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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months ago

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Chapter 1: The Proposal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader / Billy Butcher x f!reader

Prompt: "I find him very attractive." /"I'm standing right here"/ "I know."

Requested By: @angrydragon90

Tropes: Fake Dating, Pining.

Summary:When you first joined Butcher's team the last thing you expected was to develop a crush on him, but after two years of pining, you get a proposition from the last person you'd expect to care. This is Chapter 1 of my Promise Not To Fall In Love With Me Series!

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just in case (I don't really think it is). Some cursing, Sexual innuendo, References to sex, Over glorification of a man's shirtless body (I'm not complaining) Reader is a little anxious/anxiety/socially awkward? Drug use/Drinking (Soldier Boy), Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (He's a warning, we all know it and somehow still love him for it).

Note:This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

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A/N: This is the third fic for my prompt celebration! This one was requested the incredible @angrydragon90 💗 Had to do something with a little bit of Valentine's Day spirit, but I'm going to be honest, this one turned into something that I didn't expect... let me know what y'all think. I also was thinking about @zepskies fic As Tradition Dictates for the more *ahem* gratuitous descriptions of Butcher 😉

Butcher’s muscles rippled over his bare chest and broad shoulders with every swing of the mighty axe down to the earth. Each strike of the axe against wood sent chips of bark flickering in the air around him like sparks. Sweat rolled down his sun kissed skin curving in the dips of his muscular torso, along the tensing muscles of his back, and through the dusting of hair on his torso, before disappearing into the waistband of the dark jeans hung low on his hips.

Heat kisses your cheeks and darkens the skin the longer you watch him and you bite your lip hard to keep the appreciative sigh of the scene in front of you at bay. But it does little to stop your eyes which rove over the rugged man chopping wood.

No man his age should look that good.

Butcher props one of his feet up on the tree stump he’s been using as a table oblivious to your attention, shouldering the axe for a moment to glance at the stack of firewood he’d chopped, looking like a mighty warrior surveying his lands.

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

You clear your throat, cheeks darkening crimson, and take in a shaky breath to dissipate the daydream that usually starred in several of your fantasies. The same ones that probably came from the romantasy book that you’d brought along on this trip and were too embarrassed to read when anyone else was awake.

He raises a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, shuffling it back through his hair that turns a chestnut brown in the light of the setting sun that flickered through the thick forest surrounding the small cabin you were all staying in.

Oh to be a drop of sweat.

You think mournfully, taking a long sip of your lemonade out of a brightly colored bendy straw, the same lemonade that you’d made in hopes of enticing Butcher over for a break.

It had worked, but only for twenty seconds.

Twenty glorious seconds that you got to bask in Butcher’s presence so close that you could smell the familiar cologne and the scent of sweat clinging to his skin while he drank the lemonade and you tried not to stare at his bare chest for too long. You hoped that Butcher thought the flush on your cheeks had everything to do with the heat and nothing to do with all the things you were imagining him doing to you.

And then there had been an additional two seconds when Butcher smiled at you and said “Thanks poppet” in the swoon worthy accent of his that made your knees weak before he sauntered back over to the woodpile and you watched him go shamelessly.

Hughie says something to Butcher you can’t hear, but it makes Butcher laugh. He throws his head back with a wide grin that makes you sigh to yourself again, hands tensing where they sit poised over the tangle of wires in your lap.

You were supposed to be working on a new gadget to help grapple up buildings, one that you and Frenchie had designed together, but you were distracted by Butcher.

You were always distracted by him.

It had been three days since Butcher, Soldier Boy, Hughie, and you arrived at the cabin in the middle of nowhere after a mission went wrong. The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face.

You had a sneaking suspicion that MM and Frenchie had something to do with the miscommunication, given how eager they had been to stay behind at headquarters and do paperwork, and the secretive smiles they had shared at the briefing before your team left.

But needless to say, none of you had been eager to live through a reenactment of the eighth plague and all decided to lay low to consider your options, while hoping the locust supe didn’t decimate all of the corn in the midwest.

You shudder remembering the crawl of the scratchy legs along your skin, the flapping of millions of wings like the beat of a drum, the crunch of locusts underfoot, and the low pitched hum of the swarm that vibrated so loud it made you feel your body shaking from the inside out.

At this point I would have taken a swarm of guinea pigs.

The cabin wasn’t the worst place you’d stayed at in all the time you’d worked with Butcher. There was running water and several rooms inside including two bedrooms with lumpy pillows and mattresses with creaking springs, a living room with a sagging floral couch, and a threadbare kitchen with dusty cabinets and doors that fell off whenever someone tried to open one.

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing.

Sure the cabin had it’s quirks, but the real problem was that the four of you were trapped here in the middle of summer with a generator that only did so much for electricity, but had no air conditioning whatsoever, which meant it was cooler to sit outside on the porch than inside the sweltering cabin.

Overall, it had been three days of nothing, but listening to Soldier Boy bitch about the lack of extracurricular activities, three days of nothing but hearing the soft chuckle under Hughie’s breath when he texted Annie, and three days of nothing but you lusting after a man who was twice your age chopping wood.

Why was he chopping wood when it was so hot and none of you needed it… You had no idea, but you figured that the universe was finally throwing you a bone because you got to watch him do it.

The porch was cooler than sitting inside. There were two creaky rocking chairs that faced the overgrown “front yard” that was more of a clearing and the breeze did weave under the overhang of the roof to wick the sweat that gathered at the back of your neck, but the problem was, it was impossible for you to feel anything but warm, especially with what was unfolding in front of you.

The weather isn’t the only thing heating up.

You think to yourself watching Butcher lean down to pick up another piece of wood, admiring the way his worn dark jeans cup his muscular ass.

Fuck, I’m just as bad as Soldier Boy.

The truth was, you’d been crushing on Butcher for the better part of two years since the moment the two of you met on your first day when you’d tripped and dropped the giant pile of blueprints you were carrying to your desk and he was the only one who stopped to help you pick them up.

After Homelander had been stripped of his powers and exposed for the narcissistic psychotic freak he was, you’d started working at Supe Affairs, thinking that it was the perfect way for you to make a difference in a world reeling from the revelation. It had shaken quite a few people to know that the so-called heroes they looked up to were in fact just as crooked as a line drawn by an elephant on a tricycle.

But you liked your job… sometimes.

Sure, the pay sucked, the benefits were dismal and the hours were long, but you didn’t care about any of that. You felt like you were making a difference, using the engineering degree that your dad had insisted on for something other than trying to figure out how to build a bridge that withstood the force of a punch from someone as strong as Homelander.

And you hadn’t meant to develop a crush on William Butcher of all people, you swore that each day to yourself, but it happened without warning. He was nice to you, he always had your back on missions, and sometimes when you were working on something after hours on a mission- like the gadget in your lap- Butcher would sit with you while everyone else slept, nursing a glass of whatever it was he had, and he always made you feel like a valued member of the team.

Yes, he might be a little rough around the edges, but you liked that about him, that he didn’t pull punches, rather he told it like it was. It was refreshing in the world you lived in when everyone else was so afraid of offending someone that they just kept their mouths shut.

But the problem was that you were younger than him and a little inexperienced.

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

That might be a little harsh, he knew you existed, obviously, but rather he didn’t see you as anything more than a teammate or at least like a little sister. The nicknames that he called you were all some form of “kiddo” or “poppet.” Nothing like the things you’d read about men calling the women they loved in books or heard in movies.

The most experience you had in the realm of love and relationships was binge watching Sex and The City (you could quote it by heart), flipping through Cosmopolitan Magazine and other articles about love on the internet like they were opioids, and reading through romance novels reverently as if they held the secrets of the universe.

Not to mention the draft of the romance novel on your computer… but you’d go to the grave before anyone ever saw that, and if they did see it you’d take them with you.

Reading about relationships was easier than having one, at least that was what you told yourself to feel better. It also didn’t help that you’d seen two out of three sisters married with kids, with the third one getting married in a few weeks and you without even a shadow of a date for the wedding.

That meant you would be stuck at the awkward reject table again with your weird fourth cousin who always came on to you and tried to show you the rooster tattoo he had on his hip bone, your dad’s brother who cleaned his dentures in public after he ate and his wife who always asked you what you were “doing” with your life and curled her lip up in distaste no matter what you said, and the gaggle of their ungrateful children who were always sticky for some reason and chewed with their mouths open while spilling food all over the table like cavemen.

Sitting there with them made facing the locust supe more appealing.

But even with the pressure of trying to find someone, anyone to take, you couldn’t muster up the courage to tell Butcher how you felt about him.

Butcher glances over as if he can sense you and you immediately drop your eyes to the bundle of gears and wires in your lap pretending to fiddle with something that doesn’t need to be fixed.

Yes, because that’s the way I’m going to win him over, by making absolutely no eye contact. Perfect, masterful. What can go wrong?

What the books, magazines, tv shows, and movies didn’t prepare you for was how to find the courage to talk to someone of the opposite sex without feeling like your tongue was going to drop out of your mouth or like you were going to throw up.

You wait a few beats until you’re sure that he’s no longer looking at you before you raise your head to watch Butcher again.

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm.

“What?” You ask him.

He exhales a long and obnoxious cloud of foul smelling smoke from the joint he has in his hand. “I think you’re a hypocrite.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re out here eye-fucking that asshole and you yell at me for staring at you.” He chuckles with a wide smirk as he takes another hit from the blunt.

How can he smoke that? It’s like 100 degrees out here!

“I am not!” You reply as loudly as you dare, glancing over to Butcher to make sure that he didn’t hear Ben’s comment, anxiety prickling along the back of your neck, but he’s still talking to Hughie about something. “And you don’t just stare at me! You come up behind me like some gremlin out of hell, with your big hands and-”

“We both know how much you like the attention doll.”

“I do not!” Your cheeks flare bright red.

The only downside to working on Butcher’s team was sitting directly next to you. When you found out that you’d be working with Soldier Boy, one of your dad’s favorite heroes, you were excited to meet him, and then you had and he turned into another giant disappointment. He was loud, brash, short-tempered, rude, and was always either ogling you, coming on to you, smoking something, or drinking.

You supposed it could be worse. You didn’t hate him, and you got along with him, but he was always around. The plus side was that Ben was the one of the only people you didn’t have a hard time talking to.

Yes, he was attractive, but his particular lifestyle didn’t appeal to you and for that reason whatever nerves you had about talking to attractive men of the opposite sex evaporated when it came to Ben.

It was unfortunate that such a skill was wasted on him of all people.

“I just-” You hesitate, eyes dropping back down to the grappling device in your lap, not sure why you’re about to admit this to Soldier Boy when you haven’t been able to admit it to anyone else.

Probably because I’m sick of singing the line from Frozen “conceal don’t feel” over and over in my head.

“I find him extremely attractive.” You mumble on a shaky breath.

“I’m sitting right here.” The frown in Ben’s voice is prominent, but it only makes you roll your eyes at him.

“I know.” Your eyebrows furrow together. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why are you looking at him when you could have my full attention.” He leans forward, dark hair falling forward into his eyes, mouth pulling up in a confident smirk. "I mean there's nothing else to fucking do, might as well do me."

Your cheeks flush with his words, but you tilt your head to the side to study him, eyes slipping over his rugged features. Tracing over the neatly trimmed beard on his cheeks, the brilliant green eyes that seemed to glow, the way his muscular body filled out his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the soft dusting of freckles that contrasted the hardness of the man he was flecked over his skin, and his full lips that are curved up in a sinful smirk that would make even the strongest woman crumble.

But not you. Ben was… Ben. He was brash, obnoxious, handsy, impatient, and disrespectful.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Sure you didn’t work with him often, but you believed you had a pretty good grasp on the kind of person he was. You did, right?

“You’re not my type Benny.” Your eyes flick back to the project in your lap, moving your fingers deftly through the wires of the internal mechanism.

Ben recoils at the use of his nickname, but he recovers with a low chuckle. “Don’t call me that and I’m everybody's type.”

“Not mine. I don’t like supes.”

You weren’t sure if that was 100% true. You liked Kimiko. What you meant to say was that you didn’t like supes like him. Supes that used his powers without care for the consequences, Supes like Homelander who didn’t give a shit who got hurt as long as the job was done.

And you weren’t a supe, which meant that if you were with a supe there was always the possibility of you dying during sex or dying before you had sex in the first place. Your job also presented the possibility of you dying before you’d had sex, but you weren’t going to let that hold you back.

“But Butcher has-” Ben begins to say.

“Temporary powers. Not all the time.” You correct, unable to stop your eyes from drifting back over to where Butcher has begun to start swinging the axe again. “And look at him. Fuck, he’s over there like Paul Bunyan, rugged, chopping wood-” You sigh continuing to watch the man who probably has no idea you exist.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I could do that.”

You don’t pay Ben any attention, because Butcher is bending over again and you bite the inside of your cheek hard.

Ben sits there for another few beats watching you watch Butcher. The wind chimes that hang above your heads jingle merrily as the breeze picks up once more bringing the smell of the wild flowers and wet earth from the forest surrounding the cabin.

“You know I could help you.” Ben says slowly.

Your eyes flick back to Ben from Butcher in confusion. “Help me?”

What is he talking about? Does he think he can figure out how to fix the grapple gun? The other day he couldn’t figure out how to open the automatic trunk of a car and he just ripped the trunk door right off.

“Get him.” Ben nods his head in Butcher’s direction, but you’re still confused.

“How?”

And why? Why does Soldier Boy want to help me of all people?

“Well, I could help you make him jealous.” Ben leans towards you, his eyes sweeping once over you as he does, lingering too long on your chest and the edge of the jean shorts you were wearing.

“And how would you do that?”

“Well for starters you could come sit on my lap baby, see how you like it.” Ben winks. “Take me for a little ride.”

“Pass.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh I see you want to have a more advanced lesson.” He smiles, scooting his chair towards yours, a dull scrape of wood on wood, so now his knee is touching yours. “He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

“No thanks.” You interrupt, face flushing when you imagine what he was about to say.

Ben stiffens in surprise. “What?”

“I’m good.” You shrug. “I’m gonna get him the old fashioned way.”

The same old fashioned way that I’ve been using for the past two years and had absolutely no results.

“And what way is that? Pining after him and hoping that one day he’ll finally notice you?” Ben scoffs. “I can see how well that’s working for you doll-face. How long have you been working with him?”

“Two years-”

“Fuck, two years?” Ben sputters. “You should just tell him that you want him to fuck you.”

“That won’t work.”

Ben’s face scrunches in confusion, the joint clasped in between his thumb and forefinger forgotten. “Why the hell not?”

“Because-” You glance down at your hands, thumb running along the jagged edge of the grappling hook slightly embarrassed. The last thing you wanted to tell Soldier Boy was that you were a virgin. The guy would mock you endlessly. “Because I’m younger than him and he’s-”

He’s experienced.

“So? You think that he hasn’t thought about fucking you?” Ben takes a long sip from the whiskey sitting beside his chair. “He’d be lucky to have a little piece like you.”

You blink in surprise. It was the closest to a compliment that Ben had ever given you. He did tend to compliment your figure whenever you were around, but you usually ignored that because he did that to everyone.

Truthfully, the thought of dating Ben didn’t appeal to you at all, but the thought of using him to make Butcher jealous was not a terrible one. And at this point, you didn’t have anything to lose.

Well… except THAT, but you wanted it to be special, at least that’s what you’d always told yourself.

You sigh, a little frustrated, watching Butcher out of the corner of your eye swing the axe in a glorious arch to the earth. You weren’t sure how to get Butcher’s attention. You’d tried the usual things…

Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation.

Gone completely mute when he asked you a question.

Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room.

Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

Basically the social anxiety was working wonders on the office romance you wanted so badly.

“Ben?” You say tentatively, hands tightening on the contraption in your lap. At this rate you were never going to fix it and Butcher was going to have to figure out how to fly.

“Yes, gorgeous?” Ben raises an eyebrow. The blunt is between his lips now and he’s looking at you curiously.

“If we did pretend to be…” You swallow nervously.

“Fucking?” He leans forward eagerly, eyes twinkling with interest.

Well… I’ve never understood what it meant when someone wrote “his eyes darkened” until this very moment.

“Dating” You correct holding up a finger.

Does his mind always go to the gutter?

You remember everything you think you know about Ben.

Yes. Yes it does.

Ben leans back with a frown. “I don’t date.”

“Well it wouldn’t be real! You’d just be helping me make him jealous and it would be nice to have a little practice maybe…”

“Practice?” He looks confused. It wasn’t the first time he had in this conversation or within the last five minutes, but like hell you were about to admit without at least one drink to Soldier Boy the extent of your dating life.

“Yeah. I’m not the best at talking to people or-”

“You’re talking just fine right now.”

“You’re different.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you annoy me and I don’t know you’re easier to talk to for some reason!”

“Thanks.” Ben says dryly.

By now all the anxious energy has begun to pop and crackle against your skin at the thought of what the two of you could be doing and at the thought of you two actually pulling this off and you having a shot with Butcher. Not just a shot in hell, a real shot.

“But if you’re serious about helping me get him-“ You continue.

“I was.”

It was odd that he was the one who had suggested this in the first place, and even weirder that he didn’t seem hesitant at all to be doing this.

Maybe he thinks that we’re going to have sex. Your throat tightened at the thought, eyes widening, your nerve endings electrifying with anxiety. Oh holy fuck what if he thinks that if we do this he’ll get to do whatever he wants to me?

You clear your throat, heart beating just a little bit harder in your chest. The entire situation was making you regret the extra cup of coffee you had this morning. “What exactly would I have to do?” You don’t recognize your voice. It comes out a little more wobbly and just a little more tentative than it was.

You didn’t know what Ben was expecting you to do and you didn’t want to say yes, only for him to force you into sleeping with him like he’d suggested earlier, the most you'd thought the two of you would do is just make out a little-

Oh holy fuck then we’d have to kiss and I don’t know if I’m a good kisser and he’s definitely kissed more than one person not to mention he’s-

The thought made you flush to the roots of your hair.

Ben hesitates, eyeing you and you wonder if he can hear the deranged monologue inside your head or if he can hear just how hard your heart was beating. You hoped not.

“You wouldn’t have to do anything, doll. I’m not going to force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” There’s something genuine in his eyes when he answers your question, something that you’d never noticed before.

Your mouth drops open in surprise.

It wasn’t that you believed that Ben was that kind of man, but rather that what he just said to you might have been the most caring thing that he’d ever uttered in front of you. He was the last person that you’d expect to care about someone being uncomfortable or care if someone else was okay with everything that was happening in the bedroom.

Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

In all honesty you only knew the way Ben acted, you didn’t know anything about his life. The man kept his cards closer to his chest than a well-seasoned card player and his poker face, forget it. You couldn’t crack that combination even if you wanted to.

Everything else you'd heard about him was through the grapevine of gossip at work. None of it was first hand.

Ben sighs and shakes his head at you as if he’s a little annoyed with himself for saying that out loud. “But I still think it would be easier if you just told him that you wanted him to fuck you. Would’ve worked on me.”

“I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

And it was true. You could take down a target, diffuse a bomb in less than ten seconds with a thin mint and a bobby pin, but saying something out loud like that to something else made you feel nauseous.

Ben hesitates again and in his hesitation the anxiety and embarrassment starts to come soaring back into your chest.

You were asking Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy, to pretend to date you so Billy Butcher would fall in love with you.

Well kids, this must be what rock bottom feels like. I might as well just pray that the locusts come back to take me away.

“Fine.” Ben states.

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer.

“We’d have to have rules.” You blurt, and Ben makes a face.

“Rules? Never been too good with those, Sweetheart.”

“And I’d need you to promise that you wouldn’t-”

You lose your train of thought in the wind chimes that rattle over your head and the sound of Butcher’s laugh.

“Wouldn’t?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Lose control.”

Honestly, sometimes you were a little afraid of Ben. You’d never say that out loud or admit it, but he was stronger than Homelander.

You knew Ben's reputation around the office- heard the hushed whispers of the women in the break room who said he was the best fuck of their lives, heard the horror stories of what he did to his old team, and had seen first hand what his temper was like. You also knew about his powers and worried that Ben might have a little bit of a control problem or at the very least anger management issues.

“I’m not going to fucking hurt you if that’s what you think.” Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at your insinuation. “I’m not some fucking monster, doll.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-”

Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this.

Keep it together…

“I wouldn’t hurt you by accident either.” Ben’s green eyes are focused on yours, and you can see just a sliver of emotion behind them that you can’t identify. “But if we’re going to do this you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What?” Your voice comes out like a squeak.

“You’ve got to promise not to fall in love with me.” He sends you a saucy wink that makes you want to punch the strongest man on earth, instead you settle for pushing him back from you.

But you’re not prepared for the wave of disappointment you feel when he lets go of your chin.

“I’m not in any danger of that Benny. You’re not half as smooth as you think you are.” You start to lean back in your chair, but Ben reaches out to grab your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle, the contact burning through your body, as he pulls you forward, so close you can smell his cologne. Somehow it's something that smells classic and modern at the same time, a hint of spice that tickles your nose and makes your throat tight.

His voice lowers into a purr that vibrates through his chest, his next words expelled on a warm breath that weaves through the air between the two of you.

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.”

What have I gotten myself into?

A/N: Again, not what I was expecting, but I really love this one y'all and I probably laughed way too hard at bits when I was writing it.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist for this series please let me know!

Taglist

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @waynes-multiverse

@jollyhunter

#jensen ackles #jackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #jensen ackles soldier boy #the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #Billy Butcher x reader #Billy Butcher x you #karl urban #billy butcher #prompt celebration

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seonghwaddict · 11 months ago

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flattery — choi san

in which your boyfriend just looked so good in his group’s music video that you can’t help but be all over him.

idol!choi san x fem!reader. genre. smut, fluff, established relationship. warnings. barely any plot, swearing, explicit sexual content mdni, ab riding, brief unprotected sex, filming, brief cowgirl, dirty talk, praise, nickname (baby, pretty, sweetheart, my girl). wc. 1.3k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. did i make a post abt wanting to ride san’s abs a while ago? yes, i did. it’s not my fault that the music video curled those thoughts even more 🤷‍♀️ something was def purring… guys i’ve been so obsessed with blind and shaboom it’s actually not even funny anymore. what’s y’all’s fav?

listening to. nasty, ariana grande.

masterlist.

you really love your boyfriend’s abs.

like really love them.

it started off as a harmless little date, if you can call lounging together in his empty dorm that. as you had promised, you didn’t watch the new music video until you were with him, seonghwa and mingi out somewhere. despite there being no one home, you and san confined yourselves to his bedroom, basking in his smell as you cuddled up to him in bed while he pulled up the video on his phone.

you watched with rapt interest, giggling at the absurdity of the scenes, commenting on some details every now and then. he watched you instead, grinning from ear to ear and revelling in all your praises, occasionally leaning down to sneak a kiss on your head.

“you’ve outdone yourselves, really,” you turned your head to look at him from his chest as the music video ended and he set the phone on his bedside table, “and you looked good doing it!”

he snorted as you wiggled your eyebrows, shifting you to lay on top of him, “yeah? you think so?”

“mhm,” you hummed and nodded, leaning down to peck his lips teasingly, “very handsome.”

“flattery’s not gonna get you anywhere, baby,” he rolled his eyes playfully despite the tender caresses of his fingers on your hips, brushing under the hem of the shirt you stole from his closet a while ago. one of his hands left your hip to tangle into your hair, pulling your face closer to his as he muttered, “come here.”

you complied, leaning down the rest of the way to press your lips against his softly, smiling into the kiss as your eyes fluttered shut. teasingly, you pulled away a few times, grinning as you pecked his li s repeatedly until he had had enough and held you in place by the back of your neck.

he sighed quietly and you felt all his muscles relax under your touch. his tongue ran along your bottom lip before dipping in, making you gasp softly as the kiss turned heated.

one kiss led to more, usually, because in a matter of moments his shirt had been discarded along with his sweatpants and your panties as he guided you over his length with his hands on your hips. your whimpers and his groans melded together as they echoed of his bedroom walls and you were silently grateful his roommates weren’t home.

san’s head tipped back against his pillows as you leaned down to kiss his neck sweetly, whining against his skin as his pounded up into you to meet the rolls of your hips. he groaned as you clenched around him, the feeling of his thick cock inside you and his pelvis hitting your clit with each thrust quickly making a knot form deep in your abdomen.

you mewled softly, stuttering out a quiet “‘m c-close” between your moans and whimpers. your abdomen clenched, heat spreading throughout your body as you prepared yourself to be hit with an orgasm.

only for him to lift you off his dick right at the last second, making you lift your head to look at him with a frown as your thighs twitched and your chest heaved, catching your breath. he grinned in return, holding your hips firmly so you had no way to move for a few moments. your core pulsed and clenched around nothing, the wetness of it making a faint squelching sound that had him raising a teasing eyebrow at you.

“you’re mean.” you pouted once you finally caught your breath, wiggling your hips in attempt to sink back down on him.

“hush, i just wanna try something,” he rolled his eyes and pulled your hips forward before setting you down on his stomach; his abs. he caught the way your eyes fluttered as your clit pressed against his skin, or at least he assumed so—the shirt you had on obscured your heat from his view as you pressed yourself down on him. his voice came out mildly cocky, “ride.”

“w-what?” your eyes snapped open, blinking almost comically.

“ride my abs,” he repeated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “and when you finish i’ll let you cum on my cock.”

you didn’t have to be told twice, letting him slide you against him slowly at first, dragging your pussy along him and making your your clit catch on every ridge of his abs.

“that’s it, baby, you look so pretty like this,” he practically purred as he felt you move on your own, pressing against him desperately as little sounds tumbled from your lips. he moved his hands to knead your thighs before lifting one, grabbing a fistful of the hem of your shirt and lifting it to your waist, groaning as he noticed the sticky threads connecting your pissy to his abs whenever you lifted off him, “fuck… can i film this? please, babe?”

unable to form any coherent sentences, you merely nodded, slowing your movements as his hands leaves your thigh to grab his phone off the bedside table, the hem of your shirt still balled up behind your back as he tugged lightly. his hand shook a little as he opened his camera app, holding it close to his face as he recorded the way your hips stuttered as he tensed his muscles, making you let out a breathy whine.

“look at you,” he cooed softly, almost a teasing lilt his voice, “you sound so pretty for me, don’t you? that’s right, baby, keep going just like that… does it feel good? hm, sweetheart?”

his tone made your cheeks flush, giving him a shy nod as you subconsciously pick up your pace, your moans growing louder as your puffy clit glides along his torso greedily. “y-yes, sannie, ‘s so good.”

“that’s my girl,” he smirked as he felt your legs press against his sides a little harder at his praises, practically feeling your cunt pulse against him. he tugged at the hem of your shirt, prompting you to pull it off clumsily, your arms trembling. his hungry gaze roamed all over your naked form, angling his phone to capture your face as well as he hummed appreciatively, “as much as i love fucking you in my shirts, i think you’re much prettier like this… all bare and all mine.”

his words seemed to be your last straw as you cried out, his name slipping between your moans as your hips stuttered and slowed and your body twitched. he groaned as he watched you come apart on top of him, shutting off his phone and tossing it aside before sitting up, making you slide down to sit on his lap.

his length of his hard cock covered your pulsing heat, making you twitch from the brief overstimulation as he pressed his lips against yours, muttering between kisses, “you did so well, baby, so perfect for me.”

you laughed breathily against his lips, melting against him and winding your arms around his broad shoulders. you let him kiss you for a few moments before your hips absentmindedly rocked against him, smiling when his breathed hitched.

“still want more, pretty?” he rasped as he pulled away, kissing the corner of your lips as his hands helped moving you against him.

you hummed softly, nodding as your hand ran through his hair, twirling a short lick around your finger before slipping them back down around his shoulder.

“you’re always so needy, hm?” he chuckled lowly. a moment later you were on your back, pressed against the mattress as he hovered over you, his heavy tip sliding against your clit teasingly and making your hips buck against him, whimpering. he leaned down, biting your earlobe as he whispered, “god, you’re insatiable.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf @okdudeiime

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #atzhouse #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez san #choi san smut #san smut #san x reader #san imagines #san scenarios #san fluff #ateez reactions

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forzalando · 10 months ago

Text

take my hand

another 3k celebration blurb! this time, best friends to lovers with lando for my dear friend lee @scuderiahoney 💛 i hope you all love this one, it's an apology for unrequited love!lando lol no heartbreak this time, folks!!! i'm being nice!!!! set at the 2024 spanish gp but definitely some inaccuracies with the post race timeline and also please pretend max fewtrell was there pairing: lando norris x fem best friend!reader word count: 3.2k (this was supposed to be a blurb wtf is wrong with me) summary: it can be so easy to fall in love with your best friend, and it can also be incredibly hard to imagine a world where they love you back. in this world, you're one of the lucky ones. tw: short but steamy makeout scene, mild cursing

Loving Lando Norris was so astonishingly easy. It came as naturally as breathing for you and has for over half of your life.

You met so many years ago but it still feels like yesterday that he reached out to you and said, “take my hand”, pulling you gently off the ground while the other children laughed at your clumsiness. He told you that they laughed at him too – he was short, shorter than you even at that age, and he struggled to read and write. You vowed that day to always pick each other up when you fell or faltered, always stand by each other’s side even when everyone else was laughing, and although it was a promise made between two children, neither of you had ever broken it.

Smiling at the memory, you were off in your own little world – thinking about the days when he would pick you “flowers” at recess (you didn’t have the heart to tell him they were weeds) and you would always share half of your cookie at lunch.

A voice pulled you from your trance, making you jump slightly at the sudden interruption.

“What are you thinking about? Or should I say who are you thinking about with that dopey smile on your face?”

You turned to face Max Fewtrell, a staple in both yours and Lando’s lives for just as long as you’d known each other.

“I was just thinking about where we’ll go for a celebratory dinner after the race. I’ve been craving gourmet pasta and a fruity cocktail.”

“Right, and my name is Willy Wonka. You don’t have to tell me the truth, it’s fine! Just thought I’d let you know he’s looking for you, he wants you in the garage for the race.”

Your heart swelled – even though Lando asked you to be there for every race you could attend, it never failed to make you giddy. You nodded your head at Max, he smirked back at you, and you walked as quickly as possible to the McLaren garage without calling attention to yourself.

As soon as you stepped into the garage, you ran straight into Oscar and the force almost knocked you to the floor.

“Oh thank god you’re here,” he groaned. “Lando’s insufferable, asking where you are every five minutes.”

“Where is he? In his driver’s room?”

“Yeah, that’s where I last saw him headed,” Oscar yelled over his shoulder, walking towards his car. “Go work your magic on him!”

You rolled your eyes as you walked the familiar route to Lando’s driver’s room, your heart rate picking up a bit the closer you got to it. As soon as you were in front of the door, you knocked once and paused, then twice in quick succession, and once more after another brief pause – the secret knock you’d been using for years to let each other know you were there.

The door swung open almost immediately after your last knock and a frantic Lando yanked you inside. He flopped down on the couch behind him and covered his face with his hands – even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he had a frown and furrowed brow.

“Thank god you’re here now, I’ve been going insane. I need you to tell me that I’m going to win this race – now that I’ve won once, it’s fucking brutal being so close yet so far. Canada was a nightmare and today I’m starting on pole. They’ll eat me alive if I don’t convert it into a win and I don’t know if I can handle that.”

You sat next to him and gently peeled his hands from his face, glassy green eyes, flushed cheeks, and, just as you predicted, a frown and furrowed brow.

“I can’t tell you that you’re going to win, Lando,” you started to say until he interrupted you with a groan, pushing your hands away.

“Hey,” you whispered. “I can’t tell you that you’re going to win, but what I can tell you is that no matter what, I’m proud of you. Max is proud of you. Your family is proud of you. Your fans are proud of you. So many people love you and see what you’re capable of – winning a race, not winning a race, it doesn’t define you. You’re the hardest worker I know, you’re kind, you are the most wonderful friend. I’ll celebrate you even if you come plum last pushing a burning, front wing-less car across the line and so will everyone else who knows and loves you.”

By the time you’d finished rambling, Lando’s shoulders had visibly relaxed and he was smiling. Not the goofy smile with his teeth on full display but a smile was a smile, you would take what you could get.

“Thank you for always being there for me. I can’t promise I won’t be pissed if I lose today but at least I feel better now, thanks to you.”

You punched his arm lightly, jokingly, and rolled your eyes. “We made a promise, didn’t we? I’ll always be there for you, always there to pick you up, even if your inability to see how wonderful you are makes me want to scream.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m perfect, you love me, I’m the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you, your days are miserable without me, tell me something I don’t know,” he jested, nudging your shoulder before standing and holding out his hand to help you up.

“In your dreams, Norris,” you scoffed. “Make sure that big head of yours still fits in your helmet before you get in the car.”

He laughed loudly as he led you out of his driver’s room, finally smiling the goofy smile you loved so dearly. The moment was short-lived – someone from his team called his name and he hugged you briefly before jogging towards them, yelling over his shoulder that he wanted you waiting for him in Parc Ferme after the race.

You shouted your agreement, hoping and praying he hadn’t noticed the rapid beating of your heart or how warm your cheeks were when he pulled you into that brief embrace. Although he had said it all to rile you up, you truly did think the world of him. He was the greatest thing that had ever happened to you. In your eyes, he was as perfect as a person could be, and oh, did you love him. You loved him far more than a friend should and it was getting increasingly more difficult to keep that to yourself.

As Lando pulled his car in front of the P2 sign, you felt the familiar burning of guilt running through your veins.

Maybe you should have told him he would win. Insisted on it, actually. You should have been adamant that he would rise to the occasion and to the top step of the podium once again.

He wouldn’t want to see you, you were quite sure of that, and despite your promise to be waiting for him with his team, you tried to sneak away unnoticed. You’d slowly made it far back enough to be swallowed by the sea of people until an arm blocked you from getting any further.

You looked up to see Lando’s race engineer with a disapproving look on his face and instantly felt like your father had just caught you trying to sneak out after curfew.

“He wants you here and he’s going to need you here,” Will shouted over the noise of the crowd.

“I think I’m the last person he wants to see right now, I wouldn’t promise him that he would win. I basically jinxed his whole race trying to keep him from being so hard on himself. What if he thinks I don’t believe in him?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” Will snorted. “Now please get back up there quickly so you’re the first person he sees when he gets out of that car.”

With the help of Will, you were pushed gently back to the front just in time to see Lando haul himself out of his McLaren. His body language was obvious – disappointment, sorrow, embarrassment, and your heart ached as you listened to the roaring cheers from the Red Bull team as Max launched himself into their arms.

You knew Lando would be running every possible scenario through his mind – what if he had gotten a better start, what if he’d managed tires just a bit better, what if George hadn’t been able to sail through at the start and he hadn’t had to back off of fighting Max. All of those thoughts a natural, valid response, but if he voiced any of them out loud he’d get torn to pieces by both journalists and fans of other drivers.

When he peeled his balaclava from his face your stomach twisted and you silently begged him to look your way – for him to find a face in the crowd that was so unwaveringly proud of him through everything, but he kept his eyes trained anywhere but you or his team.

Finally, you saw his eyes flicker to you, and he walked briskly toward where you and the few members of his team were waiting. Wordlessly, he pulled you into his arms and exhaled so deeply it felt as if he’d been holding his breath since the end of the race.

“You drove beautifully,” you whispered, combing your fingers through the sweat-dampened curls on his head. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Lando’s arms immediately loosened around you and his head was turned away from you, he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, look you in the eye.

“We’ll talk later, I have to go do my interview,” he mumbled. “Wait for me in my driver’s room, okay?”

You nodded your head even though he was already walking away from you, shoulders slumped and jaw clenched. Honestly, you weren’t sure what hurt worse – the fact that you could physically see his disappointment or that he didn’t say he loved you back.

It felt like hours before you heard an all too familiar knock on the door to Lando’s room – the door gently swinging open to reveal the tired face and frame of your best friend. He must have showered in Oscar’s room before coming to find you – the smell of champagne nowhere to be found yet his curls stuck slightly to his forehead. The sight was endearing, and it took everything in you to not pull him into you and bury yourself against his chest.

“You didn’t have to knock, it’s your room,” you spoke softly, adjusting your position on the couch.

“Force of habit, I guess.” The corner of his lip turned up when he answered you – a good sign, a sign that maybe he wasn’t angry with you at all about your earlier conversation.

Although it was Lando who asked to talk, you couldn’t help yourself from blurting out an apology as soon as he took a seat next to you.

“I’m so sorry about earlier,” you pleaded. “I should’ve said something different, I should’ve just said what you wanted me to say. I meant all of it, every word, but you asked me to reassure you in a specific way and I didn’t.”

Lando blinked a few times as he stared at you, his mouth falling open in shock? Amusement? You couldn’t tell, but at least he didn’t appear to be mad.

“Do you think I’m angry with you?”

“Well, yes,” you mumbled. “I probably jinxed your race.”

“Jinxed it? If anything, you’re the reason I finished second. I kept thinking about what you told me instead of focusing on how I screwed up – it kept my head in the race.”

“But, but,” you stammered, “you didn’t say you loved me back. In Parc Ferme, when you were hugging me. You always say it back, I thought you were furious with me.”

“Would I have walked over only to hug you if I was furious with you?”

You felt a little embarrassed at your panic – “I suppose not, you probably would’ve stayed as far away from me as possible.”

“Exactly, you silly muppet,” he teased, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. ��I didn’t say it back because I realized that it means something different for both of us and I, believe it or not, got scared.”

Your eyes widened and you felt like you were going to be sick. He knew. You shouldn’t have been surprised, everyone had figured it out – his pit crew, Will, Zak, Oscar, Oscar’s girlfriend the literal first time you met her, all of your friends and family, even drivers on different teams had made comments to you in passing over the years.

“Lando, I,” you tried to get ahead of it, ahead of the rejection and the awkwardness, but he cut you off with a raised hand and a pleading look.

“Please, just let me get this out or I never will,” he begged. “I think I’ve always known, or at least everyone around me has just always told me that it’s painfully obvious, but I didn’t fully realize it until earlier today. You care about me so much, more than anyone, and I’m almost positive I could be the lousiest driver, lawyer, engineer, teacher, architect, whatever, and you’d still always be proud of me. You’d be there for me regardless with a giant smile on your face, an “I love you”, and a hug that would heal any self-doubt or negative thoughts. You mean everything to me and I don’t know what I would do without you but – ”

You waited with bated breath, your leg bouncing uncontrollably and heart hammering in your chest. Waiting for the “but I don’t feel the same”, “but I see you as a friend”, for the inevitable heartbreak.

“But I can’t keep my feelings a secret anymore, even if it might ruin everything, but I have to believe it won’t because we can get through anything together. I love you, Y/N, more than anyone in this world, more than a friend, more than I ever thought it would be possible to love someone. I’m saying it back now, hoping that you feel the same because it’ll be incredibly awkward if you don’t, but that’s what I had to tell you first. I love you. I think I always have.”

It felt like the earth had stopped moving, time frozen and only you and Lando existed in this moment, only you existed in the entire universe. Your thoughts raced with what to say back – something romantic? Should you just jump into his arms and kiss him senseless like you’d dreamed about for years? Unfortunately, you landed on something far less eloquent.

“You what?” Your shout echoed in his driver’s room, if anyone was within a ten-foot radius they surely would have heard you.

“Well, I guess that’s not the worst reaction,” Lando pondered, looking away from you bashfully. “Nora Powell stomped on my foot when I told her I liked her. Do you remember that? I think it was Year 10?”

You did remember – it was quite a horrendous memory for you, actually, as that’s the year you realized you had a crush on your best friend.

“Oh, I was so jealous of her,” you blurted. “I cornered her at lunch the next day and told her she was the luckiest girl in the world and a certified idiot for turning you down.”

His head snapped back to look at you, a hopeful glint in his eye.

You smiled at Lando, tentatively cupping his cheek. “I suppose I’m the luckiest girl in the world now, to love and be loved by the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

“Oh no,” he insisted, “I promise you, I’m the lucky one.”

He kissed you once gently, tentatively, his lips barely brushing yours before he pulled you into his lap and slid his hands to rest on your neck, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. In an instant, he was kissing you breathless, licking into your mouth as you whined and pressed yourself against him.

One roll of your hips had him panting, a hand leaving your face to slide under your shirt, leaving a trail of fire until he stopped and squeezed just under your breast. You were dizzy with desire and full of so much love for the man underneath you – he was intoxicating, you never wanted to stop kissing him, you never wanted to know the feeling of his hands not wandering your body.

You tugged his hair lightly, just enough to disconnect his lips from yours even though it pained you to do so.

“I love you so much,” you muttered, a tear escaping from your eye. “I never thought – ”, you couldn’t even get the words out, choosing to bury your head into Lando’s neck as he gently rubbed your back.

“I know,” he whispered, lifting your head to kiss you senseless once again.

The two of you were so wrapped up in one another that neither of you heard a knock at the door or the turning of the knob. You did, however, hear the blood-curdling scream.

“Oh my god, my eyes,” Max groaned, slapping a hand over his face while he dramatically dry-heaved. “Get a room, you deviants!”

“Mate, we are literally in a room!” Lando shouted back, lifting you gently off his lap before he leapt to his feet and pushed Max backward. “We will see you back at the hotel.”

“Great, I’ll be bleaching my eyes out when you get there. For the record, I’ve always wanted this to happen, but I never wanted to see it.”

“Well, that’s your own fault,” you scolded. “Next time wait for a response before barging in somewhere.”

“Oh, believe me,” he stressed, “I’ll never be walking into any room you two are in ever again. Not even if there’s another fire and I’m the only one who can warn you to get out.”

“The dramatics are unnecessary but you do need to leave,” Lando insisted, pointing out the door.

“Yes, absolutely, but before I go, who confessed first?”

“Lando did,” you said proudly. “I’m just irresistible, I guess.” Lando winked back at you, which you took to be an agreement.

“Damn it, I owe Piastri, Sainz, and Verstappen $100 each,” Max groaned. “Like they need my money. See you two lovebirds later!”

He shut the door so quickly that neither you nor Lando had time to react to the fact that your friends had been betting on you. It took a few rounds of looking back and forth at each other and then the closed door before you burst into giggles and fell back into the couch, clinging onto each other. You laughed a bit too hard, your hands leaving Lando to clutch at your ribs. Almost instantly, you felt yourself sliding off your seat, your bum hitting the floor with a thud.

You looked up to see Lando with his arm outstretched, a cheesy smile on his face as he repeated the same words he said to you so many years ago.

“Take my hand.”

And just like you did that fateful day, you grabbed on, let him pull you up, and fell in love all over again.

----------------------

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#lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #ln4 fluff #ln4 x reader #ln4 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff #formula one #f1 fic #forzalando 3k

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luvyeni · 9 months ago

Text

SAY CHEESE ,, 나재민

pairings ‎⸝⸝⸝ model!jaemin x fem!reader wc. 2.5k+

genre. smut

𓄷 includes ... fingering, unprotected sex, corruption kink, praise kink

「 authors note 𖹭 」 i needed a soft one , been doing cheating and yandere fics all week.

❪ masterlist! ❫

“i don't know chaewon,” you hear your roommate's footsteps padding behind you as you make your way into your bedroom— she was right on your hip as tried to close the door, pushing it open as you sat on your bed. “this is your assignment, and i don't feel comfortable doing it for you.”

your roommate whines sitting down on your bed as well. “please yn, i can't miss this internship it will be career changing, and you're the only person i know who can take photos as well as i do, maybe even better , and i know you wont try and fuck him cause you havent fucked anyone in your life.” she said, you scoffed. “why can't you text the guy and tell him you have another shoot?” you asked. “because this model is already hard to get and if i don't get this shoot im gonna fail my class.” she explained. “you passed this class last semester so you understand how much of a hard ass this teacher is.” she said.

“please yn,” she begged, “i will buy groceries for next month if you do this for me,” you thought about it, it was a good deal. “fine.” your friend smiled, clapping in excitement. “thank you, thank you so much.” she said hugging you. “okay, okay let me go.” you pulled away. “it's a two day shoot, he has his own hair and makeup team so all you have to do is show up and take pretty pictures of the pretty man.” she said. “who is this mysterious model who is so hard to get?”

“na jaemin.” she said, you knew the name; he was new to the modeling scene, but he was quickly growing, establishing himself in the cut throat industry. “how’d you manage to get him, i thought he was like london for a fashion show?” you asked. “what business does he have with a mediocre college student photoshoot?” your best friend scoffed. “ignoring the mediocre part, you know donghyuck?” you nodded, he had a crush on your roommate and was very open about it. “well he apparently knows jaemin, and he set this up for me , in exchange for a date.” you nodded. “using your assets, good for you.”

“yeah, and i didn't know this would be the only days he'd be free, and i didn't catch it until i checked my schedule.” she said standing up. “i'll text him and let him know, thank you so much.” you nodded. “Whatever, don't complain next month when it's time to shop for food.” she smiled sheepishly. “i won't promise.” she said. “now get out, i have to work on this essay that's due in like 4 hours.”

the next day was the day of the shoot, luckily you didn't have class so it wasn't a big inconvenience— the night before you made sure all your cameras were charged and working properly, thankfully they were and you were ready to go. “here's the address, you might want to get there earlier than he does so you can be ready , he's pretty busy and we don't know how long he has on his schedule.” your friend came back into your room , to which you agreed.

you got to the destination of the shoot a few hours before the shoot, cleaning up the place a bit; setting up the background and decorations. you brought a few snacks and drinks for him and his staff, also setting those out for the taking. you sent your roommate a quick message wishing her good luck with her internship, the door to the place opening. “hello?”

you looked up from your phone; he came in smiling, his team following behind him , he had this aura to him, he definitely was a model, he was attractive— very attractive, it made you kind of speechless. “h-hi.” you said, letting them come in. “you guys can set up over there.”

you finished up your texting, deciding to make yourself known for real. “hi im yn.” you watched him lift his eyebrow in confusion. “yn?” he asked. “what happened to chaewon? hyuck told me this was for her class.” chaewon didn't text him— you were gonna kill her. “it is, she had a internship today and she couldn't miss it, she also couldn't miss this shoot because then she'd fail this class and she didn't want to do that so she sent me.” jaemin watched you nervously fiddle with your finger as you explained yourself, smiling to himself. “is that okay? i can show you some of my work if it makes you comfortable.”

“no baby doll don't worry,” his words made you freeze up. “hyuck said chaewon was nice girl, so im sure she surrounds herself with other nice girls.” his eyes scanned up your body, making your cheeks heat up as he made eye contact with yours. “you seem like a nice girl.” you nodded, still flustered. “o-okay, i'm gonna go finish setting up, you guys can finish getting him ready, i brought snacks in case any of you get hungry they're over there so.” you quickly ran over to your camera. “she's cute.” his stylist said. “so adorable.” his makeup artist said, he smiled, pulling out his phone.

jaemin. your girl didn't show up, her roommate did.

hyuck. ik she text me , and told me, yn is a good girl though, she's also a photographer.

jaemin. single?

hyuck. definitely, she doesn't even come out much. why you like?

jaemin. very much.

hyuck. go for it then 😉

he watched you adjust the camera, muttering something to yourself, his stylist handed him his outfit to get changed into, he took the clothes into his hand, making his way over to you. he stood behind you, waiting for you to take notice of him. “we can get started when—” you turned around to where the boy was already standing there, extremely close, close enough where you could smell his cologne. “I have to change into my clothes.” he said. “chaewon gave me a dress code.” you nodded. “of course she did.” you looked around the studio. “there's no bathrooms in here , and i don't have the key to the one outside.”

“don't stress baby doll,” there was that nickname again, “i’ve had to change in public before, nothing knew.” he walked away leaving you confused, until you seen his arms lifting up and off his shirt went; your hands coming up to cover your eyes. “you-you're gonna get dressed here.” he laughed at you. “it's not like there's anywhere else,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “you act like you've never seen a naked man before.” you hadn't , but he didn't know that. “ju-just quickly get changed.” you fanned your heated face , he smiled.

jaemin knew you probably hadn't, he just wanted to see your reaction and he was thoroughly amused at what he was seeing. “get dressed and leave the poor girl alone.” his stylist said, slapping the back of his head. he finished changing his clothes, just as you were turning around. “great we can finally get started.”

the shoot went good, you took a bunch; a few you knew chaewon would like and a few you liked, you probably took over 100 photos of the boy; not that you were complaining, you got to stare at this gorgeous man and not look like a weirdo. “how do they look?” jaemin asked. “would you like to see?” he nodded, coming behind the camera; you showed him your laptop screen. “see?”

“you're really talented?” he watched you try and hide a smile at his praise. “you can smile baby doll, it was a compliment,” he said. “th-thank you.” you said with your head down. “which ones do you like?” he asked. “huh?” you said confused. “oh-oh well this is chaewons project so i just did what I know she likes.” he hummed, “yeah i know it's chaewons, but if it was your project, what would you choose?” you didn't realize how close he was until you could feel his breathing on your neck.

“um.” you clicked through the photos. “th-these three.” you pointed out. “oh someone likes my upper body i see?” he laughed as you turned around wide eyed, stuttering out an explanation. “don't worry i don't mind it all, i got into this business to be stared at and admired by pretty and sweet girls like you.” he said. “tell chaewon she should use these, her roommate has good taste.”

the rest of the shoot went by in a blur, soon you were cleaning up and jaemin was changing back into his comfortable clothes. “we'll go get the car ready.” he nodded, his small staff leaving the studio, leaving you and him alone; just what he wanted, he watched you talk on the phone. “i should be home soon, don't worry, yeah , no i'm not saying it, fine i love you too, bye.” you hung up. “boyfriend?” he asked, knowing the answer already. “oh no, that was chaewon.” you chuckled.

“so a pretty little thing like you don't have a boyfriend?” you shyly nodded, “like ever?” you were embarrassed. “no it's okay baby doll i'm just a bit shocked.” he said. “it's you're so pretty, I never would have imagined you were single.” he said , coming closer making you nervously turn around , but you could still get hear him getting closer until he was caging you against the table. “ja-jaemin.”

“come on pretty, let me make you feel good.” he pressed up against you. “turn around for me.” he whispered in your ear, smiling when obediently did. “good girl, you listen well.” you eyes were wide. “your staff.” he smirked. “trust, they know, don't worry about that.” his hand came up to your thigh, making its way up your skirt. “i-i’ve never done this before.” you felt his hand close to your clothed cunt. “i know pretty just relax.” you felt his hand on your mound, making you close your legs around his arms. “no.” he smiled. “you gotta keep them open if you want me to make you feel good.”

you slowly opened your legs allowing him to move again. “good girl.” he thumbed on your clit, you let out a whimper, biting your lip to cover it up. “let me hear all those pretty noises.” he pulled your panties to the side. “i'm gonna put a finger inside you, okay?” you nodded, his slowly ran his finger up your slit, before pushing his finger in. “ja-jaemin.” you moaned. “feel good?” he moved his finger in and out. “you're so wet, this pretty pussy never been played with, you're dripping all over my hand.”

you were a mess, your face was so fucked out from one finger it made him hard as a rock. “m’gonna add another one okay?” you nodded, he lifted your leg higher holding it as he added another finger. “good girl , taking two of my fingers.” he praised, you really like that, your cunt tightening around his digits. “you liked that? me praising you?” you nodded. “answer me baby doll , you like when i praise you?”

“y-yes i do.” you felt a sensation bubbling in your stomach. “ja-jaemin i feel.” you couldn't stop it from coming, your legs closing around his hand once again, as your orgasm washed over you.

jaemins eyes lit up light a child's on christmas morning as he watched you orgasm, your juices covering his finger. “there you go, cumming all over my hand.” he cursed, feeling his cock begging to be freed from his sweats. “good girl, let it all for me, fuck im so hard right now” he groaned, pressing his lip to the side of your head. “you want me to fuck you? stretch your little pussy out?”

you moaned, nodding. “pl-please.” you weren't really waiting for “the perfect guy” but right about now, you were really worked up and the way you could feel jaemins grinding his clothed cock against you— he was the perfect guy.

he lifted you on to the counter. “sh-shit.” he pulled his pants down enough to pull his cock out, hissing, the air hitting his leaky tip. “so fucking hard for you doll, ready for me?” you bit your lip as he lined his cock up to your entrance. “fuck.” he groaned as he slowly worked himself inside you. “jaemin.” you moaned, he held your hips down. “fuck don't move baby, let me do it.” he fully seethed himself inside you. “fuck, you're so tight.”

he slowly moved; your cunt barely letting him out, he was in heaven— and so were you, hold his bicep , your head thrown back as he fucked you, you never felt this sensation before, but you loved it. “please, faster.” you moaned , he smirked, speeding up. “you want more?” he groaned, his hips now slapping against yours with much force. “fuck baby doll i'll give you more.”

you could feel the counter below you shaking as he fucked into you vigorously. “that's it, take nana fat cock inside you.” he groaned, slowly losing himself. “fuck you're little pussy is so good.” he cursed. “fuck i'm gonna cum.” he moaned. “you going cum for me?” he toyed with your clit. “be a good girl and cum for me.”

and with his words and him fucking into you deeply, kissing your cervix you soon cumming hard, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your cunt tightened around him, his cursed as he came inside you. “oh fuck yn.” he sighed, his head dropping as he came, you could feel him every inch of him twitching inside you you as he covered your inside in white. “oh fuck.”

he slowly pulled out, smirking as you whimpered. “so sensitive baby.” he said, his cum leaking from your hole. “that felt good baby.” he kissed your neck. “so good if my staff weren't waiting for me, i would stuff my cock back into your pretty pussy.” smiling as you whined. “there's always tomorrow.” he said, pulling away, finally letting you get dressed.

“will you be back tomorrow?” he asked. “yeah, chaewon has another day at her internship.” he helped you pack up all your cameras. “good.” he handed you the bag. “i’ll come without my staff,” you yelped as he pulled you close. “why?”

“because after you take all the pictures you need , i don't need any distractions when i teach you to take my cock in that pretty mouth.”

©LUVYENI

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year ago

Text

Walk The Line.

Carmen gets a little jealous. You don’t mind in the slightest.

roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. semi public antics.

word count - 2.5k

authors note - ask and you shall receive 😌. i’ll never get enough of roommate!carmy. i’ll be writing him forever. <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

He’s a little out of his depth, admittedly.

The invitation had been slid under your front door, pretty handwriting on creamy paper.

“A… party?”

“Does it say party, Carmen?”

“No, it says ‘mixer.’ What the fuck is a mixer?”

You laugh, scrubbing a mark off the final dish in the sink before placing it down in the drying rack. Carmy is sat on the counter across the kitchen, reading the invite over and over.

“Seriously, babe. The fuck does mixer mean? So it isn’t a party?”

You dry your hands and make your way over to take the paper from him, eyes scanning over it carefully.

“A mixer is like… a get to know each other thing. It’s sort of like a party, I guess, but not really. Just a casual gathering type situation.”

“Sounds fucking stupid,” he grumbles.

You smack his shoulder, rolling your eyes.

“Lighten up, asshole. It could be fun.”

“Fun? You think having a mixer with all the neighbours from our building on a Friday night is gonna be fun?”

“I think it sounds like an incredible time. My ideal evening. I can’t wait.”

You can’t even pretend not to laugh, grabbing onto his thigh to keep yourself balanced. He puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to look serious, but the grin fighting its way up his cheeks gives him away.

“You really wanna go?”

“Carm, if it’s terrible, we’ll just lie and say we’ve got plans elsewhere. We’ll run away screaming if we need to. It might be good for us though, to meet our neighbours properly. It’s good to get to know them, just in case we ever need anything.”

“What, like a cup of sugar? What is this, the thirties?”

“When you’re testing recipes and fucking them all up, you might be grateful to be able to nip next door and borrow a cup of sugar.”

“I don’t fuck recipes up.”

“No? Then why were you yelling at a lavender and oat crème brûlée last week?”

“It was mocking me,” he grumbles under his breath, hanging his head.

You can’t help but laugh, moving closer to stand between his manspread legs where he still sits on the counter. You brush a piece of hair back from his forehead, tracing your index finger in a featherlight touch down the bridge of his nose. He looks down at you, eyes glued to yours.

“I know for a fact you don’t have anything else planned on Friday,” you whisper.

He rolls his eyes but leans into your touch anyway, where you’re still tracing along the features of his face.

“You promise we can leave if it’s terrible?”

“We literally live in this building. We can just walk up the stairs and be home.”

He huffs, but relents.

“Fine. But please don’t leave me alone with all of the middle aged moms. They love me.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” you giggle, leaning in to rest your head on his chest. His arms encircle you, pulling you as close as he can.

Is this scene too intimate for roommates? Without a doubt.

Do either of you care? Not in the slightest.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

It’s not as bad as he thought it’d be.

The middle aged moms have pulled through, actually. The lobby is decorated with fairy lights, tables covered in alcohol set up against the walls. Everyone has a drink in their hand, chatting and mingling amongst themselves.

You and Carmen walk downstairs a little late. He’d finished his shift and run home to shower and make himself look semi presentable before facing the neighbours.

“We need a signal,” he says suddenly, right as you reach the staircase. “In case of emergencies.”

“Pat your head.”

“Real subtle.”

“It doesn’t need to be subtle, it needs to be noticeable for me.”

“Fine,” he mutters, bumping his shoulder into yours. “Don’t leave me alone with that Erica lady. She scares me.”

“Yes sir,” you mock salute, slipping your hand into his momentarily. “You’ll be fine, Carmen. Like I said, we’ll just leave if it’s awful.”

It’s not awful, actually. It’s quite fun.

It’s nice to get to know the people in your building, seeing as you have lived there for a couple of years now. Carmen has been there even longer.

“Excuse me, sweetheart?”

You turn around to be met with an old lady, leaning carefully on her cane.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m Dorothy. I live in 2B, and I just had to tell you that you look beautiful in your dress.”

You smile, pulling out a chair for her, which she takes gladly. You sit down next to her, spotting Carmy chatting with a couple of guys across the room.

“Thank you so much!”

You introduce yourself, telling her your name and apartment number.

“Ah yes,” she hums in recognition. “You live with your boyfriend who has all the tattoos.”

You almost choke on your drink.

“We’re just roommates,” you say eventually. “But yes, that’s him.”

“Oh, my apologies. I just assumed.”

You’re curious, suddenly. You know you shouldn’t be, but you can’t help yourself.

“Can I ask? Why you… thought we were dating?”

She chuckles knowingly before placing a hand on your knee.

“Honey, he’s got a hand on you at all times. He looks at you like you are the sun. Every time you walk past my window, you’re both laughing. Sounds like love to me.”

Her bluntness is refreshing, if not a little intimidating. No one will say it how it is more than a little old lady who can’t mind her business.

“We, uh… we’re close. He’s a good roommate. A good friend.”

She doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, chuckling as she pats your leg.

“Uh huh. That’s what I said about my husband - real good friend. We’ve been married 58 years.”

You smile, shaking your head.

“Is he here with you?”

“He’s upstairs. He can’t really leave the apartment, these days.”

“You know, if you ever need anything, me and Carmen would be happy to help.”

“No, sweetheart, I couldn’t ask you to-”

“-you’re not asking me, I’m offering. Carmen is an award winning chef at one of the best restaurants in this city. He’d be more than happy to make a meal or two when needed. And I can pick you guys up stuff from the grocery store when I go, too.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, grabbing your hand in her frail one. “You’re good kids, you two.”

You grin at her, squeezing her hand gently.

“You know where I am, if you need me.”

She nods, standing up carefully.

“I’m going to go see if that handsome Jeremy will come and fix my shower for me. He did promise.”

You laugh, watching as she makes a beeline for one of the dads stood in a huddle. You catch eyes with Carmy, who’s still chatting away with a few of the younger guys. He winks at you, all cheeky and carefree, and you can’t help but flush, heat prickling across your skin. You shake your head, smiling, winking back.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your bicep. You spin sideways, to be met with the sight of a very handsome man. Dark hair, big brown eyes, tall - he looks slightly like a movie star you can’t quite remember the name of. You crane your neck to meet his gaze, smiling softly.

He holds out his hand to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m Daniel.”

You tell him your name, trying to ignore how his hand engulfs yours.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Have you lived here long? Think I’d remember a face like yours.”

Now he shakes his head.

“A month, maybe. I live in 6C. I’ve been working a lot, so haven’t had any time for introductions.”

“Ah. What do you do?”

“I’m a model.”

Of course he is.

“What do you do?”

As you start to tell him, his eyes fix on yours, not leaving for a moment. He listens carefully, both of you blocking out the noise and focusing on each other.

Turns out, Daniel is good company. The two of you find a spot in the corner, away from the noise and the wine drunk moms. The two of you laugh, joke, and talk about Chicago as if you’re old friends. Time slips away from you easily, conversation flowing with minimal effort.

“I don’t want to leave, trust me… but I have a super early call time tomorrow. If you wanted, we could grab a drink sometime, somewhere that’s not our buildings lobby?”

You laugh, nodding.

“Yeah, I’d like that. It was nice to meet you, Daniel.”

“You too. Here,” he says, handing you a small business card with his number on, “text me.”

“I might do just that,” you tease as he walks away grinning.

You’re on your way to grab another drink when a hand slinks around your wrist.

“Hi, Carmen.”

You don’t even have to turn to know who it is, recognising the feeling of his calloused hand against your soft skin.

“Where’s your friend gone?” he all but grumbles.

“He’s gone home, got to be up early for work.”

“Haven’t we all.”

“Ooo, okay Mr Attitude. You’re not having a good night? You didn’t give me the signal.”

“Would you have noticed if I did?”

You spin around to face him properly now.

“Yes, I would have. Because we’re in a tiny fucking lobby and not a football stadium, Carmen.”

He huffs.

“Didn’t think you’d notice if the building fell down, the way you were lost in his eyes.”

“I know it’s a foreign concept to you, Carmen, but eye contact is actually a very important part of conversation. Try it some time.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, grip on your wrist tightening.

“Come on,” he mumbles. “Wanna show you something.”

He practically drags you up the stairs, and up some more, and up some more. Eventually, you reach the roof.

The sun is just setting, casting the city in a warm orange glow. Everything is so calm, so peaceful, so serene. It’s beautiful.

You’re admiring the view when suddenly your feet are no longer on the ground. Carmy has you over his shoulder, carrying you across the rooftop to the brick wall.

“The fuck are you doing?” you cry as he finally puts you down.

He smashes his lips to yours, choosing to shut you up rather than answer you. You kiss back eagerly, confused but not disappointed at the turn in events. Slipping your hands into his hair, you tug him into you, groaning as he grabs at your ass.

“Carmen,” you breathe, “why don’t we just go home?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he mumbles against your neck, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. When he bites down, you smack his shoulder.

“No marks, asshole. The fuck is up with you?”

Again, he says nothing, just slips his hand under your dress to run his fingers over your underwear. You part your legs instantly, leaning back into the wall to steady yourself.

“Carmen, someone’s gonna see if they come up here.”

“Well then you better come quickly.”

He slips your panties to the side, running his fingers through your wet heat. You keen, knees buckling already.

“Oh baby,” he chuckles. “This all for Daniel?”

It all clicks for you suddenly.

“That’s what-” you choke as he slides a finger into you. “That’s what - fuck - has you so riled up? Daniel?”

“Don’t say his name when I’m knuckle deep, baby. It’s rude.”

You attempt to scoff, but it comes out as more of a moan when he presses his thumb to your clit, circling carefully.

“Am I not giving you what you need, honey? Is that it? Greedy girl just wants more, so she looks elsewhere to get it?”

“No,” you justify quickly. “You know that’s not true.”

“If you can still form sentences, I’m clearly doing something wrong.”

He slips a second finger in, curling them exactly the way he knows you like.

“Carm.”

“He couldn’t make you feel like this, babe. You and I both know it.”

You’re nodding, fingers gripping his shirt tightly as if you’re scared he’s going to walk away. His lips press into your neck again, nipping along the expanse of skin.

“Say it.”

“Hmm?”

You’re dazed, mind hazy with Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen.

“Say. It.”

He punctuates his words by curling his fingers harshly. You’re seeing stars, legs giving out.

“He - he… fuck, Carmen, please.”

“So close, honey. Try again.”

You know he won’t relent. He never does, when he’s in a mood. You have to just give him what he wants.

“He couldn’t make me feel this good, Carm. It’s all for you, only you.”

“Good girl. Knew you could do it.”

With that, he speeds up his fingers, his other arm snaking around your back to keep you standing upright.

“Give it to me, baby. Know you want to. That’s it, atta girl.”

“Come for me, there we go. Can feel you.”

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl. So pretty like this.”

You fall over the edge, clenching like a vice around his fingers as you throw your head back. There’s a sheen of sweat coating your skin, chest heaving with every breath you take. Your vision goes white for a second, gripping onto Carmy’s biceps for dear life.

You rest your forehead against his chest, panting as you try to recover.

“Jealous Carmen is kinda mean,” you mumble into his shirt.

He laughs, wrapping his arms around you.

“You know I didn’t mean it, right? You’re free to date whoever you want. You could do a lot worse than Daniel the hot supermodel.”

You pull back, looking at him carefully.

“I know. I just… I don’t know if I’ll go. Seems a bit unfair to date him when my mind is on someone else.”

You both know exactly who you mean. You both also know that tipsy on a rooftop is not the place to have that conversation.

“Did you ever master the lavender crème brûlée?”

He chuckles, not expecting the sudden change in subject.

“Yes, I did.”

“Do we have any left?”

“We don’t. But I did make chocolate soufflé this afternoon, if that’ll satisfy your sweet tooth.”

“Fuck, yes,” you grin, leaning in to kiss him tenderly.

“I’ll make you a crème brûlée in work tomorrow. Promise.”

“Will you make two extras?”

He quirks a brow in confusion, so you continue.

“We’ve got two elderly neighbours. They’re not very mobile, so I said we’d drop stuff off every now and again.”

He smiles at you, all soft and melted.

“Of course. That heart of yours is too big for your chest, you know.”

You take hold of his hand, placing it there.

“Only sometimes.”

He kisses you again before throwing an arm over your shoulders.

“Let’s go eat chocolate soufflés and drink the rest of that wine you bought.”

“You’re a mind reader,” you laugh, making your way downstairs.

Maybe he is, you think later. You don’t mind in the slightest.

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mcrdvcks · 26 days ago

Text

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ rekindling

chapter summary: You and Logan celebrate your 5th wedding anniversary.

word count: 6.1k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: the ending of this chapter might be one of my favorite scenes

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, mention of sickness (not reader), fluff, logan is a lovesick puppy, gala mission, star wars reference

series masterlist - chapter 8 → chapter 10

Some years ago, right after the two of you got engaged, you tried making and fermenting your own beer for Logan. Turns out, beer doesn’t need to and shouldn’t ferment for more than a few months at the most.

So, you pivoted, and made homemade whiskey, which had been sitting in a secret part of your lab for the better part of 5 years.

And now, after Logan had taken you out on a date to an Italian place and a nearby observatory which he booked for the two of you, you dragged him to your lab, where you had the bottle of homemade whiskey.

You pulled out a drawer and grabbed the small, but hefty, gift bag. Its weight made your arm dip slightly as you turned to face Logan, who was leaning against the counter in your lab with a quizzical but amused expression. His hair was still slightly tousled from the wind at the observatory, his sleeves rolled up casually from dinner.

"What's this, sweetheart?" he asked, nodding toward the bag. "Another one of your science experiments?"

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your glasses as you handed him the bag. "Just open it. And no, it’s not radioactive or alive. This one’s safe, I promise."

Logan smirked as he pulled the tissue paper out, revealing a dark amber glass bottle sealed with a simple cork. His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he held it up, reading the handwritten label: “Logan’s Reserve – 5-Year Aged Whiskey.”

"Wait a second…" His eyes narrowed, a grin spreading across his face as he looked at you. "Is this what I think it is?"

You nodded, clasping your hands behind your back nervously. "Yeah. Remember when I tried making beer for you right after we got engaged? And it… well, it exploded in the basement?"

Logan chuckled, the sound warm and rich. "How could I forget? Smelled like a brewery down there for weeks."

"Exactly. So, I switched gears and decided to try something a little more… sophisticated." You gestured to the bottle. "I distilled it, let it age, and hoped for the best. Five years later, here we are."

Logan stared at the bottle for a moment, then at you. His expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something deeper. "You did this… for me?"

You shrugged, feeling the blush creep up your cheeks. "Of course. I wanted to give you something special. Something that lasts, you know? Like… us."

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the lab equipment. Logan set the bottle down carefully on the counter, then stepped toward you. His hands rested gently on your waist, pulling you closer.

"You’re somethin’ else, darlin’," he said, his voice low and full of affection. "Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me before."

You smiled up at him, your shyness melting away under his gaze. "Well, there’s a first time for everything."

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was soft but full of unspoken gratitude. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

"Let’s crack it open," he said with a grin. "I’ve waited five years for this, after all."

You laughed, grabbing two small glasses from a nearby shelf. As Logan uncorked the bottle, the rich aroma of aged whiskey filled the room. He poured a small amount into each glass, the amber liquid catching the light.

"To us," you said, raising your glass.

Logan clinked his glass against yours. "To five years… and many more."

You both took a sip, and Logan’s eyes widened slightly as he savored the taste. "Damn, sweetheart. You’ve outdone yourself. This is better than anything I’ve had in a bar."

You beamed. "Really?"

"Really." He leaned in and kissed you again, the whiskey still warm on his lips. "Best anniversary gift ever."

As you stood there, sharing the moment and the whiskey you’d poured your heart into, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Life hadn’t been easy—especially the past few years—but moments like this made it all worth it.

---

You were making chicken noodle soup for Rogue, Kitty, and Jubilee, who all somehow caught the same stomach bug at the same time.

The three girls sat at the table in the corner of the kitchen, after being asked by Logan to “move, or else you’re gonna get her sick.”

Now, while the three waited, they also watched. Rogue, Kitty, and Jubilee sat bundled in sweaters with mugs of tea that Logan had insisted they use instead of touching anything else in the kitchen. The soup was still simmering on the stove, and Logan leaned casually against the counter near you, your perpetual shadow.

Jubilee nudged Rogue with her elbow and whispered, “Look at him. He follows her like a freakin’ lost puppy.”

Rogue, pale but still managing an amused smirk, turned her attention to Logan, who was wordlessly following you as you shuffled over to the pantry. All you had done was mutter, "need a new bottle of parsley," and Logan had immediately fallen in line, watching you like you hung the moon.

“He does,” Rogue said, shaking her head. “I swear, I’ve never seen him this whipped.”

"Right? Like, what does she do to him?" Kitty chimed in, half-giggling despite her queasiness. “The man’s basically walking PDA.”

The three of them stared openly now, watching how Logan stood slightly behind you, his hand instinctively brushing the small of your back as you reached up for the spice jar.

“See that?” Kitty whispered, her voice thick with poorly stifled laughter. “His hand is always on her. Shoulder, back, waist—doesn’t matter where, just as long as he’s touching.”

“Bet he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it,” Rogue murmured, propping her chin on her palm.

You turned back toward the counter, glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of your nose as you set the parsley down near the cutting board. Logan was immediately there, adjusting the spice rack for you, though it wasn’t even askew.

“Thanks,” you murmured softly, giving him a small, shy smile.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he replied without hesitation, his voice laced with warmth.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound that…” Jubilee paused, wrinkling her nose in thought, “...soft.”

Logan shifted closer, his hand brushing against your waist as he leaned in and glanced at the soup. “Need anythin’ else, darlin’?”

You glanced up at him, adjusting your glasses. “No, I think I’ve got it. Maybe grab a loaf of bread from the fridge for dipping?”

He nodded and moved toward the fridge like it was his life’s mission. Jubilee blinked slowly.

“He cooks now?” she whispered.

“Logan,” Rogue called across the room, “do you even know how to make soup?”

Logan didn’t even glance back as he grabbed the bread. “Nope. I just carry the bread. Y/N handles the rest.”

The three girls stared at each other, jaws slightly agape.

“He’s domesticated,” Kitty said in awe. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

You didn’t seem to hear any of this, far too focused on stirring the soup and rambling softly about the science of cooking. “The steam comes from the water molecules vibrating faster with the heat. They spread out, break apart from the surface tension…”

Logan’s low hum of acknowledgment interrupted you, his hand returning to rest lightly against the curve of your back. You leaned into the touch without thinking, comfortable in his presence.

Kitty let out a mock-dramatic sigh, dropping her head onto the table. “I can’t watch this anymore. It’s too cute, and I feel like death.”

Jubilee grinned slyly, glancing at Rogue. “What if we pointed it out to him?”

“Don’t you dare,” Rogue warned with a half-laugh. “Man’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. Leave ‘em be.”

The three shared a conspiratorial smirk but kept their remarks low enough to remain unnoticed. Even if Logan somehow picked up on their teasing with his hyper-sensitive senses, he showed no sign of it.

You turned back to the girls, smiling softly. “It’ll be ready soon. How’re you all feeling?”

“Like crap,” Jubilee said with zero hesitation.

“Marginally better,” Rogue offered, though it was mostly for your benefit.

“It helps watching Logan act like a lovesick Labrador,” Kitty muttered with a grin. Rogue elbowed her.

You glanced at Logan, eyebrows raised slightly. “What are they whispering about?”

“Not a clue,” he lied smoothly, focusing on slicing the bread.

You didn’t push it, simply chuckling and going back to your task. Logan leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear.

“You’re good at takin’ care of everyone,” he murmured. “Never stops amazin’ me.”

You flushed under the quiet praise, your heart flipping in your chest. It wasn’t much—just one of his usual tender comments—but coming from Logan, it felt monumental every single time.

---

You paused walking again in the hall, adjusting your liner socks for your heels. Just a few months ago it was your birthday, and Scott got you the pair of heels you’d been wanting, probably only knowing about them from Jean.

It was too cold back then, but now it was warming up and you could finally wear them.

Other than the fact that blisters are probably forming on your feet from them fitting improperly. It wasn’t Scott’s fault; they were the right size and everything, they just didn’t fit your feet.

While you were bent down adjusting your heels in the hallway, Logan walked up behind you silently, his hand brushing gently against your back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low and concerned.

You looked up briefly before going back to fiddling with the strap on your shoe. “The heels Scott got me for my birthday—they don’t fit as well as I’d hoped. They’re a little tight, and I think I might’ve miscalculated how much walking I’d have to do today.”

Logan let out a soft, knowing grunt. Without warning, he scooped you up in his arms effortlessly, one arm around your shoulders and the other under your legs. He shifted your heels into his hand with the same movement, holding them beneath you like an afterthought.

“Logan!” you exclaimed, instinctively gripping his shoulders. “What are you doing?!”

“What does it look like?” he replied, already walking. “If the shoes are botherin’ you, you’re not gonna wear ‘em.”

You sighed, flustered. “I can walk perfectly fine! It’s not that bad, I promise.”

Logan didn’t even slow down. “Yeah, sure. Tell that to the blisters you’re about to get. Don’t argue, darlin’—you’re stuck with me now.”

Your protest was drowned out when Logan rounded a corner and found Scott mid-lecture in one of the training rooms. The students turned toward the two of you with wide-eyed curiosity.

“Logan, come on,” you whispered, mortified, but Logan only tightened his grip.

“Hey, Summers!” Logan barked, his voice cutting through the room.

Scott paused, looking up with an annoyed but inquisitive frown. Before he could say a word, Logan tossed the pair of heels directly at him. They smacked him square in the chest before falling into his hands.

“Next time, get the right size,” Logan said flatly, turning back toward the door.

“Logan!” you gasped, half-horrified and half-apologetic, your face heating up. “I’m so sorry, Scott!”

Scott was still standing there, stunned, holding the shoes as his class erupted into barely stifled laughter. “What—” he started, but Logan didn’t stick around long enough to let him finish.

Logan carried you straight to the common room, ignoring your continued protests. He set you down gently on the couch, crouching in front of you. “Stay put,” he commanded, already moving toward the med kit nearby.

“Logan, seriously, I’m fine—”

“You’ll be fine when I say you’re fine.” He popped open the first aid kit and returned to kneel in front of you. “Now, lemme see.”

You sighed, defeated, as Logan gingerly took your foot in his hand, inspecting the reddened spots on your heels. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as he applied adhesive bandages to the forming blisters.

“I don’t even feel it that much,” you muttered.

“Uh-huh,” Logan said dryly, not buying a word of it.

When he finished bandaging the other foot, he paused, still crouched with one of your feet resting on his knee. Instead of moving back, he began to gently knead the arch of your foot, his fingers deft and soothing.

“Logan…” You blinked, taken aback.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said softly, not looking up. “You’re always takin’ care of everyone else. Lemme do somethin’ for you for once.”

The words, combined with the warmth in his tone, sent a wave of unexpected emotion through you. You leaned back against the couch, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. His touch was firm yet tender, every movement speaking volumes about how much he cared.

As his thumbs worked over a particularly sore spot, you bit back a laugh. “When did you learn how to do this?”

Logan glanced up with a hint of a smirk. “Long life. Picked up a few tricks here and there.”

“Pretty sure you’re better at this than a licensed professional.”

“Damn right I am,” he said with mock seriousness, though his smile softened.

When he finally set your foot down, he stayed kneeling for a moment longer, his hands lingering on your legs. “Feel better now?”

You smiled down at him, your cheeks warm. “Yeah. Thanks, Logan.”

He nodded, pushing himself to his feet and bending down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Good. Now you just sit here and relax for a bit. I’ll grab you some tea or somethin’.”

As he walked away, you couldn’t help the affectionate smile that spread across your face. Moments like this reminded you that, despite his gruff exterior, Logan had a heart bigger than anyone you’d ever known.

---

You realized you should’ve told Logan this before he found out for himself.

For the past 4—5 years?—you hadn’t worn your cherry lip gloss, only because you couldn’t find it anywhere once you ran out. Turns out, it was discontinued. So, you pivoted to regular nude lip glosses or chapstick.

But this past weekend when you, Jean, and Ororo went on a girl’s shopping trip to the mall to hang out, you found a cherry lip oil that in your opinion had a better texture, and a less artificial flavor, than your original discontinued one.

The hallways of the mansion were buzzing with the usual mid-morning energy: students rushing to classes, a few sparring matches audible from the training rooms, and the faint hum of voices echoing off the walls. You adjusted the strap of your satchel, balancing it against your side, and smoothed the hem of your cardigan as you made your way toward your classroom.

As you turned a corner, Logan appeared from the opposite direction, walking toward his next class. He spotted you instantly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes softened. This was routine by now—a quick kiss or two between classes, a quiet moment to ground yourselves in a sea of chaos.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, his voice low and rough in the way that made your heart flutter.

“Hey,” you smiled back, the warmth in his tone settling over you like a blanket.

He leaned in for the usual kiss, his hand brushing against your lower back as you tilted your face up to meet him. But instead of the brief, customary peck, Logan lingered. His lips pressed against yours with a sudden, deliberate intensity, and his other hand rose to cradle the back of your head.

You stiffened in surprise at first, but quickly melted into it, your hands lightly gripping the fabric of his flannel shirt. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, with Logan angling your head slightly for better access. He tasted faintly of coffee, and the familiar warmth of him flooded your senses.

“Logan,” you managed to breathe out between kisses, your voice breaking the silence in short bursts. “We need—” kiss “to get—” kiss “to our—” kiss “classes.”

“Fuck, I missed that,” Logan murmured, his voice rough and filled with a longing you didn’t quite understand. Before you could respond, his lips captured yours again, his hold on you firm but careful, as though he was memorizing the moment.

The sound of a throat clearing broke through the haze, and you both froze. Turning your heads, you found Charles sitting in his wheelchair a few feet away, a bemused but patient expression on his face.

“I do hate to interrupt, but I believe there are a few dozen students waiting for their teachers at the moment,” Charles remarked, his tone light but pointed.

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you stepped back, adjusting your glasses and smoothing your hair. Logan, unfazed as ever, gave a small shrug, though you could see the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Right,” you stammered, gripping your satchel strap tightly. “Sorry, Charles. We were just—uh—”

“Testing the laws of attraction?” Charles quipped, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Logan grunted, his hand still lingering on your back. “We’re goin’. Don’t get your wheels in a spin.”

Charles merely chuckled and rolled past, leaving you to shoot Logan a flustered glare.

“You could at least pretend to be embarrassed,” you muttered, adjusting your satchel again.

“Why?” Logan asked, his voice tinged with amusement. “You look cute when you’re all flustered.” He leaned in close, brushing a final kiss against your temple before stepping back. “See you later, darlin’.”

As he turned to walk away, you shook your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. You brushed your fingers over your lips, still tingling from the intensity of the kiss.

---

Logan adjusted the cufflinks of his tux, muttering under his breath about how "these damn things are more trouble than they’re worth." The sound of his grumbling carried through the slightly ajar bathroom door, making you smile as you finished touching up your lipstick. Jean’s red shade was bold, but it worked, complementing your minimalist black dress.

You capped the tube and gave your reflection a once-over. The dress fit perfectly, the sleek design emphasizing your figure without feeling over the top. You adjusted your glasses and smoothed a hand down the fabric before stepping out into the bedroom.

Logan was by the dresser, still fidgeting with his cufflinks, but the moment his eyes landed on you, his hands stilled. His lips parted slightly, the earlier irritation on his face melting into something softer, something almost reverent.

“You clean up nice,” he said, voice lower than usual. His gaze roamed over you, lingering on the curve of your waist before meeting your eyes. “Real nice.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling a heat creep up your cheeks under his scrutiny. You crossed the room, and as you did, Logan closed the distance between you in two strides. His hand found your waist, warm and steady, before moving to rest gently against your stomach.

“Turn around for me,” he said, his voice a mix of request and command. His fingers pressed lightly, guiding you into a slow spin. As you moved, his hand never left you, sliding from your waist to the small of your back, then back to your waist again when you completed the turn.

“You’re somethin’ else, darlin’,” he said, his words filled with quiet admiration. “Should’ve made you wear this dress sooner.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “It’s not exactly standard mission gear.”

His other hand came up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Maybe not, but you wear it better than anyone at that gala’s gonna.” His thumb grazed your jaw, and for a moment, the mission faded from your mind entirely. It was just you, Logan, and the soft pull of his presence.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself back to reality. “We should get going. The sooner we get in, the sooner we can find what we’re looking for.”

Logan smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “You’re the brains of this operation, sweetheart. Lead the way.”

---

The gala was held in a grand hotel in the heart of the city, the kind of place that practically dripped with wealth and excess. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses. You and Logan entered arm-in-arm, blending seamlessly into the crowd of well-dressed elites.

The two of you moved with purpose, your fingers lightly resting against Logan’s arm as he guided you through the throng. You kept your movements casual, your faces relaxed, though beneath the surface, the tension of the mission buzzed like static. The target was somewhere in this room—or at least someone who knew how to access the server room where the sensitive information was being stored.

“Keep your eyes open,” Logan muttered under his breath, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“Always,” you replied, offering a soft smile for the benefit of onlookers as you tilted your head toward him. “You see anything yet?”

“Just a bunch of rich assholes,” Logan said, his tone gruff. “No sign of the guy.”

You nodded subtly, letting your gaze sweep across the room. The gala attendees were exactly as you’d expected—wealthy, polished, and exuding an air of untouchable arrogance. The kind of people who could fund black-market experiments on mutants and still sleep soundly at night.

Jean’s voice crackled softly in your hidden earpiece. “Remember, the server room is two floors down, heavily guarded, and keycard access only. If you can get the host’s card, it’ll save us a lot of trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got it,” Logan grunted, briefly touching his ear to acknowledge the message.

You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll figure it out. Just follow my lead.”

Logan shot you a skeptical look, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smirk. “You’re the brains, sweetheart. I’m just here to look good in a tux.”

“And to punch people if necessary,” you teased, your voice light despite the weight of the mission.

Logan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “That too.”

As you approached the bar, you caught sight of the host—a tall, broad-shouldered man with slicked-back hair and a predatory smile. He was surrounded by a small group of sycophants, his laugh too loud and his gestures exaggerated. On his lapel was the small, telltale glint of a security badge.

“There he is,” you murmured, leaning slightly into Logan as though sharing a private moment.

Logan followed your gaze and grunted in acknowledgment. “What’s the plan?”

You considered for a moment before replying. “We split up. I’ll distract him and see if I can get the keycard. You keep an eye on the exits in case things get messy.”

Logan’s hand tightened slightly on your waist. “Don’t get too close, darlin’.”

You smiled, the expression meant to reassure him. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“I always do,” he said, his voice softer now.

With that, you slipped away from him, weaving through the crowd with ease. You approached the host with a disarming smile, your movements graceful and deliberate.

“Excuse me,” you said, your voice carrying just the right mix of politeness and charm. “This is my first time at one of these events. You wouldn’t happen to be the host, would you?”

The man’s eyes lit up as he turned his attention to you, his smile widening. “Indeed, I am. Samuel Kane, at your service.” He extended a hand, and you shook it lightly, careful not to show any hesitation.

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself, tilting your head slightly. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man behind all of this.”

Kane laughed, clearly pleased by the flattery. “Well, I do my best to keep things interesting. And you, my dear, are an absolute vision. Your husband must be a lucky man.”

You felt a flicker of unease at the comment but maintained your composure. “He’s around here somewhere,” you said with a laugh. “But he’s not much for mingling.”

As you engaged Kane in conversation, you subtly shifted closer, angling yourself to get a better look at his security badge. The clip was loose, the badge slightly askew—a small detail, but one that worked in your favor.

Behind you, Logan lingered near the edge of the room, his sharp eyes never leaving you. He sipped his drink, outwardly relaxed, but you knew better. His tension was palpable, even from across the room.

Kane was still talking, his voice smooth and practiced, but you weren’t really listening. Instead, you focused on the timing, waiting for the perfect moment to make your move. When Kane turned slightly to greet another guest, you acted quickly, brushing against him just enough to unclip the badge without drawing attention.

“Oops,” you said, feigning a stumble as you steadied yourself against his arm. “Sorry about that. These heels aren’t the most practical.”

Kane laughed, clearly oblivious. “No harm done.”

You smiled apologetically before excusing yourself, slipping the badge into your clutch as you made your way back to Logan. He raised an eyebrow when you returned, his expression a mix of amusement and approval.

“Got it,” you whispered, holding up the badge for him to see.

Logan smirked. “That’s my girl.”

He slipped the badge into his jacket pocket, and the two of you began weaving through the crowd toward the hallway that led to the restricted areas. You kept a pleasant smile on your face, casually nodding at attendees as you passed. Beside you, Logan's body was tense, ready for a fight if it came to that.

Reaching the hallway, you slipped through the door labeled Authorized Personnel Only. Logan glanced back to make sure no one was following before pulling the door shut behind you.

The ambiance changed immediately, the buzz of the gala replaced by the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional beep of security monitors. The luxurious carpet was gone, replaced by plain industrial tile.

“Where to, sweetheart?” Logan asked in a low voice.

“The server room’s at the end of the hall, on the left,” you whispered, nodding ahead.

Logan led the way, his posture relaxed but his hands loosely curled at his sides. You reached the server room without incident, and Logan swiped the badge through the reader. It flashed green with a soft beep, and the door clicked open.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, racks of servers glowing faintly with green and blue lights. You stepped in first, your eyes scanning for the console you needed. Logan followed, closing the door quietly behind him and planting himself by it.

“You do your thing. I’ll keep watch,” he said, his voice steady.

“Got it,” you replied, already making your way to the terminal in the corner.

Sitting down, you pulled a flash drive from your clutch and inserted it into the port. Typing quickly, you navigated through the system, bypassing firewalls and locating the files you needed. Jean’s earlier instructions echoed in your mind—what to look for, how to find it, how to pull it without alerting any alarms.

Logan’s voice broke the silence. “How’s it goin’, darlin’?”

“Almost there,” you murmured, biting your lip as a particularly stubborn firewall slowed your progress. After a few more keystrokes, the file began to download.

“I’m in,” you said softly. “Just need a few more seconds.”

Logan didn’t reply, but you could feel his sharp gaze fixed on the hallway outside, ready for anything.

The download finished with a soft ping, and you quickly ejected the flash drive, slipping it back into your clutch. As you stood and turned to Logan, his head jerked up slightly, his ears picking up on something you couldn’t hear.

“Guards,” he muttered. “Two of ’em, comin’ this way.”

Your mind raced. “Okay, uh… we can do what they did in that movie we watched the other night. You know, the spy one!”

Logan frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “The hell you talkin’ about?”

“Logan,” you hissed, stepping closer to him. “We have to pretend we’re—” Before you could finish, you reached up, gripped his shirt, and tugged him down into a kiss.

Logan tensed for a split second before relaxing, his arms instinctively sliding around your waist. The kiss deepened quickly, his lips pressing against yours with a mixture of surprise and intensity. One of his hands rested at the small of your back while the other gently cradled the back of your head.

The sound of footsteps stopped just outside the server room.

“Hey!” one of the guards called out, his voice sharp.

You and Logan broke apart abruptly, panting softly as you both turned to face the guards. The red lipstick you’d meticulously applied was now smeared—not just on your face but faintly on Logan’s lips as well. One of the guards squinted, clearly caught off guard.

“This area’s off-limits,” the other guard barked.

Logan’s arm was still around your waist, and he stepped forward slightly, putting himself between you and the guards. “Sorry ’bout that. Thought we were sneakin’ off for some privacy. Didn’t realize we weren’t supposed to be here.” His voice was gravelly but calm, carrying just enough irritation to make the act believable.

The guards exchanged looks, then groaned in unison. “Just—get out of here,” the first one said. “Go back to the gala before we have to call someone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan grumbled, steering you back down the hallway. He kept his hand at your back, a silent reassurance.

You stayed quiet until you were back near the main gala floor. When Logan finally looked down at you, his lips quirked into a sly grin.

“You’ve got some guts, darlin’,” he said, his voice filled with approval.

You laughed softly, still catching your breath. “You’ve got lipstick on your face.”

His grin widened as he rubbed his thumb against his mouth. “You sayin’ it’s not my color?”

“Not exactly,” you teased. “But it definitely makes a statement.”

He chuckled, slipping his hand into yours as the two of you rejoined the party, the flash drive safely tucked away.

---

Logan had given in, allowing you to finally trim his beard. You sat perched on the bathroom counter, knees brushing against his sides as he stood in front of you. His rugged face was in your hands, the razor gliding carefully over his jawline.

As you worked, you started rambling, like always when you were focused on something. “Did you know razors date back to the Bronze Age? They found tools that were basically sharp stones or metals people used to shave with. Imagine that—scraping your face with a rock.”

Logan gave a quiet, non-committal grunt, his eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance.

You weren’t deterred, though. “Then in the 18th century, straight razors became popular. Those were sharp as hell, like something out of a horror movie. Then King Camp Gillette comes in and invents the safety razor in—Logan?”

You suddenly paused, pulling back the razor to wave your hand in front of his face. His eyes snapped up to yours, startled.

“What?” he rumbled.

“You weren’t listening,” you accused, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I was listening,” he argued, his voice dipping into a softer tone, almost playful. “Just… got distracted.”

You arched a brow. “By what?”

His gaze dropped, just slightly. His focus lingered for a second too long, and then it dawned on you. You glanced down and realized the problem. Since you were sitting on the counter, your chest was right at eye level for him.

“Oh my God,” you blurted, rolling your eyes as heat crept into your face. “Is that the only reason you agreed to let me do this?”

Logan’s lips curled into a small smirk, one that almost made you drop the razor. “Maybe,” he drawled, voice low and teasing. “I had a good view. Figured I’d let you have your fun.”

“You’re impossible,” you huffed, swatting at him lightly.

His chuckle was a quiet rumble in his chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t decide if you were more annoyed or charmed. Maybe both.

“Finish up, darlin’,” he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Can’t have half a beard. Not a good look for me.”

Shaking your head, you returned to your task, though the edges of your mouth tugged upward in a reluctant smile.

---

Later that day the two of you decided to watch a movie in the common room. The bowl of popcorn was already empty, thanks to Logan, but you were more than content to watch the new DVD Scott got you to replace the heels.

It was Star Wars: The Clone Wars: Season One, with director’s cut episodes, behind-the-scenes featurettes, and a few other things.

By the time the fifth episode came on, Logan had fallen asleep. His head rested face down against your stomach, his arm draped lazily over your waist, hanging off the edge of the couch. The quiet sound of his breathing filled the room, his broad shoulders rising and falling steadily.

You smiled down at him, your hands gently weaving through his hair. You couldn’t help but feel a certain tenderness as you sat there, watching the animated battle play out on the screen while he snored faintly against you. This was rare—Logan being so unguarded, so completely relaxed. It was a stark contrast to the usual gruff, sharp-witted man you saw most days.

For once, you were grateful he’d conked out. Not that you didn’t love spending time with him, but movie nights with Logan usually involved endless questions.

"Wait, who’s the green guy again?"

"What kind of idiot jumps into a fight with no backup?"

"So these clones just follow orders without asking questions? Sounds like bad programming."

Sometimes it was cute; other times, it was infuriating. Now, though? Peace. No commentary about Yoda’s battle strategies or sarcastic remarks about Anakin's life choices.

You shifted slightly to readjust, trying not to disturb him, though the weight of his head made it tricky. When you moved, he let out a small, contented grunt, his grip on your waist tightening just a little.

The scene switched to an intense lightsaber duel, and you caught yourself absently stroking Logan’s hair again. He groaned softly and nuzzled his face further into your stomach.

"Mm, warm," he mumbled, his voice gravelly, not quite awake.

"Logan," you whispered, shaking your head with an amused smile. "Are you seriously sleep-talking?"

"Not talkin'," he grunted, burying himself further against you like a sleepy dog finding the perfect napping spot.

"Uh-huh," you said, unable to suppress a laugh. Your fingers stilled for a moment, then continued combing gently through his thick hair. His faint snoring resumed, the small hitch in his breathing telling you he’d sunk back into whatever dreamland had him so quiet.

This—this was your Logan. The Logan who melted around you, softened in ways no one else ever saw. It made all the challenges—the struggles, the years of trying for a baby, the losses—feel worth enduring. You might not have everything you'd once wished for, but you had this. A quiet moment of contentment, wrapped in an old blanket on a threadbare couch, Logan safe and completely at ease in your arms.

For the first time in a long while, your heart didn’t ache for what could’ve been. Instead, you closed your eyes briefly and focused on the gentle weight of him, the comfort of his presence, and the sound of his steady breath.

When you opened them again, the episode was winding down. You grabbed the remote carefully, switching to the next before setting it down. Logan shifted again, his arm curling tighter around you.

“Y’can keep playing it,” he murmured groggily, not lifting his head.

"Thought you were asleep."

"I am," he muttered, eyes still closed.

"You mean you were," you teased.

"Same difference," he rumbled, the corner of his mouth tugging into a tiny smirk before he pressed closer. "Now stop talkin’. I’m comfortable."

You chuckled and let him settle again, absentmindedly tracing circles at the base of his neck. If this was Logan at peace, you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb him, not even for a galaxy far, far away.

that was 2010!

and i can't help but make a star wars reference whenever i can! especially a clone wars reference cause i'm a prequel girly... which is only because of anakin but-

if you don't like star wars literally just imagine anything else (no need to leave rude comments!)

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time #i love you always and forever

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traveler-at-heart · 7 months ago

Text

Doctor's In - Part 6

Summary: Your relationship with Wanda is put to the test when someone from her past stops by.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

You’re an adult. You’re an adult.

You have to tell yourself over and over again, because it’s been forever since you’ve been to the movies and the popcorn smells delicious, the candy assorment is incredible and you want to buy it all.

“Can we get nachos too?” Tommy says and your mouth waters.

“Oh my God, nachos”

By the time you join Billy and Wanda at the theater, you’re carrying two buckets of popcorn, four sodas, nachos and gummies.

“You are never getting the food for movie night again” Wanda glares, thinking about the sugar high she’ll have to deal with if the twins actually eat everything.

“Babe, it’s ok. I’ll eat everything before the kids can” you joke. Wanda rolls her eyes and you keep your promise, checking that they’re not gulfing down everything before the movie starts.

Ever since you told the kids about you two, you’ve tried to make time for at least one family day as you call it, every week. So, today they wanted to see Inside Out 2 (after making you watch the first one) and you were happy to comply.

Wanda has to stop herself from laughing at the way you react to the movie. You make the same faces and noises as her two children, laughing especially hard at the scene where Anger attacks Pouchy.

“I’m so full” Billy complains.

“Me too” Tommy says.

“Me three” you join, making them laugh.

“Whose fault is that?” Wanda says, playfully pinching your side and you smile.

“Sorry, love. Next time we’ll just get the popcorn”

Walking around the mall, you decide to take them to the arcade so they can exhaust themselves playing.

“Nothing with guns” Wanda warns in her stern mom voice.

“Come on, you two against me on foosball” you challenge, a hand behind your back to make it seem like it’s the easiest thing in the world to play against them. Still, you tie and on the last ball, you’re about to score when you feel Wanda’s hands on your face, making you turn to kiss her.

Her lips are soft and she looks so gorgeous, you melt against the contact, forgetting the game.

“Not fair” you say when you realise you lost the last point. Wanda laughs against your lips when you kiss her again, while the boys go play air hockey.

Once they’ve spent enough time exhausting themselves, you decide to head back home.

“Teeth and pajamas” Wanda says to the kids as they go up the stairs.

“What about me?” you follow her to the kitchen, cornering her against the counter. “Can I get a little sweet treat before bed?”

“And what would that sweet treat be?”

“You”

Wanda’s eyes darken, remembering how you ate her out right in this spot a few weeks ago.

“But you were a bit naughty, getting all that candy” she teases, turning her face when you lean forward to kiss her. “You’ve had enough sweets for the day, don’t want you getting cavities”

“Just one more, I promise” you plead, hand going behind her to cup her ass through her jeans.

She finally gives in to your advances, initiating a sensual kiss that makes you weak in the knees.

“Mom, I was ready for bed first!” Tommy shouts from upstairs, because they’re always making it a competition.

“Do they happen to go to summer camp? Winter camp? Anything camp?” you joke as she breaks the kiss, laughing.

“Come on” she leads you upstairs, where you usually lean against the doorway as Wanda tucks them in.

There, you see with adoration as Wanda makes sure they’re all set for the night, kissing their foreheads and whispering something in Sokovian. You know by the sounds of the room that sometimes they stay up after that, but they’re just talking to each other while they feel tired enough to sleep.

Once you’re at Wanda’s room, you sit in her bed, because the favorite part of this little routine is watching her while she’s in front of the mirror of her dresser. First, she takes off her jewelry, then the very light makeup she usually has and at the end, Wanda applies some skincare product because she insists there are wrinkles around her eyes that make her feel old. Even if she doesn’t tell you, Wanda enjoys how you take in every little movement she makes, and the look of complete love in your face.

“Think they’ll ever want their own rooms? Or not want to share as much as they do now?”

“Maybe when they’re teenagers. I remember Pietro and I just started to talk to more people and make other friends in high school. But he was still my best friend, at the end of the day. I think he’s the only person that knows everything about me”

“Everything?” you repeat, enjoying how Wanda moves over to your lap as soon as she finishes with her makeup. “Does he know about me?”

“Yeah, I knew the boys would tell him if I didn’t” she laughs and you smile, kissing her neck. “Had to convince him to not book the first flight here, because he wanted to come and give you the shovel talk”

“Bring it”

“Maybe later. I don’t want him to scare you off, baby”

“Nothing can and nothing will” you promise, carrying her so she’s laying in bed. You smile, enjoying how beautiful she looks. “Now, about that sweet treat”

—

Lazy Sundays are a thing that you recently discovered, and they have become your favorite.

It usually starts with waking up next to Wanda, cuddled up in bed, sharing kisses until you hear the unmistakable noise of small footsteps trying to get some morning cookies.

Then, you wake up, and play with the kids for a little, while Wanda makes breakfast. You always clean up, making sure she doesn’t do anything more than strictly necessary.

This morning is no different, and you’re excited because the plan for today is drive to the Natural History Museum. You can’t wait for the kids to see all the cool fossils.

“Darling, can you go to the car and check if I left my charger there? My phone’s dead”

“Sure, baby” you smile, giving her a playful smack on the butt as you walk to the door.

You’re still yawning, rubbing the sleep off your eyes while you step outside. You hear a motorcycle and perk up, wondering if it’s a certain someone you know. But whoever is driving parks right outside of Wanda’s driveway, and a man with short blonde hair and blue eyes gets off, carrying a duffel bag.

“Oh, sorry. I must have the wrong house” he says as you walk out the door.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Wanda Maximoff”

“No, you’re in the right place. Can I help you?” you say, your heart beating fast. This man is definitely not Pietro, as you’ve seen him in pictures before.

“Steve? Oh, my God!” you hear Wanda shout behind you and she runs past you, right into his arms. You’re taken aback by her excitement over someone whose name you’ve never even heard.

“Uncle Steve!” the kids join, and he stops spinning Wanda in the air (like out of a fucking romcom) and goes to greet the kids. You stan there, feeling uncomfortable until Wanda asks him to step inside and sees you.

“Oh, pardon my manners. Steve, this is Y/N”

Not my girlfriend, but Y/N.

Right.

“Nice to meet you”

“Captain Steve Rogers” he says, making sure you know he is a captain.

Oh, big man with a big title. Asshole.

“Doctor Y/N Y/L/N” you hit back.

“We grew up together. Well, he was a few years older than us, but the Rogers were so nice and welcoming when we first moved to the US” Wanda says, practically giving the man heart eyes. “And now, well, he’s in the army so we don’t see each other as much”

“Had a couple of days off, thought I’d stop by. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company” he eyes you curiously and then to Wanda. “I’ll find a place to stay”

“None of that, you’re staying with us. Y/N lives across the street”

“Yeah, I do” you nod. “We were just going to the museum today”

“On such a nice day? We could go and play some baseball” he says, and you have to resist the urge to punch him in his very defined jaw.

But the twins agree and Wanda is quick to follow suit, so you just smile politely.

“Come on, I want to hear everything” Wanda pulls him inside, her arm around his.

You look back to your place and sigh.

“Whatever” you mutter, going back to your own house.

Wanda doesn’t even notice until they are getting ready to leave for their baseball game.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asks as soon as you open the door.

“No, I’m more of an indoors type of person. Have fun, catch up with your friend”

“You’re still having dinner with us, right?”

“Sure” you say, knowing full well you’ll run to the hospital under the excuse of an emergency at the last minute.

“Everything ok? I didn’t mean to… ignore you back there. I was just so surprised about Steve”

“It’s fine” you lie.

“Ok. I love you” she stands on her toes to kiss you and you smile, appreciating how the words sooth your heart in spite of everything.

You’re restless, so you run to the gym and spend a good hour just listening to music and working out. By the time you’re back, completely exhausted, there’s another god damn bike on your driveway.

“Where the hell have you been?” Carol says as soon as you step on to your house.

“Wow, what’s gotten into you?”

“I have a lesbian emergency. And you’re the only other lesbian I trust enough!” she hisses, looking like a mad woman.

“Ok, chill, will ya? Let me take a shower and we’ll talk about it”

“Maria wants kids” Carol blurts out, following you upstairs.

“Ok, so?”

“So! It’s too soon”

“You’ve been dating since med school. By gay standards that’s like a good ten years of marriage, Carol” you’re about to step into the room to shower when you turn around. “Can I help you?”

“I’ve been to your room!”

“When we were fuck buddies. Now you’re engaged and I have a girlfriend, so wait downstairs for me” you say, because there’s no way in hell you’re letting her in just like that. You know Wanda would be upset about it.

“You’re mean”

“And you are a baby, Danvers” you stick your tongue out, closing the door to shower.

When you go downstairs, there’s Chinese food waiting and a couple of beers.

“I’m stress eating” she explains. You nod, taking out the food to the porch where you can enjoy the cool breeze. “Whose bike is that?”

“A friend of Wanda’s”

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

“So, Maria wants to have kids?” you retort, making her groan. “Come on, this can’t be a surprise to you. Unless she recently changed her mind”

“It’s not about having them, it’s about when” she says, playing with her food. “We agreed we’d get married, travel for a bit. Have a life outside of work and then think about kids. But she left, and we broke it off for a while”

“So, you’re worried it’s too soon because of the time apart”

“I’m angry” Carol says and it seems like it takes an enormous amount of effort to even admit it. “I stayed, I didn’t change our plans together. And now, she came back and wants to change things again. It doesn’t seem fair that Maria is calling all the shots”

“Did you tell her that?” you take a sip of your beer, enjoying the taste. You’ve only had wine for the last couple of weeks.

“I just said I’d think about it” Carol admits. “And then I ran here”

“I see” you nod, taking a breath before asking something you’ve thought in the past. “Are you afraid you’ll be a bad parent?”

“Yes” Carol answers immediately.

You’ve seen so many surgeons struggle to keep up with their personal life while doing their job. Hell, even Stark and Pepper had their rough patch when Morgan was a baby.

“I think you’d be a great mom, Carol” you admit, knowing how good she is with kids. “Maybe you can compromise on the timeline. Like at least have a wedding even if it’s small and a honeymoon. Because once a baby comes, it’s gonna be your job 24/7”

“Speaking from experience with two kids?” she wiggles her eyebrows and you chuckle. “Wanna tell me about the friend?”

“He showed up unannounced and Wanda acted like this… teenager with a crush. Oh, and get this, I wasn’t introduced as her girlfriend, she only used my name”

“That��s kinda annoying. Very I’m still in the closet vibes”

“Her brother knows about us, though” you say. Unless that was a lie.

“Well, you should tell her it’s bothering you. I’ve seen you make so many changes to your life for her, Y/N. You take time off and help her, and that speaks volumes about you”

“Maybe I moved foo fast” you think, sipping your beer.

“You are a lesbian” she points out and you both laugh.

For the next hour, you keep talking about work and other stuff, until you see Wanda’s car approaching. You’re hit with a pang of jealousy when you see Steve driving, and opening the car door for Wanda.

“Dude is buff” Carol comments, and she whistles. “Yeap, I see what you mean”

Wanda barely looks at your place, and she only pays attention when she catches up to Carol sitting next to you.

“That’s my cue to go. Good luck” Carol says, taking her jacket.

“Drive safely” you say. “Or maybe take a cab?”

“I only had half a beer. See ya, princess” Carol says loud enough for Wanda to hear. Your girlfriend glares at her retreating figure and then looks at you.

“Is that why you didn’t want to come with us?”

“I didn’t even know Carol was going to come, Wanda. She needed some relationship advice” you say, standing up to pick up the trash. “And I’m not the one who cancelled our plans to hang with a total stranger. You know I only get one Sunday off every three weeks and I worked extra hours to be with you for the weekend”

“Steve isn’t a stranger”

It annoys you that she ignores your comment about the time off you work hard to get. To spend time together, no less.

“He is to me”

“You’re right. Just come over and meet him? I promise you once you do everything will be fine”

“Sure” you say. That’s the last thing you want to do, but you feel the tension between you and Wanda, and if you say no to dinner or skip at the last minute how you had originally planned, you’ll get into a fight.

You can get through one dinner, right?

As soon as you walk in to Wanda’s home, you wish you had just faked a work emergency.

Steve is playing with Billy and Tommy, clearly not understanding how the control of the console works.

“Dragons are kinda lame” he jokes. Or not, who knows.

“Spyro isn’t lame” Billy says and you smile proudly. That’s your boy.

“Hey” the man greets you as you walk to the kitchen to find Wanda. “Your friend has a nice bike. Too bad she drinks and drives”

You give him a dirty look from across the room, figuring it’s better to ignore him.

“Do you drink and drive too?” he asks, and now you’re certain you will kick his ass.

“Oh, so glad you’re here” Wanda walks in, carrying a couple of plates. “Mind helping me with the salad?”

“Sure” you say, eager to get away from Captain Morality.

Unfortunately, he seems to be in a chatty mood during dinner and you have to resist the urge to ignore him every time he asks a question.

“What about your family?” he asks at one point and you think you might break the Hippocratic Oath and stick your fork in his hand.

“What about them?” you dodge the question, taking a bite of your chicken.

“Yeah, what do your parents do? Any siblings?”

“My mom’s a teacher, my dad’s dead” you say without any more context.

“Sorry” the man says.

“Maybe we can talk about something else” Wanda says, and it’s the first time in all night that she’s had some consideration towards you. She asks him about another friend of theirs and you’re allowed to eat peacefully, happy that Captain Ass is leaving you alone.

“You ok?” Tommy says next to you and you smile, nodding. “I really wanted to go to the museum”

“Me too, buddy. Some other time”

When everyone’s done you do the usual cleaning, starting with washing the dishes.

Wanda joins you in the kitchen a while later, saving leftovers and putting away some of the spices she used.

“Everything ok?” she asks.

“Fine”

“Are you staying over?”

“I have to go to the hospital” you lie. You’re gonna be restless and can’t stand the idea of just laying in bed thinking about everything that’s happened today. You need the rush of work to clear your head.

“Well, I’m glad you got to know Steve a little better. He’ll only stay for a couple of days before going to visit his parents. Joseph and Sarah are so great”

“Mhm” you give a noncomittal groan and she keeps going.

“It was always so nice for us to spend time with them. And my parents, they just love Steve! My mom always told me we would be great together, but then I met someone else and you know, the twins came along”

“Wow, that’s great”

“Yeah, I always wondered. Maybe we would have been a good couple” she keeps going, completely oblivious to how annoyed you are.

“Lucky you, he’s here now and seems like he’s ready to pick up were you left off”

“What?”

“I don’t know, Wanda. You’re out here talking about him like he’s God’s greatest gift to this Earth, how you wonder if your life would be better with him. Go be with him if that’s what you want. I won’t be the one to stop you” you finally break, finishing the dishes and drying your hands.

“Do you hear yourself? You’re being incredibly immature” Wanda hisses, looking at the kitchen door, concerned that her friend or her children will listen.

“I’m being honest. How do you think it makes me feel to listen to this?”

“Oh, please. I’m not the one who is all cozy with her ex” she retorts.

“Carol and I work together and you knew about us before you and I started dating”

“What do you want me to do? Kick my friend out because you’re insecure?”

“No. I want you to…”

I want you to want me.

The words come back to you from a place you thought was buried, and it hits you like a ton of bricks.

A hand covers your mouth, trying to keep the words in, as if you’re not crumbling down. Taking a breath, you try to steady yourself.

“I have to go” you say, eager to put some distance between you two.

“Wait” Wanda says, her demeanor completely different. She’s never seen you this vulnerable or shaken.

“I’m going to the hospital” you avoid her eyes, leaving in a rush.

All you can do is run.

—

Thank God for work. There’s so much to do, you spend all night running around and by the time you sit, it’s 5 AM.

“My feet are killing me” Carol says; she also came to the hospital to run away from her problems.

“Come on, cheer up” you say, giving her chocolate and a granola bar.

You sit next to her, both of you staring at the wall, caught up in your own thoughts. When Darcy stops by, she tilts her head, eyeing you curiously.

“Girl trouble?”

You both nod and she sighs, sitting between the two.

“Me too”

“You and who?” Carol says.

“Me. I’m the problem with myself” Darcy says and in spite of yourself, you laugh. “Come on, the doctor’s in. Who wants to go first?”

“Wanda has a surprise guest that looks like a model, and it happens to be a dude she grew up with and her parents loved and wanted them to marry”

“Wow. That’s awful. Is he staying with her now? Are you worried they’re gonna bone?”

“I am now” you frown.

“Ok, good talk!” Darcy says, grimacing. “Carol, wanna go next?”

“No, thanks” she says, afraid Darcy will put new worries in her head like she did with you.

It’s really fucking funny, isn’t it? The dude shows up out of nowhere, is passive agressive when Wanda isn’t looking, you fight and maybe now she’s sad and running into his arms.

Perfect.

Your pager releases you from the new horrors and you spring to action, hoping work takes your mind off of everything else.

There are a few accidents on the road due to the heavy rain, so you focus on that and even scrub in with Carol in what Darcy dubs the Gay Denial Club.

“Go to sleep” Fury says when he catches you drifting off while standing up a few hours later.

“I’m fine” you lie.

“Take a walk, sleep. If you don’t want to go back home now it’s fine. But don’t stay here, you’ve been at the hospital for too long”

“Ok” you rub your eyes, feeling hungry and knowing cafeteria food won’t do the trick for now.

The pier is the one place where you can feel at peace right now, so you pick up some food and eat on a bench, looking out the water. When it gets cold, you do something that only happens once a year.

Smoking is so damn bad, but so good when you’re feeling completely done with the world. Right now you’re wondering why you quit.

Someone walks up to you, and you recognise the parfum instantly.

“That’s bad for you” Wanda says and you let out a dry laugh.

“So I’ve heard. What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t at the hospital and I just had a feeling I’d find you here” she says, sitting.

“Good call” you say, pushing out the smoke away from her.

“I’m sorry”

“What for?”

“The way I acted. And that thing I said… I didn’t mean it like that. When I said I sometimes wondered what my life would be like, I didn’t mean it as if I wanted it to be different… because then I wouldn’t have Billy and Tommy and that’s just simply unconceivable for me”

“I know” you nod, but keep staring at the pier.

“Are you gonna say anything else?”

You shrug your shoulders, debating if it’s worth it to open up about what’s bothering you.

“My mom didn’t want me” you finally say, putting out the cigarrette and coughing. You feel the need to light up another one immediately. “I heard her once or twice, saying it would have been easier if it was only her and her new family.”

“That’s awful. I never meant to make you feel that way” she says, trying to reach for your hand, but you move it away.

“I know. In my head, logically, I get what you meant. But all I feel is like a second choice. And I really, really, don’t want to feel that, you know? I spent my whole life running from that, and I can’t deal with it. I just don’t know how”

“Is there anything I can do?” she asks, sighing. The sound of your pager goes off, and you smile.

“You should go home. And I have work”

“I love you” Wanda says, holding your hand as you walk past her. You nod, looking at her for the first time. She’s so beautiful and perfect and you love her so much, but you know you need to step back and work through the pain this whole thing revived in you.

“I know” you nod, walking away, your pager going off a few more times.

You understand the urgency as you arrive to the hospital.

“There’s a sinkhole in the middle of the city. You and Danvers are going to the site”

“Jesus, alright. Darcy, you’ll handle the ER while I’m gone, Bishop and Parker, come with me” you get ready, packing up the essentials and putting on a windbreaker, as it looks like it will rain all night long.

“Be careful” Chief Fury says as you all get on an ambulance.

“See you on the other side, Chief” you wink at him, closing the door as you enter last.

—

The rain drops hit the windshield, providing a soothing white noise that helps Wanda calm her thougths. She takes her time driving back home, not just because of the storm, but because she wants peace and quiet to think about everything you just told her.

She had hoped that she could fix things and you’d come home with her, but apparently it was a lot more complicated for you.

“Everything ok?” Steve says as soon as she walks in.

“Not really” Wanda admits, locking the door and dragging her feet to the kitchen. “For the first time in ten years I meet someone who wants me, and is nice and amazing and also loves my two kids… and I managed to make her feel like a second hand toy”

“Is that what she said?”

“No. It isn’t. But I screwed up so bad, Steve” Wanda says, pouring a glass of wine, beating herself up over and over again for what happened.

“It’s not your fault” Steve admits at last, because he knows Wanda can be too hard on herself.

“Yes, it is” Wanda argues, not catching what he’s trying to say.

“I need to tell you something” Steve shifts in his place. “Pietro asked me to check up on you. He said you wouldn’t let him come and that Y/N sounded too good to be true. So I offered to stop by and see for myself… I may have been a bit rude to her when we spoke”

“Are you being serious right now?” Wanda has to bite her tongue, because her children are asleep and she doesn’t want to wake them up. “What gave you the right?”

“Wanda, he worries about you”

“I am a grown woman, with two children, a successful career, a house that I own. I’m more of an adult than Pietro or you”

“We didn’t mean any harm” Steve insists but she raises her hand.

“You should go. Stay over tonight if you have to, but I want you gone tomorrow morning, Steve” she requests, her tone firm. The man nods, leaving the kitchen.

Wanda sighs and downs the last of her glass of wine, hoping she can call you and apologize. If she had known before that Steve was deliberately rude to you…

“Hello?” Darcy picks up. She insists when Wanda doesn’t speak. “Wanda? I see your name in the caller ID”

“Hi, Darcy. Sorry, I was hoping I could speak to Y/N but if she’s busy…”

“We’re all busy” Darcy says, updating the patient list. “Y/N is not here, she was called on site to deal with the sinkhole”

“There’s a sinkhole?”

“Yeah, it’s all over the news. Listen, I picked up the phone just to make sure you didn’t have an emergency, because she’d freak out if something happened to you. But if you’re fine I gotta get back to managing the ER while she’s gone”

“No, I wanted to talk… I’m fine. Just please tell her to call me?”

“Will try. Bye” Darcy says, hanging up as two more ambulances stop at the entrance of the ER.

Wanda walks over to the tv, watching as the local newstation reports on the activity.

“Doctors from Shield Medical Center and Stark Hospital have arrived at the scene to help with trauma patients. We encourage people to stay home as the heavy rain will continue throughout Westview” the anchor woman says. There’s footage of medical personnel walking by the scene but Wanda can’t spot you.

She stays in the living room, hoping to see you, just to make sure you’re ok. Pretty soon, she falls asleep on the couch, but the noise of the tv stays in the background, making her dream of you, and the sadness in your eyes the last time she saw you.

—

“I have to go with this patient” Carol says, while the EMTs get the man on the ambulance. “I’ll try to come back as soon as we stabilize him”

“Be careful” you nod, turning to Kate and Peter next. “What else we got? Parker?”

“I have a head trauma and we’re waiting for an ambulance. Doctor Stark was out of town but flying in right now. I have to prep the patient so he’s ready by the time Stark lands”

“How did he find a flight with this weather?” Kate asks and you chuckle.

“Bishop, he owns a helicopter”

“Oh, right”

“Alright, Peter, you’re taking the next ambulance. Kate?”

“I’m staying” she says and you nod. It’s been four hours since you got here and you’re all soaked. At least most of the people have been evacuated.

“We got two people down here!” someone shouts and you turn in that direction.

“How can we help?” you greet Clint Barton, and he nods your way, greeting you.

“Hey, doc. It’s a small girl and her mom, the woman is trapped under the car”

“Fuck” Kate says, and you hit her arm.

“Language”

“No, fuck is right. The woman needs to have her leg amputated if we want to get her out but it’s too risky to go down there”

“I’ll go” you say.

“It’s seriously risky” Barton insists but you shrug your shoulders and he nods. “Alright everybody, we’re getting the doc down”

“Is this a good idea?” Kate asks when you request the medical equipment.

“It will be fine, trust me. Be prepared to stabilize her as soon as they’re up. And inform Maria about the little girl, she’ll need a consult”

“Right away”

“Hold on to the rope and make sure you don’t move a lot as we set you down, ok? The rain stopped for a little bit so this is our window. If water keeps falling you could go down in a mudslide”

“Ok” you say, trying to ignore your erratic heartbeat. This is not the time to get cold feet. “I’m ready”

You use your flashlight to look around, and then the beam lands on a pair of small eyes that look up at you.

“All set. I’m sending the kid over” you speak through a radio. Barton confirms and then you turn to the girl. “Hey, I’m Y/N. What’s your name? It’s ok”

“I’m Alice” the girl says, staying close to her unconscious mother.

“Alice, hi. Look, I’ll get you out of here, and then I’m staying to help your mom, ok? I’ll be up with her in no time”

“I don’t want to leave her” the girl protests as you get her ready to go up.

“Alice, I need to take care of your mommy and it can be scary. I won’t leave her side, I promise” you say, because there’s no way in hell you’ll let her watch as you cut off her mother’s leg.

“Promise?”

“Pinky swear” you say, and she smiles, nodding. You talk to the radio “The kid’s ready. Bishop, check for injuries once she’s up there”

You get to work, noticing the woman is still unconscious but it’s probably for the best. As you set the equipment for the amputation, a light rain begins again.

“Status report?” Barton says when it seems like the rain is getting stronger.

“60% done”

“You don’t have a lot of time left”

“Great, super helpful comment, Barton” you mutter, struggling with the bone. God, this is the part that always made you dizzy in your resident years. It doesn’t help that you’re doing it in the middle of the ground that could collapse under you any minute.

You pull through the nausea that hits you, letting Barton know that you’re done. His team lowers a gurney and you prepare it for transportation, struggling as you have to drag the woman across the floor.

“All good” you say, watching as she’s lifted.

“We’ll come back for you, stay put”

You light up the area, just to make sure you’re not leaving any equipment behind. Something caughts your eye beyond the truck.

“We’re pulling you up now” Barton says over the radio.

“Hold” you say, quickly approaching the edge of the hole. “There’s someone else here! The car was covering him”

“It’s raining heavily, we can’t have you stay longer” Barton says, the water causing the dirt around you to losen up. You feel the soil beneath you getting softer as well, as if it was about to give in. “Just take the rope, you don’t even know if they’re alive”

“He has a pulse, just hold”

“Grab the rope, damn it” Barton barks over the radio. His words are met with silence, and then a second later, there’s a loud crash. He looks over and sees the car sliding further down, the dirt finally giving in at the weight and water.

You’re nowhere to be found.

—

The sound of thunder wakes Wanda up. She looks around the room, confused.

The TV is still on, and she rubs her eyes, not paying much attention to what is being reported.

That is, until the person on the screen says your name.

“We have reports that as Doctor Y/L Y/L/N was conducting a search and rescue operation, there were some complications. The other person is an unidentified male, and all we know is they were both taken back to Stark Hospital in critical condition”

“No, no, no” she stands up, taking her car keys.

“Where are you going?” Steve says. He has been unable to sleep, feeling guilty over everything that happened.

“I need to go to the hospital, Y/N could be injured”

“It’s dangerous to drive with the storm, Wanda”

“Stay with the kids, ok?” she ignores him.

“Ok. Be careful” he finally agrees, knowing nothing will make her change her mind.

The ten minute drive is probably the longest one of her life. She tries to stay calm, finding the local news on the radio, but there’s no mention of you.

Stark Hospital is full of people waiting for news on their loved ones. Wanda knows the way to the staff door, so she moves quietly and enters, looking back and hoping no one caught her. Everyone’s too busy to question why someone outside the hospital is there.

“Wanda?” Darcy calls as she exits an examination room, confused. The woman turns around, ready to explain why she’s there.

“Why are you calling for Wanda? See, you’re the one with a concussion, Lewis” you mumble.

Wanda sighs with relief when she hears your voice, walking past Darcy to get inside the room. She sees you, scrubs full of mud and a couple of cuts in your face and arms.

“You’re ok” she says, forgetting the conflict between you two, and hugging you. “I’m so relieved. I thought I lost you. I heard on the news…”

“They exaggerate for views”

“She almost died” Darcy accuses with a glare.

“Did not”

“Ok, fine. I’m telling your girlfriend because you’re a knucklehead”

Wanda breaks the hug, laughing and wiping away the tears that fell down the moment you were in her arms. You keep your hand on her waist, sad that you scared her.

“Y/N here has a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. Lucky for her, she managed to take the rope while carrying the man she found in that hole”

“Wouldn’t you call that heroic?”

“I’d call it idiotic. Please take her and don’t let her come for the next week” Darcy pleads to Wanda. “And you, sleep, rest, don’t move that arm and more importantly, come back with lots of cookies”

“Yeah, yeah”

“And no sex!”

Darcy glares at you two one last time, before leaving the room.

There’s a beat of silence and then you turn to Wanda, smiling shyly.

“Could I get a ride home? I can’t drive with this thing” you point at your armsling and she nods.

“Of course, come on” she says, her hands on your cheeks. She knows you need to rest and she’ll happily drive you home, but Wanda still needs a minute to ground herself, your touch enough to remind her you’re ok.

“I’m here” you say, your hand going up and down her back.

Wanda nods, holding back tears.

“I know”

After a few more seconds, she stands back, waiting for you to leave your spot in the hospital bed. You walk slowly, afraid you’ll get dizzy if you move too fast. Wanda is leading the way, holding your hand to steady you.

“Wanda? Is everything ok? Why are you here?” Barton says and you look confused at both of them. Not another almost husband, for the love of God.

“Clint, hi. I’m just taking my girlfriend home” she gestures to you. “Y/N, this is…”

“We’ve met” you say.

“She’s crazy” Clint points to you and Wanda is about to lash out at him when the man smiles. “You saved a man’s life, but try not to do that again”

“Agree” you say, smiling as he pats your good shoulder.

“Drive safely”

“How do you know Barton?” you ask when you’re finally in the car, relaxing against the comfortable seat.

“He’s Laura’s husband” Wanda says, backing out of the parking lot.

“Laura, as in, your editor? Wow, it’s a small world” you mutter, closing your eyes for just a second. Wanda’s voice brings you back to reality.

“We’re here”

“Here where?”

“Home, baby”

You open your eyes, startled.

“Oh. I thought I only closed my eyes for half a second. Thanks for the ride. Gotta shower and take a dozen painkillers”

“Will you let me… will you let me help you?” Wanda asks, reaching for your hand and you nod.

Instead of walking to her place, she leads you across the street, opening the door with the key you gave her weeks ago.

“Did you clean?” you say, looking around. You definitely didn’t leave everything so tidy.

“You know it’s the only thing that calms me when I’m anxious”

“You’re so cute and weird” you chuckle, swaying lightly. Wanda catches you in the air, making you lean on her side.

“You ok? Maybe you should have stayed at the hospital”

“Just tired” you say against her temple, enjoying the warmth of her body after spending all night in the pouring rain.

“Come on, then” she says, going upstairs with you.

It takes Wanda by surprise to notice she’d never actually been in your room before. You’re always at her place, mainly because of the twins.

As she looks at the few pictures scattered across the room, of friends and colleagues (and the lack of family portraits), Wanda realises how much you’ve done to acommodate to her life and needs, while asking very little in return.

“Bathroom’s that way” you yawn, sitting in the bed while Wanda searches for clean clothes.

“Give me a second, baby” she says and you nod, removing the armsling. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“No, but it’s probably because Darcy gave me the good stuff. I might be out for a good couple of hours after cleaning up”

“Noted” she smiles, helping you up. With gentle movements, Wanda pulls down your pants and underwear, while you hold on to her shoulders to keep your balance.

“I can’t lift my shirt” you admit with a blush.

“I got you, baby”

It’s a little difficult to remove the clothes with the limited motion, but you manage, letting out a giggle as Wanda finally throws the scrubs away, leading you to the shower.

“I think they’re too dirty to use them again”

“We’ll worry about that later. How do you like the water?”

“Right now, hot. I spent all night in the freezing rain”

“Ok” Wanda reaches forward to get a feel of the temperature, nodding when it’s ready. However, you stay in your spot, staring. “What is it?”

“Aren’t you getting in?”

“I have nothing to wear for after”

“That’s the opposite of a problem, as far as I’m concerned” you smile, pulling her hand.

Wanda enjoys this, knowing that you still want her. That in spite of your fight, there’s still that look of complete adoration in your eyes when you tease her or admire her figure.

“Alright” she says, stripping down until she’s naked in front of you. “Behave”

“But I just saved a man’s life”

“And got yourself hurt. We don’t wanna come back to the hospital with more injuries and explain to Darcy how that happened”

“Mmm, that would be funny, actually” you mumble, sighing against Wanda’s front when she stands behind you, her hands massaging your scalp. You feel the dirt slide off your skin, and the hot water relaxes your muscles.

There’s a struggle to stay awake when she’s being so soothing with her touch, but you manage by leaning against the bathroom wall, the water washing away the soap as you’re finally clean and warm.

With the upmost care, Wanda dries you off and brushes your hair, and you yawn as she helps you put on clean clothes. She’s wearing your college sweatshirt, looking adorable with the sleeves too long.

“It’s almost day” you say, looking out the window. Wanda nods, but helps you lay in bed.

“Just get some rest, ok?”

“Will you stay with me?” you ask, settling in bed and smiling up at her.

“Of course” she says, running her hands through your hair.

“For one second, I thought I wouldn’t make it” you confess, trying to stay awake to tell her how you feel. “And all I could think about was how I wished I had kissed you when you came looking for me”

“I’m glad you’re ok. And I’m not going anywhere” she promises, leaning forward to kiss you.

You fall asleep with a smile on your face.

—

The space next to you is empty, and as you regain consciousness, you wonder if it was all a dream. Pain hits every inch of your body when you wake up, to remind you that it was all very much real.

“Wanda?” you say, looking around. She’s nowhere to be found.

You go down the stairs, adjusting the armsling and searching for the other woman. It must be past noon, so maybe she’s home with the twins.

Since you don’t even remember where your phone is, you go across the street, knocking on the Maximoff’s door.

“It’s Y/N!” Billy says excitedly, running to hug you. He’s a little rough with his movements, making you groan. “I’m so happy you’re back, don’t go again. Uncle Steve is so boring”

That’s the best thing the kid has ever said to you, and then Tommy joins in the hug.

“Yeah, he never lets us play videogames and we eat green stuff that tastes like crap. And he says language if we say dude!!”

“Dude, that sucks” you say, enjoying every second of this. They both laugh, hugging you and you pat their heads with your one good arm.

“Boys, give Y/N some space, she’s recovering” Wanda says, smiling as you look at her. “I’m sorry, I had to come back to get lunch ready, I’m sure you’re hungry”

“One thing before that” you smile, pulling her into a kiss. Wanda smiles against your lips, laughing as the kids call you gross and leave in a rush.

Just as you’re sitting in the kitchen counter, Rogers goes down the stairs, carrying his bag.

“Thanks for letting me stay” he says, and Wanda nods, her arm around your shoulders, “Y/N, glad to see you’re ok. I’m sorry if I was a little rude at first. You seem like a great gal”

“Thanks, Cap” you smile. He shakes your hand and goes to say goodbye to the kids, Wanda pressing a kiss against your temple.

“We’re gonna miss you so much” Billy says a bit dramatically, obviously lying. You give him a thumbs up.

As soon as the man’s out the door, the kids run back to the living room, pulling out their videogames.

“Steve’s a little boring” Wanda says against your temple and you smile. “You’re so good with them and we love you so much. Never forget that”

“I love you too” you say, turning to kiss her.

Staying home for the rest of the week is not so bad, especially when you have your family by your side.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n

719 notes · View notes

runningupthatvecna · 7 months ago

Text

get the peach(es)

bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

it's the day after chrissy got vecna'd and you and the gang decide to check up on eddie at rick's. he's still in so much distress that you can't help but selflessly stay with your best friend (who you've been harboring a crush on for quite some time) and keep him company. 6k words, not proofread.

cw: the good old friends to lovers trope, eddie is an anxious bean who just needs to be held (by you, ideally), mutual (and not so secret at all) pining, i wrote this with fem!reader in mind (she/her pronouns) but can also be read as gn i guess, fluff, hurt/comfort (for eddie), pet names, mentions of chrissy's death, there shall be kisses and a lot of softness. nothing too explicit but minors are still advised to LEAVE

a/n: totally not self indulgent, that scene of him being so terrified in 4x02 ripped me to shreds so this is my fix-it attempt, trying to still my need to hold him and scratch his head. disclaimer: this piece of writing is based on the ending of that episode, meaning all credits for the setting go to the respective writers. sources to the header images here, here and here. lovely divider by saradika. ok thank you so much for reading byeeee love y'all <3

–––––

The overwhelming need to befriend the satanic metalhead found you at that party at the Wheeler house. You had almost said no to Nancy when she invited you, knowing damn well how the night would end. Steve passed out with a girl on his lap, Robin silently pining after Vickie from some corner of the room while clinging onto the red plastic cup in her hand, Jonathan getting higher than a kite with his old school mates, the younger kids asking you every five minutes if you could give them a ride since you usually were the one staying sober.

Additionally this time, there would be Eddie Munson. This familiar stranger Dustin, Mike and Lucas had met and somehow befriended over the last months, due to them joining his DnD club. "He might come off as a bit intimidating ... but I promise he's super chill and easy going!", Mike had tried to convince his sister, poking the tip of her shoulder repeatedly with a bunch of pleases during lunch break in the editing room of the school's newspaper. Until she rolled her eyes theatrically and agreed to let the ambiguous stranger, which the whole town collectively perceived as not really fitting in (and who you both certainly knew under the not so chill reputation he carried around), attend the celebratory events at Casa Wheeler. Occasion: Karen, Ted and their youngest leaving the house for more than one day, off on vacation.

You'd always kinda stayed out of his ways, used to observe his antics back at school with a silent laugh and this .. intrigue poking at your guts. To you he always stood out, and if anyone asked you'd be hesitant to admit it, but his willingness to go against the flow and not conform to the acceptable standards set by society was honestly impressive. And besides, surely this whole mysterious drug dealer rockstar image must just be a fassade and deep down he's just a dork, right?

His eyes follow you through the living room, an echo of your name crossing his mind repeatedly after having pulled Dustin into a corner for a brief interrogation. He finds it endearing how quickly and almost bashfully you look away every time your curious gaze meets his. As you redirect your focus to the conversation you're becoming engaged in, there's a soft smile creeping onto your lips. Little did he know it would soon start to haunt him in his dreams at night.

"Anything specific you're looking for?"

God, his voice. The close proximity invites your nose to inhale a mix of fresh cigarette smoke, bergamot and sandalwood, allowing you to sense what can only be him standing behind you as you skim through the cabinets of the Wheeler kitchen. You turn your head for your eyes to confirm your assumption and what they find is the deepest brown of round baby cow eyes they've ever met, up so much closer now. The paring of his gaze and plush smile somehow manages to dissolve every little prejudice you've been involuntarily harboring about him. Eddie Munson, the town's freak. Prime reason for the existence of the satanic panic. Drugs. And then you realise that you should probably do the polite thing and give him an answer. "Yeah uh, I was just trying to find the peach syrup", holding his gaze with a small lopsided smile, lost in its warmth which you wouldn't have dared to expect from it, before facing away from him again. He snorts a little, "peach syrup?", pauses to bring a thumb to his upper lip, lightly scratching the skin above as if to wipe something away, before he removes it again and the dimples appear around the corners of his mouth, "that is oddly specific." His response spreads a smile over your face, and the next thing he says widens it, "looks like you have taste though."

You move one step to the side, about to investigate the insides of the next cabinet, the kitchen itself almost empty of people with only three others chatting away in the corner across the island. He follows, undoubtedly trying to stay close, and the heat from the fire he just ignited somewhere inside of you rises to your cheeks. "Thanks, I really like peaches. Especially in my drinks. It adds a little ... kick to my sobriety", you explain, Eddie now quirks an amused eyebrow paired with a lopsided smile at you, and as you get to the last cabinet it dawns on you (and also Eddie) that this household severely lacks peach syrup. An atrocity. Thanks Ted.

After he helped you rummage through the entirety of the kitchen without success but under a lot of small talk, the metalhead vanishes from the function for an hour or so. At least that's what your brain concludes when your vision fails to spot him among the people who are in attendance. Maybe he's selling out of Nancy's bedroom. Maybe he's puking up his insides in the bathroom because he had too much of that weird beer he's been downing all night. Maybe he's banging some random girl in the bathroom upstairs. Or summoning a demon. Or both. At the same time. You once again try focusing your attention back to the conversation you are involved in. Munson already feels so dear to you that the lack of his presence is starting to form an ache in your heart. It's tugging on those strings with how much you already want him near you. Yeah. You're gonna be in trouble with this one.

And then he stumbles into the room from the direction of the front door, an event you're totally unable (and unwilling) to miss. He doesn't look like he just puked, nor sold a whole lot of the stash since you notice it still bulging out the left ass pocket of his black jeans. Instead, as he pushes past the small groups of people socialising – and towards you – while you notice a red net of round fruits dangling from his right hand, and you start to think that his disheveled hair and that rosy tint on his cheeks might actually not be from shagging either. He meets your gaze again as he approaches you with a grin and your heart dares to swell at his attentive gesture (you think you might as well pass away on the spot).

"Have some, peach."

It's not syrup, but you'll take them anyway. And with your next drink, you swallow down not only that peachy sweetness on your tongue, but also whatever this tingly feeling in your chest is.

"Chchhrhch.."

Pause.

"Hey, uh– chrhchhr.."

Silence in your bedroom, the only thing illuminating the space is the moonlight softly falling through the window.

"Chrch– a-are you there?"

You stirr awake from dozing off in your bed, trying to piece together the information your senses are giving you.

Eyes gone dry, you have to blink a few times. Figure out which year it is and so on.

Confusion lies between the static crackle for a moment. That nap after your shift at the diner was necessary. God, you need to fucking quit.

"No I'm sure she'll pick right up, just– hey pleeease b-be awake, goddamn it!–"

Is it already past midnight?

You don't know and you can't tell, the clock on your nightstand still broken. What you do know though is that the familiar voice belongs to your friend Dustin and it's desperately trying to get ahold of you.

They must have found him.

"Dustin? I copy, where are you? What's going on?", you finally grab the device from the nightstand, fully awake and aware of your surroundings now.

You need to know. If he's okay.

There's that all too familiar instant tingle in your chest again, an ache that made itself familiar to you for the first time when he was introduced to you at the one and only Wheeler party several months ago. The dungeon master of Hawkins High's Hellfire club, the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin and a super chill and easy going guy, to put it in Mike Wheeler's words.

What you didn't expect back then was your heart starting to develop that feeling, that tingle you'd always get to feel when you were in his presence, or like now, when his name is threatening to spill from your friend's lips on the other side of the connection at any moment.

"Aha! See? I told you she'd respond in no time."

You can practically feel Dustin's shit eating grin through the frequency, basking in being correct over Steve Harrington once again. It never gets old between these two.

"Oh my god", Steve's muffled voice is what you can make out vaguely from the off, he's probably palming his face.

"Dustin!", your voice disappears into the device, and your impatience grows with every passing second, hoping he gets the hint.

There's the sound of a door falling shut, leaves rustling under shoes, he must be outside now.

"Alright, okay yeah, so we found him at Rick's and he's really upset and he's been asking for you. I know it's late but can you meet us out here? And maybe, uh, stay with him?"

It's not even worth questioning. You're already wearing shoes. Your biggest hoodie in tow, you stumble into your kitchen with the intention to raid your own snack drawer. Pulling out Eddie's favourite, which you of course had stocked up on ever since hanging out with him at your place had become more of a weekly routine for the both of you.

Ten minutes, you told him. You'd be there in ten.

The drive feels like forever. The longest ten minutes of your life, you think.

You know the route like the back of your hand, having driven along the gravelly road leading from the last intersection before Hawkins' border to the outer world, to the serene woods surrounding Lover's Lake countless times. Eddie would take you here ever so often, for picnics, an occasional smoke after picking up a new delivery from Rick's, cloud or star gazing, listening to Metallica and Tears for Fears on Wayne's old walkman.

The gravel crunches underneath your white reeboks as they land on the ground. You close the door to your car as quietly as possible after you've taken out the bag and your hoodie.

Dustin and Steve are stood outside the boathouse, waving like madmen in the darkness once you come into their periphery.

The younger boy hugs you tightly.

"So glad you could make it", he gets out, the relief palpable through his voice as well as the grip he holds you in for a brief moment.

You look at them both after Steve presses you against him cordially, and breathe out through your nose, making your nostrils flare.

Dustin cracks open the case to you as he starts to ramble about the state in which they found your best friend, "well first he attacked Steve with a broken bottle, we had to put in great effort to convince him that we'd be on his side, and we came to the conclusion that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, basically."

What you want right now goes without saying. Everyone here knows how close you and Eddie are. As friends, of course. No one would think anything different.

Without wasting another second, the boys lead you inside where Max and Robin are knelt on the wooden floor. Heads turning towards the entrance of the room where you're now standing.

The sight of what's offered to your eyes, sitting opposite of them, breaks your heart.

You can see that he's slightly shivering, eyes glassy in the dim lit room. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips though once his brain grasps your presence, and he can't help anymore but let the water fall once his eyes lock with yours.

The pain that is swimming in those two deep warm brown oceans hits you like a dagger to the chest. Over the months of being friends with him you'd seen him various different states, none of them comparable to this.

"Peach", his shaky voice announces your arrival and the sound of your nickname spilling from his lips cracks through your bones. The bag that's slung around your shoulder drops onto the wood with a dull thud.

Wobbly legs carry him towards you with a gentle shove past Robin and Max. You're once again reminded of your best friend's sheer physical strength as he wraps his arms around you, instantly burying his face into the crook of your neck.

One arm of your own sneaks around his torso, pressing him against you as tightly as your own strength allows you, while your other hand comes up to bury itself underneath the mane and to end up scratching soothingly over the scalp above the nape of his neck.

Eddie lets out a muffled sob, sniffling into the collar of the sweatshirt you threw on in a haste. He doesn't really want anyone to see him like this, certainly not Steve Harrington, so he clutches onto you so tightly that he thinks you might just feel his heavy heart beating anxiously against your chest.

And you do. How could you not with the amount of world he means to you? Like an automatism your other hand rubs slow circles over his back. Comforting him in the best way you could. Not a conscious decision you make.

"Okay so, m'not meaning to ruin the party, in fact I'd love to stay for another round of doom talk, but I really should get home soon, guys", Robin scratches the back of her head after she gets up from her huddled position next to the wooden crate Eddie had been sitting on. Max joins in and agrees, mumbling something about having to move her mom from being passed out on the couch again into her bed.

"Yeah me too, actually. My dad's gonna be fucking pissed. We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?", Steve's voice echoes through the room and you can tell he's already shoved Dustin back outside, itching to drive the kid home.

As Eddie processes having to stay in hiding, added the possibility of everyone leaving without him, his grip on you tightens even more.

"It's okay, Eds", you speak softly, head slightly tilted so your cheek rests on the dark frizzy mop you could call his hair. The skin on his neck and scalp so warm underneath your fingertips as you keep scratching it, emphasizing your presence, "I'll stay."

A soft muffled whimper is what you get as a response, and the way he lets you see him in this state melts your insides to a puddle.

You just need him to be okay.

They wave their goodbyes behind your back, accompanied by mumbles of "see you in the morning", and you can't even bring yourself to turn your head around, fully focused on making the young man in your arms less terrified of the world. A world he was sure was now going to come for him with all its force – in deep conviction of him being responsible for Chrissy's misfortunate end.

The door falls shut and Eddie muffles a quiet thank you into the fabric of your sweatshirt. The skin on your neck is damp with his tears, wet eyelashes tickling every time he blinks.

"It's okay, Eds", you softly keep repeating your words to him while continuously rubbing over the denim of his signature Dio vest in a slow motion, when he feels the urgency to claim the truth into the collar of your sweater about what has happened, "I– I didn't do it, I swear."

As if you would need any convincing.

"Oh no of course you didn't, I know that", you're looking for a way to ease the distress this entire situation is causing him, his quivering voice adding to your desire to soothe him to inner peace, "can I make a suggestion?"

Eddie nods with another sniffle against your collarbone, the round wet tip of his nose brushing against the column of your throat lightly. To his ears, your voice sounds like silk right about now.

"How about we head over to the main house and get ourselves a little more comfortable? Since we're gonna be here for a little longer? My god you probably haven't slept or eaten at all, have you?"

You can feel him nod his head again with a hum this time, and you start to think that the tears might not just be pouring because he just witnessed someone suffer a gruesome death right in front of him, but also due to physical exhaustion.

It makes your heart ache even more, that tingle still present, even more so now. It hurts to see your best friend hurt.

He just needs to be okay. And in that heart of yours there's that little spark of hope that leads you to believe you could be the one helping him with that.

You'd really want that. Be all his to find comfort in, to hold close, to kiss stupid

Stop.

A sigh escapes your lungs at the thought. That tingle, that longing, it's selfish. It familiarly pools in your belly and slowly drips downwards. You push your brain aside. This is about soothing your best friend now.

"C'mon then", you utter softly, encouraging him with your hand to lift his head from where it leans against your shoulder.

For your heart it's almost too much to look at, the hurt still swimming in the glassy big brown irises, his waterline red and puffy. The soft smile returning to his lips causes the wet apples of his cheeks to push up slightly, reflecting the dim light coming from the one torch Robin left you, placed on one of the crates.

He really hadn't been able to close an eye for a single second since he he'd gotten up for school the day prior.

You smile back at him almost bashfully as you slowly create space between your bodies.

Eddie is grateful that it's you who grabs his ringed hand next.

He squeezes yours, hoping to get the message of this meaning something to him across.

And he closely trails behind you as you lead the way.

The house feels empty, like no one's really been here in months. You'd never been inside. The few times you'd accompanied Eddie grabbing stash you'd stayed in his van, waiting. But as far as you now can make out in the darkness, there's a couch with knitted blankets, a little TV with a whole stack of VHS almost rising as high as the screen itself, spilled and spluttered empty cans and papers and wrappings littered all around. Maybe this is why he never let you come inside with him. Keeping you out of this definitely not sterile mess. Along with keeping you out of the business.

In the middle of the living room, you let go of his hand and shuffle one step away from him. He's inside now. Safe. Job done. Doesn't need physical contact. You shouldn't, he's your friend. You feel like something between you would break if you'd go there.

Eddie thinks otherwise, regarding close proximity at least. He promptly follows you into what you believe to be the kitchen where you hope you might find a tea bag or two. He comes up behind you and encases you in his arms as you rummage through the cabinets (feels familiar, hm?), not at all ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your body pressed against his own just yet.

You giggle at the silliness of him putting weight on you just to make it harder for you to reach into the cabinets. It's endearing. And very Eddie.

Twenty minutes later and there's two mugs – cleaned to your best ability – with steaming hot liquid on the sixties wooden coffee table. Next to them a plate filled with the almost equally hot insides of a ravioli in tomato sauce can. Thank Rick for a still functioning microwave.

You drape the knitted blankets over both you and Eddie as you settle into the cushions. The only light existent coming from two lit candles on said coffee table. It wouldn't be too wise setting up the torch you think.

The side of Eddie's face glows in the orange yellow, his wide brown bambi eyes dried after the first grand storm, and there's this tug on the corner of his pink plush lips again. He exchanged his leather jacket for the freshly washed hoodie for comfort and a small part of you hopes he doesn't spill his dinner onto any of it.

You lean back into the backrest of the worn out couch and watch as he eats, a domestic thing you've done a thousand times already, yet you still find comfort in knowing that he's nourishing himself.

Or well, in this case, inhaling the raviolis.

"Thank you Peach", he moves to put the empty plate back on the coffee table and it makes the spoon chink and glide along the edge, "I really needed this."

His voice is a little hoarse, probably from the emotions of the hours behind him. Maybe he has indeed calmed down a little. His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing.

You give him the most empathetic smile you can bring yourself to display, painfully aware of the blaze that is transpiring through your leggings and seeping into your bones, "it's no big deal, really. I mean it is– uh, being there for you, is."

And he can't bring himself to look up at you. Instead, he stares at the empty plate on that coffee table in front of him.

"And to me as well. It really helps that you're here."

He doesn't bother moving the calloused warmth of his hand from the soft warmth of your thigh. It lights your entire nervous system on fire. In a good way.

And that's when you begin to wonder if everything that has just happened and is still happening right now changes anything.

"I'm so glad it does", is all you're able to get out.

Eddie decides that it's time to lean into your side and wrap his arms around your torso once again, drop his head back to its favourite place with a soft content little hum.

He just needs physical comfort. Of course. Just that. Nothing more, nothing else.

The words are redundant but your mouth articulates them anyway, "try to get some sleep, yeah?"

His back already lifts and falls evenly. You place your hand on the back of his head that rests in the crook of your neck again, scratching through the curls lightly, searching to help him shut off even deeper.

–––––

The candles have gone out by the time your eyelids slowly open. It takes you a moment to recall the location you fell asleep in, and you hope that the nightly darkness the whole room is now filled with hasn't invited any stranger to take advantage of your unconsciousness.

There's a warm hand holding your face, the pad of a thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek softly. It makes its way from the bridge of your nose to the outer corner of your eye, and back. And forth. And back. And forth.

You must have moved to lie down on your back in your sleep, with Eddie's weight still on your body, legs entangled. It's not the first time you've slept like this, there had been movie nights that had ended similarly.

His hand caressing your cheek though, yeah that is new. There's something unspoken in the air this time around. Your stomach is doing flip flops when you realise that he is propped up on his elbow, just .. looking at you. With eyes that don't require light to hint at whatever it is he is trying to say, or maybe not trying at all.

"Eds, what are you doing?", you ask almost in a whisper followed by a lopsided smile, expecting an unserious answer, because he always tends to make a joke whenever he tries to avoid conversing about emotions regarding his heart.

His thumb stops its acrobatics on your cheek, comes to a halt.

"I'm–", he takes a deep breath before he continues, "I'm just so grateful it's you that's here right now."

Your hand comes up to cup his. Brush over his rough knuckles with a thumb of your own. Enjoying the warmth that is seeping from his palm into your skin.

"Yeah, I figured you were gonna be a little opposed to spending the night with Harrington", you laugh, an attempt to turn your nerves into humour.

Eddie snorts a little, "yeah right, it's almost like you know me", he grins and pushes himself even closer to your face than he already is. It doesn't necessarily help in extinguishing the fire that's consuming you whole at this point.

"It's almost like we're best friends and I know what you think of him because every time Dustin or literally anyone else mentions his name around you, you're not necessarily secretive about it."

"Hey, my own worldview is not my fault, it's just– ... he just kinda seems like a douche of the highest order."

"He's quite alright, Eds. Try giving him a chance, I think he'd look great as Coffin's tambourinist."

He snorts again and you feel his breath on the column of your neck next when he dips his head down, nose pressing against the soft skin, his small giggle being swallowed by the collar of your sweatshirt.

Your favourite sound. Ever. Followed by the relieved moan Eddie lets out at the way your other hand is softly rubbing over his shoulder blade. The vibration against your neck makes you twitch as much as being pinned into the couch cushions by his body allows you.

It's soothing as much for you as it is for him.

When he lifts his head, the soft gaze he eyes you with is enough to let the goosebumps erupt. Even in the darkness of the room you can still make out those round buttons that could melt the entire north pole.

"Thank you, Peach, really. I'd be goin' mental right now and probably tryin' to counter that by smoking an equally mental amount of the stash I've been hiding here."

Your heart aches.

"I'm just glad I can be that kind of comfort to you, Eds. You don't have to go through whatever the fuck this is alone."

"I know I'm never gonna be alone as long as you are there."

You almost cry yourself now, his words making your hand travel from his own to his cheek, almost passing out from the way his eyes bore into your own once again.

Eddie isn't sure what it is that is making him feel lightheaded right now. The whole rollercoaster of events of the past hours. Or your words of affirmation. Or mayhaps it is your cute soft hand with that little ring on your thumb which is gently swiping over his damp skin.

That cute soft hand he'd been imagining countless times at night, silently yearning for your eyes to look at him differently, to finally see him in a different light the next time you'd hang out.

Probably a combination of just everything.

You reciprocate his soft half-lidded gaze, hand moving from his cheek to tuck some of his hair behind his left ear, revealing that delicate silver hoop earring you'd gifted to him for his birthday, after having talked your ear off about getting his ear pierced for literal months.

He'd insisted you join him for the appointment, "another metal moment for the books", as Eddie had called it, the need to have his hand held during the stab comically urgent in the way his voice sounded when he called you that day. And in the pace in which he picked you up.

"I'm here no matter what", you respond to his sentiment, that hand that brushed his hair away resting on the side of his neck while leaning the weight of your head into his palm that is still attached to your cheek.

Eddie's confidence reaches a new all time high with the admission of your unconditional support being stirred into the cocktail of hormones and emotions that's been circulating in his bloodstream for a generous amount of time now.

Because then he goes on by saying impossible things.

Impossible things with a slightly less platonic undertone.

"You're so fucking sweet, has anyone ever told you?"

You smile as you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks once again and you're sure he won't be able to see just how flustered he's getting you (joke's on you he does).

You're also sure he's out of his mind for saying that. Now.

"A shame, honestly. You should scold your best friend for not telling you sooner. Tell him what a fucking idiot he is."

Eddie earns another giggle from you. Music to his ears. Better than Metallica. Okay maybe not but .. pretty fucking close.

"I'll let him know next time I see him", you say with a grin, playing along with pleasure, and you ask yourself why it is only now that you realise just how fucking close his face is to yours.

There is a moment of silence in which Eddie hesitates articulating whatever is seemingly bugging his mind.

"Do you, uh, still like him?"

If you lifted your head just a little your noses would be touching. A silly and utmost redundant question, and yet, Eddie dreads your answer. If the circumstances were different, less dystopian and tragic, you'd seriously wonder what would spark the doubt in your friendship in him, but considering that everyone else would be going to pour their judgement over him, you understand.

Every word exchanged between the two of you at this hour is soaked in mutual infatuation, something the idiots in both of you are slowly starting to fathom as well.

"Of course I do, he's everything to me."

As you say it, you can't help the grin which reappears reliably each time you finish verbalizing your thoughts. It's contagious, you notice.

"And do you think – just hypothetically of course", it's only then he breaks eye contact to clear his throat, "of course", you interrupt him still smiling and cocking an eyebrow at him, "d'ya think it would be okay for this best friend to, uh, maybe...", Eddie pauses, internally watching the ship containing his confidence set sail slowly and ultimately letting the irrational thoughts win for tonight, "would you let him..."

Eddie generally wasn't someone who lacked confidence. It showed in the way he boisterously wandered the halls of Hawkins High, the way his demeanor never changed, his mask never faltered no matter who was around. Except for you. You who he had always granted a look underneath the impulsive, extroverted surface.

"Eds", you try everything in your power to stay calm even though everything inside of you is screaming right now and you're certain you can feel your pulse in your earlobes.

"Would it be just insane of that best friend to kiss you right now?"

You want to squeal and kick your feet, pull him into your face, pinch your own forearm, pass away, leave the house and never return, and stay right where you are forever, buried underneath your favourite metalhead, the parts where your bodies are touching practically on fire, cosy and content.

Instead, the most fond smile spreads over your lips as you try to contain your internal overwhelm.

It's still dark, the only light source being the full moon outside. Eddie's so hopeful of your reciprocation and even more terrified of ruining his entire life at the same time, those deep doe eyes at this point pretty much resemble the shape of the space rock orbiting earth. Rejection from you, his pretty Peach and the Bonnie to his Clyde, would be unbearable.

"I think so," you almost whisper, the hand that's been rubbing over Eddie's back coming up to lightly trace one of his eyebrows with your index finger because you just can't seem to not touch him in some way, "but you should know that I love his insanity."

Your small giggle is being silenced by a soft and cautious kiss from Eddie Munson. Like he doesn't want to break you. Or he's afraid you'll snap out of a haze, slap him and leave if he starts kissing you like he really wants to.

And then it's you who goes for it, you feel at home, right where you belong, you don't think you've ever felt this good. The hand on his jaw tugs him closer softly, pressing your lips to his with a bit more urgency.

It gives him all the confirmation he could possibly need.

That tingle, it grows and fills up your chest and shoots through your entire being, goosebumps and all. Eddie moans and breathes against your lips, tongue dancing over the thin skin, asking for permission.

His ringed hand digs deeper and slowly moves to the nape of your neck, intending to hold you in place, afraid you could slip away from him if he didn't. This blossoming thing between you could slip away from him. If he didn't.

It's so soft, the way his lips touch yours, and before you know it they move to your cheek, to your jaw, down your neck before Eddie comes up again, smiling from ear to ear, to gently bump his nose against the tip of yours and his lips return home with a soft and deep hum escaping from his lungs into your mouth.

Relief floods his veins along with whatever it is you're doing to him. The ability to shut out the insanity of the past hours is what he so desperately wants to cling to for as long as you allow him, even if the dawn will remind him of the horrid reality he's involuntarily become subject to live through now.

"You're making things so much better, Peach, you're so sweet, so fucking cute, so fucking good for me, do you even know for how long I've been dreaming of this?"

Eddie greedily pulls your face into his again, not even giving you a chance to reply and not nearly getting enough of your affection it seems with how fervently his tongue searches for yours.

A gentle collision of skin.

The soft whimpers you let out only spur him on. You not backing away from him, staying with him, letting him be this close to you?

You, the only constant source of consolation Eddie's ever really had.

Life changing.

Soft touches follow soft touches, your thumb traces his jaw repeatedly.

"You don't–", kiss, "for how long–", kiss, "I've been dreaming–", kiss, "of you as well", you breathe against him and Eddie thinks he might be about to resort to sniffling into your collar again with the amount of relief he is experiencing.

You'd let him.

"Yeah?", he presses his nose into your cheek with his eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, relaxing his entire body into yours as you let him slide inbetween your legs.

"Yeah, you know how much of a sucker I am for peaches", you grin, another peck to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, your hips slowly finding a rhythm against his own.

Eddie groans at your allusion with a wide grin on his face (and the feeling of your warmth against his dick), before pressing his lips against yours again lovingly, "me too baby, me too."

–––

taglist (thought you might be interested): @josephfakingquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @analogkraken, @wroteclassicaly, @songforeddiemunson, @joejoequinnquinn, @somnambulic-thing, @trashmouth-richie, @eddddiemunson, @ceriseheaven, @userchai

comments, reblogs and other forms of affection towards the author are greatly appreciated thank youuuuu <3

#nora writes #get the peaches #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #this took me way too fucking long to finish holy shit #but it's here now #it's here !!!#finally lol #also sorry for the title it makes me cringe but i couldn't come up with anything else for the life of me #oh well i hope y'all enjoy this either way :)#thank u for reading <3

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crushpunky · 7 months ago

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drew and actress!reader feel the distance

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

i casted tom blyth as y/n’s costar in this for no reason other than the fact that i love him lol

When y/n’s agent called her to tell her she got the role she had been stressing over for the past few weeks, she was over the moon and had immediately got to packing. Ever since she had started acting, she had always wanted to do a romantic comedy, and when the opportunity showed up on her radar, she knew she had to take it. Prior to the project, her “romantic” escapades on the stage and screen were fairly limited, and now that she was at a secure spot in her own romantic life, she felt like it was an idea she could finally explore.

It had been a while since she had been on set, taking a break for her and Drew’s wedding as well as to support Drew after the premiere of Queer, and she desperately yearned to be back. Don’t get her wrong, she adored spending time with Drew and her friends and family, but the need to be on set or on stage was entwined so deeply in her bones she felt like she needed it to live.

Now nearly a month into shooting her project, her glamorous and idealistic vision of being back on set had started to dwindle. Of course she loved when the cameras were on, when she could feel herself relax into her element, but as the days progressed reality began to sit in. She missed Charleston. She missed her home… she missed Drew. And as much as she hated to admit it, it was making her job harder.

“You good, y/n?” y/n’s costar, Tom, said, shaking her out of the daze she hadn’t realized she had sunken into. They were resting between takes, the two of them getting their hair and makeup touched up.

“Yeah, sorry.” Y/n said, straightening her posture and flashing Tom a grin. Tom was sweet, a true gentleman, and someone that she came to consider a friend over the course of filming.

“Are you sure? You’ve seemed a bit… off lately, no offense.” Tom looked at y/n, his face full of concern. She looked back at him for a second and, before she could stop herself, her eyes began to fill with tears.

“Shit, could we have a second, please?” Tom asked the hair and makeup team, who nodded before leaving the two of them alone.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what my problem is I—” Y/n began to ramble, dabbing at her eyes with a nearby tissue, praying she hadn’t already ruined the makeup that had just been fixed.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Tom said softly, handing y/n another tissue. She took it graciously, sniffling quietly.

“I just— god, this is so embarrassing!” Y/n chuckled nervously, glaring around at the numerous people who littered the set. Numerous people, all of which had people and places they missed too, but none of which were pathetically crying like herself.

“I can start crying too, if that would help.” Tom grinned, causing y/n to laugh lightly.

“No, I just… I really miss Drew, a lot more than I was expecting, I guess.” Y/n exhaled slowly, smoothing her hands along her pants.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” Tom asked, resting his chin in hand.

“This morning.” Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at how pathetic she sounded, acting as if she hadn’t talked to him in years when in reality it had only been a matter of hours.

“Have you asked him to come to set?” Tom asked.

“No, I… I don’t want to be a burden. He’s just so busy right now.” Y/n said with a sigh.

“I promise you, he won’t think that.” Tom said, looking past y/n for a moment before standing from his chair and offering her his hand. She took it, allowing him to help her out of her chair as they made their way back towards the stage where they were shooting.

“I know, but…” Y/n trailed off as a girl came over, straightening out her shirt and dabbing a bit of powder under her eyes.

“He won’t.” Tom said firmly, patting her on her shoulder lightly before moving to get into position for their next scene. Y/n smiled softly, her racing mind starting to ease as the cameras began to focus on the two of them.

After finishing their morning shoot, taking a break in her trailer, and returning for a night shoot, y/n was drained. As she trudged back to her temporary apartment, y/n sorted through her keys until she found the right one. With a yawn, y/n unlocked the door and flicked on the lights before tossing her keys on the table in the entryway. What she wasn’t expecting, however, was the navy suitcase near the couch… or the person sitting next to it.

“Surprise.” Drew said, a huge grin on his face.

“Oh my god!” Y/n squealed, rushing over to him before throwing herself on top of the boy. She kissed him slowly, relishing in the intoxicating feeling she had gone so long without.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n asked exasperatedly once they finally pulled apart. They had discussed him coming to visit halfway through filming, but that was still a few weeks away.

“Tom called me.” Drew said, tucking a piece of y/n’s hair behind her ear as he gazed at her softly.

“No he didn’t, oh my god—” Y/n buried her face into Drew’s shirt, hoping to hide her embarrassment. Had he told him about how she was pathetically groveling all week? Crying on set?

“Hey, hey.” Drew lifted y/n gently, sitting her in his lap so she could face him. He ran his thumb softly along her warm cheek.

“I missed you too, y/n. I–” Drew laughed, “I was already planning to visit you next week when Tom called me.”

“Drew I’m sorry I—” Y/n began, but was cut off when Drew ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

“I just wish you would’ve told me.” Drew said gently, placing a kiss to her forehead.

“I didn’t want to be a burden, Drew.” Y/n whispered. Drew sighed, dropping his hand to grab onto her own.

“Darling, I would gladly drop everything if you needed me. You never have to worry about that.” Drew said, soothing her hand. She looked up at him, the soft smile on his face and the sincere tone of his voice, and knew that he was being genuine. All of that worrying about how he would react melted away, replaced with the comfort Drew’s presence gave.

“Thank you, Drew. I’m sorry for not talking to you.” Y/n said, wrapping her arms around Drew. He hugged her tighter, tucking his face into her neck. His warm breath and stubble tickled, causing her to giggle in his grasp.

“What’s so funny?” Drew said teasingly, rubbing his chin against her jawline, causing her to laugh harder and fall onto her back. Drew propped himself onto his forearms, grinning down at her. She reached up, pushing his messy hair back.

“I love you, Drew.” Y/n smiled, looking up at Drew’s wide smile and crinkled, blue eyes. He leaned down, kissing her softly, the soft taste of mint lingering on his tongue.

“I love you.” He whispered, running his hands along her side as he pressed a line of kisses along her jaw. Here, wrapped in Drew’s arms, she was home.

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x actress!reader #actress!reader

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followingthebutterflies7 · 18 days ago

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Better Chug That Mountain Dew

Spencer Agnew x Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Spencer flies to New York to see your Broadway debut as Veronica in Heathers. He thinks he’s prepared, but he couldn’t be more wrong.

Warnings: Jealousy, suggestive content, strong language.

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Spencer had always supported you. He had been with you long before your name started showing up on cast lists with lead roles beside it.

He was with you when you were still doing side characters and bit parts, juggling Smosh shoots and auditions and late-night table reads. He’d been there when you flubbed your lines during a cold read, when your callback got canceled last minute, when you cried on his couch because you thought maybe you just weren’t cut out for this.

And he had celebrated with you when you landed your first commercial gig, sat with you when you nervously paced the green room waiting for an off-Broadway callback. Always in your corner. Always proud.

And now here you were.

Veronica Sawyer. In a full Broadway production of Heathers. A proper stage. A real audience. You had made it.

He was the first person you called when you landed the role. And the first to scream. He had gotten you flowers, a handwritten card full of awful inside jokes, two Mountain Dew Kickstarts to celebrate together, and one line at the end that said: “You’re gonna blow the roof off, V.”

You told him about everything. About moving to New York, the panic of signing a lease, the chaos of rehearsals. Every phone call was a play-by-play: the set design, the costumes, how your choreographer nearly cried during the first full run-through.

You sent him shaky videos from tech rehearsal, FaceTimed him in full costume, left voice memos rambling about how terrifying and beautiful it all was.

He listened to every one. Saved most of them.

And when you finally said, “Opening night’s in two weeks. Come if you can,” he didn’t hesitate.

He bought the ticket the same day.

Now he was here to see opening night.

He’d been proud. So proud.

But he’d also been warned.

By you. By Courtney. By Angela. Even by Shayne, who read the libretto once and handed Spencer a sticky note with the words: “Don’t get weird during Dead Girl Walking.”

Spencer, at the time, had scoffed.

“Please. I’ve seen them flirt with demons in Smosh sketches. I can handle Heathers.”

He thought he was prepared.

Thought knowing the lyrics, the plot, and the choreography would be enough. You’d told him everything; you’d called him after every rehearsal, shared backstage gossip, sent him snippets of songs, and described scenes in painful detail, all in an effort to prepare your man.

And he said he could handle it.

He really thought he could.

Right up until opening night.You’d met him for a quick dinner and a drink before the show. You only had water, to stay hydrated, and he had a much needed Kickstart after a bumpy flight. You’d teased him about it for years. His one true vice, second only to you.

You looked radiant in that chaos of the evening; focused, lit up from the inside. The kind of glow that didn’t come from makeup or lighting. The kind of glow that only came from doing what you loved and knowing you were meant to do it.

You kissed him quickly outside the theater, laughing as you turned to leave, promising to see him after curtain.

Spencer watched you go, heart full.

And then the show started.

He slid into his seat, front row, aisle, black button-up, trying to play it cool. The Playbill in one hand. A bouquet of your favorite flowers in the other.

From the first number, he was done for.

You weren’t just performing, you were transforming. Veronica’s words, her emotions, her anger, her heartbreak, every part of her lived in you. You disappeared into the character.

He had the biggest smile on his face, until it started slipping.

He watched those two dumb jocks hit on you, watched them hover, flirt, touch. Watched you laugh. In character, yes, but Spencer’s hand gripped the edge of his seat all the same.

His smile twitched slightly in Fight For Me.

You were singing to JD, eyes soft, vulnerable. Reaching out.

Hey

Could you hold my hand?

And could you carry me through no man's land?

You grabbed JD’s hand.

Spencer flexed his hands. Smile gone.

Then came Freeze Your Brain.

JD sang to you like you were the only person in the world. Got in your space. Pressed a Slurpee to your lips. You sipped.

Spencer’s jaw tensed. Hard.

Go on and freeze your brain

Try it

He was seething. In the prettiest, most tightly wound way imaginable.

The moment the blue lighting spilled across the stage, he felt it, this low, humming sense of doom building in his chest. He knew what was coming, you had told him about this song so many times before.

The one scene Spencer had tried so hard to mentally prepare for.

But nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

It started quiet. Innocent.

You were alone on stage.

You could feel the energy in the room change. The audience buzzed with anticipation. Spencer sat up straight, every nerve ending on fire.

You started the number with fire in your eyes. He’d never seen you so alive. So in control.

The demon queen of high school has decreed it

She says Monday, 8 a.m., I will be deleted

They'll hunt me down in study hall

Stuff and mount me on the wall

30 hours to live, how shall I spend them?

You prowled across the stage like it belonged to you. Because it did. And Spencer’s pulse kicked up in response.

I don't have to stay and die like cattle

I could change my name and ride up to Seattle

But I don't own a motorbike

Wait.

Here's an option that I like

Spend these 30 hours gettin' freaky, yeah

The lights shifted again.

There was a bed.

JD on the bed.

Spencer leaned forward in his seat without realizing.

I need it hard

I'm a dead girl walking

I'm in your yard

I'm a dead girl walking

Before they punch my clock

I'm snappin' off your window lock

Got no time to knock, I'm a dead girl walking

You crossed the stage slowly, deliberately. The choreography was sensual, full of bravado and desperation. Your voice wrapped around the lyrics with dangerous intent.

You stalked JD, your hands sliding up his arms slowly. Deliberately. Spencer’s eyes widened.

Sorry, but I really had to wake you

See, I decided I must ride you 'til I break you

'Cause Heather says I got to go

You're my last meal on death row

Shut your mouth and lose them tighty-whities

You shoved JD back onto the mattress. Climbed into his lap. JD’s hand slid to your waist.

Spencer’s blood boiled.

Then JD ripped open your blouse. You tossed it dramatically to the side, matching the beat. The crowd gasped. Spencer stopped breathing.

He knew it was acting. He knew the show. Knew this scene.

But knowing and watching were two very different things.

You looked so real. Your hands, your breath, your grin, it wasn’t timid. It wasn’t “sorry, this is for the part.” It was bold.

And then you kissed JD. Hard. Deep. Hands in his hair. Spencer’s eye twitched.

His nails dug into the Playbill in his lap.

He could feel his knee bouncing, jaw locked so tight it ached.

The lighting turned red. Hellfire.

Then, the line.

You turned slightly toward the audience. The spotlight caught your face just right.

Your voice is crystal clear, every lyric dropping like a challenge.

And in the middle of it, in that exact moment, your gaze snapped to the front row.

Right to him.

You held his eyes.

A single second. Maybe two.

And you sang it.

“Better chug that Mountain Dew.”

He stared, slack-jawed.

And when your lips curled into the faintest smirk, he nearly blacked out.

Because that line? That line was a direct hit.

That line was sacred.

He had once said in passing that the only thing he’d marry before you was a cold Kickstart at 9 a.m., and now here you were; mocking, seducing, owning him with five words.

He hadn’t even realized how tense he was until then. Not until those five words punched him in the chest.

Everyone knew he loved that stupid drink. You especially.

You turned back to JD like it was nothing.

He didn’t hear the rest of the song. He saw movement, saw you ducking down to your scene partner for another kiss, but all he could focus on was the electric buzz under his skin, and the fire in your eyes when you looked at him like that.

Someone seated next to him noticed how agitated he was and leaned over. “Are you good?”

“No,” he said, eyes still locked on you. “Not even a little.”

Because it wasn’t just the acting. It wasn’t the choreography. It was you. Performing like your life depended on it. You were electric. Unapologetic. On fire.

And the way you looked at him?

Like you knew exactly what you were doing.

Like you were daring him to do something about it.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your hips moved, how your voice hit every note like a weapon, how JD’s hands had lingered for far too long.

He wanted the show to end.

He wanted the curtain to fall.

He wanted you.

--------------------------------------------------------

Backstage after curtain call, you barely made it to the dressing room before your phone buzzed.

SPENCER:

Hope you’re ready to wrap this show with an encore.

At home.

No lights, no audience.

Just you and me.

You laughed, a little breathless. Warm. Buzzing from adrenaline and applause and him.

A knock.

You opened the door.

Spencer stood there, arms crossed. Eyes burning.

“Hi,” you said sweetly. “Did you enjoy the show?”

His eyes dragged down, slow. Then back up.

“Don’t ‘hi’ me.”

You blinked, still smiling. “What?”

“You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Did I?” you asked, batting your lashes. “I was just playing the role.”

Three steps. That’s all it took.

He closed the distance, voice low and sharp.

“I don’t know if I want to marry you or strangle you.”

You blinked. “That good, huh?”

“You made eye contact with me. During that line.”

“Yep.”

“That wasn’t in the choreography.”

“I improvised.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“Tonight, you’re my dead girl walking.”

You shivered.

“I meant it, by the way,” you said softly, stepping closer. “I knew exactly where you were sitting.”

He looked at you like he wanted to tear the world apart just to get you closer.

“You’re evil.”

You tilted your head, all fake innocence. “And you love it.”

His hands slid to your waist. His breath hit your jaw.

“I’m driving us home,” he murmured. “And when we get there, you’re gonna repeat every word you sang tonight.”

“Oh?”

“But this time,” he growled, “you won’t be pretending who it’s for.”

You smiled.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

He didn’t wait another second.

#smosh #spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #smosh games #smosh fic #smosh fanfiction #heathers #musicals #broadway musicals #smosh x reader #shayne topp #courtney miller

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coralhoneyrose · 1 year ago

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Why Chrom Fire Emblem is The Husband of All Time: An Essay

SO. There was a screenshot going around of a reddit thread asking about how Chrom has managed to maintain such lasting popularity as a Fire Emblem husband even 6 years after Awakening came out. Given how beloved he still is another 5+ years later, I could not resist taking the opportunity to talk about just what I think makes him so great and endears him to players.

Character Introduction:

Let’s start out the same way Awakening does—with Chrom’s in-game introduction. This is one of the immediate ways Chrom sets himself apart. The game boots up and before anything else happens, Chrom is there expressing his unshakable faith in the player character. You take down the Bad Guy™ together, he turns and gives you this wide, puppy-ish smile and then you push him out of the way to take the hit from an oncoming spell in his stead. Right away you know this is someone your player character cares about deeply—and clearly that care is returned, because he’s immediately running over to make sure Robin’s alright.

Of course, as we all know, things go south very quickly after that. But as the cinematic plays out, and you proceed to watch yourself stab him in the chest, the *first* thing he does, the very first words out of his mouth are: “this is not your fault”. Chrom has just been completely blind-sided and arguably betrayed by his best friend, possibly his spouse, and his immediate instinct is to absolve Robin of guilt. He is literally more concerned about Robin blaming themselves for what happened than about his own imminent death. That alone tells you so, SO much about the depth of their relationship. It tells you both how deeply Chrom cares and how well Chrom knows Robin too. And not only that, but his final request, the ONE and only thing he asks of Robin before dying is that they will promise him they will escape from this place. In his last moments, his single “selfish” wish is for Robin to assure him that they will do what they can to survive. Chrom’s final request is for Robin to give him the comfort and peace of mind he can only obtain through the assurance that even though he won’t get out of there himself, Robin will. He just wants to be able to die believing they’ll take care of themselves and be alright—and knows them well enough to realize that unless he makes them promise, they likely won’t.

AND THEN. And then!!!! You jump cut to Robin waking up in the field with all the sunshine and Chrom’s smiling down with the softest expression and his ridiculously blue eyes. He lifts Robin up by the hand and pulls them right up to his face (because he has no concept of personal space, apparently) and OUUuuggh.

Those scenes in direct sequence make me so insane. You get Chrom’s life ending with Robin immediately followed by Robin’s life starting anew with Chrom. Chrom’s unwavering faith in them and his eagerness to extend his hand and bridge the gap between them from the moment they meet until his last breath. The warmth and kindness and love that Chrom treats Robin with is communicated so effectively in the first few MINUTES of the game it honestly makes me feel unwell. Showing how profoundly Chrom cares for Robin immediately endears him to the player. And he only gives you more reasons to love him as the game goes on.

Personality:

There can be a tendency in some corners of fandom to simplify Chrom to just being either a generic prince charming type character or a lovable himbo. I’m not here to police how other people enjoy him, but I will say that those characterizations fail to get at some of the aspects of his personality I find most compelling.

Chrom is deceptively nuanced. While there are certainly ways in which he aligns very closely with the standard jrpg protagonist, I suspect that a lot of his enduring popularity is the result of the ways he deviates from it too. He is brave and loyal and cares deeply for his friends, yes. He has profound conviction in his ideals and strives to do the right thing, as is typical for that archetype…but what makes Chrom so lovable is his determination to keep trying to be good in spite of the ways it does not come easily to him.

We see this in the Valm arc, when he’s struggling to reconcile his own beliefs about justice with his sister’s ideals for peace. We hear echoes of it when he talks about the horrors the Ylissean people endured at his father’s hand and how despite that, he has never been able to understand how Emmeryn forgave them for the cruelty they once directed her way. He has so much admiration for his older sister’s ideals despite the fact that peace is not his first instinct.

When Emmeryn first sacrifices herself, Chrom is consumed with grief and rage, and it takes some time for him to understand why she made the decision she did. “Peace above all else” is just not how he’s programmed to operate…yet he wants it to be. If you count the drama CDs as canon, then that serves as another excellent example as well—where the message of his sister’s sacrifice is so lost on him that his first instinct is to respond to it with violence and prejudice and hatred directed at the very people she sought to reach out to. For a moment there, we see him veer from the person he wants to be towards what we as the player can only assume is the person his father left him afraid that he would become.

And yet he finds his way back. He stumbles, he lashes out, but his love for his friends and fear of losing more of those he holds dear is able to help him course correct.

I love that tug-of-war in him. I love that we get glimpses of the darker paths he could have gone down and that there are tangible consequences for his mistakes. Early in the game, we see Chrom lose control of his temper and how Gangrel and Aversa are able to take advantage of that to officially declare war on Ylisse. Chrom later tells Gangrel that were he alone, he can imagine losing himself in that need for vengeance but reiterates that it’s love that is able to keep him from succumbing to that.

And it’s not only that he’s able to stop himself from being horrible—his losses are the catalyst for him coming into his own as a leader. He’s able to pick himself up and hold himself together to see their troops through the rest of the war. And he manages that despite the fact that in the course of mere days, he lost both his home and his most important person and has been freshly saddled with the duty of ruling an entire country. That’s…a lot. And really goes a long way in demonstrating Chrom’s incredible strength of character and conviction. We get some wonderful moments of vulnerability where he confesses to being riddled with doubts about his own capabilities and worthiness, but in spite of that, he is still determined to try to be the person that Ylisse needs him to be.

All of this leads me right into another wonderful aspect of Chrom’s personality, which is that he is just…so driven by emotion. He feels DEEPLY, and while the narrative definitely uses that as a way to hurt him and force him to grow at times, something that really stands out to me about Chrom is how the story isn’t here to send a message that it’s wrong for him to be that way. Chrom’s big feelings are one of his greatest strengths in addition to his greatest weakness—they’re what saves his life and ultimately Robin’s too, if you go the sacrifice ending route.

And ya know what? I honestly think that’s such a breath of fresh air. I love how much he does NOT embody the emotional disconnectedness that you see pushed a lot of times with stereotypical masculinity. I love that he is the hero, and he's gallant, and very traditionally "manly" in a lot of senses…AND that he's also very emotional and guided by his heart. If you’re playing with f!Robin then you wind up with a really refreshing inversion of gender stereotypes from that: in which Chrom is the emotional decision maker and Robin is the more calculating and logic driven of the two.

Beyond his big heart, I can’t talk about what’s so charming about Chrom’s personality without touching on the ways he embodies a certain level of gap moe as well. Chrom is so stern and serious, as well as quite charismatic when he’s speaking from a place of passion. But on the flip side of that, we get to see him as an absolute bumbling mess when he’s out of his element. He’s easily embarrassed / flustered, self-conscious about his appearance, and often socially awkward where romance is involved. While these traits may seem of minor importance compared to the whole rant above, I think they’re really important for humanizing and rounding him out.

There are lots of other nuances to his characterization that go a long way in fleshing him out too. Despite being a prince, Chrom is blunt and completely unmindful of formalities. That, along with his impulsivity, definitely gets him into trouble sometimes. He’s melodramatic and blisteringly sincere. He’s a little bit clumsy and doesn’t know his own strength. He has a dry sense of humor and can be surprisingly funny. He’s optimistic and trusting—not due to naivete or stupidity but because he has decided that giving people chances and believing the best of them is an important value to him and one that is worth embodying in how he lives his life.

Lucina’s presence in the story and his immediate and complete acceptance of her is an extremely effective way of demonstrating what an incredible father he is too. Honestly, he just has really wonderful relationships and deep admiration for a lot of the women in his life and that absolutely earns him points in my book (and I suspect in many others’ as well). When you look at all of that together, I don’t think it’s hard to understand why he’s so beloved.

Design:

Slightly less serious note here, but I think it warrants discussion regardless because character design absolutely contributes to player’s feelings about and interpretation of a game’s cast members.

And Chrom is…well, he’s eye candy, honestly. He’s got the nice, exposed arm, the messy blue hair, the completely nonsensical outfit he somehow manages to look handsome in anyway (his questionable sense of fashion is a charm point, okay?). Add in the square jaw and the surprisingly long eyelashes and he’s just. He’s very pretty. Idk what to tell you. Bonus points for the summer scramble cg where he has the most inexplicably flat butt of all time. And I really do believe that some of the oddities of Chrom’s design lend memorability to him and go a long way in setting him apart from other lords in the series with similar design concepts. The insistent asymmetry across many of his outfits, the fact he’s showing a little skin, idk it just WORKS. Chrom is hot, I don’t make the rules.

Relationship with Robin / the Player Character:

Last but not least, I want to talk about Chrom’s relationship with Robin.

I touched on some of this in his character introduction already, but Chrom is just…the biggest Robin stan. If Robin has only one fan then that is Chrom. If Robin has no fans it’s because Chrom is bleeding out on the floor with lightning in his gut.

He just has such deep respect and admiration for them. He values Robin’s opinion and insight and thinks so highly of them and their ideas, often serving as an enabler in many cases (setting the boats on fire, the volcano, etc.). Chrom’s faith in Robin is SO unshakable that when his daughter tells him that Robin is going to be magically controlled and forced to murder him, his response is, “That won’t happen because Robin and I love each other so much that everything will somehow be okay. No, I will not elaborate.” And ya know what? He was RIGHT. Their bond DOES wind up being so strong that it’s able to change fate. The narrative is quite literally validating his slightly ridiculous insistence that him and Robin just care about each other The Most of Anyone Ever. He is Robin’s biggest advocate from the moment they meet when he defends them from Frederick’s suspicions all the way to the game’s close when he either assures Robin that their life was worth preserving or, as in the case of the sacrifice ending, that he will spend the rest of his own life searching for them until they return.

Honestly the fact that Chrom was willing to potentially risk dooming the whole world to the fell dragon’s awakening 1,000 years down the line just so he doesn’t have to lose his comfort tactician is WILD. For the game’s hero to literally say “we don’t have to defeat this evil for good, the people of the future can figure it out” JUST so he can keep Robin is absolutely unhinged behavior and I love it. I think it’s incredibly humanizing that he’s a little bit selfish about the people who are most important to him…that despite his willingness to sacrifice himself or run headfirst into danger, he draws the line at losing Robin because he’s already lost his most important person once and he’s not going to let it happen again. Chrom and Robin absolutely come across as a little codependent and a lot obsessed with each other and personally I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And then there’s his love confession to Robin. GOd...

I think that’s the most flustered Chrom appears in any content in the entire game…and it’s because he treasures their friendship so deeply that he is petrified about messing it up or saying the wrong thing. I love that he goes into their S support dead set on NOT telling Robin what is going on but the second he realizes that Robin is under the impression he doesn’t care about them or like spending time with them anymore he is so horrified and desperate to correct that line of thinking that he blurts out the full love confession on the spot.

He’s SO earnest throughout the whole thing, but then at the end he hits you with the whole “this is the best day of my life”, and the “You are the wind at my back and the sword at my side. Together, my love, we shall build a peaceful world, just you and me” (thank you Matt Mercer for your services), and the cg image of him staring right at Robin with what are basically heart eyes and. I just. There were no survivors.

That’s not even their only proposal / love confession scene either! The fact that the game gives us an entirely separate alternate proposal that’s more serious in tone is the icing on the cake. How many ships out there can say that they get not one but TWO canon proposals that are both that good? Truly no one is doing it like chrobin.

Closing Remarks:

Chrom is a well written and nuanced character who struggles and grows over the course of the story while always remaining true to himself and his ideals. His intense and unending trust, admiration, and love of Robin endears him to the player from the moment the game begins all the way to its conclusion. He is kind and good while still being fundamentally flawed (and it doesn’t hurt that he’s very handsome to boot). Bearing all that in mind, while the message of Awakening may be that nothing is inevitable, Chrom’s conceit and execution were always going to lead to MANY of those who play the game coming to love him and pick him as Robin’s husband…and there may be no greater evidence of that then the fact I’m out here writing all of this eleven years after the game’s release.

#Chrom #Chrom Fire Emblem #fe 13 #fe: awakening #chrobin #meta #character analysis #text post #Don't mind me I just have a lot of Chrom feelings all the time

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absurdthirst · 1 year ago

Text

Mother's Day Surprise {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: Menstrual blood/cramping, violent attack, near death, surgery, comma, mentions of blood and disturbing scenes, recovery, assistance with basic needs, helping Joel shower, confessions of feelings, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, mentions of family planning, breeding kink, dirty talk, cream pie, infertility, depression, feelings of worthlessness, death, harsh and cruel world, babies

Comments: Helping Joel Miller recover from a horrific attack leads to a life you never knew possible.

**🚨🚨 Contains spoilers for Season 2 of The Last of Us🚨🚨**

A/N: Happy Mother's Day to all those lovely moms out there and anyone wishing to become one in the future. Being a mom doesn't necessarily mean biologically. 💜

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You grunt, squinting as you struggle to see in the dark. It's the middle of the night, the sun not yet peeking through the curtains, and you wonder why you woke up until your stomach twists and you realize you're wet between your thighs. "No. No. No. No." You cry, tears in your eyes as you scramble out of bed and rush into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You shove your shorts down and sob at the blood that's gathered there. You got your period. Again. You sit down on the toilet and gather some paper to clean yourself up while you try to smother your cries but there's a knock at the door and Joel's voice resonates through it, "are you okay, sweetheart?" He asks and you choke out, "the bed." Joel walks over to turn the lamp on, his eyes widening at the blood on the sheets. "Oh sweetheart." He sighs, resting his forehead against the door frame. "I'm sorry, baby. I - I am useless." You sob and he rattles the door handle, "let me in." He demands and you flush the toilet, washing your hands before you open the door. Joel immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "We will try again." He promises, "I didn't give up when I was recovering and we won't give up now." He assures you while you sob into his chest.

He sighs, not even going to deny his own disappointment, although people who used to know him in the Boston QZ would never believe it. Joel Miller, disappointed that you aren’t pregnant. The very obvious sign of his seed not taking root staining the sheets of the bed you share. He shouldn’t want a child. He’s closer to fucking sixty years old than not, just a few years shy and yet he finds himself wanting to see you round with his child. His second child by blood, his third in his heart. Ellie is staying with Dina tonight, so he doesn’t have to worry about waking her up as your sobs wrack your body. “You aren’t useless.” He soothes, frowning when he remembers your emotional words. Standing in the bathroom, he wishes there was something that he could do, fertility doctors from twenty plus years ago were a thing of the past. Most people do not want to bring children into this fungi infested world, but here in Jackson, he has hope for the future. Hope for a chance to pass on a legacy.

You cling to him, knowing he's disappointed. Lord knows you've been trying enough but you just can't seem to get pregnant. It's like you are cursed and you wonder if Joel's injuries hurt your chances.

****

You gasp when you look up to see a mangled man carried into the hospital. You set your cup of coffee down and stand up, the resident doctor rushing around to try and stop the bleeding. "What the hell?" You ask and a teenage girl is clinging to his hand as the team try to wheel him into the surgery room. "Joel. Joel. Don't leave me." She pleads, tears in her eyes, and you reach for her. "He's in good hands, sweetheart. Come here. Let the doctor work." You manage to drag her away and she wraps her arms around you and sobs, "I didn't know - she nearly - they nearly- it's all my fault." She chokes and you rub her back, frowning at the doors where the man disappeared.

Hours later, the door swings open and the doctor comes back through, his work scrubs stained with blood. Ellie had been impatiently sitting and leaps out of her seat. “Is he alive? Where is he? I want to see him.” She demands, making the doctor lift his hands slightly. “He’s alive.” He reassures her, making her tense shoulders slump with relief and tears prick her eyes. “There was massive trauma to the head, and-“ Ellie interrupts him. “Of course there is, that bitch tried to beat him to death with a fucking golf club.”

Your eyes widen at the news that he was nearly beaten to death. You wrap your arm around Ellie’s shoulder. She had rambled about how Joel saved her, how much she loves him, how he’s the father she never had. Her words made your heart melt and you silently prayed he pulled through. “It’s going to be a long road to recovery. For now, we will monitor him and see if he pulls through the night. It’s touch and go still.” The doctor warns Ellie who nods, “he will pull through. Joel is a stubborn fucker.” You chuckle and rub her upper arm, “let’s get you something to eat and a shower and we can come back when he’s settled in a room.” You suggest and she’s reluctant to leave but the doctor nods, “he’s unconscious. Will be for a few days at least. His body needs rest. Go get some food and he will be waiting for you.” Ellie nods and lets you guide her to your house. Her home needs to be cleaned up and you don’t want her to see the aftermath of the battle that occurred in her home.

Joel had put up a fight. Furniture is broken, the mirror in the hallway - one he had grumbled about every day when it showed him how old he is - is shattered. Shards of glass and spurts of blood splash the walls. Ellie grimaces and stops at the blood stain on the floor right by the open front door. Obviously no one had cared about closing up the house when rushing Joel off to the hospital. “Right.” She sighs, turning when she hears someone running towards her. “Ellie! Fuck, is Joel alright?” Breathless, Tommy stops in front of the teenager and his face almost begs her to tell him that his older brother is okay. “I tracked her, but she got away.” He explains; that being the reason he wasn’t at the hospital earlier. “She went to the river and I couldn’t track her from there.”

Ellie straightens her back, shaking her head, “that fucking bitch.” She growls and you answer Tommy’s question. “Joel had surgery. He’s unconscious right now. Still in the air as to him waking up without brain damage. The doctor did the best he could but it…it was bad.” You admit and Tommy closes his eyes, needing to see his brother. “I need to see him.” He says and you nod, “he’s unconscious still. I’m going to get Ellie changed and get her something to eat.” You tell Tommy who reaches out to squeeze Ellie’s shoulder. “Get something to eat, kid. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” Tommy promises and Ellie doesn’t say anything else, going quiet. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

You nod, “go clean up. I’ll get started on trying to clean this up.” You tell her and she makes her way upstairs. You sigh, looking over at the pool of blood and you feel sick. You’ve always had a crush on the older Miller brother since he arrived at Jackson, but you’re certain he doesn’t even know you exist.

****

You check Joel’s pulse, his eyes moving beneath his eyelids. He’s still unconscious, has been for a few days, and the hospital isn’t equipped with equipment to test brain function. All you can do is watch and wait to see if he will wake up.

Joel hurts, every inch of his body hurts and it feels like he’s trying to move mountains just to open his eyes. Fingers twitching and he opens his mouth, groaning quietly.

You gasp when you hear him groan, watching his eyes flutter, and you let go of his wrist, calling for the doctor. The doctor comes in and you gesture to Joel, “he is waking up.” The doctor nods, checking Joel over, his bandages wrapped around his head, and they had to shave his head to perform the surgery. You wonder if he will be angry about losing his hair. Ellie is in the waiting room so you head out to see her. “He’s awake.” You tell her and she stands up, “he is. I want to see him.” You shake your head, “the doctor is checking him over. Let’s give them some time.”

It takes a long time to understand what the doctors are telling him, frowning in confusion and wondering why his head feels like it’s been squashed like a grape. Moving is slower and he hisses in pain when he learns that his ribs have been broken and his leg is also fractured. Opening his mouth, it’s hard to get a word out. “E-E-El-Ellie.” He manages, needing to see her.

The doctor nods, “she’s okay.” You escort Ellie into the room, wanting her to see her father is awake, and she rushes over to the bed. “Joel. Joel. I’m sorry.” Ellie chokes, reaching for his hand. He groans as he squeezes her hand, silently assured that she’s okay.” You watch their reunion with tears in your eyes from the doorway.

“D-d-don’t bl-ame y-your-self.” Joel rasps out, still fuzzy on what happened. He doesn’t remember anything much before waking up in the hospital. Although he gets the sense he was angry- desperate. He groans in pain when she lunges forward to hug him, but he doesn’t push her away.

You watch Ellie hug him and you know in that moment you’ll do whatever you can do to make sure Joel gets better. Ellie pulls back after several moments and the doctor checks Joel’s vitals. “He needs some more time here so we can observe him.” Ellie nods at the doctor’s words and you walk over to rub her back.

“I’m going be honest, Mr. Miller,” the doctor tells him as he pulls back. “I am surprised that you even woke up. There was significant bleeding and swelling of the brain. Tests seem positive but there could be damage that hasn’t manifested itself yet.” He tells Joel. “It’s going to be a long road to recovery for you.”

Joel doesn’t say anything. He was nearly murdered. He knows he shouldn’t be alive right now. Ellie sniffs as she steps back and Joel attempts to squeeze her hand. The doctor grabs his clipboard and looks at Joel’s recent vitals. “Waking up was half the struggle. Let’s monitor you and go from there.” The doctor says, “and we will keep running tests.” Joel grunts out an “okay” and you offer him a smile, “you’re a fighter just like Ellie said. She’s lucky to have you.”

You’re familiar to him, he can’t place it, but his thoughts are still fuzzy and jumbled. “How- how long have I been here?” He asks after a moment. “Three days.” Ellie answers and he frowns. “Who- where have you been sleeping?”

Ellie says your name, “I have been staying in her house. She has been cleaning our house because there was too much blood and - and it was a mess.” Ellie reveals and Joel’s eyes are hazy as they meet yours, silently saying goodbye thank you and you nod in response. “Just focus on getting better, Ellie and I are enjoying some girl time.” You tease, winking at Ellie who chuckles.

****

Joel stays in hospital for two weeks and you look after Ellie, preparing his home for his return, and when the doctor declares him fit to leave, he says that he needs someone to look after him. He still can’t shower by himself, he needs help eating and he struggles to walk alone. It’s going to be a long recovery for Joel. “I can help,” Ellie says without hesitation as Joel sits on the edge of the bed.

“You can’t help me do everything.” Joel grunts, knowing that he could never allow the teenage girl to help him shower or get to fucking bathroom. “I- Tommy-“ his brother has been by to visit every day, and he’s talked to him about taking Ellie. He doesn’t know how he will manage, but he also knows he can’t burden Maria and their baby with his convalesce.

“Tommy is out of town on a scouting mission.” Ellie says, knowing Joel’s brother was set on revenge for his brother’s condition. He just had to track Abby down. “I can help.” You volunteer, feeling close to him despite not having a full conversation with him. Spending time with Ellie, hearing her stories about Joel and his bravery had made you fond of him. “I can help him at home.” You offer and the doctor looks to Joel for his answer.

His eyes slide to you, unsure why you would volunteer to help him, but the doctor immediately nods. “That would be a good idea.” He agrees. “You can check his bandages and make sure that he doesn’t get an infection.” He smiles at the three of you like it’s a done deal and Joel frowns slightly, not sure if he likes the idea of you helping him.

You nod, noticing Ellie’s grateful smile, and you look at Joel, “it’s for the best. I can monitor your health and help you. I’m a nurse. It’s a medical decision.” You tell him and he grunts, knowing he doesn’t have a choice. He’s discharged and you wheel him to the doctor’s truck, knowing Joel won’t be able to walk home. You arrive outside of the house and Joel grunts, “I can walk.” He doesn’t want a wheelchair so you let him wrap his arm around you to guide him into the house. “Take your time.” You reassure him, “no need to rush.”

The shuffle is slow and painful, making him huff in irritation that he can’t move like he would want to. Even as he’s gotten older and been slower, he’s been able to move how he wanted to. Now, in a cast and recovering from nearly dying, he needs help. Ellie jumps forward to open the door and he’s glad to see that the scene that had been left from the attack you told him about has been cleaned away. He will have to thank you for that. “Fuck.” He pants, out of breath and in pain just because of the short walk from the truck to the house. “I don’t know how the fuck I’m getting upstairs.”

“We moved a bed downstairs.” You tell him, “you won’t be going upstairs for a while.” You escort him into the living room and help him settle down on the bed. He’s only wearing socks so he groans as he sits down and you help him lay on the bed. “You need to rest as much as possible. Let me get you some water. Are you hungry?” You ask, helping him settle against the pillows.

“Can you cook better than the shit they served at the hospital?” He grumbles, having not enjoyed the food there. He’s relieved to be home and his head hurts a little bit less today than before. He’s got a plate covering the fractured portion of his skull and they actually had to remove a large chunk of the bone.

You chuckle, “I like to think so. I’m glad your appetite is back. What do you feel like? I make a mean mac and cheese.” You adjust his pillow and Ellie comes to sit down next to him. “She’s a really good cook. Like really good. I’ve been helping make cheese and we even made a cake.” She tells Joel with wide eyes, shocked at how this place is like life in books she read.

“Sure.” Joel agrees, the little fissure of pain at the mention of a cake isn’t as rough as it might once have been. The last night she had been alive, Sarah had wanted a cake desperately for Joel’s birthday. “Make something the kid likes.” He suggests. “I eat anything.”

You smile, liking how he caters to Ellie, and you know that Ellie told the truth about the man she considers a father. “What do you want, sweetheart?” You ask her and she nods, “Mac and cheese.” You ask if she wants to help you while Joel gets settled in and Ellie follows you into the kitchen so you can get started on the food and you pour Joel a glass of water. “You want to take this to Joel?” You ask Ellie who takes the glass and takes it to her father figure.

Joel listens to the sound of people talking in the kitchen and it’s so strange. He can’t make out what’s being said, but he can hear voices. It’s almost unsettling that there is someone else in the safe, cozy home that he and Ellie have managed to carve out for themselves. Tommy told him that Abby, the girl who had attacked him, was the daughter of the doctor he had killed to save Ellie. His past sins were coming back to haunt him, but he doesn’t regret not letting the teen sacrifice herself for a lost cause.

Ellie comes back out to hand Joel the glass of water and he takes it, taking a sip. “Thanks, kid.” He says and she sits down at the edge of his bed. “I- I thought I was gonna lose you.” She whispers, her brown eyes meeting his, “I was scared.” She admits and Joel feels his chest tighten, tears stinging in his eyes. “But you didn’t. I survived and I ain’t going anywhere, kid.” He promises, reaching out to squeeze her hand with his free one. “She been looking after you?” He asks her, jerking his chin towards the kitchen. “Yeah. She’s been great. She cleaned this place up. Made sure I ate and showered and slept while worrying like fuck about you. She’s a good one.” Ellie says and Joel trusts her opinion. You hear what Ellie says from around the corner, some homemade chips in a bowl in your hand and you smile, liking that she trusts you. You carry the bowl in and set it down , “hope these are good. We fried them earlier today.” You say, looking between Ellie and Joel.

Joel’s brow raises and he nods. “Thanks.” It hurts to nod so he just sends you his thanks with his eyes. “For taking care of her and me now, I guess.” He sips the water and grunts when the cool liquid slides down his throat to quench his thirst. “I’m sorry for all the cursing I will be doing.” He warns you, knowing he’s never been a good patient.

You chuckle, “curse away. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.” You promise and make your way back into the kitchen to continue making dinner. It’s going to be a long path of recovery but you’re happy to help Joel get back on his feet.

****

“Shit.” Joel hisses as you help him into the downstairs bathroom to shower. “Do you, uh, I can help take off your pants.” You offer, cheeks burning as you try and help him shower for the first time since he left the hospital.

Joel isn’t a shy man, never has been, but the idea that you have to help him bathe like he is a helpless baby makes him burn with embarrassment. There’s not a goddamn thing he can do about it though, his body is still healing and he can’t get his head wet because of the stitches and staples. “Fuck.” He grunt, hoping he doesn’t really embarrass himself. The fact that he’s not gotten an erection since he’s woken up makes him wonder if something is wrong with that function. “Fuck, what the hell else am I going to do? Shower with my fuckin’ clothes on?”

You shake your head, “no. I- I have to help. I’m a nurse. I am a professional.” You tell him even though that doesn’t hold much weight in today’s world. “Let me help you.” You reach in to turn on the water to heat it up and you reach for Joel’s shirt. “Keep still.” You murmur, working the buttons open. He probably prefers t-shirts but the button down is required so he doesn’t jostle his head. He is still weak so he lets you push the shirt off of his shoulders. “Pants next.” You declare and hook your fingers in the sweatpants, dragging them down his legs and he’s naked under them so it's easier for him to use the bathroom. He steps out of them and you try not to appraise his naked form. He’s still healing but he’s gorgeous.

“Sorry.” He huffs, knowing that the last thing you want to do is to help an old man bathe, his still bruised body on display. Luckily, there were still medical supply devices like a chair to sit in the shower to make it easier for him, although he knows you will get wet helping him. His dormant cock twitches slightly and his eyes widen at the sensation.

You focus on looking after him and not on his body, which even though bruised, is still beautiful. You know your clothes will get soaked but that’s okay, you don’t want to strip off and make him uncomfortable so you step into the shower and help him sit down on the chair. “Temperature okay?” You ask and he nods. You grab the soap you made last week and hold it out. “You want to do it or shall I?” You ask, knowing you’ll need to wash his face so he doesn’t get his head wet.

He hates to admit that he’s so damn tired after getting into the shower, he just wants you to do it. Grunting, he shakes his head slightly and winces when he feels a little pain. “Just do it.” He tells you, not wanting this to become some kind of pissing match. “Feel like a damn baby.”

You nod, “I understand but this is the best thing for you, honey. You need to focus on healing. You nearly died so being showered isn’t the worst thing in the world.” You put it in perspective for him. You lather up your hands and work on washing his back. He groans and your stomach twists with forbidden arousal. He’s injured, recovering, you shouldn’t feel attracted to him.

“Does it hurt?” Your soft question is almost arousing, murmuring in his ear but he grunts. “No.” His voice comes out raspy and raw. “Feels good.” He’s still so damn sore and your hands on his skin feels like a massage. “It’s feeling really good.”

You continue working on washing him, mindful of his bruises. “Good.” You murmur, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” You say as you massage the soap into his black and blue back. “Tommy tried to find them but they were gone.” You reveal, “they are gone.”

“It’s my fault.” Joel murmurs quietly, closing his eyes and trying to forget the moment he had killed that doctor, but it plays behind his lids. “How could you deserve something like this?” You snort, but he sighs softly. “I killed her father.” He reveals. “He was a doctor, for the Fireflies. They believed Ellie was the answer to a cure.” He opens his eyes, frowning. “They were going to remove her brain.”

You gasp, your hands freezing on his back. "They - does she know?" You whisper and Joel shakes his head. "She can't." You declare, having gotten to know Ellie enough to know that she would sacrifice herself. He nods, "I can't - I lied to her. I can't lose her." He confesses and you rub his back, "you won't. Secret's safe with me." You promise, "you didn't deserve this, Joel. No one does. This world...it's cruel but we have our little piece of paradise here. We just gotta protect it."

Even though he knows it would never absolve him of his sins, your words are a balm to his spirit. Soothing him and making him relax even more. “It’s nice here.” He murmurs softly. “Sarah would love it here.”

Ellie had briefly discussed the daughter that Joel lost on Outbreak Day and you rub his shoulders, “we are lucky. Not QZ, not the Wild West. We are safe and our commune is thriving.” You hum, “Ellie is lucky to have you.” You murmur and he hisses when you press a little too hard, “I’m sorry.” You grab the rag and lather it up, “you, uh, want to wash your -” Your cheeks heat up at the thought and he takes the rag without a word.

Joel washes his groin quickly, gritting his teeth when his long neglected cock starts to stir from the simple touch and the smell of your soap. He has noticed it every time he gets your help to use the bathroom and he is now covered in it. “Help me.” He grunts, trying to push to his feet so he can wash his ass.

You wrap your arms under his armpits, helping him stand and he grunts as he washes his ass. When he’s done, you rinse him off and shut off the water, grabbing the towel around his waist. “You good?” You ask and he nods, “yeah. Just feel like a fucking baby.” You chuckle, “at least you don’t need breastfeeding.”

“Fuck.” He huffs and blurts out, “that would be more fun,” before he even realizes how inappropriate it would be. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He grunts, blushing slightly.

You snort and smile, “I think we are beyond apologies now, huh?” You say, knowing you’ve helped him to the bathroom and now helped him shower. “Let’s get you redressed and I’ll heat up the soup I made earlier for you.” You tell him and grab the clean clothes you set aside for him.

His bedroom is what used to be the downstairs office. It’s got some doors for privacy, but more often than not, they are kept open until he needs to change. It makes it easier. “I didn’t ask, how do you like that bed?” His bedroom upstairs had become yours since they had broken down the smaller bed from the third bedroom. Joel wouldn’t let you sleep on the couch, telling you he could piss in a bottle in the middle of the night if he needed to. You deserved to sleep in a real bed for helping him.

“It’s good. Nice and comfy. I have no complaints.” You tell him, knowing your roommate, Sandra, will be enjoying the peace and quiet on her own in your house. “I hope it’s comfortable here.” You help him pull the shirt over his head and you kneel down so he can step into the sweatpants.

“It’s a bed.” He’s going to be uncomfortable regardless of where he is because of how badly he had been beaten. The only reason he’s alive is because she had started swinging on other parts of his body besides the head. “I think I’ll appreciate it more when I can move without wanting to cry.”

“Not too long now. You’ve overcome the worst. You’ll get there in the end.” You promise him, “you’ll get better. Ellie needs you.” You pull the sweatpants up and stand up, patting his chest. “All clean.” You smile and guide him to sit on the bed. You swing his legs onto the bed and stand up, “I’ll go get your soup, Miller.”

He watches you go, his eyes dropping down to your ass, not for the first time either. This time though, there is a punch of lust that his body responds to. Making him grunt and reach down to adjust himself slightly. You are beautiful and now that he has spent time with you, he can see why Tommy called him a lucky bastard.

****

You spend eight weeks looking after Joel. Helping him bathe until he can manage himself, feeding him, making sure he has water. It’s your priority and you are so happy he’s recovering well. He can walk properly now and the bruises have faded. “You want some cake?” You ask Joel as he walks into the kitchen where Ellie is trying to lick the spoon of the jam you made to go in the sponge cake.

“God, yes.” Joel groans, the irony of cake not being lost on him. You have been positively spoiling him and Ellie and he hates to think about when you will leave. He’s getting better and it’s about time you go back to your own life. “Are we doing a shower tonight?” The stitches are out, but he still has staples and needs help in the shower.

You nod, “yes, sir. Gotta make sure you avoid a nasty infection. We don’t have any oral antibiotics left.” You sigh, knowing that even if someone found some, they’d be expired. You and Ellie put the cake together and you cut out a slice for each of you. Setting the plate down in front of Joel, you love the way he smiles at you. It’s been impossible to keep your affection for him at bay. You’ve fallen for him, knowing that you will have to return home at some point but the grumpy yet funny man has gotten into your heart.

“Thanks.” He sends you a grateful look and sets his elbows on the table as he waits for you to sit down. “It smells incredible. You seem to enjoy cooking, or is it just something you do because you know Ellie can’t?” He teases, making the teenager huff and roll her eyes. “It’s not like I’ve had a chance to learn, man.”

You giggle and nudge Ellie, “you’ve been learning. You’ll get there. No, I, uh, I love cooking. Always have.” You admit, “I missed it a lot when I was on the outside. Cooking rabbit on a fire isn’t quite the same as cooking in a warm kitchen.” You sigh, forking up a bite of the cake.

“Yeah, campfires are temperamental, and cooking on them is even worse.” He snorts. Ellie chuckles. “When you would let us have them.” Joel shrugs slightly. “It’s dangerous out there.” He reminds her. “Hell, it’s dangerous in here too, but it’s better than out there.” He glances towards the entryway where he had collapsed when Abby nearly beat him to death.

You notice his glance and you realize once again how close to death he was. “You’re here now. Hopefully you don’t have to go back out there anytime soon.” You reach out to squeeze Joel’s hand and he smiles at you, his fork in his other hand, “you are safe for now.”

You have been incredible, and it’s almost amazing to see how you have slipped past the shell of his heart, something that only Ellie has managed since Tess. It’s hard to believe Tess has been gone as long as she has, but Joel has been slowly trying to heal emotionally as he heals physically. Thoughts of you have crept into his waking hours, causing some embarrassing moments in the showers when he gets hard, or you wake him up from an erotic dream that features you.

****

“So, the doctor gave you the all clear. Just to be careful and not do too much.” You smile at Joel as you enter the living room after the doctor left. He had done a full assessment of Joel and called his surgery a miracle - the fact that he survived is a gift from God. Ellie is out visiting Dina and you sit down next to Joel on the sofa, “I guess I can get out of your hair now. You can have your bed back and I’ll go back to my place.” You finish softly, sad to be leaving him.

Joel wipes his hands on his sweatpants, still wearing them out of habit over the past few months. “You’re probably happy as hell to be getting away.” He snorts as he looks over at you and wonders how you have become even prettier than before. He’s crazy about you, how kind you are, how you have taken Ellie under your wing and how you never rebuke him for when he gets sad and introspective. You have helped so much and he hates that you are leaving. “Maybe I need to get the shit beat out of me again, make you stick around.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. "No need to do that. All you have to do is ask me to stay and I would." You confess and your eyes widen at the way you blurted that out. You close your mouth, turning your head to stare across the room, avoiding those dark brown eyes. "I'm sorry. I-" You begin but he interrupts you. "Stay." You turn your head to look at him again, "what? You - you want me to stay?" You ask, feeling breathless.

He rolls his eyes at your question and huffs. “Do you think that I’m getting hard every time you help me shower because getting clean turns me on?” He asks bluntly. “I’ve been trying to think about anything else but you, but nothing works.”

You stare at him in shock, “I- I can’t believe - I just thought you were horny because you couldn’t jerk off.” You snort and close your eyes for a second. “I think about you. All the time.” You admit, reaching for his hand, “I had a crush on you before I came to help.” You tell him honestly, “always thought you were handsome, but now that I know you? You’re - fuck, I love you.” You confess just as breathless as your prior revelation.

His own breath stops, caught in his chest as you confess your feelings. A year ago, hell - a few months ago, he would have been denying that you felt that way. Ignoring it or being unable to respond in kind because his world was still ground to a halt, but that had changed. You and Ellie, that attack, it had changed things and made him realize that even though he had lost so many, he still had those to live for. He lunges forward and presses his lips to yours. “Love you too.” He murmurs as you gasp.

You can’t believe he’s kissing you but you reach up to cup his cheek, pressing your lips back to his, and your heart is pounding in your chest. You shift closer, cupping his other cheek and you rest your forehead against his when you pull back, caressing his stubbled cheeks. “I love you, Miller.” You smile, unable to fathom that the man you’ve fallen for loves you too.

He's panting and his heart is beating wildly in his chest. Already turned on again and starting to tent his sweats and all you've done is shared one kiss. Reaching up, he caresses your neck and shoulder. "Are you sure? I'm fuckin' old, baby." He jokes. "And a little decrepit."

You shake your head, "you're not decrepit. Or too old. I love you, Joel. No matter what. Hell, if I can look after you like I have and still think you are sexy, you're good to go." You promise with a giggle, sliding your hands down to his chest. "And I haven't stopped thinking about you between my thighs. Inside of me." You confess in a hushed tone.

The kid is off with her friend and Joel groans quietly, having thought of nothing else for the past few days. "I don't know if I can perform worth a shit." He admits with a shake of his head. "Haven't cum since I woke up."

"I don't care. Just want to be close to you." You murmur, "don't care if you cum right away. I can ride you." You want to be close to him, to feel all of him. "I keep thinking about how you'd feel inside of me."

He's still in his downstairs bedroom and he nudges his nose against yours. "Close the doors." He rasps out, nodding towards the French doors that close off his makeshift space. "I don't want to tire myself out trying to get upstairs."

You stand up, hands shaky as you shut the doors and turn to face him. You take in the details of his face, his head shaved from his surgery so his hair is growing back patchy but he’s still so attractive. You reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and you swiftly remove your bra. Hooking your fingers in your leggings, you push them down along with your panties to stand naked in front of him. “I’ve seen yours, figured it’s only fair if you see mine.”

"It gets bigger." He jokes, aware that you have seen and politely ignored the times he's gotten hard from you helping him in the shower. "Fuck, you are beautiful." He praises breathlessly, eyes drinking in your body as he licks his lips. It's been a long goddamn time since he's been with someone, the last person was Tess, but he feels like he's about to bust if he doesn't touch you.

“So are you.” You respond as you walk towards him. “So brave. A fucking fighter.” You murmur, shifting to straddle him as he sits back on the bed. His hands immediately find your ass and you chuckle, knowing he’s watched it enough times. You cup his cheeks and lean in to kiss him, “wanna see if it gets bigger.” You joke, grinding down onto the tent in his sweats.

Joel groans, twitching underneath you and he knows he won’t have any problem performing. The problem might be that he doesn’t please you before he cums. His hand slides around your waist to dip between your thighs. Hissing when he finds you starting to get slick as he starts to slowly rub your clit.

“Oh God.” You pant, rocking down onto his hand. It’s been far too long since anyone touched you and you are whimpering at the way his thick fingers rub your bundle of nerves. You tilt your head back and he leans in to kiss along your neck, your fingers digging into his shoulder as you absorb every touch.

He groans as he learns your body. He and Tess had been comfortable, completely familiar with each other and what the other liked. The whimpers and groans rockets his arousal higher as you grind down against his fingers and he feels like he’s going to bust in his sweats. Turning his wrist, he presses his thumb against your clit and slides his fingers through your slick folds so he can press them inside you.

“I want to touch you.” You whimper and he shakes his head, “not yet. Otherwise this will be over sooner than you thought.” He grunts and you rock onto his thick fingers, stretching you out in the most delicious way. “Fuckkkk.” You exhale as he presses his finger against that spongy spot inside of you. He’s good. He knows what he’s doing.

He loves the way you respond to him, how wet you get. Sliding his hand up and down your back as he kisses along your shoulder and down to your tit. Wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your wet heat.

“Shit.” You hiss, caressing his head as he suckles on your nipple like he’s trying to root. It has you quivering and you’re so close. So many nights of imagining how he’d touch you has led to you getting worked up faster than you have ever known. “Joel. Oh God, Joel. You’re gonna make me - I’m gonna-” You don’t finish your cry as you cut yourself off with a strangler choke and clamp down on his digits, soaking them with your cum.

“That’s it, fuck, good girl.” Joel pants against your breast as he pumps his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm. “You’re so goddamn good to me, ain’t ya? You creamin’ all over my fingers, making me harder than a fucking rock.” He coos praises into your skin, enjoying the way your nails bite into his shoulder through the shirt. Your pretty cunt soaked his fingers and he can only imagine how good you will feel around his cock.

His words make you choke on your breath as he works you through your orgasm. You never imagined he’d be so dirty but you love it. “Fuck, baby. Yes. I need - I need you inside of me but I want to suck your cock.” You whine, reaching down to tug on the hem of his shirt, wanting him naked beneath you.

“You can’t.” Joel moans, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t last a minute. And I want to feel you, fuck, imagined it so many times.” He pants, pulling away from the back of the bed so you can pull his shirt off. “Maybe- later, if I can get it up again.” He chuckles.

You pull his shirt over his head, still mindful of his injuries, and you slide your hands down his chest, admiring his broadness. “You’re so sexy.” You murmur, reaching down to pull his cock out of his sweatpants, wanting to see him in this light. You’ve seen his cock plenty of times but now you know he’s hard for you and it’s intoxicating. You pump him and he groans out a warning so you shift to lift your hips, positioning him at your entrance and you slowly sink down onto him.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” His hands grip your hips harshly and he clenches his jaw as you take him. You are hot and tight like a glove around his cock, clenching around him as your walls flutter. Your ass presses against his thighs and he rocks his hips up. “Fuck, that’s - fuck, gimme a minute.” He begs, feeling like he’s about to cum. “Let me- calm down.”

You nod, stilling on top of him, and you caress his chest. He exhales shakily and you lean in to kiss him, “take your time, baby. I’m in no rush.” You promise and kiss along his jaw, loving how he stretches you out.

It’s been so long since he’s felt this close to anyone, your breath blows against his skin and he shivers. Closing his eyes as he holds you still. “Fuck, I love you.” He murmurs quietly, aware that this is something that he shouldn’t even have, he should have died. But he’s here and he’s going to live for the moment and bask in the forgiveness of your touch.

You close your eyes at his words, loving how he caresses you, and you tilt your head to look at him. “I love you too. You’re so much more than you think you are.” You murmur, caressing his cheek, and you experimentally rock your hips. His groan makes your stomach clench and you rock again, starting slow as he moves inside of you.

“Shit.” He hisses quietly, opening his eyes to watch as you start to move. “You’re so pretty, so fuckin’ pretty.” He promises as he starts to slide his hands up and down your back. “You feel so good, does it feel good for you?”

His words make your heart pound in your chest and you nod, “feels so good. You feel so damn big inside of me.” You confess breathlessly, “stretching me out. It’s been so long since I had sex. You need to- to pull out so tell me if you’re close.” You remind him, not wanting an accidental pregnancy right now.

Joel grunts, looking into your eyes as he nods. “I will.” He promises. Safe sex isn’t really a thing to be had but hopefully there’s not something to come of this. You are right to remind him. “I’m good baby, ride me.”

You take his word and start to move faster. Your hands gripping his shoulders as you start to move on top of him, moaning at the way he twitches inside of you. "Fuck, you feel so good." You pant, chest heaving as his cock curves just right inside of you.

Joel grunts and leans forward to press his lips to yours, biting your bottom lip after he kisses you. Your breasts brush against his chest and he pulls you closer, craving the feel of your skin against his.

You moan into his mouth, loving how strong her feels, how he’s recovered and he’s stronger for it mentally. You rock down onto his cock, loving the way he twitches inside of you, and you are getting close. Just the feel of having the man you love inside of you is pushing you higher. “Oh shit.” You whimper when you find the right spot and you reach down to rub your clit, pushing yourself closer to the edge.

“That’s it pretty girl, making yourself cum.” Joel groans, watching you touch yourself with dark eyes. It’s so sexy and he can’t get enough of it. “Make yourself cum on my cock. I want to feel it, see it. Show me what you look like.”

You nod, mouth open as you work yourself higher until you finally fall over the edge. A cry escapes your lips as you cum, moaning his name and you clamp down on his cock, soaking him while your orgasm rocks through you.

His eyes roll back in pleasure as he feels you squeezing him and he knows he will be cumming any second. “Sweethea-rt, you gotta-“ he grits his teeth as he jerks your body up off his cock so he can keep his promise to you, panting as he spurts all over his stomach and chest.

You watch him as he cums and you love it. The way he looks is intoxicating and you lean in to kiss him. “Fuck, I love you.” You murmur, leaning in to kiss him as he pants your name.

He kisses you back eagerly, reaching for his shirt to wipe away the mess so you can lean against him. “Fuck, that was- I can’t even-“ he chuckles quietly and kisses you again. “What do you think about moving in permanently?”

You smile as he looks at you, his dark eyes soft, and you cup his cheeks. “Yes. Absolutely.” Your smile turns into a grin, excited to explore this next step with Joel. “I was dreading going home and I would miss you and Ellie like crazy.” You confess, “I want to stay.”

“Good.” He pauses for a moment and then he admits, “it’s felt like a proper home with you here. Ellie, she loves you too.” He tells you softly. “I think she imagines we are a family.”

“I imagine that too. She’s like a daughter to me.” You confess, “I want to make this a home and I want to be yours. Be in your bed every night. Be by your side no matter what.” You promise and Joel smiles, cupping your cheek, “sounds amazing, baby.”

****

“Joel.” You say his name as he takes a sip of whiskey. Ellie is watching a movie with the other kids in the barn and you decided to cook a romantic dinner for Joel, wanting to ask him something. He looks at you and you tilt your head, appraising him. You pick up your glass and take a sip, your throat suddenly dry. “Everything okay, baby?” He asks and you nod, squaring your shoulders. “I want a baby.” You announce, bracing yourself for him to say no.

Joel freezes, waiting for the familiar ache to take over his chest. For this vision to blur and his breathing to turn into short bursts as thoughts of Sarah take over. As the sounds of her rapid, panicked last breaths fill his ears. It never comes.

He doesn’t panic at the thought of having a child that could remind him of Sarah. Ellie does in some ways, but she’s a completely different type of girl. One raised in the world outside the safety of the walls of Jackson. If you had a child here, they would be innocent in some ways Ellie was not, more like Sarah. “A baby, huh?” He murmurs after a moment. “With me?” He asks. “I’m nearly sixty, baby. You want that?”

You sense his hesitation and you feel like backtracking but you think about the nights you’ve spent awake pondering this, weighing the pros and cons of having his baby in this world. You reach for his hand, “I know and I still want it. Spending time with Ellie, helping with your nephew, it’s made me realize that I can do it. It’s hard, always hard being a mother, but I’m ready and I want a baby. I want a baby that will carry our legacy, a baby that will grow up safe and capable. We will make sure of it. Unless you don’t want that, which is - it’s fine. I’ll handle your decision. We both have to want this, Joel. Not just me. Don’t do it for me. I want you to want this too and if you don’t, then that’s case closed.” You promise, not wanting to pressure him.

Joel squeezes your hand gently, reminded of the nights he had woken in a cold sweat, sometimes from the broken memories of him being attacked or the memory of losing Sarah. You have been right beside him, offering him comfort and solace. He’s told you about that night, sharing with you memories that he has kept bottled for over twenty years. You had cried in his arms like you had been Sarah’s mother, assuring him that he had done everything right to try to protect his baby girl. The fact that he’s not immediately said no is very insightful and he bites his lip and watches you with a softness that even a year ago, he was unsure he was capable of. “It’s been a looooong time since 2 AM feedings and my hearing is shot.” He snorts, smiling slightly. “You’ll have to poke me to wake me up if you want me to get up with a baby.”

You smile, loving the way he has agreed to having a baby with you. “You’re forgetting the best part about deciding to have a baby….” You trail off and smirk, “the trying.” He returns your smirk and you giggle, standing up from your seat and you round the table to sit in his lap. “I love you.” You murmur when you’re settled in his lap, reaching up to caress his cheek. “I want you to fuck a baby into me, Joel.”

“Fuck, that’s hotter than I ever imagined.” Joel grunts, twitching underneath you. His sex drive isn’t completely on par with yours, but he keeps up and keeps you satisfied in other ways. You’ve told him you don’t regret being with him at all. Which is another balm on his battered soul. “You want me to cum in that pretty pussy?” He asks, squeezing your ass. “Imagined how you would look dripping me a few times.”

You moan, kissing along his jaw as his words wash over you. “I want you to cum inside of me. Put a baby in me.” You plead, wiggling on his lap. His hair has grown back now, more gray in it, but you love it, and you reach up to run your fingers through his hair.

He groans and captures your lips with his, licking into your mouth immediately as the easy passion blooms between you. His hands move to start stripping you down.

It doesn’t take long for you and Joel to be naked. You stumbled up the stairs to your bedroom, clothes scattered on the trail upstairs and when you lay down on the bed, Joel is immediately hovering over you. Your heart is pounding in your chest and his hand slides along your thigh, cupping your pussy. “I don’t want foreplay. I just want you. Want to feel all of you.” You murmur, caressing his shoulders.

There are times when you want the burn of his cock stretching you out and tonight is one of those nights it seems. That’s good because Joel is impatient to get inside you. He takes his cock in hand and pumps it a few times as he shuffles forward to press against your entrance. “I love you.” He murmurs.

He pushes inside of you, stretching you out, and you gasp out “love you too.” He pushes inside of you until he’s fully seated and you take a deep breath, enjoying the weight of his body on top of yours and the weight of the moment. Deciding to take this step together has your body primed and ready for him. He starts to move inside of you and you wrap your legs around his waist, moaning at the way he rocks into you.

Nearly dying hadn’t had the lasting effects that the doctors had feared when Joel had been brought in. His thrusts are steady, if not a little harder than normal, although he keeps the pace sedate. Not rushing, but he enjoys burying himself as deep as he can go and watching your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Gonna knock you up.” He grunts out.

His words make you clench around him, your hands sliding down his back to squeeze his ass. His recovery has been a miracle from the man who was on death's door to the man currently making love to you trying to get you pregnant. You whimper when his lips find your neck and you rock your hips up to try and meet his.

Every time the two of you come together, Joel remembers how lucky he is. His kisses trail along your throat as he groans into your skin. Both of you give and take from each other. “Fuck, baby.” Joel moans, his body tensing when you clench down around him again. “You gonna cum before I fill you up? Love it when you soak my cock.”

You nod, "yes baby. I - shit - you always feel so good." You slide one hand down between you so you can rub your clit. He immediately bats your hand away after shifting his weight onto one elbow. You moan when he rubs your clit just right, his hips pushing into your ass as you take him deep inside of you. "Shit. Joel. You - I'm - God." You cry out as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him.

“That’s it, good girl, goooooood girl.” Joel moans, clenching his teeth as you come apart around him. He feels his own body is ready to cum, excited by the situation and it only takes a few more thrusts. Instead of pulling his hips back, he plunges them forward, embedding himself deep as he paints your womb with his seed. “Fuck, fuck.” He pants, closing his eyes as he rides out his orgasm, amazed at how good it feels. “You’ll be pregnant in no time.”

You smile against his lips when he leans in to kiss you and you’re so hopeful for the future with Joel. A baby that looks like the two of you combined. You are excited and when he pulls out, you keep his cum inside of you, trying to make sure that it takes. You’ll be pregnant in no time.

****

“Sweetheart….I’m supposed to go ride the southern border and check the area.” You’ve quieted down over the past few hours, but he can still see the sadness lurking in your eyes. You’ve stopped blaming yourself but he knows those thoughts are bouncing around and he’s reluctant to leave you. “Do you want me to have Tommy go? Stay here with you?”

You shake your head, eyes sore from crying, “no baby. Just go. I’ll be fine. Ellie will be back soon.” You murmur, keeping your back turned towards him. You feel useless, you feel broken, and you feel exhausted. You’ve tried so hard to get pregnant. You even researched old wives tales about how to get pregnant. You’ve taken herbs, teas, anything you can to get pregnant and after trying for so long, you’re exhausted.

He worries about you, leaning over and pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’ll be back as quickly as possible and I’ll make dinner tonight.” He offers. It’s the historical Mother’s Day today, and he knows you will be extra glum since you are once again not pregnant. Sometimes he wonders if he should just tell you that he’s changed his mind, taking the guilt and worry about it off your shoulders. You can blame him for not having a child. “Okay?”

“Sure.” You murmur, closing your eyes as a cramp contracts in your stomach, making you curl into a ball. You really thought this was it. Your period was two weeks late and you didn’t tell Joel because you wanted to surprise him and then you got your period. You sniff and Joel sighs, shuffling out of the bed to get ready for his shift. You can’t blame him. He’s had a kid. It’s got to be you that’s the issue.

He’ll look for some wildflowers for you while he’s out. They always make you smile and tonight, he will do his best to make sure that you know that no matter what, he loves you. He thinks about all this while he puts his clothes on and brushes his teeth, coming out of the bathroom to find you still curled up. “Go soak in a hot bath, baby.” He suggests, walking over to the bed and kissing your cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

You listen to him go and you know it's technically Mother's Day today. Salt in the wound. You swallow harshly and wait until the front door closes before you allow yourself to sob again. You can't believe you aren't pregnant. You've tried so hard. Maybe you aren't meant to be a mother.

Saddling the horse and getting let out of the gates of Jackson has Joel on autopilot. Most often the scouting parties are in groups, but today had been just singles, most men in the community wanting to spend time with their wives and celebrate them. The grass is green and lush; there's a certain beauty to the mild spring transitioning into warmer weather. Urging the horse forward, he is eager to finish the patrol so he can get back to you.

You have your bath, eyes sore from sobbing, and you try to come to terms that you’re never going to be a mother. It’s just not in the cards. You love Ellie and you think of her as your daughter but you wanted a baby, a combination of you and Joel to love and care for in this new world. That isn’t going to happen and you curl around yourself in bed after you’re dry, trying to cope with that fact.

Pulling the reins, Joel listens carefully, certain that he has just heard a cry. His hand goes to his rifle to pull it off his shoulder. Wary of traps or ruses to draw unsuspecting people in, he scans the area. Silence lingers long enough until he’s almost convinced he was hearing things when there’s another, louder cry. A baby. His eyes widen and he nudges the horse forward again. “Hello?” He cups his hand and calls out, wondering if there is a group traveling nearby. There must be, if there is a baby. Mountain lions and things that can sound like a baby crying are farther up in the mountains. Instead of the sound quieting, the crying turns into screaming, giving him a direction to head towards. Joel keeps his rifle up and guides the horse with his knees when he almost stumbles upon the scene.

“Shit!” There’s a woman lying on the ground, face down with a carrier on her back, a small baby - no more than three or four months old - screaming from the restraints. He scans the areas again, looking for a trap, but there’s nothing moving. The baby's howls prompts him to dismount and move towards the woman, his rifle pointed at her until he reaches them and nudges her with his boot. Wondering if she’s been changed and cannot get to the baby, although he’s never seen one go dormant with a human around and making noise. “Hey…” prodding her doesn’t make her move and Joel scans the area again, the open range not a good spot to plan an ambush, but someone could be hiding in the tall grass. Carefully kneeling down, he grabs a bony thin shoulder and turns the woman enough to see that her gaunt face and shrunken eyes are lifeless. “Shit.” He hisses, looking back at the baby who is almost as bad as the mother. From what it looks like, this poor woman had been traveling to find shelter, food, anything for her and her baby and she collapsed less than two miles from salvation.

Joel sighs as he sets the rifle down and rolls the body on its side. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs quietly, his heart clenching at the reality of the situation, reaching out to close the woman’s eyes before unbuckling the strap for the carrier that is across her chest.

Ellie returns before Joel does and you offer her a smile as she says hello. “I, uh, I made you something.” She says, handing you a piece of paper. It’s a card. “Happy Mother’s Day” it says and your heart clenches. A genuine smile on your face as you realize she made this for you. You open it and tears sting in your eyes as you read her scrawled handwriting. “Thank you for being the mom I never had.” She wrote and you choke, reaching for her. “I love you so much sweetheart.” You pull her close, reminded that you have a beautiful daughter who loves you. “I love you too.” She murmurs, holding you just as tight. The front door opens and you pull back as you hear a baby crying. “Joel?” You gasp when your partner walks into the kitchen.

“Ellie….go to Tommy’s and get a bottle.” He orders the teenager as he starts to pull the baby carrier off his own chest to take the baby out. He had brought the body back, but this baby needed milk as soon as he could get it for her. “I found her,” he explains. “A woman collapsed two miles away from Jackson, she starved to death.” He motions you over. “At least, I think it’s a girl.”

Your eyes widen as he cradles the baby and you reach out to take them into your arms. The baby’s diaper is dirty and you shush them as you walk over to grab an old dish towel from the drawer as a makeshift diaper. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” You coo, unwrapping the baby on the kitchen table and you tell Joel to get a wet cloth. You work on cleaning up the baby, “it’s a girl.” You announce and wrap her in the dishtowel, using the pin from her old diaper. “It’s okay sweetheart. You’re okay, sweet girl. You’re safe and we are going to get you milk.” You promise, cradling her as you turn back towards Joel. “Her poor mother. So close to salvation.” You sigh, shaking your head at the tragedy.

“I brought her back.” Joel tells you quietly, watching as you bounce the baby girl in your arms and coo at her to calm her down. “Hoping something in her bag would tell us where she’s from, what the baby’s name is.” He sighs softly. “I couldn’t leave her out there.”

“Her mother deserves a service, a burial. We must give this little one a place to visit her mother.” You murmur, stroking her cheek. She’s gorgeous, her eyes watching you, and you try to not get too attached to her, knowing that Maria and Tommy will be handling the situation.

Ellie comes bursting into the house. “Got a bottle!” She yells, thundering down the hall to rush into the kitchen. “Tommy and Maria are coming too.” She pants, quickly handing the full bottle of milk to you. The baby is obviously hungry because the second that you brush the nipple against her mouth, she shakes her little head furiously as she tries to get it in her mouth, crying out before the nipple is in and immediately starting to suckle hungrily with great, greedy gulps.

“We will need more. Tommy and Maria have everything for a baby. We - they should take her.” You murmur, knowing it will be hard to hand the baby over but she isn’t yours and the leader needs to make a decision on her placement.

Joel takes one look at the way you hold this baby while she’s eating and knows that’s not what needs to happen. This baby is your chance to be a mother, to feel like a mother. It’s like it was fate for him to be out there and find her today, to bring her to you. “I think we should keep her.” Joel tells you, coming up and laying his hand on your shoulder. “Tommy and Maria have a lot on their plate with one baby already.”

Your eyes widen as you look at him then back at the baby. “We - us - are you - Joel.” You whisper, a soft smile on your face as you dare to hope that you can keep the little girl. It feels wrong. Her mother just died, but she can’t be left alone. She needs someone to look after her.

The front door opens. “Joel?” Tommy’s voice floats through the house and Joel keeps looking at you with the baby. “In the kitchen.” He calls out. The guards at the gates had kept his horse with the poor woman’s body and he had known Tommy and Maria would come to find out what the hell happened, but he wanted to get the baby here first. Footsteps quickly sound out, two sets of them like he expected and the baby is still greedily sucking away at the milk when his brother and sister in law come into the kitchen.

You look up as Maria walks in, her baby strapped to her chest, and she immediately comes over to see the baby in your arms. “Oh, she’s a sweet little thing. She needs fattening up. Poor girl, her mom was so close to our gates. She needs a mother. You should be her mother.” She says and you stare at her, “are you sure?” Maria smiles, stroking the head of her son. “She needs a mother and you are a more than capable applicant.” She gestures to the way you’re holding the baby. “I- I know this sounds insane but I feel like this is my purpose.” You murmur, looking down at her as she suckles.

Tommy smirks at Joel, who is obviously relieved by the decision. He’s talked to Tommy about the issues you’ve had trying to conceive and wished that there was some way for you to figure out what was wrong, but there just aren’t the medical resources here in Jackson. Joel had even been thinking about trying one of the universities, but couldn’t risk it again. “We both feel that way.”

You smile, cooing at the baby. “Did we find out what her name is?” You ask and Tommy nods, holding up a note that was in the mother’s satchel. “Her name is Hope.” Tommy reveals and you smile, “Hope.” You murmur, pulling the bottle away when she’s done. You shift her to your shoulder to burp her and you cradle her once she’s burped. “She’s our hope.” You declare as you look at Joel and he comes over to wrap his arm around you, looking down at the baby. “Our new daughter.” Joel murmurs, kissing your hair and he beckons Ellie over. “She’s kinda cute.” Ellie says and leans in to stare at the baby. “Hi Hope. I’m Ellie. Your big sister. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Especially about our grumpy dad.” She jokes and Joel chuckles and rolls his eyes. “We will gather everything you’ll need and we will make sure her mother has a proper burial. For now, you guys settle in as a family.” Maria says, stepping back towards Tommy. “Oh and Happy Mother’s Day.” Maria says to you and you smile, “you too.” You may not be able to have a biological baby but you have Ellie and you have Hope. The two girls who have made you a mother.

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