#ill write up more stories soon! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lightseoul · 2 months ago

Text

HOLD ME CLOSE (HOLD ME TIGHT) (3.8k)

pairing. k. bakugou x reader

synopsis. masaru has a stroke that nearly kills him. bakugou handles it well—until he doesn’t.

cw. pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (32), established relationship, mentions of illness, themes of grief, discussions of past trauma (bkg's)

a/n. i hope y'all cry because this made me cry lmao. writing really is easy if you take heavy inspiration from your personal experiences lol. this is written from bkg's pov, and serves as a mini character analysis as well ig?

bakugou remembers it clear as day.

it was only a few weeks after the two of you celebrated his 32nd birthday in a secluded resort out of town when he got the call.

he was in the middle of chastising his klutz of a sidekick’s ear off for forgetting to submit an important case report when his phone started ringing, and the very fact that it wasn’t your ringtone further soured his already worsening mood.

with a final reprimand laced with an hr-appropriate amount of expletives, he dismissed the rookie, leaving him alone in his pristine, corner office.

he recalls sighing in annoyance upon seeing the caller id, as well as his clipped tone when he greeted the old hag with a curt, “what.”

that annoyance was immediately replaced with alarm, however, when his usually bright mother spoke into the microphone, her typically level voice shaking with unmistakable fear.

“it’s your father, katsuki…” she started, and he instantly braced himself for the impact.

mitsuki takes a shaky inhale. “…he’s having a stroke. we’re on the way to the hospital. please, come here.”

he didn’t need to be told twice.

he remembers being on autopilot—the entire way to the suburban peripheries of musutafu where his parents decided to move after he got his own place at the age of 22. he’s not entirely sure—the journey over now a hazy blur—but he might’ve sent you the link to his location, because you magically arrived at the local hospital around fifteen minutes after him.

the moment he saw you burst into the entrance of the emergency room, a huge, tidal wave of relief immediately washed over him, he thought he could’ve collapsed. the second you lock eyes, he witnessed a whirlwind of emotions dance across your beautiful features, before you ran over to where he stood near the vending machine, unceremoniously crashing into his arms.

at that point, he had no idea what made you drop everything—including the precious work that you do—and just follow him based on an ambiguous gps locator he sent you without context, but he was glad you did.

because it was only as you held him so close to you all the while soothing his back and chanting soft ‘it’s okay’s’ in his ear did it hit him.

the fact that he’s fucking terrified.

it must’ve been at least three hours of stewing in tense silence in the emergency room’s waiting area before the two of you finally saw mitsuki.

he remembers the way his heart ached when he first laid eyes on his mother, someone who’s typically radiant and spirited and happy, now looking too frail and painfully vulnerable.

words weren’t exchanged as the three of you walked towards each other, and he promptly engulfed his mother into a tight hug before he could talk himself out of it.

“how is he?” he whispered into the side of her head, choosing to ask then, in the middle of a hug, because he didn’t know if he could stand the look on her face when she answered.

“he’s alive,” she managed to get out, but she said it so tentatively that he knew it was too soon to feel any sort of relief.

“but…?” he recalls asking with bated breath.

“it was a hemorrhagic stroke. it’s… it’s bad, katsuki.”

it wasn’t until a few more hours later, when the two of you were finally granted permission to enter masaru’s hospital room together with mitsuki, did he realize what bad meant.

some parts of this story are blurry now, but the way his stomach dropped at the sight of his father remains to be unforgettable.

the sight of him paralyzed, head to toe.

masaru remained confined in the hospital for a few weeks more after that. the three of you took turns—one would go home to clean up and catch some sleep while the remaining two kept watch and assisted the man.

you almost got booted out of there on the second day, with the nurse saying only immediate family was allowed due to overcrowding in the hospital, but bakugou was quick to step in and say you were practically married.

when the nurse politely pressed for more details while looking pointedly at your ring finger and the lack of a wedding band, he lied and said you forgot to wear it in your rush to get there.

she didn’t seem too convinced, but she thankfully let it go, probably because it was #2 pro-hero dynamight who said so, eventually exiting the room after checking masaru’s vitals.

he remembers you heaving a sigh of relief once the three of you were left alone, tossing him a small smile that sent a familiar shot of longing straight to his veins.

one day, he recalls thinking to himself, you will be married.

just—not now.

the first day home was as much of a nightmare as he expected it to be.

growing up, and until that moment, he never really found himself wanting siblings.

sure, it got pretty lonely during his childhood, but he almost always had kids following him around what with how flashy his quirk is, and he had izuku, which he can now admit was (and still is) his best friend.

plus, you always said you loved how he’d roughhouse you, which you chalked up to him being an only child and not having had the opportunity to do that with anyone else.

but, as the three of you struggled to lift masaru out of the car and into his newly minted wheelchair, he remembers wishing for a brother or a sister who could lend a helping hand and make sure all of masaru’s numb body parts were carefully looked out for.

it’s fucking hilarious, how he didn’t just lift his father all by himself with his pro-hero muscles, but the fear of accidentally hurting him even more turned out to be more paralyzing than he anticipated.

not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

not even you.

but as he watched you and his mother fluttering around, tending to masaru’s needs not even a minute you get in the house, it struck him that maybe he should.

you might not be his sibling (thank god, no), but you will most likely become his parents’ daughter if things go his way.

and, whether he liked it or not, he’s got to do something about the growing ache in his chest that’s only growing wider by the second.

the next few weeks he spent busying himself with the stuff that came with looking after a stroke patient.

mitsuki, who’s done nothing but throw herself into caring for her husband, insisted on helping him find the people they needed, but bakugou didn’t even let her get a word in.

when he tucked himself into bed right next to you later that night in his new bedroom (you moved in with him to his parents’ despite his protests), he recalls ranting about how the old hag was getting on his nerves with her inability to just let him handle shit.

“have i ever been incompetent?” he huffed, turning on his side so he could lie facing you. “it’s like she doesn’t even trust me.”

“i think the two of you just want the same for the other, kats,” came your steady yet gentle voice, not missing a beat and totally unfazed by his petulant behavior.

“…waddya mean?”

you reached out to caress his cheek, and he remembers how soft your fingers felt and how his eyes momentarily fluttered close at the warmth.

at the sight, you flashed him a sad smile before pressing on.

“you’re both hurting, but the two of you would rather carry the weight by yourselves instead of burdening the other. it’s how you and mitsuki show you care.”

he didn’t say anything after that.

at least, for a while.

finally, he spoke up. “…i just don’t like to be bossed around, is all.”

to that, you only tossed him a knowing look. “yup, just that. definitely. never mind your immense sense of responsibility and the stubborn yet admirable way you carry everybody’s bur—”

“yeah, yeah,” he cut you off before you could ramble any further. “i get it.”

seemingly satisfied, you grinned up at him before pulling him close, cradling his head by your chest.

with the new position, he could feel your familiar, rhythmic heartbeat.

your heartbeat that he liked to listen to for reassurance—telltale evidence that you’re alive and right next to him, and that no villain has wrestled you out of his firm grip.

and as he lay there snuggled into you and listening to the consistent pulse, he found his frantic, loud thoughts slowly but steadily being lulled to a hum.

thoughts that he knew you’d kick to the moon if you found out he’s been thinking them.

thoughts like maybe he’s just selfishly gatekeeping all the tasks so he could distract himself from the pain that’s threatening to swallow him whole.

thoughts like maybe he deserved this for all the wrong he’s done growing up.

thoughts like maybe his mother would be in far less pain if it were him instead of his saint of a father who had to go through this.

he fell into a fitted sleep that night.

after a few more weeks of searching for and screening applicants, and with your and mitsuki’s approval, he finally settled on a stay-in caregiver and physical therapist.

it took quite a while for the two to learn the ropes and master how he wanted things to be done around here, but they eventually got there, and when they did, they cleared a lot of stuff that has been on everybody’s plates ever since masaru had the stroke.

with that, mitsuki insisted the two of you go home to your shared condominium and get back into working full-time again, but neither of you relented. he tried to get you to return, not wanting to hold you back from the important things that you do, but you were quick to dismiss him.

he didn’t tell you then and there, but he secretly wished you would.

he’d never confess this to anybody, but he’d definitely crumble without you around.

he remembers one specific thursday, when you first started getting masaru into exercising his left, albeit non-dominant hand, by drawing.

it was silly, but he recalls not even being able to look his father in the eye as the two of you sat across from him who was plastered in his wheelchair, a small coffee table between you, on which sat a piece of paper, a pencil, a box of crayons, and an all might plushie you swiftly grabbed from his bedroom.

and as he sat there avoiding his father’s gaze, he watched you as you talked animatedly to the man, explaining the deceivingly simple activity: he just had to try and draw the plushie, after which, if he still had the energy, he could color in using the crayons you dug out from bakugou’s drawers.

but masaru wasn’t having it.

the man only stared at you in disinterest as you tried your best to engage him. despite himself, bakugou felt indignation creep up his spine.

he knew. fuck, he really did. after he made sure you’ve fallen asleep, he had spent nights researching his father’s condition, poring over mountains and mountains of information all in the name of being able to better understand and help him.

so he knew—he knew that strokes, especially severe ones, can cause noticeable changes in one’s personality, at least in the short term. it can turn someone sensitive and in tune with others’ emotions into someone who’s apathetic and seemingly self-absorbed.

still, that knowledge doesn’t stop him from jumping on his feet when masaru, his kind, sweet father, angrily wiped off the table with his left arm, sending the materials you worked hard to gather scattered all over the floor.

and, before he could stop himself: “hey!”

you were onto him in an instant, a soothing albeit restraining hold on his shoulder. “katsuki, it’s okay.”

he was about to open his mouth to spit venom when he felt you tighten your grip. he didn’t have to glance at you to know you were looking at him the way you always did when you were begging him to stay quiet.

and because he loved (loves) you, he did.

and as he wordlessly picked up the papers and pens in silence, he couldn’t help but mourn over his father, and the patience and calmness that characterized his being.

the very patience and calmness that he always wished he had, instead of his temper and aggressiveness, because that’s what you, of all people, deserved.

and then the all-too-familiar guilt hit him again.

because why was he acting like his father died, when he was still very much alive?

simple, bakugou thought to himself.

it’s because it feels like he has.

his relationship with masaru didn’t get better after that.

he’d been trying, he really had been. if not for you, who’d been tending to his father like he was your very own, then for his mother, whose fatigue and sadness have been chipping away at her by the minute.

he was washing the dishes in the kitchen after you’ve had dinner—all the while his parents watched tv in the living room—when you walked in, a couple more dirty plates in tow.

he wouldn’t have noticed he was glaring down at the brick of butter on the shelf if you didn’t point it out.

“a few more seconds and that’s gonna melt,” you quipped.

he looked back at you, gears in his head turning for a beat, before he chuckled half-heartedly and turned back to the sink.

behind him, he recalls hearing a click, which he now identifies as you putting down the plates on the kitchen island, before he felt your arms wrap around his middle, encasing him in a hug.

your voice was smooth when you drawled out, “what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, baby?”

still, and despite all the shit that’s been going on in his life, he still found himself shuddering at the pet name.

“nothing.”

“really?” came your immediate response. “because i was getting kinda jealous with how hard you were staring at that butter.”

at that, bakugou couldn’t help but snort. you followed suit, that delightful laugh echoing across the small room.

“stupid,” he simply retorted, although both of you knew there was no bite to it.

you didn’t press him for more after that, choosing to just hold yourself against his back in comfortable silence—which he now knows he’s grateful for.

because at that time, he couldn’t have told you he was feeling nothing but resentment for his pitiful father.

his pitiful father who loved to put butter in virtually every dish he whipped up.

his pitiful father who probably wouldn’t be pitiful if he just led an active lifestyle, monitored his health, and made better choices so that his poor mother wouldn’t have to go through all this.

his train of thought was interrupted, however, when a pang of that same old guilt hit his chest, and then he was once again flooded with scalding shame.

because what else should he be feeling for his father aside from empathy, as someone who has had far too many brushes with death itself?

“…katsuki?”

he recalls jolting ever so minutely, before turning his head to look at you, who, by then, was already standing behind him, apparently already having released him from the hug.

“huh?”

“i was just asking you,” you continued as if he didn’t just zone out. “our friends want to come by and visit, if you’re okay with it. is that alright with you?”

the last thing he needed was for his nerd-ass friends to visit and witness his family’s dirty laundry, which would inevitably be aired out for them to see given the circumstances. his entire life, he always, always, kept those from prying eyes, even if they were his closest buddies’.

but, at the mention of his friends, he found his heart clenching in yearning despite himself.

and so, before he could talk himself out of it, he nodded in approval.

“…and so that’s how i saved the little girl who was convinced i was the bad guy!”

he remembers everyone in the room erupting in laughter at kirishima’s story, even masaru, who’s been steadily gaining control of the left side of his body back.

his right has seen little to no improvement, but you and mitsuki have been making it a point to celebrate every win, no matter how small.

at kirishima’s gag, bakugou himself couldn’t help the somewhat imperceptible smirk that encroached on his face, which izuku, unfortunately, caught sight of. the #1 pro-hero beamed at him, and it took bakugou every ounce of self-control not to roll his eyes at the nerd.

“what about you, midoriya-kun?” asked mitsuki, who’s seated on a stool right beside her husband, who’s nestled comfortably in the reclining chair you got him about a month ago.

at the call out, the green-haired man shifted his attention to the lady, before sheepishly retorting with: “oh, i just try to be funny.”

that granted him his round of laughter, and this time bakugou finally allowed himself to give into the visceral urge to roll his eyes.

he must’ve been being so obvious with his expressions, because it’s you who managed to catch him again, shooting him a chastising but nevertheless playful look.

before he could wink at you or do anything in response, though, he recalls mitsuki standing up quite abruptly, startling the five of you.

you shot her a question before anyone else could. “what is it, mitsuki-san?”

“i didn’t notice! we’ve run out of tea and snacks. sorry—” she leaned down to get the trays, “—let me get some mo—”

“i’ll do it!” volunteered the ever-good-natured izuku, who moved so fast the plates were on him before the rest could blink.

“i’ll help the nerd,” bakugou added, standing up before taking some of the cups from his rival lest the latter drops them.

at the uncharacteristically generous offer, izuku once again beamed at him, which bakugou immediately dismissed with a wave of a hand.

the short trek to the kitchen was quiet amidst the background noise, which has been brought up a notch thanks to kirishima’s vivid storytelling.

without a word, bakugou gestured where to get a refill on the snacks while he busied himself with brewing more tea.

the silence that engulfed them was comfortable—familiar—that was, until, izuku broke it.

“thanks again, kacchan.”

bakugou felt his eye twitch at the nickname. “for what?”

izuku turned on his feet to regard his best friend, a grateful smile gracing his boyish features. “for letting me and ei visit. i just wanted you to know i appreciate it. i’m sure it’s not easy having guests around while, you know…”

he wasn’t about to tell the nerd he and kirishima were the only ones he felt comfortable enough to visit at the moment, so he merely nodded.

(un)fortunately, the greenhead took it as a sign to continue.

“she’s been amazing, huh?”

bakugou met the man’s soft gaze, which was directed toward you.

“yeah,” came his sure reply. he remembers not even knowing where to start, so he just simply left it at that.

a pregnant pause.

“you’ve been doing great, too, kacchan.”

that caught him off guard.

he must’ve looked stunned, because izuku shrugged quite timidly, before: “we all see how hard you’re working.”

the #1 pro-hero hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether or not to say the next thing, ultimately deciding for it.

“…but don’t forget to take care of yourself, too, alright?”

and just as fast as he scooped the trays back in the living room, izuku patted him on the shoulder before taking the cups from him and waltzing rather clumsily out of the kitchen.

later that night, bakugou found himself unable to fall asleep.

it’s been ages since you both got into bed, and you were now on your side with your back turned against him, probably already fast asleep.

he recalls just staring up at the off-white ceiling, playing back in his head the earlier conversation he had with izuku again and again and again.

“you’ve been doing great, too, kacchan,” was what the nerd said.

if he only knew.

if he only knew the terrible thoughts that had been plaguing his mind since shit went down.

there’s a reason why he hasn’t said a single word about the things he’d been thinking since day one.

there’s a reason why he’s kept all of this shit to himself even though they were fucking heavy to carry all on his own.

it was because he was scared of them, and even more scared of what people would make of him when he finally verbalized them into existence.

what you would make of him.

he’s spent most of his life running away from who he used to be, that the mere thought that he might have just always been that guy this entire time is like a fucking 100% detroit smash to the gut.

he didn’t even notice he was crying until he felt a single tear go down the side of his face.

he quickly reached up to wipe it away.

to his horror, he felt you shift beside him, and he found himself frozen in fear as he waited for you to settle into another position in your sleep.

but that didn’t come.

instead, he remembers so, so clearly how you turned to face him—absolutely, evidently wide awake—with such a worried expression on your gorgeous face, and how he just completely lost it at the sight of you.

he remembers how you scooped him into your arms as ugly sobs finally wracked his body, how you led his arms to wrap around your waist to help anchor him as he cried into your chest.

he remembers the soothing circles you rubbed on his back as you started to cry with him, your sniffles the only thing he heard aside from his own weeping.

he remembers the way your voice cracked when you started whispering ‘i’m here’s’ in his ear. and, he doesn’t know if it’s because that line carries a massive fucking weight for him, or that it’s you—the love of his life—who’s saying them, but the words wash over the entirety of his exhausted body like a violent storm, leaving him shivering in its wake.

he remembers deciding then and there, that he was going to tell you everything.

maybe tomorrow, but not now.

for now, and in the safety of your arms, he finds himself finally allowing the grief—the grief that he’s unknowingly been trying to tamp down—to come forward and make itself known.

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 have a nice day!

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #mha imagines #bnha imagines #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugou drabble

1K notes · View notes

amsznn · 2 months ago

Note

can you do dad matt and chris's different reactions to their daughter getting her first period while her mom wasn't home 😭😂 (i also really love your writing your amazing 💗🫂)

GROWING UP - c. and m. sturniolo

chris:

chris’ afternoon had been going smoothly. he lightly plopped onto the living room couch, ready to relax for the next couple of hours.

you had left to work on some brand deals with your team, leaving him to tend with your two daughters.

luckily for him your youngest had dance practice so he would only have to pick her up in a couple of hours. And your eldest was in her room, finishing up her homework.

everything had been normal when she came home. she greeted chris as per usual and rambled on about her day, which chris always listened intently to. then she finished the snack chris had prepared for her before she came home. Finally she thanked her dad and went to her room.

so imagine chris’ confusion as to when he heard blood curdling screams coming from his daughter’s room.

mid movie, chris jumped up and ran upstairs. of course he didnt want to barge in so he hurriedly knocked.

“honey? you okay?” he asked with worry. he could hear the light sobs of your daughter through the door and swung it open.

“dad, can you call mom?” your daughter asked through broken sobs. chris of course whipped out his phone and without a thought dialed your number.

as he approached further he could see the light patch of blood on the girls bed and put two and two together.

chris was still trying to find the right words to comfort his daughter and unfortunately you weren’t answering.

“hey, theres no need to cry, here.” chris said has he jumbled up the sheets and placed them in the laundry basket.

“your mom told you all about this before right?” he asked as she nodded. “so why dont you go clean up and ill get of some ice cream?” your daughter wiped away her tears and smiled.

chris gave her a light peck on the head and went to go wash the sheets.

in the end your daughter calmed down with the help of your husband (and ice cream), and you were in for a story when you came back home.

matt:

matt’s experience was similar to chris’, except his daughter was way more calm about it.

it was just a regular weekend afternoon and you had gone to brunch with your friends, leaving matt and your daughter at the house.

matt and your daughter had decided to spend some time together. playing board games, eating food they baked, and watching some movies.

it was on their second movie when your daughter had gotten up to use the bathroom. matt had taken this opportunity to send you a few texts since your daughter had a strict ‘no phones when watching movies’ rules. he stopped texting when he heard a faint

“daaad..”

“yes..?” he answered a bit confused. but he got up anyways and made his way towards the bathroom

“do you know where mom keeps the pads?” his daughter asked and honestly, it took him a minute to process what was happening. of course he didnt want to freak her out even more.

“uh- yeah, theyre in the bin on the rack.” he said with a cough, dialing your number in the process. lets just say, you were speeding home to give your daughter some emotional support.

a/n: sorry for any requests that havent been submitted, im gonna go through all them pretty soon once i have the time!

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #dad chris sturniolo #matt x reader

685 notes · View notes

dexaroth · 2 years ago

Text

looong post about missing using backpacks and high-school experiences and personal feelings on the general 'busy/executive' look from carrying luggage and stuff. idk lots of thoughts here to summarize

theres this one hole that being done with high-school left me that's just. having a place to go. being busy, sort of..

having a backpack full of trinkets and your pencil case filled with clips and highlighters. or the rare bunches of printing and colored paper for the art projects or those mathematical rulers you used 3 times the whole year

and most importantly.. the feeling of being a Guy who has Places to go. look at all this luggage! the amount of things I need that goes beyond a simple bag! quite the work eh?

of course half of that perception is just 'wow! executive adult with responsibilities!' but not entirely, there are definitely tasks that require a lot of gear and stuff. filming crews, folks with laptops etc. and then there's the elusive Guy with a Big Bag With Wheels. thats the peak of the ideal

as with everything in my life specifically it all circles back to being disabled and having to stay at home bc I literally am not capable of physically doing anything even remotely close to what the generic student/employed person does and I think that helps a lot to the kind of romanticized view I have of this sorta thing

in a good day a majority of people would rather not have to carry and worry about a pack full of stuff or having to carry the weight of a computer and then some. but it's not that bad if you like/love what you're doing even if it requires those things yknow?

every year of high-school, even if it was the worst experience of my life that degraded me mentally physically and made me so fucked I had to cut myself in between or during classes.. I still looked up to the starting week and the feeling of a kind of new beginning. and packing everything to be super ready to whatever was to come like I was about to spend a month in the wild or climb a mountain

camping and stuff is another kind of 'look at all this shit we're packing and gadgets we have to make fire or little lanterns or makeshift homes (tents) that we have' and its just. holy shit man you sure are busy with a lot of stuff to do huh. and you've got the money to buy it all and friends to enjoy it with you. and you're going to the woods for fun and not to run away from your life because everything sucks. you've got your life all figured out! if only I could also match this unrealistic utopic vision that's sold in every sleeping bag package lol! 🙃

and the rest of this romanticized view also extends a bit to gender and self esteem in a way

of course I, a disabled person, would love to be a person that Can go places and even Has places to go and is important enough to have a complex task that needs all that luggage. and looks like a guy. maybe even a fancy guy with fancy bags and fancy clothing. it's all very important, being all that! unlike being a nobody that has to ask for a seat bc he can't stand for 2 minutes without crumpling like a wet sock because of his fucked up spine and spaghetti muscles

everybody looks up to someone who has something that they don't and wish they had or were like.. and I'm so miserable I just wish I mattered enough to be that average guy crossing the street with his bag on his shoulder. and it just so happens that's asking too much of life in my case

#i even managed to find possibly the prettiest backpack that ive had for like 6 years or more by now #when we were re-stocking on school supplies one year #its got more than 8 pockets on the front and is a silvery black with a subtle camo pattern in it. everyhting i could ask for #and its just picking up dust in my wardrobe now. i legit feel bad bc its such a good backpack #last year i had a college class that actualy required writing materials (unlike the other programming classes which had the uni's pcs)#and i was so excited! finally i can justify using my backpack!! but the weight was just not worth it bc of my back. and i already had a>#>notebook binder that was good enough so.. no luck.#self harm mention #<can never go too long without mentioning it huh..#its hard not to.. just prodding my brain for any crumble of memory of the time i was still in highschool but its all gone. pure fog.#and to have the parts that i do remember being genuine torture and making me want to kill myself every week because of it #suicide mention #<lol anyways. its just crazy. to think i somehow managed to scrape by living like that for a decade despite it all #knowing full well the amount of pain it was to go through 3(?) stories of stairs at least twice everyday carrying 5 books in my back..#..and still longing for just the image. of being someone once. going Somewhere. the privilege-even if temporary-of having a path to follow #college will start soon and while it isnt as soul crushing as hs was it does not spark a single grain of joy in me.#even if i got to use my backpack and pretend i had something to do id still be doing it with distaste. its not fun anymore.#everything fucking sucks and i dont know how much else ill be able to block it and pretend i dont fully exist.i wanna strangle someone‼

1 note · View note

saintobio · 9 months ago

Text

sincerely yours. (10)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. depression, intoxication, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships,

notes. important announcement ! as you all know, this series has always had an extensive approach into detailing the events in its side stories (ie. sera x sukuna x naoya, yuuji x megumi, maki x yuuta x miwa, etc), but while writing the chapters, the word count and the plot building had become too exhausting for me to produce consistently, esp with the amount of scenes and side stories i was introducing to the story, so i've decided it's best for me to stick to the main characters, reader & gojo, and will only add side stories as necessary. this really hurts me knowing that i can't achieve the level of comprehensive writing and world building that i did for sincerely not, but i really want to finish sy as soon as possible and removing a chunk of side stories would be some of the things that'd help me achieve that 😭 i hope you guys understand. hopefully i'll figure out a way to write those side stories instead of completely abandoning them mid-way in this series. but as always, thanks for ur continued support <3

series masterlist -> episode eleven

“It’s a little weird.”

What was supposed to be her bed time had turned into a moment of reflection for Sera who, instead of being fast asleep at this time of the night, had unconsciously brought herself inside Sukuna’s home office to join the up-and-coming tech mogul in his late-night programming.

She wore her silk pajamas, pacing back and forth in her boyfriend’s office as her mind flew back to the recent encounter she had with her ex-boyfriend. Who knew that Satoru’s kid would look just like a carbon copy of him? No, actually, the question should be: who knew it would be a different woman by his side acting as the mother of his child? Sera had to laugh at herself, shaking her head as she realized how truly and undeniably ridiculous her ex was. It was clear that day that he wasn’t really as loyal of a partner as he claimed himself to be.

Did he really just go through all those crazy things with you, only to look like a whore-hopping fool now?

If he was bound to end up with someone else other than you, then why did he have to make Sera’s life miserable in the first place?

She may have done terrible things before as a selfish and materialistic lover of his, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Satoru also contributed to her role as the side-piece in his marital relationship. He allowed her to cling to him like a mistress. Being his side-piece wasn’t even something that she had forced upon him. It was his promise, an idea that he planted on Sera’s head, saying that she would need to stay by his side and that he would marry her guaranteed that he had already secured the merger and divorced you. He swore like a fool that he would divorce you. But guess what? The jerk ended up falling in love with his wife and suddenly had no use of Sera. Suddenly, he was such a good husband who couldn’t be more loyal. Suddenly, he was a lovestruck man who had always been in love with his childhood friend. If he had downright dumped Sera the moment his engagement was announced, if he had not been prideful and ambitious since the beginning of his marriage, he probably would have had better luck at having that healthy relationship he yearned from you.

But how come the blame of being the third-party was all on Sera when her only mistake then was loving the person who promised her all the good things in life?

Now, you see, this was all just bitterness brewing at the back of her head. She knew what she did was still wrong and that she wasn’t innocent. Sera swore to herself that she would never look back on those awful days ever again, but seeing how Satoru was running around freely with a different woman just reminded Sera of his days as a spiteful, two-timing man. Somehow, it felt like he had changed and yet didn’t at all.

Ha ha ha. How ridiculous was that?

“What’s funny?” asked Sukuna, her present boyfriend and thankfully so. He was Sera’s blessing, because she never would have thought that a man like him could still exist in a world full of Satoru’s and Naoya’s. “You look cute smiling to yourself, though.”

“I know,” she responded to the compliment, shifting to settle herself on his lap, though his attention remained fixed on his laptop screen. “It's just strange to me,” she continued, her voice thoughtful, “how Gojou appears his usual self, yet there's something off about him.”

The question clouded Sukuna’s eyes in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he tried to comprehend her description. “You mean dude got uglier?”

I wish, Sera thought. “No, he’s… he’s different. The vibes are different. For a second, he even looked like he was dissociating the whole time he was with that girl,” she said, referring to Satoru’s new girl as though she was your cheap alternative, “But then again, why is he with her in the first place if he looks absent-minded the whole time, you know what I mean?”

“Was he like that with you before?”

“At times, but it’s not like the way he’s acting right now… I don’t know, I can’t explain it. The energy is off. That’s just not how he acts when he’s really, really into someone.”

To be honest, Sukuna didn’t give a damn about Satoru Gojou’s life and any normal boyfriend wouldn’t really like hearing their girlfriend talking about another man, especially her ex at that, but he knew Sera found joy in old money gossip and he was aware of the demoralizing past she has had by associating herself with them. Sukuna was acting all engaged in their conversation because he wanted to make her feel heard and that he shared her simple joys in life. Besides, it was through her that he learned so many inside scoops about the people that ran the country’s biggest conglomerates. It was like watching one heck of a messy episode of Dynasty.

“Didn’t he get into a car accident?” he recalled, remembering the headlines on the news that day, “Then, we saw him at the expo and he couldn’t really remember you. The guy’s probably got his head all messed up.”

Sera was bitter at the time thinking that Satoru was toying with her when he asked who she was, when the truth was, he was actually diagnosed with amnesia. It was such a shock to her, truthfully, because having amnesia felt like something you would only see on a movie’s screen. Well, in that case, she could also say karma’s a bitch. The director might be onto something here.

“He’s probably not mentally fine, but still…” she thought carefully and played the scene in her head again. What was it about the Gojou that she saw the other day that was different? “He just has a different vibe to him that it feels uncomfortable. It’s like he’s rude, but not so rude? He doesn’t have much of a personality anymore. Like a complete stranger.”

“Maybe it’s the new girl rubbing off on him.” Sukuna was back to typing on his laptop as he said that. Frankly, he was just saying anything at this point.

Sera shook her head in response. “Well, I don’t know about that girl he’s seeing and I don’t really care, but it’s common knowledge to the filthy rich that she’s Y/N’s best friend. That’s why I recognized her right away, and that’s why it disgusted me,” she pressed on, “Tell me, would you—and be honest about this—would you fuck your best friend’s ex?”

The humor on her boyfriend’s face came right as she asked that. “Babe, you fucked a married man. It’s worse than fucking somebody’s ex.”

“Shut up.” Rolling her eyes, she got up from his lap and sighed, but Sukuna wasted no time in pulling her back onto his lap. His chuckle was mingling with the gentle kiss he had planted on her cheek, unaware that his actions made Sera’s heart flutter. “Forget it. I shouldn’t even be talking about Satoru with you.”

The man stretched his arms and finally closed his laptop, patting Sera’s thigh afterwards. “On that note, I do have another ‘dude from your past’ that I gotta meet tomorrow.”

Her reaction alone was a response for him. “Naoya?” she protested, face contorting with disgust. “What for? I told you not to take on that project.”

“Yeah, I considered it, and you know, the partnership could really benefit CleaveTech,” Sukuna reasoned, leaning back as he outlined the situation to her from a business standpoint. Given her own background working for the Gojou Group before, he expected her to grasp the significance of this partnership and set aside any personal grievances or emotional attachments. “The Zen'in Group is a major client. It’s all pros and no cons here.”

“The contra is the guy you’re gonna work with,” she highlighted with a hint of annoyance rising from her throat, “Naoya is nothing but an opportunistic motherfucker. Mind you, he’s a stupid elitist, too.”

He held back a laugh, not even threatened by a man who had a terrible history with his girlfriend. “Nah, I’ll deal with him. Just trust me on this.”

As much as Sera wanted to object, she knew Sukuna had a point and that she really shouldn’t hinder his company from being partnered with such a large conglomerate. She just didn’t like the thought of her boyfriend being around a man who manipulated and humiliated her to the point where she had been blacklisted by multiple companies, leaving her to resort to being somewhat of a prostitute just to make ends meet.

The world was harsh for the not-so-rich, and all Sera wanted was to give those upper class people a taste of their own medicine. But seeing as her desire for revenge would clash with her boyfriend’s chance at company growth, she had to set aside her personal grudge and support him on this one.

Still, there was nothing wrong with being curious. “Is there any other reason you agreed to this partnership?”

Sukuna smirked as if he expected that question from her. “Blame it on my little brother, he’s been bugging me ‘bout it.”

“Yuuji?” Sera asked, clearly confused.

To which her boyfriend quickly answered, “Yeah. He said it’ll give him an opportunity to work with his best friend. You know that kid, Fushiguro, right?”

Ahh. Toji’s kid aka the heir to the Zen’in business empire. Sera had met Megumi before, and while that other brat Mai used to be unreasonably rude to her, the younger boy was always civil and respectful at least. He never even once treated Sera like dirt when she was spending time with Naoya at their mansion. Perhaps their upbringing really differed because he was raised by Toji and the other Zen’ins were raised by demons.

Nevertheless, with a connection now established between Sukuna and Naoya through Yuuji and Megumi, Sera couldn’t help but feel that her peaceful days as a nouveau riche were about to become far more intriguing. Depending on the cards she would choose to play, they could even turn into a living nightmare.

— —

You weren’t exactly abandoning your company; you were merely taking a break, a necessary pause given your current mental state after the whole break-up with Toji and the Osaka thing. Your mind was just too overwhelmingly occupied to even properly function. Each day, mustering the energy to show up at Hearte's head office became increasingly challenging, especially when faced with individuals who relied on you for major decisions and creative direction.

To make matters worse, Akemi’s sudden resignation hit hard.

You received her decision by a simple letter, a mere piece of paper, without even having the guts and decency to meet with you in person. Was she scared? Or was this her way of rubbing salt on the wound, shoving it in your face that she was now taking things to the next level with your ex-husband?

She did cite in her resignation letter that her reason for resigning from the role was due to conflict of interest. You wanted to laugh when you read that part. No, you wanted to choke in your fit of laughter after reading through her asinine reasons. She could have been upfront and mentioned that the so-called ‘conflict’ was the very man her best friend had previously married.

Obviously, everyone in the office felt sad knowing that a core member of the company left without at least a 30-day notice, but they were all also aware that her resignation was due to personal albeit controversial reasons. Did Akemi not care about her image at all? The same colleagues she had trained, managed, and collaborated with would now likely gossip about her behind her back. She would become a hot topic of disrespect among the people that once heavily respected her. Did she also not care about the company you two created together anymore? This was the same company you two had passionately dreamed of during your late-night conversations on a New York rooftop. She was the one who wanted to build a fashion house together with you.

Yet, it seemed she was willing to throw it all away for a man already entangled in complicated familial dynamics. Her immediate resignation and refusal to speak to you in person just further confirmed it to you that Akemi was willing to forsake your friendship by choosing a man who already had a child with someone else.

Since she chose that path, you couldn’t help but interpret Akemi’s actions as a deliberate slight against your friendship. It seemed clear that she no longer viewed you as a friend and was essentially cutting ties with you. Otherwise, why would she take such a step? Akemi wasn’t the type to be vindictive; she likely believed she was sparing you further pain by severing your connection. However, regardless of her intentions, her actions felt deeply disrespectful and hurtful.

If this was what she wanted, then kudos to her and her unbelievable confidence to choose a man like Satoru Gojou. Besides, it didn’t even take you a week to find another replacement. Your family connections were powerful after all. You readily had a pool of potential candidates for the role of the Head of Sales, Retail, and Merchandising—all from prestigious backgrounds and unparalleled expertise. While the competition was tough, you selected the person you deemed was the most qualified to be your second-in-command. This was someone you had esteemed since college, a person who excelled in both business acumen and creative vision.

Yuki Tsukumo. She was influential in every sense, and you trusted that she would be able to manage the high pressure environment of a start-up fashion house and transform it into an iconic brand, a household name that would one day rival Chanel and Miu Miu.

You may have succeeded in replacing Akemi. You may have shown her that her position in the workforce was easily replaceable, but her role as your friend still left a lingering, repugnant mark that proved far more difficult to erase. This underlying sentiment could explain the unreasonable anger festering in your heart—a visceral reaction born from feelings of backstabbing betrayal.

It was hard enough for you to travel all the way to Osaka with a broken heart, but it became much more agonizing to watch your own son run up to Akemi like she was his mother. It was a goddamn slap to your face, indeed, to see that your ex-husband had already chosen a woman to have his happy, little family with. That he wanted to be a good man and be everything you wished for in a husband for her.

As they say, nothing hurts more than building a man for another woman.

And honestly? You cried so much on the way home that you became numb. Now, you were just trying to get over it. You were trying to bury the searing pain in order to forget the betrayal you felt. It was all too much for a person to handle and it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone through the same old shit before. Wasn’t it worse before with Satoru actually cheating and all? He technically wasn’t crossing any lines here, so it shouldn’t hurt you. It shouldn’t. You had been here before. If you had managed to get through such an awful time as his previous wife, his relationship with Akemi shouldn’t be too hard to accept. No, you weren’t trying to lowball your pain, but it was better to be an optimist in this situation than be a suicidal, self-destructive person. You had a business to run and a child to raise. You had to be strong.

Or at least, that was what you told yourself. That was what you had been telling yourself over and over, each time you got up from bed forcing yourself to have a false positive mindset. In fact, that was also why you had to take this extended break because you had to have your peace of mind. You had to have some form of release to remember why you needed to stay alive and keep yourself going.

Not just for Sachiro’s sake, but also for your own.

Your safe haven for now was at the horse ranch, where the tranquility of riding and the beauty of nature provided the perfect ambiance for reflection. How long has it been since your last visit to Willow? Your father had been joking that you shouldn’t be leaving a beautiful, white Friesian horse unattended for years, especially not for the expensive price he paid her for. True enough, because the moment you saw the mare again, you almost forgot how majestic she was for her breed. Willow was a completely docile and graceful horse, so alike to you in many ways. However, one thing that was unlike you, was that she lived in peace, existing solely for herself and not for anyone else.

If only you could be like her.

As you reached out to stroke your rare-breed horse, a new and unfamiliar stallion in the stable caught your eye. To think of it, your family shared this equestrian estate with the Gojou family. This realization meant that the strikingly elegant and tall gray horse in the adjacent stall belonged to none other than Satoru.

“It’s a Thoroughbred,” the equine caretaker informed while guiding your horse out of the stable, “Mr. Satoru got him recently and named him Six.”

A gray Thoroughbred, renowned as the most expensive horse breeds out there. It could fetch a price as high as $70 million, and of course, Satoru was the perfect owner for such a prestigious horse. The stallion embodied his essence completely—its color, its build, its rarity. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but find his naming convention by number a bit odd. His previous black stallion was named Eight. This time around, it was Six. Couldn’t he be more imaginative?

“He’s beautiful,” you mumbled, nonetheless, in awe with the regality of the horse.

“He’s a good boy, too,” added the enthusiastic horsekeeper in a thick country accent, “Mr. Satoru was here yesterday and played polo while riding him. They were perfectly in sync even if it was his first time riding him.”

Of course, he would play polo. That was one of his favorite recreational sports. The burning question at hand was, who was with him during his visit? Because if the caretaker mentioned Akemi, you would certainly lose it. This was your private space with him. This estate was a place that none of his other women had access to, not even Sera. This was a location filled with memories from your childhood. For him to bring another woman here would be crossing the damn line.

“Did he bring anyone with him?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you dusted off your boots.

The caretaker denied. “No, he was alone. He just came to play polo and check the horses he recently bought.”

Oh… “He bought more than one?”

Did he seriously get Akemi her own horse? Your heart was racing at the thought, but the caretaker led you to the stable near the exit to show you the other horse than your ex-husband had purchased. It was a brown Shetland pony.

“He got a fully trained Shetland for your son,” the horsekeeper proudly declared, showcasing the pony as if he had been instructed to do so in anticipation of your visit. It was obvious that Gojou had already briefed him on introducing Sachiro’s new pony to you because he knew you would be asking about it. “His name is Elmo. He is kid-safe and very friendly.”

Frankly, you wanted to sigh in relief, but at the same time, it warmed your heart to know that Satoru got his son his own horse at such a young age. You could already sense him planning to make Sachiro take equestrian classes when he gets older, and probably join him on his horseback riding sessions, too. You could imagine just how perfect it would be to see the father and son bonding here, racing together, playing polo together… yet it would not be you who would be watching them on the side.

This future he was setting up with his son would be an experience he would share with Akemi.

There was no you in that vision anymore.

The caretaker likely questioned your sanity when he noticed the bitter smile on your face as you mounted your mare. He might have even doubted whether you were sane enough to ride alone, without a guide, particularly through the woods since Willow had not been ridden for some time now. However, you had done it countless times before and were quite familiar with the trail, and so you dismissed his offer to lead you and assured him confidently that you knew your way back.

You needed this solitude. You craved this moment of peace, alone with your thoughts and surrounded by nature, to reflect on the ceaseless torture of your life. It was just never-ending, squeezing every drop of happiness out of your system to make sure that you would only live to suffer. You really thought you had your happy ending with someone else? You actually believed you had found the perfect man to be your actual husband?

Well, unfortunately for you, Toji was not the one.

At first, your mind flew to Toji as you went on to the trail, allowing the mare to continue trotting as you held the reins to control her. You remembered Toji’s text that morning, asking you for the hundredth time if he could meet with you. He likely wanted to apologize in person, but you doubted he would change his mind and take back the things he said. Because they were true. He could never fill the void left by his deceased wife by being with another empty soul. It was painfully, unmistakably true. You were better off dead if that was the case, because even if you did end up marrying him, you would never be regarded as the person he loved the most. After all, your role in this world seemed to always be the second option. You were never the first in other people’s books. Not with your ex-husband. Not even with your family, especially with Gen around. You were meant to be a bystander, watching others live their perfect lives while you were forced to be in your misery. Someone like Toji would not have a guaranteed blissful marriage with you and you had to spare him from that. You had to draw the line and step back from this charade that you were playing with him, knowing that you were never the right person to be with him, so at some point, you had to accept his drunken words. They came from a place of truth, and that truth would set the both of you free.

Even it hurt. Even if it fucking hurt to hear his words. You couldn’t deny them.

You could easily forgive him, but his words might take a while for you to forget because even thinking about it now was bringing a wave of pain into your chest. You didn’t even notice that you were losing control on Willow’s reins by the time you entered further into the woods, bouncing on the saddle as you galloped along the challenging path. With the speed you were riding right now, inexperienced riders would certainly find it unsafe and scary. But for you? It was just what you needed. The breeze of fresh air, the thrill of riding alone, the peaceful sound of nature—you could die there and be at your happiest.

Maybe that was where you had to be; to disappear and leave them all behind. Wouldn’t that be best for everyone? If you were to vanish, they could finally be free. Your presence, even from the beginning, was a burden for everyone—for your dad, Gen, Satoru, Toji, and even Akemi. The people you trusted the most would be the same people who would secretly celebrate your demise. So, what else was hindering you from taking matters into your own hands and ending it all yourself?

“Giddy up!”

Was it Sachiro? Definitely. But now he had his father, and he was likely starting to see Akemi as a mother figure as well. Your role as his beloved mama could be easily replaced if you were to leave him now. It wouldn’t hurt him as much that way. Three years with Sachiro seemed sufficient enough, and he was at an age where he could grow up alongside his father. In this short span, he would have lasting memories with you, yet not enough to deeply grieve your absence. He was a young child, surrounded by people who would offer the whole world to him. At least, for that, you were eternally grateful. It brought you comfort knowing that your son would have support after you were gone, and that he would find a mother figure in Akemi. Given the brief time he spent with you and the rest of his life with her as his stepmother, Sachiro would likely come to love and accept Akemi as his own mother. This was the best outcome you could hope for.

My child, my son, my baby… please don’t get mad at mommy.

Tears were gushing out of your eyes and you hadn’t even realized it until they started blurring your vision. You were far too lost in your own thoughts, unaware that you were now in an unfamiliar and seemingly dangerous part of the trail. The path was getting a little bit too steep and poor Willow was clearly stressed at your inconsiderate handling. There were multiple obstacles on your rocky terrain and you weren’t as steady and controlled as you wanted to be because the horse wasn’t comfortable navigating such a difficult path with the pace you were forcing her to.

“Ah!”

Your attempt to balance was interrupted by Willow’s loud neigh, signaling her distress before she bolted into a full rampage. She was sprinting at an estimated speed of 20 miles per hour. Not even a skilled rider like Satoru himself would be cantering that fast on unfamiliar terrain and an unfit horse. But you, you clearly had a death wish, because instead of fearing for your own life, you were far more concerned at the thought of how dreamy Satoru and Akemi’s wedding would look like after your demise. They would definitely make Sachiro their ringbearer. Suguru would be the best man. Shoko, the maid of honor. People on the internet would praise them for being an attractive couple. They would anticipate their beautiful kids together, living in the same mansion he bought as a gift to you. He would kiss her good night, tell her loves her, and offer the whole world to her. They would exchange vows and promise themselves a lifelong commitment to be by each other’s side through sickness and in health, and only in death would they part.

“Willow!”

You let out a shriek as the reins slipped from your grasp, causing you to tumble off the saddle and crash onto the ground. The impact was first felt in your elbow, and a sharp, searing pain then radiated through your body. There you lay, sprawled on the dirt, helplessly watching Willow galloping out of control up the mountain, and then tragically plummeting off a cliff.

“Nooo! Willow, no!”

Utter hysteria overtook you. You sobbed uncontrollably, unable to determine which pain was more agonizing—the clearly broken elbow, the loss of the horse you had inadvertently led to its death, or the heart-wrenching reality of Satoru starting a family with someone else.

You were pathetic. You were such a pathetic excuse of a human being and this was why you deserve hell.

“Willow!”

Toji couldn’t love you. Your own son didn’t want to be around you. Satoru had gotten over you. And now, you drove a poor innocent horse to its demise because of your recklessness!

You were crying hysterically as you held your pained elbow, crawling by the cliff’s edge as you screamed for your horse’s name, but in the end, there was nothing you could do. You could only apologize to poor Willow for having such an irresponsible owner, and now she was dead because of you. 16 years of her life, she was able to live in peace until you came and ruined it all for her. It should have been you. You were the one who should have jumped off a cliff. You should atone for your sins and follow her, but you were too weak, far to overcome by the excruciating pain on your hip and your broken elbow to move or do anything at all.

That was, until your mind had completely shut down, leaving you as a mere body to be discarded alone in the darkness of the woods. You hoped that no one else would find you soon.

— —

“A-Angina?” Satoru’s eyes went wide. His whole world stopped before him.

“Yes. She was diagnosed with stable angina,” Dr. Mori confirmed, much to your husband’s horror. “But there is another factor that requires her to have more rest. You need to take good care of your wife, Mr. Gojou. Her body needs a lot of nutrients so she can carry safely.”

He could barely process the whole thing in his head because the news kept coming one after another, leaving him in a befuddled state with a flood of unanswered questions running through his mind. “What do you mean…?”

“Your wife is seven weeks pregnant.”

…

“Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

You could barely pry your eyes open, but when you finally managed to, you were met with the concerned expression on Gen’s face. The harsh glare of fluorescent lights and the antiseptic scent confirmed to you that you were in the ER, likely an hour or two after the incident in the woods. The memory of the trail quickly flooded your thoughts, and a pang of sorrow gripped your heart as you recalled Willow's final moments before she fell off the cliff. The poor horse had lost her life, while the one responsible for her tragic death remained alive, save for the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“Why did you ride into the woods alone?” Gen persisted with her barrage of questions, standing by your bed as you attempted to sit up. “Are you suicidal or what? Riding your horse in a dangerous trail like that—”

“You know what, maybe I should have just died back there!” you snapped, wincing from the pain in your elbow. Her choice of words struck a nerve in you. “Maybe I’d prefer that over sitting here, listening to your sanctimonious lecture like you're so perfect yourself! How obnoxious.”

“Then, maybe you shouldn’t be riding so recklessly and causing alarm to everyone else!”

“Did I literally ask you to come save me?!”

The atmosphere around you two just became even more uninviting, with discomfiting silence seeping through as you and Gen were engaged in a sharp glaring contest. Your father stood behind her, clearing his throat to cut the tension.

“That’s enough, Gen.” Your dad placed a hand on her shoulder, and although she wanted to protest, she knew better not to keep stirring the pot after receiving his strict gaze. “Let’s just be thankful your sister is safe. There’s no need to be so overwhelming.”

You rolled your eyes, drawing in a deep breath before you looked away from them. None of them would ever understand your pain unless they were in your position. They didn’t carry the same baggage as you, so they would never fully comprehend the weight of your suffering. You had already dealt with similar pain on your own before and that was why you didn’t need any of them to come to your aid, meddling with your life like they knew exactly what you were going through. “Just leave me alone, you guys. I wanna rest.”

Since when did your relationship with your sister start to get rough? It wasn’t really like this before, but ever since she started to become too overprotective over you and your choices in life, particularly choices linked to Satoru, Gen had started to become insufferable in your eyes. She was acting too much like a mother; controlling your decisions, lecturing you about your personal relationships, being too involved with your private life. There, ever since that, you started to distance yourself from her, and she didn’t like that. Her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to cease acting like this mature, picture perfect big sister to you.

With that said, Gen would have normally gotten annoyed when you asked them to leave you alone, but this time around, she seemed to have reflected on her insensitivity a lot better with your father around. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, her tone still tinged with stubbornness, “I just got worried. I don’t know what’s gotten into you to put yourself in danger like that, but… please, Y/N. If you’re going through something, you can always speak to us. Dad and I, we’re here for you.”

To be fair, if you had to put yourself in their shoes, it really would have been alarming to know that your sister almost died. This wasn’t the first time you were at death’s door either, so they were probably scared shitless when they were informed of your situation. Your absolutely reckless situation. You didn’t mean to cause a scene, neither did you intend to bother them on their already busy schedules. You just had so many things in your mind while you were horseback riding, too engulfed by your own sorrow that you didn’t realize the repercussions after the incident had already taken place.

“I’m sorry, too.” Your voice softened with humility. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. It was just really an accident.”

Of course, Gen suspected it was more than just an accident. Your dad did, too. It was obvious on their forlorn faces that they were worried for your mental and emotional well-being, but none of them dared address the elephant in the room. It seemed they didn’t need to, anyway, since one of the many reasons that contributed to your earlier breakdown took a peek from behind the curtains, clearing his throat and sending you a look of sympathy.

“Y/N?” Toji looked at your father and your sister for approval before stepping further inside your space in the ER. “Can I talk to you?”

There was no escaping Toji’s presence anymore. No more hiding, no more avoiding. You knew you had to have this talk with him no matter how many times you ignored his flood of texts and calls. While this may have struck as an opportune moment for him to speak to you in person, facing the painful truth of your situation weighed heavily on you. Besides, hadn’t the irony presented itself right there? If Satoru were the one trying to speak to you, even if he was the father of your child, Gen would have been quick to lash out at him. Yet with Toji, even with the general knowledge of what had transpired between you two, your sister still showed no hostility towards him, allowing him to approach you freely and without interference.

But then again, Toji was far from being a cheating, manipulative scumbag who not only caused you suffering but also sought to selfishly acquire your family’s company. Therefore, he wasn’t considered a threat.

Alright, then. Since Toji genuinely wasn’t a threat to your current emotional state, you agreed to talk with him. It was the first time you had seen the not-so-confident side of Toji Zen’in. He was typically a man of virtue, often holding his chin high, offering the best advice, and having insightful perspectives on life. However, it seemed you had shattered that confidence in him. You could sense his cautiousness around you as he stood by your side in the ER, assisting you with your needs, and eventually agreeing to your request to walk you to the rooftop garden.

“I don’t really think there’s anything else we should talk about.” It was you who first broke the silence, staring at the cityscape while sitting on a wheelchair. The calm breeze allowed your mind to seize the moment with a peaceful mind. “I already heard what you had to say.”

Toji found it better to kneel down in front of you to meet your eyes as he spoke to you in a sincere and earnest voice. “Y/N, I was drunk when I said all that shit back there. I didn’t mean them. I didn’t mean to hurt you with my callous words, and I feel awful that you had to hear them from me. You trusted me. You sought comfort from me. I wasn’t thinking like a normal person when those things came out of my mouth.”

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t true,” you replied with quiet resignation. It was the acceptance in your face that seemed to have caused Toji’s heartbroken gaze. “It’s okay, Toji. I think, when you said all those things, it actually made me realize some aspects of our relationship that had to be addressed. It made me more self-aware and it opened my eyes on the bigger picture.” You touched his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as you mustered the courage to speak your next words. “It’s for the best that we part ways. It’s not fair to me to become a placeholder for your wife the same way it isn’t fair to you to have to deal with my ex-husband always being present in my life. Our unresolved feelings won’t really be resolved by being together.”

“Y/N…” Toji’s voice hinted at his vulnerable emotions, though he restrained himself from showing it fully. And you didn’t miss the apologetic look he had presented to you. “Despite all that, I hope you know that I’d been true to you. I do love you and will always love you. I’ll always be someone you can rely on, someone you can seek comfort from, someone you can turn to when you need help…”

Damn it. Why did he have to make it sound like an actual break up? Now, it tugged at your heartstrings and hit you in a place it shouldn’t have. You weren’t good at these things and it certainly was your first time dealing with such a mature and mutual separation, but wasn’t that a good thing? No further drama was to happen, leaving a stark comparison to your separation with Satoru. While this one didn’t hurt as much, it still brought a hollow feeling in your chest.

“Same for me,” you agreed, displaying a weak smile. “You’ll always have a spot in my heart, Toji. I’ll always be grateful that I met you.”

Sometimes, two people didn’t need to be together to love each other. Friendships could still thrive between ex-lovers, and that was why closure was so important. It not only closed a certain chapter of your life in a healthy way, but also allowed you to heal and open yourselves to a new beginning without any bitterness left behind.

It shouldn’t be considered bad to remain friends with an ex. It also shouldn’t be bad to give a parting kiss from said ex, right?

You weren’t the one who initiated it, after all. It was Toji’s hand that gently stroked your cheek. It was him, who leaned forward and pressed his lips onto yours. It wasn’t forceful, but neither was it passionate. It was simply a tender kiss of goodbye, feeling the warmth of each other’s lips for one last time before you two would transition from being lovers to friends. What you didn’t understand from this supposedly bittersweet moment was the faint tears that somehow managed to escape your eyes, perhaps because you knew that once Toji left, you would be alone again.

You had no one by your side to love you, cherish you, choose you, and offer their entire world for you. You were meant to live this cruel world all by yourself.

As he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Please learn to love yourself before anyone else, Y/N. It’s what you need and what you deserve.”

That night, while you were getting your MRI, your mind kept flying to the possibilities of a future without having anyone by your side. Any normal person would tell you to focus on loving yourself first, as Toji did recently, focusing on what matters most, and ridding yourself of the toxic things that hinder you from moving forward with your life. Things weren’t as easy as they sounded. Besides, it was different being on the receiving end of the said advice. How could you do those things when the primary cause of your pain was someone whose life would always be linked to yours forever?

Based on the result of your MRI scans, your doctor recommended that you undergo elbow arthroscopy. It was just a minimally invasive procedure compared to open surgeries, but considering how much of an overthinker your dad was when it came to your health, he insisted on your confinement at the hospital until you had been completely cleared of any other issues. He really placed a big deal on your condition and emphasized to the doctors that they make sure nothing was missed. It could have been worse; you could have had a broken hip or a fractured leg, but at least you only had a dislocated elbow. Nothing that couldn’t be easily corrected by surgery and physical therapy.

The decision was for you to stay there for two days, and on your first night, a crying Sachiro ran inside your private room because his ‘mama has a boo boo’. Gen said he was picked up from daycare and dropped off at the hospital because the poor kid was looking for you. She didn’t mention who dropped your son off to you, but you could tell it was Satoru. You could sense it by the glances she exchanged with Ian after you asked how Sachiro came to the hospital.

So, in that case, Satoru must have found out about your little incident and didn’t care enough to see you. Did he not even have an ounce of care anymore? Or was it Gen who stopped him from seeing you?

“Did you ask him to leave?” you confronted Gen in a mellow voice, rubbing Sachiro’s back as he snuggled into you on the hospital bed.

Your sister knew exactly which man you were referring to, and she denied having done such. “No, I didn’t even talk to him. He took Sachi here and left.”

You didn’t know why you looked at Ian to confirm the truth of his wife’s words, but hurt yourself upon seeing his bowed head. It was an apologetic expression that did signify your ex-husband’s blatant act of ignoring you. To hear about your near-death experience and simply leave without even checking on you should be your wake-up call. He didn’t care anymore. No, why should he care? He had Akemi. His only responsibility with you was to be a supportive father to your son.

Why did the pain in your heart feel far more agonizing than the discomfort on your dislocated elbow?

If anything, you wanted to ask for the strongest anesthetic they could offer to numb your pain. You were desperate to have anything even if they had to put you into an eternal sleep. That would have been much easier to deal with than feeling disregarded by a person you supposedly had moved on from. Satoru did nothing wrong here. It was you who had that expectation, only to disappoint yourself when things didn’t happen as you imagined.

And just when you thought things would get better as long as you ignore your torturous thoughts, it didn’t help that being in the hospital kept giving you flashbacks of the time you were in this exact room, hearing Satoru crying helplessly from outside and begging for you not to terminate his child. What comes around certainly goes back around. Or worse.

Such depressive thoughts had you occupied throughout your stay there, and your unusual placidness alarmed the nurses instead of being assured that you were doing well. You heard your doctors telling your father and sister to always keep a close eye on you as the incident may not seem serious, but the trauma would undoubtedly be present somewhere and somehow. Were they aware? Of your intrusive thoughts of wanting to hurt yourself?

The elbow arthroscopy was successful and by the second day, you were free to go home. You were placed on certain medications to help with the swelling and the pain, and while you were walking around the hospital with a listless mind, you happened to pass by the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. What a deja vu it was, remembering the time you had seen Satoru there waiting outside for Sera. Back then, it was one of the climactic events in your life that led to a domino effect on the downfall of your marriage. Not that you were reminiscing, but it did remind you that Shoko was probably there in her consultation room and it would be nice to talk to a friend who had witnessed the wild history of your marriage.

You asked Gen to wait for you in the car while you headed to Ieiri’s consultation room, assuring your visibly worried sister that everything was fine and that you wouldn’t take too long. You had to give Gen some slack, because despite the strains in your relationship as sisters, she was still always there for you. At the end of the day, she was family.

Shoko, on the other hand, was the next closest thing you had for a sister. She welcomed you inside her room in a very worried embrace, telling you that if she had known about the incident, she would have gone straight to your hospital room on your first day, but you told her not to worry about it and understood that being in the medical field already had her schedule tight.

“Well, I guess it’s perfect that you’re here, too.” Shoko smiled warmly, sitting behind her desk. She had exciting news to offer, it seemed. “I just wanna say that… of course, I’ll still be sending you a formal invitation and everything. I actually have a few gifts along with it.”

You shared her enthusiasm. “Hmm… is it what I think it is?”

The wedding. The most eventful day of her life would be arriving soon and you were the first one to hear it.

“Yes!” she answered, with the utmost joy coruscating from her eyes. “I want you to be my maid-of-honor, Y/N. I’d be extremely happy if you could make it. I know you just got into an accident, but it won’t be until two months, so—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You eased her worries by chuckling. “I’m completely fine, of course I’ll be there. I can’t miss it.”

Shoko was grateful to hear your answer, relieved even, because by asking you to be her maid-of-honor, you should already understand who Suguru’s best man would be. That was a touchy subject for you and she was keenly aware of it, but you didn’t want her to worry. You didn’t want your relationship with your ex-husband to have a negative impact on the relationship of all the other people surrounding the both of you. It was already bad enough that Shoko and Suguru almost called off their engagement after they fought over their morals as you and Satoru’s friends, and you were glad that they somehow made things work. They somehow set aside their disagreements and ultimately chose their love over anything else.

Their love was beautiful, and while that wasn’t something you could easily have, it was something you deeply admired.

“Where are you guys planning to hold your wedding?” you asked, steering the conversation away from any mention of your ex-husband. “Here or overseas?”

She delighted you with her answer, sounding as if this was the perfect wedding she had always dreamed of. “It’s an intimate wedding on the lakeside. Suguru chose the location, actually, since he wanted our wedding to have the view of Mount Fuji.”

“That’s perfect,” you said with wide eyes. “Lake Kawaguchiko?”

“Yep. That’s exactly where it’d be.” She smiled with her eyes. “You know this resort… Hoshinoya Fuji? We already booked the place, and we have a luxury cabin for friends and families to stay at.”

You had been there before, but you were too young to remember. All you knew was that it was a high-end resort that had the best panoramic views of Lake Kawaguchiko and Mount Fuji. The hotel owner was also a close friend of the Gojou family, so that was probably why they were able to rent the entire place for the wedding, especially at a peak season for tourists.

Since the fall season was arriving, you could only imagine the stunning views of the autumn foliage there. It offered the perfect weather, too. It wouldn’t be as hot as summer, nor as freezing as winter. Surely, it would be nice to do some nature walks and stargazing, maybe ride a boat or bathe in a hot spring. You looked forward to it, except for the fact that your ex-husband would also be there.

And just what a perfect timing it was, because as Shoko sorted through her patients' medical records above her desk, a file slipped from the pile, revealing the name of your very friend, Akemi.

“Oh,” Shoko murmured apologetically as she retrieved the record, not wanting to ruin the mood of your conversation. “She, uh, came by a few days ago... with Gojou.”

You didn’t need to ask. You didn’t need to hear any further detail. Akemi’s visit likely revolved around her desire to conceive, as she wouldn’t have visited Shoko otherwise. Why? If it were simply to monitor her polycystic ovary, why did she choose Shoko instead of her own gynecologist? Thinking of how your ex-husband and best friend were attempting to start a family together left your heart shattered in unimaginable pieces, stirring up painful memories of your pathetic marriage with Satoru and reopening old wounds you thought had already healed from. Wasn’t it ironic that a couple of years ago, you were crying over the same situation with Sera?

You couldn’t stand this feeling anymore. You thought you had already freed yourself from the pain of loving him, yet here you were suffering from the same heartbreak over and over and over again. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, the ache in your chest too raw to confront just yet.

“It’s funny.” Although you displayed an outward smile, the sadness in your voice reflected your otherwise inward thoughts. You didn’t know why you said that. You were just too… too emotional. Almost like you couldn’t breathe. “He was never this passionate with me. They seem so in love.”

Ieiri’s eyes carried sisterly concern in them. “Y/N, it’s not really what you think.”

Was it? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore. You certainly weren't there to hear it anymore, either. Satoru chose her, just like what you wanted for him to do. Just like what you asked him to do. He had moved on, he had found someone who would love him for who he was, he had chosen the woman he would share the rest of his future with. Call yourself ridiculous for even feeling hurt about it, because you had no right to be and you definitely chose this. Either you own up to it, or you cry about it for the rest of your life.

Both choices had no happy endings.

— —

When Satoru learned about your incident in the woods, he thought he was going to lose his mind.

Was it out of love that he swiftly left the office in the middle of a meeting just to get to where you were?

He still had to pick up Sachiro from daycare, and he felt bad telling his son on the way to the hospital that his mother was hurt. It actually gave Satoru a hard time explaining to the 3-year old that they had to go to the hospital because his mommy was there and that she had an unfortunate encounter while riding a horse.

“Dada, is… is mama okay?” Sachiro pouted with wide, tearful eyes as he clung to his father’s hand. “Sachi wants to go to mama!”

“She’ll be okay, Sachi.” Gojou carried his son and soothed him as they went inside the hospital, searching for you. “Mommy’s strong, remember?”

Was it out of love that he wanted to be the person that brought your son to you when you most needed him?

According to the nurse, your room was on the seventh floor, but when he got there, your room was empty. It was Ian who told him that you went up the rooftop garden to get some fresh air, insisting that if Satoru wanted to go and talk to you, that it was best to leave Sachiro with them.

And so he did. He ran hastily, almost out of breath, until he reached the rooftop, scanning every face within the vicinity until his tired blue eyes finally landed on you.

Satoru laughed in disbelief. He scoffed bitterly, with each breath full of disgust. The tips of his fingers felt cold, while his breathing grew thin and ragged. He could feel his stomach clenching at the humiliation of seeing you engaged in an intimate make-out session with Toji Zen’in.

How sickeningly sweet.

At that point, he was laughing at his own expense, ignoring the elderly lady who looked at him like he was a crazy person. He stood there frozen for a few minutes, watching you kiss another man before it finally woke him up from reality.

It was out of love that he let you go.

You see? This was where his attachment to you would lead him. It was pure and unreasonable selfishness, but he would gain nothing at all from even seeing you. He didn’t need to care for you at all, no. You had Toji. You seemed to be goddamn happy with your life with Toji. And what a romantic fucking moment that was, too.

Satoru couldn’t think straight when he hurriedly left the hospital and got inside his car. He desperately wanted to forget the painful image of you locking lips with somebody else. How? How would he? Fuck! He was mad, mad at himself for choosing to come to your aid like he still had any role in your life. He was disgusted at himself for ignoring Akemi’s calls after promising her a movie date after work. He couldn’t believe he had her waiting all by herself in that cinema, waiting for him to come while he was stupidly running around the hospital to see his ex-wife.

You chose Toji, then you better be happy. Satoru hoped you were happy, and that wish came from a place of genuineness. He genuinely hoped the best for you. Because for him, it was time to fully let go and stop himself from trying to be the superhero whenever you were in danger. You weren’t his wife anymore.

So, was it out of love that he headed straight to Akemi’s apartment that night with a bouquet of red roses?

She didn’t know what happened nor was she given the full detail as to why he unintentionally stood her up on their date night. He had just briefly explained that he had to drop Sachiro off to you at a hospital because you got into a small accident. Akemi, being your friend, got immediately worried upon hearing the situation and asked if Satoru was able to check on you.

He said no. He said Toji was there. He said he left as soon as dropped Sachiro off.

And in an effort to apologize for not paying attention to the current woman in his life, Satoru pulled Akemi in a tight embrace. He held her in her arms, drunk from the sweet and citrusy notes of her perfume, before pulling away to kiss her. He kissed her with the same passion as you did with Toji. Perhaps even more, even better. He completely devoured her lips, with a hand on her cheek and the other on her waist. The taste of her tongue was sweet like strawberries, while her lips were red like cherries.

This woman was all he needed.

But was this love? He didn’t know. It was too soon to tell, too early to answer, too hasty to even consider.

— —

The current situation you were in reminded you of your younger self after your mother had died. It was the same before; you never left the house, often locking yourself in your room, shutting yourself off from the world, and drowning yourself with the pain and loneliness of losing somebody important.

Sure, no one really died for you to be acting this way right now, but the feeling was still the same. Was this really a comeuppance to all of your wrongdoings before? But just how terrible were you of a person to be hit by this unbelievable truckload of sorrow? You might as well spur on the physical pains of your angina again if this torment continued. Otherwise, how else do you avoid it?

You were being a terrible mother, too. You were too engrossed by your own misery that you couldn’t even properly take care of Sachiro. He didn’t deserve to have an incompetent and irresponsible mother like you. He deserves someone better, someone like Akemi, who not only has all the motherly traits a woman should have, but also the physical and mental capacity of being a true, strong woman.

Sachiro was bound to have that, anyway. Now that his father was planning his lifelong journey with another woman, and now that he was trying to build a happy family with her, you were no longer needed in the picture. There was no need for you.

How many more times would you tell that you have accepted it?

Because, god be damned, you knew you couldn’t. You knew you were lying to yourself when you said everything was fine, lying to Satoru when you told him you didn’t need him in your life anymore, lying to Toji for telling him that you wanted to marry him, lying to Akemi that you didn’t care if she was seeing your ex-husband, and lying to Sachiro when you promised to him that you would never leave his side. You were a liar. A terrible liar. A pitiful, terrible liar.

How would you tell the universe that you couldn’t take it anymore? That, for once, you wanted to be showered by happiness and all the good things in life?

Sera was right. Not everyone could have it all. There were people of lesser fortune who weren’t blessed to live a lavish life like you, yet still work hard to achieve what they want. Why couldn't you achieve your own happiness without blaming it on the universe? If this was simply a lesson, then weren’t you the top student at this rate?

God. God, help me. You really didn’t know how to deal with this life anymore. You weren’t sure how to proceed. You couldn’t rely on anything other than the bottle of alcohol on your hand—what was once full was now half empty after you took another swig. This was your second bottle already, wasn’t it? Or third?

You got up from the floor and failed to walk in a straight line as you made your way towards the balcony. Your steps were unsteady, wavering like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. With each attempt to move forward, your body swayed from side to side, struggling to maintain balance. You almost lost grip of the bottle you were holding. No, it did, in fact, slip from your hand and ended up crashing into the floor. Shards of glass lay across the ground, ready to pierce the soles of your feet to mirror the same physical pain your heart was experiencing.

“Stop,” you muttered under your breath, begging for your chest to stop hurting. But it only worsened, and your antidote to that was to wash it down with even more liquor. No matter how expensive it was, you didn’t even like the taste of alcohol. You hated the sting on your throat whenever you drank it. You despised the bitterness it left on your tongue. However, it did great at numbing your emotions.

It just felt wrong in many ways that you were seeing Satoru’s face whenever you closed your eyes. You could see his smile, his loving eyes, his beautiful lips. You missed his embrace, his kiss, his touch. You missed hearing his I love you’s. Him. You missed him. You yearned for him. Three goddamn years, and you were still undeniably in love with him.

“Satoru…” you cried, sitting on the floor. Each breath made it harder and harder for you to catch as tears continued to stream down your face. You were tired of pretending, denying that you no longer had feelings for him when you knew deep down that you would always choose him. “S-Satoru… come back to me, please.”

Was it him coming inside your room? Or was it your vision making a fool out of you?

“Baby, what are you doing?” Satoru’s expression was engulfed in immense worry as he knelt down and reached out to you, touching your cheek and looking at your eyes somberly. “Don’t do this yourself, Y/N.”

Your head hung low, your gaze unfocused and glazed, as you fought to keep your eyes on the path ahead. You had to reach him. You wanted to touch him, hug him. And despite your best efforts, your movements were disjointed and erratic, betraying the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, that’s enough.” Gen had to use force just to be able to snatch the bottle away from you, forcing you to wake up to the reality where Satoru no longer existed to be there for you. It was her who came rushing inside your room in the middle of the night. The bottle of liquor was now spilled all over the floor. The same could be described with your emotions. “Get it together. You haven’t been acting like yourself lately!”

You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were in delirium after having dealt with all the terrible things the world had thrown at you. If you couldn’t drown yourself in alcohol, how else would you have been able to numb the pain? How else would you have been able to… forget?

As much as your sister tried to hide the obvious sympathy in her voice, even your drunken mind could recognize it. “We all know you’re going down the depression lane again, but never to this extent.” Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence, cradling you into her arms as a tear fell down her face. The Gen who would usually lecture you, was now holding you in her arms as her only baby sister. “Stop this, Y/N, please. Don’t ruin your life the second time. I-It’s hurting me. It’s hurting Dad. Do you… do you realize what Sachiro’s gonna think of you when he sees you like this?”

“Gen…” Muffled sobs unwillingly came out of you, leaving you with such excruciating pain in the chest, so much so that it didn’t even feel like you had done surgery to fix your (quite literally) broken heart. “I w-want him back,” you continued to cry, “I want my husband back. I want to be with h-him, Gen.”

“Y/N.”

“Where’s S-Satoru…? D-Did he leave? Please take me to him—”

“Y/N, listen to me.” She gently cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pained eyes. “You’re intoxicated. He was never here, and he’d never come for you. You have to let it go.”

“But—”

“He’s not good for you. He never will be.”

— —

It had been two weeks since Satoru last heard about you. Miwa was the one who updated him that you had already returned to your family’s mansion, letting him know that you were okay and that you were recovering well. Frankly, Satoru was starting to get annoyed at the fact that his secretary was still giving him updates about you. What did he care? He wasn’t your husband anymore.

Besides, Toji was probably visiting you every day, so why did he have to worry about you? If there was anyone he should be worried about, it was Akemi. She had been experiencing terrible pelvic cramps lately, which needed to be given serious attention, but you would never see her being dramatic about it. The only thing she needed was for Gojou to accompany her visits to the OB-GYN, and even then, she never showered herself in self-pity. She carried herself like an independent woman, and that was exactly what Satoru needed in his life right now.

He had a son to raise. He had a company to run. It wasn’t the perfect time to commit himself to someone lawfully. Heck, he didn’t even believe in marriage anymore. He realized that two people could still love each other without getting married. As long as Akemi didn’t pressure him about such things, he was fine with having her around. She didn’t ask for anything much, anyway.

As for you, well…

“What are you planning with that mansion you gifted Y/N?” asked Nanami, seated on the couch inside Satoru’s office, casually reading a newspaper. “Do you even remember that?”

He certainly did. “What about it?” he questioned, idly toying with a pen on his desk. “It’s her property now. She can sell it if she wants.”

Better yet, you should let Sachiro inherit the property someday. His son was already set for a life of privilege having wealthy parents on both sides, but wouldn’t the mansion be a substantial addition to his assets in the future? Satoru couldn’t help but envision the kind of man his son would grow up into. He hoped Sachiro would not inherit his father's immaturity and pettiness but would embody the kindness and altruism of his mother. From a business perspective, however, Satoru planned to groom his son to be a leader, as he was the sole heir to the Gojou Group. Additionally, he would also inherit half of Creston and the entirety of Hearte. No wonder Sachiro was recently listed as the wealthiest kid by Forbes Japan. He even beat Megumi Zen’in from the list even though the teenager was the heir of the Zen’in business empire.

These were the thoughts that should consume Satoru—the future, not the past. His kid, not you. And he was right about doing so, because when he came home to his penthouse, he was told that he had a visitor.

A visitor on a Wednesday afternoon?

Your brother-in-law, the esteemed prosecutor who sent his evil stepmother to jail, appeared on his front door, carrying Sachiro in his arms. It was hard to tell what type of emotions were visible on the man’s face, but he definitely didn’t bring any good news.

“Ian?” Satoru promptly made way for the man to come in, ushering him into the penthouse and allowing him to set Sachiro down. The young boy was quick to dart off to his playroom, leaving the two men in an uncomfortable silence. “What’s going on? Weekends are usually my schedule with Sachi.”

Ian cleared his throat, a hand on his pocket. “Do you mind looking after Sachiro for the time being?”

By saying ‘for the time being’, it seemed like Ian wanted to actually say ‘until further notice.’ But that confused Satoru even more, because what was happening for the man to come here and ask him to let Sachiro stay beyond the agreed schedule with his father? He couldn’t read through Ian’s expression and it was making him uneasy.

“I can, but… why so suddenly?” Gojou asked, glancing at his oblivious son.

“It’s Y/N’s idea, Gen doesn’t know about it.” Ian released an awkward chuckle. “You know how my wife is.”

Gen would absolutely hate it, Satoru was aware for sure. Though the questions lingered in his mind. “Why would Y/N want Sachi to stay with me? Where’s she?”

Was it him or was Ian having a hard time explaining the situation? It felt like he was walking on eggshells, deciding between what had to be said and what shouldn’t. He was careful with his words when he spoke again, “Y/N flew to Monaco this morning and will be back when she’s ready. She says Sachiro should spend all of his time with you while she’s gone.”

Monaco? Why would you be there?

Confusion bathed Satoru’s eyes. “Is it for a fashion event or something?”

“No, she’s just…” Ian struggled heavily. “Well, to sum it up, she has to go there to sort some things out. It’s a personal thing, but she really needs this time for herself and we think it’s the best for her right now. I don’t know how long she’s gonna stay there or when she’ll be back, but I hope you understand what I’m trying to say here.”

No, he didn’t. Satoru found it difficult to fathom his ex-brother-in-law’s words, seeing as he had no general idea of what was truly going on. But if you were flying to Monaco, surely Toji wouldn’t allow you to go there all by yourself?

Ahh. It made sense now. I see what’s happening here.

Satoru’s lips curled into sarcasm. You would be vacationing with the love of your life. Is that what it was? Planning your halted wedding? Choosing wedding gowns? Looking for venues? There was no way you would be flying to Monaco alone, especially without Sachiro around when you two had been inseparable since his birth.

“What kinda mother is she?” Satoru muttered in disgust, unaware that Ian had overheard him. But Ian had heard loud and clear. How could you leave your son behind like this? Couldn’t you face your ex-husband to discuss it, instead of just dropping Sachiro off as if he were some unwanted toy?

“Hold it right there,” Ian interjected, becoming defensive at the accusation. “You have no idea what she’s going through.”

How would he know? No one was telling him shit. No one was giving him details, so did they expect him to understand things and accept them as they were? Did they do the same thing to Satoru when he was at the verge of losing his sanity asking everyone for forgiveness over and over?

“I've never taken sides between you two, Satoru, you know that,” Ian continued, trying to maintain a calm demeanor and speak with clear judgment, “But one thing I’m not gonna let you do is call Y/N a bad mother.”

Satoru’s chest tightened at Ian's words, a mixture of guilt and frustration bubbling up inside him. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but the pain and resentment were too raw to contain. It felt like you were abandoning him and your child, like you were off to a new chapter in your life again, and leaving everything behind. Perhaps this was his trauma from the New York thing crawling back at him, but it definitely reminded him of the day you had abandoned him. For three fucking years. How long would it take you to return now?

Why do you keep doing this? He was sick of it. You kept running away instead of talking to him. He gets it, people change, circumstances change, but couldn’t you at least have the decency to talk to him about it? Was it wrong for him to wish you’d handled this differently? To wish that you’d talked to him, involved him in the decision-making process, instead of just making this unilateral decision and leaving him to pick up the pieces?

Satoru took a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “It’s fine, I’ll take care of Sachi,” he reassured, “I’ll take some time off work and have ‘Kemi help me out.”

He looked back at Ian, his eyes pleading for further details, for answers, for some semblance of clarity in the midst of this emotional turmoil.

Yet none of it was given.

And so, would it still be wrong to assume that he could now completely forget about you? That this opportunity to be with Sachiro would allow him a chance to share it with someone else? If you spent three years of your life playing house in New York with Toji, would it still be unfair for Satoru to do the same with Akemi?

#series: sincerely yours #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo angst #jjk angst

1K notes · View notes

acid-ixx · 2 months ago

Text

update and story excepts

guys i swear if i post chapter 4 sooner for my series: again &. again, soon, will that revive the yandere batfam/dc tag because i swear i've been consuming less content of it both lately and sadly 💔 like it's a bit dead ngl. ill reply to asks once i'm done with ch.4 istg

and yes, i'm back from my short hiatus again to announce this. and it's 3:30am but i dont care teehee. anyways, if i do post a new chapter expect it to be this week and that's final for once, since i've kept all of you guys waiting so long, i'm so sorry :(( i swear it's me trying to gain confidence through my writing and i don't know if i like chapter 4 or not. all i do know is that it's one of the most emotionally draining chapters so expect triple the angst, yippee!

anyways, excepts from the chapter below the line break:

DICK'S THOUGHTS:

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

CONNER'S SCENES:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you."

BATHROOM BREAKDOWN P.T.2 PRIOR TO CLUBBING

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted.the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

(spoilers: expect shit to go down with jason todd with you, and him with the family, and a good 4k words of you flirting with conner before actual shit goes down)

leave comments down below if you do like the direction this story is coming to! otherwise, thank you all for reading my series and supporting it from the start !! <33

#🍨... yael's talking #yandere dc #yandere batfam #guys pls dont attack me if i take too long #i feel so much pressure (from myself) to make this chapter as good or even better than chapter #than chapter 3 #since the third chapter has a whopping 4k likes #and i dont want anything i post to flop #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere batman #yandere conner kent #yandere dick grayson #platonic yandere #soft yandere

476 notes · View notes

noxtivagus · 2 years ago

Text

listening to stardust children god i love tien n feower so much

#🌙.rambles #[ gbf. ]#I PERSONALLY LIKE THE SONG OKAY #they're so cool. i love them both so much #quatre's one of apollo's favs tho T_T #he's so cute tho ngl he n apollo r rather similar. pretty similar. really similar to me 💀#i want to kiss esser.. oh my god.#I'M SORRY. HELP #I'M. HEATING UP OH MY GOD I GOT A BIT FLUSTERED THIS IS EMBARRASSING....#i switch names like often from like jpn to the english translation i'm so sorry but #tien. esser. her white day hdfkajsdlfkds in the gbf wiki.... SHES SO CUTE ILL CRY #OH. OH. HER VA IS EULA #OH MY GOD HDFLKAJSDLK I KNEW IT....... i love her voice a lot hehe i find it so adorable when tien does that lil 'mhm' in agreement thing #idk how to say it but yk the thing.#she's like.. just a bit taller than me i think. or maybe more than i think but #>< oh my god. suddenly it just hit me while listening to stardust children rn that i really really really like tien #i love how. makoto from p5 is esser n joker is quatre (if i'm not mistaken?) it's rather amusing #random but. i'm being dragged into the hell of uhhh.. fandom..? stuff again IDK HOW TO PHRASE IT BETTER BUT 😭#i think soon. i can. finally start writing stories properly again. i've been imagining more again like i used to long ago hehe #but like. oh dear when i get into smth i get into it deeply n the thing is i'm into a lot of things rn n hdjfaklsdfjsdklfjdsf #SCHOOL AGAIN TMRRW.... T_T wish me luck sob #random edit bcs i randomly thought abt orchestral n rock as probably my top two fav music genres n i love them both tgther #too n. vg osts have a bunch of that hehe like ff n octopath uwahh ><

1 note · View note

mochi-marmalade · 17 days ago

Text

Easy Lovers

a/n: i am having a field day with this man. writing him is a bit difficult but reading him is SO GOOD. might post a short continued blurb of this story if people like it :3

Sunday x reader

1k words

warnings: none

You walked into the parlor, seeing Dan Heng, Sunday, March, and Himeko seated at different spots throughout the car. March and Himeko seemed to be playing some sort of game, while Sunday read a book and Dan Heng examined something. You sat by Dan Heng asking him what he was doing, and gave a brief chuckle when he explained. Sunday couldn’t help but peek at you over the cover of his novel, feeling somewhat upset that you had chosen to sit with the Vidyadhara instead of him. He’d been experiencing some inner turmoil lately, not that the feeling was new to him, though the source was. Sunday had found himself anticipating your arrival more lately, paying more attention to you, and craving your presence. It hadn’t taken him long to realize, but he was thoroughly unhappy with the outcome. Sunday was an organized man- everything he did was planned and orderly, meticulous even. This, though? He had not planned for this, not even a little, and it irked him greatly. In some ways, you were the exact opposite. You were messy, spontaneous, and clumsy, but kind and thoughtful. You were perfectly imperfect. Something about the way you gave yourself so freely to others endeared you to him. You were honest, you baked for the express members regularly, you were so, so patient, even when Sunday was not. You had nothing but love in your heart. You loved giving, loved your friends, you loved the world. Sunday saw in you what he was not, and in that, he found something worth protecting. Maybe, he thought, he saw something worth loving.

Everyone remained in the parlor until it grew late, and they gradually retired to their rooms. You and Dan Heng remained along with Sunday, who felt ill as he saw the two of you laugh together. Eventually, you yawned and stretched your arms above your head. “You should sleep soon.” Dan Heng commented.

“Yeah, I probably should. Goodnight, then, Dan Heng.”

“Goodnight.”

The two of you left, and Sunday sighed, closing his book and making his way to his room shortly after. He changed into his pajamas and turned on a small lamp, filling the room with soft, warm light. He sat for a moment and ran a hand through his silver hair, mulling over his inability to engage with you. It seemed so easy for you to talk to him, like it felt natural. For Sunday, though, everything before the express had been a game. His conversations were calculated and had hidden meaning behind each of them. Now that he had the opportunity to speak freely, he felt like he didn’t know how. After a while, a timid knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts. He got up and slid the door open, revealing you, dressed in pajamas and clutching a small pillow. Sunday felt his mouth run dry, managing to choke out, “What are you doing here so late?” You shifted your weight absentmindedly while you murmured, “Couldn’t sleep.” He stepped to the side so you could enter and closed the door behind you. Sunday sat on the edge of his bed and gestured for you to do the same. The two of you sat in silence for a moment before he wondered aloud, “Anything bothering you?” You shook your head. “Just not feeling well.” He turned his head to examine you as you sat gazing downwards with the pillow held close. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He said, silently berating himself for not being able to answer more considerately. You shook your head, saying, “It’s fine. I just didn’t know where else to go.” He raised an eyebrow, heart speeding up at the thought that you might trust him enough to come to him before anyone else. Silence fell for a minute again as you fidgeted with the hem of your pajama shorts. Sunday spoke up again, “Bad dream?” You nodded and your grip on the pillow in your arms grew tighter. “You can always come here.” He said reassuringly. You peered up at him hesitantly, and he prayed that his lightly blushed cheeks wouldn’t betray him.

“Sunday,” You said quietly. “Thank you.” He furrowed his brow.

“What for?”

“For entertaining me. Even if it’s just for a bit.”

He offered you a relaxed smile. “It’s no problem at all. I enjoy your company.” You smiled widely, stating, “I enjoy your company too.” Sunday’s wings fluttered a bit at that, making you huff in amusement. Seemingly out of nowhere, you asked, “What do you do?”

He gave you a bemused look. “A lot of things, I suppose. I enjoy playing instruments and reading, among other things.”

“Will you play for me sometime?”

His expression changed to one of pleasant surprise. “Sure.” You decided to pry further, wondering, “What do you play?”

“Piano, violin… That’s pretty much it.”

“Still, that’s amazing. I couldn’t play an instrument to save my life.”

Sunday smiles, pondering what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. Like usual, your thoughts are all over the place. At this point, he thinks he’s pretty much figured out that you say anything that comes to mind and is appropriate for the situation. You looked out of the window into the dark space beyond, flecked with gleaming stars. Sunday took a moment to appreciate your dreamy gaze as you admired them. How he longed to tell you that you were his most radiant star…

“How long are you going to keep staring at me?”

Sunday’s eyes widened. How long did you know he was looking at you?

“There’s a reflection in the glass, silly.” Right, he should have taken that into account. “Ah, well, I-I’m very sorry.” He choked out, his face flushed and wings threatening to cover his face. You turned to face him and, with a grin, said, “It’s no matter. I’m just glad you feel the same.” Sunday’s embarrassment turned to bewilderment. “...Feel the same?” He questioned. He had to be absolutely sure of what you meant before he said anything else.

Your smile dropped. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Sunday. I thought you- we-”

He took your hand in both of his and, with a breath, he managed to confirm, “I have feelings for you.” The beaming smile returned to your face, and Sunday exhaled a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. You lifted your free hand up to gingerly push away one of the wings that hovered near his face. “Me too.”

Sunday took you in his arms- warm and comforting. You leaned into him, and for a moment, the world was Sunday. In that instant, you felt as if it was all you needed.

#x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #sunday #sunday hsr #hsr sunday #sunday x reader #sunday x you #hsr x reader #my beautiful boy

255 notes · View notes

hotwings0203 · 1 year ago

Text

Needed to get possessive alpha bakugo off my chest, ill prolly write a sequel to this tmrw cuz i got some ideas

Tw: noncon, omegaverse

thinking about childhood possessive bakugo who's pined for his omega since she joined the pack Time after time again since you were kids he'd always tried to get close to you, using a number of strange to threatening courting techniques. It was benign at first when you both were young, with him jumping up the large apple tree to get you the juiciest fruit you could never seem to reach, but when you two grew older and played together with the rest of the pack, his efforts seemed more...possessive.

He'd always single you out and force you to be on his team, following up with growling at you whenever you'd run more than a few paces in front of away from him. His sleek gold and black coat would brush up against you constantly, as if only touching you would satiate his desire for your proximity. Bloodred eyes would glare at you when you'd shyly back away at dinnertime, opting to sit away from his intense gaze.

Not like he'd let you get that far.

When it would come time for bathing with your sisters, somehow, everytime you'd be out of the loop and would end up being forced to wash yourself on your own in the cold water.

Little did you know your sisters were not-so-kindly encouraged to not communicate their congregation to you by a certain fiery alpha.

And so when everyone was by the fire, barking out laughter and telling stories of their weekly hunt, you'd sulk to the riverside by yourself, clutching your towel over your shivering body as youd sink closer in the shallow water.

You wanted to get it done as fast as possible so you could join your pack in merry-making, haphazardly scraping dirt off your paws and washing the crevices between your ears.

But as soon as you take a step towards the lush bank, you hear a heavy splash behind you.

You whip around, ears drawn back immeditaley after seeing the alpha who shamelessly follows you around like he's already claimed you.

"W-whatre you doing here? Everyone's by the..fire..." you trail off unsurely as his spiked-up wet mane shakes in laughter. His lack of concern for the reprimands he'll undoubtedly recieve for being this physically close to you send faint warning alarms at the back of your head. Usually he glowers at you and turns tail, but this is new.

"I thought the pack leaders told you to leave me alone," your lip wobbles as your tone borders on fear and indignation. Your brothers had always kept you safe from him, snarling and hiding you behind their tall legs whenever he was around. Bakugo never seemed to give up though, his own flashing teeth and sick grin mirroring their own worry pulled back from their lips.

"Yeah? But you're here though."

You swallow hard and hope he doesn't hear your whimper as you splash backwards towards the bank, but his low grumble of pleasure upon smelling your sweet fear-omones says otherwise. It proves to him that you're not as immune as your other brothers swear you are to protect yourself against him, theyre actually worried for a reason.

They know you'd never stand a chance against him.

And his muscles do ripple amid the water as he steadily stalks towards you, leering as he licks his canines and trains his eyes on your feeble form.

It seems like as fast as you flail backwards towards unseen safety, he advances twice as fast, and within seconds your back hits a hard and scratchy surface.

Bakugo chuckles a humorless laugh as you've nestled yourself in a nice, private corner away from the mainland where everyone can see you. You've backed both of you into an enormous concaved treetrunk, one that circles around 10ft and only one opening...

which you've trapped yourself in.

The roots of various plants that have grown inside this hollowed out trunk provide little cushion as you whimper and try to desperatley climb the walls.

"When are you gonna give up?"

His voice is low, raspy with mixed want and bitterness.

"S-stop, stay away from me or I'll call for h-"

"When are you gonna realize you can't escape me?" He harshly whispers right at your ear as he lunges toward you, causing you to squeal with terror.

He nips your soft ear and inhales your neck, craning his own to get a good look at the sensitive unclaimed part of your neck.

His hands grip your sides and mold the squishy parts as though they were dough, his greediness increasing exponentially as he lowers his drooling mouth to your ear and laves his wet tongue over the planes of your neck and shoulder.

You begin to shake and sob, never having been dealt with him actually touching you and being a victim to his lust. You've taken the protection of your brothers for granted, and oh how you wish you could softly howl out if you had the courage to ask for help.

But the blonde's presence itself is enough of a threat to your life and safety, that much being made clear as his hands grow claws, no doubt his physical appearance shifting from being so riled up. Your skin prick and cuts as his nails jab harder into you, his hands roaming up and down your back, feeling your hips and ghosting over the swell of your ass as well as chest.

You writhe against him which unbeknownst to you, pushes your naked chest out against his own shredded pecs, your pebbled nipples grazing his toned skin and practically making his eyes roll back in efforts not to pin you down and take you like his bitch.

"I just wanted to wash," your voice comes out pleading, and meek. You have no idea how he'll react to you being aggressive and defensive against his assault even if you had the courage to speak out against him.

"And I want to claim you as my omega," he growls directly in your ear, causing you to whine again and cower your head beneath his hounding mouth. "But I guess we'll both have to wait for what we want, huh?"

He knows you know.

You have to know.

Have to have known how badly he wants you, wants to hear your voice ring high with laughter like you do teasing your sisters, wants to hear your playful growls as you wrestle with your brothers who let you win just to see you swish your tail with prowess. He wants to feel you rest your head on his chest, wants to see you look up at him with security and ease, knowing that he's there to protect and love you.

But how can he explain that, with years of nothing but threatening looks and yards of distance between you two?

If it brings you familiarity and perhaps ease of seeing him as you've always thought to have known him, as a brute with nothing on his mind apart from taking you like an animal and conquering you, then he'll save the monologuing for later.

"After all," he heaves in the darkness of the seclusion, voicing his thoughts, "your birthday's coming up, right? You'll be of age to be claimed."

He thrusts his knee in between your trembling legs, pushing your shoulders down while following with his head and never letting his mouth rise above your unclaimed mark. You gasp as he begins grinding his knee in circles against your hooded clit, bouncing you lightly to evoke whatever sweet noises he can from your pursed lips.

You choke and sputter, suddenly grasping around his neck for leverage as you try to pull yourself up, but you're no match for him as it only serves to prove his point and enrage him from your constant rejection.

You can lie to him all you want, but your body never will.

"And trust me, little girl, when that cunt ripens for me to take, when that neck fucking sings for me to lay my mark-"

Your voice cracks into a howl as he takes one of his hands and squeezes the fat of your tit while the other spanks your jiggling ass on his knee, feeling whiplash from the onslaught of sensations.

"-I can promise you, there's no running. There's no cowering behind your brother's legs like some fucking baby, there's no using your sisters as an excuse to turn your face away from me."

Bakugo presses you tight against the wall, smothering you chest-to-chest with him and using the confined space to rut his naked erection against your thigh, his hips snapping forward and chasing years of needed release in your presence.

"I'll tie you down on my bed, face down ass-up and breed you as my bitch. I'll take you bent over and wrapped around me against every surface and floor of our secluded cave."

You blubber as you can feel yourself coming to a high, the water splashing obnoxiously at your humping against each other. In an effort to keep your pride, you try as hard as you can to grit your teeth and delay your orgasm, but he seems to catch on pretty quick.

"And then," he drops your tit and uses both hands to pry your asscheeks apart, impaling you impossibly closer down on the hard bone of his knee, your clit grating deliciously as his leg vibrates and flexes from moving you back and forth, up and down, any direction he can get your teeth to latch onto your lip and pussy clench on nothing.

"Then, you won't have to hide that pretty voice anymore. I'll get those years of silence back in exchange for your screams for help."

At this, he hugs you flush against the wall and himself as you shake from your orgasm, the water rippling at your reaction.

"So if I were you, I'd be grateful for any solitude from now on. Because you won't be getting it anymore."

#mha #bnha #tw: noncon #bnha yandere #mha yandere #yandere bakugo #yandere #bakugo #mha bakugo #bnha bakugo #yandere katsuki #yandere katsuki bakugo #tw omegaverse #omegaverse #alpha bakugou #alpha katsuki

2K notes · View notes

aerynwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Remember

Halsin x gn!Reader

A/N: thank you for the request @sabersandsnipers! I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy! See the request here.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: kissing, love confessions, miscommunication, drunk reader, drunk confessions, morning hangovers/blurry memory, Halsin being a gentleman 🥰

The campfire burns brightly in the night, heating your already heated cheeks.

You all finally came across some good wine, pilfered from a wine cellar in a small abandoned town. Astarion practically melted as he read the labels. Practically glaring at you when you asked him what was so special.

“These are vintage darling. Practically liquid gold compared to the piss we’ve been drinking.”

Your other companions had happily helped tote crates of the stuff back to camp then, excited to finally indulge in the best, for once.

And it is the best. The best you’ve ever had for sure. At least in recent memory.

The wine is rich and decadent, passing your lips without that unpleasant burn the cheap stuff gives. It’s sweet and slides down easily - maybe a little too easily.

It turns your brain to figurative mush, your limbs starting to feel heavy despite the uncontrollable giggles slipping past your lips as Karlach acts out another one of her battle stories.

Your inhibitions have started to slip, especially those tied to your tongue. Because along with your giggles you’re unable to stop your flirtatious rambling to the druid sitting beside you at the fire. He is also taking part in the festivities, albeit more cautiously, only having had a single glass to your…

Well…you don’t know how many.

Another giggle slips past your lips as you lean into the man at your side, watching as Karlach flops down onto the ground in a reenactment of her downing an enemy. Wyll goes to help her up but is also unsteady on his feet and soon joins her in the dirt, both of them howling in laughter.

Halsin lets out a laugh of his own at their antics and you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your numb lips.

“I like your laugh,” you say, turning to look up at Halsin.

The man is taller than you even sitting down, so when he looks down to you, pieces of his hair fall forward into his face.

“My laugh?” He asks, a smile splitting his lips as he most likely finds enjoyment in your inebriated state.

You nod, leaning forward once more to rest your forehead against his chest, abandoning your goblet in favor of wrapping the man in a weak embrace.

“I just like you,” your words are slurred as you slump more into the larger man’s embrace. “And you smell good.”

Halsins chest rumbles with laughter beneath your cheek and it just further adds to the buzzing beneath your skin, even more so when you feel his hands grasp your arms gently.

Yet another thing you notice about him. His hands are calloused, roughened with years of using a weapon and tending the land and communing with nature. But he’s so…gentle. His smile, his words, his laugh, his entire being just screams safety.

It’s what draws you to him no matter how much you try to stay away. Which isn’t very much considering he has slowly started to reciprocate your attraction.

At least…you hope.

“I think it’s high time for you to get some rest,” Halsin says, moving to stand from his seat and guide you to do the same.

“What?” You ask, the world spinning slightly as you get to your feet. “But I’m having fun!”

The words are slurred as Halsin slips an arm around around your waist to steady you, slowly leading you away from the fire. You don’t miss the various whistles and hoots from your other companions as he does so.

Halsin smiles, not that you see it as you focus on putting one foot in front of the other as he leads you.

“I know you were, but it will be an ill-fated day tomorrow if you continue to drink.”

Despite your drunken state you recognize the wisdom in his words.

“You’re probably right, but -“ you pause as you struggle to take in your surroundings before you realize you’re being led away from your tent.

“Wait, my tent is that way,” you emphasize by pointing a staggering finger in the vague direction of your tent, a movement that causes your feet to twist up beneath you.

You would have fallen if it weren’t for the druid at your side stopping to catch you before opting to lift you into his arms instead.

“I know where your tent is located, but my tent is far closer.”

You hum in response, your head lolling backwards, eyes meeting the stars above you.

“I can walk, you know.”

Halsin laughs at this, shifting to support your head as he draws closer to his tent. “Your earlier attempts would disprove that statement.”

You pout your lip at him as he finally ducks into his tent. “You’re mean,” you say plainly.

“I apologize, little one.”

His words hold little apology but you don’t point it out as he finally lowers you to your feet, helping as you try to steady yourself. Only when he pulls away do you finally look up at him, and you take the moment of silence to take in the man before you.

He’s still smiling down at you, all while watching to make sure you keep your feet. His brows furrow slightly with every uneasy shift of your body, his hands tightening where they rest on your hips.

Without thinking you reach up, placing uncoordinated fingers against the scars that run over his brow. He stills at this, eyes widening for a moment before fluttering closed as you trail your fingers down. Your hand cups his cheek now, thumb running over where the scar ends just below his lips.

Lips you want nothing more than to kiss right now.

His eyes open then, as if sensing your questioning stare. You’ve both drifted closer to one another during this silent moment, your chests brushing together as you look up at him.

“Halsin?”

“Yes, my heart?”

Your breath stutters in your chest at the new nickname, and you can smell the faint scent of wine on his breath as he speaks.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words fall into silence, and you can practically feel the tension in the air dissipate as Halsin’s eyes close tightly, a sigh falling from his lips as he steps away from you slightly.

Your drunken mind moves before he speaks, making you stumble over your words.

“Oh that’s - I understand. I shouldn’t have asked, that was - I’m sorry I-“

Before you can ramble any further, Halsin has your face cradled in his hands, green eyes capturing your own.

“You misunderstand,” he tells you, thumbs brushing your cheek bones lightly. “I have wanted to kiss you, to touch you for longer than you can imagine,” he admits, eyes softening. “But I do not wish for our first kiss, our first coming together to be in the midst of a wine induced haze.”

He smiles.

“I want you to remember this, and I’m afraid in this state, you may wake tomorrow with no memory of tonight.” He moves to push a stray piece of hair from your face as one hand settles at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I do not want to lose a moment with you.”

His words ease the anxiety roiling in your belly, and you find it in you to nod. The sentiment increases the heat in your cheeks once again.

Halsin smiles at your ascent, and gently leads you to bed. His bed roll is set up on top of a pile of furs which cradle your body perfectly where you all but flop onto it. Your earlier statement of not being tired is quickly erased as your eyelids begin to shut, sleep tugging at your mind as you settle into the soft bed.

The last thing you remember before slumber takes you is the feeling of warm hands trailing your arms before something soft covers you and one brief thought.

He feels the same.

——————

A pounding headache is what eventually wakes you from your slumber. Your mouth is dry, tongue laying thick in your mouth as you try and fail to swallow and wet your mouth. Your eyelids feel filled with sand as you peel them open, only to be met with darkness. The only light is from the sun seeping into the tent in thin slivers from the slightly parted tent flap.

You notice multiple things at once. First being that you’re not in your tent, but in Halsins. The second being the smattering of blurry memories from last night.

Oh Gods…I basically threw myself at him!

You remember that vaguely, asking to kiss him, and then the rest is…foggy. You remember him turning you down and then not much else afterwards.

Pushing yourself up on shaky arms you try to take in your surroundings, letting out a small sigh when you see Halsin isn’t in the tent with you. You can avoid embarrassment just a little longer, at least.

You quickly grab your shoes that you see at the end of the bedroll and after making sure the coast is clear you make your way across camp in the early morning light to your own tent.

The next few hours pass in a blur if periodic sleep and the eventuality of the camp stirring to life around you. A rude reminder that you can’t avoid a certain druid forever.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Karlach's voice pierces the air as she pokes her head into your tent. “Can you take firewood duty? We’re running low.”

You nod quickly. You might not be able to avoid the inevitable but…maybe a little longer.

————

The woods are quiet, this time of day, morning starting to give way to midday as you wander through the trees, gathering suitable logs for camp.

However, the tranquility of nature gives your mind time to wander back to last night, desperately trying to force memories to light. But no matter how hard you try, nothing new comes to light. Just you embarrassing yourself in front of the man who’s captured your affections.

You sigh, before gasping as the toe of your boot catches on an exposed root, your thoughts distracting you from your surroundings. The wood in your arms teeters precariously and just about falls to the forest floor before you feel two strong hands steady you.

“You look as if you could use some help,” a familiar voice says, and your stomach flips as Halsin comes to stand in front of you, smiling down at you. “Here.”

He reaches out to take the wood from you before you can protest, the pile that nearly filled your arms looking tiny against his larger frame.

You want to become defensive, but stop yourself before you can snap. Your anger is misdirected to him when you’re really upset with yourself.

You give the man a small smile. “Thank you,” you say before gesturing back towards camp. “I think that should be enough for now, we can head back.”

Halsin just nods before moving in step beside you as you both make the short trek back to camp. Neither of you speak at first - you too anxious to bring anything up and Halsin is probably too polite to do the same.

At least you thought.

“You were gone from my tent when I arrive back from a hunt this morning,” he says simply. An observation. Yet it feels like an accusation, or at least a question. But you almost feel like you can hear…disappointment in his words. Hurt.

You don’t look at him, embarrassment blooming in your chest again. You shrug. “I just…figured I’d save us both the awkward embarrassment.”

You’re at the edge of camp now, and you stop next to the dwindling wood pile and start unloading pieces from Halsin arms onto the ground.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you finally say, avoiding his gaze still. “I shouldn’t have drank so much and I definitely shouldn’t have put you on the spot and I just thought that if I left this morning it would save you from having to turn me down again and-“

The last piece of wood falls from your hands as you fumble over your words, but a steadying hand quickly reaches out to grab your own before you can move to pick it up again.

Finally, you turn to look at Halsin, and you’re taken aback to see…amusement twinkling In his eyes, his lips tugging up into a small grin.

“So you do not remember last night?” He asks, head tilting to the side slightly.

You shake your head, frowning. “I mean I don’t - I remember some of it. I remember asking to - to kiss you…” you cringe slightly at the hazy memory. “And then I remember you pulling away and-“

Before you can ramble any further, callused hands cup your cheeks and soft lips capture your own.

A memory comes to you then, as if Halsins touch alone makes it resurface. You remember what you thought was his rejection, then his confession, then his kind words after.

“I want you to remember this.”

He didn’t reject you. He returns your affections, and has for some time now it seems.

You finally kiss him back, your hands falling to his waist and gripping the fabric of his shirt in your hands. He pulls you closer then, lips moving against yours in a way that screams desperation. He’s been holding back for so long, and so have you.

But not anymore.

Yet he pulls away all too soon, leaving you breathless and wide eyed as you look up at him, still gripping onto him as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear if he steps away.

“I don’t think I could have forgotten a kiss like that,” you say, voice soft.

Halsin laughs, a quiet chuckle as his thumb runs soothingly over your cheekbone.

“I will not forget this moment either,” he assures. “But I did not want to risk losing it to the haze of last evening. These things are better enjoyed with a clear mind.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the seriousness of his words. “You’re not wrong in that,” you say, reaching up to trace gentle fingers over the scars on his brow.

Another memory flickers to mind and you smile as you watch Halsins eyes flutter closed, just like they did last night.

“Halsin,” his name is a whisper on your lips.

He smiles, eyes blinking open once more. “Yes, my heart?”

Gods that nickname.

“Can I kiss you?”

He pulls you closer, nose brushing your own. “You never have to ask, little one. My heart is yours.”

And then his lips are on yours again, and you're silently glad he made you wait. Because he was right.

You don’t want to lose a moment with him, either.

#halsin x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 halsin x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 halsin #halsin

2K notes · View notes

claramelooo · 9 days ago

Text

Hey, babies! Let's go to a another chapter (penultimate chapter)! To write this chapter all i needed was a sad playlist, beign on my period and one KitKat, can you believe that?

If you want, I can make available the playlists that helped me create the story.

Now, enjoy it <3

FEEL FREE TO FEEL

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warnings: ANGST, ANGST, ANGST, HOMOPHOBIA, CHRISTIAN GUILT

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem Reader

Summary: The consequences of your actions arrive.

VELVET CHAINS

Consequences

The last month had been an emotional rollercoaster. The time at Wanda’s house had been intense, almost surreal, like a dream you never wanted to wake up from. But, like all dreams, it came to an end. Returning home brought reality back, with controlling parents and suffocating expectations. You and Wanda kept talking, but something had changed.

She didn’t text as much as before. The calls, which used to be long before bed, now barely lasted 30 minutes. And even when you took the initiative, her responses became colder, shorter.

You tried to ignore it.

The SAT was approaching, and that consumed all your energy. “She must be busy,” you told yourself. But an uncomfortable feeling of loss began to grow, like a silent emptiness.

As soon as the test was over, you felt like you could breathe. You felt confident—the test model this year was the same as what you had studied. But now, all you could think about was fixing things with the woman who haunted your mind, even in your dreams.

You wanted to see her, to get answers. But when you arrived, no one was there. A neighbor mentioned that the Maximoffs were at the hospital—Billy had fallen ill. Panic gripped you. You spent days trying to contact Wanda, sending messages, calling, but it was like shouting into an abyss. Her silence was deafening.

Then, during a family lunch after Sunday service, your mother casually said, “Wanda really needs our prayers right now.”

You furrowed your brow, confused.

Your father fervently agreed. “Yes. Now that Billy has finally received his diagnosis, it will be easier for our prayers to reach the ears of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment.

“What… happened to Billy?” you asked, fear creeping into your voice, gripping your utensils harder than necessary.

“Oh, dear! Billy has cancer.”

The world stopped.

Your mother’s words echoed like thunder inside you, shattering any fragment of calm left. Billy has cancer.

The utensils fell from your hand with a dry clatter onto the table. The air seemed to freeze in your lungs as the weight of those words seeped into your mind like poison.

Images of Billy flooded your mind: his mischievous smile, the spark in his eyes when he ran through the garden, the way he threw himself into your arms without hesitation. Now, all of that seemed distant, fragile, as if it could disappear at any moment.

“Are you okay, dear?” your mother asked, but her tone felt more like an obligation than concern.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to blame your mother for treating the news so lightly. But the words wouldn’t come. There was only a tight knot in your throat, choking you.

“Excuse me,” you murmured, hastily getting up from the table, your legs shaking with every step.

In the bathroom, you slid down the door to the cold floor, your chest burning with despair. The news hit you like a violent wave, and you couldn’t breathe. The tears came, hot and uncontrollable, as you pressed your hand against your mouth to stifle the sobs.

All you wanted was to see him, to see Wanda, to say you were there for whatever they needed. But how? Wanda wasn’t answering. She didn’t want you around.

Without thinking twice, you went to the Maximoffs’ house.

However, when Wanda opened the door, her gaze was cold as she looked at you.

“What are you doing here?” The question cut like a knife.

“I... I heard about Billy. I wanted to know how you both are,” your voice trembled, but you tried to sound firm.

The woman sighed, crossing her arms—building a wall between you.

“This isn’t your problem,” she replied, her tone sharp.

You stood frozen at the threshold, as if the icy pain of her words was physical. Her tone was distant, almost cruel, but her eyes… Ah, Wanda’s eyes told a different story. There was something there, a shadow of pain, of something unsaid, that made your chest tighten even more.

“Wanda, please,” you tried, taking a step inside, but she raised her hand, blocking your entry.

“I said it’s not your problem,” she repeated, more firmly, though her voice had a slight tremor at the end.

“How can you say that?” Your voice cracked, the words coming out desperate. “I care about you both. I care about him! About you!”

Her green eyes closed for a moment, as if gathering strength. When they opened, they were harder, but the pain you saw there almost made you collapse.

“You don’t understand. You can’t understand.” Her voice dropped, almost a whisper, but still heavy with weight.

“Then explain it to me!” you pleaded, feeling the tears threatening to fall. “I’m here, Wanda. I’ve always been here!”

She laughed, but it was a bitter laugh, without humor. “You think that’s enough? That being here will fix anything?”

You took another step, desperate to break the invisible barrier she had placed between you. “I don’t know, but I want to try. I want to help!”

Wanda shook her head, her golden hair swaying with the motion.

“You can’t help. Not now, not ever. You need to go.”

“Don’t say that…” your voice broke.

“You need to go,” she repeated, quieter this time, but still unyielding.

Silence fell between you like a stone, heavy and unbearable. Her eyes, so bright and so full of everything she didn’t say, pleaded with you for something her words denied.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered, unable to contain the tears now.

She took a deep breath, looking away, but not before you saw the glimmer of her own unshed tears. “Because it’s better this way.”

“Better for who?”

She didn’t answer. She simply closed the door slowly, leaving you on the other side.

You stood there, your forehead pressed against the cold wood, the sobs finally taking over you. The emptiness she left was suffocating, and all that was left were her cold words, which didn’t match the warmth and pain you saw in her green eyes.

You left with half of your heart shattered.

A month later, the SAT results finally arrived. You were in the living room, your heart pounding so loudly it seemed to echo through the space. When you opened the email and saw the word “Congratulations!”, tears immediately filled your eyes.

“I did it,” you whispered to yourself, disbelief mingling with happiness.

But it wasn’t just a “Congratulations.” It was Yale. The university you had spent countless nights dreaming about, imagining its halls, the lectures, the debates that would shape your future. It was the beginning of something monumental, the start of a journey that always felt so distant and yet so viscerally yours.

You ran to the mirror in the hallway and looked at yourself, laughing as tears streaked your flushed cheeks. “I did it! I did it!”

The dreams you’d held close to your chest began to take form. Studying International Relations at one of the world’s most prestigious universities was more than a personal achievement; it was the first step toward making a difference. You envisioned nights buried in books, exploring cultures, questioning systems, trying to understand—and maybe, to change—the world.

Above all, there was your dream of becoming a writer. A quiet desire that grew with every story you created, every character you brought to life, every corner of the world you translated into words. You wanted to be more than an observer. You wanted to be a storyteller, someone who could take the complexities of life and turn them into something that could touch others.

Changing the world—that had always been the goal, even when it seemed impossible. Perhaps it was too ambitious, maybe even foolish, but it never stopped you. You knew that, with the right words, you could reach hearts, open minds, and perhaps inspire someone like you to never give up.

In that moment, alone in the room, you allowed yourself a moment of pure joy. Every sacrifice, every sleepless night, every doubt—it had all been worth it. You weren’t the girl who just dreamed anymore. Now, you were the girl who made it happen.

And Yale was just the beginning.

But when you were ready to share the news with your parents, you were met with a suspicious look. “So?! What’s this news you have to share with us?!” your father asked, his tone sharp, leaving you confused.

You swallowed hard, the paper with the printed Yale email trembling in your hands. The pride you’d felt just moments ago was suffocated by the tension in the room, as if the air itself might shatter.

“I… I wanted to tell you that I got into Yale,” you started, trying to ignore the edge in your father’s gaze and the false softness in your mother’s voice. “I did it. I’m going to study International Relations. My dream—”

“Yale?” your father interrupted, his voice icy, almost harsh. “And what exactly do you plan to do there, huh? Continue with this shameful behavior we’ve been hearing about?”

“Shameful?” Your voice came out as a whisper, confusion and fear gripping you.

Your mother let out a deep sigh, as if exhausted by something beneath her notice. “Don’t act innocent, Y/n. People talk! One of the sisters at church told us you’ve been behaving… inappropriately with Yelena.”

You felt your heart plummet, your hands tightening around the paper until it crumpled. “Yelena is my friend!” you tried to explain, but your mother raised a hand, silencing you.

“Friend?” She laughed, but there was nothing warm in that sound. It was cold, harsh. “We hoped you would understand what happens to girls who stray from God’s path. Or do you think you can ignore His teachings and still expect us to tolerate it?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice faltered, but anger began to simmer beneath the surface, mingling with humiliation and hurt.

Your father took a step forward, his expression dark as a storm. “You know exactly what I’m talking about! Don’t pretend to be blind. Or do you think we’re fools?”

“Dear, please,” your mother attempted to soothe him, but he ignored her.

“I’ve always known there was something wrong with you, Y/n. Always so… different. Strange. God knows we tried, we prayed, but maybe this was a mistake. Maybe we never should’ve given you life.”

Those words landed like a knife, slicing through everything inside you. You stepped back, wide-eyed, trying to process what you had just heard.

“How can you say that?” Your voice trembled, but it was strong enough to echo through the room.

Your mother shook her head, a look of false sadness on her face. “No one’s saying you have no worth, Y/n. We just want you to understand… this path you’re taking is wrong. We don’t want you to lose your soul.”

You felt tears burn your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of them. The pride of getting into Yale, the dream you so desperately wanted to share, was ruined—drowned in the pain of prejudice from the very people who should have loved you unconditionally.

“I haven’t lost my soul,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “But I think you’ve lost yours.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked out, clutching the crumpled email against your chest. The pain was suffocating, but the small flame within you—that dream of changing the world—refused to go out.

Their words were cruel, irreversible, leaving a wound you knew would never fully heal. You cried, but instead of drowning in the hurt, you did what you always did: you turned to Wanda.

When you arrived at her house, Wanda was in the living room, absently toying with a book.

“I needed to see you,” you began, but she didn’t even look up.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice cold.

“Wanda, please. I have no one else. Let me explain—”

“There’s nothing to explain,” she interrupted, finally looking at you.

Her eyes glimmered with something that felt both vulnerable and cruel. “You need to move on with your life.”

“You’re pushing me away,” you whispered, the pain spilling over.

“Yes, I am.”

“Why?”

She closed her eyes, sighing deeply, as if searching for calm—or perhaps the words. “Because I need to be here. With my children, with my husband.” The mention of Vision as her husband made your heart bleed.

The pain in Wanda’s words was like a direct blow to your chest. You searched her eyes for a spark of truth, something to tell you this wasn’t real, that she didn’t mean it. But her gaze was implacable—cold and empty.

“Is that it? You’re saying everything we had… was nothing?”

“It was a mistake.”

The word hit you like a dagger. You stepped back, feeling the ground disappear beneath your feet. “A mistake?” Your voice was barely audible.

“Yes,” she insisted, as though repeating it could convince herself. “I can’t keep doing this. You’re young; you have your whole life ahead of you. I’m just a woman trying to keep my family together.”

Her words left you shattered.

“You’re lying,” you said, tears finally escaping. “You feel it too, Wanda. I’ve always seen it in your eyes.”

She hesitated—a crack in the mask. But then she shook her head, bitterness lining her expression. “You need to leave, Y/n. Don’t come back. Don’t write. Don’t look for me.”

“Wanda…” you started, but she raised her hand—final, definitive.

“Go.”

You stood there for a moment, searching her face for anything—anything to hold onto. But all you found was emptiness. So you turned and walked away, feeling like each step took you further not just from her, but from a part of yourself.

Outside, the air felt colder, heavier. You didn’t know where to go. But you knew you couldn’t stay. And as the door shut behind you, the sound echoed like a full stop on a story you weren’t ready to end.

The bus that would take you to the university was crowded, yet somehow, you felt completely alone. The worn-out suitcase rested at your feet, carrying the little you had decided to take with you. Everything else—the memories, the broken bonds, the weight of unspoken words—was stored somewhere else, too deep to reach.

As the vehicle moved along the road, you stared out the window. The trees turned into blurs of green and brown, as though the world was rushing away from you, leaving behind a trail of silence and emptiness. Yet, amidst that emptiness, there was something different. A faint but unbreakable strength that kept you standing.

The first days in Connecticut were difficult. Loneliness felt alive, pressing on your shoulders as you explored Yale’s campus. The dream that had once seemed so bright now felt clouded, dimmed by the absence of something—or someone.

Still, you forced yourself to keep going. Routine began to fill the empty spaces: classes, books, notes. You threw yourself into studying, as if every word absorbed was a step toward rebuilding yourself. But at night, when the world grew silent, your mind wandered.

Wanda.

Her name was a constant whisper, echoing through the most fragile parts of your mind. You saw her in small details: in the brown of an autumn leaf, in the faint scent of citrus perfume, in the muffled sound of laughter in the distance. No matter how hard you tried to push her away, she always found a way to return.

But amidst the pain, there was resilience. You forced yourself to remember why you were there. It wasn’t just for a diploma; it was for something bigger. For a future. For a version of yourself that Wanda could not destroy.

One morning, as you sipped coffee at a small café near the university, you noticed something. The bitter taste of the coffee didn’t seem as bad as before. The sunlight filtering through the windows carried a warmth you hadn’t felt in a while. Small things that once went unnoticed now felt... possible.

You knew there was still a long road ahead. There were still nights when the weight of Wanda’s absence was unbearable, and days when the world seemed empty without her. But amidst all of that, there was a growing strength.

You were learning to stand up again. And maybe, one day, you could look back and realize that even in loss, you had found yourself.

[...]

"Mom!" Wanda dropped everything the moment she heard the boys’ scream from the bedroom.

“What happened?” She grabbed their cheeks harder than necessary, checking them over.

“Look, Mom, a hair grew!” Billy said happily, and Wanda smiled at the sight of a small brown tuft growing.

“Oh, look at that... We can finally pick a hairstyle for you, can’t we?”

Wanda laughed, feeling a genuine relief for the first time in months.

The joy in Billy’s eyes was contagious, as if that small strand of hair was a trophy—a victory over everything they had faced.

“I want a mohawk!” Billy declared enthusiastically, crossing his arms in a defiant manner.

“A mohawk?” Wanda raised an eyebrow, pretending to be horrified. “Do you know who's in charge of the style in this house?”

“Oh, Mom! Please!” Billy begged, pulling his best puppy-dog face, while Tommy, always the smartest, joined the conversation.

“If he gets a mohawk, I want one too!” Tommy said, already messing with his own hair.

Wanda placed her hands on her hips, staring at the two of them with a mockingly stern look. “If you two show up with mohawks, you’ll have to explain to Dad why he’s the only bald one in this house!”

The boys burst into laughter, and Wanda couldn’t help but laugh too, sitting on the carpet between them. It was a simple moment, but one filled with meaning. As the two argued about the most ridiculous hairstyles they could try, she realized how much these little things mattered.

She ran her fingers through Billy’s newborn strand of hair, her smile soft. “You know, you’re the bravest boy I’ve ever met.”

“I know I am!” Billy replied confidently, earning more laughter from her and Tommy.

As the boys laughed and made impossible plans, Wanda allowed herself something rare: hope. Perhaps the weight she carried could, little by little, dissolve in moments like this.

For a moment, she felt the urge to share this joy with you. To send a picture of the small tuft of hair or tell you how well the boys were doing. But then, she remembered you weren’t there anymore.

Even so, looking at her sons, Wanda knew she still had a reason to fight, to smile. She pulled both of them into a tight hug, ignoring their playful complaints.

“I love you both, you know that?” she said, kissing their foreheads.

“We love you too, Mom,” Billy replied, with the same smile that lit up Wanda’s world, even in the darkest moments.

Later, as Wanda stirred the stew with a wooden spoon, her thoughts drifted to ten months ago.

Discovering Vision had been like a lightning bolt shattering the perfect world Wanda had fought so hard to maintain. He hadn’t yelled, hadn’t confronted her directly. He didn’t need to. He simply looked at her with a mixture of disdain and disappointment, and in a cold tone, made his threat clear: “If this continues, I will take the boys. You know I can. And you know I will.”

That night, while Vision slept, Wanda sat at the edge of the bed, her hands trembling with pure rage. She watched him silently, battling thoughts that terrified her. A dark part of herself whispered that it would be so easy to end it all—one move, one spell, and Vision would be nothing but a distant memory. But then Billy coughed from the other room.

Reality came crashing over her like a wave—cold and crushing. The boy’s soft cough was the harbinger of the nightmare to come. Within days, the diagnosis arrived: skin cancer.

Wanda’s world collapsed.

Seeing Billy so fragile, so vulnerable, was a pain no words could express. The chemotherapy sessions left her boy weak, his bright smile fading little by little, replaced by a weary expression. He began losing weight, and the soft curls Wanda loved to caress fell out, untilnothing remained.

Wanda stayed by his side, but every treatment session was like a dagger to the heart. She held Billy’s hand as he cried, his small body shaking with pain and exhaustion, and the guilt grew inside her like a monster. She wondered if all of this was divine punishment—for betraying Vision. For letting herself be carried away by you.

And yet, in the quiet moments, while Billy slept, she thought of you. She thought of how you made her feel alive, how your presence illuminated the darkest corners of her soul. Of the smiles you pulled from her, even when the world felt too heavy.

But now you were part of the weight, too. Vision knew. Vision was watching. And Billy needed her. Wanda knew she had to cut off what existed between you two. As much as it hurt, it was the only way to protect her children.

So, she hardened her heart. She said the cold words she knew would push you away and that she knew she would regret later—even as her eyes silently begged you not to believe them. When you left, she cried in silence but tried to convince herself she had done the right thing.

As Billy began to recover, the guilt and emptiness only grew. With each day he grew stronger, Wanda felt grateful but also painfully aware of your absence.

And it hurt. Wanda began to experience withdrawal—she saw you in everything.

You were in every corner of the house, in every shadow of the sunset that lit the living room. Wanda heard your laughter echo through empty hallways, your soft voice whispering things only she could hear. It was as if the entire world conspired to remind her of you, and the more she tried to escape, the more you haunted her.

The nights were the worst. The pillow beside her seemed soaked with your scent, and it drove her insane. She would clutch the fabric, eyes closed, trying to recreate the feeling of your lips on hers, the warmth of your skin. But it was useless. It was torture.

Wanda began spending more time in her room, sitting on the bed, holding a book she couldn’t read. Every page she tried to focus on was a blur, replaced by images of you smiling, you laughing, you crying. The memory of your voice calling her name was almost tangible.

She began to wonder if she was losing her mind. The withdrawal was physical. There was a hole in her chest that couldn’t be filled, an insatiable hunger that no food or drink could satisfy. Wanda stopped eating, stopped sleeping. The woman who controlled everything and everyone in her life was now at the mercy of a desire that was slowly destroying her.

In a desperate impulse, Wanda grabbed her phone and typed in your number. Her hands trembled, and her heart beat so hard she could barely breathe. But before pressing the call button, she stopped.

She knew she couldn’t. That you were better off away from her. But knowing that didn’t make her feel better. It didn’t stop her from wanting you with an intensity that made her hate herself.

Wanda threw the phone onto the bed, her eyes burning with tears she refused to let fall. She leaned forward, hands in her hair, pulling it hard as she breathed deeply, trying to erase you from her mind. But you were an addiction.

An addiction that was killing her slowly.

“I hate you,” she whispered into the void, her voice hoarse, broken. “I hate you for making me feel this way.”

She loved you. She loved you so much it destroyed her. And as the days passed, Wanda knew she would never be whole again. Because even as Billy grew stronger, as life returned to some form of normal, somet

Another Sunday, another church service. But the woman had a plan—Wanda was nervous, though she tried to hide it. She dressed with her usual elegance, maintaining the calm posture that often intimidated others, even when everything inside her was chaos. As she walked to your house after the service, she rehearsed in her mind what she would say to your parents. Nothing too direct, just a casual question. She needed to hear something about you, anything that could connect her to you again.

When the door opened, your mother greeted her with a hesitant smile, as if she already knew the visit wasn’t purely social. After a few exchanged words, Wanda asked the casual question—or at least tried to make it sound that way:

“So, how’s Y/n? It’s been a while since I’ve seen her…” The woman’s eyes scanned the room, searching for your figure, for your shadow.

Your mother’s face hardened, and your father, who was sitting on the couch, let out a bitter laugh.

“How is she? We don’t know, because she left without even saying goodbye.”

Wanda froze, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it was crushing her ribs. “She... left?” Her voice came out low, almost a whisper, but heavy with disbelief.

“She did,” your father replied, his voice cold. “After everything we did for her, she decided to abandon us as if we were nothing.”

Your mother sighed, though she seemed more irritated than sad. “She was always… difficult. And now, look at her. Yale? Big deal. It means nothing if she doesn’t have respect for her own family.”

Wanda couldn’t hear the rest. The phrase “she left” echoed in her mind, a mantra that ripped apart every piece of logic or self-control she had left. She stood abruptly, mumbling something incomprehensible as an excuse to leave.

As soon as she stepped out the door, the mask fell. Her hands trembled violently as she searched for her car keys. The thought that you were gone, that you were far away and out of reach, was unbearable.

On the way back, Wanda could barely drive. The road was a blur as tears filled her eyes. She parked haphazardly in front of her house and rushed inside.

As soon as she shut the door, she collapsed onto the living room floor. Tears streamed down her face as she held her head in her hands, her body shaking with sobs she could no longer hold back. You had left. You weren’t there anymore. And she had never said goodbye.

“Why did you do this?” she whispered to the emptiness, her voice broken. “Why did you leave me? I… I just wanted to protect you…”

But she knew. She knew that pushing you away had been the greatest mistake of her life. And now, you were gone, and Wanda was alone, trapped in a world where everything felt colorless, lifeless.

That night, she picked up her phone again and typed in your number. But, just like before, she couldn’t bring herself to press “call.” All that remained was the emptiness of a name on the screen, and a hole in her chest that nothing could fill.

[...]

The morning was like any other over the past five years: a stifling Sunday, and Wanda sat in the back seat of the car next to the boys while Vision drove with his usual precision. She didn’t pay attention to the words he was saying, only nodding mechanically, keeping the serene face that had become her mask.

The twins, now 16, were as irreverent as teenagers could be, arguing over something trivial. Wanda heard the sounds but didn’t process the words. Her heart beat in the slow, hollow rhythm of a life on autopilot.

When they arrived at the church, Wanda adjusted her dress and put on sunglasses to hide the tiredness in her eyes. The family looked perfect—Vision held her hand with a polished smile, while Billy and Tommy walked ahead, grumbling about how much they hated being there.

Then it happened.

As they walked toward the church’s grand doors, something caught her attention. It was a woman standing across the street, scrolling on her phone. Her hair, the way she held her bag, her posture… everything made Wanda’s heart stop for a moment.

It was you.

Wanda blinked, feeling the blood freeze in her veins. It couldn’t be. You were far away. For years. But that woman...

Without thinking, she let go of Vision’s hand. “Wait here,” she said quickly, not looking back.

“Wanda? Where are you going?” Vision asked, confused, but she was already crossing the street.

“Hey, Mom! What the hell?” Tommy shouted, but she didn’t respond.

Wanda’s heels struck hard against the asphalt as she ran, her heart racing. Every step made her believe more: it was you. It had to be you. The world seemed to stop, all the noise around her muffled by the sound of her ragged breathing.

“Y/n!” she shouted, her voice hoarse and desperate.

The woman stopped and turned slowly, a confused expression on her face.

But it wasn’t you.

Wanda’s heart plummeted. Reality hit hard, like a cold blow to the stomach. The woman was taller, her eyes a different color, and the smile she gave was polite but completely unfamiliar.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked, unsettled by Wanda’s intensity.

“I… I’m sorry,” Wanda murmured, stepping back, her face burning with shame. “I thought you were someone else.”

Without further explanation, she turned and began walking back to the church, her shoulders tense, trying to hide the trembling in her hands.

Vision was at the entrance, arms crossed, with the boys beside him, both looking visibly confused.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice laced with irritation.

“I just… thought I saw someone,” Wanda replied, her tone flat.

Billy tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at her. “Are you okay, Mom?”

She forced a smile, briefly caressing his face. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t. Because as Wanda climbed the church stairs, the emptiness inside her felt even larger, as though it had been ripped open again by the memory of you. And she knew, with crushing certainty, that she would never stop searching for you—in crowded streets, in dreams, in the past she could never bury.

That afternoon, the house was silent, except for the distant clatter of dishes being washed in the kitchen. Vision had gone out to deal with something for work, and Wanda sat on the couch, her hands clutching a cup of tea as if it were a shield.

Billy and Tommy were upstairs, but she knew it wouldn’t take long for them to come down. That’s how every Sunday was: a mixture of monotony and tension that seemed to suffocate the air in the house.

When the sound of their footsteps began echoing down the stairs, Wanda tried to brace herself. She knew the boys were growing up, becoming more curious, more incisive. And lately, they seemed much more attentive to her.

Tommy appeared first, followed by Billy, whose expression was more serious. They sat on the couch opposite her, exchanging looks before Tommy finally broke the silence.

“It’s time for you to talk, Mom,” he began, as direct as always.

Wanda lifted her eyes to them, frowning. “Talk about what?”

“About you,” Billy replied, his voice softer but just as firm. “You haven’t been the same in years.”

She laughed nervously, trying to deflect. “Of course I’m the same. You two are just growing up and becoming nitpicky.”

“No, Mom. That’s not it,” Tommy insisted, leaning forward. “You’re different. Since… I don’t know, since we were younger. It’s like you’re living on autopilot, like you’re here, but not really.”

Wanda looked at them, her heart tightening. They were so perceptive, much more than she wished they were.

“And, like,” Tommy continued, hesitant now, “there’s something you don’t want to talk about. There always has been. We just didn’t know what it was before.”

“Tommy…” Billy shot a warning look at his brother, but Wanda was already on alert.

“If you have something to say, just say it,” she said, her voice low.

Tommy took a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before blurting out, “It’s about that girl, isn’t it? Y/n?”

Wanda’s world seemed to freeze. Her breathing stopped, and the name rang in her ears like an explosion.

Billy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Tommy!”

“What? You think I don’t know? Every time someone mentions her name, Mom gets that look…” He gestured dramatically at Wanda’s face, which was now completely pale.

“That’s none of your business,” Wanda finally managed to say, her voice trembling.

“But it is our business,” Billy replied firmly. “Because you’re our mom, and this has been eating at you for years. Who was she, Mom? Why is she so important?”

Wanda looked at them, her chest tight, her eyes burning with tears she wouldn’t let fall. How could she explain? How could she put into words something so overwhelming?

“She was…” Her voice faltered, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find strength. “She was someone I never should have met. But someone who changed everything.”

The boys exchanged confused glances but didn’t interrupt.

“She… She made me feel alive in a way I never had before,” Wanda continued, her voice barely a whisper. “And I lost her. Because I chose to lose her. Because I had to choose you.”

Tommy fell silent for the first time, and Billy looked as if he was about to say something, but Wanda stood up, gripping the cup tightly.

“That’s all you need to know,” she said, her voice now firm. “She was a mistake I couldn’t keep.”

Tommy was the braver of the two, while Billy had always been more sensitive. Billy pulled the woman into his arms, even though she hadn’t asked for the hug. Wanda didn’t refuse—she wasn’t in a position to.

“So that’s it? She was a mistake in the past, but what about now?” Tommy asked, his tone impassive.

Wanda looked at the boy, cursing how much they had inherited her stubbornness.

“Tommy, I’m married to your fa—”

“Oh, Mom! Don’t start!” The boy huffed. “We all know your marriage is just a façade. Everyone knows.”

Tommy’s words hit Wanda like a punch to the stomach. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He was right. Everyone knew. She knew.

Billy still held her in his arms, squeezing her with the tenderness that only he seemed capable of offering. Wanda relaxed momentarily, letting herself be embraced by her son, but Tommy’s gaze remained fixed on her, as if he wouldn’t let her escape so easily.

“Tommy, you don’t understand. I can’t just…” Wanda started, but her voice faltered.

“Can’t what?” Tommy interrupted, standing up from the couch. “Can’t go after the one thing that actually makes you happy? Can’t fight for someone you still love? That doesn’t make sense, Mom!”

“Tommy, it’s not that simple,” Wanda insisted, her voice trembling. “There’s so much at stake. I have you, I have responsibilities—”

“Responsibilities that leave you like this?” Billy murmured, letting her go but staying close. “We can tell, Mom. You pretend all the time, but you’re not happy. You haven’t been happy for as long as we can remember.”

Wanda ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. “You don’t know everything. You don’t know what I did, the choices I had to make. You don’t know how much I lost.”

“Then tell us,” Billy said softly.

Wanda looked at him, feeling tears burn her eyes, but she held them back. “I can’t. I don’t want you to see me differently.”

“We already do, Mom,” Tommy shot back, his tone serious. “And you know what we see? A woman who sacrificed so much for us that she forgot about herself. It’s not fair. Not to you, not to us.”

“Tommy…”

“Listen,” he continued, his voice firmer. “If she’s still that important to you, why don’t you try? Why don’t you do something? You’ve always told us to fight for what matters. Why is this any different?”

Wanda looked at him, stunned. “You’re… encouraging me to go after her?”

“Yes,” Billy replied, nodding. “We don’t want a mom who lives on autopilot. We want you to be happy, even if it means things have to change.”

“But what about you? What about your father?”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Dad can keep pretending he’s perfect. He’s more worried about appearances than the truth.”

Billy took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Mom, you deserve this. If she’s the one you love, then go after her.”

Wanda felt her heart tighten, but also a spark of something she hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. She looked at her sons, her boys, who were now almost grown, and saw in them the strength she herself seemed to have lost.

"You two are impossible," she muttered, but there was a small smile on her lips.

"True," Tommy replied, crossing his arms. "And you'd better do it before it's too late."

Wanda closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop running from what truly mattered.

[...]

The rain was falling heavily, but Wanda didn’t care. Her soaked coat clung to her skin, golden hair plastered against her face as she walked down the nearly deserted sidewalk. Each drop seemed to press against her harder, as if the force of the storm was trying to send her back home. But she couldn’t turn back. Not now.

When she finally spotted Yelena's small shop, Wanda felt a mix of relief and nerves. The dim light inside cast a faint glow, and the blonde’s silhouette moved behind the windows. Wanda pushed the door open with force, the bell above ringing in a tone that sounded almost desperate.

Yelena, who had been shutting off the lights and closing the register, turned around slowly, a cigarette between her fingers, her face faintly illuminated by the ember. She didn’t look surprised at all.

"Well, look who decided to show up," Yelena remarked, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. Her eyes assessed Wanda with both disdain and curiosity. "What do you want here?"

"I need to know where she is," Wanda replied, her voice firm, but her eyes betrayed her desperation.

Yelena let out a short, humorless laugh, extinguishing the cigarette in the nearest ashtray. "You think I’m just going to hand that information to you on a silver platter? After everything you did to her?"

"I didn’t come here to argue," Wanda replied, fists clenched at her sides. "I just need to find her. Please."

"Please?" Yelena raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. "You think a ‘please’ can erase the years of pain you caused? She loved you, Wanda. And you broke her heart."

Wanda swallowed hard, the guilt pressing heavier on her chest. "I know," she admitted, her voice wavering. "I know what I did. But I need to fix it. I need to talk to her, to explain—"

"Explain what?" Yelena cut her off, crossing her arms. "That you chose the comfort of a false life over her? That you preferred hiding behind a sham marriage while she suffered?"

"I didn’t have a choice!" Wanda exclaimed, the pain overflowing in her voice. "I had to protect my children. I had to protect everything that was important to me."

"She thought she was important to you too," Yelena shot back, her eyes hard.

The silence between them was broken only by the sound of the rain pounding against the windows. Wanda took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

"Please, Yelena," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "I need to see her. Just tell me where she is."

Yelena was silent for a moment, her eyes carefully studying Wanda. Finally, she sighed, grabbing a small piece of paper and a pen. "This isn’t for you," she said, scribbling something down. "It’s for her. Because, despite everything, she deserves the chance to decide whether she wants to hear you or not. Go there, and bring my little sister back."

She handed the paper to Wanda, but before Wanda could leave, Yelena grabbed her arm. "Don’t screw this up again. If you do, don’t ever look for me. Not for her, not for anyone."

Wanda nodded, clutching the paper as if it were a lifeline. Without another word, she stepped out into the storm, the rain now feeling slightly less heavy.

Wanda stopped in the middle of the street, the rain beating relentlessly against her face, but she hardly felt it. Her eyes were fixed on the paper in her hand, the address already smudged by the water but still legible. A distant thunder rumbled, but nothing could drown out the turmoil inside her.

The truth was raw and inescapable: she hadn’t been alive since the day you left. Every heartbeat since then had felt borrowed, as if she were just occupying space in a body that no longer belonged to her.

"Be it too late or not," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling but full of conviction, "I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering."

She gripped the paper so tightly it nearly tore, her fingers trembling—not from the cold, but from sheer desperation. Because if Wanda knew one thing now, it was that she had already lost too much. She couldn’t lose you again, even if it meant facing the worst parts of herself.

Lifting her face to the sky, Wanda let the rain wash over her—though it could not lift the weight from her chest. Then, without hesitation, she took the first step, the sound of her heels echoing against the wet asphalt.

Each step was a declaration. Each beat of her heart, a scream. She loved you. Loved you enough to tear down any barrier, to face any storm. This time, she wouldn’t let fear win. This time, she would be brave enough to fight for what truly mattered.

Even if it was too late.

~*~

Mommy Wanda will go after what is hers.

UREVISED CHAPTER

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580 @valentine585

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @bees-for-brains @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @sheriffhaughtearp

@wandasslut3000