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holylulusworld · 21 days ago

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Their little maid (2)

Summary: Mafia business is dirty. The brothers need someone to clean up their mess and more.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader x Nick Fowler

Warnings: shy reader, flirty brothers, mafia business, money trouble, mentions of anxiety, pushy Bucky/Nick, overwhelmed reader

Their little maid masterlist

Catch up here: Their little maid (1)

A new job is a good thing. A new job means money and safety. A new job also means that your new bosses dictate your life.

You didn’t have a say when they sent people to get your belongings. Strangers touched all of your things, even your panties, and brought them to Nick and Bucky’s home.

Even though the room they offered you includes a walk-in wardrobe, access to a huge bathroom with a bathtub, and a reading nook, it doesn’t feel like home.

It feels like you’re staying at an overpriced, fancy hotel suite, and you don’t even dare touch anything. You look around the stylish room, sighing deeply. It’s not cozy or inviting. Every piece of furniture looks expensive and modern, but you already miss your old, worn-out armchair.

“You’re not happy.” Bucky leans in the door frame as you stand in the room, looking left and right. You didn’t unpack a thing in case you wanted to leave. Not that you have a choice. Without a job, you cannot pay rent. “Y/N, what is wrong with the room?”

“It’s not a home,” you hug yourself and try to calm down. “My armchair is not here, and I miss my bed and couch.”

“Doll, everything was old and worn out at your apartment. We got everything belonging to you.”

“I love my old armchair,” you sniff. “I know it’s not fancy, but it was mine. I got it from my favorite bookstore. The owner gave it to me after he had to close the store.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, “you have fond memories of the armchair.” He pushes off the door frame to step toward you. “How about this? We drive to your apartment tomorrow, and you get the armchair to make this room your new home.”

“I miss my couch too,” you say and point at the uncomfortable chaise lounge stand in the huge room they offered to you. “That’s not for sitting, only for show.”

Bucky laughs. “I didn’t buy it, doll. It was my mother. She helped us with the interior. I think she found it pretty.”

“It’s pretty but useless.” You wipe your wet eyes and try not to break down as memories of your home flood your mind. “I can’t sit on it.”

“Do we have a problem?” Nick casually walks into your room. “Buck, is something wrong? Does she have problems settling in?”

“She’s missing her armchair and couch. The chaise lounge is unusable according to our sweet new maid.” You shrink into yourself at Bucky’s words. The last thing you wanted was to anger your new bosses.

You wince and clutch your hands to your chest. “I’m sorry…” You choke out, afraid they will fire you now. Everything happened so fast, and you weren’t able to adapt to your new job and life.

“Buck, don’t scare her,” Nick huffs. “It’s alright, sweetness. We will get your couch and armchair and throw that monstrosity out of your room.” He flashes you a stunning smile, making you feel warm.

“Nick,” Bucky hisses. “I offered to get the armchair not months ago. We can have dinner after we get it.”

“How do you want to get it here?” You question. “It’s a big armchair, not a small one.”

Bucky grins. “Doll, we have our ways. If we say something shall happen, it happens. Do not worry. Get your jacket and shoes, and we can go for a ride.”

Going for a ride meant ending up stuck between Nick and Bucky in the backseat of a luxurious SUV. Clint, one of the people getting your belongings earlier today, is driving while his partner, Natasha—a stunning redhead—is chatting him up.

“So, doll, what does a librarian do all day?” Bucky asks. His thigh brushes yours, and you flinch because you can’t move away. Nick is glued to your other side; his warm body makes you all tingly. “Is the life of a librarian exciting?”

“Not really,” you murmur, afraid to speak any louder. “I ordered books, journals, and other resources. Most of the time, I was busy cataloging and keeping track of library materials. I helped patrons find books and to conduct research.”

Nick nods thoughtfully. His hand brushes your knees as he leans closer to hand Bucky your keys. “Sounds nice. I assume you liked your job.”

“Very much,” you gasp and start talking about your job and how you loved to help people. You keep out that it was nice to be around so many books, too. “Sadly, they had to close the library, and I didn’t have enough money to open a bookstore.”

Bucky and Nick share a look as you keep on talking. It’s the longest you've spoken to them since your job interview.

“Do you know the movie You’ve Got Mail?” You ask, and both men shake their heads. “I wanted a bookstore like Meg Ryan had in the movie. I know it’s a stupid romantic idea.” You drop your gaze and fall silent. “No one would’ve come to my store either way.”

The car stops in front of your apartment complex, and you suddenly feel anxious. These men live in a mansion, and now, they are about to look at your small apartment. “I can go in alone.”

“Doll, don’t be ridiculous,” Bucky laughs and opens the door. He slips out, offering his hand to you. You frown. He’s much too nice to a maid. “We got strong men who will carry your things.”

He jerks his head toward a group of men waiting in front of your apartment complex. You chew your lower lips and wring your hands. “Why are they here?”

“I told you,” Bucky smirks when you shy away from him the moment he tries to touch your cheek, “if we want something to be done, it’s considered done.”

“What my brother tries to tell you is that we will take a look at your home, and you can decide what you want to take with you. The guys will lift the heavy stuff,” Nick explains as you try to not panic.

Strangers will walk around your home, and you don’t feel comfortable having strangers in your home or near you. Reluctantly, you follow Nick and Bucky as they start to chat about their plans for tomorrow.

They act as if you aren’t even there when they start talking about their miserable love life and awful dates. You feel sorry for them and offer a tight smile.

“I bet Y/N wouldn’t leave me waiting at the restaurant or look at another man while we are having dinner,” Bucky suddenly grabs your hand to kiss it. “Right, doll?”

“Uh—no,” you squeak because Nick grabbed your other hand to mirror his brother. “That’s not nice.”

“She’s nice and so polite,” Nick whispers and grins wolfishly at his brother. “Right, brother.”

“Let’s get the armchair first.” Bucky narrows his eyes at his brother. “Patience is a virtue, Nick. I told you so many times before. Let’s not hurry things this time.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Nick replies as he looks you up and down. “We have all the time we need…”

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #nick fowler #mafia au #bucky barnes x reader #nick fowler x reader #bucky barnes x reader x nick fowler #shy reader #maid reader

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fashionteahouse · 2 months ago

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out of your league - paul x reader

AN: Thank you so much to all you for the loving and supporting the last twelve parts of this story🥹💜 you guys are the best !!! <<prev >>next

You don’t remember falling asleep, but the last memory was you watching an old rerun of a show you liked on the couch.

When you blinked your eyes open, you rise from the bed in the bedroom. You sat up, rubbing your eyes. You yawn and look over to find Paul gone.

You carry on your day, washing your body in the shower and getting dressed. The canvas that was empty, was soon marked by charcoal. A wave of sadness poured onto the artwork, as you thought about everything that transpired recently.

By the end, you were happy that you made something, but on the other hand, you didn’t like the circumstance it took for it to happen.

Walking to Emily’s, your mind goes a mile a minute. Thoughts of last night’s situation made you rethink things.

You close the door behind you as Emily smiles and greet you. It’s still pretty early in the day, the faint noise of neighbor’s lawn mowers buzz about.

She hands you a homemade muffin, you accept it, feeling the hunger take over in your stomach.

“Sam is gone?” you ask her, as she nods. You let her do most of the talking until Sam does come in. You don’t see Paul come in. After Sam is done embracing Emily with his mouth, you speak to him while wringing your fingers a bit.

“Can I talk to you really quick?” you ask him. He nods and pulls away from Emily as you both make your way outside on the porch.

“Everything alright?” he asks you once the air settles.

“I don’t know…You trust Emily right? To be able to still live life without being scared, right?” you ask him.

“I guess you can say that. She doesn’t know but..sometimes if she’s running errands I check on her to make sure she’s safe.” he reveals to you but gives you a look, “Is this about Paul?”

You nod, “I’m not going to pour our problems onto you or anything, but it’s frustrating to know that he wants me stagnant. I get there’s danger out there but I’m always honest about where I am.”

Sam nods in agreement, “You definitely should talk to him. He went to the basketball court if you’re looking for him.” he says and place a compassionate hand on your shoulder. He turns to walk away but stops, “Don’t let his wolf bully you.” he says. As he walks in the house, you make your way to the basketball court.

Sure enough he’s there but a trickle of people are there too. You catch sight of him and call to him. He pauses the game and walks out of the entrance of the court, meeting you. His face is still hardened.

“We have to talk.” you say to him, not softening your voice. You weren’t gracing him with any sort of politeness after what he did. He looks to the side and sighs softly, “About what.”

“A lot.” you tell him.

He looks to you, “I don’t want to argue. Seriously.”

“We’re not arguing. We’re talking.” you say with dominance that surprised both you and him. The look he gave you let you know you really had his undivided attention.

“Let’s sit here.” you tell him. You both sit on a bench. He rests his elbows on his knees as you cross your arms with your leg crossed over your next leg. You don’t take your eyes off of him as he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Paul. I get you want to protect me. I really do. But, you can’t isolate me, thinking that’s the best way.” you start off.

“I’m not isolating you.” he says in denial.

“You are. You seriously got mad that I went with Emily to a bookstore instead of staying in the house.” you tell him, when he doesn’t say anything, you continue, “I’m not going to let you or anybody dictate what I can or cannot do. I’m honest about where I go so it’s not like I lie to you or anything. You call, I answer. You text, I answer. You just don’t trust me and it’s killing us.”

“I’m afraid, Y/N. I just don’t want anything to happen to you and I’m not there. That’s what will kill me.”

“Nothing’s going to happen. I don’t want you to keep speaking it into the air. I’ve been managing just fine even before you phased and we found out about all of this supernatural stuff.”

He sighs and looks ahead. He straightens up and leans back. His face is much more softening and he seemed to process the words from your mouth. He looks to you, “I’m sorry.”

“For?” you ask him.

“For.. Not trusting you.” he says.

“And?” you press on.

“And..Being angry with you. For making you feel bad, and being a bit controlling.” he says in a genuine manner.

You lean close to him, “A bit?”

This makes the corner of his lip rise a bit and he placed a hand on your knee as you lean your body to him. He then cups your chin and leans to give you a kiss but you pull back. His face looks as if he was a kid who just found out he isn’t getting anything for Christmas.

“You made me eat dinner alone. You’re not getting off that easy.” you tell him and he looks as if he is internally kicking himself. You rise up from the seat as he watched you with pitiful eyes.

“You can go back to your game. I swear, I will be at the beach.” you tell him and take his hands as he rises from the bench as well. He looks down at you with the same glum look.

But, it quickly replaces with a smirk when he says, “You sure you don’t want to watch me kick their asses?”

You softly chuckle as you give him a tight hug with your check pressed onto his chest. “I appreciate you, Paul. I really do. I love what we have.” you tell him and he hugs you back just as tight. He leans down and gives you a big kiss on the cheek anyway.

“I love what we have too.” he says softly back in your ear. Your stomach dance and flutter, filled with butterflies. You pull back to let him walk back to his match.

As you’re walking to the beach, you feel a buzz from your phone.

“Hey. Are you still at the beach ?”

You type back as the beach is almost in your view.

“Yeah. I actually just arrived.”

“Okay see you in a bit.”

You walk along, watching the water meet each other over and over again. The sea salt smell fill your nostrils as the feather light breeze dance on your skin.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there, but you feel a tap. You turn around and Bella is standing there with the promised book in her hands.

“Hi.” you say to her and she smiles back, “Hey.”

She holds it out for you to take. You take it in your own possession, you look at it to see the book was definitely used. It wasn’t messed up but it was evident she read it time and time again.

“How many times have you read this?” you ask her chuckling.

“More than I can count.” she admits.

“Well, thank you. I will try not to hog it for too long.”

“Take your time. I come down here a lot anyways.” she tells you.

You walk to the fallen log that’s near by, she followed you. You both sit down.

“What’s Forks like?” you ask her.

She shrugs, “It’s so so. I miss home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Arizona. I lived with my mom but I came here to be with my dad.”

“What do you like to do besides reading?” you ask her, zeroing in on a pebble thats sunbathing in the sand.

“Um…Not much..I mean I cook if you count that.” she says.

“I guess.” you tell her with a humor tone, “What about friends? You don’t hang out?”

“Not much. I um…spend most of my time with my boyfriend anyway so..” she says shaking her head and looks down.

“Oh. Well, same here. Besides reading, I draw from time to time.”

“Really?” she asks, her eyes filled with interest.

You nod, “For payback I can let you look through my sketchbook.” you say.

“Awesome.” she says smiling.

Your mind then clicks. You ask her the question that’s now itching your brain. “What’s your boyfriend’s name?”

“Edward. You have one right?” she answers.

“Yeah. Paul.” you tell her trying to keep your even tone but you finally put two and two together when Edward’s name hit your ears. This was the Bella Swan they were talking about. The one who is dating a cold one. She never told you her last name. You start to feel nervous.

“He lives here in La Push?” she asks. You nod. “Where is Edward now?” you ask, you don’t know why but you just had to know. You didn’t know if this chick lured people to him.

“He’s on vacation for the summer.” she just says in an uninvolved tone, you quickly learned that she’s not a good liar, “You’re pretty lucky that you get to still see yours.” Even the blind could see she missed him.

“I guess…Well, I’m going to go meet him. I’ll see you around?” you tell her as you stand up. Her face is a bit sullen as she nods and then look and sees that you left the book on the log.

“Oh! Don’t forget this.” she says and put it in your hands.

“I’ll see if Jake’s home. I can give you a ride if you want.” she adds on.

“It’s okay. I’ll walk.” you tell her.

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s no problem. I’m sure he’s on the way.” she tells you.

That’s how you were in the passenger seat of her truck. The truck drove slow but you could tell she didn’t mind at all.

“Here is fine.” you tell her at the basketball court.

“Which one is he?” she asks as she looks over at the tense game. Her eyes followed their movements, knowing she would never be as athletic as them.

You point to the one who steals the ball with ease and dribble it down the court.

“Wait..That’s your boyfriend?” she asks, her hand is still on the wheel but she forms it onto a point.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing..It’s just that, I heard some things..That’s all.” she says and shakes her head trying to dismiss her case.

“That’s kind of funny..I heard some things too…” you say with a knowing look that had her stuck, “Thanks for the ride.” you tell her and close her truck door before she could say anything else.

“You all suck ass!” Paul laughs as he savors his new victory. All of the opposing team’s faces were fallen. He tosses their ball back to them. You put some of your fingers in the holes of the fence as Paul walks over to you and sighs happily, “Did you see that?”

“Of course I did. They all suck ass.” you tell him, mimicking him. This only makes him laugh as he comes around from behind the fence to meet you without restrictions.

Moving closer, he brushed the back of his fingers down your arm to interlock your fingers with his.

“We should do something.” he says to you in an alluring voice.

“What?” you ask him, enjoying both souls being able to window each other.

“Do you want to go cliff diving with me?” he asks you.

You thought back to when you were there, remembering the height.

“Are you crazy?” you ask him with a worried look.

This only brings out a rich laugh from him, “It seems high, but it’s not that high.”

“Are we talking about the same cliffs?” you ask.

He nods, “You will love it. I promise.”

The excitement that bubbled all over his body language, made you curious about the expected activity. You allow him to lead you back to the house, changing into swimwear.

Peering over the overlapping water, you feel the soft breeze whip on your skin. You look to Paul, only finding a look of thrill as he watched the water below with you.

“Do you want me to hold you?” he asks you softly, sensing a sense of nervousness from you.

“Please don’t let go of my hand?” you ask in a small voice.

He casts an iron grip over your hand, making you feel like you wouldn’t be able to detach your hand from him even if you wanted to.

“Never.” he tells you with a covered look of solicitousness as he looks back at you.

You both walk closer to the edge, the noise that’s below is making sure to be heard, swimming in your ears.

You close your eyes, but then shake your head and open them again. You wanted to do it like ripping off a bandaid.

“Okay..3..2…1.” you count down and before you could process anything, you’re in the air.

The wind brushed up as you both got closer and closer to the water.

You allow the water to hug and welcome you, covering your entire being. Needing oxygen back into your lungs, you swim to the surface.

“Oh my god! Why was that actually so fun?” you say with a joyful smile on your face.

He forms his own devilish smile, “I told you.”

You both swim around the large body of water for a moment before he asks, “Do you want to go again?” You nod as you both make the way back to the top.

He lowers and bend his back, wanting you to hop on his back. Your arms wrap around his neck with him not caring how tight you have it. The screams weren’t from terror, they were from pure enjoyment. You loved how you got to just lay back and allow the water consume you. Swimming around and splashing each other, you both didn’t notice the sun setting.

“I’m starving.” Paul tells you as you lazily float on your back. You chuckle at the way he says it.

“Home or Emily’s?” you ask him.

“Home. We should shower.” he tells you while trickling drops of water from his hand onto your chest. You both swim to shore, walking back to the car, he holds you close to your body allowing his body heat to seep onto you.

You didn’t walk long before he scoops you up into his arms as he carries you to the car.

The hot steam fills the room, bringing an ethereal glow to both bodies. God knows how innocent the washing session was, but eyes were curious. It didn’t help with Paul catching you sneak glances down at him. He leans and captures your mouth. Pressing his hand at the back of your head to bring you to him.

It felt like forever since both lips touched, causing each other to feast on each other’s mouths. Before it got too hot and heavy, you rinse off. You feel a hand take yours and place it on his bare, soap covered flesh, before you knew it, you were sensually stroking him with his hips meeting your movements. Both of his hands were placed above you, pressed against the wet tiles with his head down at the sight, groaning and moaning at the feeling you were giving him before he steps back and lets his load swim down the drain.

Your body was tired but relaxed from the cliff diving. The shower helped with your muscles, still allowing you to move about in the kitchen.

As you were waiting for the dinner to finish cooking on its own, you check your phone. You view a text.

“Y/N I wasn’t trying to be rude. I’m sorry if I was.”

You type back to Bella’s apologies.

“It’s okay.”

Over warm food, you express something to Paul as he stuffs his mouth.

“Yeah, I’ll try to go with you.” he says to you when you tell him about the gallery opening in Seattle. You had asked him to come with you. He knew how to calm your nerves and that’s what you needed for that day. He didn’t know if he was going to be on duty that day.

As he washed the dishes, you barely could keep your eyes open but you wanted to read the book that was loaned to you. You lie in bed with the book standing up on your stomach with one hand holding it up and tried your best to let your eyes read the words.

Paul’s abrupt comment startled you a bit due to tiredness, “This is what you made?”

You look to see him holding the canvas, his eyes run over what you poured out from your heart. It made him feel something. The strokes of watercolor, brought out the emotion perfectly. It was so sad, it was beautiful.

“Yes.” you answer, “I made it today.”

He doesn’t say anything as he stared at it. Little to your knowledge, he didn’t know whether or not to feel sorry or proud. It was so good but it was obvious that you made what you felt. He gently sets it back down and lies next to you in bed.

You go back to reread a passage that you barely paid attention to from being drowsy. He plants an affectionate kiss on the side of your eye, your cheekbone and keeps his lips there.

He then lays on his back as you close your book and scoot closer to him. You curl up beside him and rest your arm and head on his chest, his breathing rise and fall, drifting you fast asleep.

You look down at your drawings, crying out fat tears. They fell down like flows of water. You picked up shredded pieces and each piece felt like your heart was the one in shreds. You cursed at the universe and you cursed everyone around you.

You woke up, glad that the dream wasn’t real, you tiredly smile to yourself as you were back in the real world. Tangled into each other’s bodies, Paul was sound asleep, snoring softly.

He wasn’t holding you too tightly, allowing you to slide out of the bed. With no set plans for the day, after using the bathroom, washing and brushing your teeth, you flopped on the couch and ate a bowl of cereal. Clicking through the channels, you land on a nostalgic program.

The soft chatter of the characters mixed in with the sounds of your crunches and the clink of the bowl. The show you were watching had your attention, you didn’t even notice Paul coming out and move in the kitchen.

He lifted the spoon to his mouth as he idly walked past you and sat on the couch. The episode ran its full course before Paul gets up and takes you and his bowl in the sink.

You read the message you have received from Jared.

“I don’t want to, but i still have to ask. are you coming to Kim’s birthday dinner tomorrow? we’re having it at Emily’s.”

“ :/ ” you type back.

Paul changes the television settings to support his game console. As soon as he got the news that he didn’t have to patrol until later on that night, he made plans to not move from his spot.

You get up to leave the room, feeling that he might want his space.

“Where are you going?” he asks, confusion was coating his tone.

You point out of the room but he smiles a little as he thrusts a second controller in your direction.

Your hands cover your eyes as he laughs at your reaction.

“What?” he tried to innocently ask.

“I can barely beat you in card or board games. What makes you think I can beat you on your machine?” you ask him.

“We’re not playing against each other. You will be on the same team as me. So you have to listen.” he teased the last part, you sat next to him, looking at the survival game.

The eerie music booms through the speakers, setting the mood, and spiking your nerves at the fact of possibly dying before moving on from level 1.

As the game loads in, he chuckles at your tense state at holding the controller and your gaze at the loading screen.

“Y/N, just relax.” he says to you but the screen starts rolling in with both characters stagnant in the middle of the selected setting.

“Okay, follow me.” he says to you as you move the controller’s joystick to make your character follow him.

“So, what do we do?” you ask, your eyes is focused on the screen in front of you, opposing to Paul’s relaxed body language.

“All you have to do- okay Y/N, pick up the gun right there. ” he says to you as a disfigured creature make its way toward you. It’s moving slowly since the level is only at 1, giving you enough time to equip the weapon.

Instead, you’re bending down but not picking it up. “Here.” Paul says and just places his hand on the controller while you’re still holding it, to press the correct button.

“Okay. Now, shoot.” he says and you look down, trying to find the button he told you to press. Paul’s character already had dead creatures laying at his feet.

You tried your best, missing some of your shots while he laughs at the sloppiness, but at least the creature is down.

“It’s not funny.” you say plainly as you nudge his arm.

“You’re right. That was hilarious.” he says and chuckles again at the face you give him.

The wave of level 2 happening floats across the screen.

“You have to aim.” he says stressing the importance as you playfully roll your eyes.

The creatures come out with a bit more speed while Paul praise you up, “Come, on Y/N.” he says as he sprays his bullets.

You kill another one but another creature comes after you, causing Paul to shoot the one that attacked you and he heals you back to your feet.

The wave of round 2 ending swims across your screen as Paul asks for your controller, equipping upgrades for your weapon and character.

Round three was easier, Paul did most of the work but you were getting the hang of the game, following his advice to look behind yourself.

By the fifth round, the creatures stopped taking their good time to eat you. Paul did not get there in time which causes your character to spectate Paul battle off the rest. Soon, he stops trying knowing that he’s alone and let the game reset to the menu of :

play again?

You set your controller down and get up, “Alright I quit.”

“What?” he says while smiling, “Come on, please? It was getting fun.”

“I was not having fun dying. I’ll watch you.” you tell him.

“If you watch me, when I die you have to play the next rounds with me.” he says to you as he plays solo.

“Why?” you playfully whine.

“Because, you haven’t gotten to the good parts. Just wait until they start flying.” he tells you, furrowing his eyebrows at the screen to focus.

“You’re on your own, kid.” you tell him and pat his shoulder.

Not caring that his character on screen was in danger, he sets the controller down as you’re walking back and reaches to tickle your sides.

Your body jerks and folds as he pulls you closer, as you’re forcefully laughing. His fingers was digging deep into your sides, making you out of breathe.

You squeal a little bit as you gasp out, “Okay…Okay! Uncle!”

He laughs at you and you reach and plop a pillow on his head with more force than you were initially trying to hit.

The stunned look on his face makes you gasp but laugh, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” you chant as he’s reaching you once more. You try to move to get away but his long arms are much faster than you, pulling you right back in the same spot.

You’re thrashing on the couch as he reaches under your arms, making you contort your body in an almost exorcism manner. Your throat runs out of laughter as you wheeze out and your arms try to push him away.

He finally lets up, allowing you to wipe your tears from being over tickled. He has a sly smile as you try to reach for his sides. You move your fingers to mimic the deep tickles. He watched this in amusement.

“Nice try. I’m not ticklish.” he tells you.

This makes you groan as he chortles. He takes your hands that were resting on his sides and pull you over him. He takes the back of your head to bring you down to his lips. Opening his lips to let his tongue swipe on your bottom lip, you sigh into his mouth as he sucks your tongue and pulls back.

He looks at your hooded eyes and leans forward to place a wet kiss on your ear, he then whispers, “We should try something.”

“Try what?” you whisper back, trying to hold yourself together from the waves of his hips, making his bulge hit directly on your sex.

Making you stand up, he yanks your pants down, with you stepping out of them. Making himself completely bare in front of you, he couldn’t help but stroke himself as he lies down on the couch.

You peel your shirt off as he directs you to climb on top of him but with your back facing him. He scoots you up, your knees on either side of his chest as you breathe out a whoosh of air.

His engorged penis was right at your face, staring back at you. You stroke him like how you saw him do it to himself. He still makes deep grunts as he works his mouth and tongue, while you ride his face. Your eyes are closed, he doesn’t mind that you slowed down your strokes, he just wanted to eat at you.

Fluidly bucking your hips back at him while you hold on his thighs to support yourself, he grips and grabs all of the skin that his hands could reach, your pretty moans sounding like music to his ears. His mouth is still attached to you as you jerk from the hard climax he gave you.

As you calm down, he slides you down with your back still facing him. You sink down on him as you both groan in synchronization. You grind and bounce with your hands behind you on your lower back and bottom.

You were so in the zone, you almost missed his tapping to signal you to get up. He pumps the dribbling substance in his hand, biting his lip and groaning. You sit watching him trying to catch your breath, sitting back on the couch with your knees to your chest but your legs halfway open.

He looks over to you to see if you’re okay but he groans out, “Oh, don’t do that.” he says to you. You huff out a small laugh as he was clearly tempted.

After cleaning each other up in a shower session, you lie on your stomach on the bed, reading the book that was loaned to you.

You made it your mission to read it before summer ends, before Edward comes back. Plans of meeting him was not on your radar.

“What are you thinking about?” Paul asks you. One eyebrow was raised a bit as he watched you stare at one page longer than necessary.

You shift from your stomach to your side to get a better look at him, “I don’t know….” The imprinting wouldn’t allow you to lie. “Are the Cullens on vacation?”

“I don’t know…Why?”

You didn’t want to work him up all over again, “It’s summer time. They burn in the sunlight right?”You’ve seen enough movies of vampires staying in from the sunlight, only for them to burn from the rays of the sun once they step out in the daytime.

“No. They sparkle.” he snorts and rolls his eyes a bit at the ridiculous information that he gives you. You flip a page before he speaks up.

“Which friend gave you that book again?”

Damn.

“Uh…Erm..” you say but he sits up a bit straighter, focusing on what you’re going to tell him.

“Stop, you’re making me nervous.” you tell him and he relaxes a bit but his eyes don’t match his body language.

“Her name is Bella.”

“She went to our school?” he asks you, his face showing him trying to remember.

“No. I met her when I was buying a book that day at Port Angeles. I bought Pride and Prejudice and she told me she could lend me this, since she saw me trying to buy it.”

He hums a response but he’s still skeptical. You just didn’t ask questions like that out of the blue, especially while you’re thinking deep about something. He wants to keep peace right now. Not wanting any friction from pressing for more, he lets you leave it at that. You let your eyes drop from his intense ones, once you seen that he wasn’t going to hound you for more questions.

You thought about what happened earlier as you shake your head slightly. It was a perfect subject changer.

“Jared texted me earlier.” you tell him. He’s still interested in what you have to say.

“About what?”

You tell him about Kim’s birthday dinner.

“I know she told him to ask me but why won’t she leave whatever be, be?” you say as your fingers play with the edges of the pages of the open book.

He shakes his head slightly, “Your guess is as good as mine.” he says quietly.

His eyes trail off and land on your newest piece. “Are you going to take that?” he says to you, nodding in the direction of where it stood up.

You turn to look and you shrug.

“You should.” he says at your indecisiveness.

“I might.” you tell him. It seemed so personal. But then again, you didn’t want to feel like that again. Maybe it was best to take it with you to the gallery opening event. Your main thing was to network after all. Setting your mind on yes, the worst thing that you didn’t want to experience was regret.

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ceilidho · 1 year ago

Note

those possessive ghost and soap headcanons 😳😵‍💫 please gimme more 🤲🏻.

i was wondering what if reader *technically* wasn't officially ghost's girl (like are they dating? well technically no, but ghost definitely sees reader as his and everyone that interacts with them on a regular basis learns that pretty quickly) so maybe because of that reader accepts going on some dates or flirts a little with men that come up to her to shoot their shot, how do you see ghost reacting to that?

“Dating” is probably too pedestrian for Ghost after the life he’s lived. Like how can a dead man date?

There’s not really a word for what’s going on between the two of you. It’s just some nebulous thing that begins and ends with you being his and Ghost being (presumably? Although you’ve never asked for fear of being told no) yours.

It would be easy for anyone to let that insecurity get to their head eventually though. The problem with Ghost is that he really cannot communicate his thoughts or intentions and you’re only human. And god he’s so commitment adverse at first like he absolutely sees you as his but he’s so reticent to actually say something about it. So when he “punishes” you by avoiding you for a few weeks after you start acting too couple-y with him, you don’t just capitulate the second he comes back. You’re upset, irate even, and not eager to forgive him and let him dictate the course of your relationship.

So yeah, you let some guy at your work take you on a date. You let him take you to a movie where he tries and fails to put his hand on your thigh, and you keep using your popcorn to brush his hand off. You immediately know this was a mistake and you spend the whole two hours absolutely miserable because you miss your stupid not-boyfriend and you can’t stand this guy.

Who knows how Ghost finds out but obviously he does. He’s already broken into your flat and opens the door for you when your date walks you home, scaring the both of you. Your date because he “didn’t realize you’ve got a boyfriend - you didn’t have to lead me on, you know I thought this was a date” and you because “he’s not my boyfri-”

“That’ll do” and slams the door on your date’s face. Maybe bends you over the side table in the foyer to remind you that you do have a man at home, just pulls your skirt up and pulls your underwear to the side. Apologizes in your ear for leaving you when he bottoms out and you’re so strung out that you don’t even hear him at first. Big hands a brand on your waist, sure to leave bruises in the morning from how hard he clutches you there.

But no, he’s not your boyfriend 🙄 dumbass behaviour

#cod mw2 #ceil writing #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost/reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #I headcanon simon riley as a fuckinf idiot

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 months ago

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The first thing she does is stride across the stage. She is moving quickly, for a reason. At events like these, there is typically someone with a clipboard and a headset holding you backstage behind a curtain. They tell you the exact moment when you can walk out. Both candidates will be let loose at the same time. For her to achieve her first objective, she has to walk faster than him, so that she is in his space when, remarkably, for the first time, the two meet.

He seems to avoid her. He has barely made it to his own podium by this point, but she has already crossed her podium and the space between them and now stands behind his podium, on his turf. “Kamala Harris,” she says, in case he needs a refresher. I cannot recall a presidential candidate saying their own name to their adversary like that. It strikes me that that was how she would have introduced herself in courtrooms.

This first move is Aggression Meets Manners. She is trying to own him, with courtesy. She returns to her podium. And the first thing she does now, because she knows she has to, given how it is for women in her situation, is smile. A big, generous, probably rehearsed smile, because you really have to.

There were miles to go from there. But already in that double instant, you had it all. The full range of who she had to be, and who she would be: dominant, alpha, power-conscious, on one hand; joyous, easygoing, a little above it, having a blast, on the other.

Last night Vice President Kamala Harris faced the impossible, contradictory demands women face in politics and in all of public life, and she said, “Yes-and-and-and-and.”

She had to thread the smallest of needles, starting with that mix of aggressive and mannered, then being joyful and tough, gracious and angry, and contemptuous and hopeful, and incredulous and credible, pugnacious and nurturing, pitying and alarmed.

In one sense, there are very few women in the world who will have had the precise experience the vice president did last night. But I doubt there are many women who have not felt themselves forced to thread that needle and win by being all the things.

Last night Kamala Harris was all the things.

What came back to me as I watched was Gloria’s monologue in the “Barbie” movie, delivered for the ages by America Ferrera.

It is literally impossible to be a woman… You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin. You have to have money, but you can’t ask for money because that’s crass. You have to be a boss, but you can’t be mean. You have to lead, but you can’t squash other people’s ideas… It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault.

These incentives and pressures are not fair, but they exist. Last night, as much as any political leader in memory, Harris thrived at being all the things at once — all the things a single person should not have to be.

When she did aggression, she did aggression. “Donald Trump was fired by 81 million people,” she said. (And you have to give him credit: he knows TV, and he knows a good line, and that one he gave a grudging nod of admiration. I see what you did there.) She said to him that dictators “would eat you for lunch.” She told him his crowds were walking out out of exhaustion and boredom, the form of impotence he cares about the most. She told him that she had to clean up his mess.

Ordinarily, this kind of emasculation should only be done in a licensed clinical setting.

What I’ve learned reporting on politics is that voters may say they care about this issue or that issue most, but what they’re often looking for is a gut check on whether the candidate in question has the fight in them to thwart the obstacles that face their family. They know how immovable the obstacles are, because they just spent their day failing to defeat them. Can a candidate do for them what they can’t do for themselves?

The strength, force, alphaness Harris showed last night will satisfy many on that score. But look at what she mixed it with.

Her facial expressions worked harder than Charlie Chaplin’s back when there was no sound. The mics may have been muted, but they forgot to press the button to silence her face. Eyebrows up, eyebrows down. Hand on chin, hand down. Eyes enlarged, eyes narrowed. Skepticism, sadness, eagerness to butt in, exasperation, wonder — she might cycle through all of this during one of Donald Trump’s answers. Can one’s side-eye be nominated for an Emmy? Though Harris often looked right at him when she spoke, when Harris spoke, he looked straight ahead, with his resting fascism face.

Sometimes she listened, letting him wild. Sometimes she seemed like a predator on the savannah, ready to pounce as he meandered. Sometimes, many times, she planted bait for him, with the exterminator’s faith that the pest will eventually come for his nibble. He gobbled instead. Every one of her traps he found, true to biology, and gobbled. The thing about bait is you don’t know it’s bait. Otherwise, you wouldn’t fill up on it. Bait ruins dinner, because by dinner you’re dead.

What a small needle! In addition to all this, Harris sought to show, not tell but show, that the multiracial democracy America is becoming will be fun. One shouldn’t have to convince people that freedom is better than tyranny and the thriving of all better than the thriving of some, but here we are. You have to show people that what they are being manipulated to fear isn’t scary. And Harris carried herself, amid everything else she needed to be doing, with a joy that embodies the kind of future she promises.

The most important new thing I saw her do was prebunking. Pre-, not de-. Debunking is waiting for someone to lie and then hitting back with the truth. It doesn’t work in politics as much you would hope it would in an age saturated by lies. But prebunking works better. Prebunking is explaining to people how they are being (or, better yet, will be) manipulated, what the motive is, how the con works, how the lie will be crafted and how it will function, and, for extra credit, who benefits from it and how. In the age of Trump, too many of his opponents have been all debunk, no prebunk.

But in last night’s debate, again and again, Harris rose to the meta level and explained Trump’s ways in advance so as to inoculate against their infectiousness. “I’m going to tell you all, in this debate tonight, you’re going to hear from the same old, tired playbook, a bunch of lies, grievances and name-calling,” she said in the first minutes. In another moment, she prebunked any professions Trump might make to be admired by foreign autocrats for his strength: “It is absolutely well known that these dictators and autocrats are rooting for you to be president again because they’re so clear, they can manipulate you with flattery and favors.”

Trump is a challenge for anyone, because he is a weird mix of super dangerous and a joke. With the “Barbie” monologue in mind, think of how much harder this challenge grows for a woman running against him. Play up his danger, and you risk being seen as shrill, or weak, or scared, or hysterical. Belittle him, and you risk coming off as a bitch, a ballbreaker, a nag, a witch. It was remarkable, then, to see Harris’s comfort last night in treating Trump as both of these things at once, a danger and a clown.

She loves her a Venn diagram, and in the debate she seemed to find the lens-shaped intersection of what supremely dangerous wannabe autocrats and semi-retired, narcissistic, imploding clowns have in common: They are not thinking about you.

It became her message: He is not thinking about you. He is not capable of doing so. You may believe that is because he wants to be a dictator, and dictators, by definition, don’t worry much about what people need or want or say. You may believe it’s because he is a decent conservative like yourself with some pretty good ideas but just runs his mouth too much. No matter. She is trying to assemble an Ocasio-Cortez-to-Cheney coalition of people who believe that, whatever he may be thinking about, it’s not you.

At the end, she tried to speak to the breadth of a big country that feels today like it’s made of factions and rumps and tribes and slices and segments but that still is a country, a country full of wonder and promise, still, and she promised to be president even of the people who do not wish her well.

“As a prosecutor,” Harris said, “I never asked a victim or a witness, ‘Are you a Republican or a Democrat?’ The only thing I ever asked them: ‘Are you OK?’ And that’s the kind of president we need right now.”

It was a simple line, but strangely healing after these years. Years in which we have not been OK, because everything we have is at risk and all we could have is, too.

“Are you OK?” A little better this morning.

#Kamala Harris #election 2024 #Harris/Trump debate #Anand Giridharadas #the ink

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ms-snape · 4 months ago

Text

"Love" (Harry Potter x Snape!reader)

Request: not a request, request are OPENED

Summary: Harry is in a secret relationship with Snape's daghter, he envetually find out

Warning: Angst, happy ending

Word count: 2330

Masterlist

---

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the grounds of Hogwarts. The Black Lake shimmered under the golden light, its surface occasionally rippling as a soft breeze played across it. Y/N Snape sat on the grass, her heart racing with exhilaration as she intertwined her fingers with Harry Potter’s, their secret romance thriving in the secluded beauty of their surroundings.

“Do you think anyone will see us?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder, her dark hair framing her face like a curtain.

“Not unless they’re looking for trouble,” Harry replied, a grin spreading across his face. His green eyes sparkled with mischief and affection. “Besides, it’s just a little hand-holding. What’s the worst that could happen?”

As if the universe had decided to intervene, the sound of footsteps crunched on the gravel path nearby. Y/N’s heart dropped. She turned just in time to see a familiar figure striding toward them, his robes billowing behind him like a dark cloud. Severus Snape, her father, was headed directly for them.

“Harry—” Y/N began, but it was too late.

Snape’s sharp gaze landed on their joined hands, and the air grew thick with tension. “What is the meaning of this?” he spat, his voice low and dangerous.

Harry’s expression shifted from carefree to alarmed in an instant. He instinctively released Y/N’s hand, standing up straighter. “Professor Snape, we—”

“Silence!” Snape’s voice echoed across the lake, startling nearby birds into flight. “Y/N, come here.”

Y/N felt her stomach twist. She knew that tone. It was the same tone that signaled she had crossed an invisible line. Reluctantly, she stood, her heart pounding as she walked away from Harry, who remained rooted in place.

“Dad, I can explain,” she started, but Snape’s expression darkened further.

“Explain what? That you are foolish enough to associate with Potter? The Boy Who Lived?” His eyes glinted with something akin to anger, but also hurt. “This is unacceptable.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind racing. “Harry isn’t just ‘the Boy Who Lived.’ He’s my—”

“Your what?” Snape interrupted, his voice rising. “What do you think you’re doing? He is not worthy of you, Y/N. You know the risks of being involved with him.”

“He’s my boyfriend!” Y/N shouted, surprising herself with the force of her words. “And I love him!”

The air around them felt electric. Snape’s face paled slightly, a flash of emotion crossing his features before he masked it with cold indifference. “Love? You are too young to understand what love is. You are mine to protect, and I will not allow this foolishness to continue.”

Y/N’s heart sank. “So, you’ll just control me? You’ll dictate who I can and cannot see?”

“I will do what is necessary to keep you safe,” he replied, his voice firm. “End this relashionship, Y/N. Now.”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as frustration boiled within her. “You can’t just order me to break up with him! I’m not a child!”

“Then stop acting like one,” Snape snapped, his patience wearing thin. “You may not understand the dangers, but I do. I will not let you ruin your life over a boy.”

With a heavy heart, Y/N nodded, feeling the weight of her father’s expectations crush her spirit. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Snape said, his voice softening slightly, though it still held an edge of authority. “You will speak with him immediately.”

Y/N turned away, her heart shattering with each step she took back toward Harry. She could feel her father's eyes boring into her back, a silent reminder of his control. When she reached Harry, she found him staring at her, a mix of confusion and concern on his face.

“Y/N?” he asked gently, his brows furrowing. “What did he say?”

With trembling hands, she took a deep breath. “Harry, I… I can’t see you anymore.”

“Wait, what?” Harry’s voice cracked, confusion flooding his expression. “Y/N, please. You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” she insisted, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s for the best.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded, stepping closer. “We can figure this out. I don’t care what your dad thinks.”

“You don’t understand,” Y/N said, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “He’ll never accept us. I can’t go against him. I can’t.”

Harry’s face fell, and for a moment, the world around them blurred. The laughter and chatter from the castle felt distant, and all that remained was the two of them standing at the edge of heartbreak.

“Please, Y/N,” he whispered, reaching out for her. “Don’t do this. I…. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she cried, “but I have to listen to him. I can’t… I can’t fight him.”

With that, she turned and walked away, each step feeling like a dagger to her heart. Behind her, Harry stood frozen, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, feeling utterly helpless.

Days turned into weeks. Y/N forced herself to smile in classes, surrounded by friends who were blissfully unaware of her internal turmoil. Hermione and Ron noticed her distant behavior but attributed it to the usual stress of school.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Hermione asked one afternoon as they sat in the library, the dim light casting soft shadows over her parchment. “You seem… off.”

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Come on, we know you better than that,” Ron chimed in, glancing up from his homework. “You’ve been acting weird since the start of the term.”

Y/N sighed, her heart aching as she thought of Harry. “It’s just… family stuff.”

Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron, her expression shifting to one of concern. “You can talk to us about anything, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Ron added, nudging her shoulder gently. “We’re here for you.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, though the words felt hollow. She wished she could confide in them, tell them about her heartbreak, but the weight of her father’s expectations loomed large.

Meanwhile, Harry was a shadow of his former self. He wandered the castle, the weight of loss heavy on his shoulders. He threw himself into Quidditch, but even the thrill of the game couldn’t fill the void that Y/N had left behind.

“Harry, you’ve got to talk to her,” Ron urged one evening as they sat in the Gryffindor common room, the fire crackling brightly. “You can’t just let this go.”

“I can’t,” Harry replied, running a hand through his messy hair. “Her dad won’t let her. I can’t put her in danger.”

“Danger? It’s just Snape,” Ron scoffed, but Hermione shot him a warning look.

“It’s not just that, Ron,” she said softly. “Snape is protective of his daughter. He cares about her safety, even if it doesn’t seem that way.”

“I know,” Harry said, his voice heavy with resignation. “But I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

As the days stretched into a monotonous cycle of classes and empty smiles, Y/N felt herself slipping further into despair. The laughter that once filled her days faded into echoes of what used to be. She missed Harry terribly, the warmth of his presence a stark contrast to the coldness of her father’s expectations.

One evening, as she sat by the Black Lake, her heart felt heavier than the darkened sky above. The stars twinkled like distant reminders of happier times, and she hugged her knees to her chest, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

“Y/N?” a familiar voice broke through her thoughts.

She looked up to see Harry standing a few feet away, his expression a mix of hope and fear. “I had to see you.”

“Harry,” she whispered, her heart racing. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “But I had to. I can’t just let you go.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at the sight of him, but the reality of their situation loomed over them like a storm cloud. “You don’t understand. My dad—”

“Forget about your dad for a moment,” Harry interrupted, his voice unwavering. “What about us? We can’t just pretend this isn’t happening.”

Tears threatened to spill again as she looked into his eyes, searching for any glimmer of hope. “I can’t fight him, Harry. He’ll never accept us.”

“Then let me talk to him,” he said, determination shining in his eyes. “I’ll make him understand.”

“You don’t know my father,” Y/N replied, shaking her head. “He’s not going to listen to you.”

“Then we’ll make him listen,” Harry insisted, taking another step forward. “I won’t give up on you. You’re worth fighting for.”

Y/N felt a rush of emotion, her heart aching with longing. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Maybe not,” Harry admitted, his voice softening. “But I know what I feel for you. And I can’t just walk away.”

In that moment, the world around them faded away. Y/N stepped closer, her heart racing as she reached for his hand. Their fingers intertwined, and she felt a spark of warmth in the cold night air.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I promise,” Harry said, cupping her face in his hands. “I’ll find a way.”

With that, he leaned in, and their lips met in a soft kiss, igniting the fire that had been smoldering between them. Y/N melted into him, the taste of his lips a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost and what they still had to fight for.

But as they pulled away, the weight of reality set in again, and Y/N felt a pang of dread. “What if he finds out?”

“Then we’ll deal with it together,” Harry replied, his eyes filled with determination. “I won’t let him tear us apart.”

Days passed, and Harry’s resolve only grew stronger. He sought out Snape, determined to confront the Potions Master about his daughter. It was a risky move, one that could backfire spectacularly, but Harry couldn’t stand to see Y/N in pain any longer.

One afternoon, Harry found Snape in his classroom, meticulously preparing potions for the next lesson. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of herbs and the quiet hum of simmering liquids. Snape looked up sharply as Harry entered, his expression unreadable.

“Potter,” Snape said coolly, setting down his stirring rod. “What brings you here?”

Harry squared his shoulders, trying to exude confidence. “I need to talk to you about Y/N.”

Snape’s gaze hardened, and Harry felt a chill run down his spine. “This is not a conversation I am inclined to entertain.”

“Please,” Harry pressed, refusing to back down. “She’s unhappy, and it’s because of you.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You presume to know what is best for my daughter?”

“I know she loves me,” Harry replied, his voice steady. “And I love her. You can’t just dictate her life like this.”

“Love is a foolish and dangerous game, Potter,” Snape said, his tone icy. “You are in no position to lecture me on what is best for Y/N.”

“Then let her make her own choices!” Harry argued, frustration boiling over. “She’s not a child. She deserves to be happy.”

Snape’s expression shifted, a flicker of something beneath his stoic facade. “Happiness is not guaranteed, especially in a world as dangerous as this one.”

“Then let us face that danger together!” Harry shot back, his heart racing with conviction. “If you truly care about her, you’ll let her choose her own path.”

Silence hung in the air between them, tension crackling like electricity. Snape’s expression was inscrutable, but Harry could see the conflict beneath the surface. After what felt like an eternity, Snape sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“Potter,” he said quietly, “I cannot protect her if you do not understand the risks involved.”

“I understand,” Harry replied, his voice softening. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep her safe.”

Snape studied him for a long moment, and Harry held his breath, praying for a glimmer of acceptance. Finally, Snape nodded slowly, his face a mask of reluctant acceptance.

“Very well,” he said, his voice low. “You may see her. But know this—if you hurt her, I will make you regret it.”

Harry nodded, relief flooding through him. “I promise, I won’t.”

As he left Snape’s office, Harry felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Now, he just needed to find Y/N and tell her the good news.

That evening, they met by the Black Lake once more, the stars shining brightly overhead. Y/N sat on the grass, her expression pensive as she gazed out at the water. When she saw Harry approaching, her face lit up with a mix of surprise and hope.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, rushing to meet him. “What happened?”

“I talked to your dad,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “He said we can be together.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, disbelief etched across her features. “Really?”

“Really,” Harry confirmed, pulling her into his arms. “He just wants to make sure you’re safe. And I promised I’d take care of you.”

Y/N felt tears of joy spill down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, Harry, I was so scared.”

“Not anymore,” he murmured, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. “We’re in this together.”

With that, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that felt like a promise—a promise of love, happiness, and a future together. As the stars twinkled overhead, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her, a sense of belonging that had been missing for far too long.

When they finally pulled apart, Harry brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his expression tender. “I won’t let anything come between us again.”

“Neither will I,” Y/N replied, her heart swelling with love. “We’ll face whatever comes our way, together.”

And as they sat by the Black Lake, hand in hand, the shadows of doubt began to fade, replaced by a future filled with hope and the promise of love that would endure against all odds.

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thementalshawty · 1 year ago

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Who’s Your FS PT. 2

Heyyyyyyyyy happy ‘24!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m back with the awaited pt2 to who’s your FS. Now if I’m guessing most of you saw pt1 and just back here for confirmation or for more information, now for those who are new here hellloooooooooo! This is a shorter version of p1 only I’m using one deck for this reading. @silvershiningtarot gifted me the tea leaf oracle deck so that is what I’ll be using for this reading! Thanks baby!! Now REMEMBER THIS IS A GENERAL READING! Take what resonated and leave the rest for others to take in you want something more personal, you’ll have to purchase a reading from me, or any other great reader on here, mmk? Til then just take what resonates with you in this general reading! Choose an emoji and let’s get started and TAROT IS A SUGGESTIVE METHOD, DO NOT RELY ON ANYONE OR ANYTHING TO MAKE OR DICTATE DECISIONS AND MOVES FOR YOUR LIFE! YOU’RE THE POWER!

P4: 🖤

P5 :💞

P6:🫶🏽

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Pile IV

Your spouses have faced major challenges and obstacles in their lives, they’ve climbed many a mountain basically. They aren’t a weak minded person, they got heart p4 and they’re brave! They’ve faced so much they don’t back down from shit! This person is a survivor, a soldier, a warrior lol! I can’t stop bragging about how strong and fierce they are! They’ve been hit with so much shit and they’ve climbed it, I feel like right now they’re facing yet another major challenge in their lives. There’s rats around them, people that are secretly working against them behind their backs, they’re not even aware of it or who it could be cos they’re so focused on what they’re facing. Poor babies! These are my survival mode babies! They have paranoia, they think everyone is after them most likely, they are afraid of peace cos they don’t trust it, they had to defend themselves their whole lives. “All my life I had to fight.” Maybe they had a color purple kind of life, like Celie, or Sofia, but don’t look at the gender of them, it can be male, female, gender less, this person has been through some shit and they still are needing to defend themselves, don’t feel bad for them tho, they can handle it I feel, they’re hella strong but they shouldn’t have to be going through shit just cos they can handle it or they’re strong you know?? They’re a bit defensive too only cos they always had to defend themselves so they don’t understand the concept of constructive criticism or advice from bullying or trying to tear them down, they never had anything healthy to compare the toxicity too. So be mindful of that. They’re successfully overcoming a problem right now! They always land on top! They are the type to get kicked down but have the last laugh. They cannot be defeated, they lose battles but they WIN WARS! Maybe some of them live over a bridge or live where there’s a famous bridge (golden gate bridge I heard so maybe some of them or you are in cali). This person is a new person entering your life not an ex or someone you have met already, you haven’t met this person, you can possibly know of them, but you didn’t meet yet. They are arrogant and boastful and it’s cos what they went through. They are high! Very cocky they got an ego, and it’s cos whoever or whatever crossed them or tried to cause them harm failed and was destroyed leaving them way better than before. So they feel untouchable. They’ve been grieving some kind of loss, they have sorrowful moments especially when they relive or reminisce about what they went through and lost. They’re starting over and recreating their lives, venturing out into new territory or new methods of life, they’re hella creative and idealistic so they are now coming up with new and impressive ways of going about things. They may like watching the sunrise, could’ve been born at sunrise? They’re an early bird most likely. They’re a king/queen to themselves and they don’t need any validation from anyone! EVER! They persevere and never give up, this is how they overcome issues, they’re not the type to just take shit lying down, they’re a fucking fighter. They have plenty of material things, they have a lot of stuff, I’m not seeing hella wealth but they have plenty of money, they can afford whatever they want in that moment. They’re cocky cos they know they fought for everything they have so they feel they’ve earned the right to be cocky. They have been disappointed by friends and lovers in their lives who I feel have plotted behind their backs, it’s almost like I’m getting the rise of Tony Montana from Scarface, maybe they like that movie, they have a nice house and nice shit in their homes (random). They’re over thinkers, I told you they’re paranoid, they think that everything may crash and burn and they will have to struggle again like they’re used to but they are getting better and better each challenge or obstacle. I think that they’re bigger than you, some of them are tall, heavier, curvy, just bigger than you some in height some in weight. They are coming out of their cocoon a butterfly they are going through

Yet another transition and transformation, it’s for the better they are going to emerge from this so much better, stronger and more abundant I feel, I think that they always end up financially secure or blessed after every challenge they end up gaining some money that’s why they have so much shit I feel, they love to celebrate themselves. They are a happy go lucky type of person because they have been through shit and they have won every single war they’ve been in so they feel like they’re blessed and have good luck, others may gossip and say that they’re a lucky person but they’re really just good like that! They deserve their position in life, I promise you they do!

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Pile V

Happiness is important to this person. This is the type of person where money doesn’t matter to them. They just want to do what makes them the happiest, not that they aren’t taken care of financially, but they aren’t a shallow or materialistic individual. They love standing in the sun, they probably laugh loud and proud they are one of the happiest people you’ll ever meet in your life, they hate being upset or angry, it takes a lot to make them mad I feel. They have built a nest for themselves, they have a cozy home I feel, they are filled with so much love, they’re emotionally secure and they come from a loving family, or they want to create a loving and emotionally secure family. They definitely want kids, family is important to them which is why I think they were indeed brought up in a loving home at least some of them did, very warm and fuzzy person. They believe in love and happiness they believe love will bring them true happiness! I love them! They have a two faced friend in their life right now tho, this person around them is a fake ass person being fake but they only see the one face right now, idk if they don’t wanna face it or they genuinely don’t know about this person but they have a fake ass friend amongst them P5. They can be a cat person, they can even feed the birds or have a bird house at their house, you know what I feel too, they have one of those fountains for the birds outside their house, a family of birds could live outside their house. They have great fortune, like I said they are taken care of financially, I feel like because they don’t chase money like how everyone else is so obsessed with the bag, they’re not which is why money and fortune finds them simply they don’t chase anything but their happiness honestly. They are a very blessed person, a human four leaf clover 🍀! You’ll feel blessed around them too, maybe some of them are born in march, I do get wager sign vibes from this deck. Their skin is on the darker side, especially if you’re looking for a wife she’s got a darker complexion than you or her hair! It can also be their mom, or sister only because family is hella important so is their culture too, I feel some of you guys share the same culture others differ but even the ones that share the same culture you may not be into it as deep as they are they are devout to their culture and family. They may have gotten their money through inheritance, or winning something it could’ve even been some kind of windfall either way it came to them very naturally and it was like a stroke of luck or a blessing they are wealthy, they could’ve even inherited a beautiful piece of property. Something wealthy and grand they have! Money or some grand property. They are protected from negative forces, their guides and ancestors don’t play with them, anything negative that comes their way doesn’t affect them directly or heavily! They’re blessed frfr, truly lucky person! I’m happy for this person! Fuck that fake ass friend tho. P5 you gotta winner here! They may own a boat, 🛥️ yacht? This pile I’m getting old money vibes, wealth, old Victorian homes and castles type of background with this person. Idk. I see that because this person is so blessed and rarely sees any negativity, they aren’t very used to being told anything less than great, they need to learn how to accept valid criticism, I feel they feel anyone telling them anything less than satisfactory is a hater. They don’t want their happiness interfered with. I feel like there is some criticism that they need to listen to. So they have some downfalls in this person. Some of them could’ve been born rich. I feel like they are spoiled, the silver spoon ones. They are only used to having the best so anything less is not what they pay attention too. Others I feel they inherited money but before they did they accepted the fact that things suck sometimes so when anyone come to them with it they try to brush it off cos they know life sucks sometimes but they pay no mind to it which is a high vibe but also low too. They’re a fucking soaring 🦅 EAGLE! They

faced obstacles, struggles and troubles and they triumphed over it, beautifully, so they may be spoiled but they are strong and resilient! They will handle what they need too! Eagle could be a bird they love or I’m hearing maybe some of them have an eagle tatted. This fake ass friend I feel like they are undependable and insincere but they make excuses for them, only to avoid facing an issue, this may be a family friend? I feel there’s a hesitation to cut this person off, this person your spouse cannot depend on yet…….. that person still around I bet. Ugh! 😩! Your person needs to stop being so nice, they are sweet as fuck and I feel this person uses the family and your person. They are the type to get warnings ahead of time, whether it be their intuition or an actual person warning them but I feel like they always get the heads up! They are about to face a problem in the near future if they’re not facing nothing now. Some of you will be dealing with a person with white, blonde, or gray hair, some could dye it, some older, shit some is both! They’re the type of come from the families of legacies, like fashion companies, hotels, inventions, etc. They could have been next in line? I feel like with others who gained the wealth I feel like they worked but it came rather quickly, your spouse found what they loved and made millions off it. This pile is a lot about their possessions because even the next card is letting you know that right now they are increasing in material wealth right now, spiritual growth as well, which why I feel like this fake ass friend will be seeing the door soon this year! They could’ve had a goldfish as a pet or they do right now (Random). They love to vacation and take time away from everything. They’re a traveler! They are the type to drop everything and go to the fuccin Mykonos or Fiji just cos they can! They are extremely wealthy! Billionaire status to some of them I feel the ones that come from money in their family. Others they are millionaires or damn near close asfcc they could be on vacation right now, or they’re in desperate need of one.

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Pile VI

They are highly praised and thought of, this may be the fame pile and nah not entertainment celebrity but a celebrity in their fields. They’re know as probably gods/goddesses in their field of work. They’re very loved and adored by many, they have lots of fans and people throwing themselves at them. They’re very loved! 🥰 Love is hella important to them. They want to love so much! They search for true love, they may wear bows in their hair, remember bows are just accessories for any gender!!! They could be born in November or you may meet them around that time. I feel like Thanksgiving may be important to them too, they may love helping others, volunteering, I am hearing turkey drives. This is your true love by the way P6. They are in some trouble right now or have gotten into some trouble, either they were making accusations or someone was making accusations against them. I feel they’re in the hot seat at the moment or they’re putting someone else in the hot seat. I feel like it’s the first one, lots of people may be jealous of their fame, success so they’re doing anything they can to make them fall and suffer, lose that credibility. They feel like something is lacking in their life, I feel like it’s love but it can be anything, from money or goals, they just feel like they’re lacking something in their lives. They also I feel keep their emotions tucked in a barrel, I’m hearing some shit about image so maybe that’s how they move, they move the way they think they should to keep the fame. Opportunities are waiting for them at the door, opportunities that they create for themselves. Great businessmen/women! They handle the shit right! I’m not sure if they have a lot of money I don’t think they do I think they have a lot of fame, and notoriety but I don’t feel like they are rich or wealthy enough yet, they aren’t struggling they’re building up but they’re not where they want to be right now. They are about to have an exciting event that I feel will bring them in everything that they want. I feel like you guys may meet an exciting event. I feel like they may have a gong or like the sound of them ? (Random). They will be successful that’s guaranteed I’m seeing, they took their time, planned right and worked their fucking asses off they will be hella successful this year !!! This is a NEW PERSON! You don’t know them, you haven’t met them, like p4 you could’ve heard of them but you haven’t met them yet, this person hasn’t entered your life yet but they will, I think this year!!!! As soon as I said that a month card came out man!!! May!!!! They can be a Taurus, or Gemini, Scorpio or Sagittarius. They hella sensual. They may like to eat! You may meet in May. They have flopped a few times coming up in their lives, they’ve tried many different approaches and ways and have been unsuccessful. They didn’t give up they kept going and told themselves that they would be better next time and they were going to make it! They’re very focused i am getting earth sign energy major Capricorn energy especially! They are very poetic. Some of them are writers, or write with quill. 🪶. They are so creative and they are getting the start they deserve, they just want to make it, they just want to make it in what they love and continue getting the love for it, I honestly hope they do. Things are going to change for the better for them, they will make it and be successful and they will be triumphant and whatever they are facing in life. They are a bit arrogant and boastful, they aren’t a dick but they’re very egotistical and they don’t play about what they have, don’t cross these people either I feel like bad karma happens to those who cross your spouses, hella protected in the spirit world and I feel they know that and that’s why they are so cocky well a part of it, they are loud and they are goin to be heard no matter what, they show off too, I’m telling you major Capricorn vibes, this person is on their way to becoming CEO’s and Bosses this year yahhhhhh!

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Well thanks for tuning in!

Happy fuccin new years🎉

Get ready for the new year it’ll be killer!

Up’s and down’s but you’re a lot further than you were before so don’t forget it!!

I hope you enjoyed the reading and it brought you confirmation and clarity. TRY NOT TO COMMENT ANY THING ABOUT WHAT YOU READ! Some people look at the comments and are swayed to choose a certain pile based on someone else’s confirmation so please! If you have anything you want to say dm me, send in an ask, please try to comment only your feelings about the reading not any revealing information if that makes sense! Thanks babessss!

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caplanbuckybarnes · 3 months ago

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Duty Bound (Raiden One Shot)

Summary: Raiden keeps overestimating your ability to protect yourself.

Warnings: none?, i think?, if i missed something please let me know1

WC: 570ish

A/N: i've been wanting to write for MK characters for a LONG time. If you'd like to be tagged in any MK charatcer that i write for, here's my tag list! i'm honestly lacking in confidence in this fic, so please *please* reblog if you enjoy.

Read on Ao3!

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the desolate wasteland. Shadows danced among the jagged rocks, and the air crackled with an electric tension. You stood alone, heart racing, as the echoes of battle faded into the night.

Raiden, the God of Thunder, emerged from the shadows, his presence commanding and otherworldly. His piercing blue eyes locked onto yours, and you felt a rush of emotions—fear, admiration, and something else you couldn’t quite define.

“Do you remember what I told you?” Raiden’s voice was low, resonating like distant thunder. “I own your life. Remember your place.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. You had been drawn to his strength, his power, and the relentless duty he upheld to protect Earthrealm. But there was an unspoken tension between you—one that made your heart flutter and your resolve waver.

“I do,” you replied, forcing the words out despite the uncertainty swirling within you. “But does that mean I’m meant to be just a pawn in your game?”

Raiden stepped closer, the air around you charged with energy. “It is not a game. My responsibilities extend far beyond personal desires. Every decision I make is for the greater good.” His gaze softened, just a fraction, as he continued, “Yet I cannot deny the connection we share.”

You felt your pulse quicken, the air thick with unspoken words. “But what about me? My choices? My life?”

“Your life is bound to mine,” he stated firmly, yet there was an undercurrent of something gentler in his tone. “In this war, it is not only mine to protect, but also yours to uphold. You are stronger than you realize, but you must trust in my guidance.”

You took a step back, frustration bubbling up. “Guidance or control? There’s a fine line, Raiden. You can’t just dictate my life because of your power.”

He paused, considering your words. The tension between you hung heavy in the air. “Perhaps I am too rigid,” he admitted, the storm in his eyes dimming. “But understand this: I would never place you in harm's way without just cause. I care for your well-being.”

Your heart ached at his admission. “Caring doesn’t mean you own me, Raiden. I want to fight alongside you, not just be your shadow.”

A flicker of something unguarded crossed his features. “Then stand by my side, but understand that my first duty is to protect. If it means making hard choices, then so be it.”

You stepped forward, emboldened by his honesty. “I want to be part of this fight, not just a pawn. Let me prove my worth to you.”

Raiden’s eyes searched yours, and for a moment, the weight of destiny seemed to shift. “Very well,” he said, voice steady. “Prove to me that you can stand as an equal. But remember, my protection comes with a price.”

A thrill ran through you, and you nodded, determination setting in. “I’m ready.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a spark of energy between you. “Then let us fight together. But always keep in mind, I will never waver in my duty to protect you.”

In that moment, as the stars shone bright overhead, you felt the threads of your fates entwine—no longer merely a pawn, but a partner in a fight that would determine the very fate of realms.

And perhaps, just perhaps, something more.

#raiden x reader #raiden mortal kombat #mortal kombat fandom #mortal kombat fanfiction #raiden x you #raiden x y/n

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ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

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In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (12/22)

Chapter summary: Wanda and her therapist discuss the topic of forgiveness; During a 6-miler running event, Kate accuses you of forcing Yelena to stay away from her; after which you find Wanda and her new friend in the same event

Chapter word count: 6k | Warnings: None | Ship: Wanda x Reader, Yelena x Reader

Author's note: Enjoy :)

AO3 | Masterlist

Next Chapter: Thirteen

Twelve

The heavy raindrops dance in an intricate rhythm upon the streets of New York City, as Wanda’s gaze returns to Dr. Calliope Williams. She is seated opposite her, wearing the kind expression that always soothes Wanda in an unexplainable way. Mid-sentence, while sharing an anecdote about her time with you in college, she realizes you’ve been the topic (yet, again) for a while now.

"I've been going on about her too much, haven't I?" Wanda looks down at her hands, her fingers woven together.

“We can discuss whatever is on your mind, Wanda. I’m just here to listen and help you navigate those thoughts.” Calliope assures her with a warm smile.

As Wanda observes the gentle patter of rain on everything it touches, a question lingers in her mind. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” she wonders aloud.

“What makes you think she hasn’t?” Calliope asks.

"She’s moved on," Wanda argues, cracking her knuckles and twisting each of her fingers almost painfully. The bitter memories of your anger, the hurt she endured during those stormy weeks, remain vivid, imprinted on her soul. She can't erase the cruel image of you leaving her half-naked in her own bedroom as she pleads with you to stay.

None of your actions back then gave any indication that you wanted to forgive her.

“She's found someone new, someone who can give her the love and stability and trust I failed to provide. How can forgiveness exist in the face of that?" Wanda asks.

“It isn't bound by the presence or absence of a romantic relationship, Wanda. It transcends those circumstances. It’s about ultimately granting yourself and others the freedom to heal and move forward,” Calliope explains softly. “But, going back to your question, I’m afraid Y/N’s the only person who can answer that for you.”

“I know that. But I can’t really talk to her about it, can I? If I wanted to upset her, I definitely could.” Wanda sort of chuckles towards the end, her shoulders slumping slightly. All the amicable conversations she’s had with you over the past months were expertly navigated to avoid dredging up your shared, painful past.

"When the time is right and when both of you are ready to discuss it respectfully, you can approach her," Calliope tells her.

"And what if she never forgives me?" Wanda's voice trembles, recognizing how plausible that could be. "What if I've irreparably damaged what we had, what we could have been?"

Calliope leans in, underlining the gravity of her following words. "Wanda, it's important to recognize that you cannot control Y/N’s response or dictate the path of forgiveness for her. What you can do is show genuine regret, reflect on your actions, and strive for personal growth."

Uncertainty looms, casting a dark shadow. Being in control is one of life’s biggest illusions, and Wanda has fallen into its trap more times than she could count.

Pausing thoughtfully, Calliope tilts her head and says, "Wanda, I'd like to ask you something."

Wanda glances up, surprised to find her fingers clenched tightly into a fist. "What is it?" she asks.

"Do you believe you deserve forgiveness?"

The question hangs in the air, pregnant with implication. The rain outside seems to intensify, echoing the tumultuous emotions swirling within Wanda.

"I... I'm not sure," Wanda confesses after a beat. "I don't think I would forgive myself if I were her." A lone tear escapes her eye, streaking down her cheek, paralleling a raindrop sliding down the windowpane.

Calliope makes a noncommittal sound and then gracefully adjusts the glasses perched on her nose.

"Have you ever thought about forgiving your mother?" It carries a gentle curiosity–a clear footnote that there’s no right or wrong answer–delicately drawing parallels between Wanda's own experiences of betrayal and the concept of forgiveness itself.

“What does she have to do with this?” Wanda asks, her demeanor shifting instantly to a guarded stance.

“From what you told me before, your mother cheated on your father several times before she left you and the rest of your family. And your father, heartbroken, turned to substance abuse,” Calliope breaks off for a moment, knowing how being reminded of her tragic childhood continues to weigh heavily on Wanda.

“And that ultimately led to his death. Have you ever thought about forgiving your mother?” Calliope repeats the question.

Wanda's hollow grin etches the lines of bitter irony on her face.

“You can’t exactly forgive someone who isn’t asking for it, can you?” she retorts.

"You're right, Wanda," Calliope acknowledges, something akin to sadness in her tone. "It… It is a multifaceted process, and it becomes even more compounded when the person who has hurt us doesn't seek forgiveness or acknowledge their actions. It leaves us grappling with unresolved emotions and longing for clarity."

Calliope leans back in her chair, her eyes never leaving Wanda's face, contemplating the layers of complexity woven into their conversation. Wanda, on the other hand, looks suddenly withdrawn. Calliope can sense that her attention is divided, as is often the case when the conversation delves into her complicated relationship with her mother.

“Have you decided to answer her letters like I’ve suggested?” she asks Wanda, trying her best to seek out her avoidant gaze and rope her back to the present.

Wanda mumbles a no, face straight and devoid of any emotion.

“At least think about it,” she urges mildly. “It doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow, or even next week. However, the longer you ignore the unresolved feelings you harbor towards your mother, the more profound your resentment may grow.”

Confusion flashes across Wanda's face, her brows knitting together in frustration. “I don’t understand why she needs to seek a relationship with me. She’s managed to deceive at least one of us. Pietro talks to her all the time.” Wanda states, her voice strained with a venom she can barely hold back.

Calliope's gaze softens as she considers Wanda’s statement. "Wanda, we have to keep in mind that everyone's choices and behaviors are influenced by their own unique circumstances and motivations. Although I can't speak directly to your mother's specific reasons, it's possible that her wish to reconnect with both you and Pietro comes from a place of seeking forgiveness and reconciliation."

Wanda’s face burns at the thought that her mother is capable of repentance. "But why both of us? Why not just focus on rebuilding a relationship with one child? It feels like she wants to have it all, to mend what she broke without fully understanding the consequences of abandoning her children."

Calliope observes the tension in Wanda's body, sensing that her resentment somehow also spills over to her brother who has chosen to keep a steady connection with their mother despite both of them experiencing the pain of her leaving. She can sense that Wanda feels a little betrayed by his decision, and somewhat insecure that in this situation, he’s come out to be the bigger person between them.

"I wish I could understand," Wanda murmurs, eyes falling shut. "She abandoned us when we were so young, leaving scars that still ache. How can I reconcile the desire for closure with the fear of being hurt all over again?"

Calliope gives her a meaningful glance, as if Wanda has unknowingly stumbled upon a puzzle piece.

Following a few silent moments, Wanda connects the dots with a look of remorse.

“Is… Is this how Y/N feels about me?”

Calliope nods slowly. “It’s possible,” she says. “Just as you struggle to reconcile your desire for closure with the fear of being hurt again, Y/N might be going through similar emotions. The pain caused by betrayal runs deep, and it can be difficult to trust again, even when the desire is there.”

Wanda's eyes shimmer with regret. "I never wanted to hurt her," she whispers. “I thought if–if I simply put a stop to it and she never finds out, I–”

“I know. But it’s human nature. We are disillusioned when it comes to control. We convince ourselves that as long as we're in control, we can evade the fallout of our actions," Calliope explains.

“Other people will never make the same stupid mistake in their lifetime.” Wanda points out, feeling a sudden envy towards those who have easily exemplified unwavering loyalty.

"None of us are immune to mistakes, Wanda," Calliope reminds her. "While it may feel as though others have effortlessly avoided the same missteps, every individual has their own struggles and battles. The path is unique for each of us.”

Wanda nods, feeling a little comforted by what she’s hearing.

Calliope slowly rises from her chair, her movements purposeful as she makes her way towards the desk adorned with a pen and a notebook. She’s eager to jot down her notes while the session is still fresh.

“And as much as I want to continue this, our time is up. Shall we reconvene next week?" Calliope proposes.

Wanda, caught between a sigh and a fleeting smile, agrees to the schedule. "Sure, Next week."

She hadn’t once thought that understanding her own feelings could lead to insights on yours. It makes her more than eager to keep working on herself.

***

It’s still dark out as you stand amidst a sea of runners at the starting line of a 6-miler event being held in Central Park.

You’ve been looking forward to this the entire week, and have been rigorous in your preparation, getting up at four in the morning just so you can squeeze in your training plan despite a busy schedule at work. Aiming for nothing short of a personal record for this run, you start doing some drills on the side, getting your heart up to speed and your muscles warm. It’s a relatively cold morning, a long-sleeved shirt provides just the right amount of warmth, and the leggings you wear are rather thick, but still offer flexibility with every stride.

As you’re nearing the end of your warm-up, a familiar silhouette approaches you, their features barely discernible in the dim lighting.

“What did you tell her? Did you tell her to stay away from me?” The voice demands, causing you to straighten up. Kate maintains a jog in place, looking rather uncomfortable in her windrunner, but it’s obvious that the scowl she’s wearing has nothing to do with the freezing temperatures.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, your breath forming a visible fog as you speak.

“Yelena initiated a transfer to another team,” she mutters impatiently. “And she requested a different mentor as well.”

The blaring sound of the alarm kicks off the countdown before they release the runners. Runners around you start to position themselves, their focus shifting to the commencement of the race.

"Yelena did what? I... I had no idea..." you say absentmindedly, your voice tapering off as you feel a sudden jostle from someone pushing past you in the queue. Honestly, you don’t understand what’s so concerning about Yelena making changes in her career.

“She’s putting her career in jeopardy. First of all, everyone on her new team is going to treat her as a competition because despite being a junior, she has already won an industry award. They'll be gunning for her, ready to undermine her success. And to make matters worse, her new mentor lacks the journalistic expertise she deserves. He's essentially the epitome of political maneuvering within the company.” Kate bombards you with her reasoning, just as the starting gun pierces the air, signaling that the 6-miler has started.

“Y/N! Are you even listening–”

On instinct, your feet hit the pavement in quick, measured steps, leaving Kate just a few meters behind as you stare blankly ahead. You had anticipated the weather and conditions of this race; what you didn’t see coming was finding out that in an effort to safeguard your relationship, Yelena had taken drastic measures, making a move that you had neither requested or approved of. Not that she needs your approval on such things, but you didn’t want to be the reason if it happens that the recent developments derails her career. And seeing how Kate has been nothing but respectful of Yelena’s decision to be with you and stay friends with her, it’s quite unthinkable for Yelena to do such a thing.

Though what’s troubling you the most is the realization that she's willing to make such sacrifices very early on, believing you to be deserving of them. Deep down, you find it hard to accept such unwavering dedication from her—or from anyone, for that matter.

As you push your body forward, immersed in the run, you fail to check your watch and follow your pace. Lost in your own thoughts, the race passes by in a blur, and before you know it, Kate is emerging from out of nowhere, sprinting all of a sudden to finish ahead of you. You both cross the finish line a mere five seconds apart.

As the organizing team places the coveted finisher's medal around your neck, you duck your head in humble acceptance before making a beeline for the hydration stations. The cool liquid cascades down your throat, replenishing your parched body after the arduous race. Kate trails closely behind, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"Y/N," Kate calls out through the post-race commotion. She regrets a little that she attempted to outpace you, pushing herself beyond her intended limits in a bid to reach the finish line ahead. Glancing at your watch, a smile unconsciously graces your lips as its record of your run confirms that you have indeed beaten your personal best. With the task of reaching your goal out of the way, you turn to Kate and finally acknowledge her.

“I’m sorry, I was aiming for a specific finish time,” you murmur as your smile turns strained. “I didn’t mean to literally run away from the conversation earlier.”

"It's all good," Kate gasps, a hint of discomfort evident in her voice as she tries to catch her breath. "But seriously, how on earth are you able to carry on a conversation like nothing happened? You just ran that entire distance at an incredible pace!"

You offer a lighthearted chuckle. “What do you mean? You beat me at the finish line!”

"Yeah, and look where it got me," Kate mumbles, her words punctuated by labored breathing. "I think I’m gonna pass out…"

“Whoa, there,” you stammer, concern flickering across your face as you reach out, gently grasping her elbow to guide her away from the bustling crowd. Kate allows herself to be led to a quieter spot where she can find some relief. Then, to alleviate the tightness in her breathing, she unzips her jacket, allowing fresh air to circulate and provide some respite.

"So, about Yelena..." you say, finding a bench and settling down in a cross-legged position. The weight of the news still lingers, leaving you unsure of where to begin.

"I assume you two have talked about me and..." Kate gestures wildly with her hands.

"We did," you affirm. "And if my memory serves me right, I simply suggested for her to give you some space.”

"Dude, why would I need space? What more space could I ask for since she moved out of our place?" Kate retorts, sounding slightly exasperated.

The word "our" catches your attention. It’s exactly why you think Kate needs space. Now that you’re aware of the depth of her feelings for your girlfriend, it’s not hard to spot the subtle clues she unknowingly reveals by the way she talks about Yelena. Your concern for her trumps the slight jealousy you feel knowing someone else is blatantly in love with your partner.

"Have you spoken to her?" you inquire, choosing to overlook her rants.

"Not exactly," Kate sighs. "I think she's upset with me for carelessly letting slip that we were friends with benefits."

"I'll have a word with her," you assure, offering Kate an extra sports drink you picked up from the station.

"I'd appreciate that," Kate replies, casually uncapping the drink and taking a prolonged sip. "Her career means the world to her. If she's not willing to reconsider, then I'll submit my resignation first thing tomorrow."

"No, Kate, you don't need to do that.”

Kate dismisses your worry with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "I'm wealthy," she states as if it's a mere fact. "I don't really need a job. I just need something to keep me busy."

Wanda finishes the same 6-miler event in record time. She notes that only a small number of female participants managed to run faster than her. In her mind, she's certain she could've overtaken them if she had kept up a steady training regimen. The reality is, Wanda only rekindled her interest in running when she started therapy. Calliope suggested that exercise releases natural endorphins that boost physical energy and mental focus throughout the day.

And besides, it felt oddly comforting to partake in a hobby that her ex-wife used to thoroughly enjoy, even if it's no longer an activity you both share. Running is one of those bridges to you that she wishes to maintain, an unbroken connection that she can enjoy privately, without the worry of hurting anyone in the process. A somewhat delicate balance between holding on and letting you go. Wanda used to think that her love for you had nowhere to go, but in learning to love herself, she had discovered that she can unearth traces of you–even in the tiniest moments that paint life with vibrant hues. Love doesn’t go away–it simply transforms.

After quietly dedicating her medal to you, Wanda’s about to start her post-run stretch, when she is interrupted by a soft touch on her shoulder.

"Excuse me?"

With a quick turn, Wanda shifts her attention to the person behind her. It’s the customer from a few days ago, the one with the captivating deep brown eyes. She instantly recalls how this woman had oddly requested a 'surprise me' drink, prompting a warm smile to spread across Wanda's face.

"It's you!" Wanda exclaims, recognizing the woman as she rearranges her ponytail into a messy bun.

“Yup, it’s me,” The woman mutters with a grin, delighted to run into Wanda at this event. “I couldn’t help but notice, you're fast enough to clock a mile in under seven minutes.”

"You think so?" Wanda replies, her cheeks warming up at the unexpected compliment.

She nods at Wanda with an infectious enthusiasm. “I’m actually a co-founder of a running club. We're mostly from Queens and Brooklyn. How about joining us?”

Wanda couldn't recall the last time she had been involved in a group or community outside of work. The thought of meeting new people–individuals that share a common interest and goal–fills her with childlike excitement.

“Oh, I would love to!” Wanda exclaims. “How often do you guys meet?”

Wanda listens attentively as the woman gives her a rundown of their weekly group runs and the list of running events they had decided to join as a group.

The woman then extends her hand towards Wanda. "By the way, I'm Valkyrie, but just call me Val."

Grasping Val's hand, Wanda feels the warmth from her palm seeping into hers. “I’m–”

"Wanda. I know," Valkyrie interrupts, winking at her slyly before releasing her hand. Just as Wanda is about to respond, the sound of your voice captures her attention, taking her by surprise.

“Wanda?”

Wanda's smile trembles slightly, the vulnerability in her eyes betraying her surprise as she hears her name uttered by you. All week long, Wanda had put up walls, deciding not to contact you in an attempt to make it easier to bear the ache of missing you. But the opposite proved true. The act of holding back only amplified the very thing she’s been trying to avoid.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly turns to face you, trying her best to appear casual, “Y/N!”

Your face lights up at the confirmation that it’s indeed Wanda that you’ve spotted in the crowd.

Leaving Kate momentarily, you dart towards Wanda.

“Hey! Did you run too?” you inquire as you reach her, slightly breathless. “I didn’t spot you on the course at all.”

Wanda feels a sudden surge of self-consciousness, awkwardly sweeping a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink, not from the exertion of the run, but from the self-awareness that she's soaked in sweat. She fights the urge to take a quick sniff of herself in front of you. “I, uh, started near the front, so you might have missed me,” she says, clasping her hands together, trying to hide the lingering dampness that clings to her skin.

"Damn, I completely forgot how insanely athletic you are," you say in genuine awe. "You must have crossed that finish line way ahead of me."

Barging in your conversation, Kate clears her throat pointedly from behind you.

"Oh, this is Kate," you quickly introduce, gesturing to your friend standing nearby.

"Kate Bishop," Kate reaches out her hand, giving a short, somewhat awkward wave.

Wanda reciprocates the gesture, mimicking Kate's awkward wave.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Wanda," Wanda says with a friendly smile, and then remembers as well that she has company herself. "Oh, and guys, this is..."

“Valkyrie. But everyone just calls me 'Val',” Valkyrie chimes in, finishing the introduction herself. Your eyebrows raise slightly as you take in the newcomer, realizing that you don't recognize her from anywhere. Wanda's circle of friends has always been small, and your mind is quickly consumed with thoughts of how they met.

“You and Wanda…?” you find yourself asking, unable to stop the question before it tumbles out.

“We, uh–”

“We’re–”

Wanda and Valkyrie both start to speak at the same time, before sharing a laugh, while you manage to maintain a tight smile on your face.

Breaking the brief silence, Valkyrie takes charge of the conversation. "I met her at the cafe earlier this week. I didn't know she'd be here too, so I asked her to join my running club."

Kate jumps in with a teasing tone, "Meet cute," causing you to whip your head towards her, a grave expression on your face.

“Y/N, you should come along too,” Wanda suggests enthusiastically, before quickly realizing that it wasn't her place to invite. She turns apologetically towards Valkyrie, “I mean if you're looking for more people. Y/N is pretty fast–”

“Not as fast as you,” you say to Wanda.

“–and really committed to running. Her consistency and work ethic is nothing short of impressive.” Wanda finishes coyly.

Valkyrie eyes you up and down skeptically, her gaze sweeping over your toned body, particularly over your calves and thighs as she makes her assessment based solely on your physical looks.

“If Wanda’s vouching, then I trust her,” Valkyrie says, shifting closer to Wanda, her hand lightly touching Wanda's arm.

A surge of discomfort stirs within you as you witness their interaction. You decide right away that you don’t like this Valkyrie person. Something about her just rubs you the wrong way.

“Wanda, can I have a word with you?” you ask, not managing to keep the sharpness out of your voice.

At your words, Kate looks at you expectedly, but you're too preoccupied watching your former spouse to notice it.

"Sure," Wanda agrees, slightly taken aback by your sudden request. As you both excuse yourselves, the pair of you weave through the bustling crowd, Wanda falling into step beside you.

You can't help but steal glances at Wanda as you both walk side by side, her striking profile softened by the warm sunlight bathing the park. You can feel the curious eyes of both Valkyrie and Kate following you from a distance, their watchful gazes prompting you to maintain a respectable distance between you and Wanda.

Once you've found a less crowded area, you pivot to face her, trying to marshal your thoughts into coherent words. Yet before you can speak, Wanda preempts you.

“I’m sorry I never replied to your last text,” Wanda blurts out as soon as you both come to a stop. “I was on my way to the cafe when you... and then I just forgot about it, and I only realized I left you on read the next day–"

"Wanda, it's fine," you interrupt gently, smiling softly as you observe her anxious rambling. "There's no need to apologize. Life gets hectic, and we all have those moments. How is Sparky by the way?"

“He's in better condition and has adapted to his new diet. I no longer have to force him to eat, which is definitely an improvement.” Wanda says.

“That’s a relief,” you say faintly. “I'd be more than happy to help out and take him in from time to time.”

“Yes, he'd really appreciate that,” Wanda affirms with a nod. “And I-I would, too.”

A ripple of nervous laughter passes between you before Wanda redirects the conversation back to your intended topic. "So, what was it you wanted to discuss? Is there something on your mind?" she inquires.

You swallow hard, the growing anxiety clouding your ability to articulate your thoughts. Then, a sudden spark of inspiration kindles your mind. "T-The club," you stutter, snapping your fingers as though you've just recollected a vital detail. "What's the story there? Can anyone join?"

“Val didn’t mention anything specific. But it seems like a private group. Perhaps it's by invitation?” Wanda suggests.

“And you think it's okay for me to be part of it?" you ask, uncertain.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

You shrug, your thoughts circling back to Valkyrie's smug expression and her tendency to invade Wanda's personal space. You couldn't help but sense that Valkyrie's interest in Wanda extended beyond recruiting a fast runner to the group.

And isn't it quite the coincidence that she bumped into Wanda at this particular event?

It just…doesn’t sit well for you.

(Or perhaps your trust issues are a lot worse than you think.)

"I don't think she's thrilled about me joining," you say. Wanda gives you a baffled look that you’ve always found so endearing.

“You can’t be serious,” Wanda dismisses. “We've just met her today, so I think it’s a little weird if she doesn’t like you.”

You consider challenging her perspective, but instead you offer a polite smile, keeping your reservations to yourself.

"I'll tell you what," Wanda proposes, "If you don’t join the club, I won’t either."

"Wanda–"

"I'm serious, I'd feel out of place if I didn't know anyone there–"

"I'm not sure," you retort, nonchalantly shrugging. "You seem to have hit it off with Valerie."

"Valkyrie," Wanda corrects softly, a suspicion in her gaze, as if she's attempting to decipher a riddle she can't quite solve. "Not really. I just met her the other day. She doesn't even frequent the cafe.”

“Not yet," you mumble quietly, your words barely audible. “Alright. Inform me about the training schedule and location and I'll make an effort to attend.”

“I'll do that,” she agrees, and the two of you lapse into comfortable silence.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Wanda questions after a while.

"Sort of. I mean, it was getting crowded over there, and I wanted to say congratulations," you explain, a bashful smile gracing your face.

“Same to you, Y/N,” Wanda finds herself whispering the words–as if caught up in a romantic comedy movie scene, with a montage of breezy moments where the best parts of life simply pass by. It’s a feeling that’s becoming hard to escape whenever you’re around, even under ordinary circumstances; just you–with no makeup on, smelling of sweat and grass and soil–seems to just captivate her so.

“Come on,” she says and unwittingly takes your hand, biting her lip the second she realizes the contact she initiated. But she couldn't simply drop your hand as if she had been scorched.

As you near the spot where you'd left Kate and Valkyrie, you pull your hand free from Wanda's grip. Taking a deep breath, Wanda briefly manages to suppress the sting of rejection that grips her.

"So, sorted everything out?" Kate teases, her tone slightly acerbic as she addresses you privately. You can tell that she likely knows who Wanda is and can perceive the undercurrent of tension. Taking a casual walk with Wanda, especially with Kate around, might not have been the best decision, but you rationalize that you're not doing anything wrong.

You shoot Kate a dirty look in return, then bid goodbye to Wanda and Valkyrie.

"Catch you later, Y/N," Valkyrie throws in, her smirk conspicuous as she speaks just before you can head in the opposite direction.

***

You make it home just in time for breakfast. Yelena has ordered bagels and coffee, but her culinary abilities are also on display, illustrated by her recent success in frying bacon to the perfect crisp, steering clear of the usual outcome of a charred mess.

"Hey, baby, how was your run?" Yelena asks while setting up the breakfast spread on the dining table.

"I broke my personal best," you report to her, your face lighting up with pride. Swiftly, you begin to strip off your sweaty running clothes, heading towards the bedroom for a much-needed shower.

In just a few minutes, you step out of the bedroom with a towel slung over your neck, dressed in a threadbare shirt and nothing but your underwear. Your stomach rumbles loudly in anticipation of food. Yelena chuckles at your evident hunger and begins spreading cream cheese on your bagel while you add milk and sugar to your cup of coffee and hers.

"By the way," you begin tentatively, aware that it might be premature to broach what Kate had revealed to you. Nonetheless, you recognize the necessity of addressing the issue sooner rather than later. "Kate was there too, for the 6-miler. She... shared something with me that I think you should have discussed with me first. Something about a team transfer at work?"

Yelena's body stiffens noticeably, and she remains frozen for a brief moment. Her eyes betray a sense of uncertainty as she absorbs your words. But, after a few quick blinks, she collects herself and passes you your bagel on a plate.

“There's some truffle and honey in the fridge if you want to add them to yours,” Yelena offers.

An obvious deflection.

"Did you hear what I said? I said Kate–”

"Kate really ought to stop broadcasting every detail of my life whenever she has an opportunity,” Yelena mutters coldly.

“Don’t be mad at her. She was doing what she thought was right–”

“She had no right to meddle!” Yelena yells, her voice escalating, startling you with the sudden outburst. Her emotional fervor is more intense than you've ever seen, leaving you taken aback.

“She’s just worried about you,” you respond, striving to keep your voice calm to temper the situation. "But why didn't you tell me? We had an understanding that you didn't need to push her out of your life for me."

“Because it's my career–my choice,” Yelena insists, her tone unyielding. She is steadfast in her independence.

But her independence isn't the issue here. You’ve always been proud of how she can handle herself.

"Telling me about it isn’t an invitation for me to control you in any way, Yelena," you assure her. "I just wish you had enough faith in me to share the things that matter deeply to you. I care about you, and it stings a bit to be left out of these aspects of your life."

Yelena grows quiet at that, her fingers closing around her mug tightly as she processes your words and what it means for your relationship.

Trust.

It’s not that she doesn’t trust you enough–

“I feel guilty,” Yelena admits in a soft murmur, so faint that you strain to catch her words. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about how I've treated Kate, starting from when she confessed her feelings to me, right up until we started dating. Despite us being together, Kate and I remained close at work. We'd take lunch and breaks together, and we'd even take turns buying each other coffee, depending on who got to the office first…”

"It's like... I've been leading her on, you know? I've never given her the chance to get over me. I've come to realize that the feelings she had for me back then... they're still there, maybe even stronger than before. I can't keep messing with her emotions like that," Yelena confesses, sipping her coffee as if seeking solace in the soothing warmth of the drink.

You nod, the pieces finally starting to fall into place. “Did you talk to Kate about this? Or did you just cut her off?”

The guilty look that flashes across Yelena's face tells you everything you need to know.

“She thinks you're angry with her because she told me about... about what happened between you two,” you say, still a little uncomfortable bringing up the past.

Yelena lets out a sigh, her shoulders sagging. “I've been handling this Kate situation all wrong, haven't I?”

“Just talk to her,” you advise gently. Getting up from your chair, you walk over to Yelena and start massaging her tense shoulders. “She said that she would rather quit her job than let you transfer to another team and mentor."

“Really?” Yelena sounds surprised. “Did she mean it?”

"I'm not sure," you reply, shrugging your shoulders. "She simply mentioned that she's rich.”

“She’s grossly rich,” Yelena confirms, letting out a content sigh as you find a particularly tight knot in her muscle. "But she loves journalism. I won’t let her quit something she's passionate about.”

You recognize the irony in Yelena's last sentence but decide to remain silent on the matter.

“By the way, Wanda was there too,” you say carefully, watching Yelena's reaction closely. “She crossed the finish line way before me, I think. She was with a friend.”

Yelena's response is evasive, offering no real insight. "That's nice for her," she remarks, keeping her emotions well in check.

You quickly change the topic, feeling somewhat foolish for bringing up something she apparently doesn't care about, even though you were simply trying to be open and honest. You decide to avoid mentioning your ex-wife for the time being.

“Anyhow,” you segue, hoping to direct the conversation in a new direction, “Would you like to join me for my next fun run?”

“Me? Up and running at four in the morning? That's about as likely as snow in the Sahara,” Yelena replies, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “I'll just use a line from my favorite show,” she quips, her laugh filling the room. “‘Jogging is the worst, Y/N! I mean, I know it keeps you healthy. But God, at what cost?’”

Your mouth forms a small 'o' as you consider your response, feeling slightly let down that she isn't even slightly tempted to join you. “To be fair, jogging and running are not the same thing. Running recruits a different muscle group–”

“God, you’re such a nerd,” Yelena cuts in, a mischievous glint in her eyes as her hand delicately finds the back of your neck. She draws you nearer until your lips are tantalizingly close. “Keep doing what you love, baby,” she murmurs, her breath brushing over your partially opened lips. “And I'll continue pursuing mine.” Then she claims your lips in a deep kiss.

Your body instinctively melts into her touch, your hand gently tracing the curve of Yelena's waist, sending a shiver racing down her spine.

"I've got a better idea for a workout that doesn't involve clothes but might be more fun," Yelena suggests with a breathless laugh, stepping back slightly.

A playful smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth as you pull your shirt over your head.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction

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obislittleone · 10 months ago

Text

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 13

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: This one's dark dark... Mentions of sexual abuse, human trafficking, murder, burning alive, mentions of blood. Mentions of suicide, suicide attempt, depression and anxiety.

Chapter Summary: One tribute remains in the arena with Mercedes... but which one?

Word Count: 3.5k

hello people yes i'm sorry for the delay I've been busy setting up a store front (I know I said I was not gonna be busy but I guess more things started happening so) but I will be getting back to posting I swear.

The dress you’re wearing is now drenched, as your hips are fully submerged. It was white and purple, stingrays printed all over the fabric. It was quite beautiful, but not so much now that it clung to your skin. The dark woolen sweater overtop wasn’t doing anything to warm you, not like that was your objective, anyway. You got deeper than last time, the water drenching your shoulders. You let your eyes close, and let your steps take you until you heard paddling behind you.

Finnick went to bed. He knows that he's done everything he can do, and that there are only two tributes left. He’s given everything he has and if it isn’t enough, he knows he can’t stand to watch it play out in front of him. Even though he believes in you, on the off chance that he’s wrong, he can’t watch you die.

So he goes to bed.

He doesn’t sleep, mind you… there’s no way in hell he could, but he locks himself away in his room, no screens, no capitol pigs to entertain, and no victors to talk to. He doesn’t want anyone’s company but yours right now. He keeps thinking about the last glimpse he had of you. The bare skin of your shoulder as you boarded the jet. It was so simple, so unimportant, and yet it burned itself into his mind. If that’s his last memory of you, he knows it will be well preserved for the rest of his life. He tried to remember the last glimpse he had of last year's tributes but he can’t for the life of him come up with any imagery. Hell, he doesn’t even remember his last glimpse of Lukas.

He sits alone past sundown, about three or four hours. He can hear no cheering in the capitol outside of his window, nor can he hear the thunderous applause from several floors below him.

He starts getting anxious when he hears the noises of anticipation growing from the balcony of the winner’s circle, and so he closes his window to make sure the whispers of the outside cannot dictate his mind… as if they had the power to, anyway. His mind was still on you, your soft skin, the way he’d seen you in the silken nightgown after your interview. You’d been so soft, so angelic. You were mercy in its purest form, and he cannot think of a better word to describe you. What was once a threat to your chances in the games would now always be on his mind as a reminder of who you truly are. Whether you come out of that arena or not, he knows the word will echo through his brain always. Mercy, Mercy, Mercy…

He had rested his head against his pillows, nearly finding rest when it all fell apart.

The silence was broken, and the thunderous applause of the outside sent him jolting into action.

He cannot explain the terrible feeling he had there and then, but he knows it can’t mean anything good.

He practically tears through the apartment to turn on the screen, and he can’t believe what’s happened.

It was later in the evening, the waters of four sloshing around your ankles as you did your best to slowly merge deeper into them. It’s been a long time, but you’re tired of the nasty looks, tired of all the bullying and name calling. Tired of never being able to get a word out without stares or laughs or your head pounding from the stress of producing a single sentence. Your mind was too fast for your mouth, and it was getting to be unbearable. You hate the way you sound, the way others perceive you. You hate yourself and the fact that you can’t be balanced or coherent.

The last time you tried this, you had every intention of coming out, but you’d needed saving, as usual. No one was here, this time, and that’s how you wanted it.

Your mother will miss you, that’s for sure. Your father will grieve you in his long days of work, and you imagine a certain young fisherman will have to find ways to pass the time without you… but you can’t stand another day in this world. This world built by the Capitol of Panem is a cruel enough place without adding a speech impediment and crushing anxiety into the mix.

You step deeper and deeper, and the water is cold this time of night. It sends a shiver up your spine that makes you wrap your arms around yourself. You do your best to keep the tears at bay. They don’t really do anything but make this harder. Your body is already reaping the nasty consequences of your decision, you don’t need to be racking sobs on top of it.

You start shaking in fear and adrenaline when the water reaches your knees, something that shouldn’t make even the smallest child in four tremble. You contemplate letting your weight take you out, falling over would let nature take its course but for some reason you are insistent upon doing it this way. You have to secure the outcome, and sinking this shallow won’t do you any favors.

You let your eyes close, and let your steps take you until you heard paddling behind you.

“Mercedes! What the hell are you doing?”

And again to your rescue came the boy you would miss most.

He got close enough to wrap his arms around you, and you threw yourself into him, eyes bawling a river of tears that could make the tide rise in this ocean. He saved you, he always would. He’d been there since the beginning, and he’d be there till the end. If ever there was something to happen to him, you weren’t sure what you would do.

Without him, you would need another to protect you. Not because you needed saving from others, but often because you needed saving from yourself.

He sat on the beach with you, helping you calm down, using his jacket he’d left on the sands to help dry you off and keep you warm. He’d walk you back to your home, but he figured that was the last place you’d want to be on account of giving an explanation.

“What were you trying to do?” He asked, but he didn’t need to. He’d already known by the slow and steady pacing you’d held that you didn’t plan on stopping. He knew you were trying to get rid of your problems once and for all.

You stayed silent, a few hiccups and tears resurfacing at his question. He knew, and you knew… you had wanted to die.

“Why wouldn’t you talk to me?” Was his next question, and this time you felt you owed him an answer, but he wasn’t done. “If I hadn’t been here-”

“I’m s-so sorry, Lukas.”

He hugged you tighter into his side, the pain in his own chest increasing when he heard how hurt you still were through your voice.

“Don’t be sorry. Just please, talk to me the next time you get an idea like that. Promise me you will,” he knew it was juvenile, but he held his pinky up anyways, just like when you both were children and made him use the meaningless motion.

You took it, locking fingers but not letting go yet. You let your hands sink to the sand the way they were intertwined, and kept your head rested on his shoulder.

“If someone had found you washed up tomorrow, I don’t know what I would do… I don’t think I’d ever get over it if you died.”

You felt terrible, not just because it was a foolish mistake on a depressive whim, but because you would have affected not only his life, but the lives of your family on account of a really bad day.

“You can’t die, Mercedes… I’m sorry, but I won’t let you.”

You jolted awake, your head slamming back against the tree you were sleeping by. You didn’t have time to think, or to process a thing, because the sound of the twig snapping in the distance put you on guard.

Your knife was in your hand, and you had to be prepared to face either Estelle or Brock. Both outcomes would be easily accounted for. You had no intention of losing anymore. There was a venom in your veins, a fiery need for revenge. It consumed you.

The note that Finnick sent you wasn’t just telling you to kill this tribute, it was telling you something more.

Show no Mercy. Don’t be merciful, but also, don’t be you. Forget yourself, and become something you swore you wouldn’t. You would have just given up and died had it been a different situation. Had your best friend’s blood not been staining your body.

Out from the shadows of the humid forest, and into the light of your torch flame, Estelle stepped forward, her knife in her hands, and a wicked look on her face.

“I would never have expected it to be us,” She said, her mouth twitching into a smirk. What kind of game was this to her?

The hunger games are a terrible thing for all involved, but some tributes… they like it. The way they get to kill and be praised for it. She’s one of them.

“You k-killed Brock?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as if annoyed you would even question it.

“When it comes down to three tributes, you can’t keep allies. I knew I could kill you, but it was easier to kill him first. He wasn’t expecting to die before you, so it was pretty easy. Stabbed him in the back, literally.”

You twisted your face in disgust. You would give anything for Lukas to be alive right now, and here she is, bragging shamelessly about killing her ally.

“You s-should have waited.”

She looked at you with surprise, taking more steps towards you while flipping her knife in her hand.

“We’ll see.”

She stepped at you immediately with a swing of her weapon, but you had been on pins and needles, dodging the attack and trying to get the upper hand. You weren’t skilled in combat. You didn’t know what you were doing. She caught you off guard, pinning you to the tree and trying to dig her knife into your skull.

The advantage you did have was your strength. You were able to push her arm back, keeping the knife a good distance away while being able to slash yours back over her shoulder, the blood splattering your face and your hair. She yelped in pain, but was back on you, chasing you the few steps you took away from the tree.

“Get over here,” she sneered, her energy becoming more vapid and ruthless as she started swinging aimlessly with all the strength she had. You were able to get out of the entanglement and carefully lead her back towards the tree, but on the other side. You purposely fell out of the way and over the gathering of rocks you’d formed, landing on your back. Looking up at her, your knife had been lost in the dirt, and she had every right to believe she had the upper hand.

“I’ve worked my entire life for this, and killing you,” she pointed her knife at you, her steps slowly coming forward until she was right where you wanted her. “Is going to be the most satisfying thing I’ll ever do.”

“I’m n-not afraid to d-die.”

She scoffed, stepping forward one more time, losing her balance on the hidden tripwire. You quickly shuffled back when she fell forward, watching as your woven rope trap fell from the tree canopy above. The rocks attached to the four corners weighed her down, and she’d lost sight of her knife.

“I’ve n-never been afraid to die… I’m afraid t-to live.”

You stood up next to the tree, taking in your hands the lit torch you’d set up earlier. You came before her once more, a pitying look on your face, but it wasn’t for her.

“I guess I’ll have to f-face my fears.”

And with that, you dropped the torch onto the rope, watching it catch faster than a candle wick.

A mound of giant flames was seen, and an abundance of screams and painful cries were heard, but you didn’t wince. There was no compassion in you for the one who took away from you what you had held so dear. There was nothing you wanted anymore.

You fell to your knees upon hearing the cannon, and curled into yourself with your hands over your head to try and dull the sound. You’ll be traumatized by cannonfire for the rest of your life, you know it. Even hearing it now, and feeling the fire still ablaze before you, you cannot feel peace.

Your enemy is defeated, the person who took everything from you is gone, but it didn’t

satisfy you. You still felt empty, and cold, despite the fire, and despite whom it consumed.

You only stood back up when you heard the canopy of the trees part over your head, a carrier lowering itself to take you away. It sounded crazy, and you know that mentally you shouldn’t even be thinking this, but you don’t want to leave this arena. You don’t want to leave Lukas here without you, and you don’t want to leave the place you last saw him alive. You have no intention of getting on the craft until it lands, and several men begin to pull and prod at you until you’ve boarded.

You take one last glance at the rainforest behind you before the door raises and closes. You’ll never see it again. Never see Lukas again. Never see any of your allies again. Twenty-four tributes went in, and you came out… and you hate everything about that.

His heart was pounding, his footsteps racing. People spoke to him as he walked by, but he didn’t hear any of it. They were all muted in his sense of urgency. It was real, but he had to see for himself, touch for himself.

It was quick and all at once, the relief, the anxiety, and a new rush of sorrowful emotions. A cycle of the three, rotating constantly and turning his stomach over each time. He sees the back of your shoulder and arm, the only thing visible from behind the separation curtain between each medical bed. He never understood why there were so many. There was always only one winner. It’s not like this was a hospital.

His feet still carried him, the walkway, though crowded with a team of experienced staff, were no match for him. He barreled through, earning little protest from anyone. He supposed it was a perk of being a Capitol darling, no one could ever tell him no in a setting like this.

Your back faced him. Your hair, once braided in a unique and athletic style by Dalton, had been completely destroyed, strands sticking out, some covered in a dried red substance he didn’t care to think about right now. It had been all over you.

“Mercedes,” his whispered word reached your ears, and you turned your head. Bloodshot eyes gazed back into his, and the entire world stopped for you.

He’s right there. The thought you’d been holding onto in the arena. The mentor who had taken such good care of you both in and out of the games. The only one you wanted to see right now.

Due to his stillness, you almost thought him to be a figment of your imagination, a culmination of your dwindling sanity that somehow managed to form an actual manifestation… but then he stepped forward, once, twice, three times.

He was careful, treating you like a scared animal. He’s seen what people can be like when they come back from the games. Sometimes they can’t tell that they’re no longer in them. He didn’t want to freak you out, or even make you feel the slightest bit uneasy.

“Finnick,” your eyes welled up with tears for the millionth time, and you tried your best not to let them fall now. This was a happy moment, don’t cry. Be happy. You survived the hunger games. It wasn’t even supposed to be you.

He came close, not yet touching what he didn't know he could. You weren’t stiff by any means, but you just seemed so monotonous. So still and weak, and still scared. He took the moment to look at you more. Blood was smeared on your face, your neck, your arms. There were few places it wasn’t residing.

He couldn’t help but reach up with one hand, his fingertips brushing over your shoulder. It had been the last thing he saw of you, and now the first. He hoped you weren’t so damaged from how you’d been when he saw you last. You had so much you needed to tell him, he’d remembered. He remembered because it was his hope for you to come back.

“Are you hurt?” He knew he should have added a word, but it slipped his brain. Physically, are you hurt physically?

You shook your head, understanding what he meant. You didn’t want to have to ask, but you wanted his comfort, wanted his embrace. You just survived the worst tragedy someone of your age could experience, and yet, were too scared to ask for a simple hug.

“W-will you-” you stopped short, the question hiding behind your teeth. You took a shallow breath and met his eyes. “Will you h-hold me?”

“Yes.”

His arms didn't hesitate to move of their own accord. They swarmed around your bare shoulders, smudging the dried blood around and making it feel crusty beneath his long sleeve shirt. He could care less. This shirt could never be worn again and yet he would sacrifice every shirt he had if it meant keeping you here and now, in his embrace. It comforted you, it helped you find peace.

You hadn’t been able to think or speak of anything else since you left that arena. He was the happy thought on the carrier ride, and in the transport truck, and now even here in the medical ward. He was the sustainability that you craved to go on. You still wished it had been you. Someone else should be sitting here and thinking about going home. It should be Rodey or Lukas or Lyra. The people who saved you from harm and protected you when all else were out to kill you. You didn't blame those kids, either. They were just playing by the rules, doing what they were told.

You didn't even want to go home. You didn't know what you would do when you got there. You didn't know if you could look your mother in the eye after what you had done. Your father would be ashamed of you. Your little brother would have to grow up with your reputation hanging over his head. You're a murderer, and a nasty one at that.

The worst part about Estelle's death was that you didn't regret it. You were happy to stand there and kill her, completely enthused to watch her body be consumed in flames while she flailed about, burning to a crisp. It gave you a sense of pride, that justice had been done for your allies, the ones who should have won.

She's the only thing about the games you don't regret. You should have stopped the venom from killing Lyra, you should have shoved off Rodey when he went to take the hit for you, and you should have pulled Lukas into the water. Those were the biggest regrets.

Here and now, with everything that was at stake, you shouldn't be here. You should still be in the arena, or wherever they lay the tributes to rest after the games are over.

Finnick felt you tense in his arms a few times, and he knew it was probably due to your thoughts. He remembers how badly they tortured him when he came home. His guilt was riding on his shoulders for weeks, all hidden under a stunning smile, of course. It was all he could do to mask how horribly he really felt. It wasn't long after that he’d been asked to start his favors for Snow.

He'd been thinking about that all of last night. When he didn't know if you were going to live or die, he thought about all the things that could happen in either scenario. If you won, you'd be dealt the cards that he was. If you lost, you could escape it in peace. If you won, he'd be able to hold you just like he's doing now, but if you lost, he'd have to suffer the loss of you. He'd have thought about you every time he looked at a new promising tribute. He'd have to think about the promise he made himself and how he'd not only failed to honor it, but failed to save you.

He shook it all out of his head. You were here, and you were alive. His sweet Mercy.

“I'm gonna take care of you. I promise.”

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn @emma-andrea1 @marvelescvpe

#finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair thg #finnick odair #thg finnick #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x oc #the hunger games #sam claflin x reader #sam claflin #katniss everdeen #catching fire

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years ago

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Unexpected 3

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The list of what you can do is shorter than those things barred from you. The doctor merely confirmed your deepest fears and sealed Lloyd’s sentence. A baby. A whole other life and you’re supposed to be responsible for it. You know for a fact he won’t be, at least, not beyond tossing money at the situation.

Your arm is tender from the implant removal. The procedure was emblematic of your state. The excision of part of yourself, the last remnant of your old self. You mourn the loss quietly, keeping your face blank as you pretend to read the literature shoveled into your hands by the nurse before your departure.

Lloyd is gleeful, he can’t hide his joy but you are not deluded. It’s not some wholesome delight at bringing a new life into the world, no, it’s celebrating the life he’s ruined. Yours. A child is the brand that marks your ownership.

As you enter his house, it feels bleak. The pristine white and gold aesthetic is dingy and beige to your eyes. The world is grimmer, constricted. Your leash is tight and cannot reach beyond these walls.

A sudden smack across your ass jolts you from your melancholic trance. Lloyd takes a pamphlet from the pile clutched in your hands and unfolds it. He gives it a once over and hands it back.

“I got a treadmill in the gym. You should hop on that every once in a while. Stuff says you need to stay active,” he shrugs, “wouldn’t mind a workout buddy.”

You squint at him. There it is. All those times Colin gently tried to goad you. ‘There’s a special at the gym’, ‘let’s make a new years resolution’,’ it wouldn’t be a bad idea to try something new’.

“Or… I could go for walks outside,” you suggest, “get some fresh air.”

“Don’t be fucking smart,” he warns, “I’m not being a fuckhead here, I’m trying to help. Do what’s best for the baby but don’t you dare lose that fucking ass. A brisk pace, no running.”

You sigh. This man has the audacity to dictate everything around him as if the world is built just for him. In his head, maybe it is. From the looks of it, he’s never been denied anything in his life.

“So, you still don’t trust me?”

“Trust?” He clucks, “that’s a funny concept. But no. You wanna go for a walk, I’ll take you out for one like a good pet.”

You scowl and he smirks, reaching to tap the end of your nose. You wipe your face of all emotion and pull away, refocusing on the booklets in your hand.

“Decaf,” he declares, “and we should look into some vitamins. Doc says at your age–”

“I wish you hadn’t just welcomed yourself in, you know? It’s kind of… private.”

“Hey, I’m the father, I got every right to know what’s going on with my kid.”

“Mmm, sure, and what about when the kid shows up? How about diapers? Colic? Sticky hands?”

“That’s what nanny’s are for,” he wrinkles his nose, “ew, you’re– such a pessimist, baby face.”

And you're a dumbass, you keep the retort to yourself and shake your head at the next page. No coffee, no hot baths, no sushi… Sounds like a wonderful nine months.

“One thing at a time,” he nears and grasps the clutter in your hands. A brief tug-of-war as you clamp down but relent, letting him take it before it scattered, “we still got a wedding to plan.”

“Plan? I thought Vegas was easy–”

“Dresses,” he insists as he places the papers in the console table drawer, “get your coat off. We’re gonna do a little fashion show.”

“Oh, fuck off. Just gimme the one with the most last,” you huff as you unbutton your coat.

“I think we should weigh our options, baby,” he opens the closet and hangs his jacket, “so you’re gonna strut and do a pretty little spin. If your ass don’t look good, we know it’s not the one.”

“You are so romantic,” you say dryly as you add your coat to the row along the rod.

“Oh, I’m thinking the whole nine yard. Veil, flowers, something blue, something inside you–”

“Right, let’s just get this over with before I vomit,” you interrupt him.

“Ah, little baby Hansen already causing trouble.”

“No, you. You make me sick.”

He snickers and grabs your arm. He pulls you to him, his other arm looping around you. He leans in and you try to turn your face away. He catches your chin and holds you in place as he plants a sloppy kiss on your mouth.

“You think they’ll let me kiss you other lips at the altar,” he purrs as he parts, “climb up under your skirt–”

“Do you ever stop?”

“Not really,” he answers, another slap on your ass, “let’s go, peaches.”

He keeps an arm around you as he guides you away from the entryway and back to the front room where the rack of dresses waits. The golden bar has been righted and the garment bags rehung. Lloyd lets you go and strides ahead of you, pushing apart the wire hangers with a hum.

“Oh, this one is my front runner,” he turns to you and holds out a white bag, “this one first.”

You glare at him and slowly approach, taking it with hesitance.

“So, when exactly is this wedding supposed to happen because I probably won’t fit into these soon–”

“You sign?” He challenges.

You swallow and give an indecisive look to the ceiling.

“I told you I would–”

“Later,” he waves you off, “don’t spoil this.”

You barely keep from rolling your eyes. You? Spoil it? You look down at the hang and drag away the long garment bag.

“Change here,” he insists as he sits on the sofa, stretching his arms wide across the back, “behind that… whatever.”

He points to the fanned divider placed to the impractical aesthetic of whatever designer he paid to decorate. You sniff and near the wall, pulling it out to angle it around so you have some room behind it. You peek over at him as he feels his mustache and smirks at the room.

You dip behind the barrier and unzip the bag. The contents are worse than you could ever imagine. A white leather halter dress. Not your style, if you can claim to have any. You sigh and pull it out.

“What’s up, doll face?” Lloyd taunts from the other side.

“Nothing,” you lie, your tone betraying your agitation.

You undress and open the zipper as wide as it goes. You struggle to pull the tight leather sheath up your body and strain to do it up. You’re less impressed by the cut out over your cleavage and long split down the thigh. Worse, the way it stretches over your stomach makes you feel even more exposed.

“This isn’t it,” you drone, “I’m taking it off–”

“Get out here,” he speaks over you.

“Lloyd, I hate it–”

“That shit’s designer so you walk your ass out here and give me a look,” he intones, “now, sweetheart.”

You hold back another frustrated exhale and move slowly. The leather creaks loudly and you cringe. You come around the divider and march over to the sofa. You stop before him and cross your arms.

“It’s too small.”

“Fuck,” he leans forward and steeples his hands, brushing his fingers up under his chin, “you look fucking hot.”

“Don’t–”

“Your tits look huge. Like… humongous–” He makes a motion as if squeezing your chest.

You stare at him, unable to conceal your anger. Is he just saying he likes it because he knows you don’t or is he really that tacky?

“Turn,” he spins his finger in the air. You take a breath and obey. As you do, he growls and slaps his thigh. “Damn, that ass. I mean, you can’t see it but let me tell you, it looks magnificent. The kinda ass a man could dive right into.”

“Right, thanks,” you face him again with a sneer, “can I take this shit off?”

“You can hike up that skirt and give daddy a ride,” he sits back as he drags his hands up his pants and pulls his knees apart. The bulge beneath the white pants is all too obvious.

“This isn’t the dress, Lloyd. There are a dozen more–”

“I know it’s not, but you gotta fuck me in it at least once,” he picks at his fly.

You cringe and slowly bend to grab the skirt, pushing it back at the split as you get closer. He pulls his dick above his pants and strokes himself, reaching for your hip as he guides you into his lap. You get on your knees as you fight the leather around you and he rubs his tip against your entrance.

You sink down onto him and he trails his fingertips up your body. He covers your tits with his hands and squeezes, bucking below you as he groans.

“Fuck, baby, I don’t think I’m ready to share these,” he leans forward and buries his face in your cleavage, shaking his head with a lewd noise. He pulls back and tilts his head up to look at you, “I’m just fine with a formula baby.”

You push him against the couch and rock your hips. It’s the only way to shut him up. And you’ll gladly take a moment of peace before they’re gone for good.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #unexpected #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #the gray man

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tojiscumdumpster · 11 months ago

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ PART THREE - TOJI

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀summary page

✧ content warnings su*icidal thoughts (very brief. just one sentence)

God, she’s so damn pretty. Ten years later, and Y/N looks the same as before. Actually, no. She’s gotten more gorgeous. What came with age was fuller curves and a rounder face. But her deep brown complexion still shines the same when the sun kisses her skin.

I watched her sleep like a creep after I made love to her and that tight pussy. Talk about being dead. I feel alive after fucking Y/N. After being reunited after so many years. After saying… saying I love her.

It was never my intention to stop by Y/N’s apartment after seeing my kid. Hell, I didn’t even think she would still be living here, but I had to check. And I’m glad that I did.

Maybe it was selfish of me to come see Y/N when, based on her reaction, knew that I was dead. Me coming here probably hurts more and gives her the illusion that I’ll be here forever.

I’m not.

I’m temporary. Just how it was ten years ago because I always knew I wasn’t going to last long in this world.

And even when I knew that I still pursued Y/N. I’m not saying it with pride, but I don’t care. I needed her. I needed that fucking addicting energy.

Then, when I realized I love her… she wasn’t going anywhere. I wouldn’t let her. So, yeah. Maybe I’m a dick for building a temporary connection with Y/N, but what I had with her was one of my best memories. And I don’t keep many of those.

But soon, that’ll come to an end.

Again .

I can’t stay here forever. Not even for another hour. I have to go now because any longer I’ll become more than selfish.

“You like what you see?” Y/N’s asks, pulling me back to reality. She’s awake, and there’s this type of sexiness in her sleepy voice that makes me hard.

I gently push her coils away from her forehead. “Always.”

“…What happened?”

Already knowing what she’s talking about, I began answering her question.

“That white-haired brat that I sent to tell you I’m not coming killed me. I got too fucking cocky.”

“So how are you here right now?”

I sit up, looking at my hand then to her. “Honestly… I don’t know. It had something to do with that cursed technique shit I told you about.”

“I see.” She looked down and I took notice of her eyes watering.

I caress her cheeks. “Don’t cry for me, sweets.”

“Ten years, Toji. Ten years I went without you. Been without you. Everything was robbed from us,” she explains. “It was hard for me to adjust to your death. Still is, but I’m trying.”

When I look at her, I see someone broken. Hurt. Betrayed. She’s crying for me because of me. I made the wrong decision… Here I am, yet again, being the cause of Y/N’s pain.

“I waited a week for you, and you never came back. I even said a pep talk to myself to leave you alone when I saw you again. Who knew that would’ve been my permanent reality.”

“I’m sorry, sweets, but you’re an angel,” I say to her, rubbing her bottom lip with my thumb. “You were never meant to be with someone like me. We wouldn’t have lasted even if I wasn’t killed.”

What am I doing?

A frown forms between her brows. “What are you talking about? Why do you keep saying that?” She also sits up to look me dead on. “You’ve been saying this since we met, Toji. I’m a fully grown adult and more than capable to dictate who can and cannot be in my life. Why don’t you understand that I love you?”

“Because I’m not a lovable person. I’m not meant to have love.”

I serve no purpose in this world.

“Yet here I am, loving you. I’ve loved you for ten years! Even after you were killed, I desired only you. You ,”—she points her finger at my chest— “own my heart. I don’t want anyone else, but you and I can’t even have you because you’re dead. I don’t know how you’re here right now–I might be fucking hallucinating, but you’re dead!”

Her breaths are shallow and tears stream down her face. How can someone look so beautiful while in pain?

Y/N is right. I am dead. If I can take a guess, I was summoned to wreak havoc. But rather than doing that, I came to see her one last time. I should’ve killed myself after I came across my kid.

Coming here was a mistake.

She makes me feel like… a human. These emotions brewing inside of me creates an attachment to a world I have no reason being in. Y/N is my attachment. No matter how many times I try to see myself as less than a human, her love will always give me hope to a reality I didn’t think was possible.

Coming here wasn’t a mistake. Walking out her door ten years ago was.

I didn’t mean to hurt her. Not like this.

“I have to go,” I say, abruptly, leaving her bed to head toward the balcony. I knew I wouldn’t be here for long, so after we had sex, my clothes were back on.

I just wanted to spend a bit more time with her.

“What-where are you going?” She gets out of bed, bare body on display, to follow me. “Toji, where are you going?”

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“What? Why?” she asks, sounding frantic. “Fuck, where’s my shirt? Where’s my fucking shirt?”

By now, I’m at the edge of the balcony, ready to leave. I look back at Y/N to see her put on clothes to follow me. I look back to see the woman I love and the life I could’ve had.

Growing old and being with someone forever sounds like hell. But with Y/N? It would’ve been more than worth it. She even had optimism to believe I can make amends with my kid.

I don’t want to leave her. Not again.

Before I leave, I go to her one last time and place a soft kiss on her forehead, halting her from her movements. Y/N is breathless, but still manages to take my fucking breath away.

God, I’m going to fucking miss her.

“Toji, please don’t leave me. Not yet. Just a little longer, baby.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” she asks, accusingly.

Both .

“Looks like I was able to keep my promise.” I try to leave, but she grabs my hand.

“Toji! No, please. Please, don’t leave me. We can figure something out. Just stay. I can’t do this alone.”

It’ll be hard, but you can. Someone will be good enough to love you properly.

“Why did you come back? Why did you tell me you love me just to leave? Just to say you kept the fucking promise?”

“I said I would come back to you and say it. That’s what I did,” I argued.

“So stay now! Stay with me! I don’t give a shit about your nihilistic attitude. Do this for me. For once, don’t be selfish.”

“I c-”

“You know what? I hate you. I hate you so much, Toji. You just keep hurting me over and over again, and I never learn. Why can’t you just do this for me?” She falls to her knees and begins sobbing uncontrollably. “ Please… just for me.”

I wish you can understand how badly I fucking love you.

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

If I stayed any longer, I knew it would be harder for me to leave. I jumped over the balcony and left Y/N crying in her apartment. She screams, cries, curses at me any and every emotion that comes to that pretty mind of hers, causing my empty heart to feel the same way it did on the day I was killed.

Broken .

I thought maybe after my wife died long ago, I would reaffirm my identity by fighting that Gojo brat. To go against the Zen’in Clan and prove to them I’m not a fuck up. That they should fear someone like me who lacks cursed energy.

I thought love made me weak.

I allowed my pride to get the best of me.

Now, having love taken away from me for the second time, makes me regret warping to my usual self. I kept fucking saying I held no purpose in the sorcerer world, but I continued fighting in it. Just to stroke my ego.

I had a chance to feel like a human again and fucked it up by leaving Y/N that day. I don’t know how many times I have to tell her that I’m sorry, but I am.

I’m so sorry, sweets.

Another selfish thing for me to ask is to forgive me. So maybe if we found each other in another life, I could love you properly.

That’s the only thing I’ll beg for while I’m atoning my sins in the afterlife.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

THE END.

hello. thank you for reading until the end. if you're interesting in continuing this couple's journey, i suggest you read, words i've finally said.

#jjk x black reader #anime x black!reader #toji x black reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji x reader #toji angst #jjk angst

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