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mickyschumacher · 10 months ago

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[GORGEOUS!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you were in love with f1's beloved honey badger and you had been for almost year. but why in the world had you instead fallen for his teammate? or in which infidelity has laid it's sticky little hands on you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: slight angst, infidelity naturally, falling out of love, steamy makeout sesh, suggestive content, pining, sad boy hours for daniel, lando being kind of a sneaky bastard, age-gap between reader and boys (8 years for dan and 2 years for lan), reader born in australia, set in 2020/2021, false or incorrect marine biology lingo and protocols lol, mention of crossiant horner, poor explanation of f1, mentions of insecurity, proof-read...ish

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: daniel ricciardo x marine biologist!female reader, lando norris x marine biologist!female reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: i felt bad for not posting so here's me digging into my reserves! written when i did more song-based fics!! i wish life wasn't so busy 🤧 i have started a few thingsssssss but it's definitely going to be a while before i post them sorry 😣

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You, honestly, were a normal girl. Mundane as mundane gets. Never once had you imagined of cameras, headlines and the need for a PR specialist in your life.

But it's what you had gotten. That's what Daniel Ricciardo came with.

You had met the Australian on pure accident. It was late 2020 and the season had just come an end. Hamilton was a six-times World Champion and Daniel had his last season with Renault. He hadn't got the result he wanted but he was optimistic about his future with McLaren. So eventually, he headed home to Australia for the Christmas holidays.

Now you would like to consider yourself a well-versed Australian. Especially considering you were born there. Robert Irwin was the most beloved Australian for years to come and Margot Robbie and Chris Hemsworth were your Aussie reps in America.

Somehow, however, you had never really got F1 or Formula One. That's not to say you hadn't heard of it. Honestly, for the past few years it was difficult to pass Albert Park in the summer of March without it flashing in front of your eyes. But if someone were to ask you anything about it, you would blink blankly and apologise.

Which is exactly what you did in early December. You were out having lunch with your closest friends at a local cafe, catching up on the year in the fresh yet skin-damaging Aussie sun.

You were in midst conversation when a brunette girl politely interrupted you. "Hi, sorry. This is going to sound really weird. I'm doing this on a bet. But do all three of you know that man over there? In the hat?”

You looked over to her table full of people. It seemed like she was with her family and friends. You and your friends zoned on the man in the hat, a guy who was trying to not make it obvious that he was aware of what was going on.

You scrutinised him carefully and unsurprisingly, you didn’t know him. Surprisingly, you did find that he was attractive. The curly hair, the scruff… you wondered whether he was actually Australian because no men in Australia looked like that.

Your two friends nodded while confirming with one another. “It’s Daniel, right? The driver?” One of them asked.

Your other friend hummed in agreement.

The brunette looked over at you. You blinked at her as your face slowly morphed into an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

The brunette, which you expected to be somewhat sad about it, ended up smiling while your friends’ faces dropped.

“Thank you! Oh my god. You have no idea what you’ve just done!” The brunette laughed loudly, capturing the attention of her table. She pointed at the man in the hat, clutching her stomach. “She doesn’t know who you are, Danny. Take that!”

Similarly to your friends, the male’s face dropped. He looked at you and tilted his head.

When Daniel actually saw you for the first time, he was in shock. Not the type of shock of an Aussie not knowing who he was. But rather the shock of being in the presence as someone as beautiful as you.

Your eyes were tantalising and your apologetic expression was cute.

He waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s okay. I’m just an F1 driver.”

You nodded in slow understanding. Maybe you had in fact seen his posters in Albert Park. Honestly, you couldn’t be sure. Life as a marine biologist was busy and all over the place. Recognising celebrities or athletes was kind of the last thing on your mind.

━━━━━━━━━━━

That day you went home with the expectation of a normal tomorrow. One where you were out at the ocean and exploring the waters you had loved so much.

You wish you could say it came as a shock to see that same curly haired man on the wharf, but given the current temperatures that heavily contrasted your winter, it was reasonable as any other Aussie here.

What you didn’t expect was you passing him to get to your boat and then hearing a voice enter the air. “Hey! Excuse me. Sorry. You’re the girl from yesterday, right?”

You turned to the man, hand over your eyes to protect yourself from the harsh rays and take a closer look at him. Just in case it wasn’t him.

“Uh, yeah? You’re the driver, right?”

Daniel gave a wide smile, extending out his hand. “I’m Daniel. Daniel Ricciardo.”

Oh my. What a smile he had. The type to make you feel happy just by looking at it. You couldn’t even help but smile in response. You reached out to shake his hand, not ready to feel a weird sort of spark between the two of you.

“I... I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Daniel slowly removed his hand from yours, grabbing any last second he could. He eyed the briefcase and scuba gear in your hands. “You diving?”

You looked at your equipment. “Well, testing. I’m a marine biologist. Although, I guess I’m still diving.”

Daniel pursed his lips. Now he had to get to know you. You were beautiful and a marine biologist. An Aussie dream.

“Oh yeah? What are you testing?” He queried with a raised brow,

“Oh! Uh, currently things like the local fish populations in decline. Their habitat. Whether they’re safe or not. Algae growth. Predators. pH levels. All the fun stuff...” You sheepishly trailed off once you realised you began rambling.

You didn’t know but in that moment Daniel was in awe of you. The twinkle in your eyes that rose once you talked about your work. Like your work was your passion. That’s how he felt about F1.

You watched Daniel nod as if he were actually interested. “Do you mind if I come with? I won’t contaminate anything. Promise.”

You mended your brows together. It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask to join. But the way Daniel said it… like it was something he had to do or he would regret it for the rest of his life, you couldn’t help feel compelled. “Um, yeah. Do you not have to be on the road or something though? ‘Cause your a driver?”

“Oh F1 only goes between March and November. We’re on holiday at the moment. Well sort of.”

“Oh,” you mumbled out cluelessly. Your cheeks burned with a tinge of embarrassment. How had you managed to get through all these years of living and not known about this?

Daniel laughed lightly at the reddening of your cheeks. Just when he though he could find you any cuter. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you F1. And you can teach me the ocean.”

So the two of you went into your boat. The sun beat down onto you so harshly that for most of it, you had retreated to driving the vessel in the shade as Daniel sat next to you.

It had gone so well that this, whatever it was, became a regular occurrence after you exchanged numbers that day.

You were learning a lot about him and his job. He was actually Italian-Australian. He started this passion with go-karting. You found out F1 wasn’t just racing but it was racing to another extreme. 300 kph. God, getting your car to 100 kph for the open road was thrill enough for you.

That made Daniel wheeze with laughter and promise he would take you for a drive in a sports car to get a taste of the speed he craved for.

Apparently F1 had 10 teams, each with 2 drivers. In each of the teams, the drivers had the same car to drive, cars that were constructed originally by each team. The point of the races were for two championships. The Driver’s World Championship, the title the driver wanted to win, and the Constructors’ Championship, the title everyone from the driver to the team strategist wanted to win. They were calculated by the amount of points received by the drivers in the races.

All the races were settled through a long weekend of sorts. Fridays were for practices to see how the car was on the track as they had different conditions per track. Saturdays were for qualifying. Here, Daniel would push the car to its limits to get the fastest lap time as the drivers were ranked to then get a position for the actual race tomorrow. Sundays were where they raced for points.

All of it was slightly complex, especially with the penalties and rules that they followed. Buy you seemed to get the gist of it.

Daniel had learnt that you had grown up in Australia and like him had to travel a lot for your work. Weirdly, some times his race dates would match up with your travelling. Daniel chose to take that as a sign. You were 8 years younger than him, taking him by a slight surprise. You were 23 and he was 31. But it didn’t seem like it mattered to you. Communication between the two of you was a smooth sail.

Daniel even opened up about his time with Red Bull. A whirl of bad and annoying memories. But when you had said that you would like to see Christian Horner step on to your boat and throw him overboard into a tank of piranhas, only for thirty seconds of course, Daniel had never laughed harder.

━━━━━━━━━━━

By the billionth time you had hung out, the sun was setting in the evening, providing a refreshing cold breeze to match the heat. Christmas was close soon. And Daniel was aching to ask you out.

He had to go into this next season of driving knowing he had you by his side. Even his own family was pushing him to ask. Especially his sister, Michelle, who had dubbed herself the cupid as she was the very brunette who had technically introduced you two, or so she claimed.

The both of you had finished a dive and were heading to Daniel's car. You were supposed to have dinner with his family on this fine evening.

"You good, Danny?" You looked over to the man. Daniel, for the loud and outgoing person he was, was being rather quiet today. You couldn't really put your finger on why either. You took pride in being able to read people. But it looked like his mind was at some sort of battle.

He gave an idle hum, getting into the driver's seat.

You raised a brow, closing the door on the passenger side shut. Your hand reached out to his thigh, making him break his trance and flicker his eyes towards you.

"Listen, I don't know what it is or what's going on. But I'm all ears if you want," You smiled, patting his thigh. You went to remove your hand but Daniel placed his hand over yours, keeping you there.

Daniel's heart was in his throat. He was not normally a nervous man. He was the epitome of confidence. But you seemed to tear that down, in the nicest way, quite easily.

Daniel absorbed your curious eyes before releasing a shaky breath. "Uh," he awkwardly chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "I'm not normally like this. I can't really explain it... but these past few weeks, I... I haven't felt like this in a really long time. With you I feel free... happy... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really like you. And even if I'm ancient, I would really like to be with you. You know. Together. If that wasn't clear."

The smile on your face the moment you realised what was going on hadn't stopped growing. You watches his eyes dart around, looking for a signal of anything. A yes. A no.

You looked down at your hands. The warmth of his spread among your one. You turned your hand to intertwine them with his and squeezed his hand, looking back up at him. "I think you took the words right out my mouth. I like you too, Danny. A lot. Even as an 'old ass man.'"

An odd silence settled within the car as Daniel simply stared at you, honey brown eyes hold your own.

"Danny? Are you okay?"

Daniel's eyes turned into crescents while his infamous wide smile sprawled onto your face. "Can I kiss you?"

You stilled in the passenger seat. Your eyes flickered to his lips before meeting his eyes once again. You weren't sure if you could trust your voice at the moment so you gave a curt nod.

Daniel smiled softly at the flustered expression you sported. Instead of leaning his head in like you expected to, he reached over to your seat and lifted you out of it. You released a small yelp before landing onto his lap, straddling his crotch as you faced towards him.

Daniel's fingers played with the slightly dampened tresses that had fallen around your face and pushed them behind your ears. His fingers trailed down to your heated cheeks and to your jaw. Bringing you closer to him, he leaned his head towards you.

Daniel's lips fell into yours. His hands soon fell to your back as your arms snaked his neck. The world... your surroundings were all gone. All you could feel was each other. His fingers sneaking past the hem of your shirt and grazing your bare skin. The action sent a wave of heat within you.

You let out a small muffled moan causing Daniel to adjust himself in his seat. A bulge had formed in his pants, aching at your touch. You released yourself from him for a gasp of air, which fell into further pleasurable gasps as Daniel's swollen lips had found your neck, leaving a trail of small sloppy kisses.

Daniel rested his chin onto your shoulder before pulling back to look at you. He grinned at your dazed expression. "As much as I would like to continue this in such a fitting setting like a car, I would rather our first time in an actual bed."

You let out a small laugh, feeling yourself fluster even further while you gave him a tight hug.

And that's how your relationship had started. Since then, it had been almost a year. In that year, you had gotten impossibly closer. You had visited his races without telling him because you were scared. You were scared of distracting him and scared for him. The first F1 race you went to matched up to your meetings with other marine biologists and techs in Spain. God, you didn't know cars could even go that fast. The occasional toss of a car to the side sent fear coursing through you.

Eventually, Daniel had found out and reassured you that you being there wouldn't harm anything. In fact, the thought of it calmed him down and encouraged him. He had even introduced you to some of the team and whispered in your ear when he pointed to Red Bull's team principal.

"Oh... so that's the man going overboard. That's a shame. You didn't tell me he look like a sea otter. Sea otters are supposed look cute. I'll just pretend he's plant plankton."

Daniel had never laughed harder at something. Just when he thought he couldn't love you more. God, you were a sight to behold. He would never understand how you managed to be who you were.

You had felt the same.

Well, at least that was until when you met his new teammate in McLaren, Lando Norris.

Lando was two years younger than you and what some people called the British Ricciardo. He was constantly smiling and cracking jokes. He was the moodmaker.

The vibe he had was like an annoying little brother of a sort.

But people obviously didn't feel attracted to someone if they truly thought of them like that.

You shouldn't feel this way. It was wrong. You had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who adored you. You had tried to keep yourself occupied with your job to avoid having to attend too many races and meet the McLaren team, in fear of meeting Lando.

But of course, how were you going to refuse to celebrate Lando's 2nd podium of the year in Monaco when Daniel asked?

So here you were. In a club dressed in a cream coloured set: a long sleeved bralette and a long skirt starting from your waist, ending just before your heels with a slit in the middle.

The compliment you had received in your ear from Daniel made you wish you could say you were dressed for him in the first place. But it would be a lie to say that.

You had navigated yourself around the club to drown yourself in some alcohol. You needed a distraction and you felt that being some what drunk and out of it would've helped.

you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talk. you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong. and i got a boyfriend, he's older than us he's in the club doing, i don't know what you're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.

You were out of it for sure. Because sober you did not have the guts you had right now. The guts to not only sit at the same table as Lando but next to him and make fun of his British accent with Carlos.

"No, Carlos. I'm pretty sure he sounded like 'No no no... you ruined my ice cream,'" You laughed lightly as the Spaniard refused to agree with you.

"No he has bit of a weird sound at the 'ruined' part. He sound like those kids in the UK... on the road? What are they again..."

Lando's face burst with amusement. He laughed so hard, he had to prevent his cup from falling out of his hand. "Do you mean..." He gasped for air, "Roadmen?"

Jesus. Carlos Sainz discussing roadmen was the funniest thing that had happened so far.

You weren't sure where Daniel was even. All you knew he was probably talking to some other team member of McLaren. You were rather preoccupied and entranced by the British male next to you.

You couldn't explain it but it was as if there was a magnetic field around him and you, like an element, were simply attracted to him. As if there was no other path to go. He made you laugh differently. Feel differently. He was also a looker. That boyish charm that simply pulled you in. It made you wonder how strong his magnetic field was.

The science of it was simple. You may be a marine biologist but you hadn't flunked physics. The stronger the intensity of a field, the further the magnet, Lando, will be able to attract elements, like you. All you knew was that he was strong enough to inexplicably take you attention away from your own boyfriend.

you're so gorgeous i can't say anything to your face 'cause look at your face. and i'm so furious at you for making me feel this way but what can i say? you're gorgeous.

This attraction you felt to Lando what ridiculous in itself. But you had felt it from when you first met him and you felt it now. Lando was simply gorgeous. His smile was breathtaking. His laugh felt pretty.

And it infuriated you. You wanted to yell at him, tell him to stop. These feelings, this flutter, this tingle... make it all stop, you wanted to say.

But you could never say that to his face. How could you? Those same things came back every time you looked at him.

The smile. The flutter. The tingle.

You wondered whether he had even looked at himself in the mirror. You wondered whether ever had felt insecure about the way he looked and that if he did, you wished he hadn't.

Everything thing about him was simply enticing. A delightful view... from the arms of Daniel.

you should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you. and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room. if you've got a girlfriend, i'm jealous of her. but if you're single that's honestly worse. 'cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts.

This feeling... this infatuation was overwhelming for you. You were a taken girl. You had even made it was to the multiple Instagram F1 'WAGs' accounts and were met with the most glorious welcomes by fans.

You needed to get a grip on yourself for Christ's sake. Lando was also taken. Even if he was single, which if you were being honest was an insult to romance itself, you didn't have a chance let alone now. No matter how jealous you were, you had to be realistic. You paled in comparison to the fame Portuguese models that F1 drivers often found themselves with.

Of course, you had to admit they were beautiful. You had no conflict with them. They weren't your classic mean girls. They were impossibly nice and you even found yourself in some interesting conversations. But at the end of the day, you were simply a marine biologist.

So in the darkness of the club, you had managed to isolate yourself from Lando, who had gone with Pierre somewhere, and made the struggling and gruelling effort to talk to anyone else but him. You had conversed with Carlos before he had gone somewhere with his girlfriend. You had settle for Charles as a distraction.

Charles was a pleasure to talk to. As always, he was also so kind and sweet with his words. The type you were sure that when you looked at the, you knew that their mother raised them right.

Daniel had finally found his way to you, mentioning that Zak Brown had just pulled him aside for a talking to. You asked if he was okay, in which he responded with a smile and said: "Now that I'm with you, yes."

You managed to give him a soft and believable smile. Daniel was standing behind you, joining in your conversation with Charles. It wasn't until you were in the midst of a conversation about life in Monaco that you felt a hand on yours.

You smiled gently, expecting it to be Daniel's but instead it was Lando's.

ocean blue eyes looking in mine. i feel like i might sink and drown and die.

Your eyes snapped up to meet Lando's face. His blue eyes bore into yours.

Those goddamn eyes of his would be the end of you. The similarity of them to the oceans you had travelled and the beautiful creatures you had seen was uncanny.

Your heart paced furiously against your chest. He must've been drunk or tipsy to the very least to stumble onto you. There was no way he had purposely wanted you to drown in his eyes.

You sucked in a quiet sharp breath and edged to removed your hand. But as quickly as you had made that decision, the gnawing feeling at your heart had grown more intense and taunted you. Lando's hand hurried to grab yours and place it back where it was.

Your eyes shook with awe and lingered with a dangerous thrill. You could feel his fingers rub the back of your hand gently before intertwining them.

You looked blankly at the table in front of you while Lando had joined in the conversation so casually, like nothing was even going on. You had to thank your stars that the club was able to be as dark as it was.

A lot of the noise around you had turned into white noise and blurs of sound. Charles must've complimented you as you had managed to capture some mention of fish and coral reefs from your boyfriend.

you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and you are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad. you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats alone unless, you wanna come along?

It was Daniel kissing your cheek fondly and Lando's hand grazing your knee under the table that had brought you back to reality.

The happiness and adrenaline you felt was wrong. You knew with every crevice and fibre of your body that this had to stop. This attraction and sickly sweet infatuation with Lando. God, he just made you so fuzzy. You could barely think straight.

You were stuck in between two men who had their touch on you. It wasn't right. As much as you liked Lando, he angered your entire being. He had simply waltzed into your life. He was playing along with your feelings.

Lando's damning eyes averted to you when he felt your hand slip away from him forcefully.

You hoped the guilt in your eyes shone as much as they could in this darkness.

You were going to have to break up with a man who would give you everything. You would have to leave all of... this... and get away from here.

You needed everything to return to normal. You had no idea how exactly you were going to explain a sudden return home without inflicting any suspicion.

All you knew now was that you had to make a lengthy apology to a man you had not realised you had fallen out of love with.

You supposed that was love.

Love was a bittersweet feeling. It was beautiful and fluttering but brought a lot of tragedy and strife along with it.

That was love: simply gorgeous.

#mickyschumacher #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo

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endlessthxxghts · 1 year ago

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You Better Jump... (1 of 2)

neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈2.5k

Summary: You wake up after a drunk night out to the lock on your door broken. The neighbor who lives in the same apartment complex as you offers to fix it for you.

Warnings: canon divergent (no outbreak) & mentions of Sarah but we don't see or interact with her (AU - she moved out, lives on her own). allusions to further sexual activity between reader and Joel, mainly fluff and flirting and embarrassing interactions that'll give you butterflies, an unhinged best friend (vulgar dialogue from said best friend), cellphone audio connecting elsewhere where other people can hear..., 18+ MDNI. F masturbation in a bathtub, Joel having incredible self control until he doesn't, making out... (I think that's it! As always, let me know if there's anything I missed that should be in here!)

Author's note: I intended for this to be a one shot, but I just know the next part will be pretty long. I still need to write up a few more details for part 2, but it will be posted VERY SOON! For now, please enjoy this. :)

PART 2 HERE (VERY NSFW, 18+ MDNI)!! || MASTERLIST

“Shit, I don’t even know which lock to get,” you mutter to yourself as you stand helplessly in the middle of the aisle.

You went to the bar last night, got a little too drunk for your own good, and when you woke up in the morning, your front door’s lock was broken. You genuinely don’t know how that happened, but you do know that you need to fix it as soon as possible, especially with the fact that you just moved in not too long ago and you live alone.

“Hey there,” a rough Texan drawl says, pulling you out of your thoughts. You look up to see a tall, broad man. Soft, brown eyes, a mustache and some scruff along his jawline. He’s clad in a dark blue t-shirt and some jeans. He’s handsome, and oh god, you’ve been completely gawking at him instead of responding. You finally meet his stare, and his eyes twinkle in delight, like he’s enjoying the attention you’re giving him. “Oh, hi, uh- I’m sorry, just kinda zoned out there for a sec,” you ramble on, trying to save yourself from the embarrassment.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “don’t worry about that.” He smiles, and you’ve never experienced anything more beautiful. “I, uh, couldn’t help but recognize ya, and overhear ya about the locks?” You give a confused look, and he continues, “I think we live in the same apartment complex. You just moved in a few weeks ago, right? I’m Joel.”

You are seriously so confused right now because you are so sure you would never forget if you had a neighbor that looks this handsome. And apparently all your defenses are down right now because you just fucking said that out loud.

You can see Joel’s cheeks and neck flush into a bright red, his hand shooting up to rub the back of his neck and the blush in your face follows. “Holy shit, I did not just fucking say that out loud,” you groan as you bury your hands into your face. You realize you still haven’t introduced your name, so you quickly squeak it out. He tells you it’s nice to meet you followed by your name, and he rambles on, “And I, uh, I’m flattered...you’re, uh, not too bad yourself.” Your head shoots up, and you swear your face cannot get even redder, but somehow it does.

He senses that you can’t handle anymore of this god awful attempt at flirting, so he saves you by continuing his original thought. “Well, what I was tryna say was- I overheard you sayin’ ya didn’t know which lock to choose? I’m pretty handy in the maintenance department, and I’ve helped a few neighbors in our complex with much more complicated than door locks. Maybe I can help ya?” You feel all the stress from your body completely fade away, and you absolutely take advantage of this beautiful man offering to help with your locks.

“Oh my god, really? I owe you one, thank you so so much,” you tell him. He smiles. “It’s no trouble at all, darlin,’” he says as he grabs the correct lock for the apartment complex, “this is the one we’d need.”

All you came here for was for the lock, but you ended up staying with him and having conversation throughout his entire Home Depot run. Turns out he’s a contractor, used to live in a home but since his daughter moved out he doesn’t find the necessity of having a big home for himself. He didn’t sell it though, he let his brother and his wife take it over. Very minimalist kind of guy.

You forget you two didn’t drive to the store together, so you’re almost kind of bummed at the fact that you have to separate from him. He bids you goodbye and says he has to run a few more errands. “Shouldn’t be more than an hour or two. Is it okay if I swing by your place then?”

You’ve been so entranced by his presence and your guys’ conversation that you forgot the entire reasoning behind why you began talking in the first place, and it’s heavily evident in your confused look. His lip quirks up again, “…to fix your door lock,” he adds, amused.

You mentally slap your forehead. Fucking get it together, you think to yourself. “Yes,” you immediately blabber out as soon as you realize you’ve gone quiet again. “Yes, that’s perfect.”

“Alright, darlin’, I’ll see you in a few,” he says as he shoots you a wink and begins walking in the direction of his truck, and there goes that nickname again.

Oh, you are absolutely fucked.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s a ten minute drive back home, and as soon as you get back in the car, you call your best friend and tell her what an absolute fool you made out of yourself.

“BITCH,” she screams, gasping for air at how hard she’s laughing, “I can’t fucking stand you, oh my god, I’m crying.”

“You’re such a bitch,” you tell her, while tears are also streaming down your face, attempting to catch your breath. “Dude, I swear, once you get a good look at him, you’ll see what the fuck I’m talking about, and you’ll see my reaction was VALID to such a beautiful looking man.”

She stays on the phone with you for the rest of your little drive, and ends your guys’ conversation with, “In all seriousness, though, you better jump on that di-”

You gasp out and yell her name, “OH MY GOD, you’re done. Goodbye.”

She cackles, “Update me later, babe. I love you.”

“I love you more, you fuckin’ menace,” you say as you park.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Your next few hours are filled with you absolutely stressing. You know Joel is just coming to fix the door, but you can’t shake away the nerves. So you spend the first hour absolutely deep cleaning your apartment.

You still have about maybe an hour left, so you decide to try and calm your nerves some more with a quick bath. You quickly undress and give yourself a quick wash in the shower to wash all of today’s dirt before you set up your bath.

Filling up the tub, you throw in some lavender scented bubbles and light your favorite cashmere vanilla candle, the combination of the scents immediately relaxing you. Maybe a little too relaxed, though, because as you sink deeper into the tub, your body can’t help but continue to rise in heat at the thought of Joel. Without thinking, your eyes slowly close and your hand drifts closer to where you’re aching the most.

You start by drawing soft circles on your clit, pulling soft little mewls from your throat. The thought of those big rough hands pushes you to move a little faster, and the thought of that scruff rubbing against your inner thigh pushes you to dip your middle and ring finger into your entrance, pumping in and out with such a need you haven’t experienced in a while. The sounds coming out of you now are high pitched and whiny, and you can’t help the way your body writhes against the bathtub, sloshing water out the sides.

Your hips are grinding up against your palm, stimulating your clit while your fingers hit that velvety spot that drives you absolutely mad. You bring your other hand up to your mouth as a reflex to silence your sounds, but an image flashes in your mind that it was Joel’s hand over your mouth instead, and that’s what ends you.

Your eyes clamp shut, head thrown back, spine completely arched, and all you can see are little white fireworks behind your eyelids as your orgasm breaks you, the lukewarm water feeling hotter than when you first drew the bath.

You sit there for a moment to catch your breath, willing your body to work since the man you just touched yourself to should be here in any minute.

You dry yourself off, putting your hair up in a towel and dressing in some gray sweat-shorts and a tank top, not caring to completely doll your figure since he’s in your home after all. Right as you finish up your skincare, you hear a knock at your door. You take one more look at yourself, and you’re still absolutely flushed with a hint of that orgasmic glow, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If he can make you cum like that with just the thought of him, you’re absolutely gonna take your best friend’s advice from earlier.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You open the door for him and immediately the heat you tried to save yourself from is back, tenfold. “Hey, darlin’,” he says with a smile. The nickname makes the butterflies in your tummy flutter harder than before. You give a sweet smile back. It’s his turn to melt, but you don’t clock it as easily as he can with you.

He steps inside, a little closer to you, and immediately he falls to his knees. You watch him, wide-eyed, as he pulls out a few little tools from his back pocket, and suddenly you realize you were holding your breath. Here he is, wasting no time getting started on fixing your door for you while you stare at him like he’s giving you a strip tease, all because he got down on his knees.

You clear your throat, trying to regain your composure, and you offer, “C-can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee, tea?”

He looks up at you, and he cannot get enough. Your flushed cheeks, the way your body language shows your excitement and nerves all in one, your towel lopsided on your head. So goddamn beautiful, he thinks to himself. Again, it’s his turn as he zones out in his thoughts, but this time, you do notice, and you can’t help but feel a sense of confidence shoot down your spine at the fact that you’re affecting him just as much as he affects you.

Your smirk grows the longer he stares, and finally he realizes what’s happening, and his face goes tomato red. He’s pretty sure no one has ever seen him blush this much since he was a teenager. “Some water would be wonderful, sweetheart, thank you,” he says, thanking whatever God in existence that his words were coherent and not a blubbering mess like his brain.

“Coming right up,” you say, and make your way into your kitchen, thankful for the little private moment to yourself. As you grab Joel a cup and fill it with ice and water, you feel your phone ring in your pocket. It’s your best friend. You bring your phone to your ear, hitting the answer button on the way up.

“Hello?” you repeat several times before you hear your best friend, but not through your phone. Forgetting the water for a minute, you scramble to the living room, where Joel is right next to, to hear your best friend coming from your living room speaker: Hello? Can you hear me?? I said did you jump on sexy neighbor’s dick ye-

You hurriedly end the call and throw your phone across the room. Your heart starts to pound even harder when you see Joel in your peripheral view, still working hard on the lock, but he is definitely in the proximity to have seen and heard everything. You quickly turn back to the kitchen to grab the glass, purposely avoiding Joel’s eye.

Quickly you grab the glass and place it on the little table near the front door. Joel sits back on his haunches for a moment and takes a long gulp of the ice cold water. Too amused at the display that happened moments ago, he can’t help himself when he says, “So… sounds like ya got your hands full with that friend of yours, hm?” He looks up at you with mischief in his eye.

And just like that, any sense of confidence you had at having the upper hand over this Texan man went down the drain. You completely fumble. “Oh- I- yeah, my best friend… Did you hear- Fuck, no, of course you heard, I-”

Joel pulls himself up to stand at full height, now towering over you. He brings his pointer finger and thumb to your chin, pulling you to meet his eyes while also pulling you from the hole you keep digging deeper. You immediately shut up. He has a crooked grin plastered on his face when he says, “I didn’t hear a thing,” followed by a wink. You can feel your knees wanting to buckle. You breathily squeak out an okay and he assures you with another okay in response. You two stare into each other’s eyes for a moment before Joel, without thinking, says, “Let me take ya out to dinner.”

You slowly pull away from his grasp, afraid you’re invading his space even though he just asked you out on a date. He takes it as a sign of discomfort and immediately creates an arm’s length of space between you. “I-I’m sorry if I overstepped or made you uncomfor-”

“No, Joel, hey,” you cut him off quickly, stepping slightly closer. “You just surprised me, that’s all. I’d love to go to dinner with you,” you beam up at him, your bottom lip wedged in your mouth to ease your nervousness. “I just pulled away because I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything,” you quickly add.

“That’ll never happen,” he softly says. He steps closer again. “I’m sorry, but I- Shit, okay, I’m a gentleman through and through, but I-” he pauses for a moment, “I just- I really need to kiss you-”

You don’t let him finish his thought as you grab onto his arms and pull him into you, guiding both his arms around your lower back and guiding your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. It’s a battle of teeth and tongue, and the way your noses bump each other ever so often is enough for you to completely buckle. His hold on you is tight enough to keep you standing, but you truly don’t know how much more of this you can take with a certain bulge pushing into your lower belly. His one hand falls lower and testing the waters, he lightly grasps onto your asscheek. You moan into his mouth at that, and he takes that as your signal for him to fully grab you, hiking you up onto your tippy toes in an attempt to consume more of you. He breaks the kiss a little to give you some airflow back, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he brings his kisses to the side of your mouth, to your cheek, gliding down your jaw and neck, licking and nipping anywhere you give him access to.

You were right. It’s not quite exactly your thighs like you were imagining earlier, but the way his plump lips, mustache, and scruff feel along your neck is absolutely sinful and addicting, and…

Oh, you are absolutely fucked.

Author's note - extended: I hope you guys enjoyed this enough to tune in to part 2! The 2nd part will be very SMUTTY, so... ;)

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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warping-realities · 4 months ago

Text

Bed and Breakfast (Repost)

"I can't believe you're gonna make me stay in a dump like that," said the gorgeous woman with an arrogant tone towards her boyfriend, not realizing the owner of the cozy little beach inn was eavesdropping.

"Babe, chill out, the place is actually pretty dope and seems super comfy. Plus, it’s got killer reviews on travel sites. We’ll be lucky if there’s even a spot for us here."

"We wouldn’t have to deal with this crap if you had booked a hotel ahead of time."

"Laura, sweetheart, you picked a trendy spot last minute during peak season; there’s no way we’d find a room, and yet you insisted on coming."

"Of course, all the big shots are here. What do you think my followers would say if I didn't show up? An influencer’s gotta stay on top of all the trends, Jeremy, and this is the hot spot right now—God only knows why," Laura shot back, making her boyfriend sigh before being interrupted by a cheerful and upbeat voice.

"Good evening! I’m Cintia, the owner of Cozy Cabin. Welcome! How can I help you?"

"Good evening, ma’am. I’m Jeremy Grant, and this is my fiancée, Laura. We’re looking for a place to crash."

"Oh no! I’m sorry, but we’re all booked up. Reservations have been closed for over two months; we’ve become super popular lately." The woman, who seemed to be of an age that was hard to pin down, responded. Though she showed signs of age, she had a vibe of joy and youth around her, at that moment tainted by genuine sadness at not being able to help. That turned into indignation and anger when the pretty blonde in front of her let out a dismissive giggle followed by a sharp jab at her fiancé. But before Cintia could say anything, Jeremy quickly jumped in.

"Isn’t there even the slightest chance, Cintia? It would just be for one night so Laura can snap some pics and post them; she’s a digital influencer."

"Really? I’ve never heard of you, darling," Cintia said, taking the moment to get back at the rude young woman, who couldn’t help but fire back.

"I work with a younger crowd; it's understandable if someone your age doesn’t know me," Laura replied, making Jeremy cringe and a dangerous glint appear in Cintia’s eyes.

"Ah, trust me, I know how to spot a real influencer with clout. Right now, we’ve got Miguel Ramos, the famous fitness influencer, crashing here; it’s his fifth year visiting us during this time. Which gives me an awesome idea to help you out. If you’ll excuse me for a sec, I’ll be back with some info."

"Stupid hag," Laura muttered bitterly as soon as Cintia left the room.

"Baby, you kinda poked the bear..."

"Don’t you dare take her side, Jeremy. How could she compare me to that fairy Miguel Ramos?"

"Laura, watch your mouth. I’ve heard a lot about Miguel Ramos; he was a respected personal trainer before he blew up as a fitness influencer and has a solid follower base."

That was a huge understatement, and they both knew it. While Laura’s follower count hadn’t even hit the hundreds of thousands mark, Miguel’s had already smashed through the million barrier. And obviously, the vain woman didn’t like being reminded of that and soon found a reason to roast her fiancé.

"Jeremy, that scruff of yours looks awful! How many times have I told you to keep your face smooth? My followers prefer you to match my look!"

Jeremy didn’t know if that was true; Laura’s followers really did hype up how well they matched in appearance. But he couldn’t help but wonder if the fact that Laura dressed him in similar styles to hers, combined with her nagging to keep his face smooth and his blond hair styled in neat curls, made them look so much alike that some people thought they were siblings instead of a couple. It was proof enough of a totally narcissistic nature, as the class bullies loved to shout. But every time those thoughts popped up, Jeremy quickly shoved them aside; he had long accepted that he’d be nobody without his girlfriend, to the point of giving up his career as a gym teacher to follow her, making sure all her wishes were met and canceling himself out in every way. Because he was dead sure he wasn’t worthy of her love and that no one in the world could love him like she did. It was exactly because he thought all this that when he saw Cintia return with a satisfied look on her face, he replied calmly.

"Yeah, babe, that’s the first thing I’ll do once we hit the room."

"My dears, I found a solution; it’s not perfect, but it should help for today," Cintia started with a playful grin and that spark in her eyes. "We have a few rooms with extra beds that aren’t being used, and two of our guests have kindly offered those beds to you for a couple of nights. In two days, Mrs. Goldschmitt will be heading home, and her room will be free if you want to extend your stay."

"You mean you want us to crash in separate rooms?" Laura asked, indignantly.

"It was the best I could do, dear. Of course, if that doesn’t work for you, feel free to scram and find somewhere else," Cintia replied with a frosty smile.

"No, no, that’s cool; we’ll take it!" Jeremy quickly interrupted, wanting to avoid more drama and losing the only place they found.

"Great! Follow me, then; I’ll have one of the staff take your bags to your respective rooms," Cintia said, looking genuinely pleased as she led them down a hallway and a flight of stairs to the first room. She knocked on the door, which was promptly opened by a handsome Latino man in his thirties, with muscles that popped under a fitted white t-shirt and a friendly smile on his rugged, bearded face.

"Goodnight," he said simply, his voice oozing masculinity.

"Miguel, darling! These are Jeremy and Lau..."

"You don’t need to introduce me; I’m sure Miguel knows who I am," Laura interrupted while Miguel stared at her like she was some exotic creature that had just landed in front of him.

"Laura... apparently she’s a digital influencer," Cintia continued as if she hadn’t been rudely interrupted. "Jeremy and Laura, this is Miguel Ramos, the guy we talked about earlier, who kindly agreed to give Jeremy the extra bed in his room."

"Thanks for the lovely intro, Cintia; it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Laura, and you too, Jer..." Miguel started, only to be cut off by Laura.

"I think our followers would love a collab from us."

"Um, sure, we can chat about that tomorrow, Laura. I believe you both are wiped out now, and Cintia still needs to take you to your room."

"Yeah, yeah, you’re right; we’ll sort everything out tomorrow. Shall we bounce then?" Laura wrapped up, talking to Cintia without even saying goodbye to Jeremy, who then stepped up to his girlfriend and kissed her on the cheek.

"Good night, love; sleep tight!" he said before entering the room and watching his fiancée being led away by Cintia.

.....

"Welcome, Jeremy; unfortunately, you’ll have to take the single bed."

"Thanks, Miguel; you didn’t have to do that or pretend to know Laura."

"Ahh, I’m sorry about that, but I thought it was better; I know how sensitive some influencers can be about not being recognized. I’ve never really cared about that, but I’ve seen some awkward situations, to say the least. And about the bed, it’s just a bed; I’m not really using it, and Cintia asked me for a favor; she’s a good friend and helped me out a lot when... anyway, you’re welcome here."

"Still, you didn’t have to do any of that; thanks a ton," Jeremy replied as he prepped to crash, thinking about what Miguel had left unsaid. It was no secret that his breakup with his long-time boyfriend, a big-time film actor, had been a massive bummer, so much so that he had stayed out of the spotlight for months until he was spotted on the beach close to where they were, which is why the interest in the place had exploded. The only news was that he wouldn’t be staying in some fancy hotel but in Cintia’s cozy little inn. Laura should be stoked, Jeremy thought before dozing off; she went looking for copper and apparently struck gold.

Already lying in the single bed, Jeremy found the guts to say something else.

"Miguel, seriously, thanks a bunch; I really appreciate your kindness... but... well... I apologize in advance if Laura throws a fit about the sleeping arrangements... she’s used to getting her way, and... well... there might be some jealousy or something..."

"She doesn’t need to worry, Jeremy; I’m not into guys skinnier, smaller, and younger than me," Miguel joked, but it made Jeremy flinch.

"I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to offend you."

"You didn’t offend me, Jeremy; I was just messing around. You can relax in the room; as far as I’m concerned, it’s as much yours as mine. Have a good night."

…..

The morning sun streamed into the inn's bedroom, causing Jeremy to roll over in bed and wake up, rubbing his eyes, treated to a stunning sight: Miguel in just white underwear, his sculpted body on display, staring intently at the bedroom wall like he was lost in thought. At that moment, Jeremy felt something he never thought he would feel upon seeing another dude: a pang of desire, mixed with a familiar sensation in his dick that he only associated with seeing Laura’s naked beauty. His surprise was so intense that he moved abruptly, waking Miguel from his daydream.

"Good morning; sorry if I woke you; I forgot to close the curtains last night."

"No problem," Jeremy replied, hiding his erection with a pillow.

"Anyway, I’m already heading out for my morning run before breakfast."

"Oh man, I miss doing that!" Jeremy commented.

"Do you do this too?"

"Yeah, I was a physical educator just like you, but since I started following Laura... she’s not a morning person and gets all cranky when I wake her up early... anyway, I’ve been running on the treadmill while she shoots her videos at the gym."

"If you want to train with me..."

"Nah, man, thanks, but no. I’ll catch some more Z’s," Jeremy replied, still trying to hide his erection.

"Then I’ll see you later. Sweet dreams," said a fully dressed Miguel as he left the room, leaving Jeremy alone with his confusing thoughts.

…….

To say the trip had been a letdown for Laura would be a massive understatement. First, Jeremy couldn’t even make a simple reservation and had the nerve to blame her when he should’ve seen this coming. Then there was the beach itself; she had never liked the sun and sea, and just thinking about sand made her skin crawl. But unfortunately, thanks to Miguel Ramos’ star-studded divorce and his apparent bad taste, that little beach was the hot spot for the summer. Ending up in the same inn as him could be a golden opportunity, but for that, she had to deal with the arrogant old bat who owned the place, the fact that her fiancé was sleeping in the same room as that gay dude, and the annoying roommate she was sure had been chosen by the old hag just to irritate her. And it was with a look reflecting her inner bitterness that she waited for her fiancé to show up for breakfast, which only made her angrier, since she wasn’t used to waiting and stubbornly refused to call him. After all, he should know his place and duties!

It was with that sour expression that Miguel found her after taking a shower and getting dressed as quietly as possible to avoid waking the still-snoozing Jeremy. Seeing that expression made him seriously consider making a run for it from the breakfast room without being seen, especially since he hadn’t had a great first impression of Laura, which was confirmed when he checked out the kind of content she produced, with Jeremy looking more like an accessory to her outfit than an actual boyfriend, raising the suspicion that maybe the other guy was stuck in an abusive relationship like he himself had experienced until recently. But before he had time to bolt, their eyes locked, and a practiced smile crept onto her face, not quite reaching her predatory eyes. Knowing that game all too well, Miguel plastered on a smile just as fake as hers and approached her table.

"Good morning, Miguel; I hope Jeremy’s snoring wasn’t too much of a bother," Laura said, kicking off the conversation in the worst way possible and making Miguel’s smile fade.

"On the contrary, it didn’t bother me at all; Noah snored way worse," he replied, a look of irritation briefly crossing Laura’s face due to the comparison with her ex-husband. Wasn’t it enough that her boyfriend was sleeping in the same room as him?

"You’re too kind, but it’s my fiancé you’re talking about; no one knows him like I do."

"Of course, and if you’ll let me say, checking out your posts on social media it’s clear to see all your influence on him," Miguel replied, barely hiding the sarcasm in his voice.

"Thanks. It was hard work," Laura shot back without realizing the dig hidden in his comment. "Speaking of work, when are we gonna do our collab?" she concluded.

"We’ll definitely figure something out," he replied in turn, knowing that as far as he was concerned, that was never gonna happen. "If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment now. Maybe you should check on Jeremy; when I left the room, he was out cold. It seemed to me like he hadn’t slept that well in ages." He finished with a bright, genuine smile before exiting the room, leaving a fuming Laura behind.

Although Miguel’s statement was meant to poke at Laura, it wasn’t too far from the truth. Jeremy had slept like a baby and didn’t even stir when Miguel returned to the room and got ready for breakfast. If he had woken up, he would’ve been mortified, because he ended up ripping off his pajama shirt in his sleep, and without realizing it, he reached for his erection that had returned with Miguel’s presence in the room, while his mind filled with one of the most different and vivid dreams he’d ever had. In the dream, he found himself lying completely naked on a beach not too different from the one the inn was on, and with the sun bathing his body, a beautiful blonde woman approached and began kissing his naked body. He couldn’t tell if it was Laura or not, because each kiss in the dream sent him into an ecstasy so intense that it overshadowed any sense other than pleasure, so much so that he only realized the figure in his dream had shifted to a muscular, bearded man with his dark body glistening with sweat in the morning sun, just seconds before he was jolted awake by the indignant voice of his fiancée.

"Jeremy, so this is what you were doing instead of meeting me for breakfast? Jerkin’ off in that queer’s room? How disgusting!" Laura barked, her face twisted in outrage as she found her boyfriend in that compromising position. Jeremy, caught off guard, shot back without thinking.

"Never use that kind of word in my presence again, Laura; if there’s anything disgusting, it’s those expressions!"

"Jeremy, how dare you correct me! Disgusting, yes, and even more disgusting are the habits of these faggots, but apparently, you’re already pretty used to it, huh? Jerk off in one of their bedrooms? And you didn’t even shave that gross beard. As if you just cut your hair without talking to me, I’m at my limit!" she fired back, causing all the layers of inhibition to come crashing down on a now more awake Jeremy.

"I’m sorry, babe; I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. Give me a few minutes to get ready, and we can have breakfast together," he said, falling back into his servile habits as he struggled to understand what she meant about his beard and hair.

"Well, you can have your breakfast alone. And you don’t even need to come with me to the beach; I’ll take Kayla to help me. Make the most of your day without my presence!" she replied angrily, storming out of the room and leaving a confused and still groggy Jeremy behind.

He, in turn, stood up and stretched, losing his balance a bit as he felt the strange sensation that he seemed to be a good few inches taller, which he knew was nonsense, since no one grows overnight other than the fact that he had been this height since the start of his adult life, which had helped him in many volleyball and basketball games when he was younger. Other activities he missed but couldn’t find time in his day to practice. He had never resented Laura for these things, but deep down, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation for having given up pretty much all his interests for hers. Shaking his head in an attempt to shove those intrusive thoughts aside, he headed to the bathroom and took a long shower, knowing it was pointless to look for his girlfriend while she was in that mood; poor Kayla, whoever she was, would have to put up with Laura that morning, he thought with uncharacteristic sarcasm as he soaped the six-pack abs on his torso, this time without trying to shake that thought away. After stepping out of the shower, he looked at himself in the mirror; for someone who could no longer stick to a strict workout routine, he looked pretty damn good; he was lean but built, and his short beard accentuated the angles of his face, framed by his golden curls.

Maybe it was time for Laura to learn to appreciate the boyfriend she had better, he thought, leaving the bathroom without shaving, before changing and getting ready to enjoy a morning of sun and sea without Laura’s constant complaints and orders, which without a doubt was the best thing that could have happened, said a new invasive thought that once again did not go away.

……..

Jeremy wandered along the seawall for several minutes, feeling the sand beneath his feet, the scent of the sea breeze filling his lungs, and the sun’s rays bathing his fair skin, even though he knew he risked getting burned; it felt too good to let go. After wandering for a long time, he sat down on the beach and simply let himself be engulfed by it all, a wave of peace and completeness washing over him. Without realizing that the longer he stayed there, the less white his skin became, turning to a golden summer tone, while his muscles expanded slightly, giving him the look of someone who worked out regularly and carefully. Lost in his own mind he found himself searching for Miguel Ramos' name on social media, and getting lost in the other man's posts.

And there he would have stayed without noticing the changes if he hadn’t been interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Hey, roomie, watch out for a burn on your skin!"

Looking up he came face to face with the target of his interested scrutiny in all his glory with a beautiful smile plastered on his face.

"I may not have your Latin genes, Miguel, but it’s been a hot minute since I’ve burned!" he replied, smiling, as that strange feeling invaded him again.

"Still, the sun around here is way stronger than what you’re used to. Let me help you," Miguel replied, approaching with a tube of sunscreen in his hands. "That is, if you don’t mind."

Jeremy did care, not because of any prejudice but because of the fear of what that closeness would make him feel, not to mention the erection that threatened to return. But at the same time, he couldn’t resist that offer.

"No problem; I think you’re exaggerating, but Laura will be a total nightmare if I burn; she already hates my skin being so tanned."

"What nonsense; your skin is gorgeous; that tan pops real nice against your blonde hair; it gives you a healthy vibe, especially with those defined muscles."

"Thanks, dude; it’s nice to hear a compliment from... hummm," he groaned when he felt the other guy’s strong hands massaging his back.

"Something wrong?" Miguel asked.

"No... no... it’s just that the sunscreen was cold."

"Ah, I’m done. Just a little more down here," Miguel said, his hands moving toward Jeremy’s buttocks, making him tense up.

"Okay, do you want me to apply it on your front?"

"No, you don’t need to; I’ll handle that myself," Jeremy quickly responded, taking the sunscreen from Miguel’s hand without even thinking about those manly hands being so close to his cock.

"And where’s Laura? I thought you were helping with her content."

Thinking about his girlfriend brought an unexpected wave of irritation to Jeremy, like a cloud blocking out the morning sun.

"We had a blowout earlier... she did what she always does, said what she wanted, and bailed on me; I guess hoping I’d chase after her... but not this time... she can fend for herself with her new BFFO," he replied with a touch of bitterness that didn’t go unnoticed by Miguel.

"Relationships can be a real pain sometimes."

"Ours isn’t, but I’m starting to think it’s just because I’m used to canceling myself out for her."

Miguel, who had already picked up on that, chose not to comment.

"Anyway, we should catch up later and sort this out; I still love her, of course, but some things are gonna have to change in our relationship."

"So how about we hit that run now, a little return to your old self?"

"Are you sure you’ll keep up with me, with all this extra size and already running before..."

"Boy, show some respect; I’m not one of the most well-known personal trainers in the world for nothing."

"Then we’ll see!" Jeremy shot back, getting up and taking off running.

……

Laura trudged through the beach sand with disgust. Her morning, like the rest of the trip, had been a total drag. Kayla was pleasant company, sharing the same interests as her, though she was in a lower tier with only a few tens of thousands of followers. Still, she expected Laura to return the favors she did by asking her to take pictures and film videos of her. Simply unbearable. And it was all Jeremy’s fault, obviously. She still couldn’t believe her useless boyfriend hadn’t come looking for her, and even worse, it was her forced to hunt him down again in that damned sand for the second time that day.

With that feeling, she watched two muscular dudes running from the beach edge towards the sea while laughing loudly and then diving in. A ridiculous and childish behavior in her book. So what was her surprise when she saw that one of those guys, the tanned blonde with a pompadour and a faded side cut, sporting a full beard just as blonde, smile and approach her with his muscular, sun-kissed body still glistening from the seawater.

"Hey babe, how was the morning?"

"Jeremy, how dare you leave me hanging like that! And that beard, you said you were gonna trim it! And your hair??? What the hell is this?"

"No hell, Laura. They look the way I like!"

"But not how my followers and I expected! You’re almost bald! That tan and those bulging muscles just don’t cut it!"

"Don’t blow it out of proportion, Laura; if I decide to shave all my hair, I will. Your followers have nothing to do with how I choose to style my hair or beard."

"Of course, it has everything to do with it; you’re my boyfriend; you affect how people see me!"

"Apparently, that’s the only thing I’m good for, how I make others perceive you."

"And how would it be any different? I make a living off this; I’m an influencer, and my boyfriend needs to be on brand with me."

"I’m not your accessory, Laura."

"Well, babe, in the end, it’s like you are!"

"So I don’t know if I even wanna keep this relationship going," he replied, turning his back on a furious Laura.

"Jeremy! Don’t you dare! Jeremyyyy....!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, but he didn’t look back and walked aimlessly toward the other side of the beach, under the watchful eye of Miguel Ramos.

…..

Jeremy wandered the beach for several minutes, trying to calm the influx of thoughts. He was torn between the despair of losing the woman he thought he loved and the growing contempt for that same woman. How could he have canceled himself out for so long? How could he not see who she was? And at the same time, she had been his life for the past few years; how could he live without her? There’s no way he could do that! Deciding to run back after her and humble himself for her forgiveness, he started sprinting. He only stopped when he heard the voice that made him start to associate with that strange feeling, a mix of desire and discomfort.

"Hey, Big Guy, what’s the rush?" asked a grinning Miguel, sitting on a bench at a beach bar.

"Sorry, Miguel; I need to find Laura!"

"And what’s the point in talking to her with your head all hot? Wait for you two to cool off."

"You don’t get it!"

"Ah, I get it. I get it so much that I’m gonna offer you the two things you need most right now: company and a few shots of tequila!"

"I don’t know, man..."

"Relax, dude, and follow me," Miguel said, grabbing Jeremy by the arms and leading him to a table at the bar.

…..

"I shouldn’t get in the middle of your relationship with your girlfriend. But I recently went through a messy divorce. And honestly, it took me a long time to realize I was in an abusive relationship," Miguel said to a downcast Jeremy.

"I’m not in a relationship like that; I love Laura," Jeremy replied, but with way less conviction than he wanted to show.

"And does she return that love? Does she love you the same way you love her?"

"Of course..."

"Really? Be honest with yourself if you don’t wanna be honest with someone you barely know."

"I want to believe that, but..."

"But you have doubts. Let me propose a game: I’m gonna ask you some questions about relationships, and for every positive answer from you and me, we’ll down a shot of tequila; I bet we’ll polish off a bottle in no time."

"First question: Have you ever felt like you were putting way more into this relationship than your partner?"

Both took a shot, and though neither noticed, Jeremy’s tan deepened, reaching a caramel shade very close to Miguel’s.

"Second question: Have you ever felt belittled by your partner?"

Another shot for both. And now Jeremy had shot up a few inches taller than Miguel.

"Third question: Have you ever felt like you’re nothing more than an accessory to your partner, that they don’t even see you as a person but as an object?"

Another shot. Another change. Jeremy’s muscles swelled, surpassing Miguel’s size and reaching the proportions of an amateur bodybuilder. The bottle was already half empty, but both men, who weren’t small, were already pretty tipsy, as that level of drinking wasn’t part of either of their habits.

"One more... one more..." a drunken Miguel said, looking extremely distorted in Jeremy’s vision. "Have you ever felt like you’re in this relationship out of fear... scared that you’re not good enough... that you can’t be loved by someone else... and that your partner takes advantage of that to keep you stuck with them?"

Another shot, and Jeremy’s already blurry vision began to swirl as a wave of anxiety took hold of him for finally admitting those truths, even while drunk. Miguel was spinning in front of him, and he felt an immense urge to get up and bolt, but when he did, he fell to the ground.

"Jeremy, Jeremy..." he heard the voice in the distance, that voice which stirred so many feelings within him. "Jeremy..." a voice that made him realize he could still desire and be desired... "Jer...." the voice that made him tingle just hearing it. "Jav..." the voice of the man he was in love with but couldn’t admit.

"Javier, get up; is everything cool?"

And Javier stood up amidst laughter.

"It’s all good, Miguel; it takes way more than a shot of tequila to take down a man my size," he replied with a grin, sitting back down at the table. At the same time, he ran his hands through his shiny black beard.

"Let me ask the question now," Javier said, beaming wider. "Do you think you’re ready to ditch this relationship and move on to better things?"

One more shot for both.

…..

Javier lay back on a couch of the exclusive rooftop bar Miguel that Miguel reserved just for the two of them, feeling his head spinning. While his roommate spent some not-so-productive time feeling the same way sitting on the toilet. As he tried hard not to toss his cookies, he felt his phone buzz. When he looked at the screen, he noticed there were tons of messages and calls from an unknown number. Choosing to deal with it when he was in better shape, he closed his eyes and thus didn’t see each of those messages and calls vanish from his records.

With his head still spinning, he slipped into a restless sleep filled with rapidly changing dreams, until again he dreamed of that slim, stunning blonde. In the dream, she lay down on him again and started kissing his naked body, but without provoking any reaction in him, nothing, no excitement, no pleasure, until once again the smooth woman’s skin gave way to the rough sensation of a beard brushing against his body, and it was Miguel who kissed him, reigniting the flame of desire within him. While he slept, he moaned with excitement, a powerful erection between his legs, until he finally woke up feeling Miguel’s real mouth wrapped around his swollen cock. Trapped in that feeling of pleasure, he pulled the other man closer to him, being overtaken by the now familiar sensation of raw desire.

After hours of wild sex, Javier sat on the edge of the couch. with the strange feeling that he had forgotten something, as usual when this happened he found himself mentally going over his posing routine for his next competition.

Every fiber of his body had been honed with the utmost dedication and commitment, and soon he would be on stage to put all that work to the test. He ran his hand through his raven hair and finished the motion with his soft trimmed beard. He knew he’d have to shave it before the performance, but he was reluctant because Miguel liked him that way. Speak of the devil, Miguel at that moment repositioned himself on the couch and smiled.

"A penny for your thoughts," said the smaller and younger man, but who had still earned the position of his coach and Javier’s heart.

"It’s no biggie, Mig; I was just checking myself out and thinking it’s a shame to shave; you like it so much..."

"Javi, I want you with or without a beard; I don’t care how you look; I care about being with you."

"So you mean if I were smaller and skinnier, you’d still be with me?"

"Maybe you wouldn’t have caught my eye right off the bat, but like I said, I care about the person you are; the man I fell for, and if he gains or loses weight, that’s not gonna change."

"Thanks, babe; that’s really nice to hear," Javier replied.

"You know what else is nice? Your posing routine, show it to me babe."

"You've seen it a hundred times, babe."

"What can I do if I can't get enough of watching my hot fiancé flex his muscles for me?" Miguel said with a mischievous smile, making a big smile spread across Javiers face, who even tried to pose seriously, crossing the covered area of the lounge towards the balcony, but failing miserably and loving every second of it as he heard the whistles and flirtations of the passionate man he had chosen to have by his side.

……

The afternoon sun shone brighter than ever, but even that didn’t seem to brighten a sunburned Laura’s mood as she gossiped with Kayla at the beach bar while they discreetly watched Miguel and Javier talking.

"Is this a good time? They seem to be having a spat," Kayla asked her friend.

"Just because they’re serious doesn’t mean they’re fighting. If we consider their social media, they’re living the dream," Laura replied.

"You know as well as I do how misleading social media can be."

"Still, this is our chance to collab with them; it’s not every day we get to work with two of the biggest fitness influencers in the game."

"Smile; they’re looking this way!" said Kayla, making both of them flash identical fake smiles, returned by a nod from the fitness couple of the year, who then got up and headed toward the beach.

"There goes our shot," Laura grumbled.

"Don’t sweat it, girl; people like you always get what’s coming to them," said a smiling Cintia, who was passing by before positioning herself at the bar counter and grinning.

A grin that widened when she saw Miguel and Javier together on the beach sharing a passionate kiss. If there was something she took pride in, it was a job well done, and at her inn, that meant way more than just a bed and breakfast.

#male tf #mental transformation #race change #reality change #straight to gay

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tkwrites · 4 months ago

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An Infinite Kind of Love - A 300 follower celebration fic - Matthew Tkachuk x ofc

Photo from Pinterest

Title: An Infinite Kind of Love

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Pre-established: Matthew Tkachuk x Sophie (ofc)

Warnings: Other than mentions of a not great biological father, it’s all fluff.

Summary: Matthew and Sophie get married!

Word count: 3,800

Comments: I hit 300 followers way back on July 12 and set up this poll to determine the fic I would write in celebration. We’d just passed the 4th of July, and I had a very specific idea for Matthew and Sophies wedding because of it.

This fic has actually been finished for about 3 weeks, but I was worried people would be upset if I posted it before the latest Quinn and Sarah Snapshot went up. So, here it is.

I hope you enjoy seeing Matthew and Sophie get married! If you did, please consider commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. I love hearing your thoughts about my writing!

Also we're just going to pretend the suit in this photo is navy because I couldn't find a photo of Matthew in a navy suit other than last years NHL Awards suit, which is not a suit for a wedding.

An Infinite Kind of Love

A Matthew and Sophie Fic

“Can someone get Matthew?” Sophie asked.

“Of course.” Taryn darted out to run across the courtyard.

When she got back to the suite, Matthew was running in after her.

Gwen was naked to the waist and yelped.

He slapped a hand over his eyes. “Sorry! Sorry! Soph?”

She rushed to him, pulling him out onto the balcony. “It's safe,” she said, nudging his hand down.

The late afternoon sun turned her into nothing more than a silhouette. He had to blink a few times before she came into focus. She'd changed from the short ivory colored dress she'd worn to brunch into a set of loose satin pajamas. Her hair was in rollers, and even with brows that looked too heavy without the rest of her makeup done, she still looked beautiful.

“What's wrong?” he asked, his hands automatically going to her arms, rubbing up and down. He didn't think it would actually happen, but thoughts of her calling off the wedding had still weaseled their way into the back of his mind when Taryn raced into the groom's room telling him Sophie wanted to see him.

“Nothings wrong,” she said, looking into his face. Despite only wearing a t-shirt and shorts, he looked fresh faced, and handsome. He and the boys had gone to the barber shop after brunch, and they'd done his hair so his curls were perfectly set and defined. It took all her willpower to not run her fingers through them. They’d also given him a straight edge shave, and she could tell how soft his cheeks would be without even touching them.

She preferred a bit of scruff on him, but he'd insisted he'd rather be clean shaven, saying he didn't want to look like a Muppet on their wedding day.

“Plus,” he'd said with a mischievous glint in his eye, “don't want to give you any beard burn,” before rubbing her cheek with his stubbled jaw.

She’d laughed and told him she didn’t mind.

“What's up?” he asked now, looking relieved.

“I just wanted to see you,” she said, stepping into him and wrapping her arms around his chest.

As his arms enclosed around her, she felt his chuckle at the same time she heard it.

“I missed you, too,” he said. With the rollers, he couldn’t tuck his face into her hair the way he liked to. He settled for resting his lips on her forehead.

“For being our wedding day, we don't see very much of each other,” she said.

While they’d had a brunch with many of their wedding guests before coming to the ceremony venue to get ready, they’d slept apart the night before and spent much of the morning away from each other. Then, they were supposed to be apart until the first look and the ceremony. It felt incongruous. This was a celebration of their union. Shouldn't they be together?

“I know. It's bullshit,” he whispered.

“What aftershave did they use?” she asked. He smelled fresh like cut grass and mountain air.

“I'm not sure. I picked it because I thought you'd like it.”

The simpleness of the act and of his thoughtfulness made her a little weak in the knees. “It smells really nice.”

Matthew closed his eyes, drinking in the feel of her body pressed to his, her breath on his neck and her nose in the soft spot under his jaw. Knowing that he'd picked right made pride swell in his chest.

“I'll ask them and get some,” he said.

Pulling back, she leaned up to kiss him.

It wasn't anything extravagant. It wasn't a kiss that made him break into a hot sweat or one that brought him to his knees. It was loving and soft. There was tongue, because with Sophie, there was always a little tongue.

They kissed a few more times before she pulled away to find a look of adoration on his handsome face as he smiled down at her.

Caught in the moment, they stayed that way for a few beats longer, just staring at each other until someone cleared their throat.

In the back of her mind, Sophie knew they were all in the room, but it was still a bit shocking when they looked over to find all her bridesmaids, both of their moms and the wedding photographer all gathered around the balcony door.

“You guys are so cute,” Gwen gushed.

There wasn't much about their wedding that was traditional. Instead of the usual noon, 2 or 5 o'clock ceremonies, their ceremony was set to begin at 8:30 so it would be dark enough by the time they kissed. They served a cocktail hour with food before the ceremony, at which the bridal party, minus the bride, mingled. After the vows, they were headed to a late-night reception with food trucks, cocktails, and partying.

With 20 minutes to go before the ceremony, they all snuck off to a more secluded part of the garden. The groomsmen insisted they wanted to do a first look with Sophie. It turned into a whole thing: groomsmen along with Keith and her stepdad Greg. Then Matthew would come in and join them to get his own first look.

Sophie was hidden behind a trellis in another part of the garden with both of their moms and her bridesmaids.

Her mom grabbed her hand to stop her from nervously pulling at her dress, and Sophie felt butterflies attack her stomach.

Before the bridesmaids went out to join the guys, Taryn wrapped her in a tight hug. When they parted, she held Sophie at arms length to look her over. “Matthew’s gonna shit himself,” she said, tone full of a kind of teasing approval Sophie never experienced until she’d met Matthew. Their family teased, but mostly, it was all in good fun. It was rarely the kind of needling teasing she got from her dad as a child.

Once she’d tried it on for the first time, Sophie couldn’t stop thinking about Matthew seeing her in this dress. She’d had it custom-made, pieces of a few dresses stolen and sewn together to make exactly what she’d wanted. The bodice had a plunging neckline that narrowed between her breasts, so it wasn’t all that scandalous and floral embroidery that cascaded down onto the A-line skirt. It was simple and understated, just left of center enough to make it unique and just off white enough to be flattering. If the color were a little darker, it might be called blush.

She knew Matthew would love it because she loved it. That was just the kind of guy he was. But Taryn’s reaction still made her insides fizz like champagne.

Upon a prompt from their wedding planner, Sophie walked out.

The groomsmen were lined up, facing away from her.

They turned around when the photographer, who was standing off to the side with full view of everyones reactions, gave the signal.

As Sophie watched, a broad grin spread over every face. Greg and Keith both started crying, which she hadn’t expected. Keith pulled his glasses off so he could wipe his eyes.

Greg rushed forward to gather her into a hug. His chest shook with sobs as he whispered, “thank you for letting me be here.”

“You’re the best dad, Greg. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Matthew’s one lucky son of a bitch,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

She hugged him again, squeezing extra tight.

Her brother followed. “You're so pretty, Soph,” he said.

“You look really handsome in your suit,” she said, wiping at her own tears that had finally spilled over.

He worked his thumbs under his suspenders and puffed out his chest.

Their laughter was loud and raucous as she struck a pose of her own.

When it was his turn, Keith gathered her into his barrel chest and lifted her off the ground in a bear hug.

She let out a surprised little squeak and giggled as her feet kicked out behind her.

“I don’t know —” Keith had to stop to wipe his eyes again after he set her back down, “I don’t know what Matthew did to get on your good side, but I’m sure glad he did.”

“You raised a good man,” she said, patting him on the chest as they parted, “that’s what he did.”

He gave her a watery smile and went back to Chantal and Taryn, slinging an arm around each of them.

“Matthew’s gonna lose his mind,” Sam whispered in her ear as they hugged.

She giggled, hoping he was right.

And finally (finally, finally!), Matthew was walking down the garden path next to Brady, looking as nervous and excited as she felt and so handsome in his navy blue suit. He had his Louis Vuitton belt on. Even though she thought it was a little distracting to wear to a wedding, he insisted it was his signature piece and couldn’t go without it. She found an indulgent smile on her face, glad he was wearing something he loved so much. At least she’d convinced him to wear real dress shoes and not those ridiculous mules he’d been sporting to the arena all season.

Sophie came into view, and all at once, Matthew felt tears sting his eyes. He’d known he would cry. He knew there was no hope of stopping it. He loved her so much, and this whole day had him all discombobulated. This wasn’t even the first time he’d cried, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.

After today, he would be her husband. Her husband. He would be her husband, and she would be his wife. And —

She was wearing the most beautiful dress he’d ever seen. Simple and elegant and completely Sophie. A strong pang of longing, love, and nostalgia pulled through him when he realized her lips were even painted the same pink they had been on their first date.

She was perfect.

“Oh my god,” he said, awestruck as they joined the group.

She knew he would probably do that no matter what she was wearing, but it still felt good.

Brady stepped forward and gathered her into a hug. “You look beautiful, Soph,” he said before going to stand with Emma, wiping a few tears from his eyes as he leaned down to whisper to her about how much this reminded him of their own wedding.

Finally standing in front of her, Matthew was at a loss for words. Eventually, he just said the thing that kept running through his mind. “Holy Shit.”

Everyone around them laughed.

Matthew continued to stare silently as everyone else headed back to start ushering the guests into the ceremony seats.

“I don’t…” he paused, trying to articulate the words. He wasn’t sure there were words for what he was feeling. “Fuck.”

She burst into laughter. “Is that good? Or bad?”

“Good,” he said, half of his mouth tipping up in a smile. “You’re –” he blinked a few times, “you’re so pretty, Sophie.”

Heat flushed into her cheeks. “Thank you. I think you look really handsome.”

“You don’t mind the belt?” he asked, tone and eyes teasing as he hooked his thumbs behind it.

“Nope,” she stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said into her hair, getting a mouth full of hairspray. He turned to lay his cheek against it instead.

“I can’t believe it’s finally here.”

“I know,” she whispered.

His phone buzzed in his pocket at the same time he saw her mom walking down the path that led from the ceremony.

“It’s time for me to go,” he whispered.

Tightening her arms around him, she resisted nuzzling into his shirt, knowing she’d get makeup all over the starched white material.

“I’ll see you in a minute,” she said, pulling back to look into his face.

He dipped down to drop a quick kiss to her lips. “See you in a minute, my betrothed.”

He’d started calling her that after some venue asked him if he and “his betrothed” would be attending a catering tasting together.

“Soon not to be,” she said with a wink.

He laughed, stole another quick kiss, and hugged her mom before jogging to meet Brady, who was waiting at the end of the path.

Sophie asked her mom to walk her down the aisle. She thought the idea of a man giving a woman away was archaic anyway, but especially after her dad left, she vowed never to have a man walk her down the aisle at her wedding.

So when the music started to play for their bridal party, an instrumental version of Here Comes the Sun — requested by Matthew because he called Sophie his ray of sunshine and they were heralding her entrance — she and her mom walked to the end of the pathway that was serving as their aisle.

Everything looked beautiful. Matthew was standing with their officiant — someone he grew up with who was now a pastor — under a large trellis, covered in a vine of blooming jasmine. The small white flowers (another reason her dress couldn’t be white) stood out against the mens dark suits and the lilac of the bridesmaids' dresses. Everything was bathed in the gentle golden glow of the candles, lanterns, and fairy lights strewn throughout the garden. It was like walking into a dream.

The song she would walk down the aisle to began, it’s jazzy, guitar playing softly from the speakers hidden around their guests.

The officiant instructed everyone to stand, and they did, turning to look at her, as she and her mom stopped at the end of the sidewalk.

While everyone looked at her, she looked at Matthew. Watching his smile and his breathless excitement as she made her way to him. He was even bouncing on the balls of his feet. Her own heart ticked in her ears, and she concentrated on the song lyrics in an effort to keep herself from running to him.

When we were strangers I watched you from afar When we were lovers I loved you with all my heart But now it's getting late And the moon is climbing high I wanna celebrate See it shining in your eyes Because I'm still in love with you I wanna see you dance again Because I'm still in love with you On this harvest moon

Watching Sophie walk down the aisle, her lips painted the same color pink they were on their first date, it felt a little like watching her walk through their history. He was outrageously glad to be on this side of it, having won her trust and love and finding himself in a situation where he had the chance to be with her forever.

Her mom hugged her and went to sit with Greg.

Sophie took the last three steps to stand in front of Matthew by herself. She was ready to take this last leap, eager to no longer do this life on her own.

The officiant invited everyone to sit and began talking about matrimony. She missed most of the speech, too busy thinking about the vows she’d written and watching Matthew. The navy suit made his eyes a deeper shade of blue than usual.

Finally, after what felt to Matthew like forty minutes, though it couldn’t have been more than five, they were invited to read the vows they’d written.

“When we agreed to write our own vows, I made Soph promise to let me go first so I didn’t have the pressure of trying to follow her.”

Sophie and the crowd laughed. Matthew noticed his mom wipe a tear from her cheek. His dad put an arm around her.

Taking in a deep breath, Matthew closed his eyes for a moment before looking back to the printed piece of paper Brady had handed him.

“Sophie,” he began. His voice wobbled a little. The way she was looking at him made him feel light-headed. The culmination of the day coming together and seeing her looking so beautiful in her dress was too much. Truth be told, he was a bit shocked he was even still standing.

She took his free hand, and the grounding in her touch centered his breathing.

He looked at her and began again.

“Sophie, if I tried to articulate all the ways I love you, I’m pretty sure we’d be here for several days because I don’t think I could ever find the right words.”

The audience awed.

“So instead of that, I wrote down some of the things I love about you, and what I’ll try to be for you, and you’ll just have to put up with the words I’ve got.”

She snorted, and he heard Brady laugh behind him.

“So here goes. I love that you make me quiet.”

Tears pressed behind her eyes. She hadn’t expected him to go for the jugular right off the bat.

“Most people know I have a pretty hard time shutting up,” he paused, listening to his dad laugh, “but you taught me the value in quiet moments, and I love that I fell in love with you in them. I love that I get a side of you no one else does, and I love that you trust me enough to show it to me.”

A few tears leaked out and slid down her cheeks. Gwen slipped a tissue into her hand, and Sophie smiled gratefully, pressing it to her lashes to stop her mascara from running.

“I love that you love my family and that I feel like I could be with you forever, and we would never get bored. I love that we’ve created our own little ecosystem and that it thrives because we’re both invested and working on it.”

His mom was crying into a handkerchief.

“I can’t promise that I’ll always be this good looking.”

The suddenness of the joke made Sophie bark out a sudden laugh, much too loud over the amplification system. Her hand slapped over her mouth to quiet the sound, and he laughed indulgently, as if that was the exact reaction he’d been going for.

“But what I can promise is this: that I’ll always try to protect you, except when it comes to spiders.” He paused for the laughter to die down, “That I’ll always do my best to be present when I’m home, and that I’ll always listen to and help you achieve your dreams. Most of all, I promise that I won’t ever stop trying to earn and deserve your trust and love.”

He folded the paper up. His mom was crying, as was Emma. He was pretty certain Taryn would be tearing up, too, but he couldn’t see her with the way the bridal party was standing. He wanted to end it in some fancy way like he knew she would, but he didn’t know how, other than to say, “I love you and I can’t wait to start this new chapter with you.”

Sophie wiped her nose and dabbed at the tears in her eyes. “I love you, too.”

She sniffed and swallowed, trying to get her bearings.

“Matthew always tries to tell me he isn’t good with words,” Sophie said, giving him a wry look as her fingers squeezed around his, “but I think you all can be the judge of that.”

He laughed.

She coughed gently to get some of the tears out of her voice. “When I started writing my vows, I couldn’t think of anything but love. I’ve been trying to understand it my whole life. When I was a kid, I thought I had to parcel out my love to make sure it didn’t run out, and other people had to do the same. Matthew, although you didn’t teach me that there’s an infinite amount of love in the world, you did prove that infinite love exists in a way I had never experienced before with a man.”

Now he was crying.

“I’ve always felt a little on my own,” she explained, “a little too quirky to be loved in that big infinite way.”

The audience was listening, wrapt. This was exactly why he didn’t want to go after her. Not only would he be a mess, there would be no way he could possibly follow her words.

“The last thing I expected in life was for this muscle-bound, curly-haired, rough and tumble hockey player to not only understand my quirks but to embrace and encourage them.” Her voice trembled. “I’m forever grateful I can take down my walls with you, Matthew.”

He took the tissue Brady handed him, unashamed, and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“And for your patience and consistency, even when I can be skittish and uptight.” She paused, listening to her half of the audience twitter.

“I promise I’ll kill the spiders,” she said, and he laughed along with the rest of their guests. “And I promise to never be unreasonably jealous of your job. But most of all, I promise to always be honest and to love you in the infinite way you showed me was possible.”

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to lean in and just lay one on her. Tradition be damned. He pressed his mouth to hers, mumbling how much he loved her against her lips. When he pulled back, her eyes told him how much she loved him in return.

The officiant led them through the traditional “til death do us part” stuff, and they exchanged rings. It was a strange thing to feel the weight of the band on his finger, but Matthew had never been so glad to have something tying him down. It felt like he might just float away without it.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant said with a wide smile.

Matthew’s hand slipped up to cradle her jaw, and he looked into her eyes as the fingers on her left hand tapped out five beats on the back of his arm.

And just like they rehearsed, just like they planned, just like Ryan said it would happen, the moment their lips touched, fireworks screeched to life behind them, screaming into the sky and exploding in a fan of sparks and color and sound.

It was perfect.

It was this video, first showing their faces as they looked adoringly at each other and then cutting back to catch the fireworks igniting the moment they kissed, that Matthew shared on his Instagram.

It’s been fireworks from the first kiss, and we’re still going strong.

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

#matthew & sophie #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #300 followers #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk one shot #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk #hockey fanfiction #hockey romance #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic

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cambion-companion · 1 year ago

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"Hold Monster"

Based on this amazing post and artwork. I couldn't help but write something for our beloved INT 8 Tav from 1st POV since that's what I feel most comfortable writing.

Raphael x reader!Tav | Tav thinks the hold monster spell works in a very different way

You certainly hadn't intended to trip and fall into the portal, landing face-first on the polished marble floor of Raphael's entryway.

Your presence had been noticed immediately by Raphael who, upon recognizing you, wore a rather aggrieved expression. He set down his quill carefully and rose to full towering height, a slight twist of bemusement curling his lips. "Here I assumed you could go an hour without indulging in foolishness." He strode toward you and gripped you by the scruff like a wayward kitten. "You just caused me to lose a bet with Korilla."

"I really don't know how this happened!" You protested against his grasp as he dragged you back towards the portal. "I would've knocked if you had a door!"

Raphael released you with a slight push, his wings flexing as he glowered down at you. "Innocent or not, a trespass will be received as such."

"Ah! Raphael, it was an accident!" You began to panic as his eyes glowed a bright gold and flames began to dance upon the tips of his fingers. "Oh, not again." You groaned, wracking your brains for something to counter his retribution."

You withdrew a small amount of silver from your pocket and shrieked. "I cast hold monster!!" Then charged at the cambion head-on.

So surprised was he by your yell and sudden movement, Raphael couldn't react in time before you leapt upon him. You wrapped your arms and legs around his torso and hips, clinging to him like a rabid spider monkey.

The force with which you jumped him caught both of you off guard and Raphael toppled to the floor, his wings failing to catch his weight in time. You felt his grip pierce your sides as he stared up at you in utter shock for a moment. The spell had worked, it seemed.

You panted. "I don't want my bottom singed again like last time. That wasn't very nice."

Raphael grimaced, his face sharpening again as his surprise subsided. Emotions warred across his features. "You are a most confounding creature. If I believed you at all capable of rational thought, you'd be a pile of ash this very moment. Now...get off."

"Sorry, I can't." You shook your head sorrowfully. "The spell lasts a minute."

Raphael growled low in his throat, his wings stretching as he slowly got to his feet. You still clung to him, holding him tightly as you could.

With great care and powerful restraint, Raphael removed you from his person limb by limb.

"Wow, you're strong." You said with awe, panting a little from the exertion. Seeing the look on his face you backed slowly towards the portal. "Okay, I can see you're busy. I'll be going now."

"I should think so." Sparks of hellfire danced between Raphael's fingertips as he looked at you, his expression much like one who is considering how best to skin a deer.

Once you'd disappeared back to the material plane, Raphael grunted and looked around his immaculate manor. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the infernal air. "For the crown."

#raphael bg3 #fic #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #raphael the cambion #raphael baldur's gate 3 #int 8 tav #drabble #raphael fanfic

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lmanburgseulogy · 7 months ago

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C!WILBUR INSANE POSTING. guess what. It’s actually about revival arc 😎 wahhoo

Sorry if it’s unorganized i’m too lazy to read it back 💯 plus probably none of you have the attention span to read this /j

LONG LONG POST UNDER CUT!

Brown mop of curls that are frizzy and uncared for, white streaks contrasting the rest. They stick out no matter how much he tries to hide them. When he gets so stressed he tugs at his hair, he notices that its gotten longer since when he actually tried to keep up with it. It wraps around the curves of his ears and turns upwards at the scruff of his neck.

There’s a deep wrinkle between his eyebrows, a reminding mark of a general with a heavy expression going into battle.

His eyes look unfocused over cracked glasses, it always seems like he’s not fully in the moment. Maybe he isn’t, not anymore. His gaze only settles on the ways everyone has changed, when he’s the same person who stood at that button. His absent stare contradicts the heavy smile lines gained years ago. He can’t remember the last time his smile reached that high. Feels awfully forced these days, even when he is happiest. He knows he doesn’t deserve it.

Wilbur struggles with bright lights after being in the dark so long in limbo. His head is always throbbing, and by noon it feels like a very tiny man is pushing his eyes right out from behind. Sometimes he gets too overstimulated and can’t think or stand straight. Tommy worried about him, but he can handle himself.

He has permanent eye bags from decades of sleepless nights. When he puts himself on the stage to be perceived by other’s judgmental stares he lathers thick foundation over the darkest parts. he knows they would notice if he covered all of it. They notice every little detail.

Wilbur’s nose is crooked and hooked at the end. A bump holds his glasses in place where freckles spot his skin. He loves the sunrise, he likes the marks it leaves for him. Maybe the light is finally reclaiming him.

His chin is covered in scratchy stubble. It’s thick and itchy, but his hands are to shaky to shave anymore. He learned that the hard way. He could get someone to do it for him, but who would? People always attack him in the small, minor inconveniences. They seem to hit wilbur harder than anyone else.

His Adam’s apple is very prominent. He gets it from his father.

Two white scars cross down his chest, making an “X.” They are surrounded by dark, unruly burns. When he gets the motivation to change his clothes, he thinks about a fallen country’s flag, which looks very similar to his own body. A part of him hates it, a part of him knows there was a time he would live the flag with pride. He almost hates that more. Sometimes he feels like all he is is the day he got those scars, since that’s all they see him for. He tries not to think about it. Never turns out well when he falls in the pit that is his mind.

*weight mentioned ahead, implied starving as a form of self harm

Wilbur often squishes the fat on his arms and stomach. He doesn’t remember a time where his belly or thighs were this soft, only his ribs casting jagged shadows down his front or his skin wrapped tightly over his bones. It didn’t take long for him to get tired of the potatoes in Pogtopia. Or, that’s what he told everyone when they gave him that look. Pity, he knew it to be. He didn’t need to be pitied, not when this is what they want him to be. A man falling apart, another dog in the ring.

Wilbur thought it was odd, his new shape and stretch marks. He didn’t really hate it though. He is almost comfortable in himself, even when most of his meals were barely choked down. Phil likes to reassure him the healing continues, and he knows his dad isn’t a liar of course, but Wilbur tends to spill his uncontrollable emotion into every good thing. It’s whatever.

Wilbur has lumbar scoliosis, so right before his hips his spine curves into a “C.”

He remembers his mother talking to Phil after his exam for it. Her voice was wound up tight, ranting to phil about how he might be paralyzed when he got older. He can’t remember his mother much, yet that memory is clear as day. He would love to tell her he’s moving about just fine, except for the constant pain. Tommy says it’s normal though. (yes lets ask tommy for medical advice. sure king)

Scars litter his body, all around. Some big, some small. Some major injuries like The Final Control Room, and some are minor losses not even worth noticing during battle. A lot he doesn’t remember. Which might be for the better.

His fingernails are short and chipped. He expects it to be from clawing at the walls in limbo, the scraping sound makes him shiver to think of.

When Wilbur hits his head on doorframes he remembers family photos of him sticking out like a sore thumb in the line. He had his growth spurt early, and got a little too tall for his liking. Techno joked he was 1/4 torso 3/4 leg. Easy to intimidate people though!

Wilbur’s bones ache a lot. They’re old things, he thinks when he hears the pop of his knees. Sometimes the aching gets so bad he can only sit, which is embarrasing when he has to plop down on the prime path while Tommy gives him the worry look again. One time Eret found him catching his breath by the museum, boy he hated that. He remembered the last time they saw each other, when he apologized. Kind of awkward. He wished he could run away, like during L’manburg. A slight smile on his face when the breeze swept his hair back, legs moving in rhythm against the ground. He’s pathetic now, not even able to walk away if he tried. Potions never numb it as much as he hopes.

#c!wilbur #brynn posts #brynn rambles #dsmp #revivebur #wahhoo

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mirrorball-leclerc · 1 year ago

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track 002. la del insta

─── ❝ todo comienza y se termina ❞ ───

masterlist // previous // next

NOVEMBER 2022

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, isabellaperez and others

redbullracing i have been told that my previous caption was not appropriate, so here's a boring pr one scripted by salty spice himself, daniel ricciardo returns to red bull as our reserve driver. it's wonderful to have you back daniel.

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📍isabellaperez alternate caption was the honey badger is back mother fuckers!! read it and weep!!

user43 i love red bull's admin and their chaos. wonder where christian horner found them.

↳ redbullracing he found me on the streets of monaco and picked me up by the scruff of my neck and told me he had a job for me. who was i to deny salty spice?

↳ danielricciardo you would love her less if you had to see her everday.

↳ maxverstappen1 at least you got a break for a while, i've been suffering for four years

↳ estebanocon you two have it easy, i've been suffering since 2016.

↳ schecoperez i've been told to say that i've been suffering for 19 years.

↳ isabellaperez fuck you guys (except tio checo. i love you)

↳ alexalbon don't worry isa, you're my favorite red bull admin

↳ isabellaperez thank you lily's boyfriend! you're my favorite williams driver!

user07 red bull admin is checo's niece?? plot twist. honestly though, i love her.

christianhorner this is not the caption we talked about isabella.

↳ redbullracing i would say sorry but we both know it's going to happen again. it's been happening for over 4 years.

user92 she's been apart of the team longer than checo? it's kind of iconic. but why red bull and not aston martin when checo was racing with them at the time?

↳ isabellaperez aston martin didn't have a position open and red bull did. it also allowed me to travel with my uncle which i've been doing since 2011, i was only going to stop because the fia demanded it due to covid.

user59 so do you live in monaco or mexico with checo?

↳ isabellaperez used to live in LA but the influencer life was not for me (check out my youtube channel) then i was convinced by my sister and arthur to move to monaco. i travel to mexico all the time, i have to see my mami of course!

BAHRAIN 2023

the youngest mclaren driver stood off to the side, nervous for his first ever formula one grand prix. his teammate seemed less nervous, but still nervous to a certain degree. oscar truly didn't want to fuck this up, not after everything that happened in the last 6 months for him. he noticed a brunette girl staring at him from across the pitlane, she gave him a small wave before turning to go back inside the redbull garage.

the younger brunette turned to look at the slightly older one, "who was that?"

the older one turned to look at him, “you don’t stand a chance. she's checo's niece, very overprotective that man is. not excluding you know, max and daniel. take it from me, i've tried.”

“i asked who she was not if you tried to get her number.”

“oh, i have her number, but i have a girlfriend, you pastry. matter of fact," lando said, "you have her number too."

“it’s piastri! you know this!” oscar shouted as lando skipped, literally skipped, away from him. oscar rolled his eyes at the older drivers actions before turning to go back inside the mclaren garage.

the brunette girl stood outside the redbull garage again, with daniel ricciardo at her side. she turned to look at the empty spot oscar had once been in, then back at daniel, “can't believe i still think he's cute. he's the enemy.”

daniel laughed, "he's not the enemy isa. you're allowed to have a crush on someone."

isabella rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair, “i hope him the best at shit-claren.”

“isa!”

the girl laughed, “it’s true!”

redbullracing posted a new story

alexa, play the boys are back from hsm2!!! welcome home honey badger!! we've missed you!! (salty spice told me no more cursing on official red bull posts)

liked by austinriley, maejones, redbullracing and others

isabellaperez we're back people!! bahrain 2023, praying for a better result than last year. please f1 gods, don’t give us a double dnf. (but at least ferrari had a 1-2!)

tagged: redbullracing

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danieljricciardo i know you aren’t liking your posts from the official redbull racing account

↳ isabellaperez what good is it running the red bull account if i can’t like my own posts?

user82 paddock princess is back people!!

↳ isabellaperez am i royalty like charles? people’s prince and poddack princess?

↳ charles_leclerc you wish you were as cool as me

↳ isabellaperez at least i don’t wear questionable pants.

↳ georgerussell63 she got you there buddy

user75 isabella running the red bull racing account but still being a tifosi will always be hilarious to me

↳ isabellaperez corporate espionage at it's finest (i'm kidding christian, please don't fire me)

logansargeant is it considered treason if i follow you?

↳ isabellaperez idk let’s ask alex_albon, is it treason?

↳ alex_albon he’s in the groupchat? how is this treason?

↳ logansargeant good to know

logansargeant and oscarpiastri started following you

redbullracing posted a new story!

1-2 in bahrain! what a way to begin the season! congrats maxverstappen1 and schecoperez (i’ve been told by helmut that i need to be more ‘professional’ whatever that means)

duckling to get over my crush on oscar i’ve decided to ask arthur for ollie’s number.

super max oh for fucks sake, don’t do that

duckling maybe i should text austin then.

honey badger DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!

honey badger i will fucking confiscate your phone isabella estrella perez

duckling i don’t have a middle name. my sister does, it’s maria. honey badger i could not give less of a fuck. don’t you dare do such a thing.

super max I WILL CALL SEBASTIAN ISABELLA PEREZ!!

duckling don't threaten me with sebastian, max! that will do nothing!

super max added one person

honey badger had changed the group name to 'redbull's four musketeers'

paddock dad do i want to know?

super max ISABELLA WANTS TO TALK TO AUSTIN! TELL HER IT'S A BAD IDEA! duckling fuck you, you stupid maxi-pad

paddock dad isa, why would you do that?

honey badger SHE HAS A CRUSH ON OSCAR AND IS AFRAID OF LOVE! duckling i am not afraid of love. i’m afraid of falling in love, two very different things daniel super max yet another thing austin ruined for you. love along with getting a pet. paddock dad how the hell did he ruin getting a pet for her? honey badger honestly don’t remember but i think it was something along the lines of how his cousin had one and it got killed by a car. duckling i still want a dog he didn’t completely ruin that. paddock dad never let a man ruin anything for you or so my wife says

super max you might want to mute this chat seb, it was created to help isabella over any and all problems, small or big.

duckling okay fuck you verstappen

super max no thanks. i have a girlfriend. honey badger we're aware. we've heard nonsense super max do you really want to go there ricciardo? your wife wrote a song about only buying a dress so you could take it off honey badger DO YOU LIKE MAKING HER EYES ROLL VERSTAPPEN? DO YOU?

isabella had been so focused on her phone and texting back the others that she didn’t notice the person coming at her. she crashed into the person and her phone fell to the floor, landing with a loud crack. at least the crack sounded loud to her, but not louder than the ‘mierda’ she let out. she bent down to pick up her phone and so did the person she had bumped into, both reached for her phone, bumping heads.

“fuck,” isabella softly whispered, “you have a hard head,” she told the other person as she rubbed her head.

the person laughed, “guess that’s a good thing for an f1 driver.”

isabella’s eyes slightly widened when she realized who she had bumped into. she would recognize an australian accent anywhere, she had grown up near daniel ricciardo. oscar piastri was too busy inspecting her phone for any cracks to notice the expression she had made. he handed her the phone as both stood to their full heights, he was noticeably taller than her.

"no cracks," oscar told her as he handed back her phone. she smiled politely at him, "thanks."

"and your friends are blowing up your phone. i think you had like 10 messages come in while i was checking to see if it had any cracks. not that i read them-"

isabella waved him off, "it's just max and danny, they were arguing about who had the horniest songs written about them."

oscar laughed, "i'm oscar piastri."

"i know, i'm isabella perez" she replied, "i saw your alpine tweet, plus arthur talks about you a lot."

"i know," oscar replied, "arthur leclerc? you two know each other?" he questioned as they began walking together. isabella didn't know where he had originally been heading but now the two were walking back to their hotels.

"he's dating my sister, dulce? you might know her."

"oh, you're isa. i always wondered why they called you isa and not bella."

"because i will stab anyone who calls me bella," isabella emptily threatened. too enthralled on her phone she failed to notice the small smile on oscar's face.

"okay, bella."

isabella quickly looked up, glaring at him, "i'm glad you dnf'd."

"ouch," oscar dramatically muttered, "you wound me bella."

the two were interrupted by a voice shouting for oscar. they turned around and were met with the sight of alex albon and logan sargeant, both williams drivers also walking back to their hotel.

"alabono!" isabella shouted, rushing to hug the bleached-blonde. the taller driver opened his arms and accepted the hug, "hi, isa. did you have a good day?"

"no, charles dnf'd, so the ferrari in me is crying. however, the redbull in me is screaming for joy."

before alex could reply a ding interrupted him and caused isabella to look down at her phone. her eyes widened, and she handed her phone over to alex, "can you give this to max or danny later? i'm catching a flight on air-max later tomorrow."

alex nodded, "see you in glendale. or sooner."

"bye alex, bye logan, bye piastri!" isabella shouted as she ran off. logan looked confused between isabella's phone and alex, "why'd she give you her phone?"

the phone dinged again and alex sighed as he switched the phone to silent, "it's quite the story, one that either isa or dulce should tell you, not me."

"okay," logan said, he turned to oscar, "why'd she call you piastri?"

"oh, i called her bella," oscar replied, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. alex's eyes widned and logan knew their was a story there but he didn't pry. he wasn't close to any of the other drivers besides oscar, so he wasn't going to ask. he could be nosy sometimes but even he knew his limits. alex didn't want to talk about isabella's phone so maybe the phone had something to do with calling her bella.

"surprised you're still standing," alex said, "last time someone called her bella she kicked him in the nuts, and they had just met. he stopped calling her bella after that."

the two rookies exchanged looks as alex pocketed isabella's phone and pulled out his own phone and began to type furiously on it. logan's phone dinged moment's later but he ignored it, not wanting to make oscar suspicious. however, when his phone kept dinging oscar turned to him curiously and logan waved him off, silencing his phone.

"just friends from home, they were planing a party," logan quickly lied. oscar shrugged him off and logan was quick to divert the conversation to a random topic.

alex albon OSCAR CALLED HER BELLA AND HE'S STILL STANDING. NO BALLS WERE KICKED!!!!

dulce perez HE WHAT? BUT SHE HASN'T LET ANYONE CALL HER THAT FOR YEARS! EVEN AUSTIN WASN'T ALLOWED TO CALL HER BELLA

daniel riccardo THIS IS BIG NEWS PEOPLE!

lewis hamilton will you people shut up? some of us have an early flight to catch tomorrow.

fernando alonso mute them, i usually do that until the next morning. lewis hamilton i should start doing that

daniel ricciardo CARLOS DROP EVERYTHING NOW!!!

bailey winters MEET ME IN THE POURING RAIN! daniel ricciardo NOT THE TIME BAILEY! bailey winters IT IS ALWAYS THE TIME FOR DAPHNE JONES SONGS!

carlos sainz what happened? what did i miss?

arthur leclerc that's not fair, i've known her for years and i still get punched on the arm when i call her bella

dulce perez that’s because it’s usually “this is the skin of a killer bella” lando norris to be fair it’s a great line, and robert pattinson is great. team edward all the way daphne jones for legal reasons, team jacob natalia ruiz shall i tell suki lando’s in love with her boyfriend? lando norris CAN I MEET HIM? TELL ME I CAN!!

carlos sainz QUE ESTÁ PASANDO?! SOMEONE EXPLAIN!!

logan sargeant what’s the big deal with him calling her bella? it’s her name, no?

carlos sainz QUE? HE CALLED HER WHAT? dulce perez the only people allowed to call her bella was our dad, tio checo too, but ever since dad passed she hasn’t let anyone call her that. she says it was his name and only his. arthur leclerc her ex tried calling her bella and she kicked him in the nuts when they first met. he still did it every time he was angry at her. charles leclerc which was everyday and she always cried because only her dad was allowed to call her that. logan sargeant so the ex was an asshole? max verstappen biggest understatement of the year.

logan sargeant and that’s why she gave her phone to alex earlier.

mick schumacher HE TEXTED? AGAIN? I WOULD STRANGLE HIM IF I WOULDN'T LAND IN JAIL

daniel ricciardo i’m going to punch that guy. take a hint dude.

logan sargeant why don’t you guys just block him?

dulce perez oh why didn’t we try that? WE DID THAT YOU AMERICAN!

natalia ruiz seb said we needed to teach her to not reach out to him on her own. we're starting with confiscating her phone anytime he texts her and we give it to her the next day. it was hard to get where we are now, trust me. she used to fight us on it but now she just hands her phone over.

mae jones we're not quite sure what the next step is but we're making progress. maybe we can get her to block him on her own.

george russell so what exactly is the next step in operation osbella? obella? iscar? what's the official name?

fernando alonso how about 'all of you need to stop being invested in isabella's love life and go the hell to sleep?"

lando norris yes papa nando. fernando alonso that's going to stick isn't it? max verstappen absolutely lando norris 100 percent daniel ricciardo already making t-shirts lance stroll papa nando, papa seb, and uncle lewis mae jones good luck explaining that one to isa and oscar in the other groupchat.

¡leclerc-s speaks! it's austin gp weekend! (i live in california) anyways hope you enjoyed this one before quali today or after. expect more posts this weeked, maybe? i'm not sure yet.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the honest series #oscar piastri #formula 1 #oscar piastri x female oc #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

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x-press-it · 22 days ago

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Devilish Desires - 7/8

Dangerous Temptations, Irresistible Touch 🎞️❤️‍🔥🌹⚔️🖤💻🖱️

Sub!Logan Howlett x Dom!OC (They/Them)

Summary: Logan, typically guarded and dominant, finds himself captivated by E, a mysterious being with a devilish allure and ancient presence that challenges his control.

Context: This story unfolds 'within' the "Days of Future Past" new timeline, during Logan's early years as a history teacher at Xavier’s School. It’s set well before his consciousness from the original timeline reconnects with him in 2023, as seen at the film’s end.

Content Warnings (for the whole story): Smut 18+ (Dry humping, Edging, Unprotected p in v.) - Dom!Logan into Sub!Logan - Pet Names (Good boy, pretty boy, pet, pup, amongst others...) reversed age gap (Logan is younger) - OC Notes: Established name, backstory, powers, fighting style, female body but gender fluid character (Logan misgender them at first because he doesn't know, even in the descriptions) - Mention of other character from the MCU and subtle references to the comics for flavor (not mandatory to understand what is happening) - Flash back and mention of past trauma - Very quick mentions of drugs - Fluff with Dark Undertones: Emotional tension and possessive affection - Worship Themes: Religious imagery, reverent language and awe - Ancient Mysticism: References to otherworldly or demonic presence - Mental Health: Power dynamics, personal vulnerabilities - Trope: Rivals to lovers.

I'm back after 10 years of iatus and fairly new to how things are done on tumblr now, so sorry if I missed any warnings. Also english isn't my first language so there might be typos/weird sentences...

Notes: Got very inspired by sub!Logan and repeated listening of "Between wind and water" by Hael. Cover made with canva from an idea I got from this post. If you know who made the picture, tell me so I can credit them - Click on the divider to find the creator. Also this was meant to be an imagine turned into a full story. Just so you know, some chapters are very short, other are long. I'm in the process of editing/writing/rewriting parts so I'll post a chapter everytime I have one fully edited.

I kept getting derailled by stuff but El Famoso Chapter 7 (as my hubby has been calling it those last weeks) is finally done T^T I think my ADHD brain doesn't want me to finish this story because once it's done, it's done and I'll have to say goodbye to Ezekiel and this Logan. Regarding the poll I made about male x male smut, as the results were mixed, if I write anything between Logan and Zeek, I'll make this a bonus scene. Okay, people, it's time to feed the hunger again :)

Need some music? I've got you

Previously: in Devilish Desires

Chapters: 7/8

Word Count: 12.4K / 60K+ for now

E opened their eyes as the ray of the sun stroked their skin. The golden light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Next to them, Logan was still sleeping, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, his expression peaceful—more so than E had ever seen since their first encounter in that tense hallway weeks ago.

They let their gaze roam over the lines of his face, memorizing every detail: the scruff along his jaw, the way his lashes rested against his cheek, and how his tousled hair fell messily across his brow, lending him an almost boyish look. The sight stirred a rare, warm smile from E, a glimmer of something fragile and cherished flickering within them.

Despite the contentment that coursed through their veins, a seed of resolve pressed at the back of their mind, they didn’t want to disturb him, nor did they want him to wake up alone, with only the ghost of their presence left in the warmth of the sheets. But time wasn’t on their side, as the rest of the mansion was about to awaken.

E brushed their fingers lightly along Logan’s arm, feeling the solid muscle shift beneath their touch even as he slept, the faint brush of their fingers drawing a soft, instinctive hum from him. Slowly, his eyes cracked open, still heavy with the haze of sleep.

The sharp alertness that often defined him flickered briefly before his gaze landed on them. Almost immediately, his features softened, the edge of wariness melting into something softer.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice rough and hoarse, but so low it felt like a quiet confession.

E’s lips curved in a small, tender smile. Something in his tone, softer than anything they’d ever expected from him, made their old, dusty heart stutter in their chest. For all the years they’d walked the earth, never had they been spoken to in such a way.

“Hey,” they responded in kind, voice almost shy as their eyes traced his features—the rugged lines of his face, the way his hair stuck up slightly, the barest hint of something unguarded in his expression.

Logan shifted slightly, his arm flexing beneath their touch, though he made no move to pull away. “Leavin’ already?” he asked, the whisper still rough but edged with something else—an unspoken reluctance, maybe, or the wish to hold onto this fleeting moment a little longer.

E leaned in, their lips brushing against his temple. “Wouldn’t want people to find out they’re right about us, would we?” Their voice was tinged with light humor, but the reference to Scott’s pointed remarks during the trial still lingered between them. The subtle accusation—that it was easy for lovers to fight in sync—now felt like he had seen right through them, and they both didn’t like that.

Logan’s face turned thoughtful, a shadow of concern settling over his features. “Is there anything we can do about it?” he asked, the question heavy with the understanding that staying under the radar was going to become increasingly difficult in the days yet to come. “Turn their feelings around, maybe?”

“There might be a solution,” E said, their tone serious. “But you’re not going to like it.”

He frowned, curiosity mingled with caution. “Go on, lay it out.”

“We act like something happened between us,” they explained, eyes flickering with a hint of reluctance. “Something bad. We make them believe we can’t stand each other anymore.” They paused, studying Logan’s reaction. “It has to be convincing, Logan. Real mean. We’ll need to sell it, even if it means hurting each other in the process.”

Logan exhaled slowly, the tension in his jaw tightening as the weight of the plan settled on him. “You’re right—I don’t like it. But I see how it could work.” His eyes met theirs, resigned but resolute. “If you’re game, I’m in.”

A small smile, bittersweet and fleeting, crossed E’s lips as they leaned in and kissed his cheek. “We may have to do it more than once.”

“Yeah,” Logan said with a heavy nod. “The more we do it, the more convincing it’ll look.”

They sat in the stillness that followed, letting the warmth between them linger just a moment longer before the masks would have to come on and the distance between them would become painfully real.

The silence in the room grew heavier, the weight of what they were about to do settling over them. In a rare moment of connexion, E reached for Logan’s fingers, the tips of their own brushing against his in a soft, tentative dance. Logan’s response was immediate; he closed his hand around theirs, the warmth a brief comfort against the cold edge of reality.

“It’s a difficult time to go through,” they murmured. Their voice, barely above a whisper, carried the tremor of uncertainty. They tried to sound reassuring, though the words were as much for themselves as for him. “We need to focus on the moments we’ll be alone. Let’s not let ourselves get lost in our own lies.”

Logan nodded, his thumb moving in slow circles, brushing gently over the back of their hand. His expression was raw, the look on his face saying everything words couldn’t—the pain of what lay ahead, the quiet acceptance of it, and the unyielding resolve to shield them, even if it meant taking the fall himself.

The hurt, etched into the hard lines of his face, was a reflection of everything E felt. They both knew this was the quickest way to shift the tide, to keep E safe from the suspicion tightening around them like a noose. And if it meant bearing the brunt of it, he would—because of the fierce, protective feeling blazing in his chest, but also because he trusted them.

E let out a heavy sigh, their lips pressing into a thin line before they smoothed back the strands of his hair with their free hand, fingers brushing through the dark mess. They were about to speak when Logan’s head turned slightly, his ears twitching as he picked up the faint sound of running water. It came from the direction of Kurt’s room, judging by the echo through the walls.

Logan’s gaze shifted back to them, softer now but edged with urgency. He brought their hand to his lips, pressing a gentle, lingering, kiss to their knuckles. “You have to go,” he said, voice low and reluctant. “People are starting to wake up.”

E exhaled deeply again, the air leaving their mouth almost trembling, but they nodded. They leaned forward, pressing their forehead against his in a quiet, intimate gesture that said everything they couldn’t put into words.

“See you around, pretty boy,” they whispered, the familiar teasing lilt in their voice dulled by the reality of what was to come.

Logan gave a small nod in return, the reluctance in his eyes mirrored by the heaviness in his chest. The thought of what they were about to do—the lies they’d weave to protect their arrangement—made the air between them feel sharper, more fragile.

He watched as they slipped out of the room, the emptiness they left in their wake pressing down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake. It was a stinging sense of loss, one he knew would linger long after the door closed behind them.

Once he found himself alone, he rose from the bed, the space around him cool and empty in the absence of E. Their scent lingered faintly in the room, and his heart ached with want—no, the need—to see them, to have them against him, to touch them.

What was happening to him? Was he that far gone already? Wrapped around their little finger? His head felt foggy, exhaustion creeping in at the edges of his awareness, adding to the strange weight pressing against his chest. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear his thoughts, willing the heaviness away before heading to the bathroom.

The steady patter of water as he showered grounded him, but it did little to clear the memories that crowded his mind. E’s teasing smile, their eyes dancing with mischief; the way they’d pushed and pulled at him the night before, challenging him yet surrendering with a trust so deep it shook him to his core.

The thought of it sent warmth coursing through him, a pulse that beat in time with the thrum of the water. They had told him they were a giver—always putting others first. For so long, they hadn’t allowed themselves to be selfish, maybe not ever. Only once in their long, lonely existence.

But with him, they had.

That truth sank into him, mingling with a sense of awe that twisted into longing. He knew a thing or two about keeping things—instincts, urges, emotions—in check for years, decades, centuries even. The weight of being chosen by someone who, like him, had kept their guard so high for so long was something he felt with every fiber of his soul, making him shiver with pride.

He’d known satisfaction before, shared heated moments with countless partners over the span of nearly two centuries—men and women, different faces and places—but this… this had struck deeper than he thought possible.

Rinsing the shampoo from his hair, Logan let out a breath that fogged the glass wall of his shower. His mind replayed the previous night, as if on loop: the way E had looked at him, unguarded and raw; how their movements had mirrored a kind of surrender that words couldn’t touch.

That feeling of being seen and wanted—not just as a weapon, not just as a mutant or a means to an end, but as himself. Whole. Flawed. It was dangerous, intoxicating. A craving took root in his chest, a quiet yet insistent need for more of that feeling, more of them.

Stepping out of the shower, he dried himself off, wrapping a towel around his waist before brushing his teeth. The routine motions were automatic, but his mind spun with those vivid images, heat already pooling low in his belly.

He styled his hair, the habitual tug of the comb pulling him back to the present, but not completely. Not when his senses were still keenly aware of their scent lingering on his skin despite the shower, faint but unmistakable, as if they had marked him as theirs.

One night. That’s all it had taken for them to make him theirs. He got dressed before making his bed with the practiced precision of someone who’d been a soldier for a long time, the last trace of E smoothed out beneath the taut sheets. Moving on, his hand reached for the small, worn notebook on the nightstand—a habit, a piece of routine that kept him anchored. But today, even that felt different. His eyes flicked over the scribbled notes—reminders and plans for his lectures—but they barely registered. His mind was still caught in the gravity of E’s laughter, the way it had curled around him, warm and dangerous.

Logan made his way to his desk and sat down, the notepad now forgotten in his grip. No matter how many mornings he’d seen after tangled nights, none of them carried this. None of them ever left him feeling whole the way E had, even if just for a fleeting moment—before the hollowness crept in as soon as they were gone.

His reflection caught his eye in the mirror: rougher around the edges than usual, but still carrying that stubborn resilience he never seemed to lose. Tugging at his shirt collar, he adjusted the fit of his flannel, then ran a hand through his hair to push it back into place. A breath shuddered out of him as he wrestled the knot in his chest, forcing himself to focus.

With one final glance, he made sure everything was in order—boots laced tight, notepad folded neatly on the desk’s edge, though the ghost of last night still clung to the room. He inhaled deeply, the faint scent of E lingering in the air, uninvited in the way it stirred memories too raw, too exposing.

The space felt emptier than it should, as though a piece of it—and him—had left with them. Closing his eyes briefly, he centered himself, then rose and made his way down the hallway to the mansion’s first floor.

The hum of early morning voices grew louder as he neared the kitchen. He could already pick out Jean’s quiet laughter and Scott’s steady, self-assured tone. The familiar sounds grounded him, even as a faint tug of anticipation simmered at the edges of his thoughts.

When he entered, the conversation quieted momentarily as their eyes turned toward him. Jean and Scott shared a glance, surprised to see him this late; Logan was usually here long before either of them. He nodded their way—silent, but not unfriendly—before crossing to the counter. Grabbing the coffee pot, he filled his mug and brought it close, the steam curling in the air.

He was still lost in thought when E entered, their stride confident, eyes sharp with mischief. The air shifted the moment they stepped in, crackling like an unspoken challenge. Their smile was subtle, but unmistakably smug, as if they owned the space.

“Morning, everyone,” they greeted, their voice silk, effortless. Two of the three people they addressed didn’t seem entirely comfortable, their wariness obvious, but E wore their nonchalance like armor, as though they couldn’t care less. They moved through the room with practiced ease, every motion so deliberate, so fluid, that it made Logan’s pulse quicken in a way that used to irritate him—but now, it simply thrilled him.

They made this masquerade look effortless.

Their eyes met his, a flicker of shared understanding passing between them before they glanced away, the moment hidden beneath a mask of casual indifference.

They reached for the coffee pot, their fingers brushing Logan’s where his hand rested casually on the counter. The touch was fleeting, something no one else in the room would notice, but it left a warmth that lingered between them. The slight squeeze they gave him was enough to send a silent message: brace yourself. His jaw tensed, but he masked it with a sip, his gaze hardening as he prepared for whatever came next.

“Black coffee again, Logan?” E’s voice broke the silence, playful and biting. “You ever consider trying something with flavor?” They poured themselves a cup, their smirk deepening as they glanced over their shoulder at him.

Logan’s response was automatic, rough, as he played along, letting them lead the dance of their back and forth. “Coffee’s coffee. Doesn’t need all that extra crap.”

E’s eyebrows arched, their grin widening as if they’d caught him off-guard with a well-placed jab. “Ah, a man of simple tastes. Should’ve figured.”

He met their eyes, a silent challenge sparking between them. “What’s that supposed to mean?” The words came out with an edge, but there was a tension in his chest that had nothing to do with annoyance.

“Oh, nothing.” E shrugged, taking a sip of their coffee, their eyes dancing with amusement. “Just that I thought someone with your experience might be a bit more adventurous.”

Logan felt the tension coil tight in his chest, the line between reality and performance starting to blur. He forced his expression into one of irritation, letting a spark of anger flicker in his eyes. Leaning into the feeling to give the act weight, he set his mug down with a deliberate thud.

“Careful there, sweetheart. Last time someone thought they had me figured out, it didn’t end too pretty,” he said, letting the hint of a growl seep into his voice. Jean and Scott exchanged glances, brows raising as they picked up on the shift in atmosphere.

E’s smirk grew sharper, almost daring. “Wouldn’t dream of it, old man,” they retorted, a flick of mock respect in their tone that had the others in the room shifting uncomfortably. Jean's eyes darted between them, curiosity turning into concern as the tension thickened.

Logan clenched his jaw, leaning forward just enough to invade E’s space, his face a mask of barely-contained fury. “Old man? You better watch your mouth or I’ll remind you why you don’t cross me, kid.”

Scott’s gaze snapped to them, mouth opening to intervene, but E beat him to it. They laughed, a sharp, biting sound that bounced off the walls and made Logan’s skin prickle. “Oh, I’m terrified,” they said, their words dripping with sarcasm. “Please, Logan, save the dramatics. You’re not as intimidating as you think, kitty cat.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, and Logan felt his pulse thunder in his ears. He reminded himself that this was part of the plan, that E’s sharp jabs were calculated. But damn if it didn’t cut deeper than he’d expected. He caught the brief flicker of apology in their eyes, barely noticeable to anyone but him.

Jean’s voice cut through the standoff, soft but steady. “Is everything okay here?” she asked, trying to smooth the tension with a touch of authority.

Logan didn’t break eye contact with E as he replied, “Peachy, Jeannie. Just a friendly morning chat.”

“Yeah, friendly,” E added, their tone so falsely sweet it made Jean’s frown deepen.

Scott’s eyes narrowed, suspicion clear as day. “Well, if you two are done, maybe we can all get on with our morning without the theatrics.”

Logan bit back a retort, taking a step back and grabbing his coffee cup. The room was stifling now, and he could feel the way E’s presence tugged at him even as they stood apart. “Yeah. We’re done,” he muttered before turning his back and leaving, letting the act settle like a stone in his gut.

Behind him, he heard E’s soft chuckle, a practiced sound meant to sting, and it did. But they’d both agreed—this was the way it had to be. And so, the distance began.

Logan spent the hours following the kitchen fight lost in his thoughts, the conversation replaying in his mind like a broken record. He knew it wasn’t real—that much was clear—but E’s words had hit harder than he’d anticipated. Not because there was any truth to them, but because they came from them. A part of him hated how it lingered, stirring something raw inside. He wasn’t the type to let something like this gnaw at him. He was the Wolverine, damn it. But it still dug under his skin.

He tried to shake it off, but the feeling wouldn’t fade. He needed to see them. To remind himself it was all just an act.

By the time he reached the library, the weight in his chest had grown unbearable. E was hunched over a stack of papers at one of the long oak tables, their focus intent on something that looked law-related. Figures. Logan leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching them. He was always amazed by how easily they could shut everything else out. He let the silence hang for a beat before pushing himself off the door and making his way inside.

E glanced up when he approached, the brief flicker of relief in their eyes catching him off guard. “Logan,” they said softly, setting the pen down. The words were warm, but there was something unreadable beneath them.

“Got a minute?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost careful.

“For you? Always,” E replied, their smile faint but genuine.

Logan sat across from them, his rough hands resting on the polished surface of the table. He didn’t quite know how to start, what to say, but when he opened his mouth, the words just poured out of him, unguarded. “That stuff in the kitchen,” raw emotion coated the rough edges of his voice, “I know it’s all for show, but… damn, you didn’t hold back.”

E winced slightly, their gaze dropping to their notes. “I know. I’m sorry. I hated saying it.” They took a breath, their eyes meeting his again, darker now, their expression tight. “Unfortunately, we might need to take it up a notch. Be even more convincing.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, trying to keep his voice casual. “It’s fine. I ain’t gonna lose sleep over it.” He shot them a look, though—he wasn’t convinced by his own lie. Not entirely. “But if we need to go harder… what’s the plan?”

E’s eyes searched his face for a moment, their fingers brushing against his where they rested on the table. It was brief, but it caught him off guard, something warm and unspoken passing between them. “We make it meaner,” they said quietly, their voice low, tinged with a hint of regret. “You push me, I push back harder. We have to make them believe it’s personal.”

Logan nodded slowly, though the idea of making it worse, of biting deeper, didn’t sit well with him. “You sure you’re up for that?” he asked, his voice gruff despite himself.

“If it means we’ll have better days, then yeah, I am.” E’s hand lingered for a moment longer, their thumb tracing an absent pattern on his skin. The small touch, so simple but with the weight of everything unspoken, grounded him, a silent reassurance amid the chaos they were building. “Are you?”

The question hung in the air, and for a second, the noise of the world outside the library faded away. He exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest releasing with the breath. “Yeah. I’m in.”

A slight twitch at the corners of E’s lips. There was something almost tender in their gaze, a fleeting softness. But that moment was broken by the sound of footsteps approaching. Their expression shifted in an instant—like a switch had been flipped, delicate features hardening suddenly—and their hand pulled away from his, curling into a fist.

Before Logan could react, they smacked him across the face with a loud slap, the sound echoing in the quiet library. “Who the hell do you think you are, Howlett?” E snapped, their voice cold and cutting, each word like the crack of a whip. “Talking to me like that? You think you can just come in here and throw your weight around?”

Logan blinked, the sting of the slap still fresh on his skin, but it wasn’t just the pain that lingered—it was the venom in their tone, keen and raw, that struck deeper. A flicker of heat stirred low in his gut, unbidden and maddening, the kind of sensation that set his instincts on edge. Damn it. He hated how his body responded to the bite of it, to the fire in their eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this twisted pull, the way pain and tension tangled together in a way that left him craving more.

Before Logan could react, they smacked him across the face with a loud slap, the sound echoing in the quiet library.

His gaze flicked toward the doorway, catching Hank standing there, a stack of books balanced in his arms. The doctor’s expression was frozen in surprise, his wide eyes darting between them. Logan forced the heat back, burying it under a scowl.

Without missing a beat, his face twisted into a scowl, his jaw tightening as he played along. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you outta here, witch,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, practically vibrating with barely-contained intensity.

E scoffed, their eyes blazing as they leaned into the act. “Oh, don’t you worry, you rabid dog. I’m leaving. I can’t stand to breathe the same air as you right now.”

They swept up their papers in one sharp motion, the sound of rustling edges filling the heavy silence. Their shoulder brushed his as they stormed past, the contact deliberate and forceful. Logan didn’t move, his hands curling into fists on the table, every muscle in his body taut as he fought the urge to call after them—or worse, follow.

Hank stood rooted to the spot, his mouth opening slightly like he wanted to interject, but whatever words he had died before they could form. He stared after E, then shifted his gaze to Logan, clearly hesitant.

Finally, Logan broke the silence with a grunt, shoving his chair back roughly. The scrape of wood against the floor was loud in the stillness. “What’re you starin’ at, Hank?” His tone was gruff, laced with irritation, but the effort to keep the edge in his voice felt heavier than before.

Hank raised a single eyebrow, his composure sliding back into place like a well-worn mask. “I was about to ask if everything is all right, but… I suppose I already have my answer.”

Logan didn’t reply. Instead, he stalked toward the door, his steps heavy and deliberate, a growl rumbling low in his chest. The act was working. Too well, maybe. And for reasons he didn’t care to admit, that fact sat heavier in his gut than he liked.

Later that night, when sneaking into each other’s rooms wasn’t an option, they both found themselves in the forest clearing. Neither had planned it, but some unspoken pull brought them to this spot, far from the prying eyes and ears of the mansion. It was theirs—a sanctuary untouched by the chaos of their daily lives.

The clearing was quiet, the kind of stillness only the forest could hold. The soft rustle of leaves danced with the cool night breeze, and a sliver of moonlight spilled onto the grass, casting long shadows across the ground. Logan stood a few paces away, rolling his shoulders as he circled E, his gaze locked onto theirs. There was no need for pretense out here.

“You sure you wanna do this tonight?” he asked, his voice low and gruff, carrying a hint of concern that he couldn’t quite mask.

E’s lips curved into a smirk, their stance relaxed, yet poised. “What’s wrong, pretty boy? Afraid I might embarrass you?”

Logan snorted, his mouth twitching into a brief grin. “Ain’t no chance of that, darlin’. But you ain’t exactly fresh off the bench after today.”

“And you are?” E shot back, lunging forward with a quick burst of energy. Logan sidestepped with ease, their movements more familiar to him now. They twisted on their heel, throwing a jab that he caught mid-air, his hand closing firmly around their wrist. A shiver ran down their spine, stoking their hunger in the most exquisite way.

“Point taken,” he muttered, his voice tinged with amusement as he pulled them closer, his smirk returning.

The sparring unfolded in a steady rhythm, their movements fluid and purposeful. It wasn’t just a fight—it was a conversation in motion, a silent exchange of trust and challenge. Each strike, dodge, and counter carried its own cadence, a private language spoken in the dead of the night.

By the time they called it, E was sprawled on the grass, breathless and flushed, sweat glistening on their skin in a way that made Logan’s gaze linger a moment too long. He dropped down beside them, leaning his back against a tree, his eyes roaming over them as a heat that coiled low in his gut tightened, stirred by the sight of them so alive, so unguarded under the moonlight.

“You gotta work on that right hook,” he teased, the grin on his face softening the edge of his words.

E huffed, propping themselves up on their elbows. “I landed it once.”

“Once don’t make a streak, sweetheart,” Logan countered, his voice quieter now as his fingers brushed against theirs in the cool grass.

For a while, they both simply stayed there, the silence between them comfortable, filled only with the soft chirp of crickets and the distant whisper of leaves. Eventually, E sat up, leaning into Logan’s steady frame. Their hand rested lightly on his stomach, fingertips itching to slip beneath his shirt, but as his warmth enveloped them in a way that felt safe, grounding, they didn’t want to break the peace.

“It’s harder than I thought,” they said softly, the words barely breaking the stillness.

Logan turned slightly, his brow furrowing. “What is?”

“This whole thing.” E gestured vaguely at the forest, at him, at everything. “The fights. The secrecy. Hurting you. Hiding—just to be us. It’s only been one day, and I already hate it.”

Logan’s chest tightened, their words circling in his mind, refusing to settle. ‘Just to be us’. The unintentional confession lingered in the air between them, heavy and unspoken. It wasn’t just the exhaustion from the sparring session that had them speaking so openly—it was trust. Trust in him.

He looked down at them, sprawled on the grass, their breathing steadying. Their guard, that armor usually so rigid that centuries had forged, had slipped, leaving behind a version of them few ever got to see. There was a softness there, a vulnerability they rarely allowed, and it filled him with something between awe and a quiet ache. That they thought of them as a ‘us’, even subconsciously, stirred something deep in his chest—a mix of pride, longing, and adoration. That they trusted him enough to bare this side of them made his heart flutter in a way he hadn’t expected.

His hand moved without thought, his fingers brushing through their dark hair with a slow, deliberate reverence. The wavy strands slipped like silk between his fingers, tethering him in the moment, a silent reassurance that this wasn’t just a fleeting dream.

“It’s rough, Angel,” he said softly, his voice gravelly in the quiet. The nickname slipped out naturally, a little softer than usual, carrying more weight. He hesitated, letting the words sink in before adding, “But we’ll push through.”

E’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though their eyes remained fixed on his free hand, resting next to theirs on his stomach. “Yeah, I know,” they murmured. Their fingers shifted, brushing his for a moment before lacing them together. The contact felt soft, simple, yet charged with an unspoken understanding.

They exhaled, their voice tinged with frustration. “It would be easier if we could plan the fights, but we can’t. If we do, it’ll feel… off, staged. They’ll figure us out.”

Logan nodded slowly, his thumb sweeping over their knuckles in soothing circles. “You’re right. It’s gotta feel real… for them and for us.”

That last part slipped out before he could stop it, and he tensed, unsure if they’d catch the hidden meaning. E turned their head, meeting his gaze, their eyes searching his face. “And you’re okay with that?”

His lips quirked into a smirk, his defenses sliding back into place just enough. “I’ll live. Ain’t my first rodeo, sweetheart.” He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from their face, his hand lingering against their cheek before finding hers again. “‘Sides, I’ve had worse things thrown at me than words.”

They leaned into his touch, their eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before reopening, their expression softening. “I hate that it has to be this way,” they admitted quietly.

Logan let out a low, thoughtful hum, lowering his head to nuzzle lightly against theirs. “Me too, Eki,” he murmured almost hesitantly, his voice softer now. “But we’ll get through it. I know we will.”

It was the first time he called them this way. The name rolled off his tongue with a warmth he hadn’t intended, but it was there all the same—gentle and intimate, carrying more weight than he realized.

They stiffened ever so slightly, not out of discomfort but surprise. A flicker of something unfamiliar sparked in their chest at the sound of it, a flutter, and a quiet warmth bloomed around it as they tilted their head to glance at him, lips parting as though to respond, but no words came. The urge to kiss him, to lick and nip at his lips gripped their gut, but they couldn’t, not without harming him.

Instead, they stayed like that, the night wrapping around them both, the stars scattered above like silent witnesses. E sighed, leaning back into him, their head resting against his chest, and he instinctively tightened his arm around them, pulling them closer.

“At least we’ve got this,” he murmured after a long stretch of silence, his voice low but heavy with meaning.

E smiled faintly, their hand squeezing his. “Yeah,” they whispered, warmth coating her tone. “This is nice.”

Logan bent his head, pressing a tender kiss to the top of hers, the gesture unhurried and sincere. “It is,” he agreed.

For now, this was enough. The clearing remained their sanctuary, a pocket of time untouched by the outside world, as they held onto each other, finding strength in their shared determination to see this through, no matter the cost. Whatever came next, they’d face it—together.

The fights had started happening more often—small sparks igniting without warning, flaring into roaring fires. Every little thing became an excuse to clash, to bruise each other for show. It was a performance they played, and the mansion was their stage. It didn’t matter what set them off—a look, a comment, a minor disagreement—each moment seemed to lead them to scrape against each other’s nerves. Yet, beneath the verbal clashes, another kind of pyre burned. This one was different, stoked not by anger but by their need to reassure each other once the curtain fell. It consumed them in private, a fire that was anything but an act.

Logan could feel it burning now, simmering, as he watched E coming out of Charles’ office. He’d been on his way to his first class of the day when his gaze landed on them, and an unexpected warmth blossomed in his chest. They looked composed, calculating as usual, every line of their body a testament to the control they wielded so effortlessly. It was that same composure that made something inside him twist—a familiar frustration, a gnawing at his gut that tainted the lukewarm affection he felt for them.

He hated it—not the ache in his gut or the sight of them, but the distance their polished exterior created. It was a weight he couldn’t shake no matter how hard he tried. Every time, it reminded him that what they had now wasn’t simple anymore, wasn’t easy. There was no space for softness between them, not in public, at least until further notice.

A sigh slipped between his lips, and he braced himself. This was the perfect opportunity, and he couldn’t let it pass. So he picked up the pace, his boots echoing in the hallway as he approached, each step deliberate. E’s eyes caught him, but they didn’t flinch, though there was a flicker of something unguarded flashing across their face—caution—just for a second before the mask fell back into place. Their poise didn’t falter, but Logan saw through it.

“Well, look who’s here,” he drawled, playing the part, his voice loud enough to draw attention, the edge in his tone slicing through the quiet of the hallway, freezing a passing student in their step. “The school’s puppet master.”

E turned to face him fully, their gaze sharp and unreadable as they assessed him. “Howlett,” they replied, stepping into their role, voice low and steady, but it carried a warning. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t start something here.”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, I ain’t starting anything,” Logan shot back, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “Just calling it like I see it.” He took another step, closing the gap just enough to feel the tension coil tighter between them. “You’re always scheming, aren’t you? Pulling strings, keeping everyone in line.” His voice dropped lower, each word sharper than the last. “Bet half the staff’s already eating out of your hand.”

They straightened their stance, jaw tightened, the only crack in their armor. “I’m a qualified lawyer and I’m doing my job,” they said smoothly, though the words came out clipped. “You might want to try that sometime.”

Logan let out a bitter chuckle, his tone laced with mockery. “Oh, I’m workin’ just fine, sweetheart. Don’t need your little lectures. ‘Qualified lawyer,’ huh? Tell me—what’d you do to earn that title? Cheat your way through the bar exam? Maybe pay someone off?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, venomous growl, still very much audible to the audience gathering not far from them. “Or was it somethin’ else? Maybe you just slept your way to the top.”

The words hung in the air like a gunshot, the hallway falling deathly silent. A collective gasp rippled through the few students and staff watching the exchange, their eyes darting between the two of them, waiting for the fallout.

But against all odds, E’s face shifted, their expression a razor-thin mask of mockery, as if the words Logan had thrown at them were beneath consideration. “Watch your mouth, Howlett,” they snapped, voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Another comment like that, and I’ll have you up for sexual harassment.”

For a moment, everything froze. The crowd held its collective breath, the charged stillness pressing in on all sides. Logan’s fists clenched against his thighs, his muscles taut as if ready to snap, to strike at something—anything—to vent the storm that seemed to be brewing inside him. His breath hissed through his teeth, the silence surrounding them hanging thick in the air, leaving only the sound of his heartbeat drumming in his ears.

A few feet from them, the door to Charles’ office swung open, its creak slicing through the tension, a subtle command that immediately stilled the room. The professor’s calm voice followed, cool and unyielding. “That will be enough.” The steady words cut through the sharp air with authority.

Every head turned as the headmaster entered the hallway, his gaze sweeping between Logan and E, the tension palpable. Logan stood bristling, fists still clenched at his sides, while E remained unflinching, their posture a perfect balance of defiance and composure.

“Logan,” Charles began, his tone measured but leaving no room for argument. “This behavior is unacceptable. Whatever concerns you have, this is not the way to address them. Such language and accusations have no place here.”

Logan’s jaw ticked, his teeth grinding together as he shot a glare toward Charles. “You don’t get it, Chuck—”

“On the contrary,” the Professor cut in, his voice firm but even. His eyes, clear and resolute, locked onto Logan’s with quiet strength. “I do. I know exactly what’s happening. But I’m telling you now: it stops here.”

The words hung in the air, firm. He shifted his gaze briefly to E, who stood calm and unaffected, their expression unreadable but charged with unspoken triumph. Logan’s chest rose and fell sharply, frustration seemingly rolling off him in palpable waves. His jaw remained clenched, posture taut, keen eyes betraying nothing but the simmering tension in his frame—a masterful performance that left no cracks for doubt.

Still, Charles continued, his focus shifting back to Logan with unwavering steadiness. “E has earned their place here,” he said, each word measured, deliberate. “Through hard work, expertise, and dedication. Qualities I expect you to recognize and respect. Whatever grievances you harbor, they do not justify this behavior.”

Logan’s chest tightened, his fists flexing against his thighs as a growl rumbled low in his throat. His eyes flicked to E, blazing with fiery defiance that looked convincingly real to anyone watching. Meanwhile, E, ever the picture of composure, turned to Charles with the ease of someone who knew how to play their cards perfectly.

“It’s fine, Professor,” they said smoothly, as if brushing off the situation as a passing annoyance. Their voice carried just enough weight to draw the attention of the onlookers. “Logan’s entitled to his opinions, misplaced as they are. My work isn’t for him to recognize—it’s for the students. That’s what matters.”

A faint murmur of admiration rippled through the crowd at E’s collected response. Logan’s shoulders tensed further, his apparent fury simmering just beneath the surface, but his eyes held a flicker of something almost imperceptible—an edge of satisfaction in how well the act was landing.

Charles nodded at E, his expression approving. “I admire your commitment, E. Truly. However,” he continued, turning back to Logan, his tone sharpening once more. “You are an example here, Logan,” he said, his words leaving no room for argument. “Consequently, I expect better from you. For now, I’d like a word with you in my office.”

Charles turned his wheelchair toward the open door, gesturing for Logan to follow. Logan didn’t move immediately, his body remaining taut, every muscle coiled as if ready to snap. His gaze stayed fixed on E for what felt like an eternity, the tension between them almost electric. But with a reluctant growl, he finally shifted, his heavy footsteps echoing as he stepped into the Professor’s office.

The door clicked shut behind him, its sound reverberating through the hall, leaving hushed conversations in its wake. The lawyer remained still for a moment, head held high, their composure unshaken as the students’ gazes lingered. Curiosity mingled with admiration in their stares, though none noticed the faint smirk curling at the corners of E’s lips—a near-invisible aura of triumph. Without a word, they turned, their stride deliberate, whispers of victory trailing behind them like shadows of their success.

In Charles’ office, the door clicked softly shut, sealing off the muffled hum of conversations outside. Logan crossed the room with deliberate strides, his arms folding tightly over his chest as he stopped in front of the Professor. His stance was taut, his brows drawn, and his jaw clenched—all the hallmarks of frustration expertly crafted into an act that, to anyone else, would seem entirely genuine.

Charles, ever composed, sat calmly behind his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him. His steady gaze met Logan’s, but the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes betrayed an edge of knowing that Logan instantly caught. The flicker of amusement sent a ripple of unease through Logan, but he held firm to the role he’d been playing all morning.

“My friend,” Charles began, his voice smooth and measured, “I think it’s time we discuss this little… performance of yours and E’s.”

Logan’s brows furrowed, his expression hardening with practiced defiance. “If you’re about to tell me to cut it out—”

“Quite the contrary,” Charles interjected, his lips curling into the faintest smile. “You and E are charming idiots, both of you. In fact, I’d say your commitment is remarkable. The arguments are convincing. Almost too convincing.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, though the flicker of his gaze betrayed his uncertainty. “So, you knew?” he asked, his voice low, the usual gravel edged with something lighter—caught between annoyance and relief.

Charles leaned back slightly, his expression softening with patience. “Logan, I am a telepath. Nothing escapes me in this mansion. Did you really think something as… vibrant as your exchanges with E, along with your little settlement, would go unnoticed? I suspected it from the very beginning, but the confirmation came quickly enough.”

Logan shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away, his discomfort evident as the mask slipped from his features. “If you think it’s a waste of time—”

“I think,” Charles cut in smoothly, “that it’s clever. Effective, even. E has been earning the team’s trust far faster than they would through conventional means. Their role as the so-called ‘victim’ in your dynamic has not only won them sympathy but also admiration. And your willingness to take on the role of the aggressor,” he added, his voice dipping with warmth, “speaks volumes about your character.”

Logan’s shoulders stiffened, the compliment settling awkwardly on him. He huffed, shifting his gaze to the side. “Ain’t about me, Chuck. It’s about makin’ sure they get a shot. At the whole thing.”

Charles inclined his head slightly, his smile softening further. “Even so, it takes courage to play the villain, especially when it places you under scrutiny. Your actions show a deeper understanding of what this team needs to thrive.”

Logan scoffed, the heat creeping up his neck. “Yeah, well, don’t go spreadin’ that around. Got a reputation to keep.”

Charles chuckled softly, his amusement tinged with genuine affection. “Your secret is safe with me, Logan. Just be sure to keep the balance. This arrangement, as effective as it is, can’t come at the expense of mutual respect—or your sanity.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, his usual gruffness returning as he grumbled, “We’ll manage. E’s tough—they can take it. We both can.”

Charles nodded, his gaze steady. “I trust that you will. But remember, my friend, even the best performances need the occasional intermission.”

Logan snorted, the corner of his mouth tugging up in reluctant agreement. “Noted. Thanks for not blowin’ it up. Now, if we’re done here…” He gestured vaguely toward the door, his tone laced with impatience but lacking its usual edge. “Got a class to run.”

Charles waved him off with a faint smile. “Of course, my friend. Now, if you would, make a bit of a show as you leave. It wouldn’t do for the others to think you got off easy. And try not to terrorize anyone else on your way out.”

Logan smirked faintly at that before turning away. The tension in his body had eased slightly, and he inhaled deeply, drawing the simmering anger back into his gut to slip into character. With deliberate force, he yanked the door open, letting it slam against the wall. “Got it, boss,” he called over his shoulder, his voice cutting sharply through the room.

He stormed into the hallway, his boots striking the floor in heavy, echoing thuds. His scowl was perfectly crafted—a tempest of irritation that sent students scattering like leaves in a gale. Pale faces turned away, and whispers followed him, swirling in his wake.

Before he could make it far, a door to his right creaked open. A hand shot out, gripping his arm with surprising strength, and hauled him into the shadowy confines of a supply closet. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in near darkness.

“The hell—?” Logan grunted, his surprise barely surfacing before the familiar scent of spice and smoke wrapped around him. His glare softened in an instant, his lips twitching into something close to a smirk. “Eki?”

“Shh,” they whispered, amusement lacing their tone. They pressed closer, their presence steady and teasing. “You’re supposed to be in trouble, remember?”

Logan huffed, his eyes narrowing, though there wasn’t a trace of real irritation. “What’re you playin’ at?”

E leaned in, their hands trailing up his chest with slow, deliberate intent, pausing at his shoulders. The faint light slipping through the door’s edge slanted across their face, highlighting the wicked curve of their lips. “Heard you stomping out of Charles’ office like a wounded bear,” they murmured, their voice dripping with mock concern. “Thought I’d check on you.”

His brow twitched, the stubborn set of his jaw softening despite himself. “Checkin’ on me involves draggin’ me into a closet now?”

E’s smirk widened, their tone a mix of teasing and confidence. “Don’t act like you mind.”

Their movements were playful but edged with intent. They leaned closer, their breath warm against his neck as their lips hovered near his ear. The subtle press of their body against his sent a ripple of heat through him.

“Besides,” they whispered, their voice dipping lower, more intimate, “I wanted to tell you something.”

His hands moved to their hips without a second thought, his fingers settling naturally along the curve of their waist. “Yeah? What’s so damn important it can’t wait?”

E’s fingers drifted lazily over his arms, their touch light but electric. They tilted their head, their lips brushing his ear in a deliberate, measured move. “You were so hot when you yelled at me earlier,” they murmured, their voice a sultry purr. “All fire and fury… made me want to slap you again just to see what you’d do.”

Logan’s breath hitched, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his throat as his grip tightened on their hips, just enough to warn. “You’re playin’ with fire, Angel.”

E pulled back slightly to meet his gaze, their eyes glittering with mischief and challenge. They could feel his hunger feeding their own. “Am I?”

Their voice was soft but charged, every syllable a spark fanning the flames between them. The pull was undeniable, intoxicating, and he felt himself give in, just enough to let them reel him closer. Damn it—he didn’t want to fight it. Not this time.

“You’re lucky we’re in this closet,” Logan muttered, his voice dropping to a low, rough tone that sent a shiver through the confined space.

E tilted their head, their smirk softening into something warmer, almost tender. “Lucky?” they asked, their tone playful but carrying a trace of sincerity. “Or smart?”

A quiet huff of laughter escaped him, the tension in his hands loosening slightly as his grip softened on their hips. But his fingers stayed, a lingering reminder of the fire simmering beneath the surface. “Maybe both,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

The air between them grew heavy, thick with a charged anticipation neither seemed willing to shatter. Time stretched, every heartbeat amplifying the pull between them, the unspoken heat crackling like a wildfire ready to ignite, a match struck on a flint.

Then, faint footsteps drifted in from the hallway—distant, but clear enough to cut through the tension.

They both froze.

Logan recovered first, his voice steady, though the faint edge in it betrayed his reluctance. “We should get outta here before someone catches us.” Yet he didn’t pull away, didn’t move to create the distance his words suggested.

E leaned in, their lips brushing lightly against the crook of his neck. The touch was fleeting, soft as a feather, yet it left a mark he couldn’t ignore. They lingered for a moment before pulling back, their voice a low murmur. “Guess so. But next time, Howlett…”

They let the words hang for a beat, their smile teasing but layered with something deeper. “You owe me a real fight.”

Logan smirked, one corner of his mouth quirking up in that familiar, roguish way that made it impossible to tell if he was amused or intrigued. He cracked the door open, peering into the hallway. Satisfied the coast was clear, he glanced back, kissing their cheek quickly and murmuring, his voice a quiet promise, “You’ll get one.”

He stepped out into the corridor like nothing had happened, his boots striking the floor with a steady, confident rhythm. The sound echoed faintly as he disappeared down the hall.

E lingered in the closet for a moment, their smile turning satisfied as they watched him go. Something flickered in their expression—anticipation, maybe hope—as they slipped out in the opposite direction, the promise of what was to come hanging thick in the air between them.

The common room resonated softly with the chatter of Ororo, Marie, and Kitty. Seated in a cozy cluster around a small table, they were quietly planning their next trip to the mall. Kitty leaned in, her eyes sparkling as she described a sweater she had spotted online, while Ororo listened with a small, indulgent smile that softened her regal demeanor. Marie occasionally chimed in, her voice warm and lilting, adding her own thoughts about colors and styles.

A few feet from them, E sat upright on the couch in the center of the room, one leg crossed over the other, a cup of tea resting steadily on their knee. They watched the television with quiet focus, as the news anchor’s voice delivered updates about local events. There was a trace of weariness in their posture, the kind of exhaustion that settled behind the eyes and hinted at a long day spent poring over legal documents.

The moment Logan entered, the room’s tranquil atmosphere shifted. He strolled in with his usual swagger, the faint scent of cigar smoke trailing him. His flannel sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his sturdy forearms. His gaze swept the room briefly before he plopped down beside E without a word. His hand brushed their knee as he reached for the remote on the coffee table, a casual but deliberate motion that claimed space.

Click.

The news was replaced by the vibrant green of a baseball field, the roar of the crowd pouring from the speakers. A game was already in progress, the commentary animated and full of energy.

E let out an audible sigh, their lips pressing into a thin line. “Seriously?”

“Game’s on,” Logan replied casually, settling back into the couch, his feet on the coffee table, as if nothing were amiss. He didn’t even look at them, his eyes fixed on the screen, his poise relaxed but unyielding.

E’s hand shot out and snatched the remote from his grip, flicking the channel back to the news. “I was watching that.”

Logan straightened slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “Yeah? Well, now I’m watchin’ this.” He grabbed the remote again, switching it back to the game, with a decisive press on the TV clicker.

The tension between them crackled like static electricity, the air thick with unspoken challenge.

E’s jaw tightened. “Are you five? Grow up, Howlett.” With measured precision, they took the remote again and returned the television to the news. Their movements were controlled, deliberate, as though refusing to let Logan’s antics rattle them.

His eyes narrowed, his voice dropping as he leaned in. “You’ve got somethin’ to say, witch?” The word was low but sharp, cutting like a blade slipping between ribs.

Behind them, the conversation amongst the others faltered. Ororo exchanged a glance with Marie, and Kitty froze mid-laugh, her eyes darting between the two.

E didn’t rise to the bait, not at first. They simply set the clicker down on the arm of their side of the couch, their gaze fixed on Logan. “I’m trying to stay informed. Something you should try once in a while.”

Logan smirked, though there was no humor in it. “Informed, huh? That why I don’t see you in the Danger Room? Too busy stayin’ ‘informed’ to pull your weight?”

E’s expression hardened, their composure cracking slightly. “I’m not a soldier, Logan. I never signed up to be. Unlike you, I have an actual job that involves more than swinging claws or quoting history. Being a lawyer means spending hours—days, even—preparing cases, handling crises, and keeping this place from falling apart.”

“Sure,” Logan drawled, leaning back with an exaggerated shrug. “Real noble. But we’re all bustin’ our asses for this school, so what makes you so special that you can skip out on the hard work?”

E’s voice dropped, each word razor-sharp. “The work I do is just as important as your training sessions. Or do you think the contracts you sign, the legal battles I fight, and the protections I negotiate are meaningless?”

Logan chuckled darkly, the sound low and mocking. “Contracts don’t save lives when the next fight comes knockin’, sweetheart. Maybe you’re just lookin’ for excuses. It’s easier to sit on the sidelines than to get your hands dirty, huh?”

The jab landed. A flicker of hurt flashed in E’s eyes, quickly masked by steely resolve. They inhaled deeply, their voice steady but heavy with disappointment. “I thought we were on the same side, Logan.” The weight of their words hung in the air, each syllable a quiet accusation. “Guess I was wrong.”

The room’s silence was suffocating, the atmosphere unbearable.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching on his thighs, and for a moment, it seemed like he might back down. Instead, he stood abruptly, his gaze hard and unyielding. “You don’t know the first thing about loyalty.”

The words hit like a hammer, reverberating in the heavy silence that followed. Before anyone could react, Logan turned on his heel and strode out, his boots thudding against the wooden floor with each step.

E remained seated, their face unreadable save for the faint trembling of their hand as they gripped the arm of the couch. After a moment, they set their tea down with careful precision and stood, smoothing their clothes as if to steady themselves.

“Wow,” Kitty murmured, breaking the silence. “What the hell’s his problem?”

Ororo’s gaze lingered on E, sympathy softening her sharp features. “Are you okay?”

The lawyer managed a tight smile, though it didn’t reach their eyes. “I’m fine. Thanks.” Their voice was composed, but there was a brittleness to it, like glass under strain. With a measured motion, they reached for their teacup, lifting it carefully as if it provided some small anchor in the wake of the exchange. “I should…get back to work.”

Without another word, E left the room. Their posture remained straight and unwavering, but there was something fragile in their steps, as if they carried the weight of Logan’s words with them. Behind them, Ororo, Marie, and Kitty exchanged quiet glances, their subdued chatter shifting to murmurs about Logan’s behavior. They kept their voices low, but their concern lingered in the air, tangible and unresolved, as though the room itself hadn’t quite recovered from the tension.

The Danger Room’s hum vibrated softly in the air as the team gathered, the younger members shifting with barely contained energy while the veterans stood with their usual aura of quiet confidence. Charles’s voice rang out, calm and commanding, as he outlined the day’s objective: clearing one floor of a simulated building of hostile threats and rescuing the hostage.

As usual, people paired off naturally. Scott and Jean exchanged a glance, already stepping into position together. Ororo teamed up with Kurt, offering a serene nod in his direction. Kitty, Marie, and Bobby gravitated toward each other, chatting quietly in low voices.

That left E and Logan, awkwardly standing in the cleared center of the room, where the group had split into smaller teams around them. The silence between them bristled with unspoken tension.

Scott frowned, his visor glinting under the cold light. “Are we seriously pairing them together?”

“They did well during the trial last week,” Charles reminded him, his tone firm yet patient. “Better than anyone expected. It only makes sense for them to try working together again. And perhaps channeling that aggression as a team will mend some of it. ”

Skeptical glances passed between the team members. Logan crossed his arms, his stance as rigid as stone. E stood beside him, their posture stiff and guarded, though their eyes darted toward the others, catching every raised brow and murmured whisper. At least they didn’t sense outright hostility from the rest of the group, which was a small relief amidst the tension.

Finally, Charles’s voice cut through the room with quiet authority. “Begin the simulation.” The words were directed at Hank in the command center, where Charles was now heading as the machinery of the room began to hum louder.

The walls around the X-Men and E shifted, morphing into the interior of a crumbling high-rise. The floor beneath their feet groaned ominously, and the sound of distant gunfire echoed from somewhere above.

Logan glanced at E as they moved cautiously down a simulated hallway. “We take the stairs. Blitz ‘em all the way to the hostage. End it quick.”

E raised an eyebrow. “Blitz? That’s your plan? You think we’re going up against a horde of mindless zombies, or did I miss the memo?”

Logan growled low in his throat. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t have time for your lawyer talk. You want to win, you hit hard and fast.” He punctuated his words by striking his left palm with his right fist.

E stopped mid-step, their gaze catching on the floor layout displayed on a nearby wall. They gestured toward it, a hint of strategy sparking in their tone. “Or, we could think for more than two seconds. See this?” They pointed to a narrow corridor on the map. “That’s a bottleneck—perfect for an ambush. We lure them in, control the fight, and pick them off one by one.”

“You mean drag it out,” Logan muttered.

“Ororo?” E called out over their shoulder. “What’s your take?”

The white haired woman, walking a few feet behind with Kurt, tilted her head thoughtfully. “It’s a sound strategy. Fighting smart is just as important as fighting hard.”

Jean chimed in, her voice measured and calm. “Agreed. Brute force only gets you so far. For all we know, there could be fifty of them in there.”

Logan turned to Scott, silently hoping for backup, but Scott merely folded his arms and gave him a look—a pointed one, like Logan had just suggested fighting blindfolded. Even Kurt’s tail twitched awkwardly, as though uncomfortable with Logan’s stubbornness.

“Fine,” Logan grumbled at last, his voice dripping with reluctance. “We’ll do it your way.”

“Good choice,” E quipped, already moving ahead.

Scott stepped forward, his visor glinting in the dim light as he addressed the team. “Here’s the plan. Storm and Nightcrawler, you’re on decoy duty—draw their attention toward the main corridor. Shadowcat, Rogue, and Iceman, you’re the scout team. Find the hostage and get them to safety. Jean, Wolverine, and E, you’re with me at the choke point. We’ll hold the line and clean up any stragglers.”

The group split seamlessly into their designated roles. Ororo and Kurt advanced toward the wide-open hall at the far end of the floor, preparing to lure the enemy, while Logan, E, and Jean moved into position at the narrow corridor for the ambush.

Ororo stepped into the open, her eyes faintly glowing as she summoned a swirling gale. A deafening crash echoed through the space as she hurled a metal filing cabinet into a crumbling wall, scattering debris and drawing immediate shouts from the mercenaries.

Kurt vanished with a soft bamf, reappearing behind two guards. Before they could react, he disarmed one with a sharp tail swipe and incapacitated the other with a swift punch. A third guard spun toward him, but a gust of wind sent the man’s weapon skidding out of reach.

“That’s our cue,” Ororo murmured, retreating into the shadows. Kurt followed, the sound of their retreat baiting the mercenaries into pursuit.

At the bottleneck, Logan crouched low, claws unsheathed, his muscles taut as he prepared for the enemy to funnel in. E stood to his left, chakrams glinting in the dim light as they adjusted their stance.

“Remember: controlled chaos,” E said lightly. “Try not to go feral too fast.”

“Funny,” Logan muttered, his eyes narrowing as the first wave of mercenaries rounded the corner.

Jean stood behind them, her focus locked as she created a shimmering telekinetic barrier to intercept the inevitable projectiles. The mercenaries opened fire, but their bullets froze mid-air, suspended like raindrops caught in time.

Logan surged forward, slashing through their ranks with brutal precision. E darted to his side, chakrams spinning in graceful arcs that deflected bullets and struck with unerring accuracy. A guard raised his weapon, only for one of E’s metal disks to slice through it before returning to their hand in a fluid motion.

“Not bad for a desk jockey,” Logan muttered, slicing through another mercenary with a savage sweep of his claws.

E smirked, ducking under a wild swing and planting a chakram squarely into an enemy’s knee. “Thanks, lumberjack. Didn’t know you even knew what a desk was.”

Logan snorted, sidestepping an incoming blow. “I know plenty. Like how not to overthink in a fight.”

E shot him a sharp look, flicking their chakram with a flourish that knocked a gun from another guard’s hand. “Overthink? Sorry, some of us like to use both brains and brawn. It’s called multitasking.”

“Focus!” Jean snapped, her barrier flickering briefly under the hail of bullets as she reinforced it with a concentrated burst of telekinetic energy.

“Scout team, status?” Scott’s voice crackled over the comms.

Kitty’s reply was calm but clipped. “Hostage located. Three guards in the room. Reinforcements heading this way. We can’t engage yet—too many nearby.”

“Understood,” Scott replied. “We’ll clear the path soon.”

“Yep, soon would be great,” Bobby’s voice chimed in, followed by the faint sound of ice cracking.

Scott turned his attention to Ororo and Kurt. “Decoy team, double back and draw reinforcements away from their position. Make it loud and chaotic.”

Ororo gave a nod and turned to Kurt with a playful smile. “Time for a distraction?”

He reached out, grabbing her hand with his blue-skinned one, his smile matching hers. “Let’s make it count.” They both vanished in another one of his characteristic bamfs.

The team at the bottleneck only heard the distant sounds of chaos—shouts, clangs, and the occasional explosion—as the decoy team created their diversion.

“Chaotic enough for you?” Kurt’s voice crackled over the comms.

“Nice work, keep going,” Scott instructed.

Not far from him, the fight intensified. More mercenaries poured in, Logan's large frame crowding them into chaotic clusters in the narrow corridor. One lobbed a grenade, but E reacted quickly, their chakrams spinning out and deflecting it into the wall. The explosion sent a shockwave rippling through the space, leaving E’s ears ringing but sparing the team from serious harm.

Logan growled, claws carving through the crowd with brutal precision. “They just keep comin’,” he muttered, elbowing a guard in the face before slashing another across the chest.

“Almost like they’re programmed to, huh?” E quipped, catching one of their chakrams mid-spin and flicking it toward an approaching guard.

Scott’s optic blast tore through the adjacent wall, collapsing part of the corridor and forcing the mercenaries into an even tighter cluster.

“Nice,” E muttered, resetting their chakrams on the hooks at the back of their shirt.

Logan, now drenched in sweat, glanced over his shoulder at Jean. “Think you can drop somethin’ on ‘em?”

Jean nodded, her telekinetic energy flaring as she wrenched a section of the crumbling ceiling down onto the remaining guards. Dust and debris filled the air, muffling the mercenaries’ groans as they scrambled to recover.

“All clear on our end,” Scott called into the comms. “Scout team, you’re up. Decoy team, escort them back.”

On cue, the younger team members escorted the hostage out, covered by Ororo and Kurt. Together, they retreated under the relentless flow of enemies, making their way to the staircase—the designated extraction point according to the simulation.

The high-rise dissolved back into the metallic walls of the Danger Room as the simulation halted.

“Nice work, team,” Charles’s voice echoed from the speakers above.

Logan rolled his shoulders, claws retracting with a metallic snakt. “Would’ve been faster my way.”

E wiped a bit of sweat from their brow, tossing him a dry look. “Faster, maybe. Messier, definitely.”

Logan smirked, something feral flickering in his eyes. “I’ll give you messy, sweetheart.”

Before E could retort, Logan lunged.

Gasps rippled through the team as Logan’s massive frame barreled toward the lawyer. But instead of bracing for impact, E moved.

They dodged to the side, fluid as water, sliding past his outstretched arms. Logan whirled around, but E was already behind him, darting away like a shadow slipping through cracks.

Their movements became a dance—graceful, calculated, almost mesmerizing. E sidestepped his strikes, ducked under his swipes, their bare feet gliding across the floor with uncanny ease. A faint smile tugged at their lips, their eyes alight with challenge.

Logan, by contrast, was all force and fury, each swing of his arms carrying enough power to send anyone else sprawling. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t catch them.

“Quit dancin’, witch,” he growled, his voice rough and strained.

“You quit swinging, old bear,” E shot back, twisting out of his grasp once more.

The onlookers watched in stunned silence. To anyone else, it might’ve looked like Logan was furious, his teeth bared and his movements unrelenting. But the subtle nuances of his posture—how his shoulders stayed loose, how his strikes never fully committed—told a different story.

And, of course, E saw everything.

Finally, Logan managed to grab them, his arms encircling their waist in a vice grip. He pressed them firmly against his chest, his breathing heavy, his pulse hammering against theirs.

From the outside, it looked like he wanted to crush them. But up close, the heat of his gaze burned with something far more intense than anger.

E’s breath hitched, and they fought to keep a smirk from curling their lips. Instead, their fingers brushed against his chest, reluctant to break the embrace, but they needed the show to keep going so they pushed him back with all their strength, slipping free of his hold.

“That’s enough!” Charles’s voice cut through the tension like a whip as he entered the room again.

Logan stepped back, his chest heaving, though the predatory gleam in his eyes didn’t fade. “Logan. E. My office. Now!”

The rest of the team stared as the two of them followed Charles’s voice toward the exit, leaving the charged silence of the Danger Room behind.

“Am I the only one who thinks that was…” Kitty began, searching for the right word.

“Terrifying?” Kurt offered.

“Hot,” Marie muttered under her breath, earning an amused eye roll from Ororo.

But no one dared say anything else.

Charles sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled as he regarded Logan and E with a calm but pointed gaze. They stood across from him, arms crossed in a near-mirror of each other, just as they had during their discussion about Logan’s contract weeks ago. However, the tension between them now was markedly less volatile than it had been back then.

“You did well today,” Charles began, his tone measured. “The training session proved that the team has accepted you, E. They trust your skills and instincts. However…”

Logan shifted his weight with a grunt, already sensing where this was headed.

“…you both need to work on mending the… tension that you’ve been projecting toward each other,” Charles continued.

E raised an eyebrow, their lips twitching with mild amusement.

Charles’s gaze flicked between them. “You’ve played this ruse of animosity so convincingly that it’s starting to unsettle the team. If they find out you’ve been misleading them, it could lead to feelings of betrayal, even resentment, and undermine all the progress you’ve worked so hard to achieve.”

“Great,” Logan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “So what, we’re supposed to just stop fightin’ all at once?”

“Not quite,” Charles replied with a small smile. “I suggest spacing out these little arguments. Gradually lessen the intensity. Make it appear as though you’ve come to a mutual understanding over time.”

E exchanged a look with Logan, their shared exasperation reflected in his expression. “Honestly? That sounds like the most exhausting part of this entire charade.”

“No kidding,” Logan grunted. “It’s been weeks of butting heads during the day, and I hate it.”

“You hate it?” E shot back, their voice dripping with mock incredulity. “Try being on the receiving end of your constant growling.”

“Yeah, well, you’re no picnic either, sweetheart.”

Charles raised a hand, silencing them before the exchange could escalate further. “I trust the two of you can manage for the sake of the team.”

Both of them nodded, though they shared a small, sheepish smile.

“Good. That will be all for now.”

As they walked down the hall, the guarded tension dissolved entirely now that they were alone, replaced by an easy companionship they both found natural. The faint murmur of voices drifted from the dining room, and both of them slowed instinctively, ears pricking as snippets of conversation reached them.

“I think we’ve been too hard on E,” Marie was saying, her tone tinged with guilt. “They’ve got good instincts, and they’re a damn good strategist.”

“Agreed,” Ororo added. “Their fighting style is intriguing—fluid, adaptive. We could all learn something from that approach.”

Hank’s thoughtful voice joined in. “I did some research on kalaripayattu, their preferred martial art. It’s not just excellent for coordination but also sharpens the mind. A fascinating discipline.”

“You’re all missing the bigger picture,” Scott interjected, his voice edged with frustration. “Logan’s the real problem here. He’s been acting irrationally for weeks.”

Kurt spoke next, his tone hesitant but sympathetic. “He has not left the mansion in a long time. Perhaps he is… how do you say… getting cabin fever?”

“I personally think Logan is an ass, and that’s not gonna change overnight,” Scott added, drawing a few chuckles. “It’s just his basic instincts resurfacing.”

“Or maybe it’s some kind of twisted mating ritual?” Bobby quipped. “Am I the only one who noticed how they were watching each other during that fight? I couldn’t tell if they were going to kill each other or just have sex on the floor.”

Laughter rippled through the room, and Jean’s voice was the next to cut through. “I think he’s taking it out on E because they’re both such strong personalities. And, let’s face it, they couldn’t be more opposite if they tried.”

Logan and E exchanged a glance in the hallway, a slow, knowing look passing between them. A faint smile tugged at both their lips, underlining the shared triumph. Mission accomplished.

Neither of them said a word at first as they continued walking, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. As they reached the next corridor, Logan glanced around, checking to see if they were alone. Then, with a swift motion, he leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to their cheek, his voice low as he murmured, “See you later, Angel.”

The warmth of his words and the kiss lingered as he turned and strode toward his room, leaving E to stand there for a moment, their fingers brushing the spot he’d kissed. They watched him disappear around the corner before turning on their heel and heading in the opposite direction, a small, lingering smile playing on their lips.

To be continued…

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lillaydee · 1 month ago

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The Arrangement Part 11

Pioneer! Joel Miller / Reader

Your life crumbled to nothing during a migration to Jackson, forcing you to agree to an arrangement just to survive.

NOTE: Possible inaccuracies in baby developments, food intake and inheritance or ownership laws coming. I really know nothing, but I needed to put some stuff in for the sake of the story line, so please forgive me and take everything in the spirit of storytelling yeah?

WARNINGS: Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel Bonding (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Frontier Joel, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Virgin Joel, Virgin Reader, Minor Character Death, Period-typical Misogyny, Marriage of Convenience

SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 10

WARNING - POSSIBLE NON-SMUTTING SMUT COMING UP.

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Joel stared at you for a while, asking you if you were sure. His breathing immediately changed when you shyly nodded, biting your lower lip. It’s okay, you told him. We can learn together. He lowered his body and hugged you tight, being careful not to squish you.

“I’m terrified that I might hurt you again,” he whispered. “I don’t think I can put you through that again.”

You coaxed him into lifting his head, rubbing your nose to his, telling him that you promised you would tell him if he hurt you this time.

“You promise?”

“I do.”

“I love you, darling.”

“Love you too… please, husband, kiss me. I miss my husband’s lips.”

He kissed you, slow and deliberate, determined to take his time. He wanted to feel you, savour you, make you feel good. His hands began roaming about your body, slowly caressing every inch of you that he could reach. He kept at it until you were writhing for more, leaving your lips, kissing you tenderly all over your face, telling you over and over that he loved you, that he’s sorry, that he couldn’t live without you, whispering how beautiful you were, how lucky he was to have you as his wife. He trailed his kisses to your cheek, onto your ear, tracing it with his tongue, listening to your breathing change, softly smiling, aware that he was already doing better than he did before.

He traced the soft outlines of your jaw with his own, his scruff leaving a delicious trail on your skin, before going lower to your neck, placing open mouthed kisses as he went, feeling your hands caressing his back, your mouth opened, your eyes trying so hard to stay open to watch him go lower down your body.

His hands unbuttoned your dress, where his clumsy, massive fingers had trouble with dealing with some of the more delicate, decorative ones, before he looked at you pleadingly, asking for help. You laughed, undoing the buttons yourself. Your hands were barely finished with the final button when he ripped the front of your dress apart, revealing your camisole and drawers to him. He sat between your legs, taking in what he saw, the materials nowhere near thick enough to hide what was underneath.

You sat up, taking your hands out of the sleeves of your dress, lifting your body slightly to pull the dress out from under you. He had gone still, his eyes roving over your naked shoulders, your neckline, your bare arms, your almost exposed chest… You hesitated at first, but your hands slowly went to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. You got closer to him, trailing your fingers over his lips, lightly going lower and lower over his chin, his neck, his strong chest, down to his stomach, where your trail was obstructed by his trousers, where something was tenting it. You made to untie his trousers, your hand brushing against his hard member, and he stopped you, his breath ragged, his eyes closed, shaking his head, telling you not yet.

He toyed with the hem of your camisole, his eyes darting up to yours, seeking permission to take it off. You lowered you gaze, took a deep breath, and lifted it off your head yourself, and you heard his breathing noticeably stopped.

He was openly staring at your chest, eyes wide, pupils black, mouth open, jaw slack, looking like he could salivate at any moment. He was frozen, though. You suddenly got self-conscious, your hand shooting up across your chest. His hands shot up, taking your hand off, placing it at your side, before travelling back up to touch your breasts gently, his breathing had resumed, harder than before. He toyed with the underside, before his thumbs grazed your nipples, causing your eyes to close, your breath hitching.

His eyes shot up to yours, a small smile gracing his lips from your reaction. He leaned over and kissed you, slowly setting you back down on the mattress, one hand on your cheek, the other remaining on your breast, toying with your nipple, and when he accidentally flicked it, you responded with an involuntary moan.

His lips quickly left yours, lowering down to your chest, taking your right nipple into his mouth, and your body surged upwards, your hand going to the back of his head. His left hand toyed with your left breast, plucking at your nipple, while his mouth and tongue worked together, doing unthinkable, delicious things to your right one, before switching over to your left, his right hand immediately taking over what his mouth had just left behind.

He was making you feel so good, oh, so good. But it was still not enough. Your body had trouble staying still, his dalliances left the rest of your body not covered by his warm mouth or hands shivering. His hips began rocking into yours, brushing against your lower region, making you swoon. You rocked your hips back up to him, and the pressure of his hardness between your legs left you light headed.

He groaned, pulling back to crush his lips against yours, hands all over your body, pulling you so close to him you could hardly breathe.

Were you breathing? Did you say something? Did he say something?

Huh?

“I asked if you liked that, darling, but I think I know the answer.”

There was a smirk on his face, looking so happy he made you feel good.

“Please don’t stop. Please…”

He kissed you again, before going lower down your body, licking every inch of your skin all the way down to your belly button, before sitting back up, his hands untying your drawers, before placing them on your waistband, looking up at you, asking you if he could please, please, take it off.

You lifted your hips, and he carefully, slowly, slipped the material off you, his eyes landing immediately between your legs. You closed your legs, earning you a groan from him, his chin fell onto your knees, arms hugging them, his eyes begging, pleading with you to open them back up. Please, darling. Let me see you.

You had no idea what came over you. But you pouted and shook your head, your eyes cheeky. You first, you said, a sly smile on your face. He huffed a small laugh, before getting off the bed, and hesitantly, slowly, lowering his trousers, letting it fall onto the floor. He stepped out of them, his eyes on you, his nerves and insecurity clearly showing.

Oh my.

It’s no wonder you were in so much pain.

You sat up, hands immediately taking his thighs, pulling him closer to you. You stared at this beautiful, magnificent piece of equipment he had been hiding from you, and with much curiosity, you lifted your hand, and lightly traced the length of it with your finger.

His body jerked backwards, hissing at your touch, his eyes closed, his member twitching, as if having a life of its own. Your hands shot out and grabbed his thighs again, eyes pleading at him to come back closer, and he did, albeit with much reluctance. You retraced the strong, visible vein that you saw, his hands going up to clutch his own hair, his chest heaving, his breath sounding like he was in danger of exploding. You kept going, until you reached his balls, at which point he pulled your hand away, his breath sounding as if he had just ran uphill, telling you that you needed to stop.

“Why? Am I hurting you?”

“God, no. It felt too good, darling. I want to make you feel good before I finish.”

“You did.”

“No, darling. I’m not done.”

There was such promise in his eyes, you decided to give in. He kissed you again, pushing you gently back down, before putting his hands on your knees, gently prying it open for him. Please open your legs darling, let me see.

You parted your legs a little bit, and he sat cross legged right up to you, placing your legs above his knees, hanging off his lap. He stared at your lady, seemingly awestruck by what he saw, his rough, calloused, hardworking hands caressing your thighs. He looked at you, realizing that you had your hands bunched up together on your tummy, eyes averted from his own. He took your hands in his, gently prying them apart, asking you to please look at him. Please, Darling, I need to see your beautiful face to know if I’m hurting you, alright?

You nodded, your nerves showing. He asked if he could please touch you. You nodded, prepared to close your legs, too nervous and embarrassed for words. He kissed your hands, telling you that you are beautiful. All of you, Darling. She’s beautiful. Just like you.

And with that, he wet his fingers with his mouth and placed them on your lady.

Oh.

Your legs involuntarily jerked.

His eyes darted towards yours, checking on you, to see of you were alright.

He moved his fingers slightly.

Oh, my.

Your legs seemed to have a habit of jerking today. Perhaps the ailment you had felt before, the one where your legs felt weak when watching him bathe was back?

He moved his fingers lower, and you gasped a little, your hips twitching. He then moved back to where he originally was, moving his fingers gently in small circles, just ghosting off your pleasure point, causing your breath to hitch.

“Am I hurting you darling?”

You could only shake your head, your eyes having trouble staying open.

He continued what he was doing, more pressure this time, and your hands clutched the sheets on his bed. His fingers continued circling, a lazy movement, making you lose all sense of senses and time of day. He kept at it, going lower every few minutes, before continuing, faster, tighter, as your breath got shorter, raspier, harder.

Something was happening. The ailment you felt before, it’s not only back, it’s vengeful… oh no, or dear Lord, oh God, what was happening to you? Your heart was beating far too fast, your breath in short bursts. You must be dying. This was it. You were going to die. You were sure of it. And yet, you were not afraid, looking forward to it, in fact. Something was telling you to bear it, you were climbing, higher, higher, higher. What you were climbing exactly, you didn’t know. But this climb felt so good. Your chest was heaving, your breath loud, your throat dry, your head empty, and suddenly, your body seized, your mouth open, a silent scream that only you could hear filling your ears, your head shot back on your pillow, eyes shut tight, as bursts of pleasure shot through your entire body, beginning at your core, where your husband’s fingers were working their wonders on you, travelling all the way to the ends of your limbs, all over every surface of your skin, before going up to your head, releasing itself through the roots of your hair.

When the world had righted itself again, you opened your eyes, your sight spotty, your ears ringing, to see your husband sitting between your legs, the most elated look on his face, his free hand rubbing your tummy, his dominant hand rubbing your lady lightly, causing you to jerk away from him.

“Joel…”

“Did you like it, darling?”

You couldn’t answer. But he took your wide smile and flushed body as a yes, happiness clearly written all over his face. He looked at his hand, now wet from your lady’s celebration, his smile disappearing, his hand lifted to his mouth, before he slowly tasted your dripping juices off it.

“Joel, no!”

It was like he couldn’t hear you. His eyes were shut, savouring what he was tasting, a moan escaping him, before he opened his eyes, dark with need, and lowered himself between your legs, hugging your thighs tightly to his shoulders.

Oh dear God. What was he doing?

You felt something touching your lady, slowly, tentatively. You got up on your elbows to see. Both his hands were visible to you, tightly holding your thighs in place. His eyes visible to you, from between your legs. But… if his hands were right there… what was doing this delicious…

Oh…

His beautiful face was pressed almost right up to your lady.

Oh, dear Lord. How obscene.

Before you could say anything, he took a deep breath, his eyes closing in ecstasy, before his tongue continued what his fingers started.

He feasted on you, his tongue playing with your pleasure centre, a hungry growl escaping his throat as he devoured your lady, tearing you apart layer by layer, making you cry out, babbling some nonsensical mumbo jumbo that could rival Ellie’s yammering, your legs were shaking, your hips lifting, seeking more from him. You felt yourself begin to climb, when suddenly, you felt his fingers join his mouth, gently, slowly, probing your entrance, before pushing in.

His name, Joel, was a simple name. Four letters. And even then, the E was silent. So really, his name only required three letters to pronounce, one single syllable. Up until now, you had no idea that saying his name, that simple, single-syllabled, three lettered name, would be such an impossibility.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t say his name. Hell, you couldn’t remember your own name. The sounds this man was pulling out of you were those you had never thought you could ever make before. You could feel him moving his fingers in and out of you, his tongue moving faster and faster, before you felt his fingers stretching you, making you scramble for purchase of anything within reach, breathing no longer possible, and before you knew it, you were grasping at his hair, your body lifting, your back arched, as the climb peaked, faster, harder, stronger than before, leaving your body trembling and tingling, your ears ringing, and before you could even make sense of what was going on, he was back on top of you, kissing you with such fervour he left your mind empty except for thoughts of him.

He looked deep into your eyes, asking you if you were ready for him. You pulled him back down for a kiss, your legs opened wide for him, your hand searching, grasping his member, causing him to stiffen and moan into your mouth, before finally, slowly, he breached your entrance.

It stung, but it was nothing like before. You welcomed the sting. He kept asking you if he was hurting you, and you kept kissing him, pulling his hips closer and closer to you every single time he pulled back. When he was finally fully in, he asked you again if you were alright, his body stiff from trying to control himself. You pulled him down to you again, asking him to just hold you close, relax, husband, I’m alright. You made me feel so good. I love you so much.

He immediately relaxed, telling you he loved you too, before kissing you again, slowly moving in and out of you, his moans turning into whimpers, telling you that you felt so good, you make me feel so good darling, I love you so much. His movements didn’t last long, he was much too overwhelmed, and before long, he stiffened on top of you, kissing you like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do, hugging you close, whimpering and whining and grunting into your mouth, before rolling over, taking you with him.

The two of you just laid there, silence in the room, except for your heavy breathing.

When the heavy breathing stopped, it was as if he had been in a trance before, and now he was woken up. He quickly sat up, checking your body for any signs that might have suggested he had caused you pain, panic in his eyes.

You had to assure him that he did not, in fact hurt you that day. That he did make you feel so good, twice. That you were so in love with him. That you did forgive him, that you never want to go for weeks without touching or kissing him again.

You pulled him back down, letting him rest his head on your chest, kissing the top of his head, playing with his hair, until you heard a soft snore escaping him, and you fell asleep with him, a huge smile on your face.

You belonged to the first group of ladies, after all.

**********

Joel woke up not an hour later feeling lazy, sated and comforted. He carefully extracted himself from your arms, laid himself next to you, facing you, and watched you sleep.

He did it. He made you feel good and he didn’t hurt you. His chest puffed up a bit at the thought. The sounds you were making, the way your body moved, was so much better than anything he had ever imagined. He knew he helped you finish. Twice. He only wished he could’ve given you another.

The way he felt, knowing you felt that good because of him, made him feel like he was on top of the world. And the way he felt when he was inside you… he didn’t think anything could top the feeling he felt that frightful night, a feeling that, despite the pain it caused you, was so good his brain left his body. But today… this was different. Your moans and whimpers, your soft lips, your body moulded onto his, oh… this must be heaven. A heaven that he intended to revisit again and again.

He watched your sleeping face, unable to imagine waking up to an empty bed ever again. His heart felt so full he wanted to scream with joy, let everyone know how lucky he was to have you in his life. He was so in love with you the thought of not having you around anymore made his heart ache, like it wanted to give up. He meant what he said to you. His heart beat for you.

He couldn’t help himself from caressing your soft cheek. You moaned a little, and slowly opened your eyes, immediately blessing him with a shy smile at the memory of what just happened.

He was contemplating something in his mind, and like the wizard that you were, you could see it. You asked him what he was thinking about. He pulled you into his arms, kissing your temple.

“I’m thinking… I like having you here in my bed. I’m thinking… maybe it’s time Ellie has her own room… so I can hold her Mama close when I sleep.”

You laughed, calling him a greedy man. He has to share you with Ellie, she needed you. He responded by holding you tighter, telling you he needed you too. And if that made him a greedy man, so be it.

His tummy rumbled. You gave him a kiss and immediately got up, taking your dress off the floor to go make him something to eat. It’s almost dinner time, you told him, as he held your hand, not wanting you to go. And maybe we should go get Ellie.

“Nope,” he said, getting up, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling you close, pressing his face to your naked tummy, breathing your scent in deeply, hugging you tight as if you would float away if he let go. “She’ll be fine with Liv and Will. I’m having you all to myself tonight.”

You had to pry yourself off him when his tummy rumbled again, telling him he needed to let you go so you could make him something to eat. You needed to wash before that. You’re all sticky. So was he.

He followed you into the living room, where he proceeded to wash you right there in the kitchen, immediately kissing every single part he had just wiped clean. When he got to washing your lady, he gave up on the cleaning altogether and proceeded to carry you back into bed, telling you he could just eat bread tonight, before taking you again and again, making up for lost time.

The two of you ended up eating in bed, your body hugging his, your legs across his lap, feeding plain ol’ bread and cheese to one another, kissing each other in between bites.

Unfortunately, story time was cancelled for the night. But you definitely did not hear him complain.

**********

You and the ladies were headed to town the next day, Ellie strapped to your chest. You sent Joel two jars of water, telling him you might be a bit late back, urgent business in town. He nodded, pulling you in for a kiss, which lingered a bit too long, earning him some cheeky remarks from his brothers. He let you go with a blush on his neck, his hand immediately rising up to rub it off. He kissed Ellie on the cheeks, before giving you another one for good measure, telling you he loved you, standing where he was until you and the ladies disappeared from his sight.

Just as Joel got teased for the happenings of yesterday, you were not immune either. The ladies had heard what happened from their husbands, and you had to endure your sisters’ teasing too. They were happy for you, telling you that there was nothing you couldn’t come to them for, should you face any problems. We are sisters now, Liv said, family, we look out for one another. And, you know, they say that if you have knowledge, you should impart it to your sisters, Diana said, winking at you. Sharing is caring after all.

That got everyone laughing like crazy, even Ellie was laughing. Clever girl.

It was then you realized, you have a family here. You were not alone. Not anymore.

The five Miller ladies arrived in town to what could only be described as a stand-off. A dishevelled looking Esther was standing in the middle of the street, two very angry looking ladies facing her, throwing profanities so bad her way that you had to put your hands over Ellie’s ears. Much as the Miller ladies wanted to mind your own business, all of you couldn’t help but watch. Hell, the entire town was, why shouldn’t you?

Tess waved all of you over, even she was standing there, watching her mother be confronted by these ladies.

“The wives of the registrar and the bank officer,” Tess told all of you. “Apparently, my mother has been very busy.”

Ah… that’s how she found out Ellie wasn’t yours, and that’s why she called Joel well-off. She had inside information.

How ironic, the way she kept badmouthing Rose, only for her to do it herself.

A band of men rode into town from the far end of the street. Esther’s attention was distracted, and upon seeing the men, she panicked, and immediately ran off, leaving the two angry ladies screaming at her fast-disappearing figure. Tess looked at the approaching men, took a deep breath, and asked if you ladies had time for a quick snack with her? No worries, she said, she had a feeling her mother won’t be bothering you ever again.

All of you entered the tavern, where Max was bartending, just as the men rode past, chasing after Esther. He quickly greeted everyone, Tess introducing him to Liv and Diana, who very excitedly said hello to this man who made Tess so happy.

Turned out, Esther had a gambling problem. Those men, who passed by the town every now and again, had won big against her, and she promised them she would pay the next time they were in town, which happened to be today. The income from the tavern used to go missing, Tess said, and when she figured out what was happening, Tess opened a bank account in her own name, depositing the daily earnings in it to stop Esther from gambling it all away. Tess basically took over, paying her mother a stipend for working there. It was her father’s tavern, after all.

Tess figured that Esther started sleeping with the bank officer to gain access to her account, but the man, as horny as he was, didn’t actually have the authority to do that. She figured that’s why Esther was so persistent on marrying Tess off to Joel. It had always been money oriented. At first, he was just some good-looking man with seed money for building a new house, but when she found out he was married, she was going to give that dream up. Until she found out about the money he had deposited into his and his new wife’s bank account. She was just looking for someone to give her the money to pay off her debts.

“But… the way those men rode after her just then, I have a feeling we won’t be seeing much of her any time soon,” Tess said.

And Tess turned out to be right. She woke up the next day to her mother’s possessions gone from her room. Rumour had it she was last seen leaving Jackson on a wagon train, off to bring her contemptuous heart and less than charming personality to become someone else’s problem.

Tess then asked if everything was alright with Joel. The ladies began snickering, and Tess quickly sent Max away, leaning on the table to hear more, a sly, teasing smile on her face. She was happy for you and Joel and was even happier when Maria told her that the Miller men had agreed to help Max on his build.

Tess then said she’s feeling generous today, come back after your shopping and she will send you home with a delicious meal. Tommy’s birthday dinner was about to have some delicious food on the table.

**********

Rose was sitting at her desk in her foyer of the establishment, looking at receipts from the night before, when the front doors slammed shut, followed by the sounds of the bolts being locked in. She looked up, panic filling her chest when she saw who it was, standing just on the inside of the now locked front door, a basket in hand, a stern look on her face.

You.

Your eyes locked on hers as you took steady, confident steps towards her.

“Elena,” she stuttered, standing up, “You need to know your husband did nothing wrong. He never touched me, nor I, him. Please, you have to believe me.”

“Do I look stupid to you?”

“Elena, I swear on my life, on my girls’ lives, he never touched me.”

“But you touched him.”

For someone so soft spoken and average sized, you could definitely command the room and make Rose feel like a child.

“What? No, I didn’t! He sat right there,” her panicked, flailing hand pointing at the chair opposite her desk, “and I sat right here,” placing her hand on the chair she had just vacated, patting it unnecessarily several times, trying to convince you. “Look, look,” she took a piece of paper from under her desk, placing it face side up so you could see. “I drew him the female parts, showed him where things were, told him how he could… make things feel good… that’s all. Our clothes stayed on. No touching!”

You glanced at the paper and did a double take. Oh wow. That’s… wow… huh… Rose could draw. There was no question in your mind that she knew the lady part on a very intimate level.

Wait, snap out of it. You came here for a reason.

“You kissed him, Rose, out on the streets, for everyone to see.”

Realization dawned on Rose’s face.

“Oh… that… right. I’m sorry about that, Elena. I didn’t mean to, exactly. It’s just, he was so flustered and shy and nervous, he was shaking the entire time I spoke to him. He could hardly look at the drawing without blushing. I guess, I did that to calm him down. It was just a quick peck on his cheek. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

You advanced on her, your steps slow, deliberate. You could see her visibly swallow, torn between running away or surrendering herself to her fate, quite aware that she had crossed a line, albeit without meaning any harm. You stopped two inches from her, staring her right in the eyes. She didn’t have the courage to look away, nervousness clear on her beautiful face.

“If you ever place your lips anywhere near my husband’s person again, Rose, I will rip all your skin off and use it to make purses, do you understand?”

She was stunned. Fear clearly written across her face.

“Do. You. Understand?”

“Yes! Yes, yes. Of course. Yes.”

“Good. Now, stand here,” you pointed to the open space just behind you, placing your basket on her desk.

“Elena, what are you going to do to me?”

Your eyes snapped at her so fast she immediately took her place at the spot you pointed at.

“Stand straight, arms out.”

“Why…”

“JUST. DO IT!”

Her body immediately went straight, arms shot out to her sides. You went to your basket, your hand reached in and with much drama, pulled out… a measuring rope.

Rose flinched, her hands covering her face, her body rolled back to avoid whatever imaginary thing she had thought you were going to throw at her. But when nothing came, she peeked through her fingers, looking at you questioningly.

“Stand straight, as you did just now. I need to measure you,” your face now relaxed, a small teasing smile on your lips, walking towards her, all intimidation a thing of the past.

“Why?”

“I’m making you a dress, as a… thank you. You know, for… imparting your… expertise... to my husband.” There was honesty and earnestness in your eyes.

She visibly relaxed, releasing a long-held breath. “You don’t have to do this, he fixed some things around here for free as payment.”

“I want to. Please hold your hands out.”

She crossed her arms instead. “So… did he… perform well?”

You failed miserably at hiding your blushing smile. “You are a very good teacher.”

She laughed with joy, clasping her hands together, a small jump accompanying it, her face looking proud and touched at the same time. “Good to know.” She genuinely looked happy for you. “You know, as badly as people want to see women like me, I have never actually deliberately wrecked a marriage. I don’t wish that on anyone.”

“I know.”

“And your husband is so in love with you. He wouldn’t have asked me if he wasn’t. He’s the first man to actually ask me to teach him something, made me feel as if my profession has its benefits after all. In my books, Joel Miller is an honourable, upstanding man, you’re lucky to have him as your husband.”

“I know.”

She looked at you for a while, contemplating, “You’re really making me a dress? I wanted to order one, but I heard the waiting list is months long.”

“I’m really making you a dress. Right away. No waiting. We go to the material store right after I take your measurements. My treat.”

“You know,” she said, a cheeky smile on her face, “If you throw in a bonnet to go with that dress, I may have something to teach you, as well.”

You didn’t have to think. Your hands immediately wrapped the measuring rope around her head to get its circumference.

“Deal.”

And that was how Joel Miller found himself losing his mind, pressed up against his front door that night, trousers down around his shaking legs, breath ragged, one of his hands scrambling for purchase on the wooden surface so hard he was in danger of losing a couple of nails, his other one knuckled up, his teeth biting hard into it, worried that he might wake his BabyGirl with the screams that were threatening to escape him, his beautiful, devoted, beloved wife down on her knees in front of him, showing him what she learnt that day.

If he dies today, Joel Miller will die a happy man.

After she milked him dry, he stood there, weak in the knees, face disbelieving, breath heavy, looking down at his wife’s proud, elated face.

“Did you like it?” she asked him shyly.

Did he like it? Dear Lord, this woman was insane to even ask that question.

He responded by picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder, carrying a squealing wife into their now shared bedroom, placing her on the bed, telling her it was his turn.

**********

Two years later, Ellie was toddling along, her Uncle Benny holding her hand on one side, her cousin Marcus on the other. Her Uncle Will was trying to keep her cousins Daniel and Lucy from scaring the chickens. Uncle Tommy was sitting with her Papa.

Joel had his head in his hands, fingers grasping his own hair. He was scared, which, in retrospect, was extremely silly. He was in a war. He watched his buddies get shot, and died right in front of him, heard bullets whizzing past his head, and still, this was the most scared he had ever been in his life.

Your piercing scream filled the air. Joel stood up, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to go to you. Tommy stopped him, telling him there was nothing he could do. Let the ladies do their job, the midwife was here, you would be fine.

Joel paced pack and forth in front of his house, his heart beating fast. His wife was hurting. He had promised you he would never cause you pain again, and here you were, in so much pain, probably the worst pain known to men, giving birth to his child. His child with you. He couldn’t shake the guilty feeling out of his head. He did this to you.

He stood by and watched as you carried his baby in your belly, getting so sick at the beginning, hardly able to keep anything down, while still trying to take care of him and Ellie. You were stubborn, he had discovered, insisting on doing the work as usual. He had to go to work, he had a job to do, you had told him one morning when he was reluctant to go to another build since you were so sick. The ladies will come help, you told him. Go, husband, I will be fine.

He always came home to a clean house, his daughter healthy, happy, looked after and fed, his meals cooked, his laundry washed, hung and dried, folded neatly and stashed away in the armoire he had built for you. And still, you kept him company, read to him at night, letting him rest his head on your belly, treating him in ways he didn’t think he deserved.

And now, you were trying to push a baby out of your person. His baby. And you had to endure so much pain to do it. If he could take the pain away from you, he would do so in a heartbeat. But right now, he felt helpless, useless.

When you screamed again, he ran into the house, ignoring his brothers’ calls, going straight into the bedroom. The ladies yelled at him, telling him to leave, but he didn’t care. He went to you, got behind you and held you safely in his arms, letting you squeeze the bones out of his fingers, kissing your head over and over, telling you that you were doing so well, you were doing good, you were so strong, he loved you so much.

After what felt like a lifetime of pain, you and your husband were rewarded by the cries of your new baby daughter. Ellie has a sister. Joel never thought he could cry this much from happiness.

That night, after everyone left, you laid in bed with your husband, daughter and newborn, Joel asking Ellie to choose a name for her sister. The two of you were planning to list a few of your favourite girl names for her to choose from. You started with your mother’s name, which, by happenstance, was also Joel’s mother’s name, only spelled differently.

Ellie immediately kissed her baby sister.

“Hi Sarah.”

**********

After Joel had tucked Ellie in, he laid next to you, careful not to hurt you while he held you in his arms, thanking you over and over for Sarah, for Ellie, for all of it. He told you he was sorry you had to go through so much pain, promising you that this would be the only time you would have to go through that, his heart couldn’t take you going through it again.

That was the only promise to you he had ever broken.

Not two years later, he was making the same promise one more time, your son Jake in his arms, kissing you over and over, thanking you for blessing him like this.

Thankfully for you, he never broke that promise again.

Epilogue

#joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction

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komotionlessqueenmm · 9 months ago

Text

Imagine # 1,060

Picture NOT mine.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW

Reading time (Roughly) - 12 minutes

This one was actually a request, which I don't typically do, but sometimes I simply can't resist!

Tag(s) - @rishdrago

With a tired sigh (Y/n) sat the last of her groceries onto the counter in her kitchen. It was another long day at work, with another grueling case coming to a close. While she loves her job, sometimes it really takes a toll on her. But now at home all she needs to worry about is putting away her groceries, and making a quick dinner. Easy enough. If it wasn't for the sound of a floorboard creaking in the hallway that set her into fight or flight mode.

Spinning on her heel in an instant, she unholstered her pistol and aimed at the doorway to the hallway. "You really messed up you know, but if you know what's good for you, you'll come into the light nice and slow. Otherwise you're gonna leave my house in an ambulance, or a body bag." (Y/n) called out to the would be intruder, bracing herself for a potential firefight. But when the intruder rounded the corner, and came into sight, she nearly dropped her gun. "Frank?" She breathed out in a whisper, her arms falling to her sides. "Frank's dead." He muttered mournfully. "You look pretty fucking alive to me." She sassed as she holstered her pistol, knowing deep down that she could still trust Frank with her life.

The behemoth of a man simply shrugged his shoulders, taking a small first step into the room, as if he was testing the water. "What are you doing here?" She asked turning back to her groceries, while letting him come into the room at his own pace. "I killed Gianni Franco." He stated as he walked up to the other side of the counter, leaving the space between them to prove he meant her no harm. "Trust me Frank, I am well aware of that. You do realize I'm still a detective right? And I'm still friends with Jake you know, so I'm the one he goes to, to vent about you." She glanced his way, trying to get a read of his reaction to her words.

He seemed unbothered, which really didn't surprise her. "I'm sorry." Now that surprised her. Setting the box of noodles down, she turned her full attention to Frank. "Why are you apologizing to me? I'm not the one you should apologize to." She pointed out, but Frank didn't seem bothered, as he casually scratched at the scruff on his face. "Frank why are you here?" She asked now standing across from him at the counter, looking into his eyes which once swirled with so much life. "I don't know... I'm not exactly sure what to do now." He admitted.

"Jake would tell you to turn yourself in." (Y/n) mused with a small smile, her words making him chuckle softly under his breath, a sound she had missed more than she ever realized until now. "That's why I came to you." He admitted, now leaning against the counter. "I knew you wouldn't arrest me on the spot like Jake, and I could just talk to you." Frank admitted with a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Well that's where me and Jake are different, I actually believe you're doing the world good by killing those guys. People like that have to much money and power for us to touch, and we could use a vigilante to even out the odds." She hummed as she grabbed a beer from the fridge, sliding it across the counter to Frank, who took it with a small mutter of thanks. "I knew you'd feel that way." He said before sipping his beer. "Then why didn't you come to me sooner?" She asked as she leaned again the counter.

"Because I don't want you trying to join me." He stated matter-of-factly, making (Y/n) chuckle softly. "That's fair I guess, but what's changed? Why come to me now?" She pried, hoping he would open up to her. "I had a dream about you last night." His words stuck a cord in (Y/n)'s heart, one she didn't realize was still there until now. "A dream?" She played off her nerves like a natural, making her glad she was trained to hide her true emotions, in order to effectively interrogate suspects.

"It started as a nightmare, I was reliving their deaths." She knew he was referring to his family, so she didn't pry for clarification, knowing it only hurt him to talk about them. "But before I could wake up, you appeared from the shadows. You didn't say anything, you just..." He trailed off as he stared at his beer. "You just pulled me into a hug, and held me while I cried for them." (Y/n)'s heart broke at his admittance, she knew he hated showing vulnerably before he lost his family, let alone now that he's The Punisher.

"It made me realize how much I've missed you, and I also realized I can't keep doing this alone, I can't keep being alone." He looked up to her, his eyes ever so glossy. "I know Julie would want me to move on, to come to terms with what happened. But I couldn't do that while the Franco's were still alive and free." He sipped his beer. "But now... Now I need help getting through this, and you're the only one that can help me (Y/n)." Frank wanted to hold her hand as he spoke, but he resisted the urge.

"I'll always be here for you Frank." She assured him, her words pulling a genuine smile from him. "How about I make us some dinner, and we can figure out where to go from there." She offered, smiling when he nodded in agreement. "You should stay here tonight, get a shower and have some normalcy for a change." She added. "Are you trying to say I smell bad?" He asked with a playful smirk.

"Frank dear I've been holding my breath this entire time." (Y/n) joked, making him roll his eyes, despite his smile. "Still a smartass I see." He huffed. "You wouldn't have it any other way." She sassed before pointing to the hallway. "You still remember where the guestroom is." She added, smiling when he nodded and walked off to take a shower while she cooked dinner.

"Well what are you planning on doing now that you've dealt with the Franco family?" (Y/n) asked before she finished off the last bite of her dinner. "There are still people who are not punished by the justice system." Frank stated having finished his dinner long before she had. "Are you planning on doing to them what you did to the Franco's?" She asked. "Only to those who deserve it." Frank clarified, setting (Y/n)'s mind at ease.

"I'm glad you've come to me Frank, but I'm unbelievably exhausted, and I need to get some sleep." She rose from her seat, picking up her plate, and moving to grab his. Frank took her plate, and grabbed his own. "I'll deal with the dishes, go to bed, we can talk more in the morning." He insisted. "Okay thank you." She leaned over and pecked his temple like she used to as a quick thanks. "Oh and I forgot to ask, you didn't break any windows to get in did you?" She asked.

"No don't worry, I just picked the lock on the back door." He shrugged casually. "You still have that spare key I gave you don't you?" She arched a brow at him, and his faint smile gave him away. "Goodnight Frank." She called as she walked away into the hall. "Goodnight (Y/n)." He called back to her. When (Y/n) reached her bedroom, she began shedding off her clothes, in desperate need of a warm shower before going to bed.

As the water washed over her sore muscles, (Y/n)'s mind drifted to Frank. She'd been so torn up when he was declared dead, and mourned for him and his family for many months. They were a big part of her life, they were family to her. Even though deep down (Y/n) had loved Frank in a deeper more heart wrenching way. She knew it wasn't right, she knew that then, and even now she feels guilty for it.

She never acted on it, and never intended on trying to take him as her own. He was happy and he deserved the love he already had with Julie. Now things are different, but it still doesn't feel right, even if it's been over a year since she passed. He clearly still loved her, and (Y/n) wasn't going to make a fool of herself, and potentially push him away and loose him again. Still she couldn't deny the way her heart fluttered at the sight of him again, so much more gruff and rugged.

And knowing that he trusted her enough to come to her made her head spin. By the time she finished her shower, her eyes grew heavy with sleep. Her mind was still stuck on Frank, even as she crawled between the sheets. She wondered idly if he would still be here in the morning, or if he'd ever come back when he did leave. As she began drifting to sleep, she heard the sound of the guestroom door opening and closing. Telling her he was still here, and most likely would still be come morning.

(Y/n)'s sleep was dreamless and peaceful, which was better than she'd had in weeks. While Frank's dreams were chaotic and filled with memories that still hurt him oh so deeply. He dreamt of his children, of his wife, of the look of betrayal and hurt on Jakes face. Then he dreamt of (Y/n), and her never ending acceptance of the choices he's made. He felt at ease while he dreamt of her, his tense muscles relaxing as he dreamt of walking with her beside a lake.

She always had a way of putting him at ease, just by simply being there and listening to him vent whenever he needed it. He knew she meant more to him than just a friend, but he much like her, had never intended on exploring those feelings. But now after everything, despite knowing he's putting her in danger by coming around, Frank knows he needs her. He needs her help more than ever, and he knows deep down that Julie would understand.

When morning came Frank woke up to the smell of breakfast. Something he's missed more than he realized until now. In a bit of a groggy daze Frank wondered into the kitchen, dressed in the sleep clothes he found in the closet in the guestroom. "Mornin' bud." (Y/n) mused as she pushed a fresh cup of coffee his way. "Morning." He muttered as he slipped at the hot brew, slightly surprised she remembered how he likes his coffee.

"You want some breakfast?" She asked as she pulled two plates from the cupboard. "Please." He nodded his head in agreement. "Good because I made plenty." She mused with a smile, as she placed a plate in front of him. "I'm glad you're still here and you didn't slip away in the night." She added sincerely. "I half expected that last night would be the last time I'd ever see you." Her words cut him deeper than he would have expected, but he understood where she was coming from.

"Like I said, I need your help." Frank said earnestly. "Well then, what's the plan?" She asked as she sat beside him with her own plate. "I don't really have a plan, but for now I think we'll just take it one day at a time, and figure it all out." He shrugged. "Wow the Frank Castle doesn't have a plan, that's a first." (Y/n) joked, making him chuckle. "So are you planning on staying here?" She asked a few moments later. "No I don't want to put you at risk of being caught hiding a fugitive." He shook his head.

"I appreciate that." She hummed softly, having worried a bit about that last night. "I think it'll be best if I just come in the evenings when I need... Well a shoulder to lean on I guess." He said, picking at his food a little. "And when you need patched up I imagine." She added, trying to lighten the mood a bit, and Frank agreed with a small chuckle. "Yeah I'm sure I probably will come to you when I need patched up." He smiled at her before going back to eating his breakfast. "I'll be sure to stock up on some supplies." (Y/n) mused more to herself, than to Frank.

(Y/n)'s pager went off with a shrill beeping, signaling that it was time to get to work. Her partner letting her know they already had a new case to work on. "Well that's my queue, I've gotta get going. I'll see you later Frank, don't worry about the dishes, I'll deal with that when I get home." (Y/n) moved back into the kitchen, placing her half empty plate into the sink for now. "Hey (Y/n)." Frank called to her before she could rush off. "Yeah?" She asked, turning her attention to him. "Thank you, for everything." He stood from his seat, and crossed the room, pulling her into a hug. "You're welcome Frank." She hummed as she hugged him back, feeling as though she's already made a difference in his chaotic life.

Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️

(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)

I honestly couldn't think of a better way of ending this one, but I hope it was satisfactory either way. I'm a little rusty, as I haven't consistently written in ages, so I apologize if it didn't turn out as good as you hoped. (゜-゜)

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nburkhardt · 2 years ago

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Somebody Loves You, You Got A Friend. (Part 8)

Other parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Seeing as all my current WIPs are making me mad, I nearly forgot about this. Since it’s already written out and in my notes app, I thought I should post it lol.

Quick note: a few POV changes happen, there’s a bit of plot and I kinda bash Nancy a bit. (picks up right after part 7)

Gareth watches as Eddie falls asleep and he only knows because of how relaxed his friend looks and he pulls his eyes away to find the freshmen looking so confused.

They don’t ask anything, thankfully, but they’re not at all sneaky with their glances towards Eddie. Or the completely silent conversation they have with each other.

He just hopes whatever it’s about doesn’t involve Eddie.

Eddie’s dragging the rest of the day and Gareth is about ready to explode at how dumb his friend is being, “dude, you should’ve stayed home”

“I had to take tests, that effects my final grades” he says, “I- Ms. Click fucking hates me dude”

And unfortunately, his friend is right and he has to watch as he suffers finding his work and everything else. The rest of the day is pretty boring, the only weird thing was catching Nancy Wheeler eye Eddie during their shared class. He only noticed because he’s trying and failing at not laughing at Eddie, who’s nodding off during Mr. Smith’s lecture.

Once the final bell rings, he’s trying to find Eddie since their last class isn’t shared.

He turns the corner and nearly falls on his ass, “fuck” he mumbles and looks to see the person he ran into, “dude my bad.”

Jonathan Byers nods and helps him up, “sorry, I wasn’t paying attention either”

He’s about to say something else, when he hears an all too familiar laugh. Looking around he finds Eddie with a nasty glare aimed at Nancy Wheeler, he looks at Jonathan and wordlessly they both move towards the other two.

“I don’t fucking sell shit anymore, Wheeler and it wouldn’t be any of your business if I did!”

She crossed her arms and glares up at Eddie, “but you did sell! And it is my business!”

He can just see Eddie’s anger, before anything else happens, he steps closer to his friend and quickly grabs his arm, “Eddie let’s go, cool off before you get home, yeah?”

Eddie doesn’t answer, just glares at Nancy, “it’s not your business, he told you to stay away! That means, stay away from me too.”

He doesn’t say more, simply because Gareth punches his arm and leads him back out, “dude what the fuck?”

Eddie shakes his head and makes a beeline to the van, “Nancy is a bitch, dude.”

“I noticed, who were you talking about?”

“Stevie. Nancy believes she can get him to help her with some shit. Been like this for a year now, when Stevie and I were only just starting out with our friendship” Eddie explains with a glare aimed at nothing and his hands clutching and unclutching from frustration, “When he was only a few months pregnant, there was one morning where his mom answered the door to find her standing there and wanted her to wake him up to fucking talk about whatever”

That’s, really fucking confusing to Gareth. He looks towards the school and sees Jonathan and Nancy walk out with their brothers, “didn’t Nancy break up with Steve?”

Eddie let out a near hysterical laugh, a cigarette dangling from his mouth now, “She nearly fucking broke him, actually.”

“What?”

Eddie jumps into the drivers seat, pointing a finger to his passenger seat and he doesn’t need to be told twice. Once inside the van and Eddie starts it up, “Stevie told me that she blamed him for Barb’s death and his mom told me about how she found him sobbing about it. He said Nancy called him bullshit, that their whole relationship was bullshit.”

“Fuck dude”

He’ll never be able to look at Nancy the same, “and now she’s pushing you to what?”

Eddie scruffs and turns down his street, “Fuck, I don’t even know. She came up to me demanding to know if I knew why Stevie left school or where he is, then when I wouldn’t answer, tried saying I’m a bad influence”

He laughed, “I mean you are but not like that”

“Fuck you dude” he smiles and shakes his head, “I haven’t sold anything since I found about Ellie. Wayne pulled me aside after we told him, to tell me that I needed to stop- I mean, I already was thinking it.” He shrugs, “I don’t know why Nancy would think like that”

Gareth doesn’t either and he tells this to Eddie, the van comes to a stop in front of his home, “I don’t know either, she sounds like she’s a little obsessed with Steve.”

“I know and it’s weird, right?”

The Next Day

Eddie is woken up by Eleanor’s cry and he groans, he feels Steve stir next to him and he shushes him, “stay, I’ll grab her” he gets a hum in return and he sits up before dragging himself over to her crib.

She’s kicking her legs and wiggling trying to get out of the blanket, “hey baby” he whispers to catch her attention, she blinks up at him and whines.

Smiling, he lifts her up and rocks her, “come on, cranky.” He looks over and sees Steve smiling at him, it makes his heart beat a little faster.

Steve moves up a bit and pulls his shirt off, before he can even sit down next to him. Eleanor is no longer crying, thankfully, but Steve still makes grabby hands at him.

Laughing, he hands her over and then pulls the covers back over them before wrapping his arm around Steve. They sit in silence as Eleanor drinks and Steve drops his head onto his shoulder, “I guess it’s another long day”

Laughing softly he pressed a kiss to his head, “want me to stay home?”

“Maybe? She was so fussy yesterday, Eds.” He whispers, a hand patting her back, “even mom couldn’t get her to settle”

Later on Janet finds all three of them in bed asleep, Eleanor in Steve’s arms and Steve against Eddie. She shakes her head before going over and shaking Eddie, “Honey, don’t you have school today?”

He blinks back sleep and looks up to find her standing there, “nah, I’m skipping today. Gotta help Stevie”

She smiles, nodding before placing a kiss on their foreheads, “I’ll call the school, have one of your friends pick up your schoolwork later, okay?”

He nods and she smiles before walking out of the room and he looks down to find Steve still asleep with Eleanor snuggled against him. Sighing, he relaxes back down and decides they don’t need to get up anytime soon.

Steve is humming along to the mixtape Eddie put on to fill the kitchen as they make breakfast/lunch.

It’s currently noon and Eleanor is having tummy time in the living room with Eddie, while he’s busy making breakfast sandwiches. They slept in until nearly eleven and when they made their way downstairs, Steve found a note from his mom telling them she had several appointments today.

He can hear Eddie encouraging Eleanor to move around as he makes his way towards them with their food, when the doorbell rings. Confused, he sets the plates down and goes to the front door and through the peephole finds Nancy and Jonathan.

Even more confused and a little frustrated, he opens the door with, “Isn’t today a school day? Why are you guys here?”

They both look shocked to see him, which is weird since they’re the one’s knocking on his door.

“I’ve been trying to find you!” Nancy starts with and there’s her angry determination, “you’ve been locked up in your house?!”

Jonathan just looks uncomfortable.

Raising an eyebrow at her, he shakes his head, “uh, yes? I live here. Just because we don’t run into each other doesn’t mean I left town. Just my asshole father, now you should go back to school. Isn’t this your senior year?”

“Shouldn’t you be there with us?”

Rolling his eyes, he leans against the wall. Giving the impression of indifference, “I graduated earlier this year, through a different school. Not that it concerns you, I’ve told you before, Nancy. I’m not your boyfriend, and I’m definitely not your friend.” He then looks At Jonathan then back at her, “he’s your boyfriend, now leave me alone. Leave Eddie alone while you’re at it”

Nancy narrows her eyes at him and he can just barely smell the annoyance in the air from her scent, “So you are still friends with him? Is he the reason you dropped out? Why you won’t help with the upside down?”

“I have much more important things in life,” he thinks of carrying Eleanor for nine months, holding her and feeding her, thinks of being with Eddie and the alpha holding him like he’s the whole world, “like I said before, I was there to apologize. I stepped in when you needed help, but afterwards? We were told it was over. Will was found and is fine and safe. Shouldn’t you guys be over this?”

Neither person in front of him can give him an answer because he hears Eddie shout, “Oh Stevie! The little missy and I miss you!”

He sees the confusion on their faces and before they can ask, he slams the door in their faces. Which if he’s being honest, he should’ve done sooner. He locks the door and turns around to the ones that actually deserve his attention.

He knows, Nancy won’t give up though.

Yikes I completely forgot how I wrote Nancy in this 🫣 oops. Please know I DO love her but she’s just a stubborn person and can’t understand that Steve’s not involved and refuses to be involved.

I can’t believe I added plot to this lol anyway, we’ll get to more slice of life again 🥰

If you see any typos or mistakes, let me know!! Also if you have any ideas that you’d like to see, send me an ask or message! Same goes for if you want to be added to the tag list!

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @zerokrox-blog @callme-keys @maya-custodios-dionach @rajumat @yellowdevilkitten @munsonfamilyband @steddierthings @tartarusfairy @mx-jinxous @zombiethingy @lunaticmarunatic @carlyv @thelittleclare @estrellami-1 @epiclazershark @bookworm0690 @forest-fogg @flustratedcas @p0lybl4nkk @tiny-enthusiast @a-gae-af-racoon @blackpanzy @marvelmwah @malicia62 @solliesolesito

#steddie #steddie fic #omegaverse #a/b/o fic #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #Steve x eddie #nburkhardt writes #steddie au #we’ll get The Party meeting steddie and their baby soooooon

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girlboybug · 1 year ago

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trash magic

"boy, you wanna hold me down and tell me that you love me?"

or the one where you get a tattoo for joel and he shows you just how much he appreciates it.

what’s playing 🎧 trash magic by lana del rey

pairing : joel miller x reader

word count : 2k

*unedited*

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, joel is sooo super turned on by your tattoo, size kink, overstimulation, mentions of unspecified age gap, unprotected sex, tit-fucking, lots of heavy petting/groping, praise and hints of degrading, joel is a dirty depraved man muahaha

TRIGGER WARNINGS : uhh none come to mind but if there’s something that is triggering plz let me know. otherwise enjoy <3

a/n : hi guys i’m so sorry it took me FOREVER to update, i just wanted to post smth small bc i felt bad abt my lack of presence on here. i wanna say thank u so much for the love and support on my work it means the absolute WORLD to me. life has just been so draining and writing has fallen to the back burner and i HATE it but here, i hope this slightly makes up for it, i promise i have a lot in store!!

it had been just a little over a month. a little over a month without joel was time spent cruelly—longingly. and in all honesty, most people in jackson wondered why you were so distraught over his lack of presence, unable to comprehend why a young, pretty girl spent all her time trailing behind a stone-faced old man. but he was your stone-faced old man. his hard glare, monotone responses and hands that were perpetually stuck in fists, were all aspects you loved about him, despite the fact that they seemed to act as a wall to block everyone out. but what people didn’t realize was that those walls came right back down the second it came to you.

you figured their judgment lied in the point of view that they had of him. they only saw cold joel, unfriendly joel who had zero time for anyone except ellie and, maybe you. but they didn't see the way he was when you were alone. they didn’t see the way his face would drop all its coldness when he'd look at you, his fists following in suit and unraveling into gentle hands that would tighten around your jaw to pull you up for a kiss. instead, all they saw was a hardened old man leading on some girl young enough to be his daughter.

and even if he was, you didn't care. it was hard to care about anything when he'd press his mouth over yours, enveloping you in and cleansing you of everything you've ever worried about the second his tongue pushed past your lips. you replayed the way his scruff felt against your skin, your bare tummy…your inner thighs. you squirmed around in the booth at the tipsy bison, ignoring the comments about how you're going to regret getting the tattoo that you did, how joel is nice and all, but he's the last guy you should be getting a tattoo for.

you didn’t fucking care, the only thing that you did care about was how he would feel about it. and god, you hoped he liked it. you are definitely not one to handle pain all that well, and with the limited supplies cat had after tattooing ellie, you were extra nervous of all that could go wrong. but you missed joel so much, you needed something, anything, that felt like a piece of him was always with you.

the moth sticker on the neck of his guitar always did catch your eye, and when he was gone, you’d cradle his guitar, hold it the way he would and simply stare at the sticker. you imagined him the day he stuck it on, the way he’d look down at it, and maybe even smile to himself. it made your heart just about ache at the image.

you grew antsy to show joel the more you thought about it, but maintained what little patience you had left. you decided to keep it a surprise until you both got home, feeling as though the reveal was something that deserved to be private for you two alone.

—

“i have a surprise for you.” you whispered excitedly, clambering into his lap. he smiled up at you, pushing his glasses into his hair and shutting his book. his eyes fell to your fingers that slowly took their time unbuttoning each little button on the flannel that…suspiciously looks a whole lot like the one that went missing from his side of the closet.

“that so?” he hummed in that low gruff voice of his, a hot feeling stirring in his lower stomach as he watched the flannel begin to part the lower you went.

“mhm. i hope you like it.” you murmured, swallowing hard when you pulled the flannel open. his eyes lingered on yours for a moment before traveling down to the valley of your breasts, gasping when he saw a moth decorating your skin.

“are you out your goddamn mind?” joel exhaled in disbelief, tracing his fingers over the moth splayed across your sternum.

your hands gripped the fabric of your flannel, fingernail rolling over the button with nerves. “are you…are you mad?” you unintentionally whimpered, and he shook his head, sitting up with you in his lap, leaning forward and pulling his glasses back down to look at it better. “no baby no but, i…i coulda given you the sticker i had,” he laughed, unable to peel his eyes off of the tattoo. you rolled your eyes jokingly but in the back of your mind, fear was starting to settle in.

did he hate it?

“do you like it?” you asked quietly, praying he said yes. “oh, baby i love it,” he uttered heavily, bringing his stare from your chest up to your face. he pulled you by your chin, smile still on his lips while he kissed you. you cupped his face, thumbs circling around the stubble on his jaw, a giddy feeling beginning to bubble in your tummy.

“did it hurt?” he questioned with his lips still close to yours. you nodded, pecking him. “yeah. but i just thought of you the whole time,” you admitted truthfully, smiling fondly down at him. he shook his head, kissing you again. he made a sound of sympathy, running his thumb along your bottom lip. he stared at your chest before something clicked in him, making him flip you on your back.

he wasn’t phased by the surprised yelp that left you, instead he was focused on stopping your hands from trying to hide your bare chest with the flannel. “unh unh don’t cover up now, too pretty to be doin that,” he chastised lowly, devouring you with his eyes. you grew hot under him as he continued speaking. “looks so good on you…real good, wish i was there with ya while you got it done baby,” he groaned, hands groping your breasts, thumbs straying to caress the wings of the moth.

you whined hushedly, arching your back into his touch. “i do too but you were gone,” you formed something like a pout, pushing an upset finger into his chest. he tsked, holding your accusatory hand to kiss your palm. “i know, i know, already said m’sorry baby,” he murmured, taking advantage of the way you softened at his actions. he trailed kisses down your jaw, murmuring more apologies for his absences. his words were enough, and all you could do was just lean into him, taking every touch and kiss he gave you happily.

“can’t believe you did this,” he breathed out, pressing his growing bulge to your clothed core. you whined, sitting up on your elbows. your ankles lock around him eyeing him from under your eyelashes. “i just wanted to feel like you were always with me, i missed you so much joel,”

he breathed in sharply at your confessions, his cock twitching and heart racing. “oh baby,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead lovingly. “missed you too. thought about you all the time.” his hand rubbed your outer thigh making its way between your legs. “thought abt this,” he exhaled, feeling you buck down into his palm with a sweet little moan from your lips.

“missed it s’goddamn much, missed you the most though,” he muttered, the familiar twange in his voice sparking a smile across your face. he pushed your panties to the side, gathering your slick with the pads of his fingers, his cockhead weeping with precum when it registered just how wet you were with such small touches.

he pushed his middle finger in and wasted no time in fucking you with his digit just the way you liked. you cried out, gripping his wrist while he fucked into your little cunt with his finger, groaning to himself at how tight you felt.

he leaned down, kissing all over the tattoo, licking and nipping at your breasts while you tangled your fingers in his hair.

“joel—fuck, just, just—please fuck me,” you breathed out, the patience you’d been struggling to keep had finally ran out, and you couldn’t wait anymore, you needed to have him the way you’ve been craving all this time. “shit—alright, need it tha’ bad huh,” he grunted, pulling himself from out his boxers.

he held your waist with both large hands of his, pushing inside you, burying his face in your chest and groaning loudly at the way you grip him. you cried out, nails digging into his wide back, teeth grazing his shoulder while you tried to catch your breath.

the stretch burned and tingled, rippling through your skin and nerves in a way you hadn’t felt in so long. he pushed in and out of you slowly and gently, shaky little breaths that sounded obscene, fanned out over your lips from his parted mouth, and you breathed them all in, pulling him in closer.

his forehead rested on yours, kissing you while his hips grounded down into yours, taking his time to appreciate how fucking good you felt all around him. utterances of f-fuck, baby poured into your mouth from his, casting a warm sensation to spread across your cheeks.

he rocked into you, somehow going deeper with every thrust. knowing that he was filling you to the very brim sent him into a mindless delirium, and in return fastening the way he fucked you. gentleness morphed into rushed, desperation to feel you, every single inch and crevice and to make up for lost time.

you took him in, tightening your calves around his lower back, tugging at the back of his hair while his tongue lapped at your tits and sternum, losing his mind at the fact that you’ve marked yourself as his with this moth. your bold declaration of love and dedication to him turned him on in ways he couldn’t even begin to fathom and the more he thought about it, the harder his hips crashed down into yours.

“missed me so much you had to get something that reminded you of me tattooed on ya’,” he grunted, grabbing one of your legs and haphazardly throwing it over his shoulder, shuffling even closer to fuck you harder. you couldn’t even reply correctly, all you could do was tearfully babble, nodding stupidly.

“love you so much joel,” you hiccuped, entire body being nearly fucked into the headboard, tits bouncing mesmerizingly with each thrust joel sends into you.

“say it again,” he groaned, cock twitching at your open admissions. “i love you, love you love you so much,” you cried, leg beginning to tremble on top of his shoulder.

“‘love you too baby, love you so goddamn much,” he breathed out in a rasp, shuddering a heavy sigh when you tighten and pulse all around his cock.

he loved the way his hands just engulfed you, his hand almost covering the entirety of one of your breasts, palming your soft flesh. you were so easy to squeeze, to pick up and hold and fuck, and joel took full advantage of his strength and how palpable for him you were.

with ease he pulled you up along with him, still impaled on his fat cock, feeling a familiar cockiness spread in his chest when you whimpered at the feeling of him so far inside of you.

he rested on his haunches, keeping you upright with his hands gripping your hips tight, face falling into your chest once more, his beard tucking the valley of your breasts.

your bodies flowed into each other’s fluidly, hips rolling and meeting each and every thrust like clockwork, his hips coming up only to be met with yours crashing down into his. it was addicting, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, could barely even remember your own name, the only thing you could manage was fucking yourself onto joel.

“so deep,” you cried out through a series of whines and he laughed, bringing a big hand to your tummy, rubbing over where his cock bulged. you keened, lips trembling while you squeezed his shoulders. “i know baby i know,” he crooned, plastering an open mouth kiss onto you.

he slid a hand between your wet grinding bodies to rub circles over your soaked little clit, chuckling to himself when you choked on a sob at the contact. you shook like a leaf in his arms, his sweet little angel so close, he felt it in the way your cunt gripped his cock, and it filled him with pride knowing he was the only one who could unravel you like this.

“know you needa cum baby—you gonna ask me?” he growled in your mouth, biting your bottom lip testingly. you whimpered, arching your chest into his, a little pathetic nod following your actions. “s-sorry joel, please please let me cum, feels so good i-i dunno if i can hold it,” you whimpered, trying to fuck yourself on his cock.

the swirls from his fingers over your clit persisted and it made you vibrate in his hold, your impending orgasm making you lose what little control you had over your own body.

“c’mon baby give it to me, cum all over it,” he grunted gruffly, and you shook wildly, squeezing your eyes shut and collapsing in his arms while your orgasm reverberated all throughout your limbs

“joel—oh my—fuck!” you sobbed, bouncing on his cock while you rode out your orgasm, feeling milked dry as he rubbed your clit into over sensitivity.

“good baby, so fuckin’ good,” he drawled out lowly, patting your poor abused clit with his long fingers. “wanna do somethin’ for me?” he panted and you nodded eagerly.

“lie back for me,” he ordered and you obeyed, laying back down onto the pillows beneath you. he begrudgingly pulled out of your tight cunt, shushing you when you whimpered at the loss of him inside you.

he straddled you, feeling his cock ache in his rough palm when you stared up at him, resting on your elbows, cute tits perked and barely concealed from his flannel.

he shoved the material away from your flesh, jerking himself off before he put it between your tits. “push ‘em together f’me—ahh shit, y-yeah just like that—oh shit baby, keep lookin at me like that—“ he growled under his breath, fucking your tits with hard pistons from his hips.

“gonna cum, gonna cum on these cute fuckin’ tits baby,” he groaned, throwing his head back while you egged him on, whimpering and squeezing your thighs together at how he used your chest to cum, it was so hot seeing him fall apart on top of you, looking glorious and gorgeous even in such dirty circumstances.

you wrapped your lips around his leaking cockhead, the corners of your mouth peeking upwards with smugness at the way he gasped and shivered at your actions. “shit,” he groaned, his own orgasm taking over his body.

he came in your mouth, your tits still engulfing his shaft. he twitched on your tongue, whimpering to himself at the way you sucked on his tip. he pulled himself away from your plump lips, starting to soften from how sensitive he was.

he laid beside you, pulling you into his arms once more, feeling content and right with the world when you nestled into your rightful place on his chest.

“still in awe over you.” he murmured, running his fingertips up and down your arm. “you’ll get used to the tattoo soon,” you giggled and he shook his head. “meant you…you as a whole baby.” he whispered and you looked up at him, pupils dilating into hearts. “joel,” you uttered, leaning up to kiss him. “i love you,” you mumbled sleepily. he smiled, kissing your clammy forehead. “i love you too baby.”

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