Catie Speaks The Truth.

Josh Hutcherson as Mike Schmidt Five Nights At Freddy’s (2023) dir. Emma Tammi

𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | You've patched up Joel countless times before, but this is different.

author's note | i'm taking a little break to work through some series and pre-write but i needed to write a little fix it fic for my own well being. ANYWHO, if you're reading this, thank you <3 and thank you to @chaotic-mystery for the beta read, love you bitch

content warning | hurt/comfort, fix-it-fic, jackson!joel, s2ep2 spoilers, established relationship, medic!reader, wound tending, mentions of leg injury and some face injuries, old man joel using a cane, flirting, fluff, kissing, i'm going to go cry again

word count — 3.8k

He’s breathing. Alive.

You’ve patched up Joel countless times - cuts and gashes that were too far out of reach for him to handle on his own, a busted ankle from a construction project gone wrong, the occasional painkiller to help with his aching bones. He was a regular within the clinic, like most of the patrol team. And he was your favorite, which wasn’t a secret.

But, this was different.

Tommy - as hard as he tried, attempted to shelter you with the rest of Jackson’s women and children, but it was useless.

You spent the last hour patching up the towns wounded and helping lay to the rest some of the less fortunate, but brave people who had attempted to defend Jackson from the impending horde.

In the chaos of cleaning up bloodied bandages and used medical supplies, the front door to the clinic sounds, bells ringing out so deafening it makes your heart stop.

And the sound of Tommy’s panicked voice as he called out your name.

When you turn the corner to catch sight of him, it was Tommy and Jesse carrying a limp, sleeping Joel on a makeshift gurney and equally injured Ellie holding tight to her ribs as Dina and Maria supported her weight, your eyes widening in shock.

“Fuck—I—what happened?” you ask, immediately sliding the supplies off of the only semi-available operating table you had in the office - it used to be a veterinary clinic, but the town was making do with what they had.

“You save my goddamn brother,” Tommy demanded, his tone riddled with an emotional pain you couldn’t fathom, taking the order in stride as you nodded and put your own curiosity aside, slowly accessing the weight of the situation and surmising that this had been an ambush, more or less, “alright?”

You access his knee, jeans matted with blood around his festering wound, his leg tourniqueted by a belt that Tommy explains wasn’t there doing, rather the attackers. His pulse is steady as your fingers over his femoral artery once you’ve cut his jeans open further with the scissors.

“El—Ellie,” your voice shakes slightly, looking over your shoulder to catch her grimace as she hunched over further in pain, “she needs—”

“I’ve got her,” Maria assures you and Tommy, who was understandably only focused on Joel.

You don’t waste another second, working around Tommy on instinct while Jesse followed the girls to the back room, a gentle but reassuring hand on your shoulder as he passes by.

Your hands move gently over his wound, mind racing through every step of triage and trauma care as if your nerves hadn’t already been shot an hour ago. You didn’t know how many wounds you’ve treated today, but Joel’s was the worst—and unspeakably, the most important.

The wound is bad. Deep.

Frayed flesh around the spread of the bullet, a shotgun you can assume, already turning an angry red. The steps were simple, fortunately. You’ll have to clean it out, maybe even dig if the bullet fragments were lodged in deep. 

His face is a mosaic of bruises and dried blood, and he hasn’t stirred once.

That—more than the sight of the injury itself—makes something in your chest clench.

Tommy’s gripping the table tight, white knuckling as his jaw clenched in worry.

“Do I want to know?” you ask softly.

Tommy shakes his head slightly, “Ellie ain’t said much—jus’ know whatever the problem was, it isn’t one anymore.”

“He’s gonna need blood,” you explain to him as you work quietly but carefully on the wound, grateful that most of the issue was at the surface and that with enough time to heal and consistent check-ins, Joel would recover.

Undoubtedly with a limp, but you knew Joel—he’d manage.

The quiet is unsettling, though.

He should be fighting this. Groaning. Cursing. Something.

But he’s still.

Too still.

Tommy stays rooted in place like he’s afraid Joel will vanish if he lets go.

Part of you carries that fear, too.

With the attack on Jackson, everything seemed up in the air.

“I need you to keep your hand here,” you say firmly, guiding his hand to the artery in his leg, feeling the steady pulse underneath your fingertips. “Count the beats, focus. If it slows, weakens—don’t wait, tell me.”

Tommy nods, jaw still clenched tight.

He’s got blood dripping from a cut in his brow, covered in dirt and grime, streaks on his face from the tears he was shedding quietly, it was your only attempt to busy his mind.

You work diligently, more focused than you had been all evening.

Forceps clink against the metal tray as you dig out fragments, your breath hitching every time Joel twitches—barely, like his body’s fighting beneath layers of pain and unconsciousness.

You glance toward the IV stand that was taped to hell, barely holding on.

Just like everything else in Jackson at the moment – like Joel.

“I’m gonna flush the wound,” you murmur more to yourself than Tommy, gripping the saline syringe with steady hands. “Then I’ll stitch it. Antibiotics to be safe. He’ll need pain meds and I need to work on the cuts to his face, but I want his body to rest. We have morphine stored away, but I know Joel will probably refuse…”

Tommy doesn’t respond. Just keeps his hand pressed where you told him, eyes locked on Joel’s face like he’s willing him to wake.

“He still needs blood, Tommy,” you remind him, “but I don’t know his blood type.”

“I’m O-negative,” Tommy interjects.

“That works,” you assure him, nodding for him to sit as you grab the supplies to draw Tommy’s blood, unflinching as the needle slips into his vein.

It’s all rather quick, kneeling to hold the bag as it fills while Tommy stares at his brother, looking briefly over your shoulder to catch his breathing, a slow rise and fall.

“He’s gonna be alright,” you assure Tommy, “the worst outcome here is him complaining about having to use a cane, if it comes to that.

Quietly, you tend to the small head wound that Tommy has and he doesn’t even attempt to argue, eyes flickering to your briefly at the gesture, tilting his head up for better access.

You move efficiently, like muscle memory as you tape up his wound before transferring the blood and prepping the line for Joel. 

The line finds Joel’s vein without much resistance, and you secure it with shaking fingers, your breath held as the dark crimson slowly, mercifully begins to flow into his body.

“C’mon, Joel,” you whisper under your breath. “Not you.”

“He was in and out on the way here,” Tommy comments, holding the cotton ball to use the wound as he stands and you quickly return to him to bandage up and pressure the wound, “but now he’s just…still. That ain’t good,”

“It’s the body responding to the pain,” you remind him, “he’s clearly lost a lot of blood, his face is bruised—the important thing is he’s breathing and his pulse is good. Just…let me work on him. Go check on Ellie.”

Tommy hesitates, glancing back at Joel like his feet were already rooted permanently to the floor. Then his eyes shift to yours—tired, firm, unwavering—and he nods, finally stepping away. 

Just far enough to check on Ellie. 

Just long enough to breathe.

The second he’s gone, it’s just you and Joel.

–

The room feels colder without the presence of Tommy’s worry. 

You stitch slowly, methodically, carefully maneuvering around the skin until you are satisfied, constantly eyeing Joel to gauge a reaction, noticing some of his color had returned, hair damp with melted snow.

If he was awake he’d be grumbling and complaining and part of you hates how much you wanted to hear it as you bandage up his knee, assuring that bleeding was under control before you removed the belt on his upper thigh and grabbing a spare blanket to drape over his body as you move down to tend to his face, riddled with cuts and bruises.

You press a hand against his and pull it to his chest, resting gently against the fabric of his shirt. 

His palm is rough, calloused, and warm—thank god, still warm.

You clean the last of the blood from his face, wiping gently along the arc of his brow, around the corner of his eye that was slightly swollen. A bruise is blooming dark down the line of his jaw, but under it—his face is still familiar.

Still him.

After a stretch of time that feels like eternity, Maria and Tommy return to the front room of the clinic, looking fearful as their eyes land on Joel.

“He’s alright,” you assure them both, “he probably needed the rest, too.”

Tommy chuckles weakly at that, “I—we’re…we’re gonna go pick up Benji, but we’ll be back, alright?”

You nod in response, “I’m not leaving until he wakes up Tommy, I promised.”

“I know, kiddo,” Tommy says endearingly, approaching you with arms open slightly, enveloping you into a short hug that were few and far between, “Ellie’s asleep, too. Dina and Jesse are sticking around until she settles.”

The front door clicks shut behind Tommy and Maria, the heavy silence seeping back in soon after.

You don’t move far, bringing a stool to sit beside Joel.

The clinic is dim now, the lights softened by fucky wiring as the evening crept in.

You can hear Jesse’s and Dina’s muffled voice in the back—low and quiet—and the distant creak of the cot Ellie’s curled into. But here, in this room, it’s just you. 

And Joel, and the quiet hum of his breathing.

You reach up to brush a stray bit of hair from his temple, your hand pausing just above his skin.

“You scared the hell out of me,” you whisper. “If you were awake, I’d be screaming at you,”

And you know he’d only smile.

Joel doesn’t respond, but his breathing shifts. 

Not much—just enough to prove he’s still there, riding the edge of sleep and pain.

“You enjoy it, though. You always laugh, I know it’s pointless and that you’re just stubborn as all hell and I’m willing to put up with it,” you push the few strands of hair away from his face and sigh, “guess there’s a reason why you always ask for me.”

A few hours pass, the night creeping in slowly amongst the storm that roared outside.

You glance at his hand after a thorough check-up and redressing his wound for good measure, still resting palm-up where you’d placed it. Hesitant, your fingers slip into his, lacing slowly. 

You wait. No squeeze. 

But, the warmth is enough.

Then, a shift.

A low grunt, almost imperceptible.

Your breath catches. You look up sharply, eyes scanning his face. One eye twitches. His brow furrows just slightly.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but his mouth moves.

“Ellie?” he asks weakly, squeezing your hand back.

Tears burn your eyes before you can stop them, relief flooding your chest in waves.

You squeeze his hand back again. Tight. “She’s okay—she’s good,” you whisper quickly, wiping your cheek with your sleeve, not that it helps.

Joel breathes out, like the tension’s finally releasing from somewhere deep inside his chest. 

You watch the slow rise and fall of him for a moment, just taking it in. Life.

Then his eyes crack open, albeit one is swollen, but hazy and bloodshot and focused on you.

His brows twitch as he looks at you.

“You cryin’?” he rasps, voice rough but teasing.

Even now, he teases you.

“You worried the hell out of me,” you tell him.

“Did I?” Joel asks genuinely, “M’sorry, darlin’.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Joel grimaces and makes a soft noise, “S’all touch and go, right now. I’m really tired, that normal?”

“I gave you some painkillers,” you explain, “probably why.”

Joel looks around gingerly, noting the mess with an amused expression.

“Cleaned up real nice for me, didn’t you?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” you mutter dryly, shifting to adjust the blanket over him. “Next time, I’ll set up some mood lighting and put some music on for you.”

Joel groans low in his throat, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Nah. You singin’ for me would be good enough.”

You snort softly, “I don’t sing.”

“Shame,” he murmurs, barely audible, his eyes slipping closed again. “Bet it’d be real pretty, you got a pretty voice, know you’d sing pretty too.”

Your chest squeezes, caught somewhere between a laugh and a breath you can’t quite take.

“You’re losing it, old man.”

Joel smiles weakly.

“Maybe.”

A long pause and he speaks even soften.

“Still think you got a nice voice, though.”

–

You stay beside him. Even after he dozes back off, you don’t move—not far. Never quite letting go of his hand either. Just shift the stool closer and brace your elbow on the edge of the bed, chin tucked in your other hand. 

The storm outside has softened, now more wind than snow, rattling the windows with every gust.

You don’t realize you’ve nodded off until something shifts. A sound—low, grumbly.

“…you snore a little,” Joel rasps.

You straighten quickly and shake your head, blinking through a sleep haze as you answer him defiantly, “I do not, Miller.”

“Oh—you do, sweetheart,” Joel challenges, a subtle smirk playing at his face, staring at you through his swollen eye.

“Good to know you never stop being insufferable,” you tease him.

“Just like seein’ you laugh,” Joel admits before a silence grows, a look of subtle concern crossing his face, “How bad was it? The horde?”

“We’ve dealt with stuff like that before, maybe not at that level but it isn’t something we’re not prepared for. A couple didn’t make it, got bitten defending the watchtower—Jackson can always rebuild, we mourn, move on, you know? With you, s’different,”

Joel, for once, doesn’t know how to respond.

You see it then—that quiet, careful look he sometimes gives you when he thinks you're not watching. Like he’s cataloguing you. Not in some grand, poetic way. More like he’s memorizing how you look when you're safe. When he needs the reminder of it.

You’re too tired to do anything but meet it.

“I ain't goin' anywhere,” he says finally, voice rough but firm, “You can stop lookin’ at me like I’m about to flatline.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Joel smirks faintly. “You’ve been holdin’ my hand for a while,”

“Oh,” it started to feel like an extension of you, his touch, but you slowly attempted to retract.

“Don’t,” Joel tells you, gripping your hand tighter, shifting his head against the makeshift pillow underneath his head that you had made out of his jacket halfway through the night.

“Thanks for not givin’ up on me,” Joel says gently,

You glance over, unsure how to respond at first.

“You really think I would?”

“Dunno,” he says, voice low, “don’t really think I deserve the effort anymore from anyone…”

He trails off, but it hangs between you anyway. 

The way he says it—soft, raw—like the words snuck out before he could stop it.

You lean in slightly, brushing your thumb just once over the back of his hand.

“I’m not anyone, Joel.”

Joel looks at you again, his expression shifting.

His fingers curl around yours again. Warmer this time. Intentional.

“Five years I’ve known you—I’ve patched your ass up more times than I can count. I’ve had dinners with you, beers with you and your brother. This isn’t my attempt at gaining some good karma. I care about you just as much as the rest of this town.”

“You’re too good to me,” Joel says quietly.

–

Jackson rebuilds, but it takes time.

Eventually, you find out that the assailants were after Joel—but Jesse and Ellie had shown up at a crucial point in the ambush that saved Joel and Dina’s life, despite his extensive injuries.

And Joel, stubborn as he was, began to heal.

The first few weeks are slow, mostly bed-ridden - or office-ridden, leg propped up at his desk as he and Tommy planned out the rebuild process and you rounded your daily office visit to him for assurance that he was taking the antibiotics you had given him and checking on his wound.

It takes a few months, but he does get on his feet again.

He’s resilient, you’ll give him that. An injury that would take no less than six to eight months before the healing was done and Joel was already moving, though with some noticeable pain.

You spot him halfway down the main road on the first name where Jackson was finally starting to feel normal again, walking out of the Tipsy Bison with a pronounced limp.

You sigh to yourself, shifting the object under your arm and start down the road.

“Joel Miller.”

He doesn’t stop walking, but he flinches a little. 

He’s been avoiding you for a couple weeks now, knowing how insistent you had been about him using something to support his leg, just to give it a break once in a while.

“I will chase you down.”

He stops.

You close the distance, holding up the object in your hand.

“If you don’t use this, I’m following you everywhere, barring you from walking, and pushing you around in a wheelchair.”

He eyes the cane. Then your face. Then the cane again.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“It’s exactly what you think it is.”

He scowls. “I’m not usin’ a damn cane.”

“You’re still healing,” you tell him, “and if you care about my worries—you’ll use it.”

“That’s low,” Joel counters,

You had spent a week sanding down the cane to a smooth texture, rounding out the handle to something comfortable to grip, even polished it up. It was extravagant or crazy, but it was clearly made with love.

“Did you make it?” Joel asks curiously.

“Doesn’t matter,” You shrug.

Joel smirks at that. 

You had. He knows it.

He takes it wordlessly, wrapping his fingers around the handle and planting it into the ground.

He tests it out wordlessly, leaning his weight into it and only slightly annoyed at how it eases the weight on his injured leg, looking up at you sheepishly.

“So….should I say it now or?”

“Zip it,” Joel retorts with a faint playfulness, “it…helps, s’real nice of you, you know?”

You raise your brow. “You sayin’ I was right? Knowing you needed it?”

“Don’t push it.” Joel warns

“Say it.” you tease with a flirtatious smile that doesn’t go amiss.

Joel sighs, scratching at his jaw. “You were… not completely wrong.”

You beam, and he rolls his eyes, though the edge of his mouth quirks up.

After a beat, he taps the cane gently against the side of your boot.

“Walk with me?” he asks.

He didn’t even need to ask.

–

There wasn’t any indication of where you were walking to, but naturally you drift to your shared street, homes sitting on opposite sides of the street, but near enough that you were only a short walk away.

The cane clicks softly against the dirt road like a steady metronome to the quiet shuffle of your boots. His limp is pronounced, but less severe than it was a few weeks ago.

The streets are quieter these days. Jackson feels like it's exhaling after holding in a long overdue breath.

Joel walks with his shoulder close to yours. Not touching, but close enough that it would only take a shift. He’s never been one for words, not when the moment matters most—but his silence is full of meaning.

Or, maybe he is just savoring the peace.

“You really made this?” he asks again after a few paces, like he needs to be sure.

You nod shyly, hands shoving into your coat pockets.

He’s quiet for a while, but then, “It’s real thoughtful of you.”

“I was gonna carve your name into it, actually,” you joke, nudging him gently with your elbow, “but Tommy said that was a bad idea.”

Joel chuckles low under his breath. “He’d be right.”

Through your sudden shared laughter, your knuckles brush.

It’s nothing, but it feels like so much.

As you approach your houses, Joel turns to you.

“Do you need anything?” you ask him gently. “I can stop by later if you need some pain meds or anything? Or yell at you for not resting up at home like you should.”

Joel huffs, shaking his head. “Always lookin’ for a reason to yell at me, huh?”

“Only ‘cause you keep givin’ me so many,” you tease.

He looks at you for a long moment, eyes scanning your face in the too quiet dark.

“You stayed the whole night,” he says finally, like he’s been holding it in for a while.

“I told Tommy I wouldn’t leave until you woke up.”

Joel nods once. He shifts his weight on the cane, hesitating just slightly, before adding, “I heard you—talkin’ to me.”

“You did?” you ask, your voice quiet. “Well, that’s…embarrassing.”

Joel’s gaze drops to your hand lingering close to his—he hadn’t even realized he’d reached out until it was too late, his hand dwarfing your own in a gentle hold of your fingertips. 

It’s a small touch, but it grounds him.

You flinch slightly at the touch, feeling the heaviness of the moment

“You can let go,” he says, looking back up at you.

You smile faintly. “I don’t want to.”

Joel hums thoughtfully. “Seems I don’t want to either,”

And in that soft hum between houses, under the stars beginning to peek through the roaming clouds overhead, Joel leans in, his cane shifting a few inches behind you as he leans his weight into it to reach you, his lips pressing against yours in a quiet, tender moment of vulnerability under the dim street lights.

“Never got to thank you properly,” Joel admits.

“Is that your way of saying thank you?” you ask curiously.

“Can be,” Joel responds mischievously, a smirk tugging at his lips as you pull back to look at him.

“I think you can do better,” you challenge him, nose brushing against his own.

“You’re damn right,” he agrees, using his free hand to curve around the back of your neck as he pulls you in, stealing your breath away with the second press of his lips.

When he parts, you can’t help but giggle against him, an indescribable feeling tightening your chest.

“Yeah…that’s—” You breath stutters as you nod, “that’ll do.”

Joel chuckles softly, his thumb grazing your cheek.

“Good, ‘cause I got a lot of thankin’ to make up for.”

Kaz Brekker and Mutual Ma$terba$tion.

Be My Hands: Kaz Brekker x Reader *#~

18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!

If you’re tagged it’s simply because I copied the tag list for Kaz.

Obviously I can’t control your actions but if you’re not 18+ do not interact with this post or Tumblr can get me in trouble!

(If you’d like to not be tagged in future smutty/spicy Kaz fics, please let me know!)

Description: 3.6k wc, smut/spicy fic with Kaz. Cannon Kaz, still has a touch aversion but finds himself and his girlfriend needing release so they compromise by verbally guiding the other while they be each other’s hands. (Kaz style aftercare featured)

Warnings: sexual content, mentions of touch aversions (anxiety & related notes), 18+ Only, cursing

Minors DNI, 18+ Only below the break; sexual content present

Kaz crumpled yet another piece of paper and tossed it to the side, still unable to collect his thoughts.

The heist went sideways hours ago and he hadn’t been able to figure out why or how he should’ve been able to prevent it.

It had never taken him this long before, he was usually done within a few minutes and spent the rest of the night sulking.

Meaning it really shouldn’t take him long tonight since it was only a minor deviation and not much of a set back.

He should’ve been able to figure this out hours ago.

However, y/n had never not been in his office after a night like this.

Kaz sensed things were tense between them lately but since he didn’t know why he elected to let it blow over.

As he sat alone in his messy office tonight, he regretted that decision.

Clearly that was another plan he made that failed.

Begrudgingly he rose from his desk, bracing himself on his cane as he walked to the door.

If she wasn’t coming to him, he’d go to her.

Kaz lingered outside her door as his mind raced to find the best way to greet her.

She was already mad, but he didn’t know why and therefore which side of him would be most helpful here.

If he let Kaz Rietveld greet her and she’d been mad about one of his triggers or weaknesses that would make it worse.

Not that y/n ever got upset let alone mad over that, but Kaz anxiously awaited the day he felt was inevitable.

If he let Dirtyhands Brekker greet her and she was mad he’d been too distant or mundane it would surely piss her off more.

He sighed, annoyed at himself for even allowing himself to get so attached to her that he cared about these things.

Kaz tapped his cane against her door twice and awaited a response.

He heard some shuffling around before y/n opened the door for him.

Her hair was a bit disheveled from seemingly running her hands through it, but it was clear she’d tried to fix it before opening the door.

“Love,” he greeted briefly, the versions of himself compromising.

She smiled nervously at him which made him sigh.

“May I?” He asked, tipping the crow’s head end of his cane in the direction of her bedroom chambers.

A room in which she rarely ever was, having usually been sleeping in his room while he worked.

Kaz watched her throat tighten as she swallowed before nodding.

He took inventory of her room, the way he would any room he’d stepped into where he felt unsure of his surroundings.

He’d been in here before but tonight he was unsure where he stood with her and hoped the room would provide him some clues.

Y/n’s bedding was wrinkled and the poorly made bed was evidence she’d futilely tried tucking the sheets back into place before letting him in.

Kaz tightened his grip on the crow’s head, despising himself for whatever he did that prompted her to chose to sleep here instead.

Sure it was her room, but he couldn’t recall the last time she’d actually slept in it.

“Kaz…” she mumbled, standing a solid distance away, “you look like you have something on your mind”.

Kaz pressed his lips into a tight line as he turned to face her, but was unable to look into her eyes and ask his question, “are you mad at me?”.

Her silence caused him to turn his gaze upwards from the floor and to her face.

He watched the shocked look on her face turn to confusion before she shook her head, “No Kaz. I’m not mad at you”.

“Y/n, do not lie to me” he grumbled.

“I’m not” she sighed.

He stared at her and took a step closer to her, noticing how her body tensed when he did, “you’ve been distancing yourself from me. Yet, you claim you are not mad?”

Y/n quickly looked to the far wall as if one of her pinned up photos was suddenly more interesting than this conversation.

Yet, in a whispered voice she still spoke, “I’m not mad, Kaz”.

Kaz squinted, taking a step back to create more distance for her, “are you afraid of me then?”

She snapped her head towards him, a concoction of confusion, shock, anger, and guilt storming her face, “of course not!”

“Then tell me” he ordered, closing his eyes for half a second to compose himself, “if you’re not suddenly scared of me, tell me why you are distancing from me if you’re not mad”.

“I…I’m… not mad… I umm.. I’m..” she mumbled, biting her lip.

Kaz gave her a concerned look and took a cautious step towards her again, continuing when she didn’t look away.

“You’re not mad, but you are… what?” He asked calmly, a foot from her now.

“Frustrated” she whispered.

“What?” He repeated, not sure he heard her correctly.

“Frustrated!” She blurts loudly, looking away and pulling in her hair, “I’m frustrated, Kaz”.

“Frustrated is synonymous to mad, love” Kaz sighed harshly.

“Not that way” she said, shifting her gaze around rapidly.

“I don’t und-“ he stopped, realization hitting him.

He’d read the signs wrong.

Her hair wasn’t a mess due to running her hands through it out of anger.

His eyes shifted to her bed.

The bedsheets weren’t wrinkled and a mess because she’d been sleeping in them.

“Were you just touching yourself?” Kaz asked, the tension in the room thickening.

He noticed she refused to look at him, so he gently tapped her toe with the bottom of his cane.

She still didn’t look at him but nodded minimally.

Kaz felt his face heat up and an uncomfortable feeling form in his body at her confession.

Well, it wasn’t the feeling that was uncomfortable, it was the knowledge he couldn’t act on it.

The knowledge that he’d found himself needing sexual relief on numerous occasions with relation to her and not being able to act on it due to his touch aversion.

He hated that he put her in that same position and also that he couldn’t offer either of them the release they both needed and desired.

The biggest irritation he had with his aversion was that his body still held the capacity for desire and sexual attraction but he couldn’t act on it.

He hated that he wanted more than anything to be able to take her here and now but the thought also made him nauseous.

“Show me” Kaz said faintly, his brain body desperate for a compromise.

“What?” She squeaked, her eyes finally landing on his dark and fully dilated pupils.

“Show me what you like” he repeated, taking a slow step towards her bed.

“Kaz, what?” She asked breathlessly as her eyes widened.

He looked at the ground in guilt, “I cannot give you what you want”.

Y/n began to interrupt but he held his gloved hand up to signal her to stop.

“But, I’d like to see what it is you want” He said, his voice shaking.

He wasn’t sure he could handle this.

Sure she’d be touching herself, not him touching her.

But, he felt he might combust watching her get herself off by doing things to herself he could only dream of doing to her one day.

“Kaz. We don’t have to do this” She offered kindly, sensing his nervousness.

“I want to. I want to watch. Touch yourself for me. Be my hands” Kaz declared, his pants already feeling tighter as he admitted this desire.

Y/n took a shaky breath but nodded and made her way to the bed, unceremoniously crawling onto it.

She wasn’t opposed to it, but she knew intimacy was intense for Kaz and she didn’t want to push.

Y/n bit her lip as Kaz moved to stand beside her bed, as close as he’d allow himself to be.

“Kaz, I know this is really vulnerable for you, so we can take this as slow as you need and stop whenever. You’re in control here, okay?” She promised, staring into his eyes.

Kaz’s eyes softened for a moment -as he offered her a small smile and nodded-, before they shifted back to their dark state with a recently displayed lust tinting them.

He’d seen her naked before, having changed in front of him countless times at this stage in their relationship, but this was different; for both of them.

She felt her heart quicken, her hands trembling with nerves as she shyly started to lower her pants once again.

“Love, don’t be nervous, if you need, I’ll guide you through it. Just be my hands” Kaz heard himself state, surprising them both.

Y/n took a deep breath of air and nodded rapidly.

Kaz smirked, his eyes closing lustfully as he let them both catch their breath before beginning.

When he opened them, his pupils dilated again seeing she’d stripped out of her pants and panties, her lower half now fully exposed to him.

“Fuck” he breathed out, letting a rare curse slip.

She blushed but kept her eyes on his with a small smile on her lips.

“Shirt” he said, clarifying when his request was met with confusion, “your top too”.

Y/n smirked at him as she slowly removed her shirt to display her bare breasts before him, practically making him hard right away.

He swallowed thickly, adjusting his stance awkwardly, “you are perfect”.

Kaz learned long ago she loved him complimenting her and while he’d let that vulnerable side of him out more often since that discovery, this was new.

He’d reassured her how beautiful she was the first time he’d seen her naked body, needing to help her patch up a cut on her rib and thigh after a heist.

But this, this time, she was laying here before him, not because she was hurt or getting ready for bed.

Instead, she was all but presenting herself to him; a vulnerable and important moment for them both.

Kaz stared into her eyes, making sure she was comfortable with what they were about to do.

When he felt confident she was, he shut his eyes and softly said, “show me what you were doing”.

She nodded, looking down at her waist, her hand moving towards her center.

Y/n gazed off into space as she slowly ran her pointer finger down her pubic mound towards her lips.

Kaz eyes fixed on her finger, wanting so badly for it to be his own touching her that way.

He took a shaky breath at the thought of his son on her’s making her immediately stop and stare at him with concern.

He shook his head to calm her worries, “Don’t stop. Just, talk to me during it”.

She nodded, remembering how he’d cling to the sound of her voice when anxious.

“So,” she said with a breathy shyness, “ when I find myself needing a release, I start with this”.

Kaz focused on her voice and explanation while his eyes studied her demonstration and instructions with such intensity it was as if her pleasure were a heist he must successfully complete.

After a few minutes Kaz had become more comfortable and realized the bulge in his pants was already a step ahead of him.

He blindly reached for her desk chair, knowing he should sit.

But he couldn’t find it without looking away from her, and he wasn’t able to do that.

Kaz stared as her thighs clenched together, firmly trapping her hand between them.

"Spread your legs. I want to see how turned on I make you” he said, looking from her seized legs to her dazed eyes.

Her lips parted slightly as she complied, her hand now being the only thing blocking his view of her full anatomy.

“More” he said, his deep voice betraying his pleading, as did his gloved hand faintly placed on her closest knee.

“I love hearing you moan” Kaz blurted, pressing his hand firmly against his throbbing shaft through his pants.

She looks at him through hooded eyes, the fingers on her left hand still inserted into herself.

“Curl your finger” Kaz advised, an idea forming in his mind.

Y/n smirked lazily at his newly formed scheming face as she followed his suggestion.

“No, no, your ring finger” he corrected, his piercing eyes that were frozen on her swollen and flushed bare skin around her vulva, unsatisfied with the choice she made.

“Oh saints!” She cried out, her head slamming back into her bed aggressively.

Kaz felt his dick twitch as he proudly relished in her loud moans and watched her hips lift off the bedsheets.

“Mmm, that’s it, good girl” Kaz said, his voice dark.

Y/N’s eyes flitted closed as she twirled her hooked finger around inside of her walls, trying to not be so loud as she didn’t want to risk the others hearing.

“Mmm, come on darling” he whined, “let me hear you.” 

She stirred slightly before pushing her fingers in deeper, moaning pleasurably as her vaginal opening stretched even more.

“That’s it” he grinned, his sight clouding a bit as he unconsciously began stroking his length through his dress pants, “I want to hear you say my name”.

Y/n needed a moment, so she slowly pulled her now soaking wet fingers from her vagina and rested her hand on her stomach, smirking at him.

“You what?” She teased, pretending she couldn’t hear his request.

His vision cleared as he lightly glared at her, “you heard me”.

She hummed, dancing her fingers tauntingly over her exposed skin from her neck down to her hips, “I don’t know that I did… Kaz”.

Kaz’s head snapped to the side quickly, his hand reaching out and pulling the desk chair to him.

He sat down just as his knees threatened to buckle from the tension between his legs and the sight of y/n sprawled teasingly before him.

Kaz knew he wasn’t going to win this, especially in his current state, so he repeated himself, “I need to hear you say my name”.

She smirked at him, “Kaz”.

He threw his head back in frustration with so much force he was surprised the chair didn’t break under him, “you know what I mean”.

Y/n loved seeing him like this, over her.

So she decided to drag it out a bit more, smiling innocently as she asked, “no, can you elaborate what it is you need me to do, Kaz?”.

Kaz clenched his jaw, returning his head to its normal position and watching the devilish glimmer in her eyes, “don’t push it, you’re the one who needed this. I can leave any moment”.

Y/n saw through his bluff, tilting her head sideways as she pushed her self up until her arms were supporting her back and half raised position.

“Kaz, honey, you can pretend all you want” she winks, bringing her still wet fingers up to her face and tracing the outline of her lips, “but I can see the mess you're making of yourself”.

He froze in confusion, following her gaze as she stared at his lap.

Kaz felt his cheeks double in temperature as he saw he’d practically ruined his dress pants.

The material now wet and clinging to him.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

“It’s okay Kaz, but I don’t think you’re quite done” she whispered sweetly, “why don’t I help you?”

Kaz stared up at her, his eyes soft but jaw tense, “I-… I can’t… yet.. I-“.

She shook her head, “I’m not going to touch you honey, I promise”.

He nodded appreciatively.

“You wanted me to moan your name?” She asked delicately.

He forced a weak glare making her laugh softly, “I can do that. But first, remove your pants”.

Kaz hesitated for a moment before standing enough to lower them to the floor.

“Now your underwear, the poor things are very clearly in both of our ways” she added, Kaz sighing tranquilly as he pushed the hem of his underwear towards the ground and let his penis fly upwards when it was free.

“Now, cup one hand around yourself, from underneath” y/n said, her gaze never leaving his erection.

Kaz obeyed, shivering as his cold leather glove wrapped around his length.

Y/n moaned lightly, Kaz’s eyes jumping to watch as her fingers walked down her bare body to her clit.

“With the other, rub the tip” she whispered seductively.

Kaz didn’t hesitate to do so and mirrored her moans with his own as he did.

“Look at me” Kaz rasped as her gaze has shifted to her waist.

“Oh, fu-“ y/n sighed, the knot in her stomach growing.

Kaz clenched his jaw more tightly as he continued masterbating as she had requested, but secretly trying not to climax yet.

He was fairly certain the leather in his gloves was going to cause his shaft to be raw by the end of the night but he couldn’t care less.

“Cum for me” he ordered sharply, not sure how much longer he could resist his release.

Y/n sensed his predicament and puckered her lips to blow him a kiss, “just let go Kaz”.

Kaz shook his head, but as she resumed circling her clit he found his resistance weaning.

“More pressure” he advised her, having made mental note of what seemed to work best for her earlier in the night.

“Ka-Kaz,” she moaned, her eye lids fluttering as she pushed her thumb harder against her clitoris.

At that, Kaz’s self preservation disintegrated in an instant.

“Oh” he moaned, his voice breathy, “fuck”.

He threw his head back, his neck bending as the back of his head rested between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t stop doing what I taught you. You’re being my hands, remember? Keep moving” She ordered, a smirk painting her tone.

“Y-y/n” Kaz shakingly mumbled, his eyes glazed over, “fuck, you’re… fuck”.

Kaz was certain it was the least intelligible thing he’d ever spoken but the bliss he felt kept him from caring.

He wiped the white cream from himself and the bedspread next to her, too relaxed to be embarrassed over the mess he made and how vulnerable he was.

“Shit, Kaz” she groaned, her lips curling at the ends as she watched him.

“Cum for me” he repeated his earlier request.

Y/n chuckled softly, tiredly bringing her hand back down to her wet lips.

“Kaz” she moaned softly, her eyes glimmering as she held eye contact with him.

Kaz smiled faintly, lifting his cane.

He delicately tapped the side of the crow’s beak to y/n’s swollen clitoris twice before lowering his cane back to the floor.

She shivered at the cold sensation before her eyes darkened as she looked back over at him.

He nodded with a smirk on his lips, “keep your eyes open and on me”.

Y/n silently obeyed, her fingers picking up their pace.

Kaz’s smirk grew as he watched her desire increase.

He intentionally ran a hand through his hair, having been clued in that it was a turn on for her.

She grinned and shook her head weakly, letting him know she knew what he was doing.

Triggering another turn on, Kaz held eye contact with her as he smirked more before licking his lip, “so unfathomably irresistible”.

Kaz lips shifted into a cocky grin as she loudly whimpered his name, her back arching towards the ceiling and legs trembling.

“That’s it darling, just keep being my hands” he encouraged, watching as she softly stroked herself as she rode out her orgasm.

“While I must point out that we could have started this much earlier had you not hid, I do prefer the location” Kaz stated, handing her a towel from her dresser.

“Oh?” She asked, her voice still faint from her climax.

“It means I don’t need to clean my sheets” he smirked teasingly.

She scoffed, feigning offense.

“Hmm, well, I suppose we’ll see if the door will be unlocked next time or not” she teased, delicately cleaning herself up.

Kaz squinted at her as he pulled his trousers back up.

“Fine, I can begin washing my sheets” he complied.

“You haven’t been washing them?!” She gasped, wanting to smack his shoulder.

Kaz chuckled, a laugh he’d only allow the person currently before him to ever hear, “Of course I’ve cleaned them; you sweat in your sleep”.

Y/n’s jaw dropped as she stared at him in shock, somehow mortified over the idea of her sleep sweating in his bed, despite what just happened in here between them.

Kaz laughed loudly, his dimples showing as he shook his head, “darling, it was a joke. You’re perfect”.

Y/n placed the towel on the other side of her, turning to face Kaz as she tugged on her blanket.

He smiled tenderly at her - another behavior only she’d witness- before standing to help pull her blanket over her body the way she wanted.

His gloved hands were sure to never touch her skin during the act.

But, as he set the fabric over her bare chest, he sucked in a deep breath before he slid his gloved fingers under her arm to tuck in the blanket.

He’d touched her skin more directly than that by now, but after the intensity of the moment immediately prior, he didn’t want to risk ruining the intimate moment they shared by taking a chance.

She smiled up at him, her body relaxed and eyes heavy.

Kaz nodded as he sat back down in his chair.

“Kaz” She whispered, waiting until he nodded again for her to continue.

“Do I swear in my sleep?” She asked, making him laugh again.

He rolled his eyes, “I honestly would not know. It’s my obsessive need to stick to a routine that prompts me to wash our sheets, not you “.

Her shoulders lowered as she nodded happily, “okay. So your room next time?”.

Kaz smirked, resting his gloved palm a few centimeters from her arm, “as long as you’ll continue to be my hands for now, we can do whichever room”.

“If you’ll be my hands taking care of you, I’ll be yours” y/n promised, grinning tiredly at him.

Kaz nodded in agreement, “the deal is the deal. Now, rest”.

Y/n grinned at him once more before letting her eyes close, peacefully falling asleep. 

Kaz Brekker Navigation/Masterlist

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@directioner5life @ell0ra-br3kk3r @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r ( @chewiethecatus for this one only as it was for your request)

“Stop wiggling around, I’m trying to sleep! Wait… what’s tha… oh!”

Forced proximity with best friend Bob?

A chance to do friends to lovers with Bob? Say no more!

"Remind me to never let Javy book the Air B&B again."

Bob chuckled at your comment, despite agreeing, "Well at least we have an actual bed. Reuben and Mickey have bunk beds."

"So all the single people have to suffer?" You scoffed, continuing to shuffle through your luggage.

The annual lake trip was going well, until the room arrangements were revealed. It wasn't that you minded sharing a room with Bob.

It was the lack of a second bed.

Twenty years ago, when you were both eight, this wouldn't have been a problem. But then puberty, high school, and base camp occurred, which brought to light the crush you had been harboring on your best friend.

"We'll make it work. And if it's that bad, I can take the floor," he offered, always the considerate one. It was one of the many traits you adored about Bob.

"Robert James Floyd, absolutely not!" You scolded, eliciting a chuckle out of him. It was deep and low, just like his voice and you didn't want to admit how it made your knees nearly shake.

"I've slept in barracks before, it's the same thing."

The comment would have gotten a laugh out of you. In fact, you would have even made a remark back, probably about how you've also slept in truck beds and underneath a wide open sky.

But then Bob Floyd took his shirt off.

It wasn't even your first time seeing him shirtless, far from it. But now he had filled out, with muscle and a dusting of hair that trailed down from his chest, past his stomach.

God, was he always this hot? Had to be and somehow you just didn't notice it until later. Perhaps that was the worst part; you fell for him because of who he was. It wasn't as if he had some type of glowup over summer break, like you'd see so often in those stupid teen movies you'd watch to feel better about yourself. No, Bob Floyd was always a beautiful soul, inside and out.

And he wasn't yours. Couldn't be. The risk of him not reciprocating was too high. Plus, your family was friends with his'. That meant Thanksgiving, Christmas, Fourth of July, hell, even fucking Memorial Day gatherings would be tainted. All thanks to you.

The pressure was too high, the risk was too great.

But you could look, right?

"Sunshine?"

Bob's childhood now turned adult nickname for you broke the spell. Your wide eyes met his oceanic's. His hair, which had gotten darker over the years and now had threads of early greys, was mussed from taking off his shirt, some curls over the front of his forehead, others to the side. White shirt in hand, highlighting how massive they were when clutching the alabaster fabric. Brow's knitted together, combined with his narrow eyes and titled head created a downright adorable look of confusion.

"You,,,," he briefly turned around, to see if there was something on the wall behind him and that's why you wouldn't look at him, "You okay?"

You nodded eagerly, probably too eagerly, "Yeah sorry....I uh spaced out. Probably thinking of ways to get back at Javy."

Bob smiled, despite it never reaching his eyes when he nodded. You had turned around so quickly, unable to make such an observation.

"I'm going to go take a shower," grabbing the top and bottom you could find the quickest in your suitcase. You avoided eye contact with him, too busy feeling shame for getting caught doing something so lewd.

Rushing, you turned the water on in the showers. Focusing on ensuring you grabbed the correct products. Get the water to the perfect temperature and pressure, it exists, it has to exist because if it doesn't then you'll think about the dark body hair that went past the waistband of his jeans.

For about twenty minutes, it worked. You did your skincare routine, brushed your teeth for nearly two minutes, even blow dried your hair. Applied a lip mask, that stupid lash and brow serum the worker at Sephora conned you into buying. Moisturize every inch of your body, even though it was the dead of summer and you would sweat it all off before sunrise. That stupid reusable eye mask that you got because it was on clearance. Have you done the Wordle today, you should do the Wordle. You should do anything other than thinking about sharing a bed with your shirtless best friend.

It worked. Even put on some music, not too loud, just enough to hear and hum along.

It worked. For a while. But then you had used nearly every product in your cosmetics bag and it was time to get dressed.

Fuck.

You could never match a pair of socks, not even if your life depended on it. But tonight, fucking tonight of all nights, you had to grab a whole matching set.

The pale pink lace trimmed cami, paired with joggers. An oversized T-shirt that went further down than the pair of matching satin shorts.

You had brought the set when you were talking to a guy and thought you would be able to move on from the wonder that is Bob Floyd. What a fucking joke.

Maybe you could wear them, run back out to grab something else and run back in to change. No, why would anyone do that? If anything, it'll just make it more obvious that you didn't want to wear it in front of him. But what if you didn't change and Bob thought you had worn essentially casual lingerie on purpose? What if he found that weird? What if-

"You okay in there Sunny?" His voice always calmed you, always able to break you out of whatever self inflicted spiral you were on.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded despite Bob being unable to see you, "Yeah, I'm good. Just developed a more extensive skincare routine."

A short burst of laughter was released on the other side of the door, "You don't need all that. Already pretty."

"Bob Floyd, you are....." Charming. Amazing. Too good to be true. The love of my life,

"....too kind."

"Just telling the truth," his feet audibly stepped away. The butterflies in your chest were still exploding from his words. He made you feel safe, that this was Bob you were talking about. He'd never think you'd do something lewd or negative on purpose. Bob knew your intentions to be good. After all, he was your Bobby.

Just not in the way you want.

Your head cleared long enough to walk out the door, into the well lit bedroom. When he first made eye contact with you, you didn't even falter, simply smiling at him.

But Bob didn't say anything at first. Usually he'd make a teasing but well meaning comment about you taking so long. His thin pink lips parted, yet no words came through.

"Are you okay Bobby?"

The concern in your voice broke the trance. His features soften, his lips quirking into a half smile, "Yeah, I'm good. Just gonna shower and then head to bed."

Tension had left the room. Flopping down onto the bed, you scrolled through social media, watching all the videos and photos the squad had posted today.

"Uh, Sunshine?" You turned and lost your breath. Bob's hair was freshly washed, ends beginning to curl. A white shirt that was barely translucent and grey sweatpants that hung low on his lithe hips.

Bob Floyd had downright slutty hips.

"I don't think the bed is big enough for both of us to lay down."

Your brow crumpled in confusion, "Javy said this was a queen."

"Javy thinks anything that isn't a single is a Queen." Bob explained, not phased at all by this mistake.

Clearly it wasn't the first time. But you were still going to kill Javy Machado tomorrow morning.

"Here, if we both sleep on our sides, it'll be good."

"Like spooning?"

"Uh yeah," a hand came up to rub the back of his neck, "That's one way to think about it."

You supposed it was better than feeling his ass against yours, "Alright, well....come on in, the water's fine."

It took some time to figure out the arrangement. What was one supposed to do with their other hand? The final agreement consisted of your hips flushed against Bob's, his arm slung over your waist.

Zero awkwardness in the air. It felt....natural.

"Night Bobby."

"Night Sunshine."

Things were looking up. There was no way this would change your friendship or threaten to reveal your well kept secret. Sleep was well within your reach.

Then Bob moved. And kept moving. Due to his closeness, you felt every maneuver, no matter how subtle.

"Floyd, do you mind?"

His movements continued, as if he was trying to avoid your body while somehow simultaneously hang onto it.

A loud huff left your lips, "Stop wiggling around, I'm trying to sleep! Wait, what's that...."

Oh.

Your hips were flushed against his, your ass perfectly fitting the space formed by his thigh meeting his hip. Right against his hardened groin.

The sweatpants were thin. He didn't have anything underneath. Thanks to the flimsy fabric of your shorts, you could feel him greatly.

You were in bed with Bob Floyd. Bob Floyd was in bed with you, rocking an erection. You were being held by Bob Floyd, in bed. Bob Floyd had a huge cock, a grower.

Silence filled the room, tension thick enough to be cut with a butter knife. Neither one wanting to move, for fear of making it worse.

He let out a shaky breath. He developed a rhythm, almost imitating one sleeping.

You shifted, just enough for your thigh to rise, but subtle enough to play off as nothing.

His breath hitched.

Inch by inch, your hips began to gyrate, rubbing against his clothed cock.

"B-Bobby," you were panting, as if having run a marathon. His fingers sank into your hips, gripping the plush flesh as he flipped you onto your back, towering over you.

You moved to sit on your elbows, to raise yourself up to argue. From years of play fighting, he was fast as lightning, pinning your hands above your head.

Bob slowly lowered himself down until his nose brushed against your, his soft hair brushing your forehead.

"Twelve years." Was all he said, gritting through his teeth, squeezing your hands in hopes it would tethered him to Earth.

All that came out of your mouth was a hum of confusion. In the moonlit light, you searched for his eyes, trying to read them.

"Stuart Hendricks asked you to prom. You had been hoping all month he would ask you. Hell, I even helped him. Told him your favorite musical and which song to sing. I was excited for ya. And then you said yes to him and I wanted to punch him. I never had thought about fighting someone until then. Took me a week to realize why I was so angry."

Oh my God.

"Eight to ten years ago," you confessed. It was Bob's turn to knit his eyebrows together.

"Eight to ten?" He repeated, "Why is there a range?"

"I remember feeling....funny when you came back from boot camp. You had filled out a bit and had on those adorable military issued glasses. But it took me some time to accept what I was feeling," you explained.

How you found those glasses endearing was beyond Bob's understanding. But it didn't agitate him, it was just one of the many things he loved about you.

"That's a lot of time lost," his voice was barely a whisper.

You nodded, "Can we.....can we start making up for it?"

"Yes," he nodded, dropping his head lower, "one hundred percent yes."

His lips were like heaven. He molded his body to yours, chests flushed together, limbs tangled within one another. A hand that spanned the entirety of his neck, his thumb guiding your chin upwards so he could deeper explore your mouth.

"Heard you singing....and it just felt....felt like we were living together," he confessed in between kisses, "felt so right, like that's what it's supposed to be like."

Nodding feverishly, your hands found purchase in his thick hair. Tugging on the sun kissed locks, earning a groan from Bob that made your thighs clench.

"Can....can I touch you?" Always the gentlemen, your Bobby.

"As long as you don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it sunshine," his mouth latched onto your neck, leaving open mouth kisses along the side, teeth gently grazing your sensitive skin. A hand grabbed your leg, hitching it to wrap around his waist.

Bob Floyd was fucking heaven.

Make It Fun, Don't Trust Anyone- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

“I can feel it.” He spoke, refusing to meet your eyes as he visibly failed to prevent his thoughts from spilling, “I could sense the metal as soon as we left the building; I could sense your necklace, the rims of your sunglasses, the iron in your blood, and that ring.”  His words turned to venom at the procurement of the final item, you watched as he grit his teeth; smoothing a hand over his head as his jaw clenched. Anger bloomed at the pits of your stomach in response, anger at his audacity to attempt to stake such ownership over you, “You were gone, Erik.” You spat, turning to him, anger blazing in your eyes; as reflected by the shock upon his face, “What? Did you expect me to wait around like a child? Wait for you to come back on the slim chance that it would happen?”

A/N: Hello! If anyone sees this, I hope you enjoy! If not, this is entirely self sufficing and I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. Just to note, sorry if the scenes taken from the movie seem a little..rushed? If there's one thing I do not enjoy it's working out how to incorporate existing scenes into canon compliant fanfiction. The struggle.

Word Count: 6,692 / Read it on AO3!

If you'd like to see more from me about Erik- please feel free to send in any requests! :)

The Cuban sunlight had acted as the perfect antithesis to your situation; the gaping hole that had formed and taken a residual spot within your ribcage as you knelt beside Charles, screaming and crying at the lack of feeling in his legs. 

But your eyes had not been upon him. 

You had stared up at Erik, stomach collapsing at his stoic gaze; only remnants of his grief were prevalent to yourself, the person that had known him most in the world. That wretched helmet had sat upon his head, his eyes empty with the melancholy of his own steadfast determination. 

“Join me.” He had whispered, his lower lip trembling as his eyes finally landed upon you; the first time since you had boarded the plane to Cuba. He had reached out then, his palm splayed towards you; hope swimming in his eyes as he beckoned you forward. 

You had simply shaken your head, lips tight and breaths heaving as you held his gaze. You watched as his heart broke, as his eyes glistened and bloodied hands trembled. You watched as he nodded and as he turned away from you. Turned away from the love that you had shared, choosing his own foolish endeavours of revenge over you. Allowing grief to swallow you, you had ducked your head; unable to watch as he walked away, unable to face Charles, writhing in the pain of your lovers’ actions. 

That had been it- you had returned to the school. Welcoming and accepting prospective students; working as an administrator and overseeing the school’s board. It had been good, amazing- supplying a necessary distraction to the heartbreak you had endured and a chance to improve your powers, learn from the experiences of others. There, in your reluctant state of happiness, you had met Adam. 

Adam, the school’s mutant psychology teacher; specialising in mind-based and largely telekinetic powers. Your curiosity regarding Erik’s powers had led you to him, sitting beside his desk; asking question after question. Questions soon turned into conversations and you soon found yourself being courted. All the traditional romances that had never crossed your mind when with Erik had become your reality; constant flowers, gifts, candle-lit dinners as your heels caressed his leg beneath the table. 

Your family had loved him, adored him. They had never met Erik, for obvious reasons, and whilst they were more supportive of your mutant gene than the average family; they had hoped that you would still be able to live the average life. Meaning, that you would acquire the average husband. Your family had practically demanded that you married him despite only being a year into the relationship, the pointed remarks about you being ‘unwedded at such an age’ a constant force at each gathering. 

So, you had. You had adorned the white dress, the large diamond ring, and Charles had granted his blessings by allowing you to host the wedding on the school’s grounds. Everyone and anyone that could have possibly been there had been in attendance, a day simply to forget about the wrongdoings of the past, the present and the future. 

On paper, everything was perfect. 

“Do you ever think about him?” Charles had asked, the night before your wedding, the two of you nursing a glass of scotch each within his office. 

You had exhaled through your nose, a lodge forming at the base of your throat, “No.” Despite the pronunciation of such a small, singular word; your voice had croaked, your chest trembling pathetically. 

Charles had simply nodded, his eyes flickering; his powers catching your obvious lie. “He’s in prison now, you know?” 

You nodded, humming affirmatively, your gut twisting at the reminder. 

“Are you sure you want to go through with tomorrow?” 

“I do.” You smirked, a failed attempt at humour as Charles had only looked back at you with sympathy, “I can’t sit here and say that Erik is never on my mind but… this is for the best.” 

Charles had only nodded, his face twisting as hair fell before his eyes, “He will never bother us again, I will make sure of that.” 

Whilst you had thanked him, smile wide and eyes crinkling as you both raised a glass; you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach had swooped in disappointment. The way your chest had heaved with unbridled pain, simply at the thought of never seeing Erik again. You would wrestle with it for the years to come- the guilt of constantly thinking of another man as you lay beside your husband. 

Your love with Erik had, to simply put it, been enigmatic; fuelled by passion- both by the mission at hand and the way you felt for each other. There had been awful, screaming fights on the worst days and entangled limbs with scratches lining his spine on the best. You had loved him with every ounce of your being, cared for him, yearned for him when he wasn’t there. Whilst you had endured the worst pains of your life with him, you had also been at your happiest. 

It had been toxic, ferocious, you had never known what would come next. 

You missed it every day. 

You passed the feeling off as pure delusion, your mutant gene playing cruel tricks on your mind as the years passed; as you grew bored. Bored of the same mundane life every day, bored of the simple forehead kisses, bored of that house. You and Adam remained within the dark confines of the manor instead of finding a place of your own following the fallout of the war in Vietnam; acting as support for Charles, who had steadfastly begun to dwindle in both his morality and his health. You had used this as an excuse every time Adam had attempted to introduce the necessary conversation of moving on, settling down. Children. You had deflected his attempts every time, claiming that you needed to be there for Charles, that you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t the right time. 

You knew for a fact that the reality lay within your inability to let Erik go, your inability to potentially miss the opportunity to catch a taste of his mere presence again. As the breadth of time since he left and the distance with Adam widened, you thought of Erik more and more. His serrating blue eyes and wicked charm haunted every moment, both awake and unconscious. You yearned for him, worried for him, hated him. You hated him for giving you up so easily, your lack of support in that specific moment signifying the end of everything, defining the status of the rest of your life. Sometimes, during the darkest of nights, the ones where you felt so alone, the nights where the wind howled and the trees drew vines and branches upon the walls- you imagined what it would have been like to join him, to have clasped his hand against yours and allowed him to lead you into the darkness.

Secretly, you knew that following Magneto would have led to your early demise, sometimes you pondered on whether that could have been a better end to your time together than your reality. 

But then, as Spring turned into Summer; as the grounds of the manour flourished in their unkempt state and the sun cast illuminations through the large windows- Logan arrived at your doorstep. A mission from the future, unbelievable if not for the pure conviction in his eyes. Unbelievable if not for the grief that haunted his strong features. 

You had been completely unprepared when Logan had stood from the chair you had offered him, yourself having been perched on the edge of Charles’ crumpled couch; your legs crossed and hands clasped with worry as he had detailed the horrors he had experienced, the horrors that he was there to prevent. He had paced the length of the table, surveying each resident of the room; you hadn’t missed the way his eyes had flickered between you and Adam; his forehead scrunching before his brows raised in amusement. 

“Ah…he warned me about this.” He grinned, flicking a finger between the two of you and scratching at the base of his head. “Kinda weird to see actually.” 

“Sorry?” You smiled politely, head swarmed with confusion, you looked over at Adam only to see he bore a similar expression, “He?” 

“We need to find Magneto,” Logan spoke determinedly, his gaze fierce, his voice taking a tone of finality. He was serious, conviction overtaking the air as the gravity of the situation dawned upon each resident.  

You knew that he was right. 

In that moment, you had been able to do nothing but stand and promptly leave the room; abandon the sound of Charles’ manic laughter that followed Logan’s words, Hank’s doubt that tended to suffocate a room. But most notably, you were abandoning your so-called husband’s silence.  

Somehow, you found yourself curled beneath your bed covers, arms crossed over your knees like a small child; your form shrunken in your fear and heartbreak and doubt, tremors racking your shoulders. As you attempted to steady your breathing, a knock sounded at your bedroom door. Expecting it to be Adam, you promptly rose from your position; scrubbing furiously at your swollen eyelids. 

But to your shock, Logan entered the room. 

“I’m sorry to barge in like this,” He held his hands out placantingly, slowly approaching you as if you were a timid animal, “I know you don’t know me, but I know you, Y/N, very well and… I wanted to check you were okay.” 

You nodded, crossing your arms and biting your lip as you mulled over the words he had spoken since his arrival, “It’s okay… I just- haven’t heard his name outside of my own head in a while.” 

“Erik?” 

You smiled, your heart blooming at his real name, the name you had known him by, “Yes… I’m assuming you know about us; I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve witnessed one of our messes for yourself,” He had smiled at that, his teeth glinting as he chuffed in amusement, though you could only stare at Logan, building the courage to ask what you desperately wanted to know, “When, you know, you were sent here… was Erik there?” 

“Yes.” Logan nodded. 

“Was I?” 

Logan nodded once again, though opted to do so silently this time. 

“What did he tell you about us?” 

Logan laughed properly then, a smile finally breaking across his face, “He told me not to meddle, that your situation is especially… sensitive, at this point.” He scratched a hand across his chin, his expression filled with nothing but pure mirth as he spoke, “Which I can see, seeing as though he’s locked one hundred feet underground and you’re married.” He finished that with a pointed look at your ring finger. 

You nodded, that you found yourself unable to match his amusement, unsure of exactly what it was he found funny, “I haven’t seen him in almost ten years.” You shrugged, “When I try to think about it, I don’t even know what he looks like anymore.” 

“But you still think about him?” 

You sighed, lowering your gaze to pick at the loose threads upon your old bed sheets; you had always been reluctant to get rid of them, the memories that they held with Erik remained too precious. Slowly and timidly, you spoke, “Every day.” 

Logan could only nod, an exhale sounding from his nose, “Well, if I can trust anything from my time knowing you; it’s your ability to give that man hell.” 

So, the following day; with an overly-energised, overly-excited teenage mutant in tow; Hank, Charles, and Logan had embarked en route for the Pentagon.

“Stay safe.” Adam had spoken as he leaned against the entrance to the house, having opted to stay behind; claiming that the house needed to be watched despite Logan being the first visitor in years. You had simply smiled at him, waving goodbye before turning towards the car; you didn’t miss the way the door had immediately slammed, Adam having chosen to waste no time in ensuring your safe departure. He had been quiet since Logan’s arrival, especially since the mention of Erik’s name and your obvious upset in response. 

You feared that despite his promise to protect the house, he would not be there upon your return. 

“I can’t believe you even married that guy.” Logan had mumbled, chuckling to himself and shaking his head as he slid into the car’s driver's seat; you could only manage a meager glare- your doubt regarding Adam had been clear even to yourself. 

Whilst the others performed the monumental task of attempting to free Erik; you had been tasked with organising the transport from the Pentagon and away, far away. You knew that Charles had orchestrated this purposefully, giving you the chance to see Erik as little as possible if necessary. You had accepted without a fight, you feared that if faced with Erik in a dire situation; you would act impulsively, irrationally. You feared that if faced with Erik, you would be able to do nothing but throw yourself into his arms. 

“Not appropriate.” You had mumbled to yourself at the thought, tapping a hand against the car’s wheel; dark aviators high upon your nose as you awaited. Your other hand hung from the drivers-side window, a dwindling cigarette balancing lazily between your fingers; it had been a nasty habit you had picked up in your adulthood, largely to Adam’s chagrin who had banned you from doing so indoors. You began to recognise that the stress of marriage had aged you significantly; the existence of service had overtaken your life in a way you hadn’t predicted. 

Just as you had begun to dwell upon your own disappointing life decisions; a loud bustle of noise exploded from the doors exiting the building’s kitchen; you only had a second to rescue your cigarette and balance it between your teeth before the group rushed to the car. Peter immediately sped ahead and claimed the passenger seat, grinning at you cheekily as he slid beside you; though this was quickly diminished when Logan slammed the car door back open, promptly gathering the teenager by the lapels of his jacket and ejecting him from the seat. You could only guffaw as he promptly plucked the cigarette from between your teeth, taking a hasty drag as the rest of the group piled into the back. 

You refused to glance at the rear mirror.

“Seriously Y/N?” Charles huffed exasperatedly from what you could assume was the seat directly behind you, the rustling of his jacket prevalent as he attempted to get comfortable in the tight squeeze of seats, “This may be a getaway car but it doesn’t mean you can abuse it to your will with your smoking.” 

You gritted your teeth, slamming your foot upon the pedal and pulling out onto the road; en route to the airport. Erik’s presence behind you plagued your mind, causing your fingers to tighten upon the wheel and your toes to curl within your shoes, every hair upon your neck stood ramrock straight as you waited, yearning for him to acknowledge you. 

This was what you had dreamed of, every night for years, and now you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him. 

A gleam caught your eyes as you drove, suddenly all too aware of your left hand rested on the steering wheel. Your wedding ring still adorned upon your finger, glistening obnoxiously in the afternoon sun. Risking a glance, you rose your eyes to the rearview mirror- only to immediately flick your eyes back to the road before you. 

There, in the middle seat, sat Erik- his cheeks sunken, hollow; the effects of years in confinement were prevalent in his every feature. His skin was pale, almost ghastly; his haircut was shaggy, uncaring. But what shocked you the most, what made you pull your eyes away from the man you loved so suddenly- was the way his eyes, those hauntingly blue eyes, stared straight at you, straight at the ring upon your finger. You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from squeaking in response, the taste of blood plaguing your mouth as you willed yourself to focus on the road, focus on the mission at hand. 

You knew that Logan had witnessed every moment of that encounter, his dark eyes sunk into the side of your face as you determinedly stared forward, refusing to acknowledge any of the people around you. Alongside the stench of smoke, the air in the car was thick with tension- the aura of unspoken words choking every passenger. Even Peter, the usual chatterbox and the one who had spoken your ears off the entire way to the Pentagon had opted to stay silent; instead staring out of the window, his lips twisted in his own display of tension. 

As you drove in silence, you became all too aware of Erik’s presence; you found yourself pinpointing his specific breaths, the crinkle of his prisoner-assigned uniform, the shuffle of his legs against the side of your seat, the nervous tap of his finger against his knuckles. 

It was a miracle you managed to reach the airport. 

Upon saying goodbye to Peter, you determinedly pushed past the front-row seats of the private jet, opting to sit at the very rear of the plane alongside Logan, of which had simply raised an eyebrow and sighed as you lowered yourself before him, “You two are more pathetic than I expected.” He exhibited an air of nonchalance as he lit his cigar, despite the plane now very much being in the sky, and propped open a newspaper upon his lap- though it was prevalent that he found delight in watching the entire situation unfold. 

You raised your eyebrows, shrugging your shoulders stubbornly and sliding back against the base of the chair, “There’s no ‘us two’,” To which you complimented with the use of air quotes, “I am married, Logan.” 

Logan could only laugh at that, shaking his head, a habit he seemed to have picked up in his exasperation at what was unfolding before him, “You do realise I’m from the future right?” 

Scowling, you crossed your arms and opted to sulk at the back of the plane; still determinedly refusing to look Erik’s way- who was now engaging in a heated argument with Charles.

“Do I at least age well?” 

“Of course,” Logan smirked, holding his cigar up in a toast; though he was quickly interrupted by the creaking of metal as the foundations of the plane shook; Erik. Logan jumped forward and immediately threw the two of you to the ground- acting as a human shield as the plane began to tip sideways; Erik’s passion overtaking all rational thought as plates and glassware shattered beside you. 

“You abandoned us all.” He spoke with finality, Charles lay splayed across multiple seats, his hair a tangled mess as he gaped at Erik. You could only pull yourself back into your seat as Charles left for the cockpit, both you and Logan gasping at each other as you attempted to regain your stolen breath.

“So,” Logan grunted, fetching a new cigar and lighting it, “You were always an asshole then.” 

You could only scoff as Erik turned, facing you for the first time since boarding the plane; you noted the way his eyes landed upon anything, anywhere but you. 

“I bet we’re best buds in the future,” Erik smirked sardonically, his voice rough with the sudden severity of his outburst. 

Logan hummed, puffing on his cigar before offering you a puff, to which you politely declined, “Not like me and your old friend Y/N here are.” 

At the mention of your name, his hands spasmed at his sides; his fingers convulsing in a bodily reaction at the mere recognition of your existence. You would have felt excitement, love; if it weren’t for the way his eyes told a different story- cold and piercing as they landed upon you, his cheekbones twitching as he allowed himself a second of eye contact before he abruptly turned, returning to his seat across the plane. 

“Jesus,” Logan mumbled to himself, reclining in his seat and widening his eyes at you; you could only nod. Jesus.

With Erik and Charles opting to keep to themselves, the rest of the journey went swimmingly- immediately upon landing you wasted no time in departing from the suffocating air of the cabin; luxuriating in the deep breaths of fresh, evening air that greeted you. 

“We need to find somewhere to rest.” Charles spoke from behind you, “The drive to the next spot is too long and we’re all exhausted.” He glared pointedly at Erik then, who simply sighed; as you allowed yourself a glance at him, it was prevalent that he too was plagued by fatigue. His cheeks were more sunken than before, his eyes drooping as he visibly struggled to hold himself up. You yearned to reach out, place a hand on his spine and simply hold him, aid him as he wrestled with the weight of the world upon his back. But then, as his eyes turned towards yours, the weight of the wedding ring upon your finger prevailed once again; you could only turn away. 

Hank managed to find a group of last minute rooms at a nearby motel, though as he returned to the reception's waiting area, keys in hand, his nerves were ever-prevalent. “I only managed to get three rooms; two have two beds and another has one, I was thinking-” 

“I’m taking the solo room,” Logan ordered, snatching the key from Hank’s hand and sauntering down the hallway, though not without sending a wink over his shoulder at you. Bastard. 

“Oh-” Hank froze, the other keys dangling from his fingers- you could only watch as he winced, practically praying for you to forgive him with his eyes, “Charles, I doubt it would be safe for you to be with Erik, so I guess…” 

You could only sigh, electing every ounce of confidence you could embody before standing, cutting Hank off once again before retrieving a key from his hand, without turning you spoke, “Well, come on then, Erik.” 

You felt his presence behind you, each of you electing to say nothing as you unlocked the haggard wooden door; its hinges creaking as you pushed open the door. Before you stood two double beds, an only-just-comfortable distance between the two. Nodding to yourself, you entered the room, your fingers twirling the keys nervously as you surveyed the room; you felt the air thicken as the door slammed behind you- you felt like prey finally being cornered by the predator. 

Erik cleared his throat behind you, the sound thick and grating, “I’ll take the bed beside the door; would you like to use the bathroom first?” 

You turned towards him, shocked by his kindness; he could only stare back at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and exhaustion tinting his features. “I- Sure.” You could only croak, opting to briskly enter the bathroom; afraid of irrationality taking over your lovesick mind. Reaching behind the shower’s curtain, you turned on the water before stripping off your clothes, the sound of your ring clattering against the sink as you placed it down caused you to flinch, knowing that Erik would be all too aware of your every move from the other side of the door. 

You took your time in the shower, breathing in the warm steam and collecting yourself after the events of the day, collecting yourself in preparation for the events of the night that was to come. You could do this, even if it meant a sleepless night whilst Erik lay only feet away; whilst the object of all of your nightmares lay only feet away. It reminded you of a night, a night a long time ago; in a motel room just like the one you were in, his skin against yours; his breath hot against the base of your throat as he had slowly stripped you of your clothes, as he had kissed every inch of you. It reminded you of his pants as he pushed into you, his groans as he buried his sweat-coated forehead into the skin of your shoulder, biting and licking and sucking there as you became one. The way that he had moaned his love for you into the skin there, your responsive moans loud and uncaring as you had clawed at the skin of his back, gripped at the hair upon the base of his head- 

Stop; you shut off the hot water, stumbling from the shower as you panted, your cheeks and chest red with warmth as you desperately attempted to remove the memory from your mind. Gripping the porcelain of the sink, you eyed your pathetic reflection; willing, begging, yourself to let this go, let your silly daydreams go. This was reality, your reality. Getting through the night was the only necessity you needed to accomplish, then you could avoid Erik and promptly never see him again. 

You could go back to your husband, back to your life. 

Undeniably however, you couldn’t ignore the way Erik made you feel, the way his mere presence made you feel. Adam’s influence upon you paled entirely in comparison, your obligation to return to him simply one of duty, one to appease your family, one to live the ‘perfect’ life- be the perfect wife. But you craved more, you craved better; for years you had chased and yearned for the way Erik’s slightest touch had made you feel- the way that his love encompassed every molecule of your being; the way that he had branded you for life, rendered unable to ever feel the way you had felt with him again. Your thoughts of Erik made you all too aware of how long you had spent in the bathroom.

How long you had spent, very obviously, avoiding him. 

You emerged from the bathroom in nothing but the oversized shirt you had packed hastily to sleep in; swiping it from the bed due to the short notice you had received in regards to this trip. You felt bare, naked suddenly as you left the bathroom to Erik’s piercing gaze. He sat, fully clothed, lounging against the headrest; allowing a pen to swirl around his fingers, dancing from pointer to thumb as his wrist spun. Entrapped, you could only stand there and stare; stare at the beauty of his powers, at the beauty of him. 

“It feels good,” He spoke slowly, carefully, allowing the pen to drop onto the sheets beside him, “To use my powers again; to feel metal.” 

You nodded, smiling politely, unsure of exactly what to say in response. You opted to stay silent, allowing yourself to walk past him and into your own bed, the crinkle of the duvet loud in the silent room, loud within the silence that was swelling between you. 

“You aren’t wearing it,” Erik spoke suddenly, his voice slicing through the silence; to your shock. Once you recovered, you simply crooked an eyebrow at him, to which he spoke; swallowing his words audibly, “Your ring.” 

“Oh,” You shook your head, staring down at your empty finger, remembering that you had placed it on the sink, “I usually-” 

“I can feel it.” He spoke, refusing to meet your eyes as he failed to prevent his thoughts from spilling, “I could sense the metal as soon as we left the building; I could sense your necklace, the rims of your sunglasses, the iron in your blood, and that ring.” 

His words turned to venom at the procurement of the final item, you watched as he grit his teeth; smoothing a hand over his head as his jaw clenched. Anger bloomed at the pits of your stomach in response, anger at his audacity to attempt to stake such ownership over you, “You were gone, Erik.” You spat, turning to him, anger blazing in your eyes; as reflected by the shock upon his face, “What? Did you expect me to wait around like a child? Wait for you to come back on the slim chance that it would happen?” 

Slowly, at the pit of his lungs, he formed a laugh; his head shaking as his fingers trembled once again, “You think so lowly of me, Darling.” 

“You left me!” You were yelling now, rising from the tangled bed sheets as your chest heaved with anger, heaved with the heartbreak and sadness that had plagued you for the consequent years following his departure, “You left me.” 

“I gave you a choice, Y/N. You chose Charles, you were more than welcome to come with me.” 

You shook your head, scoffing, “Well… if I had gone with you; I would be dead by now.” Your tone held a sense of finality, as supported by your return to the bed as you promptly turned your back to him, curling up under the duvet and refusing to face his reaction to your words. His response followed in the slam of the bathroom door as he promptly left the room; leaving behind the stale air of your own regret. 

It felt like hours as you waited, wondered; hoped for him to come back. Hoped for the two of you to forget the words that had been said, to sleep comfortably in your separate beds and complete this mission as peacefully as possible; to go your separate ways and live your separate lives once again. 

In the depths of these daunting thoughts, you fell asleep; the exhaustion of the day’s tensions taking hold as your eyes slipped closed. You woke, hours later, to the moon’s rays spanning throughout the room; a ghostly glow hanging in the air as you rubbed at your eyes, glancing to your side, Erik was fast asleep; his sharp edges and soft hair illuminated in the scant light- you allowed yourself a moment, just that moment, to take him in. Drink in the features you hadn’t faced in almost a decade, the features you longed to reach out towards; to trail a finger down his jaw or scratch a nail upon his hair. His hair was wavy, a slightly damp smell filtered throughout the room told you that he too had taken the opportunity to shower. 

The thought of his broad shoulders and lean back illuminated by the spray of hot water did nothing to help the swarm of doubt swirling within your gut. Shaking your head, you reached into the bag beside your bed; fetching the box of cigarettes stashed within one of the inner pockets. 

Then, barefoot and in just a shirt, you shouldered open the room’s door, balancing a cigarette upon your lip as you did so before promptly lighting it, traversing the motel’s corridors silently before reaching the fire escape. Hoisting yourself upwards, you climbed up the ladders before finally reaching the building’s roof. The night was clear, quiet; the only sounds emerging from the distant highway and subsequent traffic- you listened out for any signs of disruption as you lowered yourself to the roof, allowing your legs to dangle from the side of the building. 

The silence of the night and the goosebumps prickling at your bare arms allowed the tears to emerge; it allowed them to pour down your cheeks, for snot to bubble at your nose and for your lips to tremble with unkempt sobs. You allowed for your hurt to take hold, for your hurt at Erik’s words and actions and simple presence to take hold. But then you allowed your hurt towards yourself to unfold; for allowing yourself to end up here, in this situation- living this life that you had manufactured for yourself. 

You couldn’t go back to that motel room, but most notably you couldn’t go back home. You couldn’t bear it anymore; the stresses of being within that barron manor were becoming too much to bear. If you couldn’t be with Erik, then you would rather be alone; somewhere far away, far away from here. You stewed upon this thought for a long time, as you lit your second, third and fourth cigarettes; it prevailed. 

Just as your fourth cigarette began to dwindle, the slam of a door sounded below you before hasty, alert footsteps lined the hallway. You rose, walking back towards the highest entrance of the fire exit before looking down; listening as the hurried steps continued, haggard breaths accompanying it. Opting to investigate, you lowered yourself onto the platform below before descending the stairs; entering the residential hallway of the hotel. There, at the end of the corridor stood Erik, the obvious source of the worried footsteps as his chest heaved; he was turning in place, visibly searching for something as he rushed down the hallway. 

“What-” You mumbled, slowly walking towards him as he had not yet spotted you. Finally, you decided to catch his attention; concerned as to whether there was some form of danger, “Erik?” You called, a hand shielding your eyes as you peered down the dark hallway. You watched as he froze at the sound of your words, his head snapping towards you as he drank in your presence, your appearance. 

“What the fuck-” He breathed, immediately shaking off his shock and advancing towards you, practically running as he reached you. Entirely unannounced, he swept you up into his arms; shaking as he lowered his head to your shoulder, practically breathing you in as he tightened his hold by the second. 

“Erik, what-” 

“What is your problem?” He pulled back almost as soon as it had begun, his breathing staggered as a blush covered his cheeks; he wore only the black tank top and sweatpants he had been asleep in, his hair a mess upon his head; as if he had just jumped from his bed, “I woke up and- and you were gone, your bed sheets were practically stale with how long you’ve been gone I-” 

“I’m fine.” You assured, catching his hands between your own as an attempt to calm him down; the worry he had been feeling now prevalent within the staggering of his chest and the blush at his cheeks, “I just went to have a smoke I- let’s get you back to the room.”

He nodded, his glassy eyes immediately beginning to droop as he allowed you to use your grasp on his hand to pull him down the hallway. Upon depositing him into his own bed, as you left to enter your own, a tight grip latched upon your wrist; you turned, only to be met with those blue eyes swarming with desperation, “Stay?”

You sighed, nodding reluctantly before crawling in beside him; allowing him to drape an arm over your waist, allowing him to rest his head upon yours. Before your departure, before the decision would be set; you could allow yourself this one thing, this one night of unplagued sleep as his comfort would ward away the nightmares that tended to tinge your nights. 

But, before you could fall asleep; Erik’s voice rumbled above you, “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You could only shrug, pressing your nose to his chest as you listened to his heartbeat, “Me too, Erik.” 

He moved backwards then, settling so that his face lay directly before yours; the tip of his nose rubbing against yours with each second breath. It seemed that he could only muster a whisper as he continued to speak, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” His eyes grew wet as he spoke, his head shaking slightly as he smiled sadly. 

“Erik.” You whispered, your voice soft with contempt as you raised a hand to his cheek; brushing away the tears that had begun to fall there. Feeling him swallow against your wrist, you could only watch as his eyes flickered downwards, just as your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip. Before you could register, he had moved; his lips pressed to yours as your cheeks grew wet with his steadily falling tears. Your mind allowed nothing else but to kiss back, to shift your leg upwards and to caress his cheek with your thumb. He kissed you earnestly, slowly; as if approaching a terrified fawn, testing the waters as to what you would allow him. You could practically taste the desperation perspiring his tongue, as you assumed he could yours. You would take anything, trade any parts of your wretched souls if it meant that you could feel this forever; feel the warmth of his tongue sliding against yours for every waking moment that remained. 

Erik pulled back then, only to lower himself; his mouth hot and needy against your throat, his hands trailing patterns against the skin of your stomach; becoming exposed as your shirt had rode upwards. His ministrations rendered you only able to lay there and pant; to bask in the feeling of being needed, wanted. Truly, ferociously. 

As he began to paint a trail of kisses down your stomach, something changed; something shifted in his demeanour. His hands, beginning to pull your thighs upward, were shaking and whilst his lips were forming kisses, they were forming words too. As you raised yourself to rest against your elbows, you finally heard the words forming within his mouth, “Please don’t go back to him.” He was whispering, pairing the almost unspoken words with a gentle kiss to the nearest area of skin; he was crying again, his eyes glistening with fresh, unshed tears as he burrowed his face into your skin. It seemed as if he was afraid to let you go, practically burrowing himself into your being, with the hopes that you would stay. 

“Erik, Erik wait-” You spoke urgently, lowering your hand to his chin before pushing him away; he stared up at you through his glassy eyes; his hair ruffled and cheeks rosy. Confusion graced his features at first, though he soon registered the concern in your eyes and realisation visibly dawned upon him. 

He removed himself from you then, moving to sit at the end of the bed; the duvet splayed around his waist as he sat with his legs crossed. He seemed to take a moment to compose himself, wiping at his mouth and running a finger over his teary eyes, “I’m sorry Y/N, I- it’s not my place to tell you what to do.” 

Instantly, you crawled towards him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and settling yourself into the space between his legs; you felt his cheeks crinkle as you pressed kiss after kiss to his face, but you could still sense his confusion, his doubt. “I knew I would be leaving him the moment Logan mentioned your name, whether you were coming with me or not.” You stroked his hair as you spoke, caressing your fingers through the thin tendrils of oaky brown hair that adorned your lover's head. Erik grinned then; his teeth shining as he practically mooned up at you, he kissed you again then; pulling you in and deeper into his lap. 

Before you could push him onto his back, before you could lower yourself upon him and mobilise the groans that would fall from his mouth; he abruptly straightened up, untwining his hand from beneath your shirt and raising it in the air- your wedding ring flew towards the two of you, hanging in the air before Erik made a flicking motion with his fingers; you could only gape as the ring flew through the open window and into the darkness of the night. 

“Erik!” You squealed, hitting at his chest as he laughed loudly, unabashedly. Despite being secretly pleased, you couldn’t allow him to know that. “That was expensive!” 

“I can find you better,” Erik grumbled against your chest, burrowing his head into your shirt and inhaling unashamedly, “That one wasn’t you anyway, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw that ghastly thing on your finger.” 

The only response you could have mustered in that moment was to shove him back against the bed; silencing him with the warmth of your own mouth.

🫧𓇼*ੈTIME AFTER TIME✩‧₊˚🎐

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ “If your lost, you can look, and you will find me..time after time. If you fall I will catch you, I’ll be waiting…time after time” -Cyndi Lauper 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

Summary: after a one night stand with Joost you both can’t seem to get each other out of y’all’s heads. You were always on his mind since then and you couldn’t stop thinking about the blond boy with the cute accent… until your paths cross once more. This time Joost won’t walk away

Note: (all credit for the edit above goes to MCRBATS on TikTok!!) this is a part two for “only stay with you one more night” ITS FINALLY OUT GUYSSS!! I beg for more requests because yall give me the most scrumptious ideas for fics ever!! Also, this is kinda bad so please don’t jump me!!!

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE, Talk of past sexual relations, mostly fluff!

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It had been months, you hadn’t seen Joost since that night that left you both achey in a good and bad way. You’d pondered on your thoughts and feelings towards the blondie and you mentally scolded yourself for thinking he’d come back for you. It obviously meant nothing to him, he probably sleeps with people left and right. You were no different to all the others in his mind.

But you were. Joost couldn’t get your name out his mind. Couldn’t get your pretty face and voice out of his mind. He kept thinking about the way you said moaned his name and how soft your hands were against his rough ones. He wanted to go back in time and make himself bite the curb for leaving your apartment that early morning.

You were so so so much different. Sure, this one night stand wasn’t his first rodeo but the way he looked at you was. The way he felt towards you was, he didn’t know why. He really didn’t. He’d only fully been around you for around 5 hours but those moments gave him a feeling he’d never felt before. He felt so much love, care, and warmth towards your personal being and just wanted to protect you from everything.

He’d ruined it though, we walked through and out your front door that morning. He felt cold as soon as he did but there was no going back now. He had in his signature white earbuds in while he looked out the window of the Uber that was taking him home, his mind still on you. And just like that, that was the last time he’d seen your beautiful face and your addicting scent.

The sound of his friend, apson calling his name pulled him out of his trance. He was setting up for his concert in a few hours, when he was preforming it was the only time he could get you off his mind…well somewhat at least. He went over and helped out apson and the rest of his crew and friends. Helping them set everything up and getting everything done for tonight.

You on the other hand were at your friend, Alexis’s house just hanging out when she interrupted you while you were talking. Her eyes were wide like she’d just remembered something and her movements were one of excitement, taking you aback. “Oh my god!! Sorry to interrupt you but I totally forgot about something, so Mia, Rayo, and Lacey are coming over later and we’re all going to a musicians concert Mia likes!!”

You stare at her with a smile and sarcasm laced in your voice, “now why the hell would you wanna interrupt my story to tell me about that?” You say with a chuckle, “beaacauseee…I want you to come with! It’ll be fun and I know the others would love to have you there too!” You furrow your eyebrows, this reminded you of that night where they all begged you to come out to that club with them where you met that boy you haven’t been able to get your mind off of.

You take a deep sigh, “Lex you know how I feel about things like that.” You reply but Alexis isn’t ready to back down just yet, “no I know but this concert will be different, it’s not as big as mainstream concerts and Mia said it’ll be fun!!” Alexis says looking at you with those puppy eyes and pouting in a sarcastic way.

You groan and just like you did that night months ago you agree. Around an hour later the rest of your friends show up a to get ready. You hang with Rayo fixing your makeup before looking over to him, “who are we even seeing anyways?” You ask him curiously, “man I don’t remember, I just remember Mia putting on his music and showing me a picture of him. Good looking guy and his music isn’t bad whatsoever…soo” Rayo replies with a smile

‘Whatever..’ you think, ‘at least this will be something to get me out the house and doing something.’ You sigh as your friends squeal and run to the car, excited to go. You laugh at their childishness and run after them. It takes around 20 minutes to arrive and the whole time your driving you feel this sensation in your chest, you can’t stop thinking about Joost…he was always on your mind don’t get me wrong but something about this was just different.

Joost was backstage, talking with his friends and trying to calm his excitement for the concert. But something about this felt oddly familiar, he’d never felt this before any concert. His mind now fully immersed and focused on you, he shakes his head as apson calls him over. Trying to shake the thought of you out his mind, as he gets up from where he was sat to walk to apson.

“Het concert begint zo, zijn jullie er klaar voor?” (The concerts gonna start soon, are you ready?) Apson says to Joost, clapping his hand on his shoulder with a smile. Joost takes a breath and smiles at apson, “Ja, ben je er klaar voor? Heb je nog ergens hulp bij nodig?” (Yeah, are you ready? Do you need help with anything else?) Joost replies, nudging apson with his shoulder, this makes apson clasp his hands together. “Ah, Ja, dat ben ik helemaal vergeten. Kom met me mee” (ah, yes, I completely forgot. Come with me..) apson says as the two men walk to set one last thing up.

You and your friends finally arrived to the concert. You all scooted to the front, people being nice enough to let y’all shuffle through. You and your friends talked before music played out making everyone around you, plus your friends scream with excitement. A guy runs out on stage, dressed in a while collared shirt with a black tie and black pants.

He has…short, messy, blond hair.. the same hair Joost had. No way, that wouldn’t be him- that was what you thought before he turned to face the crowd. Those features. Holy shit. It was him. He spoke into the microphone and you immediately knew from the sound of that pretty accent. It was Joost, the boy you couldn’t get out of your head.

Your mind races and you can’t decide if you should be excited or mortified that he’s standing right in front of you. On one hand, this is the boy you’ve wanted to be reunited with for months. On the other hand, it’s embarrassing to face him now. You secretly hope he’ll see you and you’re also hoping he won’t.

He sings his song, “offline” as he looks at the crowd before he sees it. He thinks he’s imagining things, you’ve been a constant in his head for months but there’s no way you’re here right now. No way you’re looking up at him with the same shocked expression that his face definitely has. His voice slightly shakes but he keeps on singing. He’s imagining shit, god he needs to get it together

But it wasn’t his imagination. You were there, for the rest of the concert you and Joost made continuous eye contact. And after the concert was done and Joost was backstage he was his wracking his brain for any way he could catch you. He couldn’t let you leave again, he just got given a second chance and he wasn’t about to give it up.

You were thinking the same things, you were alone in your mind the whole concert. You were thinking and planing about what to do after this, once the concert was done and everyone was leaving. You panicked, “u-um you guys can leave without me, I can get an Uber back home! I need to do something..! I’ll text you when I get home safe!” You say

You knew they wouldn’t let you so you run away before they can protest against your words. You look around, after your far enough away. You second guess yourself once your by yourself. Your heart is racing but your thoughts won. What if he didn’t wanna see you? What is he forgot about you and everything about that night.? You shake your head and realize what you’re doing, your friends probably haven’t gotten far.

Before you can run back to your friends you hear heavy footsteps, you turn around frantically. And you finally see Joost turning the corner to the hallway to where you were. He turns his head when you both lock eyes, both of you freezing. You stared at each other, breathing heavily and hearts racing.

“J-Joost..?” You stutter out, your voice weak and body stiff. He immediately breaks out of his trace at the sound of that voice that he’d missed so much. He runs towards you and embraces you, it was strange…it really was. This amount of affection for someone you hadn’t seen a few months and only spend one night together.

But it felt like you both were intertwined, sewn together in some way (Adrianne Lenker mentioned?!) He smiles, picking you up and spinning you around. “Holy shit it’s really you, fuck I’m so sorry. I regretted leaving as soon as I closed your door. I’m sorry if I made you feel used or unimportant, your not and i-“ he’s put off my a soft kiss being pressed to his lips

You grab his face as his hands pull your waist to be flush against his hips. Both of you are out of breath, pressing messy and rough kisses to each others lips. You moan softly on his lips and joost took his opportunity to slip his tounge into your mouth. Nothing but love shown in the kisses as he presses you up against the wall behind you, towering over you as you finally pull away.

“I’m not letting you go again, I hope you’re aware of that..” he says with his signature smile and you giggle before responding, “I wouldn’t have it any other way..” you say before he lowers his head, catching your lips in his once more

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ “ Wanna listen to the sound of you blinking, wanna listen to your hands soothe. Listen to your heart beating, listen to the way you move” - Adrianne lenker 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

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TAGLIST: @timewillpasssoon @poppymelonz @pickle-juice-and-vodka @imsiriuslyreal

📸 fishIuv

claim. oscar diaz

word count: 2.5k

warnings: swearing, some derogatory terms

requested: nope i wrote this a really long time ago and just found it

plot: oscar claims you without telling you first

a/n: just found this and reread and loved so i'm sharing lol look at all this content wow who am i??? anyway hope u like lmk what you think pls

masterlist

you spent the whole day receiving weird stares, feeling like everyone was talking about you. which was weird because no one ever talked about you. you walked outside over to where your friends sat eating lunch. you dropped your bag on the floor and your tray on the table.

"what the hell is up with everyone today?" you asked cluelessly. you friends looked at you, wide eyed and clued up. you weren't paying attention, you shoved a fry in your mouth, glancing up to see your small group of friends all staring at you. "what?" you chuckled.

"is it true?" your friend on your left was the first to speak, the others still sat with wide eyes and open jaws. jesus. what was wrong with them.

"is what true?" you continued to shovel fries in your mouth, assuming they were messing with you about something. you never suspected them to be thinking what they were really thinking.

"you and spooky?" you furrowed your eyebrows hearing his name, you stopped munching on your lunch. you and oscar were friends. your little brother ruby, was friends with his little brother cesar. so naturally you saw oscar a lot, he was always dropping cesar at your house and vice versa. he was nicer than people thought, he definitely wasn't spooky. that was a load of crap.

"what-- oscar? oscar diaz?" you clarified.

"obviously," she scoffed in disbelief. "you really have no idea?"

you looked puzzled between your friends who wore the same expression still. you were confused. "i don't understand."

"he claimed you."

"he— what?" you choked on a fry you'd just popped into your mouth, coughing and hacking as you tried to compose yourself. after a big gulp of water you let your jaw hang open. "he claimed me?"

"you didn't know?" your friend frowned. "it's all anyones been talking about all day."

that explained the whispers and the stares. but it didn't explain why oscar did it. you were just friends. or so you thought.

they all began to bombard you with questions about oscar. you blurred out the noise though. you didn't understand any of this. none of it made sense. oscar wouldn't just claim you. he's never even insinuated that he likes you like that. he was always friendly, and sure you liked him, but that didn't mean he could just claim you. you had to speak to him.

"is he good in bed?" you snapped out of your daze, frowning.

"we're not together." you shook your head. "i don't know who started this shit— but we're just friends."

you sighed, remaining silent for the rest of your lunch period. your friends got that you didn't want to talk about it and moved on. but you couldn't stop thinking about it.

straight after school finished you headed straight for oscar's house. you had to clear this up. you couldn't go around with people thinking you'd been claimed by a santo. it was ridiculous. it wasn't a long walk, you knew the route pretty well since ruby spent most of his time with his dumb friends.

you saw a few santos members hanging around outside his house as you got closer. you gulped, eyeing them up as you came up the path. no sign of oscar.

"have you seen spooky?" you questioned. you saw a few smirks, lingering eyes. you felt a little uncomfortable, you didn't really know oscars friends that well, you just saw them around the block a lot.

"he's inside, nena." you nodded, ignoring the pet name. you walked through the group of guys, ignoring the stares as you did, and up to the front door and knocking pretty loud.

the door swung open moments later, oscar standing in front of you now. you pushed passed him and came inside, eager to get out of the other santos members earshot. oscar scoffed, a small smirk on his lips. "come in."

you were pretty annoyed now that you were looking at him with your own eyes. now that you'd seen the way the santos were acting around you. it was making you mad. you never asked for any of this.

he could tell you were angry. "what's up, nena?"

"don't call me that," you snapped, harsher than you intended to come across. your mind was moving too fast. you didn't even know whether the rumours were true. he might not have done anything. oscar raised his eyebrows, taken back by your tone. "what the hell was that?" you pointed to where the santos where sat outside. "and what the hell are you doing telling people you've claimed me?"

his smirk drooped a little, but was still there. you crossed your arms over your chest. so it was true! he had no right to do that. no wonder the santos where looking at you like a piece of meat, no wonder people were whispering about you all day at school. everyone thought you were a whore. you couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of shit he'd been telling his friends about you. you didn't want to think about it. you were pissed.

"we're friends, oscar," you exclaimed. "you can't just tell people i belong to you now because you felt like it. that's fucked up." you raised your eyebrows, the strain on your face showing. he didn't react so much as he just ducked his head, wearing a sly smirk.

"y/n—" he tried to speak but you quickly cut him off. you hadn't gotten all of your anger out of your system. you wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

"no— you don't understand," you frowned, you walked closer to him, having previously been on opposite sides of the room. "people are talking shit about me. i know because even my friends were dying to know just how big of a whore i am now that i've been claimed. by you." your breathing was heavy now, his smirk was fading the more you spoke. "it's not the same for you. you claim me. you get all the credit right? your friends big you up. you feel secure in your masculinity. but for me— i'm suddenly a massive whore."

"you're not a whore." was all he said.

"i know that!" you raised your voice. "but everyone thinks i am— your boys outside were practically undressing me with their eyes— so don't tell me you haven't been telling them lies about me." you were furious with him. he had no right to go and treat you like this. you thought you were friends. you might of even had a little crush on him, but that was gone now. how could someone be so nice to you and then go ahead and talk about you like this.

"they what?" he frowned. he didn't look like he had any clue what you were talking about. "if they said anything to you—"

"are you even listening to me?" you sighed. "why did you claim me? i thought we were friends." you furrowed your brows. oscar was standing pretty close to you now. he could see how heavy you were breathing after you'd gotten all that off your chest.

"i had to," he said briefly at first. you folded your arms across your chest ready to go off on him again but he touched your arm. "just let me explain— ok?" you took a step back, letting his hand drop from your arm, but you remained quiet, ready to pick apart whatever bullshit excuse he had made up. "i never said a word about you— promise," his expression was pretty neutral. you couldn't tell whether he was lying or not. "whatever people are talkin' about is bullshit, ma."

you nodded, hesitantly taking his word for it. you were still pretty mad though. he still claimed you, you had no say in the matter. he didn't put it past you. he never confessed anything to you. out of nowhere. no guys would ever talk to you again once they found out spooky of all people had claimed you.

"i was just tryna' keep you safe," you furrowed your brows. you weren't in danger. "we've been hanging out more and more. the homies noticed you. no doubt people would find out we're close sooner or later. if something happened to you because of me— i couldn't live with myself."

your breath caught in your throat when you felt him hand touch your face. his fingers traced along your jawline. you frowned, pulling away confused. "wait— what?" where was this coming from? oscar was always so calm and collected around you. you hung out but he never showed any signs. and believe me, you were looking for them.

"i like you, alright?" he huffed, embarrassed he had to spell it out for you. "don't be mad at me."

"i'm not mad at you," you mumbled. "anymore, anyway," you both stood still in front or each other. he raised an eyebrow. you rolled your eyes. "maybe a little."

he breathed a quiet laugh. "m'sorry you had to go through that today. i should've told you before i did anything."

"yeah you should've," you agreed. he seemed pretty sincere but you didn't know how to react. you just stood quietly in front of him, trying to think of something to say. "sorry i shouted at you."

"i deserved it."

you nodded. "yeah, you kinda did." he smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders, but you were still confused. you had a little crush on him, you knew that, but you never thought he felt the same. you were convinced he didn't feel the same. so this changed things. you were suddenly nervous, unsure how to act around him. you hadn't done this so much before. you bit your lip, avoiding his intense stare. you didn't know what to do.

"y'don't feel the same?" he mumbled, disheartened. you snapped out of the daze you'd put yourself in by trying to think what to say. you felt so different so quickly. five minutes ago you could've said anything to him, now you didn't know.

you shook your head. "no— i do— i mean— i don't know—" you stopped yourself, ducking your head. you were really bad at this. you'd lost any sense of comfort you felt being around him. he was making you nervous, he wouldn't stop staring at you. you huffed, running your hand through your hair and turning away from him. "stop looking at me for two seconds, please, so i can think."

you heard a quiet laugh come from him behind you. you ran your hand over your face, you were embarrassing yourself. you just needed to talk to him as if you were still friends. "i do like you. i just didn't think you liked me, so i didn't think about it and now you just went and said that— and claimed me— and i'm— i—"

"it's too much." you sighed, nodding, thankful he'd taken the words out of your mouth.

"i don't think you wanna claim me, oscar," you had turned back to face him again. you were standing further apart now. you didn't know how to read his expression, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pulled taught. "i know how you are with girls and i don't think i fit your usual type."

he watched you rambling away, trying to talk yourself out of it before anything had happened. oscar moved closer to you, he grabbed your hand and this time you let him hold it instead of pulling away. your eyebrows were furrowed.

"we can take it slow," he reassured you. you took a deep breath, not expecting this reaction from him. you were sure you had scared him off with all your doubts and your talking. you'd never been in a serious relationship before. this was pretty new to you. you were so sure oscar wasn't the type to take it slow and develop feelings just for one girl, that you'd tried to talk him out of it before anything started. "i don't mind."

he tugged your hand, pulling you closer to him. he held both your hands now, his face inches away, he could feel your heavy breaths on his skin. you nodded, softly. "y'sure?"

he nodded. "believe it or not, i've had my eye on you for a while," you found it hard to believe but he was so sincere all the time he was talking to you, you had no choice but to believe him. "mami, you're the funniest, smartest and the finest girl i've seen in a long time— i've only got eyes for you. we don't gotta rush anything."

your heart was beating out of your chest. he was looking at you a certain way, you were practically melting. you opened your mouth to reply but nothing came out at first. a smile broke on his face, pulling away from you for a second. you couldn't help but smile too. how your mood had changed so quickly was baffling.

"do you realise what my friends are gonna say when they find out?" you scoffed, still kind of finding it hard to accept that oscar of all people was acting like this towards you. he laughed at your comment. you thought again. "what will your friends say?"

"mami, i claimed you. if anyone gives you any trouble. let me know." you nodded. you gulped at the pet name.

"yeah about that," you untangled your hands from his and poked his chest. "if you get to claim me, then i get to claim you too. on principle."

he tried to hide the smile on his face, nodding, agreeing with your terms. "fine by me."

"ok." you nodded.

"ok." he crossed his arms over his chest. you suddenly felt much more relaxed than you had before. things were starting to feel like they did before any of this was out in the open. you were happy. you smiled. "te ves bonita cuando sonríes."

you hummed a quiet thanks. your cheeks tinted, involuntarily. you tried to disguise it but it was hard. he was so good at this. you felt like an amateur. oscar just chuckled, placing to hands on your hips and pulling you against him. you wrapped two arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes so you could reach. you didn't realise just how much taller he was than you till now. he squeezed you tight and you laughed, pulling away from him. without thinking about it, he pressed his lips against your forehead. your hands moved from his neck to either side of his face. he had the nicest brown eyes you ever saw. you wanted to kiss him but something stopped you. you smiled softly, standing on your tiptoes once more to kiss his cheek.

you'd had a whirlwind of a day but you were pretty happy with how it turned out. you had a lot coming your way but you felt a little better knowing oscar would be there to defend you every step of the way.

an absolutely insane way to end this year