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pedrospatch · 3 months ago

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call it what it is

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel. fair warning, i am quite rusty.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: hi hello. i have not shared a wip in over 2 months. i was going back and forth on whether or not i wanted to share a fic with so much going on but decided i wanted to get back to doing what i enjoy. that and ofc that new footage was a boost of inspo. i am sending so, so much love to anyone who happens to see this author note, whether you read this fic or just happen to see this note in passing whilst scrolling. i know things have been tough, but i am here with you. <3

Joel wakes with a gentle start. Yawning, he rolls over from his side onto his back, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as warm, golden sunlight filters into the bedroom through the sheer, white linen curtains drawn over the window. He stares up at the ceiling, his breathing slow, steady, and even. He’s still getting used to it, it seems. Waking this calmly, with a tranquil peace he had been so certain he would never in his life feel again. He knew it couldn’t be a mere coincidence the nightmares had all but stopped tormenting him in his sleep when the two of you stopped doing that awkward little tap dance around one another and began sharing a bed, a home, a life.

No more bolting upright in sheer panic in the middle of the night, heart pounding and drenched head to toe in a cold sweat. No more believing he’s failing in his sleep. No more waking up feeling like he’s lost something.

Even his dreams about Sarah had become so, so much more pleasant. Images of her in that field on that night were replaced by different memories, like watching her teammates dogpile her after she’d scored the winning goal in their soccer tournament, or the big, triumphant grin she’d flashed him over her chocolate milkshake as the pair sat in their usual corner booth at their favorite fifties-themed diner in Austin—much to Joel’s surprise, Sarah had politely declined her teammates’ invitation for pizza once the match ended, choosing to celebrate her victory with him. Just the two of them.

“Y’sure you don’t wanna go with your friends, kiddo?” he’d asked, raising an eyebrow. He had been certain she was approaching the age where she would start spending less and less time with her old man. “I wouldn’t mind, y’know.”

“Positive,” she had reassured him with a smile, looping her arm through his and leading him off the pitch. “I’d much rather be with you, dad.”

Rather than smelling metallic in his slumber, he smells the grass that stained her white and blue striped jersey. Her cheeks are smeared with dirt, not with crimson.

Stifling another loud yawn, Joel stretches his arm out over towards your side of the bed, his calloused fingers seeking the warmth and softness of your naked body—instead, all they find are empty sheets, cold and long abandoned. He turns his head, and as suspected, you are not laying there beside him. That’s hardly out of the ordinary. Out of the two of you, you were the early riser, up before the neighbors’ rooster even had the chance to sound the alarm. Joel knows how much you treasure your quiet mornings lounging on the porch swing he’d built for you as you watched the sunrise with a hot cup of coffee in hand. He often made a genuine effort to get up and join you, but lately, his patrol rotations had been all over the place thanks to a shortage of patrolmen. He found himself sleeping in whenever he had the chance, seeing as he never knew when he might have to work a damn double. Or maybe it was just his age catching up with him.

He checks the time and then rolls out of bed, groaning when his sore knees and his aching lower back protest his movement.

After taking a quick shower using whatever hot water the kid had left for him after her own shower—much to his annoyance, it was not very much—Joel brushes his teeth and gets dressed for the day before pulling on his boots and heading downstairs into the kitchen where he finds the culprit responsible for the cold downpour he’d been forced to wash himself under. Ellie’s sitting at the table, absentmindedly stirring her oatmeal around her bowl with her spoon as she flips through one of her comic books. Just as he’s about to greet her, he spots the clean, empty coffee pot on the kitchen counter and frowns. You hadn’t even made coffee yet?

Now, that—that is out of the ordinary.

“Where is she?” he asks.

“Well, good morning to you too, old man. Oh, I slept great, thanks for asking,” Ellie quips without looking up at him as she flips the page. She mumbles something under her breath he doesn’t quite catch, something like, and you get on my ass about my manners?

Rolling his eyes, Joel snorts in response and pads over to the coffee maker on the counter. He spoons in some of the grounds he’d traded for earlier that week into the reusable filter, pours in water from the tap, and turns it on to brew. He grabs two ceramic mugs from the wire dish rack beside the sink and sets them down on the counter. “She out back?” he questions, yanking the refrigerator door open—he tries to remember the little things, like how you enjoyed your coffee with a bit of milk as well as a dash of cinnamon, if you had the rations, or something to trade for the precious spice. He always made sure that you did.

“Nope.” Ellie shovels a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth and adds thickly, “She went to get some eggs.”

Joel shoots her a look of disgust over his shoulder. “Jesus, Ellie! How many times do I gotta tell you? Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s bad manners,” he scolds her, shaking his head. He turns his attention back to the refrigerator. As he reaches for the glass bottle of milk, he pauses and his eyebrows pull together in confusion when he sees the wicker basket on the top shelf. “Wait a minute.” He feels her stiffen in her chair. “Why the hell would she go get eggs when we’ve got a full basket of ‘em right here in the fridge?”

She clears her throat. “Oh, uh, my bad. I got confused. Think she said she was gonna go get more honey? Uh, I used the last of it to make my breakfast this morning and she, uh—she wanted some for her toast. You know, ‘cause she really likes putting honey on her toast,” she rambles before piling more oatmeal into her mouth.

Closing the refrigerator door, he turns to her, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as uneasiness settles deep in the pit of his stomach. “Ellie?”

There’s a momentary pause. “...yeah?”

This time, Joel doesn’t bother to chastise the teenager for talking with her mouth full. “Where is she?”

Ellie nervously swallows her food and holds up both of her hands. “Hey, I already fucking told you, man.”

“Look, I know you like the back of my own hand, kiddo. And I know damn good and well when you’re lying to me.” Joel crosses his arms over his chest. “Now tell me the truth. What do you know that I don’t?”

Groaning, Ellie sits back in her chair. “Ugh. She made me swear not to tell you! She’ll fucking strangle me if I do—”

“Yeah, well, not if I fuckin’ strangle you first myself,” he threatens her. “M’Serious, Ellie. Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

“Alright, alright! Jesus,” she huffs. “She’s with Tommy. He’s been taking her out of town to do target practice in the mornings, just the two of them. She usually gets back to the house before you get up,” she admits.

Joel’s arms fall back to his sides, his shoulders tense. “And how long has this been goin’ on?” he asks, rigidly. There’s a sudden tightness inside his chest, a feeling he hasn’t felt it in a while, but is still all too familiar to him.

After Tommy spread the word around town that more people were needed for patrol duties, you’d expressed an interest in the role, but Joel had been all too quick to shut you down, telling you he didn’t want you stepping foot outside the community’s gates.

“No,” he’d said. “Not happenin’. S’too dangerous.”

“But Joel—”

“I said,” he lowered his voice. “No.”

He hadn’t offered you an explanation as to why he was against it, refused to give you one good, solid reason as to why it was acceptable for him to risk his own life to protect Jackson, but it wasn’t acceptable for you to do the same.

Joel hadn’t known how to tell you the truth. How he needed you far, far more than you needed him, how the mere thought of losing you, the best fucking thing that could have possibly happened to him since the world ended, made him feel like his heart was going to stop.

A few weeks had passed since then, and thankfully, you never brought it up to him again. You had lost interest in patrol duty. Or so he’d thought.

“How long has this been going on?” he repeats after a minute.

“C’mon, man! Haven’t I already snitched enough?”

“Ellie,” Joel bites out her name. “Tell me. How long?”

She sighs in defeat. “Two weeks? Maybe three?” When she notices the muscle in his jaw tick, she grimaces. “You do realize why she didn’t fucking tell you, right?”

“Don’t,” he warns her, sharply.

“I’m just saying,” Ellie mutters, peering down into her bowl.

Without another word, Joel angrily storms past her and straight out the front door, snatching up his rifle on the way. He heads straight for the stables, trying to ignore the anxiety flaring inside of his chest.

Focus.

Now, breathe in. And breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe...

You exhale as you slowly squeeze the trigger.

Y’squeeze it like you love it, you had been told by your reluctant instructor.

The round fires off into the distance and you swiftly grab the bolt handle, bringing it up, back, forward, and then down again. You pull the trigger once more, then repeat and continue firing one shot after the other for a total of five rounds.

The rifle’s recoil nearly sends you flying backwards, but a strong hand on your back keeps you nice and steady. That same hand then moves to your shoulder and gives you three firm taps.

“Alright, alright! Christ,” Tommy laughs. He withdraws his arm from around you and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ calm down, Annie Oakley.”

Picking up his binoculars, he rises to his feet and looks through the lens at the makeshift targets that he’d set up for you, three empty soup cans lined up in a row on top of a wooden fence about twenty-five yards away—your longest shooting distance to date.

“Well?” You don’t even bother masking your impatience as you lower the rifle, carefully propping the weapon up against the tree stump you’re perched behind. Rubbing your sore shoulder, you hope the kickback won’t leave a bruise. You wouldn’t know how to explain that to Joel. “How did I do?”

His response comes in the form of a long, low whistle.

There is no telling if that had been good whistle, or if it had been a bad one. You groan. Now was not the time for him to dick around. “Please tell me I got at least one of them?”

“You got ‘em all, actually.” Tommy replies, lowering the binoculars and peering down at you. There’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “Good job, kid.”

Kid? Not exactly a nickname one wants to be called by the brother of the much, much older man that they are romantically involved with. It’d taken Tommy months to accept your relationship with Joel, especially when you moved your things out of your unit and into his over the summer. Part of you wonders if him referring to you as a kid is simply his own subtle way of telling you—no, of reminding you, that he’s still not comfortable with it.

And perhaps he never would be.

After all, you had still been a teenager when you first arrived to Jackson a few years ago, stumbling upon the town just a few months shy of the twentieth birthday you weren’t sure you would survive long enough to see.

You were indeed a kid when you’d met Tommy Miller.

Were.

Scowling up at him, you snap, “I told you to stop calling me that. I’m not nineteen anymore, Tommy.”

Having read your mind, he gives you a small smile and acknowledges, “Yeah, you’re right. You definitely ain’t a kid anymore.” He offers you his hand and hoists you up to your feet. Before dropping your hand, he gives it an apologetic squeeze.

You relax a little and smile back at him. “Did I really get all three?”

Tommy nods. “You sure did. You’re a damn good shot. I gotta be honest with you—I didn’t expect you to be this fuckin’ good,” he admits sheepishly.

Chuckling, you scoff, “Thanks. I think.”

“It’s a compliment, sugar.” He winks and flashes you a lopsided grin. “In fact, I’d say my work here is done.”

“Great! So when are you putting me on the roster?”

His grin instantly vanishes. “Uh, listen. About that....”

He trails off, and your heart sinks a little.

Tommy wouldn’t back out of this now—would he?

“Oh, no. Don’t you dare go back on your word, Miller,” you say, lightly poking him in the chest. “We had a deal. You said if I did well enough, you’d think about it.”

He nods in agreement. “Exactly. Said I’d think about it. And I think that puttin’ you on the roster for patrol ain’t a good idea.”

Your mouth falls open. If he never had any intention of holding up his end of the bargain, then what had been the point of teaching you how to shoot?

You didn’t understand.

“You just said it yourself, I’m a great shot! I’m a good on horseback, too. I’m stealthy. I’m diligent. What more do you fucking need from me, Tommy?”

Tommy’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “Joel would fuckin’ murder me with his bare hands if I even thought about puttin’ you on patrol duty. Hell, he’d murder me just knowin’ we’re out here and I’m teachin’ you how to shoot. It’s a damn fuckin’ miracle he still hasn’t caught onto this, y’know.”

Shocked, your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. “This is about Joel? Are you serious?”

“‘Course it is.” He pauses. “Listen, now I know the three of us had our—differences—when he first told me ‘bout you two. Still takin’ me a bit of gettin’ used to, but I can see he’s real serious about you. I know my brother, and I know he won’t risk losin’ what’s most important to him. Ain’t no way in hell. He doesn’t want you out here and you know that as well as I do.” Tommy shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging as he shuffles his weight from one cowboy boot to the other. “Unless he’s alright with it, I ain’t gonna put you on the roster.”

For a moment, you’re at a complete loss for words.

Upon seeing the crestfallen expression on your face, he makes a suggestion. “You can try talkin’ to him ‘bout it again if it means that much to you. Ask him—”

“Ask?” You want to laugh. You almost do. “I’m an adult, Tommy. I don’t need his permission to do this. Or to do anything for that matter. Joel doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

Tommy smiles wryly. “Well then, if that’s the case, why are we sneakin’ around and doin’ this behind his back?”

Your shoulders slump in defeat.

Because the ramifications could be disastrous.

Joel had made his stance on the matter abundantly clear, and yet here you were, deliberately disobeying him.

“Stumped you real good, didn’t I?”

Before you can even start to think about how you can possibly respond to that, you hear the sound of hooves in the dirt behind you, followed by whinny of a horse.

Tommy’s face pales as he glances over your shoulder.

“Shit.”

There’s no need for you to ask. His grimace says it all.

Somehow, you will yourself to turn around just as Joel’s steed comes to a halt beside the mare you and Tommy had ridden out on together. He jumps out of the saddle, grunting at the forceful impact on his knees when his feet hit the ground. His rifle hangs from a worn, brown leather strap slung across his back.

He approaches the two of you looking absolutely livid, and your throat goes dry.

“The hell is goin’ on here?” He breezes right past you, roughly shoving his brother with both hands. “Why the fuck would you bring her out here, Tommy? What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Joel, c’mon. Take it easy—”

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to take it easy!”

“Joel!” You reach for his arm. “Wait, it’s not his fault!”

Joel shoves him again, then takes him by the collar of his shirt and pins him against the ponderosa pine tree behind him. “You’ve been bringin’ her outside the gates behind my fuckin’ back for weeks, asshole?”

The panic begins to set in—he’s taking his anger out on the wrong person, and deep down, he knows this too.

“Joel! Stop! Let him go!” Grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, you try pulling him off of the younger man. “Stop it! It’s not his fault! I asked Tommy to bring me out here!”

He whirls around, his nostrils flared, jaw clenched.

You’ve seen this side of him a handful of times before.

But his anger has never been directed at you.

“What?”

Immediately, you let go of him and take a step back. “I asked Tommy to bring me out here and teach me how to shoot so that I can start working patrol,” you explain, hoping, praying, he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. “This was all my idea, okay? If you’re going to be mad at someone, then be mad at me. Not at him.”

“So you did this after I fuckin’ told you I didn’t want you out here?” Joel seethes. His neck becomes flushed, his tan skin now a deep shade of red.

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “I had to find out from Ellie? You tried to get her to fuckin’ lie to me? After all the work it took for me and her to—” Stopping mid sentence, he places his hands on his hips and shakes his head.

“Joel. Please.” Behind the anger in his dark brown eyes, you detect something else. A mingle of hurt, concern—fear?

Tommy awkwardly clears his throat. “Well I’m, uh—I’m gonna head back to town,” he says, touching a hand to the back of his neck. “I’ll let the two of you work things out in private.” As he passes Joel, he lightly claps him on the shoulder. “Girl’s a sharp shooter, big brother. I’d reckon she’s almost better than you.”

His effort to lighten the mood fails. Miserably.

Offering you a subtle nod of encouragement, Tommy hops into the saddle of his mare and takes off towards the commune.

Silence falls over the both of you. It feels suffocating.

Unfamiliar.

Finally, you speak. “Joel, please just hear me out—”

“What the hell were you thinkin’? Or were you just not thinkin’ at all?”

“I was thinking I want to pull my weight in Jackson.”

“You already have a fuckin’ job,” Joel reminds you.

“Making sandwiches and serving whiskey at The Tipsy Bison?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I am capable of more than that, Joel. So much more. Don’t you believe I’m capable of doing more?”

“I don’t want you out here,” he grits through his teeth. “Capable or not, I don’t want you outside Jackson’s walls. I don’t want you on patrol and that’s fuckin’ final. You understand me?” Now it’s him who falters, and you wonder if you’re imagining things, or if that’s really a tear you see sliding down the side of his face, disappearing into the salt and pepper scruff of his beard.

“That’s not your decision to make, Joel. It’s mine.”

“M’responsible for you. It’s my job to look after you—to protect you.”

Something about the way he is looking at you, it feels like a punch to the gut, and it’s at that precise moment when you begin to realize that he’s not angry. He’s afraid.

“Joel, I know that all you want to do is protect me,” you sigh, letting your arms fall down to your sides. “I know you do. But you’re doing me no favors by trying to keep me sheltered. By treating me like I’m defenseless. Don’t forget, I’m a survivor too.”

“You already know how fuckin’ dangerous it is out here. Clickers, raiders—”

“I can handle it,” you insist, stubbornly.

“You’d be puttin’ yourself right in harm’s way!”

You shoot back, “You mean, the way you and so many other people put yourselves in harm’s way every single day for the sake of keeping Jackson safe?”

A frustrated growl rumbles through his chest. “Christ, why are you bein’ so fuckin’ foolish? You’re just askin’ to get yourself killed!”

“I can take care of myself!” You realize your hands are shaking and curl them into tight fists at your sides in an effort to hide it. “Just accept it, Joel! Accept that I can take care of myself, alright?”

That is all it takes to tip Joel over the edge he’s been teetering on. “Then what do you fuckin’ need me for?” he shouts, his voice thundering over the quiet plains of Wyoming. “If you can take care of yourself, what’s the point in us bein’ together? Why are you with me?”

“Because I love you!”

As soon as the confession comes tumbling out of your mouth, you take a step back, your wide eyes meeting his own. Until now, neither of you have ever called this what it is, been bold enough to say it’s love.

Loving after so much grief, so much loss, is daunting. It’s something you thought you would never be capable of doing again, not in this lifetime. Not in this world. It’s happened, though.

You love Joel Miller.

And he loves you.

He’s never told you he does, but he’s shown you.

From the way remembers how you take your coffee in the mornings, to the way he laces his fingers with your own, holding your hand when he’s buried inside of you, whispering sweet nothings into your collarbone every single night.

“You—you what?” Joel’s whisper is hardly audible.

You inch your way closer to him, your voice soft. “I love you,” you declare once more. “I’m not with you because of what you can do for me. I’m not with you because you can take care of me.” Closer. “I’m with you because I love you—because I’m in love with you, Joel.” Closer, until your chest brushes against his, and he can smell the subtle scent of your homemade, rosewater soap. “The only thing I need, and have ever needed from you, is your love in return.”

His throat bobs. Before you can utter another word, he lifts his hands and gently takes your face, cradling it in between his large palms, gently. His eyes search yours, immediately finding the sincerity behind your words. Leaning down, he brushes the tip of nose against your own as one of his hands travels down, his long fingers curling around the nape of your neck. His thumb lightly strokes the column of your throat.

“I love you,” Joel says hoarsely. Three words he hadn’t said to anyone in over two decades—it feels foreign to him, they ring strange in his own ears. He tries it again, clearer this time, and with a little more confidence. After all, he’s only saying what he has known from the very start. “I love you.” His other hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer to him. “M’gonna love you for the rest of my life, baby.”

He leans in further and presses his lips to yours lightly, at first, but he wastes no time in sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip, silently asking for more.

Your mouth parts for him, and he backs you against the ponderosa, kissing you deeply, greedily, like he’s a man starved.

You whimper into him, your hands sliding up his broad chest and past his shoulders until they’re tangled in his soft, graying curls. He breathes you in, like you are the oxygen he needs to stay alive.

It isn’t until you both hear the sound of rustling behind a nearby shrub that you’re forced to pull apart. “Don’t move,” Joel instructs in a hushed voice. He keeps you pinned against the tree, his hand abandoning your hip. He glances around, slowly reaching behind his back for his rifle. His tense shoulders relax when the both of you see a pair of rabbits dart out from one dried bush and straight into another. Exhaling an amused huff, Joel shifts his attention back to you and rests his forehead against yours.

Smiling, you reach up and softly graze his beard with your fingertips. “Guess it’s about time we called this what it is, huh?”

“Guess you’re right, darlin’.” He lifts his chin, brushing a kiss onto your forehead. “M’sorry for raisin’ my voice to you. For talkin’ to you the way I did. S’just, the thought of somethin’ happenin’ to you out here scares shit out of me.” Taking a step back, he pulls the strap of his rifle from around his shoulder. He chews the inside of his cheek and silently stares at the gun in his hands. After a minute, he meets your curious gaze. “Do you really wanna do this, sweet girl?”

You nod. “Yeah. I really do.”

Joel sighs. “Can I put a condition it?”

“Depends on what that condition is.”

“I’m your patrol partner. Every shift. Every rotation.”

You roll your eyes. “Joel.”

“At least for the first few weeks,” he bargains. “Last thing I need is for you to be paired up with some fuckin’ idiot who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doin’.”

Knowing that would be the only way he’d have some peace of mind, you decide to agree. “Fine. We’re patrol partners.”

“Alright then.” Joel nods and hands you the rifle. He flashes you a small grin. “Show me what you got, baby.”

divider credit to @/saradika 💛

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

#joel miller x reader #fic: call it what it is #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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tinalbion · 3 months ago

Text

'𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐧' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x afab!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with plot, afab!reader, mutant!reader, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, canon typical language, angst, feelings

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 7k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Logan are taken to another timeline that you could possibly help save, but your deep-rooted love for him is the only thing keeping you going anymore, but he doesn't seem to feel that way at all. Could you get Logan to see reason why you're here with him, or will it fall on deaf ears?

As everyone has been inspired by that dang Honda scene from Deadpool and Wolverine, I was as well, and listening to 'Lies' by Trifonic really helped fuel the backstory between Logan and reader here.

____________________________________________

You weren’t sure how you ended up in a field, miles away from what you called your home, but the smell of smoke and fire woke you from your aching slumber. Whether it was the distant sounds of the fire crackling or the smell of it finally getting a rise out of you, you weren’t certain, but you wandered in a haze through the burnt grass fields. Your eyes were glued to the remnants of Xavier’s school for gifted people, your kind, mutants. The screams of sadness that wanted to come from deep within were stuck in your throat, your watery eyes stared at the scene as you looked around for any survivors, wondering if there were any.

As much as it pained you considering how much blood you’ve already lost, you dug for hours and found things you wanted no part in finding, but there was that damn sliver of hope you clung to for whatever reason, and the one man you wished you could find wasn’t here… maybe he was safe. You wandered toward the front entrance of the mansion and fell to the ground, sobbing as you waited for anyone to help, or maybe you waited for a swift death to someone who would grant it to you. There was always the hatred for your kind, mutants, freaks, and there would always be that stupid luck someone would stumble upon you and put you out of your misery.

But as luck would have it, a slightly buzzed Logan walked up to the entrance, seeing you on the ground sobbing, the flames behind you, and the destruction that lay behind you. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing at first, thinking that maybe the alcohol finally did hit him, especially since it took him ages to even get drunk in the first place.

“Hey, that you…?” Logan asked gruffly as he stumbled toward you, seeing you coated in crimson.

You looked up, wide eyes filled with tears, and thinking you were seeing ghosts now. “L-Logan?” You asked, shaking. “Oh Gods, you’re alive?” You shot up to your feet and ran to him, stumbling into his broad chest as you sobbed heavily against him.

He looked past you as one arm lazily wrapped around you, his eyes drinking in the reality he was seeing. “What the hell happened here…?” His voice was low, cracking, and he was unable to control his tone.

“Logan, the humans… they came and destroyed everyone… we thought we’d have it, but… I can’t find anyone alive. Logan… they’re all dead,” you said through sobs.

The world around him stopped and time was nothing to him anymore, the news of their deaths… all of them, it was impossible. There were so many mutant lives and so many powers that were practically unstoppable, and yet you stood here telling him no one survived, save for you.

“How… how did you live?” He asked, his tone shifting from shocked to what you thought was defensive.

Your eyes widened and began to shake as you thought he sounded… accusatory. “Logan, I didn’t do this-”

“I never said you did,” he replied quickly, trying to shut that thought down, but the damage was already starting.

“You pretty much did, but if you must know, my power… you know I can’t control it when I’m unconscious…” You said shamefully, rubbing your arm as you stepped back, but he pulled you toward him, his hand firm on your arm.

“Where were you?” You asked him, your eyes stared into his as he suddenly shifted, the entire mood was off, and he turned away from your gaze. “Logan, we called for you… what happened?”

“Don’t,” he said, more of a plead than a warning, “I ain’t accusing you of anything,” he assured you, but you were still so confused and scared, you weren’t sure what to make of everything just yet.

What would you think of him, what would you say when you found out he was too busy getting shitfaced at the bar, and not back at the mansion where he should have been? He seemed uneasy as his grip loosened from your arm, but he didn’t fully let go of you. You were the one part of this life, this world that wasn’t gone, and all he could do was stare at the flaming heap of rubble behind you.

Your relationship with Logan was one of complication, you knew that from the moment you two met, he was just a complicated man. One capable of loving too hard, hurting too strongly, and feeling rage more than anyone possibly could. But you loved him anyway, you just never managed to fully tell him that, even now you couldn’t find yourself muttering the words ‘I love you,’ and you figured you never would. He loved her, and only her. You would never compare in his eyes, and after a long time, you were content with that, because you would still be there for him despite the heartache you felt.

You often felt the sharp sting of hurt, jealousy, and uselessness because all you could think was ‘I’m not her’, and it would quite possibly be your downfall. And you were still there for him, despite so many others telling you to give up. If you gave up, you’d be no better than those who’d given up on him in his past, and you could never bring yourself to do that. You were dedicated, if anything.

But here and now, as you sobbed against him as your blood slowly soaked back up into your body, gently healing your wounds, you could feel the sadness and the guilt that came with surviving.

“I was…”

He didn’t have to say it, the smell of the booze on his breath finally hit you and you were disappointed in yourself for not realizing it sooner. You had tried to get him to stop, you really did, but the heartbreak was too much for him to handle, and it’s not like you could have stopped it anyway…

“No, I get it…” You sighed and looked back at the mansion as you pulled away from him, Logan felt the pain within the distance, but he didn’t comment on it. “I’m gonna… go and see what I can find, I don’t know…” You wiped more tears from your eyes and sighed.

Logan watched as you walked off, back into the flaming rubble, unable to speak his mind, unable to apologize. If he was there, maybe he could have stopped it all, everyone would still be alive, and you’d all be a little happier. That was a lie, he knew that, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t hope.

That day was the first day it all went even further downhill.

You remained with Logan, glued to his side even though he remained inside the bar more than any other place, yet you felt you should be there for him even though there was that voice in the back of your mind saying he wasn’t there for you. For them. But what kind of person would you be if you abandoned him? You’d be just like the rest, and you refused to be them, so as much as it pained you to see him drink his life away, you stood by his side. You helped him, and became his caretaker, which was pathetic of you in the first place, but you still loved him, even after all of that. What became of the X-Men, well, all the humans hated you both for it, reminding you each day how much you both fucked up.

But the day a man walked through that door, a loud-mouthed fool with no signs of shutting the hell up, grabbed Logan from his seat and told him he needed him. You were sitting in the back of the bar, watching Logan as you always had, but you ran to the red-clad man once he held his gun to his head. Logan just smiled and laughed, hoping he’d do it as if it would have mattered.

Right in front of you, Logan begged for death, seeing no real reason to be alive anymore. To say your heart ached was an understatement. The man fell back and as Deadpool was about to reach for him, you kicked his arm away from him, causing the gun to slip right out of his grasp.

“Look here, Angel face, you get mixed up with this and I’ll have to hurt you, I don’t wanna do-”

You kicked him again, this time in the face to shut him up, and he stumbled back, looking surprised, even through the mask. “How dare you! I am trying to save my world and I need that shithead’s help! I don’t have time to fight you.”

“Well you’re taking the ONE person I give a damn about, so you’re gonna have to go through me.”

“Look, whatever little love thing- AHH WHAT THE SHIT?!”

“I said leave him alone,” you warned.

Your power was coming forth as you held out both your hands, manipulating the iron in his bloodstream, slowly pulling it from his body through his skin. It hurt a LOT but it wouldn’t kill him if you didn’t yank it all out at once.

“Shit STOP it, okay?! Lemme explain!”

You lowered your hands and allowed his blood to remain in his body, he sighed and leaned back into the barstool. “Jesus fuck, woman, give a guy a chance to talk!”

“That’s all you been doing, asshole! Then tried to kidnap my… friend, and I’m not letting him go.”

Deadpool explained what was going on, introduced himself, and said why he needed your Logan from this world, so you took a step back and eyed him curiously. But as soon as this man now known as Deadpool lifted Logan up, your hand grabbed his wrist and you shot him a warning glance.

“Whatever you’re doing, I’m going with, and that’s not a question.”

“Ooh, and who the hell do you think you are? Rip off Magneto?” He asked with more excitement and playfulness than you expected.

“That doesn’t matter, but you’re taking my friend, and I’m not letting you leave without me if he’s going, too.”

The bartender glared at you and waved dismissively. “She’s just as pathetic as he is, too, so take her if you’re takin’ the other one,” he sneered.

You glared back at him and fought the urge to hurt him, but you looked up at Deadpool and continued to hold onto his arm. “Please, I’m not leaving him, and if you need an extra hand, so be it.”

“Well, whatever you say, princess, but try not to get in the way of Peanut’s big moment here, okay? We got a world to save.”

“Sounds fine by me,” you replied, just wanting to be near Logan no matter the cost.

You arrived in another world, or as Wade called it, a timeline, with Logan, but then immediately zapped into a place called the Void, which was already enough of a mindfuck for you to want to be far away from as you could, but you ended up in a small diner as Logan searched for food. Deadpool sat back and ate whatever he could find as you all took a moment to recuperate. You sat away from them both, suited up with your old clothes from your time in the mansion, it felt odd to be wearing it again, but you felt like you had a purpose again, and it seemed that Logan was doing fairly well despite the circumstances.

“Ya know, in my world, you were… you were well-regarded,” Deadpool said, trying to break the silence as per usual, and to try and ease the well-known angry Wolverine.

“Yeah, well, not in mine,” he said gruffly, taking a drink from the rubbing alcohol bottle in his hand.

You grimaced at the sight but kept your mouth shut, you were normally quiet so you wouldn’t ruin the moment by talking.

“Yeah, they don’t like me much,” Deadpool said with a more gentle tone.

“Ya don’t say.”

“I wanted to be something, ya know… Shit, I wanted to be an Avenger.”

“Fuck the Avengers.”

Wade laughed and sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t make the cut though. Same with the X-Men. My girlfriend left me-”

“You had a girlfriend?” Logan asked, shocked by this revelation.

Deadpool laughed. “Ooh yeah, Vanessa. Had a whole life planned. And I uh, well, I fucked that right up. But YOU, you were an X-Man, THE X-Man. The Wolverine. He’s a hero in my world…” Deadpool looked over at Logan, who sat away from the both of you and angrily stared off into the diner, trying not to listen, but Wade never would shut the hell up.

“Yeah well, he ain’t shit in mine.” Logan stood up, whipped the can of alcohol into the kitchen area of the diner, then walked outside.

Deadpool remained seated and looked over at you. “So what’s Wolvie’s problem, anyway?”

“That’s a long story, Wade, I don’t think I can tell it…” You said softly, looking away from his gaze as you watched Logan from the window.

“You love him or somethin’?” He asked, his voice soft, showing a small moment of vulnerability. “That why you came to babysit pissed off Honey Badger?”

This made your head turn to him and you looked almost perplexed, how had he known? Was it so obvious, written all over your face? Your cheeks felt warmer as you looked back through the window. “Doesn’t matter, not like he’d love me back. Just here to make sure he doesn’t die. And it’s not like I have shit to go back to, either.”

Wade regarded your answer and figured there wasn’t much to talk about after that, but he stood up and walked toward you, patted your shoulder, and ruffled your hair. “You’re too good for that guy, mutie, wait uh, what is your name?”

“Just call me Failure, everyone else does.”

Deadpool scoffed and shook his head. “Nahhh, you don’t look like one of those. Oh! What abouttttt Jamie Lee, suits you bein’ a babysitter and all-”

This made you scoff and you couldn’t help but shake your head. “Man, Logan is right, you never shut up, do you?” It was said more playfully, but you looked back at Logan, whose back was to you both.

“Not one god damned bit, now anyway Baby Lee, let’s go and get that grumpy little man for you-”

You groaned and stood up to shove Deadpool out of the way, then walked off to get to him before Wade did, but he was fast.

“Girlfriend material, comin’ through!” Wade called in a sing-song voice as you stomped toward Logan, who didn’t even turn to greet either of you. The merc walked up beside Logan and leaned on him playfully as you stood a few feet away to give him space. “Your girlfriend is worried about you, Peanut,” he hummed. “And not gonna lie, she puts up a hell of a fight, almost stopped me from yankin’ ya right into my little world-saving problem,” he said teasingly.

“She ain’t my girlfriend,” he grumbled and sulked off. Deadpool bound after him and you followed behind hesitantly.

“Oh I know, she told me as much, but I dunno Wolvie, the way she almost pulled my blood from my body to save your ass means there’s something there, trust me. Nothing hotter than a dedicated woman who would pull my blood out to save your sorry drunk ass, and if you don’t want her, hell, I hope you consider sharing~”

“Shut the fuck up.” Logan stalked off ahead of you and you both followed after.

The three of you somehow ended up finding a Deadpool variant, which ended up lending you his Honda Odessy, with which your Deadpool had an issue, but it ended up working out in the end as he trotted off, getting himself lost with yet another Deadpool variant: Dogpool. Logan had no intention of sticking around, so you followed obediently like you always did and figured you’d get to the borderlands and wait for Wade if need be.

The drive in the beginning was quiet and awkward as Logan drove, leaving you to stare out of the window in silence, wondering if you should have said anything to him. It occurred to you that you hadn’t gotten a moment alone with him since being whisked away here, and now that you’d been thinking about it, it was terrifying.

Logan had been looking over at you every so often as you stared out the window, your eyes seeing the same scenery as you leaned your head against the window. He opened his mouth to speak and stopped several times, and you could feel that he was trying to get your attention. You turned toward him and looked into his eyes, catching his stare, but he pulled away and looked back in the direction he drove in.

“What is it, Logan?” You asked him softly.

He cleared his throat and sighed. “I just wanna know why you’re here.”

This stung a little, thinking that he’d be better off without you, maybe? You huffed and didn’t meet his gaze. “I came because I felt I had to,” you replied shortly.

“That you had to?” He wanted you to clarify, of course, he did.

“Yeah, I had to, because I didn’t wanna lose the only person I had left, okay?” You said with a bite to your words. “I didn’t want to hurt more than I already do. And despite you not being able to see it or maybe not caring, you’re all I have left, Logan.”

Logan’s jaw clenched as he listened to you, knowing you were right, you were both hurting and he had shoved your feelings aside to wallow in his own self-pity. He turned back toward the road, his hands gripping the wheel tight as he thought about it, about how you had been there for him all this time, despite the hurt and anger he felt and pushed onto you, there you were, never letting him down when he needed you. Even when he didn’t ask you for a single thing, you were always there, and looking back on it now, it fucking hurt.

Someone so selfless like you… stuck with someone like him. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself.

“You’re not,” you responded back immediately, always there to combat his self-depreciation. You really were an angel.

“I am, wanna know why? Because I’m too fucking stupid to see that since day one, you were there, through all of it, through all my bullshit that I put you through… Even before that day…you were there Wade said something at that diner about you almost killing him just because he threatened to take me, and you insisted on going with me despite not knowing what the fuck we were getting ourselves into.”

You shifted in your seat uneasily, wondering what point he was trying to make. “It was nothing-”

“Don’t say that, you can’t just say that after everything you’ve done for me? Why, Star?”

Star, the nickname he’d given you on your first day in the mansion, knowing very well how to tug at your heartstrings. You sighed as you turned toward him, wondering if now was the time, and there would never be a good time, you figured. “Logan, I don’t-”

“Don’t bullshit me,” he warned with that look, the look you knew too well when he was trying to be intimidating. “I wanna hear it, why are you here?”

“Because I fucking love you, okay?! Despite you loving Jean, loving a woman who didn’t love you back, loving someone so deeply, and having to take her away from you, from your friend Scott. It hurt you so much and you would have never looked at me twice anyway. But I stuck around because you were hurting and I cared, you were so kind to me and helped me even though I know you didn’t want to. You did it anyway. And I grew to love you.

Then Jean was gone, and maybe I had a shot, but even then I was scared. Then the mansion… everyone died… and you fell further into yourself, Logan. You were so deep into your hurt that I was afraid you’d never come back. And yet, I stayed, what else would I do? Abandon you? Never, I’d hate myself for it. I tortured myself for years for you and I don’t even know why!”

The silence in the Honda only grew beside the gentle sounds of your sniffles, and you tried your best to cover those sounds as well as you stared out the window, wishing he'd just drive as fast as he could so you'd reach your destination and not have to continue this conversation. But to your dismay, the car skidded to a halt, and you both almost flew forward. You spun to look at him, to scold him for driving so carelessly, but the face he gave you was too heartbreaking.

You hadn’t realized the loud tone in which you spoke, the tears that spilled down your face, or the way Logan was looking at you as if he could have walked off a cliff and would have been better for it.

Logan sighed and shook his head, trying to find the words, only to stumble over them and remain awkwardly silent. His mouth opened to speak only to close, he was getting nowhere. “Why?” He finally asked.

“Why what?” you asked with a sigh.

“You just couldn’t love someone who wasn’t a total fuck up, could you? Couldn’t have chosen better for yourself,” he grumbled as he leaned back in the seat, his hands still gripping the steering wheel.

He looked away and swallowed hard. “Why me?” He asked. “There ain’t shit to love about me, kid, never was.”

“Yet you loved Jean, your love was unwavering despite her loving Scott,” you pointed out. “What does it matter why or who? My heart was yours and that’s that, Logan.”

“I wish I knew why I’d chosen you, but I couldn’t stop it, I tried. So many people saw it, you know, the way I looked at you. They all warned me, they told me not to even think about it. And stupid me, I waited for you! I was stupid enough to think you would realize that she wasn’t going to give you what you wanted and maybe, just maybe… I could.”

He sighed again, not daring to look at you right now so he could think, and the pain within him was welling up faster than ever. He ached for you, for the chances you could’ve had in life, but instead you chose him, the fucking Wolverine. He sat in complete silence, leaving you to sit there, lost in your own thoughts.

“I’m sorry, forget I said any of this, Logan, I shouldn’t have come here… I’m.. Forget it.” You unclicked your seatbelt and slid from it, then opened the door, which made Logan being to panic.

He’d sit idly by for too long, this complicated thing you had for him, the complicated mess he shared with Jean… But she wasn’t here anymore, you were, and you always had been. That meant something to him despite him not wanting to admit that. “Star, wait,” he said as he followed you from the car, whipping around to the other side to grab your arm.

You spun to look at him, your eyes red and bloodshot from the crying, and it had been ages since he truly looked at you. He grumbled at the sight of you, how truly tired you looked, and having to see how you looked at him stung. You still had that admiration, very little of it now, but it was there, along with exhaustion and hopelessness. You were a bundle of emotions and he felt it was all his fault.

“Shit, I… I wish it wasn’t me you cared about, Star, you didn’t deserve any of this shit.”

“And neither did you, Logan,” you replied softly, staring at him with such vulnerability, giving him a soft smile. Your voice was so laced with pain that it almost made the man flinch.

“You’re so damn stubborn,” he growled in annoyance.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Wonder where I get that from,” I said with a small hint of playfulness. It was a vicious cycle of loving him, hating him, forgiving him. You knew it was wrong and toxic, but you never thought twice about it.

“I can guess,” he mumbled with a sliver of that old sarcastic Logan shining through. “Listen, I’m… I’m sorry for all the shit I put you through, even the shit I didn’t know about,” he said, which was amazing to hear an apology come from him. “You love a broken old man who couldn’t even be there for his people, his friends, and you’re still here, you’re either just as stupid as I am or…”

“Or hopelessly in love with you,” you said softly, staring at him with tears threatening to fall again.

Logan clenched his jaw, the gruff badass mask he wore slipping from him, revealing a hint of the same vulnerability you showed him. “You really think I deserve that after all that’s happened? How I dragged you down with me because of my fuck up? I’m not a good man.”

“I don’t care what you think you deserve, you do deserve happiness. Maybe if I wasn’t such a scared child all those years ago, you would have realized it sooner and none of this would have happened,” you explained. “You’ve been through shit not many would live through, and you didn’t deserve any of it, but you deserve to have someone love you without repercussions, without worry.”

Logan couldn’t help but flinch at your impassioned words, the sincerity and conviction in your voice was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to argue, to protest, but there was a small part of him that knew you were right; that he had been through hell and back, and just maybe he did deserve something better than he thought.

Everyone saw him as an animal, the Wolverine, and he made sure to keep that reputation so no one could ever hurt him. But hurting you wasn’t what he wanted. You were here saying all of this to him, but no matter what happened, there would always be that little voice playing in the back of his mind telling him that someone like him could never have that life or that love.

You finally stepped toward him, ignoring the screaming in your mind as you pushed past that hesitancy, staring into his eyes as he continued to wear that scowl. But the closer you got, the more his features softened. “What you’ve been through Logan, it doesn’t define you, but what you’ve been through has driven you to become the man you are. We all have to live with mistakes we’ve made, and I’m tired of running from the good things, aren’t you?”

He looked down at you and clenched his jaw, staring into your eyes as he searched for anything to say to push you away, to show you he wasn’t deserving of this, but he fell short and remained silent.

Your hand reached out and didn’t hesitate this time as you placed it on his arm, leaning closer toward him as you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to reach, but you hadn’t expected Logan to greet you halfway. The fear in his eyes spoke volumes but so did his actions, and you couldn’t help but smile as your lips finally met.

The dreams you had of this day were nothing in comparison to the real dead, feeling his facial hair tickle your skin as you pulled him flush against you, your arms wrapped around his neck while your desperation and passion burst through. It started out gentle and sweet, but it grew hungrier while his large arms finally wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him effortlessly. When he pulled away, panting and breathless, you could see the inner turmoil he struggled with, but you’d be there to ground him. His eyes are hooded and glazed over with desire, and fear, but he can’t help but grin at the sight of you smiling up at him.

“You sure you ain’t makin’ a mistake?” He asked.

You just scoffed and pushed him against the car, surprising him with the amount of force you used. “I’ve thought of nothing but you for so long, Logan, I think we’re beyond making mistakes,” you explained as you pulled him back into a kiss. He was like putty in your hands the more you touched him through the outfit, always thinking he looked damn good in yellow and blue.

Logan couldn’t hide the growing want he felt as he could feel your hands slowly feeling everywhere, but he needed to hold back or else he wasn’t sure what would happen. “You’re drivin’ me to a point I might lose control,” he pointed out, his breath becoming heavier with each finger you skated across his arms.

“As if I don’t know the consequences,” you laughed and reached up to grab the collar of his suit, pulling him down further against your lips. “But you are wearing a bit too much right now for my taste, Logan,” you whispered, your nose gently touching his.

He was about to question you as to why you were wanting to do this now, but what kind of asshole would he be to push you away again, especially now that you both had this time to yourselves. Instead of pushing this away, he pushed you away from him and threw the back door to the Honda open, ushering you to remove your suit. Without question, you did as he asked and began to strip, watching the way he looked at you as you did so, but you made sure not to take up too much time. If you all made it out of here alive, maybe you could both take things slow for another round…

“Damn,” Logan breathed as he stared at you while you threw your suit off into the front seat, but you were greeted with Logan’s body pushing against yours as you lay pinned beneath him, halfway hanging out of the car. He saw the underwear you had on and his claws immediately came out with a sharp whoosh, but you placed your hand on his arm and shook your head.

“I need to wear these until we get the hell out of here. When we get back, you can shred all the ones I have,” you promised with a grin, and his claws immediately retracted.

“Good point, but I’ll hold you to that promise,” he warned as his large hands slid up and cupped your breasts through your bra, his grip rough and possessive as he left your body on fire wherever he touched.

Your heart was pounding as you finally had what you’d always dreamed of, and the sounds that spilled from your lips were melodious to the mutant, he wanted to hear you get louder, so he made sure to work through his unease and make sure you were crying out his name for all to hear in the Void. You bucked your hips upward as his fingers slipped under the hem of your panties, yanking them down without a second thought, and you released a strangled cry once his knuckle gently slid against your clit. You bit your lip, wanting to withhold anything, for now, not wanting Logan to know just how easy it would be to get you to crumble. Any touch he’d graced you with almost made your body tense, feeling lost in anything he’d give you. Even if he were to allow his hands to roam your body without fucking you, you’d probably come just like that.

Logan picked up on this, smelling your arousal as you lay beneath him, his grip tightening on your hips as he stared at your face, already blissed out and wanton with need. “Fuck, you’re killin’ me, here,” he growled as he lowered his mouth to your belly, kissing it to try and curb the absolute feral need that bubbled within him. The simplest kiss and you moaned out his name, your hips bucking involuntarily at his touch. “Yeah, that’s it, fuckin’ say my name,” he commanded as he shifted above you, feeling his length pushing uncomfortably against his suit. “Fuck.”

He stepped back from you, releasing your body as you groaned from the lack of his touch, but your head snapped up to watch as he began to remove his suit this time. Carefully each piece came off, still wanting to keep the reminder of who he was before everything nice and neat, piling them into the front seat with yours. Logan fished himself from his underwear, revealing what you always thought would be impressive to be much more than that. His head dripped with pre-come as he stepped closer, and all you wanted was for him to be buried inside of you.

You lick your lips as your mouth waters for him, but now isn’t the time to explore, you need him inside of you before anything else. “Logan, please,” you begged.

“Please what, sweetheart?” His voice was low, husky, dripping with animalistic lust. “You need to use your words.”

You made a face up at him, knowing he was enjoying teasing you like this, now knowing the hold he had on you as you stared up at him. “Logan, c’mon, I need you,” you whined. “Need to feel you so badly…” You pawed at his arms as he crawled on top of you, his snarky grin never once leaving his face.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered low, and it left you in a puddle after hearing that. He smelled the strong scent of desire on you, it was impossible not to, so to get you prepped, he slid two large fingers inside of you, spreading your slick against your folds as you bucked your hips again, wanting more. With each pump of his fingers, your muscles tensed, your walls clenched with need around them as his pace was unwavering to get you ready to take him.

You couldn’t control the shake that spread in your limbs or the desire that laced the sound of your moans, but you knew that you didn’t want to release yourself on his fingers, as pleasurable as it sounded. You pulled away from his mouth, leaning your forehead on his as you tried to speak. “Logan, please,” you begged again, knowing he was working you up. “I need you inside of me.”

This made a large smirk grow across his face as he slid his fingers out of you, watching as your body twitched from the loss, and he slid those soaked fingers into his mouth. Seeing him cleaning the coat of slick with his tongue was more erotic than you could have imagined, knowing all of the dirty thoughts you had about Logan over the time you’d known and wanted him could never live up to the real thing. His hands ran up your legs, skating across your calves as he yanked your body toward him with a swift pull, his eyes taking in the sight of your body beneath his, smiling when he saw your inner thighs completely dripping with need as his nostrils flared.

“I’m gonna enjoy this…” he mumbled.

“Not as much as I will,” you said seriously, no playfulness in your tone, but a solid truth.

Your legs spread for him without question as his hands assisted you, palms on your knees as he spread you far so he could slot himself between you, pushing his throbbing cock against your folds, smiling wide as you gasped and pushed yourself into him, allowing him to coat himself with your need. You no longer had to pretend your fingers were his, spreading you open as he was about to do, the real thing right above you as he guided himself inside. Logan didn’t give you a chance to adjust and instead, he sinks himself deep into your cunt with a hard thrust, knowing he’d get those pretty sounds out of you.

He was right. You cried out his name as your hands grabbed at his arms, trying to cling to something to keep you grounded. “Holy shit,” you said through gritted teeth, already shaking from the sheer force.

The pace he was was hard and steady, not going too quick to make sure you both got what you wanted from this as his force rocked the car back and forth. Your cries and moans only fed his ego, wanting to give you exactly what you’d been dreaming of, although he figured getting fucked in the back of a car wasn’t exactly your first choice, he wouldn’t deny that it was the best time they’d get in case something did go wrong. One hand was beside your head, holding himself up while the other was gripping hard at the front seat, his fingers digging into the material as he was relentlessly pounding into you.

Your head rolls to the side, wanting to press your lips anywhere against his skin as you kiss his arm over and over, clinging to him while his entire body feels as if it surrounded you. You felt safe in this moment while he split you open, the sting of him stretching you for the first time while the coiling pleasure built within your stomach so quickly. You didn’t notice the shiver your kisses sent up Logan’s spine, but he made sure you knew how you were affecting him.

“You’re so damn tight,” he praised, lowering his mouth to yours for a sloppy, hungry kiss.

You took his bottom lip between your teeth and teased him, wrapped your legs around him tighter as you arched your back, your body pressing flush against his as you moaned against his lips. The head of his cock is pushing so deep inside of you, bruising that soft spot to oblivion as your head falls back from the kiss, trying to use your words to the best of your abilities.

“Logan, I-I’m gonna come,” you whined as you tried your best to hold onto him, your mind going blank as you could only focus on the building pleasure and the tight wound feeling you felt in your belly.

“Come then, sweetheart,” he instructed as he pressed his chest against yours, allowing his body to feel closer to you while he leaned his head against your shoulder, taking in your scent. “Need you to show me what I’ve been missin’ out on,” he said with a smirk.

Your lips peppered his shoulder with kisses as he still mercilessly pounded into you, but the sudden feeling of your teeth sinking into his skin caused the man to let out an feral growl beside your ear as his pace was frantic and unrelenting. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders as you bit down hard as your cunt clenched around his pulsing cock, pulling him as deep as he could manage while you milked him as you came.

Logan let out another growl, his breath heavy as he mumbled a string of curses beside your ear while his claws sprang out at the same time he’d come inside of you, piercing the back and the front seat of the Honda, one set incredibly close to your head, but you didn’t flinch whatsoever. You were so wrapped up in this, in him, and your high that he allowed you to ride that nothing else in the world mattered. He retracted his claws again as he sat back, kneeling on one leg as the other hung out of the car, and all he could do was stare down at you, his eyes raking over your figure as your chest rose and sank heavily, the little bruising he left across your skin. He matched the smile that you wore, and he almost felt slightly timid under the gaze you shot him, one so filled with adoration and love, feelings he didn’t deserve from someone like you.

He reluctantly pulled from you, getting one more sweet sound from your lips as he stuffed himself back into his underwear, then sat in the backseat and pulled your legs onto his lap. “I hope that was worth the wait,” he mumbled softly as he gently placed his hand on your thigh, feeling the pads of his fingertips glide against the softness.

“Even better, you’ve exceeded expectations,” you said softly followed by a small laugh, your arm placed over your head as you looked up at him. “I hope this means you’ll consider my offer from earlier, you know, when we get back.”

He let out a low sigh and stared at you, trying to read your expression. “You still think this ain’t a mistake?” He asked you, his voice low and deep with a hint of hope. He was afraid to push this any further in case you came to your senses and wanted something better for yourself.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as you pushed yourself up, smiling wide at the man who had your heart for years, your palm resting gently against his cheek. “I meant every word I said today, Logan, and if you still need convincing, I’ll remind you every damn day that I’m not going anywhere. I love you.” You pushed yourself up, nuzzling your face against the crook of his neck, showing him that hint of softness that he deeply craved.

He sighed as he slipped an arm around you, holding your naked form against him as he relaxed beneath your touch. “Then I guess I have a lot of time to make up for,” he said with a smirk.

You nodded and shot him a similar smile. “Guess you do.”

“Let me start right now,” he purred against your hair, taking in your scent as he pushed you back against the seat, hovering his body above yours. “I’m not wantin’ to stop just yet.”

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b1rds3ye · 1 year ago

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hi!! this is my first time doing a request so idk if I'm doing this right haha but uh, I was wondering if you could do like. yknow the masked one you made for the 141 (I can't remember the name rn��)? I thought of like, a sequel idea. like, what if during combat an enemy manages to take reader's mask, and so reader panics and like, rips the enemies throat out with their teeth (or if that's too violent, just goes basically rabid on them lmao) and how they would react?? if this is too violent or specific dw you don't have to!! anyways, I love your content it's totally awesome ur writing is amazing! have a good day!!

YES I LOVE THE BADASSERY AND THE UNHINGEDNESS!! If I'm your first request I'm so flattered anon pls do feel free to drop by again <333 Also just going to do general rabidness because ngl the throat thing sounds like an infection speedrun and we want our masked reader to stay nice and healthy <333

Word Count: 1.2 (it got a little long WHOOPS)

Warning: Canon typical violence, reader does get a lil sadistic and unhinged <333

Beyond Task Force 141 and Laswell, many - if not all - allied soldiers wondered about what lay under your mask. Obscuring even the eyes, your visage was more unreadable than Ghost's. Larger than life, a soldier among men.

There was a running joke that there was just nothing under your mask, perhaps an eldritch horror of sorts. You let the new recruits entertain the thought, it kept morale up as they conjured more myths of you. They said that no one has seen you without your mask. They were partially right.

It simply was that no one lived to tell the tale.

You were never one for close combat, but fighting terrorists was never smooth sailing. The chaos of battle had all of the 141 separated against the tight streets of Las Almas. How uncanny that you could not see your allies but hear their gunfire. Running out of ammo, you couldn't lament at your misfortune as a shoulder pummeling into your chest, sending you to the ground and the air out of your lungs. Head bashing against the floor you groaned as you furiously clawed up to whatever heavy weight was crushing your body. You were starting to make up the figure of a man hovering over you through the blurry haze of a concussion that filled your sight. The distant static of Price's voice through the radio, probably asking where the hell were you but you had more pressing issues at hand.

Through your struggle and flailing limbs you managed to wring the enemy's pistol off of them with a painful twist of their wrist. And they retaliated tenfold, a large sweaty hand reaching down and pressing your head back against the ground. Your adrenaline makes you writhe further, he was going to suffocate you, or worse, poison you with how fucking awful his hand smelt as the stink of burning gunpowder replaced any of your oxygen. But no, he committed a far worse crime.

A singular pull and the grating tear of fabric as your mask is pulled off of your face.

A heavy moment where your enemy looks down at you and his gaze is not like before. It's clear, it's deep. It is not looking at your facade but at you and you are no longer a soldier. You are merely a human, so fragile, so weak. One that is on the verge of death in a foreign land surrounded by bodies of fallen comrades and enemies alike. One whose mythos is all but lost at the victorious and leering smirk of an enemy as they take in your face.

That simply won't do.

Pulling your knee up to create space between you and the man, you pull out your tactical knife from your waist and drive it into his torso. His smile falls only to land at settle on yours below him, just like his blood that trickles as forbidden crimson down your hands and seeps into your uniform. It's disgustingly warm. He grows heavier as he loses all control over his body and you heave to throw his figure off to the side. You stab him once again for good measure. And then again. And again. Quick, short jabs down with a sharpened blade that cuts through uniform, flesh and bone alike. You did not count how many times you drove your blade down, numbers were too complex when your mind was running faster than any comprehensible speed. There was only one goal. To make sure no one knows what happened.

A harsh grip on the shoulder yanks you back up and you swipe with your armed limb to cut your new assailant's neck but they were onto you. Catching your arm, they pull it up as they hold onto your shoulder once again with a tightening grip that digs into your uniform. But they do nothing more, no matter how much you thrash and kick.

"Wake up, Sergeant," your opponent seethes and that voice makes you still, a buoy that floats across through your rage. Deep and grounding and your captain's.

You nearly stumble back but Price catches you before you crumple to the ground in exhaustion. The adrenaline was escaping your body leaving you with barely the energy to stay upright. Your head lolls back for a second before you bring it to the side to look at your direct superior, the remnants of a concussion making your vision blurry.

"You broken?" he asks.

"Negative, sir,” you respond immediately but he looks a little doubtful, a singular eyebrow raised as he inspects you. Not your body, but your face. The dilated pupils and the taut muscles told more than any wound.

"Can't say the same about your wee friend over there," Soap whistles as he tilts his head to behind you. “Christ, you did a number on him.”

You dare turn to look over your shoulder but Ghost already situated himself in front of the body. But between his feet you could already make out the indistinguishable mass of tattered fabric and discoloured flesh. Fresh blood filled the rivets between the cobblestones, the remnants of the body inching its way closer to you-

"Was it the mask?" Simon brings your attention back to him. You nod dumbly. He only dips his head in what you can only describe as understanding as he folds his arms, fortifying his stance in front of the mess you made. You weren’t going to see your handiwork, he was too kind to ever let you.

John drops his hands down to his sides as Gaz approaches you with your mask.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Kyle offers you a sympathetic smile.

"Learnt that the first day I saw 'em on duty," Johnny retorts and you instinctively smile as you take your mask from Kyle. The hardened plaster of your mask had cracked, the fabric that hugged your neck had become torn but it'll do for the remainder of the mission. Slipping the mask back on, Simon offers a nod of approval while Johnny tugged at the fabric for a few finishing touches.

Ultimately the mission was successful. The task force returns to base and although none of the boys mentioned the carnage you left, there are still whispers of it on base. You had hurried to debrief and get your mask fixed but it seemed some privates caught sight of you and that was enough to spark rumours. Your mask had gotten so fractured that a shard was left back in the streets of Las Almas and revealed one of your eyes to the rest of the world. Such a small organ but so vivid. The privates saw, and more was added to the myth that was you. There was now no question about what was under the mask. No lovecraftian horror or empty space, no monster beyond comprehension. No, what was under your mask was terrifyingly human.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #anon mail ❤️#/*avery checks the mailbox*/#/*avery actually writes*/#/*cod x masked reader*/

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green-alien-turdz · 8 months ago

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do u have any hcs for what the m4 would look like in middle school? 👀👀👀

The same, just with that awful middle school flare.

Headcanon time tho bcuz I'm insane n need to explain the shit happenin here (tw for sh n sewerslide attempts. but if you follow my bs this is nothin new)

Cartman: Bro was at PEAK loudmouth n fuck everyone shit, but at this point all mfs were pretty sick of it n he got into fights on the daily. Not to say he wasn't askin for it, he actually got a big kick outta pissin people off (nothin new as we know). He was pretty much doin this bcuz he didn't really care n couldn't process a lot of shit he was feelin so he would just take it out on everyone else.

Kenny: Overworked, stressed, n not fuckin blessed. If he wasn't at school, he'd be at city wok, which he was grateful for the cash, but it took a toll on him n his schooling. He was just tryin to take care of him n Karen as he watched Kevin just get worse n worse with the people he was hangin around. Conflict at home had him stressin big time. Catch them z's whenever the fuck he could.

Kyle: Bro almost never changes appearance wise due to insecurities. The scratches on his face are from a meltdown he had where he lost complete control of his actions n started hittin n clawin at himself (managed to convince his parents it happened in his sleep bcuz no one was home when the breakdown happened). This was a rather common thing to happen, seein as normal teenage horomones, mental illness, n eds are like the worst fuckin combo.

Stan: Legit the worst time of his life, both home n mentally. Around this time where he'd get super drunk n high to try n numb out everythin, but that would only start more shit of course. He felt completely caged in n stuck in life n in this cycle of bs. One night he spiraled pretty hard n impulsively tried to hang himself with an old belt. He pretty quickly freaked out n managed to get somethin under him so he could get back out. Uhh n misc. red hair bcuz he had started dyin his hair lots of colours (but usually red) for Crimson Dawn around this time.

#asks #sp fanart #south park #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #my art #see i don't just project onto kyle i do it to ALL of them as well bcuz i have no life

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enhafilthandfiction · 1 year ago

Text

Flushed cheeks - Yang Jungwon

A/N : Hi, so I had a lot of similar asks so I decided to combine them into 1 fic. I hope you enjoy it! reminder that I am accepting emoji anons and if anyone wants to be moots, I'll never reject anyone :)) Thankyou for all of the love y'all are showing to my posts, I appreciate you all! <333

Pairing : Bf!Jungwon X Fem!Reader

Warnings : Kissing, making out, dry humping, thigh riding, boner, teasing, cumming in pants. Jw is kinda subby, reader is kinda dom.

Word Count : 786 Words

Masterlist

You grinded your hips harder into him as your boyfriend moaned into your mouth, a simple kiss had became a hot, intense make out session.

His cheeks were a crimson red, just like his swollen lips, his hair was messy due to you tangling your hands in it, and his chest rising and falling due to his heavy breathing.

He was completely at your mercy. Cute.

You started off by telling him you wanted to ride his thigh, which he agreed to with a little nod and flushed cheeks. You started off by kissing him, just to calm down his nerves but he just couldn't get enough of your lips.

With your lips connected, he sat on the couch, pulling you with him as you started grinding on his thigh. You were still in your underwear, not bothering to take them off.

With every movement of your clothed cunt on his thigh, the wetter you became, and in his case, the tighter his pants became. He couldn't stop moaning, especially when he noticed the wet patch on your underwear.

You took advantage of his moaning, slipping your tongue into his opened mouth. He grabbed your hips, desperately moving your hips quicker on his thighs.

"Fuck Won, you're so hard baby" you pointed out, making him close his eyes in embarrassment.

"I know, I'm sorry" he looks down in shame, not being able to look at you in the eyes.

"Sorry for what baby? Getting an erection? That's so hot" you reassure, leaning down to kiss his neck, making him involuntary buck his hips up into nothing.

"P-please Y/n, it hurts" he whines, his grip on your hips tightening. You decided to tease him just a little more, taking your sweet time kissing his neck and gently biting the flesh beneath his ears, making him go crazy.

At this point there were almost tears pricking his eyes, he felt too helpless beneath you, you could only control his pleasure and you were doing nothing to help him.

He took matters into his own hands, lifting you with strong hands so that you were straddling him, and not just his thigh. You wrapped your hands around his neck and smirked.

"You're that desperate huh?" you pout falsely at him, running a hand in his hair and ruffling it. "You're adorable, sweetie" you coo, riling him up.

He slides you forward and back on his lap, making you grind on him. Every time you grind against his bulge, he lets out a little whimper, and his eyebrows furrow in pleasure.

"There we go, you like that?" you ask him, grinding harder against him, making his hips twitch.

"Y-yeah, feels good" he lets out, strangled.

You would rub your clothed cunt against his bulge but then stop your movements just to kiss him and his neck, making him whine and beg for you to move again. He loved when you dry humped (?) him, for him it felt like sex, but clothed. Clothed sex.

With every drag of your soaked panties along his clothed hard dick, the closer he got. "F-fuck, y/n, please, p-please" at this point he barely knew what he was saying, lost in the pleasure, chasing his high.

With his eyes halfway open, he could see you smirk at him, before you leaned in to kiss him, this time your hips kept moving, and so did his.

He bucked up into you, afraid of losing the contact, grinding back up into your clothed pussy. He was so, so close.

"I'm gon-gonna cum!" he warns quickly, throwing his head back and shutting his eyes when you approved. He let out a loud moan, being too lost in pleasure to care.

That's until he felt how wet his pants were when he actually realised that he came in his pants. Sure, he knew he never took them off, but for a second he forgot about the fact that he was literally gonna cum with his clothes still on.

His face turned red, including his ears as he looked down at the mess he made. You noticed and cupped his face, making him look at you. "You're so cute Wonnie, look at what you did" your hand palmed his wet crotch to emphasize, making him whimper in overstimulation. "It's okay baby, no need to be embarrassed" you reassure, watching as he visibly relaxes his stiff figure.

"Y-you didn't cum?" he asks, pouting "I could-"

"No baby, it's fine, you don't have to, I enjoyed it anyway" you explain, caressing his hair. You lean in and kiss his pout away, smiling into the kiss.

He sighs "I love you Y/n"

"Love you too Wonnie" you reply, pinching his cheeks.

Hellooo, Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions for what I should do when I hit 1k followers, please send me a request (I need ideas lmao) thanks. Have a good day/night and remember that ily <3333

If you enjoyed this post, you can support this blog by tipping me here! Anything is genuinely appreciated :)

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fuctacles · 4 months ago

Text

The sound of a promise

For @stevieweek Day 6: Queer culture | M | 1997 | Steddie | some gender dysphoria (voice), cat lady stevie universe sequel, transfem Steve, age gap, pre-relationship, spice&fluff Stevie Week: Day 1 | Day 2 (art) | Day 3 (art) | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

!We dive straight into smut but it's not very descriptive!

Steph makes a few aborted sounds in her throat before slapping her hand against her mouth while Eddie pounds into her. Her muffled sounds make him look up and notice that she's silencing herself and his hips still.

She blinks up at him, confused at his sudden stillness.

"Does it not feel good?" he asks with a slight pout to his lips.

She shakes her head immediately.

"It does," she croaks out before slapping the hand back over her mouth. Eddie frowns.

"Then I want to hear it. Please."

She shakes her head again, but it's small and hesitant this time. She spreads her fingers, not ready to take the hand away, but wanting to be heard.

"I can't control my voice, you know..." She makes a vague gesture to her mouth, her neck, and the vocal cords beneath. "Like this. There's only so much estrogen can do."

Eddie's heart breaks for her. He sits back, most of him slipping out, and caresses her thigh.

"What do you mean?"

She sighs, but the soft touch on her skin helps her calm down and gather her thoughts.

"Hormones don't just... change my voice. They kind of help expand my vocal range so that I can hit the higher notes, and sound the way I do every day. But I can still use the lower notes, and sometimes they just... slip out." She winces.

"Stevie." She looks up at him. "Stephanie, Steph." Eddie leans forward again, and she presses her lips together when his dick moves inside her too. "You're a woman, and your voice won't change that, not to me. I want to know I make you feel good. I want to hear it's so good you can forget yourself, and let loose. I want you to trust me that it won't change how I see you."

Despite his words and the blush on her cheeks, she doesn't seem convinced. So he adds, mercilessly:

"Please."

Stephanie nods and lets him take her hand away from her face. He presses his lips to her palm, watching her cheeks redden further.

"Thank you."

Wayne has taught him to be polite and respectful to women but he never knew such simple words would make someone squirm under him like that. It makes him want to bring her flowers and kiss her goodnight, knowing she'll eat it up and turn these beautiful shades of pink and crimson just for him.

He presses her hand to the mattress and resumes his movements. Slow at first, because his dick lost the plot for a second, but as soon as he felt himself get into full hardness again, he braced himself with the intent to bruise.

"Let me hear you," he said, slamming into the woman beneath him.

She whimpered, at first, and Eddie let her ease into it, observing her slowly part her lips and let the music flow. The breathy little ohs and ahs, the whines that follow, and finally, when he hit the right spot, a choked-off moan.

"Like that," he praised immediately. "Shit, you sound so hot."

And when she looked into his eyes, moaning and whining unashamedly, her self-consciousness gone, Eddie lost it.

He dove down to bite into her mouth and she accepted it happily, sharing her moans, the high ones, and the low ones, directly into him. With her free arm, she grasped his shoulder, trying to pull him even closer, and he let go of her other hand so they could wrap around each other, pressing tight until their bones crushed, only their mouths and hips allowed to move freely.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Eddie chanted into the corner of her mouth. "Steph."

"Eddie. I'm gonna—"

It's all the warning he gets before her heels dig into his back to pull him impossibly deeper and she comes. Her blunt nails digging into his skin are the last straw for him.

"Fuck!" he grits out, spilling into the condom, and his thrusts finally weaken, turning into a shallow sway until he stills, breathing heavily against her neck, where he presses his mouth because not touching her wherever he can right now would be torture. Slowly, as he regains control over his muscles, he starts pressing light kisses there.

"You were perfect. So beautiful. So hot. And you sound divine."

Despite his body's protests, he pushes himself up, because he needs to look her in the eyes.

"So good I could record you and take you with me to Indy, for the lonely nights."

"Oh my god, stop." She turns her head away, face twisting with embarrassment. But Eddie presses on.

"Those little moans you make, the ohs," he tries to imitate the breathy sounds she made and watches her cheeks bloom. "The ahs. Perfect. Thank you for letting me hear them."

"Uh, sure," she offers.

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"You sound like you don't believe me."

All she can give him to that is a shrug. So he moves his hips, making her hiss from how sensitive she is, and pulls out from her. He can feel her eyes following as he gets up to dispose of the condom and goes for the door, closed against the four-legged intruders.

"Towel? Shower?" he asks, but she shakes her head, lifting herself on her hands to point towards the window.

"Just throw me this one. It's going into the laundry anyway."

Eddie grabs the towel, smelling faintly of hair conditioner, off the radiator. Instead of handing it over though, he sits on top of Stephanie's thighs to wipe the cum off her belly himself.

"Such a gentleman," she comments, with amusement in her tone.

"Well, I try to treat a lady how she deserves to be treated." He gives her his winning smile, the one he uses to charm his way out of trouble and get an extra cookie at the cafeteria. It must be working, because she finally softens, the lines on her forehead smoothing out as her expression opens up like she's starting to believe his words.

"You saw my... you know."

"Sure did." Eddie nods with a cheeky grin. "And she's pretty like the rest of you." He grabs her dick to clean thoroughly around it and wipes gently at the tip to make his point. Steph's breath hitches at the way he addresses her genitals.

"And you heard my voice."

"I hear It all the time," he points out, nudging her knees up to gently wipe the lube from around her rim.

"Yeah, but not like this," she says, lowering her voice on purpose. Her eyes are piercing and testing, and Eddie looks up to meet them.

"I'm a musician, I love a woman with a wide vocal range." He sits up though, his smile wilting. "Do you want to scare me off? Because it's not working, but if you want me to leave, just tell me," he says with a frown. He's been doing his best to be gentle and accommodating. True, he's not dealt with trans people before, but he thought he was doing well. "If I crossed a line somewhere, or did something wrong—"

"No, no, you're good," she cuts him off with a furious shake of her head. "I think I just need a moment."

Eddie gives her a puzzled look. He folds the towel in his hands nervously.

"Okay. Do you want me to leave, or..."

"No, just come here."

Instead of being shunned out of her flat, he's being pulled down, chest against chest. He quickly gets the memo and straightens his legs until he's laying like a blanket on top of her, arms bent awkwardly to cradle her shoulders, head in the crook of her neck.

Stephanie tries to be quiet, but eventually, she can't hold back the wet sniffle that alarms Eddie.

"Shit, are you crying?" He tries to look up, but she presses his head back into her neck so he can't move.

"Shut up," she says, but doesn't sound angry. So he settles back down, tries to wrap his arms around her to provide the comfort she clearly needs, and lets her feel whatever she's feeling, fingers gently tracing her skin.

When he can feel her breath and heartbeat settle down, he asks without looking up:

"Were these good tears?"

She snorts.

"Of course they were, idiot."

He huffs out an amused breath against her neck, making her shoulder jump against the ticklish feeling.

"I haven't been treated this nice in a long while. It's a lot."

Eddie hums against her skin. He doesn't have the words to help, but he understands the feeling so he hugs her tighter against him.

"I get it," is all he can offer. It's like the first time Wayne had praised him after years of living with his parents. He bawled his eyes out back then, not understanding why. "I'll treat you nice every time, I can't imagine doing it any other way."

Her breath quickens again.

"See?" she asks wetly, almost accusingly. "And now you're promising me more. You can't do that."

"Why not?" Eddie frowns. But he's still not allowed to look up.

"You go to college. You don't even live here."

"I live here sometimes," he corrects. "And I have a feeling I'll be visiting more often now."

She huffs but doesn't say anything.

"What? Long distance doesn't work for you?" he half-jokes.

"You make it sound like it's a relationship," she says and Eddie cannot decipher her tone. She sounds accusatory, hurt, and annoyed all at once.

He finally breaks from her grasp but gives her the comfort of no eye contact. Just settles more comfortably against her collarbone, not crushing her to the bed anymore. He throws his leg and arm over her, wrapping Steph in a comforting touch she so clearly lacks.

"It could be," he says.

She doesn't say anything at first, but he senses another scoff on the tip of her tongue.

"Could it?" she counters eventually. Eddie hums.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it?"

"I'm older than you."

This time it's Eddie who scoffs.

"You're beautiful and funny and have only one too many cats. I think you're fine. And if you have like, a deadly old-lady disease you haven't told me about, that's all the more reason to spend the time you have left being properly fucked and wooed and courted."

"I like how you set the priorities there."

He slaps her hip gently.

"Like you didn't like it."

"I did, I did." She reaches into his hair to gently scratch his scalp. "Can we come back to this?" she asks, but there's an almost pleading tone in her voice. "Next time you visit, we can talk about it."

He doesn't like the idea of waiting until his next break, but if she needs that space, he'll give it to her.

"Of course."

The signals he's getting are confusing, but he hasn't been told a straightforward 'no' yet, and the hand in his hair is nice and gentle, so he thinks his odds are quite good. He understands the need to think things through even if he's a man of impulsive decisions himself.

"When do you have to leave?"

Eddie turns to look at the Garfield clock on Steph's bedside table. If he doesn't leave right now, he'll run into traffic outside of the city later. But if he waits a few hours, he'll catch a nice view of the sunset and will be back in his flat shortly after sundown. He doesn't have classes until noon tomorrow anyway.

"I have enough time for a nap and round two," he decides, looking back at her.

"Perfect." She smiles sweetly, craning her neck down to kiss him. Then she flips them until she's the one cuddling into him, and he positively shudders when he wraps his arms around the soft body pressed against him, cradling her to his chest.

"Yeah, perfect," he agrees, closing his eyes.

#steddie #stevie harrington #mine #transfeminine steve harrington #stevierything #stevieweek #stevieweek24 #cj x stevieweek #divider by cafekitsune #crazy cat lady stevie

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xxspringmelodyxx · 5 months ago

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Mistakes~

Diluc Ragnvindr x F!Reader (Angst)

Hello my lovelies! This was a requested story by the wonderful @sailorstar9! I hope this story met your expectations! I’m excited for you to read! And as always, enjoy~

In the serene city of Mondstadt, Diluc Ragnvindr, the brooding and enigmatic owner of the Dawn Winery, found himself drowning in a sea of emotions he had never anticipated. As a man who prided himself on his composure and control, Diluc was unprepared for the torrent of regret that surged within him when he received a wedding invitation that would change everything.

It was on a day like any other when the letter arrived. The crimson seal bore the insignia of the Kamisato Clan, one of Inazuma’s most prestigious families. Diluc opened it with little interest, expecting another political correspondence. But as he read the elegantly penned words, his heart stopped.

“Dear Master Diluc Ragnvindr…”It began

“You are cordially invited to the wedding of Lady Y/N of the noble Takahashi Clan and Lord Ayato Kamisato, Head of the Yashiro Commission. The ceremony will be held…”

Your name stood out, vivid and unyielding against the parchment. Memories flooded back, unbidden and relentless. The times you had spent together, the laughter you shared, the silent promises that had been left unspoken. But one thing really caught his eye…your surname. You were from the Takahashi Clan, one of the oldest and noblest families in Inazuma. His eyes widened a bit as he realized how important you were to basically all of Teyvat. After all this time…how had he not known? How had he not connected the dots together?

Diluc's hands trembled slightly as he set the letter down. He felt a sharp pang in his chest, a sensation he hadn’t experienced in years. It was as if the mere sight of your name had reignited a flame he had long thought extinguished. A flame that burned with the searing pain of lost opportunities and choices made in haste.

Memories of your time together flooded his mind. The secret meetings in the Whispering Woods, the shared dreams, and the whispered confessions of love under the moonlit skies of Mondstadt. He remembered the way your eyes sparkled with mischief when you planned your little escapades, the stolen kisses beneath the stars, and the way you fit perfectly in his arms as if you were made for each other. He had been young and idealistic, believing that love alone could conquer all obstacles. But fate had other plans.

Years ago, Diluc had been an aspiring knight in the Knights of Favonius, driven by a sense of justice and duty. It was during this time that he met you, an Inazuman woman sent to Mondstadt on diplomatic matters. Despite your different backgrounds, you were drawn to each other, finding comfort in the other's presence.

-Flashback-

"I never thought I'd find someone like you," Diluc had confessed one night, his voice barely above a whisper as you lay together on the grass, staring up at the endless sky. "I never thought I’d find happiness again."

You had smiled, your fingers intertwining with his. "Oh Diluc. I feel the same way. My whole life… all I’ve ever known was duty and expectation." You began.

Diluc turned to face you, his eyes filled with an intensity that took your breath away. "With you, I feel like I can finally be myself. You make everything seem possible."

You sighed, feeling the weight of unspoken words. "And you make me feel seen, Diluc. You see me for who I truly am, not just what I represent."

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. "We’ll face whatever comes together. As long as we have each other, nothing else matters."

A tear slipped down your cheek as you whispered, "Promise me, no matter what happens, we’ll always have each other."

"I promise," he murmured, sealing his vow with a tender kiss under the endless sky.

-end of flashback-

You two were inseparable…you had bonded over shared ideals and dreams of a better world. Diluc admired your strength and grace, while you were captivated by his unwavering determination and fiery spirit. Your love had blossomed in secret, hidden from the prying eyes of society and the rigid expectations of your respective families.

But as time passed, another presence entered Diluc’s life – Jean Gunnhildr. She was strong, compassionate, and dedicated to the Knights of Favonius. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, Diluc found himself drawn to her. Jean was a kindred spirit, someone who understood his burdens and shared his sense of duty. They spent more time together, and what began as a deep friendship gradually blossomed into something more.

One evening, as the sun set over Mondstadt, Diluc asked to meet you at your favorite spot in the Whispering Woods. The air was thick with unspoken words as you arrived, sensing the gravity of what was to come.

-flashback-

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you,” Diluc began, his voice heavy with emotion. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Jean... Jean and I have grown close. I’ve found myself falling for her.”

You stood there, feeling the ground shift beneath your feet. The man you had loved, the man you had dreamt of a future with, was choosing someone else. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep your composure. Your heart ached, each beat a painful reminder of the love you were about to lose.

“I understand, Diluc,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “If she makes you happy, then you should be with her.”

Diluc’s eyes were filled with anguish as he reached out to touch your hand. “I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N. You’ve been everything to me.”

You pulled your hand away gently, the pain too much to bear. “I know, Diluc. But sometimes, love isn’t enough. I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.”

The silence between you was deafening, filled with unspoken words and shattered dreams. You took a step back, feeling your world crumble around you. "I always thought we’d have forever," you whispered, barely audible.

Diluc’s expression twisted with regret. "I did too," he replied, his voice breaking. "But things change, and I can’t ignore what I feel for Jean. It’s not fair to either of us."

You nodded, tears streaming down your face. "I hope she makes you happy, Diluc. Truly."

As you turned to leave, the weight of your shared memories bore down on you. Diluc watched you go, feeling a piece of his heart break with every step you took. He wanted to run after you, to take back his words, but he knew it was too late. The choice had been made, and the path ahead was set.

As you walked away, you felt an overwhelming sense of loss, as if the future you had envisioned was slipping through your fingers. You remembered the nights spent in each other's arms, whispering dreams of a life together, and now those dreams were nothing but ashes.

Diluc stood rooted to the spot, his heart shattered. He watched you disappear into the distance, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. The love he had taken for granted was now gone, leaving him with a hollow ache that would never fade..

In that moment, both of you understood the true cruelty of love: sometimes, even when you give it your all, it still isn't enough. And that realization left a scar that neither time nor distance could ever heal.

-end of flashback-

Now, as Diluc stared at your name on the invitation, he realized the depth of his mistake. Diluc had married Jean Gunnhildr, the acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius, in a union born out of mutual respect and a desire to protect Mondstadt. Jean was a remarkable woman, strong and compassionate, but his heart had never fully belonged to her. He had convinced himself that their marriage was the right choice, but as time passed, he felt the emptiness grow within him.

His marriage with Jean had become a hollow shell, devoid of the love that once seemed so promising. The warmth and passion that once filled their days were replaced by cold silence and unspoken resentments. He missed you, the warmth of your smile, the comfort of your presence.

He would wake up in the middle of the night, haunted by memories of you. The laughter you shared, the warmth of your embrace, and the love that once seemed unbreakable. He missed you with an intensity that left him feeling hollow. His interactions with Jean became strained, and the love that had once seemed possible faded into a distant dream.

Diluc often found himself in the vineyards, staring out into the horizon, wondering what might have been. He knew that Jean sensed his distance, but she never confronted him about it. She was too kind, too understanding, and that only made his guilt worse. He wanted to love her the way she deserved, but his heart refused to let go of you.

Now, as he thought about you marrying Ayato, Diluc realized the depth of his mistake. Because of his choice, he had lost the one person who had truly understood him. The thought of you being with someone else, someone who could offer you the status and respect you deserved, was unbearable.

*****

The days that followed were a blur for Diluc. He moved through his routines mechanically, his mind consumed by thoughts of you. He knew he couldn’t change the past, but the idea of letting you go without a fight seemed impossible to bear. Driven by a newfound determination, he made a decision that would alter the course of his life.

Diluc resolved to attend your wedding in Inazuma. He had to see you one last time, to express his feelings and perhaps find closure. It was a reckless plan, but he was willing to risk everything for a chance to make things right.

The journey to Inazuma was long and fraught with danger, but Diluc pressed on, fueled by his desire to see you. When he finally arrived, the sight of the Kamisato estate took his breath away. It was a grand and imposing structure, befitting a clan of such high standing.

Diluc felt out of place among the noble guests, but he was determined not to let anything deter him. He scanned the crowd, searching for a glimpse of you. When he finally spotted you, his heart skipped a beat. You looked ethereal in your wedding attire, your beauty even more captivating than he remembered. The soft, flowing fabric of your gown shimmered in the sunlight, cascading around you like a waterfall of stars. The intricate lace detailing highlighted your graceful form, while the delicate embroidery of silver and gold threads told a story of elegance and nobility.

Your hair was styled in a way that accentuated the natural beauty of your features, adorned with delicate blossoms that seemed to bloom just for you. The soft waves framed your face, drawing attention to your eyes, which sparkled with a mixture of joy and a hint of sadness.

As you moved, there was grace and poise in every step, a silent testament to your strength and dignity. The veil that cascaded down your back added an almost otherworldly quality to your presence, like an angel walking among mortals.

Diluc felt a lump form in his throat, his chest tightening as he saw you. You were a vision of perfection, standing at the altar with Ayato, a man who could match your lineage and nobility. The sight of you, so breathtakingly beautiful, was a stark contrast to the pain and regret that churned within him.

As he approached you, memories of your time together flashed through his mind. The way you had laughed at his jokes, the way you had comforted him in his darkest moments. All the things he had taken for granted now seemed like precious treasures lost to time.

You turned, and your eyes met his. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The guests, the music, the festivities – everything faded into the background as you stared at each other. Diluc could see the surprise and confusion in your eyes, mixed with something else – a flicker of the love you had once shared.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

”Diluc…” You spoke, his name rolling beautifully off of your tongue. Diluc felt his heart race as he finally heard you in what seemed to be forever.

”You…you actually came…” You continued, making him smile a bit

“I had to see you.”

You looked at him, your expression unreadable. He went up and grabbed your hands, pulling you into him.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he admitted. “I know it’s selfish, but I had to tell you how I feel. I’ve regretted letting you go every single day. I should have fought for us, for you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you shook your head. “Diluc, it’s too late. I’m marrying Ayato. He’s a good man, and he loves me…and I love him.”

His smile slowly faded away as he heard you say those words.

“I know,” Diluc said, his heart aching. “And I’m happy for you. But I needed you to know that I’ve never stopped loving you. If there’s even the slightest chance that you feel the same, I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you.”

You closed your eyes, tears streaming down your face. “Why now, Diluc? Why did you wait until now to tell me this?”

“Because I was a fool,” he said. “I thought I was doing the right thing, choosing Jean… But I was wrong. I see that now.”

You were torn, your heart pulling you in two directions. You had loved Diluc deeply, but your life had taken a different path. Ayato was kind and honorable, and he had won your respect and affection. But the sight of Diluc, baring his soul to you, rekindled old feelings you had tried to bury.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, looking at Diluc with a mixture of longing and sorrow.

“Follow your heart,” Diluc said softly. “Whatever you choose, I will respect it. I just needed you to know how I feel.”

You nodded, quickly letting go of his hands and moving back to your beloved, Ayato. You wiped the tears away to hide them from him.

*****

As the ceremony proceeded, Diluc’s mind was in turmoil. He knew he had no right to interfere, but the thought of losing you forever was almost unbearable. He could see the love in Ayato’s eyes, and he knew that Ayato would take good care of you. But that didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

When the officiant asked if anyone had any objections, Diluc felt a lump in his throat. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel the words bubbling up inside him, desperate to escape. He wanted to speak up, to declare his love for you in front of everyone, to tell you that he still loved you, that he had made a terrible mistake.

Once again, his mind raced with images of the past, the moments of joy and love that you had shared, the nights under the stars when everything seemed possible. The idea of losing you forever, of watching you pledge yourself to another, was almost too much to bear. His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles white with tension.

But as he looked at you, radiant and ethereal, standing beside Ayato, he knew he couldn’t do it. He saw the happiness in your eyes, the love that shone so clearly as you looked at your soon-to-be husband. It was a happiness he couldn’t bear to take away from you, no matter how much it tore him apart inside.

Diluc remained silent, his heart aching with unspoken words. It was not his place to disrupt your happiness. He had made his choices, and now he had to live with them. The path you had chosen was one of love and nobility, a path that would bring you the honor and status your lineage deserved.

As the officiant continued, Diluc felt the weight of his regret press down on him, a heavy burden he would carry for the rest of his life. The ceremony proceeded, each word like a nail driving into his heart. He watched as you exchanged vows with Ayato, your voices filled with love and promise.

In that moment, Diluc understood the true meaning of sacrifice. To love someone meant wanting their happiness above all else, even if it meant letting go. He had to let you go, to allow you the chance to find the joy and fulfillment that he could no longer give you.

As the ceremony concluded and you were pronounced husband and wife, Diluc’s heart shattered. The applause and cheers of the guests felt distant, like echoes in a vast, empty space. He forced himself to smile, to clap along with the rest, but inside, he felt hollow.

You were no longer his to hold, to cherish, to love. The future you had once dreamed of together was now a bittersweet memory, a reminder of what could have been. And as you walked down the aisle with Ayato, Diluc whispered a silent goodbye to the love he had lost, and to the woman who would always hold a piece of his heart.

After the ceremony, Diluc found himself alone in the gardens of the Kamisato estate. He needed some time to gather his thoughts, to come to terms with the fact that he had lost you forever.

“Diluc,” a voice called out softly.

He turned to see you standing there, your wedding dress flowing in the breeze. You looked at him with a small, sad smile, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.

“I wanted to say goodbye,” you said, your voice trembling.

Diluc nodded, his heart heavy. “I’m sorry for everything, Y/N. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

You stepped closer, reaching out to touch his hand. The warmth of your touch was a bittersweet reminder of what you had once shared. “I’ll always cherish the memories we shared, Diluc. You were my first love, and you’ll always hold a special place in my heart.”

He squeezed your hand, fighting back tears that threatened to spill. “And you’ll always be in mine.”

The silence that followed was filled with the echoes of your past, the laughter and the dreams that had once been so vibrant. Now, they were shadows, lingering on the edges of your hearts. Diluc looked into your eyes, seeing the love that still lingered there, even as it was overshadowed by the new life you were about to begin.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Diluc murmured, his voice choked with emotion. “Every choice I made, I thought I was doing the right thing. But I realize now, I was just a fool.”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “We were both young, Diluc. We did what we thought was best. Life took us down different paths, but that doesn’t mean what we had wasn’t real.”

“I’ve missed you every single day,” he confessed, his voice breaking. “I thought I could move on, but seeing you now, I know I never really did.”

You gave him a sad smile, your heart aching with the shared sorrow. “I’ve missed you too. There were so many times I wished things had been different. But we can’t change the past.”

Diluc’s hand trembled as he held yours. “Do you ever think about what might have been? If I had chosen differently, if we had fought harder for each other?”

“Every day,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “But I’ve also learned to find peace in what is. Ayato... he’s a good man. He loves me, and I’ve grown to love him too. But you, Diluc... you were my first love. That will never change.”

He closed his eyes, the pain of lost possibilities weighing heavily on him. “I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you.”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “He does. And I hope you find your happiness again soon. You have so many opportunities ahead of you, Diluc. Don’t let it go to waste.”

With a final, lingering glance, you both knew this was the end of your story together. You stepped back, your hand slipping from his grasp, leaving behind a warmth that would fade but never be forgotten. As you walked away, joining Ayato, Diluc felt a part of his heart go with you.

Watching you leave, he whispered a silent farewell to the love of his life. The future you had dreamed of was gone, replaced by a reality that was both beautiful and heartbreaking. As you walked down the aisle with Ayato, hand in hand, Diluc knew he would carry the memory of you with him always, a reminder of the love that had changed his life forever.

Diluc returned to Mondstadt with a heavy heart, but also with a sense of peace. He had faced his past and confronted his regrets. Though he had lost you, he had found the courage to speak his truth. And in that moment, he knew that he would carry the memory of your love with him always, a flicker of warmth in the depths of his soul.

————————

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its-avalon-08 · 7 months ago

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Hi hiii!! Can I request lando watching y/n perform think of me from the phantom of the opera??

my angel, my haven

(this is super different from what i usually write so im sorry if its shit)

lando's pov :

the crimson velvet curtains billowed outwards, revealing a stage bathed in the soft glow of a gaslight replica. y/n stood center stage, the spotlight catching the way her sequined gown shimmered like a thousand scattered diamonds. her back was straight, her posture radiating an ethereal confidence that sent a jolt through me. i couldn't tear my eyes away.

think of me, think of me fondly

this wasn't the first time i'd seen y/n perform. we'd been together since our karting days, but tonight, something felt different. maybe it was the grandeur of the opera house, the hushed reverence of the audience, or maybe it was just the way the stage lights painted her face in a thousand dramatic strokes. whatever it was, it took my breath away.

we never said our love was evergreen

as the opening notes of "think of me" swelled from the orchestra pit, a familiar warmth bloomed in my chest. it wasn't just the beauty of the music, though that was undeniable. it was the way y/n inhabited the song, her voice soaring through the theatre with a power and control that never ceased to amaze me. it was a voice that could shatter glass and soothe a broken heart, all in the same breath.

think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned

as she sang, a thousand memories flickered through my mind. goofy backstage moments, stolen kisses in the pit lane, late-night talks where her dreams intertwined with mine. here she was, living out one of those dreams, and i was lucky enough to witness it. a thrill of possessiveness, quickly doused by a wave of pure pride, washed over me. how could this incredibly talented, captivating woman be mine?

recall those days, look back on all those times

her voice climbed higher, weaving a tapestry of emotions with each note. christine's longing, the phantom's obsession, it all poured out of her, raw and unfiltered. her voice sounded like a dream. the audience was enthralled, hanging onto her every word. and me? i was lost in a world of my own creation, a world where the opulent stage was replaced by a dimly lit garage, the smell of grease oil replaced by the sweet scent of her hair. in that world, it wasn't christine pining for a masked figure, it was y/n, my y/n, captivating me with her talent and her love.

but please promise me that sometimes, you will think of me

the final note faded, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. then, as if a dam had broken, the applause erupted. it was a thunderous roar that shook the very foundation of the building. a wide smile bloomed on y/n's face, as radiant as the spotlight itself. as she caught my eye and smiled i felt all the stars align. in that moment, i knew. no matter what challenges life threw our way, no matter how bright her star might shine, she would always find her way back to me. and i, the luckiest man alive, would be waiting.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

thanks for reading and sending in your request! do send in more! 🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

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armandsfangs · 5 days ago

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Armand in season 3 needs to have his face covered in blood from being a messy gremlin with humans. Every other vampire on the show has had that moment and we all know he has it in him. He's been so clean about things and it shows his control but since he's now lost that control...bring on the feral creature in all his glory! I really hope they do that for him

Agreed! I pondered what would really make him lose control and well... The answer below may be obvious. Light gore and fluffiness ahead.

---

The first time it happens, it was a young man, early twenties at most, in a worn out leather jacket that smelled like Newport cigarettes. He smiles at Armand and calls him 'babe'.

Armand rips out his tongue.

The second time it happens, it was an older man, late fifties, peering over his rimless glasses with sharp green eyes. He takes a wrong turn into an alleyway and looks at Armand like he's something that scuttled out from an overturned rock.

Armand plunges his nails deep, deep, deep into the man's eye sockets until those green irises were no longer staring at him.

The third time it happens, it was a man with a soft face framed by brown curls and a lopsided smile as he smoked by the river, thinking of his boyfriend in the next town over.

Armand closes his fingers around the man's still beating heart, hot and slippery and spewing like a scarlet geyser, and crushes it in his fist.

The fourth had a Californian accent and white powder on his upper lip. The fifth laughed like the world was ending. The sixth tasted like mint and cream. At some point, he loses count. There is only the haze of crimson, the scent of iron, and the howling emptiness inside his chest. Blurry streetlights winking on and off, on and off.

Armand is sinking his teeth into a man's twitching aorta, blood pouring down his chin to his chest, when footsteps approach.

In walks worn out leather, green eyes, curly hair, and that stupid fucking lopsided smile that makes his pulse race like a rabbit.

"I'd ask if you miss me, but I think we both know the answer to that," says Daniel, with a nod toward the flayed open body going limp beneath Armand.

Armand spits out a mouthful of blood and rises to his full height. The emptiness inside him roars and bares his fangs.

"You have five seconds to run," he growls, low and venomous.

Daniel doesn't move.

The mutilated body slams into the wall behind Daniel, the echo of crunching bones reverberating in the room. Daniel flinches, and a sick sort of pleasure coils deep inside Armand's belly.

And yet, Daniel squares his shoulders defiantly.

"You don't scare me," he says. He steps closer. Amber shards glow in his eyes and ivory glints in his teeth.

"Five," Armand snarls. His hackles are up, tensed like a predator about to strike.

"You couldn't have been more obvious with all the murder victims, you know."

"Four."

"All of them - white guys, curly hair, green eyes, and attitude problems." He checks them off his fingers. "Your type can be seen from outer fucking space, babe."

"Three."

"Couldn't take what you wanted then, so now you're taking it out on strangers. Typical."

"Two."

"But now I'm here, and I've seen all that there is to see about you."

"One."

Daniel digs in his heels. "I'm never leaving you again."

Armand lunges.

Daniel catches him. He smells like Newport.

His lips are soft.

He laughs like the world is just beginning.

#iwtv #devil's minion #armandaniel #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #armand #daniel molloy #fanfic #written by armandsfangs

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sevenciircles · 1 year ago

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“Oh yeah. It’s Pride Month. Someone send the boy some… I don’t know, rainbow sparkles? They like that right?”

#we never lost control. ~ crimson

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elryuse · 5 months ago

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Yandere Sister’s friend ahn yujin x male reader please?

ANSWER ME

Yandere Ahn Yujin X Male Reader

Genre : Sister's Friend Yujin, Younger Male Reader, Yandere, Manipulative, Horror

The first time Yujin swept into our living room, a whirlwind of designer bags and cascading raven hair, I was a scrawny teenager glued to the TV. My sister, ever the social butterfly, had snagged her famous model friend for a weekend visit. Yujin, with her sculpted cheekbones and pouty lips that seemed permanently painted in a bored indifference, regarded me with the disdain of a queen surveying a particularly dull palace jester. Me, in turn, was utterly smitten. Here, sprawled on our worn-out couch, was a creature who seemed to belong on a runway, not amidst the chaos of teenage life.

Days bled into weeks, and Yujin became a constant presence. She'd return from shoots, her aura a potent mix of exhaustion and untouchable glamour. I, a gangly mess of elbows and acne, worshipped the ground she walked on. Yet, there was a surprising tenderness beneath the aloof facade. She'd ruffle my hair, a fleeting touch that sent sparks flying, then spend hours patiently guiding me through a particularly challenging level in my game. A warmth bloomed in my chest, a confusing mix of hero worship and something more, something entirely foreign and exhilarating.

One stolen summer evening, I was lost in a clumsy kiss, the taste of cherry lip gloss and teenage rebellion sweet on my tongue. Pulling away, I breathlessly met the gaze of the girl I was tangled with. But then I saw her. Yujin stood frozen in the doorway, the ever-present smirk on her face replaced by a mask of such chilling fury that it stole the air from the room. The playful glint in her eyes, once the source of my nervous exhilaration, was now a smoldering ember, promising a terrible inferno.

The Yujin who emerged from that moment was a metamorphosis I never could have anticipated. The playful teasing morphed into a calculated seduction, her laughter laced with a dangerous edge that sent shivers down my spine. She started dropping by unannounced, lingering long after my sister retreated to her room. Her touch, always fleeting before, now lingered, a brand that burned even after she was gone.

"You deserve better, sweetheart," she'd murmur, her voice a husky caress against my ear as she ran a finger down my cheek. "Someone who can cherish you, who can protect you from all the nasty things in the world." Her words, laced with a possessiveness that sent a tremor of fear through me, chipped away at the lingering hope for a normal teenage life.

She became a master manipulator, crafting elaborate scenarios. A staged "break-in" where she'd "heroically" save me, a spiked drink that left me disoriented and utterly dependent on her "care." My world shrunk with each passing day, the lines between concern and control blurring into a terrifying haze.

One by one, my friends drifted away, subtly discouraged by Yujin's pointed comments and icy stares. My sister, oblivious to the undercurrent of danger, simply assumed Yujin's possessiveness stemmed from overprotective fondness. I was trapped in a gilded cage, the bars formed by Yujin's suffocating affection.

The night the storm hit, it mirrored the tempest raging within her. The power flickered, plunging the house into darkness. Yujin emerged from the shadows, her smile, illuminated by a flash of lightning, sent a jolt of terror through me. Blood stained the crimson silk nightgown clinging to her curves, a gruesome contrast to the way her lips, still painted a sinful red, curved into a predatory smile.

"We don't need anyone else, do we darling?" she whispered, her voice a chilling melody in the storm's fury. "They all just want to hurt you. But I... I will keep you safe. We'll be perfect together. Forever."

The metallic tang of blood filled the air, a sickening counterpoint to the frantic hammering of my heart. I glimpsed a glint of manic devotion in her eyes, a terrifying adoration that promised forever, but a forever defined by her twisted desires.

Over the following weeks, the house became my prison. Yujin cut off all contact with the outside world, my phone "lost," the internet connection mysteriously "down." I was adrift in a sea of her making, filled with whispered promises and a suffocating dependence.

She'd tend to my every need, her touch a constant reminder of the price of her affection. The forced intimacy was a twisted mockery of love, leaving me raw and yearning for a normalcy I wasn't sure even existed anymore.

The blood drained from my face, the stark reality of the clippings a sickening counterpoint to Yujin's crimson smile. I wasn't her only conquest; I was just the latest object of her affection in a collection marred by disturbing disappearances. Panic coiled in my gut, the weight of my situation threatening to suffocate me.

Confrontation was a terrifying prospect. Yujin could switch from seductive charm to chilling rage in a heartbeat. Escape seemed impossible. The windows were bolted shut, the doors secured with complex locks I didn't have keys for. I was a fly caught in a web, the silken threads deceptively beautiful but strong enough to steal my breath.

Sleep became a battleground. Nightmares, fueled by the horrifying discovery, plagued me. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, the image of the bloodstain on Yujin's nightgown seared into my memory. Each morning, she'd greet me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, the cloying sweetness of her perfume a constant reminder of my captivity.

Days blurred into a monotonous routine. Yujin spent her mornings glued to the phone, arranging shoots and interviews with practiced ease. While she was gone, I'd scour the house for an escape route, a hidden key, anything. But the house, once a familiar haven, had transformed into a gilded cage designed to keep me prisoner.

The idea of escape started to lose its luster. The world outside seemed distant and unwelcoming, while Yujin, with her unwavering devotion (however twisted it may be) began to feel strangely comforting. She'd tend to my every need, whispering reassurances and promises of a future together. The isolation chipped away at my sanity, blurring the lines between affection and Stockholm syndrome.

One rainy afternoon, Yujin presented me with a bouquet of lilies, their cloying sweetness mirroring her perfume. "They symbolize devotion," she murmured, her voice a seductive caress. "Just like mine, for you."

The sincerity in her eyes, a flicker I hadn't seen before, snagged at my heart. Was it truly possible that her obsession stemmed from a warped sense of love? In the suffocating silence of the house, with the world a distant memory, the idea began to take root.

Weeks turned into months, the lines between captor and companion blurring further. Yujin's touch, once laced with possessiveness, now felt tender, almost apologetic. I found myself craving her presence, a horrifying realization that twisted my gut.

Then, one starlit night, as we sat by the fireplace, Yujin confessed everything – the staged break-in, the drugged drink, the "eliminated" women. But her voice, devoid of its usual chilling edge, trembled with a vulnerability I hadn't expected.

"They didn't understand you," she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "They didn't deserve you. Only I can love you the way you need to be loved."

In that moment, a horrifying truth dawned on me. I wasn't a prisoner anymore. I was a captive of my own twisted affection, a Stockholm pawn in Yujin's deadly game of love. The world outside had faded into insignificance, replaced by the terrifying comfort of her obsessive devotion.

As she leaned in, the scent of lilies filling my senses, I closed my eyes, a traitorous tear slipping down my cheek. I was hers, not by force, but by a love as twisted and dark as the storm raging outside. The cage, I realized with a chilling certainty, had become my home.

#an yujin #ahn yujin #ive yujin #yujin #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #update #yandere #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere girl #yandere stories #blood

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mustainegf · 5 months ago

Note

hii! could u maybe write something about reader (james' gf) finding out about the '92 montreal incident so she gets worried and goes as fast as she can to see James and like takes care of him and stuff. sorry if it sounds weird 😭

NO WAY DUDE HOW DID YOU KNOW I ALREADY HAD THIS WRITTEN!?????

𝐔𝐏 𝐈�� 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 ¹⁹⁹²

The weak backstage lights produced lengthy shadows on the Montreal Forum's walls. The air was alive with expectation and the unmistakable excitement that only a Metallica concert could provide.

I stood there, clutching my laminated pass, my pulse pounding with anticipation and pride. James, my James, was ready to take the stage. I could hear the audience yell, their voices blending.

From my vantage point, I could see the band ready to perform. Lars was stretching and stretching up his arms. Kirk was doing a last minute guitar tune up. And there was James, my beautiful soon to be husband, strapping on his gorgeous double necked guitar.

He caught my glance and offered me that wide grin that made my heart weak. I smiled back, full of pride.

The lights went out, and the noise of the crowd grew. The first beautiful notes of "Fade to Black" flooded the air, bringing the stage to life. I was spellbound as James and kirk controlled the audience. They had the in their palms, just as Kirk was finishing the intro solo.

A sudden flash exploded on stage, followed by a loud boom. Pyro went off in a wild burst, dangerously close to James. His guitar fell quiet, and the audience shifted to a collective cry of confusion. My heart stopped as I frantically searched the stage for him, but he had vanished from view.

"James!" I screamed but my voice became lost in the chaos. Crew members raced forward, and I tried to push through them, thinking only on reaching my poor James. "James! Where is he? What happened?"

"Miss, you need to stay back!" A crew member grabbed my arm and attempted to keep me in place, but I struggled against him, my eyes wide with panic.

"Let me go! I need to see him!" I sobbed, but they weren't going to let me pass. Then, among the bustle, I caught a sight of him.

My heart shattered at the sight. James stumbled up, his body twitching in anguish. His arm, hand, leg, and half of his face were all severely burnt. The flames had licked his flesh, causing furious, crimson blisters. My lungs ceased.

The paramedics arrived immediately, their faces grim. They set him onto a stretcher, and I tried to remain by his side, tears rushing down my cheeks.

"I'm coming with him!" I yelled, unwilling to let them take him without me. They nodded, too preoccupied by their pressing job to argue me.

In the ambulance, I grasped his unharmed hand, my fingers quivering. "I'm here, James. I'm right here," I said, trying to maintain my voice despite the panic. He gazed up at me, his eyes full with pain, clawing at my heart.

"It’s bad," he said, his voice breaking. "It hurts… fuck…"

"I know, sweetheart. I know. Juat hold on. You're so strong. You're gonna be fine," I said quietly, pushing his hair away from his sweat soaked forehead. Every second felt like an hour as the ambulance sped to the hospital.

When we finally arrived, the medical crew brought James into the ER, and I followed, without letting go of his hand. "Please, help him," I begged the doctors as my voice clogged with tears.

"We're doing everything we can," one of them informed me as they began working on him, cleaning up the burns and providing pain medication. James tightened his teeth, so hard I could practically hear them creak, his body straining with the severe pain.

"You're so brave, James. You're doing so good," I said, my voice soft and soothing. "Keep holding on. I'm right here with you." He grasped my fingers weakly, his eyes fluttering open to see mine.

"Don't leave me," he said in a hushed and tired whisper.

"Never," I vowed, my heart hurting for him. "I'm not going anywhere." The hours went by in a flurry of medical procedures and murmured words.

James slipped in and out of consciousness, his body unable to cope with the agony.

I never left his side. I held his hand, ran my fingers through his hair, and whispered love. "You're so strong, James. You're gonna get through this. I love you so much," I said softly, tears cascading down my face

They wrapped his burns in bandages and gave medication to help with the pain. James was so exhausted, his face pale and shadowed, but he was alive.

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a difficult mix of pain and thankfulness. "I love you," he said hoarsely.

"I love you too," I replied, kissing his forehead gently. "Rest now. I'll be right here when you wake up."

In the early hours of the morning, at about 4 am, I woke up beside James in the hospital. The room was dark, bathed in blue, except that the soft beeping of monitors tracing his vital signs had a more prominent illumination.

My body ached from this outsized chair, but I really didn't care. I just felt good to be with him.

A soft whimper drew my attention, and I turned to face James's pain lashed face. His cheeks were streaked with tears, washing away some of the grime and soot stuck to his skin.

My heart broke all over again.

"James," I whispered, moving closer, my hand finding his. "What's wrong, baby? Tell me."

He swore viciously, sawed and raw. "I'll never play guitar again," he said, his teeth clenched. "I'm ruined. And I'm in.. so much fucking pain." His voice cracked, and he twisted his head away from me, as if he couldn't stand for me to see him in the state he was in.

I crawled into the narrow hospital bed, careful not to shake him. I knew I wasn't supposed to get in bed with him, but I couldn't stand to see him suffer all by himself. Slowly, I cuddled into his side as best I could without hurting him further, my arms curved around him. His body felt so fragile as he shook.

"Shhh," I whispered, and pressed my lips against his temple. "You're not ruined, Honey."

He wept softly, body twitching with each tear. "It hurts so much," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I don't know if I can take it."

"You're the strongest man I know," I whispered back, my voice soft like a silk pillow for him to rest his head upon. "I'm right here, just breathe. The worst of it is over now."

He clung to me then, his uninjured hand gripping mine with surprising strength. "Don't leave me," he whispered, desperation slicing into his voice and going straight to my heart.

"Never," I promised him, clutching him closer to me so I could here his heart. "I'm never going to leave you, James. Never."

We lay there in the dark, his quiet weeps and the beeping of monitors the only sounds.

Finally, his cries began to wane, and then he started to breathe at regular intervals, a sound that brought great relief, for it meant he was falling asleep, exhausted. I held him, my own tears falling silently.

"I love you, Jamie." I whispered, feeling as his head tiredly rested on me. I knew in my heart, I knew he would be okay.

#mustainegf #fanfic #reqs open #fanfiction #request #metallica #metallica x reader #metallica fanfiction #metallica fluff #james hetfield x you #james hetfield x oc #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield imagines #james hetfield fic #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield #metallica imagines #oneshot

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cheynovak · 5 months ago

Text

Echoes and Shadows - Part 4

Soldier Boy x F/Reader Y/N

Warnings: Fights, gunshots, miscarriage, implied smut, blood, ...

Side note: English isn’t my first language

Words: 3600

*Does not follow the boys storyline *

In the 1950, Soldier Boy had to train a train a young girl supe named Y/N, she had a "nice girl next door" persona. Soldier Boy hated it at first, until they started to work together, he seemed to start to like this kid.

Years passed and Y/N didn’t seem to age a lot either. To her it seemed that Ben started to respect her. The two of them worked together just fine until his team Payback was assembled.

His relationship with Crimson made her feel alone, and her bond with Noir made him jealous. It goes without saying her and Crimson Countess where never best friends.

Ben’s POV

As I stood there, my hand resting gently on Y/N's shoulder, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of my stomach. Her question echoed in my mind, a poignant reminder of the gaping hole in her memory and the weight of uncertainty that hung between us.

Why was I so sweet to her? The question lingered in the air, a silent plea for understanding that tugged at my heartstrings. But how could I explain something that even I didn't fully comprehend?

And yet, as much as I wanted to provide her with the clarity she sought, I couldn't deny the truth that lingered in the depths of her gaze. She didn't remember anything, not the moments we had shared or the bond that had once grown between us.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. It was a question and a statement all at once, a reflection of the uncertainty that clouded our shared reality. She shook her head, her expression filled with regret.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, “What do I need to know?” her voice tinged with sadness. I lost my temper... again "Nothing forget about it.” and left.

As I sat down on the bed in my room, frustration bubbling up inside me like a storm on the horizon, memories began to flood my mind like fragments of a shattered mirror. I remembered an argument with Crimson over something we used to fight over and over about: Y/N.

The sharp words and bitter accusations that had passed between us like daggers in the darkness. And then, in a fit of anger and desperation, I had stormed off, seeking solace in the company of another, the one she couldn’t stand... Y/N.

I knocked on her door, my heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. When she opened the door, I couldn't help but notice how the dress she wore clung to her curves, accentuating every curve and contour of her body. She was so hot, so alluring, and yet so utterly unattainable.

"What are you doing?" I had asked, my voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and jealousy. Her response had cut me to the core. "Noir, " she had said. "He had asked her out. "

And in that moment, something inside me snapped. The anger and frustration that had been building inside me for so long erupted like a volcano. I lost control, lashing out in a fit of jealousy and insecurity. How could she choose him over me?

How could she betray me like this? As the words spilled out in a torrent of anger and frustration, Y/N's heart sank, her own confusion mirrored in the depths of Ben's gaze. She hadn't expected his reaction to be so intense, so full of raw emotion.

"Ben, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I'm not betraying you... I, I just want something real. One man to spend my life with. You have Countess and your adventures with other women... let me have..."

But before she could finish her sentence, my hands gripping her shoulders with a force that left her breathless. She must have felt the cool surface of the wall against her back as I pressed her against it, my body looming over hers with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as we locked eyes, the air thick with unspoken tension and unspoken desire. And then, without warning, my lips crashed down upon hers in a fierce and desperate kiss.

Y/N's mind whirled with confusion as she struggled to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions raging inside her. As our lips parted, I could feel the heat of our shared passion still burning brightly between us.

But beneath the surface, there was also a sense of uncertainty, a nagging doubt that lingered in the recesses of my mind. But as I looked into Y/N's eyes, I knew that I couldn't let her go.

Not now, not ever. She was the one person who had always seen me for who I truly was, the one person who had never judged me or turned away from me, even when I had given her every reason to do so.

"I can be that for you," I murmured, my lips trailing down the curve of her neck as I spoke. "I can be the one you've been searching for, the one who will make you happy. Just give me time."

With each word, I could feel her resistance crumbling, her doubts melting away in the heat of our shared desire.

Even though she whispered she had to go, she promised Noir to be there, I saw something in her eyes that night... I knew that she was mine.

Y/N's gentle knock echoed through the room, Ben opened the door and met her gaze, he could see the determination shining in her eyes, a reminder of the strength and resilience that had always defined her.

"Butcher called," she said softly, her voice tinged with urgency. "He found the TNT twins." Ben nodded, his jaw tightening with determination. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for.

"Are you coming with us?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. But Y/N shook her head, her expression resolute. "No," she replied firmly. "I'm sure you can handle them on your own."

As the sun rise above the horizon, casting long shadows across the city, Y/N paced anxiously in their modest home. Ben and the boys were out there, chasing down the TNT Twins.

But she needed to focus her mind on something else. Ben made her feel she missed something important. With a determined sigh, Y/N reached for the phone and dialled a familiar number.

"Annie, I need a favour," Y/N said, their voice tinged with urgency. "I need you to break into Vought and steal my files. Hours passed before Annie returned, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

She handed over the files, and together they retreated to the safety of Y/N's kitchen, the only place where they could have some semblance of privacy. As Y/N pored over the documents, her heart sank with each revelation.

The dim lighting cast a nostalgic glow over the photos, each one a snapshot of the past filled with heroes in their prime. Her eyes drifted from frame to frame until they landed on one particular photograph, the edges slightly yellowed with age. There it was, a picture of her and Soldier Boy, dated 1979 at the Vought annuals party.

Y/N felt a rush of memories flood back, pulling her into the past...

The party was in full swing, Vought Tower's grand ballroom alive with the shimmer of chandeliers and the buzz of conversation. The Payback team was gathered in celebration, their laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses and the rhythm of the live band. Y/N mingled effortlessly, her smile bright but her eyes occasionally darting around the room.

She spotted Ben, standing at the bar. His jaw was tight, his expression dark. It was clear something was wrong. Y/N made her way over, weaving through the crowd with the grace of someone used to navigating such gatherings.

“Hey, Ben,” she greeted him, her voice soft and steady amidst the party's din. “You okay?”

Ben looked up, his eyes softening slightly at the sight of her. “Crimson Countess,” he muttered, taking a swig of his drink. “We had another fight. I swear, sometimes I want to kill that bitch.”

Y/N sighed, leaning against the bar beside him. “You two always seem to find something to argue about,” she said, a hint of sadness in her tone. “But you also go back to her.”

“Maybe,” Ben said, glancing at her. “But it's exhausting. Sometimes I think...” He trailed off, and Y/N reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “Hey, no matter what, you’ve got us. You’ve got me. We’re... family, remember.” Ben took another sip. “Yeah, family.”

They lingered there, chatting and reminiscing, the party continuing around them as if they were in their own little bubble. Y/N cherished these moments with Ben, the rare times when the bravado fell away, and he was just her old friend.

As the night wore on and the guests began to trickle out, Black Noir appeared at her side. “Can I walk you to your room?” Noir asked, his voice low and slightly muffled through his mask.

Y/N glanced at Ben, seeing something change in his eyes. Anger, hurt, maybe even a little jealousy? She shook her head. “Thanks, Noir, but I think I’ll stay a bit longer.” Noir nodded, understanding. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before disappearing into the crowd.

The ballroom emptied, leaving Y/N and Ben alone in the dim light. The silence between them was comfortable but heavy with unspoken words. “Why do you keep meeting up with him?” Ben asked suddenly, his voice breaking the stillness.

Y/N hesitated, her heart pounding. She took a deep breath, deciding it was time to be honest. “I can’t keep waiting for you, Ben.” His eyes widened in surprise, and he looked at her, clearly unsure of what to say.

She blushed, feeling vulnerable but determined. “The kiss a few months ago... it felt amazing. But I don't want to be just another one-night stand to you.” The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Ben’s expression softened, a mix of confusion and realization crossing his face. “Y/N, I...”

Y/N took a step closer, her eyes searching his, the drinks from earlier gave her a little boost. “I care about you, Ben. More than you’ll ever know. But I need to know if you feel the same, or if I’m just wasting my time.”

Ben reached out, gently cupping her face with his hand. “I never want to hurt you, Y/N. I just... don’t know how to say it.” Her heart swelled with hope, and she leaned into his touch. “Then don't... Show me that this is real.”

Without another word, Ben leaned in and kissed her, a slow and tender kiss that spoke volumes. Both a little drunk, he led her to a chair, guiding her onto his lap. They settled there, the soft glow of the few remaining lights casting shadows around them.

Y/N looked into Ben’s eyes, seeing a mixture of emotions swirling within. Ben brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I’ve been an idiot.”

She smiled, a playful glint in her eyes. “You said it, not me.” He chuckled, the sound low and comforting. “I deserve that.” Y/N leaned in, resting her forehead against his. “So, what now?”

Their lips met again in a fervent kiss, a mix of passion and desperation. Y/N could feel the heat between them intensify, their kisses deepening, their hands exploring each other. As their kisses grew more heated, Y/N shifted in his lap, grinding against him. The friction sent shivers down her spine, eliciting a low moan from Ben.

His hands roamed over her back, pulling her closer, his desire evident in every touch.“Y/N,” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough with need.

She responded with a soft moan, her hands threading through his hair as she pressed herself closer to him. The room around them seemed to blur, the outside world forgotten as they lost themselves in each other.

Their movements became more urgent, their breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Ben’s hands moved to her hips, guiding her rhythm as they moved together, the intensity building between them. Y/N’s moans mingled with his, the sound of their desire filling the empty room.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the world reduced to just the two of them and the overwhelming need they felt for each other. It was a culmination of years of unspoken feelings, finally finding an outlet in this heated moment.

Y/N held back the urge to ask Ben to move somewhere more private. Instead, she pulled back slightly, catching her breath. "Let's go to my room," she whispered, her eyes searching his.

Ben nodded, his own desire mirrored in his gaze. They stood up, their hands still entwined, and made their way to Y/N’s room. The hallway was quiet, the rest of the team long gone, leaving them alone in their shared secret.

Once inside her room, Y/N closed the door softly behind them. Ben pulled her close again, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. They moved towards the bed, shedding their clothes along the way, their movements frantic and desperate.

As they fell onto the bed, the last remnants of their barriers fell away. They made love with an intensity born from years of suppressed feelings, every touch and kiss a testament to their deep connection. It was a night filled with whispered confessions, soft moans, and tender caresses.

A night she thought she’d would forget.

The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Y/N stirred, a contented smile on her lips as she reached out for Ben. But her hand met only empty sheets. She opened her eyes, the realization dawning on her as she found his side of the bed cold and empty.

She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest, a pang of disappointment and confusion hitting her. The room was silent, and there was no sign of Ben. Her mind raced, replaying the events of the previous night, trying to understand why he would leave without a word.

Y/N got out of bed, quickly dressing as she tried to shake off the feeling of abandonment. She left her room, hoping to find Ben somewhere in the building, needing to hear from him what had happened. Hoping he left for a good reason.

As she made her way through the hallways, seeing him with Crimson, his hand on her lower back, she kissed him. When she turned to walk away, she ran into Black Noir, who looked at her with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" She forced a smile, nodding forcing her tears to hold back. "Yeah, I just..." She looked over her shoulder to Ben, who now looked over at them not showing a single emotion.

Noir tilted his head, closing his eyes the second he understood what had happened. “Oh Y/N...” he said holding her in his arms, walking away.

Buried within the pages, passed the old pictures were secrets that Vought had gone to great lengths to keep hidden, secrets about her medical records and missions she didn’t seem to remember, till now.

They spend hours going through the files, until Annie watched silently as Y/N's expression shifted to disbelief. Annie's concerned voice broke through the silence, "What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes widening as Y/N showed her the file.

Y/N took a deep breath, her hands trembling as they pointed to a particular section of the document. "This," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. Annie's eyes scanned the words, her expression shifting from confusion to horror as the truth slowly dawned on her.

"Oh my god," she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. Suddenly, the room seemed to spin.

The air was thick with tension as payback and Ben faced off against the ruthless drug cartel. Y/N gritted her teeth, feeling ill, intensified with every passing moment. Despite her best efforts to push through, she couldn’t help to wonder what was wrong.

As the fight raged on, Y/N's movements became sluggish, her focus wavering as she struggled to keep up with the relentless onslaught of the gang members. But then, in a split second of distraction, disaster struck.

One of the blasts from the TNT twins accidentally hit her. The deafening blast echoed through the alleyway, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. Y/N barely had time to register what was happening before she was thrown backward.

The force of the explosion slamming her against the unforgiving brick wall. With every ounce of strength she could muster, Y/N forced herself to sit up, her hand instinctively clutching at her abdomen where the pain seemed to radiate from.

But as she moved, a sharp, stabbing sensation shot through her, causing her to cry out in agony. Ben was by her side in an instant, his face etched with concern as he knelt beside her, his hands gentle yet urgent as he tried to find her injuries.

"Y/N, what happened? Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with worry. But Y/N could only shake her head weakly, the pain too overwhelming to put into words. All she could do was cling to Ben's presence.

Ben's eyes widened as he noticed the blood pooling beneath her. His heart raced with a mix of fear and urgency. "Hold on, Y/N," he whispered, scooping her up gently but swiftly. Her pain-laden groans tugged at his heartstrings, but there was no time for hesitation. Every second counted.

He bolted towards the Vought Tower, pushing through the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. When they burst through the doors of Vought Tower, Ben's shouts for help echoed through the lobby. "I need a medic! Now!"

The staff sprang into action, a flurry of motion and urgency as they rushed to assist. A stretcher was brought, and Y/N was carefully transferred onto it. Ben never let go of her hand, his grip firm and reassuring. The journey to the hospital room was a blur of flashing lights and urgent voices.

Y/N's breathing was laboured, each inhale and exhale a struggle against the searing pain. When they reached the hospital room, a team of doctors and nurses immediately surrounded her.

Ben was forced to step back, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched helplessly from the doorway. "Please, she's in a lot of pain," he implored, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear.

Minutes felt like hours as he and the rest of payback waited, Ben, pacing back and forth, replaying the events of the night over and over in his mind. He couldn't shake the image of Y/N's pain-stricken face, the blood, the fear.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door opened, and the doctor stepped out. Ben rushed forward, his eyes searching the doctor's face for any sign of hope. "She's stable she is healing," the doctor said, placing a reassuring hand on Ben's shoulder. "But she eh.... she might need some mental support."

Ben was confused, “What?” The doctor nodded. “Her injuries are healed. But she... lost the baby.”

Ben's face turned pale. He turned towards Noir and Crimson Countess, then back to the doc. "C-can I see her?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The doctor hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Just for a moment. She's resting now."

Ben pushed through the door and approached Y/N's bedside. Her face was pale, but she was breathing steadily. She sat on the bed, her arms around her legs. He gently took her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

"Y/N," he began softly, "did you... know? About..." Y/N shook her head, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. "No," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I had no idea."

Ben's heart sank as he saw the tears welling up in Y/N's eyes. She looked so vulnerable, so broken, and it tore at him in ways he hadn't anticipated. Gently, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead and met her gaze.

"Y/N," he began softly, "Who's... who was...the father?” Her lower lip trembled, a tear escaping and trailing down her cheek. She tried to turn her face away, but Ben cupped her chin, gently bringing her eyes back to his.

The pain and fear in her expression were palpable, and he felt his own heart breaking in response. "Please, Y/N," Ben urged, his voice a mixture of concern and frustration. "I need to know."

Her silence was deafening. Ben searched her face, hoping for some sign, some hint that would give him the answers he so desperately needed.

But Y/N remained tight-lipped, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Who is it?" he pressed, his patience wearing thin. "Why won't you tell me?"

Y/N's tears flowed freely now, but she still refused to speak. Her silence was a wall, impenetrable and frustrating. Ben's grip on her hand tightened, his desperation mounting. "Dammit, Y/N, you can't keep this from me!" he exclaimed, the intensity of his emotions spilling over.

Y/N's face crumpled into a flinch, and she finally broke down, sobbing quietly. Ben's anger boiled "I'm trying to help you, but I can't do that if you shut me out.” He walked around the room, “Noir? Was it Noir? It was, wasn’t it? That fucking bastard!”

Her eyes watery but focussed on him, “Out.” she said between her sobs. “What?” He turned towards her. “Get. The fuck. Out. Of this room!"

"NOW!”

------

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