#and i am hurt that you refuse to let go of it

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 12

Summary: Wanda deals with the aftermath of your breakup.

A/N: This chapter is focused on Wanda. Big thanks to @a-cat-on-titan for an idea that made it on a part of the fic :)

Aint no mountain high enough

Ain’t no valley low enough

“Ain’t no river wiiideee enoough” Wanda dances around the kitchen, singing.

It’s never quiet around the house. There’s always music, or drilling or hammering. Because she’s taken into making (badly built) furniture. And pottery. And yoga.

To anyone else, it may seem like Wanda’s living her best life.

But Pietro’s not just anyone.

His sister is running away from her feelings, keeping herself busy just so she doesn’t have time to miss you.

“Oh, morning. Want anything for breakfast?”

“I’ll make something later, thank you” he refuses the offer, feeling better and finding his movements to be more confident after another month in physical therapuy. “How did you sleep?”

“Children, we’re late for school!” Wanda ignores him. That’s the one thing she can’t do. Sleep. She’ll rest for a few hours, but as soon as everyone’s asleep, Wanda gets too anxious. Her only solution is to put on a pair of headphones and paint or do pottery or anything else until it’s 3 am and she’s too tired to think.

Or dream.

“Billy, where is your soccer bag? You boys have practice after school!” Wanda says, trying to look for it. Kids, always misplacing everything.

“I don’t wanna go to soccer anymore! I already told you” he protests. Pietro looks up, prepared for another argument.

It’s been happening since you left.

“Sweetheart, you love soccer!”

“No, I don’t! I only liked it because Y/N helped me practice during the weekends and it was fun. I’m not going anymore”

With that, he leaves the house and heads straight to the car, slamming the door. Wanda knows he’ll be crying on the way to school and will refuse to hug her goodbye, the same way he’s done every day for the past month.

“Tommy, grab your stuff” the woman says, trying to pretend everything’s fine.

Unfortunately for her, the twins don’t let her pretend, showing how hurt they are and how much they miss you.

It’s just a phase.

“I have a meeting with Laura, I’ll come back later” she says goodbye to Pietro, hoping the car ride can be a bit better.

“Ok” is all he says, frowning.

There’s only one way to fix this. He just hopes his sister will find a way to forgive him after finding out what he did.

—

Laura is waiting with coffee and some biscuits. She’s always looking at Wanda anxiously, waiting for the moment that everything will finally collapse and she’ll feel all the things she’s avoiding.

So far, nothing.

“Hey! Oh, the boys are being so difficult lately. How did you manage with Cooper?” Wanda always walks in with a monologue ready, which never gives Laura the chance to ask her how she’s doing.

“I don’t know. I mean I don’t think that was a difficult age for him” she grimaces, thinking whether or not to tell Wanda this has nothing to do with age, and everything to do with her breakup.

“Is this the book? Oh my God, it looks amazing!” she changes the topic, knowing where the conversation is headed. As she opens to read the first pages, her smile fades. “Well, we need to get rid of that”

That as in, the dedication. The words that were written for you. Because you helped with the book, with taking care of the kids, with encouraging Wanda.

This was supposed to be a gift for you. Like the first book Wanda ever wrote, and she dedicated to the twins. And so on with every one of her family members.

You were the last piece of the puzzle. And she had hoped that someday she’d dedicate the next one to a baby girl. A daughter that looked just like you.

“Wanda…” Laura says, noticing the cracks in her friend’s perfect facade.

“Anyway! I have to go do some grocery shopping. I’m making coq au vin tonight”

“Do the kids eat that?”

“Sure!”

Of course they don’t. But chicken is too fast and she needs to be distracted and have a lot of dishes to clean and keep her mind occupied.

“Well, this is a first prototype. Once I speak with the publishing company we’ll get a date for the release” Laura says. “Hey, are you sure you’re ok?”

“Never been better” Wanda lies. “See you later, Laura”

Of course, the trip to the grocery store is not enough to calm her, not when there’s a woman wearing scrubs, looking exhausted and trying to figure out which baking powder is better.

“This one’s good if you want to bake cookies” she says, finding it hard to look away. “Sorry, you didn’t ask”

“No, that’s fine. Appreciate it” the woman nods, grabbing the one Wanda suggested and walking to another woman that is also wearing scrubs. They chat as they walk to the register.

Now Wanda regrets talking to them. What if they used to work with you? What if they tell everyone they saw her and she was being a weirdo talking to them first?

Worried about running into someone else, she hurries up with the shopping, and practically sprints to her car.

It takes her a few minutes to calm down. She forgets about the radio, until it begins playing.

One of your songs.

Wanda doesn’t have time to change the station, getting a call. She doesn’t really notice who it’s from, wishing nothing more than to disappear.

“Miss Maximoff? This is Tommy’s teacher”

Ok, that will distract her for sure.

“Is he ok? Are he and Billy…?”

“We’re gonna need you to come to the principal’s office, please”

—

A fight.

His sweet, wonderful boy getting into a fight. Well, that was a lie. And no one was going to mess with Wanda’s children.

“Sweetheart?” she approaches her boy, sitting outside the Principal’s office. His clothes are dirty, and his hair is full of weeds. “Who did this to you?”

“Miss Maximoff” Principal Coleman says, ushering her inside. “Please, sit down. I know this is pretty much new to you. Your kids have good grades, the teachers love them… but I’m sorry to tell you Tommy got into a fight today”

“Oh, but… he is the sweetest kid. I just can’t imagine him hurting anyone”

“Well, according to Daniel, Tommy was the one who started it” the Principal says, leaning back in her chair.

“Ok, why don’t we ask Tommy about it? Hear his side of the story”

“I already did but if you’d like to, be my guest” the woman says, standing up to open the door for Tommy. “Go on, tell your mom what you told me”

“I started the fight” Tommy mutters, looking at his feet. “I’m sorry”

“Are you ok? And Daniel?”

“Daniel only got a scratch on his arm. Look, this is a first time incident and Daniel’s parents were very understanding, so I’ll let you take the kids home and figure this out. But if it happens again…”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Principal Coleman. And you said, to take both kids?”

“Yeah, Billy’s pretty upset about it” the Principal says, opening the door for them. “He’s at the library waiting for you”

Wanda walks next to her son, her mind racing. This has never happened, there must a logical explanation. She tries to keep her cool, but when she sees Billy sitting at the library, pulling nervously at his hair, she feels like a girl again, lost and confused.

She doesn’t know what to do or how to make things better.

“Billy, let’s go home” she says, waiting for him to walk out. The boy avoids her eyes, rushing past them and running straight to the exit.

“Mom” Tommy says, but she’s too overwhelmed.

“Later, Tommy”

The ride home is silent. Wanda doesn’t even play music, holding on to the wheel until her knuckles turn white.

You’d know what to do to make it better.

But now you’re gone.

She barely has time to park before Billy runs out of the car, opening the door and going upstairs.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Wanda says, still in the driver’s seat. Tommy looks away, shrugging his shoulders.

“Daniel was mean”

“That’s not an excuse to hit someone, you know better than that, Tommy” she scolds him. “You’re grounded, go to your room. We’ll talk about this later”

He steps out, his head down. Wanda is waiting for him to walk inside the house when she sees a woman with short, gray hair inspecting her garden.

“Hello. Can I help you?” Wanda says, clearly on edge. She’s not in the mood for any more surprises today.

And as the woman turns around, her jaw drops.

“Mom!”

“Hello, dear”

“Grandma!” Tommy runs back to her. “It’s you!”

“Oh, my! Look at you, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you! You’re so tall” the woman says, hugging her grandson. “Where’s your brother? Did you leave school early?”

“Uh… let’s all get inside. Tommy, tell your brother to come back down, please” Wanda interrupts, knowing she’ll get unwanted advice about parenting as soon as her mother knows what happened at school today. “So, how… I mean when…”

“Mama, I hope your flight was good” Pietro walks up to the door, wrapping his mother in a hug.

“You knew she was coming” Wanda says, feeling her blood boiling.

That little Mama’s boy.

“Don’t make a fuss, Wanda” their mother scolds. “I’m just here to help. And I won’t be staying in your house, your neighbor rents a room down the street. Mrs. Davies, you probably know her”

“Yeah, of course I do” she answers, but her mother is already walking inside, inspecting Pietro.

“Now, how’s recovery? You look so thin, bratan. Oh! You got a dog!” the woman exclaims, Sparky running around her.

This is so not how she expected her day to go at all.

—

Wanda’s not allowed in the kitchen while her mother cooks, and she can’t clean either because that was the first thing Ekaterina Maximoff did as soon as she set foot in the house.

The list of things she can do to get distracted is drastically reduced, so she locks herself in her study, pretending to sketch.

But all she can think about is you.

This is exactly why she doesn’t like to have free time. The memories of how you filled every part of the house with laughter and love are just waiting around the corner to remind Wanda how badly she messed up.

She decides to check on the twins, who should be done with their homework around this time.

But only Billy’s in his bed, playing with a Rubik’s cube you gave him.

“Hey” Wanda says, as she opens the door. “Mind if I sit?”

Billy just shrugs his shoulders, eyes focused on the different colors of the puzzle.

“Wanna tell me what happened in school? Did Tommy really start the fight?”

Billy sighs, and then looks up.

“Daniel said some mean things. Like…”

“Like… sweetheart, you can tell me anything, I promise. I just want to understand what happened” Wanda reassures him, squeezing his hand.

“Daniel said he heard his dad talking about you and Y/N. How it wasn’t right that you were with her and that he was happy she was gone. And then… he said maybe now that Y/N wasn’t around I…” Billy covers his eyes, trying to hide the fact he’s crying.

“Come here” Wanda comforts him, her heart breaking. She’s sorry to say this, but she doesn’t blame Tommy for getting into a fight with Daniel, not after he said all those horrible things.

“He said that now that Y/N’s gone I was going to stop being a weirdo”

“My sweet boy, I am so sorry” Wanda says, kissing the top of his head. “What Daniel said is not ok and his father should teach him better. I promise you I will talk to him about it”

“Don’t be mad at Tommy, he was just upset” Billy asks, wiping the tears. “He misses Y/N and so do I”

“It’s ok” Wanda hugs her baby boy, rubbing his back in a soothing motion. She feels Billy relax against her, hugging her like he used to do before you left.

Correction.

Before Wanda kicked you out.

“Do you miss her?” he asks, his voice small. He knows his mother doesn’t want to talk about you. It upsets her too much.

“Of course I do”

“It’s just… it feels like you don’t care, Mama. Like you don’t even remember her at all” Billy says, crying more.

“I know. I’m not the best at this, darling. I guess I just miss her so much it hurts, and I rather not think about it at all. It’s a silly thing grown ups do”

“Do you know if she’s ok?”

“I think so. I hope so”

“Do you think she misses us too?”

“I’m sure she misses you and Tommy and Sparky”

Truth is, Wanda isn’t sure you have any love left for her. Not enough to miss her, at least.

—

The food tastes like home. Like the summers in the country side, or the cold days of winter where Wanda played with Pietro until Mama called them home for a dinner of warm soup and bread.

“Delicious” Pietro comments after the first bite and Wanda nods.

“I can never get the sauce for the Chkmeruli right” Wanda says, trying to figure out the missing ingredient. “Your is so much better, just like grandma’s”

“I’ll teach you how to get it right” Ekaterina promises. “The secret is in the amount of ingredients. And something that we’re not telling anyone else”

“Alright” Wanda nods.

“Now, boys. Tell me all about school. And your hobbies. Do you play videogames?”

Wanda watches her family interact, laughing at certain things, and looking at her mother with fascination.

There’s a certain guilt that takes over when she understands she wasted three years of her life for something that could have been solved with an honest conversation.

One day, her mother will be gone and she’ll regret not having spent more time with her.

There’s also another regret in the back of her mind.

She wishes you had met her mother.

“Excuse me for a moment” she says, standing up from the table and walking to the bathroom. She covers her mouth to stop from sobbing, but there are tears in her eyes and a weight in her stomach that doesn’t let her sleep or eat or live.

Wanda fucked up so badly and now she’ll never see you again.

“Oh, God” she says, trying to breath, and fix her makeup. She can’t let the boys see her like this.

It’s been an overwhelming day, that’s all.

I’m fine.

“Is everyone done? I’m cleaning the kitchen” she says as soon as she comes back, picking up the plates and rushing past her family.

The cleaning keeps her hands busy and mind at ease, but she's still humming a song, just to focus on something that isn’t those awful thoughts she just had.

“I’m sorry” Pietro says, walking with the help of his cane. “I know it feels like an ambush, and I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but you’re not ok. The kids are always fighting with you, you do everything but talk about what happened and Y/N’s stuff are still in the garage. Maybe… fixing things with Mama can give you some perspective. I don’t know. I’m a burden most of the time, without being able to walk or do more around here. I just wanted to help”

Wanda keeps cleaning, never turning around to ackowledge her brother. He sighs, scratching the back of his head and turning to leave the kitchen.

“You’ll never be a burden, Pietro” is all Wanda says, finally turning to look at him. He smiles.

“Try to get some rest”

“You too”

“Oh, and Daniel definitely deserved to get his ass kicked”

“I agree” Wanda laughs. “Don’t tell the kids, though”

Pietro makes a motion, as if sealing his lips.

Their mom walks to hug him, saying goodbye for the day.

“You can sleep in my room, I can take the couch” Wanda offers.

“None of that. Mrs. Davies is excited over her very first guest and I won’t be the one to disappoint that sweet woman. Get some rest. Tomorrow I’m making borsch”

“You don’t have to cook, I can handle it”

“Of course I have to. Your brother needs to gain some weight!” the woman says, kissing her daughter in both cheeks. She says something in Sokovian about her children eating all that American food, walking out to Mrs. Davies house.

Wanda’s done with cleaning, and she goes upstairs to say goodnight to the kids.

“Hey. You’re not grounded. Ok?” Wanda says when Billy falls asleep, looking at Tommy. “Thank you for looking after your brother”

“I am older by ten minutes” he says, like Pietro always does. Wanda smiles, kissing his forehead.

“Sleep well, sweet boy”

And as she walks to her room, that feels so empty ever since that night one month ago, Wanda’s not sure how long she can handle pretending that one day, your abscence won’t hurt as much.

—

She could fix this.

You always fixed things.

Wanda had gotten the message. You disappeared, no calls or texts, not even to let her know where you were staying.

And when she tried to reach out, you never answered.

But now she was worried and scared, and most of all, sorry for the things she had said to you.

Wanda needed to apologize, to tell you how much she loved you.

But even if that was the only thing on her mind, she was standing outside the hospital, trying to gather the courage to come in.

“Wanda” a voice said behind her. Although it was familiar, Wanda was disappointed when she turned around and saw Carol Danvers.

“Hey… I was just… I was looking for Y/N”

“Oh. Uh… you haven’t heard?” Carol stumbled with her words, caught completely off guard.

“Heard what? Is Y/N ok?” Wanda’s heart began to race… maybe you were injured and it was exactly why you hadn’t replied to any of her messages, or answered the phone when she called.

“Yeah, uh… oh, crap” Carol looked over Wanda’s shoulder. “If I were you I’d run back to my car”

“What?” Wanda turned around, her eyes meeting Darcy’s.

“You!” the brunette barked, walking faster. “You’re about to find out why I got banned from lacrosse in college, Maximoff”

“Let’s calm down” Carol asked, stepping between the two of them.

“No! I will not calm down. I hope you’re proud of yourself, Wanda. You told Y/N everything she’s always been afraid of hearing. That you can’t trust her or the 'we’ll be better without you', fucking fantastic, really!”

“Darcy, come on, we should get back inside” Carol said, pleading with Maria to help her. But Darcy was not done.

“All this bullshit of making her move in with you and be a family for what? To kick her out just because you had a shitty day? Because she was saving a life?”

“I just… I know I screwed up, but if I could just talk to her…”

“Well, for that you’d have to get on a plane to Boston. Because Y/N quit” Darcy said, amused at Wanda’s shocked expression. “Yeah, my best friend left without a second thought because of you. Way to screw over everyone, Wanda”

“I didn’t want this to happen”

“That’s not good enough, unfortunately. You got lucky, because Danver’s here. But I’m being serious, if I see you again I’m gonna make an even bigger scene”

Maria went after Darcy, who was clearly pissed off, leaving Carol and Wanda outside of the hospital.

“Do you know if she’s ok?” Wanda asked, looking down.

“She doesn’t answer anyone’s calls or texts, Wanda. All I know is she quit one week ago and got on a plane to Boston”

“Right… Well, I better go” she said, biting her lip. “Thanks for keeping Darcy from killing me”

“Yeah, we’re understaffed with Y/N gone. So I can’t really let Darcy get arrested” Carol joked, though it was also one way of reminding Wanda her actions had impacted a whole group of people outside of her.

“See you” Wanda nodded, walking fast to her car. Chief Fury almost clashed against her, as Wanda was looking anywhere but the path in front of her.

“I’m sorry”

“Bet you are” the man grumbled, walking to the hospital.

Even another man in a motorcycle couldn’t keep from staring at Wanda, his blue eyes cold as ice.

So, Wanda got on her car, and left without lookig back.

She lost you. Forever.

—-

“Morning” a very upbeat voice speaks as Ekaterina walks down the stairs.

“Morning, Mrs. Davies” she says, smiling.

“Oh, please, call me Sharon. Would you like some coffee?”

“I’ll take some tea”

“Of course. Very healthy!” the woman says, getting everything ready. Ekaterina takes a moment to look around, admiring all the plants in the room and the flower wallpaper.

“Are you a gardener?”

“Only for fun” Sharon says, putting some biscuits in a plate. “Can I just say, I love your accent?”

Ekaterina smiles, but keeps from answering that. Though people were nice about it, she knew others had always been critical of her for not learning “proper” English when her family moved to America.

Which is why she was happy to return to Sokovia when things settled. The US was never her home, even if it was for her children.

“Was the family happy to see you?”

“Oh, yes. Especially my daughter” Ekaterina jokes, though it flies over Sharon’s head. Of course she doesn’t know that they have a complicated relationship. “I do hope she has been a good neighbor to you. I raised her to be kind”

“Oh, she’s great. Always baking stuff for everyone, the kids are very polite and well behaved too. She’s a great girl, just as Y/N. They were good together. I hope Y/N is doing ok” Sharon says, pouring every single detail that Ekaterina wanted to know.

Well, seems like it’s gonna be easier than she thought.

“Yes, this Y/N girl. Can you tell me more about her?” she says in a casual tone, and Sharon is happy to talk about you.

“Well, she moved to the neighborhood like two years ago. She’s a surgeon, always working. Honestly, very quiet but very nice. One time I fell in the sidewalk and she slept in the couch just to make sure someone was around in case I needed something”

Very impressive. It was the kind of thing that would make Ekaterina approve of anyone dating her children.

“And she was with Wanda?”

“Well… I’m not sure I should talk about this” Sharon hesitates for the first time.

“I’m just curious, as a mother…”

Ah, the mother card.

It works so well.

“Of course, you’re right! It’s not like I’ll tell you things you can’t figure out on your own” Sharon laughs, thinking of everything she remembers. “Well, Y/N lived across the street from Wanda, which is probably how they started talking. You know, young people understand each other better than us”

“So they were together?”

“Yes, I think Agatha saw them almost a year ago… on a date or something. And then, it was kinda nice to see Y/N around a bit more. Ya know, it was obvious she was spending more time at home, to help with the boys. They adore her. Always running around with her, playing. It was nice to see them all be a family” Sharon’s enthusiasm dies down.

“And then?”

“Humm” she says, sighing. “I honestly don’t know. The last time I saw Y/N she was walking out of the house and she got into her car. She didn’t have any bags or anything, so I just assumed she was going to the hospital… but then she never came back”

“And you have no idea what happened?” Ekaterina pushes forward, curious to check if the woman’s being honest.

“No, I’m sorry”

“Mudak”

“Oh, can I ask what that word means?” Sharon says, smiling. She loves learning new words.

“It means motherfucker” Ekaterina answers, her accent heavy.

“Wow, ok” Sharon giggles nervously. “You know who could have that information? Agatha. Yeah, her girlfriend works at the hospital. She’s kinda scary”

“Agatha or her girlfriend?”

“Both, definitely both”

“How can I speak to them?” Ekaterina says, trying to piece everything together.

She can manage scary. Especially when she’s looking for answers.

—

Billy’s in a mood again. He didn’t want to go to school, and he’s still refusing to go to soccer practice.

“Daniel’s gonna keep annoying me” he mutters.

“I will speak with his father today” Wanda says, driving them both to school. “I’m sure it’s gonna be fine, sweetheart”

“Y/N would kick his ass” Billy says in a low voice, but Wanda still hears.

“Don’t speak like that. And violence is not the answer”

“Yeah, well, Daniel’s a jerk, his dad too and I want to talk to Y/N. She’s the only one that can make everything right again”

“Enough!” Wanda shouts, pulling up to drop them off. “Y/N’s not coming back. You hear me? She’s gone. We don’t need her, we’ve been fine on our own our whole lives”

“You’re lying. I hate you” he says, running out of the car.

Wanda’s speechless.

This is the first time she’s had a fight with her sweet boys. The first time they’ve been mean or said something to hurt her.

She was expecting this as they got old, maybe 13. But now?

“Bye, Mom” Tommy says, walking after his brother. He’s nervous too. He knows he can’t get into any more trouble or he might get suspended, but Daniel’s not the nicest kid.

“Oh, damn it” she looks behind her to notice Billy left his lunch. “Kids!”

“Hey, Wanda” Richard calls for her. “Heard our guys had a little fight. I was hoping we could talk about it. Maybe over dinner?”

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. Is he really flirting right now?

“Yeah, I should actually…”

“No need to apologize, boys will be boys, right?”

“Apologize?” Wanda tilts her head, the way she always does when she’s pissed. “I wasn’t planning on doing that. And neither is Tommy”

“Well, he started the fight”

“No, Daniel was repeating the stupid things you say. Like how it’s wrong for two women to date. And he also insulted Billy” Wanda says, crossing her arms. “The way I see it, it’s the proverbial talk shit, get hit”

“Wow, ok, no need to get emotional”

“No, I’m not emotional. I’m just saying, if you ever say anything bad about Y/N or my kids and I get wind of it, I’m running you over with my car. See ya, Dick”

Fucking asshole.

Wanda can practically hear you say those words. Though you’d be a lot scarier, telling him all the ways in which he could get hurt using medical terms he wouldn’t even begin to understand.

You’d never let anything bad happen to your family.

Wanda decides to play the loudest music on the way back home. Yes, death metal from her emo phase -something you’d tease her for relentlessly before-.

As she pulls over in the driveway, her mother knocks on the window, making Wanda jump.

“Why are you still listening to that devil music? I thought that phase was over!”

“Mom!”

“Are you ok?”

“Fine”

“Yeah, I can tell”

“Ok, I don’t have time for this, I need to drive Pietro to rehab. Do you need anything from the store?”

“Yes, many things! Like actual paprikash. I can’t believe you buy US made. That’s why you can’t get the food right”

“Seriously?”

“Settle down, you two” Pietro asks, coming out of the house. It was a fun time, being a teenager and hearing his sister and mother argue over every single thing. They’re too much alike, that’s the only problem.

“Anyways, I will go to store, Sharon is letting me drive her car”

“Ok, does she know about the time you almost destroyed a McDonald’s with Papa’s car?”

“He said drive through, so I did!”

“Yeah, through the wall” Pietro laughs, earning a slap on the back of the head from his mother.

“You, go to your thing. And I’m picking up Billy from school today. He doesn’t want to go do soccer, so we’re going to get ice cream” Ekaterina says casually.

“It’s not optional for him! I’m the mom here”

“Just for a day. I hardly think it will affect him if he doesn’t run around like dog after a ball. Take Sparky instead” the woman says.

Wanda wants to scream into a pillow.

—

Ekaterina comes back from the store, but instead of parking outside of Wanda’s, she leaves the car right outside of Agatha’s home.

The investigation continues.

After a knock, a woman with dark, long hair and piercing blue eyes opens the door.

“You the OG Mrs. Maximoff” she greets, standing aside to let her in.

“I don’t know what those words mean. I’m Wanda and Pietro’s mother”

“Ooh, I love the accent. I love learning languages. My girlfriend is teaching me Spanish”

Before Ekaterina can answer, there’s a frantic knock, and Sharon walks inside the minute Agatha opens the door.

“I hope I’m not too late”

“I didn’t know we were having a party” Agatha says. She doesn’t really like visitors, and Mrs. Davies' enthusiasm and corny jokes are an acquired taste.

“Alright. What do you want to know?” Agatha leans back in her chair, intrigued by the woman.

Why not just ask her own daughter? Though, considering how Wanda’s been acting, she’ll probably refuse to answer any questions about it.

“Why did Y/N leave? Where did she go?”

“Ok, so… I need a minute because Rio was telling me everything in Spanish so I could learn. You know, using gossip as motivation” Agatha massages her temples, trying to remember everything. “Ok, there was a new doctor, something, something, cheating, slapping, break up”

“What?” Ekaterina says. “Are you saying that woman slapped my daughter?”

“No! Well, I don’t think so. Ah, screw it! Amor!” Agatha shouts, calling for Rio. “Ponte ropa y baja a contarles el chisme”

“Está bien” a voice says. A few minutes later, another woman joins them in the living room, wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

“You called?”

“Ok, so I kinda lied when I said I understood everything you said in Spanish. I do remember the name Natasha. And something about a kiss” Agatha smiles, and Rio can’t really stay mad when her girlfriend is looking all cute.

“So, a few months ago, Natasha Romanoff came to the hospital to teach a method developed by her mother. The Romanoffs are a very wealthy, very famous family of doctors. And everyone in the hospital kinda noticed that Natasha was flirting with Y/N”

“Did Y/N flirt back? Was she cheating on my daughter?”

“I meaaan, 50/50. The hospital was split. Some people believed that she was just being nice and others thought there were feelings involved”

“What do you think?” Ekaterina presses.

“I think Y/N was just being flirty but she never meant for anything else to happen. She’s just naturally personable. Even she can manage to make me laugh from time to time. So, I don’t know. There was a rumor that Natasha kissed her once or was trying to talk her into breaking up with Wanda… which, I guess has some truth to it, considering Y/N moved to Boston to work for the Romanoffs”

“I’m sorry, then who slapped who?” Mrs. Davies asks, confused.

“Oh, Y/N’s mother outside the hospital, but that's not related to Wanda. Darcy told me that woman is awful. Used to put Y/N through hell when she was a kid”

“Yeah, I know the feeling” Agatha mumbles and Rio places her hand on her shoulder, comforting her.

“I don’t like this Y/N” Ekaterina decides. “She was weak and got my family hurt”

“I don’t think that’s exactly accurate…” Agatha says, feeling the need to defend you. She knows you, and you’d never do anything to hurt Wanda. Not on purpose. “Look, I was looking for my bunny that night. Little shit likes to escape out of the blue. Wanda was the one who ended things. I heard that loud and clear. And yes, it seems messy, but I don’t think it’s fair to blame it all on someone”

“Yeah, Y/N really loved the kids and took care of Wanda” Sharon insists. Ekaterina sighs, crossing her arms.

“I don’t suppose anyone knows how to get in touch with Y/N”

Agatha, Rio and Sharon share a look.

“I could try” Rio offers, thinking Darcy might be in touch with you.

“Thank you. Now I go to pick up Billy from school. I appreciate your help”

“I actually need the car for a bit” Sharon asks, but the woman is already gone. “Oh, well”

—

True to her word, Ekaterina picked up Billy from school, while Tommy was supposed to ride with Sharon and her kid to soccer.

Wanda wasn’t really looking forward to practice today, in case Richard was there.

Thankfully, it seemed like Daniel was here with his mother, but Wanda’s stomach dropped when Susan walked up to her.

“Wanda, can we talk for a sec?”

“Yeah, sure”

They walked away from the rest of the parents.

“Look, I know what Daniel said and I already talked to him about it. He’ll apologize to Tommy and Billy, but I wanted to tell you personally how asahmed I am. Those awful things are all Richard and I really don’t want Daniel to be like his father”

“Oh… wow. I don’t know what to say” Wanda laughs, relieved. “Your ex had a very different approach to this whole situation”

“I know, he’s an asshole”

Both women laugh at that.

“I was going to say, he can speak to Tommy after practice, but I haven’t seen him today. Or Billy”

“Oh, Billy’s with my mother. But Sharon picked up Tommy…” though when Wanda looks around the field, she doesn’t see her son. Spotting Sharon, she runs up to her. “Hey, Tommy rode with you, right?”

“What? Wanda, he said he was feeling ill and that you were going to pick him up”

“No, that never… I-I don’t have any missed calls. No one from school told me anything. Shit!” she curses, her hands shaking. Her mother takes forever to pick up the phone. “Is Tommy with you? No, I know Billy’s there. What about Tommy? Ok, I don’t have time to explain, meet me at home now”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think to call you” Sharon says.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m sure it’s fine” Wanda repeats, trying to calm herself.

Her first instinct is to call you.

But then she has to think really hard on what to do, so she calls Pietro to make sure Tommy isn’t home by some weird miracle. Should she call the cops? The fire department?

Clint, he will know what to do.

“Ok, I’ll meet you at your house, it’s gonna be fine” Clint says.

“You good to drive?” Susan says, walking Wanda to the car.

“Yes. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding and Tommy’s in his room playing videogames”

“Well, ok, if you need anything here’s my number” the woman says.

Wanda goes over everything that could have happened. Tommy likes to visit the library, the park on Fullton street, the comic book store…

Clint’s already there when she gets home, and Ekaterina parks a second later.

“Billy, come here” Wanda kneels to look at her son. “Did Tommy tell you anything? Was he going somewhere?”

Billy shakes his head no, and Wanda insists.

“Sweetheart, are you sure? I promise I won’t be mad”

“I don’t know, I swear”

“Alright, I just spoke to my friend at the station. They’re gonna start looking for him. Pietro should stay here in case Tommy comes back or someone calls home. The rest of us could split and check places we know he frequents” Clint says.

“Billy, stay with uncle Pietro” Wanda asks. The boy nods, walking up the stairs to meet his uncle, who puts his arm around his shoulders.

“I’ll go to the arcade” Clint offers. “Ask if anyone’s seen him”

“We’ll go to the park” Wanda nods, waiting for her mother to join her in the car. She can’t even begin to understand what’s happening.

Wanda doesn’t know what to do, but she has to remain calm, because her son needs her.

—

Tommy’s begining to think this is a bad idea. He doesn’t have a lot of money and he doesn’t have a clue on what bus will take him to Boston.

He should be at soccer practice now.

He finds a cafeteria not far from school, and goes inside hoping he can get some free water.

“You alone, sweetheart?” the waitress says, concerned.

“No, my mom is in the bathroom” he lies and the woman doesn’t seem entirely convinced. Either way, she leaves him alone. Tommy takes the time to dig in his backpack for some extra coins that might be in there.

Instead he finds a letter and a couple of pins.

After reading it, he walks up to the waitress and finally tells the truth.

“I ran away. Can you help me find my mom?”

“Of course, sweetheart”

—-

“Where should we go?” her mother asks, and Wanda points in the direction of the lake.

“He liked to feed the ducks with Y/N”

“Ok, then”

They walk in silence, Wanda’s thoughts racing until her mother speaks.

“I lost you once. You were four or five, maybe, and we were at the market. While your brother picked out the apples, you decided to run after a chicken. And I was so scared, calling for you in the sea of people”

“Yeah. It’s an awful feeling” Wanda says, wiping away the tears.

They walk around the park for ten minutes before deciding he’s not here. Tommy’s nowhere to be found. He’s a ten year old, for God’s sake, where on Earth could he be?

Before she has time to think it twice, Wanda picks up the phone and dials your number.

“Hello?”

That’s not your voice.

It’s Natasha’s.

Wanda hangs up, and adds this to the list of shitty things that have happened to her in the span of two days.

“Mom, I can’t!” she finally breaks down. “I don’t know how to fix this. I miss her so much and I ruined everything and she’s never coming back. And now my boys hate me and I have nothing. All because I was so stuck in the past. And I lost her”

“Breathe. Breathe for me” Ekaterina pulls her daughter into a hug, while Wanda’s body shakes with the strenght of her sobs. “It’s ok. It will be ok”

“It doesn’t feel like it”

“Trust me” she says, waiting until Wanda calms down. After a few minutes, she wipes her tears and looks at her mother. Wanda’s about to say something else when her phone rings again.

“Oh, it’s Clint. Hello? Yes, where? Ok, send me the address and I’ll be right there” she hangs up, sprinting to the car. “He’s at a cafeteria not far from school”

“Thank God”

It’s only a five minute drive but to Wanda it feels like an eternity. As soon as she parks, she spots Tommy sitting at the counter, drinking a milkshake while a waitress talks to him, trying to ease his nerves.

“Is that your mom?” the woman says when Wanda gets inside. Tommy’s eyes widen, and he runs towards her.

“Mama!”

“Oh, Tommy. I was so worried about you”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s ok. I’m just happy you’re safe. Let’s go home”

—

The kids are safely tucked in bed, and Wanda’s having a glass of wine in the kitchen. She’d drink something stronger if she had anything at all.

Her mind goes back to the fact Natasha picked up your phone.

It doesn’t mean you’re with her. And even if you were, Wanda was the one that broke up with you.

Then why did it hurt so much to think you’d already moved on?

With a sigh, she goes up the stairs. Wanda can’t help but go into her children’s room, just to make sure they’re both safe.

When she asked Tommy what happened, he just said he wanted to go and see you. But then he changed his mind when he found something in his backpack. Though he wouldn’t tell Wanda what it was.

As the woman walks up to her children, she notices a letter tucked under Tommy’s pillow.

Could this be the thing he found?

Billy and Tommy,

Hey kiddos. This isn’t something I’m happy about and I never really wanted to write a letter like this one.

You might not see me anymore. I know it sucks, because I promised I’d take you to the state fair and Universal Studios when the school year was over.

The thing is, sometimes grown ups have a lot of complicated things going on. Sometimes things don’t work out no matter how much we try.

Be good to your mom, ok? If you miss me and want me to be less worried about you, just promise me you’ll love her extra for me. You are her biggest treasure and she’s such a great mom. Don’t forget you’re all each other have.

PS - I’m leaving my lucky pins with you. Please take care of them for me.

Love you three,

Y/N

Of course.

Of course it was you.

Even if you were thousand of miles away, you had found a way to help Wanda and keep her family safe.

Now she won’t be able to sleep at all, so she goes downstairs to the garage, full of boxes with your clothes and books.

For the first time since you left, Wanda allows herself to look at everything you left behind, and everything you did. The smallest things, like how you always forget to wear glasses to read, and you end up with a frown. Sunday’s crossword puzzle, always discarded. It’s not that you don’t finish it, the opposite. You know the answers to everything so fast that writing them is a waste of time.

Wanda pulls out your college sweatshirt, hugging it tight against her chest.

She misses you, so much it hurts.

As she puts on the sweatshirt, Wanda folds the sleeves, slightly long for her shorter arms.

When she’s about to close the box, she sees it.

A small box. For a ring.

An engagement ring.

She let’s out a gasp as she opens it.

You were proposing.

And all Wanda did was question your committment and your love for her and the children.

I’m such an idiot.

She doesn’t have much time to wallow, though. Wanda’s phone rings, and her mouth goes dry when she reads the name on the screen.

You.

Looking between her phone and the ring, Wanda doesn’t know what to do.

Should she tell you she found the ring?

Would it make a difference at all?

[wooataes]

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part 11)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Hanahaki!AU, angst, all hurt no comfort, swearing, tears, the usual 🙂‍↕️

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: It has been WAY too long since I've updated this story and I apologise for that 🙂‍↕️ I finally feel like I've gotten my life back on track to finally be able to post a long awaited update!! Thank you to everyone who still reads and enjoys my fics, it means a lot ! 🥹 - Tae 💜🌸✨

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“Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“His girlfriend left him, genius. What do you think is wrong with him?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. His housemates have as much subtlety as an earthquake. Their naturally loud voices seep through the closed door of his bedroom as he stares at his ceiling, a sigh leaving his lungs in the darkness as the outside voices drone on.

“Hyung,” Mingyu sighs. “It’s been over a week now… Should we call someone?”

“Who would we call?” Junhui retorts. “His soulmate? Because up until last week, I thought his soulmate was Ji-ah.”

The mention of her name creates another pit in Jihoon’s stomach. He hates it. He wishes he could just get over the stupid emotions that run through his veins at the mere thought of his not-soulmate, now also not-girlfriend.

“His parents are hours away and he has no siblings that we can contact.” Junhui continues, frustration laced in his voice. “I don’t know who we could call.”

“Doesn’t hyung have a cousin who-”

“I can hear everything you guys are saying. You know that, right?” 

Jihoon’s hard voice carries through the door, his housemates falling silent on the other end.

“Jihoon-ah.” A deep voice mutters, causing him to tense up. He knows that Wonwoo knows how to get through to him. “Can we talk?”

After a long pause, Jihoon’s bedroom door slightly creaks open. “Wonwoo, I told you yesterday,” he stares at the ground, refusing to make eye contact with the older man. “I am fine-”

“You are not, Jihoon-ah. And we both know it.” 

“How do you know?” He snips.

“You haven’t left your bedroom since Ji-ah left you last week.” Jihoon sucks his teeth at her name.

“I never left my bedroom before she left me.” He hisses back.

“Yes, you did.” Wonwoo retorts back. 

“When? To go on dates with her?” he barks. “To take her out? To go visit her family? Well, guess what? She is gone, Wonwoo, so I have a whole lot more free time and I choose to spend that time at home.” his voice cracks slightly, bottom lip shaking as he moves to close the door once more, his frown deepening as Mingyu grabs a hold of the door before it closes.

“Hyung, we’re sorry.” Mingyu’s voice is softer now as he looks at him with sad eyes. “We’re so fucking sorry that you’re going through this but we are here for you and want to be there for you.”

“I don’t need-”

“Please don’t push us away.” Wonwoo frowns, his hand resting over Jihoons. “Jihoon-ah…”

Jihoon shakes his head quietly, a small hiccup leaving his lips. “Wonwoo, I promise, I’m fine.” He gently lets his hand fall from Wonwoo’s as he moves to shut the door to his bedroom once more, wiping the stray tears that threaten to spill from his eyes.

“I truly don’t know what to do, guys.” Jihoon winces at the defeated tone of his older housemate’s voice as he climbs back into the comfort of his bed once more, hoping to forget about the world around him for a little bit longer.

Jihoon heaves a loud sigh as he steps into his first Film Studies class in nearly two weeks, slumping down in his chair, rubbing at his temples slightly as Professor Park begins his usual droning on. He really should be listening to the lecture at hand, but he can’t bring himself to. Not when he can feel the eyes of multiple people in the class lingering on him. He’s sure that word has gotten around now about his very public dumping and the fact that Ji-ah was obviously never his soulmate. He hates that he can feel the sympathy radiating off of his peers, and even off of you, his real soulmate, sitting directly beside him with your stupid perfect hair and stupidly neat notes that you wordlessly offered him to help catch him up on the classes he missed. He accepts them graciously, spending most of the lesson copying your notes into his notebook.

“Professor,” a deep voice from the back of the room calls out near the end of the lesson, drawing Jihoon from his thoughts. 

“Yes, Jaebeom?” 

Your soulmate glances at you at the sight of your body tensing up at the mention of the newcomer’s name. He tilts his head slightly as he feels nerves begin to bubble in the pit of his stomach from you, causing him to raise a brow. You take a slow breath before scribbling idly on your page again, indifference on your face, but Jihoon knows it’s a front. 

Why are you so tense?

“About the extension on our group project?” Jaebeom’s voice lulls out in a drawl, a clear cockiness hidden in his tone. 

“Ah yes,” Professor Park hums, nodding his head. “I know some of you have gone ahead and already submitted your essays and presentations to me, and I’m thankful for you guys for getting these to me on time and even earlier. For the remainder of you all who have yet to submit your projects, I’ve extended the deadline by two weeks, due to an unavoidable event I must attend.”

Jihoon hears his classmate’s sighs of relief, and in turn, he breathes out as well. He knew he had neglected his end of his project with you for the last week, and he feels grateful that he can make up for it.

“I do hope the rest of you,” Professor Park sends a look to the back of the room, “get this done in due time. Class dismissed.”

Jihoon wordlessly offers your notebook back to you, a frown forming on his face when he sees you duck your head, letting your hair fall over your face. He glances to see a taller man wearing low jeans and a beat up baseball cap on his head march- no, strut down the stairs to reach the door, sauntering out with what Jihoon can only describe as a sleazy grin on his face. Once he steps out of the room, you immediately collect your things, bow your head to Jihoon with a little smile, and jump up to leave the classroom.

“Professor,” your soulmate approaches the teacher. “I appreciate you extending the deadline-”

“Oh, Jihoon-ssi!” Professor Park smiled. “Are you feeling better? Miss Choi told me that you were unwell when she submitted your project to me last week.”

“Oh.. Yeah, I’m feeling alri- Wait. Submitted?” Jihoon blinked.

“Yes,” he smiled. “Both of your arguments had wonderful points to pit against each other. Well done! I will be posting your grades in a few weeks!”

You finished off the project for him? Why are you so… nice?

“Uh… Thank you, Professor.” Jihoon bows his head in thanks before slowly stepping out of the classroom, starting to walk in the direction of home, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance.

Jihoon takes a deep sigh as he finds himself sitting down at the park bench that is so familiar to him now, letting the raindrops land on his clothes and face as he tilts his head back.

“Jihoon-ssi?” your voice is quiet over the sound of the loud rain, but Jihoon could hear you. He always does. He blinks as he feels the heavy raindrops that land on his hoodie abruptly stop, looking up to see a pastel umbrella being held over his now drenched body. “What are you doing out here?”

Jihoon shrugs quietly for a moment. “I… don’t know.” He glances down at the wet sleeves of his hoodie. “Just.. Thinking.”

“Well, I think you should think away from a torrential downpour next time,” you quip with a little smile, hoping the joke makes him crack a smile.

“Nah,” he hums. “It’s comforting, the rain..” 

“Comforting?” You echo, tilting your head innocently as he hums a confirmation.

“Mm. Rain doesn’t have colour.” He glances at you for a moment, slightly amused by the cluelessness on your face as you just blink at him. “Ah, it’s silly, really,” he continues. “The sky doesn’t have colour when it rains, it reminds me of what the world looked like before everything changed. Everything is so different now.”

“You’re right.” You agree quietly. “Everything is different.”

“Thank you,” Jihoon mumbles after a brief silence. “For helping finish off the project while I was… y’know.”

“Oh, that?” You shrug. “That was nothing. You had all the arguments, I just articulated them for you. Figured that you already had enough on your plate so I thought you wouldn’t mind if I submitted a little early to get it out of the way for the both of us.”

“How do you do it?”

“Huh? Do what?”

“... Live.” Jihoon’s voice is barely above a whisper as you settle down on the park bench beside Jihoon, still holding the umbrella over his head. “How do you just live life so damn happily while you feel like absolute shit all the time? And don’t deny that you don’t, I have felt every single emotion you have felt for weeks now.”

You pause for a moment, looking up at the sky before humming. “I suppose I just got used to it.” You shrug. “It kind of just became like a background noise for me. It’s just always there.” 

“Even when the pain is doubled now? Because of me?”

You shrug once more. “It’s not something I haven’t dealt with before. I can feel the pain for both of us, Jihoon-ssi. It’s okay.” You give him a little smile. “I have had a lot more practice at loss than you have.”

Jihoon feels the irritation bubbling up inside him slowly.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

You blink in confusion as you glance at him. “Huh?”

“I have experienced loss too, you know.”

“I know that, I just-”

“I am more than capable of feeling these emotions too.” He frowns.

“I know,” you emphasize, “I just wanted you to know you don’t have to face them on your own.”

Jihoon scoffs quietly. Who does she think she is, giving him advice on how to deal with his emotions? “I know that too. You don’t need to point out the obvious, Choi.”

“Do you know that?” You retort, raising an eyebrow. “Because from what Mingyu told me, you’ve barely left your room until this week.”

“Ugh,” Jihoon groans, leaning his head back. “Am I not allowed to have time to myself?”

“Of course you are,” you sigh. “But you’re also-”

“You know, you should think about facing your emotions on your own instead of relying on everyone else around you.” Jihoon hisses at you with a glare as you freeze with wide eyes. 

“H-huh?” He can feel your doubt seeping into his veins.

“Your brother, his soulmate, Soonyoung, Seokmin,” he rambles. “They’re always at your beck and call when they could be living their own lives with each other and not have to worry about you every five fucking minutes like you’re their child.”

“I…” You balk, Jihoon wincing at the feeling of your stomach twisting inside him. But he doesn't care, he wants you to hurt as much as he does. It’s your fault he doesn’t have Ji-ah anymore, afterall.

“Just go away!” He barks. “When will you realize that your help isn’t needed?! You’re not needed! I lost the one girl I truly fucking loved because of YOU! Why would I want you around?! Leave me alone already!”

After a long silence, Jihoon finally turns his head to look at you, staring at him for what seems like hours with the same look that you had on the day you brushed hands for the first time. That isn’t what frightens your soulmate, though. What frightens him is the fact that he can’t feel anything inside him anymore, besides his own pain.

“... sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” You mumble robotically, delicately placing the umbrella beside him before rising and walking through the heavy rain in the direction of your house, letting the rain run down your clothes.

“Fuck.” Jihoon sighs heavily and buries his face into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut as he hears your footsteps move further and further away.

He needs to apologize. He knows he does. He knows he said those words out of anger and hurt, and he knows you definitely didn’t deserve it. 

But why can’t he find it in himself to go to you and do it? You’re literally two tables away from him right now.

Jihoon, he scolds himself, it’s been days. You need to man up and tell her you’re sorry. 

Could he be worrying a little now because since he confronted you, he has felt no emotions whatsoever from you? Has he finally lost the tether from you?

“Hello you!!” A loud, cheery voice snaps him into reality. He blinks as he stares at his cup of ramen in his hand, fidgeting on the hard steel of the cafeteria chair underneath him, trying to figure out where the loud voice had come from.

Seungkwan makes his way over to where you’re sitting, draping himself over your back. Before he can ask how you are, you jolt up quickly, scooting away from him like you’ve been burned.

“Hey.” You give him a little smile, pressing yourself up against the wall. “Where’s Hansol? You should be with Hansol.”

Seungkwan’s face contorts slightly as he sticks his lips out in almost a pout. “He had to run to make his next class… Bug, what’s wrong-”

“I actually have to run too, Kwan.” You stammer out quickly, grabbing your backpack and stepping out from behind the table. “Talk later?”

“But, you haven’t even touched your lunch…” his voice fades out as he watches you rush quickly out of the cafeteria, surprise etched on his face.

Jihoon watches on, just as surprised as Seungkwan as he reaches the table with him, Soonyoung and Seokmin.

“Okay, what the hell was that? What happened to Bug?” Seungkwan immediately questions Soonyoung, who upon further inspection, looks just as out of it as you are.

“We don’t know,” Seokmin speaks for his soulmate. “Every time she’s at home, she stays locked up in her room and only leaves to cook dinner for us and clean up. She didn’t even come down for movie night the other night.”

Your soulmate’s eyes widened slightly as Soonyoung took a deep breath. “Something has happened and she won’t tell us what. She doesn’t even speak when she’s at home anymore.”

“We’ve tried to talk to her, get her to come out of her room, do anything, but she doesn’t budge. I’m getting worried.” Seokmin bites his lip.

“I don’t know what the hell has happened to our Bug. She is literally just doing fucking chores and whenver one of us tries to hang out..” your best friend rubs at his temples. “She keeps insisting we hang out with our soulmates. With each other. I don’t know why the fuck that doesn’t mean she can’t hang out with us too.”

Jihoon feels sick as your housemate’s words sink in to him.

When will you realize your help isn’t needed? You’re not needed!

Fuck.

“Jesus Christ, Jihoon-ah.” Wonwoo breathes out when Jihoon finally steps through the door. “You were supposed to be back four hours ago. What the hell were you- Jihoon-ah?” 

His eyes widened at the sight of his housemate stepping under the lights of the hallway, lip trembling and hair sticking in six different directions. Jihoon truly didn’t mean to take so long making it home. He supposes he lost track of time wandering campus with his racing mind.

He knew his words had gotten to you. At the moment it felt good, for you to feel the pain he did. But now? Seeing his friends, your family agonizing over how detached you are? 

What has he done?

“Jihoon…” Junhui looks on worriedly, reaching forward to slip the backpack off his housemate’s shoulders.

“I… I knew what I was getting into when I chose to date her, Wonwoo.” His voice quivers as he stares at the ground. “I knew that she already had a soulmate, but… I-I didn’t think…” 

“Of course you didn’t.” Wonwoo agrees.

“She told me that he had moved countries years ago… There was no chance he’d come back…” a small tear slides down his cheek as his housemate hums in acknowledgement. “And when I… when I found my soulmate and I-” Jihoon chokes back a sob. “And I rejected them to keep a hold of Ji-ah…” His soft cries echo into the quiet hallway. “I… I felt their heart break inside of me, I’ve felt their pain for weeks a-and now I feel their pain on top of my own and… fuck, I broke her, man.”

“Oh, Jihoon…” Junhui sighs sympathetically as Wonwoo pulls Jihoon towards him, bringing his head into his shoulder as his arms wrap around his back in a warm embrace. 

Jihoon pauses for a moment. He blinks once, twice, and a third time before he lets out a soft sob, his hands gripping onto Wonwoo’s shoulders desperately as he buries his face into the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Hyung,” he chokes out. “I r-really fucked up.”

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[rainytapestry]

⭑｡𖦹°‧ㅤㅤBLUE ㅤ— ㅤㅤjay x f.reader ㅤㅤ wc 0.7k

where your boyfriend always knows a way to make your worries melt away

★ — hurt/comfort angst estd. relation fluff academic pressure :( jay being the sweetest bf

you looked at all the books and notes spread out in front of you, and the painfully waiting cursor of the blank document, as if urging you to start the assignment. but it felt… all too much, too overwhelming for you to even think about your pending works.

and before you knew it, a tear dropped down on the page, staining your messy handwriting. good here it goes again. you were tired of feeling tensed and worried about your studies.

your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rapid knocks and the bell. you turned to look at the time, 11pm. who could it even be at this late hour?

sighing, you got up to open the door before the person could ring the bell once more, only to be met with a very familiar face.

‘jay...? what are you doing here at this hour?’ you asked, unsure of how to approach the fact that your boyfriend was in front of your apartment at near midnight. the said boy who was standing quite tensed your doorstep, visibly frowned upon seeing you

‘yn, i was worried tensed! why did you not pick up my calls? you even left me on seen?! do you know how stressful that was? wait, are you…’ he trailed, finally getting a proper look at your face.

oh shit you had forgotten that your tears hadn't dried yet and he was met with a red and blotchy face.

jay quickly stepped into the apartment, his hands going up to your face, softly holding them.

‘what… happened?’ his voice was laced with concern. ‘uh, you were worried, for me?’ you refused to meet his eyes.

‘of course, babe! you are usually so active and present but all i have got are just a few messages and no calls, i thought you were sick!’ and his eyes held this earnest look, that almost made you want to start sobbing again.

as if sensing your emotions, he engulfed you in a hug and before you knew it, you were in his arms, tearing up yet again, your forehead resting on his shoulder.

‘i… i– i am sick, of this work and study and…’ you spoke through your tears, ‘jay, i don't think i can do this anymore, i feel so-so tired, it's…’ you could feel him rub small soothing circles on your back, nodding to your every word and never interrupting you, as if you could vent out all the frustration and pressure you had building in you.

the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, slowly calmed you down as you broke apart to look up at him, with a small pout. you mumbled a small sorry.

jay broke out in a smile, caressing your cheek, ‘it's okay, yn, you've been so strong and dedicated. it’s okay to let yourself catch a break, hm? it's okay to feel sad and unmotivated sometimes, right? because i know you can do it.’

‘b-but i’ ‘ssh, i trust you.’ and maybe that was all you needed to hear.

you could feel a small smile form on your face, heart a lot lighter than it had been a few minutes ago. and you couldn't thank jay enough for it.

‘okayyy now let's see how my girlfriend is doing, secluding herself like a saint, tell me the last time you had eaten, yn?’ he questioned you in a serious tone. you knew how serious he could get if you neglected your meals.

‘eh, yesterday i think…?’ ‘i'm pretty sure it was ramen.’ you guiltily nodded.

jay shook his head, not surprised but placed a firm kiss on your forehead. ‘ok, so, you, my girl, are going to sit down and relax while i make you something healthy and edible to eat. okay?’ he said, more like commanded.

you blushed at his actions before following him to the kitchen.

it was a common routine you both had fallen into, jay would cook, you would, well… try to assist.

and even though, jay protested about you helping him, you shrugged him off, just happy to spend time with your boyfriend.

‘and from now on, yn, please don't ghost me like this. i'm always here for you, love’, whispered close to your ears, pressing another small kiss to your cheek.

NOTES. hi i wrote this down cuz of the high level of procrastination and unproductivity ive been having despite my finals starting in a month :( it isnt the best feeling and i for anyone else who's going through the same, don't worry we'll get through this rough patch together >< tysm for reading this

div cttoㅤㅤ work belong to @ rainytapestry do not steal

[weekendlusting]

A TALE OF FAME

pairing ꪆৎ charles leclerc x ahaana patel ᥫ᭡. f1 driver x bollywood actress au

chapter ꪆৎ 3

summary ꪆৎ she's everything, and he just drives.

note ꪆৎ no hate to any characters used in the story, none of what i write reflects on how they actually are. all my love, happy reading.

prev

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Charles Leclerc sat in his hotel suite, fingers drumming impatiently against the glass of whiskey in his hand. He wasn’t even drinking it—just swirling the amber liquid in the dim light of his room, as if the motion itself could steady his thoughts.

Alex was late. Of course, she was. She had a way of dragging things out, prolonging the inevitable, believing that if she held on long enough, reality would bend to her will.

He heard the sharp knock at his door and exhaled slowly before getting up to open it. Alex stood there, all too put together—her blonde hair in effortless waves, her lips curved in a knowing smirk, like she already thought she’d won whatever game she was playing.

“Chéri,” she purred, stepping past him without waiting for an invitation. “Miss me?”

Charles shut the door and ran a hand through his hair. “Sit down, Alex.”

She turned, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. “Oh? We’re being serious now?” She strolled over to the couch, sitting with the grace of someone who still thought they held all the cards.

Charles didn’t sit. He remained standing, arms crossed, his jaw tight. “I told you this was over.”

Alex let out a soft laugh, tilting her head as she crossed her legs. “And yet, you called me here. Mixed signals, don’t you think?”

“I called you here,” Charles said, voice measured, “because you don’t seem to get it. We are done, Alex. Finished.”

Her smile didn’t waver, but something flickered in her eyes. “Are we?” she said smoothly. “Because I keep hearing your name next to mine. The media still calls me your girlfriend. You haven’t exactly rushed to correct them.”

Charles clenched his fists. “I shouldn’t have to. We broke up. You just refuse to accept it.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. “Or maybe you’re just confused. Maybe this—whatever this little tantrum is—will pass, and you’ll realize that I am the only woman who truly understands you.”

Charles let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Tantrum? You think I’m throwing a tantrum? Alex, I am exhausted.”

Her smirk faltered slightly, but she masked it quickly. “Exhausted of what?”

“Of you!” His voice rose, exasperation lacing every word. “Of the mind games. Of the manipulation. Of the constant need to control everything, including me.” He pointed at her. “You think if you show up enough times, if you insert yourself into my life over and over, I’ll just—what? Change my mind?”

Alex’s eyes darkened. “I wouldn’t have to insert myself into your life if certain people weren’t trying to replace me.”

Charles exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And here we go.”

She stood, arms folding as she stepped closer to him. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, Charles. That little actress you’ve been parading around—Ahaana.”

Charles’s eyes snapped to hers, his posture stiffening. “Ahaana has nothing to do with this.”

Alex scoffed. “Please. You think I don’t see the way you looked at her that day?” She stepped closer, voice dripping with venom. “She is nothing. She’s a novelty. A shiny new toy for you to play with. And once the excitement fades, you’ll realize what I’ve always known—you and I are inevitable.”

Charles’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. “You are delusional, Alex. And actually fucking crazy if you think that Ahaana has anything to do with this.”

Her lips curled. “Am I?”

“Yes,” he snapped, stepping forward, closing the space between them. “I have never—never—been more certain about anything in my life. We are over. I am breaking up with you. I don’t love you. I don’t even like you.”

She inhaled sharply, but before she could speak, Charles continued.

“You want to know why? Because I see you now. For who you really are. You’re not the woman I fell for—you’re a version of her, twisted and bitter, clinging onto something that doesn’t exist anymore.” He exhaled harshly. “You’re right about one thing. I do look at Ahaana differently. Because she isn’t like you.”

Alex’s face twisted, her hands curling into fists. “She will never be me.”

“Thank God for that.”

The silence between them was thick, charged with something dangerously close to hatred. Charles had never wanted to hate Alex—had never even imagined he could—but looking at her now, seeing the pure, unfiltered malice in her eyes, he realized he might be close.

She straightened, lifting her chin. “You’ll regret this.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I won’t.”

She stared at him, something almost desperate flickering across her features, before she masked it with indifference. “Fine,” she said. “Have it your way.”

Charles said nothing. He just watched as she turned, her heels clicking against the floor as she stormed toward the door. But before she left, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder.

“This isn’t over,” she said, voice eerily calm.

And then, she was gone.

Charles stood there for a long moment, his heart pounding, his fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.

But then he exhaled, shaking his head, as if shedding the last remnants of whatever hold Alex had on him.

For the first time in a long time, he felt free.

Meanwhile not too far away,the hotel room was bathed in soft hues of twilight, the warm amber glow of the setting sun spilling through the sheer curtains. Ahaana sat curled up in a chair by the window, her phone resting idly on the armrest. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of a coffee mug, long gone cold. The day had been uneventful, yet her mind was anything but still. The ghosts of the past lingered in the shadows, whispering doubts, tugging at old wounds she had worked so hard to forget.

India.

Film city.

Even the thought of it sent a strange chill through her veins. It wasn’t fear—not exactly. It was the weight of something unfinished, something unresolved, lurking in the corners of her memory. The industry that had once been her playground had also turned its back on her when she had needed it the most. And yet, here she was, being offered a way back in.

What the fuck is happening? She sighed to herself, rubbing her temple.

The phone buzzed suddenly, pulling her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, expecting yet another half-hearted PR email or a message from her manager. But instead, a name lit up the display, and for the first time that day, she felt something shift inside her.

Varun Dhawan.

She hesitated for only a second before answering. “Hello?”

“Finally! Madam has answered my call.” His voice was light, teasing, filled with the familiar warmth that had always made her feel like home.

Ahaana huffed out a small laugh. “Hi, Varun.”

“Hi, she says. That’s all I get? After ignoring me for days?”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.”

“Really? Because Karan and I were starting to think you had developed some severe phone phobia. Should we be concerned?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Me? Never.” His tone dropped slightly, losing some of its playful edge. “Ahaana, you know why I’m calling.”

Her smile faltered. Of course, she did.

“You and Karan are relentless,” she muttered, leaning back against the chair.

“Because we believe in you,” he countered immediately. “And because we know you still love this. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

She exhaled slowly, staring out at the dimming sky. “It’s not that simple, Varun.”

“Yes, it is.” His voice softened. “You were born for this, Ahaana. And you know it. Whatever happened before—”

She stiffened slightly. “Let’s not talk about that.”

There was a pause, as if he was choosing his next words carefully. Then, he sighed. “Fine. But don’t let the past dictate your future. You’re not that person anymore.”

She wanted to believe that. She really did.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know. And we’re still your people, Ahaana.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. She had spent so long pushing everything away, convincing herself that she didn’t need anyone, that she had forgotten what it felt like to have people who cared. People who wanted her back.

Then, before she could respond, another voice chimed in from the background. “Has she said yes yet?”

Karan Johar.

Ahaana let out a small laugh despite herself. “Karan, are you eavesdropping?”

“I don’t eavesdrop. I supervise.”

Varun snorted. “He’s been pacing for the past ten minutes, by the way. I think he might actually combust if you say no.”

Karan’s voice came through again, a touch more serious this time. “Darling, you’re a star. Stop dimming your own light.”

Ahaana stared at the city skyline, a myriad of thoughts swirling inside her. But for the first time in a long time, the hesitation didn’t feel quite as heavy. Maybe Varun was right. Maybe Karan was right. Maybe it was time to stop running.

She inhaled deeply, a quiet moment of clarity settling over her. Then, she spoke.

“Okay.”

A beat of silence. Then Varun whooped so loudly she had to pull the phone away from her ear. “YES! Ladies and gentlemen, she’s back!”

Karan’s relieved sigh came through the speaker. “Finally. I was this close to staging a full intervention.”

Ahaana laughed, shaking her head. “You two are impossible.”

“And you love us for it,” Varun quipped.

She did. More than she cared to admit.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time to come home.

The gang had game nights far too often then they'd like to admit, Max and Kelly were ofcourse there, Ahaana was there, Carlos and Rebecca joined, Lando somehow always inserted himself in even though everytime he cheated and got himself uninvited. Even Alex Albon and Lily joined them from time to time, but couldn't make it this time and Charles was with them for the first time ever.

The night was young, but the energy in the room felt like the start of a Grand Prix itself—fast, loud, and filled with the potential for absolute disaster. The gang had gathered in Max’s hotel suite for a game night, and true to form, it had already descended into chaos.

“I’m telling you, Lando cheats,” Ahaana declared, pointing an accusatory finger at him as he smirked from his spot on the couch. “There is no way you won that round fairly.”

Lando, lounging back with all the ease of someone who had just scammed his way into victory, dramatically placed a hand on his chest. “How dare you? I am an honest man.”

“Honest, my foot,” Kelly interjected, shaking her head. “Even Charles saw it, didn’t you?”

Charles, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for the past few minutes, blinked. “Huh?”

“See? He wasn’t even paying attention,” Lando scoffed. “Probably too busy thinking about how free he is now that he’s finally dumped his psychotic ex.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Rebecca, who had been stacking poker chips, froze mid-motion. Max, who had been snickering at Lando’s misfortune, raised a brow. Ahaana, who had been preoccupied trying to figure out how Lando had managed to win five rounds in a row, looked up.

“You finally did it?” Carlos leaned forward, grinning. “You actually told Alex to get lost?”

Charles exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “It was not exactly smooth.”

“Of course, it wasn’t,” Max said. “She’s like an overly attached leech.”

Kelly winced. “Oof. Harsh, but fair.”

“I don’t even want to know the details,” Lando said, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Actually, no. I do. Tell us. In detail.”

Charles groaned. “Why are you all like this?”

“Because this is the most entertainment we’ve had all season,” Rebecca quipped. “Now spill.”

Charles rolled his eyes, but he recounted the story of his final conversation with Alex. The room responded accordingly—with gasps, laughter, and a few muttered curses aimed at Alex’s name. When he finished, Ahaana just shook her head, unimpressed.

“She’s delusional,” she said simply. “Absolutely delusional.”

“I would’ve paid money to see her reaction when you told her it was over,” Max admitted, grinning.

Charles smirked. “It was… satisfying.”

“Okay, enough about the she-devil,” Lando said, stretching. “Let’s get back to the game before Ahaana starts accusing me of cheating again.”

“You do cheat,” she said without hesitation.

“I do not—”

“Lando, you have a history of cheating at literally every game we’ve ever played,” Max said, unimpressed.

“I prefer to think of it as strategic improvisation.”

“Strategic bullshit,” Rebecca muttered.

The next hour was filled with absolute mayhem. There was yelling. There was a near-brawl between Carlos and Lando over an Uno reverse card. At some point, Kelly got so frustrated she threw a playing card at Max’s head, which only made him laugh harder. Charles, for the most part, found himself entertained just watching it all unfold.

Ahaana, in particular, seemed to come alive in the chaos. Her laughter was light, effortless, and every time she rolled her eyes at Lando or tossed a witty remark at Max, Charles found himself watching her just a little too long.

“Alright, alright,” Ahaana said, throwing her hands up in surrender after another brutal loss. “I need a break before I throw Lando out the window.”

“Jokes on you,” Lando said. “I’d land gracefully.” To which Max snorted.

Ahaana got up and stretched, and that’s when she casually dropped, “Oh, by the way, I officially start shooting for Jigra in 17 days.”

The room went silent.

“What?” Max was the first to react, blinking.

“You’re actually going back?” Lando added.

Rebecca gasped. “Finally! You’re returning to the big screen!”

Ahaana smiled, a little softer this time. “Yeah. It’s time.”

There was a beat of silence before Max, ever the older brother figure, crossed his arms. “Are you sure?”

She looked at him, understanding the weight behind his question. “I am.”

Max studied her for a long moment, then exhaled. “Alright. If anyone gives you trouble—”

“I know, I know.” She grinned. “I’ll call my attack dog Verstappen.”

He smirked. “Damn right.”

After a long round of jenga and then stuffing their faces in food, the last slice of pizza appeared on the table, and the room instantly went silent, all eyes locked on it.

Ahaana leaned forward, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Well, look who’s in the spotlight now.”

Carlos didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve been eyeing that slice for the last ten minutes.”

“Oh, please,” Ahaana shot back. “You just noticed it now because it’s the last one.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “You’re really gonna fight over pizza? This is an all-time low, even for you.”

“Shut up, Lando,” Carlos grumbled. “It’s mine.”

Max chuckled from the side. “This is gonna be good.”

Ahaana picked up the slice like it was some sort of prized possession. “I’m just saying, I’ve had a long day. So I think I’m entitled to this.”

Carlos shot up from his seat, but Ahaana held the slice just out of reach, her smirk widening. “Nice try.”

Max shook his head, watching the two of them. “This is the dumbest thing I’ve seen all week.”

Ahaana, sensing victory, took a deliberate bite of the pizza. “Too slow, boys.”

Lando leaned back, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”

Later that night, after the raucous energy had settled slightly, Charles found himself watching Ahaana from across the room. She was laughing at something Lando had said, her head thrown back, eyes crinkled in amusement. The dim lighting softened her features, casting warm shadows over her skin, making her look almost ethereal.

He didn’t know when it started, this quiet admiration of her. Maybe it was when she first walked into his life with that effortless confidence, like she belonged in every room she entered. Maybe it was when he realized she wasn’t just sharp-tongued but also deeply, frustratingly kind. Or maybe it was moments like this, when she wasn’t doing anything extraordinary—just laughing, existing—and yet, she managed to pull his entire attention like a force of gravity.

There was something in the way she carried herself—unapologetic, bold, yet with an underlying grace that was hard to ignore. She was an enigma, a storm and a lull all at once. And he was starting to realize he liked that about her. A little too much.

“Are you staring at Ahaana?”

Charles nearly choked on his drink. He turned sharply to see Max smirking at him, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“No,” he denied, a little too quickly.

Max hummed, unconvinced. “Sure. And I’m a level headed person when angered.”

Charles groaned. “Can you not?”

Max chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Oh no, mate. I definitely can.”

Across the room, Ahaana caught his gaze, a small, soft smile playing on her lips. Charles smiled back but quickly looked away because he was scared his blush would be way too evident, but the warmth on his face lingered and Ahaana caught it anyway, chuckling a bit at the very handsome man, which Charles heard.

Yeah. He was in trouble.

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ᝰ.ᐟ third part! hope you guys like it!

next

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tags @seonghwaexile @bookishprophecy @justadesirebel @peterholland04 @bakingpiastries @ricciardosheart @mikefaistgf @sp1rl @charlesgirl16 @leila-030304 @uhcalli @blahblechblah @phobiccneel

comment to be added to taglist

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© weekendlusting

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[alittlegiraffe]

Title: All That Matters

Part 2

You didn’t mean to start pulling away.

It wasn’t something you planned, not some grand act of defiance. It just… happened.

At first, it was small things—taking longer to answer his texts, letting calls go to voicemail, handing the phone off to the kids instead of chatting with him yourself. He was always busy anyway, always surrounded by people, cameras, flashing lights, and—most notably—women.

Women who were everything you weren’t.

Confident. Flirtatious. Perfectly at ease in his world.

You weren’t jealous. Not exactly. You trusted Marshall. But watching him on TV, in interviews, at award shows, seeing the way those women leaned into him, touched his arm, laughed a little too hard at his jokes—

It made you feel small. Insignificant. Like you were just… there. His wife. The mother of his kids. Someone waiting in the background while he lived this big life.

So you stopped trying so hard to be part of it.

And at first, he didn’t notice.

---

It had been a long few weeks. Marshall had been flying back and forth between LA and Detroit for promo, barely home for more than a day at a time. The kids missed him. You missed him. But instead of letting that ache pull you toward him, you let it push you further away.

You ignored his last two FaceTime calls.

Then, earlier tonight, when he called to check in, you handed the phone to one your daughters and walked out of the room.

Apparently, that was the final straw.

Because when Marshall finally got home that night, he came in pissed.

“The hell is goin’ on with you?”

You barely looked up from the laundry you were folding. “Hey, nice to see you too.”

“I’m serious,” he snapped, stalking toward you. “You been dodgin’ my calls, barely talkin’ to me. What the fuck did I do?”

That made you laugh—sharp, bitter. “What did you do? Nothing, Marshall. You’re just you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You swallowed, setting the laundry down. You could feel the tears pressing against your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “It means I don’t even know where I fit in your life anymore.”

That made him freeze.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “I watch you on TV, at events, surrounded by all these women, living this huge life—and I just… I feel like I’m nothing but your wife. Like I’m just here to take care of the kids and hold down the house while you’re off being Eminem.”

His face softened, but his voice was still sharp. “You think that’s all you are to me?”

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I am to you anymore.”

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then, before you could react, Marshall was on you.

Not in anger, not in frustration—but in desperation. His hands cupped your face, forcing you to look at him, his forehead pressing against yours.

“You’re everything,” he breathed. “You hear me? Everything.”

You blinked rapidly, fighting the tears. “Then why do I feel like I don’t matter?”

His breath hitched, like the words physically hurt him. “You do. More than anything. More than all of that shit put together.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, finally letting the tears fall. “I just… I feel like I lost myself.”

He pulled you into his chest, holding you so tight it almost hurt. “Then let me help you find yourself again.”

And in that moment, you knew—

No matter how big his world got, no matter how many flashing lights and adoring fans surrounded him—

He would always come back to you.

[prismaticpichu]

Sephzack prompt: Degradation

Shehshshshdhdh ONE OF MY FAV AUs!!!! 💖💖💖

~

"I..."

Zack shook his head, unable to stop the tears from boiling, unable to bear the pulsing ache in his chest any longer. The gray-beaded tips of his spikes seemed to be accentuated by the training room's glow; unescapable, unexorable. A part of him now. More and more of the black was being swallowed by that rotting color, its leechlike silver blanching the youth and life out of his hair—his eyes, his skin, his spirit. He could feel all of it slipping, bleeding away. He could feel its deadly venom seeping into his soul, infecting it, blighting the brightest parts and tainting them with its rage, vitriol, and hatred. How much longer could he even control it? How many more loved ones did have to snap at, demean? How many more horrible, ruthless, bladed things did he have to say to—?

"Zack..." Sephiroth reached out, sensing his friend's turmoil, Masamune long thrown aside and relinquished.

A bead of blood dribbled off his cheek.

The Buster Sword sat at Zack's feet, reddened.

"...It's not your fault, Zack. None of this is y—"

Zack slapped his hand away, lips pulling into an anguished snarl, taking a defensive step back.

His eyes were veiled with tears.

"Don't... don't touch me!" he choked, almost rattled. "I'm... I'm dangerous, okay? I'm... I'ma..." Another fierce, hate-fueled shake of his head, the sapphires ablaze as he then added, laden with hot terror, "I almost killed you...!"

Even with the words echoing jaggedly around them, Sephiroth only rubbed his hand, refusing to raise his voice. He wouldn't dare fan the flames—not when the disease was in-control, growing stronger.

"...You didn't," was all Sephiroth said, his voice a delicate calm. "You stopped yourself."

Zack's fists clenched, his teeth gnashing, serrated tears crawing down his cheeks.

...Why didn't you fight BACK? he wanted to scream, snarl. "Why wouldn't you defend yourself? Do you WANT me to hurt you? Are you too afraid to fight, just like when you made me...—

But he stopped himself there, tightening his fists, straining against the roaring thoughts like a man bracing a hurricane, trying to divert the violent winds.

No... That wasn't true...

Teardrops plunked onto his blade, diluting the blood.

It...!

"Zack," Sephiroth ventured again, taking a step closer, sounding so helpless and so pained. "Please, take a breath. Recollect yourself. It's going to be—"

"SHUT UP...!" Zack screamed, the volcano in his throat bursting forth, spewing its draconic heat. His fists were cement chunks now; his breath was knifelike, erractic. "You think it's going to be okay? You think everything's going to be fine?! How stupid do you think I am? How NAIVE do you think you are...?"

He took a step closer, stomping.

Sephiroth didn't move.

"You think you can magically make everything better? You think you can understand? You think you are so Strong, staying so aloof? What kind of person do you think you—?"

Nor did Sephiroth let him finish, refusing to let this tainted facsimile speak any longer, refusing to fight back or counter or spit even the faintest trace of gasoline into the fire, making more of a rift…

Thump, thump, thump~

So he simply reached out, warmly yet desperately, closing the space between them…

Thump, thump, thump~

And pulled Zack into an embrace.

Thump, thump, thump…

Thump, thump….

Thump….

Zack’s entire world seemed to freeze, his eyes widening, his chest pressed against the frantic rhythm of his friend’s heartbeat, against its familiar pulses. Its song. Its warmth. Familiar notes and familiar comfort—a melody that sang to the storm in his soul, calming it down, placating it with its gentle beats.

Thump…. Thump…. Thump…

He sucked in his breath, listened.

Sephiroth rested his head against his shoulder, holding him tighter.

The world around them ceased to exist.

“…Zack,” he murmured, sealing the cracks in own voice, drawing him closer into his chest. “I’m here… I’m right here. Come back to me now…”

It was like watching a flame be snuffed out, its angry light ebbing into harmless, tiny cinders; extinguished, smothered. Harmless little ashes that trickled off Zack’s shoulders as he slumped, melting into his friend’s arms, solaced by those simple, medicinal, balmlike words…

I’m not going to abandon you…

I’m not going to fight you…

I’m never going to give up on you…

Tears swamped the leather coat, free and flooding.

“S-Seph…”

Strong arms only held him tighter, anchoring his friend with his previous promises, enveloping him in a shelter he would never let crumble, never let fall. A bond he would never let be tainted—no matter how hard this vile disease tried to tear them apart. He would never leave Zack to rot, to struggle and suffer on his own. He knew better this time. He would do better this time, no matter the circumstances. No matter how many times he had to bring him back. Zack had showed him nothing but unconditional, unwavering love in the past, and he was going to reciprocate it. Wings or gray hair or venomous arguments… It didn’t matter: it was still Zack underneath it all, and he would fight for him with his life.

“I… I didn’t mean…”

“Shh, I know… It’s not your, fault.”

“I… I love you so much, bud… “I-I’m so…”

“Shh… It’s alright…”

“I… don’t want to hurt you…”

“I know, I know… You would never…”

“…I’m… I’m scared, Seph…”

And on and on, a rally of warm whispers and emotions, two friends clinging to each other for dear life.

[genderqueerdykes]

About your "Men (including cishet men) welcome to interact" post

As someone who's most important/supportive person in their life is our dad, & we have (or just have meet) other men who has meant a lot to us or have been really supportive or even our role models, sometimes people hatred or just distrust they have and how openly rude they are about it just a lot sometimes. Obviously & Honestly there's a lot to be said here(about this topic as whole) but we are not able to(personal comfortability & actual writing ability). Thank you for being a blog that has been here allowing us to be able to explore, understand, learn our(& others) identities/experiences in world, not making us feel bad for the people who support us just because of how the judge based off of the same thing the rest of society shuns us for. (a side note because of your blog we were able to get the nerve and make the push to start T just over a year ago now. A lot of it due to the help and support we got from our dad, who despite us being an adult has financially covered everything for it and the rest of our health as we are also disabled and only recently have been able to work at all) Thank you for your time in just reading this if ya do.

thanks for taking the time to send this, i really appreciate it!

i'm tired of seeing hate for the sake of hate. hate solves very little. like being a hater sucks actually, it's not cool to be shitty to other people for no reason. it bothers me deeply that people refuse to accept that there genuinely are cishet men who are queer allies out there, and in fact, some of them are absolutely amazing queer allies. i've had friends who were cishet men and gendered me correctly after i came out to them. i've had cishet men stand up for me when someone questions my manhood.

nobody considers the fact that there are queer people that just might have a loved one, partner, or friend who is a cishet man. why would it ever be okay to openly show hate to someone who supports you? hell, how you even expect someone to respect your gender and your orientation if you hate them based off of their gender and orientation? profiling someone based off of their gender & orientation is quite literally what queerphobes do, and doing it to random cishet men who haven't hurt you will not make those queerphobes stop profiling you.

treating someone else like shit just because you've been treated like shit is passing your trauma on to someone else. you're bleeding on someone who did not cut you.

(a side note because of your blog we were able to get the nerve and make the push to start T just over a year ago now. A lot of it due to the help and support we got from our dad, who despite us being an adult has financially covered everything for it and the rest of our health as we are also disabled and only recently have been able to work at all)

first of all i'm so happy to hear that! i hope things have been going well for you with T, and i am genuinely so fucking happy to hear that your dad is so supportive. he sounds amazing i'm glad he wants to help you become the happiest version of yourself you can be. there really are supportive cishet men out there. some of them are dads, uncles, cousins, brothers, sons, friends and partners. there's no reason we should treat them like absolute shit when they support us. we need to love them just as they love us.

take care of yourself! thank you for sending this i really appreciate it! let me know if you need any help with regards to HRT! im always happy to help! good luck in your transition, stay safe!

[the-fyre-flie]

17 year old Bruce Wayne becoming a teen dad for 8 year old Dick Grayson and struggling, another mini fic, technically a part 2? PART 1

-

"Please stop crying, kid... please... I don't know what you want if you just cry..."

Bruce had assumed that taking care of an 8 year old would be fairly easy. After all, it was after the diaper and fussy toddler years, almost at double digits, and when he was 8, Bruce was already pretty independent. But Dick... Dick was constantly upset. Crying, hiding, not wanting to interact with anyone. It was impossible to get him to leave his room or eat or even just talk to someone.

Standing in the doorway of the room, Bruce felt this horrible guilt feeling pooling in his stomach as he watched the child just cry on the bed. He didn't want to step closer, fearing he might scare Dick, but he also didn't want to leave, feeling responsible for the kid. Leaving felt like he was giving up. Giving up on the boy and his grief, giving up on the hope of getting better. And if he gave up, who else would be there to keep Dick from giving up, too?

"Dick, I really want to help. You have to let someone help you..." Bruce got out, taking a tentative step into the room. It was late morning, and Dick had refused to eat for the past 3 days since... since the accident. "Can Alfred make you something to eat? Anything to make you feel better. Your favorite food?"

He kept trying to offer food, clothes, gifts, anything. He had all the money in the world, but he knew better than anyone else that money doesn't fix grief. Standing at the foot of the bed, Bruce took in the sight of Dick crying into his palms, the boys face red and puffy, rubbed raw around his eyes and nose. When Dick moved to use the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away fresh tear, Bruce reached out and grabbed Dicks wrist, brow furrowing. Instinct told him to stop Dick from doing that again, that the kid was in pain from how raw his skin was. Shifting to kneel against the mattress, Bruce gently pulled a hankerchief from his pocket and dabbed at Dicks tears. It was almost fatherly... Bruce had memories of Alfred doing the same to him when he lost his parents.

"You're hurting yourself."

His voice was quiet, and Dick had stopped sobbing enough to stare at Bruce in disbelief. The quiet hiccups and sniffles echoed in the mostly empty bedroom, the lack of decorations making it feel almost sterile. They would have to decorate it, Bruce decided, make it look like an actual kids room.

"I know how this feels. You aren't alone, Richard. Please, let me help you."

It was a plea, a hushed beg for the boy to let Bruce do what he felt he had to. Alfred had stepped up to be Bruce's father, and Bruce wanted so badly to step up and be Dicks. To pay it forward. To protect someone who needed it.

It took about an hour to get Dick to leave his room, but eventually he was sat with Bruce at the dining room table, slowly eating the eggs and bacon Alfred had made. He had stopped crying for the most part, and let Bruce brush his hair and find him a change of clothes. And yet, Bruce didn't relax. He wasn't sure if he was doing any of this correctly. He wanted to he a good parental figure for Dick, but he also didn't want to overstep. What if the kid didn't want a replacement family? What if Dick always rejected him? What if he was making things worse for him?

"Mr Wayne..."

Dicks scratchy voice pulled Bruce from his thoughts, the man looking up like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't be.

"When am I going into foster care?"

Oh. That was the problem. Dick thought his placement here was only temporary. He thought Bruce would eventually get rid of him, and he had been worrying himself to tears thinking he would just get thrown to the foster system. That's why he had been in such a state for the past few days. That's why he had been so avoidant with Bruce. He was preparing himself for the feeling of being abandoned again.

"N-never. You don't have to go into foster care. The... the manor has a place for you always." Bruce spoke, trying to hide his sadness. Did Dick really think Bruce would just get rid of him after what happened?

"Are you certain?"

He sounded so weak. So defeated. He had just lost his mother and father, and he expected the world to tear away everything else too.

"I'm certain, Richard."

"Thank you, Mr Wayne."

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ Hither I’ve Come for You

Megatron x Reader - transformers prime

“You’d have me come to you; willingly.”

“I will not force you on this.”

“And yet you are,” you said, leaning up so your face is close to his. “You know that I am caught in your storm, near drowning in a bloody sea, and if I wish to survive I must take your hand or drown in darkness,” said you, eyes wide and expression desperate, breath laboured as your skin prickled in cold, wishing to lean closer to his warmth yet it would only aid in scorching you, bringing you into a fiery inferno which promised to never let go once you submitted.

His sharp digits came to graze your cheek, slowly and delicately, brushing away your hair as he held your gaze. It burned and soothed you all the same.

“If you abhor me, then I will release you.”

“You lie.”

He smiled and cupped your cheek. The touch sent goosebumps along your flesh, yet you leaned in against it, desiring it, eyes refusing to leave seas of red. Stinging, burning, the tears formed and trickled down across your flesh. A sharp digit caught one, wiping it away.

The red turned darker, deeper, and he leaned closer to you.

“I hate you,” you said, breath catching in your throat as you stood unmoving, fingers twitching, wishing to touch; to cradle. Wished to feel him. “I hate you.”

“You lie,” said he, helm brushing as he leaned closer, nearly touching soft lips. “Say it.” Another servo touched your neck, stroking it, holding you close. “Say it,” he said again, demanding, begging.

And you could not. The servo upon your neck was gentle and warm, but it held you trapped, promising to tighten should you deny him. It would not hurt. No, he’d never harm you, not purposely. But the world in which he lived was too different, too violent and bloodied for you, and you both knew it. He knew it so well and that is why he begged, why his voice wavered when he spoke to you. And it is why you could not speak your heart’s true intent, because if you did then he’d never let you go. He wouldn’t be able to, and neither would you.

I love you.

Breath and intake mingling, you did not touch, merely a tiny space in between you, though it might as well be a planet’s worth. Eyes and optics staring, memorising, detailing, longing in desperation as they wished to never behold anything else again. You reached up and took his helm, soft skin holding battle-hardened metal. Wandering they felt him, travelling across scars and chips, going under to touch his face plate, a place so few have ever touched before.

Megatron let you, refusing to look away from you as your fingers caressed him, their warmth and softness nearly making him shudder in appreciation. A gentle touch so beloved it made his spark ache and weep. He filed it to lasting memory, knowing it would all be gone in too short a time.

If only you’d join him, he could have you remade. Have you by his side forever in a body which would fit your lovely spirit. He wished it. He desired it more than anything, yet for all his wishes, he could not force you. It infuriated him, but he could not make himself do this without your permission. If he did, then you’d never look at him the same. Those lovely eyes would scorn him, look upon him with hatred instead of love, and that thought was despairing. No, he could not do it, not unless you allowed him to.

And you did not.

Previous / Next Music: Vangelis – Dreams of Adventure Part 2

[nanamineedstherapy]

We had a taste & now we can't leave you

Gojo Satoru x GN!Reader x Nanami Kento

Summary: A night of reckless attraction leads to obsession as two dangerous men, Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento, refuse to let you go. What begins as a fleeting connection spirals into a dark, inescapable reality where freedom no longer exists. Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapping, Character Deaths, Stockholm Syndrome, Curse Men. => No graphic smut or violence, but have tissues ready in case. => No gender-related descriptions have been used for the reader.

A/N: This started as me watching that one edit of Gojo and thinking I'd write a fluffy crack story, but the parasites in me as usual made it angsty. https://pin.it/3rgFvY6aa

The bar was dimly lit, buzzing with low conversations and the occasional burst of laughter. A faint scent of whiskey clung to the air, mixing with cheap cologne and the sweat of bodies packed too close together. It was a slow night, and you had no intention of entertaining anyone. Just you, your drink, and the mindless scroll of funny TikToks.

Then the two men entered.

The door swung shut behind them, cutting the hum of voices. The blonde man was already scowling, tugging at the loosened tie around his neck, while the platinum blonde one—grinning, despite his equally irritated expression—dragged him towards the bar.

“I’m just saying,” White-haired one drawled, voice loud enough to carry over the music. “If that asshole tells me one more time that I need to ‘act professional,’ I might just kick his cane.”

Bonde exhaled, running a hand through his already slightly tousled hair, falling on his forehead. “But you’re not professional, Satoru.”

“I am!” The “Satoru” guy protested, leaning against the bar. “You just don’t appreciate my methods.”

“You told Gakuganji his clothes looked like a knockoff thrift store find.”

“Which was true!”

Blonde groaned, ordering them both drinks before sinking onto a bar stool.

You barely glanced up, too engrossed in your phone. The smooth, almost hypnotic voice of a robotic TikTok narrator filled your ears: ‘POV: You’re watching your pet’s reaction after ignoring them for five minutes.’ You stifled a snort at the meme, lazily swirling your drink.

But Satoru noticed.

“You laughing at me?” he asked, voice warm, teasing.

You looked up, meeting a pair of crystalline blue eyes. Too bright. Too sharp. Too close. But the grin that accompanied them was lopsided and easy—like he was already familiar, like he knew you.

You arched a brow. “Not everything’s about dude-bros, you know.”

The blonde huffed a quiet chuckle at that.

Satoru grinned wider, unfazed. “Ouch. That one actually hurt.”

The blonde took a sip of his drink before speaking but didn’t look at you yet. “Trust me, if you let him, he will make everything about himself.”

You smirked as you set your phone down. “And here I was, thinking you two were just going to suffer through overpriced cocktails in peace.”

The blonde finally glanced your way. “We weren’t. My colleague insisted on dragging me here instead of letting me go home.”

Satoru shrugged. “He’s boring. I couldn’t let him waste his night like that.”

“And you?” the blonde asked, tilting his head slightly. “Drinking alone?”

You raised your glass. “Celebrating.”

Satoru’s grin widened. “Oh? What’s the occasion?”

You shrugged. “Got through another week of life. That’s worth drinking to.”

He laughed, and it was the kind of sound that wormed its way under your skin, rich and full of something dangerously addictive. “I like the way you think.”

The blonde swirled the whiskey in his glass, eyes flicking over you, assessing. “Do you always spend your fridays like this?”

“Lately? Yeah.”

Satoru leaned in slightly, chin resting on his hand. “That’s a shame. You seem fun.”

“And you seem like trouble,” you quipped.

His grin turned wolfish. “Guilty as charged.”

The blonde sighed, exasperated but amused. “Don’t encourage him.”

“I am fun, though,” Satoru continued, ignoring him. “For example—” He gestured vaguely to himself. “I happen to be a very accomplished man of mystery.”

The blonde scoffed. “He’s Gojo Satoru.”

Satoru gasped. “Kento! You ruined the illusion!”

You snorted.

The blonde continued, “And I’m Nanami Kento.”

You smiled and told them your name.

The conversation flowed from there. Drinks kept coming, the low burn of whiskey on your tongue. Satoru exuded a reckless, infectious energy that made you feel like the most captivating person in the room, as if nothing else mattered but this fleeting moment. In contrast, Kento was the slow burn, a quiet force beside him—steady yet equally enthralling.

Then it all began with stolen touches—those accidental brushes that felt anything but accidental, lingering just a moment too long.

Satoru’s laughter danced against your ear, warm and carefree, while Kento’s hands, steady and sure, grazed yours when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

Together, they were perfect.

Too perfect.

By the time Satoru leaned in, breath warm against your cheek, voice thick with the edge of intoxication—“You should come with us.”—you didn’t hesitate.

And that was your first mistake.

Their hotel room was a blur. Fingers tugging at fabric, laughter swallowed into kisses, your back pressing against soft sheets, hands gripping, pulling, needing. Satoru, all heat and hunger, his mouth dragging over your skin, murmuring something against your throat that you barely processed. Kento, slower, deliberate, watching, touching, like he was memorizing the moment.

Somewhere between the tangle of sheets and the press of bodies, it stopped being just a night.

But only for them.

Morning came too fast. The light creeping through the curtains painted everything gold—the crumpled sheets, the slow rise and fall of Satoru’s breathing, the way Kento’s arm draped over the edge of the bed. You didn’t wait for them to wake.

No note. No number. No goodbye.

Just a night—nothing more.

You moved on.

Your world was cars, speed, control. The hum of an engine, the precision of a well-designed machine—things that made sense. Things that lasted. A drunken one-night stand with two men who, though good in bed, meant nothing to you.

You didn’t expect them to care.

Except they didn’t see it that way.

For them, it was everything.

The unease started small.

A bouquet on your desk—perfectly arranged, not a petal out of place. No note, but the scent was familiar. A message from an unknown number: Missing you.

You ignored it.

The song you had casually mentioned to a coworker once played as you entered the nearby grocery store. And every time you needed a ride, a cab would pull up to the curb before you could even reach for your phone; the drivers seemed to know your destination instinctively.

You told yourself it was nothing.

Coincidence.

But coincidences didn’t feel like someone breathing down your neck.

You forgot where you put your keys. Normal. Then, you started finding them in places you never left them—inside the fridge, under your pillow, in your shoes.

It moved to the weird things

Your phone screen dimmed and brightened at random, like someone else was controlling it. Once, you watched in frozen horror as the brightness slider moved on its own. A glitch. It had to be.

Then came the dreams—or at least, you thought they were dreams.

The feeling of someone sitting at the edge of your bed, just out of sight. The mattress sinking ever so slightly under phantom weight. The sound of breathing—soft, steady, too close. But when you bolted upright, gasping, there was nothing. Just the dark.

Your apartment door... you knew you locked it. You always checked. Twice. Maybe three times. But some mornings, you’d wake up and find it slightly ajar. Not wide open, not enough to set off alarm bells—just enough to make you doubt yourself.

Your coffee shop always had your order waiting. You never called ahead. You never used an app. Yet the moment you stepped in, the barista would smile, handing over your drink before you even reached the counter. “Regular time, regular drink,” they’d say. But you didn’t have a regular time.

Then, the lights.

Your bedroom lamp flickered. The kitchen light buzzed, casting shadows that didn’t match the angles of the room. Your reflection in the mirror lagged—just half a second, just enough to make your stomach turn.

Maybe it was stress. Maybe early-onset dementia.

You started medical tests. Bloodwork. Brain scans. Sleep studies. The doctors reassured you—no signs of anything serious. Maybe anxiety. Maybe exhaustion. Maybe—

Maybe you were losing your mind.

Until you saw them.

Satoru, standing outside your office building, sunglasses pushed up, head tilted back, staring at your window. Not looking at his phone, not passing by—just standing there.

Kento, seated in the café across the street, a book open in front of him. His gaze never strayed from you.

You told yourself it was a coincidence. A trick of the mind. But coincidences didn’t leave messages in the condensation of your bathroom mirror.

You can’t run.

You locked your doors. You triple checked. You changed the locks; even got a security system.

And yet.

Your spare key was missing.

The scent of their cologne—expensive, unmistakable—lingered in your apartment, despite you being alone.

Your closet door, which you never left open, was slightly ajar one morning. Your bed felt warm on one side, as if someone had just been lying there.

A whisper in the dark, right against your ear.

A flicker of movement in the mirror—something that didn’t match you.

They were everywhere.

One night, they stopped lurking.

And let themselves in.

Satoru leaned against your kitchen counter, swirling a glass of wine like he’d been there for hours. Relaxed. At home. His mouth curled in amusement, but his eyes—glowing, warping the very air—held something... something wrong.

Kento stood by the doorway, arms crossed, gaze steady. He didn’t need to speak. His presence alone filled the space, pressing against your lungs.

Your stomach twisted.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

Satoru exhaled, long and slow, like you were being difficult. “You left.” His voice was soft, almost hurt. Almost. “After everything we gave you, you thought you could just... leave?”

Kento’s head tilted slightly. "Do you have any idea how many things in our lives aren’t ours to keep?" His voice was calm, measured. But there was something underneath it. Something fractured.

Satoru set his glass down. The sound it made was quiet. Intentional.

"You never even asked what we did," he mused, stepping closer. "You never thought about it, did you? What it means to be us? What it feels like to give and give and give until there's nothing left?"

Kento sighed. "We don’t get to have things, darling. We don’t get to keep what’s beautiful. Not when we spend every waking moment cleaning up messes that aren’t ours."

Your pulse pounded.

"I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about," you snapped, reaching for the knife on the counter.

The air shifted.

Your fingers brushed metal—then suddenly, the knife was in Satoru’s hand. His grin widened as he turned it over, inspecting it like an afterthought.

"That was rude," he pouted.

You stumbled back. But the space around you bent. The hallway stretched, the walls melted, the door—gone.

Kento tsked. "You really think you can fight us? When we’ve spent our entire lives fighting wars you don’t even know exist?"

Satoru chuckled, twirling the knife between his fingers. "See, that’s the thing. It’s always been about everyone else. Protecting the weak, stopping the threats, and making sure the world stays just safe enough for people like you to go about your day without ever realizing how close you are to dying."

His eyes gleamed. "And for what?"

Kento’s voice was steady. "For nothing. No thanks. No peace. No rest. Just more battles, more corpses, more being chewed up and spit out by a world that will never care about us."

Your breath hitched.

"So," Satoru continued, stepping closer, "we decided—just this once—we’re keeping something for ourselves."

You ran.

The space around you twisted. The walls breathed, the floors split, the lights flickered—off, on, off, on—until there was only darkness.

Then—

You were somewhere else.

A basement.

The air thick with damp and decay. The walls pulsed, the ceiling felt too low, pressing in like the weight of a grave.

No doors.

No way out.

You spun, your breath sharp, and—

Kento was beside you. He caught your chin, tilting your face toward his. His fingers felt wrong, cold but alive, pressing against your skin like they were deciding whether to crush or caress.

"You need to learn obedience," he murmured.

Something sharp pressed to your throat.

Not a blade.

His fingers.

Too hard, too precise. Inhuman.

Satoru's voice came from everywhere and nowhere. "You should have never left."

The room moved.

Hands clawed from the walls—decayed, desperate, their nails scraping against stone. The shadows slithered along the floor, writhing like living things, whispering.

The air turned thick. The pressure pressed against your ribs, squeezing, drowning—

"Shh," Satoru soothed, suddenly holding you from behind. "Breathe, sweetheart."

You couldn’t.

The whispers swelled, filling your skull, echoing.

Stay. Stay. Stay.

Kento brushed his fingers over your pulse. "You’ll understand soon enough," he murmured.

Satoru whispered against your ear. "You think we’re the monsters?" His laugh was soft, almost affectionate. "You have no idea what we have to do every day to protect you."

The room shrunk.

The walls closed in.

You screamed.

And they just watched.

And then—

The locks on your doors changed. Your world shrank to the space they allowed you to exist in. Freedom became a distant memory.

Because once Gojo Satoru and Nanami Kento decided you were theirs—

There was no escape.

---

Months after, the world had shrunk to the space they allowed you to exist in.

There were no locked doors. No chains. No visible walls. But you learned quickly that freedom wasn’t about doors or chains—it was about choices. And you had none.

Some days were easier. Some days, Satoru curled up beside you, his fingers playing absently with your hair, murmuring things that almost sounded like love. Some days, Kento held you in his arms and read to you, his presence lulling you into the illusion of normalcy.

Some days, you forgot you were a prisoner.

Other days, you didn’t.

Like today.

It started with the phone.

Satoru had left it on the table, an oversight, because you weren’t allowed to have one. It vibrated once, the screen lighting up. You barely had time to register the name before it disappeared—Ieiri Shoko.

Another buzz. Another message.

Shibuya. Now.

Your stomach twisted.

You barely had time to think before Satoru appeared in the doorway. His smile was there, easy, playful—but his eyes weren’t. They were sharp, gleaming with something you couldn’t place.

"You saw that, huh?"

Your throat tightened.

Kento entered behind him, already pulling on his suit jacket, his movements too practiced, too quick.

Something was wrong.

"I—" You started, but Satoru was in front of you in an instant, tilting his head.

His hand brushed your cheek, fingers lingering just long enough to remind you who you belonged to.

"You’re going to be good while we’re gone, aren’t you?"

Your heart pounded.

"Where are you going?" you asked.

Kento sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Shibuya."

Satoru’s smiles never reached his eyes when he spoke of the higher-ups.

And because you weren’t stupid, you realised—

Something bad was happening in Shibuya.

"You can’t just leave me here."

Satoru hummed, quickly kissing you. "Of course we can," he said simply.

"You’ll be fine," Kento added, but his voice lacked the usual certainty.

Your chest tightened. The air in the room felt thin.

"You’re lying," you whispered.

Neither of them denied it.

Then, Satoru sighed, long and heavy, and for the first time in months, you saw it—a crack in the façade.

Kento kissed you and turned toward the door. "We’ll be back," he said, but there was something final in his voice.

And then Satoru looked at you, really looked at you. His fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up.

His smile was still there.

But you saw it in his eyes.

A silent goodbye.

And before you could say anything, they were gone.

---

Silence.

That was the first thing you noticed. The silence stretched and stretched until it became a living thing, pressing against the walls, seeping into your skin, curling around your ribs like something hungry.

They were gone.

For the first few days, you assumed they’d be back. Of course, they’d be back. They always came back.

But the food ran low.

The fridge, once always stocked with your favorites, emptied. The last slice of bread curled at the edges. The fruit turned to mush. You rationed water like a soldier, sipping only when your throat burned.

The first few days, you screamed.

You clawed at the windows, pounded on the doors—but there was nothing. The ward around the apartment didn’t just keep people out. It kept you in.

The realization hit on day five.

You weren’t locked in. You were buried alive.

By day ten, the hunger gnawed. The mirror reflected someone else—someone hollow-cheeked, dry-lipped, eyes sunken.

By day fourteen, your body stopped feeling like yours.

The loneliness sank in next. The kind that felt like drowning. The kind that made you remember.

Satoru’s laugh.

Kento’s presence.

You hated them.

You loved them.

They’d trapped you. But at least you weren’t alone.

At least they loved you in their own, twisted way.

Maybe you should have been grateful. Maybe you should have just submitted.

Because now, it was quiet.

And the quiet was worse than them.

By day nineteen, you could barely stand. Dehydration blurred the edges of the world, made everything tilt. Your lips cracked, your limbs shook.

You laid on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

This was it. This was how you died.

Not in a struggle.

Not in a fight.

Not screaming.

Just fading.

Your eyelids drooped. The blackness tugged.

And then—

The door opened.

At first, you thought it was a hallucination. But then, footsteps came. Fast and uneven.

You barely had the strength to lift your head.

And there he was.

Satoru.

But not the Satoru you knew.

He looked different. His uniform torn, the fabric dark with blood—his? Someone else’s? His face was paler than usual, hollow, the bright blue of his eyes somehow dulled. He held you and gave you water. His breath came ragged and shallow.

He stared at you.

You stared back.

Neither of you spoke.

Then—“…Kento’s dead.”

Your breath hitched.

The room tilted.

The words didn’t make sense. They couldn’t.

Nanami couldn’t be dead.

Because if he was—

If he was gone—

Then who was left?

You grasped at his arms, fingers digging into fabric and skin, just to make sure he was real.

"You're lying," you rasped.

He didn't argue.

He just stayed on the floor, holding you close against him, his fingers burying in your hair, his shaky breath warm against your temple.

Your body shook. You clung to him, pressing into the heat of his chest, feeling his heartbeat—proof that he was still here.

Because if he died too—

If he left you too—

You’d have nothing.

Satoru wanted you out.

---

The moment he had the strength, the moment the wards lifted, he took you by the wrist and dragged you outside. Fresh air hit your skin, but it didn’t feel freeing. It felt wrong. Too open. Too empty.

You dug your heels in. "No."

"You need sunlight, baby," he murmured, squeezing your wrist. His voice was lighter than it should be, like he was distracting you, like he knew what would happen if he stopped talking.

"I need you."

His fingers tensed.

"I came back, didn't I?" he said. "I always come back."

You didn’t let go. He didn't either.

You should have run.

You should have screamed.

You should have hated him.

But you had nothing left to run to.

No one left to save you.

Only him.

And now, he was trying to leave you behind.

"Shinjuku’s different." His voice was calm. Steady. Lying.

"I don’t care," you whispered. "Please—"

Satoru sighed and leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. His breath was warm. His fingers traced soothing, familiar circles against your back.

"You’re safe now," he murmured. "You can go anywhere, do anything. Live a real life."

You shook your head, fingers clawing into his shirt.

"I don’t want a real life," you choked out.

Satoru’s breath hitched.

His mask cracked. Just a little. Just enough.

A single tear rolled down his face.

His hands slid up to your cheeks, his thumbs pressing against your skin, tilting your face up. His lips brushed against your temple, your nose, lingering at the corner of your mouth.

"You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart," he murmured, voice cracking.

Then he stepped back and disappeared.

And for the first time since they took you, you were alone.

—

You found out the same way the rest of the world did.

On a screen.

In a storefront window.

The broadcast was jerky—news anchors trying to piece together the impossible. The buildings of Shinjuku were a massive rubble. Smoke curled into the sky. And there, in the middle of it all—

Him.

The Six Eyes. The strongest sorcerer. The man who could bend space itself.

Sliced.

Half his body on the ground.

Looking at the snow.

You stared at the screen, breath frozen in your throat.

The world kept moving. People walked past you, laughing, talking, living. Unaware. Unaffected.

Like it was nothing. Like he was nothing.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t the same after Kento died.

The glass reflected your own face back at you—pale, gaunt, hollow-eyed.

You had spent so long waiting for him to come back.

Now, he never would.

---

A year passed.

You still weren’t living.

Existing, maybe. If you could call it that.

The therapist said it was trauma. Said you needed to find purpose again. A job, a hobby, something. Anything to pull you forward.

You nodded. Said you’d try.

You never did.

Your days blurred together—waking up late, skipping meals, staring blankly at walls until your body forced you to move. Even the weight of blankets felt suffocating.

You hadn’t worked in months. Hadn’t touched an engine. Hadn’t felt anything but the emptiness stretching inside your ribs, gnawing at your lungs.

The world had moved on.

But you were still here. Alone.

---

Then it started as a whisper.

The first time, you thought it was the wind. Just a flicker of sound curling around your ears. But then—

‘Sweetheart.’

The word slithered into your skull, thick and saccharine, like a voice pressing against your skin.

You snapped your head around.

Nothing.

Just the empty street, dim under flickering streetlights. The chill of autumn creeping into your coat.

Your pulse hammered.

You hadn’t heard that name in a year.

The wind rustled again. And then—

A hand touched your back.

You flinched, spinning, but no one was there.

Your breath hitched, a strangled sound sticking in your throat.

Your therapist said you might experience hallucinations. That grief could warp the brain and twist reality into things it wanted to see.

This wasn’t that.

This was real.

You ran.

The apartment was empty and silent. Still, your hands shook as you locked the door behind you, triple-checking the deadbolt.

You turned—

And nearly screamed.

Because they were there.

Satoru and Kento.

Or—what was left of them.

Satoru leaned against your kitchen counter, just like before. His grin was sharp, jagged. His eyes—wrong. The irises burned blue, too bright, too empty.

Kento stood near the doorway, arms crossed, the rotting holes in his skull gaping. His skin was burnt, stretched too tight over his bones, veins twisting beneath the surface.

“You—” Your voice broke. “You’re dead.”

Satoru tilted his head. “Yeah. And?”

His body flickered, his form shifting like static, like he wasn’t really there.

Except he was.

He moved before you could blink, appearing inches away, fingers ghosting over your cheek.

But his legs lagged behind.

“We missed you,” he whispered.

Kento exhaled slowly, stepping forward, the scent of grave soil and old blood thick in the air. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone, darling.”

Your body locked.

This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

"We loved you," Satoru murmured. His fingers trailed down your throat. Cold. Too cold. "And now you’re all alone."

Kento was behind you before you could turn. His hand pressed against your waist. Solid. Unrelenting.

"Say it," he said, voice low.

"Say what?" Your voice shook.

Satoru grinned wider. "That you missed us."

Your breath hitched.

They were dead. They were dead.

And yet—

And yet—

Your hands curled into Satoru’s t-shirt. His body felt wrong. His chest didn’t rise, didn’t fall. No heartbeat. No warmth.

Still, your fingers tightened.

Because for the first time in a year, the emptiness in your ribs wasn’t so hollow.

"I missed you," you whispered.

Satoru’s grin softened. Just a little.

Kento sighed, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, his grip firm like he was anchoring himself. "We knew you’d understand."

Your breath shuddered. Your eyes burned.

This was wrong. This was so, so wrong.

But at least now—

You weren’t alone.

A/N: This was a one-shot, and I’m so grateful you followed it to the end. Which moment stood out most for you – the slow burn, the twists, or the tragic conclusion? Or, if you were in the protagonist’s shoes, what would you have done differently? I’d love to hear your thoughts, no right or wrong answers – just curious minds. Drop a comment below and let me know how this all landed for you.

All Works Masterlist

[o-lanterns]

your parent/s 🤝 my dad

loving the big bang theory and mcu garbage

I gave up trying to explain to my mom why I don't like the big bang theory and how Sheldon is an autistic caricature, but she was like 'but Sheldon's my favorite! He's so funny! Oh but I'm not laughing *at* him, it's different.' okay mother well the show plays a laugh track every time he talks. There's a scene where, in a children's book store, he sees toys and goes "Oh, I love trains!" To which the employee says "Of course you do."

Sure totally nothing wrong with finding that funny. Not an insult to people like me at all. See it's okay because it's something she likes, which can never have things wrong with it.

[mothintheflames]

[bestworstcase]

your point about team rwby being the maidens’ liberators made me think - do you think blake is going to have a special connection to the summer maiden? I noticed that she’s the only one who hasn’t been close to a maiden yet

i think gillian asturias is the summer maiden (and this post is hysterical in hindsight. at the time i wrote it, the full-length v9 epilogue hadn’t been released yet so we’d only seen qrow’s section and about half of winter’s – hence my pausing to lay out the argument for salem going to vale next and making a pretense of hedging my bets on the crown being narratively central in v10. lol)

now! with regard to blake and the summer maiden, the common thinking here seems to mostly run along the lines of “…and that’s why summer maiden ilia,” or the more general speculation that the summer maiden will be a faunus character.

to this i say:

it’s a fallacy to conflate “blake will probably have a strong narrative connection to the summer maiden” with “the summer maiden necessarily is or will be blake’s old friend,” and the argument for ilia being due for maidenhood is quite thin otherwise, and

blake can and does have important narrative connections to characters who aren’t faunus, and it’s a weird to presume that in order for the summer maiden to have a meaningful tie to blake, she must be a faunus herself.

to expand on that first point, let’s consider the personal relationships between each of the maidens so far and ruby / weiss / yang:

pyrrha -> ruby’s friend

cinder -> ruby’s personal enemy

raven -> yang’s estranged mother

penny -> ruby’s friend

winter -> weiss’s beloved sister

the takeaway here – other than that if you’re ruby’s friend and someone offers you to become a maiden you should refuse – is half the relations between maidens and members of team rwby are antagonistic. (raven seems likely to at least try making amends with yang in v10, but as it stands in the narrative right now things between them are very fraught.)

it is just as likely that blake’s narrative connection to the summer maiden might develop through a personal conflict between them, rather than friendship. yes?

and, if i’m right about gill being the summer maiden, well—stop me if you’ve heard this one: a girl with a driving, passionate ambition to uplift her people from the ashes of centuries of conquest and subjugation is radicalized by a boy she loves who pulls them both deeper and deeper into violent, spiteful extremism that ultimately harms the very people they claim to fight for, until he finally crosses a line she can’t accept and she says no i will not.

that’s blake and adam but it’s also gillian and her brother. the difference between them is that blake’s red line was adam glibly revealing that the train heist was actually intended to be a massacre whereas gillian’s was jax stating his intention to commit suicide rather than retreat and live to fight another day; she helped yatsu subdue him specifically to save jax’s life, not because she had a crisis of conscience about their movement.

(there is a certain—really irritating—contingent of CFVY novel readers who project their own dislike of jax onto gill and insist that she turned against him because he demanded she ‘sacrifice her life’ to save him, which 1. he didn’t, he asked her to give him all her aura and then bodily shielded her because he’s physically bigger than she is so this was at worst a “if we’re going down together, i’ll make them go through me first,” 2. if gill only wanted to save her own neck all she had to do was rip her aura out of him and bounce, and 3. she explicitly says that the reason she did what she did is because he’s her brother, she loves him, and she couldn’t let him die.)

the point being, gill is still a radical; her soft betrayal of jax revealed her priorities in that she loves her brother more than The Cause, but in no way did it represent a break from her belief in the cause. if the epilogue is any indication, she’s just as committed to overthrowing shade academy as before. (and i think there’s a real chance that her actions will have improved her relationship with jax to some degree, because he believed she didn’t care about him at all! he thought she only stuck with him because his semblance compelled her to do so! and then gillian exploded his mind by revealing that his semblance straight up doesn’t work on her and she just loves him. which, if the twins are on the same page now, cuts down on the internal tension and likely makes them more dangerous adversaries to the coalition.)

but her history, the way she became like this, is eerily similar to blake’s radicalization in the white fang, and i think blake would certainly be able to piece that together. she’s also by far the member of team rwby i would say is most likely to recognize and relate to the genuine pain at the heart of the crown’s movement—vacuo has suffered.

vacuo wasn’t even a state until the end of the great war. it was a mistrali territory. its people were enslaved and worked to death in a systematic and horrifyingly effective project to extract every last speck of valuable resources from the region, and then even statehood was a slap in the face because they were left to fend for themselves in a barren wasteland whose ecosystem had been completely and utterly destroyed.

the crown is a mirror held up to the white fang; blake is insightful and empathetic enough to realize these similarities and see herself and her past mistakes reflected in gillian, but this time she’s an outsider to the movement—she can’t effect change from within or reclaim the true, important work from the vengeful extremists. so she’s limited in what she can do, practically, even as it’s going to be painfully clear to her that the crown is falling into the same trap adam did.

and at the same time, the new white fang will in all likelihood either be in vacuo or show up to join the coalition in v10, so blake’s part in her own movement, her place in her community, can be directly juxtaposed with her opposition to/empathy for the crown.

v9 sets up for this with blake’s advocacy for the afterans—v7-8 do as well to a lesser extent, because blake is still dealing with the personal fallout of v4-6 and thus is quieter about mantle than say, nora is, but like. blake draws a comparison between her experiences in the white fang and with adam and the moral compromises ironwood starts making after the election. it just seems… pretty clear to me that the narrative has been setting up blake to play a pivotal role in relation to the crown since at least v4 if not earlier, depending on how granular the vacuo outline was during v1-3.

so this is a narrative connection i very much expect blake to have with gillian regardless, but… if gill is the maiden…

well, she’s certainly not trapped inside ozpin’s vault/key maiden paradigm! so in that case what does it look like for a member of team rwby to fulfill this narrative role of liberation? probably something like de-radicalizing her and her brother by convincing them there is a better way forward than their divisive, violent, paranoid ideology. and blake is unquestionably the member of team rwby best equipped to get the ball rolling there.

further, blake’s semblance is a really strong counter to gill’s – that’s true of ruby and weiss as well, because gillian has to touch a person in order to steal aura and so agile, fast opponents are going to be tougher for her in general. but blake has two more things going for her beyond the basic mobility advantage, vis-a-vis making it personal:

the illusionary aspect of blake’s semblance will allow her to create decoys, which is a very powerful tactical advantage against an opponent who really wants to grab her, and

blake’s girlfriend is a hand-to-hand fighter, and an incredibly brave one with an intense protective instinct at that.

clears throat. we all remember yang getting possessed in rwby x jl part 2, yes? and blake clocking it instantly? well.

if blake and gillian are meant to be not just foils but personal adversaries in the vein of ruby and cinder—yang’s gonna get got. agile though she is, as a hand-to-hand combatant yang is unavoidably much more vulnerable to the twins’ contact-based semblances than the rest of her team, her personality will make it very hard for her to play it safe and stay back if it comes to an open fight, and there is nothing the narrative could do to lock in that personal enmity that would be punchier than yang being compromised.

even if gill as a personal adversary to blake isn’t in the cards i expect yang to get got anyway because, let’s be honest: do we really expect crwby to set themselves up with a golden opportunity to do a climactic love-overcomes-mind-control scene with the bees in v10 and then not take it? with how nuts the entire creative team goes for these two? after the climactic battle in ice queendom hingeing on yang being able to free blake from a nightmare with the mere lesser power of unrealized lesbianism? do we reeeally believe they would pass that up? lol.

[drizzerey]

(I will be redrawing this so she has her dress and is properly on her feet. But I have decided this is why he is doing this)

“You need to stop using that on me.” Lann bemoaned, which made Driz laugh.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She said, clear smile on her voice which told Lann, she knew exactly what he was talking about and denied it fully.

“Ever since I pointed it out, you’ve used it on me and it’s not at all fair, I don’t use it on you.” Lann complained, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

Turning, Driz laughed. “Oh please, like that would work on me.” she claimed, so sure she was right.

Normally Driz was right, but Lann was fairly confident, and his lips slowly turned up into a smirk. “Oh really?” He challenged.

Driz smirked at him right back, clearly thinking she knew what she was talking about. “Absolutely.” She crossed her own arms, daring him with her green eyes to try and prove her wrong.

“Okay, you asked for it.” Lann shook his head, before he swiftly crouched in front of her, and wrapped his arms around her legs, bringing her flush against him. He looked up at her, trying to make his eyes as big as possible, and while she couldn’t see his mouth as her dress kinda hid it from view, there was no mistaking the sad frown he projected.

Instantly her confident demeanor dropped and Driz could not look away, her cheeks flushing and he knew he won, but he waited patiently for her to admit defeat.

Finally Driz managed to break eye contact and looked away with a pout. “Alright I admit you can.” She ground past her teeth.

“What was that?” Lann asked, trying his best not to let the expression fall yet, but it was hard with how much he wanted to grin up at her.

“You got me with the eye thing!” She huffed and refused to meet his eyes again. “Now stop it!”

Chuckling, Lann nuzzled her leg, dropping the big eyed look. “Are you upset I was right for once?”

“You are right more than once in a while.” Driz snapped. “Just thought I wouldn’t fall for it.”

“Ah, so you’re mad that you’re not as strong as you thought, against the look.” Lann laughed. “If it makes you feel better, there are a lot of looks at my disposal you aren’t strong enough to resist.” Driz crossed her arms and refused to meet his gaze still. “You won’t look at me because you know it’s true.”

“Oh quit rubbing it in!” Driz tried to get out of his hold, but he wouldn’t let go. “Lann,” She warned.

“Driz,” He purred. Now he was grinning full force up at her.

There was no doubt in his mind that if she truly wanted him to let her go or was not happy with him, he’d probably feel like he was dying in a split second. But Driz, despite her hurt pride, wasn’t going to hurt him. Though she was hanging onto her frustration a lot longer than he thought was normal. “You’re not actually mad are you?”

Sighing, Driz finally met his eyes. “No, I’m not mad. I just don’t like admitting defeat.” Driz said.

“We’re just having fun, I’m not going to hold it against you.” Lann promised.

“I know… I know.” She closed her eyes, before lowering herself so she was more in his lap. Lann settled them more on the ground, hugging her close. “At least you admit you’re cute.”

“Now wait a minute.” Lann protested, he hadn’t expected that.

“It’s the adorable animal look, you called it that long before I did, and you were so determined to prove you could do it. Therefore you’re admitting you are cute!” Driz was smiling up at him, clearly pushing aside whatever dark mood had taken hold of her.

Lann realized he had played himself and he frowned, closing his eyes with a curse. “Just cause I know how to… oh shush you, I am not adorable. You just have a weird perception of what’s cute.” He grumbled.

“You can try to deny all you want,” Driz poked his cheek and giggled when he growled a little. “I got you to admit you’re cute!” 

“Oh yeah, real cute. The ladies can’t get enough of me.” He huffed. It was not like with Driz who had to beat off people with a stick. Lann only ever attracted a few women, and they were all mongrels. Well not counting Driz.

“After the crusade I’ll take you around the world and you’ll see, Mendev is just terrible. I’ll have to start being all possessive.” Driz claimed.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Lann muttered.

Giggling, Driz leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve made a lot of things you thought couldn’t happen, happen. When are you going to start believing me?”

“You said you could resist me, and I just proved you wrong, showing that you can in fact be wrong sometimes.” Lann countered.

“I never once claimed I was always right!” Driz laughed, leaning more into him. No she didn’t think she was always right. Letting out whatever tension he was holding, he rested his cheek against her, snuggling closer and just feeling content with her in his arms.

doing a more sketchy look cause I'm kinda hating on my linework and cell shading right now so doing something a bit more fun for me.

No idea what Lann is asking for here, but Driz is just as bad as he is saying no the other. Also Driz is in her dressed down outfit cause I didn't wanna make her wear a dress and cover up a bunch of the details here.

Also I got some better reference images for Lann's in game model so hopefully this will help keep his look more consistent.

[southern--downpour]

having upsetting thoughts about the “live” ending

[dreamsy990]

made two of the characters i designed for ffxiv girlfriends or something