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scarletcomalies · 3 months ago

Text

soul bounds intertwined

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Part I, Part II

Word count: 5,864

Warnings: Ghosting, public confrontation and fighting, Billy being an idiot. 18+ content, degrading, pet names, magic strap that Wanda can feel as if it's real, blowjob (W. receiving), oral (R. Receiving), strap-on usage (R. receiving), taking Polaroid pictures while doing it, slapping, overstimulation, fingering, squirting aftercare.

Taglist: @alexawynters @ageofolsen @imjustvibingsworld @huggingkoalas @unadulteratedballoonduck @megsheather @kimiisims-blog @morganismspam23 @reginassweetheart @vyvvycg @cindyangelicss @newyork1432 @imaginaryblogger01 @sleepless-cloudy @starryskiesandboys

A/N: This is it. I cannot begin to express how unbelievably happy it makes me to see all the love you gave to this trilogy 🥹 I also had a good laugh as I read the frustrated reblogs on part II MWAHAHA!!! Hope you like this last one part. Thank you 3000 once again. 💓

Following the incidents at the Maximoff residence, you thought that Wanda had completely cut you out of her life. However, a few months later, she reached out to you, pulling you into a situation that would lead to unforeseen twists and turns.

You couldn't recall the last time you ran as if your life depended on it.

Your best guess was when you accidentally set the treadmill to 24 kilometers per hour, and while you were figuring out where the button to slow down was, you had to keep that pace so as not to fall.

However, the adrenaline that coursed through your veins the instant Wanda laid her hands and lips on you for the first time, followed by her command for you to leave, was so inmense that it was no wonder your body mistook it for danger, screaming for you to escape immediately.

And you obeyed, running to your car as if Wanda was chasing you with a knife, determined to snatch your destiny and your future in a matter of seconds, when in reality, she remained static. She didn't move an inch from where she left you, but her gaze haunted you all the way home.

You could still feel it piercing right at the back of your mind, causing this sensation to send unconscious impulses to your body, such as occasionally checking the backseat through the rearview mirror, when you knew there was no one but you in the car.

You scarcely noticed when you arrived at your apartment or when you collapsed onto your bed. Your mind was too tangled in a whirlwind of confusion and shock to be mindful of your own actions.

What did this mean for you and Wanda? Was there any way to turn back from this? Questions raced through your mind, but one fact stood amongst all of those uncertainties: things would never be the same again.

Three long months where your mind pirouetted through endless what-ifs.

What if you had turned down Billy's advances from the start? What if you had been more discreet about taking those photographs? What if you had never blurted out the confession Wanda had forced from you? What if you had stayed, on your knees, begging for her forgiveness, instead of running away as though your feelings were a crime?

Despite your mind's endless wanderings, your thoughts unavoidably drifted back to the same place; her lips on yours, like a forbidden fruit that was worth all of your sinning.

Oh, how intoxicatingly wet they felt, how expertly her tongue and hands managed to cast a spell of desire that tormented your very existense, driving you to a fervor that dangerously danced on the edge of madness.

And so you made Herculean efforts with words, devoting at least two hours each week to finding new ways to let Wanda know that you never intended for this situation to escalate like it did, yet none succeeded reaching to her distant heart.

It was painfully clear that just one response from her could end this torment, yet she played a cruel game of a calculated and well-deserved revenge.

She didn't block you. That would have been a closure, a clear statement she wanted nothing more to do with you. Instead, she left you on read immediately, ensuring there was no doubt she was ignoring you. She left you hanging on a thread of false hope, teasing you with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it'll be different next time.

Her behavior was akin to that of a prepotent God, relishing in the power to decide whether to answer the prayers of her humble believers or subject them to the agony of her indifference.

It took you long enough to realize you wouldn't have any of it anymore. You dared to test the predictability of her cruel game, refusing to give her power over you any longer.

Fortunately for you, in the third month since you last saw her —from which a month and a half you spent without writing to her— you received a call from her.

You let it go to voicemail twice, so as not to seem too eager to hear from her, and finally called her back the next day.

"Oh, so fast you were answering my calls before, and now you want to play hard?" Was the first thing she said to you.

You rolled your eyes.

How dare she protest for it when she had you drifting and yearning for so long?

"What do you need?" You asked in as neutral a tone as possible. You weren't going to answer in annoyance, or it would mean you were still affected by this whole situation.

"You're going to show up at the meeting Tony Stark organized, at the Avengers Compound, remember it was a pending thing?" It wasn't a request, it was an order. "This time, I'm bringing the boys, and you're going to tell Billy everything. Everything, (Y/N)."

You scoffed, both indignant and surprised. The latter due to the fact that Wanda might not have told Billy about what had happened.

"You never told him yourself?" You inquired, curiosity getting the better of you.

"I don't have the heart to tell him," she replied. "But I suppose you do, since you had the heart to do what you did."

You were going to justify yourself immediately, but stopped midtracks. You weren't going to sound like a broken record, repeating the same old story to her again.

"And if I refuse?" You challenged her.

"I can ruin things for you beyond repair," Wanda responded confidently. "Your career, your reputation, you name it. Don't underestimate what I'm capable of when pushed."

Her words cut through any defiance you might have felt, leaving you defeated and humiliated, just like that night.

Maybe it was abuse of power, but you brought this upon yourself, and she just wanted to make sure you paid for hurting someone she loved. You would have done the same, and you adored her even more for that.

At your silence, she added, "And bring all the photographs you took of me. I don't want to give you the pleasure of having a single trace of me after this."

And that's how you ended up at the Avengers Compound, Upstate New York.

If your nerves weren't consuming your stomach like a potent acid burner, you would have appreciated much more the fresh air outside the building, and how silence finally prevailed in your surroundings, the hectic sounds of the crowded city now long gone.

"Ready?" Kate asked, looking at you with a sheepish, concerned look once she pulled the handbrake.

"Yeah," you replied amidst a deep breath that you didn’t even know for how long you’ve been holding.

While you both stepped out of Kate’s car, the weight of your hand purse almost pulled you back into the seat, knowing that two things in there held the delicate fate of your relationship with Wanda and of your career.

It contained your lipstick, your phone, and all the photographs, along with a letter that would be a last attempt to clear things up.

At the front door, a female voice through a screen asked for your name and Kate's, and once it was given, she replied: "You're on the list. Welcome, (Y/N) and Kate."

You held your hand purse tightly, as you walked to the elevator and Kate pressed the floor's button. The only audible sound on the way upstairs was the click of your heel anxiously tapping against the floor, and your heavy breathing.

"Easy, you find Billy, tell him, 'Hey, I liked your mom all this time, you just were delusional,' give the pictures and letter to Wanda, take my car, and get out," Kate tried to cheer you up, making it sound as simple as she was telling it, when to you, it was a life-or-death feat.

You laughed more out of commitment than anything else.

There was no point in contradicting her words if the elevator opened within two seconds of her finishing her sentence.

You spotted Wanda almost immediately.

She was standing near the entrance, her posture rigid, and her eyes immediately fixed on you with an intensity that could burn a hole right through you and all the walls of the building together. The way she looked at you so quickly revealed that she was watching the elevator every time it opened, waiting for you.

Kate patted you on the back, and headed off to where Yelena would be.

Lucky her, she would spend the night with her girlfriend, while you were anticipating to drown in your own tears before falling asleep, knowing that you had ruined any chance with the first person who had set a warming fire in your heart, now a conflagration of despair and yearning.

With every step you took her way, your legs felt like they might give out beneath you, but you forced yourself to keep moving, closing the distance between you and Wanda.

"Wanda", you greeted her and nodded in acknowledgement of the person she was talking to. You recognized him immediately from the old pictures rummaging online of Wanda and her ex-partner. Despite his imposing figure, he was just a blurry silhouette that you didn't bother to focus on until you had him in front of you. "Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/N).”

"Ah, (Y/N)," he exclaimed with a smile. "I'm Vision, Tommy and Billy's father. I'm pleased you could make it. The boys are over there at the middle table."

"That's a good idea," Wanda said. "Why don't you go with Billy? I'm sure you have a lot to discuss."

You tried to resist rolling your eyes at her sarcastic statement.

"I would prefer to speak with you first," you replied, failing to maintain eye contact with her, still appearing like a nervous lamb.

"I will consider it, after you do what I asked," she replied, turning her attention back to Vision as a way to cut conversation. The latter appeared perplexed, but perhaps Wanda would prefer to avoid the situation or lie about it, which you thanked.

Your steps towards Billy's table felt lighter, which indicated that you were far more concerned about exchanging a simple greeting with Wanda than you were about confessing to Billy that your feelings were for his mother and not him. Once again, it was evident that you cared about her more than you ever did for Billy.

"(Y/N)! Hey!" Billy greeted you with a smile, moving quickly to embrace you. "Oh, I missed you so much. What happened? My mom said you and her had an argument, but never specified why, and always gets pissed off when I ask her."

You reciprocated the embrace, unconsciously offering an apology in advance for what were going to be your next words.

"Hi," you replied, giving him a light touch on the back. “Uhm, that’s true, actually, that’s why I’m—"

"Hi, you," Tommy approached you before you could reply, and offered you a less invasive hug than his brother’s. "You know? I recently saw the infamous Kate Bishop,” he chuckled.

You joined him in laughter, appreciating his presence as a source of comfort. This brief conversation felt like a stop to the train of thought that was threatening to run over you.

"If you would like, I can arrange an introduction," you offered him, shrugging briefly. "Not with that intention, of course, but you would gain a friend. A great one."

"I'm game for new friends, always," he agreed, taking a sip of his beverage. You proceeded to walk with Tommy following you, and you noticed that Billy was completely ignored by both of you, being left behind sitting at the table by himself.

What if, during the lively twenty-minute conversation between you, Tommy, Kate, and Yelena, you had taken just half a minute to ask him to join? Everything would have been different.

"Excuse me," your smile faded and your voice trembled when your gaze fell on Billy. He had the letter in his hands and all the photographs scattered all over the table.

You had left your hand purse on there, and it was inevitable that Billy would be so curious to look through it.

A lump formed in your throat as you watched helplessly as he examined the contents of the letter with increasing astonishment.

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest when you realized that he had discovered your deepest secret, and you no longer had a chance to find a way to reveal it in the less hurtful way that could ever occur to you. That possibility slipped like sand through your fingers.

You rushed towards the table. Every step you took felt like torture. As if you were running a ten-kilometer marathon instead of crossing a few metres.

“Billy…” you breathed, a whisper so barely audible that you hoped it would vanish in the air before the inevitable storm swept through.

His fingers trembled on the vertical edges of the piece of paper, now mostly crumbled by the force with which he held it.

Billy Maximoff had always lived in the shadow of his mother’s fame and his twin brother's effortless charm. In that dim corner, he was often overlooked.

Therefore, when he saw your letter, where you expressed regret for using Billy to reach his mother, but admitted you felt no remorse for how her lips had kissed yours with such fervor that night after the bonfire, it struck him like a frigid, merciless wave crashing over him, leaving him breathless and reeling.

A guttural, angry growl erupted from his throat, resonating with such intensity that it caught the attention of everyone present, including Wanda.

Subsequently, he threw the photographs all over the floor, scattering them like autumn leaves blown by a tempest.

His eyes, once filled with affection, now burned with betrayal as they landed on you. However, what caused an icy tendril of fear to coil around your stomach was those sacred photographs, completely exposed for others to see.

You took a step to retrieve the photographs, but a firm hand clasped around your arm, making you gasp in protest, but overall, disbelief. His grip was a desperate, silent warning for you to confront the shattered trust before you, instead of safeguarding your own dignity.

"How could you do this to me?" He questioned. He breathed heavily, each choppy exhale escaping through trembling lips. His brows furrowed in anguish, adorned the torment in his glassy eyes.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. All you could do was stand there, frozen, as now Billy's eyes were just one of the many pairs that fixated on you.

"Answer me!" Billy’s voice echoed through the room.

"I'm so sorry, Billy," you whispered, but the words felt shallow and inadequate.

Wanda's eyes bore into you from across the room, her expression unreadable, yet you knew she was waiting for the fallout.

Billy shook his head, as he laughed sarcastically.

“’Sorry’? Really?” His voice climbed in pitch, raw with fury. “You used me. You lied to me. And for what? To get close to my mom? MY MOM! HOW FUCKING SICK IS THAT?”

You turned around, your gaze sweeping over the room, and the collective shock on everyone’s faces nearly made you crumble right there.

But before you could fully grasp the gravity of their reactions, Billy grabbed your face with a tight grip, and pulled you closer, forcing you to look back at him, demanding your full attention.

“Look at me,” he rasped, his voice breaking with pain. “This is about the pain you caused me, not them.”

Kate, who had been watching every moment with a readiness to intervene and protect you if necessary, rushed to you both in alarm as soon as Billy’s hands gripped your face so violently.

With a sudden, forceful motion, she wrenched Billy’s hands away from you.

“You're fucking done, you hear me, asshole?” Kate hissed, towering over him as she created a protective barrier between you and Billy.

The latter whimpered in pain, a sound that spurred Wanda into action, her own distress evident as she rushed forward.

“That's enough!” Wanda exclaimed, a red wisp of magic surrounding Kate's hand and Billy's wrist in order to prevent her to cause him more pain. In consequence, Kate clenched her jaw in defeat, for she knew better than to defy someone as powerful as Wanda Maximoff.

You didn’t even notice when Natasha Romanoff appeared at your side, wrapping her arm around you with a firm, yet gentle hold.

“You’ve explained yourself,” the redhead said softly, her voice felt like the calm amidst the storm. “Let him handle the truth on his own. Let’s go…”

You were about to comply, the pull of Natasha's presence giving you the courage to leave everything behind for good.

But Billy’s last, scathing remark stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh, great! So now Mommy’s going to fix everything for me?” He snapped. “Isn’t that just perfect? Always stepping in to save the day while I get to deal with the mess you made!”

Her eyes widened in a heart-shattering mixture of confusion and sorrow. Her features altogether conformed what could be best described as the ultimate portrait of devastation.

No wonder. The sole purpose of forcing you to confess your mistakes to Billy was so you could face the consequences, and leavr you with a heavy conscience, never once imagining that she would be cast as a villain in her own son’s eyes.

And even though Wanda blatantly defended her son against your best friend —who was, in turn, protecting you from Billy’s wrath—, you couldn’t fight against the sympathy at such a heartache.

"Billy, I consider you a very dear friend, and I never meant to hurt you," you spoke up, stepping next to Wanda, implicitly offering her your inconditional support. “But my feelings for Wanda... they were never meant to deceive or harm you. I understand if you can't forgive me, but please know that it’s not her fault.”

"I think it's best if we all take a moment to breathe," Vision interjected calmly, stepping forward. "Emotions are high right now, and we need clarity to understand each other." His calm voice stood out against the atmosphere around you.

You knew that he and Wanda had drifted apart due to the demands of their lives; his Avenger missions and her career had led them in different directions. Their breakup was friendly, a mutual recognition that their paths no longer matched. Still, it was impressive how Vision maintained his composure, given the situation's nature.

Wanda nodded in agreement.

"Billy, let's talk privately. This isn't something we should handle in front of everyone."

“Oh, yes, that’s because you don’t want your superhero friends to know how you kissed (Y/N) right after I went to sleep that night, isn't that right?” He scoffed.

Although you didn't turn to check everyone's reaction, you could perfectly picture the shock once more evident on their faces, now at the possibility that maybe Wanda felt the same.

But unlike last time, where everyone decided to remain silent and play dumb, Tony spoke up from the table, “So what, kid? Good for them, now move the fuck on,” he groaned, his voice dripping with irritation that his friendly reunion had turned into a whole drama show.

“I did it to force her to confess,” Wanda justified. “And to punish her for hurting you.”

Billy’s gaze was skeptical, as he raised his eyebrow in disbelief. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t feel anything when you did that.”

Wanda’s resolve fell apart at that very question. Her eyes flickered away from his intense stare, enough to confirm what Billy had feared all along.

You were overpowered by a bliss so intense it seemed to permeate every fiber of your being, immediately making you forget the pain and despair that took place these last months.

“See?” Billy’s voice rose. “I wanted a chance to be happy, to be seen for once, and you took that away from me," he choked out, his voice breaking.

“Oh, Billy, I can’t take away what you didn’t have in the first place,” she scoffed. Her sadness was now replaced by a fierce anger.

She always felt exasperated at how her son had consistently drowned himself in self-pity, ever since he made the decision to age-skip. This wasn't the first time he manipulated every situation to fit his narrative. And this was the last straw for her.

“Ohhh, you think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you?” He spat, stepping close to her. “DON'T YOU?” And in a sudden outburst, Billy shoved Wanda with a force that sent her crashing to the floor.

The room gasped collectively at his gesture, and that was when everyone decided to take action instead of just being mere expectants.

You dropped to your knees, feeling both worried and enraged. The intensity of your indignation seemed to be making the ground beneath you tremble.

How could Billy not recognize the suffering he was causing to his own mother? Why was his need for validation bigger than his capacity to rationalize?

Tommy Maximoff: Yelena and I watched everything escalate so quickly, and we agreed not to get involved if we didn't have to. My father, Natasha and Kate were alert, and my mother has dealt with a thousand times worse than some whiny college boy (pauses) but seeing how that idiot pushed my mother, and wanted to degrade her like that?! All of a sudden, my fist collided with his face.

Tony Stark: Looking back, maybe this whole scene could have made a good dramatic painting (chuckles). I mean... Yelena, Kate, Natasha and this photographer girl giving moral support to Wanda at a table in the corner, while she allowed her son to get his comeuppance for being such a brat. Meanwhile, Tommy hitting Billy so hard it took Vision, Clint and I to separate them.

Tommy Maximoff: Even I'm shocked at the fact that it took my father, Hawkeye, and Iron Man to separate me from him. I guess I had a lot of pent up anger, and that moment was my breaking point.

Wanda Maximoff: Why did I allow it? The answer is simple; I gave up and even made the person I loved suffer in order to give my son his place. And what did he do? He made showed me in every way possible that I was a disgrace to him for the simple fact of having given birth to him. Well, if that's the case, good riddance.

Pepper Potts: Oh, what I'm missing by accompanying Peter (Parker) to a debate in Germany (laughs).

Vision: After the incident, Billy has not contacted us again. He thinks he's an outlaw, and we'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I'll just say that at least he is managing to make a name out of himself like he so badly wanted.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N): I hope he's going to therapy!

Wanda Maximoff: What did (Y/N) and I do after it all ended? We went to my room, at the Compound, and… I’ll keep the rest to myself.

"Please, I'll be a good girl," you whimpered, looking up at her with trembling lips and pleading eyes.

She had you kneeling between her legs as she sat on the edge of her bed. You couldn't handle all the torturing teasing she was putting you through, as she smacked her faux cock against your lips, and every time you tried to welcome it into your mouth, she pulled it back, only to repeat the process again.

"Oh, you already are," Wanda breathed, leaning very close to your lips that you could feel the lingering smell of wine on her breath. "But Mommy wants more than just a good girl. She wants a naughty little slut who does anything to please her.”

Before you could moan in response at the nickname she gave herself, she attacked your mouth in an aggressive kiss. At this point, your jaw was sore from so much movement and your lips were swollen, but you wouldn't have it any other way. You had found home on her lips once and you were finally back.

"I’ll make you feel good, I promise, just let me," you pleaded, your mouth watering due all the panting from the anticipation.

She gave in to the sight of those puppy eyes, swollen lips, and that upper body covered in hickies. Soon enough, she gently guided your head towards her strap, her hands resting on either side of your head.

“Suck on me. Show me what you're made of.”

Her breathing quickened as your mouth worked its way down her cock. Her hips began to rock, seeking more contact. It was evident that with very little stimulation, she let her guard down, no longer caring to hide how weak she truly was for you.

You gagged at the intrusion but took it as best as you could, even though your eyes were beginning to water.

Just like the merciless woman she has demonstrated you she was, far from going easy on you, she gripped the back of your head, holding you in place.

Whatever the reason, the coil forming on her stomach overwhelmed her, and before she could even notice, the intense wave of pleasure caused her to spurt her hot cum into your mouth, leaving her breathless and trembling.

Perhaps it was because it had been an incredibly long time since she had allowed herself to attend to her carnal needs, or perhaps it was because she found herself utterly and irresistibly attracted to you, or maybe it was a combination of both.

"Oh fuck," she groaned, riding herself out of her orgasm, giving you little to no participation. Simply using you as a face to get off to.

You did your best to swallow every single drop she gave you, however a few drops trailed on your chin, and a little bit down on your neck.

Wanda was different nevertheless. She seemed genuinely proud, filled with a warmth and admiration that made you feel truly seen and appreciated for the very first time.

Wanda grinned in satisfaction as she looked down at you.

None of your partners or hookups have ever taken the time to simply gaze down at you with anything more than burning desire. They always seemed to be in a rush, their eyes filled with nothing but lust and impatience.

"Good girl," she said, reaching out to wipe her cum off with her thumb. She then stuck it into your mouth, and watched you suck it clean. “And you know what good girls deserve after such a delicious treat?"

"What, Mommy?" You asked excitedly.

"Their reward," Wanda purred, leaning down to kiss you passionately while her fingers trailed down your neck, and gripped it gently. "My little cum-slut deserves some good fucking.”

Wanda gave a quick beckon, motioning for you to get on your feet. You had barely stood up completely, when she gripped your hips tightly with her strong hands and forced you under her. Her superhuman force made you so featherlight in comparison to her, allowing her to have complete control over your movements, leaving no doubt about who was in charge in that moment.

The tip of her cock gently brushed against your entrance making you both shiver at the mere thought of what was about to happen.

She slowly thrust her hips forward, slowly penetrating you with her strap.

You shut your eyes tight in response, gasping at how exquisite but painful it was to have your tiny hole stuffed by her massive cock.

"There, you're doing well, baby,'" she said, caressing your cheek as a display of encouragement. “Do you need to stop?” She asked attentively.

You shook your head in refusal, choosing instead to grasp her shoulders firmly, seeking something to anchor yourself to. The harshness of your touch brought a smile to her face, lighting up her eyes with a spark of joy at your silent approval.

She slowly picked up the pace, thrusting deeper and harder into you.

The slapping of your bodies, the headboard clashing against the wall, and your mutual panting and moaning were the only sounds echoing through Wanda’s spacious room at the compound.

Your eyes squeezed shut, a chaotic blend of screams and moans escaping your lips as you dangerously hung on the edge of tears.

She looked down at you, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, her eyes shimmering with delight as you writhed beneath her.

"That's it," her hips slammed against yours with a fierce intensity. In response, she could feel your nails digging into her back, leaving angry red marks that would soon blossom into bleeding scratches.

"Fuck... FUCK! I'm gonna cum! I need to cum," you screamed, not fighting against the tears any longer.

"Cum for me, darling," she accentuated each worth with a single thrust. One of her hands reached between your legs, roughly massaging your clit with her thumb, determined to tear you apart through every single nerve ending that could occur to her.

You screamed loudly, your walls squeezing her cock as you came hard. She could feel your juices flowing down her bedsheets, coating them in a warm sheen. Her seed didn't take much longer to fill you up, pushing against you as it spilled into every crevice of your pussy.

As her orgasm subsided, Wanda slowly pulled out of you, her dick slipping wetly from your hole.

"Fuck, I wish you could see yourself right now," she whispered, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Just then, an idea sparked in her mind. "Stay right there," she commanded, climbing off you.

You watched, breathless, as she stood up, her strap glistening and even dripping with both of your releases.

She opened a drawer and retrieved a Polaroid camera.

"What? You're not the only one who owns one,” she stated, a playful smirk on her lips as she gauged at your surprised expression.

She lay on her stomach, the camera positioned between your pussy and her face. With a playful grin, she snapped a picture, capturing the sight of your hole still dripping with your shared juices. The blinding flash it possessed would illuminate every detail and highlight the intensity of what you both had just experienced.

She slid a single finger inside you, provoking your walls to swallow her without hesitation once more, making you arch your back in response to the pleasure coursing through you.

She couldn't resist taking another picture, the mesmerizing sight too beautiful to pass up.

She growled in desperate need, setting the camera aside as she flipped you on all fours, her eyes glinting with desire as she admired the view you presented. She as well switched her position, this time beneath you, guiding you to lower yourself onto her face.

As you settled in, she slipped two fingers inside you, curling them in a come-hither motion that provoked you to grip her hair desperately, the headboard being too far away for you to hold onto it.

However, she continued her ministrations, seemingly unbothered and even excited by your aggressive treatment.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you weren't even able to make a single sound as your breath cut down in your throat. You felt a tightness in your chest, and each second seemed to stretch into an eternity. All you could focus on was the intense feeling restricting your ability to breathe.

"S-s-stop! STOP!" She knew from your irregular breath and whimpering what was about to happen.

She would happily embrace whatever reaction you would have. However she wanted to teach you that you didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about, not through reassuring words but through desperation.

Therefore, she slowed down her fingers, upom hearing your warning. She took her fingers out of you, pulling her hand out and slapping your ass.

“Are you sure, slut?” She asked.

"Fuck... no," you exclaimed, the feeling of your walls clenching at the lack of her fingers was too unbearable to handle.

She chuckled and moved back to your entrance, finger fucking you senseless with a slow but hard pace.

To her dislike, she eventually noticed that you were holding back again, and her irritation increased. She wanted you to let go, to embrace the experience fully, and she was ready to do whatever it took to guide you there.

"Baby, if you don't cum right now, I'm going to spank you so hard you won't be able to walk for a month," Wanda threatened. She reached around and pinched your clit, making you gasp as she continued fucking you.

“Mmm, here it comes,” you warned her, a whimper escaping from your lips as you prepared to unleash the inevitable.

With a dramatic flourish, you tilted your head back, watching as your squirt arced out of your cunt like a shimmering comet, a cascade of droplets splashing across Wanda's face, not leaving an inch unsoaked.

You took a few deep breaths, defeatedly laying on your back next to her, leaving your tits and stomach on her sight, as well as your well-fucked pussy.

And as if you were made of the most fragile crystal, she pulled the bedsheets from under you, enveloping both of you under the warmth of her bedsheets.

The sudden shift of treatment caught you off guard, and before you knew it, she had you pulled back against her chest, the sweat of her body mixing with yours.

You could hear her rapid heartbeat. It was both comforting and electrifying, grounding your once racing heart into finding its rhythm again.

"I've got you, little one," she whispered softly in your ear. “I'm not letting you go, ever again,” she vowed, leaving open mouthed kisses on your forehead.

And she held onto that promise. Forever.

The next day, the soft rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, emanating a warm glow in the room.

You stirred awake to the gentle sensation of little kisses peppering your face. The older woman beside you, with her playful affection, made you wrinkle your nose in that adorable way that never failed to make her smile.

"How are you feeling, love?" She asked softly, her concern for you palpable both in her tone and expression.

"Wonderful," you replied, stretching your limbs with a lazy grace. You leaned in and pressed your lips against hers. "And you? Did you sleep well?"

"As I’ve ever slept in my life," she confirmed, her eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and something deeper. "I want to shout to the rooftops how much I love you, how profoundly you mean to me."

Wanda loved you. Truly, deeply loved you.

What had transpired the night before was not merely a release of carnal desires; it was an intimate, powerful affirmation of connection, a way of claiming you as hers.

"I love you more," you replied, your heart threatening to come out of your chest, as it was not yet used to this level of bliss.

You pressed another kiss to her lips, pouring every ounce of your feelings into that simple peck.

"I have faith in us, in all of this," she said, her voice determined yet filled with vulnerability. "After everything that happened, would you give me a chance?" You could see the sincerity in her eyes, the longing for a future together.

"Absolutely, my darling," you reached out, taking her hand in yours reassuringly. Two souls intertwining like an ivy growing over a sturdy stone.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wandavision #marvel

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peachigummi · 5 months ago

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test my luck ꢾ꣒ mattheo riddle.

summary: enemy to lovers! Mattheo and y/n have been each other's biggest haters since year 1, they're in their final year at Hogwarts. Mattheo finally pushes y/n to the edge, with his venomous words and guilt tactics.

pairing: enemy! mattheo x fem ravenclaw! reader

warnings: not for the faint of heart! mature themes/language. mentions of abuse. slow burn? bullying angst!! oh my god angst, but ends with some bittersweet fluff I promise! attempted suicide sorry (after reading this back, i dont mean it to be manipulation or to glorify or romanticize but! shit!! for a plot?)

note: i haven't written anything in literal years, the pov is going to shift a lot so bear with me. i honestly just lost any sense of motivation. but something in me just bloomed. you wont see any hp things on this blog it is my journal and i feel like sharing! maybe a part 2 in the making. if this gets enough response.

word count: 6,828

(slightly not really proofread or fan fact checked? if that's a thing ha)

playlist: should i create..? you know damn well the smiths would be in it! like Bigmouth Strikes Again?? that is mattheo!

reblogs & comments are so appreciated! i hope you enjoy <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was the start of your last year of Hogwarts, it was an okay time. You personally didn’t get into too much trouble, you liked to stick by yourself for the most part. You studied hard because your muggle parents were still confused about you being a witch, and what you would get out of it. It was hard to process that information, it was a thing of fairy tales. You had to prove yourself in this new world. That…that was hard when you were constantly looking over your shoulder for Mattheo Riddle.

“What’s a whore doing in my seat?” Speak of the damn devil.

You turned to look at him with a sarcastic smile, “Well hello to you too Mattheo.” You nod at the three other boys that were with him, each of their arms crossed. “Draco. Blaise. Theodore.” You return to look at Mattheo, “you know last time I checked… there are no assigned seats in Potions.” You looked around and the class was still fairly empty.

“Think again and think hard.” Mattheo spoke to you in a cold shallow tone, he barely looked at you. He circled around the table you were at, your eyes following him. He suddenly stopped right behind your chair, yanking it back. There was a loud scrape, the few students that were in the room turned to look at the scene unfolding. You didn’t meet any of their eyes. Mattheo slammed his hand on the side of the table, making you flinch. You hated that you reacted that way. He grabbed the back of your ponytail, forcing your head forward where his hand was, “Look.” M. Riddle. D. Malfoy. B. Zabini. T. Nott. Their names were carved into the side. You grabbed Mattheo’s hand, the one that was still holding onto your ponytail, you tried to pry his icy cold fingers off. It only made him tighten his grip, he bent down to get close to your face, “I suggest you move unless you want me to carve my name onto your face as well.” he spat and finally let go.

“Whatever,” you gathered your books, “this seat sucks anyways. I’ll go hang out with Professor Snape up front.” You rolled your eyes as Draco lit up a cigarette, handing the pack to the boys to share. If you’re going to try and get away with smoking, yeah do it in the back of the class I guess.

“You really like being a teacher’s pet don’t you? That’s why you’ve always got your nose up Snape’s ass.”

“Seriously fuck off! Go continue to lose brain cells with your sorry excuse of friends.” You push the seat back and let it topple over. You mentally slapped yourself, you shouldn’t be feeding into his remarks.

“That’s cute sunshine, I’ll bet you have a hard time standing up for yourself in every aspect of your pathetic life. Do better.” Mattheo smugly said, smoking the cigarette that was in his hand.

You opened your mouth to speak but decided against it, you ended up just flipping him off. He did the same, giving you an annoyed look. You took the seat next to Hermione in the front of the class. Ugh! That Mattheo. “Are you okay?!” She asked, shooting daggers at the group, turning to you again “How can you put up with that? We have to tell someone..” you shook my head and whispered, “it’ll only make things worse. I don’t want to be a snitch. It’s already been six years anyways… how can one more year really change things.”

Blaise laughed, “you like that don’t you mattheo? Isn’t she so cute when she’s angry, you like feisty girls, yeah?”

Draco chuckles, “oh he definitely does, too bad she’s a stupid bitch.” The group laughs together.

You could hear them hollering from the back. You tried to calm yourself down and pay attention to the different measurements of the potions you were being taught. Maybe I could switch this class to a different time. You thought, focusing back to the lesson when Professor Snape mentioned something about needing to be in groups of three for an upcoming project.

Before Snape could assign anyone, Mattheo spoke up, “Sir I’d like to work with Theodore, if that’s permitted.” Snape looked annoyed by his interjection but answered, “No, Theodore will be with Y/N and Draco. Nothing will change. I already made the groups, they will be posted near the storeroom.” He gave Mattheo a dirty look.

You could hear Draco scoff but he didn't say anything. Yet. He kept to himself and his buddies while they continued to smoke and do other things to piss Professor Snape off before the class was finally dismissed. I guess I didn’t need to worry about being in a pair with Mattheo. You still wanted to protest against the group choice, but nothing would come of it. You knew better than to go against Snape’s final word. Theodore wasn’t such a horrible person, he actually can be pretty smart and helpful, if you got him alone. Otherwise when he was with even just one of his buddies, he was just like them - a jerk. It was Draco you won’t be able to stand.

“Don't do anything stupid, Y/L/N, and we might actually do okay in this project.” That was Draco himself, walking over with Theodore.

You ignored his comment, “where should we meet and when?”

“We can use one of the abandoned classrooms. Before the lunch break?” Theodore suggested, handing a note with directions.

“Okay. See you.” You said as bluntly as possible, gathering your book. You went to grab the ingredients your group might need.

“Teachers pet!” Draco yelled after.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Of course you were the first to the abandoned classroom, you had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes before either of them showed. When they did, they didn’t bother to apologize, though you didn’t expect them to. Even with smart comments from both boys, you finished discussing the project and the presentation at a decent hour. It was quiet as you started to collect your things, Draco excused himself earlier to collect a package.

“Y/N, why is it that you hate Mattheo so much?” Theodore broke the silence, carefully watching you wrap the vials carefully. You paused, taken back. “He’s been trying to get a rise out of you since day 1, why?” He continued nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

You quickly grab them out of his hand and put it in your own breast pocket, “don’t smoke around me.”

This made him annoyed, “Hey! I need those! They keep me calm!”

“No you don't, you've been fine this entire time without them. I’m not trying to raise your blood pressure right now. You’re fine.” You give him a good look, maybe he was playing dumb. How could he not know? Theodore and Mattheo were best friends; they must have already talked about this, “I only hate Mattheo because he hates me. It’s all there's to it…” I think.

He lingers for a moment after you answered him, there is something else you haven’t said, “tell me what you think. There’s always some deeper reason for this sort of stuff” He rested his chin on his hand. See this is why I favored Theodore from the rest of his group, but should I still trust him? He could use this information against me. I took the chance.

“Over the years I suspected it was just plainly because I was a mudblood and not some perfect pure-bred like you folk.” You continued to wrap the vials carefully.

Theodore rolled his eyes, “He does have a thing against people with different backgrounds than his own. He thinks everyone in this school should be from a wizarding family. But that’s not the case with you.” He grabbed a vial too, helping me wrap them, “He’s never said anything about your parents or how they’re muggles.” Mattheo would talk about me when I wasn’t around? Why would he do that? You looked into his eyes searching for some joke or underlying lie. There was none I could detect.

You recall the moment aloud when you first laid your eyes on Mattheo, “It was at the train station. Our first year. I remember hugging and kissing my parents goodbye, not wanting to let go of them. I turned around to go on the train and there was a much much smaller Mattheo staring at me with wide beady little eyes that were glossed over with tears. He was cute in that split second - ” You couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Theodore watched you carefully. You straightened your lips, continuing, “ - before he stuck a solid wad of gum in my hair.”

Theodore bellowed, nearly falling backwards in his chair, “Yeah that sounds like him, that’s a classic stunt he’d pull off. There was this one time in year 5 when he stuck gum on the chair of one of the professors before class…I never saw her so mad after she sat down and got up, her chair nearly followed her around!” He tried to settle himself down, “Mattheo always had a thing for doing stuff to people and acting as if it’s all a joke.”

“It’s not a joke when you have to cut your hair super short in order to remove the gum. I felt so naked without my long hair, it was so beautiful! And he made it worse when he made a point to show how ugly I was to everyone in the Great Hall. I even remember you laughing just like you are now.” You pushed his shoulder.

Theodore smirked, “yeah we all laughed, how couldn’t we?! You looked ridiculous before you grew it back out. We used to call you Baldy McEgg-head. You’d get so mad, only making us laugh harder.” At least someone cherished the memory. You rolled your eyes.

It grew quiet again, “have you ever met Mattheo’s parents? Has he ever talked to you about them?”

“No. I’ve never met them. He’s never really talked about his parents or his life outside Hogwarts. I don’t think he’s on great terms with his dad. He always stayed with them during the breaks, and wasn't ever allowed to spend it with us or here at hogwarts. He missed out on a lot of important hang outs. I wished he was there for them” Theodore explained, he sounded disappointed and angry.

“Do…do you think he’s jealous of my home life? The affection I was receiving in front of him at the train station…”

He thinks for a moment, “I suppose it could be a possibility…hard to tell. He doesn’t allow himself to show too much emotion, again, probably has to do with the way he must have been raised.”

You wanted to do more research into Mattheo’s family…but how? “Thanks for this Teddy. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” You finished packing everything into your bag. Before you left you tossed him back his pack of cigarettes, “see you later.”

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

You let out a sigh of relief, to be alone once again. Mettheo Riddle, what secrets do you hide? You made your way to the library instead of the Great Hall. After a few hours of searching around the library, you finally find a section of massive thick old leather bound books. You blew on the covers, these books contained a record of all the wizards and witches that had attended Hogwarts. Kind of like a yearbook, but it told you what came of them. Who married who, what did they end up doing after Hogwarts, etc. a rare but quite the gem of a find. “R… R.. R” you whispered, touching the book ends. You look at the bottom of the bookshelf finding the one that contained the last names that began with R. You found it, and you began to look through for the name “Riddle.”

Just as you got to the last name, you felt a wave of shame. You were snooping into somebody’s life. Their history. This is wrong. If Mattheo wanted to talk about his home life, surely he would have. He was hiding something. There were heavy slow footsteps coming around the corner of the aisle. You snapped the book shut holding it behind you and you looked at the section opposite of where you just were. Mattheo, they were his steps, you could tell.

“Of course you’d be in the library doing nerd stuff.” He doesn��t sound happy, but also when is he truly ever?

You looked at him then around yourself, “who me? A nerd for being in the library?” I mean he wasn’t wrong but ..yeah. You still point at him, “Where are you then? Because it seems to be you’re also in the library with…” you fake gasp, “...Me! Making you a nerd too!” You hoped that confused him, you shifted the leather book behind your back. It was getting heavy by the second.

“I’m ditching classes to smoke,” He takes a rip of a cigarette that was nearly at its end, he blows the smoke in your face. “Nerd.”

“Whoop-dee-doo what a stellar insult Mettheo. I’m a ravenclaw. What did you expect? I’d rather be a nerd than a-” You took a step closer to him squinting then widening your eyes in horror, “oh my god Mattheo did you lose a tooth from all that smoking?” He quickly shoved his pinky into his mouth feeling his teeth in a panic. If there was one thing he cared more about than cigarettes it was keeping up with his good looks. Uh did I just describe him as good looking?

He actually laughed once he finished counting his teeth, “They’re perfectly fine. I care about taking care of myself, unlike you. How often do you wash yourself? I doubt you even brush your hair. I did you a favor when you had to cut it off. You have no sense of style, even with a selection of uniforms! Why do you dress like it’s winter all year? You dress like a peasant from the 1820’s”

Okay ouch, that kinda hurt. You’ve been insecure with your body, you always struggled with that. Dressing in sweaters helped hide it. You didn’t know how to respond, maybe he's right. You couldn’t stand up for yourself to save your life. You just shoved his shoulder with your own and walked past him.

Matthew continues to follow you, “did you just shove me you twat?” He snatched the book out of my arms holding it a ways away from you, “If you’re going to do sneaky shit, don’t do it so obviously. Is this a diary or something?” Your eyes widened trying to take it back, but he held it up high above his head easily with one hand.

“Yes! It’s my diary, it’s where I gush about the god almighty perfect Mattheo!” I sarcastically said, still hoping he wouldn’t look at the title of the book. “No stupid! I dont have one, I just got done working on the potions project with your buddies. Hand me back the book.”

“Oh I bet you three had lots of fun. Did you talk about me while you were there? Did you talk about how you can’t take your eyes and mind off of me? You’re clearly obsessed, following me around like a love sick puppy. You pop up wherever I happen to be.”

“Ew no never.” You fought your expression back, did Theodore tell him something? Fuck. “Draco left, it was just Teddy and I. we spent it kissing the whole time. Super carefree. His lips surprisingly didn't taste like cigarettes, they were pretty sweet.”

Mattheo’s smug smirk fades even before you finish your sentence. He hated how you used a nickname for his friend. He despised the thought of you kissing anyone, especially his mates, “fucking liar. THEODORE, not TEDDY, doesn’t like you. He just tolerates you because he has to. He wouldn’t be caught dead kissing you. You’re disgusting and I pity anyone who has the displeasure of touching you in any way other than to harm you.

You hold your hands up, “woah woah woah, whatever makes you sleep peacefully at night. Why else did Teddy take me to an abandoned classroom, it was our chance to get away together especially after Draco conveniently left.” You couldn’t believe you were lying through your teeth, this would forsure come back and bite you in the ass even harder. You haven’t even had your first kiss yet. You haven't even been romantically linked with anyone before.

“Stop fucking calling him Teddy, it’s Theodore!”

“Can you guys get a room or SHUT UP! For Merlin’s Sake” A random student yelled out at us. Slamming their hand on the table. You were embarrassed because you took pride in keeping the library a sacred place to study or relax.

“Piss off. Go find a room of your own instead of listening to us talking. You must be a first year, if you’re still so sensitive to other’s voices in the library.” He continued to raise his voice, “We’ve been like this for years! Blah blah blah!!”

“Stop it Mattheo.” You shove him again, mouthing to the student, I'm very sorry. With the distraction you go and grab the book in Mattheo’s hand but he quickly readjusts his grip.

“You don’t have to apologize for me, sunshine. You should apologize to him for your existence, do everyone a favor will you?” He finally looked down at the title of the book, Who Were They and Where They Now?: Hogwarts. He carefully used a single finger to pry it open to where the fabric bookmark was, immediately seeing his own surname. He gives a manic laugh looking up at your face and slamming the book down to the floor, “you stalker. You are obsessed with me.”

He lunged at you. You took a step back, you hit the shelving. Your heart was beating so fast you thought you would pass out from the red handed guilt.

“What kind of information were you looking to find huh?” He pointed a finger at me, his eyes ice cold. Looking to murder. Your head suddenly hurt, there was a high pitched ringing that wouldn't stop. You went to cover your ears to find some relief but Mattheo grabbed you and shook hard, “what the FUCK did you think you would find? Tell me. Tell me NOW!” You didn’t know what to say he just stared hard at you, his nails digging into your arms. You winced. He began to speak fast and harshly as if he knew, as if you had said something.

“Did you really expect you would find out that I had a happy home? Do you think I’m happy being born in some dingy hovel? Do you think I'm overjoyed to be related to and be abused by my father? He beat me black and blue and hated my existence. My mother just sat there silently watching. She doesn’t care. Would YOU be thrilled knowing that you came from a long line of dark wizards who’ve caused pain and suffering to people for centuries.”

You began to cry, “Mattheo..”

“You honestly think I would be so proud of that to tell everyone?” He scoffed.

“Mattheo you’re hurting me…”

“I. Don’t. Care.” His deep brown eyes didn’t leave yours, “you should have minded your own business. Stupid girl prying into my history. What do you care? Did you think I'd be less of a jerk to you if I had a perfect loving family like yours? ”

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry! I .. I.”

“Shut up. You don't get to speak. I don't need you feeling sorry for me, I can handle myself. This is probably the worst you’ll ever experience.”

“Y-You’re right. I’m.. I’m grateful I never had to e-endure that” You were one stuttering mess.

He moves one hand to cup your mouth to shut you up again, “what did i say. I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth.” He rose the other up threateningly.

You closed your eyes. Do it Mattheo. Please. I deserve it. I’m sorry I tried to pry. Do it. He was surprised by your offer and looked at you in confusion, his expression didn’t change though. “What kind of sick request is that?” You open your eyes again to meet his. Both of you were in disbelief, did he just-? “Why would you want me to beat you? Because you feel bad for me? I don’t want nor need your sympathy. Trying to act like a saint that's willing to be my punching bag whenever I want.” he scoffed, letting your mouth free, taking a single step back away from you.

“Then why are you so mean to me? Tell me that. When I first laid eyes on you during our first year at the train platform, I thought we would be friends.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing where his fingers had dug into you.

“You’re a prissy annoying know-it-all goody two shoes that thinks she’s better than everyone. You can’t help but chime in whenever you have the chance and show off.”

“So it’s just my existence then huh, nothing else to it?” You felt your own anger finally rise, you wiped your tears off your cheek trying to regain composure.

“Pretty much. You’re unbearable. You are the most unexciting thing I’ve ever encountered.”

“Let me fix that for you.” Your eyes betrayed you and let the gates open, the flood starting to spill once more. Before Mattheo could get another hold of you you quickly shuffled off, dropping your things. Already feeling limp. Just hoping your legs would carry you a bit more.

Mattheo rolls his eyes, “tsk so stupid.” He stood there staring at the place you once were. Thinking about what occurred when he processed what you said, “Y/N! Hey I-..” He began to follow in the direction you went off to.

Your shuffle turned into a run, you just needed privacy. Anything. Your dorm was too far away, so you went into the nearest girls bathroom and into the furthest stall to sob.

Mattheo reaches the hallway, looking to his left and right. Fuck where did she go? He closes his eyes to listen closely. He heard something faint and went with his gut.

You sat down beside the toilet, hitting your head with your fist. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” You heard a familiar giggle, “go away Myrtle. Now’s especially not the time.”

Bathroom, you had to be in the bathroom. He went inside not caring if another girl would see him, “Y/N? You’re in here, I know you are. Look, just come out will you?” Instead Moaning Myrtle came forth.

“Are you looking for me?” she bit her finger looking him up and down, “we don't get that many cute boys in here.” She sighed, still admiring him, “Nevertheless, shame on you. How could someone as delicious as you treat someone so horribly.” She laughed in his face.

“Shut up. I don't need to be lectured by some depressed ghost. Why are you even here. Go away.” He went further inside the bathroom pushing doors in, “actually have you seen a girl come in, Y/N?”

“Yes!” She said excitedly pointing to the last stall, “She’s coming with me and we’ll get to haunt together. It’ll be so fun to not be alone anymore” She broke into another high pitched laugh, clapping her hands with joy.

“What the hell is she on about?” That’s when he noticed broken glass from a mirror. His heart drops, “you’ve got to be kidding me…” He rushed over pushing the final door in, but this one wouldn’t budge. “Y/N. It’s Mattheo..” his heart drops and he pales when he notices blood start to seep out from under the door, you’ve hurt yourself. “Y/N!” He says again louder, “open the door! Open it right fucking now! Y/N!!”

You didn’t want him to see you like this, no one should have to see this. You try to hold the door closed but you were losing your strength to do anything. The blood made it slippery so your hand slid down, “M-m-mattheo haven’t..you said enough?”

Myrtle pointed to the glass, “look how eager she was! Damaging school property to break free” She did a couple spins in the air, “any minute now!”

“That’s it. I’ve had enough.” Mattheo raised his wand and shot a blast at the lock, it broke open and he flung the door open to reveal you laying on the floor. His heart seemed to stop completely. “Shit! Dammit! Y/N!”

The blast frightened you, “No. Mattheo. No.” You could only make out his dark curly haired head. You tried to swat him away before losing consciousness due to blood loss.

Professor Snape rushed in after hearing a blast, “what the bloody hell is going on in here, Mr. Riddle.”

Mattheo looked at him with an angry and panicked expression, “I need her in the infirmary right now.” He said through gritted teeth. He leans over you, grabbing a large bunch of toilet paper and quickly kneels next to you. Applying pressure on your bleeding left wrist.

Snape understood immediately, “Keep the pressure on the wrist, Riddle.” He was able to pick you up easily, but he was not enthusiastic about having your blood staining his robes, “with HASTE Riddle! Follow me!” And off they went to the infirmary. Once there Snape quickly laid you on a bed gently before Madame Pomfrey took over.

She was able to stop and clean the bleeding, while she examined the cut striation she asked both Snape and Mattheo what blood type they were, “The girls lost too much blood, she needs a transfusion.” She began to stitch the wrist, the cut was near vertical to the veins.

Mattheo in a less than a split second looked at Pomfrey, “Am I able to donate for her.” He didn’t say it as a question, he wanted it to be a command.

“As long as you share the same blood type then yes, sweetheart. Please, fresh blood is much better. We can’t wait more time, Ms. Y/L/N is so terribly pale. She can have a seizure any minute if we dont get more blood to her brain” still carefully pulling at threads. His hand was still holding yours.

He nods impatiently, less talking, more action. “I’m AB-” he gulped. One of the rarest blood types in the world, “what type is she?” he began to roll up his sleeve even before Pomfrey was able to respond.

“Goodheavens! Thank Merlin. She’s AB- as well!” She sighs looking up at the ceiling for a split second, calling for a nurse to help set up the transfusion. He took a seat on your left, watching the nurse insert a needle into each of your arms. He didn’t flinch, but he gave her a threatening look when she inserted a needle into your arm, thinking she would bring more pain to you.

Madame Pomfrey stood up, finished. “If it was with a straight razor and not a glass shard, I don’t think i would have been able to-” she let her voice die down after seeing how pale Mattheo began to look too, she shut her mouth as to not worry him more with what the other alternative was. He couldn’t hide his guilt. His eyes were alternating between your face and his blood that was slowly running into your body through a single tubing. He desperately needed it to go faster.

“Is there a chance she would wake up with problems with her veins or her nerves?” He asked.

Pomfrey patted the boy's shoulders, “Let’s hope not, let’s hope they hold. With the basics in place, there’s nothing a little magic can’t help.” This eased him, “Ms. Y/L/N wont wake for a couple of hours. She needs to be watched to make sure she doesn’t rip my stitching job or we will go back to square one my boy. Can I trust you?”

“Is that really a necessary question?” He bit his tongue, “Sorry, yes I will watch over her. I need to be here when she wakes up.”

“Best she gets a psychiatrist too, but that's a later issue to address. We’ll focus on physical healing for now.” Pomfrey looked at Mattheo curiously, isn’t this one of the trouble-making slytherin boys? She shook her head and walked out to attend to another student.

“Y/N i’m here.” He studies your face, deep with regret and guilt. He holds your right hand tightly, he whispers softly, “it’s okay, you’re going to be alright..”

“Riddle.” Snape was still watching everything from the shadows of the room, “What happened to my best student, why is he in this condition?”

“It’s my fault, Professor…I was making a fool out of myself. I was treating her like hell… it went too far. She must have had a breakdown and she-” he couldn’t bear to describe your condition out loud.

Snape held a hand up to silence him from saying more, “rather than giving you detention for the rest of your time here at Hogwarts. I will need you to attend all the girl’s classes she will be missing in her recovery. She must not fall behind.”

“Yes sir, I understand. I’ll do it.”

Snape turned to leave but came back toward the boy and yanked the cigarette box from his uniform pocket, “none of these for you either, especially as you are sharing blood with Y/N. She never liked you smoking.” and off he turned around to change his own robes from the blood.

“Anything for you.” he whispered towards you, “please wake up soon.”

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

You began to stir, your eyes fluttering open. You looked around in a panic. You were incredibly sore, especially your left wrist. It stung badly. Mattheo had fallen asleep in the chair when he jolted awake to the sound of your movements, “Calm down, relax, you’re in the infirmary. You’re safe.” He couldn’t help but feel like he just lied about it being safe, if he was the cause of this.

“M…m..Mattheo” You began to cry again, “I’m so sorry.” You went to reach out and hug him but flinched. You followed the red transfusion line to him, “oh Mattheo.”

He sat up to lean towards you. He shushes you and wipes your tears with the back of his hand, ‘you need to calm down and take it easy, princess. You’ve lost a lot of blood and you're still weak. This is just to bring your levels up, you’ll start to feel better soon.”

You stared at his beautiful eyes, ones that had held so much hate but there seemed to be no trace of it now. You felt guilty, I acted like a coward. “Myrtle said it was going to be quick and painless. I’m so stupid I couldn’t even do it right.” You felt another wave of tears coming but you tried to choke them down.

“No youre not, you’re not at fault.” He couldn’t help but chuckle cautiously as what he was about to say, “you might be a know-it-all but you just need to have more control with your thoughts. Don’t listen to Moaning Myrtle. Don’t be hard on yourself, you're not stupid. You did nothing wrong.”

“I thought I was doing you a favor.” you were so exhausted. But you needed to get this out before you lost consciousness again. With your good arm you help his hand tightly, looking him in the eyes again to emphasize the point you were going to make, “Mattheo, I really am idiotic. I Am. I did think you had a perfect life, it didn’t cross my mind that you had it any other way. You were always carefree and just let's be honest, acting like you're’ better than everyone else. It was wrong of me to have assumed that.”

He frowns. “Don’t apologize. There’s no way to tell what someone is going through ultimately. I..cope in my own way.” He softly strokes your cheek with this thumb.

If it wasn’t for the pain, you would have thought you were asleep. Dead. Or in purgatory. A realm between realms. No way the mattheo I’ve known my whole life is sitting beside me looking..lovingly at me? You felt horrible. Did I just manipulate him into caring about me? Just hours ago he was mocking and saying nasty things as usual.

Mattheo could see the look of disbelief in your eyes from the way he was behaving, “Y/N. I’m caring for you. No you’re not dreaming or in some other realm. You’re here, with me, thank Merlin. You didn’t manipulate me, you woke me up.”

You sat up too quickly for your own good, your head feeling light “How are you doing that?”

He shook his head, “Another time. I’m really sorry for how I treated you. You think I’m just some asshole, but I'm more than that really. I want to be more than that. No one else has gotten to see the real me.”

“Mattheo, I see you.” Despite your pain, you reach out to cup his face between your hands. For a second, you saw the boy you first laid your eyes on that first year at the train station. The same sad eyes, “I see you.”

He sighed into your touch, it was a soft and innocent gesture he was not used to. He chuckled softly, and gently placed his hands over yours, keeping them there. He didn’t want to lose the touch, “I know you do, and that’s exactly why I'm afraid.”

You couldn’t help but imagine - how different our lives could have been for the last 6 years, if he would have just introduced himself to me. Explained why he looked so pained when I was with my family. “My parents would have welcomed you as their own” you explained your thoughts to him. “I could have protected you. You could have visited me during the holiday breaks. I know saying it will not change the past and what has happened to you. But I see you Matty.”

“yeah..it’s too late to change the past, I should’ve but I didn’t think you’d understand. It doesn’t excuse the way I treated you all these years, Y/N.” His voice got shaky, his eyes starting to water. He was a mess.

“No, don't you start Mattheo please, baby.” You brought him into a hug, again ignoring your throbbing wrist. “Easy now.” you soothed the curls that were behind his neck. They felt so soft.

Mattheo rested his head on your shoulder and held you tightly, softly crying into you. He wrapped his arms around you and held onto your shirt like he was afraid to let go. He couldn’t remember the last time someone treated him like this, it felt so new and overwhelming.

You kissed the top of his head, inhaling - cigarettes. You hated that he smoked but at this moment the smalle was comforting. He let out a deep sigh. You broke the hug only because you scooted over on the bed, and tugged him to lay beside you. We watched you, he looked so tired. He nodded in agreement with a small smile, he carefully laid beside you, making sure to be careful of your condition.

You gave him a reassuring look that wasn’t hurting you. I’m okay. You looked at your arms touching side by side, still connected by the tubing. You couldn't help but laugh, “Matty isn’t it ironic? All this pure-blood and mudblood talk and look” you carefully lifted the tube, “we’re still one and the same foundation.” You smiled at him, helping wipe his tear stained cheeks now. “Thanks for your donation to me.”

He too couldn't help but grin back at you. He couldn’t believe you weren’t pushing him away for how he treated you, or for how vulnerable he was at the moment, “any time, but please actually don’t do that ever again. You made me worried to death..”

“No I won’t. Pinky promise.” You held out your pinky for him to take.

He took it in his own nodding, “good, you’re stuck with me now.”

With our pinkies still woven, you looked at the size difference. You turned toward his Bambi like eyes, “let's start this over on the right foot. Better late than never? Hi i’m Y/N, [insert some fun facts about yourself].”

Mattheo smiled more widely, blushing his pinky did make yours look kiddish. It was adorable. He gave you a playful look, smirking at you like he usually would, “Nice to meet you there, Y/N. I’m Mattheo, the sexiest guy you’ll meet in Hogwarts.”

There’s my Mattheo. “And you promise to…?” you coaxed him.

He gave your pinky another squeeze, “to try to be nice and kind to you, and avoid bullying you….as well as to not smoke in your presence…you happy?”

You kind of nodded, holding in your laugh, “aaaand…?”

He looked at you, trying to read what you wanted him to say. He gave your pinky another, slightly rougher, squeeze. “And I promise not to throw a wad of gum into your beautiful hair?”

“Bingo. Mr. Riddle, that’s what I was ultimately looking for.” You let go of his pinky, “but it is nice to know the other stuff too.” you waved your hand like it was nothing, but it was my everything. He gave you a sarcastic scoff, he liked that you were still acting like your old self too.

You kissed his cheek and his face went redder than a cherry, you acted shocked “woah did I just make Mattheo, the sexiest guy in Hogwarts BLUSH?!” You slapped your hands against your cheeks in play disbelief, slightly regretting the pain it brought to your arms. He quickly shook his head and blushed even more than originally thought possible, he tried to hide his face away from you, “S-shut up! That’s a lie! I was not blushing, it’s just your imagination.”

You laughed at his reaction, taking his hand in mine once more comparing the hand sizes. You put my head against his shoulder, before dropping your jester attitude. Making him form another pinky promise with you. “Mattheo, I promise to be there for you. I want to protect you. You shouldn’t live in the shadow of your home life, especially not alone. Just as much as I’m stuck with you. You’re stuck with me. That’s my promise to you.”

His heart beat fast, it nearly melted his heart to hear your promise. He let out a deep, shaky breath. He couldn't stop the small tear that rolled down his cheek, he didn’t bother wiping it. He just leaned his head down to rest on your own, “deal…”

There was a pause, before you spoke up again.“I know we just started the year but please, come back home with me this Christmas holiday when it rolls around.” You blinked up at him. You started to feel really sleepy, that was to be your last request and plea for the moment, “I’ll show you how muggles get down to holiday business.”

Mattheo looked down at you and smiled softly, as your eyes were struggling to stay open, “yea sure, i’ll spend the holidays with you” he wasn’t sure how he would, but he would worry about that later.

Many promises were made this day, and you intended to keep each and every single one of them. In many ways, you knew this would still be the same Mattheo you had always known, but it would all be so different now. You managed to break through his extremely guarded shell, the hardest way possible. But it needed to desperately be broken.

You turned Mattheo’s head to look at you, he met your gaze. The corner of his lip curled up as he knew what you were about to do. He let you take the lead, closing his eyes. You kissed his lips slowly, cherishing how it felt. You wanted more of him, but your body was pleading for rest. You hugged his arm and surrendered.

He couldn’t help but touch his lips afterwards with his fingertips. He watched as you gave in to exhaustion, he followed your lead and let out a deep sigh before closing his eyes, “Goodnight princess.” Mattheo fell asleep to the sounds of you breathing and the sound of your heartbeat, they would surely become one of the most blissful lullabies to be heard by him. He intertwined his fingers with yours, he wouldn’t ever let go.

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russellsppttemplates · 5 months ago

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They're my babies! (Lando Norris)

While preparing for baby number three, you start to notice just how grown up Matilda and Fraser are

Note: english is not my first language. I'm back and I'm not sure if I still know how to do this 🫣 Thank you for being so patient ✨️ I hope it's enjoyable to read!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not actively taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is pregnant, mentions worries associated with pre-eclampsia, prematurity and themes associated with them

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"And where are my two boys going?", you inquired as you heard Lando tell Fraser to finish his breakfast so they could get ready to go.

"Daddy is taking me to get a haircut!", Fraser beamed as he ruffled his curls, "they're hindering me in the eyes", he explained.

"I'm getting my hair trimmed as well", your husband offered, kissing the top of your head after he set your tea next to your plate.

"Thank you, love", you whispered, "me and Tilly are staying in today, aren't we, princess?", you checked with your daughter. When you were putting her to bed the previous night, she asked if you could stay home for the day so she could help you with preparing the nursery for the arrival of your babygirl - the furniture was already in place, now you just needed to fill it with clothes bedding and all of the products you needed for your baby girl.

"Yes, I'm helping mummy with Lottie's things!", your oldest daughter smiled before taking a spoonful from her porridge.

"That's very nice of you, sweetheart", Lando praised, kissing the top of her head and getting the plates from the table to put in the dishwasher.

The boys headed upstairs to change while you and Tilly stayed back downstairs, giving her your undivided attention as she told you about what happened in school. With the approach of the baby's arrival, you and Lando made extra effort to spend alone time with each of your kids.

"Mummy! Tilly! I want to show you something, where are you?", Fraser called just as you were getting ready to go upstairs yourselves.

"We're heading upstairs!", Matilda replied.

At the top of the stairs, you were met with your husband and your son dressed in a white t-shirt and dark green shorts. Apart from the little cartoon Fraser 's t-shirt had, they were identical to the eye.

"Are you matching? Look at you two!", you cooed, stretching your arms so you could take him in and have the little boy close to you.

"I don't want to hurt you, mummy - I'm a big boy", Fraser mumbled as he set him on your hip.

"You won't, my love, I'm good", you assured as Lando also rubbed your back, "you two look so handsome".

"It's true, daddy and Fraser look handsome! Can we match today too, mummy?", Matilda asked.

Lando blushed slightly at the attention he was getting, hiding his face on your daughter's neck and blowing a raspberry there, making her let out a loud squeal followed by her melodic laugh, "that tickles daddy!".

"You look really beautiful, mummy", Fraser whispered on your ear, resting his head on your chest and playing with your hair.

"Thank you, baby boy", you kissed his cheek, "are you planning on giving me a new hair do too?", you joked.

"No, it looks pretty like this, but I just like to play with it", he mumbled.

The four of your stayed in the hallway for a bit before, just taking in the moment before Lando and Fraser really had to go, not wanting to miss their appointment.

Matilda helped you pick out a loungewear set that was comfortable and breezy before she went to her wardrobe to grab one of her lavender dresses, thinking the colour was perfect to match your own clothes.

"Where are we going to start, mummy?", Matilda wondered, sitting down on the rug inside the nursery and looking at all the boxes filled with unfolded clothes.

"These are all washed so we just have to fold them and organise them into the drawers - I'd you want to play or do something that you find more fun, you can do it, Tilly, I don't mind", you assured, hardly thinking folding clothes would be the funnest activity for your seven year old.

"No, mummy, I want to help you! Can you just put some music on your phone, please?", she asked, prompting you to play some of your favourites in your Spotify app.

"The top ones can be for the baby grows - we'll go through a lot of them so they need to be quick and easy to grab", you explained as you got the folded clothes from her hands.

"This one here is so pretty, mummy!", Matilda pointed to a babygrow you remembered her wearing when she was a baby.

"We got this one from uncle George and auntie Carmen when you were born", you smiled, unfolding the piece to take a good look at the embroidered stars on the piece. Despite having been worn multiple times by both Matilda and Fraser, the piece was still in good quality given the materials it was made out of.

"Me? Was I ever this little?", Matilda argued softly, standing behind the piece so she could see the difference, "wow, it's so hard to believe that", she mused.

Your emotions got the best out of you as your memory took you back to the times of newborn Matilda. You and Lando were first time parents and naturally things didn't fall into place right away - there was a lot of learning still and finding out what worked for your baby and your family despite everything you read on the books, but the newborn bubble was a time you cherished fondly.

"You were! I even remember this one being a little loose on you, daddy had to roll up the sleeves so they wouldn't bunch up on your hands", you recalled your husband doing so, holding her to his chest as he adjusted the fabric on the little one's body.

"I'm so much bigger now!", Matilda smiled before folding the piece again and placing it in the drawer.

"Yes, you are", you gulped, keeping the tears at bay as you watched your not so little girl independently carry on with her task.

A call interrupted you, Matilda handing you the phone from its spot on the chest of drawers so you wouldn't have to get up.

"Thank you, my love - hello!", you asked to the other side of the line, engaging in conversation with your sister in-law.

"Is it Nana Cisca or auntie Cisca?", Matilda asked when you put the phone on speaker so they could talk too.

"It's auntie Cisca, Tilly! How is my little princess?", she asked over the phone.

As soon as they talked about everything they needed to talk, and ending the call with a promise of a drawing session in the garden for when the weather looked nice, your daughter and you bid goodbye to your husband's sister.

"Mummy!", you heard Fraser call after the door closed just as you were plating up some snacks for you and Matilda.

"You boys got home just in time for snack time!", you called back, bringing the plates to the table before Lando and Fraser stepped inside the kitchen.

The sight before you could only be disguised as double vision. Fraser always looked a little bit more like Lando when compared to the physical traits he got from you, but right now, there was Lando and a mini Lando.

"Do you not like my haircut, mummy?", your son asked as a tinge of insecurity made it to his voice.

"Of course I like it, Fraser - I love it!", you quickly assured, picking him up so you could take a good look at his handsome face, "you look so handsome, my love! You and daddy look so much like eachtoher, that's why I was quiet for a bit", you explained.

Lando approached you, pecking your lips and rubbing your baby bump, "the hairdresser said the same actually", he mused as he sat next to Matilda and stole one of her strawberries.

"There's enough food for all of us, let me make some more", you smiled at their antics.

"I want to go down, mummy", Fraser asked so you could set him on the floor.

Lando took the opportunity to swap with the little boy, offering him his spot at the table and heading to stand next to you by the counter.

"And do I look handsome too?", your husband whispered on your ear as he circled your waist, his hands landing on your baby bump and feeling her move.

"The most handsome of all, although Fraser is serious competition", you giggled.

"He's one cute little dude, isn't he?", your husband stated, "what can I say? We make really cute kids, Y/N Norris", he kissed your neck, "and we're about to have proof number three of that - how has she been?".

"She's been well behaved today, although as soon as she hears your voice, she goes back to being a wiggly baby", you chuckled as you felt a particularly hard kick.

"Calm down, sweet girl, daddy is excited to be home too but we can't kick mummy like that, can we? You can't be a trouble maker already", Lando spoke softly, kissing your cheek one last time before he carried on helping you make something to eat.

"And that way, she always knew that she could count on her friends", you finished Fraser's bedtime story, tucking him in properly before setting the book back on the shelf.

"Good night, mummy", Fraser mumbled sleepily, "I love you to the moon and back".

"Sweet dreams, Fraser, I love you all the way around the milky way", you mumbled back, kissing his forehead and leaving the room once you turned off the light.

You could faintly hear some noise coming from Matilda's bedroom, knocking on the door softly before opening it and seeing Lando sat on the bed with Tilly on his arms, a finished book on his thighs as they spoke softly.

"Still not asleep?", you nudged.

"I wanted Tilly to show you this", Lando pointed to the drawing on top of her desk, "tell mummy what that is".

"This is our family, and we can use this to teach Lottie when she's born", Matilda clarified, "Nana Cisca has the same name as auntie Cisca, Lottie can be confused, mummy", she reasoned.

"That's very nice and thoughtful of you princess", you smiled, tracing all the lines on the paper.

You and Lando wished her a good night before leaving her bedroom, Lando popping into Fraser's room to kiss him goodnight another time and to check if he was asleep before meeting you in the bedroom.

"This morning, Tilly found the baby grow with the stars George and Carmen gifted us and she held it up against her chest and I have been a mess since", you admitted as Lando held out his arms for a cuddle.

"She's really grown up, isn't she? I have no idea how she thought about the names", Lando chuckled.

"Your sister called this morning and she wondered if it was her or your mother - she seemed to stick with the thought but I didn't think much of it", you shrugged your shoulders as you rocked in eachother's embrace.

"She's really clever, she gets that from you, that's for sure", Lando offered.

"Seems right since you managed to get rid of my little baby boy and bring back a mini you version from the hairdresser!", you scoffed as Lando looked at you with a quirked eyebrow, "don't act all innocent! Fraser was my cuddly baby boy this morning, then you took him to get a haircut and suddenly he looks like a pre teen! And he said he didn't want to cuddle me", you pouted.

"Well, I did take him for the haircut, but I didn't actually do it myself", Lando argued playfully, earning him light slap on his chest, "but I did tell him he had to be careful with you now that you're towards the end of the pregnancy", he nudged.

"Lando", you pouted.

"I didn't tell him to not cuddle you! I just told him that he needed to be careful with you carrying heavy things and stuff like that - he was the one to suggest that from now on he would only cuddle you when you were laying down!", your husband told you in his defense.

"He's still my baby! And Tilly is too! I want cuddles with my babies no matter what!", you stated, feeling Charlotte kick Lando's tummy since you were still glued together, "you too, my love, in due time", you mumbled the last part.

"I tell you what, tomorrow we'll have a cuddle session in bed, all of us and I'll make sure Tilly and Fraser are as close to you as possible", Lando smiled.

"That sounds good", you agreed, kissing his lips before you started getting ready for bed.

As you sat down after pulling the covers, Lando noticed there was still something that was leaving you unsettled.

"I can tell something is worrying you still - you have that frown line Fraser has on his forehead too", Lando nodded as he rubbed your feet and ankles since they had swelled a bit lately.

"What if I can't be a good home for this baby, too?", you asked as Lando quirked an eyebrow at you, "Fraser had to come earthside earlier because my blood pressure was a mess, and before that I spent days in hospital trying to make sure he had the least amount of deficits possible. What if I can't carry to term this time around either?", you whispered the last part, almost like if you said it any louder, it was bound to happen straight away.

"I'm scared too, my love", Lando spoke after gathering his thoughts, "but we are doing what we can to make sure this baby cooks for as long as she has to before coming to us - we're having extra appointments to check with everything, we're being active and healthy, I'm also travelling as less as I possibly can, and we have both of our parents coming here for help on a schedule so you don't stress out so much - I know you'll never admit it because you think it's a dirty expression, but those two?", he pointed in the direction of the kids' bedrooms, "they're definitely my children because of the chaos they cause and it's stressful. I love them to death - I'd do anything for them -, but, my word, is it hard sometimes?!", he giggled as you nodded in agreement, "I'd never want you to feel all the parenting stress on your own, it's not good any other time and it's especially not good when you're carrying our little girl", he smiled, kissing just above your baby bump.

"I just want to be a safe home for Lottie", you rubbed your babybump.

"And you are, Y/N, her first home and the safest of them all - and even though I'm not wishing for it, if it happens again, we know we can handle it and most of that is because your such a strong woman", he praised as he sat next to you and held your hand in his, "we're in this together and you can always come to me whenever these scary thoughts come around", he kissed your lips.

"Thank you", you whispered again, pecking his lips.

"That's not a nice greeting, I deserve better, gorgeous girl", he smirked, supporting himself on his arms while carefully hovering over you while he was still able to, "you deserve better, and apparently they say this can be very relaxing and lower your blood pressure, so you're in for a fine night, pretty mama", he said as he stole a proper kiss from your lips.

#lando norris imagine #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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mermaidgirl30 · 26 days ago

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✨Saving What Was Lost Part 2: A Million Shades of Red ✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so excited to bring you chapter two! I’ve been working long and hard on this, so I hope you do enjoy it. As always, I LOVE to hear your thoughts so comments and reblogs really make my day 🩷 I loved getting to write the last half of this in Joel’s POV. No beta for this one. Happy reading! I have reached my max number of tags for this, so please go follow my updates blog if you'd like to be notified for future updates @mermaidgirl30-updates

Summary: Trying to figure out your way through grief is hard, but Joel seems to give you that first flicker of hope that you need.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 12.7k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, angst, soft and protective Joel, violence, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, switching POVs

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The next day you don’t leave your room, can barely stand to get out of bed. So, you don’t. You just stay curled up in a ball between the twisted sheets, listening to the soft drizzle of rain and the howling wind that taps at the glass window. You tossed and turned the entire night while nightmares tore their way through your worn body, reminding you that your life was ripped from your hands more than a year and a half ago.

You’re not hungry, can barely even choke down a glass of water. But Joel goes out of his way to make sure you get something down, even going as far as helping you hold the glass, encouraging you the entire time. You never asked him to; he just does it.

He brings you food to your bed. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And even when you can’t stomach anything, he leaves the plate next to your bed in case you change your mind. He checks on you every hour of the day, even if that’s just him walking by and peeking his head in the doorway to make sure you’re still breathing, alive.

You don’t feel alive, but maybe one day you will. Maybe one day you won’t wake up and immediately feel like dying.

One day. It’s only been one single fucking day since you’ve been pulled from the reins of Angela and all her grimy men, saved by the hands of Joel Miller. And you still don’t understand why he picked you. Of all the girls he could’ve saved, he chose to save you…

He saved you. And you’re eternally, forever grateful. Even if you can’t express that. Joel Miller is your hero. And even though you don’t exactly trust him yet, maybe one day you will. For now, this is enough.

Take it one step at a time. That’s what he keeps telling you. And you just swallow it down and stomach the pain like hot wire scalding your skin.

One day at a time.

When the night comes around, so do the nightmares. They leave you soaked in sweat, hair sticking to your damp forehead, eyes wide when they drag you from sleep. Blood curdling screams leave your lips, the raspy wails choking you as the tears pour like raindrops down your face.

And then there’s Joel slamming the door open, watching you with those sad brown eyes locked on yours, his soft voice calming you down from the brutal memories of the past that try to drag you back to the awful, pain-filled house. You’ll never go back. Not ever again.

Again, he doesn’t leave until you’ve calmed down enough. He asks if you want him to stay, sit in that same chair he sat in the entire night the evening before. But you shake your head and tell him you’ll be okay. But you’re not okay. You’re far from okay. And when he nods and walks out of the room and closes his bedroom door, you let the tears soak the sheets until you’re dragged back down into darkness.

That’s exactly how the next three days go. You stay in bed, only dragging yourself from the cool sheets to crawl to the bathroom. You have no strength, no will to do anything. So you stay in the safety of your room and just sleep, praying the nightmares will leave you alone for just one fucking day, but they don’t. They come like creatures in the night, swallowing you whole with their sharp fangs and feasting on your misery. They bleed you dry just like all those men did.

And then there’s Joel and those sad doe eyes… He scares away the nightmares sometimes. But you don’t dare tell him that. You just stay silent, letting him stalk the halls day and night until you’re pulled down to sleep.

It’s a repeated cycle that you can’t break: wake up, get a teeth clenching migraine, cry, fall back to sleep, wake up with nightmares clouding your mind, cry, let Joel talk you back to sleep, cry. But you can’t stop, can’t shake it. It’s like it’s ingrained deep in your mind, becoming a part of your new identity.

You’re completely hopeless.

And still Joel doesn’t push you, doesn’t make you do anything you don’t want to. He’s just a crutch that he’d gladly let you use, if only you’d touch him. But you don’t. You stay far far away from his tanned skin, his rough hands. You don’t want to be touched, and he doesn’t dare go there. He just stays like a lingering shadow in the hall, making sure you’re still here. Alive. He wants you alive, breathing. And you don’t know why…

When the fourth day comes around, you make it your goal to get up. You have to try; you can’t stay in bed forever, even if your weak body is completely revolting against any sort of movement. You ignore the blinding pain of your aching bones and push yourself out of bed. And that in itself is a step in the right direction.

With messy hair, sweatpants, and a purple hoodie, you take a deep breath and make your way out of the room, praying you can make it all the way downstairs. Every step feels like sharp glass shards cutting the bottom of your heels, but you fight the burning pain and walk on. You have to make it downstairs. You just have to.

Take it one step at a time. Joel’s soothing voice floats through your mind, and that alone is enough to get you down the steps and into the kitchen.

When you turn the corner and see him slumped against the counter, one elbow leaning against it and his other hand skimming the newspaper intently, you freeze in place. He must’ve not heard you tiptoe in because his eyes are locked tight on the folded black and white paper.

He’s focused, jaw tense as he reaches for his cup of coffee. It’s black. No cream, no sugar. Just black. And you can smell the fresh brew lingering in the air. His green flannel hugs his broad shoulders, the rolled up sleeves leaving his tanned forearms exposed to the light. His eyes have dark shadows underneath them, and he looks like he’s gotten just as much sleep as you have these past few days. Basically none at all.

Your eyes avert to the floor, your fingers nervously twisting into the soft fabric of the hoodie. You don’t know what to say, so you just take one more step into the lit up kitchen and clear your closed-up throat.

Joel’s eyes snap up, and he immediately drops the newspaper, pushing back his sturdy mug of black coffee. “Oh, hey. You’re up.” A ghost of a smile meets his lips and then those soft doe eyes appear.

He needs to stop looking at you like that, like you’re a lost puppy. But you won’t lie, they do make you feel a little safer.

Nodding your head, you push your hands inside the pockets of the hoodie, twiddling your thumbs mindlessly because you don’t know how else to act when anxiety and fright sit tucked away in the back of your mind.

“You hungry?” he asks, tilting his head as he studies you with soft eyes.

Those soft brown eyes…

Your stomach rumbles at the thought of food. You’ve barely eaten the past few days, unable to stomach anything under than choking water down and only able to tolerate a couple pieces of toast. Anything else was left untouched, and all Joel would do was sigh when he kept seeing the full plates of food left on your nightstand. But again, he didn’t force you to eat anything, only encouraged you while he asked if you felt okay.

He was… too good. Why on earth did he choose to save you…

“Mhm,” is all you can hum out.

“Okay then. Why don’t you sit down, sweetheart. I can fix you somethin’ up real quick,” he answers from across the lavish kitchen, pulling out various ingredients from the refrigerator.

You slip into one of the barstools at the kitchen island and lean your elbows against the white quartz that reflect against the bright lights displayed high in the room. Your back is as stiff as a board, and your fingers knot together like you don’t know how to act when you’re in the presence of Joel. He won’t hurt you, yet in the back of your mind there’s always that little alarm that says you can’t trust anyone.

You can trust him. He’s safe.

“Apples or blueberries?” he calls out behind the open refrigerator door.

“What?” you ask confused as your eyes flick back up to him.

He leans his head out and smiles softly. “Which one do you like more, sweetheart? Apples or blueberries?”

You take a second to think on the question. He’s asking which you like more. He’s giving you a choice. Something you haven’t had in almost two years. Do you even remember how to choose anything for yourself? You doubt it.

“Oh, ummm,” you sputter out, fingers locked tight around each other. You almost think they’ll break with how hard you have them knotted together. “Blueberries,” is what you finally decide on through your racing mind.

He nods his head and grabs a container of fresh blueberries and sits them on the counter, pulling out other ingredients like butter and syrup. You sit there motionless while he gathers a couple of pans and glass plates out of the cabinet. And you just don’t know what to think about any of this.

After a couple minutes of just listening to him bustle around the kitchen, he breaks the silence. “You want some coffee? Just made a fresh batch a few minutes ago.”

Coffee. You don’t remember the taste of it anymore or how you even liked it. “Oh, okay. Yeah, I could take some coffee,” you say shyly with your hands still shoved deep in your pockets.

He wastes no time and pours you a cup, sliding a spoon in as warm steam escapes from the black liquid. “How do you like it? Black, sweet, lots of creamer?”

Your lips mold together in a tight line as you try hard to remember how you used to make it. You can’t recall anything you used to like before you were taken, and it makes you want to beat your fists on the countertop and spill the tears you’re trying so very hard to hold back.

“I don’t—I don’t remember how I like it,” you whisper, eyes dropped to the shiny island, legs trembling beneath you.

Joel takes a step in your direction and sets the steamy cup of coffee down in front of you. You can feel his body looming across the island, his large hands leaning against the quartz material, and those eyes. You feel how soft and sad and intently he’s looking at you, like he understands your pain.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me a second?” he asks quietly, his deep voice a staccato in the heavy air. When you lift your eyes, he gently encourages you by saying, “There ya go. Attagirl.” And for some reason, that makes you want to cry even more.

“S’alright, sweetheart. How ‘bout I leave out the cream and sugar, and you can make it sweeter if you don’t like it plain. That alright with you?” he asks softly, his gentle brown eyes locked on yours. You sniffle out a yes, and he gives you a small smile as he turns to grab the creamer and sugar.

You drag the coffee cup closer to you and tap your nails against the ceramic material, thinking long and hard about everything you’ve lost. What did you even like doing anymore? You can barely remember what you liked before the last couple of years were snatched away from you. You can’t even remember your favorite color…

When he returns and sets the bottle of creamer and a shaker of sugar down in front of you, you crack. A tear slips down your cheek, and you look up at him through glassy eyes. “I can’t remember what I loved to do before they—before they took me. My hobbies, my passions, my likes. I just don’t remember…” Your voice is barely audible as it shakes beneath your broken stature.

God, you’re so broken.

His jaw flexes and his knuckles tighten into closed fists. He seems angry, but those sad brown eyes tell a different story. He’s not mad at you; he’s furious about the ones that took your life away. The murders that tainted and destroyed your life, your mind, your heart. They took everything from you, and Joel knows this. He hates it as much as you do.

He takes a deep breath and relaxes his fingers against the cold material of the kitchen island, his brown eyes focused directly on you. His bottom lip twitches, and then he sighs as he speaks. “It’s gonna take a while, sweetheart. Gonna take time and work to remember what it was you loved before, what you lost. But I have no doubt that you’ll get ‘em back. You’re gonna discover new loves, new passions, new hobbies. And trust me when I say that you will thrive. One day, you’re gonna be soarin’, and all this pain and sufferin’ will be gone. Maybe not completely, but you’re gonna fly, sweetheart. Wings and all.”

Another tear escapes your lash line, and you nod up at him slowly. “Thank you…” is all you can muster out of your highly emotional state. Thoughts are hard after he just painted a masterpiece with his words.

You’re gonna fly, sweetheart. The words stay sealed in a safe space deep inside your mind. No one can take what he just said away from you. Words that were spoken straight from your savior. Words meant just for you. Wings and all.

“Why don’t you take a sip of your coffee? See how you like it.” He encourages you to try while he stands back and watches.

You bring the curve of the cup to your lips and take a small sip. As the warm liquid washes down your throat, your nose instantly crinkles up. Joel’s laugh floats around the room, bouncing off the stained cabinets and right back to you. You almost want to laugh back because his laugh is so infectious and light, but you don’t.

“Take it you’re not jus’ a plain cup of coffee type of girl,” he chuckles as he pushes back his sandy tousled hair, a couple strands of silver flashing beneath the bright lights.

“Guess not,” you reply as you reach for the sugar next. When you pour a large spoonful in and mix it up, you take another sip. It’s closer to your liking, but there’s still ingredients missing that you can’t recall.

“Not sweet enough for you yet?” he grins, taking a sip from his own coffee cup, watching you struggle with finding just the right mix.

“Not yet,” you sigh, annoyed with your own self from not knowing how to make your coffee anymore.

“S’alright. Try the creamer next. Maybe that’ll do it.”

As you start to pour the thick creamer into the warm liquid, he sets a shaker of cinnamon in front of you. And again, he just watches you with those warm milky-brown eyes.

You look at him all gawking and wordless, speechless because he’s trying to strike your memory, make you remember what you liked. He just stands there and smiles, watching you pour some cinnamon in next, like that’s what you needed. You don’t know why, but it makes your heart race just a beat faster.

“In case that’s what you were lookin’ for,” he replies, flicking his soft eyes down to the brown cinnamon atop the now lighter-colored coffee.

When he turns back around, a hint of a smile curls against your pink lips. In case that’s what you were looking for. He’s so… kind. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve him.

You take a sip of your creamy, sugared-up coffee and hum at the sweet taste. Almost there, almost how you want it. You toss in some more cinnamon, mixing it into the almost white liquid. And when the delicious flavor meets your tastebuds, you freeze.

Caramel. That’s the ingredient you’re missing. It’s like a lock clicked right into place. A lost piece that was missing, and Joel helped you find that piece of yourself again.

“Joel?” you call. His body whips around, and then those soft brown eyes are on you. Those doe-colored irises that make your mouth run dry.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, like he’s right at your beck and call.

“Do you by chance have any caramel?”

His eyes light up at that request, and he smiles warmly. “As a matter of fact, I do,” he grins.

He walks over to the refrigerator and pulls it open effortlessly, digging around until a small bottle of caramel materializes and lands in front of you, his fingers brushing past your coffee cup as he takes a step back.

“Hope you found what you were lookin’ for.” The way his deep timbre and the meaning of his words leaves you smiling behind the hand that’s leaning against your mouth.

“I think I did,” you say shyly up at him.

He chuckles and nods, knowing exactly what that means. “I’ll make sure to always have caramel stocked in the fridge from now on. Jus’ for you.”

Just for you.

A smile ghosts over your lips, and another tear leaks when you realize what just happened. You actually smiled. You smiled. Even just a small one is progress. Joel made that progress happen. He made you smile…

After pouring in a glob of syrup and stirring the sugary goodness with your spoon, you almost moan from the way the savory coffee hits you like you just swallowed the best piece of cake in the world. This is how you liked your coffee. Caramel, sugar, lots of creamer, cinnamon, warm. You just unlocked a forgotten piece in your mind, and it’s all because of Joel…

The way he’s looking at you, soft doe eyes and a big smile curled against his plush lips, makes you give him a small nod. And in that moment, you see a ghost of a tear in his clear brown eyes. He knows you just found another lost part of yourself, and he loves to see you discover it once again.

He ends up making you blueberry pancakes drenched in butter and syrup, and you have to admit that these are the best pancakes you’ve had in your entire life. While you indulge in the sticky, syrupy plate, Joel joins you at the kitchen island after a few minutes. He’s careful to sit one barstool away from you, knowing very well that you need your space. And that’s exactly what he does. Gives you space while also being close, present, in the moment. And you appreciate that about him. He’s respectful of your boundaries when no one else has ever been before.

He gives you a smile every once in a while as he sips his black coffee, barely touching his own pancakes. You think he just likes watching you eat, for whatever reason that may be. You know damn well you don’t look pretty shoveling a huge forkful of pancakes in your mouth, but you let him watch anyway. Maybe it’s because you aren’t used to being fed like this, only used to being starved to death. He’s trying to give you the freedom and enjoyment back in your life, you think. And that alone almost brings tears to your eyes.

Another couple of minutes goes by, and that’s when you decide to break the silence. Maybe he could answer some questions that’ve been crawling under your skin since the moment you stepped foot into this house. “Joel?”

“Hmm?” he hums, taking one more sip of his coffee and setting the mug down on the quartz island.

You take a second to breathe, tapping the fork nervously against the glass plate, gathering your words together. And then you ask the question that’s been eating you alive at night. “What were you doing at the auction, really?”

He taps his thumb against the brim of his coffee cup and stares off into the blue silently, his jaw slightly clenched. “I was there for business.”

“Business?”

“Yes,” he answers blatantly.

“Seems like you’ve done it more than once. Been at auctions, I mean.” You drag your fork over the syrup-filled plate, wondering what he’ll say next.

“That’s ‘cause I have,” he says as he swallows a sip of coffee, setting it back down carefully. Like he might break the glass if he’s too loud.

That doesn’t answer your question, so you grit your teeth together and ask again. “Why were you there, Joel?”

He sighs and runs his fingers back through his tousled curls, making it messy and disheveled as thick lines map across his tanned forehead. “Was tryin’ to find someone. A girl named Rebecca. Her family, they reached out. Told ‘em I would find her and bring her back home.”

Words get lodged in the back of your throat, your mouth suddenly dry as a desert. He was looking for someone but instead found you. He could’ve left you to the awful blonde man. The nameless face that still haunts your nightmares, depriving you of adequate sleep.

“Oh. I see…” you say quietly. “But you found me instead?”

He nods slowly. “S’right, sweetheart. Found you instead. Got you out jus’ in time, too. Glad I did.”

Your bottom lip quivers as tears prick the back of your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. He should’ve left you there to die. You already feel dead, so why does he want to bring you back to life?

“You could’ve just left me there. You could’ve just—” Your words are smeared with guilt because he shouldn’t have wasted his time and money and efforts on you. But he did, and you still don’t think you deserved it. His kindness. Just everything he’s done for you. You don’t deserve any of it.

“Whoa. Hold on there, sweetheart,” he says as he halts you from finishing your sentence. “I wasn’t gonna jus’ leave you. So don’t for a second think I would’ve.”

His sad brown eyes don’t help your trembling, but you just nod and brush away any trace of tears with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“Okay,” you choke out.

His fingertips brush against the edge of the kitchen island and after another minute of silence, you ask the next question that you’ve been wondering. “What exactly is it that you do for work?”

He blows out a deep breath and answers. “I was a former CIA agent. After Sarah was taken, I did everything I could to find her and get her back. Turns out when I found her, I found ten other girls that were missin’. I decided then what my line of work was gonna be. Opened up my own private business that focuses on huntin’ down sex traffickers, shuttin’ down auctions, findin’ missing girls. A lot of families hire me to help bring their daughters home, and that’s what I do.”

Your eyes widen as you take in the information. Joel does this sort of thing on a weekly basis? “So, you’re kind of like a bounty hunter?”

“Something like that, I suppose,” he chuckles. “It’s almost like I never left my former position sometimes. But this seemed more important. After Sarah was taken, I made it my life’s mission to take down as many traffickers as I could. And trust me when I say I will find every single fucker that ever laid their filthy hands on you, and I will destroy them.”

You swallow back a lump in your throat and gawk at what he just said. “I don’t know what to say, Joel. That’s uhh—that’s…”

“Don’t gotta say anything, sweetheart. That’s a lot of information to take in.”

“You kill people?” you ask quietly, dropping your fork as it clatters against the glass plate. You’ve suddenly lost your appetite.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he sighs, dragging his palm down his patchy beard in deep thought.

“A lot?”

He nods. “I’ve killed a lot of bad men, sweetheart. Both for the CIA and for my own business. After knowing what most of ‘em have done, that’s the only thing you can do sometimes. ‘Cause if they go to prison, they’ll jus’ get bailed out and do it all over again. I’ve witnessed it happen quite a lot, unfortunately. So, the only way is to get rid of ‘em for good.”

“I see…” you whisper, twiddling your thumbs together mindlessly as your eyebrows knit together in concentration.

He kills people. Bad people.

“Look, if you’re uncomfortable with this topic we can—”

You stop him right there by shaking your head, your eyes snapping up to look him intently in the eyes. “No. No, I just—that’s gotta be heavy, Joel. What you do.”

He groans under his breath and nods, his brown eyes heavy with years of dealing with traffickers. “It is, sweetheart. But I do it to make a difference. Seein’ those girls go back to their families, watchin’ ‘em get back to living their lives is truly worth the long nights and heartache of this job.”

Your eyes get a little foggy as you look at him like a lost puppy, admiration and sadness swirling through your irises. You don’t have a family to go back to. You don’t have anyone. But you don’t see Joel rushing to kick you out. In fact, he hasn’t even said anything on the topic yet. You don’t even know where you’d go, what you’d do.

How can a person get by in life if they don’t even know who they are anymore? You’d probably just wither away into burnt ashes if it wasn’t for Joel…

After a beat of silence, Joel digs around in the pocket of his denim jeans and takes something out. “Oh, and this is for you.” A new iPhone appears on the clean counter, and then he slides it over to you.

Your mouth drops open as you unlock the screen, your index finger flicking through the different pages.“You really got me a phone?” you ask with disbelief in your voice.

“Sure did, sweetheart. It’s got my contact information in there, and I put Sarah’s in there for ya. In case you wanna reach out. Or I could do it. Whatever you’re comfortable with. And Tess’s number is in there. Whenever you’re ready to talk to her, she’ll be there. Jus’ don’t push yourself. Only when you’re ready. You’ll know it when you are.”

Your lips tremble as you swallow back fresh tears. He’s already done more than you deserve. “Thank you, Joel. This is… this is more than I could’ve asked for. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

He holds up a palm to stop you, scoffing at the last sentence. “‘S’not necessary, sweetheart. You don’t owe me a dime.”

“But I—.”

“Hey, listen to me. You don’t owe me anything ever, sweetheart. Not a damn thing. The only thing you could possibly give me is the chance to see you healing from all this trauma. Learning to love life again is all I wanna see. Understand?”

He wants to see you enjoy life again. He wants to see you healing…

“Oh. I uhh—okay,” you stammer out quietly.

“Go on and finish your pancakes. You want some more coffee? I could—”

Before Joel can finish his sentence, the front door opens with a bang, and you jump in your seat, your fork going flying to the ground.

“Joel! Hey, Joel. We need to talk. I…”

Your eyes widen in fright as you see a tall man with slicked back dark, greasy hair standing in the hallway. The breath gets knocked from your lungs like you’ve been kicked in the chest, and adrenaline courses through your veins like lightning. Fear sets you on edge, and all you can think is that this man is here to take you away or worse, hurt you.

No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening!

“Jesus Christ,” Joel growls as he slips off his barstool, stalking toward the man with a matching pair of dark brown eyes. But they’re much darker than Joel’s.

“Joel, I—Oh.” The man freezes as Joel stands over him, clearly upset that he appeared out of thin air.

Your body tells you to run, to hide. So you slide off your stool and start to move quickly. Before you can get out of the kitchen, Joel stops you in your tracks.

“Hey, s’alright. He’s not gonna—” Joel coos, trying to calm you down, one arm outstretched like he’s reaching for you.

Your hands lock around the edge of the wall, trying to grip onto something that’ll ground you into place.

Calm down. He won’t hurt you. But you don’t know that. You don’t know this man. And you can’t trust any of them. Can you even fully trust Joel? You don’t know now.

“Tommy, I told you to call first. Don’t jus’ show up. You knew she was here! The hell’s the matter with you?” Joel growls, shoving him hard in the shoulder.

“Shit, Joel. I wasn’t even thinkin’. Sorry, I just assumed you talked to her already,” he apologizes, brushing off the spot on his leather jacket that Joel moved out of place.

You watch the banter between them, not knowing what to do or where to run.

“Well, I was ‘bout to. I said four in the afternoon, Tommy. Not the fuckin’ mornin’. Christ,” he scoffs, hands on his hips while his lips form into a tight line. “Now you apologize to her.”

“Darlin’, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tommy sighs, taking a step forward in your direction.

“Stay back,” you warn, trying your best to sound brave, but you’re anything but that.

“Hey, s’alright, sweetheart. He’s not gonna hurt ya,” Joel soothes slowly, stepping forward as his brown eyes soften when he looks at you. “This is Tommy. He’s my brother. He works with me. Actually helped me the night I got you out.”

Your eyes flick quickly between the two of them. Your mouth feels like sandpaper when you realize what he just said. He was there too? “He… helped you?”

Joel nods, keeping his distance to make you feel more comfortable. “S’right, sweetheart. Helped me get you out safely.”

“What…” you whisper, your eyes wide as you look at Tommy. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do right now as he stands between you and Joel, trying to figure out if he’s too close.

“It’s true, darlin’.” Tommy has the same mannerisms and Southern drawl as Joel. They really must be brothers.

“Th—thank you,” you say directly at Tommy, your hand dropping from the wall as your guard drops.

He smiles and stuffs his hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Don’t mention it, darlin’. Glad you were able to get out of that hell hole.”

“Me too…” you answer back in a whisper.

“Joel, I need to speak with you for a minute.” Tommy nods his head toward the living room, and Joel looks between you and his brother, brows furrowed together undecidedly. He obviously knows how uncomfortable and uncertain you are with a strange man in the house. But this isn’t your house. It’s Joel’s.

“Is it alright if he comes in, sweetheart?” Joel looks over at you with soft brown eyes. And God, those fucking eyes will be the death of you.

“Why are you asking me? It’s your house. Why are you—.”

He rakes a palm down his thick beard and sighs. “‘Cause I don’t want you scared, sweetheart.”

You just stand there like an idiot looking between him and Tommy, deciding how this will go. Your body screams for him to leave, but half of you trusts Joel. And if he says he won’t hurt you then you know he’s not lying.

“It’s okay, Joel. He can come in,” you say hesitantly, your fingers curling in, making half crescent moons against your skin.

Tommy smiles while you just stand there silently, watching like a hawk. “Thank you, darlin’. You know you’re a brave girl, don’t you?”

You give Tommy a bewildered look and just shake your head while Joel watches the interactions between the two of you. “I don’t feel like one,” you half whisper out.

“Well, ya are,” he confirms.

Again, you stand and stare. Fingernails embedded into your palms. You might as well be drawing blood now.

“C’mon, Tommy.” Joel leads him into the living room, leaving you to an empty kitchen with half-eaten pancakes on the countertop. But your appetite has sailed away. And suddenly, you can’t even catch your breath.

You make your way over to the barstool, knocking the knife to the floor with a loud clatter. There you go again making messes. When will you ever learn?

You twirl a piece of hair anxiously, awaiting whatever the conversation is to be over. You don’t like not knowing what’s being said, especially when it’s two large men that could take you down in a matter of seconds.

Joel would never. At least you don’t think. It’s weird, the thing between you two. He saved you, continuously tries to comfort you in a way that you’ll accept, tries to take care of you. And you haven’t even been here a fucking week yet.

He’s… different. He wouldn’t hurt you. Not ever. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself. But his actions match his words. And he feels safe. But are you ever really safe anymore? Your body thinks not, and it makes you sick to your stomach.

You saunter over to the edge of the kitchen, leaning your ear against the edge of the wall, hoping to get a glimpse into their conversation. You have to know what’s being discussed. For your safety and the comfort of your mind. They could be discussing anything.

Leaning a little closer, you get a drift of their conversation.

“You sure, Tommy?”

“Positive. We got ‘em, brother. We found ‘em. And they’re not gettin’ away this time.”

Blood pumps like a fountain through your ears, and your nails dig in deeper into the painted wall. Who did they possibly find?

“You found ‘em. Shit.”

“That’s right. Now it’s time to give them what they deserve.”

You whip around the corner in a whirl and stomp into the room, arms crossed and on guard. Joel and Tommy snap their heads up, and Joel meets your eyes that are swirled with a look of desperation. A plea for him to trust you enough with whatever this is.

“You found who?” Your bottom lip trembles and your hands shake. You’re so fucking worked up over nothing.

“Oh—uhh.” Tommy looks from you and back to Joel, not able to make a decision.

“Tell me.” It isn’t a question but a demand. Not like you’re in a place to be demanding answers, but you deserve them. All the secrets Angela and her men kept left you vulnerable and in a dark place. And for fuck’s sake, you deserve to be told things.

Joel steps in and saves Tommy from the decision. “S’okay, Tommy. She has a right to know.” His dark eyes flick over Tommy and then back up at you, and they look a little softer when he’s specifically looking at you. “Some of the buyers. Tommy was able to track ‘em down. He was able to help shut down another auction last night, and some of the same men that were at yours were there.”

You stand there stunned and wide-eyed like you’re frozen to the wooden floor. Even… the blonde one?

Before you can ask, Tommy steps in. “Wasn’t jus’ me. My brother here helped. And some of our other men.”

Joel helped. But he was here? How could he…

“What umm—what happened?” you choke out. You can barely speak. Too stunned to barely even blink.

“Was able to take some of ‘em into custody. Got some of our other workers watchin’ ‘em. Makin’ sure they don’t see daylight again. Not until Joel—well, steps in.”

You drag your tongue gut wrenchingly slow over your bottom teeth and just stare with a locked jaw ahead at Joel. His eyes are the color of honey, fluorescent onyx swirling in those stormy eyes. But they’re still so fucking soft. Even though his jaw is clenched and his dark eyebrows are knit together.

He always looks at you so fucking soft. It’s hard not to just sink to the floor even though your heart is in your throat thinking about those filthy men.

“What guys exactly?” you grind out through your teeth.

Joel’s jaw clenches, his broad body becoming stiff and upright in the leather chair, palm raking heavily over his mouth. His dark, sad eyes tell you enough. He doesn’t even have to say anything for you to know who exactly he’s talking about. But you hold your breath nonetheless.

“The blonde…” he whispers out, his deep voice barely making a sound. But you hear it like a loud, booming crash of thunder as he nearly knocks you back two steps.

The blonde… the man that couldn’t fucking keep his hands off you. And those piercing blue eyes that dragged scars down your body.

Fright. Pain. Memories. You feel everything all at once. Suddenly, you don’t feel brave at all.

And then there’s Joel who’s looking at you like the lost kitten that you are.

“What about Angela or Garrett?” you spit out quickly, your hands trembling as every syllable scratches the surface. Their names feel like fire on the tip of your tongue.

“Haven’t been able to track ‘em down yet, sweetheart,” Joel sighs, his palm skimming over his patchy beard, brown eyes in a far away place.

“You mean they’re still out there somewhere…” you mutter, tears pricking at the back of your eyes just threatening to spill.

“S’alright. We’re gonna find ‘em. And when we do, you’ll be the first to know,” Joel confirms; Tommy nods beside him.

You and Joel continue watching each other, eyes never leaving one another. He looks like someone just stole the last piece of pizza from a box and tossed his dog out in the street. He looks just as wrecked as you do.

Lost. Abandoned. Betrayed.

You can’t seem to keep your footing, so you grab onto the railing of the staircase to keep yourself up. “I’m just—I’m going to go lay back down again.”

Joel gives you a nod, understanding hitting his dark brown eyes. He doesn’t want you to go back up just yet. “You gonna finish your pancakes?”

“Lost my appetite,” you shrug, your grip tightening against the smooth railing so you don’t fall back and crumble to the floor.

He looks at you for a good five seconds and nods, his jaw flexing slightly like he wants to reach out, but he doesn’t. “Alright, sweetheart. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay,” you shutter as you start to climb the marble steps.

“It was nice to meet you, darlin’. Take care now,” Tommy yells, but you don’t even stop to say goodbye to him because the tears come swimming in your vision.

By the time you get to your room, your eyes are heavy and blurry as tears stream down, tunneling your vision. You throw yourself against the sheets and get lost in the memories all over again.

There you are like a pretty diamond on display, men drooling and catcalling you as you cross the polished stage. And then the blonde’s hands are on you, his hot breath blowing down your breasts, hand sliding up the skirt of your dress, dipping underneath your lace. But Joel stopped him before he could go any further.

Joel stopped him.

You cry all over again from the night of the auction, the past hundreds of days you’ve been trafficked from state to state, not even knowing where you were most of the time. And then there was that house. That fucking rundown house where you were used and abused with the rest of the girls. Some didn’t even make it out alive…

You stay in the room the rest of the day. Mostly in bed. Except when you drag yourself up and force yourself to brush your teeth, wash your face, run the brush through your messy tangles. You need to do something other than rot in that big, comfy bed but for now, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

When 9:00 p.m. rolls around and the full moon is high in the sky, twinkling lights shining through the open window, Joel materializes in your doorway. Blue flannel buttoned up, hands deep in the pockets of his denim jeans, his greying curls disheveled, a concerned look on his tanned face. But the thing you notice is the jangle of keys in his pocket.

Why does it look like he’s leaving?

“Joel?” You yawn, rubbing the sleep from your tired eyes as you sit up.

“Hey, sweetheart. You still up?” Joel leans against the doorway, biceps flexing beneath his flannel, the black Rolex on his left wrist glistening under the dim hall lights.

“Mhm. Still up. Barely.” You yawn and push yourself up to where you’re leaning against the intricate headboard with gold flecks splashed into the dark wood.

“Listen, there’s somethin’ I gotta take care of tonight. Should only be gone for a few hours but—”

You flinch at his words and swallow the lump that’s forming in the back of your throat. He can’t just leave. Not in the state you’re in. “You’re leaving me here? All alone? What if—”

He shifts his weight and takes a step forward, barely breaching inside your room. “S’alright. Maria, Tommy’s wife, is gonna come over while I’m gone. Didn’t think you’d be comfortable bein’ alone, and she was my next best thing. If you’re okay with that.”

You sit there tumbling his words over again in your head, repeating what he said. He’s not leaving you alone with a man but a woman. He thought you’d be more comfortable that way. Even though you don’t know her, Tommy was nice enough, or so it seemed. And if Joel trusts Tommy enough to be around you, then you think you’d be okay with Maria.

“I think so,” you muster out.

His chocolate eyes soften, and the crow’s feet pull tighter as a small smile spreads across his mouth. “Good. That’s good.”

“Where are you going?” you ask, cocking your head to the side as you watch him stiffen up at the question.

“Jus’ ‘bout forty minutes south of here. Shouldn’t take me too long.” He doesn’t answer specifically what he’s doing, but you have a feeling that it involves the blonde man that haunts your dreams.

“Is it dangerous?” You shift in the sheets and pull the velvety blanket tighter under your chin.

“Not tonight it ain’t.” He hesitates a little, and that makes you wonder if he’s not telling you everything because he doesn’t want to set you off again.

“Only a few hours?” you ask softer, voice low as your stomach twists and turns.

“Only a few,” he confirms.

“Okay.”

He hooks his thumb around one of his belt loops and pushes his other hand through his tousled curls, his brown eyes never leaving yours. There’s something heavy in his stare, but you can’t quite place what it is.

“Well, go on and get some rest, sweetheart. Shouldn’t be much longer until Maria gets here. I’ll introduce you before I leave for the night. But for now, I’ll let you sleep.”

You sink back under the sheets and get comfortable, the nightlight plugged into the wall the only thing glowing except the dim lights in the hall. As he turns to walk out, you stop him. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” He turns and smiles, and you can’t help but to feel a little flutter in your heart. He really has a beautiful smile.

“Promise me you’ll come back.” Your eyebrows thread together in concern, fingers curled firmly under the sheets.

“I promise,” he nods, flashing you another smile. There’s no lie in those brown eyes of his.

“Okay.” You give him a tight-lipped grin and let out another yawn, sleep about to take hold of you once again.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He pulls the door closed and when it shuts with a soft click, you call out goodnight too.

In another half hour Maria gets to the house, and you get a brief introduction with her. But sleep is all you can think about, except for Joel leaving. You don’t want to think about that, so you fall back into bed and force yourself to succumb to the darkness. Maybe when you wake up then Joel will be back home.

Please, come back.

Joel makes his way into the private warehouse, one that’s small and tucked away north of Austin. No one ever lurks around these parts. If they did, Joel would know instantly because there’s cameras all around the perimeters.

The metal door slams closed as he stalks in, pushing past empty boxes and wooden crates that sit scattered next to dusty shelves. He pushes himself forward deep into the warehouse, close to the back where he knows the fucker is at. He’s going to fucking rip his icy blonde hair from the scalp and kill him for what he did to you and every other girl he’s gotten his filthy hands on.

Blood boils like lava in his veins and his hands are fisted at his sides, ready to finish what he should’ve that night of the auction. One punch wasn’t enough. Not when he was defiling you like a dog.

Joel hates him and everything he stands for. But tonight, Carter Williams wouldn’t get away with what he’s done. No. Joel would end him.

The dim lights overhead pop and flicker, anger brimming in his blood-red eyes. When’s the last time he got a full night’s rest? Not since he rescued you. No. He’s been too worried sick over you.

God. He’s never going to get the memory of how absolutely terrified you looked that first night. Won’t ever get the image of your pretty eyes filled with tears, blood running down your soft skin all because he wouldn’t call you a whore and wouldn’t dare ask you to get on your knees.

Goddamn it. He won’t ever forget that. He wants to strangle every single fucking person that ever gave you that mindset. Wants to completely ruin them for making you feel like all you were worth was for getting used and abused by disgusting men.

You’re not any of those things they made you believe. You’re a beautiful, broken woman that needs time to heal and fall in love with life again. He’ll help you get there as much as he can. He thinks he’d do just about anything for you and those big doe eyes.

Fuck. He’s going to break every single one of them. Starting with Carter.

As Joel rounds the corner and kicks a metal pole forcefully, he comes face to face with Carter. The fucker that’s going to die tonight.

His hands sit bound behind him tightly. Wrists, ankles, and chest restrained around the cold metal chair with sharp-edged rope. Blonde hair is slicked back with a tinge of blood perspiring down his sweat-drenched forehead. His stormy eyes widen when he sees Joel appear before him like a dark shadow.

“You!” Carter accuses, glowering at Joel who lives a double life night after night. “You were the one at the auction!”

Joel crosses his arms across his broad chest and smirks, eyes darkening as he focuses on the man that caused you pain. It makes his fingers twitch from anger. “I was.”

“Let me go, man! I didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve got the wrong guy,” Carter shouts, twisting in his confines, thinking he can escape his restraints. He’s not getting that lucky tonight.

“Didn’t do anything wrong, huh?” Joel asks, raking his fingers slowly through his patchy beard, trying to hold on for just one more second before he explodes with rage. He chuckles and shakes his head in unbelief, and then he throws a punch against Carter’s jaw. Blood spews from his mouth and lands across Joel’s button-up, but he could care less at the moment.

“Shit! What was that for?” Carter chokes out, a purplish, red tinge bruising his now swollen face.

“That’s for touchin’ what doesn’t belong to you,” he scowls, jaw locked tight like a hidden safe.

“Oh, I see. This is about that bitch you bought,” Carter spits.

Joel jumps as fast as lightning and grabs Carter by the throat, his hold firm as he squeezes just enough to get his point across. “Call her that one more time and see what happens,” he warns, glaring at the pathetic man who got caught.

Carter gasps for air the second Joel releases his hold and howls out a raspy laugh that sounds like poison to Joel’s ears. When he finds his voice again, he smirks like the bad guy that he is. “Go on then. Do your worst. I’ve already seen her on video. Legs spread, tight pussy being fucked by some—”

Joel takes the back of his hand and smacks him across the cheek so hard that blood spews from his mouth. “I said shut the fuck up!” he screams, his angry words echoing around the walls of the stuffy warehouse.

He’s going to fucking kill Carter. One more word and he’ll end it with the snap of his finger. He just needs that tiny push over the edge. One more revolting comment about you and his life is over.

Hell, it is already over.

Joel paces back and forth uncontrollably in front of the man whose face looks like it’s been through a bar fight. His hands clenched into tight fists at his side, jaw locked, narrowed eyes that could kill with a single stare. He’s livid, way over the edge of being angry. He could kill a whole goddamn room of traffickers and buyers at this rate. If more were here, they’d be finished.

Carter rudely interrupts Joel’s chaotic thoughts and murmurs lowly. “Is she really worth the trouble, man? What? You gonna beat me to death because of her? She’s not worth it.”

“She’s worth everything!” he shouts, his deep growl echoing around the room. He can almost feel his blood boiling beneath him like he’s already on fucking fire.

“So, this is what it’s about? You want to ruin me because I tried ruining her,” he chuckles darkly, like he has no remorse in any stiff bone in his body.

Fucking bastard.

“It’s part of it,” Joel says with a clipped tone, his fingernails digging into the denim of his pockets like he’s about to rip them clear off.

He needs to calm down, but he can’t. Not when he’s in the presence of a beast who tried to dig his claws into your delicate skin. So, he won’t be calm. He’ll be chaotic instead.

“Don’t act like you know me,” Carter shakes his head, tendrils of smeared red strands falling over his cloudy eyes.

“Oh, I fuckin’ know you alright. Read up on your filthy past,” he growls. “How many women have you taken? How many have you kidnapped, raped, murdered? How many did you fuckin’ wreck? More than ten, you son of a bitch,” he storms, kicking over an empty bucket and cursing under his breath when he walks off the pain that spreads like wildfire through his foot.

“Was worth it, and I’d do it all over again,” Carter replies with a smirk.

That does it. Something snaps inside Joel. Hard. A feral growl leaves his throat and then he’s jumping in front of Carter, his hand wrapping tightly around his neck until he sees red flash in Carter’s dead eyes.

“You sick fuck. You know what I do to men like you?” he screams, wrath swirling off his tongue and making his fingers curl extremely tight around Carter’s pale skin.

Carter hacks violently under Joel’s grip. He’s only able to get dry coughs and garbled words out until Joel backs off just enough to where he can speak. “What, kill them? Go ahead. Fucking kill me. It won’t make a goddamn difference because there’s one of me all over these states. And the trafficking isn’t going to stop with me. The buying isn’t going to stop. It’ll keep happening over and over and over again.”

Joel fists Carter’s short locks until he’s cringing in pain, snarling a pit bull glare into his piercing blue eyes that are laced with pain.

“Well, it ain’t gonna hurt when you’re dead and buried six feet under the ground!” Joel says with bared teeth, blowing hot air into Carter’s clenched face.

“You can’t save all of them, you know. You can’t save her.”

That strikes a nerve in Joel, a sharp ache stabbing him directly in the middle of the chest. He drops his tight hold on Carter and takes a step back, eyes blown wide with guilt.

He couldn’t save them all. He didn’t… he couldn’t. He couldn’t save her. But through all the pain that’s flaring in his body, all the lost souls that he’ll never be able to avenge, one thing still rings clear. He saved you… when he couldn’t even save himself. But he still saved you.

He takes a deep breath and lets out a long sigh, holding back tears he refuses to shed. He’s not a weak man, but he’s so weak for you.

“I have to try…” he whispers, his voice broken and muddled against the slight echo and dripping sounds from the leak in the ceiling.

For a moment it’s silent, only the screaming voices in his head breaking the stillness. He almost forgets that Carter’s there, until he hears his choppy voice gritting against his eardrums.

“You’re going to fail, you know,” Carter whispers, taunting him again with the rasp of his throat.

“What did you say?” Joel asks, whipping around to face the blue eyes of a killer. A killer he’ll surely strangle to death.

“You’re going to fail her. You’re going to fail her so hard that she goes running when you try to fix her. She’s beyond repair, and you know it,” he spits out, smirking like a madman who’s lying through his bloody teeth.

“No, she ain’t,” Joel snaps, eyes narrowed and fists clenched at his sides.

“Yeah, she fucking is. You know how many men fucked and abused her? Do you know what her handlers put her through? Do you know how many women she’s seen murdered right in front of her eyes?”

“I fuckin’ know enough! So jus’ stop! Jus’ shut your fuckin’ mouth!” He’s way past angry. He feels feral with the need to choke this man out just to silence him enough to where he won’t hear how broken you really are. Joel knows this. He knows the unimaginable pain you’ve been through. The abuse, the torture. They tried to fucking destroy you, and this fucker was one of them.

“I was going to give her a nice home, you know. Yeah. Was going to treat her real nice. Like a brand new dog. Maybe teach her some table manners. Bitches always get on their knees before their meal is served,” Carter chortles with wicked eyes. Eyes that could burn icy flames out of those hellish blue pits. But Joel would burn them out first. Maybe jab a knife through his skull. He wasn’t about to let Carter win this war.

“Fuckin’ stop,” Joel warns with a deep scowl, teeth clenched as he fists the front of Carter’s blood-soaked shirt.

He slips the semi-automatic handgun from the back pocket of his jeans and triggers the safety off. His arm darts out as he shoves the barrel of the gun to Carter’s sweat-soaked forehead, daring him to say one more goddamn thing about you. He swears he’ll shoot. He won’t even flinch. Not when it comes to protecting you.

He only needs one fucking reason to blow Carter’s head off, but he has more than enough reasons now. “I swear to God if you don’t stop—.”

Carter gives Joel a devious smirk as he watches Joel’s finger hover over the trigger. He knows Joel won’t hesitate. He’s just pushing him to the edge until he snaps.

“You want me to stop? Not until you hear all the filthy ways I was going to fuck—”

“I said enough!” Joel seethes, anger taking over every single nerve ending in his body until he completely snaps. He pulls the trigger and watches the bullet fly through Carter’s forehead, spewing blood all over the front of Joel’s button-up, sloshing droplets of crimson on his wrinkled forehead. He’s too worked up and furious to even care.

He’s fucking wrecked.

He steps away from the pool of blood at his feet, teeth bared as he clicks the safety on, sliding the gun into his back pocket once again. But this time, blood is smeared across the metal barrel, reminding him of the mess he just made.

His head is fuzzy, shapes foggy, and he’s got a raging migraine that could take him to his knees in an instant. He needs sleep, needs to wash off the blood of the day, bask in the darkness where he lingers most sleepless nights. He needs to get a handle on this grief that eats him alive night after night. But he can’t. And ever since he took one look at you, his mind has barely thought of anything else.

Scared. You were so fucking scared. The way you walked sheepishly across that stage, high heels dragging while you held back muted tears. And in that moment, he wanted to kill every goddamn man in that room of sinners.

Isn’t that what he’s doing now? Avenging you and every other girl those vile men did unspeakable things to. He’s going to fucking…

“Joel?”

Joel’s name pulls him out of the fog just long enough to realize Jimmy, one of his workers, was calling his name.

“Clean up this mess. I can’t be here right now. Gotta get home,” Joel replies quickly, voice strained as he clenches his jaw tight.

“Sir, you good?” Jimmy tries again, dark eyes trying to read Joel.

“I’m fine. Call me when you’re done here. Make sure no trace is left.” He walks out of the room, passing a few of his other workers until he’s making his way out of the stuffy building, letting the door slam behind him with a bang.

Once he’s in his truck and turning the key in the ignition, he slams on the gas and makes a run for it, leaving behind the giant mess he just caused. Carter was going to end up dead either way. Joel just decided he couldn’t stand another fucking word out of that bastard’s mouth.

He clenches the leather steering wheel so tightly that he leaves claw marks in the black material. A hand rakes slowly down his patchy beard, trying his best to alleviate some of the rage, but nothing helps. Maybe seeing that you’re sleeping peacefully tonight might help him calm down a bit. Maybe just maybe you’d be the cure to his never-ending suffering.

When he pulls up in the long driveway and kills the gas, he hops out and rushes to the front door, barely stopping at the bottom of the stairs to even say hi to Maria. Right now he just needs to see you. Needs to make sure you’re still breathing, still in one piece, still alive.

“Whoa there. Everything go okay?” Maria asks as she shoots off the leather couch and paces toward Joel, a look of worry flashing across her wide eyes.

“As good as it could’ve,” Joel rasps, wiping the dried blood from his forehead.

Maria looks him up and down, taking in the stained flannel and tendrils of messy curls that stick to his sweaty skin. “By the looks of your shirt and your face, guess you got him.”

He nods, letting the ice settle deep in his bones. “I got the son of a bitch alright,” he growls.

Maria stares at him with concern swirling in her dark eyes, her body stiff as she folds her arms over her chest to take a good look at him. As if she’s just seen death in his hazy eyes. “Hey. You alright? You look—”

“Tired? That’s ’cause I am,” he sighs, lacing his fingers back through his dark locks.

But the wavering stare she gives him makes it seem like tired isn’t the word she was going for. Defeated might’ve been a better word. Because right now that’s exactly how he feels.

Destroyed.

“I’ll just get out of your hair,” she murmurs, leaving him with a light pat to the back of his shoulder. But before she can grab her keys off the coffee table, he stops her.

“Maria, wait. Thank you. For watchin’ her for a few hours.” He gives her a tight-lipped smile, and she nods back in return.

“It was no trouble, Joel.”

“How is she?” he asks, letting the stuffy air settle while she shifts her weight on the wooden floor.

“She’s sleeping. She’s fine,” she confirms with a smile.

He lets a puff of air leave his lungs, thankful you’re safe and sleeping.

“Good. That’s good. Thank you, again. I really appreciate it, Maria. I know it was last minute and all.”

She presses a palm into his bicep, giving it a light squeeze, letting him know it’s all fine. “It was really no problem, Joel. Whenever you need me to come back over, I won’t even hesitate.”

Joel nods in thanks, letting her walk toward the front door. But before she decides to leave, she turns and leaves him with one more thing. “She’s a lovely girl, Joel. Nice, sweet, a little shy. She’s lucky you found her.”

His spine goes stiff, a lingering sensation crawling up his skin, bubbling its way into his brain. She’s lucky you found her.

“Yeah… she is.”

“Well, goodnight. I’m going to head back home to Tommy. I’ll see you later.” She makes her way out the door, the lock clicking in place once she’s gone.

“Night, Maria…” he finally croaks out, throat suddenly tight as he hears the creak of bed springs and a tiny whimper float down the end of the hallway upstairs.

He rakes a hand slowly down his patchy beard, sighing as he climbs the marble staircase. He’s prepared for another restless night, knowing you’ve been having nightmares every single night since you’ve been here. Every single time he makes sure to check on you, wake you from your violent nightmares. And every fucking time you wake up with bloodshot and tear-soaked eyes, it makes him want to wrap you in his arms until he can soothe the nightmares away. But he can’t. He just can’t.

When he makes it up the staircase and down the hall, his foot hits a particularly creaky spot in the floor, and he curses under his breath when he hears you shift in the bed and stir awake.

“Joel?”

Fuck. He didn’t want to wake you. He didn’t want you to see him like this. Looking just as much of a monster as Carter did.

The blood. It’s going to fucking terrify you. And that’s the last thing he wants. You to be scared of him. He doesn’t want you to fear him because he’d never ever hurt you. Never dare lay his fingers on you without your consent. He’d rather chop his own hand off with a dull blade.

But you’d still be scared either way. Blood or not.

He takes a deep breath and spins around, hovering in your open doorway and giving you a strained smile. “Hey, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fine. I was just…” You gasp, eyes wide and wild as you take in his bloodied flannel and disheveled hair. “Your shirt. The blood. Are you hurt?” You look scared, worried, and it makes his heart clench at the sight. You don’t need another thing to worry about. He’ll be fine, even if he doesn’t feel fine.

“Nah. It’s—not mine,” he stills, fingers clenched around the stained material.

You knit your brows together, studying him closely as you analyze the splattered blood stains on his cotton material. “Whose is it then?”

He flinches, not wanting to tell you what he did. Even if Carter deserved a thousand deaths, each one worse than the other, he doesn’t know how you’ll respond to this. He doesn’t want you afraid.

He takes another deep breath, inhaling as much oxygen as his lungs can take in. Because in the next moment, he might not have any left.

Carefully, hesitantly he lets his raspy voice choke out. “Oh. It’s ummm. It’s the blonde’s blood…”

You still, eyes blown wide, mouth dropped open like you’ve just been shocked by lightning. Your body becomes stiff, as stiff as a wooden board, fingers curling nervously against the lavender comforter. You look lost, wading off into the distant sea, waves carrying you far far away until he can’t reach you anymore. Until the sea swallows you whole.

Damn it.

“Oh. Oh… I see,” you whisper out, jaw tight as your eyes travel up to his.

Jesus. Those fucking sad eyes. It could bring a man to their knees. They’d bring him to his knees.

“What was his name?” you ask hesitantly.

“Sweetheart. I don’t think—”

“Tell me,” you plead adamantly. “Please...” Your voice is a breath of a whisper, just loud enough to stir a hurricane inside his hollow chest.

And then he breaks as a wave of grief washes over his slack jaw.

“His name was Carter,” he finally says, breath shaky as his eyes momentarily fall to the dark wood, until he’s looking right back at you and those fucking eyes that are full of fear and hurt.

“So he’s dead?” you ask muffledly, your features frayed as you contemplate his answer.

“Yes,” he confirms, his blood-stained shirt suddenly feeling too suffocating and tight, like someone is trying to strangle him to death.

Another beat of silence falls over the dark room casted in shadows, ghosts of green trees swaying in the moonlight behind the glass window that overlooks the slumbering forest.

You lick your bottom lip slowly, fingers twisted against the sheets, your eyes looking vacant and lost as you contemplate. “How many—how many women.”

He knows exactly what you’re asking. How many women has he hurt, killed, mutilated to shreds.

“More than a dozen…” he says calmly, his fists tight at his sides as the flash of a bullet and blood invade his thoughts.

You slowly nod and curl in on yourself, your knees folding into your chest, blanket tucked up under your chin, your eyes vacant as he sees your trembling form relive the past all over again.

He can’t see you like this. Like you’re being tortured all over again. Like there’s not a single thing he can do right at this moment to make you feel better. He wants to wrap you in his arms, tell you it’ll be okay, that no one will ever hurt you again. He wants to take the pain away from you; suck it all out so he can carry the burden instead of you.

You… how could they ever hurt you? You’re too… special. They took everything from you. Took every last fucking piece until you were left on the floor like a broken vase, glass shards unrecognizable until all the glitter and shine was scraped off and covered in dirt. They wrecked you, and he fucking hates them for it.

Diamonds aren’t supposed to break or lose their shine. They’re meant to be treasured, taken care of, meant to never be broken. But you… you’re so very broken. And all he knows at this moment is that he’d do anything to see you smile again. He’d do anything to put all the shattered pieces together until you’re sparkling like glitter even in the darkness.

“Are you… okay?” he asks hesitantly, like he might crack you like the spine of a new book if he talks too loudly.

“I’m… yeah. I’m okay,” you reply with a muted response, lips quivering, tears licking at the edges of your waterline. You’re not okay. You’re far from okay, but you put on a brave face anyway. Even if you’re lying through your teeth. You want to be okay, so that’s what you say. Maybe if you let the words fall off your quivering lips then you’ll believe them.

But he knows the truth. You’re fragmented and defeated. This much he does know.

When you look up with tears welling in your eyes, he freezes, jaw clenched as he stares at the face of a woman who had her entire life ripped from her own hands. Hands that were never meant to be ripped open and scarred from filth and grime. Your life was never theirs to take, but they took it anyway.

Your big doe eyes sear into him, splitting him in two until he feels pain radiate down his chest, suffocating his insides like oxygen is being stolen from his lungs.

Stop that. Stop looking at me like you want me to fix you. Like you want me to wrap you up in my arms until all the pain is gone. That’s what he sees when you look at him like that. Like you want him to make it all just stop. Drown the noise out until you can’t hear the world tilt on its axis anymore. Until you just feel peace.

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him with those beautiful doe eyes, your held back tears making them glitter in the moonlight. God, he’s never seen such big sad eyes. Eyes that could make a grown man crumble into tiny pieces by both heartbreak and awe.

He can’t fix you, can’t make the pain stop, can’t wipe your memories from the hell you’ve managed to survive the past almost two years. He can’t even… fuck. He can’t even hold you the way you should be held. Gentle, tender, affectionate. That’s what you deserve. And he can’t fucking do that because you’re so traumatized and fragile that even one light caress would send you into an unbreakable panic attack.

He just… cares. He cares a lot. And there’s nothing much he can do except slowly show you how good life can be again. He just wants to see you smile. And that’d be enough. That’s honestly all he wants — you happy again. He knows you can bloom. And one day you will. Just like a pretty sunflower that thrives in the giant Texas fields.

One day you’re going to be that sunflower. And he’ll be there to see you blossom and sprout.

They might have cut down your stems, ripped out your strong roots, destroyed your green leaves, crushed your beautiful bright petals. Making sure to kill everything that was good inside you, but Joel would replant you. He’d watch you grow until you bloomed into the most lavish garden he’s ever seen in his entire life.

You’re going to thrive. One day at a time, you will get your petals back. He’ll put his life on that promise.

The weight of your heavy stare and the thick fog that hangs in your room makes him dizzy, makes him a little off kilter every time you flash your teary eyes his way. He can’t see you cry. Not right now. Because then he’d want to wrap you so tight in his arms that all your pain would fade away. But he can’t do that, and he knows it. So, he’ll do the only thing he can before he breaks in two himself.

Leave. Not the perimeters of the house, just your stifling room.

“I’m gonna jus’—go lay down. You know where to find me if you need me,” he mutters under his breath, his hand finding the edge of your solid door until your shaky breath stops him cold.

“Joel?”

He can barely turn his head, too afraid that if he looks at you one more time tonight that he’ll finally crack. “Yeah?” he chokes out.

“Thank you…”

One more look at your starry doe eyes and he’s gone.

His hand finds the cold doorknob while he gives you a tight-lipped smile and gently closes the door behind him. Your wide doe eyes will surely haunt his dreams tonight. If he even gets any sleep. He thinks he won’t, even if his body is screaming at him, wanting to drag him down until he sees nothing but the backs of his dark eyes.

When he finally releases his hand from the doorknob, he stops in his tracks, back suddenly rigid when he hears the faint sounds of your voice cracking, finally letting the tears shed from your eyes. The sound nearly takes him to his knees.

He slides down to the ground, back flush to the closed door, sinking lower until he’s sitting against the hard floor feeling completely defeated. He feels as if a large anchor got thrown down on him, chaining him to the cold wood, imprisoning him to hear your muffled cries through the cracks in the walls.

He’s so fucking weak. Every part of him is telling him to run into your room, take the pad of his thumb and wipe the tears from your eyes, hold you against his firm chest until you’re quiet and calm, until he can rock you to sleep and take every ounce of pain you feel.

But instead, he sits there like a fool with his head hanging low between his thighs, elbows resting on his aching knees, fingers lacing roughly through his mess of greying curls. He needs to get a grip on himself, needs to find just one speck of courage to drag himself to his room. But he finds none, letting the grief and despair chain him right against your door.

He can’t stay like this forever. Can’t stay glued to this spot where he can hear you cry yourself to sleep. But he just can’t shake how scared and vulnerable you looked the moment he told you about Carter. Or yet, even just the look on your face when he walked over and you asked if he was hurt.

He is hurt and he feels a sharp blade slicing straight down his spine, opening him up and cutting out his nerve endings until he can’t feel the weight of those sad fucking doe eyes.

Your pain is now his because he feels everything that you keep bottled up inside. Just like spilled perfume, he’ll soak you up until your pain is no more. He’ll swallow all of it like a spoonful of cough syrup until every last drop is gone.

After half an hour of sulking on the floor, your cries die out, and then you’re sound asleep, escaping your pain for just a little while. Until the nightmares run rampant. So, he drags himself to his room, doesn’t even bother shedding his clothes, too tired to do anything but sleep. And when he falls into his bed, he instantly passes out and lets the pain swallow him whole.

The last words he hears echoing in his head are ear splitting. You can’t save all of them, you know. You can’t save her.

But he’ll try. One way or another, he promises to save you.

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sugrhigh · 7 months ago

Text

RUMORS - ( c.s )

REQUESTED**

summary: you and chris have known each other for a long time, and you’ve always had an inescapable crush on him. when you all go to tara’s party and fans see them together for the first time, speculation begins to circulate, and you begin to pull away in fear that he likes her as more than a friend

warnings: angsty in the beginning, fluffy in the end :) some swearing a kiss and that’s it really

bff!chris x fem!reader

a/n: i loved this concept and i hope i brought it to life well for the anon that requested <3 my inbox is always open for u guys #kisses

@fawnchives @l9vesick @mattinside @sturnioloco @sturniolossss @cupidsword @teapartyprincess4two @princessbetsy123-blog @cookiehaos @sturnlova @junnniiieee07 @vsangel-starbies @chrissystur

doom scrolling online is like a car crash that you can’t look away from; especially when it involves your friend and your long term crush. you’ve been laying in bed scouring the internet for the past hour, pouring over comments about and tara and chris.

ever since her last party, when fans actually saw them publicly interacting for the first time, the gossip has gotten out of control. people want them together, and you hate to admit that it makes you sick to your stomach.

hell, you’d been the one to introduce them, since tara had become your friend first. but you and chris go all the way back to childhood; you were best friends with him and his brothers in your early years of school, and then you moved to another town after your dad accepted a new position.

you kept in touch through social media and occasional texts after that, until you all found yourselves in LA fresh out of high school, alone in an unfamiliar city across the country.

their youtube channel had taken off, and you’d gained a large following after you’d finally been recognized for your photography due to some big-name collabs. you were all in the same vulnerable position, and because of this your friendship with the three of them started right back up where it left off.

the rest is history. it’s been two years now, and you’ve all grown exponentially, fully adjusted to LA and the recognition, comfortable with where you are in your lives professionally and personally.

you spend nearly every week with the triplets, doing anything and everything together. they’ve made the occasional homesickness bearable, been your rock through the hard times, and supported you like no one else.

but things are a little different with you and chris. he’s your best friend, the person you want to tell everything to first. it’s always been that way, really. you had feelings for him at 13, and now at 20 years old you love him even more.

but that doesn’t mean you have to love him being shipped with every female influencer on the planet.

it’s selfish, really, to want chris to yourself, considering his occupation and the fame that comes with it. tara is a good person and an even better friend, and you shouldn’t be angry over the idea of them dating.

still, it’s been consuming your mind ever since you saw the first post about the two of them a few days ago, and you’ve been checking social media every hour since.

you’re about to read through yet another comment section when your phone buzzes, a notification appearing at the top of the screen.

chris

can you pls answer me

i don’t like this silent treatment thing

your stomach flips. he’s been texting you things like this for the past few days, since you started distancing yourself after the party.

the whole night he had acted as if he was into tara; always making conversation, asking to dance, posting her on his story. even when you were right next to him, it still felt like he was miles away.

so of course it’s been upsetting you, and you figured rather than taking it out on either of them you would just remove yourself from the situation.

it seemed like the best option in the moment, but it still sucks. you hate not talking to him, not seeing his face or feeling his arms wrap around you in a familiar hug.

another text pings, snapping you out of your spiral once more.

chris

i don’t know what’s wrong but you’re scaring me

the message makes your eyes burn, and you blink away the tears. you don’t want him worrying about you, especially when it’s your own stupid feelings getting in the way of things being normal.

you sigh, tapping out a response and staring at it, debating back and forth whether you should actually press send. but he beats you to a response, and another string of texts come through.

chris

i can see you typing

i’m coming over

y/n

no don’t do that, everything is fine

chris

i don’t believe you

and i already left my house

it’s only a five minute walk to get from his place to yours, and you know he’s too stubborn to actually turn around, no matter how hard you plead. you’ve already broken out into a nervous sweat just thinking about the confrontation.

but at this point you owe it to him and yourself to be honest. you just hope you don’t get your heart broken in the process.

y/n

fine, doors unlocked

i’m in my room

a few minutes later you hear the front door slam open and closed, just to see chris peek his head around the corner of your room moments later. you’re still curled up in bed, too scared and tired to move, so he takes the liberty of coming to you.

“hey.” he says softly as he sits down.

“hi.” you mumble, wrapping your blanket against your chest tighter.

it’s not cold, but you’re so anxious that you’re shivering. chris notices and puts a hand on your covered knee, rubbing small circles against the joint. he looks so sweet, clad in his blue fresh love hoodie with his hair all curly from showering.

“what’s up? i haven’t heard from you all week, and nick was about ready to call the cops.” he tries to joke with a small grin.

you can’t bring yourself to match his energy, and your face remains grave as you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat.

“i’m alright, just tired.”

his face falls, and a slight frown replaces his smile. you know he’s not believing any of it for a second, and you’ve never been a very convincing liar.

“don’t do that, you’re obviously not alright. and i’m not trying to be pushy or anything, but i feel like you’re shutting me out.” chris replies quietly.

you shift a little bit so you can sit up properly, back resting against the headboard as you gaze at him. his hand remains on your thigh, a source of comfort while you try to pick your words wisely.

“i’m not trying to push you away, chris. i just…wanted to give you space.” you continue to dance around the truth.

he looks even more confused, eyebrows furrowed like you’re speaking another language. “that’s nice and all, but i don’t want it.”

“well maybe i do.” you shrug.

you’re lying through your teeth, but chris’s eyes go wide regardless. you’ve shocked him into silence, which rarely ever happens. he’s just staring at you, the gears in his mind turning as he tries to figure out what could possibly be wrong.

“are you serious? did i do something that i don’t know about?” chris asks, clearly exasperated.

he removes his hand from your leg, dropping it back in his lap. the small act alone makes your heart sink, and you feel the question crawling its way out of your mouth before you can help it.

“do you like tara?”

it hangs in the air, and you’ve stumped him once again. chris shakes his head, clearing his throat while his face reddens slightly.

“i can’t believe you’re even asking me that.” he sounds genuinely astonished.

“what? why?” it’s your turn to be baffled.

“because i feel like all i ever do is flirt with you. i mean seriously, it’s embarrassing for me at this point.” chris reaches to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly.

your jaw drops, which makes you feel silly. throughout this whole relationship you felt like you were the one putting the moves on him, doing too much. you’d never once stopped to think about all of the little comments he would make.

“i, uh, guess i didn’t pick up on that.” you manage to reply.

you immediately wish you hadn’t, that you just kept your mouth shut. but he smiles widely at you, chuckling lightly.

“no shit.”

this makes you laugh too, and it feels good to experience at least a brief moment of normality between the two of you. things have felt tense for so long that you’d almost forgotten why you love being around chris in the first place.

you wait to calm down a bit before you decide to finally lay it all on the table. “i like you a lot, chris. and i don’t want to mess up the dynamic we have, because you mean the world to me. but i’d be lying to myself if i said i didn’t want to be with you.”

he’s still grinning, though you can tell he’s gone a little shy now hearing you admit your feelings. this moment is all he dreamed about for so long, and now it’s finally happening in a realm outside of his own brain.

“i want that too, and i’m a dumbass for taking this long to say it. so no, i’m not interested in tara like that. it’s always been you.” chris confesses, reaching to interlock your fingers.

you’ve held hands before on many occasions, but it’s different now in the best way. butterflies erupt in your stomach as he leans in, and you can smell the fading hints of minty body wash on his skin.

you tilt your head so your mouths finally meet, soft and slow as you both finally enjoy the kiss you’ve been yearning for for so long. he tastes sugary, like the lollipops he’s always got between his teeth, and you’re already addicted.

chris pulls away a minute later, his lips reddened and glistening from the contact. you giggle slightly from the unfamiliarity of the situation, glancing down at your linked hands.

“your lips are so soft.” he praises, still awestruck that he finally got to kiss the girl he’s loved since he was a preteen.

“take a girl out to dinner first, jeez.” you joke playfully.

chris rolls his eyes, but he smiles nonetheless. “i think i will, actually. you got any plans tomorrow?”

you tap your chin with your free hand like you’re contemplating your schedule. “i can probably squeeze you in.”

“you better. everyone else can get in line.”

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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satoruhour · 1 year ago

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☆˖⁺ ☁⋆ masterlist under construction! 。⋆༶⸜ 🎧

♱ hello! welcome to the main masterlist where each character i write for will be listed below. i currently only write for jujutsu kaisen. another reminder: please have your age in your bio or i’m blocking. doesn’t matter if you only like my posts, i still monitor it closely and i can’t stand ageless / blank blogs following me.

STRONGEST SORCERER ♱ GOJO SATORU

CURSE MANIPULATOR ♱ GETO SUGURU

SEVEN THREE RATIO ♱ NANAMI KENTO

THE ASSASSIN ♱ FUSHIGURO TOJI

RYOMEN SUKUNA

drabbles / thirsts:

headcanons / bulletpoint pieces:

fics:

rewards from a racer (m)

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

drabbles:

library studies w/ megumi (f)

first kiss w/ megumi (f)

late night drift with megumi (f)

headcanons / bulletpoint pieces:

fics:

ITADORI YUJI

drabbles:

headcanons / bulletpoint pieces:

fics:

CHOSO KAMO

drabbles / thirsts:

best friend’s bro or bro’s best friend? (f)

headcanons / bulletpoint pieces:

fics:

thank u for checking me out once again, pls enjoy ur stay and have fun reading ☆ !!!! — s

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airbendertendou · 5 months ago

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SOMETHING SOMBER TO MiSS! ♥︎ chishiya shuntaro

synopsis : three years after breaking up, your ex-boyfriend seems appalled by how you've changed, and the new company you keep.

recomended songs — exes, tate mccrae ; bibi vengance, bibi ; diablo, lexie liu ; 505, arctic monkeys

cw ; typical aib death nd gore ; reader is a physical fighter nd i wont apologize abt it ; the militants themselves lmao ; oblivious reader who holds everyones attention <3

TAGLIST : @chaotickyrith @valleyofheartz

♧ ♡ if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked. ♢ ♤

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ —

Oil fries in the pan as you flip the meat you're cooking, the side dishes already prepared and ready to eat. You hum with a nod, satisfied with the spread you've cooked — happy the recipes you read came in handy and turned out well.

The front door slides open and a smile falls onto your lips unconciously. You don't turn from the stove as you speak, "welcome home, Shuntaro!"

He grunts in response, kicking his shoes off and throwing his work bag to the side. Sliding up beside you, Chishiya eyes the food you cooked curiously, nodding his head the way you did earlier. You grin, "hard day? Did they let you work with patients today?"

"Still a student, technically," he responds. Chishiya grabs the cutlery you need, filling one cup with your drink and the other with his own. He grabs one of the dishes, absentmindedly setting it on the table. "Proabaly won't be around people for a while still."

You frown, following behind him. "That sucks. You're the smartest person in that building."

The left side of his lips quirk up, "thank you."

Hitting his arm lightly, you can't fight your own grin. "As if I needed to inflate your ego anymore."

The only sound is your eating — conversation with Chishiya never felt needed. You often found comfort in his silence ; found it easy to be in his presence. When your food is finished and you're washing the dishes, you notice him lingering in the doorway. You let him take his time — sometimes, your boyfriend simply needed a moment or two before his thoughts could escape his head.

But, he never spoke up. Chishiya simply stood there, staring at you and through you simultaneously. You blinked at him, hands still soapy, "everything okay, 'taro?"

“Let’s break up.”

You pause, a wobbly smile masking the strain in your throat. You face him fully, “what?”

“Let’s break up.” He doesn't meet your eyes as he speaks. He looks over your shoulder — looks to the pictures of you together throughout the two years you'd been dating.

“…why?” You wipe your hands dry, hoping to hide how they tremble. Chishiya eyes them through furrowed eyes — he noticed. You hide them helplessly anyways.

He shrugs passively, “I’m bored.”

“And nothing I say will change your mind?” It's now that he meets your gaze. It's dark — empty as he looks at you. Ice crawls into your chest, settling there as your breathing begins to get heavy. You nod slowly and look to the floor. “Okay. Let’s break up, Chishiya.”

You hope the sound of his last name burns him as much as it did you.

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ —

Music hits the pool area as you walk out, nodding to the beat you hear. Grinning at those you're familiar with, you perk up at your chosen group. The ones who brought you in when you were lonely.

"Ni—ra—gi!" you sing as you approach him. Sat on his lap is a girl with her bikini top slipping down slowly. Her lipstick is smeared and her cheeks flushed as her eyes widen at your voice. "Oh, am I interrupting?"

Niragi glares — he's really just hiding his laughter, "you always do. What do you want?"

You hum slyly, going behind the girl to settle her bathing suit correctly. Her breathing picks up and her hips twitch at your touch — Niragi hides his snort. "Have some newbies Hatter is welcoming. Wanna check 'em out?" You bend so that you're eye to eye with the stranger, "or keep having fun instead?"

With a squeak, the girl practically launches from Niragi's hold and skitters away. You blink owlishly, "was it something I said?"

Niragi's loud, boisterous laughter leaves a trail as you sneak into the secret meeting. Aguni eyes you before rolling his eyes discreelty and tuning back into what Hatter is saying. It's the same spiel you were given — this was a free paradise that only called for your loyalty. Loyalty being the cards you earned every game, of course.

If someone was going home, it was going to be Hatter first and foremost.

You eye the trio standing in the middle of the room, watching as the shorter male fidgets. He glances around — meets your gaze and gulps. He mutters to the girl he’s with, tugging on the end of his shirt.

Grinning, you lean close to Niragi and lower your voice to a whisper. “Traitor.”

“Them?” He raises an eyebrow, incredulous. “You really think?”

You put your hand out, “wanna bet?” Niragi clicks his tongue as you wiggle your fingers, insisting he shakes your hand. “Hm?”

He shoves your hand away, “never making a bet with you. Not again.”

As the meeting concludes, you grin widely.

Your name is called as Hatter beckons you forward. He leans on the desk in front of his card display, grinning as his top men join him. He gestures grandly, his arms open wide. "Liking your promotion?"

It's a silent nod to the gun strapped to your thigh — to the absence of a bathing suit. Aguni crosses his arms lightly, sticking his chin out. You grin — recently, it's starting to look more and more like Niragi's teasing smile than anything like yours. "It's fun enough."

Hatter laughs loudly at your words. He nods his head, "rumor has it you could beat any of my militants, anyways. Would rather have you on our side — on my side."

Niragi slings an arm around your shoulders as he hums in agreement. "Not a good idea to get on this one's bad side. I've seen it — scary shit."

Hatter cackles again as Mira eyes you now. She tilts her head a little, deciding to speak up. "Wonder where that temper of yours came from."

You simply grin again, closing your eyes with a sweet facade. "An old friend. That's all."

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ —

When he's recruited to the Beach, Chishiya isn't sure what to think. The man he was partnered with was lasered at the last second, leaving Chishiya in a remaining duo. The woman — Rei, she said — eyed him warily before nodding.

An unspoken rule of the Beach was the ability to bring more people in — more cards in.

It's a loud place, music booming and people cheering as if they aren't in danger. In the entry way of the hotel, there's a small crowd gathering, whooping and jeering. Chishiya unknowingly strays closer to the circle and away from his tour guide.

In the middle, a man with his hair half-up is laughing loudly. His arm is around someone else as they stand over the bleeding lump of a person on the floor. As he laughs, Chishiya can see the shine of a tongue ring gleaming in the lights. His arm is tapped and he's dragged back to the introduction of everyone.

For a second, though, Chishiya thought he caught a glance of you.

Hatter calls for a meeting, as he usually does to welcome newcomers. Niragi stands with his gun slung over his shoulder — Chishiya squints his eyes, thinking of how familiar he looks before his attention is taken.

A long, lanky figure begins to speak to Aguni. The only indication of the conversation is the raise of his eyebrows — he seems surprised by something. Aguni's lips part, as if he's going to speak, before he eyes Hatter and his mouth falls shut.

The door behind him opens and Chishiya feels cold. A shiver runs down his spine, trickling in line with the sweat that's built up. He keeps his eyes to the ground, as if he subconciuosly knows danger is around. A sharp, musical lilt of someone humming interupts the meeting in the room.

"The traitors," it can't be, "have been taken care of, your highness."

Stock-still and frigid Chishiya stands as you come into view. You look different — it's been three years — a wide, estranged grin on your face as you ignore the blood dripping down your face. Niragi saunters up to you, "the hell happened?"

"Had a knife," you let out an annoyed breath, sweeping at the cut above your eyebrow. "Not a very good one, though."

Hatter's laughter calls everyones attention back his way. His grin is just as wide as yours — just as corrupted and red. "Thank you, [Name]! For your sacrifice, the Beach will live another day."

You simply bow your head before standing with Aguni — the militants, Chishiya remembers.

Tilting his head, the blond secretly looks you over. You'd gotten toned — leg and arm muscles built and presenting themselves nicely in your shorts and shirt. You stood relaxed, surrounded by numerous weapons and threatening figures had no impact on you at all. Maybe you were part of that threatening crowd now — part of the fear that clung to the Beach.

Chishiya wondered if you'd noticed his differences as well — his longer, lighter hair and how he slouched more when he stood. He wondered if you'd even seen him in the first place.

Sharp, animalistic eyes catch his gaze. The lanky, tattooed figure watched him before saying something to the pierced one from before. Chishiya shot his eyes away before either had the chance to see him staring.

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ —

"Seem to have caught the newbies attention." Niragi speaks casually as you roam the hallways. He lets out a snort, rolling his eyes and head until he's looking at Last Boss.

Last Boss grins, "always do."

You curl your nose, swatting away the rifle Niragi holds on his shoulder — it'd bounced your way one too many times. "We had a newbie?"

Standing in disbelief, Last Boss pauses in the middle of the hallway. He looks Niragi's way, mouth parted in shock before he's slowly shaking his head. "[Name], you are..."

"Something," a feminine voice speaks up. The girl is with a crowd of three, her eyes trailing up and down your body slowly. She turns to wink your way as her friends scatter. "Something, truly!"

With a giggle, she's gone.

Before they can comment, a bell is tolled, signaling the time for games. Niragi lets out a huff, following behind as you wrap your arm in Last Boss'. A stranger allowed their attraction for you to overcome their fear for everyone else. You had to be magic.

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ —

You had to be magic.

It was a spade's game, to Chishiya's disinterest. He'd made an acquaintance — Kuina agreed on wanting to leave before Hatter, and had a history of combat. She would be useful in these games — except, they switched games at the last minute.

Chishiya couldn't have regretted it more.

You seemed to be the star of the show, everyone focused on you as your fellow militants grinned ferally. Poser — a four of spades where one player selected was not who they said they were. It should've been a hearts game, maybe diamond.

Said player could only be exposed by the color of their 'blood'.

Everyone was given a heavy, white t-shirt full of paint. Red meant you were human — blue meant you were an imposter. Chishiya gulps at the display in front of him. The red staining your skin wasn't just paint — he looked down apathetically at the two half-concious people who'd taken you on beforehand.

"You." A friend of yours is looking his way, at his pristine, unstained shirt. They tilt their head, "let us see your insides, hm?"

Letting out a huff, you swipe the sweat off of your forehead. Three others have joined you in your battle — think some of these people are actually dead. Standing straight, you see a newer militant cornering someone ahead. Shrugging, you saddle up beside them to help.

Your voice dies in your throat.

Dark, almost empty eyes meet yours and you hold back a gag. They shine sparsely, with disgust, maybe empathy and the smallest hint of regret. Your fist clenches around your trusty knife, praying to it that your voice won't break. "...Chishiya."

He almost jumps when he notices your attention on him. The stray militant has joined into the clump of fighters feet away — it's only the two of you once more. He lets out a breath, "[Name]..."

Your fist connects with his cheek before you can think. Chishiya stumbles back — doesn't have time to guard himself before you're nailing your fists into him once again. Your knees connect to the floor harshly as you go down, following his body as he collapses.

How dare he call you so casually? So lovingly? Your swing misses — Chishiya simply stares up at you. How dare he come into the world — this solace of sorts and destroy the walls you'd built? How dare he — three years later — still linger on your tongue and in your thoughts?

A choked, staggered sob leaves your lips as the voice overhead chimes.

"Game complete!"

Chishiya is still laying on the ground as you stand on wobbling legs. His eyes are half-lidded, hazy as he gazes at you, stock still. The red under his broken nose copies the red bleeding from his shirt. Not the traitor this time, at least.

You let out another sob before turning, grabbing the card and leaving the game.

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ —

a part two is already in the works! have to figure out a definite plot, is all <3 if you’d like to be tagged in this series or any other aib work, let me know!! ♥︎

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

#ex!chishiya #aib x you #aib x y/n #aib au #aib x reader #aib chishiya #alice in borderland chishiya #alice in borderland imagine #alice in boderland x reader #alice in borderland fanfic #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya angst #chishiya imagine #chishiya x y/n #chishiya x reader #shuntaro chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader

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creativewritersposts · 6 months ago

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not true - Luke Hughes

summary; Luke Hughes x f!reader. You're daydreaming and writing fanfiction about your favorite player until he reads one.

warning(s); maybe grammar errors, angst, fluff

author's note; it's a mix from my old blurbs/imagines in a new one. Part 2 ?

--------------------------------------------------------------

Does anyone know the moment, having a crush on an unknown, famous person? Like saving pictures on your phone and using as wallpaper and thinking about how is it to know this person?

You have this moment. It's no secret you're daydreaming much but you're crushing on Luke Hughes for a weeks now. His curls, his smile, his whole attitude looks perfect. You're in your own world thinking how your life would look like- three perfect Luke baby's, a big house and a cute dog. Yeah, you're daydreaming too much.

"I wrote a new Luke fic, wanna read it?", you speak to your internet friend.

It's not like you don't have friends in real life- but talking with them about cute hockey players you don't feel comfortable with. It's your little secret.

"Sure", she replies and excitement swings in her voice. You send this short story with a proud grin, it took you hours to finish it.

"You have to post this! I love it!", screams Jess through the phone speaker.

"I'll do", copy it in your blog and posting it. You're reading nice comments, when a new notification comes on your screen.

'I'm definitely not the worst cook'. That's it, no profile picture, no caption who this person is. It could be fake. Luke Hughes would never read fanfiction about himself.

You're typing fast, 'who are you?'

An reply comes fast.

'Luke Hughes'

You laugh hysterical, someone wants to fail you. Without an answer you go to bed. It's too much information for you and it's late.

A phone call is waking you up, it's vibrating nonstop next to your bed, tired you grab after your phone, "hello?". Your raspy voice is not powerful.

"WHY IS LUKE HUGHES FOLLOWING YOU", Jess talks without friendly manners.

"No he's not, maybe fake", you rub your eyes. It's too early.

"No it's Luke himself! I'm not blind", she talks nonstop like a waterfall.

You check your Instagram - hundreds of new followers and she's right- Luke Hughes started following you.

"I have no clue", you get in shock. You're still dreaming, there's no other explanation for this.

"You better find out why", Jess laughs happy for you. "I'm not living in New Jersey so I don't think there are chances".

You dressed up, went to work and forgot the time like always - until something rings on the phone again.

The phone rings the last hours more than in your entire life.

"I'm not a bad cook", notification from Luke Hughes himself.

The curly man with incredible hockey skills and two hockey brothers and a legend as mom. This Luke Hughes who's your wallpaper like everywhere you use.

You dance with the phone in your hands before you reply. Breath in, breath out; let's go.

"Ok". Not that bad. Unimpressed.

"I can prove you. I'll cook dinner for you".

Dude, there is some space between you two. You don't think he has a private jet.

"I don't live in New Jersey", you smirk whilst sending him. You're a fangirl but not a puck bunny.

"I have a car", with an winking emoji. How can he dare to be such a tease?

Before you could react he calls per chat, his face comes on the screen, his cap on his head, tired looking face. "Hey", he smirks chill and pets his curls.

"Hello", you wave awkwardly. You're in work clothes so you don't look stylish. "Can you give me your adress?", he asks with a voice crack. "I'm not for one night, Hughes", you warn him. You're disappointed, you always thought he's a gentleman.

"Oh no not this way!", his face gets closer to the screen, "you know I love all my fans but I'm really interested to meet you. Not as what you think", he shyly says. He bites on his lip, waiting for your answer. Honestly you don't know how to react. "I'm not a supermodel. And I like to eat, not just salad", you tell him. "Why are you guys always thinking we just like supermodels?", he's frightened. "Because you follow 45 blonde models on Instagram", the answer comes out your mouth like a pistol.

"Instagram is not real life. Do you like meat?", he's still interested in this conversation.

"Yeah", "ok my navigation says I'm there in 3 hours so better be prepared for the best meal you ever ate!", "wait you know my address?", you get worried. "Your friend Jess told me", he laughs shy.

"Oh my God I'm gonna kill her for that",you mumble to yourself. "Do you want to meet me? Your friend told me you're interested, too", he bites in his nails. "yes!!", you scream louder than you should.

"See you later!", he laughs friendly and closes the video chat.

Your poor heart.

#luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes blurb #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl blurb

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adnauseum11 · 8 months ago

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First Aid Kit (John Price x Reader)

You return home after a trying Christmas.

1.3k words

CW: none

Feedback welcome!

While not explicitly written for @glitterypirateduck O' Captain Challenge it does fit the criteria. For more John Price deliciousness check out the other works submitted!

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U. series, the Masterlist is also pinned to my blog.

Ao3

O, Captain Challenge

Masterlist

You realize Christmas with your brother and his growing family is a mistake approximately a day after you arrive. There’s only sixteen months between the two of you, but with your parents gone, you’ve slowly been drifting apart. You hadn’t actually spoken to him in weeks, life being too chaotic, but when you called on Christmas Eve and said you wanted to come for Christmas (desperate not to be alone) he had dutifully accepted and agreed to make the guest room up.

At first, your adorable three-year-old nephew is a welcome disruption from your misery. Seeing him rip open presents and make a joyful mess around the tree was heartwarming to say the least. But watching your normally annoying brother loving on his pregnant wife had only made you miss John more. Somewhere along the line you had gotten used to John always having a hand on you, or being nearby, and the way you had turned away from him before he left was haunting you. Your brain kept whispering agonizing things. What if that was the last time you saw him? Anxiety is a ball in your stomach you can’t seem to shift, no matter the distraction. You had gone to bed with a heavy and bruised heart and a thin smile pasted on your face the first night. The second night brought a familiar text from John, and all the conflicted emotions you tried to put off came roaring back with it.

JP: Back here.

JP: Where are you?

JP: What’s going on love?

Stewing on what to do about John drains you. You don’t answer the texts, opting to try for sleep instead, knowing he can see you’ve read them. It feels childish, a tit for tat situation, but you know it will drive him crazy to be left without a reply. You exact some small revenge where you can.

You decide to lie to your brother and say you are being recalled to your nonexistent job as you lay awake, listening to the bangs and crashes of the household waking the following morning. Everything is too raw to explain, especially as you had never actually gotten around to telling your brother about the shift in yours and John’s relationship – never mind the rest of it. It is too much to get in to, and the wrong time to bring it up.

With John back, the itch to get home is tempered by the argument left hanging, gnawing away at you. You are too distracted and anxious to even pretend at happy family now. Your brother, who grumbles about driving you back to the railway, mercifully doesn’t otherwise question the departure that is as sudden as your arrival.

Your anxiety further ramps up when you see John’s car parked at the flat when the Uber drops you off. You had expected him to be away longer than a few days given the urgent nature of his departure. You can feel your heart fluttering in your throat, excitement at his return mixing with nerves, unsure what is waiting for you as you walk up to the front door. His rucksack still leaning in the front entrance is the first thing to greet you, making you frown. It’s unlike John to leave his stuff laying around. You toe off your boots and call for him, instinctually heading towards the bedroom to drop your bag. The lights are off in the room but there is still daylight coming in through the gauzy curtains over the windows, making John’s big body in the centre of the bed easily visible. You recognize your IDAHO shirt, draped over his eyes and realize he’s got another migraine.

“John?”

You try again, bumping your thighs against the mattress, your heart feeling too large for your chest and impossibly tender as you drop your bag.

“Darling?”

John jerks upright, yanking the shirt off his face, his intense blue eyes bloodshot and squinting against the throbbing behind them.

“Are you alright?”

You’re reaching across to push against his shoulder, trying to settle him back against the mattress but he’s resisting, searching your face for something. He looks awful, his eyes sunken with exhaustion and pain, his normally sharp blue eyes red, and eyelids slightly swollen. His hair is matted to his head with dried sweat at his temples and his normally neatly trimmed facial hair is overgrown. He’s clearly slept in his clothes, his shirt and jeans rumpled. Your heart lurches, your instinct to soothe overwhelming your anger. Right up until John opens his mouth.

“Was going to ask you the same thing, you scared the shit out of me when you weren’t here.”

He’s accusatory, his narrowed eyes piercing.

“John, I told you I didn’t want to be alone for Christmas! I went to see my brother!”

Only John could summon the energy to fight with you while feeling dreadful, and it concerns you as much as it does annoy you.

“Could have left a note or sent a text, love, I would have gotten it when I was back.”

He’s stubborn, his brows drawing together but he finally physically relents, letting you press him back against the pillows. Annoyingly, he’s not wrong and arguing is only going to wind him up when he’s already suffering.

“Yes, I should have.”

You agree, flummoxing him into silence and you take the opportunity to swipe your palm over his fevered forehead gently, closing his eyes again in the process. He blindly follows your touch, his hand capturing your wrist. Your heart gives a kick when you glimpse the bandage around his forearm.

“Darling – “

John’s voice sounds thick with emotion and your chest clenches tightly in response. You find yourself sitting on the bed beside him, shushing him before he can speak any further.

“Let’s talk when you’re feeling better, hot stuff.”

“Will you stay with me?”

He’s plaintive now, his own annoyance taking a backseat for the moment. It reminds you of when you were younger and he would try to wheedle you into staying for another pint. And then another. The sincerity gets you every time.

“Of course, I’m not going to leave you like this.”

The deep sigh of relief that escapes John would make you smile if you weren’t feeling so fragile. Instead, you smooth his hair down, stroking the crown of his head. You can’t stop watching his face, mapping any sign of pain or discomfort. He seems content to let you lightly run your hands over his face and head, his hands settling back in the blankets.

“Do you want anything?”

“No. Just you.”

This time you do manage a small smile, the motion forcing the water gathering on your bottom lashes down your cheeks.

“I missed you, you wretched man.”

Your words are just as wet as your cheeks, hiding nothing from John even with his eyes closed. He wraps his hand around your wrist and kisses your palm, whispering something against your flesh before returning your hand to his cheek. You can’t help but stroke his wiry facial hair, running your thumb over the apple of his cheek gently. You replace your soft and well-worn t-shirt over his eyes, soothing him further. Gently you return to stroking his hair, massaging his scalp intermittently until your fingers ache and John’s finally in a deep sleep, his breathing slow and measured.

You wait until he’s out cold before shimmying out of bed to unpack your bag and shower, leaving the door open so you can hear if he wakes and calls for you. Seeing John in obvious pain activates some primal part of you, the urge to tend to him nearly overwhelming. It’s an odd sensation, especially after days spent conflicted about his actions. You spend the entire shower mulling over the situation, half your awareness directed towards the bedroom. Without allowing yourself to think too deeply any further, you give in to your impulse and forgo dinner to crawl back in beside John’s sleeping form, tucking yourself against his side with a sigh. Sleep comes easily, even at the early hour, the warmth of John’s big body bleeding through your relaxed limbs.

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ramp-it-up · 9 days ago

Text

Sugar, Cubed II:

Simple Sugar

Summary: I revisited Sugar and the boys from the Sugar is Sweet séries, and let me tell you. Bucky and Steve sure have grown up from their college days. They are no longer playing around. And they are coming for you. You're forced to be roommates with Steve again. But you can establish boundaries. It'll be simple, right?

Word Count: 3K

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader; mention of Bucky Barnes x Reader; boss Tony Stark x reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Roommate/Co-worker au, S MUT! Angst, Tony is a shit boss, massive debt. forced proximity. Tattoo talk, Steve apologizes, accidental, then purposeful voyeurism, reference to porn and sex toys, masturbation, talk of impotence, raw p in v, rough sex, dirty talk, lots of cum, eventual polyandry. Basically, you are doomed. Porn with plot.

A/N: This is related to the Sugar is Sweet au, but can be read alone. This is part two to Sugar, Cubed. The next part is soon come! I hope you like it. This is part of Falloween 2024.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

——

After three days of calling in sick, you were summoned for a sit down with Mr. Stark.

This was not a, ”have a drink while Black Sabbath plays and you admire Tony’s t-shirt as he rambles” type of chat. This was, a “let’s review the terms of your contract in the boardroom with suits” type of meeting.

Tony’s eyes admired you in your silk blouse and pencil skirt as you arrived, then watched you pointedly at you as you reviewed the numbers on the page.

Half a million for your bachelor’s and masters degree at NYU. Almost as much for housing. Not to mention the penalty for breaking your contract early. Even if you were paid a pretty penny and you had a ton of savings, you’d still be digging yourself out of a hole for the rest of your life if you quit.

Tony Stark owned your ass.

But you were on the verge of not caring.

“I know, you are over your current working situation, Sugar. But I still believe in you. I believe in the team of BuckySugarSteve.”

You gave him a confused look.

“Still trying to find a hashtag, look that doesn’t matter. It’s come to my attention that a certain plucky Bucky took things a little too far the other night. I’m sorry you had to deal with that on my watch.”

Tony looked sincere. But you eyed him warily.

“Thinking back on what you said last week, I now agree that you need a break. So I’m sending you to the Tokyo lab. But only for a limited time.”

“How long?”

Tony stood and turned his back on you, looking out over the Hudson.

“Depends on the progress made on the project there.”

You stared at his back and his jet black hair and chewed your lip. You wanted out from the tension between the three of you. But there had to be a catch.

“What does the work entail?”

Tony turned back around with a smirk and explained the research and answered a few more questions from you. It seemed right in your skill set. Tony sat back down and crossed his ankle over his leg while he templed his fingers. He stared at you over the conference table.

“So what do you say Sugar?”

“I’m in.”

—--

You should have asked more questions.

Rage boiled inside you as you put up the partition on your business class seat and you typed away angrily on your phone. You shouldn’t have been surprised that your seatmate was Steve Rogers, but you were.

You just cursed as he greeted you and pulled out your phone as the flight attendant gave you the stink eye. Steve arrived just at the doors were closing. And there was no escape.

You wanted to throw your phone after you saw Tony’s response.

“I said you needed a break from Barnes, not Rogers. Suck it up and enjoy your time in Japan. Check out the expense account and your digs in Asakusa. You have to share, because space is at a premium in Tokyo, but you’ll survive.”

You didn’t bother to click the links that Tony sent. The living arrangements were sure to be top notch and the money was probably going to be great, but living with and working next to Steve was not what you were looking forward to.

You popped a sleeping pill and tried to sleep most of the 14 hour flight. After managing to get some rest, you were not as rude to Steve when you had to put down your partition. Luckily, he didn’t try to speak to you and you deboarded the plane and got your luggage and to your driver without incident.

When you got to your place, you were impressed, but anxious.

The place was modern and well placed within walking distance of the trains, but Tony was right. Your apartment in New York was twice the size of this place, and it was only you.

You went to investigate the sleeping situation. There were two small bedrooms and they were right next to each other. Only one had an en-suite.

You were chewing your lip, deep in thought when Steve interrupted reverie. His voice was hoarse from half a day of not being used.

“It’s close quarters, but I will make it so you don’t even know I’m here.”

You turned around to see Steve standing in the doorway of the room you’d silently called dibs on.

He looked like a kid, in his rumpled t-shirt and hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. You almost felt something.

But not quite.

“Look, Sugar. I’m sorry. I really am. What happened in the elevator was… Bucky’s got a lot going on–”

He stopped once he noticed that you had stiffened up at Bucky’s name.

“Don’t make excuses for him. If you want to apologize, take responsibility for what you’ve done. Or not done. On. Your. Own.”

You sat on the ground and opened up your suitcase. Steve watched you as you started to unpack, thoughtful.

“You’re right. I’m sorry I didn’t punch him in the mouth to shut the jerk up.”

You just shook your head, refusing to smile, even though you thought about it.

“And I am so very sorry for lying to you. No matter what the reason. I should not have done that.”

You looked up at him and you could see Steve’s adam’s apple bob in his throat multiple times. His nervous tell. But you continued to look him in the eye.

“You were right to react the way you did. And you’re right to want to be as far away from u- me as you want to be. I’ve lost the best thing that ever happened to me and it was entirely my fault.”

You had to break eye contact then. You didn’t want to cave. You turned the sweater you were folding over and over in your hands. You could hear Steve take a deep breath.

“I just want–”

He cleared his throat again.

“Shit, I want a lot of things, Sugar, but I hope we can be cordial, friends even? We used to be friends. We're in a new city, a new country, a new continent. We can have a lot of fun together.”

You looked back up at him.

“Like we used to?”

“A lot has happened since ‘we used to,’ Steven.”

His shoulders slumped.

“Well, I will stay out of your way.”

He turned around to get out of your space and you felt a pang of some kind of emotion that you did not want to name.

“Hey.”

Steve stopped and turned around, his face guarded.

“I’ve been on a plane for an entire day, and I just want breakfast even though it’s 4pm here. I think I’m hangry. Let me think about it.” That smile. Oh, if you still had a heart, he might do something to it.

“I think I saw some eggs and American breakfast fixins in the fridge. I’ll make you an omelet.”

Steve knew you were a slut for breakfast. Among other things.

—--

After eating and chatting, you conceded that you did want a shopping partner; you planned to hit up all the thrift stores and you wanted someone to take day trips with on the weekend. You decided on a truce. It may have been food induced, but you thought that you could set good boundaries with Steve, so you lay down some ground rules.

Steve agreed to everything you said.

After trying to stay up as long as you could, you were ready to turn in for the night. You had a couple of days before you needed to report to the lab, so you and Steve decided to explore your neighborhood and maybe do some touristy things, since Tokyo Tower and the Asahi brewery were right outside your window.

And then it happened.

You were minding your own business after your shower, in your thin cotton tank and sleep shorts, going to the kitchen to fill your water bottle. Suddenly, the hallway door opened and you ran into Steve coming out of the bathroom, naked except for a towel slung low on his waist and beads of water running down the planes of his extremely well made torso.

He almost ran into you.

“Oh, shit Sugar, I’m sorry….”

You’d stopped short and were staring at his left pectoral. There was new ink on the golden boy’s body.

And you couldn’t believe it.

Among the beads of water diving down his body to disappear under the towel, because why wouldn’t they, there was a chemical formula. And you couldn’t believe which one it was.

“How long have you had that?”

You were staring, and your hand reached out to touch it, but you pulled back before you made contact. You looked up into his eyes and then back down at the tattoo because you didn’t want to drown in his eyes like you used to.

But it seemed kind of inevitable now.

Sometime in the six months that you’d been broken up, Steve had gotten the compound for simple sugar tattooed on his body, (CH2O)x

“Sugar–”

“How long?”

You whispered it. And then dove into the blue depths of his eyes again.

“Two weeks after we broke up.”

His voice was impossibly deep, and threatened to reach places that you wanted to be unreachable. But you didn’t ask why.

“What was the thought process behind that decision, Steve?”

You didn’t ask why. But you needed to know the reason.

“Because it’s pretty simple, Sugar. You just wanted honesty. And if I had been honest, maybe we’d still be together. So I got this tattoo to remind myself that this is all I have left of the girl I loved the most. So maybe when I fall in love again, I won’t be such an idiot.”

“Wow.”

You reached out again and touched the tattoo. It had been right over his heart, without you knowing, for the better part of half a year.

Steve’s eyes stuttered closed and he drew in a sharp breath when you touched him.

“Sugar. You gotta know how…

You shook your head, blown away and rocked by what he said. Mostly the “when I fall in love again” part. You don’t know why that phrase echoed around your head.

“I’ve got to tell it all. Sugar, I thought in the back of my head that if you knew Bucky was hurt, that you’d go back to him.”

You closed your eyes, not wanting to sympathize with this grown ass man who lied to you so hard about someone you both loved, but you understood.

“So I lied, partly because he asked me to. But mostly because I was trying to keep you to myself.”

You sagged against the wall, still touching him, fingers grazing the mark that he’d made on his body for you. Steve followed you, not wanting the contact to end, and stood before you in the narrow hallway, naked except for a towel. He was closer than you’d allowed him to be in a while.

Finally, you looked up at him.

“You’re right, It is simple. I just wanted honesty. I wouldn’t have abandoned you for Bucky, Steve.”

Steve moved impossibly closer as his eyes flicked down your body. You remembered he had it memorized. Your chemistry was amazing. Not just the formula tattooed on his skin, but the draw of you to him, and him to you. You weren’t over that.

But you wanted to be.

One of Steve’s hands was on his towel, and the other was above your head. You were looking up at him and he down at you, and it was the perfect moment to kiss. But he didn’t make another move. You looked down and noticed that his towel had changed shape.

“Sugar…”

You looked him in the eyes again. It was all up to you.Your breathing was erratic and your panties were damp. Reaching up, you put your hands up on his pecs again.

This time to push him back.

“I think we need some rest.”

Steve backed up, toward his bedroom.

“Right. We need…”

Your need was mighty. But you weren’t giving in. You took a deep breath.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night, Sugar.”

—-

You breathed a sigh of relief at your narrow escape and went in the kitchen to drink water and cool down. You mindlessly scrolled your phone for a few minutes and decided that you were calm enough to go to sleep. You glanced at Steve’s door as you opened yours, and you just had to stop.

His door was cracked just enough so you could see Steve sprawled on his bed, towel still on, still tented, and he was scrolling on his phone. He looked delicious, from the tattoo on his pec to his tiny tan nipples to his amazing abs and the trail of hair pointing to the large cock that you had memorized, and which was standing at attention under his towel.

He looked good enough to eat. And you had plenty of times. But those days were over.

You bit your lip as he rubbed his erection over the towel, and moved closer as he groaned a little bit.

Was he looking at porn?

You totally understood his frustration after what happened, and he was in the privacy of his own room, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. You felt guilty but you continued to watch him touch himself.

And as you wanted to touch yourself.

You stared at his open door as suddenly, the towel came off, and he was naked, and stunningly aroused, his face pure lust.

Steve Roger’s cock was gorgeous.

Your memories were nothing like the reality of him, thick and curved against his abs. He gripped the shaft, stroking it. Your hands found one of your nipples in the now-dark hallway, imagining kneeling for him.

You dreamed of his cock in your mouth and could practically feel yourself swirling tongue over his head and worshiping him as he told you what to do. The sensation him deep in your throat and letting him use it took over you.

You pinched your nipple tighter as he casually jerked himself off. You felt dirty, thinking how he’d feel knowing that you were watching him like this.

Would he be mad?

Or…

Stifling a whimper, you slid a hand into your shorts, smearing your wetness over your clit to trace fast, tight circles there. You hadn’t had anyone but electronic lovers and plastic since you broke up with Steve. And here he was, giving you a show.

You needed to see it. You wanted to see Steve cum, erupt, spill over his large, veiny hand, cream all over those abs. You moaned slightly as you imagined sucking it off those places.

His hand blurred on his shaft. Your clit hardened as you remembered his thick dick penetrating you, him fucking you well, calling you beautiful…

“Christ, Sugar, make me so hard. Take me so well. Cum with me Sweetheart…”

You were almost there and suddenly, Steve stopped. He got up, let go of his dick, walked to the light switch, give yon a look, and then plunged the room into darkness.

Then he closed the door.

You practically jumped into your room, pacing, shocked and excited, thoughts in a jumble.

Your phone buzzed in the pocket of your shorts.

It was a text from Steve.

“If you want more, just open my door. It’s unlocked. You can have anything you want. I want you. What do you want, Sugar?”

You are propelled into the hallway, to his door, hesitating only a moment. You’re just going to talk to him. Apologize. Tell him you would never do it again.

You were in his room now and the Tokyo moon cast shadows over his sleek torso. He was covered by the comforter, but you knew he was still hard.

“I always loved you in just tank tops. Those nipples are just begging to be sucked.”

His deep baritone made you launch yourself toward him. Steve caught you in his arms, both of you bouncing on the bed from the impact.

“What it’s gonna be, Sugar? What do you want?”

You are taking his hands and molding them to your breasts, throwing the covers off and straddling his thighs. You pulled your shorts and panties to the side so you could feel the slide and ridge of his cock catch on your clit as you slipped over him.

It felt electric.

“I want you Steve. Fuck it all. I want you.”

You’ve lost your mind. You’re creaming on his dick as his big, strong arms held you steady and you humped him like a mad woman.

“Fuck, it’s been so fucking difficult being hard as a rock all day working next to you in the lab, you ignoring me, and then not being able to get it up for anyone else…”

You were irrationally angry.

“Mine.”

You grabbed Steve’s cock and moved your thighs, lifting up and pushing his fat head into your cunt. You glared at him as you slowly sunk down on him, his thick shaft slowly opening you up.

It hurt so good.

Your head lolled back on your neck as Steve pulled your tank top down and started brutally sucking your nipples.

“Fuck yeah, it’s yours. Fit me like a fucking glove.”

Steve held you down for a few seconds as he pushed up into you as if he was going to lock on on his cock, then he lifted you up by your waist and started pounding you from beneath.

He stared up at you in the moonlight and you could feel his cock jump inside you.

“Didn’t matter what I did, who it was. Couldn’t fuck anyone else. Had to come home and pull up pictures of you.”

Steve was moving you now, just like a fleshlight, thumb at your clit.

“I’m about to fucking bust, and you better fucking cum around my cock before I do. Been too godamn long, Sugar.”

You moaned erotically at the thought of Steve impotent with everyone else but you.

He groaned in response and squeezed your nipple brutally. You quaked with your orgasm and Steve erupted mid pump, his spend spurting out as he moved in and out of you.

“Fuuuuu-uuuck!”

You collapsed backward on the bed as Steve continued to pump, impossibly still hard even after he came. You reached down into the copious wetness and circled your clit, wanting to prolong the sensation, and Steve groaned/laughed as you convulsed around him again.

You were a tangle of limbs, fluid, sweat and wet cloth as you came down.

Steve pulled you up, you got out of his bed and walked back to your bedroom, turning on the shower.

As you climbed into your bed, Steve was already there, re-showered himself. You fell asleep in Asakusa, Tokyo, Japan, tracing his tattoo, and wondering if it really was that simple, Sugar.

——

Did you like it? Let me know!

Next part soon. 😮‍💨

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