#i want to run away from everything so badly

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 12

Summary: Wanda deals with the aftermath of your breakup.

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

Aint no mountain high enough

Ain’t no valley low enough

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

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

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

But Pietro’s not just anyone.

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

“Oh, morning. Want anything for breakfast?”

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

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

Or dream.

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

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

It’s been happening since you left.

“Sweetheart, you love soccer!”

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

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

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

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

It’s just a phase.

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

“Ok” is all he says, frowning.

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

—

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

So far, nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do the kids eat that?”

“Sure!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One of your songs.

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

“Miss Maximoff? This is Tommy’s teacher”

Ok, that will distract her for sure.

“Is he ok? Are he and Billy…?”

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

—

A fight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you ok? And Daniel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Later, Tommy”

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

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

But now you’re gone.

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

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

“Daniel was mean”

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

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

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

And as the woman turns around, her jaw drops.

“Mom!”

“Hello, dear”

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

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

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

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

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

That little Mama’s boy.

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

But all she can think about is you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Billy sighs, and then looks up.

“Daniel said some mean things. Like…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Correction.

Before Wanda kicked you out.

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

“Of course I do”

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

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

“Do you know if she’s ok?”

“I think so. I hope so”

“Do you think she misses us too?”

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“Alright” Wanda nods.

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

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

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

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

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

She wishes you had met her mother.

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

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

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

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

I’m fine.

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

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

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

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

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

“Try to get some rest”

“You too”

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

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

Pietro makes a motion, as if sealing his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleep well, sweet boy”

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

—

She could fix this.

You always fixed things.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t want this to happen”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry”

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

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

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

She lost you. Forever.

—-

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

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

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

“I’ll take some tea”

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

“Are you a gardener?”

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

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

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

“Was the family happy to see you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And she was with Wanda?”

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

“I’m just curious, as a mother…”

Ah, the mother card.

It works so well.

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

“So they were together?”

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

“And then?”

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

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

“No, I’m sorry”

“Mudak”

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

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

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

“Agatha or her girlfriend?”

“Both, definitely both”

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanda’s speechless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I should actually…”

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

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

“Well, he started the fight”

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

“Wow, ok, no need to get emotional”

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

Fucking asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom!”

“Are you ok?”

“Fine”

“Yeah, I can tell”

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

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

“Seriously?”

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

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

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

“He said drive through, so I did!”

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

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

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

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

Wanda wants to scream into a pillow.

—

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

The investigation continues.

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope I’m not too late”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You called?”

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

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

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

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

“What do you think?” Ekaterina presses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Agatha, Rio and Sharon share a look.

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

“Wanda, can we talk for a sec?”

“Yeah, sure”

They walked away from the rest of the parents.

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

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

“I know, he’s an asshole”

Both women laugh at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her first instinct is to call you.

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

Clint, he will know what to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Billy shakes his head no, and Wanda insists.

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

“I don’t know, I swear”

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

He should be at soccer practice now.

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

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

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

Instead he finds a letter and a couple of pins.

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

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

“Of course, sweetheart”

—-

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

“He liked to feed the ducks with Y/N”

“Ok, then”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

That’s not your voice.

It’s Natasha’s.

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

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

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

“It doesn’t feel like it”

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

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

“Thank God”

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

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

“Mama!”

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

“I’m sorry”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could this be the thing he found?

Billy and Tommy,

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

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

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

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

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

Love you three,

Y/N

Of course.

Of course it was you.

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

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

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

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

She misses you, so much it hurts.

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

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

A small box. For a ring.

An engagement ring.

She let’s out a gasp as she opens it.

You were proposing.

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

I’m such an idiot.

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

You.

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

Should she tell you she found the ring?

Would it make a difference at all?

[solxamber]

For Valentine's Event🫶🏽 Azul, Romantic [Sleepless by Dutch Melrose]

"Everything leads back to you" || Azul Ashengrotto

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Sleepless by Dutch Melrose

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 750

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Pining, Friends to lovers, Azul’s a little possessive

Azul doesn’t know when it started—this pining.

Perhaps it was the first time you smiled at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, laughter bubbling from your lips so effortlessly while he stood there, stunned, trying to figure out how someone like you had walked into his life.

Or maybe it was the first time you defended him. The first time you stood in front of him like a shield, words sharp and unwavering, cutting down anyone who dared mock him.

Or maybe it had always been there, lingering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to take hold.

Either way, he knows one thing for certain—everything leads right back to you.

And it's driving him insane.

Every night, Azul lies awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts running in endless circles.

What if you wake up tomorrow and love someone else?

The thought alone makes his stomach churn.

You aren't his. Not really. You're friends—but not lovers. There’s something between you, something unsaid, something that sits heavy in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

But every time he sees you smile at someone else, every time he watches you throw your head back in laughter at someone else’s joke, every time he watches you slip through his fingers just a little more, his heart screams—

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

And yet, he does nothing.

Because Azul Ashengrotto does not confess first. He does not put his heart on the line without guarantees. He does not chase after things he might lose.

But he wants you.

He wants you so badly that it hurts.

One night, he snaps.

"Azul?" you blink at him, confused as he stands in front of you, hands clenched at his sides, jaw tight. "What's wrong?"

"You tell me." His voice is sharper than intended, but he can’t bring himself to care. "What are we?"

You tilt your head, amused. "Friends?"

The word feels like a slap.

His grip tightens. "Just friends?"

A pause. You study him carefully, a flicker of something unreadable passing through your eyes.

"You tell me."

Azul hates how the words hit him, how they feel like a challenge. He hates how you look at him like that, like you already know the answer, like you’re just waiting for him to say it.

His pride wars with his desperation.

But then you take a step forward, so close that he can see his own reflection in your eyes. Your lips part, as if you’re about to say something—

And it’s over.

He caves.

"I'm Yours."

Your breath hitches. Azul swallows hard, hands trembling as he finally, finally says it.

"I've always been yours. And it’s driving me mad because I don't know if you’re mine."

A heartbeat of silence. His pulse pounds in his ears.

Then, you smile.

"You idiot."

And before he can process it, your lips are on his.

Soft. Warm. Real.

It takes him a second to catch up, to realize what's happening, to understand that this isn't a dream. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, desperate to keep you there, to keep you from slipping away ever again.

And when you finally pull back, breathless, eyes shining, you whisper, "I've always been yours, too."

And Azul thinks—by some miracle, by some twist of fate, he’s won.

He still has sleepless nights.

Even with you curled up beside him, safe and warm, he still lies awake sometimes, watching you breathe.

His fingers trace the curve of your cheek, the way your lashes flutter slightly in sleep. His heart clenches.

Because even now—especially now—he’s terrified.

What if you wake up tomorrow and realize he's not enough?

What if you wake up and decide you want more—more than what he can give?

Azul has never been someone who trusts easily, and his fears have always been his greatest enemy.

But then you stir.

You blink up at him, sleepy and soft, frowning as you reach for him blindly. "Go to sleep, Azul," you mumble, voice thick with exhaustion. "You're thinking too much again."

Before he can respond, you press a drowsy kiss to his lips, barely a whisper of warmth before you nuzzle into his chest and fall right back asleep.

Azul freezes.

His heart feels too full, too warm, too much—

He exhales.

Closes his eyes.

Holds you just a little tighter.

And as he drifts off, he thinks—

Everything leads right back to you.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[leeeedith]

STRAY KIDS reaction (texts) to their S/O walking out after a fight

Bang Chan 🐺

At first, Chan lets you go, thinknig you need space to cool off. But the second the door shuts, guilt washes over him. He paces the rooom, running a hand throught his hair, overthinking everything he said. After a few minutes, he grabs his phone and sends you a message: "Come back wen you're ready. I'm sorry. I just don't want to lose you over this."

Lee Know 🐰

Minho stays still, arms crossed, jaw clenched. His pride keeps him from calling after you immediately, but as soon as he hears the door close, regrets settles in. He sighs heavily and sinks onto the couch, staring at the spot where you stood moments ago. He won't chase you right away, but after some time, he'll text you: "Are you safe? Let me know. I'll wait for you."

Changbin 🐷

The second you turn to leave, Changbin's heart drops. He reaches out instinctively, but his frustation keeps him from stopping you. The moment you disappear, he punches a pillow in frustation before sitting down with his head in his hands. He debates running after you, but he doesn't want to push you further away. Instead, he types and deletes multiple messages before finally sending: "I didn't mean to hurt you. Please come back so we can talk."

Hyunjin 😺

Hyunjin's emotions are all over the place. Wen you walk out, he calls your name, but his voice breaks halfway through. He stands frozen, staring at the door, blinking rapidly to stop himself from crying. He doesn't know whether to run after you or give yous space, so instead, he grabs his sketchbook and starts scribbling aimlessly—his way of processing the pain. Later, he sends you a voice message: "I hate fighting with you... please come home."

Han 🐿️

At first, Han lets out a frustrated sigh, throwing himself onto the couch, muttering under his breath. But after a few minutes, panic sets in. What if you don't come back? What if he messed up too badly? He grabs his phone and calls you, pacing the room while waiting for you to pick it up. If you don't answer, he send a series of messages: "Are you okay?" "Where did you go?" "Please answer me." "I love you, okay?"

Felix 🐥

The moment the door shuts, Felix feels a heavy weight in his chest. His hands shake slightly as he stared at where you just stood. He's not one to handle conflict well, and the thought of you being upset with him makes his eyes sting. He curls up on the couch, hugging a pillow, waiting for you to text him first—but after a while, he gives in and sends you a soft message: "I'm sorry, love. Can you come home so we can fix this?"

Seungmin 🐶

Seungmin watches you leave with a blank expression, but inside, his heart is racing. His logical side tells him to give you space, but his emotions scream at him to fix things right away. He sighs and leans against the wall, staring at his phone, debating what to say. Eventually, he settles on something simple but sincere: "I know I upset you. But pleace don't shut me out... Let's talk when you're ready."

I.N 🦊

Jeongin doesn't expect you to walk out, and when you do, he just stands there, completely frozen. His throat tightens, and for a moment, he wonders if this is the end. He waits a few minutes, hoping you'll come back, but when you don't, he anxiously grabs his phone and sends a text: "I didn't mean to hurt you. Please, just let me know you're safe."

[binisbun]

older and more experienced bf jiwoong with a corruption kink but in a kinda soft way?? u told him he's ur first proper boyfriend n the tension since then finally hit its breaking point. he thinks ur the cutest when ur underneath him. he's so high off the power imbalance, roughly grabbing ur face in one hand telling u to keep ur eyes on him n maneuvering ur body around so he can be impossibly deeper inside of u. his grip on ur jaw is too tight and u whine that it hurts. he smiles n softens his grip to slowly run his thumb along ur tear stained cheek and whispers "i'm sorry, baby," pressing soft kisses to ur face n slows his thrusts. "promise i'm gonna take such good care of u" and rubs ur clit as u whimper into his neck n he kisses ur temple. "my pretty girl. don't have to worry about a thing as long as i'm here." u grab the collar of his t-shirt to bring his lips to urs as a couple tears slip from ur eyes, so overwhelmed by all the sensations but still wanting more of him.

i feel like he'd love someone younger n clingy who he could dote on like a daddy dom type of thing🧎🏻‍♀️ not even woong biased but i need him badly oml

i’m so sorry it’s taken me ages to reply to this but i’m honestly blown away… pls consider becoming a writer <3 and i 100% agree with you

“da-daddy,” you cried. “so deep!” he loved the way you cried for him, clinging onto him for dear life. he angled his thrusts to reach your sweetest spots, assuming that you’d never been able to reach them. “does that feel good, babygirl? daddy’s being so good to you, right?” he whispered softly, punctuating his words with those deep thrusts, making you whimper louder and louder. “i love it daddy, thank you, thank you, thank you,” you’d babble in response, loving everything he had to give you.

his heart would melt at the sight of you slowly falling apart underneath him, how you cried so sweetly for him :( he’d bury his face into your hair, deeply inhaling your sweet scent as he continues to move inside you, determined to make your first time everything you’d ever dreamt of. “you’re so perfect, my little princess,” he’d groan, snapping his hips faster as he felt your orgasm approaching. “just let go, babygirl. daddy’s got you, i promise.” he’d capture your lips in a kiss, swallowing your every whimper and moan as he gets you closer and closer. you cried out once more as you came for him for the first time, your walls clenching around his cock.

he’d bury himself deep, spilling his seed inside you as your legs shook from your recent orgasm. his body trembled, continuing to give you every last drop of his cum. “it’s all yours, my sweet girl, all yours.” he would gasp, collapsing as he cradled your form against his chest as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm together. he’d pepper your and neck with soft, gentle and adoring kisses, whispering words of praise and affection. “my perfect girl, daddy’s so honoured to be your first,” he’d whisper, smiling as you gazed at each other, so happy to be sharing this intimate moment together.

[gorgeys]

enemies to lovers with santana lopez

you and santana hate each other. you know it, she knows it, everyone knows it. until the lines start to blur.

word count: 1150 warnings: kissing a/n: this idea came to mind during my 47th glee rewatch and i'm lowk a little sad this fic didn't turn out as good as i expected :(

also, if you sent me a yellowjackets ask, i'm working on it! i've been a little busy lately but i'm going to try to get them done asap!!

you pressed your hand to your forehead as you reread the same chunk of the textbook you had been stuck on for the past ten minutes.  using your free period to study for your math test had seemed like a good idea, but it really only stressed you out more.

you look up when the door to the otherwise empty classroom swings open and groan when you see who it is.

"don't think i don't know what you're doing," she says, charging toward you.  she stops on the other side of the desk you're sitting at with her arms defensively crossed over her chest.

"hello to you too," you say before reverting your gaze back to the book.  despite your attempts to ignore her, she continues.

"i see you with schue," santana says, slapping her hands onto the table top and leaning forward so she's completely towering over you. her gaze is anything but kind. 

"i don't know what you're talking about," you mindlessly mumble, head still in the book and finger re-tracing one of the lines.

she suddenly slams your textbook shut, almost catching your fingers between the pages.  you finally look up at her, and she almost smiles at your irritation.

"please, everyone sees you sucking up to him and following him around like a lost puppy.  i mean, i knew you were pathetic, but i didn't realize you'd go that low just to get the solo," she says.  you swear her tone is extra venomous when it comes to you.

you roll your eyes before leaning forward onto your elbows, pushing your face closer to hers.

"you're so full of it, you know that?  not everything's about getting the solo or being head bitch in charge.  not that you would know, since you're too busy bitching and moaning all the time."

good thing the glee club wasn't here to see this.  they were beyond tired of this daily routine between the two of you.

"oh, please, birdbrain," she says without missing a beat.  "you just sit there looking all nice and pretty until there's something you want, and then you swoop in and shit all over everyone.  you might be able to fool schuester and the rest of those glee dorks, but i know you."

"and what if i was sucking up?" you suggest, abruptly standing from your chair and meeting her face-to-face.  "what would you do then?"

she notices your clenched jaw and feels accomplished knowing she's riled you up like this.  it's her favorite hobby, after all.

"it doesn't matter to me.  i'm gonna get the solo anyway," she says with a self-satisfied smirk.

"why are you even here, then?  if you're already going to beat me at auditions so badly," you say, mocking her with the pout of your lips.

there's a hitch in your well-rehearsed routine when santana pauses.  she opens her mouth to shoot back, but she's too busy staring at those shiny lips of yours.  they're taunting her.  they make her so...angry.

you raise your eyebrows when she doesn't respond right away.

"what?  cat got your tongue?" you ask, her smile falling and finding it's way to your face.

god, she just wants to wipe it right off those pretty, puffy lips.

she catches herself and steps back, arms crossing over her chest once more.  her eyes narrow at you.

"i'm sorry, your voice was just so grating that i couldn't listen any longer.  you really give berry a run for her money, you know."

"yeah, of course," you say.  as you walk around the desk, santana carefully watches you drag a manicured finger across the tabletop.  "you sure you're not a little scared?"

"scared of what? you?" she asks, turning to face you.  she scoffs as if it's outrageous.  "i'm more scared of those creepy cabbage patch kids."

"you're scared that i'm gonna beat you, right?  that's why you're here trying to scare me."

you inch closer to her, and her chest tightens because you're just so infuriating.  you and that smug grin, always taunting her.  those captivating eyes that seem to speak louder than your words.  the luscious hair she imagines pulling on just to hear you yelp out in pain.  infuriating is definitely the word.

"you're..."

santana starts, but for the first time in her life, she can't find the words.  creative insults usually rocket out of her mouth faster than the speed of light, but when you're looking at her like that, closer to her than you've ever been, her brain can't seem to function.

all she can see and smell is you.  stupid, annoying, frustrating you.

"pathetic," she finally finishes, trying to sound as sharp as usually does though it's all smoke and mirrors.

"ouch, santana, i'm so hurt," you mock, placing a hand over your chest.  a short-lived laugh leaves your lips.  "that's really the best you've got?  you've really lost your edge."  you're so lost in your own words that you don't notice the slight furrow of santana's eyebrow as her eyes flicker up and down your face.  "god, i can't wait to kill my audition and look over and see your stupid face.  i think it's gonna be even better than-"

acting on total impulse, santana reaches forward and grabs you by the sides of your neck.  you release a surprised squeal before she pulls you into her and silences you with a hard kiss.  you nearly tumble into her, but stop yourself by gripping onto her shoulders over her cheerios jacket.  without another thought, you kiss her back with just as much fervor.

santana takes charge as if she'd been planning this all along.  she forcefully backs you up until your back hits another desk and she settles between your legs.  one hand finds the small of your back and pulls your body flush against hers.

while her teeth clash with yours and she sucks harshly on your bottom lip, you can only think of how soft her lips are.  their sloppy, desperate movements convey a sense of longing that had been disguised as hate for so long.  finally, they were free to express everything she felt for you.

you thought you could kiss her for forever, but you reluctantly let her pull away for her air.  as soon as she does, the gravity of her actions sinks in.  she blinks back at you, staring at the mixture of both your lip glosses smeared all over your parted lips and chin.  still breathless, you squeeze her shoulders and try to subtly pull her back into you, but she's already stepping back.

you see the panic written all over her face before she abruptly turns and dashes out of the classroom just as quickly as she had entered.

you can only stand there, completely shell-shocked and math test totally forgotten.

you thought you hated santana lopez, but after she had walked in, rocked your world, and walked out, you weren't so sure.

[on-wine-dark-seas]

Alright, we are home and ready to YAP.

Phyx, babe, I'm here to tell you that this is some truly exemplary fanfiction. Like, when I say this fic has checked all my boxes [and added a few I didn't know I wanted]??? I have never been held so tightly by the throat in a fanfic. Not like this.

The pacing for this fic is so masterful I need you to teach me how you fucking do it. Not a word or a moment wasted in any chapter, and the way you keep the tension building steadily, snapping and controlling the story and drawing us in, or shutting us out. Ah, I could ramble about this for DAYS.

Let's talk about your characterization of Sukuna. You have achieved this lovely balance of making him menacing, cruel, brutal, and wild [my favorite Sukuna flavors]. But you've also shown us how innately human he actually is. You've spun his tale so well where there are moments where he's everything like the legends say, and where he is nothing like the legends say. He is all and everything and nothing. I think you know how much I love him by now but your characterization is hands-down one of my favorites. Again, masterful work.

The Reader [I don't see myself as her] is also a masterful character. You've stoked the flames of curiosity from the outset where we learn about her in the same way her techinque works: little poisonous details that rot away the veneer to reveal the horrifying truth beneath the silk [ha, apt title]. She's stubborn, she's independent, she's stronger than she could have ever let herself realize [until this chapter], and she is so much like Sukuna that I think that's why he's so drawn to her. She's like him in that she is not a creature meant for any yoke. She will run freely or she will die fighting and snarling.

The two of them together burn like gasoline flames left untended. They want each other so badly it makes them do all manner of hurtful shit to deny their mutual attraction. I am waiting on tenterhooks for the moment they both finally accept the truth of what they are to each other because I know you're going to make it so cathartic.

The scene with the branding was tough. I can see why you needed a break. I can't imagine the headspace you had to shift into to make that scene hit like it did but again: masterful work. I am so ready to see Sukuna crash out over this because I know he's livid.

Also the white-haired demon is there, love that for him. But he needs to move, this is Sukuna country! 🗣️

This was such a brilliant update [and breathtaking cliffhanger] because now I'm fully invested in seeing these two end up together no matter what. I want them to destroy it all together [I'm insane].

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 35: Goodbye, Little Red Flower

Content warning: Violence, gore, blood, dismemberment, Sukuna POV at the end.

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

The Breaking Of The Shell - Hunter As a Horse Doom - Alex Terrible

Chapter 34

The light tap on your bare shoulder almost pulls you from the haze of sleep.

Almost.

But you’re too comfortable to move. Too tired. Caught somewhere between peace and exhaustion with barely any thoughts. You drift, resting on whatever softness you lie on. It feels nice. And smells faintly of a warm, crackling fire and a deeper undertone, like marrow buried in the earth. Dense. Grounding.

Another tap, firmer this time, yet still gentle.

“Psst.”

A voice.

“It’s time to wake up.”

When your eyes drift open, you blink and are greeted by the sight of Sukuna’s messy sheets, a ridiculous mountain of pillows, and your form poured out across his futon, flat on your stomach.

Disoriented, you blink again, pushing yourself up slowly. Turning to sit, you face the room, aching in every muscle, body and energy spent. It feels like you could sleep for ages, especially here, wrapped in the decadence of this space.

A soft clearing of a throat breaks the quiet, and you glance left. Pale morning light filters through the garden doors, illuminating Ren standing beside the raised futon. She cradles a bowl of steaming liquid, her expression furrowed in thought.

“Morning,” she says, her voice polite, her head bowing slightly, but her eyes wander to the nearest wall, avoiding you.

You look down.

Oh.

Right.

You’re completely naked.

Muttering a few choice words, you grab the nearest thing—the massive blue quilt and swamp the fabric tightly around your body. It doesn’t take long for the memories of last night to resurface, and all you wish for is the heavy forgetfulness of sleep.

What do you remember?

Ceramics shattering. Sneaking into the King of Curses’ room in the middle of the night to stab him. All the truths that were finally hatched. Then, the forest battle. Your power. The fire arrow. The shouting. Screaming. Kissing. The sex—gods, the sex. Before, the quiet, whispering, “I should have stolen you sooner.” And finally, the monster letting you go, telling you to depart before sunrise, leaving you here, alone, covered in his…

You look down, cheeks burning with mortification as irritation prickles under your skin at the sticky sensation between your legs. There’s a lot. It’s everywhere.

He has two cocks, after all.

Taking a corner of the quilt, you scrub at your inner thighs, uncaring if you stain his sheets. If anything, you hope it leaves a mess—one small, final reminder that you were here. The act feels petty, but you reserve a corner in your mind that he deserves a whole lot more than this.

Let all his sleeps be ruined by crusty sheets.

Prick.

Peering back at Ren, your eyes flicker to the bowl cradled in her hands, which she seems to be directing toward you. The wafting steam smells of the earth, a grassy edge, maybe something sweet.

“What is that?”

Your prickly tone does little but draw her attention back to you. You level her with a stare. The sting of betrayal still crawls around in your mind, and looking at her directly does nothing to settle it.

“It’s a tea, my La—” Her words falter, lip tucking inward to stop herself.

You tug the quilt tighter, a protective shield.

So, the news has already spread throughout the shrine. This sham of a union is over. Eyebrows calmly arching, you wait for her to recover her voice.

“It’s a preventative,” she says, clearing her throat softly, “against anything... unwanted. Master Sukuna didn’t wish you to leave only to become pregnant.”

Her explanation barely registers before you take the bowl from her hands, careful to avoid brushing her skin—an intentional gesture after last night’s incident. No more shattered ceramics.

“How thoughtful of him,” you mumble, peering into the bowl’s murky contents and inhaling.

Despite the bitterness in your words, you know it’s true. Becoming pregnant would be foolish, and, as Ren said, unwanted. With no home, no clan, and no means of support, bringing a child into this life would be reckless.

“Is this what you and Sayuri would drink?”

You take a sip. Hints of over-brewed root and bark nips at your tongue.

“Not often.” Ren makes a humming sound in her chest. “If ever.” She moves across the room to pluck your ruined yukata that still sits as a rumpled pile on the floor. “Normally, he wouldn’t find completion inside us,” she adds, her voice calm, almost factual. “He would withdraw.”

“Oh.”

You avert your stare to the tea again. Taking a longer sip, then two more, you drain the rest in one long swallow. Wiping your mouth, you add, “I suppose I should feel honoured, right?” You tap the ceramic dish once with a finger before setting it down on the sheets.

Again, the bitterness in your words. They aren’t meant for Ren, but they come nonetheless.

Petty, petty.

She doesn’t respond, and standing at the end of the futon, she hesitates before dropping her chin. 

“I don’t mean to be forward, but—” She smooths your discarded garment between her fingers, as if trying to rub out the stains. “You need to leave,” she continues. The new tension winding through her tone has you sitting straighter. “There’s a force advancing toward Master Sukuna’s domain.”

Your brow creases.

“An attack?” Feet finding their way to the floor, you stand with the quilt wrapped around you. “Similar to previous ones?”

Ren shakes her head softly.

“No.” She hands you your yukata, which you take with careful fingers. “Master Sukuna seems more concerned about this. Apparently, it’s much more organized—and from the capital.”

Your pulse makes a dip. Skips a beat or two.

What you had wondered about last night is coming to pass. Heian-kyō is moving to retaliate against Ryomen Sukuna. The course of events likely tracing to what you asked of him nights ago—the destruction of the Kasai clan…

Everyone. Dead.

Those were her words.

You let the quilt fall, and threading your arms through the sleeves of your yukata, you slip inside.

What would they do if they ever laid hands on Sukuna? Unlikely—but does it matter to you anymore?

Do I even care?

Pinching the front panels of the garment closed, you glance around for the sash—your binding from last night—but it’s nowhere to be found.

Before you can ask any further questions, the door slides open.

Uraume steps into the room. Their pink gaze flickers toward you briefly, but it doesn’t remain. Crossing to a chest resting in the corner, their pale hands move to pile several folded garments into their arms.

You stare at them. At the pink strip staining the back of their head.

I trusted you.

Ren shifts beside you, clearing her throat for what feels like the hundredth time. 

“I’ll prepare some of your things for departur—”  

“I trusted you.” Your voice is aimed at Uraume’s back, but your words are meant for both of them.

The pale-haired subordinate’s hands pause. It falls silent. Then they continue while a pained expression passes over Ren’s face. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Did you all just sit around at the end of the day and laugh at me?” you add, teeth clicking shut. “Recount all the stupid things I must have done?”

With a thump, Uraume presses the chest closed. In the dim light, dust motes swirl, dance, and finally settle. They turn to you, head bowing deeply, taking you by surprise.

“I have nothing to say for myself,” they admit, tone sincere. “And whatever you believe, know this—our actions toward you were genuine.”

“Genuine?” Your laugh comes out humourless. “After lying to me this whole time?"

“Yes.”

They pause, then lift their head.

“But.” Their expression cools, and your gaze hardens. “Your intent was to harm Master Sukuna. My loyalty will always remain with him—just as yours has always belonged elsewhere.”

Loyalty?

You huff, frustration rolling around inside your chest.

“Of course my loyalty was elsewhere. I did this to protect my sister.”

Under Uraume’s white bangs, their eyes exchange a wordless glance with Ren before flitting back to you.

Of course, they also didn’t know this—none of them did. Hidden truths and lies are all that bind anyone here.

“It wasn’t something I chose for myself,” you continue. And yet—what choice did either of them have against the word of the King of Curses? Was there a choice at all?

For a moment, Uraume hesitates, as if there’s more they want to say. But they simply bow their head again.

“Be safe.”

Clutching the stack of garments, they turn, slip gracefully into the corridor and disappear.

You stand there quietly before Ren steps briskly toward the door.

“Please,” she murmurs. “It’s time to go.”

Lifting your chin, you follow her from Sukuna’s chambers, sparing one last glance at the mural—the fading seasons, the red bloom sprouting from the snow—before turning away.

Descending the corridor back to your room feels strange, yet familiar, like retracing steps through a place that no longer belongs to you. When you enter, Ren gives you space. You move quickly, taking only what you need for the journey. Everything else, and anything gifted, remains untouched.

Before changing into a dark, plain kimono and hakama, you wipe your body down as best you can with a piece of cloth, ridding yourself of Sukuna’s touch.

With your leather gloves on, you pause in the doorway. The shattered ceramics from last night have been cleaned, leaving no trace of the realizations they pulled forth. Sliding the door open, you turn left, following the long hallway toward the front entrance. You pass the central hall, passing attendants along the way. They move through the corridors with their heads drawn low, not acknowledging you.

And you wonder—had they known about your gift all along? Perhaps that’s why they kept their distance, treating you like a walking, breathing wound.

Or a sickness.

Pushing the massive front doors open, you step outside. The morning drips with light rain, drizzle clinging to the air as fog blankets the ground in a soupy veil.

Everything is grey—dull, grey, muted, lifeless.

No colour. No warmth.

You exhale.

The clipped tap of footsteps behind you draws your gaze back over your shoulder. Ren stands at the mouth of the corridor, her face unreadable.

“Take care of yourself,” you say with a nod. She bows, head lowered, never lifting it.

Forcing a tight smile, you descend the wet stone steps of the shrine. The sodden ground gives beneath your feet as you make your way to the stables. Inside, your gaze sweeps over the stalls, tracing the familiar shapes of Sukuna’s horses, one after another, all accounted for.

So, he’s still here.

You pull open the door where Ayana waits, but a dull thud draws your attention downward.

There in the hay, your sheathed tantō lies, snug in its scabbard.

You stare at it for a heartbeat. Sukuna must have retrieved it, intending for you to take it. Your mouth twitches faintly, but instead of picking it up, you step over it, leaving the weapon where it lies.

A gift given, and one you’ll leave behind.

Ayana greets you with a gentle nudge, her warm breath coasting over your cheek. Huffing softly, the corner of your mouth attempts to rise.

“Ready to go, girl?” you murmur, circling her with a reassuring pat. Her dappled coat is smooth, brushed to a shine, clear that someone has taken care of her.

“We’ll ride toward the capital. Yuna will likely be waiting there for us,” you say, running a soothing hand along her neck before reaching for the bridle slung over the nearest beam. You begin fitting it over her head, your gloved hands steady as you secure the tack.

“And when this is all over, I’ll find you a place with real pastures. Somewhere with soft grass and open space, plenty of room to run wild.” You adjust the straps. “I’ll bring you something good too. Maybe sweet chestnuts. Or apples from some market we find along the way, the kind that smells like warm honey.”

She whinnies, and you smile at her.

“Freedom. Choices.” You give her a final pat. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

The creak of the stable door opening makes your head tilt slightly. You pause. The heavy footfalls arrive like an approaching storm, the rustle of fabric a whisper, sending searing heat down your spine.

Sukuna’s footsteps might as well be stomping around inside your chest—all loud and disquieting.

But instead of hiding, you keep your focus on Ayana, and don’t look up. You continue preparing her, hands moving with careful precision.

Still, you can’t ignore the faint trace of his energy brushing against you, prodding—almost as if in greeting.

You force yourself to ignore it. To breathe.

You can block it out, can’t you? If nothing else, you’ve learned this much—you are far stronger than you ever realized.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep and low into your belly.

Slowly, the oppressive hum of him dulls. Quieted, but not gone. Never entirely gone.

A stall door groans open. One of his many horses lets out a low chuff, and then his voice—deep and quiet—fills the space, murmuring soft, soothing words to the beast. The familiar clink of buckles follows, the slow pull of leather straps.

He’s leaving now too.

You quicken your pace, finishing swiftly to avoid a final confrontation.

With the saddle fastened, you mount Ayana and steer her toward the main doors, keeping your focus locked ahead—nowhere else. A firm nudge to her side, and you burst from the stables, refusing to acknowledge the flash of red eyes snapping toward you as you race past.

No lasting glances. No words. No goodbye.

Nothing.

You’re already gone.

Erupting down the dirt-packed road with the wind tearing through your hair, the rain picks up. But you don’t mind. This is a first taste of freedom.

Pressed between the towering, muted trees at your sides and the endless curve of the grey sky above, Ayana surges forward, her hooves slicing through shallow puddles.

It all blurs. You don’t look back.

But it doesn’t take long before your mare’s gallop is drowned out by the thundering of hooves from behind.

Before you can turn, Sukuna suddenly appears beside you, his massive warhorse cutting across your path. Ayana rears back with a startled cry, and you grip the reins tightly to steady her, heart pounding as he pulls alongside.

Slowly, he comes into focus.

You haven’t met his gaze since last night, seen his face since that vulnerable moment when he was buried deep inside you, when he turned you away.

Now, eyes finding yours, they move across you, and something fractures behind the scarlet hue of his stare.

He looks so different from only hours ago. Before, he had been lost in pleasure—or whatever other tumultuous emotions had circled in his mind.

Now, he looks ready for war.

A dark charcoal kimono and hakama stretches over his broad frame, the long spear strapped to his back a promise of violence. He appears as a shadow against the pale morning, cut from a deep wound, a stain.

And yet—

Tiny droplets of rain cling to him, softening the edges. Beads dot his lashes, dampen his pink hair to a deeper shade of blush. His eyes blink against the drizzle, and for a moment, the storm touches him too.

Hands loosening on Ayana’s reins, you part your lips to ask why he’s come—only for him to reach forward and crush something against your sternum.

Your chin tilts downward. Pressed against your chest is a thick stack of parchment, its edges curling from the damp. Reaching for them, your gloved fingers brush against the soaked paper, and you avoid his hand. Then your gaze drops lower, catching on the seal pressed into the front. A snake, coiled in red.

They are letters.

Your letters.

The ones he took.

Your eyes snap back to the King of Curses. He looms over you, his upper left arm still closing the space, palm flat against you. He looks out of place, oddly quiet, like he wants to speak but can’t quite force the words free.

Your grip on the reins shifts, leather creaking—the only sound above the steady patter of rain and the breath of the two horses.

Three heartbeats pass before he finally speaks.

“Be careful,” he mumbles lowly, pressing his hand more firmly as though unwilling to let go. His brow furrows. The way he looks at you—it’s there. If only he could unburden himself, let the words crawl free, you might listen.

You wait.

But his mouth and throat are fortified, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that aches.

“Stay off the main road. Don’t ride east, it’s dangero—”

“Goodbye, my Lord.” 

Composed. Formal. Chin lifted.

Your interruption makes him hesitate, lip twitching—before, at last, he releases you. Slowly. Reluctantly. And it’s that reluctance on his face that makes him look like a man who’s taken another blade to the neck and doesn’t understand how.

What does he expect? 

Again, you’ve given him pieces of yourself. And again, he has taken.

The thought twists.

Ruiner.

Tucking the letters deep into the front panels of your kimono, you turn away. Without a backward glance, you guide Ayana forward, and the space separating you stretches wide—like the unseen divide that always existed between your two rooms at the shrine.

Ayana surges ahead. The world blurs into gold and brown. But you only get so far before something inside tugs—an invisible thread pulling too tight.

You risk a glance back.

There’s a final flash of red clinging to you before vanishing, swallowed by the fog and rain, and the four-armed demon dissolves into the grey.

* * * * *

You don’t ride for long before finding a place beyond the main trail to dismount. Under the shelter of a sprawling oak, your mare slows, and you pull the letters from the safety of your kimono.

Settling onto a cold slab of rock, its damp surface seeping through your layers, you decide it’s time to read through them—if only to chase away the feeling clawing at your chest.

An odd ache of sorts.

Glancing down at the parchment in your hands—there are many. Some remain folded and untouched. While others have been folded and refolded, their creases worn soft, as if read over again and again.

Why Sukuna felt the need to keep them hidden, you’re unsure.

Taking the first from the top, you ease it open and begin.

Dearest Sister, I hope this letter comes to you well. Court life has been a marvel—every day feels like stepping into the poetry of a dream. The noblewomen are endlessly graceful, and I’ve started lessons to refine my own gestures and speech. Did you know there’s even a proper way to arrange robes for an audience? It’s all so fascinating, and I feel I’m learning so much. Yuna

Your brow drops. You set it aside and retrieve another.

Dearest Sister, I’ve had the opportunity to meet several suitors from other clans, Zen’in, Kamo. I’m still waiting to meet a man from the Sugawara clan, said to have silver hair and striking blue eyes like the open sea. The others carry themselves differently, some with charm, others with an air of superiority. I wonder what they saw when they looked at me. Yuna

You drag your eyes away from the elegant script, rifling through the stack before selecting another.

Dearest Sister, The dango here is unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. Soft, sweet, with just the slightest hint of char that, regrettably, left me with a terrible stomach ache. I lack restraint, but how could I when they were served on—

Enough.

Your fingers curl into the parchment.

What kind of letters are these? Not a single word asks about your well-being or safety. Not a single inquiry into how you are being treated at the shrine. She speaks only of herself, every sentence orbiting around her.

Jaw clenching, you shuffle through the rest, searching for a kind word—anything that isn’t self-indulgent. But there’s nothing. It’s always about Yuna. It always has been.

She is the protected.

You, the protector.

She, the gem.

You, the trinket, shoved into a corner.

Her, lovely.

You, anything but.

You’ve convinced yourself time and time again that your needs were never worthy, that you were deemed undeserving. Yet despite her volatile upbringing—one so similar to your own—she could still show you some hint of compassion, some fragment of concern. Couldn’t she?

You keep searching, keep looking, and still, nothing.

A crack runs through your heart, a fractious crumbling. Ridiculous to feel this way. All this from a few damn letters. But you swallow and flip through the papers once more, unfolding and refolding.

There has to be something. 

Your fingers halt on a small, unmarked letter, the parchment lightly stained, its surface rough, absent of any emblem. Discreet. You unfold it slowly, revealing the familiar ink strokes of your father’s handwriting.

For a moment, you simply blink, looking down at the ramblings of a dead man—a man you killed—staring back at you.

To my youngest daughter. I will make this brief. If I am no longer here, I have one simple and final request to offer you. Do not trust the next head of the Kasai clan. Trust no one. Trust yourself. Trust your memories, but know that the mind is a terrible thing when touched. While you remain in the south, under the creature’s eyes, remember your mother. Remember her. Remember. And for all the harm I have caused you, I can only hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me. Your Father. Kasai Takuma.

You stare at it, chest tight.

Forgive him?

Forgive him?

The thought alone feels impossible. A delusion he has no right to ask for. A fucking fool’s errand.

Your eyes sting.

Crumpling the letter, you toss it aside, letting it sink into the wet grass.

The thought burns at you, picking. You push to your feet, pace in agitation, eyes fixed on the wadded paper while the damp earth begins to swallow it whole.

“The mind is a terrible thing when touched…” you murmur, watching the letter start to cave in on itself. “What the hell does that even mean?”

The ink starts to bleed.

Your mouth twitches.

With an exhale, you step closer, grabbing it before moisture can fully soak through, then stare at it again, reading it over and over until his nonsense is memorized.

Because something about this feels wrong. Bone-deep, wrong.

The Kasai clan was destroyed days ago. There is no clan head. No power. No influence.

Once, I think I cared for you, just like your mother had, but I forgot what that felt like.

Your father’s words wander back, unbidden. The same words he spoke before you stabbed him in the throat.

“You’re not making any sense, you bastard.”

Sighing, you let your head fall back, neck tilting as your eyes drift skyward. The rain has passed, but the clouds linger heavy, dragging their swollen bellies close to the earth.

Your heartbeat slows.

Remember.

Remember…

Remember what?

Closing your eyes, you take a long, deep breath. Calm.

Remember.

Remember…

I remember a breeze. A whisper in the dark.

“How are you feeling?”

Your gaze snaps open as a choking scent invades your nose.

A smell.

That smell.

Smoke.

Leather gloves creaking, you curl your hands into fists as your eyes lift to the east, catching sight of thick, dark plumes rising, streaking the sky in an ugly stain of ash.

Something’s burning.

* * * * *

Elsewhere, in a village to the east, some time later…

Screaming. Yelling. Crying.

Flames lick at the grey sky. Huts on fire. Villagers running in every direction.

The King of Curses knows no mercy. Even surrounded by ten, twenty, fifty men, he fights. And when Sukuna fights, he fights viciously. Violently. He fights alone.

From across the burning, crumbling village, five assailants throw themselves toward him all at once. With Hiten out, the demon’s hold on his cursed energy is loose, and he responds in kind.

The first man arrives, swinging his katana with misplaced triumph, aiming for his weapon hand. The sharp edge of the blade descends with a high-pitched wail, but before he can take another step, his blood and guts are already smeared across the ground.

As easy as splitting an overripe peach.

Sukuna grins at the mess and laughs, then lifts his chin from the warm, wet, glistening heap. 

Three more follow.

He’s ready. Muscles in his chest swollen, the upper half of his kimono slung at his waist, four arms draped at his side, he steps forward to meet them.

For a heartbeat, as he moves, the energy of a lesser sorcerer rolls up against him in annoying fits and spurts. It’s distracting, a bit of a nuisance. Lip peeling back, he ignores it, his focus returning to the rushing of feet toward him, the advancing trio moving with well-trained precision.

But training means nothing in the presence of a many-faced monster.

Garments snapping in the heat of battle, Sukuna takes in the insignias woven into their attire—men from Heian-kyō and the Zen’in clan. The latter, he knows, is behind the constant attacks on his domain. For the past month, they’ve pushed his patience, having sat in league with the Kasai clan. Were.

There’s a bright red flash.

A spasm of energy hurtles toward him.

Dodging, he slides into a wide stance, sandals gripping the damp soil. His upper right arm lifts, two fingers poised. Scarlet eyes burn.

Flick!

A sharp hiss rips through the air.

The three men stagger to a stop, shudder, then split apart—torsos sliding cleanly from their hips, their bodies fall in halves to the ground with meaty thuds.

Veins, cartilage, bone, tissue, muscle.

Sometimes, Sukuna enjoys dragging out a fight—testing his opponent’s limits, squeezing out every last drop of potential.

Not today.

Today, he fights to kill. Today, he wants to see eyes wrench wide, watch insides spill pink, feel flesh tear under his hands. The slick heat of blood—he needs it. Needs to drown out the colour of snowmelt, the vision slipping long out of reach.

Pitiful.

He lets himself feel fucking pathetic for one second before turning to the last man in his vicinity.

There are still more to kill.

Lots more.

“Come on!” His canines flash.

He feels insane. Drunk. Blood drunk. Bloodlust.

He wants more. So much more.

The final man raises his hands, fingers aligning into some kind of hand sign.

“Thrilling.” Sukuna’s demonic grin pulls wider.

With a smooth motion, his lower left arm draws back, halberd poised.

He releases it.

The incantation barely leaves the sorcerer’s throat before the blades sink snugly into his windpipe. The man’s cries mutate into animalistic sounds as he crumples to his knees, then collapses onto his back, eyes fixed on the ashen sky.

“How boring,” the King of Curses mutters, stepping closer to the body.

Planting his foot on the lifeless chest, he leans into it, dislodging Hiten from the ruined neck with a slick, hideous squelch.

“Such a waste to use this here,” he scowls, turning the bloodied weapon in his hand with a reverent eye. “It deserves far worthier opponents…” Lowering the haft to the dirt, he lets the blade rest upright. “Perhaps another time.”

He lifts his attention from the spear, falling on the remains of the sprawling village, surveying where the chaos takes shape.

The pests of the Zen’in clan and men from the capital swarm the dirt paths between ruined huts, fire stinging the air as they rip the place apart. He catches sight of others lingering at the edges, biding their time, waiting, but he’s not sure for what.

Four eyes sweeping to the fields beyond, he sees they’re smothered in ash, the homes already burned to the ground before his arrival. This village—once the heart of this domain northeast of the shrine—is as good as lost. Survivors, mostly women and children, pick their way through the wreckage or scatter into the surrounding wilds. Few converge in the distance, forming a group as they attempt to flee toward the tree line—only to be cut down or dragged away.

A month ago, the situation wasn’t this dire. Then again, a month ago, everything was very different. But this assault feels… calculated.

As he moves toward another cluster of assailants, that same flicker of lesser energy brushes against him, making his brow crease in irritation. Again, he ignores it, too busy weighing his next opponent.

Out of nowhere, two horses rush past, their riders racing in the direction he came from. 

South. 

A warning rings out inside his mind, and he doesn’t hesitate to move.

Abandoning the village, Sukuna tracks them, his massive form cutting through the terrain. With a flick of his wrist, the first rider is ripped from the saddle, slamming against the earth.

The second man continues, veering deeper into the brush. 

He doesn’t make it far. 

With a single swipe, Sukuna cleaves through flesh and bone, severing the rider’s leg mid-gallop. The limb hits the ground first. The man follows, crashing into the undergrowth. His horse bolts, vanishing into the trees, leaving its master mutilated in the dirt, groaning in agony.

Through the thicket, the King of Curses moves slowly. Blood pools beneath the mangled figure, staining the rain-softened earth dark. Sukuna reaches him and kneels, fingers curling into the man's battle attire—a layered mix of padded silk and hemp, suited for a warrior of Heian-kyō’s polished courts yet built for combat. Hiten shifts at his side as Sukuna hauls the man upright, their faces close enough that he can taste the sour tang of his breath, can see the fear stretching lines in his features.

“Why are you here?” Sukuna’s voice is a bored, guttural drone.

What he said must have been funny, because his trembling prey smiles at him, baring a row of gummy teeth.

Oh.

Sukuna chuckles.

How sweet.

Canting his head like an animal, the monster’s lower right hand finds its way to the dismembered leg. His fingers crawl deep into the raw, bleeding cavity until the man’s mouth opens in a scream.

“I’ll ask again,” he drawls, pinching an artery between firm fingers. “Why are you here?”

“To collect!” the warrior croaks in pain, blood bubbling onto his chin, some managing to spill onto the mossy ground.

Sukuna’s grip loosens—slightly.

“To collect what?”

Sweat slithers down the man’s brow to settle in the hollow of his cheek. 

“You,” he wheezes, then the grin from before returns, overtaking his shuddering expression. “And to take that whore of a wife off your hands.”

Sukuna’s face turns solid. Emotionless. He says nothing. Even when he imagines tearing the man’s jaw free from its roots, leaving him to choke on his own bile and blood.

“You are sentenced to death for the crimes against the Kasai clan,” he continues, glee painting his words even as his skin pales like a corpse. “Your wife stands accused of conspiracy and treason for instigating a coup.”

Sukuna’s jaw sets. He removes his fingers from inside the bloody stump.

“But, she’s wanted alive.” The man pauses. “There are far greater plans for her.”

The monster’s expression darkens.

“And who said she had anything to do with it?” His teeth are bared despite himself.

Patience.

“A witness,” the warrior sneers. “Someone of higher influence than both of you.”

“Fuck your so-called witness. It means nothing to me,” Sukuna hisses, yanking the man forward until their noses nearly touch. “The Kasai clan is gone. I took them apart.” 

“No.” The man wheezes out a laugh, then licks his bloodied bottom lip. “Not all of them.”

The King of Curses already knows this. And he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the accusations, the sentence placed upon him. Let them call him a criminal, a demon, a cannibal, disgraced, wretched—he’s heard it all before. But you? That’s… a different creature entirely.

His fingers flex around the warrior’s clothing, crumpling it further in his grip.

“Who?”

The man’s grin spreads grotesquely wide, every tooth on display.

“The new head of the Kasai clan.” He starts to laugh, his head lolling back in wild abandon.

Only then does Sukuna notice the eyes, the pupils—blown wide, unnaturally so.

“And she’s magnificent.” She. “You’ll see. You’ll see when—”

With a harsh twist, the man’s face is wrenched sideways. His laughter cuts off. Bones splinter. Flesh stretches. Pulls. Tears. 

Sukuna doesn’t stop.

He rips the jaw clean from the warrior’s skull. Blood sprays across him in a fine mist. Holding the chunky mass of bone and tissue in his hand, he turns it slowly between his fingers as though admiring a beautiful flower. Below him, his victim collapses to the ground, his hands flying up to claw at the gaping red hole where his mouth once was. But there’s nothing, and his screams are reduced to wet, gurgling sounds as his body twitches in pain.

“Magnificent, was it?” Rising to his full height, Sukuna drops the shattered jaw. “Let’s see how magnificent Yuna Kasai is when I’m done with her.”

Without sparing another look, he turns, leaving the man to suffer, and saunters back toward the village.

As he walks, he collects everything, thinks about the manipulative little bitch who has finally revealed her hand—turning against you, usurping what remains of the Kasai clan, setting everything into motion.

Like a slow-working poison. And by the time you realize what she’s done, it will be too late.

Once your eyes have opened, it will destroy you.

And after all this, he let you go—knowing full well you were no longer safe.

Safe.

He scrubs a hand across his face, then runs it through his hair, fingers dragging through clotted blood and sweat. With another hand, he grips Hiten, shifting its weight as he slides the weapon’s haft into his obi, the blade rising over his shoulder, still within reach.

Walking out of the tree line, the village comes into view, and that same pressure as before pushes against his senses—a slow, drugging pulse in his veins. Drugging in the way that it’s familiar... 

Sukuna slows, then stops, cocks his head to the side, all his senses straining.

That lesser energy he’s been feeling. Not lesser, just untamed energy. It reaches across him like a stranger but still familiar—known, but not entirely. The face of someone he once knew but never fully understood, even if he wished he had.

But that’s impossible.

Because it’s yours.

Your cursed energy. Here.

You are here.

Why the hell are you here? You can’t be. You were far from this place. He had told you not to ride east. So why does it feel like he’s breathing you in again? Hadn’t he finally rid himself of your presence?

And yet.

Spurts of it tell him something else.

You are here. And you are… fighting.  

His four eyes roll across the surroundings, searching. There’s a wisp of it. He feels it. Then, he moves.

Carving his way through any assailant even as they lunge at him, he slips past every strike, every arc of steel, and every flicker of energy that flares to life.  

Delving back deeper into the village, fire cracks. The wind shifts. Smoke spills down his throat, and the warm scent of death thickens, layered with fouler scents.  

Decay.  

His gaze narrows.  

He moves faster.

The ground slopes under his feet. A natural dip in the land, where runoff pools from the rain. Down past charred remains of a market stall, he steps over a corpse. 

More signs.

Footprints trailing through the dirt, the grass at their edges reduced to black husks. Ash curling over withered reeds. It only goes so far before the rot stops.

Your work.  

He lifts his head.

The village stretches forward, its wreckage bisected by a narrow road snaking through the center. 

More corpses litter the ground. Not just dead—ruined.

Darkness eats at the edges of their skin, flesh slack and mottled, collapsed inward. Their chests yawn open, ribs gaping, organs spilled like spoiled fruit.

So this is the full extent of your power—all from a single touch.

He pauses, taking it in—the tattered scraps of the dead’s clothing, the insignias barely visible through falling soot and ash.

Heian-kyō and Zen’in.

Sukuna steps over the bodies. Another corpse shudders in its final moments, a rattling hiss as bones slump into a heap of innards.

Fresh.

You were here moments ago.  

He breathes it in, takes it in, the reeking taste of sick life on his tongue.  

You’re messy. Inefficient. Brutal. Room for error.

His lip curls.

Reckless woman.

“Where the fuck are you?” he growls, stepping over another pile of split torsos and soured meat. But there it is—your pulse, steady through this slaughter.

Skirting a half-collapsed hut, he follows its pull.

Then, a desperate cry cracks the air.

He stops.

Goes still.

Listens.

His ears catch the sting of metal, the shuffle of hurried feet, and a crowd of voices. 

But it’s you. 

He knows this.

Through the shambles, down shallow alleys, past collapsed walls where fire has eaten at wood and thatch—he moves.

The pulse of your cursed energy bleeds stronger.

The noise ahead swells.

Laughter.

Jeering voices. Too loud.

He rounds the last ruin and steps into an open stretch of the village square.

In the distance, a cluster of men stands in a tight mass all shouting and revelling. Teeth flashing, voices raised as though they’ve just brought down something great.

As though they’ve won.

He moves closer.

The ravenous crowd parts like a vein split open, but there’s no beast lying at their feet.

There’s only you.

The Zen’in clan and men from the capital have you.

Their hands claw at you—pulling, dragging, yanking—before shoving you face-first into the slick mud. Your arms are wrenched behind your back, leather gloves missing, exposing discoloured fingers and hands.

Beside you, one man yanks Ayana’s reins, his knuckles tight around the leather. The mare screams, bucking wildly, panic twitching through every strained muscle. Kicking up dirt, she fights to break free.

But it isn’t enough.

She is losing.

And so are you.

Thrashing, you fight like a wild creature ripped straight from the forest, meant to be bound and butchered.

And you don’t stop. Not even when a man straddles your back, his knees digging into you as he shoves a dirtied strip of cloth between your teeth, wrapping it tight around your head, forcing your cries to collapse into muffled rage. Then he adjusts his grip and pulls. Your spine wrenches into a painful bow, body buckling under heavy weight.

You scream.

And—

Livid. Fucking. Fury.

Clarity comes to a sharpened point.

Jaw clenched, it's incredible how the violence hits Sukuna all at once—so forceful he's certain his teeth crack down to the marrow.

But that isn’t the worst of it.

Another man steps around your struggling form, gripping a branding iron. Its tip glows—a hot, furious thing. Your right arm is wrenched back, palm up, pinned to the ground.

That’s when he understands this condemnation.

裏切り

Traitor. Betrayer.

They’re going to brand you. 

You must feel the heat licking at your skin because he sees your eyes go wild with terror. Sees the moment the screams rip harder from your throat, gag soaking with it.

This sight before him.

The sound of you struggling, fighting, handled like prey—after everything—this is all it takes.

He understands it instantly, viscerally, and an ugliness crawls within him, a weapon unsheathed. That same feeling, the one that gripped him last night slides over his being, the one he felt before he followed you into the forest. That repetition of tiny words all to form a much grander thing.

His.

Always.

But he doesn’t name it. Doesn’t think it. Doesn’t breathe it back into existence.

You were never truly his to begin with.

Sukuna takes a step.

Something must alert you to his presence, because your gaze cuts through the crowd and finds him. And you are furious. Eyes screaming into him, eyes screaming at him. And with that look, the first threads of his restraint toward you fall apart.

The King of Curses takes another patient step. 

He doesn’t need to run.

Time bends for him.

And everyone here will be dead in a heartbeat.

If only he knew of the quiet blade being drawn behind him.

[babymau5]

i wanna throw up so bad

[lordelmelloi2]

🥲

[scattered-winter]

every day i kick a rock and bash my head into the wall because i'll never get to go on a big space adventure and become tightly close-knit with my new found family up there <//3

[ame-to-ame]

.

[keeps-ache]

hm hm hm !!

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[confinesofmy]

i'm planning next week's picnic like if one thing goes wrong i'll be publicly beheaded. i'm locked in to such an absurd degree.

[wcnderlnds]

battlefield | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: running into your ex boyfriend during the squid games was the last thing you expected ・❥・word count: 719 ・❥・warnings: uh... usual squid game stuff. ・❥・ authors note: this is a short one just to test the waters but im obsessed with this man after watching squid game 2 <333

There he was. The last person you’d ever expected to see in this place. Player 230. Choi Su-Bong or, as the world knew him as, Thanos. The bright purple hair had been easy to spot. The last few months had been spent avoiding him so why did fate want to throw you together in this place? Wherever the hell this place was. You still weren’t even sure but as you walked up the stairs to the first game, you didn’t really care. All you wanted to do was lay low and make sure that Thanos didn’t see you. A conversation with your ex boyfriend was the last thing you wanted.

Things had ended badly between the two of you when he’d lost all his money thanks to the crypto scam. It had changed him, turned him into someone you didn’t recognise anymore so when the arguments started and his behaviour became erratic, you knew you had to get out of there. So, you did. You left and had never looked back. All you wanted was enough money to get out of the city and far, far away. There was nothing here for you anymore. If you could win the games then you could finally start fresh somewhere.

Walking through the doors onto a floor of sand and brightly coloured walls, you heard the voice of Thanos talking to his friend. Instantly, you looked down at the ground, hoping he didn’t see you. Unfortunately for you, he had stood next to you. His eyes scanned your face before recognition lit his eyes up.

“Senorita!” He said in a sing-song voice, wide grin on his face as he outstretched his arms. “What are you doing here? Come on, give me a hug.”

“None of your business and no thanks,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m hurt,” he splayed his hand on his chest over his heart. As much as he was using his confident swagger to irritate you, deep inside he couldn’t be more glad to see you. “Not even going to give me a chance to talk, huh? That’s stone cold.”

As the rules of the game echoed through the speakers, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. His hand had raised to his friend to stop him from talking to him so he could get a proper look at you. When you had left, that had been the breaking point for him. Everything had gone downhill from there. For so long he’d been trying to seek you out, to apologise but he knew you’d been avoiding him. Your friends wouldn’t tell him where you were, your family had chewed him out the second he had showed up on their doorstep so, eventually, he’d given up. But, here you were.

As Player 456 shouted out about the game being a lie and that you were going to die, your head shot up. Surely he couldn’t be telling the truth, right? Red Light, Green Light was a children’s game. At most you were probably going to be out of the running for the cash if you were caught moving.

“He’s crazy,” Thanos said. It was his way of trying to comfort you. He had instantly noticed the slight panic in your eyes, the way you were rubbing your hands against your thighs. “Don’t listen to him.”

All you could do was nod but there was a gut feeling inside you telling you that maybe it wasn’t entirely all crazy talk. Something about this whole thing felt off. Your eyes caught some girl talking, her hands waving around then suddenly she was on the ground. Instantly, fear gripped you, your stomach dropping. The room around you started to spin – you were really going to die here.

“Hey, hey,” Thanos had reached out, his hand gripping yours as he stood in front of you, back to you. “Stay behind me. I won’t let anything happen to you. You hear me? Stay behind me.”

“But… what if…” The sheer panic in your voice made his heart clench.

“No. We’re both getting out of here alive, okay? Now, stay behind me.” His protective instinct had kicked in. Right now, he didn’t care if you hated him. All he cared about was making sure you survived this so maybe, just maybe, he could finally make things right.

[aria0fgold]

I was thinking like, Halcyon sure is a lot put together despite his whole situation and then I thought bout a scenario and realized that oh... He's actually REALLY FRAGILE. He's as well put together as a kintsugi without the gold keeping everything in place, which is basically, TERRIBLY.

[sunni-stuff]

P1 here.

Ghost walks through the door of your home as if he owns the place, tossing his keys onto the coffee table and shrugging off his gear by the door. He remembers your address by heart and recognizes the space he's walking through once again. 

Glancing around, he expected to see you greet him at the foyer only to be met with silence. Ghost passes by your couch, gloved fingers running against the back while his mind replays the sounds of your needy moans from when he fingered you on the cushions just weeks ago.

Ghost has had countless flings and meaningless one night stands, but never did he expect any of the doves he's played with to actively call for more. 

Though he wasn't complaining.

A creaking floorboard causes his head to snap towards the stairs. There, he sees you cautiously descending, the sides of your nightgown clutched anxiously in your palms. “I didn't think you'd actually show.” 

Simon stares at you, his eyes roaming over your form, taking in every dip and curve visible through the lacey material. He lets out a heavy breath, fist clenched in deep restraint as he thanked every single god above for what's standing in front of him. “How can I ignore a civilian in need?”

Your laugh makes him still, the mirthful chuckle and the smile on your lips making the tent in his pants ache painfully.

Did you know what you were doing to him? How just your chuckles alone stirred something profound?

“So… upstairs or on the couch?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“You wanted me here, love. Dealers' choice.” Simon watches you fumble, fingers thumbing over the lacing decorating the bottom of your nightgown.

“Upstairs then.”

For Simon, everything seems to happen in blurs. Just moments ago he was standing by the stairs and the next he's in between your legs, one large hand splayed over your stomach having you lay back motioning for you to relax as he eats you out like a man starved.

He doesn't remember how he got here; all that matters now is the taste of your cunt on his tongue. Simon laps at your glossy lips, tongue gliding your sensitive folds to your clit, making sure to give both his undivided attention. He needed no words to know he was doing a good job; your knees attempting to lock behind his head was added confirmation if your whines for more weren't enough.

“Can't you just put it in?” You huff in between moans, attempting to sit up on your elbows despite his efforts to keep you down.

“Shhh…” Simon coos, pressing a fleeting kiss on your pearl before pulling away his chin and lips shining your slick. “Look at that, practically begging for me.” A thick digit runs down your slit, gathering a pool of wetness and licking it off his fingers. 

Simon gazes at your cunt, observing how just his lips hovering near causes your weeping hole to clench around nothing. He could watch this all day. Watch how badly you needed him. How only he had the privilege to hear you beg.

“Alright, fussy bird,” He stands up straight, his shadow completely consuming you, the stark differences between you two are evident. Simon is not a small man in the slightest. Everything about him screams large. His presence commands attention, from his muscular arms down to his sturdy thighs.

Simon grabs ahold of your waist, pulling you against his bulge, slowly grinding his hips up and down, teasing you along the rough fabric of his jeans. He shows a little restraint, purposely holding back in hopes of hearing more pleas. “Come on, love, tell me what you need.”

This is what you dreamed of. His hands, his voice, his lips against your skin, a true dream come true. The final stretch was so close, so near and yet he still kept you tethered to the edge. “Please, I need it,” You mewl desperately, hips bucking for more friction.

Simon chuckles lightly, watching as you practically bounce in anticipation. "Someone's in a hurry," he jokes, despite his growing ardor matching your own.

With nimble fingers, he quickly unbuttons his jeans, sliding them down along with his boxers until he's bare to you. His eyes bore into yours as he did so, a silent question in them. His large cock sprang free, bobbing up against his stomach in time with his rapid heartbeat. 

The sight of his length, standing proud and erect, was enough to intensify the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. Finally, you'd be full once again, getting to feel that cock of his in places no one else can reach. You nod all too eagerly, laying back to fully embrace everything.

With a swift lift of your hips, Simon nudges the edge of himself against you, drawing a ragged groan as he feels the wet heat of your waiting entrance. One hand grabbing his length, he slowly guided his throbbing cock against your slick folds. The head of his erection teased your entrance for a moment, before he pressed forward, burying himself inside you. “Fuck, fuck, more, please.” 

Simon can't help but smirk at your eagerness, patting your thigh appreciatively. “Can't rush things, dove. Don't want you breaking.” It's a slow push, his cock stretching your welcoming heat inch by inch. As he bottomed out, he let out a throaty groan, his fingers digging into your hips, anchoring you to him.

You cum in that exact moment, your pussy squeezing tightly around him and milking his cock. It feels like a faucet that won't stop dripping, coating his length with your sweet juices. For a brief moment you're dazed, head swimming and unable to hear anything over the sound of your heavy breathing.

“Fuck me,” he breathes, admiring the sight of you breathless. You feel like velvet, your pussy a vice he wasn’t sure he’d be able to quit. His thumb pushes against your clit and you whine, your voice high-pitched.

“Sensitive, please,” you beg, squirming until his hands force your hips down. Your lips are forced into an o shape, a silent scream forced from your chest when he does the exact opposite.

You’re not sure if you’re begging for him to stop or begging for more–it’s hard to tell when you’re being fucked within an inch of your life.

“Stay with me dove, stay with me,” Simon sneers, something depraved and feral in his voice. “Lemme make you feel good.”

Once the initial shock of cumming has passed, he begins to move inside you, setting a slow, deliberate pace. With every thrust, he claimed more of you, your bodies moving together in synchronicity. The scent of your sex mingled in the confined space of your bedroom, intensifying the intimate atmosphere.

Simon closes his eyes, wanting to savor the moment. Everything about this is mesmerizing. He'd rather be here than anywhere else in the world.

A hitched moan has him opening his eyes, his gaze boring into yours, wanting to see every flicker of pleasure that passes through you. Thank you, god, Simon thinks. He could feel himself teetering on the edge, but he held on, wanting to draw this pleasure out as long as possible. He wanted to give you everything and more.

“Feel like heaven,” he breathes. “Is this what you wanted? Wanted me nice and deep huh?”

His palm presses on your stomach where his cock bulges the skin, his grin wicked. “Poor girl, can’t make herself cum so she had to call me, yeah?”

You nod, a symphony of yes yes yes escaping you as Simon bears down upon you, the bed rocking with each movement.

“Had to call me because you know no one can fuck you like I can,” he says, “say it for me, c’mon.”

You hiccup through every word. “N-No one can fuck me—oh god—like you Si’—”

Your words make his ego grow, muttering of that's fuckin’ right streaming from his lips as he comes, the feeling sending your nerves on overdrive. 

As he felt you tightening around him, he knew you were close—as close as he was. His hand slipped between their bodies, his fingers finding your sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure. He stroked in rhythm with his thrusts, chasing your orgasm with his.

Your pleasure peaked simultaneously, his cum filling you as you cum around him, walls clenching and rippling along his length in your aftershock. After a moment, he pulls out carefully, the room filled with your heavy breathing. 

Neither of you spoke for a while, simply staring back at each other through lust-filled eyes and flushed cheeks. Simon starts his retreat, stepping back to make distance and pulling up his pants. Your hand on his makes him pause. He raises a brow, confused by your actions. He opens his mouth but you're quicker.

“We aren't done.”

-

The original prompt was supposed to be a little thing; but so many people liked it, so here <3! This most likely won't be a series.

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