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gothgoblinbabe · 23 days

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She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, afab reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now.

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week.

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again.

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand.

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play.

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie.

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Definitely not my type of girl.

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs.

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly.

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence.

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers.

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed.

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing.

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice.

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently.

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable.

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more.

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne.

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.”

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?”

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people.

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter.

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way.

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing.

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him.

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants.

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs.

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you.

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time.

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before.

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.”

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze.

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately.

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out.

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him.

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?”

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.”

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started.

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed.

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name.

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you.

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind.

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you.

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top.

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath.

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him.

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck.

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go.

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck.

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back.

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking.

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs.

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name.

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing.

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers.

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?”

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing.

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him.

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking.

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist.

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust.

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back.

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out.

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size.

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him.

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress.

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again.

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you.

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful.

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip.

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again.

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds.

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm.

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be.

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #wolverine

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wilwheaton · 2 years

Note

favorite goncharov character

Goncharov! Holy shit I haven't thought about Goncharov in YEARS!

I remember seeing it at the Vista theatre downtown in ... I want to say 1983? It was either 82 and I was 10, or 83 and I was 11. Now that I think about it, it must have been Spring of 83. I remember that Kimmy Mendini was my babysitter, and she drove my friend Ahmed and me all the way downtown to see Goncharov. She would have been at least 16, but I feel like she was a little older. I remember that she LOVED movies and just never stopped talking about European cinema.

Ha! I can still her her sort of roll "Cinema" out of her mouth. Movies were for the masses to watch, while sophisticated adults experienced Cinema. I'm just realizing now that she absolutely pronounced it with a capital C. She was like "you are so lucky to see a clean print of Goncharov!"

I had no idea what a clean print was, but I understood it was important and impressive.

She had read about this screening in the LA Weekly, which I didn't know at the time was TREMENDOUSLY subversive in our suburban part of Los Angeles County, and we were going to an old theatre in maybe not the greatest part of town, but Kimmy had been watching me since I was in second grade and was like my big sister. I knew we'd be safe with her.

That old theatre (which is now a fucking swap meet) was just so beautiful inside. 100 foot ceilings, box seats, gold paint and murals. It felt like a place you went to experience Cinema, but, like ... it had absolutely seen better days. I remember that I felt kind of bad for the place, a little embarrassed, like when I got a good grade and accidentally made eye contact with a friend who got a D.

Okay. This clearly hit a memory artery, and I appreciate you staying with me this far, when we finally get to the fireworks factory. We're walking up to the box office, and she tells Ahmed and me that we have to wait on the sidewalk, because *technically* it's rated R, and she's not our legal guardian, but what does this guy making two bucks an hour know about art anyway?

So we wait. She buys the tickets, and then we all walk in as casually as we can.

I remember how scared I was that we were going to get caught and they'd call the cops (that's how it worked in my anxiety-ridden brain), but literally nobody cared. The theatre wasn't even half full, and everyone there was a dude at least as old as my parents.

You know the story, so I don't have to recount all of it, but I can at this very moment remember how shocked I was when Bruno was shot. This was the first time, ever, I had felt an emotional connection to a character. I didn't cry when Bambi's mother was shot, I didn't cry when ET died, I didn't cry E V E R.

But when Bruno died? I didn't make a sound. I just silently wept. Tears just poured down my face and I wanted to roll back time, rewrite the movie, and get him out of that room.

I obviously understand now, all these years later why I connected to him and why his story meant and means so much to me, but at the time I had no idea. I just thought the actors were that good.

I can't believe that guy who played him died so young. I think he was like 40? I remember thinking that was old. Now I know different.

When the movie was over, Kimmy asked us how we liked it. Ahmed was obsessed with the photography (he grew up to be an illustrator), and I obviously had my Bruno Moment.

We got Thrifty ice cream on the way home and listened to Donna Summer in her Datsun.

I haven't thought about Goncharov or Cinema or Kimmy in FOREVER. Leave it to Tumblr to boost my nostalgia check to a natural 20.

tl;dr: Bruno. I know he's supposed to be that character we all hate, and there are so many valid reasons for that. But when I was 12 ... well, I was a different person.

Oh! And now that I know what a "clean print" is, having seen so many "dirty prints" in revival houses before they all turned into swap meets or churches (hey, two places where people sell you stuff and take your money!), I retroactively appreciate it in a way that would make Kimmy happy.

Thanks for the trip into the crumbling mall that is my childhood memories. I haven't been here in awhile and it was nice to visit.

#Goncharov (1973)#goncharov #bruno #yes bruno #unreality

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zepskies · 10 months

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 13

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.

Part 13: “Boiling Point”

Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.

This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.

You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.

Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…

But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.

Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.

The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.

“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.

You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.

“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”

Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”

You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.

You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.

You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, it was.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.

It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows.

“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”

“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”

Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.

“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”

You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.

“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.

She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”

You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.

“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”

A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.

“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.

He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)

Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.

“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.

You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”

“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.

“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”

Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.

“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.

You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”

“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”

You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?

“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”

Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.

He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”

You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.

Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.

“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.

The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere.

Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.

“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”

You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.

“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.

“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”

You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.

“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.

You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.

Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.

You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.

A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).

It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.

And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”

When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.

“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.

You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny.

“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”

“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.

“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”

“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.

He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”

Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.

“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.

Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”

You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?

“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.

Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.

“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said.

You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.

At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.

There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.

“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”

He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.

“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”

He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.

“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”

His eyes met yours knowingly.

You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”

You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.

Fucking frat bros.

“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.

“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.

It made you realize something.

As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?

The rest of your life?

Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.

If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.

You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.

So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.

“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.

You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”

Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”

A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.

“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”

Your hand tightened on his wrist.

“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”

Dean nodded, and you stood.

“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”

You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”

Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.

“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.

Benny whistled.

“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”

Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”

Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.

“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.

Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.

Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.

She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind.

Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…

Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.

She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.

“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”

Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.

“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”

Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.

��What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.

“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.

Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.

You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.

A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.

“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.

The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.

Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.

“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.

“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.

Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.

You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.

His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.

You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.

He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.

Please—

And the hand was peeled away entirely.

You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.

Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.

It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.

The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.

“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.

“What?” Nick choked.

You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.

“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.

“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”

Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.

“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”

“Dean,” you gasped.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”

You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.

“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.

“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”

Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.

“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”

Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.

“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.

Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.

“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”

Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.

Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.

“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.”

“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”

Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.

Nick met his eyes.

“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”

He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”

Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”

Once again, Nick smirked.

“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”

Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.

But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.

The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.

“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.

“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.

Winchester, Nick thought.

Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.

“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”

When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.

Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.

He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.

The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.

You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)

He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”

Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.

The car was silent for the rest of the hour.

It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.

Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.

You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.

With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”

You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“It started before I even met you, Dean.”

His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.

“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”

You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.

When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.

And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.

All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.

But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.

At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.

I should've told him, you thought. You knew.

Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.

Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”

“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.

“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”

Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him.

“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”

He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.

“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”

You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.

Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.

“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”

Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.

“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head.

“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”

“He can fucking try,” he snapped.

“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”

He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.

Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”

The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.

Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either.

He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.

“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”

After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.

You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.

Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.

You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.

“Dean,” you called.

He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Come ‘ere a sec?”

He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked.

Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.

Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.

Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.

But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.

His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Baby?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.

You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.

He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear.

“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”

You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”

You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.

“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.

“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said.

You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick.

“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.

You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.

“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”

Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.

You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail.

Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep.

AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).

Next Time:

The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

Keep Reading: PART 14

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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#Boiling Point #Smoke Eater #Part 13 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #benny lafitte #zepskies writes

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bellswlw · 2 years

Text

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ it’s cold here without you ⇨ e. williams

ellie williams x afab!reader

wc: 6k

part 1.5 | part two | masterlist

summary: after Ellie manages to finally get you to pose for her after arriving in Jackson months ago, you two attend the winter dance and it’s then that you realize you might like ellie as more than just a friend…

cw: bff!ellie, mutual pining, jealousy, drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, inexperienced reader, artist!ellie, some fluff, edging (r!receiving kinda), love confessions, making out in semi public space (???) basically grumpy x sunshine, gardener!reader —lmk if there are more tags to add pls—

a/n: this was going to be angsty and sad but then this just happened so enjoy! (please be nice this is my first public wlw post and first fic i’ve been proud of in a minute so pls, pls just don’t be mean. i’ve been so nervous to post this all week help) proofread but there’s probably still some mistakes tbh

From the moment you walked into Jacksons gates, Ellie knew something. Something so small rang in her ears. So much so it almost hurt, it made her want to wince at the sight of you like you were a walking orb of fire and you had just exploded right in front of her.

She knew when you met Shimmer for the first time, she knew in the dining hall, and at the library and the school and the church. Especially at the church. She knew she would never be able to let you go. But she knew she would have to, eventually.

You spun slowly around in Ellie’s desk chair, your head resting back as the smoke filled your lungs more and more with each rotation.

“Please. I don’t want to go alone, I won’t know anyone else there.” you say up into the ceiling while you wait for a response. You hear the crackle of weed burning straight through Ellie’s chest before anything else.

Her voice drops a little low when she finally speaks, the smoke falling from her lips like fog rolling over a still lake. “I’m sure Dina will be there. And Jesse. And literally everyone else.” Ellie was stretched out on the futon from across the room, caring less about the stupid winter dance.

You look at her then, a little dizzy and absolutely appalled that she wouldn’t want to go and watch people get drunk and dance to No Scrubs while high out of your minds.

She was never the type for large happy gatherings, but you figured she would go if she got to sit and watch for entertainment.

“Not everyone.” you whispered to yourself with a quick raise of your eyebrow before glancing at your hands quick enough to avoid Ellie's eyes that were suddenly boring into you.

Ellie sat up; the joint now glued to her lips.

“It’s a fuckin’ winter dance. In the Church. C’mon, how fun could it really be?”

You look up. Seeing how her eyes never left your face. Like you were meeting her there, through a dirty window with the reflection of her hazily standing beside you. A window that hasn't been buffed out yet, just a little foggy. Just a little.

“Well, it would be more fun if you went with me. Please. Just for an hour? Then we can come back here and do whatever you wanna do. Even if it's just sitting around. And you can draw me… if you want to.” you added the last part in a hushed tone, like the words were timid to come out.

But you had been secretly hoping she would since you got here.

You loved watching her draw, her fingers tracing over the paper so gently, like it was skin. Almost like it was yours. You wished it was… sometimes.

She looked away from you, drawing in another drag before she rested her elbows on her knees, legs spread wide.

Ellie had been wanting to draw you since the day you got here. The shape of your hips and the slope of your neck had haunted her pages for months. Erasing and sketching them again and again from memory. She wouldn’t let the opportunity pass her up and spit her out.

She sighed, trying to gauge if you had really meant it. Your tell wasn’t working since you were already beat red from just offering yourself up.

“Fine. Let’s just do it now, while we have time to spare.” was what she said instead, swallowing back her excitement and clearing her throat.

Ellie reaches over to you, handing you the joint and gently flexes her hand in your direction to tell you to finish it.

There wasn’t much left, maybe a little more than a roach. You took it from her a little eagerly, wanting the smoke to smooth your lungs and the quickend beat in your chest caused by Ellie’s hand grazing yours.

It didn’t take very long or much for you to feel it. You were such a lightweight.

Ellie of course found it hilarious when she realized. Catching on and laughing at you from across the room when you started giggling at the word “Infectious.”

Maria had said your laugh was “infectious” in the stables and considering the circumstances, it was true. Only, this time Ellie wasn’t immune to it. She had followed suit and ducked her head over her shoulder away from you to collect herself while shimmer groaned in relief.

“It’s just so—“ you cut yourself off, burying your face in your knees while sitting on the floor against the side of Ellie’s bed frame.

The distance was necessary since you had only met a few days prior.

Ellie looked up at you, with her brows pulled together in confusion before she put two and two together.

“Wait. Are you high?” she asked with a chuckle.

The room was clouded with a thin layer of smoke, barely enough to be able to see to the naked eye.

Your eyes had shot open wide, terrified.

“You are! Holy shit, this is good.” her voice carved the words into you then, the goosebumps running through your legs until they reached your core and exploded there with millions of needles with nowhere to go. You were soaked.

Ellie hadn’t laughed that hard in a minute, with her hand flat on her stomach to try and help the coiling feeling deep in her stomach.

“That’s fucking hilarious.” she murmured, her head falling back against the futon before taking a hit so big her cheeks had funneled in.

“Shut up.”

You were bright red with embarrassment and Ellie couldn’t look you in the eye without the image burning into her mind for the next week.

You think back on it now and what took place only a few hours before, letting a dry chuckle fall from your lips and echo into the quiet of the room.

Ellie’s still for a moment, but then joins in and laughs hard enough for her body to jolt with each exhale.

“What?” her tell floats to the surface immediately as she wipes the bow above her lip nervously.

“Do… do you remember that one time–” You stifle back a small laugh with your hand, slightly doubled over in the chair and your other flat against the coffee table for support.

“What?” she asks again, an unsteady smile creeping its way in.

“When… when we were– I can’t!” you confess, letting out a burst of laughter and slowly sliding down onto the floor.

“What?!” Ellie exclaims, a laugh finally falling from her lips while her hands tense out in front of her.

“When we were in the stab… stables. And I met Shimmer? And then I was petting her ears and all of this sudden, she rips absolute ass! Do you remember that?!” you let out a laugh, deeper from within your stomach causing you to hold onto it with both hands as the giggles ate you alive.

Ellie lets the smile on her face break, and then after hearing you kick your feet against the floor she erupts too, leaning over a bit to join in.

“You got so scared!” she exclaims, which only sends you further into a fit of laughter, breathing heavily for a few seconds and then starting right back up again.

“It was… It was so loud! An– and long?!?”

Ellie eventually joins you on the floor, laughing hard enough to where a vein is popping from her neck, just noticeable enough to where if you reached your hand out to touch it, you could even feel her pulse.

She looks over at you, seeing your eyes pinched shut and your smile wider than she’s ever seen it before. It was incredible.

As your laughter subsides, your eyes find their way to Ellie’s. Watching you, of course.

“Oh,” you say with the smallest giggle attached, then letting it fall away to join the burning embers that lifted the hair off your skin.

She smiled at you, fully now with no hesitation. “Can I draw you?” she asked, not looking away once. Her voice became a little rusted, and it chipped on its way out of her throat like a stone on pavement.

You fought the urge to crack. “Sure.” you said instead, and looked away from her quickly just to pull your eyes back to her slightly parted lips.

Ellie’s smile faltered a moment, resting on her side next to you. She didn't want to get up. She wanted to keep this image of you alive inside her head for the rest of her life. She wanted to keep you forever. Obviously she knew she couldn’t. She’d fuck it up sooner or later.

“What?” you ask, gaping at her with so much love plastered on your cheeks it almost looked fake. Too saturated. Too real. Ellie had the urge to swipe the pad of her thumb across it just to see if it would smudge. She knew it wouldn’t. She just wanted an excuse.

Instead, Ellie glanced away –finally– and lifted a hand to the right side of your face, tucking a single strand of hair behind your ear gently. You froze.

“Just um, put this right here.” she whispered.

Her eyes were glued on yours. The beautiful emerald that made your heart freeze in time just jumped into a millions beats per minute with the touch of her hand alone.

Ellie’s hand was still hovering over your jaw, like she was afraid you would fade away if she let you go.

But she had to. She knew that, some part of her had to know that.

Her hand fell back at her side, and Ellie cleared her throat one more time.

“Um, stay just stay how you are. I’ll draw you just like this, yeah?” you were too stunned to speak, so you nodded once and swallowed back the butterflies that had just burst in your stomach.

“Okay.” you could hear the smile in her voice as she got up on her feet in one quick motion, leaving you to stare mindlessly at the door.

You felt like you were posing naked for her somehow, like she had stripped you clean and she would be basing her art off of you. You hated how self conscious you suddenly felt, but selfishly you loved how excited she got.

And just like that, you're burning up again, your cheeks catch the flint and light is bursting from beneath your skin.

You smother it. You act calm, and cool, and not like you are the horniest you've ever been around someone you could never have.

You don’t move a muscle when Ellie sets down pads of paper, jars of brushes, ink, parchment paper, water color, and charcoal all within a minute or two and is sitting down next to you again.

She put her hands to her mouth, unable to keep her excitement hidden. “Okay. Um. Just, uh, yeah just stay exactly how you are. Try not to move. Or laugh.” you can’t help but let the smirk sink into your face before playfully scoffing under your breath.

You followed her instructions word for word. You didn’t move. No matter how badly you had to pee. You wouldn’t move until she was done.

And so far, it felt like you had been posing for what felt like 2 hours based on how many pieces of paper Ellie had already used, and the fact that the water was completely dark with no more room for ink. Or that her fingers were coated in charcoal and it had smudged on her face as she tried relentlessly to keep the stray hair behind her ear.

But you watched her. You watched her hands dance across the paper like skin. Your skin. –on paper anyway– You noticed her tongue dipping in and out of her mouth as she concentrated on capturing the curve of your arm and the texture of your jeans that made you want to crawl out of them.

Ellie couldn't get the images of you on paper fast enough. There were so many. She had to get it absolutely perfect: the slope of your nose, your crooked hairline caused from laying on your side, the delicacy of your fingers as they rested on the curve of your hip. She had to get all of them out right now or else she would have to keep memorizing and sketching and staring.

Secretly, she wanted to keep a few for herself too. To remind herself that you were real, and that she had you at one point. Ellie only had so much ink and charcoal left, but she didn’t care, she would use it all. She would draw you a million times if it meant you would look at her like this just one more time. She would do anything… anything for you. If she just had the chance, she’d take it. Instead of running away to catch the lungs that were sprinting away from her.

But she would try, with all the power and love she's ever had. She would give it all to you, and you wouldn’t even have to ask. Ellie would give it up willingly, she would beg you to take it from her and say “I don't know what to do with it.”

“Hm?” you ask from your position on the floor. “Do with what?” and her eyes flickered towards you.

She forgot you were really there. That you weren’t another dream. That you could see her.

Ellie cleared her throat and her voice broke when she spoke again.

“Um, the drawing. It’s done. I don’t know what to do with it.” she looked at you one last time before you shot up from the floor and sat next to her.

“Can I see it?!” you said, cheery like a child who had just had their picture taken in a cardboard cutout stand.

“Yeah.”

Ellie turned the pad over to you, and just when she thought she hated it you covered your mouth with both hands and let in a sharp inhale.

You were quiet for a moment, and Ellie was still a little worried you saw right through her until you turned to look at her with tears pooling in your eyes.

“Oh, Ellie. Holy shit. This is the best one yet.”

She let herself feel a little proud then, a smile fighting its way onto her face once again. She never knew why she was always fighting it, it would happen nearly every single time.

“That’s just because I made you look so good.” and she nudged you a little.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m serious. It’s beautiful Els.” and you turned away to look back at the drawing before blinking away the tears in your eyes.

There’s a moment there, where the two of you are staring at… you. “No one’s ever drawn me before. It's weird looking at myself like this.” and you then felt Ellie’s eyes burn the side of your face, begging for you to look at her.

You tilt your head slightly, not stripping your eyes away from the page until the very last second.

Ellie was blushing. She was fucking blushing.

She looked away the second your eyes had found hers.

“Here, you can have it.” and she folded the page into your hand and held it there for a beat.

A beat too long.

The glass was clearing up, the fog dissipating into thin air at lightning speed.

You cleared your throat in hopes to silently slice the tension that was building around the two of you.

“Thanks.” you let your eyes fall to your lap. “We should uh, probably get ready.”

Ellie looks away again, patting her thighs as she exhales swiftly. “Yeah. Yeah, let's do it.”

“Come on, I don’t wanna be the last one there! It’s already started.”

You leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, actually watching Ellie fix her hair. It was pulled back into a low bun, and the layered pieces kept falling forward, not wanting to swoop back with the rest of it.

“I just, I can’t get this fucking— oh, god dammit!” she exclaimed, letting her hands fly out at her sides and grip the edge of the bathroom counter to take a breath.

“Here, let me help you.”

You took a step off the frame, pulling a pin from your hair and gently stepping up to Ellie to slide the pin into place. You must have accidentally got her scalp because she squeezed one eye shut and let a small wince escape her lips.

“Sorry.” you said, and tapped the pin to make sure it was snug.

You felt Ellie’s eyes on you from the reflection of the mirror. Of course. They were burning into you like the reflection of a magnifying glass.

Ellie’s hands grip harder on the countertop, watching your delicate fingers play with the pin. Collecting strands of her hair and then gently sweeping them behind it as gently as she can so as not to poke you again.

“Thanks.” she says instead, and lets go of the counter with a gentle push. Her hands have a red mark from her grip that when she flexes her hands, she feels her skin pull with resistance.

“Yeah.” you look away, even though you feel the warmth radiating off of her. Sending something through you.

“Okay. Let's go before we’re stuck outside. I heard they are checking for ID." There's a joke somewhere in her voice, but it gets buried by the sudden feeling of your hand twisted in yours.

“Ellie, your hand is freezing.” you say, entirely missing the joke she was trying to make and placing your other hand around hers.

She looked down to see her hand barely covered by both of yours, and she lets the feeling of your skin melt into hers like molten lava.

She was always lighting you on fire. Now, you were warming her up, meeting her halfway.

The dance was better than Ellie had expected. The room was full of people in cowboy boots and actually square dancing. Not just in the movies like she thought.

And you were smiling from ear to ear, happy to see so many people laughing and having fun while they still could. So of course Ellie was happy to be there. She fucking lived to see you smile like you were right now.

“I’m gonna get a drink, do you want anything?” Ellie said against your neck, yelling over the music.

“No! I’m gonna dance.” and she nodded, eager to let go of your hand. She didn’t want to lose you in the crowd. She didn’t want to lose you, period. But of course, she would eventually.

Your hand fell from hers as you made your way into the line dance, knocking your feet back and forth on its heel and toe while clapping your hands along to the music that was actually ‘not that bad’.

Ellie’s standing at the bar, a drink in her hand with no intention of actually drinking it. She wasn’t that big a drinker, but she wanted to keep herself busy while trying so hard not to stare at you from across the room.

It wasn't working, obviously.

She was actually glad she came, because she had never seen you this… bright. You were floating across the dancefloor like some kind of angel. She couldn’t place you. Not here anyway. You looked so out of place, with your smile wide and cheeks completely beet red from dancing, it's like you were more saturated than everyone else, like you were literally glowing.

She snaps out of it when she sees you heading over to her, a smile plastered on your face and sweat beading just above your top lip.

“Oh jeez, they weren’t kidding.” you say to her, out of breath and laughing a little.

“Who?” she asks.

“Tommy and Maria. When we were all putting the flyers up they said it would definitely be an owl here.” and you couldn’t keep it together, laughing into your hand and leaning forward into Ellie’s shoulder.

“That… was terrible.” she smirks.

She loved it.

You pull back, flexing your hands out wide at your sides before letting out a short exhale. “No, but seriously. You guys might not party very often, but when you do it gets crazy. I was drowning out there!”

“You seemed to be doing fine to me.” Ellie offered up. She was flushed.

“Oh yeah? You try going out there. It’s not as easy as it looks.” and you tilted your head playfully, emphasizing your point.

She looked down at her glass then, breaking away quick enough to avoid your eyes.

“That’s what I thought. Now, where is the bathroom?”

And Ellie took the smallest sip from her glass just before pointing to her right and bending her wrist the same direction. “Through the doors and on the right.”

You smiled at her, touching her arm with clammy hands. “Hey, dance with me when I come back?” your grasp on her was slipping away, waiting for her answer before letting go completely.

“Yeah. Sure.”

You beamed, completely unable to hide it this time. You thought you maybe didn’t have to, that you would maybe… finally… be able to clean this goddamn window for good.

You call out to her before disappearing, “Oh hey, you were right! Dina’s here!”

The second Ellie registers what you said, suddenly Dina has appeared into thin air and is dancing with someone a few feet away.

And again, a few moments later, Jesse appears from your left, a matching glass in his hand.

“She’s uh… putting on quite the show.” he says, and it's then that she looks up at her, watching as she gets dipped and the music fades out.

“I give you guys two weeks until you're back together.” and she chuckles.

“Not gonna happen.”

She looks away from him briefly, glancing into her drink that’s gone warm.

“She uh, say something to you?” Jesse asks before looking at her again.

“Make it one week.”

While Ellie’s attention is turned towards Jesse, just then Dina comes over and draws it back toward her.

“Ellie, hey!”

Jesse adjusts his posture, standing taller. It’s so obvious he wants her back.

Dina takes the drink from your hand, shooting it back and placing it on the bar behind you with a thud.

“Dina.” he says, lifting his glass, almost like he was offering it up to her.

“Jesse.” is all she says instead, eyeing him slowly.

“C’mon,” she says, and grabs Ellie’s hand.

“Wait, I was gonna–” but it's no use, because Jesse is talking over you from the bar.

“Hey! Don’t forget we're headin’ out early, so get some rest!” and before Ellie can even look back at him all the way, Dina is already talking again.

“Yes sir.”

Ellie is looking down at her feet, trying not to trip over them as Dina continues to pull her farther into the crowd of people.

“You're such a dick.” she murmured.

Dina’s hands fell easily on her shoulders moments after she placed Ellie’s on her waist.

Just then, you came out from the bathroom trying to pick through the crowd to find her, seeing the empty glass and missing spot from the bar.

You make your way over to Jesse, who you were kind of surprised to see there since he wasn’t much of a partier.

You go to ask where Ellie went, if she had somehow missed her walking into the bathroom… but the words die in your throat when you see her smack dead in the middle of the floor, with Dina rubbing her cheek against Ellie’s and a sly smile on her face.

“I hate these things.” Jesse said.

You glance over at him, noticing he was watching Ellie and Dina too.

“Tell me about it.” you say, looking back at Dina.

She has her arm wrapped around Ellie’s neck, a single hand pulling the same strand of hair that has been falling out of place all day.

The same one you pinned. The same girl who had drawn you just 2 hours ago.

The same girl… that was kissing Dina.

She… she kissed her.

Your windows shattered, shards falling to the floor like needles and with the heartbeat that had been run over and sliced clean in half.

You feel yourself wince at the sight, and before you think twice, you're up from the bar and leave through the back.

You fucking blew it.

Ellie’s hands were stuffed deep inside her pockets, walking around Jackson like a lost puppy.

She hadn’t seen you since the dance. Which to you both felt like a lot longer.

She looked for you afterward, apologizing to Dina before pulling away from her to ask if anyone had seen where you went, if anyone saw you leave with Jesse and wondering what the fuck just happened.

When you got home, the second you closed the door behind you you couldn't help but let the hot tears stream down your frosted cheeks.

You had tried so hard, so hard to let Ellie see how much of her you liked, and completely obvious you made it seem.

You posed for her. Not naked, but the act still made you think it was worth something. So much so that when you pulled her drawing from your backpocket, slightly smudged from dancing all night and when you had pulled it out on your way home contemplating throwing it away.

You shoved it under your pillow instead, climbing in bed shortly after and rocking yourself to sleep and trying to get the image of Ellie’s lips out of your mind.

Ellie showed up the next morning, knocking on your locked bedroom door.

It had scared her, how raw her voice sounded, and how at the same time it had never sounded softer than when she said “Hey, you in there?”

And when you didn’t reply, you could hear her let out a small sigh before stepping away from the door.

You pulled your covers tight over your head and shut your eyes tight with regret.

Eventually, you realized you had to get up to go to work. It was cold out, but luckily you had gotten to work in the greenhouse since it was a low leveled job and you enjoyed it. Plus the warmth helped too.

The greenhouse door was cracked open by a hair, a dead giveaway you were inside. You still never figured out how to latch it all the way closed, and it seemed to get heavier each time you went to move it.

Ellie pulled her lip to the side, nibbling nervously on the inside of her cheek. She felt so fucking stupid, letting Dina kiss her like that. Letting her dance with her. She was such a fuck up, as per usual.

She was walking around aimlessly, bored, and confused.

She didn't know what to do without you. It was so routine with the two of you.

You would meet Ellie at the stables after her patrol shift was over (which was usually in the mornings) and then you would hang out together at hers. And she would usually find you in the dining hall or the library if you were scheduled there.

But since the dance, she hadn’t known where you were, and it's like she had never been to this version of Jackson without you in it.

She had, years ago, but she could never remember what it was really like. Almost as if it didn’t really exist without you.

And just as she was about to head home, with the sun barely peeking out from behind the clouds, she spotted the multiple greenhouses. With one in particular that had a light striking a clear view of you inside.

Ellie pulled her hands from her pockets, a close lipped smile breaking on her face instantly.

She nudged the door with her body and her head barely visible to you from the other side.

But you felt her there. You didn’t know how, but you could tell she was standing outside the door before you saw her.

“Holy shit it's warm in here. Now I see why you always pick this over patrol.” and she watched as you plucked leaves from the tarragon plant.

“What are you doing?” you asked, not looking at her.

Your hands started to shake mildly, and you tried not to give into her eyes that burned a hole in your heart.

“Looking for you. I Thought I’d find you here.” she said, closing the door all the way (of course she'd be able to) and fumbled with her hands, a little nervous.

“I’m almost done here. I just need to take these clippings and a few other things.” your hands carry a tremble now, and Ellie can see it.

She takes a step closer to you, and it's unavoidable not to look at her now.

“Can we talk about last night?” Ellie asks with her hand flat against the workbench and her brows are pulled together in a frown.

“There's nothing to talk about. I just… I wanted to go home. I didn’t wanna bother you and Dina. you seemed like you were having fun.” as you tied the twine around the clippings, Ellie's hand covered yours on an exploded scale.

You turn your head, looking at her and seeing right through her.

“C’mon. Don’t be like that. Dina… was just being Dina. She didn’t mean anything by it.” Ellie's thumb started to form small circles on your skin, drawing you in, inch by inch.

Ellie took a small step toward you, her other hand reaching up and cooling the burning of your neck.

She leaned in toward you, and her lips grazed yours before kissing you softly. It was wrong, it was so so wrong.

You closed your eyes and a single tear rolled down your cheek fast enough to transfer to Ellie’s.

You pull your hand back from hers, taking a complete step backward and trying to conceal the tears that wanted to run down your cheeks freely.

“Do you like me, Ellie?”

The words had shocked the look off her face, only for her to reposition her brows into a confused glare.

“What?”

“Do you like me.” and there is a quiver in your voice. Her figure becomes blurry, but before she disappears completely you tilt your head and wipe your tears on the sleeve of your shirt.

“I– Yeah. Yeah, I like you. Why would I kiss you if I didn’t like you?”

“Why would Dina?”

Her head drops down between her shoulders as she sighed. She didn’t know. She didn’t. But she knew that she would rather freeze to death than lose you, she knew that much.

She pulled her lips between her teeth “I– I don’t know. I- She- Dina kissed me, okay? And she asked me to dance. I didnt– I wanted to dance with you, I wanted to…” she couldn’t say it.

“What?”

“I wanted to kiss you, alright. I wanted to even before then. Before the dance or before the stables. From the moment you got here I knew. I just didn’t know. I do now, I swear.”

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to say everything, anything. Your lips were sealed with hot tears streaming down your face.

“Can you say something?” Her voice is merely a whisper like a jagged piece of ice dragging across your skin just light enough to form goosebumps.

You pinch your eyes shut and let your hands shakily wipe the salt water from your face.

“I– I… Ellie. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, this…”

She takes a small step toward you, grabbing a hold of your wrists gently enough for your back to meet the opposite wall of the greenhouse and boxing you in around the floor to ceiling plants that were on either side of you.

“Just, say something, please.” Ellie gave your wrists a little shake, freeing them from your face.

She looked worried now, and the thought of her thinking you didn’t like her sent a strike of sadness through you.

You move your hands fully away from your face and let them fall at your sides, lacing your fingers with Ellie’s slowly. She’s looking down at them, and swinging them softly from side to side.

“I… I liked you too. From the beginning I mean. In the dining hall when you sat next to me. I liked you then, I still do.” you confessed.

You felt the fire in your cheeks and you couldn’t meet Ellie’s eyes and you made way with her chest.

She leaned down an inch to place her forehead together with yours. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You let out a breath, a scoff even. “I tried! I was trying this entire time. And plus, you just said you realized you liked me. I wasn’t sure.”

Her words rang through you. You shook with anticipation.

“Is that why you left last night? Because you were jealous?” and Ellie’s voice rose to a mocking tone, tugging on your hands in a playful manner.

“Shut up. I was not.” and you look away, the smile bolted across your face proudly.

“You were! Say it, say it please! Tell me how jealous you were. C’mon, tell me tell me tell me!”

And it's then that you smash your lips against Ellie’s to meet her halfway with just the very tip of your toes.

Her lips were warm with lust, her hands breaking from yours to find the soft spots behind your ears with a swipe. Ellie exhaled into your mouth immediately and your head met the back wall of the greenhouse with a soft thud.

Her tongue swiped against your bottom lip, begging for entrance that was obviously unnecessary by how quickly you parted your lips for her. She rubbed slow circles over your jaw, and soon enough her hand was traveling down the curve of your hip and squeezing there. Just enough to express a moan from you.

Ellie smirked against your lips, drawing back for a breath before kissing you harder now, not hesitating or double checking for dominance. You were absolutely floored.

Your shirt had ridden up just mere inches, and her hand was met with the small piece of bare flesh there, causing you to let in a sharp inhale through your nose.

Both of Ellie’s hands are playing with the button of your jeans, fighting to get them undone and pulled down just below your pulsing cunt.

Once her hand finally finds the band of your underwear, it's over. You were already completely unfolding right in front of her.

Your mouth falls open, and a moan slips from your lips, a little louder now as you arch your back to be flush with Ellie. She bends back the band of elastic, traveling down to reach the very top of your pussy she can already feel how wet you are for her.

Just then, both of your hands fly to grip her inked forearm. A silent warning.

“Your hand… ‘s cold.” is all you can make out.

Ellie pulls back to take a look at you. You're absolutely flushed. “D’you want me to stop?” It was genuine. She wanted this to be perfect for you. She wanted to get it right.

“I– I want to keep going, but I-” and Ellie uncoiled her hand from beneath your pants to rest it on your hip.

“I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t ready for.” she let her arms straighten against you, waiting for you to reply.

“I’m ready. Really. I just don’t really wanna… do it here. It’s kinda dirty. And also probably illegal. And I really do have to take that stuff in.”

Ellie smiled. “You’re cute. Why don’t we take them together, and then, if you want, we can go hang out at mine?”

You looked at her with a tight lipped grin. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

#it’s cold here without you #ellie williams #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #ellie williams smut #tlou2 #the last of us smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie williams x you #bellswlw

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souliebird · 1 year

Text

[[and then I met you || ch. 2]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1

words: 6.3k

tag list:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen

"Mommy, look!"

Minnie calls out from the living room and you look up from finishing up an invoice. She is plopped on the ground, surrounded by a sea of crayons, proudly holding up her latest masterpiece: a series of different colored overlapping circles. You, as usual, have no idea what you are supposed to be looking at, but that doesn't stop the support you give your daughter.

"That's so good, Mouse. You picked such pretty colors." She beams at you and you return the smile, your heart feeling so full. You love her so much and you want only the best for her and you hope - pray - bringing her father into her life is the right choice.

Your meeting with Matt went so much better than you ever thought it could go. He wants to be in Minnie's life and that makes you nervously excited. You have absolutely no inkling of how things are going to change moving forward, and a huge part of you is terrified but another part can't wait for Minnie and Matt to get to know each other. You keep going over your admittedly short conversation trying to remember all the little tics you saw that reminded you of Minnie. You want to know what else she inherited from him.

You tell yourself those thoughts are for later and force them away so you can get back to work. It is getting close to bedtime and you have a few things to tidy up before you can clock out.

Luckily, Minnie has gone back to her drawing, scribbling away while Scooby Doo plays silently on the television and you are able to work in peace. Ten minutes later, you close out your VPN and leisurely stretch out in your chair, watching your little angel do her thing.

You are worried about her reactions to the change. Unfortunately, one of the things she got from you is your anxiety - your little one's nickname is Mouse for a reason. She is a quiet timid little thing who loves to watch and observe - like a little church mouse. You joke you need to put a bell on her because she can walk right by you without making a single noise. Her quiet nature doesn't mesh well with strangers.

You've been taking her to daycare more, hoping socializing will help, and it has, but that is worth other kids. You don't know how she'll react to a new adult in her life who she would have a more casual relationship with. You have no family and the few friends you have have known her since she was a baby.

Minnie knows what a dad is but she's never asked where hers is and you certainly haven’t brought it up to her.

But now you have to.

You need to figure out what the best approach would be. You know it has to be slow and steady, but you don't know if you should introduce Matt to her as her father or not. The biggest change she's been through is going to daycare and that took ages. She hated it.

She hates being around strangers for extended periods.

Out and about? She is okay. She's shy and likes to hide behind your leg instead of talking to people, but she doesn't complain.

But when she has to sit and interact with someone new? She can get fussy. It's not just her being shy, she gets physically uncomfortable.

She has no problems if it's just the two of you or someone she knows, but strangers? It can turn into a tantrum, depending on her mood.

You've discovered a few methods to make her more comfortable. You have about fifteen pairs of child sized noise canceling headphones, your bag is full of little things to distract her, and she has her Pig.

You think introducing her to Matt where she can sit and color and block him out if she wants is the best course of action and to achieve that, you don't think you can tell her the truth right away. She might feel some pressure to Behave because Dad is an authority figure. Not to mention what she would feel if she started asking questions; like why he hasn’t been around.

She's curious but she's also three and unpredictable.

She could immediately go into tantrum mode.

She could not care at all and want to color instead.

You hope Matt understands all of this and doesn't want to jump right into being a Father.

Whatever that entails.

A change in colors and tones on the television catches your attention and you push yourself away from your desk.

"Okay, sweetie, Scooby is over, time to get ready for bed."

Minnie finishes her scribble then drops the crayon on the ground. You wait as she climbs up onto her feet and starts to pick up her mess - her crayons go into a pail one at a time. You don't know what goes on in her mind, but as long as she's doing what she is supposed to be, you don't rush her.

There's no lollygagging with your sweet girl, anyways. Once the crayons are in their bucket, she puts that under the coffee table, then picks up her drawing pad and brings it to you. You scoop her up and start towards the bedroom, as she admires her drawings.

"What do you want to read tonight?" You ask.

"Spot!" is the instant reply and you should have guessed that. You've been reading the same book for over a week now, but you don't mind. You'd rather read the same thing over and over than hunt for something she does want to read for an hour.

Getting ready for bed is something that usually goes smoothly and you are lucky tonight is no different. Minnie is already in her pajamas, so it's just turning down the sheets and getting her all tucked in before you start to read. You keep an eye on the time as you do - you have a half hour before Matt said he would call.

If he does call.

He said he would and you are trying to be hopeful that he will. You've been disappointed so many times in the past - not just by lovers but everyone. People promise to call, to text, to follow up and they never do. They say you can do something together then cancel at the last minute. You are used to that disappointment, but you don't want Minnie to experience that. You want her to feel loved and wanted.

You know it's not fair to Matt, but to you the call is a sort of test he doesn't know he is taking.

Will he call? Will he call on time?

The more you think about the call, the more anxious you get. There's too many thoughts starting to gather.

The meeting could have been a fluke and now that he's thought it over, he doesn't want to be a dad.

Or he wants to be a dad but not with You. What if you are the problem?

"Mommy," Minnie shakes you out of your thoughts, looking up at you with big brown eyes. "Next page!"

You nod and force your focus back to the book, turning the next page and letting your daughter open and close all the flaps that hide different elements to the story while you read. It's hard to get lost in the simple words and story, but Minnie is used to her routine and by the time you reach the last page, she's leaning heavier into your side.

You place the book on her nightstand, trading it for her sleep headband. She tilts her head forward and you help get the band on and snuggly over her ears.

"How's that feel, Mouse?"

"Quiet," Minnie replies, like she does every night, sliding down under her blankets. Her little hands tug at the band so the sleep mask part is over her eyes. You smile, forever grateful your little one likes to sleep. You wait while she settles, then kiss both of her cheeks.

"Sweet dreams, my little angel."

"Sweet dreams, Mommy," she replies, voice full of sleep. You triple check she's tucked in nice and snug and that Pig is within reach, then turn off the light. You leave the door open a crack, just in case, then return to the living room.

There's a small mess leftover from dinner and you start cleaning that up. Usually, after you put Minnie down for bed, you'd enjoy a few hours of television or catching up on whatever you needed to, but after finishing the dishes, you don't know what to do.

There's only a handful of minutes until the promised call time and all you can do is just stand in the kitchen. You debate going to get a notebook so you can keep notes, but you don't want to have the whole conversation about how you want to move forward over the phone. Maybe you jot down ideas of what you two want to cover in person? Matt might have questions you haven't even thought of yet.

You should find a pen and paper. It's better to be prepared than not. You tell yourself that but you still don't move. You just stare at your phone.

As the seconds creep by your throat starts to get tight.

What are you going to do if he doesn't call?

Would it be awkward to call him instead? Or is that overbearing? You don't want to come off as overbearing - that might make Matt view you in a negative light and that would definitely have consequences in his relationship with Minnie. You desperately want that relationship to be good and not be influenced by any issues the two of you might have. You would hate yourself if the reason Matt didn't want to be around Minnie was you.

The thought makes your stomach twist.

You're definitely not going to call him tonight if he doesn't call you. You can send a text in the morning - something with no pressure.

But he said he preferred calls instead of text.

Would a call be accusatory? You feel like a morning call would be accusatory.

You can push it to the afternoon, that would give him time to call in the morning, as well.

You're ripped from your paranoid thoughts as your phone screen lights up with Matt's name. Shock overtakes your system and it takes a moment before you scramble to answer.

You state your name as your greeting, totally trying to pretend you weren't just spiraling.

"Hey, it's Matt.. Matt Murdock."

His words are soft spoken, on the edge of shy, and it throws you. You understand why his nerves would be rattled but you didn't think he'd advertise that. Your brain screams at you to comfort him and you focus on that instead of your own panic.

"Hey…um, how are you doing?"

Matt chuckles into your ear, low and throaty, making the knot your stomach has become loosen a bit, "Adjusting." He pauses a beat, then adds, "I can't stop thinking about you and Winifred…Minnie."

Your cheeks burn.

You can't tell him you haven't stopped thinking about him either - that feels like a very weird thing to admit, even if it is the truth.

You don't know what to say, so your mouth decides for you, blurting out, "I didn't think you'd call…"

"You didn't…?" The undercurrent of hurt in his voice makes you feel like you've kicked a puppy. You quickly backtrack.

"I have a tendency to overthink and get in my head," you say, hoping you aren't coming off like an idiot. "I worked myself up."

You turn your back to the kitchen counter, then slide down the cabinets until you are sitting on the ground. You bring your knees up, using them to prop up your elbows.

"I'm glad you did call," you admit, asking your mind to please stop, "I'm sorry, this is awkward, can we start over?"

"Of course," Matt's voice is soft in your ear, but you can hear him smiling, "Should I hang up and call back?"

"No, no, not that far back," you practically mumble, biting your lip. "How about…was your meeting okay? Can I ask that or is it attorney - client privilege?"

Matt hums, sounding like he's thinking over the answer, before answering, "No, that's not covered. It was pretty standard for that client - whether that means it went okay is up for interpretation. No one is in jail, so I would consider it a win."

You aren't sure what that means, but you want to be supportive. "That sounds like a win."

"What about you, how was your evening?"

The question makes you laugh a little, only because you think you live a very boring life, "Very quiet and calm. No one ended up in jail on this end either."

"So not a family of trouble makers?" Matt asks, a slight tease in his voice.

You smile into your knees, replying with a shy, "No, I'm afraid we're rather boring. I hope that is okay."

"I think it's a win."

Oh, you forgot how charming he was.

He carries on, voice dropping back to a softer tone, "What does a quiet and calm night mean for the two of you?"

You consider the question with a little smile before answering, "We usually start with a nice walk to the park. Minnie likes to play in the afternoon, there's less kids to hog the see-saw."

"She likes the see-saw?"

"She loves the see-saw," you say, smiling at the memory of your daughter on the playground. "She likes to…bounce? The see-saw lets her go high. She's too small for bounce houses, so she gets her fix where she can." Matt huffs a laugh into your ear and you continue on, "After the park, it's standard toddler afternoon stuff. Dinner and a bath. Playtime and television before bed. I work from home, so I usually get a few hours in before Minnie gets put down for bed. Then, um, more work for me. Or paying bills. Online shopping. Adult things I can do from the couch."

"You work from home?" Matt asks and you can't remember if you had previously mentioned that. Your whole previous conversation is now suddenly a total question mark.

"Yeah, um, I work in billing. The company is in international shipping, so time zones aren't really an issue. As long as I log forty hours a week, I can break it up as I want. It makes being a working mom a lot easier." You nibble your lip, unsure about what to really say, so you say the obvious, "You have your own law firm?"

"I do. You met my partners earlier, Foggy and Karen," he sounds proud, just a little bit, and that warms your heart.

"I read about a few of your cases last night," you admit, "The papers said you help a lot of people."

Matt doesn't respond right away, but when he does, you find yourself smiling more. "We try to. People here are getting by paycheck to paycheck, they can't afford a lawyer when their landlords try to push them out so they can get someone in to pay higher rent. They need someone to fight for them, and this is our community - Foggy and I grew up here. This is our city." He pauses and you can picture him scrunching up his brow, "You said you saw the interview last night. You had time to read over our cases?"

Embarrassment courses through you.

"Only what was in the news and I didn't read in depth. I just…" You shrug, even though you are talking over the phone, "I wanted to make sure it was in Minnie's best interest to reach out." You bite your lip again then, wanting to be honest with Matt, you add, "I mean, we only spent one night together and we didn't really discuss…much. I knew you were a lawyer, but you could have been like…a lawyer for some awful celebrity or something. If you were out there and the papers were saying you were vile I wouldn't have just…shown up at your doorstep. Metaphorically. I only have your work address."

"That makes sense," Matt replies and you have the feeling he really does get it, "you want to keep her safe, to keep both of you safe. I'd do the same in your position. Actually…I guess I do need to do the same, because we don't really know anything about each other." He pauses, then teases, "Unless there's news articles about you I need to catch up on?"

You huff at the thought, "No, nothing that I am aware of."

"Then we will have to do it the old fashion way."

"Lunch." The words tumble out of your mouth and you resist the urge to bang your head against the cabinets. "We, uh, mentioned lunch. We could use that as a starting point? Give each other our People Resumes."

Matt laughs a little and it's warm, not mocking. You still bury your face into your knees.

"People Resumes - I like that. I have some pretty good references, if you need."

"I only have the one," you mumble, keeping your face hidden despite being alone. He laughs again.

"I think it's a pretty good one, though."

That makes you smile, "The best one around."

There's a beat where neither of you talk and you wonder what else to add.

"Will she be coming to lunch?" He asks, voice switching from confident and charming to slightly timid. Once again you are reminded of a kicked puppy and it makes your heart ache.

"I would like that," you start slowly and Matt seems to sense you have more to say, as he waits for you to continue. "I wanted to discuss it with you, first."

"Of course," his reply is so eager. "Anything."

"I was thinking…I think it would be best if Minnie gets to know you first before we tell her who you are. It's been the two of us for so long, I don't know how she'll react to a big change. I can introduce the idea to her over time, start talking to her about family and stuff while you two bond?" As you talk, the words start coming out a little faster as your nerves start to come back. "I think telling her up front might make her uncomfortable because like, you'll have a Title and Authority and that would override other things. I don't want to push her into anything she's not ready for yet."

You press your face into your knees and wait for Matt's reaction. You can hear him breathing and the slight clinking of what sounds like ice in a glass and you hope he understands your concerns.

He says your name so very softly and a shiver goes through you. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip and wait for the ax to fall.

"I think that would be a really good way to do things," Matt practically breathes into the receiver.

You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and relief just washes over you. "I…don't want to scare her." He hesitates, then starts in a stronger voice, "did your articles mention that I grew up in an orphanage?" They did and you say as much. "I was older than a lot of the kids and the little ones were scared of that. Scared of being adopted by strangers. I remember being scared of that. I got placed in a few foster homes and I hated being around people I didn't know." He takes a breath and it's a little shaky, "I want her to want me as her father."

Your heart skips in your chest and you bury your face into your knees more. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, Matt. You have a good heart, that's what matters. You just have to get to know each other, spend time together."

Matt hums softly into your ear, "Not just her, you as well."

"Me?" You ask, confused.

"You," he repeats. "I want to know the mother of my child. Of course I want to get to know you. You're the most important person in her life."

You just hadn't thought of that at all - your concern has been over Minnie. It completely makes sense that he would want to get to know you. He isn't just now in Minnie's life, but in your life.

You chew on your lips in thought, "Is…um.. Is there anything you'd like to know?"

"How about," he says, after a moment of thought, "the equivalent of what you read about me? That way we are on an even footing."

That wasn't the answer you expected but it makes a bit of sense in your head. You think about what you learned in the papers about Matt Murdock.

You start off by saying where you were born then move onto simple facts, "We moved to Long Island when I was about five and I lived there until I was eighteen. I moved into the city for school - Empire State University. I didn't know what I wanted to do so I got a degree in business. I figured I'd have a good foundation with that, you know? I got a pretty decent job in accounting - I'm still there actually. I uh…am a billing administrator…"

"Your parents?" Matt asks tentatively, like he already knows the answer.

"Gone." You say quietly, but firmly. Your parents aren't something you want to talk about and you hope he understands that. "It is just Minnie and I. And now you..."

"And now me…"

You can hear the smile in his voice and it makes you start to smile.

"I have no idea how to be a father," he admits after a beat.

"It's okay, I didn't know how to be a mother. I'm still learning - I've read stuff and some things don't apply to Minnie. Or the opposite, she does something and I can't find anything that applies? And it's not like I'm just gonna drop her on you and disappear. It's…I want you to be comfortable as well? That's why I think just meeting each other will be a good start. We can go from there? Do little hang outs and stuff and build up, if that's what you want," you know you're starting to ramble but you keep going. "I think somewhere she is comfortable would be good? There's a diner in Hell's Kitchen she really likes - we could meet there for lunch? If she gets too overwhelmed, I can give her something to distract her, but you can still interact with her? She's a bit shy around new people and pressuring her to really…um.. engage might be a lot? A big thing for her is parallel play, so I'm hoping maybe just hanging out around you if she's nervous might help until she's more comfortable?"

You close your eyes tightly, a little embarrassed at your dumping of ideas, but Matt takes it all in stride, giving a curious, "What is parallel play?"

You lick your lips before answering, "Being in the same space, but doing your own thing? Like two kids coloring together but not talking."

"Ah, I got it. I didn't know there was an actual name for that." There's another pause and you can hear ice clinking against glass again. You wonder if you should get up off your kitchen floor and get yourself a drink, but you decide against it. The only thing you should be drinking is water. "What is the diner?"

You tell him the name of the diner and to your surprise, he chuckles, "I know the place. It's on the same block as Foggy's parents' butcher shop. She has good taste."

"When she gets fussy and doesn't want to eat anything, it's something I know she'll always eat. She'll have her own booth by the time she's five."

Matt laughs again and you can feel all the anxiety you had before the call bleeding away. He's been open to everything you've had to say so far and there's been no hint of negative feelings.

Maybe things will be okay.

"She can share Foggy's booth," Matt says, no idea your mind keeps trying to freak out over nothing. "We went there for lunch almost every day when we were working out of the shop."

"You worked out of a butcher's shop?" You ask, thinking you must be misinterpreting something.

"We did," he says, sounding a little sheepish, "I took a hiatus from…everything really and Foggy went to work for another firm. While we were reestablishing, his parents graciously allowed us to work out of their shop."

Part of you wants to ask about his hiatus, but the way he says it gives you a feeling you should leave it alone, so you do. You focus on another aspect instead. "So we've been going to the same diner, we just kept missing each other."

It is sobering to say - the father of your child was always right there, but fate let you skirt around each other for years. It hurts to think about, your mind whispering at you if you had just tried harder to look for him, you would have found Matt. If you had just seen him earlier, how different would things be? What if you had been there at the same time, but you just hadn't been paying attention to your surroundings? It isn't like he knew to be on the lookout for a fling from years ago - how would he have even noticed you?

You wonder if he is thinking the same thing - that you probably missed each other because you weren't paying attention.

"Don't do that," your attention is yanked away from your guilt by Matt's strong voice, "I can hear you thinking, blaming yourself."

"Is it that obvious?" You ask quietly, cringing just a little bit. Are you really such a mess he can tell over the phone?

"You said you overthink and work yourself up. You got quiet, so I assumed and I guess I was right. There's no way you could have known and why would you have been looking there?" He sounds so sure you feel guilty over feeling guilty.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. There's nothing to apologize for."

You bite your lip then force your head up and away from your knees. You should get up and get a drink - change how your body is. Maybe it will help in keeping your mood from dipping back down. You take a breath and start to get up.

"Thank you…um.. What day would you want to meet?" You ask, trying to push past the awkwardness and into another direction. You hear him take a drink and decide you do want some water. You start to look around your living space, trying to locate your water bottle.

You spy it across the room in all its rainbow sticker glory and make your way across the room as Matt starts to speak, "I wish I could say tomorrow, but we have to meet with the D.A. tomorrow and I can't miss it. I hate that I can't miss it. But Saturday? Can we meet Saturday?"

You'd have a day to prepare. You would definitely need a day to prepare. "Saturday is perfect. Is 11:30 okay? That's when we try to have lunch."

"That is perfect," Matt replies, mirroring your own. "Saturday at 11:30."

A giddy little shock goes through you - it's not just an idea anymore. Minnie will be meeting her father and he wants to be in her life. He's eager to be in her life.

You never thought that would be the case.

"Saturday at 11:30," you repeat, just to confirm and because you can. It feels good to say.

"I feel like I should dress to impress," he says with a chuckle and you wonder if he is feeling giddy as well.

"I don't think she will care, unless you have a shirt with a cartoon character she likes on it."

There's a few seconds of silence, then Matt's soft curious voice is back, "What characters does she like?"

The question makes you laugh a little because your little girl changes her preferences at the flip of a hat, like any other kid.

"Right now? Scooby Doo and Oscar the Grouch."

"I don't think I have anything with those characters," he says with an amused huff, "but I'll see what I have."

You bite your lip, then let yourself be a bit teasing, "Do you have a lot of graphic tees?"

There's a long moment of quiet before Matt laughs. It's a deep rumble and you find yourself grinning as you grab your water bottle.

"I actually don't know. I don't wear a lot of t-shirts. I think a few have designs on them - at least a few Columbia ones. I wouldn't put it past Foggy to give me something with a cartoon on it, though," he muses.

"I'm sure she will not judge you on your fashion choices," you point out, "She's three and doesn't understand what fashion is. If she did, I would be in trouble."

"Do you have a lot of graphic tees?" Matt asks, throwing the question back at you. It is your turn to laugh.

"I'm the proud owner of many graphic tees. It's practically the only thing in my wardrobe, top wise. The benefits of working from home."

"Unfortunately, court has a dress code. Or so I'm told. I don't think I've ever read it."

"Jury duty has a dress code," you point out, "It was mostly show up clean and not in athletic wear. I didn't get a good look at the lawyers, but I'm pretty sure I remember suits."

"Would you trust a lawyer in a graphic tee?" He asks and you have to pause to think it over.

"Going into their office? I don't think so, unless it was like casual Fridays. But if I met a lawyer in the street on their off day and they had on a graphic tee? I suppose so. Depending on what they are telling me."

"Do you often get your legal advice from random lawyers on the street?" You can practically hear his eyebrows raising up and your cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling.

"Of course not. I get it from Google. I can't afford a lawyer."

That earns you another bark of laughter. "I don't think that will be an issue any longer."

That sets off a little anxiety in your stomach. You don't want to think about needing a lawyer, whether it be Matt as your lawyer or a lawyer against Matt.

He doesn't seem to notice your dip in mood, not that it is particularly obvious, and moves to the next topic.

"Speaking of, I haven't gotten the chance to look at the packet you gave me. It's there anything I need to get done before Saturday?"

You turn your mind away from the thoughts of lawyers and legal battles to something much more manageable: medical history.

"No, no, there's nothing that urgent. It's mostly just medical information - she's got some sensitivities and I want to make sure I'm prepared for anything in the future. The rest is just information for you."

Matt doesn't respond right away and you chance taking a swig of your water.

"Sensitivities…?" There is a thick undercurrent of concern in his voice and you feel a little guilty for making him worry.

"Fabrics and dyes and scents, that kind of thing? I haven't gotten her tested, but certain things just make her itch. Some foods, too. I try to stick to organic stuff and it seems to help a little. It isn't anything major, just a few changes when she lets me know there's something bothering her." You set your water bottle down as you talk, starting to walk around your small living room. "I read it's becoming more common in kids, because all the chemicals and stuff used in everything now. Some of the other moms at daycare have given me tips - laundry soap was the best one."

You are reminded you actually need to do some laundry and as you walk, you grab the various throw blankets littering your apartment.

"I see," Matt says slowly, still sounding concerned. "I actually prefer organic myself, I have some sensitivities as well."

"Any allergies?" You ask. You didn't have any yourself so it has always left you guessing what your little girl might react to.

"No, nothing that I know of. I'm not completely sure about family history, but it is something I can look into."

"I would appreciate it. I'd rather be overly cautious than not have anything," you say casually like you aren't completely obsessive about keeping your daughter healthy.

As you make your way to the bathroom to grab dirty towels, phone between your shoulder and ear, he hums into your ear. "I think that is a good way to do things. I'll try to get the information back to you as soon as possible."

You don't want to chide him, but you can't help but frown a little, "Matt, you don't need to rush. I…was worried you wouldn't be…interested. That is why I put the packet together. I thought you'd want to deal with that instead of going to a doctor's office?"

"I'll go with you to the doctor's," he says instantly, "And I'll fill out the paperwork. It's something I want to do."

You can't argue with that because you would be the same way. Still, you push, "I don't need it by Saturday. Please take your time?"

"Ok," he concedes but it feels like he is only doing so to appease you. But you will take it.

You dump your laundry into the basket stored in the hallway with a little grunt. Almost immediately Matt is saying your name and asking if you are okay.

"Yup, yup, just trying to get some cleaning done while I can. Sorry for doing that in your ear."

"Do you need to go?"��

Your heart pangs with guilt at the question. You can feel the disappointment through the phone and you're quickly reassuring him, "No, I'm just picking up a few things, tidying up, you know. I will try to not -"

You are cut off as the door to the bedroom pushes open and Minnie shuffles out. Her headband is pulled down around her neck and she's rubbing at her eyes with one hand, the other limply holding Pig. You only just put her down so you are instantly concerned.

"Mouse? Is everything okay?"

Matt says your name again, "what's going on?"

You ignore him in favor of going to your daughter. She holds up her arms and you scoop her up, cradling her to your chest.

"There's a monster outside," Minnie mumbles, burying her face in your neck.

"There's a monster outside?" You confirm with her, still speaking into your phone.

"A monster?" Matt repeats, clearly confused, as your little one nods against you.

"Okay, let's go check," you tell her, before finally answering the questions coming through the speaker, "Something woke Minnie up. I'm sorry, I do think I need to go now."

"Is everything okay?" Matt sounds worried and something stirs in your chest at his concern.

"It will be, we just need to go tell a monster to go home," you say, gently bouncing Minnie in your arms to soothe her, "Isn't that right, baby? We gotta tell him to go home."

She nods against you again, parroting in a sleepy little voice, "Go home."

You hear some rustling on the other end of the phone, the clicking of a door opening and the rush of wind. Matt must have stepped outside.

"Are you sure?"

His distress is sweet, in a way. You remember being terrified of every little upset when Minnie was a baby, but now you have gotten your groove.

"Yeah, we will be okay. It's just gonna take a bit to get her back to sleep," you say, carrying her into the bedroom. "I'll…um..we'll see you on Saturday? At 11:30?"

"Saturday at 11:30," Matt confirms. "I…" he trails off, then clears his throat. "Have a good rest of your night."

"Good night, Matt."

Minnie mimics you again, mumbling, "Good night, Matt" just as you hang up. You wonder if he heard it, or if it was cut off.

You hope he did.

You drop your phone off on the bedside table and bring Minnie over to the window. You are a few stories up and your bedroom overlooks an alleyway, as most do in the city. You hold your toddler with one arm and carefully unlock the window to open it about halfway. On the windowsill, there is a yellow mini spray bottle, covered in stickers like everything you own - you pick it up and offer it to Minnie.

She takes it, turning her little body to face the window. She aims it at the window screen and squeezes the trigger, sending out a little stream of Monster Repellent.

"Go home, Monster," you say together. She gives another squirt before looking up at you.

"Is it gone?"

"Give him a few minutes and he'll be gone," you promise, taking the spray bottle and putting it back in its spot, "He's gotta pack up his Monster Suitcase before he goes home, but he won't bother you."

She flops her head back down on your shoulder as you turn to bring her back to bed.

"Do you want me to stay until you're asleep?" She makes an affirmative little noise

You start the process of tucking her back into bed with Pig, kissing her forehead before helping to pull up her noise canceling headband.

"Good night, Mouse."

"Good night. I love you, Mommy."

"I love you, too, baby. Sweet dreams."

#soulie writes #fanfiction #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil

1K notes · View notes

drxmxss · 9 months

Text

Hole in One | Taeyong x Fem! Reader

a/n: 🤭 my first little one shot yay!! i hope y’all like it hehe.

notes: taeyong is bored and rich, reader is a cart girl at a country club, fluffy and smutty, overuse of the word hole lol

warnings: smut..thats abt it !

word count: 2.6k

Enjoy!! Tysm 🩷

———

“You really need to stop staring at her. It’s weird.”

Johnny’s voice breaks Taeyong out of his trance.

“I’m not staring.” He grumbles. “I’m trying to think of what I want.”

“Is he staring at the beverage cart girl again?” Mark asks, standing up straight again, holding his golf club like a baseball bat over his shoulder.

Taeyong doesn’t know why he goes with the two to play the absolute most boring game he’s ever heard of. Golf was terrible. They had to wake up at ass o’clock and dress like they were going to church to get drunk on hot beer. All the while trying to hit the tiniest balls into holes a mile away and stand in the sun for 6 hours. He had no idea why he agreed to go with Johnny and Mark to a country club in the first place. It just wasn’t his style.

Then along came the little golf cart with drinks and snacks driven by you, the beautiful beverage cart girl. Two months and a ridiculous amount of club fees and a set of clubs he didn’t even know how to use later, here he still was.

“If you wanna talk to her so bad stop making me go buy shit from her dude.” Mark says as they get into the cart to go to the next hole. Taeyong sighs, pulling at the itchy white collared shirt he bought specifically to come here.

“It’s not that simple she’s probably just gonna think I’m like these old dudes who play here to creep on her.” Taeyong says. Mark and Johnny share a look. “For starters” Johnny begins. “You don’t look like you have one foot in the grave. She’s probably happy to see us here since we are most likely the youngest members of this stuffy club.” Taeyong shrugs. “Okay what’s your next point?”.

“Second of all, whenever she sees Mark walking up to the cart she immediately scans the field for you and whenever you aren’t paying attention she’s staring just as hard as you do.” Johnny smirks as Taeyong feels his face get hot. You stare too?!?! God that’s hot. Or weird? Embarrassing? Taeyong doesn’t know.

As the boys park the cart near the next hole, Taeyong hears the sound of another cart pulling up behind them. Before he turns around he hears Mark shout “Hey Y/N!”

Taeyong feels his blood run cold.

“Hi Markie! Hi Johnny!” You shout back, waving excitedly from the front seat of your cart. Taeyong wants to die from how pretty your voice is. “I came up here to see if you guys needed to get anything? It’s hot today!”

Taeyong can’t help but stare, still sitting in the golf cart. You just look so cute in your uniform. Perfectly white cap with a tank top and tennis skirt to match. God he feels nauseous.

“Yeah Taeyong wanted something I think.” Johnny says, throwing an evil smile at Taeyong who is plotting on how he can blow up his head with the power of his mind. “Y-yeah right.” He says quickly as he gets out of the cart and walks over towards you.

“Oh so you’re Taeyong! I see you with the boys all the time but I’ve never got to talk to you.” You smile as he stands in front of your cart. “I’m Y/N.”

Taeyong feels sweatier. You can’t be real.

“What did you want hon?” You ask him sweetly, and he feels like he’s melting into a puddle. “I’ve got some chips and sandwiches and I have some chocolate in the ice chest in case you want something sweet? Theres plenty of beer and water too!”

Taeyong stares blankly, too nervous to even breathe and then says shortly “Beer. Please.”

Yep, he’s already fucked up. With any luck his mind magic worked and Johnny will burst into flames at any moment now.

You smile and nod as you turn around to grab the beer from an ice chest. Taeyong tries to be a gentleman but can’t resist sparing a glance at your ass in the pristine white skirt. Nice.

“That’s gonna be $6.” You smile, handing him the drink. Taeyong realizes he didn’t even tell you what brand he wanted at that moment and looks to see you already knew his favorite. He finally manages to smile as he hands you the cash, only to walk away awkwardly to sit in the cart again.

“Okay you boys be careful! I’m gonna circle back around later to make sure you guys have plenty of water!” You wave to Mark and Johnny and beam at Taeyong again. Taeyong’s chest hurts. You are just too sweet.

Taeyong waits to hear the turn of your cart engine, but it never arrives. He turns to see you groan.

“Damn it’s dead.” He hears you grumble.

“Everything okay?” Mark asks you, and you sigh. “No my stupid cart died. I knew it was on it’s last leg but..” You trailed off. “God now I have to lug all this crap back to the clubhouse.”

“We can help you take your stuff back!” Johnny suggests. Taeyong takes back every bad thought he had against him.

“Oh are you sure? It’s kinda far and I don’t wanna interrupt your game!” You reply. Johnny shakes his head “No it’s alright, it’s too hot today anyway we we’re thinking about leaving early anyway.”

In that moment Taeyong knew there was a God and his name was Johnny Suh.

—

Once everyone had all arrived at the clubhouse, Taeyong helped you bring the ice chests inside.

“Are you usually this quiet?” You ask suddenly “I don’t mean to ask in a rude way but after seeing how loud Johnny and Mark are it’s surprising to see how reserved you are.”

Taeyong feels his face get hot again. “Oh um….Not really. Just when I’m tired. It was pretty hot out there.” He chuckles, trying to seem light.

“Ah that makes sense.” You reply. You both leave the ice chests in the main office of the club house just as Taeyong’s phone begins to ring. You signal to him that you’ll be right back as he picks up the call.

“Hello?”

“Take Y/N home.” Johnny whispers. “This is your chance man. You take her home or to your place or whatever in your car me and Mark will just catch a cab.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?” Taeyong whisper yells “She’ll definitely think I’m a creep!”

“She’s always complaining about using a cab to go home, if she brings it up just offer! Worst thing she’s gonna say is no!”

Taeyong sighs as the call ends. Time to be a man he thinks. Johnny is right the worst thing you can say is no.

He turns around to ask you if you needed a ride and finds you standing there in a regular shirt and shorts. Somehow it makes all the more attractive to him.

“Oh um. Johnny had mentioned you complain about taking the cab alot so..” Taeyong begins. Come on be a man! A man!! He thinks. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to go get dinner or something and then I can take you home if you want?”

You stare at him briefly. You think to yourself it might be weird to accept and offer from a stranger, but you also know he’s super handsome and you’d be dumb not to.

“I’d love to!”

—

Things continued to go well for both you and Taeyong. You had suggested he pick something up to go after you discovered he lived in such a nice apartment and you wanted to see if he really got away with drawing on the wall. Hearing this made Taeyong almost drive off a bridge, but he obliged.

As Taeyong drove up to his apartment complex, the only thing running through his mind was you. Your laugh your smile your voice. You were so perfect in his eyes.

And now you were going to be in his apartment. He was going to have to think of some way to repay Johnny and Mark one day.

“Wow! This place is great.” You said as you both walked inside. Taeyong smiled at your enthusiasm, setting the food down on the kitchen counter.

“Where’s you bedroom?” You asked, turning to face him. “I wanna see your drawings.”

Taeyong nodded and led you down the hall of his apartment and unlocked his bedroom door to let you in. Immediately you were greeted with neon lights and drawings that littered the wallspace.

“Wow…I really thought you were joking!” You giggled. Sitting on his bed, you admired more of the drawings on the wall.

Taeyong was suddenly aware he was still wearing his stuffy golf clothes. He started to change before he caught you staring at him shirtless. Cracking a smile at you he said “Can I help you?”

You quickly blushed and looked back toward the wall, embarrassed. “Oh I’m sorry for staring..”

Taeyong felt a wave of confidence overtake him as he walked to kneel in front of you, trying to make direct eye contact. “Honestly…it’s okay. I stare too.”

You faced him now, confused. “What do you mean?” Taeyong smiled softly at your expression. “I mean the only reason I even go to that stupid country club is to stare at you in your pretty little uniform all day.”

You stare into his big dark eyes waiting for some sort of change, but it doesn’t come. He’s serious now. You feel your face get even hotter.

Fuck it Taeyong thinks, and leans forward to kiss you softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you forward. You gasp at first, and then melt into him. He deepens the kiss and you moan softly, bringing your hands up to his dark hair.

Before he gets carried away, Taeyong pulls back. “I-is this okay?” He whispers softly, kissing down your neck to make you shiver in his grasp.

“Yes yes.” You whisper back. “I know it’s quick but I know I’ve wanted you ever since you started coming to the club.”

Taeyong feels lightheaded, and laughs as he pushes you down on his bed. “That’s good to hear.” He says, laying on top of you to continue kissing you harder.

Taeyong pulls away again to lift up your shirt and bra, revealing your bare chest. You feel yourself grow shy, but before you even have a second to process your thoughts you feel his mouth on your nipple.

“Fuck” You moan. Taeyong pulls away again and kisses the nape of your neck. “Everyday.” He whispers. “Every single day I was at that stuffy old club all I could think about was your cute little face and how badly I wanted to just flip up your tennis skirt and play with your pussy.” His words make your face feel impossibly hotter and you feel your panties start to stick to your gushing core.

“Taeyong…” You moan again, this time moving your hand down his warm chest and stomach to feel his hard bulge. “Please fuck me.”

“I will baby don’t worry.” Taeyong replies. “I’m just so happy you feel the same way.” He finally stops his ministrations on your neck to sit up and move your hair out of your face to get a better look at you.

“So pretty..” He muses, making you blush even more. Finally, he pulls down your shorts and admires the wet spot on your panties.

“Aw honey I barely even touched you..You’re so cute.” Taeyong says slowly rubbing your clit through your panties making you moan louder. “Hurry up please.” You whine to him.

“I know honey.” He whispers, pulling your panties off making you shiver as the air makes contact with your wetness. Taeyong slowly pushes a finger into your hole, making you whine at how easily he slips in. “Fucking hell.” He curses, amazed at how turned on you are. (And how turned on it makes him.)

“Taeyongie please give me more.” You moan out. Taeyong pushes in another finger quickly scissoring you open after hearing his new nickname. “You are so impossibly cute baby.” He whispers again.

Finally after deeming you ready he pulls off his shorts and underwear in one go. Your eyes widen at the size of his hard cock.

“Baby do you wanna turn around for me? Just for a minute?” Taeyong asks you softly. “I wanna see your pretty ass bounce on my cock first.” His words make you hotter, and without even thinking you’re laying on your stomach with your head in one of his pillows.

Taeyong slowly caresses your back and the moves his hands to grip your ass softly. “So fucking pretty.” He mumbles, lining up his cock with your hole finally.

You both moan when he sinks into you perfectly. Not even sparing a second he starts thrusting slowly, making you moan louder and louder.

“Fuck your so fucking tight around me honey. It’s crazy.” Taeyong babbles, obsessed with the way your ass bounces against him. You can only muster up a half groan in response to him. “Aww has my pretty girl gotten herself cock drunk already?” Taeyong teases you, going faster and harder, making you scream out. “That’s it baby let it out.” He says.

After a few minutes, you feel yourself getting closer to your peak. Suddenly Taeyong pulls out of you, almost making you sob in response.

“I have to see your pretty face when you come baby flip over for me.” Taeyong says, rubbing the small of your back before you quickly move onto your back. He leans down again to kiss at your neck and face before grabbing your cheek kiss you roughly, making you whimper.

Taeyong leans back to line himself up again and slowly pushes in, watching your expression change and once he’s bottomed out he starts of hard and fast, moaning in unison with you. For a moment you think about the shy person he was just a few hours ago, and this change makes you all the more wetter.

You feel yourself reaching your peak quickly, barely making out the words. “Taeyongie…m’gonna come.”

Taeyong leans forward to rest his fore against yours to ask “Where do you want me to cum honey?” The question pushes you further to the edge as you say “Inside.”

This makes Taeyong nearly burst at the thought of it. Soon enough, you feel him getting sloppy as he whispers in your ear “Cum with me baby I know you can my pretty girl.”

Moaning loudly you feel yourself squirt around his thick cock right as he finally explodes inside you, riding out both your orgasms before quickly flopping in the bed next you. He rolls over again to lay his head on your chest as you fight to control your breathing.

“God damn.” You finally say. Taeyong just laughs as he lays on your chest, snaking his arms around your torso to pull you even closer to him.

“Hey I just realized” He says “Our food is probably super cold by now.” You both look at each other for a moment before bursting into another fit of laughter.

As he watches you get up slowly to put the takeout in the microwave and begin a movie marathon Taeyong thinks maybe golf isn’t so bad after all.

#drxmxss writes #nct 127 #nct smut #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct taeyong #taeyong x reader #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #taeyong smut #nct imagines #nct #nct x reader #nct scenarios

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bornagainmurdock · 1 month

Text

the prettiest girl at the party

author's note: y'all know that one photo of the person straddling the other person while doing each others makeup, yah that vibe :))

contents: you do matt's makeup for fun, matt murdock x reader, gender neutral reader, suggestive but ultimately fluffy

work count: 1.4k

Matt had never worn makeup. Except for that one time he played a shepard in the nativity scene at the church as a kid. Or that one time in college he fell asleep petting a cat at a party and woke up with glittery lipstick and mascara on a fancy couch. Or maybe that one time Karen did his eyebrows because she was bored at work. But that was it! Until today that is.

You, being a makeup lover, had a relatively large (but econimically and environmentally conscious) amount of makeup. Sometime you would catch Matt running his fingers along your collection, or asking you about your makeup that day, or asking to have you swatch it on his skin so he could feel it.

Today you had had enough of Matt daydreaming about makeup. You were going to do his makeup, and damnit, he was going to like it.

When Matt got home you cornered him, helping him set down his briefcase and glasses, taking his blazer to hang it up in the closet, too. He knew you were up to something nefarious, but was unsure of just how nefarious you were being.

He soon realized, but that was only after you dragged him into the bathroom, made him sit on the toilet, and started shuffling around making various loud noises.

"Okay, I haven't asked any questions yet so I get at least one. I'm not going to ask what you're doing, but I will ask what is making all that noise."

"My makeup bin." You grinned.

"Are you about to do my makeup?"

"And we have a winner! Matt Murdock is getting a makeover!"

He sighed, but accepted defeat. He forcibly frowned, but you could tell he was excited. His posture became straighter, sitting up higher and taller. His eyes were bright and dancing around the room. And his hands nervously tapped in his lap.

"So what's first?" He had listened to you do your makeup hundreds of times, but truly had no idea what you started with.

"Well, I start with my brows, but today you're getting full glam. So it's primer time."

"What the fuck is primer?"

"Exactly what it sounds like you goof! We're priming your face for foundation." You dug through the basket and found your favorite one for when Matt dragged you to fancy dinners.

You started slowly, warning him when you were gonna touch his face enough though he could sense it. When you were applying things to his face, Matt held onto your arm, helping you remain steady and balanced.

"So, my foundation is absolutely not your shade, so we're gonna have to improvise with this cream highlight and contour palette. I think I can mix your shade."

Matt was trying to be patient and still as not to bump you, but he was excited. Despite his aversion to most textures, your brushes against his face made him shiver because of how soft they were.

"What's next?"

"Well I'm still working on color matching. You got one weird skintone. Oh no, and then I gotta make you a concealer shade."

"Be nice to me. I didn't know it was weird!" He said smiling, trying very very very hard not to move too much.

"But then after that, brows! Which I am concerned about, but for a different reason. You kinda already have the most perfect brows."

"Finally a compliment. Thank you." He jokingly rolled his eyes.

"Anyways Matty, I think I'm gonna leave them alone and start working on your eyes. What color should I do?"

"Uhhhh, brown."

"I don't know why you thought I was going to give you a natural makeup look. We're going orange and red!" You said while shuffling around in the bin, trying to find an eyeshadow palette to match the colors you saw in your head.

His face contorted in horror. "Are you sure?"

"The longer you question me, the longer this is. Now be quiet."

Matt pretended to zip his lips shut and his face went neutral again in an attempt to help.

And suprisingly, he stayed quiet throughout the entire application of eye shadows. That is until you told him you were starting eyeliner.

"Okay so look up, but keep your eyes closed."

"What does that even mean? How can I look up while having my eyes closed?" He gestured with his hands bumping you a few times in the process.

"Like this." You tilted your head up and closed your eyelids rather dramatically.

"You I can't see you, right?"

"Sometimes I forget. You're eerily good at eye contact for a blind man."

You adjusted Matt into the perfect position and gave him a warning for the brush coming towards his face.

"Don't flinch!" Matt couldn't stand the tickle of it against his face. He winced away and then kept leaning back to get away.

You grabbed his chin, repositioning his face in the exact right spot. Matt's face flushed, bright enough you could see it through the foundation you applied.

"Keep it in your pants, Murdock."

"Maybe don't manhandle me and we won't have a problem." He was sassy with his remark, sticking his tongue out at you at the end.

"Almost done. All that's left is mascara."

"Absolutely not," Matt was serious. What he knew about mascara scared him, "That's not going near my eyes."

"You'll be fine. Come here." You put the brush to his lash and moved as quickly as possible to shorten the time of torture. "All done. You did good."

He smiled at the praise, and visible leaned towards you. You placed a kiss on his forehead and grabbed his chin to tilt it towards you again to kiss his lips this time.

"Lips time! I'm thinking something super extra glossy and dramatic."

"As if the rest of it isn't dramatic enough. You know, I'm starting to feel like your experiment. Or a drag queen."

"Then I'd say I'm doing a good job. Do you feel fabulous?" You returned to the bin to find your favorite gloss and lipliner.

"I feel fabulous." Matt said flatly.

"With more enthusiasm this time." You critiqued.

"I feel FABULOUS." Matt repeated, this time with jazz fingers and an award winning smile.

"Thank you."

He hummed sarcastically in retort.

You lifted the lip liner up to his face. "Okay, now open your lips just a little bit-- good good."

He tried to speak through the application, mumbling into your hand, "What color is it?"

"I don't know, wait to find out."

Matt attempted to be patient and waited until you started to pile the gloss on, feeling it drip a bit down onto his chin.

"Why's it so sticky?"

"Beauty is pain. That's why." You giggled, "Okayyyyy, and DONE!"

"How do I look?"

"So good. Let me take a photo to send to Foggy and Karen."

Matt heard you pull out your phone and snap a photo, laughing as you passed the photo along to your friends in a group chat.

Within a couple seconds Matt's phone rings with a message from Karen:

Going to a birthday party later? The clown makeup looks nice on you Matt.

Clown makeup?

Reality hit Matt in a seocnd, "Did you put me in clown makeup?"

"I'm suprised you didn't notice when I was piling blush on your nose."

"Start running." Matt stood up with the most serious face he could muster.

And you ran, escaping to the kitchen, Matt chasing after you. The whole time you were in a giggle fit, unable to catch your breath.

"How could you?" Matt was laughing at this point, too. You both were on opposite sides of the kitchen island and lunging in opposition direction.

"My handsome clown boyfriend." You made a run for the bedroom.

Matt grabbed your arm trailing behind you and tackled you to the ground.

"Not so funny is it now."

"Still super funny."

#matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #fluff

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 6 months

Note

Hi lovely, how are you? Is it possible i request something with immense amounts of ✨fluff✨(with any character you feel like writing for because I love everyone tbh)? Like, i need it these past two weeks were absolutely terrible and now i can barely breathe because it feels like im being stabbed in my left side every inhale/movement. Anyway I hope you're doing great 🩷🩷🩷🩷

I apologize that it had taken me so long but still hope this makes your day even a little bit better.

The library

“And this is the library”, Helion muttered under his breath. If only his friends would see him now. He was a mess. Had been. Ever since you walked through the door of the sanctuary, seeking a safe place to stay now that Autumn had been filled with unease and rebellious anger. Yes, he had servants that usually showed every guest around. But there was something about you. And he had been so utterly lonely. Stuck between these white walls.

You let out a gasp as you stepped in. The high shelves hugged everyone's wall. Lush greenery fell from the arrangements in the middle. It felt as if you had stepped into a dream. “You said you liked books during our lunch yesterday”, Helion gently guided you deeper into the room, “So, I thought you would like to see it”. You shook your head slightly, “This is.. magical. I don’t think I have words to describe it”.

A sense of pride bloomed deep within Helion’s chest, “I’ve never let anyone into my private library before”. You turned to face him quickly, “This isn’t the library your court is known for?”, the lord simply shook his head as you gapped at him. you had head stories. You knew that the high lord took pride in his collection but you didn’t know he had a part of that tucked somewhere away just for him. “Why would you take me here?”, you asked only afterward realizing how silly and almost rude the question sounded.

Yes, he had been nothing but kind to you. Yes, he had gone out of his way to ensure that you were safe and comfortable. But he was the high lord and you were just an ordinary from a foreign court. “I won’t be able to repay you for…”, you breathed out and something so sad washed over the high lord’s face. “Do you think I’m doing all this to get something out of you?”, he asked quietly. He was known for his reputation. The flirting. The passion he carried into his relationships. But through the weeks with him, you hadn’t caught a single sign that would lead you to believe that he wasn’t genuine with you.

“I apologize if I came across as desperate”, Helion frowned slightly. “Oh, no! Mother above, I would never think that”, you breathed out, a wave of fear washing over you. “It’s just… bad experience from the past. Autumn isn’t the sweetest of places”, you admitted. Helion nodded in agreement, “It just felt like light calling to light when I saw you”, he breathed out.

“Made me realize that I do not have people close to me, people I like spending time with”, your eyes softened at his words as you reached out for his hand. “I loved getting to know you, Helion. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness”, you smiled up at him. He mirrored your face before turning to the little table, “I picked these for you”, he pulled out a couple of well-loved copies, “Thought you might want to read them and we could talk about them. But only if you want of course”, he said and you could swear his cheeks pinked ever so slightly.

You bit your lip, “Are these by any chance your favorite?”, you asked brushing your fingers over the cracked spines. “Yeah, I’m almost certain that one of them is missing a page or two”, you both churched slightly at his confirmation.

“Well, then I would be delighted to read them”, your eyes met his once more, and the happiness that radiated from Helion was impossible to miss. But he quickly arranged his emotions, opting for a nod. “Maybe after I am back from my work trip we could meet here”, he muttered. You stepped closer, standing on your tippy toes as you pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek, “Yeah, I’ll be looking forward to it”, you breathed, feeling your cheeks heating.

#helion x reader #helion imagine #helion x you #helion x oc #helion acotar imagine #helion acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you

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the-ace-with-spades · 1 month

Text

There's one fic idea from another fandom that I never wrote and would like to adapt to the TGM fandom, which is tattoo artist/florist but more like they're both tattoo artists but one of them doesn't know that (have I mentioned this before? i feel like I did)

tw: mentions of addiction and ODing

I'm thinking this happens in San Fran/Portland/Settle/Washington DC

Bradley had his papers pulled and accidentally started working part-time in a tattoo shop (just cleaning) and absolutely fell in love with tattoo art and switched majors from engineering to art history/etc. in his second semester. Not long after he started an apprenticeship at the same tattoo shop, his thesis was about tattoo art history and he became a well-known academic in the field and a popular tattoo artist.

Carole used to love flowers and had a very varied garden at their house and flower illustrations everywhere - Bradley used to draw flowers on every card for her - so flowers became his specialty

He now runs a tattoo shop (The Bloom) with Natasha, who he met at a tattoo competition TV show (because I'm a sucker for reality shows rn...) and flies as a side gig, but he also has part-time gigs at different colleges.

He is tattooed all over, but only on the parts of his body he can cover in some ways - it's really funny when he lectures because he looks like a stereotypical professor, cardigans, collared shirts, khakis and all, but sometimes when it's hot, he rolls up his sleeves and people can see his full-sleeve tattoos.

Now, Jake had a completely different route to the place he is at now. He got mixed with the wrong crowd and got kicked out of the Naval Academy first year, he got mixed with an even worse crowd when his family didn't take him back when he returned and he was an addict for some time. He had one of those born-again christian turn arounds - not in a super fanatic way, just woke up one day in a hospital after a close call with his (religious) crying mom praying with a rosary over him and realized he needed to change something about his life or he's going to destroy everyone around him. He starts going to church with his ma and gets a little involved in the local Christian charity, etc etc.

One of the therapies he attended was art therapy and at first, he thought it was bullshit but then he actually liked it and even designed some of his own tattoo cover-ups at the sessions (he had shitty tattoos he had done when he was high or drunk that reminded him about worse times). The tattoo artist who did his coverups was actually impressed and offered him training, which he took up.

Most of his shittiest tattoos are covered now, but he still has not very thought-through tattoos on his face, some of which are too big to ever do much about them, and some blackout tattoos, so he looks very 'stereotypically'.

Due to his background, cover-ups, black only, and trad/neo-trad tatttos are his specialty. He is also really good at pigmentation and tattoo restoration/longevity.

Now, Jake moves out of Texas with his mom after his dad (who has been completely unsupportive of him since he got kicked out of USNA) passed away, to be closer to his sister and her kids who lived on the other side of the states. He filters around, taking part-time gigs at other studios and gigs he gets from social media.

Eventually, he opens a tattoo shop with Javy, on the other side of the street as The Bloom is. Due to the amount of flowers and the name of the studio, he assumes it's a flower shop.

He and Bradley run into each other in a local coffee shop (run by Reuben and Mickey) and Jake, seeing Bradley's getup, is still under the impression Bradley is a florist.

Bradley spills Jake's coffee and asks him on a date when he pays back for his coffee a few days later

(Bob, working a street away, is the actual local florist)

#don't think ill ever write it though so that's that #hangster #tgm

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jermer10 · 2 months

Note

hi! im unsure if your asks are open or not, but can i request headcanon drabbles for mercs (specifically spy, sniper, medic, soldier, engineer) with an s/o who grew up like deep south? like, sometimes their southern accent slips out when they get angry and they grew up hunting and fishing and they say crazy southern things like 'sweating worse than a whore in church'.

love your work! keep it up <3

TF2 mercs with a southern s/o

gn reader | tysm for the req anon!! <3

includes: soldier, engineer, medic, sniper, spy

drabbles under the cut :P

Soldier: - a match made in heaven - he probably met you out hunting, “whatcha’ lookin’ for darlin’?” “COMMIE SCUM” - you had to explain to him that “commie scum” wasn’t tangible nor legal to kill - “NOT IF NO ONE FINDS THE BODIES!” you cant help but burst out laughing at his naivety, Soldier grinning alongside you - he honestly doesn’t get why you’re laughing, but he doesn’t care, your laugh was so addictive - after that you were seldom seen without one another - you’re into all the same hobbies and you have the same temper, the other mercs call you John Doe (soldier likes to pretend that this annoys him but the idea of sharing a last name with you excites him more)

Engineer: - engie met you whilst going back down south for business purposes, you hit it off immediately! - he absolutely adores every inch of you, and finds your common interests a good relaxant when he needs a break from work (which you often have to force him to do) - the other mercs refer to you both as the parents of the team, as much as it makes you both cringe it unfortunately flusters you both to no end - your accent becomes stronger the deeper in conversation you both are - this leads to some very confused mercs, hilarious antics ensue - this also leads to incredibly unfunny alabama jokes whether you're from Alabama or not (courtesy of scout) - you are an inseparable duo, doing mostly everything together!

Medic: - despite what you might believe, medic adores your boisterous personality! - you don't have many common interests, but he will occasionally join you on a hunting trip (especially if you are willing to hunt humans for him to perform medical malpractice on) - he loves your little sayings, finding them absurd and hilarious - "pretty as zhe peach you say?" he muses, a cocky grin plastered on his face - you're both stubborn, so naturally you butt heads over stupid things - but as soon as that accent comes out full force medic sits his german ass down and listens - all in all a power couple if you entertain his more eccentric qualities

Sniper: - this is an 'enemies to lovers' type of deal except the enemy part is one sided - he finds you very offputting at first, chalking you up to being just another loud annoyance and ignoring your attempts to bond - then you take him hunting and his whole world changes - he's never seen someone so precise with a gun other than himself, seeing you hit that deer right between the eyes was like watching fireworks in slow motion - and all at once he fell for you, coming to the not so shocking realization that he might actually not hate you as much as he thought - he still finds you loud and annoying but now he is highly attracted to you and is not as good at hiding it as he thinks - insane introvert x insane extrovert trope my beloved

Spy: - okay his is ACTUALLY an enemies to lovers and HEAVVYY on the lovers part - you do not like eachother and you both make that very clear. - spy considers himself sophisticated and above the sorts of animalistic hobbies you take interest in, you are a 'for the people' kind of person and find the high class world to be inherently exploitative - so you can see where the conflict is coming from then? well good because it all comes crashing down after you get into a screaming match and the deep southern drawl comes out - suddenly his lips are on yours and your hands are gripping the front of his blazer in any attempt to bring him closer - neither of you are open about this relationship you share - everyone knows.

#tf2 #ask #tf2 fanfiction #team fortress 2 #tf2 imagines #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #jermer10 #fluff #tf2 soldier #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy

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r0-boat · 1 year

Text

If honkai star rail man had audio accounts, pt.2

Read part 1 here

Gn! reader x Gepard, Welt, Luocha, Dan heng

Nsfw mdi

Cw: dubcon, consent noncon,yandere, creampie

( sorry that part two took so long ahhh, this is the final part for now since there is not enough sexy hsr men besides Luka and I guess Svarog for funsies. If you want me to do Genshin Impact men or make an audio headcanon list for women, let me know.)

Gepard

Man, he took pride in being a wholesome internet boyfriend who would only do sweet little audios of himself role playing as your boyfriend or love interest in different scenarios. And then the Reckoning... he posted an audio where him playing as your knight in shining armor takes a hit for you. And oh boy those gasp and growls and whimpers of pain he did while the reader was patching him up- the people wanted more.

He tried to do NSFW audios before but he couldn't do it his face would turn red and it's hard would be so hard he would clutch his chest. Here he was, a grown man practically on the verge of tears out of embarrassment. What would his coworkers think if they found out what he had done? What would Serval think? Nope, Nope, Nope! He couldn't do it!

But then the Stars aligned and he made a separate account when Gepard posted his first audio. A ramble fap, and oh boy his breath shuttering in the mic has he moans and wimpers, you could even hear him begging. Till now he never really noticed how talkative and, loudish He could be Gepard even try stifling his whines when he got gotten close.

Even though it took everything out of him to finally post it, he had to say it felt nice being praised. He only posted initially because he wanted to make his fans happy. He is a people pleaser, after all. And it did kind of feel nice... he doesn't usually get to let go like that, being his job as a Silvermain Guard and all... there's a lot of stuff he didn't realize about himself.

Pet names

Miss/sir/ma'am/mommy

Sweet heart

Dear

Angel

Welt

It is the skeleton in his closet. His ultimate secret that he moans in a microphone for strangers that like his voice a little too much. His listener is absolutely adore him. His sultry voice and his personality drag people to him like a moth to a flame. He doesn't post very often but when he does everyone is crying and sobbing for more. And he doesn't write his own stuff either it's mostly just Scripts he tries to go along with the script says, but he can't help but sprinkle a little bit of his own kinks in there—praise, worship, oral fixation.

Even when he's stroking himself, he even catches himself murmuring about how much he wants to taste you and how good you are for him, how good you make him feel, and how sexy you are. His audios are always gentler, with lots of kisses and touching in that softer tone that makes you melt. From giving you some much-needed stress relief from a hard day at work to a hot heavy make out session after a dinner.

Sometimes he would make his own Scripts and even have some artwork he Illustrated to go with them. His own scripts and audios are very rare but are very well done, dripping with sexual tension and a good plot. He's pretty much allergic to porn without plot.

Call him crazy but he likes that his audio is put a smile on people's faces he wants to think that his posts brighten people's days he likes being relied on as much as he himself likes someone who he trusts with his life.

Pet names

Sweet heart

Honey

Darling

Luocha

Help, because why can I see his audio is being mostly corruption kink? Even his audios tend to lean more on the darker side. Though not by much, the most you can expect is a pastor who can't help but want someone he had been eyeing that comes to his church or a doctor who, while their patient was unconscious, laid his lips upon them and whispered how much they wanted them.

Mostly does dubcon or cnc; they almost did yandere content but decided not to post it. Even in his darker videos, he still keeps that gentlemanly gentle, sweet attitude with an odd obsessive undertone, perhaps even possessive., which many of his listeners fall for.

When close, his listeners can hear him mutter broken sentences about how good he feels and how wrong this is or how much he needs you before begging to fill you up.

He wants it to feel as real as possible so he gets the good mics the ones where you can feel his breath against your ear, and he always loads his audios with sound effects. He has good quality work, and he enjoys doing it too.

Pet names

Dear

Mine

Beloved

Dan Heng

Dan Heng rarely does scripts almost exclusively makes very short audio where you can hear his hand around his wet cock and his moans; he'll go on and on about whatever lewd thought was on his mind. About how much he needs a tight hole around his cock or something inside of him.

Dan Heng has absolute pan panic. One could only dream about having both at the pussy and cock at the same time, and that is a dream he thinks about constantly when recording new audio for his rabid fans to listen to.

He finally got himself a toy discreetly since his hand wasn't enough, and those grunts and frustrated growls eventually turned into shaky breaths and whimpering, the tight silicone walls proving too much as he tried to keep quiet himself. His hips buck up into the toy itself as he continues edging himself. Dan Heng, almost losing control, rolls his head back, whimpering about how much he wants them. His listeners ate that shit up.

Dan Heng makes very standard vanilla content and hardly ever gets too kinky, where he plays the role of a boyfriend. Sadly Dan Heng isn't too good at acting so the boyfriends he normally plays are people with authority or professionalism since his voice naturally sounds like that.

Pet names

Babe

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sunlightandsuffering · 9 days

Note

The crazy Sacrilege fan here ! I LOVE THAT DRABBLE MIKASA IS SUCH AN UNHINGED FREAK I ADORE HER THANK YOU LYS THANK YOU !!! And Eren cares about her , « might even love her, just a little » LMFAO MR COP IS SO BUSTED !! If I may ask, how do you think they would react to a pregnancy scare ? I think crazy ass Mika might even like it, think it’s the Lord’s Will for them to be with child . Eren is head over heels for his little gf so he woudn’t mind giving her a child but he doesn’t want her to regret it later, she needs to go to college and start a career first!

AHAHAHA OMG ILY !!!! 💗💗 ur so funny lol!!! THEY'RE BOTH UNHINGED THO AND THAT'S WHAT WE LOVE THEM FOR, THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING CHAOS !!!!

omg okay, i can totally see this going like both ways, mostly bc I'm so anti religion bc of how much fucking shit it can create. So me, being a little shit, i'd love to go against the grain here and have Mikasa just be pRO CHOICE GIRLY !! Altho I do think she'd be like a little thrilled to have a child with Eren lol. LETS WRITE IT AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!! bro tell me why they're so cute tho i like this drabble lol

Mikasa stares at the pregnancy test blankly, head knocked back against the bathroom cabinet of Eren’s apartment. Two little red lines to seal her fate, she should be thrilled.

She isn’t.

Contrary to her mother and every other girl in her church, Mikasa feels nothing but dread, cold, inescapable dread and suffocation. Because yes, a baby is cute, a baby is sweet, a baby would be the perfect embodiment of her and Eren’s love. They’d be the picture perfect happy family, the one people see on instagram, and she could be a stay at home mom and do all that ridiculous mom-fluencer stuff she sees.

The entire idea makes Mikasa want to throw up, and she’s not so sure it’s the pregnancy, because she isn’t that far along at all yet.

She slumps, dropping the test to the floor beside her and blinking back stubborn tears, she wonders if this is God’s plan. Because surely, it must be? She wouldn’t be pregnant if it wasn’t His will. Hell, she’s already gone against the church by using birth control, condoms and the pill.

So there’s really no other way she could have possibly gotten pregnant, right? Nothing else other than pure divine intervention would have allowed this.

Mikasa sniffles meekly, a tear sleeping down her cheek despite her attempts not to cry and she wipes it away with her sleeve. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she crumples in on herself because what the fuck is she going to do? She’s not married, not yet at least, not in school yet –will probably have to drop out now actually– and her parents will most certainly withdraw what little support they were willing to provide her. She can hear it now, they’re going to call her sweet little baby a bastard, the church will gossip, her youth group will turn on her, and the pastor will look at her with eyes full of disgust at every turn. The tears flow faster now, slipping down her cheeks freely, and before she realizes it, she’s sobbing alone in Eren’s apartment bathroom, utterly alone.

And there’s that too, isn’t there, how Eren will react. She doesn’t know, doesn’t want to lose him, but what if it’s too soon? Eren isn’t that old, only 24 and still working his way up in the force, he probably doesn’t want a baby yet either.

He’s certainly never talked about it, and it has Mikasa tearing up all over again, because she’s going to lose him, and her parents again all at once. And she can’t lose him, she just can’t, she loves him. What had started as pure angsty rebellion had turned into love so quickly she doesn’t even know when it started. But he’s so supportive, hot, and so fucking good for her if she thinks about it, had told her just to fucking move in when her parents had gotten fussy over their break-up. He’d shrugged like it was no big deal, “Don’t worry about rent, Mika, just as long as you sleep in my bed.” Then, he’d left for work with a wink, and Mikasa for the first time in her life had real fucking independence, the very thing she’d been yearning for, begging for when he’d fucked her on that alter.

And now here she is, about to lose it all again, her shackles renewed by the responsibility of a child and all the pressures that come with being a mom before she’s financially ready or responsible in the slightest.

There is a click outside and Mikasa inhales sharply, glancing at her watch, because how long has she been in this bathroom moping? It’s 9:00 am on the dot, Eren is home, having just gotten off an overnight shift, and she can already hear him stomping around, seeking her out. “Mikasa,” He calls, and she slaps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet, for what she doesn’t know, he’ll find her eventually. “Baby where are you, I can see your shoes by the door, come out.” She doesn’t, fear paralyzes her, this agony of what to do, to tell him, not to tell him, to just run away and give it up for adoption, show up again in nine months and hope he doesn’t hate her. But Eren is a cop, surely he’d find her no matter where she went? And he does, just like he’d find her if she ran away, sweeping the apartment methodically before coming to the bathroom door, just off his bedroom.

He knocks, “Miki, what are you doing?” She doesn’t answer, just grabs the pregnancy test, holds it closer as the two positive red lines blur together, tears flowing freely again. It takes Eren one attempt, one fucking shot to jimmy the lock open, and he’s leaning against the door frame like an avenging angel as he looks her over. He’s terrifying, clad in his police uniform, black cargo pants with so many pockets and that tight long sleeve shirt that goes under his body armour.

He quirks a brow up at her as he notices her tears, eyes scanning her over, and she can pinpoint the exact moment he notices the pregnancy test, his teeth coming down to bite into his lip, his only nervous tic. “So,” He asks casually, “Pregnant?” She nods meekly, a sob working its way up her throat, all she can think to do is apologize, because obviously it’s her fault, “I’m so sorry Eren.”

She should have never slept with him, never disobeyed God like this, it’s her punishment, and she just spirals, ugly crying in her boyfriend’s bathroom at 8 am on a wednesday. “Oh Miki no, it takes two, okay,” Eren half laughs as he kneels down next to her, tucking a strand of hair out of her eyes. He wipes the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, cupping her face with more love and affection than she’s ever known in her life, “It was definitely more me if I recall correctly, in the back of my squad car, in the kitchen,” He smirks, looking down at her, “Yesterday morning in the shower.” Mikasa smacks him for that, choking out a laugh, “Stop it, I’m sad right now.” Eren chuckles, sitting down next to her and grabbing her hand with the pregnancy test to look at it himself. “You don’t have to be sad Miki, it doesn’t have to be a big thing you know.”

She leans into him, her head on his shoulder as she thinks about it, “Eren I’m gonna get huge and fat, it’s definitely gonna be a thing and people are definitely going to notice.” He bumps her with his shoulder lightly, “Nah you’d be cute pregnant, and fuck,” He groans as if he’s thinking about it, “Your tits would definitely get even better.” Mikasa gasps, smacking his arm again, and before she can stop him he’s going in for a squeeze that has her yelping because yeah, she’s already a little more sensitive. He smirks, more smug than he has any right to be in this situation, ten minutes ago she was crying her eyes out.

“So does this mean you want it, then, that you’ll support me?” Mikasa asks hopefully and Eren squeezes her thigh, looking down at her with more intensity than she knew him capable of, “Mikasa of course I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do, this would be my kid too.” He pauses and Mikasa waits, looking up at him earnestly, ready to accept whatever else he has to say, because he’s Eren and he so obviously loves her. “I know it’s a little taboo in the church community, but have you thought about getting an abortion?” Mikasa cracks, heaving out a great sob, and before she knows it she’s in Eren’s lap with him shushing her as she whispers all her fears into his neck, “You don’t want it, you’re lying you just- you just want to appease me and –” “Mikasa,” Eren kisses his way up her neck, voice right at her ear, “I’m not lying, but look at me.” He cups her chin roughly, tilting her head up so she’s forced to look into those pretty green eyes, “Baby you’re in school, you haven’t even started yet, and I’ve heard you, fuck baby I’ve heard you talk about school so many times and how much you want to be a nurse.” He leans down, so their foreheads touch, and he leans into her, “And as much as I’d love to see you pregnant, how fucking pretty you’d be, cute as hell waddling around my house knocked up with my fucking kid, it would also suck a lot because I know Mikasa that you’d be miserable, would be delaying your dreams for several years at the very fucking least and I could never ask you to do that.” Mikasa inhales shakily, relaxing into him now, the hand on her thigh, the other at the nape of her neck, how warm and solid he is against her, Eren.

She tilts her head up for a kiss, something soft, chaste, comfort.

He kisses her softly, all gentle affection, his hand rubbing over her thigh to keep her calm and when she pulls back she’s calmer, more stable in his arms.

“Is it allowed?” She whispers, almost nervously, afraid she’ll be shot down by the universe at the mere suggestion. Eren laughs, his hand drifting up to her hip to tug her closer in his lap, “Of course it’s allowed Mikasa, no one has to know we have free health care you know, we’ll just you know, schedule you an appointment, I don’t think it’s that hard.” “Really?” she mumbles, “Just like that?” “I think so, I mean obviously I haven’t had one, but I don’t think it’ll be that difficult, we can call in a minute.”

“Okay,” she mumbles and Eren kisses her again, nipping her cheek as he demands her attention, “But I want to know you’re doing it for you, not because of me or anything else, this has to be your decision Mikasa and I’m just along for the ride.” She sighs, “I think you’re right, I just didn’t want to be the one to say it, but before you got here all I could think about was how much it was going to fuck up my life.” Eren gasps, and she looks up, suddenly afraid, does he think she’s disgusting, a worthless human being because of it? His eyes are alight with amusement, “You swore, what a naughty little church girl you are.”

She smacks him and violently, which has him cackling, and he uses his leverage to go in for another kiss, which she accepts gratefully. “As long as it’s your decision Mikasa, I don’t care, hell I kind of agree, I’m not sure if I’d be a great dad right now, I’m too selfish. I wanna keep you to myself for as long as I can.” Mikasa laughs, “Then maybe we’d better start using better protection.” “Yeah, we’re also scheduling you for an IUD appointment, because fuck are you bad at taking those pills.” She winces, “I took it this morning.” Eren looks at her in disbelief, “Miki you’re already pregnant.” “Well, I tried not to be,” She tells him poutily and Eren pinches her waist, “You did a shit job.” “We just agreed it was your fault!”

Eren smiles deviously, “Yeah it is, and it’s about to be my fault again.”

He yanks her down against him, a devilish gleam in his eyes, and she can feel his very obvious erection right against the soft of her cunt, separated only by the thin layer of her pyjama pants.

“Have you been hard the entire time?” “I’m not a monster, just since you swore, it just does things to me, it’s not my fault, really it’s yours.” “Oh my God,” Mikasa groans, and she can feel Eren below her, grinding her down against his cock, that guilty look on his face, “Holy fuck does it turn you on when I’m like bad?” “Is that blasphemous of me?”

“God yes,” She tells him and then she’s kissing him, because no one else but Eren Yeager has ever made being bad feel so good.

#lys's drabbles #angst??#sort of ??

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ashedink · 2 months

Text

A Vulture In Therapy

It’s Never Been About Death (But It Is All I Think About)

The hospital was like a labyrinth. I remember having an anxiety attack the first time I went to inpatient therapy here, and the nurses who were talking to me were absolutely useless. They sent me to the wrong floor and were really pushy and suffocating even as I was starting to twitch and cry and hyperventilate.

Now I wore the same sticker tag every day and knew the route. Why did it require two different elevators to get to this floor? I have no clue. I didn’t build it.

My therapist and psychiatrist both wanted me to attend inpatient therapy, saying that it might help me develop some healthier coping strategies, and determine if further treatment would be worth pursuing. I think they were worried about how my suggestion for treatment overlapped with my obsession with death. People get concerned when I talk about how often I think about death. I have to reassure people over and over again that I don’t want to die. It’s a macabre and spiritual fascination. The historical, chemical, spiritual, emotional, and biological process fascinate me. Everything dies. It's one thing all of us animals of planet earth truly have in common.

And death feeds life. That has been the case almost since life has been.

Today was my next to last day. It helped to see other people who were struggling like me, especially when we helped each other with wisdom for our own lives. I made some friends I would never see again. I shared some good moments and some uncomfortable ones. Today was going to show them this other side of me, though.

Today we also ended up, intentionally or otherwise, with death as the main topic of discussion.

When you live in the south it’s hard to find anything that is secular. Even things explicitly said to be secular make sure that there is all the space for religious talk that people could possibly want. I mean I suppose it’s fair, we were talking about death and many people process death through religion.

Still, people kept trying to include me specifically in their religious talk, so when it was my time to speak…

Well…

“I’m not a religious person.”

Several people’s faces got awkward as they realized they had been trying to rope what they assumed was the only atheist in the zipcode into their church talk.

“I am spiritual though. I think about death a lot. I never learned how to mourn correctly. My family tried to hide death from me. I was never allowed to feel or express negative emotions, so even when someone died, I didn’t know how to cry anymore. I would just go numb. Besides, other people around me needed me, and I have a chronic need to be there for other people when they need me. I am a person who can reschedule grief. A month or two months or three would pass and then suddenly that grief would come knocking. My grandmother passed last year. It took me two months of time and three solid days alone to break down and cry.”

I tastefully edited out that the bourbon helped too, because two of the people there were recovering alcoholics.

“To me, the vulture is a sacred animal.”

I held up the painting I’d worked on during art therapy. It was of a swarm of black birds ascending into the sky. I know it looked grim and ominous to other people, but as I talked I could see them begin to understand.

“It doesn’t waste. I love scavengers in general. Creatures that take up the unwanted or lost. I see vultures and I see the grim cleaners of the world. Many people don’t see the value of the scavenger, but we’re far better off with them in it than without. Did you know that in areas with low vulture populations, rabies is more common? This is because without flocks of vultures to break down carcasses quickly, they are instead visited by feral dogs, coyotes, foxes, racoons, and many other mostly mammalian opportunist. This makes carcasses a disease vector. Parasites and disease can spread from conflicts over a carcass,” I realized I was beginning to overshare one of my hyperfixations. Time to wrap it up. “They rarely kill. They consume the rotten and undesirable. They prevent disease. I love seeing them because to me they are not just symbols of death, they’re life. There is no real death here, only the cycle of life reusing its building blocks to make more life. I don’t want to be embalmed when I die. I want to be put in the earth to rot, that way the molecules that make up my body can be where they belong. Everywhere. Death as a continuation of life. Everything that consumes me, I will be.”

I was used to creeping people out. The room was quiet for a bit, digesting the condensed documentary I had just unloaded on them, punctuated with my funeral plans.

What do you see when you look at me? I don’t look like a monster, not until you interact with me. My way of talking has never been quite human. I am physically the human animal. I don’t like that many humans don’t see themselves as animals. We are. We’ve tricked ourselves into thinking we aren’t, that we are something separated from the animals and plants and dirt, and that’s not healthy.

So I refuse to act. It unsettles people.

I am an animal of the dirt and sky and rain.

I just happen to wear human skin.

The conversation moved on.

The day’s session came to a close.

There was a new respect for vultures in that room. I walked away feeling lighter in mind and body. I stood on the 3rd floor of the parking garage and looked out over the streets.

I opened discord on my phone and scrolled back through a conversation with a friend.

tigergirltail - 06/06/2024 9:50 AM

Maybe wanting to be a therian is a symptom of being a therian. It didn't occur to me until last night that wanting to have the dreams was a sign.

ashedink 06/06/2024 9:51 AM

That’s a good point.

Kinda like how some people figure out they’re trans, not because of a presence of gender dysphoria, but by the absence of gender euphoria.

tigergirltail - 06/06/2024 9:55 AM

Wanting it is that first symptom.

Yeah, literally how I awakened.

We’ve been friends for so long, and we’re still finding new bridges to cross together.

Maybe I will follow you over this one too, if my therapist is satisfied with how inpatient therapy went.

Is it arrogant to try to become that which I hold in such high spiritual regard? Maybe that’s just human greed want it. There is no dysphoria here, I simply exist as I am regardless of my vessel.

But maybe I should try it. Maybe euphoria is waiting for me in an unexpected shape.

I mean, I’ll be an animal either way.

Maybe I'll be a happy animal.

#therian HRT #writing #oh gods fuck I'm posting writing to tumblr how did this happen

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bluepotion85 · 2 months

Text

The Golden Ratio - Chapter 2

(The following story contains male weight gain, food play, BDSM, kidnap, encouragement, and feeder/feedee scenarios. If that's not for you, then go to church or something vanilla dude.

This takes place during and after the events of the One-Piece film GOLD. For a better experience see the film on your local streaming service.

This story is written in collaboration with @bee-wg )

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

Tesoro

For days, he remained on the wall, trying to resist the pheromones in the room. They did their job to keep him aroused through the day, the heat inside him only growing the longer he stayed in the room.

He tries to hide it, covering himself while he eats or sees his crewmates on the projection. But the excess energy makes him restless, he wriggles against the wall, grunting through the day. He will beg me for help soon, or so I thought. Instead, he uses that extra energy to shout at me while I work.

“You wannabe singer, golden turd, marine puppet, crocodile look alike, gold fetishist!” He shouted.

“Are you this desperate for me to kill you?!” I replied.

He grinned at me between huffs of air.

“Try to kill me then, king of frauds,”

While he tries to look tough, his body is drenched in the collected sweat of several days, with breath laborious, and his dick remaining semi-hard. He is desperate to make a move; I can tell the sad man doesn't know it’s futile.

“You know, I could kill you, but why waste a good execution here? What about a public execution at 8 pm?”

"..."

“Lunch Time! Now eat your food and shut your mouth.”

The gold from the wall spits his body, and he tries to dash towards me, but shackles form from the floor, making him fall face-first into the golden floor.

I can’t contain my laugh as he rubs blood off his nose after that fall. “How many times will you try to do that? It's useless to try and oppose me,” I said.

“Screw you,”

“Enough chatter. I have to get back to work. You have a wall to decor, we’re both busy,”

I set the projection with his friends, and he sits on the floor to eat his food. While we watched his friends fight to make me richer, I sensed his eyes filled with rage staring at me. They are exquisite, the vitriol, the resentment, the desire for vengeance all boiling. When he realizes his efforts amount to nothing, all that anger will be turned to self hatred, to submission.

“I can feel the floor touching me in a weird way. Can you stop that?” he said.

“Eh, what?” I replied.

“Yeah, just like in the wall. I can feel the gold moving around my back in weird places,”

“You mean your butt?”

“Can you stop it or not?!”

“I don't know what you are talking about. Maybe you are not used to being surrounded by gold,”

“Don't play dumb, it's obviously you're doing it,”

“Or cramps for being in the same positions for too long,”

“Don't just ignore me!”

“A massage will fix it,”

“Massage-? I won't let you put your dirty hands on me,” he replied.

“Back to the wall, it is.”

”Fine, when you have your guard down, I will strike you.” he murmured.

With a hand gesture, a table rose from the floor at the center of the room. Golden arms stretch from its sides and get ready to work. A snap of my fingers is all I need to make the gold attach Roronoa to the table.

“Wait, I'm restrained even in this?”

“Absolutely, I don't want you to do anything stupid with my massager. Now be quiet.”

With another snap of my finger, the arms get to work. They run through his back with care. I turn around and get to work while the massage continues.

“What are you-?! Get your hand off that!”

“What's that noise? I told you to shut your mouth,”

“Tell your stupid massager not to touch my butt!”

“What's the matter? Never been massaged there?”

“Why would people get a massage there?”

“When you get a massage, you release the body's bottled-up tension, but if you ignore any area, all that tension just migrates there. All the strongest pirates know this,”

“imposible, that makes no sense.”

“What kind of pirate are you? Everybody knows this. Lots of vice admirals get them here."

"In any case, just stay quiet and let the arms do their job. It's not their fault you are a virgin broke slave who doesn't have taste or culture,”

“Quit it with the virgin thing!”

“You are a virgin! Have you ever had sex before?”

“Those things are not relevant to my training. They are distractions from the mind,” he said confidently.

After that, he got back in position and the massage continued. I can sense every touch and movement my gold takes, so of course I can tell every movement the golden hands do on his body without watching. Every groan when they pass through his crack, the restrained whimpers as they caress his chest, but the fabulous moment is when one of the fingers enters his ass, and he wriggles on the table.

Even then, he remains in place, keeping the same image of bravado. He believes my lie so easily, he must be so ignorant of the most basic of information I can convince him of anything. I wonder how much I can push it.

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

Zoro

It's been a week since the first time that golden perv got me on the miserable massage table. Now they have become part of our messed-up routine.

“Lunchtime,” said the gold bastard.

For some reason, he has started to spend more time here, so all my meals are accompanied by his sickening grin. A servant brings the food for the both of us. He turns the TV on to see what’s going on with Luffy and the crew, and lastly, he snaps his fingers to summon the massage table.

I look at it and wonder how many days have passed since I got here. I lost track of time, with days starting to mesh together.

“Come on, Roronoa, We don't have all day,” he said mockingly.

He finds entertainment in watching me try to get used to them. I can’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me struggle. At some point, he makes them continue to massage me even in the wall. In a twisted way, it gives me plenty of opportunity to adapt.

They also made my body less frustrated than in my first days here. My body still craves release, but that's beside the point.

“You heard me. Get on the table,” he said.

I get on the table, and the arms get ready to work.

After the first massage, the gold perv came with some massage oils. I could smell the same scent of his disgusting cologne as he unscrewed the bottle.

“I don't need it,” I said, holding my breath.

He got closer to my face and said, “It's not a suggestion. You can thank me later,”

Fucking maniac, he is so self-center he wants everything to smell like him.

Whatever the oil is, as soon as it touches my body, I can feel it sipping into my skin. It fans the fire that started to burn inside me days ago, growing wilder as more of the oil is rubbed against my neck. I try to hold my breath, keep my head clear, and get this over with while they tend to my shoulders. They pressed against my back, loosening a nudge of tension, but also made me take a deep breath from the force. The smell of the oil saturates me in a second. The stress of staying dangling from the wall transitions into an animalistic drive. I have an itch that needs to be scratched.

I need to get off this table, run, stretch my legs, fight anyone, something! This energy running through me is making me go insane.

The hands move to my feet and I try to relax, letting my determination win over my body. Then they start to move up towards my legs. The more it moves, the less control I have left.

They work my thighs with vigor, the palms run their way into my inner thighs. Then their movements become slow, with the sound of my heartbeat as loud as Luffy’s snoring. Fuck, they are going to do it now.

Just get to it! Wait, I don't look forward to something like this.

I want it to end sooner, that's all.

They grab my asscheeks, groping them before revealing my entrance. The hands slowly let my sweat and the oil mix around the entrance before forcing a finger inside.

A grunt escapes my mouth.

The pressure dissipates. It subsides faster with each session. It proves that I'm mastering this form of training. The golden fingers explored every inch of flesh inside me for the past few days, learning the places I store my stress. As they massage each point, I can feel the stress leave my body. In its place, the fire inside me flares even more.

I can feel my dick hard against the table, precum flowing out of me against my will. Getting a hard-on over a massage is embarrassing; having one in front of this perv is beyond worst. But between the hands, the oil, and my longing for release, there is little work from my brain right now besides basic instinct.

The little strength still within me is holding me in place, not rubbing my dick against the golden table. The hands continue their massage, extending deeper into me, expanding against the walls of my anus with every breath I take.

The motion is intoxicating, and I feel climax so near but something is missing. Good, I would never cum from something like this. Then the hands launched even deeper; I had to suppress a moan. What are they doing? My balls are tight, ready to shoot at the next movement. I don't want that, but my body moves on its own, pushing against the golden arms.

Before I can make a fool of myself, the arms retreat and leave me pent up at the table. I draw air in regardless of the smell. I'm spent and yet restless.

“You might be finally enjoying it. It took you long enough, Roronoa,” he said, standing beside the table.

“Shut up,” I reply drily.

He grabs me by the hair and pulls me up. I try to break free, but my arms turn to gold as soon as I raise them.

“What is this then? You have made a mess of my table with that pathetic dick,”

“If I had my swords, I would cut you into pieces,”

He threw me away and snapped his fingers. My body was instantly free from the gold bind. He gestured to the wall as my swords emerged from within it. I ran towards them without a second thought.

“Asura: Ichibugin” I yell.

My swords stayed inches away from his skin when he decided to turn me into a golden statue.

“You are either very resilient or absolutely stupid,”

“People like you don’t understand. Shame, virtue, morals? None of that means anything in the face of power. In the face of money!” He said before kicking me across the room.

“You think you are above anyone, all this posturing as if anyone cares? You are dirt, a decoration on my wall, nothing more! So give up and stop with these stupid stunts.”

I coughed, trying to get some air back into my lungs, but before I could, he got beside me.

“I will teach you, even with a bounty of three hundred and twenty million berries, your life is nothing to the eyes of the world,”

The gold from the wall extends and puts my body back in the wall.

“And I will start by showing what happens when dirt like you want to act all sanctimonious here,”

Then I felt something enter my hole; it expanded as it made its way inside me.

“What are you doing-?!”

“I'm upgrading your massages. This plug will keep you nice and accessible for your next session,”

The gold keeps entering my body like the arms on the massage table, my mind is drowning in rage, but my dick remains hard.

“Make it stop,”

“And miss the face you are making right now? I don't think so, all that anger, that shame. It’s entertaining, and the more you resist, the more I’ll get to enjoy it,”

“You sick fuck,”

“Said the pirate leaving a pool of precum on my floor?”

How can I keep a hard-on now, of all moments? What is happening to me?

“Your friends might entertain the entire city, but you, You are my personal entertainment, pirate hunter,”

He turned around, leaving me panting on the wall. For the rest of the day, he continued to work on his desk, eyeing me whenever he felt like it. All while the gold in the wall continued to mess with my insides. The gold probe moved inside me with a constant pace, leaving my dick rock hard but never close enough to cum.

“I'm done for the day, but before I go. I´ll grant you a last taste of heaven before going back to hell,” he said, approaching me.

I could barely listen to him. The perpetual state of arousal had clouded my senses. Even then, my glazed eyes saw him snap his fingers. The probe went overdrive at that moment, vibrating violently and sending static shocks. My inside is raw from the constant stimulation, with the vibrations massaging every inch of flesh into oblivion. The electricity travels through my body, making a spot inside my cavity jolt, the same one that has been firing arousal into my brain whenever the probe touches it. The intensity of the probe increased. I never knew my ass could feel anything at all; now, all my senses are heightened from the intensity.

I let out a yell as the shock sent me over the edge. Ropes of cum fire from my cock, staining the floor in front of me.

“Savor this moment Roronoa, 'cause you won't feel it again until you learn to do it on your own,” he said.

He left the office, leaving me in the dark of the room. What does he mean by my own? It doesn't matter. I need to get out of here. Our crew has too many perverts for me to turn into another one.

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