#casually spills guts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

milesmoralesluvs · 16 days ago

Text

Every breath you take (I'll be watching you) - Ekko x reader

(Ekko POV)

wc: 4k

ekko travels to another timeline. he experiences a glimpse of what could've been. maybe in another life.

warnings: angst

Ekko knew he was somewhere he was not supposed to be. He was in Zaun, but...he was not. This Zaun was something that looked like it came out a fairytale. It was not drowned in the chaos of the undercity. It was not darkened by the gloomy fog that existed ever since he came into this world, haunting him every day. He was not in Zaun. Of this, he was certain.

Because how else would you explain the sight in front of him? In front of his eyes stood six figures from his miserable past. Benzo, Vander, Mylo, Claggor, Powder and…you. But it wasn't possible. The former four were dead. Powder was no longer Powder, but Jinx and you..

You were his biggest mistake. His biggest regret. His biggest what if? He loathed you and loved you all the same. His enemy and his greatest love.

You looked wrong. God, you looked so right. You were smiling. He could see your pearly white teeth. He could see the crinkle of your eyes. He could hear the melodic tune of your laughter. You were happy and bright, not at all like the girl he knew, the one he fought tooth and nail to kill in his timeline. You were beautiful. You had always been but there was a special spark in your eyes now. The one he wanted to capture a picture of and etch it deep in his heart. The one he hoped would never leave you.

He snapped out of his daze once he noticed your eyes on him. Your eyes seemed awaiting. You had asked him something. He rubbed his neck a little sheepishly. “What were we talking about again?”

You chewed at the straw of the drink Vander had poured you. Ekko watched you.

"Your competition. It’s in two days.”

Ekko blinked, trying to hide his confusion. “R-right. The competition.” He cleared his throat, racking his brain for what possible ‘competition’ his other self couldve signed up for. He prayed you wouldn't ask for progress updates.

You blew air through the straw, watching it bubble at the drink. Ekko watched you.

“You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, trying to hide the tension in his voice. He had no idea what the competition was for. He’d have to play along till he finds out. “You coming to watch?” he asked, trying to hide his nervousness as he eyed you.

You plopped your head at the bar table and turned to face him with a cheeky grin. “Course. I’d be a shitty girlfriend if I didn’t.”

Ekko’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn't expected that—girlfriend. This other version of himself had everything. His friends, his home, you. He swallowed, shoving aside the mixture of feelings swirling in his chest. “You’re not shitty,” he mumbled. ‘You’re perfect.”

You smiled softly as you weakly punched him. ‘I was joking.”

He playfully winced at the hit, but a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I know, I know.”

Ekko reached out to grab your hand, idly running his thumb along the back of it. His eyes darted around, taking in everything about you– your smile, your every gesture, your laugh, your eyes. He hadn’t expected to feel so jealous of his doppelganger.

You noticed his dazed state and gently gripped his hands. “You alright babe?”

Ekko paused for a moment, the weight of the question hanging in the air. He wanted to tell you everything. He wanted to spill out his guts to you. He was in the wrong timeline. This was not his world. He was not your Ekko. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to say it.

He settled for a forced smile. “Yeah. Just nervous about the competition, I guess,”

You pulled yourself up and grasped at the straw, delicately placed it in your mouth. Ekko watched you. “No way. You and Powder have been working on it for months. You’re gonna crush it,”

There. That feeling again–that pang of jealousy mixed with guilt at the mention of ‘Powder’ that spilled so casually from your lips. He had lost that chance to know her in his world. Here, she was a shining memory, not the monster he knew.

Ekko forced a nod, trying to hide the way his jaw tensed. ‘Yeah,” he muttered. ‘I know. I just..I don't want to disappoint you, y’know?”

You smiled at him softly. “You know you could never do that.”

Those words hit harder than he expected, a pang of longing in his chest. This other version of himself had everything he’d ever wanted, everything that had been stolen from him. He swallowed, fighting back the tightness in his throat.

“Yeah. I know.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, letting the moment linger between them. For a brief moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to stay in this timeline, to forget about everything else and just… be.

Ekko took a deep breath as you turned to continue conversation with Mylo, Claggor and Powder, finally allowing him to truly take in what's around him. Old memories flashed through his mind. Powder was smiling, blissfully innocent, like the timeline itself was protecting her from becoming Jinx. Mylo looked less brooding, and Claggor stood beside him with a smile.

It was strange, seeing them like this. They were so young, so carefree—the opposite of how he’d seen them last.

Vander handed out drinks, a fatherly smile on his face. It was odd, seeing him alive and well, like the past hadn’t chewed him up and spat him out. Benzo sat next to him, chuckling away at something. Ekko doesn't know how he doesn't burst into tears every time from the sight of him.

He was still waiting for somebody to slap him out of his daydream. They were all alive. Powder was innocent. You were at his side. This world… it was like a sick twist of fate, dangling everything he’d lost right in front of him, then snatching it away. It was a bittersweet reminder of all the friends and family he had lost in his own timeline.

He accepted the drink with a nod of thanks, taking a sip as he half-listened to the conversation around them. Ekko couldn’t help but observe how at ease everyone seemed. There was none of the tension or the edge that came from surviving on the streets of Zaun. They were safe. They were happy.

Ekko found himself getting lost in your laughter, the sound melodic and full of genuine joy. It made him ache. The more he saw of this life that wasn’t his, the more he wanted it.

Claggor nudged Ekko to snap him out of his daydream. “Oi. Quit that loverboy.”

Ekko snapped out of his dazed staring, a flush of embarrassment creeping onto his cheeks. He had been caught—staring at you like a lovesick puppy. Claggor’s comment made the others chuckle, including you, and Ekko couldn't help but admire how magical you looked at every moment.

“Shut up,” Ekko muttered, shoving Claggor lightly. “I can look at my girlfriend if I want to.”

You chuckled at Claggor and beamed at him and Ekko felt his heart skip a beat, the happiness in your smile hitting him like a punch to the gut. He smiled back, though his was tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Every moment he spent here, every smile and laugh from you, felt like a taunt. This world wasn’t meant for him. He was an intruder, someone who didn’t belong. Yet, he couldn’t help but wish he could stay in this world forever, surrounded by friends and with you in his life.

The night sky appeared, and Powder sneakily tweaked the the speaker to play some tunes that Vander deemed ‘not age appropriate’. As he tried to figure how to ‘turn that darned thing off’, Powder, with the knowledge he would not be able to do so, pulled Claggor and Mylo to the dance floor and moved with the music, laughing and giggling at the horrid moves Claggor was exhibiting and the pathetic attempt of flirting Mylo was once again torturing the poor waitress with.

He watched them, his mind a swirling mess of emotions. This world… it was everything he had ever wanted, yet so far out of reach.

He took a long swig of his drink, trying to drown out the ache in his chest. If he looked at you any longer, he was going to do something he knew he’d regret—something like stealing you away from this perfect world and bringing you into his messed-up one.

Soon after, you stood up and extended your hand towards him, bowing slightly, with a grin on your face, “Care to indulge me, my good sir?”

He looked down at your outstretched hand, warring emotions in his eyes. Part of him wanted to take it, to let himself get lost in the dance with you. The other part knew it would only make the inevitable hurt worse.

But looking into your eyes, seeing the happiness and the innocence there, he couldn’t resist the pull.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, standing up. “I’d love to.”

Powder noticed movement from the corner of her eye and swiftly rushed to the speaker where Vander was still fixing it or rather just yelled and hoped it listened. Powder ignored Vander's protests and changed the song to one of a slow dance and grinned to herself. She held up her fist expectantly, and Vander watched your figure dragging Ekko to the floor and smiled slightly as he formed a fist of his own and bumped it against hers. Pinching her cheek soon after.

Ekko followed you to the dance floor, allowing himself to be led by your hand. As you reached the center, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against him. He was acutely aware of how right it felt to have you this close, your body pressed against his.

He moved with the music, though it was clear he was a little clumsy compared to this body’s natural rhythm.

Despite it all, Ekko found himself grinning, laughing as you both stumbled through the dance together. It was far from elegant, both of you occasionally tripping over each other's feet or losing the beat.

Yet, in that moment, none of it mattered. It was the most fun he'd had in a long time. He was dancing with you, holding you close, and just for that single moment, all his worries seemed to fade away.

Once the song ended, Ekko suggested leaving the crowded dance floor. The noise and the dancing had become too much for him, and he needed a moment to clear his head.

He led you up to the rooftop, the cool night air a gentle breeze against your faces. The view from up here was breathtaking, the city lights below like a sea of stars against the darkened city.

You smiled as you interlocked your hand with his, recalling a fond memory. “Remember Ekko? Here's where you confessed. Here's where I became your girlfriend 5 years ago.”

He chuckled, a fond yet bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “How could I forget?”

Here was where, in this timeline, this version of himself had confessed his feelings for you. He could imagine it—the nervous energy, the hope in his heart, the pounding of his own heart in his ears. But that wasn’t him. Those memories, those moments—they belonged to the Ekko of this timeline. Not him.

He tried to ignore the pang of jealousy in his chest as he looked at you.

“It was sunny. So bright. Like the sun had come out just for us.”

He closed his eyes, picturing the scene. Sun rays streaming down, a soft, gentle breeze, and a clear sky overhead. A perfect day, a perfect moment.

He could see it in his mind's eye—the other Ekko, confessing his feelings to you here under the sun's warm glow. The jealousy clawed at his heart once more.

"Yeah.”

You gently pulled him forward to seat yourselves at the edge of the roof. Ekko watched the city lights below, making the buildings look surreal and dream-like. He leaned back, the cool night air a soft caress against his skin.

His mind was still a tangled mess of thoughts, his feelings for you and his guilt for being here mixing in a confusing jumble. But sitting here, this close to you, he couldn’t force himself to pull away.

You watched the city life below, dangling your feet, making it hit the wall back and forth. You don't look up as you ask, “You're not my Ekko, are you?”

Ekko's heart dropped, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He closed his eyes, his breath catching in his chest. He had tried so hard to keep it a secret, to pretend like everything was fine.

But you had seen through him. You knew.

He didn't say anything for a moment, the silence between you hanging heavy. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "No. I'm not.”

You don't look up from where you watched your feet dance in the air. The silence hung heavy between you both, each in your own thoughts. Ekko's mind whirled, his heart aching at the fact that you had figured him out. He had wanted to keep pretending, to enjoy this one moment for just a bit longer.

He swallowed, his fingers clenching and unclenching where they rested against the rooftop. "How did you know?"

“It was raining the day you confessed to me.”

Ekko's heart clenched at the words. It was a small, seemingly insignificant detail, but it was enough to give him away. He hadn't even noticed that, amidst the tangle of feelings and memories he was trying to keep straight. Well, memories that weren't even his. He looked down at his hands, his fingers clenching tighter against the edge of the rooftop. He felt exposed, naked in a way that he didn’t like.

"Yeah," he finally whispered. "It was.”

You gripped at the floor where your hands were resting and Ekko could see the hesitation in your face as you asked a question.

“Who are you then?”

He paused, debating on what to say. He could lie, make up some convoluted story. But looking at you, seeing the curiosity in your eyes, he knew it would be a pointless lie. So, he took a deep breath, and for the first time, he confessed the truth.

"I'm Ekko. Just not the one you know. I'm from a different timeline. A different Zaun.”

Your eyes widened as realisation sunk in. “Parallel realities. They're…real.”

He nodded, the reality of it still sinking in for him. Parallel realities, alternate timelines. He'd known they existed in theory, but to experience it... it was something else.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "A little hard to believe, right?”

For the first since you sat down and fixed your eyes down, you lifted your eyes to look at him, a soft smile gracing your face. “Not really. I'm looking at it.”

He chuckled at that, a small laugh of disbelief. Here you were, accepting the impossible so easily, while he was still struggling to wrap his mind around it.

He looked at you, that soft smile on your face, and his heart ached. Everything about this world was so perfect, so right. And here he was, an intruder from another timeline.

‘You know me in your world then?,” you asked, fiddling with your fingers.

He nodded, his eyes looking out at the city below again. He imagined his own Zaun, so different from this one. The streets were darker, the sky a permanent ashen grey, and you...

He swallowed, forcing down the sudden wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Yeah. I do. You and I… we’re…” he trailed off, unsure how to explain the tangled mess of your relationship in his timeline.

“Are we not on good terms?”

He winced at that, the question making his stomach churn with guilt. In his timeline, things were complicated. "Good" was a generous way to describe it.

He took a moment to find the right words, not wanting to hurt you any more than he already had.

"It’s... complicated. Things between us... they’re messed up in my Zaun. We’re on the worst of terms,” he mumbled. “We... we’ve spent years apart. We haven’t seen each other for a long time. And when we do, it’s always a fight.”

“Oh,” you whispered, tone inexplicably sad.

His heart twisted, seeing the sadness in your expression. It hurt, knowing that he had caused it, even if indirectly.

He reached out, his hand hovering over yours. He wanted to touch you, to offer comfort, but he stopped himself at the last second. He didn’t deserve to give you comfort.

You noticed his hesitance and gently huffed as you took his hand in yours. He sucked in a breath as you took his hands, the simple act sending a shockwave through his body.

Your hands felt warm, small, and familiar against his. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to just feel you, to remember what it was like to touch you like this. He missed it so damn much.

He held your hands tightly, his fingers wrapping around yours. He didn’t want to let go.

You gripped his hand as you posed the question. “Do you…like the me of that world?”

He chuckled at that, the question making his chest ache.

Did he like you? Like was such an inadequate word to describe what he felt. He loved you. He always had. He’d been in love with you since they were kids. Even in his timeline, where things were so messed up. Even there, he still loved you desperately.

“I do,” he admitted quietly. “I like you so much, it hurts."

Ekko watched you bit your lip and stared down at the city sadly as you asked a question you didn't really want the answer to.

“Do I….like you back?”

The question felt like a punch to the gut.

He knew the response he should give, the truth behind the relationship between him and you in his timeline. It was a mess. A complicated, painful mess of feelings. Of love, hate, and betrayal. Of trust broken and hearts shattered.

He swallowed, his hands clenching tighter around yours. The answer was on the tip of his tongue, and he hated himself for saying it.

“No,” he whispered. “You don’t.”

The sadness in your expression, the way your eyes closed to hide the hurt, it was like a knife to his chest. He wanted nothing more than to take it back, to tell you everything was fine, that you loved him too. But he couldn’t. It was the truth, and lying wouldn’t change that.

He looked away, his eyes back on the city lights, the brightness suddenly blurring in his vision. Damn it, he should have never come here.

“Ekko.”

Hearing you say his name, in that soft, gentle voice, made something in him crack. He looked back at you, his eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice quiet and strained.

You turned your gaze from the night life to his eyes as you hesitantly asked, “Do you…want to kiss me?”

The question took him by surprise, jolting through him like an electric shock. He had wanted to kiss you, yes. For years, he’d desired to kiss you, to touch you, to have you closer. He’d dreamt of it, yearned for it, ached for it.

The word was out before he could stop himself.

“Yes.”

So you slowly moved forward and gently placed your lips against his. Time seemed to slow, the world around you fading into a muffled hum. His lips brushed against yours, featherlight at first, testing, savoring. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, warmth spreading from where you touched and radiating outward.

The kiss deepened naturally, an unhurried exploration of emotions he'd kept bottled for too long. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer while your fingers tangled in his locks. It was soft yet searing, a meeting of hearts that spoke in a language words could never capture.

When you finally parted, you rested your forehead against yours, breaths mingling, staring at his eyes, so rich of love and guilt. “You won't be staying, will you?”

The question broke through the fog in his mind, bringing him back to reality. The kiss had been perfect, but it was a lie, a false hope. He knew he couldn’t stay. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

He swallowed, his eyes glued to the ground, unable to meet your gaze.

“No,” he whispered. “I won’t be staying. My Zaun...it needs me.”

You smile sadly as you whispered, “I hope…the me there changes her mind.”

At that, he chuckled bitterly. You, changing your mind? The thought was laughable. He loved you, but even he knew that ship had sailed.

But seeing the sorrow in your expression, the hope in your eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you. He couldn’t snuff out that hope, that last shred of optimism you still had.

“Yeah,” he said, forcing a smile. “I hope she does too.”

You slowly pulled your hand up to caress his face, fingers moving across the soft skin of his flesh. The tenderness of your touch, the way your hand against his cheek, it sent a shiver through him. He closed his eyes, letting himself lean into your hand, to relish that feeling for as long as he could. It soothed the ache in his heart, that constant, aching longing for you.

“You deserve happiness Ekko.”

He placed his hand over yours, gently holding it to his face. “So do you, you deserve the world,” he mumbled.

You smiled sorrowfully as you watched Ekko. “You might not be the Ekko of this world, but you... you still have the same stupid hair. Same stupid eyes. Same...stupid smile. Same stupid heart. You're still my Ekko. I hope you can you can get your happy ending there.”

His breath caught at your words. It was too much. It was everything he'd been aching for, everything he wanted to hear.

He opened his eyes, looking at you, his heart clenching. A part of him wanted to tell you everything. To spill the truth of what the two of you had become in his timeline. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do that to you, not when you were looking at him like that.

He played with your hands, traced hearts on your palm.

"I'll try," he said softly.

You smiled at him and he mirrored your smile, his heart aching. He didn’t want this moment to end, he wanted to just stay here, with you, like this.

But the inevitable was closing in. The longer he stayed, the harder it would be to leave. He needed to go, needed to get back to his timeline before things got worse.

He took a deep breath, steeling his resolve. “I have to go now, don’t I?” he whispered.

Ekko watched as tears welled up in your eyes as you chuckled a sad laugh. “I think so.”

Seeing the tears in your eyes, hearing the acceptance in your voice, it took all his self-control not to pull you closer, to hold you to him. But he forced himself to stay still, even as every part of him wanted to keep you within arm's reach.

He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh. "Yeah," he whispered. "I think so too.”

You suddenly pull him into a hug, wrapping your arms around him and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He closed his eyes, returning the embrace, hugging you tightly against him.

He buried his face against your hair, taking a deep breath, trying to commit this moment to memory. He didn’t know if he’d ever get to hold you like this again.

You place a soft kiss on his cheek. “ I won't ever forget you.”

The feeling of your lips on his cheek, it was too much. He held onto you tighter, like if he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “I won’t forget you either. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

Every instinct in him was screaming to keep holding you, to not let go, but he forced himself to release his hold. He looked at you one last time, taking in your sad smile, before steeling himself and stepping back.

He took another deep breath, his heart heavy with the weight of all the things left unsaid. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye Ekko. Smile some more, hm?"

Ekko felt a mix of emotions well up within him. He wanted to say so much, to tell you not to hope for his happiness, that he wouldn't find it. But the words stuck in his throat.

He managed a strained smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Yeah. Take care of yourself,” he said quietly.

He took one last look at you, the image of you standing there, sad but beautiful, seared into his mind.

With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps growing fainter as he left you there, alone on the rooftop.

You turned your gaze towards the night life of the undercity and huffed a sad sigh as you turned your gazed up at the moon.

Ekko had decided to stop in his tracks and hide behind a wall so he can watch you one last time. The moon illuminated your features beautifully and although the smile on your face was one full of melancholy, Ekko could only find it in himself admire your beauty and mirrored a similar smile of his own.

Ekko watched you. He always had. That's all he can do.

—--- Epilogue

When Ekko returned to his timeline, it felt like he'd stepped into a world of shadows, a dark and menacing realm. The familiar alleys, the broken streets, it all looked so different, so wrong.

He trudged his way back to the Firelights base, his mind still focused on the you he left behind in the other timeline. The feeling of holding you, having you so close, it was like a fresh wound, reopening the aching loneliness within him.

He stood for a moment, to stare at the moon, to remember the image of you staring at the sky mere moments ago when he caught a flash of something from the corner of his eyes. Ekko watched you fall to your death.

Ekko watched you. He always had. That's all he can do.

#ekko x reader #ekko arcane #ekko league of legends #ekko #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #ekko x you #ekko x y/n #ekko lol #arcane x female reader #ekko x fem reader #ekko x female reader

657 notes · View notes

bunny-1111 · 3 months ago

Text

Did I stutter? TN x fem!reader Part 2.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

WARNING: SMUTTTT, Reader discretion (18+) NO MINORSSSSSSS PLS

Authors note: first smut kinda nervous... this is a long one, I hope y'all enjoy <3

Part one here

reblogs, likes and comments appreciated my loves <3

...

What the fuck now, you think, making your way to the common room.

You shake your head, trying to clear the confusion, but it’s useless. Theo’s always been hard to read, kept his cards too close to his chest, but this feels different—like he’s dropped the mask just enough for you to glimpse something darker lurking beneath. Something you’re not sure how to deal with, what the fuck is next, this sudden dominance is not hard to accept but hard to understand.

When you finally return to the common room, Pansy lounges on one of the sofas, flipping through a magazine. She barely looks up when you enter.

“Well? Did he say anything?” she asks, her voice dripping with casual curiosity, but you know her well enough to recognise the gleam of mischief in her eyes.

"How did you even see us having a conversation?" you enquire, brows furrowing

"I saw you walk past, then I saw Theo walk back The opposite way with a tiny but telling smile on his face", she smiles "So tell me, what did he say? Did he ask you to the dance?" she continues.

You toss your bag onto the floor, sinking into the chair opposite her. “No, not exactly,” you mutter, more confused than ever. Your mind still replaying the look Theo gave you, the way he practically claimed you without saying a word.

Pansy arches an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your lack of gossip. “Not exactly? That doesn’t sound like nothing. Come on, spill.”

You bite your lip, hesitating. “He asked if anyone had asked me, and when I said no, he said… ‘Good. Keep it that way.’” The words feel strange in your mouth as if they don’t belong to a casual conversation but something heavier and more serious.

Pansy stares at you for a moment, then her lips curl into a knowing smirk. “Oh, that’s rich. Typical Theo.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Pansy tosses the magazine aside, leaning forward like she’s about to reveal some grand secret. “He’s marking his territory, babe. Telling you not to go with anyone else, without actually having the guts to ask you himself.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words. Could she be right? Was Theo staking some kind of silent claim over you? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, and not entirely out of fear. There’s a part of you—a part you’re not sure you’re ready to admit to—that likes the idea of being claimed by him.

But that doesn’t mean you’re okay with the way he’s going about it.

“So what?” you say, exasperation creeping into your voice. “He’s just going to tell me to wait around for him while he ignores me at the ball?”

Pansy shrugs, unbothered. “Pretty much. That’s how these boys work. They want you, but they’re too proud to ask. So they’ll just… hover.”

You roll your eyes, sinking further into the chair. “I’m not going to just sit here and wait for him to make up his mind.”

Pansy grins, eyes twinkling with something dangerous. “Then don’t. Go with someone else. Let him squirm.”

The idea sounds thrilling, but you know it’s not that simple. Theo’s not the kind of guy you can make squirm. He’s the kind that would shut down any attempt to get under his skin, the kind who would lash out rather than admit any kind of weakness. And yet, the thought of pushing him—of seeing just how far he’ll go to keep you—lights a fire in your chest.

That's what you will do. Push him until he can't hold off any longer.

Toying with Theo was a dangerous game to play, even if you knew that, but if he's just going to sit there and not make anything happen, then, fuck, you need to take matters into your own hands.

Yes, you could just do the normal thing and pull him aside for a conversation, but now, where's the fun in that?

The next day, arriving at charms class, you don't take your usual seat with Theo and your friends. Instead, you skip over and find a place next to Anthony Goldstein, a cute Ravenclaw boy, who you knew would piss Theo off.

"Morning", you smile at Anthony. He looks at you, confused but excited.

"Good morning," he returns, starting what would become a cheerful conversation. As you laugh and talk throughout the class, you quickly glance over at a visibly upset Theodore and a very wide-smiling pansy. She knew what you were doing, and Theodore was catching on, too.

Theo’s eyes are burning holes into the back of your head, and you can feel it. Every time you lean in a little closer to Anthony, let out a laugh that’s just a touch too loud; you know Theo’s watching. It’s exactly what you wanted—his attention, focus, and jealousy. But now that you have it, it’s making your skin prickle in anticipation in a way you hadn’t fully prepared for.

Anthony’s sweet, too sweet. He’s charming, and he’s kind, but he’s not Theo. There’s no edge to him, no danger. And while the conversation flows easily enough, your mind keeps drifting back to the boy brooding in the corner, whose eyes haven’t left you since the class began. You know he’s seething. Good. He should be. He warned you to keep away from any guy who could want something off you, but you weren’t getting enough out of Theo, so he pushed this out of you, you determine.

As the class drags on, you notice the shift in the air. Theo’s presence feels suffocating, almost predatory like he’s just waiting for the right moment to pounce. You can’t help but glance over again, meeting his gaze for just a second—long enough to see the storm brewing behind his eyes. His jaw is clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the desk, and for a second, you think he might snap right there in the middle of class, but he doesn’t. He’s controlled, as always. And that only frustrates you more.

You knew you were aggravating him. You have no idea what the consequences are; you have a feeling brewing in your chest that you would find out sooner than later.

When your professor dismisses the class, you gather your things slowly, lingering by Anthony’s side, pretending not to notice the way Theo’s already standing by the door, waiting for you. Anthony smiles, oblivious, and asks if you’d like to walk to the Great Hall with him. You almost say yes, just to push Theo a little further, but before the words leave your mouth, you feel a hand wrap firmly around your wrist.

You turn to see Theo, his eyes dark and dangerous, staring down at you with a look that makes your heart race.

“We need to talk,” he says, his voice low and commanding.

You don’t even have a chance to respond before he’s tugging you out of the classroom, pulling you through the corridors, a man on a mission. You stumble to keep up, your mind racing to catch up with him, but there’s no mistaking the tension in the air now. He’s pissed. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you wanted.

When he drags you into a broom closet and slams the door behind you, your pulse is pounding in your ears. Theo’s still gripping your wrist, his fingers tight around your skin, and when he finally lets go, your breathe was still held tight, like he was the one who could allow you to exhale

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snaps, his voice cold, but his eyes—God, his eyes are on fire.

You straighten up, refusing to back down. “What do you mean?”

Theo takes a step closer, his chest brushing against yours as he looms over you. “You know exactly what I mean,” he growls. “Sitting with Goldstein. Laughing with him. What was that, huh? Trying to make me jealous?”

You raise an eyebrow, refusing to show how much his proximity affects you. “Is it working?”

His jaw ticks, and for a moment, you think he might lose control. But then he surprises you—he leans in even closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “You want to play games, fine. But you’re playing with fire, sweetheart. And I don’t think you’re ready for what happens next.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. The tension between you is electric, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, the way his body is coiled, ready to snap. You know you’ve pushed him to the edge, but you’re not backing down now. Not when you’ve come this far.

“I think I can handle it,” you challenge, your voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough. It’s enough to break whatever restraint Theo’s been holding onto.

“Are you sure?” he stalks even closer, leaning down to you, his fingers forcing your face up to his all you can do it nod as an unexpected wave of shyness hits you. Your heart drops when you hear a gentle but quick knock on the door, please, you think no one interrupts what might just finally happen. You both look at the twisting door knob, silence falls.

“Hey, it everything ok in here? It’s Anthony” your heart drops, Theo might spiral.

His hands loop around you, pushing you behind him, opening the door, “Everything's just fine. You don’t go following girls into broom closets all the time, do you? Shes with me. Now fuck far off,” Theo replied, slamming the door in his face.

You hear his footsteps quickly rush off

He flicks the lock of the door so quickly, so quick to kiss you that anything you feel melts away, in an instant, his hands are on you, gripping your waist, pulling you against him with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs. His lips crash against yours, rough and demanding, like he’s finally letting go of everything he’s been holding back. You don’t even have time to think before you kiss him back, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, harder, deeper.

It’s all heat and intensity, a wild storm brewing for far too long. Theo’s hands roam over your body, possessive and hungry, like he’s claiming every inch of you as his, his lips never leaving yours as his hands work quickly, almost frantically, to tug at the hem of your shirt. You gasp as his fingers brush against your skin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Theo pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and hooded with desire.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice thick with possessiveness.

You nod, breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m yours.”

That’s all he needs to hear. In one swift motion, he lifts you onto a surface, everything happening so fast you dont even know what he’s sat you on; all you can focus on is his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher as he moves between your legs. His lips are on your neck now, kissing, biting, leaving marks that you know will be there tomorrow.

Your hands fumble with his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. When you finally get it off, you run your hands over the hard planes of his chest, savouring the way his muscles tense under your touch. Theo groans against your neck, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave bruises. But you don’t care. You want more. You need more.

“Theo,” you gasp, arching your back as his lips trail lower, his hands working quickly to undo the buttons of your blouse. He doesn’t waste any time, pulling it off and tossing it aside before his mouth finds your skin again.

He’s everywhere—his hands, lips, teeth—and it’s all too much, not enough. You’re dizzy with it, consumed by him, by the way, he touches you like he’s been starving for it. For you.

He only stops for a second, his lips not far from yours but far enough to speak, “I can’t take you in a broom closet, alright? Let’s go to my dorm; you’ll be more comfortable” he quickly says, almost out of breath.

“Theo” you mutter “You can take me anywhere. Here’s just fine, please, I can’t wait anymore, please, I don’t want to waste another second” you whine, quickly joining your lips together again.

He doesn’t protest; when he finally pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark and heavy with desire. “You’re mine,” he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. “Fuck, no one else gets to touch you. Understand?”

You nod, your heart racing as you reach for him again, pulling him back to you. “Only you.”

And then his lips are on yours again, and there’s no going back this time.

Theo’s mouth crashes against yours with even more intensity, his hands gripping your hips as though he can’t stand the thought of being apart from you for even a second. It’s not just a kiss anymore—it’s a declaration of something raw and primal that neither of you have the strength to fight off any longer.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him against you. You can feel the hard press of his body against yours, and it sends a wave of heat through you so intense it makes your head spin. His hands slide up your thighs, slipping under your skirt, and your breath hitches as his fingers brush over the thin fabric of your underwear. You can feel the smirk on his lips as he pulls back just enough to look at you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice rough, eyes dark with desire as they roam over your flushed face. “All worked up for me, and I’ve barely even touched you.”

You want to come up with some smart reply, something to challenge him, but all that comes out is a soft whimper as his fingers tease the edge of your underwear, barely grazing where you need him most. Your body arches and pulses into his touch, silently begging for more, and Theo’s smirk deepens.

“Patience,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ll give you what you want, but you must tell me what you want.”

Your pride screams at you not to give in, not to let him have that satisfaction, but the ache between your legs is too much. You need him, now. So, you swallow your pride, your voice coming out in a shaky whisper.

“Please, Theo. Please”

“Tsk tsk tsk, please, what? Come on, words, sweet thing,”

“I need you to touch me Teddy, need to feel you” You practically whimper

Your pleading seems to flip a switch in him, and suddenly his teasing stops. His fingers slip under the fabric, brushing against your soaked core, and you gasp, your head falling back as the sensation sends sparks shooting through your body

“Good girl,” he growls, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck as his fingers begin to move in slow, deliberate circles. “So fucking perfect for me.”

Your hands grip his back exposed, your body trembling as his fingers work you over with an expert precision that makes it clear he’s been thinking about this for a long time. You can barely breathe, your mind going fuzzy from the overwhelming pleasure as Theo’s thumb presses against your clit, drawing out a moan that you can’t hold back.

“Look at you,” he mutters, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he watches the way your body reacts to his touch. “Falling apart for me already. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

His words, combined with the relentless pressure of his fingers, send you spiralling closer and closer to the edge, your body tightening with the mounting tension. You can feel it building, coiling in your stomach like a spring ready to snap, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you fall over the edge.

Theo must sense it too, because his pace quickens, his fingers moving faster, harder, and his lips find yours again, swallowing your moans as you cling to him. Your entire body is on fire, the pleasure so intense it feels like you might break apart at any second, and then, finally, you do.

The it hits you like a wave, crashing over you with a force that steals the breath from your lungs. You cry out, your nails digging into Theo’s shoulders as your body trembles beneath him, completely lost in the sensation. Theo doesn’t let up, his fingers continuing their steady rhythm as he helps you ride out every last shudder of pleasure. You can’t help but sink your teeth into his shoulder.

By the time it finally fades, you’re left panting, your body limp and spent as you rest against the desk, your forehead pressed against Theo’s shoulder. He’s breathing hard too, his chest rising and falling in time with yours, but there’s a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he looks down at you.

“You’re mine,” he repeats, his voice a low growl as he brushes a strand of hair away from your flushed face. “No one else. Ever.”

You nod, still catching your breath, your heart racing in your chest. “Only yours,” you whisper, and you mean it.

Theo leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and for a moment, the intensity between you softens. His hands, once rough and demanding, now hold you gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid of breaking you. And in this moment, you realise just how deep his feelings for you run, how much he’s been holding back.

“You don’t have to make me jealous to get my attention,” he murmurs against your lips, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin. “You’ve had it from the start.”

You smile against his mouth, your hands sliding up to cup his face, pulling him into a deeper kiss. It’s softer now, slower, but no less intense. Because even though Theo might be possessive and a little rough around the edges, you know that this, you, means more to him than he’s ever let on.

“Let's go to my dorm, alright? Get you cleaned up,” he smiles, leading you out of the now very messy broom cupboard. To your surprise, Anthony is waiting for you a few metres up; Theo moves your body to the other side of him so that it is Theo that is closest to him. When you both walk straight past him he casually says, “Don’t worry about that piece of shit, Ravenclaw, I’ll fix him up tomorrow.” You wondered if that should worry you, not a problem for right now though, your mind still racing with lust and love.

The next morning, you wake up with a warm, almost surreal feeling in your chest. Everything feels different, like the air’s lighter, the world softer, and it’s all because of him. Theo. Yesterday's intensity, the way his hands gripped you like he’d never let go, still lingers on your skin like a secret that only the two of you share. You stretch out on your bed, staring at the ceiling, letting the memories replay in your head. You can’t help but smile as your body remembers the feeling.

But then, of course, reality hits you in the form of Pansy bloody Parkinson.

She barges into the dorm room with all the subtlety of a troll, her arms full of bags from her morning Hogsmeade run. Merlin, that girl has a shopping addiction. "Good morning, sunshine," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she drops the bags onto her bed. "You’re glowing. What did you do? Save a baby unicorn?"

You roll your eyes, pulling the covers up to your chin, trying to hide the ridiculous grin that’s threatening to spill across your face. But Pansy, being Pansy, is like a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out drama, and she narrows her eyes at you.

"Hold on," she says, pausing mid-unpacking, one perfectly manicured hand on her hip. "What is that look? That is not a ‘just got a full night’s sleep’ look. That is a someone rocked my world last night look."

You burst into laughter, but it’s the nerves that I’m hiding something kind of laugh, and Pansy’s eyes widen like she’s hit the jackpot.

"No fucking way." She abandons her bags completely, climbing onto your bed and sitting cross-legged before you. "Spill. Now."

You bite your lip, wondering how in Merlin's name you’re going to explain this without sounding completely insane. But then again, it’s Pansy. There’s no hiding anything from her, and part of you wants to tell her, to relive every second of it by saying it out loud. So, you do.

"It was Theo," you admit quietly, your heart racing as the words leave your mouth. "Yesterday. We… we hooked up."

Pansy’s jaw drops so hard you’re pretty sure you hear it hit the floor. "Theo? As in Theo Nott? The same Theo who’s been brooding over you for months and never made a move?"

You nod, feeling your face heat up under her gaze. "Yeah, that Theo."

For a moment, Pansy is entirely silent, just staring at you like she’s processing this monumental piece of information. Then, suddenly, she lets out a shriek so loud it probably wakes up half the castle.

"Holy shit!" she squeals, grabbing your hands and bouncing on the bed like an excited child. "I knew it! I fucking knew he had it bad for you! So? Was it amazing? Was he, like, all dominating and rough like I always imagined? Tell me everything!"

You laugh, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you think about last night—the way Theo touched you, the way he claimed you, like he’d been holding back for so long and finally couldn’t anymore.

"It was…" You pause, searching for the right word. "Intense. And, yeah, he was definitely possessive. He kept saying I was his."

Pansy squeals again, throwing herself back onto the bed dramatically. "I knew it! I knew that brooding, quiet thing was just a front. Ok, you’re my best friend you owe me the whole story, Don’t miss a detail." as you explain step by step you watch her eyes widen and her smile grow

Before you can say anything else, there’s a knock on the door. Matteo and Blaise stroll in without waiting for an invitation, looking far too smug for your liking. Blaise immediately heads for Pansy’s bed, flopping down like he owns the place, while Matteo leans against the dresser, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"What’s with the giddy shrieks?" Blaise asks, raising an eyebrow. "You two plotting something evil this early in the morning? We haven’t even had breakfast yet"

Pansy rolls her eyes dramatically. "Oh, please. We don’t need to plot evil. It just comes naturally."

Matteo snickers, but his eyes flick to you, narrowing slightly. "Wait a minute… what’s going on? Why does she look all… flustered?"

Before you can even think of a response, Pansy, being the absolute traitor that she is, jumps in with, "Oh, didn’t you hear? Our girl here finally got some action. With Theo."

Matteo and Blaise both freeze, staring at you in shock. For a split second, there’s dead silence, and then, like a synchronised team, they both throw their heads back and shout, "Finally!"

Your eyes widen as Blaise shakes his head in disbelief. "I was starting to think you two would just brood at each other for the rest of eternity."

Matteo crosses the room, sitting on the edge of your bed and giving you a playful shove. "Took you long enough."

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "Can everyone just stop? This is mortifying."

"Mortifying?" Matteo laughs. "No, what’s mortifying is how long you two have been dancing around each other. Honestly, I’m just relieved one of you finally made a move."

Blaise leans back against Pansy’s bed, smirking. "Yeah, we’ve been placing bets on when it would happen. Matteo won, by the way."

You look up, horrified. "You’ve been betting on us?"

"Of course we have," Pansy says, grinning. "It’s been, like, the slowest burn of the century."

You sigh, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. As much as they’re embarrassing you right now, there’s something comforting in the way your friends are reacting—like they’ve all been rooting for this to happen as much as you have.

Blaise stands, giving you a teasing salute. "Well, I’ll leave you to bask in your post-Theo high. Just… try not to kill each other, yeah?"

Matteo follows him out the door, tossing one last look over his shoulder. "Finally."

Once they’re gone, you collapse back onto the bed, shaking your head. "I can’t believe them."

Pansy grins, lying next to you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I can. We’ve been watching this unfold for ages. I’m so happy for you."

“Thank you Pans”, you smile, turning as you lay closer next to her

“Oh! I heard the most unusual thing this morning. Draco told me,” she starts

“Go on” you giggle

“That Anthony Goldstein practically crawled to the hospital wing this morning, black eye, bloody shirt, it seemed pretty ruff” she continued “wait, weren't you sitting by him just yesterday?” you remembered.

Oh, Theo, he did indeed ‘take care of it’.

750 notes · View notes

sashaisready · 4 months ago

Text

Starting Over: Chapter 2 - Broken

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

I'm sorry, part 2 got a little out of hand in length so I've decided to split it up into different chapters! There should only be one more part after this (maybe??!) Hope you enjoy! This is more of Bucky's POV and gives some more insight into what happened. Thanks for all your engagement with this series, as always comments and reblogs are appreciated! Unfortunately I no longer use taglists.

💔

Your phone sat on Bucky’s desk as he stared at it blankly. He wasn’t really sure what he expected, maybe that you’d call it, or it would magically reveal some sort of answers to the many questions he had. But it didn’t. It just laid there, about as useful as a rock. A ‘babe, how are you?! we need to hang out soon!’ notification from Natasha had lit up the screen an hour or so before, but otherwise it just continued to sit silently – an insulting prompt that mocked him with your absence, the clock on the screen taunting him with how late it had become.

He'd had a glance at the checking and credit card accounts he’d set up for you, but they hadn’t been touched. In fact, nothing had been touched. None of your clothes had moved, your toiletries remained in the bathroom. You hadn’t even appeared to have taken any shoes with you. Natasha’s casual check-in text suggested your friends were unaware of what had happened. You’d just…vanished. A ghost in the night.

He felt nauseous, his gut churning. He’d tried to find the CCTV footage of you leaving, but the image was grainy – he could hardly make you out. The cameras had been acting up lately, he needed Steve to get them fixed. He kept thinking about you wandering out into the night by yourself, no money, no plan, how he’d forced you out into the cold. The one person he swore to protect, to keep safe.

His guilt was eating him alive.

But then he thought of the recording. Your voice so clear, laughing with the fed – mocking Bucky, calling him names and sneering at his gullibility. He could hardly believe it all at first. Not you? Not his doll, who had opened him up to love in ways he could have never imagined. Surely it couldn’t have been you, who had uprooted his life for the better, who had hit him like a whirlwind, changing his very being forever in all the best ways?

But he’d checked in with Banner who ran the tech and had confirmed you had been there. Your phone had pinged the cell tower in that exact spot they’d tracked the meeting point to. They’d even found a CCTV clip of you getting in a strange car that day, despite telling Bucky you were having Wanda over for a girl’s night. The audio was delivered by his own men, verified by their informant. The evidence was overwhelming.

‘It was so easy’ you had giggled cruelly on the clip, the words burned into his memory, ‘I just fluttered my eyelashes a few times and he was asking me to move in after a few weeks. I barely lifted a finger yet he swallowed everything I gave him and asked for more. Now I know how his whole operation works…but I need more time on the Stark deal. Just give me a bit longer and I’ll have that one-armed pussy spill everything after a few more ‘I love yous’ and dirty fucks. I promise...’

Of course he’d seen red. How could he not? He’d always been hot-tempered (passionate, his mother used to say), and the recording had destroyed his entire world in a matter of seconds. Aside from the betrayal, the pain, he felt humiliated. He’d finally been vulnerable with someone, shared intimacy in ways he’d never experienced with another person – only to find out it was all a lie. A trick. A joke. It affirmed his biggest fear – that he had been correct to build those walls, to protect himself from anyone who would use his feelings against him. Love could be exploited as a weakness, and he’d turned up to the fight unarmed.

In his mind, he’d not thrown you out – not sweet, beautiful you. Not you who held him close in your sleep and nuzzled into his chest, not you who traced his scars with her fingers and encouraged him to take off his prosthetic when you were intimate if he wished to. Not you, who stayed up late on his birthday just to present him with a homemade cake when he came home after an exhausting meeting – insisting he blew out the candles. Did she ever even exist? He’d always joked you were too good to be true. Now he’d accidentally manifested that into reality.

No. He’d thrown out her. The woman who had been gathering intel on him since the moment the two of you had met. The woman who exchanged kisses for information. The woman who had laughed about all of this as she gleefully ratted on him, delighting in her prowess over the foolish, lovesick mob boss she’d so easily toppled. The woman who’d callously worn the mask of someone who loved him. She was thrown out of his house, out of his embrace.

Unfortunately, the two versions of you were one and the same.

But at least he knew better, now. He’d go back to casual sex and pretty girls hanging off his arm. Easy. Fun. Uncomplicated. The walls would go back up and they wouldn’t come down again. Deep down he’d always known that men like him weren’t meant to be loved, that they weren’t worthy of genuine affection. Not all voids could be filled. People like you, or at least who he thought you were, were not for him. They deserved better. You’d always deserved better. He’d had a brief taste of happiness, but that was all he deserved. The universe would continue to punish him for his many bad deeds.

The only thing left to do was finally go to bed, but a solemn knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He could tell it was Steve.

“Steve?” he called, checking his watch. It was late, he’d assumed his second in command had already gone home.

Steve entered looking sullen. He was tensely holding his phone, and someone appeared to be on FaceTime with him. He cautiously extended it to his long-time friend.

“I’m sorry, Buck”, he said gravely.

“Steve..what?” Bucky asked as he gingerly took the phone from him. Sam looked back at him from the small screen, his solemn expression mirroring Steve’s.

“Bucky…I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly in that same tone, filling Bucky with a sinking dread.

Something was very wrong here.

“What is it?” He fired angrily at Sam, “just spit it out…”

Sam flipped the camera around to face what looked like a heap of old rags on the ground. He appeared to be in a parking garage, surrounded by nothing but concrete and darkness. It was hard to make anything out.

“What am I looking at here?” Bucky squinted at the camera as he tried to focus the image. Steve silently observed over his shoulder.

“Tell him what you just told us,” came the sound of Sam’s furious voice off-camera.

Bucky watched with confusion at the screen as Sam's boot suddenly kicked out at the heap, and the heap moved.

And then he clicked.

The ‘heap’ was a man.

The man groaned and cried out as Bucky realised the ‘rags’ were ripped, bloody clothes. He rolled over in obvious pain as Sam manoeuvred the camera to get a better look. As the man turned over, Bucky recognised his face.

It was one of his own.

“Rumlow?” Bucky asked with confusion.

Behind him, Steve moved closer and leaned forward to watch the screen. “Just watch, Buck” he said sombrely.

Rumlow looked up at the phone, blearily staring into the lens as he squinted at the phone light. His face was bruised and bloodied. Someone had given him a good going over.

“It was me. Alright? I did it,” Rumlow groaned.

“Did what?” Bucky sneered, still not entirely clear on where this was going – but already feeling his anger mounting.

Rumlow sighed heavily and Sam gave him another swift kick to the ribs to encourage him to continue.

He moaned out in pain and closed his eyes. “Aaargh. Alright…I did it! I did it okay! I made the recording!” he spat.

Bucky’s eyes darkened as comprehension of the situation unfolding began to take hold. His fist tightened around the phone screen. “Which recording…Rumlow?” He asked, his voice sinisterly calm.

Rumlow paused and spat a wad of blood onto the floor. Bucky recognised the look of fear building in the man’s eyes, he’d seen it many times before. Rumlow was stalling to delay the inevitable.

“Tell me!!” Bucky roared at the phone, holding it so tightly in his fist that the screen might crack.

He watched Rumlow wince as he turned away from the screen, dropping his head in defeat.

“Of your girl…talking to the police…it wasn’t her-uh-it wasn’t even real. I used AI. From…from recordings of her voice from old security footage…I’m sorry…I just-”

But Bucky was eerily composed. Rumlow took his silence as the cue to continue.

“I hacked into the security system and planted the clip of her getting in the car. And I stole her phone for a few hours when she was at the house with a friend, planting it at the meeting point then driving back with it. She didn’t even notice it was gone…I’m sorry I…”

Bucky cleared his throat. He tapped a single contemplative finger over his lips as his eyes glazed over.

“Sam?” he asked, his voice void of emotion.

Sam flipped the camera back to face himself. He looked grimly into the lens. “I’m sorry Buck…we had no idea…I caught him on the phone with the feds about the shipment – he thought I’d already left and-”

“Keep him warm,” Bucky interrupted, his voice cold like ice, “I have more urgent matters to attend to first, but I will deal with him”.

Sam merely nodded. Just as he cut the call, Bucky heard Rumlow wail and beg in the background. He’d be doing a lot more of that soon.

In a sudden fog of anger, Bucky pelted his phone hard against the wall. He roared with rage, lobbing his scotch glass at the window – shattering both. He flipped his desk, the chair, the bookcase – leaving a tsunami of destruction in his wake. Steve merely watched on, patiently. He knew Bucky needed to vent whichever way he could.

Eventually Bucky slowed, panting with exertion as he took a second to try and slick back his hair, now unkempt and messy from his outburst. He pulled back his shoulders as he attempted to regain his composure.

“We’ll find her, Buck”, Steve told him unwaveringly. “She can’t have gone far on foot. Then you can explain everything and apologise”.

Bucky shook his head as he ran his hands through his hair. Toeing the pile of debris that now cluttered his office floor he sighed heavily. “She told me she didn’t do it, Steve. And I didn’t believe her…”

“The recording was very convincing,” Steve clamped a sympathetic hand onto Bucky’s shoulder, “it sounded just like her – and had all of us fooled. Not to mention the phone location evidence…the CCTV of her leaving…before I came up here, Sam told me that this AI is brand new tech, far more advanced and convincing than what the masses have access to…”

Bucky bleakly shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. She’s my girlfriend and I’m supposed to trust her. Believe her. When I heard her voice on that recording I just…”, he trailed off sadly, “…it tapped into my worst fears…”

Steve nodded sagely. “Let’s just find her first, and you can talk to her. And then we can deal with Rumlow”.

Bucky grimaced, “I knew he was a risk to take on…with our shared history in HYDRA’s organisation…but I never thought…”

“Let’s just find her for now,” Steve repeated, always calm in a crisis. He pulled out his phone, making calls to various members of their group, sending out texts and kicking off various communication chains. In mere minutes, they’d have entire squads of their men scouring the area with a fine-tooth comb.

Bucky stood amongst the wreckage – the room’s physical ruins a glaring reminder that this wasn’t the only mess he’d made tonight. He pulled his own phone from his jacket pocket, opening his photo album as the pings and buzzes from Steve’s device filled the room. He flicked through the pictures of you: your face cheesily grinning at the camera, your lips sweetly planted on his cheek, a candid shot of you cooking in the kitchen – caught off-guard, your mouth a small ‘o’ of surprise. You’d asked him to delete it as you thought you looked dumb, but he insisted he keep as he like the way your eyes sparkled in it. It was one of his favourites. Looking at the pictures helped him calm down, his breath evening as he remembered what was important here. He ran a finger over the image of your face, “I’m sorry, doll” he whispered, “I promise I’ll do anything I can to fix this…”

A couple of miles away, you slept deeply in the tear-stained hotel sheets – completely unaware of the organised efforts to track you down. You didn’t dream, you didn’t stir, you just slept - grateful to give yourself over to oblivion.

💔

There had only been a few places you could have gone on foot.

Bucky’s men had worked quickly despite the late hour. The local police force, already firmly in Bucky’s pocket, loaned him a few law enforcement bodies to assist with the search, no questions asked – as was standard. Sheriff Bodecker always played ball. They collected the CCTV from local businesses, doorbell cam footage from local residents (who weren’t particularly happy to be woken to do so, but didn’t have much choice), swept the area on foot and in vehicles. It was faintly possible you had hitchhiked and thumbed a ride into the city, but Bucky knew this wasn’t likely, so they put that option on the backburner – although it hadn’t been entirely ruled out.

The gas station staff hadn’t seen you, but their CCTV did catch a blurred figure passing in the road opposite the camera. A faint outline of your route started to emerge as the puzzle pieces came together. Eventually, Bucky was sent the security footage of you checking into the Holiday Inn. His heart pulled as he watched you looking lost at the reception desk – your eyes round like saucers as you produced crumpled dollar bills, head turning left to right as you surveyed your drab surroundings. He could only imagine how lost you must’ve felt, how hurt and betrayed. Exiled by the man you loved, you trusted, and having to hunker down in a shitty roadside hotel. Part of him was impressed by your ability to pick yourself up and keep going even in the toughest circumstances – it was one of the many reasons he loved you. But mainly, he was ashamed. Ashamed that he’d pushed you to this, that he’d failed you in so many ways.

Bucky inhaled deeply as he closed the hotel clip on his phone, nodding to his driver and stepping into the dark SUV.

I’m on my way, doll.

#mob!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #starting over fic

788 notes · View notes

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

If you want to be removed, feel free to tell me.

617 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 2 months ago

Note

hello my sweet gorgeous mae!!

how we feeling abt a fic where reader has some difficulty regulating her emotions when she’s upset and just some casual poly!wolfstar dominance. girl honestly just needs a hug and someone to validate her feelings tbh

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!! I did give her a reason for her upset which in retrospect I probably should have just left vague but I hope it doesn't take you out of it and if anyone knows anything that makes them think this relates to me in any way no it literally doesn't why would you think that

cw: somewhat subtle/implicit d/s dynamics (really just a couple joking mentions of "rules" or "bans")

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re grateful to come home to an empty apartment. No sooner does the door shut behind you than the sob that’s been building in your chest jostles its way out. You hug your bag to your front and go to the floor, crying.

You don’t hold back. You let tears flow down your cheeks and take short, jagged breaths to fuel even more, curling your knees towards your chest and pushing your fingertips into your forehead.

Your heartbeat is loud enough in your ears that it takes you a second to register the sound of footsteps on the stairs, but you notice when they pick up their pace as they draw closer. Not, evidently, so empty an apartment after all.

“Dovey.” Remus sounds gutted. You open your eyes, and he looks it, too. Sirius comes up behind him, both of their forms blurring as they crouch in front of you. “What happened?”

You shake your head. “I—I didn’t—” You’re crying like a child, all choked sobs and snivelly voice. “I didn’t—”

“Shh, that’s okay.” Sirius takes your face in his hands. His hold is firm but his thumbs gentle as they brush over your cheeks. “Just nod yes or no for me, my love. Are you hurt?”

You shake your head.

Some of the worry eases from his features, but his brows pinch sympathetically. “Just sad?”

You open your mouth to answer him, and a hiccup of sobs spills out.

Sirius makes a pained sound and pulls you to him. Remus murmurs, “Oh, sweetheart.”

You try to speak again into the material of Sirius’ shirt, to apologize for coming home like this, but both boys shush you, Sirius rubbing your back while Remus gives your arm a squeeze and leans over to kiss your head.

Remus takes your shoes off for you, and Sirius helps him ease your bag off your shoulder without ever really loosening his hold on you. They move you to the couch. Your boyfriends work in quiet harmony, one always comforting you while the other takes measures to make you more practically comfortable.

“Dove, listen to me,” Remus says after a while. “You’re going to make yourself sick. Take a deep breath.”

You try, inhaling only for it to come jerking back out of you on another sob. “I can’t.”

“You can.” Sirius rubs your back. “Keep trying, baby.”

They talk you through deep breaths for a while, until you start to calm and it’s only Sirius’ voice in your ear, low and reassuring while Remus goes to get something from the kitchen.

He passes you a cold glass of water when he gets back, while Sirius is scraping damp pieces of hair back from your face. Presses it into your hands.

You sniffle. “I’m not really thirsty.”

“You’re going to be dehydrated after all that. You don’t have to drink it all at once,” he says, and the message is clear: but you do have to drink it. “Take your time if you need to.”

You take a shaky breath, bringing the glass to your lips.

“There you go.” Sirius kisses your cheek. You love and hate when they gang up on you like this. You’re between them on the couch, quite literally the center of attention. It’s both comforting and overwhelming. “Now, are you ready to say what’s wound you up so badly?”

You swallow, nodding. “Sorry,” you say, and you still sound congested, “I didn’t think anyone was home.”

Sirius tsks. “You know the s word is banned.” He somehow manages to strike a tone that’s both loving and stern. “You don’t get to start bending the rules because you’ve had a bad day.”

“You shouldn’t feel like you can’t cry when we’re here, either, sweetheart,” Remus adds.

“Probably wouldn’t have made such a spectacle of it, though.” You attempt a feeble smile. Neither boy looks amused. “It was only that I got my rejection from the Lunds job.”

“Oh.” Remus' face creases with sympathy. He rubs your thigh. “You really wanted that one, yeah?”

You shrug, but tears fill your eyes again against your will, dribbling down your cheeks. “I thought I had a good feeling about that one,” you whisper. Sirius starts stroking between your shoulder blades again. “It was stupid.”

“I’m beginning to think we should ban every s word,” Sirius mutters. There’s no bite to it, though, and when you crack a smile he kisses underneath your ear. “It wasn’t stupid, baby. You were excited about it.”

Remus’ voice is a low hum. “It’s not just about this one job, though, is it?”

You look at him, tasting salt in the seam of your lips.

“You’ve been anxious about all this for a long while,” he says, thumb moving over your knee in a slow, soothing back-and-forth. “I think you put all your stock into this one, and now it’s caught up to you, but this was never the only one that mattered. You can still find a job somewhere else.”

“I just…” You draw in a breath, trying to steady yourself. “I thought I was so perfect for this one. If they didn’t want me” —your voice wavers— “how can I expect to ever get one?”

“Angel, I love you, and you know I think you’re a genius ahead of your time,” says Sirius, “but that is some very shoddy reasoning. You’ve no idea who else applied. They might’ve had fucking superman in their stack of applications, and you could’ve been their second choice. That’s not going to happen every time.”

“But it is still,” Remus tells you, taking your hand in his, “very hard to feel like you weren’t good enough. I’m sure all you’ve been putting in without getting results weighs on you, yeah?”

You bite down hard on your lower lip to keep from bursting into tears again. Somehow Remus always knows how to get to the heart of the issue.

“Yeah,” you say softly.

“Oh, I know, sweet girl.” He pulls you into his side, kissing your head. “You’ve worked so hard. But it’ll all pay off in the end, alright? What’s say we have a break for tonight. No more applications, just relaxing.”

“Yeah,” Sirius agrees for you. “After a good cry like that, I think a film and some cuddles are in order.”

“These aren’t already cuddles?” you joke wetly.

He makes an offended squawking noise. “Not proper ones. Get your cozies on and let Rem make us a hot cocoa, babydoll, and then we’ll remind you what real cuddles are like.”

746 notes · View notes

yuoimia · 3 months ago

Text

⊹ ࣪ ˖ SAVED NUMBERS

summary: you’re not the only one trying to keep it together (conversations over the phone) based off this scene from summer strike. characters: alhaitham, kinich, childe notes: fluff, teasing, mention of anxiety in kinich’s, wc: 1.3k

alhaitham

A sudden pattern of musical chimes sliced through the silence of the dark bedroom.

Automatically, a cathartic groan and yawn escape from your mouth as you blindly manoeuvred your hand across your nightstand, finally seizing the source of the irritating noise. A tap of your finger revealed the time and responsible caller.

“Is he crazy?” you abruptly sat up, roughly rubbing your eyes as if it there were some kind of mistake. “It’s 4am, for goodness sake.” Nevertheless, your finger swiped to answer the call, sinking yourself back into the warmth of the thick blankets and pillows and holding the phone close to your ear.

“Do you know what time it is?” you drawled, switching your attention from the ceiling to the phone.

“I couldn’t sleep,” came a breathy reply, those three words fluctuating in audibility. A faint hint of laughter. “But to answer your question, yes I do. It’s 4:06am.”

His voice is tender and doused in fatigue, a rare state to find the illustrious scribe. Gentle rustling of a comforter and indistinct breaths over the line. How close was he holding the phone? As if instinctual, you raise a hand against your lips to suppress any traces of nervousness and regulate the rapid beating echoing in your chest.

“You haven’t fallen asleep yet, have you?” he asked albeit suddenly, the sounds of movement halting.

You turned over and pulled the blanket to signify your consciousness, clearing your throat. “No,” then smiling as you added, “does my absence go as far as to completely disturb your precious sleep?”

Despite the cool emptiness of the night, the momentous distance that separated you both felt unimportant and forgotten. “You’re so bold.” Imperceptible traces of adoration intertwining within his voice, “but you’ve never been wrong when it comes to me.”

kinich

The scent of salt and sweet fruit juice swept through the open window of your rented cabin, sweeping the sheer curtains that adorned the wooden sides in graceful arches. Beyond the intricate frames stretched the breathtaking vastness of a tired sky, dwindling from its vibrant hues to a soothing navy blue, the prelude to a serene night blessed with stars. Faraway music and laughter echoed through the rolling hills of the People of the Springs, their infectious celebrations spilling through the evening, washing away any last remnants of worry or doubt that were previously clawing in your guts. It felt strange, almost eerie, somehow. Everything that once seemed so big and important felt so small and trivial against the quiet sanctuary where thoughts could gather by choice. This fragile feeling of saturated peace was always depicted as something temporary, and perhaps it was, but its value always lasted infinitely.

You take a step back and turn yourself to survey the cabin, leaning your hands against the windowsill. A coastal design with a minimal palette of blues and greys. Warm lamps scattered from the corners of the room to the ceilings of the ensuite. Puffy armchairs and beige bohemian couches around the edges of the bed, generously sized and cocooned by thick blankets and billowy pillows.

From beneath one of the blankets, a faint light emits through the fabric, simultaneous with the constant vibrating. The contact name elicits a soft smile, wasting no time to slide your finger to answer the call.

“I thought you’d forget,” you admitted, sinking yourself into the plush mattress. You laid on your back, an outstretched arm over your head as another held the phone.

“I’m offended that you thought so,” came his lofty reply. He was always so casual with his way of speaking. Blunt in some eyes, but equally endearing.

“I don’t have much time before Ajaw comes back,” and as if sensing your confusion, he adds, “I sent him on an… impromptu and urgent mission.”

His earnestness, so refreshing in the midst of such a quiet evening, brought forth a fit of laughter that resonated in your chest, and spread through the form of euphoria into your veins, warm and delicately precious. “It’s not late yet. Did you trick Ajaw into completing your commissions for you?”

His response was a half-hearted ‘hmm’. If this was a video call, you’re 99% sure that it would be accompanied by an even more half-hearted shrug. A moment to close his eyes, too.

“Poor Ajaw,” you jested, leaning to your side. “Out doing his master’s work while he handles other things he deems more important.”

“This is more important,” Kinich replies thoughtfully. “I wanted to say I love you before you went to sleep.”

For a fleeting moment, you’re completely suspended in silence, as if time momentarily halted. Did you hear that right? Of course you did; it wasn’t anything shocking. He was probably teasing you, provoking a reaction, like usual.

“The sun is still setting; what made you think I’d sleep this early?” You were nosy now, curiosity piqued at what he had to reason. I wanted to say I love you. It chanted like a spell, casting you into a dazed and smiling mess. I wanted to say I love you.

“The People of the Springs pride themselves on their bustling atmosphere. You’re not the type to miss out on that. Knowing you, you’ve probably exhausted yourself and are lying in bed as we speak.”

Bingo, bingo, and bingo.

childe

Only three more hours…

Boredom and exhaustion rippled through your body as you cupped your face in your hands, leaning absentmindedly over the front counter of the Northland Bank. Ornamental decorations occasionally twinkled when someone would enter, lazily drifting for a few seconds before falling back right into place, mirroring your state quite accurately. Each person was greeted in the same, uniform way. You’d briskly straighten with a polished smile, brightly posing a list of questions everyone would be asked before slouching back down once you successfully redirected them to an appropriate staff member.

“It would probably be dark by the time I’m out,” you mumbled with a ghost of a pout at the door, gazing half-heartedly at the tinted panels lined near the ceiling. Spotting a loose pen on the floor, you bent to retrieve it when the sound of a phone ringing from a cupboard caught your attention.

Answering personal calls while on the job was a strict regulation that was generally prohibited. Even so, you pondered, folding your arms and sneaking sideways peeks at the entries to empty hallways, so painfully desolate that even it too seemed opposed to any opportunity for distraction, those heedless and sickeningly pompous higher-ups would never dream of working on a Saturday afternoon, more or less care if a forgettable receptionist were to be caught on the phone.

“Hello?” you answered flatly, clearly disinterested in who the caller was from the way you didn’t bother to check the contact name before holding the phone close to your ear. Indistinct sounds of metal clashing and dull thuds echoed in response, and oddly, the bubbling of rushing water.

“Hello?” you repeated once again, a bit more forcefully in case the recipient couldn’t hear over the bizarre assortment of noises. A new round of agitation flushed through your body at the callers purposeful disregard, heat clambering up your face. Within the second you seriously contemplated hanging up, a panting voice emerged, and with it, a fervent series of persistent coughing and choking.

“Hey, don’t hang..up,” the voice, weak but evenly enthusiastic. “Sorry about that, I called, then a random army of treasure hoarders started attacking me from nowhere, and I had to-“

“Is this who I think it is?” Pausing in disbelief from amazement, you felt surges of every possible emotion colliding against each other in nauseating rounds inside your head. Hearing his voice so close by your ear whilst being surrounded by the bleakest of places felt like a taste of something divinely transcendental.

“Who else?” a breathless laugh came from the person on the other line. “I know…you told me to not call you unless it was an emergency, but hey, i’ve got your attention now, and I’d like to savour that for as long as I can.”

#genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #kinich x reader #kinich x you #childe x reader #anya writes ᝰ.ᐟ

455 notes · View notes

zenlesszonezero · 16 days ago

Text

As the conspiracy reaches its finale, the Void Hunter joins the fight.

Uncover the Conspiracy in Zenless Zone Zero's All-New Version "A Storm of Falling Stars", S-Rank Agent Hoshimi Miyabi is here! With S-Rank Agent Asaba Harumasa Limited-Time Giveaway! Pre-register to obtain additional rewards.

#Zenless Zone Zero #Miyabi #Harumasa #HoYoverse #zzzero #zenlesszonezero #Mobile Game #Anime Game #Gaming

893 notes · View notes

sturnioz · 4 months ago

Note

fratboy!chris when he gets word that shy!readers friends have dragged her to a party at a frat house he does not fuck with

dude would still find a way to make a comment about how he literally doesn’t care (him rushing over there, pissed off at the inconvenience, severely contradicts that)

- 🫧

"what is your girl doin' at some other frat party?"

chris barely registers the question over the thumping bass of the rap track pulsing through the speakers and he lifts his head, momentarily distracted from counting crumpled dollar bills he'd made selling drugs all night.

"the fuck are you talkin' about?" chris snaps, his brows knitting together in irritation as nate shoves his phone into chris' line of sight, squinting at the bright screen as it presents an instagram post from your friend with a series of pictures at another frat house. "nah.. nah, s'not her. she's at home. studyin' for some stupid—"

"bro, it's her." nate insists, his voice cutting through chris' denial as he jabs at the screen, a tag of your username popping up on a photo of you in a short, black dress, one that's never seen you wear before.

chris refuses to believe it's you — of course he does.

why the fuck would you be at another frat house when you've always said you don't like parties? he clings to denial like a lifeline, but as nate scrolls to another picture, your face lights up the screen, a small smile gracing your lips beside your friends. it twists something dark and primal in his gut, igniting an anger he can't shake.

a humourless laugh escapes him, bitter and sharp, as he presses his tongue to his cheek and shakes his head in disbelief. he shoves the crumpled dollar bills into his pocket, the sound of his tongue clicking against his teeth echoing his frustration.

"yeah i uh, i don't give a fuck. nah, don't care." he mutters under his breath, but the words feel hollow as he stands up from the couch, his heart pounding in his chest. he sniffs defiantly, grabbing his phone from the armrest with a sense of urgency.

nate raises his brow, "then where are you—"

"shut the fuck up."

he's strides away from his fraternity house, jaw tensed and hands buried deep in his pockets, each step driven by a determination that pulses through him. the closer get gets, the louder the music and chaos of the party become, a mix that only fuels his irritation and subtle worry.

he pushes his way inside, shoving past people who block his path, eyes scanning the room frantically in search of you. familiar faces from his own parties greet — the guys giving casual handshakes and dap-ups, while a few girls giggle and tug at his arm.

he uses their attention to his advantage, pulling them in close, leaning down to whisper your friend's name in their ears, knowing she's the more well-known one out of you both.

they eagerly point him in the right direction, and he shoved them away without a second thought, their surprised gasps fading behind him as he navigates deeper into the crowd of bodies.

as he approaches the kitchen, he spots you and your friend filling up your cups, a smile present on your lips. without hesitation, chris saunters over, invading your personal space so suddenly that it makes you flinch back, nearly spilling your drink.

his hand grips your chin, tilting your head up so he can scrutinise your face, searching for any signs of drugs coursing through your veins.

you blink at him in surprise, confused etched across your features. "oh, what are you—"

"did y'take anythin'?" he cuts you off, voice low and urgent. "someone give you anythin', huh? what have you had? tell me, kid, i swear to god—"

"no, i didn't take anything," you frown softly, your cheeks squished together by his grip. chris exhales deeply through his nose before he finally pushes your head away, causing you to whine softly. "ouch—"

"the fuck do you think you're doin'?" you assume he's talking to you, but your surprise deepens when he turns to face your friend, who looks livid at his sudden appearance. "why're you bringin' her here, huh? are you fuckin' stupid?"

"i'm not going back to your stupid frat house again," your friend hisses, glaring back at him. "your asshole of a frat brother—"

"yeah, i don't give a fuck about what happened between you 'n my frat brothers, alright? 'cos that shit got nothin' to do with me. at all. she—" chris points back at you and you blink innocently, caught in the crossfire. "she got somethin' to do with me, yeah? you don't bring her here, you understand that?"

your friend opens her mouth to argue back, but chris is already pushing you out of the room, his hand pressing firmly against your lower spine as he guides you forward. you remain quiet, chewing your bottom lip nervously as you step outside into the brisk night air, the cold nipping at the bare skin of your arms and legs.

your glance up at chris who walks beside you with a tense jaw, his eyes narrowed at the ground, sniffing angrily.

"are you mad at me, chris?" you ask him softly, a hint of worry threading through your voice.

"nah. nah, not mad at you, kid," chris mumbles, tone gruff as he sucks through his teeth, glancing over at you briefly. he exhales deeply, then moves in front of you, fingers brushing beneath the thin shoulder strap of your dress. "look at you. what're you wearin' this for? never seen this shit before in m'life — got dresses like this lyin' around on the sly or somethin'?"

"it's not mine," you reply quickly, wanting to clarify that it was borrowed from your friend. you take a breath, wanting to address what just happened. "chris—"

"y'look pretty, kid," he interrupts, the compliment tumbling out suddenly. the implication is clear: he does not want to talk about it.

"oh, thank you, but—"

"c'mon. let's go back to mine, yeah? s'borin' here and uh, y'don't need to be here — safer with me, y'know?

you hesitate for a moment, wanting to stay put and try and make him talk to you, but chris is already moving, leading you further away from the party, the tension in his shoulders telling you that he's struggling with his own feelings and emotions.

you can't help but steal glances at him before you speak up again. "chris.. i want to—"

chris stops abruptly, turning to face you, the intensity in his eyes making your heart race. "i don't wanna talk, a'ight? 'cos yeah, kid, i am mad. m'not mad at you, but m'fuckin' pissed at her for bringin' you here when you don't even fuck with parties anyway. and i — i don't want you caught up in any of that shit that goes on here, okay? jus' wanna go home with you... okay? ...please?"

#ᯓ꒰asks꒱#ᯓ꒰anon꒱#ᯓ꒰🫧anon꒱#☆ fratboy!chris #☆ shy!reader #꒰ fratboy!chris x shy!reader prompt ꒱

707 notes · View notes

purple-obsidian · 7 months ago

Text

mine or yours (18+, jason todd x fem reader) wc 1.1k

⭓ this post contains sexual content and is not suitable for minors.

This is wrong. You’re being unsafe. You know this. You barely know this man, and yet, you accepted his offer to help you move. It wasn’t even into a new building, you were just switching units with the old man you’ve befriended since living here, since you had an apartment on the first floor. The crappy apartment building you live in always has issues with the elevator, and Mr. Espinosa recently started using a walker. You were just doing the right thing, letting the senior citizen switch with you so he could have the more accessible unit. And so was Jason- just doing the right thing, helping his new neighbor move when he saw you struggling with carrying heavy boxes up and down several flights of stairs.

Touched behind the reason for your move, he cleared his whole Saturday to not only help you move in, but help the old man settle in as well. Seeing your new neighbor lift such heavy boxes and bulky pieces of furniture with ease was something you didn’t expect to affect you so much. But watching him work had your heart beating fast, and the giant of a man caught you staring at his strong arms more times than you’re comfortable admitting.

“Let me buy you some pizza, it’s the least I can do.” You had offered at the end of the day, both of you tired from the hard word you put in.

“I like pizza.” He said cooly, leaning against your doorframe and grinning at you. The way he casually wiped the sweat from his brow made your throat feel tight.

A nervous smile spread across your face, as you reach in your pocket for your phone. “Great! I’ll order some for delivery. You like pepperoni?”

That was several hours ago. Now, it’s almost midnight, and your new neighbor has you bent over your couch, large hands gripping your hips, clothes discarded in a pile on the floor, him rearranging your guts as an old sitcom rerun plays on your TV, which is stacked precariously atop several unpacked boxes.

“That’s it… you like that, don’t you? I can feel you clenching, baby, you gunna cum?” He asks, breathless and smiling, a bead of sweat running down his forehead.

You try desperately to conceal the lewd noises coming from your mouth. His pace is unwavering, tantilizing, making your toes curl and your fists clench at how delicious the friction feels against your inner walls. You don’t trust yourself to try and speak, so you just nod, looking back at him with a completely fucked-out look on your face.

Jason chuckles, and reaches forward to grasp the back of your neck with his hand. The feeling of his calloused skin gripping you there feels so dominating, it elicits a low whimper from your parted lips, unable to hold it together while your pleasure builds to an intolerable level. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.” He hisses through gritted teeth.

His praise is the final push you need. Your pleasure peaks as his hips thrust into yours, spilling over and flooding your body with warm tingles that radiate down your legs. You’re sore from all the work you’ve done today, trekking up and down 4 flights of stairs more times than you can count. Your exhaustion seems to intensify your orgasm, making you shake and shudder, more of your slick leaking out around Jason’s cock when he finally slows his pace.

“Yes… fuck yes. You’re something else, baby.” His possessive grip on your neck releases, letting both hands wander down to caress your ass gently, watching you twitch and spasm around him from the intensity of what he just did to you. His eyes wander to where your bodies meet, and his cock throbs painfully when he sees the abundance of wetness dripping from your swollen cunt.

You struggle to keep yourself from going limp. It feels like someone filled your brain with warm honey, all coherent thoughts have disappeared, replaced with feelings of euphoria, given to you by a stranger.

Jason pulls out of you, but keeps his hands firmly on your waist to guide you so you’re laying down on your back, head resting against the arm of your old grey couch he helped you carry in just hours earlier.

“I… that… you…” You stammer out a few words, unsure of what you’re even trying to say anymore.

“Ha, yeah, me too, ma.” Jason kneels on the couch, leaning over you and lowering his head so he can place a few warm kisses over your chest. “But I’m not done.”

Reflexively, your hands go to his head, running your fingers through his hair as you revel in the feeling of his lips against your skin. His warm mouth dances over your breasts, kissing and licking at your nipple languidly, taking his time and savoring this moment.

“M’tired, Jason, so tired.” You finally mutter when your brain fog starts to clear.

“Don’t worry. All you gotta do is lay there and look pretty. I’ll handle the rest.” His voice rumbles deep in his chest, giving you a fluttering feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“But-“

“Oh, and you can call me Jay, if you like.”

“Jay,” you let out a sigh, “You gotta be tired too, why don’t we- mmmphhh!”

Your eyes were fluttering shut, which is how you missed when he shifted lower to position his face between your legs. His eager tongue laps at your aching cunt, soothing the soreness there, savoring the taste of your arousal before focusing his attention on your clit. His hands snake up under your thighs and around your hips, hiking you up effortlessly to give himself better access, holding you mostly still but not too firm. He’s being gentle. Far more gentle than you would expect from someone like him.

“J-jay…” You look down at him, his dark hair disheveled, cheeks flushed, piercing green eyes staring back up at you.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t pull his mouth away to answer you. His greedy lips are planted around your sensitive nub, licking at it as he creates just a little bit of suction. You want to squeeze your legs shut when the vibration of his hum tickles you. He’s already coaxed two orgasms from you, making you even more sensitive to his attention.

“You should… it’s getting… shit…” How the fuck are you supposed to concentrate when he’s looking at you like that? “W-we should go to bed.” Your fingernails graze his scalp gently.

“Mmm.” He moans in agreement, finally pulling his lips away from your core. “I guess we could continue this in bed.”

That isn’t exactly what you meant. But for some reason, you don’t have it in your heart to correct him.

“So…” He untangles himself from your legs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing his hand up and down your bare calf. His demeanor is so casual, as if he didn’t just completely rock your world. An excited grin appears on his rugged features as he asks, “Mine or yours?”

⭓ masterlist ⭓

#[purple-obsidian]#dc smut #jason todd smut #red hood smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #wrote this on my phone on my lunch break #not my best but posting it anyways #smut

960 notes · View notes

gotmyass2marz · 4 months ago

Text

i am placing blocks n shit cus im in fuckin minecraft

#my art #eyestrain #blood #gore #whamola ilove you whamola im gonna use you as a punching bag for soooo long #casually spills guts #<- cus Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh

11 notes · View notes

itachiiwrites · 3 months ago

Text

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐃

Pt. 2 of Notice me! Senpai!

Plot: By now you should know he'll do just about anything to get your attention, even if it means being shitty at a job he's good at.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Tags: divider by @cafekitsune , @rookthornesartistry beta by lovely @entirelysein-e | @pixelcafe-network

a/n; I know I'm ignoring my kinktober list..I know...

๋࣭ 𐙚˙⋆.˚ cw. Minors. Do. Not. Enter. Smut, p in v sex, cunnilingus, fellatio, 69, prone bone, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk gojo, gojo is a yearner, age gap (reader is 33, Satoru is 28), canon divergent (it's never gojover :⁠^⁠))

Word count: 2.8k

Gojo Satoru never thought that he’d be so gullible.

Gullible enough to let himself get dumped by you, not that you dumped him in actuality, in his head you were so much more than that one time you sent him a risqué text accidentally, which consequently led to a very eventful thing happening. Key word, sex.

He knew that had to do something to get your attention, which meant doing a terribly sloppy, messy job on a mission. The killing wasn't the part he would suck at, for very obvious reasons but he could unapologetically collapse a few evacuated buildings, spill the guts, bones and blood of the curses obscenely enough that it left a trace even for the non-sorcerers. The consequences would leave him in a lot of deep shit from the higher ups and principal Yaga.

“Satoru, the casualties in Kobe weren’t as much as we expected, but for the love of fucking god! Can you care enough to explain why you’ve NOT done a clean job?” The air pressure in the room seemed to be skyrocketing with principal Yaga’s blood pressure and the way veins on his forehead were perceptibly popping out, contrasted by Satoru’s smirk of unbothered cool detachment. You knew it was bad the moment principal Yaga didn't particularly care about cuss words effortlessly leaving his mouth.

“My job is to obliterate, I obliterate, maybe maid Ichiji is just not doing his job well” You furrowed your brows at the entitlement and smugness in his statement. Shrugging his shoulders with his hands raised up in a gesture of ‘I wonder’, all of this being way too unserious and unimportant to him. What the fuck was that?

Your presence wasn't technically needed here, but you were specially called for since the only person Satoru considered listening to was you. You stood adjacent to the poor, scrawny man currently hanging on a flimsy thread of his sanity, and the risk of the consequences that his senior was so casually posing for him. You watched the meek man deep his head down, that's when you knew you had to step in for your colleague.

“Gojo-kun, take this seriously. Calling Ichiji-san a maid is not very nice either, it's better to be considerate of people who take away the burden from you for a lot of things. A ‘thank you’ would be better than the..whatever way you're speaking.” The stern tone in your voice definitely took him aback, a strange tug taking over his chest, before he let out an uproarious guffaw, almost like he didn’t take what you said seriously. Ouch.

“Fiiine, I'll do it for you, Just for you.” He threw his hands up dramatically and it drew a wringing smile on your lips. Almost. Yaga on the other hand, was technically on the verge of snapping again at his response, but you saw the principal do EFT, making you sigh at how effortless Satoru was at everything, especially at annoying people.

"Well, thank you Ichiji, since my dear Senpai here is telling me to be polite” He hummed with a smile, a little hopeful after a bordered smile that he pulled from you, his beloved.

His fingers played with the seam of the silky fabric of his blindfold. You noticed. It was an action he often did whenever he was in the wrong about something, where he was thoughtful. It wasn't that he wanted to push the blame on Ichiji, he just wanted your attention, some sort of reaction after being ghosted so brutally after that day. The black haired man simply nodded, acknowledging the apology, darting his eyes at you with a glimmer of gratitude, for stepping up.

You knew he was meeting your eyes, though not visibly, through the restraint of his blindfold. This was not the reaction that he expected, his glossed bottom lip poking out in a pout at the non-verbal interaction between you and Ichiji. And oh how it made him feel bitter. “So did that make you happy, Senpai?” pettishly breathed out, the tonality in his voice was clipped, cold, annoyed and you just rolled your eyes, equally peeved. There was nothing poor about him, and he was getting way too comfortable even at work. But he thought he had that privilege, especially after being between your legs. Not that he understood the concept of personal space, ever.

“Forget it! No one can convince this block head, don't waste your energy. Get back to work everyone.” Yaga had evidently given up at the fact that Satoru wouldn't budge from his cockiness even after being scolded upon.

“See ya, old man” Satoru's statement was met with nothing but a door slam, followed by the presence of you and Ichiji leaving as well, no longer in the room.

He huffed, expecting him to give him an arm touch before you left and look at him with your sympathetic eyes before he'd press his lips against yours and source his energy from the suppleness of them. Fuck. He couldn't be nonchalant about you ignoring him, he was spiralling.

Something had to be done about this.

๋࣭ 𐙚˙⋆.˚

You being stern to him didn't really pay off well, Satoru took it too personally, so personally that he was now at your doorstep, his tall stature looming over you, his broad shoulders that were casting a shadow onto you, drenched from the rain pouring outside, almost looking like a wet dog. Your mind brimmed with questions, why wasn't his infinity on? You stepped away from the door, allowing him inside, a soft cringe taking over your features when you saw the splatters of water on your clean wooden floor. Not like he cared.

“Why weren't you carrying an umbrella?” You looked like a mother, who had her hands on either side of her waist, frustrated with her child who decided that playing around in mud was a good idea. That's what you looked like to Satoru. Cute.

He locked his eyes in yours with a snare gaze along with a playful smile settled on his lips. Not exactly in the mood for talking after your treatment towards him earlier. He grabbed your wrist with a firm, determined grip, making you stumble onto his lap, in a straddle with a soft thud. You lamented softly at the feeling of the wet fabric against your dry, warm and crisp ones.

“You're soiling my clothes, Satoru!” You grumbled further, slapping his chest, your hands quick to smooth away the new state of your clothes, as if it would help.

You swivelled your head on your neck upward, looking at him, and his face had an expression of arrogant confidence and no remorse, a smirk playing the corner of his mouth, cloudy hair plastered on his forehead as thick drops of water streamed down his pretty face in rivulets. He had no right to look this good.

“What? You can handle this much.. you've been awfully rude to me, Princess. Besides, I'm gonna get you drenched anyway.” To which your face loomed a rosy pink. He gave a raspy laugh at the end of the suggestive comment then leaned in, his breath on your cheek warm as he pressed a soft, tender kiss onto your shaded cheek, his hands now growing explorative with his touch, slipping underneath your cardigan.

“You know why I got wet in the rain?” He left the question in the air, a rhetoric as his nimble fingers unbuttoned the cardigan, his eyes half lidded, watching the wool slide down from your shoulders, edging below the lace of your bra. ‘Fuck’ he muttered, tracing his fingertips on the swell of your bosom, frantically leaning in to tether wet kisses from your collarbone to your cleavage, his large hands expanding to cup your clothed chest, circling his hands in soft fondles, earning a mewl from your lips.

His eyes snapped at your face at your reaction, face flushed and eagerly watching his each move. You wanted him. You wanted him!

“I did it to have your attention..even that stupid mission that I could've finished in seconds..did it for you, all for you..Senpai” Shaking his head as he confessed, his hands creeping down to grasp at the plush flesh of your thighs from below, picking you up to land the two of you in your bedroom. You were flattered to the depths of your heart but you just couldn't pinpoint or understand where this was coming from. It had only been 3 days since you both were together again after that night.

He slid off the long coat of his uniform, then his pants and boxers with a grunt as it clung to his skin. He moved on the bed, hovering on top of you, your eyes failing to dart away from his cock that was unbearably hard and prodding at your inner thigh.

“It's not like you don't have my attention—” you crooned, your voice to him like velvet, wrapping around him like a gentle embrace. It was a voice that caressed his ears and soothed his soul, a sound that made him want to listen to you speak forever; the sweetness and undertone of sensuality. Something an adrenaline junkie like him could get addicted to but he cut you off, to make his point.

“It's not enough…it'll never be enough. I'll never not have enough of you” He spoke in a new found desperation in his voice, his fingers hauling the material of your slacks and panties, prying open your thighs, moaning at the sight of your inviting, sodded, glistening cunt.

“All this for me?” He asked in confirmation and you shuddered at the coolness of his fingers that were tempered because of him being wet in the rain priorly.

You nodded your head frantically, your hand settled on his wrist to do something, while he teased your slit so painfully slow, at an agonising degree. “ ‘Toru..please, do something..” that pleading your voice was so satisfying, so affirmative to the light of the fact that you wanted him too. “Fuck.. baby, say it again..need you to say it again..” He pleaded, the azure of his eyes wild and crazed, a feral gleam in their depths that sent shivers down your spine.

“All for you..” That's it. Satoru flipped you over, manhandling you to settle yourself on top of him, now in front of his proud cock, while your ass was on his face, his eyes fixed on your drooling heat.

He dipped in, giving an experimental lap onto your folds, his eyes rolling back at your taste, your essence while his two fingers nudged at the stretchy, entrance muscle, slipping them in with ease, your back arching at the intrusion. His tongue drew circles onto your clit, delving to spread your already profanely exposed pussy with his free hand, smiling at how your nub was poking out, greedy for his tongue, his fingers, his cock.

His hand came down on the globe of your ass with a sharp, stinging smack, the impact making you gasp, a consecutive whine passing your lips when he stopped, your heartbeat in a thrumming beat when he stopped his ministrations and pulled away, giving you another smack, your walls fluttering even at the emptiness. “You're not facing my cock for nothing, suck on it. Make good use of your mouth other than, you know…defending another man.”

“You're full of yourself, you really are..”

Yet you obliged even as you felt vexed by his backhanded comment, your thumb moving up and down on the velvet skin, on his frenum, admiring the curve of his blessed inches before lewdly taking him in your mouth, moaning with your mouth clasped around him when he gave a particularly harsh suck on your clit, your pussy now bubbling with his spit as he ate you out so voraciously, grunting and whimpering on your core in need, in yearning. He felt a little asphyxiated at you sitting on his face, although the good kind.

The orgasm that coiled in your body finally snapped, the tip of his shaft hitting the back of your throat, his happy trail tickling against your chin, his fingers scissoring into you hard and fast, the gushy, squelching noise at the action resounded on the walls—your eyes rolling back at their sockets, his cock slipping out your mouth, red, angry but lustrous with your spit.

“Thaaat's it, fuck, cum on fingers and mouth..make a mess..” He cooed, increasing the rapidness of his fingers. The wave of tingling heat and pleasure washed over you, a wave that crested and broke as you cried out, body arching and writhing under his touch. He sighed, loudly drinking away your juices before detaching yourself from his face, moving your body to hover on you again.

He teased his fingers on your lips, letting your jaw fall slack as he pushed his fingers in. Your mouth immediately surrounded them, swirling your hot tongue to savour your taste, eyes looking in his, all perused. “Look at you, sucking on my fingers like a nasty little slut. You defended Ichiji earlier..gonna let him do this too? Huh? Tell me Senpai..” He mocked pulling out his fingers to let you speak—that led a gasp to erupt your throat. He was satisfied, seeing the glow on your cheeks, the glassed eyes. All for him.

“No Toru..all for you, just for you.. I'm yours” You cloy, tantalising the head of his cock on your slick folds, the environment in the room balmy and humid. That teasing came to a halt when he propelled himself into you with a full swarm. “You're mine, all mine..mine mine mine..no one's gonna..fuck your pussy like me, make you cum like me..no one, princess..”

๋࣭ 𐙚˙⋆.˚

And he fucked you stupid, so primally, so animalistically. Losing count on how many times he pulled an orgasm after orgasm out of you. Now currently having his body overbearingly pressed on yours, his chest on your back, clammy with sweat, his forearms either side of your head, the way your hips were angled made you feel every inch, hitting at spot. He grunted, picking up his upper body away, hands placed on the small of your back that felt like a voltage.

He kneaded onto the flesh of your ass, prior to drawing both your wrists together, holding them down against your back as he plunged into you in a frenzy, harder and faster, nearing the edge. His own dick raw after cumming in you too many times during the night.

Satoru whimpered at the sight of you so ravenously stretched out his length, swallowing him in as he came again, completely milked dry and your body violently quivering. He chanted your name in soft cries as he pulled out, gently fisting himself and getting out every last drop on your twitching cunny.

He dropped his body onto you like it weighed nothing, ragging breaths leaving his lips and yours. He kissed the expanse of the back of your neck, playfully blowing a raspberry on your skin, making you giggle.

“You're a freak.” You turned around, allowing your manicured hairs to trail through his hair, enjoying the texture of his silky strands, as you brushed it back from his forehead. Your touch was gentle, almost reverent, fingers carded through the locks, massaging his scalp with a light pressure that made him hum in contentment.

“I'm your freak..” The giddy, smitten smile on his face makes your heart flutter. Damn it.

“Be my girlfriend..I can't take anymore of you not being mine anymore..” He saw the hesitation flicker across your face and it caught him off guard, the sorcerer felt something drop sickeningly in his stomach. Definitely his heart.

“...Let me think about it, okay?” He rolled his eyes before pinning your wrists above your head in bravado.

“You want me. I was inside you. I tasted you. That is a truth you will never escape.” He smiled, self assured, seeing the heat crawl on your cheeks at his crude yet factual comment.

“You're blushing..” He pointed, leaning his head downward, fighting the idiotic grin that was slowly lacing his handsome face at your reaction. He hummed, nosing your nipple faintly, before giving it a quick lap.

“So..? Never saw anyone fall for your charm before?” You raise your brow and he snorts, giving a soft bite on the supple flesh of your nipple with a chuckle at your gasp, immediately soothing it with a lick. “Yeah I have seen someone not fall for it, it's you.”

“Well, it doesn't matter because tomorrow I'm telling everyone that you're my girlfriend, especially Ichiji” He proudly replied, pulling you to his chest, inhaling deeply to let your scent tickle his senses.

“You're not gonna lose on this are you?” your arm wrapped around his waist, signalling him that you weren't exactly opposed to the idea.

“Nope, I'm the strongest for a reason” He spoke in his ever unwavering swagger and you could only sigh, being a loser in his love.

300 notes · View notes

ha-rinrin · 2 months ago

Text

Breaking Point

summary: After a reckless mission, you confront Jinx about her dangerous choices. As tensions rise, emotions spill over, revealing deeper fears and desires that threaten to tear you apart.

I tried something new but idk how I feel about this honestly. I also did a sweet ending so let me know if you want me to post it.

okay guys, happy ending right here

and also the sequel

pure angst

wordcount: 1.9k

paring: jinx x f!reader

masterlist

It had been one of those missions—dangerous, but manageable. At least, that’s what you thought. But with Jinx, nothing ever stayed simple. The plan had been clear: in and out, no unnecessary risks. But the moment things got tense, she went off-script. Explosions roared around you, her signature chaos leaving wreckage in its wake, and for a few terrifying moments, you thought you’d lost her.

When the dust settled, you found her grinning like a maniac, reveling in the destruction she’d caused. She was bruised and bloodied, but alive. The relief you felt was swallowed quickly by frustration, the reality of what had just happened hitting you hard.

Now, after healing her, you are back at the hideout, the silence between you had stretched thin. The fear, the anger—it was all bubbling to the surface, and you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"You could’ve died, Jinx!" The words exploded from your mouth as you slammed the door behind you, your voice echoing through the small, dimly lit room. “Do you even care?!”

Jinx barely flinched, sitting hunched over her workbench, fiddling with one of her explosives like nothing had happened. The casualness of it—her indifference—made your blood boil. "It's not like I haven't done this a thousand times before," she muttered, her voice flat.

Your hands clenched into fists, heart hammering in your chest. "That's the problem!" You paced the room, feeling the anger bubbling inside, threatening to spill over. "You keep acting like you're invincible, like none of this can touch you. But it can! One wrong move and—"

"And what?" She cut you off, standing abruptly and spinning to face you, her eyes flashing with anger. "I'll die? Yeah, no shit! You think I don’t know how dangerous it is?!" Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she slammed her hand down on the table, knocking over a few tools. "This is who I am, and if you can’t handle that, maybe you shouldn’t be here."

The words hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of you. You froze, staring at her as the silence between you grew thick and dangerous. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Jinx’s face twisted, her lips pulling into a snarl. "It means you don’t get to control me! You always think you know what's best for me—telling me how I should live, what I should feel. Like I’m some fucking project you're trying to fix."

Your breath caught in your throat. The hurt in her voice was real, but so was your anger. "That’s not what this is, Jinx, and you know it!" You took a step toward her, your voice trembling with frustration. "I’m not trying to fix you. I just—"

"You just what?" she spat, her voice rising. "Love me? Want to protect me? What do you want from me?!" She shoved a hand through her blue hair, the vibrant strands catching the light as she paced in front of you, breathing hard. "You think saying 'I love you' fixes everything? That it magically makes me less fucked up?"

Her words were sharp, cutting through the air, and something in you snapped. "No, but maybe it makes me care enough to not watch you throw yourself away!" Your voice cracked, the raw emotion bleeding through. "You keep risking your life like it means nothing, and it kills me, Jinx. Every time you walk out that door, I wonder if I’ll ever see you again. Do you even care how that feels?"

She scoffed, but the mask of indifference was slipping. "Don’t make this about you."

"It is about me!" You threw your hands in the air, voice shaking with emotion. "I’m the one who has to sit here and wonder if you’re coming back! I’m the one who has to watch you spiral out of control, and I’m supposed to just be okay with that?"

Jinx's eyes narrowed, her voice a low growl. "I’m not your responsibility. I never asked you to fix me or save me. If you can’t handle that, then maybe we’re done."

The words were a slap in the face, cold and brutal. "What?" you whispered, disbelief choking your voice. "You’d just walk away? After everything?"

Her expression hardened, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Maybe I’m tired of you always thinking you know what's best for me. I don’t need another person telling me how to live my life!"

"You’re acting like a child, Jinx!" The words flew out before you could stop them.

Her eyes blazed with fury, her hands shaking at her sides. "Fuck you," she hissed, taking a step closer, her face inches from yours. "You think you're better than everyone else? That you're the one who’s going to save me from myself?" She laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and sharp. "Maybe you’re just as stupid as the rest of them."

The words stung, cutting deeper than any physical blow. “You’re so caught up in your own head that you can’t even see how reckless you’re being!” you shouted, fists clenched at your sides, the frustration boiling over. “You’re going to end up alone, Jinx! Is that what you want? To push everyone away until you’re left with nothing but your chaos?”

She took a step closer, her breath coming in sharp, angry bursts. “And what if I do? What’s it to you? You’re not the one who has to live with this—”

You interrupted her, closing the gap between you, your heart racing as the distance vanished. “Maybe you’re right! Maybe I’m not living it, but I care enough to want to help you! I care enough to fight for you!”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a split second, you thought you saw a flicker of something softer beneath the rage. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by an intensity that mirrored your own. “I don’t need saving!” she shouted, her voice rising to a fever pitch. “You don’t get to decide that for me!”

“I’m tired of watching you spiral out of control!” you yelled back, your voice thick with frustration. “I’m trying to be here for you, but you keep pushing me away like I don’t matter!”

“You think your words can fix me?” she sneered, crossing her arms, body trembling with emotion. “You think I want your pity?”

“Pity? No!” You could feel the heat of the argument intensifying, each word a hammer against the fragile boundaries that had been set. “I want you to see that you’re not alone in this! But if you keep shutting me out—”

She cut you off, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Then what? You’ll save me? You’ll make everything better? You think you can save me from myself?”

She hesitated, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. “You think I’m doing this for fun? You think I want to be alone?”

“Then stop pushing me away!” The words burst forth, the intensity of your emotions overwhelming. “I’m not going anywhere, Jinx. Not now, not ever!”

The tension in the room crackled like static, suffocating and heavy. Jinx stood her ground, defiance radiating from her every pore. “You think this is easy for me?” she spat, the raw edge of her voice a jagged blade.

“I don’t know, Jinx!” you shot back, frustration boiling over. “Maybe if you stopped acting like everything’s a game, I wouldn’t have to worry about you blowing up in my face!” Your heart raced as the truth of your words sank in. Each mission felt like a gamble, her reckless abandon a dark dance with death.

She laughed, a hollow sound that echoed painfully off the walls. “You think you’re the only one scared here? Every time I step out that door, I’m rolling the dice. But it’s my life, my choice! If you can’t accept that, then maybe you’re the one who needs to figure out what you really want.”

“What I want?” Your voice trembled, a mix of anger and sorrow. “I want you to realize that you don’t have to fight this battle alone! But you keep shutting me out like I’m just another enemy!”

Her expression darkened, eyes narrowing. “And what do you want me to do? Change? Stop being me? I’m not some puzzle for you to solve, and I’m certainly not going to pretend to be someone I’m not just to make you comfortable!”

“I never said that!” you yelled, taking a step forward, desperation clawing at your throat. “I just want you to see that your choices have consequences! You think you’re invincible, but you’re not. You’re human, Jinx! And I can’t keep watching you walk into danger like it doesn’t matter!”

“Maybe it doesn’t!” she shot back, her voice rising. “Maybe I don’t care if it matters to you! You act like you know what’s best for me, but you don’t. You don’t know a damn thing about what I want or who I am!”

“Then tell me!” you pleaded, your heart racing. “Tell me what you want. Because right now, it feels like you’re pushing me away as hard as you can!”

Jinx’s eyes flashed, something shifting in them—anger, yes, but also pain. “You think you’re the hero in this story? That you can save me with your pathetic little speeches? You’re just as lost as I am! I don’t need saving. I need you to just… stop trying to control everything.”

The hurt in her voice was a knife twisting in your gut, but you couldn’t let it go. “It’s not control! It’s concern! I can’t help but care, Jinx. I want to be there for you, but you make it impossible!”

“Then maybe you should let me go!” she snapped, the words falling like heavy stones between you. “If you can’t handle who I am, maybe I don’t need you in my life at all!”

The room went silent, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Your heart sank, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a physical blow. “So that’s it, then? You’d just walk away?”

A flicker of something crossed her face—fear, maybe—but it was gone before you could grasp it. “Maybe I’m tired of being your responsibility. I don’t want your pity. I don’t want your help. I want to be me, not some project you’re trying to fix! how many times do I need to say that so that it gets to your head?!”

You clenched your fists, feeling the walls closing in. “What if being you means destroying yourself? What if this ‘freedom’ you crave leads you to a place where I can’t follow?”

“Then that’s my choice!” Jinx yelled, her voice breaking slightly, and for a brief moment, vulnerability peeked through her bravado. “I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not just because you think it’s better for me. I can’t keep playing this game for you!”

“Jinx, please,” you whispered, the anger draining away, leaving only despair. “Don’t push me away. I don’t want to lose you.”

She looked at you, and for a heartbeat, the chaos of her world seemed to still. But then the storm returned, a mask of anger covering her uncertainty. “Maybe you already have,” she replied, her voice cold, and she turned away, leaving you alone in the silence, the reality of her words hanging heavy in the air.

The door closed behind her with a finality that echoed in your heart, and you were left standing in the wreckage of what had been—an aching reminder of how far apart you had drifted.

When she finally returns, there no trace of you.

#jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #jinx/you #arcane jinx #jinx x fem!reader #jinx league of legends #angst #lesbians #jinx posting #jinx lol

248 notes · View notes

insidekatmind · 22 days ago

Text

The End~Jude Bellingham x reader (feat.Jonathan Daviss)

You’re sitting on the bed, your hands trembling as you clutch your phone. Jude is across the room, his face locked in an expression you barely recognize. The love that once united you feels like a distant memory, suffocated by glittering nights, applause, and trophies.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you try to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

Jude runs a hand through his hair, his gaze evasive. “What do you want from me? I’m doing my best!”

“Your best?” you repeat, incredulous. “You don’t even look at me the way you used to. All that matters to you now is football, Real Madrid, your image. I... I don’t exist in your life anymore.”

He scoffs, as if your words are a burden. “That’s not true. But you don’t understand the pressure I’m under. I have responsibilities.”

“And me?” your voice rises, pain spilling out. “Don’t I matter? When was the last time you asked me how I was? When did you actually listen to how I felt?”

Jude stays silent, and that silence speaks louder than any words could. There’s nothing left to say. You stand, gathering your things with shaky hands.

“Goodbye, Jude,” you say, your voice breaking. You expect him to stop you, to say something, anything. But he doesn’t.

---

Six months have passed. You’ve changed. You’re no longer the insecure girl who needed approval. Now, you’re a singer the world is beginning to notice. The success of your latest single, Older, has catapulted you into the spotlight, and the lyrics are a gut punch to anyone who knows how to read between the lines.

“All I needed was someone who truly saw me, someone who treated me the way I deserved. Were you ever really that person?”

The song is everywhere. Jude can’t avoid it, no matter how hard he tries. Every time he turns on the radio, he hears your voice, each word a dagger to his chest. But what’s eating him even more are your social media posts.

In one of your latest photos, you’re with Jonathan Daviss, the actor from Outer Banks. The two of you are close, his smile radiant, his hand casually placed on your waist—a proximity that seems too natural to be accidental. And the caption doesn’t help.

“A man who knows how to treat a woman. 🌹”

Jude sees the photo, and it sets his blood boiling. Jonathan.He can’t get him out of his head.

“I can’t stand it,” he mutters to Vinicius, sitting next to him during practice.

“Who?” Vinicius asks with a smirk. “Ah, you mean your ex? I saw the photo. Nice shot, don’t you think?”

Jude shoots him a glare that could kill.

---

You’re at an event, a music awards ceremony. You’re wearing an elegant black dress that hugs every curve with class and grace. Jonathan is by your side, his arm casually draped across your back. You’re there to accept an award for your song, and the entire room is watching you with admiration.

But among all the eyes on you, there’s one gaze you feel the most. Jude is there. He wasn’t invited, but someone brought him as a special guest. You notice him immediately: he looks flawless, but there’s something in his eyes that makes you feel vulnerable.

After the ceremony, as you make your way to the bar, you find him there. He’s leaning against the counter, a glass of something amber in his hand. You approach him, not because you want to, but because you feel like you have no other choice.

“Congratulations,” he says, his voice lower than you remember. “Your song... It’s powerful.”

“Thanks,” you reply coldly, trying to maintain your composure.

Jude looks at you intensely, the pain evident in his eyes. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

You smile, but it’s a bitter smile. “If you think it’s about you, maybe you should ask yourself why.”

He takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “I know I messed up. I know I lost you because I was... blind, stupid. But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“This isn’t the time for those words, Jude,” you cut him off, searching for Jonathan in the crowd.

But Jude doesn’t back down. “He doesn’t know you like I do. He doesn’t love you like I do.”

“And how would you know?” you challenge, feeling anger rising. “Jonathan treats me like a queen. Something you never did.”

Jude stays silent for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. But I can’t accept it. I can’t accept that it’s over between us.”

His words hit you, but you’re unsure of what you feel. All you know is that you’ve changed, and maybe, just maybe, you no longer want to be the girl who needs saving. Perhaps this time, it’s up to you to decide what you really want.

228 notes · View notes

tune-on-in-folks · 2 months ago

Text

Day 14! Two weeks, that's insane to me. I'm proud of myself for making it this far, and I hope to finish continue this streak. This is another story I had to force myself to stop editing. I keep on going back in and rewriting things over and over. So I'm posting it to keep myself from doing so any longer. Enjoy a Vox x Reader!

Tags/Warnings: Assistant!Reader, P in V sex, creampie, breeding, mention of breeding, fem!Reader, fem!receiving multiple orgasms, smut, blue screening, in-universe body mechanisms, sinners unable to reproduce. Word Count: 1,231

You were Vox’s personal assistant, and more often than not you found yourself in bed with your boss. It had started off as some casual flirting between the both of you. A playful back and forth. It had ended one day, with you bent over Vox’s desk as he fucked into you from behind. Since that fateful day, he started inviting you into his bed more often. You didn’t know how long this relationship with Vox would last, so you decided to enjoy it while you could.

Vox was laying beside you, kissing you softly while his hands rested at your waist. He rolled his hips against you, dragging his growing erection against your panties. At some point in your make-out session, your skirt had ridden up. Now it was bunched at your waist, allowing Vox easy access to you. He trails his lips from your mouth, down your jaw and to your neck. A whine falls from your lips as you tilt your head to the side, allowing him access to your sensitive skin. He moves down your neck, alternating between love bites and gentle kisses. His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs slowly.

“Hah- Vox.” You gasp, eyes fluttering as he begins to rub your clit in small circles.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, two fingers slipping inside your pussy. You moan, allowing him to thrust his tongue into your mouth. His fingers pump in and out of you steadily, the sounds of your arousal filling the air. He pulls back from the kiss, allowing you to breathe.

“You’re always so wet for me.” He purrs, “I barely have to touch you and look at you, already falling apart for me”

You roll your eyes, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers curl up against your g-spot. A ragged moan spills from your lips as Vox uses his free hand to shove up your shirt and bra- exposing your breasts to him. The cold air makes your nipples stiffen as he closes his warm mouth around one of the sensitive buds, sucking and nipping at it. You cry out, your body tensing as each of his touches brings you closer to your edge.

“Cum for me, babydoll.” He whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

His fingers quicken inside you, his thumb flicking your clit in time with each pump. Vox pinches your nipple roughly, which sends you tumbling off that edge. Your back arches, hips rolling down against his hand as you cum around his fingers. He continues moving until he feels your body relax. Withdrawing his fingers, Vox slots himself between your legs. He freed himself quickly, the head of his cock pressing against your soaked entrance a moment later.

“Now for the real treat.” He smirked, sinking into you with one harsh thrust.

You cry out, your hands coming to grasp at his back as he sets a steady pace, his cock pistoning in and out of your wet heat with long thrusts. His bedroom filled with the wet slaps of your hips meeting over and over. His bed creaks underneath your combined weight, shaking with each thrust.

“Ff-uck!” Vox groans, his voice picking up feedback. “So fucking tight. You were made for me. Your cunt was made for me. Fucking tell me your cunt was made for me.”

His demand had your walls fluttering around his cock, arousal pooling in your gut.

“I-I’m yours.” You moan, gasping as his pace quickens. “I was made for you, Vox. Made to take your cock!”

“Damn right you were.” He growls, his hips snapping harshly against yours as he fucks you hard and fast. “You’re mine, mine to fuck, mine to breed.”

His words make you whimper, your walls fluttering around his cock more insistently as you steadily climb closer to another orgasm.

“Vox, please!” You gasp, rolling your hips down against his cock, meeting him thrust for thrust. “I need you.”

“You need me?” He prompts, “Is that all?”

“Need you to-ngh- I need you to fuck me.” You barely manage to gasp out, his thumb pressing against your clit roughly.

A cocky grin spreads across his face as he teases you, “I am fucking you, babydoll.”

You whine in frustration, snapping, “Fuck! I need you to cum inside me! I need you to fill me up, breed me! Knock me up!”

He chuckles, his hips stuttering, his breathing growing ragged. “There we go, that’s what I wanted to hear.”

Vox pushes your knees towards your chest, shifting you into a mating press. You cry out as he slips even deeper inside you, his cock kissing against your cervix with each thrust. His pace quickens, his balls slapping harshly against your ass.

“Vox, fuck, please.” You beg as the coil in your gut tightens. “I need you. I need you so much-”

“I know, doll.” He groans, “Fuck…I’m going to cum inside your tight cunt. Going to fill you up until you’re dripping with my seed.”

His words push you over the edge. You cry out, your body shaking with the intensity of your release. Your walls spasm around his cock, dragging him in deeper, squeezing him in a vice-like grip.

“Fuck!” Vox cries out, his hips stuttering as your release pulls him into his.

His screen crashes, a blue screen with white text sprawled across it replacing his face. The text read: “Vox.exe has crashed, if problem persists, please make sure all recent updates are installed. Crash code: Pussy_too_good.”

You giggle at the words, slowly coming down from your release, your cunt still pulsing around his cock. Vox’s breathing stabilizes, his face flickering back on after a moment.

“Fuck, doll.” He groans, letting your legs fall back to the bed as he slowly pulls from you. “You took me so well, took my cum so well.”

He watches his seed overflow from your pussy. Collecting what leaks from your used hole with his cock-head, he presses back inside you. He pushes his cum right back into your pussy, rocking his hips forward, slowly fucking his cum back inside you..

“A shame this won’t take.” He mutters, his cock hardening again. “I’d love to see you swell with our children.”

You ignore how his words cause your heart to skip a beat, reminding yourself that there was nothing more between you and Vox. You just happened to keep on ending up in his bed. Vox pulls you closer to him, rolling over onto his back. He drags you with him, chuckling as you whimper at the change of position. You were now on top of him, and yet, you still felt completely at his mercy. Vox continues to fuck up into you slowly, his touch soft and loving. And for a moment you allowed yourself to believe in that foolish hope.

“Vox,” You mummer, resting your head against his chest, wishing you could tell him how you felt about him. How you had fallen in love with him somewhere along the line.

“Mmn?” He acknowledges, thrusting up into you.

You lose your nerve and instead whisper, “I think I’m going to need you to breed me again.”

You press a kiss against his chest, cursing your cowardice as his cock twitched inside you.

He smirks, pulling you down into another searing kiss, “Gladly, doll.”

226 notes · View notes

gojhoes · 7 months ago

Text

"down bad"

"fuck it if i can't have us."

gojo was used to getting everything he wanted – clothes, sweets, fancy chairs; you name it, he had it. but you? he'd never wanted anything more in his entire life, and you were just out of his reach.

the two of you had shared the same apartment for six months shortly after being introduced by his friend, geto. a sweet smile, bedroom eyes, and cleverness which rivaled his own drew him to you. how convenient was it that both of you had been looking for a roommate at the exact same time?

you sat on the opposite end of the couch (his couch), sprawled out in a fashion that made your ass peek out from the hem of your shorts. just as he had done for the past year, gojo clenched his jaw with the effort it took not to stare. he dug his nails into his palms to take the edge off the desire to pull you into his lap and squeeze. he imagined, and not for the first time, how soft you'd feel grinding on his cock through the many cursed layers of clothing.

but it shouldn't be that way, because you were roommates– friends. it would be stupid to jeopardize such a thing but god, he wanted. the urge to say, 'fuck it' and confess his feelings overcame him once again coupled with a pounding heart. he opened his mouth to speak, your name forming on his lips–

and a sudden, simple announcement from you was enough to rob gojo of the last of his rationality.

"i have a date."

it was said with that pretty smile and genuine enthusiasm, and all gojo could feel was pure unbridled jealousy. who could possibly be making you blush like that? it hit him like a physical blow to the chest; you may as well have punched him in the gut.

"what?" the word came out harshly, much more than gojo knew he was entitled to, but it spilled out of him, nonetheless. "with who?"

you were visibly stunned by his response– gojo never raised his voice, never was cross with you. he was jovial, carefree, downright silly, never getting upset for any reason, not even when you drunkenly spilled a cocktail on his very expensive sofa. but even the most solid of foundations will crack after enough wear and tear.

since you'd moved in together, neither of you had brought someone home, and gojo had begun to think of you as his. incessant casual flirting, fleeting "accidental" touches, sharing the intimacies of mundane life– didn't that mean you wanted him, too?

you spit out some name that gojo didn't even hear, but he noticed the hesitation in your answer.

"no."

you blinked at him. "satoru?"

fuck it.

gojo closed the space separating you, crawling over your body and pinning you to the couch on your back. he plucked your phone from your hand and tossed it carelessly on the coffee table with a thud, earning a surprised squeak from you.

"satoru, what-" you were breathless, looking up into his eyes with panic.

he didn't bother to give a verbal response, instead leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. he half-expected you to shove him off, but pure excitement and possession blew through his chest when your hand slipped over the back of his neck to draw him closer.

"the only person you'll have a date with," satoru said. "is me."

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #part 1 methinks

437 notes · View notes

paperultra · 8 months ago

Text

HOME (TO THE OL’ BALL AND CHAIN)

(OR, THE PIÑA COLADA SONG)

Pairing: Chilchuck Tims x Fem!Chilchuck's Wife!Reader Word Count: 2,499 words Warnings: None Summary: Five years after leaving your first and only love, you take the plunge into the dating scene – and immediately regret it. Maybe you're too picky, but none of the men you go out with seem to fit the bill; they're too non-committal, or too eager, or too happy, or too sad, or simply just too much ... so after a particularly bad experience, your youngest makes a last-ditch effort to set you up on a blind date with someone who she insists deserves a chance. You reluctantly agree. read on ao3 | read on quotev

DATE #1: CASUAL LUNCH Estranged husband — 1 Estranged wife — 1 Everything left unsaid — as desired

There’s bacon grease on his shirt.

You can see it underneath his collar, round fingerprints staining the pale linen grey, and when he leans across the threshold into Fler’s home all you can think about is laundry day at the end of the week.

It would be rude to admit that out loud, though.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you say.

“When can I see you again?”

“I don’t know.”

Abelwood teeters forward still. “Well, don’t take too long, hear? You ain’t gettin’ any younger.”

Laughter erupts from the beer in his gut, and you laugh along with him. Abelwood is a rowdy drunk, you’ve learned, which is better than a cruel drunk or a lecherous drunk. It is not the kind of drunk that you are used to bringing home, even if he is only brought to the front door, but –

You smile, regardless.

“Goodnight,” you bid, closing the door inch by inch, your last bit of energy disappearing with the click of the lock.

You hold your breath. It takes three minutes and thirty-seven seconds for the man to leave your front doorstep, and you wait thirty more seconds after that to peek through the window, verifying that he is far enough away before resting your forehead against the door with a groan.

“Oh, boy.”

“I’m too old for this, Fler,” you mutter into the wood. “He was awful.”

Flertom lets out a sigh and closes the distance to squeeze you in a hug, pressing her cheek against your back like she’s done ever since she grew tall enough to do so. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she says.

“I’m sorry too.”

As you pat her hands and turn around to smile wryly at her, Puckpatti pipes up from the middle of the living room.

“He was a pig,” she exclaims. “Calling you by your first name! And he wasn’t even that handsome!”

“Looks aren’t everything, Puck,” you reply sharply, and she pouts, squeezing the lump of clay in her hands until it squishes out between her fingers. “He was a pig for the way he acted.”

“Well … that too.”

“He also smelled like one,” Fler says.

You detach yourself from your daughter to loosen the belt at your waist, frowning down at your dress and nice leather shoes. The dress feels just about as worn out as you do, the fabric soft and droopy from the humidity, the sunshine-yellow color less vibrant than it had been earlier this evening. The man had spilled beer on the floor of the bar and your shoes still look slightly sticky. Peeling them off just reminds you of the way he had laughed.

“Fler,” you say, “get me a wet rag, would you?”

“Sure, Mama.” Flertom turns to Puckpatti. “Puck, get a wet rag.”

“My hands are all dirty!” your youngest protests, showing her grey palms. “Mei’s closer to the water bucket.” She points to Meijack, who you now notice lingering by the kitchen.

Meijack blinks slowly, then silently fetches a rag, wets it, and brings it to you.

“Are you gonna keep trying, Ma?” she asks while you scrub the heel of your left shoe. “All these guys seem to be wasting your time.”

The chuckle that leaves your mouth is short and dry. “After this one, I don’t think so.” You glance up at your daughters and smile, straightening. “Maybe I should just take you all out on a girls’ date next time, huh? Forget about men for a little while.”

Meijack shrugs. Puckpatti nods eagerly.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong,” Flertom frets. “I’ve seen most of them at work before, and they seemed nice enough even when they were drunk …”

You shrug hopelessly and cross into the living room to sit on the couch. “Maybe it’s me.” As you lean back into the cushions, Meijack and Flertom join you on either side. “I’ve only ever been with one man my whole life. Maybe I don’t even know what I want …”

There’s a moment of silence. You look up at the ceiling of Flertom’s home, rubbing your temples and willing your frustration with yourself to not spill over while your daughters are watching. How embarrassing. Here you are, their mother, who is supposed to show them an example of a happy relationship, only for them to comfort you after another failed date. It should be the other way around. Half-foots don’t live long enough for things like this; your own mother had told you when you first left him that you should’ve just sucked it up.

Finally, Flertom speaks up. “Mama,” she starts, hesitant, and you look over to see her playing with her fingers, “Do you really want to date someone?”

“It’s been long enough, don’t you think?” you answer.

As you say so, a name resurfaces in your mind, unbidden, and the face that belongs to it. Your jaw tightens and you look down at your hands.

“Well … um … Papa wrote last week, and he said that he wanted to talk to you sometime. Just a little bit.”

Your tone hardens. “And what does that have to do with me dating, Fler?”

She flinches and her lips push out. “Come on, Mama! It’s been years, and after everything he went through, I really think he’s better now! Don’t you at least want to talk to him? You were so in love with each other before he started adventuring, and now that he’s retired from it …”

You hold your hand up, and her jaw clicks shut.

“I know what you’re getting at, Flertom,” you say quietly. “And right now is not the best time to bring up your father.”

Your daughter deflates, her cheeks rosy. “But –”

“I mean it.” Standing, you heave a deep breath and examine the cluttered workstation that Puckpatti had set up on the living room table. “Puckpatti, make sure to clean up after you’re done. I’m going to bed.”

While the girls mope, you head to your bedroom, doing your best to occupy your thoughts with work at the blacksmith’s tomorrow. You think about the chain mail you’re supposed to be making, the little metal rings to form and weave together, and hope they’re what you dream of, not self-absorbed dates or unwanted kisses.

You blame Flertom for the auburn hair and hearty laughs that plague your night instead.

—

A week later, Puckpatti accosts you as soon as you walk through the door.

“Mama, I found a man for you!”

“Oh?” you reply blandly, hand still clutching at your chest from having the living daylights scared out of it. “Who is it?”

“That’s a secret! But he’s really nice, I promise.”

Sighing, you remove your vest. “I don’t know, Puck. How did you meet him?”

“He bought one of my clay sticks.” You can’t stop yourself from frowning, despite your desire to support your daughter’s entrepreneurial spirit, and she giggles. “Oh, please, Mama, he didn’t believe my pitch. I think I just charmed him into buying it. He seems really clever!”

“Are you sure he wasn’t interested in you?”

She makes a disgusted face. “Eww! No, I told him about you and he seemed interested.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mama, you’re a catch. Of course he’d want to go on a date with you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, honey.” You glance at her before heading to the kitchen to put away the bread and cheese you’d bought. ��Is he a half-foot?”

“Maybe.”

“I thought I’d met all the half-foots in Kahka Brud.”

“Maybe he just moved here.”

She looks up innocently when you raise an eyebrow at her. “And you’re sure I’ll like him,” you drawl, more suspicious by the minute. (Of what, you’re not quite sure.)

“Positive.”

It is incredibly difficult, you think with equal parts pride and concern, to say no to your youngest daughter. It’s probably why you worry about her the most. “This is the last date I’ll go on, Puckpatti. It will be on you.”

Puckpatti cheers. She hugs you as you chuckle at her enthusiasm, jumping up and down. “Yay! I’ll get a time and day that’ll work best. It’ll be great! You’ll love him!”

“For your sake, I hope so.”

—

The day arrives with a mellow sun and clear sky.

You wear your green dress with the floral details, and Puckpatti picks a necklace to go along with it, a thin, simple one that you haven’t worn in years. Flertom does your makeup and Meijack does your hair.

And as you sit in a corner of the tavern fifteen minutes early, hands nervously clasped in your lap, you wonder, just as you have with every date prior, what you’ve gotten yourself into.

Maybe he won’t show up. It would be improper, and juvenile, but then you could go home and say that you did try. Your desire for a new romance has all but dwindled completely, and as you trace the scratches on the wooden table, you wonder if it was even a desire at all.

Footsteps approach from behind. You can tell they belong to a half-foot by the weight and sound – light and small – as they come around to the other side of the table. Your shoulders tighten. Forcing a smile, you look up.

Your heart promptly surges upward into your throat before plummeting to your toes.

Chilchuck gawks down at you, eyes wide. His mouth parts to utter your full name, and you feel your lungs squeeze at how it sounds coming from him, soft from years of disuse.

“You came,” he says.

“Chil – Chilchuck.” His name is ashy and sweet behind your teeth. “What are you doing here?”

He furrows his brow. “What do you mean? The girls said that you were willing to meet up.”

“No, I’m meeting with one of Puck’s customers.”

“What? That doesn’t …” he trails off, and the two of you seem to realize the same thing at the same time.

You bury your head in your hand as Chilchuck grits his teeth.

Those scheming …

“I’m sorry they dragged you into this,” you mutter as you get up from your seat, your voice cold and flat. “I’ll be going now.”

His head snaps up. “Going? But –”

You hurry past him, dodging the hand that you know has reached out for your own.

Home is a ten-minute walk away. You can clear your head in that time, then scold your daughters for meddling, though it’s partially your fault for not questioning Puckpatti about your supposed date more thoroughly. You just didn’t think that they would try something like this.

(Or that Chilchuck would bother to go along with it.)

You pull the door open with some effort and rush out into a downpour of rain.

Your hair gets drenched before you backpedal with a yelp. Pressing against the wall underneath the awning, you look out helplessly at the soaked streets, their gutters already filling with water and debris flowing down the incline. Is … is that a drowning rat?

The storm’s earthiness floods your nose, late in its prediction by half an hour. Just your luck.

You fumble with the clasp of your necklace to remove it, not wanting to get it wet. While you struggle, the tavern door creaks open behind you.

“So you don’t even want to talk. Even after all these years, you’re going to walk away again.”

“Do you know why I walked away the first time?” The damn thing won’t unhook. You scowl, the presence at your back making your usually nimble fingers clumsy.

“No,” Chilchuck says. “I don’t. Not for certain.”

“That’s why.” With each failed attempt to separate the rings, your fingertips grow sorer, your throat thickening. He’s too close. You hate how he’s watching you fail such a simple task. “You stopped knowing, Chilchuck. That’s why.”

Underneath the sharp sound of rain, you can hear his breath hitch, then quiet.

You bite your lip and let your arms fall to your sides, giving up on trying to take your necklace off. Your chest aches. You don’t want to cry in front of him.

“So, there, we talked like you wanted.”

He stops you before you can step out into the rain.

“Wait. What … what about your necklace?” he asks hesitantly, like it’s not what he really wants to say, but merely a way to stall for time.

This time, you look over your shoulder at him. “I’ll dry it real well once I get home,” you reply.

Chilchuck’s mouth presses into a fine line. He grabs the cloak folded over the crook of his elbow, and it is then that you notice the bouquet of blue and pink flowers in his other hand. The ache in your chest flares into a raw, pulsing hurt.

“I’m guessing you’d rather not have me walk you.” He speaks evenly, holding his cloak out towards you. “It’s not completely waterproof, but keep this over your head, at least …” his voice quiets, “please.”

Wordlessly, you take the garment from him. The inner lining is warm against your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you. “For not knowing.” His fist tightens around the flowers, and he stares at you resolutely. “I want to again, if you’ll let me.”

Ah.

You swallow. “I … I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t have to be today. I can wait.”

Breaking eye contact and looking down, Chilchuck roughs his fingers through his hair, mussing it up. The cut is the same as it’s always been, auburn bangs thick and soft over his brow. And you recognize the shirt he’s wearing, a practical, clean wool shirt that you made some years ago. He’s taken good care of it.

It’s all the same. All the same, and yet, something that you can’t quite identify has changed.

You bring his cloak closer to your chest and bite your bottom lip.

“… Give me a week.”

His entire body loses its tension.

“Really?” He looks at you like he can’t believe it, and you avert your gaze, ears warming and moving back the slightest bit.

“Give me a week to decide,” you clarify. “Fler or Mei will let you know … this is really abrupt, after all …”

Chilchuck nods. “That’s fine!” he exclaims. “You didn’t know, so I understand. A week is – a week’s good.”

You nod back, hesitant.

The rain continues its heavy downpour.

“Right … well …” you turn slightly, casting him one last glance, “I’ll give your cloak back, regardless. Don’t get sick.”

“Okay. Stay … stay safe.”

With that, you wrap yourself in the thick fabric, rushing out of the safety of the awning. The run back home smells of woodsmoke and thyme, and when you open the door to three guilty daughters and three apologies, it lingers.

You hang his cloak near the fireplace. It’s evidence of a weak resolve that you stay until it’s dry, and even more damning that you know your answer long before it is.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuk tims #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck #dungeon meshi fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #my emotional support middle-aged divorced father of three.......#throw this guy in a childhood friends to lovers to estranged lovers to lovers fic and see how he handles it #chilchuck's wife!reader let's gooooo

640 notes · View notes