Alone And Forsaken
Alone and Forsaken
one-shot
Joel Miller x fem!reader
A/N: I got COVID and haven't had a coherent thought in five days, so if this doesn't make sense it's not my fault, it's the virus. (Thank you @benkeibear for the dividers)
Summary: You're aren't anything to Joel Miller. You're a comfort, habit, and necessity. But you've never been anything more. It gets to you and you do what you always do, you run. When you make the permanent move to Jackson you've got no choice but to face the truth of what you are to each other.
WC: 9.4K
Part two here
You glanced down at Ellie, sweat was beading on her forehead and she was shivering in her sleeping bag. You glanced towards Joel, he was staring down at his gun, he’d been cleaning it for the past ten minutes.
“We’re right near Jack-”
“No,” his voice was rough, a command rather than an interruption. You sighed and went back to crafting some arrows for Ellie. “We’ll find some medicine tomorrow.”
You gave a noncommittal hum, you could hear him sigh from across the fire. You’d managed to clean out an old office today, you were camping out on the roof. Joel had determined the fog provided enough cover to not have to worry about others seeing the smoke.
He placed his gun down and leaned his elbows on his knees, you could feel his stare boring into you but you refused to give in. He wasn’t the only one who could be a stubborn bastard. “Y/N-”
“You’re acting like an old fool.”
He scoffed, “I’m not that old.”
“Joel,” you finally glanced up. “Ellie needs medicine, we’re right near your brother’s we might as well see if he’s got anything.” He stared at you for a long moment, not saying anything, until his shoulders slumped and he shrugged. He went back to cleaning his gun and you could tell he had conceded.
You’d made it to Jackson a year ago after the Firefly incident at the hospital. But it had been too much for all three of you. Years of killing, fighting to keep yourself alive, all on your own, it was too jarring to be in such a quaint little place.
You couldn’t wake up every morning to a “Howdy, neighbor!” like nothing had changed. There were too many people and it was too forceful a transition from fighting for every last resource to suddenly having everything willingly handed to you.
Eventually, when it became too tiring to keep fighting, you were sure you would move back to Jackson. For now, each of you enjoyed the freedom of not having to fight for anyone but yourselves. It was an occasional pit stop for supplies and a dose of normalcy.
You’d been on the road for about six months now, it was time to cycle back onto the path towards Tommy.
Good timing too, about two days ago Ellie had a sore throat and now she’s pretty much deadweight behind you both. “We’ll head out at dawn.” Joel stood up, nothing more to say, and took first watch. You tucked your arrows away and laid down, hoping to get some sleep before you were on the move again.
“How much further?”
“Another few miles,” Joel glanced over his shoulder at you. “How’s she doing?”
“I’m doing fine,” Ellie interrupted. But it was hard to believe her when her voice was a barely audible croak and she was leaning against you for support.
Joel sighed and glanced towards his right, there was a creek and a sunny patch of grass. He started towards it, dropping his pack on a rock and coming to a stop. “We’ll stop here for a break.”
“I said I’m fin-”
She interrupted herself with a cough that was so jarring you winced. It sounded like her throat was being ripped apart. When she finally caught her breath she reluctantly followed you towards the creek next to Joel. “I’ll check out the area, we shouldn’t be out here long.”
Joel nodded, standing guard next to Ellie while she wheezed trying to catch her breath. You moved away from them, going to check the surrounding area. Just when you deemed too much time had passed and were about to turn around you could feel something cold pressing into the back of your head.
“Don’t move.”
You slowly dropped your rifle to the forest floor, raising your hands in surrender as the person behind you pulled back the hammer of their gun. “Okay, it’s okay, we can talk about this.” The gun pulled back abruptly and then they were in front of you.
“Y/N! Damn girl, almost killed you.” Tommy tucked his gun into his holster and pulled you into a brief hug. You sighed and picked your gun back up.
“The hell are you doing this far out?”
“Been seeing a lot of infected, had to start patrolling out further.” Tommy peered around you, looking for something. “Joel with you?”
You nodded, leading him back to Joel. There was a brief reunion, nothing much considering they’ve been seeing each other a lot more than they used to. Tommy took Ellie on his horse back to Jackson, said it would be faster that way.
You and Joel still had a few more miles left, walking in silence side by side.
The silence, as always, had you contemplating your something with Joel. Because you wouldn’t say you and Joel were in a relationship. You’d both loved and lost too much in your life to ever truly be open to something like that again.
But you granted each other a softness you didn’t offer anyone else. There was an unspoken connection between the two of you that never went acknowledged. You glanced over at him, nudging his arm with your elbow. “More excited about coffee or a shower?”
“More excited about you finally showering.”
You scoffed in faux offense and shoved him lightly. His eyes crinkled, the crow’s feet becoming more prominent as he smirked at you. “Jerk. I smell amazing,” that was a blatant lie. Neither of you smelled great. It’d been about a week since you’d had a chance to really freshen up. Still, it was always fun to mess with him a little bit.
When you finally made it to Jackson you moved quickly through the inspection station, showing the medics your bite-free body and then headed towards Ellie.
She was already knocked out, whatever flu medicine they’d managed to scrounge up had done its job quickly. Maria led you to a house at the far end of town, you watched as Joel entered the one across from you.
You showered, enjoying the foreign feeling of fresh, hot, water running over your skin. You used the clothes Maria provided you, but after an hour of just wandering around the house you were starting to feel restless.
You had sat on the couch, stared at the black screen of the TV, and gotten back up about three times. You huffed out an irritated breath and headed towards the door. You weren’t sure where you were going but the quiet was starting to feel suffocating.
The pristine, cozy house, was overwhelming you with memories of a past best left forgotten. You opened the door-
“Why!”
“Shit,” Joel grimaced, offering you an awkward pat on the shoulder instead of an apology. You rubbed your forehead, pain radiating from where he’d hit you. “I was trying to knock, didn’t think you’d open the door.”
You sighed, glancing up at him and shrugging. “I can’t stand being in here. House is too…”
“Big,” he finished. You nodded, stepping outside and joining him on the porch. You both started walking, heading towards his house, the one that actually had chairs on the patio. Luckily the houses you were staying in this time around were farther away from everyone else.
People walking with their families was a distant noise that was barely discernible.
Families
The thought made you want to scoff. Families in the apocalypse, fucking ridiculous. “It’s peaceful here.”
“For them,” you glanced at Joel and he seemed to share the same thought as you. You’d changed too much, spilled too much blood to ever let yourself be fully comfortable in a place like this.
“Do you think you could ever be happy here?”
You glanced across the street at the large looming house you had just been in. “Not in there, it’s too big for one person.” He nodded, his fingers drumming a soundless tune against his jeans while he sat with you.
“Went down and saw Ellie while you were cleaning up. She’s making friends.”
You looked at him in astonishment. Hard to believe she was bedridden and being pleasant. He laughed a little and shook his head. “Well, I suppose they were interrogating her more than anything.”
You smiled slightly, “That’s more like it.”
He was looking off at the town, viewing the few distant people you could see. “She’s been asking to come back a lot more. I think she likes movie nights.” You sighed, knowing where this was going. You supposed the change was inevitable, you had just really hoped that you could push it off a little while longer.
You just weren’t ready.
“House is too big for me, too. Maybe it needs two people.” He was already looking at you when you turned to face him. His face didn’t betray anything but a type of tiredness that was set deep in someone’s bones.
You could say no, go off on your own. You’d make it a little while longer but the loneliness would get to you and eventually you’d slip up. Be torn apart or turned.
Besides, you weren’t ready to leave them, leave him. Not yet.
“Yeah, maybe.”
One Year Later
“Morning.”
You groaned at the sound of Joel’s voice, rolling over and covering your head with a pillow. He laughed and you could feel it reverberate through your back where his chest was resting on you.
“Come on, darling. It’s noon, you have to take care of the sheep today.”
You weren’t exactly verbal when you’re woken up abruptly. So you just grumbled-most likely something incredibly rude-under your breath and curled up into a ball.
Joel chuckled again, his arms wrapped around your waist and rolled you over. He dragged you out of the warmth of the blankets and directly back into the sunlit room. “Joel,” you groaned. “Five more minutes.”
“Nope.” He stood up, you still slightly in his arms. He half carried and half dragged you out of bed. You held onto the blankets and kept your eyes closed as long as you could. But when your feet touched the cool wood you conceded that your day had started. Whether you wanted it to or not. “Ugh, you’re a real piece of work. You know that?”
Joel let out a surprised scoff as you walked past him into the bathroom. You could hear him muttering under his breath about who was really the piece of work in this home. But he didn’t say anything to you, just joined you at the sink to brush his teeth.
Sometimes the normalcy was nice. You’d wake up and most days Joel was there next to you. Or he was making you both breakfast, or occasionally a note left next to a plate of food telling you he was out on patrol.
You spent most of your time together, sharing the big old house while Ellie slept in the converted shed out back. But days like today, where he tried to joke with you while he brushed his teeth but his voice was too thick with sleep and you couldn’t understand his accent, they made you ache.
Your heart would pulse painfully and you’d have to look away from him. You shared the same bed, lived in the same house. But you didn’t mean anything to him. You were just an old friend there to keep him warm at night.
You’re pretty sure you’d both been traveling together for so long that it was habit and necessity that kept you together more than anything. You wished, yearned for more from him, but you knew he could never give it to you. You knew it was an impossible ask.
Which made staying with him start to feel more suffocating. You feel like another part of his routine. Something akin to brushing his teeth rather than genuinely wanting you around, a chore. And you couldn’t handle that feeling anymore.
You were drowning in the comfort of Jackson. But you were too much of a coward to ever fully leave him. Too hopeful to let go of that one fleeting feeling that maybe one day you could be more to him.
Joel smiled at you as you made your way downstairs. “I got your lunch, you should probably head out now. You’re already late.”
You took the bag from him, thanking him and left for the sheep. And that night when your shift was over you’d look over at Joel’s house. You’d see him strumming lightly on his guitar as he waited for you and you’d slip out of Jackson’s walls. Unwilling to face another night of heartache that made you feel so ridiculous.
2 Years Later
“Y/N in here? Jesse’s looking for her.”
Joel glanced up from his guitar, he had been tuning it when Ellie’s head popped over his porch rail. “No, haven’t seen her in a couple days.”
He’d known being in Jackson was too much for you. Sometimes when he was getting a drink at the bar he could feel his skin crawling with how many people were surrounding him. His instinct to always be on guard, always be alert, was not easily lost after so many years.
There was the siren’s call of peace here in this town, but he still had to patrol. Still had you, Ellie, and himself to look out for. He could never afford to let himself fully settle into the calm reprieve of Jackson. It would end up screwing him over only when he was outside the safety of the walls.
So he sat, always a curling, burning feeling in his stomach as he tried to untense his shoulders. Join his brother for a ‘family’ dinner. Plaster on as friendly a grimace as he could when his neighbors would wave in the morning.
You were not the same. You didn’t bother with pretending to be happy for Ellie’s comfort. You patrolled near constantly, outside the walls more than you were in. Which set him even more on edge. You’d be gone for days at a time before mysteriously appearing in his bed one morning.
You’d smile then, as genuine a smile you could manage. Every time he’d ask where you’d gone and you would tell him you needed some air. He never asked what you did on the outside, where the bruises came from or what you’d done to earn them.
You would eat breakfast, listen to him strum on his guitar and in a few more days disappear again. He thinks one of these days, now that Ellie’s grown, he might just disappear alongside you. Ellie sighed, “What’s Jesse want with her?” Joel asked.
“He was gonna have her patrol with him today,” she had a shit-eating grin on her face as she propped her head in her hand. “I think he’s got a crush on her.”
Joel barked out a laugh, imagining Jesse pining after someone as disinterested as you. He’s sure he just admires you like he admires Joel. He looks up to you, probably just presents differently. “I’d love to see him try something,” he said through laughter.
Ellie shook her head, walking up the stairs and sitting next to him. “I’m pretty sure he’s terrified of her.”
He shook his head, “Rough combo.” Poor kid probably didn’t realize you weren’t mean, you just had a real bad resting face. “Ya know, I gotta head out soon. I can see if I can find her.”
Ellie perked up, crossing her legs as she leaned back in the rocking chair. “Would you?”
“Sure,” Joel went to place his guitar down but Ellie stopped him.
“What’re you working on?”
“Oh,” he glanced at the instrument and shrugged. He wasn’t sure, really. He’d had to step back from patrolling as much as he used to. The cold was fucking with his back and knees. Made it harder for him to be as fast as he should be. You liked to tease him about it, call him an old man, but he caught you rubbing your shoulder every time it was about to rain.
But without the ability to go on rides or kill infected, he was beginning to feel restless again. An uncomfortable thrumming under his skin that screamed at him to move, do something. So he screwed around with the guitar, tried to sing something, but nothing came out.
He passed it over to Ellie, she immediately propped it on her lap, strumming something soft. “Nothing really, just needed something to do.” He sat with her a little while longer, giving her pointers as she went over some songs she’d been writing.
He groaned as he got off the old rocking chair, saying goodbye to Ellie and heading to the stables. He was sure you were nearby, somewhere in a three mile perimeter of town. You’d been gone about four days, usually you’d be coming back by now.
Tommy was waiting for him as he got his horse. “Partnering up today.”
“Alright,” Joel rode up to the barred gate of Jackson, waiting for the doors to open. “Ellie wanted me to look for Y/N while we’re out here.”
Tommy’s brows furrowed as he glanced at him. “She still gone?”
Joel hummed an affirmative, brushing the hair out of his eyes in irritation. You’d have to cut it again, it had gotten too damn long. He felt like one of the stupid teenage boys in town, always blowing his damn hair out of his face.
“Where’d ya wanna head first?”
“She likes lurking around that old ski resort. We’ll see if she’s there first. If not, I’m sure she’ll pop up soon.”
They rode in silence for a little while before Tommy sighed. Clearly growing bored with the lack of conversation. Joel let his brother suffer, watching in amusement as he shifted back and forth in his saddle and tried to think of what to say.
He finally broke, showing Tommy some mercy. “Jesus, boy, spit it out.”
“It’s just,” Tommy paused, slowing down his mare to match Joel’s slow pace. “It doesn’t bother you?”
“What?”
“Her being out her on her own all the time. I mean, if Maria left as often as Y/N does I’d be losing my mind.”
“Well,” Joel sighed, “I’m a lot tougher than you are.”
Tommy scoffed, glaring at him. “Whatever smartass, I wasn’t screwing around, I want to know.”
“Fine. Don’t know why you’re so damn interested.” Joel shrugged, thinking about it before finally answering. “Yeah, I guess it bothers me, a little. I mean, I’ve known her a long time. I know she can handle herself, I’m not really worried about her dying or nothing. I’m more worried about her just deciding she wants to be gone for good and leaving.”
Tommy was quiet for a bit, leaving Joel uncomfortable. The answer wasn’t very deep. It didn’t share a lot, but it left him feeling a particular shade of vulnerable that had him shifting around. He rolled his shoulders back, focusing on the feeling of snow nipping at his cheeks rather than his younger brother’s nosy stare.
“I woudln’t worry about that.”
“Yeah,” Joel’s voice was curt, snappier than usual. “Why’s that?”
“Well, I don’t fucking know why, but she likes you. Likes Ellie, she might not love Jackson, but she wouldn’t just leave you guys.”
“Since when the hell are you an expert?”
Tommy smirked, “Since I got married.” Joel rolled his eyes, his brother had gotten entirely too smug when he married Maria. Suddenly, being married, made him an expert in anything and everything. He certaintly didn’t know a damn thing about Joel’s love life.
Or lack thereof.
Because you’d never talked about what you were, if you even were anything. That’s probably why it set him on edge so much when you left. You weren’t his to love or keep-honestly he wasn’t sure he was capable of that type of love anymore.
You were friends. Allies more than anything, which was arguably more important in this world. There was nothing to tie you to him or encourage you to stay.
He wasn’t deluded enough to believe you’d stay for Ellie. She was pretty much an adult now, and you’d never been a parent before. You didn’t know what the pain of losing a child was, she wasn’t as important to you as she was to him.
He had no damn idea what had kept you here for so long. But he knew you were getting restless and he didn’t know how to help.
They made it to the ski lodge and immediately leapt off their horses. There were screams coming from inside, screams that sounded a lot like yours. Joel ran for the doors, finger already on the trigger when the doors blew open.
You looked up at him in surprise, “Joel! What’re you doing out here?” He drew back, stopping himself from slamming into you.
His eyes scanned your form, you were covered head to toe in gore. The bandanna pushing your hair back had been a light blue, but now it was completely dyed red. Your jacket was in shreds. But you were still smiling up at him, then Tommy.
“Jesus H Christ woman,” Tommy muttered behind him.
You looked down at yourself, “Oh, yeah.” You sighed and once again were staring at Joel. “Fucking clickers, weren’t here before.”
“Are you alright? Were you bit?”
You waved off Joel’s concern like he was being dramatic. Like you weren’t standing before him covered head to toe in guts. “I’m fine.”
“Dammit,” you jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. He was getting a little louder, voice a little deeper as his frustration grew. He hated when you were this flippant about basic safety. “I told you to stop coming out so much, that we’d been-”
“Seeing more hordes. I know, sorry Joel, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’ll,” you trailed off, your eyes darting around before reluctantly landing back on his. “I promise I’ll stop leaving.”
Joel glanced behind himself, but Tommy had wandered back over to the horses. He was the opposite of subtle as he whistled, clearly giving you as much privacy as he could. Joel turned back towards you and took a step closer.
“I’m not telling you to stop coming out here completely. I don’t want to take that from you.”
You shook your head, stepping closer as you shivered. Joel figured your jacket was in tatters and you were probably freezing your ass off. He took off one of his own coats and draped it over you. “I’m being reckless, risking infecting you and Ellie by coming out so much. Besides, it’s starting to get a little lonely.”
“Well,” Joel gave you a brief smile, “maybe one of these days you should wake me up when you slip away. I’ll come out here with you.”
You grinned, “Think you’d be able to keep up, old man?”
He scoffed, slinging an arm over your shoulder and leading you back to his horse. “Could you?”
You laughed, “With you? Probably not.” He was just about to join you up on Sunny when all three of you heard a strange noise coming up towards the lifts. You had cleared out the resort. So, what could it be?
You hopped off Sunny quickly, pulling out one of your guns and following Tommy and Joel as they went back through the clicker infested hellhole you’d just cleared. The noises got louder, it sounded a lot like feet pounding up the mountain.
You made it outside, near the resort's old supply sheds. You were checking out the area, double checking you didn’t miss any infected. You were about to turn back around when you heard a scream.
You ran towards the source of the noise, watching as a woman was crushed under a swarming body of infested. The only thing separating her from them was a flimsy metal gate. Tommy rushed forward before either you or Joel could stop him. Grabbing her and dragging her out from the bodies.
“Fuck!”
“Tommy!”
Both of you wanted to scream at him. That was such an unbelievably stupid thing to do. She’d had at least fifty infected on top of her, there’s no way she wasn’t bit. But beyond that she was a stranger, you had no idea if she was a piece of shit that would lead raiders right back to Jackson or not.
You didn’t have time to scold him, though, the swarm was screaming, racing towards you all. You ran back into the resort, heart racing as you slammed the doors to the lift closed behind you. “Tommy!” Joel called out, “Help me move this!”
They worked on wheeling a broke down lift towards an open window. You turned towards the hulking woman, “Got a gun?”
She nodded and you tossed her some ammo, “Good. Don’t fucking miss.” You raced throughout the station, trying to keep infected off Tommy and Joel while they moved the lift. But there was only so much you could do. Your rifle had jammed and you had used most of your supplies taking the clickers out earlier.
And these bastards were fast, they seemed faster than normal. Maybe the cold irritated them or something.
You screamed, taken off your feet as a runner threw itself at you. You rolled over, shoving your gun in its mouth and pulling the trigger. Brains splattered onto your face and before you could even roll it off of you there was another one leaping at you.
Before it could sink its teeth in your neck there was the warm feeling of blood trailing down your chest. Joel stood over you, machete buried in the infected’s back as he yanked you to your feet. He didn’t let you walk, grabbing you and practically sending you flying towards Tommy.
You scrambled up the lift and through the window, running towards the horses and mounting Sunny. You grabbed Tommy’s mare and rode the horses back to the open window. You watched the others spill out, keeping an eye out for any more infected and letting Joel hop up in front of you.
Tommy and the woman shared a horse as she screamed out instructions to head towards the old mansion at the top of the mountain. You were too busy keeping infected away from your group to fully realize where you were going until it was too late.
You were already through the gates of the mansion, infected being set on fire behind you when you grasped the situation at hand.
You’d just wandered into some stranger’s camp, nearly completely empty on ammo, battered and tired. You didn’t know who she was or who her people were. Joel and Tommy seemed to be realizing that too, each of them tensing up as they got off the horses.
“Thanks for the help back there. I’m Abby.”
Joel offered you a hand down, you hopped off Sunny and glanced around the garage. You were definitely fucking outnumbered and they had way more ammo than you.
You hid slightly behind Joel, taking in the amount of people and trying to gauge how many guns were in the garage. Your eye snagged on a lone shotgun on a workstation and the bullets surrounding it.
“I’m Tommy, this is my brother Joel…” Tommy’s voice trailed off before he could introduce you. Instantly everyone in the room had turned to stare at Joel, and every single one of them looked hostile. Like he’d punched each of them in the face at one point.
And honestly with the amount of people he’s screwed over you wouldn’t be surprised. Still, this was not promising.
Joel tensed up in front of you, nudging you slightly behind Sunny. You ducked behind her, hoping to go unnoticed by the rest of them and praying that Sunny didn’t buck out at you.
Abby sucked on her teeth. She stared at Joel for a long minute before nodding her head towards the door and heading up the stairs. “Joel,” you whispered.
He shook his head, subtly waving you back into place as he was forced to follow the others up the stairs. You watched them herd him and Tommy out, one of the men in the back checked his ammo was loaded and you felt your throat seize in panic.
Shit shitshitshitshitshit
Okay, this turned into a clusterfuck so insanely fast. You waited until every set of footsteps was a distant echo to move out from behind the horses. You were nearly out the door when you double backed for the shotgun.
You heard a shout from upstairs, your head whipping towards the open door. You raced up the stairs, “Tommy!” It was Joel shouting, panic lacing his voice.
You can never say what happened next exactly. You made it up the stairs, heard the sound of a shotgun being cocked and you’d never run that fast in your life.
The door to the room was open, all you could see was Abby with a gun in hand, pointing it towards Joel. Your finger was on the trigger before you could even aim properly. The shot missed, hitting the wall behind her, grazing her back slightly.
But it caused enough of a distraction, Joel wrenched the gun from her grasp, using the butt of it to knock her out. You shot at one of the men pinning Tommy down, it caught him in the side and he dropped to the ground. Crimson pooling out around him.
The room went quiet, each of them staring at their dead comrade. “You cunt,” the woman leapt at you, knife raised in the air. You didn’t notice her protruding stomach until you had pulled the trigger. Her legs flew out from under her, nearly completely blown off from the shotgun blast.
There was a primal sound of pain. One you’d heard many times in your life. It came from two directions, the pregnant woman bleeding out on the ground and the man who was now flying at you.
He knocked you to the ground. You wrestled for control of the shotgun, his hips pinning your pelvis painfully to the floor. You groaned out in pain and panic, shoving all your weight into the gun, bringing it up to catch him in the jaw. His head knocked to the side and you shoved him off of you.
Shots were firing all around you, different screams and insults flying past your head. You were tuning in and out, ears ringing as you wrapped your arms around the man’s neck. You pulled until it snapped. When you were done you swiped his pistol from his holster, stepping over the twitching woman below you.
There were only three people left when you walked back into the room, Tommy and Joel disposed of them quickly while you grabbed some rope and tied up Abby. She was still knocked out, a bad bruise forming on her head. You can imagine her day was going to get a lot worse when she woke up and saw the carnage around her.
It was a slaughter, each of her friend’s lay brutally destroyed at her feet.
But, it was their own damn fault. They shouldn’t have tried and fucked with you all.
“Are you okay?” It was your turn to fuss over Joel. He had clearly been their target. It had to have been someone you’d screwed over, Joel had screwed over. But the list was too long and you’d never seen this woman before.
Joel nodded, but there was blood soaking through his jacket. You ignored his protests, ripping the jacket off and inspecting the wound. It wasn’t anything too bad, a bullet must have just skimmed his bicep. You wrapped it up pretty quickly, then you let your head fall to his chest.
He chuckled slightly, his hand coming behind you to rest on your back. “You okay?”
“I was scared.”
Your voice was quiet, quiet enough that you almost hoped he had missed your small confession. “What?”
His hand had stilled before it moved up your back and lightly cupped your neck. He tilted your head back so you had to look at him, had to make eye contact. “I was scared.” You huffed out, nearly ashamed at presenting yourself like this to him.
You didn’t get scared, the entire time you’ve known him you’ve each been fighting for your lives. This wasn’t anything new. But something about this really got to you. It felt more final this time. “They were after you, Joel. Had a gun pointed to your head.”
“I always have a gun pointed at my head, darling. Comes with the territory.” You rolled your eyes and stepped away from him, ignoring the way his hand lingered on your cheek for a moment before it dropped to his side.
The door behind you all flew open and all three guns were pointed at the intruder. Ellie raised her hands and stumbled back in shock at the sight of the dead bodies around you all. “Holy shit. What the fuck happened?”
You sighed and lowered your gun, Tommy and Joel doing the same. “Ellie, head back to Dina,” you instructed. You were going to have to get some information from Abby, you were sure Joel didn’t want her to see the methods about to be used.
Ellie opened her mouth to argue but Joel cut her off. “Do as she says, Ellie. Head back to the others and say everything’s fine and that we’ll be back soon.”
She seemed like she wanted to stay, desperately. Instead she conceded and closed the door behind her as she left. You, Joel, and Tommy each shared a look before you got to work.
Abby was tied up in a chair, you’d wrapped her up more than you would have with anyone else, mainly because her biceps were the size of your head.
When she finally woke up, she immediately started screaming. You’d moved the bodies of her friends, propping them up in front of her so they were the first thing she saw when she woke up.
Tommy had left for Jackson, made sure no one would suspect why you and Joel were gone for so long. Now you were sitting on a table behind Abby while Joel started. “What are you doing here?”
“Fuck you,” she spat.
Joel sighed and tried again, “Does anyone else know you’re here?”
Same response. It happened a few more times, she was unphased by anything Joel did to her. Just telling him to fuck off more times than you could count. You got sick of it after a while.
You hadn’t had to torture anyone in a couple years, you were hoping to just get this over with as quickly as possible. You stood up and Joel let go of Abby’s chair, backing away from her.
“My partner,” you started, “prefers brute force to get the answers he wants. Me,” you stood in front of Abby and pulled out your hunting knife. “I’m a little more creative.”
You dug the knife into her skin, peeling back a layer or two of epidermis and ignoring the way she screamed. Twenty years ago, you might have felt guilty for this. Now, she’d tried to hurt Joel, she’d brought this on herself.
Five pulled nails and a lot of skin later she finally squealed. No one knew they were out here. They were stationed in Seattle and wouldn’t come looking. Joel had killed her father, the doctor from the hospital, and she wanted revenge.
You rolled your eyes, pointing out the hypocrisy of her actions. How many fathers had she killed on her way here to get to Joel. How many lives had she taken to protect someone she loved. When she tried to argue you slit her throat and dragged the bodies to be put in the pile of burned infested.
“Damn.” You sat behind Joel on Sunny, watching the bodies go up in flames. He turned her around, heading back towards Jackson. “What a way to start the day.”
The bed was empty when Joel woke up. He felt surprised, usually you gave him a few days before you left again. But before he could linger on the thought for too long the door to the bedroom was opening and you were walking in. Your back was to him, you were carrying something in your hands.
When you turned around you frowned when you saw him already waiting for you. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“What are you doing?”
You swatted him away when he stood and tried to help you carry the tray in the room. You put it on the nightstand and shoved him back in bed. He could have resisted, pushed against you, but he let himself fall as he chuckled at the determined look on your face.
You hummed and shrugged your shoulders, placing the tray in his lap. “Thought I’d bring you breakfast.” He glanced down, a plate with a stack of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Most importantly; coffee.
“Where the hell’d you get all this?” You didn’t answer, just had a mischievous little smirk on your face while you tidied up the room. Joel caught your wrist as you passed him, he tugged you into bed next to him, careful not to spill the tray. “Come on, help me out with all this. Can’t eat it all on my own.”
He could, and would do so eagerly. But it had been a while since he’d eaten breakfast without you rushing out the door. And for once, he was feeling domestic without the crushing weight of guilt turning the taste of your pancakes bitter in his mouth. He wanted to enjoy this, however long it lasted.
You didn’t bother arguing, picking off some of his food while you both sat in contented silence. Eventually you broke it, sitting at the end of the bed so you could face him while he sipped on his coffee.
Lord, he had missed the taste of caffeine.
“Where are you working today?”
“Promised Bob I’d help him out with shoeing the horses today. You?”
“Helping Maria with fixing up that new classroom in school.”
“You're not leaving? You've been hangin’ around here a lot.”
He knew instantly he shouldn’t have opened his mouth.
What once had been easy silence instantly turned tense. The warm sun that had filtered through the blinds was right in his eyes and causing a headache. The sheets were scratchy and that blank look on your face was oppressive.
Your easygoing smile, one he hadn’t seen in a long time, dropped from your face and you shifted uncomfortably on top of the comforter. “Yeah, guess you're right.”
“Didn’t mean it like-”
You stood up, patting his leg with an awkward stiltedness and moved to the closet. “I should head out, promised Maria we’d get it done by end of day.”
He knew what he said had been wrong, but he wasn’t completely sure what about it was so wrong. He watched you leave without another word and sighed to himself, getting out of bed and forcing himself from the comfort of the house.
He’d only had a moment, one singular moment, where he’d finally been able to relax for once. And he didn’t feel restless, or anxious, or guilty about it. He’d felt at ease, a feeling so foreign it was halfway through the day before he’d finally been able to identify it.
He was in the middle of cleaning Sunny’s hoof and he’d nearly gotten kicked in the face with his distraction.
But he didn’t have any sort of epiphany over what could have possibly upset you so much.
A normal person, not you apparently, would be completely unbothered by Joel’s question. Because that’s all it was. A question, a simple, understandable, inquiry about why someone as flighty as you had been in one place for so long.
Still it stung. He’d said with a tone like ‘Why the hell are you still in my house?’ And in a crazy, uber-paranoid-lady way, it was confirmation of what you were to him. You were a daily task, necessity, and required comfort, but you were not something permanent. And you’d deluded yourself into believing you were something more. Your own fault, not something to place on Joel’s shoulders.
Still, the bitter taste of rejection was a hard one to get off the tongue.
“God, I’m insane.”
“What was that?”
You glanced up at Maria, momentarily having forgotten you weren’t alone. “Um, nothing, sorry.” You let yourself get lost in the repetitive motion of painting the walls of the classroom. Using old stencils they’d found or created to do a row of ABC’s and numbers along the perimeter of the wall.
How is this what you turned into?
You’d gone from a deadbeat smuggler who’d kill without a second thought to someone painting an elementary classroom worrying about boys.
Well, men, you supposed. Seemed unfair to put Joel in the same category as someone like Jesse.
Even though you were sure that Jesse would never make you feel like a chore instead of a person.
Annnnnd… new low reached, considering Jesse as a viable option for dating. Damn, you needed a hobby or something.
Around noon Tommy stopped by, he had sandwiches from Seth and you didn’t want to think about the lengths he’d gone through to get them from the cantankerous old asshole.
“So,” there was a certain tone of voice Tommy would get when he was about to meddle in someone’s business. You stopped midchew to stare at him in suspicion while he smirked. Maria eyed her husband and simply sighed, resigned to let him interrogate you. “You and Joel.”
You huffed, swallowing the rest of your food and throwing the sandwich down on the plate next to you. “This was a bribe wasn’t it?”
He laughed, “Yep.”
It was interesting to you how different Joel and Tommy were. Joel’s accent was gruff, commanding, most times hard to understand. Especially when he was pissed off. Tommy had a lightness to him the both of you lacked. You assumed it came from Jackson, he’d been here a lot longer than either of you. And he’d also found Maria.
He also didn’t know how to butt out. A skill Joel, thankfully, understood. “Just curious about you two. You know, Joel’s seemed a lot happier in Jackson now that you’ve been around longer than a week.”
“Well, I think he’s getting a little sick of me.”
Tommy frowned, “Why’s that?”
You shrugged, taking another bite before answering. “I don’t know, just something he said this morning.”
“What’d he say?”
“Damn, Tommy, I can’t remember. It was how he said it, I guess.” You huffed and glared at him, “Look we’re not your new version of the bachelor, alright. Butt out.”
Maria opened her mouth, probably to scold you for being a bitch. Tommy held up a hand and shook his head. “Alright, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“That’s it?” You asked, watching as he finished his sandwich and wiped his hands on his jeans.
“Yep,” he leaned over to kiss Maria on the cheek and gave you a strong pat on the back. “That’s it. Message received, I’ll just butt out now.”
Both you and Maria watched him go, a suspicious look on both of your faces as he went. Tommy never gave up that easy, ever. “You know he’s up to something, right?”
You glanced over at Maria, sighing as you picked up your paintbrush again. “I know.”
The answer to what exactly he’d been planning came three days later.
Despite yourself and your feelings of rejection, you’d stayed in Jackson. You’d been paranoid since the run in with Abby and her people. It was dangerous for Joel to stay in one place, word would spread and old enemies would know where to find him.
That thought plagued you every time you glanced at the door out of Jackson. If something happened while you were gone and pouting over something petty, you’d never forgive yourself.
But you did put some distance between you and Joel. Staying in the guest room instead of his, not bringing him breakfast like some wife from the fifties. You’d put up boundaries where there weren’t any before, determined not to be used as some sort of daily comfort.
And if Joel had anything against these new unsaid rules, he didn’t react. Which kind of pissed you off more. Trust, if there was a therapist you would see one. You’re aware your train of thinking isn’t what most would consider healthy.
But there isn’t, so you just force yourself to push it down everyday and keep going. Like you always have. It wasn’t until you got here that rejections or emotions meant anything to you. This place was making you too damn soft.
Tommy dropped by one night and invited both you and Joel over to his for dinner and Joel had accepted before you could say no.
There wasn’t much you could bring over, you couldn’t cook and didn’t feel like burning down the kitchen trying. So you stole some flowers from the garden of the mean old lady that lived next to you while Joel kept watch.
Maria and Tommy’s house wasn’t too far from you and Joel, but god, walking next to him you’d think they lived a mile away.
“You know, foods gonna be gone by the time we get there.”
Joel huffed out a short laugh. “We got time. Feel like you’re always tryna rush off lately.” You didn’t have an answer for him, not one that wouldn’t reveal why you didn’t want to be alone with him. So you just shrugged.
You could feel him staring at you, eyes drilling holes in the back of your head, but you refused to say anything. “How’s the guest room?”
The question caught you off guard, you stumbled over your own feet for a second before turning around to face him. “Uh, fine. Bed’s smaller, I guess. But I don’t have a giant hogging the sheets,” you attempted to smile at him. But he didn’t seem to find anything funny about your response.
His brows were furrowed, lips set in a pissy sort of line. You finally caught on to the undertones of anger in his voice. The special sort of gruffness that only comes out when he’s pissed off.
“Why?”
He shrugged, “Just wondering.” And that was it. He brushed past where you’d stopped walking to face him. His shoulder clipping you as he did and was walking off to Tommy’s, leaving you behind.
You scoffed at the attitude. Not entirely sure what you’d done to deserve it and followed after him. The both of you finished the walk in angered silence, neither one of you aware why the other was so angry. You just were.
When Tommy opened the door the smile on his face quickly turned into a smirk. “There you two are. Trouble in paradise?”
You shoved the flowers into his chest and stormed past him. “For Maria.”
You heard Joel mutter the same thing you’d told Tommy a few days ago. “Butt out.”
Maria was in the kitchen, finishing off whatever meat she’d decided to cook for you all tonight. You’d gotten so used to the QZ’s strange square ration bars, sometimes you struggled actually identifying real food.
You helped her set the table, ignoring the stares of both men on your back and were about to sit down… When Tommy literally dove under you to force you to sit next to Joel.
You glared at him while you circled the table, throwing yourself down into the chair and sighing at the self-satisfied look on his face. “Your brother’s insufferable.”
Joel grumbled but didn’t say anything. So you were getting the silent treatment now. Really?
Fucking child.
“Alright, dinner is served.” Maria placed the roast on the table and took a seat beside Tommy, smiling at you all. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care how tense it was on your and Joel’s side.
“Thank you, Maria.”
You forced a smile, not one to let Joel be the only one with manners. “Yes, thank you, Maria.” She hummed, carving into the roast and taking a slice for herself and Tommy. You reached for the knife and fork but Joel beat you to it.
He cut off a portion and dropped it down on your plate, the mash potatoes spreading slightly at the impact. You sighed, muttering a belligerent thank you and took a bite.
Couldn’t help himself could he? Always the Texan gentleman.
It was infuriating.
For a few minutes there was only the sound of metal scraping porcelain. And you felt bad, honestly, Maria and Tommy invited you both over for a nice dinner and you were pouting like toddlers.
You weren’t even sure why you were upset with each other!
Obviously, you were still stinging from Joel’s use of your “relationship.” But you had no clue what had crawled up his ass and died. “Can you pass the bread?”
You looked up from your plate, staring at the side of Joel’s head. He continued to shovel food in his face. “Joel?” Nothing, not even a twitch.
You reached across from him, purposefully shoving your arm in front of him so he couldn’t eat the bite on his fork and grabbed the bread basket. “Ain’t got manners, now?” He growled at you, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Says you,” you hissed back. This was devolving into childish anger so quickly. And you didn’t know why!
God, what was his problem?
“So,” Tommy started and you were startled out of your glaring match with Joel. “Y/N, you know Bob?”
You slowly turned away from Joel and nodded. “Yeah, the horse guy.”
“Yeah, he’s been asking about you.” Tommy took another bite of food and shrugged, “Told him you were free this Saturday.”
You ignored Joel’s fork clanking loudly against his plate and shook your head. “No I’m not. I’m patrolling with Joel.”
Tommy waved you off, “Nah, don’t worry about it. You need to get out more anyway. Socialize some.”
“Tommy,” Joel started. His voice was low, an unspoken warning lacing it. “You need to stop meddling.”
“What? You’ve got a problem with a little date, Joel?”
You glanced between the two, hidden in their stares was a secret language only the brothers were privy to. There was a tense silence before Joel was picking his fork back up and eating, refusing to make eye contact with anyone at the table.
“Not interested, Tommy. Thanks though.” It would feel wrong going on some blind date like you weren’t currently pining over the man you lived with. Besides, you were past the period of life where you wanted to ‘date.’ About one apocalypse past it.
“Too bad, you’re going.” You opened your mouth to argue but both Tommy and Maria were leveling you with glares that allowed no room for negotiation. Since when did Maria join him in these ridiculous schemes?
“We’re having our harvest festival this weekend,” Maria stated. “Bob will accompany you.”
The rest of dinner was spent with Tommy and Maria blabbering away while you and Joel fumed in your seats. You didn’t know his reason but you were pretty pissed off you were being forced into a date.
One, you were planning on skipping the stupid fucking harvest thing. It was a waste of resources and you didn’t understand why they clung to old traditions so desperately.
Two, you didn’t want to go on a date. The only man you wanted to be with was sitting next to you and currently taking his anger out on a piece of bread.
You let your mind fade into the background. Your eyes tracked the movements of Joel’s hands while he ate, no longer hearing Tommy and Maria. Until you blinked and dinner was over and Joel was waiting for you by the door.
You nearly jumped at how loudly Joel slammed the door closed. You toed your boots off, watching him throw his jacket on the kitchen chair and reach for the bottle of whiskey on the counter. He ignored you, heading up the stairs and into his office.
You took in a deep breath, trying to shake off the funk from the last couple of days. Slowly you made your way up the stairs, knocking on the doorframe to his office.
He was just sitting in his chair, staring at the guitar on his desk. There was a glass of amber liquor in his hand, but he wasn’t making any moves to drink more. “Wanna talk?”
“‘Bout what?” He placed the glass on the table and picked up the new strings for his guitar.
“I don’t know,” you walked in and sat down on the stool next to him. “You’ve seemed off since we left for Tommy’s.”
His finger drummed across the denim of his jeans. He stared through the window, the lights of Jackson casting a warm glow over his face.
If you tilted your head just right it softened him. The scars faded, the only wrinkles you could see were smile lines and you could see a shadow of the man he once was. The father, brother, contractor, someone long lost to the cruelties of time and the world outside these walls.
“A date,” he scoffed. “My brother never knows when to stop, does he?” You didn’t bother answering. You know he wasn’t talking to you, just thinking out loud.
You propped your elbow on his desk, resting your head while you waited for him to collect his thoughts. He let out a long sigh, his eyes on the guitar while he addressed you.
“You drive me insane, you know that?”
“I’m aware.”
He cracked, his lips lifting slightly at the corners. Barely a smile, but it was better than nothing. “I think I’ve got you figured out. Think I finally understand how this,” he gestures between the two of you, “works. Then you disappear, or bring me breakfast, or you suddenly leave and start sleeping in another bed and I’m lost all over again.”
You shifted in your seat, fiddling with your nails, trying to figure out what he meant. If either of you were confused, it was you. “What’re you talking ‘bout, Joel?”
He sighed and finally looked at you, “Talkin’ about us. I’m talking about how infuriating you are.”
Your brows furrowed, scoffing slightly at the tone of his voice. He was still angry, for no damn reason. You stood up, ready to leave, when his hand wrapped around your wrist. “Didn’t say I was done, sweetheart.”
You gasped when he tugged you down. You landed in his lap, his legs spreading to accommodate you. “Joel what’re you doing?”
“Something I’ve been putting off for too damn long.”
Fireworks don’t go off somewhere in the distance and the world doesn’t stop. But your heart races and your body tingles when you taste the whiskey on his lips. You become hyper aware of each individual strand when his hand comes up to bury itself in your hair.
And when your lips part to let him in you swear you’ve never felt like this before. Your body is working like you’re running from something, getting ready to fight something off, but it’s the first time in a while your mind is completely calm.
You shift, your legs wrapping around his waist as a blanket of calm drapes itself over you. It rushes through you like a raging river, shutting everything unnecessary down.
You don’t worry if you’re too out of practice, not having kissed anyone in a long while. You don’t think about if you're too stiff on his lap. You run your hands over his chest, squeezing the muscles of his arms and then letting them delve into his hair.
At a certain point, you’ll have to breathe. You’ll have to talk about what this means for the two of you. But for right now you’re content, at ease, happy to just live the rest of your days in this moment.
Kissing Joel Miller like there’s nothing outside these walls, no other purpose but to be with him.
part two
end. — I do not own the characters or the game The Last Of Us, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
TAGLIST: @chrysanthemum-00 @marimarvelfan
More Posts from Not-neverland06 and Others
you are my absolute favorite logan writer <333
you guys are making me blush stawwwp
(don't stop)
I seem like a stalker bc of how quick I liked this. But I was on tumblr when the notif popped up and THIS IS AMAZING!! I’m so happy my writing could give you motivation for this ♥️
Thank you for your service @not-neverland06 please accept my self insert fanart of "How About A Nuke?" 💚
Quick question what are Flux abilities? I keep thinking it’s atomic manipulation or matter manipulation but I could be wrong.
Also your writing is immaculate and stupendous. The angst brings me physical pain everytime I read something of yours but then I get happy but I still feel petty about the hurt he’s caused along the way😤
I'm including you both in this answer so I don't post this twice on accident.
SO 👏 the reason so many seemed to be confused about Flux's powers is simple. I don't fucking know what they are either. As I stated many times when I first started making my Logan stuff, I'm not good at superheroes.
When I started making the X-Man persona I thought, I want someone who is really powerful, but not to the point that it's shoving it down your throat. I wanted cool powers but not "oh, she can beat Jean and Charles and Magneto and she's basically a goddess". Fanfic like that is icky to me.
That's why she has "power" meltdowns, where she loses control because that keeps her humble. Her powers are essentially matter/atom manipulation. I'm not a scientist and I felt like putting exactly one google search into this so- essentially, she can manipulate anything that contains atoms/matter which is everything.
None of this is going to make sense ohmygod
In my mind, she mainly focuses her powers on shifting things between the three states, liquid, gaseous, and solid forms. Her powers are just manipulating the world around her, (I recommend googling matter manipulation superheroes bc it's not as uncommon as I thought)
She has power meltdowns because she has to constantly be in control of her powers. She has to make sure in a fit of anger she doesn't accidentally kill herself or those around her. She's constantly in a state of keeping herself in check and making sure she's not - without realizing it - hurting those around her. That's why she has those cuffs in some fics that dampen her powers because it's so volatile and she can't control them.
HOPE THIS MADE SENSE
as i've said before, i've got not fucking clue what I'm doing
I just discovered you not too long ago but you are probably one of my top favorite writers rn
Its like you live in my brain. Im never embarrassed by what you make the reader say or do. dont even get me started on how delicious your angst is. I am a retired angst connoisseur and the way in which you write it brings me back to when i first discovered the sweet masochistic itch that had never been properly scratched.
Tldr your writing tickles my brain in all of its folds <3
I can't express to you how much I needed to read this. I've had the worst week of just shit compounding on shit and have officially understood what exactly the ao3 curse is because WTF is happening to me.
Anyway, this was so wonderful to read even if it seems like such a simple little thing. I want you to know how important messages like these are to authors. Thank you so much for your support and I'll continue to do my best not to embarrass you <33333
I want you to know I’m genuinely so proud of you for being able to find the motivation to put out the last chapter. Depression can be a bitch and a half, and congrats on making it through one of the worst months for it. The fact you still pushed through to be able to write shows how strong and talented you are. 🫶
Also this last chapter was SO well written, you write Arthur so perfectly!!
Oh, gosh, this means the world to me. It's always nice to have words of support, but especially when it's from someone who's practically a stranger. It speaks a lot to your character that you're so kind. I know I've seen you commenting on the story before and I want you to know how genuinely motivating that is when you're in a funk like I was.
I'm so glad you enjoyed the chapter! I can't tell you how many times I came close to just abandoning the fic because it was making me so frustrated. Rewriting it all from Arthur's perspective was definitely super helpful and a lot of fun. I'm happy that you think I captured his character properly, it's always important to me to not make someone as beloved as he is OOC. (An epilogue is in the making btw 🫶)
Part five posted!
big bad wolf
Logan Howlett x fem!reader
a/n: inspired by the fact that Hugh Jackman thought wolverines were just a type of wolf and no one corrected him. Rusty because I haven’t written smut in a while so you guys aren’t allowed to talk any shit. Plus, I’m too much of a wimp to be like extremely explicit, but these prompts ( one, two, three) together were too good to pass up.
SMUT 18+ (my slight monsterfucker tendencies might shine through in this one)
Summary: Logan's told you a million times not to take the path through the woods. You never listen, of course. Now there's a monster on your tail and you're all alone. (part of my Halloween Palooza)
You never should have taken this path. You knew it was going to happen, Logan had warned you, and you still didn’t listen. Now, you’re in the middle of the woods, completely turned around and on the verge of tears. God, why do you never listen?
You put your groceries down and pull out your phone. Through the thick spread of leaves, you get minimal moonlight. You’re surrounded by shifting shadows and rustling undergrowth. Everywhere you turn is a monster waiting to leap out at you.
When you were little you were petrified of the dark. You hated the shapes you saw lurking within it. You’d outgrown that as an adult, but now, you can barely breathe as your eyes dart all around. The childish fear is returned with a vengeance and you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack.
You flip open your phone, squatting on the ground and trying to conserve your body's warmth. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees since you left the house. Of course, Logan had told you to bring a jacket too. Did you listen? No.
You were only going out to get some chips and dip, you really didn’t think it would take so long. But then you’d got caught up talking to one of your friends and before you knew it, it was pitch black outside. You should have just called Logan at the store, asked him for a ride. Now, you’re staring down at the flickering screen of your flip phone and about to sob as you see the bars disappearing.
“No fucking service, of course,” you hiss and shove the phone back in your pocket. The battery’s nearly dead anyway. You doubt it would have lasted long enough for a phone call. You run a stressed hand over your face, trying to calm your breathing down.
You’re trying to trick yourself into thinking that everything’s okay. That the shadows are just shadows and you’re scared. Then you hear it.
It’s a low noise, something out of your worst nightmares. There’s an immediate spike of adrenaline as an inhuman growl echoes through the night air. You swear you can feel it inside your chest. It rumbles through the animal, bursts through clenched fangs, and makes the hair on your neck stand on end.
You glance over your shoulder, mouth parted in a silent scream. You don’t see anything, you can’t. You just barely make out the branches shifting nearby before you’re leaping to your feet. You almost call out, see whose there, but that feels like the last move every bimbo makes in a horror movie.
So, you do something arguably worse. You abandon your groceries and purse and bolt. Immediately you can hear its pounding footsteps chasing after you. You do scream now, there’s no point in swallowing it down. It’s like the terror is ripping through you, making you stumble over every branch and rock in your path.
You know it's faster than you. You can hear how easily its keeping up its stride behind you. This feels like a game to it. It's just teasing you, dangling freedom in front of its prey before it closes its drooling maw around your neck.
You trip over an enlarged root and go flying forward. Rocks scrape across your arm and you let out a short shriek of pain. The flesh tears easily on the sharp points and the metallic scent of your blood fills the air. It comes to a sudden stop a few feet away from you. There are no thoughts in your head besides the voice screaming at you to RUN!
It tells you to keep running. If you stop it will catch you and it will kill you. This is no longer a product of your imagination. This is real and it is hungry for you. You scramble to your feet, boots slipping along the muddy forest floor. You dig your fingers into the earth, feel the dirt slide under your nails, and launch yourself forward. You nearly flip your feet over your head but you manage to keep yourself steady.
You can’t hear the steps behind you. The beat of your heart pounds through your head, drives you forward, and discombobulates you all the same. Blood rushes so quickly beneath your skin that you can feel your vessels swelling with the warmth of your terror-fueled adrenaline.
You’ve never felt so inferior before, like a rabbit desperately trying to escape the hungry jaws of a wolf. Your legs are moving faster than they ever have, you’re bounding, racing, leaping through the forest. You move through it like you were born in it, anything to escape whatever was following you.
You no longer remember the way home or what home is. You can only focus on right now. You don’t notice the dark shape running alongside you, or how easily it keeps pace. Not until it’s barreling into your side and you go slamming into the ground again. Your head nearly bounces against a rock but something slides underneath it, stopping the impact at the last second.
Something rough grips at your face. You’re still blind, blood rushing so hard beneath your skin, you’re practically blind with panic. You bite down, taste flesh, and hold on until blood rushes into your mouth. The metallic tang of it is like poison against your tongue but you don’t let go.
“Release!” He orders you like a dog. His voice is so thick with anger and hunger that you barely recognize it. But something clicks in your head and you unlock your jaw from his palm. “The fuck have I told you about taking this path?” Again, his voice is so thick with volatile rage that you barely register it.
“Sorry,” you sob out, shoving at his chest and scrambling to sit up. But he keeps you pinned to the ground, one hand clamped tightly around your neck and the other pushing down against your stomach. You can feel something hard against your thigh but you pay it no mind, still struggling to catch your breath.
You take in deep, heaving, gasps of air and the moon shifts overhead. It gives you just enough light to see Logan clearly now. You nearly choke at the sight of his face. His lips are peeled back, sharpened points of teeth causing blood to bead along his lower lips. His beard seems scruffier than normal and there’s a golden glow to his eyes.
“What the fuck?” You stutter out, glaring up at him. You’ve seen him angry before. But you’ve never seen him quite so animalistic. “Logan?” You whisper his name hesitantly and it only makes him look more pissed off. You shrink back, though there’s not far to go with him holding you like this.
His hips shift down and you bite down on your lip so a pathetic whimper doesn’t escape you. His head tilts curiously, gaze raking over your heaving chest and then down to the too-short shorts you’d put on earlier.
He gives you a look of astonished disbelief, “You fuckin’ kidding me?”
The hand on your stomach drifts down to the waistband of your shorts. Your eyes widen when you realize what he’s trying to do. “Logan, wait-” Too late. He rips the shorts down your legs and his eyes widen. The sneer of his lips finally melts away as he sees the clear wet spot in the middle of your underwear.
You don’t even get a chance to defend yourself before he’s gripping your hips and flipping you over. Your hands struggle for purchase on the slippery rock in front of you. You try and glance back at him, but he buries a hand in your hair, tugging harshly, and forcing your face forward.
“Logan, please,” you whine, thoroughly humiliated as he sits behind you, silently examining your battered form. You’d tripped more than you thought while you’d been running from him. The adrenaline has just barely waned enough for you to feel the bruises forming. But he has no sympathy for your plight, if anything your tears seem to egg him on.
“What have I told you about taking this path?” You bite your tongue, a sudden refusal to answer raging forth. He’s got you half-naked on your hands and knees after chasing you through the woods. You shouldn’t have to be scolded like an imbecile on top of that.
He leans over you, the weight of his body pushing forward, your arms strain to keep you both up. You grit your teeth, still keeping your mouth clamped shut. He chuckles, the noise so low you feel it rattling through you rather than hear it. “I could hear you.”
His hand drifts down your bicep, wraps around your front, and rests over your breasts. “Could hear how fast your heart was beating. It’s still about to come out of your chest.” You suck in a sharp breath, keeping yourself from arching into his touch.
His nose lingers against the side of your head, dipping towards your neck and inhaling deeply. Your face wrinkles in confusion as he practically smells you. “I can smell how terrified you were.” His hand suddenly jerks your head back and you can’t help but yelp. There’s a smirk on his lips as he finally gets a noise from you.
You can feel the desire practically dripping down your thighs at this point. All you can think about is how powerful he is. How hungry he is for you. You want him to devour you, completely wreck you.
He releases you and without his support, you slump forward, neck bowing awkwardly. You try and right yourself but one of his hands grips your neck so tight you can feel the blood rushing up into your face. He pins you there and the only warning you have of what he’s about to do is the sound of his belt buckle coming undone.
He thrusts into you and your jaw drops. You inhale the dirt beneath you and it tastes remarkably like blood. He pushes your cheek further into the ground and you grunt as tiny little pebbles have their taste of your flesh.
Had you not been so wet, you doubt you would have enjoyed a second of this. But, because his chasing you down like something feral made you more aroused than you have been in months, you let out a pathetic moan beneath him. It borders on the thin line between pain and pleasure. But each rough thrust inside you blurs the line until they’re indiscernible from one another.
Your fists curl up, mud sticking in the lines of your palm as he takes you like you’re nothing more than a toy. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like how used you feel. But you relish it. Relish in how crazy you make him, to the point that he’d lose his mind and use you like this.
He’s like a fucking animal. Taking what he wants from you with no concern or care to whether you like it or not. He’s panting and grunting behind you, you don’t understand the insults spewing from his mouth because there’s blood rushing in your ears and you feel like you might pass out.
The adrenaline and residual terror from earlier are building into one explosive moment inside you. Your fingers tremble with it, your limbs burn from the volatile feeling and you can’t help the noises being forced out of you. It doesn’t take much longer for you to combust.
Pleasure rushes through you, makes you numb to the world around you. A dulled tickling feeling rushes through every part of you. Your arms go limp and he’s quick to wrap a hand around your waist, keeping you upright. He presses into your lower back, arching it until he’s hitting the spot inside you that causes aftershocks of painful pleasure.
Your core throbs as you pulse around him. Sucking him deeper until his hips come to an erratic stop and he spills inside you. You keep your forehead pressed to the cool earth beneath you. You never actually managed to catch your breath before and now it just feels like you’re five seconds away from hyperventilating.
A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, he curls around you and helps you to sit up. His voice is a low whisper, “You alright?”
You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and giving him a shaky nod. He laughs and pulls you to stand up. Your legs were limp from running earlier, now they’re practically boneless. He keeps you propped against him and pulls your shorts back up.
He buttons his jeans and straightens. His eyes narrow as he glares down at you. He cups your chin, tilting your head to examine the scratches on your cheeks and tutting at you. His fingers tighten to the point of pain and he jerks your face up to meet his eyes. “You gonna come down this path again?”
After that, yes. You completely would. He sees the look on your face and rolls his eyes. He leans down, tossing you over his shoulder and groaning. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“You like it,” you taunt, tugging at his shirt for balance.
He shakes his head but you know he’s smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“Same time next week?” You tease as he goes back for your groceries and purse.
“Don’t push it,” he snaps.
end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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hi!! Given my obsession for Hugh jackman I am CRAVING for some Leopold X reader (from Kate & Leopold)! Maybe with some little angst but happy ending??
I love your blog!! Have a wonderful day 😽💐💓
Leopold Mountbatten x fem!reader a/n: I don’t know how controversial this is going to be and I don’t care. I could never finish the movie because I hated Meg Ryan in it so much. It’s so odd, I’ve loved her in everything else she’s been in but she made it such a hard watch. Maybe it’s because she reminds me of my grandma in the worst way lol, but I finished it for you anon sorry this was a little rushed Anyways, hope you enjoy lovelies Summary: Your neighbor went back in time and dragged someone back with him. He's irritatingly polite and far too interested in your way of life. What are you meant to do when you fall for a man who was never even supposed to meet you?
“Hello, madam, please I need your help!”
You’re used to crazies, it is New York after all. But they’re not usually shouting at you through your window. Especially not when you’re on the sixth floor. You look away from your coffee and glance towards the fire escape.
There’s an oddly dressed man with red eyes waving at you through the dirty glass. You offer him a tentative wave back and he nods aggressively. “Yes, hello, I need your assistance.”
“Um,” you shake your head, “Sorry, I don’t have any drugs dude.”
“No,” he places his hands pathetically on the glass and shakes his head. “Please, I have been kidnapped.” Finally, you take a step closer to him. You can tell now that his eyes aren’t reddened from any medicinal fun, he probably got pepper sprayed.
Your friend did it to you once when you tried to surprise her on her birthday and you’ll never forget just how awful you looked afterwards. You can see him a bit more clearly now. Whatever odd costume he’s got on, it looks good. Genuine and clean.
Not like most of the street performers you see in Times Square. Besides, he doesn’t have that maddened look in his eye that makes you worry he’s going to come inside and kill you. Tentatively, you open the window.
He’s leaping through in a second and you jump back with a yelp. He turns towards you and his eyes widen before he quickly turns away. “My good lady, where are your pants?”
“Uh,” you glance down at the oversized shirt you’re wearing and the tiny shorts underneath. Admittedly, it’s a little skimpy, but you’re not walking around naked. You’ve heard of committing to the bit, but this is a bit much. “On,” you tell him, walking around him and trying to stand close to the phone.
“Ma’am-” He’s cut off as someone slams their fist on your front door. You keep a weary eye on the man while you unlock your door.
“Hey,” Stuart smiles at you. His eyes drift slightly past your shoulder and he goes barging into your apartment. “Leopold! What did I say?”
You huff and glare at Stuart’s frantic back. “This is yours?” Stuart nods and rushes Leopold out the door. You don’t miss the pleading, while slightly scandalized, look he sends you.
You slam the door closed behind them, shaking your head and going back to your morning paper. You doubt you’ll be seeing him around again.
You know, it’s just your luck that your upstairs neighbor is a scientist, one who happens to dabble in the art of time travel. And it’s just your luck that he had to fall down a damn elevator shaft.
Now, according to him, you have to care for someone from a different century so he can make it back to his time portal in, well, in time. This is fucking ridiculous. “I’m going to kill you, Stuart.”
“Look, they’re going to take my phone but he really cannot-”
It goes silent on the other end. You shout his name a few times but hear nothing in response. You assume the hospital staff has finally gotten sick of his shenanigans and has taken his phone. You slam your handset down with a huff and look towards the living room. Leopold hasn’t sat down since you walked in and it’s unsettling.
“So,” you start and his attention snaps towards you. “1876, huh?”
He nods and you roll your eyes with a scoff. “Oh, this is insane. This is insane,” you mutter to yourself, walking towards Stuart’s door. Leopold gives you a concerned look before quickly following after you. There’s a part of you, and you hate that part, that actually believes some of this.
Stuart is a brilliant, though flawed, scientist. You don’t doubt that he might have actually unlocked the secret to traveling back to the past, but it’s such an insane idea to try and wrap your head around.
“Come on, we’re leaving.” You know that Stuart doesn’t want him out of the house. Tough. You’re not going to just stay inside and wait until he can supposedly go back to the past. You don’t give Leopold any time to process your answer, already out the door and heading towards the stairs.
“You know,” he starts as he catches up to you. “You are quite rude.” Your first instinct is to snap back at him. But you take a breath and stop yourself.
You’re desensitized, ridiculously used to just how awful New Yorkers can be to each other. And whether this man is truly from the past or not is up for debate. But he is polite and earnest, and you have no reason to be a bitch to him.
“I’m,” the words are hard to come by but you force them out anyway, “I’m sorry.” He looks genuinely surprised by the apology and it only makes you feel worse. “This is just an insane idea to try and grasp.”
He chuckles softly, smiling as he glances down at his feet. “Yes, how do you think I feel?”
You’re sure it’s not his intention, but you only feel like more of an ass. If this is hard for you, whatever he's going through is a hundred times worse. You weren’t forcefully ripped out of your own time and shoved into another you don’t understand. He’s still trying to comprehend the television.
Though, you’re sure being a scientist has helped him in marginally understanding how all of this is possible. “How do you like the future?” It sounds awkward and stiff, but you haven’t had to talk to anyone in a really long time.
Your interactions are pretty limited at the book shop considering no one ever comes in. They all order online nowadays and all you really have to worry about is organizing shelves. You’re embarrassingly rusty when it comes to conversing.
And his propensity towards eloquence only makes you feel worse. “I must admit, some of your inventions have been quite fascinating. I’m especially fond of your showers.”
Your face scrunches slightly at the mention of hygiene and you nod, “I bet.” Before either of you can attempt to salvage this horrible attempt at conversation your phone starts ringing. “Hold on one second,” you tell him. You walk a few feet away from him but you can still feel his eyes boring into your back as you move away.
“Hello?”
There’s a frantic shout of your name down the line and then the distinct jingling of keys. “I need you to cover the shop. Marcy just went into labor and I’ve got to go!” Paul doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he hangs up.
Your jaw gapes and you stare down at your phone with shock. You know Paul and his wife had been expecting, but had it really already been nine months? Has your life become so monotonous and dull that nine months doesn’t even register for you?
It’s a depressing thought. One you’d rather not linger on. “What was that?”
You scream, though the people passing by don’t pay you any mind, and jump away from Leopold. “Jesus, where the hell did you come from?”
Leopold flinches away from you and his face is just as aghast as yours. “Good heavens, what is the matter with you? Do you respond to anything as a sensible woman might?”
“I resent that.” You tell him bitterly. Though, he does make a good point. You’ve been on edge constantly. You always seem to be more anxious than you are happy. It’s not a good state to perpetually exist in. “I need to go into work.”
You don’t want to outright say that he needs to go back to the apartment. It feels a little mean, but you’re hoping he’ll catch onto your tone of voice.
His entire demeanor perks up and he smiles at you. “Wonderful, I am dreadfully curious as to what you do.”
You open your mouth to correct him, let him know he’s not coming. But he’s staring at you with such hopeful eyes that you cannot find it in yourself to turn him down. He seems so excited, you’re sure he won’t be when he gets to your cluttered little bookshop. You let out a weary sigh, “Fine. Okay.”
You walk towards the curb, hoping to hail a cab. But Leopold’s hand gently wraps around your elbow and tugs you in the opposite direction. Your eyes widen in response to his boldness. You thought touching a woman he wasn’t courting would cause someone like him to combust. Seems he didn’t mind breaking the rules sometimes.
You make a mental note of that for later. You don’t know what you’re going to do with the information, but you find it intriguing. Maybe the modern world was rubbing off on him more than he’d like to admit.
“We should take this,” he stops you in front of a horse-drawn carriage and you immediately begin to shake your head.
“No, Leopold, these are just tourist traps-”
He doesn’t let you finish, opening the carriage’s door and gently nudging you inside. “Nonsense! This is far more enjoyable than those yellow monstrosities.”
“Taxi,” you correct. You turn towards the carriage driver and give him directions to your bookshop. “Ink and Tea on Fifth.” He nods and the carriage rolls forward with a lurch. You grip the cushioned seats and pray you don’t get motion sickness.
“Ink and Tea?” Leopold inquires. “Are you a journalist?”
You smile and shake your head. “No, nothing so fancy. I just help take care of an old bookshop. They were supposed to extend the shop when it first opened. They were going to build a space for people to get pastries or drink tea, but it never happened and the owner was too lazy to change the name.”
It feels a little humiliating to be talking about your minimum-wage job to a renowned scientist. He’s invented or is going to, elevators. He doesn’t care about your stupid shop. But he doesn’t look particularly judgy of you. If anything he seems to be endeared to you the more you talk.
Normally, you’re oblivious to these sorts of things. But it’s nearly impossible for him to hide. He’s not shy with his attraction, never taking his eyes off of you and hanging onto your every word. You’re not used to such outward attention.
You look out of the carriage, pretending to take in views you’ve already seen a thousand times. “This city is incredible,” he wonders aloud. His awe is palpable.
Your nose wrinkles and you shrug. “It’s dirty and the people are intolerable.”
“Must you always be so pessimistic?” You snap your mouth shut and feel embarrassment creeping around you. You’ve never had someone point out when you’re being negative, but he has a point.
You used to view the city through the same rose-colored glasses. Something’s broken inside you in recent years that has just taken the joy out of life. Everything is grey to you now, until Leopold, nothing spectacular has ever really happened to you.
The carriage comes to a stop outside the shop before you can respond to him. You want to deny what he says, but you can’t. Your attitude is almost always unnecessary. You think sometimes you might just be trying to see if everyone feels as miserable as you do or if there’s just something wrong with you.
“Come on,” you tell him, getting out and paying the driver. He wanders towards the shop, eyeing the displays in the window curiously.
“These are wonderful,” he tells you, pointing to the way you’d made the books look like they’re floating above the shelves. It was just some silly little thing you’d tried to get more people in the shop. It’d worked for about a month.
“I did that,” you unlock the door to the shop and open it for him. But he doesn’t walk in immediately, instead, he lingers in the doorway. He offers you a soft smile and you can’t help but return it.
“You’re more creative than you give yourself credit for.”
Your eyes widen as you watch him walk inside. He keeps making these oddly astute observations about you and it’s throwing you off your game. You barely know this man and you’ve always been good at keeping yourself aloof and vague. Yet, he seems to read you like you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve.
“Feel free to…” he’s already made himself comfortable somewhere in the back and you trail off. “Look around,” you finish lamely. His form is lost somewhere in stacks of books and cluttered shelves.
You know most of the classics and history books are kept towards the back. You wonder if he’s reminiscing or getting a headstart before he gets back to his time. You smile at the thought and walk behind the counter, sitting on the stool and preparing to finish off the rest of the day.
Leopold is still somewhere lost to you an hour later. Occasionally you’ll hear a page flip or the clatter of a book being reshelved, but there are no other signs of life. Not until the bell above the door rings.
“Clark,” you smile, sitting up straighter as your friend walks through the door. “What’re you doing here?”
He gives you a crooked grin and shrugs. Just over his shoulder, you can see Leopold’s head pop over a shelf, he looks between you both, eyes narrowing with disdain. “Paul told me you’d be here, figured you might want some company.”
“Actually-” you start, but another voice cuts you off.
“Leopold Mountbatten,” he comes around the corner, hand outstretched as he comes in between you and Clark. “And who might you be?”
Your brows furrow in confusion at the interaction. Leopold seems oddly hostile and Clark looks strangely caught off guard. “Um, Clark. Nice to meet you, man.” He shakes Leopold’s hand but his grip is weak and it only lasts for one awkward half-second.
It’s uncomfortable to watch them try and interact and it only gets worse when they turn towards you. Clearly, they want you to tell them who the hell the other guy is. But you feel like that might just make the situation worse.
Besides, you were pretty content with it just being you and Leopold, you don’t need Clark coming in here and riling things up. “You know, Clark, I’m set here. You can just go home.” Your tone leaves no room for argument but you know he wants to.
“Alright, I’ll just call you later, I guess.” He throws one last skeptical look at Leopold before finally slinking back out of the shop.
“Neither of you should be alone without a chaperone present.” Leopold bluntly scolds you without even waiting a second before Clark is gone. It catches you off guard and you scoff.
You motion between the two of you, “We don’t have a chaperone.”
Leopold shrugs, “Yes, well, I’m not courting you.” It shouldn’t, because he’s right, but that stings. He is attractive, surprisingly so. You have this odd belief that anyone from his century had to be at least a little ugly. But he’s near perfect.
Hearing him tell you so bluntly that you’re not courting hurts a little. Though, you can’t blame him. You must be dramatically different than the women he’s used to. From your manners to how you dress, you’re practically an alien.
You stand up from behind the counter and walk towards the cart of books that need to be shelved. “Clark is a friend. Nothing more.” You’ve never once been romantically interested in your friend. He’s attractive, but he’s not really your type.
Apparently, British men from the nineteenth century are. Which does not bode well for your romantic prospects once Leopold is back home. “It is plain for anyone to see how he wants you. Don’t let yourself be blinded by naivete.”
“Naivete?” you scoff and turn around to glare at him. “Don’t pretend to know anything about me, alright? I’m not some maiden in a frilly dress who needs a chaperone.” You can see that your words affect him. He looks a little taken aback by your anger and so are you.
It’s misplaced. You’re not mad at him, just mad that you even like him. “Just go read or something, Leopold.” You dismiss him more rudely than necessary and hide yourself behind a few shelves. The rest of your workday is spent in a tense silence that makes your stomach churn.
You’re nearly ready for bed when something slips under your door with a slight whoosh. You turn towards it, frowning when you see a little envelope with a wax seal on the ground. You pick it up and let your finger slip under the paper, opening it to find a letter with your name on it inside.
The handwriting is impeccable, with a gracefulness to it that you’ve never seen before. You don’t have to read for very long to know who it's from. Leopold writes poetry about the color of your eyes and the way your lips curl when you smile. And then he ends it with a vague, nearly ominous, invitation to dinner.
You can’t help but smile to yourself, changing out of your pajamas and slipping into something a little nicer. A few minutes later you’re climbing out your window and taking the stairs up the fire escape to the roof.
You don’t believe your ears at first, thinking the music must be coming from another apartment. But when you make it up to the roof there’s a violin player there waiting for you. He smiles happily at you as you approach.
You spin in a slow circle, taking in the sheer amount of flowers littered around the roof. You don’t know how he managed to afford all of this. He transformed the barren and empty rooftop into your own little paradise. Candles lit and a live musician playing for you.
You’ve never had anyone do something like this for you, ever. It’s a little hard to accept that someone would be willing to put this much effort in for you. “I wasn’t entirely sure you would come.”
You turn around and Leopold is waiting behind you, that familiar smile playing on his lips. You aren’t aware of the grin forming on your face in response. You don’t have much control over that when you’re with him.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He looks like he wants to respond but at the last moment thinks better of it. He instead pulls your chair out for you, helping you into your seat. “This is nice,” that feels too underwhelming a word for such an incredible gesture.
You sigh and frown as you try and find the right words. You don’t notice him sitting down across from you. You only look up when you feel him placing his hand on your own. “It’s alright,” he assures you.
It’s still so odd how he can know you so well after such little time. “This is incredible,” you tell him, undeterred by his attempts to soothe you. “No one’s ever done something like this for me.”
He looks like he takes personal offense to that and it makes you laugh. “You deserve far more than this. Sadly, it seems Stuart’s pockets do have limits and I’m afraid I would have put him into debt if I’d gone any further.”
You have the perfect mental image of Stuart coming back from the hospital only to find his science project has robbed him. It makes you laugh and you squeeze his hand once before drawing it back into your lap. He lets his touch linger on you for a long moment, seemingly reluctant to pull away.
“No,” you tell him, “this is perfect.”
You fall into a comfortable silence for a little while. Conversation mostly drifting toward what his life was like as a duke. You don’t have much to say about your own life. It’s been incredibly normal and you’re a little sad to find that you don’t have one good thing to share with him.
Nothing comes to the front of your mind.
Inevitably, you drift into the topic you’d both been so adamantly avoiding. “Has Stuart said when you’d need to return?”
Leopold’s grip on the fork tightens and for a moment he refuses to meet your eye. “Monday, I’m afraid.”
“Oh,” your eyes widen and you feel something burning at the back of your throat. Monday, the same Monday that’s two days away.
“Dance with me,” the suddenness of the demand catchers you so off guard that you forget the tears. He stands, holding out his hand to you. You almost say no, you can’t remember the last time you danced and you doubt it’s going to be pretty.
But he whispers your name and something about his tone tells you to take the chance while you have it. You slip your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn’t sweep you off your feet and dance the night away.
Instead, he holds you close and you sway together. Like moving even an inch away from each other would hurt. “You could come with me,” he tells you. And you know immediately what he’s talking about.
You also know it could never happen. Going to the nineteenth century is insane. Even considering it should be enough to have you sent to a psych ward somewhere. Especially not for a man you’ve known for less than a month.
You try and tell him that you can’t, but he stops you. “I know, a preposterous idea. I just wanted to think about it.” You look up at him and find that you can’t take that away from him. There’s nothing wrong with imagining what it could be like with him. Even when you know it can never happen.
You dance like that for a little while longer, swaying against each other while the violin plays in the background. He whispers your name and when you gaze up at him this time, there’s a certain look in his eye that you know is reflected in your own.
He dips down, lips caressing yours gently before he’s pushing more firmly against your own. The world stops. Cliche, you’re aware. For the first time in years, though, you’re alive. You feel something other than the dull monotony of life. You feel excited and terrified all at once. Because you know you can never have this feeling again.
You will never meet another man like Leopold who ignites this spark of life and passion within you. Never has a man been able to make you doubt every decision you’ve ever made with just a kiss, but here he is.
Your arms lift like you might try and draw him in closer. His hands come up, taking yours in his gentle hold and squeezing. He pulls away from you and reality comes crashing back down. You’re not in love, you can’t be. You’ve only just met him a few days ago.
Yet, here you are, wondering if you might actually want to leave everything behind to be with him like the great romances authors write about. He smiles at you and there’s a bittersweetness to it, a final farewell that you know will break whatever is left of your heart.
He lifts your knuckles to his lips, pressing his lips against them like he never wants to part. “Goodnight,” he whispers your name and backs away from you. You watch him go, watch him leave, unable to muster up any words for him.
You can’t think of anything that would ease this gnawing ache inside of you. Nothing to soothe the pain for either of you. You let him go because you know if you asked him to stay he would. And how selfish of you would it be to let history unravel simply because you fell in love?
Monday. It is Monday. You’ve been coming to terms with that all weekend. You don't want to think about the fact that Leopold will be gone tonight. Your time together was so brief but you feel like you’re never going to get over losing him.
Before the night was over on Sunday, a note was slipped under your door. This handwriting was messy, it made you think someone other than Leopold had written it down, but you don’t know who it could have been.
It was a date and time, jump off the Brooklyn Bridge at this time on Monday night. Only an idiot would jump off a bridge because of an ominous note slipped under her door. But you haven’t been able to take your eyes off of it, not since you first picked it up.
Leopold had invited you to go with him. And while you might not have said no, the insinuation was clear. Your eyes dart to your clock. If you left now, you could still make it in time. What an absolutely ridiculous thought.
So, why are you running out the door without locking it? Why do you not care who slips into your home now? There’s this sense of finality within you that lets you know you’re never going to see that place again and that’s okay.
You never truly felt comfortable in your life. You always thought a part of yourself was missing. Or that you were always running late for something. You think you understand what you were feeling now.
The thing you’ve been searching for your whole life wasn’t halfway across the world, a hundred thousand miles from you. He was on the wrong side of time, or you were, at least.
You manage to snag a taxi to get to the bridge but there’s a traffic jam. You’re forced to jump out of the car and run through the different lanes of blocked traffic. People shout at you. Your cab driver screaming after you about your fare. You don’t care, the only thing you can think about is the note crumpled in your hands and the clock counting down how long you have to jump.
You’ll either be on the news tomorrow as an unfortunate suicide. An idiot who accidentally threw herself off the wrong side of the bridge. Or, you’ll see Leopold again.
You reach the ledge and you can’t hesitate. If you do, you won’t jump in time. You close your eyes, holding your breath like you’re jumping into your neighbor’s pool. Air rushes around you, whipping at your hair and skin violently.
It’s not until you hear someone shouting down at you that you realize you’re not dead. You’re lying in the middle of a dirt road, a group of people staring down at you with concern in their eyes.
You only have to take in the clothes they’re wearing to know you’ve made it. Before they can react you’re leaping to your feet and running off. You know you’re near the Brooklyn Bridge, or where it’s supposed to be at least. You know enough about the area to remember where Leopold’s house is supposed to be.
You’re covered in sweat and red mud. The people you pass by in the streets hide behind their hands and whisper about you. You’re not making a good impression on your future neighbors, that’s for sure. But, honestly, all you care about is making it back to him.
You see people congregating outside his uncle’s home. You know there’s a party inside, that he’s supposed to be announcing who his wife will be. You barrel through the people outside, shoving through the crowd and running up the steps of the house.
You can hear Leopold’s voice as you run, “The woman I’m going to take as my wife is-”
There’s a loud gasp as you come panting into the room. You can’t catch your breath long enough to speak but it doesn’t matter. The crowd is parting around you and Leopold is smiling down at you. He says your name and there’s nothing else that matters about the world around you. Not when you finally found each other.
end. — I do not own the characters or the movie Kate & Leopold, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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Hey I’m just begging for a fic of Logan with a shy reader that she has a crush on him but thinks he’s never going to fix on her since Jean exists (maybe the reader can make her hair color change depending on the emotion or something
a/n: sorry I haven’t been responding to asks. The new job has officially killed my spirit. But I got to work out finally and do some yoga so hopefully I’ll start feeling more motivated 🤞🤞this one will be shorter
Logan Howlett x X-men!reader (Chameleon)
“Chameleon!” You jump, shoulders flying up to your ears. Almost immediately you can feel the tips of your fingers tingling. Sure enough, when you look down they’re already disappearing. Sighing, you turn around and glare at Scott.
“What have I told you about scaring me?”
He grimaces, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I forgot.”
You roll your eyes and turn back toward your project. “Every time,” you mutter bitterly. You’re not an idiot. You know he thinks scaring you is funny. The whole school does. They all like to see you yelp and blend in with the nearest surface, the only thing visible is your stupid hair.
“You’re, um, turning red.” Scott points to your head and you don’t have to look to know your hair is shifting colors.
You reach over and swat harshly at his arm, “Because you pissed me off! I know you scare me on purpose,” you accuse, jabbing your finger into his chest. He laughs and stumbles away from you.
“Alright, alright, calm down. I was just messing around a little. Look,” he glances down at the lesson plans before you and sighs. “All this will have to wait. Charles needs us all for a mission.”
You huff and shove the papers into your desk drawer. “Alright, lead the way.” You feel Scott’s eyes still lingering on your hair and glare at him. “Move it, Summers,” you demand.
You were already in a bad mood, you didn’t need him making it worse. It honestly shouldn’t be such a big deal for you. You get scared by everyone all the time. You used to enjoy it, enjoyed the way it felt like you all had your own joke. But, eventually, it started to feel less like an inside joke and more like you’re the unwitting butt of one.
Some mutants get amazing powers, like Jean or Charles. Logan’s abilities are incredible, even if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that. But yours, well, you're better suited as the cheap gimmick of a children’s birthday party than an X-Men. You’re just a walking mood ring that blends in with her environment.
The only thing you’re good for is reconnaissance missions and embarrassing yourself. You don’t know what Charles sees in you. You’ve never understood why he insists you’re such a good asset to the team. Yes, you are good at spying on people, but you don’t need to when Charles has such strong telepathic abilities. You’re essentially useless in a fight due to a lack of regenerative or strength abilities.
More often than not you feel like a child playing dress up, chasing after the big kids. You know the others don’t mean anything bad by it when they tease you into going invisible or laugh when your hair changes. It’s all in good fun. But it doesn’t make you feel any less like easy entertainment rather than a teammate.
It doesn’t help that you’ve got little to no control over your abilities when it comes to Logan. You’ve never had such a horrifically bad crush like this. Anytime he opens his mouth around you, you're fighting off the urge to just go invisible and run away. You feel like you go feral around him. You don’t know how he hasn’t caught onto what the colors of your hair mean when you’re near him.
It’s constantly switching between some odd mix of red and pink when you talk. Which, you know what it means, but you’re praying no one else does. Red can mean angry, depending on whether you’re talking to Scott or not. You know, though, that with Logan it just means you want to jump his bones and you’re hopelessly in love with him.
Thankfully, like the others, he associates red with anger. Which isn’t great for you because that just means he thinks every time he opens his mouth you’re pissed off. At yourself, maybe, but at him, never. It just means when he wears those stupid tanktops you want to dig your teeth into his biceps and never let go.
Scott opens the door to the meeting room and you slide in past him. Charles gives you a brief smile as a greeting. You take the chair at the end of the table, which just happens to be next to Logan - completely coincidental. He gives you a tense smile and you return it stiffly. You tug your hood over your hair, praying he doesn’t notice the red in your strands yet. You don’t want him to think you hate him. You completely prefer that over him knowing how feral you are for him, but it’s not conducive to your slow plan to finally get him to acknowledge you as a sexual partner.
You swear, if your name isn’t Jean Grey, you might as well just be a shapeless blob of nothing. He glances over at her, that smoldering look in his eyes, and you try not to throw up in your mouth. Scott wraps an arm around Jean’s shoulders and they break their lingering stares.
Logan glances over at you and catches the glare on your face before you can get rid of it. He huffs and turns towards Charles. With a sigh, you sink back into your chair and focus on not just going invisible.
“Chameleon,” Charles says your name and your eyes widen. You wonder how much you’ve missed while you’ve been glaring at the back of Jean’s head. “Does that sound alright with you?”
You look around the table for help but they’re all staring expectantly at you. “Sure,” you stumble over the word, racking your brain for any answers. It seems not even your subconscious was paying attention to Charles droning on. “Sounds great.” He gives you a satisfied nod.
“Good. Off to the jet, all of you.” he rolls out of the room and you wait until he’s out of earshot to kick Logan under the table.
He glances back at you, smirking. “Don’t know what you agreed to?”
You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope,” he gives you a look like he knew you’d say that. You hate how well he can read you when it feels like you’re constantly hitting walls trying to understand him.
“You’re scoping a place out for us. Making sure it’s safe so we can retrieve some information.” You give him a thankful look and he chuckles. “You need to start paying attention, kid.”
You groan and get up from your chair, brushing past him. “I told you to quit calling me that.” It makes you feel like that’s all he’ll ever see you as, some kid invited onto the team. You want him to see you as someone he could have sex with, hopefully, love one day.
He glances past you at Jean. She smiles at him and you fight everything inside you to not roll your eyes and gag at them. She’s holding onto Scott and making fuck me eyes at Logan, which he’s happily returning. This is just too disgusting for you.
You shove past him and ignore how he calls out your name. Your real name. He’s the only one that uses it. For some reason, most people just refer to you by Chameleon. You don’t understand why. They just don’t seem to think of you outside your abilities as a mutant.
You make it to the jet before the others, taking the private time to change into your X-Men suit. If there’s one useful thing about your ability, it’s that it affects whatever’s touching you. Which means, you don’t have to strip naked to go completely invisible. And if anyone is around you, all you have to do is hold onto them and they’ll blend in too.
You’re tugging up the zipper of your top as Logan walks in. He gives you an odd look, sitting on the bench in front of you. “Angry about something?” He asks, gaze darting up to your head.
You drag your fingers over the ends of your hair and sigh. “No,” you tell him bluntly, taking the seat beside him.
His brows furrow in confusion. “It’s red, though,” he points out, his tone colored in suspicion.
You laugh a little, “Red doesn’t always mean angry.” It’s the most you’ve ever confided about your hair colors to him. The largest hint you’ve ever given him that you don’t hate him. You’re worried if he knew how you really felt about him, he’d think you were a little creep.
He slides his arm behind you on the bench, leaning in until you’re practically sharing the same air. You know your eyes are comically large, you don’t even want to know what color your hair is turning right now. “What else does it mean, kid?” He whispers and you don’t even pay attention to the nickname. All you can see and hear right now is him. How close he is, how close your lips are.
You could lean forward an inch or two and you’d be kissing. “Um,” you swallow harshly around the lump in your throat. You don’t even know what he asked you, all you can think about now is kissing him.
“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoes through the jet and you leap away from him, trying to calm your racing heart. Logan sighs and leans back in his seat, giving Storm a tense smile. She glances at you and laughs, “She’s nearly see-through, what are you doing to her?”
You frown and look down at your hands. Sure enough, you’re going translucent. You let out a silent groan, and tuck your knees into your chest. You take a few deep breaths until you’re one solid form again. It’s so embarrassing when that happens, when you lose control over yourself like that.
But it’s even worse when Logan does it to you. He gives you hope, stupid, hateful hope, for one minute that he might feel something deeper. Only for it to be another joke. You’re a walking mood ring, nothing more than a quick laugh to all of them.
Jean walks up the ramp, her gaze going to Logan first before drifting towards you. “Are you alright?” She mutters, trying not to let the others hear. Of course, Logan can, with his stupid enhanced abilities. “You’re turning blue,” she points out and you roll your eyes.
You can feel Logan’s stare burning holes into the side of your head and it only makes you feel worse. You hate being a joke, but you also hate showing them just how much it affects you. You don’t want to seem like a crybaby that can’t handle a little teasing. But you’d thought coming to Charles’ school meant people would stop poking fun at you. It feels like being dragged right back into high school.
“I’m fine,” you tell her. She doesn’t look like she believes you but she takes a seat anyway. Of course, placing herself right next to Logan, even though her fiancee is a few feet away from her, looking just as hurt as you. They lean into each other and whisper. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You let your glare bore into the floor, ignoring how much seeing them together hurts.
The mission had gone well, Logan had been hoping to go to the bar and grab a drink with you. But the second his back is towards you, you’re running off the jet. Logan calls out your name, trying to catch up. You glance back at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He smiles at you and your eyes widen. You go invisible and Logan glances around, baffled.
He calls out your name again but the door ahead of him opens and closes quickly. He can only assume you’ve run away again. You always run away from him. You’re always pissed off at him. He doesn’t know what Jean’s talking about when she says you like him.
Logan’s never met anyone more repulsed by him.
“Would you just trust me?” Jean tells him lowly, creeping up behind him.
His face falls and he turns to her, glaring at her knowing smirk. “She just fuckin’ ran away from me. Pretty sure that’s about as good a hint as I’m gonna get, Jean.”
She glances over her shoulder, waving Scott away and looping her arm through Logan’s. “You’re an idiot, Howlett.” He scoffs and she swats at his shoulder. “Trust me, I can read minds, remember?”
Of course, he knows she’s got some pretty decent telepathic abilities. But he didn’t think she would so brazenly breach your boundaries. There’s an unspoken rule that the mind readers of the school don’t delve into your brain without permission.
She sees the look on his face and sighs. “I didn’t read her mind. She got drunk a little while ago and told me about her raging crush on you,” she laughs a little at your expense and Logan lets out a short chuckle. You can be a pretty sloppy drunk if they let you go too far. He figures it was one of those girl’s nights he wants nothing to do with. You’d probably let the tight reigns you keep on yourself slip for once.
“She goes red every time she sees me. I don’t know what else that could mean other than she hates me.” Logan isn’t surprised that you’re not taken with him like he is with you. He’s used to the rejection, but it hurts just a bit more coming from you. You’re so welcoming to the others.
You embrace every new member of the school with open arms. Yet, with him, you get angry whenever you see him. You see through his walls, see the rot lurking underneath them. And, rightfully, want nothing to do with him. He understands your reasoning.
Most days he barely wants anything to do with himself. He’s made a lot of bad choices in his life, half of which he can’t remember. But he’d hoped, for one minute, that you might give him a second chance. As much as Jean insists otherwise, he can see the truth of how you feel about him every time you run away.
“Red doesn’t always mean anger,” Jean tells him elusively. It’s the same thing you’d said to him on the jet. It makes his brows furrow in confusion and he glares at her.
“What else could it mean?” He demands sharply, sick of her teasing him with the possibility you might feel the same way.
She bites her lip, looking suddenly sheepish. “I can’t say-”
“Jean,” Logan snaps. He stops her from walking any further, keeping her planted in one spot with him. “Tell me,” he’s sick of the games you’re both playing with him. He just wants some straight fucking answers. How hard is that?
She sighs and looks away from him. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”
“And I’m sure you promised you also wouldn’t tell me how she feels about me,” he points out. There’s a sharp tone to his voice, it’s rude but he can’t bother feeling guilty about it.
She can’t meet his eye, a smirk fighting at the corner of her lips. He waits impatiently for her answer, irritation broiling quickly in his gut. He’s about to snap at her again when she finally meets his eyes.
She speaks through a laugh, like what she’s about to say is so ridiculous she can’t hold it in. “She wants,” she cuts herself off with another laugh and Logan groans in frustration. He begins to walk away from her when she yells, “She wants to fuck you!” At his back.
His eyes widen in surprise before he turns back to her with a displeased look. “Are you fuckin’ with me?” He demands, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.
She shakes her head and brushes past him. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she warns, tone grave as she leaves the room.
Logan is left standing in the same spot, stunned at the revelation. He’s not sure how much of that he believes. But he doesn’t understand why Jean would possibly lie to him about this. She gains nothing by setting him up for failure. As much as he doubts the honesty behind her words, he’s got no other choice but to trust them.
He heads to the most likely place you’re hiding out. Charles has a private library that’s blocked off from the kids. There are too many first editions in there, he can’t risk any of them accidentally blowing them up. You like to head there when you’re trying to avoid people.
He tries to stay quiet as he walks in, not wanting you to run off again. It’s hard to confront someone who goes invisible whenever she feels like it. He sees light blue hair draped over the back of an armchair. He feels like a creep as he stalks towards you, sneaking and pouncing on you so you can’t run away.
He can’t imagine how Jean ever thought him approaching you would be a good idea. He whispers your name, trying not to startle you. It doesn’t take a genius to see how much you hate when the others scare you. They might not mean anything bad by it, but they have to be blind not to see how much it pisses you off.
You still jump, glancing up at him with a surprised look. He looks to your hair for any tells of how you feel. Some pink weaves its way through the stands but it otherwise stays relatively blue. His brows furrow in confusion, he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign that there’s no red.
“How are ya, kid? Ran off pretty quick earlier.”
“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, giving him a brief glare before staring absently down at the book in your hands. Logan kneels beside your armchair, covering the pages with his hand. You huff, giving him an expectant look. “Yes, Logan?” You demand, tone short.
Logan tilts his head, examining you and your body language. You seem relatively closed off, irritated at him or something else. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words or trying to express how he feels. He’s more comfortable showing how much he cares for those around him.
Throwing caution to the wind, he lets his hand drift to your wrist and tugs you forward. Your eyes widen as he drags you toward him. The kiss is short, he doesn’t want to push you too much. But it takes everything in him to stop himself from deepening it. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and devour you.
He holds back, parting from you with a low exhale. Your eyes flutter open and he grins when he sees the bright red your hair has turned. “What,” you sputter and stumble over your words. You shove him back and leap to your feet. “What the hell was that?” You demand, voice higher than he’s ever heard of it. “What was that?” You ask him shrilly, again.
You almost seem to be stuck in a loop, blinking rapidly and asking the same thing. Logan chuckles and gets to his feet, he gives you a knowing look and you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief.
“Jean told me.”
Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Realization dawns on your face and you gasp, looking up at him with something like horror on your expression. “No,” you tell him lowly. “She didn’t,” it almost sounds like you’re begging him to tell you otherwise.
He laughs again and your face falls. You start going clear, he can see the bookshelf through your stomach and he sighs. He grabs your hand, holding onto you before you can run again. You don’t even seem to be aware that you’re slowly disappearing from view.
“She’s, uh,” he struggles to figure out what to say to make you feel better. “She’s been coaching me,” he admits shamefully. “Trying to help me talk to you.”
You glance up at him but he can barely see your expression. The only thing reassuring him you’re here is his grip on you and your voice. “What? But I thought that-” You cut yourself off quickly and Logan glares down at where he thinks your face is.
“Thought what?”
You take a long pause and exhale deeply. “I thought,” you mutter, “you liked her.”
“She’s with Scott,” he points out bluntly. He can practically hear you roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it.
“Yeah, I know. But you guys are always whispering to each other and making googly eyes.”
“Googly eyes?” He interrupts, disgust clear in his tone.
“I was wrong,” you continue, ignoring him. “I see that now, but I thought you didn’t care about me.”
Logan huffs, he hates that you thought that. He should have just been open with you from the start. He’s faced rejection his whole life, he shouldn’t have been so petrified of it just because it could come from you. If he’d just manned up and told you earlier, it would have saved you both a lot of time and hurt.
“Kid,” he hopes he’s making eye contact with you and not just staring at some random book. It’s really hard to tell when you go invisible like this. “You’re the only person I care about in here.”
You’re quiet for a long while and he worries you’ve somehow slipped away without him realizing. But, ever so slowly, you start coming back into view. Logan awkwardly averts his eyes from your breasts, he’d been hoping he was making eye contact with you, clearly, he was wrong.
“You mean that?” You ask, and he hates the trepidation in your voice. He’s never been good with words, he doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him. But he can show you.
His hand drifts up your arm, wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging you towards him. You trip over your feet, hands landing on his chest to stabilize yourself. He leans down, hovering over your lips for a moment. He waits until your eyes drift shut and your lips purse impatiently before he finally kisses you again.
He doesn’t hold himself back this time. He pours every racing thought he’s ever had about you, every one of his wanted-to-tell-you-how-he-feels-and-hasn’t moments into the kiss. Your hands slowly curl up into his shirt, wrinkling it and tugging him further into you.
To his surprise, you deepen the kiss, mouth moving over his like you want to devour him whole. He’s sure if he opened his eyes your hair would be a bright roaring red. He smirks against your lips, happy that, for once, he actually listened to Jean. If it gets him results like this, he might have to do it more often.
end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡
Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte
@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross ♡
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