#and they just. never told the kids anything
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suiana · 1 day ago
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yandere! officer who holds a rather high rank in the military. he's proud of it too! i mean, it's the 1800s. how many men do you know that hold the rank of an an officer? and a high ranked one too at that! not many, that's for sure.
yandere! officer who's ALSO your childhood friend. how convenient is that, huh? you would hate it if he was also your fiancé, huh? 😂😂😂 i mean, what an absolute COINCIDENCE that would be... oh yeah, did i mention he was the one who proposed marriage? not your father, not his father. him.
"father, must i really get married to him? he's just my friend!" yet, your words fall on deaf ears as your father merely lets out a sigh and shakes his head. damn it, there's no getting through to him. it's like he's already made up his mind. "I've already told you, he's a good man to marry. you should be happy that such a noble man wants you." yeah, noble status. that's all there is, huh? it's not like you can say anything though. you're just the child of a small no name noble, who are you to reject someone who's highly respected in the military? but hey, at the very least it's your childhood friend that you're close with. you're sure that he just wants your friendship out of this. it's not like he's madly in love with you or anything...
yandere! officer who's definitely in love with you. you don't even have to be a genius to know that, just looking at him will tell anyone and everyone that he's madly enamoured. and as always, everyone but you knows it.
"you love me?" your breath hitches, eyes widening as you feel a warm flush creep up your cheeks. no way... he... likes you? your childhood best friend who's been showing obvious signs of a crush ever since the two of you were kids? "yes... i would think that was obvious by now." his words are flat, face deadpanning at you. despite the exasperation in his tone, his eyes are soft and the corner of his lips are upturned. "you are the only one in my heart, mein leibling."
yandere! officer that has a different side he shows to others and one reserved specifically for you. he only ever bears his heart and soul to you, his future spouse. he could care less for others, you come first and foremost. sure he might have pledged allegiance to the nation but you're his one and only. he'd betray the country if it's for you, throw away everything he's worked for just to make you happy.
yandere! officer who has discovered your... apreciation for his uniform. he finds it interesting to say the least. oh, so you think he looks attractive? he doesn't get what's so good looking about his uniform but he'll gladly wear it more often if you like it so much.
"schatz, i need to change out of my uniform-" "just give me a minute..." your fiancé could only look down in silence as you stared intensely at his attire. you're doing it again. he doesn't even know what you're doing, just staring at his uniform with your pretty eyes and serious expression. he thinks you're appreciating him but he's not quite sure. you never say anything after all. all you do is simply stare quietly. you don't even as much as touch him! "you can... touch, y'know? you don't need to just stare." he sure hopes you do. what he'd give to feel your hands on him... and he's pretty sure you want to touch him too. or maybe you want him to touch you? "can i?" "of course you can. we are to be married anyway." "nah... i think I'll just... look..." man. looks like he's going to be just standing here for a while, huh? oh well, as long as you're happy. it's not like he has anything better to do anyway.
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nymphomatique · 1 day ago
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gold star student
professor!logan howlett x fem!reader
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⋆·˚ ༘ * one bad grade is one too many, so you ask one professor logan howlett, phd. for some extra credit after class. inspired by this art.
cw: reader lowkey has undiagnosed adhd, u want that cookie so effing bad, oral (m & f), praise, some degradation, swearing (it’s logan), shaky power dynamics so it can be considered dub-con, non specific age gap, college aged reader, logan puts stickers on your face while you blow him, face slapping, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up!!), finger sucking, spitting on the pussy, grey streak logan cause if he ain’t greying im not staying!!!, this is just me being horny idk what else to say i’m sorry yall
wc: 8k
❤︎ a/n: this was…. a labour of love to say the least. i hate the ending but fuck it we ball. enjoy <3
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Ever since you were a child, anything and everything that had to do with academia had been the bane of your existence. Sitting at a desk for eight odd hours in a day wasn’t only grossly unappealing to you, but a mental challenge as well. You had found it hard to grasp onto concepts and new materials as well as the other kids, unable to focus on whatever spiel of the day your teacher went on about and still found yourself struggling in higher education. From kindergarten, to elementary, to middle school, to high school, up until now in your college years, you find that not only has your attention deficit gotten worse, but so has your motivation in academia in general. 
A floater student is what you would consider yourself, showing up to class once in a blue moon, rather busying yourself with doom scrolling in your dormitory or shopping off campus at the mall, only showing up during exam time and barely passing. your prognosis would be one of the many hyperactive disorders, but you never bothered to diagnose yourself officially. In high school, your parents didn’t make a huge deal of your grades, thanking a graceful god out there that you even got your diploma to begin with. At this age however, with tens of thousands of dollars being poured into your tuition, your mother and father have seemed to coil up even tighter in terms of frustration with your nonchalant attitude towards school. 
A report card from your fall semester riddled with C’s and D’s, emboldened and italicized as if to taunt you silently, was the final straw, the cussing you received was enough for a lifetime. At your parents' discretion, before the start of the semester you consulted with your academic advisor in suggestion of a course schedule that wasn’t a twelve hour day, and professors who would accommodate you with in the case of your late assignments and missing homework. 
All classes but one would be easy- you had been told. Your world history class and its professor had been the only one where you had been saddled with a hardball teacher, rate my professor describing one Logan Howlett, teacher of Modern World History in the Context of Classic Literature, as a man with a foul mouth and harsh grading asshole— with an excellent curriculum but horrible grade weighting, as described by your fellow student body, the mandatory attendance and participation accounting for twenty percent of your grade alone pulling a groan from you as your laptop screen stares back at you, the blue light emitting from it seemingly silently taunting you with the course course outline. Get used to looking at my screen. Three hours in an auditorium, every Wednesday and Friday for twelve weeks at nine in the morning with this douchebag.
You mentally prepare yourself for the exhaustion of the upcoming semester, shutting your laptop closed with a huff of annoyance before laying in bed, mentally preparing yourself for this seemingly infamous professor Howlett.
After a rather inadequate night of sleep, a zero sugar monster energy (gotta give in for the sake of your health where you can) and a double shot latte, you feel something that briefly resembles yet still distant from awake, you find yourself struggling to get comfortable in the stiff chairs in your lecture room. You’re glad you tucked yourself away in a seat in the corner, four rows back from the front, embarrassed that your peers are silently mocking your struggle. 
It’s some odd minutes to nine on the dot, and you’re rather proud of yourself for being able to make it minutes early rather than stumbling in twenty minutes late like you’re prone to doing. Face resting on your hand, cheek squishing your right eye closed, your left eye flits around the room to the other people present, and you wonder if anyone else is stuck in your current situation: burnt out student who didn’t have a choice but to take this class at the least convenient time possible, simply for your graduation credits. Unfortunate kismet, you think, if anybody else in this room also had the privilege to have been born with the unlucky gene you possess. 
Your eyes are heavy, the seconds tickering away at the speed of minutes, and you can’t help it when the last open eye you have flutters close. You hum to yourself, relishing at the feeling of finally being able to rest some more. the quiet shuffling of your classmates feet and the soft scrapings of their chairs, clock ticking so quietly that it barely registers in your mind. The ambient noise is like a blanket to you. It’s not more than five minutes, just a micro nap— you tell yourself, counting the seconds of each minute down silently. 45, 44, 43, 42, what minute is this?, 30, 29, 28, so tired, 22, 21, time to sleep…
Your eyes shoot open when you hear the auditorium door slam shut, blinking away softly the sleep in your eyes. your heart sinks for a minute and panic sets in— did you sleep through the whole class? On the first fucking day? You look around, eyes wide, and immediately sigh in relief when you’re greeted with a full hall. Conversely, you see everyone’s attention to the front of the class with materials out, so you trail your eyes to the front of the room and that’s when you see him, finally. Not his face yet, the wide expanse of his back and tail of his coiffed head facing you all instead. Your eyes trail down his body to his feet, clad in a pair of black combat boots, you can’t help but quirk up and eyebrow, bootcut jeans that seem to be worn in well, seemingly like they’re tailored to his long, very legs, then you see his jacket, which now you catch in time to see him taking it off to reveal a black t-shirt underneath and your breath hitches a bit. You can only see his triceps flexing as he maneuvers his jacket off, but you can just tell he’s covered in rippling muscle, his arms straining against the fabric of his shirt. You can’t help but wonder what he looks like, wondering if his face is as captivating as the rest of him. Your eyes flit over to the girl sitting two seats down from you, and you can’t help but smile a little at her expression, teeth chewing her bottom lip and eyes widened slightly and blinking in slow flutters, seemingly thinking the same things about this Professor Logan Howlett as you are; He’s obscenely sexy even though I haven’t even seen his face.
When you focus your attention back to the front, your face warms immediately upon finally seeing his– Professor Howlett’s face and fuck, you feel stupid for even thinking that he wouldn’t be even a fraction of attractive. His hair, oh god his hair, styled as if he just rolled out of bed and ran his hands through it once, maybe twice even, streaked with gray at his temples, peppering down into his sideburns and disappearing in his scruffy beard. His eyes are an enrapturing shade of hazel, almost brown, almost green, you squint a little to see the mix of hues better, cursing yourself for sitting so far away. His nose, button-like yet poses so masculine at the same time. His lips look so soft and kissable, framed perfectly by his facial hair as if it’s screaming at you to kiss there, to taste each other, let your tongues touch and whisper your deepest secrets to one another-
Gravelly and deep, his voice rouses you from your rather indulgent fantasy. “Good morning. Lively bunch this semester,” he quips and a quiet wave of laughter reverberates and echoes around you. Your chest tightens at the sound of his voice and you want to smack yourself silly for it. “Gonna spare you all the pointless introductions n’ ice breaking crap, yeah? We’ll go over the syllabus and get this show on the road.”
He’s curt, forward, doesn’t bite his tongue, you deduce. Not the jackass his reviews seem to pin him as, though it’s only the first class. They didn’t seem to mention how ruggedly handsome he was as well, you think and pull your lips taut as Professor Howlett, continues to read off the syllabus. Two essays, three quizzes, and a final reading comprehension exam. Attendance is mandatory Your eyes quickly flit to the back of your skull as he reads off that point. No makeups. No late work. No excuses. 
You feel your heart hammer in your chest a little, a sense of anxiety bubbling up in you at how much this class demands. It’s nerve wracking, super fucking discouraging to say the least given your track record, but you know you have no other choice but to commit fully and pass this class, so help your parents. You suppose you can find the motivation in a hot professor and at the very least, make an effort to roll out of bed and be presentable on the days you show up to his class. You exhale softly, hearing the shuffling of books and closing laptops to rouse you from your thoughts. 
“And don’t forget, first five chapters of tulip fever for next class,” his voice booms in the auditorium, fighting with the noise of students desperate to leave and head to their next class or back to their rooms. You flit your eyes towards your professor, arms crossed and muscles bulging against his shirt, casually leaned against his desk. His eyes meet yours for a moment and your breath hitches immediately. His brow quirks at you silently and you’re sure you might disintegrate on spot. You feel your face heat up and you break away the eye contact to rush out of the lecture, both exhausted and perpetually embarrassed, not having enough energy to handle feeling both. In your haste, you miss the way Logan's lip quirks up for a split second at you, rushing out the door with Tulip Fever and streaks of grey on your mind. 
You find you can’t keep your modern history professor off the brain since leaving the lecture hall that wednesday, ever so flustered. You thought about his thick arms back at your dorm, and how they might feel wrapped around you in a warm embrace. You thought about those graying temples, and the picture it would paint with his head between your thighs. You thought about him in your humanities class as your professor droned on about morality and its many philosophical perspectives, but you tune her voice out and think of his instead, wondering what it would sound like whispering sweet nothings in your ear. The level of yearning you’ve reached is bound to get you in trouble, hell it’s gotten you in trouble already— completely neglecting to finish the first five chapters of Tulip Fever like Professor Howlett had assigned, losing yourself in the work from your other classes. Friday had snuck up on you and you smacked your forehead for being so forgetful, the beginnings of discourage and a knot forming in your stomach. I’m a failure, I suck at this, I should drop out, I’m such a fucking idiot.
The thought of letting down a man you barely know has you berating yourself even further. You need to get a grip and quickly— he’s your teacher for God's sake. You suck in a breath, finding yourself sat in the same lecture hall your vivid fantasies found themselves being born in, laptop open as you’re frantically reading the Sparknotes summary minutes before class is set to start. Today, you chose a seat in the second row, still far off to the right side. You weren’t sure you could stay coherent with his gaze on you so heavy.  You tell yourself you picked this spot for a better learning experience, closer seats meaning less of a chance you fall prey to your fantasies, but deep down beyond the denial you knew better than to convince yourself of a lie like that. You sat upfront because you wanted to see Professor Howlett better, to pinpoint the hues of his eyes you couldn’t make out yesterday from so far behind. You wanted to trail your eyes up and down his muscular frame, taking snapshots of the hair on his forearms, the freckles on his thick knuckles, the veins trailing his big hands—
“Good morning, everyone,” a gruff voice speaks and you feel a ball of energy sits itself deep in your stomach, it’s him. You've missed the deep baritone of his voice, you realize. “Hope you all read up the chapters, yeah? We’ll be discussing ‘em today, and I am the asshole who picks on students to participate.” There’s a soft wave of grumbles from some, but your panic is quiet and you hope to a God in heaven somewhere that he doesn’t pick you, god knows you barely retained any information from your flash round of Sparknotes earlier.
“Like any book, the first few chapters were mostly exposition, character and scene setting stuff. Tell me, what does Sophia’s marriage and lack of heir signify to us in these times?” Professor Howlett asks, and you immediately avert your gaze to the grooves and scratches in the table in front of you. Please don’t pick me, please don’t pick me, please please please— “Yeah, you,” your head snaps up, heart hammering in your chest when you see him nod his head at some girl, some girl with too much fucking chest out, you spit, her hand raised high and smile plastered across her smug little face. Your brows pull together and you barely contain the urge to roll your eyes at her enthusiasm. 
“Thank you, Professor,” This fucking bi- “I think that- that while Cornelius and Sophia are often representative of the way marriage was a lot of the times something more transactional, her being unable to have a kid being a main problem- shows how a lot of times a marriage with no evidence of, um, consummation, is seen as practically null and void.” Your fist tenses against the desk at her answer.
“Little long winded, but yeah, good job..?” his voice lilts off, and you smile a bit knowing he doesn’t even remember her name. “Oh, um, Amber,” she sputters out. He nods at her response and continues asking questions about the book. You feel a little bad as class progresses, your unprovoked and unwarranted jealousy towards another woman over a man who’s simply an authority figure to you both, no matter how attractive, makes you cringe. What is he doing to you? 
“Good answers, guys. Glad you all did more than skim the book,” Professor Howlett muses, turning his back to face you all as he digs through his briefcase. You take this time to admire how broad his back looks, draped in a black polo shirt today that practically has you drooling. “The rest of you I didn’t pick on today aren’t unscathed unfortunately,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. He turns around and presents the stack of papers between his large hands to you all and he smirks, “Pop quiz.” 
A myriad of groans come crashing from all over the lecture hall right down to your ears and you silently join, hands falling down against your desk. You sincerely hope these weren’t going to be graded, praying that Professor Howlett possesses some sense of apologeticness, knowing that the definite zero percent you’d get on this would completely fuck over your overall average for the rest of the semester, subsequently giving your parents ample reason to rip you a fucking brand new one. 
Row by row, he passes a stack of papers for each student to pass down and he stops in front of you, seeing as you so conveniently sat at the end of the second row. “Nervous?” he asks, brow quirked and smug fucking look on his face as you look up at him. You quirk your eyebrow right back at him, “Hardly.” A group of papers fall in front of you and he breathes out a laugh, leaving you to pass papers to the next row. You lied like shit, you were insanely nervous, knowing you hadn’t retained a lick of information from your mini crash course nor the class’ discussion prior.
“No tech, no cheating. You guys know the drill, don’t make me catch you and have to chew you out. Twenty minutes and I’m picking ‘em up.” Logan says, walking down the aisle and back to his desk, his hulking frame leaning against his desk and his arms crossed up against his chest so tight that his biceps practically bulge out of his shirt. Or maybe, he’s just that toned, that any movement, minuscule or major, would have him threatening to rip out of his clothes. You’re practically fighting yourself in your seat, tearing your eyes away from his thick arms and heavy pectorals and down to your paper. 
It’s one page, front and back, ten questions. It wouldn’t be so bad had you actually read the book, considering you can’t even remember the name of the main character in the book. You bite your lip, trying so hard to rack your brain for something that resembles a coherent answer to these questions that will give you at least a 75%, knowing it wouldn’t skew your grade average completely off. What does Maria’s role stand to symbolize in the context of 1600’s Amsterdam?. You clench your  fist so hard around your pen you’re almost amazed that it doesn’t break under the pressure. You didn’t even remember a Maria in the book.
Twenty minutes of writing later, grasping at straws for potential points that would make you feel better than getting a big fat zero on your first quiz in this class, in his class, you’re walking to his desk to place your quiz in a pile with the rest of your peers, just as he’d instructed. You kept your eyes down the entire time, feeling too embarrassed to look at him after that silly excuse for banter you had attempted earlier. Hardly. Yeah fucking right. 
After your quiz, you had been dismissed from class, and you felt the anxiety set in almost immediately. The phone call you had with your parents that weekend over your classes and grades so far only worsened, the stern and subtly implied threat of coming back home to learn at a local college looming silently above you if you didn’t keep your grades up. You had obviously avoided mentioning the pop quiz you had, choosing not to set them ablaze at the mention of the fact that you most definitely failed that pop quiz. The stress of your grades instilled a new found productivity in you, in which you took initiative to read ahead of the assigned chapters and annotate as well as take notes for your modern history class, hoping to be prepared next time he’d ask a question. Your stomach churns at the thought of his praise, Good answer. Very good, kiddo. Like that idea. you imagined he’d say to you. You bite your lip as you study your western civilization notes, maybe he’d even indulge in you, call you his good girl, his good little student, something that Amber would never have above you. 
Monday and Tuesday went by uneventfully, as you completed your labs and started on your assignments when assigned. Tuesday night however, you had been anxious almost, or maybe excited— you weren’t sure, but you did know you wanted to be prepared for this class, to prove to Professor Howlett that you could handle his class, show him that you wouldn’t let him chew you up and spit him out so easily. You took the time before bed on that Tuesday to prepare your books in your bag, organize your notes, and even pick out an outfit, neatly folding it and leaving it on your desk chair. Grades be damned, you were beyond ready to prove everyone wrong, yourself included. 
You sat in the front row again, enraptured in the world of Tulip Fever, but really you would rather focus on Professor Howlett. He was all you thought about these days, especially at night when it was only you and the dark of your dorm to entertain you before bed. You hear a giggle next to you and you snap your head to the direction of the noise. Amber. A deep rumble sounds in front of you, someone clearing their throat. You look forward again and see your professor and your face heats up. “Welcome back to earth, sweetheart,” he muses, humour painted all over his face. Your eyes widen at the pet name he’s given you and you feel like sinking into your seat. “I need you here next time, yeah? Not in that pretty little head of yours,” he says, quiet enough so only you and the front two rows can hear. Your head spins. Pretty. He called you pretty. He continues his lecture like nothing else happened, leaving you dazed at his affection. His eyes flit to you briefly and he smiles, before walking back to the front of the class. 
Little moments like these pepper themselves throughout your lectures with Profess Howlett in between the assignments and lectures and raised hands. You’d catch him looking at the juncture of your breasts sometimes as you wore low cut tops, his lilting voice calling you precious pet names, sweetheart, kiddo, sweets. They all have your face warming. Heated gazes, stolen smiles, one off banter, you were convinced you were being delusional. One particular moment after class where you had asked for details on an assignment had you reeling for days. You went up to him after class to ask your question. His face was insanely close, you could smell the mint off his breath from the gum he was chewing during the lecture, feel his words fan your face, deep rumblings and focused glares as you were only inches away from his face. His lips, oh God his lips… so close, so soft looking, so pink, you had been so caught up in him the entire time. And he had noticed, his fingers coming up to your chip to raise your gaze. He did it wordlessly, eyeing you as you eyed him. His look daring you to say something. Challenge me. I dare you. But you didn’t— you couldn’t, you had tried to focus on something else, his musky woodsy scent, his greying stubble, anything, as he continued to explain your question to you. You walked out of his class that day with jello for legs, replaying the moment in your mind. 
Next class you had seen him he had given the assignments back, adorned with little gold stars on those who had grades higher than a B minus. Your paper had come back to you with an A minu, a little gold star next to your grade. “Boosts morale,” had been Logan’s explanation when a student had asked why the gold star. You smiled. Cute. 
You had felt like you finally found your groove, despite the hiccup you had at the beginning. Your first test of the semester approached, and you weren’t nervous, in fact you showed up to class early, getting a chance to get a good spot and watch Professor Howlett walk in and begin setting up. You had waved, a meek good morning in your own words and he returned a wink back. Your insides tugged at themselves. He had waltzed over to you in your seat, starting up conversation. “Nervous?” he asks, curt and short. You smile, “Hardly,” using your own words once more. “I’m gunning on a gold star. I studied extra hard.” Professor Howlett hums, smile on his face. “I look forward to seeing your work. I enjoy reading it,” he says. He leaves you with those words as he walks back to his desk, more students beginning to pepper in the classroom as the test hour approached. You had been so sure you did excellent on your test, studying for days and days beforehand. So when you got back your test, a C Minus staring back at you with a gut wrenching empty space next to your grade right where a star would be. Tears prick your eyes as you look at the grade, feeling so disappointed in yourself. This couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.
You had promptly stayed behind after class to speak to him, and it seemed like Amber had the same idea, her body close to his as she spoke lowly. She didn’t spare a glance back at you as she spoke to him, hand grazing his bicep as she walked away and past you. Your eyes rolled in your head and you walked up to Professor Howlett next. He’s in the middle of packing up his papers in his bag when you come up to him, and he glances up in acknowledgment before going back to what he’s doing. You breathe out and his brown quirks as he pauses and looks at you. “Yes?” he asks. “I… I would like to see you after class if possible to discuss my grades,” you say, fist curling and uncurling with nerves. ”Tomorrow afternoon come see me at my office,” he says, arms crossing. “Don’t be late. Don’t get your hopes up either,” he quirks. You chew your lip before sighing. “I’ll be there. On time.” 
And true to your word, you showed up promptly and on time. Your heart was hammering in your chest cavity so hard you felt like it would burst through your ribcage. Your lower lip found itself between your teeth, chewing at it tenderly. You had been staring at the mahogany colored door, finished with a shiny golden plaque, L. Howlett, PHD. carved within the surface of the precious metal. His name posed just as intimidating as he did. You’d been standing in front of his door for almost three minutes now, fingers skimming along the hem of your plaid skirt. The accompanying white tanktop and white cardigan hand made your subconscious intentions loud and clear, as some part of you, a delusional part of you, had hoped this school girl-esque get up would grant you some sort of leniency with Professor Howlett as you begged for him to give you a retake, a makeup assignment, something for God’s sake.
Any moment more of hesitancy and you would be late for your two o’clock appointment time, so you bring your knuckles up to the door to knock, twice in succession, when the door swings open in front of you. Your knuckle is almost met with Amber’s face, her shock seeing you just as evident as hers. She doesn’t let it linger however, as she casts a glance over her shoulder and muses a “Bye Professor. Thank you so much, I’ll see you in class Monday,” before looking back forward and right back at you, holding your gaze as she walks right out the door and past you, making sure her shoulder doesn’t miss yours. You scoff. Bitch. 
“Right on time. Come in,” he gestures, refusing to get up from his comfy looking office chair. As you walk around his office you take in the interior briefly. The mahogany furniture, the lingering smell of cigar smoke, evidence of his nasty habit sitting on top of an ashtray on his desk, the glass bar cart, adorned with various bottles of whiskey and gin, and a mini fridge sitting on its bottom shelf— filled with ice and garnish you assume. You eye his book cabinet, shelves stuffed with various literary titles, old and new, classic and contemporary. You find yourself impressed, but you shouldn’t be, his teaching— albeit rough, brutish sometimes even— is a testament to his passion towards books and literature. You smile a little as you sit down in the foam lined chair in front of his desk. You try not to think of who sat in it before you as you feel the residual warmth of it against your thighs. You take in Professor Logan, black t-shirt and dark blue jeans— casual, but damn if he made it look good. You eyed his arms, veiny and bulging out his shirt, before flickering your attention back to his face, framed by those greying temples you oh so loved.
“So?” He trails, redirecting his attention from his desktop to you. You swallow a little and sigh. “Um, I know that you said no… no retakes or anything, and I understand your answer if it’s a hard no,” you say, pausing to look at him to try and assess what he’s thinking, but you’re simply met with a raised brow and crossed arms as he leans back further in his chair. “But I… I was wondering if- Well, my parents, they said that If I have a grade lower than an A on my report card this semester I had to drop out and transfer locally, and I don’t want to make this a pity story but I… It’s only this class where I’m having trouble. And I know what you said but my last test really fucked my average and I-” your nervous ramblings are cut off by him raising his hand. Your lips clamp and you watch him, waiting for his impending words. He makes you sit in the silence and with your words, instead opening his desk drawer, rifling between what sounds like various loose pens and papers before taking a lighter out. Small, sliver, zippo style and engraved with meticulous swirls. He picks up the already cut cigar out the ashtray, placing it between his pink lips, and lights it— two experimental puffs of smoke floating your way and you get dizzy. 
“You don’t mind?” He asks only now, and you try not to roll your eyes and that façade of chivalry. “No,” you shake your head. “Thought so,” he smiles, smug. He puffs from the cigar once more before he places it down on the glass ashtray once again before he speaks up. “As it stands now if you tighten up for the rest of the semester you can pass my class with a B something, which don’t sound too bad to me, sweetheart.” Your gut twists with tension. A B isn’t what you need. You brows furrow and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. “I would love to help you sweetheart, trust me I would. But that wouldn’t be fair to all the other students who come waltzing in here dressed just like you, begging for an A,” he drawls, picking up his cigar again and slotting it between his lips before he stands up and your breath hitches. “Wh- dressed like me? I didn’t-” you begin, confused at what he’s implying. Your eyes follow his moving figure, his steps taking him around his desk to the side of your chair, conveniently eye level to his groin. 
“But you did, didn’t you?” he asks softly, thumb coming to your chin to direct your gaze up to his eyes. “I don’t understand…” you murmur, skin beginning to warm at the rather inappropriate contact and position. Your chest heaves up and down beneath your cardigan and he surely notices letting out a soft chuckle. “You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can put two and two together,” he continues, thumb rubbing softly back and forth against your chin before he drops his hand from you completely. Your eyes drop in sync to his limb, your mind racing a million thoughts a second. But… isn’t this what you wanted? What you needed? What you’ve dreamed of for weeks upon weeks? “Look at me,” he says, stern. And you do. “You listen so well,” he hums and you feel the makings of a fire ignite itself inside you somewhere deep. I’m being good. Good for him. “Kills you inside that you couldn’t get that shiny little sticker, doesn’t it?” he muses, looking down at you with mirth swirling in his eyes. You feel tears spring to your eyes at his words. He sees right through you. It did hurt. All you ever wanted to be was good for him. 
“We can fix that today. Tell you what, you be a good student for me, and I’ll be a good teacher to you, yeah?” he says, taking a puff from his cigar. “Nod your head like a good student.” And you do. Up and down, slowly. Your brain is fuzzy. This surely isn’t happening, is it? It couldn’t be. He walks away and back to his desk, propping his cigar down after asking it. He pushes a pile of papers from his desk, until he finds what he’s looking for. A sticker sheet. What is he…
“C’mere,” Professor Howlett gestures with a finger, simultaneously sitting back on his chair. Your legs are trembling under you as you get up and walk towards his side of the desk. Logan pivots his desk chair to the side as you walk over to him and you find yourself standing between his legs, quiet. “Take that off,” he says, flicking his head towards your cardigan. You let it drop off your shoulder promptly, standing only in your white tank top and plaid skirt. “Kneel,” he says, and you drop immediately. Pathetic. Your hands lay in your laps as you’re sat between his legs on your knees. Your breathing is as laboured as ever. You can’t believe this is happening— something that you spent nights dreaming of. Touching him, tasting him, feeling him. He reaches over to his desk and grabs the sticker sheet of gold stars, a fresh sheet of stars neatly arranged row by row. “You know what to do, don’t you sweetheart?” he asks, palm of his hand running against your face. You nod, reaching forward to the zipper of his dark denim jeans before his palm grabs your hand. “When I ask you somethin’, I want a verbal answer. Y’understand?” he says. Your voice feels caught in your throat. He’s so intense your head is spinning. “Y-yes,” you breathe. “Yes what?” he spits back and your heart hammers. “Y-yes, Sir.”
“Good girl,” he hums. He lets go of your hands, taking a sticker off the sheet and placing a small gold star right next to your left eye. Your face heats up at the praise and you almost let out a breath, but you don’t. Your hands go back to undressing Professor Howlett, fingers deft with his button and zipper. He lifts his hips up and helps you shrug his jeans down until they’re sitting on top of his black combat boots, clad only in black briefs. The heavy tent in his pants makes your eyes go wide but you persist, thinking of your grade on the line. With a tug at his boxer band his dick pops up over the elastic, and you pull down until the full sheath of him is bobbing freely. Your eyes widen a little at the sheer size of him, wondering how he could possibly fit inside your mouth let alone your pussy. He was long, eight inches you’d guess just by looking and insanely thick. He was heavy too— the length of him unable to stand up fully, bobbing haphazardly as he twitched from arousal. You looked up at him, and his gaze was steady. Expectant. You sucked in a shallow breath before grabbing his cock, warm to the touch. Your fingers barely touched. You’re hand jerked up once before Professor Howlett was grabbing your wrist, only to spit on his dick, the string of saliva landing on the shaft. “S’better. Go on,” he encourages, and you do— jerking him a little faster now with his spit lubricant, the sound of his slick skin making your pussy feel warm, wet. You jerk him faster, spitting in the palm of your second hand before you join your other, breasts bouncing up and down as you jerk him. Little grunts leave Logan, and it makes your tummy feel warm. You were making him feel— “Good, just like that, yeah. Use your mouth now,” he moans. You felt intimidated by his size, but you persisted still. You wanted to be his good girl.
You look up at him as your mouth opens, coy like a fish, and you wrap your lips around his tip. He inhales a sharp breath and it gives you some encouragement. Be good. Your head drops lower, lower and lower until your mouth his full and his tip is tickling your uvula, and you gag around him, sputtering spit all over him. You pull off his dick to cough and he chuckles at you. “Let’s try again together, yeah?” You nod, “Yes, Sir.” You reposition yourself, back on your knees in front of him. “Open your mouth and stick your tongue out, open real wide,” he says, tapping your cheek. It felt soft slap more than a tap however. But still, you open your mouth wide, tongue hanging out. “Juuust like that, yeah…” Logan groans, slapping the warmth of his cock on your tongue. “Breath through the nose,” he says, before putting the length of him in your mouth and pulling your head down on him, fist clenched in your hair. He pulls you down deep, further than you managed to reach alone and you gag, spit everywhere, but he pays you no mind. His curses under his breath before standing up out of his seat, your head craning up as his fist pulls at your nape. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he breathes, thrusting his cock in an out of your mouth. Your throat feels rubbed raw, tears pooling in your eyes but you hold on, hands gripping his thighs. “Take it, fucking take it,” he grunts. His hand disappears before placing a sticker on your spit-covered cheek and you whimper around his cock. Logan’s brows pull together and he laughs. “That turn you on? You like being my good little student? You like sucking off your professor?” he laughs, fucking your face with a deep pace. You muffle a Yes, Sir around him as his spit soaked balls slap against your chin and he laughs. Sticker after sticker covers the expanse of your face, a juxtaposition to your debauched mascara-streaked-spit-covered face.
Your throat is raw, but you’re relishing in the attention, the praise, the intensity of it. “One more mouthful, c’mon,” he grunts, pushing your head down even further down his cock and you squeal around him. Your eyes snap shut, focusing on holding your breath as he brings his dick deep down your throat until your nose is buried in his greying pubes. “So fucking nasty,” he drawls, deep groan leaving his chest. “Take it, be good and take it,” he says breathless, before he’s spitting his cum down your throat, leaving you no choice but to swallow his bitter semen. Your eyes wretch open lowly, watch Logan’s face contort in pleasure as he finishes in your throat and you whimper, squeezing his thighs tightly. “Good student,” he coos, pulling his cock from your mouth and it’s a relief that’s long overdue. Your first unobstructed breath is a deep one, and you’re slightly dizzy from the oxygen after having it restricted for so long. You don’t think about it for long before a hand is pulling you up off the floor, and before you know it, lips are on yours, tongue finding tongue. Your eyes close by themselves and you melt into the kiss, Professor Howlett’s lips soft against yours, but kissing you so roughly. Your arms grip his biceps, desperate for something to hold onto, anything to steady yourself with. 
The kiss breaks and your mind feels hazy. Your eyes open and you see Professor Howlett staring back at you, hands roaming your body. “Pr-professor…” you moan out after a particularly hard squeeze at your ass. “Logan, baby,” he says, kissing your lips once in a peck, and again as a sloppy embrace, his tongue swirling in your mouth and you keen into him. His hands pull at the back of your thighs and you jump up in his arms, wrapping your arms around his thick neck. He walks you a few paces, still stuck in an embrace, until he puts on you down on his desk. He breaks the kiss between you two before pulling the front of your tank top down, revealing your breasts to him, nipples pert. He wastes no time kissing and licking your chest, and you throw your head back in a silent moan. He sucks on your nipples for a minute, pinching and toying with your breast until your chest is heaving and nipples are raw. “What a sight for me,” Logan hums, and you feel shy under him like this. “Lean back and spread your legs f’me,” he says low, kneeling as you do as he asks. He’s eye level with your pussy, only covered by your skirt and white panties. He lifts the plaid fabric up and groans, the little wet spot of your pussy a delectable sight. 
Logan leans forward and licks the wet gusset of your panties and you let out a shuddering moan. “P-please, Logan…” you breath, too wound up to wait. He smirks and indulges in you, pliant and needy. He hooks a finger in the crotch of your panties and pulls them to the side, hurrying his face into your wet and waiting pussy. It’s an enrapturing feeling, having him suck and lick and taste your clit and folds like this, groaning into you and he praises you for having such a sweet fuckin’ pussy, baby. He sucks your clit roughly, before pulling back to spit on your pussy, rubbing his nose against your clit before flattening his tongue against your gushing slit once again. The streaks of grey between your thighs sends blood rushing downwards to the center of your arousal and you can’t help but run your hands through his salt and pepper hair. He licks and tongues you until your legs go numb, teasing your orgasm from you time and time again until you’re nearly in tears for him, ready to cum.
 “Please Lo- Sir. Please, Sir. Wanna cum, I’ll be good. Just-” your begging is cut short as two thick fingers push themselves in you and you throw your head back at the stretch. “You’re gonna come for me in a little, sweetheart. Be good for now,” Logan coos, kissing your inner thighs. You’re heaving as he curls and scissors his fingers inside you in a way that feels so unfairly good that tears begin to streak down your face, gold stickers peeling and falling off your damp skin; scattering down on the desk and falling on your chest. “G-gonna… Oh my God, Sir,” you squeal, just about ready to… Until his fingers deftly leave you. Before you can whine about this, Logan’s thick fingers covered in your slick push into your mouth and you groan. “Hush, baby. You’re about to feel real good in a little,” Logan hums, rubbing his cock, now hard again, up and down your wet and sensitive pussy, the head of him hitching your clit so good it hurts. His fingers leave your mouth. “Beg for it.” And you do. You’re a babbling mess under him. “Inside, p-put it inside me, Professor,” you moan, and Logan's resolve snaps, thrusting into you in one fluid movement.
You see stars, no pun intended, at the stretch of him. Your stomach feels full and you shudder, laying back down against the desk. “Tightest, sweetest fucking pussy I ever felt,” Logan coos, fingers pushing back into your mouth. His unoccupied hand grabs your leg and throws it over his shoulder and he begins to thrust in and out of you, knocking the wind out of you with every push in and out. Your intermittent moans turn into a symphony of cries as his pace increases and he’s fucking into you at a brutal speed. Your hands are grasped around the wrist of his hand that’s by your mouth, sucking his fingers to soothe the burning part of the pleasure. “That’s it, fucking take it,” he grunts, pushing your leg from around his should back until your knee was touching your shoulder. The new angle made the pleasure unbearable, every movement rubbing against your g-spot. Your eyes begin to close, your body shutting down seemingly as you begin to enter a pleasure comatose, the bubbling pleasure, the fingers in your mouth, it all feels like too much. But Logan doesn’t let you stay in that place for too long, his fingers leaving your mouth to slap your cheek, pulling back down. “I need you right here, know it feels good but I want you with me,” he says breathy, thrusts still never faltering. 
Without his fingers in your mouth your moans are free to be heard, your incoherent babbles of “s’too much,” and “so deep in me, sir,” floating in the air between Logan’s heavy breaths and obscene curses. You’re breasts jump with every thrust in you, your head bouncing up and down from the sheer force of his thrusts. “T-Tell me…” you stutter out, eyes fluttering. “Tell you?” he asks, grinding his hips up and deep, and you’re sure he’s grazing your cervix. You grip his t-shirt and keel. He gets what you mean. “Good girl. My good girl. You’re the best girl. You want another star, don’t you?” he breathes out, a hand moving down to your clit as he thrusts up and out, up and out into you. You whimper, his words and ministration’s overwhelming, “Yes, Sir. M’good. So good. W-want it. Please, can I have it?” you babble. You belly feels warm, and the heat bubbles with every brush at your swollen clit and thrust in your pussy. He lets go of the hand at your knee, spreading you open to grab a sticker from the sticker sheet. “Stick your tongue out f’me,” and you do, overwhelmed with this moment. You’re being good. You’re being good. You’re almost there, keep being good. He spits in your mouth and you moan holding it there and waiting for him to tell you what to do. “Swallow it,” he huffs, thrusts faltering. He’s close, you deduce. I don’t want it to end. Please don’t let it end. You swallow and stick your tongue back out to show him and he groans.
He puts the star sticker on your tongue, and he thrusts in you harder, tweaking at your clit as he does. Your body seizes and you melt into a fit of moans and grunts, and you finally cum, Logan fucking you through it. “Yeah baby, just like that. Kneel for me,” he says, pulling out of you. You lay up off the desk and fall promptly to your knees, watching him jerk himself to orgasm above you with your tongue out, gold star on the middle of your tongue. He grunts with deep Fuck! before warm ropes of cum spray your partially sticker-covered face and tongue. Your eyes close and you hum, relishing in the warmth. Logan wipes the cum from your eyes with his thumb and sticks it in your mouth, and you suck, no questions asked. “Good fucking girl.” 
The moments following are awkward. Logan tucks himself back in his pants, and pulls his jeans up and you’re left laying on the floor, coming down from your ecstasy high. The zip of his jeans breaks the silence and you’re looking up at him, soiled with cum, spit, stickers, tears and mascara. He walks to his bar cart and grabs the cloth hanging off the handle bar, and he hands it to you. You clean yourself up, and when you’re done you find his cardigan in his hands. You fix your tank top back over your breasts and pull the crotch of your panties back into place before grabbing it from him. “Thanks,” you say quietly. “See you in class on Tuesday,” is the last thing he says to you before you leave his office. Stunned.
On Tuesday, he hands you back your test with a new grade, an eighty, and gold sticker placed on it right next to the new grade. He glances at you as you look over your test, and smirks. You read the note he left in red ink on the back of the test, heart beating a little faster once you look back up at him. Good girl. 
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send me an ask!
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pinkiemachine · 1 day ago
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I am still waiting, Hishe…
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Kal: Bruce, there you are — what in the world?
Bruce: Hey Kal.
Kal: Who are all these kids?!
Bruce: My Bat Family. I’m a dad now.
Kal: Since when?!
Bruce: Since 1940. Try to keep up.
Kal: I thought it was just the one! Hi, Nightwing.
Dick: Hi Superman! Yeah, I have siblings now.
Kal: And how’s that working out?
Dick: Most of us have died at least once.
Kal: …What?
Bruce: Hey Kal, check it out. This one’s super smart, and we have matching coffee mugs.
Tim: :)
Bruce: This one…
Cass: …
Bruce: Actually, this one scares me. And this one glows in the dark! Heheh!
Duke: :D
Kal: I can see that…
Damian: Father, I’m hungry. When are we having dinner?
Bruce: How many criminals have you caught today?
Damian: *holds up three villains* Is this sufficient?
Bruce: Eh, it’s good enough. Here. *tosses him a tofu hotdog, like just the dog part* Keep working on it. Three more and you get the bun.
Kal: *horrified silence*
Dick: Hmph! When I was Robin, I could catch at least five criminals before dinner.
Tim: Oh my gosh, Dick, no one cares!
Jason: No one cares about anything in this stinkin’ family. Where were you all when I died, huh?!
Everyone: *groan*
Damian: Quit being such a drama queen, Todd! It’s not like losing your life is the end of the world!
Tim: Yeah!
Damian: You shut up. The only thing you’ve ever lost is your spleen.
Duke: And his parents.
Everyone except Damian: *parental trauma* AH!
Bruce: I told you never to mention that!
Kal: I can’t believe what I’m watching… Does Alfred know about this?!
Bruce: Yeah, totally, he’s cool with it.
Kal: *narrowing his eyes* I have a very hard time believing that.
Bruce: Well, he works for me, so shut up.
Kal: What about Catwoman?! Does Catwoman know about this?!
Bruce: *nervous* Um… well…
Damian: *suspicious* Who’s Catwoman?
Bruce: *very nervous* No one.
Dick: Oh, he is so dating Catwoman!
Tim: Why didn’t you tell us?!
Jason: What if we don’t want a step-mom, huh?!
Bruce: Woah, hold on now —
Duke: Look, you’re upsetting Batgirl!
Cass: …
Bruce: Alright, that’s enough! We’re not gonna talk about this anymore! Because —
Everyone: *annoyed* — you’re Batman!
Bruce: No! Because I said so! …And also, yes, because I’m Batman! Cause Batman says so!
Kal: *smirking* More like because you’re Bat-Dad.
Bruce: >:(
Kal: And hey, where’s Barbara? I thought she was Batgirl?
Bruce: *nervous* She was…
Kal: …Bruce, what did you do?
Dick: Oh, don’t worry, Superman, Barbara’s fine.
Kal: Oh, thank goodness.
Jason: She’s just paralysed from the waste down.
Kal: Bruce!
Bruce: It wasn’t my fault! She’s not even technicially my kid!
Kal: Bruce…
Bruce: Oh, don’t you “Bruce” me. I’ll “Bruce” you… “Bruce” you in the face.
Kal: Okay, that’s it, you are not allowed to find any more sidekicks starting right now!
Bruce: *holding up Harper* What about this one?
Kal: No!
Bruce: *holding up Spoiler* This one still has a parent — I can just be a mentor.
Kal: No!
Bruce: Well, gee, Kal, what am I supposed to do with all the orphans in Gotham, then, huh?!
Kal: Do you hear yourself right now?
Bruce: I have a system, Kal!
Kal: That’s it! There’s only way to solve this!
*Superman grabs Batman, and they fly off*
*Batman then appears on the couch in Therapist Spider-Man’s office from Across the Spider-Verse*
Therapist Spider-Man: Would you say you carry any trauma from your childhood?
Batman: *leans over* Do I have a story for you.
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My childhood was made worse because I was expected to stay quiet, out of the way, and do what I was told without hesitation at home. Explanations were rarely given to anything and I never knew what to expect.
My older siblings were particularly bad at this and I was left alone with them most days when I was small. They just didn’t have the patience for my questions. Probably because our parents had never had patience for them and, ya know, they were like 12.
I cried half of my first day of public school simply because no one had explained to me that I’d have to stay in one room most of the day and couldn’t get up to go learn in a different room like I’d done at my previous Montessori school.
Assigned desk? Why? I have to sit here all day?! What do you mean I can’t go over there and learn with the puppets when I want to?
That’s just one example but I have tons of them. Including the time I had surgery that had me in bed for 3 months. It’s really no wonder that by 5th grade I was depressed.
Explain things to kids! It’s worth the time!
unsolicited parenting advice of the day tell your kids what to expect! If your two year old is anxious about when dad is going to get home from work, teach him to recognize what patterns indicate that dad is coming home soon! After lunch we will do an activity and then clean and THEN dad will get home. Listen when the calendar day starts with an S dad does not have to go to work!!
and if something goes wrong and today does NOT go according to the plan your little guy expects, tell him!! Hey, dad has to go to work after all today, but he will be home after lunch! Today dad has to get groceries after work, so he’ll be home later than normal. But he will return with more bananas! Focus on the positives too, give them things they can understand. Don’t just say “not today,” they understand the concept of grocery stores and unexpected trips. Just tell them the problem. You’d hate being in the dark about everything that happens to you also. Let them control their situation, even if it’s just their own emotions and expectations.
or even! Teach them to read an analogue clock! Let me tell you, church nursery in the 1.5-3.5 age group got so much less stressful and anxious for EVERYONE when I taught my kids how to read the clock. They don’t have to ask me anymore how much time is left and fish for answers I can’t give them. They know that their guardians will come for them when the long stripe on the clock touches the 2, and that if they aren’t there then then they’re LATE and they get to hold this over their parents head. Because they know their parents can be late. And they LOVE knowing when this has occurred. There is so much less anxiety.
anyway explain stuff to your kids, they want to know. This has been an unsolicited parenting advice PSA
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traveler-at-heart · 3 days ago
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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?
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deathofacupid · 2 days ago
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you can't remember your last kiss with nanami kento. no matter how much you try, you just can't.
was it this morning? when he woke you up, newborn daughter in-hand? no, that couldn't have been it. because, after, he kissed you again, chaste, as he moved past you to get to the dishwasher.
and then again, when he set your breakfast on the table. another time after, too. when he settled on the couch with you and his baby girl.
but was that the last one? or, was there more after?
you can't remember. in your defense, you didn't have a reason to keep track. there shouldn't have been. the second you told him you were pregnant, he dropped the world of jujutsu. it was over, or it should have been.
speaking of, your pregnancy, it wasn't ever anything you really wanted. it was something he did. kids. it was his dream, you're pretty sure, the whole white-picket-fence fantasy.
and you? you didn't care, not much. as long as you had nanami, you were okay with anything. besides, he'd been so happy when you broke the news. it's not like you guys had been actively trying, which is why you were surprised to see his reaction.
but again, for him, you'd do anything. what did it matter, anyways? it was just a kid, right? and he'd be there every step of the way, right?
wrong.
it was another sunday, the three of you had been snuggled up in bed, just when he got the call.
"they want me to come in," he explained, softly.
"what?" you knew the answer.
"i won't go if you don't want me to. but, darling, i doubt they'd have called me in, if it hadn't been urgent."
you inhaled, watching him gently rock his daughter in his arms. "does- does that mean it's bad, then?"
"well, i'm sure it's nothing i can't handle," he informed you, paired with a soft smile.
"i don't know, na'mi. you said you weren't gonna go back." there was hesitance in your voice, one that trembled.
"honey, that's why i said it's up to you, okay?" nanami pressed his lips to your forehead.
if people really needed him, who were you to not let him go? what were you supposed to do? say no, let those people die? guilt gnawed at you. slowly, you nodded, looking up to meet his gaze.
so, you stood there at the door, watching him kiss his baby what should've been a temporary goodbye.
you can't remember if he kissed you goodbye, too. he probably did, but you can't remember.
"promise you'll come back to me?" you'd buried your face into the crook of his neck.
"of course, baby. i promise."
fucking liar.
oh, god, and when they told you there wasn't even a body to recover?
too much. all too much.
you think that you would've followed him, had there not have been his baby stopping you.
kiss, kiss, kiss; why can't you remember? why?
the cries of his baby, the baby that yearns for her father, they are etched into your head. you can't get her to stop. you don't blame her. you can't stop, either.
you aren't her mother. she isn't your daughter.
she's nanami's, but he's gone.
the only thing he left you with is a child you never wanted, a living, breathing reminder of his absence, of his broken promise, of the kiss you can't remember — the kiss that might as well have never happened.
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My drama so far is so much more lame. I'm about halfway through my Freshman year so you have a timeline for this.
Theater: So this couple that's in sophomore year, broke up after three years together. They were cast together as the main couple in our play Puffs this year, and on the night of the second show they had an argument. Now I'm a tech person so I didn't see anything go down but apparently this happened again the next day, the day of our final show. And that night at the cast party, one of the other actors was flirting to the girl from this relationship while she flirt back and that's how everyone found out they broke up. About 90% sure they got together. But anyway the guy was devastated no one saw or heard from him for weeks, we were all getting really worried and then he just showed back up one day and hooked up with one of the senior guys(yes he's bi its high school theater none of us are straight), and we found out he was quitting theater the same day.
(Bonus: I wrote fanfiction about 2 unrelated characters from the play and it was shared around the entire cast before a senior friend of mine read it out load in dramatic reading for one of the actors who played one of the characters that I wrote about. The fanfiction I wrote about to sad gay Hogwarts kids and the life of one of them after the other dies in the battle of Hogwarts. traumatized him. I feel sorry for the man but we have talked and luckily he only holds the grudge against the friends that read it to him, who later wrote smut fanfic about the characters on Wattpad(mine was ao3)).
BEN(before I start this one I want to say I did date him for a month in middle school but I hate him for being a manipulative gaslighting bitch): SO started with small lies last year about being extremely good at a card game he played called Battle Spirits, none of us though anything of it as it was just him being cocky and pretending to be cool.
Then this year, supposedly has 9 grandparents die in the same 2 weeks, is still going to school and claims he cared but never brings it up unless we are talking about something he doesn't know about. Then claims his mom got pregnant with his what 5th sibling, a little girl. We know he doesn't have a mom that he's in contact with as he was adopted and his father is gay(my friends dad is friends with Ben's dad that's how we found out). Then less then 5 months after he made up lies about her whole pregnancy he claims his "little sister" dies of a non-existent heart disease. Still going to school and doesn't even bother pretending to act sad. Claims to win a world wide contest for the card game in Japan, we don't even have proof of him going to Japan over the summer.
We are getting tired and kick him out of the group. You want to know how he tried to convince us to let him back in? Claim he got a girl(from our school who we know) pregnant. Only took a month for him to try and gaslight the school into believing that abortion wasn't a medical procedure which you need parental consent for so that he could lie and say they never told their parents.
He also tried to claim he had the rarest blood type in the world when our school did a blood drive. He was referring to Rh-null also called Golden Blood. "Rh-null aka “Golden Blood” is the rarest blood type in the world with fewer than 50 (43 to be exact) known cases ever reported. While there are only eight main/common blood types, there are an additional 61 possible antigens in the Rh system, which means that the eight main blood types can be subdivided into millions of different blood types. Rh-null occurs when a person’s blood lacks all of the 61 possible antigens." (I am quoting this from an article about blood types: https://rarest.org/people/blood-types).
Yep this man has done so many other small things like claiming to have 1000s of dollars in custom made costumes while showing us ai photos of them, and thousands of dollars in cards for the card game(which might be the only true one as his dad owns a card and game shop).
Now that I wrote that whole thing maybe my life is much worse then I thought...
where do TV shows get this idea that high school is constant drama, nothing even fucking happened to me in high school
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aleexoxosstuff · 2 days ago
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-“IN ANOTHER LIFE”
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Pairing: 𝖩𝗎𝗇-𝖧𝗈 𝗑 𝖿𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖼é!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
Summary: 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖩𝗎𝗇-𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋.
Warning: 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗎𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍…, 𝖩𝗎𝗇-𝗁𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀!, 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍
𝖶𝖼: 5.9 𝗄 (𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀…)
𝖥𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌!!
𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖾, 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗓𝖺’𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾’𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍…
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ENDING YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH Jun-Ho was never a part of your plans.
During your time together, you felt like you floated on a cloud, enveloped in the warmth of his unwavering attention. He indulged your every desire, showering you with dates and gifts, leaving you with the lingering thoughts that you were unworthy of his devotion. Each moment spent with him felt like a scene from a romantic film, where the world faded away, and it was just the two of you.
You remember the way he looked at you, his eyes sparkling with admiration, as if you were the most precious thing in the world. The way he listened intently to anything you had to say, offering support and encouragement, made you feel seen in a way you had never experienced before.
You questioned whether you truly deserved the life he was offering you. You found yourself grappling with the doubts of your relationship, wondering if you could ever truly match the love he so freely gave. When he proposed you began to overthink like never before. Your friends cooed at the sparkling ring on your finger while bringing up how hard it must be dating a detective and how dangerous the career was. Before it was never a problem, now it was all on your mind.
As time passed, the weight of your insecurities started seeping into the relationship, casting shadows over the two of you. You found yourself hesitating to express your true feelings, fearing that if you told him everything, he might realize it was a mistake proposing to you.
Despite these internal struggles, the thought of ending things with Jun-Ho felt unfathomable. He was not just a partner; he was everything you had dreamed of as a kid. The idea of walking away from the love that had enveloped you in such warmth was something you couldn't ever think of doing. Instead, you clung to the hope that you could bridge the gap between your self-doubt and the love he offered, believing that perhaps, in time, you would get better.
When he told you that he would be gone for a couple of days for a work trip you were nervous. Several possibilities roamed your mind as he tried you reassure you he’d be fine. After avoiding a nervous breakdown and making him promise to return safely, you reluctantly agreed to let him go. You and his mother kept each other company while he was away, wanting to comfort one another. You went to work despite the eye-bags under your eyes, if people ever saw them they pretended not to notice out of pity. After work, you would greet his mother at your door, quietly eat dinner with minimal talk, and cry late into the night quiet enough for her not to wake up.
Upon receiving the call that he was hospitalized, it felt as though the very breath had been stolen from your lungs, leaving you gasping for air in a world that suddenly seemed darker and more uncertain. The thoughts that engulfed your mind as you learned of his precarious condition. The haunting fear that he might not see another day settled heavily in your chest, a weight that threatened to crush you under its intensity.
When you finally arrived at the hospital, the sight of him struck you like a physical blow. He appeared as a shadow of himself, a mere echo of the vibrant person you once knew. Adorned with a neck brace that seemed to confine him even further, and bandages that marred his skin, he lay there, vulnerable and fragile. The machines around him beeped rhythmically, a constant reminder of the life that hung in the balance, and you felt a deep ache in your heart as you took in the scene before you.
You remained steadfast by his side, your fingers entwined with his throughout the night, holding on as the hours slipped into the early morning light. Each minute felt like an eternity, and you found yourself whispering silent prayers, hoping against hope that he could hear you, that he could feel your presence anchoring him to this world. The warmth of your hand in his was a small comfort, a lifeline amid chaos, and you clung to it as if it were the only thing keeping you both tethered.
His mother, equally distraught, bore her own anguish, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with a sorrow that mirrored your own. You could see the weight of her worry etched into her features, the lines of fear and despair deepening with each passing moment. In that shared space of grief, you felt a profound sense of helplessness, unable to comfort her while grappling with your own despair. The air was thick with unspoken words, a shared understanding of the fragility of life that hung heavily between you.
As the night wore on, the hospital room became a sanctuary of sorts, a place where time seemed to stand still. You exchanged glances with his mother, each one laden with the weight of unexpressed fears and hopes. You wanted to reach out, to comfort her, to tell her that everything would be alright, but the truth was that you didn’t know. When he finally woke up, you gasped, afraid that your mind was playing tricks on you, wanting to play with you. Then, he said your name so delicately that tears had immediately fallen down your cheeks. You yelled out for the nurses to come, scared that he would fall back into unconsciousness. They pushed you aside gently as they checked up on him, his eyes stayed on you as you walked out to call his mother.
Hours later, they finally let the two of you have a peaceful moment to yourselves. You sat on the bed from the little space available as you caressed his face delicately. You didn’t want to disrupt the calm atmosphere, you wanted to know the truth but understood he might not be ready. His eyes softened as they watched your eyes study his features. His thumb grazed your left hand, messing with the ring that stood proudly on your ring finger. He watched your mouth twitch up, but it only stayed a moment before it faded away.
It was hard on the both of you, your relationship not being the same after he left. You longed for the days when everything felt effortless when love flowed freely between you without the burden of doubt or fear. Yet, as he returned, you made the conscious decision to refrain from asking him about what exactly had happened during his absence. You sensed that he was dealing with his own emotions, and the last thing you wanted was to add to his burden. Instead, you chose to leave the issue alone and be there when he was ready to share.
However, concern for his well-being weighed heavily on your heart. You could see the shadows of his struggles reflected in his eyes, and it pained you to witness the toll that had taken on him. This deep-seated worry compelled you to pause all wedding preparations, despite him saying he wanted to be married to you already. You both understood, perhaps more than anyone else, that the scars of recent events had yet to heal. The thought of making such a significant commitment loomed over you like a cloud, casting doubt on whether you were truly prepared to take that leap together. You held onto the hope that, in time, you would emerge stronger, ready to embrace the future you both envisioned.
Your apartment together was too quiet, Jun-ho went back to work as a detective which you voiced your discomfort over, but he’d dismissed you quickly and avoided the topic. You would clean the apartment spotless, cook his favorite meals, anything to try and make him open up more. All he would do was give you a gentle kiss before making his way to your shared room.
You couldn’t handle it anymore, after six long months you were tired. It was another night when Jun-ho would brush you off, his eye-bags showing how exhausted he was. You called out to him, grabbed his hands, and led him to sit down beside you. When you told him that he needed to take a break from working he finally blew up.
“Quit acting so worried, I’ve told you several times that I’m fine. Not even my mother acts so worried about me.” He shot out, he quickly grew annoyed by you. He took his hand out of your hold and sighed in frustration. You were hurt, never before had he talked to you like this, the two of you never even fought much, there were little disagreements. You had a feeling that this would spiral out of control.
“I’m your fiance, I have a right to tell you when you need to take a break. You have no idea how worrying it is seeing you go back to work knowing how dangerous it is.” You scoffed out, following him as he stood up, making his way to the room where the two of you spent countless nights together. You weren’t going to give up on this, you needed to vent out all of your frustrations.
“Do you know how hard it is for me? I’m trying to move on from what happened.” He says with his back facing you, not able to look you in the eye as he speaks. You wanted to comfort him but anger surged through you as you spewed out words you’d been keeping to yourself for months.
“From what? For months you’ve pushed me away ever since the incident and I have no clue what even happened to you! Do you know how terrifying it was when you returned with a bullet shot through your shoulder?!” You yelled out, you wanted him to understand how hurt you were, that you hated being in the dark for months not knowing what happened to the only man you ever loved.
“I’m not a child, I know how to take care of myself.” Jun-ho exasperated. He was now sitting on the bed, stripping from his shirt that stuck to him. You eyed him in irritation. You didn’t like how he tried to brush off your words, instead focusing on taking a shower.
“You’re so cruel Jun-ho, I love you of course I’m going to worry about you. You come home exhausted to even talk to me about your day, everyday it’s the same routine, you eat, take a shower, and then go to sleep.” You cried out, unable to understand why he was being so cruel with his actions. You couldn’t fathom that this was the same man who would trap you in a hug until you forgave him for the littlest of disagreements.
“I’m tired of it. I’m tired of all of this Jun-ho.” You pleaded, a tear slipping from your eye, you could feel them finally coming down. Your throat tightened up in pain and an aching pain was beginning to build up in your heart.
“Shit, all you’ve done is smother me and act like I'm going to break any minute. That’s what I’m tired of. I get off work and you tread around me like I’m a stranger in our apartment.” He snapped, looking you in the eyes as he towered over you. He softened for a moment as he wiped the tears off your cheeks that reddened at how angry you were. You moved from his touch, ignoring his face drop, and pressed a finger at his bare chest.
“Oh yeah? If that’s how you feel then why did you never tell me how you felt? A relationship is supposed to make you feel secure enough to be vulnerable.” You spat out, yanking your finger away when he grabbed onto it to stop you from poking him. He sighed once more pulling you out of the way and making his way to the shower.
“Quit backing out of this conversation and tell me how you really feel!”
“I feel that you're suffocating me in this fucking relationship! I feel that I’m fucking tired of you treating me delicately, and I’m exhausted from being near you when you try to pretend everything is fine.” He clenched his jaw while pointing his finger back at you. Jun-ho’s eyebrows were furrowed together as his chest heaved up and down in anger.
“Then maybe this fucking relationship was a mistake huh? If you’re sooo unhappy then leave me the fuck alone.” He rolled his eyes at your words, not taking them seriously enough for consideration. He thought that you both needed to calm down before you ended up ripping each other's heads apart.
“You don’t even make sense anymore, we need some space from each other.” Without another word, he opened the door to the restroom and closed it behind him. He closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself down before he heard your voice shakily yell back at him.
“Fine then, if that’s what you want then you’ll get it.” He hesitated before turning the water on, stepping out from the rest of his clothes. He heard rustling from your shared bedroom but assumed you were getting ready for bed.
You were engulfed in a whirlwind of anger and sorrow. The echoes of your argument replayed in your mind in a loop, each word bringing you to silent tears. As you thought back on the heated exchange, it became painfully clear to you what he had been feeling all along—his frustration, his hurt, and the unspoken words that had lingered between you like a thick fog. The realization settled heavily in your chest, a weight that made it hard to breathe.
With trembling hands, you rose to your feet, the urgency of the moment making you jump into action. You stumbled toward the corner of the room, where the suitcase lay hidden beneath the bed. You began hastily packing your clothes, shoving items into the suitcase without much thought—shirts, skirts, a favorite sweater that still carried his scent. Each piece felt like a memory you were trying to escape, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to leave it behind entirely.
The oppressive atmosphere of the room, filled with memories of the two of you, felt unbearable. The walls seemed to close in around you, suffocating in memories. You could almost hear the laughter that once echoed through the space, the quiet moments of intimacy that had turned into silence. You knew he would soon emerge from the shower, and with urgency, you finished gathering your things, your heart racing as you zipped the suitcase shut. You took one last look around the room, a bittersweet end to a life you had built together, and headed for the door.
As you descended the stairs, each step felt like a countdown, the sound of the water stopping above you signaling that he was wrapping up his shower. You could almost picture him, the steam rising around him, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing just outside the bathroom door. Your heart ached at the thought of leaving him, but the need to escape was overpowering.
Your gaze fell upon the ring you once wore with pride, a symbol of love and commitment that now felt like a shackle. A pang of realization hit you, reminding you that it no longer belonged on your finger. It was made out of a promise that had been broken. With a heavy heart, you carefully removed the gleaming ring, feeling its weight shift from your finger to your palm, as if it were a piece of your former self. The cool metal felt foreign against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the memories it held. You placed it gently on the coffee table, the soft thud echoing in the eerily silent apartment.
With one last glance at the ring, you turned away, the weight of your decision settling heavily on your shoulders. You quietly stepped out of the eerily silent apartment, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that echoed in your mind. The world outside felt vast and uncharted, a stark contrast to the confines of the life you were leaving behind. As you walked away, each step felt like your heart was breaking more.
Before you knew it, you stood in front of your mother's house ringing the doorbell. After a quiet moment, she opened the door with tired eyes. Once she took in your appearance she cooed at you as you moved into her embrace. You trembled in her arms as she shushed you quietly, rocking the both of you back and forth.
“Mom, can I stay here for a while?” You asked after you calmed down, breaking away from the hug. She quickly noticed the absence of your missing ring and nodded firmly, taking you inside to the house you once called home.
Jun-ho was anxious when he didn’t see you lying down in the bed, the apartment being dead silent as his fatigue began to catch up to him. Against his better judgment, he assumed you fell asleep downstairs on the couch, something you had done frequently since he came back from the hospital. There were days when you’d wait for him to come home late into the night, falling asleep before he’d make it back.
He knew he had to apologize to him for his cruel words, knowing he let his anger out on someone he knew deserved the most for dealing with him and his trauma. Jun-ho knew he was way out of your league, and deserved someone who didn’t have baggage. When he met you he let himself be selfish and chased after you until you grew to like him like how he was infatuated with him. He began to slip into a deep sleep dreaming of the beginning of your relationship unbeknownst to your growing absence.
When he spotted the ring glinting on the coffee table as he walked by that morning, he came to a sudden halt. The sunlight streaming through the window caused the ring to shine brightly, sending tiny rainbows dancing across the room. It was as if he was hallucinating everything that happened—the argument from the night before, the dazzling ring that left him almost gasping to breathe; everything felt surreal.
He was already almost late for woke and he quickly jumped into his car, the engine roaring to life as he began to drive. He fumbled for his phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed your number, each ring increasing his anxiety. After seven attempts, each one met with the same beep, he felt a knot of desperation tighten in his chest. Just as he was about to give up hope, he pressed the call button one last time.
On the eighth call, he finally heard your voice, and a wave of relief washed over him. He could feel the tension in his shoulders begin to ease, but the urgency in his heart remained.
“Hello?” you answered, your tone a mix of disdain and exhaustion, the sun was barely out and he knew you didn’t enter work until later in the morning. He winced as he began to sputter out a string of words.
“I’m sorry, you need to come back and let me apologize properly. Shit, I was having a bad day and took it out on you.” He blurted out, his words tumbling over one another in his haste. “We need to talk.”
As he listened to you sigh exasperated, halting him from speaking, he gripped the ring that felt heavy in his palm. It belonged on your finger; its only purpose was to show how much he loved you.
“Keep it; I told you you’d get what you wanted, after today, you’ll never hear from me again.” You spoke out bluntly; you gave your mom a soft nod as she watched you in concern, your stepmother beside her as she tried listening to the conversation. Your rigid posture was enough to let her know who you were on the phone with.
“ __ , I know you deserve better, but please don’t do this, I want to make things right. I love you.” He pleaded, causing your breath to get caught in your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes and your heart felt heavy as you spoke up once more.
“You were so fucking mean, you’ve pushed me away so many times that I can’t deal with it anymore. We’re not meant for each other, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the person you opened up to.” You quickly hung up the phone, leaving him gripping the steering wheel in silence. You tucked your knees to your chest as your parents ran by your side, comforting you in your childhood home. You didn’t want to fight anymore; you knew you needed to let go of him. If he didn’t want your help, then there was no future together as husband and wife.
It has been nearly four months since your breakup with Jun-ho, and you still find it hard to move on. Your finger felt bare without your engagement ring on your finger, a constant reminder of the future you had left along with him. You remember the way he would slip the ring onto your finger, his eyes sparkling with love and hope, and now that memory feels like a cruel joke.
When you shared the news of your breakup with friends and extended family, their reactions were filled with disbelief; no one saw it coming, especially given the deep respect and love you both had for one another. They had always admired the way you complemented each other and how effortlessly you looked together as a couple. The shock on their faces only deepened how much you regretted everything, mourning the end of a relationship but also the dreams that you had for your future. Their attempts to console you felt hollow; you knew they didn’t truly understand how you felt.
Initially, Jun-ho tried to reach out and make things right, sending flowers to your workplace, each bouquet more extravagant than the last. He left them with a colleague who seemed to find his gestures amusing, often teasing you about how romantic he was being. But the flowers now felt like a burden, a reminder of what you had lost. His messages and calls became a relentless tide, crashing against the walls you were trying to build around your heart. You felt overwhelmed, suffocated by his attempts to reconnect, prompting you to silence his number, to create a barrier between you and the pain of his absence.
Yet, despite everything, you hesitated to block him completely. A small part of you clung to the hope that he might need you in case of an emergency, that perhaps he would reach out and you would be there to support him as you always had. It was conflicting, torn between the desire to protect your heart and the instinct to be there for someone you still loved so deeply. The thought of completely severing ties felt like a betrayal, to the promises you’ve made to him.
Then, three weeks ago, he stopped. Your mother, sensing your distress, tried to comfort you with her gentle words, suggesting that he was simply respecting the space you both needed to process everything.
Guilt washed over you like a tide, pulling you under. You felt guilty for wanting him to continue pursuing you, even after you had decided to end things. It was a confusing mix of emotions—longing for his attention while wanting to honor the choice you had made. You had thought that stepping back would bring clarity, but instead, it left you feeling more lost than ever. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart raced with hope, only to sink when it was just a notification from work or a reminder of an upcoming event.
You were brought back to reality when someone tapped on your shoulder. You gave a shaky smile to the woman who beamed up at you. Jun-ho’s mother wrapped you up in a hug, her frail arms tightly squeezing your waist. You returned the gesture and gently encased her in a hug. Once she released, she gave your reddened cheeks a soft pat.
“Look at you, are you sure you’re eating properly?” She questioned with a raised eyebrow, which you giggled at. You didn’t realize how much you missed the short woman until now.
“You know how work gets. I’ve gotten a promotion at work, so I’ve been wrapped up with things there.” You admit, shying away from the woman as she playfully smacked your shoulder. Your eyes wandered past her, worried yet hopeful to see if perhaps her son joined her at the market. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help but wonder how he was. Did he move on already? Has he been eating? Was work still eating him up?
As if she knew who you were looking for, she quickly spoke up.
“He’s at work right now; he’s a traffic cop now and has been busy with that. Told me it wasn’t worth it anymore.” Your body froze as you cast your gaze downward to the floor. You couldn’t believe it; you knew that he loved his job, even with how dangerous it was.
“Y’know, when he told me about the flowers he would leave you at work to try and apologize. I had to yell at the boy for him to realize you needed time. Even with him being my son, I viewed you as my own daughter and I understood you. I hope that you can find it in you to work it out with him. I wanted to see the two of you get married already.” She revealed everything all at once that you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs.
You missed him; you missed the apartment you shared where you would sleep by each other, you missed having late dinners with him as you watched a new show together. Even with the last few months being hard on you both, you realized that you loved him too much to even think of moving on with your life without him by your side.
You tried to talk to talk, opening your mouth and then closing it when nothing came out. She gave you a wink before walking off, wishing to see you soon again. You thought that maybe this was her plan all along, to make you realize how much you deserved to make things right and be happy again with her son.
After going back to your parent's house and letting them know your plans, you quickly earned their approval. They’ve always liked Jun-ho, he was the first boyfriend they liked and did everything perfectly to earn their praise. When he had decided to propose to you, they were ecstatic with him, they loved you dearly and saw him as the only person worthy of you.
With their quick encouragement, you made your way to your once-shared apartment, where some of your things still lay there, frozen in place. As you stand outside the door, debating whether you should back down and turn around, You ring the doorbell before you turn back. It was beginning to get dark out, and you became terrified if you made the right choice. For all you knew, a woman could open the door and laugh in your face.
Then he opened the door.
He stood still, the weariness etched on his face fading as he truly focused on you. The world around him blurred into a distant hum, and in that moment, it felt as if time had paused just for the two of you. Doubts swirled in his mind—was this really happening? Was the love of his life standing before him, looking just as beautiful as the day he lost you? The way your hair caught the light, the sparkle in your eyes, and the gentle curve of your nervous smile all seemed to pull him back to a time when everything felt right.
It took him some time to come to terms with the fact that you deserved to hear the whole truth. He had rehearsed this moment in his mind countless times, each scenario playing out with different outcomes, but none could prepare him for the reality of standing in front of you again. You were meant to be his future wife, and that meant he had to share everything with you—the good, the bad, and the painful truths he had buried deep within himself.
He had been a mess during your time apart, a whirlwind of emotions that left him feeling lost and hollow. Each day was a struggle, filled with the haunting memories of what once was and the crushing weight of regret. He constantly questioned if he would ever get the opportunity to set things right, just as he had intended to do after leaving the hospital. The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, each moment stretching into an eternity as he grappled with the fear that he might never see you again.
But now, standing before you, he felt a flicker of hope igniting within him. The air was thick with unspoken words, and he knew he had to break the silence. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he prepared to lay bare his heart. his voice trembling slightly as he spoke
“You’re here.” He broke the silence between you two, opening the door wider for you. Taking a shallow breath in, you made your way inside, dropping your purse on the very coffee table where you left your ring.
You were unsure how to respond, not knowing where to even start. Did you apologize for leaving him through a phone call? Were you supposed to kneel down and begin crying for forgiveness? Do you yell at him for being so cruel to you that night?
Despite everything that went through your head, your first instinct was to smash your lips against his. The world around you faded into a blur, leaving only the intoxicating warmth of his presence. Almost immediately, his hands encircled your waist, drawing you nearer as he surrendered to the sensation of your delicate fingers entwined in his hair, gripping it with fervor.
A shiver cascaded over your skin, a tingly feeling that coursed through your body, and he responded with a gentle smile that rose up, making your heart race even faster. His hands glided up and down your waist in a tender caress, each movement sending an amount of warmth through you. The two of you remained entwined in that moment, lost in the magic of each other’s embrace, the outside world forgotten.
With a hint of reluctance, you pulled away, your breath mingling in the space between you. You observed as his eyes fluttered open after a brief pause. In that fleeting moment of silence, you allowed yourself to admire his features—the way the light danced in his eyes, the gentle curve of his lips, and the way his hair fell effortlessly across his forehead.
A smile blossomed on both your faces, and you felt an overwhelming sense of joy. Without thinking, you leaned back into him, your lips meeting his once more in a fervent kiss, a kiss that spoke of longing, desire, and the promise of what was yet to come. The world around you faded again, and all that existed was the two of you, lost in a moment of finally having each other after months of being separated.
“I’ve missed you so much, don’t ever let me treat you like I did ever again” He spoke between kisses, lifting you up in his arms, and like muscle memory you wrapped your legs around his waist. You let him led you up the stairs and into the room where you’ve done it several times before, only now the two of you were as desperate as ever. He kissed down your neck, unbuttoning you blouse as you tilted you head back. Less and less clothes appeared on your bodies as you finally let out the stress that had been building up between the two of you.
One year and a half later . . .
A gentle smile graced your lips as you sensed a tender kiss upon your temple. As you opened your eyes, you were met with the warm gaze of your husband, his smile radiating affection like the first light of dawn breaking through the darkness. It was a look that spoke volumes, a silent promise of support and devotion that filled your heart with joy.
He drew you nearer, mindful of your belly that carried his child, a precious life that left the both of you feeling excited. Jun-ho entwined your fingers, his touch gentle yet firm, grounding you in the present moment. His other hand lovingly traced the curve of your abdomen, his fingertips dancing lightly over the skin smiling as he felt his baby.
“Can you feel them?” he whispered, his voice breaking the calm atmosphere.You nodded, a smile breaking across your face as you felt the tiny kicks and movements of your little girl.
Jun-ho’s eyes sparkled with excitement. You could see how excited he was of becoming a dad and you shared the same sentiment .
In that intimate space, time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the life you were creating together. You felt a swell of happiness envelope you as he pressed another kiss into your hair. As you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. You were nervous of becoming a mother, much like how you felt becoming a wife but your parents, Jun-ho, and your mother-in-law all reassured you.
The moment you exchanged vows, a wave of excitement washed over you. The morning had been a flurry of nerves, each heartbeat echoing in anxiety. You had spent hours meticulously preparing, surrounded by the three remarkable women in your life—your parents, and your mother-in-law. They offered words of encouragement, shared knowing smiles, and reminded you of the love that had brought you to this moment.
After months of planning, every detail painstakingly arranged, you were now united with Jun-ho in the bond of marriage. The weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, replaced by a lightness that made you feel as if you were floating.
In that instant, the doubts that had once clouded your mind seemed utterly trivial, like wisps of smoke dissipating in the breeze. You realized how silly it was to question if you and Jun-ho were meant to be. The worries that had plagued you—about the future, about compatibility, about the challenges that lay ahead—faded as you met him at the alter.. Jun-ho had showed how much he loved you, his eyes sparkling with sincerity as he spoke words that your souls were eternally intertwined, destined to find each other again and again, no matter the circumstances.
As you looked into his eyes, you felt a profound connection that transcended time and space. It was as if the universe had knew all along you were meant to be together. With each passing second, the joy of your union blossomed within you, filling your heart with an overwhelming sense of happiness. You didn’t have to wait another life to be together with Jun-ho, because you were meant to be in this one.
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thebramblewood · 3 days ago
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Who knew window shopping could lead to so many revelations?
Previous / Next
All credit to @moonwoodhollow for Exerzierplatz, where you can find the bookstore, and @its-opheliasgarden for Umbra Boulevard, where you can find the antique shop, both of which are only one small part of these incredible builds!
Caleb: You’ve grown awfully comfortable with her.
Helena: First of all, you have no room to judge. [mockingly] Oh, she’s my sister and I loathe her! But I’m too much of a coward to move out.
Caleb: I’ve certainly never uttered those-
Helena: Secondly, being angry is exhausting. Holding an eternal grudge requires too much energy. And she can be fun — in her own way.
Caleb: You mean the way that’s fun until it isn’t? Not long ago, she had you on the verge of murder. Your memory can’t be that short.
Helena: We have our differences. But she respects my limits now.
Caleb: She’s being careful, but I know her too well to believe it’s for anyone’s benefit but her own. She’s only biding her time until you let your guard down.
Helena: God, you’re cynical.
Caleb: I’m realistic. For a long time, I held out hope she would turn back into the Lilith I knew. But there’s a point of no return, and she’s far past it. I just think you should tread carefully.
-
Helena: Why do you really stay? Is she holding something over you? Are you a masochist?
Caleb: I’ve told you. It’s complicated.
Helena: Have you ever even tried to leave?
Caleb: Helena-
Helena: Who’s Morgyn?
Caleb: [uncomfortably abrupt silent]
Helena: I heard that name in your head just now, not for the first time. I didn’t want to pry, but it must be someone who means a lot to you.
Caleb: Meant.
Helena: Did you have a falling out or-
Caleb: [flatly] They’re dead.
Helena: Oh. I’m sorry. [softly] Caleb, were you in love with them?
Caleb: Something like that.
Helena: What happened? Don’t tell me Lilith-
Caleb: [insistently] It had nothing to do with her. They were a spellcaster, a very powerful one. They wielded influence. They had detractors. One of those detractors killed them.
Helena: Oh my god. That’s awful. Could you tell me what they were like sometime — when you’re ready?
Caleb: [faintly] I wouldn’t even know where to begin.
Helena: Caleb, look! I haven’t used one of these since I was a kid. Do you think they’ve got film for it?
-
Caleb: Come on. Don’t waste it on a picture that won’t even turn out.
Helena: What’s the deal with that anyway? I saw something about silver online, but-
Caleb: Anything you read on the Internet is conjecture and myth.
Helena: Is it because we don’t have souls?
Caleb: [bemused] What does that even mean? Do you feel as though you’ve lost yours?
Helena: Yes. No. I don’t know. I guess I feel the same… mostly.
Caleb: Countess Flores has a theory that we innately shroud our physical selves in images, just as we veil human minds, that we could appear if we willed it. But that remains pure hypothesis as far as I know.
Helena: I think I’ve attempted enough desperate selfies to safely debunk that one. You know, I wonder… [trails off distractedly]
Caleb: Helena?
Helena: Maybe it’s not such a bad thing. I used to want to capture every moment, but now the pictures make it impossible to forget.
Caleb: We both know it’s not the pictures that keep the memories alive.
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sayyestoheav3nn · 1 day ago
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Nights Like This Short: Three Little Words
Roman x black!oc 
Warnings: fluff, suggestive content 
Word count: 1.2k
a/n: going to start working on part six of ‘nights like this’ tonight. but in the meantime, i lowkey had the urge to write a little fluff lol. why do i feel like y’all are lowkey going to hate this man even more now lmaoo 🙃 click here to be added to my tag list 🤍
Roman’s backyard was filled with his family’s laughter and chatter. There was no denying that he enjoyed when they came to visit, however, there was just so fucking many of them it didn’t take much to become a slightly overstimulating event. 
He took a deep breath, letting the warm sun along with the calm ocean breeze relax him. 
As his family mingled, he couldn’t help but to grin at the sight of his two five year old nieces latched on to Zoe as if they’d known her a lifetime. Since the moment she introduced herself to them, the tiny gremlins hadn't left her side. 
Roman’s mom seemingly came out of nowhere and stood beside him, she smiled as her gaze shifted to the scene her son’s eyes were very much glued to.  
Her heart beamed as she watched Zoe play tag with her granddaughters, “She’s a lovely girl, Roman. I’m looking forward to seeing your own little ones running around here one day…” she teased. 
Roman smiled to himself, staying quiet as he took a sip of his beer. Truth be told, it had been a subject in the back of his mind for a while now. There were so many nights he’d lay awake thinking about their future, while Zoe peacefully slept on his chest.
For years one of his biggest fears was getting one of his fuck buddies pregnant. 
This was the reason his rotation consisted mainly of women on the WWE roster, they made it clear the last thing they wanted was to get knocked up at the height of their careers. Which worked out for him perfectly, because the thought of having a kid with someone he felt absolutely nothing for, scared him shitless.
That was until Zoe came into his life.
From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was different. And in getting to know her, seeing her for who she really was, Roman knew there was absolutely nothing in this world he wanted to experience without her.
Roman’s mom studied him, because as good as he thinks he is when it comes to hiding his emotions, she easily sees right through him. “You love her, don’t you son?”
He’d never been more sure of anything in his fucking life, “With all my heart.”
“Then what’s stopping you from telling her?”
Roman looked down, his gaze focused on the grass. “I just…just don’t want her to think it’s too soon.” 
“Sweetie, look at her.” His focus was now redirected back to Zoe, her beautiful smile radiating as she was immersed in a conversation with Naomi, and his sister Mariana. 
“Zoe has been surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces in the span of a day, I’m sure that must be an overwhelming experience for her. Yet, she’s selfless, giving each and every one of us a glimpse of who she is, while still wanting to learn more about our culture and who you are.”
“If that’s not love…I don’t know what is,” she continued.
Roman stayed silent, while giving his mom a hug. He started making his way towards Zoe, but unfortunately didn’t make it very far, due to Jey and Jimmy stopping him to help make a damn bonfire.
They spent over twenty minutes setting it up, the task was slightly more difficult considering it was brand new and Roman had never used it before.
Once he was finally left to himself he made his way back in the house after noticing Zoe was no longer outdoors. Mariana couldn’t help but to laugh seeing her brothers eyes dart around the room trying to find her.
“Look at ‘Mr no strings attached’, finally introducing us to a girl. I honestly never thought I’d see the day.”
Roman rolled his eyes, “Shut up. Where is she?”
“She’s in the office,” Mariana walked in front of him, blocking his path. “I know you aren’t used to actually being emotionally connected with someone, but please don’t fuck this up Ro. Women like her, can’t be replaced,” she muttered.
“I know,” he sighed. Although his sister tends to annoy the hell out of him, he knows she means well. Her words lingered on his mind for a moment, Zoe's past experience with her ex was something he was always mindful of. Hearing what he put her through, was something he never wanted her to go through again.
She stepped aside as he headed for the office. Roman reached for the door, and carefully twisted the doorknob, “Hey, was wondering where you were.”
Zoe looked back at him, a smile tugged the corner of her lips. “Sorry, I wanted to make the girls a cute little bow for their hair.”
“Damn, they already got you wrapped around their little fingers huh,” he smiled.
“Something like that,” she chuckled.
There was a small sense of nervousness gnawing at him, deep down he wondered if telling her would scare her off. He knew this was a big step, and wholeheartedly understood the weight that comes with those three words. 
But there was absolutely no denying what he feels for her, she means absolutely everything to him. And whether she feels the same or not, he needs her to know.
Roman walked behind her as she stood cutting small pieces of fabric. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist pulling her closely to his chest, his head made his way into the crook of her neck, “I love you, Zoe.”
She paused slowly turning around to face him, tears brimmed in her eyes as she used both her hands to grab his face. There was a brief period of silence, as she looked into his eyes.
“I love you too baby.”
Roman smiled before pressing his lips into hers, Zoe stood on her tiptoes, attempting to slide her arms around his neck. He chuckled and picked her up, hoisting her on his waist. 
Their kiss deepened as Roman slowly began to inch up her dress.
“Roman not now.. your family is here,” she giggled.
“So what?” He sat her down on the table and slid his hands to the warm spot between her legs. Zoe’s mouth instantly parted as Roman’s fingers worked past the fabric of her underwear, teasing her already slick folds. “Let them entertain themselves for a bit, while daddy takes care of you.”
“Fuck...” Roman’s dick was rock hard as he watched her slide down her underwear and slowly spread her legs apart. Roman licked his lips, his mouth practically salivating at just the thought of tasting her sweet pussy. Just as he was about to get in position to feast on the woman he loved, a loud ass knock on the door interrupted them.
“One second,” Zoe scrambled to get off the desk and fix her dress, she was relieved Roman made the choice of locking the door.
“It’s Mariana, sorry the girls wanted me to ask if you wanted to join us for a swim?”
“Of course! I’ll meet you guys in a minute.”
Zoe turned to Roman as she slid her underwear back on. “You coming?”
His jaw clenched as he sighed, “I need a minute.” Zoe glanced down immediately understanding why. Roman’s huge bulge was damn near bursting at the seams.
“Shit, I’m sorry baby,” she kissed his cheek and discreetly stepped out of the room.
There was no doubt they were going to make up for it. 
All fucking night, that was for damn sure.
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nugatorysheep · 1 day ago
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What your favorite SU character says about you but it's just mean as fuck
Steven — How is being a mentally ill, people-pleasing queer going for you? Did your mommy issues and anxiety resolve themselves yet or are you still avoiding therapy?
You either disliked or were neutral about him until he got a neck. You think Future is peak cinema (correct) and can't understand why everyone else hates it. You have a better grasp on this show's characters and themes than most of the people who watched it.
Connie — You were likely the gifted kid in school but a total burn-out now. You either see a lot of yourself in this character (How are those helicopter parents of yours doing? Have you gone no-contact yet?) or you're a normie and boring to sandbox with. Probably both.
You've got a lot of Feelings™️about her and if people don't agree it causes Problems™️. In case no one has told you yet, stop caring what other people think. Your constant virtue signaling to appeal to other normies is a crutch that's just holding you back. It's okay to have fun!!
Stevonnie — You want to fuck this character, though you'd never say that out loud. You like Steven and Connie; maybe you like one more than the other, but you like both at least a little. If you're using them for shipping you're the only person in the entire fandom doing whatever hyper-specific ship you've latched onto.
Rose and or Pink — You really suck as a person! Or you used to suck but you've gotten a lot better and we stan! If you're the former you almost certainly have terrible takes on this show (but not in the way people might think), sorry, I don’t make the rules. Either way, you gotta stop finding ways to bring her back, dawg. She's gone.
Greg — You're a man (positive) and gay as hell. Gentleman on the streets and a fucking freak in the sheets. We stan. Pop off king <3
Garnet — If you headcanon her as acespec she is not actually your favorite, Ruby and Sapphire are your favorite, but you like them both equally so you just say you like Garnet. If you headcanon her as anything else you're definitely shipping her with one of the other gems, probably Pearl or Jasper.
Amethyst — Super chill person. Would be in most people's dream blunt rotation. You're a live and let live kinda guy and I respect that, but you also have no hills you'd die on so you're not the first person anyone goes to if they need serious support. You can get away with misinterpreting this character (on purpose or accidentally) because it's hard to say things about her that most people won't just shrug at and go "yeah that sounds right I guess"
Pearl — You're annoying as hell. You see yourself in this character and that's not a good thing. Your social media presence gives off the same energy as every white woman's Instagram profile. If being a victim was a contest you'd take home the gold.
You think everyone is out to get you. They're not.
You think you're being persecuted. You're not.
Most people who see you from a distance and don't know better think you're alright, so you're probably pretty well-liked in public. The only people you will get along with in close quarters are all walking mean lesbian stereotypes.
Peridot — You're annoying as hell for a different reason. You see yourself in this character too and that is a terrible, terrible thing.
She's your pfp on every website and app that will allow it. Your lifeblood is this fucking character and e v e r y o n e will know it. You're weirdly possessive of her and the hyper specific headcanons you made for her (even if you don't say that) despite every grass-fearing autistic person on the internet projecting onto her, so ironically you don't like other Peridot fans, which always ends up with you sitting alone even on websites with millions of people on them.
90% chance you're a furry, otherkin, therian or think you have DID. You think you're misunderstood, and in some ways you are, but the reality is most people don't speak dog and don't have the time or energy to learn. You need to go outside and learn to speak cat whether you want to or not
Lapis — You don't like Peridot fans or kinnies, which is weirdly in-character. You're the biggest hater but you don't hide it and I can respect that. You think Lapis is a victim, but you're only half right. You would probably fall for propaganda if it was dressed up fancy enough.
Jasper — You want to fuck this character, full stop. There's a 50/50 chance you're chill af or the most insufferable person on the planet. If you're the former you're friends with a lot of people. You float easily from one group to another, but a jack of all trades is a master of none, and you're no one's first pick if they're looking for someone close. You probably hate Lapis and her fans but you should really just let that shit go ngl
Spinel — You need therapy (derogatory) and you're making that everyone else's problem. Despite the clown aesthetic you're not very funny to be around and you should get a better sense of humor. You project onto this character way too hard and it shows in your fandom habits and headcanons, but most of the time that's fine
Like Spinel, you're a little two-faced. Some people pick up on that right away and some don't. The people who do hold you at arms length until you make it clear which clown you'd rather be. You hate it when people ship Spinel with any character besides your favorite pairing, but you'll never say that out loud unless it's a ship the people you're talking to don't like.
Blue Diamond — You're a man (derogatory) or a minor who doesn't actually understand anything about this character yet, and would immediately fall for any and all forms of propaganda
Yellow Diamond — If you think she is wearing a helmet you're a man (derogatory) and you expected things out of SU that were never gonna happen. If you think it's just hair you have a much better grasp on this character than 90% percent of SU's fandom and I'm platonically kissing you on the mouth.
White Diamond — You're a man (derogatory) or an incredibly based and sexy queer.
The Zircons — You like Ace Attorney, or would like it if you haven't played it yet. You're making them kiss sloppy style. UwU
Lars — You probably didn't like him until after he died. You will defend this boy with your fucking life. Also you should just…. go watch Star Trek if you haven't. Seriously what are you doing—
Sadie — You're an oddball. Very lax though. You have complicated feelings about Shep
Peedee — You're a little quirky, a little freaky, but you're too scared to just say that. You desperately need some fun in your life, but the people around you make that difficult. Eventually you'll find the folks that are worth hanging around. See you on the flip side :)
Ronaldo — You're the type of person this character is based on and you take it in stride. If you're shipping him with Lars, you're the only person who's opinion on this character matters.
Kevin — I dunno who hurt you but you have a terrible taste in men. You only have fun in bed if it involves a damn near human rights violation
Mayor Dewey — You're normalbirb
Any other townie — This is a trick question! No one has these as their favorite lmao
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wolls-angel · 2 days ago
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୨୧ ‧₊˚ what took so long? - j. woll ˚₊‧ ୨୧
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pairing: j. woll x fem!reader summary: After almost 20 years of pining, it finally happens... request: in desperate need of jo woll childhood best friends to lovers. like i’m talking best friends since birth, and then admit they’re in love with each other at age 26. biggest slow burn ever 😫 word count: 1.6k warning(s):fluff, cheating (not between joe and reader), not much dialogue, longer than normal, not proof read notes: i have a love hate relationship with this fic. joe is so cute in it so i like it more. lmk what you think. i hope you love it !! xoxo
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Everyone knows Joseph Woll as a hockey superstar. Young guy with his whole hockey career ahead of him. One of the most promising young goalies in the NHL. It's true. He is all of that. But to you, he's Joey.
You met Joe when you moved into your grandparents house. You were 8. Joe was the son of your grandmother's cleaning lady and she was eager to introduce the two of you. "It's nice when you have someone you know in a new situation," you remember her saying.
It was summer, so Shelley invited you over to her house to meet Joe and her other kids, Michael and Emma. You were sold when she said they had a swimming pool.
A few days later, she picked you up with Joe and Emma in the car and drove you to the Dunkin' near Joe's house. At this point, you and Joe had only exchanged one word. You both ordered the same thing (a lemonade) and your remember looking over at him and smiling. It was the first time you saw his face in full and, even at eight years old, you could tell it would be the end of you.
Your friendship only grew as you went to school together for years, learning all about each other and you just kept falling for him. You went to all his hockey games, helped him with his English homework, gave him advice about girls (even though he never took it). You watched him grow into a gorgeous, 6'4, kind, compassionate and respectful man. The man he is today.
As teenagers, you tried confessing your love so many times but your fear always paralysed you before you told him anything. What if he said no? What if he didn't want you? What if it ruined the friendship you had worked so hard to develop? It wasn't a risk you were willing to take.
All the way through high school, Joe never had a girlfriend. He would have a crush here or there but never pursued it. He always made up an excuse as to why he couldn't take a girl out.
"I'm too busy with hockey" was the usual response when they asked about his love life. Then his family would look at you and smile, as if to say "Well, she's right there".
You never dated either. For a much different reason though. You just kept holding out hope. Always thinking maybe that Valentine's day he would ask you. It never happened. And it wasn't even like you couldn't have went out. People were always asking you. It just wasn't Joe.
Joe took you to prom because neither of you had partners to go with. It was his mom's idea but he wasn't upset about it. You wore a beautiful dark red gown and had your hair in an updo, very stylish at the time. Joe knew you wanted the night to be special so he saved up to rent a limo. You told him he didn't have to but he insisted.
"It's the least I can do. You're going to the prom with me."
Joe also took you to the NHL draft with him in 2016. You remember the look on his face like it was yesterday. It was exactly where he wanted to be. An NHL prospect.
The next few years were hard. You went off to university in New York City while Joe went to train with the Toronto Maple Leafs. You would visit each other as often as you could. You'd go up for reading week. He'd come down for Spring Break. Things like that.
Summer was really the only time you would both spend time in your hometown. You would go boating with Joe, babysit his little sister, go to a party or a bar. It was nice. It felt like in the midst of all this change, there was something normal.
Then, in your third year at NYU, you met Charlie. He was kind, tall handsome and a pre med major. You met him at a cafe near campus, where you were both studying for midterms. He asked you out and you realized it was kinda embarrassing to keep waiting for Joe when he lived so far. He probably had a girlfriend. He just didn't care enough to tell you.
Charlie took you out one Friday after your lecture and swept you off your feet. He was a true gentleman. And you were happy. You called Joe a few days after you and Charlie made it official to tell him the good news.
"Oh... wow, Y/N, that's... amazing. I'm so happy for you," is all he said.
You were too happy to question Joe's sad tone or his hesitation in congratulating you. You were too happy. Your relationship with Charlie only lasted 3 months though.
You had made plans to meet Charlie at his place after your lecture. You had ended early because you had a headache and wanted to just chill before you went out for your 3 month anniversary dinner. Long story short, you caught him cheating. On your anniversary with some girl from his bio class.
You were heartbroken.
But enough about the past. Let's jump to the present.
Joe's NHL debut. You were so excited to get your mind off the break up and the fact that you needed to find a job after graduation. You just wanted to see Joe and support him. Fittingly, the game was against St. Louis and all of Joe's family and friends came to support him.
The game was amazing. Toronto won 3-2 in overtime, but Joe saved 32 shots. You could tell how proud the rest of the team was during the hug line. Joe didn't know you were there to watch him so after the game, you and his mom left to take you home to surprise him.
Once there you hide behind the couch in the living room. Joe walks in and the whole room explodes with applause and congratulations from his friends and family. You can't hold it in any longer and...
Oof.
You run into Joe at full speed, knocking him off balance.
"Wha-... Y/N?", he says, in complete shock. You giggle into his chest, squeezing him tight, "Hey, Joey. Miss me?". The smile on his face when you look up could have blinded you. Almost immediately, he engulfs you in the biggest hug possible. "Fuck yeah, I missed you," he mumbles, his head buried in your neck. After a second or two he lets go and you two enjoy the party as usual. That is, until right after dinner.
"Y/N, can we chat in the other room?"
You feel a hand grab your wrist. It's Joe. You brow furrows in confusion but you nod and he pulls you hastily into his bedroom. He motions for you to sit on the bed while he closes the door.
"I missed you, Y/N. How's school?" he sits down beside you. "Good. I'm so ready to be done," you respond with a smile. "Maybe when you're done, you can move up here. Be near me again". You giggle, "I'd love that, Joey".
"So, no Charlie today?"
You sigh. Right. Charlie. "Uh, no. We broke up a few weeks ago," you look up at Joe and his eyes soften. "Shit, I'm sorry. Are you ok? What happened?". You feel you eyes well with tears. "He cheated on me. With some girl in his class," you sniffle and lean into Joe, "I was finally happy, you know? Not just waiting".
"Waiting?" he asks, "Waiting for what?"
Shit. You have said too much. You look down at your hands, sitting in your lap, "Nothing, don't worry about it".
"Y/N, tell me," he places his hand on your chin to force you to look up at him, "I have known you for almost 20 years. I can tell when something's wrong".
You look into his eyes and realize maybe it's time you were honest with Joe. What's the worst thing that happens? He says no and things stay the same. Maybe.
You get up and stand in front of Joe who is still sitting on the bed. "I have been waiting my whole entire life to say these words, but I'm scared and I have every reason to be. You are my best friend, Joe, and I don't want stuff to be awkward between us. But I may have had too much beer earlier at the game and I'm a little tipsy so fuck it. I have been waiting for you. To ask me out. To care. To love me the way I have loved you since we met when we were 10 years old. And I have never been sure if you wanted me but I talked to my therapist last week and she asked me what I wanted and all I could think of was you. I want you, Joseph Woll. So if this is the end of our friendship, so be it, but I want you to know that I want you to want me, Joe. It's ok if you don't but," you pause and collapse down onto the bed beside him, face in your hands, "I don't know. I'm so sorry".
There is a few beats of silence before Joe speaks.
"Y/N, baby, what took so long?"
You freeze. Huh? What? Excuse me? You look up at Joe, bewildered, and all he does is smile. And then he leans in and before you know, his lips connect with yours. His lips are oddly soft and all you can smell is his cologne. You let yourself melt into him and he feels like home. Where you were always meant to be. Suddenly, Joe whispers into the kiss, "I want you too, Y/N. I really do".
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divinecatchaos · 2 days ago
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I know a knight when I see one. This one was hobbling along using their long sword like a cane. Half their helmet had been torn off, but you couldn’t see a face under all the blood dripping down. Their metal boots grated against the pavement.
I looked around, but no one else was on the street. It wasn’t a busy road in a very un-busy town, so this was unsurprising. Not a single nose pressed to a window all the way down the road. Dark windows, a half-overcast sky.
A horrendous clatter wrenched my eyes back to the impossibility.
They had fallen on their face. One hand still clutched the crossguard of the sword. The other scrabbled at the sharp and ragged edges of their helmet until it came off and spun away across the pavement, clanking and rasping as it went.
I stifled a nervous laugh, then skittered over. I was afraid, but also this was clearly a human person having a medical emergency. I crouched in front of them.
“Hey, hey, do you need me to call 911?”
They were scraping their way to all fours when the sound of my voice made them pause. They dragged gloved fingers through the blood over their eyes and squinted at me as from a great distance.
“Hullo there. Huzzah. Hey. Hey. Hey kid, you ever do anything brave?”
“What? I think I need to call an ambulance, let me just—”
I groped at my pocket for my phone and their bloodied hand lashed out and clamped like a manacle around my wrist.
I hunched up and froze, staring at them.
“I asked you. Did you ever. Do anything. Brave. Kid.”
I’m not a kid, I didn’t say, because thirty-year-olds didn’t usually need to point this out. Clearly they were concussed. Instead I said, as calmly as I could manage, “Not really. I’m not a particularly brave kind of person.”
“You never… stood up… for something you believed in?”
“I may have given a coworker some mild pushback when he said something racist once.”
They blinked through a fresh flow of blow from somewhere in their dark and matted hairline. “Good enough then,” they decided.
With a terrible scrape they surged to their feet. I reared back in startlement, flopping onto my butt as they lifted that long and dreadful sword and pointed it at me. I froze.
“Get on your knees.” They said. The empty street stretched silent and eerie ahead and behind.
Shaking I rolled over onto all fours, then wobbled around to face them, and sat back on my knees, bad knee screaming at the abuse. I mentally told my bad knee to shut up and I’d apologize with a hot towel later if we survived this.
They lifted the sword a little, hand and blade shaking with the effort, then as I hunched in on myself they thumped me with the flat on the left shoulder, then, straining, they lifted the blade over my head and thumped it down on the right shoulder. The edge dug in a bit this time, but I was too terrified to make a sound.
“I now pronounce you… a knight… of the order of the sparrow… may these blows… stand in symbol… of the blows… you will suffer… in your calling… Arise, Sir… what’s your name?”
I couldn’t speak.
“Arise Sir Silence then.” They grounded the tip of the sword and leaned heavily on it. “Well go on then, get up.
I struggled up, knee wavering.
Then they were in my face again, smelling of blood, wrapping my trembling hands around the hilt of the sword.
“May your service be more fruitful than mine… comrade.”
They slumped, forehead thumping briefly against my shoulder, but before I could drop the sword and try to catch the edifice of armor toppling toward me, they dissolved into smoke and ashes, staining my clothes and making me cough into the frosty autumn air, icy fingers clenched around the still-warm leather grip on the iron hilt.
knights can be created by other knights like vampires except instead of biting them they wack them on the shoulders with swords
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heaven-s-black-box · 2 days ago
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Notes- Blabber Mouth Cryo Men
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Recovery date: February 3rd, 2025
Description: A Cryo version of Blabber Mouth, including Capitano
Notes: CW Wrio and Kaeya's parental fears, accidental pregnancies Reader can carry children but no pronouns are used.
Hydro Dendro Cryo Pyro Anemo Electro Geo
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Wriothesley
He’d considered having kids before meeting you, but it was always accompanied by a bit of a crisis
When you sit down to talk about having kids, it is also accompanied by a crisis
Eventually, he decides he wants a kid and that he can do that as long as you’re by his side
There’s a lot of worrying, and a lot of work to be done but in the end it’s fine
He holds your first born and the world is perfect, he doesn’t think it could get anymore perfect
Sigewinne and you are the first to know, you go to her the second you have an inkling because if you are pregnant there is a lot of planning to be done
You and Wriothesley had been talking about moving to the surface more permanently, and if you were pregnant again that might affect those plans
You get home, planning to tell Wrio that night and your kid runs up to you and plants a kiss on your stomach
Wrio laughs as he comes over and wraps his arms around you, telling you that your kid had told him
You’re flabbergasted because you just found out
They’d been reading a kids book about babies and your kid had made the connection
Wrio hold you and your first born close that night, thank you for your perfect little life
You do end up getting a place in the city near the fortress so that Wrio can come home more frequently
Kaeya
Always thought he never wanted kids
Thought he didn’t deserve them after what happened between him and Diluc
But you changed his mind, and because of that he’s the one to bring up having kids
He tries to mend his relationship with Diluc too, offering him the role of godfather for your first born
He’s perfectly fine with one, it’s a learning experience that he wants to take his time with
But sometimes he remembers what it was like growing up with Diluc, and he suggests you two… don’t not try?
You laugh at his wording but agree
It takes a while, but one day Kaeya and your kid come home with two stuffed animals
Kaeya has this smug look on his face as your kid gives you one of them
You ask if it’s a gift for you, rhetorically, and your kid says it’s for the baby
You short circuit and Kaeya just laughs, urging your kid to go put their new plushy away
He wraps his arms around you and ask if you really didn’t know
You’re both super happy, and so is your first born
Capitano/Thrain
Pre-the fall of Khaenri’ah because post he’s too busy to even consider kids… also trauma
He’s hesitant to have kids, he wants them but his service to the people is important to him
You getting pregnant with your first is an accident
But he wouldn’t do anything different, except maybe being there for the birth
There is a conversation about having another as your first born gets older, he doesn’t leave on missions as often but when he does it’s for longer periods of time
It’s one of the rare short missions when you find out you’re pregnant with your second
And, you’re a little worried when you find out because he’d just left and you didn’t know when he’d be back
So you keep it to yourself, but your kid likes laying their head on your stomach more which you assume is because they can sense your worry
He comes home to find you cuddled up on the couch reading your kid a book
And your kid, half asleep says something about dad being home and it’s clearly not directed at you guys
He’s kind of caught off guard and you tell him you just found out
This time, he has the power to take shorter missions and stay with you as your due date approaches
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alieinthemorning · 3 days ago
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Familiar Warmth [Caleb]
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Content: Touch-Starved, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Caleb, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Reader-Insert
Pronouns: None
Note: I see Caleb within the childhood friend trope. Anything outside of that makes me uncomfortable, so I won’t be engaging with it in any sort of way.
Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!
This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries
Wanna support me? Here’s my Ko-Fi!
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It was raining tonight. Although it sounded far off despite the curtains being open, letting in the blurry moonlight. He focused on the pitter-patter of rain, he focused on his breathing, his heartbeat…
And yours. 
He was at your house, an occurrence that was somehow both rare and frequent. Anytime he had a break from being the colonel, he sought you out. He needed to be around you. You drowned out the darkness, the voices, all of it. It left him with just you and him, and that’s all he needed. 
When the rain started, you pulled him up from the couch and dragged him to your bedroom. He was very confused at first. Especially when you stripped down to your undergarments (and told him to follow suit), but then you lied down and gestured for him to join you and he understood. He went to lie beside you, but you gently tugged his arm closer to you. He confusedly maneuvered himself on top of you, resting his head on your chest. Then your hands made their way into his hair, and he melted. 
How long had it been since you’d done this for him? Over a decade. It felt even longer after his death and year separation from you. Even after all this time, however, your fingers were still gentle, and you still hummed that same tune. 
On one hand, it made him feel like a kid again, but on the other…he felt special. Like this was just for him, you’d never do this for anyone else….well, maybe someone else…someone who looked a little bit like you and a little bit like him—
“You’re thinking pretty hard, Cap’.” Your comment pulled him out of his thoughts. “Wanna talk about it?”
He flushed. He definitely didn’t want to tell you about his white picket fence dream. At least not now, not while he was deep in your bliss. If that made him selfish, so be it. 
“Should I start guessing?” 
Eyes reminiscent of sugilite flashed open met your closed ones. There was a soft smile gracing your features with the moonlight from the open curtains of your window haloing you.
You were beautiful.
He shifted his head so that his chin was resting on your chest now. “Nah, you’re just imagining things.”
“Yeah, sure. You’re definitely not thinking about the future right now.” You chuckled. “When you think about the past, you start running your mouth, but when you think about the future…you get real quiet…”
He froze. 
You were entirely too perceptive for your own good. 
And his silence was a loud confirmation.
He quietly cursed himself. It had taken a while, and a lot of apologies, but he had finally gained some semblance of trust with you again. And now here he was, thinking useless things. Especially since the last time he talked about the future to you, it was in a frantic haze where he said he’d lock you up in a maze where no one could find you. He hated himself for saying that. For scaring you. 
He pulled away from you, showing you his back as he sat on the edge of the bed. He wanted to leave, to shut you out and act like nothing was wrong. However, you had followed him, and the warmth of your hand was already bleeding into his back. He swore he could even feel it in his mechanical arm. 
“Talk to me.”
His eyes slid close as his body leaned forward. His elbows on his knees, and head in his hands. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and your body pressed against his. 
“I keep thinking about…our future together. Which I know isn’t right because it’s not a given that I’m even in a future with you. I mean—I just barely regained a fraction of your trust, but—” His fumbled words became a sigh. “Ah…I feel a pervert”
“How so?”
“I…I keep thinking about kids…our kids.”He sighed roughly in an attempt to keep some deeper feelings from breaching the surface. “I know I shouldn’t. Especially after what I said to you. Having a kid by me would probably feel the same to you. You’d feel trapped—trapped to me, and I shouldn’t do that to you and—”
“Do think our kids would have your eyes or mine? Honestly, I’d want each of them to look like a good mix of the both of us, but if I had to choose, I’d choose your eye color.”
“Huh?” He asked dumbly. 
“What if they had an eye color each? I think that’d look good too.”
What were you saying?
Were you really fantasizing about the two of your future children right now?
And you weren’t admonishing him for having thoughts like these either? 
You had thought about it yourself?
“Am I dreaming?” He murmured, not meaning to say that out loud. 
“Nope.” You pulled away from him for a moment, making your way into his lap. “You may have lost my trust before, but you’re slowly gaining it back. And plus,” You paused, gently brushing your palm against his cheek. “You’re my forever co-pilot, Caleb.”
He chuckled, hands slotting against your waist. “Co-pilot. Who’s the one with the credentials?”
“I’m the pilot in my life, just as you are in yours.” You smiled at him. “We’re both each other’s co-pilots.”
“Maybe I should make it official…?” He asked, unable to hide the timid hopefulness as he brought up a hand to tap your left ring finger. 
You laughed. “I’ll give you the signal, Cap’in.” Then your gaze turned soft as you gathered his face in your hands. “I love you, Caleb. I always have.”
That knocked the wind out of him. He couldn’t have stopped the tears if he tried. They were sudden and unrelenting as they flooded from his tear ducts, down his checks, in between your fingers and down your wrists. 
Despite this, he smiled. 
“Thank you for loving me all this time, pip-squeak.”
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:) This was just supposed to be fluff. I ended up making a man cry. AGAIN
CALL THAT ON BRAND
Ko-Fi | Masterlist
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suzukiblu · 1 day ago
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Day four of February’s first weekly WIP behind the cut; “the puzzle trap sex-room”. content warnings: past grooming, past sexual abuse, past statutory rape, past dubious consent, CURRENT unhealthy coping mechanisms, immediate fallout of sex pollen/death trap-induced sexual coercion, and a POV character who does not understand what the problem with any of that is, he’s FINE, Jesus, lay off already and let him live his life. So uh, you know, just Kon’s … entire pre-YJ dating history, pretty much? Pretty much that, yeah. (( chrono || non-chrono ))
“Let. Go. Of. Me,” Superboy hisses, glaring up at Superman and feeling his TTK twist through every stupid nook and cranny and hidden seam and locked door and piece of tech in this stupid cave, and Superman–Superman– 
Doesn’t. 
Superman just keeps looking at him like–like he’s–like he’s fucking sad or something, like he’s upset, like he’s fucking pitying him over something he literally made the fuck up! There is not a problem here, Superman and Batman literally made up this fucking “problem”, and Robin is not helping! 
“Kid,” Superman starts, and Superboy–and Superboy–
Nobody treats him like a kid until it's fucking convenient for them, so nobody gets to treat him like a kid. 
“That’s not my fucking NAME!” he roars at him, and takes a swing at his face. Superman glances sidelong–glances sidelong to block his fist so he won’t break it on him; so Superman won’t accidentally break it himself. Because that’s what Superman does, when it’s not an actual threat; minimizes the damage. 
Because he thinks that Superboy is actually stupid. 
Like Superboy doesn’t know way more about him than Superman even pretends to wanna know about him. 
Superman’s got a hand up to catch his fist–meaning, Superman isn’t paying attention to his other hand when Superboy snaps his TTK around the bones and muscles and nerves in his hand and wrenches. Superman curses in surprise, visibly startling as he reflexively snaps his hand back, takes a startled step back as he clutches at it, and fucking finally lets fucking go of him and–and– 
And Superboy does not, actually, feel any fucking better at all. 
He can’t even actually run off, he knows, because it’s not like Superman couldn’t catch him before he took a step. He just–he just wanted him to fucking let go, it was–he didn’t–he needed him to let go and Superman wasn’t and he doesn’t even fucking care if he hurt him, if he–if he– 
“You don’t know fucking anything about my fucking life!” he snarls at him, and Superman just stares at him for a moment. 
“What was–?” Superman starts, and Superboy does not care. 
“Fucking high and mighty shithead judging who I fuck when you are literally cucking some reporter dude in front of all of Metropolis and like, basically the whole fucking world!” he yells at him, clenching his fists at his sides instead and not giving a fuck when the floor cracks under his feet; when the lockers and showers all fall apart; when the fucking lights rattle. “Literally! Literally the whole fucking world!” 
“Ms. Lane and I are just–” Superman starts to say, because he’s a fucking asshole who never listens to him, and Superboy wants to actually punch him now. 
“I have literally felt you and Mrs. Lane-Kent playing grab-ass as soon as you thought nobody was looking more than once, man, it is not fuckin’ subtle!” he snaps sharply, and Superman . . . pauses. 
“‘Felt’,” he repeats slowly, and Superboy’s just so fucking angry. 
Tana knows he can do that. Even fucking Knockout knew he could do that. She liked that he could do that. 
And he’s definitely told Superman about it before.
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