#i need nurse darlin like air

[propertyofsamcollins]

omg omg nurse darlin who tells the kids jokes and tales while their going through rough treatment

nurse darlin who gets a million thank you and holiday cards from their kids

nurse darlin who shifts for kids who need a little extra comfort

nurse darlin who makes sure their teenage patients are heard because they deserve soft care too

nurse darlin who never needs to have children because they have their own kids to take care of

nurse darlin who brings sam in because the kids love his accent and cowboy aesthetic

just. nurse darlin. :')

I am so sorry for not answering this sooner but oh my god Samuel Collins coming in and cheering up kids by acting like a cowboy. He doesn't like being referred to as one just because he's southern but he'll push all that aside for these kids SOBBING

DARLIN WITH THE TEENAGE PATIENTS. These teens have been spoken over, treated like they need no help ar all because they're not kids, and being infantalized for being in a hospital. But darlin makes sure these kids get the help they need. Making sure parents listen and being soft with them, especially the "tough" and "roughed up" ones that remind them of themself.

NURSE DARLIN SHIFTING FOR THE KIDS OH GOD IM GONNA LOSE IT

I love them so much

[reidsworld]

A Different Kind of Training

Summary: When sparring with Logan turns into something more.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: sparring, cursing, mentions of alcohol, teasing, flirting, kissing, making out, tit sucking, fingering, heavy petting, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, knife play? (the claws come out), use of Y/N, pet names (baby, bub, darlin’) — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!

Word Count: 2.8k

Mars speaks… Two fics in one day? What can I say, I’m a sucker for writing (and Logan Howlett). I originally wasn’t gonna write smut for this but I locked in and nearly 1.4k words of smut later, I’m happy with how it turned out! I was imagining Logan in X-Men but this gif is too hot not to use.

Masterlist

The sun was setting over Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, casting a warm, golden light through the large windows of the gym. The usual buzz of activity had quieted down, leaving you alone to get in some extra training. The silence was almost calming, a rare moment of peace after everything that had happened over the past few days.

You were lost in your thoughts, practising your kicks against a heavy bag, when the door creaked open. Without needing to look, you knew who it was. There was only one person who could move so silently yet make his presence known so effortlessly.

“Looks like someone’s been working hard,” Logan’s gruff voice came from behind you, a teasing edge to it. You could practically hear the smirk in his tone.

You turned, arching an eyebrow as you met his gaze. “Just trying to stay sharp. Didn’t expect you to drop in. Thought you’d be nursing a beer somewhere.”

He shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Beer can wait. Figured you could use some real training instead of beating up that bag.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, so you’re volunteering to be my punching bag?”

Logan pushed off the wall and strolled toward you, his movements fluid and controlled. There was always something captivating about the way he moved—like a predator, always aware of his surroundings, always ready to strike.

“Something like that,” he said, his voice low as he came to a stop a few feet from you. “If you think you can handle it, bub.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at your lips. “Big words, Wolverine. Hope you can back them up.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The session began as it always did—circling each other, testing the waters with light jabs and quick footwork. But there was an underlying tension tonight, more than usual. Maybe it was the way Logan’s eyes kept straying to your lips, or the way your heart raced every time he got close.

“You’re getting slow, old man,” you teased as you dodged a punch and spun away, landing a light tap on his shoulder.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk. “And you’re getting cocky. Might have to teach you a lesson.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you both just stood there, staring at each other. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, you both lunged forward, fists flying in a blur of motion.

The sparring intensified, the lighthearted banter replaced by focused determination. But even as you fought, there was a spark of playfulness, a dance of words and movements that only the two of you shared.

“Is that all you’ve got, bub?” Logan grunted as he blocked a kick and spun you around, his grip on your arm firm but not painful.

You twisted out of his hold, a sly smile on your lips. “Wouldn’t want to hurt your ego too much, Wolvie.”

His laughter was low and genuine, and it made something warm unfurl in your chest. Logan was a hard man, but moments like these—when he let his guard down, even just a little—made you feel like you were seeing the real him. The one beneath all the gruff exterior and adamantium claws.

As the session continued, you found yourself pushing harder, testing his limits just as much as your own. Each time he got close, you felt the heat of his body, the brush of his skin against yours, and it was becoming harder to focus on the fight and not on how much you wanted him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of back-and-forth, you saw your opening. With a quick feint, you managed to sweep Logan’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the mat with a surprised grunt.

You didn’t waste a second, straddling him and pinning him down with a triumphant grin. “Looks like I’ve got you.”

Logan looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Seems so. What’s your plan now, darlin’?”

The way he said “darlin’” sent a jolt through you, and suddenly the playful atmosphere shifted into something heavier, more charged. You leaned in closer, your faces just inches apart, your breath mingling with his.

“Maybe I’ll make you beg for mercy,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing.

Logan’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. “Or maybe I’ll turn the tables on you.”

The challenge in his voice was clear, and you felt your pulse quicken in response. But before you could think of a retort, Logan’s grip tightened, and with a swift, effortless movement, he flipped you over, reversing your positions so that he was the one hovering over you.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly, but his eyes were soft as they searched your face. He wasn’t pinning you down, not really—there was still room for you to escape, but neither of you made a move to do so.

The tension between you was palpable now, crackling in the air like electricity. Logan’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if asking permission. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest, but you gave a small nod, unable to find your voice.

That was all the encouragement Logan needed. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as fierce as it was gentle. It was like everything that had been building between you two—the banter, the flirting, the unspoken tension—was pouring out into that one kiss.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, lost in each other.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other’s. Logan’s eyes were still closed, his grip on your hip gentle but firm as if he didn’t want to let you go, while his other hand was on the floor, positioned next to your head.

He leaned down to lay passionate but gentle kisses against your neck.

You bit your lip, suppressing the almost vile moan that was on the tip of your tongue, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I’ve been waiting for you to make the first move.”

Logan chuckled, raising his head to look at you. “Guess I’m not as patient as I thought.”

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing the lines of his face. “Guess not.”

The mood between you had shifted, the playful teasing giving way to something deeper, something more intimate. You felt a connection with Logan that you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully acknowledge before, and now that it was out in the open, it felt right.

“So, what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s eyes darkened with a new intensity, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “How about we take this workout somewhere more private? I’ve got a few ideas on how to… optimise our training.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the suggestive tone in his voice. “Lead the way,” you murmured, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Logan smirked, pulling back just enough to help you to your feet. But before you could move, he captured your lips in another heated kiss, this one more urgent, more demanding. It left you breathless, your knees weak as you clung to him for support.

When he finally released you, there was a hunger in his eyes that mirrored your own. Without another word, he took your hand and led you out of the gym, his pace quick and determined. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped outside, but you barely noticed, too focused on the man beside you.

Logan’s room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. The air was filled with a quiet intensity as you both entered, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

Logan’s gaze was fixed on you, his eyes dark with an unspoken promise. He stepped closer, his rough hands finding your waist, pulling you gently towards him. The world outside seemed to fade away as you stood there, the anticipation crackling between you.

You looked up at him, your heart racing, as his hands slid up your back, his touch both firm and tender. “So, this is your idea of a private training session?” you teased, your voice breathless.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Just thought we could continue our workout in a more…personal setting.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s lips were on yours, his kiss fierce and hungry. The sudden intensity took your breath away, but you melted into it, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping him as you kissed him back with equal fervour.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as if he wanted to absorb every inch of you. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as you both lost yourselves in the sensation. The roughness of his hands contrasted with the softness of your skin, creating a delicious tension that only heightened the experience.

Logan’s lips were warm and insistent, moving with a rhythm that made your pulse quicken. He gently pushed you against the wall, his body pressing against yours, the heat and strength of him undeniable. You responded eagerly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips moving in perfect harmony with his.

The kiss was a dance of passion and exploration, each touch and caress filled with a mix of tenderness and desire. Logan’s hands slid down to your hips, his grip strong and possessive as he pressed you closer against him. You could feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his muscles, and it only made you want him more.

“Jump,” Logan said, though it sounded more like a grunt than actual words. As you jump, his arms catch you, holding you by both of your legs as your hands threaded through his hair. You could feel him straining against his pants while he walked you over to the bed. You looked up at him with a smirk from where he tossed you on the bed. You slowly begin to undress, leaving you bare in front of him with the exception of your bra and panties.

“Stunning,” He muttered under his breath as he stared at you in a trance. His hand travelled down to his aching bulge, palming himself at the sight of you.

“Just gonna stand there and stare or are ya gonna do something, Wolvie.”

He let out an almost animalistic growl as he climbed on top of you, capturing your lips with his. His rough hands hands felt smooth against your skin as they travelled across your body. He pulls away from you, looking at his hands as his claws come out. He gently slides a claw under your bra, snapping it, freeing your breasts.

His claws retract and discard the bra across the room. His head quickly dives down to your tits, mouth latching onto one of your hard nipples as his hand kneads at the neglected breast. A yelp escapes your lips as he gently bites down on your nipple.

Your hands twine themselves in his hard, tugging gently as he moves his attention to your other breast. As he focuses on your breast, he shifts so that his elbow is holding him up while playing with your breast. His free hand slides down your body, slipping into your panties.

His fingers brush over your clit, making you let out a very solicited moan. His fingers run up your slit, making him groan.

“Fuck, you're already so wet and I’ve barely done anything yet, bub,” you let out an almost pathetic whimper in response. You feel him rut against your leg, attempting to get some much-needed relief. One of your hands leaves his hair and moves to push off his pants before planning him through his underwear, earning a groan from his lips.

You gasp as you feel one of his thick fingers enter you, pumping and curling in and out. It feels so good, all you can do is moan out his name. Looking into your eyes, he pulls you into a kiss as another finger slips into you. He swallows your moan with his mouth.

“Logan, ‘m so close baby,” you moan into his lips before whimpering at the loss of contact as his hand pulls your of you.

“Need to be inside you, want you to cum around my cock, darlin’” he says making you nod quickly, pulling your hand away from his groin.

He stands up, pulling off his boxers. As his cock frees, it slaps against his stomach and you almost whimper at the sheer size of it. His claws slowly extend out of his fist. He crawls back on top of you before using one of his claws to gently rip off your panties.

He positions himself at your entrance and looks up at you for approval.

“Please Logan just fuck me already.”

Gently and slowly, he pushes himself inside of you. His head falls back at the feeling of you around him. You wince at the slight sting from the size of him. He slows down and looks at you. You nod at him and moan as he bottoms out.

The two of you stay still for a minute as you adjust to him.

“Ok, you can move now, Lo.”

“How d’ya want it darlin’?” his raspy voice sounds out, making you even wetter.

“Rough baby, I thought this was supposed to be private training not–,” you tease him but are quickly cut off by your own moan as he roughly pulls out to the tip before slamming back in. His hands grip your legs, pulling them over his shoulder before moving to tightly grip the pillows next to your head. Your arms move up my your head, loosely wrapping around his.

The room is filled with loud moans and grunts as he fucks you. One of his hands moves down to circle your clit, making you cry out at the feeling. He drops one of your legs off his shoulder, changing the angle slightly.

“Oh fuck, right there!” you scream out as he pistons into your sweet spot. He throws his head back with a loud growl as your pussy clenches around him.

“Holy shit bub, so fuckin’ tight, wrapping around me just right.”

You hear the loud noise of his claws right next to your head as they extend into the bed. He uses them to give him more leverage as he fucks you harder, making you arch your back.

“‘M so close baby,” you moan into his ear as his head drops to your neck.

He doesn’t give up his relentless pace as he brings you closer to your orgasm. The sounds of his feral grunts in your ear throw you over the mess, making you scream as your insides tighten and you cum around his cock.

“Almost there,” he says as his thrusts become sloppier and his dick twitches inside of you.

“Where d’ya want it?”

“Inside, please,” you say, desperately.

Logan moves to kiss your tender lips roughly as he cums in you with a loud groan. His thrusts slow down before he comes to a stop. He drops on top of you with heavy breaths as you both lie there in silence.

Slowly pulling out of you, Logan rolls onto his back next to you before you both turn your heads to look at each other. He grins at your fucked-out expression.

“That was even better than I imagined,” he admits.

“Same,” you agree as you lean over to kiss him, smiling against his lips and muttering as you pull away,

“This was definitely a different kind of training, but I think that I still need a little more work on my form, think ya could help?”

Mars speaks... (again) I don't think I've ever locked in more than I did for writing the smut part of this. Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

[cap-winter-barnes]

Kiss Me Lieutenant (Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader)

It's not often that you find yourself out drinking with friends on a Thursday night, but your week at work has been a stressful one. One angry customer after another has you in need of a drink, or a few. After convincing your friends that a night on the town is what you need, you find yourself three drinks deep at The Hard Deck.

You're not a stranger to the company of Top Gun personnel during your evenings of socialising, but tonight you're only interested in drowning your sour mood with alcohol. Forget the men who always vie for your attention tonight, they're never successful in their attempts anyway.

Nursing a cocktail, you stand with a hip leaning into the bar, deep in conversation with your girlfriends. The topic of work off limits. Yet you can't help but keep diverting your eyes to that of the handsome Lieutenant across the room. Everything about his exudes masculinity and you can't help but be drawn to not only the gorgeous smile on his face, but how nicely fitting his uniform is on his body. God, you're such a perv when you've had a drink or two.

"Earth to Y/N!" You're snapped out of your ogling by the voice of your best friend finally reaching your eyes. "My God, just go and talk to the guy!" All of you chuckle before you down the last dregs of your drink.

"Fine, I just might." They both protest, trying to stop you in your tracks, albeit futile, as you make a beeline for the one and only, Jake Seresin. In his peripheral, Jake spots you making your way over to him, pool cue in hand, he stands up straight, a cocky smirk on his face.

"And what do I owe the pleasure, ma'am?"

"Kiss me, Lieutenant!"

Without a seconds thought, Jake welcomes you into his body as you press your lips to his. Your hands snaking around his neck and pulling him closer. The hand holding the pool cue quickly passes it onto one of his squad mates before finding purchase in your hair. You moan into his mouth, teeth knocking together as you breath him in. You can hear cheering from surrounding patrons, some even clapping at your public display.

"Let me take you home." The words leave his lips with a groan as you nip at his bottom lip, your nails grazing the nape of his nape before trailing through his sun-kissed hair again. "Let me show you how much I've missed you darlin." With one last forceful kiss, you both pull apart for air. The flush on his cheeks bringing a bigger smile to your already beaming face.

You take a glance down to the dog tag that hangs around his neck, and with a raise of your eyebrows you loop your finger around the chain and pull him closer towards you.

"Are you married Lieutenant?" The gold wedding band that sits proud against his dog tags glistens in the light. A scoff leaves Jake's throat as he tucks his thumbs through your belt loops, your hips flush against his own, the feeling of his arousal sending another wave of want through your own body. "Why, yes Mrs Seresin, I am."

"Well she's a lucky girl to get to take you home, sir."

"No, I'm the lucky one darlin'."

Like a teenager, you giggle at your husband, pulling him in for another kiss before he takes your hand and swiftly leads you towards the exit of The Hard Deck, a majority of the crowd cheering and clapping in your wake. Even Penny rings the bell as she watches you leave, shaking her head in disbelief. She's never seen two people so in love.

Buy Me A Coffee

[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 17

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know it's not technically the 17th yet. But I just finished writing this one and I'm really excited for you guys to read it. I also know I have a lot going on tomorrow so not sure when I'll have time to post it, so posting it a little early! This is probably some of the smuttiest smut I've ever written so please let me know what you think as this one was kind of outside of my comfort zone!

PROMPT: "I want you to beg for it."

KINK: Degradation

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT. MINORS DNI. (Degrading Language (obviously), Oral: Male Receiving, P in V Sex. Semi-Public Sex (Public Bathroom)

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

TAG LIST: See Comments Below

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The Hard Deck was buzzing with energy when you and Jake walked in, the familiar scent of salty ocean air and the hum of the packed bar immediately hitting your senses. It was always busy on a Friday night, but tonight seemed especially crowded. As you scanned the room, your eyes landed on two different bachelor parties gathered at the bar, their laughter loud and the drinks already flowing freely. The air was thick with excitement, and you could feel the playful chaos waiting to unfold.

Jake's hand slid over the small of your back, gently guiding you through the crowd. He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Stay close to me tonight, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low but full of intent.

You glanced up at him, catching that cocky grin that always made your pulse quicken. With the way his hand lingered at your waist, possessive but protective, it was clear he wasn’t in the mood to share your attention with anyone else.

You gave him a small nod, feeling the heat of the crowded room but more focused on the warmth of his presence beside you.

“Promise,” you said with a playful smirk, leaning into his touch just a little more.

Jake’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he led you deeper into the bar, navigating through the sea of people. The bachelor parties already seemed rowdy, but it didn’t matter. You were exactly where you wanted to be—right by Jake’s side, with a night full of flirtation, drinks, and maybe a little trouble ahead.

An hour into the night, you found yourself sipping on your drink, watching as Jake and Rooster engaged in their typical back-and-forth over a game of darts. It was all in good fun, but there was no denying the competitive edge to Jake's demeanor. Rooster came close to a bullseye, and you could almost see the challenge sparking in Jake's eyes as he lined up his next throw. He had to hit a perfect bullseye; anything less wouldn’t do. It was just how he was—always needing to one-up the competition.

With Jake caught up in his game, you decided to wander a bit. You spotted Bob sitting across the room, perched on a stool by the pool tables, nursing a drink. His easygoing demeanor always made for good conversation, and you figured Jake could live without your attention for a few minutes. After all, he seemed pretty absorbed in proving his point to Rooster.

As you made your way across the room, weaving through the crowded bar, you felt Jake’s eyes briefly flicker in your direction, but he didn’t call you back. He could get over it. Bob was a friend, and talking to him was hardly a crime.

“Hey, Bob,” you greeted with a smile, stepping closer to where he sat.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked, his eyes lighting up as you came closer.

The noise of the bar was almost overwhelming, so you leaned in, bringing yourself closer to Bob to hear him better. His voice was low, and the constant chatter and laughter from the bachelor parties made it hard to catch everything he was saying. You had to get even closer when Bob leaned in with a grin, telling you a lighthearted joke that made you laugh.

As you laughed, your eyes unintentionally drifted over to where Jake stood, still holding his dart. You immediately caught his gaze, sharp and narrowed as it honed in on you. There was a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before, and his grip on his beer bottle tightened as he raised it slowly to his lips. He didn’t look angry, but there was definitely something simmering beneath that cool exterior.

You knew he’d probably have something to say about it later—Jake never missed a thing, especially when it involved you—but it was harmless. You were just chatting with a friend, nothing more.

Still, the way his eyes lingered on you made your heart race, and you had to admit, a small part of you enjoyed knowing he was watching. Let him stew. You were having a perfectly pleasant conversation with Bob, and if Jake wanted to make something of it, that was his problem.

“You okay?” Bob asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You gave him a reassuring smile, brushing off the tension you felt coming from across the room.

“Yeah, just fine,” you replied, but in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder what Jake was thinking—and what he’d say when you inevitably ended up back at his side.

After excusing yourself from your conversation with Bob, you made your way toward the back of The Hard Deck, heading for the bathroom near the kitchen. It wasn’t the one most people used—the sign outside read “Storage,” and only Penny and the regulars knew the truth. You liked it that way; it meant privacy, a quiet moment away from the crowded bar.

Just as you were about to close the door behind you, a hand shot out, stopping it from shutting completely. Your eyes widened as Jake slid into the small bathroom with you, his expression unreadable, but the tension radiating off him was palpable. Without a word, he reached behind him, locking the door with a soft click.

Before you could fully process what was happening, Jake had you spun around, pressing your back firmly against the door. His body crowded yours, and you felt the heat of him as he leaned in close.

His voice was low, almost a growl as he asked, “What were you doing out there, huh? Getting all cozy with Bob?”

Your heart pounded in your chest. You tried to stammer out an explanation, but he wasn’t having it. His eyes bore into yours, the cool green intensity making it clear that he wasn’t in the mood for excuses. The look in his eyes sent a rush of excitement through you, even as you felt the weight of his jealousy pressing in.

“Jake, it was nothing,” you started, but he cut you off, his voice sharp and biting.

“Nothing? You think I didn’t see the way you were leaning into him? Laughing like that?” His words dripped with accusation, and the hint of anger in his tone made your pulse quicken. “Am I not enough for you anymore?”

You shook your head, trying to explain, but he pressed on, his words cutting deeper.

“What, you that desperate for attention? Couldn’t wait a few minutes while I beat Rooster at darts?” His hand slid down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he kept you pinned against the door.

The way he looked at you—like he was ready to stake his claim—made your breath catch. Part of you wanted to push back, tell him he was overreacting, but another part…a darker, more reckless part…was thrilled by the intensity of it all. You could feel the heat rising between the two of you, the air thick with tension.

“Answer me,” he demanded, his grip tightening slightly on your waist, his eyes never leaving yours.

You swallowed hard, the excitement and anticipation swirling inside you. You knew what was coming next—and despite the sharpness of his words, you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you at the thought of what was about to happen.

You batted your eyelashes up at him, letting your bottom lip slide between your teeth as you looked through your lashes. The intensity of Jake’s gaze didn’t waver, but you could see the flicker of something darker, something possessive in his eyes. Slowly, you trailed your hand down the front of his shirt, your fingertips brushing against the firm muscles underneath.

“Can I make it up to you?” you asked, your voice soft, with just enough sweetness to cut through the tension.

Jake didn’t answer right away, but the corner of his mouth tugged up in a small, smug grin.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Ask nicely,” he murmured, his tone demanding, but smooth as ever.

Your heart raced at his words, knowing what he wanted, and feeling the power shift between the two of you. You swallowed your pride and looked up at him, your voice a little breathless, laced with submission as you asked, “Please, Jake… can I get on my knees for you?”

For a split second, he didn’t move. The tension hung heavy in the small bathroom, but then, his expression shifted—satisfied, pleased—and he gave a low chuckle.

“Good girl,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across your jaw. “That’s more like it. But let’s hear you ask again, this time even sweeter. I want you to beg for it.”

Your pulse quickened. You could feel the thrill coursing through your veins as you met his eyes, knowing exactly what he wanted from you. Your lips parted, voice trembling with need as you whispered, “Please… please, Jake… I’ll be good, I promise. Let me make it up to you.”

His grin widened as he looked down at you, clearly satisfied with your words. He stepped back slightly, giving you the space you needed, his hand gently guiding you down.

“Go ahead,” he said, his voice a husky drawl. “Let’s see just how nicely you can make it up to me.”

You did as he commanded, sinking slowly to your knees, the cool tile beneath you contrasting with the heat rising between the two of you. Your breath quickened, heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with need. Jake's hand found its place at the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair as he guided you down, his grip firm yet possessive, letting you know exactly who was in control.

Your fingers reached for his belt, fumbling only for a second before you quickly undid it, the metal buckle clinking as it came loose. The sound echoed in the small bathroom, and your anticipation grew. With one last glance up at him, you tugged the belt free and began working on the button and zipper of his pants.

Jake's eyes never left you, his lips curling into that signature smirk of his, dark and full of satisfaction. 

"That's it," he drawled, voice thick with desire. "Take your time, sweetheart. We’re in no rush."

You could feel the heat between your legs grow even stronger at his words, the dominance in his voice igniting something in you. But you didn’t want to take your time. You needed this—you needed him.

As soon as his pants were undone, you gently tugged them down just enough, exposing him to your gaze. The sight of him, hard and ready, sent a shiver down your spine, but you maintained eye contact, waiting for his next command.

Jake tilted his head slightly, watching you intently. 

“We both know you know what to do,” he said softly, though the authority in his voice was unmistakable. “Go ahead. Show me what a good little slut you are.”

With his permission, you leaned forward, your lips hovering just above him, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. The anticipation built, the intensity in his stare making you want to please him even more. Slowly, you began, letting your mouth do the talking, determined to show him exactly how sorry you were.

Jake’s hand tightened in your hair, a deep groan escaping his throat as you worked, the control still firmly in his hands as he guided you. His other hand pressed against the door, his body tense with restraint as you gave him everything he wanted and more.

"That's my little slut," he breathed, his voice low and filled with satisfaction. "Just like that."

Just when you felt the tension in Jake’s body tightening, signaling his release was near, he pulled you off him with a rough tug of your hair. A soft gasp escaped your lips as he yanked you to your feet, not giving you a second to regain your breath. His hand gripped your arm firmly as he spun you around, your hips hitting the sink with enough force to send a grunt leaving your body. But at the same time you felt a wave of excitement wash over you.

You barely had time to process the heat between you before Jake pushed you down, placing a hand on your back and bending you over the sink. The cold porcelain pressed against your palms as you caught your reflection in the mirror. His intense gaze met yours, his eyes dark with desire and control. You could see the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, knowing exactly what was coming next—and exactly how much you craved it.

He wasted no time. His large hand slid up your thigh, the roughness of his palm sending shivers across your skin as he lifted your skirt, exposing you to him. You let out a soft whimper as he smoothed his hand over your ass, squeezing firmly before pulling your underwear to the side.

“You think you can get away with it?” Jake growled in your ear, his voice dripping with both frustration and lust. “Getting all cozy with Bob like that, knowing I’m watching? Being a little whore.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a small moan as you felt him press against you, his hard length rubbing between your legs, teasing you.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck as he spoke again. “You’re mine,” he whispered harshly, his hand gripping your hip tightly. “And I’m gonna make sure you remember that.”

With a quick thrust, he was inside you, filling you completely as you gasped at the sudden sensation. Your hands gripped the edge of the sink as Jake set a hard, relentless pace, each thrust pushing you further into the porcelain. The intensity of it made your head spin, his grip on you firm as if he needed to stake his claim in the most primal way.

You could feel the tension between your legs building again, the way he moved inside you pushing you closer to the edge with every stroke. His hand slid up your back, keeping you pressed down against the sink as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Look at yourself," he demanded, his voice rough. "Look at how good that pussy takes me."

Your eyes met his in the mirror, the sight of him behind you only adding to the intensity of the moment. The way his khaki uniform pants still hung low around his hips, the tight muscles of his chest and arms straining as he held you in place—it was enough to drive you over the edge.

Jake's hand slid from your hip to the back of your neck, holding you down as he pounded into you. "You’re gonna remember this next time you think about getting cozy with someone else," he growled, his pace becoming rougher, more demanding.

Jake’s hips keep moving steadily as he grips your waist firmly. You’re getting close, every nerve in your body coiling tighter with each movement, but just as you’re about to hit your peak, Jake's voice rumbles low in your ear.

"You're gonna have to beg for it," he says, his breath hot against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You do as he says, your voice soft and needy, but Jake doesn't let up. Instead, he smirks and shakes his head, leaning in closer. "You don’t deserve it—not after your little stunt with Bob."

The pace doesn't stop. "Do you like this, huh? Getting fucked right here where anyone could walk in and catch you, bent over, needing me like this? Being my good little slut."

Your body betrays you, every bit of frustration turning into more want. 

Jake reaches up and one hand moves to your hair, grabbing a handful of it before pulling your head back sharply. He brings his lips to your ear and whispers, “not even Baby on Board would want a useless little slut like you. One that can’t even follow such a simple command such as stay close.”

You’re moaning his name at this point, your knuckles white from gripping the edges of the sink.

“Look at how good you take my cock. So good, baby. Just like the dirty little slut you are.”

Moments later you feel his grip on your waist tighten and his hips still as he releases his load inside you. 

“You like that, huh? You like being filled with my cum like a little slut? I want you to keep it there. I want it dripping down your thighs so every guy in this bar knows what you are.”

You’re panting and your release isn’t far off. You start moving your hips back against his, trying to close that last little bit to bring yourself to the edge.

But just when you think you might break, Jake pulls away, stopping all movement completely. He lets you linger there, your breath still ragged, the tension still crackling in the air. He doesn't say a word at first, just letting the silence speak volumes.

Then, with that same cocky smirk, he steps back and adjusts his uniform as if nothing had happened. He quickly zips and buttons his pants before buckling his belt. He glances 

"Maybe next time, sweetheart," he says, voice dripping with confidence.

He lingers by the sink for a moment, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it down to make sure it’s still perfectly in place as if to remind you how unfazed he is by the whole thing that just happened.

Satisfied with how he looks, he turns to you. "Pull yourself together before you come join me," he adds with a smirk, unlocking the door. 

With one last glance over his shoulder, Jake steps out into the bustling bar, leaving you to collect yourself in the quiet, the adrenaline still surging through your veins.

You splash cold water on your face, feeling the coolness soothe your flushed skin. You take a deep breath, adjusting your dress in the mirror, running your hands over the fabric to smooth out any signs of what just happened. With one final glance in the mirror, you do your best to compose yourself before heading out.

As you step back into the bar, the crowd feels a little more overwhelming than before, but you spot Jake near the pool tables talking to Phoenix and Rooster. The familiar sound of laughter from their banter draws you in as you make your way through the crowd toward him.

The moment Jake sees you, his entire expression softens. That cocky grin he usually wears shifts into something warmer, and without hesitation, he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. His arm slides comfortably around your waist, pulling you close to him as if nothing else in the bar matters.

"Hey, baby" he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and affectionate. It’s a stark contrast from the intense energy in the bathroom, and the warmth in his tone settles any lingering tension.

As the pool game continues between him and Rooster, Jake stays close. Between turns, his hand is always on you—sometimes resting gently on your lower back, sometimes tracing soft circles on your side, just a quiet reminder that he's there, grounding you. Every now and then, he leans in to check on you, his gaze soft as he asks if you’re okay, but with just enough subtlety that it doesn’t draw attention.

It’s in these small moments that you feel the balance. The intensity from earlier has given way to something more tender, and with every touch, you’re reminded that Jake isn’t just about the bravado—he knows how to take care of you, even in the smallest ways.

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Joel goes on a date but not with you. Two idiots falling and pining for each other. Lotta swearing, because, yeah, I like it. Reader has long enough hair for a ponytail and likes comfy clothes. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used by her dad.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you for reading this little tale! I did not expect all the love - my heart is fit to burst over all the wonderful comments and reblogs!

Chapter Two | Main Masterlist

“Good morning, Millers!” you greeted as you let yourself into their house the following morning. Nearing late October, it was a beautiful day outside and the crisp morning air made you happy. It would heat up later, but for now you were enjoying the comfort of a beloved hoodie and yoga pants.

“Hi darlin’,” Joel replied with a lot less enthusiasm as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe. Still nursing his first cup of coffee, his sparkling personality hadn’t kicked in yet. “Sarah’s just gettin’ dressed. Want some coffee?”

“Nah, don’t drink the stuff. Smells good, but the taste is just…” You scrunched up your nose, at a loss for the right word to describe how utterly disgusting you found the taste of coffee. You moved through the house to join him in the kitchen.

Turning back to the counter with a chuckle, Joel poured himself another cup and shrugged. “There’s no accounting for taste, I guess. More for me, then.”

“There’s the silver lining!” you teased. “So, you guys have any big plans this weekend?”

“Nah, should be qui—Oh shit, I almost forgot!” Joel closed his eyes, bumping a fist against his forehead. His gaze was shuttered when it met yours again. “Would you mind watching Sarah on Saturday evening?”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t have any plans, so I’m happy to hang with the nugget. You got a hot date or something?” You meant it as a joke, but the way Joel winced clued you in. Your face fell at his next words, and you hoped he didn’t notice.

“Uh, yeah. Tommy set it up.” Joel drained the rest of his cup, tossing it into the sink, and ran an anxious hand through his curls. “First one in a while, ya know.”

No, you didn’t know. But it wasn’t really your business, was it? Sarah’s arrival in the kitchen saved you from having to say anything else as the little girl launched herself at you.

“Hey nugget,” you said, wrapping your arms around her little body as she clung to your waist. Despite your best efforts, your greeting lacked your prior enthusiasm. You could feel the heavy weight of Joel’s gaze on you like a laser, but you refused to look in his direction. “You ready to go?”

“Uh huh, I already ate breakfast,” Sarah said proudly, spinning to hug her father. “Bye Dad, love you.”

You turned away, already heading for the door as Joel pulled her in for a bear hug, feeling your heart constrict at how much they loved each other. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

Joel had a date.

A date who wasn’t you.

Man, that fucking sucked.

Could you blame the guy, though? He was still young and handsome, hardworking and responsible to a fault. And, most of all, he didn’t know that you harbored growing feelings for him. Nor could he ever find out, you reminded yourself, not when your dad was his best friend.

The ride to drop Sarah off was full of silence, your mind weighed down with thoughts of Joel and the valiant effort of trying to convince yourself to stop thinking about him. Coming out of the fog as you moved up in the school drop-off line, you wished Sarah a good day and watched as she bounced up the steps into the building. You envied that sweet obliviousness of youth.

Driving away from the school, anxiety started to kick in. The thought of going back to your house to sit alone as the four walls closed in on you made your stomach churn. You drove around for an hour, no real destination in mind, and ended up at Peace District Park. With nothing much else to do, you walked the trails of the urban oasis and let nature work its magic in calming your nerves.

It worked.

As you sat on a bench watching songbirds flutter around the flora, you texted one of your best friends from high school who still lived in the area. You needed a girl’s night out.

Distractions were dangerous in his line of work, but Joel struggled to get his mind to focus all morning. He fixated on the way your face fell and your entire demeanor changed when he mentioned the date, like you were disappointed, hurt even. But that couldn’t be, could it?

There was no way you felt something for him. Was there?

Joel went over and over every interaction between you two since the day you met, trying to see if he was reading into things too much. He wasn’t the most observant guy, he knew that well enough, but there were moments when he’d catch you gazing at him with this look of wonder in your eyes… that had to mean something. Right?

Fuck. He was really bad at this stuff. So out of practice and lacking confidence.

Maybe he just imagined it all. Maybe you had something else on your mind and didn’t give a shit about someone like him going on a date.

What could he do about it if you liked him anyway? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So, what did it matter. You were JB’s daughter and Sarah’s babysitter, nothing more and nothing less.

Joel’s mind continued to cycle through the same thoughts all day, until he smashed his thumb with a hammer because he was so distracted. Pissed off and in pain, he called it a day a couple hours early, leaving Tommy in charge of the site. He needed to get home and put some ice on his thumb.

By some cosmic coincidence, he arrived home at the same time as you and Sarah. He couldn’t hide his thumb from your eagle eyes as the three of you entered the house.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!” you hissed, trying not to swear in front of Sarah, your delicate hand already reaching for his larger, dirtier one. “What happened to your thumb?”

“It got in the way of a hammer,” Joel mumbled, doing his best not to wince as you gently prodded at the swollen digit. He also did his best to ignore the softness of your skin and the warmth of your touch on him, wishing you would touch him everywhere. “You don’t have to fuss, darlin’. It just needs some ice.”

“Oh, hush up, you. Go wash your hands then sit down and relax, I’ll get you some ice and aspirin to help with the swelling. You’re lucky it’s not broken!”

“Bossy lil’ thing, aren’t you,” he grumbled, doing exactly as you ordered once his boots were kicked off to the side of the foyer. Sarah nestled against him on the couch once he sat, fussing over his thumb just as much as you did. His lips quirked upwards at the thought that it meant you both cared about him.

You returned minutes later with a bag of frozen peas, two white pills, and a bottle of cold beer in hand. “Take these,” you directed, offering him the pills and beer. Once he swallowed, you placed the bag on his hand, carefully adjusting it to wrap around his thumb. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you concentrated on not hurting him and he nearly groaned as an ache built up in his belly at the sight.

“Thank you, darlin’,” Joel said, voice deep and husky before clearing his throat. His eyes clocked your movements as you stood up straight and your eyes widened when they met his half-lidded gaze. He catalogued the moment to add to the growing list of moments between the two of you that hinted at something deeper, something more lingering in the air.

You waved off his thanks and headed back to the kitchen, calling over your shoulder, “I’ll make some dinner for your two before I leave.”

He wanted to follow you, to let you know he wanted you to stay for dinner, and maybe watch a movie with him and Sarah afterwards, but Sarah’s sweet little voice distracted him.

“Will you help me with my homework, Daddy?” She peered up at him with eyes that matched his own and his heart swelled with love.

“Of course, my little nugget. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

They worked on math problems until you called them for dinner, Joel relieved at the break. An exceptionally bright girl, Sarah didn’t really need his help, but she enjoyed it when he tried. Math made his head hurt, a headache starting to build between his eyes. The headache grew at the sight of only two plates full of spaghetti on the table.

“You’re not eating?” Sarah’s voice squeaked, making her dissatisfaction clear. Turning to him as you shook your head, she added, “Daddy! Tell her she can stay!”

Joel’s mouth barely opened before snapping shut again. You were already speaking, cutting off whatever he would have said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, nugget. I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Sarah’s disappointment broke his heart, and Joel felt helpless.

“You sure you can’t stay? I thought maybe we could watch a Disney movie after.” He looked at you with unmasked hope in his eyes. He wanted you to stay even more than his daughter did, but he couldn’t tell you that.

Something flashed in your eyes but disappeared before Joel could figure out what it was. “Sorry, I have plans with a friend and I can’t stay. You two enjoy the movie without me,” you said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll come by at 4:30 tomorrow, okay?”

Joel nodded, cringing at the reminder of his date, and watched you leave with a pang of disappointment rivalling Sarah’s.

Emily never changed. She was still the prettiest girl in the room and funny as hell, lifting your mood just like she did back in high school. The pair of you sat at a swanky bar downtown, catching up like you never missed any time together. You stayed in touch a bit over the years, but the distance and different priorities led to your friendship taking a back seat to everything else. Now that you were back, it was easy to dive right back into that unbreakable bond the two of you always shared and pick up where you left off.

You didn’t realize how much you missed that bond until now.

The bar filled with the typical Friday night after work crowd as the two of you sipped at your drinks and rehashed the past few years. Soon, the conversation moved to your current love life – or, more accurately, your complete lack of one.

“So, you seeing anyone lately?” Emily asked, signaling to the bartender that you were ready for another round. “Last I heard, you were with that dude… what was his name? The one that would gaslight you and always insisted your tears were weaponized when he made you cry.”

“Yeah, Tom. That asshole. I wasted too much time on him not knowing any better, but we broke up about a year and a half ago, thank God.” You cringed at the thought of all the emotional damage you had to overcome after that one. You worked hard on finding yourself again after that disaster. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

Ever the receptive one, Emily picked up something in your tone that you couldn’t hide. Tilting her head curiously, clocking your movements with her sharp eyes, she continued, “But there’s someone who caught your eye? Do tell!”

Without hesitation, you launched into a long-winded explanation of how you met Joel and how you’re now a mess over the guy.

“Dad’s best friend, huh? When did you become such a cliché?” Emily teased, her shoulder gently bumping yours. “He sounds dreamy, though!”

“I am not a cliché! We don’t all get to all get to marry our high school sweetheart because we met ‘the one’ when we were 15. Talk about a cliché!” You cackled, drawing the attention of two men in suits a few seats down from you, but you ignored them.

“Alright, alright,” Emily mock surrendered. “Back to dad’s best friend. What is the problem? The JB I remember is a cool guy who wouldn’t have a problem with you dating his friend, not when said friend is only a bit older than you and such a good guy.”

That caught you by surprise. “You really think my dad would be okay with it?”

Emily shrugged. “I mean, I haven’t talked to your dad in years, but I remember him being a pretty reasonable guy and he always wanted the best for you. Why wouldn’t he want you to be with someone responsible and caring like this Joel guy?”

You nodded thoughtfully, your teeth worrying your plump bottom lip. “Even if my dad was cool with it, there’s the fact that Joel is not interested. He’s going on a date tomorrow, for fuck’s sake.”

After a moment of consideration, Emily asked, “Does he do that often? Date, I mean.”

You shook your head, fingers dancing absentmindedly along the edge of the bar. “Apparently not. He said it’s the first one in a long time.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “And you don’t find the timing suspicious?”

That caught you off guard, your eyes darting to hers. “Should I?”

Shoulders shrugging beneath long layers of dark hair, Emily hummed. “Maybe? From what you just told me about your interactions, I find it interesting that he’s suddenly going on a date. Makes me think he has feelings and he’s struggling with them just like you are.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You blew off her observations, you couldn’t afford to start having hope now when he was going on a date tomorrow. Instead, you changed the subject. “So, how are you and Ed doing?”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of conversation and mixed drinks with the occasional interruption from a few brave men hitting on you. It crossed your mind to flirt with one or two of them, but you were having too much fun catching up with Emily and blew each of them off. Before you knew it, the hour was late and Emily’s husband, Ed, picked you both up to make sure you got home safe.

“What the hell am I doing?” Joel asked his reflection as he tried on his fourth shirt from his closet. He wasn’t looking forward to this date at all, his mind a mess between feeling guilty about leaving Sarah, the confusing mix of emotions revolving around you, and his complete lack of confidence.

Torn between trying too hard and not trying at all, he huffed in frustration, ripping the buttons of the shirt open before tossing it onto the growing pile of discarded clothes on his bed.

He had no business going on a date. What had he been thinking when he agreed to go?

Joel slumped onto his bed in defeat, his right fist coming up to bump against his forehead. How could he ever think that going on a date would get his mind off you? Not to mention, he felt like a dick for asking you to watch Sarah while he went on said date.

God, he really wasn’t good with this kind of shit.

A glance at the clock got him moving. You were due to arrive shortly, and he had to pick Annica up for a 5:30 reservation Tommy insisted he make. There was no room to dilly dally.

Another glance through his closet and Joel settled on a blue flannel and dark jeans, paired with newer black boots. Best to just be himself, he thought. Using a bit of gel, he pushed his curls back from his face. His beard was freshly trimmed, and he ran his truck through the car wash earlier in the day.

“That’s as good as it’s gonna get,” he said to his reflection before leaving his bedroom, the doorbell ringing as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Joel opened the door to find you standing there, your feet shifting uncertainly. You looked tired, yet beautiful as always and he gulped. “Hey, why didn’t you just come in? You have a key.”

“Hey Joel,” you greeted with a shrug, your voice quiet. Your eyes scanned from his head down to his feet like you were drinking him in. “Just didn’t feel right, I guess.”

“Ok?” Confused, he waited for you to explain, but you kept your mouth shut. Something was off with you. He wondered if something happened last night – you said you had plans, had it been a date of your own? His heart skipped a beat as he shook his head clear. “Well, come on in. You doin’ alright, darlin’?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed back causing Joel’s brows to pull into a frown as you followed him into the house. “You look nice. Ready for your date?”

Was it just him or did it seem like asking that question pained you? What the fuck was wrong with him? Shaking his head free of thoughts like that, he blushed. “Oh, uh, thanks. As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” After a beat, he added, “I’m kinda nervous, actually.”

Joel watched your eyes soften at that. “You shouldn’t be. Any woman would be lucky to go on a date with you.”

Including you? he wondered. There was a wistfulness to your voice that shattered him, leaving him ready to ditch his date and stay there with you and Sarah. “Hey, I, um—”

“You’re here! Finally! Come on, I want to show you something!” Sarah sprinted into the living room, grabbing your hand, and stealing your attention before Joel could finish his sentence. Maybe that was a good thing. God only knows what was about to come out of his mouth.

“Slow down, nugget! I’m coming,” you laughed as the young girl dragged you toward the stairs. It was the first smile of yours Joel glimpsed since you arrived, and his heart beat heavy in his chest when you turned to speak to him over your shoulder, your broad smile dimming with your next words. “Have fun tonight, Joel. You deserve a nice night out.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” he replied, the words heavy in his mouth. Clearing his throat, he called out, “Be good, Sarah! I ordered pizza for you both, should be here soon.”

“I always am, Dad! Love you!” Sarah yelled down the stairs, her attention already focused on whatever she wanted to show you.

“Love you, too.” Joel continued staring up the stairs long after the two of you were out of sight, a sense of yearning knotted deep in his chest. Forcing himself to look away, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door, once again asking himself why the hell he agreed to this date in the first place.

“Can we go see it tonight? Please?” Sarah gazed up at you with her dark eyes widened like a baby cow and you were powerless. How did Joel ever tell this precious, sweet girl ‘no’? It was impossible.

“Let’s see what the showtimes are first. We can’t be out too late.” Scanning the movie listing Sarah pulled up on her tablet, you found the showtimes for the latest kid friendly adventure movie she wanted to see. “There’s one at 6:30. We can totally do that one and still have you home for bedtime. Sound good?”

“Yes! Can we get popcorn?”

“Of course! No trip to the movies is complete without popcorn.”

The two of you ate some pizza before getting ready to go. You liked getting there early enough to find your seats and see the trailers before the movie started. Texting Joel on your way out the door to let him know you were taking Sarah out, the two of you climbed into your car.

The movie theater was busy as usual for a Saturday evening, but you found a good parking spot beneath a light post not far from the entrance. There were lines for tickets and concessions leaving you relieved at arriving early. With tickets in hand, you led Sarah to the shortest of lines in front of the concessions counter. That’s when you saw them.

A tall blonde with big hair and legs for days, wearing tight fitting jeans like a second skin and yapping away while walking closely with a taller man with broad shoulders and curly, dark hair. The man’s sleeves were rolled up, his left hand placed low on the woman’s back, gently guiding her as she gripped a bucket of popcorn and a fountain drink. Another fountain drink was clutched in the man’s right hand. As if he felt the searing heat of your jealous gaze, the man turned, and your stomach plummeted.

Joel’s dark umber eyes met yours in surprise, his hand dropping from the woman’s back as he watched your face fall. He looked uncertain, like he didn’t know whether to carry on with his date or rush to your side. His eyes darted to find Sarah standing at your side, her focus on the snacks displayed within the glass counter. Forcing a half smile to your face, you dipped your head in greeting and turned to move forward, your attention refocusing as it was your turn to plan an order. All the while, your mind raced with thoughts of Joel and his date. Knowing that he wouldn’t want to introduce his daughter on a first date, you never told Sarah that you saw him.

Handing the bucket of popcorn to Sarah, you said, “Careful now. I’ll grab napkins and carry our drinks.” You led the way past the concessions toward the designated theater, which was, thankfully, on the other side of the building from where Joel and his date had been heading.

You phone buzzed in your pocket once you and Sarah were seated – in the middle of the aisle, at Sarah’s insistence, because you’d have the best view. It was a text from Joel.

JM: Sorry darlin’ just saw your text. Hope you and Sarah enjoy your movie.

Torn between responding or just leaving him on read, you went with a third option and gave his message a thumbs up before shoving the phone deep into your pocket. Minutes later, you relented with a sigh, pulling the phone back out to respond a little kindlier.

You: Thanks. I didn’t know you were taking your date to the movies or we would have gone somewhere else.

Bubbles appeared as he was typing, but you didn’t want to see what else he had to say. Silencing your phone, you shoved it back into your pocket.

You were distracted the entire movie, staring blankly at the large screen as you over-analyzed every detail about Joel’s date. She was closer to his age, maybe even a bit older, with big, perky boobs and a pretty face covered with a thick layer of makeup. Her hairstyle fit the old quote, “the bigger the hair, the closer to God” and likely took her an hour or more to style. She made an effort, that’s what seemed to matter. Meanwhile, you sat in the theater with your hair scraped back into a messy ponytail and wearing worn jeans and a hoodie. You felt like a child compared to Joel’s date.

Part of you wanted to hate her for having all the features that Joel apparently found attractive, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t her fault the man you were pining over wasn’t the least bit interested in you.

Finally, the credits rolled, and you pretended to have paid attention to the movie as you listened to Sarah gushing over it for the entire ride back to the Miller house and in the moments between brushing her teeth and tucking her into bed.

The living room couch was particularly comfortable when you sat on it, your body settling into the pillowy cushions with a sigh as you stretched across it. Staring at the ceiling, eyes blinking tiredly, you wondered when Joel would be home, both eager for and dreading his arrival. Still mortified over nearly crashing his date and self-conscious about not fitting the mold of what he found attractive, you wondered what you’d even say to him when he walked through the door.

The pull of sleep too strong to fight, you submitted to the emotional exhaustion, dozing off until a gentle shake of your shoulder caused you to stir.

“Darlin’, go sleep in the spare room,” Joel murmured as you blinked your eyes open.

It took you a moment to come back to your senses, your body following his orders before your brain kicked back to life. He stepped back as you got up, one strong hand reaching out to hold you steady as you wobbled. You met his eyes as the haze of sleep began to clear. He gazed at you with such a soft look you trembled.

“You okay there?” he asked with a quiet laugh and your eyes flicked down to his mouth, catching the glint of something on his cheek, just above his beard. Focusing on that spot, it became clearer. A very distinct lipstick mark. He wasn’t even bothering to hide it.

Wrenching yourself from his gentle grasp, you slipped on your shoes and pulled your keys from your pocket.

Joel watched your every move, confused and clearly not wanting you to leave. “Hey, where are you going? Just take the spare room. You’re still half asleep.”

Shaking your head, you avoided looking at him. “Nah, Imma head home. G’night Joel, see ya Monday,” you said, turning your back on him as you headed for the door. Unable to help yourself as you wrenched the front door open, you added, “Might wanna go clean your face off.”

“What?” his baffled question echoed behind you as the door closed.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee@untamedheart81@anoverwhelmingdin@runningmom94@leilanixx@pedropascalfan221@lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115

[wolverigrl]

Logan x reader. Logan takes care of his girl having the flu. You know pure fluff, the whole package

Fevered Nights

Logan Howlett x f!reader

A/N: So I tried writing Logan true to character but still having some fluff in it! I hope you like it! <33

Warnings: none

Enjoy!

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

The air in the Xavier mansion was always filled with some form of chaos - students running through the hallways, missions being planned in the lower levels, or just the general buzz of mutant life.

Today, though, none of that mattered to me. The only thing I could focus on was the throbbing ache in my head and the thick fog that clouded my senses. I groaned, turning over in bed for what felt like the hundredth time, my nose completely stuffed up and my body feeling like it had been through a war zone.

"Hey, you alive?" a gruff voice cut through the muffled sound of my own misery.

I cracked an eye open and saw Logan standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his usual scowl firmly in place. Even though I felt like garbage, I couldn’t help but smile weakly.

"Barely.." I croaked, my throat raw.

"Yeah, figured. You sound like death warmed over." He stalked into the room, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but I could tell he was concerned. Logan didn’t do well with expressing it, but I could always read him, even when he tried to play it cool.

I let out a miserable sigh, sinking deeper into the mound of pillows behind me.

"I’m fine, Logan. Just a flu. You don’t have to hover."

"I’m not hoverin’." he shot back immediately, grabbing the chair by the desk and pulling it closer to the bed. "Just makin' sure you don’t cough up a lung or somethin’. Charles would have my head if I let you die on his watch."

I rolled my eyes - well, as much as I could manage with the pounding headache. "Right. Blame Charles."

He grunted, his eyes softening for a brief moment as he leaned in, placing a rough but gentle hand on my forehead. His touch was cooler than my fevered skin, and I closed my eyes, leaning into it slightly.

"You're burnin’ up, darlin'. When’s the last time you took somethin’ for it?"

I opened one eye to give him a half-hearted glare.

"I dunno. I’ve been too busy feeling like death to keep track."

Logan sighed, standing up and muttering something under his breath that I couldn’t quite catch. A second later, he disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the sound of rummaging through the medicine cabinet. It was weird seeing him in caretaker mode.

Usually, it was me who worried about him - after missions, when he'd come back covered in blood (usually not his own) and grumbling about healing too slowly. But here he was, playing nurse, and I wasn’t about to complain.

A few minutes later, he returned with a glass of water and some medicine in hand. He sat back down, holding them out for me and staring at me with that sharp gaze, arms crossed like he was trying to figure out how to fix me just by looking.

I groaned, feeling the pressure in my head pound relentlessly.

"Here." he said, holding the pills out for me. "Take these."

I eyed them skeptically, leaning away.

"How do you even know what I need? You never get sick."

Logan’s lips twitched, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Maybe not, but I’ve had to take care of enough people to know how to knock a flu down." His eyes glinted mischievously as he leaned in closer, voice dropping into that low, gravelly tone.

"Unless you want me to pin you down and push ‘em down your throat for you?"

His words sent a spark through me, momentarily distracting me from how miserable I felt. I knew he was teasing, but there was that unmistakable edge in his voice - the one that always made my heart race, no matter how bad I felt. I narrowed my eyes at him, trying not to show the way my body responded.

"You wouldn’t dare." I muttered, but my voice wavered slightly, betraying me.

He let out a low chuckle, leaning in even closer. "You really wanna test that theory, darlin’?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the heat of his presence despite the fever already burning through me. Logan was all rough edges and danger, but when it came to me, he had this way of softening - and I knew how much he enjoyed pushing my buttons. Even now, with me feeling like death, he couldn’t resist.

"Fine, fine.." I grumbled, snatching the pills out of his hand and popping them into my mouth. "Happy now?"

He leaned back in the chair, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips.

"There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

I gulped down the water, glaring at him over the rim of the glass.

"You’re lucky I don’t have the energy to fight you right now."

Logan’s grin widened as he shifted, the chair creaking under his weight.

"Well, when you do, I’ll be waitin’. But right now, you’re stuck with me."

Before I could muster a retort, Logan stood and moved closer to the bed, sitting on the edge of it this time. His large hand came up to my face, brushing a few strands of sweaty hair away from my forehead with a gentleness that always caught me off guard. Despite his tough exterior, Logan had a way of being soft when it mattered - when it was just the two of us.

"Gotta admit.." he murmured, his voice softer now as his fingers lingered against my skin, "I don’t mind takin’ care of you like this."

His thumb brushed along my temple, the roughness of his skin a soothing contrast to the fever burning through me.

My breath caught slightly at the sensation, but I tried to play it off with a weak chuckle.

"I’m pretty sure taking care of a sick person is low on your list of fun things to do."

Logan shook his head, his expression serious now. "You’d be surprised." His eyes locked with mine, that intensity making my pulse quicken again despite the exhaustion weighing me down.

"I don’t mind takin’ care of someone I care about, y/n. Not one bit."

I opened my mouth to say something, but the words caught in my throat. Logan wasn’t one for sentimental talk, and hearing him say it, especially in his gruff way, hit me harder than I expected.

He must’ve noticed the look on my face because he smirked again, a more teasing edge returning to his voice. "And besides.." he added, leaning in closer, "this way I get to see you all helpless. It’s kinda cute."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I’m sure me being a sweaty, sick mess is just what you’ve always wanted."

His eyes glinted with something deeper, and his hand trailed down to my cheek, the touch sending warmth through me. "You could be a mess all you want, darlin’. Still wouldn’t change a damn thing."

Before I could react, Logan pressed the back of his hand to my forehead, frowning. "You’re still burnin’ up." He stood, moving with that easy grace of his, heading toward the bathroom. I watched him, confused.

"Logan, where are you going?"

He didn’t answer right away, but I heard the clinking of bottles and rustling of tissues from the cabinet. When he returned, he had a cold washcloth in one hand and a box of tissues in the other.

"Gonna cool you down a bit." he muttered, as though he was embarrassed by the whole thing.

He sat back on the edge of the bed, gently pressing the cold cloth to my forehead. The relief was immediate, and I let out a small sigh as the coolness soothed my fevered skin. Logan’s fingers brushed over my temple again, his touch lingering longer than necessary, and for a moment, it was easy to forget the miserable state I was in.

"Logan…" I started, but my voice caught in my throat. He didn’t say anything, just gave me that intense look, his thumb stroking over my cheek softly before he handed me the tissues.

"Blow your nose, will ya? I ain’t dealin’ with the sound of you sniffling all night."

Despite the gruffness of his words, there was something affectionate in the way he handed me the tissues, watching me as I clumsily wiped my nose. I chuckled, weakly. "Sooo romantic!"

He raised an eyebrow, that smirk tugging at the corner of his lips again. "Just wait 'til you're better. I'll show you romance."

I shot him a half-hearted glare, tossing the tissue into the bin beside the bed.

"I'll hold you to that."

Logan leaned back again, watching me carefully. His eyes softened as he adjusted the cold cloth on my forehead, his hand lingering there a moment longer before he pulled back. "Don’t get used to this." he muttered, though I could hear the smile in his voice. "Just ‘cause you’re sick doesn’t mean I’m goin’ soft."

I snorted, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. Logan’s hand was immediately at my back, rubbing small circles as I struggled to catch my breath. Once the coughing subsided, I leaned back against the pillows, exhausted.

"You don’t have to stay, you know." I rasped. "Go do something else. Beat up Scott or... I don’t know, something that doesn’t involve you watching me die of the flu."

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his eyes flicking toward the door for a moment before returning to me.

"I’m not goin’ anywhere. You know that." He adjusted the washcloth on my forehead again, his fingers brushing through my hair.

"Besides, Scott can wait. You’re the one who needs me right now."

I looked up at him, too tired to argue, but the warmth in his voice made me feel just a little bit better. Logan was rough around the edges, but when it came to me, he always found a way to show how much he cared - even if it was in his own gruff, teasing way.

As I started to drift off again, I heard the door creak open, and a familiar voice filled the room.

"How’s she holding up?" It was Jean, peeking her head in.

"Better now that I got some medicine in her." Logan replied, his gruff tone softening ever so slightly.

Jean walked over, her expression warm as she checked my pulse with a quick touch of her hand.

"You're in good hands. Logan doesn’t let anyone he cares about suffer for too long."

I snorted at that, my voice raspy. "Yeah, he's a real softie."

Logan shot me a look, but there was no real anger behind it. "Watch it, darlin'."

Jean smiled, giving me a reassuring nod before heading back out.

"I'll check in later, Logan. Let me know if you need anything."

Once Jean left, Logan’s eyes were back on me. "Jean’s right, you know.." I murmured, my voice fading as I sank deeper into the bed. "You're not as tough as you pretend to be."

He grunted, leaning back in the chair. "Don’t push you're luck."

I smiled weakly, already feeling the effects of the medicine pulling me under. Even though I was sick, exhausted, and completely out of it, knowing Logan was there - grumpy attitude and all - made it a little easier to rest.

Before sleep took me, I heard him mutter, so low I almost missed it.

"I ain’t goin’ anywhere, y/n. Not ever leavin' you alone."

And with that, I finally let go, knowing Logan had my back, like he always did.

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

Tags: @angelofthorr @haytchee

[librababe99]

The Wolverine's Heart

❥・CW: Old Man Logan, Female Reader, age gap, mentions of violence and past trauma, emotional vulnerability, sexual content, body worship  ❥・Word Count: 1649

Summary: Tonight you wanted to show Logan just how loved and cherished he is....

(Masterlist)

The small cabin, nestled deep within the wilderness, was far removed from the chaos of the world. It was a place where time seemed to stand still, where the steady rhythm of nature was the only sound that filled the air. The tall pines, their needles whispering secrets to the wind, surrounded the cabin like silent sentinels, guarding its solitude. Inside, the warmth from the crackling fire cast long shadows on the walls, dancing with a life of their own.

Logan sat in his worn leather chair, nursing a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled in the glass as he absently rolled it between his fingers, his mind a thousand miles away. The years had not been kind to him, and the burden of a life lived too long and too hard weighed heavily on his shoulders. His once rugged, indestructible frame now bore the marks of time—scars that never fully healed, a limp that never quite disappeared, and the ever-present ache in his bones.

But there was one thing that had kept him grounded in the face of it all—you. You had come into his life like a breath of fresh air, a balm for his soul. Despite the years that separated you, despite the scars that marred his body and the ghosts that haunted his past, you had seen something in him worth loving. And that love, gentle yet fierce, had slowly worked its way into the cracks of his heart, filling the empty spaces he thought would remain forever hollow.

You watched him from the doorway, the flickering firelight casting a soft glow on his weathered face. His eyes, though hardened by years of battle, held a depth of emotion that never failed to take your breath away. You had always admired the strength in him, the unyielding determination that kept him going even when the world seemed intent on breaking him. But tonight, as you stood there, you felt an overwhelming need to show him just how much he meant to you, to worship every part of him that he so often dismissed as damaged or broken.

“Logan,” you called softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up at you, his expression softening as his gaze met yours. “Yeah, darlin’?”

You crossed the room to where he sat, placing your hand on his shoulder. The heat from his skin seeped into your palm, grounding you in the moment. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

His brow furrowed slightly, a mixture of confusion and hesitation crossing his features. “You don’t have to do that, kid. I’m fine.”

You knelt beside him, your hands resting on his knees as you looked up at him with a determination that matched his own. “I know I don’t have to, Lo. But I want to. You’ve done so much for me, and I want to give you something in return. Please, let me do this.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something he couldn’t quite name. Finally, he gave a slow nod, his rough exterior cracking just enough to let you in.

You rose to your feet and gently took the glass from his hand, setting it on the table beside him. Then, with a tenderness that belied the fire burning within you, you began to undress him. His flannel shirt, worn and frayed at the edges, slipped from his shoulders, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, marred with countless scars. Each mark told a story—of battles fought, of losses endured, of a life that had been anything but easy.

Your fingers traced the lines of his scars, your touch light as a feather. “Every one of these is a reminder of how strong you are,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You’ve survived so much…You’ve lived through things that would have broken anyone else. But you’re still here, and I’m so grateful for that.”

He didn’t respond, but the way his breath hitched told you he was listening. You continued to undress him, your movements slow and deliberate, as if each piece of clothing you removed was a layer of armor he no longer needed to carry with you.

When he was finally bare before you, you took a step back to drink in the sight of him. His body, though weathered by time and hardship, was still a masterpiece in your eyes. The strength in his muscles, the resilience in his bones, the raw masculinity that seemed to emanate from him—all of it was beautiful to you.

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “You’re beautiful, Logan,” you murmured against his skin. “Every part of you.”

A low rumble resonated deep in his chest, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of your head as he pulled you closer. His touch was firm, but there was a gentleness in the way he held you that made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to say that,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you cut him off, your lips brushing against his skin as you spoke. “I want you to know how much I love you, how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’ve given me so much, Lo Let me give you something back.”

You began to trail kisses across his chest, your lips worshiping every inch of him. You kissed each scar, each mark, each place where life had tried to break him and failed. And with each kiss, you felt him relax a little more, the tension slowly leaving his body as he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you.

Your hands roamed over his body, exploring the hard planes of his muscles, the rough texture of his skin. You marveled at the way his body responded to your touch, the way his breath hitched when your fingers brushed against a particularly sensitive spot. He was a man of few words, but his body spoke volumes, telling you everything you needed to know.

When you reached his abdomen, you paused for a moment, taking in the sight of him. His stomach, once taut and defined, now bore the softness that came with age. But to you, it was just another part of him to love, another part of him that made him who he was.

You pressed a kiss to his navel, your lips lingering there as you whispered, “You’re perfect to me, Logan. Every part of you is perfect.”

A low growl escaped him, and you felt his hand tighten in your hair. But it wasn’t a sound of anger or frustration—it was a sound of need, of desire, of a man who was slowly allowing himself to be loved in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.

You continued your journey downward, your lips and hands worshiping every part of him as if he were something sacred. And to you, he was. He was your protector, your confidant, your lover. He was the man who had seen you at your worst and loved you anyway, the man who had stood by you through everything, even when he had every reason to walk away.

As you reached his thighs, you took a moment to admire the strength in them, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed under your touch. You kissed the scars that marred his legs, the ones that told stories of battles fought and won. And then, with a reverence that took your breath away, you moved further, pressing a kiss to the most intimate part of him.

He let out a sharp breath, his hand still tangled in your hair as he fought to keep control. But you didn’t want him to hold back—not tonight. Tonight was about him, about showing him just how much he meant to you, about worshiping every part of him until he understood that he was worthy of love, that he was worthy of your love.

You took him into your mouth with a tenderness that belied the fire burning within you, your tongue tracing the contours of him. His taste was heady, intoxicating, and you reveled in the sounds he made as you pleasured him. The low growls, the sharp intakes of breath, the way his body tensed and relaxed under your touch—it was all a symphony to you, a symphony that played just for you.

You took your time, savoring each moment, each sensation. You could feel him trembling beneath you, could feel the way he was slowly losing the battle for control. But that was what you wanted. You wanted him to let go, to give in to the pleasure, to allow himself to be loved in the way he deserved.

And when he finally did, when he finally let go and allowed himself to be vulnerable with you, it was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He came undone in your hands, his body shuddering with the force of his release, and you held him through it all, your touch gentle and loving as you brought him back down to earth.

When it was over, when the last tremors had subsided, you pulled him into your arms, holding him close as you whispered words of love and reassurance into his ear. He clung to you, his body still trembling slightly, and you could feel the way his heart pounded against his ribcage, could feel the way his breath came in shallow gasps.

But more than that, you could feel the way he had finally let down his walls, the way he had finally allowed himself to be loved without reservation, without fear. And in that moment, you knew that this was just the beginning.

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed! While this is technically a standalone fic, I do have a 2.7K story thats completely done (its smut 🤭 and definitely dives into some new territory for me compared to other work I've posted) so you could look at it as a continuation of this little "universe." I'm curious if y'all would want that later tonight or maybe tomorrow? I don't want to release anything to quickly😭 - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

[sorchathered]

Dream Come True

Pairing- Bob Floyd/reader

Warnings-maybe language? It’s just straight fluff with maybe a twinge of angst.

Summary- reader can’t keep her feelings to herself anymore, Bob is an absolute dreamboat.

The Hard Deck is completely packed, everyone is off for the holiday weekend and it couldn’t be more overwhelming. You and Bob have hunkered down in a corner booth near the pool tables, nursing your beers while you watch the rest of the squad attempt to take on Hangman and Coyote at what is sure to be another devastating loss.

Bob comes back from the bar with more peanuts as you notice a few girls at the bar looking at him like he could be their next meal, and in true Bob fashion, he is absolutely clueless at just how hot he actually is. Just as charming as Rooster, and definitely just as handsome as Hangman; but the shy soft spoken man in front of you seems completely unaware of the looks he gets every time he steps into Penny’s bar. It’d almost be funny if you weren’t also one of the girls vying for his attention and getting absolutely nowhere.

“Goodness it sure is busy tonight, those girls couldn’t have gotten closer to me if they tried” he said, and you can’t help but throw your head back and laugh at how oblivious he was.

He quirks an eyebrow in your direction as you settle down with a deep sigh.

“You really don’t know the effect you have on people do you?” You say, mostly to yourself shaking your head with a smile, staring at your beer instead of at the bewildered WSO sitting next to you.

“Wha- Who? Me?!” Bob is beet red now, looking absolutely anywhere but at your face.

“Yes you! They were practically throwing themselves at you goofball!” Facepalming and erupting in giggles at the shock on his face.

He’s laughing with you in earnest now, but you can tell he still doesn’t quite believe you.

“Well that’s awful sweet of them darlin’ but I’ve got everything I need right here” reaching across the table and patting your hand, lingering a little longer than normal for two people who are supposedly just friends.

It’s always been like this, ever since the two of you met in the academy almost a decade ago. Sure you’ve both dated other people, but it never goes anywhere. Everyone always jokes that you’ll be married with a brood of kids one day and it gets passed off with an awkward laugh and quick subject change.

One of you is going to have to have the courage to breach whatever this is; a crush, sexual tension, love? Oh God shut up brain don’t get ahead of yourself…you’re smarter than this, if he had wanted you he would have said something by now. You could come out of your skin just thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, be his girlfriend, one day be his wife…

He’s looking at you now, eyebrows furrowed and looking a little worried that maybe the heat has gotten to you after all because you’ve all but spaced out trying to fight the war you’re having internally.

“Sweets if you think any harder your head is gonna explode, what’s going on up there?”

You open your mouth to tell him everything is fine but that is definitely (unfortunately) not what comes flying out.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since we got back to Top Gun, hell probably longer than that and I doubt you feel the same and oh God this is so awkward you know what just forget I ever said anything.” You blurted it out, literal word vomit. Good job genius now he probably thinks you’re nuts.

You can’t stay and look, it’s too hot in your little corner booth and you can feel the walls closing in so you jump up and whisper a half ass apology as you push out through the crowd and mercifully make it through the door.

Gasping in the sea air and trying to regulate your breathing are proving to be difficult now, because omg what the hell were you thinking? You told your colleague (yes he was more like your best friend but nevertheless) Bob Freaking Floyd, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen that you are in love with him and then ran out of the bar like Cinderella at midnight.

While your brain is spinning out of control, you barely notice the door opening behind you, and you certainly didn’t expect to startle as the person that came through the door links his fingers with yours.

It’s him, because of course it is. You knew better than to think you could just drop a bomb like that thinking he would let it go. Taking a deep breath you spin around to his kind face and stupidly perfect blue eyes.

“You done spiraling so we can actually talk about what the hell just happened?” He says, rubbing the back of his neck and for the first time in years you can’t get a read on him. Normally you can clock how he’s feeling from a mile away but this…this is something different.

“Is there any way I can get you to forget it?”

“Not a chance”

“I- fine.”

You open and close your mouth and try to get the words out but there’s only one thing your brain is screaming at you.

3 words, 8 letters. You say it to him in your head every day, when he’s sharing his snacks with you during Mav’s long lectures, when you are watching whatever sci fi show he’s currently obsessing over and his rambling commentary has you laughing at his nerdiness, when he sees a dog in public and immediately has to burst out for you to look at the puppy and you completely swoon over him because he may be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

Just say it. Life is too damn short. Especially in your line of work.

“I love you Robby. If it screws everything up between us and we can’t move on from this I get it, but I can’t keep it in anymore I-I’m sorry.” You’re staring at your feet now, starting to wish you could just teleport to another place or jump in whatever Time Machine exists in his shows to go back to before this ever happened.

But Bob? Robert Floyd, man of your dreams? He’s not phased or shaken, not one bit. He leans in, pulls your face in with both his hands and kisses you like it’s something the two of you have always done, like it should be completely obvious to you that he’s always felt this way, he was just waiting for you to solve the puzzle yourself.

Pulling away far sooner than you’d like, he has the audacity to chuckle when you try to chase his lips.

“Silly girl, it’s always been you don’t you know that? I was just waitin’ on you to decide what you wanted, now mind you I didn’t think it’d take you this long, but I’d wait forever if it meant we ended up here.”

You let out a watery laugh as more tears stream down your face, Bob quick to swipe them away with his thumb.

“Come on sweets, let me take you home and we can spend all weekend talking about what our forever should look like, because now that I’ve got you I’m not letting you go.”

And you do just that, because he really is everything you ever dreamed.

[bananababblegigglemuffin]

Wolverine's Forbidden Lesson

note: Old man professor logan and babygirl 18+ fem

You found yourself wandering the dusty streets of the middle of nowhere, barely paying attention to where you were going. The heat of the afternoon sun was brutal, and all you wanted was to find some shade and maybe, if the universe was nice, a cold drink. A bar came into view, rundown but still in business, the sign above the door barely hanging on by a rusty hinge.

You pushed through the door and immediately caught the scent of whiskey and something distinctly rugged. Looking up, you spotted him at the bar—a grizzled man, well past his prime but somehow still irresistibly hot. His broad shoulders practically burst out of his jacket, his hair a wild mess of silver and black. He was nursing a drink, but his eyes were sharp, looking at you with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

"What's a sweet thing like you doin' in a dump like this?" His voice was gravelly, a low rumble that made you feel weak in the knees. You walked over, your hips swaying a little more than usual. Something about the way his eyes trailed over you told you he noticed.

"Sweet? I can be a lotta things, but sweet's not usually at the top of the list," you teased, sliding onto the barstool next to him. "Got a name, old-timer?"

His lips quirked into something resembling a smirk. "Logan. And you?"

You gave him your name, and his eyebrows raised slightly, impressed. You ordered a drink and clinked glasses with him, feeling the sudden weight of the moment settle between you both. The air seemed charged, and while you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, there was an undeniable pull toward this gruff stranger.

"So," you leaned closer, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass, "what's a dangerous guy like you doin' out here, Logan?"

He gave a half-laugh, his eyes darkening. "Dangerous? Darlin', you don't know the half of it."

You grinned, something wicked and playful sparking in you. "Maybe I wanna find out."

His expression shifted, that sharp edge softening just a little. But only for a moment. He leaned in, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You play with claws, darlin', you might get cut."

You leaned closer too, close enough to feel the heat coming off his body, the scent of leather and something wilder underneath it. “I think I can handle a few scratches.”

Without missing a beat, Logan’s hand settled on your thigh, rough and warm through the thin fabric of your dress. You couldn’t help but bite your lip as his thumb traced lazy circles, your heart racing.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low, “I’m not a man who plays around.”

“Good,” you whispered, leaning even closer until your lips almost brushed his. “Neither am I.”

And that’s all it took.

In a flash, Logan’s hand was on the back of your neck, pulling you into a deep, heated kiss that stole the breath right out of your lungs. His lips were surprisingly soft, but the kiss was anything but gentle. It was raw, demanding, and so utterly him. You barely had time to process it before you were pressed up against the bar, Logan towering over you, his hands exploring every curve with a need that made your skin burn.

Your fingers tangled in his messy hair, tugging gently as he growled against your lips. “You sure you can handle this, darlin’?”

With a mischievous grin, you nipped at his lower lip. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Logan chuckled, but the sound was dark, promising. Before you knew it, he had lifted you off the stool, carrying you effortlessly toward the back room, the door slamming shut behind him. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was kissing you again, rougher this time, his hands pulling at the hem of your dress.

Every inch of you felt like it was on fire. His mouth found your neck, your collarbone, nipping and biting, leaving a trail of marks that sent shivers through your entire body. “God, you’re trouble,” he muttered against your skin, but the way he touched you said he liked it.

You gasped, your back arching as he pressed you against the wall, his hips grinding against yours in a way that left you dizzy. His claws, barely extended, grazed your thigh, teasing, making your breath hitch.

“You like that, darlin’?” he growled, his voice thick with lust.

You nodded, breathless. “Don’t stop.”

Logan’s lips curled into a wicked smile as he yanked you closer, your bodies fitting together like they were made for each other. His hand slipped beneath your dress, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your thigh, inching higher. “I ain’t gonna stop ‘til I’ve had my fill of you.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed over your most sensitive spot, a moan escaping your lips before you could stop it. “Logan…”

“Yeah, baby?” His voice was a rough whisper, his eyes blazing as he watched your every reaction.

“Don’t hold back,” you breathed.

His grin was all predator now, and as he claimed your lips again, you knew there’d be no going back. And you didn’t want to.

The rest of the night was a blur of heat and passion, Logan’s hands and mouth making you feel things you hadn’t even known you could. Every touch, every kiss left you begging for more, and Logan—well, he was happy to oblige.

By the time the sun was rising, your body was deliciously sore, and Logan’s arms were wrapped around you, his chest rising and falling as he dozed off. You traced the scars on his chest, smiling to yourself.

“Not bad for an old-timer,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

Logan stirred, one eye cracking open. “Told ya I was dangerous, darlin’.”

You giggled softly, nestling into him. “Guess I like a little danger.”

End.

Author: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated! Do tell me your ideas or suggestions and critiques

[alyygx]

Just Hold My Hand

Paring: Eugene Roe x Reader

Requested?: Yes, by @xxluckystrike

Warnings: None really. Just lots of fluff. So much fluff, in fact, you'll feel like you're floating on a cloud!

A/N: This is the first fic I've written in quite a long time so please be kind. I hope you all like it! And if you do please tell your friends or maybe even reblog! And then shoot me a request while you're at it. 😊

The cigarette smoke hung thick in the air as you sat smiling to yourself watching the rowdiness around you. These boys sure know how to enjoy themselves and Lord knows they all deserved it. Especially after everything this war had put them through. You were nursing your second glass of wine sitting on a stool that was brought outside. Everyone was gathered at a clearing in the woods just next to the beautiful building you were all staying in while in Austria. Spiers had forced everyone outside after the noise being made interfered with him concentrating on his paperwork. But there was no stopping the celebration. VE day was definitely something that needed celebrating. After all, it had been a long time coming. Sometimes you felt as if the war would last forever; that somehow this was just your life now, an endless cycle of blood, violence and death. You were one of the medics in Easy Co. and though you would do practically anything to take care of your war family you frankly couldn't stand seeing one more soldier wounded, bleeding, or in pain. It completely broke your heart in two. At that you grabbed your glass of wine and downed it, attempting to chase the thought away.

In the distance of the buzzing party chaos you heard a voice, sounding a lot like Luz but slurred, summoning you to come and join in the festivities. It's not that you weren't extremely thrilled that the Germans surrendered, far from it, you just really weren't a party person. The majority, if not the entirety, of the men were thoroughly drunk at this point and you were just ready to get out of there. You shook your head 'no' in Luz's direction and slid off the stool you were sitting on.

"Sorry guys. You're having way too much fun I'm afraid I couldn't keep up tonight." You said chuckling.

Luz just shrugged his shoulders and with a smile turned back to the group. As you turned to walk away you collided with another warm body only to discover it was Eugene.

"Where have you been hiding? I've been sitting here waiting for you!" You giggled, looking at your fellow medic waiting for his answer.

You and Gene had steadily grown closer and closer over the course of the war. Him being one of the few soldiers in company who could completely understand the things you were going through and vice versa. You both had finally admitted your feelings for each other and made things official shortly after Bastogne. With everything that happened in that God forsaken forrest being worried about rejection suddenly seemed like a stupid reason to not share what you feeling. Eugene apparently felt the same way too because you both ended up just blurting it out to each other at the same time and then laughing at your shared impatience.

"Sorry darlin' I didn't realize the location of the festivities had been changed. Walked around inside looking for everyone for 20 minutes before Spiers yelled from his office for me to look outside." He said smiling at you.

After glancing around at the other men and their drunken antics though his smile fell.

"You don't actually want to be here do you?" You asked, secretly hoping he wanted to do literally anything else but hang around this party.

"What?" He said suddenly as if you snapped him out of a thought. "Do you wanna get out of here?" Gene asked, taking both of your hands in his.

A wide smile spread across your face as your grip on Gene's hands tightened. He could tell by the look in your eyes that you had an idea.

"Yeah, and I think I know just the place to go."

Letting go of one of Gene's hands and pulling him along with the other you both started walking away from the festivities and onto a path that would lead you deeper into the woods. After walking together for several minutes, your hands never parting, you arrived at the lake. The moonlight was reflecting off the water and the mountains lined the background standing tall and regal topped with snow at their tips. It was the clearest night you'd seen in awhile. Not a single cloud in the sky and the stars shining so big and bright they looked like literal diamonds glistening out from a black background.

"This has been my favorite spot since we arrived here." You said staring out at the view. "But I had no idea how beautiful it would be at night"

Your eyes never left the view, Gene's eyes, however, never left you.

"Well, let's enjoy it then." Gene said, slowly beginning to sit on the ground, pulling you with him by your still entwined hands. You both laid close to each other, your hands still never parting.

"I use to do this all the time as a child." Gene told you. "Just laying, staring up at the stars at night. Really has a way of helping you figure things out."

You nodded your head in agreement. Allowing your thoughts to wander. To take you to what life will be like after you finally get to go home. You had told Gene that after you took a quick trip to see your family and gather your things that you would move to New Orleans with him. You're far from having second thoughts but now that Germany had surrendered you were beginning to get even more nervous about it.

"Gene?" You ask softly.

"Hmmm..." He hummed in acknowledgement.

"What if they don't like me?"

"Huh? Who mon cher?"

"Your family. I've never lived so far away from home before. What if they don't like me?"

Gene just smiled. His thumb beginning to rub circles on the back of your hand.

"Oh chérie. You have nothing to worry about. I know for a fact that they're going to love you. If for no other reason than because I love you."

This made you smile. Gene had always had a way of soothing you no matter what you were upset about. It's one of the many reasons you fell for him.

"Things are going to be so great once we get home. We might have to stay with my parents for a little while before we find a place of our own. But once I get a job and save up I'm gonna buy you the prettiest house in New Orleans. We'll fix it up real nice inside and get everything set to start our lives together!"

Gene was squeezing your hand now in such a manner that you couldn't help but feel his excitement. It was getting you hopeful for the future too. But at the same time you were still nervous. He seemed to pick up on this because he suddenly stopped talking.

"You ok?" He asked turning to face you.

"Yeah." You started. "It all sounds wonderful, it really does. It's just the idea of being in a new place so far from my family. I'm still a little nervous. It'll be different then being away from them like I have during the war because this time it'll be by choice. Or at least more of a choice than I felt I had when I enlisted." You sighed.

Gene just looked at you with those soft eyes of his you loved so much. Eyes so full of caring and compassion you could've just leaned over and kissed him right there.

"Everything will be fine mon amour. Any time you feel nervous or unsure all you have to do is just hold my hand. I promise that with time it will feel like home. We'll build our home together, we'll build our life together, and then once you feel comfortable we can get married." Gene smiled a hopeful smile while fishing his free hand in his pocket and suddenly pulling out something shiny.

You gasped, your eyes growing wide. It was the most beautiful ring you had ever seen.

"Well, what do you think?" He asked, holding the ring to hover over your left ring finger. "Will you marry me?"

Tears now filled your eyes. The whole thing felt like a dream. A dream you never wanted to wake from.

"Of course I will." You answered, the tears now running down your cheeks.

"We're gonna make it chère. I promise. Doesn't matter if the times are good or bad, all you have to do is just hold my hand."

[trickphotography2]

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 12

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 11 | Master List | Ao3

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

Chapter 12

Jake glanced around the waiting room, noting that he was one of three men waiting. Beside him, you filled out paperwork, pausing to place your hand on his bouncing knee. “Sorry,” he muttered. Tugging at the collar of his flight suit, he continued his perusal, gaze landing on a heavily pregnant woman across the room. She balanced a clipboard on her stomach as she filled out her own set of paperwork.  

He started when you stood and returned your clipboard to the desk. “You okay?” you asked after sitting back down, taking his hand in yours. 

“Yeah.”

“Liar.” Smirking, Jake brought your clasped hands to his lips, brushing a kiss to your knuckles before twisting your engagement ring so the diamond was straight on top of your finger. “Nervous?”

“A little.”

“Don’t worry - I’ll make sure you don’t end up in the stirrups, cowboy.” He rolled his eyes and was saved from responding when your name was called. Swallowing hard, you met his gaze and nodded before standing. Jake trailed behind you as you walked towards the nurse who escorted you back. After taking your vitals, weight, and a blood sample as Jake stood to the side, you were shown into an exam room. While you sat on the table, he took a chair, legs spread wide as his eyes darted around the small room. “If you listen hard, you can hear the sound of speculums clicking,” you said, tilting your head to the side.

“Really?” Jake asked, eyes wide. At that, you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You’re ridiculous. I need you to take a breath, babe. It’s just the gynecologist.”

“Haven’t exactly had a reason to be here before,” he grumbled. 

“You’ll fly at a thousand miles an hour, pulling ridiculous stunts, but a doctor’s office scares you?” 

“It’s not the office, darlin’. It’s the… this - ” he motioned to your stomach “ - being real. It’s one thing to have a blood test say you’re pregnant - ”

“Not to mention the joy of morning sickness,” you interjected. Today hadn’t been as horrible, though. For your first day back at work, Jake suggested setting an alarm an hour before you had to get ready to take the anti-nausea pill. The timing had worked, with the added bonus of being able to enjoy being wrapped in your fiancé’s arms, trading lazy kisses, and dozing off until it was time to get ready. While you showered, he made coffee and handed you the mug as soon as you stepped out. He lifted you onto the counter and licked the water drops from your shoulders and neck as you sipped it. 

“And the joy of morning sickness,” he agreed, a smirk crossing his mouth. “But it’s another to have one of these appointments.” The paper on the exam table crinkled as you stepped down and moved to stand between his legs. His hands closed around your hips, pulling you closer to kiss your stomach through your blouse.  Smiling, you ran your hand through his hair, nails lightly scratching the nape of his neck as he met your gaze. 

“You ready to see our little Air Force pilot?” 

Jake chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “You realize you’re gonna be a Navy wife, right?” 

“Once an Air Force brat, always an Air Force brat.”

“Then this one is going to be a Navy brat,” he shrugged, kissing your stomach again. His green eyes twinkled with mischief as he added, “Just like their Mama, apparently.” He lightly tapped your ass and winked. “Now, be a good girl and get back on that table before the doctor comes in.” 

“And here I thought we were having a sweet moment,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. Some of the tension had bled out of his shoulders, but he was tapping his heel again. Placing a hand on his knee to stop it, you leaned down to press your lips to his forehead. Jake tilted his head back, eyes focused on your mouth until you smiled and kissed him. “You know,” you sighed against his lips, “I found something last night that helped settle my stomach while you were at work.”

“What?” 

Taking a step back, you smirked, “Crackers dipped in applesauce. Perfect snack to eat in bed.” Jake’s jaw ticked as he stood, towering over you and making you grin. 

“You were eating crackers in bed?” He took a step forward, forcing you to take one back as you nodded. “You know how I feel about that.” 

“You’d deprive your poor, pregnant girlfriend - ”

“Fiancée.” Another step forward. Another step back.

“- The one thing that I can keep down just because you’re worried about some crumbs?” Jake lifted you onto the exam table and stood between your legs. 

“Darlin’, I’m drawing a hard line at anything that leaves crumbs. Applesauce, ice cream, coffee - whatever. I can deal with it if I have to while you’re pregnant. But crumbs in the sheets are a dealbreaker.” 

“Can I get that in writing?” 

“As soon as we’re home.” You extended your hand, which he looked at before shaking his head and kissing you. “Why do I feel like I just got manipulated?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Hangman,” you laughed, only stopping when there was a knock on the door. 

“Hi, I’m Dr. Shearer,” the woman said, peeking her head around the door. “Are you ready for me?” You nodded as Jake shifted to lean against the exam table beside you and quickly introduced yourself.

“And this is my fiancé, Jake.” 

“Nice to meet you both,” she replied, setting her laptop on the counter and sitting on the stool. “So, I understand that you had a trip to the ED that confirmed a pregnancy?” 

“I did. I, um, had a vasovagal syncope at work, and turns out I’m pregnant, which might have been the cause.”

“Okay,” Dr. Shearer nodded, eyebrows furrowing. “Have you had any since that one?”

“No. I’ve had a couple of dizzy spells but no fainting.”

“Alright. Mind if I do a quick exam?” she asked, and when you agreed, she quickly cleaned her hands and took the stethoscope from around her neck. Jake retreated to the chair, the tension you’d managed to distract him from back in his shoulders. After checking your heart and lungs, she had you lay back and lift your shirt to palpate your abdomen. “Your heart’s beating a little fast. Are you nervous?” 

“A little.”

“We’ll make this as painless as possible. Once I get both of your medical histories, we’ll go ahead and do an ultrasound to see if we can figure out how far along you are.” 

It was surprising to hear how many medical issues were in both of your families - from smaller things like Jake’s mother’s asthma to your struggles with depression in college after your dad’s cancer diagnosis and switching majors. You guessed that your last period was a month ago and gave a list of all the medications you took. Finally, it was your turn to ask questions.

“Is there any concern with me being around jet fuel?” you asked, spinning your engagement ring to try and soothe your anxiety. Internally, you berated yourself for not already looking into it - if your dad’s cancer was possibly connected to it, there’s no saying what it could do to a pregnancy. 

“Are you handling fuel?”

“No, but I go on the flight line, and he’s a pilot.” 

“Some research has shown that exposure to jet fuel particles can impact a pregnancy - specifically premature birth.” Jake squeezed your hand when you inhaled sharply, and Dr. Shearer smiled reassuringly. “I’ve worked with a lot of women who work around planes, and they’ve had perfectly normal, healthy pregnancies. We’ll closely monitor everything and make adjustments as needed.”

“She’s been really sick, not just in the morning but all day. The doctor at the ER said she might have hypo-something.”

“Hyperemesis gravidarum? Okay,” Dr. Shearer frowned. “What do you mean by ‘really sick’?” You told her about feeling constantly nauseous even though the medication helped you not vomit and confirmed that you were always tired. After a few more questions, she wasn’t sure if you met the diagnostic criteria. Still, she wrote another prescription for the nausea medication. She repeated the emergency room doctor's warning about getting medical assistance if things got worse. 

After confirming that you didn’t have any more questions - “for now,” Jake added - she handed you a sheet and let you know that the ultrasound tech would be in shortly. When she left, you removed your pants and underwear, folding them neatly on one of the chairs. 

“Ready?” you asked once seated on the exam table with the sheet across your legs. Jake took your hand and pressed his lips to your fingertips. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Smiling nervously, you tilted your chin up, and he leaned down to kiss you. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you, too.” Your heart skipped a beat at the knock on the door, and a woman stepped inside. Quickly, she introduced herself as Amanda and explained the transvaginal ultrasound while pulling out the stirrups from the bed. As you settled into them, taking deep breaths to stay calm, Jake squeezed your hand.

“Alright,” Amanda said, tearing open a condom and rolling it onto the probe. “Almost ready.”

“Haven’t seen one of those in a while,” Jake whispered in your ear under the guise of kissing your temple. You had to press your lips together to keep from laughing, trying to ignore the pop of a cap opening. 

“Okay, knees apart, and I’m placing my hand on your thigh. Take a deep breath for me and…” Everyone’s eyes flit to the monitor, trying to decipher the grey image. There was a black spot, and the probe was shifted back and forth for a moment before settling. “So it looks like we have one sac right…here.” Smiling, she gestured to a dark spot on the screen and took a few pictures.

“So just one baby?” you asked. Jake’s breath was hot against your fingers as his hand shook in yours. 

“Yup, it looks like there's only one in there.”

“Thank god,” he muttered. Amanda smiled and tilted the screen towards you both.

“And right here - see that little flickering? That’s the beginning of your baby’s heartbeat.” 

“That’s tiny.” The awe was apparent in Jake’s voice, and you had to swallow hard against the lump in your throat as a tear slipped from your eyes. 

“They’re about the size of a small blueberry right now. Or a coffee bean. And it looks like they’re measuring about six or seven weeks.” 

“Six or… but I had my period a month ago.”

“You probably had what’s called implantation bleeding when this little one attached to your uterine lining.” A low chuckle drew your attention, and Jake gently wiped away the tears zigzagging towards your hair. 

“Miramar was seven weeks ago.” Red stained your cheeks as his grin grew. “We made a TOPGUN baby, darlin’.” 

“I want this one,” Jake said, gently tearing off the bottom sonogram from the strip. He stared at it for a long moment before slipping it into the chest pocket just above his heart. Carefully, you tucked the rest into your purse before leaning back against your car door. 

“I can’t believe we’re gonna have a Valentine’s Day baby.” 

“Seems right,” he grinned, stepping closer to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Conceived on our anniversary, born around Valentine’s Day.” 

“Who would have thought this would happen when I bought those tickets to surprise you?” you smirked. Chuckling, he kissed you while his knuckle lightly stroked your lower stomach. “I wish you didn’t have to go to work,” you sighed against his lips. 

“Me too, darlin’. Just a couple more days of mids, then we’ll be back to normal.” 

“Can’t wait.” Closing your eyes, you wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his chest. He lightly ran his hand up and down your back. 

“I’m gonna be late.”

“Fine,” you huffed, letting him go. After kissing your forehead, he gently broke your grip and lifted your hands to brush his mouth to your knuckles. Smiling, he dropped to a knee and held your hips as he pressed his lips to your stomach. 

“Be good to Mama, Bean,” he said softly. Sniffling, you ran your fingers through his hair and blinked back tears. 

“Bean?” 

“Amanda said they were as big as a coffee bean,” he shrugged while standing up. 

“So, are you going to change what you call them every week?”

“Until we find out if they’re our baby girl or little man.” 

“Do you have a preference?” 

“No, but aviators have girls.” 

“What?” you frowned. 

“Yeah - common knowledge. Most aviators have daughters.” 

“That sounds like an urban legend.” 

“I guess we’ll see,” he smirked. After opening your car door, he kissed you again. “I’ll see you tonight, darlin’.” 

“Fly safe, Daddy. Bean and I’ll be waiting at home.” The grin he gave you was blinding as he leaned down to kiss you one final time before closing the door and walking across the parking lot to his truck. 

Jake stared at the email, trying to make sense of the words on the screen. 

A deployment alert from Admiral Tritz, and an order to stop by his office to discuss it.

“What the fuck,” he muttered. Quickly, he pulled out his phone and texted Phoenix, the only other Dagger in his Carrier Air Wing (CVW). 

Did you get a deployment alert?

As he waited for her response, Jake paced his small office. There hadn’t been any rumblings of the wing gearing up - they weren’t due for another deployment until next year. It was CVW Two’s turn to go out to sea - the Bounty Hunters and Stingers had been notified about the deployment on the Carl Vinson about five months ago.  

No, but Rooster and Mav did. 

Fuck. If they were pulling those two from TOPGUN, especially when Rooster was in the middle of a PCS, then higher-ups were cherry-picking pilots. A glance at his watch showed that it was almost five, but he couldn’t wait. Hurrying down the hall, he caught sight of Tritz stepping out of his office. “Sir!” he called.

Tritz turned around, lips pressed into a thin line as Jake jogged towards him. “Hangman.”

“Sir,” Jake replied, snapping him a salute. “I just got your email.” 

“Right.” The older man looked at his watch before motioning back towards his office. “Let’s talk.” Heart in his throat, Jake followed him and stood at attention in front of the admiral’s desk. “At ease, Hangman.” Taking a breath, he relaxed his stance, shaking hands crossed in the small of his back. “Is your girlfriend doing well?”

“Fiancée, actually, sir. And yeah, she’s feeling better.” 

“Congratulations. And that’s good to hear.”

“Thank you, sir.” Tritz sighed and sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “I’m sorry for the short notice with the alert, but I was just informed about the critical shortage this morning. The Carl Vinson is down three pilots after the weekend.” The post-Fourth of July safety briefing had mentioned a few incidents, and there’d been some whispers of a car full of young pilots being involved in an accident while drunk. It seems like they were right. “Admiral Compton’s requested replacements, and we’re pulling some of our best for the multinational exercise, especially with rising tensions in the region.”

“Sir… is this an alert or an activation?”

“Activation orders will be in your inbox by the end of the week, Hangman.” Jake clenched his jaw, feeling as though he’d been punched in the gut. 

“How long is the deployment?”

“Six months, maybe seven depending on conditions.” 

“When…?” he forced the word out.

“You’ll head down to San Diego in six weeks, then go underway the following week.” Bile rose in his throat, and Jake swallowed hard against the tears pricking his eyes.

“P-permission to speak freely, sir?” 

“Granted,” Tritz nodded.

“Sir, m-my fiancée’s pregnant. We just found out last week - that’s why I took her to the hospital. We were at the doctor’s office this afternoon confirming it.” His hand itched to cover the sonogram in his chest pocket, where his racing heart thumped against the first picture of his baby.

“Oh. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir. It’s just…” Tritz sighed, running a hand down his face. 

“The wheels are already in motion. I’m sorry, Hangman, I truly am.”

“It’s just… I’ll miss everything. The earliest I’ll be back is the week after her due date.”

“I need someone who is mission-ready, and you’re it. Compton wants a show of force, so he’s getting two TOPGUN instructors to make sure everyone’s up to snuff. You’ve been helping train the Fleet Replacement, so you’ve logged more flight hours than most this month. And that’s not taking into account your record. He wants my best, and you’re it, Hangman.”

“Please - ”

“My answer is final, Lieutenant.” 

“Yes, sir,” Jake said through clenched teeth. It took every inch of self-control to stay professional and not continue to argue. Tritz seemed to realize this and stood, palms resting on his desk as he hung his head.

“For what it’s worth, this is the last thing I needed before submitting your name to the selection board. I expect by the time you’re home, you’ll be approved to pin on that oak leaf.” 

It was on the tip of his tongue to say fuck the promotion, but Jake forced himself to swallow the words. Becoming a Lieutenant Commander was a cold comfort in the face of being away from his family when they needed him. “Thank you, sir.”

Tritz sighed heavily. “Go home, Hangman. Talk to your fiancée. I’ll let Kennedy know you won’t be on maneuvers tonight.” Jake nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat at the idea of telling you. When Tritz waved his hand to dismiss him, Jake snapped a quick salute and turned on his heel. As he was about to close the door, the admiral called out. “Seresin? In my experience, the first kid is always late. I’ll keep you and your fiancée in my prayers that it holds true for you.”

With a nod, Jake closed the door and trudged back into his office, collapsing into his chair and dropping his head into his hands. He dug his palms into his eyes, trying to force back the tears that threatened to fall as he breathed slowly.

Jake wasn’t a violent man, regardless of what his kill count was. He’d seen his mother cower in the face of his father’s drunken rage, even stepping between them the one time his mom had commented on him being out late - not even mentioning the lipstick stain on his neck - when he’d raised his hand to her. That had earned him a split lip and a dressing down from both parents, but it’d been worth it.

But at that moment? Facing a deployment that would mean he’d miss the birth of his first child… not being there for you throughout the pregnancy… he wanted to hit something and release the scream trapped in his throat.

Blindly, he tugged at the pocket zipper and pulled out the sonogram. Tracing his finger along the small image of Bean, the first hot tear slid down his cheek. 

You froze at the sound of the garage door opening. Frowning, you leaned forward to set your bowl of applesauce and crackers on the coffee table and your laptop on the couch, research on the connection between jet fuel and premature birth open across multiple tabs. The familiar rumbling of Jake’s truck filled the garage, and you glanced at your watch. It was way too early for him to be getting home - just before 7:00PM. The engine cut off as you made your way to the kitchen to lean against the counter. It took another five minutes before the garage door creaked shut, and the door opened. “You’re home early,” you said, smile slowly fading once you caught sight of his face. His green eyes were red-rimmed, lips pressed into a thin line. “Jake?”

“Darlin’... I…” His voice was hoarse, as though he’d been shouting.

“What?” you demanded, heart racing as you pushed off the counter and took a cautious step towards him. “What happened?” He pulled you into his chest, burying his face in your hair. He tensed as you wrapped your arms around him, rubbing a hand up and down his back, feeling the barely restrained trembling. “Jake, you’re scaring me.” 

“I’m deploying.” You inhaled sharply as he fell to his knees in front of you, pushing up the shirt you’d stolen from his drawer. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his lips grazing your stomach. Heart in your throat, you threaded your fingers through his hair and lightly tugged so he looked up at you. Tears pricked your eyes at his stricken expression.

“How long?”

“Six months.” The silence was deafening as you stared at him, unable to stop the tears from falling.

“W-when?” 

“Six weeks.” The room spun as your mouth flooded with saliva. Quickly, you turned on your heel and bolted towards the guest bathroom, slamming the door and flicking the lock shut. The doorknob rattled as you fell to your knees in front of the toilet. Jake’s fist pounded on the door, begging you to unlock it. 

Holding your hair back with an arm wrapped tightly around your stomach, you vomited the little food you’d managed to keep down. Your sobs echoed in the bathroom. Jake pressed his forehead to the wood on the other side of the door and closed his eyes, jaw ticking as he swallowed his own tears. “Darlin’, please,” he said once the toilet flushed. But you made no effort to unlock the door. 

Eventually, he sat down, back pressed against it. Drawing his knees up, he pinched the bridge of his nose while listening to you cry. 

He’d never hated his job more. 

When he hadn’t heard a sound for more than thirty minutes, Jake went to the garage and retrieved a screwdriver and a pair of pliers. Getting the doorknob off and unlocking the door took a few minutes. Pushing it open, he saw you sitting on the edge of the tub, head in your hands. The clink of the tools on the counter made you look up. Your lower lip wobbled when you met his gaze, and you inhaled sharply. “Jake,” you whimpered.

“I know,” he sighed. “I know.” Kneeling, he pulled you into his arms and kissed your temple. “I’m so sorry, darlin’.” 

“I can’t do this without you.” 

“Yes, you can. You’re so strong, sweetheart. You and Bean are gonna be just fine.” You moved onto his lap, knees pressed into the cold floor as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

‘You’re going to miss everything.” He sighed, slipping a hand under the back of your shirt to rub soothing circles on your skin.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Shaking your head, you pulled away enough to look at him. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes as he reached up to wipe away yours. With trembling hands, you reached up to smooth back his disheveled hair and cup his cheek. 

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Jake audibly swallowed and rolled his lips together, blinking hard to keep from crying. “We’re going to miss you so fucking much.” 

At that, he felt his heart break as he buried his face in your neck, his tears dampening the collar of your shirt.

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

Author's Note: I hurt my own feelings with this one, even knowing what was coming. Thanks for being patient with me as I struggled with writing this chapter. It was more fun writing Jake's POV of finding out that Darlin' is pregnant. If you have any scenes I haven't covered, or any questions about the story, feel free to send them in!

On a different note, I want to thank everyone for their support of this story. However, I have noticed that some folks are not respecting the 18+ indicator. Last week, I blocked a blog that is 15 years old. It is against both my personal and professional values to have younger readers like that. I posted about a week ago that I would be going through and purging folks that are underage. I haven't had a chance to do so yet, but I will be dedicating some time over the next week. Please take a moment to indicated your age in your blog header - this is in line with other authors that I've seen on this platform (and with a friend who had someone attempt to dox her for fandom drama).

I appreciate your help with this, and thanks for reading!

Read Chapter 13

Tag list: @memeorydotcom; @alldaysdreamers; @kmc1989; @djs8891; @caitsymichelle13; @dempy; @midnightmagpiemama; @lovelyladymayyyy; @caidi-paris; @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby; @bellaireland1981; @lethargicluv; @mayhemmanaged; @tenderclio; @lucypaulette; @abaker74; @trhett21; @misshoneypaper; @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker; @eternallyvenus; @mavrellover91; @chloeforde; @thatbitcily; @rest-of-brazilian-wax; @percysaidnever; @harperdoodle; @hardballoonlove; @maeleeme; @emma8895eb; @xoxabs88xox

[knowiloveyoubabe]

Beautiful Baker Boy

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: fluffyyyyy Summary: Beautiful baker boy meets lovely florist (gender neutral Y/N)

The summer sun bore down on Y/N’s back as they bent over the outside display, silently cursing the lack of clouds in the sky. They rub the back of their neck, where the blistering beam had strangely focused, gently moving around a few bouquets with their other hand. 

They step back, hands on their hips, slowly scanning the small display in front of the tiny flower shop.

“That’ll do, I guess.” They mutter to themself, using the back of their hand to wipe some sweat that had started to collect on their hairline. 

“Y/N, darling!” Their elderly boss, the shop owner, calls out for them from inside the store. 

“Coming!” Y/N hurries inside, their mind still on the flower display.

“I’m heading out soon, love. I don’t want to be late meeting the missus, I still have to swing by the bakery!” His wrinkles become more prominent as he smiles, wiping his hands on the apron wrapped around his waist. Y/N’s hand found its way over their heart as their own smile grew.

“Will you be okay on your own for the rest of the day?” He asks, removing his apron and reaching for the special bouquet he had arranged for his wife of over four decades. Y/N nods their head, smile beaming.

“Of course! Don’t worry about me, you trained me, remember?” They brush their sweat-dampened hair out of their face, admiring their mentor and the love he had for his wife.

“I know, darlin’. Thank you,” His smile lines deepened along with his crows feet as he pats them on the shoulder, nursing the bouquet with his other arm. He nods his head at them, “See you tomorrow!”

“Alright, have fun!” Y/N calls out after him as the door shuts behind him with a ding of the bell. 

Soon after their boss left, the day fell into a bit of a lull. They got a few things done around the shop, helped a few customers, all in an attempt to avoid the behemoth task of organizing the flowers in the back room. But the minutes ticked away like hours and Y/N felt as though the boredom would soon drive them crazy. They groaned as they got up off of the stool behind the cash register and dipped into the doorless back room where they began sorting out the orders. Y/N had barely made a dent in the work that needed to be done before they peeked at the time, noticing it was almost time to close up shop.

“Hello?” Y/N heard a familiar voice from the front, confused as to how they didn’t hear the bell signaling that someone was entering the shop. They peek their head out of the room to catch a glimpse, their heart jumping to their throat when they see the back of the customer's curly head. 

Oh God. Panic set in when they realized who the sultry voice belonged to.

It was Harry, the beautiful baker boy who worked just across the street. Y/N had developed an almost delusional crush, Harry having made many an appearance in their maladaptive daydreams during the slower days at the flower shop. Since the first day they met, Y/N hadn’t been able to get him out of their head. So one would think that they’d be prepared for his weekly visit to the flower shop. “Coming!” Their voice cracking, deepening the blush already settling on their cheeks. They pray that they look somewhat presentable when they leave the back room, their eyes instantly meeting with his. 

“Hey, Y/N.” He smiles, his lovely green eyes scanning their face. 

“H-Hey, Harry.” Y\N wipes their sweaty palms on their apron, trying not to stare at the tattoos on his tanned arms. “Already time for your weekly bouquet?”

Harry chuckles, nodding and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I just closed the bakery, thought I could also drop off some of these.” He reaches into his large tote bag, pulling out a brown paper bag. The smell of freshly baked bread and parmesan cheese filled the air in the tiny shop as Harry placed the bag on the counter next to the register.

“Cheese buns.” Y/N says breathily, unable to hide the smile spreading on their face.

“Your favorite!” Harry’s dimple deepens as his smile widens. Y/N’s heart raced in their chest.

“You remembered?” 

“Of course, it was one of the first things you said to me.” A slight blush appears on the beautiful man's cheeks as he nudges Y/N’s shoulder. They both laugh lightly as they recall Y/N fumbling over their words as they ordered from the bakery for the first time. The cute boy behind the counter had been wearing a sleeveless shirt with a bandana in his hair, flour on his face and arms, and a dimpled smile. 

Y/N shook the image from their head, worried they’d embarrass themself even more.

“You gonna look around?” They changed the subject quickly, clearing their throat. Harry nods, putting his tote down on the counter next to the bag of cheese buns. 

“Yeah, but please, don’t let me get in your way.” He lays a gentle hand on Y/N’s arm, sending a chill through their body. 

“You’re never in the way.” Y/N spoke softly, biting at the skin on the inside of their cheek. Harry’s lips parted slightly, almost as though he was about to say something before clearing his throat abruptly and smiling, a faint blush appearing on his tanned cheeks. 

“I-I should close up the shop.” Y/N looks away from his gaze, trying not to lean into the warmth radiating from his body.

He gently squeezes their arm before releasing his soft grip, allowing them to maneuver around him, to the front of the shop. 

Y/N brought the display inside, cleaned up, and stored everything where it belonged, all while watching Harry from the corner of their eye. 

“Alright, I think I’ve finished.” Harry announces as Y/N finishes up the last of their tasks. They meet him at the register, catching a glimpse at the beautifully curated bouquet.

“Sunflowers, white spray roses, yellow billy balls, and mini hydrangeas.” He lists off each flower in the bouquet. 

“Woah, look at you! You should be the one working here.” Y/N giggles. Harry follows suit, their giggles filling the small shop. Harry hands Y/N the bouquet as they joke about how funny it would be if they switched places, Y/N at the bakery and Harry at the flower shop, discussing the disasters that would ensue. As Y/N sorted through the bouquet, wrapping it up in the nicest brown paper in the shop, a realization hit them.

“Wait, Harry,” Their eyebrows furrow, turning to face him, “These flowers, they’re my-”

“Your favorites.” He bit his lip, picking at his nails nervously. 

“My favorites.” Y/N repeats breathlessly. Harry rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, both of their bodies unmoving.

“Your partner is really lucky.” Y/N says, smiling thinly and inhaling sharply, turning back to the task at hand. Their hands shook as they attempted to tie the twine around the wrapped bouquet, their brain on overdrive. Their mind was so loud, they barely heard the shuffle of Harry’s feet as he got closer, towering behind them.

“I don’t have a partner.” He whispers, barely loud enough for Y/N’s ears. Their body stills, as does the air surrounding the two. The silence between them thickened, the tension swelled.

“You don’t have a partner.” Y/N cuts through the silence, not daring to turn around. Harry’s hand cupped their elbow, tugging lightly, almost begging them to turn around and face him. Y/N hesitated, terrified that he may hear their heart pounding against their chest. 

“Y/N…” His voice soft and deep, beckoned them to face him. Y/N inhaled deeply, slowly spinning around, Harry’s hand still cradling their elbow. Their eyes meet, the tension becoming heavier as Harry licks his lips, parting them. 

“Can I kiss you?” He rasps, his eyes trailing down to their lips. Y/N wasn’t sure if they couldn’t find the words or if they were just unable to speak, nodding their head, entranced. Harry released a sharp breath before his other hand found its way to Y/N’s jaw, pulling them closer, his lips meeting theirs. Y/N snapped out of their trance, wrapping their arms around Harry’s neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. There was a hunger between them, one they were unaware was present in the other. Soft hands pulled and caressed as they released the pent up tension. It seemed as though they were the only two in existence, Harry held Y/N like they could disappear without a trace any second now. 

Tap Tap Tap

Startled, they release their grip on one another, Y/N’s face whipping in the direction of the person tapping on the glass door of the shop. A middle aged man with brows furrowed and an annoyed look stood beyond the glass, a hand on his hip. 

“Excuse me, are you open?” He yelled through the glass. Harry snickered, used to the irritable side of the service industry. Y/N groaned, signaling no to the man.

“No, we’re closed!” They exclaim, tapping their wrist with their finger, as if they were tapping a watch. The man on the other side of the glass huffs in frustration, rolling his eyes and walking away.

“Cockblocked by the service industry, damn you capitalism.” Harry giggles, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. They laugh, their hands finding their way to his arms as Harry dips his face closer, laying a gentle kiss on the top of their head. 

“Let me take you to dinner,” He mumbles in their hair, “I’ve been dying to take you out.” He pulls back, looking at their face. Y/N bites their lip, nodding, in stark disbelief that this is happening. Harry smiles, grabbing the finished bouquet and placing it in Y/N’s hands, leaning in and laying a sweet kiss on their lips.

“Wow, I’ve got a date with the beautiful baker boy.” Y/N mutters against his lips, causing him to smile and bump their nose with his.

“And I’ve got a date with the lovely florist.”

[abstractdiagram]

I’ve reformatted chapter four three times now to get it to Ao3 with my italics intact. I’m not going through it a fourth time. So stuff for Harry thinking to himself should be italicized but I’m not doing it here. Please see Ao3 for correctness. That being said. Holy forking shirtballs! This one is loooooooong. But we leave the hospital and meet more people and use more magic. So yay!!

Love you darlins!!!! Leave me comments and kudos so I keep wanting to write for people!

Chapter 4

It took three days for Dippet to get in touch with Harry, which pissed him off slightly. It wasn’t that the hospital wasn’t nice. The food was decent once they let him have any; they’d started so slowly with what he could have “‘cause, ye ‘aven’ been eatin’ in four months an’ yer body don’ likely know what t’ do wi’ food, ye ken?” The nurses were nice enough - Meranda especially took extra time with him and the older night nurse made sure to refill his water and check in on him she her shift started before “leaving you to your rest dear.”

It was Thursday night and Meranda had told him it’d be a colder one so he was tucked in under his blankets on his side with his long legs curled up. The tap-tap-tap on the window first registered as Aunt Petunia’s thud-thud-thudding on his cupboard door and he groggily hunkered under his pillow. Tap-tap-tap. “It’s too early for breakfast” he muttered. Finally the owl outside let out a short but loud and frustrated HOOT before he startled awake. His wand was in his hand before he finished sitting up and he huffed when he saw the feathered silhouette. It held its leg up as if to say “take the damn thing and let me go hunt you wholloping great tosser.” Or maybe that was just Harry’s mood after waiting for so long and dreaming that he was back under the stairs.

The window opened, surprisingly. Maybe because I’m in a storage room? No hospital he knew, including St. Mungo’s had windows that could open at any rate. “I don’t have any treats. I’m sorry. But this is a muggle hospital and I’m a patient. They’re not generally equipped for owls.” Harry untied the letter and the owl fluffed itself indignantly before taking off. The light whap of its wing against his head telling Harry without doubt that the owl was displeased. “Oh, sod off you feathery git!” The owl, though out of sight, was not too distant to hoot back with a distinct air of “bite me, magic boy.”

Great. Arguing with and losing to an owl. Just great. Harry closed the window, turned on the bedside lamp and settled to read. The script was a spidery slant written on parchment with the Hogwarts crest and motto across the top.

“Dear Mr. Shelby,

We must say, we were quite shocked to receive a corporeal Patronus from so great a distance sent by such an as-yet-unknown and young wizard. As such we took our time to do our due diligence in researching you and your circumstances before reaching out in response.

We are saddened to learn of your situation - we send deep condolences for your losses - and wish to express the reassurance that had we been aware of your family’s entrance to the country we would have extended a thorough and warm welcome. As it is, we wish to extend to you this welcome at this time.

Please note that a representative will be making himself known to you and the Muggle Caregivers at Whitchurch on September 22nd, 1944 at ten in the morning. Also be advised that you should have your things ready to depart. The representative will be bringing you to Wizarding London to the Ministry of Magic for evaluation and planning for the future. This is not a formal matter, but a way to assess your needs and what help can be provided in what ways.

We look forward to joining you and our representative at the Ministry on September 22nd.

Sincerely,

Headmaster Armando Dippet”

The 22nd. Today. I’ll be getting out of here today! Harry was excited by this aspect but also newly worried. He’d expected to be whisked away right to Hogwarts given his age and orphan status but this letter made it seem like he’d have to answer questions and complete evaluations before perhaps never even setting foot in the school. Well then. He’d just have to play along and give the answers that would get him to Hogwarts.

Why he wanted to go back to the castle so badly he wasn’t entirely sure. Mostly to help himself become grounded in this new body and new time frame in a familiar setting. Maybe a bit to put off having to re-enter adulthood in what was admittedly a semi-daunting situation. But mostly to reorient himself and get a better grip on his new life he told himself.

When Meranda came in early that morning he told her that he’d be leaving. She was shocked and concerned, “Bu’ ‘Arry, ye’ve no’ got yer strength back! And where’d ye be goin’ wi’ who?” He felt guilty about lying to her but the story he wove about a distant relative discovering him and coming to take him to a hospital nearer his family members - helped a tad by a Confundus charm that he felt absolutely gutted to have had to do - mollified her quickly and she gave him a long hug. She left soon after to fetch him some toast and he winced when she bounced her shoulder off the door frame as she went. “Oops!” She laughed to herself as she walked down the hall. “Didn’ see tha’ comin’ did I?”

When ten o’clock came he was wearing grey trousers that were too big at the waist and a white cotton undershirt that Meranda promised had “been washed enou’ ye can’ tell they were a right mess when ye came in.” -Dudley’s duds all over again these pants are. Ah well. It’s better than meeting a representative in an arseless hospital drape.

A double knock sounded and the door opened. Harry’s jaw almost dropped but he schooled himself into lesser shock as the man entered.

“Professor Albus Dumbledore, pleased to meet you Nathaniel.” He was so much younger than Dumbledore Harry knew. This Dumbledore had greying hair and beard but not nearly as long. And he wasn’t dressed in robes but a smart muggle suit. He shook his head to jostle his brain into gear before extending a hand to meet the one Dumbledore was extending as he crossed the small room.

“Nice to m-meet you professor. But you can call me ‘Harry’ please. Sir. From my middle name.”

“Right, right my boy. Harry then. Well. Have you gathered your things?” He looked around expectantly.

Harry raised the paper bag containing the wands and other things he’d yet to properly go through. “Here sir. Not much I’m afraid.”

“Ah; of course of course. Well. We will have time to remedy that when we get to London. Here, drink this up. And this one too.” He pulled first one potion vial and then a second from the suit coat pockets.

Harry took them without hesitation; he trusted Dumbledore not to poison him. He caught the bemused look in the older man’s eyes as he gulped them down though. He supposed he had just showed some quality or characteristic that would surely be tucked away and evaluated by that brilliant mind and he winced inwardly. He probably should have been more wary. After all, he was supposed to have no idea who this man was, much less trust anything from a Wizarding world he was not supposed to be very familiar with. Too late now. As it turned out it was a variation of a Pepperup potion and a Strengthening Solution. Harry felt instantly less fatigued and much more able to face the coming ministry interrogation.

“Thank you sir.” Harry was ready. He stood and crammed his feet into the shoes Meranda had brought. “My brother’s. ‘E… well. ‘E don’ need ‘em and ye do, righ’?” Her momentarily melancholy made her eyes glossy with tears and he realized that her brother must have also died in the muggle war. Before he could say anything she had chirped brightly that she’d be back to see him off and hurried out the door.

He grabbed his bag and Dumbledore led the way out into the hall. It felt odd to be walking and he knew he probably shouldn’t be able to do so yet without the vials he had been given. Thank Merlin for magic.

They stopped at a desk that sat at the junction of three hallways and Dr. Basil tottered around it to shake Harry’s hand. He didn’t seem too perturbed by Harry’s newfound strength. In fact, Harry was almost sure he heard the doctor mumble “Goodbye Daniel” instead of “Nathaniel” and he cast a side-eye at Dumbledore who was picking through a small dish of wrapped taffies.

They were almost out the door before rapid footsteps behind them made Harry pause. When he turned he smiled to see Meranda headed his way. She had a small knapsack with her and she pushed it into his hands. “I nipped down ‘ome on m’ break. ‘Ts no’ much bu’ is more than ye ‘ad. Don’ open it ‘ere. ‘M no’ sposed t’ give th’ patients things, ye ken?” Harry took closed the distance between them and wrapped her in a hug. She was shorter than him and rested her cheek briefly to his chest. “‘M no’ sposed t’ do tha’ neither.” She said when she pulled away.” She smiled at him and took two backwards steps away before turning from them, calling over his shoulder. “Lovely t’ ‘ave met ye ‘Arry! Keep gettin’ well, yeah?”

He had to wipe his eyes as he too turned back and, settling the knapsack’s strap over his shoulder he started back to the exit. Dumbledore watched quietly and said, “You’ve made a friend. Lovely young woman, I’m sure.”

“Yes sir. She is.” He spoke quietly and stared down at the floor. Less than a week he’d known her but he knew she’d be in his memories forever.

Once they stepped out into the blustery morning Dumbledore took the lead. They headed for the car park and Harry momentarily wondered if he had driven a muggle car to pick Harry up. He was quickly dissolved of that notion when they stepped around a corner to an unobserved patch of grass. Fumbling through his pockets Dumbledore muttered to himself, “now where did that portkey go… where is it.. aha!” He pulled a paper clip from his trousers. “Now, you hold this tight. We took a bit longer to exit than I had planned so any second now we’ll be - oh ho!” The hook-behind-navel feeling yanked into him and the hospital and grounds spun away.

They popped to in an alley full of bins of rubbish, startling a scraggly tabby cat that bolted under an upturned carton. Harry didn’t stumble, long ago having got used to portkey travel. Again, Dumbledore seemed to be filing that information away somewhere.

“This way my boy.” Dumbledore strolled down the alley in his suit and shined shoes looking for all the world like he was entering an office and not traipsing through old cabbage leaves and detritus. They stopped at the corner of the alley. There was a half brick wall here, jagged and showing that it hadn’t -always- been a half wall but part of a building. A wooden door was hanging crookedly ajar in its frame and Harry could see that there was nothing on the other side of it but an empty room. Without hesitation Dumbledore clapped a hand on his shoulder and led them through the door and into

“The Ministry of Magic! We have a meeting with a few minor officials to settle what will be done with your situation. This way.” Harry followed the hand still on his shoulder. He didn’t see anything familiar; it was too crowded and it was noisy and he was moving too fast until they stood before the golden grille of the lifts. “Minister Spencer-Moon, of course, won’t be part of this little meeting. Just myself, the headmaster of Hogwarts, whom you seem to know of, and maybe two or three others from different departments invested in keeping Wizarding youth out of harms way.”

Harry almost snorted. Out of harm’s way. That’s rich considering what happened to Nathaniel and his family. And what happened at Hogwarts every year I attended. And how the Dursley’s treated me while I was there. And Tom Riddle’s whole existence. And Circe knows how many dozens or hundreds of others they don’t and never will know of.

When the lift stopped they got out into a hallway he’d never seen before. There was less foot traffic here and it was quieter. They entered a room a few doors down and everyone rose to shake Harry’s hand.

“Headmaster Armando Dippet of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy.” introduced himself first before sitting at the far end of the table.

A squat witch with a crooked smile was next. “Dorietta Thomas. I’m from the Introduction and Reintegration department. I’ll be assessing what type of help you may need to get settled into your new world.” She sat to the left side.

A very tall, painfully skinny middle-aged man with a wheezy voice shook Harry’s hand next. “Ignatious Hornwald.” He gave no title or clue as to what he was there for but Harry shivered as the man stepped away and took his seat on the right, nearest the back corner as he could get. An Unspeakable maybe? Why?

Last but not least was a woman who sounded like what he imagined a poodle would sound like if it could talk. French accented and almost a barking voice. As kind as he was sure she was trying to be, it still sounded like an irritated dog was yapping at him. She was “Belinda Strongholm. I’m just taking notes.” When she sat she rested her hands on a stack of blank parchment and readied her quill and ink. She sat on the same side as Mr. Hornwald had, but much closer to Harry, almost as if she didn’t want to be near the skeletal man. When Dumbledore took his seat next to Dorietta, Harry was left at the last spot at the head of the table.

He sat and tried to not squirm uncomfortably. He may look seventeen but he was a twenty-five year old Auror and these men and women didn’t scare him. Ri-ight they don’t.

“Mr. Shelby -“ Professor Dippet started.

“Harry please. Just Harry.” He interjected. He wasn’t sure he could sit through the whole meeting being called “Mr. Shelby.”

“Harry. If you could please state your name and date of birth?”

Belinda’s quill scritched quietly as he recited “Nathaniel Harrison Shelby. January 3rd, 1927. And before you ask: my mother and father and I lived in Cardiff. We were surprised when shelling from the muggle war came to town. They were killed. I was found and taken to a muggle hospital in Cardiff where I have remained unconscious since May until a few days ago.” He looked at each of them in turn as he spoke but avoided meeting the eyes of Mr. Hornwald. He felt an odd slow skittering sensation in his mind. Like a spider trying to tickle its way into his brain. Harry threw up his Occlumency shields at once. He’d been practicing for years, both during and after his school years. Once his teacher no longer actively hated him, he found that he was quite good at sussing out when Legillimency was being directed at him and blocking it out. Hornwald sat back abruptly but minutely in his chair and Harry knew he was right - the man was Unspeakable and probably there to ascertain how much, if any, threat Harry posed. Harry sent a brief smirk towards the man. No, you don’t. Not to me.

No one else seemed to notice and Dippet carried on.

“How is it that you have never been to Hogwarts, or any other wizarding school, given your age?”

Harry paused a moment, listening to the memory whisper. “I was homeschooled. We moved around too often and my folks were adamant that I could learn as much as I needed with a mixed muggle and wizard education. I attended muggle schools throughout the years, sporadically but I did well enough that were I so inclined I could have graduated secondary school. I am proficient enough in the areas of magic that my parents always said were ‘main curriculum’ for testing students.” Here he injected his own ideas on the matter. “Having been unconscious for months, and waking up to no home, no immediate family and no prospects in either the muggle or Wizarding world I reached out to Professor – Headmaster I mean - Dippet as his was a name I had heard from my parents in passing as being someone of note and ability to ‘help sort things out’ as it were.”

Belinda took down his every word. Dorietta looked misty-eyed at his semi-sob story, as did Dippet. Hornwald and Dumbledore stared at him as if waiting for The Truth or some such was to be forthcoming. Harry resisted the urge to smirk again.

Dorietta spoke but her voice was thick and she had to cough a little to clear it. “Ha- *cough* Harry. You’ve been exposed to various magics throughout your childhood and teens as you say. Do you have a wand and is it present?”

He reached a hand under his shirt to pull his holly wand from his waistband. Dumbledore looked surprised, perhaps thinking he had stored it in the bag that now sat on the floor at his feet with the knapsack Meranda had given him. But Harry hadn’t been without his wand within reach more than a handful of times in years, the most recent exception being that he was, oh, say, in a coma.

“I do. Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather. I’ve had it as long as I can remember.” He fibbed the last bit but no one seemed to notice.

“If I may see it dear?” She held a hand out and he looked at it reproachfully. “Only for a moment. And I won’t do anything untoward. I merely wish to make sure it is of working order.”

Stiffly, he placed the wand in her hand. She ran through a few spells causing sparks and stars and water to pour out and then making Belinda’s inkwell dance. Belinda slapped a hand to it and her nostrils flared at Dorietta.

“Fine fine. One more spell…” She concentrated and a tiny wispy blue stag half emerged from the wand tip. She was using Priori Incantatem. Shitballs what spells did I do before that? He was worried that a stunning spell or shield charm would pop up next, thinking of his Auror moments. Or what if it channels Nathaniel’s last spells? What had he been up to? But a new trickle of water and some confetti came next instead. Spells from his birthday party. The wand remembered.

Dorietta chuckled and passed it back to Harry who’s visible relief at having it back made Dumbledore squint and Hornwald twitch.

“Could you perhaps show us how you produced the water, Harry?”

He nodded. “May I, Ms. Strongholm?” He motioned to her no-longer-dancing inkwell and she slid it to him, confused. With a soft spell he transfigured it into an empty pitcher. “Aguamenti.” Water poured into it from his wand. When the pitcher was full he carefully made a swish and flick motion. “Wingardium Leviosa.” The full pitcher rose a foot off the table. “I could make it dance but I’m afraid it would spill.” He lowered his wand and the pitcher landed with a small thump. Another spell and the pitcher was gone; Belinda’s now very-full inkwell sat in its place.

“Remarkable!” Everyone was staring at him now. Dorietta was beaming. She turned to Headmaster Dippet. “I’m sure with a little help and a few weeks he’d be ready to start his seventh year at Hogwarts!”

Dumbledore hmmmed softly but Dippet was nodding slowly.

“Perhaps. We need to discuss this as a group.” Dumbledore interjected, now watching Mr. Hornwald’s expression.

Harry wasn’t surprised when they dismissed him, asking him to please wait in the hall for a few moments. He was pretty sure he’d secured a spot in Hogwarts, at least on a trial basis. He was very sure that Dumbledore was wary of him and once the Unspeakable spoke about Harry shutting down his Legillimancy the old wizard would trust him even less. It hurt in some ways to know that they wouldn’t be so close as they had been years ago. At the same time though he had to remember all he had learned about Dumbledore and the plans and fibs and mistrusts after he had died and how maybe they’d never been as close as Harry had wanted to believe. It lessened the sting somewhat. It would be what it would be and this time he would live for himself and not as The Boy Who Lived until it was convenient for the greater good.

Harry leaned back against the wall and waited.

[itspdameronthings]

Party Gone Wrong

Summary: Finally at long last! Long awaited Benny fic i was trying for along time to write! i know has been along while since i have wrote anything new. This fic is about Benny doing something at a party he regrets. Using his musical talent to win back Doc! yes its set in @autumnleaves1991-blog;s channel two universe. whom helped me with this fic. bless you @autumnleaves1991-blog for helping me get back to writing !

Song benny sings is down below the post enjoy!

Warning: 18+ content mentioned. So under aged readers please. I'll block you if you do.

How can anyone be so stupid! That is what you thought laying on your bed weeping over what has just happened.  To think Benny would tell the other nurses about how intimate the three of you have gotten.  Wish you didn't hear what he said,but sadly you did. 

Few nights ago : 

After a horrible night at the ER. So many patients. What do you expect during a full moon? Benny moans as he places his clipboard on the admit desk, " Last nutcase heading up to the OR,and I'm so out of here. Soon as my baby girl finished curtain in  3. We are so fucking out of here. Dominic comes bouncing towards the desk, " How about we go out. Ya know to unwind.  After a shift we had? We need some food,and kick back a few beers, what yall say?" Benny couldn't say no to that. He goes over to you. Pull the curtain back, seeing you laying on the bed. Looking so exhausted.  Couldn't help ,but to kiss you, " Sweetheart? Time to get up now. If you are up to it. Dom ,and the rest of the nurses are goin to Woodies for drinks and pig out. We don't have to go if you dont want to. " Sitting up followed by a soft moan," That sounds great,but I have some charts to take care of. You know, bosses like stuff. Tell you what.  You go ahead. I'll meet you there. Promise I won't be long. " 

Blue offered to stay with you while the others left. Didn't want to leave you alone with piles of charts to do. There was something she wanted to talk to you about.  Plopped on the couch looking up at the ceiling," I'm done with the last chart. How about you? My tummy is rumbling like crazy!" Putting down your readers," Roger that! Could eat anything right now. Let's sneak out before there is another trauma .last thing I need is to stay here! Miss Benny." Blue laughs as she hugs you, " Oh I know you do." 

" Oh yeah! She loves to be taken from behind. She moans for hours it seems. Surprisingly the guests in the next room didn't tell the front desk about the noise." Benny grins in his bottle of beer as he tells the story about the time they were at staying at a hotel during an outing last year. Other nurses wanted Benny to tell more. Which he did. 

Dominic comes out of the bar to get some air tell he sees you and Blue pulling up.  Opening the driver side door practically smiling, " Well, well look who's here miss I love to have two cocks inside her. Never pegged you as a kinky friend.  " Slamming the door, " What the fuck did you say? Oh wait who fucking told you about… oh I know who fucking did! What else did he say?!" 

Trying to explain to his friend what led to the conversation.  Dominic pulls your arm," Don't be hard on the guy. We were chatting about stuff.  You know how Benny gets when he drinks too much? Just.." 

Didn't hear what your friend said.  Marched inside to hear Benny chanting away. Not much of a hello," Oh really now Benny! You have to tell everyone about our sex life!? Not everyone needs to know that! Now if you excuse me! I'm leaving! Have a nice dinner spilling your drunken guts out!" 

Benny marched outside to catch up with you.  Reaching out for your arm so he could get your attention, " What was that ! Answer me! Dammit ! We were talking about stuff that led to another.  I don't see what's wrong?" You know that was a lie! When he gets drunk.  He talks too much! Couldn't take it anymore.  Go to slap him. Benny's reaction is right on point even if he was drunk," Remember darlin, I have quick reflexes.Sober or not. " That did it! With a swift motion of your leg. You tripped him. Laying on the ground looking all shocked," Doc! Look, I'm sorry! Okay! It slipped out! " 

Fuming at that remark.  Thinking about how stupid he was! Telling the others such intimate stuff to the others! Knowing that the whole hospital will know about it tomorrow. Not if you have anything to say about that. Marched inside to see the nurses that love to gossip, and the others you trust with your life. Ordered a drink to ease your woes as you spoke," okay! Let's get one thing straight! If any of you gossipy, assed , no fucking good for nothing nurses tell anyone what you heard tonight? I'll make sure you will be doing nothing but doing nothing but triage for the next month! Do I make myself fucking clear?!" Blue and Dominick look at the two nurses in question.  Both of them rolled their eyes as they walked away.  One of them made a comment, " You're no fun! " Dom and Blue gathered around you so you can calm down. 

Meanwhile, Benny gets up to nurse his wounds. All he wanted was to go inside to talk to you till he thinks you need to cool off. So he drives over to see Will.  Knew he would help him. 

" Are you out of your mind! How could you do that! Never thought about how embarrassed she would be? I'm glad she didn't kick you anywhere else.  Like your head! " Benny runs his fingers through his hair as he tries to think about what to say," Will, I know I screwed up big time. Never meant to embarrass her. Regret for drinking too much again! " Sitting next to his brother trying to figure out what to say to help him. Only to say," You can stay here for a few days.  So you can figure out what to do. " 

Present day: Both of them haven't spoken to each other.  Has to do with them having different schedules so they could have some space. By switching with either Dominic or Blue. Coming up to the admit desk to drop off a chart. Blue stands next to you, " Look honey, I know you are still mad. Think it's time to talk to him? He is hurting too ya know.  We went over to see him . He is messed up. " Looking at your friend with tears in your eyes, " I miss him too,but it hurts! Wished Santi was here to help. He always knows what to do to help me get over the pain." 

Santi moans as he talks to Benny on the phone, " Sometimes you can be such a nincompoop! Okay, here's what I would have done in this situation. Sing to her. Something that both of you did together. " Benny sighs, " Thanks for the idea man. See ya when you get back. " Santi hangs up . Hoping his idea would work. 

" I know you are sad sweetheart.  Wish I was there . Help to mend that fragile heart.  Need to know . Benny would do anything to say he is sorry." Listening to Santi's sweet, deep voice on the phone while sitting in your favorite chair.  Sniffled, " Me too. Cant.. ya know stay mad at Benny for too long. It just.. hurts. I haven't seen him since that night. Feel crappy!" 

Benny takes a deep breath as he pulls his truck in the driveway.  Guitar in hand . Taking a breath, " Okay, time to make things right with Doc. Hope she is home , or I'm singing to no one ,but to a nosey neighbor. " Start to strum the few chords of a certain song they would sing at the top of their lungs. 

I'll never hurt you.  

Never scared to love, scared to love. 

He didn't deserve you 

'Cause your precious  heart is a precious heart 

He didn't know what had and I thank you God oh, oh,oh, oh 

And it's gonna take a little time

But you're gonna see that I was born to love you.

Benny waits for the next part . Nothing. Continue to play the song. What he doesn't know you are home listening to him sing. Tears in your eyes while leaning against the window sill," santi, he is singing that song we did at open mike night! What am I gonna do baby!" 

" Sing with him! Get out there and sing with him! He needs you!" 

Opening the window so you could sit on the sill. Started to sing the chorus.  Benny looks up at you smiling through his tears. Looking up strumming again: 

What if I fall? 

I'll won't let you fall

What if I cry? 

I'll never make you cry

And if I get scared? 

I'll hold you tighter 

When they're tryna get to you,baby ,I'll be the fighter

Benny stops and goes over to the window," Look darlin. I'm sorry for being an idiot. Didn't mean to blurt our sexcapade. Never thought how it would embarrass you.  Miss holding you tight.  Miss your soft lips. I know you do the same. So. How you come down here so I could hold you close. " 

Looking down seeing how disheveled he looks. Baggy pants, tee. Messy long hair. How can he look so hot while looking so sad?Not thinking jumped out of the window.  Rushed over to you.  Checking to see you hurt your ankle. Benny sweetly kissed your lips while carrying you inside, " I didn't mean for you to do that you know. Guess you weren't thinking.  How about I take you upstairs to tend to your ankle? Better yet.  Take you to the ER." 

After checking your ankle.  Seeing it was definitely sprained. Benny stays with you while Blue gets some pain meds. Taking your hand," Now you are officially unable to work . I have volunteered to take care of you. " Tracing patterns on his cheek, " Don't have to baby. I'll be fine, you know.  Working on my laptop.  Catching up on shit. You need to focus.." 

" Focus on others you shithead. I'll take care of her. " Santi leans against the doorway, flowers in hand," neighbors told me what happened when I drove up. Glad you are fine sweetheart.  As for you mr. Loud talker? No more telling nurses about our sex lives." Benny nods as he walks away to get your discharged papers. Santi hugs you close," Glad you are okay. Made me think about when you were in the chopper in Columbia. Got so scared. So now tell me why you jumped out of our window?" 

Few weeks later

While you were resting in bed. A familiar song filled the air. Made you smile.  Benny enters the room, " Thought about you need something nice to wake up to.  How's the ankle?" Sitting up," stiff,but I'll be fine baby. See you had a rough shift?" Taking off his scrubs, " Oh, your usual stuff. GSW, DWI'S ,and other shit. Everyone missed you.  So do I.  The others went to hang out.  I declined. Rather stay home with you,and Pope. " Reach out to hug Benny, " Right answer baby. Right answer. " 

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Eleven: Fall Into Me and I'll Catch You Darlin'

dbf!joel x f!reader | WC: 5k | E 18+ mdni

Series Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings. Joel is his own warning. Angst/despair, fluff, smut - this chapter has the works. Please excuse my lack of medical knowledge. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

This is it, folks, the final chapter! Just the epilogue left now. Thank you for coming along on this ride with me. I have fallen in love with this little family and I hope you have as well.

Moodboard by the lovely @mrsmando. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Ten | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Four days. Joel hadn’t left your bedside in four days, so immovable that the nurses took pity on him and asked an orderly to setup a cot for him in your hospital room.

You still hadn’t regained consciousness and Joel was losing his god damned mind over it.

The list of your injuries a mile long, among them a bunch of broken things – ankle, nose, ribs, wrist. That’s what you were right now, broken, and you had a hard road to recovery ahead of you. Joel agonized over your condition, freaking out when you had to go back into surgery shortly after coming out of it the first time. He’d barely laid eyes on you before they hauled you away again, machines beeping chaotically at whatever went wrong. You developed a hemorrhage, the doctor later told him, but they caught it in time.

Joel hadn’t stopped crying in four days, except for a brief time when Sarah was discharged. He held her for hours, trying his best not to smother or hurt her as she sat on his lap next to your bed. Aside from a purple cast on Sarah’s broken wrist, her limited injuries were already healing. Joel’s worry over his sweet little girl lessened a bit and he trusted Tommy, your dad, and your best friend, Emily, to watch over her while he sat vigil at your bedside. They brought Sarah by to see you twice a day, every day so far. Still, you hadn’t woken up.

He lost it the first time Sarah saw you lying there, barely recognizable from the injuries you sustained. Face bruised and swollen, body wrapped in casts or dressings. Sarah worried that you were dying, nearly inconsolable at the thought that you might die, might leave her, and her dad, forever. She couldn’t handle it, the thought of losing the only mom she’d ever known, ever wanted.

Joel had to leave the room at his daughter’s visceral expression of the pain she felt, her inconsolable weeping a reflection of his own anguish. He left Tommy to deal with it, and slid down the wall in the hallway, just a little way down from your room, shoulders shaking from the strength of his own sobs as the sound of Sarah’s caterwauling carried through the air. JB was the only one who could reach him through his pain, the understanding of one father for another as they both shed endless tears over you. He sat next to Joel, right there in the hallway, and wept with him, whispering words of praise of how strong you were, how much you loved them all, how you would pull through.

Joel fought hard to believe those words, to trust in JB’s hope as he was quickly losing his. He raged inside at how unfair life could be until he exhausted himself emotionally and fell into a dreamless daze in the cot next to you. When the sun rose above the horizon, he stopped trying to sleep, stopped pretending that he could while you remained unconscious.

“Come on, son. Go home and shower, take a nap in a real bed. You haven’t slept in days. I’ll watch over Spud, and you’ll be my first call if anything happens,” JB insisted the morning of day 5 at the sight of heavy bags beneath the younger man’s eyes.

Opening his mouth to argue, to adamantly refuse, Joel snapped it shut at the concerned look on your dad’s face. He gave into the exhaustion then, all the fight fleeing him, and he stood with shoulders hunched. He was completely deflated, emotionally and physically. “Ok, you’re right. I at least need a shower.”

“That you do. I could smell you down the hall.” Joel’s lips twitched at JB’s comedic effort, but he didn’t have it in him to smile or laugh. “Go on, git. Emily’s at your house with Sarah. She’ll stay while you nap – please try to get some sleep. I don’t want to see you for at least three hours, ya hear me, son?”

Joel nodded and kissed the small spot on your face free of bruising, slinking from the room with one last glance over his shoulder at you. He noticed how your dad kept calling him son – a new development since the accident and it warmed his heart in a way that he sorely needed during this torturous time.

The drive home a blur, his limbs functioning on muscle memory alone, Joel stumbled through the front door of his home with just enough energy to great Emily and Sarah.

“Joel!” Emily exclaimed, jumping from her spot on the couch to pull him into a tight hug. She adored him from the first second you introduced them, finding the man dreamy in that way that was a perfect match for you. It tore her apart to see him falling to pieces over your current condition. “JB commanded that I send you right to bed. Give Sarah a kiss then git goin’.”

Too drained to be disgruntled about being given orders in his own house, he swept Sarah up with tired limbs, ever mindful of her cast. “Hey baby girl. I love you. Have you been good for Miss Emily?”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m always good. Is she any better?” Sarah asked in her sweet, young voice that pulled taut at his heartstrings.

“Not yet,” Joel choked on the words, unable to fight the tears stinging the back of his eyes at his daughter’s worried face. He set her down on the couch before trudging up the stairs. Aching to climb into bed – as empty and cold as it would be without you – but he jumped into the shower first to wash the past few days away.

If only it was that easy.

Joel collapsed on the unmade bed, barely managing to throw a pair of sleep pants on after the quick shower. He was dead asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow.

An hour later, he pried his eyes open, clutching to the warm body clinging to him. For a brief moment, his mind thought it just another normal morning waking up to you at his side. Reality crashed down on him, hard, before he even had the chance to enjoy the thought. Sarah’s frame clung to him like a spider monkey in her sleep. She must have joined him for a nap at some point and was still out cold.

Her steady breathing lulled him back to sleep for another couple hours until Emily woke him with a shout. Joel bolted upright at the echo of his name, heart thumbing in his chest as he jostled Sarah in the process.

“Joel!” Emily called again as she reached the top of the stairs and peeked into his bedroom. “She’s awake!”

Mind still fighting through the fog to wake up, he stared at your best friend with owlish eyes.

“JB just called. She’s awake! You gotta get back to the hospital!” Emily stepped fully into the room, tossing a pair of jeans and a tee shirt at him to get him moving.

“Dad!” Sarah’s uninjured hand nudging him into action as she exclaimed. “Can I come with you?”

Finally, Joel’s mind kicked into gear. You were awake. He had to see you, but first, he needed to get dressed. “Not yet, baby girl. Lemme see how she’s doing and maybe you can see her tomorrow. We don’t want to overwhelm her, okay?”

Flopping back onto the mattress with a pout, Sarah muttered, “Okay,” as Joel eased out of bed with a groan.

It started with muscle twitches. Fingers flexing. A small grimace creasing your battered face. The process to consciousness was a daunting one that ended with fighting against the intubation tube. Even once a nurse came in and removed the tube, you still fought to come fully back to yourself.

“Dad?” Throat dry and raw, you could do little more than croak despite the rising panic. Your eyes darted around the room in confusion, landing first on your dad before taking in the plain white walls and clinical equipment. You were in the hospital, that much was obvious, but you couldn’t recall why. A thick fog wove through your mind, leaving you trying to make sense of anything, everything.

“Hey Spud. Sleeping beauty finally awakens,” your dad teased, his voice gentle but, even with a foggy brain, you picked up on the worried undertone.

“What happened?” It hurt to talk but you needed to know.

“You don’t remember? Of course you don’t, you got a pretty good knock to the head,” he muttered half to himself before tenderly taking your hand between both of his. “You and Sarah were hit by a drunk driver. Does that ring a bell?”

Like a light bulb coming on, things came back to you, brightening the dark corners of your memory. The ride home from school, going to get ice cream, the sudden and unexpected impact as you proceeded through a green light, the car rolling once, twice, then… nothing. With the memory came your brain’s recognition of pain and your body’s aches made themselves well known.

Everything hurt.

Seriously, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, to lie still. It hurt to just fucking exist.

“Oh my God, Sarah? Is she okay? Where is she? Where is Joel?” You glanced around the room as if waiting for them jump out from behind something, the panic returning as you gulped for air.

“Calm down, honey. The little nugget is okay. She’s home, Emily’s watching over her now. Joel’s on his way back. I’ll let him tell you how she is, but just know that she’s fine.” JB spoke in short, clipped sentences, not wanting to overwhelm you further, one grizzled hand stroking your hair back like he did when you were sick as a kid.

You tried to sit up but abandoned that idea the moment the room spun, the throbbing pain too much. Fuck, your face hurt like hell.

“Don’t do that, Spud. While Sarah might be okay, you were seriously injured. I’ll let the doctor explain when he comes in, but you shouldn’t try moving or anything just yet. You’re pretty banged up,” he explained softly.

You met your dad’s eyes, and you could see at once the toll your condition took on him. You had so many questions, but you couldn’t process them quite yet. The pair of you sat quietly for a little while until the doctor joined you, explaining the laundry list of injuries you sustained. No wonder everything hurt. They gave you more medicine for the pain now that you regained consciousness – you couldn’t believe you were out for so long – and things started to make more sense in your brain.

You’d be stuck in the hospital for a few more days before the doctor would even think about discharging you. As much as hospitals sucked, you knew it best you stay put when you couldn’t even sit up with collapsing back in pain.

Joel burst into the room shortly after the doctor left. Sipping at a cup of water your dad held for you, you nearly choked at the sight of him. You’d never seen him look so disheveled, so run down, his normal scruff grown out into a near full beard after a week of not shaving, eyes bloodshot and sunken, curls a messy, wild halo around his head.

“Oh darlin’,” Joel said as you attempted to smile at him. The bandages covering portions of your face and the swelling from the repaired break in your nose made it hard, but your eyes sparkled with happiness at the sight of him.

“Hi Joel,” you croaked in return.

He practically launched himself at your side, knocking JB out of the way so he could sit bedside. Hands hovering, afraid to touch, tears glistened in his eyes. “I was so fuckin’ scared. Thought I was gonna lose you.”

Tears sprung to your own dry eyes as the fingers of your uninjured hand tangled with his. The mere tickle of tears in your nose was damn near excruciating. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

Startled, Joel’s dark chocolate eyes searched your face, completely baffled. “Darlin’, what? What in the world are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

You blubbered as Joel and your dad stared at you bewildered. “I almost got Sarah killed!”

Joel cracked a smile then, the first one in nearly a week, before leaning forward to place a tender kiss upon your chapped lips. “The hell you did. You didn’t do anything but take care of her. None of this was your fault, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t shake the guilt though, not even days later when the doctor discharged you. Sweet, little Sarah waited for you with a bright smile and a mylar ballon that read Welcome Home as Joel and JB helped you into the house. The sight of the purple cast on her right wrist wiped the smile from your face. How could Joel not see that this was all your fault?

You could hardly hug the girl as guilt overwhelmed you.

Emily and Tommy stood behind Sarah as you wobbled through the front door, smiles not hiding the winces at the healing trauma on your face. Emily could tell at once that you were on the verge of breaking down, unable to take your eyes from the healing contusions on Sarah’s adorable face or the cast on her wrist.

Stepping forward, Emily pulled you into a hug, ever mindful of your healing ribs and incisions. “It’s so good to see you awake and in one piece!” she whispered in your ear. “None of this was your fault, you know that right?”

She knew you too well. You choked on a sob, burying your head in her shoulder for several minutes until you had your emotions back under control.

“Do you wanna sign my cast? Daddy got special markers for it! I wouldn’t let anyone else sign it before you came home.” Sarah held a silver Sharpie up for you, flashing those puppy dog eyes at you. Unable to deny her, you took the marker with a trembling hand and drew a heart on the topside of the cast, your name scrawled sloppily beneath it.

Delighted, Sarah handed Joel the marker next and, with a quick glance at you, printed his name above the heart you drew, adding Sarah’s next to yours so that it now read Joel hearts you & Sarah. The tears returned when both Sarah and Joel gazed at you with unabashed affection.

Perhaps they really did not blame you for the accident, for Sarah’s broken wrist, for all that you put them through in the past week and a half. You weren’t sure if you deserved their love, but you basked in it, allowing it to wash over you and heal your soul.

Six weeks of convalescing at home under the tender care of Joel and Sarah, and you finally felt like yourself again, emotionally, and physically. It took a while, but Joel managed to convince you to set free the irrational guilt you felt over the accident, aided by the news that the drunk driver pleaded guilty.

Wanting to celebrate your recovery and the removal of your and Sarah’s casts, Joel planned a small gathering for July 4th. Just the Millers, JB, Emily and her husband, and Maria – the attorney Tommy fell head over heels for last year finally gave into his advances and they were happily living together now. She was a gem and fell right in with the group, giving as good as she got.

“Darlin’, just put that down, I’ll get it,” Joel insisted as you pulled a plate full of raw steaks from the fridge.

“Joel, I’m not a delicate little flower who will break under the weight of a few steaks,” you teased lovingly. Placing the plate on the counter, you turned to Joel and slipped your arms around his neck. Fingers threading through his curls, you pulled his head down, pressing your lips to his. “I love you.”

Joel’s large hands slid down your back, grabbing your ass as the kiss intensified. “Mmmm, I love you, darlin’,” his deep voice rumbled against your mouth. A knock sounded on the front door as he placed another kiss on your lips. “Now, let me take care of this while you welcome our guests.”

Before long, everyone gathered in the backyard. Your dad, Joel, and Emily’s husband Ed stood around the grill while Joel cooked the steaks and Sarah showed off her swimming skills to Maria and Tommy. You and Emily sat on the patio with glasses of sangria just watching everyone you love.

“I know I’ve said it a million times already but thank you again for being there for them after the accident,” you said as you watched Joel manning the grill with confidence. “I know it couldn’t have been easy and I just want you to know that I appreciate you.”

“Always, that’s what friends are for.” Emily smiled at you. “You really got somethin’ good here, you know. That man, he was a complete wreck while you were in the hospital. And that little girl, she worships the ground you walk on. Those two would do anything for you and I know you would do anything for them.”

You heard from your dad how hard Joel struggled while you were in the hospital, how he barely slept, refused to leave your side. Emily reiterated it all and you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you would have done the same if anything happened to him or Sarah.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” you said after taking a sip of the fruity red wine concoction. “I can’t imagine my life without them in it.”

“That’s good, really good.” Too busy making googly eyes at Joel, you missed the knowing look Emily shot you.

“She can’t keep her eyes off you, son,” JB teased. “You ready to do the thing?”

“What thing is that?” Ed asked curiously.

“Imma ask her to marry me,” Joel mumbled, already feeling a little nervous. “I got the ring in my pocket, just waiting for the right moment.”

“Good on ya, man!” Ed replied. Turning to JB, he added, “I take it he has your blessing?”

Nodding, JB grinned at his future son-in-law as he replied, “He sure as hell does. I couldn’t have asked for a better man to take care of my little Spud.”

A flush rose along Joel’s neck and moved onto his cheeks at the praise. “Alright, alright. Let’s not talk about it anymore. I don’t wanna risk her overhearing something. I want it to be a surprise.”

The other two men nodded in understanding. “Just one last thing,” Ed said. “You should ask her during the fireworks. I brought my good camera; I’ll make sure to get great shots of it for you and the fireworks will just add to the ambiance.”

The steaks were grilled to perfection, Joel nailing that medium rare sear that you loved, and Maria’s macaroni salad was a hit. Once everyone devoured their food, you jumped into the pool, letting the water ease the lingering ache in your bones while your dad and Emily insisted on helping Joel clean up. Before long, everyone else joined you in floating around to kill time before the town’s fireworks show began. The house was perfectly situated to see them from a distance, so you didn’t have to fight the traffic to find parking in town to see the show.

Drinking in the sight of Joel shirtless, swim trunks sitting low on his hips, you licked your lips hungrily. He dove into the deep end of the pool, swimming underwater until he reached you in the shallow end. Popping up next to you, he slicked his wet curls back from his forehead with a grin. Fuck, he was handsome.

“Hey beautiful,” Joel greeted. “Enjoying yourself?”

Smile so broad your cheeks hurt, you nodded. “Today has been wonderful, thank you, Joel. This was exactly what I needed.”

“I’d do anything for you, darlin’. You know that, right?” he implored, pulling you close so that you could wrap your legs around his waist beneath the water’s surface. “I’ve never been so in love before. You have completely changed my world.”

“I could say the same about you, babe.”

“The fireworks are gonna start soon. Watch to watch them from the patio?”

“Sure,” you replied. So caught up in Joel, you didn’t notice everyone watching you both with broad smiles as the two of you climbed out of the pool.

Settling into one of the cushioned outdoor chairs, the soft glow of the string lights from that special date all those months ago glistening on your damp skin. Joel moved his chair closer and sat, holding his right hand out for yours, he grinned when you twined your fingers with his.

Suddenly, Tommy appeared in front of you both, carrying a fresh glass of sangria for you and an ice-cold beer for Joel. “Here you both go.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you said gratefully.

“You ready?” he asked, his dark eyes glowing warmly in the low lighting.

“For the fireworks?” you replied, slightly confused. “You bet!”

Tommy smiled indulgently, sharing a look with Joel before moving to the poolside to help his girlfriend out of the water.

Glancing around at your friends and family, you found everyone watching the two of you. You had the feeling something was up, that there was something you were missing. Before you could dwell on it, the first bursts of light exploded in the sky, the whistling boom echoing distantly.

Mesmerized by the show, oohing and ahhing with everyone, you didn’t see Joel slip from his seat to kneel next to you. As the finale began, he said your name, drawing your attention away from the sky.

An audible gasp left your lips as he gazed at you, love lighting up his tanned features. Your eyes darted around the yard to find everyone watching you instead of the fireworks, Ed snapping away with that fancy camera of his.

“Joel, what—” you began breathlessly before he cut you off.

“Do you remember that song we danced to, right here in the yard, beneath these very lights?” His smooth voice gave no hints of the nervous energy flowing beneath his skin.

You nodded, recalling the memory fondly. “That was a beautiful night.”

“It was, and I hope to have many more just like it with you.” Still kneeling, he reached his left hand into his pocket and your breath hitched. Your heart nearly dropped when you merely pulled his phone out, tapping at the screen until music began to play in the background.

Taking your hands in his, Joel began to sing along, his deep voice the perfect contrast to the artist’s.

“On the day that I met you,

The world had just spit me out.

On my way to the bottom

Sure I’d never be found.

Then you saw me for me

Made me believe in myself.

On the day that I met

It all turned around.”

Tears stung the back of your eyes, but for the first time in weeks, they were tears of happiness, not pain or guilt. You clutched at Joel as he went to pull his right hand free, and he chuckled.

“I fall more in love with you every single day. I don’t know how I ever got to be this lucky, to find someone like you, who fits so perfectly, so seamlessly into mine and Sarah’s lives.”

You finally loosened your grip so he could pull his right hand free, digging into the zippered pocket as you swiped at the tears coursing down your face.

“You are the woman of my dreams, the one I was sure didn’t exist until I met you. If I promise to fall for you over and over again, will you promise to be my wife, to be Sarah’s mom, to love us from now until forever?”

Gazing into his dark, gorgeous eyes, misty with tears of his own, you nodded. “Yes, yes. A million times, yes, Joel. I’d love to be your wife and Sarah’s mom.”

You were sobbing as he beamed, slipping a beautiful, understated princess cut diamond ring on your finger. It fit perfectly and your heart swelled, the love in you threatening to spill over, to burst straight from your chest. “Joel, it’s so beautiful!”

Joel stood, pulling you with him until your feet left the ground and he spun you in a circle once, twice, before setting you down on solid ground. You lurched forward, sealing your love, your promise with a heated kiss.

As if they hadn’t all witnessed every second of what just happened, Joel looked over at everyone and declared, “She said yes!”

The small group of your favorite people made a racket with their whoops and whistles, JB shouting above the rest, “About fuckin’ time, son!”

Unable to contain herself for another second – she had been incredibly patient, after all, letting her dad do the asking instead of her – Sarah burst from Tommy’s grasp, launching herself at you. Joel helped you sweep her up for a tight hug.

“It’s official now, right?” Sarah questioned, nearly vibrating with excitement. “You’re gonna be my mom now. I finally get to have a mom and not just any mom, but you. The best one I could have asked for.”

Just when you thought the tears ebbed away, the waterworks started once again. “Oh, my sweet, perfect girl. I promise to try my best to be worthy of such an honor. I couldn’t have asked for a better girl to go on this adventure with.”

“This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever witnessed,” Emily said, her voice catching as tears ran down her cheeks as well.

“Agreed,” Maria chimed in with a sniffle and Tommy pulled her close with a dumb grin spreading across his face. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he thought about how he’d propose when the time came.

You and Joel couldn’t keep your hands off each other once Sarah went to bed and everyone left. Your need for each other was too mighty to fight, not that either of you wanted too anyway. He treated you like glass the past six weeks, afraid to hurt you, to aggravate your injuries. You understood, but that didn’t stop the desire, the need for him and it frustrated you that he would not give in. Now that you were mostly healed, you wanted him to make love to you like he used to.

Readying yourselves for bed, you climbed onto the mattress, straddling Joel’s hips where he laid back against the pillows. Half hard already at the mere sight of you naked before him, he grasped your hips to grind your core down on him.

“I need you, my love. I need to feel you inside me. It’s been too long,” your voice a breathy whine against his mouth, your lips touching but not yet kissing. “Let me ride you.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel gasped as you shifted against his now fully hardened cock. “Take what you want, sweetheart.” He watched with lust blown eyes as you slid his sleep pants down his hips, and he kicked them off to lay in a pile at the bottom of the bed.

So wet and needy, you didn’t even need foreplay. Sealing your mouth to his, you swallowed his groan as you slid down on his cock. Pausing for a moment once he was balls deep inside you, fingers threaded through his luscious curls, you sighed in contentment.

“I feel so fucking full, Joel,” you moaned, finally starting to move. “I’ve missed this so much.”

Joel gazed at you, completely enraptured and unable to speak. The words stuck in his throat, he just watched you move on him, his hips shifting upwards to meet your movements. It felt so good he knew he wouldn’t last long, shifting his hand between you to pluck at your clit as you rode him.

“Come for me, darlin’. I need to feel you come apart around me,” the words burst from deep in his chest, dripping with need as he got closer to the edge. Thumb moving frantically against your clit in that way that drove you crazy, he made you come apart within minutes.

“Fuck, Joel!” you gasped, burying your face in his shoulder, biting down on the flesh to stifle your moans. Waves of pleasure washed over you so strong you couldn’t move your hips anymore. Joel took over, thrusting up into you, drawing out your orgasm as your walls fluttered around him.

You sunk your teeth further into the meat of his trapezius, the shock of pain like a bolt of lightning straight to his cock. His movements grew sloppy as his balls tightened and he came with a guttural growl, sucking at your neck as rope after rope of cum splashed inside you.

Breathless and satiated, you stayed in place, allowing the aftershocks to roll through you both. You brought your hands up to cup his face, the patchy scruff of his beard tickling your palms. The diamond ring on your left hand sparkled in the dim lighting and you grinned down at Joel, so full of love.

He pulled you down to lay with him, his softening cock slipped out of you in the process, and you both ignored the mess as you cuddled together.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” You felt the words rumble from deep in his chest as he spoke them, pulling you impossibly closer until your sweaty skin melded to his. “I fuckin’ love you, darlin.”

Smiling sleepily, you murmured your love for him, your excitement over being engaged, the beauty of the ring he chose for you, until you fell asleep mid-sentence.

Your dreams were no match for the life you and Joel were creating together.

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr

@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg

@ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby

@deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981

@marirxse @lizzie-cakes @tynakub @subconsciouscollapse @babygabe @cuteanimalmama

[annwrites]

⸻ please, god, please, take him instead. ⸻

· pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you wake up with a cold, & once the two of you have reached vegas, for the next three days, billy prays to god that you don't slip away from him as he nurses you back to health. · word count: 5,724

When you wake the next morning, it's with a slight cough and an occasional sneeze.

At first, you don't think much of it.

Perhaps it’s just the desert sand irritating your sinuses.

Maybe it’s the arid air.

Maybe it’s nothing.

You lean your head against the passenger side door frame and shut your eyes.

You've only been on the road for a little over two hours.

Billy suggested that morning—since you brought it up previously in Oklahoma—maybe the two of you make another little detour and check out Vegas for a few days, or a week. You agreed easily, excited to see it yourself. Excited to see it with him.

Until you began to feel worse.

You’re halfway there now, but another two hours seems like a lifetime. All you want is a hot bath and a soft bed to lie down in. You want desperately to sleep. But the rumble of the engine, the music, and the wind blowing through the open windows makes your head feel like it’s ready to split open.

You, with heavy arms, pull your hair into a ponytail—desperate to cool down. God, this heat is unbearable. Maybe going so far West is a bad idea if you’re this sensitive to the temperate climate.

Too late now, however.

Billy glances to you, and he frowns at your flushed complexion and hooded lids. "You alright, baby?"

You blink tired eyes. "I don't feel good."

"You need me to hit the next rest-stop? I think one is comin' up in about five miles."

You close your eyes. "I don't need to go. I just feel so hot."

He doesn't bother making a joke—doesn't smirk or raise a brow.

Instead, he reaches over, and places his palm against your forehead. A muscle in his jaw feathers in worry then.

"You're burnin' up," he says, placing his hand back against the shifter. "You seemed fine last night."

You shrug lightly.

"Maybe it's just a bug I caught," you reply while yawning.

He glances over his shoulder. "Lay down in the backseat and get some rest. We'll be there in a couple hours. But roll your window up first and I’ll turn the AC on for you."

You open your eyes and do as he says, and feel only slight relief when cool air begins to circulate the cabin.

Meanwhile, crawling back there sounds like the equivalent to climbing Mount Everest right now, but staying seated the way you are doesn’t sound all that appealing, either. So, you unbuckle and climb between the seats, then curl up with the same pillow from that first night in his car—the smell of him comforts you.

How far you’ve both come. And not just literally.

"Let me know if you need me to stop for any reason. Alright, angel?"

You nod, your head already feeling light as you drift off. "Alright."

"Wake up, darlin', we're here."

You slowly blink your eyes open and squint against the light of day.

Billy kneels down and brushes hair out of your face—his form blocking you from seeing outside of the car.

He then presses his palm to your sweaty forehead. "You're still runnin' a fever."

Your eyes flutter closed again. "So tired."

"I know, sweetheart. Our room is only a few feet away. I already took all our things inside. Once you get in there, you can go back to sleep. C'mon," he encourages.

You groan, then sit up and your head swims.

You press the heels of your palms to your eyes while the world spins. "Oh God."

He slides his hand up your leg. "What's wrong?"

"Dizzy."

He doesn't like the sound of that. You had breakfast, but that was hours ago. It’s just because you’re hungry. That’s all. As soon as he gets you inside, he'll run out and get you something to eat. And then you'll be fine.

You'll be just fine.

He slides his arms under you and he picks you up, then shuts the door with his hip.

You lie your head against his shoulder and shut your eyes.

Billy carries you into the room, and he gently lies you down on the bed, then he begins tugging off your shoes.

"You want me to help you undress?" He asks.

You look at him, and note that his expression is serious, causing you to feel surprised that he's not using the questions as a come-on.

You nod lightly then.

He pulls off your tanktop and folds it, then he begins to tug off your jean shorts, and he folds them as well, and he places both on the bedside table.

You shiver then.

"Why is the AC on so high?" You ask, whimpering, trying to get beneath the covers.

He glances to it, then walks over and checks the thermostat. It’s at a comfortable enough temperature to him. A little warm, even.

He turns back to you, and watches as you wrap a comforter around yourself. He leans down,and pushes hair away from your forehead before pressing his lips to it―he remembers his mom doing the same when he was little and sick―and when he pulls away, the blood drains from his face.

"Baby doll, you're on fire, how do you feel cold?"

You merely shiver in response. "C-can you turn the heat on?"

"Sweetheart—"

"T-then, can you hold m-me? You're really warm."

He glances to the door, then back to you. "You haven't eaten since this morning. Aren't you hungry, honey?"

You shake your head. "My stomach hurts."

He chews the inside of his cheek. You're most certainly sick, and a cheeseburger isn't going to do it. He needs to run to a pharmacy and see what they have that he can give you which lines up with your symptoms.

He kneels down and runs his hand along the comforter before gently gripping your hip. "I need to go pick you up some medicine, baby. Will you be okay here on your own?"

You nod, still shivering. "C-can you put another b-blanket on me if there's one?"

He walks over to the closet and finds one, even if it's rather thin. He fans it out and drapes it over you. He then grabs his leather jacket, and rests it overtop of it.

He turns the AC down even further, knowing he's going to sweat through his fucking clothes when he gets back.

He presses a firm kiss to your forehead. "I'll be back in just a little bit. Alright, angel?"

You nod. "O-okay. I'll wait h-here."

He kisses you one last time, hating the thought of leaving you like this for even a second.

"I love you," he whispers before standing and grabbing his keys.

As Billy stands in the cold medicine aisle of a local pharmacy, he silently curses to himself at the plethora of options.

He picks up a bottle of Robitussin in one hand, and a bottle of NyQuil in the other, and then he spots another bottle of Motrin just to the right.

"Why are there so many fuckin' cough syrups? Jesus," he mutters to himself.

He decides on the two bottles he's currently holding, and he also picks up a thermometer, as well as an ice pack for your head. He has to get that damn fever down. And if the medicine doesn't do it—if it only gets worse—you won't like what he'll be forced to do next.

As he drives back to the motel, he searches his mind for what could've possibly brought this on. Traveling alone would do it. You've been in how many motel rooms and diners and tourist attractions now? And then he thinks of you on the hood of his car—your naked body soaked from the pouring rain.

He hangs his head for a moment.

"Fuck," he mutters before looking back up to the road.

He should've shoved you back in the car the second that storm hit. Should've at least put you in a hot shower when the two of you got back to your room. This is his fault.

All so he could get his rocks off. And you didn’t even get a chance to finish.

Selfish.

When Billy comes back into the room, you're fast asleep. He wants to take you resting as a good sign. They always say that, don't they, when someone is sick? To drink plenty of fluids and get lots of rest?

He sets the plastic shopping bag down on the bedside table, then he grabs the ice bucket, and heads back out to fill it.

When you wake, it's nearly dark out—the entire day gone.

You quickly realize that you're pressed up against Billy's bare chest—his warmth covering you. God, he feels so nice and warm.

You press your palms to him and close your eyes again.

And then you feel him stir.

"You awake, sweetheart?"

"Barely," you mumble.

You feel his body shift, like he's reaching for something beside the bed, and then he speaks. "Open. I need to take your temperature."

You do, and he slips the cool metal tip of a thermometer under your tongue.

A moment later, he removes it, and you hear him curse before setting it back on the bedside table.

"Is it bad?" You ask, snuggling closer to him while wrapping one of your legs around his, trying to soak up as much of his body heat as you can.

"It's 101.6. That's not good. You definitely have a fever, which I already knew."

He gets out of bed then, and you nearly cry from the loss of warmth before wrapping yourself in blankets again.

You hear a plastic bag crinkling and a moment later, he returns to you. "Sit up for me, darlin'. I need you to take this."

You pop one eye open, and look over the tiny cup that he holds between his fingers. "What is it?"

"Something to hopefully help break that fever. C'mon now."

Slowly, you sit up and clutch blankets to your chest with one hand while you take the cup from him with your other.

You sniff, then look up at him.

"It's not a shot, it's Robitussin. Just take it, Jesus. Please."

You throw it back and your nose wrinkles at the taste as you hand it back to him.

He hands you a cup of ice water then, and you down it quickly.

He walks across the room, then returns with another cup full.

You down it as well.

He smirks. "Want me to just bring you the whole damn ice bucket?"

You simply lie back down in response. "Can you hold me again?"

"You want to shower first? You're burning so damn hot you're about to give me a fever next."

"Not really."

He considers.

She also used to give him baths when he was sick. And they usually made him feel better, at least for a bit.

"How about a bat—"

"Please, Billy."

He sighs. "Alright."

When you wake in the middle of the night, you're drenched in sweat, but somehow still freezing. Did he not turned the AC down? You also have to pee something awful. When you get up to go, however, the room spins, and you hit the floor.

Billy wakes with a jolt, and when he realizes his arms are empty, he panics. "Baby, where are you?"

"Down here," you call from the floor.

He quickly throws back the covers, then walks around to your side before kneeling down.

"Act like you've never walked around in the dark before," he says with a smirk. "If you need help finding your way around a bedroom—"

"I fell. The room won't stop spinning."

His smile quickly drops.

"I need to go."

He nods, even if you can't see it, and he picks you up, then carries you into the bathroom.

Once he's set you on the toilet, he steps out for a moment to give you some privacy, leaving the door cracked.

Once you start to go, it takes a few seconds.

He leans his head back against the wall. "Sounds like a damn fire hose in there."

You barely roll your eyes at the sarcastic comment.

"You're drinking more water once you're done, just so you know."

"Great," you reply flatly.

Once you've wiped, you stand, flush, and then it hits you. You double over the toilet and vomit.

He rushes into the bathroom and quickly pulls back your hair with one hand while rubbing your bare back with his other.

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart. Just let it out. You'll feel better."

He hopes.

Once you have nothing left to expel and you stop dry-heaving, you lower the toilet lid and flush yet again, then lie your sweaty, flushed cheek atop the lid and close your eyes.

"I think I'm dying," you say quietly.

"Don't fucking joke about that," he states defensively.

You slowly open your eyes, and look up at him and see that his expression is now utterly serious.

He picks you back up. "Back to bed, young lady."

After making you drink not one, not two, but three cups of ice water—he even puts an ice pack on your feverish forehead, which causes you to shake violently—he gives you another cup of Robitussin, then he lies back down with you.

He chews you out when you try taking the icepack off, so you leave it be after that.

You do stick your cold hands down his briefs as payback, though.

In the morning, you feel worse.

You dry-heaved a few more times during the night—enough times that Billy had eventually placed a trash can on your side of the bed—and sweated straight through the sheets.

Billy gives you a few more doses of the Robitussin, but it seems like nothing is helping.

"Open."

You do, and wait for the thermometer to read your new temperature.

Gradually, it had climbed little by little overnight.

When he removes it, his brows furrow, and you can swear his eyes even get a little glassy at the reading.

You stare up at him.

"It's over a hundred and three now," he states, his voice full of worry.

He glances to the bathroom, then back to you.

"Can I go back to sleep now?" You ask quietly, blinking slowly at him.

He puts his hands on his hips as he thinks, and then he shakes his head.

"I...I can't afford to take you to the hospital, sweetheart. So we're going to try something else."

He steps closer to you. "You're not going to like it."

You thought you had felt cold before, but you had been deeply wrong.

Your body shakes violently in the tub as ice-cold water pours down on you from above. You wrap your arms more tightly around your knees, while you pull them impossibly closer to your chest.

"P-p-please stop. I'm s-so c-c-cold."

Billy fights against the tears that’re gathering in his eyes. "I know, baby. But I have got to get this fever down. This is the only way, sweetheart."

He turns the water on higher, unable to do anything more to help you as he watches—completely helpless—as freezing water pounds down against your trembling, naked skin.

All he can think is: is he doing the right thing? Is he really helping you? What if he's only making it worse? Making you more sick? Maybe a trip to the ER is what you need. What if...he lets it go for too long and...you don’t wake up again. He shakes his head. No. Anything but that.

He cannot fucking think like that.

You’re going to be just fine.

You have to be.

If you die, he'll fucking kill you. He can't fathom a life—no, a world—where you no longer exist by his side.

Once Billy has dried you off, you cling to his broad frame, to try and warm yourself.

He swallows down the lump in his throat at the icy feel of your skin.

"C'mon, angel, let's get you back into bed."

You like the sound of that immensely.

Once you're beneath the sheets, Billy gives you a dose of NyQuil next, wondering if mixing cough syrups is a good idea, but clearly the Robitussin is doing jack-shit for you.

He crawls in next to you again to lend you his body heat, and you quickly bury yourself in his side, whimpering as you try to get warm again.

He presses his lips to your forehead and finds you to still be hot.

"I'm going to let you sleep for a couple hours, and then I'm taking your temp again."

"Just don't make me go back in there, please," you beg.

And it breaks his heart.

"I'll do whatever is best for you. We have to break your fever, baby."

You moan, and press your face against his chest.

You're half-asleep when Billy puts the thermometer in your mouth again.

When he removes it, you don't see his reaction to the reading.

Not the tears that stream down his cheeks, or the way he throws it across the room, nor his burying his face in his hands as he becomes a nervous wreck, worrying that he's slowly killing you—the only thing he has left in all the world.

His girl, his sweetheart, his lover. His fucking heart.

If he loses you... He prays to God—genuinely—that if this is some sort of sick punishment for all the shit he’s done, the way he’s treated you; someone good and sweet and kind: please, God, please, take him instead.

Billy gently rocks you in his arms—thinking you're asleep as he quietly cries.

"Please, baby, please don't leave me. I'm waiting for you. Please. We're so close. We're almost there. I can't—"

He sniffles. "I told you before that I can't do it without you.”

He hiccups. "Without...without you, all of it means nothing. It'll have all been for nothing. It was for you. All this shit."

He begins to cry harder then. "Stay with me."

The next morning when you wake, you're not drenched in sweat for once. And, while you feel like you've been hit by a freight train, you don't feel like you're freezing, nor is your body burning up.

Billy had eventually exhausted himself from crying, worrying, and overthinking. He passed out at some point in the night while holding you, and telling you repeatedly—more times than he can ever hope to count—that he loves you.

Your arm feels heavy, and your movements are a bit uncertain, but you nevertheless reach up to his face, and cup his cheek while you rest your head on his chest. "Billy?"

His eyes immediately open and quickly he shifts so that he's hovering over you.

"You're awake," he says, almost like he's surprised by the fact.

Before you can reply, he presses his lips to your forehead.

And then he stares down at you with wide eyes. "I think your fever finally broke."

He gets out of bed, and heads across the room. He positions his hands on his hips as he surveys the floor. "Where the fuck did I put it? Jesus, why did I have to do that? Ha!"

He bends over and grabs the thermometer, then comes back over and wipes it off  before popping it into your mouth.

And when he removes it, he actually cries tears of joy.

He immediately crushes his lips to yours, not caring one bit if he gets sick himself.

"It's over, angel. Your fever broke. You're okay. Everything is okay now."

After quickly showering—even if he'd been terrified to leave you alone for a moment, but you've had him sweating for two nights now, and not in a good way—Billy returns to the bedroom to the sight of you napping.

He sits down on the side of the bed, and turns to you. "You awake, honey?"

You groan lightly. "Wanna sleep."

"I know, but you haven't eaten in going on three days now. We need to get something into your system; build your strength back up."

"Later," you reply, burying your face in a pillow.

He sighs. "Once you've eaten something, then you can go back to sleep. Maybe once I've given you a bath, too."

You don't reply.

He walks over to the entertainment center, and picks up various menus for local takeout from atop the box TV.

"What sounds good to you?" He asks, flipping through the laminated papers.

"Sleep."

He smirks. "That's not on the menu."

He comes back over to the bed and sits. "You want to pick something, or do you want me to order for you?"

"Don't care."

He briefly considers threatening you with habanero hot wings if you don't pick something on your own, but bites his tongue. "You want something easy on your stomach, like soup?"

"I'm not really hungry," you say, finally looking up at him—dark circles under your glassy eyes.

He leans down and gently tucks some hair behind your ear. "I know, honey, but you'll realize that you are when you finally eat something. Please."

You're quiet for a moment as you rest your palm overtop the back of his hand.

"Soup is fine. Maybe with crackers, if they have them."

Once dinner has been delivered—Billy ordered some ribs for himself from a place which serves American comfort food—he opens a large container of chicken noodle soup and he crushes up a hearty amount of crackers before handing it to you, along with a spoon. And when you go to serve some to yourself, you nearly spill it.

You look up to him sheepishly. "Woops."

He smirks and shakes his head.

"Need me to spoon-feed you?" He asks with a raised brow.

The idea seems humiliating, but your hands are so shaky and your arms feel so weak that you’re worried about ruining the bed, if not burning yourself as well.

You don't get a chance to answer before he comes back over to your bedside. “Scoot forward a little.”

You do, and he slides in behind you, then pulls you back to him. 

You rest your head in the crook between his chest and armpit. He winds his left arm around your waist—beneath your arm—so he can hold the soup, while his right holds the spoon to feed you with.

“Here comes the plane,” he says in a sing-song voice, holding the spoon in front of your face.

You roll your eyes, but open nevertheless and swallow.

It’s a tad bit salty, but good.

After a few spoonfuls, you realize he’d been right: you’ve been starving and didn’t even notice.

Once the bowl is halfway empty, you speak. “Thank you. For everything. No one has ever taken care of me like this. If you weren’t here, I…”

You trail off, then lie your head back against his shoulder, and look up at him. 

He kisses your forehead. “Wouldn’t have gotten sick in the first place if it weren’t for me.”

Your brows furrow. “How so?”

He holds the spoon in front of your lips. “Remember what we did on the hood of my Camaro? During a downpour?”

You flush, then take another sip.

Once you’ve finished your soup, you’re still quite hungry. “Is there more?”

Billy looks down at you for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, there’s more.”

He gets up, pads across the room, and he retrieves a styrofoam container. He hands it to you when he comes back over.

When you open it, your mouth begins to water. You look up at him before you take a single bite, however. “Is…was this for you?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not hungry right now. I got it for you. Figured just soup wouldn’t be enough.”

You stare at him for a moment, feeling like he’s lying.

“I’ve never eaten ribs in front of you before,” you state, meaning he has no way of knowing they’re a dish you enjoy.

He shrugs, then climbs back onto the bed.

“You’ve had barbecue with me before. Remember the sandwich of mine that I let you try at that one joint before we got into that big fight… The one where you left?”

One of the worst nights of his life was spent in his car searching desperately for you all over a small Oklahoma town.

He’ll never forget the terror he’d felt thinking that he’d lost you for good. Will never forget the hole he’d felt in his chest at the thought of never seeing you again—at the thought of never getting to one day tell you how he felt. Feels.

You hum your response. “I remember now.”

You don’t want to dwell on it, you know he’s ready to beat himself black and blue over it if that will please you. 

You pick up a slab of ribs and tear the meat apart, then take a bite.

You look up to Billy with sauce all over your face. “Want some?”

He smirks.

“Think you’re going to need a bath after this,” he says before taking it from you and finishing the piece off.

Once you and Billy have filled yourselves, he leaves you in bed watching TV as he goes to run you a bath.

He takes a moment in the bathroom to break down a little as well—to cry from relief.

He’d been so afraid… If your fever had climbed any higher, he was going to take you to the ER.

He wouldn’t have given a shit about money at that point. But once they had your names in their system… What if someone realized? Found out? What if it triggered something, and the cops came to drag the two of you back? He’d make up whatever story he had to to protect you then. 

He’d always been an asshole to you at school, but had clearly shown a bit of carnal interest. So he’d take the brunt of it—would tell them some ridiculous kidnapping tale. Even if he knows you wouldn’t have gone along with it for a second. Not now. Not after falling in love with him.

He still can’t believe that you do: love him. He isn’t worthy of it, but he’s selfish enough to keep you to himself if that’s where you want to be. He can’t handle it again: you trying to leave. It nearly broke him the last time.

Nearly losing you like this, though… When the two of you have only just begun… He shakes his head. He did the right thing, and you’re better now. Are going to continue getting better—recovering. 

What did you once tell him? You aren’t his responsibility? He thinks, since that first night, he’s made you as much.

You’re his purpose now—his priority. His to take care of and provide for.

And unlike his step-sister, which he’d had shoved onto his plate, he wants to be that for you. That’s what a man does when he loves a woman. He protects her. Makes sure she’s well looked after. She comes first. Period.

He shuts the water off—the tub now nearly filled to the brim and he watches as steam wafts into the air. He then steps back into the bedroom.

“Bath’s ready.”

Billy insists on bathing you himself, and after much bugging, you cave.

He, thankfully, doesn’t get soap in your eyes this time. He does take a bit of extra time scrubbing your breasts and between your legs, though. And while his lip twitches continuously while he does so, you say nothing of it.

It honestly just feels good to be catered to. Maybe even babied a little. All of that stopped for you the moment your mom went out the door.

Then you think back to your dad, and to the other students at school. It’s…insane, really, to think about. That the two of you really ran away together in the middle of the night to go cross-country.

A small smirk works its way onto your lips.

If someone had told you even just a month ago where you would be right now: here, with him, naked, in love, going to California in his car…you would’ve laughed in their face.

Billy is currently sitting on the floor facing you leaned against the wall behind him with an arm resting on the edge of the tub.

His smirks when he sees you smiling to yourself.

“What’re you smiling about?”

You glance up to him and cover yourself with what little bubbles are left in the water. “Nothing.”

He leans forward and slips his hand under the water’s surface. “Want me to climb in there with you?”

You lean back. “I don’t think this tub is big enough for two.”

He slips his hand between your thighs—his arm now submerged up to the pit. “Oh, I’ll fit. Or something will, at least.”

You close your eyes, then place a wet cloth over them. “I don’t have the strength for that right now.”

He shrugs. “I have no problem doing all the work.”

You fight a losing battle against a smile breaking out across your face. “Can you stop?”

You’re both quiet for a moment, and he rubs soothing circles against your thigh with his thumb while water gently laps against the tub’s edge. 

You finally tell him after a moment. “I was just thinking—wondering, rather—what people back in Hawkins must think about the two of us disappearing at the same time. The theories they’ve come up with.”

Billy grips your leg then, possessively. “I’m sure your pretty boy Harrington is worried sick.”

You remove the cloth, then gently splash him with a few drops of water. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

He leans back and crosses his arms. “Not if I can help it. Incase you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m the jealous type.”

Your brows furrow.

“Really? Who would’ve ever guessed?” You say, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Was half-tempted to get my knuckles bloody for you back then, too. Just from him asking you out alone. And right in front of me, at that.”

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again. “I drove by there that night, y’know?”

“Hm?”

“That ice-cream place. Twisted something-or-other. Saw you and Steve acting all buddy-buddy. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so fuckin’ pissed. And then I had to go pick up Angie for our date after and…”

He trails off. Is he really about to tell you about how you had been the cause of his dick not working properly that night?

“And what? You already tried rubbing in my face what the two of you did.”

He glances up to you. “Yeah, well, it almost didn’t happen.”

You’re taken aback by that. “Oh?”

“Once we were in the backseat…”

He leans back and sighs. “I could barely get it up, alright? All I could fucking think about was you doing the same damn thing with him in the backseat of his piece of shit BMW. And then it just got worse. She wouldn’t shut the fuck up, I’m trying to get my shit to work, and then I thought about that Monday. What if you came in holding his hand, all starry-eyed and in love with him? What if… What if that was it? You were his, and I’d lost, and I was right back to square fucking one again. So, I finally flipped her on her stomach, pretended it was you, and laid some pipe. End of story.”

You sit there dumbfounded.

You’d meant that much to him, even back then? Enough that he—Billy Hargrove—had struggled to get an erection? All because she hadn’t been you? While you do feel somewhat bad for Angie, you also wonder what could’ve possibly been going through her head to think giving it up to him on the first date was a good idea.

“You could’ve had me, Billy. Sooner, that is, if you’d treated me differently. Been, I don’t know, nicer? More of a gentleman?”

He smirks and lies his arm back against the edge of the tub. “Because I’m such a pro at that.”

He’s silent for a moment, then, since he can’t not dwell on something, he continues.“Why weren’t you into him, anyway?”

You sigh.

You’re going to be hearing about this at every opportunity for the forseeable future, you can tell as much now. “I just didn’t find him physically attractive, for whatever reason. Does it matter?”

He smirks. “Not your type, huh? Guess I’m the real winner here after all. So, what was it about me, then? My car? My rebel attitude? My devilishly good looks,” he says, leaning in for a kiss.

You lean toward him as well, and rest one of your hands over his heart. “No, Billy. It had far less to do with all that superficiality and more to do with you.”

You curl your fingers inward

He stops moving, and his brows furrow.

You continue. “You don’t think you’re good enough—don���t think you’re capable of kindness. But, look at everything you’ve done for me since that first night on the side of the road. Taking care of me, paying my way here, looking after me. Just recently nursing me back to health. I…I don’t want to think about where I’d be if you hadn’t been on that same stretch of road at the same time that I was.”

You look down and twine your fingers between his. “I think you were meant to find me... That we were meant to find each other.”

He cups your cheek in his hand then, his eyes now a bit red.

He doesn’t argue—doesn’t remind you about another night where he’d found you on another stretch of road trying to then get away from him. Or yet another late-night bit of asphalt where he’d told you that you were his, after he’d spent an entire day committing actions which said otherwise. 

Your eyes flit to his. “Everyone has their own love language. I think yours is acts of service. You’re a care-taker and you don’t even know it. You’re more selfless than you realize.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not. I wouldn’t have done all of this for anyone else.”

He leans in toward you even further. “Anyone.”

He cups the back of your head of wet hair, and he presses his lips to yours.