#and i looked at them. and i almost cried from joy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

frostsinth · 3 days ago

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Your Heart's Got Teeth - Pt. 4

Part 1|2|3 - Masterlist

Here, have another part! More juicy. Language warning. Likes, reblogs, and comments are my writing fuel!

I've pretty much written this piece out to its end, just have to fill in the gaps between the scenes. Already plotting my next project... DM me suggestions if you want.

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“Jamie!”

“Curt!”

“Bal!”

The cries and shouts of glee filled the air, more and more names, more and more exclamations of relief, or joy, or love. I watched as each young man embraced his family. Watched tears well in eyes, watched souls shatter as the reality of what had happened settled on their faces. More than two dozen men in all, perhaps more. It had never been a large village, but now, it felt almost hollow. The men once prisoners now staggering about on legs they hadn’t properly used in weeks. Half the number the village had been prior to the attacks, not including the soldiers who had also entrenched themselves within the walls prior to.

None of them walked among the men now returning.

I stayed on the roof where I had been attempting to patch one of half a dozen holes. Watching the heartfelt reunions. Uncertain how to feel. The orc guards who had brought the men down the hill lingered at the edge of the village square, also watching. Though I had to admit, they looked a bit bored. Not begrudging or upset that they had to release the men, as I would have thought they might have been. I placed the hammer down, slipping back to the window and into the house. Suddenly feeling terribly, terribly useless and alone.

I snuck out the back, away from the crowds and reunions. There was no one there looking for me, I knew. And I wasn’t in the mood for being shuffled about to say some awkward welcomes or blessings to men I had only met maybe once or twice before in my life if at all.

I went to the edge of the square, noting a patrol of orcs lounging in their usual place. They looked up as I neared them, but made no move to stop me. I considered that, so different from previous days, and decided to test it further. Walking quietly towards them. Their eyes followed me, yet I passed them by unmolested. Out into the streets of the now decimated village. I breathed a sigh of relief when I was just out of eye shot, feeling a moment of glee fill my chest.

So the bastard had made good on his word. I felt my lips twitch. Without prompting… And with additions. My feet hurried as I realized my newfound freedom, limited though it was. I made my way to the village edge, past a few other patrols who only made note of my passage. Not slowing until I passed under the half ruined gate and the stone wall was behind me.

Now I stopped, turning my face up towards the sun. Closing my eyes and taking in a deep breath. It wasn’t much, I admitted. But it was something.

“Calliope!” Came the excited call, and I turned. Resisting the urge to sigh.

“Izu’lemi.” I replied as the lanky tween walked up with a crooked grin on his face. “You’re starting to make a habit of this.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Of what?”

“Appearing out of thin air whenever things around here suddenly improve.” I glanced over our shoulders, back towards the village’s main road. I noticed a few guards lingering along the remains of the wall, watching us, and resisted the urge to sigh again. At least there were no villagers around. “Are you following me?”

“No,” He said with a shake of his head, “My father had me clearing rubble from one of the stairwells, so that we can access the top of the wall again.” He pointed out the spot a few yards down. “I saw you walk by. Why, what happened?”

I crossed my arms, tapping the fingers of one hand on the opposite. “The men were released.”

“That’s good, right?” He mused. “Is that one of the things you asked father for?”

I paused a moment, the realization fully dawning on me. “… No. It’s not.”

“Oh.” The youth seemed to think about that for a moment, then shrugged a little. “Maybe he got tired of managing the guard shifts.”

I looked towards the hill, just visible above the rooftops, as if I could see the orc chief’s tent from here.

“I doubt it.”

More than likely he had other reasoning. One far more sinister. I wondered if perhaps he intended some other punishment, or thought to keep all the cattle together rather than separate. I tapped my fingers again, then looked over at the younger orc. Realizing belatedly he had spoken.

“What?”

“I said, what are you going to do first?” He repeated. “Now that you can leave the square?”

I turned towards the woods. “I need to go hunting.”

“I think you need permission.” Izu’lemi said. “Cuz it’s further than where we can see on top of the wall.”

“Right, how long will that take?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. You’d be the first to ask.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “I can ask for you. The kil’wan is friendly with me.”

“The what?” I asked.

Izu’lemi stratched the side of his head. “Ah… it means… umm.” His brow scrunched up. “Leader? But not like my father. Below him. The warriors listen to him, but he listens to my father.”

“Captain.” I reasoned, and he shrugged.

“Yeah maybe. But I can ask him for you.” Then his grin returned. “Maybe I can ask to be your guard!”

“Izu’lemi,” I sighed at his eagerness, looking down at the ground, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“But-”

“You don’t owe me anything. Life debts aside,” I added quickly, raising one hand even as the protest formed on his lips, “I’m too old for you. You should marry someone you actually like.”

“But I do like you!” He argued.

I raised a brow at him. “You don’t know anything about me.”

He winced a bit at my sharp tone. “Well, maybe you should tell me.”

“I’m not the sharing type.”

Izu’lemi’s bottom lip jutted out stubbornly. “Then I’ll just follow you around. Until I figure it out.”

I almost groaned. “Don’t do that.”

His grin returned. “Then just tell me something. And I won’t have to.”

“Fine. I’m not marrying some kid.”

His face fell, which made a little pang of regret stab my heart, and his pouting lip returned. “I’m not a kid… and I’m not marrying you yet. I’ll be an adult when we do-”

“Izu’lemi-”

“You can call me ‘Izu’ if you want.”

“Izu’lemi.” I repeated firmly. “You are a kid. You not going to want to marry me when you’re not a kid. Just let it go.”

“I’m thirteen.”

“Congratulations. You’re still a kid.”

“I’m not-”

“I’m thirty-three.” I interrupted. “When you’re twenty-three, I’ll be forty-three. When you’re forty, I’ll be sixty.”

He chewed at his lip. “… That’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Because you don’t understand.” I sighed, putting my hands on my hips. “You will, I hope. Someday sooner rather than later.”

“You can wait for me.” He told me eagerly, and now I did groan. It was like talking to a brick wall.

“You’re as thick headed as your father.” I muttered. Then turned and headed back into the village. Resisting the overwhelming heaviness that settled on my shoulders as I passed beneath the stone gate.

“Where are you going?” Izu’lemi called.

I heard him jogging after me, and sighed again. “… I’ve got to see someone.”

“Can I come?”

“No.”

He scoffed lightly. “Well, you need a guard.”

“Not within the walls.”

I saw him chew at his lip out the corner of my eye. “But I could come. Just to make sure no one bothers you.”

“Izu’lemi.” I spun on him, my face scrunched in frustration. “You want to learn something about me? I like to be alone. Alone alone.” I clarified as I saw him opening his mouth. “It’s better if I’m alone. I am not a nice person.”

“You’re nice to me.” He argued.

“Sometimes. Don’t make me regret that.”

He sighed, then reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “Ok… I’ll see you later, I guess.” He turned slightly, looking back at the wall. “Inu’u gave me a bunch of things to do. To help the camp. So I guess I’ll do that.”

“Good.” Came another familiar voice, and I groaned again. “You can do as you’re told.”

We turned together to face Jou’kiel as he approached, another orc at his shoulder that I didn’t recognize. I saw his eyes flicker over me, felt my heart flutter a bit. Suddenly remembering the softer way his face had looked the last time I had seen him. Wondering what he remembered from that night. He glanced at the other orc, grunting something in orcish which had them chuckling. I felt my ears burn hot and a scowl returned to my face.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Don’t you have anything nice to say?” He replied in Common, then gestured towards the square. “I thought you’d be more grateful.”

“Grateful you’re not a complete bastard?” I asked. “Grateful you realized you were being inhumane?”

He jerked his thumb at himself, returning my scowl. “Not human. Orc. Definition of ‘inhuman’.”

“Definition of idiot.” I retaliated. “I said ‘inhumane’. Barbarous. Brutal. Cruel.”

He shoved his finger at me, snarling a bit. “You should watch your mouth. And I thought I told you to stay away from my son.”

“Inu’u, you can’t order her away!” Izu’lemi cried, shoving himself between us. “She’s going to be my mate, whether you like it or not.”

“Oh save me the dramatics,” I half mumbled in a bitter tone, “I was just leaving anyway.”

“Good. Fall in a pit somewhere and stay there.”

“Go to hell and take your horde with you.” I shot back.

Then I turned and marched away, ignoring Izu’lemi’s farewell and the smattering of angry orcish that rose in the wake of my exit. I couldn’t resist a glance over my shoulder though. And found a pair of copper-yellow eyes staring after me. I straightened, pretending I hadn’t noticed, ducking around the next corner.

My feet knew the path well, even if the streets were not what they once were. It was the only place I would have visted regularly when coming to the village. Even with buildings crumbled in my path, even with orcs wandering the alleys between. Even without really thinking about it. I followed the same trail towards the back side of the village that I had a thousand times before. Feeling myself sink a bit into my thoughts, finding my feet slowing as I approached the old rickety fence off the beaten path.

The winter frost had kept the weeds from overgrowing during our containment in the square. And the site was far enough away from the nearest building that it almost felt as if the invasion hadn’t reached here. There was some errant rubble. A few burn marks where a stray fire might have made it before the cold, damp grass had prevented it from finding its way further. As I passed through the opening, I felt an eerie stillness settle over me. As if I had entered another world.

I walked past the other stones in the graveyard, to one in the back. Half hidden behind a scraggily tree. I reached out as I approached, lightly tracing my fingers over the top as I rounded the corner.

“Hey bud.” I said softly. “Sorry it’s been so long… I didn’t want anyone to know you were here. Hope you’ve been good.”

I rubbed my brother’s tombstone, absentmindedly clearing some dirt. My fingers lingering over the etching of his name. Remembering carving it myself as carefully as I could through thick tears more than five years prior. I slowly settled in front of the stone. Brushing aside the leaves. Trimming back some of the weeds.

“You’d have been excited.” I told him. “Having orcs here.” I smoothed my skirts down, staring at my hands. “And you would’ve thought it’s funny, that some kid wants to marry me.” I glanced at the stone forlornly. “I hope you’re having a good laugh, wherever you are.” I choked a bit, swallowing hard. “… I miss your laugh. I could use your laugh about now.”

I sniffled, then rubbed the back of one hand at my eye stubbornly. Swallowing again, and looking around. Wondering if any of the other villagers would bother coming here now that they could… Wondering how many fresh graves would be added once the ground thawed. Or if only tombstones would. Being that they had no bodies left to bury…

“I’m such an idiot.” I told the cold stone, my voice frightfully weak. “I should never have let that stupid kid go. I should never have… Ugh.” I rubbed at my face with both hands, feeling them shake as I did. “If the villagers ever find out that I’m…” I stopped, my voice breaking. “… I wish you were here. I wish you could tell me it’s not my fault. Even though it is. Gods above… I can’t believe how much I miss you sometimes.” I rubbed at my eye with the back of my hand again. “I miss your hugs. I miss your smile. I even miss the goofy jokes you made.” I choked again, my throat feeling tight. “… The villagers still hate me. They pretend they don’t, but maybe now that the men are back they’ll remember. That I’m angry and bitter and awkward.” I sighed, shaking my head a little. “They should hate me now more than ever, even if they don’t know why.”

I stared off towards the square, my face blank. My heart feeling numb and achy. Letting the cold seep into my legs through the frozen ground. Feeling the tips of my fingers fall asleep with the chill. The balls of my cheeks tingled with the cold too, and I felt the stinging of it at the tips of my ears. Still I sat for a long time. Wishing I could sleep, but unable to remember the last time I had been able to without the screams filling my ears. Without the guilt racking my chest.

I sniffled again, then rubbed at my nose.

“… You’d have liked Izu’lemi.” I said softly, still staring off at the village. “He’s a lot like you, in some ways… Maybe how you could’ve been, if things had been different.” I scoffed lightly, dropping my gaze to my hands. “Not at all like his father. The picture of big and stupid.” My heart skipped suddenly as I remembered Jou’kiel’s hand around mine. Remembered the smell of him as he had leaned across me. “… He’s annoying too.” I continued stubbornly. “And cocky. And arrogant… The man is like a barn; big, but full of straw and shit.” My lips almost twitched into a smile. “Gods only know how he does anything. So full of hot air, I’m surprised a stray needle hasn’t popped him yet.” I glanced back at my brother’s tombstone, falling quiet. Thinking for a moment. “… You probably would’ve liked him too.” I admitted. “You liked everyone. And Jou’kiel is…” I stopped again, then shook my head. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter does it?” I sighed, reaching out and laying my palm flat against the rock. “You’re just a stone now… though you’re still a good listener…” I dropped my hand and sniffled a final time. “I should get back. Before someone does something stupid… I owe them that. More than they know.”

I stood slowly, brushing my hands down my skirt, then running my hand over the stone a final time. Silently promising to come back soon. I didn’t say anything else though. I could never actually say ‘goodbye’ outloud. I stubbornly pretended I had never realized that, as I did every time I visited, and wiped at my face. Clearing my throat and straightening myself out.

Stomping back to the village with a scowl fixed back in place.

------

Some men had never come back, and some had found they had nothing to come back to. There was some prayers said, now that we could fully assess who was missing. But the pressing issue of being able to survive the winter took the majority of people’s focus.

With those men that had returned, it was faster to gather wood. Soon the forest line had receeded an extra few yards for all the trees cleared from it. The women gathered what they could from the bushes there as well, and were able to sow a few of the small fields within eyeline of the wall. A few old stores were pulled out of cellars from those houses and the ones further from the square. Some clay and thatch was gathered from rubble and source alike. A few chickens were re-captured and brought into the village, as well as other livestock that had escaped their pens and managed to survive the few weeks untended.

I set snares and traps at the treeline. Away from the lumbermen. I persuaded an orc at the wall to lend me his huge bow and arrows while he watched, and shot a few geese that had dared fly too close to the village. I missed my own bow. Their bow had been hard to wrangle, but with some jest and some broken pointers, the orcs had taught me the best way to manage it. They seemed amused, and perhaps a bit impressed with my skill as a hunter. I made a point not to linger.

Overall, I avoided orcs and villagers alike as best I could. Preferring to keep to myself as I always had. Waiting for formal permission to leave to hunt. Escort or otherwise, I itched to get as far from the village as I could. Wondering if I would be permitted to go to my cabin, or if I would have to make due with the hunting supplies I could garnish from the orcs.

I was getting more and more restless. It didn’t help that I still wasn’t sleeping very much. That I still stayed in the drafty attic of one of the most decrepit buildings in the square. So when the quickly raising voices reached me, I was more than willing to track down the source only a few buildings down from my own make-shift shelter.

I found two orcs shoving each other back and forth in one of the less sturdy buildings still mostly standing. A fact very evident considering one half of the building was completely gone. Leaving the brawl visible to the square. I heard the villagers shouting their protests, but the brutes didn’t seem to hear them. And the villagers weren’t interested in getting any closer to make sure they did.

I had no such qualms, and ducked through the remains of the doorway.

“Hey, dumbasses!” I shouted at them.

They paid me no mind, the largest grabbing the other by the shoulders, then slamming him against the wall. The whole building shook, and I looked up at the ceiling warily. I had to jump to the side a minute later as the two orcs toppled and rolled across the ground. Slamming into the opposite wall and sending a shudder through the remaining stone again.

I reached down, picking up one of the newly loosed stones, and chucked it at the biggest orc. He froze, shoving his opponent back. Looking over his shoulder at me.

“Knock it off!” I said.

I had their attention now, and they turned almost as one to address me. Slugging each other a final time before climbing to their feet. The biggest taking a lumbering step forward. Baring his teeth.

I pointed to the half crumbled ceiling, then gestured around to the building at large.

“You idiots are going to knock it down on yourselves.”

If they understood me at all, they made no sign of it. Another lumbering step, another angry snarl. The other orc gathered closer, shoving at the first as they rallied for space. Which had them shoved back heavily into the wall, and the building shook and groaned again. I glanced about warily, then back at the biggest orc.

“Are you stupid??” I demanded, then pointed to the door. “Go fight somewhere else!”

I barely dodged his swinging fist and staggered back a few steps. The pair shoved at each other, then advanced towards me. In my haste to avoid being struck, I had moved away from the door, and now found myself effectively cornered. Realizing that with each angry stomping foot, the building became more and more likely to collapse.

But the pair were obviously not of joint determination. They shoved at each other again as they approached, then fully spun at each other to roar. Slamming each other into the wall. Shaking the foundations again. Perhaps fighting over who got to kill me. I grabbed another rock, chucking it at them. Then another. They snarled, spinning back on me. One even went so far as to pick up a stone as well. I ducked and it crashed into the remains of the wall behind me, and I felt mortar fall into my hair.

“Idiots!” I snapped, making sure to manuver back towards the door. I moved to pick up another rock. Even craned my arm back to launch it at them in retaliation. Hoping to draw them out that way.

Something firm grabbed my wrist, halting the throw before I could fully swing it forward. Twisting and forcing the rock to drop from my grip. I kicked instinctively, and heard an irritated grunt. Then the offender swung me fully around towards them.

“By the gods,” Jou’kiel groaned, “Why is it always you?”

I wriggled in his grasp, my scowl growing. “They are obviously punishing me.”

He tossed my hands back to me, turning and speaking to the other orcs angrily in their native tongue for a moment. The orcs grunted almost as one, shooting me a disapproving look. Then turned and made their way out of the building.

“I don’t know who is worse,” Jou’kiel sighed, switching back to Common as he returned his attention to me, “You or Izu.”

“I’m not a child.”

“You act like one.”

“I act like a child??” I snapped. “You are the one stomping around in a tantrum all the time.”

He growled, stalking a few paces around me. “Why are you even here? This building-”

“Could come down at any minute.” I interrupted, which had him glancing around warily. “And your stupid warriors were playing with its frame. Asking for it to collapse onto innocents in the next building over.”

“You have no authority to force them out.”

“I have the right to keep us safe!” I argued. “None of you have brains enough to do it!”

His growl filled his chest, his face, and his brow dark. “Quiet yourself,” He warned, “Or I’ll do it for you.”

“What, don’t want your warriors to hear you being scolded like a child?” I quipped, not bothering to lower my voice. “Or don’t want your prisoners to see that you are an idiot?”

Jou’kiel leered over me, his scowl deepening. “Don’t push me, huntress. I have been civil-”

“Civil?” I interrupted angrily. “You call this civil?? Of all the arrogant, bull-headed-”

He grabbed my arm roughly as he bared his teeth, then stopped, shaking his head. Glancing around angrily.

“Come with me.” He hissed instead, already dragging me behind him without waiting for a response.

“Let me go!” I half shouted, trying to tear my arm free.

He dragged me out of the building, then down the street. I saw a few of the orcs raise their heads as we passed, saw a few eyes peek out from behind shuttered windows. I punched at his arm with my free hand, but found it hurt my knuckles more than it seemed to faze him. Deciding instead to try and dig in my heels. Both made little difference, and I staggered after him as he steadfastly plowed forward. Finally ducking into a building a few yards away and slamming the door behind us so hard the foundation rattled.

He tossed me free, and I glared up at him angrily.

“What is your problem??”

“YOU.” He snapped. “YOU are my problem, you foul, irritable, bane of my existence.”

I scowled at him. “What, for saving your stupid orcs from being crushed alive?”

“Not-”

“Or for saving your stupid son?”

His eyes darkened and he bared his teeth at me again. “Don’t.”

I tossed up my hands. “Maybe for making you realize you aren’t just ‘passing through’. That the people here aren’t just ‘unfortunate ramifications’.”

Jou’kiel stalked closer, glowering at me. “Do you really think yourself high and mighty?” He snarled. “So beyond repercussion?”

“Well, I’m certainly no prince.” I jeered.

He nearly shook, gesturing angrily with his hands. “You have no idea what I have done. What I have sacrificed. Don’t you dare judge me.”

“Should I let you judge me??” I shot back. “Should I just roll over and accept your boot on my back?” I waved my own hands about dramatically. “The poor little prince. He does suffer so.”

I almost jumped as Jou’kiel let out a roar, his jaw dropping wide and baring his huge teeth. Spittle shooting out as he shook his head and threw his arms wide. One massive stride and he closed the distance between us. Shoving me against the wall before punching it with his fist so hard mortar trickled down on us. I refused to give him the satisfaction of flinching, fixing him with an angry glare.

“Gods above!” He snarled at me, his Common more harsh with the effort of using it in his rage, his hands reaching as if to strangle me, “I don’t ever know if I want to KILL you or… Or…”

He stopped short, breathing so heavily his broad shoulders heaved. His copper eyes hot and blazing as they stared me down. I glared back at him, feeling my heart in my throat. My own chest fluttering with nerves. Feeling a sound heat rising in me, feeling goosebumps race across my skin. He was so close, his hot breath splashed across my face. His nose practically brushed mine, and his thick braids were like a curtain around us. Shielding us in our own private bubble. Away from time and place.

“Or what?” I dared press breathlessly.

He let out a hefty huff which had the ends of my hair shifting in its wake. I noticed him shift closer, noticed his big muscles seeming to quiver with restraint. His fingers twitching as he pressed his palms against the wall. I felt my own tense at the sight.

“Or what??” I snapped again impatiently, unable to stand the coil of my nerves, and he growled, “Or WHAT, you big, stupid-”

I jumped as he suddenly crashed his mouth against mine.

The kiss was quick, and harsh. Almost painful. Even when he tore away a breath later, I felt the shape of his mouth on mine. I fell back following it and let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. My lips feeling like they were on fire. He stood there, panting a little, his hooded eyes flicking back down to my mouth. His big tongue tracing the inside of his.

My hand had come up instinctively with his movement, as if to push him away. But now, I felt it rest against the bare skin of his collar. Felt my breath sputter and skip. Felt my heart race and my face flush. He shifted slightly, and I shifted with him. More attuned to his body than I was my own. I tilted my head back, my hand inching up to trace along his thick neck. As if it had always been there. Feeling the anticipation building between us as the realization of our shared interest spread.

Then it snapped. And he plowed back in, breaking the tension with his mouth against mine once more. I responded eagerly this time. Grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into me. Feeling his hand go from the wall to my waist to curl my body against his. He bowed over me, encompassing me with his girth. Pinning me back to the wall a moment later as his lips greedily sought mine. His tusks pressed against my cheeks as his mouth worked against my own, and as I felt his thick tongue roll out I brought mine to meet it. Straining deeper, wider, to accommodate him. To suck in his heat as desperately as he sought mine. Feeling his hands grope and tug and pull. Bruising soft skin, pinning me first to his body, then to the wall, then back against his body as we writhed against each other.

I fed him a gasp as his hands caught under my thighs and he hoisted me up. Carrying me two steps to the left to plant my buttocks on a table there. It groaned as he leaned over me. Tearing our mouths apart only to bury his against the skin on my neck. There was a deep rumble of desire in his chest that rippled through me as he tugged my legs to either side of him. Submerging himself in my flesh. Kissing, licking, biting. Pushing the top of my blouse down to find the sensitive parts there. Feeling the hairs of his beard trail over my collarbone then between my breasts.

I wrapped my arms around his head. Running my hands over his braids. Squeezing my thighs around him. Letting my head roll back to allow him better access. He gave another rumble of pleasure, his groping hands eliciting another small gasp from me as his mouth worked across my skin. He pushed my skirt up further, pulled me closer to the edge of the table. Pressing himself against me through his furs.

I tried to shake my head. Tried to pull myself out of the heat that had engulfed me. Blinking rapidly and trying to draw in one deep breath amid the panting fever.

“Jou’kiel,” I breathed finally, my voice weak with want.

He growled against me. Leaning away at last only to plunge back to my mouth. I couldn’t help losing myself for a moment again there. Pulling him down with my hands cupped against the back of his head and neck. Relishing in the taste of his hot breath.

But a sudden rush of guilt filled me like a cold bucket of water. I turned away, pushing him back a little. He growled again, kissing my cheek, my jaw. Biting lightly at my ear.

“Jou’kiel,” I said again, more firmly.

He nibbled at my skin. “I like when you say my name.” He rumbled, his Common harsh with his arousal. His words hot against my flesh. “Especially with your cunt pressed against me.”

I let out a breathy huff. Struggling not to let myself be drawn in to his tidal wave again. Feeling the guilt slowly wrapping choking fingers around my lungs. I shook my head.

“We can’t.” I managed finally.

He pulled back sharply. Staring at me in surprise. His hands stilling, his heat ebbing.

“… What?”

I shook my head again. “We can’t do this.”

He ignored my hands attempting to push him further back for a moment. A small scowl forming in the corners of his mouth. Looking as though his brain was not fulling connecting my words with any meaning yet.

“Why the hell not?” He said finally.

“Just…” I struggled, fumbling with words. Then shoved him angrily. “Just get off me!”

He did step back. Dropping his hands. Staring at me a bit dumbfounded. He looked around, as if the answer he was looking for might be in the room with us. I rubbed my own hands across my face, trying to cool the heat still lingering.

“… Did you not… was this…” He looked back at me, confusion lining his face.

I dropped my hands, sighing. Trying unsuccessfully to fix my skirts still half bunched around my hips.

“We can’t let this happen again.” I told him. Finally sliding forward and dropping to my feet. Finding my legs a bit shaky.

“… So you did like it.” He reasoned. “You did want it.”

I refused to look at him. “It doesn’t matter.”

A low growl formed in his chest, and he shook his head. “Can’t stand the thought of sleeping with the enemy, is that it??” He shoved the nearest unfortunate item, which happened to be the table, and it slammed against the wall loudly, “Can’t bear the idea of your cunt being wet for me?”

I slowly fixed my blouse, my hands shaking. My heart aching in my chest. I blinked back tears, still staring at the ground. Then I set my jaw angrily.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I grumbled.

He glaried at me with a fiery look in his eyes. “Don’t lie to yourself.” He shot back.

“I don’t need some stupid idiot groping me.” I snapped. “Go fuck one of your whores and leave me out of your horny rutting.”

That made him scoff, and he tossed up his hands angrily. “You think I need to pay to fuck??”

I scowled. “Obviously you ran out of coin to come sniffing after me.”

“You’re the irritating little bitch with the wet cunt.” He sneered. “Or maybe you realized you couldn’t take an orc even if you didn’t hate us?”

“Get your head out of your ass.” I said bitterly. “Or go drown in the river. Either way, just get the fuck away from me.”

His hands balled into fists. “You vile, wretched twat.” He growled. “If you think-”

“Just shut up and leave me alone.” I interrupted, spinning my back to him to stalk towards the door. My exit belittled by the strange softness of my voice.

He gave a grunt, but it sounded dismissive. I was happy to find my legs obeying me as I made my way to the door. Pulling it open and ducking out before I lost my battle to keep it all together.

To be continued...

#terato #exophilia #monster lover #monster x human #slow burn #monster boyfriend #orc boyfriend #orc x human #your hearts got teeth #enemies to lovers #update #friday update

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flecks-of-stardust · 1 year ago

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[ID in alt text]

they're real :)

i still really really wish i'd got a lighter purple, but i never found the lavender yarn when i looked at my crafts store in person, and online it was all sold out or not the right kind of yarn. i ordered a ball that looked right, but it arrived and turned out to be a lot darker than i'd hoped for, so i gave up and used it anyways. worth it to me, honestly. being able to hold them makes me really happy :)

also i have a pattern for this if you want your own

#rain world #my art #crochet shenanigans #knit mischief #unparalleled innocence #uhhhhhhhhhhhhh what other tags do i use. i never fuckin remember #that's it i think #i was going to throw them at a wall but then i finished sewing them up #and i looked at them. and i almost cried from joy #and then i decided throwing them at a wall would just make me sad #they get kisses instead. on their bald purple head #smooch smooch #ID in alt text

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gor3sigil · 5 months ago

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Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

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gguk-n · 2 months ago

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Daddy Dearest (Oscar Piastri Dad fic)

Summary- Oscar is a girl dad.

There weren't many people who had Oscar wrapped around their little finger, except Amelia Piastri. Almost 2 years old and she could make Oscar dance like a chicken on the drop of a hat.

Oscar had met Amelia's mother and the love of his life, Y/N when they were in high-school. They started dating soon after. The year Oscar was a reserve driver for Alpine; he might not have been busy racing but he was busy with his girlfriend. The whole Alpine-Mclaren fiasco brought us baby Mia. It was a usual Thursday, Y/N had been stressing out about missing her period for the second time this month when she had regular periods since she could remember. A thought passed through her; it had been floating around in her head since last month. What if she was pregnant? Oscar and her had always been safe; but not a single contraceptive was a hundred percent perfect. So, without informing Oscar, she went to the store and bought a few tests. When the first one said positive, she did another and then another. By now Oscar had become aware of his missing girlfriend who was coup-ed up in their bathroom for the past half hour. He was knocking on the door; "babe, is everything okay? You've been in there since you returned" But when no reply came; the knocking became more rapid and worried. "Y/N, are you ok? Please answer. You're stressing me out" he begged. Then the door opened slightly. A tear stained Y/N was peaking her head out. Oscar pushed the door open and hugged her. He was scanning the room as his girlfriend's body shook slightly; that's when he saw it; pregnancy tests. He pulled away to look at her; "Have you been busy taking those pregnancy test?" he asked. "How do you know what they are?" she hiccuped. "I've watched TV growing up" he smiled. She nodded and handed the 3 tests to him. They all read pregnant in bold letters. Oscar was over joyed; "Are we gonna be parents?" he shouted. "You're not angry?" she asked. "Why would I be? I get to have kids with the love of my life. Best thing that could ever happen to me" he stated. For the first time since she got the tests, she smiled. "Aren't we too young though?" she asked. "Yes, but I could take on the world with you by my side" he said kissing her. "You'll be the best dad ever" she told him. "You'll be the best mum ever" he said. The pair stayed in each other's embrace for a long time. Oscar will never admit it but he cried and then went on reddit to research what to do as a first time dad.

Amelia was born the next year when Oscar was busy racing. He wasn't able to be there for the birth of his daughter; he might have called his mother and cried about being a shitty dad from the get-go. But his father later consoled him and told him it would be fine. Oscar flew out the first chance he got to be with his girlfriend who was being taken care of by both their parents. The first time he held Amelia, he had started crying as soon as she opened her big brown eyes and looked at him. She was an exact copy of him when he was a baby, at least that's what his mother said. Y/N had to console him instead of the baby. He was sat there with his arms wrapped around Y/N who held their daughter for a really long time. Y/N had fallen in love with the name Amelia after watching the Princess Diaries growing up and Oscar wasn't about to argue with Y/N about naming their daughter after the Queen of Genovia. That's how she was named "Amelia Opal Piastri"

Oscar kept them hidden from the world after they had mutually decided not to tell anyone except their close friends and family which some how, had now included Lando Norris, much to Oscar's dismay since his daughter from the moment she could speak called Lando her twin; Oscar hated it, he was just dad or daddy when she wanted something but Lando was her best friend and twin. Lando took great joy in having to be able to steal Amelia away. Lando was helping Oscar move since he'd been staying in Monaco longer and moving with a kid wasn't easy. Mia was being very difficult today until she saw her Uncle Lando and jumped out of Oscar's arms running to Lando. "Lan, I mwiss you" she pouted raising her hands as if to signal him to carry her. Lando quickly scooped her in his arms, kissing her cheeks which elicited giggles. She wrapped her arms around Lando's neck and turned to her dad sticking her tongue out making Oscar pout. "Come here, you're my princess" he whined. "NO. I wan Lan" she said and hugged him tighter as Oscar tried to pull her away. "Oscar, behave. We have a lot of work to do. If Lando can watch over her while we unpack, that'll be great." Y/N said kissing her daughter's cheek and giving Lando a hug. Reluctantly Oscar agreed to let Lando play with her while he got the house unpacked.

While the two unpacked, Lando kept their little princess entertained. "Lan, do you vroom vroom fast?" she asked playing with the race cars she had. "Yeah" he nodded. "my daddy, vroom vroom" she paused for a moment to think, "fast more, win, wohooo" she said jumping up when the Oscar car she was playing with won and Lando's car came in second. Obviously, Mia was growing up watching racing; her dad was a F1 racer. Lando laughed when she jumped up; "Uncle Lando won many races too" he said. "My daddy win 2 races" she said looking at her fingers, counting them and holding up 2. She looked proud of herself for holding the correct number of fingers, Lando was proud too.

All that playing had tired her out; she was now laying on Lando's chest mumbling gibberish about how Leo could fly while he patted her to sleep. Oscar came back to find his daughter peacefully asleep. "I hate that she likes you more than me" Oscar stated watching the two. "Who said that?" Lando tried to control his laugh. "You can see right now" Oscar pointed out. "Mate, she loves you so much. All we talked about was how her daddy is so fast and has won 2 races." he added. Oscar smiled, "I'll put her in her room, we just got done with that" he said slowly taking her to her bed.

The house would take a few more months before they would be able to be done completely. Mia was already enjoying her play dates with Leo and Roscoe. Alex and Leo would be over a few times a week since Mia would pester Alex to come over with Leo. Leo loved Mia so much, the two would always be seen rolling around on the floor or running after each other. They never seem to tire out until they did and then they would be cuddling each other in their sleep on the couch. Roscoe was an older dog and he had seen quite a few children, he kept Mia more tame if that was possible. He would look out for her and protect her from harms way. He was very protective of her; it was very adorable to watch.

During the break, Oscar was spending the 3 weeks with his family. Y/N had been taking the bulk of parenting their 2 year old which did make Oscar feel guilty and he would try to give her as much me time when he was around as possible. "It's time for a daddy-daughter date" Oscar cooed at Mia as he carried her to get dressed. "What does my princess wanna eat today?" he asked plopping her on the changing table. "I want dino and fries and juice and white icey and tuddles" she cheered. She couldn't say Vanilla ice cream yet so it was white icey and cuddles were tuddles which Oscar hoped she wouldn't out grow. Oscar changed her into a pink tutu on her request. The two of them sat on the sofa watching Bluey with their dino nuggets, fries and a juice. Once she was done eating, half the fries were in Oscar's mouth but who was counting; he got out the ice cream and this was the one food item she would not share with anyone. The latest episode they were watching finished up and Mia was cuddling her dad. Oscar rubbed circles on her back to help her fall asleep; "I love you my angel" Oscar whispered kissing her head. "I wuv you my daddy" she whispered kissing his chest. She had seen her mum do this a few times and Oscar's heart swelled up watching her imitate her mum.

Oscar and Y/N were busy setting up another room in their house when Mia found Oscar's phone unlocked. No one knew how she got onto Instagram but she did and ended up taking a picture of her face and posting it as a story. Within minutes Oscar and Y/N's phones were blowing up. Y/N saw messages from her friends and family to check Oscar's story; Oscar had already seen what his daughter did. The next race was gonna be so fun trying to explain who that was.

The driver's group chat was going crazy, they couldn't stop laughing about how Mia posted herself. The other drivers joked that she was sick of not being able to attend races so she decided to hard launch herself. McLaren's PR team was making a story up which Oscar shut down quickly. He had been dating Y/N for a long time and had a family with her, he wasn't about spin some shitty tale about it being someone else's daughter. This was the final push that Oscar needed to strike the iron when it was hot. Oscar would propose now; the ring he had bought was burning a hole in his pants for a while now.

oscarpiastri

Liked by landonorris, mclaren and 2,367,458 others tagged y/n.y/l/n

oscarpiastri To a lifetime of forever with the loves of my life��🧑‍🧑‍🧒

landonorris Mia is so cute in all the pictures, I'm stealing her👀👀 oscarpiastri landonorris NO YOU CAN'T HAVE HER😤😤 alexandrasaintmleux next Leo-Mia playdate when??🥹❤️ y/n.y/l/n alexandrasaintmleux Mia says tomorrow❤️❤️ logansargeant my fav Piastri is growing up so fast😭 Liked by the author mclaren such a beautiful family🧡 y/n.y/l/n mclaren I remember you trying to break it up 😐😐 mclaren y/n.y/l/n I was following orders, I didn't wanna do it🥲🥲 user1 too many things, I can't process it🤯 user2 he has a girlfriend, a daughter and got engaged all in one post🤯😭 user3🤯🤯🤯🤯 user4 Congratulations Oscar!!🧡🧡🧡 lewishamilton Congratulations you two!! ❤️❤️Mia said Roscoe is the ring bearer Liked by y/n.y/l/n charles_leclerc my beautiful granddaughter😭 user5 the Leclerc family is expanding at an alarming rate😱😱 user6 user5 does that make Leo her uncle??🤔 user7 What's her name?? user8 Mia is the cutest name for the cutest baby😍😍 user9 can't wait to watch her become a formula one driver😪 user10 only known her 2 days but if anything happens to her, I’ll kill everyone and then myself user11 the last picture🤤🤤 we might be getting baby no. 2🤭🤣

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luveline · 6 months ago

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hey jade! maybe this is a tad more angsty than you'd like but could I request prison!Spence getting a visit from bombshell!reader and Amy? or a phonecall with them? q

ty for your request <3 mom!reader, 1.4k

“Best behaviour,” you’re whispering, hand on Amy’s small back, her shoe digging into your hip. “I’m serious, baby. Big feelings are okay, but we can’t be loud. We can’t shout.”

She frowns. Amy’s been a little against you these last few weeks. “I’m not shouting.”

“I know.” You try and fail to divide your attention between her and the line you’re following. You almost miss the sound of the buzzer that ushers you forward. “Okay, I’m right here. I know everything has been super scary, and you’re my brave girl, but I’m right here. You can tell me anything. Okay?”

She rubs your chin with her nose. “Okay, mom.”

“Okay. Let’s go see daddy!” you cheer under your breath, enthusing your voice with some false joy.

Your nerves threaten to make you sick, but you have to be the put together one. This is the strife part of the marriage you’d signed up for. Though no one can blame you for handling it poorly —who could ever expect Spencer to be where he is right now?

You carry Amy into the penitentiary visitor’s room with apprehension, shoulders stiff, fingers aching against your little girl’s rough denim jacket. The room is laid out strangely, but there’s a clear division between the prisoners and the visitors, though there’s no overarching perspex. There are dividers, sure, but you can touch him. You can see him sitting near the middle of the room, his hair in violent disarray, his eyes locked onto you already.

You speed up your walking.

Desperate, your knee knocks into a chair as you try to touch his face.

Spencer lets you for a half a second, before he moves away. “You’re not allowed to touch me,” he says, voice laden with a raw apologeticness that threatens to trip you up immediately.

“Daddy!” Amy says, squirming in your arms, her foot on the desk as she tries to shove herself over the short partition.

Spencer, in a dads instinct, reaches for her without thinking. “Amy, Amy,” he says.

“No touching!” a guard shouts clearly.

Spencer pushes Amy gently back into your arms and holds his arms up in surrender. The guard veers his way, but walks off again when he sees Spencer’s compliance.

“Daddy,” she whines, holding out her hand.

“Sit down,” Spencer says to you.

You sit down. The gap between both you and Amy and Spencer widens, her little legs pumping restlessly into your thighs. You’ll be bruised as a soft pear when you go home, but you barely feel it now.

“Shh,” you say, wrapping your arms around her like a straight jacket. You don’t really have a choice. “Shh, baby, shh. Remember what mommy said, okay? We have to be quiet, or they won’t let us see your daddy anymore. We have to follow the rules.”

“It’s okay,” Spencer says. He clears his throat. “Hey, Amanda?”

She looks up in surprise at her full first name. “What?” she asks.

“God, it’s so good to see you.” His voice thickens with emotion, but he keeps a tight handle on it. “I miss you so much, sweetheart. So much.” He looks at you. “I miss you,” he says again.

“We miss you too.” You wipe your nose. “It’s weird just being mom and Amy at home.”

Weird isn’t the right word. Amy has cried herself sick five nights a week for the last month, because if her mom is home, why isn’t her dad? Why can’t she talk to him? Where did he go?

“When can you be home?” Amy asks, reaching toward the glass again.

Spencer looks around the room before he reaches over the half-partition to hold her hand. He gives you a look: watch my back.

“I don’t know yet,” he says, holding her hand tightly, and giving her fingers little squeezes, “I’m sorry, princess.”

You give him a look of your own: change the subject.

You miss Spencer more than you’ve ever missed another person. There’s never been a feeling as acute as this in your life, you don’t know what to do with yourself when you aren’t with him. The only thing you can do is be Amy’s mom, and you’ve always felt that Spencer made you better at it. Without him, you’re struggling.

He looks like he can tell.

He diverts his attention from you to Amy again, ducking his head, his face posed into his most loving smile. “You’re so pretty, just like your mommy. You’re getting prettier every day, aren’t you? Mommy told me you’ve been helping make your own dinner. That’s amazing. You’re my smart girl.”

“I make– made our favourite last night.” She struggles over ‘favourite’, but she’s as smart as her father. The words come easily. “We had, uh– butter chicken! And mommy made…”

You blink a small tear from the corner of your eye. “I made garlic naan. We toasted them under the grill, didn’t we?” you ask with a sniffle.

“Yes!” She looks back at you. “Dad’s plate.”

You wipe your cheek quickly. “We kept you some,” you say, fighting as hard as you can to stop yourself from crying at the table. You can’t break down here, and you won’t. “Amy was worried you’d come home and be hungry, so we saved you some.”

Spencer leans far over the table to squeeze your wrist. Behind him, the prison guard begins making their way to your table.

“Spencer.” You lean away before he can get caught.

Spencer snatches his hand back to grip the partition.

He smiles. “Angel,” he says clearly, looking you straight in the eye, “you’re doing so good. I can’t believe how amazing you are.”

“I’m gonna fix this,” you promise.

“No, no, angel, I just need you to look after yourself, and my princess.” He gives Amy a smile dripping with affection. “She needs lots of looking after. Don’t you, Amy? I know mommy’s doing such a great job looking after you.”

“I miss you,” she says.

“I miss you too.”

“Can I have a hug now?”

He looks back, right into the watchful gaze of the guard. He turns back with a smile that’s nearly convincing. “Not right now, I probably don’t smell very nice, and they don’t want me to get my gross smell on you.”

“Ew, daddy.”

“Ew,” he agrees, wrinkling his nose. “I wish I smelled like you and mommy. What smell is it today, baby?”

“Persimmon,” she says. She preens at the suggestion that she smells good, relaxing against your chest.

You kiss her temple.

“Persimmon,” Spencer says. He couldn’t sound more proud. “You know what? Persimmons have lots of meaning. They’re a symbol of perseverance.” He remembers to dumb it down. “People who eat lots of persimmons are strong, they can get through anything. Maybe when you and mommy go home, you can share a persimmon, and I can eat one here, and together we’ll be strong while we wait for me to come home.”

“You can come home now,” Amy says. “Come home with us!”

“I can’t,” he says gently. “It’s complicated.”

“I think daddy has the right idea,” you say, interrupting his explanation unapologetically, “I think we should go to the market when we leave and pick all the different fruits, and I’ll send some for dad here, and we can eat them at the same time.”

“Like a picnic?”

“I can make little sandwiches, and we’ll get your teddies,” you agree. “Whatever you want. But first, I think you need to tell daddy all about this week. What book have we been reading? Oh, and we got you some new shoes ‘cos your feet got bigger!”

He smiles lovingly. “Oh, they did?” he asks softly.

You know he’s gutted.

(Spencer gets out of prison almost two whole months later. He gives Amy a huge box of tangerines (with the white lie that they are persimmons, hard to find in DC, and your sweet girl doesn’t know the difference yet) with a new pair of converse wrapped in a red silk bow, promising that he will never miss another fitting. He doesn’t know where to start with you, that much is obvious, he’s so grateful to be home and he’s sick to his stomach with guilt, too. He doesn’t realise the only thing you needed was for him to come back.

The diamond necklace is a nice gesture, though not half as valuable as his face pressed to your neck as he sleeps, Amy on his stomach, their long fingers sticky with orange peels. It makes all your silent crying worth it.)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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kasagia · 1 year ago

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Losing your memory

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: He used to be your Coryo. Now he has become the man you don't know. The Plinth heir. The future president of Panem. You pray every day to forget about the sweet boy you fell in love with, on whom you could always count. To forget who he was and lose the memory of the past. Just like he did. Well... not exactly. Unfortunately for you, he still wants to remember you. Inspired by: "Losing your memory" by Ryan Star Word count: 7,2 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You've been avoiding him ever since you found out he was back in the Capitol.

A month ago, this news would have aroused great joy and ecstasy in you. Your Coryo is back home. He managed to shorten his exile and gain Dr. Gaul's favour again.

But the man who returned from District 12 was not your dear friend or lover. This wasn't your sweet Coryo, with whom you walked hand in hand to school. This wasn't the boy you shared your lunch with. This wasn't a boy who cared about your well-being above his own. This wasn't a boy who joked about snobbish children spoiled by the richest people in Panem with you and Sejanus at the end of the day. (Although he talked with them, trying to keep up good appearances—he used to call that one of the responsibilities of being Snow.)

The man who came back was Coriolanus. The new Plinth heir. The shell of someone you knew. The ruthless, cold pet of the mad creator of the Hunger Games you despised.

Sejanus' death didn't hurt you as much as the transformation of Coriolanus from the person closest to you into someone you barely even recognized. And from the tearful, sad, resentful, and disappointed stories you heard from Tigris, you had an accurate picture of the man who took your Coryo's place.

And you hated him with all your heart.

Especially after what he promised you when you stayed at his apartment for one snowy winter night.

You lay wrapped in the various blankets and quilts Coryo and Tigris could find. It was winter, and they didn't have much money for additional heating, so they mostly walked around the house in several layers and slept under piles of clothes.

You didn't know about that that night.

Tigris lent him her quilt so that he wouldn't have to be ashamed of the poverty his family had fallen into since you were supposed to come to sleepover with him after the argument with your parents.

Cuddling up to your blonde boy, you tried to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat. You frowned at the sound of it being a little faster than usual.

You lift your head and look at him carefully. His gaze is distant and thoughtful as he lazily draws patterns on your back as he presses you against his chest.

"Coryo?" you whisper, cupping his cheek in your hand tenderly and forcing those blue irises you have loved so much to look at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He sighs long and presses a kiss on your forehead, the tip of his nose stroking your hair, as he is inhaling your scent. "I just... I just think about the fact that you deserve so much more. My grandma and Tigirs deserve much more than... this." he says with disgusting pointing at the room you were in.

"This..." you say, clasping your hands together and pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Is more than enough. You are all I need. And one day, when you are President of Panem or any other important figure in the Capitol, none of you will lack anything. This is a temporary state. You are too smart to be anything less than great, Coryo. You know it."

You see him hold back tears. He pushed your head onto his chest to rest his chin on your head. He is not crying. He almost never cries. But you know how close he is to it by the slight quiver in his breathing.

"I know I don't show it often enough... but you mean... everything to me. I can't imagine how I would go through these all without you by my side."

"I love you, Corio. Just promise me you won't forget this. What you went through, what you experienced. Don't forget your struggle. That's something you should never be ashamed of." he tenses at your words but leans in to kiss you passionately and hungrily. Putting all his unexpressed emotions into action and into that kiss that warmed you more than any blanket or radiator could ever.

"I promise. I will never forget how you kept me sane. When you were the only shelter I could go to and the only support that could bear the boundlessness of my troubles and doubts. How you were my only moonlight in the worst of my darknesses." you laugh softly, recognising part of his words.

"Quoting poets will get you nowhere, Coriolanus Snow." you say teasingly, rubbing your nose against him, at which he chuckles, licking his lips.

"Well... I've learned that in some situations, it gets me somewhere. And it's a very cold night tonight, don't you think? I can't let you freeze to death." he says as his hands go under your shirt—actually, his shirt that you stole from his closet.

"Well… I guess there's nothing left for me… but to place myself under your solicitous care." you sigh softly as he pins you underneath him, making sure the cocoon of blankets is still tightly wrapped around the two of you.

"I couldn't have said it better." he whispers and presses his lips against yours, stealing your breath countless times. He pulls away just a little to say against your lips, "You're mine. We belong together. No matter what."

He makes you shiver as you eagerly agree to everything he says. You don't realise how, in the future, you will curse every single intimate, sweet moment you shared with him.

Ironically, you realise how deep he has gotten under your skin the moment he returns to the Capitol, and you have to avoid him, not when he is sent into exile.

It was probably because when he was gone, you were too distraught to bother leaving your room, opening the blinds, or wiping the tears that somehow kept leaking from your eyes to notice how almost every place reminded you of him. If you could, you'd go back in time and tell yourself there's no point in crying over the asshole he's become.

Although maybe you already felt that your Corio was leaving, and it was a way of mourning him?

Anyway, you saw him everywhere. Not Coriolanus. Coryo. He stalked you in the library, the park, the cafe near the academy that you two and Sejanus liked to go to, and of course the Academy itself. Kudos to your parents for not letting him into your house. At least he didn't pollute your room with memories of him.

Involuntarily, you wonder if he also sees you, for example, in every corner of his apartment. Or maybe he renovated it beyond recognition to erase all traces of his past?

You didn't know.

And you didn't want to know.

The information about him that Tigris gave you when you met her at your house when Coriolanus was at the university for classes was sufficient.

Just because it didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean you would abandon your only real friend. And just because things didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean she would stop (more or less subtly) encouraging you to go back to him.

"We talked about you." she says, making adjustments to your dress that she made for your birthday party thrown by your parents. Another one of the unpleasant responsibilities.

"You and your grandma?" you ask, trying to avoid HIM as a topic as much as possible.

"No. Me and Coriolanus." she says, pinning something to your waist—some decorative strip of fabric or something—you're not sure; you're too focused on the window and the bustling city as you are trying to ignore her words. "You know… I think… I think I saw in his eyes… the old Coryo. For a brief moment, but… maybe if you came back to him, he would come back to himself too."

"I'm sorry, Tigris, but I think he went too far on his path to simply go back to who he was. Surely not because of me."

"I understand… I just really miss him." she says it in a soft, broken tone, and your heart breaks at it. You hug her with all your strength, uniting with her pain that you also felt so deeply.

"Me too." you whisper in her ear as she cries into your shoulder.

Tigris was a very strong woman. She always impressed you. You wanted to be as strong as her. But even the toughest had to cry sometimes.

After all, there comes a time when even the snow melts... even if only for a little while.

You held him tightly in your arms as Corio cried into your chest.

His grandmother fell ill. Hard. Without a doctor, she definitely wouldn't be able to get out of this on her own, and they didn't have the money to pay for one, let alone the medicines.

Your boyfriend spent the whole day planning, thinking, and getting any money, but it was not enough even to buy the cheapest antibiotic.

However, you didn't expect that after you found out it all from Tigris and ran to him as fast as you could with the chicken soup prepared by your servants and all your pocket money, he would start crying.

Coriolanus Snow cried like a little baby.

You handed the money and soup to Tigris, who, after feeding up their grandma, quickly ran out with her to the doctor. At that time, you were holding your boyfriend in your arms in the other room, who simply fell apart from his helplessness.

"Shh… it's going to be okay, Coryo. She will live, falsify that stupid hymn and hate me for not being enough for you just as she used to." your attempt to comfort him didn't help. If anything, he only cried more, holding onto you tighter and tighter.

"I should be able to take care of them... I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. I'm pathetic and weak. I'm not worthy of being called Snow."

"Hey, my sweet boy, look at me. You are strong. You are the strongest man I know. You are looking after me all the time; you literally give me everything you have, the last piece of your food, to keep me happy, safe, and full when I forget to bring a damn second breakfast from home or don't have time to eat something. You love me, and I love you, and that's how it works. We care about each other. And I have never, ever regretted being with you. Because what we have… is more valuable than anything else in this world. I trust you implicitly, and I will always be by your side. You are not alone with your problems and suffering. Not as long as I am here."

"But for how long will you stay? For how long will you endure with me?" he asks, and after one look at those a little red from crying, beautiful blue iris, you answer without a shadow of hesitation.

"As long as you love me and I can trust you. As long as I breathe. As long as I am in your mind and heart. I am not going anywhere, Coryo. Money can be earned, but what we have... you can't buy it. What I feel for you is more dear to me than any treasure in this world and I will never exchange it for anything else." you promise, stroking his hair tenderly to help him calm down.

You should've then wondered why he doesn't agree with you then. Why doesn't he say that he also feels this way and that he also values you more than money, glory, and honours?

But he blinds you by telling you for the first time that he loves you.

And you cling to him, wiping the tears from his face with your lips and foolishly believing that your love is pure and eternal.

Like a driven snow.

You knew this day would come someday. The day you let your guard down. But you hoped it would take a little longer before you came face-to-face with Coriolanus.

You are completely unprepared for this. You just freeze like a deer in headlights when you see his face at the end of one of the university's corridors as he walks forward, looking for something in his bag. Before you can even think about running away, he looks up, probably feeling watched, and his blue, icy eyes meet yours.

You both stand there transfixed, looking at each other, taking in the changes in your appearance since the last time you saw each other, which was after you broke up with him, when you saw how tenderly he treated Lucy Gray and how comfortable he was around her. And after someone politely informed you that he had kissed her.

"Y/N!" Coriolanus calls out to you and takes a step towards you, but you quickly step back and run through the crowd of people to get away from him. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up that easily. He never does. "Y/N! Wait!"

You have no intention of doing so. You run as fast as you can, bumping into several students along the way. You don't even bother apologising; you just run, hoping that Snow will stop being hot on your heels. Which, by the way, was a miserable dream after how fit he was after his training and the time he spent as a peacekeeper.

On the way, you notice a woman's bathroom and immediately run into it. You lock yourself in a cabin, thanking God or whoever is up that you managed to get an empty cabin and hide in it. You hear his quick footsteps and the door opening, followed by the screams of other women in the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you hear him obediently leave the room.

You're not leaving, though. You are not stupid. You know he's waiting at the door for you to come out. You decide to wait here until the end of the break between classes and hope that he will drop the idea of continuing to chase you and talk to you, and he will attend the lecture instead.

As the bathroom begins to empty, you realise that the next lectures must be soon. You stand silently on the toilet seat, listening carefully, waiting for the right moment to emerge from your miserable hiding place.

Just as you are about to reach for the doorknob, the bathroom door opens. You shiver as you hear heavy footsteps echoing off the tiles of the empty bathroom. And you think that you can smell the subtle scent of roses in the air.

"Come on, Y/N. I know you're here. I just want to talk."

Said the snake moments before eating the bird alive.—you think, mentally mocking how gentle he was trying to present himself. As if he could still be your Coryo.

"I have time. I can play hide-and-seek with you, if you want to. After all, you always liked to play this when we were kids. And you always lost."

You roll your eyes, listening carefully to his footsteps. He was opening the first cabin. You were in the middle one—the one a little closer to the door (and him).

"We'll have to talk eventually. You can't avoid me and ignore me, no matter how good you are at it lately. Let's stop this ridiculous, childish behaviour and go talk over coffee and some of your favourite cookies at the cafe near the academy. Just like the good old days. Well, this time all your orders are on me. What do you say?"

You would have snorted if it hadn't immediately revealed your hiding place to him. How dare he invite you to the place where you, he, and Sejanus spent the most time? To the place where your first unofficial date was.

He wanted to manipulate you, to make you believe that your Corio is still there and lives behind the façade of the rich, arrogant asshole he has become. But you knew better. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Even without Tigris' help, you realised that he... was a completely different person. He turned into somebody you only used to know in the past.

"Seriously? Still nothing? So you prefer the hard way, then..." he says, opening another cabin. You wait patiently for him to come to yours.

You breathe as quietly as you can, trying not to let him know which cabin you're in. You listen to his slow, measured steps as, with the incredible confidence and calm that is typical of him, he opens each cabin door, moving inexorably towards you.

Your heart quickens, beating madly, when you see his shoes in the whole, under the cabin's door. He reaches for the door handle, and before he can open it, you push the door against him with all your strength.

You hear him curse, taking a few steps back in a daze and holding his nose. You take the opportunity and run to the exit of the bathroom as fast as you can, not looking back.

"Fuck! Y/N! Are you insane?!" he shouts, running after you.

You reach the door just in time and slam it behind you, sprinting out of the university. You get in your car and drive away with your tyres screeching. In the rearview mirror, you see him leaving the building and following your car with a furious glare.

"I can't believe you invited Snow." you huff, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your father is buttoning his cuffs, and your mother stands next to you, also putting the finishing touches on her appearance. "You hated him when we were together."

"He is an ambitious and clever boy. Plinth did well to make him his heir. You should reconsider whether he really is that bad. This match would have opened many doors for us. Not only among Plinth's allies but also among Dr. Gaul. God knows how she favours this boy. Who knows? Maybe one day he will be president of Panem."

"If so, I will run away abroad." you say it bitterly, putting your lipstick back in your purse and adjusting the necklace around your neck to make yourself look perfect.

"Don't be stupid. Snow wouldn't be so bad for you. Since you are our only child, we must marry you well. Make sure your husband doesn't blow our fortune in a week. And Snow is a thoughtful boy. He wouldn't let you live below the poverty line."

"And he's quite handsome." your mother adds, straightening your father's tie. "Still, he's not a womaniser. I heard he turned down the... special attention of Crane's daughter and a few other Capitol's girls. I guess he's been alone since your breakup."

"Hmm. Great. He wouldn't cheat on me with other snobs in the capital, but he would fuck with whores in the district. The perfect candidate for a husband." you scoff, walking with them to the next room, where the photographers were waiting to take a photo of you together.

“Language, Y/N. You are a lady. Besides, it is not certain whether he and this Lucy Gray actually had something between them. After all, she's a woman from the district.” your mom says this, smiling for the cameras.

The flashes blind you a little, but with your father's and mother's hands on your shoulders, you somehow manage to keep your pose, fake, pretty smile, and opened eyes.

Your father thanks them and leads you out of the room and into the corridor leading to the great hall where the ball was to be held.

"And even if he did, it's good that he had some fun. It will make him appreciate the treasure that you are and see that you are irreplaceable." he says, taking the box out of his pocket. He hands it to you with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, my treasure."

"We've already given her..." your father shushes your mother. You send them a confused look as you open the medium-sized box.

You find a tiara there. A small diamond tiara.

"It will match your dress perfectly." your father says proudly. You nod and walk to the mirror to put it on, despising the object in your hands with all your heart. You may look like a princess, but you've never felt so... disgusted with yourself before.

This feeling intensified even more when, after a toast and receiving wishes from several of your friends and more powerful families, you managed to sneak out to the balcony. Not long after you, all the single, young men of the richest family on the Capitol entered, with Coriolanus among them. They each took a cigarette and started smoking, gossiping about the events of the week…

And their topic of conversation was exactly what you were afraid of when you got that fucking tiara.

"Have you seen this? I bet they're pure diamonds. Old Y/L/N wants to marry her off so much that he's using every trick possible."

"He doesn't need to do much. She is beautiful in her own right. But this character… it's easier to train a dog than such a stubborn cow."

"What Snow? Are you now regretting that the Capitol's Diamond slipped from your hands? I heard she wants nothing to do with you. How unfortunate that it happened at the moment when you started to count in the eyes of the elite, and now you really have any chance of grabbing this precious gem for yourself."

The Capitol's Diamond. You shudder, thinking about the nickname you've been given.

That's what they called you. The sole heiress to your parents' fortune. Diamond of the Capitol, the best match in the city, with a dowry greater than any other woman. Anyone who won your hand was guaranteed to reach the top and success with your family's connections, your charm, beauty, and brain. And these vultures knew it perfectly well.

You were curious how the new Coriolanus would react.

Your Coryo only took advantage of your position in society when he had to. He didn't ask you for money or for you to convince your father to whisper a good word about him here and there. Maybe it was because of his pride; maybe he really didn't care. You have no idea. But Coryo despised that term as much as you did. You wondered if that had changed as well.

"I'm still in the game." he replies evasively, sipping his drink. The others laugh and he frowns in displeasure.

"Sure. Because the way she ran away from you today when you approached her with a gift says exactly that." they mock him. You see him clench his jaw, glaring at them coldly as he considers his next move.

"Enjoy it while you can. Your good mood will end when our cat-and-mouse game is over and the Capitol's Diamond hangs proudly on my shoulder." you huff, shaking your head in disbelief. You come out of hiding, and all the men on the balcony tense up and look at you in surprise.

Especially Coriolanus. Suddenly everyone is staring intently at the garden of your estate, too shy to look at you. Except Snow. He drills a hole into you with his gaze as he thinks of a way to undo what he said.

"Gentlemen." you scoff, walking past them and ignoring Coriolanus' glare. "For your information, I would rather live in one of the districts than marry any of you. Enjoy the party." you add sweetly, walking back to the ballroom.

The party is in full swing. You are talking to Thomas, using a sweet boy in a shameful way—to scare other men away from you. Just as you expected, they started flocking to you like flies to a fire.

So you chose the least spoiled of them. Thomas was nice and funny; you had a good time talking to him, and dancing with him was even better.

He wasn't rich; he wasn't part of the cream of society. You were really starting to enjoy spending time with him. And most importantly... he looked nothing like Coriolanus. He was nice for the eyes, but his dark hair, eyes, and sweet, shy personality made him drastically different from your ex. So he was the perfect break from your dramatic love life. Boring, nice change.

You danced to a waltz with him. He held you gently, close but respectful, not invading your personal space. He was a perfect gentleman. The man of your dreams.

If only Coriolanus' icy eyes weren't focused on both of you like a predator waiting for its prey to stumble, you would be able to enjoy Thomas' company to the fullest.

You are with him at the buffet, sipping drinks, when suddenly the last person you expected to meet here approaches you.

"Mrs. Plinth." you whisper in shock as he stands in front of you.

She looks—probably the way she feels. Nice on the outside and devastated on the inside. The dark circles under her eyes cannot be fully covered by makeup, and the deep black of her dress is a clear reminder of what she is still going through.

You can't imagine the pain he's going through right now. And you wonder why the woman decided to join her husband for your birthday party. Since Sejanus' death, she has rarely left their apartment.

"Y/N. Can I steal you from this young man for a moment?"

"Of course." you say, not even looking in Thomas' direction as you and Mrs. Plinth walk to one of the empty living rooms in your mansion. You close the door behind her and point to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or to eat?"

"No. There is no need, darling. I just… I just came here to give you something." she says, pulling a thick letter out of her purse. "I… the letters from Sejanus are still reaching us. The flow of information between the districts and the Capitol is… very heavy and long. Especially when the peacekeepers are now checking every one of his correspondence. He sent it to you. Or rather, he wanted you to send it to him. Or rather, he wanted you to have it, just in case he couldn't… I'm sorry."

Your heart aches with sadness, seeing her on the verge of tears. She probably has no one to talk to about her son except her husband. After all, Sejanus was a traitor of Panem…

"He was a wonderful friend. The best one somebody could have. I could always count on him. Thank you for... taking the trouble to give me a letter from him. That... means a lot." you say, fighting the urge to hug the woman. The Capitol is not famous for acts of tenderness, mercy, or compassion. You had to keep up a facade. Always.

You take the letter from her and walk her to the exit. You give her one sympathetic look—everything you could afford in your position—and close the door behind her.

You sit on the couch and open the letter with trembling hands, trying not to look too closely at the way he wrote your name on the envelope. You know that will remind you of how you taught him how to decorate letters in his first days at the Capitol. Because everything here had to be perfectly beautiful. Even the fucking handwriting.

A bracelet falls out of the envelope and onto your lap. It is not particularly beautiful or sumptuous. It is a simple strap holding a peg-shaped pendant with some black, crushed stone placed behind a piece of glass.

You place it on the coffee table and open the letter with trembling hands. You already feel that after all this you will have to fix your makeup, which you will probably ruin with tears, but Sej's letter cannot wait until the end of the party.

Y/N, If you are somehow reading this letter, it means that I am not at your 20th birthday party, which makes me very sad. (You know how I love celebrating in your garden away from these Capitol's snobs.) Coming back, you know that I wish you all the best (along with Coryo. He's too big of a stick up his ass to write to you, even though he misses you and can't stop thinking about you. Take pity on me and write to this stubborn idiot, because I don't think I can stand another tirade about you and your perfection. Seriously. Our boy is getting mad because of this despair. I don't recognise him at all.) So, my dear friend, I wish you the best. I don't have any trinkets, interesting books, sweets, or anything suitable as a gift here, so I hope you'll be satisfied with what I came up with. I am not a poet, so don't laugh at me. I shall hear... or not. I made the bracelet, which you've probably already seen, myself. And that stone that is inside (and I hope it survived) is coal. I wanted to give this to you as a symbol of who you are to me. Everyone sees you as a diamond, something precious and beautiful. But for me and probably other people close to you, you are something more. This shiny diamond facade hides carbon. A simple coal, an ordinary soul like many others. But you made something more out of that ordinary coal. You are a diamond. Indestructible, the most durable of all. The purest form, preserved among the other gems and stones of the Capitol, because that's what all these power-hungry assholes are—coals that have decided not to change, to choose what is easy for them. I hope now you can see why I liked that nickname for you, diamond. So I hope you always stay true to yourself. No matter what. That's what I learned here, and I want to pass it on to you. Although I hope that by then the three of us will meet again in the Capitol. Do not wait for us both, Sejanus P.S. I miss you too.

You fold the letter and put it back in the envelope. You wipe away the tears that remain on your cheeks with your hands and take a few ragged breaths, trying to calm down.

You freeze when suddenly someone's arms wrap around you. The scent of roses hits your nostrils.

You get up from the couch like you've been burned and push Coriolanus' arms away from you. The feeling of sadness quickly turns to anger and pure fury as you stare at Snow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you growl through a clenched jaw, extremely glad that there's a couch between you, or you'd hit him. And it was easier for you to explain your tears and smeared makeup than your red knuckles.

"Sweet, kind Plinth, giving you thoughtful gifts from beyond the grave. You love the dead Sejanus so much and ignore the living me. It must be hypocrisy on your part, don't you think? You accuse me of forgetting about Sejanus when you treat me so shamefully, worse than a dog. Should I die so that you can finally stop giving me the silent treatment and running away from me?"

"Believe me, you don't want to hear what I have to say to you." you huff, taking the bracelet and the letter. You hide them in the bodice of your dress and go to the mirror to fix your smudged makeup.

"You do not have to do that. Your boy isn't at the party anymore anyway." he says, standing so that you can see his reflection in the mirror.

"What?" you ask in surprise, turning to face him. You both stare at each other. In fact, you're only now getting a chance to take a good look at him. And you notice with dissatisfaction that the bastard found out from Tigris what your dress would look like, and he chose a suite so that both of you would match. "Where is Thomas?"

"Your little boy toy? Do you think he's enough of a distraction? That he can replace me? That he'll make you feel what I feel? Maby, that he can even protect you from me? Only I know you. I'm the only one worthy of your fucking attention and affection." you push past him, but he grabs your elbow.

"Touch me again and I'll cut off your hand and shove it down your throat." you growl, breaking away from his grip.

"Such aggression… I don't remember you from this side." he mocks you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You step away from him and cross your arms, staring at him defiantly.

"I will ask you one last time. Where is Thomas?"

"Let's just say that your mother and I caught him stealing your jewelry. We were merciful enough to solve the matter quietly. You will never see that garbage on the ball or any gala again. Certainly not on yours."

"Were you the one who framed him for this?" his silence and the calculating, self-proud look of the cat that caught the canary (or, in this case, the snake that choked the mouse) tell you everything. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you ask furiously.

You want to move past him, but he pushes you back, making you bump into the wall. He closes the gap between you in one step, pressing his chest against yours.

"You're mine. You've always been. You shouldn't lead this loser on or give him false hopes. We both know we will end up together."

"I broke up with you." you remind him, not caring about his intimidating attitude.

"A mistake I intend to fix." he says, leaning towards you.

His nose brushes against yours, and you shiver. You lift your leg, trying to kick him in the groyne, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees your sudden movement and grabs your thigh in a tight grip. If it weren't for the thick layers of material, he would probably leave bruises.

"You... you have nothing to fix. There is no longer us. I don't even know you anymore, Coriolanus."

"Don't." he growls at you angrily. You can see the desperation and madness in his eyes at the fact that you're using his name and that you wrote off your relationship. "It was always you. You were always mine, Y/N, and I was always your Coryo."

"Things are changing quickly. We are not the same, and now we have nothing in common, nothing to talk about."

"We have EVRYTHING to talk about. I still love.."

"DON'T!" you interrupt him. He freezes. You rarely shout, especially at him. That's why he takes a step back before putting on his impassive mask again. "Don't even say that. You have no idea what love is. Sure, you may feel attached and even desire me at some point, but you have no idea of unconditional, true love. So for old time's sake, leave me alone."

"What about you? Do you think you are so holy and blameless? That I'm the only bad guy? You lied to me. You promised you would stay with me, no matter what."

"I promised it to my Coryo. Not to you, Coriolanus. My Coryo died in District 12 with Sejanus—maybe even in the Hunger Games—when you let Dr. Gaul brainwash you in the name of fame, money, and position. You think that old hag didn't tell me why Sejanus is dead? That I don't know that your songbird has disappeared? That I would believe that Highbottom just got high or drank himself to death?" he clenches his jaw and fists at your words. You can see how furious he is, but he holds back, still controlling himself.

"Everything I did, I did for us. For you. For Tigris and Grandma." you laugh, wondering who he's trying to fool—himself, you, or both of you at the same time.

"No. You're doing it for yourself. Only for yourself, Coriolanus." he gets even more angry and pins you to the wall again. His cool blue eyes are raging with rage, and you try hard to push away the feeling of fear he has stirred in you.

"Do you want a reason to hate me? So you and Tigris can still gossip about my madness? Then maybe I should let this old man pursue her and sell her as a wife to one of them for good money."

"KEEP HER OUT OF IT! It's Tigris, Coriolanus! Tigris! The woman whose sacrifice you owe your entire fucking life to! A woman who went out of her way to give your ungrateful, selfish ass something to wear. Who sacrificed the love of her life in the name of maintaining the façade of Snow's wealth?! You can give a damn about me, Sejan, and even that little songbird of yours, but if you fucking ruin the life of your cousin—the only goddamn person who still cares about you—I promise you, in memory of OUR dead friend, that there won't be a fucking hole where you could hide from me."

You stare daggers at each other, both openly expressing your resentment towards the other. You have no idea why he still cares about you—is it because of your money, position, or some sick fantasy he has in his head, or maybe he actually still cares about you?

You don't think about it when a more important issue arises.

Suddenly, he grabs your face in both hands and pulls you towards him, greedily kissing you as he connects your lips after a very long time of separation. He caresses your lips with his and kisses you with such fervour as if he craves you like a hermit starving for water.

And for a moment, you feel like you were with Coryo, when all that mattered to you was the other one, when you could get lost in each other, forgetting about the rest of the world and the worries that were waiting for you.

And that's exactly what he's doing now. He makes you forget about anything but him.

You can't help but moan into his mouth as he presses his body against yours. When he releases his strong grip on your cheeks to grab you around your waist and press you against his body, his leg is between yours.

He kisses you more hungrily, groaning too at the familiar warmth of your body against him and the feeling of your soft, silky skin pressing against him. The scent of your perfume mixes, creating a perfect combination of roses and your favourite flowers. Your hands automatically go to his hair as you hold on to him and press him to you. You don't like the gel on your hands from his hair, but you ignore this new, irritating feeling by biting his lip.

You don't think at all. As well as Coriolanus. You both just kiss each other, your tongues joining, as you both let your desire for one another take control of the situation.

You only come to your senses when your lips break apart. You gasp, trying to breathe again, as he fucks your exposed collarbones with kisses. Your brain comes back to you as he leaves a hickey on your neck. He bites you, making you moan so needily that a wave of shame washes over you with his tongue, soothing the bite. You push him away from you and place your hand on your chest, trying to regain control over yourself.

"See? We belong together. There is no other way, Y/N. We are all we need."

"Bullshit." you gasp, trying to ignore the possessive, smug feeling blooming in your chest when you see his messy hair and your lipstick smeared on his lips. "Since you are that good in losing your memory, then forget about me too."

"I can't. I just can't. You think I haven't tried? That you don't haunt me every damn step I take? Everything I have and everything I know is saturated with you. With the memory of both of us. I forgot about what I had with that songbird and my friendship with Sejanus, but I simply CAN'T forget about you. I haven't spent a single damn day without thinking about you. NOT EVEN ONE. And I know you felt the same way. Do you know why I didn't kill that stupid boy who was clinging to you? Because I knew it would make you hate me even more. I was alone without you at 12, and you know how it ended. You are my conscience. Without you... there's nothing holding me back. Without you, there is nothing to distinguish me from the Hunger Games tributes. I have no borders, mercy, compassion, or anything that makes people human beings. And Gaul knows it. That's why she told you all of my crimes; that's why you're paranoid now that I'm someone completely different. But it's still me. I. Am. Still. Your. Coryo." he says it firmly, taking a step closer to you with each word.

"Don't turn me into a fucking cricket for your Pinocchio. I am not, and I do not want to be your conscience. I will not take part in your lies, games, and manipulations." you say as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to concede to the other in any way.

"I will have you. One way or another, but I will. Even if it is the last thing I do, I will have you by my side. Just where you always belonged. I promised you to be my First Lady. And I intend to keep that promise."

"You must become president first. And believe me, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Maybe you can't forget about me. But I can. I do not need you. I never needed you. How ironic to be able to lose the memories of everyone except the girl who will be the end of you, isn't it, CORIOLANUS?" you mock him, a smirk on your lips, making him a promise.

You walk past him, and this time he lets you go, knowing full well that he won't do anything more with you today. At least he got his kiss and a little taste of you, a reminder of the reward that awaits him when everything finally falls into place. When he finally has you in his arms and is at the top of Panem—his rightful place.

"The game has just begun!" he shouts after you, staring at you as you head towards the bathroom to touch up your ruined makeup. It gives you satisfaction to think that this bastard will probably have to clean himself up after your little make-out session, too.

You think that maybe Gaul was right about the Hunger Games being the whole world. But the reality was that there could only be ONE winner.

And among the people of the Capitol, only you and Coriolanus had a real chance of winning. It has always been like that. And even lost memories that do not want to go away so easily are proof of this.

Part 2

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evilminji · 9 months ago

Text

I woke up to this thought? And it made me smile~

Wrong way Au?

It's EASY to fly from point A to point B. Linear. Just on long, no traffic, straight line. And if you get lost? Go higher! There you are! But "normal" reporter families with Totally Human genetics can't exactly DO that.

Plus? It's part of the whole Americana thing!

Childhood.

Gotta do a road trip, see weird road side attractions, camp and hike a bit. Go somewhere other then the farm for once. Soooo~ everyone into the car! Yes, you too, Kon.

And don't look at Lois, kids. She hates this idea as much as you do. But it's for Dad. So we're doing it. Get in the car. Some times loving people means "suuuure, honey! I TOTALLY want to sit in an uncomfortable car for hours for your nostalgic dream trip!", so get comfy.

Problem is? He either can't navigate for SHIT (unlikely) or this patch of nowhere? Possibly haunted? Cursed? Fuckey. Very, very Reality Fuckey. Far more likely, honestly. They THINK that was the a same barn the passed four times now... but it looks... wrong? Off. Worse each time, in ways that are hard to place.

Where the FUCK are they Clark?

According to the GPS?

Here.

(You are Here. You are Here. You are He-)

Oh, THAT'S not cursed! She fucking KNEW they shouldn't have left the city. FUCK the countryside. She likes ONE(1) small town and it's where her in-laws live, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! If they die, she swear to GOD-!!!

Then Jon points to colorful tents up the road. A mix of the kind you buy at big box stores and Ren fairs. Balloons. What the fuuuuuck? "Fenton Family Reunion"?

Was... was that THERE a second ago?

Clark's very deliberate Not Too Tight Grip Of Panic ™ on the steering wheel? Confirms that No Honey, it was not. Kon points out? That eventually they ARE going to run out of gas. They should stop.

Words can not express how little the Kents want to do that. They have KIDS to protect. This feels "magical fuckery" to them. AKA? One of the few things Kryptonians very much CAN NOT handle.

And luck getting ahold of anybody back there kids? No? Emergency lines too?

Fuck ™.

Okay! Guess we're stopping! Stay behind us.

They park.

There are campers and trucks, modified tanks and trackers. A few horses grazing side by side with an honest to God moose and two mules. A Llama. Someone's anchored a dirigible. A boat with spindly chicken footed legs, like it's the house of baba yaga's sea faring love child. The name Fenton is slapped on everything. Peoples faces.

Grinning.

Everything grinning.

As they get closer, the racket gets louder. Crashes and smashes. Roaring laughter. Explosions. The screech of metal failing and the whine of energy overclocked. Fatty meats cooking. Spices from around the globe. Radios and instruments, at least one of which violently cuts off in a smash.

They pass an almost violently balloon choked arch, into chaos.

Grinning giants, everywhere. Every color, every shade, every race imaginable. The spectrum of humanity laid bare. Made large. Grinning, Grinning, Grinning. Crashing into each other, against, through. Smashing and laughing, as everything breaks around them. Titans.

Darting underfoot, children. Fast with wild eyes. Mad grins and fae laughs. Wives and husband's, partners and friends, dancing in and out of the chaos. Just as destructive. Perhaps MORE so. Grabbing meals from grills, laughing and joking, tossing children into the fray, all as they effortless hold conversations of their own.

Like a Dionysian revelry, all madness and joy.

Then they are noticed.

"Cousin!"

One of them booms. Locking eyes on Clark. He doesn't even have time to move, doesn't realize until too late, in all the chaos, that the man meant HIM. A running start is followed by a brutal, full body, flying tackle. Clark is taken skidding to the ground and into a headlock.

"LETS WRASTLE~!!"

He watches in helpless confusion as, with high-pitched war cries, a pair of twins jump Jon. They are wearing war paint. Krypto already taken out by a glowing green dog, now confused and wrestling off to the side. Lois has whipped out her tazer. Kon between her and who ever comes next.

By the time he wrestle his "cousin" off of him, he's lost sight of them both.

Dives into the fray.

Magic be damned, that's his FAMILY!

It... It's the most fun he's had in years. That any of them have. He finds Lois in a breathless, screaming, debate/fistfight with her new best friend. Samantha "call me Sam Or ELSE" Manson-Fouley-Fenton. Kon is in the mud pit, wrestling other teenagers in some sort of battle Royale. Jon? Has become king of the ferals. The other parents are impressed.

His years of Damian wrangling finally paying dividends, apparently.

By the time Clark FINALLY tracks down Krypto, there is already crowd and it apparently six heel turns deep into the WWE Grand Saga of the Fenton Pet's League. Krypto, what the hell. No. No you may NOT "form one last alliance against my sworn wrestling enemy, to prove the true meaning of Christmas!" It's the middle of SUMMER!

Clark... Clark is so tired.

He's also a Fenton now. Yes, he KNOWS that's not how anything works. YOU try explaining that! He's on the call list and card list. It's like the Addams family out here! They just... just DECIDED him and his family were related! They've apparently DONE THAT BEFORE!

They leave with directions, fudge, more leftovers then anyone could possibly eat, and a massive new extended family. One that honestly? The Justice League SHOULD have known about. The sheer destructive chaos they get up too? EVERYONE should be aware of them. It seems impossible NOT to be! But? According to THEM, it's a "family thing". Reality tries to ignore them for "it's own sanity"? What???

So yeah.... no more road trips.

How was YOUR weekend?

@hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @lolottes @babbling-babull @dcxdpdabbles @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

#minji's writing #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #welcome to the family au #fenton family reunion

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pseudowho · 7 months ago

Text

The Silent Stars Go By

On the night of October 31st, Nanami Kento feels his death approaching. Knowing you are on the battlefield with him, and knowing he cannot die without showing you how he feels, he seeks you out...and subverts destiny.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, "last night on Earth" smut, truly desperate, frantic, semi-public, Shibuya ending rewrite

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Nanami Kento knew he was to die, on October 31st.

He was no arithmancer. A pragmatist at heart with a mathematical streak, he had, however, carried his barely living friend to safety, found the bodies of many others, punched a young man to death, and lived to tell the tale. The numbers divined great danger ahead, and, by the time a pink-feathered songbird had sung the perish song of Satoru Gojo, Kento could not deny the maths.

Kento could suddenly see no distant future for himself, as he once could. And yet between then, and now, there was one stark similarity; what future Nanami Kento did see, contained only you.

Behind his eyes flashed a montage of memory-- of midnight laughter-filled dinners at the Konbi. Of shielding you in battle, and you shielding him in return. Of you sitting on his lap, stitching his wounds with utmost care, before your reverse-cursed technique had fully developed. Of falling in love with you, and denying himself joy for believing he may give you none.

Being around you was agony. Being away from you was worse.

"I'll be heading underground," he had intoned to Nitta and Nobara, taking in their girlish features for the last time with a stab through his belly, "after I catch up with someone. Stay safe. Don't sacrifice yourself."

He was a hypocrite. He knew this. He would walk to the gallows, proud, if only he could take you in his arms and cry his love for you, first.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Looking out over the city, having heard Yuuji's cries for 'Nanamin' only a few minutes earlier, you did not know you were being desperately searched for by Kento. You had determined yourself to find and follow Yuuji, the boy without protection.

The night breeze whipped at you, unhindered by walls and trees, on the roof of one of Shibuya's tallest buildings. Turning to leave, you felt a familiar warmth approaching. The man you loved opened the stairwell door, squeaking on its pivot.

Missing his suit jacket and tie, with his sleeves rolled up, he thrummed with raw, uncontained power. Something feverish stormed within his eyes as he looked to you. His steps were slow, and considered. The quiet calm of his voice was deliberate, soft.

"Kento, what...what are you doing here? Is that blood? Oh god, you're bleeding-- let me heal you--"

"Stop. It isn't mine. Just listen for a moment."

"Isn't yours? Then one of the others? We should get them to Shoko--"

"--I need you to listen, now--"

"--we haven't got any time--"

"I love you." The air fell still; a puff of blossom in suspended animation. You had not realised you were holding your breath until Kento's steps caught up to you, and his hands grasped yours. A melancholic certainty rolled off him. Flicks of blond fell over his forehead, that fervour still gripping him; gripping you.

"I love you. You are the purest truth I know. The warmest light. Anything I am, and anything I could have been, is at your mercy, and always has been."

The gut-churning adrenaline you had felt for the fever-pitch of battle was suppressible, before Kento's impassioned promise. That dam broke inside you, and the terror and adoration and injustice heaved out of you in one great sob. You needed his body flush to yours. Public decency took a back seat. So many years of restraint and doubt slid away.

You looped your arms around Kento's neck, one hand grasping his shoulders, and the other sinking into the back of his hair. Kento almost broke, himself, but couldn't; not yet. He had to show you. Needed to show you.

You felt him pull your head away from his shoulder, and you resisted, until his fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head. You were nose to nose. You could feel his heart booming in his chest, fresh from a fight you had not witnessed.

"If this is my last chance," Kento whispered, his nose stroking yours, "will you let me take it?"

"...what...what do you know...that I don't? Kento--"

"Please." Kento growled, his teeth gritted. You felt the twitching contractions of his belly, his hardening cock pressing against you. You couldn't resist his need to control this, and take what he needed, even if you wanted to. Your breaths ached in your chest. Silent, glossy-eyed, you nodded.

Kento broke, possessing your lips in one shuddering kiss. His hands and body squeezed at your softly yielding hips, all-consuming, trying to overfill himself with any scrap of you he could take. He dominated the kiss completely, selflessly, as thoughtlessly altruistic as he had always been. He groaned, panting through the taste of you, his tongue sliding against yours. His cock wept inside his boxers-- it was all too much too much but not enough--

You mewled, little hands gripping onto his collar, sending thunder to Kento's core. Kento pulled away, cursing, feeling the need to know the scars that pleasure etched upon your skin. You were scorched by his touch, too pliable now to do anything but bend to his insistence.

In blood and brutality you sought each other, beacons in the night with stars as your witness. They looked on, disinterested, as if fate held any regard for the lives of mortals, over gods.

With time as his final remaining enemy, Kento pulled you to his lap, sitting with his back against the low wall overlooking the city. He knew for whom the bell tolled. He would see his duty done before the final chime, and he stared into you in your entirety. Though neither a painting nor an ivory box, he handled you with kid gloves.

You straddled his lap, unbuttoning his shirt, and he whispered, groaning and bucking up against your clothed sex as he watched your nimble fingers press his opened shirt apart. Running your hands in reverence down his bared chest and belly, he could not have loved you more than when he saw his own desperation reflected back at him.

In another life-- in any other world-- I--

He lifted you, enough for you to kick your jeans and underwear off, his teeth bared to feel your core press against his aching cock. He spoke through your kisses, a fractured sentence punctuated by his apologies.

"I didn't-- didn't prepare-- no protection-- I can't-- can't stop-- please don't make me stop." He begged, reaching down to hook his cock out. You silenced him with one hand wrapped around his rigid length, and Kento stilled with a hiss.

--take you to dinner first, I'd show you the world-- fill you with its beauty before I fill you with mine--

"Don't care--" You insisted against his neck, "--don't care...need to feel you." Kento almost sobbed with relief to feel you hold him, stroking the head of his cock between your glistening folds. You let his cockhead and slit catch over your clit, shivering, intoxicated by the way he watched you with one hand splayed across your belly, the other on your hip, and blown pupils. He bucked his hips, needy, full of baleful possession.

--and we'd have a Victorian glasshouse with a garden you'd love-- and you'd plant wildflowers while I do the laundry--

Grasping your hips with a snarl as you stroked his cockhead down, Kento impaled you downwards onto him, the moment his cock notched at your entrance. You squeaked, pussy clenching with the sudden blissful invasion, your squirming making you sink lower. Kento felt a telltale throb of impending orgasm in his belly, and he was certain if you clenched one more time--

Your pussy full to the brim, you instinctively bucked downwards. Feeling Kento belly-deep, his trembling fingers dropped to your clit, and you felt Kento's abs twitching beneath your splayed hands. Feeling two clever fingers bracketing your clit and rolling from side to side, you squeezed him, milking his cock and locking him inside you.

--all the late nights and early mornings and train rides and arguments in sickness and health for richer for poorer--

"--love you-- I love you too." You sobbed into his chest, loose and warm against him. Kento saw stars, coming with a shout, thick ropes of cum spurting into you. Looking up at the euphoric agony on his face, and his fingertips bruising your ass as they pinned you down around him, satisfied you spiritually, in a way so alien to you.

You rolled your hips, drinking down every part of him. The long, powerful contractions of his cock inside you, his stilted low moans, his gasps of pleasure as your tight gloved heat continued to stroke him. Starved for him, desperate for more, you rode Kento to frantic overstimulation.

--so unfair this is so unfair, die for you like you'd die for me like I'd die for you like you'd die for me--

You realised with a happy squirm that he hadn't yet removed his glasses or harness. With his shirt trapped against his shoulders, and his lens steamed, fucking upwards and thrashing his head from side to side beneath you, you couldn't stop yourself. You felt the fullness of his creamy load still plugged deeply inside you, and pushed hard against him. Kento cursed, paralyzing you with a hushed roar of agony, and a hand grasping your throat.

"--asked you to make love to me-- not kill me-- but shit, if this is how we go, just take me with you-- take me with you--"

His fingers had never left your clit, now rolling it insistently, until you were the one wriggling and desperate. Still being stuffed with his cock and cum made your pleasure three-dimensional, and Kento's half-hard length began to stir to life again, still high off the adrenaline of punching a man to death. He growled at you with gritted teeth.

"--beautiful...good girl...not done with you yet...shit, keep it in, keep it all in...take me with you...please--"

With half lidded eyes, you grasped Kento's forearm. His hand still braced you with exquisite tenderness around the throat, a necklace instead of a noose. His second hand worked frantically against your clit while you moaned and begged above him, still speared on his cock, feeling him lengthen and thicken again inside you. You whimpered and keened, and Kento committed you to memory, just like this. He would close his eyes in his final moment, and see you, breaking like spun sugar above him, no sweeter sound than his name on your lips.

--bake for you on Sundays, and the bread would always burn, because we'll be too busy--

Kento continued stroking you, pressing kisses onto your forehead as he guided you down from your high. Cautiously starting to roll his hips up again, he moaned at the slick sucks of his cock sliding through his cum and yours. Unthreading his shirt through his harness, Kento threw it to the ground, before lying you down on top of it.

Otherwise fully dressed, with dried stains of blood rusted over his chest and back, Kento bore over you like a vengeful god. Here to take his spoils, he still handled you like glass, resting your head on one of his planted forearms, with a hand under the small of your back to protect you from the floor.

"...I've wanted you for so long-- you don't even know--"

"I knew." Kento faltered. His anguish at leaving you for certain death sharpened, with the sudden knowledge of past chances untaken. His heart clenched, aching down his arms, steeling himself. He couldn't help but lean into your hand, cupping his jaw.

Nuzzling his nose to yours, Kento melted at your smile twinkling up at him. He smiled back, suddenly bashful, lopsided with crinkling eyes, before biting down on one lip and slamming his cock down into you. Your gasp shook through you, clawing into the harness across his chest and shoulders, hearing Kento swear with pleasure at the intensity of a second round.

Kento barely pulled out, wrapped in your arms and tight cunt. He almost spat with anger at the simultaneous need to savour you, and the need to leave, knowing he could not have both. Duty to you held the greater weight and, feeling another orgasm creep through his back and balls far too quickly, he slowed.

Completely engulfed by the enormity of him, you stared up at Kento, made submissive under his emotional insistence, the thick aching stretch of him sheathed inside you. Your back arched off the ground with a guttural moan when Kento slowed, dragging himself through your core from ball to tip in long, languid thrusts, the whole length of his cock glistening with gluey white seed.

He swore he could feel every ridge of you, the mind-altering bend of his cock as it moulded to the curve inside you. He needed you to carry the shape of him forever, an unremovable flesh-memory. Something had changed in him as you carded your fingers through his hair, whispering praises to him, to try to hold him together.

Kento looked drunk. His eyes were distant and hyperfocused all at once, his breaths and groans gruff, his voice gravelly with emotion as his mouth muffled against your shirt.

"--sorry, I...can't move my hands...hurt you, I--" Kento grasped your shirt between his teeth, ragging his head from side to side with a growl to lift it up over your breasts. He did the same to your bra, gripping the cups to yank your breasts free. They bounced out, full and peaked under his hot, frantic breaths.

Kento nosed at them, pulling his cock from you slowly, only to slam back into you with enough force to leave you writhing and whimpering. His mouth and nose played with your breasts, nudging, sucking and biting, hungry and obsessive. Something primal glimmered in his green glass-concealed eyes, as your mounds jiggled every time he fucked into you. The visual stimulus of you spread beneath him, your tight pussy slick with his cum, doe-eyed and completely willing, sent him spiralling towards his high.

"God I wish I--wish I could stay-- more than anything...cum with me, please please please--"

His thrusts became frantic, rough and sloppy with no warning. Kento's eyes darted from your face, to your breasts and pussy, and back again, drinking in the shock and ecstasy plastered over your face. You were trapped within the humid embrace of him, erotically overstimulated by his smell, his desperation, the constant stroke of his weeping cockhead against your spongy soft spot.

You didn't realise how close you were to orgasm until his position shifted, his trimmed honey-gold trail now rubbing against your clit. Clinging onto him, and rubbing upwards to meet his thrusts, you begged for Kento to help you. Your begging was Kento's last straw, and he gasped, his seed slugging out in lazy, creamy trickles against your overstuffed cervix and pussy.

Barely able to see straight, Kento kept rubbing his rigid pelvis against you, gruff and messy while you felt the drag of pleasure through you, softer than bare feet through hot sand. Kento whispered to you, sweat mingling on your foreheads pressed together; "...don't regret a thing...won't regret a minute-- wish this was different...deserve more..."

Panting in each others embrace, the dreadful horror of reality seeped back into you both. You could hear cries in the distance, the rumble of battles. You fought an unwinnable fight. Silent, and pensive, you jolted out of your reverie to hear Kento groan above you, reluctantly pulling his softening cock free. He knelt, dewy-eyed, watching the gluey drip of his cum from you, moaning and shivering as he held his half-hard cock, nudging the cum back inside with his tip.

The sudden emptiness almost made you weep. You felt the same terrible foreboding emanating from him as you had when he arrived on the rooftop. Kento smiled down at you, heartfelt and reassuring, pressing a folded pocket handkerchief to you before pulling your underwear back on over it. He kissed you delicately, from toe to knee while you giggled, before planting one lazy kiss and nuzzle onto your belly. You grasped his head there, scratching gently at his scalp with your fingernails.

"Stay with me, Kento. Just stay." You pressed, knowing in your gut that his decision was already made. His sigh creaked the leather of his harness with broad, corded tugs of his shoulders.

"They need help, underground. I'm one of the few First Grades available. It's only right that I go down there."

Kento's words, as always, rang with decisive finality. Before you could begin to talk again, he interrupted you smoothly.

"You will not come with me."

"You can't stop me."

"Shoko needs you. Your reverse cursed technique is second only to hers, and she's in need of support. It's the proper thing to do."

You squirmed with guilt, knowing you would choose to let Shoko suffer over Kento. Kento glowered down at you, stern, as if he hadn't just fallen apart inside you. You swallowed, a coil of doubt inside your belly.

"...don't be a hero, Kento." Kento frowned as if he didn't understand, and you insisted. "Don't be a hero. Get yourself out first. I mean it." Kento hesitated, looking out over the city lights, the breeze ruffling his mussed hair. He pulled his shirt back on, threading it under his harness.

"...alright." He lied. He paused. You both stood, sticky with each others' cum cooling between your legs. Nuzzling nose to nose, it felt so surreal to have to toss aside post-coital softness, in exchange for the cold embrace of battle.

"Go to Shoko," Kento whispered against your lips, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "and help her. Please. Do as I say."

"Promise you'll come back to me." You hushed into his kiss, beseeching him. He softened, deceptively reassuring, while hearing his clocktower chime.

"Always. I'm all yours. Always." Planting one lingering kiss to your forehead, you watched Kento's retreating back, his figure disappearing down the stairwell.

You wondered if you'd ever trust anyone other than Kento, over your own instincts.

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Shoko was surprised to see you, her cigarette drooping as she raised her thick, dark eyebrows.

"Kento told me you wanted me." You insisted. Shoko shot Yaga one questioning look. Yaga shrugged, arms folded.

"We haven't spoken to Kento all evening." Shoko assured. You felt a flash of panicked rage in your gut, knowing he'd lied to you. Knowing he was taking himself to an unwinnable battle. You grabbed Shoko by the arm.

"Where are they? His team? Where is he?"

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Kento was bloodied, missing an arm of his shirt, his vision obscured by the incessant bleed of a head wound. Pushing out of Dagon's domain, he knew he was exhausted, already skirting his limit. He felt a monstrous wave of Cursed energy, so much deadlier than his own.

A volcano-headed Curse approached him, its hand outstretched and hovering over Kento's abdomen. Naobito and Maki already smouldered in agony, and Kento felt the sickening weight of failure in his chest He had only a moment to protect himself, and he may have coated his body in Cursed-energy in its entirety, had he not filled his death-sentenced mind with thoughts of you.

He expected fire and flames...and felt you. When he protected his right half, you had arrived at the edge of a knife blade, and protected his left. The volcano-headed Curse faltered, stepping back with a scowl.

Kento looked down at you, knelt at his side in a braced position. His clock stopped chiming, in a moment of twisted fates reserved previously for the gods alone. He considered that you were, perhaps, a goddess, and he may be your vassal. You looked up at him, bristling with rage, and Kento's heart swelled.

"I'll tell you off later. For now...we have a fight to finish."

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By the end of the night, Itadori Yuuji had gained a brother and retained a beloved father figure. Nanami Kento cast his eyes over Choso with a hum of resignation, considering he may have another boy to look after, too. The patch-faced curse who may have been his executioner in another life, met its end. He witnessed an old friend who was not an old friend, cast a battle royale over the length of Japan.

Gazing in mute horror over the devastation left behind, Kento felt a hand slip into his own. His ears flushed red. He cleared his throat.

"I'm-- I'm so sorry--"

You laughed, your hands over your face. Kento's eyes glimmered with mirth. He plaited his fingers in yours, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, mumbling against them.

"My hero."

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abbysbug · 5 months ago

Text

nightly meetings

pairing: demon!ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: you don't know her name or what she even is, but you do know that when she visits you, she will have her way with your body.

content: top!ellie, bottom!reader, monster fucking, fingering (r receiving), cunnilingus (r receiving), somnophilia, a demon fucking reader.

masterlist | about me | discord

You woke with a startle. She was there; you could feel her presence. Your bleary eyes searched for her in your dark bedroom and once you found her, your heart dropped a little.

She was the devil. At least, that's what you thought she was.

She didn't visit you often, perhaps once a month, but each time she did, you know what she wanted.

"Did you miss me?" Her voice sounded like a sin. It was seductive and made your thighs subconsciously clench together, but it also made you feel fear.

"I wouldn't say I miss waking up at-" You glanced at the glowing numbers on your clock, "3:02AM in the morning."

She smiled or attempted for a smile. It looked unnatural on her. Almost like she wasn't made to feel joy.

She appeared at your bed, making you jump. You forget that her movement is different from that of a human.

Her cold finger hooked around your chin, pulling your face to meet hers. She studied you for a few short seconds before smashing her lips into yours.

The way she kissed you is unexplainable. When her lips are on yours, you feel things that you haven't felt before, and it's fucking incredible.

"Please."

You didn’t know what you're begging for, but she understood.

You were stripped from your clothes and pushed onto your back. Her lips didn’t leave your body as she made her way downwards. You spread your thighs, inviting her.

She settled between your thighs, wrapping her arms around them to keep you from closing them. Her strength is like no other, even if you desperately wanted to close your thighs, you wouldn't be able to without her letting you.

You stifled a moan when her lips wrap around your clit, flicking and sucking lightly. She normally takes her time with you, but this time she didn’t.

She collected your slick on three of her fingers before pushing them into you. Your back arched and you whimper at the unfamiliar intrusion.

Her spare hand rubbed at your hips in a comforting way. Non-verbally telling you that you're doing good for her.

"It hurts." You cried, "Slower, please."

Your pleas went ignored. They always do.

Her fingers curled perfectly, reaching the pleasurable spot others had always failed to reach. Her tongue continued to harshly flick over your clit.

A guttered moan escaped your lips. The way she navigated your body was heaven. She knew how to get you to the brink of an orgasm in a few pathetic minutes.

"God, I'm so close."

You squealed when she slapped your hip, a frown settling over her face. You forget she doesn't like when you use that word.

Her eyes were trained on yours. You normally hated making eye contact, but with her, you couldn't will yourself to look away. She was mesmerising.

With one more flick of her tongue, you were gushing over her fingers. You grasped onto the bedsheets and your toes curled as your orgasm washed over you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to come down from your high.

You knew once you opened your eyes that she would be gone, but that's okay, she would come back in a month, she always does.

•

@mystellenia

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie smut #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x fem reader #melposts

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axelsagewrites · 3 months ago

Note

Hey can I request a Aegon x Hightower!aunt reader?

where she's got this holier-than-thou attitude but secretly enjoys seeing Aegon lusts over her (even doing stuff on purpose to fuel his desire). And ultimately she humiliates him in some pleasurable way.

Aegon Targaryen*Pray For Me

Pairing: sub!aegon x f!reader

Word count: 1694

Warnings: a lot of blasphemy, religion, face riding, p in v sex, teasing, m!recieving oral, f!recieving oral, orgasm denial (male), sub aegon, dom reader, good boy, smut 18+

Masterlist here

Your sister was at her wits end, and you couldn’t blame her when you visited court for the first time. Your father was very determined to keep his youngest daughter away from the antics of court but when Alicent requested your presence as the Queen, he decided it was best not to argue.

“Impropriety is a sin, you know,” your voice was quiet, but it shut the whole table up when you spoke.

It was your first family dinner with the queen and her children. Aegon had arrived already tipsy and was being exceptionally loud. “You think me immoral? For having some fun?” he asked, drunkenly smiling as he leant forward.

Alicent let out a sigh and opened her mouth to speak but you spoke before she could, “I think punishment will find those who deserve it,”

“Whatcha gonna do?” he slurred, putting his elbows on the table which you glared at, “Spank me?” he teased.

You smiled sweetly at him and just as he went to sit back in you gave the table a quick jerk causing the wine, he reached for to spill across the table. The red liquid instantly covered his frame, “You bitch!” he jumped up as he tried to shake the wine of his tunic, “This is new!” his whines were almost drowned out by Heleana’s giggles and Alicent’s attempt to hide her laugh.

“If you squandered your money less this wouldn’t be a problem,” you said but it fell on deaf ears as he went to storm out the room.

You weren’t shocked when the guards informed your sister Aegon had taken to the silk streets after dinner. He was shocked to find you leaving his room as he got back, “You’re waiting for me?” he smirked when he saw you, “Need me that badly?”

“You’re driving your mother mad,” you sighed, crossing your arms.

Aegon ignored you, his gaze instead lower to how your breasts threatened to spill from your dress, only exaggerated by your crossed arms. You glowered at him as you lowered them, “If you’re worried, pray for me,” he said as he stumbled to his chamber door.

You rolled your eyes as you walked away. However, you still vaguely heard his cries of ‘what the fuck’ when he discovered you’d taken all the wine from his chambers.

Each day went the same. Aegon did something that would make a septa blush, you reprimanded him, he hit on you, you made him regret it. “As if you’re perfect,” he’d scoff at you when no one else could hear, “Bet you’re up to all sorts when no one’s looking,” You internally smirked but would just remind him of the sins of the flesh eating away at his soul. He didn’t need to know the truth. Not yet.

Slowly he was beginning to learn, beginning to behave better, but no amount of your scolds would stop his eyes from wandering your frame. Hell, the one time he came to the sept Alicent nearly leapt for joy. You didn’t want to break it to her he’d knelt beside you and kept looking down your dress when he thought you couldn’t see.

You also weren’t willing to admit you’d enjoyed it.

One-night Aegon came to your chambers. He was drunk and begging for your touch, so you sent him away. Your blood went Firey hot however when Aemond later confessed to seeing Aegon in a brothel with a woman who may as well be your twin.

Maybe it was time to punish him on his level.

You wanted him to be sober for this. You wanted him to remember his mistakes. So, you waited in his chambers while he was out to morning sword practise. He opened the door with a heavy sigh and let out an even heavier. “What did I do now?” he groaned as he made his way to his wine.

“Leave it,” you said, your voice calm, “And sit down,”

“I’m really not in the mood for a lecture,” he huffed as he grabbed a chalice.

You tutted as you crossed the room, grabbing his wrist gently. Aegon span around, ready to argue, but you stepped forward. Your lips ghosted over his and his breath got stuck in his throat, “Don’t make me ask again,” you said slowly before sleeping back, pointing at the bed.

He nodded softly before slowly making his way to sit on the edge of his bed. His eyes stayed glued to you as he took his place. You followed him slowly, standing between his legs as he gazed up at you, “Better. It’s good when you listen,”

“What are you gonna do?” he mumbled as his hands went to reach for your hips.

You grabbed his wrists softly before he could, “I’m going to give you what you deserve,” you smiled, pushing his hands back to step away.

Before Aegon could protest your hands found the ties of your dress. He swallowed thickly as you unlaced them, allowing the heavy fabric to pool to the floor. Left standing in your thin shift you felt a rush of energy go through you as his eyes drank you in.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he mumbled.

“Blasphemous,”

“I don’t care,” he was too distracted by your figure to notice your smirk.

You stepped closer, lifting his chin with your finger. You smirked as his cheeks tinged pink. Your hand stroked gently over his cheek. A quick glance down and you could see he was ready. “Get rid of those,” you instructed and instantly he obeyed, “And lay down,”

Without moments Aegon was laying naked, on his bed, an excited look on his face. You moved to straddle his lap, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. He tried to follow them when you pulled away, but you kept a hand on his chest.

“Patience,” you chastised, “Good things come to those who wait,”

“I don’t think I can wait,” he mumbled.

You ignored him as you leaned down to kiss his cheek, then along his jaw. Just as you began to kiss his neck you lowered your hips, pressing your clothed core against him. He moaned softly as you began to grind against him.

You felt his hands on your hips and pushed them away, “Not yet,” you said, pinning them softly down onto the bed.

“Sorry,” he moaned, gasping when you pressed harder.

After all good behaviour got rewarded. You released one wrist, taking him into your hand. He moaned softly; eyes fluttery shut as you worked your magic. You enjoyed the little sounds he’d make as your kisses moved lower.

Eventually you released your grip on his other wrist as you kissed softly down his chest. However, when you felt his hand move to your hair, you let him go. “What?” he whined as you moved back up his frame.

“You haven’t earned it yet,” you smiled softly, running a hand over his soft locks.

“What do you want?” he asked, his eyes desperately searching yours as his body craved release.

You let your fingers trail down his face till they graced his lips, “I think you know,” you said, and his eyes turned hungry.

Slowly you moved further up till you hovered over his face, “Can I touch you?” he asked, his cool breath fanning over you making chills run down your spine.

“Yes,” you said as you gently lowered yourself down. You couldn’t help but gasp when his tongue began rubbing over your clit. His hands found your thighs, pulling you further down as you grabbed onto his headboard.

Curses fell from your lips as his tongue worked wonders on your bundle of nerves. He moved his head, his tongue now curling inside you as his nose nuzzled your clit. Your hips began to buck, grinding against his face. He let out a low groan, vibrations shooting up your spine.

“Good boy,” the small whisper seemed to egg him on as his movements grew faster. His moans grew louder. It was becoming impossible to hold on as a knot tightened in your belly.

your nails dug into the wood of the headboard as you let out a loud gasp when your peak crashed over you. You kept riding his face till you milked every drop of the pleasure.

Slowly, once you could move your legs again, you moved down his frame again. “You’re amazing,” he said, face wet as his eyes gazed at you with stary like wonder.

“I think you’ve earned a reward,”

Fire sparked in his eyes. He watched with bated breath as you positioned yourself over him. You lined him up, rubbing him against your slit and watching his eyes flutter shut. “Fuck,” he groaned as you slowly sank down.

Your hips moved slow at first, riding him at a tortuous pace. He went to grab your hips but stopped himself. He looked up at you, silently asking permission. You gave a curt nod, a simple smile, and suddenly his fingers dug deep into your hips. “you feel so good,” he mumbled in bliss.

You felt him start to twitch and just as quickly as you brought him to the brink, you pulled away. “What-?” his eyes shot open, searching the room as if someone had caught you, only to discover you’d stopped for seemingly no reason, “Why-?”

“Do you really think you’ve earned that yet?” you chastised, “After all your stunts?” your hand brushed against his cheek as his eyes went wide. You smirked gently, “Oh sweet one, I want to enjoy this,”

You moved down his body till you were between his legs. Your hands reached for the edge of your shift and Aegon watched with bated breath as you pulled it off. “You better not forget what happens to boys who don’t behave,”

You took him in your hand again, leaning down to place a soft kiss to his tip. Aegon hissed at the feeling. He groaned loudly as you began to kiss down the shaft, “Don’t worry,” you told him, “I’ll let you finish,” you licked up the side making him moan, his eyes shutting involuntarily, “eventually,”

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#aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen smut #aegon ii smut #hotd #hotd smut #hotd x reader #aegon targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon smut #hotd imagine

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mapiforpresident · 28 days ago

Note

"You really have three babies growing in there, I need to start making more money" alessia Russo

Babies

alessia x reader

~~~

It had been a long journey. A journey full of anticipation, hope, and a lot of patience. The kind of patience that only people who’ve been through multiple rounds of IVF truly understand. You and Alessia had been together since your college days at UNC, where you met during your first practice. Fast-forward to now, you were married, both playing for Arsenal, and building a life together.

The news of your pregnancy had come a couple weeks ago, and it was almost surreal. The weeks of waiting for results, the endless uncertainty, the longing for something more, and then, finally, that beautiful moment when you saw the two pink lines on the test. You’d both cried—tears of joy, relief, and even disbelief. The doctor’s office had felt like a whole new world when you heard those words: “You’re pregnant.” You both had been holding your breath, praying for this moment.

But today was something even more monumental. Today was the first scan. You’d been counting down the days, feeling a blend of excitement and nervousness building up inside you.

You and Alessia had been in and out of doctors' offices together, and though she had always been supportive and excited for you both, you could sense the difference today. She was pacing back and forth in the waiting room, her hands running through her hair, trying to calm her nerves. She couldn’t stop glancing at her watch as though time would speed up if she willed it enough.

"Less, you’re going to wear a hole in that floor if you keep pacing like that,” you teased with a smile, nudging her shoulder as you sat down on one of the chairs, trying to settle your own anxious thoughts.

She let out a small laugh but still couldn’t help herself. “I’m just… nervous, you know? It’s our first scan, babe. What if there’s something wrong?”

You reached out and took her hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly. “Everything’s going to be fine. You know how much I’ve wanted this, how much we’ve wanted this. We’re in good hands.”

Alessia paused for a moment, her eyes softening as she looked at you. “I know. I just… I want this to be everything we dreamed of, you know?”

You smiled, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from her face. “We’ve got this, Less. All of it.”

As soon as the nurse called your name, you stood up, your hand still tightly clutching hers. The scan room was calm and sterile, with the soft hum of machines in the background. Alessia moved close to you, not letting go of your hand for a second.

“Okay, let’s take a look,” the sonographer said as she began applying the gel on your belly. “This will be a little cold, but it won’t take long.”

You flinched at the cold gel, but Alessia’s hand on yours steadied you, and you leaned back against the bed, your eyes locked with hers. She was staring at you, her expression a mix of awe and anxiety, and you could tell she was trying to hold it together.

"Ready?" the sonographer asked with a smile, looking up from the screen.

You nodded, your heart racing as you waited for the image to appear.

The room was silent for a moment as the screen came to life, and then the sonographer's voice broke through the quiet.

“Well, it looks like we have three little ones in there,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “You’re having triplets.”

Alessia froze, her eyes widening, and you could feel your breath catch in your throat. Triplets?

“Wait… three?” you managed to choke out, glancing at the screen where three tiny dots were visible, all of them moving, all of them so incredibly small. You looked up at Alessia, who was still staring at the screen, her jaw dropped.

"Three..." Alessia repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

The sonographer nodded with a smile. “You really have three babies growing in there. Congratulations.” She decided to give the two of you a couple minutes alone to process the information an stepped out of the room.

The words hung in the air, and for a second, neither of you said anything. Three babies. It was everything you had ever wanted, and more. Your head was spinning. You could see Alessia’s expression shifting from shock to sheer joy, her eyes tearing up as she reached over to squeeze your hand tighter.

“This is… this is unreal,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “We’re going to need a bigger house.”

You smiled through the daze, your heart fluttering. “Yeah, and maybe a bigger car too,” you joked, trying to lighten the overwhelming wave of emotions crashing over both of you.

Alessia turned to you with wide eyes, her lips curling into a grin that reached all the way to her eyes. “Oh my god, we have three babies, babe.” She laughed lightly, almost nervously, but it was clear she was trying to wrap her mind around it, just as you were.

You laughed too, your hand still on your stomach, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in. “I really need to start making more money,” you said, the words escaping before you could think about it. “Maybe I should work on my endorsement deals or get another sponsorship.”

Alessia raised an eyebrow, slowly starting to break through her shock. “Three babies, huh? Well, I guess I’d better stop spending all my money on shoes, then.”

“You’re not allowed to spend a penny until we figure out how to pay for all this,” you teased back, and she threw you a mock glare.

“What are we going to do with all these babies?” she asked, laughing softly.

You chuckled, both of you caught in the absurdity of the situation, “I guess we’ll just take it one day at a time,” you said, squeezing her hand tighter. “We’ve been through everything together—college, football, marriage. And now… we get to be parents. Together.”

Alessia nodded, her eyes brimming with tears now, but her smile never faltering. “Together,” she echoed softly, looking at the image of your babies she now held in her hands.

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #arsenal women #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #arsenal x reader #woso imagines #woso fanfics

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hisfavegirl · 19 days ago

Text

The Queen Grief - King Aegon Targaryen x TwinSister!Reader

Summary : After the incident where your son was killed coldly, you were drowned in anger and also hated.

part II.

You were consumed by grief and rage, your heart aching as you watched the servants carefully lift your son’s bloodstained blanket. They were going to burn it, or perhaps throw it away, treating it like nothing more than a piece of cloth stained by death. The thought of it made you tremble with fury.

Your eyes shifted to the bed where your son had once slept, now soaked in blood—his blood. The memory of his innocent face, his little hands grasping the blanket you had carefully knitted for him, made your chest tighten with unbearable pain. You reached for the soft fabric, clutching it tightly to your chest as fresh tears began to fall.

The blanket, once a symbol of warmth and love, now felt like a cruel reminder of what had been stolen from you. You could almost hear his voice again, that soft giggle when you’d first shown him the blanket, the joy in his eyes when he wrapped it around himself, feeling safe in your arms.

“I made this for you, my sweet Jaehaerys,” you whispered through the tears, the words heavy with the weight of loss. “I promised I would protect you, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t protect you from them.”

The memory of his reaction, the bright smile and the way his tiny hands ran over the knitted fabric, was now a bitter and painful reminder of how brief his life had been. You clutched the blanket tighter, your sobs wracking your body, and you felt a deep ache inside you that could never be filled. The warmth of his presence, the sound of his laughter—gone. And in its place, only the cold, lifeless blanket and the bloodstains that would never wash away.

You collapsed onto the floor, your body shaking as you sat amidst the scattered toys that once filled your son’s room with joy. The small wooden blocks, the tiny figurines—each one a reminder of the life he would never get to live, the laughter and innocence that would never be heard again. Your tears flowed freely, and the pain in your chest became unbearable.

The sound of your sobs filled the room, louder and more desperate with each passing moment. Your heart ached for him, for the life stolen from you both. You cried out for the child you would never see again, for the dreams that would never come true. Your breath came in ragged gasps as the grief overwhelmed you.

Suddenly, you felt the warmth of Aegon’s arms around you, pulling you close, and his voice, cracked with emotion, whispered in your ear. “I’m here. I’m with you. I’ll never leave you.” His words were a comfort, but the sorrow in his voice matched your own, his tears mingling with yours.

You leaned into him, trembling with the force of your grief. The two of you clung to each other, crying together, mourning the loss of your son in a silence that spoke of shared pain. Aegon’s embrace, his steady presence, was the only thing grounding you in that moment, but nothing could fill the aching void left in your heart.

And so, you cried. You cried until your tears seemed endless, until the weight of the world felt too much to bear. Aegon cried with you, his own sorrow mixing with yours, and for that moment, it felt as though you were no longer alone in your grief. But the emptiness of loss still lingered, heavy and suffocating, as the two of you wept for the son you had lost.

After a long, silent weeping, Aegon finally made the decision to lift you in his arms. His steps were slow and steady, as though the weight of grief was pulling him down just as much as it had consumed you. Your body felt light in his arms, yet heavy with sorrow. Every step he took was an effort, but he kept going, determined to bring you some measure of comfort.

As he walked through the hallways, trying to escape the suffocating grief, a group of soldiers appeared before him. One of them, looking hesitant yet resolute, stepped forward.

“Your Grace,” the soldier said, his voice respectful but firm, “The Dowager Queen has commanded that the Queen has to meet her at her private solar, as per her instructions.”

Aegon’s jaw tightened. His eyes, filled with the same pain that tore at your heart, locked onto the soldier’s. His voice, cold and unwavering, rang out in the tense silence.

“No,” Aegon replied, his tone low but carrying the weight of his authority. “I will not hand her over. I will take her to our chambers.”

The soldier hesitated, glancing at the others, but none of them moved. They understood the King’s command. Aegon, despite the crown on his head, was not swayed by the demands of his mother, the Queen Dowager. His focus was entirely on you, his queen, his wife, the woman who was grieving the loss of their son.

With no further words, Aegon continued his path toward your room. The soldiers reluctantly stepped aside, not daring to challenge him again. The halls seemed eerily quiet as Aegon carried you with care, every step bringing him closer to a place where, for just a moment, there would be no responsibilities, no demands—only the quiet solace of being together.

When the door to your chamber finally closed behind him, Aegon gently laid you on the bed, his heart heavy but steadfast. He sat beside you, taking your hand in his, and in the quiet stillness of the room, he whispered, “I’m here. I will never leave you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You clung to Aegon’s body, wrapping your arms tightly around him as if you could draw strength from his presence. The storm of emotion inside you seemed endless, the grief so deep you couldn’t see past it. His warmth was the only comfort in that moment, and you buried your face against his chest, closing your eyes, trying to escape the overwhelming pain.

Aegon held you close, his breath steady against your hair, his arms strong around you. After a long pause, he slowly closed his eyes, allowing the quiet of the room to wash over both of you. Then, with a soft and gentle touch, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment as if trying to convey all the love and sorrow he felt without words.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing, “I’m here, and I won’t leave you.”

Then, to calm you, Aegon began to hum softly, the familiar melody of a song you loved, one that had always brought you peace in moments of chaos. His voice was hushed, carrying the melody gently as he softly rocked you in his arms.

The tune, a song you’d always cherished, seemed to weave its way through the tension and heartache, slowly, gently pulling you back from the edge of your grief. His voice, full of love and concern, was the only thing you could focus on, and with each note, you felt a small measure of calm washing over you.

His arms around you were strong, a shield against the world outside, and in that moment, with his voice humming that familiar, soothing tune, you finally allowed yourself to rest, to close your eyes and let the pain ease—if only for a brief moment.

As the soft hum of Aegon’s voice began to soothe you, a sound from the doorway broke through the fragile peace. You opened your eyes, turning your head, and there she was—your mother, Alicent, standing with an air of composed determination. Her gaze swept over the room, lingering on the sight of you in Aegon’s arms, clutching the blanket that had once been your son’s.

Tears threatened to rise again as you held the bloodstained fabric closer, pressing it against your face, the faintest hint of your son’s scent still clinging to it. The weight of Alicent’s presence, however, was impossible to ignore.

Her voice was calm but firm, her tone leaving no room for argument. “His body will be taken through the kingdom,” she said. “The people must see the tragedy, must know who is responsible for the death of their prince. You- we will ride in the carriage directly behind him.”

Her words struck like a blade. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, the grief and fury warring within you. Slowly, you shook your head, lowering the blanket from your face. “No,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “I won’t do it.”

Alicent’s expression hardened, but there was something else there too—perhaps a flicker of understanding or even pity. “This is for the realm,” she pressed. “For your son’s justice.”

You sat up, Aegon’s hand resting protectively on your back as you faced her. “Justice?” you repeated bitterly, your voice rising. “Parading his body like a spectacle is not justice—it’s cruelty. It’s not for him, it’s for your politics.”

Alicent’s lips tightened into a thin line. She took a step forward, her gaze sharp but laced with concern. “It’s what must be done. The people need to see—”

“No!” you interrupted, standing now despite the weakness in your legs. “I won’t let his memory be used this way. I won’t ride behind him as if he’s nothing more than a tool in this war.”

Alicent stared at you, the tension between mother and daughter palpable, the silence heavy. Aegon rose beside you, his arm steadying you as he spoke, his voice low but firm. “She has made her decision,” he said, addressing Alicent directly. “And as her husband—and her king—I stand by it.”

Alicent’s expression faltered for a moment, her mouth opening as if to argue, but she said nothing. With a stiff nod, she turned and left, her footsteps echoing down the hall. You exhaled shakily, leaning into Aegon’s support, your heart still heavy but resolute in your refusal to let your son’s memory be tarnished.

The moment you heard the words—the news that your son’s head had been found and sewn back onto his small, lifeless body—you felt your knees weaken, but the urgency in your heart propelled you forward. You moved with haste, ignoring the calls of servants and guards as you hurried to where they had brought him.

When you entered the dimly lit chamber, your breath caught in your throat. There he was, your sweet boy, lying on a cold stone slab. His tiny body, once so full of life and laughter, now lay stiff and pale. The stitching on his neck was visible, crude and brutal, a reminder of the horror he had endured.

You froze for a moment, your mind unwilling to fully accept the sight before you. But then the wave of grief crashed over you, and you rushed forward, falling to your knees beside him. Trembling, you reached out, your hands brushing against his cold, lifeless skin.

Tears poured down your cheeks as you let out a broken sob. “My sweet boy,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “My Jaehaerys… please, wake up.”

You wrapped your arms around his small, fragile body. His coldness pierced through you, but you didn’t care. “Please,” you begged, your voice breaking. “Please come back to me. Just one more time. Hold me back. Call me ‘Mother’ again.”

Your sobs filled the room as you cradled him, pressing kisses to his forehead, his cheeks, his tiny hands. You clung to him as if your love alone could undo the cruelty of fate. But no matter how tightly you held him, no matter how desperately you cried, his small body remained still and unresponsive.

The world felt cruel and empty as you wept, your tears falling onto his lifeless face. There was nothing left but the unbearable silence and the weight of your sorrow.

Through the haze of your grief, you forced yourself to lift your head. His face was peaceful, but his silence screamed louder than anything. The coldness of his skin cut through your soul like a knife.

You turned to the nearest servant, your voice cracking with desperation. “Bring me his blanket. The one I made for him. Hurry!”

The servant hesitated, unsure of how to act in the face of your anguish, but a sharp glance from you spurred them into action. As they hurried away, you turned back to your son, your tears blurring your vision.

“Jaehaerys,” you whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “You always loved that blanket. Do you remember? You said it made you feel safe. I’ll keep you warm, my love. I promise I’ll keep you warm.

Moments later, the servant returned, carefully holding the soft blanket you had poured hours of love into crafting. You snatched it from their hands, your fingers clutching the fabric as though it held the last pieces of him.

With trembling hands, you draped the blanket over his tiny body, tucking it in as though he were merely asleep. But the lifelessness of his form made your chest tighten further, and the tears came again in an uncontrollable flood.

You collapsed beside him, your hand resting on his covered chest, hoping against hope that you might feel it rise and fall, that somehow this nightmare might end. But there was nothing. No warmth, no breath, no heartbeat.

“I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, your voice breaking as you leaned down to kiss his cold forehead. “I couldn’t protect you. My baby, my sweet boy, I couldn’t save you.”

You stayed there, your body wracked with sobs, as you clung to him. The servants stood back, silent witnesses to a mother’s endless grief, as your cries echoed through the chamber—a lament for a life stolen too soon.

Your trembling hand reached out, brushing against the cold, pale skin of your son’s cheek. His once rosy complexion was now a stark, lifeless white. You traced his delicate features, your fingers lingering on the softness of his face, as though you could imprint the memory of him into your very soul.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, falling onto his still, small body. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of your quiet sobs. Your heart ached with a pain so raw it felt as if it might tear you apart.

But as the weight of your grief pressed down on you, a fire ignited within your chest—a burning rage that pushed through the despair. You clenched your jaw, your hand still resting on his lifeless cheek, and whispered through your tears, “I swear, my son… I swear on your name, on your memory, on my very life—whoever did this to you will pay.”

Your voice grew stronger, more resolute, as if speaking the words aloud gave them power. “I don’t care what it costs me. Whether it’s my blood, my crown, or my life. I will avenge you, Jaehaerys. I promise you, they will suffer as you have suffered.”

The rage coursing through you felt like the only thing keeping you upright. It was no longer just grief—it was a mission, a purpose that would drive you forward no matter the cost.

You leaned down, pressing a trembling kiss to his icy forehead, your tears falling onto his skin. “Rest now, my love,” you whispered. “I will not let this injustice stand. I will make them pay.”

The vow settled into your heart, cold and unshakable, as you stayed beside him, your hand never leaving his face. Though your heart was shattered, your resolve was forged in steel, and nothing—not the gods, not death itself—would stop you from honoring the promise you made to your beloved son.

Your steps echoed through the long corridors as you made your way toward the council chamber. The fire of grief and vengeance burned within you, your mind consumed with thoughts of your son. Every step you took felt heavier, yet you pressed forward, drawn by the voices echoing from the chamber ahead.

As you approached, their words became clear.

“They were vermin, nothing more,” Aemond’s sharp voice declared, calm yet cutting. “The rats in this kingdom must know there is no tolerance for disloyalty or treachery.”

Another voice, one of the council members, spoke hesitantly, “But, the display—hanging them at the gates—some might see it as excessive.”

And then, you heard your husband’s voice, steady and resolute, with a dangerous edge that left no room for argument. “They killed my son,” Aegon said, his tone icy. “Excessive would have been feeding them to the dragons piece by piece. This kingdom will know what happens to those who betray the crown and harm my family.”

The words struck you like a hammer. You froze just outside the door, the image of the gates filled your mind—bodies dangling as a gruesome warning. Aegon had taken his grief and turned it into action, his vengeance swift and unrelenting.

You pushed the doors open without hesitation, stepping into the room. The council members turned to look at you, their expressions ranging from surprise to discomfort. Aemond stood to one side, arms crossed, his eye narrowing as he observed you. At the head of the table, Aegon sat, his face unreadable until he saw you.

You locked eyes with him, the air in the room thick with tension. “Is it true?” you asked, your voice trembling but firm. “Did you hang them at the gates?”

Aegon rose from his chair, his gaze steady as he approached you. “I did,” he replied without hesitation. “They took our son from us. They deserved worse.”

You searched his face, seeing the same pain and anger you carried in your heart. Yet, something about it unsettled you—the coldness, the finality of his actions. “And what justice have you found, Aegon?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Does it bring him back?”

He reached for you, his hand brushing your arm gently. “No,” he admitted, his voice softening. “But it ensures that no one else dares to harm what’s ours.”

You looked down, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. Part of you wanted to rage, to scream at the futility of it all. Yet another part of you—the part consumed by your own need for vengeance—understood him all too well.

As the council chamber settled into a tense silence following Aegon’s admission, a sharp voice cut through the air. Otto Hightower, standing at the far end of the table, slammed his hand against the wood, his face twisted with fury.

“This was reckless, Your Grace!” he bellowed, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “Hanging the rat-catchers at the gates like common criminals? What will the realm think? What will this do to the crown’s dignity? Such actions—”

Aegon spun toward Otto, his eyes blazing with fury. “Dignity?” he snapped, his voice cold and filled with venom. “You think I care about dignity, Otto? They took my son! My son, who was barely old enough to speak his own name!”

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Aegon stepped forward, his voice growing louder, trembling with both rage and pain. “Do you know what dignity means to me now? Nothing! Dignity didn’t save him. Dignity didn’t stop his head from being torn from his body. So don’t you stand there and lecture me about what is too far.”

Otto’s mouth opened as if to respond, but Aegon cut him off, taking another step closer, his presence commanding the room. “I am the king,” he growled. “And as long as I wear this crown, no one—no one—will harm what is mine without paying for it in blood. Do you understand me?”

Alicent, standing near the door, placed a hand over her chest, her expression a mixture of sorrow and alarm. Even Aemond, ever composed, shifted slightly where he stood, his single eye flicking between Otto and Aegon.

“You have lost sight of the bigger picture,” Otto finally said, his voice quieter but no less firm. “Revenge clouds your judgment. This will have consequences.”

Aegon’s expression hardened further, his fists clenching at his sides. “Then let there be consequences,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ll bear them gladly if it means justice for my son.”

You stood there, watching the exchange, torn between the grief that mirrored Aegon’s and the unease Otto’s words stirred in you. In Aegon’s eyes, there was nothing but pain and vengeance, a fire that seemed unstoppable. You reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm, grounding him for just a moment.

“Aegon,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with emotion. “Let’s not lose ourselves completely to this. Not yet.”

He looked at you, his anger dimming slightly as he took in your tear-streaked face. With a deep breath, he turned away from Otto, his grip on control tenuous but holding—for now.

Unable to bear the tension any longer, you turned and left the council chamber, your steps hurried and uneven as the weight of grief pressed down on you. The echoes of raised voices faded behind you, replaced by the quiet hum of the corridors. You wrapped your arms around yourself, as if trying to hold your breaking heart together, and made your way back to your chambers.

When you arrived at your chambers, the sight that greeted you pulled you to a halt. The servants were moving quietly, laying out a gown of rich black and deep green across the bed. Beside it rested a matching hood, its dark fabric shimmering faintly in the candlelight.

These were no ordinary garments—they were the colors of House Hightower, the mourning attire of the queen dowager’s line, meant to signify grief and strength in equal measure. Yet, to you, they only symbolized loss, a cruel reminder of the funeral you would soon endure.

One of the servants noticed your presence and turned, bowing their head respectfully. “Your Grace,” they said softly, their voice carefully measured, “the Queen Dowager requested these be prepared for you. She thought they would honor both your son and your house.”

You took a step closer, your gaze fixed on the heavy fabrics. Your hands trembled as you reached out to touch the gown. The black velvet felt cold beneath your fingers, while the deep green embroidery—a shade you once associated with pride—now seemed hollow, devoid of its former meaning.

The servant continued, their tone apologetic. “The procession will begin shortly. Queen Alicent thought—”

“Enough,” you interrupted, your voice barely above a whisper but heavy with emotion. The servant fell silent, stepping back to give you space.

You picked up the hood, its weight seeming far heavier than its fabric should allow. Holding it close to your chest, you sank onto the edge of the bed, your tears spilling over as you clutched it tightly.

“Green and black,” you murmured, your voice cracking. “For what purpose? To parade my grief for the realm to see? To show the world the price I have paid?”

Your gaze drifted to the gown again, and the pain in your chest swelled, suffocating you. “None of this will bring him back,” you whispered, the words breaking as they left your lips.

You closed your eyes, pressing the hood to your face as tears fell freely. The room seemed to close in around you, heavy with the weight of your loss, as the preparations for the ceremony continued in quiet, dutiful silence.

You sat motionless before the mirror, staring at your own reflection as if it were a stranger staring back at you. The pale, hollow-eyed face that greeted you bore little resemblance to the woman you once were. Your hands rested limply in your lap, surrendering to the servants who worked silently around you.

One was carefully weaving your hair into an intricate braid, while another secured the black hood over your head, its heavy fabric draping over your shoulders. Every movement felt mechanical, detached, as though this wasn’t truly happening to you. You had stopped fighting. You had stopped resisting.

You had surrendered.

The weight of the mourning gown clung to your skin, and the air seemed thick, suffocating in the quiet of the room. The finality of it all settled over you like a shroud, and you sat there, staring, as the servants completed their work.

Then the door opened.

The sound drew your gaze, and your reflection shifted as you turned your head. Standing in the doorway was your mother, Queen Dowager Alicent Hightower, dressed in a dark green gown that matched the depths of her sorrow. Her black hood framed her face, highlighting the familiar resolve in her eyes—a look you had seen countless times.

Her presence filled the room, yet neither of you spoke at first. She took a step inside, her gaze sweeping over you. For a moment, the queen dowager and the grieving mother collided within her, and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You are ready,” she said softly, her voice steady but heavy with emotion.

You didn’t respond, turning your eyes back to the mirror. The servant adjusted the final pin in your hood and stepped back, bowing her head before retreating to the corner.

“I see you’ve decided to join the procession,” Alicent continued, stepping closer to you. Her green gown swayed slightly as she walked, the fabric catching the dim light. “This is as it should be. The realm must see your strength… and your grief.”

At her words, your fists clenched in your lap, but you didn’t turn to face her. Instead, you stared at your reflection, your expression unreadable. “Strength?” you repeated quietly, your voice laced with bitterness. “Is that what this is supposed to be?”

Alicent paused, her hands clasping tightly in front of her. “It is what must be done,” she said firmly, though her voice softened as she added, “for him. For Jaehaerys.”

Her words cut through you like a blade, and you closed your eyes, trying to block out the tears that threatened to fall again. “Do you think he would want this?” you whispered. “For his body to be paraded through the streets while his mother sits silently behind it?”

Alicent sighed, stepping closer until she stood just behind you, her reflection now visible in the mirror alongside your own. “He would want the world to see the price of this treachery,” she said quietly but with conviction. “And so would you, if only your heart were not so broken.”

You turned your gaze away from the mirror, unable to look at her any longer. “My heart is broken, Mother,” you said softly, your voice cracking. “And I wonder if it will ever heal.”

Alicent rested a hand on your shoulder, her grip firm but meant to be comforting. “It may not,” she admitted, her voice gentle. “But you will endure. You are my daughter. You will endure.”

And with that, the room fell silent once more, the weight of her words pressing down on you as heavily as the mourning garments you wore.

The creaking of the wooden wheels and the steady clatter of hooves filled the air as the funeral procession made its somber journey through the streets. You sat silently beside your mother in the dark confines of the carriage, the heavy mourning gown clinging to your body like a second layer of grief.

Your gaze remained fixed on the carriage ahead of you, where the small, still form of your son lay. Wrapped in the blanket you had lovingly made for him, his tiny body was carefully cradled on a velvet bier, his pale face framed by soft curls that once shone with life.

On his head rested the small crown you and Aegon had given him for his fourth nameday. You remembered how his eyes had lit up with delight when he first saw it, how he had run around the chamber declaring himself “a king like Papa.” The memory stabbed at your chest, and tears silently slipped down your cheeks, unnoticed by the world outside.

Beside you, your mother sat upright and composed, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The dark green of her gown blended with the black hood she wore, her expression unreadable as she gazed straight ahead. But even in her stoicism, you could feel her grief—muted, controlled, yet no less profound.

The crowds lined the streets, their murmurs and whispers barely audible over the sound of the procession. Some wept openly, others lowered their heads in respect, and a few simply stared, their faces etched with shock and sorrow.

Your eyes never left the small form ahead of you. “He’s so cold,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you broke the heavy silence in the carriage.

Alicent turned her head slightly, her sharp eyes softening as they fell on you. “The blanket,” she said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. “It will keep him warm, even now.”

You shook your head, your hands clutching at your gown. “It’s not enough,” you murmured, your voice cracking. “He needs to feel loved. He needs… he needs to wake up.”

Alicent reached out, placing a steady hand over yours. Her touch was firm, grounding you even as her heart ached alongside yours. “He knows he is loved,” she said quietly. “You showed him that every day of his life. That love… it does not end, even now.”

You turned your head to look at her, searching for comfort in her words, but the raw pain in your chest remained unyielding. “Then why does it feel like it’s not enough?”

She didn’t answer, only holding your hand tightly as the carriage carried you forward, the weight of your shared grief filling the air. Ahead of you, the small crown on Jaehaerys’s head glinted faintly in the light, a fragile, heart-wrenching reminder of what you had lost.

As the procession reached the Dragonpit, the air seemed to grow heavier, thick with the weight of grief and the whispers of the gathered crowd. You stepped down from the carriage, your body trembling with exhaustion and sorrow, but the moment your feet touched the ground, the atmosphere shifted.

Your mother following close behind. The crowd pressed closer, their faces filled with sorrow, but their hands reached out too eagerly, too insistently. The weight of their stares, their words, their touch became unbearable.

“Your Grace,” a woman said, gripping your hand tightly, her voice trembling. “The realm mourns with you. Prince Jaehaerys—”

You pulled your hand away, trembling as others replaced her, one after another, their voices blurring into an incomprehensible hum.

“Such a tragedy,” someone else murmured.

“Your strength inspires us all,” another said.

But their words felt like needles pricking at your raw grief. Your chest tightened, and your breathing grew faster, shallower. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you stepped back, your gaze darting around frantically.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head as tears began to fall. “No, I—I can’t…”

You turned to leave, but the crowd surged forward, their outstretched hands reaching for you. It was too much—the noise, the faces, the pity. Your knees buckled, and you clutched your chest as your sobs erupted.

“I don’t want this!” you cried, your voice cracking as you stumbled back. “I don’t want to do this! Stop—please, stop!”

A strong arm wrapped around your shoulders, steadying you. Aegon was at your side in an instant, his face etched with concern and anger as he glared at the crowd. “Back away!” he commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos. “All of you, back away now!”

The crowd hesitated, murmurs rippling through them as they began to retreat. Aegon pulled you closer, his other hand cupping the back of your head as he guided you toward the nearest private space.

“It’s too much,” you sobbed into his chest, clutching at his tunic as though he were the only thing anchoring you to the world. “I can’t… I can’t do this, Aegon.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I know. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

He turned his head, addressing a knight who had stepped forward. “Clear the area. No one approaches her again without my permission.”

The knight nodded and moved to carry out his orders, while Aegon held you tightly, his hand stroking your back as he whispered, “Breathe, my love. I’m here. Just breathe.”

Your tears continued to fall, but his presence grounded you, offering a fragile sense of safety amidst the overwhelming tide of grief and chaos.

The moment came, heavy and suffocating, as Aegon stepped forward to give the final command. You stood by his side, your knees trembling as your eyes remained fixed on the small, still form of your son.

Aegon’s voice rang out, steady but laced with pain, as he uttered the word that sealed your son’s farewell. “Dracarys.”

Sunfyre roared, his golden scales shimmering as he unleashed a torrent of flame. The heat surged forward, consuming the bier in an instant. You watched, helpless, as the fire licked at the edges of the blanket you had made, the crown atop his head glowing briefly before it, too, was claimed by the flames.

The sight was unbearable. A strangled sob escaped your lips, and your body seemed to give out under the weight of your grief. The roaring fire blurred as tears streamed down your cheeks, your vision darkening.

“Aegon…” you whispered weakly, reaching for him before your knees buckled.

Aegon turned just in time to catch you as you collapsed into his arms, your body limp. “No!” he cried, his voice breaking as panic overtook him. “Someone—help!”

He cradled you tightly, his arms trembling as he lowered you gently to the ground. “Wake up,” he begged, his voice desperate as he stroked your face, his thumb brushing away the tears still clinging to your cheeks. “Please, my love, wake up!”

The attendants and guards rushed forward, but Aegon barked at them to stay back. “She’s my wife!” he snapped, his voice a mixture of fury and anguish. “Don’t touch her!”

Alicent appeared moments later, her face pale as she knelt beside her son. “What happened?” she asked urgently, her hands hovering uncertainly over you.

“She fainted,” Aegon said, his voice trembling. “She couldn’t bear it.”

Alicent’s expression softened with sorrow as she looked at you, then at her son. “She needs rest,” she said firmly. “Get her to her chambers.”

Aegon didn’t wait for further instruction. He scooped you up into his arms, holding you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. His heart pounded as he carried you away from the flames, the weight of the moment pressing down on him with every step.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I swear I’ll take care of you.”

tag list : @danytar @looneytun3s @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd (italic means that i can’t tag you)

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd imagine #prince aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #hotd one shot #aegon ii fanfic #aegon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd alicent #aegon fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader

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stylesispunk · 3 months ago

Text

Silent strain | part iv

outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: Time passes by and Joel still doesn't come back. The baby arrives and you feel lonely.

w.c: 10,5k

warnings: angst, mentions of birth, fluff, mentions of blood, not proofreading. Paragraphs in bold indicate flashbacks & paragraphs in cursive indicate journal entries. Reader cries a lot in this one, we didn't have a good week.

a/n: chapter four is here! Thank you to everyone who take their time to leave comments and share this story, which was supposed to be only 3 chapters but became longer. I hope you like this one. Reblogs and comments are appreciated. Happy reading. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Since you had met Joel, this was the first time you had ever been in a room without him. You were surrounding by walls in a safe place that it was foreign for you, sitting alone on the edge of a bed that you had just shared with Joel the night prior, now feeling impossibly lonely without him around. The weight hit you all at once, the quiet, the loneliness, the reality that Joel had left and you didn’t know if him and Ellie would be alright.

The weight of it hit you all at once, the quiet, the loneliness, the overwhelming reality that Joel had left. That you didn’t know if he and Ellie were alright. If they ever would be. A tight knot formed in your chest, pulling tighter with each passing minute.

Your mind raced, thoughts of where Joel might be gnawing at you. Were they already on the road? Were they safe? Had they run into trouble? You tried to push the thoughts away, tried to convince yourself they were fine, that Joel would protect Ellie like he always had. But the fear lingered, gnawing at you in the quiet of the room.

You stood abruptly, the need to do something, anything, to shake off the growing anxiety driving you to your feet. Pacing around the bedroom, your hands trembled slightly as you ran them through your hair, trying to think, trying to breathe through the tightening in your chest.

But no matter how hard you tried; the worry wouldn’t leave. Each time you circled the room, it felt as though the walls were closing in a little more, trapping you in this unbearable uncertainty.

And then, as you turned again, your eyes landed on something that stopped you cold.

There, on the chair by the window, was Joel’s shirt. Not just any shirt—his favorite one, the one he always wore, the one that had become your favorite too. The sight of it hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath from your lungs. You stepped closer, almost as if in a trance, and your trembling fingers reached out to touch the fabric.

The scent of him still lingered in the material, that familiar mix of worn cotton, faint sweat, and the earthy scent that was unmistakably Joel. The tears that had been building in your chest all day finally broke free, spilling down your cheeks as you clutched the shirt in your hands.

Life in the QZ didn’t leave much room for joy. Every day was a struggle, ration cards barely covering enough food, let alone anything extra. But you had managed to save up just enough to get him something special.

The shirt.

You had seen it hanging in the back of a small booth during one of your shifts at the QZ market. It wasn’t much—faded, a little worn—but it had a softness to it that you thought Joel might appreciate. He never said it out loud, but you could tell his clothes were becoming threadbare, the weight of the world making even the little comforts seem unattainable. You wanted to change that, even in a small way.

The look on his face when you handed it to him had been one of complete confusion, like he didn’t quite know what to do with kindness anymore.

“Why’d you get me this?” Joel had asked, his brow furrowing as he held up the shirt, inspecting it like he thought there was some kind of catch.

You shrugged, trying to play it off casually, but your heart was pounding in your chest. “I just… thought you could use something new. You’ve been wearing the same damn thing since I met you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes were still guarded, suspicious. “You used your rations for this?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice a little softer, more vulnerable than you intended. “It’s no big deal. Just… thought you deserved something nice.”

Joel stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. You could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the shirt like he was afraid to accept it, afraid of what it meant. His gaze flickered to yours, and you saw something there, unreadable.

“Why’re you doing this for me?” he asked quietly, his voice rough, almost accusing, as if he couldn’t believe that someone would care about him enough to make such a gesture.

You took a step closer, your heart hammering in your chest. “Because I want to, Joel. Because you matter to me.”

His eyes darkened, the weight of your words settling between you like a heavy fog. You could see the battle he was waging within himself, the walls he had built so high, trying to protect himself from feeling anything. But the look in his eyes softened, if only for a moment, and something shifted.

Before you could say anything else, before you even had a chance to breathe, he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His hand cupped the back of your neck, rough but gentle, and then his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t soft or slow. It was raw, desperate, as if he had been holding himself back for far too long. The kiss stole the air from your lungs, a surge of warmth flooding through you. He kissed you like he needed it, like he couldn’t hold back anymore, and in that moment, you knew that this was more than just a Kiss, it was the first crack in his armor.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Neither could you.

“You shouldn’t be wastin’ rations on me,” he muttered, but his voice was softer now, almost tender.

You smiled, your hands still clutching the fabric of his shirt. “Not a waste. Not at all.”

Joel’s lips twitched, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw a small, real smile.

From that moment on, the shirt had become his favorite. He wore it often, and every time he did, it reminded you of that day, of the first time he had let you in.

From that moment on, you had become the most precious thing he had in the world.”

Tears blurred your vision as you sobbed into the fabric, holding onto it as if it were him, as if it could somehow bring him back. The ache in your heart was unbearable, the reality of his absence crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You whispered his name through your tears, wondering where he was, if he was thinking of you too. If he missed you, and of course he did, you thought. But what was really eating you was his safety. The fear clawed at you, the unknown hanging over you like a dark cloud.

"Please come back," you whispered to the empty room, your voice breaking. But the only answer was the silence, the vast, aching silence that now filled the space Joel had left behind.

At the same time, miles away, Joel lay on the cold floor of an abandoned house, his body limp, covered in sweat and blood. His breath came in ragged gasps, barely enough to keep him conscious. The world around him blurred, the edges of his vision darkening as pain coursed through his body. His grip on reality was slipping, but one thing remained constant in his mind: you.

He tried to focus, tried to stay awake, but it was getting harder. The wound in his side throbbed with every shallow breath, blood seeping through his clothes and pooling beneath him. The searing pain was relentless, but what hurt more was the thought of you, alone, without him.

Ellie was beside him, frantically trying to stop the bleeding, her hands shaking as she applied pressure to his wound. "Joel, stay with me," she pleaded, her voice trembling.

Joel’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, his gaze unfocused. He could hear her voice, but it felt distant, muffled, like she was speaking through water. His thoughts drifted to you—how you had always been the one to keep him grounded, to remind him there was something worth fighting for.

He thought of your smile, the way your eyes would light up when you laughed. He thought of the shirt you'd given him back in the QZ, how he hadn’t understood why someone like you would care for someone like him. He thought of the nights you spent together, wrapped in each other’s arms, and how your belly had grown your baby inside.

The thought of not having the chance of meeting his baby was pulling the string to life now.

"Joel, stay with me!" Ellie’s voice broke through the fog again, more urgent this time. She was crying now, her hands stained red as she tried to keep him alive. She had seen too much death, lost too many people, and she couldn’t lose him too. Not now.

Joel’s breath hitched as his body fought to stay conscious. He thought of you one last time, of the child growing inside you, the life he had left behind to protect Ellie. He had made a choice, but now, as the darkness threatened to pull him under, all he could think about was getting back to you.

His hand twitched, reaching for something—anything to hold on to—but all he felt was the cold, hard floor beneath him. His eyelids grew heavier, his body weaker, but somewhere deep inside, he clung to the hope that he would see you again. That he would make it back to you.

"Please," he whispered, though it was barely audible. He wasn’t sure if he was begging Ellie to save him or if it was a prayer to the universe to bring him back to you.

Ellie’s hands didn’t stop, her desperation fueling her as she fought to keep him alive. "I won’t let you die," she swore, her voice raw with emotion. "I won’t."

But as Joel’s world faded to black, the only thing on his mind was you, and the sound of your voice, the warmth of your touch, everything that had kept him going. The thought of you was his last tether to the world, the only thing he could hold onto in the darkness.

And then, there was nothing.

you stirred awake to the soft light filtering through the window, your body still heavy with exhaustion and the weight of your sorrow. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of Joel’s shirt, the scent of him lingering in the fibers, a bittersweet reminder of his absence.

A gentle knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You sat up slowly, wiping the remnants of tears from your cheeks, the reality of the past few days crashing back over you like a wave. “Come in,” you called, your voice hoarse from crying.

The door creaked open, revealing Tommy standing in the doorway, a worried expression etched across his face. “Hey,” he said softly, stepping into the room. “I thought I’d check on you.”

You forced a small smile, but it felt fragile, like it might shatter at any moment. “I’m okay,” you lied, though the truth hung heavily in the air between you.

Tommy’s gaze fell to the shirt in your hands, his expression shifting to one of understanding. “You miss him,” he stated rather than asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, the tears welling up again, and you quickly blinked them away. “Of course I miss him. And I don’t know if he is okay.”

Tommy moved closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I wish I could tell you he is. But… we’ve been through a lot, and sometimes, we have to trust that they’ll come back to us.”

His words brought some comfort, but it was fleeting. “What if he doesn’t?” you whispered. “What if he and Ellie are hurt?”

You wanted to believe him, to cling to that hope, but the uncertainty gnawed at you. “I just want him back,” you admitted, the ache in your heart making your voice crack. “I want them both back, we were supposed to be a family.”

Tommy’s expression softened; the concern etched on his face deepening. “I know,” he replied, his voice steady. “You’re right. You three are a family, and it’s not fair for you to feel this way.”

The raw emotion in your words hung heavy in the air. You could feel the tears welling up again, threatening to spill over. “It just feels so empty without him.”

He nodded in understanding, his gaze unwavering. “Joel’s a fighter, and so are you. Just hold on to that. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that hope can keep us going even when things seem dark.”

“But what if hope isn’t enough?” you asked, frustration creeping into your voice. “What if he’s out there, and I’m just stuck here waiting?”

Tommy sighed, leaning forward slightly. “You’re not just waiting. You’re doing something important right now by taking care of yourself and that baby. Joel would want you to stay safe and strong. You’re both his world.”

His words made you pause. You had been so consumed with worry that you hadn’t allowed yourself to consider what Joel would want for you, for the baby. You needed to honor his love by taking care of yourself, even if it felt impossible at the moment.

“I know you’re right,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “It’s just hard to think of anything else when all I want is to be with him.”

Tommy reached over, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Now, you have to keep yourself strong for my baby nephew or niece there” he said pointing at your belly, “And I heard that there is a delicious breakfast waiting for you at my house.”

A small smile broke through your sadness at Tommy's words. The thought of food, especially something delicious, made your stomach rumble. “Breakfast, huh?” you said, attempting to lighten the mood. “Is it worth the trek over there?”

Tommy chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. “You bet it is. Maria’s been in the kitchen since sunrise, whipping up all sorts of goodies. You can’t say no to her pancakes.”

The mention of Maria made your heart feel a little lighter. She always had a way of brightening your day, and the thought of spending time with her and Tommy brought a hint of normalcy back into your chaotic world. “Alright, I guess I can be tempted by pancakes,” you said, wiping your eyes and taking a deep breath. “Just give me a moment to get ready.”

As you stood up and moved towards the small mirror on the wall, Tommy turned to leave, but not before he added, “And remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re all here for you, and Joel will come back. You have to believe that.”

You nodded, feeling the flicker of hope ignite once more within you. “I will, Tommy. Thank you.”

As the weeks passed, life in Jackson continued to move forward, albeit without Joel. You immersed yourself in the routine of the community, trying to find solace in the familiar faces and daily activities. However, your heart remained tethered to the memories of him, each thought a bittersweet reminder of what was lost.

Paul’s presence became more pronounced during this time. His visits were frequent, and he often lingered a bit longer than necessary, his laughter ringing through your home, filling the silence left by Joel. At first, you welcomed his company, finding comfort in his kindness, but gradually you began to notice the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his touch was a little too warm, a little too intentional.

You were oblivious to his growing intentions, too consumed by thoughts of Joel. Every time Paul made a gesture that hinted at something more—like the way he’d offer to carry things for you or the way his smile seemed to brighten when he caught your eye—you brushed it off as friendly camaraderie.

But in the quiet moments, especially as your pregnancy progressed, you couldn’t help but wonder what Joel would say or do. You often imagined him here, by your side, offering his protective presence and the warmth of his love.

One afternoon, while you were resting on the porch, Paul joined you, bringing along a small basket of fruit. “Thought you might like a snack,” he said, settling down beside you. “You’ve got to keep your strength up.”

“Thanks, Paul,” you replied, taking a piece of fruit and munching on it absentmindedly. Your mind drifted, imagining Joel’s voice teasing you about how much you were eating, and you couldn’t suppress a smile at the thought.

Paul watched you, his expression softening as he leaned a bit closer. “You know,” he started, hesitating for a moment as if weighing his words. “You’re pretty amazing. I admire how strong you are, going through all this without—”

“Without Joel?” you interjected gently, your heart clenching at the mention of his name. “I don’t really feel strong. I just… I’m doing what I have to do.”

Paul nodded, a hint of disappointment flickering across his face, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “Right. Just know I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need.”

You offered him a grateful smile, but inside, the ache for Joel was relentless. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that Joel would come back, and that you could return to the life you had built together. But every passing day made the reality of that hope feel more distant.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow across the horizon, you felt the familiar pang of loneliness creeping back in. You were in Jackson, surrounded by people, yet the emptiness inside you was profound. No amount of comfort from Paul could fill the void that Joel had left behind.

February 15

It’s been weeks since Joel left, and I’m still struggling to accept it. I find myself waking up each morning, hoping that it was all just a nightmare, but the empty side of the bed reminds me of the truth. I miss him more than I can put into words.

Tommy and Maria have been amazing, and I’m grateful for their support. They try to keep me distracted, to make me feel like I’m not alone, but the truth is that every moment feels heavy without him here. Even the laughter we share feels tinged with sadness. I want to be strong, for my baby and for Joel, but some days, it feels like an impossible task.

And then there’s Paul. He’s kind and thoughtful, and I can see that he cares about me. I appreciate everything he does, but it feels wrong to let myself lean on him. My heart belongs to Joel, and nothing will change that. I’m still waiting for him to come back, to hold me again and make everything feel right.

I can’t shake the fear that I might never see him again. What if something happened? What if he’s in pain? My heart aches with every unanswered question. I wish I could tell him that I love him, that I’m thinking of him every second of the day.

But then, I think of the baby. The baby needs me to be strong. I need to focus on keeping myself healthy for them, even when it feels like my heart is breaking. I can’t forget about them in the midst of all this pain.

I keep reminding myself that I’m not alone. I have Tommy and Maria, and even Paul, though it feels complicated sometimes. I just wish I could feel whole again.

As I sit here writing, holding onto this shirt of Joel's, I hope that wherever he is, he knows how much I love him. I hope he’s safe and that he’s thinking of me too. I’ll keep writing until he returns. It’s the only way I know how to keep our story alive.”

It was one of those quiet evenings when the weight of Joel's absence seemed unbearable. You hadn’t seen much of Tommy or Maria that day, and Dr. Paul had stopped by as usual. This time, though, he lingered longer, suggesting he bring you dinner to keep you company. You hesitated, but the idea of eating alone in the house that felt more like a stranger’s shelter than a home wore on you. So, reluctantly, you agreed.

The two of you sat across from each other at the small table, plates of food in front of you, but you barely touched yours. Paul, on the other hand, seemed relaxed, making light conversation about the community, about his work. You nodded along, offering small smiles, but your mind wandered, as it always did, back to Joel.

After a while, Paul cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between bites. His eyes lingered on you, a softness there that made you shift uncomfortably in your seat. "You know," he began, his voice gentle but carrying a certain weight, "you won’t be able to do this alone forever."

You furrowed your brows, not quite following. "What do you mean?"

Paul leaned forward slightly, his expression serious, yet warm. "Raising a baby... it’s not something you should have to handle on your own. You’ll need someone by your side. Someone who can help you, take care of you and the baby."

Your heart skipped a beat at the insinuation, and for a moment, the room felt too small. The air thickened as you stared at him, realization dawning slowly. He wasn’t just offering help out of kindness. There was something more to his visits, to his attentiveness, something you hadn’t seen until now.

You swallowed hard, a flash of anger mixing with the ache of missing Joel. You pushed your plate away, your appetite completely gone now. "Joel’s gonna get back," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. "He’s coming back."

Paul blinked, taken aback by your response. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes searching yours as if trying to figure out how to respond. "I understand that you care for Joel," he said carefully, his tone measured, "but he left, didn’t he? He made a choice."

Your jaw tightened, defensive walls going up. "I don’t care about Joel. I love him. I’m in love with him. He’s doing what he has to. He’s coming back for us. I know it."

Paul’s gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something else behind his eyes—concern, perhaps, or frustration. “I just don’t want you to set yourself up for heartbreak. You deserve to have someone who’s here for you now, not just someone you hope will come back.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “You don’t know what we have, Paul. You don’t understand the bond we built, the things we’ve been through together.”

His expression shifted slightly, a mix of empathy and something you couldn’t quite place. “And I respect that. But you also need to think about your future—about your baby. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he’s...”

“Stop,” you interrupted, the word bursting from you like a shield. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. I won’t allow myself to entertain that thought. Joel will come back for us and before the baby arrives.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the only sounds coming from the gentle crackling of the fire in the corner and the distant hum of life outside. You could feel the weight of the unspoken hanging between you, a chasm created by the gulf of your differing hopes.

Paul opened his mouth, clearly torn on how to respond. “Look, I’m not trying to come between you two. I just—”

“I know,” you interjected, your voice calmer now, but still firm. “You care. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, for the baby. But my heart belongs to Joel, and it always will. It’s not fair to me or to him to act like that connection doesn’t exist just because he’s not here right now.”

Paul sighed, leaning back in his chair with a resigned expression. “Okay. I hear you. But just know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Whether it’s just as a friend or... more. Just think about it, alright?”

You nodded, though your heart felt heavy. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he wanted to help. But every time you thought of Joel, a warmth spread through you that no one else could replicate.

“Thanks, Paul,” you said quietly, forcing a small smile. “But I think you should go.”

Paul's face fell at your words, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features. The warmth that had been there moments before faded, replaced by a guarded expression. “I understand,” he replied softly, his voice steady despite the obvious hurt. “I just wanted to help you, to be there for you in any way I could.”

You felt a pang of guilt for turning him away, but you had to be firm. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Paul. Really. But from now on, I think it’s best if we keep things more... professional. I need to focus on me and the baby right now. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

He nodded slowly, processing your words. “Of course. I can respect that,” he said, though the disappointment lingered in his eyes. “I’ll check on the baby and make sure you’re both doing okay, but I won’t push for anything more.”

“Thank you,” you said, relieved that he seemed to understand. “That’s all I need for now. Just someone who can help with check-ups and advice. No more dinners or flowers or anything like that. I need to keep my mind clear.”

Paul inhaled deeply, nodding again. “I get it. I really do. Just know that if you ever change your mind or need anything, I’m here.”

As he stood up to leave, the atmosphere in the room shifted, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging heavily in the air. You felt a mix of sadness and relief wash over you, knowing that you had made the right choice for your heart, but also recognizing the friendship that was slipping away.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice softening again as he moved toward the door. “And take care of that little one. I’ll be around to check on you both.”

“Thanks, Paul,” you replied, forcing a smile even though your heart felt heavy. As he stepped outside, the door closing gently behind him, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You stared at the empty chair where he had just sat, the silence of the room settling around you. The reality of your situation loomed large; you were alone in a world where you were still waiting for Joel, still holding onto hope. The ache of missing him was as familiar as the beating of your heart, a constant reminder that some connections could never truly be replaced.

As you turned your gaze back to the window, you let your thoughts drift once more to Joel, the warmth of his memory wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You closed your eyes and whispered his name, hoping with all your heart that he was safe, that he was thinking of you too, and that one day soon, he would return to fill the void in your life.

You were about to give birth and Joel would be here by then.

The day had finally arrived, but as you lay in the infirmary, the pain of contractions rippled through you, sharper than you could have imagined. Each wave of discomfort was accompanied by a fresh wave of disappointment and anger, emotions that seemed to swirl together in a chaotic dance within you.

You gripped the edge of the bed, trying to focus on your breathing, but it felt impossible to push away the nagging thought that Joel should have been there. This was a moment that deserved his presence, his strength. You had envisioned him by your side, his reassuring voice guiding you through the pain, just as he had done so many times before. But instead, you were alone, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and the sterile smell of antiseptic.

“Just breathe, you’re doing great,” Paul said, trying to offer comfort as he checked your progress. His voice was calm and steady, but it did little to soothe the tumult inside you. You could sense his concern, but all you could think about was Joel, his absence a heavy weight on your chest.

“Where is he?” you gasped, the question slipping from your lips, filled with a mix of desperation and fury. “He should be here! He promised... he would be back.” The words came out more like a plea, the frustration boiling beneath the surface as you fought against the pain.

Paul exchanged a worried glance with the Tommy and Marie before looking back at you. “I know you’re scared. But you need to focus on the baby right now. You can do this.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to focus on the here and now, but every wave of pain brought Joel’s face to your mind, and with it, a sharp pang of grief. Tommy’s hand was on yours, a steady, reassuring presence. “You’re doing great,” he murmured, though his voice sounded distant, almost muffled. “Just a little longer.”

You barely heard him, your thoughts swirling. The pressure built, and a cry escaped your lips as another contraction tore through you. Maria was on your other side, her face tight with worry. "Just breathe," she urged. "You're almost there."

You squeezed Tommy's hand harder, your nails digging into his skin, but he didn’t flinch. Finally, there was a moment of stillness, a pause in the storm of pain. You felt the baby slide free, and then there was a new sound, thin and high-pitched, cutting through the air, the cry of a newborn.

But instead of relief, a hollow feeling settled in your chest. Your breath hitched, and your eyes remained tightly shut, refusing to open, refusing to acknowledge what had just happened.

Maria moved quickly, wrapping the baby in a soft blanket, her eyes filled with tears as she turned to you. "It’s a girl," she whispered, her voice soft, almost reverent. "A beautiful, healthy girl."

You didn’t look. You couldn’t. “No,” you muttered, shaking your head weakly. “I… I don’t want to see her.”

Maria hesitated, a look of confusion flashing across her face. “But… she’s your baby,” she urged gently. "She's right here. She's perfect."

Tommy glanced at Maria, then back at you, a look of worry crossing his face. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, “what’s going on? You’ve been waiting for this, for her. She’s your daughter.”

You felt a sob catch in your throat, the words clawing to get out. "I can’t… I can’t do this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not without him. I can't..."

The room fell into a heavy silence, Maria and Tommy exchanging a look filled with unspoken concern. Tommy’s face softened, his grip on your hand tightening. “He’ll come back,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “Joel will come back. You know he would never leave you like this… not for good.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. "He left," you murmured, your voice trembling. "He left, and I don't know if he’s ever coming back. I don’t know how to do this without him. I don’t want to… I can’t look at her."

Maria’s expression softened, and she gently handed the baby to a nearby nurse, who took the little girl away for a moment. "It’s okay,” Maria whispered, sitting closer to you. "It's okay to be scared. It's okay to feel lost."

Your chest tightened, a sob breaking free from your lips. “I just… I needed him to be here,” you confessed, your voice small and broken. “I needed him, and he’s gone.”

Tommy rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, his eyes filled with empathy. "I know," he said quietly. "I know it hurts. But you’re not alone, okay? We’re here, Maria and I… all of Jackson is here for you. And Joel… I believe he’ll come back. You have to believe that too."

You closed your eyes again, feeling the exhaustion settling over you like a heavy blanket. "I don’t know how to feel," you whispered, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

Tommy sighed, nodding slowly. “Take your time,” he murmured. “We’re not going anywhere. And when you’re ready… your little girl will be here, waiting for you.”

Maria reached out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered softly. “And she needs her mom. But we’ll take care of her for now. We’ll make sure she’s safe. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You nodded, barely, a sense of numbness spreading through you. Somewhere, deep inside, you wanted to believe that Joel would walk through that door any second now, that he’d see his daughter, hold her, and everything would be okay.

But until then, all you could do was wait.

A few hours later, the room had quieted down, the dim light from a nearby lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. You felt a heavy exhaustion weighing down on you, a bone-deep tiredness that seemed to seep into every part of your being. The adrenaline from the birth had faded, leaving you with a hollow ache that was more emotional than physical.

The door creaked open, and you heard the footsteps before you saw him.

Paul stepped inside, a gentle smile on his face. “Hey there,” he said softly, his voice low to avoid startling you. “How are you holding up?”

You nodded slightly, trying to muster a smile despite the emotional weight in your heart. “I’m okay. Just... tired.”

He moved closer, clearing his throat, looking down at you with a polite but firm expression. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice low in the quiet room. “I know it’s been a lot, and you’re tired… but your baby girl needs to be fed.”

You turned your head away, staring at the wall, trying to ignore the tightening in your chest. You weren’t ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He took a step closer, his voice growing softer, almost coaxing. “She’s hungry. And the sooner you start, the better it’ll be for both of you. I know this is hard, but…” He hesitated, a slight frown creasing his brow. “She needs her mom.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling a spark of irritation at his words. "I can’t," you muttered, your voice barely a whisper. “Not now.”

He sighed, moving to the edge of the bed, his eyes searching your face for something, understanding, maybe. “Look, I get it,” he began, his tone more insistent. “But you can’t just leave her to starve. You’re all she has right now. You’re her whole world.”

You shot him a sharp glance, your frustration bubbling up. "I said no," you replied, your voice firmer this time. “Get someone else to feed her.”

Paul’s expression tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "There isn't anyone else,” he pressed. “We don’t have a lot of resources here, and formula is limited. You have to do this, or she’ll suffer.”

The weight of his words hit you, but so did his tone. The way he seemed to be blaming you, as if it was your fault that you were too broken, too overwhelmed to even look at your own child.

Maria, who had been hovering nearby, stepped forward, placing a calming hand on the doctor’s arm. “Paul, give her a minute, okay?” she said softly but firmly. “She’s just been through a lot. Let’s give her some space.”

He nodded, reluctantly stepping back. "I’m just saying,” he muttered, his gaze flicking back to you. "She’s going to need her mother sooner rather than later."

He turned and left the room, his footsteps fading down the hallway. Maria watched him go, then turned back to you, her eyes filled with empathy. She reached out, gently squeezing your hand. “I know he can be a bit… pushy,” she said quietly, “but he’s right about one thing. She does need you.”

You swallowed hard, tears stinging your eyes again. “I just… I can’t face her, Maria,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “Not when I feel like this. Not without Joel.”

Maria nodded, understanding in her eyes. “I get it,” she whispered. “But you’re stronger than you think. And that little girl… she’s a part of you. And Joel, too.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you felt the weight of them settle in your heart. You were afraid — of loving this child, of losing her, of losing another part of yourself if Joel never came back. But there was also a flicker of something else, something deep and primal — the instinct to protect, to care, to nurture.

“I’ll bring her in,” Maria offered gently, “just for a moment. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. Just… see her. That’s all.”

You hesitated, then slowly nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. Maria gave you a small smile, squeezing your hand again before leaving the room.

A few moments later, she returned with a tiny bundle in her arms. Your baby. So small, so fragile. The baby’s eyes were closed, her tiny mouth opening and closing in search of comfort.

Maria carefully placed her in your arms, and for the first time, you looked down at your daughter. Her face was so small, her skin so soft, and suddenly, without warning, a sob broke free from your chest. The sight of her, the feel of her warmth against you, tore through all the walls you’d built.

She was a piece of you. And a piece of Joel. And despite everything, despite the pain, the fear, the uncertainty, she was here, and she was yours.

You took a shaky breath, feeling the tears flow freely down your cheeks. “Hey, little one,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

The baby stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open for the briefest moment, and in that instant, you felt a small spark of something in your chest, a tiny flicker of love, a tiny piece of you.

"Hi, baby Rosie," you whispered softly, naming her after the flowers you’d always loved, the ones that somehow still managed to grow even in the worst conditions. The name felt right, like a promise of something beautiful amidst all the harshness. Rosie shifted slightly, her tiny fingers curling against your chest, and a small, tender smile broke through your tears.

Maria’s smile widened, a warm, proud light in her eyes. "That’s a beautiful name," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "Rosie… it suits her."

Just then, Tommy stepped into the room, his footsteps soft but purposeful. His gaze fell on you, cradling Rosie in your arms, and his face softened into a gentle, almost surprised smile. "Well, look at that," he said quietly, moving closer, his eyes never leaving the small bundle in your arms. "That’s my niece."

He came to your side, glancing at Maria for a moment, then back to you. There was something in his expression — a mix of relief, pride, and a kind of cautious joy. He looked down at Rosie, and you could see his eyes glisten just a little. "She’s beautiful," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat.

You nodded, your own emotions swirling, a strange mix of overwhelming love and the lingering ache of uncertainty. “She is,” you agreed softly, glancing down at your daughter. “She’s so… tiny.”

Tommy chuckled, his smile growing wider. “Yeah, they start that way,” he teased gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before his hand lightly brushed Rosie’s head. “Hey there, Rosie,” he murmured. “You’re gonna be just fine. Got your mama right here… and your uncle Tommy, too.”

Maria moved closer, wrapping an arm around Tommy’s waist. “We’re all here,” she added, her voice soft but firm. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it. You’ve got us.”

You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, grateful for their presence, their support, and their love. It didn’t erase the pain or the uncertainty, but it made it a little easier to bear. Holding Rosie closer, you allowed yourself to breathe, to feel the warmth of this moment, to hope — even just a little — that things might be okay.

Rosie let out a tiny yawn, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a small smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you," you whispered, glancing up at Tommy and Maria. "For being here… for everything."

Tommy gave a slight nod, his expression tender. "We're family," he replied simply. "That’s what we do."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. Rosie began to fuss in your arms, her tiny mouth opening and closing, searching. You glanced at Maria, who gave you an encouraging nod. "It’s okay," she whispered. "She’s hungry."

You adjusted your position on the bed, feeling a mix of nervousness and instinct kicking in. As you began to unbutton your shirt to feed Rosie, you noticed Tommy standing awkwardly nearby, his eyes wide as he realized what was about to happen.

His face turned a shade redder, and he quickly looked away, trying to give you privacy. “Uh… yeah, I’ll just… I’ll, uh… step out,” he stammered, taking a step back toward the door. He paused for a moment, then added with a slight grin, “And don’t worry, I’ll never tell Joel I saw this.”

Maria burst out laughing at his awkwardness, shaking her head. “Oh, come on, Tommy. It’s just feeding a baby. You’ve seen worse.”

Tommy’s smile widened, though he kept his gaze firmly on the floor. "Yeah, but Joel’s my brother, and I don’t think he’d appreciate me having a front-row seat to… this," he muttered, his voice light with humor but his discomfort still clear.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, a bit of tension easing from your shoulders. “Thanks, Tommy,” you said, grateful for the attempt at levity in such a raw moment. “And yeah, maybe keep this one to yourself.”

Tommy gave you a playful salute. “You got it,” he said before slipping out of the room, leaving you with Maria and Rosie.

Maria moved closer, her smile warm and understanding. “You’re doing great,” she murmured. “And don’t mind Tommy. He’s just being… well, Tommy.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease. Rosie’s small movements brought your attention back to her, and you focused on the task at hand. You guided her to latch, feeling a mix of discomfort and wonder as she began to feed. For a moment, all the noise in your mind quieted, and there was just the steady rhythm of her tiny breaths, the rise and fall of your chest, and the warmth of her against you.

Maria watched with a soft smile, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding. "See?" she whispered. "You’ve got this."

You nodded slowly, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. Maybe, just maybe, you did.

A month had passed since Rosie was born, and the world outside felt heavier than ever. Each day, you rose with the sun, cradling your baby and navigating the delicate balance of motherhood in a world that seemed intent on breaking you. But the absence of Joel loomed larger than any other burden. His absence echoed through the quiet of your days, a painful reminder of the love you’d lost amid the chaos.

As you paced the small living space, the walls felt like they were closing in on you. The gentle cooing of Rosie contrasted sharply with the storm brewing in your heart. Every time you glanced at her, you felt a pang of anger bubble up — anger at the universe for taking him from you, anger at yourself for being so vulnerable, and anger at the endless cycle of survival that left little room for hope.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, Rosie cradled against your chest, her tiny fingers clutching your shirt. She was so innocent, so unaware of the weight that pressed down on you. You fought back tears as you watched her, the small signs of growth reminding you of everything you wished could be different. It felt unfair that she had to grow up in this world without her father, without the love and protection he could provide.

A knock at the door jolted you from your thoughts. You looked over, half-expecting to see Joel standing there, but when you opened the door, it was Tommy. His face bore the lines of concern, but you couldn't muster the energy to reciprocate his warmth.

"Hey," he greeted softly, stepping inside and glancing at Rosie, who had fallen asleep against you. “She’s getting so big.”

You forced a smile, but it felt like a mask over the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Yeah," you said, your voice lacking its usual warmth. "She is."

Tommy shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s been tough… I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”

You couldn’t hold back the anger any longer. “What I’m feeling? I’m feeling like a single mother in a godforsaken world with no sign of the man I love! He should be here with us, Tommy!” Your voice raised, the emotion pouring out like a floodgate unleashed.

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” he replied, his tone gentle but firm. “But we’re doing everything we can to find him. You have to believe that.”

You shook your head, stepping away from the door, feeling the walls close in even more. “What’s the point? What if he doesn’t come back? What if he never gets to meet Rosie? I can’t keep living in this limbo, waiting for something that might never happen.”

Tommy’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer. “You’re not alone, you know? Maria and I are here for you. We want to help however we can.”

You huffed, crossing your arms defensively. “Help? You can’t bring him back. No one can.” You paused. “Maria is carrying your child, Tommy. You must worry about her.”

“I do. And I also care for my niece and my sister-in-law” he answered.

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, but your frustration bubbled just below the surface. “That doesn’t change the fact that Joel should be here. He’s missing, and I can’t just sit back and pretend everything’s fine while you and Maria are about to become parents. It feels… unfair.”

Tommy’s expression grew serious. “I know it’s not easy, but you can’t push us away. We want to be here for you and Rosie. And just because Maria and I are starting a family doesn’t mean we care any less about you. We’re all in this together.”

You turned away, staring at the wall, feeling the weight of his words. Part of you wanted to reject his offer of support, to wallow in your pain and anger, but another part craved the connection and the reassurance that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you felt.

“Why can’t you just understand how hard this is for me?” you said, your voice trembling. “Every time I look at Rosie, I see everything I’ve lost. I can’t bear the thought of loving her and then losing her too.”

Tommy stepped closer, his voice lowering to a gentle tone. “You’re not going to lose her. And you’re not losing Joel either. He’s out there, and we’ll do everything we can to bring him back. But you have to let us help you through this. It’s okay to be scared, to feel overwhelmed. You don’t have to go through it all alone.”

You met his gaze, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you found was unwavering support. Taking a deep breath, you let the anger fade just a little, allowing the vulnerability to seep in.

“Okay,” you said quietly, finally letting the walls you’d built start to crumble. “Maybe I don’t know how to be strong all the time. Maybe I do need help.”

Tommy’s face broke into a warm smile, relief washing over him. “Good. Let’s take it one day at a time. I’ll help however I can. We can figure out feeding routines, and I can take care of some chores around here. Just… don’t shut us out.”

You nodded slowly, “Thank you.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the past month’s isolation slowly lifting. It wasn’t that you didn’t want help; it was that the fear of losing Joel had wrapped around you like a shroud, making it hard to see a way forward. But with Tommy’s support, a small crack of light broke through.

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggested, his voice lightening a bit. “How about I take Rosie for a bit while you get some rest? You look like you could use it.”

You hesitated, glancing at the tiny bundle in your arms. “Are you sure? I don’t want to overwhelm you with her.”

Tommy chuckled softly, a hint of warmth in his voice. “I promise, I can handle a baby. Besides, I want to get to know my niece. Just give me a moment.”

You reluctantly handed Rosie over, your heart fluttering with both anxiety and relief. Watching as Tommy cradled her, a gentle smile on his face, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in knowing she was with family.

“See? She’s in good hands,” he assured you, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “I’ll take good care of her. You just take some time for yourself.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease. “Okay. Just for a little while.”

As Tommy settled into the rocking chair with Rosie, you stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind you. The moment you were alone, you felt the remnants of tension seep from your body, leaving you a bit lighter.

You made your way to the small bathroom, splashing cool water on your face and letting the sensation ground you. Your reflection in the mirror was a reminder of the past weeks — the sleepless nights, the tears, the fear. But beneath it all, you also saw a flicker of resilience.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped back into the living area, where the sounds of Tommy cooing at Rosie filled the space. It was a simple moment, but it felt monumental. You could see how much Tommy genuinely cared, and the thought made your heart swell.

As you joined them, settling onto the couch across from him, you watched the two of them. “What are you talking about?” you asked, a playful curiosity tugging at your lips.

Tommy looked up with a grin. “Just telling her all the stories about her uncle. I was quite the troublemaker, you know.”

“Oh really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine that.”

He laughed; the sound infectious. “You should have seen me. I could charm anyone out of trouble… except for Joel. He always saw right through me.”

You felt a small smile break through as you listened to him reminisce. It was a distraction you desperately needed, a chance to be reminded of the good things in life even amidst the chaos.

As the minutes passed, you began to feel a shift within yourself — a softening of the hard edges that grief had carved into your heart. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they once seemed. Maybe, with time and support, you could learn to navigate this new chapter alongside Rosie, surrounded by family who cared.

And as you watched Tommy bounce Rosie gently, you allowed yourself to entertain a sliver of hope. Perhaps Joel would find his way back to you, and until then, you had a new purpose to embrace, even in the absence of the one you loved.

A few days later, the air in the infirmary was thick with the familiar scent of antiseptic and the quiet hum of muted conversations. You sat on a worn-out chair, cradling Rosie in your arms as you watched Paul examine her. The little one was wrapped snugly in a soft blanket, her tiny features serene as she slept.

Paul, focused on his task, checked Rosie’s vitals, his brow furrowed in concentration. You could see the care in his movements, the way he gently examined her delicate limbs and listened to her heartbeat. After a moment, he straightened up, turning his attention to you.

“She’s doing well,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice. “Gaining weight, which is a good sign. Just keep an eye on her feeding schedule.”

You nodded, feeling a swell of pride. “I’ve been trying my best.”

Paul offered a small smile before his expression shifted, becoming more serious. “Can we talk for a moment?”

“Okay,” you replied, bracing yourself for what might come next.

Paul’s gaze dropped, and he took a deep breath before speaking again. “See, I told you he wasn’t going to come back.”

The words struck you like a blow, igniting a spark of anger deep within. “What do you mean?” you snapped, your voice rising. “You’re just going to give up on him like that?”

“I'm not giving up,” Paul said quickly, his tone defensive. “I’m trying to prepare you for the reality of this situation.”

“Reality?” you echoed, disbelief flooding your voice. “You think I don’t know what reality is? You think I want to believe he’s gone? I can’t just accept that!”

He held up his hands, trying to calm the storm brewing inside you. “I understand. But holding onto hope for too long can be dangerous. It can lead to more pain.”

“More pain?” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You think I haven’t felt pain? You think it doesn’t hurt to think about him every single day, wondering if he’s, okay? Wondering if he’s thinking of us?”

Paul’s expression softened, but the seriousness remained. “I just don’t want you to be hurt even more when the reality sinks in.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks, frustration and sorrow bubbling beneath the surface. “You don’t get to dictate how I feel, Paul! You can’t just stand there and tell me to give up on someone I love. Joel is out there. I know he is. He wouldn’t leave us. He wouldn’t abandon me and Rosie.”

“I wish I could believe that as much as you do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But you need to face the possibility that he’s not coming back. It’s not about giving up; it’s about being realistic.”

“Realistic?” you shot back, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “You think being realistic means I should stop hoping? That I should stop fighting for him? You’re wrong. If there’s even the slightest chance that he’s out there, I’m not going to let it go. Not now, not ever.”

Paul stepped closer; concern etched on his face. “You can’t do this alone. You need support, and right now, your focus should be on Rosie. She needs you.”

The mention of Rosie made the anger in your chest swirl into something more painful—guilt. “I know she needs me,” you said, your voice dropping. “But how can I be there for her when a part of me feels like it’s dying inside? How can I pretend everything is okay when I’m terrified of what the future holds without him?”

Paul’s expression softened further, and for a moment, you could see the struggle in his eyes. “I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m just trying to help you navigate this. You’re not alone in this fight, and we’re all here for you, ready to support you.”

Taking a deep breath, you felt the walls you had built around your heart beginning to crack. “I don’t want to lose him, Paul. I can’t. Not now, when I finally have a family of my own.”

“Then let us help you,” he urged, his voice earnest. “Let us be your family. We’ll do this together, one day at a time.”

You met his gaze, searching for a glimmer of hope, and found only sincerity. “I don’t know how,” you admitted, feeling the weight of your despair.

“Just start by being present,” he said gently. “For Rosie. For yourself. We’ll figure out the rest as we go. You’re stronger than you think, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

You shook your head, “No. I will never going to feel love for you, Paul”

Paul’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and hurt flashing across his face. “I wasn’t asking you to love me,” he said, his voice steady but laced with disappointment. “I’m just trying to be here for you, to help you through this.”

“Help? You mean take Joel’s place?” you shot back, frustration bubbling over. “I can’t just forget about him, Paul. I won’t. I loved him, and I still do.”

“I get that,” he replied, his tone softening. “But you need to start living for yourself and Rosie. Holding onto Joel’s memory is one thing, but shutting everyone else out is another. You’re pushing away the people who care about you.”

You carefully shifted Rosie in your arms, holding her close as you locked eyes with Paul. “It’s her and me and Tommy and Maria; they are my family,” you said firmly, the protective instinct for your little girl rising within you. “You will never be part of that.”

Paul’s face fell, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air. “I understand that you feel this way, but it doesn’t mean you have to shut everyone out,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

“I’m sorry for being honest about it,” you continued, feeling a mixture of regret and resolve. “But having a daughter and being alone doesn’t make me a damsel in distress. I’m doing the best I can, and I won’t pretend to want something I don’t.”

His brows furrowed, and he took a step back as if your words had physically struck him. “I never thought of you as a damsel in distress. I see your strength, but it’s hard to see you pushing away those who want to help. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I appreciate that you care, Paul, but I don’t want help that comes with strings attached,” you insisted. “You may want to be there for me, but I’m not ready for that. My focus is Rosie, and I need to figure this out on my own.”

“I just want to be a part of your life, to support you both,” he replied, his voice softening. “I know it’s not easy, but I can be there for you without trying to replace Joel. I can respect that.”

You felt your heart ache “I said no.”

You felt your heart ache as the weight of his words hung in the air. “I said no,” you reiterated firmly, standing up from the chair, cradling Rosie closer to your chest. “I can’t do this right now, Paul. I need space.”

Paul opened his mouth, perhaps to argue, but then he hesitated, the look in his eyes shifting from concern to resignation. “I get it,” he said softly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just want what’s best for you and Rosie.”

You turned away, the tears threatening to spill over as you fought to keep your composure. “What’s best for me is to be left alone to figure this out. I have to focus on my daughter.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and tense. You could feel Paul’s gaze on you, a mix of hurt and confusion in his expression, but you steeled yourself against it. You couldn’t let the guilt of his disappointment sway your decision.

“I’ll come back for the check-up,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. “But I need time to breathe, Paul. Please respect that.”

As you moved toward the door, you felt a pang of regret and relief. You opened the door, taking one last look at him. His expression was concerned and sad, but you knew this was what you needed.

As you stepped back into your small, cozy home, the door closing softly behind you, the weight of the world seemed to lift, even if just for a moment. You looked down at Rosie, her tiny eyes fluttering as she began to settle in your arms. Her soft breath was a reminder that despite everything, there was love and hope right here in your arms.

“Shh, Rosie. We’re home now,” you whispered gently, brushing your lips against her forehead. “It’s just you and me, baby girl. We’re gonna be okay.”

Her little hand gripped your shirt, and the corners of your mouth tugged into a small smile. The bond you felt with her was something no one could break. As you moved toward the rocking chair by the window, the soft glow of the setting sun bathed the room in a warm light. You gently lowered yourself into the chair, cradling Rosie close, rocking her slowly.

"You're so beautiful, Rosie," you murmured, watching her tiny face relax into sleep. "Your daddy would love you so much. He'll love you so much when he gets back. He’s coming back, sweetheart. I know he is."

The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that usually made your heart ache with Joel's absence. But tonight, with Rosie in your arms, that silence felt different—more peaceful, fuller. You hummed softly, rocking back and forth as Rosie’s breathing became steadier.

A melody drifted from your lips, a lullaby that Joel had once hummed to you on restless nights:

"Hush now, my darling, close your eyes,

The world is waiting, but not tonight."

Your voice trembled at the end, a lump forming in your throat as you pictured Joel. You imagined him here, sitting beside you, watching Rosie with that rare, soft smile he reserved for moments when his guard was down. He would hold her, kiss her tiny forehead, and tell you everything was going to be alright.

But as you sang, the warmth of Rosie’s little body against yours made you feel stronger than you thought you could be. She was the piece of Joel you held onto, the reminder of the life you were fighting to build, even if he wasn’t here now. You kissed her head, breathing in her soft baby scent, as you whispered the last words of the song:

"Sleep now, my love, you're safe in my arms,

One day you'll see all the world’s gleams.

But for today's, it's just you and me,

And we’ll wait for him, just wait and see."

Tears pricked your eyes, but this time, there was a sense of peace. You had your daughter, and she had you. For now, that was enough.

You rocked Rosie gently, her tiny body sinking deeper into sleep with each passing minute. Her soft breathing was steady, and her hand had finally relaxed its grip on your shirt. Carefully, you rose from the rocking chair, cradling her to your chest as you walked across the room to her crib.

“There you are, baby girl,” you whispered as you placed her down, tucking a blanket around her small form. Her chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm, her little face serene in the dim light of the room. For a moment, everything felt calm, as though the world outside didn't exist.

Just as you turned, a quiet knock came from the open door. You spun around to see Tommy standing there, a small smile on his face.

"Hey," he whispered, but the sound was still too loud in the quiet room.

You held a finger to your lips, motioning toward the crib. "Shh, Rosie just fell asleep," you murmured, stepping toward him.

Tommy nodded, lowering his voice further. “Sorry ‘bout that. I was just checkin’ in…”

Before you could respond, you noticed someone, standing behind Tommy, half-hidden by the doorframe. You blinked, your breath catching in your throat, your heart pounding in your ears.

It was Joel.

Your mind struggled to process the sight of him, standing there, looking worn and weary but alive. The moment stretched out as if time had slowed. His eyes, filled with an intensity you hadn’t seen in months, locked onto yours. It was as though the entire world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Ellie was there too, just behind him. Her gaze seemed lost and weary.

Joel took a step forward, his eyes never leaving yours, but before he could come closer, you found yourself speaking, your voice sharp and surprising even to yourself.

“No.”

He stopped, his expression shifting from relief to confusion. Ellie, standing behind him, looked just as surprised, her eyes wide, and the exhaustion in her posture deepened. The room felt tense, charged with emotions you weren’t ready to face.

“No?” Joel repeated softly, his brows furrowing, unsure of how to respond.

You shook your head, taking a shaky breath. “You left,” you whispered, feeling the weight of months of fear, anger, and hurt bubbling to the surface.

Joel took another cautious step forward, his eyes never leaving yours, searching for any sign of rejection. When he saw none, he closed the distance between you in an instant, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame. The familiar warmth of his embrace washed over you, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

You buried your face in his chest, the weight of everything finally crashing down. His heartbeat was strong and steady, grounding you in a way you had been desperately missing. Joel’s arms tightened around you as if he were afraid to let go, his grip protective, comforting. He pressed his face against the top of your head, exhaling a shaky breath.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered against his chest, your voice breaking. The tears came then, spilling over as months of fear, anger, and loneliness poured out of you all at once. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with guilt. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Tags 💌: @jasminedragoon @orcasoul @missladym1981 @hiroikegawa @eleganthottubfun @lumpypoll @cuteanimalmama @thespookywookies @goodvibesonly421 @karaslqve @greenwitchfromthewoods @somedayheaven @bambisweethearts @joelsteinfeld @guelyury @biapascal @picketniffler @mrsyixingunicorn10 @httpvomitello @kulekehe @callmecath1 @persephone-girl @colmiillo

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sugurufic · 10 months ago

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Nanami-Sensei (Nanami X F!Reader)

Summary: Your husband isn't that much of a grump, it seems. Especially when it comes to his favourite people; you and your "children".

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: reader is very motherly and is mentioned to be sunshine-y, other than that it's just fluff

masterlist

“Nanamin!” Yuji’s voice rang out in the empty classroom, bringing a smile to your face. Your husband let out an exhausted sigh, but the little smile on his face told you otherwise. Yuji was Haibara with pink hair, his sunny personality almost contagious. You figured your husband has a type of people he lets close - and it's most definitely the sunshine people, like yourself.

“What is it, Itadori-kun?” Kento asks in his deadpan.

“I saw these in the market and thought you might like them!” the pink haired boy said, holding up a small paper bag. “I bought some for you too, Nanami-san,”

“Thank you, Yuji,” You say, scooting over on the bench. “Why don’t you sit with us for a while?”

The boy’s eyes sparkle with delight as he accepts your offer, sitting beside you with his hands on the desk. Nanami’s brow is relaxed, and you know he enjoys spending time with Yuji as much as you do. “Nanami-san, won’t you open this?”

The bag smelled amazing, and the little box had some of your favourite doughnuts. You gave one to your husband, one to Yuji and took one for yourself. “How did you know I liked them?” you ask, a bright smile on your face.

Yuji swallows his bite quickly, then says, “Nanamin mentioned it yesterday when we were taking a break after exorcising a curse. We stopped by this shop to get doughnuts,” Yuji says, making Nanami look down quickly.

“Well, why don’t you come home with us?” You offer. “I’ll make us some spicy ramen. Then we can have the rest of the doughnuts for dessert.”

“We can pick some mochi up on our way home too,” Nanami says.

Yuji’s eyes sparkle, he is so full of life - your heart cries out for him - why did fate choose him to be Sukuna’s vessel? Why couldn’t he have been a normal child? You decide not to dwell on these questions, putting your best smile instead, hugging the young boy from his shoulders. He couldn’t yet spend time with his friends, and you wanted to keep his cheerful self for as long as he can. “Don’t think about it too much, Yuji.” You said. “We can watch a movie together.”

“Human Earthworm 4?” He says in a soft voice.

“Itadori-kun, it’s time for you to watch something else,” Nanami sighs.

“We can pick the movie later,” you intervene. “What do you say, Yuji? It will be a nice break for you to leave Jujutsu Tech for a bit,”

“Gojo-Sensei -” Yuji starts.

“He won’t say anything,” You assure him.

“Okay, Nanami-san!” He says, the bright smile returning to his face. “I’ll go see Gojo-Sensei once, then we can go!”

Yuji runs at an alarming speed, leaving you with a chuckle. “Isn’t he a lovely child?” you murmur to your husband.

“Indeed,” He says with a sigh, caressing your hand with his thumb. “He might be your son with how much energy and joy he has,”

“Well, he wouldn’t be just my son then.” You say with a coy smile. “And I think, that you might just have a type of favourite people,”

“People who are similar to you, my love,” He agrees. “But you will always be my favourite of them all.”

“I better be,” you giggle. “I am your wife, after all.”

It is adorable the way your husband has taken the child under his wing, acting as his mentor and protector - it makes you wonder how he would be with your own kids, loving and protecting them from the world. It makes you long for a normal life, where you could raise your kids without the permanent threat over them. The world you belong to is too dangerous for children.

“Nanamin! Nanami-san!” Yuji’s cheerful voice is back again, saving you from the dark thoughts forming in your head. He has a bright smile on his face and a backpack with him, ready to leave. “I’m ready!”

“Let’s go then,” You get up from your place, and wrap one hand around your husband’s hand and the other one hold’s Yuji’s arm. “A warm dinner is waiting for us back home,”

Nanami settles, with a sigh as Yuji begins to play Human Earthworm 4 on the television, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed between the two of you. You cannot help but think of Yuji as your child, even though you are too young to be his parents. He’s wonderful company to have around - helping you lift up your spirits with his contagious laugh and in general helping you in the kitchen as your husband took the laundry. Yuji is so animated, excitedly filling you in with the previous parts of the movie, doughnut box on his lap.

Hidden from Yuji’s eyes, Nanami has a rare, charming smile on his face as he watches the two suns of his life get close to each other. How you tousle the boy’s pink hair as if he’s your younger self, indulging in his gossip about everyone from school, about how his Gojo-Sensei has been teaching him, about how he misses Megumi and Nobora and wishes he can talk to them again.

Your eyes meet his behind Yuji, and you share a smile, a smile reserved for you two only. Yuji stills for a bit as the movie progresses and you take that time to set up the guest room for him - comforters, pillows, and toiletries. You know that inviting Sukuna’s vessel over to your home is dangerous, and you wonder why the King of Curses had to pick this sunshine in human-form of a child as his vessel.

“Nanami-san,” Yuji whispers, tiptoeing into the guest room. “Nanamin has fallen asleep,”

“Oh?” You say with a grin. “I told him he should take a nap, but my husband just never listens. Come on, let’s get him a blanket.”

“Don’t you want to wake him up?” Yuji asks, confused. Wouldn’t it be better if he got into bed to sleep?

“He didn’t sleep last night,” You admit, fetching an extra blanket from the guest room’s closet. “He got up early to see you,”

Yuji’s face turns as pink as his hair, beginning to apologise, but you stop him. “My husband cares deeply for you, Yuji. Even though he doesn’t show it.” You say. “And I absolutely stand with him on the matter.”

“Nanami-san,” Yuji bows deeply in front of you, muttering words of gratitude and thanks and apologies for being a bother.

“Yuji, you’re just a child,” You say. “Don’t bother yourself with these worries. Now, let’s get a blanket for your Nanamin before he wakes up from the chill.”

You tuck your husband in on the sofa for the night, kissing his forehead before getting ready for bed. You’re in the kitchen getting some water when Yuji follows you too, sitting on the counter.

“Nanami-san, how did you and Nanamin meet?” He quietly asks, a rare moment of stillness from him.

“Oh, we met at Jujutsu Tech,” you say. “I made friends with Kento’s friend, and then we hung out together…” You are lost in thought of your youth, with Yu, Kento and your senpais. Suddenly, it’s Haibara Yu in front of you, telling you how he loves to eat, and would love a woman who loves to eat. You’re with Kento, comforting him after Haibara’s death, hugging him close as he cries on your shoulder. You’re with Shoko as she is told of Geto’s defection, and how he killed 112 villagers, including his parents. You’re the one Gojo reaches out to when Tsumiki gets her first period, panicking because he doesn’t know what to do as Megumi freaks out.

Then you’re back with Kento, as he tells you he is leaving the Jujutsu sorcery, because he cannot take it anymore. You’re right there with him, applying for a job in the corporate world because you fear if you stay a sorcerer too long, you might join Geto. No wonder they couldn’t catch him for years - you had helped him hide. No matter how much Kento believed in protecting the youth, protecting the defenceless, he couldn’t hate Geto, because he understood.

You are brought back to the present, at the sound of Yuji calling your name, and smile at him. “I was new there, and Haibara made friends with me,” You continue. “He wasn’t too different from you, so full of life. He was friends with Kento, and I started being friends with him too. Gojo would always pick on him for being an introvert, and I'd always tease him too. Then we joined corporate, and got even closer… and well, here we are.”

“Did Nanamin ask you out?” He asks, excitement returning to his eyes again.

“He did,” you say, recalling the big bouquet you had at your desk on a random Tuesday morning, signed by Kento. “He had to be thrown a lot of signs before he realised that I like him too.”

“He seems so closed off,” Yuji notes.

“He takes time to understand,” you admit. “All that toughness but he is a softie,” getting too lost in your thoughts, you decide it’s time to make some calming tea. You set the water to boil while Yuji brings out two cups while you mix up your tea and some herbs with a sugar cube.

“What do you love the most about him, Nanami-san?” Yuji asks.

You pour out the tea into the cups, taking a long sip before answering, “His heart,” you cannot help but smile at the thought of your husband. “He’s so kind, so patient. He’s just so… I love him,” you say with a delighted sigh. “He’s perfect,”

“I wish I can be like Nanamin,” Yuji says.

“You already are a great young man,” You are quick to reassure him. “Don’t change too much, Yuji.”

There’s a quiet knock on the door, and you quickly shift into high alert mode. Being a Jujutsu sorcerer came with his problems - namely enemies showing up unannounced. You reach for your cursed tool as you get to the door, looking at the door camera, relaxing and then panicking on seeing Ino Takuma. You quickly open the door with minimal noise and signal your finger to your mouth.

You give him a once over to see if he is injured, worry laced over your face. Once sure that he seems okay, you escort him back into the kitchen, locking the door after him. Ino smiles seeing a sleeping Nanami, his grin only widening on seeing Yuji. “Itadori,” he greets in a whisper.

“Yo! Ino-senpai,” Yuji 's eyes widened, his boy-ish face making your heart ache with love for him. He’s just a boy, thrust into the middle of everything.

You set the kettle to the stove again, as Ino helps himself to some cookies from the shelf. Now with a hot cup of tea in each pair of hands, you tiptoe to the guest room, careful to not disturb your husband’s slumber. Heavens know that he deserves it.

“Takuma-chan, what brings you here tonight?” You ask, sitting on the only chair in the room while Ino and Yuji sit on the bed.

“I was fighting a curse, it seemed a bit stronger than grade 2.” He says. “It was close by. I didn’t have the strength to return home and stopped by.”

Yuji’s curious eyes fly between the two of you, wondering if he will ever feel free enough to show up uninvited. “Takuma was Kento’s first student,” you tell a confused Yuji. “He was there when my boyfriend turned to my fiancé.”

Your mind flies back to a happier time, about three years ago when Kento and you had planned a date to a fancy place but you two dragged Ino with you, he’d just successfully completed his solo first mission and you wanted to celebrate. But the restaurant didn’t know that - and hence you got a surprise pastry with a ring box on it, with your first ever child witnessing your pure joy.

“Nanami was not very delighted by me being there,” Ino notes.

“Tch, Takuma-chan I thought you knew him better,” You pout.

“He always acts like a grump,” Ino says, making you and Yuji chuckle.

Your first child with your latest, you think, smiling at the two of them. Your husband does have a specific type for people who he lets get close to him - people like you - who are insufferable sunshine, pushing into his grumpy space with your bright smiles and twinkling eyes that he can't help but want to protect.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami fluff

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 10 months ago

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Pairing : Dad!Lee Minho x F!Reader TW : pregnant reader ; one child ; just fluff ; the fluffiest fluff ; Word Count : 2.3k Request : Anonny : Can we have more dad lee know 🥹 after the newest skz family ep dad lee know has taken over me A/N : Gonna make this in headcanon mode so that I can give multiple examples, I can't focus on just one. The Minho brainrot has gotten to me!

Dad Lee Know who announced your pregnancy through bubble and took an hour and half a bag of kitty treats just to line Soonie, Doongie, and Dori up around your positive pregnancy test. The only caption was “I’ve been promoted from cat dad to real dad.”

Dad Lee Know who keeps the pregnancy tracker app on his phone because he wants you to have enough storage on your phone to take constant pictures of belly updates. He sends you a text every time a week passes letting you know what the baby is the size of. Your favorite text was probably the random “BASEBALL!!!” text, it took you a good five minutes to understand what it meant since he didn’t elaborate.

Dad Lee Know who comes home from work every day and gives your belly kisses, telling his little baseball sized baby that he missed them dearly. He says it’s so that they get used to hearing it already and they’ll know what it means when they come out.

Dad Lee Know who plans his entire schedule around your doctors appointments, making sure that he’s able to make it to each and every one of them. He and Chan almost got into a fight because Chan accidentally said the wrong date for practice. He even wrote the appointment dates on the staff calendar so they knew not to schedule anything for those days.

Dad Lee Know who had playfully made a bet with the guys about the gender of his child. He said he had thought it was, and he had wanted a boy, but when it was revealed that he was having a daughter he had cried tears of joy and excitedly wrote in the group chat that he’d give the guys the money he owed them for the bet after he took you out to eat.

Dad Lee Know who started decorating the nursery for his daughter the day after the appointment, declaring that the nursery would be fit for a princess… And then proudly stating that his daughter is a princess already. She was going to be spoiled beyond belief.

Dad Lee Know who had bought a heart doppler just so that he could lay in bed at night beside you with his headphones on listening to the sound of his daughter's rapid heartbeat. (He had also googled on the first night if it was normal for a baby's heartbeat to be almost 170bpm in the womb… It is normal.)

Dad Lee Know who took paternity leave 3 weeks before your due date because he had read that by that time the baby could come at any point and he didn’t want to take any chances of missing the moment.

Dad Lee Know who put on a strong face when your water broke while you both were out shopping for more baby clothes. On the inside he was freaking out, but he was staying calm for you.

Dad Lee Know who held your hand on the ride to the hospital, tears already pricking his eyes knowing that his baby girl would soon enter this world and he’d be able to hold her.

Dad Lee Know who freaked out a little bit (a lot) when he saw his daughter's head crowning, he was about to faint, so he opted to stay up close to your head through the rest of the delivery because he wanted to be conscious when she fully came out.

Dad Lee Know who told you that you were doing amazing and how proud he was of you even though you were being so mean during the delivery. He understood though, it looked like it hurted a lot. He was so proud to call you his wife.

Dad Lee Know who’s hand was shaking as he cut the umbilical cord, his breath was held, but that was the moment that he truly felt like a dad, like a father. He finally let the breath out when the cord was cut.

Dad Lee Know who cried harder than you when he heard his daughter’s first cries.

Dad Lee Know who begged you to let him hold her first, and you were honestly so tired that you didn’t even have the energy to say no.

Dad Lee Know who almost filled up his phone storage completely on his daughter's first day on earth because he couldn’t stop taking pictures of her. She was so beautiful, he had hearts in his eyes the moment he laid them on her. She was precious to him and he let the world know it.

Dad Lee Know who sent a picture of her to the group chat with the caption “I made this! So did Y/N, but look at her! Look what we made!” In that moment he had created a team of uncles that would promise to protect her just as much as Minho would.

Dad Lee Know who woke up every night with his daughter because he didn’t want to miss a moment with her. He also knew that you needed your sleep, you had done all of the hard work, the least he could do is let you get some rest.

Dad Lee Know who introduced his daughter to his cats as their new sister. “She’s not old enough to play yet, so be nice. You can look, but don’t touch. Okay?” It seemed like they understood him though, they would sit around her swing and stare at her, almost like they were guarding her or watching out for her, and they would only move away when you or Minho picked her up.

Dad Lee Know who would get slightly sad when you would breastfeed his daughter because it was one of the things he couldn’t do. He surprised you with a breast pump because he wanted her to know he could give the milk too, just… In bottle form.

Dad Lee Know who immediately felt guilty about the breast pump because it looked painful and he didn’t want you to be sore. The only time you did it now was when you knew you were going out and you wanted to have the milk ready.

Dad Lee Know who almost threw up the first time he changed her diaper. After he was done it looked like he had lost about 20 years which was hysterical to you. All of the guys heard about it and they clowned him for it for a good bit.

Dad Lee Know who cried his eyes out the night before his paternity leave was over. He didn’t want to go back to work, he didn’t want to spend a single moment away from you or his daughter, the thought that he might miss something was devastating to him.

Dad Lee Know who had attempted to sneak his daughter to work with him in the baby wrap carrier, and then crying even more when you caught him and told him he couldn’t, at least not until she was a couple months older.

Dad Lee Know who refused to believe that his daughter was already five months old when the day came around. He was a softie and he didn’t like to think that his baby girl was growing already, he wanted her to stay little forever.

Dad Lee Knowwho brought home a “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament when he came home from work and then proceeded to cry his eyes out because “where did the time go? Tell her to stop growing.”

Dad Lee Know who went all out for her first birthday party which he wanted to be princess themed because, alas, she was his princess. He took pictures and videos all day, and then that night when she was fast asleep, he laid in bed beside you, choked up and sniffling as he told you that he felt like he was missing too much of her life because of his job.

Dad Lee Know who had been the one to see her take her first steps and jokingly flaunted that you had missed it… But then quickly apologized when he saw that it upset you and pulled out his phone because he had managed to record it. The group chat also got the video, they were constantly in the loop about everything that she did.

Dad Lee Know who demanded that you and his daughter be allowed to go on tour with him and the guys, and then giving management the ultimatum that it was the three of you, or none of you at all. That was his daughter's first plane trip.

Dad Lee Know who death stared at anyone that even looked slightly annoyed when your daughter got a little cranky on the plane. He kept her on his lap the whole time and bounced her and sang to her so that you’d have a comfortable flight.

Dad Lee Know who talked only about you and his daughter when he had the chance to during concerts. If fans had a problem with it, he didn’t really care. You and his baby were the most important things in his life right now, and you always would be. If the fans didn’t like hearing about it, they could leave.

Dad Lee Know who personally wrote a song about you and his daughter, and with the help of Chan, Changbin, and Jisung, he was able to have it finished just in time for your anniversary.

Dad Lee Know who woke up every morning to make breakfast for his daughter and pack her lunch when she was old enough to go to school.

Dad Lee Know who was the only father crying in a sea of mothers (including you) when it was her first day of kindergarten. He didn’t want to let go of her hand, and you had to practically pry his fingers off.

Dad Lee Know who took an entire day off work that day just so he could cuddle up with you and cry to you about how empty and quiet the house felt without her there.

Dad Lee Know who was the first parent up at the school every single day, waiting a whole hour out on the bench in front of her classroom door with a snack and a brand new stuffed animal. That’s how her stuffed animal collection began.

Dad Lee Know who would sit on the floor next to his daughter's bed and read her bedtime stories, acting out parts of the stories with her stuffed animals because he knew it made her smile.

Dad Lee Know who fell asleep one night in the middle of reading the bedtime stories, his head resting on the edge of his daughters mattress, and when he woke up she was sitting on his lap and sleeping as well. He didn’t move that night and he didn’t mind the backache that came along with sleeping that way either.

Dad Lee Know who was the loudest person in the crowd when his daughter walked across the stage for her little award for perfect grades. “THAT'S MY BABY! YES! DADDY IS SO PROUD OF YOU PRINCESS!”

Dad Lee Know who stayed up all night to help his 6th grade daughter with her science fair project, even after she headed off to bed, he continued to work on it just to make sure she got first place.

Dad Lee Know who about lost his shit when she got second place, you and his daughter had to usher him out of the gymnasium where everything was set up so that he wouldn’t embarrass her.

Dad Lee Know who took you and his daughter out to dinner after the science fair mishap and told his daughter that “it doesn't matter whether you got second place or first place, you’ll always be number one to me. You’re the smartest girl I know and I’m so proud of you.”

Dad Lee Know who would help his daughter with her homework every night, even if he spent all day practicing or recording, he was never too tired to help her.

Dad Lee Know who would still tuck his daughter in at night and make sure her closet was shut and her night light was on when she would fall asleep no matter how old she got.

Dad Lee Know who got choked up when his daughter graduated high school, his voice cracking when she walked across the stage and hiding his face in your shoulder so that no one would see him crying.

Dad Lee Knowwho you had to give a speech to when his daughter said that she wanted to bring her boyfriend over to meet you and Minho. “Don’t look at him like you want to kill him, Minho.” “But what if I want to kill him? He’s trying to take my baby girl away.” “Baby, she’s 19…” “Blah blah blah I don’t want to hear it! She’s a baby!”

Dad Lee Know who threw a massive party when his daughter got accepted into SNU. He tried to uninvite his daughter’s boyfriend, but she insisted that he come or she wouldn’t show up.

Dad Lee Know who taught his daughter to drive. He was terrified, and she almost crashed into the curb, but he told her she was doing a great job regardless so that he didn’t break her spirits.

Dad Lee Know who would do anything for his daughter, she is his entire life, his whole world. He loved her with his entire heart. He’s the best father in the universe, he would lay down his life for her, he would give up everything for her. She’s the greatest thing to ever happen to him, and watching her grow has been bittersweet, sad but rewarding. He wanted nothing but the best for her, and he’d make sure that no matter how old he got, or how old she got, he’d always be there for her.

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