Period Trouble
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader
Warnings: swearing, nothing else i think?
Summary: you wake up with your period and are forced to go on a mission with Logan of all people
Word count: 2.4k
A/N: literally obsessed with this man rn so ofc i had to write about him. also wolverine has enhanced senses including smell but its like…. barely shown in the movies so i had to search it up to be sure, and some part of me still doubts it but for the purposes of this fic he does have it
You woke up with a groan, immediately curling into a ball. You were early. You were early and you hadn’t emotionally or physically prepared for having your period today, yet the world seemed ready to punish you, burdening you with an early cycle.
You checked the time, cursing every god and deity you knew when you realised you were supposed to have woken up half an hour ago. Wincing, you got up, your body screaming at the movement. Already your stomach was aching, the ghosts of cramps to come caressing your body.
There was knocking at your door, quiet yet firm. You already knew it was Storm on the other side of the door, no doubt in search of a reason why you failed to get up on time. It was going to be a long day.
You yelled out to Storm, promising to be out in five minutes, and got up, groggily looking for your clothes. When you’d tamed your hair and brushed your teeth, you exited your room to find Storm waiting on the other side, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
She took one look at you and sighed. “What are you wearing?”
You looked down perplexed. “....my clothes?”
She raised her eyebrow. “You’re on a mission today, remember?”
Fuck. You nearly let out a whine. You were not in the mood to go skulking around doing Xavier’s bidding when you had a constant throbbing pain assaulting your stomach, unreasonable mood swings, and exhaustion weighing you down.
Storm sent you a questioning look. “You up for this?”
The mission was nothing big. Professor X needed you to collect some sort of rare herb that had recently been shipped into the nearest city, something he needed to complete a super secret experiment you weren’t privy to. He’d just asked for help and you’d volunteered.
Oh how you regretted that decision now.
“Yeah I’m fine,” you muttered. “Let me just get changed real quick.”
Getting into your previously decided upon outfit, a plain inconspicuous one intended to blend in, you left your room again, this time with no complaint from Storm. Your stomach gave an uncomfortable clench and you sighed, making a mental note to find some nurofen before leaving for the mission.
“Why aren’t you in your outfit?” you asked, just realising Storm wasn’t wearing what you two had agreed upon yesterday.
She winced slightly. “Can’t go. Filling in for some classes.”
Your face soured but you tried not to hold it against her. Storm loved her students, and given the choice of helping them or Xavier with a low level mission, she’d obviously choose her kids. You couldn’t blame her exactly, but it meant you’d have to go on this mission alone, while not impossible by any means it would make it slightly more difficult.
You sighed. “That’s okay. I can go alone.”
When Storm winced even more your eyes narrowed in suspicion, following her with caution. “Storm…..”
She sighed guiltily. “Xavier didn’t want you to go alone. The herb’s too valuable.”
You tilted your head slightly as you entered the house’s foyer. “So who am I going with then?”
Storm’s eyes darted ahead, and you followed her gaze to find Logan Howlett leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He smirked at you, “you’re looking at him sweetheart.”
You resisted the urge to groan, instead sending Storm a dirty look. You didn’t necessarily dislike Logan, but he was a lot to deal with, and you were already tired from your day that had barely begun.
You couldn’t say all that with Logan standing there however, so you muttered a, “lovely,” and walked past the man to the garage.
He followed you silently, no quip or smart ass comment which was strange for him. You’d just entered the garage, heading towards one of the cars, when you glanced back at him and found Logan stopped in the doorway, staring at you with a frown on his face. Or rather, a deeper frown than usual.
“What is it?” you asked him, standing at the hood of the car.
Logan’s eyes roved your body, searching for something. “You’re injured.”
It was your turn to frown. “What? No I’m not.”
He took a step forward, almost as if he was planning on looking for your alleged injury himself. “Don’t bullshit me Y/n, I can smell your blood.”
You made a face. “What are you talking about…..” you trailed off when you realised it, perhaps the most mortifying moment in your life.
Logan could smell your period blood. He thought you were bleeding from an injury.
You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
He scoffed, walking towards you until you were face to face. You tried to step back and felt the hood of the car against your legs. “I can smell the fucking blood seeping out of you Y/n. I wouldn’t call that fine.”
You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from snapping at him. “I can assure you, I am not injured.”
You moved to walk past him but he caught your wrist, forcing you back into your position pressed against the car. “If you think I am going on this mission with you while you’re wounded, you’re out of your mind.”
“I’m not-”
“Do you think I’m an idiot darl? Is that why you’re denying being hurt while I can literally smell it on you-”
You cut him off. “I’m on my period, Logan.”
He paused, staring at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. You waited for him to speak, feeling embarrassed and furious about it. Why should you be embarrassed of your period? He was the one who was pushing you, prodding you, forcing you to tell him the source of the bleeding. If your answer made him uncomfortable, that wasn’t your fault nor your concern.
Eventually he spoke. “Alright then. Get in the car. I’m driving.”
You scowled at him. “Says who?”
He didn’t even bother looking at you, already in the driver’s seat. “Says me.”
You sighed but didn’t argue further, silently getting into the passenger seat. Logan started the car, reversing it out of the garage and driving down the long winding driveway till you got to the street.
“It’s an hour's drive to the city, give or take,” you told Logan, setting the GPS up on the car.
Logan barely glanced at it, eyes on the road, a firm grip on the steering wheel. He didn’t even respond to you. You sighed and turned away, looking out the window as the scenery passed you in flashes.
As the drive continued, you noticed Logan sending you glances every now and then. If you really focused on them, you’d almost say they seemed worried, concerned even, but they were always too quick for you to tell for certain. You were too preoccupied with your cramps that had started up anyway, and the lack of nurofen you’d forgotten to grab.
Finally, you arrived at the city, driving into the hustle and bustle of the crowded area. Logan’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, obviously not a fan of the traffic the city provided. You watched the stream of people through the window as Logan looked for a space to park, muttering under his breath.
You were mildly entertained at the amount of road rage he had, cursing every car that wasn’t at least 10 metres over the speed limit. His jaw was clenched, hand fisting the steering wheel, yet he still looked at you here and there, like you were actually wounded.
When he eventually found a parking spot the two of you got out of the car and you looked at the address Xavier gave you.
“Should be somewhere along this street,” you murmured, eyes flicking from the piece of paper to the busy street.
Logan moved behind you, so close you could feel your back against his chest, and looked at the paper in your hand. He let out a grunt and moved past you, walking forwards. You frowned and hurried your pace, not wanting to lose him amidst the crowd of people.
Luck was certainly not your side, because soon enough you’d lost him, unable to see his black leather jacket in the throng of people. You hesitated, wondering if you should look for him or just go straight to the address, when you felt an arm around your waist.
“Stay close to me,” Logan murmured into your war, his voice gravelly. “Don’t wanna lose you again.”
You glanced at him as he continued walking, not moving his arm from your waist. “How’d you find me?”
He gave you a smirk. “Followed the smell of blood.”
Again you felt your cheeks heat but you glared at him defiantly, refusing to be embarrassed. He smirked at you, flashing his teeth, as you arrived in front of the address, a plain building home to some sort of florist.
Logan finally took his hand from your waist, walking to the door with you trailing behind him. A bell gave a little jingle as you entered, and you were immediately assaulted with the smell of flowers. Different sorts of plants took up every corner of the room and Logan’s face soured as he looked around, obviously not pleased with the environment.
An old woman sat behind a desk, watering a plant with a mini watering can. You walked up to her, Logan hot on your heels. When you stopped in front of the desk Logan was so close behind you you could actually feel his chest against your back.
“Mrs May?” you asked.
The old woman looked at you with a smile, her eyes crinkling. “That’s me. What can I help you two lovebirds with? Bouquet of roses? Lilies?”
You opened your mouth, surprised, and tried to find something to say. Being mistaken for a couple shouldn’t have affected you so much, especially while on a mission, but you were flustered and could still feel Logan’s chest right against your back, his warmth almost dizzying.
“We’re not here for flowers unfortunately,” Logan spoke, saving you. Except why didn’t he specify you weren’t a couple? Did that not matter to him, what some old lady thought, or did he enjoy the idea of being thought of as your boyfriend?
Oh god. What were you thinking? Stupid period hormones.
The old lady looked at you two curiously. “Then how can I help you?”
There was a pointed silence and you realised Logan was waiting for you to speak. You cleared your throat and spoke the random sequence of words Xavier had you memorise, that would inform Mrs May just what type of buyers you were.
The woman’s eyes lit up with recognition and she nodded her head slowly. “Ah, yes, let me just go to the storage room quickly, I’ll be back….”
Mrs May tottered around the desk and through a side door, half hidden behind the multitude of plants covering the area, leaving you alone with Logan.
You took a step away from him and turned around to look at him, finding him staring at you with a frown on his face.
You frowned back at him. “What’s up with you today?”
He raised his eyebrows at you. “What is up with me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed Darl but you haven’t exactly been up to par yourself.”
You rolled your eyes at his words. “That’s not what I meant, and besides, I’m on my period.”
Logan stared at you, arms crossed. “What did ya mean then?”
“You’ve been acting strange. Less talkative and annoying like usual.”
Logan snorted. “Ever the lady.”
“I’m serious. What’s up with you?”
Logan sighed and took a step forward until he was towering over you and you had to crane your head up to look at him. “You are what’s up. I can constantly smell you bleeding, and I can’t get it out of my mind that it means you’re hurt. You’re driving me crazy sweetheart.”
Well…. That certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Logan smirked down at you as if he knew that, and enjoyed surprising you. You cleared your throat as your eyes darted to the floor. “Well, that’s hardly my fault.”
Logan chuckled. “Not your fault no, but it is your doing whether you mean to or not.”
You swallowed, looking back up at him. “Well…. Don’t you constantly smell when people are on their periods?”
“It’s different with you. Smelling your blood just drives me crazy, plain and simple. Can’t get the instinct out of my head that blood means injury.”
The way Logan was admitting all of this, with such calm, made you think he’d been wanting to say this for a while. The unspoken confession was there, and it was up to you to decide what to do with it.
“I’m glad you care,” was what you landed on, unsure of what else to say.
Logan chuckled again, one hand snaking to your waist. “I do a lot more than care, Y/n.”
You smiled softly, looking up at him. With his other hand he brushed your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The sound of a door closing brought you out of your little bubble and you took a step back, Logan reluctantly letting go of your waist.
Mrs May, either not having seen you two or graciously deciding to ignore it, passed you a package, informing you the herb and all information involving it was inside, and to handle it with care. You nodded and thanked the old woman before exiting the building, Logan again right on your heels.
As soon as the shop’s door closed behind you Logan’s hand was back around your waist. “Not losing you this time.”
You tried not to smile, though internally you were grinning like a maniac, and let Logan lead the two of you back to the car. You didn’t even get to argue your case of driving this time, Logan already in the driver’s seat. You sighed and got into the passenger seat, resigning yourself to another hour of silence as Logan started driving, when you felt his hand on your thigh.
You looked at him but he didn’t say anything, just gave it a light squeeze as he kept his eyes on the road. You looked away, grinning. So maybe the world didn’t have it out for you after all.
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Hellloo! Here for your even! Can this match-up happen in JJK?
How about a reader who is very selective with their peers but hold those people very dear. They're also a big bookworm and astronomy nerd so do with what you can! They're also concious of being left behind and alone and wouldn't show it, thus would constantly do everything to help and be kind under a perfectionist but reassuring chatacter.
I hope this isn't too confusing! Thank you for reading this request!
I match you with KENTO NANAMI
Kento holds you to a high standard in his books. You’re wife material really, however, he thinks maybe he’ll talk about that another time.
You guys are alike in many ways but different as well. He values your self-proclaimed flaws even though he tells you you're perfect.
Both of your guy's groups are small, having been in that group for most of high school both of you grew and learned to keep it small. Losing people or just being careful with who to bring around was helpful for both of you.
Kento feeds your reading obsession. If you guys aren't home then you're in a cafe or library. He spoils you to the absolute max.
You mentioned a book sounded interesting? It's wrapped with a ribbon on your bed.
Do you stare at a ring for more than a couple seconds? It's your new promise ring.
You scold him about his tendencies but he always says the same thing. “I'm just pampering the woman who holds my heart.”
Now other than the libraries and cafes you guys are at observatories. Or even out where you have a full view of the night sky and shimmering stars.
More times than not, he falls asleep to your voice, explaining to him which constellation is which. Your fingers trace the structure onto his bare skin.
He thinks you're the prettiest like this. The moonlight illuminating your features enough that you resemble a star yourself.
He tells you all the time you'd be the sun. Since you've always seemed to brighten his day every waking moment.
When he misses you and he's away at work he knows where to look. While it's day, he treasures how bright it is. While it's night, he admires the stars.
Kento knows what it’s like to feel and be alone. He’s always enjoyed solitude, although meeting you has changed him. Now when you aren’t with him he finds himself counting down the hours until he’ll be with you again.
He wonders if when your wedding day arrives he’d be able to access a sample of the moon in your ring. Just so he can prove it when he tells you he loves you to the moon and back. He remembers a poem you wrote, you said it was of him.
“Like the moon. Everyone admires me. But I’m always alone.”
He thinks back to it and he brings it up to you now. He tells you that if he’s the moon then you’re the sun and that doesn't make him alone. Because his life revolves around you.
Without him there’d be no moonlight.
And without you, there’d be no gravity to ground him.
© yuuuhiii 24 : don’t plagiarize, translate, or post my work on other platforms
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LOVER, PLEASE STAY. . .
chapter two
synopsis you and wooyoung have been best friends for as long as you could remember, always overcoming everything in your friendship even after a few bumps in the road and confessions in the past. you could always trust that no matter wooyoung will always be there, right?
wc 1.9k
chapter warnings scene where wooyoung is intoxicated but its only mentioned, he’s asleep through most of that scene tbh.
if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ♥️
there was certainly subtle signs, you realized in retrospect, that you had simply been oblivious to. little things, perhaps, that seemed harmless at the time, but were in fact an ominous portent of what was to come. and then, the massive punch to the jaw which would knock you into reality. it was as if all the warning signs you had missed were glaring out at you now. you had to accept the truth, the cold harsh truth that jung wooyoung was no longer someone that you could call at two in the morning just because you needed a voice
jung wooyoung was no longer the one you could listen to for hours on end, and not get bored. he was no longer intertwined with you.
and you were afraid. you were completely and utterly afraid more than anything your mind could fully comprehend at that moment. wooyoung was all you knew, all you wanted to know, and this sudden revelation threatened to overwhelm you with fear. the possibility of losing him was insurmountable. you desperately wanted to cling to his every word, latching onto the hope that somehow this would all turn out alright.
but deep down, you knew better.
you weren’t sure why you stayed.
seonghwa breathed a sigh of relief when he opened the door and saw you standing there. “finally, you're here,” he said, his relief evident in his voice. “he’s on the couch, he didn't even make it there himself. i had to drag him after he passed out on the floor.” he sighed again as he led you inside the familiar home, your gaze taking in the surroundings as you tried to assess the situation.
you frowned as the imagery in your mind clashed with the reality in front of you. wooyoung was there, passed out on the couch, curled up in a blanket. his lips were slightly parted, and soft snores were coming from his mouth. everything about this sight reminded you of the old wooyoung, the one you had fallen for. it was as if this sight was frozen in time, the only disturbance being the slow rise and fall of his chest indicating his breathing.
every part of you wanted to linger here, to simply stay in this moment with wooyoung. as if this was proof that he hadn't changed, that deep down the same man was still there. the small motions of his body were like comfort to you in this dark time. all you wanted was to stay here, to observe him as he slept, and forget the world outside.
“he was drunk off his ass,” seonghwa broke your thoughts
"but when is he not at this point..?" you heard him mutter, shaking his head as he leaned against one of the walls, arms folded over his chest. you glanced at him, suddenly acutely aware of your own ache. you felt as if you were responsible somehow, as if you played some part in the pain wooyoung was in right now. your heart squeezed tight in your chest, feeling like it didn't fit inside of your body.
just a little longer. that’s all you needed, just one more moment of denial. could you really let go of the last vestiges of innocence that made you happy in this situation? maybe just for one tiny little moment longer, you could pretend everything was okay. you wanted to beg the universe to let you have that just for one miniscule second.
sighing, you took the first step towards wooyoung, gently shaking him. “woo.. come on, let’s go..” you said, trying to wake him up. the exhaustion in his demeanor was almost palpable, like a thick fog hanging over him and covering his eyes.
“go away..” he mumbled, his words slurring ever so slightly as he tried to turn over to get more sleep. he was intoxicated, although not to the same extent that you had presumed before. however, he was still not in a state of coherent thought, and he was still clearly not lucid enough to carry on a proper conversation with you.
you could hear seonghwa sigh from behind you, "i’ll help you get him into the car," he said calmly. he pushed himself off the wall and walked towards you, and a sleeping, grumpy wooyoung who was groaning about the fact you two cared about him so much. why was he being this way? when had he become so closed off and resistant to your care?
you frowned, "thank you, hwa," you whispered. he gave you a small nod in reply, understanding the situation. you struggled to keep hold of wooyoung’s left side, having to bear his weight as he resisted your care while seonghwa had control over the right side and was doing his best to help support most of it.
it was difficult to get down the long hallways, especially while trying to keep wooyoung propped-up and steady. yet, determination was what made the two of you succeed in getting him in the backseat eventually. after all the effort, you had finally managed to lay him down, though you couldn’t help but worry. the entire trek to your car had left you exhausted, anxious, and filled with a strange sense of relief yet regret.
“you sure you’ll be able to handle this?" seonghwa asked, looking at you with an expression that was full of uncertainty and hesitation. you could see the debate going on in his mind, as he debated whether he should let you go or not.
"it's wooyoung." you said the answer that you thought he needed, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself of anything. the two of you remained in a stare-down, your heart racing faster the longer he doubted you. it seemed like he was on the verge of saying something else, until he finally gave you a small nod and backed off.
he sighed, looking back at the backseat one last time and catching a glimpse of a passed-out wooyoung through the window. he repeated your words, "It's wooyoung," with a more sorrowful tone in his voice. he was concerned about you, knowing just how deep your devotion to wooyoung was. he knew that you'd do anything for him, go through any lengths to ensure his safety and comfort, regardless of the risks or consequences.
he also knew that it wasn't a healthy dynamic, and he couldn't help but worry about you. he was caught between caring for your well-being and letting go of the fact that he couldn't always protect you. it seemed like it was one or the other, and both options terrified him.
"i’ll text you when I'm home, okay?" you tried to reassure him once more, leaning slightly against your car as you spoke. your hand on the roof of the car, you looked at him one final time, wanting to assure him that everything would be okay and that you'd be careful.
seonghwa looked at you a bit longer, "you better." he said back to you with a softer tone, as if he was hoping you would, for his own sanity's sake. he wanted to believe that you would be careful and keep yourself safe, despite the fact that he knew the answer could be far different. it was something that he could never truly grasp, just hope that you'd choose the better option.
getting into the car, you settled in and started to put your key into the ignition. "are we going home?" you heard wooyoung’s muffled voice as he shifted in his seat and moved, laying his head on his arm. he had a slight squish look to his face, and his lips were parted from the way he was resting, looking almost like a pouting child.
you glanced at him through the rear view mirror, adjusting yourself before humming. "yeah, we are." you said, giving one more final look at seonghwa who stood at his front door, watching you with a small and worried expression. he remained on his front lawn, standing firmly as if he wasn't sure of what to do with the current situation.
he stood there, looking back at you for a few more seconds before stepping back, his hand lifting in a little goodbye gesture. though, you couldn't see his expression, you got the sense that he was struggling to hide his worry. he tried to smile and wave as you started to drive off, but the tension was palpable. you felt his gaze on you even as he was no longer in sight, and you couldn't help but worry about him as well.
the next morning, wooyoung woke up, tangled in his bedsheets as he felt a pounding headache and his heart beating rapidly. he wondered how he got here, remembering how he stumbled to seonghwa after getting into a fight at the bar. he recalled seonghwa scolding him for being reckless, and he recalled the fight itself, as well. all he could think of was your face, and the disappointed look on it. even in his half-drunken state, his mind kept going back to you.
he glanced over at the two pills sitting on his nightstand, the realization suddenly sinking in as he froze. he could recall you and seonghwa trying to lift him out of the car and you crying as you drove him home. he remembered pretending to be asleep, trying not to hear your sniffles and cries as you drove. the pills on his nightstand were a sobering realization, and he remembered now what had happened last night.
he took the pills as they were, not chasing them down with water, and he pulled himself out of bed reluctantly, staggering with half-open eyes as he walked to the living room. he searched around hoping to find you, his feet dragging on the floor with every few steps. he was still in a half-drunken state from the night before, but your presence or even just a glimpse of anything that would belong to you would have brought him some comfort.
"yn..," he called out, his voice rough from the previous night. he coughed a bit, walking around as he tried to look for any sign of you. he was slowly becoming more alert and attentive, though he hadn't quite reached the clarity that would give him the ability to see clearly just yet. he stumbled around a bit, trying to stay focused on trying to spot you.
then he saw you on the couch, curled up in a small blanket with your soft and peaceful snores leaving your parted lips. you had seemingly fallen asleep unintentionally, and the remote was still in your hand as the television remained on. he couldn't help himself, standing there for a moment as he watched you rest, seemingly more peaceful than he had seen you be before. it almost made him feel guilty, knowing that you were only unhappy when he was around.
it almost felt like all time stopped, as he realized that all he had done was make you sad. he could see the hurt and unhappiness that he had caused you, not wanting to think about the fact that he was the one who had caused it. it was a sobering realization that he struggled to face, as he felt all of the guilt come crashing down on him.
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The Queen’s Guard - Chapter 6: Promise
knight!simon riley x queen!reader
word count: 2.5k
[<<< chapter 5]
For the first time, in longer than you can remember, you don’t dread the morning sun. You watch it crest the horizon, feel its warmth radiate on your skin, bask in its dewey light- bathing you in a delightful glow.
And it feels so surreal, like you’re surely doomed to wake from this dream, like the strong arms that had held you so tightly, and the lips that kissed yours so passionately, were only figments of your imagination. Yet, when you reach out, your fingers graze over the very real, and very smooth, cold, dark surface of Simon’s helmet still sitting on your bedside table; unmoved since he had retrieved it from the balcony hours ago-
“It’s real, My Queen..” You suck in a breath at the thick rasp of Simon’s voice in your ear, earning you a sweet chuckle, the arm around your waist pulling you closer so he can bury his nose into the soft hair at the nape of your neck, “‘m sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
A deep sigh parts your lips at the way he feels, how solid and hot his body is wrapped around yours, his breath sneaking beneath the collar of your nightgown,
“Tell me,” You say, wriggling yourself even further against him, “can you read minds, Ser Simon?”
Your question riles a deep and genuine laugh from him this time, though he does his best to keep it quiet, only for your ears, and hopefully none that dare to pry-
“Why?” He asks, gently tugging you to turn over, “Somethin’ up here you wouldn’t want me to know?”
Smiles pull at both your lips when he taps your temple with the pad of his finger, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen something as glorious as Simon’s dimpled smirk- Gods, why would he ever hide under that helmet.. it’s a fleeting thought, but one you hope to learn the answer to eventually. Hm, eventually, when is that? How much time do you really have with him? What could possibly-
“Hey..” His calloused palm settles over your cheek, thumb tracing a soft, back and forth pattern, his eyes narrowed in concern, “What is it? I lost you..”
Such a simple question, and such a simple statement, but they feel incomprehensible. That you could have given your life to man for years, and he still knows nothing of you, thinks nothing of you- but Simon, who has only been with you for a handful of months, has somehow learned you, maybe even better than you know yourself.
You rest your palm over his hand, unsure of what to say, or where it could possibly go; his promise ringing in your ears, reverberating through your marrow and bones-
“I’m goin’ to get you out of here. I swear it.”
“If we leave.. Where will we go?”
“When we leave..” His voice is steady and hardly above a whisper, the tip of his nose grazing over yours, “We’ll go wherever you like. The coast, inland, mountains, and forests- we’ll see it all.”
“But.. Simon- the King..”
So, so sweetly, you feel him pull your head forward just enough to crush his lips against yours- effectively silencing all your relentless thoughts, even if only for this glorious moment. Because it’s so easy to be consumed in him, in his power and his gentility, his brutish strength and the way he holds you as if you were made of the most precious and rare element he knew. And once again, you feel your body giving in to him- feel the tightness gather in your belly, and the ache grow between your legs. You want him, in every way that a woman can want a man- but all too soon, he’s pulling away again, his forehead pressing against yours,
“I will deal with the King, sweet girl.” He studies you, biting harshly at his bottom lip before glancing behind you towards the sunrise, “I have to dress- your hand maid will be here soon.”
You know you should let go of him, but it feels like you only just got him- and your stubborn heart wins against the logic of your mind as you lean into him again, kissing him with a little more urgency, a fervor behind your actions that he gives into, but only for a moment. He holds you back, eyes clenched shut in a silent battle all his own,
“Little Queen, you might think me a better man than I am..” He practically groans out the words, reaching down to hitch your thigh up over his hip, pushing his pelvis forward so that his want and arousal are made quite evident to you, “But, I beg of you, not here.. Not yet.”
There’s nothing in his words or his tone that could lead you to believe he doesn’t want all the same things you do, nothing about the hard length that presses against your cunt that could possibly make you believe he isn’t holding on by the thinnest of threads, trying his damnedest to be good to you- so that you’ll never, ever think that he simply wants your body and nothing else.
“Ok, Simon..” You nod, letting him press one more kiss to your lips, one so full of pining and longing, that it threatens to steal the air from your lungs as you reluctantly relent your hold on him so that you both could sit up, a little breathless and out of sorts.
But even though you’ve parted, it doesn’t stop him from planting a few more chaste kisses over your jaw and cheekbone before tearing himself away, allowing you to watch as he moves across the room. Seeing him only in his thin base layers is enough to raise your heart rate, remembering how you helped him shed his bulky armor last night- and now, you watch ardently as he picks it up and puts it back on, piece by piece- the thick muscles of his back and shoulders rippling and flexing with every practiced movement.
And, far quicker than you like, he’s sauntering towards your side of the bed, where you’ve sat so entranced by him- seeing him once more covered by the heavy steel plates, the ones that only make him larger than life, that make his already broad frame almost unnaturally bigger, his pitch black cloak billowing behind him,
“I’ll assume my post like always,” Simon says with a low tone, taking your bare hand in his gloved one just so he can place a gentlemanly kiss to the soft, pale skin, grabbing his helmet when he lets go.
You stand, looking up at him- committing every wonderful feature and flaw to memory before it’s covered again,
“And I’ll have a raven sent to Clan MacTavish, he can help us-”
But Simon shifts on his feet, your hand still engulfed by his own, “Are you sure, My Queen?”
And you can see the way his dark brows furrow behind the helmet, he doesn’t trust Johnny, but you can understand his apprehension- he doesn’t know the Scot like you do, and if what you think is going to happen, there can be no loose ends in what’s to come.
“Yes, I’m sure. There’s not a soul that we could trust more, Simon. I promise.”
This time, it’s you who lifts his hand to your lips, kissing the black leather as if to seal your own words- something a proper queen should never do, but the warmth that spreads through you when you see his eyes widen slightly makes you want to do it again and again.
He gives you a nod, not allowing himself the chance to waste anymore time, because gods know he would never leave you if given the option- but he must. There is much to plan, much to do, too many seeds of doubt to sow in far too short a time.
Johnny’s POV——
Work. That’s what it feels like for Johnny to come home. There’s no rest for the weary, no, not at the MacTavish estate, they’d never dream of allowing such a luxury-
Buncha fuckin’ dobbers they can be.. I swear.
Yet, he greets them all the same. Giving his Da a stiff, one-armed hug, exchanging the traditional three harsh pats to the back before moving down the path towards his childhood home.
“You’ll tell us about yer visit to court, won’t ye, Johnny?”
A warm smile spreads over his face as he looks down at his youngest sister, throwing an arm lazily over her shoulder,
“Well, hi to you, too, El..” Johnny teases, ruffling her dark brown curls playfully, “I’ll give ye all the juicy gossip tomorrow- after we get some shut eye, eh?” he says, nodding at the maid as they cross the grand threshold, “And I wan’ tae hear about this new constellation ye’ve discovered, my wee little genius!”
Elsie giggles and tries to escape his hold, going on about him being a numpty- all smiles and laughter until the most senior Lord MacTavish blows out a loud scoff,
“Enough o’ that, you two. Elsie, go on, need tae talk tae yer brother.”
She shies away almost too quickly, and it makes his stomach turn, seeing the flash of fear in her eyes as she gives his side one more weak squeeze before flitting off up the stairs-
“Been a long few days, Da. ‘M right ready for a bed-“
The door to the Lord’s study slams shut, cerulean eyes pinning Johnny down in an instant,
“I dinnae give two shites ‘bout how long it’s been, son. I told ya, if you were comin’ back here, ye’d better have a wife in tow.”
Johnny rolls his eyes- big mistake.
His father is a big man, and he’s never had an issue using his size against the lot of them- Johnny being the eldest, all the way down the line, and even their Ma, gods rest her soul.
Which is how he ends up with his back shoved against the closest wall,
“Mind yer fuckin’ attitude with me, boy.” He spits the words, making sure Johnny knows just how little he still in his father’s eyes, “Ye think yer someone big and important out there, huh? Think the army made ye tough, gave ye a big heid, that it? Well, dinnae forget who-“
But, see, Johnny isn’t that little boy anymore, he isn’t that frightened little teenager constantly in fear of the good Lord MacTavish’s thumb crushing him under its weight. His time in the army has treated him well, in fact. He’s bigger, taller, stronger, and faster- and too much time spent on the front lines has made his skin thick and calloused.
With a deep snarl, Johnny is quick to grab the older man by his collar and reverse their positions before he even knows what’s happening,
“Tha’s not how this works anymore, m’lord.”
If Johnny could sketch the shock and surprise in his father’s eyes, he would- hells, he might, because it’s a beautiful sight. One he thinks he’ll remember for a long, long time to come-
“And if I hear one more cross word out of yer filthy fuckin’ mouth, I’ll cut yer tongue out m’self. Is that clear?”
Matching blue eyes stay locked in a silent battle, young and old, a battle as old as times itself, father and son going head to head, a true fight for dominance.
The old lord’s lips curls in anger and disdain, his breath hot and laden with the thick scent of Scotch,
“Ah..” he coos, a chuckle bubbling from his barreled chest, “Aren’t ye a big hotshot, spent time with the little traitorous Scottish queen herself and suddenly yer invincible, that it?”
Johnny growls right back, pulling his father forward before slamming him against the solid wood even harder, “What? And yer still mad it wasn’t one of yer daughters, huh?”
The lord struggles against his hold, but turns out, the boorish old man isn’t all that strong anymore- at least not stronger than his son, which only enrages him more,
“I’m only here to settle my inheritance, ye insufferable old bastard. We’ll talk tomorrow, when ye think ye can speak to me like an equal-“
Johnny lowers his tone to something heavier, his voice dripping with malice, “and there will be none of this, ye won’t put yer hands on me, and I willnae put mine on you. Aye?”
A long silence stretches across the space between them, a heated pause, one that threatens to explode on a hair trigger- and maybe, it’s not actually that long, maybe it’s really only a few seconds, glaring daggers into his own father’s eyes before the old man gives a hateful, “Aye.”, in return.
And if Johnny just so happens to shove the self-righteous old cunt into the wall one more time for good measure, well- that’s between him and the gods he chooses to answer to. But, fuck all if it didn’t feel good to do it.
——
When he finally gets to his room, it’s a disparaging sight- dusty and stale, not a thing changed since he left years ago. And he wishes so badly to feel peace, to feel warmth and love in the place that he should feel all those things and more- in the place he did feel all those things when Ma was still alive.
Yet, it’s just sad and cold now, just how it was when he left. But, a smile does tug at his lips when he unlatches the case Sunny had sent home with him, packed to the brim with treats and fine fabrics and leathers. Some for him and each of his sisters, and an abundance of spares that would last them for a long while-
“Yer too good to us, Grianach..” he mumbles, popping a delightful, citrusy sweet in his mouth as he continues to unpack.
And it takes a while, but eventually he pulls a lone envelope from under a primly wrapped hunting vest, one of the finest he’s ever laid his hands on- the dark brown leather soft as butter in his fingers as he lays it to the side with care.
The bone white paper is thick and stiff, royal stationary that he knows well from letters and messages he’s gotten from her before; the edge sealed with a deep green wax crest- the king’s crest. It brings a disgusted grimace to his face, thinking of the last days with her, the terrible, mottled bruises on her skin- it makes him ill to his stomach to remember.
But, with a deep sigh, he gently pulls the seal apart- recognizing her handwriting right away- though, the farther he reads, the more his guts twist and wrench, the harder his heart beats and the less air it feels like he can suck into his seizing lungs-
No.. no, no, no. This isn’t right, it can’t be- not you, not my Sunny. How could you not tell me? Why didn’t you tell me how much pain you were in-
My dearest Johnny,
I pray this letter finds you well, cousin. And, I pray for your understanding in what I feel I must do, not only for myself, but more importantly, for you. Though.. I do not think you will see it that way, and I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry, Johnny. You’ve been my best friend since my first memories, never letting me forget that you’re one month and one day older than me, or that you learned to ride a horse first- remember sneaking out to the stables? I thought Mother would kill us both when you brought me back home covered in scrapes and muck. Oh, I miss the simplicity of those days, I miss it so much it hurts. That life I had for just a moment, where I was free and untethered- or well, I thought I was. And, I suppose, perception is what really matters, isn’t it?
That is what I’ve been taught my whole life, afterall, perception is key. That I must be at my best, presented in a pretty, pretty package- pleasing to the eye and well groomed enough so that the masses may never know the chaos that lies beneath the silks and jewels.
Well, my sweet Johnny, no more. I won’t do it, I will not be scruffed by the neck any longer, I will not live as a possession, an item, an object that only exists to be pretty and used. I am more than that, and I pray.. I pray you forgive me, I pray you are not disappointed, I pray that you remember me only as I was, and not what I have become. Remember me covered in scrapes and muck with a broad smile on my face and joy in my heart. That is the real me, not this fallacy that everyone thinks they know.
I have a trusted courier at the ready, the few earthly possessions I own that mean anything to me are to be delivered to the estate. They are yours. We always shared everything anyway, no need in changing that now. Be well, cousin.
All my love, your Sunny.
[chapter 7>>>]
taglist: @spxctorsslxt
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Not That Easy | Mandalorian x Reader Imagine
Summary: When Din realised he was starting to have feelings for you, he got scared. Snuck away before sunrise and left you stranded on Nevarro. When you catch up to him on Tatooine, you have a few choice words for him.
Length: Short
Warnings: angst!
A/N: just a quick before bed drabble so I can have a nice fantasy to go to bed to. also I never write for Mando like I should and desperately needed an angst outlet. enjoy!
He had been gone for an hour, two tops. Just a quick stop in to the only person he trusted to work on the Razor Crest in these parts. Or so he had thought.
“Hey Peli?” He asked as he stepped back down from the ship towards her office, “How come my hyperspace drive-“ He didn’t get a chance to finish his question. It wasn’t Peli sitting behind the console in the office- it was you. Legs up on the console, the missing part needed to fix his hyperspace drive being used to play catch in your fingertips, as you pretended to ignore him.
“Shit.” You heard him mutter through the modulator in his helmet. You turned to see his gaze drop, head shaking, knowing he’d fucked up. He knew he shouldn’t have left you. He knew that you’d be pissed. But he didn’t realise you would be so pissed that you’d come all the way to Tatooine to wait him out and have it out with him.
“Yeah, I’d say so,” you huffed angrily as you stood, pushing past him and out of the door.
“Y/N- please, just hear me out.” He tried to say as he followed on your heels, but you were having none of it.
At first when you laid eyes on his shiny coat of beskar you had become angry, remembering the hurt of waking up to find him, the kid and the Rasor Crest gone. Not even a note left but a relayed message from Greef Karga of all people. ‘Something came up. He had to run. Wanted you to be safe and take a break.’ What utter Bantha crap.
If you were angry then, you were enraged now. Fed up of his excuses and hiding, you whirled on him, stopping him dead in his tracks. “NO! No more excuses. You- left- me!” You enunciated. “I trusted you- and you left me!” You screamed in his face. “Uhhhgggg!!! If you didn’t have that-stupid- helmet on, I’d really smack you across the face right now.” You settled for shoving him backwards. He rocked slightly, but barely moved. So you pushed at his chest again. And again. And again. Until you were just drumming your fists on his shiny metal chest, getting all of your frustration out, as you huffed and grunted and groaned in frustration.
When you finally ran out of steam, your palms hesitating, resting flat against his breast plate, unable to meet his visor, body heaving with both emotional and physical exhaustion, he tried to wrap his arms around you. To pull you into an embrace. Comfort you the way he had done all those times before he left. Shit, he knew he shouldn’t have left.
As you felt his arms began to tighten around you, your body growing tight. You may be exhausted, but you were still angry. “No.” You said, pushing him away.
When he looked into your eyes, he saw just how much damage he had done. If only you could see his, you would know how much damage you had done to him too.
It was only supposed to be the kid. He made a vow. It had been the only other living thing to really get under his skin. To make him feel… Make him care. But then there came you. The kid was so attached and you were fantastic with him. The way your giggles travelled around the Razor Crest. How could you not melt what was left of his carbonite frozen heart. Soon he found himself offloading things to you he hadn’t told anyone. He would return with wounds and you would patch them up without batting an eyelid. You looked at every place you travelled to together with wonder, and made him see those worlds in completely new ways too. How would that not scare him. Especially when his job was so dangerous. He couldn’t risk it anymore. Couldn’t risk you.
There was a faint coo from the doorway of the Razor Crest, the kid having stirred at the sound of your voice. You both turned your head to look at the kid, who tilted his head with a smile and babble in your direction; and it eased your heart.
Turning back to Mando, you said, “You didn’t think getting rid of me was going to be that easy? Did you?” You asked, as you heard the kid begin to climb down and begin to make his way to you.
“I’m sorry-“ he tried to say, before you cut him off.
“You will be.” You threatened, before turning away from him and back to your little green friend, picking him up from the ground and pulling him into your arms with the biggest smile, “Hello, little one.” You cooed loudly and sweetly- and just from the tone of your voice- Mando knew he wouldn’t be living this one down for a while.
“Hey-“ you quickly said, turning with the kid in your arms, back in his direction- his fingers rubbing at his brow over his helmet. You silently tossed him the part you had dismantled from his ship to stop him from trying to get away again. He quickly caught it, before it could reach the ground. “Put that thing back where it belongs and let’s get out of here.” You commanded. “I’m thinking somewhere nice,” you began to babble to the kid, carrying him back inside, “somewhere with sand- and crystal clear waters,” you say enthusiastically, laying it on thick so Mando can hear, just how you wanted him to make things up to you. You won’t catch-him- trying to run out on you in a hurry again.
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Texas Heat | Joel x Reader Series
Chapter 3 - Coffee and Confessions
Series masterlist
Chapter Summary: You get a job at a coffee shop. It just happens to be across the street from where Joel's working a construction job. Later, things heat up when Joel drops round to pick up Sarah.
Rating: Teen (for now)
Tags/warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, age difference (reader is 25, Joel is 37), AU! no outbreak, porn with plot, a lot of sexual tension in this chapter.
Word Count: 2.8k
Taglist: @mysterialee @amyispxnk
You wake late the next morning, head filled with half-remembered dreams about warm arms and a solid, broad chest. The mid-morning sun is already streaming through the bedroom curtains, and you can hear Connie downstairs, pots and pans clashing together as she finishes making breakfast.
You’re halfway down the stairs when she appears at the bottom, clutching a torn-out sheet of note paper which she holds out to you.
“I know you mentioned you’d like to get a part time job,” she says as you reach the bottom step, “so I called around a few places. There’s a coffee shop in town who are looking for new staff. This is the number, if you’re interested.”
She hands you the paper and beckons you into the kitchen, where there are fresh eggs and toast and a stack of steaming hot pancakes. You load up your plate with food and slide onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. Connie whistles as she starts washing the dishes. You’re halfway through your breakfast when she turns back to you and wags a finger as though she’s just remembered something.
“The Cuthberts are having a barbeque this weekend, for the neighbourhood,” she says, “they live a few houses down. You’re invited, of course.”
“Sounds good,” You say, immediately wondering if Joel will be there.
“They’ve got a pool, so make sure you’ve got some swimwear.” Connie adds, and, like a teenager with a crush, you can’t help the blush that settles in your cheeks at the thought of Joel in swimwear, wet hair swept back off his forehead and curling at his ears.
Trying to distract yourself, you examine the number for the café Connie gave you. The job sounds good, so when you’ve finished your breakfast, you pull out your phone and call them.
*****
Three hours later and you’re hopping off a bus in Cedar Park, trying to remember the directions Connie gave you. You find your way, eventually; the coffee shop is a couple of blocks from the bus stop. It’s a pretty nice area, sun-bleached grass lining the wide streets made up of modern shops and restaurants opposite a community college. Inside, welcomed by the dark wood floor and familiar smell of coffee, you feel instantly at home; you’ve done barista work before back in England, in between classes and during the summer.
“Aha,” a woman behind the counter says as you introduce yourself, “fresh meat.”
She’s attractive; mid-forties, maybe, with thick blonde hair tied up in a spotless bun and a pristinely made-up face. A badge on her polo shirt tells you she’s Gina, the manager. She hands you an apron and tells you to make her a coffee. A younger girl – probably twenty, twenty-one, with a name badge that says ‘Diana’ in bubble writing – gives you a grin and offers to help.
And so the rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of grinding and brewing and steaming. The café is busy throughout the day thanks to its prime position opposite the community college. You get to meet an array of students and professors, and although you feel a pang of envy as you watch younger, fresh-faced students settle themselves at tables to sit and write papers, you enjoy the routine and hum of the barista work.
You’re just finishing up when the bell above the door tinkles. Gina’s voice immediately greets the newcomer, and you almost splutter at the sudden enthusiasm lacing every one of her words, the slightly over-the-top, sickly sweet quality that has entered her previously no-nonsense tone. Curious about who is causing your new manager to turn into a simpering dolt, you look up.
It’s Joel, of course.
Joel, in his toolbelt and faded jeans and tight t-shirt. His hair is slicked back with sweat, and there are flecks of plaster on his tanned skin and splatted down his toned arms. Your heart stutters – actually stutters – as though this is a cheap cheesy romcom and he’s the romantic lead. Gina’s batting her eyelashes at him and he’s grinning lopsidedly at her, all southern charm and polite gentleman. Diana shoots you a look from where she’s cleaning tables in the corner, grinning.
Joel doesn’t see you immediately – you’re mostly hidden from his view by the coffee machine you’d been cleaning when he came in – but jealously rises up in your chest when he laughs at something Gina says, at the way he leans against the counter to talk to her, knee popped out, one hand resting on the top of his toolbelt. It’s maddeningly attractive – he’s maddeningly attractive – and you think of how he looked standing so close to you yesterday, the way the heat of his body rolled off him and his scent: wood chippings and soap and something uniquely him.
Finally, Gina stops flirting for long enough to take his order, and his eyes flick up as she passes the receipt with the coffee order to you (americano, no cream). You step out from behind the machine, smiling at him politely, and he does something of a double take.
“Hey.” You say as you crank ground coffee into the filter basket.
“Hi.” He gives you a smile – warmer than the one he offered Gina, you think smugly – and asks, “what’re you doin’ here?”
You point at the apron you’re wearing, at the handwritten name tag, “As of about three hours ago, I work here.”
“And how’s that going for you?”
It’s almost criminal how he can make such a simple, inoffensive question sound so intimate, so flirtatious.
“It picked up significantly in the last few minutes,” You say, holding his warm gaze and biting the side of your mouth to suppress a grin.
He flushes a little, caught off guard, and you push on, not wanting to leave the sentence hanging awkwardly between you, aware of Gina’s presence a few feet away, “How about you? What brings you to this side of town?”
He points vaguely behind him to where the community college is, “’m working on a project across the road at the moment. Big expansion.”
You try to eke out making the coffee for as long as you can, taking care to clean the filter after each shot fills the cup, keeping your eyes on Joel as he explains about the job. He’s easy to talk to. He asks how you’re finding the job, if you’ve done barista work before, and when you answer he really listens, leans in and keeps his eyes right on yours, like you’re the only person in the world who’s interesting. It’s dizzying and electrifying. The fact that Gina is hovering in the background – clearly keen to butt in and join the conversation but not getting a chance as Joel asks you question after question – makes it all the more intoxicating.
After several minutes you push the finished coffee across the counter to him. He wraps a hand around it, his thick fingers and large palm making the cup look tiny.
“Thanks, darlin’” He says, raising the cup to his lips and taking a sip. “I’d better head back, but I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”
“Yeah,” You say, then, remembering, ask, “oh – are you going to the Cuthbert’s barbeque this weekend?”
“S’long as I can get this plastering finished by Friday.” He replies, and then he’s taking long strides away from you, pushing the door open and stepping through it.
Immediately, Gina is all over you.
“You know him?” She asks, sidling up to you and leaning on the counter conspiratorially.
“He lives next door,” You explain, wiping down the coffee machine absentmindedly, still watching Joel’s broad back as he jogs across the road back towards the college.
“You lucky thing!” Gina exclaims. “He’s been coming in regularly the last couple of weeks, but I’ve never managed to get his name. Or his number.” She gives you an over-the-top wink with this last and you force a polite smile, wiping the milk steamer perhaps a little harder than necessary.
“Can we agree,” Diana says later that evening, as you both wind your way to the bus stop from the café, “that Gina is gagging for it.”
You laugh and Diana bumps against your shoulder, her own laugh high and clear against the hum of the traffic. It feels nice to be hanging out with someone who’s not related to you or thirteen years old or the object of an intense crush. And Diana is quick to laugh and easy to talk to. Her company makes the homesickness for your friends dull a little.
“No but seriously,” she says as you reach the bus stop, “I’m gay and even I can tell that Joel guy is hot. You sleeping with him?”
“What? No.” A pause as Diana raises a single eyebrow at you, and then you add, “I mean, I want to, but I haven’t. As of yet.”
This sends you both into another round of giggles as you flop down onto a bench.
“You think he’s into you too?” Diana asks when you’ve got your breath back.
“I think so, but it’s hard to tell. A couple of times I’ve thought he’s flirting with me, but then I’ll say something back or he realises what’s happening and it’s like he… panics.”
You tell her about last night, about how he looked at you in the half-light of the living room doorway, about the way he suddenly backed off but then sent a text asking you to come back again next week.
Diana shrugs, “Maybe he’s just shy?”
“Yeah, maybe.” You let your gaze drift to the row of shops opposite the bus stop, think about Joel’s face earlier when you told him he’d made your day better, about the blush that coloured his tanned face.
“You know what you’ve got to do, right?” Diana says then, her blue hair almost purple in the fading sunlight.
You roll your eyes, grin, ask, “What?”
“Well, if he turns up at this barbeque you mentioned in the café, you’re gonna have to flirt your ass off.”
“Oh, God.”
Diana cackles as the bus pulls up, and you bury your face in your hands.
*****
Joel works late the next two nights. You know because Sarah comes round both evenings and leaves only when his work truck pulls up onto their drive, at gone nine both Thursday and Friday. You help her out with maths homework, show her how to do differential equations without having to resort to tears, which proves popular.
“Usually,” she declares on Friday, as you sit at the kitchen bench while Danny feeds Nana in the lounge and Connie takes the trash out, “it’s very boring here. But since you came, it’s about a million times better. Even with the math.”
“Especially with the maths.” You reply, grinning, and she rolls her eyes.
Connie bustles back into the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
“I think your daddy’s home, Sarah.” She says as she comes in.
There’s a tap on the front door as she says it. You rise from the bench, brush cookie crumbs from your jeans and make your way down the hall. The silhouette framed by the glass of the door is broad and tall, and your stomach does a strange little jolt as you step towards it.
Joel’s face is drawn when you open the door, the bags under his eyes accentuated by the porch lights, the lines on his tanned forehead deep. He’s in his work clothes, as usual. The tool belt is off, though, which is strangely a disappointment.
“Hey,” you say grinning, and he smiles back, his tired eyes creasing at the corners.
“Hi, darlin’. Is my kid here, by any chance?”
“She is indeed. She’s just packing up her things.”
He nods, and you take in the sag in his shoulders, the yawn that suddenly stretches his mouth.
“You’re working too hard.” You say, and he chuckles.
“Been tryna finish this plastering, because someone wants me to go to a barbeque.” He quips, grinning, and you feel yourself blushing.
“Did you finish it?”
He holds his hands out to his sides, lets you take in the beige splodges that cover his jeans, the dust that coats his t-shirt, the caked soles of his large work boots.
“Reckon most of it’s on me, but there’s enough on the walls to do the job too.”
“I assume you’ll be wearing this outfit tomorrow, too?” You say, laughing as he tries and fails to brush off a particularly well-dried patch of plaster from the leg of his jeans.
“Oh, ‘course.”
Sarah appears at your side, Connie behind her. She tucks an arm around your waist and you slip yours over her shoulder.
“We did differential equations.” She says proudly, and Joel smiles at her.
“Might as well have done Greek for all that means to me, baby girl.” He says, “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
“Oh, your lawn mower’s in the garage, Joel.” Connie says, as Sarah hops out of the front door and starts down the porch steps. “I wouldn’t ask you to move it now, only Danny wants the space for the beer cooler for tomorrow.”
“No worries,” Joel says, “I’ll get it. Sarah, go on home and open the garage up.” He tosses her a bunch of keys.
“I can open up our garage,” You offer, taking the keys from Connie as she scrabbles to change her slippers, gripping the door handle and wobbling precariously.
“Thank you, dear.” She says, sighing and straightening up.
Outside, you press the key into the garage door and let it swing open. Joel stands by, grabs the top of the door as it swings open, lets it gently rise the last couple of inches. The movement pulls the top of his shirt up, revealing his stomach, the dark hairs the trace a path down below the waistband of his jeans. You swallow, avert your eyes a few seconds too late, straight up into his face. He’s smiling cockily, hand still up on the open garage door.
“Concentrate, darlin’,” He says, and the Southern drawl of it goes straight to you core, has you pressing your thighs together, heat building in your belly.
“I think the mower is just over- ugh, what the fuck!” You bat at the cobweb that you’ve just walked straight into, spluttering and clawing at it, dragging it off of your face.
Joel lurches forward in a split second, panicked by your outburst, then, realising what’s happened, falls back and starts laughing.
“Don’t laugh!” You say, pulling long silky threads from your face. “It’s all over me!”
“Here,” Joel steps toward you again, raises a hand, brushes a single fingertip over your forehead, pulling one of the web’s tendrils away from your skin.
“Thanks,” You say, suddenly stilling, letting your own hands fall, leaning into his touch.
“There’s some in your hair.”
“Can you?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.”
He reaches up, threads a hand into the front of you hair and combs through it. He’s so gentle it almost makes you whimper, his fingertips just brushing your scalp, side of his thumb barely tracing the side of your jaw, down to your neck. You feel goosebumps erupt in the wake of his hand. He’s looking at you – at your hair, his eyes wide and serious, mouth slightly open. You watch his arm, watch the muscles shift in his bicep as he moves his hand back through your hair, pulling the last of the cobweb out. He slows as he reaches the ends, lets his little finger glide almost imperceptibly under your chin, lifting your face delicately so that you’re looking right at him.
His pupils are blown wide in the dim light of the garage, that same look on his face as he had in the doorway of the lounge a few nights ago. He moves his hand from your face, hesitates, closes it into a fist by your shoulder and then sighs, a resigned, drawn out sigh. Before you can speak he’s pushing his hand back into your hair, caressing your jaw, drawing your face up, towards his lips, which are parted slightly, plump and beautiful. You’re inches from him, your breath mingling, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he leans down to meet you in the middle.
“Dad?”
You spring apart at the sudden sound of Sarah’s voice. You’re both flustered; Joel’s cheeks are ruddy and you can feel your own burning scarlet.
“Coming, we’re coming.” He says, turning from you to Sarah, who steps round the driveway into the entrance of the garage.
Joel steps past you to the mower, lifts it up easily in one arm and carries it back towards his daughter. He turns as he reaches her, looks you up and down in a way that makes you suddenly hot all over, his eyes sparkling with something deliciously dark.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’.” He says, and then he’s gone again, and you’re left alone with a thumping heart and a deep, unsatiated hunger.
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Weird intense sertraline dreams are super real side effect.
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sometimes working together on a thesis is like *she cant do her tasks because she’s busy with following classes I guess there’s really nothing else she does* me: oh its fine I get it I’m busy too sometimes you know if I can help you with anything let me know:)) vs. *I can’t do all my tasks on time bc well i work six days in a week and spend three nights a week doing volunteer work and oh because my thesis partner is apparently once again busy with following classes I guess she dumped all her work on my lap* she: oh you should tell me next time if you’re busy cause these tasks are really important :/ you shouldn’t like let them wait so long
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grabbing the ichi plush by the neck and death gripping it like 'good things are to come its all going to be ok good things are to come' like its a lucky amulet
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im so lucky to know so many people in my life to have met so many people in my life that are just life saving ill never not feel lucky people are so beautiful and kind and talented and funny and have so much worth everyone ive ever met anyone in my life i have ever touched i just cant believe it ill never be able to understand it how important everyone is how much i love people the degree to whihc i love people and everyone i have ever met ill just never ever be able to express the depth of how important it is to me it might be the most important part of my entire life. i just need people to know how much i love them im desperate for it to be known how important everyone ive ever met is to me. all of my friends everyone whos ever been kind to me and whoever ive been kind to it will never be lost on me how important it is. and i feel so lucky to be graced i guess by my friends. i cant imagine the life i would live without every event every person who ive ever crossed. i would never sacrifice anything to not be where i am now because of the people i know and have known. the people i know and talk to everyday or the people i see in a notification or pass by. i cant overstate your importance to me. i cant overstate how important i want people to feel. i want people to see themselves how i see them. i can not overstate your importance to me and i love you. im so lucky ill never be able to take it
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Nothing like some light substance abuse to really make you feel like a child again
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Did a longer disappear than intended.
Longer trip, straight back to work, days of sheer exhaustion where I have literally just managed to walk the dog then sleep, and now...
My friend died. Suddenly. A couple of days ago. Back in Wales. It's... Surreal. Like, what the fuck? I have no other words, none of us do, we're all just what the fuck and oh my god and what the fuck are we supposed to do now, this can't be happening
but I'm stuck in London, and I haven't seen another adult except my employer since I found out cos my flatmate is away and I'm working nights and I just... I keep bursting into tears and I would just like a cwtch now, and this is all just... It's hell.
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making yourself fall asleep is so hard anyways that’s why sokka stays up so late because he thinks that he doesn’t deserve to sleep lol
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I WOKE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT 💀
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ive been astoundingly Normal at my internship so far so maybe [redacted] just made me act like that :/ i bet it was that damn mustard gas incident
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