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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 month

Text

ROOM FOR RENT

PAIRING: logan howlett x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 5.3k

SUMMARY: logan finds a new roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕

WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.

Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--

Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.

Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.

He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.

"Hello?"

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"

"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"

"How much is it?"

"Your half would be $950.”

"And it's a whole bedroom?"

"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."

"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."

"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"

"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.

"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"

"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."

"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"

"Just tell me, I'll remember."

After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.

No results.

You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.

No results.

You try spelling his name differently.

No results.

You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.

A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.

"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.

He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.

Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.

Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.

"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.

"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"

Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."

"My what?"

"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"

"No," Logan grunts.

"A cold date, then?"

Logan pinches his nose. "No."

"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"

"The who?"

"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.

"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.

"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"

"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."

"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."

"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.

"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."

Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.

"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.

You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.

Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

"Hi! You must be--“

Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.

"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.

"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."

You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.

"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"

"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."

"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"

"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."

"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."

"Dumpling?"

As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.

"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."

Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.

"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”

"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"

"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.

"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."

"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"

Were you?

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."

Having a roommate is...an adjustment.

Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.

But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.

Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.

"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bub?"

"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"

He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.

"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"

"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"

A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.

"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.

"I don't see it."

"It's the bone structure."

"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."

Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.

It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.

That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.

Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.

He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.

It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.

Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.

Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Dumpling meows in return.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.

"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"

Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.

You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--

Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.

"Morning," he says.

"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"

"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.

"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.

You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.

Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.

"Shut up," you whisper to him.

Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.

You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.

"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.

"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."

Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.

"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"

"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"

Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.

"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"

"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"

"Ouch!"

"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"

"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."

Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.

"Get out," he growls.

"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"

"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?

"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."

"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.

"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."

You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you should be doing."

His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.

"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"But I could," he bites back.

"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.

Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.

You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.

"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.

His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.

You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.

"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."

"Do what?" you tease.

"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."

You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.

"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."

You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.

"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.

"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."

He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.

You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.

"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"

He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."

You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.

You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Just getting started."

Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.

You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.

"Scared yet?" he asks.

"I wouldn't say that.”

He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.

"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."

Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.

He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.

Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"

You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.

"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.

"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.

In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.

"Please," you murmur.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."

"Need you to fuck me."

Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.

"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."

You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.

He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.

Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.

"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.

Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.

"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.

"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.

You've got better things to do right now.

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x female reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fanfic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett fic

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celestiamour · 2 months

Text

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ it's a gift (you keep those) ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ giving him a plushie that reminded you of him┊1k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: fluff, crushes, probably ooc but he’s so cute & wade is hard to write for, written for dp&w logan so idk if he got gifts in xmen, i forgot about laura, they are in touch and have a wonderful father-daughter relationship, i’m so sorry, edited

➤ author's note: i have so many thoughts but too incompetent to write

logan’s never sure who will appear when he opens the door as wade’s quite the extrovert, either vanessa or one of his many other friends whom he’s now become somewhat acquainted with, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet the familiar eyes of the cute neighbor who lived a few doors down. he nervously scratched the back of his head, suddenly becoming aware of his shabby appearance, “uh, are you looking for wade?”

“no, i was actually looking for you!” god, your smile is so bright, it’s blinding. he normally hates perfume of any sort as it’s so overpowering to his heightened senses, but the one that you wore smelled so lovely like always. is that a new shade of lip gloss you’re wearing? it really suits you. (why on earth is he noticing all of these details out of the blue? he needs to snap out of whatever spell you put on him after being introduced when he first showed up and only interacting in passing since then).

“looking for me?” he repeated, in disbelief, trying his best not to allow his surprise to slip into his voice. considering he isn’t from this dimension and not the most agreeable person to be around, he had no friends of his own yet and hasn’t been visited by anyone since he got here. a beat of panic struck him, thinking that he was in trouble for something and you came to complain. he really couldn’t think of any other reason you were here for him even though you were so cheerful.

you were carrying some shopping bags with you, dropping them on the ground before reaching into one and pulling out a large fuzzy plushie of a gray cat hidden under layers of glittery tissue paper, “i saw this cutie when i went shopping with my friends and thought it looked like you!” you held it out for him to take, looking so proud of the stuffed animal.

he hesitated for a second before accepting it, trying to take in the fact that you were reminded of him in your day-to-day life. it made his heart flutter, and he found himself dumbfounded by the feeling. he was frequently teased by his roomate about his little “crush” on you, claiming that it was oh so obvious and that the sooner he accepted it, the better, but he never realized until now how pathetic he was when it came to you. was the wolverine really getting butterflies like a fucking schoolgirl in his old-ass age? thank god no one was home right now to bully him about it, he would never hear the end of it.

“it does not look like me,” he scoffed playfully after a quick examination.

“no, it definitely does! it’s a big, grumpy kitty—” you took a step closer to hold it with him, pointing at all the similarities you observed, although it was clear you were exaggerating for laughs. “see the little frowny face and ears? it could be your identical twin separated from birth! willy mentioned that you act like a cat most of the time, and i think it fits perfectly!”

the smile he didn’t realize was plastered on his face faltered at the last piece of information, grateful that you didn’t notice. that idiot has been talking about him to you? he might as well forget about any chance of getting with you, because knowing how he yaps without a filter and loves to play matchmaker, you probably think he’s a freak of some sort. “only good things, i hope…”

you giggled, the sweetest sound he ever heard. “of course, he’s really fond of you… well, maybe a bit too fond, but you already know about that!” you opened your mouth to continue the conversation or say something else, but your phone started ringing and you excused yourself, looking a little shy as you grabbed up your bags. “i’ll talk to you later!” you sounded so excited about the prospect of it before leaving, your voice and footsteps becoming fainter as you walked back to your place.

“wait, you didn’t take back the cat—”

“it’s a gift! you keep those!”

“oh… right…”

he lingered for a moment, unable to say much in response since you left in such a rush. when was the last time someone gave him a present? staring at this brand new item, he still couldn’t see the resemblance in any way, but knowing that it was a gift from you gave him a rare feeling of happiness which returned every time he looked at it from then on among his few possessions.

“oh my goodness, what is this adorable thing?!” wade exclaimed when he saw it sitting on the couch where logan slept, picking it up to gawk at before tossing it up in the air and catching it before it hit the floor. “ooh, let me guess, it’s a gift from her, isn’t it?”

the mutant groaned at his mocking tone. “put it down before you ruin it with your grubby hands,” he commanded, snatching it from his grasp (rough enough to make his point clear, but carefully enough not to tear it apart). his roommate didn’t even bother pretending to be offended like he usually would as he was simply overjoyed that his “ship” was coming true. “it doesn’t mean anything, don’t make it weird.”

“it doesn’t mean anything?! how can you say that when it’s going to be the first gift you give to your first child together—”

“first what??”

“nevermind, what are you gonna name it?”

“i have to name it?”

“have you never owned a stuffed animal before? you have to name it! how heartbroken is she going to be when she asks what you named it and you say that you haven’t done that?! she’s gonna think that you don’t value her gifts!” you would think the world was going to end if he didn’t do so if you heard the way he was speaking.

“fine, i’ll name it…” he looked deeply into the toy’s soulless eyes, noting how soft the outer material was against his calloused hand, “... fluffy…”

“that’s such a shitty name—”

“shut the fuck up, it’s been decided.”

#📜. her works #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #wolverine x reader #hugh jackman #x men #x men x reader #marvel #marvel x reader

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lxvebun · 5 months

Text

A millennium of unsaid I love you's

Synopsis: love is the most twisted curse of all. Yuuji wonders if it's twisted enough to have even Sukuna in its grip.

Content: Sukuna x gender neutral reader. Fluff+little angst. Lovesick!sukuna, I repeat, Lovesick!Sukuna he's so in love with you it shows in everything he does!! Mentions of character death but its open for you to decide. Slight mention of canon violence. Around 1k words♡ eng is not my first language, lmk if there are any annoying mistakes♡♡

"Have you ever been in love?" Yuuji wonders out loud, not necessarily expecting a serious answer. It's a little past midnight if he's reading the blurry red numbers on the digital clock correctly, and despite sleep clouding over his eyes, he can't seem to find rest. Blankets are carelessly kicked to the edge of the bed in an effort to relieve himself from the summer heat but it doesn't do much to help him ease into that sleepy state either.

(Talking to Sukuna seemed a lot more interesting than counting sheep)

The question hangs in the air for a moment, silence twists around it like a vine, and just before it completely swallows it up, the answer floats across his mind similar to a thought but eerily spoken in a different voice.

"Yes"

It's said quietly, almost as if trying to maintain the tranquility of the summer night, but this is Sukuna we're talking about. He doesn't take others into consideration. There's something else that keeps him from voicing his answers out loud.

(Perhaps it's the way he can't talk about you without sounding like a love-sick devotee)

"How!?" Yuuji blurts out before thinking, not realizing the question is rather rude until a sharp flash of pain surges through his body, a little corrective behavior sent from Sukuna, no doubt. "Sorry, sorry. I just didn't expect it, that's all.

It's quiet for a bit. Yuuji takes the time to admire the stars and moonlight shining through the sliver of the curtains. It feels like the moon is extra radiant tonight as it spills a wonderful illuminative light across the room.

"I don't know"

There's not much he doesn't know, but to this day it's still a miracle to him that you weaved yourself so effortlessly into his very being. Managing to do so without an ounce of resistance from him. Partly believing you were some kind of heavenly punishment sent to bring the king of curses to his knees. To rid the world of a darkness that never should have existed in the first place.

(He'd let you)

"I just was"

There's another part of him that theorizes that maybe you were something that remained of his human self. A soulmate to complete his when his soul wasn't half as dark and twisted as it is now. Born from the same star, hearts carved from the same moon. A red string binds you to him, regardless of the form he takes. How cruel of fate to tie you to a monster and keep it that way.

Quietness tunes back in as Yuuji's thoughts drift elsewhere. For a second, Sukuna thinks he's done with his late-night interrogation.

"What were they like?"

He's not indulging Yuuji, really. But his heart beats back a little warmth into his soul every time he thinks of you. Every time he thinks of your voice, how his name sounded so syrupy and sweet falling from your lips, a stark contrast to how it's usually uttered.

Every time he thinks of your touch, how you always handled him with a gentleness he probably doesn't deserve. As if under all the scars and cursed markings he was made of the most delicate porcelain. Even when you were angry, it never bled violence into your touch.

Gods, your entire being shined so brightly he could pick you out from among the stars. You dug yourself into his chest, ripped out his darkened heart oh so deliciously, and buried yourself in its place. As if you always belonged there.

Just thinking of you stains his mouth all too sweetly, a millennium of unsaid I love you's building up in the back of his throat. He swallows it down.

"They were beautiful" he speaks aloud this time, voice booming around the room. Yuuji flinches a little at the intrusion "And that's enough of your questions tonight, brat"

"Just one more, please"

.....

Yuuji takes the silence as compliance.

"Are they gone?" He puts it into softer terms. Sukuna's a little annoyed at the consideration.

He doesn't know... and he's not sure what hurts more, being oblivious to your fate, or assuming that you have passed. Surely, Uraume would have taken care of you. Then again, are they even around still? A dullness grows in his chest, splinters its way through his ribs, and weighs down into his lungs suffocatingly so at the uneasiness of not knowing.

Looking through Yuuji's eyes, he catches a glint of a star beaming down into the split in the curtain. Shining an ethereal light so brightly he has to avert his gaze.

( he could pick you out amongst the stars. He refuses to believe it's you)

The ache lessens again as the starlight seems to clear his head. You're bound to him by a string of fate, there's not a single universe out there where you're not with him. Even if it's cruel of fate to do so, even if those thousand years apart have turned him into someone almost unrecognizable. You'll be together again. Perhaps your soul is just waiting for the right moment to appear.

"they'll be back" is all he says, and the finality in his tone urges Yuuji to keep his mouth shut despite the whirlwind of questions still racing through his mind. Memories that don't belong to him flicker through Yuujis's mind as Sukuna seems to dream off. They're blurry and foggy and disappear all too quickly for him to make sense of what he's seeing, but he can feel the overwhelming presence of love dripping from the edges. He doesn't question why his heart starts to race too.

Sukuna has been a rot in his side from day one. but if there ever exists an opportunity to save everyone, if he could give him his happy ending should you come back, he thinks he'll grant it to him.

Thank you for reading angels!!♡ i had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you enjoyed this too!

#jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #sukuna fluff #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x gn reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #sukuna x gender neutral reader #soft sukuna #jujustu kaisen #jjk

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amethystwrytes · 1 month

Text

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.

#skz fanfiction #Lee know fanfiction #skz smut #lee know smut #Lee Minho #skz romance #Lee know romance #Lee Know x reader #fanfiction #stray kids

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imyourbratzdoll · 5 months

Note

I crave a good fluffy fic with wolverine, his wife is a badass and when someone threatens him she loses her shit and kicks their ass🫡 with so much disrespect.

hey baby, I'm so sorry for taking so long! I hope you enjoy what I did, it's a bit more violent than you probably wanted.

summary - a dumb 'bad guy' lures you and your husband out, things take an escalated turn when he threatens your husband.

warning - SUPER violent, like extreme level probably, swearing, mentions of sex, dude talks of touching what's his but nothing triggering, dick and balls suffer rip.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You couldn’t believe this guy, he was really threatening your husband right in front of you. Thinking he was all tough because he could throw fire or some shit? You didn’t know what he could do, except talk a lot of shit. That was probably his power. What was his name again? Captain Talks Shit? Shits A lot? Little Fucker? Who cares, all you care about right now is that he’s threatening your man.

You walk out of the shadows, having heard enough because honestly. Why do the bad guys always talk for so long? Have none of them realised or picked up from past bad guys mistakes? It was tiring and a waste of your time because you and Logan could’ve been gone by now, screwing each other silly, probably somewhere extremely risky. But, noooo. You had to listen to this jackass.

“Listen, dick licker. If you don’t stop threatening my fucking husband. I’m going to rip your arm off and beat you with it.” You growl, moving to stand in front of Logan. (Sure, he would have protected himself and it may look weak to the other guy that a woman is standing in front of an extremely large man, in more ways than one, wink wink. But you happen to know that this turns your husband on and who are you to deny him his fantasies?)

“Is that a threat?” Captain Dipshit sneers.

“Did it sound like a fucking compliment, Princess?” You watch as he eyes you, sizing you up and in his mind he’s probably thinking ‘yeah, I can take this chick.’ You hope his ego deflates before you kill him.

“Listen, Babe. This is between us men, now why don’t you run along and go make us a sandwich or something. Maybe put on some cute lingerie and wait for me in the bedroom ‘cause once I’m done with your husband here. You’ll be creamin’ around me.”

Logan shakes his head, stepping way back. He remembered when he accidentally said something similar and he was in a coma for a whole month, not even his fast healing could help him.

It was like a switch turning on, the beast that lived within you had been released from its cage and not even God could save this man now. You stalked towards him, he still smirked thinking he was safe. You jump, wrapping your legs around his neck and twisting, bringing him down using a move your good friend Natasha had taught you. You move swiftly while he is down, sending a harsh kick to his face, hearing the satisfying crack of his nose and possibly jaw breaking. You grab him by his hair and lift him, a large grin covering your face as you bring him eye level with you.

“You wanna repeat that, Princess?” You bring him closer, whispering in his ear. “How bout you go make me a sandwich, put on a cute set and I’ll bash your dick in with a baseball bat. How do ya like the sound of that? Cause I love it.”

He struggles within your grip, trying to swing at you but with your other hand that isn’t gripping his hair. You snap his arms, relishing in the sound of bones breaking. His screams echo the warehouse, dumbarse had lured us in here without a backup plan or backup.

You let go of your grip on his hair, immediately switching to gripping his throat instead. “You don’t like my plan, Princess? Rethinking the whole thing? Cause ya already pissed me off by threatening the man I love, but then you had the balls to say THAT? Tell me, Princess. Just between us girls. Did mummy not give you any hugs as a kid? Cause how did you think this was gonna go? You could’ve ‘killed’ the Wolverine, but he wouldn’t have stayed dead. No. But if he heard you touching me, touching what’s HIS. He would’ve torn you to shreds, but slowly. Very slowly. It’s what makes me love him.” You pat the man’s cheek, grinning as he winces.

“How bout an apology and I won’t kill you.”

“F–fuck you.” He spits at you, SPITS. Not even clear fucking spit, this shit has blood in it. You lift your hand, wiping the spit with the back of it and then onto his clothes.

Your face screwed up. “Well, that was stupid.” With quick movements, you throw him, watching him crash into a wall so hard that it leaves a dent. Your hand reaches out and a bat flies into it. “You’re not wearing that cute set and I don’t have a sandwich, but this will do.” He tries to shuffle away, his eyes wide. You stalk toward him and swing, smashing his dick and balls with one hit. Think Superman merged with Hulk strength, how do you think his twig and berries did?

A scream rips out of his mouth before his eyes roll back and he falls backwards. You frown and poke him with your bat. “Hey mista, you dead?” You look at Logan, “Bitch passed out.” He shakes his head at the pout on your lips.

He walks over and places a kiss on your head, “C’mon, let’s go home now or better yet. You ready to do something real risky, Sweets.” Your eyes light up.

“Do you mean…?!”

Logan nods, smirking. “I’ll finally let you fuck me while I drive.” Your squeals escape as you jump into his arms, smothering his face with kisses.

“OH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! You’re the best husband a woman could ask for!” And with that, Logan carries you out as you stare at him dreamily.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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thef1diary · 5 months

Text

Baby Jr | Three

— Salacious Daydreaming

Series Masterlist

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

warnings: 18+ smut, bj, allusions to unprotected sex (don’t do that)

wc: 3.1k

You were the only one remaining in the meeting room, taking down last-minute notes, when you heard someone step in and close the door, drawing your attention to them. It was Carlos.

With a swift stride, he approached you, yanking your chair away from the table. He tilted your chin upwards, and placed his lips on yours. You didn't have time to say anything; only a gasp escaped your lips before your eyes closed and you instinctively wrapped your arms around him. While you remained seated in the chair, his own palms moved down your sides and he tightened his hold around your waist before lifting you up.

Carlos' lips remained on yours, claiming each gasp and moan that left your mouth, muffling the sounds for any potential listeners outside. Briefly losing yourself amidst his kisses, you were startled by the clattering sounds of the items falling to the ground that were once on the table. Carlos cleared your belongings to make room on the table before setting you down on it.

He pecked your lips again and then began to back away, causing a whine to escape your mouth. Your palms immediately clasped his cheeks, luring him in for another kiss. He chuckled at your antics, but still followed along. Attaching your lips together until you lost your breath to the point of potential dizziness, yet you would gladly give it up again and again just to become intoxicated by his kisses.

Carlos kneeled down in front of you, causing you to instantly spread your legs, placing one foot on the table's edge while your palm tangled in his hair.

You wrinkled your brows, unable to hear a word that came out of his mouth as he gazed up at you and said something. Then, you heard your name, but it wasn't spoken by Carlos.

You quickly blinked a few times after feeling a palm shake you by your shoulder and you realized that you weren't in a conference room with Carlos but rather with your regular media team amidst a meeting. You were thinking about Carlos even though he wasn't physically there.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?" you asked and scanned over everyone for a brief moment, not knowing who actually spoke.

"Are you feeling alright?" One of your closest colleagues, Ava, asked instead.

You nodded, refraining from responding verbally while clenching your thighs together. Your cheeks had heated up in shame over having zoned out in the middle of the conference for the first time ever, but also due to the specific scenario you were envisioning in your daydream.

The meeting resumed as normal, with another member repeating her words from earlier.

"As I was saying..."

You tried to focus on her words, but your gaze focused on Carlos who was walking alongside Charles just outside of the room.

You believed that he could feel your gaze because he stopped walking and looked through the glass doors, easily spotting you inside. You were no longer paying attention to the meeting as soon as he made direct eye contact with you.

He raised his brows in question, wanting to know the thoughts running through your mind while sitting in a meeting, especially since your gaze on him remained unwavering. The corner of his lips turned up in a smirk, a little egotistical once he realized that all your attention was for him and only him.

Charles' didn't notice the little staring contest going on between you and Carlos since he was still sharing the latest piece of gossip he had heard earlier from Pierre. Similar to you, nothing that left his mouth was heard by Carlos.

His attention remained on you, disregarding his teammate completely. Carlos winked after he gently jerked his head in the direction of the corridor from which he had come, trying to communicate nonverbally.

In response, you furrowed your eyebrows briefly before raising them in confusion. He playfully rolled his eyes, and glanced at Charles to check if he was paying attention but saw him smiling while texting on his phone.

Again, rolling his eyes at his teammates' antics, Carlos looked at you. This time, he pointed his finger at you, then beckoned you to come closer.

Your eyes widened and you began shaking your head before stopping and thinking about the possible consequences of leaving a meeting in the middle, something you had never done before.

Fortunately, no one was sitting across from you which meant you had a clear view of Carlos. However, Ava was sitting next to you, which meant that she also had a clear view of Carlos.

She watched the silent conversation you attempted to have with him but she didn't understand a single thing. Instead, she nudged you again, quickly gaining your attention this time.

"What's going on?" She asked, her gaze moving between you and Carlos.

"Nothing, why?" You were tempted to shift your sight back towards Carlos, but didn't want to bring unwanted attention from anyone else.

"You don't look well, are you sure you're fine?" Ava muttered quietly enough, leaning closer towards you.

Resting your head against her shoulder, you sighed. This was the perfect moment to leave considering you also had a proper excuse, and you were beginning to contemplate it.

Your decision was made once you saw Carlos, in your peripheral vision, leaning against the wall outside the door by himself, waiting for you.

"Maybe I don't feel too well," you whispered. Lifting your head, you looked at Ava, "do you think I could leave?"

"Maybe she'll let it go, since you never left abruptly like this," she shrugged. You turned to look at Silvia, your supervisor, who was in charge of the meeting. You didn't even pay attention to when the slideshow presentation she was delivering began, so as you saw it, your eyes widened.

You realized Ava wasn't incorrect after giving her words some thought. She was unaware, though, that you were merely lying to her about your health and that Carlos was the true reason you wanted to leave. The fact that the conference was boring didn't make matters any better.

"Any questions before we continue?" Silvia's voice cut through your thoughts. She gazed at everyone one by one. Once her gaze landed on you, you fanned yourself exaggeratedly and pointed at the door.

Although she furrowed her brows for a moment since she couldn't see out the door from her standpoint, she nodded, allowing you to leave.

Nodding your head in acknowledgement, you began gathering your items to leave. "I'll come check on you later and give you the rundown of the entire meeting," Ava stated.

"The entire meeting? I was here for at least half of it," you muttered back a response, trying to remain quiet since the meeting continued.

"You were barely focused, now go before you distract me too."

However, as soon as you left the conference room, Carlos was nowhere to be seen. Shaking your head at his antics, you began walking down the hallway he pointed at earlier.

Once you reached the end of the hallway, a hand pulled you over to the right; Carlos. He pressed you against the wall, caging you in between as his hands rested flat beside your head.

"Hi," he muttered, his gaze always watchful, but a tad bit softer this time as he admired you.

With your lips turning up in a smile, you pressed your hands against his chest but without any intent to push him away. "You're crazy," you responded, watching how his eyes twinkled with delight.

"Me? You're the one who left in the middle of the meeting," he shot back, making you drop your jaw with a gasp.

"And who's fault is that?"

He pressed his lips together to prevent a smile, tilting his head to the side. "Are you saying that you left because of me?"

"Not at all, it was boring anyways," you replied, biting your tongue at the brief exposure of your thoughts that your words revealed.

He nodded, "no." You knew he didn't believe you at all, but you still smiled, not really wanting him to believe you either.

"You were standing outside like a freak, how could I not be distracted?" You reasoned, earing raised eyebrows from him.

"I don't blame you, I'm quite the view to look at," he spoke with a chuckle.

You slapped his shoulder playfully, "why'd you call me out anyways?"

He smirked, "as if you don't know why." Dropping one hand from the wall, he wrapped it around your waist, pulling you closer. "I want you," he added.

"You had me a few hours ago."

He dropped his head against your shoulder, sighing. You chuckled, knowing that you wouldn't deny him, especially as you were the one dreaming about him midday, but you simply wanted to spark a reaction out of him.

Ever since that one night you spent together in your hotel room, those daydreams of yours came more often. And, as it turned out, that one night spent together didn't remain as only one night. A lot of the following nights—even days—were spent in each other's hotel rooms, or his driver's room.

Once the restraint between you snapped that night, you began craving him constantly, and it didn't help that the chemistry you shared with him continued blooming. Neither of you planned on slowing down, avariciously relishing each intimate minute spent together. However, the more time you spent together, the excitement of ignoring the repercussions started to seep into your skin and only continued to fuel your desire.

You felt his lips graze your neck, lightly at first but then with more prominent kisses. You lightly gasped when he kissed and sucked at the spot behind your ear.

Before your mind filtered out all thoughts except of him and only him, you patted his shoulder. "Carlos."

He hummed to acknowledge you but didn't relent.

"Not here," you mumbled.

Even if you were in one of the enclosed hallways where people rarely passed, you would be visible if someone were to go by.

He lifted his head, looking at you with a fond smile, "then where?"

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, but the smile on your face told a different story. "As if you don't know where," you imitated his words from earlier.

Stepping away from you, he exaggerated a bow, "well then lead the way, cariño."

Heading to his driver's room together, you chuckled and moved ahead of him. When you turned to look behind you and saw his eyes fixed on your ass, your suspicions about why he had asked you to walk in front of him were confirmed.

You were compelled to walk quickly because of the heat in his eyes, wanting to hide from potential bystanders and enjoy each other in private.

He followed you inside the room, closing the door behind. You stopped once you were standing in the middle of the room, glancing back and waiting for him to approach you.

Moments later you felt the heat of his body radiating towards you. His fingers skimmed over your sides, following your natural curves.

"I was wondering," he began, earning a hum from you, urging him to continue. "Did you miss me? Is that why you agreed so easily when I called you out?"

For a brief moment, you stopped, and Carlos sensed the tension entering your body. You turned to face him as he put his palms against your hips.

He moved his palm to your cheek, cradling it with such utmost care that all the tension dissipated into thin air. You scoffed at his question, a teasing smile making its way to your face.

"I didn't miss you." You trailed your fingers down his chest with your gaze following your movements.

Teasing the hem of his shirt, your fingers slipped underneath for a moment before hooking onto the waistband of his trousers. With your hands still moving lower, your eyes focused on his face. The corner of your lips turned up in a smirk once you saw his gaze unwavering from your hand.

The mere feeling of your fingers sliding up his clothed length already had him throbbing for the feel of your warm mouth wrapped around him.

The hand that had been on your cheek shifted to the back of your neck, drawing you in. By applying more pressure to his bulge and trying to wrap your hand as much as possible with the fabric in between, Carlos' jaw fell open.

"If you missed it that much, get down on your knees and suck it then," he muttered against your lips, grazing them but not kissing you just yet.

He dropped his hands from your body, but as soon as he did, he itched to touch you again.

You hummed, pretending to contemplate it for a moment even though you had already made your decision. "Say please."

He licked his lips, immediately drawing your attention to the motion. Your hand remained still on his crotch, and he knew you could feel his cock pulsing beneath the heat of your palm, longing for a satisfactory touch.

You would give him everything he wanted, all he had to do was ask.

Carlos whispered your name, hanging on to each syllable with such longing, and you almost gave in. When you didn't budge, he spoke your name with more assurance, then added, "please."

You pressed a peck to his cheek, "as you wish, darling."

You tugged his trousers down by hooking your fingers into the waistband. You were as eager as he was, but he lacked the restraint to hide how much he desired you.

You locked your gaze with his, unwavering even as you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. You couldn't help but tease him a little more as you pressed open mouthed kisses over his clothed cock, now only his boxers remaining as a barrier.

He groaned, "c'mon baby, you look so pretty on your knees for me."

You chuckled, finally giving in because if you continued teasing him, it would be torture for you too considering you've already soaked through your panties while sitting in the meeting earlier. You've missed the weight of his cock in your hands, even if the last time you held it was only a few hours ago in this very room.

Discarding the last piece of clothing, you held his hardened length in your hand. Gathering a bit of saliva in your mouth, you stuck your tongue out and drooled over the tip, spreading it with your palm.

He attempted to keep his gaze fixed on you, watching as you lavished much-needed attention on him, but he failed and closed his eyes as you licked his cock from the base to the tip. In a steady manner, you ran your hand up and down the length while swirling your tongue around the tip.

You placed the weight of his cock flat on your tongue before hollowing your cheeks out and sealing your lips around him. Taking him as deep as you could, you quickly felt his tip hit the back of your throat.

Your eyes quickly watered as you felt Carlos rest his hand on the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair before holding it up in a ponytail.

"I know you can take more than that, cariño." He didn't urge you forward, but you placed your free hand on top of his that was resting in your hair, silently allowing him to do it.

Once you slid your hand away, his other hand rested on your jaw, stilling you as he began to thrust his hips, moving his cock in and out of the warmth of your mouth.

The obscene sounds of you gagging on his cock were joined by his groans and praises. His sweet words made you place your palm between your legs, over your clothed pussy, slowly grinding down on it to relieve some pressure.

With a few warnings from him and a couple thrusts later, his hot cum filled your mouth, seeping down your throat and dripping down your chin as he pulled back. You were still on your knees, and that's when he noticed your hand between your own legs.

He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, watching as you frustratingly continued grinding down on your hand, while you used your other hand and swiped your fingers through his cum dribbling down your chin before licking it off with your tongue.

"Let me make you feel good," Carlos said, reaching his hand out to lift you up as you stood up.

Briefly scanning the room, he decided to sit on the couch with you in his lap. His gaze passed over the massage table in the back of the room, and he made the mental note to remember it for the next time you found yourself in his driver's room.

Amongst giggles, praises, and kisses, you used Carlos' skillful hands and cock to bring yourself over the edge twice.

The day turned to evening by the time you stood with him just by the door before leaving. This time of day, there weren't many team members in the motorhome, but you should have guessed that Carlos' teammate would be close by.

Charles spotted you as he left his own driver's room on the opposite side, greeting you and Carlos.

"You're here? Ava was looking for you earlier, and said you weren't feeling well." You glanced at Carlos, who was attempting to hide a teasing smile behind his palm and if Charles wasn't standing right there, you would've smacked the Spaniard.

"Oh, was she? I didn't know." You remembered that she promised to visit you after the meeting was over, but you had forgotten that fact when you were on your knees for Carlos.

"Are you feeling better now?" Charles questioned, and you were relieved that he remained oblivious to the predicament that was right in front of him. Particularly when you and Carlos gradually started to undervalue the significance of maintaining the secrecy of your newfound situationship.

You nodded, but before you could verbally respond, Carlos replied, "trust me, mate, she's feeling much better."

"I think I should go find Ava," you stated, muttering goodbyes before parting away from the Ferrari drivers. You looked back at Carlos with widened eyes, shaking your head at his antics. He simply chuckled, then immersed himself in a conversation with Charles.

He wasn't wrong, however, you were in fact feeling much better than before. As you walked away, you could feel his cum leaking out of your pussy, staining your work trousers since Carlos had ripped your panties to shreds.

Taglist OPEN: @xoscar03 @pierregazly @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @lilymurphy03 @the-ghost-lovwr @ilovethefruits @lewlew44 @luvvtrent @hc-dutch @khaylin27 @lillyssh-tposts @thatgirlmj @ladyoflynx @tcfanmania @customsbyjcg-blog @sltwins @nonstopbookworm @glitterquadricorn @charizznorizz @mrs-bunny @moonliightbabes @likedbygaslyy @booksandflowrs @teamnovalak @formula1mount @gaviymarcsbride @gotthemilk-69 @bwormie @llando4norris @ellesssssxzxz @arian-directioner @lou-bean28 @depressedgiftedburnout @halleest @amberpanda99 @borapsycho @cosmoscoffeee @mycenterfold @67-angelofthelordme-67 @sugarvibez @mehrmonga @aadu2173 @bokutos-babyowl @teenwolf01 @presidentdangdang @mrswolffs-blog @amyfelix14 @seasonswinter @amalialeclerc @amandadesantasworld @ystrolllll @xisab @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @pedrohoe04 @yagirlhayes @jadaaasworld @mmack23 @shimmermotorsport @darleneslane @mderby03 @jinimon-tr @landoslutmeout

#babyjr fic #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #thef1diary fic #f1 smut #f1 imagines #x reader #smut #f1 series

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call-memissbrightside · 1 year

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hi—

Katsuki would over compensate with toys, trips, candy, whatever to get his son Katsuma to like him…

Yet, Katsuma was his son, and he was stubborn just like his father

He wouldn’t bat an eye when Katsuki gave him a new game controller, nor with tickets to the amusement park

“Try harder old man,” Katsuma’s smirk was so much like his own it was jarring to the hero.

You felt bad, horrible because you could tell not being able to bond with his son that he just found out he had a month prior hurt Katsuki. You give him some guidance.

“Katsuma doesn’t like any of that stuff,” you speak softly as Katsuki packs up his bag of tricks. It was past 10 and Katsuma finally went to bed after his father awkwardly retold him stories of his early years as a hero. Katsuki and you worked out a plan that he’d but him to bed since his work hours mean he can’t make school pick up.

“He likes hiking like you, and he loves sharks,” you smile at the similarity betweeen the boy you loved and the little boy you created.

Katsuki was angry at you… for keeping Katsuma a secret from him. He was angry and hurt and didn’t know how his heart could still sting at the sight of you or the sound of your voice after five years apart. Here stood the girl who he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with, the same girl who lied to him and now what? Katsuki struggled to make sense of his new life as a co-parent, as a parent.

“Wouldn’t need fuckin pointers if you didn’t lie to me,” katsuki crumbled under his breath, defeated.

You feel like crying, the tears are there stinging at your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you repeat again and again, but you both know it doesn’t make a difference.

Katsuki didn’t like hurting you, even if he had every chance to rip you a new one. He just couldn’t, his heart couldn’t take it.

“ ‘s fine, don’t cry. I’m a dick, sorry,” he moves to leave your apartment, pausing.

“Hiking huh?” His little smirk makes you blush even thou you know it shouldn’t. Not anymore.

“Y-yeah, and sharks,” you point out dumbly.

Katsuki nods his head, “I can do hiking and sharks.”

#I’m so sorry #I wrote this on a whim #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #dad!katsuki #dad!bakugou

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stuffeddeer · 4 months

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okay but..... pathetic yearning beast!stalkerzai... he's so quiet abt his obsession with u making up any excuse to have u around for subordinate purposes and when ur not around him he makes sure he can still keep tabs on u AHHH hes so sad and so smitten

"pathetic" i dont need to hear any more. im on board.

The continuous knocking on your apartment door leaves you anxious, quickly pulling on a comfy sweatshirt before answering the door. A breeze flies into the room, causing you to shiver, before you make eye contact with,

"Why aren't you at work today?" Dazai crosses his arms, an angry expression on his face. Though, the pout he wears causes it to be less intimidating than he'd normally be.

You glance into your apartment briefly, still feeling chilly while exposed to the outside air. "Um... I don't work?"

"You always work."

"Right. Which is why I have today off." Awkwardly, you itch your arm. "Am I… needed, Boss?"

Dazai sighs before walking into your apartment (with no invitation) and closes your own door behind him. "You're freezing."

"I'm slightly chilled," you shrug, brushing off the notion. Any other subordinate wouldn't dare correct the boss of the Port Mafia, but he'd always been more lenient with you - supposedly because you ‘aren’t as dumb’ as the rest. "But that's what the hoodie is for."

Without another word, Dazai plops down onto your couch, making a show of looking around your apartment. It’s tiny - the whole thing barely the size of his office at HQ — and Dazai wonders if you’d rather move in with him. For more space, of course. And he guesses you’d be saving on rent that way, too.

“How do you know where I live?” You ask curiously. Sure, it’s probably somewhere in your files, but your boss never seemed like the type to care.

Shrugging, he murmurs, “It’s my job.”

You want to make this visit quick, but kicking out your boss didn’t seem like a smart idea. “Are you thirsty? Would you like a cup of tea?..”

Yes, Dazai wants to try your tea. Just because you’re his subordinate, and he needs to make sure it’s up to par. What if he needs you to serve tea to some associates in the future? “I’d love one.”

Biting back a sigh, you fill your kettle before placing it on the stove, watching as your old gas stove flickers on. Silence hangs between you two - you had no intention of carrying the conversation when he just barged in uninvited.

Dazai seems to have a similar idea, sitting laxly on your couch and waiting for his tea. You pour one cup, uninterested in making one yourself, before placing it on the coffee table in front of him. “Sugar? Milk?”

“This is fine, thanks.” He takes a sip. Heavenly, he’s sure. Well, all tea tastes the same, but something about it coming from your hands… delectable. It’s as though he can taste the love you must pour into every cup.

Mouth shut, you take a seat on the chair across from him. “May I ask, sir, why are you here? Am I needed?” The question is posed once again as you hope for a quick resolution. Kicking out your boss is wrong, but hopefully he’ll read between the lines and show himself out - the same way he showed himself in.

A long sip of tea permeates the otherwise silent room. He’s doing this on purpose, you’re sure of it.

“…I was worried,” he mumbles into the mug, sound muffled and quiet.

“Sorry?”

“You should be,” he replies, uninterested in repeating himself. “I needed you today, only to find out you vanished into thin air.”

“I didn’t run, if that’s what you’re implying,” your eyes narrow. You would not be mistaken for a traitor.

“No, no,” he grins. You were at your most entertaining when you became combative. Dazai much prefers you like this rather than subservient. “You took today off.”

Correcting the boss of the Port Mafia was risky, but, “You gave me today off. A month ago, after that mission, you told me to pick a day to relax.”

That’s… true. It was a strenuous mission, and while Dazai made sure to keep you out of the fray, he thought a gift like that would make you feel touched and indebted to him. Annoyingly, he’d nearly forgotten, since Dazai had planned on reneging at the last minute to trap you with him. For your work ethtic, of course.

A pout graces his lips, unhappy at your disappearance from his side. And that he had no rebuttal to it. “Well, I still need you. I made dinner reservations for two accidentally, and the restaurant is rather strict. You need to come with. The meal will be comped, of course."

“Sir, I don’t— “

“Don’t want your job?” His eyes narrow, pout vanishing immediately. You had to go along with it. “I’m sure you don’t mean that, over something as silly as a nice dinner.”

“...Of course, sir.” You tug on the strings of your hoodie, wanting to emphasize that you aren't exactly dressed for something 'nice.' "What time am I expected?"

Dazai has to stop himself from swooning. How adorable. Well, it’s not you that’s adorable, of course. It’s the juxtaposition of such n oversized hoodie on you that he finds adorable, not you yourself. Definitely. “We can leave now, actually. Get changed, please. I wouldn't say there's a dress code, but it's not a 'hoodie' establishment."

Rather than lashing out at him for the snide comment, you choose to bite your tongue and head into your bedroom.

Exhausted was too light a word to describe how you felt. Donned in a 'nice' outfit that was rather uncomfortable, you stood outside in the cold air and harsh breeze as Dazai suggested to the host to let him in. This bastard didn't have reservations for one, much less two.

After the manager is called over and recognizes Dazai, you're quickly ushered in beside him. Dazai pulls out a seat at a secluded table in the back, gesturing for you to sit. "Come."

Without a second thought, you sit in the very seat he'd pulled out, stifling a yawn as he pushes you in. You’re Dazai's best employee - he must keep you close at all times. Which is why he takes advantage of your position as his subordinate to orders you waste your day off in a fancy restaurant across from him. If you want time off of work, you’ll have to spend it with him - just so he can keep an eye on you, of course.

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httpswritings · 5 months

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Postpartum Depression - Alexia Putellas x Reader

Warnings: self harm, depression, panic attack, mentions of wounds, bad pregnancy, death mentions and similar.

Word count: 1,7k

Summary: You experience a panic attack derived from postpartum depression.

A/N: -

Alexia had arrived home from training and some media duties. She was exhausted and only looked forward to seeing you and your daughter and getting some cuddles.

Little did she know what was happening.

She heard loud cries from your daughter Martina.

When she entered the living room, you were on the floor, with your baby in your arms, also crying without looking at her.

“Bebita, what's wrong?” Alexia rushed to get closer to you.

She looked at your daughter, who was shaking, not only because of the crying but because you were shaking too and proceeded to hold her delicately.

Your face had a reddish colour and your chest showed a rapid breathing pattern.

What scared Alexia the most was that you were crying without any tears.

It was a mixture of agony and rage.

Your girlfriend had never seen you in this state of distress, so she felt lost.

Alexia had her one-month-old baby in her arms, crying uncontrollably, while she had her girlfriend in front of her, almost collapsing in what probably was a panic attack.

“Amor? What happened?” She tried to sound as soft as possible, not wanting to scare you.

She thought that the baby had fallen, and that's why you were in that state of nervousness, but after looking in detail throughout your daughter's body, Alexia saw that there were no signs of harm.

“Make her stop, Ale. Please,” you begged almost silently, but in a split second, you snapped at your girlfriend, “Get away from me. You both. Out. Please.”

She didn't question yoir request, getting out of the living room rapidly as she tried to calm Martina down.

Alexia had been suspecting that you could be experiencing post-partum depression, but she didn't know how to address the situation.

You had lost your sparkle. You didn't look in the mirror anymore. Not only that, but you felt like a whole different person, and Alexia was aware.

She had left this go too far until your mind couldn't take it anymore.

Alexia called her mother and urged her to come to your flat.

Thankfully, Eli lived only 20 minutes far away from home.

For Alexia, it was probably the longest twenty minutes of her life.

She couldn't manage to calm Martina down and she was hearing how in pain you were.

Her mind was full of her daughter and her girlfriend's shouting and she felt her insides rip apart.

Finally, Eli entered the flat.

“I need you to take care of Martina. I need to take care of...” Alexia stopped talking when she noticed that you had stopped crying, which only made her worry more about your state.

She left your daughter in her mother's arms and entered abruptly into the living room.

She found you still on the floor with scratches all over your body.

Your hands were aggressively grabbing your hair, trying to pluck it.

“Bebita... Can I get closer to you?”

You looked at her. Alexia had a scared expression, and you broke down crying.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I can't do it anymore.”

“Amor... It's okay, bebé. I'm here. Let me hold you, sí?”

You nodded, and Alexia got closer to your body.

She held your hands, which were still grabbing aggressively your hair, but she didn't succeed in getting them to let go.

She caressed your hands, leaving soft kisses on them, as you continued crying.

“I've got you, mi amor. I'm right here.”

“I don't like her, Alexia. I'm so sorry but I can't see her as mine. I can't be her mother. I'm not her mother.” You repeated over and over.

Alexia couldn't deny that hearing you say those things hurt her, but she didn't let you go.

She didn't understand what you meant, and that scared her.

She looked at your scratches; most of them had a little blood coming out.

What led you to end up hurting yourself?

Still, Alexia kept holding you.

With you in her arms, you couldn't do anything that hurt you.

She knew that she'd do anything to protect you from yourself.

Eli entered the living room. She had left her granddaughter peacefully sleeping on the cot that was placed in your bedroom.

She placed herself in front of you, looking at your body, especially your arms.

After examining the situation and after asking you a few questions, Eli came to the conclusion of what seemed to be the cause.

“Listen, love. You may not see it now, but what you're experiencing is a common situation for many women. More than you know. It's normal to think that you don't love or don't feel a connection to your baby. But safety here is the priority. Not only the baby's but everyone's, including yourself. If you need professional help, you must ask for it. No one is going to shame you. We are all going to be by your side, taking care of you. Right, Ale?”

Alexia nodded, leaving a soft kiss on your head.

“You've experienced an episode common in women who are struggling after having given birth, and you've hurt yourself,” she said, looking at your wrists and your hands, which were still grabbing your hair.

“If it's not treated, the whole situation can get worse, not only towards you but towards Martina or Alexia. It's not a rational situation, so don't think you're a monster, because you're not. But I want you to be safe. And that implies asking for professional help.”

You cried as your mind showed you the worst scenarios you could think of. You didn't want to hurt anybody, not Alexia and especially not your one-month-old baby.

You remembered how excited you were when you told Alexia that you were carrying your daughter on your belly, feeling that you wouldn't be able to wait all those months until you had Alexia's little version in your arms.

Now, those memories seem so strange to you.

“Alexia, I want you to look for a psychologist specialized in maternity. I'm taking the baby with me tonight so you both can have some clarity. If this gets worse, I want you to go to the hospital or call an ambulance, and of course, call me or call your sister.”

You saw Eli exiting your home with your baby in her arms, making you cry again, and Alexia rushed to hold you.

“Ale, I don't feel anything. I'm seeing my baby leave my side, and I don't feel the need to go after her. I feel relieved. I'm a monster. I'm so sorry because neither you nor Martina deserve to be next to me.”

Alexia couldn't hold back her tears anymore. She hated herself for letting you end up in this state. She should've been more thoughtful, more caring, more empathetic.

“No, amor, that's not true. I deserve to have you as a partner, and our baby deserves to have you as a mother. If you need some time to get used to it, it'll be alright. Amor, you went through pregnancy and labor. There's no way I'm blaming you for feeling like this.”

“Giving birth was the most painful thing I've ever experienced, Alexia. I feel numb since that happened. It's like I'm not able to feel anything after feeling so much pain. I truly thought my body was going to rip apart.”

“See? It's not easy to experience motherhood the way you have experienced it. That's why you deserve us, your family, and we'll wait for you as long as you need. Let's do this, amor: you'll let me take care of your wounds, and then I'll prepare you a warm bath, and while you're taking it, I'll look up some educational stuff about everything related to this, just like my mother said. Is that alright?”

You impulsively kissed Alexia.

“You know, the only moment I wasn't scared when I was in labor was when you kissed me. The doctors were encouraging me to push. Martina was about to be born. Everything happened so fast and slowly at the same time. I felt my insides stretching, and then I started to cry in pain. You remember it, right? And then you kissed me so softly that you managed to stop the time for a few seconds. I felt safe even if I wasn't, even if I almost died while delivering our little girl. What was supposed to be the most beautiful day of my life was the most scary and horrible thing I've ever experienced. I looked at you after what I thought was going to be our last kiss, and I told you how much I loved you: “T'estimo molt.” It was my way of saying goodbye to you, amor. What mattered most to me at that moment was that whether I died or not, I wanted to make sure you knew how much I loved you.”

Alexia wasn't able to say a word.

Everything had gone so fast, that she didn't have time to process the fact that you almost died while giving birth.

It's as if her mind had blocked that memory out.

She didn't realize that you were saying goodbye, and the possibility of having lost you that day made her almost want to die.

She didn't imagine a life were you weren't by her side.

“I'm so sorry, mi amor. God... you almost died...” She said looking at the wall with a blank stare.

Alexia felt the impulse to hug you so tightly as if she was going to lose you, that you felt pain in your stomach.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Joder! I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

“Ale, it's fine. I know it's been like one month but I'm still recovering from labor.”

“Let's go to the hospital.”

“No.”

“Ye—”

“Alexia, I said no.” Your response was harsher than you expected.

“Listen, Ale. I'm okay. I'd let you call an ambulance or drag me to the nearest hospital if I wasn't fine, but I'm good. My wounds are not, but they aren't anything that we cannot heal at home. I don't want to enter a hospital if it's not necessary. Not again. I don't feel prepared.”

“Okay. But...What about what my mother said? Do you feel comfortable with the idea of getting professional help?”

“No. But I guess—I know that I need to. So I'll do it. But no hospitals for the moment.”

“Okay, bebita. No hospitals for the moment.”

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader

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fae-papercuts · 2 months

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Originally inspired as a response to some posts by @banrionceallach and @marlynnofmany. Polished it up and decided it would make a good start to my lil story blog. Enjoy!

Not Our Usual Passengers

“What do you mean, there’s something wrong with the engines?” Captain El'ek'tak said incredulously. “You’re not an engineer, none of you humans are. You’re not even crew, you’re passengers! How dare you claim there’s something wrong with my vessel!?”

The outraged captain puffed up her air sacks, the feathery amphibian inflating as she stared down the trio of humans who had been travelling with them for the past week. They were not what she had come to expect when transporting humans, not one bit.

They were quiet, for a start. One of them didn’t even speak at all, just made an occasional tuneless humming sound when they were concentrating particularly hard on something. That was usually accompanied by a rocking back and forth that seemed remarkably similar to the Ke'tek autonomic stimulation ritual of focus.

Humans weren’t supposed to do that, were they?

The second of the human party cleared their throat softly - something they always did before speaking, which was quite a rare occurrence. The captain appreciated this, actually. So many humans she had transported interrupted her, or spoke over each other. The disrespect was really quite remarkable - but these humans waited patiently for others to finish, and this particular human’s throat-clearing was used similarly to the way El'ek'tak’s own species rustled their dorsal feathers to indicate their intent to communicate.

“Captain, apologies if we caused any offence,” at this the non-speaking human’s eyes widened in surprise, and they shook their head, clearly agreeing in a profoundly apologetic manner, without words. Their apologetic companion went on, “We can’t be certain there’s something wrong with the ship, we just thought you should know that it sounds wrong.”

The first human spoke again, nodding as they added to their companion’s statement.

“Yes, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to assert certainty when I should have stated a suspicion,” they gave a short smile, then their face quickly fell back into a neutral expression. The captain was a little taken aback by this, as that particular human seemed to very rarely express facially - quite the opposite to what she was used to with humans. It was a little disconcerting, but mostly because she had put a lot of effort into learning about human non-verbal communication.

She blinked, and stared at the three for a long moment. “It sounds wrong?” she repeated back, surprised. She had heard of some particularly sensitive species being able to diagnose certain engine issues from the vibrational frequencies, but usually this required extremely highly trained specialists.

The silent human nodded, and raised a handheld device, tapping something onto its screen for a few moments. The other two humans turned and waited patiently as their friend worked, and the Captain watched with a raised eyebrow (this wasn’t a natural Girurian expression. She had learnt it from her human studies, enjoyed how it felt, and how it could communicate so many things at once).

The human held up the device, and it emitted a gentle, slightly robotic tone, “Engine pitch changed one point five hours ago. Rising quarter octave every seven minutes. Hurt very bad fifty five minutes ago.”

Captain El'ek'tak stared for a moment at the human, her feathers rustling vaguely, as she tried to figure out a response. She looked between all three of them. “You can hear the engines, from your quarters half way across the ship?” she asked incredulously.

The most vocal of the humans spoke, while the throat-clearer nodded and the non-verbal one tapped on their device. “Oh yes,” they said, “we’re all sensitive to sensory input, at least for humans. Not a patch on Alirians sound sensitivity, or Hynoids electromagnetic spectral range, or the scent capabilities of the Teraxids - did you know they can smell a single smoke particulate in a standard atmospheric volume of 500 cubic metres?”

The human with the device gently put a hand on the speaker’s shoulder and smiled softly at their friend - who turned bright red and looked at the floor. “Sorry, xenobiological sensory discrepancies is my special interest right now,” they said, before taking a slight step back. It was at this point that the captain noticed that they were fiddling with a strange cube in their left hand, suddenly speeding up how they manipulated the piece of plastic, changing its configuration rapidly. It was a fascinating display of manual dexterity, and considered asking about it for a moment.

“Engine makes the whole ship vibrate. Can hear it any place,” spoke the little device, for it’s human, interrupting the captain's curiosity. The human’s head rose, making eye contact with El'ek'tak. The human’s gaze was intense - more so than even the other humans the captain had encountered. Eye contact was so rarely a positive thing, across a wide variety of species, but with humans she had met so far it had always been considered important. So the captain had learned to look them in the eyes. It had been a surprise when this group avoided it so much, rarely meeting her gaze for more than a split second. Early in the voyage, they had politely explained that all of them found it hard, and that they hoped she wouldn’t take offence. Frankly, El'ek'tak had been a little relieved, as all the eye contact with others of the odd little species had been quite exhausting.

But right now, the diminutive human who never spoke and could apparently tell when engines changed pitch, was looking into her eyes, and the Captain could practically feel this little traveller’s distress. It made her ankle feathers itch, and she was surprised to find herself understanding quite so much from just a look.

The captain nodded, and broke eye contact. The human looked down again, reverting back to their usual slightly-bowed stance.

“Let me check with engineering,” she said, and turned to the panel by her side, tapping a screen to raise the engine-room. Slipping comfortably into her own language, she greeted the pair of engineering crew on duty, and asked them about the state of the engines, particularly frequency or oscillation-related issues. She gave them the time to check on it, waiting silently, still as a statue, while the humans figeted, or rocked gently side to side. Their motion made her a little uncomfortable, but she had learnt that with these three, continuous movement wasn’t a sign of impatience, as it has been for many previous human passengers.

After a few minutes, the engineers returned to the screen, and exchanged a few explanatory sentences with the Captain, before tapping fingers to their foreheads respectfully. The Captain returned the gesture, and ended the call.

El'ek'tak turned back to the humans, to see that the non-verbal one was already tapping on their device. She couldn’t help but rustle her feathers, wanting to reassure the humans, but not wanting to interrupt this overt preparation for communication. The throat-clearing human raised a finger briefly, a clear request for a moment of time, and the Captain found herself surprised again at how wide a variety of perception these humans could contain within a single species.

“Pitch dropping rapidly. Expect normal range in four minutes. Thank you, captain,” said the device, as the human beamed a broad smile at her for just a brief moment.

El'ek'tak’s feathers rustled briskly, and then she replied. “Yes, that’s alright, thank you for bringing it to our attention,” she said, pausing to gather her wits. “The interphasic array had become slightly misaligned. It wouldn’t have been detected by our sensors for another hour, and then we would have had to pause the engines to manually readjust it. Catching it this early, we could simply vary the input parameters to re-compensate, and bring it back into synchronisation,” she explained, relaying the gratitude of her engineering crew.

The most vocal human flapped their hands back and forth vigorously, grinning with delight. “Oh, thank goodness, I’m so glad we could help, and that the engine noise will at least be consistent. We were worried it would be horrible for the whole trip, and we’d have to reconfigure our ear protection all the time! Genuinely helping out the engineers is so great!”

The captain’s eyes bulged with happiness, quite unable to resist the infectious joy of the gleeful human. “I am glad your trip will be more comfortable, and I will pass on how helpful you were to Central, once we reach our destination.”

The throat-clearing human, who had so consistently noticed the captain’s non-verbal communication, smiled too. They actually chuckled a little as they said, “More neurodiversity stuff to go in The Guide To Interstellar Travel With Humans,” seeming pleasantly amused.

El'ek'tak winced in embarrassment. She had already sent in three amendments to the guide regarding natural variations in human cognitive capabilities and behavioural norms since they had left Alpha Centauri, the two weeks of travel offering surprise after surprise from these passengers. But as far as she knew, the guide wasn’t acknowledged by humans - she didn’t even know the species was aware of the now rather sizeable volume of collected knowledge. It certainly wasn’t available in any human languages that she knew of - after all, what would be the point?

The human’s chuckle became gentler, and the other vocal one of the group raised a hand in an extremely close mimic of the Girurian comforting gesture - as close as could be with the wrong number of digits, anyway. The Captain couldn’t help but relax, the effort the human put into the gesture only adding to the positive impact. They flashed another brief smile as their companion explained, “Don’t worry captain. Most of us don’t bother with it, but I find it fascinating. It has been wonderful seeing the updates since our trip began. Please, the more human neurodivergency is documented, the easier space travel can be for people like us.”

There were a few more polite exchanges, during which the captain learned that the strange device she had notice was an 'infinity cube,' which was apparently a kind of 'fidget toy.' Then the humans left her ready room; a quiet, somewhat surreal collection of beings who had rather put a lie to the notion that humans were uniformly capable of being brash and difficult to deal with.

But they certainly didn’t do anything to diminish the captain’s view of humanity as a species eternally full of surprises.

#earth is space australia #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #short story #short fiction #autism #neurodiversity #neurodiversity in space #science fiction #scifi #fae papercuts original

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lupinqs · 9 days

Text

CHAPTER FOUR ━━ Caged Bird

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.9K

☆ ━ warnings: literally just outright homophobia w a slur (sorry), conversion therapy, religious guilt, dani’s just super fuckin depressed, too damn long to proofread

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: here is where you can learn more about conversion therapy. believe it or not, this is still a fucking problem in the US today, as an estimated 20,000 minors are subjected to it yearly i believe. just because instances of it are included in this does NOT by any means mean that i condone it. one of my friends actually went through something similar for a little while and it’s so fucked up. if anything, this is to bring awareness of the fact that shit like this is still happening!!!!!!

MAY 2019

DANIELLE CALLAN has never felt more content in her life. The soft morning lights spill through the blinds, casting golden stripes across her bedspread. She stretches lazily, her body still buzzing happily from last night. Everything has finally fallen into place. She and Paige finally said it—finally admitted their feelings, after all the years of hiding behind jealous stares, half-hearted jokes, and touches that lingered far too long to be deemed friendly.

Paige left earlier this morning, ready to catch her flight that’ll take her away for the rest of the summer. But even the distance can’t dampen the giddiness Dani feels, all over, almost like she’s caught some sort of illness that has her body and mind repeating Paige, Paige, Paige over and over again. She lays in bed, replaying when Paige she kissed her on the porch, when she kissed her goodnight, when she kissed her good morning, when she kissed her goodbye. Her mind glazes over as she remembers the blonde whispering “I love you” into her ear like it was a secret only they were allowed to share. It all felt so right, so natural, like they’ve always meant to be together in that way.

Dani pulls her phone from the nightstand, grinning at the last text Paige sent her, the one she’s been glancing at all morning.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

Boarding now. I love you

Can i call you when I land

Dani ❤️‍🔥

ofc you can

i love you too have a safe flight ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥!!!!!

Dani holds her phone to her chest, cheeks blooming pink, a smile spreading across her face. It’s real now. All of it. For the first time, she doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to wonder if Paige feels the same way. The uncertainty is gone, replaced by a warmth that makes her feel like she’s floating.

Reluctantly, she swings her legs over the side of the bed, knowing she has to get up. She pads over to the window, trying to pul the curtains open a bit more, eager to let the light flood in. However, it seems as though they’re jammed, and, after a poor fight on her part, Dani sighs, rolling her eyes and letting the curtains stay closed, engulfing the room in darkness.

Nevertheless, she’s still smiling as she heads downstairs, the scent of coffee wafting through her nose, the faint sound of the TV playing in the living room registering. Her dad’s probably watching his usual morning news, she figures. She feels lighter than air as she bounces down the steps, a pure happiness that’s been harder to come by recently.

But as she reaches the bottom of the stairs, something about the atmosphere seems to shift. Dani’s stomach flips anxiously; the air feels heavy all of a sudden—thick. She pauses, her hand resting on the banister as she peers into the living room. Her dad is sitting in his usual spot on the couch, but something seems different—off. He’s hunched over, elbows on his knees, his phone in his hand. The TV’s on, but the volume is low, almost as if it’s been forgotten.

Not to mention that her dad’s expression isn’t what Dani’s used to seeing. There’s no relaxed, Saturday-morning ease in the way he sits. Instead, his face is set in a rigid, tense mask, his jaw clenched so tightly Dani can see the muscles in his neck straining. His eyes are fixed on his phone, unmoving, and there’s a darkness in them that makes her want to go right back up to her room.

“Dad?” Dani’s voice is cautious, her lighthearted mood evaporating as she takes a few tentative steps forward. “You okay?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at her. It’s odd. Usually, he’d greet her with some offhand remark or ask about her plans for the day. But now, there’s nothing. Just silence.

Dani’s unease grows, her inside twisting with unfamiliar dread. She steps closer, trying to get a better look at him. “Dad?”

Finally, he looks up. His eyes meet hers, and the expression on his face is enough to make her swallow thickly, unsure how to feel. He looks at her angrily, coldly, and it sends a jolt through Dani’s chest.

He says nothing at first. Instead, he simply turns his phone around, showing her the screen. At first, she can’t make out what she’s looking at—just a video, playing on a small square of the screen. But then her heart plummets into her stomach as she recognizes what exactly is being filmed. The porch. Her and Paige. Last night.

Her breath catches in her throat as she watches the footage. There Dani is, fumbling with her keys while Paige kisses her neck, whispering those three words that meant everything. The video captured it all—the giggles shared between them, the way Dani turned around and pulled Paige in for another kiss, savoring it. This moment that was meant to be just theirs, is now playing out in front of Dani’s father’s eyes.

Fuck. Dani should have realized, should have remembered. They have a Ring doorbell—it takes footage of any movement near it. But she was drunk and stupid and in love and she’d forgotten. And now, by the look on her dad’s face, she’s about to pay for that.

Her mouth goes dry, her heart hammering in her chest as she looks up at her father. He’s still holding his phone out, eyes smoldering with an anger that makes her feel like she can’t breathe.

“Dad,” she whispers, voice barely audible. “I can explain—”

“What the hell is this, Danielle?” he interrupts, his tone low, the kind he only uses when he’s really, really angry. It makes her flinch.

She opens her mouth, but words don’t come. What can she say? How can she possibly explain something she’s barely had enough time to process herself?

Her dad stands abruptly, his movements sharp and filled with barely restrained rage. “You think this is acceptable? In my house? Under my rules? I—I don’t know what happened. You’ve always been a good girl. Danielle, you have a relationship with Christ! How could you do this? How could you throw everything I’ve given you, everything I’ve done for you, everything God has done for you for… for this?” He shakes the phone in his direction, his voice rising. “For this disgusting, sinful bullshit!”

Dani recoils like she’s been slapped, the weight of his words pressing down on her. The thoughts that she’s pushed to the back burner of her mind echo quietly, agreeing with her father. It’s wrong. A girl loving another girl is wrong. Sinful. But the part of her mind that’s taken over, the one that thinks about the blonde basketball player day and night and can’t help but think about how right it felt to be with Paige in that way, fights back. “I—I can explain, I swear—” she starts, but is quickly interrupted.

“Explain what?” he spits, face twisted in disgust and disappointment. “There’s nothing to explain, Danielle. I saw it. I saw you—kissing that girl. Paige.” He says her name like it’s some kind of poison, and it makes Dani’s chest constrict. “I knew something was off about that friendship. You think I haven’t noticed how you two are always together, always too close?”

Tears well up in Dani’s eyes, her whole body tensing in a panic. “It’s not like that—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snaps, eyes flaring. “I saw what I saw. And I won’t tolerate this… this perversion under my roof.”

The tears begin to pull over now, Dani’s chest heaving as she tries to fight the sobs that rip through her. “Dad, please—”

“You’re not seeing her again,” he cuts her off, his voice final, cold. “I don’t care how long you’ve been friends. I don’t care that you’ve known her since you were kids. I don’t care that she’s our next door neighbor. Whatever that is, it’s ended. Now.”

Dani shakes her head frantically, panicking, tears falling faster. “You can’t do that!” she shouts, voice cracking. “Please, Paige is—she’s my best friend—please—we”

“No!” he yells over her, vocals booming around the room. Dani flinches, her body trembling as she wraps her arms around herself. “You will not see her again. You won’t even go near her. Do you understand me?”

“Dad, please, just listen—”

“I said, do you understand me?” he repeats. “This is not up for discussion, Danielle. She’s a bad influence, a—” he hesitates, and then with a sneer that makes Dani’s stomach churn, he hisses, “She’s a filthy fag, and I won’t let her corrupt you any more than she already has.”

His words hang in the air like a death sentence, and Dani’s world tilts on its axis. It feels like the floor has been ripped out from beneath her. She’s never heard her father speak like this, never seen such venom in his voice. Of course she’s known he’s homophobic; he’s made off handed remarks every now and then, says things about how “those people” are disappointments to God. But this? The way he’s looking at her—it’s like she’s a complete stranger to him. Like he doesn’t even recognize his own daughter anymore.

The sobs break free through Dani’s chest and her hands shake as she covers her red-rimmed eyes with them. “Dad, please,” she begs, though she knows it’s probably useless at this point. “Please don’t do this.”

But her father’s expression doesn’t soften. If anything, it grows harder, colder. “Go to your room,” he says through clenched teeth. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Dani looks up at him, her vision blurred with tears. “Dad—”

“I said, go to your room!” he practically roars, and the sheer force of it makes her stumble backward toward the stairs, body shaking.

Her heart is in her throat and she’s trembling uncontrollably as she turns and runs up the steps, her sobs echoing in the otherwise silent house. She barely makes it to her room before collapsing onto her bed, her face buried in her pillow as she lets her tears free fall.

Everything’s ruined. Her dad hates her. He’s seen everything—and now he hates her.

And Paige…

Dani can’t even let herself think about that. How, just hours ago, she had everything, and—within minutes—it all slipped between her fingers.

And now all Dani can feel is shame.

JUNE 2019

The camp—if that’s what you could call it—isn’t the kind of summer camp Dani expected when her father first mentioned it to her. No, this place isn’t about hikes or bonfires or s’mores. It’s something else entirely.

They call it a “church camp,” but it didn’t take long for Dani to realize what it really is. Conversion therapy, as simple as that. A way to “fix” her, to cleanse her of her sins.

The camp is deep in the woods, secluded and quiet, the kind of place where no one would hear you scream, where no one would notice if you disappeared for a few months and come back changed. The other girls and boy here are like Dani—at least, that’s what she’s been told. They’ve been sent here to be “cured,” to be saved from the deviance inside of them, the sickness that led them astray from God’s light.

At first, Dani tries to resist. She fights it, mentally at least. The idea that something so integral to her—love—could be a disease was unthinkable. She thinks of Paige, her best friend, her first love, and tries to remind herself of the warmth, the joy, the rightness of it all. Paige always made her feel seen. Safe. Loved. How can any of that be a sin?

But as the weeks drag on, the messages seep in, and, slowly but surely, Dani’s defenses erode. The camp counselors—rigid, strict men and women with eyes that seem to stare straight into your soul—speak of salvation and sin in the same breath. They quote scripture, twisting it into something Dani never heard before, making her feel like her very existence is a rebellion against God.

They say the attraction she feels for Paige is a temptation, a test from the devil himself. That her love isn’t love at all, but lust, base, and immoral. Every day, they hammer this message into her through sermons, through private “sessions,” through exercises designed to break down her spirit, to rebuild her into someone who can conform, who can be pure again. They say they’re just trying to help her.

The forest surrounding the camp becomes a symbol of her isolation. The trees loom tall, casting long shadows over the compound, as if the very earth is trying to swallow her whole. There’s no escape, no outlet. Dani’s never felt more alone in her life. She wants to cry, to scream, to run, but there’s nowhere to go. No one to turn to.

Her days become a blur of routine and control. They take everything from her. Her phone, her freedom, her identity. She isn’t allowed to speak of Paige—hell, she isn’t even allowed to think of Paige without facing repercussions. They watch her closely, scrutinizing every move, every glance, every word, looking for any sign of weakness, any sign that she hasn’t fully accepted the “truth.”

Some days are easier than others. On the good days, Dani finds herself almost numb, going through the motions, letting the words of the counselors wash over her without sinking in. But on the bad days… the bad days are hell. On the bad days, the guilt is so overwhelming that she can hardly breathe. She’ll lay in her cot at night, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts she can’t quiet. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am sick. Maybe I’m not supposed to feel this way. Maybe… maybe Paige will be better off without me. Maybe I’ll be better off without Paige.

The worst part is that she can feel herself changing. Slowly, bit by bit, the person she’s always been—Dani, the girl who loves photography, the girl who loves to write, the girl who love Paige—slips away. In her place, there’s… someone else. Someone who’s afraid. Afraid of herself. Afraid of the world. Afraid of God.

There are moments, brief as they are, when Dani finds herself alone, sitting on the edge of the lake that borders the camp. The counselors allow “reflection time” out there, a chance to sit in nature and contemplate God’s will for their lives. Dani doesn’t feel God’s presence out there, though. Instead, she feels only emptiness. The lake, still and dark, mirrors the hollow ache in her chest, the ache that started the day her father found that video and had only grown since then.

She thinks of Paige during those moments. She can’t help it. Paige’s laugh, her smile, the way her fingers would brush against Dani’s hand when they were alone together. She thought of the way Paige’s voice had cracked, just slightly, when she’d said, “I love you,” as if it had been too heavy, too important, to carry without breaking.

And then the guilt would come rushing back in like a tidal wave, drowning out the memory of Paige’s touch. This isn’t right. I’m not supposed to feel this way. The counselors make sure of that. They drill it into her head day after day until she begins to doubt every thought, every feeling, every memory she has of Paige.

The uncertainty is the worst part. At night, lying in her narrow cot, Dani closes her eyes and tries to remember how it had felt to be with Paige. How, just a few short weeks ago, her heart had been so full of love that it felt like it might burst. But now, those memories feel like they belong to someone else, like they’re fading away, replaced by a gnawing doubt that maybe—just maybe—what she felt isn’t love at all.

The isolation gnaws at her. Dani’s faith—which, despite everything, was pure before—has become tainted, almost like she’s trying to crawl away from it—or at least, trying to crawl away from the twisted version of faith that the camp preaches. They tell her that God loves her but only if she can repent, only if she can reject the “unnatural desires” that have led her down this dark path. They tell her that true salvation means giving up everything she’s ever known, including Paige.

They don’t just want her to stop loving Paige. They want her to stop being herself.

But the hardest part is, after so many weeks, Dani doesn’t really know who exactly she is anymore. She feels like a shell of herself, hollowed out and empty, filled with nothing but fear and shame. And she begins to wonder if it’s working. If they’re right. If this is how it’s supposed to be.

But still, sometimes, Dani wakes up in the middle of the night, her heart pounding, her body drenched in sweat, a sense of panic so intense that she can hardly breathe. In these moments, she presses her face into the scratchy pillow, biting her lip to keep from screaming. Because in the darkness, in the quiet, when no one else is watching, she still wants Paige. She still loves her. No matter what they say, no matter how much they try to break her down, that small, fragile piece of her heart still beats for Paige.

And that scares her more than anything.

She doesn’t know how much longer she’ll be able to hold on to that part of herself. It’s slipping away, little by little, with every sermon, every “counseling” session, every prayer that she shoves down her throat. She’s being worn down, and she’s afraid that one day, she’ll wake up and not feel anything at all.

And maybe… maybe that’s what they want. Maybe that’s what God wants. Maybe that’s what she deserves.

Dani doesn’t even know how long she has left at the camp, nor how long she’s been there. After the first couple weeks, time begins to lose its meaning. She’s stopped counting the days (since they don’t tell her the date), stopped waiting for it to end.

JULY 2019

Dani sits in the chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes downcast as she stares at the scuffed linoleum floor. The room is cold, sterile, and devoid of any warmth or comfort. It’s the same room she’s been sitting in for the past two months, every time she’s called in for her one-on-one “therapy” sessions. The wooden cross on the wall looms large above her, a constant reminder of the weight she’s supposed to carry, the sin she’s meant to repent for.

Across from her sits Mrs. Keating, one of the camp’s lead counselors. She’s a stern woman, always impeccably dressed, with sharp features and cold, piercing blue eyes that seem to cut through whatever walls Dani tries to put up. She’s been Dani’s assigned counselor from the start, the one tasked with guiding her back to the “right” path, the one who’s delivered the harshest sermons about the dangers of temptation and sin.

Today is supposed to be their final session—or, at least, that’s what Dani has been told. She knows the routine by now. Mrs. Keating will ask her a series of questions, probing deeper into her thoughts, her feelings, her beliefs. Dani’s learned to say what’s expected of her, to give the answers the woman wants. At first, she resisted, clinging to the hope that she could hold onto who she really is, but that hope has withered away in the weeks she’s been here.

She isn’t even really sure who she is anymore.

Mrs. Keating sits behind her desk, her fingers laced together as she regards Dani with that unreadable expression she always wears. It’s a look that makes Dani feel small, insignificant, like a child being scolded.

“So, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating begins, her voice cool and steady, “you’ve been with us for quite some time now. How are you feeling?”

Dani swallows, her throat dry. She hates these questions. They always feel like traps, no matter how carefully she answers. But she knows better now than to hesitate. She’s learned what they want to hear, and she’s learned that it’s easier to comply than to fight.

“I feel… better,” Dani answers, her voice quiet, almost mechanical. “I feel like I’ve been able to reflect on… everything.”

“Good, that’s very good,” Mrs. Keating replies, nodding approvingly. “And what have you learned in your time here?”

Dani’s fingers twitch in her lap, her nails digging into her palms. She hates herself for what she’s about to say, but she can’t stop the words from slipping out. They feel foreign, like they were coming from someone else’s mouth. But she thinks they’re right. After all this time, everything she’s gone through here, how can they not be?

“I’ve learned that… what I was feeling before… it was wrong,” Dani murmurs, her heart heavy. “That it wasn’t love. It was temptation. Sin.”

Mrs. Keating’s smile is small, satisfied. “And you understand why that is, don’t you?”

Dani nods, her gaze still fixed on the floor. “Yes. Because God doesn’t want us to… live that way. It’s against His plan.”

“And your feelings for the girl… ?”

They don’t say her name. They never say her name. And Dani’s glad. They don’t deserve to say Paige’s name. She’s too good, too full of light, for all of this. Dani’s stomach twists as the image of Paige’s face flashes through her mind—her bright eyes, her playful smile, the way her touch always feels so soft and warm. Dani’s chest aches with the memory, but she pushes it down. She can’t think about that now. She can’t think about her. It’s wrong. It’s wrong.

It’s wrong.

“I don’t… feel that way anymore,” Dani says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know it was wrong. I know it wasn’t real love.”

Mrs. Keating’s eyes gleam with approval, as if she’s won some silent battle. “That’s right, Danielle. You’re starting to understand. Love, true love, is a gift from God, and it’s meant to be between a man and a woman. Anything else is a distortion, a lie from the devil.”

Dani bites the inside of her cheek, the taste of blood sharp on her tongue. She’s heard this speech so many times that she can recite it in her sleep, and each time, it chips away at her a little more, hollowing her out from the inside. She wants to believe that maybe it’s a lie—that what she felt (feels?) with Paige is real—but after weeks of being told otherwise, it’s getting harder and harder to hold on to that belief.

“And how do you feel about your future now, Danielle?” Mrs. Keating asks, her tone almost gentle, as if she’s speaking to a child in need of guidance. “Do you feel ready to live a life that honors God?”

Dani’s hands tighten in her lap. She feels the weight of the cross around her neck, its presence suffocating. She’s worn it every day since she received it from her father years ago. But ever since she’s gotten here, it’s become a constant reminder of the expectations placed upon her, of the person she’s supposed to be.

“I want to do what’s right,” Dani replies, her voice steady even as her heart stutters. “I want to live the way God wants me to live.”

Mrs. Keating leans forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she can sense the apprehension buried beneath Dani’s words. “And you’re willing to renounce those past feelings? Those sinful urges?”

Dani’s throat tightens, but, nevertheless, she nods. “Yes.”

“Good.” Mrs. Keating’s smile widens. “You’ve made remarkable progress, Danielle. You’ve come a long way from the confused girl who arrived here, and I’m proud of you for embracing the truth.”

Dani doesn’t feel proud. She just feels empty.

The silence in the room grows heavy, oppressive, as Mrs. Keating studies her, as if trying to gauge the depth of Dani’s conviction. After a moment, she rises from her chair and walks around the desk, coming to stand in front of Dani. She reached down, her cold fingers brushing against Dani’s skin as she presses her hand to the small silver cross hanging from Dani’s neck.

The touch makes Dani flinch, but she doesn’t move. She can’t.

Mrs. Keating’s fingers linger there for a moment, her grip firm, almost possessive. “God will forgive you for your sins,” she says softly, her voice filled with the kind of certainty that Dani can never muster. “He is a merciful God, and He wants nothing more than for you to be redeemed in His eyes.”

Dani’s pulse races beneath the surface of her skin. She wants to believe that. She wants to believe that all of this—everything she’s gone through—will lead to forgiveness, to peace. But deep down, something in her resists. Something in her whispers that maybe God won’t forgive her. Maybe she isn’t worthy of it. Maybe there’s no redemption for someone like her.

She swallows hard, her eyes stinging with the tears she refuses to shed.

Mrs. Keating releases her hold on the necklace, her hand falling back to her side. She smiles, the gesture cold and calculating, as if she’s just won a battle Dani hadn’t realized she was fighting.

“You’re almost there, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating tells her, voice smooth and placating. “You’re so close to being saved.”

Dani doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t think she trusts herself to speak.

Because in that moment, all she can think about is Paige. Paige’s face, Paige’s laugh, Paige’s love. She can feel it slipping away, the memory of it growing dimmer with every passing day. And the worst part is, she isn’t sure if she wants to hold onto it anymore. Bitterly, she doesn’t know what the point would be. What would be the point at all, if this is who she’s supposed to be now?

“Remember, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating says firmly, brows scrunched slightly, “God’s love is stronger than anything. Stronger than sin. Stronger than temptation.”

Dani nods mechanically, her mind a haze of conflicting thoughts and emotions. She’s heard this so many times, and every time, it feels like another piece of her soul is being chipped away.

But maybe that’s for the best.

AUGUST 2019

Dani’s home.

That simple fact should bring her comfort, but as she stands in the middle of her bedroom, staring at the familiar walls and the neatly made bed, nothing feels the same. The space seems smaller, suffocating almost, and everything inside her feels hollow. It doesn’t really feel like home anymore.

She doesn’t know what feels like home.

She doesn’t think she has one.

It’s strange—coming back from camp was supposed to be a relief, a return to normalcy, but nothing about this feels normal. Dani expected some kind of closure, maybe even a sense of peace after everything she’s been through, but all she can do is feel a dull, heavy weight pressing down on her chest, right under her necklace. She feels like she doesn’t even belong here anymore. And it’s not just her house; it’s her whole life.

Dani doesn’t hang out with Thaliah or Jalen anymore either. They try to reach out when she gets back—text messages, phone calls, even a couple visits—but she pushes them away. It’s not like she really wants to—it’s just easier. Easier to stay locked inside herself, easier to avoid the questions she knows they’ll ask. Easier to pretend that things can just… move on.

Because they can’t. Not after everything. Not after her.

It’s easier not to think about Paige this way. Paige is still gone, away on basketball things for the summer, and with her absence, Dani’s managed to build up walls—tall, thick ones that keep the memories at bay. She has to. Thinking about Paige, about what they shared, about how it all fell apart without the blonde even knowing, is too much. So, she doesn’t think about it. She can’t.

Her dad doesn’t bring it up either. Not directly, at least. They’ve never spoken about what happened—about the reason Dani was sent away in the first place. Instead, he acts like it never occurred, like she was just at a normal summer camp, learning life lessons, finding her footing. That suits Dani fine. The last thing she wants is to talk about her “past mistakes.”

Instead, they focus on what her father considers the right things, like Beau Hudson.

Beau is someone Dani’s known since elementary school, a boy she’s always thought is a typical jockey douchebag—the kind of guy who’ll peak in high school and will probably spend the rest of his life chasing after some sense of former glory. He’s loud, obnoxious, and has a habit of talking like he owns every room he walks into. Dani’s never liked him, never thought twice about him, except to occasionally roll her eyes when his name comes up.

But now, Beau seems to be the answer to her father’s prayers.

Apparently, Beau mentioned to his parents that he thought Dani was pretty. And apparently, her father—who happens to work with Beau’s father—thinks that’s just great. It’s perfect, actually. Perfect in the way that Dani knows her father has always envisioned for her—a respectable boy, from a respectable family, with respectable values. There’s no need to talk about her past anymore, no need to dwell on those mistakes. If she can just date Beau, everything will fall into place. She can be the daughter her father wants her to be.

So, she does it.

She begins dating Beau, and it happens so fast that she hardly has time to question it. One minute, she’s saying yes to dinner with his family, and the next, they’re officially together. It isn’t something Dani really wants, but it’s something she can tolerate. It’s easy. Beau’s world is uncomplicated, shallow in a way that’s almost comforting because it doesn’t require much from her.

She starts hanging out with his friends—people she’s never given the time of day before. Guys from the football team, girls from the cheer squad. Serena Corren, one of the cheerleaders who’s always been a bit of a bitch, turns out to be not that bad. Dani finds herself spending time with her, more than she expects. Serena’s loud and a little crass, but she isn’t mean, at least not to Dani. In fact, they get along well enough that Dani finds herself relaxing a bit around her. Serena talks about meaningless things, gossips about people at school, complains about cheer practice, and it’s a nice distraction.

Everything is a distraction at this point.

A distraction from Paige.

Paige, who’s back now.

The minute Dani opens the door and sees her standing there, everything crashes down on her. It’s like a punch to the gut. Paige looks the same and different all at once—still beautiful, still Paige, but something about her feels… distant. Or maybe it’s just Dani who’s distant. She can feel her defenses rising the moment she meets those familiar blue eyes.

“Paige,” Dani acknowledges, throat tightening.

Paige’s voice is soft, tentative. “Hey, Dan. Can we talk?”

Dani swallows hard. She shouldn’t let her in. She should shut the door, turn Paige away before it gets any harder. But she doesn’t. Instead, she steps aside, letting Paige walk into her home, into her life once again. “Sure. Come in.”

The living room is quiet, and Dani can feel the tension simmering in the air as she sits on the couch, body rigid. Paige stands a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, looking at Dani like she’s searching for something—an explanation, an apology, maybe a sign that Dani still cares.

But Dani can’t give her any of that. She can’t let herself break.

It starts with Paige asking, “What’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me you were back? Why didn’t you—”

And then the floodgates open between them. Dani tries to keep her face neutral during it, shutting down any emotion that threatens to spill out. She can’t afford to feel—if she lets herself feel anything, even for a moment, it’ll all come crashing down, everything wrong and bad spilling out. Her eyes stay cold, her voice flat, and every word that comes out of her mouth feels like poison she has to swallow herself. She tells herself she’s doing the right thing, that pushing Paige away is for her own good. That it’s for both of them. But God, it hurts.

Watching Paige’s face fall with every sharp word she throws at her is like watching someone chip away at a sculpture, little by little, until it’s unrecognizable. Dani sees the flickers of confusion, hurt, and then anger that spread across Paige’s features. She sees the way Paige’s shoulders tense, the way her eyes burn with disbelief. Paige has always been so expressive, her emotions right there on the surface, easy to read. And it kills Dani to know that she’s the cause of every negative expression that paints the blonde’s face.

The worst part is seeing the way Paige’s eyes gloss over, like she’s on the verge of tears but is too stubborn to let them fall. Paige isn’t the type to cry easily, but Dani knows her too well. She can feel Paige’s hurt even without seeing the tears. It’s palpable in the air between them, suffocating.

But Dani can’t break. She has to be strong, even though it’s the hardest thing she’s ever done. So, she says the words that’ll sever whatever hope Paige had left. She tells her that their kiss, that their confessions, were both mistakes. That she doesn’t want her, that it’s all just over. The words are like knives in her own chest, but she forces them out because she has no choice. If Paige knew the truth—about the camp, about her father’s threats, about everything—Paige would fight for her. She’d try to save Dani from it all. And Dani can’t let that happen. Everything would just get worse. It wouldn’t help anything.

Besides, whatever Paige and Dani have is wrong. It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong. Dani repeats it in her head. She fiddles with her necklace, her eyes flit to the crucifix on the wall, she thinks about how God doesn’t appreciate girls loving other girls. It’s wrong.

Nevertheless, when Paige finally leaves, when she turns her back and walks out the door, it’s like Dani’s entire world collapses in on itself. She’s built a wall around herself for weeks, convincing herself that this is what she’s needed to do. But the second the door closes behind Paige, it all comes tumbling to the ground. The numbness she’s been clinging to melts away, leaving behind raw, unbearable pain.

It’s wrong anyways, she tries to remind herself. It would’ve never worked out. God doesn’t permit it.

But that doesn’t seem to matter. Because no matter how wrong it is, it fucking hurts.

Dani presses her forehead against the door, her whole body trembling as the sobs begin to escape. She didn’t cry in front of Paige. She held it together, made sure to be strong, made sure that Paige wasn’t aware of what’s truly going on. But now, with no one watching, Dani just breaks. Her shoulders shake as the tears come hard and fast, her chest heaving as she lets it all out. The sobs are uncontrollable, wracking her body as she finally allows herself to feel everything she’s been holding back since the day she was dropped off at camp back at the beginning of June.

She cries for the years of friendship she’s just destroyed. For the love she has for Paige that she has to—and will continue to—deny. For the fact that she has to pretend not to care when every fiber of her being screams that she still does. She cries because she knows she’s just shattered Paige’s heart, and in doing so, she’s shattered her own.

Her father’s voice echoes in the back of her mind, a cruel reminder of why she’s done this. She can’t be with Paige, can’t even be her friend. Not if she wants to keep Paige safe from the consequences, not if she wants to keep them both pure in God’s eyes. Besides, if Dani even tried to slightly interact with the blonde, her father would never allow it, and Dani knows the lengths he’ll go to if he thinks Dani’s stepping out of line. The threats he made over the summer, the way he sent her to that camp to “fix” her—it isn’t something she can let Paige be part of. And it’s certainly not something she’ll let herself be subject to again.

(Besides, she has Beau. She likes Beau.) (Enough.)

But the knowledge doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make it easier to breathe through the sobs that wrack her chest. Dani feels like she’s drowning, suffocating under the weight of everything she’s just lost. Paige has been her best friend for over a decade. She’s been the one constant in Dani’s life, the person who has understood her better than anyone else. And now, Dani’s pushed her away, and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to get her back.

Eventually, the sobs slow, leaving Dani feeling hollow and empty. Her tears soak through the fabric of her tank top, and her throat is raw from crying. She doesn’t know how long she stands there, leaning against the door, but it feels like an eternity. All she can think about is Paige’s face as she left, the way her eyes had looked so broken, so betrayed.

Dani did this. She has to live with it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to the empty room, though the words are meant for Paige.

OCTOBER 2019 (PRESENT DAY)

Paige was right. Dani is a coward.

She knows she is. She thinks about it constantly. She thinks about that night, at the party, where she and Paige fought. She thinks about what Beau called her. She thinks about how she didn’t step in, how she didn’t defend Paige. She thinks about how she’s settled into a routine that feels like she’s merely a spectator in her own life. She thinks about how she hasn’t done anything to try and change it. She thinks, she thinks, she thinks.

She thinks a lot.

About certain things.

Certain people.

(Paige.)

She tries and tries to fight it, but her mind is rogue, a resistance that always has a mantra of Paige, Paige, Paige whether it’s in the front, the corner, or the back of her cerebrum.

She dates Beau. That doesn’t change. She knows who he is—not a good person. He’s arrogant, dismissive, and often cruel, but Dani finds herself in his company night after night. It’s not that she doesn’t recognize his red flags; she does. But there’s a twisted sense of comfort in being with someone who embodies the superficial, the expected. Beau is a mask she can wear, something to hide what’s beneath. What she doesn’t want people to see.

So, she dates Beau. She kisses him. They do other stuff a lot, too. He always initiates it, but she never stops it. It’s okay—not great, not terrible. It’s not exactly who she’d prefer to do that kind of thing with—but, who she would exhibits every single little thing that’s wrong with her. Every single little thing that she’s been trying to shake out of her, off of her, since she arrived at that camp. God doesn’t appreciate it. And so neither does Dani.

School has become her other distraction. A good one, too.

She retakes the ACT. When she gets her score back, she’s happy with it, a rare moment of relief and pride.

College applications weigh on her as well, and she’s certainly had the time to do them. She only applies to two school. Minnesota—her dad wants her to stay in-state, somewhere close. And, trust her, she knows how deluded it sounds, but—she applies to Connecticut, too. Don’t ask her. She doesn’t even really know why.

She focuses heavily on her Calc class, her AP Bio class, her AP Lit work. She focuses, she gets good grades, she makes her teachers and maybe even her father proud. She’s just doing her best, distracting herself. (Though it doesn’t help that, without fail, every single day Paige’s stare bores holes into Dani’s back in Lit. All she wants is to continue her distractions, to continue her streak of nearly perfect scores, but those baby blues burn into her skin from behind and it makes Dani’s heart race.)

She continues on with photography, too. She goes to the football games and some of the other sports—soccer, field hockey, etc.—and takes her photos for yearbook. It’s a good distraction until she spots Paige in the student section (this happens every Friday night), and Dani’s mood seems to simmer out.

Paige is everywhere. Fucking everywhere. School, games, Dani’s head. It doesn’t matter. She never leaves.

Dani wishes she would go and wishes she would stay all at once.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn huskies #wbb #wcbb #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #hopkins p fic #take me to church #wlw

156 notes · View notes

enhadiares · 6 months

Note

Hiiiii ❤️ Little request 🥰👉👈

can you do Enha Jay # mafia something like that it's kinda rare to find fics like that

love your fics so much sorry if i bothered you

🕷️A/N: IM SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO ANSWER YOU I REALLY AM 😭🙏 I HOPE YOU FORGIVE ME AND LIKE THIS ☹️☹️ I'll make a part of this if people like it and make it more yandere.

CHANCE

🕷️Warning: YANDERE THEMES , mentions of gun shot

🕷️ Pairing: mafia!Jay × doctor!reader

🕷️Synopsis:In the heart of a bustling city, Dr. (Reader) a renowned surgeon known for her unwavering commitment to saving lives, finds herself entangled in an unexpected situation when a notorious mafia leader, Jay Park, is brought into her emergency room, bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound and what's worse is that , he gets obessed with her.

It was a usual day for (reader). The sun shining brightly, doing it's job perfectly showcasing her . How she was at her workplace again right on time . Very punctual indeed. With being punctual (reader) was also very hardworking.

She's a doctor at the be:lift hospital. She loves her job . It gives her a sense of comfort knowing she helps people heal , maybe there's a chance that she would save someone from dying.

Life is a very valuable thing which you can get just once . There may be second chances and she's here to give people just that. Second chance to live their life again , this time while taking care of their mistakes , learning from them and not repeating them again.

Second chances , very fascinating and amusing aren't they? Some people get second chance while some don't , it's upon fate .

Back to (reader) , she had just completed an operation successfully , saving yet another life. She felt at ease knowing she gave someone another chance to live .

Suddenly her peace was interrupted by loud noises , people were screaming in a hospital? Oh how rude - she thought. She was going to go stop them and ask why they were screaming in a hospital in the first place , they should know that it might disturb the patients.

But just as she was about to open the door she heard footsteps , they were getting louder as seconds passed by implying that someone was coming towards her . They also sounded like they were in a hurry . Maybe someone is very serious! - a thought crossed her mind and without any further ado she opened the door only to be my by 6 men , all in a similar attire : a black shiny and shimmery blazer , colour like that of a black hole with shining black boots where one could see their reflection. Upon studying their faces , she could sense they were panicking.

“Are you the doctor? Hurry up , he got shot!” one of the guy stated. He looked young yet authoritative, like he had some power.

(Reader) quickly nodded , it was about someone's life! She has to save him. She called out for some nurses and took the injured patient to the operation ward while the other waited outside for them.

He got shot? How would he get shot? He isn't dressed up like a cop. Is he a criminal? Her eyes widen at the thought but she wasn't sure about the assumption she's making . Should she prioritize saving the life of a potential criminal , or adhere strictly to her oath as a healer?

As Dr. L/n and her team work tirelessly to stabilize the patient's condition, tension fills the air. The presence of the person's six brothers, each with a intimidating aura as his own, looms over the hospital.

As the operation progresses, Dr. L/n is faced with unexpected challenges. The bullet has caused severe damage, and the patient's condition deteriorates rapidly. Despite her expertise, she fears that his chances of survival are slim.

With time running out, Dr. l/n makes a bold decision. Drawing upon all her skills and determination, she pushes herself to the limit, refusing to give up on her patient. In a high-stakes gamble, she performs a risky procedure that could either save the patient's life or seal his fate.

As the operation reaches its critical moment, a hush falls over the operating room. Every second feels like an eternity as Dr. L/n and her team fight to wrestle the patient back from the brink of death.

Finally, the monitors beep with renewed vigor, signaling a glimmer of hope. Against all odds, his heart begins to beat steadily once more, and his breathing stabilizes.

The surgery is a success.

A sigh of relief escapes her as she removes her mask to breath properly.

----

She goes out to inform the six individuals outside the room , awaiting for their companion to be saved.

“The surgery was a success. The patient is out of danger now”

She could hear multiple sighs of relief. They all felt like they could finally breath again , their tensed shoulders relaxed a bit after hearing the good news.

“You'll have to come with me now , I have some questions to ask" said Dr. l/n . She needed to know what exactly caused this.

“We need to see hyung first” the young yet intimidating guy proclaims.

“sure this way , but only two of you can enter as we can not have he patient feeling overwhelmed” (reader) sighs yet expresses her duties.

“I"ll go check on him guys” states the young guy

“I"ll accompany you !" Another voice asserts . He looked mature , maybe he is the eldest .

Dr l/n leads the way to the operating room where he patient lies . Upon reaching the guys rush towards him while she stays back just to observe.

Meanwhile Jay finally regained his consciousness back and opened his eyes , to be met with a sight of an angel , or so he thought.

Was he already in heaven? Oh he can't be with the number of crimes he has committed. So who is this angel like individual?

Upon seeing his eyes open , the other two individuals rush towards him.

“Jay! Are you okay?” questions the elder guy

Oh so his name is Jay - thinks (reader)

The younger one hits him “ofcourse he is not fine heeseung hyung , would you be fine if you were shot?”

“I'm just trying to be caring Jungwon!”

There goes their introduction too.

Despite the chaos and danger that surrounds him, Jay is captivated by her grace and skill, feeling a stirring within him that he's never experienced before.

As Jay awakens in the recovery room, his thoughts are consumed by Dr. L/n . Entranced by her beauty and kindness, he becomes obsessed with the idea of making her his own, convinced that she is the one who can bring light into his dark world afterall she's the one who brought him back to life right?

Jay is occupied with the thoughts of his newfound obsession, but his is brought back to reality by his two companions inquiring about his condition. To which he replies that it's fine because he can't seem to focus on anything else than the angel standing infront of his eyes.

He's observing her - Her beautiful face as if carved especially by God , every inch of her face and body screams perfection to him. Her shiny black lucious hair which turns brownish under the lights , her small button nose , or her eyes - she possesses brown almond-shaped eyes, framed delicately by medium-length eyelashes that accentuate her gaze. Her lips, adorned with a soft shade of pink, exude a subtle allure, adding a touch of warmth to her features.

Oh he was down bad for her . Was this what people refer to as love at first sight?

A knock interrupts all their activities.

“We all need you outside , the patient needs to rest and we need your statement” says a nurse

They bid their byes and inform him that he'll be out soon but all he can think about is how to get his hands on his angel and make her his.

----

The interrogation is stopped. The individuals were influential people and so they can do whatever they wished and they did not wish for this information to be out so they hushed everyone with their power. They wanted jay to be safe so they commanded for him to be shifted at their house where a doctor would help him if needed and fortunately for Jay , (reader) was chosen since she operated on him.

----

The next day , Jay is shifted to the nursery that is located in his big mansion. (Reader) was surprised at how big the mansion was , so they were rich rich.

Upon entering she also noticed alot of individuals wearing black blazer with guns in their hands . Were they that rich that they needed bouncers? The girl thought .

She helped Jay get comfortable and brought him lunch in time . While feeding him , she decided to interrogate him personally, maybe he could provide her with some information.

(Reader): Mr. Jay, can you recount the events leading to your injury?

Jay: It was a confrontation with a rival organization. We were negotiating a business deal when things turned violent.

(Reader): Were there any specific triggers that escalated the situation?

Jay: It seemed like a premeditated ambush. They were armed and ready when we arrived at the meeting point.

(Reader): Did you have any indication of hostility prior to the encounter?

Jay: Not explicitly, but tensions have been escalating between our groups for some time.

(Reader): I see. And how did you manage to escape the altercation?

Jay: I made a split-second decision to flee when the gunfire erupted, sustaining this injury in the process.

(Reader) : and what exactly do you do if I may ask?

Jay: You'll get know soon.

He expressed making (reader) frown . Why is it not the right time? What does he do that can't be spoken casually? Her thoughts are interrupted when someone comes barging in the room.

“Jay hyung I'm glad you are alright, we are planning to make them regret their actions by acquiring their company and killing them”

Her eyes widen at the word killing that the younger individual just slipped so casually. Was she in danger? Are these criminals?

“You should really read the room and check your surroundings before you speak Niki” said Jay rather calmly .

“i know I said soon but i didn't know it would be this soon , but now you know I guess. I am Jay Park - a mafia , a criminal or whatever your vocabulary describes individuals like me, but don't be scared , we won't harm you” he said with a eeire smile

All the words went from one ear and escaped through another , all (reader) heard was that he's a mafia. Confused and terrified, she finds herself thrust into a nightmare as Jay reveals his true identity but she knew better , she needed to act smartly and calmly. She took a deep breath .

“That's none of my business Jay , although I'm glad that I'm reassured about my safety”

Despite her initial fear, she senses a vulnerability within him so she doesn't ponder further . Niki mutters an apology and quickly leaves before he gets yelled at.

“I"ll be leaving tomorrow either way” speaks yn

“No you're not” Jay replies casually as if it was supposed to be common sense

“Umm yes I am , a nurse would be replacing me tomorrow” She filled him in with the necessary information

“No you won't ever be leaving me , this is your house from now on”

Her eyes widen at the words that left his mouth but later she started laughing.

“Omg you had me there Jay , I must say . You have a great sense of humour” she stopped laughing when she noticed Jay's face remained monotonous and serious . No sign of humour could be sensed from him.

“you're joking right?” questions yn in disbelief

“Whatever you want to think but you aren't going anywhere . If you can't piece it together , I'll piece it out for you . I love you and now you are mine ”

Would reader give Jay a chance ? Or would he need a second chance?

283 notes · View notes

bones4thecats · 2 months

Note

Hello, I hope you're having a great day. You may remember my last request, involving the early years and Ace's younger sister. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to ask for a part two, maybe the early years trying to win over the reader and Ace freaking out over the betrayal of his friends, who are flirting with his younger twin.

Ace Finds Out His Friends Like His Twin

Characters: Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Epel Felmier, Jack Howl, and Sebek Zigvolt Requester: @marinahavik A/N: This is more of Ace chasing the Reader around in a growing rage of his friend's flirting with his sibling. But, I do hope you like this! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Overprotective Ace ig??? ⚠️ First Part -> Here

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Ace Trappola ═══════════════════════════╝

🪅 Ever since you arrived at the College, Ace was surprisingly well-behaved. He must've been trying to impress his younger twin and make sure they stay in line at work. Or he just wanted something to rub in their face, who knows?

🪅 As you hung out around him and his friends, he noticed just how close the other first years were getting to be with you. Before he knew it, you were messaging them whilst he hung around in your spare room with you

🪅 And he then saw that one, or even multiple, of them would come by in the mornings before classes and walk around with you whenever he was free. Heck, he'd even see a couple of them bring you to their club meetings!

🪅 These guys were going too far! They may be friends, but nobody, I repeat, nobody, steals his younger twin's time away from him!

🪅 As he walked into Heartslabyul after a long day and opened your room's door, since he complained the most to you, he was shocked to see you and the rest of his friends in there. It was like you were best friends!

🪅 The worst part was that the damned fools were obviously flirting with you!

🪅 He needed to speak to them immediately.

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Deuce Spade ═══════════════════════════╝

♠️ Deuce was getting close to you by a couple ways; acts of service and physical affection

♠️ The first day you and him actually hung out together over the two weeks you were there at the College, he helped you out by carrying some books that Crewel wanted you to bring around to Trein. And, since you had no classes, helping out the staff was the least you could do to keep yourself not bored

♠️ He was amazed at how similar, yet different from Ace you were

♠️ You looked just the same, the same ginger hair and the same bright scarlet eyes. But, to him, they looked so much different when compared to your brother

"Hey, Deuce!" You called, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Huh- oh, sorry about that, Y/N. I must be tired."

"I told you not to overexert yourself during your running yesterday! I swear, you're just as troublesome as my dumbass brother."

♠️ A small blush appeared on his face as you cupped his cheek and began to wipe a small layer of sweat away from his brow. But before you could ask when he had his club meeting that day, you heard his phone ring; it was Ace's ringtone

"Sorry Y/N. If Ace calls, it's something stupidly important." Deuce apologized, looking at you nervously and slightly heavy with a feeling of sorrow.

♠️ You just nodded before handing him a deck of cards, saying they were specialized to his taste. And he could play literally any game with them, before running off to find another one of the guys. Maybe Jack was free?

♠️ Deuce picked up his phone and asked where you were with a quick and pitchy tone. The spade-marked man just cocked an eyebrow curiously as he neared Ace's location

"I figured you needed me for something?"

"No! Where the hell is Y/N?!"

"...Uh oh..."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Jack Howl ═════════════════════════════╝

🐺 The sound of his phone going off made Jack sit up from his bed, he had been trying to cool off from taking a small run. He was going to shower, but, since he wasn't that sweaty, there really was no point until maybe the morning

🐺 He looked at his phone and noticed that you had sent him a message, but instead of others, he clicked on it immediately and began to read it aloud to himself

"Heyo Jackie, just wanted you to know I'm heading by. Ace-hole needed Deuce, so I decided to come swing by you. Hope that's cool 'cause I'm just outside the dorm's entrance."

🐺 Wait- you were coming by now?!

🐺 Standing up and looking around his room, Jack grabbed his nearby sleeveless hoodie and pulled it on. While it was hot in the dorm that day and wearing black wasn't ideal, at least it was something

🐺 He then heard the door being knocked on and your cheery voice come through

"Yo, I'm hear, Jack!"

"On my way!"

🐺 Pulling down his hood and making sure his leggings were tied on tightly, Jack opened the door and smiled, allowing you entrance into his room. You just smiled and skipper merrily before sitting down on his bed like you have done many times when bored and began chuckling at him

"What's funny?" He asked, his ears slightly going down at your reaction to him. Did he look funny?!

"You have a few cactus needles in your hair... by where your ears are. Were you in a rush when you saw my message? Do you care about how you look when I come by?" You teased. "How adorable, Jackie."

🐺 Jack didn't notice just how flushed his face was until you got a call from Epel, making him look up slightly down. Great, he just embarrassed himself in front of you and wasn't going to able to make a decent comeback

"Sorry Jack. Epel said he needed some help with hiding from Vil. And you know he's done something bad when he needs my help with hiding."

🐺 The beastman nodded as you walked up to him and hugged him, using a small comb you had and brushed out his spines before handing him it and yelling for him to be careful next time he danced around in his room

🐺 After a few minutes, Jack heard his door be swung open and he noticed the two first-year Heartslabyul students breathing heavily as they asked where you were

"She got a call from Epel for some help on hiding from Vil, why?"

"Son of a-!"

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Epel Felmier ════════════════════════════╝

🍎 Epel was hiding behind his closet door when he heard your familiar footsteps enter and close the room's door quietly behind yourself, making sure nobody looked in there

"Epel... ya' in there?"

"..."

"You're shorter than a dwarf."

"I'M NOT-!"

"Found you."

🍎 Looking slightly up at you, Epel groaned annoyed as you pat his head and asked what he had done to earn being hunted down by Vil, and probably Rook by proxy

"I may or may not have mixed some blue hair dye in Vil's shampoo..."

"...Huh?"

"Don't blame me! It was Grim's idea! I just went along with it."

"Oh, I'm not blaming you. I'm just surprised that I've never thought of that. I'm the boss of pranks for crying out loud!"

🍎 The first year looked at you and chuckled, obviously not surprised that you were a master of pranks. After all, nobody can just surprise Ace Trappola, one of the most jokingly-aware students at Night Raven College, easily

🍎 As Epel smiled at you, he began to wonder what your lips would feel like against his. Were they perhaps soft like the countryside's winds in the afternoon, or were they rough and demanding like the labor he was put through helping his family out? Or maybe even a mixture?

🍎 All of a sudden, you looked at your phone and noticed a photo being sent by an unknown number, but since you noticed the closet and the blonde-man standing in the photograph, you just pat Epel's shoulder and wished him luck

"What do you mean...?"

"Bonjour, Monsieur Crabapple!"

"Oh shit-!"

🍎 You waved as Rook dragged Epel away and to Vil, smiling as you began wondering who you should stop by to see next. Oh! Maybe Sebek was free for a little bit!

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Sebek Zigvolt ═══════════════════════════╝

⚡ Sebek was always busy when defending his 'Wakasama'. But, since Malleus was visiting his home for a couple days for an emergency sent by his Grandmother, he was running around on pure boredom and worry for how Malleus was doing

"Sebek! You good?"

⚡ Jumping slightly and readying himself in a fighting position, he calmed down when noticing that it was merely Y/N Trappola, Ace's younger twin, standing before him, asking if he was alright

"I'm perfectly fine, human. My personal feelings are none of your concern." He said, his voice barely raising to the tone he normally spoke in.

"Uh, Mr. 'Worshiping my best friend's father's son figure each day at a time', by the way you were speaking, you're not fine. You didn't even get a slight pitch in your voice."

⚡ Sebek watched as you swung yourself onto the window seat and smiled at him before patting the other side for him to sit down across from you

"Go ahead, sit down. I wanna talk to someone for more than five minutes today other than Ace."

⚡ He nodded and sat down, adjusting himself to sit straight before you pat his back, making him slightly hunch. Saying he didn't need to act so 'prim and proper' around you like the others. After all, you grew up with Ace of all people

⚡ Sebek and you spoke for the longest time, maybe over an hour. You don't know, but when you looked at your then-muted phone, you were shocked to see multiple, maybe even hundreds, of messages from your brother and friends. Mainly Ace though

"What are you looking at, human?!" Sebek asked, his voice being raised to his normal volume. Though, he did hold it back slightly when asking you the question.

"Just Ace's messages from 6-7. One of them says, 'If you do not answer me within the next couple minutes, I'm gonna go feral' with a demon emoji and firework one."

⚡ You laughed as Sebek sat there and read the next few messages you told him to do. What was wrong with Ace...?

⚡ The dorm's door then was slammed open, making the remaining Diasomnia members look up in shock and confusion at the loud and abrupt noise

"YOU."

"Oh sprinkles..."

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rieamena · 2 months

Note

Got any headcanons for a Billy Kid that accidentally catches a computer virus, causing him to basically simulate a common cold?

not! a computer whiz—

billy who thinks he's dora the explorer. rummaging around in an abandoned storage unit with nekomata for starlight knights merch (he never found any). he stumbled upon an old computer and "thought it would be cool to give it a try". he immediately shut down.

billy whose system starts executing a sneezing subroutine at random intervals, causing him to "sneeze" but they're really just small bursts of static and sound effects

billy whose voice becomes slightly garbled and distorted, as if he has a stuffy nose. occasionally, he'll give out a couple electronic coughs

billy who moves much slower. his energy levels are severely drained and the fluidity in his movements are practically gone

billy who inevitably starts glitching. his speech occasionally cutting out or repeating words. "i told you guys before! i━━━━and then we we we we━━━━dont you understa━stand?!"

billy whose internal fans can no longer keep up. the virus causes his internal systems to overheat more easily so he has to spend his healing days propped in front of a air conditioner

billy who swears he's funny. he fakes his death at least four times. "is this the end━━the end?" he weakly says, arm reaching up towards the bland ceiling. and no one takes him seriously. "am i━━am i goi━going to robot heaven?" and before you could even respond, nicole steps in, "you'd go to robot hell."

billy who becomes more vulnerable and needy, seeking your help and comfort. he will definitely lean on you (emotionally AND physically) and ask for reassurance that he'll be okay

billy who asks for paper to write messages when his voice bank betrays him. "SYSTEM ERROR: NEED HUGS" or "VIRUS DETECTED: SEND COOKIES" and other similar notes are scribbled all over the page

billy who thanks you and the crew for sticking by him. dealing with a sick robot is not for the weak

sorry it took so long :(

billy kid taglist

@pedrosimp137 @mary-moongood @linx-nyx @lemonboy011 @eisblume77

@amaryllisenvy @megan017 @astral-spacepumpkin @corrupted-tale @inkycap

@thurstonw @plapsha @lavenderthewolf @kurakusun @miymiymiy

@sweetadonisbutbetter @cobraaah @mochiitoby @clickingchip @bardivislak

@h3r6c00k13 @cozi-cofee @apestegui-y @luvuyuuji @theitdoitnobody

@fersitaam @cathrnxxo @monkepawbz @fl1ghtl3ssdrag0n @dabislilbaby

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junislqve · 4 months

Text

⟡ stay in my memories

when you had finally started to accept your past, it comes back to haunt you

pairs ex!jake + reader content angst kissing jake being toxic wordcount 1404 — find my other works

note ending is highkey rushed and was supposed to be happy, but this is self indulgent, so! i also listened to memories an ungodly amount while writing this

YOU HUFFED AS YOUR DOORBELL RANG FOR THE SECOND TIME. it was 11pm. a few minutes ago, your friend had just left after picking up her cat from the week-long vacation she had with her boyfriend. you had sensed she’d forgotten something.

when it rang once more, you begrudgingly stood up dragging your legs to the front door. the lights to your small living room was already off save for one that was only enough to illuminate the front door.

you sigh as the door click open, “you really need to stop forget-”

“hi, babyy”

your heart dropped. not because of how the man in front of you accidentally stumbled and now practically has his boy weight supported by you, and also somehow not because of how his hands circle your body and rest on your waist like how it used to.

it was his voice that did.

his voice that you swore on everything you would never want to hear again. hating how it sounded so much you’d bail on any man that sounded similar to him or had his accent.

how could you not when only a few simple words uttered with that voice had your mind reeling? repeating the same heart wrenching sentence in your head over and over again, it engraved itself.

it was pouring outside. you’ve been very stuffed with schoolwork and your finals coming up. papers spread out everywhere on your table and books scattered on your bedsides and floor.

you felt a tickle on your ankle and watched as your dog rubbed its side on your body, begging for attention. you chuckle, dropping your pen and bending down to pick her up. sitting her on your lap as you rubbed its back.

“i’m sorry, i just need to finish this paper and i’ll promise i’ll give you some attention, okay?” you coo at her, it hung her head low but complied, laying her head on your lap.

a moment later, your phone lit up. you stared at the caller and with no hesitation immediately picked it up, a smile growing on your face, “hi, babe-”

“let’s break up”

you stopped. the pouring rain seemed to have hushed in a matter of seconds, the air around you felt constricted. your dog stayed silent, looking up at you in confusion.

“what?”

“it’s just going to be hard keeping up our relationship in the long run. i’m graduating and you still have two years”

“so?”

“so i don’t want to hold each other back” he sounded frustrated.

“so that’s it?” you ask, voice heavy. “you’re going to leave me because you don’t want to wait two years for me?”

“you’re twisting my words”

“that’s exactly what you said, jake”

“i’m sorry”

no he’s not.

“no, you’re not” you say, you wait for a second too long before hanging up. you damn well know he’s not, because if he was you wouldn’t be crying as hard as you are right now. your chest wouldn’t have felt as painful as it does.

there was nothing but confusion that clouded your mind the following days. you were trying to reason with yourself why he’d ever break up with you.

your boyfriend is the sweetest yet most comforting guy you’ve ever known. or at least, was. you thought there must be something wrong with you.

everything reminded you of him. back then, you thought you hit the lottery when he landed as your first love as well as your first boyfriend. you never doubted your relationship, he was always there for you whenever you needed him and you never turned him down if he needed a shoulder.

every waking moment after the breakup felt plain to you. habits and hobbies turned more of a chore, some of the things you did were picked up from his habits.

you were quiet about your breakup. it took a total of 13 days until anyone found out. your friends having to fish it out of you when they felt how quiet and more zoned out you’ve become.

for three months, jake’s name was not allowed to be uttered. it was a rule your friend made. she knew anything correlated to him could tip you off, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

she didn’t know that you’d still visit his old album from time to time just to feel something. to remember all the ways he loved you and all the ways he wasn’t there to, anymore.

you can’t let go the feeling of how he would hug you, all the times he would kiss you giggles filling out every corner of the room. the moments he’d lay on the bed with you, whispering sweet nothings lulling you to sleep.

you still can feel all of that, a ghost of the past you were never willing to let go.

you wished time could heal all of you completely. because now when you swore you have finally started to move on, he has his body slumped on yours, breath fanning your neck.

“jake?” you curse yourself from how quiet it came out. your voice wavering, your breath shallow before you slowly walk in, his body still slumped on yours.

he hummed, “i missed you” he dug his head deeper into your neck, making you physically sick.

you tug him off, stabling him by his shoulders and you wished you didn’t. you could see his state now. his hair was all messed up, face tinted red from drinking and he had that pout. his eyes attempting to blink itself awake as he looks at you through sleepy eyes.

“jake” you say again, finding your voice. that pout of his grew at your tone.

“don’t you miss me?” he asks, voice so soft you almost gave in. his hands still hover on your waist and you’d lie if you said you weren’t fully aware of it.

“i’ll grab you some water” you say, walking out of his reach. the heat from his body slowly seeping away as you walk to grab a glass of water.

you turn back to see him sat on the couch, his head laying on the arm rest, legs sprawled sideways. tapping him on the shoulder, his eyes crease open along with that smile of his. your heart clenched.

he grabs the cup and downs it in one gulp, “thank you” he says quietly.

when you were about to grab it and walk back to the kitchen, jake had tugged your shirt causing you to topple on top of him on the couch.

“you haven’t said you missed me back” he said, head buried in your hair, breathing you in.

you gathered all of you to push against him and stand up, “jake, stop”

“i know you’re sober”

it barely showed, but you could see the slight waver of his smile.

“i miss you” he says for the third time tonight, eyes open but still slightly glazed.

“you’re being selfish” tears start to well up. it’s overwhelming to say the least. how could he just show up at your doorstep months later giving you false hope? after everything he’s made you go through.

“i know” he starts, sitting up slightly, “and i know i have no right to come back here begging for you to come back. but i miss you”

“you should leave” you look away.

“please”

“jake”

“i’m sorry” he says, “but i’ll do better this time”

maybe it was those eyes that convinced you, or the sliver of sincerity you pretended to see in his eyes or maybe once again it was that voice that allured you. but you gave in.

he brought you in for a kiss. one that you’ve undoubtedly miss all these months of being apart. jake just knew how to bring you back into his arms. he held you all night long and between the kiss and the cuddling, you dozed into a sleep you haven’t felt for months.

you shifted, you peek at the light hitting your eyes from the slip of the curtains.

you rolled over, the space beside you, cold.

you sat up, the blanket falling off your body as you looked around the living room. trying to grasp at the hazy memory of last night.

the table in front of the couch is neat. when your eyes focused there was a scrap of paper placed on it.

‘i don’t deserve you, i’m sorry

-love, j’

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