#and his dream seems to be just burning down the world
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Strawberry Dreams
Blueberry Boy!Kai x Strawberry Shortcake!Reader
summary: Kai knows a girl and he knows that no one is sweeter. She's got that special touch.
content: nsfw/mdni short thoughts, aphrodisiac body, fem.reader, innocent reader+kai kinda corrupting each other, oral (f. & m. rec), breeding kink, descriptions of cum, cum eating, missionary, riding
word count: 900
In Strawberryland where all the people are happy and a little fruity. A big plump strawberry cottage sits in a green meadow and across was a just as big blueberry house. Cute, shy, Blueberry Boy Kai, sits and waits watching your house. Waiting until his best friend opens her red and white striped curtains and unlock the top of her front dutch door, and like clock work you did. "Hi Kai!" "Hi y/n!!!" You're Strawberry Shortcake, you are Kai's best friend in the world and the most popular girl of the place. You wave to all your friends while riding your bike all through town and to your bakery booth. While Blueberry Kai follows you close behind. Your booth is open 5 days a week at the Strawberryland Farmers' Market and Kai is always there to help you set up.
On your free days you were consistently making your strawberry shortcake desserts while Kai strums his guitar on your pink fluffy rug in your very red living room. "Mmm Kai you need to try this!" The blueberry boy is swift on his feet prepared to grab a spoon to try your new icing, but he stops once he sees your fingers stretched out in front of him. His form bends down to lick your fingers getting more than a taste of your icing. His agrees that the icing tastes really good, but something felt odd... he felt different... Hungry, not in his stomach, hunger burned in his chest down to his groin. Kai's blue eyes study your focused face attention back on your pastry. The next events happens fast, you gasp feeling something soft and wet licking your neck. You look down only to see a fluff of the blueberry boy's sapphire hair. Now you were questioning this same new feeling something weird yet felt good...
Poor, poor strawberry you, you didn't know that your strawberry nature was an aphrodisiac. Now that your blueberry boy had a taste, he's addicted. A whole pandora's box of smut and so on...
Your booth had a late start that Monday when you asked help to bring up the canopy. Kai walks up behind you raising his arms successfully creating a cover for your little shop, but then you feel something poking you. You turn around with worried eyes only to be faced with a predatory stare from Kai. Leading him to fuck you under the table of the booth. Once you begged him to stop because you needed to start business he respectfully stops, but he never leaves his spot under the table. Finding relief to eat you out while you try so hard to give the greatest customer service.
You were an aphrodisiac, but your slick was something more to Blueberry Kai. A sweet taste of fresh strawberries that strike his sweet tooth just right. His long tongue explored your folds intently, learning fast what soft parts have you shaking.
But who knew your best friend would make you just as obsessive. It seemed like Blueberry Kai's scent became stronger every sexual encounter you two had. He had an earthy scent that smelled close to a childhood memory made you feel warm inside. His cheeks turned the brightest pink every kiss you gave. Head lowering down to what seemed like a chronically erected dick, you soon found another addiction, his purple blueberry scone flavored cum. So sweet yet a little salty, you'd do anything to hear his whimpered moans and to get your tongue a shade of his lilac cum.
"Come on, Shortcake, what's taking you so long?" You bite your tongue as your hear your lemony friend call out. "B-berry I was supposed to go out with my friends today." However you were far from ready to go out, at that moment your legs were over Kai's shoulders while he was balls deep in you. "Come on, sweet, just one more." it will be 3 more until that blueberry is tired and you can go hangout with your friends
Let me take it a step further and mention Kai's new found breeding kink and loving the idea of a strawberry/blueberry hybrid child. You're making a pie with a mini version of him with purple hair, that's what he envisions when he sees you all creampied with his cum. You make Kai want to do it again and again when you whine out of arousal every time he pushes his sweet cum back in your cunt.
A sweet picnic turned into a make-out session. You two bike down the road eventually turning into a dirt path next to a big lake. Laying a gingham blanket on the plush emerald grass, shaded by the trees that encapsulate the area. You sit close to the Blueberry Boy, feeding him a triangular cut jelly sandwich. Oops, some jelly is left on his lip, you lick it off. Leading to a kiss, to an open mouth kiss, his tongue gets a taste of you quickly reminded of the fact that you're a walking aphrodisiac. Kai picks you up to put you on his lap, not wasting time to have you watching the small waves of the water while riding his big cock. :')
This goes to show that Blueberry Boy Kai and Strawberry Shortcake you are a very fluffy couple. So sweet just like your names, but please PLEASE don't have Kai get too close to you or you will be split into two strawberries.
A nuisance,
TxT's Devil đ đ«
taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @incogrio, @biteyoubiteme
#txt devil#txt hard thoughts#txt hard hours#txt smut#txt x reader#txt x you#txt x y/n#txt thoughts#txt imagines#hueningkai imagines#huening kai smut#hueningkai smut#hueningkai x reader#hueningkai hard thoughts#hueningkai hard hours#hyuka hard hours#hyuka smut#hyuka x reader
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
Brighter Than The Sun || Kalim Al-Asim
Kalim shines like the sun, radiant and unwaveringâyet each day, he burns a little closer to the edge, waiting for the moment he no longer has to be the light for everyone else.
Kalim Al-Asim is the sun.
Golden and bright, the very picture of abundance. He is the warmth that spills into every crevice, the laughter that brightens any shadowed corner. To anyone who looks upon him, Kalim is all lightâglowing, inexhaustible.
He smiles, beaming as though he has never known a reason to frown. He is the friend who helps without question, the noble who offers wealth as casually as he breathes. Everything about him seems limitless, as if thereâs a wellspring of joy tucked beneath his ribs.
To the world, he is everything one could want. Money? He has enough that he could give it away a thousand times and never feel the weight of the loss. Status? He holds it effortlessly, carrying the Al-Asim legacy like a crown he was born to wear. Power? He stands at the top of his dorm, a place reserved for the most capable, a place so few could even dream to reach.
Yet when he is alone, under the quiet of his own thoughts, he wonders if this light truly belongs to him.
For he is the sun, yes, but only in appearance. And sometimes, when the crowd's noise fades, and he is left in the quiet of his own mind, he feels more like the moon.
A surface that reflects the light given to it, glowing not because it burns but because it must imitate what it cannot create. He looks at his life, and the brightness seems less a gift and more a performanceâa practiced gleam, like polished gold.
His wealth is not his own; it flows from a family name that stretches far beyond his own reach, his life inextricably intertwined with that legacy. He is a prince, a beloved heir, but also just a vessel for what the Al-Asim family has always been.
His title as housewardenâan honor, a symbol of his supposed strengthâfeels hollow, as if it is an illusion created by the weight of his familyâs donation, a stage set up for him to walk across without effort.
He knows his own weaknesses too well. The duties of his position are carried not by his hands, but by Jamilâs steady, unseen grasp, the support he feels but cannot acknowledge aloud. He walks through his life like a dream, all things handed to him so effortlessly that he can barely tell where his accomplishments end and Jamilâs sacrifices begin.
He smiles for the people who look to him with bright eyes, never revealing the doubt that tugs at his heart. Because if he reveals even a hint of insecurity, what might they see?
To the world, he is a radiant, boundless sun. But to himself, he is a vessel, filled with the reflected light of others.
He should not complain. How could he, when he has everything anyone could want? It is a life of luxury, endless opportunity, and privilege. To speak of weariness, of doubt, of feeling like a stranger in his own skinâthat would be a betrayal of all the riches he has been given.
So he keeps his smile intact, lets it grow even brighter to cover the places where he feels hollow. He becomes the perfect image of the Al-Asim heirâunfailing, generous, golden.
But with each person who takes a part of him, each smile he offers in place of the words he cannot say, he feels himself dim. It is a slow fading, like a candle burning down to its last flicker.
They come to him for his wealth, for his status, for the power that drapes him like a robe. They praise him, flatter him, but he wonders if any of it would remain if he was just Kalim.
So he smiles, and he smiles, because that is what the sun must do.
He smiles because that is what the Al-Asim heir has always done. And if he must dim a little, if he must give until there is nothing left, then so be it. Because he is the sun. Or at least, that is what the world needs him to be.
The announcement for the competition rings through the hallways like a spark, and within moments, it feels like Kalim is being surrounded. A food saleâa lighthearted, fun event meant to bring everyone together.
But the minute itâs announced, people begin to approach him, voices eager, faces alight with plans that all seem to look the same: âYou can bring in the best chefs, right?â âWith your budget, weâll be unstoppable!â âIf we work with you, victoryâs in the bag!â
They donât want to team up with him because itâll be fun. They want to team up because heâs a shortcut to winning. The money, the prestige, the pull he doesnât even remember asking forâthose are the things theyâre looking at, not him.
Itâs as if heâs transparent, just a vessel for everything he can provide, and suddenly the bright prospect of a competition meant for laughter and shared stories feels like a thin disguise for something much more hollow.
He puts on his best grin, the one that usually gets him through anything, and thinks of Jamil. But he knows before he even starts the trek that Jamil wonât accept his helpânot really.
He would take one step into Jamilâs space, and the same pattern would unfold: Jamilâs skill, his knowledge and sharp-eyed focus, would all have to fold back and take second place for Kalim. And Kalimâs heart would break a little more, watching Jamil slip back into that practiced shadow.
So he chooses someone at random. He watches his friend fade into the distance, unapproachable in the quiet corner heâd always known to seek, and feels himself both moving closer and losing him. Because if Jamil joins with someone else, maybe this time, heâll finally get the recognition heâs always deserved.
Then, suddenly, thereâs a voiceâa calm, grounded voice, an anchor that cuts through the whirlwind around him. âDo you want to team up?â
Kalim blinks, looking up. Itâs you, the one person he might have expected least, but it makes sense the more he thinks about it. Youâre the prefect, the magicless wonder who bent over backwards time and again for people you barely knew.
Heâs seen you take on challenges most people would run from; heâs seen you forge your own way in a world that wasnât made to be kind. Youâre⊠well, youâre what he imagines the sun to beâshining for everyone, regardless of how dark things might seem.
The memory slips back into his mind, hazy at first, like a half-forgotten dreamâbut then it sharpens, each detail painfully vivid. After Jamil's overblot, Kalim remembers standing on the edge of chaos, his mind spinning, his heart bruised. The realization of Jamilâs resentment had wrapped around his throat, each word, each look, echoing. And yet, he had smiled, grinned even, as he always didâbecause he had to.
It was then that you appeared beside him, quiet but determined, your gaze steady and warm as you asked, âAre you okay, Kalim?â
Heâd almost laughed it off. "Iâm fine! You should check on Jamil instead.â Jamil was the one who had suffered, after all, who had been weighed down by his own heavy feelings, dark enough to blot out everything else. But you shook your head, gently dismissing his words. âJamilâs in good hands. Right now, Iâm here to check on you.â
Your voice cut through the polished, automatic responses that came so easily to him, cracking them open to reveal the raw vulnerability underneath. He stood there, lost, the smile frozen on his face, as your words sank in. You werenât here because he was the housewarden or the Al-Asim heirâyou were here for him.
Before he could respond, you were called by Ace and Deuce, voices edged with worry and urgency. With a quick but genuine smile, you pressed your number into his hand, like a promise. âIf you need anything, just call me, okay?â
Then, before he could gather a single thought, you pulled him into a swift hug. It was brief, barely more than a whisper of warmth, but it was real. And as you turned and rushed back to the others, Kalim was left standing alone, clutching the scrap of paper like a lifeline.
It was the first time he felt truly seen.
And now here you are, looking right at him with that unmistakable twinkle in your eye, and asking him if he wants to team up with you.
For a moment, his heart jumps, then settles. How could he say no?
When you both sit down, Kalim immediately jumps into the plan he assumes you want to hearâhow heâll bring in a chef, or two, maybe even three to make sure everythingâs just right.
But the second he starts, you shut him down with a gentle shake of your head, laughing softly. âThis isnât about winning. This is about having fun with friends, remember? I didnât ask to team up so youâd hire people. I wanted to cook with you.â
Kalimâs heart skips. Youâre here⊠just for him?
Itâs a strange feeling, this warmth that wells up from deep within. His grin starts small, uncertain, then blooms into something true and wide, unfiltered and bright.
The kitchen becomes a small world for just the two of you, a place of flour clouds and flung sugar, and with each mistake, with each burnt attempt at a dish, you both dissolve into helpless laughter.
What starts as a noble, if catastrophic, attempt to cook quickly devolves into pure chaos, until thereâs more flour on your faces than in the mixing bowl and neither of you can remember what you were even trying to make.
For once, he doesnât feel the need to give, or to prove. Here with you, heâs simply Kalimâthe boy with flour smudged across his cheek and laughter that keeps bubbling up before he can stop it.
When the competition ends, you both stand proudly beside a dish that looks nothing short of monstrous. The judges hesitate, then take a tentative bite and promptly grimace. Kalim hears you giggling beside him, your shoulders shaking as you take in the judgeâs expression, and he canât help but join you. Itâs a sound that fills the space between you, something unpracticed and utterly genuine.
For a moment, he looks at you, your face still bright with laughter, your eyes shining like starlight, and a thought settles into him, quiet but strong.
Maybe⊠maybe heâd be happy being your moon.
Because youâre the sun in all the ways that he could never be. You light the way without needing anything from him. And for once, he feels no need to push it down and smile, because it feels natural.
It happens often enough that Kalim doesnât flinch anymore. Heâs used to it, really. Requests come at him like a tidal wave, sweeping through with unrelenting regularity. Itâs as if everyone expects him to be their endless source, their personal sunâwarm, bright, unyielding in generosity, always giving without pause. A smile that never fades, a light that never dims.
Today, itâs a classmate from another dorm, sidling up with that gleam in their eye, that small, calculated smile. âKalim,â they say, smooth and honeyed, âI could use a little help.â And itâs money they want; of course itâs money. They donât ask how heâs doing, or if he might need something in return. The sun does not need favors; it simply shines.
Without hesitation, Kalimâs lips curve into that familiar, reflexive smile. âOf course! How much do youââ
But before he can finish, thereâs a shiftâa hand on his arm, warm and grounding, and then thereâs you, stepping in. You stand firm, gaze unwavering as you look at the person with something fierce, a protective spark in your eyes heâs not accustomed to seeing directed at him.
âNo,â you say, voice strong, clear. âHe wonât be giving you any money today.â
Kalim stares, momentarily stunned, as the person falters, their confidence waning under your unyielding gaze. They stammer, offering excuses, their polished smile slipping away, and Kalim realizes, slowly, that youâve dismissed them entirely. Just like that, they slink off, and it feels as though youâve thrown up a wall between him and the world, shielding him from the hands that are always outstretched, from the shadows eager to siphon his light.
For a heartbeat, Kalim almost laughs it off. Itâs what he always does, isnât it? His warmth is endless; heâs the sun, and if they want to take a little here and there, thatâs fine. But as he opens his mouth to brush it away, your gaze catches hisâa fierceness still burning there, softer now but just as fierce.
âItâs okay,â he murmurs, voice faltering, a practiced line that feels hollow now. âI donât mind. I have enough.â
But youâre shaking your head, brows furrowed. âItâs not about having enough, Kalim. Itâs about people thinking they can take advantage of you, people who see your kindness and assume itâs endless. Iâm not going to let that happenânot while Iâm here.â
Your words are firm, soft but unbreakable, and they slip past his practiced defenses, breaking through the polished brightness heâs wrapped around himself for so long. Heâs heard people defend him beforeâduty, necessity, loyalty.
But this⊠this is different. Youâre not protecting him out of obligation or his family name; youâre protecting him because you see himâthe cracks beneath the shine, the exhaustion hidden behind the smile heâs worn for so long.
Itâs strange, this feeling. Itâs warmth, but not the warmth he gives. Itâs something softer, gentler, a warmth that reaches out to cradle rather than to demand. And Kalim realizes that you arenât here to take; youâre here to give.
It feels as if somethingâs settling in his chest, filling spaces heâs ignored. A sun isnât supposed to dim, isnât supposed to falter, but right now, he feels the smallest, most fragile sense of relief, of finally allowing himself to be seen.
For a moment, he stands there, vulnerable in a way he rarely allows himself to be, letting the feeling settle into the empty corners of his heart.
Heâs always been the one giving, radiating, shining for others, but right now, with you, he feels⊠cared for. Cherished, even. And for the first time, he wonders if itâs possible to let himself be dim, even for just a moment, to let himself be a little less bright.
When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, shaky. âThank you,â he says, and the words feel like a fragile confession, a quiet plea that maybe he doesnât have to be everyoneâs light alone.
And you smile at him, not as someone who needs, but as someone who gives, and Kalim realizes maybe he doesnât have to carry on being the sun on his own.
The room feels too large, the air too thick. The housewardensâ meeting has reached a stalemate, and all eyes are on himâthe sun who canât afford to waver, the one they all seem to look to now, expectant.
Itâs suffocating, the way their gazes settle, heavy as if they could burn through his skin. He knows theyâre waiting for a decision, the final word to tip the scales. But Kalim doesnât know what to say.
He opens his mouth, then closes it, the words tangling in his throat. The others are smart, strategic, relentless in their arguments, and he⊠he just wants to make the choice that wonât ruin everything.
The room is a whirl of voices and opinions, and he feels small under the weight of it. He doesnât know what the right answer is, but Jamil would. Jamil always knows.
So he tries to voice it, a faint smile surfacing like a reflex. âMaybe I could just⊠ask Jamil,â he says, a bit too quickly, fingers reaching for his phone. âHeâs smarter than me, you know? Heâll know what to do.â
But before he can call, a hand finds his, warm and grounding, and itâs you, giving him a look thatâs gentle yet firm, one that stops him in his tracks. âKalim,â you say, softly but with a certainty that doesnât let him look away, âwhat do you think?â
The words settle into the room, silencing the murmur of voices, and suddenly, itâs just you and him, and that question hanging between you. Itâs simple, yet it strikes at something deep, something unsteady inside him. No one has asked him like that beforeânot with such unwavering faith, not like they actually want his opinion.
He stumbles over his thoughts, searching for an answer in the corners of his mind. A nervous chuckle bubbles up as he tries to brush it off. âAh, I mean, I donât know if I⊠I mean, Jamilâs really good at this stuff, he always knows the rightââ
But you donât let him retreat. Your gaze is steady, unwavering. âYouâre the housewarden, Kalim,â you remind him. âThis decision is yours. And beyond that, I trust your judgment. Whatever choice you make, I believe in it. I believe in you.â
And just like that, something cracks open in him, a warmth heâs not used to directed at him, not in this way. Heâs the sun, but the world has always taken that light from him, never cared for the doubts and cracks beneath it.
Heâs always been everyoneâs brightness, a mirror reflecting what they needed to see, but no one has ever looked past the shine to find what lies underneathâuntil now.
Thereâs a rawness to it, a gentleness that makes his heart stutter. To think that you⊠you believe in him, without question, without needing him to hide behind Jamil or his familyâs influence.
Itâs as if, for the first time, heâs seen for more than just his blinding, relentless cheer. And he realizes he doesnât have to dim himself here; he doesnât have to be anyone but himself.
His heart swells, and he finds himself grinning, wide and genuine, a real smile that breaks free from the polished restraint heâs so often worn. He makes his choice then, and heâs almost surprised by the ease of it, the clarity in his own voice as he casts his vote.
The meeting wraps up, and as the others disperse, he turns to you, his eyes bright with a newfound light. âYou really mean it, donât you?â he asks, almost breathless with disbelief. âYou really think I can⊠handle this?â
You nod, and the quiet sincerity in your gaze tells him everything heâs ever wanted to hear.
Heâs buzzing with excitement now, a warmth in his chest that radiates outward, too bright to contain. âWe should celebrate!â he exclaims, a bit too loud, the joy spilling over, âOh! We could throw a party! Iâll get the best decorationsâoh, maybe fireworks! Or music, live music, yeah!â
He goes on, the plans growing more extravagant with every breath, each word a piece of his true self spilling over, no longer held back. But then you reach out, grounding him again, slipping your hand into his. Itâs a small gesture, but it holds the weight of something steady, something real.
He looks down, meeting your gaze, and he feels himself settle, his grin softening as he squeezes your hand in return. Itâs a connection that doesnât need words, a promise that he doesnât have to be the sun alone, that he doesnât have to bear its weight for everyone else. With you here, he feels whole, bright in a way that isnât lonely or draining.
And for the first time, Kalim lets himself bask in his own light, just as he is.
The night presses down, dense and endless, smothering like velvet too heavy to breathe through. Kalimâs room is dark, his bed sprawling, sheets cool and smooth and empty.
He lies there, eyes wide open, and the silence around him is too thick, his mind too loud. Thoughts spiral, each more bitter than the last. The emptiness gnaws at him, whispers that scratch at his heart, telling him that heâs aloneâthat heâll always be alone.
They all come to him because heâs the Al-Asim heir, the boy with endless coin and golden connections. No one really wants to know you, his thoughts hiss, cruel in the stillness. They just want what you can give. Even his friends, the laughter and cheers that surround him during the day, feel hollow when night falls and heâs alone with himself.
And then thereâs you⊠you, whoâve looked at him like heâs more than just a title, more than just a shimmering surface. But his heart trembles, fear threading through his veins. What if, someday, even you see past his brightness and turn away? What if you realize heâs not what you want, not who you deserve?
The thought digs deep, enough to make his chest tighten. And before he knows it, his fingers are reaching for his phone, trembling as he finds your contact, the screen casting a soft glow in the darkness. His finger hovers over the call button, his mind screaming not to, to let you sleep, but his heartâpanicked, needyâwins out.
He taps the screen, the line ringing just once, then twice. But dread fills him, heavy and sudden, and before you can pick up, he hangs up, tossing the phone aside like itâs burned him.
The room is darker now, the silence sharper, and his heart beats loud, a hollow echo. What was I thinking? He tries to laugh it off, as though his thoughts arenât tightening around him. But then his phone vibrates, the screen flashing with your name.
He swallows, unable to answer, shame and fear tangled up, so he lets it go to voicemail. Then the screen lights up again, and again, until finally, after his third silence, the calls stop.
The quiet returns, heavier than before, and heâs about to close his eyes, to pretend he never did anything so foolish, when thereâs a knock. Itâs soft at first, hesitant, then insistent, each knock pounding through the empty space in his chest.
He doesnât dare breathe as he drags himself out of bed, opening the door only to find you there, looking up at him with wild, frantic eyes, like youâve just run miles to reach him.
âKalim,â you gasp, barely catching your breath, and heâs so stunned he almost doesnât notice the tear tracks glistening on your cheeks. You reach for him, hands shaking, and in an instant, your arms are around him, pulling him close, clinging to him like he might disappear if you let go. âYou scared me! You really⊠I thoughtââ Your voice breaks, thick with worry, and your grip tightens, trembling as though youâre afraid heâll slip from your hold.
Heâs frozen, the weight of your embrace pressing into him, disbelief rippling through him. âIâIâm sorry,â he stammers, trying to laugh it off, to brush away the panic in his chest. âIt was⊠it was just an accident! I didnât mean to wake youââ
But you pull back just enough to look him in the eyes, your gaze sharp with the weight of a thousand unspoken worries. âDonât you dare do that to me again,â you say, your voice firm, fierce in a way heâs never heard before. âIf you need me, call me. Really call me. Donât just⊠donât leave me hanging, donât make me wonder. I was terrified, Kalim.â
And before he can even answer, you wrap your arms around him again, burying your face in his shoulder as you hold him close. Itâs grounding, the warmth of you pressed against him, anchoring him in a way that silences the dark thoughts spiraling through his mind.
He can feel your heart racing, hear the quiet sniffles as you clutch him tighter, and itâs like all the loneliness, all the fear, all the doubts fade into the background. Because youâre here, and you came all this way just for him.
âCome on,â you say after a long moment, pulling away just enough to flash him a faint, determined smile. âScooch over. Weâre having a sleepover. Youâre not getting rid of me that easily.â
He blinks, watching in wonder as you make your way to his bed, throwing back the covers and settling in as if itâs the most natural thing in the world. He can only stand there for a moment, stunned, before he finds himself crawling into bed beside you.
Heâs never had someone sit with him like this, just to be there, and a strange warmth fills his chest, unlike anything heâs felt before.
You donât ask him why he called or why he hung up, and he doesnât need to explain. Youâre here, stretching out beside him, your presence a steady warmth that keeps the shadows at bay.
When you reach over to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, itâs like a promise, an unspoken vow that no matter how dark the night feels, youâll be here to pull him back into the light.
And as he lies there, hand in yours, he realizes he doesnât need to fear losing you. For the first time, he feels truly seen, like you understand every part of himâthe bright, blinding sun he tries to be, and the quieter, flickering light beneath. He squeezes your hand back, his heart lighter, his smile real.
Kalim has known for a while now, though he tried to convince himself otherwise. But no amount of blinding sunlight, no amount of laughter can hide the truth beating loud and insistent in his chest. Heâs fallen for you, deeply, hopelessly, and itâs nothing like heâd imagined.
Not grand or regal or even serene. No, itâs messy, overflowing, spilling out like the cups of tea he clumsily pours, like the stories he rambles through whenever youâre nearby. You make him feel like he doesnât need to wear that bright, polished sun mask that everyone expects from him.
But how can he possibly tell you? In his mind, the moment plays out with magic carpets soaring through the stars, firelight flickering against golden sands, his heart laid bare in the most dazzling of confessions.
Yet here he is, standing with you in the middle of a bustling market, your hand gripping his as you pull him from stall to stall, eyes bright with excitement as you chatter on about matching trinkets, laughter bubbling up as you try on silly hats and drape fabrics over each otherâs shoulders.
Heâs surrounded by the scents of spices, the hum of people, the rough cobblestones beneath his feetâand suddenly, the words slip out, too big to be contained. âI love you.â
Itâs out before he can stop himself, hanging there in the air between you, fragile and exposed. There are no magic carpets, no glittering jewels or ancient spellsâjust the clamor of the marketplace and your stunned expression.
For a split second, he panics, his heart dropping as he watches you go still, your laughter fading into silence. What did I just do? he wonders, dread pooling in his stomach.
Before he can backtrack, you grab his hand and tug him away, weaving through the bustling crowd with a determined pace. He follows without a word, his heart thudding painfully, a thousand worries flashing through his mind. Are you mad? Are you disappointed? The walk back feels endless, every step dragging out his dread as he watches your profile, desperately wishing he could read your mind.
When you reach your room, you shut the door and turn to face him, eyes steady and piercing. âSay that again,â you demand, soft but firm, voice almost a whisper.
He swallows, nerves tangling in his throat, but he canât hide now, not when youâre looking at him like that. âI love you,â he says, voice trembling but true. And before he can get another word out, your hands are cupping his face, and youâre pressing your lips to his in a kiss thatâs fierce and sweet, leaving him breathless.
When you pull back, he stares at you, wide-eyed, his mind still reeling. âButââ he stammers, âIt wasnât grand, it wasnâtâŠâ He trails off, words slipping through his fingers, his heart heavy with the thought that heâs somehow let you down.
You silence him with another kiss, your hands gentle on his cheeks. When you pull away, you hold him there, your gaze warm and unyielding. âI donât need grand, Kalim. I donât want fireworks, or magic carpets, or anything the Al-Asim heir thinks heâs supposed to offer. I love you. Not housewarden Kalim, not the heir⊠Just Kalim. The one who follows me through crowded markets, the one who hums while he braids my hair, the one who laughs so brightly it could heal the world.â
Your fingers trace along his jaw, and the sincerity in your eyes takes his breath away. âYou donât need to be the sun for me. You donât need to burn yourself out for people who donât care. Youâre enough as you are. Youâre my Kalim, and Iâm yours.â
And as you smile at him, soft and true, he feels his heart swell, the insecurities falling away. Your words wrap around him, gentle as a cloak, quieting every fear and doubt heâs held onto. Itâs more than he ever thought he could have, more than he ever thought heâd deserve.
The smile that blooms on his face, radiant and unrestrained, is real.
Because in this moment, with you by his side, he shines brighter than the sun.
Masterlist
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#twisted wonderland#kalim x reader#kalim al asim x reader#twst kalim#kalim#kalim al asim#kalim al-asim x reader#kalim al-asim
107 notes
·
View notes
Text
put me in, coach
âË áą itoshi rin x fem! reader.
‷ you were given one last chance in the industry.
with a sharp inhale, you choked up a sob, biting down on the bottom of your lip as you lay on the ground, helplessly waiting for a medic to pick you up. your cheeks were burning with a mixture of humiliation and frustration. on the ground like a helpless damsel, you were waiting to be saved by someone. you were holding onto the fake grass with enough force to rip the tarp below. sweat and drool dripped down your chin as you shivered. eyes staring up at the clear clouds as you trembled. your lungs started to hurt every time you breathed and you swore you had the wind knocked out of you.Â
squeezing your leg muscle with one hand, you restrained seething tears. looking up at your opponent, you were left wide-eyed as they stood above you, the sun shining down on their figure as they smiled slowly, their pupils collapsing in on themselves like a spiral wishing well. they watched gleefully as you were carried away on a stretcher.Â
after making it past the dark tunnels and into a private room, you finally let yourself cry for the first time in years. an unfortunate mishap that caused you not only the world cup but your pride. you held your face in your hands, covering it from the blinding lights from what you assume to be the inside of an ambulance.
â WORLD-CLASS ATHLETE (NAME) TEARS THEIR ACL: IS THIS THE END OF HER SOCCER CAREER?
âł retrogamer129: no way, this might be the end of (name)âs career
âł fuumuni: did you guys see the way the other team sabotaged her? so fucked up
âł (name)fangirl101: they need to be held responsible, if you look back on the clips, you can see they had no remorse for what they did
âł cherrybomb_249: it looked like it could have been an accident. donât point fingers and ruin someone elseâs soccer career over a mistake
that was a year ago.Â
after you tore your acl, you werenât able to go back on the field as you used to. because of your absence, your team couldnât make it to the world cup. they lost a crucial part of their team and with your career hanging on a balance, the club you were once in had to disband. it was a cruel fate for any athlete.Â
everyone hears stories about peopleâs dreams getting cut short. and not a single person wants to be in that story, including you.
tucking in your legs slightly, you wrap your arms around your muscles. pressing your forehead against your knees, you think about the events that led up to this moment. when you were younger, you would play a lot of soccer with itoshi sae, a close friend of yours. he had this light, red-bean-colored hair with his bangs pulled back, exposing his permanent scowl. he was a good player. taught you a few tricks that led to you getting into a fancy soccer club.Â
he had a rowdy little brother that seemed to always look up to you. when he wasnât playing with his dinosaur toys, he would be at your practices, watching you kick the ball into the goal. your friends used to think he admired you on the same level he did for sae. after all, heâd always tug on your hand whenever you bought him popsicles, insisting that you share with him (a rare feat his mother once told you, rin doesnât like to share).
he and sae shared a lot of similarities. whether it be the scowl on his face or the way they both liked those cheap blue popsicles from the convenience store, they were bound by more than just blood. they had a lot of talent riding on them.Â
when you left to go study abroad, you were a little sad to see a tiny rin wave to you at the airport. it was pretty obvious he was holding back tears. you were the first in his little circle to leave japan. the second would be his older brother sae, who followed closely behind you, insisting that there would be better players out in the world.Â
unlike sae however, you would frequently keep up with rin on the phone. calling him once in a while, checking up on his studies and watching recorded videos of his games, it felt like things hadnât changed. you knew in your heart that the two itoshi brothers had something special within them, something so odd it kept you on your toes, expecting something spectacular.Â
when you left japan, you met another oddball: a tall, lanky man who loved nothing but soccer. he was your coach leading up to the world cup. you figure that if he could be anything in the world, he would want to be the best striker in the entire universe (and beyond, if aliens and other extraterrial life existed).Â
you were only able to play a few games with him while he was training you. however, in that short amount of time, you learned more than you ever could. from small quips here and there about a personâs talent and ego, as well as the brutal reality that is over exhausting yourself, he was one of the best coaches you had to this day. on short trips, you would begin to piece together things about him. from the foods he wanted to eat, to his biggest dream, he was certainly a character. even more so when his parents named him after a very unique word: ego. and ego was something he never lacked in.
so when a mysterious letter shows up at your doorstep, you were sure that it was something related to him.Â
âŠ
âplease welcome my former student and previous runner-up for the world cup: (name) (last name).â
walking through the dramatic double-sliding doors, you push back your bangs, tilting your head off to the side as you observe the large room. instead of wearing the typical blue-lock, skin-tight uniform, the boys were provided with, you were thankfully given something more comfortable and lax. the only requirement you had was to keep your lanyard on it at all times, as your id card was the only way you could access most of the doors.Â
âtheyâll be training and determining whether or not youâll make it to the next selection. if you play less than satisfactory, you can kiss your soccer dreams goodbye,â ego claps his hands together, treating them more like dogs than people, âfor this small buffer period, youâll be playing against each other using your current team.âÂ
âwhy is a girl teaching us? couldnât you have gotten someone from the menâs world cup?âÂ
âisnât she injured still?âÂ
ego hums, cracking his neck as he pulls it to the side, âwhy does it matter? she was my student. a good one too. even with her leg, sheâll still make a valuable coach. itâd be a waste to let that level of talent slip by and rot.âÂ
swallowing your nervousness, he continues, âwhen you get older, youâll start to understand.âÂ
with that, ego turns his body around, straightening his back as he walks through the double doors. you suppose thatâs all he has to say about you. he surprisingly said nice things. when you were training with him, you could only remember how blunt and disconnected his words were. to think he had a bit of a nice side made you a little unnerved.Â
though, not as much as the overwhelmingly cold stare you felt.
a shiver runs down your spine. rotating your body in the direction of danger, you see rin in the crowd, standing with a firm yet disappointed expression. whether or not it was directed towards you remains a mystery. you cowardly avoid his gaze, unsure if you even want to see him right now.
or perhaps the better choice of words is: you donât want him to see you.Â
when you left for the world cup, you promised him that you would return with something to show. to come back to japan with nothing meant you failed in more ways than one. not only did you let your team, club, and country down, you had shattered the promise you had given to rin several years ago. at the very least, sae had something to show, but for you? there was nothing. all you had was the legacy you left behind for the next person to take up. a stepping stone for someone elseâs ambition.
now the boy you used to share popsicles with was growing far out of your reach. not only was he a lot taller and leaner, he was getting better at an alarming rate. and with him at blue lock, it was almost certain youâd see his name show up in the u-20 match that ego had promised.Â
youâre starting to feel pressure rising to your ears. it feels like water getting tunneled through your ear canals, deafening any sort of noise that flies past you. if it was anyone else, would they have fallen this low? or was it destined just for you? everything was starting to feel dizzy at this point.
squeezing your eyes shut, you quickly follow behind egoâs footsteps, dragging yourself out of the field as a familiar pair of turquoise eyes harden on your retreating figure.
âŠ
âthis is a lot harder than i thought.â as the day comes to an end, some of the boys at blue lock are finally settling into their rooms. gathering around at the edges of their bed, they sat up with a sigh of relief, finally free from the training they call hell (for now, of course.)
most of them thought that training would be as easy as any other task. however, they underestimated blue lock again. instead of a standardized test like shooting goals, every person had a different task and weakness they needed to work on. for example, reo needed help to hone his technique, nagi had to work on his stamina, and isagi had a full-body workout to perfect his direct shots. everyone else was in the same boat, having been worked to their bones.
chigiri falls back onto his soft, comfortable mattress, too tired to even brush out the knots in his hair. âsheâs really strict. i had to do 30 laps around the field before i could even shoot a goal.âÂ
âi would have never expected her to be so strict.â isagi comments, âi knew she was good but this is on another level. it feels like she can see right through us. i have to admit, my muscles are feeling prepped and ready for our next match.âÂ
âonly you would think about it so positively,â these were nagiâs last words before he closes his eyes, falling asleep immediately like a light switch.
isagi scratches the back of his neck, âthis might be the hardest test so far. it doesnât look like rin isnât having it any easier.âÂ
at the mention of his name, the rest of the room groans in unison. in the other room, there were two people left on the pitch.Â
raising his right leg, rin kicks the ball with as much spin and force as he can. watching as it soars through the air and curves to the top left of the goal, it collides with the net with a satisfying sound. raising his eyebrow, he quickly looks over at your direction, seeing you crouched down with an unamused expression. this reaction causes him to deflate slightly.
âagain.â
hitting the ball once more, it spins with the same amount of curve but with more power. the force from his kick nearly knocked over the goal entirely. even though it was better than his previous shot, there was no denying the cold, slick sound of your voice cutting through the air like butter.
âagain.âÂ
same with the third time, you continue to ask him for the same kick over, and over again. and while heâs all for long training sessions in soccer, this was getting ridiculous even for him. for once, heâs feeling the burn in his legs and the tickling sensation on the tip of his tongue. bending over slightly, he wipes away the small trickle of drool that escapes his lips.Â
âwhy am i doing the same thing? we should be moving onto something else.â
âbecause itâs not good enough.â you reply, tapping your fingers on a small screen, âwith a kick like that, itâs difficult for it to be properly reproduced. your accuracy is slightly off at times and the power you put in is fluctuating.âÂ
standing up from your position, you brush the dirt off your knees, âi think we have to move onto doing laps.âÂ
âno.âÂ
âhuh?â
âi can make the next shot.âÂ
âi said,â stepping forward, you press a finger to his chest, âto do another lap.âÂ
his gaze sharpens to a pinpoint. wiping away the bead of sweat on his temple, he huffs. slapping your hand away, he stands before you, unwavering in his form. only now can you see how much taller he was compared to you. he was towering over you at this point, looming with a force that was weighing you down. wrapping your fingers around your tablet, you try to straighten your back, exhaling with nervousness.Â
âwhat is it?âÂ
with him being so close to you, he can see the way your eyes have aged over time. they no longer held the same light he grew up seeing. the fiery passion that once ignited your soul has now died into a small, handheld flame he could smother in an instant. things have changed drastically since he last saw you at the airport.Â
are you going to come home soon? when is the next time iâll see you? rin asked, holding onto his older brotherâs hand. although it must have been at least 5 years since he said those words, he could still taste the sweet and bitter chocolate croissant you bought for him. hit was early in the morning when you were about to board the next flight. alongside your mother and father, his family was accompanying you to the airport, ready to say their final goodbyes.Â
only when i win the world cup! you replied, throwing up a confident peace sign in his direction, when i come back, we can play as much as you want, okay?
you promise?
yup! popping the p, you turned around and waved, grinning for what felt to be the last time.
instead of coming home with the smile he always dreamt of, you returned timid and afraid. after losing the world cup to another team, you had lost everything. from trophies to any victory you had before, it was gone in an instant. in one, final⊠crushing blow to the knee. he had always hoped it wouldnât be you on the stretcher. now that itâs been an entire year, the truth remains the same.
âsince when did you look this pathetic?â he brushes you aside, drawing a breath between his lips, âyou used to be the best player, right next to sae,â you can hear him grit his teeth at the slightest mention of him, âand now youâre playing coach to a bunch of children.â
âwhat?â
âyou heard me. youâre wasting your time here.â rin reaches out to one of the soccer balls on the ground, rolling it against the tip of his foot. you stand off to the side, unable to form a coherent sentence to rebut him.Â
âwhat happened to you that day?â
you only remember the painful ride to the hospital. a cramped ambulance with five paramedics on the scene pushing down on your muscles. so when rin asks you about the events that led to this moment, your lips grow dry and chapped.Â
â POSSIBLE SABOTAGE FROM ITALY? (NAME)âS TORN ACL CAUSES TROUBLE FOR HER TEAM
âł numba1soccerfan10: (name) was totally robbed at the last play
âł jurassic_lover: nah i think she got skill diffâd, she wasnât all that good anyway
âł gojoisthebest03857: are you crazy?? did we even watch the same game
â TOP TEN WORST ATHLETE INJURIES OF ALL TIME
âł furumuni: thatâs so fucked up, (name) just got injured and there's already a youtube video about it.
âł silent_ninja: all these clips are insane to watch
â (NAME)âS RETIREMENT? WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO THE NEXT UPCOMING STRIKER?
âł (name)fangirl101: sheâll bounce back, she has to
âł [deleted]: this is some serious copeÂ
â ANOTHER UNFORTUNATE CASE OF A TORN ACL: (NAME)âS CAREER HANGS ON A BALANCE, WILL SHE RECOVER?
âł JBlue: if she can recover, itâll be a miracle.
âshut up,â you say, standing your ground as the world around you begins to spin.Â
the plain white walls of the facility bleed into your vision. it melts alongside the memories of being subjected to the long ambulance ride to the hospital. a blinding light that never leaves you. everything comes apart so easily when youâre reminded of that awful ride to hell.
âjust face it, youâre lukewarm.âÂ
before rin can make any other comments, a ball collides with his nose head-on. he falls to the ground in shock. eyes blown wide as he looks up at your heaving figure. your breaths were becoming sporadic and difficult to control. everything around you looked like it was contorting. from the blue and black uniforms to the redness in rinâs cheek, life itself was beginning to morph into a terrifying sludge. yet despite this, the black and white color of the soccer ball was impossible to miss.Â
it was the only thing you could see.Â
so when you slammed that ball towards rin using your non-dominant foot, it wasnât because of malice. you didnât hate him for the words he was saying. to an extent, they were true. but there was something about this sport that made you keep going, a drive that has you up in its arms.Â
that kick was love. it was love for a sport that has flown too far out of your reach.Â
with this chance at blue lock being your last chance at staying within this exclusive world, you were determined to stay within its reach.Â
âiâm the last person you should be calling lukewarm.âÂ
â (NAME)âS RETURN TO THE SCENE AS BLUE LOCKâS NEXT COACH
#âË áą ruruumin#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#bllk rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#itoshi rin x reader#rin x reader
83 notes
·
View notes
Note
I have an idea that has been in my head for a while. Kakavasha met the child reader because of his father and the reader's father and they became friends from kindergarten and their friendship continued into high school but Kakavasha/Aventurine had a kind of feeling with the reader since they were children, this feeling has increased until he confesses to the reader on a snowy winter night.(I know I wrote a lot)
On a snowy day
Summary: Kakavasha and you have been childhood friends, your bond deepening over the years. On a snowy winter night, Kakavasha finally confesses his love, revealing feelings he's held since you two were kids.
Tags: Kakavasha x Reader, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Confession, Winter Setting, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn.
A/N: âčïžMY BABY KAKAVASHA!!!
It was a quiet winter night, and the snow blanketed everything in a soft white, muffling the world into silence. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself, your breath visible in the cold air. A gentle snow had started to fall, adding a fresh layer to the already glistening streets. Kakavasha stood beside you, gazing up at the sky with a distant expression, his usual playful demeanor softened.
You had known him for as long as you could remember, through scraped knees in kindergarten, whispered secrets, and dreams shared late at night during sleepovers. Kakavasha had always been there, like a constant you could rely onâa friend, yes, but something more had started to linger between you, subtle yet unmissable. Tonight, under the glow of streetlamps and surrounded by the peaceful silence of falling snow, that feeling seemed almost tangible.
Kakavasha's eyes caught the light as he looked at you, his gaze unusually intense. He didnât hide behind his characteristic charm or casual smile; instead, he looked at you with a rare vulnerability, something he had always kept hidden. He took a breath, hesitating, as if he were searching for the right words.
"I... Iâve been wanting to tell you something for a while," he began, his voice quieter than usual, softened by an emotion you hadnât seen in him before. "It feels like itâs been there forever, growing with every year we spent together, every moment we shared." He looked down, almost as if embarrassed, then met your gaze again, his expression more serious than youâd ever seen it.
"When we were kids, I didnât quite understand it, but I felt something. This feelingâthis... connection. And over time, it only got stronger. I tried to ignore it, push it down, telling myself it was just because you were my best friend, but..." He took a step closer, his hand reaching for yours, his fingers warm despite the chill in the air.
"I donât want to keep it hidden anymore. I donât want to pretend itâs something it isnât." He paused, his voice a soft whisper as he continued. "Iâm in love with you. I have been for as long as I can remember."
The words hung between you, delicate and vulnerable, yet filled with an undeniable weight. He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of how you might feel. In that moment, the world seemed to stop, leaving just the two of you standing in the quiet snowfall.
A smile crept onto your face, small but genuine. The feelings you had kept hidden all this time, the little moments of longing and unspoken thoughts, all seemed to align, leading to this one perfect moment. You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, and gently squeezed his hand, answering him without words.
Kakavashaâs face softened as he understood, a rare and genuine smile breaking through. Together, under the softly falling snow, you stood with him, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours, sharing a silent promise of all that was yet to come.
THIS IS SO SHORTTT!!! đ BUT I COULDN'T COME UP WITH ANYTHING ELSE I'M SORRY!!!
#hsr#honkai star rail#x reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#hsr aventurine#aventurine x reader#aventurine x you#hsr aventurine x reader#kakavasha hsr#hsr kakavasha#kakavasha x reader#kakavasha#childhood friends to lovers#fluff#winter setting#mutual pining#confession#slow burn
71 notes
·
View notes
Text
ⶠâ CARD DECLINED!
âyou'll be alright,â the donut lover, riwoo, chimed. he looks over to his pouty friend with a sigh, his hands opening the cafe doors as the bells rang under them.Â
âmaybe I'll feel even better if I got some free food,â taesan squinted his eyes at his âfriendâ, his arms crossing like he was a 3 year old baby being denied candy.Â
unfazed, riwoo heads to the employee room before snapping his head back to taesan, giving him a glare. âjust sit down until I'm done with my shift, and don't mess with anything!â before taesan could respond, riwoo closes the door, the boy groaning when he sees the employee putting on his apron and going about his day.
technically, taesan didn't have to sit down. he could have got on top of the tables and started singing like he was a character from lemonade mouth, or he could have ran out to the street and jumped on top of a car or something. so many intrusive thoughts.. yet his feet pull him to the line of customers beside him, his eyes glancing at the small booths near the windows to his phone. he sighs again, today is going to be so boring.
âŠ
âseems like your card isn't working, ma'am. do you have any other way to pay?â
âuh-â
âoh, I got it,â taesan is pulled from his phone when he hears the polite voice of the cashier. when he reaches over to swipe his card in the machine, he hears a soft gasp of shock, his lips unknowingly turning into a small smile. strangely, that made him feel pretty good, donating to the poor. well, maybe they weren't poor.. or maybe they were⊠who cares?! anyways.
âthank you so much,â he hears the customer beside him gush, clearly taken by surprise by the teenager's kind actions. just as taesan was about to tell the individual âyouâre welcomeâ, he turns his head to lock eyes with the person and freezes.
It's.. it's.. her?! taesan almost has to pick up his jaw from the ground once he realizes who was in front of him. it was y/n, who he thought was the prettiest girl in the world. and someone who was way out of his league.
for starters, y/n was known for her warm persona, a smile always fixated on her lips as she helps the ones she loves. taesan, on the other hand, was quiet with a side of emo, headphones always on top of his head as he's always in his own world of music and homework. two completely different personalities, yet he still finds himself drawn to her, where he enters his loser boy crush era. it's pathetic, he knows, his friends are sure to tell him all the time.
âis there any way i can pay you back?â her soft voice brings him back from his thoughts, his words stuck in his throat when he sees her puppy eyes. god, why is she so cute?
ⶠâoh, no it's okay,â taesan manages to muster out, the back of his neck burning red as his hands run through his hair, âi was just doing it for the aura points anyways.â
âthe what?â y/n tilts her head in confusion, looking at the boy like he just lost his head. â¶Â
panicking on the inside, he feels a harsh tug at his collar, looking over to see his shorter friend pulling him away from the crime scene. thank god! taesan felt as if he was going to die standing there for another second.
after her card declined, y/n swore she met an angel who decided to pay for her food out of the goodness of his heart. taesan, the angel, never thought he would see his crush face to face. would he use this chance to finally talk to her after long years of pining?
[chapter one] previous â next
â¶Â winning option, option b
option a's results: if this option won, taesan would still be in a daze before he would be pulled away by riwoo
option b's results: if this option won, taesan would say something embarrassing to y/n, before being pulled away by riwoo
âą taglist : @peterm4rker , @twelveuselesshyungs , @fry1ngpanman , @ihruaz , @slytherinshua ,
@luvnicho , @cherrycolaberry , @love-4-keum , @miyawwn , @bee-the-loser ,
@kazemiya , @starfallia , @sa3ha , @jmclouds , @rain-starss ,
@tkooooop , @fgumi , @nujeskz , @prettyange1 , @en-dream fill out form to be added!!
#yuvie 1k!#boynextdoor scenarios#boynextdoor fluff#boynextdoor imagines#boynextdoor#boynextdoor x reader#boynextdoor reactions#bnd headcanons#bnd fanfic#bnd imagines#bnd fluff#bnd scenarios#bnd x reader#bonedo x reader#bonedo#taesan bnd#boynextdoor taesan#taesan x reader#taesan#han taesan#jaehyun x reader#sungho x reader#riwoo x reader#leehan x reader#woonhak x reader
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
A lot of people have pointed out this might be foreshadowing for future cross guild lineup. Seems like the theme here is âpeople with crushed dreams/people who grew stagnant rediscover their dreams once againâ
Crocodile and Moria are classic examples for people with crushed dreams. Crocodile had somewhat rediscovered his dream in Marineford, but judging from the newest chapter he still hasnât abandoned his old Utopia plan (lame)
Buggy gave up on his dream 20 years ago, and just now regained it and said it out loud while also calling Crocodile and Mihawkâs way of doing things lame (goated)
Mihawk is still unclear, but one clear thing is he used to be way more of a threat than he is now. Who was once called Marine hunter is now basically a perpetually bored grandpa who just wants to a quiet place to drink and sleep -> He grew stagnant
Doflamingo, despite being active in the underworld and keep saying shit about the new era, doesnât really do anything to change it -> which is why Law rubbed it in his face with the âI broke the gearâ speech
#one piece 1082#cross guild#though not sure if all of them have the same dream of being pk#crocodile buggy moria sure do#but mihawk and doflamingo?#for mihawk we barely know anything about his past#he feels so outlandish as a pirate. just spends time sleeping in a floating coffin before settling down in this abandoned mansion#did he start out that way?#what if he had a crew and a normal ship and something happened that turned him into this stone faced vampire staying solo 24/7#its possible he was also in the race some time in the past?#doflamingo is also a weird case#seems like we already saw the most significant character defining moments in his life through that flashback#and his dream seems to be just burning down the world#but he still has unresolved plot points#like what is the treasure under mariejois. what about the cds who are out for his blood. etc#with all that mystery itâs possible at some point he also wanted to be pk?#idk man what am I waffling about
272 notes
·
View notes
Text
All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]
Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.
Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby
----
You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmateâsomeone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something youâve always dreamed of.Â
But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.
Everyone, except for you.
Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.
And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.
Logan Howlett.
You canât remember a time where you didnât feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.
You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people whoâve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasnât yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.
Jean Grey.
She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you werenât. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be togetherâthe stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart.Â
You remember the day it happened so vividly, itâs almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew youâd lost him.
It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldnât deny they seemed perfect for each otherâjust as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.
Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it.Â
The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory.Â
Logan was never the same after that.
 â
You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. Itâs been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.
As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallwayâa low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you arenât needed. Itâs all so routine now.
Lost in your reverie, you donât notice the figure walking toward you until itâs too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.
âOh, sorryââ you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.
Itâs Logan.
Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him inâthe man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like heâs been through hell and back.Â
You hadnât seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a missionâanything to stay distracted.Â
But now, looking at him, thereâs something different off. Something you canât quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe itâs the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe itâsâoh.
Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below youâno longer a mural of greyâradiates colors you canât name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-
You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but heâs already turned, walking away from you.
âGive me a fuckinâ break.â
----
Brown. Loganâs hair is brown.
After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.
You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Loganâs hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.
Brown.
You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.
Why him? Why me? Why now?
You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You canât stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.
The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. Itâs like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.
Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. Youâre in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansionâs grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.
It doesnât make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You donât want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you canât just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life.Â
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.
Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasnât noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didnât want to talk to you then, and he probably doesnât want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward.Â
The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours.Â
âWhy are you here?â he asks accusingly.
You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that heâs in front of you, you are at a loss of words.
Loganâs eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. âYou shouldnât be here.â
âI needed air,â you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. âI just needed to clear my head.â
âWell, find somewhere else to do it,â he snaps, âI donât want company.â
âLogan, Iââ
âDonât,â he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. âDonât start. I know what youâre gonna say, and I donât want to hear it.â
You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. âWhat are you talking about?â
He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. âYou think I donât know whatâs going on? God, I⊠this is all so fucking stupid.â
Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. âI wasnâtââ
âEnough!â he barks, his voice echoing in the night. âIâm not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, itâs not real. Itâs just some stupid trick of the universe, and Iâm not playing along.â
His words hit you like a physical blow - like youâve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. âI donât understand. I didnât mean for any of thisââ
âYeah, well, neither did I,â he snaps at you, âAnd Iâm not gonna sit here and pretend like thereâs something here,â he gestures between you two, âwhen there isnât. Youâre not mine, and Iâm sure as hell not yours.â
The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, heâs not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over.Â
After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, âOkay,â you whisper. âI understand.â
Loganâs expression doesnât soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.
âGood. Then stay away from me.â
You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much heâs hurt you.
âIâm sorry,â you murmur, barely audible. âI didnât mean to make things worse for you.â
He doesnât respond, doesnât even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.
You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.
â
When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word heâd thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. Itâs causes pain unlike anything youâve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.
If he doesnât want you in his life, youâll accept that. You have to - itâs not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street. Â
You canât force him to feel something he doesnât, canât make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, donât you? You canât even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another?Â
Youâll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you werenâtânoâyouâre still not sure heâll ever be whole again.Â
And youâwhere do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?
â
Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadnât. You knew you werenât on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.
His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when youâre in his vicinity. Heâs leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. Itâs as if youâve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. Thereâs only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: donât tell anyone.Â
Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction.Â
It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you donât care.
But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everythingâdespite the rejection, the coldness, the angerâyou still love him.Â
And thatâs the cruelest twist of all.
So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as youâve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and youâll be able to move on.
â
The only person you tell is Charles.
âWhatâs on your mind, my child?â he asks one day, while youâre sweeping the dust in his office.Â
You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know heâs just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldnât even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you donât yield to his probing.
âNothing, really,â you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesnât reach your eyes. âJust⊠tired, I guess.â
Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade youâre trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does.Â
âIâm here to help, whatever the burden.â
You want to groan. Itâs not like heâs doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like heâs trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered.Â
âI know, Professor. But⊠itâs nothing you need to worry about.â
âYou forget, I worry about all of you,â he replies gently. âItâs in my nature.â
The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. âItâs just⊠complicated.â
âComplicated doesnât mean you have to face it alone.â
You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering youâre in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?
âItâs just⊠I donât know how to make sense of it, Professor,â you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. âEverythingâs so⊠wrong.â
He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. âWrong how?â
Knowing that youâre teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts.Â
âLogan⊠he⊠we⊠Itâs not supposed to be like this, is it?â you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know heâd get the gist.Â
Understanding dawns in Charlesâs eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth youâre struggling to voice. âThe bond you share⊠itâs more than you expected, isnât it?â
You nod, feeling the tears well up again. âBut he doesnât want it. He doesnât want me.â
The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like youâre a lost puppy. âLogan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and itâs not surprising that he would resist this new connection.â
âSo why me?â you ask. âWhy bind me to someone who will never love me?â
Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, âI wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether itâs meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important⊠that remains to be seen.â
âIt feels like a punishment,â you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it. âEvery day, it hurts more. And he wonât even look at me. I donât know how to make it stop.â
âThe heartache youâre feeling is profound, but you must understand that itâs not your fault. Loganâs reaction isnât a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.â
He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.
âTo love, even when itâs not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.â
So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourselfâto try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.
The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. Itâs like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.
Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purposeâthey all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.
The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights.Â
You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. Itâs not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.
Youâre healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your lifeâof your emotions.Â
But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.
One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.
However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights.Â
His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.
âSorry,â you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.
Logan doesnât say anything, barely noddingâif you could even it thatâ before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react.Â
Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. Itâs been so long since youâve been this close to himâso long since youâve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this.Â
Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care?Â
Because you are the only one who does care.
You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but itâs a challenge. Your hands are trembling.
â
It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. Youâre supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambitâs anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didnât take no for an answer.Â
Thatâs how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan.Â
Heâs across from you. Just your luck.
He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while itâs been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you canât help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown.Â
Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, thatâs when you slip up.Â
âI love how you blended the red with the blue!â You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. Youâre too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.
Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. âDarling, I thought you couldnât see colour?â
In any other situation, youâre sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Loganâs eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare youâve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest
âIâŠâ you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.
Rogueâs confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression thatâs impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak.Â
Loganâs gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.
The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you.Â
You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But itâs no use. The emotions youâve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall.Â
âI think I need a moment,â you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.
Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You canât even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.
Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. Youâre heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man whoâs mourning the loss of a soulmate?Â
Itâs not fair.
You donât know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.
âMind if I join you?â he asks gently.
You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench.Â
âIâm sorry,â you croak, âI didnât mean to ruin the night.â
Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. âYou didnât ruin anything. Itâs clear youâve been carrying this burden for a long time. Itâs no wonder it slipped out tonight.â
âSo everyone knows now?â you ask. He nods.
âIt wasnât hard to put two and two together,â he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.
âI just⊠I didnât want anyone to know. I didnât want to be pitied.â
âPity isnât what anyone feels right now,â Scott says softly. âWeâre worried about you. Youâve been hurting, and we didnât see it. Thatâs on us.â
âItâs not your fault,â you bring your hands down from your face. âIâve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but⊠clearly I was wrongâ
With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. âI know what youâre going through, more than you might realize.â
You glance at him, surprised by his words. âYou do?â
He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. âI was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates⊠it tore me apart. I didnât think Iâd ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldnât.â
The mention of Jeanâs name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but thereâs also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. âHow did you⊠how did you get through it?â
He sighs, âIt wasnât easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.â
You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. âIâve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.â
He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. âIf thatâs what you need to do, I understand,â he says, âsometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.â
Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. âI donât know if heâll even listen to me. Heâs made it pretty clear how he feels.â
âHeâs hurting too,â He decides, âHeâs not handling it well, but that doesnât mean he doesnât care. You both need closure, and running away wonât give you that.â
âWhat if it just makes things worse?â
âIt might.â Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. âBut it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.â
You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. âIâll⊠Iâll think about it.â
âTake the time you need,â he says. âWeâre all here for you.â
âThanks, Scott. That means a lot.â You offer him a small, grateful smile.
With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, thereâs also the thought of confronting Loganâof finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.
You really donât want to do it, and youâre pretty sure itâs just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scottâs words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.
Goddamn it.
You huff as you stand up from where youâre seated. You canât keep running from this, canât keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.
Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly youâre sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. Thereâs no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock.Â
Thereâs a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like heâs done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.
The moment he realizes itâs you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, youâre not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.
âCâmon, Logan,â you press. âYou know we need to talk.â
He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesnât look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesnât push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.
Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. Itâs a reluctant invitation, but itâs all you need.
âFine,â he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. âTalk.â
You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if heâs ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. Itâs suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when heâs standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance heâs placed between is right in your face.
âWhy did you come?â Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.
âBecause we canât keep pretending this isnât happening,â you reply, âWe need to talk about whatâs going on between us.â
His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. âThereâs nothing to say,â he says bitterly. âI told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.â
âItâs not enough!â you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. âYou think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesnât exist, and thatâs supposed to solve everything? It doesnât work like that, Logan.â
He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. âWell what do you want me to say?â he demands, his voice rising. âThat Iâm sorry? That I didnât mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didnât. But that doesnât change the fact that I canât be what you want me to be.â
His words hurt.Â
âI know you told me how you feel,â you start, âbut youâve never let me tell you how I feel. Youâve never given me the chance to say that itâs been tearing me apart.â
A flash of guilt. âI didnât think⊠I didnât think you needed to say it. I already knew.â
âThat isnât fair,â you argue.
âYou donât understand,â he counters, âI lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now⊠now Iâm supposed to just⊠move on? With you? Itâs not that simple.â
âI never asked you to love me, Logan,â you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. âI never pushed for anything more than friendshipâitâs not like you gave me the chance! Youâve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like Iâm nothing more than a burden, like I donât even matter!â
You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesnât apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. âIâm trying to protect you,â he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him
âProtect me?ïżœïżœ you echo incredulously. âAll youâre doing is make me feel like shit. Like Iâm worthless. I canât even be your friend, to help you through this.â
You pause. âYou expect us all to know how youâre feeling, but you canât even communicate it.â
Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment youâve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.
âI canât be what you want me to be,â he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. âI donât know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like⊠I canât let anyone in.â
Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but thereâs also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection.Â
âYou havenât even tried,â you say softly with a quiet resignation, âYou havenât even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.â
What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But thereâs no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that heâs not going to take that step, too broken to try.
Thatâs when it really hits you.Â
Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start.Â
You give up.
This time, it is you who turns your back on him.Â
âGoodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.â
You donât wait for a response. You donât glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.
âÂ
You decide to go on the mission.
Itâs nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief.Â
The lack of immediate danger doesnât make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.
Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They donât ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, youâre grateful.
âI still think youâre crazy for going solo,â Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. âBut if anyone can handle it, itâs you.â
You manage a small smile in return. âThanks, Rogue. I just need some timeâŠâ
Kitty, whoâs been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze. âWe get it. Just promise youâll keep in touch, okay? And donât hesitate to call if you need backup.â
âI promise,â you assure.
She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small deviceâthe X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out.Â
âHere,â she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. âThis is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you donât need anything, just⊠let us know youâre okay, alright?â
You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kittyâs gaze.Â
âAlright, Iâll check in regularly. I wonât leave you guys in the dark.â
Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. âYouâve got this,â she says, âAnd weâve got your back, even from a distance.â You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express.Â
It almost feels like a walk of shameâleaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you wonât let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport.Â
â
When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athensâthey all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.
The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.
You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know youâre safe and on track. You donât share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.
Then, in a small cafĂ© in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. Heâs a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. Heâs warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.
He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You donât tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, youâre just another traveler, searching for somethingâthough he doesnât pry into what that something is.
As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and itâs nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesnât know about your past, about the things youâre running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You donât talk about the mission, and you certainly donât talk about Logan.
One evening, as youâre both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. âSo, where are you off to next?â
You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. âIâm heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.â
His eyes light up. âFlorence? Iâve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?â
A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance youâve carefully maintained, but another partâthe part thatâs been lonely for so longânods in agreement. âSure, why not?â
â
Back at the mansion, things havenât been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but thereâs a noticeable shiftâa missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if thatâs possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.
His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. Heâs always been rough around the edges, but now, itâs like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, heâs reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if heâs trying to outrun somethingâor someone.Â
In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansionâs gym, trying to work off the restless energy thatâs been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he canât seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.
This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesnât need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other manâs presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesnât slow his punches, doesnât acknowledge Scottâs presence, but he knows why heâs here. Theyâve had this conversation beforeâor something like itâbut nothingâs changed. Nothingâs gotten better.
Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Heâs been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but heâs kept his distance, knowing that heâd only be pushed away. But this canât go onâLogan canât keep doing this, canât keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.
âShe wouldnât want this,â he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Loganâs fists against the bag.
Loganâs movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. âWho?â he growls, not bothering to turn around. âHer or Jean?â
Scott doesnât flinch at the harshness in the other manâs tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, âBoth.â
Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scottâs words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesnât want to hear this, doesnât want to be reminded of what heâs lostâof who heâs lost.Â
Taking a step closer, Scottâs voice is firm. âLook, Iâm not a spiritual person. But I also donât think the universe messed up with this.â
Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesnât want to acknowledge it. Doesnât want to think about what could have been, what heâs been too scared to even consider.
âI know you know how I felt about Jean,â Scott says quietly, knowing heâs breaching a sensitive subject. âLosing her⊠it killed me too. And if I had been given a chanceâa real chance to be with her, to make things rightâI would have taken it. No hesitation.â
Loganâs breath hitches at that. The truth is, heâs been runningârunning from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real.Â
âIâm not saying you should chase after her,â he continues. âBut I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesnât just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.â
The weight of Scottâs words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is rightâdeep down, heâs always known. But that doesnât make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jeanâitâs all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back.Â
Thereâs something else too, something heâs been trying to ignore but canât any longer: the way he feels about you, the way heâs always felt, even if he couldnât admit it to himself. One of the first thoughtâs that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.
Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. âJust think about it,â he says softly. âThink about what you really want. And donât wait until itâs too late to figure it out.â
Logan doesnât respond, but Scott doesnât need him to. Heâs said what he needed to say, and now itâs up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.
The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he canât keep doing thisâcanât keep tearing himself apart over something he canât change, something heâs too afraid to confront.
But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldnât want him to throw away.
With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesnât have all the answersâhell, he barely knows where to startâbut he knows one thing for sure: he's canât run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.
â
Youâve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. Youâve grown to trust him. Heâs never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants.Â
But thereâs always been a small, nagging doubt that youâve pushed asideâa feeling that something isnât quite right. Youâve ignored it, convincing yourself that youâre just being paranoid after everything youâve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.
It isnât until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. Youâre walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.
âI found this place the last time I was here,â Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. âItâs a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. Youâll love it.â
You hesitate, something in his toneâor maybe itâs the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightlyâsets off alarm bells in your mind. Youâve come to trust him though, havenât you? Youâve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldnât lead you into danger.
Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and thatâs when you see itâthe change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.
Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.
Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. âDid you really think I didnât know?â he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. âYouâre a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?â
The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. âWhat⊠why?â you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.
âWhy?â He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. âBecause mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for⊠research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.â
You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. Youâre weak.Â
âYou wonât get away with this,â you say.
âOh, but I already have,â he replies with cruel satisfaction. âNo one knows where you are. And even if they did, itâll be too late by the time they find you.â
With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.
You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold.Â
Location: Florence.Â
Message: Help.
Just as you hit send, Marco notices what youâre doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. âYou littleâ!â he snarls, but itâs too late. The message has already been sent.
His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. âYou think youâre so clever, donât you? But it doesnât matter. Theyâll never get here in time.â
Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. âYou wonât win,â you whisper with the last of your energy.
Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. âWeâll see about that,â he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you.Â
You can only hope theyâthat Loganâwill reach you in time.
â
The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room, and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kittyâs pocket. Itâs the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device.Â
Loganâs head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. Heâs on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. âWhat the hell was that?â he demands, his voice tense with urgency.
Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message thatâs flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. âItâs from her⊠Florence⊠Help.â
Thereâs a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement.Â
Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. âIâm going,â he growls, already heading for the door.
âLogan, wait!â Scott steps forward, blocking Loganâs path with a firm hand on his chest.Â
âGet out of my way, Summers,â He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. âIâm not waiting around while sheâs in danger.â
âWe canât just rush in without a plan,â Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. âWe need to know what weâre dealing with.â
Logan shoves the other mutantâs hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. âShe sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and weâre wasting time standing here talking about it!â
The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Loganâs been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situationâof youâ has pushed him to the brink.Â
âLogan,â Ororo interjects, âWe understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trapââ
âI donât give a damn if itâs a trap!â He snaps, his voice rising. âSheâs part of our team! We canât just leave her there!â
âThatâs not what weâre saying,â Scott tries to reason, but Logan isnât having it.
âThen what the hell are you sayinâ?â He demands, his frustration boiling over. âWhy are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?â
Thereâs a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then itâs Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. âLogan⊠what if⊠what if she doesnât want to see you?â
He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. âWhat the fuck are you talking about?â he growls.
Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. âShe left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two⊠they werenât good. Maybe sheâmaybe she doesnât want you to be the one to save her.â
Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. âFuck that!â he roars with a fierce, protective rage. âSheâs part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I donât care whatâs happened between us, Iâm not leavinâ her there!â
The room falls silent, the weight of Loganâs words settling over everyone. They know Logan is rightâsheâs part of the team, and they canât leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.
Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. âWeâre not saying we shouldnât go after her, Logan. Weâre saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.â
âI donât care,â he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. âIâm going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, Iâm not lettinâ her go through this alone.â
Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. âAlright. But we do this together, as a team.â
Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. âFine. Letâs go.â
â
Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. Youâre in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like itâs filled with cotton, and thereâs a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that youâre restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they donât budge.
And then you see himâMarco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that youâve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game heâs been playing.
âAh, youâre awake,â he says, voice dripping with mock concern. âI was starting to wonder if Iâd given you too much of the sedative. But it seems youâre tougher than I thought.â
You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.
He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. âOh, donât bother trying to speak. We wouldnât want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, Iâm impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.â
He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. âYou know, Iâve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but thereâs something special about you. Something⊠unique.â He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. âToo bad your powers wonât do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.â
Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.
âSuch fire in your eyes,â Marco murmurs, almost to himself. âItâs a shame youâll never see the light of day again. But donât worryâIâll make sure your abilities are put to good use.â
He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. âNow, letâs see what we can do to make you a little more⊠compliant.â
Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.
The X-Men have arrived.
Marcoâs eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. âStop them! Donât let them get near her!â
The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but theyâre no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your earsâRogueâs powerful punches, Scottâs optic blasts, and Stormâs lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but itâs no use.Â
Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. Heâs fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. Heâs coming for you.
But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You canât hear what heâs thinking, but you can see the conflict on his faceâthe way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize heâs unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you donât want him to.
In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesnât waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. âWeâve got you, sugah,â she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. âYouâre safe now.â
You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. Youâre shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but youâre free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.
Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving.Â
And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze.Â
â
Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchangedâstill the safe haven youâve always known.
But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. Youâve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.
Except, thereâs one person you havenât seen. Logan.
His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. Youâve felt his presence in the mansionâheard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboardsâbut heâs kept his distance. He hasnât sought you out, hasnât tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.
Youâve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. Youâve reminded yourself over and over that you donât need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you canât help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.
More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.
Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts youâve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Loganâs hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didnât come for you.
Youâre so lost in your thoughts that you donât notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.
âIâm glad youâre alright.â
The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if heâs not sure how youâll react to his presence. Thereâs a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well.Â
For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. Heâs as rugged and intimidating as ever, but thereâs something different in his eyesâsomething a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question thatâs been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you canât keep it inside any longer.
âWhat happened?â you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. âIn Florence?â
His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesnât answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words.Â
You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but thereâs a part of you thatâs already bracing for disappointment. Youâve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And youâre tired of it. Youâre tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.
Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. âI⊠I hesitated,â he admits huskily, almost in a growl. âI wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then⊠I didnât know if you wanted me to.â
His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotionsâsurprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadnât expected this, hadnât realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.
âWhy wouldnât I want you to?â you ask softly, searching his face for answers.
Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. âBecause of everything thatâs happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought⊠maybe youâd be better off if it wasnât me.â
You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. âLogan, this canât keep being about what you think is best,â you begin. âAnd itâs not about who saves who. Itâs about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.â
He doesnât have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. Itâs like heâs carrying the weight of everything heâs done, everything heâs failed to do, and itâs crushing him.Â
âIâm sorry,â he finally manages to get out. âFor everything.â
You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.
âI know Iâve messed up,â he continues. âI know I havenât been there for you like I shouldâve. But Iâm here now. And if youâll let me⊠I want to try to make things right.â
You know you should be happyâthis is everything youâve wanted to hear from him for so long. But itâs also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it canât just disappear with a snap of your fingers.
âI donât know if Iâm ready for that,â you admit.Â
Thereâs pain on his face. âI get it,â he says, his voice rough but steady. âI know Iâve got a lot to make up for. And I know itâs not going to happen overnight. But Iâm willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.â
âI need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.â
He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. âTake all the time you need,â he says quietly. âIâm not going anywhere.â
âI appreciate that,â With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. âI need time,â you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.
âAnd youâve got it,â Logan replies. âAs much as you need.â
â
Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know itâs necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. Itâs nice.
But Logan⊠Logan doesnât give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesnât push, doesnât pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasnât forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isnât going anywhere.
It starts with the small thingsâthings so subtle that you almost donât notice at first. You probably wouldnât have suspected anything if you hadnât known the kind of person he is. Heâs nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realizeâthe rift he created after Jeanâs death muddling with your memoryâand he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.
In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where youâd be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know itâs him. Itâs in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of itâjust a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, Iâm thinking of you.
Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, youâre tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesnât approach you, doesnât speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just⊠exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.
Itâs in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Loganâone thatâs patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. Heâs just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.
And then there are the little surprises in your roomâsmall, thoughtful gestures that you canât help but notice. A favorite book youâd mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Loganâs hand. Even your plants, the ones youâd worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.
He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what heâs doing. Itâs all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if heâs afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?
At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures donât change anything, that theyâre just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that heâs just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. Youâve built walls around your heart for a reason, and youâre not ready to let them down just because heâs being nice.
But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isnât just going through the motionsâheâs really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isnât just about the snacks or the books or the plantsâitâs about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.
After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. Thereâs no note, no explanationâthere never isâbut you know who left them.
You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. Itâs such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. Youâd forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowersâyouâd mentioned it once, years ago. The way theyâre resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldnât. Itâs as if heâs telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.
And itâs then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isnât just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.
He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jeanâs death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.
So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. Itâs just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.
But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you donât want him to.
He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesnât say anything at first, doesnât ask why youâre here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. Itâs something youâve come to appreciate about him in recent monthsâhis newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than youâre ready to give.
"Iâve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.
"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if heâs afraid of saying the wrong thing.
You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Youâve been⊠different. Doing all these little things⊠I see them, you know."
Loganâs eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That Iâm sorry," he says, with so much emotion. âYou were never a burden to me.â
You swallow hard. "Itâs hard for me, Logan," you admit, "Iâve been hurt before, and Iâm scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, youâll just⊠break me."
He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "Iâd never hurt you again," he says, "Iâd rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."
Thatâs enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That heâs willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.
And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, youâre ready to let him.
You donât say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he canât believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.
The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isnât just a kissâitâs a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "Iâm still scared," you whisper.
"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But Iâm here, and Iâm not going anywhere. Weâll take this slow, darlinâ. Whatever you need."
You nod. "Okay."
Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasnât in years. Itâs a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of loveâa smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much youâre giving him by letting him back into your heart.
â
The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his wordâhe is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadnât expected. The small gestures continueâcoffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.
You can feel the doubts youâve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. Itâs in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. Itâs in the way he looks at youânot with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.
With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because thatâs what he thought he had to do.
With you, he has a choice. He doesnât need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and heâll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.
One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansionâs porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush.Â
âYouâve been quiet today,â he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.
âIâve just been thinking,â you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. Itâs a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far youâve come in trusting him again.
ââBout what?â he asks, his voice gentle.
âAbout us,â you say, your voice steady. âAbout how things have changed. How⊠how good theyâve been.â
Loganâs hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. âYeah?â
âYeah,â you echo, squeezing his hand. âIâm not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.â
He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. âYou sure?â
You nod, smiling softly. âIâm sure. Youâve shown me that this bond means something to you, that youâre not going to hurt me. And⊠I want this. I want us.â
Loganâs face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. âIâm glad, darlinâ. Because I want us too. More than anything.â
â
It isnât long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, itâs subtleâsmall things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when youâre around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.
During a training session in the Danger Room, youâre paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on youâmaking sure youâre safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. Itâs a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.
After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.
âWhat?â you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.
Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. âNothing, just⊠noticing how good you two are together.â
Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. âYeah, itâs⊠different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.â
Logan shrugs, but thereâs no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. âWhatâre you guys talking about?â
âJust that itâs nice to see you happy, Logan,â Ororo says gently. âReally happy.â
Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. âYeah. It is.â
More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Loganâs demeanor has shiftedâless brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.
âI must say,â Charles says, his tone warm and approving, âI havenât seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, itâs working.â
And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isnât just the little gestures anymoreâitâs the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.
â
âI never thought weâd get here,â you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.
Logan looks at you, his expression tender. âNeither did I,â he says, his voice full of sincerity. âBut Iâm damn glad we did.â
You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. âI love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.â
His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. âI love you too, darlinâ. I never thought Iâd feel this way about someone.â
You know what heâs trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. âShow me,â you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.
He doesnât need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if heâs savoring the feel of you.Â
You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown.Â
His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until youâre both breathless.
When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each otherâs, youâre both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.
âYouâre everything to me,â he murmurs. âI never thought Iâd get my happy ending, but here you are⊠and Iâm never lettinâ you go.â
You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where youâre meant to be. âAnd Iâm never leaving,â you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.
This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Loganâs hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.
That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if youâre the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, youâre not just in loveâyouâre in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely.Â
And that makes all the difference.
----
a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual
#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett fic#the wolverine#wolverine#wolverine angst#logan x reader#logan howlett#james logan howlett#logan howlett imagine#angst#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett angst#deadpool 3#wolverine smut#deadpool#wade wilson#x men#x men movies#logan howlett smut#mcu#marvel#mcu imagine
4K notes
·
View notes
Note
hello, lovely! is it okay to request a short fic wherein gojoâs pregnant wife (y/n) stole his kikufuku? thank u! (missing soft gojo hours đ)
đ. đ§đšđđ: omg stoooop this is so cute and sweet, what!?
âč đđšđ§đđđ§đđŹ: Gojo x pregnant afab/fem! reader - tooth-rotting fluff - pet names (angel, baby, stars and moon, sweetheart) - Gojo being a big crybaby over sweets - so soft, i was smiling while writing, hehe~.
âč đ°đšđ«đ đđšđźđ§đ: 1.1k
THUD!
ââŠ!â You jolt, immediately looking to the entrance of the living room to see your husband. âGojo! You okay?â
The white-haired man stands still with a gawked expression, eyes covered by his black blindfold with his usual Jujutsu Tech attire, and you can assume the noise came from the souvenir bags he dropped to the floor.
ââŠY/n, my angelic stars and moon,â he finally speaks after a few seconds of silence, and you can see his lips quiver with trembling hands. âIsâŠIs that my last kikufuku?âÂ
If there is one thing Gojo loved more than anything other than you, it would be his undying love for sweets! You could never find him without any at his disposal; heâd have a bunch of lollipops in his pockets, be licking popsicles or soft serves while monitoring his first years during their missions, or typically stop by a cafĂ© and grab some crepes for dessert to take home and share with you. Heâs known to have a childish heart, and sweets are his weakness!
His all-time favorite would be the mochi delicacy he often gets during his mission trips to Sendai, and heâs always sure to buy a whole box worth to make the long trip up North worth it. Kikufuku, the crushed edamame and cream-filled mochi, is Gojoâs favorite sweet to eat â youâre a witness to him happily stuffing his face with them lying on the couch after a hard dayâs work. Heâs the type to eat one every week until he can return to Sendai and get more.Â
This week was the very last one he had saved, secured in the cold fridge for him to eat once he got home. And he wasnât going to Sendai anytime soon, so he planned on treasuring and savoring it the moment he stepped inside and lay beside his pregnant partner to chill on this blissful spring evening.
He could never get over the sight of you whenever he came home. Gojo loved his partner so much that he swears he would burn the world if you commanded him to, which you knew is an exaggeration, but his love is true. The day he got on one knee and heard you say yes to his proposal was the happiest heâd ever been, sweeping you off your feet, putting you in your dream puffy white dress, and officially becoming the spouse of the strongest sorcerer in the jujutsu world! And now you were swole with his child!? Not even God could strike this man to calm him down of his glee.
You were sitting on the living room couch like you always did, waiting for your husband to return, wearing a black maternity one-piece that comfortably molded around your figure and a blue flannel shirt â his flannel â to keep you warm. Gojo came home with souvenirs to share and impress, a huge smile just from thinking about your reactions.Â
However, the sight has him gasp dramatically loud and drop everything to the wooden floor, because he saw something in your hand, something that broke his heart noticing the green and white filling apparent from a bite on an undeniable white rice cake.Â
You were eating the very last of his kikufukuâŠHow could you!?
You blinked at him, then turned to the sweet in your hand, and the realization of what you were doing finally hit you. âOh! Iâm sorry, Satoru! I was feeling snacky.â
The tall man teeters to where youâre sitting, whining with every step. âSo why didnât you eat your snacks, sweetheart?â
âI donât know?â You shrugged, licking bits of the edamame cream off your middle finger. âThey didnât seem like what I was craving for. I wanted something sweet, ya know? And I finished my ice cream two nights ago, so this was all I could find.â
âYeah, but like,â you can tell his eyebrows were scrunched together even if the black material concealed his upper face. âThat was my last one, baby! Plus, you couldâve texted me youâd eat it, or I couldâve stopped somewhere to grab you something sweet!â
âI know! But, you were very busy today; a big mission up in Kyoto and a meeting with Principal Yaga, soooâŠâ you squished the mochi gently, licking more of the filling coming out. âI didnât wanna interrupt or bother youâŠâ
âBut stilllll~!âGod, you were so cute when you cared for him, you almost made him forget the whole thing then and there. But you canât hate the man for being a little upset, right? Gojo sighs and places his cheek on your belly. âLittle booger, you hear what your momma is doing to me? So cruel~.â
You gasped. âHey! Donât say that to them!â Your free hand tries to yank him off your tummy by the hair, yet he doesnât budge as he exclaims painfully. âWhat, are you saying the pregnant love of your life is some villain because they ate one of your sweets? As if I never caught you taking scoops of my favorite ice cream!? Have you no shame, Gojo Satoru!â
He swats your hand off his snowy hair, âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry!â Between you and Principal Yaga, there is a scarce few Gojo would allow to beat him up for his foolishness. He turns his head â still above the baby â to face you and releases a sigh. âIâm sorry, I was just really stoked Iâd get to have that kikufuku; itâll be a long while before I go get moreâŠUghhh.â Another sigh is exerted, and you can only shake your head with rolled eyes. Heâs such a baby.
You bring his blindfold down to his chin to free the azure eyes heâs been hiding since this morning, and his hair falls from its spiky appearance. Then, you separate the mochi into two and push one to his lips, âYou happy now?â You say with a grin. âIâm sorry, but I wanted to give these a try. Besides, weâll have a little one to look after soon; wouldnât it be nice for them to know what their father likes to snack on from time to time?â
Now, how in the world could Gojo still be upset with that logic? Being a father is a foreign concept heâs accepting with open arms, sharing the experience with the person he values and cherishes the most. To have a child with you is the highest honor of all for him. And imagining his small family happy and eating sweets together under his care makes his cheeks show a subtle shade of pink.
He smiles as he accepts the piece of the rice cake, chuckling when you flick his nose playfully. âYouâre so sweet, angel.â
© đđšđŹđĄđąđ đ«đđČ2024 â reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly â© dividers by @/benkeibear.
#đŻđđđđ Ëââ§ê°á â à»ê± â§âË đŸđđđđđ: đșđđđđđđđđ#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk fluff#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#gojo x reader#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru fluff#gojo x you#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo fluff#satoru gojo x you#gojou satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk imagines#anime smut
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
SWEAR ITâS JUST RIGHT FOR YOU. | NANAMI. K
àȘâ⎠synopsis: when you and nanami are equally as obsessed with each other, it creates this perfect balance. you cook for him, and he treats your pussy like itâs a blessing.
àȘââŽword count: 3,3k
àȘâ⎠c.w: pure filth with a bit of fluff, soft dom! nanami, he turns a bit rough towards the end, rough facefucking, cunnilingus + fingering, dirty talk + praise, riding, multiple orgasms + squirting.
When Nanami praises you, itâs soft, gentle and endearing. His rough palm gently collides with the soft skin of your jaw and his thumb traces your cheek. He is reminding you of how much you mean to him, how he would burn the entire world if it meant keeping you safe and protected. You are his fairy, his delicate girl whom he could never imagine even raising his voice at. When he scolds you, his voice is stern and filled with worry despite the displeased tone, his hand grabs at your shoulder not to hurt you, and you want to caress your thumb over his forehead and get him to stop furrowing his eyebrows so deeply.
âYouâll get wrinkles, Ken.â Your voice pulls him out of his displeased state for a moment, and Kento hears birds chirping outside of the window and the sunbeam caresses your skinâIt hits your beautiful eyes and he takes in every detail; your eyebrows, the slight discoloration the bottom of your jaw, the mole that seems to bring out the beauty in you even more, your eyelashes that arenât curled but naturally have a pretty shape to them and he heaves out a sigh. He is consumed by love wherever you are near.
Heaven knows how much the man craved domesticity. He found comfort in itâa routine, a promise that when he comes home, he gets to take off his brown shoes at the front door, put his keys in the small bowl that has a mirror hanging right above it. He would then look at his reflection in the mirror and look away immediately when he notices the sweat stains as he removes his jacket. He hears your footsteps as you rush out of the kitchen with a pretty apron around your waist. You made bread, and Nanami isnât sure whether to be infatuated by the smell of it, or the smell of your hair that hits his nostrils as you wrap your arms around his waist.
He wouldnât care that your hair is slightly damp, but he would breathe out how the tank top you were wearing was going to get you sick if you donât watch out. And Kento cares a lot about your comfort, he respects you a lot, so when you hug his sweaty self, his hands would gently try to remove your arms from around him and protest that he was dirty.
âItâs all hard work, Ken. I like it.â To which he wouldnât say much but give in and let you hold him. He understands that to an extent, having a natural smell like this was attractive, heâs always told you that he likes it when you come home complaining about sweating too much and all he says is that it makes you even more attractive. Your flushed cheeks, your hair sticking up in small antennas, your nose scrunching up at how disgusting it feels to have your shirt cling onto your skinâ
âCan I join you in the shower?â Which always catches you off guard, but you accept of course and Nanami sets his book down, he removes his glass and folds them neatly on top of the book before following right behind you in the bathroom. You giggle nervously when you see him close the door and lock it before leaning against it, and you let out a small and timid âwhat?â when he keeps eyeing with the same intense eyes.
âYou are beautiful.â He never denies that he is looking at youâadmiring you, but instead reminds you every time that nothing in the world can change his mind about his infatuation with you.
And somewhere in between that comforting thought of coming home to you, a show playing on TV in the living room, bread baking in the oven and the smell of a clean homeâNanami dreams of fucking you stupid on the couch. He wouldnât remove your apron, he wouldnât let you wash your hands off of the flourâhe would simply drop his pants, push your shorts down and spread your legs only to find out that you werenât wearing any panties.
He feels sick to his stomach at thought, sighs and rubs his forehead at the fact that he was imagining such dirty things to do with you. If it were a normal fantasy like coming home and fucking you on the bed, he wouldnât feel that bad. But that was the thing about fantasies, they existed in our head without our control, and it was up to us to act out on them or not. Kento cherished you too much to scare you off with his oh-so-called sick and twisted fantasy of his.
He comes home after a long day at work, and itâs a few minutes past seven. The house isnât quiet, there is a show playing in the background and that was the first thing that had Kento stop dead in his tracks. He chooses to brush it off and simply rids himself of his jacket and shoes, sets his keys on the bowl before the smell of bread hits his nostrils and his lips part in confusion.
Was he dreaming? Did he somehow astral project into another dimension where his fantasy was a reality? It only confuses him further when you come out of the kitchen wearing an apronâin this reality though, youâve chosen to wear one of his shirts instead, and Nanami doesnât know if itâs better or worse. He tries to hide it, the way he can feel his cock hardening in his pants as you approach him with his shirt, fuzzy socks and hands that had traces of flour on them.
âYouâre home.â Is how you greet him, your cheek resting on his chest and melting against his body as you breathe in his scent, a constant reminder that you get to be greeted with this sight five times a week around the same time. You boyfriendâs hand travels up to the back of your head and his fingers comb through your hair as he hums a tired response.
âDid you miss me?â Obviously, is what you want to say. But instead, when you look up at him and notice his hooded eyes, you feel his other rest on the small of your back and your heart leaps in your chest. All of a sudden, you feel hot and you feel something poking at you and youâre just surprised.
It was normal for your boyfriend to have needs, you were used to the sexual frustration that comes with having such a stressful jobâbut normally, Kento would avoid initiating anything with you until heâs showered and made sure he was clean. For him to insinuate that he wanted you, and so loudly with those eyesâyou could feel your panties getting ruined.
âPretty girl,â he calls out for you again when he notices your silence and the hand resting on your waist holds your chin whilst the other firmly grabs your hair. âDid you miss me?â He asks again, stern and you nod. You missed him too much, you realize. Because the lack of conversation beside greeting him and telling him heâs homeâall of it was intensifying the sexual tension. It was almost like your body was warning you that Kento wasnât going to go easy on you this time and you felt jittery.
âI missed you, Kento. Did you miss me?â You say as your hands grab onto his blouse in fists. You bring him closer to you, and gasp when you feel his hand travel down to hold your neck. He isnât trying to cut your air, but when you make eye contact with him and see that his face has darkened, you let out a small noise.
âLet me show you instead.â
On the couch, Nanami wastes no time to attach his lips to yours and kiss you breathless. He was such a good kisser, always so passionate, always making sure to tease the corner of your lips before biting nibbling here and thereâand fuck, did he lose his mind every time you tried to suck on his tongue. He would just push you on your back and cage you between his strong arms.
Nanami feels like he is constantly losing his breath whenever you are near, but when you grab onto his forearms and moan, he goes feral. Suddenly, he is reminded of how much weaker you are compared to himâfrail, delicate, soft and sensitive to his touch. He is lucky, he is blessed and he makes sure to spoil you and that pretty pussy.
His kisses trail all the way down from your neck to your collarbones, his takes a whiff of your perfume and hums.
âYou smell so sweet,â he mumbles against your skin. Instead of removing your apron and shirt, he pushes them up to reveal the cute panties that you were wearing and his finger traces the wet patch thatâs already formed.
âKento,â you call out to your boyfriend breathless, desperateâas though you were on a deserted island and he was the water to quench your thirst. Your legs spread on instinct for the man to settle between them and you feel his hot breath right against your panties.
âBut you smell even better here⊠Right here,â he says and he pushes your panties to the side to reveal the wet mess hiding behind the fabric. You prop yourself up a bit higher to be able to look at Nanami while he eats you out, and you blush when you notice that heâs already staring at you.
âUp.â He pats your ass and you lift up your hips to allow him to remove your panties for you, but instead of throwing them on the floor, you see him take a whiff of the fabric and sigh and your blush darkens.
âCan I keep these, my love?â He asks sweetly, voice so deep you felt like your pussy was embarrassing you with how wet it was and you mindlessly nod. âIs that so?â He knew you wouldnât say no, but he still wanted to thank you for trusting him with his perverted intentions.
âYouâre too good for me.â Is the last thing that you hear from him before he dives between your legs and fuckâhe is too good. You know Nanami is good, you donât doubt that he can make you cum as many times as he wants before reaching his own high, but something about him eating your pussy like a treat, enjoying every drop and sucking on your clit with the intention of making you lose your mindâthat was too much.
You feel his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks before smothering his face in your pussy. His nose nudges at your clit while his tongue licks at your folds and you think that for a moment, maybe he is enjoying this more than you do. His hands grip your thighs to keep them in place, and when he notices that your legs are starting to shake and your hips are bucking up, he takes one look at you and his dick almost bursts.
Flushed chest, swollen lips and a fucked out face. If Nanami wasnât already in love with your beauty, then he feels himself falling deeper for you. You fall apart on his tongue a couple of seconds later, he enjoys the way you gasp, moan and cry as he keeps his lips attached to your clit and you try to push his head away.
âToo much,â you gasp. âKento!â you cry out when you feel his two fingers nudge at your folds and by this point, you are breathing too hard. You feel his thick finger prod at that one spongy spot almost immediately and your eyes roll to the back of your head.
He presses a hand to your stomach and praises are spilling from his lips like a chant, watching as your soul almost escaped your body with every thrust of his thick fingers perfectly against your spot.
âThatâs right baby, youâre doing so good,â âthis pussy takes me so well,â âyou make me so proud, look at this pussyâfucking filthy,â
The mixture of praise and him losing his composure and cursing has you reaching your orgasm again faster than expected. But this time, you make a bit of a mess and you try to apologize for ruining the couch and his clothes but he is quick to shut you up with his lips.
âYouâve just squirted on me, and you want to apologize?â he mumbles against your cheek, fingers still buried inside you and you whine.
âI made a mess,â you try to reason with your beast of a boyfriend but he quickly retreats his fingers back and delivers a harsh smack to your pussy.
âItâs never been a problem when itâs our bed, has it?â
âKento,â you call out softly when your boyfriend starts to kiss at your neck again. âKento, fuck my mouth.â Nanamiâs brain short circuits at this and the shock is evident on his features. He doesnât have time to stop you or protest because you are quick to get off the couch and on your knees for him.
âYouâve been so good to me, keeping me satisfied and happyâI bet you want to fuck my mouth sometimes, donât you?â Your hands are quickly unbuckling his belt. You donât remove his pants completely, only enough to free his painfully hard cock from his boxers. Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and you watch as he throws his head back on the couch with each slow stroke.
âYou donât know what you are asking for,â is what he says as he tries to get you to back out of this, but you are determined to let him ruin your life. Him, the only man on this planet whom you would blindly trust with your life.
âI know what I am asking for.â
âI could hurt you,â
âI will tap your thigh if you do,â and then thereâs a few moments of silence where Kento just stares deeply into your eyes. When you see him lean down towards you, your breath catches in your throat and your lips part in shock when his hand goes to the back of your head and the other one grips your jaw open.
âOpen up.â And when you do, he rests the fat tip of his cock on your tongue. The pre-cum is a bit salty but you donât say anything as you let Kento handle your mouth to his liking. He tells you to open up a bit more and breathe before he starts to thrust his dick in and out of your mouth at a slow pace.
Youâre taking it well at first, but when you notice your boyfriendâs thighs shaking, indicating that he is holding back on you, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Quite literally.
Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and you push his dick down your throat, nose nuzzling against his pubes and he curses out loud.
âFuck--!â You repeat the same motion over and over again, and by the third time, your boyfriend finally breaks and starts fucking your mouth like a starved man. Your knees burn, and so do your lungsâthe couch is moving every time Kento brings your head back on his cock and youâve braced yourself on his thighs for support.
âSorryâfuck, Iâm sorry baby,â he says between gritted teeth. However, when his eyes catch that youâre rubbing your swollen clit to the same rhythm of your head on his cock, something in him snaps.
He pushes you off of his cock, and any complaint you head is drowned out when he stands up and his cock stands proud. You look up at him from your spot on the floor and brace yourself on his thighs again when you feel him grab your face and push his cock inside your mouth.
âFilthy fucking girl,â he breathes out. âCanât even let me be sweet to youâshit,â based on how difficult it is to even talk properly, you guess that he is close and so you sneak a hand between his legs and starts fondling with his ballsâyou squeeze them, and thatâs when Nanami finally breaks and cums down your throat with a broken moan.
Even while trying to catch his breath, Nanamiâs hands caress your face and neck as he takes a seat and pulls you closer to him. He then helps you get back up on your feet and pulls you on his lap to kiss you. He can taste himself on your tongue even after youâve swallowed everything.
âWas I good?â You ask when he pulls away from your lips to kiss your cheek and down your neck once again, a pattern that heâs learned always turns you into putty.
âPerfect, my love. You are perfect for me.â
You are surprised at how fast he gets hard again, but you supposed itâs also because you were literally grinding your bare pussy against his dick. Your hands hold onto his shoulders for support as you try to slip his dick past your folds, but you let out a surprised noise when he easily lifts you up and aligns the tip of his cock with your pussy.
âNoticed that you like my arms a lot,â he says and you are obliged to stare at his forearms and good lordâthe way they flex as they hold you above his cock, Nanami lets out an amused chuckle when he sees a string of arousal drip directly on top of his cock. âYou do like them, huh?â
âBaby,â you whimper and Kento cannot find it in him to tease you any longer. He gently drops you down on his cock and he immediately gets to work. His hand rests on the small of your back and pushes you towards him to press your chest flush against his, his hands then grip your ass cheeks and he starts to slam you up and down on his cock with so much ease.
You sound like a mess. The combination of your boyfriendâs strong arms and the tip of his thick cock abusing your spot turns you into a blabbering mess on top of him.
âSo good, so goodâfuck, oh fuck,â sounded like music to his ears. Your whines your moans, your fucked out look and your eyes begging him to ruin youâNanami was addicted to every part of you.
And it only takes a few more messy and sloppy thrusts from him and you cum around him with a loud cry.
âThere you go,â he says breathlessly, feeling his own orgasm creeping up on him. âMake a mess on me, baby,â
You shake like a leaf on top of him, hands gripping onto his shirt for dear life and lips pressed against his neck.
âThink you can take a bit more for me? Iâm really close, darling,â
âHurry up,â you say desperately and as promised, Kento thrusts a few more times before he is cumming inside you with a loud groan. He buries his face in your neck, taking in your scent that has now been mixed with his own and a hint of sweat. He relaxes in your hold, hand tracing the small of your back as a way to get you to come down from your orgasm and perhaps even apologize for being a bit rough with you earlier.
All of his worries are brushed off when you pull away from him to press a kiss to his forehead, his nose then down to lips.
âI love you, Ken. I love you too much,â you announce, a hint of sleepiness to your voice and a smile finds its way to his face.
âI love you too, darling. I love you too much.â
2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.
#moon's works#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#nanami kento#nanami smut#nanami x reader#nanami kento x reader#jjk nanami#jujutsu kaisen headcanon#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen headers#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami kento x reader smut#nanami x reader smut#nanami kento smut#nanami fluff#nanami imagine
14K notes
·
View notes
Text
For Cryinâ Out Loud
pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x afab! reader
how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters
word count: 7.9k
description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you canât sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you canât help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.
warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (donât like it, donât read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlinâ, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isnât really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, heâs also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it yâall), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joelâs a big boy. think thatâs it. lemme know what I missed!
authorâs note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise iâll try to switch it up soon and write something that isnât jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3
For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep.Â
The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jacksonâs thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you.Â
It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar.Â
The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos.Â
When Ellie and Joelâs relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot.Â
In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you.Â
Heâs wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often.Â
âWhat are you doing awake?â He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance.Â
You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldnât be able to get out of this situation without a justification.Â
You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. âCanât sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.â
He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. âHowâs that workinâ for you, sweetheart?â
You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again.Â
âHm,â You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, ââWas better when you werenât looking over my shoulder.â
He chuckles, âGet back to bed.â
âI canât, Joel.â
âYou can and will. Youâre no good when youâre tired.â
âIf I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what Iâm doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.â
âYouâre not gonna forget âem with some fresh air. You just need to⊠get over them.â
The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, âAnd how do you get over yours?â
"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."
"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.
âI get it. One day they will subside, Iâm sure of it. But for now, you gotta-â
You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. âYou remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?â
âYeah,â His tone was wary, âWhat about it?â
"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You donât want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I donât like you like that. I never will. That Joel.Â
âAnd? Why are you bringing this up now?â
"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.â
He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you canât help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, heâs only gotten more handsome.Â
But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.
"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.
You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didnât like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.
"I don't know." You manage to say.
Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not.Â
Because in Joelâs mind, heâs trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and thatâs it. Strictly platonic.Â
He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.
"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.
You nod, "I don't know if I want that."
You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed.Â
Joelâs temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked.Â
âWell, what do you want then? Because standinâ at the door and letting all the cold air in ainât gonna work for me or you.â
You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.
"I want to sleep with you."
Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do.Â
He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty.Â
"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.
You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldnât believe you were doing this.Â
Joel couldnât believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you.Â
You signal for him to go upstairs, âYou lead the way.â
-
Joelâs room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in.Â
The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photoâa picture of you and him on some horses from last year.Â
A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joelâs bed if you were stuck on the left.Â
Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him.Â
âUh, can I sleep on that side?â
He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. âMy side? Why?â
You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing.Â
âBecause I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."
Joel wants to laugh, but he doesnât. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection.Â
"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."
You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesnât hate you.Â
âYou could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.â
He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that youâre back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.
But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you.Â
You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.
"Do you sleep on your side or back?"
Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night.Â
"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."
You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"
Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.
"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "ân I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."
You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldnât say them, but your mouth betrays you. Â
"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"
Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.
Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, itâs an interrogation.
He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.
"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.
You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.
"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."
Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.
"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. âYou just canât help yourself, sweetheart.â
He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.
You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. Heâs throwing a wrench in your plans.
"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."
Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.
"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."
You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now.Â
"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."
Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed.Â
"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."
He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.
"Go on..."
Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.
"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."
Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"
Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.
"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified.Â
You mentally slap yourself in the face.
"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."
Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.
"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."
"Yeah, exactly..."
He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.
You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you canât help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.
Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something. He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.
"So⊠ten years and no sex?â
You could seriously, not help yourself.
"Correct.â He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.
"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.â
He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. âWhy would you think that?â
You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But thatâs how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town.Â
âYou just give off the energyâŠâ
âWhat?â
You huff, laying back on the pillow. âI donât know, Joel! I feel like when Iâm around you all the ladies think youâre handsome. They stare.â
âThey are staring because youâre always following me around and we arenât married or⊠together. They think we are odd.âÂ
You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms.Â
But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldnât give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.
âWell fuck âem.â You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.
Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.
You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When heâs finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle.Â
You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter.Â
Itâs the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and thatâs it.
-
When you wake up, itâs slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that youâre laying on top of Joelâs shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy.Â
You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across.Â
His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-
His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles.Â
âMorninâ darlinâ,â He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.
âI didnât have a nightmare.â
His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, âThatâs good kiddo. Iâm glad you slept well.â
The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.
âWoulda slept even better if you didnât talk so much in your sleep.â
Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.
"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.
"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..."Â
You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him.Â
Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you.Â
"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."
You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.
Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him.Â
He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.
"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.
"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you.Â
âYouâre a brat.â
You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly.Â
"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreamsâŠ"
"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"
"So, you don't believe me?"
"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."
"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.
"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlinâ. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."
"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You donât even care that heâs calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful.Â
ââCourse I do.â
You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him.Â
âYou always this nice in the morning?â You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him.Â
But itâs driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.
âI am always nice to you.â
You let out a scoff, âNo, youâre not.â
He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, âNow youâre just lyinâ.âÂ
Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. âNo there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-â
âBecause I am!â
And thereâs the wall. The only constant in you twoâs relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it.Â
âAnd the worldâs fuckinâ ended, Joel! Big deal!â You almost yell, moving your hands from him.Â
Why does he already miss your hands?
He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. âWe have had this conversation for the last 10 years.âM not sure why we keep rehashing it.â
âAnd every time you turn me down itâs another fuckinâ stab in the heart.â
âYou know why we canât,â He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over.Â
âWhatever, Joel.âÂ
As soon as you say it, youâre already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.
Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. Itâs not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live.Â
He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them.Â
You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen.Â
âYou got pat-â
âYes.â You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move.Â
âWho are you-â
âJesse.â
He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer.Â
âHey, can you-â
You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time.Â
âCan I what?â
He rolls his eyes, âCan you fuckinâ not be a brat about this?â
You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor.Â
You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond.Â
âAre you serious, right now?â You press, keeping your voice from cracking.Â
He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. âYou always pull this shit-â
âNo, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckinâ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!â
You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard.Â
The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning.Â
âI ainât tryinâ to make this harder than-â âToo fuckinâ late.â
You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.
He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word.Â
-
All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here.Â
You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him.Â
You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt.Â
You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals.Â
You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom.Â
You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off.Â
You hear Joelâs footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water.Â
When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. Heâs on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. âWhatâs goinâ on?â
He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He canât even be mad that you tracked in mud.Â
He swallows, gripping the cloth heâs using tighter. âYou got mud everywhere.â
You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?
âSorry, I couldâve cleaned it up.â
He returns to wiping the wood, âItâs fine, I got it, kiddo.â
You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joelâs nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest.Â
But itâs been like this all day. Youâre all around him even when youâre not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?
Heâs on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because heâs fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore.Â
Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once heâs not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once heâs thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point?Â
His body was on fire, thinking about you.Â
You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you.Â
You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce heâs in your room, you scream. Loud.Â
âFor cryinâ out loud, woman!âÂ
You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy.Â
âJoel, what the fuck?â You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.
He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. Heâs biting back everything. âCan we talk?â
âTalk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?âÂ
You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. Heâs only really talking about one thing.Â
He scoffs at your last statement. âBoundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.â
Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates.Â
âJoel-â
âI ainât doinâ this back and forth anymore,â He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. âI canât live how I've been livinâ. Somethinâs gotta give.â
You furrow your eyebrows, confused.Â
âYou are the one who wonât give, Joel.â
As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that heâs been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.
His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake.Â
But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences.Â
âJoel, you said we canât-â
âFuck what I said,â He cuts you off, âDo you want this?â
You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you.Â
But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him.Â
Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.
âDarlinâ-â
âYes,â You finally manage. âYes, I do want this.â
Itâs all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies.Â
You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first.Â
His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own.Â
âFuck, you are so beautiful.â
Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful.Â
âI need you,â You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. âRight now.â
He mumbles âjumpâ into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back.Â
He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time.Â
You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. Heâs still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way.Â
He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans.Â
âJoel⊠I-â
He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. Itâs all tongue and teeth like heâs trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body.Â
âGod, I have wanted this for so long,â He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. âBeen wanting this.â
Thatâs when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance.Â
âPlease, Joel.â
He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then.Â
You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan.Â
âYou are divine, baby.â
The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, itâs no longer a laughing matter.Â
He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. âThis all for me?â
âY-yes, Joel.â
âGod, I was a fuckinâ fool for so long. Couldâve had her earlier and I never fuckinâ caved. Such an idiot.â
Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core.Â
âYeah, youâve been missinâ out. Every nightâŠâ You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, âE-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckinâ myself just thinkinâ about you.â
He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. âEvery night, hm, kiddo?â
âGod, yes.â
Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself.Â
His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. Itâs overwhelming and all-consuming.Â
You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you.Â
âThatâs it, baby, sheâs cryinâ for me, hm?â
You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress.Â
âOh my godâŠâ You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.
When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.
âMm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?â
You shake your head. âNever expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.â
âWait âtil you hear what else I got to say.â
He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance.Â
âJoelâŠâ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, âI donât know if it will fit.â
He grins, âIt will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?â
You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his.Â
But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way youâre squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. Itâs the prettiest sight.Â
âReady?â
Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You donât think you have ever been this wet for someone.Â
âOh my fuckinâ god, JoelâŠâ
He smiles as he inches in, âSqueezinâ my cock so good, darlinâ.â
When heâs fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming.Â
Heâs trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes.Â
You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you donât feel like you will completely split in half.Â
He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him.Â
âFuckinâ Christ, girl. I canât believe I was missinâ out on this cunt,â He babbles, âNeed this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.â
You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.
ââM all yours, Joel.â
He smiles, slowing down a bit. âKeep talkinâ like that and âll finish a lot sooner than you.â
You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.
âPlease, Joel,â You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time itâs like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. âIâm gonna cum.â
ââM with you, darlinâ. Soak this dick. Iâm right behind ya.â
His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile.Â
Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.
He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring.Â
âYou okay, kiddo?â He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself.Â
âIâm more than okay.â
He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. Itâs just another thing to hand wash tonight.
Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. Heâs gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.
Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.
So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking.Â
Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to.Â
You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.
âAre you okay?â You pose, scrunching your nose.Â
He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. âI just canât wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.â
tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld
#joel miller tlou#joel miller#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller x afab!reader#joel miller x female reader#pedro pascal#tlou au#tlou fic#tlou smut#joel miller fanfiction#fic: for cryinâ out loud#the last of us smut#gracieheartspedro
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Dream A Little Dream - G.S.
Synopsis. For the strongest, it was a privilege to dream. Especially when his dream is you.Â
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. fem! reader, established relationship, implied sex, fluff, soft and sleepy Satoru, very slight manga spoilers, just Satoru loving on you and your future together.
Word count. 0.8k
A/N. Probably gonna delete. Art by @_3aem on X.
Itâs times like this - when the quiet morning sun is just peeking in through your window, in the still haze of your naked body peacefully intertwined with his that Satoru allows himself to dream.
He dreams of everything - from the strawberry lollipops he snuck into the Gojo Estate as a kid to the time when he forgot Megumi at the mall.Â
But mostly, he dreams of you.
Eyes still veiled with sleep, wandering the expanse of your face, a hand tenderly running along the features heâs mapped a thousand times over. Thumb softly catching on the corner of your mouth, slightly quirked up, he wonders what youâre dreaming of.Â
Do you dream of him too?
Because Satoruâs favorite dream will always be the one with you.Â
Your laughter in the morning light as he smothers you in kisses, how it rings in his ears and carries through his day. If thereâs one thing Satoru knows, itâs that he would burn this entire godforsaken world down to keep it there. Even in the face of violence, his favorite song.
Reaching out to softly kiss your fingers, the hands which hold his heart and his future.Â
Unhurriedly, he caresses that empty spot on your ring finger. Soon.Â
Little black box burning a hole into that hidden corner of his dresser, Satoru absentmindedly wonders whether you would go for a flowing gown or more of a sleek design? He dreams of the delicate lace under his fingers, the gentle sway of the fabric and the blue bouquet to match his eyes.Â
A huff of laughter, followed by a melancholic twinge of his heart, finds its way into the still morning air as he imagines the way Nanamin would have been crying very reluctant tears of joy.
Long fingers deftly run along the expanse of your body, drawing patterns on the marks heâs left to remember him by, resting on your stomach. He dreams of a world where he is there to see you run around with a few white-haired bundles of joy. All of them with your personality of course - he couldnât handle having to fight with some mini versions of himself over you.
And they may be closed for now, but he dreams of the twinkle in your eyes as they meet his, the promise of a beautiful day ahead.Â
He can only pray that they always look at him that way. Even when the shine of your eyes dim with age, the chapters of your story showing on your face. The dream where you two complain about your first gray hairs - him cackling about you finally joining the club.Â
It might not seem like it, but in the blood and merciless gore of jujutsu, a part of the strongest always thinks back to the heaven heâs found in you.Â
The heaven where you both cry over your kids leaving the nest, and later heâd fervently deny his teary eyes - secretly wiping the tears off his glasses.Â
Where you spend quiet evenings on the porch, wrapped in blankets and reminiscing about the adventures of your youth. Did he ever tell you that story where he lost the tickets to a movie and had to sneak into the theater with Shoko and Suguru? Boy, did he get an earful from Yaga that day.
The dream where heâs surrounded by you and all your warmth. In the cold pain that comes with being the strongest, he can only hope that a day will come where his strength - rather than being used to kill - holds your future with ready arms.Â
Ripping his eyes off of your face, they wander the room bathed in the soft morning glow. Mapping the empty spaces which you two would fill with pictures. The walls which would echo with laughter and whisper tales of serenity.
First days at school, graduations, all the friends and foes lost along the years - and one big picture of you in that beautiful white dress, right in the middle. All beauty and grace. His beautiful bride. A dream where his last name is a melody not a death sentence.
He dreams heâs there to fetch your walking cane to stroll through your little garden with a cup of his famous morning tea. Heâd hold your hand as he always does, both trembling and frail with age. He dreams he would kiss the beautiful wrinkles on the corners of your eyes, only for you to push him away bashfully complaining about the grandkids seeing.
Blue eyes faded and the joy of the years showing on his face, not as strong or as vibrant as he once was, limitless nothing more but a trick to make his grandkids smile. Not a weapon, but just your Satoru. He hopes youâll still be there to love him.
And he dreams heâs there.
He wants to be there.Â
âSatoru?â
Satoruâs heart lurches as those beautiful eyes crack open, still foggy with sleep. A glimpse of that smile he found heaven in, and you pull him closer. Understanding. Skin heated against his, no one but you two in this quiet world.
All is well in your little heaven.
Today, the strongest will face Ryomen Sukuna, the fate of the world burdened upon his shoulders. But for now, Satoru is held fragilely in your arms.
For now, he is yours.Â
He only dreams he can be forevermore.Â
A/N. Tony writing something that isnât smut??? The world is coming to an end.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#gojo x reader#gojo fluff#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#tonywrites
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Once upon a dream
Prompt: Itâs difficult to face a coworker you just had a wet dream aboutâŠ
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Rating: mature (18+, minors DNI)
Warnings: light dom/sub dynamic, SoftDom!Spencer, breath play, mating press, fingerfucking, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie
Words: 3.3k
A.N.: Enjoy, my sweet filthy friends. And a big thank you to @ameliemaaaee for beta-reading this.Â
MY MASTERLIST. MY GUIDELINES. SEND A REQUEST. MY TAGLIST.
âIâm so happy that weâre together again.â
Spencerâs arms caged me against his body as his lips captured mine in a breathtaking kiss, full of longing and desire. The familiar sensation of being home settled in my belly and I basked in it, giggling against Spencerâs mouth. I had missed him so much - I hated when I had to stay behind for a case, but it was for my own well-being.
âWe donât need to talk about the case.â
Spencer agreed with a quick nod. âIâm here for something else.â
His hands quickly found the edge of my long shirt and removed it, leaving me bare in front of him. Spencer quickly kissed me again and I wrapped my arms around his neck, leading him to my bedroom.
I couldnât care less about talking that night.
As we walked to my bedroom, my feet were colder than usual against the hard flood - definitely an unusual sign, but I didnât pay too much attention to it. All I could focus on were the skilled hands of the man pressed against me that slid my panties down my thighs, undressing me completely.Â
His hungry eyes roamed all over my body and I gasped when Spencer pushed me onto the bed. His attitude was completely different from the one he usually had in the office, but again, we were not at work at that moment.
âA sight to die for.âÂ
I scoffed, propping myself up on the pillows. âOh, shut up.â
Spencer crawled on top of me, still completely dressed, and nipped at my bottom lip while both his hands dipped on each side of my head. He smelled like vanilla, a different scent than usual - weird, but again, I couldnât care less about it.
âWe have all night.â
âTo sleep?â I asked.
Spencer hummed, running his right hand across my bare chest. âAlso that.â
âWe have work in the morning.â - I responded - âWe have to rest.â
âYeah, whatever. Later.â
Again, it was a weird thing to say for Spencer. I didnât think too much of it, enjoying the way his lips devoured mine in a kiss. All I could think about was the way his toned body, still completely dressed, was towering on top of mine. He kissed me hard, reminding myself that he could easily control me.Â
The desire I felt for him was overwhelming: it made my hands itch, my thighs tremble, my mind going completely empty. There was nothing else in the world I needed more than Spencer at that moment. I needed to feel his weight on my body, his lips on my neck, his hands on my thighs, his cock inside of me and his semen drip between my thighs at the very end.Â
I just needed him to consume me, to make me nothing but his whore.
Spencer pulled away from me and he ran his fingers through his hair, staring down at me. I was pretty sure that I looked wild: my hair was already a mess, my cheeks were burning hot and I was naked. Spencer instead looked beautiful: his hair a mess like mine, his jaw tensed, his eyes with lust flashing behind them.
âLook at you⊠so pretty.â
I whined, grabbing Spencerâs hand and bringing it to my chest. âThank you, but I donât need compliments right now.â
âAnd what else do you need? Do tell.â - he responded, the gleam in his eyes making me whine - âOh, donât be embarrassed. You can tell me anything.â
Shaking my head, I pushed his hand down to reach my breast. Spencer palmed it lightly, still staring at me and waiting for an answer. Despite the obvious aching between my thighs and my desire for him, I was not exactly able to explain to him all the things I had wished heâd do to me. My mind was blank because of him.Â
âYour cock.â
It was the only thing that I could come up with and the answer seemed to have pleased Spencer as he laid on top of me again. He had removed his shirt and his belt, leaving everything on the floor, but I was still bothered by his trousers. I needed to see every inch of his body.Â
Spencer nipped at my bottom lip, then moved down. His tongue caressed the skin of my throat, travelling down to reach the curve between my breasts.
âAh, straight to the point.â - Spencer whispered - âIâll give it to you, my sweet girl.â
Sweet girl. He never called me like that, but I enjoyed the way it rolled off his tongue.Â
His tongue moved across my breasts as Spencerâs eyes focused on my face the whole time. I had never felt this good before, pulling on his curls and moaning his name when his tongue flitted over my right nipple. Spencer was gone the moment he saw my boobs.
His left hand groped my other breast, leaving red marks all across my skin. I arched my back in response to his ministrations, whining with my eyes closed. Spencer was so good to me, but the strong vanilla scent was overwhelming. He wasnât a fan of vanilla, so why did he smell like that?
I forced myself not to think about it, but it was hard.
Spencer closed his mouth around my right nipple and my thoughts disappeared from my head, leaving me crying out a chorus of âyesâ. He silenced me with a bruising kiss, rolling his hips to grind against mine.
âShh, no need to be so loud. Wouldnât want to wake up all the neighbours.â
I moaned on his lips, nodding my head in agreement. In truth, I couldnât care less about my neighbours at that moment: I just needed Spencer to own me, to make me feel good with any part of his body - whichever he preferred.Â
Spencerâs body was flushed to mine and I felt his hard cock against my inner thigh. I gasped and clung to his shoulders, following the rhythm of his hips to feel more and more of him. With his right hand, he yanked my panties down my thighs and threw them somewhere behind him.
âSpread your legs for me, sweet girl.â
I obeyed with no hesitation, opening my legs right in front of him. His eyes followed me down where I needed him to be and he immediately cupped my cunt with the palm of his hand, his middle finger brushing through my folds.Â
âSo wet I could just slip my cock inside of you.â
I bit my bottom lip, focusing my eyes on his face the whole time. The lustful desire burning behind his eyes made my knees tremble. I swore I saw the shadow of a smirk appear on his lips: one of those dark, wicked smirks that turned me on more than anything in the world.
Spencer lowered his head to your chest and nipped at the soft skin right below my nipple, making me shiver. How could he be so addicting? How could he just bring me to the edge of pleasure with a simple bite?
âOr do you want my fingers first, sweet girl?â Spencer asked
I sighed, glancing at his right hand travelling from my throat down to my hip. His fingers are caressing me gently, sending shivers down my spine, and I looked up at him. I wanted whatever he was willing to give me - I truly did not care at all. I just wanted him to find his pleasure within me.
âYes. No. I donât know.â I responded
Spencerâs lips curled into a smile. âFirst thought, best thought.â
He slowly trailed his index finger across my wet folds before pushing it inside of me, slipping it to the knuckle. A quiet gasp fell from my lips and I found myself closing my eyes, relaxing. Spencer used his hand to cup my cunt and pressed his palm against it, massaging my clit with his movements.Â
God, he was so fucking skilled and I had no idea. Was he truly like that or was it just another wet dream I was having?
The answer did not matter. The pleasure did.
âLook at me.â - Spencer warned me - âKeep your eyes open, sweet girl.â
I struggled to obey him, but I did. I opened my eyes and stared at him with my mouth wide open, giving in to the pleasure he brought me. Spencer slipped another finger inside of me and I moaned again, bracing myself to his taut body with both my hands.Â
My fingers dug into his forearm and Spencer whimpered in pain. I didnât mean to scratch him, I didn't mean to hurt him but in that moment I was so caught up in my own pleasure, in my own desire for the man above me that I could not care any less. Spencer was able to make me forget my neighbours, my inexperience and everything that made me insecure.
And when I tried to speak, the pleasure crashed through me. I felt like all the air had been sucked out of my body and the only sound I could hear was the echo of my own pathetic cries as I reached my peak. Spencer allowed me to ride the waves of my orgasm with his mouth peppering kisses all over me and his fingers pumping rapidly, and yet⊠All I could think about was the smug smirk on his lips.
God, did it feel good to make him happy.
âThatâs it. You did so well, my sweet girl. So proud of you.â
Spencer slowly removed his fingers from my cunt and brought them up to his mouth, tasting me. His eyes were still on my face, but mine were down to his body - where his cock was standing, hard and aching.Â
The sight was so erotic it brought me to pull him closer to my body by closing my thighs around his waist. I couldnât wait any longer. I cradled his face in the palm of my hands and I kissed him hard: I tasted myself on his lips and the fire burned even brighter inside of me. Spencer did not hesitate to grab his cock and push it right inside of me, surprising me. I thought that heâd wait a moment, that heâd enjoy my mouth on his but apparently he was just as desperate as I was.Â
The delicious stretch of my body to adjust to his made me whine against his lips, but I never stopped kissing him. Everything that I felt seemed heightened, as if it wasnât even real - I could not believe it was real.
âOh, fuck. I did not know you felt this good around my cock.â Spencer whispered
I felt the pool of heat spread between my thighs as I clung to his body, whining and panting his name over and over like a sacrilegious prayer. Everything felt too good all at once and I did not have the time to register that pleasure because Spencer pulled out of me. The loss made me gasp.
âFuck! No, no. Please.â
I could feel his eyes burning into my skin. âDonât worry, sweet girl. Iâve got you.â
Spencer somehow got even closer to me: his knees pressed to my thighs as his cock pushed inside of me again, finally filling me up to the brim. The pleasure quickly returned to pinch at my belly and I felt overwhelmed.
The way Spencer looked, the desperate sounds he made, the beads of sweat across his forehead, the strength of his arms, the violent grip his fingers had on my thighs⊠There wasnât a single detail of Spencerâs skills and beauty that did not go overlooked. God, he was fucking ethereal and all mine for the night.
Spencer leaned forward, his lips brushing over my right earlobe. âYou take me so well. I might keep you around forever.â
His hands caressed my shins and then Spencer forced my legs upon his shoulders. Surprise was written all over my face, but so were pleasure and a delicious hint of pain that made everything even better. I was caged between his body and the soft mattress underneath me: a position that I did not want to escape from.
Spencer was so deep inside of me that I felt him everywhere. I couldnât even describe the intensity of the pleasure that spread through every inch of my body: it was intoxicating and I never wanted the moment to end.Â
He could keep me like that for as long as he pleased.
His eyes never leave my face. Spencer wanted to see me break down because of him, because of the pleasure that only he could bring to me. And I let him, allowing his fingers to dig into my skin to the point I felt it break.Â
I rested my hands behind his neck, gripping his curls as I let him take all of the pleasure that he could from my body. Thrust after thrust, I felt the tension slowly come to the tipping point.
âSpencer, please. Please, please.â
All we could hear in my bedroom was the pathetic chant of his name falling from my lips and the snapping thrusts that he gave to me. My fingers scratched his neck and I knew that it mustâve hurt him, but I was glad he didnât say anything. Maybe he was too focused on fucking me to care about the drops of blood running down of his back.
âAre you going to come for me, sweet girl? Clench your cunt around my cock?â
His dirty words werenât helping me. The pleasure was almost too much for me to bear and so was the tension that finally exploded. My orgasm rolled in waves through my body, making me arch my back as I whispered his name.Â
Over and over, again, Spencer kissed me as he nursed the second orgasm out of my body with that smug smirk over his lips. He was well aware of the power that he had over me and somehow, he took advantage of it. And, God, did it feel so fucking good to be in his skilled hands.
The pleasure never seemed to end.Â
I was still there in that delicious limbo that made my thighs tremble, but Spencerâs thrusts became sloppy and I could feel him get close to the edge as well. He was whimpering, whispering my name against my lips and his hands were trembling.
âCanât.. I need.. Inside of you.â
I mindlessly nodded my head. âYes. Inside. Please.â
Spencer came inside of me hard, his fingers gripping my thighs so hard that the pain cut through the intense pleasure I was experiencing. His body pressed down against mine, forcing me to take every drop of his essence inside of me like the good girl I was for him.
My thighs were still closed around his waist, hoping that he could not pull away and he did not. He didnât want to, he wanted to give me everything that he could. And he did.
Spencer kissed me again, but it was a messy and sloppy kiss. My body was so exhausted and aching, but somehow my brain was begging for more. I knew it was the beginning of the end, that Spencer was going to leave soon but I didnât want him to.Â
I needed more.Â
Spencer pulled out of my aching body and watched the mess pool down between my thighs, staining the bedsheets underneath me. His lips were still curved into that stupid, smug smirk and I found myself falling for it even harder. How could he be so fucking gorgeous even after fucking me so hard to the point I forgot my own name?
âSo pretty. You did so well for me, sweet girl.â
His praise suddenly soothed the aches in my thighs. âFor you, always.â
Spencer reached out his hand between my thighs and his index collected some of the liquid spilling out from me, a mix of our orgasms. He did not waste any time and he cleaned up his digit.
âSweet.â
I shook my head, covering my face with both hands. âGod, SpencerâŠâ
âStop acting as if you donât like this dirty side of me.â - he teased me, leaving a tentative kiss on my ankle - âI know you love it.â
I didnât respond to him.
âNow sleep, sweet girl. Iâll wake you up in the morning.â
The silence took over the room as Spencer cleaned me up with his fingers and a warm washcloth, a quick reminder that he was still a gentleman. He mightâve fucked me like a whore in the middle of the night, but he was going to treat me like a princess in the morning.Â
Or so I thought.Â
I mustâve fallen asleep in the blink of an eye because when I woke up, the curtains inside my bedroom were slightly opened and a single ray of sun filtered through. It was morning, very early morning.Â
However, everything happened so quickly.
I found myself nestled beneath my warm blanket, completely dressed, and the low sound of music coming from my phone. Confused, I pushed down my own blanket and looked around the room.
Spencer was not there like he promised me heâd be.
What the fuck?
Even more confused than before, I sat up on my bed and looked down. I was still wearing my pyjamas and my underwear; none of the items were broken or ruined by Spencerâs eager fingers to have me. There were no bruises on my thighs, nothing on my neck or my chest either.
What the fuck has happened?
My head hurt as I got up from my bed, trying to understand what had happened the night before. I couldnât recall Spencer ringing the bell of my apartment, but I remembered vividly the way he pressed me down onto the bed and fucked into me like a mad man.
It couldnât have just been a dream. Could it?
Sighing, I took my time in the shower. The memories in my mind were simply a dream; a manifestation of the desire I felt for Spencer and that I was yet to confront. But how could I prove that? I couldnât just call Spencer and ask him about the previous night. I didnât want him to think I was weird.
And then, my heart dropped. How in the world was I going to face him at work?
However, I needed to. It wasnât professional to call my boss and ask them to give me a day off just because I had a wet dream about a colleague. So, I put on my best smile and got ready for the day.
As I went up in the elevator, I kept checking my neck for bruises or bite marks. Spencer bit me and grabbed my flesh hard, violently, possessively. It was impossible that my skin wasnât hurt or didnât have some kind of mark. However, there was nothing. As if nothing happened the previous night. Maybe it was all a fucking dream.Â
A good dream, at least.Â
I just needed to get over it.Â
It wasnât the first time that I had a wet dream, but it certainly was the first time that I remembered it so vividly and left me questioning my reality. Also, it was the first wet dream about a colleague which made it even weirder.Â
âGood morning everyone!â
Spencerâs familiar voice almost made me collapse down on my knees. I saw him walking inside the office with that usual adorable smile on his face and a familiar pink box in his hands. He brought everyone breakfast. It wasnât unusual for him, but that smile⊠and the look on his face made me think that something mightâve happened to him.Â
He was unusually chirpy. And most importantly, he wasnât drinking coffee.Â
âHi Spencer.â I managed to say
Spencer walked past me. His smile turned into a smirk.Â
âGood morning, sweet girl.â
Oh, fuck.
Remember that if you asked to be on my taglist, you can easily help me gain visibility with a like, a comment or a simple reblog. If you donât, youâre asking me to include you while getting nothing in return. If you want to be removed from the taglist, just dm me. Taglist: @reidselle @alelaeljfj @blvebanisters @Koukatsuki @donttrustlove @moesdraft @r-3dlips @alicentswife @singinghamtaro-blog @Florebore @Topguncultleader @frutilooplupin @mags11 @myoui-me @iluvreid @slaygirl466 @Kikista @icarusgold @pleasantwitchgarden @ohdearlordspencerreid @cherrqblssms @lover-of-books-and-tea @elizabethmidnight2017 @spencerssoup @emmy-reid2627 @winkev1 @benji-screem
#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid smut fanfic#spencer reid smut fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfic
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Actress reader and Actor Bakugou have to enact a sex scene. Of course they've got one of those little modesty covers for his dick and for you but you'll still look naked in the shot.
But there is just something about the way that he's grinding into you, his cock hard from the action of course and since your characters hate each other (just like in real life) it's supposed to be a rough passionate scene, it's hate fucking after all! Your moaning only gets louder the more he "fucks" into you echoing around the studio with tons of people looking over the two of you but his eyes are trained on you and when he thinks he hears something a little more than the over the top obvious fake sounds your character is meant to give, when it ebbs into something real (fake to real sounds per the script) he gets a little too into his character.
"That's right, take it, take this cock. Mould to me so that every other man knows that you're mine and mine alone, princess."
"You'll have to fuck me harder than that to make me cum, prince." Spitting back the title his character so hates and the nickname you've come to call him off set and in interviews if only to burrow under his skin. His eyes flash with anger and for a moment you think you've regained control.
But his thrusts come harder after that and suddenly you're trying to cover your face with your arms but he moves to pin them to the plush pillow over head. His voice rough, deep, panting out in such a mind numbing growl.
"No, I want to see the exact moment I ruin you."
Covered cock somehow grinding against your clothed slit just right, your clit throbs from the repeated action, making you lock your ankles around his waist.
Head thrown back to expose your throat that he comes down to bite as he "cums" just as he's supposed to although the lines were wholly improvised. Shuddering over top of you with his tongue lapping up the rough teeth marks he's left on your pretty skin. Pulling away to grab your jaw roughly, rutting into you with pained groans as his tongue slips into your mouth "prolonging" your release and his.
"CUT!" Comes the doctor's voice, slicing through the tension reminding you both exactly where you are. Bakugou pulls away but not too quickly, grabbing at the blankets to cover you even if the whole world was going to see your tits bouncing from his rough thrusts thanks to the network allowing borderline soft core porn on air.
"Let's take fifteen to review and recenter!" Comes the directors sharp voice and so Bakugou helps you up on shaking legs, pressing you into his side as he walks around in nothing but that "modesty" covering.
"Wow! That seemed so real you did the fake to real moaning so well!" People linger to pass you compliments until they see Bakugou snarling down at them, rushing away from the always grumpy actor. He makes sure you're sat on the couch in your dressing room, both of you lock eyes for a moment and it's obvious by his smirk that this jackass can't help but stroke his own ego.
"Ya that sure was a performance from you, ya know I almost would have thought it was real, princess." He mocks you, giving you some knowing look as your cheeks still burn from how good he was from grinding alone.
"In your fuckin dreams Prince." He can only suck his teeth and chuckle darkly at your retort. Going to cup his fat length and sac, a squishing sound can be heard and it makes you hyper aware of the wetness between your thighs. He pulls away his hand slowly, silvery strings connect to the thin fabric and his fingers before they snap and he looks up at you. Smiling devilishly, palming his damp cock sticky from more than just you but you don't have to know that.
"Then I must be dreaming huh?"
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
đ đ đĄđČđ¶đŽđ”đŻđŒđđż đ¶đ đź đŁđŒđżđ»đđđźđż
Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Sexual Innuendo/humour,Guy next door, situational comedy? If you're not up for a few second-hand embarrassment sit this one out lol. Summary: Your coworker peer pressured you to look up SergeantBarnes in Pornhub, reason? Because apparently you're missing out. A/N: This would make a good mini series. . .but we'll see. I had a dream. . .that he was a guy next door, just wanted to-of course-add a twist to it asdfghjkl.
It was all Amyâs fault. And Trishâs. And okay, maybe you shared a little bit of the blame for caving to the intense peer pressure at work. But still.
Youâd been minding your own business in the break room, scrolling through lunch menus, when Amy had sidled up, leaned in with that conspiratorial look on her face, and whispered, âHave you seen him yet?â
âSeen who?â your eyebrows creased as you asked, confused.
Trish popped up out of nowhere, clutching her latte in her hand. âGirl, SeargentBarnes. The guy is legendaryâI mean, a literal internet icon.â
You shrugged, feigning indifference while they exchanged a look that practically screamed, amateur. They started talking all at once, dropping cryptic phrases like âtoo hot to handle,â âyouâre gonna die,â and, âyouâll never look at men the same way again.â
So there you were that night, alone with your laptop, curled up in bed and biting your lip as you debated whether to type it in. Itâs just curiosity, you reasoned. Research purposes.
Your eyes widened as the screen filled with⊠well, humanity, in all its naked, unfiltered glory. Your face heated up so fast you couldâve sworn it was the same shade as your throw pillow. Videos lined up like some weird buffet, titles more scandalous than anything youâd ever whispered in confession, and⊠was that a whole category devoted to delivery men? You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop from yelping, mortified at the intensity of it all.Â
âI need to go to church after this,â you muttered, squinting like that would somehow censor the thorough dedication people were showing in their, uh, procreation endeavors.
âSergeantBarnes,â you muttered to yourself as you typed, fingers hovering uncertainly over the Enter key. Then, with a sigh, you hit search, and⊠oh.
You nearly choked on oxygen. Because there he was, in HD glory, right on Pornhub, with that cocky grin and those blue eyes that looked like theyâd been crafted in a lab. And he wasnât just standing there looking smugâoh, no, he was on a mission, shirtless, flexing, and smirking at the camera like he was the worldâs best-kept secret. The scene panned to him sitting on the edge of a bed, peeling off his belt with one hand, a glint in his eyes that seemed to say, this is what you came for.
âOh my god,â you muttered, equal parts horrified and morbidly fascinated, as he proceeded to⊠well, get very familiar with his costar. SergeantBarnes was apparently an expert at multitasking, using every muscle, every inch of his well-equipped arsenal. And the way he was delivering lines? He was clearly treating the camera like it was his soulmate.
By minute two, your jaw had dropped. By minute five, youâd set the laptop on your nightstand to âwatch responsibly.â By minute ten, you were convinced Amy and Trish had permanently ruined your life.
And the costarâshe was practically putting on an Oscar-worthy performance, her reactions so intense you half expected her to start speaking in tongues. Every time SergeantBarnesâs⊠rod of justice plunges deep inside, she gasps like she was witnessing a miracle. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Come on, is that really necessary?
As you watched, he gave a low, rumbling soundâhalf growl, half sighâthat sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. His gaze burned through the screen with a confidence that was practically magnetic, and suddenly, you understood exactly why the costar was gasping. A new, unbidden heat pooled between your legs, making you shift uncomfortably, instinctively pressing your thighs together as if that could somehow stop the flush creeping up your face. Oh no, now I wish I were her, you thought, immediately cringing at yourself.
With a mix of half-laughter and half-horror, you reached over and slammed the laptop shut so fast it was like you were trying to save yourself from spontaneous combustion.Â
âHolyâoh, wow,â you whispered, pressing a hand to your face. âOkay. That was a one-time thing.â
Or so you thought.
Except now, every time you even glanced at your laptop, SergeantBarnes was right there in your mind, reminding you exactly why he was internet-famous. It was becoming a bit of a problem.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
The next morning, you stumbled out of your apartment, looking like something that had been left out in the rain and dragged through a blender, mentally cursing last nightâs âresearchâ session. The world had no right to be this bright, and your regret levels were at an all-time high as you lugged the worldâs heaviest box down the hallway.
You were so absorbed in avoiding a complete breakdown that you barely registered the deep, too-familiar voice beside you.
âNeed help with that?â
âThanks, but I got it,â you muttered automatically, barely sparing him a glance.
Except...then you did.
You looked up, squinting in confusion. Because, standing in front of you, in the perfectly mundane hallway of your perfectly mundane building, was him.
You froze, your brain spinning like a buffering screen. Okay, this guyâs insanely handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, stubbled jaw, eyes so blue they should have a health warning on them. You stared, mentally cataloging each feature, whenâwait a minute... WAIT. A. MINUTE.
Your eyes narrowed, suspicion prickling as your brain finally fired up. Is thatâŠ? No, it canât be.
But it was. Oh, it absolutely was.Â
SergeantBarnes, the very star of last nightâs âeducationalâ viewing, right here in the flesh. And suddenly, like a tractor beam had locked onto you, your gaze dropped right to his crotch, where youâd witnessed things you could never un-see.
This, of course, did not go unnoticed. His brows shot up as he followed your very obvious, very treacherous line of sight, glancing down at his jeans before looking back up at you with an infuriatingly smug grin.
âUh⊠nice shoes?â you blurted out, your face feeling like it was on fire. You vaguely gestured to his boots, wishing you could vanish right into the walls.
âThanks,â he replied smoothly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. âTheyâre pretty sturdy. But, you knowâŠâ He paused, his voice dropping just a hair. âI donât think theyâre what you were looking at.â
Your heart sank as you forced yourself to look up, his amused blue eyes practically laughing at you. Abort. Abort mission. Oh God, we are way past mission failure.
âUhâno, I just⊠umâŠâ You floundered, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that might save you from the hole youâd dug. But no words came. Not even the faintest semblance of a coherent thought. Just one long, silent scream echoing in your brain.
âBucky,â he offered helpfully, sticking out his hand like he wasnât SergeantBarnes from Pornhub, but just some guy offering to help with a box. âNew neighbor, by the way.â
You stared at his hand like it was a booby trap, your brain short-circuiting as it reminded you exactly where those fingers had been. That hand had gripped⊠things. It had been places youâd only dreamed of, doing things youâd probably need a core workout just to survive. You could practically see the âviewer discretion advisedâ warning flashing in your head as you hesitated, still staring at his hand as if it might explode.
But, against your better judgmentâand every shred of dignityâyou slowly reached out and shook it, feeling your own fingers betray you by sweating as they made contact with his very⊠experienced ones.
âUh⊠hi⊠Iâm⊠yep.â you blurted, mentally cringing.
ââYepâ? Thatâs a good name,â he said, smirking as he let go. âYou sure you donât need help? You seem⊠a little flustered.â
Flustered? Understatement of the century. If your dignity had been a cup, it was empty, bone-dry, and cracked. You forced yourself to focus, eyes straight forward, pointedly ignoring the very tempting crotch-level view.Â
âIâm fine! Totally fine!â you squeaked, cringing at your own voice. Oh God, calm down!
But he just chuckled, that same dangerously cocky smile from last night plastered all over his face. âAlright, Yep. Guess Iâll see you around.â
As he turned to leave, you stood there in the hallway, clutching the box like it was a life raft, heart racing a mile a minute. Youâd just had a very public staring incident with SergeantBarnes, your new neighbor, and all youâd managed to say was nice shoes.
Iâm gonna need new coworkers, you thought, practically burying your face in the box as you scurried to your apartment.
The door slammed shut with a bang that could probably be heard across state lines. You dropped the box unceremoniously, ignoring the loud thunk as it hit the floor, and whipped your phone out, fingers flying across the screen like you were composing a manifesto.
Guys, youâre NEVER gonna guess who my neighbor isâ
You paused, staring at the screen as the rest of the text formed in your mind: THE SergeantBarnes. LIVE. IN. THE. FLESH.
But then another thought stopped you dead in your tracks. Oh no.
You could already picture it: Amy and Trish showing up like rabid fangirls in their âI Heart SergeantBarnesâ merch, carrying suspiciously flimsy plates of brownies. Trish would have binoculars. Amy would be taking notes, probably trying to âaccidentallyâ leave her phone number under his door. You shuddered, imagining them cornering him by the mailboxes, all of them acting like they were definitely not the type of women who had his entire catalog bookmarked on their phones.
A horrible realization hit you. If I tell them, this manâs gonna be living a nightmare right next door to me. Not just a nightmare, a Trish-and-Amy-sponsored fan club nightmare, where they might even break into songâprobably chanting, âSergeantBarnes! SergeantBarnes!â while he tries to get his groceries.
You looked back at your unsent message and deleted it in one go, feeling weirdly proud of yourself. Yeah, no. Iâm not letting them anywhere near him.
Totally altruistic, of course. It had nothing to do with keeping the eye candy to yourself.
You took a deep breath, looking around your empty apartment like you were expecting the FBI to burst through the door at any second. Sure, youâd just been in the hallway with the actual SergeantBarnes, but maybe⊠maybe you were imagining things. It had been a long day. Moving was stressful. Stranger things had happened, right?
With a surge of resolve (and denial), you dashed to your bedroom, practically sliding across the floor as you went. Your laptop was waiting innocently on the nightstand, and with a quick glance over your shoulder to ensure you were still alone, you opened it up, clicked incognito mode like you were hiding state secrets, and went straight to the website youâd sworn off only hours ago.
âAlright⊠just to confirm,â you muttered to yourself, feeling your cheeks burn as you typed SergeantBarnes into the search bar, mentally bracing yourself for the flood of results.
And there he was. The whole page filled with him, in various⊠positions. You swallowed, scrolling until one video caught your eye: âSergeant Disciplines the Bratty Recruit.â
You snorted, almost slamming the laptop shut. âOh, for heavenâs sakeâŠâ
But curiosity was a dangerous beast, and before you could talk yourself out of it, your finger had already clicked play.
The video started, with SergeantBarnes in all his glory, wearing what looked like the worldâs tightest military uniform. His face was as smug as ever, that telltale glint of mischief in his eyes as he muttered something absurd like, âThink you can handle me, recruit?â
âOh my god,â you whispered, cringing as you half-covered your eyes but peeked through your fingers anyway.
But there was no denying itâthe face, the voice, the ridiculous, smoldering look into the camera. There was no escaping it now. It was 100% him. The same guy who was now living approximately ten feet away from your own front door.
As the video continued, your disbelief only grew. This man⊠this man is next door, could eating cereal right now, you thought, torn between horrified fascination and the urge to laugh. Because there he was, in full âdisciplinary actionâ mode, doing things you could barely process, and here you were, watching it again, just to make sure it was really him.
âOh, Iâm doomed,â you muttered, slapping the laptop shut. You werenât even sure if you were embarrassed, impressed, or maybe just a little terrified of your own neighbor.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
Over the next few days, it was like living in a twisted sitcom. Everywhere you went, he was there, lurking like some kind of sexy, mildly inconvenient specter. It was uncanny. Youâd turn a corner, and bamâthere heâd be, giving you that polite nod and a smirk that clearly said, I know exactly what youâve seen.
It started small. Youâd step into the elevator, praying for a peaceful ride, and ding! in heâd stroll, flashing that devastating grin. Instantly, youâd stiffen, gluing yourself to the opposite wall, practically trying to meld with the buttons, heart pounding like you were about to pass out. You couldnât even look him in the eye without flashes of his, uh, âfilmographyâ playing in your mind. Every single time, without fail, you found yourself studying the very clean floor of the elevator as he leaned casually against the wall, the corners of his mouth tugging up.
âNice day, isnât it?â heâd ask, all smooth, innocent charm. Meanwhile, you were there like, Oh, totally, perfect day to run into my favorite Pornhub star.
You were in the laundry room, blissfully alone, humming to yourself as you separated your clothes like a responsible adult. Whites here, colors there, delicatesâwell, you were kind of just tossing them wherever at this point. Then, suddenly, you felt it: a shift in the air, a presence. You froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing up, a sock suspended mid-toss in your hand. Why do I feel like the music should be getting dramatic right about now?
Slowly, as if sensing his approach, you turned. And there he wasâBucky, striding in with a laundry basket filled with a suspiciously pristine pile of perfectly folded, incredibly manly clothing. It was as if heâd just stepped out of some kind of⊠laundry commercial. Or worse⊠one of his own videos.
You blinked, eyes widening as a thousand clichés suddenly flashed through your mind. Oh no, why does this feel like the start of a porn? you thought, biting your lip as you realized the two of you were, in fact, very alone, surrounded by washing machines and suspiciously warm lighting. You mentally kicked yourself. Snap out of it! This is laundry. Regular, boring laundry.
Bucky caught your eye, giving you an amused once-over. âDoing some laundry?â he asked, his voice low and casual, but somehow it felt like the most suggestive question in the world.
You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. âUh-huh,â you managed, trying to sound like a normal human being. âJust, uh⊠laundry.â
Your face felt like it was on fire as you realized half of your load was underwear, strewn everywhere. Panties, bras, socksâthey were all there in their mismatched glory, practically screaming, Weâre personal items! Pay extra attention! You yanked your gaze away from the pile, mortified, and flung the sock into the washer like you were trying to disarm a bomb.
You slammed the washer lid down, feeling like youâd just revealed way too much. But Bucky only grinned, strolling over with that maddening swagger. He tossed a shirt into the washer beside you, leaning against it with a smirk.
âNice sorting skills,â he commented, eyes flicking down to the very obvious pile of bras and lace that youâd tried to hide. âVery⊠thorough.â
âYep!â you squeaked, feeling like you might explode. You fumbled with the detergent bottle, struggling to open it as your brain went into full-blown panic mode. Why does this feel like one of those videos? Donât look at him. Just donât look. Pretend youâre alone. Pretend this is fine.
But of course, he wasnât making it any easier. He folded his arms, watching you with a raised brow, the picture of calm while you were desperately trying to load underwear without dying of embarrassment.Â
âYou know,â he said, clearly holding back a laugh, âusually people try to separate colors from whites.â
âOh, I do! I mean, I⊠itâs a system,â you stammered, feeling like you were caught in a lie by the laundry police. âSometimes itâs⊠itâs an artistic choice.â
He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with that insufferable amusement. âArtistic laundry, huh? Didnât take you for the experimental type.â
âYep,â you said, forcing a laugh as you stuffed in the last sock, your hands moving at lightning speed, desperate to finish and escape.
But as you turned to leave, he held up a stray bra that had somehow escaped your grasp, dangling it between two fingers with a raised eyebrow.Â
âYou forgot this,â he said, voice dripping with that same mischievous humor.
You stared at the bra in horror, feeling your face go molten.Â
âUh⊠thanks,â you mumbled, practically ripping it out of his hand and stuffing it into the washer, slamming the lid down one last time before you spun on your heel and speed-walked out of there.
Behind you, you heard him chuckle softly, his voice echoing in the hallway. âSee you around, neighbor.â
Yep, you thought, already halfway down the hall, never doing laundry again.
By day three, it got ridiculous. Youâd ducked into the mailroom, hoping he was out doing normal human thingsâmaybe mowing a lawn or whatever. But no, as soon as you opened your mailbox, there he was, standing by his own, sorting through a stack of letters. You froze, briefly considering whether you could just flee and come back later for your electric bill.
And then⊠the grocery bag incident.
You were in the hallway, arms overloaded with bags because, naturally, youâd ignored the cart right by the entrance and had instead decided to carry it all in one go. You were so close to your door when you heard footsteps behind you.
âNeed help?â he asked, that voice making you nearly fumble every bag in your arms.
You turned, scrambling to say, âNo, Iâm good,â but of course, in your panic, one of your bags tipped, and a lone, horrifying item fell out and hit the floor. You watched, paralyzed, as the little bottle of lube rolled out with an audible clatter, spinning lazily to a stop right in front of him.
You could practically feel the heat exploding from your cheeks. No. Oh no. Not like this.
You looked up, meeting his amused, slightly raised eyebrows as his lips twitched, clearly fighting a smile.Â
âUh,â you choked out, unable to form a single coherent sentence. Think fast, make it sound normal, you told yourself, even though every possible explanation was racing out of your head.
He bent down, picking up the bottle with a glint of pure mischief in his eyes, inspecting it like heâd just found evidence of some grand crime.
âHey, everyoneâs got needs,â he said, deadpan, but that twinkle in his eye was anything but innocent. âDonât worry.â He tossed you a wink, handing the bottle back like it was no big deal.
Your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as your brain scrambled to form a sentence. Finally, the words tumbled out like a train wreck, your dignity left somewhere back at the grocery store.
âItâs⊠itâs for my friend,â you squeaked, clutching the lube bottle with both hands like it was a sacred artifact. He raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too entertained for your liking. âSheâs, uh, sheâs constipated.â
A moment of silence.
âShe needs it to⊠you know, help with a suppository.â You forced a grin that you were sure looked more like a grimace. âShe, uh⊠canât get things moving. Really jammed up in there.â
Buckyâs face twisted in barely suppressed laughter, and his shoulders shook as he struggled to keep a straight face.Â
âRight,â he drawled, nodding with an expression that was one part pity and two parts are you for real? âThatâs⊠thoughtful of you.â
You felt like you were overheating, a human furnace on the verge of combustion.Â
âSheâs desperate!â you blurted, doubling down on your ridiculous story, even though every fiber of your being was screaming to stop talking. âIâm just being a good friend, you know? Supportive. I mean, sheâs the one whoâs backed up.â
He nodded again, still fighting a smile, the look in his eyes a mix of amusement and something else that made your pulse race.Â
âSure,â he said, ânothing like helping a friend in need.â He paused, that wicked smile growing as he added, âIn my experience, though, there are plenty of other uses for it.â
Your soul left your body.
He held out his hands in mock innocence, chuckling as your eyes widened to saucers.Â
âJust saying,â he winked. âVersatile stuff.âÂ
And with that, he turned, strolling down the hall with a casual wave, leaving you frozen and mortified, clutching the bottle to your chest like a lifeline.
âGotta⊠go,â you managed, voice barely a whisper, stumbling the last few steps to your door as you fumbled with the keys, practically falling inside.
The second the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, staring at the ceiling and whispering, âIâm never leaving my apartment again.â
Just as you were about to bury your face in your hands and live in the sweet, silent embrace of shame, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out, still reeling from the lube disaster, and saw a text from your friend, Clara.
Clara: Hey!! Did you get the lube?? Need it ASAP, things are⊠not moving over here, if you catch my drift.
You groaned, staring at the message, letting it sink in that yes, this entire disaster had been real.Â
You: Yes. Got it. Never speaking of this again.
Clara: Bless you, you lifesaver. My digestive system owes you a standing ovation.
You rolled your eyes, still red-faced. Clara had no idea youâd just had to explain the entire situation to your painfully attractive neighborâwho now likely thought you were a walking sitcom.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
It started subtlyâjust a little teasing, or so you thought. But it quickly spiraled into a game you could only describe as Bucky Barnes: Merciless TeasingâExtended Cut. Every time you crossed paths, he managed to twist the knife just a little deeper, making you sweat, stumble, and practically choke on your own words.
The first time it happened, you were hauling a huge box out of your car, trying to look capable and independent, when he strolled up beside you, leaning against the car with a smirk.
âYou act like Iâm a celebrity,â he said, eyebrow cocked. âEvery time you see me, you look ready to run.â
You fumbled, nearly dropping the box.Â
âNope! Iâm justâŠuh, busy!â you squeaked, scrambling to walk away at top speed, box clutched to your chest like a shield. But you caught his laugh as you rushed off, making you want to evaporate on the spot.
The next time, you were in the stairwell, headphones in, desperately trying to avoid any more awkward run-ins. Naturally, the moment you looked up, there he was, lounging at the landing like some kind of paid actor in a commercial. You froze mid-step as he raised a brow.
âLook at that,â he said, giving you the once-over, âyou look like youâve seen a ghost every time you see me. Is it something I did?â
You stammered, turning pink.Â
âNo! Just, uh⊠headphones! Music! Loud music!â you blurted, before speed-walking up the stairs, praying he didnât hear the Spice Girls song youâd been blasting. Behind you, his chuckle echoed up the stairwell like the final taunt of a villain.
But the absolute worst came at the coffee shop.
You were in line, looking at your phone, hoping you could just breeze in and out. The moment you placed your order and turned to leave, there he was, standing right behind you, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
âHey, neighbor,â he drawled, eyeing your coffee cup like it was some incriminating evidence. âFunny running into you here. Or⊠do you keep running into me?â
Your face flushed, and you tried to think of something clever, but it was like all your brain cells had gone on vacation.Â
âNope! Definitely just getting coffee! I donât even⊠live near here!â you babbled, immediately regretting everything.
âOh, interesting,â he replied, his grin widening. âBecause I could swear you live right next door. But hey, if you want to keep pretending you donât know me, Iâll go along with it.â He handed you your coffee with a wink. âSee you around⊠or not.â
But things took a turn for the mortifying when, one evening, you were pacing the hallway on the phone with Clara, trying to vent without actually collapsing in a pile of awkwardness.
âItâs him, Clara!â you hissed, oblivious to the fact that you were pacing right outside Buckyâs door. âIâm living next door to SergeantBarnes! Can you believe this? Iâve seen everything he has to offer! Iâve practically studied him!â
Clara was howling with laughter, but you were too wrapped up in your frustration to care.
âAnd he knows, Clara! He keeps showing up everywhere, saying stuff like, âYou seem nervousâ and âYou keep looking at me like you know something I donât.â I swear, heâs doing it on purpose!â You paused, sighing dramatically. âThe man is basically torturing me!â
âYeah?â Clara snorted. âAnd what are you gonna do about it?â
âNothing! Iâm gonna hide in my apartment forever! I mean, the guy isââ You froze mid-sentence, sensing a presence that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Please, for the love of all that is holy, no.
You slowly turned, and there he was. Bucky. Leaning against his door, arms crossed, looking like heâd just won the freaking lottery.
âOh⊠my godâŠâ you whispered, feeling your soul leave your body. He was watching you with an expression of pure, unfiltered amusement, one eyebrow quirked, lips pulled into that infuriating, knowing smirk.
âWell,â he said, voice laced with mischief. âThat makes one of us.â His eyes glinted with barely-contained laughter. âAnd here I thought you were just a fan of my boots.â
You could practically feel your brain cells going up in smoke.Â
âI⊠uh⊠well⊠IâŠâ you stammered, cheeks burning. âBoots⊠are great,â you managed, wanting to sink into the earth.
âYeah? Because I seem to remember you looking⊠elsewhere last time,â he teased, stepping a little closer, enjoying every second of your embarrassment.
âOh, no! Just⊠boots!â you squeaked, backing up, practically tripping over yourself. âI really should go⊠water my⊠uh⊠plants!â
He chuckled, savoring every second of your panic. âGood luck with that,â he said, throwing in one last wink as he slipped back into his apartment, leaving you in the hallway, feeling like youâd just gone through a slow-motion car crash.
Back in your apartment, you slid down the door, hands over your face as Claraâs laughter erupted over the phone.
âBoots?â she howled. âTHATâS what you went with? Boots?â
You groaned, banging your head back against the door. âShut up, Clara.â
Ă Ă Ă Ă
Determined to reclaim a shred of your dignity, you strode into the local coffee shop, praying for a quiet morning with zero embarrassing encounters. But, as if on cue, the universe had other plans.
There, right at the counter, was Bucky. He spotted you instantly, his face lighting up with that all-too-familiar grin that had haunted your dreams. There was no escape.
He waved you over, and before you could even think of pretending you hadnât seen him, he was calling out, âMorning, neighbor! Whatâs your coffee order again?â His voice was loud enough that half the shop turned to look.
âOh, um⊠itâsâŠâ you stammered, but heâd already waved to the barista.
âGot it covered,â he said, leaning casually against the counter, eyes twinkling with mischief. âIâve got a feeling you like it with extra cream.â
You choked on your own saliva, feeling your face turn crimson as he handed you the cup with a wink.Â
âUnless Iâm wrong?â he added with a smirk, feigning innocence.
âN-Nope, thatâs right!â you managed, grabbing the cup like it was a shield. âExtra cream⊠perfect.â
He chuckled, gesturing to an empty booth in the corner. âGreat. Then you wonât mind sitting down with me for breakfast.â
âOh no, really, I shouldââ
He raised an eyebrow. âWhat, got somewhere better to be?â
You froze, helplessly aware that the entire coffee shop was listening in. You managed a nervous laugh, mumbling, âWell⊠no, I guess notâŠâ
Before you knew it, you were sitting across from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes anywhere but his face, your cheeks burning as he sipped his coffee and watched you with a smug smile.
âSo,â he said, leaning forward, âwhatâs a girl like you doing watching a guy like me online, anyway?â
Your jaw dropped, coffee cup halfway to your mouth. âIâI wasnât watchingâIt was research!â you spluttered, already kicking yourself for falling right into his trap.
He chuckled, clearly reveling in your embarrassment.Â
âOh, sure, âresearch,ââ he said, nodding like he totally believed you. âI get it. You know, itâs important to be informed.â
You practically shrank into your seat, glancing around to see if anyone else had heard. âCould you not say that so loudly?â
He smirked, taking a long, deliberate sip of his coffee.Â
âRelax, Iâm just curious,â he said, leaning in close enough that you could smell his aftershave. âGotta say, itâs a little flattering to have a fan right next door.â
Your brain completely short-circuited. âFan? Iâno! I mean, not like that⊠I⊠I barely evenâŠâ You could feel the lie crumbling in your throat as his smirk deepened.
âUh-huh. Then why did you look like you were about to sprint every time you saw me?â He tilted his head, studying you, eyes twinkling. âAnd I swear you turned pink the second you walked in here.â
Your hands shot up, covering your cheeks. âI did not! Youâre imagining things.â
âAm I?â he said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. âBecause itâs like clockwork. Every time Iâm around, you look like youâve been caught red-handed. I donât mind, you know,â he added, shrugging nonchalantly. âIâve got nothing to hide.â
You let out a strangled laugh, ready to crawl under the table.Â
âThatâs⊠obvious,â you muttered, feeling as though you might combust at any second.
âOkay, so since weâre having breakfast together, how about you tell me: any favorite scenes?â He laughed, looking entirely too amused as he stirred his coffee.
You practically choked on your coffee, face flaming as you tried to hide behind your cup.Â
âIâI canât believe you just asked that!â you squeaked, horrified and unable to meet his gaze.
âOh, come on,â he grinned, clearly enjoying every second. âItâs just small talk. I mean, who better to ask than a neighbor?â
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. âCan we please pretend this conversation never happened?â
âNope. Canât do that,â he replied, laughing. âI think itâs a little late for that.â
Just as you were starting to pray for an earthquake to swallow you whole, you glanced up at him, cheeks still flaming.Â
âDid you⊠did you know I recognized you this whole time?â
He leaned back, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.Â
âOf course I did,â he said, laughing. âFigured it out the second I saw that look on your face. I just wanted to see if youâd ever bring it up.â
âOh my god,â you muttered, feeling mortification seep into your very bones. âAnd you kept messing with me?â
âOf course,â he said, raising an eyebrow with a wicked grin. âI was just waiting to see how long it would take for you to crack. Guess now the ice is broken, huh?â
You couldnât help but laugh, shaking your head. âYouâre the worst.â
He winked, finishing his coffee. âYeah, but I make breakfast interesting, donât I?â
You laughed, feeling the last traces of embarrassment fade awayâwell, at least enough to breathe normally again. But just as you started to feel almost⊠comfortable, Bucky tilted his head, giving you a curious look.
âSo, neighbor,â he said, smirking, âIâve gotta ask⊠whatâs your name?â
You blinked, realizing with a jolt that youâd never actually told him. In all your attempts to dodge, deflect, and survive the relentless teasing, you hadnât even bothered to introduce yourself.
âOh⊠right,â you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up again. âI, uh, guess I never actually said.â
âNope,â he replied, leaning in with a grin. âI just assumed you wanted to keep a little mystery between us.â
You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. âTrust me, Iâm not that mysterious.â
âReally?â he replied, eyebrows raised. âBecause all this time Iâve been calling you âYep.ââ
Your face went red as you remembered the first time youâd stammered a barely coherent âyepâ instead of an introduction. âOh my god. You havenât been calling me that in your head this whole time, have you?â
He shrugged, smirking. âItâs kind of cute. Suits you, actually.â
You groaned, but laughed despite yourself, finally holding out your hand across the table. âAlright. Iâm Y/N. Officially.â
âY/N,â he repeated, taking your hand, his grip warm and firm. His smirk softened into something a little more genuine. âGood to meet you, Y/N. Officially.â
His hand lingered in yours for a beat longer than necessary, and for a moment, there was no teasing, no innuendosâjust the two of you, sitting across the table, smiling like two normal people whoâd just met under⊠semi-normal circumstances.
Then, just as you were starting to think maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this weirdly charming neighbor situation, he leaned back, that mischievous glint creeping back into his eyes.
âNow that weâre on a first-name basis,â he said, winking, âyou can tell me all about your favorite scenes. You know, for professional feedback.â
You burst out laughing, face in your hands as he watched you with a triumphant grin. Yep, you thought, already regretting nothing and everything.
#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagines#winter soldier imagines#winter solider x reader#winter soldier x you#winter soldier x y/n#the winter soldier x reader#the winter soldier#winter soldier x female reader#winter soldier fanfiction#winter soldier fic#winter soldier fanfic#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan characters#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan fanfiction#the winter solider x reader#the winter soldier x you#james barnes x you#james barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james barnes x y/n#james barnes
692 notes
·
View notes
Text
Prince of Monaco
Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco
Summary: what better way for the honorary Prince of Monaco to celebrate finally winning his home race than with the Princess of Monaco?
Warnings: 18+ content
The roar of the crowd is deafening as Charles brings his Ferrari across the finish line, finally winning his home race after years of heartbreak. His mechanics swarm the barriers, nearly delirious with excitement, but Charles just leans back in his seat, letting the accomplishment sink in.
Heâs done it. Heâs conquered the streets that have taunted him for so long.
As heâs ushered up to the iconic podium, Charles looks out at the sea of fans cheering his name and spots you, radiant in a summery yellow dress, beaming up at him.
For a moment, time seems to stop as your eyes meet. You give him a little wave and he nearly stumbles on his way to the top step, feeling lightheaded.
When you step forward with the winnerâs trophy, Charlesâ heart starts pounding. Your fingers brush against his ever so slightly as you hand it over and he swears he can feel an electric current pass between you. The sleek lines of the trophy blur before his eyes as he struggles to catch his breath.
âFĂ©licitations, Charles,â you say warmly, resting a hand on his arm.
Charles blinks rapidly as his cheeks start to burn. Up close, you look like an honest-to-god angel descended to earth. How does one even speak to heavenly beings?
âTh-thanks,â he stammers out, mentally kicking himself for sounding like such an idiot. He needs to get it together. âI mean, merci, Your Serene Highness.â
You laugh, the warm sound instantly putting him at ease. âPlease, just call me Y/N.â
âY/N,â he repeats dumbly. Itâs easily the most beautiful combination of letters heâs ever heard.
âYou should celebrate your big win tonight,â you say, a playful glint in your eyes. âBut maybe donât get too carried away with the champagne.â
Charles frowns in confusion. Is that a royal decree to take it easy on the partying?
âI was hoping you could pick me up tomorrow evening,â you continue blithely. âFor our date.â
Our ⊠date? Charlesâ eyes go wide as his jaw drops open. Is the most beautiful woman in the world really asking him out right now? In front of millions of people?
âUh, I ⊠we ⊠huh?â He sputters inelegantly.
You just smile that radiant smile and lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. âWe do now,â you murmur against his skin, sending tingles down his spine. âIâll see you at eight?â
Before Charles can formulate any kind of response, you give him one last brilliant grin and turn to congratulate Oscar Piastri on second place. He blinks down at the trophy in his hands, wondering if heâs dreaming all of this.
The rest of the podium celebration passes by in a blur. He holds up his trophy and waves to the crowd like heâs supposed to, but his mind is elsewhere, utterly consumed by the feeling of your lips on his skin and the knowledge that he has an actual date with the woman of his dreams.
As soon as the ceremonies conclude, his team is all over him, shouting congratulations and patting his back enthusiastically. Normally heâd be caught up in the revelry, basking in his victory, but now all Charles wants is to get out of there. He needs to chug about a gallon of water and take a very cold shower.
âParty tonight, eh mate?â Carlos calls out with a playful elbow to the ribs. âGot any special plans to celebrate?â
Charles feels the blush creeping back up his cheeks as he thinks about you â your warm laughter, your gentle touch, the promises of a date in your sparkling eyes. His lips tug up in a helpless smile.
âYou could say that,â he murmurs, already counting down the hours until he gets to see you again.
The post-race celebrations kick into high gear, with champagne flowing freely and music thumping from every corner. Charles goes through the motions, reveling in his hard-won triumph but unable to fully let loose and enjoy himself. Not when a much bigger prize is waiting for him tomorrow night.
The hours drag by interminably as he waits for an acceptable time to make his excuses and leave the party behind. His friends rib him relentlessly for his uncharacteristic restraint.
âWhatâs got you so distracted, Calamar?â Pierre teases. âThis isnât like you at all!â
âYeah, our boyâs got his eyes on something else tonight! Or would it be more accurate to say someone else?â Joris chimes in with an exaggerated wink.
Charles flushes but doesnât deny it, fighting back a smile. If only they knew ...
Itâs nearly 2 am by the time he extricates himself from the club, pleading an early morning commitment. No one believes his excuse for a second, but they let him go with plenty of cheers and well-meaning shoves.
As soon as Charles makes it back to his apartment, he starts feverishly getting ready for tomorrow, picking out the perfect outfit and incessantly checking the time. After tossing and turning fruitlessly for a couple of hours, he finally gives up on sleep, instead spending his morning going for a long run to burn off excess energy.
The day drags on at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every minute feels like an hour as he wills the clocks to move faster. He triple checks the address, runs through conversation starters in his head, and showers for the third time. This date has to go perfectly.
At 7:55 pm, Charles pulls up outside the royal palace, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he tries to control his nerves. He takes one last steadying breath before getting out of the car and smoothing down his shirt.
Like an angel from on high, you suddenly appear in the palace doorway, looking impossibly radiant in a gauzy pink sundress that matches your warm smile perfectly.
âY/N,â Charles breathes out reverently, drinking in your beauty. Up close, his heart is pounding so loudly heâs sure you must be able to hear it. âYou look ⊠wow.â
Your smile grows even brighter as you move towards him. âWell, you clean up pretty nicely yourself.â
Thereâs a brief, charged silence as you stand face to face, just drinking each other in. Then, seeming to make up your mind about something, you grab his hand and tug him close.
âCome on,â you murmur, eyes sparkling mischievously. âIâve got the perfect date night planned for us.â
With your hand in his, Charles would follow you straight into the depths of hell itself. He manages an eager nod, unable to tear his eyes away from your face.
Whatever you have planned, he knows it will be perfect. So long as he gets to spend the evening by your side, he couldnât care less what you do.
You lace your fingers through his, shooting him one last brilliant smile, and lead the way to what is undoubtedly going to be the best night of Charlesâs life.
***
Warm rays of morning sunlight filter through the sheer curtains, gently rousing Charles from the most blissful sleep of his life. He blinks slowly, taking in the lavish bedchamber with its soaring ceilings and intricate moldings. Plush rugs cover the marble floors and the bed heâs cocooned in is easily the most luxurious heâs ever experienced, with soft Egyptian cotton sheets caressing his skin.
For a delirious moment, Charles thinks he might still be dreaming. But then his eyes drift to you, sleeping peacefully beside him, and his heart stutters in his chest. It all comes rushing back in a torrent of sense memories â your radiant smile, your tinkling laugh, the feeling of your hand in his as you led him out on the most magical night of his life.
The two of you stroll hand-in-hand through the winding alleyways of Monaco, ducking down tiny side streets to places only locals know. Charles is enchanted as you show him hidden corners of your city that heâs never seen before, sharing fascinating stories and anecdotes all the while.
âThis little trattoria has been run by the same family for nearly a century,â you explain as you lead him into a tiny, unassuming restaurant positively dripping with old world charm. The smiling owner greets you like a beloved daughter, embracing you warmly.
Over a seemingly endless parade of rustic Italian delicacies and a hearty red wine, you and Charles talk for hours about everything and nothing - childhoods and ambitions, favorite books and movies, embarrassing stories that have you both crying with laughter.
When the owner sends over a giant slice of homemade tiramisu with a wink, you steal the first bite right off Charlesâ fork with a cheeky grin. A bit of mascarpone clings to the corner of your mouth and without thinking, Charles leans in to kiss it away, savoring the sweet taste of you mingled with the rich dessert.
You make a soft noise of surprise against his lips before melting into the kiss, cupping his face tenderly. When you finally part, both a little breathless, thereâs a new burning heat in your eyes that makes Charlesâ heart skip a beat.
âShall we go for a walk?â You murmur, already sliding out of the booth. Your hand finds his and you lace your fingers together as you lead him back out into the night ...
Just thinking about last nightâs date makes Charlesâ heart feel fit to burst. You had taken him on a romantic tour of Monaco unlike anything heâs ever experienced, showing him secret nooks and hidden gems even he didnât know. He had been so entranced just drinking in the city through your eyes, hanging on your every word.
But those heated looks you started sending his way after that first electrifying kiss had made it clear the real night was only just beginning ...
You stroll along the moon-dappled harbor, pointing out your favorite super-yachts and regaling Charles with scandalous stories of the jetset lives of their owners. He laughs delightedly at your wicked sense of humor, tucking you against his side as you wander the lamp-lit cobblestone streets.
When you lead him up a winding path to an old stone overlook, his breath catches in his throat. Twinkling lights from the city and harbor spread out as far as the eye can see, the tiny pinpricks glittering like a million stars. You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you nuzzle against his back.
âItâs beautiful, isnât it?â You murmur reverently. âThis is my favorite view in all of Monaco.â
Charles turns in your embrace until youâre pressed flush together, hardly daring to breathe. âIt is,â he rasps out, getting lost in the depths of your eyes. âBut not as beautiful as you.â
You let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking down to his lips for a heated moment, before surging up on your tiptoes to capture his mouth in a searing kiss ...
Unbidden, a low groan slips from Charlesâ throat as he remembers those heated kisses on the overlook, one thing inexorably leading to another in a heady rush of lust and longing until you were both feverishly tugging at clothes. He swallows hard, feeling himself start to stir beneath the sheets.
That was just the start of the longest, most incredible night of Charlesâ life. Your romantic tour had eventually led you both back to the palace, where you scattered a trail of discarded garments across marble floors and lavish furnishings in your wake, completely consumed by your desire for one another.
You press Charles back against the door of your bedroom as soon as you stagger inside, hands roaming hungrily as you devour his mouth in a bruising kiss. Charles groans deeply, fingers tangling in your hair as he spins you both around to walk you back towards the bed ...
A warm weight suddenly drapes itself across Charlesâ torso, jolting him from his reverie with a sharp intake of breath. Youâre curled against his side, smiling at him with eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep. His heart kicks up a furious gallop as you scoot closer, trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his chest and shoulder.
âGood morning,â you murmur, voice still scratchy and deliciously rumpled sounding. Charles nearly swallows his tongue at the sound â not to mention the fact that he can now feel every luscious curve of your body pressed against his beneath the sheets.
âMorning,â he croaks out, throat gone instantly dry. How is it possible that you look even more beautiful than he remembers?
You laugh softly at his dazed expression as you work your way up the column of his neck, seemingly intent on covering every last inch of bare skin with those incredibly soft lips. âSleep well?â
Charles manages a strangled noise of agreement just before you capture his mouth in a slow, smoldering kiss. He groans against your lips, looping an arm around your waist to pull you more fully on top of him. Every nerve-ending feels like itâs engulfed in flames.
When you finally break apart, you brace yourself up on your elbows, gazing down at him with bright, sparkling eyes. âLast night was incredible,â you say candidly, tracing the line of his cheekbone with a fingertip. âThank you for such an amazing first date.â
A low rumble of laughter escapes Charles as he grins up at you, dizzy with happiness. âI should be thanking you. Last night was ⊠just, wow.â He reaches up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear, marveling at how impossibly soft your skin is. âHave I mentioned yet how breathtakingly gorgeous you are?â
Your cheeks flush prettily even as you let out an adorably bashful little giggle that has Charles bewitched. âCharles Leclerc, you beautiful charmer,â you tease, dropping your head to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. âWhat am I going to do with you?â
âMmm, I have a few ideas ...â Charles murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. He trails his fingertips up the delicate lines of your spine, reveling in the way it makes you shiver against him.
You lift your head again, pinning him with a look of pure want that steals the breath from Charlesâ lungs. âIs that so?â You purr, rolling your hips ever so slightly against his in a way that has him biting back a groan.
âOui,â he husks out, slipping a hand into your tousled hair to draw your mouth back to his. You melt against him instantly, the kiss rapidly becoming heated and desperate as you both come quickly undone.
With you pressed so tantalizingly close, Charles can feel the heat slowly building between you as he maps every inch of your body with eager hands. Your skin is so silky soft, he can scarcely believe youâre real. Last nightâs passion comes roaring back in a tidal wave of desire so potent it nearly overwhelms him.
Your fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging to him like a lifeline as you finally join your bodies in a fevered rush. Charles surges up to capture your lips again, unable to get enough of your addictive taste as you move together in perfect synchronicity. Slick skin sliding, breaths mingling, every sensation is heightened and electrified as you make love with an abandon unlike anything Charles has ever experienced ...
A strangled groan tears from Charlesâ chest at the memory, his grip reflexively tightening on your hips and pulling you harder against him.
You let out a soft whimper against his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as you grind deliciously against him in response. Charles feels utterly intoxicated by you â your taste, your scent, the exquisite softness of your skin pressed so enticingly to his.
With one fluid motion, he rolls you both until heâs caging you beneath him on the luxurious sheets. You gaze up at him with eyes gone molten and dark, chests heaving in tandem. The ferocious want simmering between you is nearly tangible.
âYouâre so beautiful,â Charles rasps out in reverence, brushing the backs of his fingers along the elegant curve of your jaw. He leans down to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, feeling your rapid pulse fluttering beneath his lips. âPerfect ...â
A soft keen escapes you as you tilt your head back to allow him better access. Every nerve in Charlesâ body feels electrified, like his skin is humming with unreleased energy. Heâs drunk on you, body and soul.
As his lips blaze a path lower, nuzzling between the delicious swell of your breasts, your back arches sharply up off the bed with a gasp of longing. Your fingers clutch almost painfully at his shoulders as you struggle to pull him even closer.
âCharles ⊠please,â you whimper, voice pitched low and heady with naked yearning.
He slides a hand up your silken thigh in answer, molding his palm to the flare of your hip as you shift restlessly beneath him. Youâre warm and pliant and bewitching like this, coming slowly undone under his attentions.
With a ragged groan, Charles surrenders to the inescapable gravitational pull between you, fusing your mouths back together in a searing kiss that instantly turns all-consuming ...
Your nails score lines of delicious fire down his back as he drives into you with deep, powerful strokes, hips snapping together in a primal rhythm. Itâs all heat and friction and tangled limbs, the world narrowing down to nothing but the places where your bodies join so intimately.
You keen out his name like a prayer, the sound sending hot shockwaves of lust ricocheting through Charlesâs core. Every nerve feels simultaneously set alight and yet thrumming with a paradoxical electric chill, sensations somehow magnified tenfold.
Heâll never get enough of this feeling â of being completely consumed by you, your passion, your overwhelming desire for each other burning so bright that everything else fades away into glorious insignificance ...
A guttural groan is torn from deep in Charlesâ throat as your hips roll sensuously against his in wanton invitation. His head drops into the tempting curve of your neck, lips tracing maddeningly along your overheated skin as he struggles to maintain the barest thread of control.
âY/N,â he rumbles out, your name laced with pure, undisguised reverence. âMon ange ...â
You cup his face in your hands, forcing his heated gaze back to yours. For a crystalline moment, everything hangs in breathless suspension before you surge up to claim his mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss.
Like a switch being flipped, the tenuous grip Charles had on his restraint abruptly snaps. A low groan tears from his very soul as he lets the irresistible tide finally pull him under, lost in the relentless thrall of your passion.
Your urgent cries spike higher as Charlesâ hips drive forward in a smooth, powerful glide, joining your bodies with exquisite friction. You clutch at him wildly, nails raking lines of delicious fire across his back as the room narrows to nothing but scorching skin and thunderous heartbeats.
At last, the spiraling tension reaches a blinding crescendo, your release crashing over you in shattering waves of pure ecstasy. Charlesâ own climax follows swiftly, torn from his very depths with a hoarse shout of your name.
He collapses bonelessly on top of you, lungs heaving like heâs just run a marathon as you both simply cling to each other through the sizzling aftershocks. Sparks still seem to crackle across his nerve endings from your earth-shattering joining.
After an endless stretch of languid moments, Charles finally gathers enough strength to ease himself to the side, gathering you in against his chest. You come willingly, draping yourself over him as he nuzzles into the top of your head and just breathes you in.
âWow ...â you murmur at last when youâve recovered enough to speak. A breathless giggle escapes as you press a soft kiss to the hollow of his throat. âAnd I thought last night was incredible.â
Charles rumbles out a deep chuckle, pressing his smile against your hair as his arms tighten reflexively around you. âLast night was just the warm up, mon cĆur,â he husks out, voice still gloriously ragged from your shared passion.
You pull back just enough to gaze at him through heavy-lidded eyes, cheeks delightfully flushed and hair wildly tousled in a way that has Charlesâ heart clenching near to bursting. Brushing a knuckle along his jaw, you give him a look rich with teasing promise.
âWell then ... if this is what I give you for winning Monaco,â you trail off meaningfully, letting the words hang suspended as your fingertips trail down the ridges of his abdomen. âI canât even imagine what youâll earn when you win the World Championship.â
The low, sultry purr of your tone sends delicious little licks of heat swirling through Charlesâ veins despite his delightfully sated state. A wicked grin tugs at his lips as pulls you more fully on top of him again, glorying in your lush curves molded so perfectly against his own.
âIs that a challenge, Princesse?â He rumbles out, dipping his head to nibble along the elegant column of your throat. You let out the most deliciously breathy giggle that has his blood absolutely simmering.
âMmm, maybe,â you hum out coyly, deft fingers trailing through the short hair at his nape in a way that makes his toes curl. âAlthough I suppose youâll just have to win it and find out for yourself ...â
Charles feels a possessive growl rising up from deep within his chest as he abruptly flips you both, pinning your breathless laughter beneath him on the luxurious sheets. Gazing down at you with unbridled adoration blazing in his eyes, he steals another scorching kiss that leaves you both gasping for air.
âOh, I fully intend to,â he vows fervently, reveling in the way your eyes have gone molten and dark with renewed desire. His hands map every inch of your body with fervent devotion as he leans down to murmur hotly against the shell of your ear.
âAnd when I do, Princesse ⊠Iâm never letting you go.â
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#monaco gp 2024#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
'Silent Strain' | part I
Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
next chapter
summary: Joel and you knew that bringing a child into this mad world was a mistake, but he wanted to give you the best that was left of that world after all.
w.c: 12,6k (this was 5k at the beginning)
warnings: established relationship, age gap (Joel is 43 and Reader 32) angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, fluff, not proofreading, sorry. The events of this story happen 10 years after the outbreak.
a/n: New Sunday, new fic? This one was on my drafts and I thought about developing a little bit more because I wanted to write one where Joel wasn't an asshole. This may become a really short series. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading.
dividers by @/saradika-graphics
Mornings in the QZ were far from a story teller, always bleak as any other, somber and carrying the weight of the guilty grieving each people who has survived this far dealt with.
Many people had become the worst versions of themselves, just monsters they never thought they would be. Others woke up with the survivorâs guilt, after years of letting go their people, family and friends.
And others carried all that, but had found a little spark shinning on their path.
That was your case.
And Joelâs too.
You both had found each other just a few years after the world descended into chaos. After that, you become each otherâs anchor until now.
Even when days seemed to be grayer, even when Joel seemed a bit lost after losing his contact with Tommy.
Even on days when the world seemed grayer, even when Joel seemed a little more distantâhis thoughts lost somewhere along the frayed edges of his mind, burdened by the loss of contact with Tommyâyou held on. You knew what he was feeling; it was a familiar ache, a common wound you both carried.
Tommy was Joelâs last person who shared his blood. His brother, his last piece of family and what the old world had left him.
But he also had you, and that made him alive.
You woke up slowly, the thin, rough blanket tangled around your legs, the mattress beneath you creaking as you shifted. The air was cold, seeping through the cracks in the walls, and the faint light of dawn barely penetrated the small, grimy window. Outside, you could hear the sounds of the QZ waking up, the distant, muffled voices of guards changing shifts, the echo of boots on concrete, and the occasional shout. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, trying to keep the chill at bay.
The room you and Joel shared was small, barely large enough for the bed and a rickety chair in the corner. Outside the doors, there was the rest of the old apartment that worked as a roof for the both of you, and Tess.
The walls were stained with years of neglect, paint peeling in long strips, revealing the bare concrete beneath. There was a small table near the window where a lone candle had burned down to a stub, wax pooling on the surface, solidifying in random patterns. It had been another long, sleepless night, the dark hours stretching on endlessly, and you could feel it in your bones, an ache that went deeper than simple tiredness.
You glanced over at Joel, still asleep beside you, his face etched with lines of worry even in rest. He lay on his side, one arm slung over his face, his brow furrowed as if he were fighting off some invisible enemy in his dreams. The mornings were hardest on him, you knew. Waking up to the same bleak reality day after day, the hope of finding Tommy growing thinner with each passing moment.
A wave of nausea hit you unexpectedly, a sudden queasiness that made your stomach twist. You shut your eyes, taking a slow, deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You hadn't been feeling well for a few days now, just a lingering discomfort you chalked up to the lack of proper food or maybe stress. Nothing in this world was kind to the body or the mind anymore.
You pushed yourself up, careful not to wake Joel, and swung your legs over the side of the bed, your feet touching the cold, cracked floor. The chill ran up your legs, making you shiver. You sat there for a moment, steadying yourself, pressing a hand against your stomach as if trying to calm the unease that rolled there. There was a strange heaviness to it, something that seemed different, something you couldnât quite put your finger on.
The thought crossed your mind, quick and unbidden, a possibility you immediately pushed away. It was too absurd, too impossible to consider. Not here, not now, not in this broken world.
You rose to your feet, steadying yourself on the edge of the table, your fingers brushing against the melted wax. You glanced back at Joel, who still hadnât stirred, his breathing deep and even. You knew he needed the sleep, needed a moment of peace, however fleeting. You moved quietly toward the window, peering out through the dirt-streaked glass. The world outside was shrouded in mist, the familiar shapes of the crumbling buildings barely visible in the pale morning light.
There was a time when you might have found the sight beautiful, in a melancholic way. Now it just seemed desolate. Empty.
Another wave of nausea hit, stronger this time, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, swallowing hard. You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself. You felt a sharp pang of fear, a sudden flash of panic that cut through the fog of morning fatigue. You forced it down, tried to stay calm. You couldnât afford to be anything else.
From behind you, you heard the faint rustle of the bed as Joel shifted, his voice rough and low. âYou, okay?â he murmured, still half-asleep, his words slurred with exhaustion.
You turned to look at him, forcing a smile, though you werenât sure he could see it in the dim light. âYeah⊠just a bit cold,â you lied softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.
He blinked at you, eyes heavy-lidded, and then nodded, seeming to accept it. âCome back to bed,â he mumbled, his voice carrying a warmth that made something in your chest tighten. âItâs still early.â
For a moment, you hesitated, feeling the cold air around you, the uncertainty pressing in. But then you moved back to the bed, sliding in beside him, feeling the heat of his body radiating through the thin layers of fabric. He reached out, pulling you close, his arm draping over you protectively, and you let out a breath you didnât realize youâd been holding.
You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of safety as Joel stirred Joel stirred, his hand rubbing small, soothing circles on your back. âAre you sure you are, okay?â he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
âYeah,â you whispered, hoping he couldnât hear the lie in your voice. âJust a headache.â
He kissed the top of your head, the simple gesture sending a pang of guilt through you. âYouâve been getting a lot of those lately,â he noted, concern creeping into his tone.
You forced a smile, even though he couldnât see it. âJust stress, I think.â
He hummed in response, not entirely convinced but willing to let it go for now. He gently nudged you off his chest, propping himself up on one elbow to get a better look at you. His eyes searched your face, and you had to fight the urge to look away. Joel had a way of seeing right through you, and you were afraid he might catch a glimpse of the truth you were hiding.
He frowned, clearly not convinced. âYouâve been sayingâ that a lot lately. Maybe you should rest today, stay in bed.â
You shook your head, knowing you couldnât afford to take a day off. Life in the QZ was unforgiving, and everyone had to pull their weight. âIâll be fine. Weâve got too much to do, and theyâre already short-handed at the ration line.â
You forced yourself to follow suit, pushing through the lingering nausea as you pulled on your worn clothes. The headache throbbed with each movement, but you bit back the discomfort, determined not to let it show. Joel kept glancing over at you, as if expecting you to collapse at any moment, but you just offered him a reassuring smile, even if it didnât reach your eyes.
Once you were both ready, you stepped out into the harsh reality of the QZ. The streets were crowded, people moving about with a sense of urgency, always on edge. You and Joel made your way through the throng, his hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you through the chaos.
At the ration line, the day passed in a blur of monotonous tasksâdistributing food, managing the restless crowd, keeping an eye out for trouble. But the ache in your head never fully faded, and every now and then, you had to pause, closing your eyes for a moment to steady yourself.
Joel noticed, of course. He was always watching, always worrying, though he tried to hide it behind a gruff exterior. âYou sure youâre alright?â he asked again when you took a brief break, his tone betraying his concern.
âYeah, just⊠Itâs probably just the air or something,â you said, shrugging it off. But you could tell he didnât believe you.
âSee you later, then?â he asked before parting ways with you to your different duties.
âYeah, see you later,â you replied, forcing a smile, trying to reassure him. Joel lingered for a moment, his eyes searching yours, he planted a kiss on your lips before turning to head off to his assigned area. You watched him go, feeling a mix of guilt and relief. You hated lying to him, but what could you say? That the world seemed to be spinning just a little bit too fast? That every time you bent over, a wave of nausea washed over you? It would only make him worry more.
The hours dragged on, the sun creeping across the sky, bringing with it a sticky heat that clung to your skin. By midday, your headache had grown worse, a steady throb that pounded behind your eyes. The noise of the crowd seemed to amplify the pain, voices blending into a harsh cacophony. You rubbed at your temples, willing it to stop, but it only seemed to make it worse.
At one point, while lifting another crate filled with canned goods, a sharp pain shot through your abdomen, causing you to drop the box with a loud thud. A few people nearby turned to look, but you waved them off, trying to catch your breath. The soldier supervising the line glanced over, raising an eyebrow. âYou good there?â he asked, his tone half-concerned, half-annoyed.
âYeah, Iâm fine,â you muttered, bending down to retrieve the cans that had spilled onto the ground. Your hands shook slightly, and you felt a bead of sweat roll down your back. The soldier didnât look convinced, but he didnât press further, turning his attention back to the line.
âThen clean the mess you madeâ he ordered.
You nodded, swallowing down the nausea that threatened to rise again. âYes, sir,â you replied, bending down to pick up the cans. Your fingers felt clumsy, and every time you moved, the pain in your abdomen seemed to sharpen, making it difficult to keep your breathing steady. Sweat dripped from your forehead, stinging your eyes, but you pushed through, determined not to draw any more attention to yourself.
As you gathered the last can, another wave of dizziness hit you, and you had to steady yourself against the crate to keep from toppling over. You glanced over your shoulder to see if the soldier was still watching, but he had already turned away, his focus elsewhere.
You took a deep breath, trying to will away the nausea, when you heard a familiar voice behind you. âHey, you, okay?â
Turning, you saw Tess standing there, her face set in a concerned frown. âYeah,â you lied, forcing a weak smile. âJust a rough day.â
Tess studied you for a moment, her eyes narrowing. âYou donât look so good,â she said quietly, stepping closer. âYouâre pale⊠and sweating like hell.â
You shrugged, trying to brush it off. âIâm fine, just⊠tired, I guess.â
Tess didn't seem convinced. Her sharp eyes swept over you, taking in every detail â the paleness of your skin, the way your hands trembled slightly as you held the cans. Her frown deepened, and you could practically feel the gears turning in her head.
âLook,â she said slowly, almost carefully, âI know you well enough to tell when youâre lying. And right now, youâre doing a pretty damn poor job of hiding whatever this is.â
Your heart started to pound in your chest, an uneasy thump that only made the nausea worse. You swallowed, glancing away from her probing stare. âI said Iâm fine, Tess,â you repeated, but your voice came out too shaky, too uncertain. Even you didnât believe it.
She took a step closer, lowering her voice. âDonât bullshit me,â she murmured, her tone firm but not unkind. âYouâve been off for days now⊠the headaches, the dizziness. Iâve seen this before. And Iâm pretty sure you know what Iâm talking about.â
You stiffened, shaking your head quickly. âNo, Tess,â you whispered, almost desperate. âItâs not that⊠it canât be.â
Tessâs expression softened, but there was still a hint of stubbornness there, a determination to get through to you. âListen,â she began, her voice a little gentler. âIâm not trying to scare you, but⊠you need to face this. If itâs what I think it is⊠then youâve got a lot to figure out.â
âPlease, Tess. Not nowâ you pleaded.
Tess hesitated, her eyes searching your face, but she nodded slowly, relenting â at least for the moment. "Alright," she said quietly, though the concern in her voice hadnât faded. "But you canât keep running from this forever."
You felt a lump in your throat as you looked away, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. "I just⊠I canât think about it right now," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thereâs too much going on, and⊠JoelâŠ"
Tess sighed, crossing her arms. "I get it," she replied softly. "But, you know, youâre not alone in this. Whatever it is, youâve got people who care about you. Joel might be rough around the edges, but⊠heâs not going to turn his back on you. Not now, not ever."
You swallowed hard, nodding, though you still felt like you were balancing on a knifeâs edge. "I know," you said, though doubt still gnawed at you. "Itâs justâŠ"
"Itâs scary," Tess finished for you, and you could only nod again, feeling suddenly very small. "But you donât have to go through it alone, alright?" she added, her voice softening. "Iâve got your back. Always."
You gave her a weak smile, grateful for her support, even if the fear still twisted inside you. "Thanks, Tess," you whispered.
She patted your shoulder, her touch gentle, almost sisterly. "Letâs get back to it," she said, glancing back toward the line. "But promise me⊠youâll think about what I said."
You nodded again, though your mind was spinning with a hundred different thoughts. "I promise," you murmured, even though you weren't sure if you meant it.
By the time you got back to the apartment, the sun was already low in the sky, casting long shadows through the broken blinds. Your legs felt heavy, your head still pounding from the stress of the day. As you pushed open the door, you were met with the stale, familiar scent of the small, dimly lit space that you and Joel called home. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the faint creaking of the floorboards beneath your feet.
Your eyes scanned the room, and they quickly fell on Joel sprawled out on the bed, his face slack in sleep. But what caught your attention was the nearly empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the table next to him, beside a few scattered, white pills. A flare of anger ignited in your chest.
You walked over and grabbed the bottle, knocking it down onto the floor. The sound of the glass hitting the wood was loud, but Joel didnât stir. Frustration bubbled up inside you. âJoel,â you called out sharply, but he remained still, lost in whatever numbness heâd sought.
With a forceful shove, you shook his shoulder, your voice rising. âJoel, wake up!â you demanded. His eyes fluttered open slowly, bleary and unfocused. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision, and groaned.
âWhat?â he muttered, his voice thick with sleep and whatever haze the whiskey and pills had put him under.
Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. âWhat the hell, Joel?â you spat out, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and worry. âYouâre drinking and taking pills again? You promised me⊠you promised youâd stop!â
Joel blinked again, pushing himself up on one elbow, confusion and irritation crossing his face. âItâs just⊠itâs just to take the edge off,â he slurred, running a hand over his face. âYou donât get it.â
âNo, I do get it,â you shot back, your voice sharp. âI get that youâre hurting, Joel, I get you want to know where Tommy is but this is not the way.â
Joelâs eyes narrowed, some of the grogginess leaving his gaze. âIâm trying,â he muttered, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. âIâm doing the best I can, alright? Itâs not that easyâŠâ
You took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. âI need you, Joel,â you whispered, your voice breaking. âI need you here, with me⊠not drowning in a bottle. Weâre supposed to be in this together, remember?â
He looked away, his jaw tightening, but he didnât respond immediately. The silence stretched between you, heavy and tense. Finally, he let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. âHe is my brother, the only family I get left.â he muttered, almost too softly to hear.
âWhat about me?â you asked, voice trembling.
Damn, why were you getting so emotional.
Joel's brow furrowed, clearly caught off guard by your question. He blinked, as if trying to process your words, and then his expression softened. âWhat are you talkingâ about?â he asked gently, taking a step closer to you. âOf course, you're my family. You know that. Youâre everything.â His fingers brushed against your arm, tentative, as though he was still uncertain if youâd accept his touch.
You felt a lump forming in your throat, and you blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. âThen why does it feel like Iâm not enough?â you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
Joel's thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadnât realized had fallen. âYou are, sweetheart,â he murmured, his voice steady but soft. âI promise you are. Iâm just⊠Iâm scared. Scared of what could happen to you⊠to us.â
You looked up into his eyes, searching for somethingâan answer, a reassurance, anything to ease the turmoil inside you. "How are you feeling'?" he asked suddenly, his voice quieter, more tender than before.
The question caught you off guard. You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts. "I⊠I donât know," you admitted honestly. âTiredâŠâ
Joel nodded slowly, his hand slipping from your cheek to rest on your shoulder. âI know, I get it,â he said quietly. âBut you gotta promise me⊠if thereâs somethingâ wrong, youâll tell meâ
You nodded, âI promise.â
You wrapped your arms around Joel, pulling him into a tight embrace. The warmth of his body against yours was a small comfort, a fleeting sense of security in the chaos that seemed to be swirling around you. As you clung to him, the guilt and the weight of the hidden truth about your pregnancy settled heavily on your shoulders.
Joel held you close, his hand gently rubbing your back, his touch reassuring and steady. âIâm sorry,â you murmured into his shoulder, the words escaping almost involuntarily. âIâm sorry for everything.â
Joelâs arms tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. âAinât nothinâ to be sorry for,â he said softly. âWeâre in this together, you hear me? Weâll get through it. Weâll figure it out.â
You nodded against him, feeling a mix of relief and deep-seated worry. The truth about the pregnancy was still looming, a secret that was becoming increasingly difficult to keep. Every time you looked at Joel, you could see the love and concern in his eyes, and it made the weight of your silence feel all the more burdensome.
As you slowly pulled away from the hug, you wiped at your eyes, trying to steady your emotions. Joel looked at you with a soft expression, his worry evident but tempered with the resolve to support you no matter what.
The thoughts of your pregnancy, the uncertainty of the future, and the fear of how this might change everything were still swirling in your mind. You felt a pang of guilt as you remembered Tess's words, and you struggled with the decision of when and how to reveal the truth.
Joel seemed to sense the inner conflict you were grappling with. âIf you need space, or if you need to talk about it,â he began, his voice steady, âjust let me know. Iâm here for you, no matter what.â You nodded, forcing a small, grateful smile. âThank you, Joel. I⊠I just need a little time.â
He nodded in understanding, and as you both sat down, the silence between you was filled with an unspoken promise of support and love.
You woke up a little later, feeling the soft warmth of Joelâs arm wrapped protectively around your waist. For a moment, you simply lay there, savoring the comfort and the faint sense of security his presence provided. The room was quiet, the only sound the steady rhythm of Joelâs breathing.
Gently, you eased yourself out of bed, careful not to disturb him. You tiptoed out of the bedroom, the coolness of the apartment a stark contrast to the warmth youâd left behind. As you walked through the small living space, you noticed that Tess was already up, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.
She looked up as you entered, her gaze softening. âHey,â she said quietly, setting the cup down. âHowâre you feeling?â
You offered her a small, tired smile. âBetter, thanks,â you replied, taking a seat across from her. âI just needed some space to think.â
Tess nodded; her expression thoughtful. âDid you think about what I say?â
You took a deep breath, considering Tess's question. âA little,â you admitted, your voice soft. âItâs just been overwhelming, and Iâm not sure how to handle everything yet.â
Tess studied you for a moment, her eyes reflecting both concern and a hint of sadness âAnd?â she reached across the table, placing a comforting hand over yours. âI understand itâs overwhelming,â she said gently. âBut you have to face it.â
You glanced down at your hands, gripping the edge of the table as if it might anchor you to the present moment. The room felt too small, the weight of your thoughts pressing heavily on your shoulders. âIt canât beâŠIâm scaredâ you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.
Tess took a deep breath, her expression softening. âTake the test, Iâll go with youâ she said, showing support.
âWha-wha-what? I donât have any testâ you said, voice trembling
Tess gave you a small, understanding smile, her hand still resting over yours. âI know,â she said softly. âBut thereâs a way to get one. I can ask around⊠discreetly. I have a contact who might be able to help.â
Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and disbelief coursing through you. âYouâd do that? For me?â The idea of someone knowing, of even a whisper of this spreading through the QZ, sent a chill down your spine. But the calm certainty in Tessâs eyes steadied you.
âOf course,â she replied without hesitation. âIâve got your back, always. Weâve been through worse, havenât we?â
You nodded slowly, though the tight knot in your stomach seemed to twist even more. âYeah, I guess,â you muttered, trying to sound convinced, even though nothing had felt quite like this. âBut what if⊠what if itâs true, Tess? What do I do then?â
Tess squeezed your hand gently, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. âThen we figure it out, step by step,â she said. âFirst things first, we need to know for sure. Until then, try not to let your mind spiral, okay?â
You swallowed hard, nodding again, though your mind was already a storm of thoughts and worries. You could feel the weight of this new reality settling onto your shoulders, heavier than anything youâd felt before. âOkay,â you whispered. âIâll try.â
Tess stood up, giving your hand one last comforting squeeze before letting go. âIâll see what I can do tomorrow,â she promised. âGo back to bed and try to rest.â
Your mind raced with possibilities and fears as you made your way back to the small bedroom, trying to steady your breathing, to find some calm in the storm of your thoughts.
When you slipped back into the darkened room, Joel was still lying on his side, one arm stretched across the bed as if reaching for you even in sleep. You carefully lifted the blanket and slid back under it, trying not to wake him. But as soon as you settled in, his arm instinctively curled around your waist, pulling you close. His warmth enveloped you, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of safety.
Joel's voice came out in a sleepy murmur, rough around the edges. âWhere were you?â he mumbled; his breath warm against your neck. You could feel the weight of his arm, heavy and reassuring, holding you as if he sensed your unease.
âJust⊠talking to Tess,â you whispered back, trying to keep your voice steady.
His grip around you tightened slightly, his thumb tracing small circles against your side. Even in his half-asleep state, there was a protectiveness in the way he held you. âEverything okay?â he asked, still drowsy, but there was a hint of concern creeping into his tone.
You hesitated for a second, your heart beating faster. You didnât want to lie, but you also couldnât tell himânot yet, not until you knew for sure. âYeah,â you finally replied, trying to sound convincing.
Joel made a low, comforting sound, a mix between a hum and a sigh. He nuzzled closer, his lips brushing lightly against your shoulder. âDonât worry,â he murmured, his voice trailing off as sleep tried to claim him again. âWeâll figure it out⊠whatever it is.â
You bit your lip, feeling a lump form in your throat. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let his words soothe the fear gnawing at your insides. But all you could do was rest your hand over his, feeling the roughness of his skin beneath your palm, grounding yourself in his presence.
âYeah,â you whispered back, more to yourself than to him. âWe always do.â
Joelâs breathing began to slow again, deepening as he drifted back to sleep. You closed your eyes, pressing yourself closer against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.
âI love youâ you whispered to him, breaking the silence. You were afraid of losing him.
For a moment, there was only the quiet of the room, the soft hum of the distant generator outside, and the gentle rhythm of Joel's breath against your skin. You wondered if he'd even heard you, or if your whispered words had been lost in the space between wakefulness and sleep.
Then, you felt his grip tighten around you, his hand moving to hold you closer, almost as if he was afraid, you might slip away. His lips brushed against your shoulder, a tender, lingering kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. "I love you too," he murmured, his voice a deep, husky whisper in the darkness. There was a raw honesty in his words, an openness that you rarely heard from him, as if he understood the fear hidden beneath your confession.
His lips pressed against your shoulder again, this time firmer, more deliberate. "Ain't nothing gonna change that," he added softly, his breath warm against your skin. His thumb stroked gently over the fabric of your shirt, tracing soothing patterns that spoke of comfort and promises unspoken.
You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you, feeling a mix of relief and longing. The fear still lingered, but in this moment, held in his arms, it felt a little more manageable. You leaned back into him, feeling the strength in his body, the steady beat of his heart against your back.
Joel held you tighter, as if sensing your need for reassurance. "We'll get through this," he whispered. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together. You and me."
You nodded against him, unable to find your voice, your heart swelling with the weight of everything unsaid. "Together," you repeated softly, your hand squeezing his, grounding yourself in his presence.
For now, that was enough.
Joel woke up slowly, his body protesting against the cold air that had settled in the room overnight. He blinked against the dim light filtering through the cracked blinds, reaching out instinctively to your side of the bed, only to find it empty. His hand moved across the sheets, finding them cool, your warmth long gone.
He sat up, a frown creasing his brow as a flicker of worry ran through him. He scanned the room, half-expecting to see you in the corner, maybe getting dressed or lost in thought, but the room was still, too still. He called your name, softly at first, then a little louder. No answer.
His heart quickened as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing his jeans from the chair and yanking them on. The apartment was quiet, eerily so, with no sign of movement or life. His boots hit the floor with a dull thud as he pulled them on, his gaze darting around the small space.
Where the hell were you?
He moved quickly to the kitchen, eyes scanning the counters, the sinkâanywhere you might have left a note, a sign of where youâd gone. But there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of the building settling around him. He glanced toward the front door, noticing Tess's boots missing from their usual spot. A knot of unease tightened in his chest. Neither of you were there.
He ran a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. You wouldnât have left without telling him, not without saying something. And Tessâshe was always up to something, but she never left you behind. He felt his pulse quicken, a gnawing sense of dread creeping in as he grabbed his jacket from the hook near the door, slipping it on with practiced haste.
Joel pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, his boots echoing against the worn floorboards. He looked around, scanning for any sign of you or Tess. The hallway was empty, but a few doors down, a neighborâa middle-aged man Joel recognized but didnât know wellâwas stepping out, adjusting his coat.
âHey,â Joel called out, his voice sharper than intended. The man looked up, surprised. âYou seen them?â He gestured back to your apartment.
The man shook his head slowly, clearly unsure who Joel was referring to. âNah, havenât seen anyone this morning,â he replied. âEverything okay?â
Joel forced a tight smile, though his stomach was churning with worry. âYeah, fine,â he muttered, turning away. He started down the stairs, moving quickly, almost without thinking. His mind raced, a thousand worst-case scenarios flashing through his thoughts. Where could you be? Why hadnât you said anything?
He made his way down to the ground floor, heading toward the small communal area near the entrance, where a few people were already gathered, murmuring quietly among themselves. He scanned the room, his eyes searching, hoping to catch a glimpse of you or Tess.
âJoel!â A voice cut through the chatter, and he turned to see one of Tessâs contactsâDanny, a wiry guy with a nervous energyâwaving him over. Joelâs heart jumped. Maybe Danny had seen you.
âWhereâs Tess?â Joel asked as he approached, not bothering with pleasantries.
Dannyâs face tightened slightly, and he glanced around, lowering his voice. âShe went out early, looking for something⊠didnât say what. Figured you knew.â
Joel clenched his jaw, frustration flaring in his chest. âAnd her?â he asked, his voice edged with urgency. âYou see her?â
Danny shook his head. âNo, man. I just saw Tess.â
Joel felt a chill run down his spine. He took a step back, his mind racing with questions. If Tess had gone out and you werenât with her, then where the hell were you?
He turned, scanning the room one more time, then made a decision. He needed to find you, now. Whatever this was, wherever you were, he wasnât going to wait around and let worry tear him apart.
You sat in Lydia's small, cluttered living room, nerves thrumming beneath your skin like a live wire. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and old books, a comforting combination that somehow made you feel more at ease, despite the circumstances. Lydia's place was a small haven in the chaos of the QZ, filled with mismatched furniture, faded floral curtains, and a few potted plants she somehow managed to keep alive. The doctor herself, an older woman with graying hair pulled back into a messy bun, moved around the space with a calm, practiced efficiency. Her hands were steady, her expression focused but kind.
Tess stood beside you, her presence a quiet reassurance. She had her arms crossed, her foot tapping lightly against the worn wooden floor as she watched Lydia prepare a small kit on the table. Lydia glanced over at you, her eyes soft with a mixture of concern and affection. âYou look pale, sweetheart,â she said, her voice gentle but firm. âYouâve been keeping up with your food and water?â
You managed a small nod, though your stomach felt like it was tied in knots. âYeah, just⊠a lot on my mind,â you murmured. Your voice sounded small in the stillness of the room.
Lydia nodded knowingly, her gaze flicking to Tess for a moment before returning to you. âIâve seen that look before,â she said softly. âIt's not easy, being in this kind of situation⊠but youâre not alone, okay?â
You bit your lip, feeling a lump form in your throat again. âThanks, Lydia⊠I just⊠Iâm scared,â you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. âI donât know what to do if⊠if itâs true.â
Lydia came over to you, setting a warm hand on your shoulder. âItâs okay to be scared,â she said kindly.
You nodded, taking a deep breath as she handed you a small, well-worn plastic device. A pregnancy test. It felt surreal holding it in your hand, the weight of it much heavier than its actual size.
Lydiaâs expression softened. âThe bathroom is down the hall,â she instructed gently. âTake your time, and when you're ready, come back out. No rush.â
You glanced at Tess, who gave you a reassuring nod. âGo on,â she urged softly. âIâll be right here.â
Swallowing hard, you stood up, clutching the test in your hand, and made your way down the narrow hallway to the small, dimly lit bathroom. The old mirror above the sink was cracked, reflecting your nervous expression in fragmented pieces. You took a deep breath, feeling the cool tile under your bare feet, and tried to steady your racing heart.
The minutes stretched out as you stood there, staring at the test in your hands, feeling the weight of this decision. You knew that everything could change in an instantâyour life, your relationship with Joel, everything you thought you knew about the world and your place in it.
You finally gathered your courage, took the test, and set it on the sink. You watched it like it might explode, the seconds ticking by with agonizing slowness. You could hear the muffled voices of Tess and Lydia down the hall, their words indistinct but soothing in their familiarity.
And then, after what felt like an eternity, you saw the result. Your breath caught in your throat, your knees feeling weak. You stared at it, your mind struggling to catch up, to process what you were seeing.
It was positive.
You felt a wave of emotions crash over youâfear, confusion, a strange sense of disbelief. You gripped the edge of the sink, needing something solid to hold on to, to keep yourself from spiraling. Tears welled in your eyes, unbidden, and you blinked them back, swallowing hard.
You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself before turning back toward the door. You stepped out of the bathroom, your face pale, your hands trembling slightly.
Tess was the first to notice, her eyes widening as she saw your expression. She moved quickly to your side, her hand gripping your arm gently. âHey⊠whatâs the result?â she asked, though the look on your face already told her everything.
Lydia stepped closer; her eyes filled with empathy. âItâs okay, sweetheart,â she murmured. âJust take a breath.â
You looked at them both, your voice barely a whisper. âItâs⊠itâs positive,â you admitted, your heart pounding. âIâm⊠Iâm pregnant.â
Tess squeezed your arm, a mixture of concern and determination on her face. âOkay,â she said firmly. âWeâre going to handle this. Weâre gonna figure it out.â
Lydia nodded; her expression warm. âYouâre not alone in this,â she reassured you. âWeâll do what we can to make sure youâre safe⊠and healthy.â
You swallowed hard, feeling the tears spill over despite your best efforts to hold them back. âWhat⊠what do I do now?â you asked, your voice shaking. âI donât want anyone to know this, okay?â
âJoelâs has to knowâ Tess said.
âNo.â Your voice came out sharper than you intended, a flash of panic twisting through your chest. âNo,â you repeated, firmer this time. âI canât⊠I canât tell him. Not yet.â
Tessâs eyes narrowed slightly, but her expression remained calm. âWhy not?â she asked gently, though there was a hint of insistence in her voice. âHe deserves to know. Heâs going to find out sooner or later.â
You shook your head, feeling the tears start to flow again. âI just⊠Iâm not ready,â you whispered, your voice trembling. âHeâs already dealing with so much, with losing contact with Tommy, and⊠I donât want to put this on him. Not when I donât even know how I feel about it yet.â
Lydia placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, her touch steady and grounding. âItâs okay to feel this way,â she said softly. âBut Tess is right. Joel will need to know eventually. Heâs your partner⊠in all of this.â
You bit your lip, trying to steady your breath. âI just need some time,â you murmured, feeling a deep ache in your chest. âPlease⊠donât say anything to him. Not until I figure out how to even say it myself.â
Tess sighed, a mixture of frustration and understanding on her face. âAlright,â she agreed quietly, but you knew she was lying.
She walked towards the door before you saying to Lydia âIâll pay you later.â
âThere is no need, Iâd do anything for this one hereâ she said, squeezing your shoulder.
Tess gave Lydia a small nod, but her expression was tight, her jaw set. You could sense the conflict simmering beneath her calm exterior. You knew Tess well enough to recognize that she wasnât pleased with your decision. She paused at the door, one hand resting on the frame, before turning back to you.
âAlright,â she said again, this time her voice softer, almost resigned. âWe need to get back. Joelâs probably tearing his hair out by now.â There was a hint of a wry smile, but it didnât quite reach her eyes. You felt a pang of guilt; you could only imagine how worried Joel must be at this point.
Lydia gave you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. âTake care of yourself, okay?â she said softly. âAnd if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.â
You managed a small, grateful smile. âThank you, Lydia⊠for everything,â you whispered, feeling a rush of emotion swell in your chest.
Tess opened the door and stepped outside, waiting for you to follow. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, before moving to join her. As you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, Tess glanced at you, her expression unreadable.
âYou know heâs gonna ask where we were,â she muttered, keeping her voice low. âAnd you know I wonât lie to him.â
Your heart sank a little. âI know,â you admitted quietly. âJust⊠donât tell him yet, okay? I need to be the one to do it, Tess.â
She nodded, but the tension in her shoulders didnât ease. âYou better tell him soon,â she warned her tone more serious now. âBecause if you donât, I will.â
Two days had passed since you were delivered the news, and as you went through your shift, the morning sun cast a pale light over the QZ, and the usual noise of activity buzzed around you. You focused on your tasks, trying to push through the lingering fatigue and nausea. Despite your efforts to stay steady, a wave of nausea hit you suddenly, making your stomach churn violently.
You stumbled to the side, clutching your midsection as you struggled to keep yourself upright. Before you could react, the contents of your stomach erupted, and you doubled over, throwing up onto the ground. The sudden and intense discomfort left you gasping for breath, feeling a mix of embarrassment and distress.
Nearby, a few of your co-workers glanced over, their faces a mixture of concern and discomfort. One of them approached, a frown on his face. âYou alright? Maybe you should sit down or get some fresh air.â
You shook your head, trying to regain your composure. âIâm fine,â you managed to say, though your voice was shaky. âJust⊠give me a moment.â
The soldier supervising the shift, who had already been keeping an eye on you, approached with a stern expression. âWhatâs going on? You canât be throwing up in the middle of work. If youâre sick, you need to go home.â
You tried to protest, but your weakened state made it hard to argue. âIâm okay,â you said weakly. âI just need a minute.â
Before you could say more, Joel appeared, his face etched with concern as he hurried over to you. He placed a supportive hand on your back. âYou need to go home,â he said firmly, his eyes filled with worry. âYouâre not doing yourself any good pushing through like this.â
The soldier gave Joel a skeptical look. âShe needs to get back to work. We canât afford to have people slacking off.â
Joelâs expression hardened, and he took a protective step forward. âSheâs not slacking off. Sheâs sick. You wanna have her work herself into the ground? Take her home, and Iâll deal with it.â
The soldier seemed taken aback by Joelâs intensity but eventually relented, grumbling under his breath. âFine. Take her home, Miller. We donât need sick people on duty.â
Joel nodded, helping you to your feet and wrapping an arm around you for support. âLetâs get you outta here,â he said gently, guiding you toward the exit.
As you walked out of the QZ, the cool air was a welcome relief, but the anxiety and guilt still gnawed at you. âIâm sorry,â you murmured, your voice barely audible.
Joel glanced at you, his eyes softening. âYou donât need to apologize, honey.â With Joelâs reassuring presence beside you, you made your way back to the apartment, each step feeling a bit heavier as you faced the reality of your situation.
When you and Joel arrived back at the apartment, you were both greeted by the quiet, familiar surroundings. Tess was sitting at the kitchen table, her eyes lifting from a worn-out map sheâd been studying. She looked up as you entered, her expression shifting from concern to relief.
âHey, youâre back,â Tess said, standing up quickly. âHow are you feeling?â
Joel helped you inside, guiding you to the couch. âSheâs not feeling great,â he said, his voice low. âShe had another wave of nausea at work.â
Tess crossed the room, taking a seat next to you on the couch. âAlright, letâs get you comfortable,â she said, her tone gentle. She reached for a blanket and draped it over you, her eyes scanning your face with worry.
You nodded weakly, feeling the exhaustion and the strain of the morning catching up with you. âThanks, Tess,â you murmured, settling into the couch as Joel stood nearby, his hands resting on his hips, clearly trying to mask his concern.
Tess turned to Joel. âYou should take a break, too,â she suggested. âI can keep an eye on her for a bit.â
âNo.â Joel glanced at you, âI want to know whatâs happening, and donât lie to meâ he demanded, especially to you.
You frightened under his stare. You looked over at Tess looking for a way of reassurance.
Tess met Joelâs gaze steadily, her own concern evident. âJoel,â she began softly, âwe need to approach this carefully. We donât want to push her too hard.â
Joelâs eyes softened slightly, but his jaw remained set. âI just want to understand whatâs going on. Sheâs been sick for days, and I need to know why.â
You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of both their stares. âJoel,â you said quietly, âIâve been⊠trying to manage. Itâs been hard to admit, but⊠Tess might be right. Iâm not sure how to handle it all.â
Tess reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. âWhat weâre dealing with isnât just a simple illness. Itâs important that we address it properly.â
Joelâs expression shifted from frustration to deep concern. âWhat are you saying?â he asked, his voice softer now, but still laced with worry.
âJoel, IâŠIâ you wanted to tell him, but you couldnât find the words or the courage to do it.
Joel's gaze was intense, waiting for you to continue. Tessâs hand on your shoulder was a grounding presence, urging you to find the strength to speak.
You took another deep breath, the lump in your throat making it hard to talk. âJoel,â you began again, your voice trembling, âIâve been feeling⊠really sick, and itâs more than just the usual stuff. Itâs⊠itâs becauseâŠâ
Again, your voice got cut.
âBecause of what?â he demanded.
âShe is pregnant, Joelâ Tess answered for you.
Joelâs face went pale as he absorbed Tessâs words. His eyes flickered between you and Tess, trying to reconcile the new information with what he had seen in you recently. The silence in the room grew heavy, punctuated only by the sound of your shallow breaths.
Joelâs hands dropped to his sides, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. âPregnant?â he repeated, almost as if he couldnât believe it. His voice was a mix of confusion and pain, and he took a step back, needing space to process this revelation.
You nodded, tears threatening to spill again. âI didnât want to tell you like this,â you said quietly. âIâve been trying to manage, but itâs been really hard.â
Joel ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly as he tried to gather his thoughts. He turned away from you, his face contorted with frustration. âGoddammit,â he muttered, running a hand through his hair again, the tension in his body palpable. âThis⊠this is just too much.â
You flinched at his outburst, tears spilling freely now. âJoel, pleaseââ you began, but he cut you off, his voice rising.
âDo you have any idea what this means?â Joelâs tone was harsh, though there was a tremor of anguish beneath the anger. âWeâre barely surviving as it is, and now⊠now youâre telling me youâre pregnant?â
Tess stepped in, placing a firm hand on Joelâs shoulder. âJoel, this isnât helping,â she said sharply. âShe needs support right now, not anger.â
Joel shrugged off her hand, his frustration boiling over. âI know, I know,â he snapped. âBut itâs a lot to take in! I canât just ignore it!â
You watched, your heart breaking as you saw Joelâs struggle to come to terms with the news. âJoel,â you said, trying to reach out to him despite your own pain, âIâm sorry. I didnât want to add to the stress, but I didnât know how else to handle it.â
Joelâs eyes met yours, and for a moment, the anger in his gaze faltered, replaced by a deep sadness. âI just⊠I donât know how to fix this,â
he said, his voice dropping to a strained whisper. âI thought we had a chance to figure things out. Now everythingâs just falling apart.â
Tess moved closer; her voice softer but firm. âJoel, getting angry wonât solve anything. We need to focus on what we can do now. What matters is getting her the help she needs.
âWe were supposed to leave to find Tommy and now we wonât be able to.â He said, angry.
âWhat?â you asked, absorbing the new information.
Joelâs gaze dropped to the floor, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. âWe were planning to leave for Tommyâs,â he said, his voice tight with frustration. âBut with this⊠we might not be able to. Weâre stuck here now, trying to figure out how to manage all this mess.â
You stared at him, the realization hitting you like a cold wave. âWait, you were planning to leave? To find Tommy?â
Joel nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. âYeah, Tess and I thought it was the best chance for us. Tommyâs got connections, and he might be able to help us get through this. But nowâŠâ His voice trailed off, the anger and sadness mixing in his eyes. âNow, everythingâs fucked up.â
âWhen were you planning to tell me?â You asked, hurt.
Joelâs face fell at your question, and he looked away, struggling to find the right words. âI wasnât⊠I didnât mean to keep it from you,â he said, his voice rough. âThings were just⊠so complicated. We thought we had more time to figure things out before we had to tell you.â
You felt a pang of hurt at his words. âSo, you were just going to leave me in the dark? You were planning to leave without even talking to me about it?â
Joel looked back at you; his eyes filled with regret. âNo, thatâs not what I meant. Of course you were coming with us.â
âBut now Iâm a burden.â You uttered a thought Joel perhaps was having.
Joelâs face tightened at your words, the weight of your accusation clearly hitting him hard. âThatâs not what I meant,â he said quickly, his voice strained. âYouâre not a burden, never say that again.â
You stood up, your emotions swirling, a mix of hurt and frustration. âThen why does it feel like everythingâs falling apart because of me?â you asked, your voice trembling.
You stood up, your emotions swirling, a mix of hurt and frustration. âThen why does it feel like everythingâs falling apart because of me?â you asked, your voice trembling. Tears began to spill down your cheeks, the weight of the situation overwhelming you. âIâm pregnant and I donât know what to do. I thought you were going to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay, butâfuck this!â You turned abruptly and walked towards the bedroom, trying to escape the chaos of your emotions.
Joel's heart ached as he watched you go, his own emotions roiling. He hesitated for a moment before following you, his steps heavy with regret and worry. He reached the bedroom door just as you were sinking onto the edge of the bed, your shoulders shaking with sobs.
âHey,â Joel said softly, his voice carrying a note of desperation. âIâm sorry. I didnât mean for any of this. I was just⊠scared and confused. I shouldâve been there for you, and I wasnât.â
You didnât look up, focusing on trying to control your breathing. âLeave me alone.â You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, feeling his presence beside you.
âLeave, Joel.â You sobbed.
Joelâs heart sank further as you pushed him away, the pain in your voice cutting him deeply. He hesitated at the bedroom door, torn between his desire to comfort you and the need to respect your space.
âAlright,â Joel said softly, his voice almost a whisper. âIâll give you some time. Iâm sorry.â With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your emotions.
As Joel retreated, Tess quietly entered the room. She found you on the edge of the bed, still shaking with sobs. Without saying a word, she sat down beside you, offering silent support. Tessâs presence was calm and steady, a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside.
âHey,â Tess said gently, placing a comforting hand on your back. âIâm here. Just breathe. Weâll get through this.â
You looked up at her, your eyes red and tearful. Tess didnât try to force conversation; instead, she simply sat with you, her hand a reassuring presence on your back. Slowly, the comforting silence and Tessâs steady presence began to soothe you. Your breathing gradually steadied, and the tears started to subside.
Tess helped you settle into a more comfortable position on the bed, making sure you were warm and covered. As you drifted off to sleep, the emotional exhaustion finally taking its toll, Tess stayed by your side, her watchful gaze softening with concern.
After a while, Tess glanced toward the door and saw Joel standing there, his expression one of deep regret and sorrow. He looked as though he was trying to come to terms with everything that had happened. Tess gave him a sympathetic nod before turning her attention back to you.
âI know this isnât the ideal situation,â Tess began, her tone firm yet understanding. âBut she needs you now, Joel. More than ever.â
Joelâs jaw clenched, his eyes flicking from Tess to where you lay curled up on the bed, still trembling from your tears. âI donât know if I can do this, Tess,â he whispered, his voice barely audible, filled with the weight of his fears.
Tess placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. âYouâve got to try,â she urged. âSheâs scared, and she needs you to be there for her. You donât have to have all the answers, but you do need to stay. You need to lay down next to her and protect her, like you always have.â
Joel looked at her, conflicted, the fight still lingering in his eyes. But Tess didnât back down, her gaze unwavering. âSheâs not asking you to be perfect, Joel. Sheâs asking you to be there.â
For a moment, Joel hesitated, the weight of the decision hanging heavy in the air. But then, slowly, he nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. He walked over to the bed, his movements careful and deliberate as he lay down beside you, his presence cautious but steady.
You stirred slightly, sensing his nearness even in your sleep, and instinctively moved closer to him, seeking the comfort you had always found in his arms. Joel wrapped an arm around you, holding you gently, as if afraid you might break. And as Tess watched, she saw the fear and anger in his eyes slowly give way to something softer.
The room was quiet, save for the sound of your breathing, as you finally found peace in sleep. Joel stayed awake, his thoughts still tangled, but his grip on you never faltered. Tess left the room quietly, leaving the two of you to find whatever solace you could in each other.
Joel lay beside you, staring up at the cracked ceiling of the apartment. He couldnât sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind raced, replaying the argument from earlier and the harsh truths he had tried to push away for so long. The room was quiet now, but his thoughts were anything but.
His gaze shifted to you, lying peacefully next to him, your breathing soft and even. You looked so small, so fragile, and it hit him all over again just how much had changed in the span of a few hours. The life growing inside you was a reality he couldnât ignore anymore, no matter how much he wanted to. He watched you, his heart heavy with a mix of fear, guilt, and something he hadnât allowed himself to feel in a long timeâhope.
The thought of becoming a father again terrified him. After Sarah, after everything he had lost, he didnât know if he could survive that kind of pain again. But here you were, carrying his child, and it was as if the world was asking him to take that risk all over again. He didnât know if he had it in him, but as he watched you sleep, so peaceful and trusting, he realized that you were counting on him.
Joel stayed awake through the night, his thoughts swirling with memories of Sarah, the life he had lost, and the uncertain future ahead. He wanted to protect you, to shield you from the harshness of the world outside, but he didnât know if he was strong enough to protect you both from the dangers that lay ahead. The weight of responsibility felt crushing, yet he knew he couldnât turn awayânot now, not ever.
As the first light of dawn began to seep through the cracks in the curtains, Joelâs exhaustion finally began to catch up with him. His eyes grew heavy, and despite his best efforts, he drifted into a restless sleep, his arm still draped protectively over you.
When he finally woke, the apartment was filled with the pale light of early morning. He blinked groggily, his mind still clouded with sleep, but something felt off. The warmth of your body beside him was gone. He reached out, his hand finding only the empty space where you had been.
Panic flared in his chest as he sat up quickly, his eyes scanning the room. The bed was cold where you had lain, and the room was eerily silent. âWhere the hell are you?â he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair as he forced himself out of bed.
His heart pounded in his chest as he searched the small apartment, calling your name, but there was no answer. The sense of dread he had felt the night before came rushing back, stronger than ever. He knew you couldnât have gone far, but the thought of you out there alone, especially in your condition, made his stomach twist with worry.
Joel threw on his jacket, his movements frantic as he prepared to leave and search for you. He couldnât bear the thought of something happening to you, not when he had just realized how much he needed you. As he headed for the door, he stopped short, his hand gripping the doorknob tightly. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, to think. You were strong, capableâhe knew that. But still, the protective urge in him screamed to find you, to bring you back and keep you safe.
With one last glance around the empty apartment, Joel stepped outside, his mind racing as he tried to figure out where you might have gone. He couldnât lose youânot now, not ever.
Joel knew you had a habit of going to certain places when you needed spaceâwhen you needed to clear your head. He made his way through the maze of streets, his mind fixated on finding you. As he walked, his thoughts spiraled. What if you were angry enough to leave the QZ? What if youâd decided you didnât want to face him again? The guilt from the night before weighed heavily on him, and the fear that heâd pushed you away was overwhelming.
He headed towards a small, secluded spot behind one of the less-used buildingsâa place you often went when you needed to be alone. It was out of sight from most people, offering a rare bit of privacy in the crowded QZ. As he turned the corner, his breath caught in his throat. There you were, sitting on an old, crumbling bench, your hands clasped tightly in your lap.
Relief washed over him, so intense it almost brought him to his knees. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in the sight of you. You looked small and lost, your shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world had finally settled on them. But you were safe. You were here. That was all that mattered.
He approached slowly, not wanting to startle you. The crunch of gravel under his boots made you look up, your eyes meeting his. The raw emotion in your gazeâfear, uncertainty, and something that looked like regretâhit him like a punch to the gut.
Joel stopped a few feet away, unsure of what to say, how to bridge the gap that had opened between you. His mouth opened, but no words came out. What could he possibly say to make this better? To fix the hurt he had caused?
âI didnât mean to leave,â you finally said, your voice small and fragile. âI justâŠneeded to think.â
Joel nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. âI get it,â he replied, his voice rough with emotion. He took a cautious step closer, wanting to reach out, but unsure if you wanted him to. âI shouldnât have⊠I shouldnât have let you leave like that.â
You shook your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. âItâs not your fault. I justââ Your voice broke, and you wiped at your eyes, frustration evident in the gesture. âI donât know how to deal with all of this. Itâs too much, Joel. Everything is too much.â
âI donât know if I can do this,â you whispered, the words barely audible.
Joel crouched down in front of you, his hand still on your shoulder, his gaze locked onto yours. âWe donât have to have all the answers right now,â he said softly.
âThere isnât a place for raising a baby.â You spoke, looking down at your hands, the thoughts swirling in your mind too overwhelming to express. âLydia could help me,â you whispered, almost to yourself. âShe could help meâŠterminate it.â
Joelâs reaction was immediate, his voice hard and unyielding. âNo.â The word came out sharper than he intended, and he saw you flinch. He softened his tone, but the resolve remained. âWeâre not doing that.â
You looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and confusion. âBut, Joel, what ifââ you began, but he cut you off.
âI said no,â he repeated, more firmly this time. âWeâre not ending this.â
Tears welled up in your eyes, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. âBut Iâm scared, Joel,â you confessed, your voice breaking. âWhat if we canât do this? What if itâs too much?â
Joel crossed the room in two long strides and knelt in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face. âIâm scared too,â he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. âBut I canât lose you.â
Tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked into his eyes, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. âI donât know if I can do this,â you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. âYouâre not alone in this,â he murmured into your hair. âWeâll do it together. Whatever happens, weâll face it together.â
You clung to him, the fear and uncertainty still gnawing at you, but for the first time since youâd found out, you felt a small measure of comfort. Joel wasnât backing down, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
âI love you and I wonât leave you alone, babyâ he whispered, kissing your lips.
Joelâs words wrapped around you like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of your fears. You clung to him, your grip tight but gentle, as if you were afraid, he might disappear again. The warmth of his embrace, the sincerity in his voice, and the tenderness of his kiss were all anchors in the storm that had been swirling inside you.
âI love you too,â you whispered back, your voice thick with emotion. You could feel the tears drying on your cheeks, replaced by a sense of tentative hope. The weight of your worries didnât vanish, but Joelâs presence made them seem a little more manageable.
Joel gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the remaining tears from your cheeks. âWeâre gonna get through this,â he said firmly. âI donât know how, but we will. Weâre a team. Weâve faced worse before.â
You nodded, finding strength in his conviction. âOkay,â you murmured, feeling a flicker of warmth in your chest. âIâll try to believe that.â
Joelâs eyes softened as he leaned in closer, pressing his forehead to yours. âWeâll figure it out together,â he promised. âBut right now, my focus is taking care of you and the baby.â
Hours later, the apartment was quiet once again, save for the soft hum of a generator and the occasional creak of the building settling into its nightly stillness. You had managed to distract yourself with small tasks around the apartment, trying to keep your mind occupied and calm. The weight of the conversation with Joel still lingered, but his earlier reassurance had brought a sense of calm you hadn't expected.
You were in the middle of organizing some supplies when you heard the front door open. The sound of footsteps followed, and a few moments later, Joel's voice cut through the quiet. It was a familiar, comforting sound, but this time, it was tinged with an edge of frustration.
âYou think this is a joke?â Joelâs voice was sharp, and you could hear the anger in his tone.
You quickly moved toward the front of the apartment, concern etching across your face. When you reached the living area, you saw Joel standing in the doorway, his face set in a hard line. Beside him stood a teenagerâa girl who looked no older than sixteen. Her clothes were ragged, and she had a wary, defensive posture.
The girlâs eyes flickered between you and Joel, her expression a mix of fear and defiance. Joelâs anger was palpable, and it was clear that the situation was tense.
âJoel, whatâs going on?â you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though you felt a pang of anxiety at the sight of the girl and the intensity of Joelâs demeanor.
Joel's eyes shifted to you, the anger in them still evident but now mixed with a hint of exhaustion. âSheâs got a name,â he said, gesturing toward the girl. âHer nameâs Ellie.â
Ellie looked up at you, her eyes wary but hopeful. Joelâs expression softened slightly as he continued, âTurns out sheâs supposed to be delivered to the Fireflies.
You glanced at Joel, understanding dawning. âYouâre going to take her to them,â you said, looking back at Ellie. âAnd youâll have the chance to find Tommy along the way.â
Joel nodded, a hint of resignation in his stance. âYeah, thatâs the deal,â he said.
âBut what aboutââ
Joel cut you off gently. âI know itâs a lot to take in. We need to leave now. Thereâs an opportunity for us to get out of the QZ and head to a place where things might be better. But it means we have to move fast.â
Ellie shifted uncomfortably, glancing between you and Joel. âI donât want to be a problem,â she said quietly. âIf itâs too muchââ
âNo,â you interrupted, shaking your head. âItâs not that. I just⊠Iâm not sure what to do. I mean, this is all so sudden.â
Joel stepped closer, his expression earnest. âWe donât have much time. We need to move quickly before things get worse. I know itâs hard, but this is our chance to get out of here. To find some place where we can start over.â
You looked at Joel, the weight of his words sinking in. âAnd what about the baby?â you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. âHow will weââ
âWeâll figure it out,â Joel said firmly. âWe have to. Thereâs no time to waste. This is our chance to make a new life, to give the baby a better chance.â
You took a deep breath, feeling the gravity of the situation. âAlright,â you said finally, nodding. âIâll do it. Weâll go. Just⊠letâs make sure weâre ready.â
Joelâs face softened with relief, and he gave a nod. âGood. Tess will be back soon. We need to pack up and get out before anyone notices weâre gone.â
As you hurriedly packed, a thought clawed at the back of your mind, growing louder and louder until it burst out of you in a shaky whisper. "But Iâll be a burden," you said, your voice breaking. "Iâll slow you down, Joel. You know it."
Joel stopped what he was doing, turning to face you. "No," he said firmly, the word cutting through the tense air like a knife. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes. There was a fierce intensity in his gaze, something raw and unwavering.
"Youâre not a burden," he insisted, his voice low and filled with emotion. "You're the reason I wake up every day. I wouldnât be alive if it wasnât for you, baby. Without you⊠without you, nothing makes sense anymore."
Your breath hitched, and tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, his words breaking down the walls you had built around your fears. Joelâs hands trembled slightly as he continued, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek.
"So, if this is the chance I have to give you a life you deserve in this shithole," he went on, his voice steady but thick with emotion, "then Iâll take it. Iâll take you with me and give it to you and our baby. I promise you, Iâll do whatever it takes to make sure youâre both safe. I wonât lose you. Not now, not ever."
You could feel his sincerity, the depth of his determination to protect you and the life growing inside you. You felt a wave of emotions crashing over youâfear, relief, hope, and love, all swirling together. You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch, letting his words sink in.
"Joel," you whispered, your voice trembling, "I⊠I donât know if Iâm ready for this, for any of this."
His grip on your face tightened just a bit, his gaze never wavering. "Neither do I," he admitted. "But weâll figure it out. Weâve faced worse, and weâre still standing. Weâll get through this. Together."
You nodded slowly, your heart hammering in your chest. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. "Iâm not letting you go," he murmured.
Ellie stood by the door, her arms crossed, an incredulous look on her face. "Are you seriously risking your pregnant girlfriend?" she asked, her voice sharp with disbelief. She looked between the two of you, clearly struggling to understand the situation.
Joel turned his head, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features, but he kept his voice calm. "It's not that simple, kid."
Ellie scoffed. "Seems pretty simple to me," she shot back. "You're dragging her and⊠whatever's in thereâ" she gestured vaguely toward your stomach, "âthrough god knows what to get me to the Fireflies. What if something happens?"
You took a deep breath, stepping forward to meet Ellieâs eyes. "I know what I'm getting into," you said firmly. "I can take care of myself."
Ellie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and what if you can't? I mean, what if you get sick or something? What if you get hurt?" Her voice softened, just a bit, the worry evident. "Itâs not just about you anymore."
Joelâs jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. He turned to Ellie; his tone more measured. "I get it, Ellie," he said. "But leaving her here⊠leaving her in this place⊠thatâs not an option either."
Ellie threw her hands up. "Great, so itâs a lose-lose situation."
You couldnât help but let out a small, dry laugh. "Pretty much," you said, trying to inject some lightness into the tension-filled room.
There was a beat of silence, the reality of the situation settling over everyone. Joel reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "Weâll figure it out," he murmured, more to you than anyone else.
Within a short time, Tess arrived, and the group of you prepared to leave the apartment, stepping out into the uncertain world beyond the QZ. The prospect of escaping to a new place, combined with the responsibility of ensuring the safety of both Ellie and your unborn child, loomed over you.
Joel led the way, his eyes scanning the area as you followed, Ellie close behind. The journey ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for a new beginning.
As you stepped out of the QZ and into the unfamiliar landscape beyond, the weight of your situation pressed heavily on you. The world outside was a mix of desolate ruins and overgrown wilderness, a stark contrast to the relative safety of the quarantine zone. With each step, you could feel the gravity of the journey ahead, not just for yourself, but for your unborn child and Ellie, who now looked up to you as a beacon of hope and guidance.
Joel walked beside you, his presence a constant reassurance in the chaos. He kept a vigilant eye on the surroundings, his hand occasionally reaching out to make sure you were close. Tess, ever practical, moved ahead, scouting the path and ensuring that it was as safe as possible.
Ellie followed behind, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. The harsh reality of the world outside the QZ was a stark contrast to the relative safety sheâd known, and she looked to you and Joel for guidance and protection.
The landscape seemed to stretch endlessly, with the occasional remnants of civilization scattered among the ruins. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with potential threats and unknown challenges. Yet, with Joelâs hand firmly grasping yours and Tess leading the way, you found a small measure of comfort in the unity of your group.
As you walked, Joel glanced at you occasionally, his gaze softening when he saw the lump forming in your throat.
With each step you took away from the QZ, you felt a mixture of trepidation and hope. The future was uncertain, and the dangers were real, but you were determined to face them head-on, for yourself, for your child, and for the family you were trying to protect.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction#joel miller series#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller imagine#joel miller angst#tlou fanfiction#joel the last of us#joel x reader#Joel Miller#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#the last of us#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal
1K notes
·
View notes