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not-neverland06 · 10 months ago

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n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)

(one chance please, just one chance with him)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress.

You’re not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so there’s less friction when you’re all around each other.

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since.

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn.

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer.

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face.

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy.

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don’t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face.

Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan.

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound.

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.”

You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel.

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now.

The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan.

You’d say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar.

Like you’d thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense.

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her.

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be.

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out.

It’s easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer.

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here.

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt.

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit.

You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers.

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom.

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar.

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.”

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that.

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him.

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder.

“What’re you doing?” A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all.

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations.

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice.

You’re not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title.

Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break.

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar.

He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you.

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?

You’ll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind.

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish.

You didn’t drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across.

You need to talk to him. It’s never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now.

You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him.

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question.

It’s hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone.

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word.

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him.

“Look,” he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s seriously all he has to say.

He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you.

You’ll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. “Out.” You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel.

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like he’s going to touch you.

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name.

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside.

You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles.

It’s a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream.

Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion.

“I’ve got you,” a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away.

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force.

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window.

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise.

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation.

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown.

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it.

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout.

“Two days,” he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid.

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?”

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him.

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed.

Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you.

Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry.

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands.

Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy.

But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore.

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry.

“Holy hell,” Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess.

“You look like shit.”

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands.

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath.

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears.

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all.

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head.

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah.

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now.

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything.

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night.

“I want to see her,” Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her.

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you.

That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you.

It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit.

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions.

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree.

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place.

He didn’t want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside.

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that.

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again.

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day.

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?

He knows you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when you’re in the same room together.

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head.

He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off.

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.”

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it.

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem.

A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs.

Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you.

Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. “Well?” Jean probes.

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not in the way we wanted.

Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out.

Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is.

“Imagining it’s me?” You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench.

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan.

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in.

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other.

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan.

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit.

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead.

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him.

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head.

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this.

But he’s dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him.

He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out.

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care.

You don’t say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. He’s treating you like you’re something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic.

Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him.

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face.

You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic.

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care.

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back.

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care.

You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants.

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building.

You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat.

You’re tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you can’t reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out.

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over.

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him.

His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go.

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you.

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open.

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you.

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge.

The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing.

You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place.

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy.

But you’re disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for.

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until he’s got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered.

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.”

He doesn’t say anything and you’re tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other.

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back.

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.

It’s silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispers.

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings.

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.”

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it.

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, I’m no better than a man.

#Wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #x men #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #smut #ohmygod #i can’t believe i wrote this #Someone sedate me #im just a girl #i cant be blamed LOOK AT HIM #he's actually older than every adult man in my life #can you tell i need therapy

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bloomseishiro · 2 months ago

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A SURPRISE VISIT — ITOSHI RIN

౨ৎ — you decide to surprise your fiancé while he is doing a photoshoot for a brand he works with. the director and photographer never even knew rin could smile in such a way...

itoshi rin x reader. fluff, pro soccer player!rin, y’all are like mid-twenties here, established relationship, sunshine x grumpy vibes :>

word count. 1.3k

It’s not often you are able to visit Rin while he’s working. Given the nature of his job, he spends most of his time traveling around for away games and matches outside of Japan.

Today, however, Rin is in town for a photoshoot with a local luxury brand and you decide that is the perfect opportunity. for you to surprise him. He spoils you plenty himself, bringing you souvenirs and cute trinkets from his travels. This is the least you can do to pamper him back.

You prepare him a quick and easy meal—a grilled mackerel rice bowl with a side of spinach salad—but still packed with nutrients to help fuel his body for the long day ahead. Rin has complained about PR and photoshoot days to you plenty of times before. They were busy and tiring and he barely got any breaks. What better way to bring some light into his day than a little surprise?

Along with a warm, homemade lunch, you decide you want to stop by for some flowers as well. At a nearby florist, you order a bouquet of vibrant blue morning glories (the closest color you can get to his eyes, though nothing seems to be the perfect match) mixed in with classic white florets.

Pleased with your little bouquet and neatly wrapped lunch box, you bound along to the studio Rin was working in for the day.

Immediately upon entry, you find yourself greeted by the receptionist, cheerily asking how she can help you.

“I’m just here to visit my fiance,” you say with a smile. “He’s here for a shoot— Itoshi Rin.”

She eyes you skeptically, her eyes briefly flitting to the phone on her desk. “Can I ask for your name, please?”

“Of course!” you agree hurriedly, pulling your ID out of your wallet as you stated your name. It’s inconvenient at times, having a professional soccer player as a fiancé, but you understood why security had to be higher for him. “I promise, I’m not lying! See.”

You flash her your diamond engagement ring and show her your lock screen photo of you and Rin making kissy faces at the camera.

“Oh, no! I don’t think you’re lying! Mr. Itoshi’s team always gives a list of who he might be expecting and, well, the list only has your name on it,” explains the receptionist, looking back and forth between your ID and her computer screen. “You can head right in! His session is in the big room to the left.”

“Thank you!” you chirp, gathering the bouquet back up in one arm as you hold his lunch in the other. You hope Rin will feel how much you love and value him.

You walk down the hall and hesitantly knock on the door, before deciding to push it open after not hearing a response.

As soon as you peek your head in, your eyes lock with Rin’s as he poses in a relaxed stance, one hand in his pocket as he looks away from the camera dramatically. Once he notices you, his serious expression changes into one of surprise as the corner of his lip quirks upward into the semblance of a smile.

“Yes! Exactly like that!” the director cries in relief. “Hold that smile— This is the first one we’ve seen from you all day!”

As Rin’s attention is directed away from you, the sullen expression returns to his face.

“No! Smile, I said,” said the director exasperatedly.

You wave your flowers around in the background, hoping to catch Rin’s attention as you shoot him a playful wink. It’s similar to when parents are trying to get their baby to smile for the camera by playing peek-a-boo behind the lens.

Rin’s much too old to be treated like a baby, yet somehow, your method works.

His eyes soften as he lets out an amused snort. It’s quiet and barely there, but it was enough to change the ambiance of the photoshoot. From the corner of your eye, you see the creative director nodding at the photographer fervently as the rapid clicks of the camera sound in succession.

Once satisfied with the amount of successful photos they captured, the director soon calls a quick break so the next scene can be shot. Rin wastes no time in heading over to you with a question in his gaze.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

You grin, handing him the bouquet of flowers. “To give you this!” you say simply. “I wanted to surprise you. I also brought you lunch. I know you don’t have much time to eat, but I hope you can find time to sneak a few bites between shoots.”

Rin takes the flowers and lunch box into his hands, eyes softening as he pulls you into a quick hug. “Now why did you go through all this on a random Thursday?”

“Do I need a reason to see my handsome boyfriend—er, fiancé—during work?” you say with a playful pout. He proposed only recently, and calling him fiancé is still new to you. “Don’t tell me you’re not happy to see me…”

Rin rolls his eyes at your dramatics. “I’m always happy to see you, and you know it.”

“I do!” you agree happily, bringing another small smile onto his face. “Now, I don’t want to keep you from your work for too long. I better get going.”

He frowns. “Can’t you stay longer?”

Before you can reply, the creative director from earlier concurs, “Yes, can you please? We need more pictures of Mr. Itoshi looking like he’s not miserable!”

Rin glares at him in annoyance. Partly for saying he looks miserable and partly for interrupting his conversation with you.

You laugh at the director’s pleading. “I wish I could, but I do have some work of my own to finish up today.”

You aren’t sure whose face looks more dejected—the director’s or Rin’s?

“But,” you start, trying to cheer them both up, “Rin, you can look at the flowers I got you and smile when you think of me!”

Rin’s cheeks color and a grunt of embarrassment escapes him as his eyes flit frantically to everyone overhearing the conversation.

You grin, not letting up. “And, if you eat the lunch I made you, your stomach and soul will be warmed for the rest of the shoot!”

The director nods along like you came up with the most brilliant idea ever.

“Okay, now I really do have to go,” you say apologetically, placing a chaste kiss onto Rin’s lips. “I’ll see you at home? Soon?

He nods. “Soon.”

“And,” the director sings, “it might be even sooner than planned. Mr. Itoshi, if you cooperate well, we may be able to finish up within the next hour and a half.”

Rin’s expression turns serious, a look of fierce determination forming on his features. “So, I can be home in less than two hours?”

“Yes. Maybe even sooner if we get into a good flow.”

“We will,” promises Rin as if he has no other option. “I’ll be home soon.”

You giggle at his resoluteness. Nothing motivates him more than soccer and spending time with you.

“Work hard then!” you say. “I’ll see you in a bit, baby.”

The tips of Rin’s ears turn red as he hisses, “In public?”

You have to stop yourself from snickering at his embarrassment. The two of you really need to work on your public displays of affection.

“Wait— That’s it!” exclaimed the director. “That’s the perfect flushed face! Someone bring a camera here, stat!” As the director rambles along, you wave goodbye to Rin, wiggling your fingers as you watch the look of misery return to Rin’s face, his eyes calling to you to help get him out of here.

“Break’s over! Come along now, Mr. Itoshi.”

You spare him one last thumbs up before leaving the studio with a laugh. Well, that visit certainly turned out to be more entertaining than you had imagined. You would have to visit Rin at work much more often.

#🌸.writings #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #bllk fluff #bllk x you #itoshi rin #blue lock #bllk #rin itoshi #rin x you #itoshi rin x you #ron itoshi x you #bllk fanfic #bllk drabbles

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bucketbueckers · 3 months ago

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SUPERSTAR

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: party!p being drunk and clingy and a maybe a little annoying, fluff without plot, the fuck ass net, language, the authors love language is physical touch and you can really tell

wc: 3.0k

synopsis: Paige Bueckers is a lightweight. Knowing that, you really shouldn’t have been all too surprised by the post-win afterparty.

notes: obligatory post natty fic?? i say yes! cooking one up for azzi too, idk when it will get posted but expect it soon. i dont care how much homework i have to procrastinate. side note, watching them play live was such a surreal experience, i'm still thinking about it and there are so many emotions that i can't put into words. they deserved this win so bad and i love my team so much 😩 i also wrote the second half of this while watching the men’s natty and all i have to say is im a misandrist and go huskies! as always i hope y'all enjoy 🫶

You liked to think that you were an expert in a few niche categories.

The first is basketball. You grew up listening to the reverb of the bounce echoing in the gym. You learned how to dribble before you learned how to multiply. More often than not, you could usually tell when a shot was going into the net as soon as it left your hands. This is all to say you were pretty decent at basketball, although you’re sure that dropping a modest fourteen points in the national championship match and taking home the trophy makes you a little more than decent at ball.

Basketball aside, you weren’t lacking in the skills department. KK jokes that you and Carol share the title as the moms of the group since you’re so good at conflict resolution – although you prefer the term “trying to keep everyone alive.” More often than not, you’ll find Morgan standing at your door with a bag of groceries in hand, a wide smile on her lips in hopes that you’ll cook her dinner because, according to her, you just make the best carbonara she’s ever had. You’ve never been good at saying no to Morgan – she was yours and Aubrey’s shared freshman and after her surgery, you’ve made a point of spending as much time with her as possible because you can tell she’s not having an easy time with watching everyone play while she’s on the sidelines.

The one thing that you’re certain you’re an expert in is Paige Bueckers. You know her inside and out and on and off the court. The two of you started as rivals in high school, although your friendship truly blossomed during AAU competitions and Team USA where you had to play together. The distance and the competition kept the both of you from being anything more than friends, but when the both of you committed to UConn without the other knowing, Paige asked you out after the first summer practice and you were sure that you were a goner when she ran into a pole trying to spin a ball on her finger in an attempt to impress you. You grew up together, saw the best and the worst parts that came with dating an athlete, and stuck it through until the end – you even used your COVID eligibility to stay one extra year with her. Whether the universe wanted it or not, the two of you were going to win a natty together, damn it; and win it you did.

Which leads you to where you are now. You’re an expert in Paige Bueckers. There’s not a single thing you don’t know about her, just like there’s not a single thing she doesn’t know about you. That’s why you knew you were doomed when, during the group picture, she exclaimed “We get a parade! And we get to get drunk!” The thing about Paige is that she’s a D1 clinger when she’s plastered. She’s loud and annoyingly charming and honestly, you’re so in love with her that you’re not bothered by it. You’d hold her hair back while she vomited for the rest of your life as long as it meant the two of you were together for it. You just knew she’d be inconsolable and grumpy in the morning when she’s hungover, but after five years of blood, sweat, tears, surgery, rehab, and hardwork, your girlfriend has just won a national championship, so if she wants to get a little plastered and sing at the top of her lungs, then you have no real reason to do anything but ensure she gets back to your room safely.

A few minutes after the conclusion of the net cutting ceremony, you’re taking a few more photos with the trophy in your hands, your hat tucked neatly over your head when Paige comes over. The photographer leaves you two be as Paige reaches for the brim of your hat, turning it backwards to match hers. She’s got that soft, mischievous, slightly wide-eyed look on her face as she looks at you and you can’t help but melt at it. You can tell from her expression that it hasn’t fully set in that she’s won a natty, but you know it’ll hit her later.

“You want something or are you just here to annoy me?” you ask teasingly, handing the trophy off to Ice, who’s taking selfies. You reach out to adjust the net around Paige’s neck as she responds.

“What, I can’t come say hi to my girl?” she goads, the look on her face far too pleased. One of the other things you knew about Paige Bueckers after so many years together was that she loves attention. Specifically, from you, and you can tell that she loves how easily you handed off the trophy to focus fully on her.

“Hello,” you deadpan, which just makes her smirk.

“I ever tell you how proud I am of you?” she asks, shocking you slightly, and heat rises to your cheeks as you try to process the sudden praise.

You blink, rolling your eyes slightly, but the fond smile on your face gives you away. Your girlfriend curls her arm over your shoulders as she leads you through the crowd towards the tunnel. “C’mon, P. I should be saying that to you.”

“Nah,” she disagrees. “You brought us back in the second quarter with those threes.”

You shrug a shoulder, feigning nonchalance. “I did see Coach Staley crashing out when I was getting back on defense.” That makes Paige laugh a little, pulling you flush into her. “I’m serious, though. I’m proud of you, you know?” The two of you slow to a stop once you’re safely away from the cameras and the onlookers, so you turn towards her, resting your hands on her chest and threading your fingers through the net around her neck. “You just…you don’t know how special you are. As a person, a player, a teammate. You’ve been the heart and soul of this team, Paige. You’re here now. And you did it.” You give a teasing tug to the net, watching the affectionate smile spread across her lips, the tears pooling at her waterline again. “You deserve every bit of this.”

“We can be proud of each other,” she suggests. “But I’m definitely prouder than you.”

“You’re full of shit,” you say fondly, patting her cheek. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I really am,” she agrees, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips, one that makes you smile, and one that lasts not nearly long enough because KK walks by and gags dramatically. You raise a middle finger to her as she cackles. Paige laughs against you, too, wrapping her arms around your waist and sinking into your embrace instead. You rub her back, feeling her relax against you, and you kiss her head over the hat.

“I don’t suppose this means you’re gonna behave tonight?” you ask jokingly, already knowing that Party P will be in full effect.

She scoffs like you’ve just said something egregious. “I’m always on my best behavior,” she declares, and all you can truly do is smile and roll your eyes. You know.

The moment Paige finds the ping-pong table, you know it’s wraps.

She’s only a few shots in, but Paige Bueckers is a lightweight. You learned that much when you were both freshmen and you convinced one of the upperclassmen on the team to buy you drinks at Ted’s. Paige was laid out in the bathroom by 10pm and the two of you went home early. You spent the better part of the morning after tending to her hangover, but you’d told her to slow down, so everytime she whined that her head hurt you simply said, “I told you so” (although you felt bad enough for her that you rubbed her back for a few hours until the ache subsided).

Paige is playing one on one with Sarah – mind you, she’s still wearing that fuck ass net, but it’s a little endearing by this point. It reminds you of a little kid who can’t go anywhere without their emotional support blanket. Somehow, you’ve been roped in to being the referee, and as much as you tried to argue that ping-pong didn’t really need a referee, Paige was already inching into that clingy state of being drunk, so she’d just pulled you along and planted a wet, obnoxious kiss to your cheek as she steadied her paddle, unmistakable confidence in her expression.

At first, it’s tame. You watch the ball bounce back and forth between the two of them, still nursing a drink of your own. You alternate between saying Point, Sarah, or Point, Paige. Sarah, in typical Sarah fashion, hardly reacts, although Paige is either crashing out or celebrating every point like it’s another natty win. You weren’t too sure where she got the whole “nonchalant final boss” thing from, but it definitely was not true.

A few rounds later, a small crowd has formed, and she takes a breather to sidle up next to you. She wraps an arm around your waist and leans into you, taking a sip from your drink (much to your amusement), her expression is unbearably blissed out. Paige has a soft look on her face, her eyes a little hooded, but beyond the clear drunkenness, you can see a whole lot of love reflected in her eyes, an appreciation for tonight’s win. “You having fun, baby?” you ask her, a grin on your face.

She hums, tightening her grip, uncaring of the way Ice and KK are laughing at her. Paige pulls back suddenly, concern and slight guilt on her face. “Are you?” she echoes, like it would physically pain her if you weren’t enjoying your night. Knowing her, it probably would.

You laugh a little, rubbing your hand down her back, adjusting the cap on her head because it’s about to fall off from all of the bouncing around she’s done. “I am, don’t worry,” you say honestly.

“Good,” she murmurs, kissing you soundly. Without another word, she extracts herself from your grip and gears up for the next few rounds of ping pong with Sarah. She catches your eye and winks. “This one’s for you, baby,” she promises.

The serve immediately sails out of bounds. You try not to laugh too hard when you say, “Point, Sarah.”

“Shit,” Paige states.

“I think you’re supposed to keep the ball in bounds,” Sarah says helpfully.

“I got distracted,” Paige argues. “Didn’t count. 0-0.”

“It’s 1-0 for Sarah,” you call out, taking your job very seriously. You ignore the pout Paige sends your way, as if a pretty face would make you give up your refereeing integrity. It won’t.

Paige and Sarah take turns hitting the ping pong ball. You stay focused, although Paige’s expression endlessly amuses you. Her brows are furrowed, concentrated as she follows the ball, her movements strangely coordinated and precise for someone who’s a few shots in. Then, Ice announces she’s on live, which distracts Sarah, and Paige scores an easy point on her. Immediately, she launches into a celebration, chanting something that sounds like “Little Rah.” You and Sarah exchange a glance. A smile spreads across your face as you announce, “Foul on Paige. Unsportsmanlike conduct. Point, Sarah.”

Paige spins on her heel immediately. “Bruh, what?” she exclaims. “How was that unsportsmanlike? Since when does ping pong even have foul calls?”

“Careful, Lil Paigey,” Sarah says somberly, although her lips twitch like she’s trying to hold back a smile. “Arguing with the ref can get you a tech. Just ask DT.”

“Bruh,” Paige says again, looking at you pleadingly, like you can take away the egregious foul call you just made on your girlfriend. “Babe, come on. You know this is bull–” you raise a brow at her and she falters, “–crap. Bullcrap.”

You grin when you say, “2-0, Sarah.”

Paige stares at you like you’ve just betrayed her. You can tell she’s not actually upset, but she’s competitive more than anything. She takes a deep breath and reaches for her paddle again.

For the rest of your round, you do your best to throw Paige off her game, ranging from rolling up your sleeve as you pretend to inspect your conveniently flexed bicep or making increasingly more bullshit calls. You award Sarah a point for having a double double in the natty and subtract one point from Paige’s total because she had one turnover (you ignore her when she points out that Sarah had two turnovers, like that’s any of your business).

Finally, you call it at 15-9 in Sarah’s favor because you can tell the drinks are catching up to Paige. It’s already well past midnight and your flight back to Storrs tomorrow morning is early and you know Paige is going to have a rough morning. She pouts when you tell her that you’re taking her back to the room, but she knows it’s for the best so she makes her rounds, hugging everyone in the room and refuses to part with the net when KK reaches for it. Paige tangles your fingers together, not letting a single inch of space separate the two of you as she rambles on about how you and Sarah were most definitely cheating (you were).

When you make it back to the hotel room, you guide Paige into the bathroom, squeezing toothpaste onto her brush and pulling her hair tie out while she cleans her teeth. “I’mma be so sick tomorrow,” she complains, spitting, and scrubbing again as you reach for your toothbrush.

“That’s why you’re gonna take some medicine before you sleep,” you tell her. “And in the morning. And I’ll get you some coffee.”

“You’re the best,” she whispers, rinsing her mouth out. She stands behind you and wraps her arms around your waist, burying her head in your neck. Her breath tickles your skin as she tries to melt into you. She behaves like she’d die if she wasn’t under your skin, but you love your clingy girl just the same. “I’on know what I’d do without you. Like, for real. I wouldn’t be here without you, y’know that?”

“You’d still be here. Just a little less house trained, I think,” you promise her. Paige laughs against your skin, amused, as if she knew that’s what you would say. “But I’m glad you didn’t have to do it alone.” That makes her soften, her hands trailing under your shirt to brush against your skin. “You never have to do it alone as long as I’m here.”

“I know,” she says, kissing your neck tenderly. She squeezes you around your waist, then releases you, her gaze a little sleepy and hazy.

You offer her a grin, reaching for her hand. “Let’s get you to bed, superstar.” She nods and trails behind you. You flick on the lamp as she gets settled into bed. Paige tugs meaningfully at the net around her neck and you laugh, shaking her head. “You’ll choke and die in your sleep,” you deadpan. “I’d really like it if my girlfriend made it through the night.”

Paige juts out her bottom lip, grumbling under her breath as you pull the net off, draping it over the desk chair. You take the hat from her and set it on the nightstand, brushing your fingers through her hair as her eyes slip shut in relaxation. Before she can get too comfortable, you pass her a water bottle and the tylenol, which she takes without complaint.

Once she’s finally settled, you crawl into bed next to her. She wastes no time before wrapping you up, drawing you into her body and tucking her face into the crook of your neck and breathing soundly. You’d thought it would take some time before Paige would realize that she just won a natty, but now, it’s sinking in for you. You’re a national champion. So is your girlfriend. You’ve accomplished the very goal that you came back to UConn to seek out. You’re overcome with this heavy feeling of peace, gratitude, an overwhelming amount of love and admiration for the woman who put the team on her back when she needed to, who took a step back to let her team do their thing when needed to. Most of all, you’re overcome with a feeling of belonging, the feeling that you’re right where you’re supposed to be, wrapped in Paige’s arms like you’re more important to her than the trophy.

You think she’s fallen asleep until she murmurs, still slightly in awe, “We did it.” Her hand tightens around the fabric of your shirt, her voice exhausted and dripping with something that sounds like accomplishment.

Your fingers brush her knuckles, a smile of your own spreading across your face as you agree, “We did.”

You can feel the smile she presses against your skin, the subsequent kiss that follows. “I love you,” she murmurs. “Thank you for doing this with me.”

You don’t think you could be anywhere else. You lift her hand to your lips, kissing her knuckles, and she squeezes you one more time as you whisper, “I love you, too.”

When the two of you wake up that morning, you have her coffee ready and you make sure she takes her medicine to keep the headache away. And when she looks at you hopefully, holding up the net and the hat, you really don’t have it in you to protest.

You place the net around her neck again and you tuck the wisps of her hair under her hat, pressing your lips to hers, and she hugs you tightly with an emotion that feels a hell of a lot like relief. You know she’s relieved for a lot of reasons, but the top reason stems from a deep thankfulness that the both of you were able to win the national championship together, just as you’d spent years dreaming about.

Paige grins at you again, her expression adoring, and you know that what the two of you have is worth a whole lot more than the trophy you’ll be transporting to Storrs.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb

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writeriguess · 4 months ago

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hello!! im new on ur account and ive been loving all the things u write! can i request reader being drunk from girls night and shes soooo clingy with katsuki while hes removing her makeup and making sure she’s comfortable 🥹 i can js imagine katsuki saying “mhm, miss you too babe now tell me how to remove your stupid waterproof mascara.”

Clingy Drunk Babe

Katsuki barely had time to catch you as you stumbled into the apartment, your arms instantly wrapping around his waist. You buried your face into his chest, sighing dramatically.

“Missed you soooo much,” you mumbled, voice muffled against his hoodie.

“Tch. You were gone for, what, four hours?” Katsuki grumbled, but his arms still found their way around you, steadying you before you could fall over.

“Too long,” you whined, looking up at him with glassy, adoring eyes. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” he said immediately.

You gasped, scandalized, then squished his cheeks between your hands. “Liar.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue but let you pull him down into a sloppy forehead kiss. He sighed, then scooped you up bridal style, carrying you straight to the bathroom. “C’mon, let’s get all this crap off your face so you don’t complain about it in the morning.”

You giggled, kicking your feet playfully. “You’re sooooo strong, ‘Suki.”

He snorted. “Yeah, yeah, keep sweet-talkin’ me, drunkie.”

Setting you down gently on the bathroom counter, he grabbed your makeup remover, reading the label with a frown. “The hell is ‘micellar water’? This just fancy water?”

You giggled again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “You’re so cute when you’re confused.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, ears going pink as he grabbed a cotton pad and started wiping at your foundation.

He worked in silence for a while, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as he cleaned your face. But when he got to your eyes, he paused, scowling at your mascara. “How the hell do I get this stupid waterproof shit off?”

You giggled, nuzzling into his neck. “Mmm, miss you.”

“Mhm, miss you too, babe, now tell me how to remove your stupid waterproof mascara.”

“Oil cleanser,” you hummed, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw. “Top shelf.”

Katsuki grumbled under his breath but grabbed it, diligently working until your face was clean. Once he was done, he pulled back, inspecting you with a satisfied nod. “There. Now let’s get your ass to bed before you pass out on the damn floor.”

You grinned sleepily, reaching for him again. “Only if you cuddle me.”

He rolled his eyes but easily lifted you into his arms again. “Yeah, yeah. Like I’d leave your needy ass alone right now.”

You giggled, curling into his warmth as he carried you to bed. “Best boyfriend ever.”

“Damn right,” he muttered, tucking you in and sliding in beside you.

And even though he pretended to be grumpy about it, Katsuki held you extra close that night.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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catdia · 7 months ago

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Sevika with a Chubby S/o pt.2

Sevika is a very jealous and prideful individual. she doesn’t take kindly to others that try to take you away from her

when Finn tried to get you close to him, she killed half his goons as a warning

teaches you basic self defense, how to use your body as an advantage in combat

ended with both of you making out on the practice mats

gave you a knife and handgun as a birthday present

all your clothing is automatically hers as well. loves wearing your shirts and hoodies when running errands

Sevika has MASSIVE hips, she doesn’t like them that much because pants never fit her waist right. but you love them!

and you also don’t like when pants highlight your underbelly. if she sees your belly in any capacity she’s grabbing that thing like a vice

uses your stuff before you ever get to. that new Piltovan skin care you got? Sevika gives it 10/10

eats all your snacks, even the healthy ones that taste “like cardboard”

the scar on her temple gets sensitive with the cold, uses your tummy as a heating pad when cuddling

one of Sevika’s love languages is bringing you fresh vegetables and fruit she smuggled from overseas

seeing your eyes sparkle in delight as you eat the sweet fruits makes her love her shitty job a little more

she got your nickname “peach” because of your love of fruit (and your fat ass)

if there is a place on earth that can be considered hell is when your periods sync up. Both in pain and grumpy.

when it’s just you, she gives you princess treatment (more than usual). even going as far as making homemade soup

i believe Sevika doesn’t get her period as frequently as she used to. mainly thanks to the amount of Shimmer she uses

Shimmer is the reason you almost had a terrible fall out. it was doing your woman more harm than good. making her extremely aggressive to the point where she threw and broke the matching clay mugs you gave her as an anniversary present. you spent almost two months making them

all of this because you threw away her last Shimmer supply. you just couldn’t she her like that anymore

you sobbed as you collected the pieces of the floor. so preciously putting them on your lap as she just watched in horror. Sevika had never seen you so broken. What had she done?

Sevika kneeled in front of you trying to make everything right. picking up little colorful shards of the floor. but you pushed her onto her feet. you pointed at the door.

“Get out…”

“Peach, please I—“

“Get the fuck out Sevika!”

she spend the next few weeks crashing in Silco’s office. drinking her sorrows away. while going cold turkey off Shimmer

remembering your soft cheeks stained with tears and trembling shoulders. she never had seen you so angry

once she had the courage (and by that I mean Silco and Jinx kicking her out for beign love sick) to come back home, she didn’t grasp how much she actually needed your love

it was a positive sign that you let her in. like a silent “prove me wrong”

you made her sleep on the couch for weeks. ignoring all Sevika’s attempts of affection. walking away when she got too close, not drinking the coffee she made for you in the mornings, covering your body quickly whenever she walked into the bathroom after your showers

Janna, did she miss having your body on hers. having you cuddle her to sleep. now she is stuck in this ratty couch. she missed how you moaned, what you tasted like. Sevika was unbelievably horny

but she needed to wait for you to make the first move out of respect for the pain she caused

when she was sleeping on the sofa you woke her up by grinding your cunt on her thigh. only wearing your night robe. open in the middle, nipples hard and belly creasing on your pelvis. you placed her mechanical arm on your temple. cradling her metal palm with your lips

“Fuck me like you mean it, ‘vika! Make me your woman again.”

Sevika saw the fire in your eyes, and the burn was a prize she was willing to take

you kissed each other hard, clawing at clothing and skin. teeth clashing. every touch was personal. sensual. like a withered plant in water

even if the sun never warmed the underground it didn’t matter to her. because the sun couldn’t ever bring her life like you did

Sevika had never made love before. only saw sex as carnal lust. but having you vulnerable in front of her and having given her forgiveness was the best gift she could have asked for. the gift of hope and chance. she touched you like a lover, a soulmate.

you laid naked on her chest, blissed out in pleasure. in the afterglow of sex. Sevika groping the flesh of your ass. as she blew cigarette smoke into the air. you were going to complain about the smell in the morning.

“I quit Shimmer.”

you smiled into her exposed skin. Sevika was a blunt woman, and you appreciated that part of her.

“Good.”

“Love you, doll.”

“Mmmm — me too Sevika.”

and you definitely made her go to one of those pottery couples classes to replace the mugs she broke

Sevika wasn’t getting off thaaattt easy

#arcane x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane silco #arcane league of legends #arcane #jinx x reader #vander arcane #jayce x reader #jayce talis #viktor league of legends #vi x reader #fat reader #sevika x chubby reader

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hearts4hughes · 12 days ago

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hiii can do an bsf!rafe where y/n posts to insta in a teeny bikini knowing it'll piss rafe off and topper and kelce screenshot it and make comments ab it to rafe in a kook boys group chat and he's alr pissed ab it bc y/n is on vacation for the weekend and he secretly misses her and is grumpy in general and this post and topper and kelce's comments, plus whatever creepy kooks comment on y/n's post are not making his day better and she is in for it when she gets home?? no worries if not-🪩💗

you wore that on purpose. you knew exactly what you were doing. because he’s not there and you left for some girls’ trip to sullivan’s island with a tan canvas duffel and a smug little “don’t miss me too much,” tossed over your shoulder like he doesn’t already feel weirdly itchy when you’re out of his sight too long.

he’s been pretending like he doesn’t miss you. like your absences doesn’t create a y/n shaped hole in his heart. he texts you every morning, calls every night, and refreshes your socials every hour just to make sure he’s not missing anything. he keeps tabs on your location from the tracker he told you to put on before you left.

it was all going just swell. that was until topper sent the screenshot. rafe picked up his phone to check the notification just like he usually does. but when the photo finally loaded and it was of you—in two strings that you call a bikini—his ears were ringing.

cocaine cowboys gc

top: ur girl is lookin nice cameron😛

kelce: damnnnnn

kelce: you approve this before she posted bud?

rafe: shut the fuck up before i skin you both alive

top: trouble in paradise huh?

oh, he wants to laugh. he wants to brush it off. but he’s too busy gripping his phone so hard his thumb cracks the edge of his case. it’s not even that you’re doing anything, really. it’s the knowing look in your eyes. the stupidly tiny triangle of your bikini top. the little caption, kissed by the sun, not by you☀️. and the string of heart eye emojis from random kooks in the comments.

(he blocks two of them. he doesn’t care. one of them went to tannyhill once and looked at you too long. rafe remembers everything.)

he shuts off his phone and places it down to fight the urge to throw it against the nearest wall. his entire body runs warm. his breathing grows shallow and steam rolls out of his ears. he doesn’t call or text you for the rest of the trip.

you roll up to your driveway with a fresh tan, rosy cheeks, and a best friend ready to kill. you barely get the chance to park before he’s ripping the door of your mercedes open and sliding into the passenger’s seat.

you take one look at his red cheeks and dark eyes and you hold back a grin: “jesus—rafe, hi?” you barely get the word out before his palm finds your thigh, warm and possessive. like it’s just sitting there. like it belongs there.

“don’t hi me,” he mutters. jaw sharp, teeth clenched. his hat is pulled low and backwards, but you can still see how wild his eyes are.

you try to play innocent. “missed you too, honey.” his fingers dig into the skin of your plush thigh. his cheeks match the pink interior of your car.

“you think that’s funny?” he growls, lips pressed into a tight line like it physically hurts to stand there. his chest heaves with something mean.

your stomach flips. but you’re still playing the game. “think what’s funny?” you bat your freshly laminated lashes and pout your lipglossed lips, feigning complete innocence. he swallows harshly.

“posting your ass all over the internet like you don’t know what that does to me,” he snaps. “like you weren’t counting the seconds till topper texted me.”

you blink up at him. “topper texted you?”

he laughs. dark. bitter. “everyone texted me. kelce, jj, fucking some guy named wyatt in your comments. who the fuck is wyatt, y/n?”

“just a friend,” you hum, and that’s the last thread he’s got.

“you think this shit’s cute?” he grits. his hand slides further up your leg, under the hem of your shorts now. “you do this again, baby, and i’ll remind you real fast who you belong to.”

your breath hitches. your heart does that annoying flutter ache thing in your chest. but still, you give him that look—lashes low, mouth curved.

“you jealous, rafe?” your words drip with honey and everything sweet. he held back a moan at how delectable you sounded when you said his name. he was a pathetic man at your complete will.

he doesn’t answer. just stares at you for a beat, unreadable, before dragging you across the console into his lap. “i missed you,” he says finally, all rough and low against your ear. like it’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud. “but you make it really hard not to lose my fucking mind.”

your voice is breathy. “you already did.”

“yeah,” he mutters, brushing his nose along your jaw, “and you’re gonna pay for it.”

and all you do is grin like a girl who got exactly what she wanted.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @mojitrvo @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @bibissparkles @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife @restinpaece @illumoria @meetmeintheemeraldpool @miaaaoa @imtalkinnonsense @strawberrymilk99 @angel06babysworld @rafesteddy @drewrry

#nora’s writings 💐#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #bsf!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x bsf!reader #bsf!rafe #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron imagine

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espinosaurusrexex · 2 years ago

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Watchful Eyes

CEO!SteveRogers x Female!Maid!Reader AU

read Bucky's story here

summary: When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

a/n: So that just happened... I don't know where it came from, but please enjoy. (Please don’t be discouraged by the word count - I promise you it’s worth it and I kindly ask you to at least try 💛)

word count: 10.8k

warnings: power differences, Steve is pining, watching someone over secret livestream (is this stalking?), women being referred to as objects (not by Steve), just so much fluff, and also angst (there is a happy ending!), smut (masturbation - m, praise kink, oral - f receiving, dirty talk, orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected p in v, size kink, breeding kink) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ｡✭･ﾟ

“Can you start Monday?”

“I can start Monday.”

“Perfect.”

Holy fuckidy fuck fuck.

You had a job. A job that would crinkle some noses but it would pay money. Good money actually. Well, better than other offers in the branch.

It had been luck, really. Because during one drunken night, which had originally been dedicated to drowning yourself in self-pity over the last job that had let you go due to staff cuts, your friend Natasha had crashed your party with Chinese food and gossip from her workplace. She was an assistant for one of the CEO’s of Shield Protection Services. And during her lunch with Sharon, the other assistant, Sharon had complained about Steve Rogers and how he had fired the third maid this month because they, apparently, were taking pictures of his home or selling some of his things.

There might have been some talk about how picky and stuck up he could be but the important info was that Sharon was desperate at this point and had asked Nat if she knew anyone with the decency not to breach privacy and willingness to clean the CEO’s home.

The good thing - or bad thing, you weren’t sure - was, Nat knew you were desperate too. So she gave Sharon your number and before you knew it, you were an employed woman again.

❁ ❁ ❁

It was too early for you to be roaming the streets of New York, but you had gotten instructions and so you had gotten up at 6 and headed out to the address. And when you arrived, it felt as though it was the first time you blinked since the subway - you were that tired. Definitely not a morning person.

The building was huge, tall glass fronts stretching into the sky and the ride up to the penthouse took longer than your average elevator rides did.

The doors opened and revealed a beautiful open floor plan. A whole wall of windows brought natural light into the place and offered a view so breathtaking, it took you a moment to collect yourself. The place was ginormous - a lot to clean up - but seemed tidy enough to at least get started right away.

You placed your bag on the counter by the kitchen and took more of the place in when suddenly, a voice startled you.

“Who are you?” You whipped around, big eyes searching for the source until they landed on a tall man standing in what seemed to be a dining area - well, one of them at least. He had broad shoulders, neatly styled hair and one of those toothpaste smiles you only ever saw in magazines. He was wearing office attire, blue dress pants that slightly stretched over his muscled thighs, and when your head wandered back up his body, piercing blue eyes seemed to stare right into your soul.

Holy Shit.

Before you stood Steve Rogers, three-time Forbes Magazine cover story, young entrepreneur turned filthy-rich hunk of a man, and CEO of the most successful security firm in this country. And he was talking to you - staring at you... waiting for an answer.

Talking, you needed to start talking, you reminded yourself.

“I’m the new maid, sir. I’m so sorry I was told to come here at 7 as you leave for work before that.”

Mr. Rogers looked at you with an unintelligible stare. Meanwhile, you were nervously wringing your hands in the doorway, looking down. You hadn’t planned for anyone important to see you today. The worn-down Fleetwood Mac shirt you didn’t mind getting bleach on hanging over some pants you pulled from the back of your closet definitely wasn’t the kind of outfit you expected to greet Steve Rogers in. Great start. This was going awful.

“Well I’m here aren’t I?” His arms folded before his chest as his eyebrow raised, impressive biceps bulging beneath the white button-up, and - damn - it was hard not to stare.

“Right. Yes. Sorry. I’ll come back later.” You turned to leave again but he stopped you.

“No need. I am on my way out.” The left corner of his mouth twitched into a cheeky grin when he grabbed his bag, left the newspaper discarded on the table, and placed his coffee mug in the sink. Interesting.

“Don’t snoop.” He whispered teasingly as he passed you, a whiff of expensive cologne paralyzing your senses and you weren’t sure if he was making a suggestion or actually warning you. That damn perfume seemed to hypnotize you.

Your eyes followed his broad shoulders until they disappeared behind the corner and then the elevator doors shut. It seemed to take all the tension from your face. You exhaled long and then began to look around some more.

The place was huge, you’d already established that. But when you found the third bedroom amongst the private office and Pool table room, you knew you had to make a weekly plan to work off. You had to give Mr. Rogers credit, though. There was rarely any clutter lying around - it wasn’t dirty per se - just had the usual dust you’d expect in a place this size with only one person living in it.

You huffed, resting your hand on your hips once you completed the tour. And then you got started.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve peered up from his computer screen when Bucky strolled through the doors of his office. A coffee in hand he had most likely tweaked from his assistant's desk on the way here, he shot a grin to his oldest friend and business partner.

“What ya doing, punk?” The brunette asked teasingly when he circled the desk and settled on the window sill behind Steve.

“Just making sure things stay in order.” He leaned back and turned around slightly, just in time to see his friend nod knowingly.

“Heard Nat got you a new maid.” Bucky dipped his chin towards the laptop still open on the desk. “That her?”

His eyes wandered to the screen where a live feed of his apartment streamed you changing his bedsheets. He hummed in agreement.

“She’s pretty,” Bucky commented before sipping his coffee again and Steve felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble in his stomach. “But I bet you don’t care anyway. You’re all ‘don’t sell my stuff’ and ‘having things stolen from a security firm CEO is embarrassing’. Wouldn’t know a pretty thing like that if it climbed you.”

“Because it is embarrassing. And I highly recommend you monitor your staff to make sure they don’t do the same.” Of course, Steve knew you were ‘pretty’. Exactly his type, to be honest. He had noticed it the second you stepped into his apartment this morning. The way your hands wrung beneath you. And he had shot you a teasing remark in hopes of discovering a sassy fire in those timid doe eyes of yours. But you had stumbled over your words like a fawn.

Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Nonsense. Peggy is great - and too old to even carry anything valuable out of my place. I trust her with my life and house keys.” And then he pushed off the sill. “I think it’s time for you to get laid again. And that’s why I’m a great friend and organized dinner and drinks with Tony and Sam tonight.”

Steve fell back in his chair, hands over his eyes. “I don’t need your wing-maning me. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, Buck.”

“You can thank me later.” He stout towards the door. “You know... after you’ve been devoured by the pretty little waitress at the Ironbar.” Bucky winked before his face disappeared again.

Steve just huffed as his eyes landed back on the weekly report on his desk and then swayed back to his computer screen.

As unwilling as he was to admit it, it had been some time since his last late-night rendezvous. And as he saw you crawl up on his bed to place the bedsheets properly along his mattress, he felt his pants tighten slightly.

❁ ❁ ❁

“We’ll get one more round of the good stuff.”

“Of course Mr. Stark.” Tony winked and patted his waitress’s butt before she stalked away on her high heels and towards the locked glass cabinet behind the bar.

Steve had designed it himself, a fiberglass shrine-like display for ridiculously expensive liquors, only to be opened by a passcode that got regenerated every week. He watched as Betty - the young and lanky waitress - retrieved a crystal bottle of whiskey and filled four glasses with the golden liquid.

“God, I love that thing,” Tony sighed next to Steve and watched Betty with a satisfied smile.

“You better be talking about that cabinet, Stark.” Steve shook his head with a frown only to receive a wink from Tony, who was sitting closest to him at the round table.

“So...” Bucky leaned over to Steve and spoke in a hushed voice. “You see anything you like?” He gestured at the bar where Tony’s carefully picked waitresses passed with filled and emptied glasses and bottles. They were all wearing tight black t-shirts and skirts or shorts that counted just as scandalous. One could foolishly mistake this place for a Hooters if Tony hadn’t made it one of the most pristine bars in all of New York City.

It was popular amongst the clientele which mainly consisted of bored rich men that came here to get something to look at without being judged for it. But Steve wasn’t feeling the girls today. When Betty shoved her breasts in his field of view, all he could think about was how he had never gotten the idea to get his maids a uniform that catered to his... liking. And when Betty swayed her hips on her way to the bar, his thoughts became clouded by the image of you in a short little skirt, riding up just a little to tease I’m about what was hidden underneath when you kneeled on his bed to get the sheets sorted.

Steve adjusted his pants at the little flashback, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Oh, apparently you have...” Bucky grinned before his eyes hushed down to Steve’s crotch and back up just as fast. “Well then,” he leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Which one is it? Samatha? Tiffany? Though I think Megan is more your type.”

“Just shut up, punk.”

“Okay you don’t have to tell me me... either way, my job here is done.” He brushed his hands off fake dust and smiled smugly. “You better be in a good mood tomorrow.”

Steve just huffed and waited for Betty to come back with ‘the good stuff’ to hopefully drown out his annoying friends for the rest of the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. No, he would do anything for the people he chose to have in his life. The group he found himself in right now had been through thick and thin with him, stayed through his fame and fortune, and was just as supportive before it had all happened to either of them. He was happy having the guys because they built each other up and aimed for greatness - together, they were fucking invincible.

But sometimes, Steve felt a little out of place amongst Bucky and Tony. It was in situations regarding women most of all because he could never adapt the attitude to talk about them the way they did. And he never had the headspace to juggle as many as they did. He had tried the one-night stands. But he struggled to navigate the superficial pleasure maze New York City provided in masses. Because just as the ever-passing smiles on the streets, it wasn’t fulfilling enough for Steve. At least not in the way it was for his friends.

He wanted what Sam had. A partner, a family, something constant and beautiful. And that was, why he found himself asking for pictures of Sam’s kids and nephews rather than listen to Tony’s latest bed bunny endeavor whenever the conversations took a turn in that direction.

“Earth to Rogers,” Sam’s finger snapped in front of Steve’s face. “What this I’m hearing? You got a new maid? What happened to the old one?”

“She sold his stuff on Craigslist.” Bucky snorted and took a sip of the drink that had magically appeared in front of them.

“You aren’t serious.”

“I really liked that tie,” Steve grumbled into his cup.

“Man, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with things like that. You rich people really are a different breed.”

“You’re rich, too, Sam.”

Sam just smiled above his crystal glass, having fun with the little joke he liked to pull for ages now. He wasn’t any less successful than any of the other men at their table. But other than them, he had settled in a beautiful neighborhood - despising the concrete jungle each of the other guys lived in. His house felt like home, like a cozy place that had seen love and time and nothing like the polished and sleek man caves the rest of them owned.

“Well, anyways, my amazing assistant organized him a new one, the prettiest thing - really. But he’s refusing to see it.”

Tony chuckled. “Well, that's Rogers in a nutshell, isn’t it.”

Sam just pursed his lips and glanced over at Steve with a soft smile, ignoring the comments of the other guys. They never explicitly talked about it, but Sam was a smart man, and it would have surprised Steve, had he not already figured out that he was more of a family man than their friends were as of right now.

“To new maids that aren’t selling your clothes on the internet then.” He raised his drink and winked at Steve once their glasses clinked.

And Steve? He visibly exhaled, silently thanking Sam for pulling the tension out of their conversation.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had been a little over a week. And so far, things had been going great.

By now, you had cleaned through the entire place once and set up a plan of what to do on which day. You weren’t surprised it actually took a full 6 days to cover every single room in Mr. Rogers’s apartment. You had already figured out which tasks were going to be your favorite and which weren’t. Like his bedroom. You liked doing that. Because even though the sheets were a bitch to get on the ginormous bed, you kind of liked the smell the room had. His pillows smelled of the cologne you couldn’t forget ever since the man had brushed past you on your very first day.

You were pretty sure you would never forget that since your knees literally felt like giving in at that moment.

Today, it was bedroom day. That and the on-suite.

With a smile on your face, you entered the apartment on the top floor, each day secretly hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the CEO before he took off to work. But even though you tried to arrive ten minutes earlier (you really couldn’t spare any more sleep for your own good), the first day remained an exception in Mr. Rogers’s daily schedule.

You placed your bag on the stool at the open kitchen island, changed into some other shoes, and headed for the supply closet. Despite the size of the place, you actually got around pretty easily. Mr. Rogers was a very organized and neat man - you’d noticed that the first and only time you met him. So things were almost always where you’d think they would be. Which made your job just that much easier. But also prevented you from the advised ‘not snooping’ you desperately wanted to do.

You knew better though.

People like Steve Rogers probably had cameras installed in this place. And you would certainly not go and rummage through his underwear drawer after he had personally told you not to. Who knows what strings powerful people like him could pull. So, for the sake of not waking up on a cargo ship to Madagascar one day, you restrained yourself as much as possible.

Of course, you didn’t stop your eyes from wandering whenever you swept the shelves in his walk-in closet or closed the drawers in his office space. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And this girl had a nosy best friend on her back that wanted to know every little detail of her new job... and was also way too invested in celebrity gossip.

Though, as always, there was nothing out of the ordinary today - there never was. Sure, it was still exciting to see how the filthy rich lived but other than that, no scandalous collection of women’s underwear, or drug lord papers lying around. You started to believe that Steven Grant Rogers was a very boring man. Not that you could properly judge in your position, seeing as you did not really know him, but the whole being in his home seemed a little too intimate not to do so.

So that day you finished the tasks for the day, packed your stuff, and made your way back home, hoping to see him in the morning or to at least find something more interesting than dust in his home.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve greeted the concierge of his building when he entered the marbled entree hall. With a little frown and a look at his watch, the man greeted him back before he resumed his work.

Yes, Steve was home earlier than usual. He regularly stayed even longer than his original work schedule intended. Today, however, he was home even earlier. But after another banter with Bucky about Steve’s non-existent sex life, he couldn’t imagine making it past five in the same building as his persistent best friend. So, he fled the office and decided to work through the rest of his papers at home.

Of course, Steve knew that Bucky only wanted the best for him. But the ways he tried to approach the supposed bothersome loneliness Steve had in his bed just weren’t for Steve. Those might have worked on Tony - hell, Tony probably invented setting his friends up with one-night-stands - but not on Steve.

He huffed and swiped some loose hairs from his forehead as the elevator dinged at the top floor. The doors opened to the window front of his penthouse apartment and Steve stepped over the threshold, immediately stopping in his tracks when he took in the scene before him.

The vacuum was running while you were kneeling on the floor, wiping up some water he only assumed came from the vase missing next to his sofa. He would have found it rather amusing if it weren’t for the way you carried yourself today. Something wasn’t right.

Steve knew that you weren’t usually this messy - that much he could tell from the livestream that had become a constant in his office by now. Your head hung low, your motions hurried and sloppy. He watched as you swiped the floor, one of your sleeves constantly slipping down your arm again until you angrily pushed it up further than necessary.

It was worrisome.

He couldn’t place the feeling he felt in his chest when he sat his briefcase down and approached you from behind. His foot carefully turned off the vacuum and then he stood still, careful not to startle you when you finally looked up at him.

He could see it in your eyes then. The panic, the uncertainty, and something else he hadn’t seen in them before.

You looked around you as if you were seeing the mess for the first time and when Steve was still watching you with an arched brow after a minute of silence, you suddenly sprung up to your feet.

“I am so Sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize it was this late already.” You turned a full 360 until your eyes landed on his again. “I’ll have this cleaned up in no time and I'll be out of your way. I promise.”

Steve watched as you scrambled to gather the vacuum cord, struggling with it when it didn’t immediately snap back into the caster. “The subway was stuck in a tunnel for an hour because some guy decided to pull the emergency break for fun. And then this lady passed out next to me and when the fire department finally got us out and the paramedics packed her in the ambulance, I realized that I still had her purse.” You finally got the cord in turning so fast that the wet rag in your hands sprayed some water on Steve. “And do you know how difficult it is to find out which hospital they’re taking people? Because it’s so much more difficult than it looks in the movies. I didn’t know that! And then it was almost 10 a.m. when I got here. I am so sorry. This won’t happen again I promise-“

“Hey,” Steve finally stepped forward and caught your flailing hands with his and it shut you up. “It’s alright.” He spoke softly, guiding your hands down and proceeding to carefully stroke your arms down. “Are you okay? Do you need a day off?”

Your doe eyes stared up at him, round and shiny as if you couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of you. And Steve had to admit, besides the concern breezing through his body, your face was capturing up close. He traced your lashes with his gaze, the way your lips were parted slightly, your teeth showing past your upper lip, and the way your eyebrows were raised in shock.

“No... no, I’m fine.” You finally stammered and it made Steve relax a little.

“Then take a breath for me, please.” You nodded and Steve watched as your shoulders moved when you inhaled with your eyes closed. It shook Steve out of his trance. He cleared his throat and retreated his hands from your arms, awkwardly standing up a little straighter now that there was no excuse to touch you anymore.

You were fine - that’s what you had said. But you didn’t quite seem that way.

He watched as you opened your eyes and gifted him a small smile. Then your gaze dew to the floor and the mess you were standing in. Your smile turned awkward.

“I’ll clean this up real quick and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Steve shook his head with a smile. Maybe this was a nice opportunity to do as Bucky had suggested. It was true, Steve hadn’t been interested enough before. Had he taken more time to know his former maids better, he could have probably prevented his things from being stolen and sold. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what Bucky had meant by ‘interested’, but Save decided it would do for now. “You can do what you need to and you can take as much time as you need to. I’ll be in my office for some time, so please don’t rush. I didn’t mean to freak you out by coming home earlier.”

His arms reached up to scratch the back of his neck and your eyes landed on his bicep. Those damn doe eyes. “O- okay.”

He nodded, buried his hands in his pockets, gifted you a tight-lipped smile, and then proceeded to grab his briefcase and disappear into his office at the end of the hall.

After some time, he heard the vacuum pick back up. Steve peaked through his open office door and caught a glimpse of you roaming his living room every now and then. It was relieving to know that you were functioning again. You had him worried for a second there - a feeling the successful CEO hadn’t welcomed in a hot minute. But it was kind of nice, made him feel a little more human than usual. So he didn’t mind having you work while he was home. On the contrary, actually, even though he had a huge stack of papers to go through, having to do them with a little bit of white noise was much more efficient than he had thought. He liked it when the occasional sound of items being set down snook its way to his office just to be interrupted by the vacuum again. And before he knew it, the workload he had taken home with him today, was worked through.

Steve made his way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Though, as he waited for the machine, he found himself leaning against the counter and watching you work in front of him. You were currently bent over the sofa, arranging the cushions after shaking them out, your shirt riding up ever so slightly and exposing a strip of skin on your back.

The fresh grounding of coffee beans covered the way Steve gulped loudly at the sight of you in front of him. This was definitely different than watching on his laptop screen. He felt his pants tighten ever so slightly as he imagined walking up to you and just taking you from behind. Your face would press into the pillows as he would easily push into you, hearing your drawn-out moans through the cushions.

He couldn’t help himself, you were just so pretty.

The smell of coffee drew Steve back to reality. It wasn’t that simple. Because Steve wanted you to want him as well. But you didn’t know him well enough yet.

You pulled the vacuum around the corner and seconds later the sound of the storage room door closing echoed through the apartment. You walked back into the living room, adjusted the book on his coffee table, and then looked at your work with your hands on your hips. It was kind of cute to watch, Steve had to admit.

“Well done,” Steve praised and your shoulders jerked in surprise.

“Woah, didn’t see you there, Sir.” You relaxed again and then moved to change your shoes, before packing the other pair in your bag. You looked like you were about to leave, but Steve didn’t want that.

“Would you like some coffee?” He offered and turned to grab the mug that was just filled with the steaming hot beverage.

But you shook your head, raising your hands. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m sure you’ve got work to do...”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it were an inconvenience.”

You looked down and nodded, which made Steve smile and hand you the cup. Your hands encased it like it was a cold winter's day, timid looks roaming the room and landing everywhere but him.

“You seem uncomfortable,” he tried, cautious not to intrude.

“I’m not. It’s just that... I’m not used to,” you gestured around the kitchen, “all this.”

“I know it sounds stupid but sometimes I feel the same.” Steve took in the high ceilings and shiny surfaces, the expensive paintings and furniture he had no part in picking out.

You just stared at him again before nodding and averting your eyes once more. It seemed like you were holding back, but Steve didn’t feel like he was in the position to ask. So he just had to do with your fleeting glances and diffident presence. It was fine for now. Though he didn’t know if he could actually stand it for long.

“You got this job through Bucky’s assistant, right?”

“Natasha, yes. She’s my best friend.” Your eyes lit up and Steve celebrated the little victory in silence. He had finally found something to talk about with you.

“How long have you known each other?” He took a sip of his own coffee, acting indifferent, though his gaze hung on your lips.

“We’ve been friends since high school. But then we went to different colleges and for a moment, we lost contact. But when I called her after graduation, we reconnected. We coincidentally both moved to New York. It’s nice to have her back.”

“That does sound nice. I know a thing or two about reconnecting with old friends.” Steve smiled reminiscent.

“Right, your business partner. Mr. Barnes.” You set your mug down when Steve shot you a surprised look. “Sorry, but it’s hard not to know things about you when every tabloid in the country has covered your story.”

Steve nodded, being reminded once again how different his life was now. Not that he didn’t appreciate it... it just used to be simpler.

“Yes, Bucky is my oldest friend... we’d lost contact in-between as well. Now we spend so much time together, I sometimes wish it was that way again.”

“You don’t mean that,” you laughed and Steve swore it was the prettiest he’d ever heard.

“Of course not.” He set his cup down once he noticed that you had finished your coffee and had grabbed your bag from the stool.

“I should go,” you smiled sadly and Steve just nodded with a similar expression on his face. Then he pushed off the counter and walked you to the elevator. He caught your small wave before the doors closed, leaving his stomach feeling warm and fuzzy.

This was definitely new.

❁ ❁ ❁

The next week was pure torture.

Steve couldn’t work from home like he had wanted to. He also couldn’t go to work later to at least catch a ‘good morning’ from you.

It had only lasted a couple more days. He had managed to trap you for a conversation with coffee two times after the first one and then it all went downhill from there.

Steve’s work seemed to pile up in unusual amounts of papers on his desk. His e-mails and meetings were longer than ever and his frustrations built with every new message Sharon redirected to his phone.

It wasn’t until Bucky pointed out how unusually grumpy he was, that Steve realized, he missed you. How could that have happened? He barely knew you and talked to you even less than that. But he knew he was missing you. Because as silly as it sounded, the time he spent with you, he was more relaxed than ever before.

“I’m headed home, now. Do you need anything before I go?” Sharon popped her head through the door of Steve’s office after the knock she placed there.

Steve just sighed as he closed one of a dozen tabs on his computer. Then he shook his head. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early!” She beamed and Steve just waved her off.

The door fell shut once again and Steve moved to close a second tab. The one open beneath was the video footage of his home. It was paused because Steve had categorized it as ‘not suited for work’ once he saw you climb on his bed to straighten out the sheets and his dick reminded him just how deprived he really was.

Looking at the paused video now, his pants tightened again. There you were, on all fours on his bed, tugging the sheet under the headboard side of his mattress - ass up and struggling. Fucking hell.

His hand instinctively moved to his crotch to relieve some tension and then his eyes fell to his office door. Sharon had gone home. He was likely the only one left. His gaze wandered back to his computer screen and before he knew it, he was rubbing his hard cock through his pants.

He groaned lowly at the feeling spreading through his body, the image on his screen just intensifying the scenarios he usually imagined when he got himself off. Because now they had your face. And your perfect body. If he squinted at the screen, he could actually see a sliver of your underwear peaking out the top of your pants.

“Jesus Christ,” He pushed through his teeth when his hands worked to open his belt and pulled his rock-hard length out. He was already leaking from the angry red tip.

His thumb grazed over his sensitive flesh, spreading the beads of precum and his whole body shivered when he imagined you doing it instead. His knees spread further apart in his office chair as he squeezed the base of his cock, concentrating on his breathing to slow. And then, without thinking, his other hand moved to play the video.

Steve’s eyes never left the screen as he watched you tug the sheets tight. Your ass bounced up and down with the motion and he began to pump his shaft, imagining pushing into you from behind. Then you crawled back slowly, careful not to pull the sheet off again, but one corner came loose anyway. As you leaned forward, your new position seemed even more obscene - with your arms stretched forward and your ass still slightly lifted off the mattress.

Steve’s fist pumped harder up and down his cock, he was panting. He could already feel the orgasm building. His balls were on the edge of bursting - but he wanted to hold out a little longer.

For a second, his gaze jumped to the little speaker icon at the bottom right corner of his screen. His right hand still pumping with a tight grip, the left moved to slightly turn up the volume on the stream.

Just then, you released a frustrated groan, followed by a throatier, softer noise that could almost be mistaken for a moan and Steve lost it. His fist stroked his thick cock in hard fast motions, the tingle in his body building with every heavy breath you released. His thumb grazed over his tip when you fell forward like a fawn and it was enough to make him burst.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back on the chair. With a last firm push, he tumbled over the edge, squeezing his flesh as he felt the hot ropes of cum cover his hand. His heart beat in his ears once the ecstasy subsided, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

Steve stared at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He was in deep now.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So... how’s it going?” Nat’s voice rang through your speaker and you pressed your phone a little harder to your ear to hear her over the street noises.

“It’s going really good. I don’t see him that often but he’s not messy at all, so it’s really not that bad.”

“Good, I’m glad!” Nat cheered on the other end of the line and you could hear her computer keys clicking beneath her fingernails. “Anything you wanna tell me?” Her tone was suggestive, and you kind of hated how well she knew you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, we’re stating the obvious here. He’s hot!”

“Nat!” You gasped appalled. “I’m not going around asking you if you think your boss is hot.”

“Why not? I'm not ashamed to admit it. My boss is hot,” she stated plainly and shorty after a distant ‘You got that right, doll!’ was heard through your speaker.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, watching around you as if anyone could hear what Nat was saying.

“So...?”

“Okay, yes he’s super hot and I wish he would just grab me with his big muscled arms and kiss the life out of me every time I see him. Are you happy now?”

“Yes, very.”

You waved at the concierge when you reached Mr. Roger’s apartment building and then stepped into the elevator. “Good. I can’t believe I just made me say that out loud.”

“We both know it’s true. No shame in a little crush.” You could practically hear her grin through the phone and it just annoyed you even more. How could she call you out when she was a mile away?

“Great, now I’m actually imagining kissing him and running my hands down his chest,” You huffed as the elevator door opened and turned the corner just to stop in your tracks.

“I knew it!”

“Nat, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, but-“ and then you ended the call as your eyes were glued to the kitchen counter.

You stepped closer, your eyes never leaving where they had landed upon your arrival. There, on the polished black marble, stood a vase with a beautiful bouquet of pastel flowers.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your fingers traced the colorful petals, and you leaned in to smell them. This was so sweet! A little giddiness shot through your body at the sight of the flowers. You’d never expected them from Mr. Rogers and it was nice to be appreciated.

Feeling excitement all over, your fingers reached for the little white card lodged between a eucalyptus branch. But when you turned it over, all of it fell like someone had turned on gravity again.

Happy one month!

Your mind repeated the words over and over again until they registered.

Happy one month.

You dropped the card and it made a dull clicking noise on the counter. How could you have been so naïve? Nat had put this stupid haze in your brain, getting you all giddy and excited. Of course, he had a fucking girlfriend. How could he not? He was Steve fucking Rogers.

You needed to take a step back and breathe. Those were a few too many emotions to feel in the early morning for you. Now you even felt guilty about wanting to run your fingers down his body. God, you’d even said it out loud - how embarrassing!

“Okay, girl. Relax. Nobody heard,” you reminded yourself out loud. And then you took a deep breath with your eyes closed.

“It’s not embarrassing if nobody saw. I’m the only one that can decide the level of awkwardness here.” Maybe stop talking to yourself then. You nodded and carefully placed the card back in the bouquet.

“This never happened,” you whispered, more so to ensure yourself. “Just move on with your day.”

Thank god it wasn’t kitchen day - you wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of those flowers any longer.

With your shoulders pulled back and your head held high, you made your way to the supply closet and got to work.

It’s just another day. You reminded yourself when you pulled your cleaning supplies out and into the office.

Just like any other day...

❁ ❁ ❁

Boy, had you never been any more wrong.

Your phone rang at 7.30 that evening. You had already made yourself comfortable on your sofa, ready to binge a whole season of Gilmore Girls, after a successful day of pretending you hadn’t gotten the biggest turn-down of the century this morning. You had finished your cleaning plan, you had gone grocery shopping, bought yourself some own damn flowers, and even showered all before the sun had set.

But now your phone rang and the caller ID could not mean anything good.

“Hello?”

“Good evening!” Your name echoed through the speaker of your phone, a - for your taste - way too cheery woman on the other end. “I am very sorry I have to call so late. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“That’s alright, what do you need?” You bit your lip nervously, only dreading the next words of Mr. Rogers’s assistant.

“Well, actually it is not I that needs anything. Mr. Rogers requested for you to see him. Is that possible?”

“What? When?”

“Now would be amazing.” Your eyes widened at her words. Mr Rogers wanted to see you and it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? You must have done something horribly wrong. Oh, god, had he noticed you messed with the flowers? Had he seen you sniff his pillows? All possible scenarios of wrongdoing swarmed your head when you sprung up and bolted for your closet.

“I can be there in thirty minutes,” you hurried through the speaker just to receive a satisfied hum from the other end.

“Amazing! Thank you so much.”

She had hung you before you could even answer. It didn’t matter. You looked through your clothes, trying to decide what an appropriate ‘getting fired’ outfit would consist of - probably no sweatpants, so you could find the closest bar and drink your sorrows away in connection to the dreaded talk.

You pulled out something, you could see yourself crying in and headed for the door.

❁ ❁ ❁

8.00 pm on the dot, the elevator doors opened to reveal a beautiful New York Skyline. Unfortunately, you neither had the headspace, nor the time to appreciate it properly. As soon as you turned the corner you saw Mr. Rogers casually leaning on the kitchen island.

Instantly, you felt intimidated. He had never done anything to make you feel scared or in danger, but his mere presence was so powerful, you didn’t quite know how to act around him. Especially, because on top of it all, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“What did I do?” It just sprung out of you, your arms wanted to hug your body but you willed them still. He didn’t need to see how worried you really were.

To your surprise, however, his face scrunched up in amusement instead. He pushed himself off the counter and gestured towards the flowers still standing proud on that polished marble top.

“You forgot your flowers.”

“My... my flowers?” He nodded with a small frown, probably confused by your reaction. And to be honest, you were too.

“Yes... I got you flowers. You’ve officially been working here for a month. That’s a record.” He shook his head with a chuckle and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m... very picky.”

His eyes met yours and a whole new wave of uncertainty washed over you. You didn’t miss the hesitation in his tone, the carefully chosen wording for something he didn’t exactly say.

“So, I’m not fired.” God, why did it take so long for you to register. You just looked so stupid right now.

“On the contrary.” Mr. Rogers took a step closer, though still keeping a respectable distance. “I think I can trust you. I’m very pleased with your work. You deserve them.”

“I do?” You looked up at him with big eyes when he took another step closer. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up now that he was so near.

“Can I trust you?”

His chest would almost touched you, if you were to breathe any heavier. Your breath hitched in your throat when the faint remains of his perfume reached your nose. It was as intoxicating - the way his eyes stared down at you - intense and looming. “Ye- Yes.”

“Good.” His voice was a raw timbre. His gaze drifted to the side, where his hand slowly reached up to lay on your shoulder. You felt warm and tingly from the touch.

Not knowing what to do exactly, you just held your breath and stared up at his eyes. They were so blue - and up close, they were so much more captivating than any magazine photograph could ever display.

You wanted to touch him, reach out, and pull him down towards you, but he had just told you he trusted you. Were you really going to risk this perfectly good job for a heated moment?

His other hand came up to graze your cheek with a careful touch and the worry of losing your job suddenly became very small. Mr. Roger’s hands were warm, his fingers almost hot even compared to your heated face.

So you did it. Your hand reached forward and landed on the top of his chest, one of them traveled down the hard plane of his torso while the other clawed at his shirt collar. His thumb traveled to your lower lip, pulling it down and then stroking over the soft flesh, touching your teeth as well.

Guided by the heat traveling through our body, your right hand tightened around his shirt and pulled him down and onto your lips. The blonde man jerked forward until his mouth crashed onto yours, immediately moving in perfect sync with yours.

Your insides were tingling from the kiss when you felt his lips pull into a smile. His big hands roamed your body until they snook around your back, pulling you flush against his body and making you sigh contently.

Mr. Rogers chuckled and then kissed you deeper. His touch was everywhere, yours too. Your mind was free of anything that wasn’t the tall, built, blonde man in your arms as soon as his tongue traced your bottom lip - asking for you to let him in. And you did just that. When he began to explore your mouth, you melted even further into his embrace.

No man had ever kissed you like that. Which was why you dreaded the moment you had to pull away for air.

Your hand landed on his cheek, thumb softly stroking his beard, eyes locked with his.

“You’re very good at this.”

He just chuckled and pecked your lips once more. “Up.” He demanded, suddenly, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you as if you weighed nothing.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm gonna show you how good I am at this.”

Then he set you down on the bed and pushed you back until your head hit the comforter. His scent, the one you’d secretly been craving ever since you started working here, engulfed you like a big blanket. He stood above you, big and broad-shouldered, looming over you like a wild animal. But you weren’t scared.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His lips attached to your collarbone, sucking and licking bruises to your skin until you moaned beneath him and your hands clung to his hair. “I’ve been watching you,” he murmured to your neck and a shiver traveled down your spine.

“I knew it,” you gasped when he reached a spot behind your ears that sparked more pleasure. The thought of him spending his day watching you made you all excited and impatient.

“The way you stumble about this place when you clean it... How do you navigate the world being this clumsy, Bambi?” A whimper escaped you at the nickname he chose for you. “You need somebody to take care of you, huh.”

You arched your back to brush up against him. His hard cock was already straining his pants, pressing into your own deliciously. “Ah, yes.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi, I’m right here. I’ll take real good care of you.” His fingers traveled down your body until they reached the hem of your jeans and began to tug on them.

You pulled him down to your lips once more, guiding his head back to that spot behind your ear that had you squirming on the sheets. “So needy.”

His voice was so low and husky now, you barely noticed he had already worked your pants open and halfway down your legs. You kicked them off the rest of the way and arched yourself back against him just to have him grind down on your core.

“Feel so good, so big,” you mumbled through the haze you already found yourself in. God, what was it with this man - he was out of this world.

“You can’t wait any longer, can you, Bambi?” His hands moved beneath your shirt and began to massage your breasts. “But I get it. I don’t wanna wait any longer, either.”

In a swift motion, he had you flipped on your stomach, his hands traveling to your hips to pull you on all fours in front of him. Then the bed dipped and you felt his fingers press to your soaked underwear. He rubbed the drenched fabric over your entrance, only driving you wild with need when his fingers reached higher to your clit. “So pretty.”

“I need you,” you whined, “need you so bad.”

“Believe me, I need you too.” He pulled the black lace over the curve of your ass and you felt the cool bedroom air hit your wet core, only making you shiver once more.

“You’re so fucking perfect, you know that.” You could only whimper in response when his hand pushed your head into the comforter and his face suddenly pressed into your pussy from behind.

“Oh, god.” A yelp escaped you as his tongue teased at your entrance, only to be pulled back to lick a long strip from your clit back to it. His hand massaged your cheeks and the constant moaning to your core shook you from the inside out.

“This isn’t enough, is it, Bambi?” He dragged a strong finger up your spine. “You need me to fill you all the way up, don’t you? Need me to mark you, show everyone you’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, fill me up, give it all to me. Fuck me and make me yours.” You were so desperate at this point. His mouth had you squirming and aching for the promising bulge beneath his pants and you couldn’t wait to feel him raw - you’d let him do anything.

You turned your head and watched as he unbuckled his belt. Within seconds, his cock sprung free from its restraints and your breath hitched in your throat. He was thick and long, a prominent vein running along his side up to his tip, pink and already decorated by a bead of precum. Of course, Steve Rogers had a pretty cock. What wasn’t perfect about him?

“You’re so wet already, Bambi. So ready for my fat cock, aren’t you? You’ll suck me right in, I just know it.”

“Please! I wanna feel all of you.” Another whimper got swallowed by the mattress when you waited in anticipation for him to finally fuck you.

His one hand grabbed your ass and the other aligned his cock with your entrance. You could feel his head already breaching, a delicious stretch sending shocks through your body in hot and cold waves of pleasure.

He groaned lowly and it sent shivers down your spine. “Relax, baby girl. You’re so tight. You’ll be so stuffed with me.”

“I need you de-. I- ah just please!”

He worked himself forward with small rocking motions, each time reaching a little deeper into your core and when you thought he was finally all the way in, he pushed even further until your ass was pressed flush to his thighs.

You screamed into the covers and reached for something to grasp when he groaned behind you. “Gripping me like a vice, Bambi. Are you gonna be able to take it?” He shivered behind you and you could tell he was struggling to hold still until you answered him.

“I can take it. Your big cock feels so good inside me. Oh, god, please move.”

“Fuck.” Wet noises filled the room when he drew back almost all the way, just to slam back into you. In this position the curve of his cock stroked your walls perfectly, making it hard to hold back the building orgasm.

“I’m so close already, sir. I’m-”

“Fucking call me Steve,” he roared and pushed your face further into the covers. “You gonna come? Gonna squeeze my cock with your pretty little pussy already, huh?”

You could only whimper in response, the steady stroke of his body clouded your mind until you felt like you were floating.

“I-“Another scream ripped through your speech when the pleasure exploded within you. Steve slowed his motions, seemingly unable to move with the way your muscles contracted around him. And when the pulsing pleasure lessened after what felt like minutes, he picked his pace back up again.

“That was so sexy. You gonna do that again for me? I’m so fucking close.”

His hand reached around you and began to massage your clit in tight little circles and your body lifted off the bed. Steve had pulled you up flush against his chest and watched his hand work on your clit over your shoulder.

“’S too much! Ah!” You were still pulsing around his cock with every circle he traced on your bundle of nerves, making your legs quiver.

“You’re doing so good, Bambi. You can give me another. Milk my cock dry.” He kissed your neck and bit your skin. “So fucking beautiful, how’d I get so lucky?”

“Steve!” You felt another wave of pleasure approaching, just for his fingers to still on your clit, his hand now pressing into your stomach.

“I’m almost there, baby. Hold it a little longer.” His face fell into your neck and you could feel his cock twitch inside you while his hot breath licked down your shoulder. “Don’t you fucking cum until I say so.”

“I don’t know if I-“

“Yes, you can!” Steve pushed you until you fell onto all fours again and then guided your hips to meet his hard strokes. His movements became frantic and fast, making you lose your mind.

“I’m gonna fill you to the brim, Bambi. Make you drip with my cum for days. You’re mine.”

“Steve! Steve!” You couldn’t hold it any longer, it was too much. He was so big, and his movements so fast, there was no way you were lasting any longer.

“Wait. Almost there.”

“I can’t. I can’t! I’m- Oh my god!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck.” With one last hard slam, Steve shot his hot seed in your pussy. Your walls clenched with every lewd sound he pushed through his heavy breaths. “Cumming so much for you, Bambi. All for you. Uhnggghh.” He rutted into you a couple more times and once the intense feeling faded into lazy pulses, he fell forward and pulled you into his chest.

Still buried deep within you, Steve pulled the covers over your bodies. Every little movement made you squirm and your pussy clench down again, drawing small grunts from the man behind you.

“You did so good.” His hand stroked over your hair and his face nuzzled into your shoulder. “Now, rest. You deserve it.”

And with that, you let your body fall into its well-needed sleep - warm, content, and without a care for the morning.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve woke up to the sound of his alarm. He smiled before he opened his eyes, his mind still reminiscing the night before. He felt warm and content at the thought of it. Your kiss was like nothing else.

He felt around his bed blindly after turning off the alarm only to be met by a cold mattress. Opening his eyes, he called out your name and sat up in bed. But when no answer sounded from his apartment, he got up and looked for you. After a few minutes of searching, he was sure you weren’t there. And it worried him. He had planned to order you breakfast. He wanted to talk about last night. He wanted to tell you how much it had meant to him.

A look at the clock on his wall made him frown. Maybe you’d gone home to change for work. He decided to wait and get to work a little later today. It would all resolve itself, Steve was sure.

But when seven rolled around, there was no sign of you. And even after another 25 minutes, there was no indication you’d show up soon. Steve really couldn’t push his time anymore. There was a lot of work waiting for him at the office. So he got up and grabbed his briefcase, only to be interrupted by his phone.

“Good morning, Sharon.”

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers. I’m just calling to let you know your maid just called in sick.”

“What? Until when?”

“She didn’t say. But she’ll call when she is better.”

“Do you know what she has?”

“I believe that’s private. Mr. Rogers.”

Steve just hummed absentmindedly. His brain already playing all the possibilities in his head.

“Would you be so kind so send me her number?” He asked almost hesitantly, but still demanding enough for Sharon to agree right away.

“Of course, one second.” And then his phone pinged with a message from his assistant.

“Thank you.” Sharon just hummed in response and then she hung up the phone, ever the busy assistant he knew her as.

Steve didn’t hesitate to call you right away. With every peep. His heart hammered faster in his chest. And when he was about to give up, a familiar rustling rang through his speaker.

“Hello?”

Steve took a second to breathe and then he said your name - steady but careful.

“Mr Rogers,” you sounded surprised, and Steve tried to suppress the sting in his heart at the sound of his last name. You had called him Steve just last night. Why’d you stop?

“Yes... I heard you’re sick. Do you need anything?” He cringed the second he said it. You obviously didn’t want anything from him given that you had fled from his apartment before he even woke up this morning.

“No, no. I’m good thank you.” There was an awkward tension in the static connecting the two of you. But Steve didn’t understand where it came from. Had you not enjoyed last night. Had he only imagined the affection you gifted him then?

“Well... I hope you are able to come back soon.”

You huffed into the phone. “Uh, yes. Okay.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you.”

“I’ll see you.”

And then the line went dead. And Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you had sounded a lot colder than before...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve had taken the next day off. His mind was too occupied to work, anyway. He had caught himself glimpsing at his video feed several times that day, even though he knew you weren’t going to show. He guessed, somehow that you would appear anyway. It didn’t happen of course.

So today, Steve had to learn to do nothing. That included not thinking of you as well. Because as much as the thought of you distracted him from work, not working wasn’t exactly the best move to get rid of his thoughts.

First, he had tried to stay in bed until 6. That was hard enough. Then, he worked out a bit, read an article, made a smoothie - okay he ordered one - and then he sat on his sofa watching as the clock above his fireplace ticked to 7 a.m.

It was ridiculous. If every hour would pass this slowly, he’d go insane.

His fingers taped on his thigh as he watched the seconds hand tick. He had to do something, anything.

The moment this thought passed his mind, he heard the elevator door ‘ding’ at his level. And before he could even turn around, your bag hit the ground with a loud thud.

Steve stood up straighter, adjusting a tie he was not wearing, but the motion had become a habit. He was excited you’d shown up - visibly well and healthy that was.

You stared at him for a solid minute and neither of you said a word. Your stare was unintelligible to Steve. He had to admit, that he didn’t know you well enough to read into your silent conversation yet, but he wanted to - he wanted to so badly.

His hands moved to clasp in front of him and then he cleared his throat, but as he was about to say something, you moved past him, straight to the supply closet, and then disappeared into his guest bedroom.

He followed you before he could tell his feet to stop, halting in the doorway of the room and watching as you dusted off the tall shelves above the sideboard.

“What are you doing?” His voice was higher than he anticipated.

“I’m working,” you answered bluntly, moving to the next object to dust off.

“Why?” Steve had promised to provide for you just the other night. And, yes, while he might have been hazy from the incredible pleasure you had created, he had meant every word.

You suddenly turned to him with an angry stare. “I’m working because, unlike other people, I can’t just do whatever I want and not deal with the consequences,” you spat and then turned around again. The dusting motion turned a little more aggressive and Steve felt a cold shiver run down his back. Feisty.

Though, Steve couldn’t quite place your anger. Had he said something to offend you? How did the other night play into any consequences and why the hell were you working still? You’d said it yourself, you wanted to be his. And that was all he ever wanted. It just didn’t make sense.

Steve didn’t move. He just stood there like an idiot and watched you work your anger away on the poor dusty decorations of his home. You obviously didn't want to talk to him and he had no idea what to say to you. So he just watched... and watched until at least ten minutes had gone by.

You were at a completely different corner of the room by now, trying to grab a book to dust off, but couldn’t quite reach. Steve had been standing in the doorway this whole time so he just assumed he was blocking your way to a ladder. But he took it as an opportunity instead.

In three Long strides, he had walked up to you, reached for the item you stretched toward, and handed it to you. And for a second there, he could see those doe eyes return to your face, staring up at him.

Maybe he had misread the situation after all because your gaze drew him in again. He slowly closed his eyes before he could reach your lips, excitement rising in his veins when he thought back to the feeling of your lips on his–

*smack*

His eyes shot open when your hand collided with his cheek, a fire flickering in your eyes that made him take a step back, holding his heated skin.

“You don’t have to mock me, okay?! I know it’s embarrassing and it’s stupid what we did, so please don’t make this more difficult.”

“What?” Steve was baffled, hurt.

It was stupid what we did. Your words echoed in his mind until your voice penetrated the mantra.

“Just leave me alone. Don’t you have work to do?”

He shook his head with an aching heart. You really had no idea. You thought he had used you, made you a bed bunny like Tony or Bucky would - he’d never do that. “I called in sick. I was so... forget it.”

You resumed cleaning and Steve just stood in your way watching. His chest stung with every second he spent with his eyes glued to you, knowing what you thought of him. He couldn’t stand it. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable, much less convey he’d only use you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ignored him, but he could see your movements stagger for a second. “Do you really regret what we did?”

Then you paused, your eyes trained to the surface in front of you. When you finally looked at him, Steve could see the tears shimmering in them.

“No,” you whispered softly, Steve had almost missed it had his heart not skipped a beat.

He instinctively stepped closer to you again, though cautious not to scare you away. He’d come this far and didn’t want to mess it all up again. “Then why are you ignoring me?”

“I'm not ignoring you.” It shot out of you like a bullet. You sighed, took another breath, and set the duster down. “We don’t know each other. We live in completely different worlds. There is not one scenario in which we could exist together as anything more than... this. I know that now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you and I’m just the maid.” You gestured to Steve and then yourself and Steve hated the way you degraded yourself just because he had a couple dollars more in his bank account. It wasn’t right.

He shook his head, his hand reaching out to you but dropping just before he could actually touch you, curbing into a soft fist instead. “And what if I told you that you are much more to me than that?” Now he finally dared to lay his hand on your cheek, tilting your head so he could come closer to you and still stare into your eyes. “I like you. And the night– ever since you came into my life, my days seem just so much less dull.”

He smiled with shiny eyes, afraid your silence would last forever. “Please say something, Bambi.”

“You like me?” There was awe and disbelief in your voice and Steve wanted to kiss it away until every last doubt was erased from your mind. Whoever had made you this insecure about affection would eat his fist.

Steve bit his lip to hide the chuckle threatening to spill. “I do.”

He slowly got lost in your eyes again. Those beautiful innocent orbs looked at him like he was a different type of special. He loved it so much.

His gaze dropped to your lips, slightly parted and full, and then back up. And before he could lose himself in them again, your hands latched onto his collar and pulled him down toward you.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, need and desperation melting into sighs and tingles - he could feed off of it forever. His hands roamed your body and pressed you deeper into his. Your arms reached around his neck as your noses bumped against each other in eager anticipation.

Nothing ever felt this right. Steve couldn’t possibly believe you’d doubted the chemistry for a second. Not when it felt like that. But he wouldn’t need to think back on it anymore now... now that he finally had you.

🫵 You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer 💕

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pandapetals · 3 months ago

Text

Sunlight & Sawdust

Chapter Eight: Carnations & Chisels previous chapter | next chapter

Summary: For two years, Joel Miller has done nothing but scowl at you from across the room, barely tolerating your warmth, your kindness, and your ever-present sunshine. And for two years, you’ve told yourself his gruffness doesn’t bother you—that his clipped words and cold stares don’t matter. But then, out of nowhere, he offers to fix the damaged floor in your flower shop for free. Suddenly, the man who could barely stand to look at you is showing up every day, fixing things that don’t need fixing, sharing quiet lunches, and—most shocking of all—getting along with Ellie, your daughter, who has never warmed up to anyone as quickly as she has to him.

Pairing: joel miller x fem!single mom reader - no outbreak/au

Content warnings: slight reader description, no y/n used, grumpy joel, grumpy x sunshine trope, ellie is reader's daughter, reader is a single mom, tommy being a meddler, reader is friends with tommy, au setting in Austin, joel is a carpenter, reader owns a flower shop, fluff, angst and eventual smut, joel is bad at feelings, sarah mentioned

A/N: divider by @saradika-graphics. soooo sorry for the long wait but originally I had only 11 chapters planned and already wrote some of them. then decided to change things and make joel grovel/like show his feelings more.

Joel deserved this.

Hell, he deserved worse. If you had screamed at him, thrown something, cursed his name until your voice broke—maybe then, the guilt wouldn’t be sitting so heavy in his chest. But you hadn’t. You just looked at him, eyes filled with something quiet and aching, before calmly asking him to leave.

That hurt the most, how you could care so much and so little at the same time.

He left like you wanted, but that didn’t mean he stopped thinking about you. In fact, he couldn’t stop. It gnawed at him, kept him awake at night, staring at the ceiling, and prevented him from eating anything more than a few bites before his stomach twisted. The memory of your face, the way your voice stayed so steady even while your eyes gave you away—it haunted him.

Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew why he had pushed you away. It was the same reason he always did.

Loving someone meant losing them.

Maybe not right away, but eventually. One way or another, life had a way of taking. Joel had learned that lesson the hard way, learned it the day he held Sarah’s lifeless body in his arms, her blood soaking into his hands, his shirt, his skin—like if he just held on tight enough, maybe he could keep her here. Perhaps she wouldn’t slip through his fingers like everything else.

But she did, and he had never really let go of her.

Sarah had been his whole damn world. The center of everything. Sure, he had Tommy. And yeah, he loved his brother—would take a bullet for him without hesitation. But Sarah? She was different. She was his little girl, his reason for waking up every morning, the best thing he’d ever done.

Until he blinked, and she wasn’t so little anymore.

Time had slipped through his fingers too fast, moving in ways he couldn’t control. One minute, he was teaching her how to ride a bike, his hands hovering just behind her shoulders, ready to catch her. The next, she was sixteen, holding her brand-new driver's license with that big, proud grin, which made her eyes crinkle at the corners.

He could still hear her voice sometimes. Dad, can I drive? C’mon, you gotta let me practice. She was terrible at first, stopping too hard at red lights, overcorrecting on turns. But she got better. He always knew she would.

Now she’d never drive again.

It hit him like a punch to the gut every time he thought about the things she never got to do. The things she’d been looking forward to. The things he’d been looking forward to.

He wondered what kind of woman she would’ve become. Would she have gone off to college like she’d always talked about? Would she have stayed close to home, still calling him every day just to check in?

Would she have liked you?

Joel exhaled sharply, pressing the heels of his hands against his tired eyes.

Sarah would’ve liked you. Hell, she probably would’ve loved you. She would’ve teased him about how soft he’d gotten, about how much he smiled when you were around.

Maybe that’s why this all hurt so much.

Because as much as he fought it, as much as he tried to keep people at arm’s length, he had started to imagine a future again. A life that wasn’t just about surviving but living. And now, thanks to his own damn stubbornness, he was watching it slip away.

Just like he had with Sarah.

The grief sat heavy in his chest, familiar and suffocating. It never really left him. He just got better at carrying it. But right now, it was pressing down on him with full force, reminding him of everything he’d lost—and everything he was about to lose again if he didn’t do something about it.

That loss had settled into his bones, making a home inside him, whispering in the back of his mind whenever something good came into his life. It told him to keep people at a distance. It told him that caring too much, letting himself get comfortable, was just asking for it to be ripped away.

But then you came along with Ellie. Suddenly, he had something to lose again.

That scared the hell out of him.

So he did what he always did: He pushed, built up walls, and chose the comfort of old habits over the terrifying unknown of letting himself be happy.

Now he was alone.

Joel had spent years surviving, convincing himself that was enough. But now he wasn’t so sure. Because as much as he wanted to believe that losing you would be easier than loving you, his empty bed, his sleepless nights, and the hollowness in his chest told him otherwise.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking idiot.”

Tommy’s voice carried through the dimly lit room as he leaned back against Joel’s worn-out couch, a beer resting lazily in his grip. His tone wasn’t sharp, but it was full of exasperation, like he’d finally been waiting for the right moment to say what needed to be told.

Joel didn’t argue. Didn’t snap back with some sarcastic remark like he usually would. He just sat there, staring at the bottle in his hands like it held all the answers he’d been too damn scared to find.

Tommy took a sip of his beer, watching him. When Joel still said nothing, he exhaled and shook his head. “No witty remark? Nothin’?”

Joel just gave a slight shake of his head, his shoulders slumped, his whole damn body looking tired.

And that’s when Tommy sat up a little straighter, his teasing edge fading.

“Shit, man.” He ran a hand over his beard, eyes narrowing as he studied his older brother. “I knew you liked her, but this is worse than I realized.”

Joel let out a humorless chuckle, dragging a hand down his face. “Ain’t about what I feel.”

Tommy scoffed. “Like hell it ain’t. You think I don’t see what’s goin’ on here? You think I don’t know you, Joel? You’re pushin’ her away ‘cause you’re scared.”

Joel’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t deny it.

Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Man, I know you. I know how you get. You think if you keep people at arm’s length, it’ll hurt less when they leave. But you’re wrong. It just means you end up alone.”

Joel exhaled slowly, gripping his beer tighter. He hated that Tommy was right.

“I lost Sarah.” His voice was quieter now, rough, like the words were scraping his throat on their way out. “And I—” He stopped, shaking his head like he didn’t want to finish the thought.

Tommy sighed, setting his beer down on the coffee table with a small thud. “I know you did, Joel.” His voice softened. “And I know that kinda loss—it doesn’t ever go away. But she’s not Sarah. Neither is Ellie. They ain’t replacin’ her.”

Joel swallowed hard, staring down at his hands.

Tommy sighed again, but he wasn’t as frustrated this time. “Listen, man… You think you’re protectin’ yourself. Maybe even protectin’ them. But all you’re doin’ is makin’ everyone miserable—including yourself.” He shook his head. “She likes you, Joel. And if you don’t do somethin’ about it, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your goddamn life.”

Joel closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deep, trying to keep himself together.

Tommy leaned back again, taking another sip of his beer before muttering under his breath, “Dumbass.”

Joel let out a small, bitter chuckle. “Yeah.”

Tommy glanced at him. “So what’re you gonna do about it?”

Joel didn’t have an answer. Hell, he wasn’t sure there was an answer.

It had been two days since you asked him to leave your shop—two days of silence, of walking around with a weight in his chest that wouldn’t let up. He’d thought giving you space was the right thing to do, but all it had done was leave him stewing in his own regrets.

What was there to do?

Showing up unannounced felt wrong. He didn’t want to push you if you weren’t ready to talk to him. Didn’t want to make you feel like he was forcing himself back into your life when you’d been so damn clear about needing him out of it.

But at the same time…

The thought of doing nothing was unbearable.

Joel exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I dunno, Tommy.” His voice came out rough, tired. “She doesn’t wanna see me. Ain’t like I can just waltz in and—” He gestured vaguely. “Fix it.”

Tommy sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Joel, I know this is hard for you, but you gotta quit makin’ excuses.”

Joel shot him a glare, but Tommy wasn’t wrong.

“I ain’t makin’ excuses.” He clenched his jaw, looking away. “Just don’t wanna make it worse.”

Tommy scoffed. “Worse than sittin’ around feelin’ sorry for yourself?”

Joel didn’t answer.

Because, yeah. Maybe Tommy had a point.

Maybe he hadn’t gone to you yet because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to face you. Wasn’t sure he could handle whatever look you’d give him—whether it was anger, disappointment, or worse… indifference.

He swallowed hard, staring down at his hands.

“Look, man.” Tommy’s voice softened. “I ain’t sayin’ you gotta show up at her door with a grand speech or some shit. But you love her, don’t you?”

Joel’s grip on his beer tightened. The word made his chest ache. Love.

Like it was something he could have again. Something he deserved.

Tommy saw the hesitation in his brother’s eyes and sighed, shaking his head. “You ain’t gotta say it. I already know. But if you sit around waitin’ for the perfect moment, you’re gonna miss your chance.”

Joel stayed quiet, his thoughts a tangled mess.

Tommy sighed again, standing up and clapping a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Think about it, man.”

Three days.

Three days since you told Joel to leave.

You had needed to do it. It was the right thing.

So why did it feel so goddamn awful?

The first day, you told yourself you were fine. You pushed through work, kept your head down, and ignored how your chest ached every time the door opened, but it wasn’t him. By the second day, Ellie had noticed something was wrong. She asked why Joel hadn’t stopped by, why you kept staring at your phone like you were expecting a message you’d never actually get. You made up an excuse about him being busy with work, but she wasn’t stupid.

By day three, the ache had settled in, deep and constant, and you hated it. Hated that despite everything, part of you missed him.

Because you shouldn’t.

Joel had spent years making it clear he wanted nothing to do with you. He glowered at you from across the room, spoke in clipped, dismissive sentences, and acted like your kindness was something he had to tolerate. You didn’t owe him anything.

Yet…

You curled your fingers around the counter, gripping it like it could anchor you and prevent you from sinking into this mess of feelings you didn’t want to deal with.

The truth was, you’d always liked Joel even when he was gruff, even when every conversation felt like pulling teeth. Even when you told yourself you didn’t.

There was something about him. Something steady. He had that quiet kind of strength that made people trust him without realizing they were doing it.

Joel was a good man. A good man. Even if he’d never shown you that side of himself.

Until he did.

Suddenly, he was fixing your floor without hesitation—without complaints, without a smug told-you-so attitude—until he kept finding more things to fix, as if he wanted a reason to stick around. Until he sat with Ellie, humoring her endless questions and listening as if what she said actually mattered.

And God—Ellie.

Your daughter had never warmed up to anyone so fast.

She wasn’t shy, but she was cautious. She tested people first, observed, and waited before she trusted them. But with Joel?

It was like she knew.

Like she’d been waiting for him just as long as you had.

A lump rose in your throat, and you swallowed hard, shaking your head.

No.

You shut the thought down because this thing with Joel—whatever it was, whatever it could’ve been—was complicated. Messy.

Yet, standing there in the quiet, with the hum of the shop settling around you, you couldn’t shake the hollow ache curling deep in your chest.

Maybe it wasn’t too late.

Maybe Joel hadn’t just been fixing things to make himself feel better. Perhaps he’d been trying—really trying—to make it up to you. To make room for you.

You exhaled sharply, gripping the counter's edge like it could steady the spiral of thoughts spinning in your head.

Because the truth was, if you let yourself believe that… if you allowed yourself hope…and you were wrong? It would break something in you that might not be fixable.

But hadn’t Joel already cracked something open inside you?

You’d spent so long convincing yourself that you didn’t like him—that it didn’t matter, that he didn’t matter but then he started showing up. Not just in small ways, but significant ways.

Maybe, deep down, he’d always cared. Perhaps he just didn’t know how to show it.

You rubbed at your temple, frustration bubbling up because nothing was simple. Joel had spent years keeping you at a distance. Years convincing you that getting close to him wasn’t an option. That he didn’t want it.

So what changed?

What if this wasn’t real? What if he thought he wanted this, but deep down, it was just guilt or obligation?

God, you didn’t know what was worse—the possibility that you had let yourself get pulled into something doomed from the start, or the thought that maybe…Joel had finally figured out he wanted you too.

You hadn’t planned on running into Tommy.

When you walked into the diner to grab lunch, you knew there was a chance. Knew this was his usual spot. Knew there was a slim possibility Joel could be here too.

But you pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter. You weren’t here for them.

Yet, Tommy was sitting in his usual booth with a plate of half-eaten eggs and bacon in front of him.

You tried to be subtle, to slip past before he noticed, but it was too late.

He was already sliding out of the booth, heading straight for you.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Don’t." You put up a hand before he could even open his mouth. "I don’t care what Joel told you—"

"I ain’t gonna defend him." Tommy’s voice was even, firm.

That made you blink. You had expected him to try to smooth things over, offer some kind of excuse, and “That’s just how he is” nonsense.

Instead, he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Trust me, I ain’t here to say he handled things right. He’s an idiot. Always has been."

That… surprised you. Your arms slowly lowered as you hesitated, watching him warily.

Tommy exhaled, glancing toward the window before looking back at you. "Look… Joel’s an odd one. Always has been. He’s never been good at bein’ open with how he feels, even before—"

He stopped himself, jaw tightening. You knew what he was going to say.

Even before Sarah.

Your stomach twisted.

Tommy cleared his throat, shifting his weight. "But I know him. And I know he wouldn’t have offered to fix your shop’s floor if he didn’t want to."

That made your chest ache in a way you weren’t prepared for because, deep down, you knew that.

Joel wasn’t the type to do anything he didn’t want to. He sure as hell wouldn’t have spent all that time fixing your shop, eating lunch with you, answering Ellie’s endless questions if he hadn’t wanted to.

But then why had he said what he said?

Why had he made it sound like your kindness was the problem?

"He didn’t just shut me out, Tommy." Your voice was quiet, but the hurt bled through. "He made me feel like I was too much. Like being nice to him was some kind of…burden."

Tommy sighed again, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "I know." He hesitated before continuing, his voice lower now. "Joel’s scared of shit he can’t control. And you… you make him feel things he doesn’t know what to do with."

You swallowed hard.

"That ain’t an excuse," Tommy added quickly, shaking his head. "He messed up. But I also know my brother. And if you think he ain’t been beatin’ himself up over it the last three days, you’re dead wrong."

Your heart twisted. You didn’t want to care. Didn’t want to feel bad for Joel after what he’d said.

You inhaled deeply, staring at the floor before glancing back at Tommy. "What do you think I should do?"

Tommy just raised a brow. "Ain’t my decision to make, darlin’."

You chewed on your lip, torn, emotions warring inside you.

You could walk away. Let this go. Pretend none of it mattered.

Or—

You could find out if Joel still had anything left to say.

You barely recognized yourself. You had actually done it. Asked Tommy to send Joel to the shop—had lied to get him here.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, your palms clammy as you gripped the counter, trying and failing to steady your breath.

Your phone buzzed—a message from Tommy.

He’s on his way. Thinks the back door fell off the hinges. Don’t be too hard on him.

Your stomach twisted. It wasn’t just a lie.

It was a trap.

The bell above the shop door chimed, and your stomach twisted.

Joel stepped inside, brow furrowed, toolbox in hand. His flannel was slightly wrinkled, sleeves rolled up, and dust lingering on his jeans like he’d been in the middle of another job. His sharp eyes swept the shop before landing on you.

"Where is it?" he asked gruffly, nodding toward the back, already moving like he didn’t want to waste time.

Your fingers curled into the edge of the counter. "Joel." Something in your voice made him pause.

His shoulders stiffened, his back straightening as he turned to face you fully. "There’s nothing wrong with the door, is there?"

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. "No."

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, setting the toolbox down with a thud. His jaw tightened like he was already bracing for whatever was coming.

"So why am I here?" His voice was low, guarded.

"Because I needed to talk to you."

Joel was still. Unreadable. Then, finally, he sighed. "Look—if this is about the other day—"

"Of course, it’s about the other day, Joel." You stepped around the counter, arms wrapping around yourself. "You hurt me."

The words hung heavy in the air between you.

Joel flinched barely, but you caught it.

"I know," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "I was an ass. Always have been."

"I don’t need an apology, Joel. I need to understand." You swallowed, your voice softer now. "You said you didn’t like that I was kind. That it bothered you." You exhaled slowly. "Why?"

Joel dragged a hand through his hair, looking away, tension bracketing his shoulders.

You waited. You wouldn’t push him, but you wouldn’t let him run either.

After a long moment, Joel sighed. "‘Cause it made me feel somethin’ I didn’t want to feel."

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t say anything.

Joel's fingers flexed at his sides like he was wrestling with the words before he forced them out.

"I spent years keepin’ people at arm’s length. Safer that way. Easier. And then you came along—" He huffed humorlessly, shaking his head. "All sunshine and patience and...just wouldn’t quit, no matter how much of a bastard I was to you."

Your throat felt tight. "And you hated that?"

"No." His voice cracked, and that did something to you.

His eyes met yours, and Joel Miller looked wrecked for the first time since you’d met him. "I was scared of it."

The confession sat heavy between you, raw and real.

You took a slow step closer, voice barely above a whisper. "Why?"

Joel hesitated. “Sarah.”

Your heart clenched. You’d known. Tommy had told you. But Joel had never said her name before.

His voice was rough, like it scraped against something inside him. "She was sixteen. Had just gotten her license. Was drivin’ with a friend. Some asshole ran a red light." His throat bobbed, jaw clenched. "She didn’t make it."

A breath shuddered through you.

"Joel."

He shook his head like he didn’t want sympathy. Like he couldn’t take it.

"After that, I told myself I wasn’t gonna feel that kinda loss again. So I kept my distance. Didn’t let people get too close." His voice went even lower. "Then you show up. And Ellie—" He stopped short, shaking his head. "And suddenly, I got this ache in my chest I don’t know what to do with."

Tears burned in your eyes, but you blinked them away.

Slowly, cautiously, you reached for his hand.

Joel tensed at first—like the touch was foreign, like he wasn’t used to being comforted—but he didn’t pull away.

"Let me be here for you." Your voice was soft and steady. "As a friend. As someone to lean on."

Joel's gaze flickered downward, settling where your hand rested against his.

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, with a quiet sigh, his fingers curled around yours—hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure he had the right to hold onto anything good. But he didn’t let go.

His hand was warm and rough, with calluses, but you squeezed it anyway, offering something solid and real.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "I don’t deserve comfort."

Your chest ached at how he said it—like it was fact, like it was something he’d told himself so many times it had become a part of him.

"That’s not true."

"It is." His voice was quiet but firm. "I failed her."

"Joel." You squeezed his hand tighter, forcing him to look at you. "It wasn’t your fault. Nothing you did or didn’t do could have changed what happened."

His jaw tensed, eyes flickering with something raw—something close to breaking.

"I was supposed to protect her." His voice was hoarse like the words were physically painful to say. "I was her damn father."

You swallowed hard, stepping closer, letting your free hand rest lightly against his forearm.

"And you loved her," you murmured. "With everything you had. And I know she knew that."

Joel let out a slow, shaky breath, his grip on your hand tightening like he was grounding himself.

You watched him carefully, giving him a moment, letting him process.

Then, barely above a whisper. "You remind me of her." Joel’s eyes stayed on yours, searching like he wasn’t sure he should’ve said that out loud.

"Not that you’re the same," he added quickly, shaking his head. "But the way you…care. How warm you are. How you make people feel safe just by bein’ around." He exhaled, running a hand over his beard. "It scared the hell outta me."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them back.

"I never wanted to scare you, Joel."

"I know." He sighed, glancing down at your joined hands. His thumb brushed absently against your skin, and you weren’t sure he even realized he was doing it.

You gave him a small, sad smile. "I see you. And I know what it’s like to carry something heavy alone."

Joel’s throat bobbed, his grip on you steady—solid in a way that felt grounding, like he wasn’t just holding your hand but holding you there, keeping you from slipping away.

For so long, he had only seen one version of you. The warm, unwavering light, the person who always had a kind word, a soft smile, a gentle touch.

But there was more to you.

You inhaled slowly, gaze dropping for a second before you looked back at him, something fragile in your expression. "I may seem like I have it all together, but..." Your voice wavered, fingers tightening slightly around his. "I’m not always sunshine and rainbows, Joel."

His brows furrowed, something unreadable passing through his eyes.

"I have moments where I feel like I’m failing Ellie. Like I’m not enough."

Joel stilled. That was a side of you he had never seen before.

Not once had he heard you doubt yourself. Not once had he seen that uncertainty in your eyes. You were always sure, always certain about everything, about everyone.

He had spent years pushing you away, thinking you were too good, too bright, too much of something he couldn’t handle.

But you weren’t invincible, and that realization wrecked him.

"I don’t always know what I’m doing," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I try my best, but sometimes I wonder if it’s enough. If I’m enough."

Joel shook his head immediately, as if the idea alone was wrong. "You are."

You exhaled, blinking quickly. "You don’t know that."

"I do." His voice was firm, with no hesitation. "You love that girl more than anythin’. And she knows it. That’s enough."

You let out a soft, shaky laugh, looking away for a second. "You sound so sure."

"‘Cause I am."

The silence stretched thick with something unspoken and tender.

"She was like you. Strong. Always put everyone else first." His lips pressed into a thin line. "I used to tell her she worried too much about other people. She’d just smile and say, ‘Somebody has to, Dad.’"

Something inside you broke at that.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Sarah?"

Joel nodded, exhaling slowly. "She would’ve liked you," Joel added, his voice quieter now.

Tears pricked your eyes, but you pushed through them, stepping a little closer. "I would’ve liked her too."

Joel swallowed hard, his hand still wrapped around yours.

"Guess this makes us friends?" Your voice was light and teasing—an attempt to break the tension and bring back some of that familiar warmth between you.

Joel exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "No."

Your heart sank. You hadn’t expected some grand declaration, but that? That hurt more than it should have.

You started to pull back, put some space between you, and guard yourself the way he always had, but then Joel’s grip on your hand tightened.

"You’re more than that."

Your breath caught in your throat.

He didn’t look at you at first, just ran a rough thumb over the back of your hand, slow and deliberate, like he was still getting used to the feeling of holding on.

"I don’t do this. Don’t talk about things. Don’t let people get close." His voice was low, as if he was admitting something he didn’t quite have the words for. "But you…"

His gaze lifted, finally meeting yours.

"You got under my skin. Drove me crazy, always bein’ so damn warm. Always smilin’, always makin’ sure everyone else was all alright." He huffed, shaking his head. "I told myself I hated it. Hated you."

His thumb kept moving over your skin, slow and steady, as it grounded him.

"But I never hated you."

The weight of his words settled deep in your chest, heavy and warm all at once.

You swallowed hard, searching his face, trying to piece together what this was, what he was saying. "What does this mean?"

Joel exhaled, his fingers tightening slightly around yours like he was afraid to let go. "It means… I wanna try. If you’ll have me."

Your breath hitched.

"I mean—" He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting slightly. "If you feel the same. I don’t wanna push you or—"

"Joel." You smiled—soft, reassuring.

His eyes flicked to yours, cautious, uncertain.

"I wouldn’t have asked you here if I didn’t feel the same."

Something shifted in him, some of the tension in his shoulders loosening, his jaw unclenching.

His gaze dropped briefly, like he needed a second before meeting your eyes again.

"Then let me take you out." His voice was quiet but steady, rough around the edges in that Joel way, but full of something real. "A real date. Nothin’ fancy, just… me and you. See where this goes."

Your chest ached in the best way.

"You’re really askin’ me on a date, Miller?" you teased lightly, but there was a tremor of genuine emotion beneath your words.

Joel huffed, shaking his head. "Damn right, I am."

Your fingers curled around his, a warmth spreading through you.

"Okay."

Joel blinked, like maybe he hadn’t let himself believe you’d actually say yes.

Then, slowly, one corner of his mouth tugged upward—not quite a full smile, but enough to make your heart stutter.

"Okay." He echoed, his voice quieter now, as if he was letting himself have this moment.

Like he was letting himself have you.

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m-3-rcil-3-ss · 4 months ago

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Arcane sleep headcannons

vi, jinx, caitlyn,jayce, victor, mel, sevika

vi- She sleeps like a rock. Dead weight, periodt. definitely not a morning person, reallyyy grumpy she defo sleeps really weridly on top of you tho, like full on starfish, head inside your shirt, toes locked with yours. she starts off just head on your stomach comfy, then it just gets worse. she drools and snores, NOT a pretty sleeper. loves skin on skin contact tho :((

jinx- holy shit this girl cannot sit still, never mind sleep, she's constantly moving, kicking poking punching, all off it, she falls off the bed, sleeps upside down and everything. you wake up and shes wrapped round your head. Sleepwalker. I said it. she'd definitely need to be close to you while falling asleep, preferably holding your hand, and god forbid you move that hand. shes up

caitlyn- im feeling little spoon energy, pretends to hate it, loves it really, i feel like she mumbles alot in her sleep and drools abit, will deny it forever tho. likes too tangle your legs together, you wake up with a mouth full of hair tho

jayce- fucking pathetic man, little spoon, his head inside your boobs, in your thighs, anything that makes him feel small, he loves it. baby him!! he snores soo loud. i feel like hes also a deadweight but a really light sleeper. hes just pathetic, im sure you can tell my opinion on him

viktor- hes a pretty sleeper, we know it, i feel like hes not big on physical touch, maybe back to back, i would be scared too lay on him incase he breaks, as a heavier girl, im too scared to even think about it. Quiet breaths, hardly ever in bed tho, too busy in the lab

mel- another pretty sleeper, just effortlessly gorgeous, has a matching silk slip, eye mask and bonnet. loves nuzzling her face in your neck, both of you on your sides cuddled up together

sevika- mmm big lady!!!! shes so LARGE, sleep ontop of her, next to her, on her head, trust she can take it. she has to have a cigarette and be holding you before she can fall asleep, physically cannot settle if your not touching her. i feel like she loves holding you ontop of her, she loves how small you feel against her. shes always like slightly awake weridly, like never fully gone, not fully awake. scowls even in her sleep,

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane league of legends #arcane x reader #arcane x you #vi x reader #vi x you #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #caitlyn x reader #jayce talis #jayce x reader #viktor x reader #mel medarda #mel medara x reader #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you

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venmondiese · 1 year ago

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A Cure For A Bad Day

Summary: Aemond has one of his worst days ever, nothing seems to go right. At night, at least, he gets the company of his new wife as he bathes.

Based on Ewan Mitchell's and TGC 'Scene Reactions' when he says "When we did that scene, when he had the rain machine going in, the dye on the eyepatch... it just stained the wig"

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader ✧Warnings: MDNI 18+, p in v sex, bath sex, breeding kink, overall very sweet, aemond discovering feelings. ✧Word Count: 5.2k ✧ Ao3 link: here ✧gifs: by myfandomprompts

Aemond is known for many things. He is fierceless, perfectionist, well trained with the sword, and bold. Those things he was proud of.

And all those things, he was not today.

He trained by morning, and Criston Cole was waiting for him. The sword felt slightly different on his hand, weird, but he just took it that he slept badly and that's why his arm felt numb.

Now, after losing his eye, he had to learn things differently. He had a considerably big blind spot, and so he learned how to keep it aware of his surroundings as training with the sword. Yet, those things do not have in mind the little rocks on the ground, which he stepped on and twisted his ankle as he tried to defend Ser Criston’s attack.

And with that, he twisted his ankle and slightly cut his hand.

He was annoyed, but he tried not to pay attention to it. A silly mistake. The rock was on his blind side, how could he notice? It was a rookie mistake, and it burned his cheeks to remember it.

By the evening, after eating, he decided to ride Vhagar. His girl liked long rides, not so fast but more calm, and prowling around the crownlands skies.

He did not anticipate the rain.

For some reason or another, Vhagar was as grumpy as him, and she did not seem to want to go over the clouds in the rain. No, she wanted full on take a bath on the rainfall.

And Aemond had to bear it. But what was worse was when he realised that his eyepatch had dyed his hair. He just picked the worst eyepatch today.

His hair was slightly silver auburn, and just in some parts. He hated it, and it made his day ten times worse as he realised the eyepatch had been too tight, and it had been suffocating his scar without him realising.

He had trouble with the sensibility on his left side of his face, and just today he put his eyepatch too tight. It made him furious.

And he decided to make it everyone’s problem.

He was laying in the bathtub, next to the fire as he had a horrible headache. He came in, demanding a bath as the servants had to rush to get him hot water.

He took his own clothes off, kicking his boots away, refusing any servants touch as he undoes his own leather jerkin, he unties his breeches, grunting and mumbling in frustration, hating each instance of this day. He thinks a bath will help him to relax even a bit. He just wanted to sleep, and end up with this horrible day.

His scar itches, and it drives insane. It was as if the itchcame from the deep parts of his cheekbones and it drove him mad. He was at the edge of peeling his own skin to scratch his damn scar.

Only in his undergarments, he ignores the chilling cold from the chamber, and he walks barefoot as the servants fill the bathtub with hot water. As hot as possible. He walks over the chimney, and throws the eyepatch in, hoping it burns in hell.

His loose hair, tinted with the dye of the eyepatch. If he only knew who was the mastermind behind it, who decided to spend coins on it; he would kill them. And they better hope this stupid dye can get off with the bath, or head will start rolling.

The water was hot, but he paid no mind. He liked boiling hot, and he sat against his as he let the attendant boy prepare scents and the oils to put on the water, and to wash him. Aemond didn’t allow him to wash him; yet. He wanted some moments of peace in the hot water, so he remained a good amount of time still.

“Bring me the ointment that Maester Orwyle prepared for my eye” Aemond’s voice is low, yet demanding as the boy gets out, not without bowing to the prince.

He waits, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that would calm his nerves, his headache. He believes it works, so he is focused on it, as he accommodates his legs on the water, trying to be relaxed.

Time is a bit dizzy, and when he hears the door open, he can hear the servants speaking hushedly, as if wanting him not to hear. Good, because he didn’t want to listen to them either.

He can hear the little taps that the shoes do as the maid leaves the oils for his hair on a near table, and takes his hair on her hands, gently. He doesn’t turn to face her; he just wants the damn dye to get off.

Hands wash his hair, and if he wants to relax, this is making it impossible. The little tugs and the awful way that scrubs his hair to take the dye off, and the weird caresses on his neck from time to time.

“You are not doing correctly" he grumbles to the servant with closed eyes as his migraine is persistent. "Learn how to wash a prince's hair" he adds, sharply.

“Apologies” The voice comes as a murmur, a bit strained if even, as the hands go to his neck, and all the way up.

“My prince” He adds sharply, he cannot believe his luck today. “When you address a royal member of the Targaryen House, you use their title. My prince” he says, patronisingly and even angry.

“Yes, my prince” a little cough at the end, he either thinks the maid is trying to hold back a laugh or embarrassment. Not that he cares, as he has his eye closed and a hand on his temple, his head resting on his hand, that caresses his forehead trying to get that awful headache away

Aemond's face was scrunched up in pain, as his eyes were closed. "Are you new at this? I swear... I am starting to believe that they are just sending me incompetent maids to attend to me..." the young prince groaned.

His body stiffens, as arms go to wrap his neck from behind, and before he can sit up properly, he feels the maid kiss his cheek lovingly as she giggles. “Apologies, my prince…”

The voice is clear as day, and if his hand was going to fetch the little dagger on the table by his side, it stops.

He turns his head to his right, seeing your wide smile as you wait for his reaction. He groans, rolling his eyes, which causes you to laugh loudly.

His new wife, she always liked to tease him and cling to him, always hugging him, taking his hand in hers or kissing him all over. He didn’t mind; he always allowed her even at court. But he won’t admit that he likes it too.

“Wife” he greets you as he sighs, and he feels your hand rubbing circles in the back of his neck.

“I know, I do not know how to wash hair. You’ve made it completely clear”

“I thought you were a servant” he says, looking at her. “You are a highborn lady, you don’t need to know how to.”

“True…” you say, moving some of the wet hair out of his face, and squeezing it so it isn’t dripping. “I heard that my prince had a horrible day, and he was in a bad mood. Servants do talk, you know…” you say looking at him with a smile “Wanna tell me about it?”

Aemond sighs and looks at you, as you take the sponge to wash his body. He sighs as you pour some of the water in his chest and start scrubbing softly.

“"A terrible day... I stepped on a rock, and twisted my ankle and cut my arm in the process... Then i wanted to relax with a ride on Vhagar, but it started to rain, the fucking dye of the eyepatch got all over my hair and eye.. I have the worst migraine now..." his voice is rough, and he seems annoyed at the memory of it. “And I haven’t seen you as much as I’d like”

It wasn’t the worst day he has ever lived. Maybe. When he lost his eye it could be the top one. He won Vhagar, at the cost of his eye. It was an amazing thing, traded for the worst thing that has ever happened to him. He was still living the consequences of it today, as his scar stinged on his skin.

“Not your best day, I see” you say softly, scrubbing his chest. He enjoys it, as he looks at you, leaning back in the bath as you scrub his chest. “I’m sorry to hear it”

“I don’t need pity”

You chuckle “It is not pity” you say softly, looking at your husband. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

Aemond stays silent. He is not used to someone caring about him like this. Sure, his mother cared for him, and so did Helaena But not like this.

“Be by my side”

The silence is a bit comforting, as you wash his body. He looks at you deeply, and he cannot help but think how stunning you are. You didn’t find any discomfort in washing him, in caring and tending to him. You never once seem disgusted by his lack of eye, by his empty eye socket, or his ugly scar. Never once you discarded him.

It was more than often that you placed the ointment prepared by maester Orwyle on his eye, his scar, where his nerves were permanently damaged and they brought discomfort to him. You never once complain.

“You look different” he says, looking at you in the dim lights of the room.

“Different how?” you ask, as you finish brushing his hair, making sure the dye is almost completely getting off his wet hair. He has little curls, which makes you smile like an idiot.

“I do not know. Shining. Radiant. Lovely.” He murmurs, moving one of his wet hands to tickle a strand of hair on your ear. “Different”

“So I usually do not look radiant or lovely…”

“Not what I meant” he groans and you chuckle softly. “You were sick. Now you look much better in… spirits.”

“You look different too” You say looking at him with a smile. Your eyes fall to his chest, and you smile. He notices how you get flustered at the sight of his nakedness.

“More wounded” he says ironically, leaning back with a sigh.

“Stronger” you correct him smiling. “More… mhm. I’d say more… Hot”

“You think I am hotter when I'm wounded?”

“Not what I meant” you say chuckling under your breath, “I meant… I like seeing you like this... Leaning back is so... manly, and hot…"

“Oh, do you?” he asks slightly amused, leaning back still as he looks at you, nodding and smiling. Aemond frowns a bit, and he hisses then you accidentally hit his new wound on his wrist.

“Sorry, love” you say, kissing his hand, and smiling. “You know, when I was little they cured my wounds like this. With a kiss”

“Did they?” He asks, trying to remain interested even with his headache.

“Yes. Like this” She says kissing near his wound, a very feather-like kiss. “See? Does it feel better?”

You look at him with an adorable expression, as if you truly think that this would make him feel better. Aemond blinks, as he looks at you.

It ticks him the wrong way that you care about him. Why would you? Perhaps it is a womanly thing. He wasn’t so sure. Perhaps as his wife, it is your burden, having to make a maimed man feel better.

The prettiest maiden in court, chained to a maimed man, deformed and always wounded, stuck in the pain of his eye to see beyond. Wasting your best years with him.

And he cannot decipher why.

“Aemond?” You ask as he trails off.

“Yeah” he clears his throat, awkwardly, and he moves his legs a bit. “I guess so”

“Where else does it hurt?” You ask sweetly.

He sometimes hates how kind you can be, he doesn’t know what your upper intentions are, but after all, you are his wife even if he can’t decipher you.

“Well, my eye, obviously…” he says a bit embarrassed “And… my left foot, I guess. And my arm, because I slept on it… and…”

You nod, looking at him as he speaks. He is intimidated, he realises. You make sure to hear all of what he has to say, with your sweet eyes.

You move to the end of the bathtub, and move to kiss his ankle softly, no complaints, no hesitation. Nothing… odd, about it. Only out of tenderness. You kiss his shoulder, and his left cheekbone, softly, to make sure it doesn’t burn on his skin. He just lets you, because it makes you happy, thinking that it helps.

And he doesn’t realise that it actually helps him, in a way. The smile on your face makes him smile too, and he sighs.

“Better?”

“Mhm” he hums in agreement, looking at your face. “Better when you're with me, yes”

He is utterly head over heels for you, even if he isn’t good with feelings. He loves you, even when he seems slightly annoyed by you.

“And you?”

“And me?” You ask curiously.

“You were sick. Coughing like crazy, and all your body ached.” he says softly, “in confinement, away from me… Do you truly feel better?”

“I am better. Lady Westerling got all of us sick” you say with a slight smirk. “my body still aches a bit, but it’s…” you hesitate a bit, slightly nervous.

“Then join me” he interrupts, moving to try and get you in the bathtub with him. "The hot water will do good to you..."

"It will burn my skin, I hate how hot you take these baths..." you protests, moving his hands off your waist as he tries to pull you in.

"The Blood of the Dragon, wife" he says smugly, smirking. "It is cold, anyways. It is barely warm"

"You like it boiling hot" You say smiling to him, and he presses a kiss on your jaw.

"I do, indeed." He admits "Come on, get in with me"

“Aemond, my nightgown…” you protest, and he rolls his good eye.

“You have others, let it get wet” You seem to give in, as he helps you get in, holding your hand as you enter the bathtub. “It will do good to your aches.” He insists, taking your waist in his hands to place you on his lap.

“I think it is an excuse” you say, blushing a bit as you accomodate on his lap.

“A good one, you must admit” he says looking at you, and he passes his hands all the way up to your back. “But an innocent one, I must admit” he says, and you tilt your head as if asking him to elaborate “I don’t think I am up for anything, I am too tired for it”

You hum, his still wet hair made him look almost cute. His little curls...

“The dye came off” you say, as he leans to kiss your neck a bit. “I can go to the tailor and ask them to make another eyepatch one for you. More fancy. With real leather. Maybe add some fancy dragon scales in it”

“Hm. Fine” he says looking up at you, smiling at how delicious you were. He places a kiss on your hand, and he smiles. “What is bothering you?”

You stay still, blinking a bit. “Court. Ladies… at court. They don't seem to like me much. I mean, they like me but I always feel excluded. Like I am doing too much for them to like me”

Aemond looks at you, a bit surprised by it. He places his hands on your waist, and he certainly was thinking about how to comfort you. He wasn’t a court charmer either, so he hummed.

“I thought you had friends.”

“I do… I guess. They just never seem to think of me when doing things. They do not hate me, no… I am the new one…, and so they just…. Don’t include me”

“I’ll include you” he states nodding. “I’ll bring you with me everywhere. Training, riding Vhagar, in the library, all of it.” He proposes softly.

“Hm. It would be pleasant.”

You smile softly, your hands, now wet and in the water, move from his abdomen all the way up to his chest.

Your husband was well fit. A prince of the realm, training with the sword since he was little. He practised almost every day, and was very detail-oriented in his field. And that paid off, as he was lean; yet muscular.

You two were still newlyweds. Maybe three months since you two married, and things were a bit awkward still. You tried to decipher his odd behaviour and he tried the same with yours, starting to know each other personally, yet there was a bond, a silent affection you both shared for the other.

His body felt warm. He had stayed at the bathtub for Gods know how many hours, and he was all wet and shiny. You hand caressed his muscles, going up from his abdomen to where his wispy chest hair were.

“What is in your mind?”

You hum, and smile “How handsome my husband is” you murmur “How good he is to me…” you add “How much I truly like you…”

Aemond raises his eyebrows, and he looks at you as your hand caress his torso up and down, slowly, as if you were tempting him.

“Oh?”

You nod softly, and even if he doesn’t know you too well; he knows this face.

You move to kiss his neck, your arms wrapped around his torso as you leave little kisses all over his skin. He chuckles a bit, at your little desperation for the demonstration of love, you were such a physical person for him.

“Darling, what are you-”

“I just missed you” You say, and he can see in his head the pout you would form if you weren’t so eagerly kissing his neck.

He chuckles as his hand holds your waist firmly on his lap, and he leans his head back, facing the ceiling as you two spoke. “Very eagerly, I see”

“You are tired. But let me…”

Your arms wrapped around him, holding him as you press gentle kisses there, and he smiles, starting to feel the boiling arousal in his abdomen, looking at the ceiling as if it could distract his mind.

“Very well”

His arms went to the edges of the bathtub, as he felt the fabric of the nightgown against his chest, and he certainly was starting to enjoy the constant nibbling and wetness of your kisses.

Aemond lets out a quiet groan, enjoying the gentle bites at his neck, as he feels his neck a little warmer. “You little minx- Did you just give me a hickey?”

Your giggle tells him all, as you move your lips to the start of his clavicle. His good eye closes as he enjoys the way your mouth feels against his sensitive skin.

“You are simply… delicious” you murmur, your kisses going lower to his chest, before stopping a moment.

“Do not tell me you want to leave a hickey there…” He says, moving his head down to look at you.

As he imagined before, your mouth turns into a pout as you frown; most adorably he must add.

“Oh, please! Let me try” You ask him “It is a way to show you that I missed you” You add, trying to convince him as he chuckles, making a mocking sound.

Aemond rolls his eyes as he feels your eager mouth sucking the skin of his chest, as if he was some kind of… not even he knew. It felt strange. Worshiped and feral. That’s how it felt, at least for him.

Once you separate, you look at your work, your thumb moving along the bruised skin with a satisfied smirk.

“Looks so good on you” you swear, as if it was a matter to be known.

“If it makes you happy” he says, accommodating on his seat, the water moving along with him. “My turn, then?”

You shake your head with a giggle “You always make it a mess!”

That he did, and he smiles a bit, seeing the lack of lovemarks of your neck.

It is you who eagerly kiss him, and press your body to his, as if needing him. He isn’t one to complain, as he feels your eager lips pressing against his and your tongue invading his mouth. Rather bold, to his taste. But he likes it.

Your hands on his shoulder make their slow way down, passing temptingly slow from his chest, to his abdomen. He gasps in the kiss, as if he was some kind of maiden, when he feels your hands underwater on his crotch and touching his cock.

He frowns a bit as he separates, trying to demand an answer. “Wha-” he tries to ask before you shut him up with a kiss, not even letting him speak.

Rather eager, aren’t we… He thinks, but he isn’t one to complain, as your touch is like magic to his dick. In the water is odd, he has to admit, but his member thinks otherwise as he gets aroused from your eagerness.

You smooch him with kisses, and he feels… intimidated, in a good way. You don’t even allow him to breathe without going for another kiss, desperate. Feral.

He has a feral wife, it seems.

“Darling, what are you…” he asks amused as you break the kiss, just to move your wet skirts all the way up, but he can’t see much of your pussy in the water, which he dislikes a lot.

“I missed you” you repeat “A lot.”

“It isn’t as if you were confined in a tower for years. It was barely two days. And I visited you-”

“I need you, husband” you state impatiently, as your knees move to the sides of his hips. “so, if you are tired, I’ll do it”

He blinks, surprised and taken aback. He is rather amused and aroused, at his bold wife.

“Alright” he says, looking at you as you can do the work alone.

He isn’t tired for sex, not at all. He can certainly get the energy, maybe not perform as usual, but he’ll do it if you ask. You didn’t even need to ask for it. But seeing you in control is better than that.

You rode him once, for later to admit that it wasn’t your favourite position, because you grew tired quickly. He didn’t mind, but now he thinks he’ll have you riding him at least once a week.

The way your dick enters your body is slow, as you slowly lower yourself on it. He can see your face contoured with pleasure, how you shut your eyes, and your hands grip on his shoulders as you whimper on it, you open your mouth and he leans to kiss your neck a bit, as if wanting to give back the affection you give him.

More than bounce on it, you find it more practical to grind on it. Your hands, that move between his waist and his shoulders, as if you didn’t know where to hold him to help you grind against his cock.

“That’s so good…” you whimper as you grind on his cock.

The water moves around, the harder you grind, the harder it moves on the bathtub. He is even sure that some of it has overflowed the bathtub, as he looks at your pretty face, as you moan needily. His hand moved to pull down your nightgown, just enough to expose both of your tits in the firm fabric. He pulls it down to expose your shoulders a bit, and it is a sight that only arouses him more.

“It’s so good, baby?” He asks looking up to you, and he leans his head to kiss your nipple, gently.

He knows you missed him. You are not rough, or a mess on his cock. You are doing it so prettily, so sweetly, he knows that you truly have missed him and his touch.

“Yeah, so-so good.” You babber a bit, nodding as he kisses your other breast softly. He does not hold you, he has his hand on the back, trying to keep him firm as you ride him.

His right hand holds your waist, as he notices. Your arms are on his shoulders as you whimper and moan, grinding him, not even minding the water around.

He has to admit, in the bathtub isn’t as comfortable as outside of it. The water doesn’t help to be smoother, if anything, he has the impression it does the contrary. It may be just him, as you don’t say anything against it.

“So eager, baby…” he says amazed, and now he feels like the one worshipping you. He just adores you, he realises, as he sweetly talks you through it “You just needed me, this badly?” He asks, kissing your jaw.

The little nods you give him are enough to get him moving his hips slowly up to meet your little grinds and bounces.

He kisses your breast again, and the other, and the other. He adores you, how the little mewls from your mouth are so arousing for him as you clench your pussy around him.

“Aemond…” you whine. “Feels.. amazing, so good...” you repeat, as if you couldn't think of anything else, as he looks up to you.

He is just surprised you have gotten this far without begging him to take control. They way he’d take your waist and flip you around, to make you hold the other edge of the bathroom, just to take you from behind, again, and again, and again. The water would overflow the bathtub completely, and his seed would be securely in your womb.

But you don’t ask him, and he doesn’t do it. He likes the sweetness of it. He likes how you look at him needily for both of your lips to meet on a kiss, passionate as your bounces and grind are slightly weaker.

“My special girl…” he murmurs, kissing you again and again, not minding if they are pecks or if he has the opportunity for his tongue to play with yours. “I love you”

You nod, whimpering and whining as you say it back. I love you, I love you, I love you. Again and again, as if it was some prayer.

“Aemond” you moan into his mouth,

“I know. Can you feel how good you take me?” He asks softly, kissing your chin, as he holds your waist to help you bounce on his cock. The splash of the water amuses and arouses him, and he groans at the sight of your nightgown fully soaked, glued to your figure.

“Mhm. Yes, yes, Gods, yes” you said, probably numb and already cockdrunk, just enjoying the feeling of his cock so deep inside.

“You want me to fill you, hm? To make you round with my seed, baby?” He asks, looking at you, moving to kiss your neck.

He is also rambling at this point, as you squeeze him in the perfect way, asking to be filled with cum. He ignores how the water splashes his chest and back, how it is practically soaking the carpet under the bath, and making a mess. He has to remember how wet it might be so you two don’t slide on the floor.

“Aemond, I… oh, Gods, Aemond!”

You little moans are music to his ears, as he holds your waist to move you down to his cock, to his taste. Not as rough as usual, but certainly desperate enough to want to cum.

“Will you cum for me, darling?” He asks, as he feels your hips grinding more desperately on him, and he throws his head back on the edge as he feels his balls tighten as well. You did wonders on him. “Cum for me and I’ll fill you up as you so much like” he promises, almost feral for you to cum.

Your release made him moan, loudly, as he held you tight on his cock as he cums as well. He looks lazily at you, panting and whimpering still, which only serves to fuel the last remains of arousal on his abdomen, filling your womb with his cum. He hopes it takes root and to see you grow pregnant as moons pass by.

“Thank you” you say, breathless against his chest, kissing his cheek sweetly.

He smiles a bit, by how pleasure drunk you obviously were. He moves you slightly, to pull out from you and accommodate you on his chest, which you take comfort in. “Nothing to be thankful for. I thank you. Having sex is rather… good for when one had a bad day” he says smiling.

You smile, and look at him, caressing his chest as you remain in this position, calmly breathing as he tries to stop panting.

“Have I made it better?” You ask, softly, looking up to him.

He chuckles softly, almost amused by how ridiculous the question was.

“Just by having a sight of you, you make my day better” he says.

Even if he was new to this whole marriage thing, even if sometimes he didn’t know you that well as your ladies-in-waiting and sometimes just allowed you to be even if it bothered him. He didn’t understand you most of the time, but he certainly adored you, very dearly.

“I can make it even better” you say almost proudly, and he raises his eyebrow, looking at you laying on his chest. The water wasn’t even hot anymore, but more cold than he could bear.

“Oh, how so?” He asks amused. “Did you claim a dragon? Only that can top the amazing moment that we just-”

“I am with child” you say simply, looking at him with a smile.

He stops on his tracks, and looks at you as he takes in what you said. He blinks, looking at you, and you smile awkwardly at him. Was he happy? The prospect always puts him in a good mood. But maybe it wasn’t as you thought? One thing was words, and other actions.

You watch his eye as he seems to have hundreds of thought per second, his face slight confused as he frowns a bit, before his lips turn into smile full of disbelief.

“Are you joking?”

“No... Maester Orwyle informed me this morning” you say softly. “He says that probably our wedding night was fruitful. I don't know. I don't look that pregnant, after these months. We have to figure it out in these days, so we can see when the birth is due... It's funny, because at first we thought it was from the sickness, that I got the worst part… but I just happened to be sick and pregnant”

That's why Maester Orwyle looked at him with a slight smirk as he helped desinfect his arm after training. You probably asked him to keep the secret so you could tell him.

That's why there was something off about you. He couldn't get exactly what, but something was off. It made sense, how nervous you were and how you tried to tell him before, but he was a fool to not notice it.

“Oh, my love…” he says, as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly to him. “Oh… I don’t… I... What can I even say to that?”

He is surprised, and he can’t believe it. You were pregnant. You actually were. His little offspring, growing in your womb right at this moment. Your stomach was not firm by any mean, he couldn't decipher it even if he liked so.

“That is… That is the best thing anyone has ever told me” he admits, chuckling a bit in surprise. “You are going to be a mother. And you are going to make me a father”

"We are, indeed" You say smiling to him. "In some months, it will be me, you and a weeping babe"

He can feel his nose burn as he smiles, the image on his head as he forces himself not to cry of happiness, a weird chuckle comes out of his mouth.

"You are right" he says looking at you. "So, you are definitely moving to my chambers now, aren't you? No more personal chambers, no more confinement when sick. You are not leaving my side, not you or our little dragon" He states nodding, not for discussion. He can't have you just wandering around without him near to protect both of you.

He smiles, as you giggle. His day certainly got better, all thanks to you. His hands caress your back soothingly, as he is just... happy. He forgets about his horrible day, how his ankle still hurts or how his scar stings on his cheek and forehead as he smiles. What is that compared to the joy of knowing that he will be a father? A father to your children as well?

“Now, how come Lady Westerling got my pregnant wife sick?” he teases you as you roll your eyes. “She is in so much trouble, who does she think she is? Both my wife and my sweet baby? Oh, she is not going to see sunlight ever again-”

“Aemond!” you giggle, but he smooches your cheek with kisses that only makes your giggles grow louder.

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