#her leaving the doctor had me in pieces
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doorstovenus · 8 months ago
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sarah jane smith edit for the soul
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my mum's staying for the weekend pray for me
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5-htagonist · 9 months ago
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i dont know how to connect these pieces together, except for something regarding how the characterization is done, but venture bros, homestuck, utena, house, some others i cant think of rn... something about the way the characters interact and build in these captivates me. the complexities, the almost... impromptu way these characters develop so naturally, and i think it comes from different places in most of these though homestuck and venture bros probably holds the most similarity in terms of expertly utilizing retroactive foreshadowing to create beautiful and complex character relationships. house feels like it moreso... accidentally happens upon great and logical character development lol. i usually wonder if im reading too far into it when i watch particularly great moments. and utena's characters feel so 3d because they really are-- the sheer amount of different utena stories that adds and expands and also contracts on different aspects of each character ends up building a very 3d and symbolic picture in the mind.
#house might kind of seem like a curveball in this but theres something about the way the characters interact and#progress and regress and progress again that is evocative of these other pieces#i need to know why house is so good i know its not david shore because the good doctor fucking blows#the worst part of that is mr. the good doctor is like. the best written character in the show. if that tells you how dog shit it is#theres an episode where he runs away from his apartment because his (reasonably of course!!1!) coddling father figure keeps trying to push#him to go to therapy but mr good doctor can be normal and do it on his own you see. and good doctor gets frustrated at his wants being#ignored and hits father figure and then is upset that he did that (actually relatable)#and he goes to girl next door (who he does like but she doesnt seem to Know that and shes really pushy! and weird tbh!) and she convinces#him to go out drinking#(his first time drinking he went w his coworkers and had a poor experience and he remembers that and is apprehensive)#but they go out and after she convinces him (pushing over and over) he go crazy and they do many a shots and he is a lightweight of course#and shes drunk but she can handle her alcohol#the good doctor is Drunk not incapacitated but very off balance#and she goes Ok this is what you do at the end of the date if she goes right inside you say goodnight and leave but if she lingers you kiss#her. kiss her. kiss me. well???#idr it exactly but like#it was just odd.#like. its not necessarily bad that happened#but it was just okay narratively#like it was supposed to be a cute moment where they bond#but to me it looked like someone went and got their romantic interest drunk to get a kiss the interest might not have been ready for#idk#you know when they say if the genders were opposite
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mickandmusings · 7 months ago
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third times the charm
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pairing: tyler owens x f!reader
word count: 3.8k
summary: life has a funny way of putting people in your path, and ultimately making them part of your life. but what happens when the one person you never want to see stumbles in over and over again, a disastrous tornado tearing up your path of moving on?
aka: the two times tyler owens enters and, consequently, leaves, your life at the wrong time, and the one time he comes at the perfect moment and finally stays.
warnings: reader is described in a feminine manner; why are we ignoring his bull rider trope? cause i'm not babes xx; angsty mainly, but fluff too; lovers to enemies back to lovers (sorry); this author knows nothing about tornadoes or weather so sorry
shoutout to megan moroney and her banger new album where this title and idea come from :)
-
i.
"What do you mean you're leaving?!"
Tyler shuts the tailgate of his red pick-up with a loud slam, the cowboy hat on his head nearly flying off with the force. Y/N stood just a few feet away, her arms crossed over her torso as her chest heaved in short, shaking breaths. The sunlight hits her just right, and the gold chain around her neck glimmers in the sunlight. It catches Tyler's attention from the corner of his eye-it had been burned into his mind from the moment he'd bought it with a chunk of his earnings from last year's rodeo. The chain was delicate, simple, but the charm had been the main appeal: it was gold, the same shade as the chain, but in the center of the small heart shaped pendant sat a capital 'T'. She'd worn it since he'd given it to her for a birthday present, and it had been the center piece of even their most intimate moments-her bare beneath him with only the glittering jewelry adorning her as he had her unraveling under his touch. Even the thought of it had heat traveling up Tyler's neck, and he swallowed down the feeling, along with all of the guilt bubbling to the surface.
"I'm leavin', simple as that."
"Ty, I-I don't understand. You get bucked off one time and you're giving up?! You've been riding since we were kids, I-"
He turns to her, emerald eyes blazing with an emotion he couldn't put a label on.
"I didn't just get 'bucked off', I almost got my head trampled in case you forgot!" His voice is laced with anger. He's not angry with her, he's angry with himself. After a series of unfortunate injuries in last month's local rodeo, Tyler knew he couldn't ride again, it would kill him. He'd spent the last few weeks in physical therapy and doctor's offices just to make sure the damn bull hadn't left behind more than scars.
It was better this way, he could leave his town behind, and forget about the deep, gut-twisting feeling of failure that sat like acid in his stomach. But leaving his hometown also meant leaving her.
Tyler had fallen for Y/N their junior year of high school, and they'd rarely been seen without one another ever since then. She was sweet and shy to his brash and confident, his biggest supporter-always sitting in the stands for all of his rides-whether he was the talk of the town or stumbling home, his shotgun rider, and the girl who wore his heart (literally and figuratively) on a chain around her neck. Looking at her now, with tears lining under her gorgeous eyes, he wanted to just forget all of his plans and pull her into his arms. He wanted to reassure her that he'd stay here, that he'd give her the life that he'd promised her-apple pie and babies, the perfect picket-fence life she deserved.
"Tyler, you-you can't be serious! W-What about your parents, your plans, hell, Tyler, what about me?!" Her shoulders now moved as she let out shuddering breaths, eyebrows furrowed as she grew frustrated. "Tyler Owens you promised me, you promised me a farmhouse, and a wrap-around porch, a-and babies! And now you're just gonna take off to God-knows-where to what? Storm chase?"
She stops and lets out a dry chuckle. She'd been 'chasing' with him before, vivid memories of him scaring her shitless chasing tornadoes in his truck, only to 'apologize' to her by making love in the backseat after the storm had passed. Through their time together, she, too, had grown to love the storms. Y/N took her camera into the storms with them, more than ready to capture the freakishly beautiful moments of pure disaster before it struck. She'd stand in the pouring rain next to him, laughing as wind whipped hair around her face. He'd snap a picture of her with her own camera that she'd set aside and she'd roll her eyes. They'd been happy, bonded by a mutual love of mother nature's chaos and one another. Now, she turns her back to face him, shaking her head as her bottom lip trembles.
"Ya know, I should've listened to everyone who told me to stay away from you in high school, that you'd just hurt me. I didn't believe them, not one bit, because I know you. You're running because you're scared. You don't have to run, Ty. You've never run from your fears, for God's sake you ride them! What the hell are you thinking?!"
Tears stream down her face, and Tyler feels his resolve slipping. He hadn't thought it through, not really, and now as she stands in front of him, he realizes he's only hurting her more and more. He needed an out, he needed to skip town, no matter who it hurt.
"I'm thinking that I'm a fuckin' failure at everything, no matter what I try! The only thing I'm good at is storms, chasin' them, getting close enough to see something! I fail at everything, Y/N/N, and if I stay, I'll just fail you, too. Over and over."
"Tyler, you've never failed me," she brings her hands to either side of his face, her thumb brushing a cut that still hadn't scarred over from his fall. Her eyes were blurry and her hands trembled. "Please, stay." Her voice was hardly a whisper, pleading desperately.
"You know I can't."
She nodded solemnly, wiping tears so she could take a final look into his eyes. She gave no warning when she launched her arms around his neck, all but hanging onto him like a child. He hugged her tighter than he ever had, and when she let go, he placed a final heated goodbye kiss on her lips. Y/N looks at him, her brain screaming pleas to make him stay, but she simply kisses his cheek before speaking.
"C-call me when you get there?"
He takes one last glance at her, taking her in completely, as if trying to memorize her. His eyes land on the jewelry adorning the spot just below her collarbone, the gold shining in the sunset, knowing he'd never see it on her again-if he ever even saw her again.
"You'll be the first person I call, baby."
Y/N's call never came.
She spent the summer miserable, but refused to take off the gold chain she hid under shirts. It burned her skin in a metaphorical sense, but she ignored it, just like the heartbreak that had festered into deep resentment for Tyler Owens. She'd decided to take off to the local university for a clean start, somewhere new, somewhere his ghost wouldn't haunt her. Things had begun to look up, and she found herself smiling again. The morning before her first day of classes, she almost took the chain off, but couldn't bring herself to do so.
When she spotted his tall figure sitting a row ahead of her in her Intro to Meteorology class, she pretended not to know who he was. It was only fair, he'd done the same to her. For a reason that neither of them could vocalize, they begin to hate one another. Without knowing it, Tyler had become the storm that had sparked her into chasing after danger forever, the one that had left destruction so fatal she wasn't sure if she'd ever recover.
-
ii.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Y/N rolls her eyes and nearly throws her laptop across her dorm room when she looks down at her field partner pairing. The name in bold stares back at her like some sick joke.
Tyler Owens.
She shuts her laptop with a force that could shatter glass and slams her face into her pillow to let out a scream that could have easily been heard four counties over. The universe had to hate her.
With one glance at her watch, she hops from her bed and packs her duffel, her camera slung around her other shoulder. After silently praying that this storm takes her away in one quick swoop, she opens the door to her room and stumbles down the stairs to the lobby, where he was waiting for her outside the double doors. She can already feel her skin flaming with anger when she catches sight of his towering frame, baseball cap thrown backwards over his head.
"'Bout fuckin' time sweetheart, thought the storm would pass before we even got out there!"
"Oh, kiss my ass, Owens."
She rolls her eyes and climbs into the red truck she had once been a permanent fixture in, feeling almost like nothing had changed since the last time she'd crawled into the passenger side. She had half a mind to let down the driver's side visor to see if her picture still sat inside it, but Tyler climbs in the second she thinks about it. The half hour drive is uncomfortable, silent, and laced with tension so thick both halves of the couple begin to wonder if the air supply is getting thin. But as the storm approaches, both of their eyes are locked on the massive twisting figure just ahead of them. Y/N reaches for her camera, focusing the lens as best as she can through the windshield of the truck. She sighs when the view is less than satisfactory. Without much thought, she begins to move the window crank on the door to let down the window.
"What the hell are you doin'?" Tyler's voice breaks their silence.
"What does it look like, Owens? Getting a better shot." Her body hangs halfway out the window, camera leaning out the window as she moves the lens and clicks.
"Get your ass in the truck, I'm not payin' your hospital bills when you fall out and I run over you."
She rolls her eyes and ignores him, almost her entire body hanging out the window.
"Okay, okay, get in the truck, I'll get you closer, Jesus."
She pulls herself back into the truck and rolls the window back up as Tyler moves forward down the muddy path, closer to the storm now building ahead. The wind and rain grow more intense, shaking even the bulky vehicle that could easily withstand even the most treacherous of conditions. The spiraling tunnel only moves at a more pummeling speed, and Y/N's sharp shout fills the air.
"Stop the truck!"
He hits the brake and before the truck even stops, Y/N's rolling out of the passenger side, camera raised as she captures a monster of a storm. Tyler finds himself silent, momentarily distracted-her hair blowing with the force of the wind, the smile drawn across her face, and the long sleeve button down she'd been wearing was slipping down her shoulders, exposing her tank top and-wait-he raises an eyebrow, his heart stopping. Against her neck sat a gold chain he knew too well. It stops him completely in his tracks, shocked that she still wore his initial around her neck. The sound of a roaring train pulls him from his thoughts and sends him leaning out his own door.
"Y/N," he's shouting over the loud winds. "GET YOUR ASS IN THE TRUCK!"
The barrel of wind only gets closer, the fierceness of wind making Tyler's heart race. The girl outside his truck, however, only smiles wider, raising her camera for another shot of the approaching storm.
"I'M FINE, TYLER. WIND'S NOT EVEN THAT BAD!"
Tyler huffs as his voice, raspy from yelling, shouts again.
"THAT WASN'T A REQUEST, SWEETHEART. GET YOUR ASS IN THIS TRUCK!"
She ignores his shouts, only squinting her eyes at the horizon as the wind picks up another notch, making the shirt now halfway down on her arms blow like a flag in the wind. Tyler gives her a minute to comply, hoping this was just a momentary phase of her being stubborn. After five minutes, Tyler cursed and stomped out of the truck over to her. He says nothing, picking her up over his shoulder.
"TYLER! WHAT THE FUCK?! PUT ME DOWN, ASSHOLE!"
He doesn't give in to her retorts, simply swinging her door open and shoving her into the passenger seat. He gets into his driver's side and slings his arm on her headrest, turning to back the truck around.
"What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have some sort of sick kink where you get off on ruining my life? I had a perfect shot, it-"
"You had a perfect shot of getting sucked into a tornado is what you had, Y/N. You're gonna get yourself killed gettin' that fuckin' close!"
"Like you would care." Her voice isn't even a mumble, and Tyler hardly hears her over the sounds of the storm.
It sends a jab of pain through his heart he doesn't expect, and instead of saying anything, he lets her stew in anger in his passenger seat. When he drops her off at her dorm, she agrees to email him her half of the project, and a week later he receives it.
He opens the email to find exactly what he imagines, the most spectacular shots of a storm he's ever seen. After the report and photos are submitted, the two never speak to one another again. They both graduate under the same Arkansas sun, but lead different lives in the same area of the country. Y/N swears she sees his truck pass her every time she goes out to shoot, and he sees her in every girl that stands in a field with a camera.
Y/N would never admit that she has a burner account subscribed to his livestreams, or that she laughed and smiled as she watched him hoop and holler with his ragtag group of friends, memories of the chases they once went on filling her mind more fondly than painfully these days. And if she had one of the red and white shirts with his stupid cartoon face plastered against it, well, no one would ever know.
When Boone and the rest of his crew would stop for food and rest breaks, if Tyler saw her name plastered in a newspaper or magazine, he'd put it on the counter next to his plethora of snacks. He'd never admit he'd cut her articles out of them and kept them in a small scrapbook that lived in his glovebox, right next to the picture of her that once lived in his visor-only because a magazine cut-out clip of her lived there now, her smiling with a massive twin barrel storm behind her, the gold chain peeking from the shirt was wearing.
-
iii.
"Ty, man, this one's a beaut! She's unreal!"
Boone's voice filled Tyler's ears from the passenger seat, but as Tyler looked out at the horizon, his attention was far from the brunette that sat next to him. He saw her car before he saw her-the same rink-dink, decked out, black Subaru she'd had in college, meaning she was here on her own, not for business.
His green eyes darted to the field across from where it was parked, spotting her instantly as she stood in the tall grass, hair blowing as she brought her camera to her face, crouching down to get the perfect shot. She shook her head when she pulled back from it, enjoying the sight in front of her.
Tyler puts the truck in park and all but barrels out of the door, his boots taking him towards her, but not nearly fast enough.
"Jesus, who's that? And why's she got Ty all in a tizzy?" Boone leans over to Lilly, who gives him an incredulous look.
"That's Y/N Y/L/N, she's a storm photographer, apparently he's got some fan girl crush on her or somethin', he keeps her work in a binder."
"Holy shit! Tyler knows the Y/N Y/L/N?"
Tyler would've blushed and denied Lilly's statement vehemently, but he was too far away to hear. Instead, the whipping winds and the sound of Y/N's delightful laughter filled his ears.
"She's a beaut, huh?" Tyler's voice carries over the noise, falling on Y/N's ears. She takes a breath and turns to face him for the first time in years. She nods slowly.
"Yeah, she's gorgeous. Got some great shots."
Her throat feels dry as his eyes peer down at her. She finally braves a look up at him.
"Um, I'm not studying it or anything, just bored, really. I'll let you and your crew have her."
She gives him a small smile, but he notes it's genuine as she caps the lens on her camera.
"It was good to see you, Ty. Good luck."
"Y/N, wait. I-I need to ask you somethin'."
She pauses her steps, turning back to face the man in front of her. For a split second, he looks just like the younger version that had left her all those years ago-the hat, the belt buckle, but none of that same all consuming fear.
"Sure, go ahead."
"Why do you still wear it? I saw you, that time in college, and when you did that shoot outside of Kansas City, the picture they published of you, it-you can see it real clear."
Y/N stills, pushing back hair that's blowing in the wind as she looks at him. She could say a multitude of things-how she wore it because she'd gotten so used to always wearing it. That she wore it because she wanted to hold onto him the only way she could. She could lie and say that she used it as a good luck charm. None of them would be the truth, and she was sick of lying to him, so she simply told the truth.
"Well, all the best chasers, they carry their first storm with them, right?"
She pauses, realizing how vague that was.
"What I mean is, without you taking me through my first storm I never would've done this. I was terrified of them, and you and that stupid red truck of yours showed me how beautiful they can be, and now I capture their beauty for a living. I never would've had any of this without you, so-"
She shrugs, giving him a small chuckle. The silence suffocates as he looks at her.
"Tyler listen-"
"If you're gonna apologize, don't. I'm the one that should apologize, I left you all those years ago. That was real shitty of me, and I didn't give you a warnin' or a reason why. So, I'm sorry, for all of it."
She nods, giving him a smile. The quiet floods between them again, and she pushes back her hair again before she speaks.
"I-I watch your videos, y-your livestreams. You're still crazy, but it reminds me of when we used to chase, and you'd scare me to death, and then you'd, uh, 'apologize' for it and, sometimes it's like I'm there with you."
He laughs with her.
"I-I've got every newspaper and magazine clippin' you've ever been in. You're pictures they're-breathtakin', it feels like you're standin' in the field right there next to you. I guess that's just because I used to be and memories, ya know?"
She nodded, giving him a sweet smile, one that sends his heart racing. They both turn their attention to the horizon where the storm seems relatively calm, at least by their standards.
"Uh, Y/N? I'm sorry, I promised you somethin' all those years ago, and I never made good on it. I think about that a lot, and-just-I'm sorry."
"I forgave you a long time ago, Ty, we were kids." She pauses, tilting her head as she looks at the storm brewing. "Besides, I don't think I'm cut out for that life anymore, I like life on the road. I mean, where else do you get moments like this? The storms back home are wonders, but nothing like this."
"I agree with you there," he chuckles. His heart pounds, and the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. "I miss you though."
She cuts her eyes to his own, as if waiting for him to explain himself.
"You were my original chasin' partner, ya know? Plus, when things got scary, you never flinched, not really. This reporter I've got now? God help us all, can't stand much more than a strong wind."
Y/N laughs loudly before she shakes her head.
"Well, you might be in luck. I hate working for that magazine, I really, really do." She turns to face him, camera pulled close to her chest. "The Tornado Wranglers hiring? I'm looking for a job. I have a portfolio if you need it, references too."
Her statement is laced with sarcasm.
Tyler finds himself laughing now, a wide smile plastered across his face.
"I'm familiar with your work, have it on good graces that you're just what we're lookin' for. Lucky for you, we've always got room for one more, that is, if you'll have us. I gotta warn you, those over there are a handful."
"If they're anything like you, I'm likely to fall in love with them instantly."
Y/N doesn't register the words stumbling out of her mouth until they'd already filled the air between them. Without a word, Tyler grabs her hand, pulling her in closer than people who have a history like theirs should. His calloused fingers reach out to the gold pendant lying on her neck, moving it back and forth between its fingers. It had withstood their time apart-it was scratched and a little weather-worn, but, then again, so were they.
"The clasp broke about a year ago, the rest is all original. Pure gold, willing to sell it for a good offer. The guy at the pawn tried to undersell me, I know what I've got."
Tyler's chest warms, that sarcastic, witty humor he'd missed back in full force.
"Do you take alternate forms of payment?" He pulls her in by her waist with a cocky grin.
"Depends, Owens, what did you have in mind?"
He cocks his eyebrow, giving her a sort of contemplative look as his hands rest on the small of her back, hers around his neck.
"Well, I still owe you about-," He lifts his hand from around her and pretends to count on his fingers. "A billion apologies, we could chase this stunner of a storm, drop these characters back off at the motel, find us an empty field, and I could apologize like I used to...maybe?"
She shakes her head and pulls him in for a heated kiss. They're both smiling so hard its hardly a kiss, but the feelings are there.
"You've got yourself a deal, but I'm keeping the necklace."
"Wouldn't have it any other way, baby." He kisses her head, pulling her back towards his group of friends, who were now whistling at the pair, obviously catching the interaction. "Fair warning, after he finds out just who you are, Boone's likely to fall in love with you."
She raises her eyebrow, pulling away and heading towards the motley crew ahead of her.
"Guess you'll just have to chase me next."
-
taglist:
@fraaaaankiiiiieee
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lewisvinga · 7 months ago
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not the same | charles leclerc x reader x alexandra saint mleux
summary; due to her being in med school, there is a lack of y/n at races and social events which makes fans upset. all it took was for her to distance herself to make charles and alexandra realize what they were missing is her
fc: phoebe dynevor
word count; 831
warnings; cursing maybe
all works taglist; @goldenmclaren @namgification @c-losur3 @minkyungseokie @lavisenri @ollieshifts
note; requested ! made it so reader is in med school instead of a doctor bc like ages n such lolll n decided to mix in a bit of writing lol
masterlist !
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a few months later …
lilymhe uploaded to their story !
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[caption 1; the face of someone who finally finished her exams] [caption 2; party time 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️]
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Alexandra couldn’t help but sigh deeply as she replayed Lily’s story. She hadn’t seen Y/n’s face in ages. After breaking up with Alexandra and Charles, the med student seemingly deleted all social media accounts.
Neither tried to contact her for fear of pushing her away even more. They never confirmed their break up but it’s not like the public speculated it. Due to her being a medical student and prioritizing her studies, Y/n rarely attended races or public events . Charles and Alexandra were never upset about that.
They always encouraged her to study so she could get closer to achieving her dreams instead of missing a potentially important class to attend events. Even then, their dynamic worked perfectly even if in the public eye she was never around.
She was like the missing puzzle piece to complete Alexandra and Charles.
The Ferrari driver noticed his girlfriend's silence after leaving yet again another event. He knew what she was thinking about.
“You miss her too.”
His words caused Alexandra to snap out of the trance she was in. She let out a deep sigh followed by a nod. “She graduates soon too.”
“Do you think giving her space was the right idea?”
“I mean, I didn’t want to drive her further away,” She sighs, fiddling with the gold bracelets on her wrists. “But we should’ve tried harder. I miss her.”
“I miss her too,” Charles mumbled, running his hands through his hair. A silence fell upon the two, a silence that was once filled with Y/n’s mumbles and rants about her studies and the cool facts she learned. One thing was for sure, they both wanted her back.
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Alexandra adjusted the glasses resting on her nose as she walked down the streets of Monaco. She was meeting up with Charles in the shopping center since he needed a lot of help picking out clothing.
She wasn’t paying attention when she suddenly bumped into someone. The small yelp coming from the person sounded all too familiar.
She lifts the glasses up from her eyes and gasps. “Y/n?”
“Alexandra!” Y/n exclaimed in shock. She had a smile on her face, the very same smile that made Alexandra’s heart flutter, which fluttered even more when she was pulled into a hug.
“I-How-“ Alexandra stuttered as she hugged her back. She cleared her throat before continuing, “How have you been?” She hid a frown as the girl in her arms pulled away.
“Good. I’ve been searching for a dress for graduation and I-“
“Y/n?”
Both turned around and spotted the familiar green eyes of the Monegasque. Y/n shyly smiled and waved as Charles walked up to the two. “H-How have you been?” He asked, quickly glancing at Alexandra.
“Good, good.” Y/n sighed, shifting from one foot to another. “I was just telling Alex that I’m searching for a dress for graduation. Lily was supposed to help but she bailed on me.”
Alexandra hadn’t heard that nickname coming from that sweet voice in ages. It made her heart skip a beat once again. Before she could respond, Charles quickly spoke. “Why don’t you join us? She’s helping me upgrade my closet and I know you have good taste. We can help you with your dress.”
Y/n raised her eyebrow at his words and Alexandra’s frantic nods. “About time you’re upgrading your closet. That was my biggest complaint! Just never had the time to go shop for you.” She huffed. “But I’ll take you up on that-“
“Come back to us.” Alexandra couldn’t hold back any longer. Not only did she shock both Charles and Y/n, she even shocked herself. “We miss you, amor. You complete us.”
The Ferrari driver was quick to agree. “We don’t care what strangers on the internet say. We only care about you, chérie.” His eyes had a hopeful glint as he watched Y/n furrow up her eyebrows, a sign that she was thinking deeply. “Come back to us, please.”
It was silent for a moment, no one caring that they were still in the middle of the sidewalk near the shopping center. They didn’t pay any mind to the people rushing around them. Their full attention was on each other.
Y/n let out a sigh which made both Charles and Alexandra panic for a moment before seeing the faint smile on her glossed lips. “I’ve missed you both.” Her whisper resulted in the other two sighing in relief.
“Although Lily’s support, and even Alex’s, was great,” She took a step closer to them. “It was nothing like yours. It wasn’t Alexandra making me a cup of tea. It wasn’t Charles softly playing piano to help me focus. It’s not the same. I’ve missed you both.” Her lips curled into a smile that matched both Alexandra’s and Charles’ wide smiles as they each grabbed one of her hands.
“And we’ll never let you go again, chérie.”
“It’s the three of us, always and forever, amor.”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
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yourusername: thank you, lewis🥹
username: my fave throuple itw❤️‍🩹
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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago
Text
Title: Idolification.
Pairing: Yandere!Itadori Yuuji x Reader (JJK).
Word Count: 5.0k.
TW: No Curse/College AU, Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Prolonged Stalking, (Unintentional) Emotional Manipulation, Oral Sex, Drunk Sex, Unprotected Sex, Age Gap (Reader's 27, Yuuji's 22), Intimidation, Brief Mommy Kink, Pepper Spray, and Obsessive Behavior. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
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“I’m so, so, so, so sorry.”
“It was an accident, you don’t have to—” Yuuji was cut off by another splash of milk, quickly followed by another jet of water. Her makeshift treatment was harsh, the temperature alternating unpredictably between ice cold and scalding hot, but Yuuji took the abuse with a smile that was almost bright enough to distract you from the red, aggravated skin around his eyes. Almost. “It’s alright,” he managed, eventually, doing his best not to sound like he was being slowly drowned in your bathtub. “Believe it or not, that’s only the second worst thing I’ve gotten in my eyes.”
Knowing him, it was probably closer to the fourth or fifth, but that did little to ease your guilt. He’d been leaving as you were getting home from your second twelve-hour shift of the week, and from there, it’d been a comedy of errors. He spotted you coming down the hall, haggard and bleary-eyed, and saw the babysitter who’d spent more summers than not keeping him (and, by association, his older half-brother) out of trouble before their family fell off of the face of the planet, and reacted the way Yuuji reacted to most things – with open arms and a contagious smile. You’d looked at him, a far cry from the kid you’d spent so much time looking after, and seen a very strange, very grown man loitering outside of the door to your shoebox of an apartment before charging towards you with a manic expression and, well, you had always wanted an excuse to use the pepper spray you carried near-religiously. It was only a shame it had to be on someone as sweet as Yuuji.
Now, you were on your knees on the floor of your bathroom, your fingers tangled in Yuuji’s hair as your roommate gently waterboarded him with a cartoon of organic oat milk in one hand and your decade-old showerhead in the other. The front of his t-shirt was soaked through, his lung half-flooded at least, but he was still grinning like you’d greeted him with a blank check and a litter of puppies. “Honestly, it’s on me,” he insisted, his enthusiasm too potent not to be genuine. “Miss Shoko mentioned she was living with someone.”
At the mention of your roommate, Shoko Ieiri, your attention shifted to the woman in-question. You weren’t an idiot. After the shock died down, it hadn’t taken long for you to piece together why a young man would be rushing to get out of your apartment while your attractive (albeit, socially dead) roommate was home alone. When she met your prying eyes, you shot her a pointed glare. “Cradle rocker.”
She threatened to turn the showerhead on you, but relented as soon as you flinched away. “He’s in one of my classes,” she muttered, then pushed herself to her feet with a soft groan. “We’re out of milk,” she said, shaking the empty carton. “Let his eyes air-dry. I’ll be in my office – come get me if he starts crying again.”
“I’m a doctor too, y’know.”
“You’ll be a doctor in another year. Right now, you’re an intern.” She eyed Yuuji wearily. “An intern who physically assaults her patients, at that.”
Without any real way to retort, you stuck your tongue out – a gesture Shoko mimicked as she slipped out of the crime scene that was your bathroom. Despite Shoko’s advice, you fished a towel off the nearest rack and handed it to Yuuji, who accepted it with a grateful hum. “I really am sorry,” you repeated, burying your face in your hands. “It’s just, it’s been so long, and you look so different, and god, it’s been—”
“—ten years,” Yuuji filled in, probably tired of hearing you repeat the same two excuses. “I remember, ‘cuz you invited us to your graduation that year. I wanted to go, too, but Gramps got sick and…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with an airy chuckle. “You know how it is.”
“Oh my god,” you gasped. “I loved your grandfather. How is he?”
Yuuji’s smile wavered for the first time. “He passed, actually. A few years ago.”
Fuck.
If the building was going to collapse and bury you in the rubble, that would’ve been the time.
“Sukuna’s doing good, though,” Yuuji went on, kind enough to pretend there hadn’t been a lapse. “He opened a restaurant a few months ago. It’s a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but it’s been keeping him out of the ring.” His expression brightened. “And you’re a doctor! I mean, I knew you would be, but you’re a doctor!”
You felt your face heat up his brother’s name, your eyes falling to the tiled floor. “Almost a doctor. I just started my internship.” And they’d already managed to work you half to death. “You’re in med school, right? Shoko never teaches undergrad.”
“It’s my first semester,” he said with a slight laugh. “It’s harder than I thought it’d be, though. Miss Shoko offered to give me a few pointers, but, y’know—” He sighed, let his head lull back. “I’m starting to think I’m just not smart enough for stuff like this.”
“You shouldn’t say that kind of thing about yourself. You’ve always been—” You cut yourself off with a sudden gasp, clapping your hands together. “If you’re struggling, let me help you study! I have tomorrow off, and I promise, I’m not as strict as Shoko.”
Immediately, he straightened up, your towel still strung around his neck and his smile returned to its full brightness. It only dimmed slightly when he glanced down at his damp shirt. “…there won’t be as much pepper spray this time, right?”
His smile was as contagious as it’d been when he was still a kid, begging you to let him stay up yet another hour past his already-lenient bedtime. Despite his bloodshot eyes and your lingering, only slightly lessened guilt, you found yourself biting back a grin.  
“No pepper spray, this time. I promise.”
~
“Room for one more?”
She glanced over her shoulder as you struggled past the jammed sliding door, taking a moment to evaluate your stiff shoulders and strained smile over the thick frames of her glasses before nodding curtly. Your relief was immediate and all-encompassing. Honestly, you should’ve known better than to do anything but shake your head and flee the country when Yuuji invited you to hang out with a few of his friends, but he’d sworn up and down that it wasn’t a party and promised that you wouldn’t be out of place and pouted in a way you’d never been able to resist. You were starting to think that, no matter how old you got, you’d never learn to say ‘no’ to Yuuji.
The blaring music was only vaguely muffled by the glass, the blurry outlines of other guests playing behind thin curtains. There was a red solo cup in your hand, a lipstick stain on your cheek from a girl who’d passed out half an hour ago, but you were hyper-aware that you were too old to be at a college party with people at least half a decade younger than you, in the best cases. You braced yourself against the balcony railing with a soft groan, crossing your arms and hanging your head low enough to warrant a hum of sympathy from the woman next to you. She held up a box of cigarettes – the cheap kind you and Shoko used to split on the days you had to decide between food and rent – and you accepted her offer with the kind of gratitude you could only assume a starving lion would’ve shown to a limping gazelle.
“Maki,” she said, shaking one into your open palm and fishing a lighter out of her pocket. “You’re one of Itadori’s friends?”
“You could say that.” You let her light you up before taking a shaky drag, the bitter taste a welcome distraction. “I’ve been tutoring him for a few weeks. I think he just invited me as a way to say ‘thank you’.”
Her eyes flashed with recognition, the corner of his lips turning upward for the first time. “You’re the chick who used to babysit him. (Y/n), right?”
“He’s mentioned me?”
“He won’t shut up about you. Every other word out of his mouth is ‘(Y/n) this’ or ‘(Y//n) that’.” She tapped her cigarette against the edge of the railing, sending a few flakes of ash fluttering down to the street below. “Megumi gets it the worst, but we’ve all had to see the fucking pictures.”
“That… that sounds like him.” You forced out a half-hearted laugh, then wavered. “I’m sorry, pictures?”
Maki opened her mouth, but the balcony door was jerked open before she could respond. Yuji appeared in the open entryway, cheeks flushed and grin wide. He drawled your name in a single slur before moving on to more important topics. “We found a—We found a karaoke machine! ‘gumi thinks he can get it running!”
You sent Maki an apologetic look, but she only shrugged, a sliver of a grin. “Better get him tucked in.”
This time, when you smiled back, it didn’t quite reach your eyes.
~
It took a month for Yuuji to start ‘forgetting’ his textbooks when he came over for your little study sessions.
It took three for Yuuji to drop the pretense of studying at all – calling you out to some late-night diner or lethargic early-morning café or, better yet, showing up at your apartment door unannounced and empty-handed with only that unnerving smile and a half-baked excuse to spend time with you.
It took six for his hand to drift just a little lower than your shoulder while you watched some awful, b-rated horror movie on your well-beaten couch. You let him reach your waist before clearing your throat and shifting away, your smile pained.
“I… I think you should probably leave,” you half-mumbled, your voice shaking. “It’s getting late.”
“We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.” Predictably, Yuuji was undeterred. His persistence used to be endearing, but now, it just felt unfair. “I don’t mind sleeping over, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s not like we’ve never spent the night together.”
A nervous laugh, his hand planted just a little too close to your thigh. “I wish you wouldn’t phrase it like—”
“I mean, I know I’m your type.” It was almost impressive, what he could say with such an innocent expression. His free hand found its way to your other side, pinning you between the arm of the couch and his broad chest. “I know you had a thing for Sukuna, and everyone says we’re practically identical. That means you should be into me too, right?”
“Yuuji,” Your eyes darted to your phone, left absent-mindedly on your coffee table. The urge was there, but it wasn’t like he would actually hurt you. He’d always been a sweet kid – a little overzealous, but that wasn’t a crime. This was just… a bad decision, one you had to stop him from making before he did something he’d regret. “Sukuna is my age, and—”
“I don’t care about that.” He cut in swiftly, definitively. His bright eyes had glazed over, catching the dim light of your T.V. as he leaned in further, as his face came to hover less than a full breath away from yours. “I’ve loved you since I was eight. Can Sukuna say that?”
“That’s not—”
“I know you used to fuck him.” His chest was touching yours, now, his breath hot against your skin. “I know you’d fuck him again, if he was here. I know—”
You didn’t give him a chance to finish. It was a weak blow, simultaneously hesitant and instinctual, but your open palm made contact with his cheek with a deafening crack, his head snapping to the side and putting that much more distance between his body and yours. He moved to cup his swelling cheek, and you took the opportunity to slip out from underneath him and stumble to your feet. “I think you should leave,” you repeated, the words spat hastily enough to blend together. “Please, Yuuji.”
For a second, he didn’t move, didn’t speak.
Then, he turned to face you, his smile wiped away and his expression so blank, you couldn’t remember how you’d ever looked at him and saw anything other than void.
He didn’t say anything, only pushing himself to his feet and shambling out of your living room. You kept your eyes on the ground until his footsteps faded out of earshot, until you heard the front door creak open and slam shut with enough force to shake the walls.
When you were sure he was gone, you collapsed onto your couch and laid motionless while an actress screamed in the background.
~
“Your golden boy’s asking about you, again.”
You groaned, buckling at the waist and burying your face in your arms. Shoko glanced up from the exams she was grading, but whatever sympathy she might’ve felt apparently didn’t warrant the effort it would’ve taken to reach across the table to comfort you. “Satoru’s been getting it, too,” she went on. “That’s how you know it’s bad. I can’t remember the last time someone managed to talk over that narcissist.”
“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t remember how many times you’d already apologized for Yuuji’s recent fixation. “He’s… probably just worried about his grades, or something.”
Her lips quirked into a frown. “What are you talking about?”
“I was helping him study,” you admitted, reluctantly. As much as Shoko had to hear about your unruly patients and patronizing coworkers, you’d been less open about how much time you were spending with a student fresh out of undergrad. “He’s never been that good with school. I used to have to help him with his homework in elementary school, too.”
This time, she decided your conversation was important enough to earn her full attention. “Itadori’s one of my best students.”
You felt your chest tighten. “But, the first time he came over, you were tutoring—”
She said your name, curt and blunt, and you went quiet. With a sigh, she shook her head, dropping her pen entirely. “When was the last time I offered to personally tutor a struggling student?”
You swallowed dryly. “Never.”
“And when was the last time I gave our full address out to literally anyone?”
“Never,” you said, again. After a second, you added, “Well, there was that one time with Iori…”
“Not the point. I know you don’t want to hear it, but the kid’s a creep. You might have to—”
She was cut off by your phone buzzing against the table. Your eyes scanned over the caller’s name scrawled across the dim screen before moving back to Shoko, her gaze now narrowed into a sharp glare. “Don’t.”
And, for a second, you didn’t. You convinced yourself that you wouldn’t. You told yourself that, after you bought Satoru around of drinks as an apology, you’d do… you’d do something about Yuuji, even if you weren’t sure what you could do, just yet.
Then, you let yourself picture the kid you used to watch for a few dollars an hour while his grandfather was sick and his brother was on the other side of town doing something dubiously legal at best, dead in a ditch at worst – all wide eyes and scuffed elbows and lopsided grins. You let yourself remember the way he’d ramble about his day after you picked him up from school, and how excited he was the first time you made it to one of his school’s sports days, and how he’d clung to you and sobbed the day before his family moved to the other side of the country. At the time, you’d been thankful to have one less responsibility, relieved that you’d never have to see Sukuna again. You’d been selfish, even for a kid.
The phone was in your hand in a moment, the call answered in another. You stood as you brought it to your ear, hoping that would be enough to block out Shoko’s mumbled cursing.
“Yuuji?”
~
The silence in your car was thick, nearly suffocating.
It’d been one of Yuuji’s friends calling from his phone – the dark-haired one with the monotone voice, barely audible over the blaring music of whichever nightclub they were standing outside of. He’d asked you to, in his own words, ‘come get your problem child’, and when you’d asked why Yuuji needed you specifically, he’d only handed the phone back to Yuuji and let you listen to a full minute of whining, your name the only coherent thing to make it off of Yuuji’s tongue. Shoko urged you not to go, and yet, twenty minutes later, Yuuji was slumped over in your passenger seat, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed in an uncharacteristic frown.
He was less talkative than he’d been on the phone. The clingier stages of his inebriation had passed, leaving room for a disassociated sort of passiveness that meant, even if you’d been brave enough to try and start a conversation, his response wouldn’t be anything worth that kind of effort. By the time you reached his apartment complex, the knot sitting at the pit of your stomach was equal parts dread and second-hand embarrassment, but you tried to keep your tone light as you turned to him. “It’s time to get out, Yuuji.” And then, when he failed to move, “You’re on your own from here.”
He looked at you, eyes unfocused and hands folded almost childishly over his lap. You softened more than you should’ve at the sight. “…do you need help getting home?”
A second of thought, a quick nod. You shouldn’t. You knew that you really, really shouldn’t.
And yet, somehow, you found yourself in front of Yuuji’s door, fussing over the lock as Yuuji clung to your side, his face buried in the dip of your shoulder. He was cooperative enough; able to stand on his own with minimum swaying but not so lucid that it took more than a gentle suggestion to lead him to his bedroom, where he was more than happy to collapse onto his unmade bed. With a shaky exhale, you turned to leave, but something caught on your sleeve – Yuuji’s hand, when you could bring yourself to check.
“Stay,” he mumbled, his voice dampened by the sheets his face was buried in. “Please?”
You felt your throat go dry. “I can’t.”
You expected him to go shrill and whiny, but he proved to be a touch more mature than the ten-year-old you used to babysit. Rather flatly, he asked, “Why not?”
How were you supposed to answer that? Would it be good enough to say that you didn’t want to, that you couldn’t spend your night looking after a drunk kid you’d known a decade ago, that you’d already done more than you should’ve just by giving him a ride? Was it worth trying to talk to him at all when he could barely hold his head up? Would it do anything to soften the burn of the bile rising into your throat to point out that, the last time you’d been in the same room as him, he’d tried to—
No, it wasn’t and it wouldn’t and you had to leave. With your heart racing in your chest, you tried to jerk yourself out of his hold, but his vice-grip only grew tighter, his head rising up from the mattress just enough to let him stare at you with those big, bleary eyes. “Why not?”
“Yuuji, this isn’t—”
He was so, so much stronger than he had been, the last time you’d seen each other. One second, you were on your feet, at his bedside, and the next, you were on the floor of his bedroom, forced onto your hands and knees while Yuuji’s body pressed into yours from above. “I love you,” he said, his voice as steady as it’d ever been. “I love you, and I—Fuck—” He panted against the back of your neck, something uncomfortably stiff grinding against your ass. “It makes me so fucking hard when you say my name like that.”
A hand slipped under the hem of your top, his palm pressing into the small of your back. You moved to speak, then thought better of it, biting into your bottom lip as your anxious squirming turned to full-blown struggling. Yuuji only laughed, the noise airy and affectionate, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you that much closer to him – making it that much more impossible to get away. His free hand worked clumsily at your top; drawing it up and over your head. You fought against it at first, but froze the first time you felt something stretch a little too far, heard fabric tear. This couldn’t happen, but you absolutely couldn’t be stranded in Yuuji’s apartment with no clothes and no way out.
With his face buried in the back of your shoulder, he cupped your chest, catching your nipples between his forefinger and thumb and pinching with just enough force to draw a low, strained whimper from the back of your throat. “So cute…” He nuzzled deeper into your neck as his touch drifted. Your skirt was drawn downward – a long piece, something you’d thrown on without much thought – then discarded completely, his own shirt wrestled off in the same motion. You felt his fingertips slip under the hem of your panties, but he pulled away and straightened his back, instead. For a second, you let yourself believe that he’d come to his senses, that whatever sick idea he’d gotten into his head had finally worn off, but the arm wrapped around your waist only drew tighter, hauling you off of the floor and into his arms. You were dropped unceremoniously onto the edge of his bed, and Yuuji sunk onto his knees between your open legs.
“I know you’ve probably slept with other people – aside from my brother, I mean. It’d be nice to find out you haven’t, though.” His tone was distant and dreamy. He was still drunk, but not drunk enough for how he’d been acting earlier. Not drunk enough for what he was doing now. He traced the pad of his thumb over your clothed slit, keeping a hand curled around your ankle to keep you in place. “I used to hear you with Sukuna – in his car, and his room, on the couch after you two thought I’d fallen asleep …” He trailed off into an airy laugh. “He likes to show off – always has. If he wasn’t my brother, I think I’d kill him.”
He sighed, pressing a lingering kiss into the inside of your thigh before shifting his attention to your pussy; his tongue laving over the thin material covering your cunt. You were crying, now, openly and audibly – your choked sobs almost loud enough to block out Yuuji’s quiet groans and pleased grunts. However his obsession might’ve made him think he felt about you, your distress didn’t seem to affect his appetite. Your panties were pulled down your legs and slid into some unseen pocket. With the last barrier between you and him gone, he was free to trace his tongue over your slit, to latch onto your clit and suck in a way that made you want to bury your face in your hands and scream. You tried to – crossing your arms over your face, but any sound you tried to make was quickly strangled into a broken moans as his tongue fucked shallowly into your pussy. It was invasive, disgusting, but your body didn’t care. You felt cunt clench around him as his nose ground into your clit, his need for air irrelevant while he spread you open with his tongue. Your thighs clenched shut, attempting to block him out, but his only response was a reverberating groan – and hand on your thigh encouraging you to squeeze him that much tighter.
You couldn’t tell which you hated more; the unwanted stimulation or the fact that your body was reacting to it, heating up where you needed it to go cold. As he sunk further into you, ate you out like a beast starved, you clenched your eyes and willed yourself to go numb, to ignore the sloppy sound of your slick on Yuuji’s lips. It was useless, though, as futile as trying to ignore him in the first place. Your back arched off the bed, legs twitching where they hung limply over his shoulders, and—
 —and Yuuji pulled away with a sharp gasp. He was on top of you before you could process that he was moving, his mouth crashing into yours before you could think to avoid him. The kiss was brutal, rushed; all teeth and tongue and lips shoved against yours with enough force to bruise. The only hint of tenderness was the soft, satisfied noise he let out as his tongue raked across yours, the bright grin painted across his lips when he drew back from you. “It’s alright.” He brought a hand to your cheek, cupping your face and brushing away tears with his thumb. “I’ve slept with other people too, ‘cause I knew I’d need a little practice to catch up with you. Could never go all the way, though. I just thought about you, and…” He blushed, simpered, like he thought he could pass himself off as the shy, lip-biting schoolboy with your slick coating his chin. “I guess I just didn’t really want anyone else to touch me. Not when I knew I’d see you again.”
A horrified sob bubbled up from somewhere deep and primal in your chest. Yuuji didn’t seem to hear it, only sighing as he pressed a lingering kiss into your forehead. “You don’t have to do anything,” he muttered, his hands falling to your waist. “I want to take care of you, tonight.”
You watched in stunned, paralyzed horror as he pushed himself to his feet, as he hastily worked off his jeans, his boxers (the dark material already notably stained with proof of his arousal). You made one more feeble attempt to squirm out from underneath him, to get away before his attention turned back to you, but confused and betrayed and so, so exhausted, you didn’t stand much of a chance against Yuuji. All he had to do was glance your way, his expression as warm as it was soulless, to leave you helpless against him.
He was eager enough not to reposition you, not to draw this out with the pretense of romance. With one hand on your hip and the other planted near your head, he lined the head of his cock up with your entrance and forced himself into you, bottoming out in a single thrust.
It was agony – pure and unrelenting. Any semblance of gentleness, of restraint fell away as soon as Yuuji was inside of you, as soon as your hyper-sensitive cunt clamped down around his cock. He cursed under his breath before collapsing, his chest pressing into yours as he tried to bury himself that much deeper inside of you, to chase the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth. As hard as you tried not to think about Sukuna, Yuuji hadn’t been lying when he said they were alike. He was just as insatiable as his brother had been any time you let him but his hands on you; just as rough in the way his hips ground into yours between sporadic thrusts. There’d been bruises, the next day. At least Sukuna had been the type to make sure he was gone by the time the damage set in. You doubted Yuuji would be so kind.
“I—I’m sorry,” he managed as he buckled into you. Panting against the dip of your shoulder, he took your hips in his hands and dragged your ass of the mattress, his brutal pace stuttering as he found a new angle to abuse. “Next time—I’ll be gentle next time, I just need to—”
His cock hit something soft and sensitive inside of you. Reflexively, your hands shot to his back, your nails finding skin and tearing. The moan Yuuji let out in response was nothing short of sinful; hitched and guttural, ragged and loud enough to block out the wet, slick sound of his cock pumping into your cunt. “M—” His hand wraps around your thigh, catching you under the knee and dragging it towards your chest, letting him fuck into you that much deeper, that much faster. His face never left the crook of your neck, as if he was afraid to give you space to breathe. “Mommy, ‘m sorry, I need to—”
His teeth sunk into your throat as something hot and thick flooded into your cunt, as your body went stiff and your vision burned white. While his climax was sudden, intense, the peak to a decade’s worth of patience, yours had to be dragged out of you despite your attempts to hold it back, to deny yourself pleasure in the vain hope that it’d somehow be able to convince Yuuji to stop what he’d already finished. It seemed to hold you there in that state of dark, distorted euphoria for minutes – Yuuji’s movements turning slow and languid as he nursed you through your orgasm.
Eventually, mercifully, he went still, going limp above you with his canines still planted in the curve of your neck. If there was any pain, any other unwanted burdens he could force onto you, you were too lost in your own despair to notice, too distant to feel anything other than the mildest tinge of dread as he pulled back, raising his head just far enough to stare down at you, adoration heavy in his eyes and his grin wide and love-struck.
A small, naïve part of you found the sight suffocatingly familiar, while the rest could almost convince itself that you were looking at a stranger.
3K notes · View notes
reidmarieprentiss · 6 months ago
Text
Rewritten Plans
Summary: Spencer accidentally rejects you in fear of being rejected himself.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x tech analyst fem!reader
Category: fluff, angst
Warnings/Includes: crying, rejection, miscommunication
Word count: 4.7k
a/n: giving our baby better memories <333
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The fluorescent lights in the break room flickered slightly as you reached for your usual morning coffee, the bitterness of the weekend still lingering like an unwelcome guest. You had spent the last few days wrestling with a mix of emotions—embarrassment, hurt, and a deep sense of rejection that gnawed at you. You couldn’t believe Spencer, the man you had built up the courage to ask out, hadn’t even shown up. As if the whole thing had been a cruel joke, he hadn’t called or texted to explain. Just… nothing.
As you stirred the sugar into your cup absentmindedly, you heard a familiar voice. “Good morning,” Spencer greeted, his tone casual as if everything was perfectly normal.
You froze, the spoon clattering against the ceramic mug. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned slowly to face him. His smile was genuine, but it was like a knife twisting in the wound. You had to swallow the rising lump in your throat as you stared at him, disbelief etched into your features.
“Good morning?” The words nearly choked in your throat as you barely managed to keep your voice from trembling. You couldn’t say anything more, couldn’t confront him here with others around. Instead, you clenched your jaw, turning on your heel, and walked out of the break room, the sting of tears burning in your eyes.
Spencer stood there, confusion furrowing his brow as he watched you leave. He replayed the conversation in his head, trying to figure out what he might have said wrong.
As you made your way back to the shared office you had with Penelope, you hastily wiped at your eyes, trying to compose yourself. The last thing you needed was anyone seeing you like this, but you knew Penelope. She was too perceptive, especially when it came to her friends.
Penelope looked up from her monitors as you entered, her vibrant outfit contrasting starkly with the dull mood you carried with you. “Hey, what’s up, sweet cheeks?” she asked, her voice full of concern the moment she noticed your expression.
You tried to play it off, offering a weak smile as you sat down at your desk, but the pain was too fresh, too raw. You sniffled slightly, quickly reaching for a tissue. “Nothing, just had a bad weekend.”
Penelope’s eyes narrowed, the gears in her mind already turning. “Did you go out with the good doctor?” she asked, her voice lifting with hope as she wiggled her eyebrows. She had been so excited for you, so sure that Spencer wouldn’t say no.
But the question was the breaking point. The tears you had been desperately trying to hold back welled up, and despite your best efforts, a few escaped, sliding down your cheeks.
Penelope’s face fell as she immediately rushed over to your side, pulling a chair close to yours. “Oh honey, what’s wrong? What happened?”
You looked at her, your vision blurred by tears, and it took everything in you to say the words. “He stood me up!”
“What??” Penelope’s voice was a mixture of shock and outrage. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
You wiped at your tears with the back of your hand, feeling utterly defeated. “Spencer stood me up, Penelope. He never came, not even a call or text. Nothing.”
Penelope’s eyes flashed with anger, something you didn’t see often from her. “He must have a good reason,” she tried, but her voice lacked the usual conviction. She couldn’t imagine Spencer doing something so cruel without a reason.
But you shook your head, the hurt too deep to be consoled by simple explanations. “If he had a reason, he would have called or something, right? But he didn’t. He just… didn’t show up.”
Penelope looked like she was about to explode. “I’m gonna go give him a piece of my mind!” she declared, starting to rise from her seat, her protective instincts kicking in.
“No, Penelope,” you pleaded, grabbing her arm. “Don’t say anything, please. I’m already so humiliated.”
Penelope hesitated, her heart aching at seeing you so distraught. She sat back down, her expression softening as she took your hand in hers. “Okay, honey, I won’t. But I’m going to give him a nasty look every time I see him!”
Despite everything, you couldn’t help but let out a small, watery laugh. Penelope was one of the kindest, most understanding people you knew, and you were grateful to have her by your side, even if it didn’t make the pain go away. “Thank you, Penelope.”
She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Anytime, sweet cheeks. Anytime.”
As you both turned back to your work, you couldn’t help but think about how the rest of the day would go, knowing that Spencer was just a few doors away, completely unaware of the hurt he had caused.
It was a quiet afternoon in the office, the kind where the hum of computers and the occasional ringing of phones created a soothing, almost hypnotic atmosphere. You had been working alongside Penelope for a few months now, and in that time, you’d gotten to know everyone on the team fairly well. But there was one person who had caught your attention more than anyone else—Spencer Reid.
Spencer was a fascinating mix of brilliance and awkwardness, someone who seemed to live in a world of his own, filled with facts and figures, statistics and probabilities. He was charming in his own unique way, with a smile that could light up a room. Over the weeks, you found yourself drawn to him, captivated by the way his mind worked, and how despite all his intelligence, there was a sweetness to him, a kindness that made your heart flutter.
So, after much internal debate and several pep talks from Penelope, you decided to take the plunge and ask him out. The idea terrified you—rejection was never easy, but there was something about Spencer that made you think it would be worth the risk. You caught him in a rare moment of quiet, standing by the coffee machine, refilling his cup. His focus was entirely on the task at hand, his mind likely a million miles away.
“Hey, Spencer,” you greeted, your voice light as you approached.
He looked up, blinking as if you’d pulled him from some deep train of thought. “Oh, hey,” he replied, offering you a small smile. “How’s it going?”
You fiddled with your hands nervously, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s going good, thanks. Um, I was actually wondering if… maybe you’d like to go out this weekend? With me, I mean. Like… a date?”
There was a brief silence, and for a moment, you saw something flash across his eyes—was it confusion? Shock? It was hard to tell. His expression remained neutral, almost too neutral, as if he was trying to process your words.
Spencer’s mind was racing. This couldn’t be real, right? Memories from his school days flooded back to him, unwanted and painful. He remembered the girls who had asked him out, only to laugh at him when he showed up, mocking him for believing they could ever be interested in someone like him. The sting of their cruelty had left scars, ones that never fully healed, making it hard for him to trust when it came to matters of the heart.
And now, here you were, standing in front of him, asking him out. He wanted to believe it was genuine, but the fear of being hurt again was too strong, too ingrained in him.
“Ha, yeah, sure. See you then,” he said, his voice carrying a forced lightness as he flashed you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
You smiled back, relieved that he had said yes, telling him when and where to meet you. You didn’t notice the way his smile faltered slightly as you walked away, or how his gaze dropped to the floor, lost in a swirl of doubt and old wounds.
To Spencer, this was just another prank, another setup for humiliation. He couldn’t bear the thought of showing up somewhere only to be laughed at again, so he made a decision right then and there. He wouldn’t go. It was easier that way, safer. Better to be the one who doesn’t show up than the one who ends up a fool.
But as you left the break room that day, excitedly thinking about your upcoming date, you had no idea that Spencer wasn’t planning to come at all. You had no idea that his past was full of moments that had taught him to be wary of people’s intentions, to doubt even the kindest gestures. And because of that, neither of you could have anticipated the heartache that was about to unfold.
The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough that even those who weren’t particularly attuned to the emotional undercurrents of their team could feel it. Spencer sat at the conference table, his hands clasped together in front of him, his fingers nervously fidgeting with one another. He was trying to focus on the case at hand, but his mind kept drifting to the awkwardness that had settled in the room.
He couldn't ignore the way you had walked in, eyes fixed anywhere but on him, your expression clearly hurt and turned to avoid even glancing in his direction. It was like a punch to his gut, confirming what he feared—something had gone wrong, horribly wrong.
And then there was Penelope. She wasn’t just looking at him; she was glaring. Her usual warm, playful demeanor had been replaced by a frosty silence and a gaze that could have cut through steel. Spencer could feel the weight of it on him, making him squirm in his seat. He didn’t understand why she was so angry, but it was clear she knew something he didn’t.
Derek, sitting across the table, was the first to pick up on the strange energy. He noticed the way Penelope’s eyes kept darting over to Spencer, the way she seemed ready to pounce, her foot tapping restlessly against the floor. Derek had seen Penelope angry before, but this was different. This was personal.
As the meeting wrapped up and the team began to disperse, Derek caught up with Penelope just as she was about to leave. “Hey, baby girl,” he called softly, falling into step beside her. “You wanna tell me why you were looking at Reid like he spit in your coffee?”
Penelope paused, her face tightening as she looked around the room, making sure no one else was within earshot. Without a word, she grabbed Derek’s hand and tugged him down a quiet corridor in the office, away from prying eyes and ears.
Derek allowed himself to be pulled along, his curiosity piqued. Whatever had Penelope this riled up had to be serious. When they were finally out of sight, she turned to him, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“If I tell you, you have to be sworn to secrecy,” she said, her voice low but urgent.
Derek held up his hands in mock surrender, his expression full of concern and intrigue. “You got it, mama. My lips are sealed.”
Penelope hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering down to Derek’s mouth. “Mmm, those lips,” she muttered, before shaking her head to refocus. “Okay, focus. Y/N asked out Spencer, and he stood her up.”
Derek blinked, the surprise evident on his face. “No way,” he said, his voice dropping in disbelief.
Penelope nodded solemnly, her expression serious. “Believe it, beautiful.”
Derek leaned back against the wall, running a hand over his head as he tried to process what he was hearing. “That doesn’t sound like Reid,” he finally said, his brow furrowing in confusion. “He’s not that kind of guy.”
“I know,” Penelope sighed, her voice filled with frustration. “But Y/N said he didn’t even call her, Derek. Not a text, not a word. Just left her hanging.”
Derek felt a surge of protective anger rise within him. He couldn’t imagine Spencer doing something so thoughtless, but if it had happened, there had to be an explanation. “Oh, I’m going to have a little chat with him,” Derek said, his voice low and determined as he pushed up his sleeves, ready to confront his friend.
Penelope reached out, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “Y/N said not to intervene. She’s embarrassed,” she said, her voice softening.
Derek hesitated, looking down at Penelope’s hand on his arm, then back up at her face. He could see the conflict in her eyes, the way she wanted to protect you but also knew that something needed to be done. “I hear you, but you know I can’t just let this slide. Something’s up with Reid, and if he hurt her, even unintentionally, we need to get to the bottom of it.”
Penelope sighed, letting her hand drop as she nodded reluctantly. “Just… be careful, okay? He’s sensitive, and I don’t think he would do something like this on purpose.”
Derek gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll talk to him, figure out what’s going on. But I won’t make a big scene. I promise.”
Penelope nodded again, trusting Derek to handle the situation delicately. “Thank you, Derek. I just want Y/N to be okay.”
“She will be,” Derek promised, squeezing her shoulder gently before heading off in search of Spencer.
Spencer had just finished organizing his files when he heard Derek's voice calling out to him from across the bullpen. “Yo, Reid, come have a chat with me,” Derek said, his tone casual but carrying an undertone that Spencer couldn’t quite place.
Spencer looked up, his brow furrowing in confusion. Derek’s expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that made Spencer uneasy. Nonetheless, he nodded and followed Derek as he led the way down one of the quieter hallways, away from the bustling activity of the main office.
When they reached a more secluded spot, Derek turned to face him, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. Spencer shifted nervously, his mind already racing through all the possible reasons why Derek would want to talk to him in private like this.
Derek didn’t waste any time. “I heard from a little birdy that you skipped out on a promise this weekend,” he said, his voice steady but with a hint of disappointment.
Spencer’s confusion only deepened. “Huh? What? When?” he asked, genuinely perplexed. He couldn’t recall making any promises recently, much less skipping out on them.
Derek raised an eyebrow, giving Spencer a pointed look. “Your date with Y/N?” he prompted, his tone making it clear that he wasn’t messing around.
“My what??” Spencer’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, his mind reeling. “A date with Y/N?” he repeated, as if trying to wrap his head around the idea.
Derek nodded slowly, watching Spencer’s reaction closely. “Yeah, man. From what I hear, it seems pretty clear that there was a date in place. She asked you out, didn’t she?”
Spencer felt his stomach drop as the memory of your conversation in the break room flooded back to him. The moment when you had asked him out, the way he had brushed it off, thinking it was just another cruel prank like the ones he had endured in school. His face paled as the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.
“Oh no,” he muttered, more to himself than to Derek. He brought a hand to his mouth, the guilt starting to churn in his gut. “She… she really meant it?”
Derek’s expression softened slightly as he saw the genuine regret in Spencer’s eyes. “Yeah, Reid, she really did,” Derek confirmed, his voice gentler now. “And when you didn’t show up, she was pretty hurt. She thought you stood her up.”
Spencer’s heart sank even further. He felt like he’d been punched in the chest. “I didn’t— I thought—” He stumbled over his words, struggling to find a way to explain himself. “I thought it was a joke, Derek. I thought… I thought she was just messing with me like they used to do back in school. I didn’t think she was serious.”
Derek sighed, his frustration mingled with sympathy. He knew Spencer’s past had been tough, especially when it came to trust and relationships, but this was a mess that needed to be cleaned up. “Look, I get it, man. But you need to talk to her, explain what happened. She’s not those kids from your school. Y/N’s not like that.”
Spencer nodded, his throat tightening with emotion. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said quietly, his voice thick with regret. “I never wanted to hurt her.”
“I know, Reid,” Derek said, placing a reassuring hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “But you’ve gotta make this right. She deserves to know the truth.”
Spencer looked up at Derek, his eyes filled with determination despite the guilt weighing him down. “I will,” he promised. “I’ll talk to her as soon as I can.”
“Good,” Derek said, giving Spencer’s shoulder a firm squeeze before letting go. “And next time, Reid, give yourself a little more credit. Not everyone’s out to get you.”
Spencer managed a small, shaky smile. “Thanks, Derek,” he said, his voice sincere.
Derek nodded, watching as Spencer turned to head back to his desk, his mind already racing with how he was going to fix the situation.
The days that followed were an exercise in avoidance, a delicate dance you performed with all the grace and agility of someone trying to protect a wounded heart. You made sure to be busy—busier than usual—burying yourself in work, taking on extra tasks, and making yourself scarce in the common areas of the office. If Spencer happened to be in the break room, you suddenly remembered you needed to be somewhere else. If he entered the bullpen, you would conveniently find a reason to slip out, your footsteps quick and purposeful.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him. On the contrary, a part of you longed for him to acknowledge what had happened, to offer an explanation or even an apology. But the other part of you, the one that was humiliated, sad, rejected, angry, and hurt, couldn’t bear the thought of facing him. You didn’t trust yourself not to break down, to let those emotions spill out in a mess of tears and confusion. So you avoided him like the plague, hoping that by keeping your distance, the wounds might heal on their own.
But Spencer wasn’t blind to your actions. He noticed how you seemed to disappear whenever he entered a room, how your laughter, which used to fill the space, was now absent, replaced by a cold silence that made him ache with guilt. He tried to catch your eye in meetings, but you wouldn’t look at him, your focus trained determinedly on your notes or on anyone else in the room. It was as if you had built an invisible wall between you, one that Spencer didn’t know how to break through.
He tried to find moments where he could talk to you, hoping for a chance to explain, to make things right. But every attempt was thwarted by your meticulous avoidance. He waited outside your office one morning, only to have you take the other exit. He lingered by the elevator after a meeting, but you took the stairs instead. It was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands—no matter what he did, you slipped through his fingers.
Spencer knew he had to get creative if he wanted to talk to you. The usual methods weren’t working, and he couldn’t just let this go. He cared too much to let you slip away without an explanation, without trying to mend what had been broken. So, he started to think, his mind racing with possibilities. Spencer was nothing if not resourceful, and if he could outsmart the most dangerous criminals, surely he could figure out a way to reach you.
Spencer spent the next few days trying to think of a way to reach you, a way that you couldn’t avoid or brush aside. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he needed to do something drastic, something that would grab your attention and force you to hear him out. Given his background in technology and his time at MIT, he knew he had the skills to make it happen. He just needed to put those skills to use in a way that would make you listen.
He spent a night at home, setting up his camera, nervously adjusting the angle and lighting. He wasn’t used to making personal videos like this, but he knew it was the only way to truly convey how sorry he was. After several deep breaths, he hit record.
“Hi, Y/N,” he began, his voice soft but steady as he looked directly into the camera. “I know this is probably the last thing you want to see right now, and I’m sorry for that. But I also know that you’ve been avoiding me, and I can’t blame you for it. I just… I need you to hear me out, and since I can’t seem to get a moment alone with you, this is the only way I could think of.”
He paused, running a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’ve spent the last few days thinking about what happened, and I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and I hate that I did. When you asked me out, I thought it was a joke. I thought you were just messing with me, like what used to happen to me in school. I’ve been through that kind of thing before, and it’s left me with some… issues, I guess. I was scared of being hurt again, so I just assumed the worst.”
Spencer swallowed, his eyes earnest and full of regret. “But I realize now that I was wrong. You weren’t trying to hurt me, and I ended up hurting you instead. That’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m so, so sorry. If I could go back and do things differently, I would in a heartbeat.”
He took a deep breath, his voice softening even more. “I don’t know if you can forgive me, and I understand if you need time. But I just wanted you to know how truly sorry I am and that I didn’t mean to stand you up. I was just… scared, and I let that fear get the better of me.”
“If you’ll let me, I would love to make it up to you. Take you on a proper date this weekend. But if not, I completely understand, I won’t take offense. I’m truly sorry.”
Spencer finished recording, his heart pounding as he watched the video playback. It wasn’t perfect, but it was honest. And that’s what mattered. Now came the next part—getting the video to you in a way you couldn’t avoid.
The next morning, while you were immersed in your work, your computer screens suddenly flickered. At first, you thought it was just a glitch, but then the screen went black for a moment before a video started playing. It was Spencer’s face, looking directly at you, and your heart skipped a beat as you realized what was happening.
You reached for the keyboard, trying to close the video, but it was no use. The screen remained locked on the video, Spencer’s voice filling the room as he began to speak.
“Hi, Y/N,” the video started, and you froze, your hands hovering above the keyboard as you listened. There was something about the way he was looking at you, even through the screen, that made you stop and listen.
As Spencer explained himself, as he talked about his fears and how he thought it was a joke, your heart began to soften. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the regret that laced every word. He wasn’t just saying this because he felt obligated—he truly meant it. And that realization hit you harder than you expected.
By the time the video ended, you were left staring at the screen, your emotions a tangled mess. You felt a mix of relief, sadness, and understanding. You couldn’t deny the pain you’d felt, but you also couldn’t ignore the effort Spencer had gone through to reach out to you.
The screen flickered again, and your screens returned to normal. For a long moment, you just sat there, staring at the now-blank screen, trying to process everything. Part of you wanted to be angry, to hold onto the hurt, but another part of you—a softer, more forgiving part—knew that Spencer had been genuine. He hadn’t meant to hurt you. He had just been scared, like you were now.
With a deep breath, you finally allowed yourself to acknowledge what you felt: maybe, just maybe, you could find it in yourself to forgive him. After all, everyone deserves a second chance. And Spencer Reid seemed to be worth it.
“Soo, I can’t pretend I wasn’t in here for all of that,” Penelope said, her eyes twinkling with anticipation as she leaned against the doorframe. “What are you gonna do, lovely?”
You sighed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you glanced back at your screen, still feeling the warmth of Spencer's apology lingering in the air. You turned to Penelope, your smile growing a little wider as you finally admitted, “I think I have a date this weekend.”
Penelope’s face lit up with a grin as she clapped her hands together, clearly thrilled by your response. “That’s the spirit! You’re gonna knock his socks off, I just know it.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension from the past week finally starting to melt away. “I hope so,” you said, feeling a little lighter.
Spencer was sitting at his desk, his leg bouncing anxiously under the table as he tried to focus on the paperwork in front of him. But his mind was elsewhere, entirely consumed by thoughts of you. He knew you’d seen the video by now—there was no way you could have missed it. But the silence that followed was eating away at him, making every minute feel like an hour. What if you decided not to respond at all? What if he had misjudged everything?
The thoughts whirled around in his mind, growing louder with each passing second until he heard a voice that made his heart skip a beat.
“Spencer?”
He looked up quickly, his nerves tightening as he saw you standing by his desk. “Hi,” he replied, his voice coming out a little shakier than he intended.
You gave him a small, reassuring smile, sensing his nervousness. “What time Saturday?” you asked, your tone soft but clear, letting him know that you were willing to give him that second chance.
For a moment, Spencer just blinked, the realization of what you were saying slowly sinking in. Relief and excitement flooded through him, and he felt the tension in his chest ease up. “Uh… how about seven?” he suggested, his voice a bit steadier now, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Seven sounds good,” you agreed, your smile widening as you saw the genuine happiness in his eyes.
“Great,” Spencer said, his heart soaring. “I’ll pick you up.”
You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I’m looking forward to it,” you said, and with that, you turned to leave, feeling a warmth spread through you that had been missing for the past few days.
As you walked away, Spencer couldn’t help but let out a small, relieved laugh, finally allowing himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.
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traveler-at-heart · 8 days ago
Text
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?
410 notes · View notes
vantetaes · 2 months ago
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BOOK WORM 🫧🥂
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BOOK WORM! ARMIN X BLACK FEM READER
SUMMARY!! yn helps her friend relieve some stress.
WARNINGS!! 18+!! mentions of oral (f receiving), alcohol consumption, pet names, honestly just smut
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the door creeps open slowly, revealing a figure illuminated by a laptop screen and a faulty led lamp. the faint clicking from the keyboard and sound of papers ruffling were the only sound that filled the room.
you peer around, the cluttered desk told you everything you needed to know: scattered papers, a coffee cup that looked like it hadn’t moved in hours, and a faint shadow under his eyes that screamed exhaustion.
“armin. what the hell?” walking over to the boy, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. the bag you came in being placed on the only clear spot of the desk. he leans into your touch a little, enjoying the warmth you never failed to bring, but snapping out of it quickly, rearing back up to continue typing.
“finals are in two weeks and if i don’t get my scores perfect i’ll have to hear about it for ages with my lawyer brother, attorney sister, my supreme court justice father, and my doctor mother.” he never once stopped typing. bending down to your knees, he gives you a small glance before reaching for a stack of crumbled pages, shuffling the sheets in confusion.
“i know it’s arou- ah! okay good.” he picks up a half ripped sheet, copying down the data from the sheet onto his laptop. lips in a tight line, you stand back up, digging through the tan tote bag. a small case of flavored beer and a couple of shooters make their way onto the desk. he looks over at the spread, immediately shaking his head.
“hell no, yn! are you crazy? i have class in the morning.” you throw you hands up in defeat.
“can we make a deal ‘minnie?” he ignores you, still typing. fed up, you finally unzip your jacket, tossing it on the extra chair. throwing one of your legs around the boy, he rears his hands up , scared to touch you. you’re straddling him, pushing the blonde locks out of his face, tucking a few of the longer pieces behind his ear. his ice blue eyes stare up at you in confusion.
“what are you doing, yn?”
“drink one beer with me. not! while doing homework. just enjoy a full beer and maybe a shooter and i’ll leave you alone afterwards! swear.” holding your pinky out to the male, he bites the insides of his cheek, thinking really hard about your opposition.
“just one?” waving your pink acrylic back and forth between your bodies, he finally latches on with his.
-
PARTYNEXTDOOR plays in the background, filling the void of quiet. the entire six pack was now just one. the one you and armin were currently sharing. he takes a swig from it, grabbing your chin with his thumb and index finger, he places the bottle to your lips. his blue eyes stare as you gulp down the last of the liquid catches you off guard, causing you to cough up a little, accidentally getting it on his white shirt.
“oh shit. im sorry.” you try to wipe it off with your sleeve. he just laughs, moving your arm a little.
“it’s okay. i’ll change.” he moves from his position on the bed, hand gripping the shirt from behind his head, pulling it over, stripping himself of the shirt. you couldn’t help but notice the way his back was sculpted.
since when does he work out? is that a tattoo?
“i didn’t know you had a tat, minnie.” slurring, he turns around to look at you sprawled out on his bed. your body waved hair sprawled out everywhere, sweater falling off your shoulders and shorts riding up your thighs.
he knows, you’re only his friend and he had no chance with you. hell, your ex is onyankopon. what could armin give up that he wasn’t? but shit, the way he thinks about you. the way his eyes can’t help but to feast on your appearance when you’re near him. he wanted to ruin you. to cherish you. to make you his.
“yeah it was an old friends idea. he passed not too long ago. still miss the kid.” he just hangs his head before going back to look for another shirt.
“come here.” you say assertively. armin turns around, the front looking just as good as his back.
he drunkenly waddles back to the bed, climbing back into his original spot. your finger traces over the abstract tattoo, inspecting it closely.
it was a sigilism tattoo that started below his ribs and extended up his left pec, to his bicep.
your other hand rested on his abdomen, laying up against the man.
“how long did it take?” you quiz.
“it was honestly two full sessions since im a pussy. so about five hours a session.” he laughs, face turning a little red.
“i think it’s so cool.” you say still studying the ink. look over at the man you see his eyes directly on you, then a quick glance down at your lips.
“i think you’re cool.” you say, feeling his body inch closer, gradually changing your position. his hands wrap around your waist, slowly shifting him under you. eyes never breaking contact.
“i think you’re-“ he leans down, eye to eye with you. his lips plant down firmly on yours. moving in sync, you could feel him relax into it, tongue occasionally swiping across your bottom lip. you’d never been this close to him. he smelled like coconut and dior cologne, hair dangling above your face.
“what about onyankopon?” pulling away from the heated kiss, he asks, worry filling his eyes.
“mm- what about him?”
“right. if you want me to stop, let me know pleas-“ throwing your arms around his neck, you pull him back down. his lips were so soft. his breath tasted like fresh peppermint, completely baffling you since you both just drank alcohol. he was intoxicating.
moving your lips in unison, there’s no rush, no urgency—just the gradual deepening of the kiss. the way his lips part slightly against yours, inviting more. his fingers slide gently along your jaw, tilting your face toward his, eager.
he forces himself to break away, whining at the loss. his lips move to your neck, hands wondering every inch of your body, trying to stimulate you every way he can. sucking and leaving marks all over your collarbone, he finds himself helping you remove your sweater. revealing a pink lace bralette.
“fuck, everything about you is so beautiful.” you whine, tugging at his sweatpants knot.
“well get there princess, lust let me make you feel good please. it’s the only thing i’ve wanted to do. let me eat you.” you could damn near see the fire that burned behind his eyes. his large hands slip under your bra, gently massaging them, using his index and thumb to roll your nipples in between. a gasp escapes your lips.
“armin- fuck.” he gets impatient, lifting your bra up to your chest, mouth immediately attaching to the swollen bud. your mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape, gripping at the man’s golden locs.
he leaves them both a few kisses before peppering your stomach with a few kisses.
staring down at the man, you see him kissing at the inside of your thighs, humming after every kiss. he finally gets impatient, gripping the shorts by the waistband, yanking them off your body. you giggle, being tugged a little.
wasting no time, he pins your legs back to the bed and starts eating you like he’s starving. his tongue dragging back and forth over your clit, saliva and spit mixing to create a glisten on the man’s face. his lips attach to your swollen clit, sucking soft while he reaches up to play with your matching swollen nipples, sliding his hands all over your exposed body.
“oh armin please!” you could feel him getting hungrier by the minute, his grip on your legs getting tighter as he rubs his tongue up and down your pussy. he stuffed two long thick fingers into your cunt scissoring them, ultimately touching your g-spot. you tried moving, your body tingling, but armin was so drunk from you, he couldn’t tell. his finger hooked into you, slowly stroking the spot, his tongue still abusing your nub. you were seeing stars at this point.
“fuck- minnie im gonna cum!” without fail, you released all over the man’s hand, fluid shooting out of your throbbing cunt, all over his face.
but he didn’t stop. his tongue continued its dance around on you.
“fuck me, i can’t take anymore, please armin.”
without saying anything, he pulls you closer by the waist. coming out of his sweatpants, his hand pumps a few times while he reaches in his side desk to grab a condom.
you also never knew how big he was. you stare at his length as he hovers over you, a little confused.
“where was that at?” you point, he laughs, pushing your legs apart again. looking down, a string of saliva falls right onto your slick, mixing in with the rest.
“was savin him for you, baby.” the tip slides in with ease, armins head throws back, already in love with the way you were sucking him in.
“give me all of it, please.” hips bucking up, trying to get the entire length into your throbbing core. his hands dig into your hips, pressing your down into the mattress, slowly sliding fully into you.
nails on his back, you let out the most nasty moan.
“shit, you feel so good squeezing around me.” pulling out, his body shakes a little, unable to control his whiny moans.
he keeps his strokes gentle and paced, still holding your body deep into the bed. hands pressed to the back of your thighs, he pushes down more, spreading yourself open to take more of him.
his throbbing cock continues slow and teasing, building a fire in the pit of your stomach. pulling your legs together, feet towards his face, his mouth kisses your pedicured toes.
the paces quickens, causing your body to forcefully move up and down. he snakes his arms around your legs, locking them in place with a bear hug, still pounding against you.
“armin! im cumming againn-” before you could catch yourself, you’re squirting all over his dick. he laughs at you, removing his arm, using one of his hands to play with your clit.
“ feel so fucking good. i don’t wanna stop fucking you. please, give me one more.”
he didn’t care that he hadn’t finished, all he wanted was you and all he could give you.
his pace slows down, the look on his face in pure bliss. your hands come up, caressing his face, tears brimming your eyes. the words wouldn’t even form.
“i want it baby, please cum with me.” your voice broken and low, his body lowers, connecting with yours and he slides his arms under your body, slowing down to a good pace. the unforgettable feeling of that tight coil in your stomach shows again as his cock digs at your spot relentlessly.
“im gonna cum, fuck-“
“me too, give it to me, ‘min!” your bodies clash against each others, sweat collecting on your chests, finally reaching the climax. his hips slow down, trying to catch his breath. pulling out, you both groan.
“i hope you know im not letting you fuck anybody else.” he saying rolling over, fixing your hair. your head falls over in direction.
“you too baby.”
with a few more laughs, he stands from the bed, trashing the condom before walking to you. his large arms scoop you up into a cradle.
“let’s get you in the shower.”
© vantetaes. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. ageless/blank blogs dni.
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3igbootyl0ver · 28 days ago
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doctor's in
pairing: tara carpenter x reader
summary: After surviving another Ghostface attack, Tara meets a calm and compassionate doctor, Y/N, who helps her throughout her stay in the hospital, leaving a lasting impression.
word count: 3405
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“If you ever need me, just call,” Kirby declared, her voice rasping slightly from dehydration. A wave of relief washed over her as the nightmare finally came to an end.
“We’re all part of the same messed-up family now. Legacy doesn’t always have to be a bad thing, okay?” she said softly.
The air settled into a comfortable silence, with both Tara and Sam finally beginning to relax after the relentless attacks. But the peace shattered when Tara started to weep, the memory of her injured friend resurfacing—a haunting reminder that Chad might not have made it.
Sam and Kirby exchanged concerned looks, their eyes silently urging Tara to speak.
“Just... Chad,” Tara whispered, her voice breaking.
“Hey, we’ve got another one over here!” a voice shouted, snapping everyone’s attention and pulling Tara out of her spiral of negative thoughts.
Her eyes darted towards the commotion, and her breath caught when she saw her best friend being wheeled toward an ambulance on a gurney. His face was pale, his body still, but the steady rise and fall of his chest brought a glimmer of hope. Tara’s tears turned into a sob of relief as she and Sam, hands trembling, dashed toward him.
“How are you even alive?” Sam blurted out, astonished that he had somehow survived at least ten stab wounds.
Chad managed a weak grin and raised four fingers, his silent response making both Sam and Tara scoff in disbelief.
“Core fucking four,” Tara confirmed with a small smile, pulling her friend into a heartfelt hug.
The moment was cut short when Mindy approached, grinning as she began to ramble about Ghostface, as if they hadn’t already pieced it together. Before they could respond, a paramedic stepped in, gently guiding Chad and Mindy toward the ambulance to tend to their wounds.
Both Tara and Sam shared a breath of relief, grateful to have survived another nightmare. For a moment, a fragile hope lingered between them—the possibility that this franchise of terror had finally come to an end.
Tara hissed as a sharp sting radiated from her abdomen. Glancing down, she noticed a small patch of blood seeping through her shirt—her stitches must have torn from hugging Chad too tightly earlier.
Sam’s eyes narrowed in concern as she noticed Tara clutching her side. Without hesitation, she guided her little sister toward a nearby paramedic, determined to ease her pain and ensure she was cared for.
“Hey, can you help my sister?” Sam queried, your back facing her as you were packing up your first aid supplies into a bag.
You turned around the face the sisters, your sharp eyes quickly detecting the issue as Tara clutched on her abdomen. You immediately took charge and instructed Tara to sit on the platform of the ambulance.
As the paramedic knelt in front of her, their fingers brushing hers to gently move her hand away from her injury, Tara felt her pulse quicken. It wasn’t just the pain from the wound—there was something about the steady calm in their eyes, the soft yet firm pressure of their touch, that made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t in a long time. The world outside, the chaos of the night, seemed to blur as she focused on their quiet presence.
She hadn’t expected it, but the more you moved with such confident care, the more she found herself wanting to know you. Just to thank them properly. Maybe more than that. You knelt beside Tara, trying to ignore the faint blush creeping up your neck after noticing how she was staring at you. Her voice trembled as she explained how she got her injury, and you couldn’t help but notice the vulnerability in her tone. It tugged at something deep within you—a mix of pity and something harder to name.
“Looks like your stitches tore,” You said, voice steady but concerned. “We need to make sure there’s no internal bleeding, okay?”
Before Tara could respond, you took out a stethoscope from around your neck and placed the earpieces in your ear. You moved your fingers to Tara’s lower abdomen, feeling carefully for signs of any internal damage, and then listened intently through the stethoscope.
Tara lay still, trying to steady her breath, feeling the subtle pressure of your hand on her abdomen. She couldn’t tell if the rapid thumping in her chest was a result of the pain from her injury or the way you  moved your expert hands gently across her skin, sending unexpected tremors through her.
“I’m not hearing anything concerning yet, but we’ll get you checked at the hospital just to be sure,” You explained, removing the stethoscope. “You’re still stable.”
Sam’s hand tightened around Tara’s, relief flooding her. "Thank you," she whispered, though the fear still lingered in her eyes.
You stole a glance at Tara as she sat silently, her hands trembling in her lap. There was something about the way she tried to hide her fear that made your chest tighten. You weren’t sure if it was pity or the strange, protective urge bubbling within you.
Both of them followed your lead into the ambulance, settling carefully in the back to ensure they were comfortable. You glanced back at them briefly before heading toward the driver’s seat. Tara’s face was still flushed, her thoughts lingering on the way your hand had rested lightly on her waist when she struggled to climb into the vehicle. The touch, so gentle yet somehow grounding, had stirred something unexpected within her.
Sam’s eyes softened as she noticed the way Tara’s cheeks flushed. “Tara, seriously. You almost died today.”
Tara swallowed, her voice quiet but defiant. “I know. But… they were kind. And, yeah, cute. So what?”
Sam raised an eyebrow but didn’t press her. She was too relieved to see Tara okay. For now, she let her little sister hold onto that bit of normalcy, even if it was a little misplaced.
———
“It’s not a serious wound, so I’ll stitch you up soon, and you can sign those papers to leave right away,” the doctor explained while preparing the supplies needed for the suture.
Tara nodded absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting. As the doctor continued to explain the mini-procedure, Tara’s mind lingered on you—the paramedic who had been in the ambulance with her. Except, as it turned out, you weren’t really a paramedic at all. You’d been calm, kind, and surprisingly attentive, and she couldn’t help but wonder who you really were.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Tara blurted out, breaking the doctor’s explanation mid-sentence, “but I was wondering… the person who came with me in the ambulance, where are they?”
The doctor stopped and glanced up from her tray of instruments, arching a brow. “The paramedic?”
“Yeah,” Tara said quickly, though the word felt wrong now. “I think they said their name was Y/L/N?”
A flicker of recognition passed over the doctor’s face, and she gave a small, distracted nod as she went back to arranging her tools. “Oh, Doctor Y/L/N? They’re not a paramedic. They’re a physician here—just happened to volunteer to ride along because we were short-staffed tonight. They’re probably somewhere checking on patients. It’s been a hectic shift.”
Tara blinked, caught off guard. “They’re a doctor?”
“Mm-hm,” the doctor confirmed, her tone clipped. She seemed more interested in finishing up quickly than continuing the conversation.
Tara leaned back slightly, letting the information sink in. That explained a lot—your confidence, the way you handled her injuries so effortlessly. And yet, it raised more questions. You hadn’t mentioned being a doctor. Did you always downplay yourself like that? Or had you been too focused on helping her to say more?
She suddenly realized how disappointed she felt that you weren’t here now. She had hoped to see you again, maybe even expecting you to stitch her up instead of someone else.
“I didn’t know,” Tara murmured, almost to herself.
The doctor glanced at her briefly but said nothing, clearly eager to finish the suturing.
Tara hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Do you know where they might be?”
The doctor sighed softly, not unkindly, but with the weariness of someone who had been asked too many questions in one night. “Probably somewhere in the ER. If you’re that curious, you can always ask at the nurses’ station when you’re done here. They’d know.”
Tara nodded slowly, a faint flicker of determination lighting in her chest. “Thanks.”
As the doctor began stitching her up, Tara resolved to find you before she left. There was something about you she couldn’t shake—a quiet confidence, a warmth she wasn’t used to. She wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, but she knew she couldn’t leave without at least trying to see you again.
After the doctor was done with stitching Tara up, she gave a curt nod to both Tara and Sam—instructing them to sign the discharge papers at the reception area.
Tara slid off the exam table, feeling a little unsteady but determined. Sam was already holding the clipboard, scrawling her name with a tired sigh.
“Finally,” Sam muttered. “Let’s get these signed and get out of here. I need sleep after the night we’ve had.”
Throughout the chaos radiating from the ER, the fluorescent lights reflecting off the sterile white walls, Tara couldn’t help but feel a familiar weight pressing down on her chest. The organized commotion—the beeping monitors, hurried footsteps, and faint voices of medical staff—was a sensory overload, but it wasn’t unfamiliar.
She was back in a hospital, back in a place that should’ve meant safety but instead brought memories of pain, fear, and helplessness.
As Tara sat in the sterile room, the familiar hum of machines brought a tightening in her chest. It was the same feeling she had a year ago in Woodsboro—vulnerable, alone, barely holding on. Her memories of that night still haunted her, but now, there was something different. There was someone there, not Ghostface, but someone who’d held her hand through her panic. Someone who had treated her with quiet care.
Her breathing quickened as flashes of that night replayed in her mind: the sharp sting of the knife, the searing pain of betrayal as someone she’d trusted turned out to be her attacker. She remembered the sterile room, the aching loneliness, and the constant terror that Ghostface might come back for her.
Back then, her body had been broken, her wounds fresh, and her spirit barely hanging on by a thread. She’d woken up to the chilling realization that she was alone in her fight for survival. No one had been there to hold her hand, to tell her it would be okay. The only certainty she’d had was that Ghostface was out there, waiting for another chance to finish what he’d started.
Her breath began to quicken.
At first, Tara thought it was just the anxiety tightening her chest, but soon her breaths became shorter, raspier. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead as her lungs tightened painfully, and her hands instinctively went to her chest. Her vision blurred at the edges as panic set in.
Amid her inner turmoil, Sam’s voice cut through the chaos. She noticed Tara’s breathing immediately—the rapid, shallow gasps, the slight trembling of her hands. It was all too familiar.
“Tara?” Sam’s voice was sharp with worry as she turned toward her sister. When Tara didn’t respond, her panic rose. “Can someone get my sister help? Please!” Sam called out, her voice wavering with desperation
——
You were in the middle of tending to an elderly patient, Mr. Day, who had been complaining about lingering back pain. You listened attentively, nodding as he spoke.
“It’s like a knot that won’t go away,” the man grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in the bed.
“I understand,” you said calmly. “Let’s take a look—”
Before you could finish, the commotion outside the room drew your attention. A pleading voice rang out, urgent and strained.
You glanced at Mr. Day apologetically. “Just a moment, Mr. Day. I’ll be right with you.”
“Get me some pain meds while you’re at it, would ya?” he grumbled, waving you off.
You nodded absently, already moving toward the hallway. As you stepped out, you saw the same girl in the ambulance—Tara, sitting in a chair, hunched over, her hand clutching her chest as she gasped for air. Her sister, Sam was beside her, frantically looking around for help.
Your pulse quickened, but your movements remained calm and deliberate. You approached quickly, crouching down beside Tara.
“She’s having an asthma attack,” Sam said, her voice trembling. “She doesn’t have her inhaler.”
You nodded, assessing Tara’s condition with practiced ease. “I’ve got this,” you said to Sam, your voice steady and reassuring.
“Tara,” you said gently, drawing her focus to you. “I’m here to help, okay? I need you to trust me.”
Her wide, panicked eyes met yours, and she nodded weakly.
“Sam, can you grab a nurse and ask for an albuterol inhaler with a spacer, now?” you instructed firmly. Sam didn’t hesitate, running toward the nurses’ station.
You turned back to Tara. “I need you to try and slow your breathing. I know it’s hard, but I want you to follow me. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
She tried, her breaths ragged and uneven, but her chest remained tight. You kept your voice calm, unwavering. “That’s it. Slow and steady. You’re doing great.”
Her trembling hand suddenly reached out, finding yours. Her grip was weak but desperate, her fingers curling tightly around your own. The gesture startled you for only a moment before you gently squeezed back, letting her know you were there. Your touch was warm, a contrast against the cold sterility of the hospital. The firm pressure of your fingers felt grounding, pulling her back from the brink.
“It’s okay,” you said softly, your voice soothing. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone in this.”
Moments later, Sam returned with a nurse who handed you the inhaler and spacer. You quickly attached the spacer and held it out to Tara.
“Okay, Tara, put your lips around this, nice and tight,” you instructed, your tone firm but kind. “When I press the inhaler, take a slow, deep breath in and hold it for as long as you can.”
Tara nodded weakly, following your guidance as you administered the first puff. She inhaled deeply, her grip on your hand tightening momentarily before easing while her other hand covered yours that was holding the inhaler. You repeated the process, encouraging her to take another measured breath.
As you continue to console her, Tara’s chest heaved, each breath catching in her throat like jagged glass. The room spun less violently now, though the fluorescent lights still pressed on her like a weight. Your hand was steady against hers, a tether in the storm. Breathe, Tara. Just breathe. She closed her eyes, focusing on their words. The chaos around her dulled—a faint buzz instead of an overwhelming roar. Slowly, her breaths deepened, her fingers unclenching from where they gripped the edge of the stretcher while the other was focusing on your thumb that was soothing her hand.
After a few moments, her breathing began to even out, the tightness in her chest loosening bit by bit. Her shoulders sagged as the panic ebbed, replaced by relief.
“Better?” you asked softly, watching her carefully.
Tara nodded, her breaths still shaky but deeper now. “Yeah,” she managed, her voice hoarse.
You didn’t let go of her hand just yet, giving it one final reassuring squeeze. “You’re okay now,” you murmured. “Just keep taking it slow. You did great.”
Tears welled in her eyes, though she quickly blinked them away. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Sam’s hands clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms. Seeing Tara like this—struggling to breathe, barely holding it together—hit her like a punch to the gut. She wanted to scream, to yell at the doctors to move faster, but all she could do was stand there, useless. ‘I promised I’d protect her,’ she thought, her jaw tightening. ‘How the hell am I supposed to do that when she’s falling apart like this?’
Sam crouched beside her. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” Her voice cracked, barely a whisper. “I can’t—I can’t lose you, Tara.”
“I’m fine now,” Tara murmured, her voice steadier.
As you stood, handing the inhaler to Sam, you offered a parting reassurance. “Keep this with her, just in case. She’ll need to rest for a bit, but she’s stable.”
Sam looked up at you, gratitude shining in her eyes. “Thank you. Really.”
You nodded, smiling softly before turning back to Tara. “Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
——
You followed the Carpenter sisters to sign their discharge papers, the quiet hum of the hospital filling the comfortable silence between you. Tara, walking just a step ahead of her sister, glanced over her shoulder at you.
“I didn’t know you were a doctor. I thought you were a paramedic,” she said, her voice soft but curious.
You chuckled lightly, the sound warm and unguarded. Tara’s heart fluttered at the sound, and it scared her a little—how someone she barely knew could affect her so much.
“Sorry about that,” you replied with a teasing smile. “Didn’t think my job title mattered much when you were, you know, trying to breathe.”
Tara let out a small laugh, the tension from earlier easing. “Fair point.”
The brief exchange brought a faint blush to her cheeks, but she pressed on. “Honestly? I don’t really care about the title anyway,” she admitted, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Whether it’s a doctor or a paramedic, you’re still helping people when they need it most. That’s what matters, right?”
Tara’s gaze lingered, and for a moment, you felt exposed, as though she could see right through you. Heat crept up your neck, and you looked away, pretending to check your watch. Why was she looking at you like that?
Her words made you pause for a moment, glancing at her with a faint smile. “Exactly,” you said. “That’s how I see it, too. It’s not about the title—it’s about making a difference. As long as I’m helping someone, I’m doing my job.”
The sincerity in your voice struck a chord in Tara. She found herself studying you—the way your eyes softened as you spoke, the calm confidence in your stance. Passionate, compassionate, smart, and…cute, she thought, her heart skipping a beat.
Sam, who had been quietly observing the interaction, cleared her throat. “Well, thanks, Doc, for everything. We’ll let you get back to saving lives now.”
You gave a small nod, flashing them a kind smile. “Take care, Tara. And you too, Sam.”
"Thanks," Tara said quietly, her lips curling into a faint smile.
You nodded, feeling your words catch in your throat. Why did you suddenly forget how to speak? You managed a quick, "Anytime," before busying yourself with the clipboard in your hand.
As you walked away, Tara found herself staring after you, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Great, she thought, her cheeks heating. Now I’m going to be thinking about them for the rest of the day.
 Tara’s gaze lingered on you, a mixture of lingering vulnerability and something softer—an unspoken connection that hadn’t been there before. Her chest felt lighter now, the immediate panic subsiding, but she couldn’t shake the way your calm, steady presence had steadied her in the chaos.
By the time Sam and Tara finally hopped into a cab to head home, Tara felt a mix of exhaustion and disbelief settling over her. She slumped into her seat, exhaustion weighing her down. The night had been chaotic, leaving her reeling from everything that had happened. But then it hit her—she hadn’t done the one thing she’d been meaning to since she was first under your care.
She hadn’t gotten your number.
“Fuck.”
She wanted to thank you properly, to say (and do) something more than the rushed gratitude she’d managed back there. But now, the opportunity had slipped through her fingers. Her lips pressed into a thin line. No, she thought, determined. This isn’t over. Her mind was made up. She didn’t know how, but she was going to find you again. And next time, she wouldn’t leave without your number.
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a/n: Hi hehehehe will post pt 2 in a few weeks
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marvelwitchergilmore · 5 months ago
Text
Let Me Prove It
Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> After months of grieving for Logan, he proves to you he's not going anywhere.
Disclaimer: Descriptions of death, blood, reader goes through grief of losing Logan. Angst, sadness, some fluff. There is a happy ending. Illusions to smut towards the end. Not Proof Read.
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You could remember the day you fell in love with Logan Howlett. 
It had been a rainy afternoon. Nothing grand had happened that day. The kids had been in classes all day, most exams were happening all week but by Friday, they’d all be over for the semester. There was stew, heating up on the stove, and you had been reading your book. 
At least, you’d been trying to. 
Often, your mind would wander off on its own and only half way through your train of thought would you realise you had boarded the wrong train and it was already moving. And just like a flash of a meadow, snapping past one of the compartment windows, you discovered you had feelings for Logan. 
And watching him walk through the backdoor only a moment later, confirmed your thoughts. 
“What’s wrong with you?”
Your train came to a halt and you snapped up, focusing on reality. “What?”
Logan grumbled. “Nothing. Dinner ready?”
“Almost. Storm’s looking for you, by the way. She wants to know if you can cover her class next week. She’s got a doctor's appointment and no one’s available.”
Logan still had his back turned as he looked in the cupboard for something. “Sure. What class?”
“History. What are you looking for?”
Logan didn’t fully answer you. He just mumbled a noise before pulling a small box out from the back and closing the door. Turning around he opened it up, took a cookie out before offering it to you. 
“She got a lesson plan?”
Looking down at your book, you dog-eared the page. Sometimes, you’d use a bookmark but considering most of them would disappear without a trace and leave you fending for yourself to find your page again, hours after you’d read it, you gave up on them. 
“Yeah, she’s already left it in your room.”
“Of course she has.” Logan took another bite of his cookie and rounded the kitchen island. 
Your gaze followed him. Mostly out of curiosity. You and Logan were friends. Not best friends. But good friends. Well…
Good enough friends. 
Could you really be in love with him?
Reaching up into the top cupboard, he brought down the set of bowls and took half from the top. 
“You take the rest.”
And for the next ten minutes, you both laid out the table in time for dinner. 
Then you watched as he helped some of the younger kids with their hot meals. Despite all of his grumbling and his small protests when it came to calling him the best baby-sitter. 
Logan was good with kids. 
Yep. 
You were in love with Logan. 
And just like how you could remember the day you fell in love with Logan, you could also remember the day he died. 
It had torn you to pieces. 
It still did. 
It had been on a mission. You’d all faced worse before. And yet, somehow, nobody was prepared for what was about to happen. Everything blew up. Quite literally. You had been helping some of the kids to safety with Storm and Scott. Scott had left half way through, running to find Jean and help her. Storm had given him cover, as well as the kids. 
And once you knew the kids were in safe hands on the jet, you ran back. 
Only, when you got to the top of the hill, having skidded to a halt only to catch yourself on a rotting tree, you looked down to see for the first time, the image that would be forever imprinted in your mind. 
Logan and Jean were at the bottom. Scott had made it just in time to hold his girlfriend back when Logan took the brunt of the attack. It sent him flying and when he fell to the floor, your gut twisted. 
Usually, he’d get up. 
But something was off. 
He wasn’t getting up. Not as quickly, anyway. 
And when he did, an attack came sooner than anyone else had expected. 
Straight through his stomach and a second through his side, Logan was impaled to the tree before being torn from it, sent flying forward with the tentacle branches before being pulled off and sent flying to the ground. 
You remembered screaming his name along with the others before running forward. Storm had made it there before you, but you were the first on your knees beside him, trying to check for any healing that was starting. 
It wasn’t. 
You heard the muffled voices of the rest of the team in your ears, fighting against your own heartbeat as you looked down at Logan. He was bleeding out and fast. 
The bodies beside you disappeared and followed after the attacker and soon everything became…
Silent. 
The ringing in your ears had stopped, your ears had gotten used to your own heartbeat, and you tried your best to focus on Logan. 
His eyes were closed. Begging him through your own tears for him to open his, you took his hand. Feeling for his pulse, it was weak. And getting weaker. 
“Logan…please. Please don’t do this.”
Then your hearing focused on his heartbeat. Each beat took longer to come after the other until finally, with one weak squeeze of goodbye to your hand, Logan died. 
The hours that followed after that became a blur. 
The man you loved but had never told had died in front of you. You had heard his heartbeat stop. You had felt his last goodbye. He never got any last words. Just one last touch. 
And every night that followed after that, you re-lived it. Over and over and over again. Each night, the same. Logan. The branches. The blood. The pulse. The heartbeat. The touch. The silence. 
Sometimes you’d wake just as he touched your hand, the ghost of a feeling left on your palm as you woke. 
The others never bothered to ask. At least, not after the first time you had told them. The Professor had gathered you all in his office after everything had happened. And all you could think of was that Logan’s body was lay, lifeless, underneath the school. 
He had asked you what had happened and, with your arms folded and your eyes on the ground, you answered him. 
“He wasn’t healing. There wasn’t anything I could do. He died,” you explained before looking up at the Professor and giving him Logan’s time of death. “May I go now? I want to make sure the kids are okay.”
The Professor excused you and you left as quickly as you could, the door slamming a little louder than you had meant. 
And for the next two months, you…kept yourself busy. 
People talked about Logan, they were determined to keep his memory alive. But they didn’t have to go to bed at night, just for his memory to die again. Each morning, you seemed to wake up earlier than usual. And with the feeling of Logan’s hand against yours, you busied yourself as best as you could. 
Grading papers, alphabetising the library, cleaning every possible surface including the ceilings, constantly doing the laundry. Weeding out the garden, planting some new flower beds. Fixing the creaky wooden board in the hallway, painting the doors and wooden boards between the windows. Trimming the bushes, scrubbing the pots (even the old ones that weren’t in use anymore). 
You did anything and everything you could. Mostly to keep your mind busy but party because you hoped, if you tired yourself out enough, you might have caught a break. Made it one night through without re-living Logan’s death. 
But all of that changed one afternoon when you were called to the Professor’s study. 
Where you came face to face with…
Logan. 
Everyone was confused. 
Apart from the Professor. 
And throughout the meeting you remained quiet. Obviously, everyone was angry at the fact the Professor had kept such a big secret. 
“We didn’t know if it would work and we didn’t want anyone to have to re-live their grief.” The Professor explained. “It was a shot in the dark.”
“How is this even possible?” Storm asked as she sat down. 
“It seems Logan’s healing abilities were simply weakened. He needed help to heal. Medical help that not I, nor I’m afraid even you, Jean, could give him. There is a doctor I know, based in Alberta. She helped boost Logan’s healing factor and made sure that whatever had weakened him was no longer in his system.”
There was a little more explaining to do, but you could feel yourself drifting from the conversation. You just kept looking at Logan as he stood by the window and the Professor’s desk. 
He had his back turned when you had walked inside, the others all looking confused and annoyed, having to wait for you before they got their explanation. 
He had died. 
You had seen him die. 
You had felt him die. 
And yet, there he stood. His hands in his pockets, looking around the room, breathing and living as if nothing had even happened. 
Not long after all the explanations, everyone got to voice their opinion and you came last. Everyone looked at you, including Logan. 
And all you wanted to do was run.
To him or away from him, you couldn’t quite tell. 
So, with a breath, you forced a half smile and nodded. “It’s good to have you back. Professor, may I go? I’ve got a class that’s about to start.”
“Of…of course. I would have thought-”
Reaching for the door, you looked back. “See you round, Logan.”
Just before you closed the door, you heard Storm announce her way to Logan to give him a hug. But even the Professor couldn’t concentrate on that because he couldn’t help but notice there was something different about you. 
Of course, he’d noticed you’d been keeping yourself busy. Missing out on family dinners, eating yours when you found the time later on in the evening, cleaning up the classrooms after hours, doing a little touch ups here and there with a smaller paint can and paintbrush. 
Little did he know, you had just been filling in the spots you had missed the day before. 
But he had figured you had been like the others. Itching to hug Logan. Being glad he was alive and breathing. 
Instead…
You had barely said two words and had left as soon as you could. 
“Are you okay?” Storm asked you later that night when you were cooking dinner. 
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Storm lifted herself onto a stool opposite you. “I don’t know. You just didn’t seem…excited about Logan being back.”
“Of course I’m excited he’s back.”
“Then would it kill you to show it?” Storm asked, half jokingly. “Here, let me help.”
You shook your head. “It’s okay, I’m almost done.”
Storm moved her hands away from your chopping board slowly. “Okay. Are you sure you’re okay?”
You smiled. “Ororo, I’m fine. Scouts honour. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
You shrugged, forcing your mind back to reality. “Nothing. It’s just been a long day, s’all.”
Later that evening, you found yourself alone in your classroom. The others were down the hall having dinner but you had found yourself something to do. You could have gone down but whether out of habit of the last two months or fear, you didn’t wish to join them. 
Your appetite had already been worse for wear over the last couple of weeks. If you were sat at the table, across from Logan, you wouldn’t have been able to even think about eating. 
So, taking another bite of your sandwich, you turned back to your essays. 
Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Logan looked around the table. You were missing. 
“Whose turn was it to cook tonight?” Logan asked. 
“Y/n’s.” Jean told him. “She’s been making most of the meals lately. Guess she just got the cooking bug.”
“But she’s not here.”
Jean shrugged it off. “She’ll probably get some later.”
“Where is she?” He asked as he went to stand. But Jean stopped him. 
“Oh, no. Stay. Come on, Everyone needs to catch up.”
“Catch up on what?” Logan asked. “I’ve been in a hospital in Alberta for two months.”
“Please, just…stay. Besides, Y/n’ll appear when she wants. She’s probably busy.”
And after a little bit more convincing, Logan stayed. You’d left so abruptly that morning, he questioned if you even wanted to see him at all. 
It continued like that for a week. 
At first, Logan tried to convince himself you weren’t avoiding him. But as the week went on and he began to see less of you inside his routine, he knew you had to be. 
And then he began to notice things. 
Everything seemed cleaner than when he had left. And brighter. Fresher, even. The doors had been given a paint job. Despite it being dry, he could still smell the aroma of fresh paint in the air. The halls were less creaky when he walked down them. The cupboards were tidier. He could find his cookies with ease now. 
And despite the fact he didn’t read all that much, he knew the library had changed. Even the books that no-one ever touched. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen near them. And one of his personal favourites – a book he tended to read around winter, where the cover was falling off and the pages were falling apart – had been binded to look like new.
So, taking action into his own hands, he went to look for you. 
And it wasn’t long before he found you. 
You had escaped him when he saw you planting fresh flowers in the garden, and you had escaped him when you had brought in the groceries having used Storm as a distraction for you to slip out of the kitchen once everything was away. 
But he had found you in the library. 
Once again, you hadn’t come to dinner, making up an excuse that you needed to work. And Logan knew for a fact you hadn’t left to come and get your dinner yet so, he brought it to you. 
“Thought you might be hungry.”
You looked up but Logan had already heard the change in your pulse. 
“Oh…thanks. You can just leave it there.”
And he did. 
“You’ve got to eat at some point.”
“I will,” you looked back up at him. “Soon. I promise.”
This was the longest conversation you’d both had since he got back. So, he took a seat across from you. 
“What are you working on?”
“Work.”
Logan smiled. “Funny.”
Then the silence washed over you both. But he didn’t want it to stick. “Y/n?”
You hummed a response. 
“Can you look at me?”
Your heartbeat seemed to jump and you took in a discrete breath. Finally seeing your face, Logan smiled. 
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve not been avoiding you.” You looked back at your work. 
“Yes, you have.”
“What makes you say that?”
Logan gave you a list. “The constant work, the avoidance of dinners, the silent treatment. Did I do something?”
You shook your head. “You haven’t done anything, Logan.”
“Then can you look at me when you tell me that so I might believe you.”
Finally, you looked at him. 
“Tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on.”
Logan asked again. “What’s going on?”
You laughed, nervously. “Nothing’s going on. Logan, I’m fine.”
“Are you? Because you’ve been avoiding me since I got back and- what? What is it?”
You laughed again, except this time you didn’t know how you’d describe it. 
“‘Got back’ you repeated his words. “You say that as if you left for a vacation. You died, Logan. Or did you forget that?”
“No. Y/n. What’s going on?”
You shook your head and packed away your things as quickly as you could. “Forget I said anything. Thanks for dinner.”
“You didn’t even eat-” Logan watched you walk away from him again. 
He’d rather have you fight him than avoid him, so he pressed on. 
“Talk to me.” Logan followed after you. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. It’s late, Logan. Go to bed.”
“Only when you do.”
“What?” You asked. 
“Your bedroom, it’s upstairs, down the hall from mine. In the opposite direction. The only thing this way is your classroom.”
“I’ve got to finish grading.”
“It’s almost midnight.”
You shrugged. “What teacher doesn’t get enough sleep?”
“Something is going on. Something has been going on. For a while. Please,” Logan begged. “Just tell me what it is.”
You stopped in your tracks. “Do you really want to know what it is?”
“Yes.” Logan nodded, stopping in front of you. 
“Okay then, I’ll tell you.”
And you did. 
“I watched you die, Logan. I heard your heart stop. I watched as blood pooled out of your body with no way for me to stop it. Even after three scalding hot showers, I still had your bloodstains on my skin, under my nails and on my clothes. Every night when I close my eyes, I re-live it. Everything. Every tiny detail. And the silence afterwards…it’s deafening. Sometimes I wake up, still feeling the pressure you put into my hand. Sometimes it’s still there hours after I wake up. I had spent every single day keeping myself busy, finding extra work for myself, just to make sure that I don’t start daydreaming about the waking nightmare I had to watch you go through. I had spent the last two months going over and over in my head what I would say to you if I ever saw you again. But I could never bring myself to do it, because I had watched you die. I had felt you die. So, please. Forgive me if I’m not jumping with joy because I can miraculously forget what happened, like everyone else.”
Logan let your words wash over him. No one had told him. He had a sneaking suspicion they hadn’t because even they didn’t know. Maybe they never asked. Maybe they just hadn’t noticed. 
Gaining back your breath, you went to turn away. 
“Goodnight, Logan.”
Closing your classroom door behind you, you silently locked it and pressed your back against it feeling your entire body start to shake. Slowly, your legs went from underneath you and you lowered yourself to the ground by sliding down the door. You tried your best to squeeze your tears back into your eyes with the heels of your hands, but nothing could stop them. 
Not now. 
Not when you had just admitted the truth to the one man you never thought you would see again. 
Three times Logan turned back to your classroom door, ready to walk inside. But he didn’t know what he would say. 
So he waited. 
Back in his room, he waited to hear the door to your room close. 
And after two hours, he finally did. 
And before he knew it, his feet were carrying him towards your door. Only, he stood there for ten minutes, unsure of what to do with himself. 
At some point, he finally knocked. 
Turning off the tap by the sink, you hung up your flannel onto the radiator bar and dried off your face when you heard the soft knock at your door. 
There was only one person who could have been up so late. 
He knocked again after a minute or two. 
And you opened up the door. 
Whatever Logan had just semi-prepared in his mind, slipped away. He was going to say something. But looking at you, standing in front of him…all words failed him. 
And the longer he stood in front of you, the louder the reminder came to you that he wasn’t dead. He was alive. He could be shot with twelve live rounds and the bullets would pop right back out of his skin. His claws would flare out and he’d be Wolverine. They’d retract and his skin would heal instantly. There would be no evidence that anything had ever happened. 
Then six words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them. Before even your brain could register the thought. 
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”
Logan felt his chest crack and his heart impale with pain. 
Pushing the door open a little wider, his arms engulfed you in an embrace that would forever be imprinted on your soul. Your own arms wrapped around him, trying to remember the feel of him both physically and spiritually in case the day ever came where you truly would never see him again. 
That if this was going to be your only memory of him, you could never, ever forget it. 
Lifting you up in his embrace for a moment, Logan walked further inside your room, kicking the door shut with his foot. Even if no one else was awake, he didn’t want to risk anyone walking by. Clearly, no-one else knew what you had been living through in your nightmares. And he didn’t want anyone else to share this moment between himself and you.
“You spared me the pain of being alone.” Logan whispered into your hair. “I was less scared because you were there.”
“I couldn’t have left you.” 
Your tears were back to rolling down your cheeks. “I’m sorry about everything you had to go through.”
Logan softly kissed away your tears, wiping the others away. 
You took in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”
Logan shook his head. “You saved me. You stayed with me.”
“But-”
With both your eyes closed, and Logan’s, you felt his forehead touch yours as his hands cradled your cheeks. “I’m real, Y/n. I’m alive.”
You felt Logan take your hand and press it to his chest, over his heart. His heartbeat was mostly steady, if a little quick. Spreading your fingers across his chest, you felt it rise and fall with his breathing. 
“I’m alive,” he kept repeating. “I’m alive.”
Logan’s breath was drawing closer to yours. “Logan…”
“Let me prove it to you.”
And you let him.
Capturing your breath in a kiss, Logan remained soft at first. He didn’t want to scare you. He didn’t want you to jump and run away from him like you had done only a few hours before in the library. 
But then you kissed back. 
So he moved his hands through your hair and over your body until you were pressed against him as close as you possibly could be. 
Your own hands pulled him in closer by his neck whilst the hand he’d placed over his heart remained fixed in its position. 
Logan was proving to every sense in your body he was real. That he was alive. Almost counteracting the memory that had been drawn from a waking nightmare. 
And as he lifted you up, your back soon pressing against the wall, you and Logan knew he would be spending the rest of the night doing exactly what he told you he wanted to do. 
Prove it to you. 
As morning rolled around, you felt a warm body next to you, tangled not only in you but also your sheets. 
Logan. 
His arms practically caged around you, you recalled every single detail from the night before. Your argument in the hallways, the classroom, the knock at the door, the hug, the kiss, the proof. 
And then, you felt yourself, for the first time in months, give a real smile. 
Lowering your head, you buried yourself in between Logan’s chest and your bedsheets, feeling his arms tense at your movement, holding you in the bed without a way of escape. 
And as your body reacted to his touch you realised something. 
For the first time since his death, you hadn’t had a nightmare. You hadn’t seen his death play on repeat inside your head. And the touch you were feeling wasn’t in your hand but rather all across your body. 
Parts were aching with a soreness you never quite knew was possible and later when you would look in the mirror, you would find fingertip bruises by your hips, love bites leading down your hip bone and on your inner thigh. Smaller ones were also dotted around your collar and neck, but a rather prominent one was yet to be left by the crook of your neck from behind where Logan’s lips would find themselves before you got into a fresh shower, Logan joining almost immediately. 
But until then, you’d revel in the feeling of Logan’s constant heartbeat against your hand, and for a moment your lips as you kissed his skin. Before he woke up and proved to you time and time again how real he was and how much the memory that had plagued you for two months was something that, although wasn’t easy to forget about, could become something of a distant memory. 
And for the rest of your lives, he would make sure to do exactly that.
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just-an-anon-reader · 2 months ago
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The Forgotten Sister
Pairing: Ekko x Fem!Reader
Tags: Minimal use of Y/N, no specific description of the reader, friends to lovers, CW blood, CW injury, CW, violence, CW guns, TW death.
A/N: Soo I just couldn't wait! My brain was goin into hypersimp
Prologue — Chapter II
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Chapter 1
It's been seven years since then. You've grown and changed. Granted, your leg remained weak, leaving you limping, but the rest grew strong. Responsibility tends to have that effect on the people who bear it. Almost immediately after Ekko founded the Firelights, group consensus made you the resident saw-bones.
How? You hadn't the slightest idea. You did, however, have a lingering suspicion that Ekko had a hand in it. Especially with his vastly exaggerated recounting of the time you popped back Vi's dislocated wrist after she thought it would look cool to punch a concrete wall with her bare knuckles. Although you initially accepted the role reluctantly, you performed it in great stride. Applying everything you knew from your own experience as a sickly child while learning the rest from tomes Ekko would you bring every now and then from their scavenges. You grew to become a pretty skilled makeshift doctor. From common colds to bullet wounds, everyone entrusted their lives to you. Ekko, most of all. 
And today was supposed to be just another day as a makeshift doctor. 
Just beneath a set of branches on the firelight tree stood your infirmary. Big enough only to house ten patients at a time, it was considered one of the largest areas in the hideout. It might not have been the prettiest, made up of strewn-together sheets of steel and wood bolted at the seams, but it did just fine. Inside, standing in front of a row of cabinets, assumingly counting the stock of medical supplies, was you. Your lab coat swayed with the gentle breeze that drafted in from the open doorway. The wooden floorboards slightly squeaking as you leaned against your cane. Mind adrift to the events from earlier that morning. 
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"You be careful out there, Ekko. Salve and bandages can only do so much," you say, stuffing his right jacket pocket with supplies.  Bandages, salves, ties for bleeding, pain meds... were you missing something?
"You make it sound like you haven't saved lives with those," he chuckles.  
Noticing the subtle trembling of your hand, Ekko reaches for it. Pausing your mission to stuff his pocket with the whole infirmary and instead giving it a gentle squeeze in the hopes of comforting you. It always worried you every time they went out on missions. They never ended cleanly. Some would never come back. While others would end up rushed into a cot in the infirmary. Their blood soaking the floor, staining it red. It was never a pretty sight. 
"Salve won't magically close bullet wounds or weld back hacked-off arms," you bite back, returning his comfort with your own. 
"Just... come back home. In one piece, preferably," you say, looking up at him. 
"We will, Firelight," he replies, gently bumping his forehead against yours. Closing his eyes as he breathed in the scent of you. Antiseptic and lavender. Weird, but uniquely you. 
You did the same. Basking in his warmth, in the feel of him. Letting the butterflies flutter in your gut as you felt the tips of your ears flush. After a moment, you step away from each other. Confident and resolute. Ekko gave you a firm nod before walking away... 
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"-C! DOC!" A voice boomed, snapping you out of your reverie with a squeak of surprise. 
A man stood beside you. He had large wing-like ears and a cut pink button nose that looked out of place on his gruff face. Scar. 
"Geez! You scared me! And when did you get here?" you say. 
"I've been calling for you since I got in here. Get your head back on your shoulders. You got a few to patch up. Nothing serious this time, " he said as three boys from the group started filling the space. 
You saw to them, one by one. A couple of bruises, some cuts, a nick or two from a grazed bullet that'd need a few stitches. But nothing too serious. Good.
"What happened out there?" you asked, cleaning away the filth and gunk that stuck to the dried blood on one of the boy's shoulders.
A hush fell over the conversation. Confused at the sudden silence, you turn your attention to the chimeran. Scar had that look. The one you've gotten used to since the situation with Silco started to escalate. Started to turn more... violent. When it began to become... personal.
Jinx...
"I see, and Ekko?" you ask as you grab a pack from the cabinet. 
"'Course you'd ask about him." Scar teased. Earning a glare from you. "He's fine. Just finishing up. I'm sure he'll come over soon." He says, walking away, his tone not any less teasing. 
You could only scoff at his antics. For such a rough and gruff person, his penchant for teasing certainly takes some getting used to. Focusing on the task, you tenderly clean the area around the wounds. Expertly stitching and bandaging with a quick and skilled hand. Before long, all three boys lay fast asleep on their cots. Ice towels on their bruises and bandaged arms or legs angled away to keep them from snagging. Satisfied with your work, you started cleaning up. Throwing away bloodied gauze and used needles while saving the rest for future use. After all, supplies down here in the under city don’t come cheap. Just as you were about to put away the last pack, Ekko's voice called to you from the entrance of the infirmary. 
"Firelight! Get over here. There's something you need to see," he said, tone urgent. Almost... somber. 
Worriedly, you hobbled to him as fast as you could, a difficult task when you're also trying not to trip over your cane. 
"Hey! What's wrong? You hurt?" you ask, hand on his shoulder, nudging him left and right as you inspect him for any wounds he may or may not be hiding from you. 
"I'm fine, I'm fine... but there's someone else you should see," he said, placing a hand on yours on his shoulder. His eyes shifted to something to his right, then back. Pointing. 
"Who-"
You felt your breath catch and the wobble in your knees. There stood a young woman. With wild pink hair that glowed where the sun would hit it. And blue eyes that sparkled as they looked at you. She looked tired and haggard. Like she hadn't had enough sunlight in years. But that face... you knew that face. It may have aged over the years, but it was still... hers. 
"Vi?"
"Hey there, shortstack. But I see you aren't so short any more. And, I guess it's Doc around here, huh?"
With a stumble, you shuffle towards her. The thunk of your cane against the hardwood floor being the only sound between you two. You stop in front of her at arm's length. Slowly, nervously, you reach out to her, hand trembling as you carefully cup her cheek. It was warm, it was soft, it was... real.
"You're... real?" you whispered.
"I sure am," Vi whispered back. Her own hand reached out to cup yours. Thumb gently rubbing circles on the peak of your cheek.
"You're not a nightmare? Or some ghost here to haunt me 'cause you're still bitter about that time I popped your wrist back wrong?" you said, wet hiccups mixing with blobs of tears gushing out of your eyes. Sniffling as you felt snot beginning to drip from your nose. You always were a messy crier. Pulling you in, Vi embraces you tightly, letting you sob against her shoulder. Drenching the fabric of her jacket with tears and snot.
"I missed you, baby sis. So, so much. I'm so sorry I left you alone. It'll never happen again. Ever." Vi says, holding you tighter. Feeling her own tears beginning to fall, staining your white lab coat gray.
"I missed you too..."
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despressoslatte · 2 months ago
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not the zoey you wanted (two)
pairing: zach maclaren x female reader!
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summary: you waited all weekend for your boyfriend, Zach, to call or text, anything, to explain why he had just went and ghosted you when you were supposed to go with him on a family ski trip to meet his parents, his sister Avery, and his cousin, Miles.
content warnings: angst; victims of catfishing; miscommunication trope
masterlist | < one
⟢a/n: if you want me to add you to the taglist for this fic send me an ask! and remember to like and reblog if you enjoy!
ᯓ⟢
Zach watched the girl on his driveway, drive away. The dumbfounded look didn’t leave his face as everyone stood there confused as to what the hell just happened.
“I knew it,” Miles muttered, looking over at Zoey from his spot on the porch. “You’re not Zach’s girlfriend.”
The accusation rang loudly in Zach’s ears, almost hurting his head as everyone’s heads snapped from Miles to Zoey. She stood there with a shocked look on her face, like a deer in headlights. Zach looked to the car that was turning off of his street now.
He whispered out, “Y/N…” He looked at Zoey, blinking a few time as his memories were slowly coming back. 
Zoey looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t.
“What are you talking about?” Zach asked his cousin, needing someone to put together the pieces of the puzzle because the pieces he kept trying to make fit wouldn’t connect.
“She’s not your girlfriend, dude,” Miles reiterated, pointing at Zoey with a shake of his head and an unbelievable scoff. “I thought when you introduced her to us… you just got a thing for Zoey’s.”
“Miles, honey, what are you talking about?” Connie asked, looking between the three college students with a look of bafflement splayed across her face.
Miles walked down off the porch, phone in hand, and jammed the screen towards Zach’s face. He was looking at a photo of his own Instagram page, full of photos of himself and the girl who just drove away nearly in tears.
Zach looked between the phone and Zoey, who stood there biting her lips as tears filled in her eyes.
“Look… I…” Zoey started to explain, and everything from the ski trip started to make sense. The signs Zach didn’t realize at first.
ᯓ⟢ THE SKI TRIP
Zach MacLaren was confused, to say the least. Ever since that car hit his bike and he went flying onto the pavement outside the bookstore, everything felt… weird, out of place almost. When the doctor had said that he was experiencing some form of short term memory loss from his concussion, all he could be was glad that was all that it was, and that Zoey was there with him. Though, that felt weird, too. Especially when he could’ve sworn he called her something other than Zoey and was confused why she was confused about the ski trip. 
Hadn’t he invited her to that, or is he forgetting about that, too? Sign one.
At dinner, Miles came through the side door that lead to the kitchen, and Zach watched the way he paused for a second when he saw Zoey standing in the kitchen with his mother and father. Zach just smiled, getting up from the couch and placing a hand on the small of her back.
“Miles, this is my girlfriend, Zoey,” Zach introduced them.
Miles’ eyebrows furrowed downwards, not that Zach knew why. Maybe he thought she was out of his league, which honestly, he felt like she kind of was. They shook hands and when Zoey walked away, Zach caught Miles pulling his phone out quickly, looking down at it and then back up to where Zoey had sat back down in the living room a couple of times. It was like he was comparing something, not that Zach knew what. 
He just figured after his amnesia concussion, he wouldn’t understand a lot of things for a while. 
“Why are they all named Zoey?” he heard Miles ask under his breath, and while that also confused Zach, he didn’t question it. Sign two.
At dinner, his mother, Connie, made the comment, “I thought your name was Y/N?”
Zach tilted his head to the side, confused where that name came from. It did sound familiar. Zach’s dad, Matt, reached for his wife’s hand.
“It’s her middle name, remember, honey?” Matt reminded Connie. “Zach told us her friends back home call her Zoey, but she goes by her first name at their university.”
Zach nodded slowly, as if being reminded of that conversation while his mother said, “Right!”
He looked at Zoey, seeing a small awkward smile on her face. So, her first name was Y/N… He remembered that… didn’t he?
“You guys can just call me Zoey like the people back home, though,” Zoey interjected sheepishly. “I’m still not fully… used… to being called… Y/N…” Sign three.
“Zoey it is,” Matt smiled in agreement.
“So, Zoey, how’s Zach doing in tutoring now?” Connie asked.
“Knowing Zach? Horribly,” Avery teased, earning a mocking “ha ha” from her older brother.
“Tutoring?” Zoey asked, confused as she ate the food on her plate.
Zach just smiled, putting an arm around the back of her chair. “See, my grade in English is so good that I don’t even need tutoring anymore,” he said proudly. “Not that she doesn’t still help me. But as girlfriend, not tutor.”
“Right, English,” Zoey laughed awkwardly, grabbing her water to chug from so she didn’t need to answer any other question she wouldn’t know the answer to. Sign four.
ᯓ⟢ THE MACLAREN HOUSE
“I’m just surprised Avery didn’t say anything either, since I’m sure she’s seen photos of Zoey on your page,” shrugged Miles as he put his phone back in his pocket.
Avery was waving her hands over her neck, as if to tell Miles to shut up.
“You have an Instagram young lady?” Connie shot her daughter a disapproving stare. “You know you are not allowed to have social media.” Then to Zach. “You know she isn’t allowed to have social media.”
“She doesn’t,” Zach shook his head at the change of topic. “I made her give me the password, changed the password, locked her out, and now she can’t use it at all.”
All eyes fell back onto Zoey after the short detour. She had already explained why she did what she did—at first, it was to not stress him out like the doctor requested. Then, it was selfishly to get closer to Miles. Zach felt a pit in his stomach knowing he was actually feeling some sort of connection to her before this, but now he just wanted to throw up.
God, the look on your face when you had walked away… You thought he… Well, technically he… Oh, god.
Zach really looked like he was about to be sick, his head throbbing as the photos of you and Zoey’s story started to job his memory.
“I cheated on my girlfriend…” he muttered under his breath, aching and hating himself. He glared at Zoey. “You made me cheat on my girlfriend,” he spoke louder, a scoff leaving his throat. “How could you do that to me? To her?”
He could barely hear her excuse over the thoughts racing in his head over how he was going to make this one up to you.
“You’re the girl from the bookstore who called me an idiot,” it dawned on Zach.
“No, no,” she shook her head. “It was the name of the book… You’re not an idiot, Zach. You’re so smart… and so sweet… and I didn’t expect to like you, but I… I felt like we really connected this weekend.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Zach said with raised shoulders, pointing out into oblivion for emphasis. “Whatever you felt for me this weekend, and whatever the hell connection I thought we had… none of that was real! Me… Me and Y/N… we were real… are real, if I can…”
If he can fix it.
“I’m sorry, I-I…” Zoey tried to find the words to explain.
“I… I need to get back.”
He had no classes on Mondays, but there was soccer practice later that evening. He planned to eat lunch at his parents’ before hitting the road, but now he needed to get back to you. God, his phone was broken, and you were going to spend the next two hours driving thinking he cheated on you.
He grabbed his luggage, looking at his parents for a second.
“I gotta go,” he said quickly.
“Good luck,” Avery called out after him as he got to his car, absentmindedly throwing his luggage into the backseat.
He needed to fix this. He needed you to know this was all a misunderstanding, a miscommunication really. That… that Zoey Miller was just a catfish who pretended to be you to a freaking amnesia patient. That he remembered clearly now.
It didn’t matter that his phone was broken when he got hit by that car. He knew the route back to your on-campus apartment like the back of his hand. He turned the radio on and just drove.
three >
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eggfriedricedwasian · 2 months ago
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Give me psychopathic killer Tim Drake in which Gotham and several other super hero infested cities all gain a new serial killer they have dubbed as "Smiler".
Why? Simple, when the killer leaves the crime scene, the body is totally and entirely mutilated, skin grafts made and missing, organs and bones missing here and there and it's no specifically chosen ones either, the rest of the organs and bones are strung up in the place of murder. But the reason for the name Smiler is because the head is decapitated and left in perfect condition other than a smile cut along the face in a Joker-Jeff-The-Killer-esque way that leaves even the unscared scared.
Why would Tim do this? For fun. He's very morally gray, kids are where he cuts the line, but everyone else for no reason at all? It's fun to him. So maybe he was hit a few times in the head too many with electrocution(This can be from regular crime fighting or Joker Jr or League of Assassins you decide), he finds it fun to do all of this methodically and leave people in shambles trying to figure it out.
But how is he able to do this? He, without anyone's knowledge and for fun, got a Ph.D and Doctorates in med school to be a licensed surgeon and what not. He still regularly performs surgery, he works as a surgeon 4 days of the week and no one knows because they think he's working at WE but really it's basically all Tam, he's just there to be the face and to provide good info. He's already reformed the board so he can do whatever.
Would the hero community ever find out? Up to you. Here's how I would picture them finding out;
Some girl gets cornered the bats, then starts rambling for whatever reason about them when they're trying to help her.
"If I want understanding I'd go to Batman.
If I want empathy I'd go to Nightwing.
If I wanted a presence I'd go to Robin.
If I wanted emotional stability I'd go to Red Hood.
If I wanted support I'd go to Spoiler.
If I wanted the truth I'd go to Black Bat.
But if I wanted someone murdered, I'd go to Red Robin."
And the pieces don't make sense, because who is this woman and how does she know or why does she think Red Robin, Batman's literal in-every sense-but-blood mini-me, is a murderer? He follows Batman's moral code like a god.
But then they start looking further into his life. As CEO, they find he's not working there often, only 3 days a week, specifically for meetings. They dig deeper and find that somewhere between now and his quest for Bruce he lost his spleen and got a Ph.D and Doctorates. When confronted he said it'd be good especially for on the field when there's no one to step in and help. Experience and trust in the field is a good thing, like Harley Quinn.
Knowing that, Bruce being paranoid starts learning a bit more about surgery, and then something brings up the Smiler killings. Bruce looks at the things about the Smiler's way of killing and compares it to a surgeon. The way of opening the body, removing skin, removing the organs, no inexperienced person without a surgical background would be able to do this. They would have destroyed the organs. Or at least damaged them in someway.
Bruce starts watching Tim closely, because the time he got the license in surgery is around the time the Smiler started killing.
It was inly confirmed when one slip up gave him away. A threat.
"I will surgically remove your organs and make it seem like an organ donation."
He said that to a Justice League member after getting into a dispute with them.
That started the questions. The first one was a trick question, it was supposed to only scare Tim into confessing. But Tim wasn't scared, he knew they didn't know and he knew this was a scare tactic, he knows interrogation. Yet he still confessed. He was happy to. Smiling like a psycho and everything.
"It started as a joke. Joke? Well, practice. A small time thug, a human sex trafficker. Red Hood was gonna kill him anyways, so I thought, "why not do it myself?", you know? I had the license, the experience, I needed more of the latter though. So I just started opening him up. Removing things little by little. It was fun. The decapitation and the smile was my little thing though. The missing organs, donated to science and to people who need them. So can you really say I'm doing something completely wrong?"
The detail Tim went into caused a few to lose their stomachs.
Tim, the psycho, was enjoying this.
(This could definitely play a part in Tim becomes Damian's Joker to his Batman. I saw a post about it somewhere.)
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dead-boys-club · 6 months ago
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†  do you love me? : the fatui.
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❥ scenario: their mute s/o asking if they love them. ❥ no triggers ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ requested. [ my pending isn't updated, it's a liar. ]
you had thought over it for a while, curious as to where you actually stood with your lover, no.. partner? did they love you? as your curiosity grew to a sickening need for an answer, you decided to write your question down, small and neat; 'do you love me?' before approaching to hand the paper off.
❥ la signora.
as she took the paper from you, you'd be unable to read her expression, something that was awfully common. you couldn't help but become slightly anxious as a few moments of silence went by, giving her the time to process the question. you had learned that signora was a very complex someone, someone who was guarded and difficult to read, but you had grown to understand those things about her. when she finally looked to you, there was a warmth in her gave and she set the paper down, now folded in half. she wouldn't have much to say, a simple 'yes' being whispered, full of sincerity and adoration for you, even if her expression didn't match. she reached out to cup your cheeks, the touch tender with her gloved hands, and she leaned to press a kiss to your forehead. it wasn't easy for her to express how she felt but she would never allow you to live with doubts on how she felt for you.
❥ scaramouche.
unlike signora, scara's response would be heavily complicated. he would be reluctant to take the paper to begin with, his expression immediately showing discomfort and clear distaste. love had never been something that worked out for him very well, nor did he understand it as much as others - love was one of the reasons his life had been filled with betrayal and manipulation. he was wary of emotions to begin with but love held a different kind of weight - it was almost like the word alone left a bitter taste at the back of his throat. he would quickly narrow his sharp eyes, masking the vulnerability with agitation. 'what kind of stupid question is this?' it would have hurt you had their been any malice to his tone. even as he crumpled up the paper and tossed it away, you could see some type of softness slipping through the cracks. it would take time but after a few minutes, he'd glance to you, gaze softening slightly. 'i don't know,' he admitted, voice quiet as he decided to be honest, 'i don't know if that's something i'm capable of but.. i don't hate you, if that's what you're worried about.' for scara, that was the closest thing to a confession you'd be getting and you understood and accepted that. besides.. he was a lot better with his actions than his words, even if he didn't realize.
❥ childe.
childe is always happy to accept your notes, be it during full conversations, asking him about missions, and so forth. with that happy expectation, he took the paper, only to falter briefly before a warm smile formed. 'of course i do,' he answered without hesitation. he'd wave the little piece of paper between two fingers before setting it down, 'this is a silly question.' he wasn't being demeaning, just pointing out what he thought - hoped - was obvious to you. his arms would find their way around you, hugging you close to lift you off your feet with a soft chuckle. 'why would you even feel the need to ask that?' childe had always done everything in his power to make sure his love was open and honest, being hidden from no one because he never wanted you to doubt him. he would actually wonder if he'd done something wrong that lead you to asking but it would be put on the back burner for later. 'you're one of the most important people in my life,' he whispered as he set you down, pressing a kiss right below your ear, 'and, i'll always love you.'
❥ dottore.
you knew such a question could leave you with an aching heart but you'd prepared yourself before hand, knowing the day you agreed to be the doctor's lover, it may not be in such a manner. as he took the paper from you, he read over it with an impassive expression, which you'd expected nothing less. minutes passed as he worked through your question. love was not something dottore considered valuable - emotions, in general, were considered a hindrance to him. love, most of all, was the worst there was. the paper was set down without an answer as he returned to his work, leaving you lost and hurt, despite knowing this would be the outcome. you began to turn on your heel to leave when he glanced to you. 'love is a trivial thing,' he said coldly, almost bitter. 'it's a distraction and a weakness.' you stopped yourself from frowning. contrasting his words, as you looked closely at him, you found something - a hint of conflict that told you there was more he wasn't willing to acknowledge. dottore never was one to answer things directly but his actions - his way of keeping you close, keeping you safe and granting you attention in ways no one else was allowed - that was enough, you decided.
❥ arlecchino.
she would take the paper from you and take no time in reading it, her expression calm. she isn't brought to emotional response easily - you were sure you'd never seen her flustered. she set the paper down with a thoughtful hum before looking at you, her gaze gentle. 'love isn't something i give easily or take lightly,' she answered, steady and serious, 'but if i didn't care for you deeply, you would not be here.' in another of situation or context, you'd have taken the words as a threat but instead, they calmed any frayed nerves. arle's way of showing how she feels is protective and pragmatic, something that doesn't rely on cheap words. she wouldn't give flowery words or pointless gestures - but she would make sure you felt valued in your relationship. 'yes, i do.' she finally admitted, her tone leaving no room for doubt, even as she turned away from you. 'you are mine, and i protect what's mine.'
❥ columbina.
immediately going off of your facial expression, she knew she didn't need to read the paper to know the type of question you had, a gentle, knowing smile forming. columbina is the most attuned to emotions, her own and others, especially yours. she would quickly be able to feel the vulnerability and doubt behind your written word. without hesitation, she collected your hand in her own, making sure to hold your gaze. 'yes,' she said easily, 'i love you more than words will ever be able to express.' columbina leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. 'you needn't doubt that,' she whispered, letting your hand go only to pull you into a hug, her eyes closing, 'i always will, beloved.' her love was soft, open and nurturing, a presence that never ceased and you almost felt guilty for doubting her. she had done her best to make sure you felt cherished and adored and she would continue to do so.
❥ pantalone.
he wouldn't question why you were suddenly handing him paper but he would be curious, eyes shining with interest as he read the question. panta is a man who sees emotions as secondary to his ambitions and goals, especially with his wealth and power. however, he wouldn't hesitate to admit that you, are different. this may be something that lead you to thinking you were more of a possession than a lover - he would be smart enough to figure out where the doubt blossomed from. folding the paper neatly, he set it down and let a thoughtful smile show, turning his attention to you. 'love, like any valuable asset, is not something i take lightly,' he began, head tilting slightly, 'but you, my dear.. are more precious than anything to me.' reaching out to you, his fingertips brushed over the apple of your cheek. 'yes,' he answered directly, 'i love you, and i will make sure you never doubt that again.' like the others, panta's love is often expressed through actions - keeping you comfortable and safe, your happiness being of utmost importance to him.
❥ il capitano.
he would take the paper without a second thought, reading the words slowly and feeling the weight of them. it would take him a moment to find how to answer, knowing if he was careless, it would bring you unnecessary hurt. love has never been something capitano was accustomed to, not when his life was outlined and defined by duty, loyalty and the cold fate of a soldier. he briefly wondered if love was something he could feel or understand. would he know if he was in love? after what seemed like an eternity, he would slowly set the paper down and look to you, speaking just as careful. 'love is a concept i have little experience with,' he began, his tone apologetic, 'i do care for you, deepy.. your wellbeing, your happiness. i want to keep you safe.' his answer would be straightforward, almost as though he was searching through his own words. he wished he could use the same pretty, poetic words he'd heard in passing, but that wasn't possible. 'if that is love,' he nodded slowly, 'then, yes, i do love you.' he wouldn't be as confident in those words as he wanted to be but he felt as thought it was as close to what you wanted to hear as he could get.
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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago
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Title: Nurture.
Paring: Yan!Geto Suguru x Reader x Yan!Gojo Satoru (JJK).
A Continuation Of Nursle.
Word Count: 11.0k.
TW: Dub/Con, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Imprisonment, Mentions of Pregnancy/Childbirth, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Implied Semi-Public Sex, Forced Marriage, Panic Attacks/Disassociation, Mentions of Stalking, and Nonchronological Timelines. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
[Part One] [Part Three]
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You were never supposed to meet Geto Suguru.
It’d been a misstep in the never-ending trudge that was the cosmic timeline; a mistake on behalf of the universe that left you on the doorstep of his temple, glancing between the rustic entryway and the scrap of paper one of your student’s mothers had slipped into your hand a few weeks prior. “They should be able to help with your little problem,” she’d explained with a wink, a knowing glance towards your stiff shoulders, the dark bags under your eyes. “One visit, and you’ll feel like a teenager again.”
You’d smiled politely and told her that you’d give it a try and shoved her note into a drawer below your desk to be swiftly forgotten. You went to a doctor, then a chiropractor, then a psychologist, then briefly considered making an appointment with a fortune teller before finally relenting and deciding that you were, in fact, desperate enough for a miracle healer. It took three trains, two taxis, and more than a handful of helpful strangers, but you’d arrived at the messily scrawled address in one piece. You could still turn around, try your luck with another specialist, another bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills – sane solutions that sane people fell back on when they encountered problems that sane people had. You could go back to your flat, your ever-growing pile of ungraded tests, and pretend you’d never been here at all. You could do the thing that crazy, desperate people didn’t do, and you could leave.
You took a deep breath, braced yourself, and crossed into the entryway.
An attendant caught you as soon as you’d stepped inside. He was male, middle-aged, wearing the most strained, plastered-on smile you’d ever seen as he bowed his head to you. After a moment of nervous delay, you returned the gesture. “I—Uh, a friend of mine pointed me in your direction,” you stuttered out, doing your best to speak through your anxiety. “She said your head priest could…”
You trailed off, struggling to find the right words. Thankfully, the attendant cut in before you could make yourself look like a complete moron. “Geto-sama?” Impossibly, his smile widened even further. “You’ve come to the right place - he’s a truly miraculous healer. He’s seeing another poor, suffering soul at the moment, but you’re free to wait outside of his sanctuary.”
With a quick nod and a few words of thanks, you were swiftly taken to and abandoned in a small sitting room that, you could only guess, led into the innermost shrine. You sunk into a remarkably uncomfortable wooden chair and managed to sit still for all of three seconds before looking for your next distraction. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to find.
Two girls sat on the other side of the room; sisters, you guessed, if not twins. One (Mimiko – it’d still be a few days before you learned her name) was perched on the edge of a chair identical to your own while the other (Nanako) sat cross-legged on the floor between her legs, fiddling with a hand-held console as her sister tried and failed to braid her hair. You couldn’t help yourself – a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you watched Mimiko clumsily fumble with the messily divided strands of hair, her frustration written clearly across her expression. You’d always been comfortable around kids, as much as you never wanted to have your own. You didn’t know much about healing priests or mystic illnesses, but you knew how to handle a struggling seven-year-old.
When she looked away from her work, seeming to notice you for the first time, you offered her a bright smile, a quick wave. “Having a hard time?” you asked, gesturing towards her messy handiwork. “I can show you a few tricks, if you’d like.”
There was a long moment of hesitation, a quick look shared with her sister. “I understand if you don’t trust my credentials, but…” You fished out a few spare hair-ties out of your pocket: bright pink and adorned with equally garish bows, the color and design enough to make Nanako’s eyes light up. One of your more absent-minded students tended to forget hers, and you’d gotten into the habit of carrying a healthy stockpile on her behalf. “I did bring my own supplies.”
A few minutes later, you found yourself dutifully combing out Mimiko’s hair while Nanako admired her new pigtails. They seemed reluctant to talk to you, but you did your best to make polite conversation – well, as much as you could with two stand-offish grade schoolers. “Are you two waiting for someone?”
Mimiko pursed her lips, but Nanako wasn’t so shy. “Our dad,” she filled in, the kind of pride only an idealistic child could have for a parent heavy in her voice. “He hates monkeys.”
“Oh.” You did your best to sound surprised, rather than confused. “Does he work for the temple?”
“Mhm – he’s really strong, and super important.” She waited for you to num in acknowledgement, then went on. “You’re here to see him, right? He can definitely help you, if you are.”
Your hands faltered, a lock of Mimiko’s hair slipping out of your loose hold. “Your father’s… the head priest?”
Nanako nodded enthusiastically, and for the first time, Mimiko chimed in, “He’ll probably get rid of your creepy friend.”
This time, you stopped moving entirely. “I’m sorry, my friend?”
Mimiko glanced over her shoulder, moved to speak, but the screen door leading into the shrine slid open before she could answer you. It wasn’t an attendant, this time, but a man in monk’s garb with hair that reached past his shoulders and a grin less strained but just as artificial as that of his attendants. Geto Suguru, although it’d still be some time before you knew to call him that.
His dark eyes found you first, before moving to his daughters. “Girls,” he started, tone more playful than chiding. “Are you bothering my guests?”
The twins exchanged a long, weighty look before Nanako pushed herself to her feet and hurried to her father’s side. With a sigh of mock exasperation, he leaned down, letting her whisper something into his ear as you rushed to finish Mimiko’s braid. You couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it was enough to earn a pair of pursed lips from Suguru, a languid shake of his head. Without responding to her, he straightened his back, already ushering you inside. You took a deep breath, then followed him into the shrine.
He made no attempt to put on a show of false hospitality. Wordlessly, he left you loitering in the center of the very empty, very large room while he stepped onto a raised platform and collapsed onto his side, propping his elbow on a cushioned, stand-alone armrest. This time, when he sighed, it seemed to be out of a more genuine exhaustion, his eyes falling shut briefly as he propped his chin on his fist and brought his free hand to his temples. “I have to apologize for my daughters. If I could watch them constantly, it still wouldn’t be enough.” He opened his eyes, and instantly, you felt the full weight of his stare. If it hadn’t been a feeling you were so used to, it might’ve been enough to send a chill down your spine. “Now, how can I be of service to you?”
You dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to fidget. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping, lately. There’s been this weight on my back, like—”
“Like you’re being watched?”
He spoke confidently, as if answering a question he’d written himself. With your hands clenched into fists at your sides, you nodded. Suguru’s head lulled to the side, his smile taking on a satisfied lilt. “I thought so. Tell me – have you had any scorned lovers in the past? Boyfriends, fiancés, that type of thing?”
“A stalker,” you admitted. “But, he passed a few months ago. There was an accident, and—”
This time, he cut you off with a snap of his fingers. It was brief, barely a flash of movement, but you caught something in the corner of your eye – an amorphous shape perched above your right shoulder, a thousand eyes spotted across its baggy skin and a hundred curling tentacles wrapped around your arms, your chest, your stomach. You shut your eyes, winced, and when you opened them again, the creature was gone and Suguru held a small, pitch-black marble between his thumb and forefinger. He took a second to evaluate it before letting out an approving hum and bringing the marble to his lips, swallowing it whole. In your shock, it didn’t even occur to you to look away.
“These things tend to linger.” It was a meager explanation, but you accepted it whole-heartedly. For the first time in months, you were able to straighten your back, to drop your shoulders, to stand up without a single part of you crying out in protest. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so relieved.
“Thank you,” you nearly gasped, bowing at the waist. “Oh my god, I— I don’t have much money, but—”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask for compensation. Consider this—” A click of his tongue, a roll of his wrist. “—a favor between friends. The most I could ask for is a little of your time, in return.”
You would’ve given him your first-born child, if he’d asked for it. “Of course, anything. I really can’t thank you enough, sir.”
“It’s just— I’ve been trying to find a tutor for my daughters for the longest time, and they already seem fond of you.” For the first time since you’d stepped into his shrine, he sat up, facing you directly. “I understand that you’re a teacher?”
You left the temple a few minutes later, a new number programmed into your phone and a smile brighter than anything you’d worn in years painted across your lips.
~
You moved in with Satoru the same day he met Himari – as much being told to shove everything you couldn’t live without in a bag because you wouldn’t be coming back to your apartment could be called moving. You would’ve fought it more, but he’d been holding your daughter, and you couldn’t take that kind of risk with her. Not again.
Time seemed to pass in slow, thick clumps. Hours would pass in the blink of an eye and seconds would drag on and on and on until you couldn’t stand the idea of pretending you cared, anymore. A nursery was thrown together in one of Satoru’s guestrooms. When you mentioned that you’d never slept so far from her, Satoru cooed and kissed your cheek.
“It’ll be alright, baby. I’ve got enough monitors to last ‘till she’s eighteen. And, no offense, they’re a little more reliable than what you’ve been using.” Another kiss, this one to the corner of your jaw. “Besides, I don’t think you’ll want her sharing a room with us.”
Something pricked at the back of your throat. “I could sleep in here, with—”
“Nope.” He was kind enough to shut you down before you could so much as start to get your hopes up. “Honestly, she should count herself lucky I’m willing to share at all.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Instead, you closed your eyes, and when you found the strength to open them again, the world was dark and your body was cold.
~
Once the novelty wore off, you fell into a steady routine. Once or twice a week, you’d make the trip to Suguru’s temple and do your best to drill seven years’ worth of public education into Mimiko and Nanako while their father saw his unfortunate visitors. They were smart girls, even if they were more interested in your love life than multiplication tables, and when you thought about Suguru had done for you, you couldn’t say you minded spending a few hours of your weekend in a scenic, rural temple surrounded by Suguru’s (sometimes off-putting, but never unpleasant) congregation.
It took two months before you saw Suguru’s composure slip. It’d been a mistake – an accident on your part as much as it was on his – but you hadn’t thought of it in such fatalistic terms in the moment.
You kept your hands in your pockets as you wandered through the temple’s courtyard, stretching your legs while the girls finished a worksheet on long division (chosen by Nanako over English contractions, much to Mimiko’s protest). Idly, eager to give them as much time as you could, you made your way around the inner sanctum’s perimeter, rounding a sharp corner before abruptly coming to a stop.
Geto sat on the edge of the raised porch, eyes closed and his shoulder braced against the side of a support beam. You moved to flee, to apologize for interrupting his meditation, but you noticed his hunched posture, his slightly parted lips, and let out a breath of a laugh, your panic fading into pity.
Ah, the poor thing.
He was so tired, he’d fallen asleep sitting up.
As little as you’d expected to see a grown man sleeping in public, you weren’t surprised. Suguru was always running himself ragged; either hosting guests or holding sermons or running errands on the temple’s behalf, always coming back with a certain weight to his steps and an off-kilter quirk to his smile. With a sigh, you kneeled next to him and after a moment of hesitation, shrugged off your coat, taking care not to wake him as you draped it over his shoulders. Immediately, he relaxed – an ounce of the tension in his shoulders dissolving as he slumped into himself. You’d considered waking him up, but decided against it. Your own months of sleepless nights and never-ending days were still fresh in your memory. You didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on a few precious minutes of much-needed rest.
You heard a screen door slide open, a high-pitched voice call your name from the other side of the temple. You pushed yourself to your feet, but paused, spared another glance toward Suguru. It was a stupid, spontaneous thing to do, you didn’t give yourself time to think better of it before brushing his bangs away from his face and pressing a kiss into his forehead – the kind of kiss you’d give to one of your students in the wake of scraped knees and playground arguments. When he failed to stir, you pulled back and crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to keep yourself warm as you started back to where his girls were waiting for you.
~
Satoru was at your door as soon as the bell rang.
Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you must’ve known he wouldn’t give up old patterns so easily. He loitered in the hallway while your hyper-active students filtered out, slipped inside as the last of the stranglers did their best not to gawk at the inhumanely tall stranger with unnaturally white hair. By the time he crossed the threshold, you and Megumi were the only ones left, the latter dutifully waiting for his daily busy work at the corner of your desk.
Satoru acknowledged him with a click of his tongue, a quick ruffle to Megumi’s hair before he moved onto you. “There’s my pretty girl,” he half-said, half-sung as he slung an arm around your neck, pulling you into his chest. “Had you on my mind all day. Couldn’t stop wishin’ I had your pretty ti—”
You cleared your throat into your hand, nodding pointedly towards Megumi. Satoru’s grin faltered, then collapsed into a pursed-lipped frown. He didn’t say anything, but his thumb dug into your shoulder, his cruel eyes flickering to you over the dark lenses of his glasses. You didn’t need any further instruction. If Suguru taught you anything, it’d been how to get rid of unwanted company.
“Megumi.” You waved him toward you, and despite the mix of distrust and exasperation written clearly across his expression, he stepped forward. Still, you braced yourself before going on. As little as you wanted to associate him with Satoru, to blame him for what Satoru did to you, you hadn’t been able to meet his eyes all day. Whenever you looked at him, you couldn’t help but think about Himari, and whenever you thought about Himari—
“You usually walk home with Tsumiki today, right?” He didn’t, but you couldn’t think of a better excuse. Lately, it was all you could do to put one word in front of another, let alone actually manage to clear away enough of the thick, buzzing static clouding your mind to form an intelligent thought. “You should really get going, before she starts to think you left without her.”
His gaze dropped to the ground. He mumbled something just a breath below audible, and you forced yourself to smile. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I don’t want to leave you alone with him.” His tone was clipped, his eyes narrowed. “He’s… He’s gross, and weird, and you shouldn’t talk to him.”
If he’d been any other kid, if Satoru had been any other adult, you might’ve laughed, chided him for speaking so rudely about his elders. Instead, you only sighed, your smile faltering as you brought a hand to his shoulder. “We’re just going to have a little chat, that’s all. I promise, I’ll be just fine when we see each other tomorrow.” You paused, lowered your voice into something playfully conspiratorial. “Between you and me, I think he’s pretty weird too. Thanks for looking out for me.”
His scowl deepened, but he didn’t protest. After tossing one more glare in Satoru’s direction, he trudged out of your classroom, letting the door slam behind him. You didn’t have time to feel relief or dread or much of anything before Satoru was on top of you – his knee planted between your thighs, one of his hands groping at your waist while the other caught your chin, holding you in place while his lips crashed into yours, the kiss mess and open-mouthed and desperate. “The brat’s annoying,” he muttered, as he pulled away. “But I can’t say I don’t see where he’s coming from. If you’d been my teacher, I don’t think I would’ve been able to stop myself from bending you over your desk ‘n earning a little extra credit.”
A wave of nausea washed over you. You couldn’t stop yourself from buckling forward, but Satoru had already moved on, found his way to the side of your neck. “Please, don’t talk about my students like—”
Your voice gave out as he bit down – burying his teeth in your throat in less of a love-bite and more of an effort to eat you alive. You barely managed to stop yourself from crying out, but panic quickly swallowed whatever pain you might’ve felt. It’d leave a mark, one you wouldn’t be able to hide, not completely. Against your will, your mind flashed to Megumi and, if you’d been just a little weaker, you might’ve collapsed, passed out while Satoru lapped the blood now trickling down your throat. If you’d been just a little luckier, you might’ve fallen apart entirely.
Your hands shot to his hair, and Satoru let out a throaty groan. His hands fell to your thighs, and before you could so much as think to struggle, you were laid across your desk, folders and worksheets pushed aside in favor of trapping your body underneath his. “Always wanted to do this,” he muttered into your shoulder, already pulling your skirt to your waist. “Might have to go into teaching, too – just so you can return the favor.”
He might’ve gone on, but you were done listening.
You would have to request a change of classroom, tomorrow morning.
~
Nanako returned your coat to you a week later, rolling on the balls of her feet and grinning from ear to ear.
You saw Suguru more often, after that.
Granted, not too often, and never for very long. He was still a busy man, and most of your interactions were limited to minute-long conversations as you found each other heading in the same direction, a few niceties exchanged as you dropped Nanako and Mimiko off at the door of his shrine. He never struck you as overly guarded, but you could count the number of times you’d heard him speak about himself on a single hand. If it hadn’t been for his girls, you probably would never have learned his given name.
Winter had begun its swift and relentless approach, and you found yourself standing outside of the temple’s gates, watching the sun slip below the horizon and debating if it would be worth it to cough up the cash for a taxi, rather than dragging yourself through the labyrinth that was public transportation in the dark. As you checked your phone for the dozenth time, you caught a flash of movement in your peripheral and glanced up only to find Suguru – changed out of his monk’s garb and into a plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants that made him look more like an exhausted college student than the head of his own temple. He nodded to you by way of greeting, and you flashed him a smile. “Waiting for someone?”
“Something like that.” You looked back to your phone and sighed. “I might have to make our next session a little earlier. I forgot how dark it could get and, well, you know what it’s like in the city.”
You withered, but Suguru only brightened. “Let me give you a ride.”
“Are you sure? I’d hate to—”
“Please, (Y/n).” You could see why he had such a dedicated congregation. When he spoke, it was impossible not to listen. “Just think of it as a favor between friends.”
You wanted to refuse, to tell him not to waste his time, but a streetlamp buzzed to life somewhere above you and the last trace of your resolve crumbled. A few minutes later, you were in the back of a sleek, black car – Suguru sitting next to you and his driver hidden behind a tinted partition. More time than you would’ve liked passed in tense silence before you, more motivated by discomfort than gratitude, broke the quiet. “I was surprised when I found out Nanako and Mimiko were homeschooled.” Before he could respond, you realized how it must’ve sounded and tried to backtrack. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just—you’re always so busy, and they’re such bright girls. I’m sure that, if you ever did want to get them enrolled, they’d do very well. It’d free up a lot of your time, too.”
You thought you saw him wince, but it could’ve just been a trick of the light. By the time you turned to face him properly, his expression was unreadable – his lips pulled into a thin line and his dark eyes focused on some unseen point in the distance. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” he admitted, before letting an airy sigh. “But… I made a lot of bad choices, when I first took them in. The were a bad situation, and I was young and stupid, and I— I think I might’ve fucked things up. For them, at least. I probably would’ve ended up in the same place eventually.” Another sigh, a lengthy pause. When he went on, his tone was heavier, his usual confidence greatly diminished, if not absent entirely. “…you don’t think I made a mistake, do you?”
You took a second to think, letting your eyes fall to your lap. “I don’t,” you said, finally. “The girls seem happy, and you’re providing for them. They won’t have normal lives, but—” You hummed, shrugged. “Who does?”
He seemed to relax, the harsh edges of his expression dulling. His eyes shifted to you. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”
This time, you didn’t hesitate at all, shaking your head with a slight smile. “Consider it,” You let your tone dip into something teasing and secretive, raising your chin the way he tended to when talking to guests and members of his congregation. “a favor between friends.”
Your showmanship earned a dry chuckle, a softened gaze. After a long beat, he asked, “Would you mind if I, uh…” He trailed off, tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Would you mind if I tried something?”
Now, it was your turn to laugh. You’d assumed he was in his mid-twenties, but he must’ve been younger – he was acting like a teenager. “Go ahead, Suguru.”
Despite your reassurance, he stalled for a few seconds before, more than a little stiltedly, bending at his waist and resting his head gingerly on your lap. It was an awkward position, the back of the car too cramped for him to lay down properly, but his eyes fell shut and after the initial shock faded, you could only smile, raising a hand and combing your fingers idly through his hair. When you pulled the elastic band holding his half-bun together out of place, letting his hair fall loose over your thighs, he didn’t protest, only going that much more limp on top of you.
You two stayed that way for the rest of the trip; his head in your lap, your finger carding through his hair, the only noise that of traffic and the occasional muted hum when your attention started to drift. It was only when his driver pulled onto the curb in front of your complex that Suguru raised his head, blinking himself back into consciousness. You turned to let yourself out, only to feel him take up one of your hands – his fingers soon intertwined with yours. You didn’t have time to ask him what he was doing before you felt him cup your cheek, before you felt his mouth against yours.
The kiss was gentle but warm, shallow but lingering. He held you there, his lips barely yours, for a second, then another, before you snapped out of it and pulled away – your disgust as immediate as it was it was self-concentrated. If Suguru felt the same way, he hid it well. You could only make out the slightest trace of hurt in the down-turned corners of his parted lips.
He started to say something, but you were already rushing to apologize. “I’m sorry, Suguru. You’re a sweet kid, but I’m—” You forced yourself to laugh, the noise jolting and strained. “I’m nearly twice your age.”
He pursed his lips. “I don’t care how old you are.”
“Exactly.” You shook your head, dragging a hand over your face. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been more clear about, I don’t know,” You gestured vaguely. “—everything. And I should really—”
Again, you moved to leave, and again, he stopped you. This time, he caught you by the wrist. “I’m not a kid.” You tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened. You felt something in your forearm begin to ache. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you how serious I am.”
“Absolutely not.” You pried the door open and jerked away from him just in time to stumble out of his car and onto the pavement. You saw his posture straighten, his body tense as if he was going to try to lunge at you, but mercifully, he must’ve thought better of it. His anger was, instead, focused entirely into his unblinking stare, and you did your best to speak in spite of the way his eyes burnt into your chest. “I… I think it would be for the best if we didn’t see each other, for a while. Tell the girls I’m out of town, and—” You swallowed, dryly. “—I think you should get some rest, Suguru. You need it.”
As awful as it made you feel, you slammed the door shut before he could respond. He didn’t try to chase you, but his car hadn’t moved by the time you made it to your flat. With your doors locked and your blinds pulled shut, you watched it until, hours after midnight, you nodded off.
He was gone when you woke up, and you could only hope he’d be mature enough to mind his distance.
~
Satoru’s face was buried between your thighs when you heard his phone ring, his hands curled around your thighs and your body perched on the edge of one of his rarely used marble counters. You would’ve missed it entirely if you’d been a little closer to the edge, if he’d been just a little nosier as he moaned and grunted into your cunt, but you weren’t, and he wasn’t, and the sound of that melodic dial-tone cut through the haze like a knife through fog (relatively ineffective, but still violent enough to draw attention). You straightened as much as you could, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging, gently. “Satoru, I think—”
“It’s not important,” he muttered against your thigh, drawing back just far enough to be audible. “’s probably just the kids. They said they were coming over, but—” He flashed you a smile, bright eyes catching the light. “They can wait ‘till we’re done. I can’t just leave my pretty girl unsatisfied.”
Immediately, the haze stiffened and shattered into a panic-inducing, heart-racing clarity. You straightened, cursed under your breath, but Satoru tongue was already lapping over your soaked slit, the bridge of his nose grinding against your clit as he all-but worshipped your pussy. This time, you didn’t tug, but pulled – doing what little you could to pry him off of you, but all you earned was a throaty whine, his fingertips dug that much deeper into the plush of your ass. His tongue bullied its way past your clenching entrance, curling and thrusting, and it took everything you had not to snap your thighs shut around his head, not to give him what he wanted. “Satoru,” you spat, using the same tone you’d put on for a misbehaving student. “S-stop.”
It was more of an instinct than a decision, more of a reflex than a choice, but either way, it didn’t seem to make a difference. With his eyes blearily focused on your expression, his mouth latched onto your pussy like it was the last thing he’d ever taste, he fucked you open with his tongue until your toes were curling, your legs twitching, your vision burning pure white in a way that made you wish you could give up on sight altogether. He nursed you through your climax until the last of your energy was spent before pushing himself to his feet and slamming his mouth into yours – his teeth cutting into your lips and your taste heavy on his tongue. By the time he pulled away, you were panting and he was wearing that awful, careless grin. You never thought you’d miss Suguru’s calculated smile, and yet.
And yet.
You didn’t have time to be angry. The kids came first – a thought that, if you’d given yourself a chance to linger on it, would’ve been more of a cause for concern. “Go clean yourself up, I’ll take care of the kitchen. Call them back as soon as you’re finished.”
“I love it when you get bossy,” he said, with a dreamy sigh. “It’s hot in a, like, ‘put me over your knee and spank me’ way, y’know?”
Your only response was a quick shake of your head, a repulsed curl of your lips. Satoru only laughed, pecking your cheek and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “They’ll love you. Megumi likes to act shy, but he can’t shut up about you. Tsumiki’ll just be ecstatic to have a baby sister,” he mumbled into your throat. “You wouldn’t break their hearts, would you?”
It might’ve hurt less, if there hadn’t already been two little girls somewhere in Japan who knew that you absolutely would.
~
You called Suguru from the curb in front of your flat, your head in your hands and tears streaming openly down your cheeks. He let it ring once, twice, before answering. You could practically hear the smile in his voice, practically feel the smugness in his tone. “I thought we weren’t talking, dear?”
You swallowed back another ragged sob. “It’s back.”
He was there within the hour – alone, this time, no girls and no driver. You stayed where you were as he let himself into your flat, returning only a few minutes later with a thoughtful hum and a thin frown playing on his lips. “It’s rare, but it does happen,” he started, as he sat down next to you. He was dressed in street clothes, rather than his monk’s garb. Somehow, that only made it more difficult to look at him. “Particularly restless spirits can lie dormant before reappearing stronger and more attached to their living host. A standard exorcism might no longer be enough to banish it.”
You felt something heavy and pointed drop into the pit of your stomach. Calling it 'stronger' was an understatement – you couldn’t believe something so massive, something so awful had ever been attached to you. When you let your mind wander, you could still see its dripping, pitch-black arms writhing over the walls and ceiling of your bedroom, still feel its countless eyes burning into you – a hundred, no, a thousand times worse than it’d been when Suguru had first sent it away. You buckled at the waist, burying your face in your knees, and Suguru rested a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles into your shoulder. You were thankful for the comfort, even if it would’ve taken you another few weeks to completely forget the feeling of his hand around your wrist. “Can you…” You cringed, shrunk into yourself. “Can you help?”
“Oh, absolutely.” If he’d been just a little more cocky, he would’ve been purring. “But I’m afraid it’ll cost you more than a favor, this time.”
“I’ll do anything.”
“I know.” His hand went still, settling on your shoulder. “But I need you to give me something, this time.”
You didn’t hesitate. “Anything,” you repeated, with all the desperation of a sinner laid bare before the altar. “Please, Suguru. Anything.”
“I need an heir.”
You could practically feel your heart split open and shatter inside of you. “…an heir?”
“For the sake of my congregation,” he said, like that explained anything. “We’ll have to get married first, of course. You’ll be taken care of until the child’s born, and then, you’ll be free to go.” His hand fell to your own, squeezing gently. “Or to stay with us, if that’s what you prefer.”
Any other time, the idea alone would’ve been enough to make you sick. Any other day, you would’ve told him that he could have anything, anything but that.
But, in the moment, all you could seem to think about was your flat and the monster inside of it. You felt yourself nod and, before you could take it back, heard Suguru laugh, felt his lips against your temple. “You’re making the right choice,” he muttered, the words nearly lost against your skin. “I love you.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to say it back.
~
Tsumiki and Megumi were asleep in the guest room turned makeshift nursery. Megumi had been slow to warm, quick to hear Satoru introduce you as his ‘one and only’ and assume the worst (which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly wrong), but Tsumiki hadn’t been so stand-offish, and ultimately, whatever concerns an eight year old could have for your safety crumbled under his sister’s desire to fawn over your newborn. You were glad. You didn’t want him to worry about you. That was a mistake you’d made with Nanako and Mimiko. You’d let Suguru give them a reason to care if you left, and then, you’d left.
Your gaze drifted to Himari. She’d always loved attention (a trait you could only assume she’d inherited from her father), and she’d spent most of the afternoon and the entire evening basking in Tsumiki and Megumi’s adoration. Currently, she was sitting in your lap, giggling and clapping her hands together as you idly bounced her on your knee. The sight alone was enough to make your heart soar – any thoughts of Satoru and his wards fading into the background as you leaned forward and peppered her tiny face with kisses. It was a miracle that you loved her at all, let alone as much as you did. Pregnancy hadn’t been kind to you, and it wasn’t until the moment she was born that you could stand to think of yourself as a mother of a child, rather than just the incubator to a cultist’s pipedream. You’d never wanted children, but now that you had one, you couldn’t imagine letting anything in the world take her away from you.
Maybe, if he’d been a little kinder to her, if he hadn’t already had two daughters to spoil and adore, you might’ve been able to justify loving Himari less than you did, might’ve been able to leave her in his care when you pried a window open and fled in the middle of the night. He’d never been cruel to her, but no part of you believed that he wouldn’t have been if she’d failed to do what she’d been made for – if your love for her hadn’t been enough to keep you by his side. Even if you hadn’t loved her at all, you still would’ve taken her with you. No child deserved to be left in the care of a monster like Suguru.
You choose, deliberately, to only think about Himari, to tell yourself that you only ever had to think about Himari. You couldn’t afford to break your own heart a second time.
Choosing not to think about Megumi and Tsumiki proved more difficult.
~
It was a courthouse wedding, the ceremony little more than a few signatures and a hesitant ‘congratulations’ from the officiant. Suguru’s assistant – a blonde woman who looked at you with equal parts sympathy and disgust – acted as the witness. Suguru explained that, after your first child was born, there would be a more elaborate ceremony, something with rings and dresses and flowers that the girls could participate in. You were too dissociated to point out that there wasn’t supposed to be anything after the child was born, let alone something that would leave you that much more bound to him.
You expected him to take you back to your flat, or the villa on the outskirts of the city you’d visited a handful of times when he couldn’t meet you at his temple, but instead, you found yourself standing in front of one of the tallest, brightest hotels you’d ever seen. “It is a special occasion,” he said, as you stared blankly at the entrance. “I wouldn’t be a good husband if I didn’t spoil my wife now and then, right?”
“Please,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “Don’t call me that.”
“Whatever you say, my love.” His smile was giddier than you’d ever seen it, amusement heavy in his voice. “Let me give you a hand.”
The interior was no less agonizing than the exterior. You could feel a hundred pairs of eyes burning into you as you hung off Surugu’s arm, your own legs too weak to be trusted to support you. Rather than relief, dread coiled in the pit of your stomach as he led you to your room – a suite on the highest floor. You considered, briefly, trying to tell him that you were afraid of heights, but decided against it. Even in your own head, it sounded too childish to be believable, and you couldn’t imagine dragging this out for a second longer than it absolutely had to be.
You stepped into the room and were immediately reminded that Suguru had been the one to make the arrangements. A bottle of wine sat in a bucket of ice on a velvet-cushioned ottoman. Bouquets of roses and their disembodied petals had been carefully spread across every possible surface – painting the room with misshapen splotches of bright red. A colorless atrocity of white silk and lace had been laid across the king-sized bed. You got close enough to recognize it for what it was (bridal lingerie, veil and all) before turning away and collapsing onto the foot of the bed, your vision blurry and your heart racing.
You felt your mouth go dry, your throat tighten, but you forced yourself to speak. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the silence. “Am I—” A pause, a distraught glance towards the monstrosity. “Am I supposed to wear that?”
“I might’ve been a little overzealous,” he admitted, stepping in front of you. Slowly, he lowered himself onto one knee, taking your hands in his. “I’ll be gentle, if that’s what you’re worried about. The only thing I want you to feel is pleasure.” He brought the underside of your wrist to his lips. “I love you.”
You couldn’t be sure what it was. How sincere he sounded, maybe, or how young he looked kneeling in front of you, away from his temple and out of his costume. He kissed the back of your hand, and a ragged sob tore past your lips, all the tears you hadn’t been able to shed during the ceremony suddenly beading in the corners of your eyes. As you tried to keep them at bay with your free hand, Suguru’s smile wavered, and for the first time that you’d seen, fell away completely.
He posed the question softly, carefully. You wished he would’ve been just a little more eager to break you. At least, then, you could’ve hated him for it. “…you really don’t want to do this, do you?”
There was no point trying to lie. You shook your head and watched as Suguru deflated. His eyes had always been dark, but in that moment, you could’ve sworn they’d never seen any light at all.
Before you could brace yourself, his mouth crashed into yours with enough force to bruise. You tasted blood, felt his tongue rake over yours; whatever gentleness he’d promised to show you little more than a distant fantasy. As his mouth moved against yours, his hand slipped under your dress – two fingers dragging over your slit through your panties before his thumb found your clit through the thin material and he pushed a rough, impulsive pattern into the sensitive bud. You shrunk into yourself, your hands finding their way to his chest before you could stop yourself from trying to push him away, but Suguru didn’t seem to care, to notice. Your panties were torn away entirely, and like a man possessed, he fell back to his knees between your open legs and started to devour you whole.
Your thighs were pulled onto his shoulders, his hands curled around your hips as the flat of his tongue laved over your slit, teasing the entrance of your pussy and flicking over your clit. He alternated between tracing vague figure-eights into your cunt and lapping up the slick starting to drip from your poor, confused pussy – your exhausted body eager to accept any affection Suguru had to show you, if you could even call what he was forcing onto your affection. You tried to reach for him, to pull him away from, but you failed to so much as make contact before he let out a near-violent snarl, calloused fingertips burrowing into vulnerable flesh as he pulled you that much closer, hauling your ass off the bed and leaving you on your back, your arms crossed over your face and your ankles crossed over his back. You sobbed openly, now, but your disparate cries were interrupted by cracked whimpers and half-swallowed mewls – little, pathetic sounds you didn’t have the strength to suppress. Suguru didn’t stop. Honestly, you would’ve been surprised if he could hear you at all over the sound of his own heady panting, of his tongue fucking into your now-soaked cunt.
You almost regretted not taking him back to your flat that first night – when he kissed you like you were the most delicate thing in the world. If you’d given in right away, he might’ve had the self-restraint to hold back. Or, to try to, at least.
One of his hands left your waist, falling low enough for the pad of his thumb to press into your clit. Messily, roughly, he toyed with the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves as his tongue thrust shallowly into your cunt, curling and splitting apart the hot, clenching walls of your pussy. You felt a deep, full-chested moan reverberate up the length of your spine, and that was enough to leave you tumbling over the edge, to leave your thighs clenching around his head as you came undone on his tongue. He ate you out through the aftershocks, but didn’t stop - fucking you open with his tongue until you’d stumbled through another climax, then another, a mix of slick and saliva soon coating his chin and staining the sheets below you. By the time he pulled away, you were crying not from despair, but overstimulation; pangs of pure heat searing your nerves and leaving your cunt aching for reprieve. You were only vaguely aware of the mattress dipping beside you, of his chest pressing into yours as he kissed you for what felt like the hundredth time. As his lips pressed into yours, you decided that, if tonight was the last time you ever had to kiss someone, it wouldn’t be so bad. Not when compared to the alternative.
“I love you,” he mumbled, and then again as he pulled away, “I love you.”
You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your voice felt like something you were no longer entitled to use; a vague concept that’d been placed at an inconceivable distance by some cruel deity. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Suguru bare his teeth in frustration. Your dress wasn’t so much removed as it was torn away from you, and you couldn’t help but wither without it. Modesty could only count so much when you could still see your arousal coating his lips, but still, it hurt.
With an arm wrapped around your waist, he pulled you into the center of the bed and haphazardly dragged his shirt over his head. You shouldn’t have been surprised. You’d seen his bare arms plenty of times, watched him lift Nanako and Mimiko clean off the ground without so much as a trace of strain, and yet, something inside of you still curled up and died as your eyes raked over his sculpted chest, the corded muscle that seemed to cover every inch of him. More out of shock than anything, you moved to sit up, to put some distance between yourself and a man who looked like he could’ve torn your head off your shoulders on a whim, but he was quick to stop you, to press a palm into your chest and force you back onto the bed. With his other hand, he dragged his pants down just far enough to free his cock and, instantly, whatever desolation you might’ve felt at the sight of his bare chest was multiplied ten-fold.
You didn’t realize you were shaking your head until you moved to speak, your voice shaking and small. “That’s not going to—”
“It will.” That authority – that tone of absolute control – was back in full force. Still, you couldn’t seem to make yourself believe him. “I won’t stop until it does.”
Your heart fell into your stomach as he dragged his swollen, leaking tip over your pussy – the flushed head catching on your abused clit and drawing an airy whimper past your lips. He was, by far, the biggest man you’d ever seen, let alone slept with. As if that wasn’t enough, he was already harder than you knew someone could be – thick, pearly beads dripping from his tip and down his shaft, his more prominent veins almost pulsing as he aligned with your entrance. Even his balls were fucking huge.
Fit for a breeder, something vicious and awful whispered into the back of your mind. You tried to ignore it, but you couldn’t disagree.
Your eyes darted to his expression and met his, already blearily focused on you. You opened your mouth, but anything you might’ve said was stolen away from you as his hips bucked forward and he thrust into you, bottoming out in the same motion.
You’d been right, when you’d tried to stop him.
He was going to kill you.
Already, he was too much. A fresh wave of tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his cock threatened to tear you apart. Suguru let out a raspy groan, his head falling forward and he drew back, pulling out of you until only his head remained in your pussy only to snap his hip and bury himself that much deeper, only to stretch you that much further. “See?” One his hands fell to your lower stomach, the heel of his palm pressing into the soft flesh like he could feel the outline of his cock. He might’ve been able to. You were too scared to check. “You’re a perfect fit.”
There was another grunt, another breathy groan as he fell into an unsteady pace – every thrust brutal and back-breaking. His hands found their way to the headboard, curling around its upper edge as he fucked into you. He didn’t so much find the right spot as find a way to hit every spot constantly, his cock filling your pussy to the brim, leaving you desperately trying to clench down around him to no avail. A high-pitched whine – fractured and pathetic – tore past your lips, and Suguru let out an airy chuckle. “Not gonna be able to get enough of this.” His pubic bone scraped against your clit and you threw your head back, your back arching off of the mattress. Your sensitivity was rewarded with another laugh, a hand brought down just to grope idly at your chest. “I can’t let you out of my sight, from now own. I think I’ll lose my mind if I have to go a day without feeling this perfect pussy wrapped around my cock.”
It was hard to think, let alone piece two words together. Still, you managed to spit something out, fighting to speak above the sound of skin against skin, hips against hips. “B-but, you said— the baby—”
“Fuck the baby. This—” He slapped your clit, his touch harsh enough to make you cry out. “—is all mine.”
A hand around your throat, a new brutality to his thrusts. His grip wasn’t tight, he wasn’t choking you, and yet, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think about anything other than his cock and the feeling of your cunt being split open around it. “You’re mine.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought he sounded relieved. “And you always will be.”
Meeting Suguru had been a mistake. Asking for his help had been a mistake. Agreeing to this terrible deal had been a mistake.
But, cumming around his cock as that final possessive sentiment trickled past his lips was the biggest mistake you’d ever made or ever would make, again.
Your cunt clamped down around him – a vice around his cock. With your fists balled around satin sheets and your legs wrapped around his waist, your body convulsed underneath his, your pussy doing everything in its limited power to milk him dry. You heard Suguru curse under his breath, his hips pushing flush against yours as something thick and searing flooded into your cunt. What little managed to leak out around the base of his cock was caught with two fingers and forced back in; no drop wasted.
With a heavy exhale, Suguru dipped lower, his lips grazing over your cheek, then the curve of your neck. You shut your eyes, letting yourself deflate. It was over. No matter how you might’ve felt, no matter how much you might’ve wanted to crawl out of your skin, it was ov—
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pulled out of you, only to push back in; his rough, punishing pace only made slightly more bearably by the weight of his orgasm.
The next morning, you’d wake up to Suguru’s arm around your waist and a pregnancy test on the bedside table. It’d be too early to tell, but you wouldn’t bother to so much as open the box. Nothing could’ve kept Suguru from trying again, and again, and again in the days to follow.
Come to think of it, you couldn’t be sure if he ever stopped.
~
“How long is this supposed to last?”
Megumi and Tsumiki were walking a few yards ahead of you, stopping to stare into every other shop window before running ahead, and Himari was currently tucked against Satoru’s chest, occupying herself with a thorough (albeit, mostly oral) investigation of the collar of his shirt. You couldn’t cook and Satoru refused to do much of anything before noon, so the only choice left was to chase after promises of crepe trucks and cafes. Your question earned a hum, a glance toward you, but not much more. As little as you liked about Satoru, you were thankful he had such an even temper. Suguru was never so slow to react.
“Forever, preferably,” he answered, with a slight shrug. “Or until I die, at least – sorcerers have a pretty high mortality rate. I’m the best at what I do, but even the strongest ant gets crushed eventually.” He paused, pressed a quick kiss into the top of Himari’s head. “I’ll make sure to leave a big trust fund, though. You’re gonna be living off your daddy for a long, long time.”
You let your eyes fall to the sidewalk. “You don’t have to pretend you care about her. I know you’re only doing this because of him.”
If he’d denied it immediately, you wouldn’t have believed him. If he’d sworn that Suguru had nothing to do with it, if he’d dropped to his knees in front of you, if he’d told you that he loved you, you wouldn’t have believed him. But, in the end, he only pursed his lips, his head lulling to the side as he considered it. “At first, yeah,” he admitted, tracing patterns into Himari’s back. “I heard that he’d gotten with someone and… I got curious. I guess I was a little jealous.” He paused, his tone abrupt going light and sheepish. “I might’ve gone a little overboard, in retrospect – making the brats go to your school and following you around and all. I just wanted to see what kind of person could make Suguru go soft, but then I saw how you were with the little princess—” He lifted Himari above his head, grinning up at her while she spouted happy gibberish. “—and fell for you, head over heels. All I could think about was gathering you both up in my arms and takin’ you home.”
“You make us sound like stray animals.”
“I mean, you kind of are, right?” You jutted your elbow into his side, and he rolled his eyes dramatically. “Okay, okay, you’re runaways. I didn’t know you were so pedantic, (Y/n).”
 He slotted Himari against his hip, his attention momentarily falling away from her as he shot a quick, teasing smile in your direction. “I like you.” His voice was soft, dull – like he was saying something you didn’t already know. Like he was giving something away. “And I want you to stick around.”
“I’m sure Suguru would’ve said the same thing.”
“I’m not like Suguru.” He found your hand, his fingers soon intertwined with yours. “I wouldn’t let you go so easily.”
You opened your mouth, but closed it again just as quickly. Ahead of you, Tsumiki turned on her heel and waved excitedly. She’d picked a café (presumably with minimal input from Megumi); a picturesque little spot with a sun-speckled patio and overgrown garden boxes. Satoru’s hand tightened around yours, tugging you forward, and just this time, you didn’t bother trying to pull away.
~
The man on his knees in front of you was older – his hair receding and dotted with grey. A salaryman, you guessed, judging by his wrinkled suit, the ink stains on his sleeves. You couldn’t see his expression, not with his forehead pressed against the floor of Suguru’s sanctuary, but you could hear the pain in his voice as he pled for Suguru’s help, see the slight tremble in his shoulders. You didn’t have to assume the cause of his distress.
You couldn’t be sure when you started to see the spirits – or, the curses, you mean. It must’ve been around the end of the first trimester; your little glimpses at crooked monsters and mangled beasts solidifying into full, unrelenting exposure. Suguru suggested (after he’d finished celebrating what he would, later on, refer to as the best day of his life) that it might be a symptom of the pregnancy, that carrying a sorcerer’s child may’ve triggered some pocket of laden cursed energy buried inside of you, but you couldn’t help but think of it as some kind of cosmic punishment, even if you couldn’t begin to guess what you were being punished for.
It had to be a punishment, though. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be watching a small swarm of winged, imp-like creatures bite and scratch at the cowering salaryman, each swipe of their claws and nip of their pointed teeth enough to leave ragged, bloody stripes in his arms, his back. You felt bile rise into the back of your throat, but forced yourself not to shut your eyes, to keep your expression one of unbothered neutrality. Suguru would help him, just like he helped you.
As if by way of encouragement, you let your nails scrape over his scalp. After you started showing, the only job Suguru deemed you capable of was that of his new headrest. He took care of everything else – petitioning for maternity leave, moving you out of your flat and into the villa he shared with his girls, rewriting every little aspect of your life to better the role you’d inhabit for the next nine months: his pregnant wife. Currently, he was on his side, on leg bent at the knee and his head propped on your thighs, your fingers threaded through his hair. You’d cringed at the idea, at first, but Suguru insisted that it wouldn’t be an issue. The perks of leading your own cult, you guessed. No one could challenge his authority when he was the only authority they could possibly look to.
After a moment longer than you would’ve liked, Suguru cut off the salaryman’s incoherent rambling with a slight hum. Immediately, the salaryman fell silent, and Suguru let his head lull to the side, leaning into your palm. “Manami,” he started, addressing his assistant. She’d been called in shortly after the salaryman made his entrance. “How long has it been since our honored sponsor’s last donation?”
She glanced toward her tablet. “It’ll be five months this week.”
The salaryman scrambled to apologize. “I—I’m sorry, my store went out of business, and I—”
The corner of Suguru’s lips quirked downward. The entirety of the swarm descended onto the salaryman before you could so much as flinch away.
To say they tore him apart would be an understatement. One second, he was there, bowing in front of you, and the next, little more scraps of fabric and disembodied viscera decorated the floor of the sanctuary. Suguru snapped his fingers and, in an instant, the creatures vanished – leaving behind only gore and the thick stench of copper hanging in the stagnant air. Your hand stilled in Suguru’s hair. You might’ve passed out, if you’d been able to process what you’d just watched.
Suguru took notice of your distress quickly. That, or he just wanted to bask in his kill more privately. “If I could be alone with my wife for a moment, Manami.”
Her eyes flickered to you, lingering for a moment before she bowed her head. “Of course, Geto-sama. I’ll fetch someone to clean up this mess.”
Once she was gone, Suguru rolled onto his back, letting his eyes fall shut. “These fucking monkeys,” he sighed, with a shake of his head. “I swear, they’ll be the death of me. They can’t even seem to die without causing more trouble than they’re worth.”
“You can control them?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific, dear.”
“The spirits.” And then again, with more urgency, “You can control them?”
His exasperation was swiftly replaced with self-satisfaction so potent, you could nearly taste it. “Would you expect anything less from me? Only a handful are strong enough to be helpful, but even pests can be put to good use.”
You felt like an idiot for asking. You felt like an idiot for having to ask, but you just couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “My spirit. The one I came to you for.” It felt like your tongue was coated in salt and ask. “Was he one of the stronger spirits?”
A beat lapsed in silence, then another.
Finally, Suguru let out a long, raspy exhale and brought a hand to your stomach. “I hope it’s a girl,” he muttered, almost absent-mindedly. “I hope she looks just like you.”
You took a single, stilted breath.
When you met your daughter a few months later, impossibly tiny and infinitely lovable and so agonizingly helpless, it would almost be a relief to see Suguru’s face staring back at you.
~
“She has your eyes.”
You heard his voice before you saw his face, but you would’ve known Suguru from aura alone. You froze in the doorway of the unlit nursery, searching for him in the darkness, but Suguru didn’t make himself hard to find.
“Not the color, but the shape.” He was standing next to the cradle, a soft smile painted across his lips and your daughter in his arms. She was sleeping, and you were thankful for it. You’d kept Himari away from him as much as you’d been able to in the weeks leading up to your escape, but even their minimal exposure had seemed crushing, at the time. Above all else, you never wanted your daughter to be able to recognize her father’s face. “Oh, but she must have my temperament. I’ve heard she rarely cries, even with nuisances like Satoru around.”
You’d left your phone in the living room. Satoru wasn’t home and he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning, but maybe, if you screamed, someone would hear you. Maybe, you’d be able to run while Suguru tore them apart, limb by limb.
In the end, it was all you could do to make yourself speak – your voice thin and prone to catching in your throat. “Get out of my apartment.”
“But this isn’t your apartment, is it?” With a quiet, hushing sound, he lowered Himari back into her cradle and turned to face you. “Honestly, if I’d known you were just going to run into another man’s arms, I would’ve been more careful with you. I wonder if you’ll feel more loyal to your husband with a chain around your neck.”
“You manipulated me. You made me have a ba—”
“I loved you.” He cut you off with all the delicacy of a rusty knife sawing through flesh. “I do love you, even if I’m starting to question how much of it you deserve.”
He stepped forward. You wanted to turn away from him, to run, but your body was uncooperative, too rigid to do anything more than shake as he came to stand in front of you. “Can you say it back to me? Just this once.” He brought a hand to your cheek. “I’ll forgive you for everything, if you do.”
You tried to. Not for him, but for your daughter – made expendable by her failure to keep you bound to Suguru. You tried to, but all that slipped past your parted lips was a wordless cry, torn and anguished and far from what he’d asked for.
“No?” He feigned disappointment, letting out an airy sigh. “I guess that’s to be expected.”
He took a deep breath, then rested his head against the dip of your shoulder. His hand fell to your stomach as he spoke into your skin.
“Maybe, after we have our second, you’ll change your mind.”
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