#sorry for sitting on this for months but the struggle is real

[redisaid]

Beneath the Blue Moon - Chapter 10

Blue

Whew, it's been a while huh? I've sat on a draft of this chapter for months that I wasn't happy with because it did not match with my original plan to make it more confrontational. But I just couldn't get it there because the girls were too tired and sad to fight. What a mood.

Anywho, I'm gonna roll with this as is, though it's changing the tone of the story to be a tad bit more pensive. Expect a new poll soon for chapters 11 and 12.

5073 Words

Read it on Ao3!

Change for better or for worse Move much deeper to immerse Drape your spirit in the words Some kind of ghoul Small exception to the rule

It was hard to express what she felt in words. Sylvanas was always a woman of action. Her state of being was one of action. She preferred to show her love rather than tell of it. She enjoyed fussing over finding and then giving the perfect gift. She found herself addicted to the light that would kindle in Jaina’s eyes when she showed her something new or interesting—not to mention the hitch of her breath, the keening whine that would slip past her teeth as Sylvanas showed her new pleasures in bed.

Sylvanas was simply not meant for writing flowery letters, sealed with pressed flowers and perfume, in lieu of all that. If Jaina expected as much for her, she would be sorely disappointed. Her writing skills were better utilized in direct and concise military reports. Those she could easily churn out.

Yet a letter to her soulmate was a struggle.

Clea sat swinging her legs upon the great gilded mahogany desk of the Ranger General, offering little in the way of helpful advice. “You’re quite lucky she’s stuck with you, you know.”

“Your confidence in me is truly inspiring,” Sylvanas drawled back at her.

Even her famous wit and verbal stings were a thing that needed playing off of. If Jaina were here, she could easily have her laughing her pretty little laugh within minutes, and watch as her eyes widened and an intrigued smirk formed on her lips at the continuous, rapid pace of their banter. But Jaina was not here. Her soulmate was off playing nice with the arrogant fop that was Prince Arthas Menethil, somewhere in the great pine forests of Lordaeron.

And Sylvanas was stuck here in her offices in Silvermoon, trying to write a love letter in between mountains of other paperwork. But, when all was said and done, she was quite terrible at saying how she felt. She would much rather show it.

In fact, if Jaina were here, Clea would be politely asked to leave the room so she could show it in the way she truly wanted.

Instead of pouring forth her very soul through her quill, Sylvanas was left to look toward the wrist of the arm that held it instead—to the soft glow of the soulmark that Jaina had lit for her. In her mind, Jaina was there too, a quiet presence of focused intensity. She was thinking about something. She was often thinking like this. Imagining what puzzled her today always brought a smile to Sylvanas’ face, sometimes when one wasn’t necessarily warranted from a woman who had earned a reputation as a stern but fair General.

It was then that Velonara walked in with a stack of even more reports for her, and Sylvanas knew that with her, all hope of getting her thoughts out onto paper today had left the room.

“Good afternoon Ranger General, Ranger Clea,” Velonara said with a mocking air of formality that disappeared as she slapped the stack of paper onto what little surface area of the desk remained uninhabited by other work or Clea’s backside. “Pray tell, what requires so much of your rapt attention on this fine afternoon?”

“I caught her writing to her pretty mage and decided to help,” Clea announced before Sylvanas could even try to think of an excuse. “It’s not going well.”

“Tell her she has nice tits,” was Velonara’s sage advice.

“That’s the first thing I said,” Clea informed her.

It had, indeed, been the first piece of advice Clea had given. And while true, it did not help.

---

What seemed like entire lifetimes later, Sylvanas stood upon the cliffs above the twisting wreckage of stone and mana that was once Theramore, once again lacking for words.

The space between her and Jaina might as well have been filled with such cursed rubble itself. It felt just as tainted and impenetrable. A canyon miles wide—a distance too far and too treacherous to be crossed, or to even consider crossing.

But Sylvanas was here. She was here and she was whole again but dead. She was here to offer the crumbling remains of what she once was back to a woman who had become so much more than she could have ever imagined in these intervening years. Jaina was an Archmage. She was a leader of nations three times over. She had conquered and defended. She had both lost and won so much and lived to tell the tale.

All the while, Sylvanas had been dead. Walking, talking, but dead. How could she explain it all, when back in those happier times, without war and apocalypse threatening at every turn, she couldn’t even express her budding love for her pretty Kirin Tor apprentice?

Now, to the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, she stood like a stone, unable to speak, unable even to begin to go through the list of things she’d thought to speak on, the apologies she prepared, the explanations that had been so clear to her when she’d muttered them as she paced through the Warchief’s chambers in Orgrimmar, hours before.

“I’m—”

“If you’re about to say you’re sorry again, save it,” Jaina stopped her before the second word could even enter into existence.

Only she was very sorry. It was hard to be anything but sorry. Surely, Jaina could feel it thrumming along their bond. If Sylvanas’ heart still beat, she would likely feel that too—the panic, the deep, twisting guilt.

Even Theramore was something she could blame herself for, though it was Garrosh who used the bomb. Still, she had not stopped him. She had not risked it all to defy him. And though strategically, it would have been utterly foolish to attempt it, standing here, watching the arcane scar upon the land that was once a bustling settlement twist and rot all the more, Sylvanas felt as though she should have tried.

Had Jaina thought of that, when she chose this venue for their meeting? Had she wanted to rend more grief from her, more guilt?

It was hard for Sylvanas to say. The woman who she had once loved was just as much a thing of the past as the cocky Ranger General of Silvermoon. Jaina was just as changed by her losses, just as scarred, and just as hard to read for all of it. The setting sun and the swirling arcane mixed their glows in the white of her hair—violet and orange. She looked aflame for it, and her eyes burned too, demanding.

So Sylvanas had to think of something to answer them. Some words, though none would ever be good enough. She started with a question, “You wanted to know why I wished to meet?”

It took a moment for Jaina to offer a simple nod in return, as though she considered leaving just then, finding all this unsatisfactory. But, her feelings as they traveled over their bond spoke a different story. Sylvanas focused on these instead, taking every ounce, every fiber of the intrigue, the hesitancy, the worry, and that little shred that might be wanting.

That, she could certainly understand. She wanted nothing more than to reach out to Jaina. To hold her to her chest. To breathe in the fire of sun and magic that played on the soft white of her hair. Even her gold had been stolen from her.

“I need you, Jaina,” Sylvanas explained. “I need your support. I need you to understand that I am truthful in what I say about the Jailer, the realms of death, and that I have everything to lose for it if I’m wrong. We all do.”

She watched Jaina stiffen at this. The words took their time in washing over her, and Jaina let them echo beyond her into the wreckage, and into the sea beyond before she deigned to respond. “Surely you did not retrieve your very soul from hell then, so you say, to ask for an alliance?”

“No,” the word echoes hollow. Putting that into words does it no justice. Yes, Sylvanas sliced her soul free from the very fingers of the being who kept it prisoner. She did it for so many reasons. She did it for her freedom. She did it because she was missing a part of herself. She did it, too, for love.

But Jaina did not look at her with love. Her eyes were hard, crystalline. They too sparkled with flecks of dying sun and untamed magic.

“I did it for myself,” Sylvanas answered honestly. “And for Azeroth. The things the Jailer asked of me seemed cunning and clever in the beginning. He had a plan. He offered me what I wanted, what I needed, and did not ask for much. It all seemed so clear in the beginning. Death is a cruel and broken thing, and he would free us from it.”

That too, was difficult to explain. What could she tell Jaina of that first death of hers? Of leaping from Icecrown hoping for release—hoping for an end to the mockery of life that still preserved her, only to find terrifying nothingness, then Zovaal, looming. He showed her the unfairness of it—the loss of self, the lack of rest.

Worst of all was when she asked, pleaded, begged him to see her family again—mother, father, Lirath—to know that they were resting safely somewhere would bring her the most peace she’d known since she was alive with Jaina in her arms, listening to her bare her burdens, her loneliness since their loss. But there were no such people left for her to meet. No, Zovaal had told her, what remained of the souls that were once half of her immediate family would not know her anymore. They would not judge her for all she’d done. They would not welcome her to run with them in the great hunt, as elven mythos would often picture the afterlife. No, they were perhaps an angel with blue skin, a trickster faun, a plotting vampiric courtier, a proud gladiator, a thousand other things, or even just loose, aimless anima. The person they had once been was gone. They would not know or remember her, for better or for worse, ever again.

Anything, it had seemed, was better than enduring the cruelty of that fact, and to bear the idea that it was the same for every soul that had ever been willed into existence. To be tied so deeply to others in life—only to lose them forever in the eternity of death? It was beyond cruel. And worst of all, that part was entirely true and real, and not just one of Zovaal’s lies.

It had been easy to dwell on that. Even missing half of her soul, it had been hard to follow the agenda to put an end to it when it dragged on and on, seeming just as cruel.

It had been impossible for her to follow it any longer as it directed her to hurt Jaina.

“No doubt you heard what I explained yesterday aboard our ships. No peace awaits us in death. He had promised me a way out. His domination magic made it seem so convincing, so clear. But I began to have my doubts that it was possible, that such a solution was even what he was driving me toward. Those doubts were solidified when he asked me to raise your brother, willing or not, and turn him against you,” Sylvanas explained.

Those words, it seemed, hit home. Jaina’s eyes widened at the truth Sylvanas had otherwise not revealed.

Yes, she was her tipping point, and yes, she should know that.

“You defied this master of yours then, for Derek?” Jaina asked.

“For you,” Sylvanas told her.

The sun clung to one last sliver of the horizon, lighting the western sky to brilliance in orange and gold. Belore would abandon them soon, but perhaps it was for the best. No doubt Jaina would struggle to look upon her as she did now. Devotion and apologies alike meant little if they came from such a wretched creature as she. Her beautiful apprentice turned Archmage deserved better than a mournful corpse.

“If you’ve known all this for so long, why not come to me earlier? That’s what I don’t understand, Sylvanas,” Jaina said, seeming confused at the end by the name that fell so readily from her lips.

The words met her along with a softening in the back of her mind. It was not what Sylvanas expected, not what she rehearsed for. She prepared for Jaina to be stony-faced, civil, but enraged. She prepared for eyes that would not meet hers, not these that stared, and danced with flame and fire and want and this bone-deep desire for an understanding.

Sylvanas held up her hands, bare for the occasion, glowing soulmark on display on her wrist. “Would you have believed me? Would you have even as I explained all these things yesterday, if not for the attack that came after? You wouldn’t have, and I have given you little reason to. I doubt it would have been any different had I sailed here straight from Lordaeron, Grand Marshall Garithos’ blood still wet on my hands.”

“You don’t know that,” Jaina told her. “I grieved for you. For so long, I mourned you. You didn’t even tell me you were—” she trailed off, lacking the correct words to finish that sentence.

“Still alive? Because I wasn’t. I’m a monster. An abomination. An affront to the gods themselves. I still am, even with my soul intact,” Sylvanas reminded her. “Back then, the Alliance saw my people as nothing more than mindless zombies, temporarily bending their feeble wills away from the Lich King’s control, soon to be consumed by it once again and be made to betray them yet another time. You mean to tell me you would have thought any differently?”

“How can I answer that if you didn’t let me try?” Jaina immediately snapped back, her frustration boiling through, both in the movement of her hands and like a pot of boiling oil in the base of Sylvanas’ skull. “If you had come to me, if you had—”

“If I counted back the hours to you I have wasted, dwelling on the past, one by one, we would be here all night and another day,” Sylvanas told her. “I don’t know how you would have reacted. When, where, or why. It doesn’t matter. Could have and would have do not help us now. They do not help the people of Azeroth.”

“They did not help the people of Teldrassil either.”

Ah, there it was. Sylvanas had speculated she would have to answer for her greatest of crimes here. Really, letting the Jailer in had been the greatest, but if it were not through her, then surely it would have been some other pawn that would have taken his power to Azeroth. She just had her anger, her reasons, her vulnerability in having only half a soul to judge by.

“It was not supposed to end that way,” Sylvanas told her frankly, voice low, finding for the first time she could not look into Jaina’s eyes as the dying sun behind her was too close to the memory of the roaring flames. “And while I know it sounds no worse to say this, only one key person was meant to die that day. I left the job to Saurfang, but his odd new sense of honor let Malfurion escape. The strategy to burn the tree was the extreme alternative I was driven to, though no doubt it is what the Jailer wanted all along. That is often how it worked. I would plan something sensible, direct and discreet, it would fail, and then I would be driven to the mad answer, every time.”

The silence stretched on long enough for Sylvanas to have to look up to gauge Jaina’s reaction. She wondered if SI:7 had heard of her original plans for the invasion of Darkshore. But what did it matter? They were doomed. All of these failures, time after time, all this falling back and having to rely on desperate measures—it had all been him. The taunting hand that had held a piece of her soul had pointed her in the wrong direction only to watch her damn ever more souls to his hell in her attempts to make it right again.

The fact that Jaina seemed to be thinking on it still, her mind grinding the words down to powder, as the sun flashed one last brilliant ray behind her, sinking below the horizon, was not lost on Sylvanas. It meant that she did not know. It meant that she was trying to understand.

“Tyrande would have killed you for it all the same,” was what she finally said.

“Perhaps I may yet welcome the mercy of her blade,” was all Sylvanas could say in reply.

There was another silence, but this one ended with a bitter, short laugh against the coming dark of night. “I don’t wish to feel what it’s like to die with you again, so let’s avoid that,” Jaina offered.

There. That was something. Just as the tension dropped on the edge of her spine. In the night, Sylvanas’ wrist glowed like a guiding star. There had to be something left of this, something worth saving. Even if all she had to offer Jaina was to share her life with a dead, bitter war criminal, who had been manipulated into some of what she’d done, and had gladly chosen other transgressions without so much as an ounce of that evil influence.

“I cannot say that Zovaal is to blame for everything I’ve done. I cannot draw an exact line for you of where he ends and I began. That, I think, is the worst part of it. The terrifying part. It all made sense in some way, because that was what he wanted. I wasn’t able to see it so clearly until the day I clutched my soul in my hands. His chains did not hold me then,” Sylvanas went on.

Feeling welled up in her along with the word. Bright and bold, crisp as the cold air of winter, burning as the summer sun. The extremes of emotion save that of anger had been a foreign thing, and still were to her. She felt too raw, too new, her skin newly shed.

“If I were thinking as clearly then, or any time, as I am now, I think I would have come to you,” Sylvanas told her.

She wanted to cry. Not in the screaming, raging way she’d cried for her death and the constant struggle that followed. No, she wanted to cry because this was all just awful. She wanted to cry because it was all like a bandage ripped from a scabbing wound that would not and could not heal. The world itself was even scarred—she had seen the tip of the great hilt of the sword stuck in its side even on her flight over here.

Jaina didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve planet-sized swords and magic-sundered cities. Only the purple of Theramore’s arcane painted her now, and she was beautiful in it. A stunning woman if ever there was one, powerful and stern in the way she stood and thought about those words.

She deserved a lonely Ranger General, whose life she had brought light back into just by existing. She deserved warm, languid mornings in a bed draped with the finest Quel’thalan silk. She deserved to laugh and smile easily, without worrying if she could or should for the state of things. She deserved the smile that even Sylvanas could feel a thousand miles away when she read her terrible attempts at love letters. She deserved the life they were supposed to have together.

But Sylvanas supposed it was not for her to say what Jaina deserved. White-haired and once-dead herself, her heart still beat, but she knew what it was to fail, what it was to have it all come crumbling down, and to be the one picking up the pieces yet again.

All Sylvanas wanted was a chance to be a brick in that new foundation they might both build together. Anything else, well, she would just have to see.

“I don’t know how I could have helped, but I would have tried,” Jaina told her.

“I know. I should have known,” Sylvanas told her. “And I know now it’s too little too late.”

Jaina reached for her, and just as Sylvanas had done when she’d first arrived, let her hand drop empty. It was covered still by the clawed gauntlet, hiding the mark that Sylvanas knew burned beneath it. Jaina was clearly not ready to divest herself of such armor around her, nor did she blame her for such caution.

Still, she reached.

“I can’t say I didn’t wish you did this all of this much sooner, but if you were manipulated as you say, I understand how hard it must have been to do at all,” Jaina said, looking down at that hand before clenching it, the metal of the gauntlet creaking. “But know that I don’t accept that as an excuse.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Sylvanas told her. “Or anyone. I deserve far worse than Tyrande’s blade at my neck, which I’ve no doubt she still wants to deliver to me.”

Tyrande’s absence on the ships was noteworthy. Even though the ceasefire had caused all Horde forces to be removed from Darkshore, she had pursued them to the last—apparently culling them from the boat ramps and swinging ladders hanging from hovering zeppelins. When Sylvanas had posed the question of where she was to Anduin at the beginning of the summit, he’d simply shaken his head.

“I only ask that if I am to be punished, that I do so after we have defeated Zovaal, at least in some measure,” Sylvanas went on. “I will be of no use rectifying my crimes if I am to be in chains once again.”

“I fail to see how that helps any of us,” Jaina concluded. “There is no doubt in anyone’s mind you have been truthful about this, you know. Not even mine. You were correct before in saying you had everything to lose if you weren’t.”

“Delivering oneself into the hands of one's enemies spouting madness they cannot prove is not the strategy of a woman with secrets left to keep,” Sylvanas noted. “I am done with secrets. Truly. Ask of me what you want, what you need to know and I will answer. I owe you at least that, for coming to hear me out.”

Sylvanas watched as Jaina’s lips wrapped around a question, then held it in, like a sigh she did not want to allow to escape. A prayer, maybe. A complaint, perhaps. There was so much to talk about, but the moon was rising, following her ardent and fruitless pursuit of the sun. Tonight, it was only a small crescent, still regaining its form and power. But, it was waxing, not waning.

And while Jaina seemed to debate what question she should ask first, she was asking.

Her pause left Sylvanas enough time to wonder what she would ask, if Jaina were to open herself up this way.

That answer was as simple as it was impossible, really. “Did you love me?” would be what she wanted to know. Ever, at all, still? It didn’t matter. But it wasn’t a question she’d been invited to ask, or one she could give voice to even if she was. Not now, at least. Perhaps not ever.

Perhaps she might never know. Perhaps, she might have to be content with her soulmate standing at arm’s length from her, struggling to find the right words, offering only distant hope of a truce, an alliance of needs, and nothing more.

But loved or not, Sylvanas supposed that was better than the alternative. Still, Jaina was here. She’d listened.

She opened her mouth again to speak.

“Can we maybe sit a while and just, well, talk?” Jaina asked. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear more about this Zovaal and the Maw.”

It was something. Anything at all.

“We can talk, yes,” Sylvanas answered, as she watched Jaina sweep aside her skirts, and sit upon a nearby boulder.

She gestured to the same rock, where a flat place was left empty just beside her, waiting, inviting.

It was the closest Sylvanas had been to her—no. That wasn’t right. Jaina had reached out to her the day before, touched her skin, asked for her to meet. No more melodramatics, no more comparisons of the years and years she’d lost to death and dominance, the wrong and the right of it. These would not serve Sylvanas in her goals, her atonements. Her actions would.

Sylvanas sat next to her soulmate, and though she desperately wanted to reach out to touch her again, she held her bare hands still in her lap. She would tell Jaina everything she wanted to know, everything she was willing to hear. Sincere words were never her forte, but as a career soldier, she could report like no one’s business. If Jaina wanted a report, she’d get the report of her lifetime, so long as she was willing to listen.

And Jaina, it seemed—sitting beside her, back straight, arcane fire dancing still in her eyes and on the strands of her hair—was still listening.

---

Another day, another lifetime ago, and Clea had once again perched herself on the edge of the Ranger General’s desk, legs swinging, without invitation.

“What has you grinning with your ears pointing straight to Belore like that?” she asked as she unceremoniously took up her favorite seat in all of Silvermoon.

“Would you believe me if I told you it was a report from Vereesa on supply lines?” Sylvanas offered, not looking up from the letter that was decidedly not that.

“No. Well, wait, it depends on the type of supply lines. I know you love a good artillery shipment, but maybe not that much,” Clea said.

Sylvanas huffed a laugh. While she would indeed be delighted to get some new ballistas requisitioned for the weaker points of their defensive lines on the Amani front, the likelihood of King Anasterian prioritizing that was far lower than her chances of even finding her once in a lifetime soulmate, whose letter she was actually smiling over.

Clea took this opportunity to peek for her answer and snorted her own response, “Well, I doubt Vereesa writes to you in Common, so I’d say you’re drooling over a letter from your pretty mage instead.”

“I don’t drool,” Sylvanas retorted. “But I also don’t wish to waste time lying to you. Now, Ranger, was there a purpose to your visit other than to pester me about my love life?”

“You love her then?”

Sylvanas knew that the question was meant to be teasing in nature. It was hardly meant as the existential blow that it felt like, a slap across the face that reality must be answered to.

Of course she loved Jaina. That much she knew. The truth of it was so odd though. She’d met the woman for only a week, and still knew precious little about her. Fate had decided to place them in each other’s hearts, forever bound by their souls, and while Sylvanas had relished in the idea of no longer being alone in this world, she had not done so with love in mind. Odd as it was to say, she sought her soulmate for wholeness’ sake as much as anything else really. It was a thing one did, a lifelong pursuit in the long life of an elf, one she was lucky to fulfill in her relative youth.

But yes, the answer was easy. She loved her. She loved Jaina with every fiber of her being, every steady beat of her heart, every calming reminder of their bond as Jaina’s thoughts and feelings leaked so subtly into her mind across the vast distance that separated them, and likely would for much of their lives. They were still figuring out where they would live, where they might even meet for the next time, once Jaina was finished with this silly little jaunt around Lordaeron.

She wanted Sylvanas to come to Dalaran, of course. That was the topic of this letter, apparently sent just before she left the city of mages to accompany Prince Arthas.

Sylvanas hated Dalaran, but for Jaina, she could try. That, she supposed, was what love really was, at least to her—a willingness to put all aside, grievances and gratitudes alike, just to be with someone. Even if that meant dealing with an entire city full of snooty magisters. Jaina deserved that much from her—to do as Sylvanas had done with her in Quel’thalas, and take her to meet her friends, to eat at her favorite restaurants, to see the things and people and places that were important to her.

It was all so strange how this worked with soulmates. It felt like doing love in reverse. The deep, unfathomable bond was there already, but Sylvanas didn’t know what wine Jaina liked best yet, or what she would do to cheer herself up or clear her mind when she was feeling weary of the world and its trials. She didn’t know her favorite color. She didn’t know what animal she’d most often pretend to be when playing make-believe growing up.

Sylvanas, of course, had been a fearsome lynx in her childhood games. What animals were even so prevalent in Kul Tiras for Jaina to assume their imaginary form in her play? Sylvanas didn’t know. She almost jotted down a note to herself to find a natural atlas of the island nation to familiarize herself with the possibilities, but remembered that Clea was there, now looking strangely at her as Sylvanas hadn’t responded in her musing.

“Of course I do,” she answered.

Because she did. She loved Jaina Proudmoore, and was looking forward to spending the rest of whatever time the gods might allow them to have together to get to know her, however and whenever she could.

[lesbianstarlightglimmer]

Can’t stand my fucking family

[gumified]

PRICE TO PAY

pairing: god!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary: you had prayed and prayed for the drought to finally end, for the village to finally be granted rain, so when meeting one of the gods you strike a deal and pay the price.

content: 4.4k, smut, pwp, big dick!gojo, virgin!reader, praise, degradation, dirty talk, cunnilingus (fem. receiving), ice play, bondage, gagging, fingering, squirting, orgasm control, overstimulation, public but also not public sex

note: have fun :D

The heat beat down on your face as you walked up the hill, buckets of water straining your shoulders. Your throat was parched and you were drenched in sweat. You were so thirsty it was unbearable. It had been months since the last rain and the nearest stream was miles away. Your village had long since lost hope, abandoning their faith in the gods. But not you. You knew they were up there. You believed they would help.

While everyone else assumed the drought would eventually end, as it had before, you couldn’t wait. Your brother was so young; he might not survive much longer. Water was life and without it survival was impossible.

“Hey, Ren.” You forced a smile for your brother. His face was flushed, and his clothes were tattered. “Come on, you need to drink this.”

Ren coughed, struggling to sit up. “Y/n, you’re back.”

“Yeah.” You brought the bowl closer to his lips, urging him to drink. He sipped weakly. “How have you been feeling?”

“I feel really hot.” You felt his forehead and sighed when you felt it even warmer than before. The fever he had was burning through his body. Ren wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging on you tightly. “Y/n you won’t leave me will you? Not like mum and dad.”

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, you felt your heart break a little. “Of course I won’t leave you. You’re gonna be stuck with me for the rest of your life, promise.” He grinned, giggling. There’s a small bit of you that wished that this would end soon but you knew better. 

“I love you Y/n.” Ren mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you too Ren.” 

You were shaken awake and you nearly screamed when you caught sight of a beautiful face in front of you. His jaw was perfectly chiselled and his lips were plump, kissable almost. You felt your cheeks flushed. His eyes were what captured you most of all. Sapphire swirls painted his eyes, you felt yourself being pulled towards him. 

“You mortals really do sleep like - what’s the saying? Oh yes - like the dead.” His sneer transformed his handsome features into something far more menacing. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to spend the night at a temple?”

“I-I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep by accident.” You tried to move away but it was like an invisible force was keeping you from moving your limbs. He smirked, crawling closer to you so that you were inches apart. “W-Who are you?”

“Little mortal doesn’t know who I am.” His tongue flicked over his lips. “You’re in my temple, little one.”

"Y-Your temple…" The cogs in your brain turned and you let out a frightened gasp. "Y-You're a God."  

He grinned, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Smarter than you look. It's Y/n isn't it?" Words failed you and you felt your throat grow dry. He twisted a strand of your hair around his finger. "You've been praying for a heavy rain season for weeks. How could I not remember your name." 

"Does that mean you'll help me?" 

"I'm afraid the weather is in my brother's domain. I control the oceans, mortal." 

"I know who you are, Satoru Gojo, God of the oceans and earthquakes. Your brother controls the sky and its weather." You said meekly, feeling your cheeks burn at how close he was. The tapestries had always depicted him as a handsome man with bulging muscles. But something about seeing him in real life had you so enamoured. 

Satoru smirked, the blue in his eyes growing even brighter. His body glowed with a soft, golden aura. You gulped, unable to meet his gaze. "And yet you knew that, but still came to pray to me every day, making sacrifices as well."

"W-Well they say you're the most generous s-so I thought…"

"You thought I would help you?" Satoru cocked his head to the side. "Don't you know everything comes with a price?" 

"And I'm willing to pay that price." 

A silent pause passed between the two of you before a smirk crept up on Satoru’s face. You noticed his eyes grow darker, the bright pigment transformed into a much more seductive hue.

“My, my, little mortal’s brave.” You felt his eyes trailing over your body and you felt like you’re being hunted. “So you’ll do anything?” His fingers brushed over your thigh teasingly. You nodded. 

A wicked grin spread across his face. You squeaked in surprise when his mouth collided onto yours. The intoxicating scent of the ocean filled your senses and your eyes fluttered shut. Satoru’s lips moved ferociously against yours, it made you feel dizzy yet they tasted sweet at the same time. You could taste the sugary taste of leftover ambrosia as he delved into your wet cavern, tongue exploring each and every crevice. 

Your arms remained by your side, unsure of what to do. But when Satoru tugged you forward, they wrapped around him tightly, and you felt him smirk. Your hands wandered over his rippling muscles, trying to carve the feeling into your memory. He bit down on your bottom lip, drawing the slightest bit of blood.

The taste of your own blood mingled with the sweetness of ambrosia, created a heady mixture that made you gasp. Satoru pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Everything comes with a price, little one." He murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. "Are you sure you're willing to pay it?"

You nodded, breathless and trembling. "Anything, just please help us."

Satoru's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker. "Very well, mortal. But remember, once a deal is struck with a god, there's no going back."

His fingers traced patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "You'll belong to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Body and soul."

You felt yourself growing hot as he ravaged your mouth, a soft growl emitting from his throat. You weren’t familiar with his actions, you had never been bedded, too busy tending to your sick brother. The people had called you many names but you didn't care. But now, with your minimal experience, you were nervous, scared even at the thought of a God deflowering you. Nevertheless, you started to grow wet, your pussy started to stick to the thin piece of cloth that covered you. 

Satoru pulled away yet again, a single strand of salvia connected the both of you as he awaited your answer. You panted, out of breath and slightly intoxicated from just the sense of him. 

“Do you accept?” His voice was deep and sultry, something about him was so deliciously seductive that you couldn't help the way your thighs squeezed together involuntarily.

"I accept." 

Satoru's eyes flashed with satisfaction. "Good. Then let our pact be sealed." He captured your lips again, this time more possessively, his hands roaming your body with a newfound intensity. You let out a moan as his tongue slithered back into your mouth. 

He sunk two fingers into your folds making you whimper at the stretch. Your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging down. Satoru licked his lips, continuing to pump into you, gradually increasing the pace. The lewd noises that filled your ears made a blush rise to your cheeks. Never in your life have you felt so dirty, so shameless.

"You're dripping, my sweet. Who would've thought you'd be this turned on." His tone was laced with unmistakable lust and hunger. "Been watching you for so long. Couldn't wait any longer to be inside you." He growled, fucking into you faster, drawing louder moans out of you. 

"S-Satoru…" You gasped as he plunged another digit into you, manoeuvring his fingers so he hit all the right spots. "I-I…"

He stared at your core, your juices all over. For a second he slowed down, giving you a chance to breathe and relax before he picked up the pace. Curling his fingers, touching your sweet sensitive spots in your velvet walls. His thumb rubbed your clit, playing with your sensitive nub. A tight hot rope seemed to wrap around your stomach as Satoru continued to fuck you harder. He smirked as your walls squeezed his fingers. You let out a gasp when he touches a particular spot within you. 

"Close my sweet?" He whispered, lips brushing against your ear and it sent you closer to your high. All you could do is nod fervently, the twisting feeling wrapping around your stomach tightened. You mewled as he fucked you faster, adding another digit. “You can’t cum just yet, got to make sure you’re ready for my cock.” He hummed.

You clenched around his fingers once more, tears pricked your eyes as you threw your head back at the pleasure you were receiving. Satoru surged forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He swallowed your moans and whimpers. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Your noises were like music to his ears as he drank in every moan, whimper, mewl - the breathy gasps and the lewd pants. 

“You know my sweet, there’s something that I love about being a God.” 

You gazed at him through your lashes, his lips curling up into a devilish smirk. An ice cube appeared in his hand. You weren’t sure what to think until he slid it up and down your hot wet folds, then you were gasping at the coldness that hit your core. There was a rush of newfound delight that filled you up and you were rutting your hips, asking for more.

Satoru simply grinned, pushing the cube of ice further inside you watching your reactions bloom in front of him. His fingers were dripping with both water and your arousal. You let out a soft hiss when the ice cube is pressed harder into you. The coldness contrasted with the warmness of your needy walls. It spiked through your body as it made your blood rise and your head became light at the overwhelming feeling. You were clutching onto Satoru with so much force that it would hurt him but he didn’t care, not when he was in the midst of unravelling you.

“Let’s see how many you can hold.” It shocked you into a frenzy when you felt another ice cube get pushed inside you, the last one still slowly melting. 

“Mmmph. Too much, ngh, feels weird, ‘s too much.” Your mind seemed to explode as you babbled incoherently. “F-fuckkk ‘toru it’s cold a-and-“

You were unable to finish your sentence as Satoru reached out his hands to pinch your clit causing you to jolt forward at the sudden gesture. You felt a rush as you gazed up at him. watching his smirk grow as he looked at your sopping pussy. 

“You’re so beautiful!” He teased your folds, rubbing against them harsher. “Take more for me okay? You’re such a good girl, my sweet, keep that dirty pussy dripping as I stuff you, okay?” Satoru’s lips brushed your ear. “Then I’ll let you cum.”

You felt yourself spiralling into euphoria when he slid his finger down your pussy. His tongue flicked over his lips as he admired your fucked out face. Morals left your body and you let your urges take over. All reason and thought left you as you were reduced to a whining needy mess. Your pussy clenched pathetically around the ice cubes, the cold still surprising you. Satoru did nothing but coo at you, tucking strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“Come on my sweet.” He urged. “You're doing so well. This pussy is so pretty, she’s just so gorgeous, fuckkk, wish you could see her.”

“A-Ah, ‘toru good f-feels so g-good.” 

You were writhing beneath his grip, a feeling of overwhelming pleasure surged through you as he continued his actions. Your pussy constricted around his fingers and you felt something grow within you. Your nerves and senses were heightened as you felt his fingers nudge at your swollen clit. 

“I-I feel somethingg, ngh, f-feels weird like I’m gonna burst-” You gasped out, unable to keep the noises within you.

“Awwww.” Satoru’s tone was mocking as he watched your tiny frame twist and turn under his grip. A wicked grin spread across his face. “You’re close, my sweet, beg to cum and maybe I’ll be nice enough to let you.” 

It was almost painful but the pleasure was so uncontrollable that it overtook any pain you felt. Satoru slid another freezing ice cube into you, making you scream. Your mind was dizzy and you could only feel yourself getting stretched repeatedly with the cold object. Your pussy walls were both cold and hot, the mixture that Satoru had concocted dripping from them. Sweat covered your body, glistening as the sun shone down. You felt like you were on the verge of collapsing, so desperate for an unknown pleasure to come to your saviour.

“S-Satoru...cum, p-please. W-Wanna cum…” You stuttered helplessly, silently shrieking at the contrast of temperatures.

“More, beg more.”

You screamed at the feeling as his fingers thrusted in you making your head light as you desperately gripped onto his shoulders, clawing at some sort of way to tether you to the present. His words were laced with seduction as he continued to tease you.

“C-Cum cum cum, please pleaseee, needa cum so b-bad ‘toru fuckkk! P-Please let me cum, ‘s too much need it s-so bad, please please please!”

Satoru laughed as he buried his head in your neck, placing kisses on the empty space. He loved your desperate pleas, the breathy moans that would fill the gaps and the tears that followed as you begged him for something you had never experienced before.

“You’ve been such a good girl.” He purred, his deep voice making you clench around him. “And good girls deserve to cum. Go on my sweet, let it all out on my fingers, make a mess of this pussy.” 

You felt a wave of ecstasy rush over you as he pressed his fingers down, biting into your neck. Your body shook at the sensation that overcame you. You rocked against Satoru as you felt your pussy squeeze and constrict. A newfound feeling gushed from within you and you felt yourself scream at the pleasure. Your mind was reduced to filth as you moaned, the ringlets of your release jolting through your body. Satoru groaned at the way your cum coated his fingers and he stared at your desperate cunt, watching the aftermath of the mess you had just created. You didn’t know what to think, your mind cloudy and confused. 

“You fucking squirted, dirty fucking girl.” His eyes were transfixed and suddenly you felt embarrassed at the wetness between your thighs. He reached his hands out forcing you to stay open for him, exposing your most private part for him to ogle at. “Who knew this cute little pussy was capable of such filthy things. You’re just a whore in disguise aren’t you?”

Your pathetic mewls convinced him of nothing. Satoru stared in wonder at your pussy, watching as you clenched around nothing. He slid his fingers in his mouth, tasting every bit of you. A low moan was heard before he dived down licking up your mess. Still sensitive, you cried in shock, threading your hands through his hair. He sucked harshly at your sensitive bud, lapping at your juices. The feeling made tears bleed from your eyes and you tug on his wispy locks. 

“Like it, my sweet?” His voice sent tingles down your spine and you held back the urge to scream. “Can’t hear you?”

“L-Like it so much ‘toru…” You let out a shaky breath, beads of your tears clinging onto your lashes. “P-Please…”

He lapped at your cunt greedily, swallowing every single drop. Your arousal dripped from his chin with a mixture of his salvia. His ears were blessed at the loud squelch that would emit from between your legs. Everything was so messy but he didn’t care as he continued to play with your pretty cunt. You could only whine and quiver at the feeling. Your legs shook, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Blissful thoughts whizzed by as he kept you locked in an euphoric sensation. You struggled to not cry out and sob when white dots blurred your vision. 

Satoru flicked his tongue against your engorged clit, plunging the wet muscle inside. His mouth was hot and you felt his tongue circle your swollen clit messily while you stuttered out pleading moans. He pried open your thighs, desperate to access deeper into the precious new heaven he had discovered. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head at the overstimulation, finding it hard to focus on anything as your senses overloaded. Your mouth hung open as sweet whines constantly fell from your lips. All you could do was lie there letting Satoru ravage your pussy like a man dying of thirst.

“C-Close, close so so so close!” You gasped when you felt him release with a pop before diving back down to continue to suck. “Too much, ‘toru ‘s too much, feels t-too goodddd…”

It wasn’t long before you were cumming again. Another round of your wet arousal coating his face and he licked it clean. You were drooling now, salvia running down your chin as you felt the tears run down your face. It was too much and you feel yourself fall into a new world of pure pleasure. You could feel Satoru’s lustful grin against you as he sucked your pussy. Your thighs shook, chest heaving up and down. Despite the fact you had just released it never stopped the god from indulging you in his carnal desire.

"Sweet little Y/n." He cooed as his thumb ghosted circles around your puffy clit. “Think you’re ready for my cock?” 

It was a question that didn’t need an answer but you still nodded your head lifelessly. Your body was limp in his grip and you struggled to hold yourself up, relying only on him. Satoru smirked from above you, pushing you down on the marble floor. His hands were big and warm and the simple touch had heat blossoming at your pussy. You barely registered what was happening until you had your hands tied together. A thin golden cord wrapped around your wrists and Satoru bit his lip. You looked so beautiful, so pretty, so submissive. 

“I like you this way my sweet. All tied up and ready to be used.” He frowned and you panicked, scared you had angered him. He snapped his fingers and you found a piece of cloth in your mouth, stopping you from speaking. “That’s better, as much as I love your noises I find this much more appealing.”

Your eyes widened when he reached down to release his cock from its confines. You had never seen something so big and dare you say pretty. Satoru’s cock was red and flushed, pre cum oozing out of the swollen tip, dripping like pearls as they rolled down his fat cock head. You felt yourself drool at the sight and you didn’t think you would want something in your mouth so bad. He grinned smugly at your reaction, knowing you were unable to say anything as you stared transfixed at the sight before you.

“Don’t worry my sweet, I’ll make sure to make you feel so good. I know how much this pussy loves to be filled up.”

The words are dirty yet you couldn’t help but let out a muffled whine as he picked you up. His tip pushed past your folds, nudging into your pussy hole. You shut your eyes letting yourself feel the stretch that he gave you. His cock was so big and every bit of your body felt like it was on fire as he continued to push inside. He paused letting you adjust, whispering into your ear quietly. Filthy praises that only made you drip and mewl. It felt like magic and you whimpered into your gag helplessly. Satoru’s fingers brushed through your hair and he peppered sweet kisses across your face. 

It was like your world had imploded as he thrusted into you. Nothing else mattered as you moaned and squirmed at his touch. Your senses went into overdrive as he quickened his thrusts. He pumped in and out of you. He filled every crevice of your sex. His pace never slowed even as you felt all the energy leave your body. You screamed into the gag when he hit that particular spot that had you keeling. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head and you gasped for air through the gag. 

“Fuckkk you’re so tight, such a slutty virgin pussy. Look at how you’re gripping on my cock my sweet, she’s so loud.”

His words only made you keen with desire as you gave in to the carnal temptation that bloomed within you. 

“Mmmmph!” Your moans grew louder with every harsh thrust as his cock touched every part of your gummy walls. “Ah-Ah-Ah! ‘toruuuu!”

Satoru showed no mercy as he pounded into you. Cock plunging in and out of your pussy. Wet noises echoed through the walls of the temple and a small part of you felt bad for doing this, here of all places. It was inappropriate but it felt so good. Too good even. He continued his movements and the binds that once bound you vanished and you assumed that this was a sign that Satoru wanted you to touch him so you obeyed. Your fingers dragged down his back, sure to leave marks. Fingers fluttered from place to place, desperate for something to anchor you.

“You look so beautiful, pussy sucking in my big cock. Such a good girl for me.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Everything he did felt amazing. “Moan for me my sweet, go on let me hear those filthy sounds.” 

You obeyed his command letting the lewd sounds tumble from your lips as you gasped for more. Your hands roamed the vast expanse of his body, the taut muscles that lay under your hands, each touch ignited sparks. His grip on you tightened, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp again. Every brush of his lip, every stroke of his tongue, every bite and nibble was a reminder of his power and you couldn’t help but give in completely. 

The vigor that he fucked you with was compared to no man and you couldn’t help the lustful sounds that escaped your lips as his hips snapped to yours. It made your mind reel with the feeling of pleasure. His hair fell into his eyes and you reached your hands to sweep through his locks. Satoru was so handsome. He was a god after all and you couldn’t help that your heart pounded whenever you looked at him.

You felt your orgasm approach and you clenched your hands around his toned biceps, nails digging into his skin and he hissed. You moaned repeatedly into the gag as your body shook frantically from the pleasure. 

“A-A-Ahhh! ‘toru ‘toru ‘s too much, nghh.” Your body thrashed in his grasp, wriggling and writhing as you felt the immense feeling build up again. Every movement magnified the intensity as you felt the shock ricochet throughout your body. 

“It’s okay my sweet.” Satoru whispered but his thrusts were unrelenting. His fingers brushed against your clit, circling the bundle of nerves as he drew out your orgasm. “It’s okay, let's cum together. Soak my cock Y/n, such a good girl.”

Your juices overflowed and you felt his cum pump into your body, filling you up until you were so so full. Warmth blossomed throughout your body and you felt yourself wringing his cock with every drop of cum. The feeling was incomparable and you gasped for air once he removed the gag with the snap of his fingers. Satoru kissed you, his lips were demanding, moving against yours with raw hunger. The taste of the ocean filled your senses, salty and intoxicating. He pulled out to place a kiss on your thighs, on your pussy. You were so sensitive and you felt his cum as it flowed out of you. He stuffed two fingers in your pussy and you squealed at the sudden gesture. His fingers curled in and out of you before he slapped your core. The sting sent shock waves through your body and you couldn’t help the moan that tumbled out of your lips.

“Keep it in there my sweet, I’ll be visiting again.” His voice was a husky whisper, deep and seductive. 

Then, with those words, he disappeared, leaving you a naked mess on the temple floor. You were breathless and reeling from the pleasure that he had just bestowed upon you. You had just given yourself to a god, one that had just stuffed you so full of his cum. You stared at the place where he had been in shock, your head felt light from all that had just happened. Your legs gave way when you tried to stand up, they were sore and achy, covered in splatters of both of your cum. His smirks and groans filled your senses once again and you felt yourself flush at the memory. 

Satoru Gojo had just introduced a lustful desire that you didn’t think you would be able to forget for a very long time.

You gathered your belongings with shaking hands, urgently attempting to steady yourself as you stood. The wet splashes that painted your body were a stark reminder of what had just happened, and you tried your hardest to conceal them along with your flushed, fucked-out face.

You hobbled your way back to the village, heart pounding in your chest. Every glance from a passerby felt like they could see right through you. The sheer thought that someone would stop to talk to you had you eager to get home unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru was watching from Olympus, his eyes never leaving your retreating form. He grinned, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as he saw your tiny self hurry home. The memory of your trembling body and flushed cheeks was seared into his mind and he felt his cock harden again at the thought. He knew you were thinking of him, longing for him, and that was exactly what he wanted. When the time was right, he would come for you again, and induce you in a pleasurable haze once more.

[celestialprincesse]

🎀💞

I just know that Simon Riley wants his face sat on🤭

nsfw below the cut 🪷 mdni

You'd always been a little shy when it came to sex, understandably so considering that your boyfriend was a real life Adonis, some kind of cruelly beautiful deity come to taunt you for your prudishness. Obviously, you and Simon had done it, you'd fucked countless times when he came back from deployments or frustrated from debriefings gone bad, but it was always, for lack of a better word, tame. You'd always assumed, given his past, that he wouldn't be down to have sex, period. The beginning of your relationship was a minefield of navigating boundaries and understanding the complexity of the beautiful man you got to share your bed with. What you foolishly failed to recognise, however, is that whist you subconsciously saw Simon as wounded, he saw your fragility as clear as day, like a ripple under the surface of clear water.

He'd aways been so impossibly gentle with you, even when you'd wanted things differently, too afraid to ask him and send Simon spiralling back into that dark place he'd only recently been pulled from.

"Want you to fuck my face." Simon's deadpan voice snaps you from your reverie, brings you back to where you lay sprawled and waiting in the centre of your shared bed.

"I'm sorry?" You barely manage to splutter, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at where he sits patiently between your knees, not even needing to look down to your panties to know that your cunt is already dripping.

"Fuck, love." The sound of his exasperated sigh makes you feel like you've done something wrong, but the almost pained crinkle of his eyes confuses you. "You need me to spell it out? I'd like you to sit on my face and let me eat you out." Simon's words make you choke, jaw hanging agape as you process the fact that not only is he willing to take such a step in your sexual relationship, but also that he's so seemingly comfortable with the idea of you essentially fucking his face. Sure, he's eaten you out before, but never in such a compromising way. "Are you -" A soft kiss being placed to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is enough to silence you as you look down at Simon practically grovelling between your legs.

"If you don't want to, you can say no, baby." "It's not that I don't want to. I just don't want to - fuck." You huff, slumping back against the mattress with a sigh as you struggle to find the words you need to express the way you feel. "You don't want to fuck?" He smirks wickedly at you, one hand still cradling your outer thigh as he presses his cheek to the warm skin, trying to lighten the mood. Ease you up a bit. "Simon." "Tell me what you're thinking. I'll make it make sense." God he's always so unbearably patient. It almost has you in tears.

"I just - I'm not so confident with stuff like that, you know? I mean it took us six months of having sex for me to even feel comfortable enough to ride you. Now you want me to sit on your face?"

Simon's eyes soften at your reasoning, and he practically drags himself up the bed until he's face to face with you, propping himself up on his elbows to stare down at your face, so beautifully flushed and bashful.

"If you don't want to do it, that's fine, but I need you to know, that I look at you and get hard okay? You're the most beautiful thing I've seen. Ever. If I died by being suffocated between your legs? Fuckin' kill me already, yeah?"

His words have you giggling softly as you play with his hair, distracting yourself from the burning arousal in the pit of your tummy.

"Okay." You nod, slowly, meeting his eye to make sure that he sees you're serious. "You don't have to say yes if you're not sure." "I'm sure, but can we go slow?" "Of course, baby. We can do whatever you feel comfortable with."

It doesn't take long for you to be sat nervously on Simon's hips, clothes piled on the floor, discarded in order for you to sit naked atop him, bottom lip pulled nervously between your teeth. "Do I just -" You point awkwardly between the general vicinity of your cunt to Simon's face, heart fluttering when you catch the way he gazes up at you like some sort of statue, some masterpiece. "Mhm." He nods slowly, pupils blown impossibly wide, the chocolate of his gaze turning almost entirely black. You feel his massive palms take your hips, guiding you up to your knees before settling your slick cunt just over his face.

"Sit." He grunts when he doesn't immediately feel the press of you against his mouth, his nose barely touching your puffy clit. "What if I hurt you?" "I'll let you know. Now, sit." Before you know it, his fingers are digging into your hips, leaving you gasping at the suddenly overwhelming sensation of his entire lower face stuffed against your pussy.

"Holy sh-" You whine, already beginning to roll your hips in search of stimulation, all whilst Simon gives a contented hum which rumbles through you and has you clenching around nothing. His hands guide your hips in their rhythm as his tongue licks a flat stripe between your wet folds, leaving you stuttering and your eyes rolling back, all whilst you grip onto his hair like of you let go he'll disappear entirely.

He sets a languorous pace with his tongue, eating at you like you're his final meal, hands digging firmly at the meat of your ass whilst he uses the slight bump at the bridge of his nose to press up against your clit, making you dizzy. Whilst he uses both hands to guide you, you use the hand not tangled into his hair to roll a hardened nipple between your thumb and forefinger, the sensation going straight to your pussy and making you gasp. Simon, perceptive as ever, notices your want and pushes his tongue inside you to push just that little bit further - and he can tell that you're close by the way your thighs clench around his ears and the fact that you're wonderfully more vocal than usual.

Similarly, sensing your oncoming orgasm, you desperately attempt to pull yourself off of him, all of a sudden shy about cumming on his face like you haven't done it countless times before. Your wriggling is met with a small slap to your ass which has you seeing stars as the small sting snaps the elastic band stretching taut in your lower belly, and Simon laps up every bit that you'll give him.

"Didn't think that men like me got to go to heaven." Simon sighs when you both lay sprawled and happy in bed together.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

I did not intend to write 1.1k of smut when I opened my laptop this evening but boundaries and communication are just so !! sexy !!

N e ways I'll just leave this here for y'all💕

[retrobutterflies]

Ambrosia | billie eilish

Billie Eilish x Female!Reader

Summary: Your avoidant attachment style can only work for so long until it's time to face the music.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Bi panic, hurt/comfort, fluff

A/N: If you've gone to see her on tour, you and I are in a fight.

You had been acting off. You knew it. And you weren't a very good actress so you could tell your friends knew it too. But no one had said anything, at least not yet. You had tried to drop hints of work being stressful or your lease ending soon but they were halfhearted and pitiful attempts to camouflage your real turmoil.

You could tell Billie knew it too. Her eyes lingered on you a little longer when someone would say a joke and everyone would laugh and you would be quiet in the corner consumed by your thoughts. A few times she called your name to pull you back into the conversation, a quirked eye brow and side smirk barely concealing the confusion or concern lingering in her eyes. Sometimes it was a gentle nudge in the side or handing you a fresh drink to pull you back from your mind. And it would work for a while until you couldn't stop focusing on how close she was sitting to you on the couch or how every time she would laugh her body would lean into yours and you would feel her warmth and smell her perfume. And then you would be sucked right back into the buzzing thoughts of panic and fear and confusion and you would be plotting your escape route before you imploded.

Tonight was harder than usual. You had been in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping your third beer that was finally giving you a little buzz, softening your brain for the time being. Oliver had come up to you with an award winning grin and glinting eyes. He was a friend of a friend but he seemed to be at every party you were and slowly but surely you started talking and flirting every time you saw each other. You knew if you wanted someone to dance with or chat or make out in the bathroom you could find him and he would give you his charming smile and an enthusiastic yes.

Only tonight it was different. Everything had felt different since your startling realization on the floor of your room a month ago. You noticed him before he reached you and instead of the usual feelings of excitement or anticipation, all you felt was anxiety. Your stomach had been in knots on and off all night and suddenly at the sight of him they were back to full power.

"I thought I'd never find you," he mused, strolling up to you and leaning his torso against the marble counter top. "I thought maybe you were avoiding me."

You let out a soft puff of a laugh, taking a larger gulp of your beer before replying, "I'm avoiding everyone.”

He quirked an eyebrow, pushing back a brown tuft of hair out of his forehead. "For any particular reason?"

You pursed my lips, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, thinking about how to respond. "Just, tired, I guess," was your intelligent response.

"Just tired, you guess," he echoed, eyebrows raising further as he tilted his head at you. His eyes were piercing and you could feel him trying to peel back the layers of your newfound shell.

"Too tired to even dance with me?" he asked, giving you a soft, playful nudge in the side. You tried to give him a smile though you were sure it looked more like a wince.

"I'm sorry, Oliver, I'm just–" You struggled to find the words, the knots tightening in your stomach, "–out of it today."

He let out a hum, taking a sip of his IPA, and stared at you long and hard.

"Is this about a boy?" he questioned.

You winced but it only seemed to encourage him.

"So it is. C'mon, I'm not upset that you have a crush, I’m just upset its not on me," he joked, nudging you again. When you didn’t respond he continued.

"So," he repeated, "Who is it? I promise I'll keep it a secret."

You shook my head, taking another large sip of your drink like it could wash away the anxiety blooming in your chest.

"Is it Ben? You guys used to talk didn't you?" he continued, eyes now scanning the busy kitchen and through the archway peaking into the living room.

"Or Sebastian? I know he's always had a thing for you. He glares at me sometimes," he let out a chuckle.

"Oliver–" You tried to cut him off.

"Wait no, it's Griffen isn't it? God, I should've guessed that first."

"Oliver, stop, please," You put a hand up to rub the spot between your forehead that was starting to ache.

He looked back at you and frowned. "I get it, you don't have to tell me. I have been told I give good advice though," he said.

You looked up at him. His big brown eyes were sincere and there was a time when they used to make butterflies erupt in your stomach. But now it was like any fascination you had had with him before had puffed out like a candle.

"Listen, I appreciate that, but–" You let out a breath, trying to choose your words carefully, "this has nothing to do with a boy."

"You sure?" he replied, skeptical. Your stomach twisted again.

"I'm sure," You breathed.

He left you alone after that, strolling away to find his next playmate. You stood there for a while, people watching and sipping on your beer. It didn't take you long to notice Billie with a few of your friends, perched on a couch in the living room, a perfect view from the kitchen. Someone said something and she laughed, throwing her head back, hair glinting in the low lighting. You stared for longer than you should've.

And then she finally noticed you. Her eyes caught yours and her smile morphed into a softer more tentative one. The anxiety that had been appeased for the moment roared back to life and you felt your heart rate quicken to the point that you could feel your pulse in your neck. You looked away, clenching onto your near empty beer can before sliding it onto the counter. You looked up to see the far door to the balcony and before you could think your legs were taking you there.

It was surprisingly empty and the chill of the autumn air felt refreshing against your burning cheeks. You leaned your elbows on the metal railing, taking in a few deep breaths as your eyes scanned the glowing lights of the city skyline.

You felt like you were going crazy. Everything you had known about yourself had suddenly flipped on its head on a random Tuesday and now you couldn't function normally. You were overthinking everything. All of your relationships, all of your friendships, all of your actions. How could you have not known? How could it have taken you this long? Don't people usually know right away?

"Hey," her voice hit you like an electrical shock. You jumped slightly and usually this would've made her chuckle but you could tell she knew something wasn't right. "Sorry," she said, her voice a hair softer, "I didn't mean to scare you."

You finally turned to look at her as she was closing the sliding door behind her. Her eyes seemed cautious and she took slowed steps towards you like you were a frightened animal.

"No, it's fine. Sorry, I'm–" losing my mind, "just a little tired."

She came to stand next to you, leaning her arms on the railing as well, and nodded. A few pieces of dark hair fluttered in the crisp breeze and your eyes lingered for a moment. You took in her side profile, the slope of her nose, flush of her cheeks, the pinched wrinkle between her eyebrows. She was quiet for a while, eyes looking out at the city, seeing through it like it wasn't even there at all.

"You seem to be tired all the time now," she finally said, her voice low and soft. You could hear her attempt at light humor, trying break the tension that had settled between you as the weeks went on but you could read her well and you could see the worry etched on her face and feel the apprehension in her words.

"Yeah," was all you could muster to reply. Your mind flashed back to all of the plans you had turned down or cancelled on last minute under the ruse you were tired. You turned your attention back to the city, trying hard to focus your eyes anywhere but her face.

You could practically hear the thoughts buzzing in her head, all the words and questions she had for why you had suddenly sunk into yourself. And why you had suddenly started avoiding her. She let out a soft sigh. You could feel her gaze on the side of your cheek but you couldn't bring yourself to look at her.

"Are you doing okay?" she asked, voice even softer than before.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You weren't sure how to respond. Any wrong word and you might very well burst into tears.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" You replied. You tried to sound nonchalant but even you could hear the slight waver in your voice. You moved your hands to grip the railing, an attempt at grounding yourself so you didn't lose your resolve in front of her. You were already thinking about an escape route, maybe to the bathroom to cry or maybe straight out the front door where you could call someone to come pick you up.

She paused for a moment, staring at you. You could tell she was trying to read between the lines, hear the words you weren't saying. And you knew if you met her eyes she would be able to pull them from you in an instant.

"You know," she paused again, her eyes still boring into the side of your face, "usually I don't pry because you always come to me when you're ready but–"

She let out another sigh, finally pulling her gaze away and back towards the twinkling night. She tapped her fingers softly on the railing. You could hear her rings making gentle clinks against the metal. It was a tell tale sign she was nervous or agitated, or maybe both.

"You're worrying me a little." She took another breath. "And I just want to make sure you're alright because I can tell something is bothering you even if you're not ready to tell me what it is yet."

You could feel your eyes start to sting and your hands were starting to freeze from clenching the cold steel of the railing for so long but you didn't dare move them for fear their fidgeting would give you away. But your throat had tightened to the point that you weren't sure you could say any word without it sounding strained and threatening tears.

"And–" she started again, her voice taking on a slightly pained sound, "if I did something that upset you I'm really sorry. I know I can be a lot sometimes but I don't want that to make you uncomfortable or . . ." She trailed off, grimacing at her own words.

You finally plucked up the courage to look at her. She looked pained and you felt the anxiety in your stomach turn to dread. She looked so worried and it was obvious that your strange behavior had been affecting her for a while now. And somehow she knew she was the cause.

"You started acting strange after the last time we hung out and I–" she scrunched her face up in regret, "–didn't mean to do anything that would make you uncomfortable and sometimes I get too comfortable and I forget to check myself–" she let out a frustrated sigh. You turned your gaze away sharply.

Your mind spun back to that moment a month ago, both of you sitting on the floor of your room. You didn't even remember what you had been talking about but you remembered your stomach had cramped from laughing so hard. And your faces were so close together. And she had started playing with your hair, first brushing it behind your ear and then twirling a strand or two. And then her finger had brushed so lightly against your cheek once, then twice, then it travelled down your jaw then towards your neck and left goosebumps and tingles in its wake and then so suddenly like a bolt of lightening you had wanted her to kiss you.

Your whole life you had thought you only liked boys. You had only ever had crushes on boys and dated boys and then suddenly you wanted a girl and you had to double back through every interaction in your life to see if you had been deluding yourself, refusing to acknowledge this second side of you. And it was an earthshaking realization that you hadn't even known yourself and that you had been so blind to it.

And then the worst part about it was that it wasn't just any girl but it was your best friend. The most major, important, integrated person in your life and suddenly you had feelings for her and you had no idea what to do.

"I just–I didn't mean to let it get–" she cut herself off, letting out another frustrated huff.

You couldn't risk looking at her. Your eyesight was already blurring from the moisture building up in your waterline and you knew if you made a sound it would cause them to start falling, ruining any last shred of dignity you had left.

You could feel her gaze on you again, penetrating and heavy and from the corner of your eye you could see her shoulders sag and her head dip slightly.

She was quiet for another few seconds before murmuring a quiet, "I'm sorry."

It made your heart clench painfully and you wanted to turn to her and reassure her that nothing was her fault and you were just dealing with your own inner turmoil but you could already feel a few tears escaping your eyes and rolling hot and fast down your wind-bitten cheeks.

She took your silence as rejection and pulled back suddenly from the balcony. "I'll, um, leave you be for a little. If, uh–" her voice sounded pinched and low and you could picture the look of defeat on her face and it made you feel like throwing up.

"If you need a lift home, just, uh, let me know," she murmured.

She turned around and took a few steps to the door, hand resting on the handle. You turned to look at her, sudden panic and desperation clawing at your neck at the thought of her leaving even though a second ago that was all you had wanted.

"Bil–" Her name got caught in your throat that had tightened so much you felt like you were choking.

She turned quickly, shock filtering across her features as she noticed the tears.

"Are you crying?" her voice held a quiet tone of surprise but it was enough for the rest of the tears you had been desperately holding back to break free.

You cupped your hands over your eyes, a hiccup of a sob leaving your lips, and pressed your sleeves into your eyelashes in a piteous attempt to dry up your tears. You heard her whisper your name before you felt her in front of you.

"Please don't cry. I didn't realize–" Her hands went to your shoulders, squeezing slightly before pulling you forward until you could feel her torso pressing against yours and feel her arms winding around your body.

It was useless fighting your emotions. They had always won before. It was silly of you to think you could beat them now. You felt yourself sink into her, your hands moving to wind around her neck, pressing your cheek against her warmth.

"I'm–I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were so upset. I–" she sounded like she couldn't find her words, still surprised by your reaction. Her arms tightened around you, one of her hands reaching up to cup the crown of your head.

She dragged her hand down the back of your head, fingers raking through your hair, brushing against your scalp. You stood there for a while, your tears soaking into the sleeve of your shirt, her delicately stroking your head, dolling out a few hushed apologies even though there was nothing for her to be apologizing for.

Finally, when your choking whimpers and nearly ceaseless tears quieted down, she pulled back. She pulled her sleeve over her hand and pressed it gently against your cheek and with slow and deliberate movements she wiped away the wetness on your face. It was an intimate enough gesture to bring more tears to your eyes but she tutted at you.

"Come on, baby. I don't want you to run yourself ragged," she cajoled though her voice was still hushed and the worry never left her face.

'Baby' hit you right in the chest. She had called you that before, and more often in recent memory, and though it had always made you feel warm it had never quite knocked the breath out of you like now.

She swiped her thumb over your eyelid, then the other, brushing the new tears from your lashes. Then she swiped the delicate skin under your eyes, once, twice, maybe a third for good measure. You couldn't tell where the flush in your cheeks from the cold stopped and the blush began. Her eyes now held yours and in the darkness their hue was almost as dark as the deepest part of the ocean and you could see the lights of the city glittering in her irises like she had plucked all of the stars from the sky and sprinkled them in her eyes. And for a second time you were breathless.

"Why don't I take you home?" she breathed, eyes now flittering around your face.

You wanted to reply with something witty, something to ease the tension even a hint but you couldn't find your words. All you could do was give her a nod. She held out her hand to you and like it was second nature you took it. Her rings were cool against your skin but her hand was warm and soft and she gave you a reassuring squeeze before gently tugging you back inside the apartment.

She didn't bother to say goodbye to anyone. You were sure she was doing it for your sake. You knew you looked like a mess. Her car was parked on the street and she opened the passenger door for you and waited until you were seated before shutting it and going towards the driver's side.

She didn't say anything, only turned the radio on to a comfortable buzz before starting in the direction of your apartment. You leaned your forehead against the cool glass of the window and shut your eyes tight, trying to take in the small moment of peace before you knew you would have to finally explain yourself. You could feel her heavy glances and for a moment you swore she was going to reach out to touch you but she didn't and soon enough you were pulling into the parking garage of your apartment.

She pulled into one of the designated spots for your unit, the other one reserved for your roommate. It was essentially hers since you didn't have a car and the familiarity of her pulling in like normal when she hadn't done it for a month had your heart clenching again.

The elevator ride was quiet as was the walk to your unit. When you opened the front door, your roommate and her boyfriend were cozied up on the couch, watching the newest slasher flick. You had calmed down enough to offer them a pleasant greeting as you took your shoes off and they turned their attention from the glowing TV to respond. You could see the peaked interest on your roommate's face at the sight of Billie standing next to you who she hadn't seen since that fateful day.

"Let us know if we need to turn the volume down," your roommate said and you gave her a small smile before leading Billie down the hall and to your room, shutting the door behind you.

For the first time ever, she looked somewhat lost being in your room. You were so used to her sprawling on your bed, borrowing your clothes without needing to ask, using far too much of your body wash when she took a shower and now she was lingering by the door, arms crossed over her chest like she was too scared to touch anything. You dropped your bag onto your desk and sunk down to sit on the bed. You patted the spot next to you.

"You can come sit," You said, before adding, "If you want."

She relaxed slightly and nodded, shrugging off her jacket onto your desk chair before taking the space next to you. You sat there in a thick silence. You opened your mouth to speak but your courage was depleting at a rapid rate and your eyes kept flashing back to that moment a month ago, seeing you both like ghosts sitting on the floor in front of you. She finally broke the silence first.

"I just want to say that," she took a steadying breath, eyes focused on her hands that were wringing nervously in her lap, "I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable and I'm sorry that I overstepped a boundary."

You let your eyes wander over her face. Her brows pulled together, furrowing slightly as she thought back to that day.

"I know you don't have those feelings and I–" she shook her head, pieces of dark hair falling into her face making her brush them back behind her ears.

"I shouldn't have let myself get close like that. It wasn't fair to you," she admitted, letting out an irritated exhale.

She was quiet again. You weren't sure if she was waiting for you to answer or trying to find the words to keep going. You felt your pulse quicken as you stared at her. She lifted her head and her eyes met yours and again you were breathless. She had always been beautiful but you had never let yourself view her as anything more than a friend. And now looking at her you had the crushing realization that you didn't think you could ever view her as anything but anymore.

"Billie," your voice was quiet and you didn't realize what you were going to say until the words were spilling out of your mouth.

"I love you."

She blinked at you, eyes wide and flickering between yours. And then she grimaced. You couldn't help but feel the wash of rejection settle in your chest.

"Don't say that," she said, shaking her head and looking like you had just slapped her.

"Why?"

She stood up abruptly, like being close to you was suddenly suffocating her. She crossed her arms back in front of her chest, eyes looking around your room but focusing on nothing.

"Because you don't mean it," she muttered, her eyes following the myriad of pictures and polaroids you had decorated over your wall, her face smiling back in more than a few of them.

"What do you mean?" You almost laughed at the absurdity. "Of course I do."

She shook her head again and turned back to look at you and you were taken aback at the sudden anger swirling in her eyes.

"You fell of the face of the planet four weeks ago," she snapped. Her eyes were narrowed and her thick liner made them look darker than normal.

"You barely answered my texts. I thought I had done something horrible. And then when I realized what I had done you were no where to be found for me to apologize. You iced me out so fast it made my head spin!"

You couldn't help but gape at her. She bit her lip, her eyes now glimmering with her own tears threatening to fall. The sight of them made your insides coil up so tight you almost felt faint.

"One second we're talking about the future, laughing at the possibility that we could ever live apart from each other and the next second you're gone like I was suddenly nothing to you," she exclaimed, her voice raising in a mix of anger and pain. A couple of stray tears rolled down her cheeks and she angrily wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"You can't just leave me like that and then . . . and then–" she let out a shuddering breath, "say you love me."

You felt your tears resurface, stinging against your lashes as you stared at her. Guilt was wrapping around you like vines and you couldn't believe you didn't realize how much you had hurt her from pulling away like that.

"And it's not fair because you don't even mean it. Not–" she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment like she could force her tears back.

"It doesn't mean the same thing to you,” she finally met your eyes, "Not in the way that it does to me."

"Billie, I–" You felt your breath get caught in your throat, "I'm so sorry."

She stared at you for a painstakingly long moment before the anger seeped out of her and was replaced by dejection. She sunk down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"No–" she rested her forehead against her knee, her face now hidden from your gaze, "I'm sorry. I just–You'd think at this point I'd be able to deal with it better, you know? But it doesn't seem to get any easier."

You got up from your spot on the bed and sunk down to the floor with her.

"You have feelings for me," You suddenly realized, eyes scanning her as if you were trying to see what you had been missing all this time.

She let out a humorless laugh. "Brutal, isn't it?”

She chuckled again, raising her head to rest her chin on the top of her knee.

"You don't even like girls. And I can't seem to like anyone but you," she admitted, her voice rasping at the end. It sounded like she had accepted her fate long ago and you couldn't help but feel the pang of regret in your chest at wishing you had realized this so much earlier.

"I tried to make it go away. But sometimes I would just let myself pretend just for a second that you felt the same way," she let out a heavy breath.

"The last time I was here, I just, I let myself pretend a little too long and I got carried away."

She met your eyes and a few rouge tears dropped down her cheeks. Instinctively, you reached out and brushed them away, cupping her face and swiping your thumbs across the swells of her cheeks. She closed her eyes and you watched her face relax for a fleeting moment before the anguish was creeping back in again.

"You can't do that," she whispered, eyes blinking open as she pulled her face out of your hands. "You're only gonna make it worse."

You stared at each other for a few moments, the air heavy and thick with emotion. But you could feel your resolve strengthening after she bared her heart to you. You figured it was only fair to do the same.

“I love you,” you repeated, this time more firm than the last.

She winced again like the words were painful to hear.

“I mean it,” you said, “I love you.”

She shook her head, not believing your words or maybe thinking you didn’t understand her.

“You don’t,” she denied, opening her mouth to retort again but you cut her off.

“I do,” you insisted. “Please, just–Let me explain.”

She closed her mouth, blinking at you before giving you a short nod.

"I grew up in a very traditional household," you started, taking a wavering breath to ready yourself. "My whole life I was surrounded by nothing but heterosexuality. My parents, my relatives, all of my friends. And I had always liked boys but it had never crossed my mind that I might like girls too."

"And when I met you I knew you were going to be so special to me. It was kind of frightening how quickly we grew attached. But I had always valued my close friendships with girls that I just–" you shook your head, eyes straying to your hands nestled in your lap, "I hadn't realized that sometimes my feelings went beyond the scope of platonic."

"But last month, when you were here and we were talking I . . . I had this sudden realization that I wanted you to kiss me.”

You looked up to see her eyes boring into you. She kept so still like she was worried one wrong move and you would close back up.

“I had to . . . comb back through my life to make sense of it. I didn’t realize–I thought you just knew. I thought it was so crazy of me to only realize now and . . . how stupid could I be for not knowing I felt like this.”

You shut your eyes, thinking back through all those memories you had replayed over and over again.

“And then I thought back to moments between us,” you let out a shaky exhale, feeling your eyes sting, “How close we get, the things we talk about. How I don’t let anyone do the things you do. How I always look to you first for anything.”

You could feel her penetrating gaze even with your eyes shut.

“And then I just . . . I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Your friendship is so important to me but I didn’t know how to be around you without confronting these new feelings. And I couldn’t,” you winced, letting out another shaky sigh, “I couldn’t bare the thought of losing you because of them.”

It was so quiet for a moment you thought maybe she had left. But after a few beats of silence you heard her shuffle towards you and then slowly her arm curved around your back and she was pulling you into her.

“You could never lose me,” she said so softly it was nearly a whisper, her voice thick with emotion.

You bit your lip hard to stop it from trembling. Her other hand found your face and cupped your cheek, nudging you to look up at her. You opened your eyes to be met with her anguished expression, eyes glossy in the dim lighting, eyeliner smudged at the sides.

“And you’re not stupid,” she said, brows furrowing further.

“But how could I not have known–”

“That doesn’t make you stupid. There’s no calendar for this shit,” her thumb danced softly over the plush of your cheek, so light, so delicate, you couldn’t help but lean into it.

“So you believe me?” you finally asked after another bout of silence.

“That you love me?” she questioned, a rasp in her tone. You nodded.

She moved her hand to stroke back your hair from your face, thumb lingering on your hairline as she brushed back the soft baby hairs.

“Yes,” she finally conceded, eyes roaming around your face like this was the first time she was able to openly admire it. Her face drew closer and you could feel the warmth of her breath graze your lips.

“You just can’t go cold on me like that again,” she breathed, her eyes so blue and captivating like this was some sort of spell she was weaving on you. “I felt insane.”

You let out a weak chuckle. She mirrored your smile, eyes straying to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, making her eyes meet yours again, “I really am.”

“I know, baby,” she replied.

That was all it took for you to lean in and kiss her. She took a sharp intake of breath, maybe in surprise, but her lips responded to yours in an instant. They were so soft, velveteen and silky, and you could smell her sweet perfume overwhelming your senses. And she tasted like honey and mint and ambrosia and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t kissed her before.

Her hand raked through your hair, curving around the back of your neck, massaging the tendon as her kisses grew deeper and sweeter. You felt your mind start to mellow into a hypnotic buzz where you couldn’t think much past her and her satin lips and her soft exhales fanning over your face. Her other hand slid around your torso, palm centering on the small of your back, before she was pulling you into her and up onto her lap.

“Fuck,” you breathed between kisses, wrapping your arms around her neck so you could press yourself in further.

Slowly her kisses strayed from your lips, tracing the edge of your jaw. She nudged her cheek against the underside of your jaw making your head lift so she could press fiery kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. You dug your fingers into her hair, tightening your hold when she found an extra sensitive spot making her let out a pleased hum against your skin that vibrated and tickled.

“Bil–” You could barely speak, so consumed by her ministrations.

She littered kisses on your neck and over your pulse point where you were sure she could feel how fast your heart was beating. You felt her grin against your skin, nipping softly before apologizing with a searing kiss. Your body was turning lax and her arms tightened around your torso, anchoring you to her.

Then her lips were moving back up, leaving a wake of tingles as they climbed before they found yours again. You kissed back eagerly, trying to convey everything you weren’t able to in words, your guilt, your fear, your worry, your adoration, your love. And she drank you in, evaporating the remnants of your anxiety and doubt.

It took you a moment to realize one of her hands had slipped under the back of your shirt, her palm warm and pleasing against your bare skin. She dragged her nails lightly down your spine and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sensation. You felt her smile against your lips and after pressing one, two, a third, another kiss she finally relented, pulling her head back so she could look at you.

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed. Hers were half-lidded and penetrating and her lips were a bright pink, bruised and swollen. Her free hand reached back up, pushing your hair back and stroking her fingers delicately along your cheek.

“I love you too,” she murmured, voice so soft you could’ve missed it.

A flood of warmth filled your chest and a blush rose on your cheeks and she seemed unable to stop herself from leaning in and pressing a kiss against the flushing skin.

“I really missed you,” you confessed, sighing in contentment as her lips lingered on your cheek.

“Not as much as I did,” she said, leaning back again so she could look at you. She rested her head back against the foot of the bed, looking at you low through her dark lashes.

“No I was going crazy,” you admitted and she let out a spluttering laugh. You smiled for the first time in what felt like forever, gaze lingering on her squinting eyes and the small dimple that appeared on her chin.

“Dude, I was out of my mind. I wouldn’t shut up about you. I literally wrote a fucking song because you were ignoring me,” she confessed.

“No way,” you laughed, delighted at the thought that she would ever like you enough to write a song about you.

“I did,” she affirmed, snickering, moving both of her arms down to rest behind your back, tugging you in again so you sat higher on her lap.

“Will you let me hear it?” you asked, moving your hands down to her neck, finding the soft baby hairs at her nape and brushing your thumbs against the sides.

“I was really in my feels,” she warned.

“That’s okay,” you said and she smiled at you so softly that you felt a swirl of butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Okay,” she said, biting her lower lip, eyes flashing back down to yours.

“Really?”

“Mhm, you just can’t make fun of me though,” she replied and you let out another soft laugh at the thought.

“I’ve never made fun of you in my entire life,” you said unable to stop your smile and she guffawed at you.

“Still a shit liar I see,” she retorted.

“I’ve never lied either,” you said, grinning and she squeezed your side making you let out a shocked giggle.

“‘No, I’m fine Billie. I’m just tired. Nothing is wrong and I’m not ignoring you’,” she paraphrased, poking fun now at your sorry excuses for avoiding her.

You groaned half in regret, half in embarrassment.

“I mean, it’s not entirely a lie. I was sleeping like shit,” you admitted.

She hummed, eyes seemingly now noticing the darker shadows lurking under your eyes, your makeup long gone from all of your tears.

“I was too,” she said, taking a deep sigh, “How do you think I had time to write a whole song?”

You laughed again and she smiled at you. All of the worry and sadness that had clouded her face for the past few weeks had finally left. She looked like she had her sparkle back and you felt breathless at the thought that it was because of you.

“Would you, um,” your eyes flickered between hers, suddenly nervous, “wanna stay the night?”

She let out an affronted laugh. “Did you think I wanted to leave?”

“I was just checking. I didn’t wanna push you or anything,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at her but unable to quell your smile.

“I know, baby. And I appreciate it,” she cooed, leaning in to kiss your cheek again.

“I like when you call me that,” you confessed, the words leaving your lips before you could even think to stop them.

“Yeah?” Her grin deepened and you nodded, your cheeks warm. She hummed again.

She stared at you for another long moment, eyes scanning your face, her hand reaching up to brush your hair back. Your eyes fluttered shut at the comfort.

“You’ll tell me next time when you’re this upset?” she asked, voice softer now.

You blinked open your eyes. Her worry was seeping back and you felt the guilt pool in your stomach again but you pushed it back, confident in the fact that you couldn’t ignore her again even if you tried.

“I promise.”

She stared at you long and hard. And then she leaned in and pressed another silken kiss to your lips.

“Good because otherwise I’m breaking down your door,” she mumbled against your lips and you couldn’t contain your laugh. And then she pressed in further, kissing away all the guilt and fear that lingered, replacing it with nothing but the touch of her lips.

A/N: If there are any spelling or grammatical errors no there aren't (me gaslighting you)

[amethystwrytes]

Of Course, Professor

Pairing: Law Professor!Lee Know x Female Reader

Genre: Smut. Romantic-ish. Basically just porn with a hint of plot tossed in so I don’t just keyboard smash sex stuff on the page and feel bad about myself. 18+.

Summary: The law professor everyone is scared of generously offers to help you with your school work.

Warnings: There is explicit language. There is explicit sex (oral, penetration, teasing, edging, cumshot). There is a Professor/Student relationship, and IRL I do think that’s super inappropriate BUT this isn’t real life and I promise everything is very consensual, there’s no like “give me sex and you’ll get an A” kinda stuff, so, it’s all very much in my own personal scope of comfort. I wouldn’t write anything I felt was yucky. If any of that rubs you the wrong way though, that’s totally fine, and this one isn’t for you which is completely okay.

A/N: So, once upon a time in my undergrad years I was determined to be a lawyer. For a solid academic year I changed my major to Paralegal Studies because I figured that would be a perfect foundation for law school (smart, right?). Except like, three months in I was miserable and hated everything about it and realized that it absolutely couldn’t be me. I ended up having a similar discussion with my academic advisor/professor - except I didn’t end up fucking them - not that professor anyway (kidding). I always wanted to write a story about that awful year, and now I have - kinda…sort of. With a twist of delicious Lee Know and forbidden love. Yum. 

“Can you stop please?” 

You look at the girl sitting next to you in class. Her name completely escapes you but her eyes are burning lasers at the pen you’ve been clicking nervously in your hands. 

“...Sorry…” 

You apologize and gently set the pen down on your desk. Professor Lee is taking his sweet time passing back the most recent term papers and you dig your nails into your palm in anticipation of your grade. 

To say you’re struggling in his Civil Procedures course is an understatement. In fact, you don’t seem to be doing well in any of the classes you’re taking this semester. The voices of your parents condescendingly telling you “Law School isn’t for everyone and that’s okay,” sound like they’re playing on repeat in an echo chamber. 

If you bomb this paper you’re out. You stayed up almost all night last night going over the pros and cons of dropping out. You went back and forth so long fighting with yourself that you fell asleep thinking about it, and when you woke up the only thing you could think of was letting the universe give you a sign. 

You had worked on your term paper for weeks, carefully piecing it together, you spent so much time in the library that you now know the TA who works at the help desk on a first name basis. So if you flunk it, there’s your magical sign.

“Ms. ___,” Professor Lee sets your paper face down on the desk - bad sign. He leans down just a tad, “Why don’t we meet in my office after class?” - even worse. 

“Yes, Professor,” you nod. You think about not even flipping the stapled monstrosity over, but curiosity gets the better of you. 

There it is, a painful 55% staring back at you in thick, blood-red marker. You spare yourself the trouble of pouring over the thinner red notes made in the margins of every page. You can’t help the tears of frustration that pool in your eyes. 

“Everyone enjoy your break and the time spent with your families, when we return we’ll begin our discussions on Summary Judgement, so please make sure you complete the reading outlined in the syllabus before we see each other again. Dismissed,” Mr. Lee nods and the ruckus of chairs against linoleum and exasperation fill the room. 

Mr. Lee’s office is four floors above the classroom, so you have a few minutes to spare - which you spend in the restroom crying, drying your eyes, then crying again. 

You’re dropping out of Law School. All that work, all that trying, all those late nights - and don’t even start on the amount of money spent on coffee and tuition and fucking textbooks and…you start sobbing again. 

“How did you do?” Seungmin asks when you emerge from the ladies room, his face immediately contorts into a painful frown at your red, puffy face, “That bad huh?” 

“I can’t really talk Seungmin,” you take a deep breath, “I’ve got to go meet Lee in his office before his next class begins.” 

“Fuck,” Seungmin frowns even more, “That man scares the shit out of me.” 

“Thanks,” you say, “That’s helpful.” 

“Sorry. We’re all heading to the Coffee House before everyone starts driving home for the break, do you want to come? After your meeting of course,” he asks. 

“Not today,” you shake your head, “but thank you for asking.” 

He gives you a sympathetic look and your shoulder a tiny squeeze.

You stand outside Professor Lees office for a few moments, gathering yourself. Professor Lee makes everyone nervous. He’s a hard instructor, emotionless sometimes, so direct it’s painful, and it doesn’t help anyone that he’s also devastatingly attractive. He’s a giant walking slab of intimidation. 

You softly knock on the door and he looks up at you from over his glasses as he types something. 

“Ah, Ms. ___, there you are. Come, sit down,” he instructs and you slide through the doorframe and slouch in an old green armchair across from his desk. 

“Just give me one second,” he says slowly as he continues typing, “alright.” 

“I’m sorry sir, for the term paper, I should have done better,” you offer up, electing to go ahead and fall on your own sword.

“There’s no need for apologies Ms. ___, a waste of time in this kind of situation. I would like to speak to you about your grades this semester though. After I graded your term paper, I reached out to some of my colleagues - some of your other professors - and they all had similar reports to give me, can we talk about that?”

You sigh, fanning out your fingers over your thighs, “Please, Professor, you mentioned a moment ago about time wasters - and I don’t want to waste anymore of your time - I’ve decided to drop out of law school.” 

The defeat you feel just saying the words out loud to someone is enough to bring tears back, but you fight them off. You will not cry in Professor Lee Minhos office. Absolutely not. 

Professor Lee purses his lips and nods, “I think that’s probably for the best.” 

Your jaw drops, “Aren’t you supposed to encourage me to do the opposite? To try harder or something?” 

“Miss ___, I fear if you tried any harder your hair might burn out from the roots,” he smiles and if you weren’t so shocked, you’d laugh at the first joke you’ve ever heard him utter. 

Before you can think of something to say, he produces a file folder from his drawers and smacks it on the table making you jump. 

“These are all the papers you’ve written for my class so far this semester. Your papers intrigue me Miss ___.” 

Intrigue? That’s a funny word to use for ‘disgusted and disappointed beyond imagination.’ 

“But you-,” you begin to point out that the highest grade he’s ever given you on a paper was a 68%. Far from intriguing. 

“But…as legal writing? They’re all absolute trash,” he tells you. “What intrigues me about them is the way you write, it’s quite good, every time I read one I feel like I’m in the room with a friend who’s trying to sort of explain law to me, the problem is you just don’t think, rationalize, or talk like a lawyer. I noticed in your transcript that your undergraduate degree was in education, and you had a 4.0 GPA. I can’t help but wonder, Miss ___, what career are you looking for?” 

“A…a lawyer,” you say in a quiet voice, staring at a knick on his desk. 

He looks skeptical as he leans back in his chair, “Why?” 

“Because…” oh fuck it all, you may as well just say it, “because my father, my mother, and my older brother are all lawyers, who went here.” 

“I see, so one could deduce that you wanted to be a lawyer because they wanted you to be one, they expected it of you?” he concludes. 

You smile comically, the truth is much more pathetic. 

“No, actually, they all told me I couldn’t do it. They told me I wasn’t smart enough, sharp enough, bold enough. I wanted to teach art to school children, but when that’s exactly what I elected to study, their comments started. I was just a private joke between the three of them, and I hated it, so I wanted to show them that I could be a lawyer.” 

“You came here to study law out of stubborn spite?” he reiterates. 

“Yes sir, I did,” you look at your lap and play with a rogue string from your sweater cuff. 

“That’s quite impressive, Miss ___, to go through all that trouble, strife, and money to do something you have no interest in just to best your family.” 

“Well when you say it like that I sound like a psycho,” you laugh timidly, trying to keep the sludge of humiliation down. 

“I don’t think you’re a psycho, I think you’re a bright woman who wanted to show her family they were wrong, but just ended up making herself miserable,” his expression is soft, almost understanding. “However, as your professor, I don’t think I could recommend continuing with law school. This is your first year, with first year level studies, and you’re struggling this much all for something you don’t even want, it will only get more difficult from here.” 

You nod, “You’re probably right sir,” you stand, “I should get to the admin office before they close for the break, I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you give him a respectful smile and grab your bag.

“Miss ___,” he motions for you to sit back down, “First of all, you’ve not wasted a single second of my time. Second, I don’t recommend dropping out right now, I think you should finish this semester at least.” 

“You just said…”

“I said I don’t think you should continue with law school, and I don’t. However, we’re past the official mid-point of the semester, the cut off to withdraw for a full refund of tuition was last week, if you go now you’ll never get that money back.” 

You plop back down in the chair, even more defeated, “I didn’t realize that,” you drag your hands down your face in frustration, “shit.”

Professor Lee chuckles, “I do have an alternative plan for you, if you’re willing to hear it and put in the work,” he offers. 

You sit up straight, “Yes, of course sir.” 

“I suggest you finish this semester, and I will help you - starting with rewriting your latest term paper. I’ll even try to assist you with some of your other courses, if you’d like. If we work diligently enough, you can finish this semester with an acceptable GPA, that keeps your academic record away from probation or academic expulsion,” he explains. 

“You would do that?” you ask in disbelief. 

“Well, of course, I am a professor after all. What sort would I be if I wasn’t willing to help my students?” 

“I don’t know what to say Professor,” you smile, “that’s too generous.” 

“It’s not a problem Miss ___. Now, let’s talk strategy, I assume you don’t plan on spending break with your family?” he guesses. 

“No sir, they’re too busy anyway, I plan on staying in my apartment off campus during the break,” you answer. 

“Splendid. This evening I have a night class to teach, but perhaps we could meet tomorrow? The library will be closed for break, but my students enjoy meeting up together at that coffee place downtown, uh, Coffee Shack or something,” he struggles. 

“The Coffee House?” you help him and try to hold back a grin.

“Yes, would you like to meet there, say, 1PM tomorrow afternoon? We can go over some of your papers together and I’ll help you with your legal writing technique,” he asks. 

“Yes, I’ll be there sir, I really can’t thank you enough, truly I appreciate this,” you tell him. 

“I look forward to it, Miss ___.” 

📖 ❤️

You adjust your backpack as you walk towards the Coffee House doors. You packed your laptop, all your text books, notes, and a few other things because you weren’t sure what Professor Lee would want to cover. The weight of it all is dragging you down and you have to hunch over a bit to balance it. 

“My goodness, here, let me get that for you Miss ___,” Professor Lee greets you at the door, he seems to have already picked a table near the front and grabs your bag with a grunt. “Did you pack your entire house?” he teases. 

“I didn’t know what you’d want me to bring, so I brought all my school things,” you laugh. 

“Well, I suppose it won’t matter that the library is closed since you brought it with you,” he chuckles and you take the seat beside him. 

“Should we start?” you open your laptop and power on. 

“I thought perhaps you’d like a beverage?”

“Oh,” you look behind you at the register, “Yes, I suppose we should caffeinate,” you smile. 

“What would you like?” He stands up and brings his wallet out. 

“Oh please sir, let me pay, it’s the least I could do for all of your help,” you beg. 

“Nonsense, as much as I love to argue Miss ___ I don’t see the point over a cup of coffee, what would you like? Are you hungry?” 

“No, I ate lunch before coming, just a latte for me, small,” you concede, “and thank you…again.” 

He smiles and departs from the table. You watch him in the line from where you sit. Seeing Professor Lee like this feels…different. In a less formal setting he’s almost approachable, and you’re starting to see things about him that you don’t in class. Like his generosity, and kindness, the man even has a sense of humor and you think of texting Seungmin about it but stop yourself. You want to keep this all a secret. You don’t want anyone knowing that you’re in such desperate need of assistance with your courses, but also you want to keep this side of Professor Lee to yourself. 

You could think of worse ways to spend your Saturday afternoon than with an attractive law professor who’s willing to help you pass your classes. You wonder if he’s aware that all his students find him so hot, or if it’s something that’s never occurred to him. He doesn’t wear a ring on any of his fingers, which tells you he isn’t married, but that doesn’t mean he’s single. You can’t imagine that he’s not seeing anyone. In class he’s usually got on some academia aesthetic looking suit on, lots of tweeds and browns - today he wears a fitted pair of jeans, and a navy sweater with a white collared button up fashioned underneath, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His jet black hair isn’t styled like it usually is in class, and hangs long and loose around his face. He looks like such a boyfriend…

You blush and go back to focusing on your laptop. What the hell was that? He’s your professor. Which is actually kind of enticing…

You press your lips together and roll your eyes at yourself. Stop with the intrusive sexual thoughts about Professor Lee - the man is trying to save your ass, not spank it - having inappropriate daydreams, no matter how justified they may be, is unacceptable. 

“Here we go,” he comes back to the table and sets two mugs on the surface as he takes his seat again. 

“Thanks,” you smile politely, trying not to look at him. If you don’t look at him, maybe you won’t think about how cute he is and instead focus on what you ought to be: your failing grades. 

“So, let’s start with the main issue of your papers. Writing, in the legal sense, is cut and dry. It’s all about facts, findings, and nothing expressive or personal, which is where you seem to have the most trouble,” he begins and you try to absorb the information instead of noticing the way his lips look while sipping his coffee. 

This endeavor may be harder for you than just pulling your grades up. 

📖 ❤️

“I think that was a very productive first meeting,” he says optimistically as you start piling things back into your backpack. 

“I think so too,” you nod. Productive, yes - but now the real work begins and you’ll have to go home and actually re-write the damned thing. 

Professor Lee carries your backpack out the door, “Where’s your car?” 

“Oh, it’s at home, I just live a few blocks away,” you point in the general direction of your apartment. 

“You mean to tell me you carried this while walking from your house?” he holds the backpack with two hands for dramatics and you giggle. 

“It’s not that terrible, how long has it been since you were carrying books around, Professor? Surely you remember the struggle,” you tease. 

“I suppose it’s been a bit, here,” he reaches in his pocket and the SUV beside you beeps, he opens the passenger door, “I’ll drive you home so you don’t have to endure the struggle.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that sir,” you shake your head. 

“It’s fine, it’s a small college town Miss ___, I can get literally anywhere in less than five minutes, especially since the majority of students are gone this week. Let me be chivalrous for you,” he smiles and you melt a little bit. 

“Well, if you insist,” you look up at him as you slide into the passenger seat. 

“I do,” he closes the door, then places your bag in the backseat before coming around to the drivers side. 

“Are you always this difficult, Miss ___? Or are you just trying to be overly polite because I’m your professor?” he asks when you point him down the street towards your apartment. 

“Difficult, sir?” you look at him wide-eyed. 

“Mmhmm,” he nods, “You didn’t want me to buy your coffee, you nearly refused my ride home electing to carry a small library on your back while you walk,” a look of panicked concern washes over his face and he looks over at you, “This isn’t making you uncomfortable in any way is it? Being alone with me?” 

“No! No, absolutely not,” you assure him, though you wager that your thoughts about him would certainly make him uncomfortable. “I’m just so incredibly grateful for your help, and you continue to go out of your way for me. It’s just never something I…” you stop yourself. 

“Never something you what?” he presses. 

You laugh awkwardly, “It’s just not ever something I expected from you, given your reputation with the other students.” 

“Ah, yes,” he sucks his teeth, “My reputation of being an uptight jerk who doesn’t like anyone.” 

“I would never use those words sir,” you tell him. 

“You might not, but I have the internet too, I’ve seen the threads about me on social medias,” he shares. 

“You read those?” your voice raises at least three octaves. 

“Of course, I’m only human, curiosity gets the best of me from time to time.” 

“I don’t participate in those conversations,” you shake your head, “I understand that it’s only natural for students to want to know about the personalities of their upcoming professors, but the bias that occurs in those threads is absurd.” 

“I agree, though sometimes they can be helpful, to my ego at least,” he laughs. 

“How so?” you wonder, because you don’t remember seeing anything about his classes online that would feed his ego. 

“Some of my students may not like my personality, but they like looking at me,” he grins. 

“Professor Lee! That’s scandalous,” you laugh and playfully smack his shoulder. 

“What?” he laughs with you, “I’ve got to take something positive from it! 75% of those comments are atrocious, but I’m quite proud that I scored three hot peppers on the professor hotness scale.”

“Oh my God,” you cover your mouth, “I cannot believe I’m sitting in your car having this conversation,” you giggle. 

“Is this your building?” he points. 

“Yes, it is.” 

He parks on the street and you take a deep breath when he exits the car. He knows his students think he’s hot, and now he knows that you know he knows. You pat yourself on the back for indicating you’ve never participated in those threads before the conversation took a turn towards hot peppers. Though you are 100% guilty of voting for his peppers. 

He opens your door, hanging your backpack across his shoulder. 

“I’ll walk this up for you,” he offers and you swallow hard. 

“Sure,” you smile, your heart pounding out of your chest. Professor Lee Minho is about to see the inside of your apartment. You try to recall the state you left the place in. You remember doing your dishes before you left, but that’s about the only productive thing you can remember doing today. 

You unlock your door and flip the lights on. Your art supplies are everywhere, and you have a bag of laundry by the door because you plan on hitting the laundromat this evening. In trying to move it out of the way you knock it over, a pair of your underwear spilling out onto the floor right at his feet as he walks through. 

“Jesus,” you mutter, humiliated, as he looks down at you grabbing up the black lace thong and shoving it back into the bag. 

To your utter relief, he says nothing about your undergarments. He sets your backpack down and looks around.

“Can I offer you anything to eat or drink?” 

“Did you do all these?” he walks forward into the room towards the area you dry your paintings in. Canvas after canvas sits up against the wall, some completed, most unfinished. 

“Oh, yes,” you say, walking up beside him, “This semester has been really frustrating for me, and painting helps.” 

“Well, they’re beautiful, truly - you’re quite talented,” he looks down at you, “I can see why teaching art is a passion for you, you’ve certainly got quite a knack for it.” 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

“Teaching is very rewarding,” he adds, “I think that you should pursue your original dream Miss ___. You’ve clearly got a lot to offer the world,” he smiles down at you and you catch his gaze, a few quiet seconds pass as you look into his dark eyes. 

“You could just call me by my first name, ___, if you wanted,” you say softly, “and um, thank you, for complimenting my art.” 

“You’re very welcome, ___,” he responds, staring at you again. You watch his eyes flit down to your lips and your heart speeds up again. He suddenly clears his throat and looks back at the paintings, “I think we should make the most of the week, since classes aren’t meeting, this is a perfect time for you to catch up with your studies. Tomorrow is Sunday, which is the day I typically devote to catching up on grading, and I do have midterm grades to enter. Perhaps Monday?” he asks. 

“Monday, yeah. That works, um, I have a shift at work on Monday morning, but I’ll be free after 3PM.” 

“Perfect, we could meet at the Coffee House again, around 4:30?” 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Great,” he begins walking back to the door, “and, um, while we’re together - working on your coursework I mean - feel free to call me Minho. However when classes resume, it’s probably best to address me as Professor Lee.” 

“Of course, Professor,” you agree. “Thank you, er…Minho…for everything today.” 

“You’re most welcome,” he opens the door then pauses, turning his head slightly in your direction, “Nice panties, by the way. See you Monday!” 

You stand there, speechless, staring at the closed door. 

📖 ❤️

Monday afternoon you can’t help but notice that Professor Lee - Minho - sits closer to you at the table in the coffee shop as he helps you study for one of your other classes. You don’t blame him, truth be told, you spent over an hour after your shift at the bookstore getting ready, hoping he’d look at you the same way he did Saturday. You are, without a doubt, down bad. To impress him even further you’ve got a surprise for him.

“I re-wrote my term paper,” you blurt as the two of you are clearing up the table after studying. 

“Already?” he looks at you. 

“I worked on it all night Saturday, and most of the day on Sunday. Do you want me to email it to you?” 

“Absolutely,” he smiles, “Good girl.” 

Fuck off, he did not just say that. You bite down on your lip and your thighs press together as you bring up your student email. You attach the file and send it to him. 

“It should be in your inbox the next time you check,” you say…like a good girl. Swoon. 

“Great, um, I was wondering - and just tell me to shut up if you want to - but I was wondering if you had plans this evening?” 

Your heart grows wings and begins to fucking fly. 

“No,” you shake your head, “I have zero plans for a Monday evening in a town that’s practically shut down.” 

He chuckles, “Right. So, would you want to join me for dinner maybe?” 

You at least pretend to mull it over instead of just shouting YES in some unflattering, desperate tone. 

“Where were you planning on eating?” you ask. 

“There’s a really nice place I like, it’s about a twenty minute drive out of town, but the food is impressive, never had a bad dish there,” he shares. 

“I am hungry,” you say, “I’d love to.” 

“Good, shall we?” 

📖 ❤️

“Are we celebrating anything special this evening?” the waiter asks as he sets two glasses of water down, “A first date? An anniversary perhaps?” 

“No.” 

Both of you answer him at the same time, and try to hold your laughter in when the poor man looks taken back. 

“Okay,” he says, “Can I get you all anything to drink from our wine or cocktail menu?” 

“I’ll have a glass of this pinot, chilled, please,” you point to the wine and the waiter writes it down. 

“I’ll have the same,” Minho smiles. 

“I’ll get those right out.” 

Minho bites his lip and stares down at the tablecloth, you frown. 

“Is everything alright?” you ask. 

“Everything’s fine,” he says, “I’m just trying to remind myself that nothing inappropriate is happening here, I’m having dinner with one of my female students, but you are an adult and so am I and it’s fine.” 

“I won’t be your student after this semester,” you point out, “I don’t know if that’s helpful or not though.” 

“It is,” he nods, then tilts his head, “yet somehow I still feel like I’m misbehaving.” 

“It’s only food, how is that misbehaving?” 

“It’s not what I’m doing,” he bites his lip again and looks up at you, “It’s what I’m thinking.” 

You take a sip of water, your body practically vibrating with curiosity, “What is it that you’re thinking, exactly?” 

“Things that I shouldn’t be thinking about my student,” he says quietly. 

“This isn’t high school, Professor, this isn’t even undergrad. Don’t be harsh on yourself, I’m sure whatever you’re thinking about isn’t a bad thing,” you point out, hoping you sound cool and collected and not like you’re ready for him to take you right on this table. 

“So if I was thinking about fucking you after class in my office, across my desk, that wouldn’t be a bad thing?” 

You nearly choke on your water. Before you can respond the waiter returns with your glasses of wine, not a moment too soon. 

“I’ll let you guys look over the menu and come back in a few minutes.” 

You clear your throat once the waiter is gone, “I think fucking me on your desk would probably be inappropriate,” you smile, “especially to your neighboring colleagues. I have quite a mouth on me,” you say, opening your menu. 

You can feel him staring at you. “I’d very much like to hear it.” 

“Maybe you will, I guess we’ll see,” you shrug. 

The smile that spreads across his face is so dangerously mischievous, your clit throbs where you sit and you shift uncomfortably, only making it worse. 

📖 ❤️

The sexual tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife as you make your way back to his car. You reach for the door handle, but he grabs your arm and spins you around, your back pushed up against the door. 

His lips crash against yours, arms caging you in which is completely fine by you. You bury your fingers in his hair on either side of his head but he pulls away. 

“I want it to be clear I have never had any kind of sexual relationship with a student, ever,” he says quickly, then his lips are against yours again. 

“I believe you,” you manage between lips and tongues. 

He pulls away again, “And the only reason I’m pursuing this is because I can’t fucking resist you and you’re not going to be my student again after this semester,” he adds, then more kissing. 

“Got it,” you mumble into his mouth. 

Again he pulls away, “Seriously, even if you don’t quit law school I can never have you in class again, okay?” 

“Yes! Fuck that place, I’m done, and even if I wasn’t - I wouldn’t take you again, you’re an uptight jerk of a professor, remember?” you tease him, then desperately pull him back onto your lips. 

He shoves you harder against the car, his knee coming between your legs and you press yourself down on his thigh. You moan softly into his mouth and his hand smacks the side of the car. 

“Get in, fuck, please get in the fucking car.” 

He scrambles around to the drivers side as you jump in. 

“Your place or mine?” he asks, turning the ignition. 

“Which is closer?” you ask, pulling the seat belt so hard and quick that it locks up. 

“Uh…mine… mine I think.” 

“Then there’s your answer,” you tell him. 

Five minutes of him burning rubber down the highway is too long for you not to be touching him. You reach over and caress his thigh through his jeans, moving higher and higher until you find what you’re looking for in the darkness. 

He hisses as you stroke and massage his hard length through the fabric. 

You unbuckle your seat belt, “Are you as good a driver as you are a professor?” 

“I…why?”

You scoot as far as you can and lean over, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, sliding your hand through the opening of his boxers until you feel the warm, velvety skin of his cock in your fist. 

“Oh fuck…oh my fucking…” he pants, his knuckles turning stark white around the steering wheel. 

You unbuckle his seatbelt as well and help him get it out of the way before pulling his cock from the confines of his jeans. 

You stroke him a few times, then let a glob of spit drip from your lips onto him so you can continue stroking more comfortably. 

“God…” 

You take him in your mouth and suck, running your tongue over the tip. The way he’s nearly whimpering, eyes so wide on the road, delights you. You put your mouth on him again, taking him deep in your throat, taking turns stroking and licking. 

“I’m going to cum,” he whispers hoarsely after several minutes, “I don’t have anything to…” he looks around frantically but you shake your head, popping your mouth off of him momentarily. 

“I can take it,” you whisper, then suck him between your lips once more. You can feel the base of his cock twitch and brace yourself, spurts of hot cum follow seconds later and you take it all from him greedily, swallowing then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Holy shit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That was so fucking hot.” 

“Thank you,” you grin, pulling down the visor so you can fix yourself in the mirror. The “kiss proof” lipstick you wore today is evidently not “road head proof” and you clean up the edges of your mouth. 

He reaches over and grabs your hand in his, squeezing and rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb while he speeds down the road. 

📖 ❤️

The door to Minhos apartment isn’t even locked before he shoves you against it and presses his mouth to yours. 

“I want to make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck. He drops to his knees and unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your legs. You kick your shoes off so he can get the pants off completely. 

He looks up at you and grins, tracing the lines of the black lace thong that toppled over at your apartment, “I was wishing very much that I’d get to see you in these,” he says, pressing his tongue against the tiny bit of cloth. 

You gasp at the way his lips move, teasing and licking through the thin lace, “Are you really going to eat me out against the door?” 

“Mmm,” he moans against your clit and your legs jerk, “Yes,” he says hooking his fingers in the strings and pulling the soaking wet cloth down your legs. 

“No patience at all Professor, I’m shocked,” you tease. 

“So… you can call me Minho,” he smiles, kissing and licking trails back up your legs, “but in class and when I’m fucking your pretty pussy feel free to use Professor.” 

“Absolutely Professor Lee,” you rest your head against the door as his tongue wiggles between your slick. “Fuck!” 

He finds your clit and wraps his lips around, gently sucking. You lay one of your thighs over his shoulder and try to steady yourself while he laps and sucks you off. You grab his hair with your fingers and move with him, fucking his face and listening to the delightful slurping, wet sounds erupting through the quiet room. 

“Oh…just like that, right there,” you whine when he begins to softly lick the perfect spot, “fuckfuckfuck…yes!” you release his hair from your fist and hold yourself against the wall as your legs begin to quake, cunt throbbing in rhythmic spasms as he milks you with his lips. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, trying to stand straight. He finally gets around to locking the door then picks you up, carrying you down a hallway. He pours you onto the bed and you watch as he strips himself of clothing, you follow suit, though half your outfit is in his foyer. 

You lay back, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him crawl over you, positioning himself between your legs. 

“You’re sure this is okay?” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, the head of his cock leaking against your open cunt. 

“Yes, fuck, yes I want you,” you assure him, nails digging into his shoulder. He makes a gruff noise deep in his throat and lines himself up with your opening. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push into you and he does, slow and deep. You both moan into each other at the sensation of it.  

Slowly he begins to move quicker, still deep, but urgently. The sound of skin against skin intoxicating. He sits up a bit, your hips coming with him and he grabs them, using you as an anchor to thrust into you. 

“Minho…” his name comes out as a whisper, your eyes screwed shut. “So close…” 

“No, no,” he tsks, slowing down and pulling himself out, pushing the head of his cock against your clit. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

He slides his cock against you until you start squirming beneath him, your clit still sensitive from his front door excursions. “Please? Fuck…” you whine loudly. 

“You want it?” he asks in a growl, stuffing himself inside you then pulling out again. 

“Yes! Yes! Please!” you cry, your nails scraping against the sides of his legs. 

“Are you sure baby?” he smirks, pushing into you and pulling out slowly several times. Your orgasm begins to build again and you meet his thrusts with your hips, chasing it. Until he pulls out again. 

“What are you doing?” you groan, half laughing and out of your mind. 

“Beg a little,” he urges, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock but pulling away every time you try to push against it. 

You snap your eyes open, the sight of him looking down at you makes you unhinged. “Please, Professor Lee, please let me cum,” you say it as sweetly and earnestly as you can muster. 

His eyes practically roll back in his head as he lines up with you again and pushes in deep, his hands fly back to your hips and he drags you on and off his cock until your vision goes white with the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. 

“Sit up, please,” he begs breathlessly as he pulls away, stroking himself. You do as you’re told and watch as his lips part, his hand stills and shots of pearly strings shoot across your breasts. 

“Hold on,” he says when he can move again, then disappears behind a door, emerging a few moments later with a warm damp hand towel. He kisses you deeply as he cleans his cum off your chest. 

“That was so fucking good,” you whisper, taking his face in your hands. 

“Yes,” he sighs, pulling you down beneath the blankets with him, “Yes it was.” 

He holds you close to him, your eyes getting heavier, “I think my books are still in your car. We could go over the paper on tort law I bombed over breakfast tomorrow?” 

He chuckles and nods, “It’s a date.” 

📖 ❤️

You sit in Professor Lees classroom as he passes back the latest exam. Term is almost over and everyone seems to be reeling with nerves around you. 

He slows beside your desk and lays your test down, “Much better, Miss ___, much better.” 

Seungmin looks over at your test, “Hey! Not bad,” he smiles cheerfully. 

“I’ve had a lot of help this semester,” you smile.

At the bottom of the last page you read the note of thin red ink,

See you at my place tonight?

The End

Endnote:

I am in my Lee Know slut era. I will not be taking questions about my worship of him at this time, thank you. As always, if you made it far enough to read this, please accept my virtual smooch.

Also as always this is unbeta’d bc that’s typically how I roll so it could be absolute trash but that’s okay bc we’re just having fun.

[dollfacefantasy]

hi! i just finished reading your most recent fic, (amazing btw 💕) and keep reflecting on the part where leon calls reader a little disappointing.. so i was wondering if you could write some angst with DI leon where he’s quite mean and degrading and saying how he’s disappointed and stuff with reader, yk! then leon lovingly fucks reader after as a way to say sorry? (daddy kink included) thank you <3

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon goes a little too hard on you one night during sex. upon realizing how much it hurt you, he knows he has to make it up somehow.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, daddy kink, praise/degradation, age gap (20s, early forties), mentions of spanking & not using safeword

word count: 5.2k

a/n: part 1 <3 took me a while to figure out how i wanted to do this but i hope you guys enjoy.

Something isn't right.

That's all you could think while watching Leon idly stir pasta sauce at the stove. You were perched nearby at the counter, observing him as if he was under experimentation. While to anyone else his actions would appear completely mundane, you knew that this gesture was only the first step in something larger. 

He never cooked you dinner. In the year and six weeks you'd been with him, he'd only ever made you a real meal twice before. Once being six weeks ago on your anniversary, and the other about four months before that, a couple days after you had a fight that nearly blew the wheels off your relationship.

In each case, there was a reason behind it. Whether to celebrate or make amends, neither was an innocuous decision made at random. You weren't even sure that Leon possessed the ability to be spontaneous, but that was a separate issue for another time. The obvious meaning behind his actions was the cause of the splashing of the noodles being poured into the boiling water making your stomach turn. 

Because today wasn't anything special. There wasn't a birthday or an achievement to make an occasion of. That meant it was the other option, the makeup option, and you were extra sure of this because the two of you hadn't exactly been the perfect picture of being in love lately.

"Honey, could you put these on the table for me?" he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

He looks at you over his shoulder to make sure you see the plates and silverware he's referring to.

"Yeah, sure," you respond.

You hop off the stool you were sitting on and grab the things he wanted you to. This was even worse. He wasn't going to let you eat in peace at the counter like you did when he wasn't here. No, he was going to stare you down across the dining table.

But you still do what he asks. Sighing, you haphazardly put a plate down on both ends of the table with silverware bordering each side to match. You grab glasses next and put them there too. Once everything is in its perfect place, you plop down at your seat, deciding to wait here until he joins you. This chair was out of view from the kitchen which meant you could get a few moments alone to brace yourself.

It's not that anything terrible was going to happen. It was just going to be a conversation. But it would be a relationship conversation, an emotional conversation, something neither of you were good at.

You weren't good at it because you'd never been good at it. Ever since you were a kid, the slightest spotlight put on your feelings had barbs forming in your throat and stinging, salty tears brimming your lash line. Everything had to be coaxed out of you, or you were sure to break down. 

Leon wasn't good at it because his version of a conversation came across more as an interrogation. When talking about feelings, he never wanted to talk about his own. He'd never share what was going on in his own head, he only wanted to know what was going on in yours. You were the one struggling; therefore, you were the one he needed to help. You were the mission to be resolved.

You supposed that was consistent with everything else about the man you loved. He always wanted to be the one in control, the one managing the details of your life. It came from the desire to protect. He showed his love by keeping you safe, keeping you from being like him. He went away for weeks on end following orders. When he came home, he liked to be the one doling them out.

And that was how you liked it too. You weren't some unwilling victim. When he offered to try this stuff out with you, you couldn't have been happier. You liked being told to do this and do it now. You liked the security of his lap, the promise that no matter how bad things got he would be there to wipe away your tears and make it all better.

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. You were pretty sure you knew what the specific topic of conversation would be tonight. You'd been distant lately. You could already hear his voice ringing through your head telling you that. For the past couple weeks, you hadn't been you. You hadn't been as sweet on him, kissing his cheeks and stroking his hair while you cuddled. Hadn't been hanging off his body or climbing all over him every chance you got. Hadn't been as eager to squeal daddy when he made you cum.

You knew why, and you knew he didn't. That was by design though. You didn't want him to know. This whole situation had spiraled so far out of control, and you just wanted to sweep your mess under the rug and forget about it. You didn't need daddy's help cleaning it up.

It shouldn't even be that big of a deal. Nothing that bad had happened.

The night that had your panties in a bunch happened a few weeks ago. You'd had a shitty day and so had Leon. You were looking to act out, and he was looking to punish.

You gave him some attitude. A few eye rolls and sharp responses when he asked you things. Looking back, you think maybe you should've sensed he was in a bad mood and just dropped it. That's when the other part of you chimes in and wonders why he couldn't do the same for you. Why couldn't he feel out your emotions and realize you needed him? But then you start to feel emotionally stunted, expecting your boyfriend to be a mind reader. 

This internal conversation never gets very far.

That night he hadn't read your mind. He'd taken you over his lap and given you a spanking. It was pretty standard. You'd had over a dozen of those by his hand at this point. The slaps weren't the problem. His palm hit you all the same, bringing the sting you craved. The part that stuck with you and created this wedge was just him. It was how he spoke, the way he looked at you. 

You could still see the eyes you fell in love with looking at you with nothing but disappointment.

You could still hear him growling in your ear when he had you bent in half and fucked you afterwards. He had you face down on the couch, holding your head against the cushion while he jackhammered into you.

"If you want my attention, all you have to do is ask. You know that. But you never fucking do it. You play these games with me. You think I wanna put up with that? You think I come home and wanna hear you bitching at me too?"

You weren't even sure what about it had got you. It was harsh, sure, but it was supposed to be.

"I want you to be a good girl. To behave. I don't want to deal with a bratty little slut."

He'd said stuff like that before. But in that moment it didn't feel like daddy was mad at you, it felt like your boyfriend was. It didn't feel like you were naughty or misbehaving. It felt like you were pathetic.

"You want daddy's attention so bad, next time you say please like you're supposed to. Don't make me go through the chore of disciplining your ass again. I'm over it."

By some miracle you still got to cum. He came inside you like normal. When he pulled out he'd fallen back onto the cushions of the couch to catch his breath. He lied there, fingers wiping the sweat from his brow as if he'd put in a hard day's work. You sat there unsure of what to do with yourself. After he'd come down a little more, he'd pulled you close, kissed all over your face like normal and taken to you to bed. But you'd laid there with your eyes open, trying not to cry as he snored against the back of your neck.

You're snapped out of your memories by the thud of the pot on the dining room table. Leon stood a few feet away from you, oven mitts on both hands as he placed the dish between your seats. He cracks a smile at you when you look up and meet his eyes.

"I made way too much. I hope you're hungry," he teases.

You respond with a weak grin of your own. Sitting up straight in your chair, you blink a few times and rub your face as if that'd be enough to clear away the past and magically fix everything.

Two of his fingers duck below your chin and guide you to look at him again.

"You ok?" he asks. His voice is tender like it is most of the time when he speaks to you.

"Yeah. I'm just tired," you tell him with a more convincing smile. You're not sure if it works, but he seems to accept it for now.

"Alright," he says, leaning down and kissing the corner of your mouth.

He takes his seat across the table, opposite yours. You get the privilege of serving your portion first. You shovel a helping of pasta onto your plate. The red sauce spreads on your plate, and you grab a piece of toast to soak some of it up. Leon repeats your actions and gets some of the food for himself. He had made too much. You'd definitely have leftovers, but that was nothing to complain about. He made dinner before these conversations for a reason. Like anything else, he was a good cook when he wanted to be.

The meal starts off silent as you had expected it to. You both eat instead of trying to talk. Forks hitting plates and bread crunching into two fills the room in the place of words. A sense of calm comes over you, but you know it won't last forever. Eventually, Leon does break the silence with some basic questions. How was your day, wasn't this summer heat killer, did you see he fixed that thing in the garage you'd asked him to. It's fine. Just fine like everything had been for the past couple weeks.

The conversation reaches another lull though, and this is when he goes for the killing strike.

"Baby, I think we need to talk," he sighs.

You raise your eyebrows as if you hadn't been expecting this.

"About what?" you ask after swallowing your mouthful of pasta.

Now he raises his eyebrows. He's not disappointed, but he knows you're playing dumb and doesn't appreciate it. It's affectionate though. It doesn't look like it did a few weeks ago.

"I know something's bothering you," he tries softly.

"I told you I was tired," you shrug and look away.

"It's not just today though. It's been more than a few days," he says.

You sigh and put your fork down. You're conscious of every part of your reaction in an effort to avoid looking pouty or melting into tears.

"I don't know. The past few weeks I just haven't felt great. It's not like a crisis situation or something," you say.

"Then tell me about it, sweetheart," he says, trying to will you to look up at him with his gentle tone, "I want to help, but I don't know what's wrong. Every time I try, you pull away."

"Not on purpose," you add. It's an important defense to you.

"I'm not saying it's on purpose," he says. You can tell he's trying to be as non-confrontational as possible. Maybe he does pick up on your emotions a little bit. "All I'm saying is that I'm worried about you."

And with one little sentence, you feel the spikes starting to poke through. You look down and place your palm on your eyes. You felt ten times more pathetic than you had a few weeks ago. He can see you're getting closer to breaking, so he continues.

"You can talk to me. If you need something or I did something, I just want to make it better," he continues, "I don't like not knowing what's going on in that pretty head. I like it even less seeing you look so sad."

Your lip wobbles. A last resort to hold in the barrage of emotions. "It's nothing," you choke out.

"It's not nothing if it has you this upset," he counters, speaking quietly, "Just talk to me, little love."

That's all it takes, and you can't hold it anymore. Tears leak from your water line and draw limpid streaks down your face. You bite your lip to nip any audible cries in the bud. It doesn't matter though, he still sees the small droplets of water.

"My baby," he coos, "C'mere."

You rise to your feet in an instant and round the table. He pushes his chair back and takes you into his lap. You're cradled by his warmth, safe against his chest as he rubs your back. As much as you loved mentally complaining about his interrogations, maybe this is what you needed. Maybe this worked for you.

"You're ok. I'm right here," he murmurs. 

He kisses your hairline and cups the back of your neck to keep you close. He lets you cry it out before attempting any more questions. Once it seems you've settled though, the spotlight is back on you.

"What's wrong, sunshine?" he whispers.

Try as he might, you still couldn't bring yourself to say the words. It was like two wires in your brain that just did not physically connect. Expressing pain was hard enough, but expressing pain that he caused? This inability killed you, it really did. Thinking about it brings another sob from your lips. You wanted to beat your own ass till she had enough of a spine to just say a few simple words so this could all be over.

You can't do that though, so Leon continues on with his tender questions.

"Can you tell me when you started feeling this way?" he asks with a hint of hesitation.

There that was one you could answer. "Few weeks ago."

He nods, taking any information he could get as crucial.

"Alright... is there something stressing you out?" he asks.

You shake your head. Technically there was something stressing you out, but while you were breaking down, 'stressing out' was code for responsibilities, so the answer is no.

"Problems with your friends?"

Another head shake.

"Family?"

No.

"...Me?"

You almost shake your head again. You could swing just making something up on the spot. But that wouldn't be right to him. He'd done the work of the guessing game and come to the conclusion fair and square. You nod yes.

A whirlpool of emotion forms in his pupils, but it's almost like he knew he was to blame. He nods and sighs. His hand doesn't stop rubbing your back.

"Ok," he breathes, "You gotta give me a hint, honey."

You found words coming a bit easier now that he had led you this far.

"Remember a few weeks ago when you got mad at me?" you rasp and look at him with your watery eyes.

He blinks at you. "We got into a fight a few weeks ago?" he asks. 

There's genuine confusion in his tone. He didn't remember. Or at least this day didn't stick out in his mind. He hadn't been dwelling on it since it happened, hadn't been wondering if it meant something greater in the context of your relationship. You weren't sure if that brought you relief or frustration.

"No. It was like... it was when I had a bad day and I came home and you were watching that stupid cop show. And I kept talking. And you told me to shut up. And I said you were only watching it cause you didn't know how to change the channel," you list off some of the events that led to the infamous incident.

He smiles upon remembering that little joke. He found it funny. Then why did he get so mean?

"Don't tell me you've been mad cause I wouldn't let you watch your show instead," he teases.

"No, it's not that. Remember after when you spanked me? And then we fucked on the couch..." you sniffle.

He pauses to think about your words. The gears turn in his head, the pieces fall into place. The lightbulb goes off in his eyes.

"Oh yeah. I remember that," he says. He remembers, but he doesn't understand. "What about it?"

His thumb swipes a few tears away while waiting for the answer you were still trying to formulate.

"Well... like... I don't know," you start. You felt ridiculous verbalizing it. "You just kinda hurt my feelings."

His brows furrow. He still doesn't get it.

"Hurt your feelings?" he repeats, "I didn't hit you too hard, did I? You know if that ever happens you have the word. You say it, and I stop for you in a heartbeat. You know that."

"It didn't hurt like that... it's just some of the stuff you said," you say. The urge to pull away is starting to come back.

"Sweetheart," he says. His voice is dripping with concern. He didn't remember saying anything bad enough that you'd still be twisted into knots over it multiple weeks later. "You know you can use the word for that kind of thing too. Please tell me you know that."

"I know that," you start, feeling a little ashamed. This was exactly why you didn't want to talk about this.

"If I say something that hurts you this bad, you need to tell me. Right when I say it. You tell me to stop. You let me remind you it's not real," he says, quiet but firm. He holds you tighter, unintentionally squeezing more tears out of you. "I only say things I think will get you off. I don't say them to hurt you."

You hide your face in his neck. You felt so fucking pathetic.

"Hey, hey, hey. Shhh. It's ok. I just... I want you to understand, baby," he murmurs. He rocks you back and forth on his lap a bit before speaking again. "Can you tell me why you didn't use the word?"

Leon prayed with everything he had that it wasn't because you were scared of him. If that was it, you might as well pick up the fork off the table and jam it right into his heart. You don't answer, and it worries him. All he gets from you is the feeling of tears dribbling down his throat.

"Did it not hurt till afterwards? Did you think I wouldn't stop?" he coaxes.

You shake your head. "Cause... because I don't want you to think I can't take it," you weep.

While he's relieved it's not what he feared, he didn't expect this.

"What do you mean? You can't take it?" he repeats.

"I don't want you to think I'm a bratty little girl. I told you that stuff was ok, and I don't wanna tap out and make you feel all guilty and stuff," you cry, the words rushing from your mouth.

He sighs and his eyes close for a second. He did feel like a piece of shit now, but with what you just said, he didn't want you knowing that.

"My sweet girl," he says against your head while rubbing your back, "I would never think that about you. The word is there for you to use it whenever you want. It doesn't matter if it makes me worry I hurt you. That's not a bad thing."

You cry more into his neck, clinging to him as if you're trying to merge into one.

"I just don't wanna disappoint you," you sob.

"Baby, baby, baby," he whispers, holding you tight against his chest and rocking you again, "You never disappoint me. You don't. Not when you act bratty, not when you break a rule. That shit is all a game. It's a game, and if you don't like it, we don't have to play it.

"I know you're sensitive. I know you get emotional. I'm with you knowing that stuff. It doesn't make me think of you as an obligation. I like being daddy, but it doesn't make me think of you like that. If it makes you feel like that, we can stop. You're more important than any of it."

"I do like it," you weep, "I just... I don't want you to think I'm pathetic."

"I don't think that. I never have," he says and kisses your temple, "You're my baby. My pretty girl. My favorite person on this planet."

You sniffle and snake your arms around him tighter.

"Pathetic or disappointment never cross my mind when I look at you. Half the time I don't even have thoughts when I see you. You're so fucking gorgeous you take 'em all away," he whispers.

He nudges your head out of the crook of his neck so he can see you. His lips land on your forehead first. Then your nose. Then each cheek. And finally your lips.

"Look at me," he whispers.

You do what he asks and look up at him. You look into his eyes. These were the eyes you fell in love with.

"You are not a disappointment," he says before a kiss, "You are not pathetic. I love you. I love you when you're being good or when you're being a little shit. I love when you wanna call me daddy, but you'd still be mine if you decided you never wanted to say that word again."

"I still wanna call you daddy," you sniffle and give him a small smile.

He chuckles and returns the expression. "That was a quick decision," he teases, "Doesn't sound like you thought it through."

"I did. I still want my daddy," you say and put your head down on his shoulder.

"Good. Cause I'm right here," he says softly, "Daddy's got you."

The problem wasn't totally resolved in Leon's mind. Never again did he want to cause you weeks worth of stress over something like this. But for now, he was happy to see you smile. He could accept this temporary fix. He nuzzles your neck and places a few soft kisses on your throat.

"I think daddy needs to make it up to his baby for being so mean to her. For making her cry like that," he whispers.

A warm tingle branches out through your spine and curves around your ribs. You scoot closer to him in his lap and shrug, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Don't give me that shrug. You know you like being spoiled. Being the center of attention," he whispers.

"Yeah..." you whisper in his ear.

He grunts as he rises to his feet with you in his arms. Your legs lock around his waist before his feet even start moving. He'd clean up the table later. Right now was about you.

He carries you through the house, tosses you onto the bed. You squeak at your glide through the air. He pulls his shirt off and drops his pants before climbing on top of you. Always efficient your Leon.

The warm lengths of his muscular limbs encompass you against the mattress. He starts by kissing you on the mouth, but his lips soon trail down to your neck. Tongue and teeth brush over the balmy skin of your neck. He nips a few hickeys along the curve of your throat, listening for every little hitch in your breath or stifled moan.

"Always with those pretty little noises..." he mumbles against your skin.

He inhales you before moving away, gets his fix of your scent before his hands push your shirt over your head and toss to the floor with his. His hands rub up and down your side, gently squeezing and massaging while his mouth migrates towards your chest. He lays kisses at the tops of your breasts. He can feel your heart pattering against his lips. It drives him crazy, feeling what he does to you down to that level.

Your legs wrap around his waist and pull his body closer. You couldn't get close enough after the weeks of distance. He groans as his crotch comes flush against yours. It's as if he can feel the heat of your center through the layers of cloth that separate you.

He kisses between your breasts, forcing himself to remove your bra before he thinks about your pants. He nuzzles the two spheres of flesh with all the care he holds in his body. He'd never been good with words, and the last few weeks proved as much. Showing you physically how he feels is easier.

"Haven't been able to kiss my girls properly in too long," he murmurs and glances up at you, cocky smile in his eyes.

"You're stupid," you laugh quietly.

"Hey. That's not a nice word, princess. Not one you should be calling your daddy," he chides before giving one of your nipples a few sucks.

You sigh contently and arch into the wet embrace of his mouth. "Sorry daddy," you smile.

"I'm sure you are."

He gives your tits some more attention, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't antsy to get his fingers wet. They fumble with the button on your shorts before he lifts your legs and practically tears the garment loose. He kisses your ankle and down your calf to your knee where his hands take over and press them up against your torso. He can feel your slick creating a wet patch on the front of his boxers and ruts into it. His cock grows stiffer beneath the fabric as if trying to get to you.

"You ready for me, babydoll? Dripping like a good girl? Gonna be nice and easy for daddy to slide right in," he says while leaning down to be close to you.

You nod eagerly, your nose bumping against his.

"Nothing makes it better than having daddy inside, hm?" he coos.

"Don't need anything else," you say and sling your arms around his neck.

That's all he needs to hear. He pushes his underwear down his legs enough so that his cock is free. You feel it slot between your puffy outer folds and prod at your entrance.

He slips it inside, and you both groan. Your head tilts back, allowing him to kiss at your neck some more. You'd had sex since that fight, but this was the first time you were feeling full. The first time you were feeling like his again.

"Daddy," you whine and grab at him. Just what he'd been missing.

His hips start to rock. The bones in his pelvis press right up against your ass. He fucks you deep and slow at first. Each thrust glides over a myriad of sweet spots. Every time he pulls back, you just want him to push right back in.

"That's it, honey. Tell daddy how much you missed him," he grunts.

You don't say it with words. You tighten up around him, squeezing his dick like if it gets out you'll die. The sensation wrangles a moan out of him, and his face drops into your neck. He digs his forearms into the mattress and uses the leverage to pump himself into you harder.

"My perfect, perfect girl. Don't know what I'd do without you," he whispers.

Your eyes flutter shut. You just listen to the sound of his panting, feel his heart beating for you. Your thighs tremble while pressing into his waist. Your toes curl as his hips strike the right angle to batter right where you need him.

"You could never disappoint me," he mutters. You feel his lips moving against your throat. "I love you, sweet girl. Nothing you do could ever change that."

The words are almost enough to make you get all weepy again, but you'd cried enough for one day. Instead your body latches onto him tighter.

"Harder," you whimper.

"You sure, baby?" he hums.

Your nod comes quickly. "Need to feel it more. Need it harder."

So he gives it to you harder. His eyes clamp shut and shroud his vision in darkness. He focuses on thrusting hard, clapping his skin against yours over and over. He pounds into you while pressing his face harder against you too.

You show your gratitude with a whine. His shaft hits just right, fills you up just the way you'd been aching for.

"Almost there, daddy- Can I-" you stumble over words.

"Yeah, sweetheart. You don't gotta ask tonight. You cum when you're ready," he says.

That's how you know he's really sorry. He keeps fucking into you until he feels your limbs fizzling from the proximity to release. Everything about you gets shaky. Your breaths are ragged and labored, your hands vibrate while trying to clutch at him.

"Fuck fuck fuck," you whimper.

The spark goes off inside you, and you cum hard. Your body goes taut and rolls through the waves of euphoria. He can't resist your walls pulsating around him. It's only a handful of seconds before his tummy is fluttering and his seed is spilling from him into your cunt.

"Inside, daddy," you whine as if he needed the direction.

"That's what I'm doing, baby," he grunts through clenched teeth.

He drools against your neck while his hips twitch and the last few drops leak from him. The saliva gets smeared in the messy kisses he leaves on you while pulling out. He rolls over but scoops you up with him, cradling you against his chest in a position that isn't necessarily comfortable but you love anyway.

A series of over the top kisses land on your face. You scrunch your nose and shake your head.

"Quit it. I already forgave you," you giggle, "You don't gotta slobber on me."

"Tsk tsk. Ungrateful," he tuts affectionately, "You know if I didn't give you these, you'd be begging for 'em."

"Mmm... maybe," you acquiesce with a little smile.

"Sure, sure. Maybe. Silly girl," he mumbles and nuzzles your cheek.

The playful touches continues for a moment before he calms down and softens up. You look towards his eyes, and his fingers sweep down your cheek.

"You're ok now?" he asks.

You nod. "We're ok now."

To give him the final shred of reassurance that you could, you stick out your pinky. He rolls his eyes, but sticks his out to and hooks it with yours. He knew you were back to yourself since your inability to be serious had made a reappearance. He smacks a kiss on your lips to seal the deal. He can feel you smiling into it.

[killerlookz]

hiii!!<3 if you’re thinking abt writing for joost, can u pls write some thing abt an established relationship fic based off the song birds of a feather by billie eilish if u can! love ur writing!

Hi anon! thank you sm for the request <33 this song is so sweeeet omg!!! also... technically an established relationship, but i do recap how reader and joost met :-)

Birds of a Feather | Joost Klein

description: gn!reader reflects on all the special moments in your and Joost's relationship following an unexpected proposal.

content: so insanely cheesey! sorry! pure fluff! + lots of crying (mostly happy tears) literally the most tiny smallest sexual reference this fic contains rpf, do not continue if that makes you uncomfortable

word count: 2426 (this was supposed to be under 1k words but i got soooo carried away)

/I don't know what I'm crying for / I don't think I could love you more/

Shaky fingers fiddle with the cold metal looped around your ring finger. Your hand flexes outward, watching as the light from your window reflects onto the small stone. Something warm rolls down your cheek- a solitary teardrop, caressing the skin of your face. Your hand reaches up to wipe away the tear, but it's too late, you can feel more welling up near your waterline, any sudden movement now would send tears streaming down your face. You look up, your eyelids brink rapidly in an attempt to prevent the inevitable waterworks.

You hadn't seen an engagement coming- in all the years you'd been together, it still seemed like a milestone that had felt so far away. Until Yesterday.

You and Joost had been nearly inseparable since just about the moment you had met- A nervous 20-year-old studying abroad in the Netherlands for your second to last semester of university. You sat on the stairs outside of the apartment building that stood as your temporary housing for the semester, on the brink of tears, your randomly assigned roommate had been a real piece of work. You were on your third argument that week alone, and, saying you were fed up was an understatement. You contemplated at that moment packing your things and just going back home.

"Gaat het?" (Are you ok?) A voice calls out, a goofy-looking blonde standing at the bottom of the stairs. He looks vaguely familiar, you think you may have seen him in the elevator of your apartment once or twice.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, "Ik spreek niet veel Nederlands," Using one of the few Dutch phrases you knew to tell him you don't speak Dutch. You shake your head, kind of hoping he would get lost, not wanting to be bothered.

"Ah," He nods, "Do you speak English?"

You stare at him for a moment, unsure if you should lie, after all he was a stranger but something is telling you to tell him the truth.

"Yeah," You sniffle, attempting to remove any emotion from your face.

"Are you okay?" He asks again, this time you understand.

"I'm fine," You weren't exactly searching for a deep conversation about your current struggles in someone you didn't know.

"People who are fine don't usually sit outside their apartment building crying."

You bite your lip, contemplating engaging the kind stranger in what was ailing you at the moment. You sigh, having a feeling he would probably keep pestering you if you continued to insist you were feeling in a way you actually weren't.

"It's just my roommate-"

Two months after your first encounter with the blonde man at the bottom of the stairs, you were standing in front of a mirror, doing a final check of your outfit before going on your first date. You had learned his name was Joost, he was 21, and lived in an apartment two floors above you.

He was unimaginably kind, with a wit unparalleled by anyone you'd ever met before, and truthfully, he was very cute- so when he had initially asked you out, you couldn't get a "yes" out fast enough.

It seemed a little inconvenient, given that you only had one more month left in the Netherlands- but he knew this, and didn't necessarily seem like he had been looking for anything too serious. Besides, it would be nice for you to have a good connection with someone outside of the people you saw in your classes.

There's a knock at the door, and your feet are quick to start shuffling under you, you're practically running to go open it.

You stop for a moment as you get to the door, letting a deep breath fill your lungs to capacity, before letting it out, whipping the door open as you do so.

Joost is standing behind it, a smile plastered on his face, hands behind his back. He's dressed up, now that you thought about it, you never really saw him in anything other than a sweatshirt or t-shirt and some jeans. It was a pleasant change- a white button-up shirt and some dress pants even if both articles of clothing had been obviously wrinkled.

"Hey," He greets, removing his hands from where they rest behind him, revealing a bouquet of flowers in an outstretched arm, "These are for you- I didn't know what kind of flowers you liked so I sort of just guessed." He's unsure of himself, in an entirely endearing way. He was trying.

"For me?" You grin, "Aww, Joost!" You take the flowers from his hands, "Let me go find something to put these in."

A month later you're sitting on Joost's couch after what you assumed would be your last date together. Your study abroad program was ending in three days, and you'd be returning back home.

There is an air of sadness that surrounds you, one that you hadn't expected to feel- you'd only known the man for three months, yet somehow it felt like you were leaving someone you had known your whole life.

Gentle fingers grab onto your jaw, Joost is turning your head to force you to look at him.

"You know," He starts, "I've really been enjoying our time together."

"Me too," You agree, a small smile peaking onto your face, you try not to give way to the sadness you were feeling.

"And," He says, "Y/n, I really like you, and I think if I don't ask you now, I'm never going to get the chance to ever again."

"What?" You perk up, your heart suddenly beating much faster, your breathing quickens, unsure of what he's going to say next.

"Well- I- what I'm trying to say is, do you want to go out with me? Like- officially- like dating." His voice is trembling, you'd never seen him so anxious before.

"Joost I-" You sigh, the reality of your situation crashing into you harder than it had before, "I'm leaving soon- we'll be hours away, when am I going to see y-"

You're cut off by Joost's lips crashing into yours, your thoughts suddenly disappearing the second your lips connect. You're entirely overwhelmed with emotion, every wire in your brain is fried, this move was an utter surprise, up until this point your relationship had been entirely chaste; the furthest you'd gone was sharing a hug at the end of your dates. Still, you kiss him back, your hand finding its way to his shoulder, tugging at it, begging him to come closer to you.

It had been seven and a half months since you had last seen Joost, but the two of you had talked at length each and every day during that time. By now, you had finished your degree in University and were ready to really start your life.

You could remember the cheer of excitement on the other end of the phone when you told Joost after a month of job hunting you had secured a job in the Netherlands.

"Does that mean you're coming back here?"

"Yeah, the job starts at the end of next month ."

A month and a half didn't necessarily give you much time to plan things out to the extent you would have liked, but Joost was more than ready and willing to help you out.

He had posited moving into his apartment- but the suggestion while sweet- was quickly thrown out. It wouldn't have been an ideal commute to your new job.

So the two of you got on to looking elsewhere, he had been kind enough to take the time out of his days to go to apartment showings for you near where you'd be taking your job, keeping you on Facetime as he viewed the places.

Eventually, you had found one you absolutely fell in love with, in perfect distance from the job. The problem had been- it was quite a ways out of your budget. You were heartbroken, it had basically been your dream apartment.

Joost, always swift with solving problems, suggested that the two of you move into the apartment together, that way he could cover the rest of the rent that you couldn't afford. And while you were over the moon about his offer- you worried about what living together would do to your relationship, the two of you had known each other for less than a year- would living together be such a great idea?

But as you're standing in the doorway of your bedroom on the first night being in your new apartment, staring up at Joost, who's leaning against the door frame- you just know you made the right decision.

A careful hand glides across your cheek, resting at the back of your neck,

"Thank you for coming back," Joost muses, gently massaging the spot where his hand resides. You lean into his touch,

"There was no other option" There's an undeniable twinkle in your eyes, admiring the man who stood above you, tired and messy from a long day of moving.

"I've been waiting to tell you this in person," His grip on your neck suddenly becomes still, rigid, "And- even if you don't feel the same yet, I just wanted to say that I love you." He's talking fast, simpering after he finishes his short words before resuming the gentle massaging motion of his thumb against your neck.

The breath is almost entirely knocked out of you- he loves you.

The words just about run out of your mouth, "I love you too,"

"You do?" His pupils are blown wide, "You love me too?"

You nod fervently, never having meant a statement so immensely in your life.

Joost is leaning down now, his head tilted so his lips can perfectly interlock with yours. It is possibly the hungriest kiss the two of you had ever shared, with the obvious implication of love now behind it. If Joost hadn't snaked his free arm around your back, you probably would have fallen straight to the ground, your legs tingling with excitement.

He pulls away, looking into your mostly empty bedroom, a smirk appearing on his face,

"What do you say we christen that bed I spent all day putting together?"

Five years later you're still living in that same apartment, the once-empty space now fully decorated with beautiful memories.

And now, the most crystal-clear memory sparkled in your brain, almost as bright as the ring itself. You'd been crying in intervals since then- since it happened since - You replayed it in your head.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Joost's fingers interlock with yours as the two of you walk down a familiar street- You were unsure of why Joost had insisted on taking you here, to the town where you both had lived when you met.

"How could I ever forget?" You grin, "Feels like just yesterday I was crying to some strange Dutch boy about my roommate issues."

"And how you told me, you never wanted to see the Netherlands again?" His words are slow as he looks deeply into your eyes, glimmers of adoration shining from every feature on his face.

"God, I was so dramatic- wasn't I?" You look away from him, scoffing as you look down at the pavement, thinking about your old self, looking back on it- it was a stupid decision to let one person ruin almost two months of your life, but back then it seemed like the biggest deal in the world. "Funny" You shrug, "The decision I made to talk to you on the day I was most certain I was just going to pack up and leave forever led me to making the Netherlands my home." You shake your head, "I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't met you on that day, but I don't think there's a reality that exists where we aren't together."

"Don't make me cry," He chuckles.

"I mean- I don't mean to be all sappy, but it's true- if soulmates are real, I can guarantee you're mine."

He's grinning now, you'd been so lost in your thoughts you barely noticed where the two of you had ended up, back at your old apartment, right in front of those very steps the two of you had met on.

He's pulling you up the stairs, and needless to say you're confused about this trip down memory lane.

"I think it's only appropriate that I do this here," His voice is low, and he's blinking more rapidly than usual. His hand slips from yours, and falls into his pocket- you watch anxiously for his next move. There's something in his hand now, and he's slowly bending down onto one knee.

The tears start nearly immediately, before he says a single word, you're cupping your mouth with your hand

"Y/n," He looks up at you, through the lenses of his glasses you can see there are tears in his eyes too, "Wil je met me trouwen?" (will you marry me)

"Joost," You choke out a sob- "Yes, Yes!" Your whole body is full of a tingling sensation, and your heart feels like it occupies more space in your chest than it did before, swelling with an overwhelming amount of love.

Joost grabs your trembling hand, caressing it tenderly with his thumb before slipping on the ring. You let him hold your hand for a moment more before you're pulling it away, desperate to see. You outstretch your hand in front of you, looking at the glimmering stone that sits on your finger. A visual confirmation of what had just happened.

He's barely stood all the way up before you're reaching for him, knocking into him with an embrace so energetically that it nearly knocks him over. As he catches his balance he wraps his arms right back around you, pulling you into him.

If you were to have gotten any closer, the atoms that make up each of your bodies may have actually fused together. Though you wish you could, despite how you fully braced Joost's body it doesn't feel like enough you want him closer to you.

Still, you're so warm in his tight embrace, letting out choked tears of joy against his chest.

A gentle kiss falls on the top of your head, followed by your favorite words to hear out of Joost's mouth, "Ik hou van jou." (I love you)

You shut your eyes, basking in the moment, you could absolutely get used to hearing those words every day for the rest of your life.

/I'll love you 'til the day that I die / 'Til the light leaves my eyes/

[loveandleases]

(So here it is, Cam's birthday post! This takes place when Cam and MC are teens. I struggled to decide when to set it and what scenario to go with but I think this is a good middle.)

Cam flops back on the bed, the phone pressed tightly against his ear as he listens to the familiar ringing. Waiting for the other side to pick up. To hear that familiar voice say his name, something that causes him such joy he was sure it would be deemed unhealthy by others. If he was being honest, he knew that how tight he tries to cling to you isn't the healthiest thing.

What feels like twenty minutes of waiting is more like two, but each second that passes by makes his insides tighten. A part of him always wondered if there would be a time when you would stop answering his calls. Would you tire of him like his family? Would Chris fill your head with so many lies you couldn't bear to even look at him?

Eventually, the phone clicks and his breath catches for the briefest moment until he hears you. "Birthday boy."

"Red," Cam whispers, though he isn't sure why. He's alone in his room at his parents. In a house of a family that treats him more like a stranger. A house he has been stuck coming back to for the past two months thanks to some power trip from his dad. Though he knew he would be escaping it soon, running away from home could practically qualify as a hobby for him.

"Didn't I tell you I would call first." you chided. He knew you meant well, it was a tradition. One would call the other on their birthday, even if the two of you would see each other soon, you still made sure to call. But something about this night had forced him to call you, to hear your voice, to recognize his existence.

"C'mon, you can forgive me this once."

"Aww, do you miss me?" You coo, your tone teasing.

"Course I do. It's been two months Red. That's the longest we've gone without seeing each other since we met. Not to mention, this will be the first time since we were kids that I won't see you on my birthday."

You both grew quiet, neither thinking to fill the void of silence between you, not until a snap of a twig caught Cam's attention. Pulling his whirling thoughts to his open window. Cam sits up, evening out his breathing to better listen. Probably just an animal. "So what did you-"

The sound of rustling near his window causes him to pause, body filled with tension. He's not afraid, why would he possibly be afraid of the idea of someone climbing into his window and possibly slicing his- Alright, take it easy on the horror movies Cam, you're being silly.

A gentle tap on the glass of the window is what eventually pulls him from his thoughts, he slowly makes his way over, each step quieter than the one before until he faces it. Cam leans out, hoping to see what's causing so much noise. Once he does he freezes, what's the old saying, like a deer in the headlights.

"R-"

"Surprise!" You whisper shout, dangerously perched on a tree limb.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Cam reaches for you, hands grasping and pulling you in. You both tumble to the floor your limbs tangled together.

Cam freezes, your faces so close together that you can feel his warm breath ghost your cheeks. "S..sorry. Still, what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't miss your birthday." you grin at him, ignoring the smudges of dirt on your face caused by climbing. It causes Cam to laugh, the first real laugh he's had in months. Not one crafted to soothe his mother's ego when something she says falls flat. A laugh that is not pointed at him when Chris tells a joke and Cam is the butt of it.

He cradles you as if you're his lifeline as if you're the very person that could make being in this cold house worth it because to him you are.

"Hope you don't mind, the only present I bought was myself."

Cam takes a deep breath, wiping away an invisible tear. "I guess it will just have to do." he teases.

With a playful shove, you sit up, pulling your warmth with you. The warmth that Cam tries to grasp with his hand but instead finds the corner of your shirt sleeve. "Promise me something," you whisper, eyes roaming around the room. Compared to that of his siblings the room is bare in comparison. A small bed, a shelf here or there, the walls bare of any coverings.

"Hm?"

"Promise me we'll never miss each other's birthday." at first you think he doesn't hear you. Not with how quiet he gets as he sits up his eyes never leaving you.

Cam sticks his hand out, pinky raised waiting to link with another. "Pinky promise." You suppose this was another tradition, something so simple yet so meaningful to the two of you.

Your fingers curl around one another and Cam winks, pulling your hand up to place a soft kiss. "I missed you." he mumbles.

"Likewise. But more importantly." you turn, hands clasped on the top of your knees clearing your throat as if the next thing you're about to say was of utmost importance. "Cameron Clarke, my best-friend, my ride or die. The Robin to my Batman." "Hey! I'm clearly Bat-" he interjects. "The mint to my chocolate, the peanut butter to my jelly" you take a deep breath, because the next words are going to be embarrassing. "My other half, and my soulmate." His eyes widen, what blush he had hoped wasn't showing before is far too hard to deny now. His pale freckled skin turned rosy, a better look if you had to admit it. Cam Clarke flustered was always a sight to behold because not many could do it. "Happy birthday."

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒕!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. fluffy, happy ending, unprotected sex, soft sex, lots of smut, feelings, breeding kink, marriage. etc.

𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

divider by @anitalenia 🤍

“I do” you nod softly biting your lower lip, your sclera black eyes welling up with tears as you stand in front of your soon to be husband hands joined fingers tangled, the shimmery gold wedding rings touching.

“I do” Logan nodded too, itching fingers to raise your weil up to finally kiss his bride. God his heart was nearly jumping out of his chest and when the priest said that he may kiss his wife Logan didn’t waste a second. Uncovering your face he pulled you in his arms and covered your mouth in sweet kisses. Indulging into his warm embrace and his mouth you mewled at the taste of his tongue. Clutching your hands on his white button up your mouths melt.

“Ah..” you sob softly, opening your eyes. Raising your hand to look at your engagement ring, it shimmered even though it was pitch black in the room because of your dark curtains the lights from outside peeked in. Chest heaving up and down blinking away tears. You have been trying to make a baby for the last few weeks. For two months to be exact, but you weren’t lucky to catch on. Touching your lower belly you struggled with your emotions, hearing a noice in the living room you guessed that Logan was still awake doing paperwork. You have been financially stable, and living in peace. The life alone with him was so blissful and you experienced a true home. You worked with children full time, and you couldn’t stop wanting your own. Logan loved the idea of being a father and having his own running around so you both agreed to try and make a baby.

“Princess..” walking in the room wearing one of his white undershirt, pair of pants but the belt left open. Your tears didn’t stop as you lied there holding your lower belly even though he was now sitting next to you cupping your cheek wiping away your new tears. Soon you were about to marry him, he asked you to be his wife only few days ago. Small part of you struggled to accept that what if you were not able to carry children even though you had everything what you woman needed. “I’m sorry” a broken whimper escaped your lips. “Why are you sorry baby?” Logan spoke softly leaning down to kiss your forehead slowly dragging his lips to your cheek kissing away your tears. “Maybe I’m not a real woman.. I’m not real” you sobbed. Maybe it was pathetic, but god you felt so much like a failure.

“You are real for me” Logan kissed your shoulder resting his cheek against your own slowly inhaling her scent. You smelled like coconuts and sweet flowers, he closed his eyes dragging his nose to your collarbone and between your breasts. You pulled him closer fumbling with his belt and pants opening them “Show me..” you breathed desperate to pull his cock out. He groaned hungrily, getting rid of your sleeping shorts and your panties. Your pussy glistened with your slick, moans flowed out of your lips when he rubbed the head of his swollen cock between your folds. Hands coming up to his cheeks you flipped him over so you were on top. He groaned hiking up your tank top above your breasts watching them spring free god they were so round and perky. He loved every part of you-

Licking your fingers to moisten his cock even more before you happily sank on it. He let out a soft whimper seizing your hips with his hands trying to piston his hips up into you but you were too determined to love your man tonight. You wanted him so much- “Ugh baby..” you moaned clenching your mound around his cock his lips were left parted in pleasure when your small hands located his pecks. You began to move back and forth gyrating your warm core around his length making him melt under you. “Mommy and Daddy.. we can do it together” you let out little squeaks of pleasure as he ran his big palms on your sides lovingly caressing you. His breath hitched when you rocked your hips even faster “Fuck yes..” he grunted voice dripping with need and lust. Lips agape eyes shimmering with nothing but love as you picked up the speed of your hips riding him faster moaning softly. Logan couldn’t keep it down himself, he moaned for you as breath hitched in his throat. Feeling him in your soul your body shivered in pleasure “Daddy” you mewled bouncing on his cock quicker. Logan’s thumb slid in your mouth and you sucked on it his other hand eagerly squeezed and fondled your breasts twirling your nipples. “F-fuckkk..” he let out a breathy groan watching you bounce on his cock he held your thighs in his large palms struggling to keep going it felt so good his body began to surge with more pleasure. Cock throbbing and swelling in you, you cried out laying back down on his chest as you kissed. His tongue immediately claimed your own and he flipped you over moving both of his arms around your tiny body pistoning his hips into you thrusting in your sopping wet core. You clenched around him milking him for all and you moaned into your mouths in unison. Tongues swirling together your hands scratching down his back as pleasure bolted through your spine arching your back hitting your hips upwards welcoming his thrusts until you both found your highs. Even through your orgasms you moaned into each other’s mouths holding each other. Your legs and arms remained around him. Gazing at the ceiling Logan rested his face on your naked chest you hummed in post haze euphoria “I love you so much..” he sighed in satisfaction sleepily “me too bub, i love you to pieces”

two weeks passed— you got married. The ceremony was private and between you and Logan only and you couldn’t be happier. You didn’t need much in your life just him— just your person and your soulmate, but you tested negative for pregnancy again. Tears forming in your eyes holding your belly. “Nothing?” Logan wrapped his arms around you from behind and you sighed closing your eyes caressing his forearms looking at the negative pregnancy test on the sink. Your wedding rings shimmered under the light as your fingers touched “We will get lucky.. you gonna carry my little wolves soon” he kissed your cheek a soft smile on his lips burying his face in your hair. Heart skipped a beat at the thought of the moment you’d find out eventually that you’re carrying his baby wolves like he loved to call them.

“dinner in twenty..” you whispered kissing his knuckles before slipping out of his arms walking to the kitchen. Thunderstorm spread across the sky and you hummed switching on the flat screen. News were on, thinking Logan would come to the kitchen to take a beer and relax by the tv but instead of doing so he was right behind you distracting you kissing the back of your neck telling you how much he loved you. You couldn’t hide your smile anymore, your cheeks blushed as he touched and caressed every part of you possible undoing your apron just to kneel down sliding your shorts and panties down your thighs. You stepped out of them eagerly switching off the stove. Turning you around your husband’s mouth was on yours latching hard and passionately kissing you. Moaning into his lips fumbling with his belt and jeans unzipping them Logan was already hoisting you in his arms pressing you against the wall. You cried out against his lips as he impaled you on his cock. “Need to fill my wife with all of me all night..” you whimpered locking your arms around his neck as he held your hips moving you back and forth on his cock slowly starting to thrust at the same time causing your heart shake in your chest eyes closing lips parting as you moaned loudly. His face found home in the valley of your breasts breathing harshly snapping hips into you gripping your thighs in his hands making sure they are parted for him and god you shook in his arms “darling.. ughhhh!! Ugh!” You cried clinging to him as if your heart depended on it and Logan growled his claws shooting out smashing into the wall behind you. You gasped looking at him your noses touching smiling the way his hips never stopped pounding into you “fuck fuck fuck…!” your head tipped back as you bounced up and down quicker and quicker your back sliding up and down against the wall your core clenched around his length. “mmm” running your hands down his back your thighs rocked against his sides the more he snapped his hips into you. “love my little wife’s mess on my cock, can’t wait to fill you with my wolves” he smiled against your lips and you giggled kissing him letting him hold you against the wall and repeatedly pound you until you couldn’t breathe and you were drenching his cock in your sweet release. Your body shook as you coated his length in your orgasm and soon he shoved himself deeply in you giving you another of his precious loads cumming deeply in you nestling himself right against your womb making sure it’s filled with his cum. “baby” you mewled, licking his lower lip and he hugged you close. “You have a wall to repair..” chuckling Logan smirked against your breasts “Can’t help it darling you feel so good” he spend another moment being inside of you and you both couldn’t stop kissing and tasting each others mouth —

“Just one more sweetheart.. c’on show daddy how much you love his tongue” he breathed as heat pooled in your core after not even remembering precisely— how many orgasms did your body endure underneath your husbands. You’ve read in books that newlyweds were always glued to each other and wanting one another so badly. “Please please” you whimpered rocking your mound against your husbands mouth as he teased your clit with his tongue and from the sweet overstimulation you couldn’t take it but cum once again. “Atta girl” he smiled kissing his way up to your breasts sinking back inside of you. Your moans echoed in the bedroom as soon as your hips clashed against one another and you both reached heaven. Passing out in your husbands arms, waking up in his arms— you couldn’t be happier. Heat radiating from his body as the first ray of sunshine peeked through your dark curtains the city becoming alive once again, the holographic advertisements showed something new everyday and you couldn’t stop your curiosity. New robots were made, were they like you? Overtime just coming to life? Or were you just the only one special? Logan stirred awake and he peppered your naked chest in soft kisses “Mornin kitten” you immediately blushed rolling on top of him hugging him tightly.

“Goodbye Blake!” You smiled at one of your little children leaving the day care. Waving him goodbye you gathered the colouring pencils off the floor when you felt the sensation in your stomach. It was a heavy feeling and it travelled upwards. Giving the pencils to your colleague you rushed to the bathrooms, and there it was. Your very first time being sick, like a normal human being. A friend of yours came in to check on you and god you felt so nauseous. Lightheaded. That you almost fainted. And it happened at home too, maybe it was time for you to tell your doctor that you feel unbelievably unwell.

After Logan left for work, you dressed and left your apartment. Of course you didn’t tell him because he’d worry so much about you and you didn’t want to stress him. Maybe parts of you were dying out.. maybe you had blood poisoning. Or worse..

Sitting in the consulting room you spoke to your doctor about your symptoms and she smiled. “Have you been active with your husband, Mrs Howlett?” You nodded immediately “Well of course we love each other” you admitted nervously rubbing your palms together. “Let’s do a little check up shall we?” She guided you to lay back and place your legs on the holders so she can sit between your thighs and look you over. She smiled peeking up at you as you lied there nervous “Am I broken doctor?” You couldn’t help it. You didn’t know how woman’s body worked. “Have you had your cycle this month?” You furrowed your eyebrows together shaking your head telling her a ‘no’

“Well.. your cervix is perfectly sealed, you’re expecting” she smiled at you and abruptly sat up. “What?!” She removed her gloves nodding. “If this is your first please don’t be nervous babies are a miracle. I’m sure your husband will love the news” and there it was. You broke down crying— emotions all over the place and tears rolled down your cheeks. “You don’t understand.. we have been wanting this baby for a long time.. and I thought I’m not lucky enough to be real.. but I’m real” you sobbed taking the tissue from the doctor as she listened to you. “Marriage is beautiful—my dear, this baby is a blessing” she rubbed your back to comfort you and you smiled wiping away your tears.

As you walked home caressing your belly with both of your hands you couldn’t stop smiling. You couldn’t wait to tell Logan that you were carrying one of his precious little wolves and maybe more than one maybe two.

You wanted to wait until dinner to tell him, your heart was beating so fast every time you looked at him while he did some paperwork by the table. Approaching him you sneaked on his lap straddling him wrapping your legs and arms around him clinging to him. He smiled hugging you back pen between his lips reading specs on the bridge of his nose as he read through his paperwork. As silent as you were so was your crying, you were so happy. Soaking his white shirt in your tears you kissing his neck and his ear “I’m pregnant” you breathed and the pen from between his lips fell out. “What?” You nodded slowly kissing his shoulder “I’m pregnant.. and I’m so happy” you hugged him but his arms tightened around you seeking your lips. You kissed him softly meeting his gaze and you felt like your heart could jump out of your chest —

“I am real for you..”

-

𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕. 🤍

[yelenasdiary]

Yelena x fem reader angst hurt/comfort??🫠👀

Yelena feels unloveable and reader is UPSET about it

Under The Oak Tree

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem! Reader

Summary: Yelena has been avoiding you, so when she finally is home, you ask her some questions.

Angst, Hurt & Comfort

Warnings: R asks Yelena if she’s cheating, General self-insecurities, mentions of drinking, mentions of Red Room | 1.6K

Translations: detka (baby),

AC: Thank you for sending this! I hope you enjoy! x 

October Special Masterlist 2024

The compound was loud with light chatter while you tried to stay focused on the conversation Wanda and Natasha were trying to have with you. Inside your mind, it was full of questions and worries you had for Yelena. She had been avoiding you for what felt like months. Conversations with her were short and sweet, she would come home late at night just to be gone while you drank your morning tea, you even noticed that she struggled to be in the same room as you recently. 

Right now, she was on her way back from a mission that Kate had dragged her along too and although things between you both are cold right now, you still miss her. You missed making her laugh, cooking for her after a long day, bickering with her and feeling her wrap her arms around you when she’d walk through the door. You kept thinking back to when things started to feel odd, there was no arguments that you could remember, there wasn’t anything that you knew of that happened on a mission that might have upset her, and you were sure that if she wasn’t doing okay that she would speak to Nat. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Natasha’s voice brought you back to the conversation in front of you. 

“Uh? Oh sorry, I didn’t really sleep well last night. I might get some coffee” you gave the woman a soft smile before you excused yourself from the table. 

You grabbed the pot of coffee and began to pour yourself a mug, you barely drank coffee and Natasha knew that. “Must’ve been a real bad sleep if you’re drinking coffee” she said, slightly startling you. 

“I guess I don’t do well by myself” you replied as you looked up at her. 

“What’s going on?” She asked, watching as you took your first sip. You debated with yourself for a moment if it was worth asking Nat if she had worries about Yelena or maybe you were just overthinking and asking her might be overstepping but what if Nat didn’t know anything? 

“You can talk to me, you know that, right?” She added. You sighed heavily, “I’m worried about Yelena” the words left your lips and from the light nod Nat gave you, she knew something was up. 

“Do you wanna talk about this in private?” She asked just as Kate entered the room.

“Ooo! Fresh coffee!” The young Avenger chirped as she made her way over to you. Yelena stood in the doorway, locking eyes with you, she gave you a soft smile. 

“I think I should go talk to her” you said to Nat, handing your mug of coffee to Kate, “here, have mine, I only took a sip” you smiled at her before walking over to Yelena. 

“Hey” she smiled. Oh, how you’ve missed her smile, she seemed to be in somewhat a better mood. “Can we talk, please?” You asked. She nodded, seeing the sadness in your eyes she knew this would be the time she had to be honest with you. “Do you want to go outside?” She asked. The weather was chilly but refreshing, still, you grabbed your coat and followed the blonde outside. 

The two of you took a seat under the big oak tree, a place you often found yourself sitting whenever you were free and at the compound. Your hands placed comfortably on your knees while Yelena’s eyes were glued to her feet, silence filled the air, draining out the distance sounds of New York City. 

“Is e-everything okay?” You asked, breaking the silence. 

Yelena looked over at you before her eyes dropped once more, “I don’t want to force you to talk to me Lena, but, I care you, a lot and recently, I feel like maybe you’re….I don’t know, I just feel like you’re avoiding me” you added. Silence filled the air once more, this time Yelena stood up. 

“Please don’t walk away” you begged. 

“I wasn’t” she looked at you, “I just want to be able to look at you when we talk about this” she added.

“Talk about what exactly?” 

“The issues we’re having” she replied, kneeling in front of you before she took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to tell you this because I know it’s going to hurt you and I never, ever want to hurt you” 

Your mind started racing once more as you looked into her eyes, she was so good at hiding things, sometimes you hated that. “Are you cheating?” You asked without thinking about the questioned. 

“What? Detka, no! I’d never do that” Yelena quickly assured you, reaching for one of your hands, “I’ve tried so many times to find a way to tell you this and every time, I feel like it makes me sound like a selfish prick. But recently, I’ve been dealing with somethings, some thoughts about myself and who I am” she added, her thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. 

“Whatever it is Lena, it can never be selfish” 

“You say that now but it’s not easy to say this because I know how much you care about me and how much you do for me and somehow I still –“ she paused for a moment, her eyes dropping to her feet so you wouldn’t see the tears building in her green eyes. You gave her a moment to gather her thoughts, not wanting to rush or put any pressure on her to finish her sentence. 

“When I say this, please don’t think that it’s you because it’s not. I promise it’s not” she said, finally looking up at you once again, her eyes filled with tears ready to break and stream down her face. 

“Hey…baby, I’m here for you and whatever this is, we can get through it” you assured her, cupping her face gently. One blink and her tears fell, your thumb catching them as they streamed down her cheeks, “I s-still feel….unlovable” the blonde said. Her words broke your heart, all these weeks she’s been avoiding you to fight her own thoughts, thoughts you wanted to be there to help her through, to give her peace of mind that she’s one of the strongest person you’ve ever met.

“Baby, where is this coming from?” You asked, wiping her tears. 

“Sometimes I look in the mirror and… I don’t even recognize myself anymore. It’s like all the things I’ve done, all those years in the Red Room, they haunt me” she confesses. “I did terrible things. I hurt people. I…I can’t help but feel unlovable because of it. Like I’ll never be worthy of how you see me” she adds as tears flood her cheeks.

“Yelena, you’ve fought so hard to be who you are now. Those things don’t define who you truly are. I don’t love you because of your past, I love you because of who you are” you assure her, your own heart aching knowing your words have little to know effect on her.

Yelena slightly pulled away from you, “sometimes, I feel like that little girl in that room is still inside me. She whispers those terrible thoughts into my ear and… I believe her” she wiped her endless tears on the collar of her shirt as she took a step back from you, “I don’t want to hurt you with my baggage. I don’t want to drag you down, I won’t” she adds.

“Darling, please, listen to me, you are not the person Red Room made you. You are so much more than your past. You’ve created a life filled with love and friendship. You mean everything to me, to Nat and your parents. You chose to fight against all that darkness, to become someone better. Somebody who is so, so loveable, somebody who cares so deeply for the people you love. Red Room didn’t do that, you did that” you stood up, reaching for her hand. 

“You took something horrible and saved so many lives. When you killed Dreykov, you freed so many girls just like you and Natasha. You don’t allow yourself to see that, or to even acknowledge just how much good you do. You are anything but unlovable” you added. 

“But what if one day you see me for what I really am? What if you can’t love what’s left after all the training and lies?” She asks, searching your eyes for an answer. Gently you cup her face once more, wiping her tears again. 

“Then I’ll love that too. Because I love every single piece of you, the good and the bad, the softness and the strength, the scars and the smiles. If I could make you see yourself the way I do, I would do so in a heartbeat. But all of this is part of your journey and I’ll be damned if I let the little girl from the Red Room tell you that you are not deserving of love, because I don’t see anybody else more deserving than you. Do you hear me?”

“D-do you really mean that?” Yelena asked through her soft sobs. 

“With everything I have, and I will happily spend the rest of my life reminding you how you deserve love, how loveable you are and goddamn it how unbelievably strong you are” you smile ever so softly at her. Without a second thought, Yelena crashes into you, hugging you tightly. 

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you” she whispers as you both enjoy the comfort of being held by one another, “you’re not alone another, darling, I promise” you reply.

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[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 9 - ( c.s )

part eight

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- angst, swearing, i think that’s it

a/n: i’m back my little goblins let’s get it!!!! part ten of this series will be the final part, and then i plan on writing an ‘epilogue’ type chapter to wrap it all up. i’m hoping to have them up as quickly as possible, but ive been absolutely slammed so im sorry if it takes me a minute. i love u always and i’ve missed being on here so i hope you enjoy <3

(if you asked to be tagged in the last part and weren’t tagged it’s bcs it wouldn’t let me!! i’m so sorry i tried my hardest)

to be let down, you have to expect something from someone. it’s a mistake you’ve made far too frequently in your years on earth, especially in college, but this time around the grief is debilitating.

you spend the rest of your weekend locked inside your room, attempting to sleep away the heartbreak. somehow dreaming almost makes it worse; for a second you’re able to forget about being completely humiliated, until you wake up in reality once more.

it doesn’t help that chris has been absolutely blowing up your phone since the moment you left. every call and text goes unanswered. it’s impossible to read them, so most of the time you don’t.

hell, you can’t even open your curtains because you’re too scared that he’ll be looking back at you when you do. so you block out the sunlight, ensuring that your room matches your dreary feelings.

you figure he’ll give up on trying to talk to you eventually. you’re not different. he’s not different. and once chris regains that pride of his, he’ll go right back to fucking some other girl he won’t care about half as much.

thoughts like those make you cry even harder, as much as you hate it. but you know the disinterest will wash over him sooner or later, and you resent that inevitable day.

cassidy and ramona check on you pretty much every other hour. it makes you feel even worse that they’re so concerned, but neither of them have ever seen you like this. at least not since freshman year, when you dated an upperclassman for a couple months just for him to dump you over text.

even that heartache was relatively short-lived. but this pain follows you into the week, trailing behind you like a shadow you can’t get rid of. it sits beside you in class, curls up next to you in bed, weighs your shoulders down whenever you walk.

it feels like you’re struggling to stay afloat, to even act like a real human anymore. chris consumes your brain, and so do the ‘what if’s’ of your situation. it makes the week drag on, even though you try to spend most of it asleep.

to make matters worse, his multiple notifications continue with a routine consistency, almost like clockwork. you figured he’d already be over it, but he clearly doesn’t want to make himself easy to forget.

you have to admit that you’re glad his persistence lasted at least this long, even if it’s for selfish reasons. you’re disgusted that the attention satisfies you, but it’s not an unwelcome change considering all you’ve been feeling lately is queasy.

still, you don’t read them, or pick up when he calls. you can’t hear his voice, because you know it’ll absolutely break you.

and then finally, on friday, you see him in the flesh. you’re walking home from your bus stop after the only lecture you managed to get to that day, and there he is, getting out of his car.

your throat seizes up; there’s no way to avoid this. it’s easy to ice someone out over text, but it’s a hell of a lot harder when he’s your neighbor.

before you can snap your head away he’s turning to look in your direction, eyes equally as wide as yours once the recognition washes over him. he looks like shit, and yet he’s still so goddamn beautiful it makes you physically sick.

for a brief moment, everything stops. you just stare at each other.

chris takes in you in, the way you look noticeably drained. he feels that familiar nauseous pang in his stomach flare up, knowing that he stole the spark from your eyes.

the worst part is that you’ll never look at him with that fire again. there’s nothing he can do to bring it back now, no way to reverse the past.

then—before he can decide what to do in the present—you break the spell, cutting through your other neighbor’s lawn to get to your front porch. everything in him wants to run after you, so much so that he has to physically restrain himself.

you hear him calling after you, and something about him shouting your name stirs the tears awake once more. but you make it through the door before they fall, because you can’t show any more vulnerability than you already have.

getting inside doesn’t mean that you make it up the stairs, though. the physical and emotional exhaustion catches up to you, and you collapse around halfway through your blurry climb to your room.

your elbows dig into your kneecaps, hands holding your head while you sob. it seems impossible to catch your breath, or calm down in the slightest, and your cries only grow louder.

normally you’d be careful about the noise, but there’s no one to hide from right now. nobody is home. it’s just you and your thoughts, which, as always, are full of him.

you may be able to push him out of your life, but you have a feeling he’ll be lingering in the corners of your mind forever.

the post-game locker room mood is completely miserable tonight. after that last minute loss and the thirty minute bitch-session they just endured from their coach, it honestly should be.

chris barely even has his skates off before his teammates are all over him, which he expected but still dreaded.

his head’s not in it, and everybody knows.

“what the fuck is wrong with you, man? it’s like you’re not even awake out there.” one of the team’s leading defensemen, luke, yanks him up by his jersey roughly.

for a second he pauses, setting his jaw and puffing his chest out slightly. the accusation, though it’s not completely untrue, pisses him off.

so much so that chris retaliates by shoving him back to his rightful place a foot away. “get the hell off of me, man.”

luke looks like he’s ready to jump into action again, but connor steps in between before anything else can happen. he’s also very visibly angry, a side that doesn’t come out often.

and just because he stopped a physical fight from breaking out doesn’t mean he’s going to stay silent. “he’s right. you’re playing like shit, and we‘re way too far into the season to be blowing it now, especially with selection show right around the corner.”

chris can feel his blood is boiling at this point, knowing that even his roommate is going to support this kind of disrespect towards his own captain. the rest of the team is watching silently, but he can’t find it anywhere in himself to care.

the words have already bubbled up, and he won’t hold them back anymore.

“oh come on, it’s not like anyone else was stepping up! dylan turned the puck over every other play, ben was offside during that odd man rush, and don’t even get me started on you and the high sticking penalty that just lost us that fucking game.” he shoves his pointer finger against connor’s chest for emphasis, trying to make sure his criticism stings as much as possible.

but his friend is quick to swat his hand away, shaking his head once sharply.

“no, you don’t get to turn it on everyone else. you lost it for us during that sorry excuse of a penalty kill. you let that little UMass shit go right by you, which is why he had a wide open shot to score the game winner. you’ve been making dumb mistakes like that for two weeks now, and we all know why.”

that implication is enough to send chris over the edge, because nobody has the right to mention what happened between you and him. knowing about the situation doesn’t mean they should get to speak on it.

he can feel his fingernails digging into his palms, both hands balled into tight fists at his side. the anger coursing through his body makes him shake ever so slightly, almost like he’s humming.

“keep going and i’ll bust your fucking face in.” chris says, voice eerily calm despite the fact that his body is screaming.

but connor doesn’t back down; he stands tall with an unwavering gaze that’s more serious than ever before. “you gotta grow a pair and start being our captain again. you fucked up, and losing someone you’re actually into because of that sucks. most of us have been there. but trying to throw everyone under the bus is bullshit when you’re the one that needs to get it together.”

nothing about his words are intentionally meant to hurt, and chris knows that, but for some reason they do. probably because he doesn’t want to hear the truth, or start coming to terms with the fact that he actually did lose you.

he really doesn’t ever want to accept it.

but his ego won’t let him say that. instead, chris shifts his gaze to observe the rest of the room, at all of his teammates, before focusing on connor once again.

“if you don’t think that i’m your captain anymore then find a new one.” he spits.

the room somehow gets even more quiet; everyone is stunned by the out-of-character reaction. for the most part, chris really is a good leader. they all voted for him to represent the team when it came time, and the group dynamic has been great since then.

but he doesn’t feel like that guy now. he’s not sure who he is anymore. so he throws the rest of his equipment into his bag and yanks it over his shoulder.

“really, chris?” it’s ben this time, who’s clearly dumbfounded by the theatrics.

he doesn’t respond, and he tries not to hesitate too much as he makes his way out of the locker room. everyone lets him pass, which makes it even harder to leave.

it feels so wrong, but his feet keep pushing him forward regardless.

when chris finally makes it home twenty minutes later, the frustration has only festered. he doesn’t like anything he’s doing, and yet it’s spiraling out of his control. by the time he gets to his room, tears of aggravation have made their way down his face.

he wipes them away harshly as he stares out his window at your room, which is still closed off by your curtains. it’s like his heart seizes up just from being this close to you, knowing that you’re in there yet he can’t reach you.

and maybe that’s the problem. chris loves hockey, but at the end of the day he clearly loves you more. and with things the way that they are, his heart is fully wrapped up in you, not the game.

it’s terrifying, and it’s painful. he never thought that there’d be anyone to test his bachelor lifestyle until you came around, and he can’t just go back to normal because he doesn’t know how.

he’s been permanently changed, and it feels like a huge part of his new life is suddenly missing.

you saw the deepest parts of him, parts that he didn’t even know existed, and he saw the same side of you. you challenged him in ways he’d never experienced, and he loved that he always felt like he was evolving when you were together.

now he just feels stagnant, unsure of himself.

the only thing he’s sure of is that he needs you, whether that makes him inconsiderate or not. he can’t keep sleepwalking through life, but he’s not sure what else there is to do.

simply put, he misses you like hell. so he lays back in bed and closes his eyes, trying to remember what it felt like to have you right beside him.

@fawnchives @l9vesick @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @impureals @chrisactualwife @fikefries @riasturns @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18 @realqueenofpepsi @snowysosturn @secretfangirly @scarlettbitches @satvisfavetoodles

[rosedpetal]

Until Death Do Us Part

Summary: Harvey and you have been on a rocky road lately, but hopefully, you can still find each other.

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 932

Warnings: stablished relationship (reader and Harvey are married), mentions of body image struggles, hints at +18 themes.

Masterlist

"No. Absolutely not." Your husband frowned when you came out from the closet wearing your 'costume'.

A huff of annoyance leaves your lips.

"What the fuck is wrong now? Did I gain weight and suddenly you can't get up or something?" Venom drips from your sarcastic remark and Harvey rubs his temples.

"Why are you like this? Jesus Christ, Y/N, it's not about some shit like that, stop trying to make me a bad guy at every given chance!" He snaps. "It's just your stupid wings, okay? You look like you came straight from a Barbie movie, when you said you'd like to roleplay being a fairy, I thought you'd use one of those Lord of the Rings-"

"Those are elves. Not fairies. They don't have wings!" You seethe, taking your plastic wings off and accidentally pressing the light button on them, turning the pink leds on, and Harvey's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I'm sorry if my knowledge in a fictional world lore is lacking, it's because I actually have a real job."

That was cruel and uncalled for and he knew it. Harvey had a bad habit of saying the most callous things without even thinking. It didn't help that he hated the idea of roleplaying from the very beginning.

"How could I forget, it's the only thing you care about!" You raise your voice, and it breaks in the end. "Tonight was supposed to be fun!"

Harvey immediately regrets the jab he made at your wings. Well, it's not that he couldn't get himself to be motivated by you while you were wearing them... It's just that it was fucking weird because he was a grown man and he was pretty sure his kid niece wore the same pink fairy wings every Halloween.

And he could explain that to you, but you just had to make a self deprecating comment about your body and imply that he wasn't man enough to look past his partner putting on some weight.

Which was another ridiculous thing, because, seriously? He couldn't care less if you were a size 2 or 20. It didn't matter. He married you because he loved you, inside and out, and you weren't an airhead that couldn't carry on a conversation with him. He respected you. He was interested in what you had to say (most of the time, at least).

But for months now, you two have been fighting nonstop, and more than often saying some hurtful shit to each other and no longer searching for the comfort of each other's arms in the middle of the night.

He wondered if your sudden self consciousness regarding your body was because you've been stress-eating ever since the chasm between you two was created.

Harvey was selfish, harsh, arrogant and snappy, but he wasn't insensitive to how women sometimes had insecurities that ate them alive.

He sighed, following you in the closet, his chest tightening at the sigh of your angry tears while you put on sweatpants and a top (the sleepwear you wore on nights you made sure no intimacy was gonna happen).

He even agreed on going to therapy with you, which he thought was an admission of defeat, that you two weren't mature enough to solve your problems on your own.

"Honey." He called, his voice soft with regret.

He hates the 'homework' your therapist gives you every week. A dinner date, a little getaway, a road trip, sitting down and talking for an hour. He feels like his own relationship is being scripted and that you can't find common ground anymore.

"What?" You wipe your tears, unable to look at him in the eyes.

"We don't roleplay." He said in a teasing tone. "Why would I want you to pretend to be someone else when you already exist?"

He gently holds your face in both hands, wiping the remaining tears with his thumbs.

"I'm an idiot. I promise my reaction has nothing to do with whatever's been making you feel vulnerable right now. Seriously. The wings just reminded me of halloween, and halloween reminded me of children going trick-or-treating and you don't want your husband to be thinking of children in the bedroom, do you?"

You grimaced. "God, no."

"Glad we're on the same page, babe." He gently pressed his forehead against yours. "Dance with me."

"There's no music." You sniffled.

"We have a nice record player in the living room. Come on, baby."

Gently, he guided you out from the room, his fingers intertwined in yours as he put on some sappy jazz music. He sways barefoot with you on his arms, your head on his chest, and it takes you back to simpler times.

"I'm sorry. For everything." He's the first to speak, and you appreciate the sentiment, because you know how hard it is for him to apologize, specially when he's the first one to bend the knee to make peace.

"We'll get through this." You mumble, and he kisses the top of your head, and suddenly the golden ring on your finger feels lighter.

"I love you more than anything in the world, darling. Please, don't doubt that. I need you to remember that every single day, specially when I'm at my worst."

"I love you too, Harvey."

He knows there's a long way to go, but the little progress you made tonight makes his heart feel more at ease, as long as you're both on the same side, because he knew with every fiber of his being that he meant it when he said 'until death do us part'.

[punkette1026]

You Are Not My Mom!

Summary:

Lately, you and Joel noticed that Sarah has become withdrawn. You are both at a loss of what to do when an incident at schools reveals how Sarah currently feels towards you and how she feels about her current position in the growing Miller family.

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Bullying, Pregnancy

Words:8,539

Pedro Pascal Master List

You Are Not My Mom Masterlist

Author's Notes:

I really hope that you enjoy this one. This one was hard to write. And thank you to @beardedjoel for all the help with this one. And yes I know Sarah is a sweet baby angel, but it will make sense.

You woke up feeling horrible yet again. You had spent the last hour of the early morning in the fetal position of the bathroom floor. You had tried your best to not wake your sleeping husband in the other room. He had a big day at work later on in the day and you wanted him to get as much rest as he could. He had been working so hard lately to provide for your growing family but promised you that at the end of the day, it would be worth it. However, despite your best attempts to stay quiet, Joel had woken up missing your warmth beside him.

“Jesus doll, why didn’t you wake me?” his sleepy deep voice echoed through the bathroom.

“I…I…shit, you need to rest,” you struggled to say as another bout of nausea hit you.

Joel, the ever-so-loving husband that he was, was by your side in an instant, making sure that he held your hair back for you. “I’m getting real worried about you doll. This is the third time this week that I have found you like this. What time is your appointment on Monday?”

“At nine I think,” you groaned, resting your head back against his chest. “I know work is busy right now, so I understand if you can’t come with me. I can always ask Maria if she can go with me. I promise you that I won’t find out the genders without you.”

Sighing, he pulled you into his arms and placed a gentle kiss on your head, “Like hell I’m going to miss it doll. Tommy can handle things for a while. I need to ask the doctor some questions regarding this whole morning sickness thing anyways. I need to make sure you and the little ones are okay. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you, them, or Sarah. You four are my whole world.”

When it came to the health and safety of his family, Joel didn’t play around. He would drop anything at the drop of a dime if you guys needed something. Looking down at where his hands were rubbing small circles on your belly, you couldn’t help but smile. You couldn’t believe how in just a few short months, your family of three would be a family of five. It came as quite a shock to everyone when the doctor told you that you were expecting twins. Neither side of your family had twins in them so when the doctor announced it, you stared at her like she had two heads and Sarah tried her hardest to keep Joel from passing out. You were all excited though and had plenty of love to go around.

Once you felt well enough to move without feeling sick to your stomach, Joel helped you to your feet and walked you over to the sink to help you clean up. He then guided you back to the bed, making sure that you were sitting up slightly before placing a kiss to your lips. Doing the same thing as he did all the other nights, he went downstairs to grab you some ginger ale and crackers for you. Those always seemed to help settle your stomach. 

While downstairs, he tried his best to keep quiet, however the sound of someone entering the kitchen and turning the lights on startled him. “Dammit Sarah! Give your old man a warning will you,” he whispered loudly clutching his chest. “What are you doing up?”

“Sorry, but it's hard to sleep when you keep dropping things and cussing up a storm,” she groaned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “What are you doing in here?”

“Your mom isn’t feeling good again, so I’m trying to find her some of  those crackers that she likes. Do you know where they are? I know that I saw some here.”

“Oh, those crackers, I umm...I sort of ate them, sorry,” she winced. 

“Really Sarah, I thought I told everyone not to touch them. That’s why I tried to hide them,” he growled. “I guess I’ll just have to go after work and pick up a box or two. We are running low on ginger ale. Do you need anything?”

Sarah shook her head, “No I don’t and why can’t she go to the store herself? She is the one that needs them. I only ate them because dinner was disgusting anyways.”

“Okay first off, watch your tone young lady. Your mom worked hard on that dinner. Second, I don’t want her overdoing it this weekend. I want her to take it easy till her appointment. Which brings me to something that I want to talk about. Come here, sit down,” he told her as he pulled out a chair for her. “Listen Sarah, you know how much I love you and you know how much I enjoy the time we spend together. However, considering how you have been acting lately and how I really need to be here in case your mother gets sick again, I think it’s best that we cancel our brunch date tomorrow.”

Ever since you came into her life when she was five years old, you had always made sure that Joel had put his daughter above everything else. You were the one coming into the family, after all. It had always been her and Joel and you didn’t want Sarah to feel like you were taking her dad away from her. So, you encouraged Joel to do something special with her. That’s why on the first Saturday of the month, Joel would take Sarah out for brunch and to do some shopping. Now with the babies coming, you encouraged it even more as she was going to have to get used to sharing both of your attention.

Joel watched as Sarah’s face fell. “What, no!”

“Will you hush,” he tried to quiet his daughter. “Look I’m sorry to do it Sarah, but I have no choice. You haven’t been on your best behavior lately and that attitude of yours needs to change. I know you are going through some changes, but you need to let us in and help you though. I know your mom is really worried about you too. I promise you though as soon as I see a change in you and your mom starts feeling better, then maybe we can see about rescheduling. Right now, though, it isn’t a good time to reward you, Sarah. I hope you understand that.”

“But...but...ugh! This is so not fair!” she growled as she ripped herself away from the table and away from him. Then like she used to do when she was little, she stomped her feet all the way to her room before slamming the door behind her.

All Joel could do was shake his head in disappointment. That was the type of behavior that he was talking about. Normally Sarah was a great kid. She never talked back and was always fun to be around. She was always one to put a smile on your face. As of late, however, she had this newly found attitude and walked around like she had a chip on her shoulder. Every time he tried to ask her what was going on Sarah would snap at him and storm off. Like he said, something was going to have to change soon. 

Sighing and grabbing the can of ginger ale, Joel ventured back upstairs hoping that you didn’t hear his little spat with Sarah. That was the last thing that he thought would happen at three in the morning. Thankfully when he got back, you were already dozing off. Walking over to your nightstand, he placed the can of ginger ale there just in case you needed it before going over to his side of the bed.

“C’mere,” you called out to him, knowing that you couldn’t fully fall asleep until he was next to you again.

Giving you that dimpled smile that you fell in love with, he got back under the covers and curled himself into you, resting his head on your chest. “Sorry I took so long doll.”

“It’s okay baby. What happened down there? Heard a door slam,” you tiredly whispered, closing your eyes again.

Joel leaned up and placed a kiss underneath your jaw, “Well I was trying to find you your things and I guess I woke Sarah up. We ended up getting into it a little bit when I told her that I’m canceling tomorrow. She didn’t like what I had told her, so she stormed off back to her room. She is not happy with me right now.”

“What, why are you canceling?”

“Because she honestly doesn’t deserve it. Not with the way that she is acting. I told her that until she does, we won’t be doing anything until then. Besides, I want to be here in case your morning sickness starts up again.”

Shaking your head, you sat up a little bit, not wanting to have this conversation laying down. “While I do agree that she needs to change her attitude, I don’t think you should have canceled Joel. That is your special time with her. I’m really worried about her, Joel.”

“I’m really worried about her too Y/N, but I just don’t think we should be rewarding her for her bad attitude and disrespect. All that’s going to do is teach her that she can get away with it. I honestly think that we should have tried to discipline her in some other way already."

I know but we can’t look back, only forward. I really think that you could have used that time with her one on one to find out what is going on with her Joel. And as much as I appreciate it baby, please don’t throw me into the mix. Do not cancel on my behalf. I am fine I swear and besides, Maria and I have plans to start cleaning out the office for the nursery. I don’t need you hovering over me Joel, I got this. What we really need to be focusing on is Sarah.”

Like always, Joel couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Somehow you always were the voice of reason when it came to his bright ideas. You were always the one to set him straight. “What would I do without you doll?” he smiled at you. “You are right, and I messed up. I’ll talk to Sarah again on the way to school. We really do need to figure this out, I agree. But the question is how? We have both tried talking to her and look at what’s happened so far. If we do go out tomorrow, I don’t think we are going to do much talking. Has she said anything to you lately? I talked to her soccer coach, and she said Sarah has been acting fine at practice.”

“I can’t tell if you are being serious or being funny Joel. You know Sarah hasn’t spoken to me much in weeks. I’m lucky if I can get a hi out of her these days. I don’t know what I did to make her hate me. She won’t even look me in the eye anymore. “All you wanted to know was what the issue was, so you could fix it. You missed how close you and Sarah used to be. She was and will always be your number one girl after all.

“I know doll and I’m sorry. I’m getting really tired of the disrespect towards you. You are her mother and from where I’m standing, you have done nothing wrong and don’t deserve to be treated this way. The only thing that I could think of that could work, is maybe having Tommy or Maria talk to her? It seems like that is the only thing that we haven’t tried yet,” he said tiredly running his hand through his hair. 

That might actually be a good idea, you thought to yourself. You remembered back to when you were her age and knew how hard it could be to talk to your parents. It sometimes helped to talk to someone on the outside how could give you a new perspective on things. “Yes, I definitely think that we should do that. Just please Joel, do not cancel tomorrow. You go have a fun time with Sarah and don’t worry about me alright,” you smiled at him as you cupped his face. You loved that patchy beard of his.

Joel leaned forward and gently placed a kiss to your lips, “I promise doll and I’ll explain it all to Sarah on the way to school later.”

“Good, now let’s get some rest. You have a big day ahead of you, mister, and I need you well rested. I know how hard you and Tommy have worked hard for this chance.” You and Joel knew that this meeting was going to change everyone’s life if all went according to plan.

Pulling you into him again, Joel cuddled his face into your neck, “I’ll be fine doll. You know that I’m used to having barely any little sleep.” He then gently pushed you back down on the bed and hovered over you, “However if you want me to get some sleep, I think we could work something out.”

“You are insatiable Joel Miller, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The next time you woke up, Joel was long gone. His side of the bed was already cold and the smell of him on his pillow was beginning to fade. You couldn’t help but smile as you stretched out in the bed with that sweet ache between your thighs still there. 

As you sat up and held the sheet to your bare chest, you looked over to check the time and saw a piece of paper waiting for you. Smiling to yourself, you picked it up and you felt your heart skip a beat as you recognized Joel’s sexy handwriting written neatly on the page:

Good morning doll,

You made it hard for me to leave this morning. You looked so beautiful. I still can’t believe you are mine. I feel like the luckiest man in the world. Do me a favor and try to take it easy today please. I’ll call you later as soon as we are done. And as promised, I talked to Sarah this morning as I made coffee. We are planning to have brunch and a movie tomorrow. Hopefully that will open her up. I swear I saw a small smile when I told her. I love you and the kiddos so much. Call me if you need anything please. See you in a bit.

Love your man,

Joel

Happy tears ran down your cheeks as you reread his note again. That husband of yours had such a way with words. With every note that he wrote to you over the years, you fell more and more in love with him.

Even the babies felt their daddy’s love as you could feel their flutters in your belly, “I know little ones, I’m already missing him too. Hopefully he will work this out with your sister, and everything will be alright from here on out. Mommy is really worried about her.” And you still wouldn’t stop worrying about her. She would always be your baby girl.

After deciding on a long shower, you slowly got out of bed and got your day started. You were going to do some light cleaning and spend the rest of the day on the couch per Joel's request. However, as you made your way down the stairs to start vacuuming, a knock on your door stopped you in your tracks. You were expecting anyone so you were curious as to who it could be.

“Morning neighbor!” Your sister-in-law greeted you as you opened the door for her.

“Morning Maria!” Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here? I thought I wasn't going to see you until later tonight.” you asked in surprise. “Didn't you have to work today?”

“Oh well I did, but I decided to take the day off. Perks of being your own boss. Figured that if it was alright with you, we could get a start on cleaning out the nursery or just hang out.”

While you were grateful that she thought of you and was willing to make time for you, you couldn't help but feel like there was an ulterior motive. “Or... Joel asked you to come over, didn't he?” You knew that husband of yours so well.

Maria dramatically sighed and threw her hands up, “I knew it, I told him that you would figure it out. I told him that you were smarter than that. I'm sorry Y/N.”

“Don't worry about it. I should have known that he was going to pull a stunt like this. I'm glad that you are here though. I really need your help with something else,” you said nervously as you walked her over to the couch. “I need your help with Sarah.”

“Yeah of course, what's going on? I know that Joel had mentioned to Tommy that you're having a hard time with her lately. I know being a teenager is hard these days and I certainly do not miss being one.”

“Me either, it was exhausting. But I don't remember being so closed off as her. Neither Joel nor I can get more than a sentence or two out of her. All she does is just stare at that damn phone of hers and stays in her room listening to music. We are at a loss here Maria. We talked it over earlier this morning and we would really appreciate it if you or Tommy could talk to her for us. I really think it would be better if it was you specifically, because I think talking to another woman would help rather than just talking to her mom. I love Tommy and all, but...”

“Sometimes he doesn't take things seriously, I know. Lord help us for when we have kids,” Maria rolled her eyes. “But yes, I would be happy to help. I'll let her know that whatever she tells me will be in confidence but if it's something that I'm concerned with, I will have to tell you guys.”

For the first time in weeks, you breathed a fresh breath of air. You really hoped that Maria was going to be the godsend that you were looking for when it came to getting Sarah to open up. “Thank you, Maria, thank you, thank you. We seriously appreciate it and I'm sure Joel will be happy to hear that you're going to help us.”

Maria just smiled and pulled you into a hug, “you're welcome girly and don't mention it. Now about the nursery...”

Unfortunately, Maria was unable to finish her sentence as your phone interrupted her plans. Thinking it was Joel, you quickly answered it hoping it was good news, “hello?”

“Hello, this is Principal Ramona over at the high school. Are you Y/N Miller?” Okay so it wasn't Joel.

“Umm... Yes, it is. How may I help you, Principal Ramona?”  Your stomach dropped as it was rare for the school to call.”

“Well, I wish I was calling under better circumstances Mrs. Miller, but we unfortunately had an incident with Sarah, and we need you to come down here to the school.”

You knew you had heard her right, but for some reason, your mind wasn't comprehending it, “I... I'm sorry but can you repeat that?”

“Mrs. Miller, I can explain it all when you get here. Sarah is fine so there's no need to worry. We just need you to come here as soon as you can. “We tried calling her father, but there was no answer,” Principal Ramona replied.

You ran your hand through your hair and shook your head in disbelief, “Yes that is to be expected as he is working right now, but I will make it down there as soon as I can. Can you at least tell me what happened?”

“Mrs. Miller, I'd rather just talk about this face to face. So, we will see you soon. Goodbye.”

As soon as you hung up or rather got hung up on. You couldn't help but let out a frustrated groan. “What, what's wrong?” Maria had overheard bits and pieces and from what she could gather, she knew it wasn't good.

“Well, that was the school that called, sounds like Sarah is currently in the principal's office right now. What has gotten into that girl Maria?”

“All right well first I think it's best that you try to calm down. There is no need to freak out yet without knowing any more details. Let's just get to the school and we'll see what happens okay,” Maria said calmly. “Where are your keys I'm driving?”

“They're in the office, I think. Do you think I should call Joel?” Your mind was running 1,000,000 miles a minute, so it was hard to think straight and think of what to do next.

Maria thought about it for a second and knew that it would probably be for the best. “Yeah, I think you should give him a heads up, but let him know that I'm with you and that we have everything under control. I don't need both of you freaking out on me and Tommy.”

That was definitely an understatement. Poor Tommy and Maria had unofficially become your families emotional support people over the years, “Yeah, you're right and thanks again Maria, you're a lifesaver.”

“Don't mention it. Now let's go!”

The drive to the school was certainly a long one indeed. It was only a 20 minute drive, but the fear of the unknown made it feel like time had slowed. You tried to be calm though as you knew having a level head would only be beneficial to Sarah.

“Did you want me to go with you?” Maria asked as she parked the car.

“No, I think I could handle it. I'll text you though if I need backup. Speaking of which, let me text Joel before I head in.”

‘Hey babe, there's an issue at Sarah school. Sounds like she is fine, but something happened. I have Maria with me. I'll text you when we are done. Love you and good luck!’

As you put your phone away and major way inside the school, the hallways were packed with kids making their way to their next classes. Just the sight and smell alone sent shivers down your spine. You didn’t enjoy high school at all. You remembered all the times you were bullied and sat alone at lunch, and you prayed with all your heart that Sarah was having a better high school experience than you.

Bumping past the sea of students, you finally made it to the office where a young woman was busy typing away at her computer. “Hello, I'm Y/N Miller. I'm here to see Principal Ramona. My daughter Sarah, is in her office I believe,” you said nervously.

“Ahh yes ma’am. She is indeed expecting you. Please have a seat and I will let her know that you are here.”

Nodding your head, you took a seat, nervously tapping your foot. “It’s okay little ones, mommy is going to sort this out with your sister and then we can go home and relax,” you whispered as you felt their flutters start up again.

You then heard a door open up and out walked an older gray-haired woman with too much makeup on her face, “Hello, you must be Mrs. Miller. I’m Principal Ramona. Thank you for coming. Please come in.”

You quickly stood up and shook her hand, “You’re welcome, Principal Ramona, and again, thank you for calling. How is she?”

“Sarah is fine Mrs. Miller. See for yourself,” she opened the door back up and invited you back into her office. 

That’s when you finally got to see Sarah sitting there with her arms crossed looking miserable. “Wait, you called her?!” Sarah said angrily when she saw you. You couldn’t lie when her response had taken you back just a little. “I thought you said that you called my dad?!”

“Sarah Miller, sit down right now! You are in enough trouble as it is,” Principal Ramona scolded her. “Your father was unable to attend our little get together, so I had to call your mother instead. Is that going to be an issue?” It looked like Sarah had mumbled something under her breath, but she eventually gave in and sat back down. “That’s better. Please Mrs. Miller, have a seat. We have a lot to discuss.”

Taking a seat next to your daughter, you tried to reach out and take her hand, but Sarah pulled away and moved her chair away from you. “Sarah, what’s going on? Talk to me baby. You used to do it all the time. Your father and I are really worried about you.” As usual though, she said nothing, but this time, you could see tears in her eyes.

“Don’t worry Mrs. Miller, she hasn’t said much since we brought her in here. From what I have been told by some of her fellow teachers, Sarah has taken quite a turn here. They report that she has become withdrawn, has various missing assignments, and today she got into a confrontation with another student during the passing period and physically assaulted another student.”

“Wait, wait, wait, I’m sorry Principal Ramona, but I’m finding it very hard to believe any of that, especially the assault part. Sarah has never been the fighting type. There has to be some other explanation.” There was just no way none of this happened. There was no way that things were actually this bad at school too.

Principal Ramona just sighed and shook her head, “Well I’m afraid that it is true Mrs. Miller. These are just several complaints from her teachers. We were going to set up a meeting with you and your husband to go over everything, but Sarah’s little transgression beat us to it.”

She then handed you the list of complaints. “I...I...I don’t know what to say Principal Ramona. Sarah, do you want to explain these to me?” Once again, silence. “Alright then, what about the fight? Do you want to tell me what started it or why you hit her? Whatever the reason was Sarah, I’m sure we can figure it out.”

Sarah continued to stare straight ahead, but this time as she frustratedly wiped the tear that fell from her face she spoke, “She...she...ugh, what does it even matter anyway? Can we just go home? I don’t want to be in this stupid place anymore. Everyone sucks!” It may not have been what you wanted to hear, but at least she acknowledged you and this situation finally.

“Sarah sweetheart, I know you are upset, but...”

“But I’m afraid Sarah is right Mrs. Miller,” the principal interrupted you rudely. She didn’t even seem to care that Sarah had almost opened up. “No matter what happened, it doesn’t change the fact that Sarah attacked another student. I’m afraid that I have to take some serious action now.”

“How serious are we talking about?”

“Well, since this is Sarah’s first violation, I’m willing to take that into consideration. So, I think a week’s suspension should do. During that time, Sarah will be responsible for completing all her missing assignments that her teachers are willing to let her make up. I also haven’t spoken to her soccer coach yet, but I would assume that a suspension from the team will also be put in place.”

Sarah’s eyes grew wide as she immediately stood up, “What, no please! I’m sorry, okay, I’m really sorry. I’ll take the suspension, but don’t take away soccer!”

“Principal Ramona, look I understand that what Sarah did was wrong, and I promise that she will be punished, but you said that this was her first violation. Surely, we can think of something else. Like maybe detention every day for the next month and she still gets to do soccer. It seems that it’s the only thing that is making her happy at the moment.”

However, it seemed that the principal had already made her mind up, “I’m sorry Mrs. Miller, but that simply will not do. I would expect our parents to understand our rules and regulations. Maybe next time Sarah will think about the consequences of her actions and not act so irrational.”

“I didn’t act irrationally! She got into my face and got what she deserved. She has been....never mind, but this is still not fair! I hate this school!” Sarah said, getting upset once again. She then grabbed her things and stormed out of the office. She didn’t even seem to care that she pushed you out of her way.

Your cheeks grew red with embarrassment at your daughter’s outburst, “ I am so sorry Principal Ramona. Her father and I will work on this behavioral issue. I just wish that you would reconsider. Are we sure we don’t know anything else about the fight?” The more information you had to share with Joel, the better. 

“Unfortunately, no one would say what it was about. Both Sarah as well as the girl and group of friends refuse to say anything. I have already sent the other girl home, so I’m afraid that we cannot ask her again.”

“So that’s it then? My daughter gets suspended without any further investigation. What if she was defending herself? What about the other girl, was she punished?” You couldn’t believe this. 

Principal Ramona shook her head in disapproval, “Mrs. Miller, I cannot disclose that information. But please, let’s not make this harder than it has to be. My mind has already been made up. Now here is a folder of all her missing assignments. My receptionist will be in touch to schedule a meeting between us as well as your husband to discuss Sarah returning to school.”

“Yes, I’m sure my husband would definitely like to discuss this further. Thank you for being such a caring and understanding educator,” you said sarcastically as you snatched the folder from her hand. You didn’t even tell her goodbye as you left in search of your daughter. Thankfully you found her by the front door waiting for you, “You okay there kiddo? That principal of yours isn’t very friendly. I can see why you don’t like her.”

“Look, can we just go home now,” she pouted as she pushed open the door. “Where are you parked?”

“Well Maria brought me here and it’s parked over there. Look Sarah despite whatever grudge is that you have against me at the moment. You do know that I’m here to help you right. I love you so much and I don’t...”

“Just stop will you. I’m not in the mood. I just want to go home,” she snapped at you, storming off towards Maria’s direction. All you could do was just shake your head as you followed behind her. There had to be a better way to get through to her. Hopefully a little one on one with Maria would still work.

Once you got back to the car, Sarah was already buckled up and didn’t even bother to greet her aunt. “That bad huh?” Maria asked, knowing that she just got the cold shoulder. 

“A week's suspension and a possible suspension from the soccer team too,” you sighed as you got in. “The principal was a real bitch. Now Joel and I need to have another meeting with her soon.”

“Well, that sucks. I know Joel isn’t going to be too happy. How about you, are you feeling okay?” She noticed you rubbing your head and taking deep breaths. 

“Yes, just have a headache coming on,” you weakly smiled. As Maria started the car, you pulled out your phone to make sure that you updated Joel. 

Hey babe, so Sarah is suspended. Got into some sort of a fight and there are some other issues that she has been having as well. I have it covered though. I’ll just have her work on some homework and do  some chores till you get home and we can discuss any further punishment. Love you!

Once you sent him the message, you leaned your head back and closed your eyes. Your day of relaxation was not going according to plan at all.

By the time that you got home, you didn’t even realize that you had dozed off. Maria had gently nudged your arm and when you opened your eyes, to your surprise, Joel was standing there by his truck waiting.

Once the car was parked, you were quick to get out and walk over to him in confusion, “Hey, what are you doing here? I thought I said I had it covered. What about the meeting?”

Joel wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug. What you didn’t see was him glaring at Sarah as she stayed back hiding behind the car. “Yeah, well none of that matters right now. I told them that Tommy was going to handle things while I attended to a family emergency.”

“Well as upset as I am, I'm glad that you are here. Let's just try to be calm about this okay. This isn’t the ideal situation for anyone right now.” You didn’t want this to become a shouting fest and end up getting nowhere.

“Fine, but I'm not very happy with her right now.” He then motioned for Sarah to come over. Sarah didn't dare look at her father as she got closer. Her eyes remained on the ground the entire time. “Living room NOW, Sarah. We'll be in shortly.” Sarah just nodded and walked inside without saying a word.

“Do you want me to leave? I can come back later when Tommy gets home,” Maria then approached. She didn’t want to overstep her bounds by hanging around. 

Joel shook his head and gave her an appreciative smile, “No you can stay and thank you for everything Maria.”

“Don't mention it. That's what family does. I can still talk to her if you guys need me too. I don't mind.”

“That would be great. I think we are going to need all the help that we can get,” you sighed as you all turned to go join Sarah.

Doing exactly what she was told, Sarah sat on the couch waiting. It broke your heart to see what was happening. All you wanted to do was take her into your arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay. 

Instead you took a seat next to her while Joel sat on the coffee table in front of her. Maria decided to sit at the bar behind in case she needed to step in. “Sarah,” Joel led off. “First off, I don't think I have to tell you how disappointed I am with you right now. We are going to sit here and talk it out. We have played enough games with you.”

“Your father is right Sarah. We have let this go on long enough. If there is something that you need to get off of your chest, go ahead and do it. I'm sure we will understand. Does it have to do with school? You seemed pretty unhappy to be there.”

Joel nodded in agreement and reached out to take her hand, “Please Sarah. I don't like seeing this side of you. The disrespect, the fighting, this isn't my little girl. Where is the happy-go-lucky, always positive daughter that usually gets after me when I’m in a bad mood? We want her back Sarah, and we can't do that unless you tell us what is wrong.”

“You don’t get it do you?” Sarah mumbled quietly and ripped her hand from Joel. “I don't want to talk about it, and I certainly don't want to talk to you about it Y/N!”

“Sarah!” Maria gasped behind you.

“Stop asking me what's wrong. Stop trying to get me to talk to you. I don’t want anything to do with you. You are NOT my mom, so stop trying to act like it!” She then got up and ran to her room, leaving all three of you behind stunned.

Joel immediately turned towards you, “Y/N doll…I…”

“No Joel, just go. You need to go be with her,” you choked out. It felt like someone stabbed you in the heart and ripped it out of you. 

“But doll…”

Maria came over around the couch and pulled you up to her, “No Joel, Y/N is right. Go to Sarah. I got this.”

“Please,” you cried into Maria's chest. 

With a hurt look on his face, Joel nodded and headed down the hall, leaving you to break down in Maria's arms. 

Storming his way down the hallway, Joel ripped the bedroom door open. “You have some nerve, Sarah Miller. What the hell was that?” Sarah just continued to sit on her bed and pulled her squish mellow closer to her. “Never in my life have I heard you say something so disrespectful. I have taught you better than that. Can't you see that she is trying her hardest here? Hell, we all are. We are really worried about you Sarah.” He then went and took a seat on her bed next to her, “I really need you to try and work with me Sarah. I’m not doing this anymore. I’m not going to lose my happiness because you are determined to make our lives miserable. I’m also too drained to yell or scream at you if that is what you are afraid of, so we are just going to sit here and talk.”

“And if I don’t want to talk?”

Joel sighed and ran his hands down his tired face, “Then we will sit here Sarah. I am prepared to do whatever it is to get through to you, even if that means just sitting here waiting. You wanted my undivided attention, while now you have it.”

Sarah finally looked up and made eye contact with her father. A tinge of guilt overcame her as she could see the disapproval on his face. “The…the fight today, it was...it was nothing dad. I just got tired of that girl running her mouth, so I did what I thought was right. I was tired of her and her friends treating me like crap. They are the biggest bullies in the school. I was only defending myself; I swear.”

“Jesus Sarah, then why didn’t you say anything? If you would have told me or Y/N that you were being bullied, we would have put an end to it. We would have gone straight to the school and talked it over with the principal.”  

“Because it would have just made things worse dad! They would have called me a snitch and made my life even worse. I’d rather just handle things myself. I don’t need my parents handling things for me. I’m not a little kid,” she huffed.

“But yet here you are acting like one Sarah. Instead of being the bigger person and saying something, you just made things worse for yourself. Now does this bullying situation have to do with how you have been acting around your mother and the whole not my mom thing? Because let’s face it Sarah, no matter what you may think, Y/N is and will always be your mother,” Joel said sternly.

Sarah stayed quiet for a second like she was pondering her answer, but eventually gave him a small nod. “Yeah, I guess.”

How could this be Y/N’s fault? “Then I need you to explain to me how this is your mother’s fault Sarah? What could she have possibly done to get you bullied at school?”

He watched as Sarah got up and walked over to her desk where she picked up a binder that had a whole bunch of family photos on the front cover. “It’s because of this dad,” she said, handing it to him. “I was in English class when that group of girls walked by and saw my binder. They asked me if that was my sister in the picture with me and you. I said no, that was my mom, and they began to make all sorts of comments. They asked if I was adopted, because I didn't look like her and that she was too pretty to be my mom. How mom must have been disappointed to have a daughter like me.” The last part caused Sarah to burst into tears.

Joel quickly took her into his arms, “Come here baby girl, I got you. Just let it out.” Oh, how much he wanted to go to the school right now and give them and those girls a piece of his mind. How dare they choose his daughter of all people to pick on! Someone was going to pay when this was all said and done. Right now, though, he had to focus all his attention on his daughter.

“Sarah baby, I need you to listen to me okay. I know for a fact that nothing that they said is true. You are a beautiful girl, and we are damn lucky to have you in our lives. They are just insecure little girls. That's why they pick on others. Their parents never taught them better.”

“But…but…it's true!” Sarah cried harder. “No matter what we say or do, Y/N will never actually be my real mom. No matter how much we both want it. I’ll always just be her step daughter. When those babies are born, they are going to be a part of you and her. I'll only be just yours, dad. I'm the odd one out.”

Joel’s heart broke as he heard the pain in his daughter's voice, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but be disappointed again with her listening to what her peers thought instead of listening to what she knew was the truth. “Now you listen, and you listen good. Blood does not mean shit. It doesn’t always make you family. So, what if you don’t have Y/N’s blood running in your veins? You know that Y/N doesn't care that biologically you aren't hers. She still loves you just as much as she loves those babies. She would die for you if she had to. If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have tried to convince me to keep our date for tomorrow, she wouldn’t have gone to the school to fight for you, and she certainly wouldn’t be in the living room with her heart broken right now. You are her little girl, Sarah. Did you know that for your birthday, she was going to give you her great grandmother’s locket? That locket has been passed down to every first born daughter and she was finally ready to give it to you and that when you have a daughter of your own, you could give it to her. I’m sorry Sarah, but I don’t think she would do all of those things if she didn’t believe that she was your mom. To me, you are the luckiest girl in the world to have her in your life Sarah. ”

Sarah listened to every word that her father said and knew that it was true, despite how she made things out to be. She knew that she should have never listened to those girls. They only wanted to cause trouble. “I'm sorry dad, I really am. I didn't mean to be a jerk to you and especially mom. I guess I just let everything get the best of me. I promise that it won't happen again.”

“Good, and if anything like this happens again, I want you to tell us so we can put an end to this. Now your punishment…”

Sarah's head shot up in disbelief, “What, I'm still being punished?”

“Oh yes you are,” Joel smiled. “You got into a fight at school today young lady.”

“Yeah, I guess that's fair. What is it?”

He got up and took her phone off of her desk, “Well you won't be needing this for a while. I'm also going to need you to unplug this computer and put it in the kitchen. If you need a computer, you can use your mom's laptop, only for homework though.”

“Okay I will. Should I apologize to mom now?”

“No, I need to go check on her first. When things calm down a bit more, then you can. I love you Sarah, but please, don't let this happen again.”

“I know dad and I won’t, I promise,” she then gave Joel a big hug before he left to check on you.

When he got back to the living room, you and Maria were nowhere to be found. Thinking that you went upstairs, he ran up only to be greeted by an empty room.

‘What the fuck?’ he thought to himself as he ran back downstairs. 

He was confused beyond hell on where you could be. That's when sitting on the kitchen counter, he saw a note waiting for him. It read:

Joel baby,

You know that I love you with all my heart and nothing is going to change that. But I think that it's for the best that I leave for the night. I don't need to be here causing added drama or tension. I never meant to do anything to make Sarah think or feel like she wasn't my daughter Joel. Just let her know that I'm sorry and if she wants to talk, I'll be there for her. I really hope that we can get past this. I love you Joel and I'll see you in the morning.

Love,

Your doll

“Son of a bitch!” Joel shouted as he crumbled up the paper in his hand. There was no way that you just did that.

“Dad, is everything okay?” Sarah asked, peeking out from her room.

“I don't know, just…just stay here. I'll be right back,” then without another word, he ran out of the house leaving a confused Sarah behind.

Like a mad man, he ran next door to his brother's house and began banging on the door, “Y/N! Y/N!” he shouted. “Please let me in. We need to talk!” He then tried to open the door, but it was locked. “Please doll, I know that you are hurting, but it's not what you think. I talked to Sarah, and we sorted this whole thing out!”

He paused for a second when he heard the lock move, however instead of you, it was an angry Maria behind the door, “Jesus Joel, will you calm down! Someone is going to call the police.”

“I'm sorry Maria, but I really need to see Y/N please. I can't believe you let her leave like that!” he snapped at her.

“Look Joel, I didn’t have a choice! After you left to be with Sarah, Y/N just broke down and began having a panic attack. I couldn’t get her to calm down. She said that she couldn't stay there and that she needed to leave. So, I helped pack her an overnight bag and brought her over. This really isn’t healthy for her or the babies Joel.”

“I know Maria and that's why I need to speak with her. I need to let her know that it's okay for her to come home now. I talked to Sarah, and everything is okay. I need her to come home, so Sarah can apologize,” Joel pleaded with her. “If she doesn’t want to come home tonight, then that's fine. I just need to explain things to her.”

Maria just gave him a sympathetic smile and hugged him, “I'm glad that you worked things out Joel, but I'm still not going to let you in. Y/N is asleep right now. She ended up not feeling well again, so I sent her to bed. Maybe when she wakes up, I'll tell her that you came for her okay. Just go home for now.”

Joel tried to reach out and stop the door from closing, but it was too late. Maria had already closed and locked it. He didn't mean to, but his emotions got the best of him, and he punched the door as hard as he could. He didn't even care if his knuckles and hand were throbbing as he walked back to his house. It was better than the ache in his heart that he was having.

When he got back, Joel found Sarah standing there with your note in her hand and tears pouring down her face. “Did she really leave dad?”

“Come here,” he called out to her and held her, “Yes, she did baby girl, but she'll be back later or in the morning. She just wasn't feeling good and went to Maria's to lie down and give us some space. Once she gets back, we can get things between you two all sorted out. I don't want this to worry you, okay. Everything is going to be fine.”

“Okay. I love you dad.” 

“I love you two baby girl. Now why don't you go to your room and work on some homework. I'll see about making us some lunch or something in a second.”

Sarah just nodded and walked back to her room feeling more guilty than before. Despite what Joel had said. Grabbing her book bag, she went to go sit at her desk and work, but that's when a turned over picture frame caught her eye. Flipping it over, she saw that it was a picture of you and her that Joel had taken at the courthouse when you officially adopted her when she was seven. 

That's when she knew what she had to do. She had to get her mom back and get things back to where they needed to be. So, hoping that Joel wouldn’t be too mad at her, Sarah opened her window and climbed out. She then nervously walked across the lawn to Maria's. However instead of heading to the front door, she tried the guest room window first to see if you were in there.

Thankfully there you were asleep on the bed with a cold compress on your head. Taking a deep breath, Sarah nervously tapped on the window hoping you would stir. It took a couple of attempts, but after the third or fourth try, you finally woke up and pulled the compress off your eyes.

Rolling over, you looked towards the window and Sarah was staring at you. “What the heck?” you said out loud as you got up and went over to the window. “Sarah, wh-what are you doing here?”

“Hey mom, can we talk?”   

[gracethyomen]

Babies. Logan Howlett.

Logan and his girlfriend have been trying for a baby…

Warnings: Angst angst… Infertility, mention of child loss and pregnancy loss, mention of pregnancy, pregnancy tests, hurt, no real comfort. Lab testing, fertility struggles, talk of reproductive systems, sadness, longing.

special thanks to @a-leg-without-fear and @justvalkyrie for fueling my angsty obsession with this idea for the whole week ily guys sm…

“It's going to be negative." She whispered softly, turning her back from his chest to bury her face against his soft shirt.

"We don't know that." His low voice rumbled in response, one calloused hand lifting to run a hand down her head, stroking her hair gently.

"I can't look at it, Logan." She squeezed his waist, squinting her eyes shut. "Can you look? Please?" She begged him quietly and he eyed the clock before nodding solemnly, picking up the plastic wand from the bathroom counter and holding it up so he could see it.

14 tests. 14 tests. One every month. Over a year since they'd started religiously tracking cycles and days and fertility... With no results.

15. 15 tests.

He gently put the test back down, freeing his arms to wrap around her body as she started to shake with quiet tears, already guessing what he was going to say. "No." He whispered, pressing his nose to the top of her head as he tried to stop his own tears from falling.

"God..." She choked against his chest and he squeezed her tighter, holding her through the pain. "I don't know why i'm crying-" She wiggled her arms free to try and wipe her tears but he stopped her, cupping both her cheeks in his large hands.

"It's okay." He murmured, not soothing but reassuring... She understood what he was saying. It's okay to cry. To be sad. It's okay to feel crushed.

"I should be used to it by now-" She insisted, swiping at her face hastily and clearing her throat before she picked up the test, staring at it for a long moment, lower lip wobbling... Before it fell with a soft thunk into the trash can.

"Hey, look at me." He urged her, watching her turn to face him but not quite meet his eyes. "Look at me." Finally, she looked at him, her eyes wet and a little red at the corners. "We're gonna do this. You and me. I don't care what we have to do or how long it takes." He pressed his forehead against hers, sighing lowly. "We'll keep trying."

"I have to get to class-" She shook her head, stepping out of his arms. "We're doing a lab today I don't want the kids alone with the chemicals."

"Honey..." He trailed off as she swept out of the room, rubbing a hand down his face before looking down at the plastic test sticking out of the trash bin. "Dammit." He muttered hoarsely to himself, sitting down on the edge of the tub with a long, slow sigh.

"Hello, Logan..." Charles trailed off as Logan stepped closer, eyes softening. "Oh, Logan... I'm so sorry." The Professor rolled slightly towards him, rounding his desk.

"Don't do that." He responded bluntly, landing in the uncomfortable armchair as he watched the elderly man come closer. "I need to ask you for a favor."

"What is it?" Charles asked, folding his hands neatly in his lap while he waited for Logan to speak.

"I need you to have Hank take a look at me." He forced out, cringing internally at the image of Hank studying his... Specimen... That he would no doubt have to submit. "See if there's something wrong, something we can do-"

"These things take time, Logan. I'm sure there's nothing wrong." The Professor interjected, trying to soothe him.

"We've given it time, Charles." Logan shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Fifteen months and nothing. I just need-" He broke off. "I need to know if this will work for us."

Charles hummed under his breath, pondering his friend's words. "I'll ask Hank what he can do. He's not a fertility specialist but he may have an idea of what to look for." He looked Logan up and down. "As much as i'm sure there's nothing wrong... you have to prepare yourself for both outcomes in this situation."

Logan looked at the man, eyes full of guarded emotion. "I need to do this. I need to be able to do this. For her, for us." He swallowed, hard. "This is the one thing she wants the most... I need to be able to give that to her."

"And what do you want, Logan?" Charles arched a brow.

The Wolverine had never looked more defeated. More determined, than he did when he answered him. Not with words, but in his mind. His desires. A deep longing that went beyond words and could only be communicated by feel.

“I’ll tell Hank to expect you.”

Almost an hour later, Logan finally handed in his “cup” to the azure doctor. Both men avoiding any kind of eye contact. The exchange happened quickly in an awkward silence, filled by the sound of Hank coughing as he took the sealed container with him.

“I’ll have a look at these-“ He promised. still not quite looking at Logan.

Logan watched as Hank worked, taking note of his reactions to everything he saw, the change in his scent… Unfortunately the man was a consummate professional and schooled his face and body into complete relaxation.

Three hours after that, Hank finally printed a few sheets from his laptop. The sound of the printer spitting out the papers was jarring in the previous near-silence of the room. With a soft clearing of his throat Hank went to pick up the papers and sat down in his chair, spinning it to face Logan.

“Bring her down.”

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

“Just call her down.”

“Logan, the adamantium fused to your skeleton is obviously going to affect your body.” Hank sighed, removing his glasses. “It’s why we don’t use cobalt for hip replacements anymore, too many cases of it causing side effects.”

“So is there something wrong with him?” Logan looked at her briefly when she spoke. Holding his hand in her lap and rubbing her thumb across it gently. “Is he okay?” Warmth and uncertainty spread through his chest. A double edged sword for what was to come.

“So far his mutation has kept the metal from damaging his vital functions…” Hank hedged. “But for how long I can’t tell. It’s a slow moving condition… But it has had some unsavory side effects.”

Logan swallowed hard, refusing to look away from the doctor. “Say it, Hank.”

Hank took a moment, shuffling the papers in his lap. “Your sperm count is low, Logan. Very low. What few you do have are… damaged.”

“What does that mean?” She asked, clearing her throat. “Damaged?” Logan squeezed her hand softly, nodding at her to let Hank continue.

“They’re not quite formed correctly. I’ve seen similar sperm counts in cancer patients living in remission. Like radiation, it seems the metal in your blood has not allowed your body to make healthy sperm.” Hank coughed softly. “Even on the slim chance fertilization could occur- assisted or otherwise -the zygote would not develop far past conception.” Logan watched his love’s lip start to wobble just a little in his periphery, the movement near imperceptible. “I’m so sorry, Logan. But unfortunately, you are effectively sterile.”

The silence that hung in the room felt suffocating, the three of them sitting in the unnatural stillness for long moments before Hank stood, his stool screeching loudly on the tile floor.

“I’ll tell Xavier you both have the rest of this week off.” He dipped his head, laying a comforting hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Take some time. It’s a lot to process.”

Hank left the room, and the sound of the door shutting was followed by soft sobs.

That silence that came after Hank told them the news followed them both into their shared suite. It hung over their heads while they brushed their teeth and crawled into their bed. When Logan rolled on his side to pull her into his arms, burying his face into her neck.

“I’m so sorry.” She choked out, a quiet sob escaping her throat. “Logan, i’m so sorry.”

His brows furrowed and he rolled her over so she was facing him. “I should be saying that…”

“No.” She lifted both her hands to his face, “This isn’t your fault. It’s not. This was done to you, Logan… We can get through this.”

He swallowed and leaned his forehead to rest against hers. There was that silence again. Filled this time by her soft crying and his own breathing as tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. “I…” He took a deep breath. “I wanted it. So bad.” He admitted into the secret cave between their bodies, letting his heart break in the safety of her arms. That dream floating away like a cobweb on the air. “It kills me that… That I can’t give us a baby.”

“I know.” She breathed, eyes closing against her tears. “I wanted it too. It kills me that I can’t do this for us.”

“You can.” Logan pointed out, pulling one of her hands down to his chest so it pressed against his heart. “I can’t.”

“I won’t.” She insisted. “Not without you. You’re not broken, Logan.” She squeezed their joined fingers over his heart. “I wouldn’t change you. Not for anything.”

“Not even-“

Silence. That painful, suffocating silence. Then…

“No.”

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Healing together

Hii, I hope you enjoy this story. Before you begin reading, I want to make something very clear: in no way am I romanticizing mental health problems. I understand how serious these issues are, and my intention is not to glamorize or trivialize them in any way.

My goal with this story is to bring attention to mental health, to encourage understanding and empathy, and to show that these struggles are real and valid.

Lando is tired, tired of everyone being on his business, of dating rumours of him appearing every week, of comparing himself to his colleagues, or even when he is surrounded by people still feeling alone.

That's why his visits to his psychologist have risen these last months, but he feels better after them not only for the medical help he is receiving but because of them Lando feels as if he has found a source of happiness in the less expected place.

Lando walked out of his psychologist’s office, feeling a little lighter than when he’d walked in. The sessions had been tough lately, but he could feel them slowly chipping away at the heaviness weighing on him for so long. Today was no different. He had spoken about his fears, his frustrations, and the intense scrutiny he felt under the constant watch of the media and fans. His psychologist had listened intently, offering guidance and strategies to help him cope. It wasn't an immediate fix, but it helped. As he turned the corner in the narrow hallway leading to the building’s exit, he suddenly collided with someone, almost knocking them over.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, reaching out instinctively to steady the person he’d bumped into. His hands brushed against a woman's arm, and he quickly drew back, embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” she replied with a soft smile, smoothing out the crease on her sweater. Lando noticed the sparkle in her eyes, the gentle way she carried herself. She was around his age, and there was something about her that made him pause. “I should have been paying more attention,” she continued, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks.

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Lando said, smiling back. He felt a strange flutter in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just startled,” she laughed lightly. “I’m here for an appointment,” she added, nodding towards the door Lando had just exited.

Lando recognized her. She had been in the waiting room a few times when he arrived for his sessions. They had exchanged polite nods before, but they had never spoken. There was something about her that intrigued him—a quiet presence that seemed to draw him in, even in the brief moments they shared in passing.

“Same here. I mean, I was just here for one,” Lando responded, feeling a bit awkward but curious about her. "I'm Lando," he introduced himself, offering his hand with a friendly grin.

"I'm Y/N," she replied, shaking his hand.

Lando nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement in his chest. "Nice to officially meet you, Y/N."

From that day on, their encounters in the waiting room became a highlight of Lando's visits. They started talking more, sharing little bits about their lives. He learned that Y/N was an artist, her world filled with colours and canvases, while she learned about his passion for racing and his struggles with the spotlight. He found solace in their conversations, a break from the chaos of his life.

Between visits, Lando found himself thinking about Y/N more and more. Her laugh, her kindness, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved. She was different from anyone he had ever met, and he found himself looking forward to their brief moments together, the connection they shared growing stronger with each passing day.

One day, after a particularly challenging race weekend, Lando walked into the psychologist's office, his thoughts swirling with frustration and disappointment. But as soon as he saw Y/N sitting there, his mood lifted. She was sketching something in her notebook, her focus intense.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted, sliding into the seat next to her.

Y/N looked up, her face brightening when she saw him. "Hey, Lando. How did the race go?"

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not great, honestly. But seeing you here makes it a bit better." He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N blushed slightly, a smile tugging at her lips. "Thanks. I'm glad I can help, even if it's just a little."

Over the next few weeks, Lando's feelings for Y/N grew. He admired her strength, her resilience, and the way she approached life with a quiet courage that inspired him. And as he got to know her better, he realized he wanted to be more than just a friend to her.

It was after a particularly good race that Lando finally decided to take a leap. He had won, and the high of victory was still coursing through his veins as he walked into the psychologist's office, hoping to see Y/N.

To his delight, she was there, sitting in her usual spot, her face lighting up when she saw him. "Hey, Lando! I heard about the race. Congratulations!" she said, her excitement genuine.

"Thanks, Y/N," Lando said, his heart racing as he gathered the courage to say what he'd been thinking about for weeks. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Y/N's smile faltered slightly, her eyes flickering with a hint of apprehension. "Oh? What is it?"

Lando took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. This was it—the moment he had been building up to ever since he first met her. "I was wondering… would you like to go out with me sometime? Like, on a date?"

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, and for a long, agonizing moment, she was silent. Lando's stomach twisted, anxiety gnawing at him as he wondered if he had misread all the signs. Had he pushed too far, too fast?

Finally, Y/N spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Lando, I… I really like you, but…"

"But what?" he asked gently, his brow furrowing in concern. Her hesitation made his heart clench, his mind racing through every possible reason she might be pulling away.

Y/N looked down at her hands, her fingers nervously twisting together. Her eyes were shadowed with fear, a fear she had tried so hard to keep hidden. "I come here because… I'm scared of falling in love. I’ve been hurt before, and I don’t want to get my heart broken again. I… I didn’t expect to feel this way about anyone, especially not you."

Her confession hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of her past. Lando’s chest tightened, his heart aching for her. He could see how much it cost her to say those words, to admit to the pain that still lingered in her heart.

Lando reached out, his fingers gently brushing against hers before he took her hand, holding it tenderly in his. "I understand, Y/N," he said softly, his voice filled with empathy. "I know how it feels to be scared, to worry that opening up will just lead to more hurt. But I promise you, I would never intentionally hurt you. If you give me a chance, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never feel that way again."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears she was trying so hard to hold back. There was a wariness in her gaze, a deep-seated fear of letting herself believe in the possibility of something good, something real. "You really mean that?"

"I do," Lando replied earnestly, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand. "I like you a lot, Y/N. More than I thought possible. And I think we could be great together. But I don’t want to rush you or push you into anything you’re not ready for."

Y/N's breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She wanted to believe him, to trust in his words and in the warmth she felt whenever he was near. But the scars of her past were still fresh, the fear of falling only to be caught by nothing but empty air still too real. She bit her lip, trying to steady herself.

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat as she tried to find the courage to let herself take this leap. Her heart pounded in her chest, torn between the desire to protect herself and the yearning to let herself hope again. As she looked into Lando's eyes, she saw the sincerity there, the raw, unguarded emotion that he had laid bare for her.

And despite the fear, despite the voice in her head screaming at her to pull back, to protect herself, she felt a spark of something else—a small, fragile spark of courage. A tiny flame of hope that maybe, just maybe, this could be something different. Something worth risking her heart for.

"Okay," she said finally, her voice trembling with the weight of her decision. She squeezed his hand, holding on to him as if he were the lifeline she needed. "I'll give it a go. But please… be patient with me. I’m scared, Lando. Really scared."

Lando's face softened, his expression one of tender understanding. "I promise, Y/N. I’ll be here, every step of the way. We’ll take it slow, as slow as you need. One step at a time, okay?"

Y/N nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek as she let herself believe, just for a moment, that maybe she didn’t have to face her fears alone. "One step at a time."

And as they sat there, hand in hand, their fingers intertwined, they both felt a surge of something new—something that was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. It wasn’t just about the promise of a date or the thrill of new romance; it was about finding comfort and courage in each other, about taking a chance on something that might just heal the wounds they both carried.

Together, they were ready to face whatever came next, one tentative, hopeful step at a time.