Hear me out. Karen wheeler x Fem reader.
Reader just can’t stop starting at Karen’s scars and it makes her defensive and insecure and reader is caught off guard and flushed and Karen in complete bewilderment and shock realising reader isn’t staring at her scares because she’s disgusted or judging, she’s staring because she finds them sexy.
You had always been part of the Wheeler family in one way or another. You were Nancy’s best friend, so you had spent countless hours at her house—sleepovers, study sessions, lunches, everything.
You loved your best friend, truly. You always listened to each other, always showed up for one another. But there was something you hadn’t been able to avoid all these years.
Watching Karen Wheeler. You saw her change through the seasons and the years—her dark hair turning blonde, her perfect wavy hairstyles giving way to beautiful curls.
She was always kind to you. “Honey, you look beautiful.” “Sweetheart, is everything okay? You seem a little distracted.” She was attentive, looking at you with those beautiful eyes and that gentle voice you could never hide anything from—you never had.
When Karen hugged you, you loved it. It was pure, and the scent of her sweet perfume intoxicated you—you adored it. You liked making her laugh while helping her dry the dishes, even when she insisted it wasn’t necessary.
And she loved seeing your cheeks turn rosy after she told you how pretty you looked.
She was always there for you. And oh—when Will said they were going to Nancy’s house. You had never pressed the accelerator so hard in your life; you broke more than one traffic law, and it was all in vain because when you arrived, she was there—on the ground, covered in blood, torn apart.
You had always known you loved her. It had always felt impossible, but it didn’t matter anymore whether it was platonic—you couldn’t lose her, it was the one of the only people who always where there for you.
You stayed with her at the hospital. Even while she slept, you told her that Nancy and Mike were fine, that they would bring Holly to see her.
You had constant neck pain from sleeping on the small single chair in her room. You drank several cups of coffee just to stay awake—to take care of her.
And yet, despite having been there, despite having silently cared for her, here you were—in her kitchen—your gaze lingering on her chest longer than appropriate while she talked about something involving Holly and Derek.
She noticed your stare before you did. “I know my scars are big and look terrible, but could you stop staring at them?” she asked defensively, setting her mug down on the counter with a bit of force.
She had spoken sharply, but you barely registered it—she had just pulled you out of a trance you hadn’t even realized you were in. “What?” you stammered as you straightened up. Your cheeks flushed, giving you away.
Karen, whose brow had furrowed, softened as she took in the way your voice trembled and your cheeks colored. “That you stop staring at my scars.” This time she said it more gently.
Your cheeks burned even more.
“Oh—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or anything.” You forced yourself to look away. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, internally scolding yourself.
Karen blushed. She realized it. You weren’t looking at her scars with disgust like others did. You were looking at them because you liked them.
She let the silence settle between you for a moment before asking, “…You like them?” She had hated them—she had always felt so confident, and now she had this enormous scar that most people looked at with discomfort.
But not you. You weren’t most people. And when you heard her question, you looked at her, the warmth still lingering in your cheeks. “…Yes.” You hesitated before answering. “Karen, you are… you’re a beautiful woman, and these scars you have now don’t make you look bad at all. You look… you look really good.” You assured her, smiling shyly.
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Two more weeks passed. Saturday night arrived; the Wheelers had gone out to dinner. Nancy and you were having a sleepover—though Nancy had already fallen asleep, and you couldn’t.
You tossed and turned until you heard the sound of a car. As you approached the window, it seemed Karen and Ted had returned. You heard them come in—but you also heard a door slam.
After a moment, you quietly left the bedroom and carefully went downstairs. Karen was pouring herself a generous glass of wine, and she was… she was crying.
“Hey, Mrs. Wheeler… wasn’t dinner good?” you asked softly as you approached.
“Oh honey, I’m sorry if we woke you,” Karen said, quickly wiping away her tears. You could hear Ted playing golf in the yard.
“It’s okay, I was awake.” You stood right beside her and lightly touched her glass. “It’s okay to cry if you need to… do you want to talk?”
Karen looked at you for a few seconds. There was something almost ironic about the situation—she was always the one giving advice, the one wiping away tears, the one listening. It had been a long time since anyone had done that for her.
“Ted couldn’t look at me the entire dinner, you know?” she said. “More than twenty years of marriage and now… these scars. I should cover them.” A shaky laugh escaped her before she took a sip from her glass. Tears welled in her eyes again.
“They’re beautiful,” you said without thinking, watching them before looking back at her. “Don’t cover them.” You swallowed. “I mean—” You took a breath. “You’re a beautiful woman with beautiful scars. You don’t have to cover yourself for other people’s comfort.” You tilted your head softly. “You taught me that.”
Karen gently set her glass down and listened to you. She truly did—and she looked at you, too. You weren’t looking at her with disgust. You weren’t looking at her with pity. You were looking at her with love and nerves.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “…And do you think I’m beautiful?” She wanted you to say it again.
“It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“It matters to me.” She tilted her head. “Do you?”
She was truly asking—and you simply nodded, without hesitation. “You’re beautiful,” you said firmly. You looked her up and down; the dress she was wearing hugged all the right places, making you blush. “And blue looks really good on you,” you added.
Karen’s gaze then traveled over your outfit—simple, pajama shorts and a black top, paired with an open gray hoodie that allowed her to see your chest rise and fall. “Is that the necklace I gave you?” Of course it was—you always wore it. She took it gently in her hand and leaned closer to see it better.
As if she hadn’t been the one to choose it.
Karen smiled for a few seconds, and when she looked at you again, you were staring back at her with wide, shining eyes, parted lips, and flushed cheeks. Your breaths mingled, and she took the risk.
She kissed you softly, pressing her lips to yours while gently holding your chin, and you let her deepen it. It was slow, gentle, and new. Ted hadn’t touched her in a long time, and now he could barely even look at her.
And then there was you—with those bright eyes and your hands flying to her body, caressing her as you kissed her back. She pulled away gently, licked her lips, and smiled at you.
Wow. Just one kiss and your breathing was completely uneven—and her lipstick was on your lips. “I—” you tried to speak, but you didn’t know what to say. It was the kiss you had wanted more than anything in your life, and it filled you with guilt—the mother of your best friend, married, with three children.
Karen laughed softly. “Go to sleep.” She gently stroked your arm while lifting her glass with her other hand. “I’ll call you when I need the lawn mowed,” she promised as she walked toward her bedroom, leaving you dazed.
But Karen Wheeler already had a gardener. You were going to do everything except mow the lawn.
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I hadn’t written in a while! Hope you enjoy :)
