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In Front of Me (1)
cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me âË
âč pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader âč genre: bestfriends to (?), angst, smut (R: 18+ mdni) âč wordcount: 40.6k (part 1) (part 2: here)
âč summary: jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time.
âč tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, unrequited love (for the most part), pining, toxic!wonwoo, toxic!reader, both in wonwoo and readers pov, questionable protagonists, mentions of other svt members, happy ending (?), emotionally constipated characters (wonwoo), flashbacks, slight seokmin x reader, a lot of emotions thrown everywhere. (content warnings under the cut)
âč note: this story was meant to be posted for wonwoos bday, but if you know anything about me by now, i never really stick to my self made deadlines lol. thank you to my cutieful, big brained beta readers: ⥠@junkissed @chocosvt and @sunniques ⥠everyone in @svthub and @highvern and @gyuswhore who helped me w this fic as well ! if u look closely this is pretty much just a sugar coated version of real life events lol... anyways i hope u enjoy and lmk what u think thru the replies and reblogs :) !
âč masterlist, fic playlist.
âč smut tags: no smut in this part :p âč warnings: alcohol, reader is downbad for wonwoo, stalking, slut-shaming, evasions of privacy, if i missed anything lmk! cuz ik i did i just can't think of what hehe :p
âč what i would like to note about this story before you read it: you're not meant to like these characters (for most of the story at least lol), they are flawed in many ways, thats the whole point of this story tbh. tmi--but this story is pretty much my free therapy lol. and i love a messy plot! wonwoo and reader are just two normal people in this story and i wanted to write something a little more raw than i'm used to. so just take what i say with a grain of salt before reading ⥠i still want you to enjoy this story because i poured my soul into it. so thank you for your support and kind asks and comments about the teaser!
prologue.Â
Despite your age, youâve never been in a serious relationship. There was always something holding you back, or rather, someone.Â
In all the years youâve known Wonwoo, youâve always thought maybe one day, he would look at you in a different light. Hoping that he could reciprocate the feelings youâve harboured for him since the eleventh grade.Â
He was the one who constantly moved out of relationships. You couldnât even count the amount of late-night calls where he asked you what his ânext stepâ should be. The doting best friend that you are, youâd gladly stay up all night trying to help him fix his girl problems.Â
âI just, I donât have feelings for her anymore. Is that wrong?â he asked you over the phone.Â
Tossing and turning in your bed you let out a deep sigh. One thing is always guaranteed with Wonwoo: in a relationship, he loses feelings quickly. No matter how much he likes the girl, no matter how obsessed or possessive he feels for them at the beginning of it all, it diminishes by the time the six-month mark hits.Â
Although he may be a great friend to you, relationships were never his strong suit.Â
âItâs not wrong to fall out of love, but how many times are you going to break up with someone before you decide to stay?â you ask him, and he pauses to think.Â
âI donât know, but I canât stay, that would make things worse,â he sighs. âItâs better to just stop this whole thing now.âÂ
âI agree, but are you sure?â you continue to ask him the same questions youâve been asking since you were sixteen.Â
âIâm sure,â he replies with a heavy sigh.Â
âOkay, then goodnight. Itâs almost one in the morning,â you try to cut the call, but he continues to speak.Â
âIâm not the bad guy, right?â he asks you for reassurance.Â
âNo, youâre just human Wonwoo. Thereâs nothing wrong with losing feelings for someone,â you affirmed.Â
âAlright, thank you, good night and sweet dreams,â he whispers listlessly.Â
âGood night, Wonwoo.âÂ
Your phone beeps indicating that heâs hung up and you can feel the heartstrings pull inside your chest. How many times will it take for Wonwoo to find someone he actually wants to be with? And why is it never you?Â
act one, favorite crime.
chapter one.Â
âWait, what? You and Wonwoo arenât dating?â Seungcheol asks you, forcing you into the hot seat.Â
The rest of your friend group is boring holes into your face as they all sit around Jeonghanâs living room. The blood rises in your cheeks, but you shake your head anyway.Â
It feels like every time youâre with your friends, they ask you the same set of questions. Constantly wondering why you and Wonwoo havenât thought about dating, or why you two havenât decided to take the chance and just be together.Â
âYou guys need to stop asking that. A guy can befriend someone of the opposite gender,â Wonwoo defends the two of you.Â
âYouâre telling me in all the years youâve known her, you havenât developed feelings for her once?â Cheol continues to instigate, and your eyes go wide.Â
Looking over at Wonwoo, you anxiously wait for his answer, your chest blooming with hope, only for those buds to be washed away in a millisecond.Â
âNo, câmon, weâre just friends. Thatâs it, right?â Wonwoo turns to you, trying to get you to back him up.Â
Your mouth runs dry as he stares at you, his eyebrows rising in anticipation.Â
âU-uh yeah, Wonwooâs right, weâre just friends,â you blurt out, not being able to handle all the expectant eyes on you all at once.Â
âSee? Now can you all just get off our backs?â he chastises.Â
The chatter starts up again, moving past the topic of you and Wonwooâs friendship. But you sit there, with your heart crushed in your hands, lifeless and shrivelled. Like his words and actions had the power to tear the life out of you. The worst part was that he did all this without knowing. Heâs completely oblivious to your feelings, and you only have yourself to blame.
You understand your relationship with Wonwoo is different from most peopleâs, but at the same time, it should be normal for a girl and a guy to just be friends. And at least you respect Wonwooâs feelings, and you also respect that whenever heâs dating someone the dynamic between you two shifts.Â
He becomes more detached when heâs in a relationship, and youâre okay with that. His priorities change and youâre okay with that. Despite your feelings for him, you know that you canât force him to feel the same way. And you should be okay with that.Â
Youâve never tried to get in the way of his love life, or purposefully give him bad advice to ruin what he has with someone else. Not since you were seventeen, and at that time in your life your frontal lobe was a measly speck of dust, but it's different now. Now, your morals donât change just because you love him, but that doesnât mean it doesnât hurt any less to see the person youâre in love with, fall in love with someone else.Â
two.Â
âHey, you okay?â Seokmin approaches you, and you turn your head, acknowledging his presence.Â
âHuh? Yeah, Iâm alright,â you mutter, but you know you donât look that way.Â
Seokmin has known you since high school and has seen you through everything, probably more than Wonwoo. He knows when youâre not feeling well. A sympathetic permanent on his lips as he continues to observe you play with the food on your plate, pushing around the food aimlessly but never taking a bite.Â
The sounds of people conversing throughout the dining hall never die down. But luckily, the commotion keeps your thoughts of Wonwoo at bay, or at least thatâs what you like to think. But your heart canât seem to let go of that moment from the other day. Having Seungcheol confirm that Wonwoo has never felt anything romantically for you was like a stab in the stomach, and him getting you to back up his words was just him twisting the knife.Â
âWhatâs the matter, sweetheart? You can tell me,â he sighs, pushing the hair covering your face and placing it behind your ear.Â
You can feel the tears start to pool, but you try your damndest not to let them spillânot like this, not in front of so many people.Â
âIt was just something Wonwoo said when we were all at Hannieâs house,â you mumble, refusing to make eye contact with your friend.Â
âWhat did he say?âÂ
âThat heâs never liked me before,â you sigh, feeling a tear slip from your eye.Â
Cursing yourself in your head, you hate how much your feelings for him affect you. You hate how he doesnât have to even be in front of you, yet he can still cause your emotions to fluctuate.Â
âItâs alright,â he coos, pulling you into his strong arms.Â
It felt weird, to hug Seokmin so tightly in the middle of your universityâs dining hall. But youâre thankful for how aware he is, how he actually cares about your feelings. You felt melodramatic sitting there crying in the fucking dining hall of all places, but you couldnât help but let your tears flow as Seokmin comforts you with his soft voice.Â
âYou deserve more than this, I hope you know that,â he whispers in your ear.
three.Â
Over the next few days, the words Seokmin had whispered to you kept replaying in your head. You did deserve better and looking at all of Wonwooâs past relationships is the perfect example. Heâs not exactly the ideal boyfriend, so why did you even have feelings for him in the first place?
You could feel a migraine coming on from how hard you were thinking, but Wonwoo still seems to be the only person you canât let go of. No matter how many times youâve tried.Â
A knock on your door brings you out of your thoughts. It was late, and you donât remember anyone messaging you saying that they were going to come over, but you open the door anyway.Â
âHey, sorry I didnât text,â Wonwoo moves past you, takes his shoes off, and plops on your couch.Â
âItâs okay, whatâs up?â you move to sit beside him.Â
âI broke up with her,â He says, shrugging.Â
Taken aback by his nonchalance, your eyes widen. He seems calm for someone who has just broken up with his girlfriend. But you try not to think too hard about it, or you might just have to take another Advil to remedy your already growing headache.Â
âWell, how did it go?â you ask with a bit of apprehension.Â
Knowing Wonwoo, you knew that he probably just dumped her over the phone or something. Heâs never been bothered to really break up with someone.Â
You have all these examples of why he would probably be the worst boyfriend ever, yet your heart still belongs to him. Itâs pitiful, to say the least, people probably would think that youâre a masochist because you subject yourself to staying by his side when he has feelings for another.Â
âShe was crying, but at least itâs over now,â Wonwoo informs you as he eats the snacks you had left on your coffee table.Â
âOh.â You could feel the guilt start to seep into your veins.Â
It never felt good to hear Wonwoo talk about his breakups, but youâre not sure how to react. Thereâs a part of you thatâs happy to know that heâs single again, but the majority of you pities the girl who had just gotten her heart broken.Â
Wonwoo continues to munch on the snacks left on your table while your mind tries to process the information youâve been given. Hearing him talk so casually about his breakup leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you decide to switch topics instead of asking any more questions.Â
âAre you still going to Seokminâs thing this weekend, though?â you ask him, trying to fill the air with something to drown out your rapid heartbeats.Â
He shrugs his shoulders, âIf I feel like it. Are you?âÂ
The bottom of your stomach tightens. You were hoping that he would go, even looking forward to it. Is that pathetic? To want to see him everywhere you go? Maybe you were pathetic to the point where you only felt like hanging out with your friends if he was there.Â
âI mean, I donât have a ride soâŠâ you trail off, pretending to pay attention to whatever was playing on the T.V. screen.Â
âIâll go since youâre going, that way you have a ride,â he mumbles, adjusting his posture to lean back on your couch.Â
He sighs as he sinks into the plush cushions, spreading his legs while he puts his arms up. Youâre very aware of his proximity, and you try not to let it show. But the smell of his cologne invades your senses, knocking the breath out of your chest.Â
Wonwooâs arm circles your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and forcing your head to rest delicately on his broad shoulder. Exhaling, you let yourself enjoy his way of showing affection. Although to him it means nothing, and to you, quite literally everything.Â
âThank you for agreeing to go to Seokminâs so I have a ride,â you whisper but still avoid eye contact so he doesnât notice your flustered expression.Â
âThank you for letting me barge in here just so I can talk about my breakup,â he whispers back, kissing the top of your head.Â
âOf course, what are best friends for?âÂ
four.Â
Most people fall in love gradually, slowly growing feelings for the person before they can even call it love. Like the way the seasons steadily turned from winter to spring. Green grass peeking from underneath the melting snow, or flowers gently blooming and unravelling their new set of stems and petals. For you, it was different.
 Falling in love with Wonwoo wasnât gradual at all.Â
If anything, falling in love with Wonwoo felt like a snowstorm in the middle of a sunny day. Your affection for him grew rapidly, and before you knew it, your mind was clouded with him and him only. It became hard to stay rational as if you were driving down a snow-filled road without any control over the steering wheel. Swerving into different lanes, your brakes malfunction, making it hard to bring your car to a full stop. Falling in love with Wonwoo was not gradual or easy.
When you met him on the first day of your junior year of high school, your sixteen-year-old brain couldnât fully comprehend your crush on him. He was the shy, scrawny new kid in your class, and no one paid mind to him except you. But that didnât stop you from liking him. Despite his interest in collecting pokĂ©mon cards and his crooked glasses that were too big for his face, you were in love.Â
You were like two peas in a pod that whole year, and the only time you and Wonwoo spent time apart was when he had to leave during summer break to visit family in Korea.Â
When he returned for your senior year, you could barely recognize him. Suddenly the nerdy Wonwoo you knew was gone. His glasses complimented his face, his hair was styled differently, and most of all, he got hot. A lot of your classmates mustâve seemed to agree because now your best friend and the man youâre in love with gained attention from people who didnât even bat an eyelash at him last year.Â
It annoyed you to see all these people suddenly interested in him. You were angry that just because he grew a few inches and learned to do his hair didnât mean he was that much different from how he was last year.Â
Even though Wonwoo was in a relationship, he still stayed true to your friendship. He still hung out with you, ate lunch with you, you even came over on weekends to have dinner with his family. Day by day, your love for him strengthened, and you ignored that his attention had been divided between you and his girlfriend at the time.Â
When their relationship hit three months, it seemed your friendship had come to an abrupt halt. He didnât invite you for dinner as often, you two didnât talk on the phone every other night. He started to invest more of his time into her until he decided she wasnât worth his energy anymore. Then the calls would come, his contact name flashing across your phone screen to ask you for advice.Â
âI feel like I need to break up with Haein,â his deep voice flowed through your phone speaker. A sigh left his lips as he faced the truth.Â
Haein was Wonwooâs first girlfriend. She was nice, almost too nice. Wonwoo definitely had a type for girls with a bubbly personality. Ones that were effortlessly beautiful, reminiscent of a freshly made porcelain doll. That was Haein to you, unblemished in every way possible. Everything that you werenât.
You couldnât bring yourself to hate her. She was too nice to hate, but your younger self was so angry at how much of Wonwoo's time she took up that you envied her. Seokmin once jokingly mentioned that you looked especially green when she was around, and you remember how quickly you checked your appearance on the nearest reflective surface because of what he had said in passing. You remember vividly how nervous his words made you, was it that obvious?
Wonwooâs first time calling you about his breakup plans was a delightful surprise, and you were too in shock to sputter out a proper response.
âOh. Why?â was all you could say, still stunned that after a week of no contact, this was the first thing he said.Â
ââDunno, I just donât like her anymore,â he admitted effortlessly.Â
You didnât know how to respond. Your heart was screaming at you to encourage him to break up with his girlfriend at the time, while your brain was telling you to think logically.Â
âWell, if thatâs what you think is right,â you mumbled, trying to hide the fact that you felt a sense of relief at Wonwoo potentially being single again.Â
Others may have tried to rationalize with Wonwoo, but you didnât care. You wanted your friendship with him to turn back to normal. Your adolescent brain ignored that it was wrong to encourage him, as long as he was fully yours again.
History repeated itself over and over, and the older you got, you learnt to not be so selfish with his attention. Mostly out of guilt for the person he was going to break up with, but also because you didnât want Wonwoo to realize your true feelings.Â
Although being in love with Wonwoo was brutal, you constantly wished that things were different between you two, but they werenât. Heâs never seen you as more than a friend, and as your friendship with him progressed, you had begun to learn to mask your romantic feelings for platonic ones.Â
five.Â
By the time you entered university, you had mastered the art of pretending. As if your feelings for Wonwoo didnât exist. You are quite meticulous in ensuring that he never realizes that you are profoundly in love with him. The mere thought of him finding out how you truly felt frightened you.Â
Youâve already envisioned countless scenarios on how it could go. The idea of being rejected by the one you love most. It would change everything about your friendship with him. The look of pity in his eyes, the apologies that would spill out of his mouth. You can't bear even the thought of rejection. Not from him.Â
Two voices are constantly at war inside your mind. Your brain, acting as the voice of reason, constantly reminds you that itâs better to preserve your friendship. To keep the dynamic youâve always had with Wonwoo guarded where it could last, thrive. While your heart persuaded you with deluded, fake scenarios.Â
âWhat if he likes you back?âÂ
âYou never know until you try.âÂ
âTake the risk or lose the chance.âÂ
What if.Â
Like a siren to a sailor, your heart sang with deep imagery. Filling your thoughts with illusions of you and Wonwoo finally together. But your mind doesnât let you go without a fight. It knows that beyond the deep waters where your siren-voiced heart lies is nothing but a bottomless pit.Â
The possibilities are endless, and youâd rather stay safely grounded in your boat of rationality.Â
A notification brings you out of your thoughts. Although you already knew that it was Wonwoo, you scramble to pick up your phone. Thereâs excitement laced in your veins as you look down at the screen.Â
7:06 p.m. [wons <3]: be there in 5.Â
There was no reason for you to be so ecstatic but you couldnât help it. He had already texted you prior, notifying you that he was leaving his place to come pick you up, and yet every time your phone buzzes, you still hope that itâs something completely different. But that was your heart talking; you knew that it wouldnât be anything out of the ordinary.Â
Everyone had planned to meet at Seokminâs place today, just to have one last celebration before midterms began again. You had happily agreed, enthusiastic that you could spend more time with Wonwoo, although it wouldnât be a one-on-one thing. You were more than elated to see him while also being able to hang out with the rest of your friends.Â
Throwing your phone back on the bed, you change into an outfit that is both cute and comfortable. There wasnât a reason to dress up when the vibe at Seokminâs was just going to be sitting around his living room, drinking cocktails and eating pizza.Â
Wonwoo texts you once more to let you know heâs outside, causing you to race down to meet him. A lump in your throat arises, as he comes into your field of vision, appreciating how breathtakingly handsome he is.Â
The chilled breeze brushes through the strands of his hair, glasses perched on his tall nose. He looked amazing, just like he always had, but you never get bored of admiring him. Even if itâs just from afar.Â
âHi! Sorry if I kept you waiting,â your voice resounds into the night.Â
âIt's never a problem if itâs you,â he chuckles as you dawdle over to the passenger side of his car.Â
Trying not to read too deep into his words, you snort at his cheesy line instead of giving a response. Watching Wonwoo move to the side as he opens the car door for you. His actions make you blush, and you know youâll think about it for the rest of the night.Â
âAre you ready to go?â he asks, smiling at you.Â
The ride to Seokminâs house is fairly quiet, the sounds of music filling the silence instead. Your thoughts are overflowing with scenarios once again, wondering how different the car ride would be if you and Wonwoo were in a relationship. His fingers would probably be laced with yours, or rubbing soothingly against your thigh while his other hand gripped the steering wheel. Planting kisses on your cheeks at every red light. It seemed like heaven on the other side. But you knew reality would crush your delusions soon enough.Â
âŠ
 The clock on Seokminâs pale white wall is nearing midnight and you donât want to be here anymore. Not when the only thing you could focus on was Wonwoo flirting with a girl whose name you didnât catch. Sheâs Joshuaâs childhood friend and he only brought her along because sheâs visiting from out of town. Whoever she was, it didnât matter. The only thing that mattered to you was the fact that she was able to bring out Wonwooâs deep laugh. The kind of laugh that only befalls upon your ears when he finds something genuinely funny.
The ugly swirl of jealousy sits in the pit of your stomach and you couldn't help but scoff at your wretched situation. It made you sick watching them, and you could throw up any minute now. At this point, you werenât sure who to envy, Wonwoo or the girl he was flirting with. You find it unfair that he doesnât realize how greatly he can impact your feelings.Â
Just a few hours ago, you were in utter bliss. Sitting in the front seat of his car, listening to the music softly playing on the ride to Seokminâs apartment. Making stupid jokes and pointing out the random sights that you had seen while driving down the bustling city streets. You envy how easy it is for Wonwoo to make all those feelings of delight vanish. And he doesnât even know. He doesnât know what heâs doing to you, and thatâs what hurts the most.Â
âYou doing okay?â Seokmin comes up to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately.Â
âHuh? Oh. Yeah Iâm okay,â you chuckle, but thereâs nothing humorous about your laugh at all.Â
His eyes soften, he knows that youâre not okay. Seokmin always knew. After all these years, he can tell when youâre trying to save face. Thereâs a lump in your throat, and if you didnât have a drink to sip on to distract you, you probably wouldâve gone to the bathroom to cry.Â
âYou wanna talk in my room?â he offers, and youâre grateful.Â
Seokmin knew he had to get you somewhere other than the living room. You were practically torturing yourself, sitting on the couch and watching Wonwoo talk to everyone but you.Â
Instead of agreeing vocally, you nod your head before standing up to follow Seokmin to his room. The door shuts softly, muffling the sounds of laughter and allowing your uneasiness to finally subside.Â
As you sit on Seokminâs bed, you feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks. It feels pathetic, crying over something so trivial. Why does it have to be you who feels this way? Why canât you just be a normal friend and see Wonwoo in a platonic light? The whole world could turn upside and heâd be the first person you search for.Â
Everything just seemed so unfair, how could you possibly be happy if your feelings for Wonwoo were constantly in the way of it all? Itâs tiring, worrying about him, yearning for him. You could do so many other things with your time, and when you look toward the future, you know that youâll regret how much of your life you wasted loving someone who doesnât love you back.Â
âItâs okay, just let it out,â Seokmin whispers in your ear, embracing you in a tight hug.Â
Crying felt good. You rarely cry over your situation despite how upsetting it is. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to finally indulge in your sadness and let go of everything you were too afraid to say or feel. Â
âI know it sucks right now, but honestly, it might be time to get over him,â Seokmin continues to comfort you while trying to help you face the reality of your situation. âYouâre so hurt, and itâs taking a toll on you. Please, I canât bear to see you so sad.âÂ
His words hit you hard because you know it's true. But all you can do is apologize. Saying sorry for feeling this way, even though itâs not your fault, you cannot control your feelings, you still apologize. To Seokmin, to your friends, but also yourself.Â
âI-Iâm sorry,â you hiccup, tears staining Seokminâs white shirt.Â
âWhy are you sorry? You did nothing wrong,â he mutters, his large hand patting your head, trying to soothe your fit of emotions.Â
âBecause, if I was normal, you wouldnât have to worry about me, about why Iâm always upset, you and the others, my feelings are burdening all of you,â you continue to weep softly in his arms, gripping onto his shoulders as his hands encircle your waist.Â
âHey, look at meââ he grabs your face, gentle as a mouse, rubbing away the tears from your cheeks. âYou are not a burden. We care, thatâs why we worry, and I just want to be there for you.âÂ
âThank you, Seokmin. Iâm so happy that I have someone like you in my life,â you pull him into a hug again, knocking the air out of his chest, but heâs still somehow able to hug you even tighter.Â
Seokmin is like your favourite childhood blanket, keeping you warm and away from everything that could possibly hurt you. Heâs always willing to hear you rant about things that you know you could never tell Wonwoo.Â
âIâm so tired, Iâm tired of feeling like this,â you admit to him.Â
Running his hands through your hair, he gives you a reassuring smile.Â
âMaybe itâs time to distance yourself from him a bit, you two have been glued to the hip for so long. Maybe that distance can help organize your feelings better,â he mutters, catching the stray tears that pool at your chin, and wiping them away for you.Â
âI want to feel better,â you agree with him, still trying to recover from how hard you were sobbing into his chest.Â
âI care about you, okay? We all do. Wonwoo cares about you, too, but thereâs a point where youâll have to be okay with whatever outcome happens if you decide to tell him how you feel. Or you just have to find a way to get over him,â he speaks softly, trying not to crush your heart with reality, but you know heâs right. âIn the Future, you will thank yourself for making whatever decision you have to make, but trust me, holding all these feelings in wonât do you any good.â He ends his pep talk there, and you sigh, trying to process everything he said.Â
âThank you, Minnie, Iâm so thankful I have you,â you sniffled.Â
âAnd I you.âÂ
âŠ
Seokmin explained to Soonyoung and Jihoon that you needed to go home after your talk in his bedroom. They were more than happy to take you along with them before heading back to their place, not wanting to force you into a car with Wonwoo at the end of the night.Â
âOf course, itâs really no trouble at all,â Soonyoung reassures you after you had asked about a million times if it was okay to ride home with them.Â
The car ride is drastically different from the one you had taken on the way to Seokminâs, Soonyoung being the number one reason why. Heâs not the best at reading the room, although Jihoon is constantly telling him to shut up. He knows you are upset over something, but Soonyoungâs way of cheering you up is getting you to laugh. While Jihoon believed that you may want a more peaceful environment after everything that happened.Â
As Jihoon drove, Soonyoung sang along with the lyrics of the current song playing. Loud enough for anyone outside the car to hear him. You could tell he was a bit tipsy after the few beers he had earlier, but you didnât mind the noise. Jihoon begged to differ.Â
âSoon, can you tone it down? Please. People are looking at us,â Jihoon grumbles, trying to focus on the road ahead.Â
âBut you love it when I sing,â Soonyoung whines, and you canât help but laugh.Â
âI do, but our friend has had a long night,â Jihoon counters.Â
Soonyoung turns to face you from the passenger seat. âIf you want me to be quiet, I will.âÂ
âNo, itâs okay, Iâm actually enjoying it, thank you very much,â you giggle, and that was all the confirmation he needed, going back to his antics.Â
Jihoon groans as Soonyoung practically breaks out into full song and dance, causing you to sing along with him. This distraction from all the conflicting thoughts gives you a refuge from the war inside your mind. Â
The whole way back to your place was filled with singing and laughter, allowing you to finally feel at ease for once. Albeit Jihoon pretended to act annoyed the whole time, you knew he secretly loved how Soonyoung tried to bring the mood back up to help you.Â
Once you got home, you thanked the two before bidding them farewell. Apprehension flowed throughout you, and you didn't want to be alone with your thoughts after being around someone as cheerful as Soonyoung. But you didnât know where else to go or what else to do.
Laying in your bed, you think about how today went from beginning to end, and youâre scared of what will happen in the future. Sighing to yourself, you allow yourself to at least get some rest instead of staying up all night thinking about the possibilities of tomorrow. Turning your phone on "do not disturb," the stillness in your apartment lulls you to sleep.Â
1:09 a.m. [wons <3]: seokmin said u went home early? u ok?Â
ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?
chapter one.Â
Wonwooâs ride home was sombre, yet desolate. Your absence from his passenger seat irked him. Street lights whisk by his vision in a blur, but heâs too lost in his thoughts as he drives on autopilot, wondering why you went home so early. You didnât even say goodbye. Itâs the first time you went home from Seokminâs place without him.Â
By the time he got home, his curiosity had started to claw at him, but he didnât want to be irrational and assume the worst. So he texted you, hoping that there would be an explanation awaiting him in the morning.Â
Not a single notification from you came that very next morning. No matter how many times his phone went off, no matter how many notifications popped up from his screen. None of them were you. Morning turned to afternoon, and afternoon slowly turned into night. Still nothing.Â
He feels dejected. Everything seemed to be going okay just last night. That was until you abruptly left without telling him you were going home. What changed? Why did it feel like there was a shift between you two?Â
Rejection is foreign to Wonwoo. Most times, itâs him thatâs doing the rejecting. He was the one to always initiate the breakup and lose feelings first; every decision he made was made by him. He has no control over whether youâre going to text him back or not, and to put it simply, he canât stand that feeling.Â
Wonwoo hates not being in control. Whether that be his future, his relationships, and especially his feelings. At least thatâs what he forces himself to believe. That itâs not fair of you to ignore him when heâs worried about you, because heâs your best friend. You should answer him when he texts you. When he calls you, and especially when he shows up at your door, seeking your comfort. In his mind, that is what he believes the foundation of your friendship is. To comfort each other, just like it always has been.Â
Sure, maybe Wonwoo is entitled, perhaps heâs conceited and selfish, but he doesnât care. Because in his mind, youâre his best friend. There was no way in hell that you were ignoring him. His ego doesnât even consider it a possibility. You were busy, thatâs it. That has to be it.Â
âŠÂ
Less than forty-eight hours in, Wonwoo couldnât stop himself from texting you once more. Nimble fingers practically itching to open your contact to update you about the most mundane things. Maybe if he pretended that this moment of silence was perfectly normal, then maybe you would eventually end up answering him.Â
12:36 p.m [wons <3]: class just finished. lunch at our usual place?
Nothing. Not even a thumbâs up reaction. Wonwoo had become antsy, guilt and slight annoyance gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Where the hell are you? What are you doing thatâs so important that you couldnât even open his message let alone read them?Â
1:27 p.m. [wons <3]: this random girl asked for my number after class lol. weird right? i didnât give it to her though đ
Cursing at himself, he regrets pressing the send button on that text. Double texting you is already out of the norm for him, but triple texting? He canât believe how desperate he looks right now. He wishes he could bring himself to unsend it, but he just hopes itâll be the text that finally gets you to respond.Â
2:10 p.m. [wons <3]: saw a bunny running thru the oval today u shouldâve seen it! reminded me of u. [1 photo attachment]Â
Absolute radio silence from your end. Wonwoo is starting to think that you had him blocked, but his messages are still delivering. Unsure of whatâs worse, you ignoring him or blocking his number, Wonwoo still tries his best to remain calm.
4:00 p.m. [wons <3]: im about to head home soon. r u riding w me today?Â
The sight of you getting into Seokminâs car made Wonwoo scoff. Since when did you start getting rides home from Seokmin? And why was he the one opening the door for you? Buckling your seatbelt instead of his own? Wonwoo is completely dumbfounded at what he has witnessed.Â
4:30 p.m. [wons <3]: saw u get into seokminâs car, lmk if u need a ride tmrw.Â
Seeing you laugh and smile while walking to the student parking lot with Seokmin, of all people, solidified the fact that you are actively ignoring his texts. And he just canât stand the thought of it. How dare he be ignored? Especially by his best friend, the one person who had always responded to him, no matter the time or how busy you were, you always texted him back.Â
Wonwoo initially thought that even if the world ended, you would be there within arms reach, enough to hold you close, where he could keep you safe. You were predictable in that sense. But if the world decided to burst into flames, or swallow itself whole tomorrow, heâs unsure if you would be there right next to him by the time he woke up.Â
two, wonwooâs summer before senior year.Â
The school year flew by with the speed of light. And before Wonwoo knew it, he was home back in Korea for the summer. The dreaded fifteen-hour plane ride over was excruciating. There was an ache in his lower back, and his knees felt like they were being struck by a hammer with every step he took. But at least the worst part was over.Â
Sixteen-year-old Wonwoo was quite naive, thinking that heâd be welcomed into his home country with loving arms. That hadnât been the case at all, and for the two months that he spent in Changwon, he couldnât help but count the days till he could come back home. Where you had been patiently waiting for him.Â
He despised being away from you, and he had yearned for you every moment he was gone. With you by his side, Wonwoo had finally understood the true meaning of solace, a peace of mind that couldnât be replicated. Not even the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown could outweigh the feeling of tranquillity that he got when he was with you.
Every year that Wonwoo was dragged back to Korea by his parents was excruciating. Especially because he had a certain distaste for his relatives. Maybe it was disrespectful to loathe them the way he did, but he couldnât care less. Their scathing comments would flow out of their mouths just to pierce daggers of judgement into his back. To insult Wonwoo was second nature to his aunts, and he couldnât do much but sit back and listen. Â
Much to his dismay, his parents hadnât even bothered to book an Airbnb for their stay, informing him and his brother that they would be staying with his aunt. He couldnât stand his aunt Seo-Ah in particular, and he swore the feeling was mutual. Unsure of why he had to withstand her crude remarks in front of his family without much protest, he forced himself not to dish out rude rebuttals to everything she had to say.Â
There was a time when Wonwoo tried to reason with himself on why his aunt was filled with so much bitterness, but he gave up on that long ago. He was about to be seventeen now, and he couldnât bring himself to empathize with the older lady anymore.Â
âWonwoo! Youâre all grown up now, and I canât believe it,â Seo-Ah forced him into a bone-crushing hug as he tried his best not to push her off of him. She pulled back to take a closer look at him and he could already see the scrutinizing gleam in her eyes, âYou know, youâre still so skinny for your age. Do your parents not feed you enough?âÂ
Wonwoo wanted to scoff at her, but he kept a neutral expression.Â
âNo they do, I donât know maybe itâs my fast metabolism or something,â he refuted her claims. He couldnât wait to get out of her sight.Â
âYou know, maybe you should start going to the gym, get some muscle on you or something,â she patted his lanky arm and laughed that dreadful laugh. The ones that have no real humour behind it, just to cover up the obvious dig she took at his appearance.Â
âYeah maybe,â he dismisses her to head into the house. Setting his luggage down to check whether or not youâve texted him yet.Â
It was about five in the evening in Changwon, but he knew you wouldnât be asleep. Faintly recalling how you were planning to stay up late every night to watch BuzzFeed unsolved videos, or until your mom yelled at you to go to bed.Â
[4:15 p.m. kst] [you: i stayed up all night watching buzzfeed unsolved] [you: im going crazy i keep getting paranoid to the point iâve turned all my mirrors backwards] [you: hope ur flight was ok tho!!! đ«¶]
He chuckled to himself, remembering your wide eyes and elaborate plan to sneak snacks into your room in the early hours of the morning behind your parentsâ backs. Wonwoo missed you, and your stupid obsession with horror podcasts and YouTube shows. He missed the way your smile would shine so bright as you talked about all the haunted places the hosts would visit.Â
Wonwoo did not care for horror or anything scary, but if you were to ask him to stay up all night on Facetime binge-watching your little Buzzfeed videos, he would do so in a heartbeat.Â
Two days down, about another 89 to go, Wonwoo thought to himself as he looked through your messages with him. You had already spammed the chat mercilessly about your first two days of summer break, and your intricate mission to stay up without accidentally falling asleep in the middle of it all.Â
[6:00 p.m. kst] [1 photo attachment] [you: currently trying to sneak snacks into my room without my mom knowing] [you: u better not snitch đŸ] [you: its so boring w out u here btw SO COME BACK SOON PLSS] [you: ok thats enuffâŠtxt me when u land!]
Wonwoo really missed you.Â
âŠ
One more week and Wonwoo would finally get to see you again. The ability to talk to you in person, hug you, and spend time with you gave him something to look forward to, and thankfully, summer break went by fast because of it.Â
He had spent most of his time in Korea eating at local food spots, going to the gym, and trying a lot of new things with his brother, Seongho, giving them time to bond before he went off to University again. Wonwoo had missed his brother dearly during the school year, but at least they were able to pass the time together during summer break.Â
It was initially his brotherâs convincing that got him to go to the gym for the very first time. The idea of going to a place with a lot of sweaty, adrenaline-filled people kind of frightened him, but the more he went, the more he started to like what he saw in the mirror. Wonwooâs shoulders had broadened, and his lanky arms finally started to show signs of muscles. He was satisfied in knowing that all of his hard work, and Seonghoâs encouragement had finally paid off.Â
Seongho told him he looked a lot more carefree now that he wasnât so worried about his appearance all the time. And it was then that Wonwoo realized that he wasnât all that bad-looking, after all.Â
Wonwoo had begun to take pride in his vanity. He searched for different ways to style his hair, bought glasses that better suited his face shape, and, most of all, did his best to act more confidently. The sudden change made him wonder how you would react. He had been anticipating your reaction, wanting to see the look on your face once he returned home.Â
âYou got it. Just one more rep, and we can switch,â Seongho encouraged Wonwoo as he tried to push the bar up from his chest.Â
His muscles were aching in the most addictive and satisfying way. He almost wished he had started working out earlier because only good things seemed to have come ever since he stepped foot into the gym.Â
âOkay! Youâre done, that was good,â his older brother high-fived him, a proud smile dancing along his lips.Â
âThanks, but my arms feel like jelly now,â he huffed a chuckle before gulping down the contents of his water bottle.Â
Seongho chuckled along with him before setting himself down on the workout bench. His actions faltered, and he slowly observed the mirror in front of him, raising his eyebrows in amusement.Â
âUh, donât look now, but I think that girl is staring at you,â Seongho tilted his head in the girlâs direction and Wonwoo couldnât be more confused.Â
âHuh? Are you sure it's me theyâre looking at and not you?âÂ
âIâm serious! You should go talk to her,â Seongho grinned, pushing his younger brother in the direction of the girl who was supposedly eyeing Wonwoo.Â
âHyung!â Wonwoo calls out but it falls on deaf ears as his older brother begins his bench presses.Â
Wonwoo turns towards the girl in the most awkward way humanly possible. He was completely dumbfounded and not sure what to do in the situation heâd been put in. The girl who was staring at him waved flirtatiously, and before he could even think about his next move, his feet had begun to move on their own accord.Â
âHi, I saw you working out over there, are you new here?â she asked him, batting her eyelashes.Â
âUhm, I guess? Iâm only here for the summer though,â he spoke with apprehension, because what the hell was he even supposed to say?Â
âOh! Me too. My name is Haein, by the way.â Haeinâs smile reached her eyes as she giggled, and her hand extended to shake Wonwooâs.Â
Wonwooâs actions were practically robotic, rubbing his sweaty palms on his gym shorts before taking her hand in his. He remembers thinking about how soft her hands were, and how pretty she looked with her hair tied up in a messy bun.Â
âIâm Wonwoo.âÂ
âWonwoo, hmm, thatâs a cute name. But I think I would like it more in my contacts,â she flirted shamelessly, her fingers squeezing his sweaty bicep.Â
Wonwooâs mind short-circuited, and he took out his phone from his pocket so fast it almost slipped out of his grasp. Haein found it endearing though, and happily gave him her phone number.Â
They talked for the rest of Wonwoo's time at the gym and promised to hang out more before they both went home at the end of the summer.Â
To put it simply, Wonwoo was on cloud nine for the first time since heâs been here. Suddenly his aunt Seo-Ahâs words werenât so hurtful, his confidence had skyrocketed, plus he had a beautiful girl to talk to for the rest of his vacation.Â
By the end of summer, Wonwoo started to miss you less and less. Even though he still saw you as his best friend, he began to find peace in other things, like the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown. Finally, for the first time in his life, Wonwoo felt serene, and that made him a little more whole than he was when he first landed in Changwon.Â
âŠ
The after-effects of Wonwooâs surprisingly pleasant summer vacation hadnât worn off just yet. The gift of Haein appearing in his life seemed to just keep on giving. Not only did she live overseas, she had told him that she was actually from the same city as him. It was a little hard to believe at first as if he was the main character in a cheesy rom-com, but he couldnât find it in him to complain. Haein made him feel wanted, excited, and cared for.Â
Wonwoo wasnât entirely devoid of those feelings, especially with you as his best friend, but it was different coming from Haein. Every time he saw her, he felt like he was going to throw up, in a good way of course, but she also boosted his confidence. He liked that she made him feel like he was a man worth depending on.Â
Haein was his first real relationship, and although he was still young, he could see himself being with her for a long time.Â
âŠ
Quite like the seasons, Wonwooâs feelings for Haein changed drastically by the time school was back in session. Although he and Haein lived in the same city, there was a lot more than just distance that separated them.Â
Six months into their relationship, Wonwoo began to doubt himself. He was less eager to meet her or even text her. He could only blame himself for how things turned out with Haein. Despite his adolescence, he believed he loved her; he just got tired and disinterested.Â
On a subconscious level, Wonwoo could not stop comparing Haein to you, and as fucked up as that was, it was completely out of his control. Why didnât Haein ever want to talk about what Wonwoo was interested in? Why did she seem bored out of her mind when he would delve into his theories about his favourite shows? Or anything about himself and what he liked. As though she didnât see him for the Wonwoo he was, the personality he had behind his looks.Â
âIt all makes sense now! Eren had Zeke fooled!â Wonwoo couldnât contain his excitement about the newest episode, but Haein didnât seem interested in hearing her boyfriend geek out.Â
âI'm sorry babe, but I gave up after the first episode,â Haein sighed into the phone, and if Wonwoo could guess, she was probably picking at her cuticles out of boredom. âI just didnât get anything that was happening.âÂ
âWait, really?â He was a little offended, how could she not be obsessing over the beautiful intricacies of his favourite anime? Wonwoo didnât understand.Â
He didnât understand because when he introduced you to the show, you texted him the next day saying you were caught up to where he had left off. It amazed Wonwoo how fast you were at binge-watching shows, especially because he had told you about it on a weekday.Â
You came into school the morning after with dark circles under your eyes, but even with that tired look on your face, you ran up to him with so much eagerness while thanking him for urging you to watch his favourite show. You two were obsessed and never missed out on watching the weekly episodes together. It had become you and Wonwooâs thing, and even though he wanted Haein to join in on the fun, he found himself more entertained by your theories than by talking on the phone with his girlfriend.Â
It dawned on him that he wished that Haein acted a little more like you. And it made him feel guilty. He knew he shouldâve loved Haein no matter her interests, but he wanted someone who could understand his nerdy side. And that was only something that you were able to do.Â
âHonestly, Iâm really tired, Iâm gonna go to bed now okay?â Haeinâs voice brought Wonwoo out of his thoughts.Â
âOh okay. Night.â He said before ending the call so quickly that Haeinâs âI love youâ was cut off mid-sentence.Â
Haein probably had thought he had forgotten, but Wonwoo just didnât want to say those words if he didnât mean it. He had grown annoyed, and a little bored of practically talking to a wall all night. Â
Comparable to the light switching off in his bedroom, he decided to do the same thing with Haein. He pushed his guilt aside and decided it was probably best to leave Haein and Changwon in the past. The memories of his last week of summer with her would become something he would look back on in the future and smile. But he didnât want to pretend any longer, it wouldâve just hurt her more if he stayed, he couldnât help that he fell out of love with her. The least he could do was not lead her on.Â
Wonwooâs relationship with Haein was merely a catalyst and a peek into what the rest of his relationships were going to look like in adulthood. He was never able to comprehend why he couldnât keep feelings for anyone after the six-month mark, and it almost frustrated him. Something was missing in every single relationship he had been in, and he wasnât sure what that was. But he was determined to find an answer.Â
three, present time.
The answer was you. But of course, Wonwoo didnât know that.Â
âAre you gonna keep checking your phone every five minutes or are you gonna do your homework?â Mingyu lectures him.Â
The two were studying in the library before their stats midterm, but Wonwooâs mind couldnât help but wonder. He hasnât been acting like himself since the night of Seokminâs party.Â
âOh, right.â Wonwoo clears his throat, putting his phone face down on the table.Â
Wonwoo drags his palms against his face, trying to not let sleep overtake him. It is not his fault that every time he tries to close his eyes, your face comes into his mind. The memory of you smiling with Seokmin made his insides twist. He hasnât seen you smile that hard in a while, and he almost misses how your eyes crinkle whenever you do so. You were practically haunting him and he had no idea how to make it stop.Â
âNot to be rude, but youâve been looking like shit lately. Whatâs wrong?â Mingyu questions him with furrowed eyebrows.Â
Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his friend, he didnât have to be insulted to know how crappy he looked, but Mingyu seemed to only be telling the truth. Wonwoo did look and feel like shit. With the amount of near run-ins heâs had with you and Seokmin on campus, heâs begun to sense that itâs some sort of karma. Whatever that karma may be for, he fully believes that itâs completely unwarranted.Â
Forcing a hand through his dark locks, Wonwoo contemplates whether or not he should just go up to you in person and demand answers. Itâs uncommon for the two of you to fight, or ignore each other for that matter. But he canât help but presume that if he were to confront you about your silence, there would be no rightful explanation. Or at least not the explanation that he wants from you.Â
Every time he even fathoms the thought of barging into your apartment and asking what the hell is wrong, thereâs a lingering nervousness that he wishes would dissipate, leading him to lay awake with his thoughts for hours on end.Â
âThanks for that, asshole, I just havenât been getting much sleep,â Wonwoo huffs.Â
âOkay, obviously. You practically look like a zombie with the way youâve been moping around. What has been keeping you up?â Mingyu presses.Â
Itâs not every day that Wonwoo indulges in his problems with Mingyu, thatâs what you were for. However, he canât talk about his problems about you, to you, so heâll have to settle for the next best thing. Â
âY/N has been ignoring me since the night we all hung out at Seokminâs,â Wonwoo confesses, and it feels nice.Â
For the past two weeks, heâs been keeping his frustrations to himself, and now that he can freely speak about it lifts the weight off his chest.Â
Mingyu snorts, obviously finding his friendâs situation humorous. Wonwoo sneers at Mingyuâs reaction, clearly not finding anything about you ignoring him funny.Â
âServes you right, youâre a dick to her, man.â Mingyu shrugs without any remorse to spare.Â
âWhat?â Wonwoo sputters, since when was he a dick to you? His best friend?Â
âHow blind are you? You have glasses and everything but you canât see how mean you are to her sometimes? Really?â Mingyu almost sounds offended on your behalf as he stares at Wonwoo with an incredulous expression.Â
âI am not a dick to her. She would definitely tell me if Iâve ever said something to hurt her feelings,â Wonwoo defends himself.Â
Attempting to rack his brain of all your moments together, he canât seem to pick out a memory where he has been especially rude to you. Of course, you two teased each other from time to time, but he wasnât a complete asshole. He knew when to not take a joke too far or purposely try to upset you.Â
âYouâre a dumbass.â Mingyu lets out a frustrated sigh which only aggravates Wonwoo even more.Â
âCould you stop with the insults for one second and just tell me whatâs going on?âÂ
Shutting his laptop, Mingyuâs posture becomes serious, a deviation from his usual carefree and smiley self. He cares about you just as much as the next person, so if he had to reality-check his friend, then so be it.Â
âShe cares about you a lot. And you treat her like shit. Itâs not about what youâve said to her, itâs your actions. Ever since we were in high school all youâve done is use her to solve your problems. I canât even blame her for wanting to cut you off. I donât know what happened at Seokminâs place for her to realize that, but you donât deserve her,â Mingyu confesses.Â
Soaking up each word that left Mingyuâs mouth, Wonwoo sat in a pool of perplexity. There are so many questions flying through his mind, yet he canât seem to utter a single word. Is that really how everyone perceives his friendship with you?Â
Wonwoo is going to throw up. There's a tightness in his chest and a burning sensation behind his eyes. He wants nothing more than to hear all of this coming from you, not Mingyu. The frustration of wanting to talk to you about this is taking a toll on him, he doesnât want to believe that Mingyu is telling the truth.Â
Itâs not fair. Itâs not fair that Mingyu gets to know these things about you while Wonwoo is just left in the dark. Did he make you feel like you couldnât tell him anything?Â
Ever since Wonwoo met you, it was evident that he can be quite merciless when it comes to his relationships, but thatâs romantic, not platonic. Wonwoo was convinced that he treated you equally because thatâs how it's supposed to be.Â
Hearing Mingyu talk about his friendship with you in that way caused Wonwooâs whole world to crash down. And the only thing he can do in moments like these is seek out your comfort, except he canât anymore. Not only has he been a terrible friend without realizing it, but heâs pushed you so far to the brink that youâd rather ignore him than attempt to hash out whatâs been troubling you.
âI-I didnât know that's how you guys saw our friendship,â Wonwoo falters, clearly taken aback, and still attempting to fully comprehend whatâs been said to him.Â
âItâs not that we see your friendship with her that way, it is that way. If I was her, I wouldâve cut you off a long time ago.âÂ
âWell, thanks, Gyu. I feel like this couldâve been said before she started ignoring me,â Wonwoo huffs, trying to come up with the words to explain his side.
âIt was kinda obvious, man,â Mingyu shrugs.Â
âWas it, though? If I had known, I wouldâve at least tried to be better,â Wonwoo attests, tired of feeling like the bad guy.Â
âHow about you just talk to her about it instead of sulking,â Mingyu suggests.Â
Desperation hijacked his rational thinking, making Mingyuâs advice sound plausible. Talking to you seemed out of the equation since you started ignoring him; he feared you wouldnât even answer if he tried to call or show up at your door. But he canât go on like this, especially now that he knows there is more to your friendship than he had initially thought.Â
four.Â
For the first time in Wonwooâs life, heâs unsure about what decision to make. Although he wants nothing more than to knock on your door, his feet stop him from even entering your building. So instead of mucking up the courage to talk to you face to face, he waits inside his car. Without a solid plan, he continues to sit there, biding his time.Â
Never has he acted so pathetic in his life, not even for the sake of his relationships. He knows that nothing will come from sitting there, just watching, but before he can even comprehend what he is doing and where he is going, he is already across the street from your place.Â
Gripping on the leather of his steering wheel, he just couldnât help himself. He canât help but watch your silhouette from your window. The curtains are drawn, but there are glimpses of you walking around. Heâs such a fucking loser. What type of person has Wonwoo become that he resorts to stalking you from the front of your building?Â
After all that Mingyu has enlightened him on, Wonwooâs attitude has become less angry and more apologetic. There was a line he pondered crossing, and it practically mocked him. Stepping over that line would mean getting answers from you, demanding to be brought into the light that you had snuffed out from under him. But his uncertainty of the outcome outweighed his decision to do so.
That same apologetic attitude died a fiery death after watching Seokmin leave your apartment. There you were in all your glory, the tiny sleep set clinging onto your body as the wind forced its way into the door of your building. Then there was Seokmin, grinning like a fucking idiot as he waved goodbye.Â
âShit!â Wonwoo grunts as he ducks down, not wanting to blow his cover. His car was visible from where the two of you stood, hoping that you werenât able to recognize it in the dead of night. Â
Boring holes into the back of Seokminâs head, Wonwoo's guilt diminished, floating away with the cold night breeze. You were fine, and he shouldâve known that the root of all his problems started with the name Lee Seokmin.Â
The shape of your figure had faded into the confines of your building. Yet Wonwoo can still make out your body through the glass window of your door. He canât help but gawk at your skimpy attire, your ass practically on display for the whole world to see. The deathly twist in his gut intensifies the more he ponders on what may have happened during Seokminâs visit. Wonwoo desperately wants to stop thinking about the possibilities, especially because your lack of clothing only fueled that inferno inside his mind.Â
Heâs never been more annoyed at Seokmin in his entire life, not until today.Â
Wonwoo allowed himself to ignore the signs, but only for a moment. But this, this he canât ignore. Not after what he witnessed. He allowed himself to stay ignorant when it came to your silence because he had been so naive to think that it was your decision. Now that he knows Seokmin had somehow weaselled his way closer to you, Wonwoo had to make sure this plan of his didnât go on any longer.Â
âŠ
There is a heat inside Wonwoo that, for some reason, he cannot extinguish. The curve and outlines of your body burn in the back of his retinas. No matter how many times heâs tried to put himself to sleep, the image of you is clear as day in his mind. Sparks crawl their way up his spine, and he desperately wishes that it would just go away.Â
Thereâs a point where Wonwoo gave up on trying to sleep altogether. Thoughts of you, your body, and the oh-so-painful reminder that youâre still ignoring him. How can he sleep with everything going on? What made things worse, was the fact that the one person he wanted to call most likely wouldnât pick up.
Wonwoo wasnât the type of person to let his emotions get the better of him, but this abrupt rift that has been torn between you two has him acting out in ways heâs never acted before.Â
The urge to grab his phone, to text you, to give it one more try, grows perpetually every second he lies awake.Â
One more time. One more attempt. What does he have to lose?Â
Wonwoo stands up, pacing around nonsensically, trying to think of what to say. For all he knows, you may not even answer, but there is the urge to hear your voice one more time and see your name pop up on his screen. Wonwoo yearns for you so much so that it supersedes any part of common sense he has left in him.Â
[12:52 a.m.]Â [wons <3: darling. can we talk? please?]Â [not delivered]Â
The silence within the four walls of Wonwooâs bedroom is harrowing. Out of all the outcomes he had considered before he texted you, the outcome of you blocking him was not even on the list.Â
Before jumping to some sort of conclusion, Wonwooâs finger hovers over the call button with skepticism. If you donât pick up, then thatâs it. That would be the definitive answer to all his qualms.Â
âThe number you have called is not available, please leave a message at the tone,â an automated voice affirmed his suspicions.Â
The notification is gut-wrenching, but he canât just sit here and pretend like itâs okay for you to do this. To decide without any of his input. What kind of friend were you to just drop him like he was nothing but an old toy? How unfair did you have to be to not even try to talk it out before you completely cut him off?Â
five.Â
Pacing outside the door of your apartment, Wonwoo hasnât been this nervous in years. He has always been so sure of himself, but itâs almost two in the morning and heâs still continuing to weigh his options.Â
Itâs either youâll let him in, and talk for the first time in almost two weeks, or youâll kick him out before he can step a foot past the door. Desperately, he desires that it be the first option. Losing you over this would break him, and not in the way you would expect.Â
Heâs already lost his mind. This shouldnât be the way you two break it off. It wonât be the way you two break it off. Not if Wonwoo has a say in the situation.Â
Sweaty palms and white knuckles rasp against the dark oak that barricades himself from you. Thereâs nothing that Wonwoo wants more than to see your face glowing in front of him. And before he can even get a word out to you, the door whips open. The person on the other side is someone Wonwoo is starting to get really sick of seeing.Â
âWhat the hell are you doing here?â Both Wonwoo and Seokmin speak in unison.Â
Scoffing, Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his so-called friend, âI think I should be asking you that. You clearly donât live here.âÂ
âMinnie? Is someone at the door?â your voice is as sweet as a glass of lemonade on a hot summerâs day.Â
Minnie. Wonwoo almost threw up in his mouth.Â
Minnie. The nickname is parallel to nails scraping against a chalkboard.Â
âYeah! Your neighbour just needed to borrow something,â Seokmin goads through a sickly sweet smile, eyes never leaving Wonwooâs. Without as much as a word of mockery, Seokminâs expression had said more than his words ever could have.Â
Despite his soft demeanour, Wonwoo knew there was something vile hiding under Seokminâs thick skin.Â
A rebuttal to his deception is on the tip of Wonwooâs tongue, but your melodic voice echoes throughout your home once more. The refute dies within his throat, and he hopes you will come out and see what your âneighbourâ is looking for.Â
âOkay!â is the only response you give out. The reverberation of the water hitting the shower tiles causes Wonwooâs stomach to practically lurch out his abdomen.Â
âWhatever youâre doing, sheâs not gonna fall for it,â Wonwoo jeered, staring at Seokmin with looks that should kill, if he could.Â
Seokmin chuckles bitterly, âShe already has.âÂ
There was no need for Wonwoo to put two and two together; he already knew what Seokmin was alluding to. It left a dreadful taste in his mouth.Â
Puffing out his chest, Wonwoo takes a step closer towards the man he once considered a close friend. Sizing him up, he knew that Seokmin was the reason for the wedge in your friendship. And Wonwoo had no problem treating him as such.Â
âYouâre fucking sick, you know that?â Wonwoo practically spits in his face.Â
âI could say the same thing for you,â Seokmin mutters, unperturbed, âI didnât have to do anything you know? Just a little push and she fell into my lap, voluntarily.âÂ
âIâm not just going to let you get away with something like this. Sheâs my best friend.âÂ
âI think the correct tense is was. She was your best friend,â Seokmin taunted.Â
He was wrong about Seokmin. Even though he had known about his friend's crush on you for years, Wonwoo didnât expect the lengths Seokmin would go to in order to cut him out of the picture.Â
Before a breath could even escape his lips, Seokmin cuts him off, âI think itâs time for you to leave. She doesnât want to see you.â
The last few words that he heard come out of Seokminâs mouth nearly fell on deaf ears. It was practically a whisper, laced with enough malice to almost kill the fighting spirit inside him. Almost.Â
âBy the way, donât text her anymore. Iâve made sure she wonât get any more notifications from you.âÂ
The realization had struck Wonwoo hard. He knew you well enough that you wouldnât just block him so carelessly, without a word no less. Yet he was no match for Seokmin, not after the fact that you allowed him into your home, your heart, so willingly.Â
âŠ
Lying in wait, Wonwoo observes the door of your building once more. The distinct difference this time was that Wonwoo had no guilt left in him to care. Whether you see him or his car across the street didnât matter to him anymore. The only thing Wonwoo wanted to make sure of was whether or not Seokmin would be leaving your place.Â
After what had felt like hours, he watched the same scene from last night unfold in front of him once more. The abhorrent hug goodbye that is exchanged between you and Seokmin is nothing but a cue for Wonwoo to make his move.
With as much grace as a bull in a china shop, he slams the car door shut, not even bothering to lock it before he stalks his way to your apartment. The anticipation caused the hairs on his neck to stand straight up. As he presses the button to your floor, he can only deliberate whether any of Seokminâs words hold any truth behind them.
 Certainly not, right? Not after all the years you spent together. His friendship with you couldnât end on this vague note. You were always the sentimental type, holding onto trinkets, memories, and even people for far too long. It should be the same with Wonwoo; he believed it would be the same.Â
If there is a chance, you should allow him to talk and voice his opinion. No, Wonwoo will voice his opinion; there has never been a time when you havenât let him speak.Â
As the elevator ascends to your floor, anxiety begins to weigh down his shoulders. The feeling is atypical and Wonwoo hates how his throat constricts. He hates how his clothes feel too tight and stuffy despite his casual attire. Is this how it feels? To actually care about someone and whether their decisions might affect him later on?Â
Footsteps echo within the hallway, and with each step he takes, the illusion steadily becomes more vivid. Your front door almost looks like itâll take a mile before Wonwoo can reach it, rather than a few feet away.Â
After what felt like years, Wonwoo stands before the entrance of your home once more. The foreboding tension wonât vanish and itâs starting to make him itch. Without another thought, Wonwoo forces himself to knock on the door knowing itâll be you who answers this time, not Seokmin.Â
âMinnie? Did you leave something agaiâ,â Abrupt silence engulfs your words, leaving nothing but an echo to resonate within the expanse of your long hallway.
âWonwooâŠâ your voice falters, like you genuinely didnât expect to see him, let alone have him standing outside your door.Â
âDid you fuck him?â Wonwoo cuts to the chase, not leaving any room for you to ask questions.Â
His blunt words caused a frown to grace your soft pink lips, and Wonwoo almost felt bad for being so frank. But he doesnât have time to beg for your forgiveness, the anger surmounting to nothing but harsh words and a push past you and into your home.Â
âDid you fuck him? Yes or no?â Wonwoo continues to press you for answers, agitated that you have the audacity to stand there dumbfounded. As if you donât know who he's talking about. âCâmon, you know who Iâm talking about,â he can almost laugh at the situation in front of him.Â
How is it that all the rage he built up for Seokmin is being taken out on you? Wonwoo had no clue, but the thought of his friend-now-enemy defiling you, tasting you, while Wonwoo desperately waited for your call caused him to direct all his anger to you. Perhaps itâs undeserving to do so, but Wonwooâs frustration spoke for him before his brain could even register what he was saying.Â
âThe past two weeks youâve been ignoring me, spending your time with him, do you know where his true intentions lie?â Wonwoo continues to rant with unpreparedness.Â
He didnât plan what he was going to say because there was a moment of doubt, he had expected you to open the door just to slam it right back in his face. The look you gave him almost brought him to his knees. Your doe-eyed expression couldâve broken down every wall heâs built if only he hadnât let his anger proceed him.Â
Wonwoo shouldâve cried, to plead for you to take him back. To go back to the way things were. He knew he fucked up the moment he uttered a single word. The hurt flashed across your face as though Wonwoo turned your world upside down.Â
âSeokmin doesnât care about you, and Iâll tell you that now because you need to hear it. He just wants to fuck you! And you just gave that to him?â He canât stop talking.Â
âStop. Just stop fucking talking Wonwoo. Do you hear yourself right now?â You cut off his rant. âOut of all people, who gave you the right to tell me who I can and cannot fuck? Especially knowing the type of person that you are. It doesnât matter if Seokmin and I had sex. What matters is the fact that you think you can barge in here at two-thirty in the morning interrogating me over a situation that doesnât involve you.âÂ
âNo. Iâm just trying to help you. Seokmin isnât the person that you think he is,â Wonwoo seethes, annoyed at how youâre twisting his words.Â
The bile in his throat rose further, as you stood before him like he had just kicked your dog. Wonwooâs extremely aware of the hole he had dug for himself, but he couldnât stop. His urge to self-sabotage overrides his common sense.Â
âThat is exactly what weâre not going to do right now. Seokmin has been a better friend to me than you have been in all the years weâve known each other. I have been by your side for years, bending over backwards. I was at your beck and call and Iâm tired. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and warn myself about you. I fell in love with my best friend, and the worst part was that you didnât care enough to notice.Â
âI gave up so much for you, Wonwoo. I lost myself trying to please you. But I give up. I was drowning in my love for you. It consumed every part of me to the point I couldnât even come up for air. And Iâm just sick of it. I know thereâs a part of you that cares about me too, but itâll never be equal. Iâll always love you more than you love me, and I donât want to feel this way anymore.âÂ
âWhat hurts me the most, is that you thought it would be okay to accuse me of things I didnât even do. I did not sleep with Seokmin, but why is that what you care about? He respects me and just wants to be there for me. And thatâs a lot more than I could ever say about you.âÂ
Your voice was terrifyingly calm, with neither a lilt nor a hiccup during your speech. The heft of your declaration crashed back down onto Wonwoo, leaving him at a loss for words.Â
âIâm sorry,â is the first thing to come out of his mouth after a long pause.Â
âPlease. Itâs late, you should go home,â you sigh, but Wonwoo couldnât move an inch. He refused.Â
âIâm sorry,â he repeats himself, looking into your eyes, searching for the look of endearment you had always given him.Â
âWonwooâŠâ there it is. Your voice had broken for the first time since Wonwoo stepped foot in the place.Â
âPlease. Iâm so fucking sorry. For getting angry, for doubting you, for not realizing how badly you were hurting,â Wonwoo resorted to pleading.Â
A look of desperation mixed with agony was the only thing you could exchange for his apologies.
The stare of grief you had given him caused a shooting pain to swell throughout his limbs. The one that begins at his fingertips, creeping up to tug at the strings that held his heart together. He wanted this nightmare to end, and he was sure you did too.Â
âItâs time for you to go. Iâm tired, Wonwoo.â A single tear slips and trickles down your cheek.Â
He regrets not wiping it away for you at that moment. It was the first time he had been so unsure of his actions. So, instead, he walked out of your apartment, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of his cologne and a piece of his heart.Â
Wonwoo's world was crumbling underneath him, and there was only one person he refused to let go of. He shouldâve known.
He shouldâve known that you were in front of him this whole damn time.
end of act one.
âč a/n: if you liked this story pls dont be afraid to let me know thru a reblog, comment or ask! also a big ty to my beshies forever @vapidlynn and @bunnyjjongie who i've texted multiple times in the wee hours of the morning for reassurance abt this thing hehe.
#jeon wonwoo#seventeen smut#wonwoo smut#svthub#Hiraya-M#thediamondlifenetwork#seventeen fic#wonwoo x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic#svt fic#svt smut#svt fanfic#wonwoo#seventeen scenarios#seventeen angst#wonwoo fanfic#wonwoo seventeen#svt imagines
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Take My Love and Wear It
SYNOPSIS: Taking care of Charles has its own special challenges, but you didnât expect the hardest one to be the man who hired you. Distant, gruff and rough around the edges, Logan still manages to worm his way under your skin. But youâve worked your way under his, too.Â
PAIRING: Old Man Logan x fem!reader
WC: 10.8kÂ
WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; swearing; non-explicit mentions of wounds, blood and use of stitches; extreme physical pain; Charles is a lovable, meddling little shit; fluff sprinkled in for good measure; Logan in a tub (if I had a nickel for every time I bathed him, Iâd have two nickelsâwhich isnât a lot, but its weird it happened twice, right); touch-starved Logan; handjobs; shower sex; fingering; dirty talk; oral (f receiving); sex with feelings; unprotected p in v; creampie
A/N: Thereâs something special about Old Man Logan, isnât there? Old and grumpy and desperately in need of some love and affection. I know the Charles caregiver story has been done before, but I couldnât get this idea out of my head. And then Charles starting talking in my head and well...it blossomed into this. As always, thank you to @joelsgoldrush for allowing me to send her snippets of this as I went along and offering her love, support and suggestions. I hope you enjoy this and any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!
You stare down at the remnants of yesterdayâs cold and congealed dinner and sigh. Scraping the food into the trash, you resist the urge to pack everything you have and leave.Â
One month.Â
One month of helping Charlesâmaking his meals, washing his clothes, giving him his meds, making sure he doesnât hurt himself (or others), assisting with daily tasksâand Logan still regards you as a nuisance, like a gnat needing to be swatted away.Â
At best, he ignores you, moving around the house as if you donât exist.Â
And at worst, he treats you with barely concealed contempt, his scowl deepening the lines of his face whenever heâs around you. As if youâre invading his space uninvited even though heâs the one that sought out help.Â
You grip the edge of the sink, staring down into the porcelain basin as if it holds some hidden answers. Every day youâve tried to break through walls Loganâs built around himself, held onto Charlesâ promise that eventually heâll soften, just give him time, but he only seems to have grown more hostile. And youâve done nothing to incur his ire besides watching him come home every day battered and bruised, his very bones weary with exhaustion, and offering your assistance.
Part of you is angryâangry that you care so much when your main focus is supposed to be Charles. Angry that despite all his efforts to come across unapproachable and cold, Loganâs worked himself under your skin and takes a little piece of you with him whenever he leaves.Â
Angry that somehow heâs stolen a piece of your heart.Â
You hear shuffling behind you and turn to find Logan entering the kitchen, fingers fastening the last buttons on his dress shirt. âWhat?â he asks gruffly and for a moment you wonder if he can read your thoughts.
You straighten and meet his gaze head on, swallowing down your nervousness. âHow much longer are we going to keep doing this, Logan?â
âDoing what?â
âThis,â you say, gesturing between you. âYou walking around here like Iâm some stain upon your life, acting like Iâm a problem when all Iâve ever done is try and help.â Your voice is steadier than you feel. âYou asked for me to be here, Logan. Itâs not like I barged in here without permission.â
Logan holds your gaze, his jaw tight, and for a moment you think heâs going to grab his keys and leave, head off into the night and drive until sunrise. His eyes soften for just a moment, something like regret crossing his features.Â
âI know why youâre here. And I doâŠappreciate it,â he says, his words coming out low and rough. As if the words taste foreign in his mouth.Â
âWouldnât kill you to show it,â you challenge.
Youâre waiting for him to lash out and instead he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. âLook, Iâm not good at this.â
âIâm not asking you to bow at my feet,â you say, hoping to ease some of the tension in the air. âAlthough, I wouldnât be mad about it.â You think you see the briefest hint of a smile flicker across his face. âI just want us to be able to live in the same space. Iâm here to help, Logan. Let me.â
âYou have no idea how hard this life is.â
A rueful smile tugs at your lips. âI understand more than you think I do.â
Loganâs gaze sharpens, inquisitive as he searches your face, as if heâs trying to decipher the meaning behind your words. He rubs a hand across his face, scratching lightly as his beard. âIâve gotta couple jobs tonight. Maybe more,â he finally says, changing the conversation. âShould be back before sunrise.â
You nod, his switch in topic not lost on you, but you donât push him. âAlright,â you say softly. âJustâjust take it easy, okay?â
He glances down at you, relief softening his gaze and you know a part of him is grateful you didnât push further.Â
Grabbing his keys, Logan heads towards the door but pauses just before heâs about to leave. He turns to look back over his shoulder. âThanks,â he murmurs, the word awkward on his lips.Â
You give him a small nod of encouragement as he slips out the door. He may not be ready to full open up, but you feel as if he extended a tiny olive branch tonight, cracked open the door just enough to let you peek in.
+++
Over the following weeks, Loganâs a little less avoidant. He doesnât go out of his way to make conversationâyou didnât expect him toâbut he at least as acknowledges your presence. Small nods and murmured goodbyes when he leaves and sleepy hellos when he returns. Itâs not much, but youâll take it.Â
Youâre cleaning the last of the dishes from dinner, Charles safely settled in front of the TV watching an old movie when Logan comes home. Heâs earlier than you anticipated, but exhaustion lines his face nonetheless. You expect him to slip away quietly, but he pauses instead, lingering in the doorway.Â
âSmells good,â he says softly, nodding towards the pan of half eaten lasagna still sitting on the counter.Â
Surprised, you turn around to face him. You brush the hair from your face and say, âSit. Iâll make you up some.âÂ
Logan hesitates and for a moment you think heâs about to decline, but then he nods, his shoulders dropping slightly as he sits down at the table. You fix him up a plate, setting it down in front of him with a bottle of beer as you slide into the chair across from him. Â
He tucks quietly into the food, his fork scraping against his plate as he eats, pausing only to wash it down with a few swigs of beer. You watch him, a strange satisfaction tugging at you at the sight of him actually sitting down, enjoying a meal with you, even if it is in silence.Â
âLong day?â you ask quietly, gesturing towards his bruised knuckles.
He flexes the fingers on his free hand before tucking them under the table. âNothinâ I canât handle,â he mutters, taking another bite of lasagna. âTheyâll be gone in a day or two.â
You know not that long ago an injury like that wouldnât have even marred his skin. Now, the simplest of wounds can take days to heal and itâs not the appearance of his skin that bothers you, but the newfound ache he experiences, the heaviness of constant pain.
You want to help him, ease his discomfort, like you know you could. But you know heâs not ready for that. Not yet.
âYouâre good with Charles,â Logan says then, his gaze steady on his plate. âHe seems calmer around you.â
Loganâs admission is so unexpected, you find yourself staring at him in disbelief. At your silence, his eyes flicker up to yours and you see more than simple acknowledgement in his expression. Itâs subtle, but itâs there, a current of something more, something youâre not quite sure how to address.
âThank you,â you murmur, your voice softer than you intended. âCharlesâhe means a lot to me.â You pause briefly, but something compels you to continue. âYou both do.â
His gaze is focused on you and you donât miss the flicker of surprise that breaks through his usual stoic expression. Clearing his throat, he looks down, pushing around the last bit of lasagna on his plate and then after a moment, he sets his fork down and leans back in his chair. âYou mean a lot to him, too,â Logan finally says and you wonder if heâs talking about more than just Charles.
From the living room you hear Charles call for you, his voice soft but insistent. The moment between you still crackles as you stand from the table and as you begin to walk away, Logan reaches for your hand. His fingers are warm and rough against your skin and youâre barely able to suppress your shiver.Â
âThank you,â Logan says, his voice surprisingly soft.Â
His grip against your skin is gentle, a stark contrast to all his roughness and you can feel the weight of his unspoken words curling around you. Charles calls again, his voice breaking through the moment, but Loganâs hand lingers just a beat longer before he lets go, fingers trailing along your skin.Â
+++
âHe likes you, you know.â
You glance up from shaving Charlesâ face and find him staring at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. You give a soft hum. âDid he tell you that or did you read his mind?â
Charles scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. âWhatâs the difference, dear?âÂ
You chuckle, shaking your head as you rinse the razor. âWith Logan Iâm pretty sure thereâs a big difference.â
âBah, if Logan wanted to keep me out of his head, he would. Stubborn man.â He tsks softly to himself and shakes his head. âBut, no my dear, he can be quite loud if you know how to listen.â
You raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. âLoud, huh? And what exactly is that brain of his telling you?â
Charles gives you a knowing smile. âOh, just little things,â he says casually with a wave of his hand, but you can tell by the look on his face that heâs holding back. âHe notices youâwhat you do for me, this place, for him. He may not realize it himself, but his thoughts linger on you more often than heâd like.â
A flicker of hope sparks in your chest and despite yourself, you feel a blush creeping into your cheeks. âLogan doesnât strike me as the sentimental type.â
âLogan has spent so much of his life running,â Charles continues, his tone and expression growing more thoughtful. âThe loss heâs experienced has led him to believe itâs better to be alone than form meaningful connections with people. But youâve somehow become something of a home for him. And he doesnât quite know what to make of that.â
Your heart skips a beat as you take in his words. The idea of being a home for Logan, a comfort, feels surreal, and yet...thereâs a part of you that dares to hope what Charles is saying is true. That this isnât some fictional truth his brain has concocted, a product of his disease riddled mind.Â
âHome.â You repeat the word softly to yourself, testing the word on your own tongue as if it might shatter into pieces.
Charles nods, his hand reaching for yours, his gaze warm and knowing. âYes, home. He feels it, deep down, in a way thatâs unfamiliar and frightening for him.â
You glance down at your hand in Charlesâ grasp, his touch grounding you as his words settle over you.Â
âLoganâs spent so long hiding from himself,â Charles continues. âI think heâs convinced himself he doesnât deserve that kind of peace.â
âAnd you think I can give him that peace?â you ask quietly, your eyes flicking back up to Charlesâ face.
He smiles knowingly and gives your hand a squeeze. âYou already have, dear.â
+++
âWant some help?â
You turn to find Logan standing in the entrance of the kitchen, hands tucked into his pockets.
Itâs a rare nightâone where Loganâs chosen to stay home, taking a night off from the almost endless driving he does. Heâs dressed down, well worn jeans and a button-up flannel, and for once you actually think he looks comfortable.
You smile, surprised, but happy to see him there. âSure, the company would be nice,â you reply as he comes to stand next to you. âWant to wash and dice the potatoes?â
Logan nods and rolls up his sleeves before reaching for the bowl of potatoes you had set aside earlier. You watch him for a moment as he settles into the task with a quiet focus.Â
âSmells good,â he comments, gesturing towards the oven. âWhatâre we having?â
âCharles has been asking for beef tenderloin for weeks now, so Iâm finally indulging him.â You finish trimming the last of the green beans and toss them into the bowl beside you. âYou know, if you have any favorite meals youâd like me to make, you can tell me.â
Logan pauses and glances at you as he shuts off the tap. He clears his throat and says, âYou already are.â
You blink in surprise as Loganâs words sink in and then the realization dawns on you. A soft smile spreads across your face as you piece together the extent of Charlesâ meddling. You canât find it in you to be annoyed and only feel a mix of amusement and fondness towards the old man as you chuckle softly to yourself.
âWhatâs so funny?â Logan asks, raising his eyebrow as he catches your expression.
âOh, nothing,â you say, waving him off with a smile.Â
Logan doesnât look convinced, but he doesnât pry as he picks up the knife and begins to deftly dice the potatoes. You watch him for a moment, captivated by the simple domesticity of the task. Itâs in direct contrast to the man youâve seen numerous times before, brooding and gruff, brimming with an almost untamed violence.Â
It suits him, you think, this quieter version of himself.
You both finish the prep with relative ease. He helps you set the table as the rest of the food cooks, plates clinking softly as he sets them down. You busy yourself with finishing the green beans in a garlic butter as you wait for for the tenderloin to rest enough to carve into.Â
âAh, my dear, this smells wonderful,â Charles announces as he rolls into the kitchen, a warm smile on his face. âAnd you managed to pull Logan out of his room. What a treat.â
Logan snorts in response, giving Charles a pointed glare.
âI dare say itâs because the company has improved much as of late,â Charles says, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he glances between the both of you. âWe all know heâs not out here for my benefit.â
You laugh as you bring the dishes to the table, noting the faintest of blushes creeping along Loganâs cheeks. âIâll take that as a compliment, Charles.â
âAs you should, dear. Your personality is quite sparkling.â He looks over towards Logan. âIsnât it, Logan?â
Loganâs eyes land on you as he answers, âYes. Yes, it is.â
Dinner begins quietly, the three of you settling into easy conversation as the first few bites are consumed. Both Charles and Logan hum in delight and a warmth blooms within you watching them both. Thisâthis is the simplicity youâve been craving with Logan.
As the meal continues, Charles launches into his usual repertoire of stories, those of the school and his students, his words brimming with nostalgia and pride as he talks. Logan sits back in his chair, arms crossed as he listens to him speak, shaking his head fondly at some of the memories.
âYou know,â Charles begins, setting his fork down with an air of mischief, âI donât think I ever told you how I met Logan, have I?â
Loganâs head snaps up. âDonât, Chuck.â
But Charles is already smiling at you, ignoring Loganâs warning. âItâs a good story, dear. See, Logan had quite the career as an underground cage fighter.â
You lift your brows in surprise and you glance over at Logan, whoâs thoroughly unamused by Charlesâ choice of topic. âCage fighting, huh?â you ask, unable to suppress your curiosity.Â
Logan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stabbing at his potatoes with a little more force than necessary. âIt wasnât a career,â he mutters. âJust a distraction. Way to get by.â
âMmm, yes, perhaps,â Charles chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. âRegardless of the reason, it lead you to this exact moment. Didnât it, Logan?â
Logan narrows his eyes at Charles, though the glare is only half-hearted. âYou make it sound like all it all had some grand purpose.â
âDid it not?â Charles says gently, his tone shifting into something more serious. âKept you alive, for one. But more than that, it brought you to us. To me.â He pauses for a moment, his eyes darting towards you. âTo her.â
The words hang in the air and you glance over at Logan, whose expression softens just slightly. Without thinking, you reach across the table and give his forearm a gentle squeeze. His eyes meet yours, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.
Charles watches the exchange with quiet satisfaction before clearing his throat. âWell, I believe my work here is done,â he announces, wheeling himself back from he table. âLogan, fancy a game of chess? I havenât made a player out of her yet.â
You laugh to yourself as Logan follows Charles into the living room. After clearing the kitchen from dinner and loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, you join them both in the living room. Tucking yourself into the couch, you read while the two of them play, the clinking of wooden chess pieces and the occasional dry quip from Charles filling the room.
From your spot on the couch, you glance up from your book every now and then to watch them. Loganâs brow furrows in concentration, while Charlesâ face is more relaxed as they play. You smile to yourself, wondering how often they played like this in the past, when times were simpler.
Youâre not sure when you fell asleep or how long youâve been out, but youâre jostled awake as two large, warm arms wrap around you, holding you close as youâre lifted off the couch. Loganâs familiar scentâcigar smoke and pineâfill your nose and you blink up to find him walking you down the hall towards your room.
âLogan?â you mumble, voice thick with sleep. âDâyou really cage fight?â
Logan chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. âI really did.â
âDid it hurt?â
âNo.â
You blink slowly, your sleep-laden mind struggling to process his answer. âNot even a little?â Your voice is barely audible as you nestle closer into the warmth of his chest.
âNot in the way you think,â he answers, nudging open the door to your room with his foot.
Youâre too drowsy to ask what he means and instead you hum softly, a noncommittal sound that Logan feels more than hears. Lowering you onto the bed, he moves with a gentleness youâve never felt from him before. He brushes a strand of hair from your face and pulls the blanket over you before he turns to leave.
Your limbs are heavy, eyes barely open, but you call out softlyââLogan?â
He looks back towards you. âYeah?â
âIâm glad Charles found you,â you murmur, closing your eyes.
Logan doesnât answer, but you swear you feel the lightest of kisses against the top of your head before he leaves.
+++
Itâs deep into the night when you hear the front door finally open. Your heart flutters against your ribs as you swing out of bed, unsure of what condition youâll find him in. He was expected back two days ago, those extra hours away feeling like an unfathomable eternity.Â
You find him sitting at the kitchen table, dress shirt hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his clothes rumpled and bloodied. A large gash oozes from his shoulder and you canât stop the gasp that falls from your lips.Â
Logan looks up at you, eyes narrowed and lined with exhaustion. âDonât look at me like that,â he grunts, tugging off the rest of his shirt.Â
âHow else am I supposed to look at you?â you ask, taking a tentative step forward. âNo phone call or text letting me know youâre not coming home and then you waltz in after midnight soaked in blood and covered in wounds.â Unshed tears burn in your eyes but you will yourself not to cry.Â
âDidnât ask you to care about me,â he bites back, but his tone is more weary than argumentative.Â
âOh, fuck you, Logan,â you snip, but your tone lacks venom.
He ignores you, pushing up from the chair with a heavy groan and limps over towards the cabinets. He shuffles through one of them, pulling out the makeshift sewing kit before sitting back down. You watch as he attempts to thread the needle, growing increasingly frustrated when he keeps missing.Â
Shoving down your own frustration, you pull up a chair next to him and reach for the needle and thread. He pulls his hands away from you, turning in the chair to keep you away. You chase after his movements, finally grabbing his wrists and removing the supplies from his grasp.
âI donât need your help,â he growls.Â
You sigh, tired of this same argument, this same endless loop every time he comes home injured. âGoddamit, Logan, just let me help you.â
He drags his gaze up to yours, eyes tracing the lines of your face. His chest still heaves with heavy breaths, but you can see the anger bleed from him. He nods once, turning just enough so that you have access to his wound. Threading the needle, you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, ignoring the flinch he gives at your touch.Â
âIâm not going to hurt you,â you whisper.Â
Logan huffs. âItâs a needle, darlinâ. Itâs not gonna feel nice.â
You try to ignore the flip your heart does at his use of the word darling. Despite his earlier gruffness and proclivity to push you away, Logan has softened to you over the last couple of months. Since that first dinner you shared, heâs joined you and Charles more often. Or if he comes home late, sought out the leftovers youâve kept for him. Heâs engaged in conversation, offering small pieces of himself, pieces that youâve cradled close and nurtured.Â
But thereâs a tension between you, thick and heavy in the air, and you wonder if he feels it too. Feels that same undeniable pull youâve always felt in his presence. Youâd like to think so, otherwise you were doomed to love him silently, your feelings for him bound in the quiet of your mind.
âJust trust me,â you say.Â
Slowly, you release your power, warmth spreading from your fingertips, easing his pain and discomfort as you begin to stitch him up. You try to ignore the heavy press of his gaze on your face and you can almost hear his unspoken thoughts, his words still stuck on his tongue.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â he asks, his shoulder relaxing as you continue to work.
You glance up at him then, finding his expression softer than youâve seen it. âA mutant is a dangerous thing to be, Logan,â you answer, your voice soft. âFew people know what I can do. Those I trust.â
For a long moment, Logan just looks at you, his eyes unreadable. Then, a rough, tired sigh falls from his lips. âYou coulda told me.â
You take a steadying breath, his words lingering in the space between you. âMaybe,â you say, your fingers brushing against his skin as you continue to stitch. âBut you donât make it easy to talk to you.â
Logan lets out a low huff. âNo. I guess I donât, do I?â
You finish the last stitch, securing the knot. Your fingers linger a touch long than necessary, the warmth of his skin a comfort youâre loathe to lose just yet. Slowly, you lift your gaze to his and you feel your heart beat solidly against your ribs as he looks back at you like heâs seeing something there he hadnât allowed himself to before.Â
Loganâs voice is low when he finally speaks. âWhy you keep stickinâ around? Watchinâ me come home time after time covered in blood?â
âBecause you deserve it.â The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. âEven if you donât see that.â
He doesnât respond, not right away, as he continues to watch you, his eyes tracing the lines of your face. Then he reaches up for you, fingers curling around your wrist, his skin warm and rough against yours. He holds you there as if grounding himself in your presence, his thumb drawing random patterns against your skin. The gesture is simple, but vulnerable and open in a way he rarely shows.
âIâm no good for you,â he murmurs, glancing down at where heâs touching you. âFor anybody.â
âHow âbout you let me be the judge of that?â you answer, your voice steady. âYouâre more than you think you are.â
Logan clenches his jaw, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features, and you know deep below the surface heâs waging a war against himself, one heâs been fighting for far too long. His thumb stills on your wrist, his grip loosening slightly, but not letting go.Â
Placing your hand over his, you give him a soft smile. âCâmon, letâs get you cleaned up.â
+++
Youâre surprised that he doesnât argue, doesnât try to brush you off or push you away as you gently nudge him towards the bathroom. He still gives you a dubious glance as he looks down at the tub, but you just ignore it, moving past him to run the tap.
You give him privacy to undress and get settled before you reenter the bathroom. The sight of him, as large as he his with his knees pulled up to his chest, makes you laugh, garnishing a terse look from him.
âYou find this amusing?â
âBig man in a little tub? Yeah, I do,â you reply with a smile. âJust relax, Logan. Thisâll be our secret.â
He huffs, but does seem to visibly relax, resting his arms over his knees. You kneel down in front of him, resting one hand gently against his forearm as your other reaches for the washcloth. You can feel the tension release from his muscles as your power floods through him and he breathes out a soft, âOh,â as all the pain and discomfort is eased from his body.
You wonder how long itâs truly been since heâs felt like this, unburdened by the pain and suffering of his own body. Your heart aches for him as you slowly begin to wash him, rubbing soft circles over the scarred flesh of his back, rinsing away the blood dried to his skin.Â
Even battered and marred as he is, you still find him beautifulâyou always have. When you first started working with him all those months ago, you felt that pang of attraction when you met him, youâd have been blind not to. Ruggedly handsome, so strong and sure of himself. But you know that wasnât all that drew you to him. Deep down, below all the tough, seemingly impenetrable exterior, you saw the man he truly was. Someone born of scars and rough edges, yet gentle. Someone who would selflessly put himself before others, even at his own expense.Â
You let the cloth linger a moment longer against his skin before dipping it back into the water, watching as his blood rinses from the fabric. Squeezing the excess water out, you press it back against his collarbone, tracing the warm cloth along his neck and over his shoulders. Logan doesnât move, his eyes half-closed, his expression relaxed in a way youâve never seen before.
Something deep tugs at you as you realize how vulnerable he is right now, how trusting. He hides behind a gruff exterior, his true self guarded so carefully so that he doesnât let people in, doesnât open himself up to the hurt that trusting another person can bring. But maybe youâve finally cracked through, broken down a little bit of that wall he surrounds himself with.
The warm water drips from his skin as you continue to wash him, letting your fingers trail gently along the newly cleaned lines of his arms. Logan shivers at your touch, but he doesnât pull away. If anything, he seems to lean into it, his breathing deepening, muscles falling even more slack.Â
âFeel nice?â you ask in a murmur, voice barely above a whisper.
He nods, finally glancing up at you through his half-lidded gaze. ââS very nice,â he replies, his voice rough.
âGood. You deserve it,â you say, repeating your sentiment from earlier.
You feel a flicker of warmth as his eyes meet yours and he simply nods. It takes everything in you to not smile too widely, to keep the moment gentle, but you take his acceptance to heart.Â
Running the cloth down his ribs, you pause when you feel the misshapen knot of a bruise beneath your fingers and glancing down, you find a deep purple hue coloring his skin. Your eyes dart to his with worry, knowing that an injury like that will take him at least a week to heal, if not longer, in his weakened state. That with every breath heâll feel the pain of his muscles pulling and the bruise spreading if youâre not touching him.
Dropping the washcloth in the water, you press your palm against his side and take in a deep breath to steady yourself. Then, a warmth spreads from your skin into his as you pull his injury from him, feeling his skin knit back together, feeling his abused muscles realign themselves under his skin. A dull, yet sharp ache, blooms along your ribs as you continue to pull his pain into yourself, erasing the injury from his body. With a final gasp, you draw back, your fingers now running along unmarred flesh knitted whole.Â
Logan tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze as the back of his knuckles brush against your cheek. His eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze, and for a moment, the room falls into a deep quiet.
That pull between you, the magnetic force that youâve felt since the beginning, feels amplified now. Youâre acutely aware of every inch of space between youâhow small it is, how easy it would be to close it. How badly you want to close it. You swallow, feeling the tension coil in your belly as he continues to hold your gaze, unblinking, but more open and raw than heâs ever been before.
âWhat are you doing to me?â he asks.
Your breath catches in your throat at his question, voice rough and laced with something between wonder and disbelief. As if he canât quite fathom what youâve done for himâwhat youâve given him so freely.
Loganâs eyes search yours, his fingers drifting from your cheek to trace along your jaw, lingering with a tenderness that belies the man he presents to the outside world. His gaze is steady and intimate, as if heâs trying to understand you in a way that goes beyond words. But you say nothing, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears to form a reply.
âYou took it on yourself, my pain?â
You simply nod, distracted by the way Loganâs fingers continue to brush along the edge of your ear, tracing the lines of your face as if heâs afraid youâll vanish if he lets go.Â
âWhy?â
âBecause I want to,â you whisper, unable to resist the pull of his hand against your skin, the warmth of his touch that you feel with every fiber of your being. âBecause itâs the one thing I can do to help you.â
A beat of silence passes, the air thick and heavy with unspoken words. He exhales, shaky and deep, letting his hand slide to the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his fingers press gently against your skin, anchoring you in place and you can feel him pull you closer, his gaze dropping to your lips, his breath mingling with yours in the small, intimate space between you.
âI shouldnât want this, want you,â he says, voice so low itâs almost a rumble. âBut, fuck, I do.âÂ
His confession is raw, leaving him unguarded for the first time in a long time and before he can pull back, before he can throw those walls back up around himself, you close the gap, resting your forehead against his. You bring your hand up to touch his face, thumb brushing over his cheek as you breath him in, feeling the heat radiate between you.Â
Loganâs hand slides further along your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he finally, gently, presses his lips to yours. His kiss isnât demanding or rushed or filled with passion, but a lingering connection, the promise of something more. His lips are softer than you imagined, his touch more careful than you expected, as if heâs afraid heâll break you. Slowly, his thumb traces circles against your cheek, steadying and soothing, pulling you closer.Â
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. His breath is warm against your skin. âI donât wanna push you away anymore,â he murmurs.
âGood because I donât want you to.â
Logan lets out a breath, a hint of a smile finally softening his features.Â
Reluctantly, you pull away and pick the washcloth up again, intent on finishing what you started. The water turns to rust as you wash him of blood and grime, making sure you reach each cut, each bruise, each scar on his body that makes up the map of who he is.Â
You turn off the tap and hand him a towel, averting your eyes as he stands, wrapping the towel low across his hips. Logan reaches for you, tugging on the collar of your shirt to pull you closer. You stumble a bit as he pulls you in, surprised by the insistence in his grip. Loganâs eyes meet yours, an intensity behind his gaze that makes your breath catch.
âCâmere,â he murmurs, hand slipping along your jaw, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip.Â
Youâre drawn forward as Loganâs lips find yours again, but this time thereâs an urgency behind the kiss, a desperation and need heâs no longer trying to hide. He holds your face gently in his hands as he deepens the kiss, his nose pressing against yours, his beard scraping against your skin and you find yourself melting against him.
This is what youâve been craving since you met him. Despite it allâthe rage simmering just below his surface, the sharpness of his exterior, the sometimes shocking callousness of his wordsâyou always knew there was a tenderness underneath, a softness that even his tortured past couldnât erase.Â
Loganâs hands drift from your face, trailing down your neck and tracing along the curve of your spine as he presses you closer until thereâs no space between you. The dampness of his skin bleeds into your shirt and you gasp into his mouth when he shifts his hips just enough and you feel heat of his erection against your thigh.
He pulls away from your mouth long enough to husk against your lips, âIâm old, not dead.â His teeth nip lightly at your bottom lip. âIâve gotta beautiful woman lettinâ me kiss her, what did you expect?â
Your fingers trail along the edge of the towel slung low across this hips and a thrill runs through you as you feel his abdominal muscles flutter beneath your touch. You peer up at him, noting the flush of his skin, the black of his eyes as you tug the fabric just enough to loosen it. âHow long has it been since someone has touched you, Logan?â you ask, your breath warm in the space between you.
Loganâs hands urge your hips closer, seeking friction as he starts to slowly rut against your thigh. You hear him swallow as your fingers dip below the fabric, brushing along the damp hair at the base of his cock.Â
âFâfuck,â he groans, guttural and low, his head dropping down to your shoulder. âSince before you.â
The weight of Loganâs confession presses into you and in that moment you want to give him everything. Wrap him in all the love you can muster, show him something other than pain and suffering.Â
You move your hand from the towel, allowing the fabric to fall from his waist and pool forgotten on the floor. Loganâs breath catches as your fingers wrap around him fully, the heat and weight of his cock pressing against your palm.Â
A ragged groan escapes his throat. âChrist,â he mutters, voice thick and vibrating against your skin. âYou donât gottaââ
âI want to,â you interrupt, slowly and deliberately dragging your hand along his length, tracing the vein along the underside of his cock with your fingertips.
Loganâs hips jerk involuntarily, seeking friction, chasing your hand, and you oblige, tightening your grip just enough to elicit another groan from him.Â
âWhat do you like?â The question lands in the sliver of space between you, your strokes still light, teasing.
âFirmer, more ahââ He breaks off as you tighten your grip on the upstroke. âFuck, yes, like that, sweetheart.â
A shiver runs down your spine as his hands find your waist, fingers clutching at you almost hard enough to bruise. His breaths are growing uneven, each exhale warm against your neck as he fights to maintain some semblance of control.
âYou keep that up,â he rasps, lips grazing your ear, âand Iâm not gonna last long.â
His admission sends a rush of pride through you and you tilt your head back to look at him, your thumb brushing over the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the wetness there. Loganâs eyes meet yours, dark and heavy-lidded, his expression raw and unguarded. You like him like this, such a large, imposing man boiled down to pure wanton need.Â
âI donât mind,â you reply, keeping your movements steady, your strokes firm yet gentle. You focus on the subtle shifts in his breathing, the way his fingers grip you tighter each time you find the right rhythm. âJust wanna make you feel good, Logan.â
He leans forward, capturing your lips into a kiss thatâs both rough and messy, teeth nipping at your lip as his tongue licks into your mouth. He groans are muffled against your mouth as his hips begin to thrust in time with your strokes, his movements growing more erratic as he chases after his release.Â
âCanât believeâah, fuckâcanât believe how good youâre makinâ me feel,â he growls against your lips.
You smile into his mouth, your free hand brushing along his hipbone as your strokes quicken. His whole body tenses, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexing, his abdominal muscles taut as he teeters on the edge.
âLet go, Logan,â you say. âIâve got you.â
With a strangled groan, he comes, his release spilling over your hand, hot and thick. His body shudders against yours as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him close as he continues to thrust lazily into your grip, your own movements slowing as you guide him through the aftershocks.Â
For a moment, neither of you speaks, then Logan lifts his head, his hazel eyes soft as they meet yours. âYou walked into my life and I knewâI knewâyou would ruin me.â
You smile to yourself, unable to stop the thought that floats into your headâheâs ruined you as well.Â
+++
The text comes in at a little over one AMâhurt.
You jump out of bed, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you slip into one of his discarded flannels and head out into the night. Pacing the driveway, your heart jumps into your throat at every passing headlight, your thumbnail almost bitten down to the quick as you wait for him.
The minutes bleed into eternity until you finally see the limo turn down the long drive and it takes all your willpower to not run and meet him halfway. Youâre bouncing on your heels as he finally comes to a stop, the driverâs side door opening with a faint groan of steel.Â
Your heart stutters in your chest as he emerges from the car, blood soaking through his shirt, dark and spreading, as he steps towards you on shaky legs. Loganâs face is pale in the moonlight, his breathing uneven and shallow and white-hot dread shoots up your spine as you see his arm hanging limp, two of his claws unsheathed and dripping blood.
âOh, fuck, fuck!â you gasp, rushing to his side.
Logan tries to wave you off, gritting his teeth as he grips the doorframe. ââM fine,â he grits, but the tremor in his voice betrays him.Â
You reach for him, hands already attempting to steady him as his knees buckle and he collapses to the ground beneath him. âCareful. Claws,â he rasps as his left hand seeks purchase against your shoulder.
âI donât fucking care about your claws, Logan,â you snap, although you both know your anger isnât at him. You glance up at him and for once you think you actually see fear in his eyes. âWhat happened?â
âGas. Robbery.â Each word punches out of his chest, the effort to speak sending tremors down his limbs. âGot âem.â He nods down towards his limp arm, claws still unsheathed, but slowly, so slowly starting to retract.
He winces as you help him peel off his coat to get to the shirt underneath. Your fingers shake as they trace the holes the bullets madeâone in his shoulder, dangerously close to his lungs and the other just below his ribs. Hooking your fingers through the fabric, you rip it from his chestâthe wounds are deep and his skin is hot and slick with sweat.
Panic claws at you and unshed tears burn in your eyes. Youâve seen Logan hurt before, but thisâthis was different. His breathing is painfully shallow, his usual gruffness and resilience absent.Â
âLogan, youâre not healing,â you whisper, your voice shaking as your fingers stain with blood. Logan simply grunts, trying to wave you off, but lacking the strength. âI canâtâŠI canât lose you. I can help.â
Loganâs eyes widen as he grabs for your wrist. âNo. Youâll hurt yourself.â
âI donât care!â you shout. âI love you, dammit, and Iâm not just going to sit here and watch you die!â
Before he can protest, you press your palms over his wounds, the familiar warmth of your power surging through you as it spreads from your palms into his torn flesh.
The pain hits you like a freight train.
Itâs sharp and relentless, searing through your shoulder and into the softness of your belly like molten fire. You gasp, biting back a scream as your body jerks instinctively away from the intensity, every cell in your body demanding you withdraw from the torture.Â
But you donât stop. You cling to him, tears streaming down your face as you channel your power into him, knitting his flesh back together. You can feel it, the way his muscles, bones and tissue rearrange themselves, months of healing taking place in mere moments. Every second feels like an eternity, but you refuse to let go.
Youâre dimly aware of Logan yelling at you to stop, his own pain momentarily forgotten as he watches you endure his agony.Â
Black dots dance in your vision as the last of his wounds come together, the spent bullets clinking to the gravel and you finally collapse against him, trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The fire in your body begins to dull, fading to a cold, hollow ache as Logan wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest.
âHey,â you mumble against him, your voice barely above a whisper. âYouâre okay now.â
âMe?â Loganâs voice is low, disbelieving as his hand cradles the back of your head as if you might shatter. âYouâre the oneâwhy the fuck would you do that? You couldâveâdammit, youââ
His words break off, his forehead dropping to yours as his breath shudders against your cheek. You can feel the tension radiating through him, warring with himself between his gratitude and anger, between his guilt and the love heâs too afraid to speak out loud.
âI told you why,â you answer, lifting your head to look up at him.Â
Loganâs jaw clenches, his words caught in his throat, but his eyes say everything is voice wonât. You donât need him to say it, not yet, but you can feel it, pressing just below the surface.
âCâmon, letâs get you inside.â
+++
Thereâs a reverence in which Logan washes you.Â
Steam swirls around you as he works the thickly lathered loofah over your shoulders, down across your collarbones and down along the soft planes of your stomach. The water rinses away the faint metallic tang of blood, leaving behind the fresh scent of soap. He continues with a silent determination, as if the act of washing you can erase all the pain youâve taken from him.
You know better than to convince him youâre fine, that the pain is always temporary, that it only lasts for a few minutes, sometimes just a bit longer. That the pain is something youâd endure for him again and again if heâd let you.Â
His thumb brushes along the underside of your ribs, searching for a wound you know he wonât find. You reach for him, lacing your fingers together with his. He blinks up at you, hazel eyes holding far too much worry for such a stoic man.
âIâm not going to break, Logan,â you say softly.
A wordless noice escapes his throat as he removes himself from your grasp and continues to work, ditching the loofah in favor of his hands. His fingers are warm and calloused against your skin as they glide lower, down over the swell of your hips, over your thighs, down towards your knees.Â
His touch morphs from one of care and comfort to one more sensual, simmering with unspoken tension as his fingers rest in the hollow behind your knee. You glance down at him, water droplets catching in his hair, running off the slope of his nose.Â
Though youâve seen him bare before, you can help but trace the lines of his bodyâthe broadness of his shoulders, the well defined muscles of his chest, the sturdiness of his thighs, the scars that mar his skin. The sight of him stirs something deep within you and you feel your pulse thrum beneath your skin.
âLogan,â you murmur, your voice almost lost in the sound of the water.
He looks up at you then, eyes locking with yours. A storm swirls within them, a mix of guilt, affection and an intensity that takes your breath away. Leaning in, he presses the barest of kisses to the inside of your knee before he rises to his full height, pressing you close.
âDâyou mean what you said before?â he asks, voice low.
I love you, dammit!
âYes,â you answer without hesitation.
Logan exhales sharply, the tension heâs been holding coiled in his muscles loosening as he loops his arms around your waist. âIâm not very good with words,â he admits, his breath fanning across your damp skin. âCan I show you?â
Thereâs no mistaking the meaning behind his words and you can only nod, your voice catching in your throat.Â
His lips find yours, mouth moving over yours slow and deliberate as if heâs savoring the taste of you. The first touch is a spark, the second a fire, and by the third, itâs an inferno that engulfs you both and leaves you breathless. Logan kisses you like youâre his anchor, his salvation, his touch desperate and full of everything he canât yet put into words.
Your fingers slide into his hair, gripping the strands at the nape of his neck as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed in the space between you. His tongue brushes against yours, teasing and exploring and you respond in kind, your nails scraping along his scalp.
Loganâs control is fraying. You can feel it in the way his teeth nip at your bottom lip, the way his hands press along the curve of your spine, the way he canât seem to find enough of your skin to touch, to caress. A low growl rumbles through his chest as you slip a hand between your slick bodies, finding his cock, thick and heavy against your belly.
You give one slow drag of your palm along his length before heâs gripping your thighs and forcing your legs around his waist. His mouth leaves yours, trailing down to the curve of your jaw as he presses you against the wall, the coolness of the tile a direct contrast to the heat of your skin and you canât stop the gasp that escapes your lips.Â
Despite his age, the metal bones inside him slowly poisoning him and causing him human aches and pains, heâs still able to hold you up solidly with one arm as the other trails along your hip bone and dips down to where youâre warm and wet.Â
âThis all for me?â he asks in a murmur, sliding a finger along the seam of your cunt, just barely brushing against your clit.Â
Your breath hitches and you grip his shoulders, nails pressing lightly into his skin as you nod. Loganâs eyes darken at your reaction, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
âYes,â you finally manage to whisper. âAlways for you.â
âGood,â he growls, leaning in to nip at the skin just below your ear. The deep rumble of his voice vibrates through you, his touch deliberate and almost torturously slow as he slides his fingers through your folds, spreading your slickness with a focused and unrelenting precision.Â
âOh, fuck,â you gasp, your head tilting back against the wall as he finally presses his thumb to your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to have your thighs trembling around his waist.Â
âI got you,â he coos against your skin, his lips trailing from the pulse point in your neck to your collarbone. His teeth scrape along the curve of your shoulder, his free hand gripping your hip tighter to steady you as his fingers continue to tease and coax. âLemme make you feel good.â
Every nerve ending is afire beneath him, every motion, every stroke of his fingers against your cunt leaving your mind reeling with pleasure. Your nails dig further into corded muscles of his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor yourself to. You pull back when you see the tiny, crescent shaped cuts marring his skin.
His eyes snap up to yours, sharp and molten. âNo, do it,â he urges, fingers still moving. âMark me with somethinâ pretty.â
âFuck, Logan,â you gasp.Â
âSay my name again,â he demands, his voice rough and commanding. Thereâs a quiet desperation in his tone, as if hearing it grounds him. Grounds him to this moment. To you.Â
You canât help but obey, whispering his name like a prayer, and he rewards you by slipping one long finger inside you, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure along your spine. Logan watches your face intently as if memorizing the way you react to his touch. When he adds a second finger and slowly begins to thrust his hand, you cling further to him, the heat inside you building to an almost unbearable intensity.
âGood girl,â he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. âYouâre so beautiful like this. So wet and warm and tight around me.â
His words barely register in your mind, too focused on the way his fingers curl and thrust inside you, finding that soft spot that makes your eyes roll back. Heâs relentless now, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.
âLogan, Iâm so close,â you whine, your hips beginning to roll against his hand, seeking just a bit more friction, forcing his fingers deeper inside of you.
The tension coiling low in your belly finally snaps, your orgasm washing over you in waves that make your whole body shudder as you cry out his name. Logan holds you through it, his hand continuing to thrust against you as he draws out every ounce of pleasure from you, his own breathing ragged against your skin.
When you finally come down, Logan presses a kiss to your temple as he helps you unwrap your legs from his waist and carefully sets you down, keeping you close.Â
You tilt your head to meet his gaze, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. âI didnât think youâd be into shower sex, old man,â you tease with a smile.
His laugh is low. âI can make exceptions. I need a bed to fuck you properly, though.âÂ
âProve it,â you challenge.
+++
The heat and intensity between you doesnât diminish as Logan helps you out of the shower and guides you down the hallway towards his bedroom. A shiver of anticipation crawls up your spine as you get closer, knowing that once you cross this line, thereâs no going back, that he will have claimed you fully.
You scoot back onto the bed, watching as he approaches you with a fire in his gaze that doesnât waver. He climbs onto the mattress, knee pressing down between yours as he cages you in from above, gently pinning you beneath him.Â
Leaning down, his lips brush against yours, teasing. âStill wanna challenge me, sweetheart?â His voice is a low gravelly growl that sends a prickling rush of arousal down your limbs.
âAlways,â you reply breathlessly, arching into his touch as his hands slide down your thighs, parting them with ease.Â
His grin is sharp as he leans back to take you in fully and you acutely feel the weight of his gaze against your skin. He traces his calloused fingers over your damp skin, along the dips of your collarbones, under the swell of each breast, mapping the curve of your hips as if committing you to memory. Dipping his head, he leans down between your legs, his beard grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you canât help but shudder at the sensation.
âYouâre so fuckinâ beautiful,â he says, almost to himself, his voice dripping with desire. He drags his lips higher, brushing along your damp cunt, his breath hot and tantalizing. âAnd all mine.â
The possessiveness in his tone has you clenching around nothing, heat pooling low in your belly and your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer. But he ignores your silent plea, almost deliberately testing your patience as he kisses you everywhere except where you want him most.
âLogan, please,â you gasp, the ache between your thighs almost painful.
âPatience,â he chides with a smirk, though his own resolve seems to be thinning. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer before he flattens his palms against your thighs, opening you fully to him. Then, his tongue is on you, lapping at you with flat, broad strokes in a rhythm that quickly has you teetering on the edge.
Loganâs focus is unrelenting, his low growls of approval vibrating through you as he works you over with an enthusiasm that proves to you this is about more than just pleasureâheâs claiming you, showing you just how much you mean to him. Making you his.Â
Your thighs tremble around him and his warm, rough hands hold you steady as he slips one, then two fingers deep inside of you. Itâs embarrassing how quickly you come as he thrusts his fingers against that spot inside you, your second orgasm of the night crashing over you as his name falls from his lips in a breathless moan.Â
Before you can properly catch your breath, Logan is moving from between your thighs, making his way back up your body, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. His lips finally find yours in a kiss thatâs messy and desperate and you can taste yourself on his tongue, sharp and bright, and the intimacy of it sends a thrill through you.Â
âYou taste so fuckinâ good,â he groans against your lips, his voice wrecked as he grinds his hips against yours, his cock hard and insistent against your hip. âCould spend the rest of my life between between those thighs.â
âWhy stop there?â you tease, your lips tugging into a smirk. âI thought you said youâd fuck me properly.â
Loganâs eyes darken, your challenge seeming to light something dark and primal in him. His grin is all teeth as he sits back on his heels, hands curling around your hips and pulling you down the bed like you weigh nothing until your hips are flush with his. âYou gotta mouth on you, sweetheart. Should we see if you can still talk stuffed full of my cock?â
The weight of his cock brushes against your slick folds and you gasp at the sensation, your nerve endings exquisitely sensitive. Logan grips himself at the base, giving himself one languid stroke before running the thick head along your cunt, teasing you with shallow thrusts. Each slow, deliberate stroke of him sliding against you leaves you desperate and aching and you lift your hips in search of more.
âLook at you,â he murmurs. âSo needy. Bet youâll take me so well, huh?â
âYes,â you breathe, nails digging into the muscles of his forearms. âPlease.â
He presses into you then, the stretch of his cock making your jaw drop as he takes his time, sinking in inch by inch, filling you completely. Loganâs gaze is locked on yours, heavy and possessive as he watches every flicker of pleasure cross your face.Â
âFuckâ he groans when heâs fully seated against your hips, his body trembling with the effort to stay still. âYou feelâŠso fuckinâ tight. So damn perfect.â
Your hands clutch at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as he starts to move, pulling out torturously slow before thrusting back in harder, setting a rhythm thatâs relentless and consuming. Each stroke of his hips has you crying out, your body arching into his as you meet him thrust for thrust.
âTakinâ me so well, sweetheart,â he growls, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise as he continues to pound into you. âLike you were made for me.â
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing in with your whimpered moans and Logans own ragged groans. He leans down, bracing himself on his forearms, the wiry hair on his chest teasing your nipples as his lips find your neck, biting and sucking marks into your skin that feel like promises.
Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in deeper, your heels digging into his back as the coil inside you begins to tighten once more. He feels it too, the way you body clenches around him, and his pace falters slightly, his breaths coming faster.
âCâmon,â he rasps against the pulse point on your neck. âWanna feel you come. Wanna make you fall apart.â
It doesnât take much moreâjust a few more well-angled thrusts that hit that spot inside you and the tension finally snaps, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you trembling. Loganâs finesse is slipping, thrusts growing erratic as chases his own release.
âCome Logan,â you manage in a whisper. âCome for me.â
His hips stutter as he groans your name, spilling into you as his body tenses, lazily thrusting against you as he wrings out the last of his pleasure. He stays deep inside you, still for several moments before he shifts just enough to collapse against your side.
For a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sounds in the room being your heavy breathes and the pounding of your heart. Logan rests his head against your chest, heavy and sweat slick between your breasts. You brush at the strands of hair against his forehead before running your finger along the old scar on his cheek.
He lifts his head to look up at you, his gaze soft yet still simmering with hunger. âI do, you know,â he murmurs. His fingers brush idly against your skin. âLove you.â
A smile spreads across your face, warming blooming in your chest.
âI know.â
+++
You wake before he does, rolling over to find him prone, face buried in the pillow he hugs close to his chest. Sunlight filters in through the half slatted blinds, catching on the silver in his hair and beard and you canât help but admire how handsome he looks, how at peace he is beside you. Heâs relaxed in sleep for the first time since you came here. Youâve heard his growls and yelps of terror that echo in the night, seen the claw marks that pierce his sheets.
Your mind filters back to last night and how he looked as he came apart inside you, how desperate and needy he was for your touch upon his skin. The memory of his gasps and groans send a rush of warmth over your skin, making you dimly aware of the ache between your legs. Logan, so guarded, so unyielding and seemingly unbreakable, trembled as he came, his voice rough and wrecked as he called out your name. You shiver thinking about it.
You want to hear it again. But not now.
Resisting the urge to reach out and brush the hair from his forehead, you leave him undisturbed and slide out of bed. Padding into the kitchen, you find Charles sitting in his chair at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out in front of him. He looks up at you with a warm smile as you start a pot of coffee, the machine humming to life.Â
âAh, I see,â he comments, a smirk tugging at his lips.
You glance over at Charles, his eyes back on the paper in front of him, but his smile still paints his face, sly and knowing. Heat creeps up your neck as you busy yourself with the coffee. âAre you reading my mind?â you ask, trying to force nonchalance into your tone.
Charles chuckles softly and taps at his temple. âI donât have to. Youâre projecting. And quite loudly, at that.â
You bite your lip as you fill your mug, leaning against the counter as the coffee warms your hands. You attempt to clear your mind, trying to think of anything mundaneâthe weather, baseball, laundry. Charles just shakes his head. âRelax, my dear. What the two of you do together as consenting adults is none of my business.â
âOh, God,â you groan, your cheeks aflame. âThatâs what Iâm projecting?â
âNot that explicitly, no. You think more in feelings, rather than words. But theyâre quite powerful emotions and rather hard to ignore when theyâre radiating as strongly as yours are this morning.â
You bury your face in your hand, peeking at Charles through your fingers, which only seems to amuse him further. âYouâre enjoying this far too much,â you mutter.Â
âPerhaps,â Charles says with a laugh. âBut youâre helping him. Healing him. And that, my dear, is worth everything.âÂ
Before you can respond, you hear the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Logan rounds the corner, hair tousled from sleep, his body still bare except for the pair of low slung sweatpants clinging to his hips. His eyes find yours first, softening in a way they rarely do for anyone else as he scratches at the back of his head and mumbles, âMorninâ.â
âMorning,â you reply with a smile, thankful for the distraction. You pour a second cup of coffee and offer it up to him. âCoffee?â
Logan grunts in affirmation, moving towards you, but instead of reaching for the mug, he loops an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. He buries his face in your neck, beard scraping against your skin as he sighs. âDidnât like wakinâ up with you not there,â he breathes into your hair, his voice so low you almost donât hear him.
âSorry,â you whisper. âI didnât want to disturb you.â
âSâokay,â he says softly, pressing the lightest of kisses just under your ear. âNext time, wake me.â
Your heart stutters against your ribs at his open display of affection, the softness and warmth in which he holds you, and the promise behind his words. From over his shoulder you see Charles give you a slight nod, a bright smile on his face before he turns his attention back to the newspaper in front of him.
You think back to what Charles told you all those months ago, about how you were a home for Logan. Those words echo in your mind as you feel Loganâs steady weight against you. Heâs so different now, soft and unguarded and in that moment you know.
Youâre home, too.
#logan howlett#wolverine#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x you#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett fic#logan howlett fanfiction#logan x reader#logan howlett smut#logan howlett x fem!reader#wolverine smut#wolverine x men#wolverine fanfiction#old man logan#old man logan x reader#old man logan smut#logan x you
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After reading both Kass and Mefalit's statements I'm so very heartbroken and disappointed. Anybody who has been watching Iskall's streams or Vault Hunters SMP these past few years would be able to recognize these names. Mefalit was a VERY big supporter of VH and prominent part of the community and it's terrible that she and the other victims were betrayed and manipulated like that.
Also just to remind people, making light of the situation by memeing on what Iskall did helps nobody. Comments like "I never liked him/always knew he sucked/had a bad feeling about him" especially disrespects the victims who DID trust him and were manipulated.
Respect the mods/community members involved and let their statements be just that. Do not speculate on more.
On a more positive note I'm glad that the Hermitcraft members dealt with this swiftly and maturely, thank you so much to the anonymous hermit Mefalit and the other victims managed to reach out to.
#iskall85#Iskall situation#Also remember. False stated that Stress resigned of her own volition uninvolved with what happened.#DO. NOT. HARASS. ANYONE.
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Silent strain | part vii
outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
previous part | next chapter
summary: Joel still holds on to the idea of ââgiving you the world even though everything feels broken.
w.c: 9k>
warnings: angst, mentions of murder, mentions of death, panics attacks, fluff.
a/n: Hello! I have to be honest. I don't feel really connected to this story since I stopped thinking about it for 3 weeks. I don't know if this chapter makes sense at all. I went to my drafts and tried to join all the different ideas I had written for this chapter đ I didn't want to end this story here and there will be one more chapter đ„ș thanks for your patience and sorry for my outbursts. By the way thank you so much on all the love you had given to my marcus acacius fic that one was carefully written haha âš Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading đ
dividers by @/saradika-graphics
For the last few days, the house had been quiet.
Unbearable quiet.
The air seemed to be charged with some kind of machiavellian aura. You could breathe the fear coming out your lungs mingling in it with it in some kind of joke. Because after a long time of surviving and doing everything, you could to arrive to a place where you could come to close your eyes at night without the fear of being murdered. The dream faded.
After a long time, you felt hopeless and scared.
After a long time, you had to face the imminent death of someone you loved.
Your biggest fear.
You had seen your sister died before your eyes when the world became mad. You saw Tess died sacrificed for you all, and now, you almost lost your daughter.
Joel hadnât left your side since you were dismissed from the infirmary.
He had been watching you. At nights when you were finally sleeping, he kept himself awake just to see you sleep and making sure you were fighting your demons in your dreams.
It cut him deep in the heart to feel it, to hear it, and to acknowledge. The sight of you, every day in front of the window with your arms crossed around your middle as a shield from the outside broke his heart. Joelâs heart ached as he watched you, your usual force now cloaked in fear.
The soft light from this morning highlighted the bruise on your face, the purple and blue tones reminding the events that had happened just a few days ago. He hated it, the mark on your skin, the haunted look in your eyes, the way your hands shook no matter how tightly you tried to hold yourself together.
The ring he had given you laid on your finger, shining as the only light you could see during the clouding morning.
He hated this. He hated that someone had dared to put that mark on you, hated that he hadnât been able to stop it before it happened. But more than anything, he hated seeing the fire in you dimmed, replaced by this trembling fear he didnât recognize in you.
You had been holding Rosie close every day. The grip on her became almost desperate, like you were afraid she might slip away if you let go, and Joelâs chest tightened at the sight.
And the moments like this, when she was lost in sleeping dreaming about butterflies, you were gripping your arms around your middle, again and again.
Joel cleared his throat softly, not wanting to startle you, but enough to pull you from whatever dark thoughts were haunting you. âHey,â he said, his voice low and gentle, like it was meant to keep the fragility of the moment intact. âYouâre gonna wear a hole in that spot if you keep standinâ there.â
You glanced over your shoulder at him, the tiredness in your eyes making his stomach churn. But you didnât speak, just offered a faint smile that didnât quite reach your face before turning your gaze back out the window.
He stepped closer, his boots barely making a sound on the wooden floor. âHey,â he said softer this time. âYouâve been standinâ there all morninâ. Come sit with me.â
âI donât want to.â You replied, âIâm lookingâŠwhenever he comes back. Iâm going to kill him.âÂ
Joelâs breath caught in his throat at your words. The cold, steely tone in your voice sent a chill down his spine. It wasnât just the anger, heâd seen you angry before, it was the edge of pain buried underneath it, sharp and raw.
He studied you for a moment, the way your jaw was clenched, your arms still wrapped tightly around yourself like you were holding something in. Joel sighed softly, stepping closer until he was right beside you, his hand brushing against your arm. âI know youâre hurtinâ,â he said carefully. âI know youâre angry. Hell, Iâm angry too- â
You didnât look at him, your gaze fixed on the horizon like you were waiting for some shadow to reappear. âHe hurt her, Joel. Hurt Rosie. And he-â Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, fighting to keep it steady. âHe tried to kill me.â
âI know,â Joel said, his voice heavy. He wanted to reach for you, to pull you into his arms, but he didnât. Not yet. âAnd if it comes to it, Iâll be the one to handle it. You donât gotta carry that on top of everythinâ else. That ainât who you are anymore.â
Finally, you turned to him, your eyes blazing with a despair âYou donât get to tell me who I am, Joel,â you snapped, your voice trembling. âYou think I donât know what killing him means now that we are here? But do you think I care? He almost took Rosie from me. I canât--I wonât let him get away with that.â
Joelâs jaw tightened, the weight of your words cutting into him. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that contrasted the fire blazing for your words.
Tears welled in your eyes, and you looked away again, shaking your head. âI canât sleep well, I canât breathe, knowing he might come back.â
Joelâs hand moved to your shoulder, grounding you. âWeâll protect her,â he said firmly. âIâll protect you. I swear to God, heâs not gonna hurt either of you again. I wonât allow that.â
You blinked and turned to look at him, your eyes glassy with tears. âI just... I canât stop thinking about what couldâve happened,â you murmured, your voice trembling. âIf you hadnât been there, Joel... if Paul had...â
Joel shook his head quickly, cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing over the unbruised side. âBut he didnât. I was there, and Iâll always be there. No oneâs gonna hurt you or Rosie again, you hear me?â
Your lower lip quivered, but you nodded, the tears finally spilling over. âI feel so stupid. Iâve faced worse before, but now... I canât even step outside without panicking.â
He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you as if he could shield you from the world. âYouâre not stupid,â he said firmly.
You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him, and for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of safety amidst the storm. âI donât know what Iâd do without you,â you whispered.
Joel kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. âYouâll never have to find out, darlinâ. Never.â
âNever leave me, pleaseâ you whispered, your voice trembling as your eyes locked with his. The love in Joelâs gaze was overwhelming, deep and steady, like it could ground you even in the midst of your unraveling. In that moment, it felt as though he could heal every wound in the world just by looking at you like that.
He didnât say anything right away, but his hands cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your skin. His touch was so tender, it almost broke you all over again.
âIâm here,â he said, his voice rough but steady. âAlways. I ainât goinâ anywhere.â
The weight of his words, the sheer promise in them, weakened you. You leaned in, pressing your lips to his with all the love, fear, and gratitude coursing through you. The kiss wasnât hurried or frantic; it was deep, purposeful, filled with everything you couldnât put into words.
Joel responded with equal intensity, his hands steadying you as if anchoring you to him. The kiss deepened, and you poured every single feeling you had for him into it, your love, your fear, your desperate need for him to know just how much he meant to you.
When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested on his neck. His eyes stayed on you, dark and filled with so much love it left you almost breathless.
âYou are my world,â he murmured, his voice rough with honesty. âThere ainât nothinâ thatâs ever gonna take me away from you.â He paused, âNo Paul, not even Tommyâ he said, finally allowing himself to be angry with his brother for not acting properly when you needed.
You smiled softly, your fingers lifted, tracing the familiar lines of his face. âYou heal me, Joel,â you whispered. âIn ways I didnât think were possible.â You sighed, âIâve slept just because you are by my side,â you whispered, your voice trembling with the vulnerability you rarely showed.
Joel's eyes softened at your confession, the lines of his face etched with worry and love. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms securely around you, as if shielding you from everything outside your small, shared world.
âIâll always be here,â he said, his voice firm but gentle. âNo oneâs gonna hurt you again, not while Iâm breathinâ. And Iâm not goinâ anywhere.â He tilted your chin up slightly, meeting your gaze with an intensity that both comforted and steadied you. âYou believe me, donât you?â
You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. âI do,â you whispered. âI just... I donât want to lose you, Joel. Not again. You mean everything to me. Rosie and Ellie need you. I need you.â
His lips pressed into a firm line as he kissed your forehead, lingering there for a moment before speaking. âYou wonât lose me. Not to this world, not to anyone.â His tone carried a weight of conviction that made you believe him, despite the dark corners of your mind that tried to tell you otherwise.
You let out a shaky breath, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if holding on to him could ground you further. âI love you,â you said, the words spilling out with a mix of desperation and relief.
Joel tightened his embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head. âI love you too, darlinâ. More than Iâll ever be able to say.â
The days that followed, the tension between Joel and Tommy hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and unrelenting. The anger in Joelâs chest refused to leave and every time he thought about Paul, about what he had done to you, about Rosie crying in your arms, about Tommy and Mariaâs insistence on letting him live because he was the most capable doctor in Jackson, made his blood boil.
Joel stayed distant, avoiding Tommy whenever he could. But the inevitable day came when Tommy finally showed up at your door.
The sound of footsteps outside was followed by a knock. You opened the door cautiously, seeing Tommy standing there, his posture tense, but his face holding a mix of determination and concern. He wasnât going to let this go.
âCan we talk?â Tommyâs voice was low, almost pleading, as he stood at the threshold, not pushing any further without an invitation.
You glanced back at Joel, who stood in the corner of the room, his arms crossed, jaw clenched. His posture was rigid, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. You could feel the weight of his gaze on Tommy.
âYouâre here now,â you said quietly, your gaze flicking between the two men. "Letâs just talk. Itâs time to sort this out.â
Tommy looked at you, grateful for your willingness to listen, but then his eyes moved to Joel. âIâm not here to argue,â he said, his voice steady but carrying a hint of frustration. âI just want to make sure you both understand why I did what I did. Maria and I- we thought it was best for Jackson.â
Joel stepped forward then, his voice tight, filled with a simmering anger. âBest for Jackson?â he spat; his words heavy. âYou think keeping Paul around is what's best? After what he did to my family? After what he did to her?â His gaze flicked to you, and his face twisted with pain and rage.
Tommyâs face faltered slightly, but he stood firm. âWe canât just murder people, Joel. Weâve got to think about the bigger picture here.â
âThe bigger picture?â Joelâs voice broke through the silence, louder now. âThe bigger picture is you letting him get away with what he did. You think a doctorâs skills are worth more than the safety of someone?â
You stepped in between the two men, your hand on Joelâs chest, trying to diffuse the tension that had only escalated. âJoel.â you said softly, your voice firm yet gentle.
Joelâs anger didnât subside, but he took a deep breath, his gaze hardening as he met Tommyâs eyes. âI get it, Tommy. I do. I get you donât kill people. But this is not about you or me. Itâs About her, about Rosie.â He nodded toward you, his voice softer but still filled with that quiet fury. âYou failed us, and Iâm not gonna forget that.â
Tommyâs face tightened, but he didnât flinch. âIâm not asking you to forget,â he said, his voice growing quiet, but steady. âIâm asking you to try to understand. I had to make a choice. And Iâm sorry it hurt you. I didnât want that. But we canât just act on anger. Itâll destroy us all.â
The silence between them was heavy, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Joelâs eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the two brothers just stood there, glaring at each other. You could feel the tension in the room, the hurt, the unresolved conflict.
âIâm gonna kill him, Tommyâ you say, leaving no room to even think about an answer. The words left your lips before you could even stop them. You meant it, if you were just speaking out of fear, anger, or something deeper. But in that moment, it felt real. It felt like the only thing that made sense.
Tommyâs face paled; his eyes wide in disbelief. He took a step back, as if your words had physically hit him.
âDonât say that,â Tommy said, his voice shaky now. âYou canât mean that. No matter what Paul did, thatâs not-â He looked to Joel, who stood silent, his jaw clenched tightly as his gaze fixed on you.
Joelâs expression didnât soften. His eyes were filled with an intensity you knew all too well, but it wasnât just anger anymore.
âI canât let him hurt us again,â you continued, your voice steady. âNot after what he did. To me. To Rosie.â Your hands tightened into fists at your sides, the thought of what Paul done still fresh. âHe canât be allowed to walk away from this.â
âI get it. I know how much you hate him. How much you want to make him pay. But thatâs not the wayâ he said, trying to open a door to your own feelings and make to see you beyond the anger.
You shook your head, the frustration bubbling up. âYou donât understand. You knew what he did and you did nothing to stop it.â You could feel the tears threatening to spill again, but you fought them back. âI canât just let it go.â
Joelâs gaze softened at you, and he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. The tenderness in his touch was a stark contrast to the rage that was building inside you.
âI donât want you to become like him,â Joel whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. âI donât want you to lose yourself in this. Youâre better than that.â
Tommy stood quietly behind Joel; his face pained. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but the words caught in his throat. He looked between you and Joel, his hands rising in a gesture of helplessness.
âPlease,â Tommy said softly, the weight of his voice more sincere now. âI donât want to lose you both. Not like this.â
There was a long silence, the tension between the three of you palpable. You could feel the storm brewing in your chest, the fury, the fear, and the loss. But looking at Joel, his eyes filled with that quiet, unshakable love, something in you began to still, just slightly.
âJoelâŠâ You whispered, your voice cracking as you tried to hold onto your resolve. But the reality of the situation hit you, the sheer weight of everything that had happened.
Joelâs hand never left your cheek, and he pulled you closer, his body shielding you, his love steadying you. He didnât need to say anything more. The silence spoke volumes, louder than any words ever could.
For the first time in days, the raw anger inside you began to dull, if only for a moment. And in that moment, you knew what he was trying to do.
 keep you whole.
You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath as Joel held you, his strength grounding you in a way words never could. The storm within you hadnât passedâit was still there, simmeringâbut his touch, his love, gave you a moment of clarity.
âI donât know how to let this go,â you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers clung to the fabric of Joelâs shirt, desperate for something solid, something real. âI can still feel it, Joel. What he did. How he made me feel powerless. How he put our daughter at risk.â
Joel nodded, his jaw tightening as he pulled you closer. âI know, darlinâ. I know.â His voice was thick with emotion, his own rage barely contained. âBut youâre not powerless. Youâve got me. Youâve got Rosie. Weâll face this together. You donât have to carry this alone.â
Tommy shifted uncomfortably in the background, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked at the floor, at the walls, anywhere but directly at you. When he finally spoke, his voice was hesitant but firm. âPaulâs gone. I made sure of it. Heâs not coming back here. He doesnât get to hurt you or your family again.â
You opened your eyes, pulling away from Joel just enough to look at Tommy. âGone where?â you asked, your tone sharp despite the exhaustion in your voice.
Tommy met your gaze, his face solemn. âOut of Jackson. Banished. Heâs on his own now. Thatâs his punishment.â
It wasnât enough. Not for you. But the flicker of guilt in Tommyâs eyes told you it was the best he could do under the circumstances.
âBanished?â Joelâs voice cut through the tension like a knife. âThatâs supposed to make up for what he did? You think thatâs justice, Tommy? Letting him walk away alive?â
Tommy winced but stood his ground. âItâs all I could do, Joel. You know that. Maria and Iââ
âMaria.â Joelâs voice was laced with bitterness, his lips curling into a sneer. âOf course, Maria had a say in this. She always does.â
âDonât do that,â Tommy shot back, his tone defensive. âDonât make this about her. Sheâs trying to keep this place together, same as me.â
Joel shook his head, his grip on you tightening protectively. âThis ainât about Jackson. This is about family. And you sure as hell didnât act like it when you let him off easy.â
The tension in the room thickened, the weight of Joelâs words pressing down on all of you. Tommy opened his mouth to respond but stopped himself, his shoulders slumping in defeat. âIâm sorry,â he said finally, his voice low. âI didnât mean to let you down. Either of you.â
You watched him carefully, the sincerity in his voice softening your anger but not extinguishing it. You leaned into Joel, your voice steady but quiet. âWe needed you to protect us, Tommy. And you didnât.â
Tommyâs face fell, and for a moment, he looked lost, like the younger brother Joel used to shield from the world. âIâll do better,â he said after a pause. âI promise.â
Joel didnât respond immediately. Instead, he looked down at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you wanted. You gave him a small nod, your fingers brushing against his hand.
âFine,â Joel said gruffly, his tone still heavy with distrust. âIf he comes back, if he so much as looks in our direction, I wonât wait for you to make the call.â
Tommy nodded solemnly, knowing better than to argue. âHe wonât,â he said. âIâll make sure of it.â
With that, Tommy turned to leave, pausing at the door. âI meant what I said,â he added, looking back at both of you. âIâll do better.â
Joel didnât respond, his attention already back on you as the door clicked shut behind his brother. His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that had spilled during the heated exchange.
âYou, okay?â he asked softly, his voice a stark contrast to the anger heâd directed at Tommy moments ago.
You nodded, though the ache in your chest lingered. âI will be,â you whispered, leaning into his touch. âAs long as I have you.â
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over Jackson as you stepped outside for the first time in days. The cool breeze felt foreign on your skin, and the familiar hum of life around the town was both comforting and unnerving. People moved about, their voices mingling in the air, but it didnât take long for you to notice the glances, those fleeting, pity-filled looks that made your stomach twist.
Joel had left early for patrol, a reluctant decision that youâd seen weigh on him. Before leaving, heâd turned to Ellie, handing her the silent responsibility of looking out for you. She had protested initially, grumbling about not being a babysitter, but her eyes had softened when she looked at you. Joel knew, as did you, that Ellieâs sharp wit and unwavering loyalty were exactly what you needed to ground yourself amidst the whispers of the town.
âCome on,â Ellie said now, falling into step beside you. âLetâs go to the stables. I think is time to introduce you to Shimmer.â
You gave her a small smile, grateful for her enthusiasm. âThink so? I havenât exactly been good company lately.â
âDonât start with that,â Ellie replied, her tone firm but not unkind. âPeople in this place donât know what theyâre talking about half the time. Who cares what they think? Youâre way tougher than any of them.â
Her words stirred something in you, a small flicker of strength you hadnât felt in days. âThanks, Ellie.â
She shrugged, her usual smirk returning. âYeah, yeah. Donât get all mushy on me.â
The two of you made your way through Jackson, the familiar paths slowly feeling less daunting with Ellie by your side. She talked about anything and everything, her rambling stories pulling you away from the stares and murmurs. By the time you reached the stables, you almost felt like yourself again.
As you ran your fingers along Shimmerâs mane, Ellie leaned against the stall door, watching you with an expression that was rare for her, soft and patient.
âYâknow,â she started, her voice quieter now, âJoel worries about you a lot.â
You nodded, your hand still brushing against the horse. âI know he does. I worry about him, too.â
Ellie hesitated, as if weighing her next words carefully. âYou donât have to be okay all the time. Itâs fine if youâre not. But...youâre important to him. And to me. So, if you need anything, just...say it, okay?â
The lump in your throat was back, but this time it wasnât from fear or sadness. It was gratitude, pure and simple. You turned to Ellie, her usual tough exterior softened just enough to let her sincerity shine through.
âThank you, Ellie,â you said, your voice steady. âFor everything.â
She grinned, her cocky demeanor sliding back into place. âYeah, yeah. Donât mention it. Now letâs get moving before Joel gets back and freaks out because youâre not at the house.â
You laughed softly, the sound surprising both of you. For the first time, you felt like you were taking a step, however small, toward reclaiming the part of yourself that Paul had tried to steal.
Joel would come home later, his expression softening the moment he saw you standing in the kitchen, Ellie at your side, and Rosie cooing softly in your arms. The sight of you holding her, your face showing a glimmer of the strength he had always admired, eased the tension in his chest.
âHey,â he said, his voice low and warm as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. His gaze lingered on you, taking in the small smile that graced your lips as you bounced Rosie gently.
âHey,â you replied, meeting his eyes. There was still a shadow of everything youâd been through, but there was also something moreâhope.
Rosie reached out a tiny hand toward Joel, her soft babbles filling the room as she wriggled excitedly. Joel couldnïżœïżœïżœt help the grin that spread across his face as he walked over, pressing a gentle kiss to her head before turning his attention back to you.
âYou been good today?â he asked, his hand coming to rest on your waist, grounding you in that quiet, unshakable way only he could.
âIâve been okay,â you admitted, glancing at Ellie. âEllie made sure I didnât completely lose it.â
âDamn right I did,â Ellie said with a smirk, though her tone was laced with affection. âYou should thank me. I couldâve let her go feral.â
Joel chuckled, his fingers brushing your cheek. âThanks, kid. Knew I could count on you.â
Ellie shrugged, playing it cool, though her smile betrayed her pride. âYeah, yeah. Donât get sappy on me.â
Rosie giggled in your arms, her tiny hands now tugging at Joelâs shirt. He let out a low laugh, taking her from you and cradling her against his chest.
âYou been keepinâ your mama company, huh?â he murmured to Rosie, his tone soft as she babbled in response.
You watched the two of them, a warmth spreading through your chest. Despite everything, despite the weight of the past days, there was this, your family. It wasnât perfect, and it wasnât easy, but it was yours.
And as Joel wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close while still holding Rosie, you realized that no matter how rocky the road ahead was, youâd face it together.
Later that night, the house had settled into a calm quiet. You and Joel were in your bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the space. Joel sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair while you folded Rosieâs tiny clothes, setting them neatly in a small basket by the dresser.
A knock on the door broke the silence.
âCome in,â you called, glancing up to see Ellie poking her head inside.
âJust wanted to say goodnight,â she said casually, but the softness in her eyes revealed more.
You smiled warmly, setting down the clothes. âGoodnight, Ellie. Thank you for today.â
Ellie waved a hand, brushing off your gratitude. âIt was nothing. Just, you know⊠donât go all weird again, okay? Makes me feel like I gotta be responsible or somethinâ.â
Joel chuckled from his spot on the bed, his gruff voice carrying a note of fondness. âYouâre plenty responsible, kid. More than you give yourself credit for.â
Ellie scoffed but didnât argue. Instead, she gave you a small smile, her gaze lingering on you for a moment. âNight, guys.â
âGoodnight, Ellie,â you and Joel said in unison, watching as she closed the door behind her.
The room fell quiet again, the air filled with a comfortable stillness. Joel shifted, standing to walk over to where you stood. His hands settled on your waist, his touch firm but gentle.
âGot somethinâ I wanna ask you,â he said, his voice low.
You looked up at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. âWhat is it?â
Joel took a deep breath, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for the right words. âYou know⊠maybe we couldâŠâ He paused, seeming almost unsure, then continued, his voice quiet but filled with a flicker of hope. âMaybe we could find a farm. Somethinâ out there, for us to live together. Rosie could grow up there, maybe Ellie could come too.â
A small smile crept onto your face, the idea warming something deep within you. The thought of a place away from the constant need to survive, a place where Rosie could learn what it meant to grow up safely, it was more than youâd ever thought to hope for.
You squeezed Joelâs hand, meeting his eyes. âIâd love that,â you murmured, imagining the life you could have together on that farm. âBut maybe⊠letâs give Rosie a bit more time. Let her grow a little. Sheâs just starting to get to know this world, and Jacksonâs safe for now.â
Joelâs face softened; his eyes filled with a warmth that made you feel completely at home. âYeah,â he said, nodding thoughtfully. âAinât no rush. Just⊠itâs good to have somethinâ to look forward to. Somethinâ better for her. For us.â
You leaned into him, letting the silence settle over you, both of you holding onto that shared vision. A little farm, a life of peace, a future beyond the fight, one that you could finally believe in.
âWherever you go, Iâll follow you, Joel. Always.â
He let out a breath, his shoulders easing, and a quiet smile formed on his face. âGuess Iâm the luckiest damn fool in this world, then.â
His words made you smile, and you closed the small space between you, resting your head on his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you. The warmth of his embrace felt like the safest place in a world that had taken so much, yet somehow, you had found each other. And that was more than either of you had ever thought to hope for.
His lips brushed over your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, each kiss tender and deliberate, as though he wanted to mark every part of you with the love he felt.
âWeâre gonna get married,â he repeated, his voice low but steady, as if speaking it aloud made it more real. His fingers traced soft circles on your back, his touch reassuring and protective. âThen weâll make that farm happen. A place for Rosie, for us. Maybe some chickens, a couple of goats. Weâll figure it all out.â
You laughed softly, the sound light in the quiet room. âChickens and goats, huh? You planning on becoming a farmer, Miller?â
âDonât see why not,â he said with a small grin, his eyes twinkling with a rare spark of humor. âFigure I can learn, long as youâre by my side.â
Your hand came up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your palm. âThat sounds perfect.â
His gaze softened, his arms tightening around you.
You smiled, lifting your head to look at him fully. âDream as much as you want. Just know that wherever you go, Iâll be right there with you. Always.â
His jaw clenched slightly, emotion flickering across his face before he leaned in, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
âYouâre my whole damn world,â he said quietly, his voice thick with sincerity. âNow get some sleep, baby. You deserve it,â Joel murmured, his voice soft and soothing as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.
You felt the exhaustion finally catching up, the weight of everything settling down now that you were safe, here in his arms. His hand traced gentle circles on your back, a calming rhythm that lulled you closer to sleep.
With your eyes closing, you whispered, âI love you, Joel.â
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice a low, comforting rumble. âI love you, too. Now rest. Iâve got you.â
And with those words, you let yourself drift, knowing that, for once, everything was exactly where it needed to be.
A few weeks later, the world outside your home didnât seem as suffocating as it once had. You found yourself stepping out more often, though each time felt like a small battle. The whispers of pity had dulled into occasional glances, but you didnât care much anymore. What mattered was reclaiming pieces of yourself, the parts that had been shaken to their core.
Joel had noticed the shift in you. It wasnât just bravery returning; it was something darker. There was a hunger in your eyes, a quiet, burning thirst for vengeance. He didnât need to ask to know what you were thinking. He had seen it in the way your grip tightened on your gun when you joined him on patrol for the first time, in the way your eyes scanned the horizon as though searching for someone. Searching for him.
Paul.
âI donât know if this is the best idea,â Joel had murmured that morning, watching you strap on your gear with determination. Rosie was with Ellie, safe and sound, but Joel couldnât shake the unease in his gut.
âI need this, Joel,â you replied firmly, your voice leaving no room for argument. âI canât sit in that house anymore, feeling helpless. I need to do something.â
Joel hesitated, but he couldnât deny you. He knew the feeling of needing to act, of needing to take back control. So, he let you come, though he kept a protective eye on you every second.
Now, as the two of you rode along a quiet path outside Jackson, the sun dipping low in the sky, you felt the weight of your riffle against your shoulders, silent reminder of the decision youâd already made in your heart. If Paul was out here, if by some chance you found him, you wouldnât hesitate. You couldnât.
Joel glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his jaw tight. âYouâve been quiet,â he said, his voice low.
You turned to him, your expression guarded. âJust thinking.â
âAbout what?â he pressed gently, though he already had a good idea.
You hesitated before answering, your fingers gripping the reins of your horse a little tighter. âAbout what Iâd do if I saw him out here.â
Joelâs hand twitched on his own reins, his eyes narrowing slightly. âAnd whatâs that?â he asked, his tone careful.
You looked straight ahead, your voice unwavering. âIâd finish what he started.â
Joelâs breath hitched, and he pulled his horse to a stop, forcing you to do the same. He turned to face you fully, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. âYou really think thatâs gonna fix this? Killing him?â
âItâll fix the part of me that still wakes up at night hearing Rosie cry,â you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended. âThe part of me that canât shake the image of him grabbing her, hurting her.â
Joelâs face softened, but his eyes remained steady on yours. âI get it,â he said quietly. âGod, I get it more than you know. But that path? It doesnât end. You take that step, and it stays with you. Forever.â
You swallowed hard, his words hitting deeper than you wanted to admit. âYouâve done it,â you whispered. âYouâve done what needed to be done.â
âAnd itâs carved pieces outta me Iâll never get back,â Joel said, his voice rough with emotion. âPieces I donât want you to lose, too. Not when Iâve fought like hell to keep you whole.â
âHave I ever told you about how my sister really died?â You asked, stopping on your tracks.
Joel froze at your words, his brows knitting together as he watched you. The rawness in your voice, the way your shoulders tensed, told him this wasnât something youâd ever shared before, not with him, not with anyone.
âYou donât have to-â Joel started, but you cut him off, your tone firm yet fragile.
âNo, I do,â you said, gripping the reins tightly, your knuckles white. âIf I donât say it now, I donât think I ever will.â
Joel dismounted his horse without a word, grounding himself on the dirt path, his full attention on you. He didnât try to stop you again. He knew you well enough to know that this was something you needed to let out.
You took a shaky breath, your eyes fixed on the horizon. âShe wasnât just sick,â you began, your voice trembling. âShe didnât die because we ran out of medicine or supplies. She died because someone decided her life wasnât worth saving.â
Joelâs jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides as he listened, his heart sinking at the pain in your voice.
âWe were desperate, starving. Iâd gone to trade what little we had for anything that could help her, food, medicine, something. But the man⊠he said no. Said it wasnât worth it for someone who was already on their way out. I begged him, Joel. I begged him with everything I had.â Your voice broke, tears threatening to spill as the memory clawed its way back. âHe just walked away.â
Joel took a step closer, his chest tightening at the sight of you, so strong yet so broken by the weight of the past.
âWhen I got back, she was already gone,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. âAnd Iâve hated myself ever since for not doing more. For not forcing him to help her. For not-â You stopped, your breath hitching as tears slipped down your cheeks.
Joel reached for you then, his hands gently cupping your face, pulling you to him. âIt wasnât your fault,â he said firmly, his voice steady but laced with emotion. âYou did everything you could. Donât carry that blame, not for a second.â
âYou looked up at him, your tears reflecting the fading light. âShe was Ellieâs age, and Iâve carried it every day, Joel. And now, with Paul... I canât let him walk away like that man did. I canât let him think he can take something so precious from me and just go on living.â
Joelâs gaze softened, his thumb brushing away your tears. âI understand,â he said, his voice low and unwavering. âMore than you know. But listen to me, youâre not the same person you were back then. And this time, youâre not alone. You have me. You have Rosie. Ellie. Weâll make it through this together, but not like this. Not by lettinâ that hatred eat away at you.â
You let out a shaky breath, his words sinking in, though the fire inside you still burned. Joel leaned his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. âPlease, donât let him take any more from you than he already has. Donât let him steal the light I see in you every day.â
âIf it has to be done,â Joel paused, âItâs gonna be me the one to do it for you.â He finally said.
You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat as the gravity of his promise hit you. His hands remained steady on you, grounding you, while his eyes held that unyielding intensity, a mixture of love, pain, and determination.
âJoel,â you whispered, your voice trembling. âI donât want you carrying that. Not for me.â
His jaw clenched, and he shook his head slightly. âIt ainât about what I want to carry,â he said firmly. âItâs about what I wonât let you carry. You donât deserve to live with that weight, and Iâll do whatever it takes to keep it off you.â
Your heart ached at the sheer depth of his devotion. You reached up, your hand resting on his cheek, feeling the familiar scruff beneath your palm. âYou think I canât live with it, but Iâm not sure I can live with you doinâ it either,â you admitted, your voice cracking.
Joel exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing harder against yours. âI know youâre stronger than you think, darlinâ. But I also know what itâs like to live with somethinâ like that. I wonât let it twist you up inside. Youâre the one thing in my life thatâs still pure. You are carrying my secret already.â
The weight of his words settled over you like a blow. Your hand faltered slightly against his cheek.
âYouâre carrying the only thing I canât tell Ellie yetâ he murmured, his voice thick with unspoken emotion.
âEllieâs carryinâ that guilt without even knowinâ,â Joel said, his voice cracking. âAnd youâre carryinâ my guilt. I see it in your eyes, darlinâ. Youâre strong enough to hold it, but it doesnât mean you should have to and I canât let you to carry this responsibility.â
Tears welled in your eyes as you cupped his face, your hands trembling. âJoel,â you breathed.
He shook his head slightly, his forehead brushing against yours as if he couldnât bear to pull away. âThatâs my burden to bear,â he said quietly. âNot yours. Not Ellieâs. You didnât ask for this, darlinâ. I brought it to you, just like I brought so much else.â
Your hands steadied on his face, thumbs gently tracing the lines etched deep from years of pain and survival. âYou think I canât handle it,â you said, your voice soft but firm, âbut I can. Joel, Iâm not breaking under this. Youâre not dragging me downâyouâre keeping me standing. Weâre carrying this together, even if you canât see that yet.â
His eyes closed briefly, his breath shuddering as he let your words settle over him. âI justâŠâ He exhaled, shaking his head as if trying to push away the weight of his guilt. âI just donât want to lose the parts of you that make me believe thereâs still good in this world. Youâre my light, darlinâ. I canât let this world take that away from you like itâs taken so much from me.â
You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. âYouâve lost pieces of yourself to protect the people you love, Joel. But you didnât lose your heart. You didnât lose the ability to care, to love. Thatâs what I see every day. Thatâs why I love you.â
Joelâs hands slid up to cradle your face, his eyes glassy as he gazed at you. âYou make me wanna believe we can have somethinâ better. You and Rosie⊠EllieâŠâ He trailed off, his voice cracking under the weight of emotion.
âAnd we will,â you whispered, your own tears slipping down your cheeks.
For a moment, the room was filled with the quiet hum of your shared breath, the weight of Joelâs secret and his pain hanging between you like a fragile thread. Then, as if finally surrendering to the truth in your words, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you tightly.
âIâll do my best,â he murmured, his voice muffled against your hair. âBut Iâll never stop tryinâ to protect you. Thatâs who I am. Thatâs who Iâll always be.â
You nodded against him, your own arms wrapping around his waist as you clung to him. âAnd Iâll protect you, too, Joel. Always.â
âŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠ.
The next morning, you woke to the quiet sounds of the house, birds singing outside, the soft rustling of the wind through the trees. But as you blinked awake, a familiar sense of unease settled deep in your chest. You turned to find Joel already up, getting dressed in his patrol gear, his movements steady and practiced.
But there was something about the way he moved this morning, something that made your stomach twist. The sense of calm youâd felt the night before had faded with the dawn, replaced by a gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach.
You sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that lingered. âJoel,â you called softly, watching as he fastened his boots.
He turned toward you, his expression softening when he saw you awake. âMorninâ,â he said with a small smile, though there was something in his eyes that you couldnât quite place.
You frowned, pushing the blankets aside as you slowly got to your feet. âYou got patrol?â
Joel nodded, adjusting the straps on his jacket. âYeah. Gotta keep an eye on things, make sure no oneâs out there stirring up trouble.â
The unease inside you only deepened as you stood there, watching him. You wanted to say something, to voice the feeling that gnawed at you, but it was hard to put into words. Youâd been through so much together, and you knew the risks. But there was something in the air this morning, something different.
âBe careful,â you finally said, your voice low. You moved closer, your eyes searching his face. âPlease.â
Joelâs eyes softened at your concern, and he reached out to touch your arm gently, his fingers warm against your skin. âDonât worry, darlinâ. Iâll be fine. Iâve done this a hundred times.â
âI know,â you murmured, but the unease refused to leave you. It settled deep, a cold weight you couldnât shake. âItâs just⊠I donât know. I have a bad feeling, Joel.â
He gave you a reassuring smile, though there was a glimmer of something in his eyes that made you wonder if he was hiding something. âYouâre just gettinâ anxious, thatâs all. Ainât nothing to worry about.â
You didnât believe him, but you didnât press further. He could see it in your face, the doubt, the fear, but he didnât acknowledge it. Instead, he leaned down to kiss your forehead.
âLook, Iâll be back before you know it. And Iâll be careful, promise. I told Ellie to check on you when I get out there. Everythingâs gonna be fine.â
You nodded, though the worry still clung to you, heavy in your chest. You watched him grab his rifle and head for the door, your heart tightening as the unease only deepened.
âCome back safe,â you whispered, though he was already out the door, the sound of it closing behind him leaving you with nothing but the silence of the house.
The day passed in a haze; your every step weighed down by the gnawing feeling in your chest. Rosie was a constant, her small hands gripping onto your fingers as you walked through the house, but even her giggles and soft coos couldnât shake the sense of dread that clung to you.
You tried to keep busy, shifting from one task to the next, preparing food, tidying up, organizing things in a way that felt normal. But it wasnât normal. It wasnât right. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Joel, to the way heâd left this morning, and to that unsettling feeling that something was going to happen.
Rosieâs tiny laugh broke through your thoughts, and you turned to her, forcing a smile as she looked up at you with her bright, innocent eyes. âWhatâs so funny, huh?â you whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of her head, but the sensation of unease lingered, like a shadow you couldnât outrun.
You carried her around the house, humming softly to calm her, but the tension inside you only seemed to grow. You tried to focus on the present, on her needs, but your mind kept returning to Joel, to the patrol, to the feeling of something wrong.
You spent hours moving through the motions, your hands busy with Rosie, but your mind was somewhere else. You couldnât shake the weight of the silence. Even the usual comfort of Jackson, the rhythm of life, the sense of safety felt distant. You wanted to believe that Joel would come home safely, that everything would be fine, but every part of you felt like it was bracing for something.
Every time you heard a sound outside, whether it was the wind brushing through the trees or footsteps in the distance, you jumped, your heart hammering in your chest. You knew it wasnât rational, but the dread wouldnât leave.
You glanced at the window once more, eyes scanning the horizon. The day stretched on, and you couldnât shake the feeling of being stuck in limbo, waiting for something you couldnât see or name, but could feel settling deeper into your bones.
By the time the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the house, your nerves were frayed, the silence between you and Rosie growing thicker. She had fallen asleep in your arms, her little breaths gentle against your chest, but even her calmness couldnât settle your mind.
You tried to push everything aside, focusing on her, but as the evening wore on, the darkness began to close in. The sounds of Jackson, usually comforting, seemed muted, everything felt distant, like you were separated from the world outside, and the only thing that existed was the growing ache inside you.
You forced yourself to sit down on the couch with Rosie, running your fingers through her hair, trying to lull her back to sleep. But all you could hear in the back of your mind was the warning, something was wrong, and you couldnât ignore it.
The clock ticked on, and the hours seemed to stretch impossibly long. Joel shouldâve been home by now.
Your eyes drifted to the door, and for the hundredth time, you found yourself wondering if he was okay. You could feel the weight of the night pressing down on you, the silence now suffocating, and no matter how hard you tried to focus on Rosie, the bad feeling wouldnât let go.
You couldnât ignore it anymore.
And then, it came, the knock at the door.
The sound shattered the quiet like a thunderclap, and your heart leaped into your throat. For a split second, you stood frozen, staring at the door as the sound of it echoed in your chest.
Rosie stirred slightly in your arms, her small body shifting against you, but you didnât move, didnât speak. The knock came again, more urgent this time, and it felt like the world was holding its breath.
You slowly set Rosie down on the couch, her sleepy gaze not yet aware of the tension in the room. You walked toward the door, each step heavy, your mind racing with possibilities, none of them good.
When you finally reached the door, you hesitated for just a moment, your hand resting on the cold metal of the doorknob. Your chest tightened with each breath, and you could almost feel the weight of whatever was about to happen bearing down on you.
With a swift motion, you swung the door open.
Standing on the other side was a familiar figure, one you didnât want to see right now. Tommyâs face was grim, his posture stiff and anxious. The second his eyes landed on you, he froze, his expression darkening further.
You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady, but it trembled nonetheless.
 âWhereâs Joel?â The question was simple, but it felt like it would crush you to ask it out loud.
Tommy looked down, unable to meet your gaze, his lips pressed into a thin line. His silence was enough. You could feel your chest tightening, your breath coming shallow.
âTommyâŠâ you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You needed to know, needed to hear him say it wasnât what you feared. But the way he held himself, the way he refused to look at you directly, it told you everything you needed to know.
âHeâs⊠heâs not coming back right now,â Tommy said, his words falling like a weight in the room.
Your breath caught, a sharp, cold wave crashing over you. âWhat happened?â you forced out, each syllable like a blade.
Tommyâs jaw tightened, and he glanced over his shoulder as if searching for something he couldnât find. âHe⊠got caught up in a situation. Weâre trying to find him, but-â He stopped himself, eyes flicking to the ground. âHe wasnât alone.â
Your heart skipped a beat. You barely heard him over the rush of panic flooding your mind. You reached out for the doorframe to steady yourself, the cold wood grounding you as everything else around you seemed to blur.
âWhere is he?â you managed to ask, barely able to hold back the tremble in your voice.
Tommy looked at you, his eyes softening with regret, and then he finally spoke the words you were dreading to hear. âI donât know yet. But weâre looking. Weâre gonna bring him back.â
But it didnât feel like enough. Not nearly enough.
The dread youâd felt all day was now a full-on tidal wave crashing through you. And the silence between you and Tommy stretched on, thick and suffocating, as your world began to unravel again.
You looked at Tommy, but his expression was distant, haunted by the same dread that clung to your own heart. His eyes were hard and red, but there was a flicker of something beneath them, something that looked like guilt, like he had already resigned himself to the possibility of losing Joel. And you couldnât bear that. You couldnât let it be true.
The world around you seemed to fade away, the noises of Jackson growing muffled, distant. It was just you and that empty space in your chest.
Where is he? Why canât they find him?
âPlease,â you whispered, your voice barely a breath. âHe canât be-he canât be gone.â
Tommyâs silence was enough of an answer. You felt your knees go weak beneath you, your vision blurring, and for a moment, the world seemed to close around you. You barely caught yourself against the nearby wall, your body trembling violently as a cold sweat broke out across your skin.
âNoâyou gasped, shaking your head. âNo... No, no, no...â
Everything around you shifted, the edges of reality blurring like the melting colors of a fading drawing. The walls seemed to warp, stretch. Your breath was quick and shallow, heart pounding in your chest.
Tommyâs voice reached you, but it felt like it was coming from miles away. âWeâre gonna bring him back,â he repeated. But his words felt wrong, distant. The hollow tone of them echoed in your mind.
And then it all snapped into place.
A flash of bright light, too bright. A sharp pain in your chest. Joelâs face. Blood. The unmistakable scent of the forest. A scream, raw and panicked, splitting through the air.
You felt yourself falling, your vision spinning. The world kept shifting, twisting in strange angles you hadnât seen before. Memories of Joel, his soft brown eyes, his smile, his touch. They all merged into one blurry mess, until they were impossible to separate. You reached out instinctively, your hands clawing at the air. But there was nothing there to hold on to. Just emptiness.
Was it real? Was he really gone?
A jolt of pain sliced through your head, and you gasped, your whole body seizing with terror. You could hear your voice, but it was distant, like someone else was screaming your name, calling for you to wake up.
"Wake up!"
Your eyes snapped open.
The room was still. The silence was deafening. Your chest heaved, each breath sharp and jagged as you fought to understand where you were. Everything felt wrong, like it didnât belong. The cool air caressed your face with calloused fingertips.
You were still in your room.
But where was Joel?
Was he really-?
You turned, heart drumming against your ribcage as your eyes scanned the room, your pulse ringing in your ears. And there he was. Joel. Alive. But he wasnât moving. His form was just an indistinct shadow in the moonlight, still and silent as the night itself.
Your breath caught in your throat as you reached for him, hands trembling.
âJoel?â
You whispered his name, too afraid to speak louder, afraid that it would shatter the fragile illusion you were holding on to. Your hands brushed against his arm, and the relief that flooded you was instant.
His skin was warm. He was real.
But as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you noticed something odd.
Joel wasnât looking at you.
The way his body was turned, half-covered by the shadows, the slow rise and fall of his chest... it wasnât like him. Something felt off.
And then the silence broke. His breathing was ragged, strained.
Your heart stopped in your chest.
A voice, barely a whisper, weak and broken. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."
And with that, everything slipped once again.
Was it real? Was this a nightmare you hadnât woken from yet?
You couldnât tell anymore.
Tags đ: @jasminedragoon @orcasoul @missladym1981 @hiroikegawa @eleganthottubfun @lumpypoll @cuteanimalmama @thespookywookies @goodvibesonly421 @karaslqve @greenwitchfromthewoods @somedayheaven @bambisweethearts @joelsteinfeld @guelyury @biapascal @picketniffler @mrsyixingunicorn10 @httpvomitello @kulekehe @callmecath1 @persephone-girl @colmiillo @pedroswife69 @keileighr @capswife @fallout-girl219 @sullyselena @cymbalta-slut @my-tearsricochet
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction#joel miller series#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller imagine#joel miller angst#tlou fanfiction#joel the last of us#joel x reader#Joel Miller#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#the last of us#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal
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Survivor
Hi guys!
This is a new part of the serie "Lia and the Firefighter", from a request that you can find here :)
Please enjoy â„
TW : Fire, firefighter, injury, smoke, explosion.
âCan you stop looking at each other like this?â
Katie talks just before rolling her eyes, looking at Lia and you. You were sitting around a big table in one of the CafĂ© loved by the team. You werenât even talking to each other, to be honest. You moved your chair as close as Liaâs one, being a little behind her because of how many you were.
You like it that way though, like this you were able to pass an arm around her waist and kiss her cheek how many times you want without being seen by anyone. Well, unless Katie as it looks like.
âDonât be jealous because Caitlin doesnât look at you like thisâ you tease her back.
You see her arching an eyebrow, looking angry, but you also saw the corner of her lips tremble when she masked an amused smile.
âDonât drag me to thisâ Caitlin, sitting next to Katie, smirks.
âBe nice, Pookieâ Lia says to you, pinching softly your hip.
âSorryâ
You smile at Lia, flipping off Katie discreetly while kissing Liaâs cheek one more time.
âYeah, be nice Pookieâ you hear Katie mocking.
This is before hearing a sound that can only be a slap behind the head, followed by a growl of pain. No doubt, Caitlin asked her own girlfriend to stop teasing, in her own way.
Next to you, the others arenât really paying much attention to you. Beth took Myle with her and it caught Alessiaâs, Leahâs and Kyraâs attention right away. When Steph came with Calvin, it would have been utopian to hope for a second of attention from them. The dogs were happily eating almost half of the food the players were supposed to eat, but at least they were calm.
At first, when Lia proposed you to come and have coffee with her and her teammates, you said no when you learned that none of the girls' partners were present. You didnât want to impose yourself on one of their times together, you know perfectly well that their agreement is essential for the good of the team. But then Leah grabs Liaâs phone and threatens to come for you if you werenât here in ten minutes.
You donât know what Lia exactly tells them about your relationship, but they know that you have irregular schedules and that sometimes you arenât seeing each other for more than two days, especially when Lia is away for a game.
You miss her like crazy during this time, but you knew what your life would be when you got together. Plus, Lia is definitely worth the wait. And now that you are living together, itâs easier to have time together.
âAre you still hungry? Do you want more cake?â you ask Lia when you see that her plate is empty.
âIâm fineâ Lia smiles.
âAnother tea?â you try.
âAnother tea will be great, thank youâ
You answer her smile with one before getting up. You take Kyraâs mug when she asks you for another tea too with a smug smile, not without rolling your eyes.
âYou are courageous to tease her like thisâ Beth comments to Katie. âShe could crush you without even tryingâ
âNah, Lia would protect me. Right, Wally?â
âDonât push your chanceâ Lia smiles.
She loves the way you effortlessly slide into her group of friends, while still being yourself. Well, you are maybe not as clingy as you are at home, but you arenât afraid to show how much she counts for you and Lia likes it.
Lost in reading the different possibilities of teas, you donât feel your girlfriendâs eyes on you. You are in fact so lost in the menu that you miss a noise that you usually recognize in half of a second.
The explosion of one of the pipes inside the wall takes you by surprise. Like the other people you find yourself on the ground, needing several seconds before understanding what happened. The fire has already started and the only thing who comes to your mind is Lia.
You jump on your legs and look around, but with the smoke itâs hard to see through it. People are screaming and running around, and you really hope that Lia is already outside.
âLia!â you still call, even if you know there is only a little chance for her to hear you.
Sheâs not near the table where they were seated, and you finally spot her a little far away. Sheâs looking around and you wonder if sheâs confused and doesnât find the exit. Youâre too relieved to see her without any apparent injury to realize that sheâs looking for you.
In two seconds, you are in front of her. Her pretty face is a little dirty because of the smoke when you take it between your hands.
âCome on. Letâs get you out of here.â
The CafĂ© is now empty, or at least you canât see anyone because of the smoke. Finding the outside and fresh air is a relief for your lungs but for your anxiety too, you know that smoke can be dangerous for anyone, and you donât want that for Lia.
You find the girls outside and after a quick mental count, you can confirm that they are all here.
You havenât released Lia, trapped in your arms. She doesnât seem to mind, though.
âDid you call the firefighters?â you ask one of the employees.
You nod when he answers that there is an automatic alarm, before lowering your eyes to look at Lia. Sheâs already looking at you.
âAre you okay?â you ask her.
She nods and you kiss her temple before taking a discreet but deep breath. She is okay, you shouldnât be so concerned when you know that everything is fine with her. Your eyes roam the crowd while youâre waiting for the firefighters. You wonder who will come.
But then, you see him. A boy, who is maybe six or seven years old. Heâs crying and a lady is trying to console him. You frown softly and you canât fight your instinct, you want to comfort him too, explain to him that firefighters are coming and that everything will be alright.
âIâm coming backâ you whisper to Lia.
She gives you a curious look, but you only smile at her and kiss her forehead, letting her go slowly before making your way to the boy and the woman you assumed is his mother.
âHi there, Kiddoâ you say, kneeling in front of him.
He looks at you silently, tears still flooding on his cheeks. But itâs okay, you werenât expecting him to be better just because of your presence. You are on a day off; you arenât wearing your uniform.
âThat was pretty scary, yeah? But you donât have to worry, my friends are coming, and they are the best firefighters in the world. Itâs going to be alright, you are safe, okay?â
âWill they be able to save my mother and my baby sister?â he asks between two hiccups.
You frown, before looking at the woman near him. She gives you a sad smile and shrugs. And you are suddenly scared of what you are understanding.
âWhat do you mean?â you ask still calmly.
You donât want to make him more upset than he already is. But inside, your heart is pounding.
âShe went to the bathroom to change the diaper of my little sister. I didnât want to go with them, so I was waiting at the table with my game and then there was this big boomâ
You have to listen very carefully to understand what heâs saying between his cries, but you feel your blood freezing in your veins. You donât see any woman with a baby, which means they are still trapped inside the building on fire.
âHe was crying in the middle of the CafĂ©, so I took him with meâ the other woman explains.
âYou were right to do it. You saved his lifeâ
You stand to look at the CafĂ© once again. Smoke is getting out of it; the explosion has broken some windows, and the doors arenât closed as they should to avoid the air stirring the smoke. It doesnât look good.
Your decision is already made.
You have to go back inside and save them. You arenât aware that Lia heard everything and that she understands really quickly what is happening in your head. But you are quicker than her.
You donât look back, so you donât see Lia trying to run after you. You donât see Steph catching up with Liaâs arm at the last moment, only thanks to her footballing reflexes. You donât see that she needs Leahâs help. And you donât see either Caitlin grabbing her proper girlfriendâs arm when Katie takes three steps to follow you, warning her with her eyes only.
Inside the CafĂ©, there are flames now, coming from where you supposed the explosion was. You know that place, so you donât have trouble knowing where the bathroom is. But it feels strange to be near the fire like this without your uniform protecting you against it. The heat warms your skin in the most unpleasant way.
You cough a little because of the smoke but try to stay focused on your mission. Find the mother and the baby and get them out.
You decide to ignore the characteristic noises of the building, made with wood decoration, just before things start to fall from the ceiling.
The door handle is burning hot when you touch it to open the door of the ladiesâ bathroom, but you grit your teeth and open it as slowly as you can, not wanting to create a backdraft.
âIs someone here?â you shout.
You protect your mouth with the sleeve of your hoodie, trying to breathe as little smoke as possible. But when you finally see the silhouettes of the people you were looking for, you kind of forgot this detail.
You kneel next to the woman, who put the face of her baby against her to protect her.
âGive her to me, Iâll help youâ
She hesitates, probably a little taken aback from your look. After all, without your firefighterâs clothes, your tattoos and your appearance are probably more impressive. But she doesnât have another choice.
You help her to get up and beacon her to follow you. The baby is crying in your arms but itâs a good thing for you, at least sheâs still breathing and conscious. The smoke is darker than before and there are way more flames. Itâs a little harder to find your way back like this and you miss your helmet very much.
You swear when you realize that a beam fell during this time, making it harder to get out. But you only have to look up to understand that there are way more beams who might fall soon.
You explain your plan to the mother. You stack several things to help her to pass over the beam on fire, before following her to give her her baby. And as soon as sheâs outside, you look for other things to stack, because there is no one helping you from the inside.
Itâs becoming harder and harder to breathe, between the smoke and the heat of the fire. You start to feel that your head is turning, and your reflexes are becoming lower and lower, which means you are running out of air.
You are able to jump to avoid the beam that fell where you were standing several seconds before. But then you fall backward and hit your head against the corner of a table.
The shock is hard, and you are out for some time. You donât know if it is for several seconds or minutes. But then you hear the voice of your Commander, beckoning people in difficulty to hide under something. You know that the smoke is less strong if you are on the ground.
You finally lie somewhere under a table in the fetal position, not able to stay awake for more time.
********
You are startled awake suddenly, at least as much as you can be awake when you arenât able to open your eyes. You hear people shouting around you and two big noises, like if someone suddenly had slammed two doors.
And then you feel your body moving without you able to do something against it. But with some thinking, you understand that you are in an ambulance.
âHer heart rate is stabilizing itselfâ you hear someone say.
Someone adjusts something on your face, and you understand that they put a mask on you to help you breathe better.
But then you hear a sniff, and you feel the person next to you turning in another direction.
âItâs going to be okay Maâam. Sheâs safe nowâ another voice from the first says.
You donât hear any answer and there is nothing but silence after that. But you, you feel your heart getting faster. Is Lia with you in the ambulance? What has she seen of you? How is she feeling?
âHer heart is beating faster againâ says Voice One after the beeps of the monitoring get mad.
âWhat is happening?â Lia asks with a broken voice.
âNothing to worry much about. Her body is adjusting to the trauma.â
Liaâs voice breaks your heart, and you try your best to stay calm. You donât want to scare her more than she already is.
You probably fell asleep at some point, since you woke up in another place soon after. There is only silence there, but it helps you to try to understand what is happening. You can open your eyes for now again, or even move a single part of your body. There is still a mask on your face and a light weight on your hand to make you understand they probably put a catheter on it.
âDid you call her parents?â
You recognize Leahâs voice, the accent of the native of Milton Keynes making it easier for you. You are glad that sheâs here for Lia, even if the other girl doesnât answer something vocal.
âDo you want me to?â
There are some noises, and you guess that Leah probably just left the room. Itâs hard to say how many minutes pass before you hear Lia moving too. You canât see her but imagining her leaving the room too isnât really pleasant for you.
On another hand, she could have her reasons. You knew from the first day of your relationship that your career might make her leave. You made a lot of decisions to protect her, even if she made you swear that you would never lie to her.
Today might be the day she decides that she has had enough.
But Lia isnât leaving. You feel her stroke your knuckles and then your fingers. Her touch is comforting, like always, and you feel your body relax almost immediately.
Lia isnât talking, but the comfort she brings you helps you to finally open your eyes. Itâs hard to do, just like you are awakened in the middle of the night after a shift of 48 hours.
You look around and there is a flick next to you who makes you turn your head softly in that direction.
Liaâs green eyes are looking at you, unable to hide the surprise she feels when she realizes that you are awake.
She doesnât seem to know what to say, but you do. You reach to take the mask on your hand, taking it off so you can talk.
âPlease donât leave meâ
In your mind, you werenât going to talk with a broken and almost cavernous voice, but you are. Lia doesnât answer at first, taking the mask from your hand before putting it in its place.
âI am so mad at youâ Lia whispers, coming closer to you. âBut Iâm not leaving in any way.â
You look at her eyes, knowing that sheâs unable to lie to you in any way. And, to your big relief, sheâs telling the truth. You feel your body relax again, probably helped by the caress Lia does now in your hair.
âDo you remember when you asked me to live with you? You said that you canât imagine a world where Iâm not with youâ
You nod softly, not understanding at first where she wants to go with it. You remember, of course. You always have been scared to tell her how much you love her; how much you need her. In part because there are no words strong enough to say how crazy you are about her. But because you donât want to scare her too.
âCan you please stop assuming that Iâm not feeling the same way? I need you in my life tooâ
Itâs another mystery for you, how you managed to catch a girl like Lia. And make her stay.
âLosing you would break me. Please, stop putting your life in danger. Iâm okay with you working as a firefighter. Iâm so proud of you because of it. But since now, you have to promise me to stay safe. For me. Please.â
Sheâs begging and it would be logical that sheâs the one who should cry. But you shamefully feel some tears rolling on your face. Your throat is tight and makes it difficult to talk. So, you just nod and itâs enough for Lia for now.
She cups your cheek and wipes your tears with her thumb, before kissing your head softly.
âOkayâ she whispers. âNow you have to rest. Iâll kick your ass later.â
You smile, even if you donât know if she can see it behind your mask.Â
âThe babyâ you whisper suddenly, remembering the family you tried to help.
âThey are safe, all three of them. They are together. But please, donât worry about the others. Worry about you now. Sleep, Pookie.â
You want to ask more questions, but your eyes are heavy, and you canât resist much longer. You still can feel Liaâs presence next to you, helping you to have a real and deep sleep. She never left your side and finally doesnât really kick your ass.
Itâs finally your Commander who will do it several days after, even putting an advertisement on your head, making you do all the worst chores of the station when you will come back. It seems to amuse Lia a lot when you come back home, complaining after having cleaned the engines of all fire trucks in the firehouse all day long.
#lia walti imagine#lia wÀlti imagine#lia walti x reader#lia walti#lia wÀlti x reader#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso fanfics#lia wÀlti
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ahh this made me so happy!! đ it felt like such a Wade move - never a bad time for a deep convo and some confessions of feelings, right?? thank you so much for reading & for the sweet comment!!
â double the pleasure, triple the fun
[part iii of come on and show me | masterlist]
logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson
rated e - 5.6k
tags: MMF threesome, mutual pining/crushes all around, dirty talk, poly relationship, multi-tasking, the world's worst romantic porposition, oral sex, vaginal fingering, ass play (fingering & rimming), double penetration, creampies, fluff and feelings
a/n: massive thank you to the wonderfully talented @avocado-writing, who kindly beta'd this for me! đ
âAre you asking me out?â It comes slowly, in a rough rasp.Â
Itâs you that turns then, your eyes finding his. Your smile is sweet - a swirling heat of hope in your belly, âDepends on your answer.â
Thereâs something dark in his eyes. A curl of his lips, as his head dips. A kiss pressed against your spine, then lower.Â
âCome on Wilson.â Logan husks, âLetâs get our girl ready.â
(Or, your two becomes three.)
âGod, I want him to put a baby in me.â
Wadeâs sigh rumbles beneath your ear, where your head cradles against his chest.Â
Legs entwined as you stretch out together on the couch - a late-night wind-down after your boyfriend spent the evening picking out his To-Do List at Sister Margaret's.
To kill. Not fuck, apparently. Something he was quick to clarify.
âWhat are you watching?â Your eyes pull away from your own phone - seventeen chapters into an enemies-to-lovers slow burn you havenât been able to put down all evening.Â
A little stretch, as your head tilts to face him - knuckles propped under your chin, âThat video has been looping for like, ten minutes.â
âAnd yet, still not long enough,â He sighs, flashing the screen at you, âSir Mix-a-Lot, you never miss.â
The video flickers, a quick and skillful transition of clips - your eyes squinting at the screen from your angle.
âIs that... Logan?â
âClose, baby girl.â His finger boops against your nose, âHuge Ackman.â
Thereâs a little shake of your head, as your shoulder lifts, âI donât know who that is.â
âAnd thank god,â He grins, letting the phone drop onto the cushions. A shift, as his hands dips against the small of your back, âIf you did, you would divorce me so fast-â
Your eyes roll, as you bite back a grin, âI wouldnât.â
âDefinitely, maybe.â
Wade grunts as you push yourself with a huff - head dipping to press your lips against his. A low swirl in your belly, as his eyes go soft and his smile goes dopey.Â
âI love you, Wade Winston Wilson,â You grin back, âNew fake boyfriends and all, apparently.â
He hums, head tilting.
âAnd what about not-so-fake boyfriends?â
Your brow furrows.
âYou are talking about Logan now, right?â
Wadeâs knuckles brush your cheek, the humor in his eyes turning searching, âWhat do you think?â
And what a question it is.Â
Youâve talked about it often. The occasional partner had cycled in for a night or two, but there had never been someone that struck you both like Logan had, arriving in your lives like a storm of thunder and lightning.
And you canât deny that thereâs feelings. Obvious ones, apparently, with how you acted in the past. Wade was still teasing you about your jealousy - you never had a handle on that emotion in the way he did.Â
That innate knowledge of how he felt about someone, trusted them. Flirting was easy, but youâve seen the way he looks at Logan, too.
It was different. Special.
âTwo musketeers becoming the full set,â He holds his fingers up in front of you, two and then three, âOnly unlike them, weâre fucking.â
You let out a sound of dissent, with the lift of a shoulder.Â
âOh, worm?â His brow raises, âGuess Disney wasnât ready for that, either. Dibs on the religious one, then. I am a man of the cloth.â
âItâs a bad analogy, thereâs four of them.â
He chuckles indulgently, âOkay, now I think youâre making things up-â
Now itâs your hand reaching, a finger tapping against his lips.
âIâd like that. I think Logan being our⊠boyfriend-â The word sends a rush of heat to your face as you stutter over it, Wadeâs eyes gleaming.
âOh my god, you are so fucking cute.â He crows, âWeâve fucked nasty-style and you canât even say boyfriend-â
Your face buried in his chest, his name a muffled whine. A beat as the laughter still rumbles in his chest, before you peek at him.
âDo you think he wants that, too?â
âOh, absolutely.â Wade hums, âThat man is at least a 6 on the Yearning Richter scale. Felt by all, many frightened.â
You brighten at that prospect - your brain is already slipping ahead, âDo you think we should like, plan something? Ask him together?â
âOh, donât worry, gorgeous.â Wade grins.
âIâll handle it.â
It's strange, seeing Logan in your space.
A good strange. A strange that feels nice - the subtle sweep of his eyes, as he takes in your apartment. The bag slung over his shoulder already tucked in your room, set on the ottoman at the foot of your bed.
He fits in, you think. Tucked into your couch as you put the finishing touches on dinner. Too used to being in their shared space at Wadeâs. Of stolen moments when Althea was out. Hushed moments when she was home, muffled moans and bitten-back sighs. Â
It will be nice to be able to take your time.Â
They had arrived together, and there had been a certain thrill to that, too.Â
Wade's knock that mimics the opening beats of "Smooth", before the door burst open. Funny to think about them crammed in a car together - they took Althea's, Wade tells you, when you later asked if they'd walked.
How he was already turning to you to referee, as you tip your head to kiss his cheek.Â
"All I'm asking is if we're both sheathing our swords in the same scabbard, then why is he getting his panties in a twist about me putting my clothes in his bag?"
"Ignore him, sweetheart," Logan softens, leaning into the matching kiss you press against his jaw, "Been doing that for the last two months. It's good to see you."
And it is. Good to see both of them, something warm glowing bright in your chest.
The round table that always felt a little big for two feels perfect now - tucking between each other as dinner passes in a warm jumble of savory aromas and comfortable conversation.Â
Smiling at the way they're both as engaged with your stories about your day, as you are about the work they've been doing together.
"-absolutely vaporized. It was disgusting, babe." Wade grimaces, "I was fine of course. Red, and all. But Lo here, eeugh. Still scrubbing the blood out of the nooks and crannies."
Logan makes a grunt of acknowledgement, "Had worse."
"Worse? Worse than getting gut-mist blasted across your chest?"
"I'll help, if you want." You offer, "Haven't seen your new suit yet."
At Wade's request, you try to keep out of his business - other than the stories he shares, the occasional repairs of his suit. Doesn't want his life mixing, not after what's happened in the past.Â
Dutiful boyfriend by day, mercenary by night. And also sometimes, by day. Evenings, weekends.
Itâs an unsteady schedule, but it's one you've grown accustomed to. Maybe thatâs what helps make this easy, the way youâve already adjusted to mutant-regenerative-boyfriend-life.Â
But it doesn't mean you're not curious. That you don't appreciate certain aspects - especially when they come in tightly wrapped in leather and lycra.Â
And when you eventually rise to collect dishes, it's Logan that beats you to it. A finger sternly pointed towards the couch, Wade's hand at your back - already guiding you towards it, as you protest.
"Least we can do, sweetheart," Logan smiles, "Can't remember the last time I had a meal this good."
"Excuse me," Wade gasps, as he slips on elbow-length mis-matched gloves,"Did my midnight toaster strudels mean nothing to you?"
It's your turn now, to sit on the couch. To watch, as Wade supervises. The quiet talk that swiftly turns to bickering. A yelp and a splash of hot water, before he's retreating.
Sinking down on the seat next to you, as your thoughts swirl. Soft memories of past shared evenings, and the planting of something that youâll tend to carefully, hoping it will flourish.Â
"You're looking at him like he's got balls on his neck," Wadeâs arm slings around your shoulders, tone knowing, "Got something on your mind, gorgeous?"
Your nose wrinkles at the visual, but then you turn thoughtful.
"Just like seeing both of you here." Your smile is soft, "It feels right, you know?"
He hums in agreement, and you glance his way, "Do you feel that way too?"
"Feels as right as Ryan Reynolds playing me in my upcoming biopic."
That has you cocking an eyebrow - whatever reference he's making flying over your head, "And that's... good?"
"Yeah, baby." He grins.
"Really fucking good."Â
The hunger follows you into the bedroom, after. Your question about dessert gets swiftly turned around on you - hands catching at your waist.Â
Threats and promises to devour you instead - that the ice cream you bought can wait - as lips press against yours. Another mouth at your neck, in your slow and often-interrupted journey to the bedroom.Â
Ganging up on you again, almost as if it were planned.Â
And youïżœïżœïżœre not sure if it was, or whether theyâve unconsciously become more in-sync, between their hours together at the apartment and in their work.Â
More alike than they are different, at their core - something youâre not sure youâd be able to convince them of, even though you see it.
Itâs sweetly familiar, when you finally fall into bed together. Clothes already stripped off, a messy pile mixing together against the woven floral rug as you fit together.Â
Spit pools on Loganâs tongue, as he sucks on his teeth. A low tilt of his head before his lips are parting, letting it drop where he has your thighs nudged apart, belly pressed down against the bed.
Warm, where it hits the cleft of your ass. His hand follows - a broad palm curving against soft skin, tugging you open.Â
âWhat do I have to do to let me have you here?â Loganâs thumb smears his spit against the tight ring, voice low and honey-smooth.Â
It makes you jolt, a soft sound pulling from your throat. Squirming, as his thumb comes back - rolling the pad against you.Â
âShe, shit-â Wade groans, as your mouth leaves his cock - the tip glistening as it drops against his belly, âOnly lets people sheâs dating fuck her ass.â
âWade!â You whine, as your thighs try to close - Loganâs spreading to keep you open.Â
A low rasp of a laugh, âIs that right?â
âNot me though. If youâre curious.â Wade hums, his arm still slung under the pillow, âSometimes even a first date is too slow.â
Dark eyes drag up, to the shift of hips. Over the leaking cock, lying flushed and hard against Wadeâs belly - something like hunger in the slow sweep up to the pulled-wide grin.
âThis is you handling it?â You hiss.
âYouâre acting like the man invented the elevator.â Wade shrugs - shifting to push himself up on an elbow, âTrust me, there is nothing more romantic than a âwhat are weâ conversation slipped into a discussion about double penetration. Weâre multi-tasking, gorgeous.â
Some of the tension eases, with the way he smiles at you. Thereâs not an ounce of worry in his expression, only the dark shadow of desire, highlighted with humor.Â
Waiting until you smile back, before he fixes Logan with a pointed look.Â
âLook. Iâm gonna level with you,â He sighs, as if divulging something imperative, âUntil youâre ready to commit to being Mr. Y/L/N, then fifth base is just gonna be out of the question.â
Thereâs the shake of a head, a low huff behind you. The slight stroke of fingers against your skin.
âAre you asking me out?â It comes slowly, in a rough rasp. As if putting pieces together.Â
Itâs you that turns then, your eyes finding his. Your smile is sweet - a swirling heat of hope in your belly, âDepends on your answer.â
Thereâs something dark in his eyes. A curl of his lips, as his head dips.
A kiss pressed against your spine, then lower.Â
âCome on Wilson.â He husks, âLetâs get our girl ready.â
A moan rips from you. First, from his words - the jolting butterflies in your belly, a pooling warmth. The sound lengthening, as his tongue flattens where his fingers had teased. Your back arches as Wade pumps his fist, before throwing a filthy âI-Told-You-Soâ smirk your way.
It glances off you. Your fingers curled in the sheets, as Logan shoulders your thighs further apart. A wet swipe that travels from your cunt to your hole, smearing your slick and his spit against your skin.Â
A finger nudging against you, as Wade leans - hand fumbling for the handle of the bedside table.Â
âYou think you can take both of us?â Logan purrs, as he carefully works you open. A fingertip sinking inside you, as you whine.Â
âWhat, you think we were joking about role-playing?â Wade scoffs,âWhy did you think all the dinner knives were missing? Lost âem all beneath the bed.â
Thereâs a shuffle, as he works himself further beneath you. A bottle of lube dropped on the bedspread, as his fingers reach - petting against your clit.
âTried two before, didnât we gorgeous? Me and the Pulverine, as we call him.â Wade coos, âNot as big as you, of course. But definitely a lot more sparkly.âÂ
âToyâs not the same thing,â Logan hums, as you clench around him. Sinking deeper, slowly pumping, ââs gonna be a tight fit, baby.â
The sensations are already overwhelming. Wadeâs fingers slipping down - fitting one, and then two fingers inside your slick pussy. His thumb nudging against your clit, teasing.
Loganâs weight against you, shifting as his hips grind into the mattress. The messy swirl of his tongue, more spit added to the mess. His thick finger already feels like a lot, pressed down to the knuckle. Slow in the way he works you open, the hot embers in your belly roaring brighter.
âI want it.â You moan, âWant both of you.âÂ
Wanted it for a while now. Wondered if theyâd take you like this. If youâd be able to take them, stuffed so full you could barely draw breath. Wanting to know what it feels like to come, with both of them pressed to the hilt inside you.Â
Words fail you, soon after. Thereâs the cold smear of lube against your skin, a second finger notched. Your cry muffled with the press of Wadeâs lips, tilting your face to his as their fingers find their rhythm together.
That steady swirl against your clit. How youâre clenching around them, your arousal slick on Wadeâs palm. The sharp rhythmic slap ringing through your ears as you pant into his mouth. Loganâs teeth against the soft curve of your ass, a muffled groan as he fits a second inside you.Â
Itâs a mimicry of later, but itâs enough. Something bright burning in your belly, fueled by their desire. Hot breath against your skin, Wadeâs cock grinding into your hip.Â
âCome on, gorgeous.â He murmurs against you, âLet me feel you come with his fingers buried in your ass.â
You choke on your moan. Hips shifting, pushing one deeper and then the other as you chase the building high. The sharp stretch long spooling into pleasure, twisting around your guts, shimmering.Â
ââm gonna-â Itâs breathed out, your eyes screwing shut. Focused on the countdown thatâs begun inside you, swiftly approaching with each crook of their fingers, âFuck, Iâm-â
Logan shifts, his breath ghosting against your spine, âCome for us, sweetheart.â
For us.Â
Your face buries against Wadeâs shoulder, as they bring you over the edge together. Working in tandem to take you apart, and they havenât even really begun - fingers crooking and curling as a bright pleasure blooms in your belly.Â
Wade had been right - itâs not the first time youâve been full like this. But Logan was right, too. Itâs different - the way you can feel them move together, as you whine. The orgasm ripples through you, the sensations drawing out as kisses are dropped between your shoulder blades.Â
Soft crooning in your ear, but itâs all muted - barely aware of the palms that run across your skin. The press of mouths against your heated skin - until the pulses in your core fades, the room coming back into focus.Â
They slip from you - first Wade, and then Logan. Youâve felt empty before but never like this, already missing the weight inside you. Craving more.
Thereâs a shift on the bed, Logan shouldering himself next to Wade, who youâre still stretched out on.Â
âCâmere, baby. Fuck, need to feel you.â
Hand at your hips, coaxing you up. Encouraging you to straddle his thighs, but then Wade is tsking - reaching for you, trying to turn you around.
âAnnnd I just gave myself a promotion to Director,â He adds with a long-suffering sigh, âWhen you want something done right, gotta do it yourself.â
Logan growls, as your weight leaves him, âThe fuck you talking about?â
Wadeâs brow arches, âThe fuck Iâm talking about is you doing this all wrong, peanut. When was the last time you partook in the devilâs threeway? Was it this century, at least?â
Hand gentle as he guides you to face away from Logan, your ass settling against the cradle of his hips.
âThere you go,â He coos, âHow am I going to give your pretty little kitty the attention she deserves if you have her all hidden away?â
Loganâs hard cock nestles against your belly, as your knees press into the mattress. Breath hitching as you gauge the size of him again. Hoping that the prep he did was enough - the soft buzz beneath your skin certainly has you feeling more than ready.
Slicking your fingers with more lube before they wrap around his shaft - a rough hiss sliding from his throat as they circle around, squeezing. Smearing it against swollen flesh, thumbing over the leaking head as you line yourself up.Â
Wade shifting to watch, his head tilted against Loganâs shoulder, his fist already wrapped around his cock as you start to slowly sink down.Â
âSit on it, sweetheart, there you go.â Logan growls, as he breaches you.Â
A sharp, inhaled breath as the tip sinks inside you. The building pressure and then the give - as you try not to clench down.
Pulling a rough sound from him. Fingers twitching at your hips - set on only steadying you. A rough edge creeping into his soft encouragement, âNice and easy, baby.â
Another inch, but it feels like double. Sweat beading along the nape of your neck, as you stretch around him.
âDoing so good,â He rasps, âTake it slow.â
âTaking it like a fucking champ, baby.â Wade interjects, âCouldnât have done it better myself, and Levy knows how often I thought about it.â
Your nails bite into his thighs, but it only makes his hips flex. Twin moans when it nudges him the rest of the way - your breath stolen when heâs seated flush inside you.
Not that different than when Wadeâs fucked you, even with the length heâs got on Logan. But itâs the girth that has your lips parting - a ragged moan with the experimental roll of your hips.
âPretty fucking sight.â Logan groans, through gritted teeth. Palms slipping around, gently tugging you back towards his chest.
His growl low in your ear, as his hips lift in an experiment thrust.
âGonna stuff you full, gonna let us do the work.â He husks, a hissed breath when you clench around him. âMake you feel good, alright?â
Palming at your tits, as Wade shifts into position. Swallowing your begging, whined out âplease-â as he kisses down your throat.Â
Over your breasts. The back of Loganâs hand, against the curve of your belly. His fist still working at his cock, an audible moan of appreciation when he settles between Loganâs thighs.
âYou look so good full of him.â Itâs mumbled out against your hip, âGod, I want to jerk off to this and let you use my cum as lube.â
Loganâs fingers tighten - pinching a peaked nipple as you moan, as kisses are peppered against your mound.
âFuck us into your tight ass.â
You cry out, when his tongue flattens against your clit. Fingers teasing at your hole, dipping inside to test how full you feel.Â
âSoaking wet, baby. You feeling good?â Wade croons, âOr does your greedy little pussy need more?â
âWade,â You keen, desperate. Rocking into the slow pump of Loganâs hips, his breath harsh in your ear.
His fingers crook, and curl.
âYou want us to take you there and back again to pound town?âÂ
âI swear to god,â You pant, desperate, âIf you donât get inside me, Iâll-, Iâll call Nate.â
His eyes gleam, âThat right? Still thinking about riding the olâ Cable car?â
Itâs Loganâs added growl that finally gets him moving. A smile still pulling wide, as he slips from you. His own desperation betrayed by the wet smear against his belly.
The slick tip of his cock, as he ruts against your folds. Your breath held, as he notches himself.
His dark eyes on your blown-wide ones, as he starts to sink in. It has your thighs trembling, as you whine. Clenching down without meaning to, as Logan groans.
Feeling the way he inches into you. What little space left filled as your pussy makes room for him. The tight clutch of your walls, a moan at the way he can feel Logan through the thin layer of skin between them.
A choked-out moan punched from his chest.Â
âMade to take us both. Werenât you, gorgeous?â He murmurs, as his hips move, âGoddamn perfect fit.â
They both move inside you. Stilted thrusts, off rhythm as you squirm between them. Logan getting impatient - throwing a glare Wadeâs way.
âStop moving when I do.â
Itâs met with a laugh, as Wadeâs hip snap a little harder. Filling you, the force jolting you against Logan, as your nails bite into his biceps.
âIâm driving this thing.â He counters, âCall me Sandra Bullock, because Iâm not about to let this bus dip below 50.â
His hand catching Loganâs wrist - resistance when he tugs, but then itâs going with him. Fitting the curve of his fingers against the base of your throat.
ïżœïżœïżœYou do what you do best and be the anchor. Keep her still for me, will you?âÂ
Loganâs fingers flex, but he grunts - the slightest pressure against your chest.Â
A pat against your hip, with a wink, âLet Daddypool do all the work.â
You huff, but the sound turns strangled as the sets the pace. Hands at your hips, tugging you to meet his thrusts. Fucking you back on to Logan, when his weight presses into you.
âThere we fucking go. How you feeling, baby?â
âFeels so good,âYou gasp, as the movement gets familiar. The slick slide of them inside you, the back and forth as they stroke your walls, as your arousal gleams against their cocks.Â
âKnow it does.â Wade grins, âThey donât call me DP for nothing.â
Logan grunts beneath you. Something biting held back - distracted, as his other hand wanders. Slipping across your hip, then down.
Tracing over your mound. Feather-light against your folds, feeling how you stretch open each time Wade goes balls-deep.Â
Your moan coming out ragged, when he teases your clit. Soft strokes with the pad of his finger, before two press and circle.
It makes you jolt, his laugh low in your ear.
Finding that familiar rhythm. Feeling the way your hips flex, seeking out his touch. How easily heâs able to wind you up now, from the times heâs taken you apart.Â
How itâs almost overwhelming, with the stuffed-full pressure of them inside you. With the saw of Wadeâs hips, as his cock nudges against the spongy spot inside you.
A rough hum when you clench down. Unable to do more than take what he gives you, with the way Logan cradles you against his chest.
It only adds to the surge of pleasure inside you. A near-divine pairing of sensations that has your fingers reaching, Wadeâs name a soft cry on your lips.Â
He flattens against you, to meet the way your mouth tips up. Itâs messy, open-mouthed as his hips slow to a grind. Hands skating up your body, against hips and waist.
Letting him in when he deepens it. A groan as he licks against your teeth. Needy presses of his mouth, spit smeared across your lips when it breaks. Another kiss peppered against your jaw, where Logan groans into your ear.Â
A unconscious shift of his head, and then their lips are brushing.
Loganâs cock throbs inside you, as Wade goes stiff and still. Itâs softer than it should be - no more than a shared breath, before Wade pulls back.Â
The hand at your neck flexes. Loosens, as it slips between you. Wrapping around the back of Wadeâs neck as he yanks him back down.
A growled out âfuckâ when they meet again, insistant this time. Vicious with the scrape of teeth, the wet swipe of tongue as Loganâs nails bite into skin.
Messy, as they pant into each other's mouths. Calloused fingers drifting down from your clit to split against your folds. Teasing where youâre filled, as Wadeâs moan turns filthy.
A matching sound escaping from Logan, long held back.Â
âFucking holding out on me,â Wade mumbles, when the kiss breaks, âHavenât been this wet since Capâs beard reveal.â
Eyes dark, when he feels how Logan moves inside you. Forgetting himself, as he chases the pleasure that threatens to peak inside him.
âBet you love knowing youâve been in all of our girlâs holes. Donât you, handsome?â Wade grins. Eyes still watchful - catching the clench of a jaw, as his lips return to yours.
The kiss is sweeter this time, even as he begins to drive into you. Each of your breaths coming in a whining gasp, pleasure once again winding inside you.
His mouth running away from him, determined to send you both over, âShould let me into some of yours. You know Iâd treat you right.â
âShut the fuck up. C-Canât come with you running your mouth.â Itâs panted out - half-hearted at best, and Wadeâs eyes gleam.
âFucking liar.â He crows, âBet you jerk it all the time to the thought of us screaming your name.â
Voice pitches up then, in a mimicry of yours, âOh, Logan. Fuck me right there with your monster dick-â
Logan strings tight beneath you with a snarl, as he tries to bury himself in your ass. The hand at your neck dipping to grasp at your hip, as the practiced rhythm turns sloppy.
Wade shifts - his weight leaned into your hips. Pinning you both down as he fucks into you, stroke after stroke. Â
Loganâs touch is sloppy against your clit - but with the way your boyfriendâs cock pounds against that spot inside you, itâs enough.
You donât even realize youâre whimpering. The way their names string together, the âplease, please, please-â that catches in your throat. Â
âYou gonna come too, baby?â He coos - thrilled, âYouâre both so fucking easy, arenât you?â
Logan moans in your ear when you squeeze around him, fingers pressing harder. A little faster, and with the next plunge of Wadeâs cock - you shatter.Â
Itâs all white noise, the faded star stickers on the ceiling becoming swirling the sky above as youâre pulled under.Â
Helpless, with the way youâre pinned between them. Coming again with the tight swirls against your clit, with them fully sheathed inside you.Â
The tight pulse of your orgasm around his sends Logan over.Â
Even with Wadeâs weight his hips still lift as he bows off the bed. A wounded groan, as he comes with you clenching down around him. Grinding himself into your hole as his cock throbs, emptying himself into you.Â
Thereâs a sing-songed and muted âmoney shotâ that has you groaning. Half-exasperation, half-mindless pleasure, as Loganâs hands roam. Holding you against him, ragged breath against your neck as you milk him empty.
Keeping you stuffed full, hilting his cock deeper when you squirm. Leaving Wade to catch up.
Shameless in the way he watches now, as molten pleasure thrums in your veins. Leaning back to see how you take them both. Picturing how youâll look after, thoroughly-fucked holes that will drip with them until morning.Â
Doesnât notice when his breath turns short, but you do.Â
âWanna feel you come, baby.â You coo, your smile soft and pleasure-drunk.Â
Hands tracing over his, overlapping and squeezing. The shallow lift of your hips to meet his thrusts, purposely squeezing him when he inches out - trying to keep him in.
âMake a fucking mess, Red.â Logan growls - joining you, âLet me feel you come inside her.â
âJesus Titty-Fucking Christ,â The rough laugh turns into a groan, âThink Iâm going to blow two loads at once-â
Hands overlapping, grasping on, holding you, as his hips pump faster. Head tipping - fitting between yours and Logans - as his back bows.Â
Coming inside you with a muttered out âoh fuck. fuck yes-â, cock jerking with each needy rut of his hips. The sound turns into a whine when teeth sink his neck, hard enough to bruise.Â
Yours on the other side, your soft moan in his ear as you feel the way he throbs as he spills into you again, and again.Â
Intense, in a way youâve never felt before. A connection that loops through you - from the press of your mouths, down to where you fit together.Â
Itâs fortunate that Loganâs hands still fit at your hips, with how fucked-out and boneless you feel. Trading one cock for another was one thing, but this - being claimed by both of them, the phantom ache as Logan withdraws- itâs something else entirely.Â
Your head dropping back to rest against his shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded as you wait for your pulse to stop galloping. Loganâs nose ghosting against your temple, an arm still thrown around your hips.Â
A hiss, when Wade slips from you. You can feel the mess theyâve made, sticky against your thighs. How they drip from your fucked-out holes, when you clench around nothing.Â
It must do something to him, the way Wade moans when he sits back. Fingers raising - mimicking a camera, complete with the click of his tongue as the shutter.Â
âIf that doesnât win me an academy award,â He hums thoughtfully.
âThen I donât know what the fuck will.â
Time slows down, after. The low hum of artificial rain from a device on your dresser, layering with the muted city outside. Doesnât know if itâs minutes or hours since he last moved, and he really canât bring himself to care.
As long as itâs still dark, then he knows theyâve still got time.Â
âSo are you going to bake us a sex cake?â Wade yawns, âYou know, for completely rocking your shit.â
âA what?â You stir against him - an eye cracking open.Â
Logan grunts, his face buried in your shoulder. A hand splayed across your belly, a tug as he pulls you closer.
âOh my god,â Wade chuckles to himself, âThere I go, mixing up timelines again. I infinitely prefer this one, but the way.â
Logan lets the two of you bicker, his eyes slipping shut again.Â
Your apartment is quieter than Wadeâs. The bed comparable to the one they shared last time. Canât remember the last time heâs felt a warmth like this.Â
Soft, where your back tucks against his chest. His hand shifts to your hip, curving against soft flesh. Wadeâs hand rests close enough to touch, fingers just brushing. Facing you, thighs twined together as he sandwiches you between them.
The shower had been nicer, as well. Snug, when you had pulled them in with you. Taking turns under the warm spray. He had commented on it - a way to drag out the scratch of fingers through his hair. The swirl of soap against his skin, and he had been too blissed out to bother with the facade when a second set of hands grabbed his ass.Â
Staying just a little longer, as their hands found their way between your thighs. Wade thumbing at your clit as his own fingers fucked the cum deeper into your cunt. Twin marks sucked into your neck, as your legs threatened to give out - still shaky from before.
You stir against him. Words heavy with sleep.
âWade didnât say it earlier.â You yawn - shuffling, so you can help over to face him.Â
Loganâs brow rises, as you clarify.
âThereâs a caveat to our earlier question.â
âGood word choice.â Wade hums, â11 points, and I bet you were a real pleasure to have in class.â
A low chuckle, when your hips press back against his in warning - as your eyes flip up to Loganâs.Â
âItâs a two-for-one deal,â The corner of your lips tug up, âItâs both of us, or nothing.â
âAll for one, and one for all,â Wadeâs chin hooks over your shoulder, ignoring how you elbow him, âAnd can you really afford not to take that?â
Supposes itâs cute, that you think you have to tell him this. That his eyes havenât equally wandered, even if itâs only half-admitted. Too caught on wondering if the only something good he had will change, if he truly allows himself to want something.Â
That itâs not only the feeling of your mouths on his cock that he revisits, though he does think of that often.
Thereâs other moments as well. Squeezing hands and smiles and the way you both look at him. The toothbrush that you had ready tonight, just incase he forgot his. The handle blue, when he slipped it in the cup - tucked next to red and purple.
Your words still spark brightly in his chest, settling low behind his ribs. It quells an uneasy twist thatâs been lingering there for the past few weeks.Â
Something unsteady, finally finding purchase.Â
âDonât know why youâre clarifying though, gorgeous.â His cheek rubs against yours like a cat. Those brown eyes meet his as well, and itâs hard to bite back the low inhale of breath.
âConsidering he tongue-fucked the shit out of me earlier, I think heâs good.â
He huffs in reply, but he canât bite back the curve of his lips. Not anymore - and he finds that he doesnât want to.
âYeah.â Logan agrees. That something turning soft inside him, the smile pulling just a little wider.Â
âIâm good.â
thanks so much for reading!! đ there's a couple more moments I'd love to explore with them in the future! (but in case I'm not able to, I wanted to end it on this sweet note between them all. )
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More thoughts and theories about our favorite Necromancer
My darlings, I have too many thoughts and my obsession is running wild. (How I missed you, hyperfocus). If you have read my last meta post about our Emmrich, here it is: First Meta Post
That is not a required read however. I am still wondering why anyone is reading my word vomit U_U
Anyway, I love reading other peoples theories, so please, send me yours. <3 And a lot of thanks and love for all you darlings who make this fandom such a beautiful and nice place. Especially to @jaal-ama-daravv - who makes the most beautiful videos, and writes such wonderful character studies.
Warning, from here on there will be spoilers as well as mentions of sex. If you don't want to read about any of that, do not read the rest.
Also pictures and way too many words. This is a ten page word document, save yourself while you can. I tend to go off on a tangent once I start writing. I am also well aware that not everyone will agree. This is just my personal read on Emmrich.
Now, after my first essay I have some more thoughts on Emmrich and Rook and specifically their intimate relationship.
Emmrich is such an interesting and baffling contradiction. On the one hand he is confident, self-assured, all manners and poise. He is smart, and he knows it. He has special gifts, and he knows it. He is confident without being proud. He likes to teach others without being arrogant. He still likes to learn about new things and is, as far as Iâve seen, never judgmental about different beliefs and ways of life. (Unless someone treats him with disdain or bully him)
He is a man who is confident speaking of his thoughts and feelings and fears. How he just casually drops his thanatophobia is just astonishing. He is honest and open-minded in the best ways.
And then there is the other side of him. The wet kitten side of him. As open and honest as he is about his emotions, when we get to the meat of it, to the scary bit, the real feely bit, he locks up completely. As long as it is surface level (or he can pretend its surface level), everything is up for discussion. But once we reach deeper and touch *love* he gets so scared and refuses to admit and commit to his feelings. And as much *death* scares him, love scares him more.
So how does that influence his intimate relationship with Rook?
According to the banter with Lace âeveryone knows about itâ. He was rather surprised by that.
That tells us two things:
They were trying to be sneaky or at least keep their private business private.
They failed, massively.
Add to that Laces comment about them moving rather fast (when, where? I would have loved to have seen that. Comments like that just give me the feeling that we should have had some more cutscenes after the dinner date, to show us those two besotted fools).
But back to them moving rather fast. I would guess that they both did a lot of gazing lovingly at each other, blushing, spacing out while watching their darling, stollen kisses in the hallway when they thought no one was watching, stuff like that. Just being to besotted fools.
But moving fast usually includes sex. Lots of needy, sweaty sex. The inability to keep their hands of each other.
That moves us to the question of the day â did they have sex before their coffin time?
Letâs look at what we know about Emmrich. Emmrich is no virgin. That man has experience. He had past lovers. But what he tells us at that sweet diner date â ânothing serious for years.â We know not much else besides his crush on a boy in his youth and his fling with the Orlesian Art Lady. He is not someone to kiss and tell and that is appreciated. That man has class, and we love him for it.
So - nothing SERIOUS for years. If he hadnât had ANY relationships in the past years, he would have said so. But what he says is that he did, in fact, have UNSERIOUS relationships in the last few years.
I would read that to be somewhere along the âfwb, lovers, affairs, paramours, companions, a fling, a little romanceâ line. Something not purely, but mainly physically driven. Someone you like and respect, you can go out and have a good time with, have lots of amazing sex with (b/c he is a living being and has his needs). Spending time with people he liked, was sexually attracted too, but nothing as serious as love. A physical relationship. A little thrill, some fluttering, but never that deep.
Not to say that those situationships would not have been romantic. He is (buried under all that resignation) a deeply romantic man. I am pretty sure he went on nice romantic dates with his previous paramours too. That this is something he just enjoys too much. Treating a companion with some quality time, not just in, but also out of the bedroom.
But after heâd given up on his dreams, he did not have any notion of those flings being more than a âenjoy the momentâ. There was never the expectation of deeper feelings, beyond friendship, attraction and/or respect. All those romantic gestures were nothing more than a little bit of âplay pretendâ. To give himself the illusion of true romance, just for a little time.
Take the fact that you can go a âeverything you do is creepy but I still flirt with you and I want you to throw me over that tombstoneâ and his comment on âthe attraction of the forbiddenâ? This is not a relationship born of mutual respect and deeper feelings but out of purely physical attraction. And he is OK with that.
I want to repeat â Emmrich is very much okay with a casual, sexual affair. He does not require love to have a relationship with someone.
And then think about that Johanna calls Rook specifically his âparamourâ. Which is a lover, especially an illicit one. This word was very specifically chosen by Johanna. For various reasons, I would think.
For one, I do believe that it is a dig at his dreams of the eternal flame. Itâs a dig at him, that Rook is not his love, but his paramour. A lover for a time. To be parted from soon enough. B/c that silly dream of his, as if it ever would become reality.
Second, I think it is a comment on the way his relationships often went, especially in the past years. Those unserious flings of his. Never to amount to anything substantial.
Did he try to have something serious in the past? Oh yes, for sure. But it never worked out. Then he gave up his dream and just let himself have a good time with people he found to be nice and attractive.
To pick up my point of self-sabotage from my last meta post â Iâve come to a point where I believe Emmrich is a kind of chaser. I know someone like that and itâs so fucking tragic.
Emmrich feels deeply and strongly. When he falls in love with someone itâs a lot of emotion. But at that point itâs all dream, want, wish. As soon as someone returns these feelings - those dreams, wants and wishes become reality. And reality is scary. In this wishful dream about the eternal flame, there is no fear. No fights. No loss. But that is not reality. As soon as it becomes reality, he gets scared. Before, his feelings were no threat, because you canât lose what you donât have. Once those feelings are returned, there is a clear possibility of losing, of being lost, of being left behind.
Emmrich is not a chaser because he enjoys the hunt. He is a chaser because being loved by someone is scary. So damn scary. So, he starts to pick fights and is looking for excuses. From being the chaser, he becomes the chased. He is hunted by his fears, and his fight or flight instincts go all flight.
After years of this cycle he gives up. Resigns himself to flings and little romances without even thinking of more. Or so he thinks. Dreams like that donât die, they just get buried.
And Iâd think that there was not many, even of those short term flings, lately. His life revolves around work and Manfred.
Now remember he comments on Rook âshowing unexpected interest in a new companionâ.
First of all â unexpected.
They are a daring adventurer. He thinks of himself clearly as the more boring one, compared to Rook. He never expected any of those flirts. But he is clearly flattered.
Second â companion.
That was such a weird way of saying âhey do you like me?â. This whole âcompanionâ thing does not scream âI have FEELZ for you/you have FEELZ for meâ but rather, âI think you might want to spend some quality time with meâ.
The possible answers - dashing good looks, kindness, his way of words.
He feels he is fortunate if Rook thinks him good looking. Hallo, Mr. Professor, sir⊠Have you looked in the mirror lately? Consider that he is meticulously grooming himself, takes his exercises daily in the morning. That man does not like himself aging. I think it is a reminder of how his pending death is a step closer every day. But it shows, to him, that his efforts of taking care of himself are not in vain. Or maybe it shows him that his age does not matter. Rook finds him attractive despite (or because) of his physical age.
Rooks comment on his very charming way of putting things makes him hope his years behind the lectern have proved useful. Hey *years* behind the lectern. Again, this is a way of saying his age is NOT a problem but a benefit.
If Rook remarks his kindness, he answers âyou humble meâ. Itâs the one answer that does not touch his age/experience/looks. Itâs a remark on an innate character trait he possesses. Kindness. His whole demeanor in this option shows he is actually touched. And maybe a bit baffled. He did not expect this, at all. Its like he sees his kindness not as an attractive trait. Which he should. He is nice without TM and its sexy as hell.
The next part is his statement âIf your attentions go beyond charming flattery⊠that would interest me, indeedâ. This reads to me not necessarily as âdo you have feelings for meâ but as âdo you just enjoy the flirting, or do you want to do more than flirting?â
And oh boy, does he want to do more than flirting. I want to repeat my earlier statement â this man has given up on love. But some little fling with an exiting young adventure who was constantly, awkwardly flirting with him? Hell, yeah.
(I want to remind you that we were able to have mutually enjoyed flirts with Dorian as fem!Inky. You can flirt with someone and still never want to fuck them. And you are also perfectly able to want more than flirting without having deeper feelings. Like sweet, dump Shepaloo said it so eloquently âLets bang, okay?â)
Again, I want to pick up a point of my last post, that this is all surface level thoughts. I do believe that their emotional attraction and depth of feelings go deeper, from the start. But how often does it take quite a bit of time to realize oneâs own feelings. Especially this wonderful, silly man whose modus operandi is running away.
Now, an interested Rook can answer in an open âlets see where this goesâ way. Mirroring his rather open idea of a little romance, a fling, some quality time. Something that does not have to end in an eternal flame, but a simple enjoyment and exploration of the moment.
Rook can also reply with a âI think they do.â â What Rook actually says is âI think they alreadyâŠâ
And conveniently Rooks answer here is cut short by our sweet boy Manfred. They get cut short, no matter what answer you choose, but in this specific case, I am convinced this was very much on purpose. What would the whole sentence have been?
âI think they already go way beyond flattery.â (?!?) Something along those lines. But that goes into danger zone. WAY into danger zone.
If Rook had finished that sentence, at that point in their budding romance? It would have been over before is all started. Too much, too soon. Too much for him, period.
Now we have the hard lock â their sweet romantic moment in the Memorial Gardens. And he is smitten. He fell hook, line, and sinker for his own play pretend. Just a little romance, but that man is falling, fast. (Not that he would admit that to himself).
A beautiful date, all arranged by Emmrich, to spend time with Rook. Because a couple should have a quite moment to get to know each other. I mean there were menu cards with gilded edges, ffs. And, oh yes, they were âlets dig into the feelingsâ, he said couple. He is falling, falling, falling fast. But it still hasnât hit him, how deep he has fallen for his darling Rook. Poor Emmrich.
Then a fight, where we really see the wet kitten side of him for the first time. A little wet, feral kitten, hissing at the hand thatâs trying to feed it.
Emmrich is lashing out for no good reason (or no good reason for anyone but himself). There is no real confidence there but a desperate act of pretending. An iron (slipping) grip, trying to control himself and the narrative. Shoulders squared, back straight, an arrogant stance, raised chin, turned half-away from Rook, and a condescending way of talking to Rook.
Like I said in my last post â he is working his way up to breaking up with them. And he tells himself itâs like ripping off a bandaid. Be strong and confident and say what you have to say, and they will see the wisdom of that.
Itâs only that, they donât. Because there IS NO wisdom in what he is doing right now. They donât take his bullshit but throw it back at him. They donât accept his mock excuses.
Look at him here, how he looks down ON them. I canât recall any other time he looks down on Rook, despite him being a tall king.
Especially the route where Rook throws it in his face that he DOES in fact love them. Speak what he canât even think.
âI canât⊠At myâŠâ
âI canât love you. At my ageâŠâ Why not? Does he not deserve love, just because he is a bit older? Itâs just heartbreaking how he views himself.
And again, he lashes out.
âI am perfectly serious.â So is Rook.
âOne of us has to pay attention to these things.â As if Rook is not paying attention. They got to the meat and bones of his problem in just a few seconds.
No matter what route you go here, the gist is the same. He is scared shitless, treats Rook like a child, and goes on how the is the only one thinking the important thoughts.
When Rook in reality way ahead of him. They thought about it and came to the conclusion that being with Emmrich is a really good idea.
Rook knew they were falling for someone older than them. (Even if that age difference is just a decade, with a mid-40s Rook.) They knew it, and still went with it. They are not a child who is too inexperienced and stupid to make decisions about their (love) life.
But now, here, at this moment? Emmrich treats them with disdain. Like a silly little person, who does not think things through. He holds himself above them. Physically and mentally. They are too young, he knows better.
And not once has he done that before. He always treated them as an equal. He follows them into the most dangerous situations ffs. He trusts them with his life in a fight against would-be gods.
All that fear and anger at himself that reaches a new high get redirected at Rook.
The next day they are off to Tearstone Island. That night must have been hell. For both of them. But its going to get much much worse.
In any case, Emmrich seems to have come to some conclusion or realization, because on that island? He apologizes.
They both did react very emotionally, but he came at Rook with superiority and, to a certain degree, dishonesty. All fueled by his fear. So that he is the one to take the first step and apologize to Rook instead of doubling down? An important step. As I said in my last post â he NEEDED to be called out. A sweet and nice counterargument would not have had the impact Rooks raw an honest emotion hat on him.
Emmrich âRook? Darling? I wanted to say-â
Rook âYeah, about that argumentâŠâ
Emmrich â(Sighs) Itâs no time to apologize, is it?â
And here we have the most heartbreaking line, in hindsight. âWeâll talk back home, Emmrich. I promise.â
(Narrator: but they would, in fact, not talk about it back home. Because someone would not go home.)
One fight and weeks of horror later, they find themselves in a private crypt and finally they do more than share a kiss.
Now - to the point I originally wanted to explore with this post â is this in fact their first time? (I am sorry, but my brain is a circle and nothing makes sense)
Letâs look at what evidence we have from the cut-scene.
Rook did not know he is an early riser.
That leaves two possibilities:
They never had sex up until that point.
They did have sex, but never spent the night together.
Now what does that mean?
This depends a lot on your personal Rook and how they feel about sex in general. If Rook wants to wait, or is not ready, he will absolutely accept and respect that.
But for the sake of this analysis lets go with the idea that Rook is not opposed to sex at an earlier date.
They never slept with each other
Why? He clearly was not opposed to casual relationships in the past. What would hold him back now? Especially if you recall Laces comment about them moving fast. Why not jump into the bedroom?
Now my first crack theory is that they get interrupted, like every time. (Rook interrupted The Dread Wolf, and now he cursed them to always be interrupted when they want to have some private time)
But now, in all seriousness, maybe itâs just that part of him DOES realize that this goes beyond a very unserious relationship. That they both have deeper feelings, that spark of something greater, something beautiful.
So, he holds back. He does not give his all. He is charming, he is flirty, he takes Rook on dates. But itâs all very technical. Very performative. Yes, he is a very romantic man, yes he enjoys those moments. But there is always a feeling of control.
Those moments when you see him let go a bit (that kiss beneath the eternal lovers, âI think, sometimes you indulge meâ), are so beautiful and you glimpse a bit of the man behind those walls.
He has a tell, you see. (I am telling you about it further down)
But generally, he feels very much in control of himself. And to lie with Rook? To go all the way? Too dangerous. Who knows what happens in that sweet moment after la petit mort? What secrets would his lips spill?
2. They slept together, but did not spent the night together.
They do have sex, but sleep alone in their own beds. Casual sex is fine, but to fall asleep in each otherâs arms? Too much. Too real. Sex okay, but sleepy post coitus cuddly? Woah, slow down your horses.
So, they have sex, preferably in Rooks bed. First, does he even have a bed? Second, itâs way easier to leave Rooks bed after the act, than throwing them out afterwards.
Oh, and how many reasons he has. Rook needs their uninterrupted sleep; they are stressed and must have proper rest. He wants to get some reading done before he retires. He needs to look after Manfred.
Oh, he is a bad liar, for sure. He is lying more to himself than to Rook. I would think that (if this is the build up to their fight) Rook realizes that he is giving poor excuses.
And the sex itself? A technical 10/10. He knows his anatomy, after all. But his heart is not really in it. He canât allow himself to. He holds back, keeps a tight lid on his emotions. They both are well spent afterwards, but like so much else, itâs performative. Technically very well executed, but rarely do you see HIM, the real him, behind all that performance. Whenever something slips through, he reels back and closes up.
And then we are in that crypt. Rook was gone for weeks. The last thing they said that night before were words of anger. Rook called him out on his feelings and from that point on there was no possible way of lying to himself anymore. Those feelings were there. They were real. Rooks feelings were real. And those weeks spent in desperation, trying to  get them back? Those walls came crashing down.
His true face, when all the walls are gone? You see that face when Rook leads him to the coffin. There is no pretense anymore. No performance. Just him, and all his love for Rook. The amount of emotion the animation team packed into those short moments in the cutscene? Mindblowing. Who ever crafted that expression on his face? They are the GOAT. I watch this part of that scene on repeat, and it never gets old.
So, I told you about how he has a tell, yes? Okay, two actually, but we all know surprised pikachu Emmrich. In that last scene it is resolved in the most beautiful way.
He looks down, when something touches him deeply, when he goes into his feels.
A few (way to many) examples:
And the worst wet kitten look? After the fight, when Rook leaves.
Its a look of shame. Of hurt. This man is hurting so badly.
Now here at the end we have that moment when Rook leads him to the coffin. His face turns down, like before. But here he looks up at Rook. He does not turn his eyes away but looks directly at them. Ahhh my heart.
Now, think about the fact that ROOK is leading in that moment?
In those moments where Rook leads or startles him (or is simply annoying enough so that the truth slips out), you see the most emotion from him.
Rooks flirting startles him, and he has a pikachu face reaction every time.
Their first kiss? Rook leans against the monument, and leans up, telling him without words that NOW is the time for a kiss. How can he not go for a second kiss?
That moment when Rook calls Manfred âour sonâ? He very conveniently ignores the word âOURâ and goes in defense mode over the word âsonâ. But called out on his feelings for Manfred? How can he deny them? He has tears in his voice when he says how he would not exchange this moment for anything? A real, deep emotion.
In their fight Emmrich is again all technical, all performance, so logical (or what he sells himself as logic). But Rook wrestles that moment from him and takes lead, calls him out on his bullshit.
In the crypt Rook pulls him up into a kiss and then leads him to the coffin, guiding him, taking him with them.
Most of the other times he takes the lead, very much in control. But the most emotions you get from him, are those times Rooks leads, when he lets go of this tight control over himself, or he is startled in to a reaction. For all the age difference that is played up in their relationship, in the important moments Rook is the one who guides. And he follows where they lead.
Those little moans he makes? If they did have sex before, I bet he did not make those sounds then. Where they did have some incredible sex, now they are making love. Open, vulnerable. He gives in.
And then they fall asleep together. Skin to skin, arms and legs intertwined. Their hands caressing, no sound but that of their heartbeats and soft breaths. Pure and utter contentment. In that moment nothing exists but them. Can you imagine that moment he woke up? The amount of emotions he must have felt then? This need to speak those little words? Those huge little words. He does not say them, not yet. But he is almost ready. Â
Finally, they stand there, on the battlefield of Elgarânans madness. And he tells Rook. The last wall falls. Gives the most precious thing he can give to anyone.
âI love you.â
#emmrich#emmrich volkarin#emmrich x rook#emmrook#emmrich meta post#meta post#character study#dragon age#dragon age veilguard#dragon age the veilguard#da#datv#dav
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"Is he, you know, 'from Naboo'?" <- a sentence that can now be used to imply suspicions someone is Sith.
Idk this is the funniest thing in the world to me. I'm remembering 'the difference between blood and sweetness' where Padme comments that people from Naboo don't explode on death, like that's a thing people would normally suspect.
I would happily read an entire fic of just Naboo culture being absolutely ridiculous.
Thank you so much for your prolific rarepair fics and star wars creations kat, I'm having the time of my life
I need Naboo to be The Weirdest Fucking Planet. I need it. It's gorgeous and peaceful on the surface but you scratch one layer down and it's child queens who are so likely to be assassinated from within their own society that they need multiple body doubles. Like. How does that become your system of government. How are you picking mayors who are twelve and queens who are fourteen and this is normal. I want to study them under a microscope.
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Notable Titbits from the ever revealing Josh interview đ«
Caitriona gifted us with the doozy "Our Nanny" comment, but there was so much more gold to be unearthed. The interview was admittedly a bit of a jaw dropper.
One understated and easily missed nugget was the part where they were all discussing Richard's hidden talents. Cait chimed in and was being complementary about his skills and says "on the surface, you think there's not much going on, but then you dig down and you're like, Jesus." If you watch Sam's reaction carefully, you'll detect a hint of jealousy in his demeanour.
A particular favourite moment of mine was the Never have I Ever had a scene partner with bad breath moment. Whilst Ric and Sophie blathered on, Sam and Cait were locked in a fixated gaze for some time, communicating visually until Cait broke the ice and whispered, "Not you hun." She then proceeded to mutter something under her breath that she didn't want anyone to hear (very secretive behaviour for costars) while Sam continued to stare at her almost in a paralysed fashion. Eventually, Sam snapped out of his paralysis "we've come to terms with each other" is what he was able to muster while he unconsciously and instinctively touched hands with Cait
All that thinking time and all Caitriona could say was that "You have good personal hygiene." Wtf đ. But best of all was when Sam thought it would be a good idea to pull out of a bag, mini toothpaste, gum and mouthwash...."I've got to make sure I have good dental hygiene." Why would that be necessary, Sam,when you are no longer filming OL scenes? Oops, fucked up again đ€Ș. Please do yourselves a favour and go back and watch Cait uncomfortably shift in her seat.
But my absolute pick of the bunch was when Josh handed out the mean comments cards for them all to read and Freudiantly told them, " You're going to say them to your friends and family here." Yes, FAMILY! Oh boy, what a juicy slip of the tongue that was. Friends would have been sufficient, but the "and family" clearly pertained to the two family members in the cast. Thank you, captain Josh for putting that nail in the coffin đđ.
And then there was the body language that spoke for itself. I have nothing else to add your honour.
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All of the above, andâthis might seem weirdly specific, but there are enough fandoms in which this situation is true that I feel itâs worth pointing out.
If youâre reading fic thatâs based on a much earlier/older piece of media (a novel or otherwise) that now has a much newer film or TV adaptation, please donât leave a comment along the lines of âWow, this fic is so good for as little as you had to work with all those years ago!â
We didnât have little to work with, my God. That earlier novel (or other piece of media) was a world unto itself, and we built worlds upon it. If you have the impulse to write a comment along those lines, just donât. Iâve gotten that a few times on my Good Omens fic in the past few years since the show came out, and although those commenters likely intended it as high praise, it doesnât feel like high praise. It feels like an insult to everything we accomplished prior to the newer adaptation. There are ways of leaving feedback without being backhanded about it, I promise. Thanks in advance.
So a few days ago I got a comment on one of my stories. It was not the worst comment I have ever gotten but it was not nice either. I found it rude, demanding, and condescending. I confess, my reply to this comment was snarky and sarcastic.
I then got a reply from the poster claiming they were very blunt due to being neurodivergent and that they could not help it. They just wanted me to write them a story. I had ruined their good opinion of me.
I wrote back apologizing for hurting their feelings. I explained they had also hurt my feelings and that my response was partially in response to that, partially because I know who comments like that affect authors. That we work hard on our stories. I pointed out they had not even said they liked my story. I gave them advice on how they could have phrased their comment instead that would have made it less offensive to the author. At this point I was going to give them the benefit of the doubt. Yeah no, they sent another response calling it victim blaming and cyber bullying. The victim blaming was pointed out solely in response to the first line they said which was 'I am sorry your feelings were hurt' Also got an accusation of name calling, which no I did not. At this point I am just going to delete their comments and block them.
For people who consider themselves to be blunt but want to consider the author's feelings as well, here is some comment advice. The comment I received that started this was 0/4.
Tell the author you liked their story. You can put details or even just a line of heart emojis. If you did not like the story, silence is golden. Please use the back button.
Do not be demanding. We are not machines. Something like, 'I can't wait to see what happens' next is fine 'UPDATE' is not
It is fine to share ideas, but just like in 2. do not be demanding. Unless the author has asked for prompts, do not have expectations
Unless an author has asked for it, no constructive criticism. It is fiction, let the author write what they want.
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sliding into the requests and asking for something where Mafia Lando gets jealous when some guy flirting with you and he dosnt find out till he walks on this guy flirting and reader and Lando aren't even dadting but it should be common knowledge reader is off limits. đ«Š
Your work is in flick. Like seriously you're other fics are so good. đ€
The Rookieâs Mistake
Summary: In which a Rookie makes a mistake by unknowingly flirting with someone that belongs to Lando.
Genre: Mafia!Lando
TW: Mafia
A/N: thank you soo much for the request and the feedback. It brings me joy to read the positive comments! I hope you like it! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!
Masterlist
It was late in the evening when you stepped into the dimly lit bar, the familiar hum of low conversation and clinking glasses greeting you.
The space was quiet, but that was how you liked it.
It was the kind of night where you could relax with a glass of wine, the weight of your thoughts temporarily lifting in the presence of a small crowd.
Youâd been invited to this particular gathering, a casual evening among Landoâs men. Theyâd told you he was busy with something that couldnât wait, as always.
But tonight, you werenât upset by his absence. After all, youâd grown used to it.
You ordered your drink from the bar and settled in, letting your eyes scan the room.
Landoâs empire wasnât easy to navigate, and most of his men understood that. They knew who you wereâLandoâsâand they respected the boundaries that came with that. No one dared to flirt, not without serious consequences.
But the key word was most.
And tonight, it was a rookieâs turn to make a fatal mistake.
You saw him the moment he walked inâa fresh face among the usual crowd of hardened men.
His name was Luca.
You didnât know much about him, except that he had just been assigned to Landoâs inner circle.
He looked cocky, sure of himself, his expensive jacket and confident gait announcing that he was more than just a rookie to him.
As you took another sip from your glass, you noticed him glancing in your direction.
There was an arrogance in his eyes that made something in your stomach tighten. He was the kind of guy who walked into a room and immediately thought he had the world at his feet.
Lucaâs eyes flicked to you again.
This time, the look was different.
It was bold.
Too bold.
You raised an eyebrow, internally rolling your eyes. There was always one rookie who thought they could play it like that.
He sauntered over to where you were sitting, his smile broad and completely unaware of the invisible warning signs radiating from every person in the room.
Every one of Landoâs men who saw him move in your direction stiffened, exchanging wary glances.
They didnât have to speak to each otherâthey knew better.
Luca, on the other hand, was too full of himself to notice.
âHey,â he said, standing a little too close to your table as he flashed you a confident smile.
âI donât think weâve met. Nameâs Luca.â
You looked up at him from your seat, coolly assessing him.
âI know who you are,â you replied, your voice calm, almost disinterested.
Luca chuckled, his smile widening. âOh yeah? I guess Iâm pretty memorable.â
He took a seat across from you without waiting for an invitation.
âYouâre not from around here, are you? You donât look like the usual crowd. More like⊠well, youâre too pretty to be hanging out with this lot.â
The comment made you roll your eyes inwardly. Youâd heard worse from men who were actually worth your time, but Lucaâs arrogance was another level. He didnât even seem to care that the men who worked for Landoâwho worked with Landoâwere now all watching, a few of them with uneasy glances.
But none of them intervened yet.
No one dared.
âIâm not some random girl, if thatâs what youâre implying,â you said, choosing your words carefully.
You wanted to make it clear, but without outright insulting him just yet.
âOf course, of course,â Luca replied, his voice smooth as silk, but there was a certain smugness to it now.
âIâm just saying⊠maybe you could use some company. Itâs not every day you see someone so stunning walking around this place. What do you say? We grab a drink and see where things go?â
You werenât sure whether to laugh or roll your eyes.
The audacity.
He was so naive, thinking youâd fall for some charming line. This wasnât your first encounter with men like himâbut it was definitely one of the more brazen.
But before you could respond, you felt it.
A shift in the air.
A dark weight that wasnât there just moments ago.
The subtle sound of boots hitting the floor, slow, deliberate.
Luca didnât notice.
He was too busy leaning in, clearly enjoying the small audience of Landoâs men who were now holding their breath.
The rest of the crew, including Marco, the long-time veteran of the group, exchanged glances.
They all knew exactly what was going on, and none of them were about to step in.
Not unless things went south.
Then, just as Lucaâs hand moved a little too close to yours, his words still echoing in your ears, a voice you knew all too well interrupted.
âLuca.â
The sound of Landoâs voice sent an immediate wave of tension across the room.
The entire group of men froze, but Luca, for all his arrogance, didnât seem to realize what was happening until Landoâs figure appeared in the doorway.
Lando stood there, eyes dark, sharp, like an animal sensing its prey. His gaze flicked to Luca, and then to you.
The moment he saw your face, the storm that had gathered around him seemed to calm, just slightly.
His expression softened, but his eyes were still cold, piercing through Luca like daggers.
âLando,â Luca said, rising quickly, wiping his hands on his pants as if trying to look more composed.
âItâs nothing, I was justââ
âDonât,â Lando interrupted, his voice low, deadly calm. âI know exactly what you were doing.â
The men in the room stiffened, each of them understanding the unspoken command in Landoâs tone.
Luca looked a little less confident now, though he was still trying to salvage his dignity.
âYouâre new here,â Lando continued, taking slow steps toward the table.
The air felt thick now, heavier with every move he made.
âBut you shouldâve learned by now that you donât flirt with whatâs mine.â
Luca blinked, his smile fading as he seemed to realize the gravity of the situation.
âLando, I didnât knowââ Luca began, but his voice trailed off as Landoâs glare intensified.
âYeah, thatâs the problem,â Lando said, his voice dangerously soft. âYou didnât know.â
You watched as Lucaâs face flushed, all the confidence he had been exuding evaporating in an instant.
Lando was not someone to be messed with, and everyone in this room had known that from the start.
Landoâs eyes didnât leave Luca for a moment. He gestured to the door with a sharp, almost imperceptible motion.
âGet out,â he ordered, his voice icy. âAnd donât come back until youâve learned some respect.â
Lucaâs face contorted into a mix of frustration and embarrassment, but he knew better than to argue.
He quickly mumbled a hasty apology and made a retreat toward the door, his shoulders hunched in defeat.
As soon as the door closed behind him, the tension in the room lifted, but only slightly. Marcoâs eyes met Landoâs, a quiet understanding passing between them. It was the kind of unspoken language only Landoâs men understoodâthe kind of trust that ran deeper than words.
Lando turned to face you, his gaze softening, the dangerous edge fading.
âAre you okay?â
You nodded, exhaling the breath you didnât realize youâd been holding. âIâm fine.â
Landoâs jaw tightened, his eyes still a little too intense. âNo one touches whatâs mine, Y/N. Not even the rookies.â
You smiled faintly, letting your gaze soften. âI know.â
And for a moment, it was just the two of you in the room. All the chaos, all the power, all the danger seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the quiet hum of the bar and the unspoken promise in Landoâs eyes.
You were his. And in this world of shadows and blood, nothing was ever going to change that.
Thank you for reading!
#lando x reader#lando x you#lando imagine#lando norris#mafia au#f1 mafia au#f1#f1 x reader#f1!mafia#mafia!lando#Mafia
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IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT - CH.1
Chapter One: Be The Light, When All The Lights Go Out
Summary: You, a skilled healer, are brought to Rome by Senator Gracchus under the pretense of treating gladiators and Roman elites. You work with General Marcus Acacius to fight against the cruel reign of the twin emperors. Through danger and shared hope, your connection becomes a source of strength as you both dream of freeing Rome.
Paring: General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Age-Gap(ish), Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, War, Romance, Politics, Alternate Universe, Eventual SMUT, Slavery, Sexism, Misogyny, Guilt, PTSD, Rebellion, Empires, (Very Light) Strangers-to-Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Crowds, Shouting, Animals, Duels, Loose Historical Fiction,
Word Count: 5.8k
A/N: I COULDNâT HELP MYSELF⊠I NEEDED TO START THIS FIC. RRRAAAAAHHHH. Also, Marcus and Lucilla are NOT married in this fic/AU lmao. I might get some terms wrong since I canât find the complete script yet (pls help) so I'll be editing this as time passes. And Iâm like⊠not a historian so lol.Â
Side note: Iâm dyslexic and English isnât my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!
Song: If There's Nothing Left by NIKI
â Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |
A DAY BEFORE THE RANSACKING OF NUMIDIA
ROME, 200 A.D. â DAY
The air in your clinic was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of sweat. Shouts and groans from the injured filled the space, their voices blending into a cacophony of pain that would have broken a lesser person. But not you. Â
You moved with the precision of a master sculptor, your hands steady as you sutured the gaping wound on a gladiatorâs shoulder. Blood seeped into the linen bandages youâd prepared, but you didnât flinch. Your focus was unshakable, the outside world forgotten as you worked to save the life in front of you.
General Marcus Acacius stood in the shadows of the doorway, his imposing frame unnoticed amidst the chaos. His dark eyes were fixed on you, the healer who had garnered whispers throughout Rome. He had heard of your work, of courseâhow you treated anyone who came through your doors, from nobles to slaves, without regard for their station. It was rare to see such defiance of societal norms, rarer still to see it done with such quiet grace. Â
He watched as you leaned closer to the wounded man, murmuring words of reassurance. Â
âStay still, brave one,â you said softly, your voice low and soothing, cutting through his pain like a balm. âThe worst of it is over. Youâll be back in the arena soon enough, though Iâd rather you didnât return at all.â Â
The gladiator managed a weak chuckle, wincing as you tied off the last stitch. âYou speak as if I have a choice.â Â
Your lips curved into a wry smile, though sadness lingered in your eyes. âPerhaps one day you will.â Â
Marcus found himself captivatedânot just by your skill, but by the quiet authority you wielded in the room. It was rare for him to see someone move with such purpose, commanding respect without ever raising their voice. Â
âYou risk much, treating slaves and gladiators,â Marcus said, his voice deep and cutting through the din like a blade.Â
You didnât look up, finishing your work before addressing him. âAnd you risk much, General, entering a place like this.â Â
There was no fear in your tone, only a calm defiance that piqued his curiosity. Marcus stepped closer, his boots echoing on the stone floor.
âIâve seen many healers,â he said, his gaze unwavering. âNone with hands as steady as yours. Nor one who speaks so freely.â Â
You glanced up at him then, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that momentarily silenced the chaos around you. He was a striking figure, his presence commanding and his face marked by years of war. But it was his eyes that caught youâthe deep well of pain and weariness they carried, hidden beneath a veneer of stoicism. Â
âPerhaps thatâs because most healers know when to hold their tongue,â you replied, arching a brow. âBut Iâve found that truth tends to have a healing quality of its own.â Â
The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile. âAnd yet, truth has also been known to end lives, particularly in Rome.â Â
You returned your attention to the gladiator, checking the bandages one last time. âThen it seems we both walk a fine line, General.â Â
Something about the way you said his title felt less like deference and more like acknowledgment. It wasnât fear or awe that guided your words, but a quiet understanding of who he was and the power he held. Â
Marcus watched as you moved to the next patient, a young boy with a deep gash on his leg. Despite the blood staining your hands and the weariness etched into your features, you treated the boy with the same care and kindness you had shown the gladiator.
âWhy do you do it?â Marcus asked suddenly, his voice softer now. âWhy risk your safety for those Rome has deemed unworthy?â
You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder. For a moment, the question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.
âBecause someone has to,â you said simply. âIf I donât, who will?â
The honesty of your answer struck something deep within Marcus. He had spent years justifying his actions as a soldier, telling himself that the violence he carried out was for the good of Rome. Yet here you were, defying the very structure that upheld his world, all for the sake of compassion.
As Marcus continued to watch you, he couldnât help but wonder if he was witnessing something rareâsomething that Rome, in all its grandeur, could not crush. For the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope.
You broke the silence first, turning to face him fully. âShouldnât you be with your armyâoverseeing the ships and preparing to ransack Numidia, yet another city, all for the so-called âGlory of Romeâ?â You arched a brow at him, shifting your weight onto one hip with a subtle air of defiance.
The corner of Marcusâs mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. âPerhaps,â he replied, his voice low, âbut I find myself drawn elsewhere.â
âElsewhere?â You tilted your head, your tone edged with skepticism. âSurely the great General Marcus Acacius has more pressing matters than standing in a healerâs clinic.â
âPerhaps,â he repeated, stepping closer. âBut standing here, I begin to wonder if those pressing matters might pale in comparison to what Iâve found.âÂ
Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly, letting out a soft laugh. âFlattery from a general. I never thought Iâd see the day.â
âItâs not flattery,â he said, his eyes locking with yours. âItâs truth.â
You couldnât help but laugh softly, shaking your head. âCareful, General. If you keep talking like that, people might start to think you have a heart.â
âPerhaps I do,â he said, his tone quiet, thoughtful. âAnd perhaps itâs found something worth fighting for, beyond Rome.â
Your breath caught at his words, your heart pounding in a way you hadnât felt in years. But before you could respond, Marcus turned and walked toward the door, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet.
âIâll return,â he said without looking back. âThereâs still much I need to learn from you.â
And as he disappeared into the sunlight, leaving you alone in the quiet of your clinic, you couldnât help but feel that your world had shiftedâjust a little, but enough to make you wonder what might come next.
ROME, 200 A.D. â AFTERNOON
The light of the afternoon sun streamed through the tall, arched windows of Senator Gracchusâs residence, casting golden patterns across the polished marble floors. You moved with practiced ease through the grand room, gathering fresh bandages and jars of ointment from your bag while keeping an ear to the Senatorâs usual musings. Today, however, your mind was elsewhere.
âDid you send him to me?â you asked, your tone casual but your curiosity evident. You didnât look up as you sorted through your supplies, your hands deftly organizing the salves and herbs.
âSend who?â Senator Gracchus replied, reclining on his plush lectus, the deep crimson cushions making him look more regal than his age might suggest. His tone was light, but there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He was far too clever to play coy without reason.
âThe General. General Acacius.â You paused, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before returning to your work.
The Senatorâs lips curled into a knowing smile as he raised his chalice of wine. âAh, Marcus. I may have mentioned your name in passing conversation.â
You froze for a moment, your brow furrowing. âIn passing conversation?âÂ
âOf course.â He swirled the wine lazily in his cup. âI simply spoke of a brilliant healer who mends not just bodies but spirits. It seems the good general decided to see for himself if the rumors were true.â
You let out a soft huff, shaking your head as you resumed unpacking your things. âWell, he approached me today.â
âAnd how was he?â Gracchus asked, leaning forward slightly, his expression both intrigued and amused.
âHe seemedâŠâ You hesitated, your hands stilling as you searched for the right words. Memories of the encounter flickered in your mindâhis commanding presence, the intensity in his eyes, the way his words seemed to linger long after heâd spoken them. âAlright, I suppose,â you said finally, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance.Â
Gracchus chuckled softly, setting his chalice down on a nearby table. âAlright, you suppose? My dear, youâre a terrible liar.â
You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âIt means,â the Senator began, his tone teasing, âthat youâve just met one of the most formidable men in Rome, and yet here you are pretending he didnât make an impression.â
Your cheeks warmed slightly, though you refused to let it show. âImpression or not, I donât see how itâs relevant. Iâm here to heal people, not⊠whatever it is youâre insinuating.â
âOh, Iâm not insinuating anything,â Gracchus said with a sly grin. âBut let me give you a piece of advice, my dear. Men like Marcus Acacius donât walk into someoneâs life without a reason.â
âPerhaps he was just curious,â you said, turning away to mask the flutter of nerves that crept up your spine. âOr bored.â
âCuriosity doesnât often bring him to clinics,â the Senator mused, leaning back once more. âBoredom even less so. Whatever the reason, Iâd wager it has little to do with medicine.â
You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. âIf this is your way of playing matchmaker, Senator, Iâd prefer you didnât.â
âAnd here I thought youâd appreciate a distraction,â Gracchus said, raising his chalice once more. âBut very well. Consider the matter dropped.â
For now, you thought, knowing full well that Gracchus wasnât one to let things go so easily. As you busied yourself with preparing his treatment, you couldnât help but replay the moment youâd locked eyes with Marcus Acacius, his gaze heavy with something you couldnât quite name.Â
Alright, you supposed. But deep down, you knew it was far more than that.
A FEW WEEKS LATERâŠ
OSTIA, PORT OF ROME â DAYÂ Â
The sun blazed high over the port, casting a golden glow over the triumphant scene unfolding below. The air was alive with the sound of celebrationâthe roar of the crowd, the rhythmic chanting of his name. Â
âAcacius! Acacius! Acacius!â Â
You stood at a distance, hidden in the shadows of a towering marble column, your gaze fixed on the man at the center of the spectacle. Marcus Acacius, the war hero of Rome, returned victorious. His white chariot, pulled by majestic horses, moved with deliberate grace through the throng of citizens who waved laurel branches and tossed flowers into the air. Â
The general himself was a vision of Roman splendor, adorned in white and gold, a flowing cape billowing behind him like the wings of an avenging angel. He waved politely to the people, his expression calm and composed, though you suspected a storm brewed beneath that veneer. Â
As the chariot came to a halt at the steps of the grand Temple of Mars Ultor, young girls dressed in flowing white tunics and crowned with fresh flowers scattered rose petals in his path. He ascended the steps with measured strides, the marble beneath his feet gleaming in the sunlight. Â
You stood among the other servants, the weight of a velvet pillow in your hands anchoring you to the moment. Atop the pillow rested a crown of golden laurels, shimmering with the promise of empty glory. Senator Gracchus had arranged for you to present it, an honor you neither wanted nor could refuse. Your palms were damp with nerves, but it wasnât fear of the crowd or ceremony that unsettled you. It was the cruel spectacle of it allâthe emperors reveling in their power while Rome decayed beneath their feet. Â
Marcus reached the top of the steps, standing before the twin emperors. Geta, younger and deceptively charming, gestured to the approaching general. Caracalla, brooding and sharp-featured, watched with an intensity that made the scene feel like a predator sizing up prey. Â
Marcus placed a fist over his heart in the Roman salutatio, nodding first to one and then the other. âEmperor Geta,â he began, his voice steady. He turned his gaze to the other. âEmperor Caracalla.â Â
âGeneral Acacius,â Geta replied with a wide, practiced smile. Â
Marcus straightened, his tone humble yet firm. âI have taken Numidia in your names. Your dominion may yet eclipse that of every emperor who came before you.â Â
Caracalla smirked, gesturing lazily to you with a flick of his hand. âCrown him with laurels, brother.â Â
Your heart leapt as all eyes turned to you. You stepped forward, forcing yourself to keep your movements measured. Bowing your head slightly, you presented the pillow to Geta. He took the crown, sparing you no more than a dismissive glance, and you retreated quickly, blending back into the shadows as the ceremony continued. Â
Geta placed the golden laurels atop Marcusâs salt-and-pepper curls, his smile widening as the crowd erupted in cheers. The senators clapped politely, their faces masks of approval, though you wondered how many of them truly celebrated the general's return. Â
The procession moved inside the temple, where the grandeur of marble columns and gilded statues loomed over the gathering. You lingered near the edges of the hall, half-hidden among other attendants. Your eyes were drawn to Marcus, who stood surrounded by Romeâs elite yet seemed entirely apart from them. Â
Geta approached Marcus with two chalices of wine, his gait almost casual. âIn honor of your conquest, there will be games in the Colosseum,â he said, handing one to the general. Â
Marcus accepted it with a polite nod, though his expression remained neutral. âI require no games in my honor. Serving the senate and the people of Rome is honor enough for me.â Â
He raised the chalice to toast, but Geta pulled his cup back with a sharp laugh. âYou are too modest, Acacius. It does not suit a general as accomplished as yourself.â He clinked their glasses together before Marcus could respond, his tone dripping with mockery. Â
âThe glory is yours, not mine,â Marcus replied, his words measured. âI only ask for respite from war. To spend time withâŠâ His voice trailed off as his gaze flickered brieflyâso brieflyâtoward you. Â
Your breath hitched, the moment so fleeting that you questioned whether it had happened at all. Â
Caracalla, lounging nearby, smirked. âTime for what, general? Gardens and poetry? Or something sweeter?â Â
Geta ignored his brother, moving to a table where a long ceremonial sword rested. He lifted it, examining the blade with a predatory gleam in his eyes. âThere are victories yet to come, Acacius.â Â
He turned back toward the general, raising the sword as if to knight him. Lightly, he tapped Marcusâs shoulders, then paused, the blade hovering near his neck. Â
âPersia. India. Both must be conquered.â Â
With a slow, deliberate motion, Geta pressed the edge of the blade against Marcusâs neck, the sharp metal breaking skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood. Â
Marcus didnât flinch, though his expression darkened. His voice was low, steady, and cold. âRome has so many subjects. She must feed them.â Â
He swatted the blade away from his neck, a flicker of defiance passing between him and the emperor. Â
Caracallaâs laugh rang out, sharp and cruel. âThey can eat war!â Â
Geta let the sword clatter to the floor, the sound echoing across the hall. âYour triumphs will be celebrated, General Acacius,â he said, his tone pointed. âAs a tribute to the greatness of the Roman people.â Â
He extended his hand, adorned with gaudy rings, and Marcus had no choice but to bow and kiss it. You saw the flicker of disdain in his eyes even as his lips brushed the emperorâs hand. Â
From your shadowed corner, your heart ached for him. For the man who bore the weight of Romeâs sins with a quiet dignity that deserved so much more than the cruelty of its rulers. Â
VILLA DI DOMITIA LUCILLA â NIGHTÂ Â
The villa perched on the outskirts of Rome exuded a quiet elegance, its columns and arches glowing under the pale light of the moon. The night was thick with fog, curling like tendrils of smoke through the cypress trees that lined the estate. A gentle breeze carried the scent of rosemary and lavender from the gardens, mingling with the faint hum of nocturnal life. Â
Inside, the villa was equally serene. Lucilla, ever gracious, had agreed to host you at the request of Senator Gracchus. The senator had claimed it was âmore appropriateâ for you to stay under her care, given the delicate balance of Roman customs and the constant scrutiny of the twin emperors. In truth, you suspected it was also for your safety. Lucillaâs influence, though quietly wielded, was a shield few dared to challenge. Â
The villa was warm and inviting, a haven amidst the chaos of Rome. Yet, even as you settled into your temporary quarters, a restlessness stirred within you. You missed the simplicity of your small home, the steady rhythm of your work. Here, despite Lucillaâs kindness, you felt like a guest in gilded captivity. Â
Meanwhile, Marcus Acacius found himself battling his own restlessness. When he learned you were staying with Lucilla, the knowledge sparked an idea he could hardly ignore. Though he was no stranger to the villaâit was a place he visited often as a long-time confidant of Lucillaâtonight, his reasons for coming were far from casual. Â
He rode through the foggy night, his steed's hooves echoing against the stone-paved road. The air was cold, biting against his cheeks, but he barely noticed. Two of his guards flanked him, silent and watchful as shadows. Â
When he reached the gates of the villa, a sentry stepped forward, his spear raised in a show of duty. âHalt! Who goes there?â Â
The torchlight illuminated Marcusâs face, and recognition dawned on the guard. His stance shifted immediately. Placing a fist over his heart, he bowed. âGeneral.â Â
âOpen the gates,â Marcus commanded, his voice steady but not unkind. Â
The heavy iron gates creaked open, and Marcus dismounted his steed with practiced ease. A stable boy rushed forward to take the reins, bowing quickly before leading the horse away. Marcus adjusted his cloak, brushing off the dampness of the night, and stepped into the villaâs grounds. Â
Inside, Lucilla greeted him in the atrium, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders and her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. âMarcus,â she said warmly, though there was a knowing lilt to her tone. âI wasnât expecting you tonight.â Â
âI hope Iâm not intruding,â Marcus replied, his lips curving into a polite smile. âI was nearby and thought it prudent to pay a visit.â Â
âNearby?â Lucilla arched an elegant brow. âUnless the general has taken to wandering the countryside aimlessly at night, I suspect thereâs more to this visit than proximity.â Â
Marcus didnât answer immediately, his eyes scanning the villaâs hall. It was quieter than usual, the stillness broken only by the faint crackle of torches and the murmur of distant voices. Â
Lucilla stepped closer, her expression softening. âSheâs in the east wing,â she said, her voice dropping slightly. Â
Marcus turned to her, his gaze sharp. âWho?â Â
Lucilla smirked, crossing her arms. âYou didnât ride through the night for me, Marcus. Donât insult my intelligence.â Â
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. âYou always see through me, Lucilla.â Â
âItâs a gift,â she quipped, then gestured toward the hallway. âGo. But donât wake the entire villa with your heavy boots.â Â
Marcus inclined his head in thanks before making his way toward the east wing. The soft glow of oil lamps guided his path, casting flickering shadows on the walls. As he approached your quarters, his steps slowed. Â
You were seated by the window, a soft blanket draped over your shoulders, gazing out at the misty garden. The stillness of the night felt fragile, like it might shatter at the slightest sound. The dim light of the oil lamp beside you softened your features, though weariness lingered in your eyes. Â
A soft clearing of a throat broke the silence, low but deliberate. Â
You turned quickly, your heart skipping at the unexpected intrusion. âGeneral Acacius?â Â
He leaned against the doorway, his armor traded for a plain, white tunic and dark cloak that suited the quiet of the night. His lips curled into a faint smirk. âMy lady.â Â
âI am no lady, General,â you corrected, your brow arching slightly. Â
âMarcus,â he said, stepping into the room with a deliberate grace. âAnd I didnât mean to disturb you.â Â
âYou didnât,â you replied, though the confusion in your voice was evident. âWhat brings you here at this hour?â Â
For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words. Then, with a slight shrug, he said, âI wanted to ensure you were settling in comfortably. Lucillaâs hospitality can be... unique.â Â
A faint smile tugged at your lips. âItâs generous, though I canât help but feel a bit out of place.â Â
Marcus nodded, his expression thoughtful. âThis villa has always felt like a sanctuary. But I know it can be difficult to find peace in unfamiliar surroundings.â Â
For a while, silence stretched between you. The weight of the world outside the villaâRomeâs cruelty, the constant tensionâseemed to press lightly against the walls, but here, in this moment, the quiet was soothing. Â
âDid you really ride all this way just to check on me?â you asked, a teasing note in your voice that broke through the stillness. Â
His lips twitched, the beginnings of a smile warming his face. âWould you believe me if I said yes?â Â
You tilted your head, studying him carefully, your gaze soft but sharp. âI might.â Â
He stepped closer, the flickering light of the lamp catching the faintest glimmer in his dark eyes. His expression, though tempered by years of military discipline, held a warmth that made your heart skip. Â
âGood,â he murmured, his voice low and steady. Â
The room seemed smaller suddenly, the air charged with something unspoken. You cleared your throat, shifting slightly, your hands clutching at the fabric of your skirts as if to anchor yourself. Â
âI thank the gods that brought you back home safe,â you said, your voice quieter now, tinged with something deeper. Â
Marcusâs gaze didnât falter. âThank the army,â he replied humbly. âThey protected me.â Â
You nodded, acknowledging his words. âYou must be hungry, then?â Â
He raised a brow, clearly amused by the shift in the conversation, but he didnât resist. âIt has been a long ride.â Â
Turning, you glanced toward the servant standing silently near the doorway. You offered her an apologetic smile, and she nodded in understanding before quietly leaving the room to fetch food and drink. Â
As the door closed behind her, you turned back to Marcus. âItâs the least I can offer after you came all this way.â Â
His lips twitched again, his faint smile now fully formed. âYouâve already offered more than you know.â Â
You blinked, tilting your head in quiet curiosity. âWhat do you mean?â Â
âYour kindness,â he said simply, stepping closer still. âItâs rare in Rome. Even rarer in my world.â Â
Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze, and you quickly turned your attention back to the window, hoping the dim light would hide your reaction. âI only do what anyone should.â Â
âPerhaps,â he said softly, âbut not everyone does.â Â
The sincerity in his voice sent a flutter through your chest. When you finally looked back at him, he was closer now, his presence commanding but not overwhelming. Â
âYouâre too generous with your praise, Marcus,â you said, though the words felt light, almost teasing. Â
âAnd youâre far too modest,â he countered, the smirk returning to his lips. Â
The sound of footsteps approaching signaled the servantâs return, breaking the charged silence between you. She entered with a tray of fruit, bread, and wine, placing it on the small table by the window before bowing and retreating once more. Â
You gestured toward the table, a soft smile gracing your lips. âPlease, sit. Youâve had a long day.â Â
Marcus inclined his head, his expression grateful as he took the seat opposite you. The light from the lamp flickered between you, casting long shadows on the walls. Â
As you poured wine into two cups, the flickering lamplight caught the soft curve of your profile, drawing his gaze. Marcus watched you, his expression thoughtful, warm, and just a little too intense. Â
âYou should know,â he began, his voice low and deliberate, âthis isnât just about ensuring youâre comfortable.â Â
Your hands hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing their task, but the air in the room seemed to thicken. You glanced up at him, your brow arching as you placed one of the cups in front of him. âHave you finally come to your senses and decided to arrest me? For treating those the Senate deems unworthy of saving?â Â
The corner of his mouth twitched, a wry, fleeting almost-smile. âNo.â Â
You leaned back slightly, folding your arms across your chest, your head tilting in mock suspicion. âThen perhaps youâve come to lecture me? To remind me how dangerous it is to meddle in things beyond my station?â Â
His gaze softened, the warmth in it almost unsettling. âDo you think so little of me?â Â
The teasing edge in your posture faltered for just a moment before you quickly recovered, glancing down into your own cup. âYouâre a General, Marcus. Youâre loyal to Rome. To the Senate. My workâŠâ You shrugged, trying to sound casual despite the weight in your voice. âIt doesnât exactly align with the ideals of your empire.â Â
Marcus reached for his cup, his hand brushing briefly, almost imperceptibly, against the edge of yours. âYouâre right,â he said finally, his tone unreadable. Â
Your gaze snapped to his, surprised. âI am?â Â
âYou donât align with the empire,â he continued, taking a slow sip of the wine. âYou stand above it. You see its flaws and still choose to fight for whatâs right, even when itâs dangerous. Even when it puts you at risk.â Â
The words struck something deep within you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. You hadnât expected thatâhis understanding, his admiration. Â
âAnd you donât find that... infuriating?â you asked, trying to mask the tremor in your voice with a wry smile. Â
âInfuriating?â he echoed, setting the cup down. âNo.â His gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. âItâs extraordinary.â Â
A sudden heat rushed to your cheeks, and you turned your attention to the fire crackling softly in the hearth. âYouâre far too kind, General.â Â
âMarcus,â he corrected gently, leaning forward. Â
âMarcus,â you repeated, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue, though not unpleasant. Â
He smiled faintly, as if satisfied. âAnd Iâm not being kindâIâm being honest. Too few in this city have the courage to act as you do. Even fewer have the heart.â Â
You looked back at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity and finding none. The man before you wasnât the untouchable war hero paraded through Romeâs streets. He was something quieter, something deeper. Â
âAnd what about you?â you asked softly. âArenât you tired of all this? The battles, the politics, the endless expectations?â Â
His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his features. âMore than you could ever know.â Â
The quiet confession hung between you, delicate and heavy all at once. Â
âThen why not walk away?â you pressed, your voice barely above a whisper. Â
He gave a low, humorless laugh, running a hand through his curly hair. âAnd go where? Rome would never let me go, even if I wanted to. AndâŠâ He hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to you before settling on the fire. âThere are reasons to stay.â Â
Your breath caught at the implication, but you forced yourself to keep your tone light. âDuty, I suppose?â Â
His eyes met yours again, darker now, more intense. âSomething like that.â Â
The weight of his words pressed against your chest, and you found yourself wondering if he could hear the sudden quickening of your heart. Â
âIâm not sure I understand you, Marcus,â you said quietly, the teasing edge gone from your voice. Â
âGood,â he replied, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. âIâd hate to be predictable.â Â
You couldnât help but smile at that, shaking your head as you finally took a sip of your wine. âYouâre certainly not that.â Â
The room fell into a companionable silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of crickets filling the space. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only slightly. Â
âThank you,â you said after a while, your voice soft but sincere. Â
He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. âFor what?â Â
âFor coming,â you replied, meeting his gaze. âFor⊠for seeing me. Not just tonight, butââ You hesitated, searching for the right words. âFor seeing me as more than what Rome would make me.â Â
His expression softened, and for a moment, the guardedness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something unspoken but undeniable. âItâs impossible not to.â Â
The words wrapped around your heart, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe them. Â
âAt times, I wish you would abandon all of this,â you said softly, your voice trembling with honesty. âThe wars. The blood. The service to men who deserve none of it.â Â
Marcusâs jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching before he answered. âIâve made my choice,â he said, his tone resolute, but there was a flicker of weariness in his eyes. âI can live with it. But my patience with them is at an end.â Â
You glanced toward the far corner of the room, where Leta, the ever-watchful servant, lingered. Offering her a kind smile, you said, âLeta, you may go to your quarters now. Weâll need nothing more this evening.â Â
Leta hesitated, her gaze flickering between the two of you, but at your gentle nod, she smiled and curtsied, before slipping out, leaving the room steeped in a quiet intimacy. Â
Marcus exhaled deeply, as if the act of speaking had been weighing on him. He set his cup down on the nearby table across from you, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as though bearing the weight of Rome itself. âTo hear wives and mothers mourning their dead on that beach of NumidiaâŠâ His voice was low, rough with emotion. He scoffed bitterly and ran a hand through his hair. âNo more. I will not waste another generation of young men for their vanity. If I fight another campaignâŠâ His gaze hardened, a fire igniting in his eyes. âIt must be to depose them.â
Your breath hitched at the words. âYouâre telling me this⊠why?â you asked carefully. âWeâve met only briefly. Why would you trust me with something so dangerous?â Â
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his intense gaze locking onto yours. âAm I wrong to assume that Senator Gracchus and Lucilla have been whispering thoughts not unlike my own? That Rome deserves better than two tyrants playing at being gods?â Â
You hesitated, your lips quirking slightly to the side as you considered your answer. Finally, you gave him a small nod. âYouâre not wrong. The whispers grow louder with each passing day.â Â
For a moment, the room was silent save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth. You licked your lips nervously and took a steadying breath. Meeting his eyes, you asked, âWhen will your troops arrive?â Â
âTheyâll land in Ostia in ten days,â he replied, his voice low and firm. Â
You nodded, your mind already calculating the implications. âHow many will be loyal to you? To you alone?â Â
âAll of them,â he said without hesitation. âMany of them owe their lives to you, as Iâve heard it. Your words of wisdom, your care in the campsâthey remember. Soldiers donât forget kindness, especially in a world so devoid of it.â Â
Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you pressed on. âThe emperors have lost the peopleâs support,â you said, your voice heavy with conviction. âThe citizens are weary of their madness, their tyranny. What is the dream of Rome if our people are not free?â Â
Marcus let out a long sigh, the weight of the truth settling over him. âA dream deferred,â he murmured. âBut not lost. Not yet.â Â
The silence that followed was charged, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing upon both of you. You searched his face, seeing the resolute determination of a soldier but also the quiet yearning of a man who had seen too much, endured too much. Â
âAnd what of you?â he asked, his voice softer now. âIf the tide turns, if the gods will it⊠what would your dream of Rome be?â Â
You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. âA Rome where compassion isnât a weakness. Where the people, not the emperors, hold the power. A Rome where no child grows up in fear of a tyrantâs whim.â Â
His gaze softened, and for a moment, the hardened lines of his face eased. âThatâs a dream worth fighting for,â he said quietly. Â
You gave him a small, tentative smile. âAnd worth surviving for.â Â
The words lingered in the air between you, a shared understanding forming in the flickering light. Neither of you dared to say it outright, but the unspoken promise was clear: whatever lay ahead, you would not face it alone. Â
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Make Me Proud | (Sub!Rafe)
Pairing: sub!Rafe x domme!Reader
Synopsys: Rafe and Reader finally get to release their pent up tension from the Halloween party. He wants to earn his prize so they explore a new way of pleasure together.
Warnings: SMUT (18+), anal play (m receiving), oral (f receiving), fluff
Word Count: 6.4k
A/N: Hii!!! I know it took me a while but it's finally finished! I hope you enjoy this smutty goodnes and that it was worth the wait! Let me know what you think! I'm excited for them exploring more ways to give/receive pleasure!
Series Masterlist
My work is my own; it's not to be copied, transferred or translated. Reblogs, comments, feedback are always welcome and appreciatedâ€ïž
Happy readingđ„°
Make Me Proud
The harsh rays of sun pricked at his eyelids forcing him to awaken against his will, letting out a pained groan. Blinking his eyes open he slowly begun to gather his bearings and the first thing he noticed was the emptiness of the bed next to him.
There was a low pang in his chest at her absence. The second thing he noticed was the pounding in his head, no doubt attributed to the hangover bound to ruin his day. He made such a huge mistake downing all those shots last night. As the memories started flooding back he became aware of just how much of a fool he'd made of himself. In front of her, to make shit ten times worse. Just as he was beginning to wonder if his behavior caused her to leave, the door slowly opened and he watched her tiptoe inside, unaware of his inner turmoil.
Once her eyes landed on his sprawled out figure she realized he was finally awake. Had she been up for several hours, bored out of her mind but not wanting to wake him? Maybe. Did she sneak into the kitchen to make them both a cup of coffee when she finally got sick of laying motionless next to him? Perhaps.
"Morning, sunshine." She smirked at his response, an unamused grunt. He was definitely feeling the aftermath of those drinks. She felt kinda bad for him but it was his own fault he was in this state.
"What time is it?" His morning voice always got her tummy fluttering and today was no different. The ways in which this man drove her insane were unfathomable to her.
"Nine. I thought you'd sleep longer. The house is still dead." She made her way back to bed, giving him a generous view of her bare thighs as she shuffled in next to him. He barely noticed the coffee cup right in front of his face, too distracted by how soft and sexy her legs looked and how she still smelled so damn good even after a long night.
"Rafe..." her voice sounded half amused half exasperated, causing him to finally snap his attention back to her face and see the amused expression she bore. He blushed at being caught so blatantly ogling her, but he didn't try to play it off. There was no need to anyway, she knew just how attracted he was to her.
He took the cup with a small thank you, forcing himself into a somewhat upright position and downing half of it in one go. She scoffed out a laugh and rolled over to the bedside table to grab him a bottle of water she put there last night. Once she turned back she caught him staring at her ass, which had peeked out from under his shirt she was wearing. Raising her eyebrow at catching him, again, in under 2 minutes, he paid her back with a sheepish smile.
Those damn dimples always got to her. She was a sucker like that. He didn't need to know how quickly she got weak for him though, so she bit back her smile and decided to keep on a face of neutrality, knowing it drove him crazy when he couldn't tell what mood she was in.
"Are you hungry?" She casually posed the question while scrolling on her phone and he wished she'd just look at him instead. Pathetic. But hey, he was accepting it. She drove him insane every single day and he liked it.
"A little... The burger helped, though. Thanks." He gave her a cute smile almost causing her to break her act, but she perservered. He was just too fun to mess with, she couldn't help herself.
"You're welcome." She went back to her phone and he pouted. The throbbing in his head was making him more impatient than usual so he snapped and forced her into a bear hug, almost knocking the wind out of her.
"Rafe!" He laughed into her skin, enjoying the sound of her carefree giggle more than he thought possible.
"Get off!" Her words had no real bite to them, so he just pulled away slightly, just to look at her face.
"Thank you for taking care of me. And I'm sorry for getting drunk." He kissed her sweetly, almost making her lose her head completely. These moments of gentle affection always had both of their heads spiraling.
"You're lucky you're cute.." she sighed out a labourious breath and he laughed at the dramatics.
"I'm very lucky." He was looking at her with the most lovesick expression, she couldn't handle it. She had to break the moment before it broke her.
"Indeed. And quite desperate, based on all the begging you were doing last night." She was kinda mean for bringing that up. He was confused for all of 5 seconds before he realized what begging she was referring to. Once he did, his skin turned bright pink and the temperature of his body rose.
He had begged her to let him go down on her like a little bitch. Dear God, the embarrassment was about to eat him up, the blush not letting up for a moment.
She cracked a smile then, breaking the stoic act and he felt an immediate relief at that. He remembered what she'd told him - that he didn't need to be embarrassed about his desires. So he swallowed down his pride and awkwardness and decided to end this little game of hers. Instead of becoming sheepish he got serious.
"You still haven't told me how I can earn it." His words shook her. She was enjoying teasing him and then he flipped the switch. She could see the smirk begging to be let out at the corner of his lips, his eyes hungry and not hiding his arousal at all. She had a feeling that if she took the covers off he'd be packing a hard-on again. He was playing with fire.
"You really want to earn it?" Her eyes shifted and her domme voice returned. His skin was buzzing with excitement, hoping to finally get something out of her.
"Yes, ma'am." He smiled and she could feel her composure slipping away.
"Just wanna make you feel good." His voice dropped an octave and she could feel the dampness in her panties, the temperature in the room heating up.
"I feel good when I make you feel good, baby." Teasing, teasing, teasing. He knew she was playing him again. He swallowed, mouth feeling dry at the way she was looking at him.
"I want to taste you so bad." There it was. The honest response. She didn't want him pretending he was only interested in it for her benefit and now he was finally being truthful.
"Yeah?" She got on top of him, lips inches apart. His breath becoming her own as she stared deep into his eyes, testing his limits.
"Yes....please..." she kissed him then. A kiss so heated it could probably warm up an entire room. Little whines left his throat as she bit down on his lip, feeling his erection pressing into her ass. He was so gone.
"Please." It was a whisper, she barely heard it but she had. And boy did it have her losing her damn mind. The desperation he exhibited for her drove her wild. She had to pull away in order for both of them to catch their breaths again. God, was he testing her.
"I love the way you beg, baby." She whispered into his ear, leaving soft, wet kisses on his neck, causing him to groan... it was such a delicious torture.
"Fuck..." his whines got louder when she bit into that spot where his neck and shoulder meet, eyes rolling back. She was everything.
She had a whole scene in her mind then, clear as day. Trying to think of all the logistics was proving difficult when she was so damn turned on, causing her to pull away. He whined at the loss of contact, nearly shedding a tear. She'd built him up so high he didn't think he could survive her rejection now.
She took the water bottle and took a huge gulp, his lust filled eyes tracing her features, trying to figure out how to stop her from pulling away from him further. He thought he'd definitely cry if she did, too turned on to function. She tried getting up off of him, causing him to whine and wrap his hands around her, refusing to let her go. She nearly laughed seeing the desperation on his face, the sheer need to keep her there.
"Baby. Let go." He reluctantly loosened his grip, looking at her with big, sad eyes nearly breaking her heart.
"It's okay, sweet boy." She kissed his cheek and then shocked him by squirting water on his face. He gasped, looking at her in bewilderment. She couldn't help but laugh then.
"What..?" The confusion on his face made her laugh harder. She needed to cool them both down and this was the first thing she could think of. She can't have this conversation if she isn't thinking clearly.
"I'm sorry, I just needed you to snap out of it. Sorry, baby." She wiped the remaining water off his face. She kissed him again and pushed herself further away from him, so she can think.
"What the hell?" He was mumbling, still half in shock making her feel a bit guilty.
"Look if you're serious then we need to talk. I can't think when we're..." she drifted off then, causing him to realize what happened. She was having trouble controlling herself just as he was, so she did a silly thing to help herself think. He felt endeared, realizing that the moment had affected her just as strongly as it did him.
"Okay. Talk." He was nodding, sitting up, facing her, trying to ignore the painful boner she left him with.
"You want to be a good boy?" How was he supposed to stay calm when she says shit like that to him? Damn.
"Yes." He struggled to stay still, not to draw nearer, to feel her skin against him again. It was so hard.
"Remember when you said you were open to anal play?" Her words shook him to his core. She could see the shock in his eyes before he had a chance to mask it.
"Ye-yeah. I remember..." he wasn't sure where this was going anymore.
"Are you still? Or did you just say that cause you thought it's what I wanted to hear?" He was shaking his head before she even finished the question.
"No. I- I meant it. I want to try." She smiled at him then, a soft look on her face the polar opposite of how she looked just minutes ago.
"Yeah?" He nodded, urging her to believe him. He had no idea what she was planning but he wanted nothing more than to do whatever she wanted. Even if he was nervous.
"I want to be your good boy." His words nearly had her eyes roll back but she managed to control herself. He was so fucking hot when he gave himself to her completely.
"Okay. Well, we need to prepare, we can't do it now-"
"Why not?" The whine was louder and brattier than he intended causing her to cock a brow at him.
"Well for one I don't have lube here, and-"
"I do!" This took her by surprise. But he interrupted her twice now and that was not acceptable.
"Okay, that's good. But if you interrupt me one more time we're not having any sex at all in the forseeable future." Her voice was authoritative, making him feel embarrassed at how childish he was acting.
"I'm sorry." He looked it too, so she accepted it with a nod.
"Okay. Well, we still can't do it here. I'd like us to shower first and have privacy." She was listing things, looking so cute while she rationalized their sex life. It would have been comical if it weren't driving him insane.
He knew she didn't want to shower in his house, having offered her the option before and being met with a horrified look and a respectful decline. She claimed she liked his friends but she didn't trust their hygiene in the slightest, causing him to laugh and agree with her. He loved her shower though. He got to use her pretty smelling shampoo and he always felt extra clean and sated after showering at her apartment.
"Then lets go to your place." It was a no brainer to him. She thought of all the possible issues but given that her plans for his first time trying anal play were small, she figured it would be fine without all the usual prep. They'd build up to that eventually.
"Okay." He lit up like a christmas tree.
"Really?" She chuckled at his newfound enthusiasm.
"Yes, really. But if you change your mind at any point you need to tell me, okay?" He was nodding along quickly but she didn't forget the initial apprehension on his face and she'd be damned if she let him do something he isn't into to try and please her. Not on her watch.
They got dressed and packed up their stuff pretty quickly, the excitement in the air palpable. Some people finally started to wake up just as they were leaving the house, catching a few "screw you's" for running off before the clean up from last night began. They didn't care, too wrapped up in each other and the anticipation of what's to come to be bothered.
----------------------------
They picked up some sandwiches on the way back to her apartment, at her insistence. He was way too excited for what she had planned to think about food, but his stomach thanked her all the same when his hunger was sated.
They didn't waste any time taking their clothes off and getting in the shower. It was such a wonderful moment between them, soft and loving, he way they washed each other from all the sweat and grime from the night before. She handled him more delicately than anyone ever had in his life, and he always felt so damn safe and taken care of when she touched him like that. As the shower drew to an end, they shared some lingering, warm kisses, igniting the fire from earlier all over again in a slow burning flame.
Anticipation was killing him, driving him wild with every second that passed of them drying off and getting ready in her room. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous, but it was nothing compared to how excited he felt. The trust he had in her was so complete, he knew he was always safe with her to explore these kinks without danger or judgement. He knew she'd never force him to do anything he wasn't willing to do, and that opened up the door for him to get braver and more comfortable with trying new things.
They were on her bed, still naked from the shower, not feeling any need to prolong the inevitable. She kissed him slow and deep, tongues meeting in a teasing dance, driving them both wild. The little sounds he let out were going straight to her core. She was so excited about this, she had a feeling he'd love the sensation of having his ass played with and it made her proud that he was trusting her in this sensitive moment.
"Tell me the colors again." She ordered, kissing his neck, winding him up further. She always insisted he reminds himself of the colors, so there was no chance of a miscommunication in the heat of the moment.
"Green, yellow, red. I know the drill." He quickly listed the colors, exasperated and so turned on he could barely breathe.
"Don't get sassy." She warned, still kissing his skin, over his collar bones and shoulders. She loved to kiss the freckles on his body, finding them so damn beautiful.
He was struggling to breathe, forcing deep breaths into his lungs, while she worked him over, touching and kissing everywhere. His skin was flushed, muscles taut with restraint. It felt so good, her touch, he wondered how he didn't melt right into a puddle every time her skin was on his.
She kept exploring him with her fingerips and lips, nibbling on a nipple, lightly scratching down his abs, amping him up, every nerve ending so sensitive. His cock was hard as a rock and she couldn't help but smirk at his twitching, trying so hard to be good and not do anything she didn't tell him to.
She completely ignored his erection, instead focusing on massaging his balls causing moans to leave his lips. She loved the sounds he made, could get high on them.
"That feel good, huh?" She teased, kissing his thighs while she slowly moved one hand lower, barely touching his sensitive hole. He gasped as soon as her fingers brushed him there, finally grasping just how close she was to opening him up in a whole new way.
She laid kisses on his skin as her fingers slowly massaged around his hole, causing him to groan at the teasing tempo. He needed more, she was driving him nuts.
She could tell he was getting antsy, face flushed and little, desperate whines leaving his swollen lips. She reached for the bottle of lube she'd prepared, cracking it open and squeezing a generous amount on her fingers. Rubbing her fingers to warm them up, she looked at him, holding his breath in preparation.
"What's your color, baby?" She spread his legs wide open for better access, leaving him completely exposed in front of her.
"Green." The answer was immediate, a deep longing in his voice. He kept his eyes on her, eager to see every movement she made.
"I'm gonna go slow, okay? Nothing crazy. I promise." He was nodding, impatient yet grateful for the reassurance.
"Okay. Just please do something." She smiled at his little whine and decided to put him out of his mysery.
Her fingers finally made contact with the sensitive skin around his hole, massaging slowly, warming him up, making sure to put a decent amount of lube on his entrance. The massage felt so good he couldn't imagine how it could get better.
She kissed his tummy as she slowly eased the tip of her finger into his tight hole, causing a desperate gasp to leave him. She kept a watchful eye on his face, paying attention to every expression, every breath, twitch and sound that left him. She kissed his skin as she kept massaging and lightly slipping her finger into him deeper, going slowly not to overwhelm him. She was so damn turned on at how good he was being, proud of how brave he was to let her have him like this and eager to make him see stars.
Once she'd slowly eased a finger about half way, she checked in.
"How does it feel, baby?" She rubbed his thighs in a soothing motion which calmed his mind.
"Weird. But kinda good?" It was his first time ever having anything in his ass and the sensation was strange but at the same time he wanted more. He needed to know how good it could feel, because he knew she wouldn't do this if it wasn't going to make him feel great.
"You're doing so good for me, sweet boy." He whined at the praise, blushing profusely at the intimate situation.
"Still green?" He nodded quickly making her chuckle and continue her ministrations.
"Fuck..." he moaned as her finger went deeper, touching that sensitive spot inside him, causing his mind to go completely blank as she kept going. She started moving in and out slowly, grazing that magic spot with each thrust. The way he was responding was so fucking beautiful. He was letting out sounds she hadn't heard before, the brand new pleasure making him delirious.
"You're so tight around my finger, baby." The dirty talk had him whining in desperation, wanting more, wanting her to take him however she liked. This was so different to anything he'd experienced before and he really fucking liked it.
"Taking me so good." She kept talking him thought it as she gained speed, lightly curling her finger each time she grazed that spot, having him curling his toes in pleasure, gasps and moans leaving him without his knowledge. He was so wrapped up in how nice it felt he couldn't think of anything else but her finger, her touch, her voice overwhelming his senses.
"More." He whined out the most deperate little moan she'd ever heard in her life, her panties getting soaked seeing him like this.
"More?" She questioned, picking up the pace as his moans got louder, his head nodding, words escaping him.
She wasn't expecting to do more than one finger for the first time but the way he was reacting, taking it so well, so eager, begging for more? Yeah, she was losing her fucking mind. It was the hottest thing she'd ever witnessed.
"Think you can take another finger, baby boy?" His response an immediate, moaned out "yes, please". She could see his eyes getting teary and she didn't waste another moment before squirting more lube on him and easing another finger into his tight hole.
He was a mess of moans, grunts, whines, pleas and tears as she stretched him out, giving him a new level of pleasure as both fingers pumped into him. It was heaven. He couldn't believe he'd waited this long to do this. Though he couldn't imagine ever doing this with anyone else. She was it for him, he knew it. She blew his mind every fucking time they had sex, she introduced him to highs he never even imagined.
Fuck, it felt so good to have her on top of him, fucking him with her fingers, claiming him as hers. He was getting closer and closer, cock twitching on his stomach, leaking precum, red and throbbing without even being touched. It was insane.
"You look so beatiful, baby. Taking me so well. I'm so proud of you." His tears flowed freely at her words, overwhelmed at the pleasure and praise she was giving him. It was fucking perfect.
"I'm cl- so close." She could barely make out his words from the choked moan they escaped in.
"Yeah? You wanna cum, baby?" He was trashing under her now, losing all semblance of control as she worked him to his peak.
"Please..." his whines making her pussy throb with arousal, she picked up the pace, eager to see him fall apart for her.
"Be a good boy and cum for me." As she said those words she finally gripped his cock, squeezing him as he fell off the edge and into the most intense orgasm he'd ever had.
She got high off his desperate noises, the way he twitched as he orgasmed, clenching around her fingers, cock pulsing in her hand as his cum painted his stomach. It was so fucking beautiful, she couldn't look away even if she tried.
"Look at you. So pretty." She kissed his skin as the last of his aftershocks wore off. Her words were driving him insane, after everything that just happened, being flustered at a compliment seemed surreal but there he was.
It was the most intense experience of his life. And he couldn't be more grateful that he had her to guide him through it. He felt so sensitive and thoroughly wiped out, but in the best way possible.
"How you feeling, baby?" She posed the question as she gently cleaned up the mess he made all over his stomach using a tissue. He looked flushed and sated and she couldn't be more ecstatic about what just occured.
"Good." He let out a chuckle, meeting her gaze, melting at the way she was looking at him. So fondly, he couldn't cope.
"You did so good, angel. I'm so proud of you." Her words had him shook, the praise and approval making his insides feel like mush. If his skin wasn't already red from the intense scene he'd just been through, the blush would have been fierce.
"Thank you..." his soft whisper made the butterflies reappear in her tummy. He looked so fucking beautiful she couldn't handle it.
She made her way up his body, leaving soft kisses all over his skin, warming him up with each one. She kissed his face next, the salty remnant of the tears he'd shed from pleasure being washed away with soft pecks. It was so tender and sweet he almost cried all over again.
When her lips met his, he felt as though his heart just might burst at how full and happy he was. He had never felt this happy in his whole fucking life. How did he get so lucky?
"Holy shit, baby. That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He giggled at her words, making the smile on her face seem permanent. So fucking cute she couldn't handle it, leading her to smother his face in kisses, causing those giggles to come out again. She was in trouble.
"Alright, baby. Gonna go clean up, be right back." She laid a final peck on his lips before making her way to the bathroom. He felt cold as soon as her touch left him and he wondered how the hell he could miss someone who's only a room away.
She took her time washing her hands, making sure they were clean enough to touch him again. She wanted to run her fingers over his face and it killed her that she had to refrain. She knew he was feeling exhausted but she had one more thing in mind before they could relax. She was excited and hoped he had enough energy to handle it.
When she made her way back to the room she found him sleepily looking at her. He had a cute little smile on and her heart skipped a beat. She climbed back on top of him, warming him up all over again, making him release a relieved sigh. He wondered how healthy it was for him to need to be with her all the time, but he didn't have it in him to care too much. Her touch, her comfort, her care was addicting and he wouldn't want to change it for the world.
She kissed him softly, drawing out a satisfied moan from him as their tongues met. She cupped his face as she kissed him, taking his breath away once again. He slowly reached up to hold her closer, feeling relief he wasn't used to, once they were skin to skin.
"You were such a good boy for me." She kissed the corner of his mouth, leaving him to struggle with responding at how good it felt and how much he loved when she called him that.
"You up for more, baby?" The kisses travelled over his neck and his heart started racing once he processed her words.
"More? I don't know if I can..." he was all whiny and shy, not wanting to disappoint her but not feeling ready for another intense experience. He thought he was done.
"No?" She kissed under his ear making his eyes roll to the back of his head. She was driving him insane.
"You don't want your reward?" He gasped as she lightly bit into his shoulder, feeling like he'd float away any second. But then he realized what she'd said.
"What? You- Wh-" he was trying to force her to look at him, pulling her face gently up to meet her eyes as he stumbled over his words.
"Reward?" He was looking at her with wide eyes, confusion on his face obvious. She simply sat up and cocked a brow, waiting for him to figure it out. It took a minute for his brain to catch up with him but once it did he thought he'd lost it.
"You- Are you serious?" He was practically begging her to say yes with the way he was looking at her. Like if she said no, his heart would shatter.
"Mhm. If you think you can handle it." She shrugged and had to hold back a laugh when he started furiously nodding his head.
"Yes! I can. Please. Green. Yes, please. Please please please..." he was blushing at his desperation but couldn't hold it back. The though of finally getting to taste her was making every nerve in his body buzz in excitement. He was on the precipice of heaven and he couldn't handle rejection now.
"You sure? You weren't too excited earlier..." his stomach dropped at her words.
"No! I mean, yes! I am so sure, please. I just thought you meant more... of what happened earlier." He was blushing profusely as he tried to get her to understand he was serious about being able to handle eating her out.
The way he was acting all shy and sheepish and desperate was really tugging at her heartstrings.
"You mean when you came around my fingers?" His blush got fiercer as he shyly nodded. He hated how much she loved to tease him when he's so wound up. But the smile on her face in that moment almost made up for it.
"I don't know, it seemed like you were enjoying it..." She kept teasing him, running her fingers over his stomach causing him to squirm with the light tickles. She was playing with him and he knew it.
"You know I was. I just can't do more of that right now... But I can make you feel good. Please?" He was trying to hard not to let his frustration seep through in his words. He needed to stay on her good side if he wanted a chance to finally taste her tonight. But the eagerness which he felt was making him extra antsy, itching for a chance to have her in this new way.
"Since you asked so nicely and you took my fingers so well..." The blush on his face had no chance of leaving when she kept talking like that.
"I'm gonna ride your face. You okay with that, baby?" He was practically shaking with excitement, nodding his head an eager yes.
"Yes, please..." his whine had her tummy stirring again and the wetness from earlier returned.
Rafe thought he would pass out as he watched her straddling his chest, being so close to her heat he could almost smell it. He couldn't wait anymore, all his fantasies were coming alive in that moment. He thought he'd never craved anything more than to have her on his tongue. He knew once he tasted her he'd be addicted and he didn't care. He was so fucking close.
"If you want to stop or talk or anything, tap my thigh. Okay?" He was struggling to find words when he could see how pretty her pussy was up close and she was playing with his hair just right. A harsh tug broke his daze as he looked up at her and finally answered.
"Yes. Please sit on my face." She almost laughed at his eagerness but refrained, taking in the adorable little pout he had on his face.
"Okay, baby." She positioned herself above him and he felt like he'd explode in the few seconds it took for her to lower herself on his face. And then she was and it was paradise. He couldn't imagine anything in existence could ever be better than this moment.
Her scent, her taste, it was so fucking addicting right off the bat. He wasted no time exploring her with his mouth, savouring the new position he was lucky to end up in. His hands made home on her ass, feeling the plump skin, massaging it as his tongue licked at her warmth. He wasn't even aware of the noises he was making as he ate her, too consumed in her pussy and bringing her pleasure to hear the moans and groans leaving him. However, she could not only hear him, but feel the vibrations on her skin, making the pleasure of his whines that much stronger. It felt amazing. He was so good with his mouth, she had no doubt he would be but it was a whole other thing actually experiencing it firsthand.
She started to slowly grind on him and his moans only got louder, his movements more eager. He fucking loved this, loved having her ride his face. He could cum just from this, he'd swear. His cock was already fully hard again but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the woman on top of him, chasing her pleasure, using him - while he devoured his favorite meal of all time. He'd never enjoy the taste of anything more than her. He was a goner.
Her grinds got more intense, pressing her clit on his nose just right, causing his brain to go haywire at the way she was using him. His cock was twitching on his stomach at how hot this was. Moans finally left her lips and it was the most glorious of sounds. He squeezed her ass, wishing he could stay like this for an eternity.
He slipped his tongue inside her cunt and nearly wept when he felt her walls clench around the muscle. It was dirty and heavenly all at once. She reached back to tease his nipples, urging him on. He slurped and sucked on her clit, making sure to cherish every little moan and breath and clench she let out. It was the most erotic thing he'd ever witnessed. He wished he could see the look on her face when she came.
She was close, surprising herself at how quickly he managed to get her there. She buried her hand into his hair, riding his face just a little harder, chasing her high. She had never been this vocal in bed. He always brought out new experiences for her as well.
"I'm close, baby." He groaned into her pussy, hands urging her to go faster, to reach her orgasm. It only took a few more grinds of her hips for her to let go.
Then it was her juices, her taste and smell and sounds overwhelming all his senses. He lapped up every drop greedily, not wanting this moment to end. Her thighs closed around his head for a second but it was enough to have him almost reaching the end himself. He wouldn't do that though. Not again. Not without permission. This was about her. And God, was she incredible.
As the last of her shakes left her, she quickly pulled off of him, lowering herself down on his chest, eagerly checking on him. Her hands met his cheeks, his skin wet from her release and a big cheeky smile on his face when she met his eyes. He was so fucking high off of her coming in his mouth. The sexiest thing he'd ever experienced in his life.
"Thank you." Those were the first words that left him after he brought her to one of the most intense orgasms of her life. She wanted to curse at how pretty he looked all fucked out. The cheeky grin and the sparkling eyes driving her insane.
She hadn't let many people eat her out before, always focusing more on their pleasure, finding the act a bit too intimate for her liking. But damn if it didn't feel right with him. She could feel herself getting all soft and mushy inside, hoping he can't tell just how fucking smitten she was with him. She kissed him to hide her burning cheeks from his view, distracting them both, tasting herself on his tongue, swallowing up his moans, making them hers.
"If you're gonna reward me like that every time, I'm happy to do anal stuff any day now." She laughed at his words, running her fingers over his face gently, taking in the lovely moment of peace and contentment.
"You're telling me if I didn't let you eat me out, you wouldn't want me to fuck your ass?" He blushed at her words, letting her know just how much they affected him.
"No. I'd want it anyway." He was being honest and vulnerable, just like they talked about and it was doing funny things to her head.
"Thought so." She pretended to be serious for a moment but then let her guard down when she kissed all over his face again. His laugh made butterflies soar in her tummy. Fuck, if she didn't love that sound.
"I'm really glad you enjoyed it." She knew he had been apprehensive about trying anal play and she was honoured he trusted her enough to explore it with her for the first time.
"It was the best orgasm of my life." She chuckled and he looked at her so fondly she couldn't handle it.
"Nothing compared to how amazing it was having you ride my face, though." His cheeky smirk was back but she could hear the truth in his voice. He really did love eating her out. And she figured she'd let him to it more often since it was just so much fucking fun.
"You're a cheeky bastard, you know that?" He nuzzled into her skin, enjoying the playful banter they always ended up back in.
"Mhm. You like me, though." He kissed her shoulder, holding her that much closer, their naked bodies tangled together in the most wonderful mess of limbs.
"Sadly, I do. A frat guy, no less." He snorted a cute laugh and she couldn't help but laugh too.
"Luckiest frat guy in the world." His voice was so soft and he looked at her so fondly her breath caught in her throat.
He unhinged her. Every time she thought she finally stood on solid ground he went and said something sweet like that, honest like that, and shook her world to the ground again. The feelings that were bubbling inside her were way too serious and way to soon for her to entertain. So she did what she always did and shut him up with another kiss.
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#rafe cameron#the sounds of a good boy#drew starkey#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#sub!rafe x dom!reader#sub!rafe#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#obx fanfiction#outer banks fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#obx fic#obx#outer banks fic#outer banks#my work#tsoagb#dom!reader
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shut up and drive đ anakin skywalker
âif you can baby boy, then we can go all nightâ
đ
synopsis: after his race, anakin fucks you rough whether he won or not.
warnings: 18+ MDNI, modern!racer! anakin, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral (f reciving), praise kink, size kink
wc: 1.2k
ANAKIN SKYWALKER is the best racer. there's no doubt about that. everyone knew this. he's got tons of fans too. it feeds his ego to the brim.
you, being the supportive girlfriend you are, always went to his races. it didn't matter if he lost or won. you were getting used as soon as you got home. and you were completely okay with that.
here you were, standing all pretty on the sidelines of the tracks, watching your boyfriend in his fancy red car. he was doing pretty good.
that was until he saw you, all pretty watching him in his jacket that was oh too big on you.
he quickly fell behind a few other drivers. his grip on the steering wheel became tighter, knuckles turning white.
obi-wan turned to look at you. âwhat's he doing?â he asked you, his accent thick yet clear. he crossed his arms, watching anakin. â'm not sure.â you respond, brows furrowed and mouth parted slightly.
anakin shook his head, trying to get the thought of you out of his head. he pressed his foot a little harder on the gas, passing a few people until he moved from eighth all the way to third.
âatta boy.â obi-wan cheered, his hands moving to rest on his hips. you couldn't help but watch anakin's car in awe. anyone who looked at you would have sworn they saw stars in your eyes.
and you could have sworn you saw his ego get bigger with every sign he caught glimpse of. he was that guy who everyone went for. like travis kelce or messi. and he was well aware of that, thanks to you.
he loved when you would force him to make a video with you and read the comments out to him. "he's so fine." "he's not a want, he's a need." "adding him to the smash cake."
things like that fed anakin skywalker's ego.
you watched him closely while he passed second place, putting him in second instead. they were nearing the final lap, and you could see just how focused anakin was. his brows furrowed slightly and from what you could see, the veins in his hands popped out.
you'd be lying if you said it wasn't the hottest thing you'd ever seen.
anakin's eyes weren't even focused on the road. they were on stupid clovis and his car. anakin pressed his foot even harder on the gas, despite having a moral about not going over 225. but he'd rather not touch you for a year than loose to clovis.
he pressed down, going 235, then 250 once he'd passed clovis. there was no stopping him now. as soon as he'd made that final lap in first, you cheered with obi-wan. âholy shit.â you smiled proudly.
as soon as they waved the flag and announced the last-lap pass win, anakin got out of his car. he knew he wasn't really supposed to, but in that moment he didn't care. he had too much adrenaline.
he immediately rushed over to where you and obi-wan were standing. he wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up in the process.
small giggles escaped your perfectly pink lips, his favorite shade of lip gloss spread on them. "hi, ani." you smiled. he set you back down on the ground. "you go on home now baby, i'll see you when this is over. m'kay?" he kissed your temple, squeezing your waist gently.
sitting at home, you already knew what was coming when he walked through that door. whether he won a race or lost, you were getting fucked.
he threw his keys down on the counter, smiling at you. you laid on the couch, scrolling on your phone. already in one of his t-shirts. there was nothing anakin loved to see more.
he got on his knees in front of the couch, lips pressing kisses to your bare thighs. your toes curled slightly, legs stretching out. your phone was long forgotten about, tossed to the side. "hello to you too, ani." your words came out in a giggle as his hair brushed against your thigh.
he looked up at you, his eyebrows furrowed. a look of need spread across his face. he stood up, climbing on to the couch. his calloused hands came up to your chest, hands rubbing your breasts through your shirt.
his hands moved, rubbing up and down your sides. goosebumps coated your skin. your body arched to his touch, causing him to need you even more.
anakin moved down, hands resting on your tummy. he moved your shirt up, letting it rest comfortably on your hips. his fingers pulled your underwear down softly, careful not to hurt you.
you looked down at him, giggling softly. this was your favorite part of his races.
he kissed the inside of your thighs softly, his hair tickling your thighs again. he placed a kiss to your clit before licking a long stroke between your folds. you let out a breathy moan, back arching even more.
he continued to lick between your folds, occasionally sucking on your clit, causing your fingers to pull his hair. silently begging and pleading him for more. his tongue lapped around your folds before he attacked your aching clit. moans spilt from your lips.
"ani m'close." you managed to breath out. he immediately stopped, kissing your thighs again few times before sitting up despite your whines of protest.
you immediately stopped complaining when you heard anakin struggling to get his belt off. when he finally got it undone, he threw it somewhere in the living room. his dick was excruciatingly hard pressed up against his tummy. his tip was red and swollen. precum dripping down the side.
he pulled his boxers down, giving himself a few strokes before lining himself up with your entrance. he started off slow, pushing himself in. he knew he was big. no matter how many times you'd had sex before, he always started slow.
you couldn't hold back the moans that fell from your parted lips. he moved the sweaty hair out of your face. "doin' so good f'me baby." he cooed, moving deeper in you. "gonna fill you up so good." he caressed your cheek softly.
after you'd gotten used to his size, he bottomed out in you, causing you to let out a string of curse words and moans. "fuck ani. feels so good." you could hardly think.
he pressed his hands back down on your tummy, watching how deep he was in you. "look at my dick, fillin' you up so good." he moved faster, causing your eyes to water up with tears.
"you're such a good girl f'me baby. takin' my cock so well. atta girl." he praised, causing you to moan. you nodded your head quickly. he chuckled softly. "i know baby. you're so good."
his thrusts became more sloppy and needy when he sped up. you couldn't hold back from being excessively loud. "close ani." you whined out, the familiar knot in your stomach tightening. "i know baby. you wanna let go f'me?" he asked you, continuing his rough pace.
with a breathy moan, the knot came undone, letting your fluid coat his dick. with a few more thrusts, anakin finished inside you. he kissed your lips, pulling out from inside you. "you did such a good job baby. m'so proud of you." he cooed, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.
he laid down next to you on the couch, kissing your face softly. "shower now?" you giggled, sitting up. "oh no baby. i won tonight. we gotta long night ahead of us." anakin smirked.
i fear smut may not be my calling đ
#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker#star wars#hayden christensen x reader#hayden christensen#scott barringer#sam monroe#james kelly#stephen glass
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The tale of two cities according to Heiko and Stephi - Part 500
Unbelievable! This is the 500th part of our "Tales"! So Heiko and I thought that something special was needed.
But first of all, we want to thank you. You are fantastic, and without you and your comments, this wouldn't have been the same.
In the past years we have visited each other a few times, and this week we both wrote something about what we think the biggest differences of our hometowns are.
Let's start with Heiko's text and the photo (the first one) he took in Munich:
Today is our 500th Tale, which is pretty unbelievable. Yet, I admit that we are repeating ourselves a lot when it comes to the seasons (watch our for Christmas time) and we might even have repeated ourselves in some subjects. Still, we are doing the Tales for almost 10 years, a feat neither Stephi nor myself would have ever thought we would accomplish.
We also visited the other personâs city a couple of times and there are some differences about them. Picking out one, I would say that Munich is just bigger and you really need some time to explore the city. It just looked vaster to me. It seemed that you always need e tram or train to get to another spot. In Cologne, on one of Stephiâs trip, we went on foot and within a couple of hours I was able to show her the heart of the city with some of the most important places. I admit that if we took a tram, we would have been able to see other spots as well that are not in the center but more on the fringes, but you can spend a couple of days in Cologne by foot and see a lot of great and important places. I never had that feeling in Munich as the tourist attractions and other cool places were further apart.
Basically, you can spend a day in Cologne and see a lot of the city. I donât think that would have been able in Munich. Yet, itâs well worth to spend more days in Cologne and go into some local pubs to get to know the people of the city and itâs flair. That will pass you by when you are only in the center that is usually crowded with tourists.
Another difference are the temperatures I experienced. Today it was cold and windy in Cologne. But I have never felt temperatures like on that trip in January 2017. That was cold and could have served as my own personal hell.
My picture from Munich is from that cold January trip and I am trying to show the vastness of the city.
Other things are petty similar though. I have seen some cool parks in Munich in which people hang out. The same is true for Cologne.
Since I spend most time with Stephi and Pete (and Fern on one trip), I didnât get know other people from Munich. But according to Stephi, the people are pretty cool and open minded, other than the impression you get from Bavarianâs politicians and the way people vote. Cologne also praises itself for being open minded and I usually find that to be true.
I could probably go on for a while but I still want to thank you for sticking with us, reading our Tales and responding from time to time. I rarely respond but I really do appreciate your comments and feedback, read and enjoy it. Thank you all very much.
Now to my text and the photo I took in Cologne:
I think, Cologne and Munich are both great but very different cities. During my visits to Cologne, I was most impressed by the cathedral and the river Rhine. We inhabitants of Munich love our cathedral but - if I'm honest - the "Frauenkirche" isn't very impressive. At least not as impressive as the "Kölner Dom". Munich has a sweet little river, the Isar. It's nice for swimming and for spending some quality time. The river Rhine is way bigger and more impressive, but it's not a good idea to swim in it. I guess, you can't have everything. In my opinion, both rivers belong to the highlights of our respective hometowns, but in a different way.
Munich is close to the mountains and has beautiful surroundings. If you ever visit Munich you should take the time to visit the surroundings as well. Munich and Cologne look very different but the biggest differences for me are the people. When I was in Cologne, I found the citizens so nice, and refreshing, funny, and honest. During my first visit to Cologne, I took a taxi and the taxi driver wasn't only funny, he even wanted to share his breaktime snack with me and offered some radishes. I can't imagine something like that happening in Munich. Munich's citizens are more stiff and not as open as the ones of Cologne are.
Have you ever visited both cities? What do you think are the most differences of our hometowns?
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Study Buddy 3
Warnings:this series will include dark elements which may include bullying, noncon or dubcon, or violent behaviour. Mind the warnings.
Summary:Â a group project leads to a tense partnership.
Character:Â Walter Marshall
Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know Iâm always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment â€ïž
Despite his prickliness, Walter doesnât shy away from contributing to the work. You watch him thumb through his well-worn copy of the novel, notes scribbled in the margins and tabs stuck to different marks. The only difficult part is making yourself heard.Â
âHmm,â he shifts his chair closer to you, dragging it around the sharp corner, âI like how you worded that but I think you should move it.âÂ
He points to one sentence then shifts his aim further down. You reread and nod. âI guess that makes more sense.âÂ
He grumbles. Even agreeing with him seems to disappoint him. You sit back and stretch out your fingers.Â
âDo you mind if I use your bathroom quick?â You asks.Â
âSure, down the hall,â he gestures over his shoulder.Â
âThanks, uh, wonât be long.âÂ
You get up and step around him, his chair leaving only a narrow path between him and the wall. You hook around into the hallway and make yourself as small as you can, afraid to disturb anything. Somehow, you think heâd no if you only dusted off a shelf or tugged on a curtain.Â
You find the bathroom and as much as you want to hide, you donât waste your time. Or his. The quicker this is over, the better. You figure, once you get a full draft done, you can agree to edit in the shared doc.Â
You dry your hands with the plain waffled hand towel then flip back the lock. As you emerge, a rattling cough greets you from just beside the doorway. Itâs that girl, Faye. His daughter.Â
âOoh, sorry, I wasnât meaning to...â you begin as she leans heavily on the frame and shivers. She has a blanket around her shoulders as she chatters, he skin clammy, and her eyes about to roll back. âUm, Faye, was it? Are you alright?âÂ
âMmmm,â she hums. âMom?âÂ
You wince as she murmurs something else you canât make out. She slips down the wall and you barely manage to catch her. Sheâs thin but tall. As you hold her up, you feel the heat radiating from her.Â
âHere,â you help her through the door and sit her down on the closed toilet seat. She hunches forward and shakes uncontrollably. You touch her forehead. Sheâs as hot as a kettle. âI should get your dad...âÂ
âMommy?â She whines and you flinch again. Walter didnât mention a wife but she must have a mother, rigiht?Â
âOkay,â you turn and search the small cupboard mounted behind the door. Â
You take a wash cloth and delicately fold it, then wet it in the sink with cold water. You wring it out and spread it over her forehead. You guide her hands to the edges and have her lean back as her head tips.Â
âStay like that, okay? Iâll be right back.âÂ
âIâm so cold,â she babbles.Â
âI know,â you wring your hand around a single finger. âUm, one sec.âÂ
You watch her for a moment, making sure she doesnât slide one way or the other, then leave her. You hurry back down the hall. You find Walter jabbing the keys on his own.Â
âUh, Walter?â You eke out. âFaye uh...âÂ
âWhat?â He looks over his shoulder, a crease in his forehead.Â
âSheâs not feeling very well. She has a pretty bad fever,â you say.Â
He sighs and stands up. You back out of his way and let him past. He heads down the hallway and you keep your distance. You stay a few feet away as you watch him approach the bathroom door. He looks inside and you hear Fayeâs monotonous drone.Â
âShit,â he growls as he enters.Â
You donât want to intrude. You hesitate, wavering on your feet, then turn back. Itâs none of your business. Not until your name stops you. You turn back to the hall.Â
âUm, yeah?âÂ
âCan you come here?â Walter calls.Â
Itâs not so much a question as an order. You slowly advance down the hall and peek around the frame. Walter kneels before his daughter as she slumps forward and mutters senselessly.Â
âI need you to hold onto her or sheâll fall.âÂ
âOkay,â you move into the tight space and he stands, holding her by her shoulders. You grab her and she leans into you.Â
He looks down at her and shakes his head, âgoddamnit. I got night shift...âÂ
His voice trails off and he turns, stepping around you to get to the door. He strides out heavily and you look down at the girl quivering against you. She reaches to cling to the front of your sweater.Â
âDo you want some water or something?â You offer.Â
âMy head hurts,â she whines.Â
You ease back and bend to come to a level with her. You stretch your arm across her shoulders to support her. She coughs, âmy belly hurts.âÂ
You sniff. Youâre not equipped for this. You have a hard enough time taking care of yourself.Â
âAlright.â You take the cloth from her hand. You get her to lean back again and run more water over the cloth. You bring it back to her forehead. âDo you want to lay down?âÂ
She gurgles and nods. Before you can go get her dad, she latches onto you. She pulls herself up and you can only help. You donât know what else to do.Â
You let her lead you to her room and you get her into bed. You fix the cloth over her head and she moans. You frown.Â
âWhat are you doing?â Walter startles you and you turn to find him in the doorway.Â
âDo you have Aspirin? And ice?â You ask. âShe needs to stay hydrated. The aspirin should break her fever.âÂ
âI donât... know. Maybe in the car.âÂ
âI have some in my purse,â you insist. âAnd ice? You have that?âÂ
âSure,â he answers as you approach him. He watches you with that stoic sense of disapproval. âIâll get some.âÂ
âYeah, er, thanks.â You utter, confounded how a study session turned into this.Â
#walter marshall#dark walter marshall#dark!walter marshall#walter marshall x reader#night hunter#series#drabble#study buddy
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