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vunblr · 3 days ago

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To Mend a Soldier

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ (Masturbation). Slight angst. Comfort. Fluff.

Summary: Pressed by a worried Sam, Bucky reluctantly agrees to try an alternative -and, if you ask him, weird- therapy program: rent-a-mom. What starts as an obligation soon turns into something far more meaningful than he ever expected.

Word Count: About 20k.

note: Yeah… it’s a long one. This has been sitting in my folder for a while, and I couldn’t figure out where to split it, so here we are. Please don’t hate me! 😅 If you enjoy it, I’d really appreciate it if you could share or leave a comment, it means so much.

After everything he’d been through -Hydra, Zemo, Thanos, Steve’s departure, and now therapy with Dr. Raynor- Bucky still couldn’t seem to find peace. The nightmares remained, the guilt festered, and every glance he got on the street reminded him of who he used to be, not who he was trying to become. Trusting people felt impossible, and his defenses were built like steel walls.

Sam, however, refused to let him slip further into isolation. Over the past few months, he’d watched him struggle silently, shrugging off every attempt to help him open up. But The Falcon wasn’t one to give up easily.

One evening, while they were returning from a brief mission on a plane, he finally brought it up again.

“You ever thought about alternative therapy?” he asked casually, pressing a cooling bag over his shoulder.

Bucky didn’t even look up from where he was unlacing his boots. “What, like yoga?” His voice was flat and unimpressed. “I don’t bend that way.”

“No, not yoga.” Sam’s tone was patient like he was explaining something to a stubborn child. “It’s something some veterans are trying. Heard about it from a guy at the VA.”

“Right.” Bucky snorted. “Modern mumbo jumbo. What is it? Journaling? Crystals? Hugging trees?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s called rent-a-mom.”

That got Bucky’s attention. His head snapped up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Rent-a-what?”

“Rent-a-mom,” Sam repeated, biting back a grin at Bucky’s incredulous expression. “It’s this service where someone -usually a nice, older lady- comes to your place for a couple of hours a week. She cooks, chats, and keeps you company. Some guys use it to feel normal again, you know? A little comfort or emotional support, whatever you need, with no judgment.”

Bucky stared at him for a beat before deadpanning, “So you’re telling me to hire a prostitute.”

Sam threw his hands up in exasperation. “What is wrong with you man? No! That’s not what this is.”

“You sure? Because whatever I need, with no judgment sounds like you’re telling me to hire someone to-”

“Stop!” Sam cut him off, pointing a finger at him. “It’s not like that, okay? She works with vets all the time. You know, people like you who don’t trust anyone and think the world’s out to get them.

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. “Sounds like a scam.”

“It’s not a scam. I know a guy who uses her services. He says it’s the only thing that keeps him grounded some weeks. And it’s not just him. A lot of vets partaking on the program swear by it.”

Bucky grumbled under his breath, something about “modern nonsense” and “people these days.”

Sam sighed, leaning forward. “Look, man, I’m not saying it’s gonna fix all your problems. But what’s the harm in trying? One session. Worst-case scenario, you don’t like it, and you never call her again.”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t need some stranger poking around in my life.”

“She’s not gonna poke,” Sam insisted. “She’s just there to help. And let’s be real, you could use it. You’ve been holed up in that apartment for weeks. When’s the last time you had a real conversation with someone who wasn’t me or that Raynor bitch?”

Bucky didn’t answer, just tightened his jaw.

“Exactly,” Sam said, leaning back with a smirk. “Plus, you owe me for Redwing. That little stunt you pulled last week? Yeah, I’m still mad about that.”

“Cheap shot,” Bucky muttered, glaring at the floor.

“Call it whatever you want. You’re doing this.”

After a long, heavy pause, Bucky sighed. “Fine. One session. But if this is a waste of my time, I’m blaming you.”

Sam grinned, already pulling out his phone. “You’re gonna thank me when it works. Just wait.”

----

Bucky sat on the edge of his couch, glaring at his phone like it had personally wronged him. Sam had texted him the woman’s contact information a few hours ago, with an obnoxious winky face at the end. He couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be reassuring or not but either way, it made his skin crawl.

“Just one session,” he muttered, running his hand down his face. Sam’s words echoed in his head: “It’s not what you think, man. She’s just… good at what she does. People trust her.” Trust. Bucky scoffed. That wasn’t something he handed out easily anymore, but after the Redwing incident, Sam wasn’t going to let him live it down unless he followed through. Grimacing, he tapped out a message.

Hi. This is James Barnes. Sam Wilson gave me your contact information. He said you… help people. I’m interested in setting up a session. Let me know if you’re available.

He stared at the screen for a good minute before hitting send. The second the message left his phone, he regretted it.

What the hell am I doing?

His internal spiral was interrupted by a response. That was fast.

Hi, James! Thanks for reaching out. I’d be happy to help. How does Tuesday at 5 PM sound?

He frowned. No small talk? No questions? Just… straight to the point. It wasn’t what he’d expected, but he appreciated it.

Fine, he replied, then immediately felt like a jerk. Then he added a Thanks.

----

Thursday came too quickly. Bucky paced his apartment, tidying up out of sheer nervous energy. He wasn’t sure what to expect. What was this woman going to do? Make him tea? Lecture him on proper nutrition? Sam had called her a “mom-for-hire,” but the idea still sounded absurd.

At exactly 5 PM, there was a knock at the door. Bucky froze. For a split second, he considered pretending he wasn’t home. But he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and opened the door, noticing two things:

First, this Mom was not an older lady. Either Sam left out that critical detail, or she was some kind of evil witch who sucked the life force out of her victims to stay young.

Second, she was… nice to look at. He quickly chastised himself for the thought.

“Hi,” she said, in a warm but professional tone, like she’d done this a hundred times before. There was no hesitation in her posture, no uncertainty in her eyes. She shifted the bag on her shoulder and offered a small smile. “You must be James.”

“Bucky.” he corrected gruffly, crossing his arms and leaning slightly against the doorframe. “You’re not what I expected.”

Her smile doesn’t falter. “Let me guess. You were expecting someone older? Maybe with glasses and a knitting basket?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, not confirming but not denying either.

She lets out a soft laugh. “I get that a lot.”

The silence stretched between them, and then he realized he was just standing there, blocking the doorway like an idiot. He stepped aside, muttering a “Come in.”

She entered the apartment, glancing around the living room as she set her bag down, taking in the stark, utilitarian setup. A couch, a small TV on a stand, and little else. The dining table was non-existent, replaced by a counter with two bar stools. “This is… cozy,” she said diplomatically, gesturing at the space.

Bucky’s lips twitched in a faint smirk. “It works.”

She hummed in response, her gaze falling to the small stack of books on the coffee table. A couple of dog-eared crime novels sat next to a remote. There wasn’t much else to indicate anyone truly lived here. No photos, no clutter, just the bare essentials.

He folded his arms again, hovering near the door as if he wasn’t sure whether to close it or bolt. “Look, I don’t need the whole... whatever it is you do. Sam talked me into this, so don’t feel like you have to stick around for too long.”

She didn’t seem fazed by his awkward brusqueness. Instead, she just nodded and set the bag down on his counter. She began unpacking a few items, ingredients, it looked like.

“So,” she said, turning to him with an easy smile. “What’s on the agenda for today? You tell me what you need, and we’ll go from there.”

What he needed? Hell if he knew.

“Uh…” He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t… really know how this works.”

“That’s okay,” she reassured, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “We can start small. How about I make us something warm to eat while we talk?”

Talk. Right. He could handle that. Probably. And the food didn’t sound half bad either.

“Sure,” he said, with a softer tone now. He hesitated before adding, “Thanks.”

She smiled at him again and reached into her bag, pulling out a neatly folded apron. Without hesitation, she slipped it over her summer dress, tying the strings behind her back. The casual way she moved threw him off; she already seemed at ease in his space, which was more than he could say for himself.

“Is there anything you don’t like to eat?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen.

Bucky blinked at her like she’d just asked him if he believed in unicorns. “Anything I don’t like?” His eyebrows lifted, clearly baffled by the concept.

“Yes,” she replied with a small laugh, looking back at him as if to say she was serious.

He gave a short huff, leaning against the counter, his lips twitching with faint amusement. “Doll, I grew up in the Depression. You ate what you got and licked the plate clean.”

She froze mid-step, her hands moving to her hips as she turned to face him fully. “Okay, first of all, you don’t ‘doll’ your mother,” she said, her tone firm but with a playful edge. “So let’s make it clear: that won’t be a thing between us.”

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing slightly in mild surprise at her sudden, slightly commanding tone.

“And second,” she continued, crossing her arms as if daring him to argue, “we’re not in the Depression anymore. So, humor me and tell me if there’s anything you don’t like.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the smallest hint of a smirk appearing as he quirked an eyebrow at her. She wasn’t what he’d expected. Not even close.

“Guess I’ll have to think about it,” he muttered with the faintest trace of amusement.

She rolled her eyes, tying the apron snugly around her waist. “Well, then tell me what you do like, so I can see if I can pull it off with what we’ve got.”

He hesitated, darting away his gaze as if the question required more thought than it should. Finally, he mumbled, “Potatoes?”

Her lips twitched with amusement. “Lucky for you, I brought some with me.” She nodded toward another bag she’d left near the door.

Bucky watched as she moved around his kitchen, opening cabinets and peeking into drawers. It was strange seeing someone else handle his things like they belonged there.

She moved to his fridge next, tugging it open, and froze. For a long moment, she just stared, her head tilting slightly. “Huh.”

Bucky frowned, leaning to the side to see what had caught her attention. “What?”

She stepped back, gesturing inside with a wooden spoon she’d plucked from the counter. “The two plums are fine, but that sad, dried-out lemon is holding on by a thread, and…” Her nose wrinkled as she peered at a container shoved in the back. “I don’t even want to guess what’s in that tupperware.”

He shifted as his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s probably still good.”

“Bucky.” She turned to him, one brow arched and her tone matter-of-fact. “We’re going to have to make a shopping list if these visits are going to continue. Unless you’re planning to survive off potatoes and mystery leftovers?”

His lips twitched again, but he didn’t say anything, just shrugged.

“I’ll take that as agreement,” she said, grabbing the potatoes she’d brought with her and setting them on the counter. “For now, I’ll work some magic with these and whatever’s actually edible in here.”

He smirked faintly, leaning against the counter as he watched her sort through his kitchen again with an air of efficiency like she’d done this a thousand times before.

At some point, she straightened up and caught his gaze. “You didn’t say anything yet,” she said, leaning a little on the counter. “but I assume you have questions about what I do?”

He shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck as if buying time. “Sam told me something… about cooking and talking,” he muttered hesitantly. Then he glanced away, subtly implying that he didn’t expect much beyond that.

She didn’t rush him, waiting patiently for him to finish. When he fell silent, she let out a soft chuckle and grabbed a cutting board from the counter. “I have a proper job, you know,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “At a bookstore. This…” she continued, gesturing vaguely toward the room, “is just something I’ve been doing for a couple of years now. It started when a lady from the program came into the shop looking for books to read to her son before nap time.” She paused, her lips curving in a small, amused smile. “The thing is, this lady was, well… let’s just say she was quite old to have a little kid. She must have seen the look on my face because she told me about this initiative she was part of.”

Bucky tilted his head, curiosity tugging at his otherwise guarded expression. “And you signed up?”

“Eventually,” she admitted, peeling one of the potatoes with practiced ease. “I kept running into her, and she’d stop by the store to chat about how the reading sessions were going, how much her ‘kid’ enjoyed them.” She made air quotes with her fingers, smirking. “Turned out, her kid was a Vietnam vet. He was struggling with some things, and she was helping him feel more grounded.”

Bucky arched his brows.

“Exactly,” she said, laughing softly. “I thought it was strange at first, too, but the more I learned, the more I realized how much of a difference it can make for some people.” She paused, setting the peeler down and turning to fully face him, with a softer expression now. “There’s something about the kind of comfort a mother gives, something other roles just… don’t quite reach.”

Bucky tilted his head slightly, furrowing his brow.

“You’ve probably seen it,” she continued, “Soldiers in their last moments, calling for their moms. Or when they’re delirious with fever or pain, their minds go back to a time when they felt safe, protected, and cared for. It’s not about the specific person, it’s the feeling. That deep-rooted need to know someone’s there for you, no matter what.”

His jaw tightened, and his gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before flicking back to her. She didn’t miss the shift in his expression, a flicker of recognition, a shadow of memory.

“I’m not saying I’m trying to be anyone’s mother,” she added quickly, offering him a gentle smile to lighten the mood. “But sometimes people just need a little bit of that energy in their life, you know? A chance to feel… safe.”

Bucky’s mouth pressed into a thin line, stiffening briefly before he exhaled, his relaxing his shoulders just a fraction. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of her words lingered in the air between them.

He had to admit it sounded... nice. Having someone to turn to when things got… when you couldn’t breathe. When the world felt too heavy and every corner of your mind was filled with noise you couldn’t escape. But just as that thought settled in, his defenses kicked in, sharp and automatic.

He scoffed, the sound coming out a little too rough, a little too biting. “And then what? You cuddle on the couch, singing a lullaby?”

Her hands stilled, and she turned to look at him, meeting his gaze. There was no annoyance in her expression, no judgment. Just a calmness that made him feel even more off-balance.

“If that’s what you need,” she said simply, “then yes.”

For a moment, he was stunned into silence, caught off guard. There was no sarcasm, no condescension, just a sincerity that felt almost disarming.

His eyes darted away as he shifted his weight, the corners of his mouth twitched in an effort to form a response. But for once, words failed him, leaving only the quiet hum of the kitchen and the soft clatter of her returning to the potatoes.

“There are some info sheets and forms in the bag,” she said, nodding toward her tote. “If you want to read and complete them while I do this.” She gestured as she resumed working on the potatoes.

Bucky hesitated, flicking his gaze between her and the bag. “What’s the payment?” he asked gruffly, trying to keep his voice casual. “In case… in case I might be interested.”

She paused for a beat, then glanced over her shoulder with a small smile. “I don’t charge veterans,” she said simply.

He blinked, clearly taken aback. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Finally, he managed, “Sam didn’t… didn’t tell me that.”

“Well,” she said, setting the knife down for a moment and turning fully to face him, “to be fair, Sam told me a little about you.”

At the slight stiffness that crept into his expression, she quickly added, “Just… basic things.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m already working with someone who’s… retired now, and I wasn’t sure about having two ‘sons’ in the same department, so to speak.”

She hesitated, studying his face for a moment before continuing. “But when he told me who you were… I didn’t doubt it for a second. You’re a hero, you know?”

He seemed surprised by the statement, his brows knitting together as if trying to make sense of her words. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. Finally, he grumbled, “Don’t know about that, but thanks.”

She smiled softly, “Don’t thank me, sweetheart. I’m just stating the obvious.” With that, she turned back to the cooking, leaving Bucky standing there, uncomfortably aware of the unexpected swell of gratitude threatening to creep past his defenses.

He then opened the tote bag and pulled out a neatly organized folder. Inside, there were several documents, each clipped together in its own section. He skimmed over the first page, a set of “basic rules” clearly outlined at the top.

His brow furrowed slightly as he read. Boundaries: He would only call her “Mama” or some other variant, never her name, an instruction that immediately made his stomach twist with both unease and an odd sense of reassurance. The point was clear: this wasn’t a friendship or anything else ambiguous. It was meant to define their dynamic firmly.

Further down, he saw a list of do’s and don’ts regarding acceptable forms of touching. The wording was straightforward but gentle, ensuring the rules were understood without feeling restrictive. A clause about privacy caught his attention: Everything discussed during their sessions would remain strictly confidential. Nothing said between them would be disclosed, ever.

He sighed and leaned against the counter, flipping to the next section. The forms included a series of questions: What would you expect from these sessions? What would you prefer not to happen? What are your favorite comforts? Least favorite?

The questions made him uncomfortable. What did he expect? Hell if he knew. What would he even put down for “favorite comforts”? He tapped the pen against the counter, unsure where to start.

When he finally glanced back at her, she was chopping the potatoes with practiced ease. “And what happens after I fill this out?” he asked, trying to sound neutral.

“Once the forms are completed and signed,” she said without turning around, “I’ll be in charge of the dynamic.” She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder with a small smile. “After all, Mama knows best.”

Her tone was light, teasing, but the words landed heavier than she might have realized. Bucky stared at the form again, feeling the faintest flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe trust. Maybe just exhaustion. Either way, the weight of his pen didn’t feel as heavy anymore.

“You don’t have to sign it right now,” she said, washing her hands and wiping them on a towel. Turning back to him, she added, "Maybe wait and see how this goes first?" then, she walked toward the living room and perched on the edge of the couch patting the spot next to her. “Sit. You can tell me about your week while the potatoes cook… if you want.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the couch like it might be a trap. Finally, he crossed the room, lowering himself onto the seat beside her. The couch dipped under his weight, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed a hand over his face. The silence hung between them, save for the faint sound of traffic through the window. After a moment, he started to bounce his knee.

She noticed the motion and glanced at him, her gaze drifting lower. That’s when it hit her, the long-sleeved henley and the glove on his hand. The room wasn’t exactly cold. In fact, with the oven going and the potatoes roasting, it was comfortably warm.

Her brows knitted together. “Bucky,” she started carefully, with a light tone, “you know by now that I knew who you were before I knocked on your door, right?”

He turned his head slightly, not quite meeting her eyes but acknowledging her words with a small grunt.

“So… don’t you want to change into something less... suffocating?” She gestured loosely at his shirt. “I mean, it’s hot in here.”

His knee stopped bouncing. He straightened slightly but didn’t respond right away. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw worked like he was weighing his next move.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, his voice gruff. He didn’t sound angry, just… uncertain.

“It’s not fine,” she countered gently. “You’ll overheat sitting here like that. Besides, I thought we were working on this whole... trust thing since you know… the mom thing?”

Her words hung in the air, and for a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, with a deep breath, Bucky pushed himself to his feet, heading toward the hallway. He muttered something under his breath that she didn’t catch, but the slight hunch of his shoulders told her he was uncomfortable. Still, he disappeared into the bedroom, and she heard the sound of a drawer opening.

When he returned a few minutes later, he was wearing a soft, dark gray T-shirt. He paused in the doorway, his eyes flicking to her briefly before he sat back down, this time leaning into the couch instead of perching on the edge.

“Better?” he asked, his tone dry but not harsh.

“Much better,” she replied, a smile tugging at her lips.

Bucky didn’t say anything, but his shoulders seemed to relax just a fraction. The oven timer went off in the kitchen, breaking the moment, and she stood, giving him a reassuring pat on the knee as she passed by.

As she checked the food with her back turned to him, she spoke casually, “Sam said you’ve been having a rough time lately.”

Bucky frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Sam talks too much.”

Her lips quirked in a small smile, though she didn’t turn around. “He’s worried about you.”

“He doesn’t need to be,” Bucky muttered.

“Maybe not. But he is. And from what I can tell, he’s the kind of person who acts on that worry.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m not here to pry.”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed slightly, and his jaw tightened. “Then why are you here?” The question came out sharper than he intended, his voice low and clipped, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she turned off the stove, wiped her hands on a towel, and finally faced him.

“Why am I here?” she echoed with a calm tone. “One, because you texted. And two…” She crossed the room slowly, stopping a few feet from the couch. Her gaze softened, her head tilting slightly. “Sometimes, it helps to have someone around. Someone who’s not a therapist or a friend who knows too much. Just… someone.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His expression was unreadable, but she could see the gears turning in his head. She approached the couch and sat down beside him, leaving just enough space to avoid crowding him but close enough to offer her quiet support.

Bucky shifted slightly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together tightly. The silence between them stretched, but it didn’t feel heavy. It felt like an invitation for him to speak if he wanted to, no pressure, no expectations.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said finally, almost in a grumble.

“I know.” Her reply was soft, almost instinctive. “It’s okay.”

His shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and for the first time that evening, he glanced at her directly. There was a hint of something vulnerable in his expression. Hesitation, perhaps.

“It’s just…” he started, his voice trailing off as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a lot lately. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Just where you feel like it, I’ll be here to listen. And if you don’t want to talk, that is fine too, one doesn’t tell everything to their mom, hm?” she assured gently.

The timer beeped from the kitchen again, cutting through the moment. She reached over, giving his forearm a brief, reassuring squeeze before standing. “Let me get that before the potatoes burn.” As she moved toward the kitchen, she glanced back at him with a small smile. “Think about it, Bucky. No rush.”

He watched her retreat, his chest feeling a little lighter, though he couldn’t quite explain why.

When she called from the kitchen, cheerfully announcing that dinner was almost ready, he found himself answering without thinking. “Smells good.”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

He pushed himself off the couch with a grunt and crossed the short distance to the kitchen in a few long strides. Without a word, he started opening cabinets and drawers, pulling out a couple of plates and utensils to set up at the counter.

“Oh, such a good boy!” she teased warmly.

He paused, shooting her a look over his shoulder, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and embarrassment. “It’s just the right thing to do,” he muttered gruffly, his ears tinged faintly pink.

She bit back a smile as she pulled the tray of potatoes from the oven, the aroma filling the small kitchen. As she set the tray down, she reached for the fridge and produced a small bowl of creamy dip, placing it on the counter beside the potatoes.

Bucky quirked a brow with evident curiosity.

“What?” she asked playfully. “These aren’t your Depression potatoes. They’ve got a little twist.”

He snorted softly, shaking his head. “A twist, huh?”

“Just a little sour cream, and the spices are courtesy of your kitchen,” she said, ladling the potatoes onto a serving dish with practiced ease. “Trust me, they’ll still taste like home. Just… a little fancier.”

Bucky glanced at the bowl again, his lips twitching in faint amusement. “Fancy potatoes,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Hey,” she countered, setting the dish in the middle of the counter with a flourish. “Even tough guys like you deserve something nice now and then.”

He didn’t respond right away, but as he pulled out a stool at the counter and sat, there was a flicker of something lighter in his eyes. “Guess we’ll see if they live up to the hype.”

She handed him a fork, with a widening smile. “Challenge accepted.”

For the first time that evening, the atmosphere in the room felt less heavy. The clinking of utensils and the scent of roasted potatoes mingled with the faintest hum of unspoken understanding.

“Not bad,” Bucky admitted after his first bite, begrudging but carrying a hint of approval.

“Not bad?” she echoed, raising a brow. “I’ll take that as high praise.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upward, and for a fleeting moment, it almost looked like he might smile.

They made small talk while they ate, keeping the conversation light. She asked about the crime novels on his side table, and he asked -grudgingly- what kind of twist she had planned for the next meal, implying she might want to poison him. Despite himself, Bucky found the interaction strangely… normal. He wasn’t used to normal, but he didn’t hate it.

When they finished, he stood and began gathering the dishes. She protested at first, but he waved her off. “It’s what my Ma would have expected anyway,” he said matter-of-factly.

He’d just started scrubbing the first plate when her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at the screen, then at the clock, letting out a soft sigh. “Well, Buck, it seems our two hours are up.”

Bucky froze and his hand gripped the plate under the warm water. Then he nodded once. “I see…”

She leaned against the counter next to him, watching him carefully. “So, um… what do you want to do? Will you read the forms and consider starting this little journey together, or would you rather not see my face again?” She smiled softly. “Which I’d totally understand if that’s the case.”

He didn’t respond immediately, focusing instead on rinsing the plate and setting it on the drying rack. For a moment, the only sound was the rush of water and the faint hum of the fridge. It was as if he was battling with himself, his tension was visible in the way his shoulders hunched and his jaw clenched. Finally, he let out a long breath and turned to face her. His hand raked through his hair.

“I... I want this, I think,” he stated. Then, almost immediately, he added, “I can step out whenever I want, right?”

Her smile softened as she reached for his vibranium hand, her fingers resting lightly against the cool metal. “Yes, Bucky. You can step out whenever you want. No pressure, no expectations. This is for you, on your terms.”

He nodded slightly, his eyes flicking down to where her hand rested on his before shifting back to meet her gaze.

“Just take your time filling out the questionnaire, think the answers carefully” she continued, warmly but matter-of-fact. “and, whenever you’re ready, snap a picture and send it to me. No rush.”

“Okay,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Also…” She tilted her head. “How many days a week do you want me here?”

Bucky blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. He shifted slightly, glancing away as if considering his answer. “Uh… two, I guess?”

“Two it is,” she said with a small nod, releasing his hand and grabbing her bag from the counter. “You’re calling the shots, Buck. You just let me know if that changes.”

He didn’t respond right away, but as she slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way toward the door, he called out in a low tone. “Thanks.”

She paused, glancing back at him with a smile. “Anytime.”

As the door closed behind her, Bucky stood there for a moment, staring at the now-empty space she’d left behind.

Almost three minutes after she left, his phone buzzed on the counter, the screen lighting up with a notification. He didn’t have to check to know who it was. Sure enough, the preview of the text confirmed it: Sam. The string of emojis accompanying the message made Bucky’s scowl deepen as he stared at the screen.

🤔💪👍👵🍲

“What the hell does that even mean?” he muttered to himself, swiping the phone off the counter and locking it without reading the full message. The last thing he needed was Sam’s smug commentaries right now.

He set the phone down a little harder than necessary and decided to distract himself the only way he knew how: by scrubbing himself clean. Grabbing a towel, he headed to the bathroom, peeling off his T-shirt on the way. The promise of a hot shower sounded like the closest thing to clarity he might find tonight.

But as the water beat down on his skin, his thoughts drifted back to the folder she’d left behind. The questionnaire seemed simple on the surface, but for a man like him, answering those kinds of questions wasn’t easy.

What comforts you?

The question alone made him bristle. Comfort wasn’t something he’d thought about in decades. Comfort was… a luxury, a distraction, a weakness. At least, that’s what they always told him and he still couldn’t shake that feeling.

The thought of filling out that damn paper felt heavier than any mission he’d been assigned. He’d rather face a bullet in his leg than sit down and figure out what he wanted.

He leaned his head against the shower tiles, the warmth of the water doing little to ease the tension coiling in his chest. Maybe he’d give himself a day. Or two. Hell, maybe a week. She’d said no rush, after all.

And if he didn’t send it? Well, it wasn’t like she’d show up uninvited. He could still back out.

He turned off the water with a sharp twist, the sudden silence leaving him alone with his thoughts. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped out, glancing toward the closed door of his bedroom where the folder waited.

----

It had taken Bucky two weeks to fill out the forms. Two long, painstaking weeks of sitting at his couch, pen in hand, staring at questions that felt more like traps than prompts. He’d forced himself to be thorough, thinking carefully about each subject.

What makes you feel safe? What comforts you? What do you need from me?

How do you want to be called as an endearment?

He’d tried to approach it with an open mind, though the process made him cringe more than once. Admitting what he needed -or even what he was willing to permit- felt like baring himself in a way that left him raw.

But he finished. He signed the papers, scanned them with his phone, and sent the file off with an unceremonious text:

Here. Let me know if it’s fine.

Her reply had been immediate and cheerful: Got it! Looks perfect. See you Tuesday.

----

When Tuesday came, she arrived at his building, juggling a tote bag filled with what she liked to call her “comfort supplies.” A neighbor leaving the building had held the door open for her, a kind but overly trusting gesture.

Not a very safe thing to do, she thought as she stepped inside. But I’m not going to complain.

She reached his door, knuckles rapping lightly against it. “Bucky? It’s me.”

No answer.

She frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time. “Bucky, you there?”

Still nothing.

She pulled out her phone and sent him a quick message: Hey, I’m here! A moment later, her phone buzzed with the dreaded notification: Message failed to deliver.

Her frown deepened. She tried calling, but the call went straight to voicemail. A sinking feeling settled in her chest as she pressed her ear to the door, listening intently.

Nothing. No footsteps. No muffled noises. Just silence.

She sighed, leaning back against the wall. Maybe something had come up. Maybe he’d changed his mind and didn’t know how to tell her.

She checked her watch. Twenty minutes had passed, and she still hadn’t heard a peep from him. With a reluctant shake of her head, she turned and walked toward the elevator, her footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet hallway.

-----

A couple of hours later, Bucky dragged his feet through the corridor. His nose throbbed painfully, a reminder of the last few days he’d spent dealing -again- with enhanced assholes who seemed to have gotten their hands on some variant of the serum.

The faint metallic scent of dried blood clung to him, mingling with the sweat and grime of too many hours spent in the open. His brows furrowed, eyes heavy-lidded as he scanned the hallway out of habit. That’s when he spotted it, a small bag made of cloth sitting neatly at his doorstep.

He paused, taking a moment to connect the dots through the haze of exhaustion.

Fuck.

He let out a slow, frustrated exhale, running a hand over his face and wincing as the dried cut on his cheek tugged painfully. Of course, this would happen. Of course, he’d mess this up right out of the gate.

Bending down, he picked up the bag, holding it gingerly in his hands like it might scold him. The fabric was soft and patterned with small flowers, something that felt almost absurdly out of place against his bloodstained hands and the concrete walls of the hallway.

He peeked inside, and his chest tightened. A handful of sugar babies’ packages into view, the bright yellow being a jarring contrast to the dull exhaustion weighing him down.

What were your favorite sweets as a child?

The questionnaire echoed in his head, and his stomach twisted. He hadn’t even realized he’d written those down until now.

Straightening up, he glanced down the hallway toward the elevator, tightening his grip on the bag. What kind of impression was this supposed to leave? Forgetting the session entirely, not answering the door, not even leaving a message…

He groaned, leaning back against his door and glaring down at the bag like it held all the answers to his failures.

After a long moment, he nested the bag into the crook of his arm, fumbled with his keys, and let himself into the apartment.

The silence inside was deafening. He placed the bag of candies on the counter and reached for his phone, dead as expected. He plugged it into the charger with a sigh, running a hand through his hair before peeling off his ruined clothes. The bloodstained shirt landed in a heap on the floor as he pulled his knives and gun from their holsters and set them down on the counter next to the flower-patterned bag.

The juxtaposition was almost laughable. The hard edges of his weapons, worn and familiar, sat starkly against the soft, cheerful fabric of the bag.

It didn’t feel right, to see them in the same space.

But he was too tired to care for the moment.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky leaned against the counter, lingering his gaze on the bag of candies. He reached inside and pulled out one of the packages, turning it over in his fingers like it was something fragile. For a moment, he just stood there, as the weight of the past days pressed down on him.

Finally, he tore the wrapper open, popped one caramel into his mouth, and let the sugary sweetness dissolve on his tongue. It wasn’t much. But somehow, it tasted like a small piece of something he’d forgotten he needed.

-----

It was late afternoon when her phone buzzed with a message. She picked it up from the table, brushing across the screen to read it.

Just one word: Sorry.

She stared at the message for a moment, tightening her grip on the device. Well, at least it didn’t seem like he’d changed his mind entirely. That was something.

Are you okay?

The reply didn’t come right away. The minutes stretched, and she found herself glancing at the screen every few moments. Finally, the phone buzzed again, and she read his response:

I don’t know.

Her chest ached at the honesty of those three words. Biting her lip, she typed her reply carefully.

Do you want me to come over?

The dots indicating he was typing blinked, disappeared, and then reappeared. His answer came back after what felt like an eternity.

You don’t have to.

She frowned, her thumbs flew across the keyboard.

That is not what I asked, Bucky.

Another pause. This one was longer. The late afternoon sun painted her walls in streaks of orange and gold, but she barely noticed, since her attention was fixed on the phone in her hands.

Finally, he replied.

Yes.

Her shoulders relaxed as she exhaled. Without hesitation, she grabbed her bag, slid her phone into her pocket, and headed for the door.

-----

Her gaze widened when she saw Bucky’s face as he opened the door. A nasty cut marred the already purpled skin of his cheek, his nose looked bruised, his lower lip was split, and scrapes littered his flesh arm. His expression and the slump of his shoulders only added to the picture of someone who’d been through a lot.

He must have noticed her stare because the first thing out of his mouth was, “You should see the other guys.”

She clicked her tongue in exasperation, her hand motioning firmly toward him. “Move. Let me in.”

Bucky stepped aside, his expression hovered somewhere between guilt and defiance. She entered without waiting for another invitation, her sharp eyes already scanning the room. “Did you clean the wounds?”

He shrugged nonchalantly as if it weren’t worth mentioning. “I took a shower…”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a long, deliberate sigh. “That’s not… no. That doesn’t count. Where is your first aid kit?”

He looked at her like she’d grown another head. “Doll, all this is going away in three days, tops. Courtesy of the serum.”

Her gaze snapped to his, sharp enough to freeze hell over. “Where. Is. It. And how did you just call me?”

Bucky’s mouth opened, then shut, and he swallowed audibly. “M-ma,” he mumbled, his eyes darting to the floor like a chastised child.

“That’s what I thought.” She folded her arms, with a tone that brooked no argument. “I assume you have that thing in the bathroom.”

“I told you, it’s not neces-”

That look again. He stopped mid-sentence, his shoulders slumping as he relented. “Yes.”

“Good,” she said briskly, already heading toward the bathroom without waiting for further direction. “Stay put. I’ll handle this.”

Bucky stared after her, his mouth twitching as if he wanted to argue but thought better of it. With a quiet groan, he leaned against the counter, muttering under his breath, “You should really see the other guys…”

But even as he said it, he found himself oddly relieved that she was there.

“Sit on the chair so I can see you better”, her voice came calm but firm from his side as she gestured to the single chair against the wall.

Bucky hesitated for half a second before complying, dragging the chair forward slightly and lowering himself onto it.

She knelt slightly in front of him, brushing her fingers lightly over the bruised and battered skin of his face. “This surely must hurt,” she said softly. “You don’t have to act all rough with me.”

He didn’t answer, clenching his jaw ever so slightly. Not to brush off the pain, not to admit that it hurt. He just stayed silent, with his gaze fixed somewhere beyond her shoulder.

With gentle care, she dabbed at his cheek with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic. The sharp, chemical smell hit the air immediately, and Bucky flinched, pressing his lips into a thin line.

She paused, knitting her brows in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, but the tightness in his voice betrayed him.

Her gaze stayed patient but unyielding. “Bucky.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes flicking away from hers before returning. “I don’t like the smell,” he admitted, almost in a whisper.

She stilled, hovering her hand in midair. “Why?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze grew distant, and his expression went clouded as if he were somewhere else entirely. When he finally spoke, his voice was even quieter, tinged with something raw and broken.

“Spent a lot of years smelling that shit,” he said, with words that carried too much weight. “Couldn’t drink a glass of water without a command. Couldn’t… do anything. And that smell… it was always there. Always.”

Her heart ached at the admission, but she didn’t let it show on her face. Instead, she lowered the cotton ball, letting him see her hands move it out of the way. “Okay,” she said softly. “We’ll rinse the cuts with water instead. No more of this stuff.”

He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly as he looked at her. “You don’t have to-”

“I know I don’t,” she interrupted gently. “But I’m here to help you, honey, not to make things harder.”

He swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded. He didn’t say anything else, but the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

By the time she finished tending to his wounds, Bucky was leaning heavily against the chair, with drooping eyelids. The tension in his frame had loosened ever so slightly, his exhaustion was clear in the way he blinked sluggishly at the floor.

She stood and began gathering the supplies, placing them neatly back into his first aid kit. “I’m going to make you something to eat,” she said firmly, already planning a quick meal to get something nutritious in him.

“Not now,” he murmured, barely lifting his head.

She turned toward him with a frown. “Bucky, you’ve probably gone days without eating anything that isn’t complete garbage. You need-”

“I just…” His words came out with difficulty, like they were being dragged out of him. He rubbed his flesh hand over his face “I just want you close.” his voice was quieter now, almost pleading.

Her expression softened instantly. Nodding, she stepped closer, reaching for his vibranium hand. She wrapped her fingers around the cool metal and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Come on. Let’s sit on the couch.”

She guided him the short distance toward the living room and he followed with slow, dragging steps. Once they reached the couch, she looked at him with patience. “What do you need?”

Bucky hesitated and his throat worked as if he were trying to swallow his pride. His eyes flicked to her, then away again, his mouth opening and closing like he was fighting himself. Finally, he let out a soft, almost defeated sigh.

“I… I want to lean my head on your lap, Mama,” he admitted almost shakily.

She smiled softly, not saying anything that might make him feel more self-conscious. She just nodded and sat at one end of the couch, patting her thighs gently to indicate he should lie down.

Bucky followed, his movements stiff and hesitant as he eased himself onto the couch. He stretched out his long torso, his head tentatively resting on her lap. He stayed tense for a moment, as if bracing for something, though even he wasn’t sure what.

She started running her fingers through his short hair, brushing the strands back in slow, rhythmic motions. “It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re okay.”

The tension in his shoulders began to melt, and his breathing slowed as her fingers worked through his hair with careful, deliberate strokes. He closed his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh as his body finally surrendered to a comfort he hadn’t let himself feel in years.

-----

After two months of visits, she was surprised one day to find an old oak dining table in Bucky’s apartment. It was small but sturdy, with matching chairs tucked neatly under it. The single chair he’d once had was nowhere in sight.

She stepped closer, running her hand along the smooth wood. “This is lovely,” she said, her tone genuinely appreciative.

Bucky stood nearby, with his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight slightly. He glanced at her, then at the table, mumbling, “It was time for me to have one.”

She turned to him with a smile. “Well, it makes the place look more like a home now. You know,” she added thoughtfully, “I have a tablecloth about this size at home that I don’t use. I could bring it next time, if you’d like.”

Bucky hesitated, furrowing his brows slightly as if considering her offer. “About that…” he started, a little unsure.

She waited patiently, giving him time to express what he wanted to say.

“I want to start…” He paused, searching for the right words. “making this place more... like someone is living here.”

“Like a home?” she prompted gently.

“Y-yeah.” He looked down, scratching at the back of his neck. “Besides that hut in Wakanda… it’s been a lifetime since I had a place to… a… a home.”

Her heart ached at his admission, but she didn’t push. Instead, she stepped closer and gently rested her hand on his arm. “That sounds very hard, sweetheart.”

Bucky didn’t deny or confirm her statement, just gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“I was wondering…” he began, his voice steadier now. “If next time, we could schedule an earlier time to see each other. And maybe…” He hesitated, glancing at her as if bracing for her reaction. “Maybe you could come with me to help me buy some things?”

Her smile widened, her hand giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “That sounds great, honey.” Then, she added warmly but firmly, “Just remember, this is your home. You have to choose what you think suits you.”

Her words were a reminder of the boundaries they’d set, of the balance they were working toward. Still, they carried enough warmth to let him know she’d be there for him.

After discussing the table and his plans to make the apartment feel more like a home, she glanced around the space and tilted her head thoughtfully. “You know,” she said lightly, “a good table deserves a little cleanup around it. How about we tidy up a bit?”

Bucky frowned, sweeping his gaze over the room. “It’s not that bad.”

She gave him a pointed look, walking toward a pile of mail and random odds and ends stacked on the counter. “It’s not terrible, but a little organizing wouldn’t hurt. Come on, help me out.”

He followed her reluctantly, muttering something under his breath about bossy moms.

She smirked but didn’t rise to the bait, handing him a small stack of papers. “Sort these, bills, junk, whatever doesn’t need to be here,” she instructed, already reaching for a rag to wipe down the counter.

As they worked, the task settled into an easy rhythm. She asked him about the books he’d been reading, and he surprised her by asking if she had any recommendations. It was small talk, but it felt comfortable and natural like it had been almost since the beginning.

After the living room and kitchen looked noticeably tidier, she wiped her hands on her jeans and glanced toward the hallway leading to his bedroom. Motioning toward the door, she said, “Alright, let’s check out the bedroom next.”

Bucky froze, tightening his shoulders visibly. “Bedroom’s fine,” he said quickly, the edge of reluctance in his voice was unmistakable.

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “I’m already on a roll, Buck. Might as well see the whole place.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he reluctantly trailed behind her. “It’s not much to look at,” he muttered, more resigned than defiant.

“Then it won’t take long,” she quipped, throwing him a reassuring smile before disappearing through the doorway. Her brows furrowed at the sight before her. The bed was buried under a haphazard pile of boxes, and scattered clothes dotted the floor. The mattress didn’t even have sheets on it, and the faint layer of dust on the headboard told her it hadn’t been used in a while.

She turned to him, crossing her arms. “What’s going on here? Where do these boxes go?”

Bucky shifted awkwardly in the doorway, avoiding her gaze. “They’re fine where they are.”

“Bucky…” Her voice softened, concern creeping into her tone. “Where are you sleeping?”

He clenched his jaw, and after a long pause, he mumbled, “On the floor. In the living room.”

Her eyes widened. “The floor?

He nodded, his gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder.

She stepped closer, keeping her voice calm but firm. “Why?”

His lips pressed into a thin line before he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The bed’s too… soft.” He paused, struggling with the words. “It doesn’t feel safe,” he continued, with a low voice. “When I’m on the floor, I can feel the room. Hear things better. I… know what’s going on and can act in case something happens.” His gaze dropped to the pile of boxes on the bed. “And the bed… it’s just not right. Too soft, too confining. It feels like a trap.”

She nodded slowly, her expression a mix of understanding and quiet sadness. “That makes sense,” she said gently. “But, honey, that’s no way to live. I get why you feel that way, but you deserve to rest somewhere that doesn’t hurt your back.”

He gave her a faint shrug, the corner of his mouth pulling downward. “I’ve been doing this for a while. I’m used to it.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s good for you,” she replied, stepping closer and resting a hand lightly on his arm. “How about we start small? Let’s clear off the bed today. No pressure to use it yet, but maybe we can make it feel a little less… wrong. Less like a trap.”

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes flicking back toward the cluttered bed. She could see the hesitation in his face, the way his fingers flexed at his sides like he was fighting an internal battle.

Finally, he nodded once, almost imperceptibly. “Alright.”

Her lips curved into a gentle smile. “Good. So, where do these boxes go?”

“Closet,” he muttered, stepping forward to help her.

Together, they cleared the bed, tucking the boxes away and folding the stray clothes. She didn’t push or prod, keeping the conversation light as they worked. She mentioned ideas for making the bed more comfortable, maybe firmer pillows or a thinner mattress topper to make it feel less suffocating.

By the time they were done, the room already looked less like a storage space and more like a place where someone could rest.

“There,” she said, dusting her hands off and turning to him. “A step in the right direction.”

Bucky stood at the edge of the bed, staring at it like it was something foreign. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess so.”

“You don’t have to use it right away,” she gently. “But when you’re ready, it’ll be here for you.”

He nodded again, loosening his shoulders slightly.

As they returned to the main area, she expected Bucky to suggest starting dinner, but instead, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Can we… sit for a bit? On the couch?”

“Of course,” she said with an easy smile, leading the way. She settled into her usual spot at one end, patting her thighs lightly.

Bucky sat and shifted, lying down until his head rested on her lap. When her fingers began threading gently through his hair, he let out a quiet exhale. They stayed like that for a while, the stillness of the apartment punctuated only by the soft rhythm of her fingers against his scalp and the occasional hum of traffic outside.

“Anything you want to talk about?” she asked softly, not wanting to break the moment but leaving the door open for him.

Bucky closed his eyes, his voice low and drowsy. “Not yet. Just this. This is… enough.”

After a while of lying on the couch, Bucky's body had grown heavier against her lap. His breathing became slower, and his voice was groggy when he finally spoke. “Hey… can we go shopping on Saturday instead of Friday?”

Her fingers stilled briefly in his hair before resuming their soothing rhythm. “Saturday?”

“Yeah…” He trailed off, blinking sluggishly up at the ceiling. “I’ve got some stuff to deal with on Friday. Nothing big. Just easier if it’s Saturday.”

She hummed thoughtfully, glancing down at him. “I can’t,” she said gently.

“Why not?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to meet her gaze.

“I have a date.”

The weight in the room shifted immediately and his body stiffened under her touch. “Like… with your other ‘son’?” he asked, the words tumbling out awkwardly before he could stop himself.

She blinked, then laughed softly. “No, Bucky. Like with a man. A real date.”

Her fingers resumed their lazy rhythm through his hair, but she could feel the way his shoulders tensed further, and his jaw clenched. He didn’t respond right away, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Sensing his unease, she chuckled. “Don’t worry. You won’t meet him, and you definitely won’t have to call him Dad.”

Bucky let out a faint huff, something caught between a snort and a sigh, but he didn’t relax. “Didn’t say I was worried,” he muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.

She smiled, brushing her fingers through his hair again with deliberate care. He closed his eyes again, letting her touch ground him as the weight of the day slowly ebbed away.

After a moment of silence, Bucky shifted slightly against her lap. His lips pressed together like he was trying to hold something back, but finally, the question slipped out. “Where… where did you meet this guy?”

Her fingers paused briefly in his hair before resuming their soothing rhythm. “At the bookstore,” she said lightly. “He comes in pretty often. We’ve had a few nice conversations over the past couple of months.”

Bucky frowned, his brows knitting together as he stared at the ceiling. “You’ve gone out with him before?”

She shook her head, smiling softly. “No, this will be the first time.”

He mulled that over, his gaze flickering with something unreadable before he glanced up at her. “So… what do you like about him?”

The question came out gruff, almost begrudging, but there was a flicker of genuine curiosity -or maybe hesitation- in his voice.

Her lips twitched with amusement as she considered the question. “Well,” she began, “he’s polite, for once. Always says hello and takes the time to ask how my day is going.”

Bucky huffed lightly, a soft sound of dismissal.

“And he’s thoughtful,” she continued. “One time, he brought me coffee because he noticed I was swamped with a shipment of books. Didn’t even stay to chat, just handed it to me and said he thought I might need it.”

“Sounds like a Boy Scout,” Bucky muttered, his tone laced with faint skepticism.

She chuckled softly, brushing her fingers lightly over his temple. “Maybe. But I like that he pays attention. He’s kind without expecting anything in return.”

Bucky stayed silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on some invisible point far away. Finally, he murmured, “So, you’re serious about him?”

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “It’s just one date, Buck,” she said gently. “I’m not planning a wedding.” Her voice carried a reassuring warmth, softening the weight of his question. “I don’t even know if there’s anything there yet.”

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, his tone softer now, though the small frown on his face lingered. “Guess you’ll find out.”

“I guess I will,” she replied. After a pause, she added with a playful glint in her eyes, “But no matter what happens, it won’t change anything between us. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

Bucky’s lips twitched faintly, the ghost of a smile breaking through his lingering tension. “Yeah… I remember.”

Her fingers slid through his hair again with deliberate care, and the corners of his mouth relaxed, even if his eyes remained shadowed. Whatever the storm in his mind, her presence was enough to keep it at bay for now.

“Speaking of dates,” she said, lightly but curious, “you didn’t tell me how your date went with the woman from the grocery store. The one you told me about the last time we saw each other.”

Bucky shifted against her lap, suddenly looking a lot less relaxed. “I… kind of left in the middle of it,” he admitted, uncomfortable.

“Oh, you didn’t,” her eyebrows lifted in mock reproach as she tugged softly at his hair, as a playful reprimand.

He huffed, pressing his lips into a thin line. “She was… noisy,” he started, his voice tinged with frustration as he struggled to explain. “Talked too much, and it wasn’t even about anything interesting. Kept asking questions, but…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “She didn’t actually care about the answers. Just wanted to fill the silence.”

Her fingers paused briefly, then resumed their soothing rhythm through his hair. “That sounds exhausting,” she said softly, her tone full of understanding. “But that’s not the whole reason, is it?”

Bucky swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked away. “She was touchy,” he said finally. “Kept leaning in, grabbing my arm, laughing like… like it was supposed to make me feel good or something.”

“Did it?” she asked gently.

“No.” His response was firm, and his hands flexed at his sides as though the memory left him uneasy. “I wasn’t comfortable with her being so close. I don’t even think she noticed. Or cared.”

She sighed softly, her touch steady as she brushed her fingers through his hair again. “You’ll find someone who gets you. Someone who’ll respect your pace and what you need.”

His lips twitched faintly, like he wanted to smile but wasn’t quite sure how. “What if there’s not?” he muttered, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t catch it.

“There will be,” she reassured him. “You just have to be patient. And picky. Nothing wrong with that.”

For a moment, he was silent, the tension in his body softening just a little under her touch. Then, almost shyly, he murmured, “Thanks… Mama.”

She smiled warmly, leaning back into the couch as her hand continued to comb gently through his hair. “Anytime, honey.”

-----

Time had a way of slipping by, and before he knew it, Bucky found himself sitting across from another date. This one wasn’t noisy or overly touchy, and the small brewery they’d chosen wasn’t bad, either. He nursed a beer in one hand, his vibranium arm hidden beneath the sleeve of his Henley, as the woman across from him laughed at something he’d said, a low, cautious laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

Her eyes drifted to his wrist, where the dark leather bracelet he always wore peeked out from his sleeve. “I like that,” she said, nodding toward it. “The bracelet. It’s nice.”

He glanced at it, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks. My mom gave it to me.”

Her expression faltered slightly, the smile on her lips growing a bit stiff. “Oh, that’s… sweet,” she said, tilting her head. “Do you, uh, live with your mom?”

Bucky furrowed his brows, looking at her like she’d just asked if the sky was purple. “No. Why?”

She shifted in her seat, her fingers toying with the edge of her glass. “Well, then you must be very… close to her. Are you the youngest son?”

“No.” His tone was sharper now, though he didn’t mean it to be. “Why?”

The woman hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around her drink. Finally, she gestured vaguely toward him, her voice dropping as though she were trying to be delicate. “Well… you’ve brought her up a lot. And, no offense, but it’s kind of… weird for a man your age. On a date, I mean.”

Bucky froze, his beer halfway to his lips. For a moment, he said nothing, his blue gaze narrowing slightly as he processed what she’d just said. Then, slowly, he set the bottle down, and his fingers tightened slightly around the glass. A familiar sense of unease churned in his chest, accompanied by the ache of frustration.

“Right,” he said finally with an even voice, though there was a subtle edge to it. “I guess that is weird.”

The woman shifted uncomfortably, her awkward smile faltering completely. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s fine,” he interrupted, leaning back in his chair. His expression was blank, his tone cool, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “Thanks for pointing that out.”

For the rest of the date, the conversation limped along, each attempt at salvaging it falling flat. Bucky found himself withdrawing, offering short, polite responses but little else. The spark of curiosity or connection -if there had ever been one- had fizzled out entirely.

When the check came, he paid for their drinks, refusing her offer to split it with a quiet but firm “Don’t worry about it.”

As they stepped outside, he offered a polite goodbye, but his tone was distant, and he didn’t wait for her to respond before walking off into the night.

He didn’t bring her up that much, did he? The thought came gruffly as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment, but deep down, he already knew the answer. Should’ve just stayed home.

His gaze fell to the leather bracelet again, and he sighed, slowing his footsteps.

‘Mom’ wouldn’t have made me feel like that.

He shook his head as he entered, the faint metallic clink of keys landing in the small ceramic bowl echoed through the quiet space. His lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze lingered on it. The damn bowl she picked because I couldn’t decide. He let out a low, frustrated growl, kicking off his boots near the door and running a hand through his hair.

His nose wrinkled as a faint scent clung to him, cigarettes, from his date. She must have smoked earlier, and now it lingered in his jacket, his shirt, even his hair. His brows furrowed. He didn’t like it. The realization was sharp, irritating, and only added to his foul mood as he stripped off his clothes while walking toward the bathroom.

The shower hissed to life, steam filling the room as he stepped under the hot spray, letting the water cascade over his shoulders. He rested his palms against the tile wall, hanging his head forward, dampening his hair.

The date replayed in his head in vivid detail: her awkward comments, the tight smile when she’d tried to backpedal, the judgment laced in her words. Weird for a man your age. He gritted his teeth, his knuckles whitening against the slick tiles.

She wasn’t wrong, he did bring up Mama more than he realized. But was that a crime? She was one of the few constants in his life that didn’t feel… hollow.

The thought only made the pit in his stomach grow heavier. The way she’d looked at him like he was some awkward, broken man who couldn’t function properly… it stung.

Before he knew it, his thoughts wandered to her instead. Not the woman from the date, but the one helping him put his life back together piece by piece. The one who’d picked out that damn bowl. The one who had sat on his couch, combing her fingers through his hair when he’d been too exhausted to speak.

His breathing hitched slightly as he remembered her touch, soft and unhurried, calming him in a way no one else ever had. He could almost feel the ghost of her fingers brushing through his hair, skimming over his temple with a care he didn’t deserve.

His hand slid down his chest, trailing over the wet planes of his torso, and he exhaled shakily, furrowing his brow. He shouldn’t be thinking about her like this. It was wrong -so wrong- but his body didn’t seem to care.

His grip tightened on himself, and his head thunked lightly against the tile as a groan slipped past his lips. The hot water beat against his back, but it couldn’t drown out the traitorous images flooding his mind. Her smile, the warmth of her voice, the way she’d called him “honey” like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his strokes becoming sharper, more desperate as if he could exorcise the feelings clawing their way to the surface. He shouldn’t be doing this, he admonished himself again. Not with Mama. Not the one person who made him feel safe.

And yet, the warmth of her imagined touch, the thought of her fingers tracing the scars on his skin or resting lightly against his jaw, was enough to push him over the edge. His release came with a choked groan, and his forehead pressed harder against the tile as his body shuddered.

For a moment, the only sound was the steady rhythm of the water and his ragged breathing.

And then the guilt hit him.

His hands clenched into fists, as his chest tightened. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” he whispered harshly, his voice cracking under the weight of his self-reproach.

He braced himself against the wall, shaking his head slightly. He felt disgusting, his stomach twisted as shame crept in his mind. She trusted him -cared for him- and this was how he repaid that?

With a low, bitter laugh, he reached for the soap, scrubbing furiously at his skin as if he could wash away the evidence of what he’d just done. But no amount of scrubbing could cleanse the storm of emotions raging inside him.

It was wrong. He was wrong. And yet, deep down, a part of him couldn’t stop wanting.

Goddammit.

-----

When Sam hinted that week about needing him for a little thing in Kuala Lumpur, Bucky didn’t hesitate. It didn’t seem like something Wilson could handle solo, and besides, a mission was the perfect way to blow off some steam. Anything to quiet the thoughts that had been clawing at the back of his mind since the date -and especially- since that shower.

He sent a quick text to Mama, keeping it short and simple, their usual code for missions.

Taking a vacation this week. Won’t make Friday.

Her reply came quickly: Take care of yourself. Don’t engage in crazy fun.

Bucky huffed softly, shaking his head as he stared at the screen. Ok, Mom, he typed back, his lips twitching faintly despite himself.

Her response came almost immediately: I mean it, Jamie.

Fuck. His jaw tightened, and he locked the phone without answering. She always had a way of cutting through him, even with a couple of words. He shoved the phone into his pocket and headed to pack, grumbling under his breath.

When Sam picked him up a day later, Bucky was already in mission mode: focused, stoic, and bracing himself for whatever chaos Wilson was about to drag him into. But despite his best efforts to push her words aside, they echoed faintly in his mind.

Take care of yourself.

He’d try. For her.

-----

Things went slightly fine the first day, if you ignored the shooting, falling from a 15-story building into a trash container, and the broken shower in the safehouse. Bucky stood shirtless in front of the cracked bathroom mirror, grimacing as he splashed cold water over his chest and shoulders. The sink barely worked, sputtering like it might give up entirely, and the dingy tiles on the walls didn’t do much to make him feel clean.

“Man, this place is a dump,” Sam said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“Better than the street,” Bucky grunted, grabbing a threadbare towel to dry off.

Sam hummed noncommittally, watching as Bucky fumbled with the faucet. “So, how’s it going with her?”

Bucky froze briefly before answering. “Things are good.”

“Glad you finally listened to me.” Sam’s voice carried just a hint of smugness. “I mean, you’re still a pain in the ass, but at least your mood’s improved a lot these past months.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, tossing the towel over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. You want me to thank you or something?”

“Nah,” Sam replied, grinning. “But I’ll take it as a win anyway.”

Bucky muttered something unintelligible under his breath and pushed past him, heading to the small, creaky bed in the corner of the cramped space.

That night, like most nights, sleep evaded him. He lay on his back, staring at the water-stained ceiling of the safehouse, while his mind spun with too many thoughts. Missions were supposed to clear his head, burn off the restlessness that kept him awake. But tonight, even exhaustion didn’t help.

With a frustrated sigh, he sat up and grabbed the disposable phone Sam had handed him earlier. He knew it was a bad idea, knew he should just put it away and try to rest, but his fingers moved on their own, pulling up her profile.

Her social media was usually quiet: cozy book displays from her job, pictures of the plants she was trying to keep alive, and the occasional funny meme. It was soothing, like a peek into a normal life that he could never fully touch.

But tonight, it wasn’t soothing.

His stomach dropped as he stared at the most recent photo, uploaded just a few hours ago. It was a close-up of two hands holding Sharpies, coloring a detailed mandala. One of the hands was hers, he recognized the delicate curve of her fingers, and the faint scar near her thumb. The other one was clearly male, broader and rougher.

The tags hit him like a punch to the gut:

#SoProudOfYou #AlmostAllByYourself

Bucky stared at the screen, and his chest tightened as the meaning sank in his brain.

Her other son.

It had to be him, the other veteran she worked with, the one she’d mentioned months ago. The one responsible for her being “unsure” about taking him in when Sam first approached her.

For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the floor. He could still picture the hands, the caption, the pride in her words. And it twisted in his chest, an uncomfortable, raw feeling he couldn’t shake.

He rubbed his hand over his face, groaning softly. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

It shouldn’t matter. She wasn’t his. She’d never been his, not in that way. He told himself that over and over, but the ache in his chest didn’t care. The idea of her giving someone else that same care, that same warmth, felt like a betrayal, even though he had no right to feel that way.

With a frustrated growl, Bucky tossed the phone onto the nightstand and dropped his head into his hands. For all the chaos of the mission, for all the bullets and explosions and pain, nothing had hit him harder than that damn photo.

And he hated himself for how much it hurt.

-----

The mission wrapped up in a flurry of controlled chaos. The intel had been secured, the enhanced assholes neutralized, and while Sam emerged with only a few scratches, Bucky sported a fresh bruise on his jaw and a deep gash on his forearm, not that he cared.

The flight back was quiet, the hum of the jet’s engines filling the cabin as Bucky sat slumped in one of the seats, staring a blank point in front of him. His vibranium fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest, the only outward sign of the storm brewing in his head.

Across the aisle, Sam noticed. He always noticed.

At first, he let it be, figuring Bucky’s mood would even out once they hit the ground. But as the hours dragged on, and the Winter Sulker stayed silent, Sam couldn’t help himself.

“You’re quiet,” Sam said, leaning back in his seat.

Bucky didn’t respond, his gaze kept fixed on the clouds outside.

Sam tried again, his tone a little sharper this time. “You gonna sit there brooding the whole way, or are you gonna tell me what’s eating you?”

Still, nothing.

Sam let out a sigh, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. But let me guess: You’re pissed off because someone scratched your arm? Or wait, maybe you’re mad because someone didn’t say ‘thank you sir’ after you saved their life?”

Bucky’s fingers stilled on the armrest, tightening his jaw.

That was all the opening Sam needed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, man, I’m not blind. You’ve been sulking since day one of this mission. You want to talk about it, or do I have to guess some more?”

Bucky’s head snapped toward him, his eyes narrowing. “Just drop it, Wilson.”

“See, now you’ve got me curious,” Sam said, grinning in a way that only made Bucky’s irritation spike. “What’s got the great James Buchanan Barnes in such a mood? Did Mama scold you over text?”

That did it. Bucky shot out of his seat, towering over Sam with a scowl. “I said drop it!” he barked, his voice echoed in the small cabin.

Sam didn’t flinch, didn’t move. He just stared up at Bucky. “So it is about her.”

Bucky froze, clenching his fists at his sides.

“Man, you’ve been walking around like someone kicked your dog,” Sam continued, with a softer tone. “And I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you’ve got to get it out before it eats you alive.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before sitting back down with a heavy thud. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and muttered, “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Sam pointed out.

“It’s fine,” Bucky snapped tiredly.

Sam watched him for a moment before sighing and leaning back. “Alright. Keep it to yourself if you want. But I’m telling you now, whatever’s got you in this mood, you better work it out before it gets worse.

Bucky didn’t answer, turning his gaze back to the blank point. The rest of the flight passed in tense silence, as the weight of Sam’s words pressed down on him more than he wanted to admit.

----

He entered his apartment, dragging his feet like every step took more effort than it should. The mission had taken more out of him than he cared to admit, though it wasn’t the physical strain, it was the weight in his chest that seemed to grow heavier every time he returned to this quiet, empty space.

He grabbed his dead phone from the counter and plugged into the charger, barely glancing at the notifications, and made his way to the bed. The mattress was thin, and the pillows hard, as she’d suggested. “A good way to transition from the floor,” she’d said, and damned if she hadn’t been right. He’d hated it at first, but now… now it felt like his.

He dropped onto it without bothering to change, his eyes closing almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He was so tired. So fucking tired.

That night, the nightmares came back.

And the next night.

And the next.

-----

Several days later, she was pacing her living room, phone in hand, staring at the screen with her thumb hovering over the keyboard. Whatever Bucky was into, it must have been over by now. She was sure of it, or at least, she hoped so. The radio silence was starting to worry her.

He wasn’t one to check in often -God knew that- but after all these months, she’d learned his rhythms. This wasn’t like him, not entirely. Not answering her, staying quiet this long? That wasn’t just distance. That was something else.

Finally, she typed a quick, casual message:

Still at the resort, hun?

His reply came faster than she’d expected, but it was curt.

No.

Her brows furrowed. Oh, okay, she thought, frowning at the screen. Something felt off. She typed again.

Everything alright? Did you have more fun than intended?

The dots in the chat appeared, blinked, and then disappeared.

Okay, she thought, waiting. Then they blinked again. And disappeared.

Bucky, are you hurt? she finally wrote with concern.

This time, the message was read almost instantly, but no reply came.

She sighed, deepening her frown. She knew this pattern all too well. When Bucky didn’t answer, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to, it was because he didn’t know how.

“Alright, Buck,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her bag. “Time for a visit.”

This wasn’t the first time she’d done this, dropping everything to pull him out of whatever dark place he’d retreated to. He’d let her in, little by little, trusting her with parts of himself no one else saw. She’d told herself it was about helping him, being there for him in the way he needed.

But it was more than that.

The truth, the one she kept swallowing down, was that her care for him didn’t fit neatly into the boundaries of their arrangement. It wasn’t maternal, not entirely. It was something more, something deeper. She shoved the thought aside, tightening her grip on her bag. Principles, she reminded herself firmly. Getting involved with him like that would be wrong. He deserved better.

But she couldn’t stop herself from caring.

She grabbed the key off the hook by her door and headed out. Not answering the door wasn’t going to be an option this time.

Not for her.

As expected, her knocks were met with silence. She sighed with resignation and slipped the key into the lock.

The door creaked open, and she wrinkled her nose as the stale, charged air of the apartment hit her. It wasn’t the worst she’d seen it, but it was far from the neat, semi-organized space they’d worked on together. Her gaze swept the room, taking in the scattered clothes on the floor and a small pile of takeout containers on the counter.

At least he’s been eating, she thought, a small relief in the face of the mess.

The faint sound of water running led her to the source: the bathroom. The shower.

She turned her focus back to the living room, her lips pressing into a line as she slid the window open to let in some fresh air. The cool breeze offered a small reprieve from the heaviness of the space.

Spotting a roll of garbage bags near the counter, she grabbed one and started tidying up. The crumpled clothes went into a hamper, the empty takeout boxes into the bag. She wiped at the counter absently, and her mind drifted to the last time he’d gone radio silent like this.

Whatever this is, we’ll get through it, she told herself.

She was so focused on her task, that she didn’t notice when the sound of the shower stopped, or when Bucky emerged from the hallway.

He stood there, quiet and guarded, with a towel slung low around his hips. Droplets of water clung to his skin, rolling down the faint scars on his flesh arm and chest. His stare was intense and unreadable as he watched her move around his apartment as if she belonged there.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice startled her, low and edged with exhaustion. She turned sharply, the garbage bag crinkling in her hands as her eyes met his.

“Oh,” she said, recovering quickly. Her gaze flicked briefly over him before landing firmly on his face. “I knocked. You didn’t answer.” She gestured toward the bag in her hands. “Figured I’d help you out a little.”

Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“No,” she replied evenly, setting the bag down and crossing her arms. “But I wasn’t about to leave you stewing in here like this.”

His jaw worked as he shifted his weight. “I’m fine.”

She raised an skeptical eyebrow. “Yeah? Because this,” she gestured to the room, “doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine,’ Buck.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “I didn’t ask for a lecture.”

“Good,” she shot back, her tone soft but firm. “Because I’m not giving you one. I’m here because I care about you, and you clearly need someone right now. Whether you want to admit it or not.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, and his guarded expression wavered slightly. Then, with a tired sigh, he stepped further into the room, slumping his shoulders. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted with a soft gaze. “But I’m here now. So let me help.”

He didn’t respond, but the fight seemed to drain out of him. His shoulders loosened, and he dropped into a chair near the counter, fixing his gaze somewhere on the floor.

She picked up the garbage bag again, resuming her quiet cleanup. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to coax him out of his own head, and she suspected it wouldn’t be the last. But as she moved around the room, she noticed the faintest crack in his armor, proof that he was letting her in, even if he didn’t have the words to say it yet.

“So… what’s going on?” she asked, as she picked up a wrinkled pair of boxers from one of the chairs.

Bucky’s gaze flicked to the offending garment, then back to her face. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his damp hair. He was tired, tired of pretending, tired of holding back.

“I’m… jealous.” he admitted reluctantly.

She paused, her fingers tightened around the fabric before dropping it into the laundry pile. “Jealous?” she echoed, her brows furrowing. “Of who?”

His jaw tensed, and his gaze darted away before he muttered, “I saw it. The Sharpies picture.”

Her lips parted slightly in understanding. “Oh,” she said softly. “And?”

“And…” He sighed again, the frustration etched into every line of his face. “You never did that with me.”

“Coloring?” she asked, tilting her head. “I didn’t think you’d be into it, babe.”

“Not coloring,” he said sharply, running a hand through his damp hair again. Then his voice softened, but his words carried a heavy weight. “The… the picture.”

Oh.

“Well,” she started gently, “you’re not exactly a fan of social media. And you always grump when I try to take one of us.”

“It’s not that,” he said, shaking his head. His blue eyes finally met hers, raw and vulnerable in a way that made her chest tighten. “It’s… I forget sometimes that I’m not your only son.”

Oh.

He leaned back in the chair, running his hand over his face as if to hide the emotions flickering across it. “I don’t like the idea of sharing you,” he admitted, in a low, almost bitter tone.

She swallowed hard. “Well, it happens all the time,” she said cautiously, trying to keep her tone light. “Brothers usually don’t like-”

“He’s not my brother,” Bucky interrupted firmly, snapping his gaze to hers.

The air in the room shifted. His next words came softer, but they hit like a thunderclap.

“And you… you’re not my ma.”

The room seemed to still, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge in the background.

She stared at him, her pulse thrumming in her ears. “Bucky…”

“I hate it,” he said, dropping his hands to his lap as he looked at her with a mix of anger and desperation. “I hate that I look forward to seeing you more than I’ve looked forward to anything in years. I hate that I can’t stand the thought of anyone else getting what I get. And I hate that I don’t know what the hell to do about it.”

Her heart felt like it was being squeezed as she searched for the right words. “Bucky,” she said softly, leaning toward him, “this… this doesn’t have to be something you hate.”

“I know,” he said, his voice was raw and strained. “But I can’t manage my feelings toward you.”

Her breath caught, and her heart twisted painfully as she absorbed the weight of his confession. She leaned back slightly, clenching her hands together in her lap and sighed.

“Bucky,” she started softly, “this bond we’ve built… it’s compromised. It’s not what it’s supposed to be anymore. It wouldn’t be ethical for me to continue mothering you.”

His head snapped up, his blue eyes went wide and glassy with panic. The look on his face made her chest ache. He looked utterly wrecked, his lips parted as if to argue, but no words came at first.

“No,” he finally stammered, his voice shaky and uneven. “No, please. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I’ll stop. I’ll never bring it up again, I swear.” His breath hitched, and he shook his head as if trying to find the right words. “Just… don’t leave me, Mama.”

He reached for her hand, firmly but also trembling. His vibranium fingers brushed against her wrist, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the warmth of his touch. “I need you,” he said, his voice breaking.

Her heart shattered at the sheer desperation in his voice, in the way his thumb nervously rubbed over the back of her hand like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.

With her free hand, she reached up and cupped his stubbled cheek, softly brushing her thumb over a scar near his jawline. His breath hitched again, and his eyes fluttered shut momentarily, as though her touch was calming him.

“This ordeal isn’t right, sweetheart,” she murmured. “It’s not fair to you. Or to me.”

“But-” His hand tightened around hers, his body leaned closer to her as though proximity alone could keep her from slipping away. “I’ll do better. I’ll keep it together. Just… please, don’t go. Don’t give up on me.”

“Bucky,” she whispered, tracing soothing circles on his cheek. “It’s not about giving up on you. It’s about what’s right. What’s healthy.”

“I don’t care about right,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “I just… I can’t lose you too.”

Her hand trembled slightly where it rested against his cheek, but she steadied herself with a deep breath.

“Bucky,” she began softly, tentative but growing steadier as she continued, “I also have feelings for you. I’ve been having them for a while now.”

His breath hitched, his wide eyes searching hers desperately, but before he could speak, she pushed forward.

“I was never going to act on it,” she said firmly. “Because it would mean taking advantage of you.”

His brows furrowed deeply, and he shook his head, rising his voice with frustration and disbelief. “I’m a grown man. You can’t take advantage of me.”

“You know that’s not true,” she countered gently but unyieldingly.“You trust me, Bucky. You let me in, more than anyone else. And that’s why we can’t do this dynamic anymore.”

Her words hit him like a physical blow. His grip on her hand tightened, and his shoulders hunched as his head dipped forward slightly. For a moment, he was silent, breathing heavily as he tried to process her words.

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head, his voice broke as he looked back up at her with unshed tears brightening his eyes. “No… Ma… you can’t just-”

“Bucky,” she said softly, cutting him off with a tenderness that nearly undid him. Her fingers brushed his cheek again, tracing soothing circles as her heart ached at the devastation written across his face. “The contract we made, the boundaries we agreed on, it doesn’t fit us anymore. I can’t keep pretending to be something I’m not.”

His breath hitched, the knot in his throat tightened as he struggled to find words. “But you’re not-” he started, voice trembling.

She shook her head gently, stopping him again. “I’m not your mom, Bucky. You said it yourself.” Her voice wavered just enough to betray the conflict she felt.

His lips parted, but no sound came as he searched her face, desperate for something -anything-that might keep her close.

“That being said…” she murmured after a beat, her thumb still brushing gently against his cheek. Her eyes softened as they searched for his. “We can try… dating. To see how and where this might go, because that’s something completely different.”

His mind blanked for a moment, as her words hit him. Dating?

The word echoed in his head, feeling too big and too small all at once. He blinked, his mouth opening slightly as he struggled to process what she’d just said. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out, his breath caught somewhere between confusion and longing.

Dating… her?

His heart twisted, caught in the crossfire of disbelief and a yearning he’d buried for so long it felt foreign. She wasn’t pulling back. She wasn’t brushing this off or deflecting like he’d feared. Instead, she was offering something he hadn’t dared to hope for.

Does she mean it?

For so long, he’d kept his feelings locked away, hidden in the shadows of his mind where they couldn’t hurt him -or anyone else-. But now, here she was, standing in front of him, dragging those feelings into the light with words that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

“…What?” he finally managed, the word slipping out before he could stop it. His voice was rough, strained, tangled somewhere between confusion and desperation.

Her expression didn’t falter, but there was a faint glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes, just enough to make his chest ache. “Dating, Bucky,” she repeated. “Not as your mom. Not as anyone else. Just… as us.”

Us.

His throat tightened, and his hands flexed against hers. The knot in his chest twisted painfully, caught between fear and something that felt dangerously close to relief.

Could there even be an us?

“Bucky, you’re doing the staring thing,” she said softly, her voice tinged with amusement, though her eyes remained serious as if willing him to believe her.

The corner of his mouth twitched, a faint huff of air escaped his nose as he ducked his head slightly. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I thought it was just me. You’re… sure about me?

Her thumb brushed gently along his jaw, and a small, reassuring smile tugged at her lips. “I wouldn’t be here saying this if I wasn’t sure, Buck.”

He glanced at her lips, the desire to close the space between them was almost overwhelming, but he hesitated. “You’re not… scared?”

“Of you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “Never.” Her smile grew just a bit, as she added, “You’re not as intimidating as you think, you know.”

That earned a faint chuckle, though it was weighed down by the uncertainty still lingering in his chest. “I just… I’m not exactly easy, you know,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m complicated. Messed up.”

She shook her head, squeezing his hand gently. “Bucky, all these months I’ve been coming here to be with you, you’ve opened up to me in ways I don’t think you’ve done with anyone else. You’ve trusted me with parts of yourself that I know aren’t easy to share.”

Her voice softened, her thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “I know what I’m dealing with. And I can promise you, you’re not a mess. Not to me.”

His chest tightened at her words. He exhaled slowly, his blue eyes flicking between hers as if searching for any trace of doubt but all he saw was warmth. “Then,” he began, his tone was low but went higher as he steadied himself. “Let’s-let’s go. On a date.”

Her lips twitched, and she glanced down briefly, with a playful glint dancing in her eyes. “Well, to go right now, you should probably put some clothes on first, don’t you think?”

For a moment, he blinked, caught off guard by the shift, until her words sank in. His gaze darted down to the towel wrapped loosely around his hips, and the faintest flush crept up his neck.

“I didn’t mean right now, Ma-” He caught himself, his jaw tightened as he quickly corrected, “Doll.” The word came out gruff, almost embarrassed, as he scratched the back of his neck, his eyes flicking away for a second.

Her brow arched at the slip, but she didn’t comment, though the faint smile tugging at her lips didn’t go unnoticed.

Bucky shifted slightly, rolling his shoulders, and for once, the knowledge that she wanted this too -wanted him- settled something inside him. The usual discomfort of being caught off guard wasn’t there. Instead, he felt a spark of confidence, small but growing.

She leaned back in her chair, deciding to give him the space to take the lead. Considering his old-fashioned upbringing, it felt right to let him set the tone, not just to give him control, but to help him feel steady.

“So,” she said lightly, playful but encouraging, “pick a place and a time, and we’ll see.”

He nodded slowly, flexing his fingers against his knee before leaning back slightly in his seat. The movement shifted the towel around his hips just enough to make her painfully aware of the fact that he was still half-naked.

Her eyes traced the line of his shoulders, and the slight curve of his jaw as he glanced down in thought. Then her wandering gaze dipped against her better judgment, tracing the line of his chest, the faint curve of muscle at his stomach, and the scars she’d never quite let herself linger on before.

When her eyes flicked back up to his face, his sharp blue gaze was already on her, a flicker of amusement sparking in his expression. His lips twitched into a faint smirk, “Okay,” he said, more confident now. “I’ll… figure it out.”

Her cheeks warmed faintly, and she quickly forced a smile, hoping it would cover her flustering. “Take your time, Bucky. Just not too long.”

He tipped his head slightly, and his smirk deepened with an easy confidence in his posture that was now unmistakable. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

----

True to his word, her phone buzzed with a message a couple of days later.

Dinner? Friday at 7. That place you mentioned once, Marcellino’s.

She blinked at the screen, parting her lips in surprise. Marcellino’s? The Italian place she’d mentioned months ago, almost offhandedly, as a “bucket list” spot she’d love to visit someday? How had he even remembered?

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard before she typed back.

Seriously? I’ve been dying to go there. How’d you manage reservations so fast?

On the other side of town, Bucky stared at her message, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he reclined on his couch. It had been a pain finding a reservation on such short notice; apparently, Marcellino’s had been booked solid for weeks. But hacking into their system had been child’s play, a few keystrokes, some backdoor access, and voilà: table for two, Friday at 7.

She would never know, of course.

He typed back simply.

I’ve got my ways.

Her reply came quickly, punctuated with a laughing emoji.

Mysterious, huh? Alright, Bucky. I’ll see you on Friday.

Bucky exhaled slowly, setting his phone down and leaning back against the couch. A small, quiet sense of satisfaction settled in his chest. It wasn’t just the date, it was the effort, the planning, and the decision to put himself out there in a way he hadn’t in decades.

Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

----

When the cab pulled up to the curb, she spotted him immediately. He was standing just outside the restaurant, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark suit pants. His posture was relaxed, but his gaze was distracted, fixed on something across the street.

She rarely saw him out of his usual Henleys and jeans, but God help her, he cleaned up well. The suit was perfectly tailored, the dark fabric accentuating his broad shoulders and tapering at his waist. His hair, usually left to its own devices, was slicked back neatly, the sharp lines of his jawline even more striking under the glow of the streetlights.

For a second, she forgot how to breathe.

Bucky, oblivious to her arrival, shifted his weight slightly, his vibranium fingers flexing in his pocket as his flesh hand adjusted his tie. She smiled to herself, taking the opportunity to appreciate him while his guard was down. He was so effortlessly striking, yet she knew he’d put thought into it. He really wanted this to go right.

Finally, she stepped out of the cab, and her heels clicked softly against the pavement. “Hey, handsome,” she called out.

Bucky’s head snapped toward her, his distracted expression melting into something softer. His lips parted slightly, raking his gaze over her from head to toe. “Wow,” he murmured, low and rough. “You look…” He trailed off, his mouth twitching like he couldn’t find the right word.

“Good?” she offered with a smirk, stepping closer.

“Better than good,” he corrected, “Way better.”

Her cheeks warmed under his gaze, but she managed to keep her tone casual. “You’re not looking so bad yourself, Buck. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you do this sort of thing all the time.”

He huffed a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck, though the faint pink dusting his ears didn’t go unnoticed. “Guess I clean up okay.”

“Okay?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Try amazing.”

He ducked his head slightly, a rare but genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks,” he muttered, holding out his arm. “You ready?”

She looped her hand through his, letting him lead her toward the entrance. As they stepped inside, she couldn’t help but think this was already shaping up to be the best first date she’d ever had.

The table was in a prime spot near a window overlooking the city lights. Bucky pulled out her chair smoothly, motioning for her to sit confidently, making her heart flutter.

He settled across her with fluid movements. Despite the nerves buzzing in his chest, they were the good kind of nerves, normal ones. The kind that came with wanting to impress someone without feeling like he had to prove his worth.

He already knew her.

That made everything easier. There was no need to rack his brain for icebreakers, no awkward pauses to fill, no second-guessing every little thing he said. Instead, he could focus entirely on her: the soft curve of her smile, the way her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, the way she twisted her hands together on the table when she thought he wasn’t looking.

And, maybe, on seducing her. Not aggressively, but in the easy, intentional way he remembered from a lifetime ago. A brush of his fingers here, a lingering glance there, the kind of thing that built tension without needing words.

If he was rusty, it didn’t show.

She, on the other hand, was a wreck.

Her posture was perfect, her smile warm, but underneath the table, her knees bounced faintly, betraying the swirl of emotions coursing through her. This was -and wasn’t- her Bucky.

The man sitting across from her wasn’t the grumpy, guarded man she’d coaxed out of his shell with patience and care. This Bucky was confident, deliberate. The way his piercing gaze lingered just a second too long, the faint smirk tugging at his lips when he caught her fidgeting, he wasn’t shy about letting her know she had his full attention.

And it was overwhelming. Not in a bad way -it was thrilling- but it left her feeling completely off balance.

She wasn’t in charge anymore.

The realization sent a wave of warmth through her body, leaving her acutely aware of every little detail: the way he leaned forward slightly when she spoke, the way his hand rested on the table, close enough to brush hers if she dared to reach out.

God help her, she thought faintly, swallowing hard. If this was Bucky now, she couldn’t imagine what Sergeant Barnes of the 1940s must have been like. A menace, no doubt. A walking, talking heartbreaker wrapped in charm and good manners.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his again, and he gave her a slow, knowing smile, one that sent her pulse skittering.

She tightened her grip on the edge of her napkin, trying to will herself to relax. This was Bucky. And yet, sitting across from him like this, with the weight of his attention focused entirely on her, it felt like seeing him for the first time all over again.

When the food arrived, Bucky’s face was a masterclass of self-control. His expression remained completely neutral as the waiter arranged the plates with what could only be described as an air of reverence. He nodded politely when the man finished, even offering a quiet “thank you,” though inside he was already questioning his life choices.

Once the waiter walked away, he let his eyes shift to her, raising a brow to see if she was thinking the same thing he was.

Her lips twitched, struggling to suppress a laugh as she glanced down at her plate. The elegant presentation might have fooled someone else, but all she could see was what appeared to be a tiny portion of gnocchi, barely enough to feed a toddler.

Bucky’s plate wasn’t much better: three perfectly arranged sorrentinos, sitting proudly in the center of an artfully swirled sauce. It was the most stylish and inviting minimalist plate he’d ever seen.

He glanced back up at her, his lips twitching as her shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“This…” she started, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle a giggle, “…this is it?”

Bucky huffed, leaning back in his chair as he gave his plate a long, scrutinizing look. “Guess we’re supposed to savor it,” he said dryly.

She bit her lip, trying and failing to stifle another laugh. “It seems they’re encouraging portion control.”

He scowled. “Didn’t know I’d be eating an appetizer disguised as dinner, goddammit.”

“I’m… I’m sorry! I didn’t know… they have such great feedback!” she groaned still chuckling.

“It’s my fault,” he muttered, spearing one of the sorrentinos with his fork and eyeing it as if it had personally insulted him. “For not checking the place out better.”

He couldn’t believe he’d hacked their system for this. He’d spent nearly an hour working around firewalls and reservations, all to secure a table at this supposedly renowned spot. It hadn’t even occurred to him to scout the menu or check the portion sizes.

This wouldn’t have happened to the old me, he thought bitterly, chewing slowly on his second overpriced sorrentino. His jaw tightened as the familiar ache of inadequacy crept into his chest.

She must have noticed the subtle shift in his expression because, without a word, she reached across the table and rested her hand over his.

“Bucky,” she said softly, her voice laced with gentle authority. “Don’t you dare take a ride on the self-deprecation train.”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers with surprise, before relaxing his features.

“This,” she continued, squeezing his hand lightly, “is just an anecdote. Something to laugh about later, hm? It doesn’t mean anything except that we picked a fancy place with tiny portions. That’s it.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, flexing his fingers slightly under hers. Then, reluctantly, his lips twitched into a faint smirk. “An anecdote, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling now, her thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. “Something to tell people one day, how you bravely faced off against a plate of minimalist pasta. Now finish your last bite so we can leave and find something less fancy but more substantial,” she stated with amusement.

Bucky poked at the last piece of pasta with his fork, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Even the breadbasket was sad,” he grumbled, as he signaled for the waiter to bring the bill.

The waiter approached, and with a politely confused expression, he noted their early departure. “Would you like to see the dessert menu, perhaps?” he offered, his tone gracious but hoping to redeem the situation.

“No, thank you,” Bucky replied smoothly, his voice polite but final. He slid his card across the table before she could even think about reaching for her wallet.

“Bucky-” she started, but he cut her off with a quick shake of his head.

“Don’t even try,” he said firmly but light enough to soften the refusal.

She huffed but didn’t argue further, leaning back in her chair as he settled the bill. Once it was taken care of, Bucky stood and offered her his hand, helping her up with ease.

As they made their way toward the exit, he placed a gentle hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the door he opened for her.

“Such a gentleman,” she teased, as she stepped outside into the cool night air.

“Only for you, doll” he murmured, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk as he shifted slightly to shield her from a passing breeze.

She stepped beside him, automatically taking the inner spot on the sidewalk as he steered her toward it and slipped her hand easily onto his offered arm

“So,” he said after a moment, “Any ideas where we’re finding this substantial food? Or am I winging it?”

She laughed softly, squeezing his arm. “Let’s see what’s nearby. Maybe we’ll find a place with a breadbasket that doesn’t make you sad.”

“That’s a low bar,” he muttered, earning another laugh that made his chest feel lighter than it had all night.

They ended up at a small, no-frills pizza place, tucked into the corner of a quiet street. The neon sign in the window flickered faintly, and the smell of melted cheese and fresh dough hit them the moment they stepped inside.

Sliding onto the high bar stools at a tiny plastic table, they both seemed keenly aware of how out of place they looked. Her dress shimmered faintly under the fluorescent lights, and his perfectly tailored suit drew more than a few curious glances from the other patrons, who were clad in hoodies and jeans.

Bucky sat a little stiffly at first, as he glanced around. The contrast between this place and the upscale restaurant they’d just left wasn’t lost on him, but the casual atmosphere somehow felt more... right. Still, the attention made him uneasy, and he shifted slightly, brushing his vibranium hand on the edge of the table.

But then he looked at her.

She had a slice in her hand, the cheese stretching almost comically as she took a bite. Her shoulders relaxed as she chewed, and then she closed her eyes, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips.

Bucky’s brows lifted slightly, locking his gaze on her as a faint flush crept up his neck. He watched her savor the bite, her fingers tapping lightly on the table to emphasize her approval.

In that moment, every awkward glance from the other patrons, every thought about his appearance or how ridiculous they looked, melted away.

All he could think about was her.

“Good?” he asked, unable to stop staring.

She opened her eyes, blinking like she’d momentarily forgotten where she was. “So good,” she said, curling her lips into a satisfied smile. “I needed this.”

“Glad I could deliver,” he teased, taking a bite of his slice after winking at her.

She shook her head with a small laugh, wiping her fingers on a napkin. “You know… I don’t get it. How did all your last dates go so bad, Bucky?”

He paused mid-bite, chewing slower as the thought crossed his mind. Maybe because I couldn’t stop bringing up my ‘mom’ in conversations like some kind of creep.

“Because they weren’t you.”

The answer came easily, effortlessly, but the way her eyes widened told him she hadn’t expected it.

Her lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the raw sincerity in his voice. For once, she was the one scrambling for words, the usual balance between them tipping in a way that made her pulse quicken. “Bucky…”

He held her gaze. “I mean it.”

She blinked, the teasing light in her eyes dimming as something warmer and softer, replaced it. Slowly, her lips curved into a small, almost shy smile, fiddling her fingers with the edge of her napkin as she tried to gather herself.

“Well,” she murmured playfully, “I guess they didn’t stand a chance, huh?”

“Not even close,” he agreed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back slightly on the barstool. The suit jacket he wore pulled just enough to highlight the sharp lines of his shoulders, and for a brief moment, she found herself really looking at him. The paper napkin in his hand felt absurdly out of place against the polished, confident image he presented, but somehow, it only made him more endearing.

She reached for another slice of pizza as if that would help her steady herself. She didn’t say anything, couldn’t, because what could she possibly say to that? Instead, she glanced down quickly, busying herself with her plate and hoping he didn’t notice the sudden warmth in her cheeks.

When her eyes flicked back up, he was still watching her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. It wasn’t teasing or overconfident, just… him.

As they finished their meal, the buzz of the restaurant began to fade into the background, leaving just the two of them in their little corner of the world. Bucky leaned back, draining the last of his drink before standing and adjusting his jacket. He offered her his hand, his vibranium fingers catching the soft light. “Come on,” he said in an inviting voice.

“Where?” she asked, slipping her hand into his.

“Just… a walk,” he replied, almost tentative “Unless you’re in a hurry to call it a night.”

“Not at all.” She promptly answered as she rose to meet him.

They wandered down the sidewalk unhurriedly as the night wrapped around them. The streetlights cast long shadows, and their conversation flowed easily, punctuated by the occasional laugh or lingering glance. For a while, neither seemed to notice the passing of time. But then a cool breeze rolled in, and he felt her shiver slightly beside him.

He stopped, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Alright,” he murmured reluctantly, “I’m calling you a cab.”

She blinked, furrowing her brow . “What? Why?”

“You’re cold,” he said simply, his tone firm despite the regret in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” she argued, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her words.

“Doll,” he said, shaking his head with a faint smile, “you’re shivering. I’m not letting you walk around all night freezing.”

Her lips curved into a teasing smirk. “You could just lend me your jacket, you know. Like they do in the movies. Then I’d nuzzle into it because it smells like you, the usual cliché.”

He quirked an eyebrow, and his smirk widened into something distinctly playful. “You know, if you want to smell me, you can do it whenever you want.”

Her mouth fell open slightly, her cheeks burning as her witty comeback disappeared from her brain.

He chuckled, clearly pleased with her reaction, but his expression softened as he continued. “You’re shivering,” he repeated. “I’m not about to let you freeze out here.”

She folded her arms, attempting to regain her composure. “I’m really fine.”

“Trust me,” he said, pulling out his phone, “if I gave you my jacket, I’d have to carry you home. You’d drown in it.”

She let out a small huff, quirking her lips into a reluctant smile. “Fine,” she relented. “But only because I don’t want you giving me that sad, guilty look all night.”

“Guilty?” he repeated, quirking an eyebrow as he tapped at his screen.

“Yeah,” she teased, nudging him lightly. “Like you’re already blaming yourself for the weather.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he finished ordering the cab. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

-----

As they waited, he guided her toward the side of the building, resting his hand instinctively on her lower back as he steered her out of the breeze.

“Thanks for tonight, Bucky,” she said softly, leaning slightly into him, guided by the warmth of his hand.

Bucky froze for half a second, as the closeness of her body sent his heart into overdrive. She tilted her head to look up at him, and she smiled, not quite shy but not entirely bold either.

For a moment, he struggled. His old-fashioned nature tugged at him, warning him to hold back, to wait. He wasn’t sure how these things worked anymore, not when it came to her. Did he ask? Did he wait for her to make the first move?

But then her gaze dipped just for a second, to his lips.

Slowly, carefully, he leaned down, giving her time to pull away.

She didn’t, parting her lips ever so slightly, and it was all the reassurance he needed.

Their lips met, and the world seemed to still. The kiss was soft, tentative, but filled with all the emotions he hadn’t known how to put into words. His vibranium hand slid gently up her upper back, steadying her, while his flesh fingers brushed the curve of her jaw.

She leaned into him, resting her hands lightly on the lapels of his suit jacket and the kiss deepened, just enough to send a pleasant warmth humming through them both before they slowly pulled back.

Her eyes fluttered open, and a small smile played at her lips as she whispered, “Took you long enough.”

He huffed out a low laugh as his hand lingered at her back. “Guess I’m a little rusty.”

“Not bad for rusty,” she teased, curling her fingers slightly against his jacket.

He sighed as he raked a hand through his hair. “You’re good for me, you know that?”

Her smile widened, and she nudged him gently. “I try.”

He bit his lip, glancing down briefly before meeting her gaze again. “Even without trying, these past months, they’ve been…” He paused, the words catching in his throat as he searched for the right way to say it.

“Good… in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. Because of you.” He managed to finish the best he could.

Her heart swelled at the raw honesty of his voice. She leaned closer, brushing her hand lightly against his chest. “You’ve done a lot of that yourself, you know,” she said softly. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

“Maybe,” he said, his lips twitching into a faint, almost shy smile. “But you were there. That made all the difference.”

She smiled, her thumb brushing over the lapel of his jacket. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” he murmured, “Because I’m not letting you.”

They just stood there, the hum of the city fading into the background. The night was cool, but the warmth between them was enough to keep the chill at bay. Finally, he tilted his head. “Ready to go?”

“No,” she pouted softly, looping her arm through his with a playful glint in her eyes.

Bucky hesitated for a fraction of a second, dipping his gaze to her lips again before he acted on impulse. His hand slid around her waist, gently pulling her closer as he leaned in.

This kiss was different, more sure, deliberate. His lips pressed against hers with a tenderness that made her knees feel weak, and she melted into him without hesitation.

When he finally pulled back, he let his lips brush against her cheek, trailing softly upward until they rested near her temple.

“Don’t make it difficult, Ma,” he teased lowly against her skin.

She let out a soft, breathy laugh, as she leaned into him. “Not my fault you’re irresistible, sweetheart.”

His lips curved into a small, lopsided smile against her temple before he sighed softly, resting his hand lightly on her lower back. With an easy motion, he guided her toward the waiting cab at the curb.

When they reached it, he opened the door for her without a word. She stepped in, pausing briefly to glance back at him. Her lips were still curved, and her warm smile made his chest ache in the best way.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” she said softly.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, a little rough around the edges. His gaze lingered on her, flexing his fingers slightly as if reluctant to let go of the door. Finally, he shut it gently, stepping back as the cab pulled away.

For a long moment, he stood there with his hands tucked into his pockets, watching as the car merged into the traffic and disappeared into the city lights. Finally, he turned slowly heading home, the faintest trace of a smile still tugging at his lips. For once, the night didn’t weigh so heavily on him, as he carried the lingering warmth of her smile and the memory of her kiss.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #Bucky Barnes Comfort

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lupinqs · 2 days ago

Text

CHAPTER FIVE ━━ I Get You

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 4.9K

❀ ━ warnings: mentions of injury, angst

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: these hoes are gay

PAIGE SITS on the sidelines, her crutches propped up against the wall, the weight of her brace a constant reminder. The gym smells like it always does—sweat, pine-scented floor cleaner, and faintly of old rubber. It’s familiar, almost comforting, but today it just feels hollow. Every bounce of the ball, every squeak of sneakers against polished wood, every shout of her teammates feels like a sharp stab. She should be out there. She should be running those plays, setting up the assists, pushing the pace, and taking those impossible shots. Instead, she’s stuck here, immobile and useless.

Her hands grip the edge of the chair, the cool metal biting into her palms as she leans forward to watch the scrimmage. Jo’s running point, calling out a play with that calm, sure voice Paige has come to admire. Jo makes it look easy, like she’s been apart of this team forever, and the rest of the girls respond to her without hesitation. It’s the kind of command Paige used to have, the kind she oddly always thought no one could replicate.

But between Jo and Nika, they’re doing fine without her.

And she thinks that’s the hardest part.

Every pass, every cut, every layup feels like a slap to Paige’s pride. The team doesn’t crumble without her; they adapt. Jo steps into the role Paige left vacant, and Paige can’t even dislike her for it because she’s so damn good at it. She runs the offense and with precision, directing the team perfectly. And, of course, it’s not like Paige wants her team to fail without her. It’s just a reminder of what she can’t do anymore—or, at least not for a long time.

Her stomach twists as she watches the scrimmage play out. She’s never been good at sitting still, and now, that’s all she can do. Sit and watch. She used to be the one lifting everyone’s spirits, the one pushing them through tough practices. Now she’s just another body on the sidelines, invisible and irrelevant. She feels like a ghost of herself, haunting the gym where she uses to thrive.

The ache in her knee is dull but persistent, a constant undercurrent to her frustration. The brace is still and cumbersome, and the crutches are a pain in the ass to deal with. Even getting to this chair had felt like a marathon. She hates every second of this—the injury, the recovery, the helplessness. It’s not just the physical pain; it’s the way it chips away at her identity. She doesn’t know who she is without basketball.

She glances down at the clipboard balanced on her lap, a half-hearted attempt to stay engaged. Geno had given it to her, suggesting she could help track plays and stats during practice, but it feels like a consolation prize. Like something he made up to keep her busy, to make her feel less like dead weight. The truth is, she doesn’t know what the hell her role is anymore. She doesn’t know how to help when she can’t be on the court.

Paige forced herself to focus back on the scrimmage, her eyes narrowing as Jo drives toward the basket. Jo’s quick, her movements sharp and meaningful, and instead of finishing with the layup, she does a no-look, dishing it out to Azzi on the perimeter, who buries a three. Paige catches Jo’s eyes as she jogs back up the court, and Jo flashes her that smile—warm, reassuring, effortless. It’s the kind of smile that should make Paige feel better, but—for once—it doesn’t.

Paige doesn’t have the energy to smile back. She knows Jo means well, knows she’s trying to be supportive, but it just makes Paige feel worse. She’s not in the mood for reassurance. She doesn’t want to be told it’s going to be okay, because it doesn’t feel like it ever will be.

Jo looks away and gets back into the flow of the game, and Paige’s gaze drops to the clipboard again. She scribbles something down, not because it matters, but because she needs something to do with her hands. She feels the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to hurt.

The gym fades into background noise as her mind races. She thinks about the months ahead, the endless rehab sessions, the games she’ll have to watch from the bench. She thinks about how everyone else will move on, how the media will forget her name, how the team will find rhythm without her. She wonders if she’ll ever get that rhythm back, if she’ll ever feel like herself again.

She thinks she will. She has enough trust in God to hope he’ll at least give her that. But, here, right now, that feels so far ahead that it’s almost just wishful at this point.

Paige closes her eyes, breathing deeply. She can’t do this here, not in front of everyone. She pushes herself up from the chair, fumbling for her crutches. The awkward motion makes her wince, but she swallows the ache and glances at Geno.

“Gotta go to the bathroom,” she says, her voice too clipped to be convincing.

Geno narrows his eyes slightly, the way he always does when he’s trying to figure someone out. He nods once, and Paige feels the weight of his gaze as she turns away. She knows he can see right through her excuse, but he doesn’t call her out on it. She doesn’t need another lecture about staying engaged.

The moment she’s out of the gym, the air feels different—quieter, cooler, easier to breathe. The hallway stretches ahead of her, lined with murals of UConn legends. Paige’s crutches thud against the floor as she hobbles forward, her eyes skimming over the faces and names that loom on the walls. Maya Moore. Breanna Stewart. Diana Tayrasi. Sue Bird.

Her chest tightens.

She’s supposed to be part of this legacy. She’s supposed to be one of the names people remember, one of the faces immortalized in paint and pride. But now? Now she’s a girl with a busted knee and a brace that feels like a goddamn prison. The thought makes her stomach twist with equal parts anxiety and frustration, a bitter cocktail she’s been choking down since the surgery.

As she continues down the hall, trying to push those thoughts out of her head, she nearly collides with someone rounding the corner.

“Paige!”

Celeste Sinclair’s voice is bright and warm, and Paige immediately regrets leaving the gym. The grin that spreads across the redhead’s face feels too familiar, too personal, like an inside joke Paige isn’t in on.

“Hey,” Paige mutters, gripping the crutches tighter.

She hasn’t seen Celeste since before her ACL tear, and that’s probably for the best. The girls Paige hooks up with always have a way of getting too attached. Paige doesn’t blame them, not really. She knows she’s charming, knows how to make people feel like they’re the only one in the world when they’re with her. But that’s all it’s ever been: a moment.

Celeste is nice. Pretty. Accomplished. Good in bed. But Paige has never wanted anything more, never even given it a thought. Relationships aren’t for her. They never have been. Basketball has always been her first and only love, the one thing she’s willing to give herself to completely. And now that’s gone—at least for now. The last thing she needs is another reminder of how much she’s failed.

“I haven’t seen you since…” Celeste trails off, gesturing vaguely toward Paige’s knee, her voice tinged with sympathy. “How’re you holding up?”

Paige forces herself to smile, though it feels more like a grimace. “I’m good. Just takin’ it one day at a time.”

Celeste beams at her like she’s just said something profound, and Paige wants to die a little inside.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Celeste replies. “I wasn’t sure—did you get my card? I gave it to Jo to pass along before your surgery. Um, but you haven’t really said anything.”

Oh, right. The card. The one Paige didn’t even read. The one that’s now resting in a hospital trash can. Paige rubs a hand over her face, buying time to piece together an answer. “Yeah—uh, yeah, I got it. Sorry I said nothin’. Thanks, though.”

Celeste’s smile widens, and her eyes soften in that way that makes Paige want to shuffle awkwardly away. Celeste always looks at her like that, like there’s something more between them, something Paige knows she’ll never be able to—or want—to give.

“You’re welcome,” Celeste says gently. “I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”

Paige more, hoping that’s the end of it, but of course, it’s not.

“Hey,” Celeste starts, her tone shifting to something more professional, “any chance you’d be up for, like, a TikTok? Just something to show the fans you’re healing. They’d love to see you.”

It’s times like these that Paige understands why Jo thought it was so funny she was fucking their media girl. Paige stares at Celeste for a long second, feeling a spark of irritation flare in her chest, because, seriously, why would she even ask that? “No, Celeste. I don’t wanna do any media.”

The words come out sharper than she intends, but she doesn’t care enough to soften them. She adjusts her grip on her crutches, already turning to leave.

“Right,” Celeste says quickly, falling into step beside her. “I get that. Totally. Just… heal up, okay? Call or text, if you want to. You know where to find me.”

Paige doesn’t respond, just gives her a brief nod before hobbling down the hall. Her pace is slow, each step a frustrating reminder of how far she is from where she wants to be. Celeste finally stops following, and Paige exhales in relief as she rounds another corner, desperate for some space, some air, anything that doesn’t feel like pressure or pity.

AFTER PRACTICE, Jo walks into the locker room with the rest of the team, the chatter and laughter bouncing off the walls as everyone unwinds from the session. She’s still buzzing with the energy of the scrimmage (and the sprints they were forced to do after because of one-too-many missed layups), but as she rounds the corner to the lockers, she notices a familiar figure slouched on the bench.

Paige had disappeared halfway through practice, and though Geno didn’t make a big deal out of it, Jo had been aware of her absence like a missing puzzle piece. Now here she is, sitting in front of their side-by-side lockers, her crutches leaning against the bench and her gaze a little unfocused. Her brace sticks out awkwardly from her bent leg, and Jo feels a pant of sympathy tighten her chest.

“Hey,” Jo says as she tosses her bag in the cubby of her locker. She sits down beside Paige, close enough to make her presence known but not enough to crowd her. “You okay?”

Paige shrugs, her lips pulling into a vague shape that might be a smile but doesn’t come close. “Yeah. ‘M fine.”

Jo doesn’t buy it. It’s not that Paige is necessarily a bad liar; she’s just too proud, too stubborn to admit when she’s not. Jo watches her for a beat, the slump of her shoulders, the way her fingers fight with the hem of her T-shirt. She knows this posture, this energy. It’s the same one she’s seen in teammates who’ve been sidelined by injures, the same one she’s seen in herself on the bad days.

But Jo doesn’t push. She knows how that can feel—suffocating, like someone prying open a door you’re not ready to unlock. Instead, she plants her hands on the bench and leans back a little, changing the subject.

“Did you see Lou get me with that spin move earlier?” Jo asks, keeping her tone light. “Literally cooked me.”

Paige lets out a small, breathy laugh, almost imperceptible, but Jo catches it. It’s the first sign of life she’s seen in her all day.

“Didn’t even look like she was trying,” Paige mutters, her voice flat but laced with the ghost of a smirk.

“Right?” Jo exclaims, throwing up her hands in mock indignation. “It’s like, leave some dignity for the rest of us, y’know?”

She continues on, telling some half-dramatic story of when Nika picked her pocket after Paige left, weaving in jokes at her own expanse. She avoids anything too basketball-heavy, keeping the focus on the absurdity of her own experiences instead of the game itself. It’s a careful balance—Jo knows that bringing up basketball might sting, but it’s also a thread that ties them together, a shared language Paige can’t—and Jo knows she doesn’t want to—escape from.

Paige hums in response now and then, her focus flickering like a weak signal. Jo can tell she’s only half-listening, her mind somewhere else entirely. Still, she keeps going, hoping that her presence, if nothing else, might pull Paige out of her head a little.

After a while, as everyone’s getting up to go, Jo shifts the conversation again, tilting her head toward Paige. “Y’know, we could hang out later—maybe watch a movie or something?”

Paige looks at her, and for a split second, Jo thinks she might say no outright. Instead, Paige forces a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes and says, “Maybe.”

The hesitation is there, sharp and obvious, but Jo doesn’t call it out. She knows better than to push. She lets the word hang in the air for a moment before nodding, as if “maybe” is a real plan.

“Okay,” Jo says, keeping her tone casual.

Paige turns back to her hands, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the bench. Jo watches her out of the corner of her eye, thinking of something that might reach her. She’s learned that Paige is pretty independent, something that stems from her childhood if Jo had to guess, and Jo respects that. She does. But there’s a difference between being independent and shutting everyone out, and Jo worries that Paige is tipping too far into the latter.

She tries to think of something—anything—that might help. She doesn’t need to cheer Paige up, necessarily. She’s learned by now that joy isn’t always the right goal. What Paige needs isn’t sunshine and rainbows (though Jo would probably be better at giving her that). What she needs is something steadier, quieter. A reminder that she’s not alone, even if she feels like she is.

She’ll figure something out.

PAIGE LIES sprawled across her bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the string lights draped along the wall. Her eyes are fixed on her crutches, propped up against the wall next to her like a taunt she can’t escape. They stand there, silent and unmoving, mocking her with their stillness while the rest of the world seems to keep spinning without her.

Today has been one of the most frustrating days she’s had since the injury. The hours feel heavier, pressing against her chest, leaving no room to breathe. Practice was a disaster, even though she wasn’t really in it. She hates watching from the sidelines, hates feeling so useless. She’d escaped halfway through, hobbling out of the gym under the guise of needing air, only to run into Celeste, of all people. That interaction still churns in her stomach—awkward and uncomfortable, like a bruise pressed too hard.

Jo had asked her earlier if she wanted to hang out tonight. Just a movie, something simple. Paige had said “maybe” at the time. But an hour or so ago, when Jo knocked softly on her door, her voice east and unassuming as she asked if Paige wanted to make good on the plan, Paige had thrown out some half-baked excuse about being tired.

Jo didn’t push, of course. She never does. She just nodded, smiled a little, and closed the door, before Paige heard her leave the apartment—probably to go upstairs and hangout with their teammates. Her stomach twisted with guilt as she listened because Jo is Jo—kind and patient and the only person who seems to understand that Paige doesn’t want to talk about any of this. She doesn’t want to be asked how she’s doing, doesn’t want to be told it’ll get better, doesn’t want to be smothered in sympathy that feels more like pity.

But Jo’s absence now feels louder than her presence earlier. Paige stares at the ceiling, trying to will herself into a calmer state, trying to shake off the weight of the day, the week, the last month. It doesn’t work.

She sits up abruptly, shoving the blankets off her legs and swinging them over the side of the bed. Her knee twinges at the movement, the brace digging into her skin, and she lets out a frustrated huff. Her eyes land on the crutches again, the sharp lines of their edges casting long shadows in the dim light. She feels a bubbling in her chest—an anger she doesn’t know how to direct, a helplessness she doesn’t know how to contain.

Before she even realizes what she’s doing, Paige grabs one of the crutches from beside the bed and hurls it across the room. It crashes against the wall with a dull thud, sliding to the floor in a defeated heap. The sound echoes in the silence, and for a moment, she just stares at the aftermath, her chest heaving.

And then the tears come.

It’s not the first time she’s cried since the injury, but it feels different tonight—uglier, rawer, like the dam has finally burst. She curls in on herself, her hands tangling in her hair as sobs wrack her body. She doesn’t bother trying to quiet them. There’s no one here to hear her, no one to ask if she’s okay, no one to offer meaningless reassurances she doesn’t want to hear.

Except, there is.

A soft, hesitant knock at Paige’s bedroom door jolts her out of her spiraling thoughts. She freezes, her hands instinctively wiping at her face, smearing away the tears that have already begun to dry against her skin. Confusion threads through her—she thought Jo had left. She hadn’t even heard her come back.

The door creaks open, and there Jo is, standing in the sun light spilling from the hallway. Her brows are furrowed, her mouth pulled into a concerned line. She takes a step inside, her eyes scanning the room. Paige knows what she sees—the red puffiness of her face, the dampness of her cheeks, and the crutch lying discarded by the wall like a casualty of war.

“Sorry,” Paige blurts out, her voice cracking as the word tumbles out in a rush. She feels a fresh wave of shame rise up. She’s been awful to Jo, she knows that. First brushing her off earlier, and now this—disturbing her peace with her mess, her ability to just hold it together for once.

Jo doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stands there, her eyes roving over Paige’s face, taking in every detail. Paige hates how exposed she feels, like Jo can see right through the flimsy walls she’s been trying to keep up all day. Finally, Jo sighs and steps fully into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

“Paige,” Jo says gently, “you don’t have to be sorry.”

There’s something in Jo’s voice that makes Paige want to believe her. Something so simple, yet so genuine, that it threatens to unravel the last bit of control she has. She doesn’t respond, just watches as Jo walks closer. She sets something—a bag, Paige thinks—on the floor next to the bed, but Paige doesn’t even bother to look at it. Jo sits down on the edge of the mattress, close enough that Paige can smell the faint traces of strawberry body wash on her skin. She hates that it makes her stomach do that weird fluttery thing, hates that it makes her feel anything at all.

“I’m just—” Jo pauses, and Paige looks up at her. Jo’s eyes are soft but unwavering, and the way she’s looking at Paige, like she’s trying to will her to understand something without saying it outright, makes her heart squeeze. “I’m really worried about you, P.”

The flutter in Paige’s stomach turns into something heavier, like a weight pressing down on her stomach. Jo’s worried about her. Paige knows that other people have probably been worried about her too—her parents, her teammates, her coaches—but it feels different coming from Jo. It feels too much. She shifts uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way Jo’s gaze feels like it’s peeling back all her layers.

“I’m fine,” Paige says automatically. The word sound hollow even to her, like a tired script she’s forced herself to memorize.

Jo shakes her head, her expressing softening even more. “No, you’re not. And it’s okay not to be.”

Paige doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to put into words what’s been clawing at her chest since the injury.

“But you’re shutting everyone out,” Jo continues, her voice steady but not accusatory. “It’s like you won’t even look at me some days, let alone talk to me. And I get it. I do. But I just—I want you to know that I’m here. That you can talk to me, because I’ve been there.”

Paige stares at her, the words catching her slightly off guard. I’m here. It’s such a simple thing to say, but the way Jo says it, low and earnest, makes something in Paige’s chest twist. She doesn’t know what to do with that—doesn’t know how to accept it without feeling like she’s admitting defeat.

“Azzi already tried,” Paige says finally, sounding shaky. “She tore her ACL in high school, and she tried to talk to me about it. But it’s just—she still didn’t seem to get it. No one does—I don’t know—” Her voice cracks on the last few words, and she feels the tears welling up again, hot and relentless.

Jo studies her for a long moment, her head tilting slightly. “You think nobody gets you?” she asks softly.

Paige nods, the movement slow and heavy, her throat too tight to speak.

Jo nods too, as if she’s been expecting that. “It’s not true,” she says simply. “I get you. I do.”

Paige shakes her head, a weak protest already forking. “Jo—”

“No, really,” Jo interrupts, leaning forward slightly. “You feel like everyone expects you to be perfect, all the time. You feel like if you’re not the Paige Bueckers everyone knows—the player, the leader, the star—that you’re letting everyone down. Your team, your coaches, your fans, your family—yourself. You feel like you don’t even know who you are without basketball, because it’s been your whole life for as long as you can remember. And now that it’s been taken away from you, you don’t know how to exist. You feel lost, like a piece of you is missing, and you’re scared—terrified, actually—that you’ll never get it back And you’re so used to dealing with everything on your own, to putting on a brave face and pretending you’re fine, that the thought of letting anyone in feels basically impossible. Like if you let even one crack show, then the whole thing will just come crashing down.”

The words hit Paige like a tidal wave. Every sentence is a punch to the gut, not because it hurts, but because it’s true. Jo’s right—about all of it. About the fear, the pressure, the suffocating wright of it all. And the way Jo says it, calm and matter-of-fact, makes it even harder to ignore.

“Was I right?” Jo asks softly, her eyes searching Paige’s face.

Paige swallows hard, her chest tight as she stares at Jo. There’s something about the way Jo’s looking at her—steady and unwavering, like she’ll wait forever if she has to—that makes Paige feel like the room is tilting. She wants to run from it, but she also doesn’t want Jo to stop.

Finally, she nods, her voice barely a whisper. “Yeah,” she says, her throat dry. “You were.”

Paige doesn’t know how to process the way Jo’s smile hits her. It’s small, soft, and knowing, but it wraps around Paige like a hug. Jo leans a little closer, her voice warm and teasing when she says, “See? I told you.”

There’s something about those words, about the certainty in Jo’s tone. She doesn’t want to cry anymore—God, she doesn’t want to—but something about Jo makes her feel like it would be okay if she did.

Jo’s voice interrupts her thoughts. “Scoot over.”

Paige blinks at her, furrowing her brows. “What?”

Jo doesn’t elaborate, just gestures for Paige to move. Paige hesitates, unsure of where this is going, but she shuffled over, making room on the bed. Jo grabs the bag she set down earlier and pulls herself up onto the bed. Paige watches as Jo leans back, settling against the wall, her shoulder brushing Paige’s, her other side cuddling into Sunny, the stuffed animal she gave Paige.

“What’s that?” the blonde asks, gesturing toward the bag with a slight sniffle. Her voice is still shaky from earlier, and she hates how small she sounds.

Jo pulls the bag into her lap, her voice lighter now, almost back to her usual bright, less-serious self. “Oh, this?” She opens it and pulls out a little tub of ice cream. “I went out and got us ice cream. I got your disgusting mint chip.”

Paige blinks, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite herself. That’s where Jo had gone, even after she’d bailed on their plans. Paige takes the ice cream Jo offers, along with a spoon, feeling a warmth spread through her chest that has nothing to do with the food.

Jo retrieves her own tub—still cotton candy, still gross—and balances it in her lap.

They sit in silence for a moment, and Paige lets herself watch Jo as she digs into her ice cream. There’s something so effortless about her, the way she fits into Paige’s space like she belongs here.

Jo suddenly looks around, frowning a little as if searching for something. “Where’s your—?” she starts but doesn’t finish before her eyes lick on something and she leans over Paige, reaching toward the nightstand.

It happens so quickly that all Paige can do is freeze. Jo’s arm brushes her side, her hair falls near Paige’s face, and Paige can smell her shampoo, something sweet and faintly strawberry. Paige’s heart starts racing, and she doesn’t understand why.

Jo grabs the TV remote and sits back, settling into her spot again like nothing happened. Paige feels ridiculous for how flustered she is, but she can’t help it.

Jo turns on the TV, flipping through the streaming apps before looking over at Paige. “You ready to finally start The Vampire Diaries?”

The blonde groans, leaning her head back against the wall. “No, I don’t wanna watch that.”

Jo’s been pestering her about this show for what feels like forever, insisting Paige would love it if she just gave it a chance. Paige, naturally, has resisted every time.

The younger girl shrugs, clearly unfazed. “Well, I don’t care. You’re already a little too depressed to keep watching Grey’s, sorry. It’s more fun to watch vampires eat people. Besides, the Salvatores are hot.”

Paige deadpans, “I’m gay.”

Jo doesn’t miss a beat. “Okay, Nina Dobrev’s hot.”

And, yeah, Paige supposes she can’t argue with that. She sighs, defeated, and waves a hand toward the TV. “Fine. Put it on.”

Jo grins like she’s won a battle, which she kind of has, and presses play. Paige doesn’t know what to expect, but she lets herself settle in as the first episode begins. Part of her wonders why this show is Jo’s favorite. Because, really, what is it about brooding vampires and dumbass love triangles that she loves so much? Maybe, Paige thinks, if she watches closely, she’ll learn something about Jo.

They eat their ice cream in comfortable silence as the show plays, the room filled with the sounds of dramatic dialogue and overly intense music.

After a while, Paige’s appetite fades. She sets her ice cream tub on the nightstand, not in grow her arm brushes Jo’s when she moves. Her heart stutters again, and she tries to ignore it, sliding back into her spot.

Without really thinking, she leans her head on Jo’s shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but it feels huge for some reason. Paige tells herself it’s just because she’s tired, that she needs comfort after everything that’s happened today. But the way her heart races says otherwise.

“Thanks, Joey,” she murmurs quietly.

Jo shifts slightly, and then Paige feels it—the warmth of Jo’s hand as it settles over her own. Paige’s breath catches, her stomach doing something weird and unfamiliar.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Jo says softly, certain.

But Paige does want to thank her, even if she doesn’t know how to put it into words. She doesn’t know how to explain what this means—Jo showing up, staying, not letting her spiral alone. All she knows is that her hand seems to fit perfectly under Jo’s slightly smaller one, and she doesn’t want to move.

The episode plays on, but Paige isn’t really watching anymore. She’s too focused on the warmth of Jo’s shoulder against her cheek, the quiet rise and fall of her breathing, the way her hand hasn’t moved from Paige’s. And in the back of her mind, Paige knows there’s something here—something bigger than she’s ready to admit.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wcbb #wbb #uconn #ncaa wbb #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers series #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers angst #wcbb x reader #nobody gets me #wlw #lgbtq

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bluem1lls · 8 hours ago

Text

✧₊⁺ forget about everything for a while

se-mi x fem! reader

✦ synopsis: you find your ex in the place you least expect it, and then again in the bathroom. she wants to say sorry but she doesn't know how..so maybe eating you out helps?

tw: minors dni, smut w a little plot, bathroom sex, fingering/oral (r!receiving), sub!reader, dom!se-mi, degradation (a little?), a bit of choking

authors note: hi! this is my first time writing (and in english) so im trying my best! tysm for reading and i hope u like it!

of course she's here.

you would've thought that after years of trying to get over her, the next time you'd see her, it would be at the coffee shop, where both used to go frequently. maybe even at the gas station, where she bought cigarettes and (per your request) a slushie.

you never thought you'd find your ex at the games where everyone was getting killed.

but of course you did.

so when you saw her standing there, wide eyed, being left alone to basically die as her entire group left her, the only conscious thing you could do was run to her and grab her hand.

se-mi stares at you, taking a double look to see if she was mistaken but nop, that's just her luck. it was you.

she would recognize that hair everywhere.

"what the fuck-" se-mi said, like she'd seen a ghost.

"no time to talk, maybe later" you said, dragging her into one of the rooms and closing the door behind.

she leaned against the wall and crossed her arms in front of her chest, she wanted to say a lot and at the same time, she had no words.

"why are you here?" she asked. her eyes searched for yours.

"my dad, he's.. extremely i'll and i couldn't let my mom carry with all that" you spoke, trying to regain your breath from the adrenaline of minutes ago and ignoring her pleading stare.

se-mi stares at the floor, trying to find the right words to say. what could she say to make it better.. after all these years?

"i didn't know. he's a really good man... i'm sorry"

"yeah." you reply, bitter "how could you know when you've been declining my calls and ignoring me?" you roll your eyes as you leaned against the door.

"i can't do this here, i really can't" se-mi said, putting her hands over her face trying to supress the wave of sadness that washed over her everytime she thought about you.

you bite your lip with rage. she was still avoiding you, after all this time.

"yeah no worries. i wasn't planning on staying here talking to my ex either" you mumbled.

she glanced over you trying to keep her cool facade as they open the doors

hell. you couldn't wait till this was done.

as you stirred in bed once. two. three times without being able to sleep, you decided that maybe the best would be to splash some water on your face, at least to be somewhat alert.

knocking on the door asking for the bathroom, the guards weirdly enough allow you without a lot of resistanse. maybe they're in a good mood.

you open the bathroom door and stand in front of the mirror, taking some water in between your hands to splash on your face.

you let out a sight when se-mi steps out of one of the stalls, closing the door behind her.

she looks a bit surprised when she sees you standing there. she stays in silence as both lock eyes from the mirror, her gaze softening as she roamed all over your face.

after a few seconds, she spoke in a soft and quiet voice.

"can't sleep huh?"

you nodded, turning around to look at her.

"it's been hard here. i just don't know when it's gonna be the last game" you spoke. she nodded in agreement.

there's an expression that you can't read on her face. it feels like guilty, pity and sadness all at once. you can see a hint of concern in her eyes.

"i really am sorry, you know...for not calling." she says.

you nod, getting closer to her, taking her scent. almost forgot the way she smells.

she looks at you with a frown on her face. deep down, you know she's sorry.

"i tried so hard to let you go..." you whisper, looking into her eyes.

"i tried too." she says, leaning an inch closer. "it never worked"

her eyes slowly reading all your features, as she took a deep breath and slowly placed a hand on your cheek, gentle. leaning into her hand, you sure missed her touch.

she bit her lower lip and gently cupped your face in between her hands.

"it's up to you se-mi. i've already said everything you needed to know. you were the one who was never sure" you whispered, feeling her breath on your face as the distance kept closing.

before you could even register what she was doing, you hear her mumbling a soft "fuck it" before she closed the distance and pressed her lips against yours.

the moment your lips touched, it felt like something snapped inside of both. one of her hands slid down to grab your thighs, encouring you to wrap your legs around her waist. so you did.

she pressed your body against the wall from behind while bitting rough on your lower lip. the kiss going from slow and loving to a rough, deeper one. both tongues fighting for dominance, you let her enter in your mouth as one of her hands slides from your thighs to your neck, softly squeezing for a few seconds, making you break the kiss to whimper for air.

her eyes scanned your whole face, eyes and pouty lips, basically begging her to fuck you. she let out a low groan as she kissed you again and again, going harder each time. her mind filled with nothing but the taste of your lips and the feeling of your chest pressed against her. little moans escaping from your lips, making her wanna ruin you right then and there.

"i missed this so much" you mumble in between kisses. the words sending a small pang to her chest as she pulled away from the kiss to lean her forehead against yours. her voice slightly shaking from lust, replies.

"i missed this too"

you pulled her by the neck, enough for her to kiss you again. you could feel yourself throbbing only from the kisses. grabbing her hand that sat on your waist, you lowered it down to where you needed her the most.

"i cant wait any longer.. please" you begged her to ruin you.

she looked at you with lustful eyes. "if it was any other moment, i'd make you beg, but since i dont think we have that much time.." she said, falling on her knees.

you pulled the pants and panties all in one go as she helped to get rid of them and pushed you softly against the wall.

she placed one of your legs on her shoulder and started to kiss your inner thighs, making you let go small whimpers. se-mi could feel herself growing wetter just by your scent, it was driving her crazy.

you placed a hand on her hair, softly pulling, and quickly her kisses escalated from inner thighs to your puffy clit, as her lips wrapped around it, you couldn't help but moan.

"be quiet" she hissed. "or you want everyone to know what a slut you are? maybe next time i'll fuck you in the common room" she smirked as you replied with a desesperate moan and a nod. "of course you'd like that. want everyone to know i'm the only one who fucks you stupid, princess?

as she finished her sentence, she placed her tongue on your clit. a cold feeling left you whimpering.

oh.

is that-

thats a tongue piercing.

of course she got a tongue piercing.

you covered your mouth with one hand to quiet your moans as the other one pulled her hair.

as two fingers entered your needy cunt, you bit your lip to quiet a loud moan. she kept working her tongue on your clit while roughly doing and 'in and out' motion with her fingers that was quickly dragging you to the edge. her eyes became almost black with lust as she roamed your fucked out face, your eyes rolled back from pleasure.

"i forgot how good you are at this oh my god-" you kept moaning and whimering as her fingers became rougher and quicker inside and her tongue picked a more rapid pace "no one will ever make me cum like you do se-mi"

her mind clouded with lust as she heard your words. she added another finger and could feel your cunt clenched around her.

"gonna cum baby? you feel so thight around my fingers." she said, her words driving you closer and closer to your release. "poor baby, she was just begging to be fucked like the slut she is, i bet no one ever made you this wet" she cooed while teasing. se-mi chuckles at the way you moan senseless in agreement.

"i need you to use your words, can you do that baby?" she says, her tongue pace fastening making you clench even more. "or maybe i should stop and let you talk"

"n-no please- please. im so close, s- so close please" i begged in between whimpers.

she grunted, fucking you harder. "cum for me princess, cum in my mouth. you're such a good slut" she said while wrapping her lips and sucking around my clit.

the motion of her lips and her fingers curling against your spongy walls at the same time, hitting your g spot, was enough to have your cunt pulsing and eyes rolling back. you felt the pressure snap and a warmth spreading on your lower tummy, you arched your back.

she keeps slurping everything until youre a whiny and trembling mess.

she decreases her pace, slowly removing her fingers and standing up, making you lick her fingers clean, staring into her eyes.

she helps you get dressed again, and it feels like how it used to all over again, the soft aftercare.

after cleaning you, she softly kisses your forehead and pecks your lips, she was apart from you once, and she's never gonna do it again.

"i love you. i'm so sorry for everything" she says, still trying to catch her breath.

you nod, tired, and give her a fucked out smile as she chuckles.

"i still love you too. so this was a 'im sorry for breaking your heart, i'll fix it by eating you out' kind of apology?" you say, trying to stop your legs from shaking.

you let yourself into her arms as she hugs you tight and fixes your hair gently.

"mhm, but i'll have to keep doing it, just so i can make sure you forgive me"

"please do..."

#lesbian #wlw #se-mi #player 380 #player 380 x reader #squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x reader #squid game smut #se-mi x reader smut #se mi x reader #se-mi x reader #se mi #se mi squid game #se-mi squid game

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wonwauu · 1 day ago

Note

god i js had a thought, what if we edge/tease diluc for his whole shift at the tavern and he’s a pent up and flustered by the end of his shift and begging us to touch him!!

i love this too much, cheers to a new year with new beginnings.

as the owner of the dawn winery, diluc does not have free time to overlook his job at the angel's share. he's swamped with work, from making sure that the exports of the winery's famous dandelion wine goes smoothly, to maintaining an amazing reputation in order to keep his clan's business alive.

however, after diluc has met you, he's allocated time to work at the angel's share in order to spend time with you.

as the sun sets, the angel's share fills with bustling noises. laughter erupts from drinkers celebrating their latest feats. you push open the door, greeted by your lovely partner's smile as he notices your presence.

a familiar bard also welcomes you, albeit a bit too enthusiastically. "ahaa~ you always have a dopey smile whenever they're around. welcome! wanna be my drinking partner for the night?" venti leans a bit to face you, but you can tell the amount of drinks he had due to the blush across venti's face.

"hi venti, i would love to be your drinking partner, just don't pass out again." you chuckle, "diluc, i thought you weren't working today?" venti pats an open seat next to him as he orders another drink.

diluc lets out a sigh, glancing at venti then looking back at you taking a seat in front of him. "my workload has decreased significantly, so i decided to pick up a shift tonight."

"well i'm glad we have a chance to talk in person, i haven't seen you in weeks." you're a very popular adventurer, just returning back from a tough mission in sumeru that required more of your time than expected.

"i can say the same. the dawn winery has felt empty since your departure." diluc turns around to grab a bottle of grape juice, knowing that you both enjoy this drink.

venti hiccups as he looks at you, then at diluc. "i need another drink before i can get used to diluc's puppy eyes." venti fakes a gag sound as he promptly rests his head on your arm.

"you feel nice and cool." venti grabs your hand and rests his cheeks on it. he knows that diluc gets extremely jealous and loves to tease him with you.

"this is an unexpected perk of being a hydro vision wielder," you glance back at diluc who's currently staring into venti's soul. there's a little crack that forms on the glass that he's cleaning.

"aww baby, don't be jealous; you know that venti will fall asleep instantly from having too many drinks." glancing over at venti, you didn't have to finish your sentence to see him already passed out.

gently removing your hand off of venti’s face, you lean over the table to your partner. "you'll get lots of love once we go home", you coo at his reaction; ears burning as a blush forms on his face.

although you're dating diluc, you've made the decision to not use petnames in public. this is mainly to save diluc's face as he gets very flustered from any form of public affection.

as you get up, venti's arm knocks over your glass of grape juice, spills on diluc's stomach and pants.

diluc hisses, not amused by the new stain on his white shirt and black trousers. "baby..." you walk behind the counter, grabbing a tablecloth to help with the purple stain.

you feel diluc squirm under your touch. "not.. not in public." he shields his face, feeling the heat spread through his cheeks. "babe, if you don't stay still, this stain will spread. plus, everyone's drunker than venti and he's knocked out right now. they won't care what we're doing." you grip onto his waist, holding him in place as you continue to unintentionally brush over his crotch.

you weren't wrong though. although there was chatter in the tavern, it was barely comprehensible as everyone got extremely drunk.

"diluc, are you really getting hard in public? i never knew you're into this." you place down the tablecloth and run your hand over his bulge, earning the sweetest whimper from his mouth.

oh how you've missed that sound. "you're delusional, with all this touching.." he decides to not finish his sentence as he's embarrassed to admit that your touch got him hard at his workplace.

"reallyy? it seems like you're eager for this.." you unzip his pants, revealing his bulge that's forming a wet spot.

diluc's ears match the colour of his hair, "we can't do this, now in front of venti."

"baby, he's not even going to notice anything, trust me." you pull out his cock from his underwear, revealing his red tip, leaking precum.

he's been craving your touch since you left weeks ago, even though diluc's words are showing hesitancy, you can see it in his eyes how much he wants this.

after all, you know him too well. before diluc can let out another word, you start slowly but firmly jerking him off, occasionally swiping your palm over his tip.

your other hand lightly grazes your nail under his tip, eliciting moans that have to be muffled. he's hunched over the table as you coo into his ear, picking up the pace every time he lets out a breathy sigh.

"you're such a slut, getting hard in public and now you're moaning lewdly as i jerk you off. imagine how people will react if they see you like this?" you whisper into his ear, biting it as you slip a hand around his back, sneaking up to play with his hardened nipples.

from a civilian's point of view, it looks like you're consoling diluc on a bad stomach ache he's having.

all of a sudden, new people walk into the tavern. they seem tipsy enough, but not completely drunk.

diluc gasps. new people, at this time? he stands up straight, trying to maintain his posture as you halt your movements.

"hey there. can we get 2 dandelion wines?" one of them drunkenly takes a seat next to venti, where you were previously sitting.

"of course." you say, grabbing them 2 bottles as diluc stands there, not moving. he's afraid to be seen by random adventurers. but the thrill kept you going.

diluc is devastated from the lack of stimulation, but he knows better than to touch himself without your permission, let alone in public.

"aren't you the famous power couple in mondstadt? i came all the way from fontaine in order to try this wine." the drunken dude chippers, sober enough to recognize you both.

"i'm flattered if that's how people see us. fontaine is a beautiful place, we're planning on a vacation there once our schedules are free." you chuckle, standing closer to the bar table as you grip diluc's hard cock again.

"well i would love to hear how you guys got together!" the other drunk guy laughs, excited to listen into some gossip.

your voice is tuned out by diluc as he's practically humping your hand, trying to hide his desperation as you tease him.

you run your hand over his tip and speed up your pace. diluc lets out a wince when you use your thumb to press harshly under his tip.

this goes on for what felt like an eternity (20 minutes) of you stopping when diluc was close, continuously edging him as he started to crumble.

one of the guys notices diluc's strange expression, but was too tipsy to care. only if they saw the dirty things you were doing to your partner.

at the end of your story, you happily giggle "and that's how we started dating!" as you rest your head on his shoulder, giving a devilish smile as you squeeze his dick as he lets out a continuous flow of precum. he lets out a choked moan as he covers his mouth, tears forming in his eyes.

"can you guys be a dear and help us escort the others out of the tavern? we're closing soon and diluc is having a bad headache right now." you say, feigning an apologetic look.

although the guys are drunk, they try to do what they're told. stumbling around to wake up other patrons.

diluc is looking at you with a dazed expression, not to quietly begging for your touch. "why- why did you stop?" he whined in your ear.

"i can't have others seeing your cute cumming expression." you glance over at him, then at the drunkards leaving the tavern.

"now why don't you tidy up that disheveled look of yours and call charles to close up?" gently grabbing his face, you brush away the strands sticking to his skin as you kiss his cheek.

"but i need you now" his appearance is a mess, but you love it. messy, red hair that's slipping out of his hairtie, his white top that's slightly transparent has sweat clinging onto his skin, revealing his flushed body.

he grabs onto your waist and ruts against your thigh. not caring that there's people around. he's lucky that everyone has left, venti included.

you tug his hair, pulling him away from you. "you’re humping my leg like a dog and you’re not closing up? do you want me to fuck you here, at your own workplace? you should’ve told me earlier, i would’ve fucked you in front of everyone.”

diluc lets out a loud moan at the thought of that. giving a show to the drunkards at his tavern. this is something he’ll never tell a soul, but you know his kinks and how much he’ll get off at being watched by others.

“now help me close up so we can continue this at home.” you pat his ass and start walking towards the door.

“h-hold on,” diluc frantically zips up his pants and follows you out the door. his bulge is still prominent but the night will help conceal it.

he knows that charles will be there for the morning shift to clean up. but how will diluc explain the weird stain on the wooden floor and bar table? oh well; that’s not his priority right now.

this is not proof-read but i hope you enjoy this work. i've never written actual smut before, just suggestive works. should i do that for my next fic?

#dom reader #dom fem reader #dom!reader #diluc x reader #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #sub diluc #genshin impact #dom male reader #sub!character #diluc ragnivindr x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines

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saymio · 15 hours ago

Text

Guns Aren't Toys

Pairing: Kang No-eul (guard 011) x Fem!reader

Summary: noeul loves you, she truly does. she wants to do whatever it takes to keep you safe, and all hers. so when you try to gain some independence from her....she decides its time to scare you into being hers forever.

Warning: dead dove do not eat, manipulation, gun play, carving/knife play, blood kink, dubcon, light bdsm (tying you to a bed), noeul is giving heavy yandere vibes, age gap, might be more but im too lazy to write it down

A/N: not proof read. english isn't my first language and I haven't written in so long, I'm sorry if its bad (MDNI)

6k Words

...

you befriended noeul not long after the games ended, at first you had no idea what she did..or who she even was. you didn't know where she came from, where she worked, you didn't even know her exact age. but nonetheless something about her compelled you to her. maybe it was the way she carried herself..she stayed lowkey but wasnt a pushover. or how cool and attractive she was...it always seemed like she knew what she was doing. whether it was something small like cooking an egg or folding clothes...she seemed so knowledgeable and aware of everything around her. to you noeul was your dream girl, she was so mysterious but also so interesting...so quiet but so compelling...

she was a regular at the coffee shop you used to work at. always ordering the same thing, a black coffee with no sugar. it fit her..sleek and to the point. she quickly became part of your daily routine... check out the hot older woman that would pass by everyday... but suddenly in the middle of the summer she stopped appearing at the coffee shop. at the time, you knew nothing about the woman, less than when you finally became her friend. only her face, coffee order and where she always sat. at the left corner of the cafe, she always seemed to ponder about something. she didn't look distressed when she would but.. she didn't look calm either. you wondered if she was on a vacation.. you hoped she was. you were getting nervous about the idea that she moved out of the city, she wouldn't leave just like that right? she'd be back, right?

days and days have passed and still no sign of noeul. you started to give up on the idea that she would be back, its been a week since she left and summer was nearing its end... it made you sulk and pout at the thought, not even getting the chance to have a real conversation with her... what a bu- ding..ding the sound of the door cut you away from your thoughts, at first you didn't even realize. maybe its been so long and your memory has started to get hazy, or you were just so tired you didn't bother to look at their face that much... but once she was Infront of you..you realized.. shes back!

"one black coffee with no sugar please." her monotone voice sounded like an angel just sung to you. you didn't even know her but god did you miss her sexy face. "you're back" you stared at her with soft eyes and a smile as you handed her the change from her drink. you didn't notice then but it caught her off guard. someone had noticed she was gone..were they welcoming her back? did they want to know why she was gone? why'd they even care..she didn't know them like that....but it still made a small part of her heart beat a little bit faster... "what happened to your cheek?" you were getting out your comfort zone, you were usually timid and too anxious to attempt small talk to a customer. especially one as attractive as the one standing Infront of your eyes. "nothing. thank you for the coffee." she rubbed her right cheek and walked off...usually youd leave it at that. you wouldn't interact with her again because it was clear she wasn't interested in your small talk.. but... what if she disappeared again? and what if this time she never came back? you didn't want to risk fumbling someone as perfect as her. the epitome of a seemingly perfect woman... you looked around the shop, making sure the coworker that never showed up that day didn't randomly appear...and making sure there wasnt any customer on their way inside. you slipped your apron off and slowly made your way to the corner noeul always sat at. "a..ahem...can I sit here...?" clearly nervous you shuffled with your fingers, looking away as to not make eye contact with her...it'd probably make things 10x more embarrassing if she said no. "yeah, you can" ... and with that the two of you formed a friendship that only grew as days passed. not knowing what kind of future awaited the two of you.

timeskip

its been around 2 years since the two of you met and well, you're both dating now. and have been for the past year.. you obviously know more about noeul now but shes still as mysterious as ever, you think its attractive though. and it seems a lot of her background is touchy so you don't push on it...shes only mentioned that she isn't from south korea once and that's about all you've gotten surrounding that...but what isn't attractive to you is how controlling shes been lately. at first you though it was cute. she wouldnt let you go out alone for too long or befriend anyone new without her knowing when you first started dating. that was pretty normal for a girl that had her strange tendencies, right?. what isn't normal is how she made you quit your job so you could be 'safe' at home. she wont allow you to be out alone at all. she doesnt even let you have any social media account..you were banned from all of it. you have to ask her to do everything if you can shower, watch TV, if you can eat. and its really starting to scare you. she put a lock on the bedroom door from the outside, and only she had the key. so you cant go anywhere when you two sleep unless you wake her up for permission. you never even realized how bad its gotten until it was too late. you were wearing rose tinted glasses, not letting yourself see how toxic shes gotten. and now that you've taken them off, you're far too deep in the rabbit hole to just climb your way out. she waits for you outside the bathroom, she doesn't let you lock any doors, you cant even be in a different room from her for more than 10 minutes before she barges in. the only time you truly feel safe and alone is when she leaves for around a week every summer.

youre nearing your 2 year anniversary with her. you'd be ecstatic if it weren't for the fact shes basically taken over your entire life. if it was bad 1 year in, it's horrible now. you can barely even breath without her staring holes into your face. you feel trapped and you're starting to regret ever approaching her that day. what happened to the noeul that was calm and well kept? the one that would help you with your uni work and tell you small stories about her life as a 19 year old. stories she thinks you can relate to since you're the same age. what happened to the noeul that would laugh at the jokes you'd make of her age. not minding it when you'd call her old because she knew you loved her age. now even mention it and she 'calmly' asks you "isn't this what you wanted? an older woman to slut you out?" normally your panties would've been soaked and you'd just ask her to eat you out at that moment but it feels so aggressive.. you're on edge around her, you don't want to make her upset... but you can never tell when you have because of her stoic face. she never seems to break the calm facial expressions she always has. either a smile or just no readable expression at all...

but there is good news, news that could maybe get you out of this mess. you were scared of her, not only that but you had no money. she was the one taking care of the both of you... so what if...you got a job? if you applied and they accepted you no way she would just force you to quit right? and maybe..maybe she'd change...so you wouldn't need to use the money to buy a small apartment for yourself

...

"I'm going now." noeul stares at you with a soft expression, one that will always melt your heart no matter what has happened between the two of you. "okay baby, please stay safe. I love you" you run into her arms, hugging her tightly before getting onto your tippy toes to give her a loving kiss. even though you're scared of her, scared of what she might do in the future...you still love her. with your entire life, and you really do mean it when you say it. her cold hands cup your face as she kisses your forehead. her soft lips leaving a warm feeling not only on your head but in your heart too. "here.." she pulls her right hand from her pocket, showing 2 silver keys and a small phone. ones for the front door, and the other is for all the other rooms in your apartment. "you already know the rules, right doll?" you hesitantly nodded as your smaller hands grabbed the two keys and phone from hers. "I'll still repeat them incase you forgot one. you arent allowed to leave the house unless you need to buy food, you cant stay up past 8pm, the phone is only for important calls, and you cannot talk to anyone. no one at all... you understand princess?" you nod your head slowly, looking up at noeul as she smiles. her smile isn't that genuine though. its more of a cold, forced smile... maybe one that's supposed to intimidate you into obeying her rules... but you already have a plan. and that plan breaks all those rules.... "I'll be back in a week like always, I love you. okay y/n?" she kisses you once more before leaving the space you two were once in, filling it with silence before you heard the soft click of the door closing.. you knew exactly what you needed to do now, you need to escape the tight grip she has on your life.

its been a day since noeul left to go do her weird murdered job. you know about the games but it doesnt phase you too much. not even when you first heard about it. you even thought it was a little thrilling.. your girlfriend kills people for money...shes scary..scary and hot. not only that but you were so in love you didn't even care. maybe she knew that. maybe that's why she told you, she knew she had you wrapped around her finger. but you were different now, you took off the glasses that diluted the world. you were facing it head on it with the hard truth. you love noeul with all your heart but...you don't want to be in a relationship where you're scared for your...life

you were so distracted in your thoughts you didnt even realize you walked past the store you wanted to apply to work at. the coffee shop you met noeul at .. where you found love.. you walked a couple steps back before you faced the brown and green door, the one you would see every day in the morning and night.. ding ding the sound of the door opening rang in your ears, the same sound as always. you should be happy at this moment, you're going to apply for a job.. you'll be able to escape noeuls crazy controlling life style... you should be happy...but why weren't you. you felt nothing but dread walking into that store. your stomach was doing flips, your palms were getting sweaty and you felt your heart beating outside your chest. thoughts started to flood your head as you stood there inside the cafe, like your feet were glued to the ground. .....but- noeul..I shouldn't do this. I'm breaking her trust. she trusts me I- but I need to get away..shes scary...but but but..... "y/n?" the familiar voice cut you away from your thoughts..you looked up and it was the lady you used to always work with. she was only a few years older than you but she was always the more childish one between the two. the both of you shared the same shift and you weren't friends but you were.. close strangers maybe? "a- minyoung... hello" you bowed awkwardly. not wanting to be rude but also not trying to come off as too respectful "y/n, hi! I thought I'd never see you again after you quit haha.." she joked, a little unsure but she has the compassion. "uh..are you here to apply for work?" she stared at you, anticipating your answer.. it felt like the same eyes you were giving noeul when she came back to the shop that day.. waiting for her to say yes to you. 'yeah I am..can I?" min young softly smiled at you and nodded. as if welcoming you back to the cafe. you felt a pang in your chest, like your heart was telling you no. to just listen to noeul and you'd be safe. but you had a feeling that wasnt true. you wanted to do your own things even if it meant leaving the woman you loved most. because at this point, you dont even recognize her

it didn't take long for you to get accepted..like at all. when you got home from the cafe you saw you already had a text message. "hello y/n, I'm pleased to inform you that your application has been accepted. thank you for applying. you come into work starting tomorrow :)" it was honestly no surprise to you that they accepted your work application so quickly. not to sound cocky but you were undoubtedly the best worker they had, if someone didn't show up you'd come in their space, you wouldn't flirt with customers you made the coffee perfectly, you'd clean up the cafe before closing the store up, you never made mistakes. and it was even more impressive when your coworkers almost always didn't show up or do anything..other than minyoung. you smiled to yourself, was this truly the start of a new life? were you finally going to be free from noeuls grasp? you still felt sad, like you were breaking the trust she had in you but...you just wanted to be free...and maybe...maybe this could change her mind and she'd be less strict with you. it could go back to when you first started dating..she wouldnt control every aspect of your life. that's all you wanted right now.

you were losing track of how many days you'd been working. not paying attention to if noeul overstayed her work trip, or if it was even the day she was coming back. you were just happy to finally be back at work, with minyoung. the two of you were a lot closer now..closer than before. you two again shared the same schedule. right now she was drawing on the palm of your hand, you had no idea what it was but you were holding in your giggle and trying your best to stay still since the pen was tickling your palm. it seemed as if she drew a cat and was drawing numbers, you weren't really paying attention now though. you were staring outside the window..looking at the now setting sun. minyoung would drive you home everyday, your shift didn't end until it was dark and she didn't want anything to happen to you.. but you suddenly felt a strong sense of dread, like something bad was going to happen...and it was going to happen quick. "uhh..minyoung" you spoke with an obvious edge to your voice, it was almost shaky with nervousness. but it seemed she didn't pick up on that as she only hummed at you and stayed focused on your palm. "do you feel nervous too? I dont know...I just feel scared right now" minyoung stared up at you confused and worried.. "huh? I dont feel it..no.. do you want to go home early? maybe you're sick" you shook your head no and stares down at your palm, the ink started to smear a little. your palms were getting sweaty..you were only getting more nervous.. before you could mutter another word the cafe door flung open, a loud bang over powering the ding the door usually made when opened. you and minyoung flinched and jumped back as you stared at the person there. it was noeul..she clearly ran her way here on foot..you had no idea from where but she was gasping and sweat lined her forehead..not only was she sweating but a scowl covered her face. she was angry...and she was angry at you. minyoung leaned into your ear and quickly whispered something... "isn't that the lady that used to always come by? sh-" noeul loudly interrupted your coworker, the loudness of her voice startled you both. it was like there was a megaphone connected inside her throat.. "y/n. come here. now." she stood right in front of the cafe door, you were stunned. you didn't know what to do. it was like your mind was focused on only noeul because for a bit you forgot minyoung was even there. "don't make me ask again, doll." her voice was stern but gentle. it wasn't loud and upset like just a moment ago...but you were still scared of her...of what she'd do.. you gulped down the lump forming in your throat and took off your apron. you opened the small door that separated the baristas and the customers, with a light click it was free... you slowly walked towards noeul, you were anxious..and nervous. she wouldnt do anything to you right? especially not Infront of someone else.. you were now facing her, her sharp features stared at you like daggers. her seemingly dark soulless eyes only made you shake harder..you were terrified. "noeul i-" before you could even muster the rest of your sentence she gripped at your hair and pulled you out of the store. you shrieked and clawed at the hand that griped at your hair but it was no use..noeul was a lot stronger than you and you knew now that you messed up..big time. "p-please noeul stop AH! please please stop noeul that hurts that hurts it hurts please!" your pleas fell on deaf ears as she only dragged you down the street before stopping infront of a taxi. "take us to ----- please" you were blacking out, your head was fuzzy. you didn't know what to do you were so scared. you never thought noeul would actually hurt you, but she was. she was hurting you. and it hurt...alot... the man stared at noeul and at you, wary of letting a potential kidnapper inside his car. "this is just a kink of ours. don't worry" he stares at you waiting for any kind of response...you didn't know what to do...so you just nodded.. noeul opened the taxi door and pushed you inside.

just as noeul was moving her way inside the car you heard someone yelling your name..it was minyoung...she was running down the street frantically waving her hands at the taxi driver, trying her best to get him to not go so she could save (?) you from noeul. but it didn't work.. "go, I'll pay you more if you get us there quickly." noeuls deadpan voice only sent shivers down your spine, she was so calm. even when she was basically kidnapping you. "yes ma'am." and like that the car started and drove off, leaving minyoung there as she slumped down onto the ground..crying out of fear for you.

you were at the apartment you two shared, you were sitting on a chair at the dining table. occasionally shifting in your chair, causing it to creak under the pressure...youre only staring at your lap, refusing to stare at noeul. you're scared that if you do, youll fall into pieces in front of her...that's only an opening to getting taken advantage of. "why'd you try leaving me. why'd you break my rules. I told you clearly, but look at you now. do you know why I put up these rules?" right at the other end of the table sat noeul. her dark eyes drilling holes into your head, her voice was calm but irritated. all she wanted was for you to stay safe, so why. why dont you want to obey? "i-..I just want freedom..you're always behind me..supervising me like I'm some delicate child..I don't want it anymore" the two of you barely started speaking but you were already tearing up, you just want noeul to love you normally. you want your relationship to be normal. "y/n. you are a child. you are a helpless child. you're barely in your twenties. do you really think you can strive alone in this cruel world? you live comfortably with me because I take care of you. I keep you safe. you don't need freedom. you need safety and that's with me." her voice only got deeper and more aggressive. she was getting upset, just hearing you say you wanted to do your own things made her want to lock you inside your bedroom forever. "you're so naive y/n. you really think the world would be as nice as I've been to you? you're wrong. you wont survive without me and you know it. stop trying to be independent because we both know you'd be dead without me." tears started to stream down your plush cheeks, your nose was getting runny and your voice was getting shaky. you felt your throat close up, you felt like you couldn't speak. you didn't know what to do. "i-..I just want to be free..i- dont feel safe around you i-" a loud bang filled the small living room the both of you were sat in. noeul had slammed her hand onto the table, startling you and making you jump. this just caused you to cry harder. you were just scared, you were scared of her. you just wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide. "scared of me? you? you're scared of me? who approached me first? who told me she liked me first? who make the first moves? it was all you y/n. you did everything. it's you're fault you're with me and now you have to deal with it. cant you just realize I'm keeping you safe? you were born to be mine. why cant you just let it process in your brain?" aa..there it was. she had a habit of turning things and pinning it onto you. you were tired of it, you were tired of this. "you always end up blaming me! why am I always wrong? why cant you just admit what you're doing is wrong! I cant even breath without you staring me down! I'd just be better off without you...not living in fear.." you sobbed into your hands, you were shaking and crying. was this a break up? were you breaking up? noeul hasn't said anything, she wasn't even moved..so maybe it was... but what you didn't know, those words to noeul were like stab into her heart. if you thought you were better off without her. then she had to show you that you truly weren't. youre nothing but a lost puppy without her... you wiped your salty tears with your sleeves, you eyes felt puffy and you were tired..maybe you'd just sleep in an alley way tonight and figure the rest out later...you got up slowly, and made your way to the front door...you were going to leave..you were doing it..you were free from her grasp.. just as your soft hands touched the cold door knob you felt something hard hit you in the back of the head...and before you knew it you fell to the floor and blacked out.

you woke up gasping for air, you were hyperventilating.. gasping loudly and uncontrollably, looking around and all you saw was darkness you couldn't see anything. you tried to get up and you felt your hands being tied down...you were handcuffed to the bed.. you started freaking out, crying as you tried to calm yourself down. "noeul..please...I'm sorry.." your words were barely over a whisper, you choked out quiet sobs as you just let yourself lay there. you had no way out. and you're slowly starting to realize this... click noeul turned on one of the bedroom lights, giving it enough light for you to look around. but not enough to light up the whole room. "princess..." your eyes snapped up, staring at the figure in front of your bed...lean and tall..it was noeul.. the shadows of her face making her features even sharper than before. she was like a wood carving..every detail was meticulously carved and shaped... "n-noeul..please..I'm sorry.. let me go.." tears staining the collar of your sweater, you stared up at her. desperate for her help. "nope." she deadpanned, but her face wasn't stoic. she was smiling..the same smile she gave you before she left for her job. it wasn't genuine. it was sinister..and intimidating. "who was that girl? the one that chased after you when we left. was that your new girlfriend? is she why you're trying to leave me?" your eyes widen as you shake your head frantically. the last thing you want her to assume you're doing is cheating..especially right now. "n-no I'm not close to her like that! shes just my old co worker.. she isn't even my friend..." you gulp, your throat feels dry and your head is getting fuzzy. she believes you right? she'll let you go once she realizes you're telling the truth.. right? her icecold face feels like its burning you, you cant tell what shes thinking. and it scares you shitless. "yeah. so is that why she wrote her number on your hand? or are you gonna keep acting stupid." wait..what? you stared at her with genuine confusion, unsure what she was talking about. and its not like you could stare at your hand to check..and she caught on your confusion. she knows how you act. you've been together for 2 years now..she knows you. "she wrote her number on your hand. I guess you didn't know though...why would you let someone else touch you though. or speak to you." you stared at her...you didn't know what to say...so you just looked away and stayed quiet. you didn't want to trigger her even more.. "I guess I'll just have to show you that you're mine. and mark you while I'm at it too.." she smiles, her eerie smile..as always... she turned around and walked towards a nightstand near the bed, she opened the top cabinet and took out two things that made your breath hitch in your throat. a knife and a barrel. you started to kick your feet and squirm under the restraints she put on you. you dont want to die...you don't want to die like this.. "don't worry doll, I wont you....I'll just..show you that you belong to me" he sets the gun down next to you before lifting your skirt and grazing the knife on your plush thighs. you started to cry, the feeling of the cold metal touching your skin was terrifying. what if she cuts deep? what if it gets infected? what if- your body jolts up at the stinging feeling that's overwhelming your right thigh. you cant look at it. you cant. but you can feel warm blood drip from your thigh and on to the blanket under you. youre shaking uncontrollably now..you don't know what to do..you cant do anything either way.. you stare down and watch her as she carefully moves the sharp knife on the skin of your thigh. your blood painting the knife red as she carves her name on your thigh.. KANG NO EUL the cuts are large, it takes up half your thigh...you can feel the stinging..it hurts...the blood...you feel dizzy... and if the fact noeul just carved her name onto you wasn't bad enough, her licking the blood off of you made it worse. "your blood tastes nice...i can only wonder how you taste. hm?... I already know ofcourse.. but I forgot already."

she smiled up at you, but her smile was different..not full of anger..but desire. maybe it was how her eyes looked. or the context of what just happened but..it made you feel some way. "a-are you done now..I'm scared..." noeul stares at you, a blank stare and leans down and licks ur cheek so slow that it makes you almost uncomfortable .. "youre so cute when you're scared. it makes me horny.. did you know that?" she gave you her infamous smile before quickly grabbing the gun next to you and pointing it at your head.. if you weren't scared before you definitely were now. "you wanna live, right baby?" you nodded like a madman, your eyes looking up at her. pleading with her for your life with just your eyes... but if noeul had a dick it'd be ripping through her pants right now, staring at you so vulnerable and scared..it makes her so horny. you're so weak..she needs to ruin you.. she tapped the tip of the gun onto your lips as she looked at you with a creepy wide grin, her soulless eyes scrunching up in the corner. "deep throat the gun and you'll live." what...w- you cant do that.. its a gun...guns aren't toys to mess around with..you...you don't want to.. "if you dont want to that's fine. ill just pull the trigger and leave you here dead. are you gonna be smart, or stupid y/n." you gulped down, your mouth was dry and you felt like you'd die of dehydration at any second. your lips quivered as you opened your mouth wide enough for noeul to push the gun into your mouth. you started to suck at the gun, occasionally gagging as noeul pushed the gun too far into your throat. your movements were limited as your arms were still chained onto the bed frame. wet noises filled the room and you sucked on the gun as if it were a dick. your spit dripping off your chin and the gun. "ffucck..if I knew how hot this would be before i wouldve made you do this ages ago.." your face started to heat up, your face pounding inside your chest as you stared at noeul. her breathing was getting heavy and uncoordinated... she was getting turned on. your mouth made wet slurping noises, you were doing good and haven't stopped..until you flinched and took the gun out of your mouth.. noeuls thumb sneaked under your skirt and had started to make circles around your clothed clit. you held in your noises but some snuck their way through. noeul looked up at you, face a bit flushed and stared at your mouth.. "who told you could take the barrel out of your mouth?" you flinched eyes zapped around the room, as if looking for someone who could potentially be looking at the two you before stuffing your mouth with the gun again. you started up at her with wide dilated pupils, your huge eyes now burning holes into her head. and God did she love it. your face was flushed red as you felt noeuls fingers slip your panties off, the cold air of the room hit your pussy as you shivered under the cold air. the stinging, the cold air, the metal of the gun.. all your senses are getting overwhelmed you don't even know what's happening. noeul takes the gun out of your mouth, giving you a chance to properly breathe. your rabid breaths and wet lips would drive any sane person insane. "fuck you're so sexy, js wanna ruin your body.." her other hand walked its way up your torso and your lips, she opened her mouth slightly..instructing you to do the same. you opened your mouth and let noeul shove 2 of her long fingers inside your mouth. the cold skin was a contrast to your warm wet mouth...you started to suck at them harshly, like you would die if you didn't. noeuls other hand started to rub your clit, causing you to shake and shiver under her touch... she was playing around with you, teasing you...until you finally felt two of her fingers go inside of you.. you moaned embarrassingly loud against her fingers as she moved her fingers in a rough pace. curling them, making a scissoring motion, plowing them in and out... it all hurt you, it felt like she was trying to split you in half.

your pussy made disgusting wet sounds, it was so loud it filled the room.. not only that but the sounds your mouth made as you were sucking on her other fingers made it considerably worse. "n-noeul ah- mh..fuck it hurts s-stop..." your words were a little muffled but the message still got out..it hurt and you didn't like that... noeul stared at you before slamming her fingers in and out of you insanely fast. it made you choke out a mix of a moan and screech because it just hurt so bad but also felt so so so good. noeul leaned down and was inches away from your face, her hot breath tickling your soft skin.. "you don't get to decide what I do to you. I'll ruin your body today and you wont be able to do shit about it." she grinned before taking her face away from yours. she shoved her fingers out of your mouth with a pop before slapping her hand hard against your tender cheek. leaving a red spot before rubbing the warm skin... "you understand?" her soft eyes stared into yours, you felt...weirdly safe? you couldn't pin point what you felt but it was nice.... "y..yeess ah- oh....noeul...fuck.." you arched your back against the bed, you felt yourself getting closer and closer..her fingers filling up your cunt as your juices dripped onto the blanket underneath you, some of it mixing with the now dried blood there too. "are you getting close baby?" her fingers goings faster and faster, at a speed you weren't sure was humanly possible. you nodded frantically, trying your best to grind onto her fingers even if you could barely move with the restraints tied to your wrist. "nope!"she gave a creepily happy expression before taking her fingers out of your cunt. "you don't really deserve it yet."

the two of you were at the dining table again, she had uncuffed you from the bed. and now you were sitting at the table you sat at only a few hours ago...your legs forced open, showing off for noeul. "you're so pretty...and delicate.." noeul got up from her chair and walked over to you grabbing the knife she used to cut your thigh. she traced it along your skin, making small patterns with it but never pressing hard enough to actually cut you. "you'd do anything for me right? you've realized how important I am to you right?" your voice feels shaking and sore, you don't know if you should say yes or no...but you had a feeling you'd die if you said no.. "y-yes mommy..i-..id do anything for you... m' entire world..." you looked up at her, you had no idea what was taking over you. you were just so fucking horny for her. you needed her so bad even if you were terrified. you raised your legs a little and used your fingers to spread your pussy for her. "u-use me up please..." she grinned at you, she stared at you like a proud mother... like the mother you never had.. "good girl..." she patted your head, like she was petting a stray dog she found off the side of the street...like you weren't nothing more than a little pet for her to use. "then fuck yourself with this gun." she reached her hand behind her, setting down the knife and grabbing the barrel that sat at the table. usually you'd be freaking out right now, squirming in your chair and pleading with her to just pick anything else but..you weren't. you were just so needy for her, you needed to make her proud. forgive you for being bad...and..its not like its much different compared to deep throating one right?

your slick juices covered the cold metal of the gun as you started to insert it in you. it was large and it felt a lot more..unique..than what you're used to.. you pumped it in and out of your cunt, it was making loud noises and you were moaning and gasping at the feeling...it felt surprisingly good...you wanted more..more..more...you shoved it deeper and deeper inside of your gummy hole until you just couldn't put more inside, you were grinding onto it. moaning and letting whines and whimpers escape your mouth. you stared up at noeul noticing her usually calm stoic face flushed and scrunching up. she was touching herself to you. rubbing her clit as she watched you fuck yourself with the gun shes used to kill a few people in her life..it was so thrilling...so fucking hot. "n-noeul..can I cum..please ah-.." you were gasping, squirming and panting. you wanted to cum...she didn't let you cum on her fingers and you were twitching with neediness. you wanted to release..you could feel it coming and you weren't sure if you could hold back any longer.. "y..yeah..go ahead sweet heart..cum for me..ffuuck.." based on her breathing and the shakiness in her tone..she was close too...you moved it in and out of your cunt, sticky wet liquids all over your inner thighs, gun and some on your hands...you need this..you needed to release you need to.. "a-aah aou..ahh~ mm..yes..yes...ou m cumming m cumahh~!" your loud voice echoed throughout the apartment. your back arching against the chain as you came all over the gun, it felt so good..so fucking good... "that was so hot y/n...fuck...I need more of you.. now."

...

Another note:was the ending too abrupt? sorry if it was fue fue T T n sorry if the story seems too rushed esp the ending...bc it was.. I haven't written in a while so,, sorry if most of this sucked or felt repetitive>.< ....

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peachesofteal · 15 hours ago

Text

MELOS (PART TWO)

main masterlist / Azriel's masterlist

Part One 5k words - AO3 Tags: 18+ mdni. Blood, feelings of fear and panic. Reader POV. Trauma. Protective Azriel. Canon-compliant, post ACOSF and HOFAS. "I would spend a lifetime earning your forgiveness"

The fly amanita has been eluding you.

It’s speckled red cap is usually so easy to spot, but you’ve been trudging through the woods all day, turning over logs and peering around tree trunks to no avail. You’re getting closer and closer to the break in the forest, the one bordering a large meadow rich with wildflowers, the one you hardly venture to unless you’re truly desperate for something specific.

You’re seriously considering it when something dusky red catches your attention from the corner of your eye, and you breathe a sigh of relief as you spot the healthy patch of fungi. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you sink to your knees, digging down to the roots. The soil is wet, freshly damp from a recent rainstorm, and it sticks to your fingertips. “Such a pain in-“

Magic scrapes at your skin. Long gruesome fingers of something unseen try to clutch at you, drag you away, and your power surges to meet it, beating it back to the gloom it calls home. You shudder. The magic from your mother's blood, the gifts the Middle grants you, are enough to keep you safe, protect you from most things in this place, the ones nefarious and full of malice, but that does not mean they do not try.

You exhale, breathing freely in the crisp winter breeze whispering through the trees, rustling the deadfall into small vortexes that spin across the wood, twisting upward in a delicate dance of changing seasons. You lift your face to the sun just as the wind turns dark, smoky grey, and then explodes in a burst of ink, onyx spilling around the mushrooms, wisps snaking through the stems towards your knees.

You swat them away.

Azriel.

You grit your teeth. Don't think about him, don't think about him, don't think-

A shadow brushes against you like a feather, and you hiss.

Azriel.

The male who tortured you. Used you. Gained your trust to hurt you. Suffocated you until you thought you were going to die, until spots appeared in your vision and your heart slowed. The male that hurt you, in more ways than one.

Fooled into falling for a ruse, you believed it meant something every time your heart thundered when he was near, how your magic crooned for him, tried to reach for him, touch him. The pain you saw in him, over and over again, a mirror to your own, led you to believe in a fairy tale that never existed, a stupid notion about two halves of a whole, only for it to crumble and reveal manipulation and lies.

And after it all, whatever he gleaned from you he must have determined to be inconsequential, since no one has shown up at your door to haul you away for execution. No one came to imprison you, or banish you, or torture you, again. No one came to take you away from your home, your life, like you were expecting.

He did it for nothing.

The shadows are an ever-present reminder.

Ever. Present.

They collect in the corners at work, they trail along the ground as you run your errands, go to dinner, visit your only friend in the city.

Thankfully, they seem to stay out of your house, though in the middle of the night, it’s not so easy to tell.

You shoot them a glare. “Run back to your master and leave me alone, for the hundredth time.” You have no concept of a Shadowsinger’s magic, or an Illyrian’s, no idea if the shadows see, or hear, or speak. Their presence frustrates you, and his hoarse attempt at an apology that night still haunts you. Why does he not just come to speak with you? Explain himself? Justify his actions?

It’s been weeks, and still nothing. Silence from the Spymaster. Your rage that was once all consuming is starting to cool, leaving a mess of confusion and pain in its place.

You need to let it go, you must, but the music persists, faintly there in the back of your mind, a melody you can’t forget.

It’s a double-edged sword, one that slices and stings. You see him in your nightmares, and your dreams. In the dark, you hear his voice, cold and calculating, pacing around you in a suffocating circle, and in the sun, you see him in the Middle, ablaze in a mist of brilliant blue, brushing his lips against yours.

You’ve grown familiar with how a room changes when one of the Wraith sisters arrive. Shadow rolls in like a fog, dissipating as they materialize, grey gossamer turning to smoky quartz, taking shape as a beautiful female, her eyes iridescent like black pearls.

Rarely, do the twins ever come together.

Today is the exception.

Cerridwen gives you a half smile, gaze lingering on your clothes. “If I made you a new frock, would you throw this one out? It’s nearly in tatters.” You huff.

“This is my work frock; it’s supposed to be a bit messy.”

“It’s not messy, it’s falling apart.” She raises an eyebrow, and Nuala places a slender hand on the stack of brown paper wrapped packages on the table.

“How are you?” The question is loaded, expectant, and they watch you, analyzing every second of whatever is showing on your face.

“I’m fine.” Are you? The lie is so painfully obvious, and they exchange a look.

“Azriel,” Nuala begins cautiously, “has asked if you would be open to seeing him.” You freeze.

“I..”

“In a public place of your choosing, in the city.” The very idea tips you off balance, blindsides you. Could you do it? See him?

“With a third party, if you would like.” Cerridwen adds. Maybe this is your chance at closure, an opportunity to put it to rest. “Take some time to decide, and we’ll-“

“No, no. I’ll do it.” You scramble to think of a place where you’ll feel safe, somewhere you’ll be among many, and not few. “Is… Rose and Thorn okay? It’s in the Palace of Thread and Jewels.” They nod.

“Of course. And a third party?” You shake your head. Something in your soul assures you no chaperone is needed, and you allow it to guide you. “Very well.” Nuala waves her hand, wisps of storm clouds floating around her fingers-

And then Wraith sisters are gone.

He’s there before you.

Seated at a table outside, elegant and sculpted, an exquisite, eldritch beauty accentuated by strong, chiseled lines. His skin glows golden brown in the warm bath of the sun, flecks of caramel and green, honey and oak painted together like a priceless landscape in his irises. His wings are tucked in a tight formation at his back, but even in restraint, they shudder, their membranes more unique than a snowflake, more delicate than a spider’s web.

He’s almost too stunning to look at. The beauty of a god. A prince of shadow, shining in winter’s glow.

Suddenly, you’re very self-conscious, fighting the urge to pick at the frayed threads of your dress, too aware of how faded its once emerald green is, how fast your heart is beating, anxiety and pin pricks of fear cascading up your spine, coupled with an undeniable longing that shakes you to your core.

An ocean tide too strong drags your eyes to his, holding you captive in its current, the two of you suspended, floating, woven together in a melody, same song you’ve been hearing, feeling, all this time, elusive, empyreal notes harmonizing across your soul, your magic. The heat of the patio, magic humming in the air producing the equivalent of a warm spring day, urges you out of the cold and towards the table, meeting him where he stands, so tall he towers over you.

“Hello.” Your stomach flips. This is suddenly harder than you imagined, and you’re being torn in two, afraid and yearning, two sides of a coin. His eyes gentle, and he moves back a fraction, giving you space. You manage to clear your throat.

“Hi.” You can’t look away, and finally, after a second turned eternity, he motions to the chair.

“Would you like to sit?”

“Sure.” The words are stiff, like your back, and you hold yourself rigid, hands clasped together in your lap.

“Thank you for coming, I… I know this was a lot to ask.” You nod, unable to make your mouth move. “Are you well?”

“Yes.” You’ll need more than one syllable answers to get through this, and you fight against the vice squeezing in around you, trying shake loose the battle raging in your blood. There's a need to protect yourself, fortify yourself... and another, one humming a song of wonder, of desire, a song you don't know the words to. He takes a deep breath.

“There’s nothing I can say to excuse what I did, and I know you have no reason to trust me, but I-“

"What you did? You tortured me, you terrorized me. You made me feel like I was dying. and I... why did you… why did you waste your time tricking me into thinking you were… we were… it was all fake.” Your voice breaks, and his eyes flash with despair. “You tricked me into trusting you, letting you get… close,” you study the tabletop, fingertips tracing loops in the woodgrain, trying to maintain your control. You can’t let him see how badly it hurts; how awful it is to know whatever you thought was happening between the two of you wasn’t real, how he's shattered your own trust in yourself. How could you not see the deceit? How could have fallen for such a blatant deception? How could you allow yourself to be hurt like that? These are the questions keeping you from sleep as they toss about in your mind, scolding you, chastising you for allowing yourself to be so weak. Stupid. “Why waste all that time if you were just going to do it? The act itself was... it was terrible but the manipulation, the lie that came with it, feels worse somehow.” Your cheeks heat with shame, mortified at the tears now blurring your vision, and his hand twitches, almost jerks towards yours before sliding away.

“There are no words in any language, anywhere, to tell you how sorry I am. I would spend a lifetime earning your forgiveness, if you’d let me.” Everything you want to fight back with, the words you wish to bury him with, die on your tongue as you stare at him with wide eyes. “I don’t deserve to see you or ask for a moment of your time. I don’t even deserve this chance you’ve given me today but… nothing was a trick, it was not fake. I was a fool.” You know you should say something, but still nothing comes, and there’s a rising uneasiness emanating from his, shadows shivering around him in a halo. “I would ask you to strike a bargain with me.” What?

“A bargain?” He nods solemnly, face set with resolve, foreign limerence weighed down by sorrow reflecting in his gaze.

“Allow me to spend some time with you, to show you how sorry I am, to prove how real it was, and in return, I will owe you a debt.” You fight to keep your face blank, smothering an outward ripple of shock. Maybe he’s gone insane.

“You… the Spymaster of the Night Court… would owe me a debt.” You chew on it, toss it around between your cheeks, try to digest the enormity of it. A debt could be anything, it’s a favor, a wish, a request that must be granted, no matter what it is. You could ask that he drink a vial of poison, and he’d have to do it. Could ask him to leave Pyrthian, and he’d have no choice. Most importantly, you could ask him to leave you alone. Forever. “And if I asked you to never speak to me again?” He winces.

“That would be your right.” This is a bad idea. Your magic trills, vibrating with a strange yearning, again guiding you away from the rational choice and into an agreement.

“I will see you once a week for a month, and in return, you will owe me a debt,” you extend your hand, “and swear not to harm me.” You add hastily, expecting him to refuse, or attempt to change the terms, but he meets you with zero hesitation.

The magic hits you like a gale force wind, wild and too strong, planting itself in your skin to push ink to the surface.

A tree.

The roots sprawl around your wrist, twisting upward into a trunk and then outward into branches, spreading wide until they’re nearly touching on the inside of your forearm. He snags a finger under the cuff of his shirt to reveal the tattoo’s twin, the concrete vow between the two of you plain as day.

What did you just do?

You’re taking advantage of the first meeting. Having a second with you, a powerful, formidable second, gives you an opportunity to trek into a more dangerous, more unstable part of the Middle in search of a rare mineral.

You’re also using it as punishment, irritated with the small twinge of guilt growing in your side. He strides along at your side silently, shadows skittering ahead across the forest floor, disappearing and reappearing at will, as if they’re scouting and reporting.

“Will you tell me where we’re going?” He finally asks, cocking his head to the side as you stop for a moment to catch your breath. He’s not winded at all, of course, and you’re starting to regret this choice, while also trying to avoid staring at him. Every time he moves into your line of sight, your palms sweat and you remember how his laugh sounded on the steps of your house, how he earnest he was when asking you questions. You remember the kiss, and the way his mouth felt upon yours. You remember it all, and butterflies take flight in your belly.

But being alone with him in a dangerous place such as this, is also a stark reminder. A reminder of the last time you were alone with the Spymaster, truly alone, and how it ended.

“There’s a cave a bit from here where a very rare crystal grows. Its mineral compound is a key piece to a specific elixir.” His lips twitch into a small, barely there smile, reading between the lines.

“You’ve brought me along for back up.” You smirk.

“You didn’t say what spending time together had to entail.” You shift your backpack. “It's just past this bog up ahead.” He stops short, eyes sharp, tensing.

“A bog?”

“Yes. You know… like a swamp?”

“Of Oorid?” You blink.

“You know the Bog of Oorid?”

“I’ve been there.” Now it’s your turn to scrutinize him. Could you have underestimated this male, again?

“Why?” You shiver. You’ve visited the Bog before, twice, and left each time with a new scar, a new nightmare.

“We were looking for something.” We? Questions brew in the back of your mind, so many of them they’re hard to contain, but you’d hate to appear too interested in him and his adventures.

“Did you find it?” He nods and says nothing. Fine then. “It’s not the Bog of Oorid, just a boring swamp. C’mon.”

You withhold a key piece of information regarding the swamp.

It’s quite hateful, if you’re honest, and a small part of you weeps at your own vindictiveness, but the vengeful side feels too smug, too satisfied.

“It’s this way.” You take the lead, stepping into the ankle-deep muck. “Sorry, you’ll have to get a bit dirty.” The trees here are warped, bent to the undertow of the swamp, stripped of their life, yet still thriving, flourishing in the inert, foul water. Wicked, and greedy, they creak and coo, relishing each cursed step Azriel takes. Your magic crests, drawing up through the Middle, and you smile to yourself as the mud reaches mid-calf. Right about now-

He hisses.

“Are you alright?” You call innocently over your shoulder, now paces away, reveling in the sound of him fighting against the sludge's hold. When he doesn’t answer, your heart quickens, and you turn.

He’s shaking his head, wings flared at his back, muscles flexing beneath his leathers, trying to work himself free, and you bite your tongue to keep from telling him it won't work.

The swamp is a collector, a keeper of things, admirer of the rare and unusual. You’re sure it’s never ensnared an Illyrian before.

“Careful,” you sing, “struggling makes it worse.” He’s knee deep but surprises you when he breaks a leg free and takes another step, cobalt blue siphons beginning to gleam, shining into the dark green stagnant water and pockets of mire. Interesting.

“Clever little witch.” He's amused, reverent, and you're irritated by his reaction. “How does it not trap you?” Keening echoes through your soul, frantic and tortured. It’s reaching for something, crying for something, steeped in a distress you don’t understand. An incessant tugging, the faint sound of a melody. A chiming of bells, ringing, and ringing, and ringing. You steady yourself with a deep breath.

“I ask it not to. My magic comes from the Middle, like my mother’s. It makes things... more amenable to me.” You make it sound far worse than it is to spook him, but he only watches you with interest, keen eyes dissecting you from the inside out.

“And will you ask it to release me?”

“Maybe.” You shrug. He sinks farther, now trapped to his mid-thigh, and your pulse races. You had planned to leave him here, trap him here until you came back, but your magic is clawing at you, heart trying to beat out of your chest, fear and panic colliding with an instinct buried so deep, it can’t be cut out or ignored, an instinct trying to push you into his arms, pleading with you to help him. It hurts, trying to fight it is like trying to swim against a current, your muscles screaming at the struggle, your power thrashing in your veins. The music is no longer a delicate, enchanting thing but a symphony flowing into a fortissimo, brass and strings and keys digging into your soul.

It's too much, your heart pounds in your ears, magic shredding your restraint.

It's too much, and you long to go to him.

Release him, you command the swamp, and it tightens its embrace, a lover clinging to another, refusing to relent.

Is this not for me?

No. He is mine. Release him. Now. You press onward, urging the swamp to relax, it’s reluctant acquiesce bringing you a relief so strong you have to hold yourself steady. It recedes, and the two of you stand face to face, chests heaving. You don’t understand what’s happening to you, what this war that rages in your magic, your heart, your entire being means.

He closes his eyes, the shadows receding, disappearing entirely as he takes a long, measured breath, his hand pressing against his ribs, still deep in the dredge of the fen.

"Are you alr-"

“Is there anything else I should be aware of, before we continue?” He cuts you off, the heat radiating from his body coming in waves, and you push against the pull.

“No.” You croak. He inclines his head.

“Very well. Lead the way.”

“Why don’t you winnow here?” You're seated on a rock outside the mouth of the cave. The trek itself is the most dangerous part of this task, not the cave itself, and the crystal retrieval was uneventful. Boring, even, as you walked side by side with Azriel in silence, contemplating the unexpected amount of remorse over the swamp settling in your stomach like lead.

“I don’t winnow to most places in the Middle if I can help it.”

“No?”

“You never what will be waiting for you, or what you will discover, when you arrive.” You take a bite of your apple and sneak a glance at him. “You’re not angry. About the swamp.”

“No.” He’s preternaturally still, but rife with intensity, alight with an ache you can’t describe.

“Why?”

“I deserve far worse from you.” You say nothing, because what can you say? It’s true.

But if it’s true, why does it feel so awful?

You stand abruptly, eager to separate yourself from this situation, this confusion and confliction. “I should get these back.” Winnowing from the Middle, at least, is a perfectly safe option, and you’re eager for the escape now.

“Next week?” Your head is pounding, limbs twitching like your body has a will of its own, and suddenly you’re drained, magic and will quickly depleting. He steps closer, brows knitted together in concern. “Are you okay?” No.

“Y-yeah. I’m going to… I’m going to go.” He frowns.

“You look ill.”

“I’m just tired. The swamp takes it out of me.” You lie weakly with a halfhearted smile that lacks conviction, and before you can do something stupid like reach for him, you draw on your power, giving him one last look. “Next week.”

You’re at the Palace of Bone and Salt when it happens.

The market is packed to the brim, overflowing, most caught up in the approach of Winter Solstice. It’s still weeks out, but all are always eager to celebrate the city’s favorite holiday. Boughs of holly and evergreen, ribbons of red and green decorate the square, twinkling fae lights nestled high and low. You’re looking for bone marrow, but can’t help loitering by the chocolatier’s stall, his perfectly crafted confections artfully arranged in pyramids stretching far past your head. He catches your eye with a smile. “Would you like to try anything?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. They always look so lovely.” He pulls a pink chocolate swirl from the collection that’s caught your eye and holds it out to you.

“On the house then, for Solstice.”

“Thanks so-“ Your gratitude is stolen by a groan, one rattling upward from beneath your feet, the entire market rumbling so violently the stalls creak, their goods tipping to the side.

A quake.

They’re rare, but not unheard of. The mountains breathe, stretching and straining, the plates they’re built upon occasionally shifting and realigning, all of it causing Velaris’ foundation to shake. These things you know, but you’ve never experienced it firsthand, and you didn’t expect such… force.

The shopkeeper dives beneath his counter, others running in every direction through the market, panic and fear permeating the air. They’re looking for cover, afraid the second and third story buildings may come crashing down on their heads, while others try to outrun it, sprinting away as fast as they can manage.

It’s pandemonium. Everyone is being tossed around, marble and wood falling and rolling, and you’re frozen, rapidly trying to weigh the options, decide what to do when something catches your eye.

A child.

She’s standing in the middle of an aisle, screaming for her mum, and without hesitation, you snag her around the waist to tuck her into your chest, covering the back of her head as you curl into a ball and huddle beneath the counter of the first stall you see.

That’s where you stay, for the next ten minutes. Curved over this little girl who can’t be more than two, holding onto her as tight as you can to quell her screaming, trying to calm her. Things fall on you, something scrapes the side of your face, and it stings, but you don’t let go. You can’t.

You’re somewhere else in your mind. In the Middle as a child, running as fast as you can to the boundary, trying to get to safety as your mother howls. Claws scratch down your back, blackened, putrid magic tries to drag in the bowels of the forest, all while horrid shrieking and crying fills your head. The boundary is too far, and you fold yourself into a hollow, a damp, muddy nest inside the base of a tree where you hold your breath and sit really still, just like you were taught.

The quake ricochets around you, but the screeching in your ears is not from this time, this moment. It’s from then, you and this small child in your arms now the same, scared, alone, and crying for your mothers.

Even once the rumbling stops, you don’t move. Too afraid it will start again and you’ll be caught in the open, you wait. The sticky, festering sap of the memory clings to your synapses, refusing to let you go, embedding itself beneath your skull like it needs to live there, as if you could ever forget. There are moans from the injured, confusion and worry from those who took shelter, but multiple voices rise over the din of everyone else, giving instructions, looking for the wounded and those who need help immediately.

“- was right here, but she let go of my hand… there were too many-“ a frantic female’s voice echoes over through the market, and her terror is met by a kind, reassuring voice.

“We’ll find her.” The girl in your arms makes no attempt to free herself, still shivering in your hold, clinging to you with all her might, and you stay rooted to your spot.

There’s a brush of magic against your mind, a gentle caress that probes the dense sedge wall, and you push it away, opening your eyes to see a beautiful female crouched in front of you. “Hello.” The High Lady. The little girl finally moves, wriggling against you.

“Mara!” Her mother calls, rushing over and scooping her into her arms, sobbing. She looks her daughter over and then holds her tight before trying to approach you. “Thank you, thank you,” she’s reaching for your hand, trying to squeeze it in a manner of gratitude, of love, but you can’t move, still grappling with the noise ringing in your head. There’s more conversation, more of the High Lady’s voice, patient and gentle, and another’s, deeper, heavier.

“-shock, maybe?”

“-go get him,”

“Cassian-“ The second voice is enough to startle you back to yourself somewhat, and you carefully stretch your limbs, crawling out from under the counter and away from them, standing up on your own two feet. The High Lady holds her hand out as if you steady you. “Easy. You’re hurt.” Hurt? You instinctively touch your face, fingers coming back stained crimson. You need to get out of here, need to get as far away from all of this as you can. You’re still trying to right yourself, convince yourself you’re here, not there.

“Maybe you should sit down.” The other one, the big Illyrian who you met in this very place months ago, watches you with concern. You’re shaking, lungs expanding, searching for as much air as they can find, warm trickle of blood falling over your lips and down your chin. Pain registers slowly, no longer isolated to your face, but in your side too, and when you press your hand to your ribs, wet fabric squishes beneath it. More blood.

“Let's get you to a healer,” the High Lady tries, motioning to your head, your side, and when you don’t respond, she frowns, glancing at her companion. The wailing is finally quieting to a point where you can properly think, but words still won’t come, and she’s about to say something else when shadows swirl around the three of you, and Azriel drops from the sky.

Azriel. Your heart sings his name, and the double-edged sword cuts to the quick, opening you up to a strange spark in your chest.

He looks… awful. Insane, even. Wide eyes find you, his wings stretched into a defensive position, shadows spread around him in a dark cloud, and his fear is so palpable you swear you can feel it. All you can do is stare at him as he frantically takes you in, focus never wavering, even as he speaks to those at your side. “What happened?”

“We found her under here,” Cassian points to your hiding spot, “protecting a little girl. We think she’s in shock.”

“She needs a healer.” He grits, hands flexing and relaxing from flat palm into fist, repeatedly.

“We know.” The High Lady angles her body between you and the Shadowsinger. “Az,” her voice is serious, with an undercurrent of authority, “maybe you should back-“

“You need a healer.” He ignores her, and you shake your head. You need to get out of here, to get somewhere safe where you can try to rip out the rot of these memories still nipping at your heels.

“I need to go. Home, I need to go… home.” I need to go home? That’s the best you can come up with? Cassian snorts, and Azriel says your name, an edge of dominance cutting through the haze of your mind. The blood loss is making you woozy, and the ground is unsteady, continent turning over as you start to feel sluggish. Your vision grows blurry, and then there’s a hand on your cheek.

“Look at me, it's okay.” Azriel murmurs, and you try. You do. There’s something about his touch, the texture of his hands that soothes you, comforts you, but the world is falling away, and darkness is taking you, tugging you into the lull of sleep.

You curl your fingers into his shirt, a last-ditch effort at staying upright, at staying awake, looking up into a never-ending swirl of hazel, green moss and bright umber drenched in panic.

They’re the last thing you see before everything goes black and you slip under.

#peaches writes #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 1 day ago

Text

Twelve Days: Part 3**

Part 3 of this littel series! Thank you for your patience and for reading this story! I will create a post for all the parts soon! Hope you guys enjoy and feel free to send theories or any ideas that you guys would want me to consider incorporating.

Warnings: infidelity, break ups, mentions of depression and anxiety and their symptoms, mentions and use of alcohol and drugs, breast/ nipple play, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms

WC: 7.8K

Day Nine:

Harry’s POV:

Harry was still reeling from that steamy night you two had shared a couple days prior. He was relieved that you weren’t regretful of what had happened that night. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if you’d shut him out afterwards. He wasn’t regretful of what had happened but maybe just a little bit upset of how it had happened. He never wanted you to feel like he had done that because he was lonely, like you’d said then. Or worse, to get back at Julie for her infidelity. In all honesty, he just liked being around you more than he remembered.

He really was worried that this would feel out of the blue for you. But, meanwhile Julie was off with this Joe guy this time around, he was growing apart from her and his love for her was starting to fade. You were also dealing with a lot and he had wanted so badly to check in and to talk to you, to be there for you, but you had asked for space from everyone and he wanted to respect that. He felt that he could have reached out anyway, just to let you know that he had your back or was there to support if you ever needed it, but he hadn’t. And now, he was a bit concerned that this all would seem like a convenient time for him to get close all to just hook up with you.

The context in general just had his anxiety skyrocketing and he was struggling to play it cool. Even the fact that you were playing it so cool had him worrying just a bit more because he liked you! And maybe to you it was just a thing that you’d done in the heat of the moment and again, he’d end up with hurt feelings. He would jump at the opportunity to do it again though, that’s what was scary to him. And well, like he had mentioned to you before, it wasn’t like he was just realizing what a catch you were. He knew that from way before. And the more he got to know you over the years, the more he grew to care about. He had found himself admiring you before but it was never more than just a thought in the moment. When you started to date Ash you started to pull away from all of them and he didn’t like that. To him, it was red flag behavior to have a partner who always wanted you to change things for the relationship to work. You were sacrificing a lot to keep that relationship going. And sure, you put on a happy face when someone you love asks you to do something for them but moving to the other side of the country where you know no one? Being away from your family? You had done everything you could and still, you were left high and dry.

A part of him understood what you had said when you told him that you felt weak for letting Ash affect you that way. He was familiar with the feeling, he had allowed your sister’s infidelity slide before. In a way, what he had going with her would be better than retuning to England and be neglected by his own family. At least here he knew that your family loved him and supported him. He had friends that were like his family, colleagues and mentors that were like parent figures to him and helped him get to where he was now. For all of that, he felt that staying in an unhappy marriage wasn’t such a big price to pay. But like all things we compromise our happiness for, it started to take a toll and now, he needed Julie to let him go.

Y/N’s POV:

After your first sexual encounter with Harry it was relieving to know that you were both on the same page about it. However, there was still a lingering fear over how far it would go the next time. Would there even be a next time? Should there even be a next time? The day prior had just been spent at the house relaxing with everyone, there were thankfully no weird or tense vibes between you. You’d gone out to shop for the Christmas meal ingredients and the rest of the ladies decided to tag along, which you were a bit bummed about because you wanted to take the time to think about what the fuck you were going to do about this thing with Harry. He was important to you, you did have love for him to a certain degree because he was part of the family, but now you were attracted to him and that could easily become something else. Something more…and well that would be weird, wouldn’t?

“Y/N!” Your aunt raised her voice as she waved her hand in your face.

“Huh?” You asked as you finally snapped out of your thoughts.

“I wanted to know what wine the Christmas meal will pair well with?” She inquired. “I do prefer a white but depends on the red it goes with, I wouldn’t mind it.”

“I’m not too sure to be honest, just get what you like.” You assured her and she seemed satisfied with that answer before putting down the bottle of white she had picked up.

As you turned your gaze to find the scallions you locked eyes with your sister who gave you a slightly questioning gaze. To be fair, you did seem quite out of it and it wasn’t with no reason. You had a lot on your mind right now. When you located the scallions you started making your way over, not missing that she had followed after you.

“Hey, you good?” She asked you and you briefly turned to her and nodded.

“Yeah, just have a lot on my mind.” You explained.

“Mmm…with the holidays and all?” She asked and you just nodded. Obviously, she was asking if this had anything to do with Ash and you just agreed. “I do too. I’m really glad Harry got to be here for this. He really loves you guys and well, vice versa!” She explained, “But I do wish I could spend the holidays with well…” she trailed off.

“It’s that serious?”

“Yeah. Or at least to me. S’why he came a few days ago.” She said and you nodded. “I wonder what Harry’s gonna do when we split up…” she said quietly.

“I think he’ll be okay.” You assured her.

“Yeah… I do hope he finds happiness though.” She said and you felt your tummy do a funny flip when you wondered if you could make Harry happy? But that idea soured when you wondered if your sister would feel the same about Harry’s happiness if he wanted to explore that with you. Regardless, you let the thought go because it was a ridiculous one to ever consider. It’s not like anything with Harry could actually take off. You just offered her a smile before grabbing the little bunch of scallions and put them into the produce baggy.

“Hey, ummm…I really just need some alone time today. Could you maybe talk everyone into going out for dinner so I can just cook something for myself and unwind a little?” You asked and she smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, of course.” She assured you.

With that, you felt a bit more at ease. You were looking forward to having some quiet time in the evening. That was until your sister asked if she could come into your room.

“Yeah, come in!” You called out.

“Hey, would you mind if Harry stayed behind with you? He’s not up for acting like everything is perfect with us.” She explained. You felt your body warming up at the sound of that. “He’s goo about keeping to himself.” She added in, as if you needed any further convincing.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You mumbled back as nonchalantly as possible.

“Okay, thank you. I don’t know if you noticed that he’s been sleeping in the room over here?” She asked and you nodded.

“I heard him coming in one night.”

“Okay. But I did tell him you really wanted some space tonight so he’ll be mindful of that.” She assured you.

“Thank you for going these lengths.” You smiled at her.

“It’s the least I could do for you after…you heard me out so graciously and-”

“You don’t need to thank me for that.” You assured her and she nodded with a small smile.

“I’ll see you tonight then.”

“You can also take them to get drunk afterwards if you want…” you added and she chuckled.

“We’ll see where the night takes us!” She said before leaving you.

After everyone had gone, you emerged from the shower and lazed around for a few more minutes undisturbed, which seemed a little odd to you. So you made your way out to the kitchen, thinking that you might coax Harry out to join you, but you were nearly done with your carbonara and he had not come out. You’d made enough for him, so decided to go get him. Your gentle raps on his door were greeted by him slightly opening up for you.

“Hey, I made carbonara for us for dinner.” You informed him and his lips quirked up a bit.

“Oh great, I was just about to order in.” He explained and your brows knotted together in confusion.

“You were gonna eat alone?”

“Well yeah, you wanted space, no?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, that’s true but not necessarily from you.” You explained timidly and he smiled a bit wider. “Kinda thought you would’ve come to grab me the moment everyone was gone.”

“Normally yeah. But I just…I thought it was because of me, you know? That you needed some space.” He explained.

“Oh…ummm…I can’t say that our situation hasn’t been on my mind a lot.” You explained, “But it’s more to do with everyone looking at me like a wounded bird.” You explained and he smiled a bit. “Like I get it, but goes back to the pride thing we talked about before. I just hate that I feel like I’m doing good but then everyone looks at me like I’m not and it makes me feel like shit.” You elaborated.

“For the record you are not giving wounded bird vibes. It’s more non-combative and I think that scares your family a bit. They might think it’s a facade when it’s not. You’re just moving through the acceptance of it.” He said, “Well, at least that’s what I gathered from what I’ve seen and what we’ve talked about.”

“Well, thank you for…seeing me.” You said softly and he smiled. “So…do you want to have dinner with me?” You asked again. And he didn’t need any further coaxing before he was serving himself the other half of the food before you two were sat beside each other on stools around the kitchen island as you talked about how your days had gone. Your laughter had just died down from a story Harry had finished telling and you reached over to him.

“Wait, wait, wait….” You giggled. “You had sauce on your chin.” You laughed breathily as he held still for you to swipe it away with your thumb.

“Thanks.” He hummed as you pulled your hand away to wipe it on the napkin by your plate.

“Of course.” You assured him.

“I’ve been…thinking a lot about what happens when we go back home.” He said and the lightness of the mood started to fade.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… like I…I care about you a lot and I don’t want you to feel like I just used you and I too don’t want to feel… used. I think it would hurt a lot more coming from you.” He explained. “But then, I also understand that no matter how we go about this, it’ll look really bad on us if we decide to…you know?” He said inquisitively and your gaze softened as you started to read between the lines of what he was saying. Did he want to try to be with you? “I don’t even know what I’m saying any more just…forget about it.” He mumbled.

“Harry.” You sighed as you reached for his arm. Your palm anded gently over his bicep. He looked up at you from his empty plate. “I don’t know what the fuck we’re even doing but I know that I feel safe with you. I feel taken care of. You hear me and see me. And whether it’s right or wrong, I have a huge fucking crush on you too.” You admitted “Just saying, you know? In case you…didn’t pick up on that before.” You said with less confidence now as you started to feel a little uncertain of the vulnerability you had just displayed.

However, before you could second guess yourself any further, Harry was reaching for your face and leaning in as his lips kissed yours. You easily melted into his kiss and started leaning into him as well. And as your kiss grew more heated you had been moved onto the couch. You could feel his arousal through his pants and it was making you lose your self-control. You were obsessed with the way his arms squeezed around your waist so strongly, it made you feel small and delicate in his hold. It was different than with Ash, where you often felt like you were the one who did the caretaking. When he was holding you like this, you felt taken care. When he kissed you as deeply and intentionally as he was, you felt safe and warm from deep inside.

“Let me suck you off.” you mumbled again his lips and Harry inhaled sharply.

“You don’t have to.” He breathed out.

“I want to.” You assured him, “Really badly.” You added, your eyes bore into his gaze, asserting your desire. “Please?” You asked softly as you placed a single kiss on his lips and then pulled back. “Know you want me to, so stop pretending.” You hummed with a smirk as you kissed his chin, then his jaw, and then his neck, where you sucked gently.

Harry rolled his head to the side to give you the space to work down the column of his throat with your lips. You were gentle, to ensure you weren’t leaving any marks on him, no matter how badly you wanted to. Your hand started to slither up beneath his shirt, feeling up his abs and his taut chest before bringing your hand down to the elastic band of his sweats. Your finger teased at it before you slid back a bit on his lap, enough to grope around the bulge in his pants. He sighed shakily as you rubbed the heel of your palm over his cock back and forth, making him squirm beneath you. After a bit of teasing you started to slide down to your knees and there was no falsified chivalry on his end any more. Harry was rushing to slid his bottoms down to his ankles while you pulled one of the pillows to the ground to kneel more comfortably. And when his cock was standing tall before your face your mouth started to salivate. You were so impatient to get him into your mouth. You reached for him and give him a few gentle strokes. You smiled up at him as you heard his breath hitch. His hot and smooth skin was making you impatient, so you just lowered your face and gave a testing lick from the base to his tip.

“Fuck, please get me into your mouth.” He muttered desperately. You smirked up at him and proceeded to part your lips and sucked his tip between your lips. You let your tongue swirl around it, finding the underside of it and rubbing against it. You felt his thighs flex beneath one of your hands as he moaned deeply. “Fucking hell…”

You were wet just from hearing his lovely sounds as you sucked him off. You slowly started to take more, enjoying the feeling of his fingers tangling into your hair and helping you keep the pace that was making him shiver. He was bigger than your previous partners, so you were struggling with not being too sloppy, but he didn’t seem to mind it. Specially as you gagged around him as you tried to get him in all the way.

“Fuck, just use your hand for now. S’okay, you’ll get it eventually.” He assured you and that alone had your pussy fluttering, your walls were pulsing steadily from how turned on you were.

Harry was encouraging and vocal and it was the hottest thing that you’d ever experienced. Even more so as he held you gently by the head and started to thrust into your mouth, you relaxed your jaw to help him get in as deep as he was craving. His muttered curses and praises were music to your ears. Despite that tearfulness in your eyes, you were thinking about when the next opportunity you’d get to do this again would be. He was getting close to coming from what he was saying and you were desperate to get a taste of him. You started to suck around his tip again and started to stroke at the pace he’d been thrusting, taking over once again. You felt his body just relax into the couch as one of his hands skimmed over your cheek, feeling the bulge of his cock against it.

“I’m gonna come…fuck…” he moaned deeply as your hot, little mouth worked him to his climax. And moments later you could feel his body starting to tense up beneath you. His breath hitch and you glanced up at him, his head was thrown back into the cushions, eyes squeezed shut as his jaw started to slack until the deepest moan flowed from his mouth as he started to come. His hand went back to your hair, gripping it hard as he held you in place until you felt the first spurt of his cum pooling on your tongue. You moaned around him in response which made his cock twitch as he started to shoot more of his sperm into your mouth. You swallowed around him quickly before you felt a few more spurts fill your mouth with his warmth and flavor before he was panting and threading his fingers into your hair. His thighs were trembling as you gave a few gentle sucks to clean him off before you pulled away from his length and let it plop down against his thigh.

He was still half hard and it made you wonder if he’d get back to full size if you played with him ever so gently. But that plan was soon cut short as he pulled you up onto the couch until you were laying across it. Harry was laid on his side as he kissed you and help you get your own pants and under wear down your legs until his fingers were skimming over your labia and then sliding down to your entrance to feel your arousal. You were so fucking wet, it was embarrassing in the slightest. He spread your arousal around you and started to rub against your clit with two gentle fingers. The circular motions were dizzying as you kissed sloppily. Your legs were spread for him, allowing him ease of access while he pleasured you.

“Please.” You whispered as his two fingers teased at your entrance. He smirked and then sat up and placed the throw pillows beneath your back to prop you up enough against the inner corner of the couch and then he sunk down between your legs onto his knees. You had a perfect view of him kissing up your thighs as he guided one of your legs over his shoulder and held the other open by the back of your thigh and planted it against the couch.

When his lips met with your clit your walls clenched tight. Watching him was something different entirely, it was even more erotic to see him throw all caution out the window as he just buried his face between your legs. His hot, smooth tongue rolled over your clit in intentional swipes until you were trembling. You were pressing him even closer to you, grinding up against his face as you did everything you could to feel even more than you already were. When he finally put his fingers back in you were done for.

Two of his thick digits were gliding in and out of your little hole with ease. The soft squelching sounds of the friction was making you eve more wet for him. The way he was thrusting in and rubbing into your g-spot and then sucking on your throbbing little clit was making your vision blur with pleasure. You just wanted to come for him and if he kept this up you would be making a mess. It was too much in the absolute best way possible. Your blood was flowing hot and heavy through your veins, you were completely losing yourself as your hips started to grind into his movements all on their own. You were right on the edge, just needing a few more seconds of his merciless fingers prodding into your g-spot to get you to come. A broken cry left your mouth and then it happened. Despite how badly you wanted to watch, your eyes squeezed shut and your head rolled back into the pillows as you started to come.

“H-harry! Oh my god!” You gasped as he started to finger fuck you a bit harder and he started to rub at your clit with his thumb instead as he leaned over you now.

“Look at me. Right at me, baby.” He said lowly and your glassy eyes met with his and he smirked at the sight of you all fucked out from his fingers alone. “You’re squeezing so fucking hard. You’re gonna come again, aren't you?” He asked and you nodded, “Come on then. Come for me, baby.” He egged you on and kissed you to swallow down your sounds.

Your walls were spasming around his fingers erratically. Your thighs were trying to close around his body but couldn’t as he was in the way. But thankfully, his pace and intensity started to diminish enough that you started to relax. And when he pulled his fingers from you he sucked them clean before delving back into your space to kiss you. Your lips smeared together sloppily for a few more minutes as you caught your breath and came down from your orgasms.

“Alright?” He asked with a teasing smile and you nodded wordlessly, still reeling mentally. You pulled him back down for another kiss. This one was slow and deep, you both got lost in it for several minutes until the kiss ended naturally. “I really fucking like you.” Harry said softly and you felt your face going all hot with a blush.

“I really like you too.” You whispered back.

Day Ten:

To say that you were on cloud nine after your evening with Harry, was an understatement. You just felt good all around in a way that you hadn’t in quite a long while. Even the lingering concern of what you would do in regards to your sister wasn’t enough to break you out of this high you were feeling.

Not surprising, but everyone was pretty hungover from their dinner and drinks outing the night before. You and Harry had to go and pick then up nearly at 11pm. By then, you two had been cuddled up in your bed and watching a film but the call from Julie soon came for you two to come to their aid, one of you to drive them home and the other to drive back Julie’s car. All this to say that your morning was quiet. By the time you’d returned from your walk, showered, and sat for breakfast, only you and Harry were up and active and found yourselves on the lounge chairs, taking in some sun side by side. The look he gave you revealed that he wanted to be closer, but alas, that wasn’t possible in this particular setting.

It was past noon when your sister emerged from the pool house, she had ordered in some food and was going to get it. The door bell ringing is what roused everyone else and you and Harry made them breakfast for lunch and aided them in balancing out the effects of the hangover. You had retired to your bedroom for a bit and you perked up at the soft knocks on your door. You were fully expecting to see Harry but saw your sister peeking in instead.

“Hey, do you have a few minutes?” She asked and you nodded, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. She dropped onto your bed and exhaled shakily. “Thanks for keeping Harry entertained. I know it’s not your responsibility but-”

“Oh no, it’s alright. We get along well and I’ve liked having someone to talk to.”

“Okay. He seems to enjoy your company as well and ummm…I just…I don’t want you to get hurt any more. Like, maybe he’s doing other subconsciously, but I feel like he’s flirting with you a little just to make me jealous or upset? I don’t know…” she sighed and you felt a lump forming in your throat.

“I don’t get that feeling at all, Julie. I think that it’s nice for someone to see you and appreciate you when you haven’t had that for a long time. He’s not creepy and he doesn’t make me uncomfortable in any way. I think the way that you guys are all walking on eggshells around me trying to not make me feel overwhelmed with care, he’s just being a little bit more attentive towards me. That’s how he’s showing me that he cares about what I’ve been dealing with, you know?”

“And you’re okay with that?” She asked and you nodded.

“He’s not over bearing about it like mom and dad are.” You explained and she nodded in understanding. “Also, we’ve just…gotten a little closer with everything going on. We both needed someone to confide in, you know?”

“And what about me? I confided in you but you’re siding with him?” She asked and you sighed.

“It’s not that simple…I think we’re both in the position of being let down by people we were in love with.” You explained and she sighed.

“Right.”

“Yeah and it’s just…easier to be there for each other when we know what it is that we’re dealing with, you know?”

“Yeah. I get it.” She said curtly and then stood up wordlessly and left. You sighed and were tempted to go after her but decided to just give her some space before bringing it up again.

It was around dinner time when you had stepped out for a little smoke, you had skipped lunch and with this small tiff with your sister now on your mind, you weren’t feeling too hungry for dinner, but you needed to have something. Harry interrupted you and stepped out onto your small patio.

“Hey.” He greeted you and you smiled slightly.

“Hey…so my sister came by and basically wanted to know if I had noticed that you were being really friendly with me to piss her off.” you explained and he sighed. “I told her that I did see it in that way and that we were actually getting along really well and just sharing what we’ve been dealing with and that we were both bonding over the experience of disappointed by people we were in love with.” You continued, “And then she got upset and left. So if she’s pissed at you later it might be because of that.” You informed him.

“Noted…” he hummed and took the joint that you offered over. He took a hit before returning it to you.

“When we get back home, we should make time to hang out.”

“Of course we’re gonna hang out.” Harry said.

“I know that…but Julie might not be too happy about us being friends.”

“Is that what we are then? Friends?” He asked you with a small smirk.

“Yeah. We are…for all intents and purposes.” You explained. “I just really don’t want her to keep thinking that you’re doing this to get back at her for cheating, you know? Maybe if she sees that we have a genuine connection she’ll be more open if anything more pans out.” You explained cautiously. You didn’t want to jump the gun with what this could be with him and you also wanted to protect your sister’s feelings.

“So, just to clear this up…down the line…if I asked you on a date…”

“I’d say yes.” You assured him with a timid smile as your eyes met his.

“Good to know.” He hummed with a smile.

Day Eleven:

You had woken up feeling a bit more deflated. Your sister’s anger had carried over into the night and no doubt into this new day. She was also giving Harry an extra cold shoulder, not really worried about keeping up appearances, like she usually would. That night, she asked Harry if they could go out and talk. Harry did text you that she was still pretty pissed off and you just went to bed instead of waiting up for a visit from him. Sure enough, your theory was proven correct when you joined everyone for breakfast and your sister just shot a quick glance at you before carrying on with fixing up her plate. She also seemed to be ignoring Harry and was being curt with everyone else, so at least her wrath wasn’t limited to you.

But throughout the day, she just continued having drinks, keeping her buzz going until she just had to lay down for a bit. Your family celebrated on the 24th, given your mother’s cultural background so you counted her out of helping you with dinner prep and Harry jumped in, in her stead. You were having a lovely time with him and your mom to prepare the meal you’d all share later on before your gift exchange. After a couple hours of work you’d all gone your separate ways to get ready for dinner. You always did a family picture before eating, so you got slightly dressed up for that. You had just finished your make up and then got into your outfit. It wasn’t anything too fancy, just pair of brown, gingham print trousers and a green button up cardigan. You got some chunky, silver hoops on and left the chain you wore everyday around your neck. For the photo, you got into the ballet flats you’d brought, you’d definitely change back into your scuffette’s after the photo. With a few spritzes of perfume, you were hurrying out of your bedroom since you were being called to hurry up. You saw everyone already out in the living room, talking about what the best arrangement would be for the photo. In the end, you just sat criss-cross on the ground and after a few attempts everyone was pleased with how it came out and you all sat down for dinner.

“Seems like Julie’s back to her normal self.” You said to Harry as she insisted on fixing his plate.

“She’s just really fucking drunk.” He said quietly, “Lucky for us, she’s an affectionate drunk.” He mumbled and you hummed.

Soon everyone was seated and you started having your meal together. Due to her drinking binge, Julie was definitely being the life of the party. At least for now, everything was going as it should have. You were all laughing and getting along, your worries being the last things on your minds. You rushed off to change after eating so that you could participate in the games more comfortably. And it did help, because you were having a lot of fun playing board games with everyone. You and Harry were exchanging heated glances the entire time and it was going by unnoticed thanks to everyone’s slight drunkenness. And soon after, you also enjoyed a couple rounds of karaoke to kill some time before opening the presents. When you guys did your traveling christmases you only did a secret Santa amongst each other since the main expense was the traveling bit. Regardless, your mother had gotten you the lovely earrings that you’d put on your wishlist and you immediately got them on. Everyone else seemed pleased with their gifts and maybe it was because they were so drunk. The first one to tap out was your sister, who disappeared to the pool house as you guys had a few more goes at the portable karaoke mic Harry had brought along before your aunt turned in and then your parents soon followed. It nearing 2am though, so you weren’t surprised and well, your issues with insomnia were coming pretty in handy as you and Harry had another go at a card game, Go Fish, for your benefit.

“You have to know that I’m a sore loser.” You warned with a grin.

“Well, you can work on it.” He chuckled quietly. “Do you have a five?”

“You suck.” You mumbled as you handed it over and he chuckled.

“Losers can get prizes too.”

“Like?” You asked with a smirk.

“Like…loser has to share their bed with me.” He said lowly and your lips twitched up in a slight grin.

“Looks like I have no more sets.” You decided and he laughed quietly before you also started giggling quietly. Eventually, you did lose, but in a larger sense, you’d won.

Your lips met Harry’s gently through your giggles as he walked you down the dark hallway to your bedroom. Thankfully, you’d left the door ajar and you two were able to push inside easily. He closed it quietly before walking over to you and grabbing your face and bringing your lips to his own.

Your kiss was slow and deep, absolutely dripping with the yearning that had been building up between you two over the night. The way his hands started to roam over your body made you feel desirable in the best way. You could get lost in your lust for each other and enjoy it completely. He was so warm, you wanted to feel him skin to skin. So you tugged at the hem of his t-shirt and he very quickly got the hint. Your lips made a quick smacking sound as they parted wetly from his. You reared back to allow him to get undressed and you took advantage and pulled off your top quickly. Before you even had a chance to unclasp your bra he was pulling the cups down and leaning down to suck at your nipple. You sighed happily as his free hand reached around you to get the bra off. You loved how impatient he was and appreciated his urgency. Next thing you knew, you were falling back onto your bed as he kissed over your right breast now. You whined lowly when he nibbled down with a little too much force on your sensitive little bud. Your tight grip in his hair reeled him back.

“Sorry.” He mumbled against your heated skin and then started kissing his way up to your lips again.

“S’alright.” You assured him before he pecked your lips again. “Ummm…I did have a question though… did you ummm…did you want to h-have sex?” You asked him with a slightly nervous tone on your voice.

“Eventually. But I think that tonight we both drank a little too much for comfort.” He brought up, “So to answer your question, yes. But tonight’s not the time. Tonight, I just kinda wanna lay here and hold you.” He hummed with a smile.

“Topless?” You asked and he grinned.

“If possible, yes. I like how it feels to be against you, skin to skin.”

You felt your blood rushing up to your face at this suddenly romantic feeling blossoming between you two. He settled in beside you and draped his arm over your waist to hold you close.

“What I said earlier about waiting? Was that the right answer?” He asked and you smiled.

“Definitely.” You confirmed. “But I still want to. I want to so freakin’ bad.”

“Stop with that please.” He chuckled before landing a gentle smack to your lower back. You grinned and then leaned up to land a gentle smooch to his bottom lip.

“Does that mean no kissing?” You asked.

“No, we can definitely kiss.” He mumbled as he dipped down and attached his lips to yours. Suddenly you heard the sliding door from the pool house open, meaning Julie had emerged. “Shit, shit, shit!” He whisper shouted as he untangled his body from yours. You heard the sliding back door open as well, and just like that, she was inside. Harry was trying to find his clothes without turning on the light.

“Harry?” You heard her calling from a distance.

“Hide! Just hide!” You rushed out as you heard her coming towards the hallway and calling for him again.

Harry rushed out to your small patio and out of sight just as you heard your sister’s soft raps against his bedroom door. You sprung out of bed and grabbed a hoodie you had thankfully left on top of the dresser and rushed into the bathroom to get it on in case she decided to pay you visit. You had just put your hands through the sleeves when you heard your bedroom door open and the first thought you had was to flush the toilet and after a few moments you ran the tap to “wash your hands” and then stepped out to see her splayed out on your bed.

“Fuck! What’re you doing here?!” You asked her, trying to sound genuinely startled by her presence.

“Have you seen Harry?” She asked you monotonously and you didn’t trust your voice, but spoke up anyway.

“Uhhh, nope.”

“He’s not in his room.”

“So he’d be here?” You asked.

“I don’t know…just thought maybe he said something to someone if he took off or something.” She then pressed herself up to sit and sighed. “The bed kinda smells like him.” She said softly.

“I think that’s you. You’re wearing one of his shirts.” You pointed out to her and she glanced down and then let out a little giggle.

“Duh…Sorry…I just…I have a weird feeling.”

“About?”

“Him. He’s been…weird on this trip. Everyone was asking me about it at dinner the other day and I just, didn’t know what to say.” She explained.

“How about a little bit of the truth?”

“No. Way.” She said defensively as she got out of your bed.

“You can’t hide the truth forever. And you don’t have to tell them all the gory details just yet. But, just say that things aren’t going well between you two and are just deciding what the next move is. And not to rub salt in the wood or whatever, but I can’t imagine a world in which any person would be comfortable playing pretend for this long. Maybe you’re better at carrying secrets than he is? Specially if he’s only been keeping it for your sake.” You explained and she sighed.

“I feel like such an asshole every time I talk to you.” She muttered as she walked past you and out of your bedroom. “I’m going to go back to bed.” She said lowly and then closed the door behind her.

You waited in complete silence, ear pressed against the door to ensure that she was actually heading off and when you heard the sliding door to the backyard open you quietly opened up your own little patio door and Harry hurried inside, trembling from the cold.

“Jesus, m’nearly hypothermic.” He chattered and you were quick to pull open on of your drawers and hand over another sweatshirt you had. You liked them oversized, so you knew he could fit into it easily. And he was quick to pull it over his body and then pulled you into his arms to get more warmth.

“I think you should sleep in your room tonight. Julie, she’s got like a feeling about you or something. She seemed upset.”

“As if she had any right to be upset…” he mumbled.

“I know, but we just need to take it easy, I think.” You weighed in and he nodded.

“You’re right. One more day here and then we can figure things out.” He said quietly as he gave you a little squeeze and you nodded.

“Yeah, just one more day.”

Day Twelve:

It was Christmas Day, but it was also your last day at this house. After Julie’s little midnight run in you had a really hard time going back to sleep, so you started to pack up and then got tired around 6am before passing out for a few hours. It was nearing midday when you woke up again because of the commotion in the kitchen. You washed up and then headed out and greeted your family who were barely starting their first meal of the day. You had just finished fixing your plate up when you saw Harry and Julie approaching hand in hand. They were all smiles as they talked while taking their time to make it to the main house. It was so believable to see them like that, it made your stomach drop. And then you felt that ache in your chest that made your throat start to swell up in that familiar way it always did when you were sure to cry.

“Looks like everything’s back to normal.” You heard your mom say before you just forced your gaze away and focused back on the task at hand. Whatever the hell was going on right now, you didn’t want it in your face, so you were planning on sneaking away to your bedroom to eat but where soon called out.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Your aunt asked loudly just as your sister and Harry made it inside. “Come eat with us! It’s our last day.” She insisted with an eager smile. But you were just glancing at Harry who immediately found a way to untangle his hand from Julie’s, but only to pull her into his side. You looked back at your aunt, ready to decline.

“Exactly! Our last day here. We should eat together.” Your father added in decidedly.

“Okay.” You said and found your seat between him and your aunt.

To say that the PDA was on between Harry and your sister, felt like an understatement. This was reminiscent of the when they first started dating. At that time you were very observant and vigilant around Harry. He was new to your lives and you wanted to ensure that his actions matched his words. And obviously, they did and he absolutely fawned over your sister in a way that made you jealous. You were seldom jealous of her but when it came to this kind of attention, she always seemed to be the lucky one. The way her lovers would dote on her and adore her was unfamiliar to you. You hadn’t had that before. You’d always landed the worst people, wolves in sheep’s clothing. You had started to wonder if maybe there was something wrong with you because the way he was looking at her, whether it was genuine or not, was not something you had experienced before. And you wanted it so badly. You finished eating quickly and then slipped away, not wanting to have to look at that, at him, any longer.

After a while, you heard everyone starting to head out to swim and you decided to stop being a party poor and join in. You had just stepped out of your bedroom when Harry stepped out of his room.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” You responded.

“Look, about earlier-”

“No, don’t worry about it.” You shook your head, “It’s a me thing. You did nothing wrong.” You assured him.

“I’m still sorry.” He said and you smiled slightly.

“I must admit…I was a little…jealous too.” You confessed.

“Don’t be.”

“It’s just…always been a little neck and neck with us…a lot of comparisons and competition… so I just…get insecure around her sometimes.” You said as you looked down between you and focused on a spot on the floor. Confessing this to him was hard enough, you would be writhing in discomfort if you held eye contact.

“Look at me.” He insisted. “C’mon.” He insisted and you glanced up into his eyes and smiled at him and then he just surged forward and kissed you passionately. You were lost in it for a few moments before pulling away.

“Not smart.”

“I know, sorry.” He hummed and gave you one final smooch before pulling back. You then just looked at each other for a few moments and then you surged forward and grabbed his jaw and just as you started to tiptoe to reach him you heard a gasp and froze.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You heard your sister question angrily.

“Jules, just leave it.” Harry cut in as you turned around.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking-”

“No! You weren’t! What the fuck?!” She whisper shouted. “I knew it!” She seethed. “Whatever the fuck this is, it ends with this trip.” She asserted, looking between the two of you. “I know that I fucked up but that’s still my husband.” She said to you directly now and you nodded. “And you’ve been sabotaging me, haven’t you? To get to him?” She asked and you scoffed.

“No!”

“it’s not like that.” Harry chimed in and she glanced to him. “Don’t even act offended or territorial over me. You don’t love me.” He reminded her and she clenched her jaw.

“Whether we’re divorced or not, that’s still my sister. It’s fucked up.” She said. “This all ends here.” She stated firmly before rushing off. Your eyes met Harry’s in concern and he shook his head.

“It’ll be okay. It’ll all work out.” He assured you.

“I hope so.”

“It will. It’ll be our Christmas miracle.” He said with a small smile and your own smile started to spread over your lips.

“Okay.” You whispered, deciding to believe him in that moment. You had to believe that everything would work out exactly as it should. These twelve days had been absolutely perfect and it couldn’t end there. There was definitely more to him. To you. And to what you could be together.

NEXT PART...

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bwat5-blog · 1 day ago

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Why Didn't We See Cait Tell Vi About Jinx?

**Spoilers For Arcane***

There has been a tremendous amount of conversation regarding Jinx's fate in the end of the show. I think by now, most of us seem to agree she is alive. There is a significant amount of evidence. But one of the conversations I have enjoyed reading different takes on, is did Caitlyn tell Vi her suspicions? should she? and why didn't we see one way or the other? This will be fairly short compared to my usual work, I just wanted to delve into these questions, offer my thoughts, and hopefully get some good discussion out of it!

THE EVIDENCE: (In no particular order)

The Shimmer streak right as the explosion occurs

I have seen some argue that it's simply the purple inside the bomb. This is possible of course but it seems extremely directed.

2. Caitlyn's investigations

When it is all said and done, we have a quiet moment with Caitlyn investigating the cooling/vent system of the tower where Jinx died, as well has holding the mostly intact head of her monkey bomb. the implication here is quite clear. But of course it is not definitive. They are only telling us she reason to be thinking about Jinx being alive.

3. Full Circle

The second shot is the last one of the show.. if we didn't have the first shot to fall back to it would feel quite random but if you think back to that, it seems quite clear what they are implying. Additionally although I don't have a good way to share it here, the score in this moment is variation on "Dear friend across the river" which we hear Powder singing to open the whole show.

4. Glitched The End

That is the very last shot we are given and the animation is very in line with the glitch style of Jinx we have come to know so well.

5. Arcane Afterglow For Act 3

youtube

Skip to 1:19 if that is all you are here for

________________________________________________

There are others for sure. I saw someone in the community post some pages from the artbook showing things like "i'm still here" I believe it was. And I know there have been other interviews and such. This is just what I am personally aware of. And while of course I am just a regular fan and I don't know any better than any of you, this is all enough for me to feel confidant saying she's alive. I am of a similar opinion to many I have seen. I do not think Caitlyn had told Vi by the end of what we saw, but I think it's because she herself is not 100% sure yet.

Why isn't she sure?

Well even using the evidence I listed, only one out of those five points is something Caitlyn would be aware of. Now I do think she is probably fairly confidant, as the implication of her investigating at all was very clear. But keeping in mind that she knows how badly Vi wanted to save Jinx, and the enormity of the guilt Vi must feel given that Jinx had to save her (Vi was legitimately having a dissociative episode born of her PTSD and there was nothing she could do. Don't start with me Anti-Vi'ers), I think Caitlyn would be very careful to not give Vi false hope.

Would Caitlyn Even Tell Vi and Risk Her leaving?

I think so. And my reasoning is that she has done it before. When she paved the way for Vi to free Jinx, there was every possibility the sisters would vanish into the night and Caitlyn would never see them again. With that in mind, and their dynamic in general with Caitlyn probably feeling she has a tremendous amount of trust to keep rebuilding between them, I seriously doubt she would risk hiding something so large from Vi if she felt confidant Jinx was alive. Jinx wanted Vi to live free of their past and find her happiness. I think Caitlyn would honor giving Vi the choice and hope for the best. Especially taking into account the whole dynamic around Caitlyn showing Vi how much she loves and respects not only her, but her heart. She cherishes the heart that drives Vi to protect those she loves. I don't see Caitlyn betraying that by trying to control her.

Is it better for Vi to know?

This one is tough. On the one hand, we have to factor all the things we already discussed in. We know Vi wanted them to be together. We know she is probably torturing herself over her sister's perceived death. But, we also have to consider the other side. Because by the end the Sisters are family again. So why would Jinx leave and not tell Vi the truth?:

Jinx herself will never know peace in Piltover or Zaun (at least as things are now). I'm not doing a whole thing here, but in Zaun they all want her to be their symbol. And in Piltover, regardless of her heroism or the reason she did what she did, there will always be stares and whispers for her crimes. Not to mention the whole process of whatever resolving the issues of her crimes would mean in the first place. It would not only be trouble for her, but probably for Vi and Caitlyn as well. She gave Vi permission to move forward with her life, and we saw Vi take it which is a reason to be hopeful. But if I were Jinx, and I had decided to leave, I would be very aware of the possibility that Vi would feel honor bound to leave the love she had found, and turn her back on the peace Jinx tried to convince her she deserves. Because while Vi is full to the brim with wonderful qualities, her journey to believing her own self-worth is still very new. And I think Jinx wisely would be worried Vi could not let her go alone. Just as Vi has to start finding herself free of their past, Jinx needs the same. It's not that she doesn't love Vi. I think she has made it EXTREMELY CLEAR that she does. But in terms of her mental state and her arc, I think she has resolved the conflict between the shattered ghost of Powder, and Silco's terrorist daughter. she IS JINX. She is no longer A JINX. And I think to find out what that means, she has to step away from the shadows of her past and start completely over. Just as Vi has to start finding out who she is without the crushing guilt and pain of their childhood. Listen yall, I know I can be quite harsh on Jinx especially because Vi is my favorite. But let me bring you back to something I first realized in my deep-dive on the sisters relationship.

Vi is a courageous, loving, and loyal sister who would fist fight the devil himself with one hand tied behind her back for her loved ones. But she is still only a person. And as always, the brilliantly heart wrenching writing of this show tells us exactly how Jinx feels about her older sister in the opening of the show, and proves it again at the end:

Even when they were little girls on that bridge, Vi walked tall, trying to shield Powder from the horror around them. But when it became too much, when the horror, and the pain, and the loss overwhelmed her, Powder threw her small body over her big sister trying with everything in her to be that shield for Vi.... Just as she would the next time Violet needed her...

I am firmly and completely convinced she would not leave Vi like that unless she truly felt it was the right thing for both of them. She has come to far and been through too much. Agree or disagree, I think she is doing her best to be that sister Vi deserves once more. Even if its painful.

What I Hope:

My hope, is that Caitlyn shares her information with Violet when she feels she has enough to not devastate her beloved with false hope. And that hearing that, Vi will choose to honor her sister's decision, as well as see the truth that she herself deserves love, and peace, and safety, and be at peace. My hope is that in the end, Vi can see Jinx's decision was not one of neglect, or abandonment, or crisis. But just as Vi had always tried so hard to be Jinx needed, in that moment Jinx saw what they both needed, and made the hard call, to give them both the chance the world tried to steal from them.

Thank you all for reading. I know I have been a tad feisty lately and I wanted to get back to talking about what I love about this show! These characters and this story connect with us all on such deep levels because of their humanity. Their flaws, their strengths, the moments they succeed and the moments they fall short. Ultimately, we can't know if Violet will do the right thing if and when she finds out. But she and Caitlyn give me hope. I hope this has done the same for you.

Never stop standing for the stories that matter. See yall next time!

#arcane #arcane season 2 spoilers #vi arcane #caitvi #jinx arcane #caitlyn kiramman #vi and jinx #powder #arcane vi #long post #Youtube

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aggieharkness · 2 days ago

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And in her arms, she cradled your heart

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: It was a perfectly normal day at the shop, a tarot reading here, a book there, but after picking up a couple of things at Walmart you asked Lilia to do a pregnancy roulette with you, a fun harmless joke you had seen on Tik Tok, though when you looked at the tests that perfectly normal day changed completely.

Warnings: pregnancy, age gap, magical conception. I don't think there's anything else that needs to go here, for now.

Authors note: alright, I have finally come up with a lovely way to start this story, though I must say that @renafisher27 helped immensely so I must give her credit as well. I haven't written pregnancies in a while, so please be gentle but tell me how it looks, if you like it and all that. I accept constructive criticism, and if there's anything you might want to see in this story, don't hesitate to ask, I'll add it to the best extent I can. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Lilia Calderu, and Jac for writing her so beautifully.

Word count: 8827 (I've managed to write something short! It might not be the case for future chapters, you've been warned.)

I'm not leaving you, for anything in the world

The garden was quiet and beautiful this time of year, the lilies you had planted not that long ago blossoming under the warm light that came from the blue skies above, a gentle breeze crossing from the open glass doors of the shop all the way to the hanging chair you were resting on in a corner, watching as the leaves and flowers swayed to its gentle dance, bees jumping carefully in between the white and yellow frangipanis that climbed up the walls and fences, the only flower that Lilia had specifically requested, the rest of the garden for your hands to do as they pleased with. The aromas that filled the air with its wonderful floral tones mixed wonderfully with Lilia’s incense and rosemary candles, only eclipsed whenever she came out of the bath spreading a citrusy perfume all over the house, though you would never tell her to stop using that shampoo and gel, it was wonderful to go anywhere and pick up a whiff of oranges or lemons, your mind travelling straight to her. Your eyes were closed as you soaked up the sun, head lulled back against a pillow, the book you had in your hands forgotten as your ears picked up on the buzzing of the bees and the chirping of the birds, the grass a perfect shade of emerald green.

Lilia was watching through the kitchen window, letting her cup of tea rest on the counter as her eyes raked over your relaxed figure taking every inch of you in, from the way stray locks of your hair swayed in the breeze to how one of your feet dangled from the chair, brushing the cool grass with your toes. You had been a wonderful change in her boring life and every second she had spent without you in the Witches Road had been torture, but she had refused to let you go with her, she had told you that she would not be able to finish it if she had to worry about you and as much as you had tried to convinced her not to go you knew she had to. Parting had been a bittersweet affair, but she had promised you she would return, and everything would be alright afterwards, and you had believed her every word because Lilia had never ever lied to you or let you down. After her trial had ended and she had stayed behind she had thought of you, a single tear running down her cheek, but she had been at peace with her actions. If her sacrifice would save her coven and in extent you, she would die happy even if she knew it would break your heart, her mind wandering to you sitting by the door, waiting for her to come back when in truth she would never cross that threshold again, but then the impalement had never come. The road had expelled her and covered in mud she had crawled through the Earth until the evening sun had shone on her face, her palms pressed firmly over the ground as she breathed the fresh air that swayed over the yellow fields, tears of relief and pain clouding her vision.

She had walked home from the middle of nowhere trusting her magic to find her way back to you, embracing the rush that she had fought against for so long. The world had never seemed so beautiful before, the sky painted in oranges and blues, hot tears running down her cheeks as her bare feet walked through the warm grass, her dirty peppery ringlets stuck to the nape of her neck and forehead, but she did not care, not when she was thinking of you and how you would not have to mourn her forever, lost in a road that’s you would never be able to enter alone. By the time she had reached her shop the evening had moved onto night, gentle hues of purple and pink transitioning into a deep navy as the universe above appeared sprinkled with stars. She had pushed the door, surprised to see that you had left it open, the tiny bell that hung from the ceiling ringing melodiously to announce her return, and in slow motion you had pushed the beady curtain open to see who had come in so late at night only to find her. You had never doubted her, not for a minute, her robe flowing around your form as you rushed to her to take her in your arms, the odour of mud and sweat filling your lungs, but underneath all that her citrusy perfume remained. That night you had not let go of each other, not for a second, as well as the next day, though you had taken breaks from making love to talk about all those things she had never found the courage to speak of, tears and laughter filling up the room along with the hushed words that were spoken against each other’s lips.

Seeing you now through the window Lilia could not help but feel like the road had given her not only her confidence in her powers back, but the life she had never thought she deserved to live. Taking one sip of her nearly forgotten tea, she scrunched her nose at the taste, the usual cinnamon flavour leaving a soapy aftertaste on her tongue that she disliked tremendously. Forcing her eyes to tear from your form she dumped the entire thing down the sink, checking the pot to see if maybe she had forgot to rinse it, but there was no foam, simply the dark colour of the hot liquid. It was rather odd, tea usually lasted for really long periods of time, so she picked up the kettle and plugged it in to prepare a pot of vanilla and black tea, another favourite of you both, busing herself among the cupboards and such. It had also happened earlier that week that she had taken a bite of a cinnamon roll you had bought for her at Wendy’s and had had to spit the bite she had taken onto a napkin because of how horrible it had tasted to her; to you it was just as good as always. This was beginning to be a pattern, a sudden hate for cinnamon that she couldn’t quite understand, but it was not the end of the world, she thought, it would have been much worse had she suddenly developed an intolerance for chicken or cheesy fries. Just as she was thinking about a delicious bag of cheesy Doritos the kettle began to whistle, but even as she poured the hot water inside a clean pot that already had the leaves inside, she just couldn’t get the image of the Doritos out of her mind.

The idea of having a whole bag just seemed to be seeping into her bones, making her ache as it had quickly shifted from something she might want to have to a need; she needed Doritos, and it was insane just how much. Lilia left the pot so the tea could brew, poking her head through the kitchen window. You looked so peaceful, so calm and relaxed on your free day from work, but she could not leave the shop, she was open for business today so you would have to go down to the store and get her a couple of bags, just to be safe.

-Darling, can you listen to me for a minute?

-I’m not asleep, I’m just laying here soaking in the sun like a lizard. What’s up?

-Can you do me a favour?

-It depends. If it involves clothes being taken off, I’m in, if it involves soap and dishes, sorry I’ll have to pass.

-Don’t get cheeky with me, as if you wouldn’t do the dishes if I promised to bed you two minutes later, but that’s not the favour. Can you go down to the store and get some bags of cheesy Doritos?

-Doritos? – you opened one eye to see her head poking through the window, the tender breeze that was twirling around in the garden caressing her face, making the lose curls sway around her cheeks and neck. She was looking at you with those big doe eyes that she knew you could not resist, her lower lip in between her teeth in an almost pleading manner. -You are not one to eat that sort of thing often.

-I know, but I’m really craving some, like I really need them. Could you do that? You can take the car down to Walmart if you want, get yourself something.

It wasn’t such a bad plan, you loved going down to Walmart or Target, and you had heard of this new flavour of Buldak ramen, maybe you could get yourself that. Nodding towards Lilia you stretched on the chair, feeling it sway as you moved but it quickly stopped when you placed your bare feet over the grass, letting its cool touch seep through your toes before picking up your book and heading inside. Lilia was quick to give you a peck as a thank you, a childish like grin on her lips as she poured herself a cup from the vanilla tea, the sip tasting perfectly fine. You noticed the other pot, sniffing the liquid and noticing the cinnamon aroma it held, your eyes drifting to Lilia’s back as she pushed the beady curtains away and stepped back into the shop. So, she still had a thing against cinnamon, okay, you thought as you put a pair of old vans on, leaving the book on the kitchen table; maybe she had just switched tastes, it had happened to you with strawberry ice cream, you used to hate it and now you just couldn’t get enough. Picking up the car keys, your wallet and your phone you stepped out into the shop just as an older woman was entering it, her eyes looking around for a minute before Lilia stood gently from her chair and greeted her, her voice sweet and tender as she guided her towards the table. You waved silently at her, Lilia smiling back at you, before stepping out into the street, opening her old Toyota from 2010 that was screaming to be retired, but neither of you had the money to get a new one.

It was a bit run down but clean, and you serviced it as often as you could, so it was not a threat to either of you or other drivers, but the pedals were beginning to get softer under the weight of your feet and the gear shift would probably need to be changed in a couple of years, maximum, which, to be fair, was shit but there just was no way you could magically fix it, you had tried without Lilia knowing. The journey wasn’t too long, the big Walmart that Eastview had was only like a five minute drive, and the parking lot was big enough that there were always empty spots, so after taking the next exit and swerving the car you braked and put it in neutral near the front doors before stopping it completely and stepping out, checking your phone to see a message from Lilia asking you if you could get a box of Cheez-it as well. You had to smile at that. She had been acting a bit weird in the last couple of weeks, though you weren’t sure if she had noticed, and the sudden development of craving for anything with a shit ton of cheese on it was one of the best things that was coming out from whatever she had going, the hate for cinnamon thought, that was peculiar because she really loved to use it for her candles and protection spells. Anyhow you were on a mission to find the cheesiest Doritos in existence, so you made your way to the automatic doors, shivering under the cold air of the AC. Divine Mother, it wasn’t that hot outside, you were going to freeze your tits off before you had reached the first aisle. Walking through dairy, meats and fish and the sauce aisle you finally reached the snacks one, eyes surveying every product you could see until you found the box of Cheez-it, which when you read the sign underneath it said that there was an offer of three boxes for only 23$, that was a good deal.

You threw them into your trolley and continued the search for the Doritos. You had barely taken three steps to the right when they came face to face with you, an assortment of over seven different flavour plus dips, your index finger tracing the shelves until you found a family size bag of cheese flavoured ones, which you picked two bags of and dumped them onto the trolley forgoing the dips all together as Lilia wasn’t a big fan of premade sauces and such, after all you had an entire cupboard filled with homemade tomato sauce that you two spent an entire day preparing every few weeks. They had moved things around, so finding which aisle had the ramen took you about four tries, including crossing the medicine aisle. In your house homemade remedies were the go-to, but Advil and Tylenol were the only two pills Lilia allowed to have in the bathroom cupboard, you had tried to get cough syrups, but it had been a lost battle. Your eyes moved over the colourful packages, still amazed at the number of medications that one could easily buy without a prescription until you came across all the pregnancy tests. Now wouldn’t that be funny, to come home and do a pregnancy roulette with Lilia. She would say no at first, of that you were sure, but hey, maybe you could actually get her to do it and you could have a laugh about two lesbians considering the possibility of being with child. Maybe it was only funny to you, but since you were the one paying you took two traditional ones and a Clearblue one, throwing them over the Doritos and continued your search for the Buldka, but when you arrived they had all flown, so you had to settle on the cheese hot chicken one because Lilia would most definitely steal from your plate and she only liked that one and the rose one.

You looked around for a few more minutes but didn’t see anything that you fancied at that moment, so you went to the checkout, the cashier looking at the tests and up to you a couple of times, a cheeky smile on her lips, but you didn’t say anything, simply paid for the items, wished her a good evening and went to get to your car. Throwing the items in the back seat you sat behind the wheel a sudden feeling of anxiety and anticipation blooming in your chest, though you did not understand why. The roads were empty and the spot you had left only twenty minutes before was still there, the nervousness that was spreading through every cell and limb nearly making you fuck up as you parked the car, but after a couple of minutes extra manoeuvring you finally turned the motor off and stepped out. There was an extra bag that you always carried in the trunk, and after you picked it up and placed the items inside you made your way to the store, noticing that it was empty once more; the woman must have left not that long ago as Lilia was tidying up her deck and blowing the candles she had lit. The sound of your footsteps made her lift her head, that beautiful ringlet that was always framing her face bouncing gently at the movement, her eye shinning up at you, her smile the most beautiful thing in the universe. You could remember the day you had stepped inside this shop, tired, done with the world kicking you in the butt, and to be honest you hadn’t expected to hear anything good or true, but the instant Lilia had appeared the universe stopped moving, time still as her plump lips smiled gently at you.

How were supposed to simply sit there when the most gorgeous woman you had ever laid eyes on was sitting across the table asking you to cut the deck. She had read you from front to cover, every single thing you had ever lived, every moment of happiness and pain, and the session you had expected to be no longer than fifteen minutes turned into an hour, and then a cup of tea to calm your nerves and then the secret that you were a green witch spilled out and you cried some more, but she was there to hold you and reassure you, whispering that she was a divination witch in your ear. You had entered her shop over two years ago and had never left, though you would never ever do if you had a say in it. She had healed you, protected you and taught you all the things that no one had ever bothered with, and in return you had given her all the love of your heart not spearing costs. Seeing her smiling up to you now was even better than that day, because this wasn’t a simple polite grin, it was her love speaking to you in every single way she could think of. Putting your hand inside the bag you took one of the Dorito bags out, her smile spreading wider, her hands clasping in front of her chest, rushing to you and giving you a delicious peck, the taste of vanilla tea lingering on her lips.

-Oh, thank you Y/N!

-You really are craving them.

-You don’t know. – she didn’t even wait until she was in the back, she ripped it open and pulled one perfectly shaped triangle, popping it in her mouth. The sigh of relief that she made as she chewed made you chuckle, following her into the kitchen so you could take the rest of the items out of the white plastic bag. Lilia was busy with her Doritos, but when she turned to ask you if you wanted some her eyes saw the boxes of pregnancy tests, her hand stopping mid-way to her mouth. – Why did you get these?

-You are going to think I’m stupid, but I thought we could take one each and do like a pregnancy roulette.

-That is the dumbest thing I’ve heard in a while, and I talk with Agatha and Rio on a daily basis.

-Okay, no need to be so harsh Calderu. – you carried on putting the Buldak and Cheez-it boxes away in the cupboard next to the stove where the cereal and a lonely bottle of Pringles were. - It’s just something fun and stupid we could do. You have been craving cheese like crazy and can’t stand cinnamon, can you imagine if yours came out positive?

-I really can’t leave you alone for one minute.

-No, you can’t. Come on Lils, I want to do it; you are not going to leave me hanging are you?

Your puppy eyes always managed to melt her and agree to anything, and this time it wasn’t going to be any different. It really was dumb, in her opinion, and a waste of money, but you wanted to do it, so why the hell not, you had got her the Doritos, and they had been family size, she owed you one. With a sigh she put the bag on the kitchen table but not before warning you not to touch them, wiping her hands on a tea towel and picking one of the boxes up to read the instructions as she made her way to the bathroom. One for you, you thought, picking up the other box to see what the hell you were supposed to do. You knew you were supposed to pee, but did it have to be on a cup or could just do it on the stick, you supposed it didn’t matter much as long it touched pee. A minute later Lilia came out with hers, and you quickly picked the extra one that came in the box and headed for the bathroom yourself after placing Lilia’s inside the now empty package. It really was easy but a bit messy, and you spend a whole minute washing your hands afterwards but when you stepped out you put in the box along with her, gently shaking it with a smirk on your lips, Lilia having picked up her bag of Doritos once again.

-And now we wait for three minutes or so.

-How much did the tests cost you?

-Why do you want to know?

-So, I can think of how much money you just wasted for “fun”.

-Oh, don’t be like that. – you poured yourself a cup of tea, the cinnamon pot already in the sink, sitting yourself next to Lilia as she carried on with her snack as if her life depended on it. - I’ve seen people doing it on Tik Tok, why not us?

-We are lesbians dear, unless you have forgotten how anatomy works, you can’t quite get pregnant the usual way.

-But there’s still the magical way, and I am a green witch, and I always get very excited when I’m with you.

-You are cheeky today.

Her kisses tasted like powdered cheese which wasn’t quite alright with you as you took another sip of the vanilla tea, but it could have definitely been worse. You could still remember a hot day in the summer of about one year ago when instead of using salt for her Bolognese pasta she had used sugar, a bit of a miscommunication issue after getting new jars, making lunch uneatable and forcing you to order uber eats. McDonalds was always a welcome meal after a hard day’s work even if that work had been lunch. Lilia took a Dorito out and handed it to you, but you declined, and she didn’t even give you the chance to change your mind before it was already in her mouth, the timer on your phone going off, breaking the comfortable silence that had filled the room as you both ate. Your heart was beating fast against your ribs, although you didn’t know why, both of you already knew the answers you were going to get, but it still raced as you picked up the box and shook it as if that could mix the two tests even further, a drumroll from your fingers against the kitchen table echoing around you both before you pulled one test out and placed it with the symbols against the wood, repeating the same action with the other one.

-At the count of three you pick one and I’ll pick the other and we show it to each other, okay?

-Fine, the sooner we are done with this the sooner you can go back to the garden, and I can relax without you in here.

-You hurt my feelings, Lilia. – in a faux feeling of pain, you turned your head away from her, a hand on your chest to make it even more dramatic, but it only lasted a second before you put your hand over one of the tests, curious. -Ready? One, two, three.

Lilia was a bit faster than you, and when she picked up her test and showed it to you, you saw only one line, relief washing through your veins. Children had never been a topic you two had discussed much and for some reason the idea of becoming a mum, be it by you expecting or not was something you had not considered until this very minute, but it was okay, it was negative. And then you looked up at Lilia, your hands showing the other test in her direction, and you saw how her face had turned white as milk, eyes wide, the weight of the world crushing her under its heaviness. Obviously in a hurry you turned the test to see a cross, and it wasn’t one strong line and a really faint one, no, it was a very clear cross. The world stood still right there and then, your blood running cold inside your veins for a second before you stared back at Lilia, but she had reacted opposite to you and she pushed herself off her chair to pick up the box of digital pregnancy tests, ripping it open with hurried breaths. She was clearly in distress and didn’t even bother to say a word as she took one and rushed to the bathroom, the box sliding across the table so you could take one as well, but your arms were suddenly frozen on the spot.

There was no way in hell it could be true, it had to be a false positive, you were both lesbians and neither of you had cheated, of that you were more than sure. At work there was no chance of you meeting decent people that could spark any interest whatsoever and even if they did, you would never ever hurt Lilia like that, and you knew that after all the pain and heartache she had gone through in four centuries she would never risk destroying something as precious as what you two had, something that had healed her and shown her what love was supposed to feel like. So how on Earth could one of you be expecting? It was a preposterous idea and yet there was something in your bones telling you that it was so, that it was very true, and that you and your magic were to be faulted. Lost in thought you hadn’t heard Lilia coming out of the bathroom, but you did hear her pacing behind your back for a few moments before everything turned quiet. Suddenly the world was rushing around you and you turned on your chair to see Lilia staring at the test she had in her hand, unmoving, her face unreadable. You knew you had to see, but part of you was terrified of what you might find out and yet you stood and on shaky legs you began to walk her way until you stood face to face, and your hands gently grabbed her wrists, moving them downward so you could see.

-Oh. Oh, Lilia. – it said pregnant plus a +3 weeks, meaning that in the time that had passed since she had returned from the Witches Road, since the night you had shared without a single care in the world, only loving each other, thanking the universe that the day you had said goodbye to Lilia wouldn’t be your last farewell, she had been creating a brand new life, nestled safely in her womb. This was your fault, you thought.

-Guess it wasn’t such a stupid thing to do after all.

-I’m so sorry, I know this wasn’t what we wanted, what we had planned. Oh Lilia, this is all my fault. What are we going to do?

-I’m the one who’s supposed to be panicking you know. – it was unnerving how calm she looked, how collected as she made her way to the closest chair, the bag of Doritos forgotten on the side of the table, her beautiful brown eyes unable to break their gaze from the test that she held tightly in her hands. You were quick to follow, kneeling in front of her with your hands on her knees, over her red and blue gown.

-I’m sorry.

-Don’t be. This is as much your fault as it is mine, neither of us thought your abilities could create life like this, not yet anyway.

-And what are we going to do? I mean, I’m glad to know why you’ve been acting kind of weird, but this … this is a baby, it’s not some thing you are going through and that will pass in a few days.

-I know. What do you think we should do?

-I don’t know that’s why I’m asking you, after all you are the one who’s expecting.

-Yeah. I’m the pregnant one. – it seemed to be dawning on her slowly, the shock making way for both a profound sense of terror and an unmeasurable feeling of happiness, both tainted with doubts. Tears began to build in her eyes, and you were quick to hold onto her free hand to steady her. -Oh, Y/N, I’m pregnant. We are going to have a baby! How did this happen!?

-I guess I didn’t control my magic. I had missed you too much and there was this fear that I might lose you and… I don’t know. I didn’t think that we could do this, I just wanted to have you close, to love you and never let you go. I don’t even know how I did it, how we did it.

-Well, this is big Y/N, our lives will change forever. I have no clue how we are going to navigate this whole thing. One thing is to visit Sharon’s grandnieces and nephews, and another completely different thing is to have a baby of our own. Are we ready? Do you even want this Y/N?

-How could I not when it’s a piece of you and me that you are carrying Lilia. It will be hard but I’m not leaving you for anything in the world. I will stay by your side through thick and thin, and I will love this baby until the day I die, no matter what. I believe we can do this; we’ve waited more than a hundred years to find each other and build something strong. We can do it.

-We can do it. We are going to have a baby.

The tears she had tried to keep at bay were now flowing freely down her cheeks, a timid smile spreading on her rosy lips before it turned into a bright grin as you gathered her in your arms, that terror that you were both feeling eclipsed by the happiness and joy of this news. Holy shit, you were going to have a baby! Lilia was pregnant, wow, this is certainly not how you had seen the day going at all, and you weren’t sure if your brain was actually comprehending the situation, but it didn’t matter too much, Lilia was your priority right now. She cried on your shoulder, her left hand still holding onto the test, her body suddenly feeling completely different. When she had been younger she had dreamt of having a family, but the gaps and the death of her coven had turned her life dark and bitter, and as she tried to find a place for herself only to run away when people discovered she was a witch, it just began to slip into the back of her mind until it only popped up when she was at her lowest, when she began to wonder if maybe living for so long wasn’t as wise as she had thought. The feeling that her chance had passed was a thorn that she could not pull out of her heart, the pain would have been too great, but after centuries of living like this her heart had grown around it, learning to cope with the missed dreams she would never have. Sitting in her small kitchen, nestle in between your arms she realised that said thorn was gone, vanished into the ether, every single reaction her body was making, every twitch and spasm bringing the fact that she was growing a whole person, after four hundred and fifty years, to the front of her mind as the news sank in.

She was supposed to have kept her walls up, her magic under control so yours wouldn’t be able to mingle with hers, but the road had left her vulnerable and the sight of you wearing her own robe, the perfume that still lingered in it comforting you through the entire ordeal, had made something inside her click, as if there had been one final piece of the puzzle left for her to find, and when her eyes had settled on your form it had been clear that that piece was you, awaiting her return. She had been raw and bare before you, under you, on top of you, and the gentle tendrils of yellow magic had enfolded your sweet sage ones as one, making her feel alive, cared for, loved. That night there had been a sparkle of something, a spell not really spoken, a deep desire that had set the wheels in motion. She pushed herself off your shoulder to face you, her deep chocolate eyes a bit red and puffy, streaks of tears painting her rosy cheeks and yet there was a bright smile on her lips, so precious that if it had been night she would have been able to light the entire town, and all the doubts and fears you had felt in the last few minutes vanished. You wanted this, you hadn’t known until this every moment that the prospect of having a child with Lilia was the most wonderful thing that had happened to you since meeting her.

In a hundred and forty-three years of life children had never crossed your mind, not even once, they were there, so to speak, they did their thing and you did yours, never crossing paths and you had been perfectly fine with that. You had felt far too young to think about it at first, but then wars had happened, depressions, crisis, and your life had just taken extreme turns, far too many for you to even consider forming a family and then of course had been the fact that, first, your magic was a mess and you could not control it one bit, and second, you didn’t have someone you loved enough to settle down with. All that had changed with Lilia and knowing that from the two of you she had been the one to fall pregnant both terrified and thrilled you. You were sure she would be the most beautiful pregnant woman in existence but what you were absolutely certain of was that she would be the best mother in the universe, in every universe. You could almost see it, Lilia sitting in the garden under the warm sun of summer cradling a little thing in her arms, the sweet quiet noises coming from the baby the most wonderful sounds you had ever heard, their skin soft under you finger as you caressed their cheek amazed by their fuzzy curls that resembled Lilia’s when she was younger, the wonders never stopping every time they opened their big eyes to look at you with that unique power Lilia had mastered throughout the years and that they had inherited. You could see that same bright smile Lilia was giving you right now in the kitchen, her face still carrying some of the baby weight she had gained, but it did not matter, she was still the most beautiful woman, the love of your life that had granted you a wish you had never even known you desired.

But until that scene could come true many things had to happen and suddenly reality crashed down over your head. You had no clue what you were supposed to do now, like was she meant to sit on the couch with her feet up until she gave birth? You would have to throw away every single pod of coffee, you had heard it was bad, an alcohol, and cigarettes, did the smoke of candles count? You felt your panic rising, but Lilia was quick to reassure you with a simple touch, the palm of her hand resting on your cheek as she finally let go of the test, letting it fall on the kitchen table. Your knees were beginning to hurt from how you were positioned on the floor, the tiles digging onto the skin and hitting your rotulas, so you pushed yourself onto a chair, still facing her as if by giving her your back would suddenly make you wake up to realise this was all a dream, fearing that she would vanish like smoke in between your fingers and you would find yourself in the still of the night waiting for her to return from the road. But she was solid, real, and she was having your baby, and you could not help the chuckle that escaped your lips, turning into a melodious laugh as you pulled her to her feet and gathered her in your arms, twirling around the room. Lilia had to join you, her arms wrapped around your neck as she let you sweep her off her feet, literally, her own laughter mingling with yours for a minute until she felt you placing her gently on the floor.

-Oh my God, I shouldn’t be picking you up like that, should I? - your hands were suddenly grabbing her upper arms as if she was made out of porcelain and could crack any minute, her own tapping yours as she chuckled. It touched her just how worried you looked, as if something could almost literally make her collapse, but she was perfectly alright, she felt strange but at the same time perfectly fine.

-It’s fine Y/N, I’m fine. I don’t think that this is going to do me much harm.

-Do we have any baby books or pregnancy books?

-No, not really. It’s not a topic we usually read about.

-Then I’ll have to check Google.

-Whatever for? – you let go of her and practically slid over the tiles to grab your phone from the kitchen counter, unlocking it and opening a brand-new tab, typing the single word “Pregnancy” as if instructions would pop up on your screen.

-I have no idea what we are supposed to do! Like, what can you eat, is there anything that you can’t do, is magic safe for you right now?

-Y/N, darling, calm down. Let’s just call Jen, she’ll know exactly what to do.

-Jen? Why do we need Jennifer, she’s a potions witch.

-She’s also a certified midwife. I would feel more comfortable if she were to come and check me instead of us having to fake a birthday and pay two hundred dollars to sit in a waiting room to see a doctor who’s going to complain about my age straight away.

-Okay, okay, if that’s what you want that’s what we’ll do. – you needed to take a couple of deep breaths before you lost your shit, leaving your phone on the kitchen table and moving your hands up and down to calm yourself before sitting back down on your chair. - Divine Mother, and I thought I was going to have a relaxing day doing nothing.

-Tell me about it, I just found out I have a tiny being inside me.

Lilia was always so collected, so calm, or at least most of the time, but underneath that smile and controlled breaths you could see the nervousness that was coursing through her veins as she wriggled her hands in front of her chest. This whole thing was going to be a big change, she knew, and she was no stranger to change but not to this calibre. With quiet steps she rummaged through her purse, on top of the coffee table, pulling out her big black phone before making her way towards her own chair. She unlocked it and tapped the phone icon and Jen’s name but suddenly she found herself unable to follow with her own words, fear overtaking everything else. Jen would be kind, she knew, but what if things went wrong, what if she let it slip and the entire coven found out before she was ready to share this news, what if they had got their hopes up, joy and happiness filling their chests only to be let down, to be told that there was nothing, that the test was wrong. She didn’t feel like she could fight that war, she couldn’t simply sit there and hear her say that there would be no baby, not after realising just how much she wanted this one. Without prior notice she felt tears gathering in her eyes and in an attempt to not cry she lulled her head back, taking a few deep breaths. It took you by surprise this reaction, the way her eyes had quickly shifted from happiness to unbridled fear.

-Hey, hey, what’s wrong? – you took the phone and left it beside yours, taking one of her hands in yours while the other grabbed her chin and gently moved it so she would look at you, a single tear running down her cheek.

-What if we are wrong? What if they are false positives?

-The probability of two being wrong is very low Lilia. But you can take another if you want.

-And if its negative? What if its you the one that’s pregnant and not me?

-Darling, you made me go to store to buy a bag of Doritos, which I’ve only seen you eat like four times in two years, and two of them were at Agatha’s. I’m not pregnant, I don’t feel any different from how I usually feel, I don’t get sick when I have some cinnamon, I don’t have these crazy cravings for cheese either, unlike you. Trust me on this, okay? Everything will be fine, I promise.

-Do you really mean it?

-I do. I know you are scared, but everything will be just fine. How about I call Jen, and you can take another test if it will make you feel better.

Your thumbs wiped her tears as tenderly as you could manage, hating to see her so upset when only a minute before she had been over the moon. You supposed this was brought on also by the roller coaster of hormones she must have going on, but you weren’t going to voice that, you didn’t wish to upset her any further; she didn’t deserve to feel worse than she already did. It was strange the way she nodded, vulnerable before your eyes just like when she had shared all those heartbreaking stories about her past, letting you handle what she couldn’t at the moment. She was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, doubts and fears crushing her under it all, but as long as you were there you would lift it off of her as much as you could. You pulled her into a kiss, her lips holding onto the cheesy flavour of the Doritos, but as much as you wished to deepen it you stopped yourself, pecking her forehead before you picked up her phone from the table. Lilia remained on her chair for a few more seconds as she collected herself and as you pressed the call button, she picked up the box and vanished into the bathroom. It rang once, then twice, and as the third one was mid ring Jen’s deep voice answered, greeting Lilia with a warm friendly tone.

-Hi Jen, it’s Y/N.

-Oh, hi. How are you?

-I’m not sure at the moment. Look, I called because Lilia and I have a bit of a situation going on here and I was wondering if you could pop over in like five to ten minutes.

-Is everything alright? Do I need to bring ingredients for an antidote again? – her tone was playful, but there was a slight jab that tainted them. She just couldn’t resist making you feel a little bit bad about your lack of potion skills, could she? Well, you had no time to engage her in a battle of ironies and sarcasms.

-No, but if you have like a… midwife bag it would help.

-You need me as a midwife? What’s going on? What did you two do?

-You can’t tell anyone Jennifer, and I mean it, no one. Lilia is already all over the place as it is, and I don’t want Agatha or Rio mocking her. We took some tests and hers came back positive.

-WHAT?!

-Jen, my ear!

-Are you serious? Like you got Lilia pregnant for real?

-Yes. Could you come over and check her or do whatever you are supposed to do?

-Sure, sure, I’ll be there in five, I just need to get my bag from my apartment.

-Thank you so much. She’s freaking out and she will only let you see her.

-Okay, keep her calm, I’ll be there soon. Bye

-Bye.

Jen cared for Lilia more than she let on, but you could see it whenever they were together, whenever they talked, she would look at her with a protective glaze in her eyes, as if she could keep her away from harms way. It did not mean she was in love with her, no, she cared for Alice that way, with Lilia it was as if they were sisters, looking out for each other, and you didn’t expect anything else after what they had shared in the tunnels and during Lilia’s trial. They had gone for three days thinking that the other was dead only to find each other in front of the psychic store when Jen had gone there to pay her respects and leave a bouquet of lilies, the flowers forgotten on the floor when they saw each other. Jen had only cried one time during the road but seeing Lilia alive and well after the entire ordeal was like seeing her sister after being apart for years, only an old letter in a drawer to remember her by. Jen could be many many things, like arrogant or rude at first, but once you got to know her, she was kind and caring and she showed it by jabbing you every once in a while, a playful banter that sometimes ended up in arguments that would soon turn into deep conversations over a cup of tea. You trusted her with Lilia because you knew she would never harm her, and she would be honest with all of her findings, exactly what you both needed. Lilia was yet to come out of the bathroom you noticed, her phone locked and on the kitchen table as you stood and headed for the powder room, knocking gently on the door.

-Darling, is everything alright?

-Yeah. – her voice was slightly muffled by the wood, but you could have sworn there was a happier tone to her affirmation, though your mind could totally be making things up.

-Does the test say anything?

-Yeah.

-Do you want to tell me?

The handle was pushed down, the door opening slightly for you to go in. It was a small room, an old ceramic sink on the left side with two glasses with your toothbrush and hers, a bathtub with a white shower curtain like four or five feet from the door and a toilet, where Lilia was sitting on, right in front of the sink and mirror. Without a word she lifted the three pregnancy tests that had been left in the box, two of them showing blue deep crosses while the other one, the last digital test, showed the same message, “+3 weeks pregnant”. Lilia could not believe the relief she had felt when they had taken barely a minute to show the results, like a wave that had swept away all the fear and worry. She was most definitely carrying your baby, there was no doubt about it after five tests, a weight lifting of her chest when you caressed her cheeks and smiling, kissed her tenderly. She still wondered how it was that she could not get enough of your lips, of how much your kisses grounded her and helped her sooth her aching heart when the past came to knock her down. It was the only thing she could never live without. Parting from her you did not move from your spot, squatting before her.

-Do you feel better now?

-Yes, very much.

-I talked with Jen and she’ll be here shortly. How far along do you think you might be?

-Seven or eight weeks? If we take the night I came back as the conception date.

-You were very receptive to me that night, I think it would be right to assume it is. How about you sit on the couch, and I’ll make you a cup of tea until she arrives.

-Just warm up the vanilla that’s on the pot, no need to dirty more dishes.

Perhaps you were seeing things that were not quite there, but she seemed to be glowing. Her eyes held a different light to them, her soft curves seemed to speak of a secret she nestled under her heart, so precious that she didn’t think she could love someone so much even before they had laid eyes on them, a little life that you had both created. There were no need for words, not anymore, and you took Lilia’s hands in yours to take her out into the living room, her body following without protest as the evening light began to change into oranges and pinks that bathed the room beautifully, the colours reflecting on Lilia’s peppery curls in a lovely rainbow that reached her eyes, so deep, so rich and happy. Walking backwards you rounded her favourite armchair and pushed her softly until she was sitting with her back on her flowery cushion, your lips making contact with the soft skin of her palm, sprinkled with freckles and spots brought on by time. You did not care that she was over four hundred years old, she could have been a thousand and you would have still loved her for all eternity, every second of every minute of every day without a doubt, without question. She had meant everything to you for two whole years, and now you had something else you could love her even more for. Your fingers slipped from hers as you made your way to the pot, the amber liquid lukewarm to the touch as you let a drop fall on your pinkie. Picking up a clean cup you poured her some and placed it in the microwave to warm up again, taking the time until the microwave beeped to head to the shop to turn the sign from “open” to “closed”, pushing the door slightly closed but not fully shutting it, the cooler breeze that was still coming through it and from the garden keeping the house at a nice temperature.

Night would soon come, and in your dreams, you hoped to see what the future may hold for you both, a little girl with Lilia’s curls or a little boy with her big brown eyes, you didn’t care much, as long as they were healthy, and Lilia had no issues. The microwave beeped as you stared through the glass to the sky above, the streetlamps having just turned on keeping the stars hidden from your eyes, but it did not matter, as soon as you crossed the beady curtain, Lilia’s head turned to look at you, a sweet smile on her lips as she curled on her armchair, her feet under her. Her eyes held all the stars you needed to see. Crossing the room to the kitchen you picked up the cup and placed it on a saucer, and as you turned to head back to her you saw the open bag of Doritos, a smile gracing your lips. Coming around Lilia you handed her the tea, a quiet thank you reaching your ears, but you did not sit down at her feet like you always did when you were watching the telly, no, you took your free hand and placed it on her lower stomach, her eyes travelling down to watch it as it rested over her red and blue gown. A gasp escaped your lips when you felt it, a small spark of magic that was not quite yours nor Lilia’s, your fingers tingling at the feeling, until she placed her own hand over yours, the electricity passing from yours to hers, both raising your heads to look at each other. Lilia’s smile was so deep and bright, so utterly happy that you could not help it, and you crashed your lips over hers letting her feel the joy and glee that was coursing through your veins, the tea forgotten on the armrest as her hand went up to your cheek. When you had woken up you hadn’t imagined that a simple joke could bring such happiness to your life, that your Lilia, your wonderful, beautiful Lilia would be the one to give you a family, though you could not imagine anyone else you do this with.

-I think Y/N, that we are having a baby.

#lilia calderu #lilia x reader #patti lupone #avis amberg #avis amberg x reader #agatha all along #patti lupone x reader #we thank miss lupone simply for existing

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cheaploafs · 1 day ago

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no fights are ever won without sacrifice

#art tag #ivy laidir #lucanis dellamorte #rookanis #datv spoilers #im tagging it just in case but like you know #ANYWAY. have i told you guys about the solas silverhand of my veilguard fic . how he can see Ivy’s memories and witness the world around #them as they travel. witness it all.. because i honestly thought tjat would have happened . yeah. it makes this 10 times worse in my brain #like oh!!! oh he has used my love against me oh no #the speechbubbles are empty but they range from ‘im sorrys’ to ‘i love yous’ to ivy finally calling lucanis vhenan because they never #thought to call anyone it again after what their ex put them through . isn’t it fun ….. isn’t it so cool #i think ivy blacked out and just sat with *him* for a while. didn’t really hear varric for a bit . just let every tear out from losing #everyone they cared for. the people they promised to protect and bring home safe. the world is on this poor guys shoulders my gooddddddd #the MOMENT ivy gets up from this its like Hell for 90% of the way. the regret prison in my mind is So much Worse #but anyways <3 enjoy this wip i had sitting for like several weeks. i might do lucanis…….. might. a strong might.

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misshuntereevee · 2 days ago

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This had been in my draft since forever. I'm gonna put it here, if you have a better idea of how to write this story, please go ahead! If not, feel free to toss it.

Zayne x mc. His pov when he had to move away and study to become a doctor and finally seeing mc again when he becomes her primary physician. Bc i feel like he had a crush on her when they were kids. And in the story mc said she finally meets her childhood friend after she met her primary physician or something like that

Thank you in advance! <3

₊˚｡ ❆ ⋆⁺₊❅. & isn't it just so pretty to think; all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? i fucking love this prompt thank you! ♥ i hope this is okay, i did make it a continuation of that one zayne memory where he gives her an ice seal.

prompts open.

The second he saw you again, he knew he couldn't lie to himself any longer. Time, he had figured, would ease his crush on you. His attraction to his childhood friend.

But the second you stand in front of him with that adorable smile, a little tooth poking out, he knew he was screwed. You were not textbook. In fact, you were everything but textbook. And that's what Zayne was used to. Zayne liked order. Zayne liked playing by the rules. Because the rules are there to protect you...right?

But it's addictive. Even if he'd tried to imagine how you'd look now, he'd never come close to the perfection you are now to him. How you laugh, how your nose and eyes crinkle when you do. And the color of your eyes. He's sure a million artists could try, and never replicate the exact shade of your hue. Lips so kissable... So when you join him at lunch because he's the only one with room at his table -- he's too shocked to say much. You're here. Not only are you here, but you remember him!

You're giggling as you recount the story of him giving you a snowball at you at the seal exhibit. Back then, you thought he'd been teasing you by making a sculpture of the snowball the seals had just thrown at you. He'd made it out of his Evol and you still have it.

He doesn't widen his eyes or respond physically, but he's not sure whether to laugh or cry at the fact you didn't realize it was supposed to be a seal. It was supposed to be cute and impress you. But you thought it was a snowball! And thought he was making fun of you!

Finally, he closes his eyes, shaking his head with a laugh. You finish the rest of your meal together, and you aren't sure why he keeps giving you a look that is on the verge of smile -- but holds back. When the meal is finally over, he offers to walk you to the cab.

Outside, he's mesmerized by you. Suddenly embolden, he realizes he can't let you think he was making fun of you any longer. He needs to show you what it was supposed to be.

"Can I show you something? Stick your hand out."

You furrow a brow at him, but you trust him. You stick your hand out, palm up. He places his hands over it in a dome...and then you feel it. Icy tendrils on your palm. But besides being cool to the touch, they don't hurt. That's intentional.

When he pulls his hand back, an ice seal sits in the palm of your hand and you beam at it. "Something to put next to the snowball you gave me? That's so sweet!"

He mutters something, but you don't quite hear him. You lean in closer, a hand resting on his forearm casually. (Casually to you, but his heart is racing in his chest. He's a cardiologist and even he's concerned about the effect you have on his heart.)

"What was that?" You ask him, leaning in.

He's going to have a heart attack. With a exhale, he repeats it: "You can throw the last one away. It's..."

He pauses, his eyes closing. "Just... this one is better."

And as he walks away, leaving you at your cab, you smile down at it -- and then realize. It's better... because it's what it's supposed to be this time. Your mouth is almost on the floor. He was trying to make something cute all those years ago...

But as you continue to grin down at the new seal, you know you're never throwing out the first one, even if he probably wants you too. No, because you have a feeling... something started right now.

And as he heads home, he also thinks about how happy he is to have a reason to see you again, even if it was just to correct that past mistake.. he should have never given her that snowball-looking seal. But looking out the window, he realizes... maybe the snowball made sure you didn't forget him.

Maybe he's grateful for the ugly thing.

#doctor zayne #zayne x reader #lads fanfiction #lads fanfic #dr zayne #l&ds zayne #lads zayne #lnds zayne #love and deep space zayne #zayne and mc #zayne fluff #zayne love and deepspace #zayne imagines #zayne x mc #zayne

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weinq · 2 days ago

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English Affair

synopsis: in which jeong yunho signs an NDA

genre: idol au! idol yunho x afab reader! fluff, suggestive

word count: 1.7k

author's note: this was supposed to be more comedic and more suggestive...but I wasn't sure how to approach it like that...

I hope you enjoy :))

~innie

· · ─────── · ─────── · ·

it was another night in a new city. jeong yunho loved the stage, he truly felt alive underneath the glow of the lights and the roar of his fans. being an idol wasn’t an easy path, the cut throat industry was filled with obstacles before one could even set foot in it- but it was during moments like this that made it all worthwhile. from his position on the stage, he could hear the voices of the fans calling out to him, they swayed their lights sticks to the rhythm of the beat while he and his best friends put out a performance of them.

“atinys!” mingi’s voice called out, and the audience cheered in response. mingi was up to his usual shenanigans; today he had their fans barking. mingi being the ring leader lead the braking while the atiny’s enthusiastically joined in.

yunho chuckled and jumped down the stage to interact with the fans near the barricade. he went toward the right, there was a figure in the crowd that caught his eye earlier. yunho wanted a better look at the atinty. “hello, hello” he said, as he walked alongside the crowd of screaming trying to grab his attention. he tried to give them as much of his time as possible, taking pictures with few fans along the way.

while mingi has the crowd barking, y/n noticed that yunho was doing rounds near her area of the barricade. her heart raced in joy upon being able to see her idol up close. y/n considered herself more of a causal listener in comparison to the die hard atinty’s standing besides her. but y/n has deep respect and admiration for the group, and seeing one of the members up close made her nervous.

“hello, sweetheart.” yunho says, as he approached the group of atiny’s next to her. “yunho!” she exclaimed in excitement, and waved to the boy in front of her. he gave her a sneaky smile and took the phone from her hand and started recording himself while y/n laid frozen. as an idol, he was a perfectionist, he mastered the art of being discreet. he used the fans as an excuse to get a better interaction with the girl.the fans burst in cheers of excitement and disappointment, several of them congratulated her while y/n tried to wrap her head around what was happening. yunho knew there wasn’t much he could do with a locked phone, so he simply recorded a 5 second view of himself and handed the phone back to the girl giving him just enough time to properly see her.

she’s even prettier up close, yunho thought.

y/n’s heartbeat raced, as yunho's soft hands brushed past hers while he handed her phone back. “see you later, pretty girl.” he smiled before he rushed out. she felt the blood rush to her cheeks, the voices of the atiny’s in the crowd were just as a back track as she tried to get a grip of herself.

“thank you, london!!!” the group said, while taking their bows and saying their goodbyes to their fans. the lights then turned off, and the boys went backstage to cool down before their send off. yunho hoped that you would be there.

“what’s on your mind?” mingi asked as he threw on more comfortable clothes. “there's a girl.” he sighed. “i might never see her again, but i have my hopes up.” mingi nods in understanding, as idols their career were their partners. although their agency didn't have a dating ban in place for them, it was still difficult to date. they didn’t have the luxury of going out and meeting people.

“you might just have to pass her this.” he winks pointing to the envelope by the dressing mirror. he chuckles in response, “i might just have to.”

y/n waited at the send off area with the rest of the fans, her heart racing with excitement; she wondered if fate would favor her a little longer and grant her a second more with yunho. she secretly prayed for it.

sooner than later, the crowd erupted in cheers as the group walked out. standing near the end of the line, she waited eagerly, her anticipation growing with each step they took. y/n caught a glimpse of yunho, as he interacted with the fans. he had changed out of his concert costume into more comfortable clothing. he was wearing his glasses as well, which she found cute.

“hello, gorgeous!” he greeted her, and she smiled in response. “i loved you out there!”

“thank you, your support means a lot to us.” he said, once again taking the phone out of her hands. “you like doing that, huh?” she questioned with a giggle. “maybe, i just like you.” he said earning him a blushing girl next to him. she cast her eyes away, “smile, gorgeous.” he said, capturing a picture of them on her phone. “i gotta go now.” he says. y/n heart quenches in sadness that her once in a lifetime moment came to an end, but she nods in response. “bye, yunho!” she says. their hands brush against each other once more as yunho hand’s her phone back, but more before he slips a paper along with it.

for a second she wonders if she imagined it, but the paper feels rough under her palms. he throws her a final wink-so she’s sure that it’s real. but y/n couldn’t help but doubt herself, the venue was filled with many gorgeous fans so it wouldn’t be, right? it could be something else, and not what she hoped for. his number…she watches as their figures retreat and the rest of the fans head home as well.

she leaves the venue, clutching the paper tightly in her hands. y/n’s mind was a whirlwind of doubt, she was convinced she must be imagining things. but she doesn’t make it three blocks before curiosity overwhelms her. with trembling fingers, she unfolds the paper and begins to read, her heart pounding louder with each word.

“hey, beautiful.

i hope you have some time for me tonight. call me 00**** **** **.

-j.y”

y/n felt dizzy, this couldn't be real. it must be a dream she would soon wake up from, she probably fainted in the venue, hit her head and ended up in the hospital.

she dialed the number with trembling hands, her heartbeat raced with each ring.

“you think she will call?” mingi asks. they were in their van a few blocks away from the venue waiting in case the girl would call. yunho shrugs, “i can only hope.” yunho sincerely hoped she would. it hasn’t even been 5 minutes since they drove away, and fans would probably take a half an hour or more to get out, even though yunho knew that he couldn’t help but feel nervous.

soon enough, the phone rings. yunho, rushes out of the car nervously wanting privacy.

“hello?” y/n says shakily. yunho couldn't help but smile, “i thought you wouldn’t call, princess.” he says. “i thought i was dreaming.” the girl replies to which he chuckles. “where are you now?”

“just a few blocks away, i had to…know if i was dreaming or not.”

“well, this is real.”

after a quick conversation regarding her whereabouts, yunho leaves to find the girl.

y/n fidgeted with the miffy keychain on her bag nervously as she waited for yunho. she got off the phone with jeong yunho a few seconds ago. she knew what it meant, but she was still nervous. anybody would jump at the chance of spending the night with their idol, she would too but it felt more like a dream than anything to y/n.

"hello again," jeong yunho said, making his way toward her. "hi, yunho!" she greeted him nervously. "i asked you out, but i don’t even know your name." he laughed, sounding equally nervous. "i’m so nervous, i’m sorry," he added, and it was hard to believe that jeong yunho, the star, could be nervous about meeting her, but i guess we’re all human after all. "you’re jeong yunho," she replied shyly, "you’re a star. i’m the one who should be nervous." he smiled softly. "what’s your name?" "i’m y/n," she said awkwardly, holding out her hand. "y/n," he murmured, his eyes lighting up. "your name is as beautiful as you are." instead of shaking her hand, he gently took it, his touch warm. "so… what now?" she asked, unsure. yunho chuckled and, with a quick glance toward the hotel he pointed to, he gently led her that way.

“i hope that wasn’t a turn-off,” he said, glancing back at her. his voice had a light, teasing quality. "are you kidding? i don’t think anybody could make signing an nda sexy," she replied in mock offense, before quickly adding, “but you did.”

he laughed, the sound soft and easy. as they neared the hotel, he looked at her again. "i would’ve taken you to dinner first, under different circumstances," he confessed. "you can always make it up to me next time," she teased.

yunho grinned, his gaze lowering to hers as he moved closer. he placed his forehead gently against hers, the simple contact sending a quiet warmth between them. “you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he whispered. "we could just talk." you nodded, understanding. you weren’t the type for casual hookups, but something about yunho felt safe, comforting. his hot breath against your skin only made the feeling more intense. “i want it,” you whispered back.

his smile deepened at your words. without hesitation, he leaned in, his lips warm and soft against yours. his hands found their way to your jaw, cradling your face as he deepened the kiss. you could feel the rush of breath between you, the heartbeat that seemed to sync with your own. “you can still refuse,” he murmured, pulling away briefly.

you pulled him back in by the collar of his shirt, your lips brushing against his. “how about a shower first?” you whispered against his lips. yunho raised an eyebrow, amused. “kinky.” “you’re probably a sweaty mess after the concert,” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed.he grinned, his eyes darkening with mischief. "there’s going to be a lot more sweating."

the second kiss was even more intense, more urgent. the taste of his lips, the shared warmth, the undeniable pull between you, it was intoxicating. clothes became an afterthought as you both fumbled to undress, each movement laced with anticipation. "we’ll take it to the shower then, baby," he chuckled, leading the way.

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #yunho ateez #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #yunho #yunho x reader #yunho imagines #yunho fluff #yunho fanfic #yunho x y/n #kpop imagines

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ccccatttta · 3 hours ago

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this is a random thought bc i got angsty, so!

walburga, who —in a mad attempt to stop regulus from becoming like sirius after he runs away from home—, obliviates regulus.

not completely, of course, but he makes him believe that he never had a brother in the first place. regulus is now the sole black heir and that's everything he knows; i don't put it past her to erase most of the abuse she caused, but still left enough to make him scared to disobey her.

and, like, it takes everyone too long to realize it.

first, sirius is not surprised his brother doesn't look at him anymore and pretty much pretends he doesn't exist, their bond has been severed completely to him, even if it hurts. and, well, he sort of wanted to get rid of his last name completely, so he pretty much asked everyone to not call him 'sirius black' ever again. so, how could regulus suspect anything.

then, everyone in slytherin knows not to talk about sirius in front of regulus (because he used to jinx them almost to death for that), and, sirius was officially disowned by the black family, so they do speak about regulus as the sole heir, as if sirius wasn't ever in the picture.

it's maybe pandora who finds out first.

barty and evan aren't sirius' biggest fans, and they don't like to confront regulus about how he feels, unless he's the one who wants to vent. they think that his way of coping is pretending like nothing happened, and while that's not healthy at all, regulus looks fine, super fine, even. so why would they want to interrupt his peace.

dorcas has been distancing a bit from them, because of the whole voldemort situation. she's no longer with them enough to realize regulus has been acting strange.

and pandora was a bit like evan and barty, at first. especially because, she knows regulus doesn't keep anything that's really hurting him for long. not to them. they just like to give him enough space to process and cool down. they let him come to them, and they will be waiting.

but then, regulus doesn't.

so, after a while she decides to ask him about sirius.

when regulus just answers "who's sirius?" with the most genuine and confused face on earth. she knows exactly what has happened.

i haven't thought further into it, maybe evan, barty and dora argue about what to do. the right thing would be to help him get back his memories. but regulus looks so much better without the heartbreak sirius has been unintentionally causing him since first year. and sirius seems to love his new life as the potter's ward. maybe that's the right thing.

but also, they know that, even with all the pain that he has caused him, regulus loves his brother more than anything and wouldn't want to just be forced to forget about him.

yeah. that was my random thought of the night. toodles!

#jegulus #marauders #wolfstar #regulus and sirius #sirius black #regulus black #the black brothers #house of black #the marauders era #the marauders #hp marauders #hp #harry potter

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reidphobic · 7 hours ago

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crashing into him tonight (he’s a paradox) - s. r.

in which your lessons continue, and you want to be more than spencer’s teacher. 4004 words. part two to the neighbor!au.

inexperienced!sub!spencer x dom!fem reader, jealousy, mommy kink, mutual masturbation, fingering, praise, very very mild degradation, brief cumplay? i guess? no use of y/n, reader is still super condescending but it’s still hot

It starts to become a routine for Spencer to knock on your door late at night, wearing a nervous smile and offering a quiet plea for another lesson. It’s not every night he’s home, but it’s enough that you start to notice his absence after a couple of days. You try not to read too far into it, remind yourself that the two of you just have fun, that Spencer is just your little plaything, and it doesn’t matter if he’s away somewhere using tricks you taught him on other women. And, besides, you’re hardly celibate yourself.

But after three nights of silence, you hear something so unfamiliar you almost don’t recognise it at first. A second voice in Spencer’s apartment — in his bedroom. You can’t quite make out any words, but you can tell exactly what’s happening, low murmurs giving way to soft moans, the shape of his name reaching your ear in a high, pitchy, voice. You scowl, huff. You know Spencer knows the walls are paper-thin. Has he even noticed that you haven’t brought anyone home when he’s there since you started sleeping together?

You lie awake, listening, until you can’t take the hurt any longer. You storm out of your apartment, drown the ugly feeling in the pit of your stomach in cheap, sour liquor. It’s not long before you’re leaving the bar again, head spinning, and back in your apartment with a willing body between your thighs. The guy — whose name you’ve already forgotten — is perfectly eager, all the right words, praises, moans as he touches you. His kiss is perfect on paper, just enough tongue and teeth and wandering hands, and you moan and stretch and purr when he fucks into you.

But it’s still all wrong. There’s too much of him; square shoulders and broad chest where you crave a slim, slight body. He praises where you want pleas, calls you baby instead of Mommy. The prospect of waking up to him in your bed makes your skin crawl, and you bundle the guy out of the door practically before he’s finished cumming. Sobered up and unpleasantly sticky, you stumble into the shower and try to scrub off the night’s sins. It doesn’t feel like it works.

Trying not to think about Spencer doesn’t work either. It doesn’t work as you toss and turn in bed, or when you’re getting ready for work, not even while your shift drags on and on and your mind is filled with a billion other things. You can half-feel the ghost of his presence, his favourite of your mugs undrank-from on the counter, one of his ties slung across a dining chair, a book he’d thought you might like resting on your coffee table.

It’s worse that he’s gone for so long — he’s been away on a case for ten days, and your lasting memory is the noise of him fucking someone else. The sound is still rattling dimly around your head as you stare aimlessly at the TV, your whole body sore after a long, late shift, when there’s a knock at your door. Unthinking, you open it, expecting your food delivery guy and instead coming face to face with Spencer.

You’re half-convinced you’ve fallen asleep, that he’s a cruel trick of your subconscious, and it must show on your face because Spencer’s face screws up in concern as he speaks. “Hi,” he murmurs. He’s disheveled in a way you’ve never seen him, bleary-eyed and shirt untucked, like he’s been sleeping in his clothes. “I, uh. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I came straight here, which sounds kind of stupid, ‘cause I live here, too, but, uh… I haven’t been inside my apartment yet.” You keep your face cool, impassive. “What… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I missed you.” Never mind that he fucked someone else the night before he left.

“Is that all?” you say, folding your arms across your chest. His face crumples, and you feel guilty all over again.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks, innocent and forlorn, and, God, you just want to sink your teeth into him right then and there.

But if you bite too hard, he’ll bleed. “I don’t know, Spencer. Did you? Or did you have fun?” you snap. “Did you use what I taught you?” The words taste bitter as they spill free, but you can’t swallow them back down. Spencer’s mouth opens and closes, but he stays silent. “Or, what, she wasn’t happy with you? You after one last practice run before you give the real thing another shot?”

“I… What?” He pauses. “This is because I… slept with someone else?”

You roll your eyes. “Wow. That 187 IQ really works wonders for you, huh?” You move to shut the door in his face, but he blocks you deftly, steps past you into your apartment so quickly you barely realise what happened. Right. FBI agent.

Spencer crosses the room, sits down at your dining table, motions for you to do the same. Your feet carry you into the chair without your permission. “So, you’re angry with me for sleeping with another girl, despite never communicating or agreeing on any kind of exclusivity. After… this.” He gestures vaguely to the space between you. “All started because I don’t know what I’m doing and you wanted to teach me?”

You sigh, turn his words over in your head. When he puts it that way, you sound ridiculous. And his saying I don’t know what I’m doing isn’t lost on you either. “I don’t think I knew, honey. I thought, this is just fun, just friends helping friends. And then I heard you, and I got so… possessive, I guess. And I couldn’t talk to you, because you were gone, so I just got more and more bitter.”

Reaching a hand across the table, Spencer gives you a tentative glance before taking hold of yours, running his thumb soothingly across your knuckles. “So, that night, the guy you were with, that was…”

“Fucking awful,” you joke, but he just looks concerned, doesn’t pick up on it. “No, it was… retaliation. God, that’s so embarrassing. The sex was fine, but he wasn’t you, honey.” At that, he finally smiles, and you feel it warm you from the inside out.

“And that’s what you want?” He licks his lips, touches his hair. His particular brand of skittish nervousness looks so good on him that it’s almost unfair. “Me?”

The disbelieving look on his face, frankly, is criminal. “Spencer, sweetheart, I can’t think of anything I’ve ever wanted more.” Your chairs scrape against the floor as you scramble up, grab at him everywhere you can reach, crash your lips into his. It’s sweet, soft, and you fight to hold your hunger at bay, trace his lips with gentle affection.

You work your way through the room, bumping into every possible piece of furniture and giggling into Spencer’s open mouth until you land on the couch in his lap. “This is familiar,” he says, smirking a little. Grabbing his jaw, you scowl playfully, leaning in to peck him on the lips.

Experimentally, you roll your hips down, find him deliciously eager under you. “It’s so cute how hard you get just from making out, sweetheart. So needy, baby.” You lean down, kiss his neck, suck a bruise into his soft skin. “What’d you think about?”

“Huh?” he murmurs, eyes glossy and lips swollen, wearing a pretty, dazed face. He’s oh-so gorgeous when you’ve kissed all the thoughts out of his head, operating on pure impulse, uninhibited.

Your fingers creep up to loosen his tie. “You said I couldn’t stop thinking about you. What were you thinking about?” You pull his tie off, untuck his shirt, start working on his buttons. “Was it dirty? Details, honey, c’mon.”

Spencer smiles up at you, angelic. “Not all of it,” he says, tracing delicate little patterns across the small of your back. “Thought about kissing you. A lot. About you laying in my lap, and we’re supposed to be watching a movie, but I’m just looking at you.” Your chest clenches. “How you listen when I talk… I don’t— People think I can’t tell, if they just nod in the right places, but I know.”

“Spencer, honey,” you say softly, kissing and nipping gently at his chest as you unbutton his shirt, exposing inches of silken skin with each movement. “God, you’re perfect.” You sigh, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Spencer brings his hand up to pet your hair, blunt nails scratching soothingly over your scalp.

“But… I, uh. That’s not all I thought about.” He’s nervous, now, the embarrassment that always comes when he wants to voice his desires; you’ve been trying to train it out of him, but it’s achingly slow going.

You smile encouragingly, kissing at his chest and gazing up at him with your best fuck-me eyes. “S’alright, baby. Tell Mommy, okay?”

“Thought about you on top of me. Your pretty… How pretty you look up there.”

You grin wickedly. “My tits, is that what you mean to say? You love your Mommy’s tits, don’t you, honey?” Spencer nods, head falling forward to bury his face in your chest. You let him hide for a moment, collect himself, before you nudge him to speak again.

Spencer’s eyes are glossy, his mouth red and bruised. He looks so sweet, your pretty, pliant little toy, perfectly ready for you to sink your claws into. “Mhmm. Love your tits, Mommy. Thought about you touching me, n’when you’re all mean and you don’t touch me.” He pouts, just a little, and you can’t resist shifting your hips and dragging a thumb across his swollen bottom lip.

“You like it when I’m mean, sweetheart?” He nods, dazed. “You want me to be a little meaner?” Spencer freezes under you, suddenly seeming tense and afraid. Damn. And you’d just gotten him to relax. You stroke his face with the back of your hand to soothe him. “You can say no, honey, it’s okay, I won’t be mad. Just wanna find out what makes you feel good, alright, pretty?”

“No, I… I want it. But just a little. Please.”

“Yeah, honey, that’s alright. But you gotta tell me if it’s ever too much, okay?” Spencer nods, and you raise an eyebrow. “Words, baby.”

It seems to take him a minute to find the words, spit-slick lips parted as he stares at you with lust-blown eyes. “Yes, Mommy. I will. I’ll tell you.”

You grind your hips down in reward, let Spencer roll his up to meet you. Pressing your lips to his, you swallow his whimper. “Good boy,” you murmur, and he beams. “Love it when you get all dumb like this. S’good for you, honey, not to be the clever one all the time.” You pull off his shirt, slide off his lap to admire him from a distance. Before he can whine at the loss, you cut him off. “Did you touch yourself?” Spencer tilts his head. “Sweetheart, did you masturbate thinking about me?”

Spencer’s mouth drops in a soft ‘o’ of understanding, cheeks flushing ruby-woo red. “Yes,” he admits, avoiding your gaze until you force his eyes back to you.

“God, you really are just clueless, huh? C’mon, show Mommy, baby. Show me how you touch yourself.” Spencer blinks dumbly. God, he must be worse off than you thought. “Spencer, honey, I know you jerk off. I heard you every damn night. S’what made me decide I had to get you all to myself.”

At that, the corner of his lip quirks. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was smirking at you. “Is that why you had a box of lingerie delivered to my apartment?” It’s your turn to be speechless. “Profiler,” he adds with a shrug.

“Alright, smartass. It worked, didn’t it?” you scoff. “And stop distracting me.” You set to work on what’s left of his clothes, unbuttoning his pants and palming his cock through his boxers. “Do you take off all your clothes first? Or do you keep ‘em on, make a mess of yourself?”

“No, I… I take them off,” he says. You raise an eyebrow as if to say go on. “Oh, y- you want me to..? Oh, o-okay.” With shaking hands, he slips out of his pants, then his boxers, stained with precum; the evidence of his desire has you practically drooling. His pretty dick springs free, thuds sickly against his stomach with a wet smack.

You can’t help the pulse of arousal that throbs through you at the sight of him. “Good boys don’t keep Mommy waiting, Spencer,” you chide, careful to avoid touching him. It’s clear how acutely he feels the lack of a pet name, the implication of your words, and he babbles out an apology.

Eagerly, you watch Spencer curl his hand around his cock, but he doesn’t move. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s hard— Don’t,” he interrupts himself when you smirk. “It’s difficult… with you watching me like this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you croon. “You like to think about my tits, right?” You pull off your shirt, flick it across the room. As if magnetised, Spencer’s eyes fall to your chest as you grab your tits, roll a nipple between two fingers. “There you go, honey. S’just you and your fantasy, okay? Now show me what you do when you think of me, okay?”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, takes a steadying breath. He’s endlessly fascinating; he’ll stare down killers without so much as flinching, but a willing girl with her boobs out is just too much for him. Slowly, he starts to pump his cock, spreading precum down his length. You watch him speed up until he’s jacking himself furiously, hand flying along his dick so hard and fast he must be giving himself friction burn. He bites down on his lower lip, whimpers through his teeth, the sound familiar and erotic. “Mommy,” he whines, high and breathy, hips jerking up into his hand. You can’t watch this much longer.

Placing a palm on his thigh to still him, you slowly cover his hand with your free one. “Honey, is that how you get yourself off?” Brow scrunched in confusion, he nods. God, the poor boy is hopeless. “And that feels good?”

“It makes me orgasm quickly,” Spencer answers, as if that’s remotely the same thing. “I- I have trouble sleeping, and an orgasm releases endorphins that relax both the mind and the body. It helps,” he says placidly.

You nod slowly. “And when you make yourself come like that, does that feel the same as when I make you come?” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t, right? It feels better when I do it?”

“So much,” he breathes. “You’re so much better.”

You smile indulgently down at him. “Oh, honey. That’s because you’re doing it all wrong,” you say, syrupy and condescending. “When you get off, it makes you feel better, right? Yeah. And you’re so focused on that, you forget to make yourself feel good. That genius mind of yours’d be blown finding out how long I could spend getting myself off.” You pat his cheek. “Maybe I’ll show you someday.

A punched-out whimper slips from his lips, the sound falling straight between your legs. “What am I doing wrong?” Spencer asks, low and feeble.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mommy’s gonna show you, okay?” He nods eagerly. Sure, you’ve jerked him off before, but this feels different. You’re not just giving him pleasure, you’re showing him how to take it for himself. “Show me again, but slow, okay?” Obediently, Spencer curls his hand again, pumps his cock. “See, honey, feel that drag? Hurts, right? And not in the good way,” you add with a grin, and Spencer gulps. A slightly wicked idea crosses your mind. “We’re gonna go to bed now, okay?”

Like a lost little puppy, Spencer trails after you, joins you on the bed. You let him kiss you again, until his whines get too needy and his hips start to twitch. “Will you open that top drawer for me, sweetheart? Got something in there that’ll help you, okay?” Obediently, he rolls over, tugs the drawer open. You study his face carefully, watch his jaw go slack as he realises what you’re showing him. Your collection of sex toys stares up at him, and he gapes like a fucking fish. An adorable fish, but a fish all the same.

“What do you… you want me to..?” he says, still staring like he couldn’t possibly compute what you’re asking of him.

You laugh, only a little meanly. “Don’t worry, honey,” you say, padding around the bed to help him out. “You’re not ready for that stuff. Not yet, anyway. You’re such a good boy for Mommy, Spencer, such a quick learner. Pretty soon I’ll have you begging for ‘em. But not tonight, alright?” You lean down to pluck a small plastic bottle from the drawer. “This is all we need tonight. Do you know what that is, baby?”

Squinting his eyes, Spencer inspects the bottle. “Lubricant?” he says, mouth forming the word into a question.

“Such a clever boy,” you croon, settling yourself between his legs and taking his hand. You turn it palm up and squint a generous amount of lube into Spencer’s hand. “Spread that on your pretty dick for me, okay, baby?” The slick sound of it fills your ears, pulses in your cunt, and you can see on his face how much better he feels even from a scant touch. Eyes fluttering shut, he groans, but waits obediently for another instruction. “That’s it. That’s Mommy’s good boy, huh? Alright, honey. Now stroke yourself for me. You wanna start nice and slow, okay?”

You’re transfixed as he begins to touch himself, cock wet and glistening as it disappears into his fist. Lube drips out across his fingers, slick noises filling your room. “Feels so good, Mommy,” he whimpers, free hand fisting in your sheets.

“Oh, honey, I know,” you murmur, sitting up and sliding your hand into your panties. You moan as you brush your clit, collect your wetness on your fingertips. “Okay, I want you to just draw some little circles across the head, yeah? Like you do on my clit. Just try it out, see what feels good.” The sight is fucking mesmerising, and from the sounds spilling from his lips and the flush in his cheeks, it’s a miracle he hasn’t cum all over himself yet. “Alright, baby. Doing so good. You can make yourself cum now, alright? Just keep doin’ what feels good.”

Your lips part around a moan as you watch him. He speeds up, slows a little, experimenting with pace and pressure. You’re strangely proud even as you rub frantic little circles into your clit, slowly start to fuck yourself on your fingers. Desire pools at the base of your spine, and you moan his name as you speed up, cunt pulsing around your fingers. It seems like that’s what does Spencer in, a pathetic whimper of Mommy, yes spilling from his lips as ropes of cum splash up against his chest. His body convulses, gasping and moaning incoherently as his orgasm takes over.

Still panting as you finger yourself, you smile blithely over at him. “Still with me, pretty? How was that?”

Gasping, Spencer blinks helplessly at you for a moment. “Thank you.” Suddenly dismayed, he looks down at himself. “Gross,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “All messy, aren’t you? You want Mommy to get you cleaned up?” He nods, expecting you to get up and fetch a washcloth. Instead, you press him down until he’s lying supine, lean over him so your boobs hang in his face. Like he can’t resist, Spencer licks a stripe along your chest. You giggle softly, press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, start to work your way down. Carefully, you lap up the mess dripping across his chest, and he moans brokenly. Your eyes flutter closed as his taste hits your tongue, a needy ache burning between your thighs the longer you lick him clean.

He chokes on a breath when you wrap your lips around his head, clean up the last drops of cum beaded on his tip. “I can’t-” he clears his throat. “I can’t… go again… yet,” he says, cheeks pinking up adorably.

You pull off, lick your lips exaggeratedly. “S’okay, honey. I don’t need you to. Yet,” you add with a wink. “Just wanted to get you cleaned up.” Still desperately horny, you crawl up his body, kiss him furiously. “Spencer,” you moan against his lips. “I want you to make me cum. Do you wanna make Mommy cum, baby?”

“Mhmm. Yeah, I want to. What do you…? Can I, uh… Eat you out?” he asks timidly, the final few words unfamiliar on his tongue and belying his desperation.

God above, where did you find this boy? “Another time, honey. Later tonight, if you’re lucky. But I’m planning on keeping your mouth nice and busy for now, okay?” You grab his hand, slide it around to the front of your panties, grind your clit against the heel of his palm through the lace. “Want you to fuck me with your fingers, okay, sweetheart?”

Nodding frantically, Spencer tugs your panties down just enough that he can fit his hand against your cunt. You cup his jaw, kiss him hard as he slips a finger inside you. “You’re so warm,” he breathes, rubbing delicate circles into your clit as your cunt pulses around him.

“That’s it, pretty. Such a good boy. Just like Mommy taught you, alright?” you moan, arching your back as hot pleasure twists under your skin. Spencer slides another finger in, curls then expertly, as if he’s been practicing. Then, a blinding spark of pure ecstasy flashes through you. “Oh, my fucking God! There, baby, right there. Don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you babble, your kiss more spit and moans than tongue and lips. Spencer doesn’t let up, hits your g-spot over and over, still rubbing soft circles into your clit. You were already close before he started, and his glorious, frankly brutal assault on the most sensitive places in your body leaves you powerless.

You surrender to it willingly, pure pleasure wiping your mind clean. It’s so forceful you almost black out, gasping into Spencer’s mouth and writhing against him. Ecstasy floods every inch of you, pulse roaring in your ears and hammering in your chest. Spencer’s fingers are still deep inside you when you come to, and he’s staring down at the point they disappear into your cunt. “Sorry,” he murmurs, gently pulling them out. “I just really like being… inside you.”

God, you can’t wait to teach him about cockwarming. “So sweet,” you coo. He lifts his hand, sucks your arousal off his fingers, and you groan. “I think we need to have a little talk, honey,” you murmur, brushing sweat-soaked hair out of his face. He nods.

“I didn’t enjoy it,” he says quickly. “The other night. I mean, it was… It wasn’t… I don’t know. All I could think about was that she wasn’t you. I was, uh… Sort of afraid?” he says with a humorless laugh.

You make a soft, concerned noise. “What do you mean, honey?” Your fists clench at your sides, head pounding furiously all of a sudden.

“Just that… I feel so safe with you. And it wasn’t that she made me feel bad, or unsafe, or anything. But I was so worried about doing something wrong, and I never felt that with you, and all I wanted was you instead.” Spencer curls his body into yours as you hook a leg over his waist.

Brushing your thumb over his cheek softly, you gaze into his sweet, long-lashed eyes. “You have me, sweetheart. I promise.”

#i’m really supposed to be writing an essay but LALALALA #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #writing #smut #neighbor!au

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kikyoupdates · 3 days ago

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For Tomorrow's Sake ⭑˚💫⭑ 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒

various!jjk x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn

You never believed reincarnation was possible, least of all in the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen. However, from the moment you meet Gojo Satoru, it’s impossible to deny. Whether it’s a miracle or some kind of curse, you find yourself growing up alongside the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you know what the future holds in store. You know exactly what kind of tragedies await. Perhaps that’s why you were brought into this world. If it means saving people from a gruesome fate, you’ll gladly suffer in their place. You’ll do whatever it takes.All for the sake of a better tomorrow.

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“I didn’t think he was actually serious about watching us train.”

Toji glances next to him, brows furrowed. You’re holding onto his hand as you walk side-by-side, and every so often, you beam at him, giving him a front row view to your adorable little face. On the opposite side of you, however, also holding your hand, is Satoru. You’re in the middle of both of them, as happy as can be. It’d be nice if you could say the same for Satoru, but you’ve come to learn that he can be awfully grumpy whenever Toji is involved. He’s not used to having to share your affection.

Satoru squeezes your hand and scowls. “I already told you before that I’m not letting you train [Name] unless I can see it happen with my own eyes. You’re not allowed to hurt her. That was the condition.”

“Having to get permission from a child…” Toji shakes his head disappointedly. “I wonder how I’ve fallen so low.”

“I heard that, asshole!”

“Satoru, please be nice to Toji,” you say—much to Satoru’s immense frustration. You glance up at Toji yet again, and the moment you smile at him, he instinctively does the same. “He agreed to train me. For free . Isn’t that amazing? Especially since something tells me he really likes money.”

“You’re right,” Toji chuckles. “I love money.”

“Everyone loves money,” Satoru mutters. “You’re not special.”

“[Name], I get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”

“That’s because I don’t .”

You never thought you’d see the day where Satoru and Toji would bicker childishly back and forth. After all, the only other meeting they were supposed to have was many years from now, in a literal fight to the death. You know it’s too soon to get your hopes up, but already, the story has changed. And you intend to keep it that way.

Eventually, you arrive at your designated training spot for the day. It’s a clearing in the middle of the woods. You’ve got plenty of space here, and if Toji really wanted to, he could easily knock a few trees down and make even more room.

“I’m a little nervous,” you admit. “But also excited, because I really want to get stronger. I know it’s important to manage my expectations, though. I’ll never be anywhere near as strong as you, Toji. How did you get to be so strong, without any cursed energy?”

You already know the answer to that question, of course, but you figure it’s about time he explains it himself so that you don’t have to keep pretending to be unaware.

“Ah, right. I never told you. It’s a Heavenly Restriction,” Toji says. “That’s the trade-off. I lost all of my cursed energy in exchange for my body becoming stronger, and all of my senses being sharpened. Because of this, I can still see and interact with curses, despite not having any actual cursed energy. I need to use cursed tools in order to exorcize them, since curses can’t be killed without cursed energy, but it’s never been a problem.”

Of course it hasn’t been. Look at you. You’re basically the Arnold Schwarzenegger of this universe.

“Wow,” you marvel. “No wonder you’re so cool! I could tell right away that you were super strong. Why would your clan members be so rude to you? You don’t even need cursed energy when you’re already this powerful. I’ve never met any of them, but they sound stupid.”

Toji cracks another smile. “ Very stupid. Like I said before, they’re a bunch of fools who can’t even tell the difference between a head and an ass.”

“He’s talking about asses again,” Satoru grimaces. “[Name], does it really have to be this guy who trains you? I’m seriously worried he’s a pervert. I can already tell he’s going to be a bad influence.”

“Toji is the best mentor I’ll ever have,” you state firmly, and you make sure to wrap your little arms around him, adamant.

Satoru lets out a heavy sigh. It’s okay. He’ll come around to Toji eventually. It’ll just take a while for him to get used to things. Also, Toji won’t be a bad influence for you, but rather, you plan on being a good influence for him. Maybe, depending on how things go, he won’t abandon Megumi this time around. Maybe he’ll actually try to be a good dad.

You’ll be overjoyed if you can make that happen.

Toji pats your head a few times. A bit roughly, but the sentiment is there. You may not realize it, but you’re already starting to grow on him quite a bit. He’s never met a kid like you before. Or anyone, really. Someone he has so much in common with, but in spite of the unfortunate circumstances you’ve been born into, you manage not to give in to your bitterness and hate, unlike him.

And so, Toji will train you. He’ll teach you how to fight, how to use cursed tools properly, and how to hone your body in order to surpass your limits. But along the way, he may very well end up learning a thing or two from you as well.

He will be your teacher, and you will be his.

“Actually, I have something sort of similar to a Heavenly Restriction,” you say.

Toji blinks, visibly surprised. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah. Well, technically, it’s a restriction I imposed upon myself. A Binding Vow. I decided to make one a while back to try and become stronger.”

“What kind of vow is it?” Toji asks, and already, you can hear Satoru groaning as he buries his face in his hands. Even just the mention of your vow seems to bring him immense agony. Poor guy.

“Like you, I can’t use cursed energy. Not because I don’t have any, but because the second I use it to hurt someone, I’ll die.”

You beam, brighter than the sun itself, and of course, Toji can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Every time!” Satoru fumes. “Every time, you talk about the conditions of your vow with a smile on your face! What’s wrong with you? It’s not something to be taken lightly!”

“I’m not taking it lightly. I just think it’s cool that Toji and I have so much in common. We were fated to meet!”

“You barely have anything in common! He’s allowed to fight without the risk of constantly dying, unlike you! Stupid! Moron! Dumbass!”

You glance over at Toji with a frown. “Do you see how he talks to me? I’m starting to think this is an abusive friendship.”

“A Binding Vow where your life is on the line?” Toji blinks repeatedly. “Why would you do something like that? What… did you gain from it?”

“Well, I’m really weak and I don’t have much cursed energy to begin with, and I still haven’t shown signs of manifesting a cursed technique of my own. So, in exchange for risking my life with this vow, I gained the ability to convert cursed energy into positive energy. So that I can heal people. Isn’t that awesome? I’m so smart.” You pause for a moment, then grin. “Do you have a knife on you? If you want, I can give you a demonstration—”

“No knives!” Satoru cries out. He’s already traumatized enough from the last time it happened, and he certainly doesn’t need to see it again.

Seriously. Poor guy.

Toji didn’t think you could possibly surprise him any more, but time and time again, you outdo yourself. Like Satoru, he never knows what to expect. And Toji has always prided himself on his cool-headedness and ability to make rational decisions. He hates the world of jujutsu sorcerers, true enough, but even so, he’s kept his anger at bay all this time. If he really wanted to, he probably could have slaughtered the entire Zen’in Clan by now.

“You’ve drastically increased the odds of you dying, in order to help other people?” Toji can’t help but marvel. “You really are selfless. What would possess you to put someone else’s needs above your own, when people have only ever treated you cruelly?”

“I don’t really think of it that way,” you frown. “It’s not like people have to be nice to me in order for me to do the right thing. People can be strong in lots of different ways, but jujutsu sorcerers kill curses in order to save lives, right? So, that’s what I decided I wanted to do. It seemed like the most important thing. Using my strength to make the world a better place.”

On this point, you and Toji differ. He’s nowhere near as kind or self-sacrificial as you are. Admittedly, he’s never even bothered to think about saving anyone’s life. All he ever wanted was to be acknowledged for being strong. But the Zen’in Clan immediately shunned him, because he was born without cursed energy.

Still, it’s impressive. The fact that you don’t let yourself be discouraged, no matter how others treat you. No matter how often they dismiss you and treat you like dirt. If you’re able to stomach all of the abuse thrown your way and still have such selfless goals, then at the very least, mentally… you’re already stronger than he is.

“You really are the strangest little girl I’ve ever met,” Toji chuckles fondly.

“Thanks,” you grin, and once again, you wrap your arms around him and give him the biggest hug you can manage.

Satoru rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t supposed to be a compliment, but whatever.”

Toji lets you hug him for a while. He’s already gotten used to how affectionate you are, and he’s surprised that he doesn’t seem to mind it. But as easy as it would be just to stand around and chat, you’re here for a reason.

You’re here to get stronger.

“Now,” Toji says, lips pulled into a smirk, “shall we begin?”

It was bound to happen eventually. Toji has been training you for a little while now, and it was only a matter of time until the Zen’in Clan found out.

Needless to say, they’re not happy about it.

They already don’t think highly of Toji to begin with. In their eyes, he’s a failure. Someone unfit to be a sorcerer. But now they know that he’s training you, another failure. At least, on paper. These elitist dickheads seriously only care about one thing, and it’s power. But only the kind of power that they deem acceptable. Which is ridiculous, because Toji could easily break all of their skulls if he really wanted to. They’re seriously playing with fire.

Long story short, you’ve been summoned. By the Zen’in Clan. The Gojo Clan of course heard about this and essentially told them to fuck off and mind their own business, but then the Zen’in Clan was all like, “You’re telling us to fuck off? No, no—you don’t get to do that. We’re the ones who tell you to fuck off. Who do you think you are to boss us around? You’re all a bunch of dipshits. Don’t make us go Super Saiyan on your asses.”

…okay, fine, that’s not exactly what they said. You’re paraphrasing. But the situation kept escalating, and it was getting really tense, so you decided the best thing to do would be to just get the meeting over and done with.

Which brings you to the present.

Toji scowls irritably. “You didn’t have to come. All this does is make these rotten assholes feel like they can order everyone around and get away with it.”

The Zen’in Clan estate stands before you. It’s even bigger than the Gojo Clan estate. Which makes sense, because Satoru is essentially a one-man army. The Gojo Clan still has many skilled sorcerers among their ranks, but as a whole, the Zen’in Clan is most likely stronger.

Not that it really matters, because Satoru could easily take on all of them at once, and win .

“It’s okay. I don’t really mind,” you shrug. “They can be as grumpy as they want. You’re still going to train me no matter what, right?”

“Of course. I refuse to ever bow to them.”

Toji grits his teeth, visibly seething, and meanwhile, Satoru crosses his arms. He came with you, of course. He outright refused to let you go on your own. Even though you reassured him that Toji would be by your side, but still. As always, he’s overprotective to a fault. He probably fears the Zen’in Clan might mistreat you, the way your own clan did.

“If they say something to get on my nerves, we’re leaving,” Satoru mutters.

“You should,” Toji nods. “Everyone here is disgusting trash, dragged up from the deepest, murkiest recesses of hell —”

“Alright, alright, let’s just go!” you exclaim, grabbing both of them by the hands and pulling them along.

It’s strange, being in a place that you know so much about, and yet, it still feels so foreign. You already know that in the future, all of these people will be slaughtered. By Maki. You’re not quite sure what it’ll take to prevent that. Maybe if you’re able to keep Mai safe. But then again, this place is home to parents such as Maki’s father, who would go so far as to try and kill his own daughters, so you’re not even sure if you want to save them.

You suppose you’ve got plenty of time to think about it. A lot will happen before then. You need to focus on saving everyone else first.

You and Toji are both used to being looked down upon. You’re no stranger to cruel, scornful looks, and neither is he. Evidently, though, the Zen’in Clan members weren’t expecting Gojo Satoru to show up as well. Because he’s here, no one dares to so much as even frown at you. Some stop and stare for a few moments, having never laid eyes upon him before, some instinctively cast their heads down, and others opt to avoid looking at him altogether, out of jealousy, inferiority, and resentment.

You have to admit, having Satoru here helps. Anyone with half a brain knows better than to try anything funny.

You’re brought to one of the rooms and told to wait for the head of the clan to arrive. Snacks and tea have been laid out for you, and you happily gorge yourself, seemingly without a care in the world.

Toji sighs. “You’re making yourself right at home, aren’t you?”

“I’m just trying to get comfortable,” you reply, cheeks stuffed. “They put out these snacks for us, so it’s okay if I eat all of them, right? They won’t get mad?”

“I doubt it, but it’d be funny if they did.”

Ironically, you, the weakest of the bunch, are the least concerned out of everyone. Toji is in a shit mood because he hates everything and anything to do with the Zen’in Clan, and Satoru is stressed out because he’s constantly worrying about you, and meanwhile you’re just… chilling. Also, the snacks are pretty good. You might seriously finish them all at this rate.

Time passes. It seems the clan leader is determined to make you wait as long as humanly possible. Honestly, you’re starting to wonder if he brought you here just to laugh at how he’s wasting your time. You feel like you’re being trolled.

Eventually, though, the door to the room slides open.

But it’s not at all who you were expecting to see.

It’s a boy. He’s small, most likely around your age, and peering into the room inquisitively. His eyes widen when he takes note of Satoru, of course, but for some reason, he seems to be paying Toji the most attention of all.

Ah.

It takes a little while for you to realize who he is, because he’s still young and hasn’t yet dyed his hair in that distinct blond shade, and also, he’s missing his ear piercings. But you recognize those sharp, upturned brown eyes, and his childlike appearance becomes more and more familiar, the longer you think about it.

This boy is none other than Zen’in Naoya.

There he is. There’s the little misogynist.

Naoya hesitates for a moment before stepping into the room. He’s alone, by the looks of it. The clan leader isn’t with him. You suppose he must have stopped by out of pure intrigue.

Naoya eagerly slides the door closed, then bounds over to Satoru. “You’re him, right?” he asks, eyes all but sparkling. “You’re Gojo Satoru, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Satoru replies, visibly disinterested.

“Wow, cool! I never thought I’d actually get to meet you. I’m Naoya. My dad’s the leader of the clan, and he says that one day, I’ll take over as the new leader! Everyone tells me I’m a genius. I even manifested my cursed technique early.”

Naoya puffs out his chest, looking proud as can be. He’s supposed to be a year younger than you, so he’s not even seven years old yet, but it seems like that ego of his is already going strong. Not that you’re surprised. That’s what happens when you spoil a kid and fill their head with arrogance and conceit. Kids are the product of their environment, after all.

“That’s nice,” Satoru comments insincerely, and you almost feel bad for Naoya, because he grins widely, not realizing that it wasn’t a genuine compliment.

Naoya then turns towards Toji, and his smile gets even brighter. “Toji, is it true? I heard that you’re training someone. He must be super strong, then. Since you agreed to help him. What’s he like? Wasn’t he supposed to come today? Or is he not coming until later?”

“What do you mean?” Toji frowns. “She’s right here.”

“ She ?”

“Yes, she. As in, her. The girl sitting next to me. [Name].”

Naoya slowly turns his head towards you, eyes gradually filling with horror. He can’t seem to believe what he’s hearing. Also, it probably doesn’t help that you’ve been stuffing your face with crackers this whole time.

You hurry to swallow what’s in your mouth, then smile. “Hi, Naoya. I’m [Name]. It’s nice to meet you.”

“What?” Naoya gapes. “Toji, this… is who you’re training? You’re training a girl ?”

Oh boy. Here it comes.

“... but girls are weak!”

As expected, Naoya wastes no time in spewing his flawed ideology. He seems outright offended by you. In fact, up until now, you may as well have been invisible to him.

“Especially this girl,” Naoya continues, pointing an accusing finger your way. “She barely has any cursed energy. I can tell. And she definitely doesn’t have a Heavenly Restriction like you do, Toji. Right? She’s a weakling. Why would you train a girl? It’s a waste of time. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Toji narrows his eyes. “Is it really any business of yours who I decide to train?”

Naoya takes a step back, faltering for a moment. You know that he looks up to Toji. Their relationship wasn’t really expanded upon much, but even though they’re cousins, they’re not very close. Naoya’s admiration for Toji is a one-way street. He might even be jealous of you because you get to train with his idol.

“Why do you assume girls are weak?” you ask.

“It’s not an assumption,” Naoya glares. “Girls are supposed to grow up and become wives, then give birth to powerful sorcerers. They’re not strong enough to fight. They should leave all of the serious stuff to men, and focus on cooking, taking care of children, and making their husbands happy.”

“Hm. I see.”

You stare at him long and hard, watching as he clenches his fists and grows more frustrated by the second.

Then, you smile.

“I think you’re kind of stupid.”

Naoya blinks repeatedly. It actually looks like his brain short-circuits for a few moments. Once again, he can’t help but feel like his ears are deceiving him. He’s a genius. That’s what everyone always says.

No one has ever, ever called him stupid.

“Take that back!” Naoya childishly exclaims. “Who do you think you are to talk to me that way? I’m not stupid! I’m a hundred percent smarter than you are! You’re just a dumb, weak little girl, and you must have tricked Toji into training you!”

Satoru’s expression darkens. “Hey. You don’t get to say that to her. I’m the only one who’s allowed to call [Name] dumb.”

Even though the strongest sorcerer in the world is addressing him, right now, Naoya is so focused on his hatred of you that he doesn’t even pay him any mind. You’re not invisible anymore. Suddenly, you’re the only person he can see.

And it pisses him off.

“I just think what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense,” you shrug. “How could all women be weak? I’m sure some are weak. But there are men who are weak, too. Anyone can be weak. Or strong. Nothing is set in stone. And if you put in enough effort, then it’s even possible for someone who used to be weak to become strong. That’s how I see it, at least.”

Naoya grits his teeth. He’s so angry that he’s shaking. Clearly, his ego took a massive hit when you called him stupid. But if he’s going to say stupid things, then you feel compelled to point out just how stupid they are.

“[Name] is easily smarter than you,” Satoru sighs. “She’s even smarter than me . She likes to act dumb, but she’s actually gifted. She’s only seven years old, but academically, she’s as smart as a high-schooler. Between the two of you, she’s the real genius.”

“...what?”

Naoya looks taken aback. Since Gojo Satoru said it, it must be true. Once again, his brain can’t compute. He’s supposed to believe that a girl is superior to him? No… even if it’s true, it doesn’t matter. What matters is strength , and that’s something you don’t have.

“S-So what if you’re good at school?” Naoya huffs. “Studying and getting good grades doesn’t mean anything. You’re still weak . We’re jujutsu sorcerers. Are you going to pull out a textbook while you’re fighting a curse and expect to win? Ha! Don’t make me laugh. You’re just a girl, and you need to take back what you said about me being stupid, or else I’ll get really angry!”

He proceeds to slam his little fists down onto the table, and in doing so, he accidentally breaks one of the small plates in half. You watch as he winces, and a cut appears on his hand. It’s a relatively shallow wound, but blood flows from it nevertheless.

Naoya bites down on his lip, tears pricking his eyes. He’s clearly resisting the urge to cry. He’s probably been taught never to show weakness, or to complain. Still, he’s only a kid, and it must hurt. Plus, he’s probably pretty embarrassed right now. You’d feel bad for him if he started wailing in front of his beloved Toji.

You offer a gentle smile, and without saying anything, you reach out and grab Naoya’s hand in yours. He flinches, and he’s probably just about to slap your hand away, but before he manages to, you take a deep breath and concentrate.

It only takes a few seconds. One moment, Naoya is cradling his bleeding cut, and the next, you’re wiping his blood off with a napkin and revealing clear, unblemished skin.

“There you go,” you beam. “All better now. You’re okay, right? It doesn’t hurt anymore?”

“Huh…?”

Naoya stares down at his hand in disbelief. He swears there was a cut there, just a second ago. But now, it’s… gone? And so is the pain. It’s already a thing of the past, and it leaves him wondering whether he just imagined the whole thing.

…no, that can’t be. After all, the broken plate is still there. The broken plate he cut himself with just a few moments ago. Which can only mean that you healed him. You healed him? Seriously? Someone like you knows reverse cursed technique, which is something even the most elite sorcerers struggle to grasp?

All of a sudden, it feels like the entire room is spinning. Naoya swears he’s seeing stars. Everything is so backwards. Nothing makes any sense. The fact that you know how to use positive energy, the fact that Toji is training you… just, none of it.

And to make matters even worse, you’re still smiling.

“Like I said,” you hum. “Anyone can be strong. You never know what to expect, so maybe you should try to give people a chance.”

Naoya doesn’t respond. He can’t come up with what to say, and even if he tried to speak, he doubts the words would form.

From this moment onward, he won’t be able to get you off his mind.

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

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