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janeyseymour · 17 hours ago

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I Can Take Care Of Myself

Summary: Melissa falls and clearly injures herself. She insists she's fine.

WC: ~3.7k

Melissa falls at work today, because of course she does. It isn’t the best morning to begin with- and that only puts the cherry on top to prove to the two of you that today is going to be an absolute living hell.

It all starts when you wake up with half a voice and feeling like a truck hit you. Still though, you persist and insist that you’re well enough to go to school- calling out isn’t an option at this point. The substitute situation is, in the fine words of Mr. Johnson, absolute trash. You’re not about to subject your grade level partners to another ten kids in their class for the day when you can still teach- just maybe not to the degree that your students have become accustomed to.

“Hun, I’m fine,” you croak out as you force yourself to peel your eyes open.

Melissa frowns. “It’s clear you aren’t. You look like you crawled out of the seventh layer of hell.”

“Wow,” you scoff. “I love you too.”

Green eyes are rolled. “You know I’m saying that with all of the love in my heart, mi amore… I just don’t want you to strain yourself more than you have to. I can handle your sub plans and take on some of your kids.”

“I’m fine,” you mumble as your eyes slip closed again. “Just give me five more minutes, and then I’ll get up.”

“Y/N,” your girlfriend says sternly.

“I’m fine,” you grumble. “Just gonna need some extra coffee today.”

Somehow, miraculously, you get out of the house on time- having not put on makeup today. You’re able to stop for coffee before you head to work, and then you’re walking in with the usual crew. They can all clearly see that you aren’t feeling well, but at your glare, they silence themselves. Chatter continues on like it normally does with your friends. And then Melissa trips and she hits the ground- hard.

You gasp and reach out a hand to help her up, worried that she’s more injured than she’s playing off. “Hun?”

“I’m fine!” the redhead jumps right up. “Coffee didn’t even spill.”

You look to your friends with a stunned look- how could she be okay? But then she’s limping her way up the steps to the school, and you sigh. She isn’t fine- nowhere near fine.

“Has she always limped like that?” Janine asks the group.

“No. No she has not,” you grumble under your breath as you head in behind your girlfriend.

She’s still limping down the hall with all of her things when you catch up to her.

“Hun,” you just barely manage to get out before you break into a bit of a coughing fit. Still, you grab her bags and loop an arm around her waist to help steady her.

The redhead shrugs you off and continues to hobble her way down the halls towards her classroom. “I’m fine. It’s you who isn’t.”

“Babe,” you shake your head. “You took a tumble, and it’s clear you’re hurting.”

“Ain’t the first time,” Melissa replies. “Won’t be the last.”

“At least let me look at your ankle when we get inside?” you ask as you stop in front of her door.

Green eyes glance to you for a second, and she can tell that you’re truly concerned about her. “Y/N.”

“Please,” you sigh. “I’m worried with the way you’re limping.”

The breath that she lets out tells you that she’s annoyed, but she relents. “If I say yes, will you get off my back?”

You raise brow at the attitude, but you cut your losses and nod. As soon as she’s in her classroom and settled to a certain degree, she’ll falling into her chair with a groan. You feel bad, but you have to unlace her boot and pull it off of her foot. It hurts your heart to hear the way that she hisses in pain at the action.

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. You peel her sock off, and you can immediately see that her ankle is swollen at least double the size what it’s supposed to be. “Hun, you need to go to the doctor.”

“There ain’t no damned way that’s happening.”

You look to your girlfriend with a deep sigh. “Lissa.”

“I’m not going,” the redhead stands her ground.

“It’s already swollen,” you tell her. You prod around the area and when she nearly shouts in pain, you just gesture to it pointedly.

“It’ll heal up in no time.”

“At least let me get you ice,” you request softly.

“I can get it,” Melissa tells you as she goes to pull her sock back on. She halts her motion though when she feels the pain flare up again.

“Melissa, now is not the time to be stubborn,” you grumble out as you turn on your heel to get ice from the staff room. By the time that you fill a couple of bags with ice, brew another two cups of coffee, and return down to the redhead’s classroom, she’s grunting and groaning trying to get her shoe on.

“Melissa Schemmenti, stop being so damn stubborn, and just accept my help,” you rasp out as you pull her shoe off again, ignoring the way she winces. “Shouldn’t have tried to put it back on when I told you I would get it for you myself.”

“An’ I told you I’d be fine. I should be the one takin’ care of you,” Melissa spits out. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” And then she gasps at the cool sensation on her foot.

“Twenty minutes,” you tell her sternly. “I don’t want to see you up and moving today. You can teach from your chair.”

“But-”

“Melissa,” you grit through your teeth. “I know you don’t want help or to admit that it hurts, but I’m seriously concerned. So, if you aren’t going to do this for yourself, will you at least do it for me?”

The pleading look in your eyes, along with the strained voice, finally get her to quit fighting you. “Fine. But when we get home, I’m taking care of you.”

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss her temple. You make your way out, having to prepare a few things for your own classroom. As you’re leaving, you mumble under your breath, “That’s if we aren’t at the hospital for your damned ankle.”

Come lunch time, you line your kids up and march them down the hall to your girlfriend’s room. She’s still sitting in her chair, one shoe off, but she looks pissed beyond hell.

“I’ll take your kids down, grab our lunches, and then I’ll meet you back here?”

“I can come down to the staff-” she pauses briefly at your glare. “I’m coming down. But if you wouldn’t mind taking my class down to the cafeteria?”

“Fine.” You’ll take what you can get.

By the time that you’ve dropped all of the kids off in the lunch room and ensured that they have a plan for lunch, Melissa has hopped about halfway down the hallway.

“You’re ridiculous,” you sigh as you catch up with your girlfriend easily.

Green eyes are rolled, and she huffs and groans as she continues down towards the staffroom. You simply loop your arm around her waist again.

“Can you put any pressure on it?” you ask.

“Enough.” She steps on it, but you see the massive amount of pain she is in when she does.

You quirk your lips to one side, but you don’t say anything. Instead, you help guide her to a chair before pulling your lunches out of the fridge and setting it down in front of her. You pluck her mug from her hand and refill it with another helping of coffee, spoon the sugar out for her, and get the creamer for her.

“Thanks,” she kisses your cheek gently.

You manage to get her to ice her injury again without much of a fight.

The rest of the day passes by just fine, and come the end of the day, you’re both standing outside dismissing your kids. You can see the way that she’s favoring her one side though and how she’s smiling through the pain. Honestly, you’re surprised she even managed to get her shoe back on, much less make her way outside.

But then the bell rings to signify that teachers can leave, and you watch her grunt and groan her way to the car.

“Let me drive,” you try to convince her.

She waves you off. “I can drive.”

The entire drive home, you can see in her face just how much she’s trying to suppress her pain. You don’t say anything though- hopefully she learned her lesson after today’s drive back home.

She leans over the middle console once she’s put the car in park and kisses you softly.

“Don’t kiss me,” you rasp out. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I have the immune system of a bull,” your girlfriend tells you, and then she plants another one you. “I just… thank you for trying to take care of me today. But I promise you, I’m fine. I should be the one taking care of you right now.”

She presses her forehead against yours, only to frown as she pulls away. “You’re burning up.”

“I’ll be okay,” you mutter. “Just goin’ to be an early night tonight.”

It is an early night for you. Practically right after dinner, you practically drag your exhausted body up the steps and crawl into bed.

You expect the redhead to make her way up not shortly after you, but she doesn’t. You resort to texting her.

Are you coming to bed?

I will, is the response you get. Just catching up on the Bachelor, and then I’ll be up. Get some sleep though, hun.

Okay, you type back. Goodnight. I love you.

I love you too.

Melissa doesn’t make her way up the steps that night. She can hardly manage to get comfortable on the couch with her ankle throbbing the way it is, and she doesn’t think she could manage the way that your legs always tangle together in sleep right now.

You hardly notice that she isn’t laying there next to you, sound asleep after taking some NyQuil to help your own symptoms.

But come the next morning, you realize that you aren’t waking up in her arms like you usually would.

“Mel?” you attempt to get out. You curse silently when all that comes out of your mouth is air.

You hear her groan from downstairs, and then you hear that familiar sound of a body being peeled off of the plastic covered couch. With a soft sigh, you begin to prepare yourself for the next day of school. You hear the grunts coming from your girlfriend downstairs as she attempts to get herself up the steps to get ready for work herself.

“Hey gorgeous,” you hear her low morning voice as you feel her warm arms wrap their way around your midsection. She presses a kiss to your cheek. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug before pointing to her with raised eyebrows.

“No voice still?” the redhead asks, and you shake your head before gesturing to her again. “Hurts a little, but it ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.”

You give her a look of disbelief, but she just kisses you again and smiles as she reaches for her own toothbrush.

Of course, she insists on driving again. Walking into the school takes longer than usual for your girlfriend, her limp more apparent than it was yesterday. She really can’t put any pressure on her ankle without gasping in pain.

She plops herself into a seat before attempting to con any of the other people in your friend group to make the two of you coffee.

Janine, of course it’s Janine, tells the redhead that it’s clear that she’s worse than she was yesterday and that her ankle needs medical attention.

Your girlfriend, in true Schemmenti fashion, argues that. And then Gregory is telling her that what she rhetorically asked is exactly what a doctor would do for.

“Hun,” you rasp out. “You couldn’t even make it up to bed last night.”

“I fell asleep watching Housewives, Y/N,” Melissa sighs as she runs the pad of her thumb over your knuckles. “Jeez.”

That day after school, you’re laying on the couch with your eyes half closed. God, whatever you have is really throwing you for a loop. But you can’t let yourself fall asleep because you’ve vowed to yourself that if your injured girlfriend needs help, you will be the one to help her.

She only continues to shrug off your offers to help, claiming that she can do it all herself. That is, until you practically force her to sit down on the couch next to you with a pack of ice. You lift her leg and set it up on the coffee table with a pillow propped under it. And then you gently lay the ice down. She gasps at the sensation, and then her eyes darken.

“Y/N,” she kicks the ice away. “I said I’m fine. I said I’m the one taking care of you tonight. Can you just- quit it?”

“I won’t ‘just quit it’, Melissa. It’s clear that you’re hurt, and I really should be taking you to the hospital for your ankle.”

“Jesus Christ,” your girlfriend mumbles. “Leave me alone about it. Hun, I’m fine. I promise you- it’s just going to be sore for the next couple of days, and then I’ll be right as rain. Just, trust me?”

“Fine,” you scoff. “If you want me to leave you alone, then I will.”

You make your way up the steps and lay in bed, saddened by your girlfriend’s words. You’re drifting in and out of sleep when she comes in and kisses your head softly. “I love you.”

You sigh softly. “If it isn’t better by tomorrow, we’re going to the doctor.”

“Sure,” Melissa huffs. Then she softens. “Why don’t you take a nap, mi amore? I know you’re tired.”

You finally give in and give your body what it wants- rest, full rest. You don’t wake up until the next morning when your alarm is going off on your phone.

While you’re asleep though, Melissa thinks. She really doesn’t want to go to the doctor, but her ankle isn’t getting any better. If anything, it’s getting worse. So, she has to take drastic measures. She manages to hop her way to the medicine cabinet and begins to rifle through it. Painkillers- nice. Are they expired? Yes. Does she care? No. She pockets them before laying back down on the couch with you and pulling you into her arms, kissing your head softly.

The next morning, it seems as though Melissa has done a 180. She’s walking around just fine, she’s in a much better mood, and there hasn’t been a complaint out of her mouth about the pain that she was in just yesterday.

“See?” Your girlfriend’s eyes sparkle as she cooks you breakfast. “I told you: I’m right as rain now, aren’t I babe?”

You just roll your eyes and kiss her cheek. “Okay, hun.” Oh thank God- you’re voice is at least somewhat back to normal.

She dances into the school and into the staffroom while you head off towards the bathroom, and your friend group is just as surprised as you were this morning to see how much better the redhead is feeling.

You’re walking into the staffroom just as your girlfriend admits that she found some painkillers at the house, and you practically jump to grab the bottle out of her hands.

“Those are mine.” You then continue to read the label.

“Melissa!” Barbara cuts in and grabs the bottle. She looks at the expiration date. “These are way passed expired!”

The redhead just waves a hand in dismissal, claiming that they still do the trick if you just double up on them. Before she can get another word out about how she’s feeling good, you have to leave. You storm out of the room, not caring that the door slams behind you. Your group of friends can hear your shoes hitting the linoleum tile with more force than usual.

“What the hell was that?” Barbara asks quietly.

Even in her high stupor, Melissa knows- you’re mad that she would stoop to such a level. “She’s pissed… I- I need to go see the nurse.”

You’re enraged that your girlfriend would go as low to taking expired painkillers- ones that weren’t even hers to begin with. And then you’re more upset with yourself for not having thrown them out. After what feels like forever, you know that you have to get ahold of your emotions. You’re students will be walking in soon, and you can’t be this upset when they come in.

You take a deep breath, shake your hands out, and put that practiced smile on your face like you’ve had to do so many times before. The bell to allow the children to start making their way down to the classrooms chimes, and your brow furrows slightly. You hadn’t heard your girlfriend make her way down the hallway, which is odd; you can always hear her heeled boots.

Quietly, you make your way out of your classroom and into the hallway, standing where you can see the redhead’s room nicely. She’s sitting at her desk, body turned to face the doorway… and she isn’t wearing her boots? She doesn’t even have a shoe on her injured foot. It’s actually elevated with ice resting on it.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself.

Your girlfriend sees that you’re looking at her curiously, and she just shrugs apologetically to you. You roll your eyes and head back into your own classroom.

Come lunch time, Melissa is still sitting in her chair, teaching from her desk. Her kids are lining up to head out, but she doesn’t so much as move. Her class ends up tagging onto the end of your line as they’ve done for the past few days. You drop them all at the cafeteria before making your way into the staff room.

“Where’s Melissa?” you roll your eyes as you grab your lunch from the refrigerator.

“Her classroom,” Barbara tells you. “I took her down her lunch and an ice pack.”

You nod before taking your salad out of the room with you and making your way back down the hall towards your girlfriend.

When you can see her, she’s sitting at her desk with her foot propped up and the aforementioned ice pack resting over the bruise.

“Hey,” Melissa waves you in quietly.

You just look to her as you stand in her doorway. “I’m beyond pissed with you, you know,” you say flatly.

“I know,” the redhead sighs. She gestures for you to come in. You do, taking a student chair and pulling it up to her desk.

Her hand very quickly finds its way into your own, squeezing it gently. “Mi amore.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

You pull your hand from hers. “I mean, seriously, Melissa. Denying my help, telling me that you were just fine when you clearly weren’t, and then stooping so low as to stealing my painkillers that were expired? You have to be kidding me!”

“I-” Your girlfriend cups your cheek gently. “Honey, I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” you huff.

“I fucked up by not letting you help me, I know I did,” the redhead admits quietly. “I know it doesn’t excuse it, but I just… I’ve never had anyone so willing to look after me when I’m not at a hundred… Joe always left me to my own devices, and other flings didn’t care enough to help.”

“I’m not Joe,” you hiss. “And I’m certainly not just some stupid little fling of yours.”

Soft lips meet your own. “I know. I know you aren’t. You’re you, and you care so deeply for me and are so willing to take care of me. But you have to understand that I’m not used to that. I’ve always had to fend for myself.”

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” you sigh.

“I know,” Melissa mumbles. “But I- I-” She shakes her head softly as she tries to figure out how she wants to word this. “I didn’t want to be dependent on you, especially while you were sick. So I made a stupid decision- one that I entirely regret, because it clearly hurt you and made you feel like I didn’t need you, when I do.”

You nod along.

“And after you stormed out of the break room today, I really knew I fucked up. So… I went down to the nurse, asked Barbara to bring me my lunch and an icepack, and I scheduled an appointment to check out my foot once school is over.”

“You did?” you ask quietly.

Your girlfriend nods. “I did. And… I was kinda hoping my beautiful girlfriend would take me there after work today?”

You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes and tell her that you would’ve done that days ago. Instead you just give her a tight lipped smile and nod. “You know I will. But I’m driving.”

The next morning, you carry your things on one shoulder and Melissa’s things on the other. You ensure that she can easily make her way into the school with her crutches now.

“So you went to the doctor?” Janine asks when she sees the two of you making your way down to the classroom.

“Grade two ankle sprain, wrist bruise, knee abrasion,” your girlfriend relays. “So… you know, no big deal, like I said.”

You give her a look in disbelief.

“Okay, okay,” the redhead rolls her eyes. “So, maybe a bigger deal than I thought it was. But I’ll be alright, because I know I have my wonderful girlfriend to help take care of me while I get back to one hundred percent.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Alright, Schemmenti. Let’s go. You gotta ice your ankle again before the kids get here.”

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nausicaamusiclover20 · 3 days ago

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Warnings: Mature Themes,Explicit Content Sexual Content,Strong Language,Intense Sexual Content, Emotional Intensity,Sensitive Topics (About marriage)

P.S I wanted to tell you this story is a work of fiction and is not intended to represent any real-life events or individuals. It is solely for entertainment purposes.

Craving the Forbidden

The rhythmic hum of the vacuum cleaner filled the mansion, steady and soothing as I moved through the sprawling halls. This place was a fortress of luxury—high ceilings, dark wood, and towering windows that framed views of an endless horizon. It felt like a castle, but it was so quiet it might as well have been a mausoleum.

I’d been working here for two years, long enough to know every creak of the floorboards, every shadow that shifted with the setting sun. Long enough to know the man who lived here, too.

James Hetfield.

He wasn’t just my employer; he was a rock god. Frontman of Metallica, a legend whose name carried more weight than I could fathom. And yet, he was also something else. Something infinitely more complicated.

James Hetfield wasn’t supposed to be kind. Or thoughtful. Or so... human. But he was. And that’s what made working here harder than it should’ve been.

I dusted the shelves in the library, my hands steady even though my thoughts weren’t. I had no right to think about him the way I did. He was married. Famous. Completely out of reach.

And yet, I couldn’t help the way my chest tightened every time I saw him.

The front door clicked open, the sound reverberating through the empty halls. My breath caught. I wasn’t expecting him.

“Y/n?” His deep, gravelly voice echoed down the hall.

I straightened, smoothing my apron before stepping out into the foyer. He stood there, guitar case slung over one shoulder, sunglasses pushed up into his tousled hair. His presence filled the room like a storm rolling in—effortless, magnetic, dangerous.

“James,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I didn’t think you’d be home today.”

“Change of plans,” he said, setting the guitar down by the door. His lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. “Thought I’d work from home for a bit.”

I nodded, clutching my cleaning supplies tightly. “I’ll stay out of your way.”

“You never do.” The words were soft, but they carried an undercurrent that made my pulse quicken.

I ducked my head and hurried back to the kitchen, my cheeks burning. The hours crawled by as I moved through the house, each room feeling smaller and more suffocating with him here. His presence was impossible to ignore—the faint sound of his guitar drifting from the living room, the occasional creak of floorboards as he moved upstairs.

By the time I reached his office, my nerves were frayed. This was the one room I avoided whenever I could. It felt too personal. The walls were lined with gold records, guitars propped in every corner, and framed photos that told the story of his life. Photos of his band, his kids, his wife.

Those pictures always made my chest ache.

I pushed open the door, steeling myself as I set down the bucket of supplies. My hands trembled slightly as I dusted the bookshelves, each movement careful and deliberate.

“You don’t have to do that right now.”

His voice startled me, and I turned sharply to see him standing in the doorway. His arms were crossed, but his expression was anything but casual.

“Sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. His eyes locked on mine, filled with something raw, something that made it impossible to breathe.

“I was just finishing up,” I said quickly, moving to grab my supplies. “I’ll leave—” “Y/n,” he interrupted, his voice softer now. “Stay. Please.”I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. “Why?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his confidence faltering. “Because I need to tell you something.”

The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick and charged. I leaned against the desk, gripping the edge for support. “What is it?”

James sighed, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of his words was too much to carry. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you.”

My breath hitched, my grip tightening on the desk. “You shouldn’t say that.”

“I know,” he said, his gaze steady despite the crack in his voice. “But it’s the truth. And I think you feel it too.”

Tears burned in my eyes as I shook my head. “James, you’re married. This isn’t right.”

His jaw tightened, and he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “My marriage has been broken for years, Y/n. We’re just holding on for the kids, for the image, for everything except love.”

“That doesn’t make this okay,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

“I know it doesn’t,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. How I’ve felt for a long time.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave, breaking down every defense I’d built over the past two years. I stared at him, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I don’t know how to stop feeling this way,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

James closed the distance between us, his hand brushing against mine. The touch was soft, tentative, but it sent a shiver down my spine. “Then don’t,” he whispered.

I looked up at him, my resolve crumbling as his fingers gently traced the back of my hand. Before I could think, before I could stop myself, I leaned into him. His arms wrapped around me, strong and steady, pulling me against his chest.

The space between us disappeared entirely, his body pressing against mine as we sank deeper into the couch. His hands, steady and deliberate, slid over my waist and up my back, drawing me closer. Each touch sent a shiver racing through me, my skin coming alive beneath his fingertips.

His lips never left mine for long, returning again and again with an urgency that grew with every passing second. When he pulled back to catch his breath, his forehead rested against mine, his lips brushing lightly over my cheek, my jaw.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick and low, a plea more than a word.

I tilted my head, granting him the space to let his lips trail down the line of my neck. The heat of his breath, the faint scrape of his stubble, made my heart race wildly. My hands clung to him, finding the solid strength of his shoulders, the warmth of his chest beneath his shirt.

He kissed me again, this time deeper, with an intensity that left no room for hesitation. His hand slid up my side, skimming over my ribs before settling at the small of my back, anchoring me to him as his lips moved against mine. Every part of me burned, the room around us disappearing into the haze of shared heat and need.

The soft sound of my name on his lips made my chest tighten. I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as if that could make the moment last forever. His touch became more insistent, his hands exploring, his lips speaking a language I understood in the way they pressed, tasted, lingered.

The space between us vanished entirely as he closed the distance, his body pressing me back against the solid edge of the desk. His hands, rough and warm, skimmed my waist before gripping it firmly, pulling me flush against him. His lips claimed mine with a hunger I hadn’t felt before—raw and all-consuming.

When he pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against mine. His fingers traced my jaw, his lips brushing over the shell of my ear as he whispered, “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to rip these clothes off of you... to see you, all of you naked”

The words sent a shiver through me, and before I could respond, he took my hand, pulling me toward the bookshelf. My back hit the sturdy wooden frame, the books rattling softly as his body caged mine. His hands moved with purpose now, sliding down my arms before settling on the buttons of my blouse.

His eyes locked on mine as he began to undo them one by one, his breath warm against my cheek. “Every time I see you in this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I have to fight myself not to do this.”

I couldn’t speak, my voice caught in my throat as his hands moved lower, pushing the fabric off my shoulders. His fingers brushed my bare skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake. My heart pounded, the air between us thick and electric.

“You’re more beautiful than I ever let myself imagine,” he said, his voice soft but strained, his gaze taking me in like I was a masterpiece he’d waited years to touch.

His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer as his lips found mine again, fiercer this time. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips left mine to trail along my neck, down to my collarbone. Each kiss sent a spark racing through me, leaving me breathless and clinging to him.

“Tell me you want this,” he whispered, his voice raw against my skin. “Tell me I’m not the only one who’s been losing sleep over this.”

“You’re not,” I admitted, my voice trembling but steady with truth. “I’ve wanted this, James. I’ve wanted you.”

His lips found mine again, hungrier now, as his hands roamed over my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. The warmth of him seeped into me, his touch igniting something deep and uncontrollable. He pushed the blouse from my shoulders completely, the fabric fluttering to the floor without a second thought.

His hands slid down to my waist, his fingers teasing the hem of my skirt. “Every time I see you in this,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of my neck, “it drives me insane.”

I gasped as he lifted me slightly, turning us so I was pressed back against the bookshelf. The cool wood against my skin was a stark contrast to the heat of his hands, which worked to slide my skirt down my hips, his movements slow and deliberate. His lips followed the path of his hands, kissing the newly exposed skin with a reverence that made my knees weak.

He leaned back, his eyes dark and filled with something primal as he took me in. “Perfect,” he whispered, almost to himself.

I reached for him then, my hands trembling but eager as I tugged at his shirt. He didn’t resist, letting me pull it over his head. My fingers traced the lines of his chest, the muscles beneath taut and warm under my touch. He watched me, his breathing uneven, as if my touch alone unraveled him.

When he leaned in again, his hands found the clasp of my bra, pausing just long enough for his gaze to meet mine. “Okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, unable to speak.

James took a deep breath, his eyes dark and filled with a mix of desire and reverence as he pulled back slightly. His hands moved to the waistband of his jeans, the motion deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment. Slowly, he undid the button and the zipper, his gaze never leaving mine.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, as if he was trying to commit every detail of this moment to memory.

He slipped his jeans down, revealing the taut muscles of his legs, his body every bit as imposing as it was graceful. I watched him, the heat between us growing stronger, more palpable with each passing second. He stood before me, bare-chested, seeming like a Greek god, looking with a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He was beautiful in a way I never could have imagined, and now that the layers between us were slowly falling away, it felt like everything was shifting, like we were moving toward something neither of us could stop.

He stepped closer, his hands running over his own chest, and I reached out, my fingers tracing the lines of his abs, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down my spine. Then I moved closer to his boxer, lowering it a bit to make his cock slliping out.

“I want to make you feel good,” I whispered, my voice soft, but full of intent. I meant it, more than anything else. I took his cock erected and started stroking it gently, yet quick.

His reaction was immediate. A low moan escaped his lips, the sound soft but filled with desire. I felt a surge of satisfaction at the sound, knowing that I was the one making him feel this way. His body tensed beneath my touch, every muscle drawn tight with need.

The sound of his moan—deep and unrestrained—only made me more determined to keep going, to show him just how much I wanted to give. I moved slowly, my fingers working with precision, matching the rhythm of his breathing. I could feel him reacting to each subtle movement, his body leaning into me as if urging me on.

His hands moved to my hips, pulling me closer as he kissed me, his lips urgent, but still gentle. I could taste the desperation in his kiss, the unspoken longing he didn’t have to say aloud. But his moan told me everything I needed to know. It made my chest tighten, a flutter of heat spreading through me at how badly he wanted this, wanted me.

With every stroke, I could feel him getting closer, his body trembling beneath my touch. He leaned into me, pressing his forehead against mine, his hands gripping my hips as if trying to steady himself. His breathing grew more shallow, the moans escaping him louder, more desperate now.

“You feel so good,” he breathed against my lips, his voice rough with need. “So good, Y/n.” His breath was quick and uneven, each word heavier than the last, his eyes dark with desire.

I could feel the way my own body responded to him, the fluttering in my stomach, the warmth spreading between my legs. I wanted to keep making him feel this way—wanted to see him undone by my touch. The moan that escaped his lips only encouraged me to continue, the sound echoing in my mind, and I matched the rhythm he set with my own, feeling a heat surge through me with every movement.

There was only this moment, only the connection between us—deep, raw, and undeniable. I could feel his heartbeat under my fingertips, steady and frantic all at once. The way he moaned, his breath hitching with every motion, made me feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time.

I leaned into him, kissing him deeply, taking my time with the kiss as I felt the tension in his body grow. Every touch, every breath between us felt like it was drawing us closer, making the world outside disappear.

I kept my pace slow, letting the anticipation build, knowing how much he needed this, how much he needed me to be there with him. I could feel him trembling beneath my touch, the way his body reacted to each gentle stroke.

And then, with a shuddering breath, he moaned again, his entire body jerking slightly as he let go, his chest heaving as he finally released, the tension in him breaking. He collapsed into me, his hands gripping my shoulders for support as he tried to steady his breathing.

“Y/n,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so close...”

I held him close, my hands gently stroking him as I let him come down from the wave of pleasure. His breath was ragged, and I kissed him softly, as he came.

My body was still humming from the intense connection we'd just shared, and James, standing so close to me, his chest rising and falling with each breath, was no different. His hands remained on my body, and his gaze—those deep, smoldering eyes—told me everything I needed to know.

His lips brushed lightly against mine once more, a kiss that was soft, lingering, and filled with unspoken emotion. His mouth parted against mine, just a breath away. “You were incredible,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, thick with desire. “You’re so much more than I imagined.”

I smiled at the sincerity in his voice, a warmth spreading through my chest. But even as he spoke, I could feel the tension building in the air again. He was looking at me like he couldn’t wait for the next moment to begin.

And I felt the same.

His fingers traced a slow path down my arm, igniting a trail of fire on my skin as he moved closer, his body aligning with mine. The gentle pressure of his chest against mine sent waves of sensation crashing through me, and I didn’t want to fight it anymore. His touch was electric, sparking something deeper, something raw between us that I couldn't quite name.

“I want to make you feel good,” he murmured, his voice deep and thick, laced with a promise. His lips brushed against my neck as he pulled me closer, his warmth enveloping me completely. The subtle movements of his hands were deliberate, slow—his fingertips grazing over my skin like he was savoring the moment, like he never wanted it to end.

I closed my eyes, giving in to the feeling of him, of his presence filling every space between us. His lips trailed soft, heated kisses along my neck, then dipped lower, his breath warm against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. My pulse raced, every inch of me aching with desire for more.

Without warning, he moved—his hands gripping my waist as he lifted me effortlessly. My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, my hands slipping into his hair, feeling the weight of his body against mine as he turned us toward the bookshelf. The cool wood met my back with a soft thud, but I didn’t feel the coldness; I felt only the heat of him, pressing into me, his lips returning to mine in a deep, consuming kiss.

James held me against the bookshelf. His grip on me was firm, but there was a tenderness in the way he held me, as if he were afraid to break something delicate. But there was nothing delicate about this—nothing about the fire burning between us was fragile. It was raw, powerful, and undeniable.

I gasped softly as his lips found my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire. “You’ve made me feel amazing, but now I want to make you feel everything.”

His hands trailed down my body, gently pushing me back against the bookshelf as he moved in closer, his body fitting perfectly against mine. The pressure of him, the heat radiating from his skin—it was overwhelming, intoxicating.

You’re perfect,” he whispered, the words rough with emotion, as if he couldn’t believe this was really happening.

I closed my eyes, savoring the sound of his voice, the way he said my name like a prayer. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I responded instinctively, my body moving closer to his. I could feel his cock rubbing in my clit.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire. His lips found mine again, kissing me deeply, his tongue brushing against mine with a slow, intoxicating rhythm. I couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped from me, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

He deepened the kiss, sending shivers through my spine, and I felt a spark of heat ignite within me. His kiss was fire, melting away every ounce of hesitation, leaving only raw need and yearning. I couldn’t remember a time when I felt so alive, so completely attuned to another person.

He broke the kiss, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that took my breath away. “Are you sure, Y/n?” His voice was a whisper, but there was a hardness to it now, a hint of desperation. “I don’t want to push you… but I need you.”

I swallowed, my heart racing in my chest. I wasn’t sure if I could find the words, but I didn’t need to. My body was speaking for me, my hands reaching down to pull him closer, feeling the heat of his skin, the hardness of his body against mine. Every inch of me wanted him, craved him, and I could no longer pretend otherwise.

“I’m sure,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of everything we were about to share. “I want this. I want you.”

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, and without another word, he lifted me effortlessly, his hands gripping my waist as he pressed me more firmly against the bookshelf. The sudden movement took me by surprise, but the moment our bodies aligned, a shudder of anticipation ran through me. I gasped as his lips found my ear, his breath sending a wave of heat through me.

“Now it’s my turn to make you feel good,” he whispered against my skin, his voice husky with desire. “Let me show you just how much I’ve wanted this, how much I wanted to fuck you all of you”

The intensity in his voice made me weak in the knees. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the wood of the bookshelf, and let him guide me, his hands firm but gentle as he positioned me just right. He was so close now that I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips trailing hot kisses down my skin.

I felt the pulse of heat between us grow, every second making my body ache with need. He pressed into me slowly, deeply, and I gasped at the sensation, the feeling of him filling me in a way that felt both overwhelming and perfect. I didn’t know if I could take it, but I didn’t care. Every inch of me was alive with need, and I moaned softly, feeling him shift his position just slightly to allow for a deeper connection.

“James…” I whispered, my voice barely a breath. The sound of his name on my lips felt like a confession, like a promise of everything that was happening between us.

His name escaped him in a low groan, his hands gripping my hips as he started to move against me, the rhythm slow and deliberate. He was teasing me, pushing me to the edge, and I couldn’t help the way my body reacted, how my breath hitched, how my nails dug into his shoulders.

“You feel so good, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure as he kissed the sensitive skin on my neck. “I can’t get enough of you.”

The pressure between us was building, and every move he made seemed to bring us closer to the edge. His hands moved to my chest, caressing my breasts with a tenderness that made me shiver. He pinched my nipple softly, and I moaned, arching into him, wanting more.

He kissed me again, his lips hungry, desperate. I felt the way he kissed me, not just with passion, but with a deep, aching need, as though he couldn’t get enough of me, couldn’t stop himself. I let myself melt into him, responding to each touch, each kiss, each movement as if my body had a mind of its own.

His rhythm grew more urgent, and with each thrust, I felt myself getting closer to the edge, the tension in my body so tight I thought I might snap. My moans grew louder, more desperate, matching the frantic pace he set, until finally, with one deep, almost desperate thrust, I felt myself breaking apart, my body trembling as I found release.

“J-James, I’m cumming” "I moaned softly, my body trembling from the intensity of his thrusters.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire, his hands holding me closer as the tension between us reached its peak. “Let me know how much you want this.”

His name spilled from my lips again, a breathless cry, and the sound of it seemed to push him over the edge. I felt him tense, his body shuddering against mine as he followed me, his deep groan echoing in my ear. We both froze for a moment, suspended in the aftermath, the air thick with our combined breaths.

We stayed like that, locked in each other's arms, unable to let go of the connection we had created. James pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me, his breath coming in soft pants against my ear. I could hear the steady beat of his heart, and I rested my head against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.

As we stood there, our bodies still entwined, the world outside the small office seemed to fade away. The only sounds were our ragged breathing, slowly starting to calm. My chest rose and fell against his, and I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. The air between us was heavy, but now it felt different—more peaceful, more grounded.

James pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me like a protective cocoon. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, allowing the quiet to settle over us. We didn’t speak for a long time, and I didn’t mind. It felt good to just be in this moment, to be connected to him in a way I hadn’t ever expected.

Finally, James spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. “You okay?” he asked, his hand gently stroking my hair, as though making sure I was still with him, still here.

I nodded, lifting my head to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of desire and something softer, something I hadn’t expected to see. “Yeah… more than okay,” I whispered, smiling up at him, my heart still racing in the aftermath of everything that had just happened. But as the excitement ebbed away, a quiet realization began to settle in.

There was still so much we hadn’t said, so much unspoken. The weight of the situation was slowly sinking in. James was married. That fact hadn’t disappeared in the heat of the moment, and now that things were calm, I felt the tug of uncertainty.

I hesitated for a moment before speaking. “James…” My voice was soft, unsure. “What about your wife? What does this mean?”

He paused, his fingers gently brushing my cheek as he considered his words. His brow furrowed slightly, and for the first time since we’d come together, there was a moment of vulnerability in his expression. He took a breath, clearly weighing the truth before responding.

“Things aren’t... what they seem," he said slowly, his voice quieter than before. "It’s complicated, Y/n. I’m not... I’m not happy in my marriage. I haven’t been for a long time.” He swallowed hard, his eyes not leaving mine as if searching for some sign that I understood. “I never meant for this to happen with you, but I can’t deny what I feel. What we’ve shared... it feels real. More real than anything else right now.”

I felt the weight of his words, a mixture of relief and sadness swelling inside me. My heart ached for him, for the situation he found himself in. I wanted to ask more questions, to understand the full depth of what he was going through, but instead, I found myself in his arms, my face pressed against his chest once again, trying to hold onto the feeling of being close to him.

“So, what does this mean?” I asked, my voice a little shaky, but I needed to know. "What do we do now?"

He exhaled deeply, running his hand through his hair, looking away for a moment before meeting my gaze again. There was something intense in his eyes, something that told me this wasn’t just a fleeting moment for him.

“I don’t know what the future holds, Y/n,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “But I know that right now, I don’t want to let go of this. I don’t want to let go of you.” He looked down at me, his expression full of raw emotion. “If you wanted to stay… I wouldn’t stop you.”

The offer hung in the air between us, and I could feel the weight of it. It wasn’t just about the physical connection we’d shared—it was about something deeper, something more fragile.

“I’m not asking you to leave her,” I said quietly, my heart aching. “But what happens now? What do we do with what we’ve just… what we’ve just done?”

James gently lifted my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. His touch was tender, almost apologetic, as if he were afraid of the emotions he might be stirring. “I don’t want to complicate things for you, Y/n. But I can’t pretend that this doesn’t mean something to me.”

His words lingered in the space between us, and I could feel the shift—the weight of our shared desire, and the vulnerability that came with it. He wasn’t asking me for anything. He wasn’t rushing into anything. But the offer, the possibility, was there, hanging in the quiet.

“I think we need time,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. "We both do."

James nodded slowly, his lips brushing against my forehead in a soft kiss. “Yeah, time,” he echoed, his hand still holding me close. “But I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. Not if you don’t want me to.”

I closed my eyes, letting the quiet settle between us, and for a moment, there was no pressure, no confusion—just the two of us, holding onto something fleeting, yet real.

“I don’t want you to go either,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, but sincere.

And for a moment, we simply stood there, lost in the warmth of each other’s arms, our hearts beating as one, unsure of what tomorrow would bring, but certain of this—this connection, this moment, was something we both wanted to hold on to.

#metallica #metallica oneshot #metallica fanfiction #jameshetfield #jameshetfieldxreader #james hetfield one shot #metallica smut #james hetfield x you #james hetfield imagine #james hetfield smut #metalica x you #nausicaamusiclover20

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domesticgoddess22 · 5 hours ago

Text

banana creampie

a thanksgiving one shot

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader summary: Your dad is hosting Thanksgiving this year, and he's invited his closest friends, including Joel Miller, who drives you to get ingredients for your famous banana cream pie. warnings: dbf!joel, age gap (early 20s/mid 40s), car sex, unprotected piv, daddy kink, breeding kink, cowgirl, rough sex, creampie, daddy issues, TLOU AU no outbreak, dubcon, praise kink word count: 3.3k rating: explicit MDNI

Happy Holidays <3 This is a little something I cooked up on Thanksgiving day, so I hope you enjoy it. Sorry it isn't edited yet.

~~~~~~~~

Rays of orange spilled across the living room carpet, the sun peeking through the curtains that ebbed and flowed to the cool Austin breeze. The slivers of the light that dotted the couch warmed your bare legs, still shining from the lotion you lathered yourself up with. You turned the TV volume to blasting to overpower the chaotic sounds of your dad’s cooking.

“You gonna get dressed and help your old man out here, kiddo?” Your dad’s head poked out from around the archway that led to the kitchen, a greasy spatula in hand and your brow furrowed at the drips that now splattered on the white tile.

“I am dressed,” you contested, eyes rolling into the back of your head. You just came back from college, celebrated your twenty-second birthday even, but your dad would always see you as a kid.

He frowned, eyes closing as he shook his head in disapproval before dipping back into the kitchen. It would take some getting used to, your new attire since coming back from NYU, that is. If there’s one thing your fashion degree taught you, it’s how to dress. You wore a juniper green corset top, laced up from the front and tied together to display your breasts nicely. The top was fashioned with a black, skin tight mini skirt with a slit along the right thigh, leaving little to the imagination.

You groaned, rolling off the couch lazily, but careful enough not to ruin your hair. Big, glossy curls cascaded down your back, bouncing slightly as you stood. There was a bow as red as wine that held your hair together in a half updo, so any cream from the pie you were about to make wouldn’t splash into your hair.

You dragged your feet to the kitchen, cracking open the pantry and digging for the ingredients to make your famous banana cream pie.

“So whose all comin’ again?” You asked, eyeing the recipe to determine if you should still double the portions. You knew your dad’s friends were comin’, they always did, but you figured you’d check and make sure there wasn’t any changes.

“Donna and Rick, Keith, Rob,” your dad began listing off his friends, cursing when a splash of sausage grease sprayed his arm. “Oh yeah, and Joel and Sarah are comin’.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh?” You tried to come off casual, like your heart wasn’t about to burst in your chest at the sound of your dad’s best friend–the hottest guy on the block. “Thought they were goin’ to Tommy’s this year?”

“They were, but Tommy and Maria are sick, so there’s been a change of plans,” your dad said, oblivious to how Joel’s name reddened your cheeks.

“That okay?” Your dad finally asked when you didn’t say anything.

“‘Course, why wouldn’t it be?”

“I guess I forgot to tell ya with all the holiday craziness, it must of slipped my mind. Do you have enough ingredients to make your little tart?”

“Pie,” you corrected. “It’s a banana cream pie, dad.” You chewed your cheek, annoyed with his inability to pay any attention to you.

“Right, of course, of course. Do you have everything you need?” He’s half focused on checking the turkey now, the oven door screeching at the hinges as he stabs a thermometer into the near-browning meat.

“Actually, I’m gonna need more cream if I double this recipe.” You frowned, thinking about how you’d need to run to the store on Thanksgiving day and fight traffic and long lines. Not to mention, you haven’t gotten your license yet, there was no need for it in New York with all the subways and taxi cabs.

“Call Joel ‘n ask him to be a doll and pick some up for you ‘fore he gets here.”

You slipped back into the living room, away from the hiss of sausages cooking, and flipped your phone open. Joel picked up, the sound of his rumbly voice left you forgetting what it was you called for in the first place.

“Hey, darlin’. What do you need?”

“Hey. Was just wonderin’ if you could be a doll and pick up some heavy cream for me before you get here?”

You heard him laugh through his nose. “On Thanksgiving Day?”

“The stores are open for a half-day,” you said flatly. “But I guess if you don’t want my famous banana cream pie, then don’t bother.” There was a sweet, playful lilt to your tone at the latter, but their was a shuffling sound followed by a car door slamming.

You heard the sound of the front door crank open, as old and rusty as it was, and your head whipped around to see the very man you were on the phone with. He held a case of bears in his other hand. The two of you mirrored each other, flipping your phones shut.

“Look who decided to come back from New York.” Maybe it was wishful thinking or ovulation that was playing tricks on your mind, but you swore that his eyes clung to your hips, your breasts.

“For now.” You said, ending the conversation right then and there. You didn’t want to entertain questions about what direction your career was going in and all that bullshit that you didn’t have answers to. “So I take it you’re not gettin’ cream then?”

“Didn’t say that. 'Course I want your pie.” He smirked at you right as Sarah came flying in, a giant sack of potatoes in her hand. She nearly jumped out of her boots when she saw you, screaming your name in excitement.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here!” Sarah dropped the potatoes on the floor with a thump, rushing to hug you. Your arms tightened around her, breathing in the sweet, citrusy scent of her curls.

“Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in forever! And you’ve gotten so big!” It was true. Last time you saw Sarah was probably a year ago. She had just started middle school, but now she was almost as tall as you. “What, did ya hit a growth spurt or something?!” She beamed at you proudly.

“I’m 5’1” now!”

“Where’s your dad?” Joel asked.

“Kitchen. Makin’ a mess, cooking up a storm.”

“Hey bud,” you hear Joel say casually to your dad. And then you hear him say that he’s going to take you to the store, ordering Sarah to get started on the potatoes while the two of you run out. You feel your face go hot and your palms all sweaty at the thought of being alone with Joel. The two of you have never been alone before.

You rush to the side table, dotting your lips with a subtle, pink gloss. Joel strides back into the living room.

“Alright, let’s go.”

“It takes two people to go pick up some cream?” You taunt, and not quite sure why you do. Your heart was soaring at just the thought of being alone with him, and maybe it was because of that you put on the facade. The mask that you didn’t want to, just so he didn’t somehow find out that you were dying to be around him.

“Did New York teach you to be this sassy? I liked it better when you were just Texas sassy.” He smirked, grabbing his keys and motioning for you to follow him to the front of the house to his truck parked in the driveway. Still the same old chevy. Still the same old Joel.

“Aww, are you sayin’ you missed me?” You liked keeping up with his playful, teasing banter.

“We all did.” There was a sweet look in those big brown eyes that, for the first time, locked on yours. “Didn’t think you were gonna come back to this old town.”

“Yeah, I’m still figuring things out I guess. New York… wasn’t everything I had imagined it would be.” The thought seeped in and you felt the pang of disappointment.

“You’re young. You have plenty of chances to try things, fuck up, and then try som’ new.”

The engine roars to life, and you realize then that you were freezing. But it was too late to change now, Joel was already halfway down the block by the time you really gave it some thought.

“Those flimsy pieces of fabric not keepin’ you warm?” He gave you a quick side glance. He sounded like a scolding father with the way he said it. Not the same judgement as your dad, but of a similar breath, as if to say ‘I told you you shouldn’t have worn that in this weather.’

“I’m fine,” you scowled, but Joel must not have believed you as he cranked up the heater.

“I have a sweatshirt in the back, you can wear that when we get out.” He jabbed a thumb toward the back of the cab, and then gave you another side glance, this time his eyes were on your thighs. “I know I ain’t your dad but–”

“No, you’re not.”

“You wear som’ like that, on a day like today, Kieth is gonna get drunk and his eyes’ll be all over you,” his face scrunched in disgust.

“I can handle Kieth,” you snorted. Kieth was your dad’s other friend, one that has been blatantly lusting after you every time you’ve come to visit. Your dad never seemed to notice, but it seemed like Joel had.

“Or…” You teased, lips pulling into a cat-like smile. “I can just let him look at me, if he wants to. He’s a decent looking guy, could probably use a little fun since he’s been divorced for what, two years now? Three?” In all honesty, if Kieth hadn’t been standing next to Joel every time he came around, you’d probably think he was the hottest guy on the block.

Joel’s grip around the steering wheel tightened. “You like him?”

“I dunno. I’m young, I don’t know what I want. I have plenty of time to fuck up.”

“My advice to you? Don’t fuck up with Keith. Guy’s a fuckin’ mess. And your dad would probably kill him.”

Your head slams back against the headrest and you let out a roaring laugh. “My dad wouldn’t even notice.”

“He would.”

“Well, then who should I fuck up with then?”

“That’s for you to decide, darlin’.” Joel’s voice was low, his sweet Texan tang like music to your ears.

“But not really because you said I can’t have Keith, so who does that leave me with? You?” You bit your lip and smiled while Joel continued to look straight ahead at the open road. “I guess it’s only fair. It’s only been three years since Kieth’s divorce, but it’s been nearly a decade for you.”

It was quiet for a minute, and you worried that you pushed to far. Flirted to hard. You waited for him to scold you, say something and make you feel ashamed for your advances and commenting on his failed marriage.

“You’re gonna piss off your old man, sleepin’ with all his friends,” Joel finally said, and it was that comment that gave you the opening to press forward. Joel put the car in park when you pulled up to the country market, the lot nearly empty. Not quite as a packed as you thought it’d be.

“Not all of them.” Your gaze bore down at his lap and then slowly, slowly let your eyes roam up his chest until you met his, lookin up at his through thick lashes, biting your lip. “Just one.”

He shifted in his seat, cracking open the chevy door. “Let’s get your cream.”

You wore Joel’s sweatshirt, just like he told you to. It smelled like him, a musky, woody scent that made your pulse quicken with each inhale. He trailed behind you as you all but skipped down the aisles, heading straight for the cream. You grabbed another set of bananas too, just in case you needed to top off the pie. Joel was eerily silent the entire time, and you hoped it was because he was horny, not becuase he was mad. Or maybe it was a little bit of both. You smiled devilishly at the thought.

When you dropped the bananas and cream on the belt, you pulled out a few bucks to pay for it all, but Joel’s wallet was already out, handing the cashier a few bills. “Hey, I was gonna pay for it.”

The cashier, a kind old woman, bless her soul, just smiled at the two of you. “Let daddy pay.” Your face dropped and Joel stiffened, grabbing the receipt and storming out. You tail after him, but his footsteps eat the ground, and you’re practically running to keep up.

“Woah, woah, woah! Slowdown their cowboy, I’m not used to running this much.”

He flung the door open, jumped in the truck and took a long, deep breath. He was silent again. Joel was always a man of few words, and you always wondered what he was thinking. There were times over summer break–when you’d come back to visit, wearing nothing but a string bikini while you splashed around in his pool–you wondered if he thought of you.

“Is everything okay?” You tore his sweatshirt off, feeling the heat build up on your skin now that something was amiss with Joel.

Joel groaned quietly, letting his elbow rest on the side door and burying his eyes in his left palm.

“You’re so young. We shouldn’t be… shouldn’t be talkin’ like this. It ain’t right.”

“I thought we were just havin’ fun.” You said, eyebrows stitching inward at the fear of rejection.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s fun.”

“Then what’s the problem?” An innocent question, and then your eyes trailed back down to his pants and it was then that you realized you didn’t need an answer.

“Seeing you, prancing around in your little fuckin’ skirt and your shirt that barely covers your tits… fuck. I–that’s part of why I gave you my sweatshirt. So I didn’t have to look at you and torture myself anymore.” He starts, slowly turning his gaze to look at you. “But it didn’t make a difference. You… are so fuckin’ gorgeous I can’t hide my desire. Can’t go back to your dad’s like this.” He buried his face in his palm again, wishing away his erection.

Wetness pooled between your thighs at his confession. You felt your mouth water as you eyed the length of him through his jean, a pulsing throbbing mass that you’d give anything to have a taste of.

“Then let’s not go back like that.”

He turned back to you, slowly. You exchanged a look of mutual agreement, and as he opened his mouth to respond, you slid a leg over him and perched yourself on his lap, straddling him. Feeling the heat of him through the fabric of your panties. He rolled the sit back slowly, and then ground his hips against yours, his mouth hot on your neck, sucking and licking at your sensitive skin. The hair of his beard scraped against your chest and shoulder, but you didn’t care.

“Baby…” he whispered into your ear, hands groping your mounds, thumbing the sensitive peaks. And then his mouth was back to sucking your neck, pulling soft moans from your lips as he did so. He slid his hand up your shirt, his calloused palm flush against your bare skin. His body heat warmed you in the cold november air.

Your moans became louder and more frequent with every fondling stroke of his hands on your breasts, your hips, and your ass. The wetness of his tongue against your neck. You cried out his name, begging, pleading him for more as your ground your hips on his lap. He groaned in approval.

“This what you want?” He asked, teasinglly pulling your pants to the side and letting his finger feel the wetness there before pulling away.

“Yes, yes, please, please, please.”

And then he let his fingers slide along your clit before rubbing in a smooth, circular motion. “Fuck, you’re wet…”

You moaned and begged him to continue, and your sweet cries left him thirsty for your lips. His mouth locked onto yours, tongue exploring you without any reservation. He kissed you roughly, like you belonged to him, and when you moaned at his touch between your legs, the rumbling growl that came from somewhere deep within his chest poured into your mouth. You cried out, spreading your legs as far as you could in the driver’s seat and let yourself fall into the white hot release, body convulsing as he rubbed you through your high.

As you came too, you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling. His cock was out not even a second later, the massive, swollen head slick with precum. He was huge, both in girth and length, and you almost shied away. Worried he wouldn’t fit. But he didn’t give you time to turn back as he lifted your hips from his lap, lined up at your entrance, and then forced you down on him in one long stroke.

“Good girl,” he said into your ear.

You screamed, biting his shoulder to hold back any other screams that might tear from your lungs and give you both away. Your hips moved on their own accord, bouncing on his cock, bigger than any dildo you’d ever used.

“Joel… fuck me! Please, please!”

His hips bucked up, slammed into you, somehow deeper with every thrust. He growled, eyes trained on your bouncing breasts that are now exposed, the corset snug underneath them, propping them up for his pleasure. His hands found a spot on your hips, gripping you hard enough to bruise.

He slammed into you, filling you to the brim in violent thrusts. You continued to bounce, your movements matching his but his stamina outmatched yours and you let him use your body for his pleasure. He fucked you, the truck bouncing in rhythm to his thrusts, the sound of Pink Floyd’s Shine On You Crazy Diamond playing quietly on the radio. You thanked God for the cold air fogging the windows of the truck, otherwise you’d be on display for the world.

“Come inside me, please daddy.” You begged, and then wrapped our arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

And that’s what undid him. You. Both of you. Joel bucked his hips into you in sloppy, violent thrusts. You screamed, reaching the blissful release again, screaming daddy, daddy, daddy as he took you there, pouring his white hot cream into you in an endless load. You begged him for more and he buried himself into you.

And then your body went limp against his. Once bouncy, boisterous curls now sticking to the sweat on both of your faces.

“Fuck…” Joel groaned, pulling his cock out of you. Both of you pulled yourselves back together. You combed your fingers through your hair and Joel handed you a wipe to clean yourself up. “‘M too old to be this impulsive. Look what you did to me.”

You smirked, wiping the white milk from between your legs. “And I’d do it again.”

When Joel pulled up to the driveway, you noticed more cars parked out front. “Looks like everyone else showed up.”

Keith was in the living room as you and Joel entered the house, a frown plastered on his face when he looked at you, your neck, and then cast a glance at Joel. You looked in the mirror by the door and found a hickey the size of a golfball tattooed on your neck, covering it with your curls as soon as your realized the evidence.

“Hey, look who finally came back!” Your dad strolled over, a smile on his face that you knew would be wiped away the second he found out what you did with his best friend just moments ago. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yeah, we got the cream.”

More cream than you needed, actually.

#joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel x you #the last of us #fanfic #dbf!joel

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lightlycareless · 2 days ago

Note

I was reading your scorned ex husband stories and they made me so sad(especially the second one) then I started thinking about the twin au and like what if the twins parent trap them in a different divorced au? Lol. Naoya is still a dick obviously for splitting up twins(seriously who would do that??) but maybe not completely irredeemable for Y/N to forgive him 🥺 Hehe this is just something silly I thought up and wanted to share

Hellooooooo

Heheh this got me watching the movie again, right in the nostalgia. It had been so long since I last saw it that I actually didn't remember most of it, but I do think however: how the hell did they think that was a good idea 🤣 gee, talk about parent of the year.

Anyways, some liberties were taken to make the story work, though the premise is essentially the same.

Also, these are the works anon is referring to :) Ex-husband 1 & Ex-husband 2. Now onto the warnings:

Warnings: none major. Naoya is an a_hole, as always. Naomi and Naori are adorable, but poor kids seriously :'(.

Happy reading!!

If Naoya does this, you effectively hate him from that point forward.

It is non-negotiable, you never want to see him ever again, especially after the cruel words he used to justify the separation of his children:

“I only ever cared about Naori anyways.”

You made it your life-long purpose to keep Naomi from someone as despicable as her father—though it hurt you to do so, for it also meant you’d be away from your beloved son; just 2 years into his life… you barely got to make any memories with him before he was stripped away from your arms.

But such was the divorce agreement: the two would keep one child, and out of their lives.

Naoya remains in Kyoto with his son at the Zen’in estate, while you move back to Tokyo, close to your family but distant enough to have your own apartment. Just the two of you, the little home you always wanted.

In an unexpected turn of events, Naomi and Naori would go on completely unaware of each other until enrolling in the same elementary school.

It was almost undetectable at the beginning since Naomi now had your last name—but once teachers and students alike began to realize their physical similarities, it became impossible to ignore.

“No… we don’t look alike.” Naori would quietly complain. Out of the two, he was the least enthusiastic about this advancement, doing his best to avoid the limelight due to his reserved nature.

However, that wouldn’t mean anything to Naomi: ever the bubble one, she was nothing but to have a new best friend that looked just like her!

“We’re almost like twins!” she gasped—same hair color, eyes, height… how could they not? “I’ve always wanted a baby brother too.”

“Well, I don’t! And I could be older too, you know? Besides, why would I want a sister that’s weak and ugly…?”

Intended to hurt her, Naomi only laughed at his words, for it would take much more than that to bring her down—one could even say that the two were reflections of their respective parents in that matter: the only contrast between the two, as a matter of fact.

“That’s not true!” she happily refuted, taking hold of his hand and heading to the playground. “Now, come on! I want to go on the swings, and I need someone to push me!”

Though Naori was greatly unwilling at first, he’d soon warm up to her, mainly because she was part of the few, if not the only, kid that didn’t bother him because of his shyness; always rushing to the rescue whenever bullies began to swarm him, as well as reassure him there was nothing wrong with being the way he was.

And if that wasn’t enough, the food Naomi began to share with him (courtesy of you, after much insistence from her part) effectively validated their friendship.

“When will you ever bring him over?” you tease, it’s the happiest you’d ever seen your daughter! And for that, you couldn’t help but feel glad and obligated to repay the favor.

“I don’t know, mama. Nori-kun tells me his papa can be quite strict.”

You chuckle.

“Well, I’m sure I can convince him next time the parents have a meeting at school.”

“His papa doesn’t go to school.” Naomi frowns, her words making you sad for the poor child. “Says he’s too busy.”

“Oh, that’s awful. Well, what about the mama?”

“He doesn’t have one.”

Your heart longs to comfort him.

If they only knew…

And as time went on and their friendship flourished even more, so did their interests for one another; beyond those of their favorite colors and toys, and more into… personal grounds.

Matters that had always quietly hurt Naori one way or the other since he could remember; more so since you had been nothing but sweet and kind to a figuratively unknown kid, which highlighted the fact he never had that one thing he always wished for.

What he might never have, since his father has long given up on it, considering the way he coldly changes the subject, or completely ignores it. Naori simply… doesn’t talk about it.

Until now.

“Why don’t you have a dad?” He dares to ask; it’s no secret that the one to pick him up at school is one of his father’s many subordinates, always changing, not enough to be interesting to the other parents outside of how rich (or a jerk) he must be to have employees pick up his child.

Compared to you, always spoken of fondly for the following reasons:

If it was Valentine’s Day, you’d send Naomi with a big box of candies so she could share with all the class.

Halloween was the same, even hosting small gatherings if the children wished to celebrate in a safe environment.

If it was a classmate’s birthday, you always made sure to send them a personal gift or attend their birthday party. Your gifts might’ve put some parents to shame from time to time, but it didn’t matter, you kind of grew to be some kind of celebrity thus a few always tried to be on your good side—or Naomi’s, so to speak.

Naomi’s birthday… well, some fought to be on the guest list.

In other words,you were an amazing for both kids and parents alike, enough to inspire Naori to daydream about what it would be to have a loving mother like you—to always be at the door once it was time to leave, patiently waiting for the moment your daughter would come into view and subsequently pick her up into a tight, warm hug, followed by a kiss and wide smile as you urged Naomi to tell you all about her day.

Or more importantly, wonder if you were open to adopting him.

“Oh… that—I… don’t know!” Naomi responds truthfully. “Mama never talks about him.”

“Have you asked her?”

“Once or twice, but all she says is that I should focus on my studies!

…

But I can see how sad she gets whenever I mention him.” She continues. “Mama isn’t very good at hiding “adult talk” and neither is my auntie, so I always get to hear how lonely she is when they talk about him! … and how she should try dating other people, or whatever that means, so she wouldn’t feel like that anymore.”

“I think is when you marry someone.” Naori tries to explain, Naomi scowls out of disgust.

She doesn’t like the idea of sharing her mama with someone else, grows somewhat jealous too.

Well, maybe if it was Uncle Nanami, he’s always been nice to her and her mama. Not Geto because she plans on marrying him herself.

And she supposes her papa too… but how could someone you love make you sad?

“I don’t want her marrying anyone.” Naomi shakes her head. “She’s happy with me!”

“But don’t you wonder about your dad?” he asks. “What did he look like? How did he meet your mom?”

Or how they fell in love?

Naturally. Because just as Naori, and even after you tried your hardest to distract her from it… she too longed to have a father. Someone to play with her after finishing all her homework, put her over his shoulders and let her see the world from his height, or protect her from the monsters that lived inside the closet…

There must be an answer to both of their mysteries—people don’t simply disappear.

And such, is how they assigned themselves a new mission; a task of the upmost importance, requiring all their attention and care if they wish to uncover why they only have one parent—and who was such peculiar character.

Anything that could hint such solution is a chance they’d take, however…

To Naomi, this endeavor proved quite fruitless, for any indication of your past relationship was effectively ripped from the evidence. Quite literally: thousands and thousands of pictures cut in half, neatly removing the person that accompanied her mother—whom she assumed to be her father. And that’s without mentioning your consistent disapproval of the matter. Naomi was right where she began.

This lack of advancement both frustrated her and placed more pressure onto Naori’s efforts, which shockingly, turned to be quite more than what they bargained for. Getting results neither could’ve imagined, not even in their wildest dreams…

“Naomi-chan… I’m not sure if you’re ready to see this.” Naori would caution as he placed down a large wooden box before her, filled with his findings.

“Why? Why not, Naori-kun?” she frets, surely it couldn’t be anything too outrageous.

…Could it?

Yes, it could. And it was.

Because beyond the astonishing realization that all the pictures Naori brought were in virtually perfect shape…

The fact they both recognize the people in the photo, Naomi’s mother, wearing that same bright eyed, wide smile look on her face whenever particularly excited. Happy—alongside Naori’s father, with his usual dyed hair, ear piercings, and striking eyes…

Holding two newborn babies—named Naomi and Naori such as the inscription in the back stated, alongside their birth time and date (Naomi is older, at last is known) …

Is what truly shocked them.

…

You. Naoya.

Naomi and Naori.

Mama and papa.

A family, for all intents and purposes.

What everyone around them proclaimed: siblings.

Naomi and Naori were siblings. Twins.

“Does that mean we—”

Naori nods. If it hadn’t been obvious enough by now.

Nonetheless, as thrilling as this discovery was, for it essentially made their respective dreams come true… another question arose. One that undoubtedly could not proceed unanswered.

“Why aren’t our parents together?”

Or most importantly:

“How can we get them back together?”

“But what if they don’t want to?” Naori frets.

“I told you already! Mama looks very happy wit him, and auntie says she’s very lonely too… besides, if they get back together that means we’ll finally be a happy family! And isn’t that what you wanted?”

Naori presses his lips together, nodding.

“I want a happy family too. I’ve always wanted a papa to play with!” Naomi continues.

“And a mom to hug…” Naori adds. “What do we do?”

First…

Get them together, face to face. In other words, talk. It’s how adults always preached problems got solved.

Since you had given Naomi the impression you’re not interested in anything pertaining to Naori’s dad, she had to get creative. Force you into a position where you wouldn’t be able to ignore her as you’ve done before—and one where Naoya would inevitably have to go to school too.

It had to be a convincing excuse, and since the two were children in need of dire solutions, their innocent minds led them to the most extreme resolution yet.

“I need you to punch me.” Naomi says, determined.

“Why?!” he gasps.

“Because I need to get hurt for mama to come, and if you’re the one in trouble they’ll have to call your papa, and then, the two will be here, just as we planned!”

“Can’t we do something less dangerous…?” Naori doesn’t like the idea of getting in trouble with his strict dad, as if he weren’t insufferable enough…

“No, Naori. It must be this!”

“But I don’t want to punch you…”

“Come on, we have to do it to have a family!!” she insists. “Or do you not want mama to make you food every day? To hug you too??”

He swallows.

“I do.”

“Then do it!”

And… he does. After taking a deep breath, clenching his fist and hitting Naomi in what she could only describe the weakest punch she could’ve ever anticipated. Surely, not enough to make this case convincing.

“Naori! You have to hit harder than that!”

“I—I tried!” he cries.

“No, you didn’t!” she cries back. “You didn’t even try!”

“Ye—yes I did!” Naori frowns. “It’s not my fault I’m not as strong as you!”

“Yeah, right! You’re a boy, you’re supposed to hit harder!” Naomi adds, smirking soon after an idea crosses her mind. “… Then I guess you don’t really want a mama.”

“I do want a mom…”

“No, it’s fine. I should’ve known not to trust you with something so important anyways—” she says, words that brush each and every one of Naori’s insecurities. “You’re just as weak as everyone else says…”

With a frown on his face, and a sour tightness in his chest, little Naori quickly clenched his fist and prepared himself to prove her wrong once and for all. Show that he wanted this just as much as she did—if not more.

Naomi was trying her best to get a rise out of Naori, everything necessary to motivate a genuine hit out of him and get their plan in motion—she never meant any of those words, intended to apologize after all was said and done, though she doubted it would matter once they got what they sought after.

But it was almost comical how it happened, how he miscalculated his steps, how far his hand had to travel to hit Naomi, and how he ended up doing far more than necessary: but convincingly so, in the end. Tripping over her and sending the two tumbling down, loudly hitting the ground in such a motion that had them scraping their skin, and of course, tears following suit.

“Maaaaaaa, I want my mamaaaaa.” Naomi intuitively cried, tightly holding onto the teacher as the two were sent to the infirmary.

Naori didn’t cry much for his father, he rarely did considering his prominent absence, but just one look at his teary face and trembling lip, and it was obvious whom he sought for comfort—the same one the school somehow convinced to come along and deal with this unfortunate incident.

As well as the supposed altercation that made way for all this to happen in the first place.

“No, what do you mean a fight??” You’re the first to arrive, demanding a believable explanation from the teacher. “That’s not—that doesn’t sound like my daughter!”

“I know, I thought the same… but that’s what the kids are saying.” She explains. “That Naomi-chan was inciting Naori-kun to punch her, and that she was even saying awful things to get him to do that. I don’t know what they were doing, if they were playing a game or… I don’t know; all of it is so weird—I’m sorry.”

You sigh.

“It’s fine. There’s no need to stress when it’s already happened.” You explain. “Is the parent of the child here already?”

“Should be soon, but I don’t know if he’s actually coming, Naori’s dad isn’t quite… present.”

You frown at the name.

“Naori? Wasn’t he Naomi’s best friend?”

She nods.

“It just makes everything even more unbelievable… really, what’s gotten to them?”

You hope to figure such when speaking to the poor child your daughter allegedly antagonized, after apologizing for such behavior of course. Which you’d have to deal with after returning home—Naomi… seriously, what could’ve possibly gone through her mind to incite such act? Was she being bullied? Did Naori suddenly decide he no longer wanted to be friends with her?

And why did his name appear to be so… familiar?

You’d figure it out soon enough when entering the infirmary, quickly scanning across the room for your daughter—only to freeze upon locking into Naoya’s; a much smaller, softer version of them, that is.

“Mamaaaaa!!” Naomi quickly cries when seeing you walk past the door, rushing to your side and hugging you tightly, the adrenaline of the whole succession still vivid in her mind. “Mama, it—it hurts a lot!”

Comforting her ought to be your utmost priority, but at the sight of your estranged child, the baby you were forcibly stripped away from… you couldn’t think of anything else but pinching yourself to see if this was a dream—if he was truly there, before you: flesh and bone. After so many years of distance…!

And naturally, hug him. Keep him so, so close to you and never let go; to make up for all the time you’ve spent apart and the things you never got to do because of his undeserving, cruel father…

Who stomped past the door soon after, equally freezing when seeing his estranged child, and ex-wife after 5 years of imposed silence. Startled, as if he hadn’t been the deciding factor behind it all.

Or perhaps, the reason why Naori enrolled in this school in the first place.

“Y/N.”

“Naoya.”

Looks like there’s much to catch up to.

Obviously, part 2 is needed. Essentially where Naoya will disclose more of what the hell was going on in his mind when pulling that stunt, as well as some angst. I have to. hahaha

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this little thing I wrote; I do love it when we indulge into domestic au... but not at the expense of the kids 😭😭😭 think of the children!!! lol.

Well, 0nce again, thank you so much for sending in this ask!! Now take care, and hope to see you soon!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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pbaz7 · 2 hours ago

Text

It'll Always Be Her Chapter III

AN: I'm back with the next part as a few people requested that I post today. Let me know what you think and if you have any ideas of how things should or will play out next.

To say the last few days were tense would be an understatement. Paige had always thought she was good at compartmentalizing, keeping her personal life separate from the rest of her world. But Azzi wasn’t kidding when she said she was done with the hidden flirting. If Paige thought the quiet smirks and whispered comments were bad, Azzi’s new approach was downright audacious—and she wasn’t the only one feeling the heat.

The first instance came after their season opener. The team continuing with tradition celebrated their victory at Ted’s, a local favorite known for its lively atmosphere, privacy, and amazing drinks. Tonight drinks were flowing, the music was loud, and the energy from their win had everyone in high spirits. Paige had just started nursing her third drink when a group of fan girls approached her.

"Paige, right?" one of them asked breathlessly, eyes sparkling. "You were amazing out there! We were totally screaming for you."

Paige smiled, her polite, down-to-earth demeanor shining through as she graciously thanked them. The conversation dragged on, though, and she found herself stuck between answering their rapid-fire questions and trying not to let her eyes wander too much. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, her gaze kept drifting toward Azzi, who was leaning against the bar near their teammates with a devilish grin as if she knew something like this would happen tonight.

Azzi met her eyes and raised her glass in a silent toast, the playful gleam in her eyes promising mischief. Paige could feel her cheeks warming even more.

It wasn’t long before Azzi decided it was time to make her move. She slipped away from her spot at the bar and strode over, moving with a confidence that made heads turn. The fan girls didn't even notice at first, too caught up in their excitement. Azzi, however, made sure to grab their attention.

She leaned in, her voice husky and warm, "Hey, blondie. You look like you need another drink.”

Azzi’s hand lightly brushed against Paige’s arm, sending a surge of heat up her spine. But it didn’t stop there—no, Azzi was determined to make a statement. She leaned closer, her body subtly pressing into Paige’s as she slid into the space between Paige’s legs, standing far too close.

Paige’s heart skipped a beat as Azzi’s fingers lightly traced the top of her thigh, just enough to make her skin prickle. "Seems like you’re the star of the night," Azzi murmured, her lips only inches away from Paige’s ear. "But I think you might need a break from all the attention."

The fan girls stared, their wide eyes flicking between Paige and Azzi, but Azzi didn’t care. In fact, she reveled in it, loving that only her touch could make Paige’s breath catch in her throat. She placed a possessive hand on Paige’s waist and leaned even closer, her lips brushing against Paige’s earlobe as she whispered, "I could make your night a lot more interesting, you know."

The fan girls finally took the hint and began to shuffle away, clearly flustered. Paige could barely even process what had just happened, her mind racing with confusion and excitement.

As the last of the fan girls disappeared into the crowd, Paige leaned back in her chair, trying to act nonchalant, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her. "Well, that was bold," she said, the teasing edge in her voice covering up her flustered state. "Not worried about the rumors you’re about to start?"

Azzi smirked, her fingers still lightly grazing Paige’s arm, and she shrugged with an air of total confidence. "Let them talk," she said, her voice playful yet low. "It’s worth it to see you blush like that." She leaned in just slightly, her lips brushing against Paige’s ear as she added, "Maybe next time, you won’t be able to resist."

Paige’s breath hitched at the suggestion, her mind reeling. Azzi pulled back, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You know I’m just getting started," Azzi teased, enjoying every moment of this. "You better keep up."

Paige laughed, shaking her head, but the truth was, her heart was racing. Azzi’s boldness was a challenge—and she knew that her counterpart always loved a good competition.

…

The night was in full swing, the music pounding through the room and the mood light with laughter and a few too many drinks. Paige was feeling the buzz, her inhibitions loosening as the drinks went down. But there was something nagging at her—the sight of Azzi laughing and dancing, surrounded by people who were getting just a little too touchy. There was one guy in particular who kept lingering too close to Azzi, touching her arm, laughing just a little too loudly. It made Paige’s chest tighten with something unfamiliar, something she wasn’t ready to label yet.

But instead of stewing in frustration, Paige decided that it was her turn to be a little bold now. Her gaze locked onto Azzi across the room, and with a slight smirk, she made her way over to the crowd surrounding her. When she reached Azzi, she didn’t waste any time.

Azzi was holding court in the center of the group, laughing at something one of the guys had said. As Paige approached, she felt a sudden surge of confidence—alcohol and adrenaline mixing in her veins. She stepped right up to Azzi, cutting into the conversation with a playful grin.

"Well, well, look who’s the life of the party," Paige said, her voice a little louder than usual, enough to draw Azzi's attention.

Azzi turned, surprised at first, but her lips curled into a mischievous smile. "Says the campus superstar herself," she teased, her gaze flicking down to Paige’s hand, where she was holding a drink. Before Paige could react, Azzi took the drink right out of her hand, taking a sip as she looked up at Paige through her eyelashes with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"Hey!" Paige laughed, a little taken aback, but the playful challenge in Azzi’s expression made her pulse quicken. "You gonna steal all my drinks now?"

Azzi shrugged, savoring the taste of the drink as she kept her eyes locked on Paige. "Maybe I’ll steal more than that," she said, her tone low and teasing, her lips curling around the rim of the glass.

Paige leaned in slightly, a flirtatious edge to her voice. "You’ve already stolen my attention," she said, her hand brushing against Azzi’s arm as she took a step closer. "What’s next? Are you planning on stealing my heart too?"

Azzi’s smile widened, and she placed the drink down on the table beside them, stepping even closer to Paige. "If I wanted to steal your heart, blondie," she whispered, her voice low and smooth, "I’d have to make sure you’re worth stealing."

Paige’s heart skipped a beat at the boldness of Azzi’s words. She hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn, but the heat between them was undeniable now. "I’m not sure if you can handle me," Paige shot back, her eyes glinting with challenge. "But you can try."

Azzi chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver through Paige’s spine. "I like a challenge," she replied, her gaze never leaving Paige’s. "And you, Paige... you’re definitely a challenge."

Paige took a step closer, closing the space between them, her breath hitching at the way Azzi was looking at her. "Maybe I like making things a little difficult," she murmured, her lips almost brushing Azzi’s as she leaned in just slightly. "Maybe I want to see if you can handle me too."

Azzi’s eyes darkened, the playful glint now tinged with something else, something heavier, as if the air between them had shifted. She didn’t back away. Instead, she closed the gap a little more, her lips just barely brushing against Paige’s ear. "You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into P," she whispered, the words sending a thrill through Paige.

Paige’s breath caught in her throat, and before she could respond, Azzi pulled back, giving her a sly grin. "But that’s the fun of it, isn’t it?"

Paige, still reeling from the closeness, tried to keep her cool but failed. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. "Maybe," she said, her voice breathy but full of intent, "but you're not the only one who can play this game, Azzi."

Azzi’s eyes lit up with excitement. "We’ll see about that," she said, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "But maybe we should just leave the game for later."

Paige nodded, a little breathless from the flirtation, but she wasn’t backing down. "Later," she echoed, her gaze lingering on Azzi as they both stood there in the middle of the dance floor. The tension between them was thick, and neither one was willing to be the first to break it.

…

As the night wore on, the energy in the room started to calm. The music had softened, the crowd thinning as people began winding down. Azzi found herself sitting with Caroline in a quieter corner of the bar, nursing a drink and watching the others slowly slip into their own worlds. Caroline, ever the perceptive one, couldn't help but notice the way Azzi kept glancing toward Paige across the room.

"Alright, I gotta ask," Caroline said, her tone teasing but curious. "What happened with you two? You’ve been practically attached at the hip tonight, eying each other across the bar and yet... here you are. Not exactly at her side, huh?"

Azzi smirked, her gaze following Paige for a moment as the blonde chatted with a group of friends. There was a softness in her eyes, one that Caroline had learned to recognize in Azzi whenever she was looking at Paige. "You’re right," she said, her voice quieter now, the playfulness dimming just a little. "We’ve been close tonight. More than usual, even."

Caroline raised an eyebrow. "So, why aren’t you at home in her bed? Seems like that would be the natural progression from here."

Azzi exhaled slowly, her smile soft but sincere. "It would be, yeah. But as much as I want to go there... it’s not the right time," she explained, her eyes meeting Caroline’s with a mixture of frustration and understanding. "Paige is with Jess. And we both know that... well, we don’t want to do anything until she ends things with her. Jess thinks she’s her girlfriend, no matter how clear things are for us right now and we’re not the type of people to just ignore that."

Caroline nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of her drink. "Yeah, but come on, Azzi," she pressed, her voice laced with amusement. "You two have been making it pretty obvious that something’s going on. I saw the way she was looking at you earlier. And don’t even get me started on how she’s been touching you all night."

Azzi’s lips curled into a wry smile. "It’s a game, Car. We both know what we’re doing. But as much as we can flirt and play this little cat-and-mouse thing... we’re not going to cross the line. At least not yet." She glanced back over at Paige again, her gaze softening as she watched the blonde laugh with her friends. "We’re both good people. And neither of us wants to hurt Jess. I want Paige. I really do. But we’re not going to let things get messy."

Caroline gave Azzi a long look, clearly understanding. "You’re being patient. I get it. But, come on. You’re not gonna let this whole thing with Jess drag on forever, right? You know you two are something. Don’t let it slip through your fingers just because of some messy situation."

Azzi nodded, her fingers tapping on the edge of her glass thoughtfully. "I know," she said quietly, a certain resolve in her voice. "I want this. I want Paige. But it needs to happen the right way. I don’t want to risk tainting something real with mess and confusion. If we’re going to do this, it has to be with everything in the right place."

Caroline leaned back, nodding approvingly. "Alright. I can respect that. But don’t let the waiting game become a trap, you know?"

Azzi chuckled softly, the playful edge returning to her voice. "For now, this game is enough."

As she finished speaking, Paige suddenly appeared at their table, looking a little tipsy but still as radiant as ever. She caught Azzi’s eye, and a smile tugged at her lips. "Hey," Paige said, her voice slightly more subdued now but still warm. "You ready to head back to my suite?"

Azzi’s heart skipped a beat at the simple words, and she couldn’t suppress the small grin that appeared on her face. She looked up at Paige, her expression soft and affectionate. "Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go."

The two stood up together, the familiar buzz between them still crackling in the air. As they walked toward the exit, their arms brushed slightly, a silent reminder of the tension they had been building for days. They didn’t need words. They were content, for now, simply being in each other’s company, the promise of something more hanging in the air between them.

They left Ted’s together, side by side, their shared glances speaking volumes, neither one of them rushing anything, but both silently acknowledging that whatever came next, they were in it together.

…

The next time this tension was undeniably high they were in the weight room the next day.

Paige had always considered herself a pretty disciplined person. She was serious about her workouts, always focused, always pushing herself. But lately, in the presence of Azzi, everything seemed to blur into a haze of tension and unspoken words. The weight room, usually a place where she could clear her mind, was becoming a place where she couldn’t stop thinking about the girl across from her. And today was no different.

They had been joking around all morning, laughing and teasing each other in between sets, but there was something in the air today—something that made the playful banter feel a little too heavy, a little too charged. The tension was so thick between them that it almost felt like the air around them crackled.

“Alright,” Paige said, a smirk tugging at her lips as she clapped her hands together, “time to show you how it’s done.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed, leaning back against the bench as she watched Paige with a confident grin. “You think you’re gonna impress me, huh?”

Paige chuckled and set herself in position, already feeling the adrenaline pumping. “You’d be surprised. You’ve been working with me for a while now. I think you know I’m full of surprises.”

Paige finished her set flawlessly and with a wink, she moved into position to spot Azzi for the bench press. The younger girl settled onto the bench, her focus immediately shifting to the barbell in front of her. But there was a tension in her posture, a sense that something was different today, even if she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Paige's eyes lingered on Azzi’s form as she settled, her muscles flexing under her shirt as she prepared for the set. There was something about the way Azzi moved that Paige had always admired, but today felt like the perfect time to tell the younger girl this.

As Azzi lowered the bar to her chest, Paige adjusted her grip, hovering just above her. Her tone was light, teasing, but there was a hint of something darker underneath. “You’re doing great, Azzi. Just like that. You know, you’ve got such a beautiful form… it’s hard to concentrate when you’re looking at me like that.”

Azzi’s breath caught for a split second as she looked up at Paige. She hadn’t been expecting that kind of comment, especially not with so many people around. But the glint in Paige’s eyes made it clear that this was more than just a passing remark. The older girl was baiting her.

“Is that so?” Azzi teased, trying to keep her voice steady, but there was an edge to it now, something that hadn’t been there before. “What, you think you can distract me while I’m lifting?”

Paige smirked, her lips curving in a way that made Azzi’s stomach flip. “I think you might like it. You seem to like when I’m close. You’re doing so good though, but I might need to help you a bit more. Want me to talk you through it?”

Azzi’s eyes narrowed playfully, but the challenge in her gaze shifted into something more intense. “You’re not shy, are you?” she asked, her voice dipping into something lower. She was starting to feel the pull too—this was the game they had been playing, but today, it felt like it was about to break.

Paige’s voice was soft but provocative, right in Azzi’s ear. “I don’t need to be shy when you’re so easy to read. It’s not hard to tell you like when I get close.”

The tension between them thickened, the playful atmosphere from earlier now giving way to something far more charged. Paige leaned forward, a hand brushing Azzi’s shoulder as she hovered close, not letting go of her spot. She could feel Azzi’s body react under her touch, her chest rising and falling with the exertion of the set.

“Paige…” Azzi’s voice was barely a whisper now, but there was no mistaking the heat in it.

Paige smiled, the teasing edge never leaving her voice. “You know, Azzi, you’re really good at keeping things under control. But I’m starting to wonder how long you’ll be able to do that when I’m so close.”

The younger girl’s eyes flickered, caught between a flash of amusement and a deeper, darker desire. It was as if a switch had flipped in her mind, and now, she was just as bold as Paige had been. Azzi’s breath hitched, her eyes meeting Paige’s with a mischievous grin. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” she said, a hint of defiance in her voice. She finished the set with an extra burst of energy, and Paige noticed the shift in her—the way her hands gripped the bar with more intensity, how her eyes never left Paige’s.

Paige couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at her lips. “Oh, I’m definitely going to find out. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to keep an eye on you. Wouldn’t want you to lose control.”

Azzi laughed softly, but the sound was almost a challenge in itself. “You think you can keep me under control, huh?”

Paige leaned in even closer, the heat between them palpable now. Her voice was barely a whisper, low and teasing. “I think I can handle it. I’m starting to realize I might enjoy watching you lose control better though.”

The comment was out before Paige could think better of it. Azzi’s eyes widened for a brief second, caught off guard by the directness of it, but there was a flicker of something darker in her gaze. Paige was playing the game differently now, and Azzi found herself intrigued, maybe even a little rattled.

Azzi took a deep breath, gathering herself before speaking, her tone laced with a teasing edge. “Well, you’ve got me curious now. Let’s see who loses control first.” She pushed the bar back up with a confident grunt, her body moving fluidly as she caught Paige’s gaze again. “But don’t think I’m the only one who can push boundaries.”

The words lingered in the air between them, and for a moment, neither of them moved, as if the world outside the two of them had disappeared entirely. The only thing that mattered was the heat that surged between their gazes, the pulse of their shared breath.

Before either of them could continue down the dangerous path they were on, CD’s voice broke through the haze. “Alright, ladies, let’s move on to the next rotation.”

The interruption was almost a relief. Almost. Paige took a step back, her chest still rising and falling rapidly, trying to steady herself. Azzi, on the other hand, exhaled slowly, a sly smile playing at the corners of her lips as she stood up, brushing off her shirt with a nonchalant air. But there was still that charged look in her eyes—the one that told Paige everything they’d just experienced wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

“Later, Paige,” Azzi said softly, her voice a teasing murmur as she turned to walk away, leaving Paige behind to wonder just how much further they could take this game before it consumed them both.

#pazzi

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foldingfittedsheets · 7 months ago

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Most parents I think worry or wonder when their kid might finally start repeating swear words they hear. The tale of my initiation into the world of cursing was the subject of family lore however.

First, to set the scene, my nana spent a lot of time with me when I was young. She lived with us briefly and I firmly cemented my place as number one favorite grandchild by climbing up into her attic room to cuddle on the regular.

She’d take me on errands and watch me when my parents were at work. She even once lured me away when she ran into my dad watching me at a store. She didn’t think he was keeping a close enough eye and called me over to her a few aisles away.

I happily complied since I loved and recognized her, then we watched my dad for several minutes before he finally looked down, saw me missing, and panicked. “That’ll teach you to keep a better eye on her!” My nana scolded him, convinced that every babynapper was slavering for her precious redheaded grandbaby.

So one day my mom had me in the car. We were driving along and from my back seat I chirped, “Can we play pretend?”

My mom smiled, imagining I’d start narrating some silly adventure or something. “Sure.”

“Shit shit SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

My mom sat stunned in the front seat, baffled momentarily by the stream of cursing.

After careful questioning it was pretty obvious what had happened. My nana had sworn up a storm in front of me but didn’t want to come clean about it to my parents when I started repeating it. She’d instead invented a fun game and the rules were that I could only curse when we were playing our special pretend game.

My mom was furious, and my nana got a sound dressing down both for the cursing but more importantly for the lying.

My favorite time telling this story though was to a girl in high school. She listened with wide eyes then asked, “Did your mom fire her?”

“What?”

“Your nana? Did she get fired?”

“My…. Grandmother? Did my mom fire my grandmother??”

“Ohhhhh. Not the nanny then.”

#ramblies #funny #ffs foibles #writing #story #shit kids say #I’m sick and channeling lore #family lore #nana

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nezuscribe · 18 days ago

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life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didn’t know his clients names, they didn’t know his. he’d send over proof of his work, they’d wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.

so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesn’t think much about it. sure he thinks it’s cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most he’s ever been offered for a one shot job, so he’s not an idiot to turn this offer down.

and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.

he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.

gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.

and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. it’s just business to him. but there’s something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.

maybe it’s the fact that the weeks he’s spent trailing after you he’s noticed you’re pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you don’t seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have done…nothing wrong.

you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never yell when you’re on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.

it all comes to a moment when you’re at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and you’ve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.

he’s right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.

your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, “i’m so so sorry! i didn’t even see you there - gosh,” you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, “i can’t believe…!” you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you don’t hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.

“it’s alright,” he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. “don’t even worry about it, accidents happen.” it’s the first time he’s seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.

because you’re pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way you’re nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and there’s a lump forming in his chest, something he’s never felt before.

“no, no,” you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, “and it’s stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be and…” your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.

it’s more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think it’s not enough as you look for more.

“it’s no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,” gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.

“no, please take it, it’ll be on my mind all day if you don’t,” you insist, but he’s shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.

“and it’ll be on my conscience all day if i take it,” he promises you, and after you realize he’s not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.

of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.

“this is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,” you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, “please don’t hesitate to call me, i know stains and that’s gonna be really hard to get out,” you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.

“i’m really sorry, again, but i have to go,” you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.

gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.

almost as if he didn’t already know it, almost as if you weren’t the girl he’s supposed to kill.

and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because he’d rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and he’s never felt this dread before.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo drabble #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk drabble #satoru x reader

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fangirl-dot-com · 6 months ago

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☀️Sons, Sons, and More Sons

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader Genre: Fluff/SMAU Summary: Ollie, Leo, Liam, who's next Oscar? Oh.

inspired by @pucksandpower 😊

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

“CHARLES!”

The said Monegasque, who had been “innocently” snuggling his four-legged son, winced at the force and volume of your voice.

He was currently going through everything that might have upset you in the past 20 minutes from when he got home to you just now getting out of the shower. Did he leave the toilet seat up again? Or did he forget to sort the laundry? Or maybe he didn’t clean up Leo’s toys from the bedroom?

“Why is my Twitter blowing up?”

Oh. That’s why.

He whispered to Leo, “I’m in for it now.”

And then in a louder voice he yelled, “Yes mon amour?”

You rounded the corner of the hallway and stopped in the opening to the living room, crossing your arms. “Care to tell me why I’m getting tagged in almost every Twitter post about you adopting Oscar?”

You wanted to break at the puppy eyes that your boyfriend was currently giving you, but you needed to stay strong. You needed to show that a man could not sway your feelings. Too bad that man was Charles Leclerc, the one that men and women alike fell to worship the ground beneath his feet.

You couldn’t break.

Charles brought his hand up to ruffle his hair, something he did to express some nervousness.

“Cheri, it was just a joke. Oscar somehow finds heritage in a lot of countries. He just wanted to keep the joke going.”

“So you decided to ‘adopt’ him so he can have another home race?”

“Maybe?”

“Don’t you already have enough sons anyway? I think four is too many or our house is going to overflow on family night.”

Charles’s eyebrows pinched in confusion. “Four?”

Now it was your turn to smirk. “Yes, four. Or are you too busy having fun with Leo to be a present father to your other two?”

Charles tried to wrack his brain about who could be the other two.

“Ollie?”

“Bingo.”

He leaned back into the couch, hands still gently petting Leo who had decided to fall asleep in the middle of his parent’s squabbles. The golden puppy was content on his dad’s warm chest, the rise and fall rocking him to sleep.

The Ferrari driver sighed. “I don’t even know.”

You waved your phone at him. “Twitter might be able to help you. I need to get dressed since I was rudely interrupted. I hope you find out before they get here for dinner.”

Charles shot up making Leo yelp away from his nap. Now that he was really looking at you, he realized that you were just in a towel. A blush formed on his face, still having those boyish thoughts that he believed he was better than that.

You walked over and bent down, face getting closer to his.

Ah. You were going to forgive him and all would be right in the world once your lips met his. You wanted to laugh as you saw his eyes flutter shut, lips slightly puckering.

Charles was wondering what was taking you so long when your finger touched his lips. His eyes shot open and he definitely did not whimper. You looked down at your fur-baby and gently picked him up, bringing Leo to your chest.

“Twitter. Figure it out Leclerc.”

Now a bit sullen, he watched you walk away.

“Je t’aime!”

He was responded to with a middle finger and the bedroom door slamming. A chuckle made its way from his chest as he brought his phone out. If there was one thing that you two did well, it was dramatics.

Twitter was immediately opened once he got his phone out. He scrolled through all the tags before giving up and opening your profile. He winced at the sight of the white background, cursing his phone for updating and not keeping the dark profile.

However, he couldn’t contain his laugh as he saw your new updated tweet. He leaned his head back, still giggling to himself.

Charles knew that you two wanted kids at some point. But between his Formula 1 career and your business on the uprise, children really wouldn’t work well now. But deep down, he liked the idea of having a few grid kids.

He took a minute to stop giggling before he continued his search. His eyes widened as he stopped on one of the family trees that some fan made.

There was Leo, adopted by you and him.

Then Ollie, who fans say that Charles conceived himself somehow.

Oscar was newer, but still had the adopted dotted line.

And then . . .

Ooohhhhhhh, so that’s who he was missing.

You took that moment to come out of the bedroom, hair now dry and fluffy from your Dyson. Leo was still in your arms, looking more awake than he had when he was with Charles. You sat down next to him, Charles taking the opportunity to put an arm around you, bringing you in closer.

“You smell good amour.”

You turned and smiled, leaning in to finally give him a kiss after a long day.

“Thank you. It’s the lotion that you bought me.”

He let out a low hum and just kept you in his arms. Leo was squirming a bit before he finally flopped over and settled in between your two bodies.

“I figured out who our other son is.”

Your head now rested in the crook of his neck. “Did you now.”

“Yes. I am a stepfather to Liam?”

Your shoulders shook with giggles. “Not the stepfather, but the father who stepped up.”

“You spend way too much on Twitter.”

You looked up at him, and Charles turned to look down at you. You leaned in closer to rub your noses together, giving him eskimo kisses. The Ferrari driver just closed his eyes and basked in the moment between you.

There weren’t many times that he got something like this. So quiet and peaceful. His world was filled with so much noise. But here, he could melt into the quiet.

“We should have dinner here with the boys after the Grand Prix on Sunday.”

“That sounds nice. I can make the food.”

You sat up slightly, elbow bent on the back of the couch and head resting on your hand.

“You want to show off your cooking skills to your sons to prove that you can cook.”

Charles huffed. “I am the provider chéri.”

You cocked your head at the Monegasque. “Whose name is on the lease mon bebe?”

A huff was the answer, which made you cuddle Charles closer still being aware of the little baby between you. A small nip to your fingertip made you pick Leo up, now holding him close to your face.

“Were you getting a bit jealous of papa ma petit amour?” you asked the blonde dachshund in a baby voice. If Charles wasn’t already fully in love with you, his love would have been solidified in this moment.

While watching, he suddenly remembered something. “Oscar wanted to meet Leo in McLaren hospitality this weekend.”

You turned with a raised eyebrow. “Why not Ferrari?”

“Eh.”

It was as if you had a lightbulb moment. “Ohhhhhhh, right. That makes sense. I can stop by and let you know when I get there.”

What you hadn’t expected was to pick up Liam and Ollie on your way to the now green outside of the McLaren hospitality. Leo was still curled up in your arms, eyes blinking every so often. You knew that if it wasn’t so busy, the little puppy would be sound asleep.

“He’s so cute,” Oscar said, walking forward and hands outstretched. You gently gave him over to the “older brother” of the three.

Ollie laughed. “I know right. He’s so cuddly.”

Liam joined in, “I don’t think I put him down the entire time I got to meet him.”

Oscar stared at you three for a moment. “Yeah, you aren’t getting him back.”

You shook your head. “Speak to your father first, Oscar.”

Chuckles erupted from all around, making you laugh as well. You took your phone out and took a quick picture of Oscar holding Leo to post later.

“Is dad on his way?” Ollie asked after sipping on his water bottle.

You rolled your eyes. “Should be. Ah, there he is.”

Charles stepped foot into the room and immediately found you surrounded by his “kids.” His heart may have melted seeing Leo flopped in Oscar’s arms. He gave you a kiss on your cheeks before he greeted the three.

“This is hilarious,” he said, making everyone laugh yet again.

You rested a hand on your forehead. “We’re just missing Liam’s dad, and then we’ll be one big happy family.”

The Kiwi crossed his arms, but a giant smile was on his face. “So much for having a present father in my life. I’m jealous.”

Charles gripped your waist and puffed his chest. “I’m not the stepfather, but the father that stepped up.”

“Charles, no you aren’t. Can’t even handle three kids.”

You and Charles turned around to see Max now stepping through the door. The Monegasque raised his eyebrow.

“And you can?”

You raised a hand. “That’s my que to leave. I will not be in the middle of a Lestappen-father showdown. Boys, you can follow me.”

“Yes mum.”

“Lead the way.”

“Can I still keep Leo?”

Charles and Max gawked as the three older boys followed you like ducks in a row. After he got over the shock, the Ferrari driver was left with a love-sick smile on his face.

“Yeah. I’m marrying her.”

“Gross.”

“Max. Shut up.”

y/n_l/n has posted

liked by y/nismother, charles_leclerc, liamlawson, and 1,304,295 others y/n_l/n look at my sons . . . pride is not the word I'm looking for

see all comments

y/nismother the mother is mothering

charliexy/n honestly, they all take after him so much. I need to go to twitter

olliebearman then what is the word you're looking for mom 🤨

liamlawson30 I knew she wasn't proud of us

oscarpiastri this is why dad is better

y/n_l/n I'm taking away all of your sims and ps5's

olliebearman I take it back, mom is the best

oscarpiastri81 this is the best thing to happen this weekend

charles_leclerc my family 🫶

maxverstappen1 you stole my son from me.

liamlawson30 they had free ice cream 🤷

y/n_l/n 😊

maxverstappen1 I'm taking pole then

charles_leclerc ☹️

lestappenlove I love the entire family your honor

leclerc16charles does Leo need another sibling? cause I can bark

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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shrenvents · 7 months ago

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Professor Howlett

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, no protection, fingering, vaginal, doggy, pet names, squirting, age gap (legal!)

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Your history professor always seemed uninterested in you, that was until you missed his class.

Word count: 2.7k

…

Throughout high school I’ve always kind of stood out. To be honest, I only have myself to blame. Bright colours and statement pieces are just so much more appealing, than wearing something ‘plain.’ Unfortunately, I did more than just “stand out” that day, just three weeks away from senior graduation. That fateful day, I was so close to the finish line, before my stupid ex-boyfriend discovered my secret, and outed it to the entire student body.

That I’m a mutant…

That was what led me across the coast, for most of the past year, running from god knows what. I heard the stories of mutants being hunted and gone missing, and I didn’t intend to stick around long enough, that I wouldn’t at least make it to my 20th birthday.

However, my days of swindling folks of cash and food came to a halt, when I spotted a man with red-tinted glasses watching me. His invested gaze observed my every movement, so I grabbed all my shit, and the last bit of petty change I managed to get, and sprinted into a crowd.

Just as I thought I was in the clear, my face collided with a colossal, firm chest. I pressed the heels of my palms into it, and felt the cotton of his white shirt, and the rough, yet smooth texture of his worn-in, leather jacket.

Logan Howlett, or should I say, Mr. Howlett, my history Professor... After he and Scott captured me, they dragged me by the ankles to their school for the “gifted.” I cringed when they said where we were headed, but once I arrived and saw all the kids, like me, going about their lives, free, I knew everything would be more than okay.

And one thing I knew for sure, is that I wouldn’t mind attending Mr. Howlett’s class. Did I know shit about history, yes. But I’ve always had a thing for the older guy, and from what I’ve heard, he’s more than enough in that department.

...

This morning, racing out of my room, I swore profusely at my tardiness... Just my luck. The one day that week I get to see and listen to Logan talk for an hour straight, my alarm malfunctions.

Multitasking between attempting to put on my hot-pink heels, wrapping my sparkly bag over my shoulder, and shutting my door, I missed the approaching figure behind me.

“It’s past 11 am, where do you think you’re headed?” I swivel on my toes, spinning to face Storm. “Class?”

“The only class you have left today kid, is at 2. You’ve managed to miss the rest already,” she scolds flatly.

“Noooo,” I fake astonishment and defeat, as I slowly back away from Storm's scrutinizing stare. She calls my name after I’ve taken at least two large steps backward. “Logan wants to see you,” she states, exasperated.

“Oh?” I straighten out, stopping my next step short. “Ok!” I exclaim, a little too perky. She huffs a faint smirk and walks off, and I take flight, zooming to Logan’s class, where he’s most likely dozed off.

Lo and behold, after knocking once and receiving no response, I open the door to see him snoring. With his legs fully extended, and feet resting on his desk, I bask in his lengthy physic. I giggle and then go towards him.

Mr. Howlett?” I say, clearing my throat loudly, he grunts in his sleep and I smile. “Mr. Howlett?” I say even sweeter. A second later, I swear he mumbles my name and my heart stutters, but he’s still sleeping. I move in closer to his ear. “Logan,” I announce rigidly, and my change in tone makes him flinch, legs falling off the table, eyes popping open.

He rasps my name, voice echoing through the classroom. I refused to move away from my position, wanting to seem unaffected by him, but I was anything but. With his lazy eyes roaming over my skin, my heart races wildly. He clears his throat, and rolls his eyes away after taking in my attire, as he usually does —gives me a once-over, and rolls his eyes back to his focus on his lecture.

“You missed class, that isn’t like you,” he notes, almost to himself.

“Yes and I’m sorry-“

“I hope it wasn’t because you were too busy picking that outfit.” Logan scoffs and my eyes widen. He’s always made snarky comments, and this wasn’t anything new, but every time he does, I can’t help the boiling feeling in my lungs, that makes me rise to defend myself. “No, maybe I just felt like sleeping in?” I declare. A short-lived chuckle escapes him. “And you’re just gonna admit to that?” He smirks as he faces me. “I don’t like kids skipping my class.”

“First off, I’m an adult, second, you don’t care when kids skip your class,” I retort, with a growing smile, beaming across my face. Though, his complimentary smile, drops as mine comes to full form. He’s never seemed fond of my smile, or maybe it’s just me.

“You don’t skip my class.” He states once again, and my head quirks in confusion. “Um, I’m sorry?” I compromise, “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” He remarks dangerously. My brows furrow.

“Okay, I don’t get why it matters so much to you Mr. Howlett.” I place my hands on my hips, gazing down at him in his chair like I'm reprimanding a child. Which he is not akin to.

He lifts from his chair, standing up. I gasp as he towers over me. “Watch your tone, or I’ll fail ya,” he counters, fighting a smirk, staying stoic. “What?” I yelp and his smirk breaks through. My jaw goes slack. “Mr. Howlett, that’s not funny!”

“What’s not funny, is you pretending like calling me 'Mr. Howlett,' doesn’t turn you on.”

I freeze in disbelief. Was this one of my daydreams? Am I really awake right now?

“You heard me, you damn highlighter,” he asserts. “Call me Logan for fucks sake, if you’re a damn adult.” His scratchy voice loses its humour, and I stay frozen to the spot. “Get outta here, would ya,” Logan orders as he leisurely retakes his seat, getting comfortable for his next nap.

Unable to drag myself away, my eyes refocus on the subject of my desires. “Why do I have such a thing for assholes.”

Before Logan can respond angrily, I sit on his lap, dropping my purse to the floor, and straddling his hips. I cup his perplexed face and crash our mouths together, moulding them into one. He grunts in surprise as if he didn’t expect me to retaliate, as if he didn’t expect that I would want him this way.

He half-heartedly pulls away between kisses, whispering my name in small protests, but he gets muffled by my lips and grinds on his lap. Quickly, his objections turn into fierce groans. He takes my hips into his hands, tightly gripping into my flesh as he pushes me back, onto his desk. I whimper as his crotch stays glued to my core, even as we move. One hand then moves from my hip to my neck, holding it, then slowly sliding to my jaw, grasping it in a hungry, pressing kiss. His tongue laps my mouth, completely dominating me, and I struggle to breathe.

Just as I’m about to pull away to comment on how desperate he seems, his other hand flips me over with ease. My stomach is now on top of his desk, his crotch, like iron against my ass, and his hands trace down from my shoulder blades, to my bum. With my head hung over the desk, I pant, practically drooling.

“You’re asking for detention pinky,” he mutters, and I respond by pushing back into his hard cock. “I'm a sucker for extra attention teach,” I mention, as sensually as I could muster. He chuckles lowly, and I shudder. The pressure of his dick doesn’t change, and his hands continue their unhurried venture of me. “You like attention sweets?” Logan questions softly. His tone makes me shiver and whimper, yet again. “I like yours.”

“Just mine?” He questions darkly, telling me he doesn’t actually want any opposition. “Yes,” I whisper.

His voice drops an octave as he swears, rolling his hips into me once. I moan loudly. “Shhhh princess, you tryna alert the entire building?” He asks with amusement evident. I shake my head, no, and he laughs by my ear as he dips down. “Good, because I don’t like sharing your attention,” he says passively. “And I’d like to be the only ‘asshole,’ that gets to see what’s under these ridiculous clothes.”

“Hey!” I object meekly. I feel him smile as he leans away from my ear, and I turn my head over my shoulder to watch him peer down at where our bodies meet. “You probably want me to fuck you on this desk.” He speaks as though I’m not there to hear him. “Ya probably want to be taken here so that every time you’re sitting in my class, you can imagine me deep inside you.” He trails off as his hand pushes up my shirt, touching my lower back.

“But we can’t do that,” he sighs hoarsely.

“Why?” My reply is so quick that I grimace.

“Because, if we did, I’d be hard every time I’m in this fucking room, and that ain’t the smartest idea.” I moan at his crudeness and gasp when he pecks my naked spine, just below my bra clip. “Even your lingerie is pink huh?” He laughs smoothly. “Imagined it would be.” My legs rub together instinctively at his words.

“You imagined it?”

He pauses. “Hell yeah I did, though I tried to fight it,” he muses in between a groan. “It didn’t take me long to figure you wanted this too, princess,” he murmurs pleasantly.

After a long beat of silence and a little grinding, I speak up. “So now what? If you’re not going to make love to me here.”

He slowly pushes the hair over my face, behind my ear, tilting my head to face him just a bit. He then leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

“I’ll come to you,” is all Logan says as he reluctantly wrenches himself from me, after giving my ass cheek a mild slap. I yelp and nearly pout at the loss of touch. We hold eye contact as he backs away. “Get going, otherwise you’ll be late,” he comments airily. I nod and scurry out the room, with a grin plastered on my face.

...

After a long, vigorous rest of the day. I collapse into my plushy bed with a sigh.

“Took you long enough,” a dark voice rings, with a hint of familiar sass. I jolt up to see Logan leaning on my wardrobe. His tight shirt is further strained when his arms cross. “Been waiting to ‘make love' to ya all day,” he claims, with a mocking tone, repeating my "childish" words from earlier. My best guess is that he assumes I’m a virgin, from that sentence alone.

So, in an attempt to remedy my reputation, sitting up on my bed, with my arms bracing my figure, I slowly spread my bent legs. I bite my bottom lip, and his eyes shift down and blacken. “Get on with it then, Logan.” I roll my tongue as his name teasingly leaves my mouth. His head twitches in an almost feral manner, and I gulp.

“You’re asking for it,” is all he mumbles before pouncing on me. Our limbs tangle and I moan as his leg presses into my clothed clit. “Please,” I just about sob, to which he responds with an aggressive kiss and another crushing rub of his thigh. I moan louder, and he grunts, “You like that?” I push my hands into his hair, running my fingers through his thick locks. He lets out a coarse groan.

Loving how vocal he is, I decide to encourage him by groping his cock over his rugged jeans. “Fuck, baby,” he groans out when his mouth leaves mine. He then runs his tongue over my neck and collar, soon nibbling on my earlobe. His thigh continues to make work of me, and I match his pace. “You're so dirty,” he grins while his nose brushes my rosy cheek, and then he's kissing me. “I love it,” he professes with amusement, again, coaxing his tone.

Just as I begin undoing his belt, he flips me over on my stomach like before. Then, when I'm lying flat underneath him, he grabs my hips, to lift them towards his crotch as he kneels above. “I better see a pink thong,” he jokes as he strips me bare. He groans in satisfaction as I’m left in just my underwear for his viewing. “Unreal,” Logan practically purrs.

I wiggle my ass playfully, and he growls and smacks it harder than he did in his classroom. I squeal into my pillow, briskly going quiet when I hear his belt being ripped from the loops of his denim. Leaving my underwear in place, he runs his digits over the lace, making me whine, "Logan."

With his name on my tongue, it shortly turns into a cry as the lace covering my clit gets moved to the side, and two meaty fingers dive into me. "Shit, princess," he rasps. "How am I gonna fit?" He asks rhetorically, and I choke a sob, as he wastes no time building up an energetic pace, with his fingers.

He swiftly tears an orgasm from my trembling body, still holding my hips up with one hand. When his fingers leave, I hear his mouth clean them, and I swing my head to face him hastily, but he shoves my head back into my pillow. "So eager," he more or less snickers.

"Very," my smothered voice emits, barely audible.

I nearly shriek when his tip swipes my wet slit. Logan, without notice, suddenly pushes himself inside me, with an agonizing slowness, but I quietly persist. "Atta girl, that's it," he lazily groans out encouragements. My hands pathetically slide onto his thighs, unsure if I'm urging him for more, or begging for discretion.

At once, he shoves himself in all the way, and I let out an extensive sigh. His palm, which was just holding down my head, joins his other hand on my abandoned hip. He lets out various curses, along with my name, and begins to move, in and out. Soon enough, he's pounding into me at a savage rate, completely untamed. As well, it seems purposeful, how he simultaneously bends down to growl and moan in my ear, still thrusting.

He stirs another orgasm, still notably, not experiencing his own. "You look real pretty like this princess," he begins to ramble. "Gonna do this every fucking day." The rest of what he says gets lost in translation, as I grow overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Thoughtlessly, I try to crawl away while he still has my lower half hoisted up. Once Logan realizes what I'm up to, my pitiful effort has him laughing. "Where ya going?"

"Lo, it's too much-"

"Lo? Call me that again, it's cute," he hums.

"No more," I whimper, ignoring him.

"Just one more baby," Logan coos, while somehow increasing his pace, making me cum instantly, squirting a little. His moan rumbles in his chest, and he doesn't stop hammering into me. I grip my headboard, and one of his arms stretches alongside mine, to do the same.

When he cums, his grip snaps the wood, breaking a part of the headboard, making me shout in between sobs. He seems to not notice the damage, too busy finishing on my backside.

After a long minute, he slumps his large frame beside me. One of his arms stays drifting across my skin as his eyes intently coast over my features. "Maybe consider skipping my class more often," Logan expresses as his lips slightly tip upward. He presses his lips onto my shoulder. I smile, giggling, "Why?"

"Cause it doesn’t matter where I fuck you, there's nowhere I won't get hard looking at that pretty face," he smiles dreamily, "And you're impractical wardrobe.”

I giggle, "You truly have a way with words," I pause and smirk, "Mr. Howlett."

He rises onto his elbow with a devilish grin, "Now you're really asking for it princess."

Part two

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deadsetobsessions · 11 months ago

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Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Part 1

[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4]

To not turn into a giant raging asshole hell bent on murdering people and destroying the world after everyone he loved died, Danny had ran from Amity with his chosen vice.

A bottle. That’s right. Even after Jazz’s talks about alcoholism as a poor coping mechanism as a form of self harm, he still chose alcohol. Or maybe that’s why he picked it, because it reminded him of her, right before the booze took the sting of grief off of her memory. He was never really all that good at listening to Jazz.

And now she’s gone, so it’s moot point. Danny really hated Nasty Burger.

Danny made it all the way to Gotham, bottle constantly glued to his hand. It’s better than Vlad’s creep-o-self looming over him all of the time. He bummed out on the streets, fitting into crime alley like a native. Danny learned to pickpocket. Not much, just enough for a bottle when his ran out. He stayed human. At first he tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to be perceived as a meta in a city where Batman notoriously disliked metas. Then, as he sunk deeper, he admitted to himself in a shameful curl of a whisper that it was really because alcohol affected his human side much easier.

Ghosts need an ungodly amount of alcohol to even get slightly buzzed. Danny’s human side? Only one full bottle the shittiest tequila he could find could even hope to be more than buzzed. It sucked.

He’s spent two years being an alcoholic that didn’t actually get that drunk. Technically, underage drinking was a crime. But then again, so was being a vigilante ghost. So, whatever. He does what he can to dull the grief. Mostly, he slept on covered and hidden nooks on top of Crime Alley’s roofs. Gotham city had taken pity on him and cleared her smog clouds when he was awake at night. Stargazing helped, at least. It gave him a little hope. It gave him a little wish to change and better and live like he wants. But then the night ends and when the day comes, Jazz isn’t there. Sam isn’t there. Tucker isn’t there. His mom and dad are not there.

Danny always went back to the bottle, in the end. Not that it did much.

Which was why, when he saw three looming figures over a tiny child, Danny’s saving people thing flared with a vengeance and his surprised ectoplasm burned what little buzz he had achieved by downing most of the bottle away, leaving him stone cold sober and pissed.

Danny sighed, dumping the rest of the nasty tasting liquid out. There’s no point drinking that little.

He approached the trio, who were beating up an actual child. Ancients, he hated Crime Alley sometimes.

“Give me your shit, you little punk!” Asshole 1 decided to say like a typical mugger, raising his leg to kick the curled up kid below. Danny doesn’t let him land the kick, smashing the bottle on the asshole’s head before any of them clocked his presence. He pivots, pushing a bit of that extra strength he normally keeps on a tight leash into his hands, and punched the other two in a quick fashion, knocking them out.

With that taken care of, Danny turned back to the kid who was still curled up. Danny sighed again, the trembles in small shoulders plucking on his heartstrings.

“You okay, kid?”

The kid uncurls, and Danny stared. Holy shit, is he looking into a mirror? Blue eyes, black hair, and tanned skin. Holy shit, he’s even got similar jaws to Danny.

“Huh.”

The kid flinched.

“Y-y’er the drunk,” the kid flinched again, eyes darting to the broken bottle still clenched in Danny’s hand. “I- I ain’t got money, honest. Please-”

Danny blinked down at the kid, brain connecting the dots after so long without actual interaction. He’s panicking and staring at the bottle in Danny’s hand like it’ll kill him. Danny raised the bottle and the kid closed his mouth with a click, terror worming its way into the kid’s eyes.

“I wasn’t going to mug you myself, kid.”

“But- y’er the- the Alley drunk.”

Danny blinked. Did he get a reputation without knowing again? Goddammit.

“I guess. Am I famous or somethin’?”

“Nobody- nobody fucks wit’ ya.”

“I also don’t hurt kids.”

“…”

The kid stared at him dubiously and with a sinking feeling, Danny realized that maybe the kid already had some terrible experiences with a heavy drunken hand. He promptly chucks the bottle further into the alley.

“I drink, yes. But I’m also not the kind of scum that would lay hands on a kid, let alone anyone that didn’t provoke it first.”

“Oh.” The kid uncurled more, looking at Danny warily, more at ease now that the bottle has left the chat.

“Yeah. I’m Danny. Stone cold sober, right now.”

“…”

Danny waited.

“Peters.”

“Okay. Peters, do you wanna take their shit?” Danny pointed a thumb at the knocked out would-be-muggers behind him.

“Y… yeah, sure. What’s my cut?”

“All of it.”

Peters stared.

Danny shrugged and started looting.

"Y'er so fuckin' weird."

----

See, the thing is, Danny hadn't anticipated saving Peters- "'s actually Jason"- would result in having a duckling following him around. The kid, Jason, glared at everyone who even looked at them wrong. But that's not the problem, because Danny could take anyone who took issue with Jason's looks, it's more like there's a child following him around now and Danny doesn't want to be the reason Jason turns into an alcoholic. It's- well, it made him cut down on the drinking. He even got jobs- legitimate jobs that sucks out his his poor ectoplasmic soul.

Why? Because Jason's apparently homeless. While that's something Danny's okay with for himself, he can't ever condone that for an actual child. Jason's walking around in threadbare clothes and thin soled shoes in the middle of Fall, for Ancient's sake.

Danny grumbles as he piled a bunch of clothes into the shopping bag as he checked out. Gotham's Walmart is a different kind of hell, but Danny feels right at home.

Sure, the work might suck out his soul and he might hate being sober, but Jason's face every time he comes home to an actual place to live, warm clothes, and food was worth everything.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #DCxDP #dpxdc #jason todd #batman #crime alley #Danny: im gonna be an alcoholic #also Danny: a child needs help and I don’t drink anymore #Danny phantom’s saving people thing #drunk danny #alcoholic danny #but not for long #danny adopts jason todd #jason todd follows his big brother into being a vigilante #kind of #he becomes robin #but gets rescued by his long suffering brother every once and a while #alley drunk! Danny AU

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innerfare · 2 months ago

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You’re Jealous

Summary: You get jealous of someone else in his life.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Slight Angst // Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Luffy:

He never told you Boa Hancock was in love with him, and when you find out, you have to remove yourself from the situation before you have an emotional outburst and start something with the Pirate Empress. The problem is, you don’t even know which emotion will spill out of you. Finding out the world’s most beautiful woman, and a powerful Warlord, no less, is desperate to marry Luffy is a whirlwind, to say the least. Luffy can seem clueless at times, but his emotional intelligence is through the roof, and he picks up on what has you upset almost straight away. He knows to give you some space, and when he senses you’re ready, he approaches you with a handful of wildflowers he picked. He doesn’t really say much, just pulls you into a hug, presses a few kisses into your cheek and temple, and says in your ear, “you’re my girl.”

Zoro:

He didn’t mention Perona was also at Mihawk’s castle for those two years until a few months after the crew gets together. He tells a story that features her, and you realize there was a woman keeping him company. Your heart drops into your stomach. Zoro insists he didn’t mention her because he didn’t think she was relevant; the only thing Perona did those two years was annoy him. He’s actually the one who won’t let it go, not you (even though you are pretty jealous). Whereas you’d prefer not to talk about it, Zoro is wracked with guilt because he’d never considered the whole thing in a relationship context. Him fretting constantly over it actually heals your jealousy because you realize you’ve never seen him panic over the prospect of hurting anyone else’s feelings.

Sanji:

Even with a third eye, Pudding is stunning. And Sanji almost married her. It was before you two were together, but listening to the stories from Whole Cake, hearing how close he came to marrying another woman, knowing she really did fall in love with his kind heart and wonderful cooking, turns you into a little green monster. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous of a woman you’ve never met before, a woman Sanji chose not to marry, but you can’t help it. Sanji is completely shocked that you would feel jealous over his relationship (if it could even be called that) with Pudding, though after thinking about it some more, he does realize why you might be jealous that he had a fiancé. His solution is to bring you a bouquet of roses and walk you through the dark details of his life, telling you things he’s never outright told anyone, so you understand the special place you have in his life.

Ace:

He collects people without trying, and often times, without realizing, either. Ace thinks he’s just making friends, but you see the way the women he laughs and shares drinks with are drawn to him like plants to the sun. He promises them freedom and adventure (and he has a very nice laugh), and you can see how it excites them. You don’t really mind it, knowing Ace well enough to see the way he holds those women at arm’s length, even if he seems close with them (such is the magic of Fire First Ace). But Yamato makes you jealous. It’s not hearing the way they laughed together but hearing the way they fought that gets to you. You know how Ace lives to fight and even just roughhouse, you know how he’s a rough and tumble guy, and you worry you’re not tough enough. Should you be punching his arm when he makes a joke? Should you be trying to trip him out on deck? What should you be doing? When you finally come clean with Ace about what’s been bothering you, he actually laughs. “If I wanted to be with someone who gives me hell, I’d be sleeping in Marco’s cabin every night. Besides,” he says, scooping you up in his arms, “I like being able to manhandle you.”

Sabo:

Sabo is a flirt, and you knew that going into your relationship. It actually doesn’t bother you when he flashes that charming smile of his at someone else or swoops in to save a damsel in distress (a speciality of his) and even serves to entertain, especially on the rare occasions his flirtations are rebuked. What does bother you, though, is his tight relationship with Koala. You know it’s ridiculous to be envious, you know Koala would sooner saw off her arm than kiss the man she considers her irksome big brother, but they’ve known each other since they were little kids, and Koala has been through so much with Sabo that the pair have such a close bond. It’s not the angry kind of jealousy that bubbles up in you when Koala mentions something about Sabo’s past that she assumes you know but you don’t, just the sad kind that you try to keep to yourself. Surprisingly, Sabo notices, though you don’t realize until he hugs you from behind and mumbles in your ear that he’s glad you’re the only one who knows he has a skincare routine, his silly words diffusing your mood and acting as the exact affirmation you needed. If it’s not enough, though, he’ll happily prove his loyalty to you by challenging Koala to a karate match, though.

Law:

Dr. Law and Dr. Robin sure do get along well- so well, in fact, you can’t help but wonder if they are better suited to each other than you and him. Even if they didn’t have such good chemistry, it would be impossible not to feel a touch of jealousy toward the archeologist. She’s intelligent, beautiful, fiercely loyal, a member of the Straw Hats, and has an impressive bounty that she earned even before she became a pirate. Needless to say, you find yourself brooding when the Robin brings him a beer and sits down beside him to discuss the immune systems of fishmen, a topic both are rather interested in. Of course, you’re interested in that, too, thus the reason Law realizes something is wrong when you don’t participate in the conversation. He ends up excusing the two of you and taking you to bed, worrying you had too much to drink, the thought you may be jealous never once occurring to him. You end up not saying anything (many thing in your relationship with Law being unspoken) and just sleeping it off, the fact that he excused the two of you proof enough of his loyalty.

Kid:

He doesn’t ever talk about his first love, Victoria. In fact, you didn’t even know she existed until Killer got drunk one night and began speaking of his dearly departed. What he didn’t mention was that Kid, too, had been in love with her. It only comes up the next night when you mention it to Wire, who mentions it was the death of his first love, Victoria, that put Kid on the war path and united the first four members of the Kid Pirates. Realizing Wire messed up, Heat chimes in to say, “he’d do the same for you.” But you’re not convinced, mainly because Kid never told you any of this. It tears you apart, leaves you tossing and turning for nights on end, until you finally burst into Kid’s workshop one night ranting about how he doesn’t trust you and holds you at arm’s length. “Heat says you’d do the same for me, but-” Kid cuts you off and says, “I wouldn’t do the same, I’d do worse. Much, much worse.” And from the wicked gleam in his eye, you’re inclined to believe him.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece fluff #one piece angst #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #sabo x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #eustass kid x reader

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i-like-writing-stuff · 4 months ago

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the other five [ five hargreeves x reader ]

request: Hello! This is my first time desperately requesting a fic because the new season is SO bad 😭 Can you write a fic where the reader finds out about everything that happened between Five & Lila and then she gets taken away by one of the Fives at the deli and promising her that he’ll treat her better than OG Five (You can also add a part where OG Five finds out about this and lives to regret it)

a/n: AU where everything in that trash season was the same, except when five made the first jump in s1 he made it in his 32 yr old body bc i will not have y/n pull a zach justice (lmao)

even if lila did 😭😭

anyways basically everyone is the same age

i like to think of the five that comforts y/n as the five that explained everything to five in the last episode because that one literally felt like the five we were supposed to get, the five that was there all the first three seasons

sorry i cant stop trashing this season you guys 😭 i’m just so disappointed

summary: after breaking up with five, you make up with… well, five

part two

“Leave me alone, Five!” You yelled in despair, pushing the man before you away, “Actually, first take me back home, you psycho! I have nothing to say to you!”

“Y/N, please, just hear me out!” Five tried to reason with you, as if anything he would say could make your heart glue itself back.

You were standing in the subway station after Five had blinked himself and you away from the family- or what was left of it, watching him at loss of words. You didn’t recognize the man before your eyes, as much as you tried. You didn’t even have time to gather all your thoughts since there was yet another impending apocalypse on its way, so your mind was completely all over the place.

Five Hargreeves was not the same Five Hargreeves you fell in love with all those years ago. He was not the same man who had stolen your heart and made you feel like you were the most precious person in the world. He wasn’t your partner anymore, he wasn’t your lover. Your boyfriend wasn’t there. You looked at this person and there was a stranger, acting as if he was the same who had hugged you, held your hand, kissed you all those many times. You were questioning everything about him now.

“Take me back!” You yelled again, ignoring his same pleas, curling your hand in a fist, “I’m this fucking close to making you ash!”

As your pure anger got the best of you, you were ready to let your powers take over for a second. Obviously you weren’t actually going to hurt him, no matter how much you wanted him to feel your pain, at least physically.

You met him six years ago, during the first time you tried to stop the apocalypse. You were also one of the extraordinary kids, but luckily enough, Reginald Hargreeves didn’t manage to adopt you- more so, purchase you. You only met Five not long after he managed to time travel back to his family in 2019 after spending all those decades by himself. Before you knew it, you were dragged into the Hargreeves family and your relationship soon after developed.

Your six year relationship that was so merry a few hours ago. Now it was crumbled, trashed.

What hurt was that it was six years only to you. Five managed to block himself seven years away from you, only in the presence of Lila.

“This is so fucking stupid,” You scoffed, fighting back the tears in your eyes, “It’s fucking over! Do you want me to spell it out for you?!”

“I want you to listen!” Five didn’t give up on arguing, “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“You didn’t want to see me again!” You screamed, wailing your hands in the air, “Fucking save it- It’s over! I don’t want to ever see you again if we survive this apocalypse! You ruined our relationship, you ruined your brother’s marriage, family! For fucking Lila!”

You hated him absolutely. The mere thought of his infidelity, of the nerve to act as if he still loved you, it was all despicable.

You grew to love all of your boyfriend’s siblings, and also your nieces and nephews, even if you and Five were not yet married. You planned to be a part of the family officially, but still wanted to focus on your careers, you wanted to adjust yourself to your old life, back to your origins.

“Y/N, please!” He tried to step, towards you, but you started stepping away.

Thoughtlessly, because of all your anger, you just walked towards the first train approaching you, fully intending to be away from him at whatever cost.

“If you don’t want to take me back, I’ll fucking find my own way!” You hopped onto the train, watching as he tried to catch up with you.

But he was too late.

In hindsight, maybe it was not the smartest idea, but you were just so devastated nothing made sense to you anymore. You spent the past six years thinking that you are set for the rest of your life, now that the world wasn’t ending anymore. You reconnected with your family, you built a career for yourself and were living happily with Five, you had literally just finished settling yourself in the new house you bought together. You couldn’t understand how he could do this to you.

You couldn’t understand how Lila could betray your friendship either, especially Diego and their kids.

You tried to make it make sense, be reasonable- it was only a few hours to you, but they were lost in this subway system for seven years.

But then again, Five was lost in the future 45 years by himself and he didn’t give up on trying to return to his family once.

Now he did, he gave up on trying to return to you.

That’s definitely another aspect that stung.

“Fucking piece of shit,” You mumbled, as the train approached its first station, “How do I fucking get out of here?”

You stumbled out of the sub, taking in your surroundings. It was yet another crumbled down station, but if you were to be at least a tiny bit fair, it was maybe a bit better kept. You looked around curiously, trying to figure out where to go from now on. Your fire-based superpowers were totally useless in this situation, so you hated to admit that you were in a bit of a pickle.

You rolled your eyes, as Five rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks, watching you with widened eyes.

“You again?” You sighed angrily, “Take me back or get out of my sight, Five.”

Five raised his brows, putting his hands in his pockets curiously. He didn’t say a word yet, as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He slowly stepped towards you, not taking his eyes off you once. For a split second, you stopped as well, sending that something was up.

You took in his features, trying to make sense of what was going on, realizing that he didn’t have a coat on him. He was wearing the exact three piece suit an black tie, he was wearing the same silver watch on his left hand, but he didn’t have his coat on.

“Y/N,” He smiled, stopping in front of you, “I never thought I’d see you again, more so here.”

“What the fuck is going on?” You calmly asked, over-analyzing the man before you.

His smile didn’t drop. It was a genuine one, a smile you hadn’t seen in a while. Things between you and Five were okay a few hours ago, but he hadn’t watched you with this look since you first met. His eyes were sincere, taking in every single feature of yours, traveling all over your body.

“I take it your Five danced the devil’s tango with Lila,” He sighed deeply, raising a hand to gently brush away your tears.

When did you even start crying?

Your mind was scrambled all over the place, but at that exact moment you couldn’t say another word. You just melted into his touch, feeling warmth. It really hadn’t been that long since Five touched you, but this touch felt different. His hand rested on your cheek, as his thumb caressed you lightly. His touch was so intoxicatingly sweet, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m so sorry I’m a literal shitface in some other timelines,” He lightly shook his head, “I’m so sorry.”

“What is going on?” You asked once again, calmer this time.

For whatever reason, you relaxed in an instant. You couldn’t tell if it was because of his gentle touch or simply his presence. Ironic, since just ten minutes ago you were ready to set him on fire.

“Come with me, my love,” Five said, grabbing your hand in his, “I’ll explain everything.”

You didn’t fight his touch, locking your fingers with his. None of you said a word, as you watched you hands fit so perfectly in one another. How could your relationship be over when you were so good together?

You followed Five through the subway station, rounding the same corner he appeared from. You watched as he turned his head to give you a reassuring smile, lightly squeezing your hand in comfort.

After a few more steps and going down a couple of stairs, you widened your eyes seeing a literal deli tucked away in this godforsaken out of order subway system. The headlights above the front entrance were lit up, writing Max’s Delicatessen. You saw inside a huddle of people as you entered, gathering everyone’s attention.

When they all turned to look at you, you literally couldn’t tell whether you or the huddle of people was more shocked.

They were all Fives.

There was music playing inside, as the deli was full of different versions of your boyfriend, whether they were customers sitting at the tables, drinking coffee or having a meal, reading the newspaper or having a chat. There were also other Fives working around, waiting tables or cooking in the back.

Nonetheless, they all stopped to look at you.

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N is here, carry on, you guys,” The Five that was holding your hand waved the others off with his free hand, “She needs a moment, stop being creeps.”

“I can’t tell if this is a dream come true or my worst nightmare,” You said, looking around the deli, as Five guided you towards an empty booth.

You sat down as the other picked up again whatever they were doing, still watching you with the corner of their eyes. Five took a seat in front of you, still holding onto your hand on top of the table, using his other hand to rub small circles on your skin.

“I am not the Five that dragged you here, in case you didn’t tell yet,” Five managed to say, “But I’m pretty sure that you did, since I know you’re smarter than he gives you credit for.”

“He did mention that this subway system is the knot to multiple timelines,” You sighed, as Waiter Five set down two cups of steaming coffee on the table.

You watched him curiously, as he looked yet again exactly like Five, wearing just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, with a black tie, pantsuit pants and a server apron around the waist. He smiled at you warmly, setting down two small packs of sugar and a creamer.

“I’m sorry, my love, we don’t have any Irish Capuccinos around here, since you’re the first Y/N to set foot in here,” He apologetically smiled, “I can only get you a shot of whiskey, if you’d like.”

Of course they all knew your favorite coffee.

“Make it a bottle,” You said, cracking a smile for the first time, causing him to chuckle, before walking away to attend to your order.

“I can’t begin to explain how much I missed your smile, darling,” The Five before you said, as you turned back to him, “The Handler got to the Y/N in my timeline,” He added, as sadness took over his eyes, “I missed you so much.”

“I can’t understand how you’re the same Five that fell in love with Lila,” You said, before quickly adding, “I mean- technically, you’re not, but still.”

“Everyone around here is a different version of me, from a different timeline,” He said, “I’m one of the many that didn’t go down that road.”

“Thank you, I guess,” You laughed, making him smile again.

What a sweet smile it was.

“When I lost you, I was a total wreck,” He confessed, as you couldn’t help but place your other hand on top of his, “I love you so much, Y/N, I could never hurt you like that no matter what. This is all such a fucked up turn of events, but when I saw you coming out of that train, my mind froze.”

“I love you too, Five,” You said, “But I need to wrap my head around what is going on- Everything is insane, I mean I’m right now in the middle of yet another apocalypse, I just found out that you love Lila and there’s just so fucking many of you.”

“I know, my love, I know,” Five nodded, “I wouldn’t dare to ask you accept everything so fast, I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Can you just… hold me?” You asked, watching as he didn’t waste another second and got up to slide ne t yo you in the booth.

Wrapping one arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest, he used his other one to caress your hair. You nuzzled your face into his shirt, taking in his scent, as you felt a wave of certitude wash over you. Five held you tightly into his arms, embracing you after years of your absence. He was grateful to have you in his arms once again.

And he was not about to let go anytime soon.

“I’ll always hold you, my love,” Five muttered, peppering small kisses in your hair.

The Five from your timeline watched from behind the window as you took comfort in his arms, but not exactly his arms.

This was only the beginning of his lifelong regret.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagines #number five x reader #the umbrella academy season 4 #the umbrella academy imagines #tua x reader #tua season 4 #tua netflix

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always-a-slut-4-ghouls · 1 year ago

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I just did something embarrassing (luckily not in front of anyone I know irl) and I have to share it because I’m both laughing and cringing.

So, I was looking through some pronoun pins that were being sold and trying to find a she/they one (I didn’t end up buying it though because as much as I love pins, I couldn’t think of something that I hadn’t already covered in the things) and kept seeing she/her and he/him and I was like “why would single gender people be queer” and then I remembered trans people with one gender and was like “how tf did I forget that some women weren’t called women at birth and so they’re trans?” I literally just lumped all men and women (including trans men and women) into a single whole and forgot why they would be considered trans. 🤦‍♀️

I was so focused on looking for my she/they pin that I forgot there were people with one “normal” gender who weren’t considered “normally gendered”. It was literally the “I got so caught up in (blank, in this case, looking for non-binary types of pins) that if forgot (blank, in this case, putting people with one gender in different boxes) existed”

It wasn’t exactly forgetting that “forgot transphobia exists” but somehow just… briefly forgetting that some people with one binary gender were considered different and thus trans. Exact opposite of my otherwise constant internal monologue where I keep questioning if I can be considered “trans” when I’m demigender (I’m more comfortable being called genderqueer because I feel like I’m not stealing other people’s thunder. It’s just dumb insecurities, I know).

I very briefly lived in a world in which everyone with she/her or he/him was just instantly called what they wanted. How tf does someone forget binary transphobia and gender stereotypes getting in the way of being properly addressed?

I very briefly lived in a world where everyone with binary pronouns was instantly understood and addressed by their pronouns. I’m so fucking stupid 🤦‍♀️

🌈Anyway, happy pride from the dumbest bitch in the room rn 🏳️‍🌈

#emma posts #this isn’t dismissing she/her and he/him trans people. I know you exist and I respect you so much #out there living braver than any U.S. marine #I don’t know how I could forget this today especially because about a half hour before that #I read a post made by my cousin about their trans kid and how she was really treated by the medical system #i didn’t even know that their kid was trans until just now and was surprised at another queer person in the family #i really shouldn’t be because my family. especially that side. is fucking HUGE #i just don’t have frequent contact with several of them considering that they don’t live close enough for frequent interactions #in person at least #I had just learned my little cousin niece (what do you call a cousins kid) was a trans girl and i just forgot that she has to fight to be #considered she/her #my dumbfuck ass was so focused on nonbinary people that she forgot transphobia against binary trans people #I got four hours of sleep and feel dumb a.f.#how does a person forget that is a thing???#the medical journey post was made to show how doctors don’t immediately just give surgery to kids #and why hormone therapy is important for trans kids going through puberty #specifically hormone blockers #she may have been nervous about it at first but that’s a lot more than some parents ever do and I respect that a lot #and I hope my cousin niece has a better time than those before her as times change #because the state they live in is getting a lot worse government wise #and at least they are close to the border with mine #also her nails were impressive af #not even I’ve ever had them that long like woah #call me she/forgor because I’m like that every day of my life

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marvelwitchergilmore · 3 months ago

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Unexpected Surprises

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Finding out your pregnant is one thing, having Logan know before you is another.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff, descriptions of giving birth, Logan's senses are at their full power. He's also read the books. One swear word here and there. Not Proof Read.

If someone had told you, even yesterday, that you would be sitting inside your bathroom with Logan sitting against your sink counter, waiting for a pregnancy test to show you a result he already knew…

You wouldn’t have believed them.

They could have been cursed to tell the truth their entire lives and you still wouldn’t have believed them.

Because it was baffling to you.

And it had all started because Logan - of all people - knew you were pregnant.

It had all started several weeks ago when you had met the team under the school inside Jean Grey’s lab. The others had been talking when you had arrived and slid in to stand beside Logan.

After a moment, he sniffed.

“What is it?”

“Have you changed your shower gel?”

You looked at him with a bewildered look. “No, why?”

“You smell different.”

“I don’t know how comfortable I am knowing you can smell me.” You said, looking up at him. You knew it was a part of his mutation; heightened senses, but it still caught you off guard every now and then.

Logan shrugged. “I can always smell you.”

From there, you both turned to find out why you’d been called down to the lab.

Over the next couple of weeks, Logan noticed a change in you.

You started napping.

For the average person, taking a nap in the middle of the day wasn’t unheard of. But for you, someone who practically lived off four to five hours a night of sleep, constantly running around the place doing things, unable to sit still long enough to even think about taking a nap….

It was unheard of.

First it had been in the living room on the sofa whilst the kids were either out or in their rooms before they’d get called for dinner. Then in the library, the hallway on the window seat bench, the kitchen. And Logan hadn’t been the only one to find you napping.

But he was the only one to move you from where you were and into your bedroom.

And each day your scent was getting stronger.

For the life of him he couldn’t put his finger on it. He had asked Jean about it but since you hadn’t come to her, or hadn’t seemed unlike your normal self, she didn’t see anything to worry about.

Maybe your body was just finally making you listen and telling you to rest.

But as of a week ago, you had been throwing up every meal you had. But you didn’t feel sick. Save for the twenty minutes before and after throwing up. Most of the time you felt hungry and nauseous at the same time.

Except, you’d kept the fact you kept puking to yourself. Until a morning meeting before classes were about to start.

“Excuse me, just a second-”

You just about managed to get out of the door and down the hallway before throwing up the toilet lid and emptying your breakfast back into the water.

Everyone looked around concerned and Jean was about to follow you when Logan caught her by the door. “Let me.”

Logan seemed to know something the others didn’t.

“Is she okay?”

Logan nodded, looking around before finding Charles. “She’s fine,” he replied, turning back to Jean.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

Closing the door behind him, Logan found you in the staff bathroom, the door unlocked.

Knocking on, he heard you take a breath before flushing the toilet and putting the lid back down. He slowly entered before closing the door behind him and looking at you as you sat on the lid of the toilet seat.

“Here,” Logan grabbed a fresh flannel and ran it under the tap before handing it to you and crouching on the floor so he could see you.

“Thanks.” You took the flannel from him and placed it over your face, wiping it down before folding it over and running it down the back of your neck. “Two weeks. Two weeks and I can’t keep a meal down, but I feel normal.”

“There might be an explanation for that.”

Then you felt yourself starting to cry.

You never cried.

At least, Logan had never seen you cry.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. One minute I’m flushed and wanting to throw up my internal organs, the next I was to sleep for a decade and eat nothing but sugar. Maybe I’m coming onto my period.”

“You’re not.”

You threw the flannel into the sink before looking at Logan. “What?”

“You’re not coming onto your period. You’re pregnant, Y/n.”

“Excuse me?”

Logan sighed. “I can…smell it. Your hormonal changes. And it would explain the tiredness, and the puking your guts up every five seconds. And the emotions.”

You just stared at Logan. “What?”

“If you don’t believe me, take a test. Maybe I’m wrong-”

“You are.” You told him. “I can’t be pregnant. When would I have had-”

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as if to say, “You really don’t remember?”

You looked up, away from him and towards the door, doing the maths in your head.

“I can’t….no. No, I can’t be pregnant.”

“Look,” Logan began. “At least take a test. Just to be sure. I could be wrong…but I don’t think I am.”

The next day Logan drove you into the town and towards the local pharmacy.

Sitting out in the car, you unbuckled your seat belt and looked at the door before turning to Logan. “Will you come in with me?”

And he did. Without question.

Spending a few minutes searching for the tests, Logan found them and handed one over to you. “Can tell as early as…” He read the box. “Five weeks.”

You nodded before looking back at the shelf, grabbing a different box of a different brand, just to be safe. At the counter, the cashier rang up both boxes for you. Neither you or Logan missed the light smile on her face as she looked between the two of you. However, the cashier missed the slightly awkward shift from Logan as he realised what she was doing and he somehow moved both closer to you and away from you at the same time.

“That’ll be seven, ninety five.”

You handed over a ten dollar bill and collected your change. Both yourself and Logan thanked her before shuffling away from the counter, Logan looking behind him as he opened up the door for you, finding the cashier smiling and waving you out.

By the time you both got home, you found a note on the desk in the hallway from Xavier. They had taken the kids out on a school trip to the museum. They should be back by dinner.

So that left you and Logan alone to stand inside your bathroom, avoiding looking at the two tests on the counter.

“I still think it’s weird you can smell the change.” You said out loud, sat on the toilet seat, your hands interlocked with each other. “I mean…what does it even smell like?”

You unlocked your hands and pressed them between your knees, turning to look up at him as he leaned against your sink counter.

Logan seemed a little out of it, his head somewhere else for a moment as his eyes remained fixed on the skirting board whilst he brushed a hand repeatedly across his face.

“Huh?” He snapped out of it, brushing his face one last time before moving his hands so they were against the cold counter before crossing his feet and crossing his arms once more. “Oh, uh, I don’t know, It’s just different.”

“Like a bad different?” You asked.

“Just…stronger, I guess. Why do you even want to know? I thought you found it weird?”

You nodded. “I do. But you can’t tell me you’ve got questions for things you find weird.”

Logan looked at you. “What? Like your ability to watch a serial killer documentary before you go to bed, yet you won’t watch horror movies?”

“I knew you found that weird!”

Logan nodded. “That’s because it is. Scott isn’t allowed near you in the month of October because you said he watches too many scary movies.”

“I can see it in his aura. Being near Scott in the month of October is like putting you next to a magnet and hoping you don’t get stuck to it. Horror movies scare me any time of year, it’s just stronger in October. And Scott watches too many.”

“Who knew the woman who used to work for the FBI, doesn’t like horror movies?”

“Technically, I worked in the labs. Not the field.”

“Still. FBI that’s afraid of a couple jumpscares on a set full of actors. Kind of ironic if you ask me.”

“Oh, please.” You replied, turned back to looking at the door. “You’re just as scared of them. Don’t think I didn’t spot the claw shaped holes in the pillow from last Halloween.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Logan squirm.

“How long is left on this thing anyway?”

You looked at your phone. “Twenty seconds.”

You both watched as the timer went off before looking at each other. “Ready?”

It took you a second, but you finally nodded and Logan stood back up straight. As did you before pulling the face down tests from the counter.

Logan stood behind you, his hand absentmindedly coming to your hip as he looked over your shoulder. You closed your eyes before turning them round and took another second before finally opening them.

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

Two lines.

Both tests.

Two, vibrant, clear from space, lines.

And despite him being the first to know, everything suddenly felt a lot more real for Logan.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out before you felt yourself starting to cry again. “Oh my god.”

You looked at Logan through the mirror before turning around and his arms wrapped themselves around you as you stood on your tiptoes to bury your face into his neck.

“What do you need? Tell me what you need.”

You set yourself back on your feet, your eyes locked on Logan’s chest. “Sleep? I think.”

Logan smiled a little and brushed the hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. “Okay.”

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you…” The question disappeared. “Stay with me.”

With his eyes fixed on yours, Logan nodded.

Laying down beside you, his arms wrapped around you whilst your legs tangled with his. And for a moment, he was transported back almost nine weeks ago when you and him had finally crossed the one line you both swore you’d never cross with each other, in a motel room, just off the highway leading back into New York.

Neither of you woke up until a few hours later where you found yourself lay on your side, Logan’s arm around your middle with his hand gently pressed to your belly, whilst he remained behind you, a little more on his front, his face half buried in his pillow.

Having felt you move, Logan stirred awake for a moment to fully turn onto his side. But you just kept looking at him.

Just like you had done almost ten weeks ago when you watched the sunlight that was beginning to peek through the curtains that never just quite shut all the way, dance across his bed-ridden hair and over the muscles in his back, ghosting over where the sheet was draped over his bottom half.

And just like then, you brushed a few of the stray hairs from his face, watching his too tired muscles unable to fight off the smile on his face whilst his hand came up and held yours against him for a moment before he kissed the centre of your palm.

“What time is it?”

“A little after four…I think. I don’t think the others are back yet.”

“I think we’d know if they were.” Logan joked a little before gazing at you. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think. A little less sick.”

“Good.”

You nodded for a moment before looking back at Logan. “I think I want to do this.”

Logan gave you a questioning look for a moment. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I’m sure. If you don’t want to-”

“I want to.”

It wasn’t ever a second thought for Logan when he had come to terms with you being pregnant, as well as him being the first to know. He would have supported any decision you made, but he couldn’t help but feel a little more than happy when you confirmed his question.

He had been in love with you ever since you had splattered midnight spaghetti sauce on your face from when you had slurped spaghetti. He had chuckled and wiped a spot from your chin with his thumb.

Of course, he wasn’t blind.

He had always found you attractive since he first met you, but becoming your friend and falling in love with you two years later over a bowl of spaghetti as you graded papers…that was something he could have only ever dreamed of.

That night, he thought about kissing you. But promised himself he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. You were both friends.

And when you both almost kissed after having stepped into him whilst you were both outside looking for logs to put on the fire pit outside, he had a strong feeling you felt what he was feeling, too.

But fear…stopped you both.

And Rogue’s voice from shouting for you both since you’d both been gone ten minutes longer than you had planned.

But that night in the motel room.

Neither of you could deny it anymore. And there was no one around to interrupt.

Maybe both of you wished it had happened a lot more smoothly. But neither of you could deny you weren’t not happy about what had happened.

“You want to?” You rallied his words back to him, trying not to smile too much.

Logan nodded. “I want to.”

“Good.”

“One thing,” you said. “What do we tell the others?”

“You didn’t tell anyone what happened?”

You shook your head. “No. Work kinda got in the way.”

Which it did. A few hours after the motel, you had both gotten a call to get back to the school as quickly as you could. And work got too busy, neither you or Logan had time to talk about what happened and before you both knew it, it got too late to mention it again.

“Did you?”

Logan shook his head. “No.”

“This is gonna be a shock to their system.”

You nodded in agreement. “Maybe we don’t tell them so soon. At least wait until the twelve week scan.”

“Agreed. Accept-”

“Jean’s got to know.”

Logan nodded and clicked his teeth.

“But we can trust her. Maybe we’ll just have to corner her in her lab before she and Scott have lunch together.”

Logan nodded. “Good idea. Does the lab even have a sonogram machine?”

You reeled back a little. “Logan…”

“What? I might have…read…a couple of books.”

You could help but smile. “You read books? On pregnancy?”

Logan shrugged, once again trying to hide his smile. “Had to know if I was right about you being pregnant. And if I was, I wanted to know…what to expect. Just because I’m nearly 200 years old doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing.”

“And the entire world takes a sigh of relief. Even the oldest man in the world doesn't know what he’s doing. Maybe we don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”

Logan smiled, his hand pressing gently against the bottom of your back, pulling you closer to him. “Maybe we don’t.”

“But we’re gonna do this together?”

Logan gave you a nod and smiled. “We’re gonna do this together.”

By the time the others got back, Logan was on cooking duty since the smell of everything was sending you into waves of sickness once again, until Logan handed you a small bag of sweets with a couple of pretzels inside that helped curb your cravings and settled the sickness.

And, just like you had said, you found Jean in her lab just a little after Scott had left and told her what she needed to know.

Within moments she had you lay on the examination table and Logan wheeled a chair over to be by your side whilst she scanned your stomach to find your uterus.

“Have to say, you two took your time.”

“Huh?”

Jean smiled. “Rogue was sure something had happened that night at the firepit when she went to find you two. When she finds out she’s gonna be thrilled something did finally happen.”

You and Logan looked at each other. “Other than Rogue…how many people think that…”

“You two would finally stop being idiots and do something about it?” Jean clicked a couple of buttons on the monitor. “Everyone.”

“Everyone?!”

Jean smiled. “Yep. And now they’re gonna be thrilled. Take a look.”

Jean explained what you were looking at. “See, here their head, and their feet. They look pretty comfortable there, tucked up nice and cosy.”

Jean did a couple other things whilst you and Logan looked at the screen, Logan’s hand taking yours in his before he kissed your palm again.

“Wow…she’s so small.”

You looked at Logan with a smile, and tears in your eyes. “What makes you so certain it's a girl?”

Logan shrugged. “I just do.”

Squeezing his hand, you smiled and looked back at the monitor.

“I’d put you at about a little over nine weeks. We should be able to hear a heartbeat.”

You looked a little shocked, not expecting to hear a heartbeat so soon. But Jean found it and…you breathed. Or maybe you held it. You weren’t quite sure.

“Stay still,” Jean laughed a little.

“Sorry,” you apologised.

Logan held onto your hand, tears forming in his own eyes. But for two reasons. One; finally being close to you, seeing your baby and hearing their heartbeat. And two; the small thumping Logan had heard every time he was around you, almost like an echo of your own – or maybe his – had been your baby.

The baby you were having together.

He had been hearing their heartbeat for almost a week.

“Logan…that’s our baby.”

There was no stopping his smile. “That’s our baby.”

With his other hand at the back of your head, his thumb making familiar strokes back and forth, he kissed you and you squeezed his hand a little tighter, never wanting to let go.

“I’ll set this recording for you and print off a couple of pictures. Congratulations guys. You’ve got a very healthy baby.”

Jean did as she said she would and by the time you were clean of the gel and sat back up with Logan standing by your side, Jean gave you a couple of information booklets.

“I think Logan’s already got most of it covered,” you said with a smile, catching his slightly sheepish look. “But thank you.”

Jean hugged both of you. “Congrats guys, and don’t worry. They won’t hear anything from me.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

By the time you both got back to your room, you had one picture, as did Logan however the third one, Logan kept looking at.

Without saying anything, you both came to an agreement and it wasn’t long before you found who you were looking for.

Closing the library door, you checked all the spaces before confirming both yourself, Logan and Rogue were alone.

“What’s going on?”

Coming to a stand, Rogue stood in front of Logan and you rounded the table to stand beside him.

He held out the picture. “We wanted to give you this. Figured you should be the first to know…apart from Jean.”

Rogue took the photo in her hands from Logan, it taking a minute before it all finally clicked in her head and confirmed what she was looking at.

Baby Y/L/N HOWLETT printed in bold white ink in the corner.

Rogue burst into a smile and let out a small laugh before hugging both of you quickly. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!”

“But you can’t tell anyone.” Logan told her. “At least not yet.”

Rogue shook her head. “I-I won’t. I promise. Oh my god!”

She hugged you both again before stepping back.

“I knew something was going on between you two! Congrats, guys! Oh, my god! This is just…incredible. Insane.” Then she calmed down for a moment. “Thank you for telling me.”

Logan shrugged. “Figured the kid’s Aunt would want to know first.”

Rogue smiled even brighter and then looked down at the picture lovingly. “When do you find out the gender?”

“In a couple of weeks,” you smiled, holding onto Logan’s hand and arm. “But he thinks it’s a girl.”

“You do?” Rogue asked, with a smile still prominent on her face. “You two are gonna make the best parents.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks, Kid.”

And she was right.

As was Logan when, only a few weeks later, Jean confirmed that you both were in fact going to be the proud parents of a baby girl.

And by the time it came round to you giving birth, you may have bruised Logan’s hand as well as scared Scott into never watching a horror movie where a woman gives birth, ever again.

Bobby had been the first to find you when you went into labour. You were hunched over the counter in the kitchen, holding onto your belly.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

You managed to shake your head. “No.”

Then your waters broke.

“Oh, uh, okay. Okay. Rogue!”

Practically sliding around the door, Rogue saw what was happening. “Oh, crap. Okay. Bobby, go and find Logan.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“He’s…” you grunted through the pain. Jean had warned you that having a baby with one mutant parent might speed things along, but two?

As you had gathered from Jean’s easy let down…

You were fucked.

“Ugh.” You grunted. “He’s…he’s out in the gardens…they had trouble…ahh…they had trouble moving…”

“Just breathe.” Rogue assured you. “Bobby, go.”

And he did.

“Okay, we’re gonna get you downstairs. I’ll call Jean.”

Twenty minutes later, Jean was back from her store run and rushed inside the school only to nearly collide into Logan.

“Where is she? I can’t find her.”

“Rogue helped her down to the lab.”

When Jean and Logan finally ran inside, they found you bracing yourself on the bed as Rogue rubbed up and down your back and you felt the pain kick up a notch.

“They’re here! They’re here. Logan.”

Logan was already on it, replacing Rogue’s hand with his own in yours. “Where the hell were you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“How’s your pain?” Jean asked, walking back inside in her scrubs.

“Ever been kicked by a horse in your pelvis?”

Another contraction started up and as you held onto Logan’s hand, you braced yourself on his other arm.

Jean gave a hidden laugh from your comment and started setting everything up.

“Just tell me when the pain stops and we can get you moved onto the bed.”

It took a moment but eventually it slowed and, with Logan’s help, you got into the hospital bed and Jean checked you over.

It was a few more hours before you were ready to push.

“No, I can’t. It hurts.”

“Just a few more pushes. Come on, you can do it.”

Logan held onto your hand whilst his other arm supported you around your shoulders and back. “You can do it. Just a couple more and it’ll be over.”

You groaned. “Why can’t we be seahorses? The males have to push and they’re only pregnant for ten days.”

Logan could help but laugh a little. “We can always get Chuck to come down and narrate this. He’s no David Attenbourogh but he is English.”

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed a little. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m in enough pain as it is.”

Another contraction started up and you began to push again.

“That’s it! Good…just a little longer.”

Fifteen minutes later the room was filled with the cries of a newborn baby girl and you felt yourself cry a sigh of relief, joy and worry.

“You did it, honey.” Logan kissed your temple. “You did it.”

“Where is she? Is she okay?”

Jean smiled and nodded. “She’s perfect. Dad? Want to do the honours?”

Logan kissed you and walked over towards Jean, his hands trailing away from yours before reaching for the scissors Jean handed him.

Cutting the cord, Jean hurried to weigh and measure your daughter as quickly as she could before handing her over to you for skin to skin contact.

“Oh my god, she’s beautiful.”

Logan was crying tears of happiness. “She looks just like her Momma.”

“Congrats, you guys.”

“Thank you.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off of her. She was…everything.

Logan sat beside you on the bed, his arm above your head and the other around both of you. He saw you in her, but you saw him.

“You guys picked a name yet?” Jean asked, standing on the other side of the bed, the camera by her side from where she’s taken a couple of photos already.

Both yourself and Logan had been quiet about the names you had picked.

“We haven’t decided yet.” Logan told her, his eyes never leaving his daughter.

“But whatever it is, Marie is going to be her middle name.”

Jean smiled and took yet another picture. Everyone had been waiting years for this moment, for you and Logan to finally get together, for you both finally to realise you were both always meant to be, even before either of you knew it.

They were going to want pictures to keep forever of this moment.

As were you two.

And the ones Jean took were just the first of many to be taken, from everyone holding her beside you and Logan, to the big family photo with her in Logan’s arms, to the one you would always keep by your bedside of Logan holding his daughter for the first time. To birthday’s, Christmases, Easter, family dinners, first steps, first words.

The others that made a small collection in your memory box for her, where she’s learning to walk, holding onto Logan’s fingers, climbing up her dad and going over his shoulder, finding easter eggs with Logan and Rogue, sitting in Xavier’s lap at his desk, learning to bake for the first time – a picture you didn’t know existed until you found it in the small box Logan had been keeping. He had taken the picture of you and her when you weren’t looking and had multiple copies.

There was a picture of every moment and every memory that both of you would always treasure forever.

And even when the sleepless nights felt endless, neither of you wanted to change it for the world.

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