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delulujuls · 4 months ago

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the true one | jacaerys velaryon

hi, here comes the pt3 of my jace series. i was having few ideas for how to end this one but i got carried away and i even started to feel bad how i decided to solve it.

we will see if i will end this up on here or write another part because man i do really feel bad for aegon:( im not gonna lie, at one moment i started to smell a love trangle forming up here lmao

summary: love lifts you up, but it can also hurt you. in case of dragon princess and young prince from dragonstone, love saved westeros from war, but it broke one heart that was already broken enough. a shattered heard from someone who since the beginning wanted love, not the crown.

warnings: mentions of sex, nothing crazy though

pairing: sister!targaryen reader x jacaerys velaryon (ft. cregan stark aka the-best-wingman-in-whole-westeros and aegon 'the broken boy' targaryen)

King Viserys did not engage in many wars during his reign, for he was considered a wise and good ruler. However, those that were unavoidable, he almost always managed to win. There was one battle he unfortunately could not win, and that was the battle with his illness.

Death came for the good king shortly after his 52nd Name Day, leaving Westeros without a ruler. There were two candidates vying for the Iron Throne, each equally certain of their right to it.

Many believed that Rhaenyra, the king's first child, was the rightful heir to the throne. However, because she was a woman, the crown fell to Aegon, Viserys' eldest son. Ultimately, he was proclaimed the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, but not everyone agreed with this decision. One of those who did not was Rhaenyra herself.

The Princess of Dragonstone, believing there had been a misunderstanding, began to gather allies around her who were willing to support her claim to the throne. Aegon, of course, did the same. At some point, however, there was no more talk of a peaceful resolution, and gathering allies turned into gathering armies. A cold wind blew over Westeros, heralding not only the coming winter but also war.

The most distant from the sunny King's Landing to the south was the North. There lay many settlements rich in resources and armies, which were now more valuable than gold. Both Rhaenyra and Aegon had no intention of wasting time. They had to secure allies faster than their opponent.

"You will go North," Rhaenyra told her eldest son. "Lord Cregan is closer to your age than mine. I am sure you will find a common language."

Jacaerys nodded silently and embraced his mother. He understood the weight of the task entrusted to him and intended to fulfill it to the best of his ability. Similar words Alicent Hightower directed to her eldest daughter when she visited her in her chambers one evening.

"Me?" the young princess asked, sitting in front of the mirror and brushing her hair. The maid who had been doing it earlier quickly left the room as soon as the queen appeared. "You have the King's Best Sword and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard at your disposal, and you want to send me to the North?"

"Aemond may wield a sword skillfully, and Ser Criston may be an envoy of even the Father himself," she said, gripping the back of the chair her daughter sat in. "But they are still men. They are driven by the desire to fight and pride."

When she looked at her daughter's face in the reflection, the girl merely shook her head.

"The people of the North must see the sacrifice we are willing to offer. You will not gain their support by intimidating them with a dragon but with gentleness and a good heart, burning with zeal and the desire for peace."

"The desire for peace," the girl scoffed. "You want to send me there to gather people ready to go to their deaths."

Alicent lowered her gaze. She looked at her daughter's bright hair, flowing down her back like liquid gold. She took it between her fingers and began to braid it.

"You are betrothed to the king, soon to be his wife and queen of the Seven Kingdoms," she said. "You will present yourself to them as the king's prudent right hand and future good queen. No one warms the image of a ruler better than his wife."

"Rhaenyra doesn't need to send anyone to the North to gain their support," she replied, glancing at her mother in the reflection. "You know well that no one will stand by the usurper."

"Perhaps not by the usurper, but by the future queen, they might."

The young princess knew that her mother left her no choice. Knowing that her journey was doomed to failure, she mounted her dragon the same day and set off in the direction from which the cold, winter-foretelling wind blew.

The eldest Targaryen princess and the prince of Dragonstone had not seen each other since they had celebrated Rhaenyra's 32nd Name Day together with King Viserys. Much had changed since then. News of the king's death spread across Westeros, and the Targaryen family split in two. Nothing indicated that the young princes, bound by feelings, would ever meet again. Certainly, none of them expected to meet hundreds of miles from home on frozen ground.

Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell, knew this well. Ravens informing of the visit had reached him from both King's Landing and Dragonstone. The Small Council, in which the Wolf of the North sat, tried to dissuade him from the crazy idea of bringing both warring sides to Winterfell. However, Cregan was hopeful that Jacaerys was not driven by his mother's spirit and that the young princess was not a reflection of her cruel brother. He believed he would see dragons dancing while playing on the snowy sky, not waging war. He believed that youth and good hearts would prevail.

The prince of Dragonstone arrived in Winterfell first. Vermax swooped down from the sky with a roar, causing the inhabitants to watch the winged beast in horror. Neither the dragon nor its rider had any ill intentions. The same intentions did not drive the young princess, who arrived in the capital of the North shortly afterward. Just as the relatively small Vermax instilled fear in the people, so did the sight of the massive Vermithor prompt many to clasp their hands in prayer. May the Old Gods watch over the North.

When the Bronze Fury descended from the sky, Lord Stark and Prince Velaryon were on their way back from the Wall. They learned of the guest's arrival only when a rider came to meet them, announcing the arrival of a dragon.

"A dragon?" Jacaerys furrowed his brow and looked questioningly at the host. "Another dragon has come to Winterfell?"

"Yes, my prince," Cregan replied, urging his horse forward. "Let us hurry, we must not keep the guest waiting."

The young princess was informed that Lord Stark would soon arrive and was taken from the cold and invited to the chamber set aside for her stay in Winterfell. She removed her warm cloak and sat by the fireplace, rubbing her cold hands. She had been uncertain during the journey, but now she began to feel genuinely nervous. What was her mother thinking, sending her here?

Jacaerys remained silent throughout the return journey, gripping the reins so tightly his fingers went numb. Who had come to Winterfell? Had his mother sent someone after him? If so, why? And if it wasn't Rhaenyra, someone from King's Landing must have come North. Aegon? No, that would be too prudent. Aemond? Had he come to secure allies? And why had Lord Stark accepted this so calmly? Was it an ambush?

When they arrived at Winterfell, they headed straight for the castle. Instructed which chamber the guest awaited in, they went there immediately. Jacaerys' heart pounded wildly, and he did not share Lord Stark's calm demeanor. When Cregan knocked and pushed open the heavy door to one of the chambers, Jacaerys felt his heart leap into his throat. Hearing the knock at the door, the young princess felt the same. She took a deep breath and rose from her seat, smoothing her tunic with her hands. She looked up at the entrance and saw a tall, young man. She guessed that the steely-eyed youth was Lord Stark. However, he was not alone; someone else entered right behind him. The princess could not believe her eyes. She felt as though her mind was playing tricks on her after the exhausting journey.

"Jace?" she spoke uncertain, almost questioningly.

Jacaerys was in such shock that he felt as if his legs had grown roots into the ground.

"Princess," was all he could stammer out as she quickly approached him and hugged him tightly. The young prince closed his eyes and returned the embrace strongly. Feeling her in his arms, her hair tickling his face, he realized it was not a dream. It was truly her.

Cregan smiled at the sight of the dragons lost in each other's embrace. He knew he had no reason to worry. Kindness and youth would always prevail.

Still holding the girl, Jacaerys glanced at the Wolf Lord. Cregan smiled at him and quietly left the room.

"I thought I would never see you again," the girl whispered after a moment, pulling away and cupping his face in her hands. Tears shone in her violet eyes. Jacaerys took her hands and kissed each one.

"I feared the same," he admitted, not hiding his own emotions.

The pair sat by the fireplace, talking animatedly. They held each other's hands tightly the entire time, as if afraid that one might disappear at any moment.

They talked for a long time, forgetting the world around them. They spoke of what had happened to them since their last meeting, about the events that were tearing their family apart, and about the looming war. When their conversation turned to more serious topics, a servant entered the room, announcing that Lord Stark invited them to dinner. The Dragon Princess and the Prince of Dragonstone joined the Wolf of the North. The dinner was sumptuous but did not have many guests. The dining room hosted only the three of them.

"I hope you don't hold this arranged meeting against me, your Highnesses," Cregan said, pouring them wine.

The princess shook her head while eating, taking a sip from her goblet.

"It was a bold move, my lord," Jacaerys admitted. "I guess you had no certainty about how it might end."

"Indeed," Cregan acknowledged. "But I felt that neither of you held the dark values that sometimes blind your families. Luckily for me, and even more for the people of Winterfell, I managed to avoid making another Harrenhall here."

"You can't deny your courage, my lord," the girl smiled, glancing at him. "A bit of madness too."

Cregan smiled at her words and raised his goblet in a toast.

"I hope we can reach a good understanding together."

The princely pair also raised their goblets in a toast. That evening, there was no lack of wine and ale, and the topic of the impending war, though important, was left for another day. That evening was spent on more pleasant and mundane conversations. It did not resemble an evening where three representatives of different values gathered, but rather three friends.

As the wine started to buzz in their heads and the table was cleared of food, Lord Stark declared it was time to retire. After wishing each other a good night, Jacaerys went to escort the princess to her chamber. He held her securely by the waist to prevent her from falling, as their legs wobbled like reeds in the wind. The pair giggled quietly in each other's arms, their cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

"Stay with me," she whispered when they reached her chamber. "I guess the nights are exceptionally cold here."

"How could I refuse you, princess," he smiled, and she returned his smile and pulled him inside. On unsteady legs, she walked to a small mirror and sat down, beginning to undo her hair. Jacaerys approached her and gently, with great reverence, began to help. He carefully untangled her braids, occasionally glancing at her face in the mirror. Their eyes met frequently, eliciting soft giggles. The young prince had never stopped having feelings for her, feelings that had blossomed so vividly when they spent time together on Dragonstone. The young princess couldn't recall a day when she hadn't thought of him. Her heart, which she was supposed to give to another, loved the Velaryon youth unconditionally.

"You're even more beautiful than I remembered," he whispered. He slowly ran his fingers through her hair, feeling as if he held velvet in his hands.

The girl smiled and stood up, facing him. She touched his cheek and ran her thumb along it. Jacaerys did the same, pulling her by the waist closer to him with his other hand. He noticed a necklace with a three-headed dragon, each head holding a green emerald, around her neck. The young prince's face saddened.

"Have you already married him?"

"No," she replied. "And I still don't want to."

Jacaerys looked up at her, about to say something, but she kissed him impulsively. Realizing what she had done, she wanted to pull away and apologize, but the young prince caught the back of her head and deepened the kiss. She cupped his face in her hands, returning each kiss.

"Marry me, princess," he whispered. "We'll run away to where the map doesn't reach. Away from all this."

The Dragon Princess smiled and nodded, kissing him tenderly in response. Their wine and ale-soaked lips exchanged deep kisses, and their hands clumsily removed each other's clothes. Shortly after, they found themselves in a fur-covered bed, lost in each other's embrace. They didn't think about whether what they were doing was wrong. What was wrong was marrying someone you felt only fear and hatred for. The young princess knew she could never feel for Aegon even a fraction of the feelings she had for Jacaerys.

As night turned to dawn, the pair lay entwined together. Their naked, sweat-drenched, and kiss-marked bodies lay intertwined, almost as one. The girl pressed her cheek against the prince's chest, stroking him gently, and he held her, tracing patterns on her bare back with his fingers.

"Let's get married here," she said after a while. "Here, in the Godswood."

Jacaerys smiled sleepily and hugged her tighter. "Do you think Lord Stark would agree to that?"

"I think he'd be the first to bless us."

The young prince chuckled softly at her words. The girl lifted herself and looked at his face.

"I love you, Jace," she confessed almost in a whisper. "And I'm afraid I won't be able to stop."

The boy smiled and cupped her face. His heart swelled at her words. The love he saw in her eyes was boundless.

"I love you too, princess. I would give my life for you."

The next day, even before the three of them sat down for breakfast, Lord Stark knew what had transpired in one of his castle's chambers. He had heard that the bed in Jacaerys' room remained unmade and that he had arrived at the dining hall in the company of the princess. Cregan would be lying if he said he wasn't pleased. He hadn't realized the feelings the pair of dragons had for each other. It turned out that love could indeed conquer war. Still filled with apprehension, Jacaerys decided to present the Wolf of the North with the idea of marriage.

"Who am I to dissuade you from this idea?" he replied. "I will gladly lead the princess to the wedding myself."

That same day, in the Godswood, the wedding ceremony took place. Compared to weddings held in the Faith of the Seven, it was modest. Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell, fulfilled his promise and led the dragon princess to the Weirwood tree, where her Velaryon prince awaited her. Beyond the wall of the Godswood, two large dragon heads watched, occasionally breaking the silence with squawking and growling.

The witnesses to the wedding were dragons, the Wolf of the North, the Heart Tree, and the Old Gods, who silently observed the marriage. Dry leaves rustled in the icy wind, and snowflakes settled on the rosy cheeks of the soon-to-be-married couple, who became husband and wife after a brief ceremony.

"So, it is done," Lord Stark smiled. "But what kind of wedding would it be without a feast?"

The newlyweds exchanged smiles and, holding hands, followed the Wolf of the North towards the castle. That day, the specter of war had to wait as well.

However, the next day, the issue of northern allies and whose side they would take had to be addressed. The dragon princess represented the greens, while Jacaerys the blacks.

"Have your lords side with us," the princess proposed during a Small Council meeting, gripping her husband's hand tightly under the table. "Not with Aegon or Rhaenyra. Let them withdraw from this battle for allies."

"With all due respect, princess, are you planning to fight? To be a third party in this conflict?" one of the men at the table asked.

"There will be no war," Jacaerys interjected. "And even if there were, it wouldn't be the North's war. They won't participate in what's happening in the South. This will weaken the military forces."

"We can't be neutral," another man stated. "Lack of a side is worse than betrayal. What if someone less benevolent than you comes on a dragon and razes us to the ground?"

"No one will do that," the princess assured. "I guarantee your safety."

"I do too," Jacaerys added. "The capital must understand that this conflict has no higher purpose and will only bring unimaginable misery."

"I'm afraid, Your Highnesses, that neither Princess Rhaenyra nor King Aegon will relent," one of the men replied. "Do you think your marriage would dissuade them? The King could annul it at any moment."

"The King can continue doing what he does best, drinking himself into oblivion and fucking whores," the girl snapped, involuntarily squeezing Jacaerys's hand harder. "If the news of the wedding isn't already on its way to the South, it will be soon. Tomorrow we'll head back and announce that the marriage is a peace treaty. And if that doesn't impress anyone, we'll send a message to all who have allied with both Aegon and Rhaenyra to withdraw their commitments. I swear by the Seven, no one, given the choice, will go to certain death. The fight between dragons will bring nothing else."

The princess's words brought silence among the gathered. After a moment, Lord Stark stood up and drew his sword, kneeling before the girl.

"You can count on me, princess. The Stark family will side with the young couple."

The dragon princess smiled and nodded to him. Grateful, Jacaerys did the same. Soon after, each of the men at the Council meeting followed the Wolf's lead. The girl's passionate and convincing words withdrew not only the Stark family but also the Umbers, Karstarks, Mormonts, Boltons, Ryswells, Reeds, Hornwoods, and Cerwyns from the conflict. And it was just the beginning.

That same day, ravens were sent to all who had castles from the Wall to Moat Cailin, from the Stormy Shore to Widow's Watch. Each message was signed by the young couple and the Wolf of the North himself.

"I wish you much perseverance, Your Highnesses," Cregan said before they mounted their dragons. "But I believe you will manage to dissuade us from war."

It might not have been appropriate, but the girl hugged him tightly in farewell. Cregan had done unimaginable things for them in just a few days. The Wolf of the North smiled and hugged her back.

"I've never met someone with a heart like yours, princess," he admitted. "You have my word that the North will always protect it."

Jacaerys extended his hand to him, but Cregan hugged and patted him on the back. The Prince of Dragonstone smiled and returned the embrace.

Two dragons left Winterfell, but the icy wind carried them for a long time. That same wind brought news of the wedding to the South shortly after, before they had traveled even a quarter of the way.

"May the Seven protect us," Alicent sank into her chair when the maester came to her with the news. She strictly forbade anyone to speak of it, especially to Aegon. She quickly sent for the Hand.

Otto laughed when he heard the news. His daughter, however, found no humor in it.

"Brilliant," he remarked, filling his goblet and taking a sip of wine.

"Brilliant?" Alicent thought everyone had lost their minds. "She broke off the engagement. Aegon could burn Dragonstone to the ground when they return."

"If I were Aegon, I'd pack the crown in the finest cloth, seal it with the best wax, and send it to Dragonstone immedatiely."

Alicent shook her head and buried her face in her hands. Otto did not share his daughter's pessimism.

"Or better yet, he should place it on dear sister's head himself when she returns from Winterfell," he corrected. "The girl circumvented a code we didn't even know existed."

"She caused a catastrophe!" Alicent exclaimed, looking at her father in disbelief. "She was Aegon's betrothed and the future queen. She was only supposed to go North to gain allies!"

"And she decided to end the war," he replied. "We definitely placed the wrong child on the throne."

Alicent shook her head in disbelief. She didn't know if her father was joking or if he genuinely saw no problem with the situation.

"So what should we do?" she asked, looking at him.

"First, we should wait for them to return and announce this joyous news," he said.

When the dragons reached the South, they decided to separate. Jacaerys returned to Dragonstone, wanting to personally deliver the news to his mother not only about the marriage but also about the withdrawal of the northern armies from the war. The princess returned to King’s Landing and immediately made her way to Aegon’s chambers.

She didn’t know if the news had reached her brother, but she decided to handle the matter herself and as a priority. A small dagger hung at her belt, and she had no guards with her except for the two standing in front of Aegon’s chamber doors. The men greeted her and bowed slightly, but she dismissed them as soon as she stood in front of her brother's chambers. She took a deep breath to muster some courage as she raised her fist and knocked on the door.

When a voice from inside instructed her to enter, the young princess pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside. Aegon stood before a large mirror, dressed in armor. Three men were fussing around him, making adjustments, adding and removing parts of the armor. Three guards stood beside Aegon, talking animatedly with him. However, when they noticed the princess, they bowed, and the two tailors did the same. Aegon saw in the mirror’s reflection a figure he hadn’t seen for several moons. He smiled and turned, taking a sip of wine from the goblet he held.

"My brave, sweet sister," he said, stepping down from a small stool. He was drunk, as always. "Did you secure the North for me, my dear?"

"I need to talk to you," she approached, glancing at him. "In private."

"You heard the future queen, out!" Aegon commanded, waving his hand. Shortly afterward, the room was empty except for the siblings. The young king finished his wine and set the empty goblet aside, stepping closer to the girl. When he was within arm’s reach, he raised his hand to touch her cheek, but she pulled her head back.

"I hoped that your visit to the North would cool your temper a bit," he admitted, lowering his hand. "But i see that even the harshest cold can’t chill a dragon."

"I married Jacaerys," the girl said quickly, almost as quickly as if she had shot an arrow from a crossbow. Her voice didn’t tremble. She raised her eyes to her brother’s face. "I won’t be your wife, Aegon."

The boy snorted, but seeing her serious expression, he couldn’t help but laugh.

"What did you do?" he chuckled. "Repeat it, because I must have misheard."

"We got married in Winterfell, and Lord Stark decided to withdraw from the war. His vassal lords too, and the whole North was given the same choice."

Seeing that his sister wasn’t joking, Aegon wiped the smile from his face. His eyes, though glossy with alcohol, looked at her in shock. His eyelid twitched.

The young princess clenched her jaw. However, she didn’t take a step back. Her muscles tensed involuntarily, readying for a fight or flight. Aegon, however, didn’t say a word. He was the first to retreat. He reached for the goblet and poured himself some wine, drinking it greedily. The girl expected anything. She was ready for his screams, insults, and threats. She was even ready for him to raise his hand against her. But Aegon did none of that. He sat on the stool he had stood on moments ago and gripped the goblet in his hands.

"Why did you do it?"

The princess didn’t expect to hear that question. Now it was she who felt as if she had misheard.

"To weaken and humiliate me?" he asked, raising his eyes to look at her. "Or to hurt me?"

"I love him," she admitted sincerely. She wasn’t lying. It had never even crossed her mind to strike at her brother in such a way. "And he loves me. He is kind to me."

Aegon lowered his gaze, staring at the goblet in his hands. Despite the armor he wore, despite the title of king he held, he felt like a rat. His reaction surprised the girl. To such an extent that she didn’t know what to say.

"Would I be incapable of loving you?" he asked after a moment, looking at her again. The girl couldn’t meet his eyes.

"You only fill me with fear," she admitted quietly.

Aegon’s eyes roamed her face. He recalled a time when he had gone too far and threatened her with a knife, the times he bullied and intimidated her. He lowered his gaze. You fill her with fear, monster, he thought. You are a monster, Aegon.

In silence, the girl raised her eyes to her brother’s face. Deciding that the conversation had no chance of continuing, she turned to leave his chambers.

"I'm sorry," his voice called out behind her. The young princess turned and looked at her brother. Aegon’s cheeks were wet with tears. "I apologize for everything I did to you."

"I was never your enemy," she replied. She couldn’t muster anything more to say.

She quickly left her brother, heading to her chambers. She wasn’t ready for a confrontation with her mother. She needed to recover from what she had just experienced.

Nevertheless, Westeros managed to dispel the looming specter of war. The wind from the North brought only winter, not bloodshed. Every few days, ravens arrived at Winterfell with news that another castle had joined the young dragons’ marriage and withdrawn from the war. Families from the east, west, and south did the same, sending their assurances directly to Dragonstone. Rhaenyra and Aegon had to abandon the conflict. Viserys’s eldest daughter even planned to go to King’s Landing to reconcile with her brother and acknowledge him as king. The same day she planned to set out, a messenger brought her a small chest.

"What is this?" she asked, glancing at the young man. She accepted the gift uncertainly.

"From King’s Landing, Your Grace."

Jacaerys stopped his mother’s hand as she reached for the latch on the chest. "It could be a trap."

"Would Aegon want to kill me in such a way?" she looked at him with amusement. The young prince hesitantly withdrew his hand.

Rhaenyra opened the box and had to blink several times. She reached into the chest and pulled out a crown. The same one her father had worn on his head.

In shock, she looked at her son and niece, who were as astonished as she was.

"Aegon returned your crown," the girl said quietly.

"It doesn’t have to be Aegon," Jacaerys shook his head. He didn’t believe in any good intentions from his uncle.

The girl took the crown from Rhaenyra and examined it in her hands. In several places, she noticed fingerprints stained with wine. She had no doubts.

"It was Aegon."

#jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd s2 #hotd season 2 #hotd one shot #aegon ii targaryen

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plutoswritingplanet · 8 months ago

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It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt.3

a/n: so i lied about this being the last chapter, there's one more, i know im sorry....... also shout out to my friends, who were unbelievably helpful with the smut part because oh, there's smut here

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (yuuuh yuuuuuuh), Alcohol, like....a tiny bit of Humiliation.

Summary: The month-long courting comes to an end with a bang! As your engagement party commences, wine flows and darker feelings rise to the surface

Pt. 1, Pt.2 Pt.4 (finale)

In the darkness of the night, he still comes to you in your dreams, knife in hand, body taunt and ready to strike. Every single morning, you awake with a gasp, as visions of your tormentor plague you. In some, he slits your throat, reveling in the way red cascades down your nightgown. Other times, it's a quick and brutal stabbing, your insides twisting as you wake.

But then, there are those rare nights where you rise from your bed, sweat clinging to your skin, as you fight with the pressure in your stomach, try to rid yourself of the images, before making yourself presentable for breakfast.

Those dreams, nightmares, are the worst.

White, elegant fingers, grabbing, pulling, pinching every surface of your exposed skin. Defined arms around you, squeezing your pliant body in an embrace that is as tender and romantic, as a snake suffocating its victim. Deceivingly soft lips, mapping a trail down your front, pulling back to reveal teeth, which make that same trail visible, hurting.

In those dreams, he paints you with black. Taints you, until you're molded into his perverse image, until there's no telling where he ends, and you begin. He makes you into a sculpture, in a way that an artist cuts away pieces of clay, slowly robbing you of all agency, until there's only what he wants to see. And you let him, with a trembling smile on your lips, hands twisted into the stained sheets of your bed.

Ignoring him has become an art form as well.

Since your faithful tangle at the training barracks, you did everything in your power, to never appear in the same room as him, or at least, never alone. You became a shadow in your own home, a whisper of the person you used to be. Shame is a powerful thing, and you wore it like a wedding veil over your face. Paul would always help you, silently. Never asking outright what had happened between you and the Harkonnen, but somehow always knowing. Your brother, your salvation, breaks your heart everytime he grabs your hand, and leads you away from the predator in the room.

The date of your engagement party has been set a week into the future. The nervous bustling of the court only heightening your already wracked thoughts, as the inevitability of your situation begins to haul you to the ground.

Your Mother took most of the preparations on her back, directing the servants, the kitchen, the musicians. She picked out a dress for you, some flowing abomination, which hung in your closet, reminding you every morning, that you will have to wear it with a smile. You hoped, there will be wine at the feast, hope that it will be sweet enough to dull your insides.

As the date of the feast comes closer and closer, you begin to spend more time outside.

The air is crisp and smells of seawater, and you can't help but inhale fully, every time. You want it seared into your brain, so whenever you're taken away from your home, you can run back to this memory, to the feel of grass under your fingers.

- You'll catch a cold, if you keep sitting here.

Paul's voice brings you back from your dark thoughts, and you look up, from your spot in the grass. He stands a couple paces back, hands folded behind his back in a manner, that is reminding you of your Father more and more every day.

- Do you want to join me? - you ask, your lips quirking up into a small smile - Or would you prefer to stand there like a pillar of salt?

Your brother shakes his head, before coming closer and plopping down next to you, his skinny legs stretched out in front of him. The both of you sit in silence for a while, enjoying the breeze ruffling your hair, the smell of ocean and the waves crashing into the cliffs. There are seagulls flying over your heads, and you feel the moisture from the grass seep into your clothing.

A wistful sigh escapes you, before you can stop it, and you let yourself fall, laying flat on the hill.

Paul looks down at you, undescribable sadness swimming in his eyes, and an instinct of sister awakes in you, a need to comfort, despite being a wreck yourself. So, you offer him a smile, a tired one, but a smile nonetheless.

- Do you think we could take the horses for a ride today? - your brother asks with naive hope, his eyes turning to the sea.

- Mother won't allow me to go, she wants me to spend my pondering the proper behavior during the feast - try as you might, you can't hide the bitterness in your voice - Besides, I could fall off and hurt the merchandising.

Paul's hand finds yours, and he squeezes your fingers tightly. It's hard not to break, in moments like these. When you're forced to remember, you'll most likely never see your family again.

- If I could do something, anything... - you recognize that feverish note in your brother's voice, it's devoid of reason, impulsive, too much like you.

- But you can't, so you won't.

A frustrated sound escapes his mouth, and he turns back to the sea. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, eyelashes falling heavily on your cheeks. He looks like a Duke, you conclude, and that thought feels strangely comforting. No matter where you'll be shipped off, no matter what life has in store for you in the future, somehow, you know your brother will persevere.

- Do you remember that time Gurney made us train on the beach? - you ask, a sudden wave of nostalgia washing over you, as the clouds float in the sky above you - Cause of the... The balance. We had to try to balance in the sand.

Paul twists his head towards you, surprised at the turn of the conversation, before cracking a smile.

- Yes, he slipped on the rocks, nearly broke his backbone - he starts to wave his hands around in a wonderful reenactment of your mentor's fall, before collapsing next to you in the grass.

Your laughter mingles with the sounds of the sea, as the both of you, the future of House Atriedes, share memories, scenes from the life you've lived together. The good and the bad. The horse races through plains and hills of Caladan, the many, many food fights. It's hard to tell, how much time you spend together, laying in the grass, but when you finally fall into silence, the air has become considerably more chilly. A sign, it's time to return to reality, to your duties.

- You should've been me, and I you - Paul whispers suddenly, and you close your eyes in a pained expression.

Perhaps it's true. Perhaps Lady Jessica made a mistake, and gave a Daughter where she should've given a Son. Now, it's no longer important. Your roles have been set in place, all you could do, is fulfill them. Somewhere back, in the direction of the Palace you can hear a voice calling your names. A reminder, that the world outside this grassy sanctuary exists, and can't wait any longer.

You move to stand, Paul gathering himself up closely behind. Your clothes stick to your body, and you're shivering from the cold, but if you could spend just one more moment exactly like that, you would've taken that chance without question.

An arm snakes around your elbow, and you lean onto your brother's shoulder, as you start to walk back, steps swaying like a pair of drunkards. Then, Paul tugs you closer, you can feel him tense suddenly, as he leans with a sullen expression on his pale face.

- I hate the way he looks at you - he confesses, waves upon waves of righteous Atriedes fury crashing in his voice.

You don't know how to respond to that, so you stay silent, giving his arm a reassuring tug.

That was the last conversation you've had with your brother.

*** While the House Atriedes is characterized by a rather mellow temper, there was one thing they took extremely seriously. And those, unfortunately for you, were engagement rituals.

So, that's why you sit posed like a porcelain doll in a deep chair, next to your soon-to-be husband, at the foot of a long table, surrounded by music, and dancing, and food. There are ribbons hung from the high ceilings, and flickering lights float around them like little fireflies. You watch, as they dance above you, the ridiculous headdress placed on your hair digs into your skul. Color surrounds you, your own dress flowing like a waterfall, elegant, yet delicate. The pools of fabric gather around your legs, a chiffon monstrosity, that you know, is supposed to make you beautiful.

And perhaps you would've felt beautiful, if this was any other occasion. A birthday feast, perhaps. Dare you say, and engagement party with someone you actually loved.

Speaking of which, your betrothed sits beside you, sticking out like a sore thumb. He looks utterly bored, eyes following the celebrating masses, hand playing with a steak knife. Not enough blood for his tastes, you suppose. He's dressed in traditional Harkonnen attire, which you think, doesn't really look that much different from all the other outfits you've seen him in. Black, sleek, efficient. You must be a curious pair, a mass of colorful materials and a black-stone pillar.

The wine, thankfully, is sweet. It warms your face, and turns your insides into a pleasant mush. You should've eaten more, but then again, it was a celebration of your imprisonment, and if you wanted to get drunk, you would. And you did get drunk. Quickly.

The dress moves with you, as you slowly slide down the chair, one leg resting up on the seat. A frightfully unbecoming sight, but you can't find it in yourself to care. Another, clumsy drink from your cup, and you sigh deeply, blinking a couple of times to rid yourself of sudden dizziness.

Your betrothed gives you a look, whether it's of warning or amusement, you're not sure. And you don't care. Your nose scrunches in the general direction of his smooth head, and you take another sip, just to spite him.

- Shut up - you grumble, a slurr entering your words.

- I haven't said a word - he counters, and this time you can see him smile.

- You're thinking, it's annoying.

Feyd Rautha has an unpleasant laugh.

Sharp and low, and very rough around the edges. It's like listening to an old spaceship try to take off, and you're sure you don't want to hear him laugh ever again. That's it, your goal in this, frankly, fucked up marriage, will be to never make your husband laugh. Although, it's best not to think about it so loudly, he might be a hidden mind reader, and would most likely laugh in your face every day, just to torture you.

God. You were going to regret every sip come tomorrow morning.

- You're wrapped like a present - Feyd Rautha leans down with a smirk playing on his full lips, and you have to crane your neck to look him straight in the face - Shall I unwrap you here, while your family watches?

Despite the light tone, you shiver under his gaze. Something in the way his body seems relaxed yet tense at the same time tells you, this shameless man would do it in a heartbeat, if you as much as inclined your head.

- Gross - you groan, hand untangling itself from the amassing of chiffon to push back at his face.

It's the first time, you've touched him out of your own volition, and even in your drunken daze, you note the sudden glint in his eyes. Fingers grab at your wrist, keeping you in place, as he leans further into your touch, turning his head slightly. Wine mixes with sudden embarrassment, as his lips brush against the meat of your palm. Then, black teeth shine and your heart jumps to your throat, as he bites down on your skin, hard enough to make you jump. Tongue darts out, licking a stripe up your thumb, before giving your fingertip a tiny nibble.

You tear your hand away from him, pressing it into your chest with an appalled expression. There are indents just below your thumb in the shape of his teeth, and the confounding feelings you've been trying to stoke for almost a month now, come crashing down upon you.

He looks satisfied with himself, returning back to his seat, and his steak knife. The utensil reflects the flowing lights, and despite yourself you swallow thickly, turning back to your cup, which is quickly becoming empty.

God, it was getting incessantly hot in this cursed dining hall.

Whether it was the wine, or the sudden wave of knee-bending arousal washing through you, you couldn't tell. (It was both, you were fully aware it was both) And you're uncomfortable, terribly so. You fidget in your seat, almost painfully aware of the heat, which has now spread further down. The fabric of the dress slides against your body, skin becoming far too sensitive, too hungry for touch. You try to relieve some of your torment, legs squeezing and rubbing together. Treacherous tongues of self-awareness rear its ugly heads, and you look up, and...

Of course he noticed.

Feyd Rautha places his chin in his hand, and he observes you with a knowing look, which turns dark and terrifying as soon as your eyes meet.

- Careful, lest the court starts talking - he warns you, his voice somehow becoming deeper than before, and you take a shuddering breath.

Dagnerous, this is dangerous.

You're seated far away from your family, from any consolation, and even if they were close enough to intervene, the masses of dancing people, the sound of their laughter... Your heart stops, a snake curling itself around your insides. Truly, if that beast of a man wanted to, he could make do of his threat from earlier, and take you where you sit. Haunted by that thought, both terrifying and arousing, you down the rest of your wine.

It doesn't taste as good anymore. Hell, it threatens to come back up, until you force it to sit in your stomach.

Duncan, you need to find Duncan, or you'll do something incredibly stupid. You'll do something incredibly stupid either way, but at least the regret will be less biting. So, pulling yourself up on trembling arms, you shuffle out of your chair, your betrothed's heated gaze following you on your way through the hall.

People don't even look at you, too enraptured with free food and drinks, and the music, which flows loudly through the air. Good, in any other case, the Duke's Daughter, stumbling drunk through corridors, would certainly lift some eyebrows. Your feet carry you towards the training barracks, a familiar route you've followed many times. Indulging in sex with your Father's most trusted advisor was not the healthiest form of regulating emotions, but you needed something, and God knows, you'd rather die than get it from anyone else. From Him especially.

The choice is made for you, however, as a strong hand wraps itself around your arm, just above your elbow, yanking you backwards, behind a stone column. The world spins in front of your eyes, and for a second you worry the company of wine warming your insides is about to abandon you along with breakfast.

- Do you truly thought, you could sneak away from me?

Finally, your eyes focus on Fey Rautha's face, almost demonic in the low light of the corridor. Shadows play on his expression, falling heavily over his eyes, and you try to wrench yourself from his grasp.

- What I do is none of your business - you slurr out, wringing your arm every which way, his fingers digging painfully into your flesh - Let go of me.

The Harkonnen presses himself closer to you, trapping your body between the stone and himself. His nose nearly crushes itself into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, taking a disturbing long whiff. You can feel his chest vibrate against your own, as he groans deep within his throat. It sobers you up in record speed, and you start to thrash in his hold. He subdues your outburst, as if he was made for it, before dragging his nose up, towards your hair. You snarl like a wild animal.

- Let me go.

His body moves on its own accord, tearing itself away from you in an instant, legs tripping over themselves, to put distance between your bodies. He looks up at you, muscles tense and an expression of shock painted across his pale face.

The ability to use the Voice was something you rarely took part in. Training sessions with your Mother went well, as expected of a woman, but you still had a lot of work ahead of you. You blink forcefully, steadying yourself against the wall behind you. Then, you notice the borderline murderous look on your soon-to-be husband's face.

- Witch - he spits out, baring his blackened teeth at you.

- I am the Daughter of Duke Atriedes - your voice carries a note of righteous pride, despite dread climbing up your spine - And you will treat me with respect, wedded or not.

He straightens himself with petrifying speed, and as he takes a step towards you, actions overtake reflection. Your hand winds back, and you bring a resounding slap across his sharp cheekbone. While your palm blooms with pain, he seems to barely react, closing the distance between the two of you after a tense beat. Before you have a chance to react again, his hands grab at your face, and his lips crash against yours in a punishing kiss.

Teeth clink together and the momentum of the kiss makes your head collide with the stone pillar behind you. He's fingers dig into your cheeks and your jaw, as he devours you completely, bringing down all your defences in one swoop. You kiss him back, almost immediately, opening your mouth to let him in, to meet his tongue halfway. It's almost grotesque, how much you hate and love this at the same time, the buzzing of the wine mixing with the sound of your racing heart, with the sound of his unabashed sounds of pleasure.

Hands flail at your sides, as you grab all you can take, pulling him even closer by the thick fabric of his tunic.

His hands however, know exactly what they want, and as he lets go of your face, they both sink down. Fingers hook into the neckline of your dress, and he tears it down, your entire body swaying with the force of his movement. Your breasts are freed for only just a moment, cold air hitting them in a way that would be uncomfortable, if they weren't immediately covered by your betrothed's large palm. He palms at your chest, as if he wants to crush it, and you bite back a whine, which threatens to spill from your abused lips.

- Don't - he growls a warning, unoccupied hand tangling itself within your hair - Sing.

And you do. As his mouth descends upon your neglected breast, where he alternates between licks and bites that make your back fly off the wall. Once again you don't know what to do with your hands, finding them entirely useless in the Harkonnen's overpowering grasp. One, grabs at his shoulder, undecided on whether to push him off, or pull him in closer. The other one scratches four lines into his skull, as he sucks on the sensitive skin under your ribs.

Finally, he detaches from you completely, standing straight and regarding you with a look so intensely ravenous, it shakes you to your core. Your exposed chest rises and falls in tandem with your heaving breaths, and you shiver, as cold air hits your skin. His gaze drinks in your dissheveled hair, the way your lips are puffy and red. A beautiful sight for his blackened eyes.

- I know who you went looking for - he starts, stalking towards you once again - Can't have that, can I?

You debate feigning confusion, outrage at such accusation, which hasn't really been uttered yet. But, as Feyd Rautha stops just short of the bottom hem of your dress, you suddenly find yourself unable to speak. Instead, as a last ditched effort to rid yourself of him, your hand extends, a half-hazard attempt at liberation. He swats it away, as one would a mere fly, before sinking to his knees in front of you.

- Lift up your dress, Viper - his voice is like thunder in your ears, and you bite your lips at the sight of his eyes, dark and surprisingly eager.

Hands move clumsily in an effort to gather all those translucent layers. You nearly trip over yourself, earning a rather nasty chuckle from below. As soon, as your legs are visible, he dives between the chiffon, his head dissapearing from sight. You can feel his lips, traveling up the expanse of your calf, giving a light bite under your knee.

Anticipation siezes your gut, and you grab onto the wall, as if that would save you. His hands grab your leg, skin incredibly warm to the touch for someone who looks so cold, and then, with forceful tugs, he starts to manouver you.

You let out an unbecoming squeak, as he yanks your leg over his shoulder. Strong hands keep you in place, and he reaches out around the upper part of your thigh to all but tear your undergarments off of your core. The force of this action makes you jump in place on your one available leg, just to hold your balance, and for a second you consider swatting at him.

That thought leaves you almost immediately after it appears, as an onslaugh of kitten licks unleashes downward. A vague, head like shape moves under your dress, the chiffon floating from place to place like a hypnotizing river. The wine must've heightened your senses to an alarming degree, because as soon as Feyd Rautha begins his ministrations, you're a mess.

It's honestly humiliating, the way you fight for any purchase on the wall behind you, as he begins to lick in earnes, parting your legs further with one hand, while the other wraps securely around your used leg. While there, he cops a feel of your behind, fingers biting into the soft flesh, and you lock your lower lip between your teeth so hard, you can taste blood on your tongue.

As if he's developed some new telepathic talents, his hand leaves your ass, in favor of winding up, and slapping it harshly. The action makes your jump in place once again, a sound stuck between outrage and glee fleeing your throat, before you have the chance to stop it. Right, "sing", you remind yourself, and immediately feel him change his tactics.

Your bundle of nerves opens new possibilities of torment, and as his lips close around the bud, you can't help the whine, escaping through your lips. The music is loud, you remind yourself. They won't hear, no one will hear. His hand pushes your dangling leg further up your shoulder, and your back arches from the stone. You will be sore as all hell after this is done, but for now, it doesn't matter. Nothing really matters, except the way your betrothed eats you out, like a man who's been starved for decades.

- Oh shit - you curse, hands flailing uselessly - Oh fuck!

All of a sudden, everything stops, and your building peak subsides into a dissatisfactory simmer. Feyd Rautha's head emerges from under the fabric, a terrible, shit-eating grin on his wet lips.

- Such language? - he teases, tongue darting out to lap at your arousal - So unbecoming of a-...

- Fucking don't stop! - there's panic in your movements, as you grab the back of his head, and shove him right under your dress again.

The laughter should be unsettling for you, but he returns to his post with twice as much motivation, and however more strength, and before you know it, your orgasm sneaks upon you. A sudden tightness in your core is all the warning you get, before the coil snaps, and your entire body starts to spasm in pleasure.

It's good. Incredibly so. You'd risk saying it's the most intense you've ever came, but never out loud, never to him. That shameful secret was between you and whatever God that was listening. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, your breathing stopping for just a moment.

And then you go deliciously limp, legs giving out completely.

To his credit, the Harkonnen catches you before you hit the floor, the arm curling around your leg proving to be an unmeasurable support. His head emerges from under the dress once again, and he lets you slide down the wall, until you're seated. He sways on the balls of his feet, still towering you, even as he crouches.

You swallow, throat slightly raw from all the noise you've done moments ago, and he follows the movements of your neck muscles with greedy eyes. Still greedy, after taking so much. Truly, he was a Harkonnen. And before you can stop yourself, a thought materializes in your brain, a treacherous little information, which would shake you to the core, if your muscles weren't currently made of taffy.

He blushes pink. Your betrothed blushes pink, from the exercise of making you cum on his tongue alone. God, what a precious sight.

He must've noticed the serene smile playing upon your lips, and his nature to ruin comes to light. His hand reaches back, and you freeze in your spot, as you recognize that damned golden steak knife. The blade shines in the dimly lit corridor, making your breathing faster, questions swimming behind your eyes. You don't really want to fight him in this state, but you fucking will, if he tries anything.

- An engagement present, for you, Viper. - he rasps, licking his reddened lips in an obscene display, which doesn't repulse you quite as much as it should.

- I have nothing to give in return - your voice is stern, and your betrothed flashes you an evil grin.

Then, he presents you the tip of the knife, golden utensil hanging between his slender fingers, and you look up at him, not understanding what is expected of you. Placing one knee on the floor, Feyd Rautha lowers himself to your eye level, for the hundredth of times surprising you with the sheer grace in his movements.

- Kiss - he whispers, into the space between the both of you.

Your eyes fall to the knife, then, to him and you take a long, deep breath. Pride, your biggest flaw, takes a deadly hit, as the man twists the knife in his fingers, looking at you expectedly. You hate him, truly and deeply, and it must be showing on your face, because he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, as soon as your eyes meet.

Swallowing your pride, you keep his gaze, leaning towards the blade. Your lips press delicately against the cool metal and the Harkonnen flashes you a nasty, self-satisfied smirk, before slipping the knife up his sleeve and standing up.

- I'll see you back at the feast - he gives you a small bow, and you press your lips tightly together.

- Fuck you.

- After the wedding, my Viper.

And with that, he turns around.

You're left there, on the floor, your dignity in shambles, the exertion catching up to you all at once, as if his presence alone was the only thing keeping you from feeling pain. A stupid thought, you chastize yourself, before slowly pulling yourself from the cold tiles.

It takes you a couple of shameful minutes, trying to put yourself back together again. The ridiculous headdress, which has slipped all the way down from your hair, will probably never look the same, as when your Mother has styled it, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

The music still plays, as you enter the hall, and thankfully, no one notices your arrival. No one but your betrothed, who raises his drinking cup in your direction, as if nothing had happened. His face is annoying, you conclude, and turn away, your aching legs taking you towards the center of the room, where people danced and sang in celebration of your engagement. What a lovely sight, what a lovely couple. Opposites attract, right?

Bitter, aching and humiliated, you throw yourself into the crowd, let it sway you from place to place, as you dance away this whole wretched week. The whole month-long courting rituals, which were just a bullshit attempt at torture.

It's said, that when Death comes to take your soul, you're allowed one more dance before the eternal void.

So you dance.

#my writing #dune part 2 #dune x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #tennis ball strikes again #i would also like to thank tiktok editing community for giving me material to daydream about #im seeing this movie again on thursday totally not because i want to write the most accurate smut in the next chapter

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slashbitch2 · 2 months ago

Text

scream!

Summary: when murder comes to Westview in the form of a masked killer, you begin to doubt whether you can trust those closest to you...

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Implied Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader, Hinted Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

TW: rather mild smut, dubious consent, blood, violence, injury, death, homophobia, murder... basically the whole plot of the first scream film so if you can survive that im sure you will be fine lol, also spoilers for scream (1996)

W.C: 19.0k words

The words on the screen had already started to blur. Black words on a white screen merged into a sort of greyish mess. Your eyes longed to close, your hands itching to shut down the computer for the night, but onwards you pressed, fingers feverously darting across the keyboard. Everything else in your bedroom was still, lulled into peace by early moonlight seeping through an open window. A quick glance at the time revealed it was already 10pm. You figured that soon you ought to give up and start getting ready for bed…

A thud sounded somewhere outside, your head whipping towards the open window- which no longer displayed the empty night sky, but a figure, hunched over and perched precariously on the windowsill.

An intruder.

Your heart stopped.

And then, the stranger flicked a wave of dark auburn hair out of their face, and your heart continued to beat an irregular pattern. Wanda Maximoff, your girlfriend, who was rubbing her head where she’d smacked it against the roof ledge.

“Jeez.” At this revelation, you shot up from your seat and walked over to the window, tugging it all the way open. “You scared the shit out of me, Wanda.”

She grinned at you, swinging her legs through the frame, hoisting herself inside. “I’m sorry. Don’t hate me. I just wanted to see you.” Her feet landed with a gentle thud, dragging mud onto your white carpet.

“It’s late.” You folded your arms and stared, unimpressed at her cocky expression. “If my dad catches you…”

“I’ll only stay a sec.” She reassured though you were still hesitant. Noticing this, she opened her arms, beckoning you closer. “Come here. Please.”

You obliged and stepped forward, but kept your arms crossed as a physical barrier between you, maintaining the act that you were annoyed at Wanda. More than anything you were just concerned. She was already unpopular with your father, and if he caught her here, it’d surely spell the end of your relationship.

Wanda huffed, hooked a finger in the waistband of your sweatpants and dragged you towards her. You stumbled into her arms, feeling them wrap securely around your back as you reciprocated the embrace. She nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck which, as always, made you melt.

“I’ll make it up to you.” She whispered, the sensation of her warm breath against your skin sending goosebumps throughout your body.

“Oh yeah?” Something daring seeped into your tone as you pulled away to stare at her face, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “For scaring me? Or for the inevitable grounding I’m going to get when my dad discovers you visited?”

“That won’t happen.” She scoffed, nails digging into your waist. “I’ve already been here a couple minutes and he hasn’t come running.”

“Yet...” You shook your head. “But he’ll definitely know when he sees the mud you’ve tracked onto my carpet.”

You saw how her gaze flickered down to your lips and stayed there. “I can help clean it up.” She promised, with no real intention behind her words.

“Alright.” You scanned her face, noticing how blown out her pupils were, saw the slight red tint to her cheeks, watched closely as she licked her lips. You unconsciously leant forward, eyes closing, holding your breath to place a gentle kiss against her lips. Her grip on your waist tightened almost painfully as she immediately deepened the kiss, your mouth naturally parting to allow her entry.

You hummed, savouring the sweet taste of her, contrasting with the way she desperately pressed herself against you. As though she wanted the two of you to permanently merge, never to separate. Her obsession with you was intoxicating. You felt her tongue trace along your teeth, the kiss turning messy as Wanda pushed you back, step by step until your knees hit the edge of your bed.

She held onto you, slowing your fall against the soft mattress, her lips instantly returning to yours as she clambered on top of you. Your heart was no longer racing. It was pounding. But now wasn’t the time to let this go any further.

“Wanda...” You murmured, trying to break away.

She bit against your bottom lip, almost painfully. Her hands were all over you, brushing against the exposed skin of your stomach, up and underneath your shirt. As she began trying to get under your bra, you finally caught hold of her forearm, halting her advance.

“Wanda.” You repeated. Firmer, this time.

Seeing your serious expression, she sighed and sat up. A chill suffused across your body at the loss of contact, worsened by the flicker of annoyance that crossed her face. She was breathing heavily, jaw clenched as she took in your vulnerable position, the heat in her gaze increasing.

“See what you do to me.” She quirked an eyebrow, the corners of her lips quirking up.

You pushed yourself up, leaned against the headboard of your bed and appreciated her dishevelled state. “You know what my dad would do to you?” You reprimanded, reminding her of the reason for breaking it off.

“Fine.” She raised her hands in surrender, hopping off the bed. “I’m going… I’m going.”

You followed her to the window. “Very gentle-womanly of you.”

She placed her hands on the frame, lifting herself up and through.

“Hey.” You placed your hand over hers, stopping her before she disappeared back into the night. “Be safe, alright?” The drop below her wasn’t too far, but the lack of light made it look like some gaping black void ready to swallow her up.

“I will. Pietro’s waiting down the street. He’ll walk me home.”

“Good.” You nodded.

“And, about all…that.” She inclined her head towards the now ruffled bedsheets. “I’m not trying to rush you with any of that.”

You softened at her anxious apology and bent down to plant a chaste kiss against her cheek. “I know, it’s fine. I do want all of that, just… not now.” You shared a smile with her, then added, “but soon.”

“I know.” Wanda bit her lip, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

‘Soon’ came quicker than you would’ve thought. You slept soundly that night and found your alarm blaring at you to get up after what felt like barely ten minutes since you had closed your eyes. It took you a while to actually get up, not because you were reluctant to start the day, quite the opposite in fact. You lay there, wondering what the day would bring, dreaming of walking into school and being greeted by your girlfriend and friends.

You were the happiest you’d ever been since transferring there, and it wasn’t just because of Wanda. There was also Peter Parker, your film fanatic friend, Kate Bishop, who was dating Wanda’s twin brother Pietro, and Yelena Belova, who you would meet halfway on your walk to school every morning. Except for today…

You had waited as long as you could, but she never showed. It wasn’t uncommon for her to skip days, but usually, she called you the night before to inform you of her plans. At first, you were rather annoyed by her unannounced absence- but that annoyance was replaced by concern as soon as you arrived at school, seeing the six police cars, four news vans and a scattered crowd of onlookers stationed outside.

The sudden commotion surrounding your school left you confused and dazed, walking amongst the chaos trying desperately to gather any idea of what had happened here. You stopped in front of one of the reporters talking to a camera, your interest peaking as you recognised her. Pepper Potts. She was one of the local news presenters, infamous for often orchestrating her own version of dull stories to make headline.

“The small town of Westview, New Jersey was devastated last night when a young teenage girl was found brutally butchered in her own home.” Pepper’s expression was grave, her clothing abrasively colourful and ill-fitting for the unfolding story. “Authorities have yet to issue a statement, but our sources tell us that no arrest has been made yet.”

You felt suddenly and inexplicably hot with panic, yet frozen in place.

“The question on all of our minds: could this murderer strike again?”

Westview had never been subjected to such horrors before, the idea of a serial killer operating in your midst being previously unthinkable. Your mind flickered suddenly to Yelena and her sudden disappearance. The logical part of you refused to jump to conclusions but did nothing to stop anxiety from rising in the pit of your stomach.

A finger tapped against your shoulder, dragging you from your spiralling worries. You swivelled round to meet Kate’s warm brown eyes, which were unusually stormy and frantic. “Do you believe this shit?”

“What happened?” You asked instead, praying that Kate somehow already knew more than you.

And she did. “Oh god! You don’t know?” Her lips turned downwards as she scanned the scene thoughtfully. Fearfully. “Yelena was killed last night.”

“What.” You felt the ground drop out from beneath your feet, legs almost buckling under the sudden shock.

“And not just killed, Y/N. We’re talking slasher movie killed- split open end to end.”

“Alright.” You waved off her overly descriptive explanation, pinching the bridge of your nose and taking a deep breath. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. There was no way Yelena was dead. She was just at home, lazing in bed because she hadn’t done her English assignment.

You thought of her messy, blonde hair, her sharp hazel eyes. Thought of her untidy bedroom floor you had spent so many sleepovers on, her parents always so welcoming. You thought of the stray dog she had been feeding for the last couple of years. Who would look after him now?

“God.” You clutched at your stomach, tried not to heave at the realisation that this was real. Someone wanted Yelena dead and had succeeded.

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” Kate placed a gentle, comforting hand on your back then swiftly removed it. “I didn’t think… I forgot you guys were… friends.”

“It’s fine.” You shook off the concern, forcibly standing up straight and glancing around. “I’m guessing the police will probably want to talk to me.”

“Yeah… probably.” Kate agreed feebly. “They’ve been rounding up friends of Yelena on the way in for interviews.”

The sickness settled in your chest. One you would have to learn to live with, to allow to stew into anger. “Do they have any idea who did this?”

“No. Peter said his uncle is on the case, and that it’s the worst crime he’s ever seen.” You looked back at Kate’s face, deeply pained. “It’s bad. They’re bringing in the feds. This is big.”

“Shit.” You said, at a loss for words.

“Shit indeed.” Kate agreed.

As predicted, you were instantly called into questioning in the principal’s office. It was intimidating to walk in and see a room full of cops with the headmaster, Nicky Fury sitting calmly at his desk. The man always looked extremely serious, but today was something else entirely. The frown he wore seemed engraved into his face like it was carved out of solid stone.

“Miss Y/L/N.” He gestured to the chair opposite. “Please, have a seat.”

Reluctantly, you sat down, then noticed the officer stood to Fury’s left: Tony Stark. He was Peter Parker’s uncle, and as such, the least menacing figure in the room.

“Hey Tony.” You greeted out of habit, wringing your hands in your lap.

“It’s Deputy Stark today, kid.” He corrected, crossing his arms.

“Sorry.” You muttered, glancing around the room at all the unfamiliar faces, feeling worse and worse. Although there was no spotlight shining in your face, it felt no less like a persecution.

Nonetheless, you answered all their questions to the best of your knowledge, trying your hardest not to imagine poor Yelena, left lying face down in a pool of her own blood. She had never been the type to be squeamish or frightened, and right now, you wished you had just a fraction of her courage…

By the time your interrogation- or interview, as they had been referring to it- was over, the lunch bell had just rung. You slung your backpack over your shoulder and headed to the courtyard where you normally ate lunch, though you had no appetite today. With every question the officers had asked, every gentle, probing ‘are you alright’ you had grown more and more sick. You looked a mess. Pale. Unfocused. Very seriously considering calling your dad to come pick you up…

“Hey!” A familiar voice broke through the general ruckus of the courtyard. “Y/N, over here.” It was Pietro, waving you over, his other arm slung over Kate’s shoulder possessively. As per usual, Pietro seemed his usual obnoxious self, totally unbothered by everything that was happening. Kate smiled at you pitifully, while Wanda, sat to her left, eyed you up with a wariness as you approached.

It was Peter, always the fifth wheel, who budged over to make room for you. You forced a thankful smile at him, muttered a brief hello to everyone else, and sat as close to Wanda as possible. She appeared to snap back into reality, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you closer, playing the role of concerned girlfriend perfectly. You sunk into her embrace, relaxed at the familiar smell of her shampoo and perfume, soaked up the warmth from her body and closed your eyes.

Temporarily, the nauseating sensation faded.

“Hunt? Why would they ask if you like to hunt?” Kate frowned at Pietro, and whatever tale he had been spinning while you hadn’t been paying attention.

Your eyes fluttered open as you picked up on the middle of their conversation. Wanda leant into your ear to whisper, “Pietro was called into interrogation too. He sits next to her in English.”

“Probably because her body was gutted.” He scoffed.

You flinched, despite having already accepted that Yelena’s murder would be the only topic of conversation for the following couple of months.

“Wow, thanks for that Piet.” Kate scolded, ever aware of your reaction.

“They didn’t ask me if I like to hunt.” Peter chimed in, to which everyone looked at him, confused. “They questioned me too. Not sure why. I saw her in the library sometimes, but that was it.”

“They didn’t ask you because… well- look at you!” Pietro snorted, gesturing at Peter who, admittedly did not look capable of murder. He was well-built, but often had a pair of glasses perched upon his nose, and a pathetic attempt at growing facial hair paired with hand-me-down sweaters in all weather, hot or cold.

“Yeah, Yelena was completely hollowed out. Takes a man to do something like that.” Wanda added, while softly stroking a thumb along your arm, as if that made it all better.

“Or a man’s mentality.” You commented, finding that if you thought about the whole situation as being purely theoretical, it wasn’t too bad. “How do you gut someone?” You said, more to yourself than aloud.

There was a beat of surprised silence.

“Well, you just take a knife,” Pietro grabbed a pencil from his pocket, held it out as though it were a weapon, “and slit from the groin to the sternum.” He mimed slicing through the air, making a hissing sound.

You shivered down to your soul. Never had you expected Pietro to have such an unapologetically violent imagination. You almost hated him for it. A glance at Kate revealed the same expression of shock, not having expected such graphic insensitivity from her boyfriend.

“What?” Pietro exclaimed. “She asked.” He laughed, throwing the pencil down.

“You couldn’t have been a little more sensitive?” Wanda chastised; a barely suppressed rage hidden in her tone. “Someone died last night, and you’re acting like it had nothing to do with us. Yelena was Y/N’s friend. She went to this school, attended our lessons, was our classmate. Be more tactful.” She spat.

You couldn’t help but swell with pride at Wanda’s outburst, and in the tense avoidance of eye contact that followed amongst the group, you quickly kissed her cheek in thanks.

“Sorry.” Pietro rubbed his forehead, bashfully avoiding anyone’s gaze except for his sister’s. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He threw his hands up in mock surrender, and for a blessed second, you thought it was all over. And then, he turned to you with an exaggerated curiosity. “Weren’t you and Yelena more than friends at one point?”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. It had been a long, long time since than rumour had circulated the school. Although, there was some truth behind it… You and Yelena had been friends since middle school, and there had been a few moments when you had considered perhaps pursuing a relationship with her. But every time you tried it, you both ended up concluding that you were better off just staying friends.

You felt Wanda tense beside you, snapping you back into reality. “Not really. We tried it ages ago. Didn’t work out...” You explained, trailing off towards the end. You hadn’t been with Wanda long enough for the topic to arise, but there was no way she didn’t know. The school wasn’t big, and gossip was traded amongst everyone, whether they be a loner outcast or stereotypical popular cheerleader.

“Ahh…” Pietro nodded slowly, feigning ignorance. “And you dumped her for my sister?

You gritted your teeth, hating how such an insignificant part of your past was suddenly in the limelight. “I didn’t dump her because we never really dated. And we’ve been nothing but friends for over two years now- or I guess were.”

“Come on, Pietro. Are you trying to insinuate Wanda is some revengeful, jealous girlfriend?” Peter joked, trying to lighten the tension that had fallen across your table.

Wanda laughed, though the humour didn’t spread beyond her lips.

“Actually, she was with me last night.” You placed a hand on her upper thigh, grasped at the muscle there and felt it flex. “Too busy being stupidly committed and climbing through my window to enact her revenge.”

“Yeah, exactly.” She fixed Pietro with a pointed stare. “Besides, like I said, it takes a man to do something like that.”

...

You got the bus home that day, unwilling to walk your usual route back from school alone while there was a possible killer on the loose. After all, if they’d gone for your friend Yelena, who’s to say they wouldn’t be targeting you next? As you stepped inside your house, shutting the door securely behind you, it dawned on you that you might not truly be safe even here. Nobody was. Not until they caught whoever had murdered Yelena.

Suddenly, you got the distinct feeling that you were being watched, as though the killer had eyes in the walls of your home. You shivered and called out for your dad- only to be met with silence. Panic began to rise in your chest, amplifying with every footstep that echoed through the empty house. The stuffy air became suffocating, the walls closing in around you as you searched each room. All the furniture lay dormant and undisturbed, awaiting someone’s arrival. Your heart was in your throat, your mind jumping to all the worst conclusions about where your father was.

By your second lap around the house, your eyes landed on a note pinned to the fridge. You stormed over, yanked the paper free from the magnet and with shaking hands scanned the page. It was from your father, a scribbled explanation that his brother in the next state over had fallen seriously ill and he needed to visit immediately. The note explained that he had tried to ring the school but got no answer, eventually giving up and having to leave without you.

The final line detailed that he had left a wad of cash for you to order food and fend for yourself for the foreseeable future, which you retrieved right away. You flipped the bills around in your hand, feeling the textured paper as if to ground yourself, to convince yourself this was real, not some fabricated trick by a murderer currently stalking you. After the day you’d had, anything could be possible.

But, oh god- your dad must not have known. He had left town at possibly the worst moment being none the wiser. And you were stuck here, genuinely unable to imagine any worse time to be home alone. Your hands itched to pick up the phone, to try dialling your uncle’s house, pray someone would pick up so you could demand your father return home as soon as physically possible. But that would be cruel, and so instead, you typed in Kate’s number.

Her mother answered after a couple seconds and made briefly awkward small talk before calling out to her daughter, who came running.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you alright? I was gonna call and check-“

“Yeah, yeah, Kate, I’m fine.” You interrupted. “But look, my dad’s had to leave for some family emergency and,“

“Oh shit, you’re alone?” Her voice quickly succumbed to worry, one which made you smile despite everything. You were lucky to have such a caring friend. “Do you want to come stay with us for a while?”

“Please.” You let out a sigh of relief. “That’s what I was calling about. I’m not sure how long my dad will be gone for but…”

“Yeah, of course it’s no worry.” She assured. “I’ll pick you up after archery practice?”

“Sure. When do you finish?”

“Six-thirty. So, I’ll be there by seven at the latest. I promise.”

A glance at the clock revealed it was only four. You swallowed back your paranoia, reasoning that you would spend most of the time packing anyway. “Ok great. Thanks. Are you sure your mom will be alright with it?”

“Of course. No one wants to be alone with everything that’s happened. She’ll understand.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you soon.”

“Later!”

The silence that engulfed your house after the phone call ended was oppressive, broken up only by small creaks and taps which made you jump out of your skin. To combat this, you grabbed your old, beat-up Walkman from your school bag, tugging the headphones over your head and grabbing enough cassettes to last several hours of constant music. Then, to fill the silence between each song, you flicked the TV on to whatever channel had been left playing.

Although muffled, you still heard the reporter, the one you had seen earlier today outside the school. Pepper…whatever her name was. You watched, partially interested whether you would make a cameo in the background.

“The state Bureau of Investigation has joined forces with local authorities to help catch what the Governor has called the most heinous crime ever committed in Westview.” Her teeth were an obnoxious gleaming white, her expression displaying an emotion not quite fit for the story she was currently presenting.

“The victim, seventeen-year-old Yelena Belova was found last night in her home…”

You tuned out to Pepper’s words as a picture filled the screen, a candid of Yelena, who somehow looked younger than you remembered. It hadn’t even been long since you had last seen her, yet the time that had passed felt like years. You wanted the snapshot to stay on screen forever, so you could commit every detail about her to memory. You couldn’t forget her. You refused.

Yelena stared at you from the TV screen as tears blurred your vision, the cassette flipping to an aptly melancholic song.

Then, as Pepper continued to drone on, the image flicked to a different one, this one of her official school picture. Despite everything, you burst out laughing at this, imagining how unhappy Yelena would’ve been to see this photo displayed on national television. She hated it. You didn’t blame her. The photo looked much too formal, an awkward contrast to the reality of who Yelena was. You wondered whether the news would report her life as it was, or if they’d spin the tale into something much more tragic: that she was a Straight-A student, destined for something great, her life so tragically cut short.

Probably.

With a roll of your eyes, you reached out for the TV remote, switching the channel until something fictional- or unrelated to Yelena came on, eventually settling on some old rerun of an TV show your dad liked to watch. The familiarity of it was enough that you could finally relax, pretending nothing out of the ordinary had occurred that day… It wasn’t long until your eyes fluttered close, your body sinking into the plush couch and to unconsciousness.

A shrill ringing jolted you awake, resonating round the still-empty house. You thought it’d been minutes since you fell asleep, but a quick glance at the clock showed the time to be 6 pm. Confused by the loud intrusion, your gaze snapped around the room, now darkened by dusk.

The last pinkish hue of sunlight highlighted the phone perched on the side table and answered your unspoken question. Launching across the cushions and throwing your hand out, you grasped onto the object and brought it to your ear.

“Hello?” Your voice was hoarse having just woken up, and a slight annoyance crept into your tone.

“Hello, Y/N.” A man’s voice answered. Deep, raspy and entirely unfamiliar.

“Hi…” You answered hesitantly, perturbed by the fact he already knew your name. “Who is this?”

“You tell me.”

You frowned, lips quirking up in polite amusement. “I have no idea.” As much as you racked your brain for the possible culprit, his voice was too distorted to properly place.

“Scary night, isn’t it? With the murders and all…” He said instead, abruptly changing the topic to one you were infinitely less fond of. “It’s like right out of a horror movie or something.”

“Aha,” you nodded to yourself, reaching a conclusion. “Peter, you gave yourself away. You’re such a nerd.” Able to relax, at last, you collapsed back down on the sofa.

“Do you like scary movies, Y/N?”

“I like that thing you’re doing with your voice, Peter.” You replied instead. “Very sexy.”

“What’s your favourite scary movie?”

“Don’t start.” You scoffed, growing increasingly irritated at his commitment to the act. “You know I think they’re all shit.”

“And why is that?”

You sighed down the phoneline, listening to the silence as he waited for a response and debating whether it was truly worth answering or just hanging up. “Because they’re all the same. It’s always some stupid killer stalking some innocent girl who can’t act- who always runs up the stairs when she should be going out the front door. They’re ridiculous.”

Finishing the rant, you took a deep breath and were met by more silence.

And then, “Are you alone in the house?”

“That is so unoriginal. You disappoint me, Peter.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m not Peter.”

“So who are you?” Hot anger flushed against your chest as you sat up straight. Something here wasn’t quite right…

“The question is not who I am…” He paused ominously. “The question is where am I?”

Your boiling anger was immediately flushed by cold fear.

“So where are you?”

There was a deep, mocking laugh which crackled into your ear like static.

“Your front porch.”

You leapt up from your seat, determined to expose the prank for what it was and put an end to the insensitive joke. Your heart was thundering in your chest as you moved to the window and pulled aside the drapes, muttering into the phone, “Why would you call me from my front porch?”

“That’s the original part.”

You tried to angle your view through the window, unable to see all of the porch. “Oh yeah?” The porch seemed to be empty. “Well, I call your bluff.”

Feeling more secure in your belief, you went to the front door, unlocking the bolt, unsnagging the chain and pulling it open. As expected, the outside porch was completely empty, lit by a single light shining overhead, with little beyond but darkness.

“So where are you really?” You challenged at the mysterious caller’s silence.

“Right here.” He growled.

You peered closer into the darkness, into the thick shrubs growing on either side of the house and still seeing nothing. “Can you see me right now?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What am I doing?” You stuck your middle finger into the air, waving it about in the air for a few seconds.

There was no answer.

“Good try, Peter.” You shook your head incredulously. “Bye now.”

“If you hang up, you’ll die just like Yelena.” The voice spat before you could pull the phone away from your ear.

You stopped dead in your tracks at his sudden seriousness, rendered speechless that Peter would say such a thing. Or perhaps, it really wasn’t him, which could only mean…

“Do you want to die, Y/N? Yelena certainly didn’t. She begged and cried, crawled across her carpet like the pathetic, insipid little…”

“Fuck you!” You interrupted, hands shaking and voice wavering. You hung up, stepped back inside the house and locked the door again.

Behind you, the hall closet door slammed open. You jumped, turning round in time to see a figure clad in black charging at you, ramming into your side. The phone flew out of your hand as you crashed to the ground, pinned down by the intruder wearing a distorted, white, ghostly mask. The type you had seen so many times, sold cheaply in costume stores and Halloween displays. Yet now, it actually was terrifying.

Your instincts finally surfaced as you kicked your foot into his leg, causing him to topple over. Wasting no time, you leapt to your feet and slammed into the front door, hands scrambling to unlock it again. Before you could escape, the figure rose, knife in hand, and grabbed onto your torso to drag you back. With survival mode having taken over, you were able to fight back with all of your strength, pulling, jerking and twisting to break free. You managed to free yourself from his grip, pushing the figure off you and sending him reeling into the living room.

Feeling fear tightening its hold on you, and seeing the futility of your escape, you made the daring move to turn and sprint up the stairs. The figure was hot on your heels as your heart pounded loudly in your ears. You reached the landing just as he lunged at you, grabbing a hold of your foot to slow you down. Panicking, you desperately grasped around you, nails scraping against the walls until they landed on a framed painting. Without sparing a glance at the image, you ripped it from the wall in a surge of might, swinging it behind you to smash against the figure’s skull.

You watched, wide-eyed as he staggered backwards, clutching at his head and tumbling down the stairs. Not wanting to waste the moment of respite you had bought for yourself; you raced into your bedroom and locked the door. There were a horrid couple of seconds of stillness throughout the house, broken only by your heavy breathing- and then, the banging began. A fist pounded against wood, and rattled the doorknob, as you frantically scanned your room.

You had left the phone downstairs and opted instead to dash over to the computer, fingers darting across the keyboard in a panicked frenzy. You spared a glance back at the door, seeing the figure had begun splintering the frame with his knife. Then, you turned back to the computer and hit send on a FAX message to 911 for help. As the blade continued its assault, cracking wood and sending splinters flying throughout your room, you typed even faster, trying to stay calm as you waited and watched a response appear on the screen.

STAY CALM. POLICE ENROUTE.

You let out a breath of slight relief, the message offering a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos… Only then, you realised that the figure had stopped. No more shards of wood were flying through the air, no blurred silver of the knife swinging around. You were alone now, accompanied by a haunting silence that had descended upon your home.

Suddenly, a noise at the window frame. You swivelled around, prepared to fight once more only to be met by Wanda, staring at you with surprise palpable in her expression.

“Oh, Wanda.” A sob racked your body as you shook uncontrollably, the reality of the situation finally dawning on you. “Please…God.” You brought a hand to your face, then flung it down, anxiously shifting your weight about as adrenaline kept you on your toes.

“I heard screaming, and the door was locked. Are you okay?” Wanda’s warm brown eyes flickered over your tense form, tears streaming endlessly and blurring your vision.

“He’s here. Trying to kill me…” You managed out.

Wanda’s face turned shocked as she pulled herself through the window with more urgency. As she did, a small black object fell from the back pocket of her jeans, landing against the carpet with a soft thud and drawing your attention downwards. Sat inconspicuously between the two of you was a sleek, compact cell phone. Any other day and it wouldn’t have made you concerned in the slightest… but now….

You stopped dead in your tracks, an icy sickness rising in your throat, something akin to distrust. You met Wanda’s gaze, which no longer held the comfort you sought.

Could it possibly be…? Had Wanda just tried to kill you?

Unwilling to face that possibility, you bolted.

You ignored Wanda calling after you, rushing to unlock the fractured bedroom door and tearing down the stairs, nearly slipping on the linoleum floor as you caught sight of the front door. Freedom. You skidded to a halt, ripped the chain off the door and urgently tugged it open.

“Y/N, wait!” Footsteps rapidly descended the stairs behind you as you dashed onto the front porch and were instantly blinded by flashes of blue and red.

Police cars screeched to a halt outside the house, their sirens blaring in the lonely night air. You paused, relief flooding your system at the first sign of safety. You were scared, lightheaded and dazed, but you were safe, at last.

“Y/N?” Wanda called out again, softer this time. Her voice betrayed a hint of disappointment, one you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back at. She was lingering in the doorway, red and blue lights exposing the innocent shock on her face. Guilt suffused throughout your body, which made you long to crash into her arms and lose yourself to the comfort. But you couldn’t bring yourself to, your mind flickering back to the phone that had fallen out of her pocket, convicting her as a potential suspect.

But could she really be? Your girlfriend, a murderer?

You flinched as Wanda took a cautious step towards you. Her face fell at the involuntary movement, and you were thankful to hear the car doors slamming shut behind you, followed by an all too familiar voice demanding for Wanda to freeze.

Tony Stark appeared next to you, gun loaded and aimed straight ahead as he approached you both, assessing the scene. He paused, gaze flickering over Wanda with suspicion.

“Y/L/N, what’s going on here?” He asked sternly.

Your eyes swept over Wanda, considering whether you were truly willing to hand her over so easily.

“I’m not sure.” You answered instead, your voice hoarse, but carrying an undeniable certainty.

“Please, baby.” Wanda implored you, the nickname sending a chill across your skin. Whether it was pleasant or not, you weren’t sure. “You know I would never.” Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head.

And you wanted to believe her, you really did.

But you couldn’t.

“I don’t know anything, Wanda. Not right now.”

...

The front yard of your house soon became a whirlwind of activity. You observed the scene disinterestedly from a distance, sat in the back of an ambulance following a check-up from the first responders. Apart from a couple of bruises and a cut on your arm, you had escaped unscathed from the attack and were told to consider yourself lucky. But you didn’t. You remained in a state of shock, as barely ten minutes ago, you had watched the cops handcuff your girlfriend and throw her into the back of a squad car.

It was hardly a lucky outcome.

At the present moment, she was their only suspect, and so you had let them take her, uncertain of anything except for a need for safety. To have someone answer for the attack, locked away so you could live and forget. Though the guilt stopped you from being able to do so.

Numbly, you watched as Tony and the sheriff, whose name you had yet to learn, started heading your way. They both had an awkward expression of pity, which was a rare sight on Tony Stark’s face and made you feel somehow worse. The sheriff stopped a couple of feet away, his pitying gaze never leaving you as Tony slumped down beside you.

“We’re seeing a lot of you today.” He patted your back reassuringly, though the gesture made you nauseous. “You gonna be able to come down to the station and talk to us in a bit?”

You tried to smile but failed. “Yeah…”

In the distance, a flash of purple caught your attention, weaving in and out of the maze of police cars and officers.

“Y/N?” Kate appeared, barrelling past an officer and jogging over to the ambulance. “What happened? Oh god…” She covered her mouth with her hand as she stared at the chaos currently surrounding your home.

“Sorry, you can’t be here,” The sheriff grasped onto her arm, prepared to drag her out. “This is an official crime scene.”

“It’s okay.” You quickly interrupted. “She was supposed to pick me up.”

“Yeah.” Kate’s eyes frantically darted between the intimidating figures. “Her dad’s out of town. She’s staying with me.”

Both officers looked questioningly over at you.

“I didn’t want to be home alone.”

“Well, I can see why.” Tony agreed after a beat of silence, then stood up to allow Kate to sit down next to you.

“Are you alright?” She asked, ignoring the obvious curiosity in her expression in lieu of checking you were okay first. It made your heart swell momentarily with a fondness for your friend, more concerned by your current state than the events that had just transpired.

You opened your mouth to respond, though never got the chance to as another set of vans arrived outside the house. They skidded to a halt with the same urgency as the first responders had, though with no markings indicating such on the side.

Tony sighed, staring at the vehicles disapprovingly. “Here come the vultures.”

Right on cue, the door to the van slid open and a figure clad in a red suit hopped down onto the road. She stood out from the rest of the onlookers, gazing round at the scene with a barely hidden interest, her vibrant clothing abrasive and eye-catching. The unmistakable colour of blood. Her face fell upon you at the opposite end of the yard, and you recognised her as the infamous Pepper Potts.

“Alright, let’s get you out of here.” Tony offered out his arm.

You hauled yourself up as Kate positioned herself beside you, shielding you from the oncoming media frenzy. You kept your head down as you drew closer to the reporter, praying she didn’t notice you walk past.

“Jesus! The camera, Happy- hurry!” She clicked her fingers at the cameraman, then you heard heels clicking as she jogged to catch up with you. “Excuse me!” She yelled out, almost elbowing Tony out of the way. You were exposed, seeing Pepper’s pearly whites, a microphone clutched in her hand and a camera following closely to be shoved in your face.

“There are no statements to be made at this current moment.” Tony recovered, raising a hand over the lens of the camera. “Maybe get a life, stop stalking and come back at the appropriate-“

“Hi, Miss Y/L/N, right?” Her gaze softened momentarily as she ignored Tony.

You halted, perturbed by the fact she already knew your name.

“Some night.” She exclaimed when you didn’t speak. Pepper glanced back at the camera dramatically, then feigned concern. “Are you alright?”

You knew she was only asking to get a verbal response for the camera. You were visibly shaking, your face pale and eyes wide. Quite clearly you were not okay, and reluctant to provide her with an answer.

“What happened?” Pepper prompted at your silence.

“She’s not answering any questions right now. Just leave us alone, okay?” Kate interrupted, putting herself between you and Pepper and fixing her with a frown.

“It’s fine.” You sighed, waving a hand nonchalantly, though you felt anything but. “She’s just doing her job.”

“Exactly.” Pepper smiled, seemingly taken aback. “Now what can you tell us about the event that transpired here?”

You shrugged. “I was attacked.”

“And do you have any idea who was behind the attack, or perhaps what instigated it?”

“Well, I got a phone call from some creep.” You grimaced, unwilling to share the full details. “But otherwise, I have no idea.” You smiled, hoping that would be the end of Pepper’s interrogation, and perhaps she’d leave you alone.

You were wrong.

“And could this be related to the recent death of Yelena Belova? I’d heard the two of you were close.”

You narrowed your eyes, unable to ignore the emphasis she put on the word ‘close.’

“Or maybe that’s not quite the correct phrasing.” She pursed her lips in mock thoughtfulness. “Together?”

You tensed, your face going taut at the suggestion, then forced yourself to relax. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with-“

“So, you were in a relationship with Miss Belova?” She interrupted once again, seeming to already have reached a conclusion without your input.

“No, never anything as serious as that…” Your voice was strained now, as you tried desperately to correct the assumption.

“An unrequited-“

“No!” It was your turn to intervene, hopefully putting an end to Pepper’s outlandish theories. “Nothing really happened, and it was so long ago-“

“Perhaps you resented Yelena for never wanting to be with you.” Pepper continued, spinning your words into a wild accusation. “Perhaps, it even drove you to murder- one you’re attempting to cover up now by faking an attack.”

“Faking?” Kate cut in incredulously.

“That’s bullshit.” You exclaimed, unable to suppress your slowly building rage. “And you know it.”

“Well, I’m just throwing ideas out,” she shrugged infuriatingly, then turned on Tony, “seeing as the police have yet to make any official statement or provide the concerned citizens of Westview with any reassurances.”

“We’re… working on it.” Tony stuttered out, caught off guard by the sudden criticism.

“Well, you better get working fast, officer.” She scoffed. “And it’s hard to ignore the relation between both attacks.” She looked back at the camera. “Having shared a brief, intimate relationship between two young adults of the same sex. Are these attacks politically motivated? Religious, perhaps? Maybe rather than focusing on the personal motive, the killer intends to send out a message of-“

“Fuck you.” You interrupted, clenching your jaw to keep you from saying anything worse.

Pepper looked at you in disbelief. “I think you ought to watch your language, young lady. Your moral character seems to have already drawn enough attention.”

In a blurred, unexpected instant, you brought your fist forward and smashed it hard into Pepper Pott’s face. The impact sent Pepper reeling backwards, knocking into Happy and his ridiculously expensive camera as they both tumbled to the pavement.

“Hey! Hey.” Tony outstretched his arm, physically blocking you. “That’s enough. I think it’s time we go.”

You took a deep, satisfied breath seeing the two piled on the ground, then allowed yourself to be tugged along and into the back of Tony’s squad car. You didn’t care if Pepper managed to spin the events and make you look bad, or if it worsened your reputation. It had been worth it to wipe the smug smile from her face.

...

“God, I loved it!” Kate laughed and threw herself back onto the bed. “Oh, Y/N, you need to be careful, your bad moral proclivities and your bad language will be the death of you!”

You perched on the other side of Kate’s bed, chuckling at her bad impression of Pepper.

“And then BAM! Bitch went down.” Kate thumped her fist into her palm and laughed some more.

“Talking of…” Tony appeared in the doorway, clutching a bag of ice. “I thought you might want some ice for that right hook.”

He tossed the bag of ice over, which you caught and placed over your reddening fist, wincing at the bruise already forming.

“I’ve got two officers stationed outside the house all night, so if anything happens, they’ll be here” He continued, clearly exhausted and ready to head home after the long night.

You nodded and thanked him. “Any word on reaching my dad?” You quickly asked before he disappeared. You had given the cops your uncle’s number, and despite the incessant number of times it’d been rung, they had received no answer so far.

“Afraid not, kid. But we’ll let you know when we do.”

“If you do…” You muttered bitterly. “Pretty shitty timing for my uncle to fall so seriously ill.”

“Or maybe it’s all related?” Kate chimed in, looking conspiratorially between the two of you. “Maybe the killer planned it all…”

You thought for a moment. “Nah. My uncle has heart problems, it’s probably to do with that.”

“Real great theory Kate.” Tony snarked. “Maybe you should try submitting it to Pepper Pott’s investigatory website.”

“She has a website?” You scoffed at the idea.

“Yeah.” Tony nodded slowly, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“And how do you know?” Kate smirked. “You a fan, Stark?”

“Well, it is my job to investigate.”

You and Kate shared a knowing look.

“And if that investigation happens to involve a ridiculously attractive, if slightly intense journalist, then so be it.” He shrugged, brazenly unashamed.

Suddenly, the phone stationed on the bedside table started ringing, sending a jolt of panic coursing through you. Its shrill sound echoed uncomfortably in the bedroom as Tony quirked an eyebrow, and Kate looked at the item as though it were going to bite should she answer the call.

You were all slightly paranoid, to say the least.

“I guess I should get that…” Kate gulped and reached an uncertain hand out to grasp the phone. “It’s probably just Peter… or someone.”

You instinctively knew that wasn’t the case. Peter would have an idea of what was happening as Tony was hardly discrete when talking to his nephew, and the only other person it could possibly be was Pietro… You shuddered at that possibility. That he might blame you for accusing Wanda. That he would be angry.

Kate took a breath. “Hello?”

You didn’t need to hear the person on the other end, Kate’s face was telling enough. Her eyes flickered over to you as she answered, “yeah, she’s right here.”

And then, the device was being handed over to you by your terrified-looking friend. Your brain screamed not to take it, rather pass it on to Tony, but your heart reasoned that if it truly was the killer, then Wanda’s name would be cleared, and that was something you couldn’t pass up. Besides, nobody would be able to identify the voice except you.

Your sweaty palm enclosed the phone and brought it slowly to your ear. “Who is this?” You forced out, sending a last-minute prayer that it might just be your dad, finally getting back in contact.

“Hello Y/N.” The same, raspy voice taunted.

Hot tears immediately welled up in your vision as the memory came rushing back anew. “No.” You murmured, covering your face as though to block out this horrid reality. The killer was committed, and somehow knew you would be here. It was a horrifying prospect.

But at least it wasn’t Wanda…

“Poor Wanda,” the anonymous voice sang out, “innocent and locked away in a prison cell for the night. You know this kind of thing goes on permanent records, right?”

“Hey!” Tony boomed out, conclusive in his decision as he stormed across the room and snatched the phone from you. “I’m afraid Miss Y/L/N has had to dash off, can I take a message?”

The clock in Kate’s room ticked away, marking five seconds of silence before Tony spoke again.

“Or maybe leave an email. Hotmails really taking off these days, it’ll save money on your phone bill.”

You heard the telltale buzz as the line went dead, prompting Tony to slam the phone back down and mutter “damn.”

A cold sense of dread settled over the room, like the killer was somehow watching you now, ever present, ever aware of your whereabouts. But it simply wasn’t possible… The only people who knew you were here were Kate, her mother, Tony, and the rest of the police force. Unless someone had simply guessed, meaning it had to be somebody close to you, who knew you well enough to anticipate your every move.

That prospect was no less concerning, and so you resigned yourself to trying to sleep that night without sparing a thought to the perilous situation you had found yourself in.

...

The atmosphere in school was like nothing you had ever seen before. The corridors seemed narrower, constricting all around you, the students inhabiting them more rowdy than usual. Classes dragged on longer than necessary, and you were unable to focus on what the teachers were droning on about. You were paranoid, too preoccupied by the knowing glances constantly being thrown back at you to care about anything else. The likelihood that the killer was someone you knew kept replaying in your mind, suspicion lacing every interaction with your friends and peers at school. Hell, even the teachers.

And the worst part was that you kept seeing that damned mask everywhere.

To the people who had no connection to you or Yelena, this was the most exciting thing to happen in Westview in their lifetime, and they certainly weren’t going to miss out on the festivities that some were partaking in. As you walked between classes, figures in the same cheap, ghostly Halloween mask sprinted up and down the corridors, chasing one another and reenacting what for you was fresh trauma.

“This is a mistake. I shouldn’t be here.” You confessed to Kate after witnessing the third Ghost-faced imposter.

She frowned, equally as perturbed by the way the school reacted to such disturbing events. “I want you to meet me here right after class, okay?” She demanded, unwilling to separate seeing the state you were in.

You nodded and smiled, then went to reassure her you would be fine, but something more important caught your attention.

“Shit, what is she doing here?” Kate exclaimed softly.

You were both transfixed, helplessly watching as the Maximoff twins were making their way over to you. Wanda looked tired, that much was clear. You hadn’t given any previous thought to the fact she would likely be released following the phone call to you last night, let alone expect her to make an appearance in school- probably only to see you.

In contrast to Wanda’s exhaustion, Pietro looked angry, and you prayed that anger wasn’t directed at you, though you wouldn’t blame him if it was. Noticing this, Kate went ahead to grab onto Pietro’s shoulders and try slow the warpath he was on. While he was momentarily distracted, Wanda came to a stop in front of you, her eyes cautiously seeking out your own. It was strange to see her after everything that had occurred, made more surreal by the fact that it was in such a mundane setting.

“Hey Y/N. Can we talk a sec?” She spoke so fast, but softly, as though afraid she was about to be dragged away once again.

You couldn’t hold the eye contact and flickered back to Kate in a silent cry for help.

“You know, if I were accused of carving up someone and attacking my girlfriend, I’d take the opportunity to skip school.” She called to Wanda warily.

“Hey, go easy, Kate.” Pietro interrupted. “She didn’t do it.” You could practically see him gritting his teeth together in an attempt to stop himself from saying worse.

You paid them no mind, summoning the resolve to turn back to your girlfriend. “Fine, five minutes.” Glancing around at the several unfamiliar pairs of eyes watching interestedly, you added, “Girl’s bathroom, now.”

Clutching your textbooks to your chest, you marched through the hallways with Wanda in tow. She didn’t say a word until you had shut the door behind you and checked every stall, confirming that the bathroom was actually empty.

“You… don’t think it was me, right?” Wanda maintained a distance from you, nervously wringing her hands.

You took a deep breath, reasoning that surely it couldn’t be. “No.”

Wanda nodded, managing out a tearful smile.

“I don’t think it was you… just… oh god.” You felt yourself begin to cry, reliving what you had felt at the time of the attack, and unable to find the words to explain. “Someone tried to kill me…” You sniffed, snatching a wad of toilet paper from one of the toilet stalls to dry your face.

“I know, the police say I scared him off.” Wanda looked at you, so unconditionally in love with you that it made your chest ache. “It wasn’t me, Y/N.”

“I know.” You repeated, firmer this time. “The killer called me again last night at Kate’s house.”

“See, it couldn’t have been me. I was in jail, remember?” Wanda reminded, her caring façade temporarily dropping in lieu of proving her innocence. “But shit, how did he know you would be there?” She asked quickly.

“I don’t know.” You bit down on your lip, shaking your head. “But I’m sorry, for accusing you. I wasn’t in my right mind…”

“It’s fine, baby.” Wanda tentatively closed the space between you, wrapping her arms loosely around your shaking form. She pulled you in, resting your chin on her shoulder. “I would’ve done the same.”

Her lips pressed gently against your neck, then enclosed around the skin and sucked lightly. Her grip around your body suddenly tightened, the touch turning from sweet to lustful so fast it made your head spin. She trailed her mouth further up, leaving your skin damp against the cold air and making you shiver. The usual heat that accompanied her contact was nowhere to be found, and it abruptly dawned upon you that this was wrong.

“Wanda.” You murmured in an attempt to reprimand her.

Taking it as a moan, she continued on, her touch growing tighter, almost painfully.

“Wan-“ You pushed against her, only to find she wouldn’t budge. “Wanda, stop!” You felt claustrophobic in her arms and shoved her suddenly backwards.

She stumbled away, looking at you with a mix of hurt and shock.

“You still don’t trust me?” She could hardly contain the frustration in her voice, emphasised by her heavy breathing and burning glare.

“No, that’s not true.”

“Then what is it?” She spat. “You don’t want to be around me. Is there somebody else?”

“No!”

“You’re missing Yelena?”

“Yes- but as a friend!” You argued, desperate for a chance to speak, to explain yourself. “I just, I don’t want that right now.” You flailed your hands around, hoping she got the message in spite of your ineloquent explanation.

“I’m being too pushy.” She wasn’t as angry now but still had disappointment palpable in her expression.

“No, it’s just- it’s me, Wanda.” You sighed. “I need time, and considering everything that’s just happened, I think that’s more than reasonable.”

“It is. You’re right” Wanda exhaled and turned away from you. “I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

Despite everything, you still hated seeing her like this, and reached out to grab hold of her hands. “And I’m sorry for thinking you were the killer. I regretted it as soon as I said it.”

Wanda nodded slowly, staring down at your intertwined hands. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the bathroom door slamming open. You quickly broke apart, and she looked up at you, slightly sadly, before muttering, “See you soon, Y/N.”

And with that, Wanda was gone, leaving you reeling in your thoughts with tear tracks still fresh on your cheeks. You opted to sit in one of the stalls and regain your composure before heading to your next class, listening numbly to the sound of people coming and going from the bathroom for the next ten or so minutes. Screw being late.

You were just about to finally leave when two new voices entered the room, both vaguely familiar but not enough for you to make your presence known.

“What if she did it?” You heard one say, voice ever so recognisable. “What if Y/N killed Yelena?”

“And why would she do that?” A second asked, exasperated but curious.

“Don’t you remember they used to be a thing? Maybe Yelena ended it and Y/N never got over the rejection.”

“But she’s with that weird girl now- right? Pietro’s brother.”

You frowned to yourself. You knew Pietro was much more popular than his sister, but the school’s general distaste towards Wanda had always upset you.

“So why would Yelena matter anymore?” The girl continued.

“Because Yelena was cool, and fun, and Y/N knew that being with her was probably the peak of her life. Waldo- or whatever she’s called- is such a downgrade.”

The other voice laughed cruelly. “That’s true. I think I’d kill myself.”

“Exactly, but teen suicide is out this year and homicide is a much healthier therapeutic expression, hence, Y/N killed Yelena.” She punctuated the last few words with a manicured nail tapping against the porcelain sink.

The reverberating click made you shiver uncomfortably, listening to their dumb theories and trying your best not to take it personally. But- that voice, it had finally clicked into place: it was Agatha. She was notoriously a wild gossip, still, you never knew she had it out for you like this.

“God maybe you’re right.”

You heard their footsteps head over towards the exit, their annoying voices diminishing as the door slammed shut. You were left in silence, marked only by water dripping somewhere from a leaky pipe, and the sound of wind whistling from the cracked transom above the door. It almost sounded like a whisper, luring you out of the safety of the locked stall.

Catching sight of your reflection in the mirror, you recognised evident tear streaks down your cheeks, accompanied by a general expression of annoyance. The whole situation, and the way your school had turned it into a joke, left you alternating constantly between resentment and anxiety. But there was no time to dwell on it, as you heard that dreadful whisper again…

“Y/N…” The word struck you like a nail through the eye. A stark confirmation that someone else was in here with you. But all the stalls appeared to be empty.

You could only hear the sound of your own rapid breathing, that same rhythmic drip and the haunting whistle of the wind, leaving you to wonder whether your brain was simply playing tricks on you in this tense state.

There was a long, morose pause, and then, “It’s me, Y/N.”

“Fuck no.” Terror flooded your face as you spun on your heel, noting that to get to the exit, you would have to walk past the row of stalls. You took a reluctant step forward, ducking under the stall to see nothing, then the next, and the next, until finally, the last stall. It was empty at first, and you considered that maybe you were really just going crazy.

But then, two feet stepped down from the toilet onto the floor in the final stall. You were paralysed, face drawn tight as the door began to creak open, revealing Ghostface clutching the same knife as before.

You swivelled on your feet, crashing through the door but feeling a hand grip onto your shoulder and tug you back. Bracing yourself for the eventual feeling of a knife digging into your back, you ducked out of the grip and barrelled straight back into him, sending you both crashing to the slippery bathroom floor. You were able to launch yourself up before the attacker, and launched yourself through the exit before he could grab hold of you.

Without looking back, you sprinted through the hallway, ignoring the questioning look of a teacher you passed and heading straight for the principal’s office. You knew that only the top authority would be able to help you out. Nick Fury was perhaps the most intimidating teacher you had ever known, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he were to track down and kill Ghostface himself.

You burst through the door to his office, being met by two students holding ghost masks in the middle of a berating.

“He’s here… I saw him.” You sobbed out, hysterical but unashamed of your reaction. “He’s here…”

Fury rushed towards you, placing a comforting hand on either shoulder to ground you. “Where? What happened?”

You gulped back a sob, attempting to form some comprehendible recount of the events. But you couldn’t bring yourself to. All that replayed in your mind was the realisation that this was your new reality. There was someone after you, who clearly wouldn’t stop until you were dead.

Fury gave up on getting any coherent answer from you and called the cops, who arrived promptly having been stationed outside. They searched the girl’s toilets and found no evidence of any attacker lurking there, but assured you full protection from now on, starting with Tony Stark escorting both you and Kate home immediately. She was pulled from class, and you were told to wait outside while they finished one last sweep of the building.

Sitting next to Kate on a bench, you were finally able to catch your breath, and took the opportunity to briefly explain to Kate what had happened, refusing to dwell on your conversation with Wanda, or the rather unpleasant end of it.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one listening.

“Attacked, again?” Pepper revealed herself from inside an inconspicuous-looking van, clearly having been waiting and watching for something to happen.

“You were spying on us?” Kate exclaimed incredulously. “Surely that’s against the law…”

“No, just good journalism.”

“Hey, hey!” Tony arrived at the perfect moment, clicking his fingers at Pepper. “You, you’re not supposed to be here.” As much as you trusted Tony for protection, you could see how his eyes trailed over Pepper distractedly.

“For a police officer, you don’t have the best focus,” Pepper smirked, seeing his wandering gaze.

You rolled your eyes at the interaction, feeling a flush of anger towards Tony.

��Well, I’d say it’s because you’re much prettier in person.” He replied, ever the flirt.

Pepper was about to respond, but never got the chance to. There was a sudden crackle in the air, signifying the PA system had sparked to life.

Nick Fury’s sombre tone filled the air, as you all stopped to listen. “Your attention, please. Due to the recent events that have occurred and until it comes to a resolve, effective immediately, all classes are suspended till further notice.”

Despite being outside the building, you heard a schoolwide cheer from inside, imagining the shared joy amongst everyone regardless of the dire circumstances.

“The Westview Police Department has also asked me to announce a city-wide curfew beginning at 6pn.” Fury finished, to which you heard a palpable boo from inside.

“Boy, you people sure do make a fuss over a serial killer.” Pepper sighed humorously.

“Technically, not a serial killer yet.” Tony folded his arms. “Gotta knock off a couple more to get that title, so he’s just a plain old murderer.”

“For now-“ You snarked, feeling your patience draining away from you.

The bell rang out, ending school for the foreseeable future, proceeded by the stampede of footsteps as students rushed out of the building, celebrating their early release. You and Kate stood up, ready to go when you caught sight of Wanda and Pietro.

Unwilling to leave things as awkwardly as you had, you told Tony to wait for a minute and jogged over to her, with Kate following behind.

“Is this cool or what?” Pietro appeared enthused by the sudden closure of the school, slinging an arm around Kate’s shoulders as he always did.

“For once, Piet, drop it.” She chastised.

“Okay,” he rolled his eyes, “but whatever you did, the entire student body thanks you.” He said, nodding at you with an impish smile.

“What happened?” Wanda questioned, glancing between you and her brother. “Were you attacked again?”

“Yeah, right after you left.”

Her mouth fell agape, then shifted into a harsh line. “And you don’t think I did-“

“No!” You were quick to assure before her concern was fully voiced. “I don’t.”

“Well, to celebrate this impromptu fall break, and Y/N admitting my sister’s innocence, I propose a party tonight.”

“What?” Kate turned to her boyfriend, aghast by the suggestion.

“Tonight, our house.” He confirmed, winking at Wanda.

“Are you serious?” You laughed in disbelief at his uncaring attitude.

“Our parents are out of town. It’ll be like my hurricane bash last year.” He stated, trying his best to convince the two of you that this was a good idea. “Nothing extreme, just a few of us, hangin’.”

“I don’t know Piet.” Even Wanda looked unconvinced, though Kate seemed to be warming to the idea.

“I guess safety in numbers…” Kate turned to you, seeking approval. “What do you think, Y/N?”

In spite of everything happening, you agreed that you would be safer in a larger group of friends. The police had hardly been effective in stopping the attacks so far, and Tony’s presence did little to assuage your constant fear. Not to mention that you rather owed it to the Maximoff twins, having unfairly convicted them before considering all the facts.

With this realisation, you nodded timidly. “Yeah, sure… whatever.”

“Alright.” Pietro rubbed his hands together connivingly. “See you guys at 8 pm sharp. Bring food.”

Wanda smiled at you warmly for the first time since this whole situation had begun. It gave you hope, motivation to go through with this party tonight. You had missed the genuine happiness in her expression and would do anything to earn back her adoration, to make her forget any of your accusations and assumptions.

Still, as Kate linked her arm with yours and spoke continuously about the plans for tonight, you couldn’t help but feel that this was about to be a huge mistake…

...

As predicted, Tony was far from happy about the party organised that night, giving you a lecture on all the possible dangers as he drove you back to Kate’s. But you knew him and knew that he was way too concerned about his reputation to cancel the get-together. He dropped you home with one final warning, asked for the address just in case, and then left you for the evening. To your relief, officers were already stationed outside the Bishop household, though it would make sneaking away for the night a lot harder.

Still, Kate seemed undeterred, already applying makeup and straightening her hair by six.

“Are we seriously doing this?” You muttered, laying on the bed staring impassively up at the monotonous white ceiling.

“Yes, we are.” She affirmed. “Because, trust me, you’ll be safer surrounded by a load of drunk, pubescent boys. Hell, they’ll probably track down and kill Ghostface themselves.”

“And what if Ghostface is already there.” You sat bolt upright, the image of his infamous mask flipping to the forefront of your imagination.

“Well, we’ll see that obnoxious costume from a mile away.”

“Out of disguise, Kate.” You sighed, collapsing inwards on yourself. Anxiety was sweeping across your body, a cold breeze which rendered you paranoid and entirely unwilling to attend the party tonight.

“Then make sure you’re never by yourself.” She answered quickly, eager to soothe your worries. You could tell she was excited for the night, always one to stay at a party even after everyone else left. “I promise I won’t leave your side, even if Pietro wants to make-out or whatever.”

You grimaced at that image.

“And I bet Wanda won’t want to leave your side.” She added. “That girl is crazy about you, and probably willing to throw herself in front of the killer to save you.”

“Not after how I’ve treated her…” You murmured, recalling the hurt she seemed to be holding onto.

“Nobody can blame you for that, Y/N.” Kate abandoned her place in front of the mirror to sit beside you. “I would’ve done the same if it’d been me and Pietro.”

“But it’s not just that. I can’t relax around her.” You threw your hands up exasperatedly and exhaled, debating whether to bring the topic up or not. “Whenever she touches me, I freak out.”

There was a pause of silence, in which your words swallowed you into a pit of embarrassment, one you were about to retract.

“So what? You have a few intimacy issues, and all this murdering probably doesn’t help.” Kate shrugged. “No big deal. You’ll get there eventually. And Wanda will wait.”

“But she’s already been so patient with me, Kate.”

“Yeah, It’s Wanda. Your girlfriend. Probably the most caring, perfect person I can imagine for you to be with. And virginity intact or not, I’m sure she won’t let you get murdered.”

You snorted, submitting to Kate’s humour over your constant doubts. “You’re right.”

Three knocks against the door interrupted your conversation. You held your breath, inexplicably tense despite knowing that murderers were hardly the type to knock before entering a room.

“You guys decent in there?” The muffled yet unmistakable voice of Tony Stark called out.

“Yeah…” Kate answered as the handle twisted open. “Hey…” She greeted confusedly.

You frowned, equally unable to understand why Tony had returned…unless… “Have you guys heard anything from my dad?” You asked desperately.

Tony shook his head. “Afraid not, kid.”

You sunk back into the bed, any hopes of familial safety having been immediately squandered.

“But good news is you’ve got me as your personal bodyguard tonight.” He finished, folding his arms.

“What?” Both you and Kate echoed at the same moment.

“I took the evening shift stationed outside the house, so no need to sneak out, but” he held up a stern finger, “only on the condition that I go with.”

“No.” Kate screwed her face up. “You’ll ruin the whole night.”

“Firstly, offensive.” He pointed at Kate with a sneer. “Secondly, I’ll be staying outside the house unless there’s screams and such.”

“Fine, deal.” You waved off the list, indifferent about his attendance.

“Thirdly…” He continued. “Pepper is coming with.”

“What!”

“She’ll definitely ruin the night,” Kate repeated.

“No Pepper, no deal- and I tell the police about this little rendezvous planned for tonight.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s unfair” But seeing no compromise, glanced at Kate and saw the same muted displeasure. “But fine. Why does she even want to come?”

“Says it’s a journalistic hunch.” He shrugged, nonchalantly leaning against the doorway.

“And why do you want her there, Stark?” Kate sent a look your way, already well aware of why Tony would want the company.

“I thought a stakeout might be a good first date.” He answered in full honesty.

“It’s not.” You shook your head in disbelief at his antics. “Still, as long as you keep your business separate from ours, I see no issues here.”

“Alright.” His lips drew into a taut line. “Pleasure doing business with you both.”

...

The irony of showing up to an illegal, out-of-curfew house party in a cop car didn’t escape you. Nor did it make you feel any less uncomfortable. The Maximoff’s house was right on the edge of town, surrounded by nothing but empty fields as far as the eye could see. It was isolated, perfect for parties but likely terrible for your own safety. There were no streetlights to illuminate potential Ghostface killers, and with the sun setting in the distance, you doubted the orange hue that currently permeated the sky would stay.

The only other source of light came from inside the house itself, accompanied by a general ruckus and music blaring. You were late, and as such, a gathering of cars were already littered across the driveway, though you doubted their owners were intending on staying sober. At that moment, you decided that you would certainly not be getting a lift home with anyone besides Tony tonight. The celebratory atmosphere from school closing early still lingered in the air, meaning that tonight was probably going to get way out of hand. Especially if Pietro had anything to do with it.

Tony dropped you off with a word of warning, then pointed out where he and Pepper would be stationed for the night, further down the driveway and out of sight. You shuddered at the mention of Pepper’s name, or rather, the fact that she was your line of defence for the night.

As you and Kate approached the front door, which was left open for anyone to enter, the house loomed over you menacingly. Its shadow fell across your face, blocking out the last rays of sunset and encompassing you in artificial lighting. You rarely visited Wanda at home, finding her parents were often absent and your dad refusing to drive you over there. As such, your attention was instantly diverted upon stepping foot inside. Your vision traced up the staircase, wondering whether it would lead you to Wanda’s room- a place you had surprisingly never ventured to.

Resolving yourself to finding the room, you turned to inform Kate of your plans, only to see she had disappeared. Most of the activity was coming from the kitchen, where you guessed she was greeting people, entirely unaware that you had already slipped away.

Shrugging off the momentary irritation at her having broken her promise so soon, you went over to the staircase and began to climb upstairs. A couple of people were standing on the landing, engaged in a heated discussion away from the rest of the party. They didn’t even notice you slip past.

All the doors were shut, and all looked identical, though you remembered Wanda having mentioned that her room faced the fields behind the house. So, you went towards the door that matched her description, twisting open the handle slowly as to warn anyone inside of your arrival.

You guessed correctly, and were met by a bedroom littered with posters and pictures- some of you. The overhead light was off, leaving a string of fairy lights scattered across the walls to brighten an otherwise dingy room. The air was still and dusty. Previously undisturbed particles swirled about your like an ocean, parting only for you. A scented candle burned peacefully on the windowsill, the smell reminding you of your girlfriend. A sudden ache arose in your chest, encouraging you to leave the room and find her.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” A stern voice sounded from the doorway.

You jumped, your heart beating an irregular pace as you swivelled round to see Pietro. The light of the corridor filled the space around him, casting an ominous silhouette over the bedroom. His expression was angry- serious, and unmoving, so far from the Pietro that you knew and liked that it made you exceedingly uncomfortable.

“Sorry.” You stuttered out, taken aback by his newfound seriousness. “I was just leaving- looking for Wanda.”

“She’s just gone out to get more drinks.” His rigid features relaxed a modicum. “She’ll be back soon.”

You watched as he held the door open, ushering you out. More than willingly, you headed over, only stopping once the door had shut behind you as a sudden realisation struck. “But she can’t drive?”

Pietro paused for a second. “There’s a bus to town every half hour, the stop is at the end of the road.”

“She’s getting the bus alone at this hour?” Fear began to rise throughout you at the image of your girlfriend trapped with a bunch of strangers, and perhaps a murderer. “Also, there’s a curfew.”

Pietro scoffed, his signature smirk returning as he brushed you off. “You worry too much. She’ll be fine!”

You found yourself quickly irritated by his casual demeanour, and snapped, “You have a car, why didn’t you go?”

“Because I am the life of this party, and I’m still a learner driver.” He shook his head, turning away from you to make his way back downstairs.

“That hasn’t stopped you before.” You yelled after him, though it was too late.

Pietro skipped back downstairs, and you reluctantly followed.

“Hey, Y/N!” Peter squeezed through the doorway, stacks of VHS tapes balanced precariously between his arms. “How are you doing?” He asked eagerly.

You dashed forwards to grab onto some of his video tapes before the stack fell down. “I’m alright, all things considered…”

“Thanks- and yeah, I’m surprised you’re here.” He looked at you, concerned. “But I thought to try and keep things calm, we’d make it a Blockbuster night.” He explained, indicating to the VHS collection he had travelled with.

You glanced down at the top three he had passed to you, recognising all the titles as horror films. “You mean a Jamie Lee Curtis night? How come she’s in all these movies?”

Peter placed the tapes down, gaping at you. “Cause she’s the Scream Queen!”

You scoffed. “With that set of lungs, she should be a-“

“Y/N!” Kate dashed over to you. “Where did you go? One minute I turned around and you were there, the next-“

“Oh, don’t worry, I was just exploring the house.” You interrupted, putting a stop to her panic.

“Ok thank god.” She sighed. “For a second there I was worried you’d been Ghostface’d”

You tried to smile but struggled still to find the humour in all this. “Not yet.”

“Not ever.” She stated, then became distracted by Peter’s VHS collection. You watched Kate enthusiastically flip through the familiar titles and found yourself wondering whether she had ever seen the side of Pietro you had just been exposed to. You couldn’t imagine she would’ve stayed with him if she had…

Despite the unsteady start to the party, you allowed yourself to be enveloped by the mundane sort of satisfaction that came with these kinds of gatherings. You ended up wedged between Peter and Kate on a disturbingly discoloured sofa, with Pietro on the other side of Kate. Several times you noted him glancing towards you, though you chose to ignore it and focus on the movie Peter had selected instead.

More familiar faces started to settle throughout the living room to watch the film, all sharing piles of junk food, beer and a joint occasionally passed around. For the first time since everything had kicked off, you felt normal, safe, and enjoying the company of friends. However, the longing for Wanda’s presence never ceased, and your eyes constantly darted towards the foyer, awaiting her inevitable return.

An hour or so later you began to worry that Wanda had yet to return.

Seeing your discomfort, Pietro tapped Kate’s leg. “There’s a bottle of wine in the basement that my parents were saving for a special occasion, why not grab that so Y/N can finally relax.” He fixed you with a pointed stare. “I can feel her anxiety from here. It’s giving me Ghostface blue balls.”

“Fine.” Kate rolled her eyes and stood up. “I’ll be right back.” She gave you a shyly comforting smile, then disappeared as instructed.

Pietro spread out to fill the gap, letting out a cocky, relaxed sigh as he glanced at you, knowingly mocking your anxious demeanour. On the other side, you felt Peter tense, noticing he was observing with a disapproving frown plastered across his face. Despite his unthreatening, wholly innocent appearance, you trusted Peter more than you did Pietro, and as such, sidled closer towards him. You weren’t sure where this sudden distrust of Wanda’s brother came from, nor were you willing to dwell on it. Instead, you fixed your attention to the TV screen ahead, numbly watching to dull your racing thoughts.

Before you knew it, the credits had started rolling. As Peter stood up to pause the tape, you realised suddenly that the vast majority of those crowding the house had vanished. All general ruckus had ceased, the party having come to an end much quicker than you expected. Usually, Pietro would ensure the party lasted until some ungodly hour, yet to your surprise, he had remained seated next to you the entire time, silent except for his occasional comments on the film. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Wait.” You shot bolt upright abruptly, another concern springing to mind. “Where’s Kate?”

Pietro hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” He stood up, looming over you, then clapped his hands together as if something had only just occurred to him. “Sometimes the basement door gets stuck!” He exclaimed, then laughed manically. “She’s probably been stuck down here this whole time! I’ll go get her.” With that, he leapt over the sofa, thudding against the creaky wooden floor and jogging out of view.

With his exit, only you and Peter were left in the living room. He was crouched by the TV, returning the VHS tape to its rightful box, reorganising his collection.

“Peter.” Your voice shook, a reflection of the fear that currently filled your body. “Something’s not right here.”

He turned to you, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean.” You threw your hands up, exasperated at his nonchalance. “Why’s it so quiet? Pietro’s parties usually like this.”

Peter furrowed his face. “Well, I’d guess most people are worried about the curfew.” He turned back to his tapes, selecting another to put on. “Overbearing parents… no buses running… They probably wanted to get going before it got too late.”

“Yeah but…” You exhaled irritably, wrapping your arms around your form for protection. “It just doesn’t feel right here… Like where’s Kate? Where’s Wanda? She left to get drinks before I even got here, and still isn’t back.”

Peter eyed you up. “If you want to go, we can leave now?” He stood up, expression growing grave with concern. In the dim lighting, shadows fell menacingly across his face, his posture tall and stiff, his care morphing into indifference. Don’t trust him, your instincts screamed. Don’t trust anyone.

He must’ve seen your distrust, the hardness in his gaze melting slightly “Y/N…?

“Y/N!” A different voice called.

You swivelled to the left to see Wanda lingering in the doorway, eyes flickering between you and Peter.

“Is everything alright, baby?” She stepped towards you, a softness in her outstretched arms which you craved desperately.

“Yeah.” You took her hand, interlocking your warm palm with hers, cold from the evening chill. You gulped, sensing Peter still watching you closely, creepily. “Can we go up to your room? Please?”

She grinned. “Of course. Seems I’ve missed the party anyway.” She scrunched her nose at you, then tugged you forward and lead you towards the staircase.

You spared one final glance back at Peter, who stood alone and vulnerable in the open space, a mix of jealousy and fear palpable on his face.

...

You lingered awkwardly in the centre of Wanda’s room before deciding to perch on the bed, turning to face her. She leant back against the door, and you heard it click shut, sealing your fate.

“So…” She started, then trailed off. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a selfish shit this whole time and I’m-“

“No.” You waved her off, settling into the comfort of the bed. For the first time that evening, you finally felt at peace, unwilling to be reminded of anything that might stoke your paranoia. “I’m the one that’s been over-dramatic and self-absorbed with all this- just…” You shifted uncomfortably. “I just feel like we haven’t properly had time to talk since this all began.”

“And that’s totally okay.” She assured quickly, practically leaping across the room to sit down next to you. “I don’t blame you.” She took your hands from where you’d been wringing them in your lap, dragging them to rest on her thighs. “I could never blame you.” She admitted, quietly, green eyes gleaming fondly as she stared up at you through her lashes, the gesture pure despite the layer of smoky eyeshadow that encircled her gaze. “Because… I love you.”

You gasped involuntarily, stunned by the confession. Your lips parted to form the words she desired to hear back, yet never got a chance to speak as her mouth landed upon yours. The kiss was soft and hesitant, her hair brushing softly against your jaw as she shifted closer. To rectify the awkward angle, you parted momentarily, swinging yourself over her body to settle in her lap. Immediately, she resumed kissing you, nipping at your bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth, tongue soothing the pain then slipping further to brush against your own. You couldn’t help but moan.

In response, Wanda allowed herself to fall backwards against the bed as you settled on top, straddling her, feeling hands slip underneath your baggy jumper and towards the clasp of your bra. You pressed yourself against her harder, encouraging her fingers to twist urgently and unclasp the strap. Hurriedly, you backed away to shove it off, tugging your jumper overhead with it. Without warning, she grabbed hold of your waist and flipped you over, reversing your position. She quickly did the same, removing her top to reveal a smooth expanse of pale skin. You longed to kiss every freckle, and appreciate every mark, yet found yourself paralysed in admiration.

Wanda smirked, then lowered herself back down to continue kissing you. This time, she moved slower, sensually, flicking her tongue against your lower lip teasingly. Her hand resumed its path up your side, eventually reaching your breast. She palmed at your chest, and you arched into the touch, giving her the chance for her lips to reattach at your neck. Her lips wrapped around your pulse point and sucked, hard enough to leave a bruise, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Her other hand slid down your stomach, your muscles involuntarily flexing at the feeling of her nail tickling against your skin. Her hand wormed its way underneath your jeans, not bothering to unbutton them, and towards your pants, pushing them aside. You moaned; eyes fluttering shut as her finger dragged its way…

A crash sounded downstairs, followed by a scream of pain. Your eyes shot open, yet Wanda didn’t halt at the distraction.

“Wanda.” You murmured, catching her attention.

Her lips had moved to your chest, which you felt her hum against in response.

“Did you hear that?” You asked.

Another scream sounded from downstairs, this time a muffled cry for help.

“Wanda. Stop! Can’t you hear that?” You exclaimed, panic suffusing throughout you. There was no way she didn’t hear either call.

“Hear what?” She said, faux innocently without meeting your gaze, then continued to lather attention along your collarbone.

“You need to stop.” You repeated, firmer this time. “Something’s happening downstairs. Someone needs help.” You shoved flutily against her shoulders, quickly becoming irritated by her carelessness.

“I’m sure it’s Pietro pulling some stupid prank. Just relax.”

“No.” Irritation turned to anger which turned to bravery. “I want to check.”

Her fingers curled suddenly, a wave of pleasure shooting through your core. “But you’re so wet, baby. Let me take care of you first.” Her voice was lost in lust, which had all but drained from you.

“Not now.” You gritted your teeth, pushing her harshly to the side.

Wanda finally broke away to stare at you impassively. “Fine.” She snapped, reaching out for her top. “Go on then.” Coldly, she turned her back to you, leaving you to gather your clothes.

The abrupt change in atmosphere left you stunned. You knew Wanda would be disappointed, but this newfound coldness was extreme- like you were seeing a whole new side to your girlfriend. You stared silently at her back, taking in the tenseness to her shoulders, the upright, frigid posture. Part of you longed to reach out, to melt the frigidity with your own body heat, yet you felt as though you couldn’t. As though a physical barrier had formed between you.

Instead, you sighed and began to dress, eyes darting around the room, anywhere except at her.

Standing up and brushing the hair out of your face, your eyes came to rest on the telephone sitting on the nightstand. As mundane as the object was, it brought a stark revelation to your doubtful mind.

“Who did you call?” You murmured.

“What?” Wanda twitched slightly, still refusing to fully acknowledge you.

“When you were arrested- you’re allowed one phone call…” You elaborated. “Who did you call?”

Wanda paused, answering as she reached back to grab her top. “I called my dad.”

Your mind and pulse were racing, worsening the swirling mix of emotions inside of you. “But your parents are out of town?” You stepped forward, hand resting on the doorknob.

“Yeah… and when I called no one answered.” She explained briefly, finally turning to stare at you, something dark twisting her expression. “You don’t still think it was me, do you?”

“No.” You corrected quickly, beginning to turn the door open. “But if it was you, that would’ve been a pretty clever way to throw me off the track.” The door creaked open, light from the hallway flooding into the dingy room. “Using your one phone call to call me so I wouldn’t think it was you.”

Wanda exhaled dramatically, then rose to step closer to you. “What do I have to do to prove to you I’m not a killer?” She implored, close enough now that you felt her breath fan across your face. Your gaze darted over her features; the softness to her lips, the smooth red colouring of her cheeks, the way her chin quivered almost imperceptibly, a telltale sign that she was anxious. Yet, the usual warmth that you felt in her presence was lacking, replaced by unequivocal doubt.

Before you could answer her, the door suddenly flung back from your grip.

You fell into the corridor as a figure cloaked in black shot past you, a flash of silver hidden amongst the dark mass. You scrambled to sit up, watched helplessly as Wanda was pushed backwards, watched as a steel blade rose high into the air before striking downwards. Watched red crimson blood splatter across the room.

You took in a shuddering breath, forcing your legs into action. You stood tall, your fear numbed by the sight of Wanda’s lifeless body resting where you had sat but moments ago. A growing pool of red was soaking into the sheets, dripping down the edge and staining the carpet.

Slowly, reluctantly, you turned towards Ghostface. He was still now, proud of his work. And as he looked back to you, masked head twisting curiously, you felt sick with rage.

Without wasting another moment, you were off. A horrific sense of Deja vu clouded your every movement as you tore across the landing and down the stairs, not daring to spare a glance anywhere but onwards. Instinct led you through the house, round the corner and crashing against the front door, frantically trying to twist it open only to find it wouldn’t budge. It was locked. Someone had locked you in.

A beat of silence passed as you realised that Ghostface hadn’t followed you.

For a split second, the house was eerily quiet.

“Y/N!” Peter emerged from one of the doorways, bruised and bloody. One hand clutched at his stomach, the other braced against the wall for support. “Fuck. You’re alive. We’ve gotta’ get out of here.” He winced, edging closer towards you, a trail of blood smearing along the wall.

“Y/N!” Another voice called. Both you and Peter turned towards the source of the noise. “Don’t listen to him.” Pietro appeared, stumbling down the last few stairs, equally bloodied and panting from the exertion of dragging himself along. “He’s lying.” Pietro gulped, shaking his head, tears forming in his eyes. “He attacked me.”

“No!” Peter exclaimed. “It was the other way round. You have to believe me, Y/N. Please!” Peter looked to you desperately, taking a wobbly step forward.

“Stop!” You exclaimed, frightened by your own urgent tone. “Neither of you come any closer.”

Pietro whined, thudding back against the wall. “Where’s Wanda…?” He asked, voice pathetically desperate.

You swallowed, a fresh set of hot tears welling up. “She’s dead.”

“Dead?!” Pietro echoed, marred by a mix of emotions you couldn’t decipher.

“She…” Peter trailed off, eyes wide and innocent.

“It’s Parker.” Pietro spat. “His movie nut mind has snapped. He’s gone psycho.” Pietro launched himself suddenly forward.

“Stay back!” You shouted, no real warning behind the threat.

Though, to your relief, Pietro listened. Both of them stood, barely a metre away and waiting for you to act. You trusted neither. A beat passed as you regained strength, coming to a conclusion about what to do.

“Is there another way out the house?” You asked.

Pietro nodded with barely a second to think. “Peter’s locked the backdoor and taken the keys, I saw-“

“No, I didn’t!” The younger boy interrupted, incredulous and frightened.

“But there’s another way out. A trapdoor in the basement. It leads outside.”

“Alright.” You nodded, gulped. “Lead the way.”

“No…Y/N...” Peter whined. “Please, we can’t trust him, it’s a trap!”

“Shut it, Parker,” Pietro growled through gritted teeth, then suddenly appeared to change tactics, snapping his attention to you. “You can’t believe him, Y/N. He’s lost it. Those graphic, violent horror films he loves, they’ve gone to his head. Go on! Ask him what his favourite film is!”

“It’s Aliens… But I hardly see how that’s relevant!” Peter’s eyes were wide and shining, brimming with tears. “Deep down I know you trust me, and you won’t let Pietro win, you won’t follow him into that basement…”

“I…” You began, taking in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know.”

“Come on Y/N….” Pietro dragged out your name, his gaze solely on you. “You can work it out.” He muttered. “Use that smart brain of yours Wanda’s always going on about… Peter’s in love with you, that’s why all his victims are your ex-lovers.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Peter exclaimed.

“But you can’t deny it.” The silver-haired boy continued. “You see the way he looks at you. The way he obsesses over you. He’s lost it. He knows he can’t have you, so no one can- and if that means killing you too then so be it!”

“Y/N I would never!”

“Oh, he would.”

“Shut it, both of you!” You finally chimed in, mind reeling with the information Pietro was pouring into it. You knew you couldn’t follow Pietro into that basement. But you also knew you couldn’t stay here with Peter either. You took a deep, steadier breath. “Ok here’s what we’re going to do. Pietro, you’re going to go down to the basement, wait by this trapdoor, if it’s really there. Meanwhile Peter, can you make it to the phone in the living room?” You asked, nodding towards the end of the corridor.

Peter was in bad shape judging by the pale colour of his skin, and the way he was hunched over in pain, yet he nodded enthusiastically.

“No…” Pietro moaned, bringing his hands up to clutch his face. “No, no, no!” He stood up straight, throwing his arms by his side to reveal an expression of petulant dissatisfaction. “That’s not how this is meant to go!” He yelled, suddenly, taking you by surprise as you stumbled against the wall.

“Pietro… what-“

“Y/N, you’re meant to go down to the basement!” He gestured out at you, movements frantic and irritated. “Where you see Kate- and oof, she’s real messed up.” He pulled a face, and, well, you didn’t have to fill in the blanks there. “While you’re distracted, Wanda comes downstairs and finishes off Peter and that’s where we have the big reveal!” Pietro laughed manically.

Your stomach dropped.

“Then, in an act of self-defence, you stab Wanda as I run upstairs and call the cops and ‘oh yes, officers” Pietro mocked, explaining his sick plans. “We need your help! It was Y/N all along, she faked it all! She has some sick, twisted fetish, murdering the women she can’t have- and Peter and I- we got in the way.”

Bile rose up your throat as you listened in, trying to fight back. “That never would’ve worked!”

“Maybe not by yourself, but here’s where we bring in Kate, who I tragically fought back against and won when I discovered this deranged reality. I’m, of course, devastated by this revelation. That the two of you worked together. The psycho and the pervert.” He said, singsong and mocking.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs, behind your field of view.

“He’s right.” Wanda’s voice was level as she descended, totally unharmed, and eerily calm in spite of everything occurring in her house, serving to confirm your worst fear. She was involved in this masterplan, lacking Pietro’s enthusiasm, but making up for it in the darkness that seemed to shroud her- your girlfriend.

“Anyways,” Wanda continued, “that’s how it should’ve gone if someone hadn’t messed up,” she growled, her frustrations tuned to Pietro. “I played my part perfectly, and you couldn’t hold the fort down for five minutes while I faked my death?” Wanda didn’t spare a glance at you as she walked past you to stand by her brother.

Your heart had plummeted into your stomach, and your body was racked by tremors. Your own girlfriend had been lying to you this whole time. She was a murderer- and Pietro too. He had practically confessed to either killing- or orchestrating the killing, of your best friend. And Yelena, poor Yelena too. She had been wrapped up in their web of psychopathic lies.

Tears burned their way down your cheeks. “But… why?” You tried to put on a brave face, you really did, but your voice shook.

“Why?” Wanda repeated, her face flashing hot with anger. “Why, Y/N?” She took a menacing step towards you, but before she could force her way into your personal space, Peter stumbled in front, placing himself protectively between you.

Wanda chuckled, though there was no humour behind the sound. She swivelled around, pacing over to Pietro as she spoke, “Because I know the truth. I know you never truly wanted to be with me.”

“W-what?” You stuttered out, placing a steadying hand on Peter’s shoulder as his injured body shook with the exertion of standing.

“Pietro never liked you.” She spat, changing the subject. “You know that, right? Nor Kate.”

Pietro grinned, cruel and horrifying.

“He’s a diagnosed psychopath. But neither of you knew that” Wanda continued, “and I bet you also don’t know that psychopathy doesn’t mean no emotions- like those shitty horror films suggest. He does feel things, he just doesn’t know how to react to them.” She shrugged, fixing you with a cold glare. “And so, when I came crying to him that I’d overheard Agatha Harkness talking in the girl’s bathroom about how you and Yelena were in love with each other, well- he just had to do something about that.”

“That’s ridiculous!” You interrupted, desperate to deny the rumours that seemed endlessly to plague you. “Agatha Harkness is the biggest gossip at our school. Just because she says something, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“See, but I didn’t want to believe it, I really didn’t,” she continued, ignoring you. “But then each time, you pushed me away, it made me realise, she was right.” Wanda cocked her head, crying slightly, though you felt no pity for her.

Instead, you were angry: all of this from a rumour. “So that’s why you murdered… You killed people Wanda, because you were insecure?” You were enraged by her justification, the terror flooding your body having morphed into something much more brutal and unforgiving. “Ever heard of just breaking up?”

“Hey,” Pietro pointed an accusatory finger at you, “don’t talk to my sister like that! She deserves respect, which you’ve failed to give her this entire time.”

“And you…Pietro.” You shook your head. “You were just using Kate for some big revenge scheme. And for what? To make your sister feel better, to kill some people?” You mocked, no longer afraid to provoke the murderers. “What are you meant to be, the next Norman Bates? Only your mother’s never here so you had to fixate on your sister-“

The moment you finished speaking, multiple things happened at once.

Pietro, who had been simmering with rage since you turned on him, lunged forward, hands outstretched to enclose around your neck. He was blocked as Peter used the remained of his strength to barrel into him, slamming the two of them into the wall opposite.

“Y/N, run!” Peter yelled while you stayed paralysed by shock.

You flickered to Wanda, who looked a mix of surprised and devastated. A second later, she looked at you, suddenly understanding what Peter had said, and realising she would need to stop you.

Fortunately, you were a beat quicker and took off in the direction of the basement.

“Y/N!” Footsteps thundered down the stairs behind you. Like a landslide, deadly and unstoppable, Wanda wouldn’t give up until she caught up with you.

But you were faster. Adrenaline gave you strength, speed, focus. You spotted a trapdoor in seconds despite the dingy lighting of the basement, flickering and swaying as you rushed past the lightbulb hanging from the centre of the room.

As it swung, it illuminated a sight your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to: Kate, her body bloody, slumped against the wall having been dragged into a seated position. You stuttered to a stop. Her face was peaceful, as though she were simply asleep, but not convincing enough to provide you with any consolation. Blood painted her pale cheeks, and you knew she had died in pain. At either the hand of your girlfriend- or arguably worse, her brother, Kate’s boyfriend.

“Y/N.” Wanda repeated, without the prior urgency.

You realised you had been still for a while now, paralysed by the dawning reality of your situation, or more important, the futility of your escape. You had to crane your neck upwards to see the trapdoor, and beneath it an unfortunate lack of stairs. You were doomed.

Wanda was panting beside you; the brief sprint having taken its toll on her. You now noticed the knife clutched in her left hand, its blade clean and shining- taunting you. It had yet to be used, and you wondered whether perhaps Wanda had saved it just for you, whether she had picked it out, thought yes, this is the one I want to plunge into the heart of my lover.

Your girlfriend was undeniably menacing in this state. Her chest was rising and falling, her whole body seeming to shrink and expand with each breath, blocking out the exit behind her.

And yet, you still weren’t scared.

“Is this the part where I beg for my life?” You scoffed.

In fact, you were angry.

“Only if you want to,” Wanda replied though she made no move towards you. “But Kate didn’t.”

So, that confirmed it: your girlfriend had been the one to end your best friend's life. You knew she had brought it up to get a rise out of you, get you to react in some way other than vengeful indifference, but you wouldn’t justify her with it. You could tell by the twist of her lips that it was driving Wanda crazy.

You swallowed. “What about Yelena?”

“That one was Pietro.” She answered. “God, did it drive me crazy knowing I wouldn’t be the one to end her life, that I wasn’t the last thing she saw in this lifetime. But I needed to be at your house, as an alibi, so you could trust me for a little longer. Girlfriend duties, am I right?” She rolled her eyes humorously.

You weren’t laughing, rather, you frowned. “Then why did you show up at my house and drop your secret mobile phone next time?”

“To confuse you, Y/N… I wanted you to doubt everyone, everything you knew- or thought you knew about people.”

You chuckled in disbelief. “You’re insane, Wanda.”

“I’m not-“

“Like your brother,” you continued, ignoring her protests, “you say he’s the diagnosed psychopath, but maybe you need to get checked out. Actually, while you’re at it, get your parents checked too. I’d love to know why I’ve never met them, let alone seen them.”

There was a pause: silence, and then, “You have.” Wanda gulped, your gaze tracing the movement. “You have seen them. When you arrived at the house and walked to the front door.”

Your furrowed brow was starting to give you a headache, but she was making no sense.

“They’re buried in the garden.” She clarified, gaze drifting around the basement, refusing to settle on anything in particular. She hummed, sad and low. “They died a couple years back, and… me and Pietro… we didn’t want to get put into foster care and separated. We just knew we had to make it work for a while.”

Your lips parted, though you had nothing to say. These had been the most emotionally exhausting days of your life, and you wanted them to end.

“But you were so young….” You said, distracted from the present by the sudden exposition Wanda was providing.

“Close enough to eighteen to improvise.” She shrugged, the movement causing the light to catch the metal of the knife, reflecting round the room in a flash of silver.

“Well, I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been…” You sighed. “But it’s an explanation… not an excuse for what you’ve done, Wanda.”

As Wanda stood there, knife glinting in the faint basement light, something in her expression shifted. Her eyes, previously soft and vulnerable as she poured her heart out to you had become hard, filled with cold resolve. She leapt forward, the blade above you, ready to strike downwards.

In an act of self-defence, you pushed upwards, a hand closing around her forearm and halting the knife’s path.

She pushed down as you pushed up, though the effort was futile as Wanda’s whole body shook, unable to find the strength to plunge the knife into your head, which remained barely an inch away from the sharp tip.

“I can’t do this!” She announced, abruptly stepping backwards and letting you stumble to regain your balance. Wanda’s lip quivered as she looked at you, pain etched into her face. The knife she once held so confidently now seemed like a foreign object. “I can’t hurt you Y/N. I don’t understand! You have this effect on me, I…”

Before she could finish her rambling, you lunged at her, instinct guiding your fist into her enclosed palm, smashing the knife out of her grasp. It clattered to the floor with a metallic clang as you both simultaneously threw yourself towards it, struggling and grappling in a tangle of fear and desperation. You struck your elbow back into her face, hard, and she gasped. In the spare moment, you wrestled the knife from her possession and in one swift motion, plunged it into her side.

Wanda cried out in agony.

You dragged the knife out, ignoring the splatter of blood that followed it, jumping quickly to your feet.

Wanda stayed on the floor, rolling onto her back as her hands grasped at her side, attempting to stop the flow of blood pouring endlessly from the wound.

You choked out a sob, everything around you blurred except for the red soaking into the concrete ground beneath her. And then, you remembered: once this had been Yelena, once it had been Kate, and possibly now Peter. This was the second time this evening that you had seen your girlfriend die, only this time you hoped it stuck.

Wanda’s eyes were frantically searching yours, silently screaming for help as her mouth was agape, drawing in shallow breaths. Hurt and confusion filled her pupils… and something that almost resembled regret… But you didn’t have time to think about it. This was for all her prior victims. For all those that she and Pietro had murdered. You would be the one to escape Wanda’s clutches.

You turned back to the trapdoor, your vision finally adjusted to the dim basement light and spotting a ladder tucked in the corner of the room. You scrambled over to it, heart pounding as you dragged the structure across the room. It scraped against the floor, ear-piercing and loud. You hoped it wouldn’t draw Pietro’s attention, wherever he now lurked in the house.

Shaking hands gripped at the rungs, pulling yourself up with all the power you had left. You had no idea what awaited you above this underground nightmare, but you would never be more ready to face it. Slamming your hand into the trapdoor, moonlight flooded down into the room as you kept climbing up, away from the torment.

As your hand grasped onto the cold, solid ground outside, you could’ve sworn you heard Wanda’s voice echo faintly behind you, a soft plea. You halted, the urge to check on her almost convincing you to look back, but not quite.

Your second hand reached up, and you hauled yourself through the frame of the trapdoor and onto the grass, slightly damp between your fingers. It grounded you. This was real. You took in a breath of fresh air, feeling the cool night air fill your lungs and slow your pounding heart. After a minute, you stood, legs carrying you in the direction of Tony’s parked car further down the driveway, its white reflective paint like a beacon at the end of a long, dark path.

“Hey!” A shrill voice rung out into the night, one you dreaded to recognise instantly as Pietro. You glanced towards the source of the sound to confirm your worst suspicions, and there he was, jumper soaked with dark red blood as he staggered forward.

He was injured, badly, but giving chase as you sprung into action.

“Tony!” You yelled, legs burning as you bolted across the garden. “Tony!” You cried out again, this time catching the attention of two silhouettes sitting in the cop car.

Tony Stark and Pepper Potts frantically stepped out of the car as you drew nearer, their eyes widening at the sight of you sprinting, Pietro following closely on your heels. You could almost feel him reaching out for you, could imagine the cool metal of a knife drawing across your bare skin.

“Get down!” Tony shouted, drawing his gun.

You ducked to the side, and he fired a shot. You scrambled to your knees just in time to see Pietro dodge the bullet, ramming straight into Tony and sending the gun flying across the yard.

Pepper didn’t hesitate. She dived for the gun, rolled to her feet, and fired once, twice, her arm unwavering as she stared Pietro down. Tony jumped to a stand, untangling from the struggle as Pietro staggered, his face contorted in rage and pain, before promptly collapsing to the ground a mere couple of feet away from you.

His eyes never closed, his face never finding peace as more blood spilt out onto his jumper, no longer its original colour, but rather marred by different shades of red. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his body, unable to truly believe he was dead, despite how his chest lacked the monotonous rise and falling movement that signified life.

It was over. And yet, you knew that, just like Pietro, you would never find peace.

...

Sirens blared as a never-ending stream of ambulances arrived, paramedics swarming the scene. Red and blue illuminated the house, arguably more imposing than the first time you had laid eyes on it earlier in the night. You stood frozen, your chest heaving as you watched the world fade into obscurity all around you.

And then, “Bring the stretchers! We’ve got one alive in here!”

You waited with bated breath, refocusing on the front door as the first stretcher carried someone out. Your immediate hope was that Wanda had somehow survived, but as you reluctantly remembered everything you had just gone through, you berated yourself for hoping for such a thing.

You stepped forward, away from the paramedic who had been fussing about you since their arrival, and over to the stretcher.

It was Peter: barely conscious, covered in blood and bruises, and impossibly paler since you had last seen him… Since he had sacrificed himself for the mere possibility of your escape.

“Wait!” You called out to the team lifting him through the threshold of the house, away from the brutality inside. “Let me…” Your voice broke off as you drew nearer, examining the true state of him.

They stopped momentarily, allowing you to reach out as if to brush the hair out of his face, then halting at the last moment. He looked so delicate in this state, so easily breakable.

Instead, you leant over, placing your lips gently against his forehead as you fought against a wave of tears threatening to spill.

Whether it was just imagination reassuring your frantic mind, you weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you saw the corner of his lips flicker upwards.

And in that moment, you realised something. If Peter was going to be okay, then so would you. Someday.

END :)

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #yelena belova x reader #peter parker x reader

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buubblegum · 3 months ago

Text

the possibilities of a new beginning

pairing; five hagreeves x fem!reader (replacing dolores btw sorry)

summary; that was a shitshow of a final season. im going to fix that and you're coming with me! many references to earlier seasons!

the feeling of boiling skin overlapping his own was haunting, making his brain toss and turn like a sleepless man.

‘it's to save the world’ the thought kept repeating in his mind, ‘we must cease to exist’. closing his eyes, five was ready to embrace death, to fix the world that had been doomed to fail the moment the marigold entered their mother's wombs.

‘this isn't fair.’

beep beep beep beep. went the digital alarm clock, screaming at the sleeping man to arise for the morning. five jolted up. frantically looking around in hopes of finding his siblings.

instead, walls of creamy white, a brown dresser, comfy bed, carpeted floors — an average bedroom... where was he...?

he stared off into space for a moment, recollecting his thoughts, before he heard the whir of an electric toothbrush. “who's there?”

“ah! sleepin' beauty woke up!” a voice called back, like an echo. a familiar yet, also unfamiliar voice coming from the other room. “you've slept in, we're going to be late if you don't start moving.”

five furrowed his brows, before he looked down at his hands. they weren't scarred like they used to be, they were... oddly normal. and his umbrella tattoo — wait, what umbrella tattoo?

footsteps approached the bedroom, a woman with a white towel wrapped around her body, and another wrapping her hair up to dry. “you okay there, five?”

the electric toothbrush whirred, a bit of toothpaste stuck to the side of the lady's mouth, as she gripped the towel to keep it from falling.

five snapped out of it once the whir glitched for a second then continued. “what day is it?”

“8th of August, 2024.” she replied, knitting her brows together in concern. “did you have a bad dream?”

a dream? was it a dream? was it reality? did we fix it? is this heaven? a domestic life with the woman, who strangely looked like a mannequin he swore he saw in a shop once?

“five?” the lady snapped her finger's, attempting to get his attention. five whipped his head up to look at the woman.

“[___]?” he said, saying her name, but almost questioning. like he forgot who she was. she laughed.

“yes, [___] hargreeves, your lawfully wedded wife and love of your life.” she teased back, smiling at five when she moved over to the dresser, pulling out clothes.

their wedding... as if memories of a whole life were coming back to him, he remembers. their wedding day, how beautiful she looked in her dress.

he remembers luther and his wife, sloane, there as well.

raymond almost spilling his wine on allison's dress, which made her laugh.

klaus and his lover, dave, keeping claire and the other kids occupied while diego and lila mingled off somewhere else — just to get a breather away from the kids.

five also remembers ben, showing off his new partner, jennifer, at the wedding like she was the greatest thing in the world. while jennifer just laughed and smiled sweetly.

“how... long have we been married now?” he asks.

“2 years.” [___] says, humming herself a time as she picked out a shirt to go with her jeans. “which jeans, black or blue... oh! speakin' of jeans. the neighbours dropped off your mail this morning, mailman got mixed up.”

jeans? neighbours? — “who?”

“the neighbours? jeanette and gene? jean and gene?” [___] said back, trying to jog his memory. “your memory isn't the best today, love.”

ah! his neighbours, of course. “tell them i said thank you.” five replied, shifting hsi legs and attempting to get out of bed.

once his bare heels hit the carpet, memories came racing back to him.

raymond and allison's wedding, claire's first birthday, luther and sloane getting together, lila and diego announcing their pregnancy, opening up a diner, where ben met jennifer — meeting [___]... in the department store, setting up the mannequins in their dresses...

what was he thinking about earlier? umbrella? did he need a new one? huh? what was he thinking again?

it was like his mind was erased in just a millisecond. a lively spark in his eyes appeared. “what are we doing today?”

“grace's birthday. remember?”

grace, grace, grace. diego and lila's little girl. it was her birthday, yeah. five nodded, “yes, i do.”

“i got that coffee you like yesterday. it's on the counter, near the spice rack, also — can you make sure to grab gracie's present from the cupboard??” [___] asked before five could leave the room.

he looked over at his wife, realising this was his life. he had a good life. a life many versions of himself many people would kill to have. a domestic, and family oriented lifestyle.

the sides of five's mouth twitched up in a smile. ”of course.” he answered her, before he put on a pair of navy blue slippers and walked down the hall, checking out the decor.

cabinets and glass doors cupboards filled with souvenirs and memories. paintings and family pictures on the walls. a retro styled house phone painted in a sunset for the aesthetics.

something crunched under his feet as he walked along. looking down, he lifted up his foot. a domino mask. a fake one, it had the dc robin logo on the back, probably from on of his nieces or nephew's, they probably left it here by accident.

something about the mask made him pause. dragging his finger across the black edgings, and white eye covers. “hm...” he mused, before placing it on a shelf in hesitation and slight dazed confusion.

that mask reminded him of something he felt wasn't even real. but the thing is, he couldn't remember? maybe an alternate version of himself knew what this was about.

he smiled at the mask, and scoffed at the idea. multiple timelines? how silly.

On the twelfth hour of the eighth day of August 2024, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary occurred. You might say, it was just a normal day.

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tarjapearce · 1 year ago

Text

Unfit

Warning: Just fluffin' and mild angst.

Summary: Mama isn't feeling well. Comfort ensues.

A/N: Was under the seasonal blues and wrote this. ~ Hugs if you're not doing that good as well. ❤️

Rain had been waning through the day only to return full force on bed time. Sometimes you wished to have Rosie's or Benjamin's deep sleep. Even Gabriella's. But all you could muster was to sit on the bed's edge and let the heavy emotional toll that had crept like a crawler in your head, to hang. Just like your head and your slumping shoulders.

Be it the weather or your recurrent thoughts about the many things that had transpired in your life to sit before you, in half a circle. Ready to throw their worst at your mind. You felt like being the object of their judging and scrutinizing gaze.

Family, followed by fears, next to it anxiety, and in the last seat, insecurities. Their presence alone had made you grip the bed's edge with such force you could feel the sturdy springs.

A shaky breath gave a green flag to your tears, allowing them to slid down your flushed cheeks. The past few days had been rough on your head, if not the whole week. But motherhood had grope you by the neck so tightly and kept you as busy as ever, you had forgotten on how to process your emotions correctly.

Ironic as it was you were always encouraging your own children and even Miguel to do so. And sometimes, like right now, your emotional needs were too loud to be neglected any further.

The rain's tempo increased, letting a rumble tear through the sky and light it up with a lightning. Miguel entered the room, slipping into a red flannel, his favorite, but stopped in his tracks upon seeing you.

Wobbly shoulders, silent sobs and sniffs and the sheets crumpled underneath your fisted hands on the mattress.

"Mi amor?"

His voice forced to wipe the tears instantly, allowing the cushioned surface to breath for a moment, and still you were unable to face him. The bed dipped behind you under his weight, his hand reached for your defeated shoulders, maneuvering you with such care and gentleness that had you at the brink of breaking again.

It was only when you were embraced by him, smothered in his arms and chest that you broke. His muscles tensed for a second upon hearing you so distressed. Had he done something? No. It wasn't him. It was something more complex than that.

He shushed you while his hands ran through your hair, reassuring, comfortingly smooth. His lips kissed your forehead, making the silent affirmation of being there for you. His other hands rubbed small circles on your back, coaxing the calm that had hid behind your surfacing messy feelings.

"Wanna talk about it?"

His voice a soft murmur. You nodded.

A few more tears were shed before you tried to settle the shaky and brokenness in your own voice at bay. Your nose sniffled as your lip quivered.

"I... I feel overwhelmed. Afraid and tired."

His thumbs wiped away the fresh tears and looked at you, coaxing you to continue.

"I feel so unfit in so many levels it's ridiculous." You heaved, trying to ease the knot in your throat, "I feel like I'm not being a good mother, that... Im not a good person to be around sometimes, so unfit for you."

He frowned but listened. Bloodshot eyes turning glossy once more

"I know you love me to death but... sometimes my head play such dirty tricks on me is stupid how easy I let them win." Your lids dropped for a moment before let your eyes resume their stare on him.

"I feel so overwhelmed at little things, that shouldn't have that effect on me. Cause you're always there, reminding me of how amazing I am, but my brain it's simply unable to grasp around it."

The lump in your throat engorged, making it difficult to breath.

" I feel unfit for being a mother cause it's hard. I love my babies to death, but I can't help but feel that I'm slacking at something and... and...-"

His arms squeezed you gently and held you closer, hiding for a second your trembling face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm so sorry to be just bawling over stupid thoughts and making you stay up later than usual."

"Mi reina." His tone was firm, yet soft, fingers reached for your chin making you to gaze at him once more, "You have nothing to apologize for."

He sighed and removed an unruly strand out of your face.

"I sometimes feel this exact way too. I feel a shitty husband, that I'm not properly taking my role as your friend, and so many other similar things. But"

He inhaled, making you mimick him.

"By the end of the day they are nothing but thoughts. I know it's hard to fight them. Hell, feel kinda hypocritical right now by saying this but-" He smooched you.

"You are not your thoughts, cariño."

His words were the balm your broken spirit craved. And it craved it badly.

"I can't help but feel like every day is a bad day. Gabi has grown so fast I'm... starting to dread her teenage phase."

"We all have bad days. Today is one of them too, nothing wrong in that. And she'll be good. We've raised her well."

Your head was shaken with a weak nod.

"As for being a bad mother, cómo es que dicen los jovenes?" (How do youngsters say it?)

His bushy eyebrows squinted as he tried to remember to then lit up at getting it, "You... Uh... You tripping?"

That earned him a little giggle from you, his eyes softened at the gesture.

"Dios mío, don't say that again." You couldn't hold back an ugly snort.

"No Cap. Just fax."

You cringed and giggled in between little hiccups.

"Fax? What are you even talking about?"

He spoke in between titters and silent laughs, but the idiocy of it all had made you laugh and curl up closer.

"You gotta slay my queen."

"Stop, oh my god"

"Pero ya, hablando en serio." (But hey, talking in all seriousness) He cleared his throat and cupped your cheeks.

"You're the best mom, wife, woman and best friend I could ever have. And I'm a blessed man to have you and my little spiders."

"Even if they are so..."

"Annoying at times? yeah. They are. No judgement here. Parenting is hard."

You nodded a bit too enthusiastically.

"Nothing wrong with admitting we get tired from time to time."

"I wished we could have vacations from it."

Your tears had been long dry, but your face remained on his chest.

"We will, once Rosie is a bit more grown. How about that?"

"I'd love to, yeah."

"Go to a girl's night with Jessica and MJ in the meantime. I'll handle the kids."

"Really?"

"Claro. Can't have my wife feeling shitty and do nothing about it."

Miguel kissed your forehead once more and squeezed you in his arms.

"You're always taking care of us that you often tend to forget about yourself."

"Learned that from you" You half chuckled and he swatted your head gently.

"No aprendas mañas." (Don't learn the bad things)

You giggled and he caressed your cheek gently. Eyes softening at you

"Feeling better?"

"Kinda. Gimme a kiss"

He did and smothered you closer.

"Anything else you wanna talk about?"

"Not really."

"Segura?" (You sure)

"Yeah"

"C'mere." He hooked his leg on yours, trapping your body underneath it and part of his torso. You didn't squeal like other times, rather relished in his warmth.

"Te amo, Miguel."

"También te amo."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#wife reader #Mama O'Hara

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mrinafria · 5 months ago

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Is Seon Jae corny?

One of the biggest charms of Lovely Runner for me is how it portrays a romance that is youthful, goofy, foolish and yet touches your heart in the most sensible and mature way possible. It doesn't forget it's a romcom at heart and serves us just that, so going into the show expecting a different genre is just unfair to the show (and yourself because you are the one setting yourself up for disappointment imo).

I'm not a big fan of immature childish romance devoid of any substance but that is not what we see here, despite Seon Jae being 19yo (or 20 or 34 yo). There's youthful anticipation, excitement and emotions but somehow Seon Jae's character (and Im Sol's character too, although she's always been 34yo in the main narrative) manages to transcend the notion of age and time with what he feels for Im Sol, the extent of it and the way he acts when it comes to her. Romance today is calculative and is often done in moderation, which is not necessarily a bad thing, because it is essential to learn to love ourselves too as we love someone special, but for both Im Sol and Seon Jae, loving themselves is also intrinsically connected to loving each other. Im Sol learns to appreciate life through loving Seon Jae, Seon Jae loves Im Sol because he appreciates what life has to offer.

This scene, for instance. I've rambled about this in the past too. It always warms my heart to see how, in all the timelines, he never gives up on life itself due to Im Sol not reciprocating his feelings/not remembering him. The guilt/heartbreak, longing and lovesickness are palpable in all versions of Seon Jae across all timelines but every time, he chooses to move forward in life (despite his heart being stuck in time with his Sol-ah), embracing everything life has to offer him. One of the things that becomes evident pretty early on in Lovely Runner is Seon Jae loves life. He may struggle sometimes but he doesn't think of it as a chore or burden to live on. He has things he cherishes, people he hangs out with, his dreams, aspirations, pain and struggle outside of Im Sol. He is not a pushover, he has stuff going on, he has a life. And he's not someone who'll casually say things like "I'll die for you" to anyone just to impress and get them to date him. Such grand statements don't usually make much of an impact on me as a viewer either but here, it somehow just works? Perhaps because we know he loves his life and wouldn't give it up no matter how hard things get, except for when he, his first and only love, part of his soul, is in crisis--tested by fate and time and death--and he is adamant about not letting it mess with his happiness, just like he wasn't ready to give up swimming despite Im Sol's warnings and his existing injury. That is the only time he'd make an exception: choose to live a short, worthwhile life, than live a long one devoid of any happy memories or love. It is not his childishness. In fact, he is doing what many of us can never, ever do. And perhaps that's why it doesn't sit well with some of the viewers; he complicates how we define love, happiness, fulfillment these days.

And come to think of it, he doesn't really say he'll die for her. He says Even if I die trying to save you, it's okay: it's a sad thing, Sol-ah. it's painful, yes, but it's okay. I might be worried for the remaining 14 years of my life, but that's because I'll have very little time to love you, to be in this feeling, to cherish the moments I make with you. I'll be sad that I won't see my first grey hair with you or be with you in so many of your big milestones in life, but it's okay. I'll try to make the most of whatever we get, now and tomorrow.

His sadness and heartbreak comes not from not being able to live his life to the fullest, but not being able to live his life with her. That exact same sentiment is conveyed by the final 2023 Seon Jae too, who doesn't even remember Im Sol or any of his old timeline versions and yet says the same thing.

The 2009 Seon Jae doesn't say 'I WILL die trying to save you'; he says 'if', there is a conditional. Even when he's aware of the impending doom, he doesn't give up on his life, on the 'if'. The guy with that face that has accepted a death that is yet to come, with eyes brimming with tears, with a heart determined to live hoping for an 'if' until then… when this guy makes such cheesy claims about his love and death, it's no longer an empty exaggerated promise. It hits a lot harder and leaves me momentarily breathless. That claim, stemming from the inherent human instinct to just want to be happy, and that non-calculative, selfless, pure kind of love, is exactly the thing I signed up for. That proclamation—simple, corny—is pain wrapped in momentary happiness, and my heart sinks, thinking just how fast he had to grow up in that short span of moments.

Ryu Seon Jae is like a North Star—he may not shine the brightest, but he shines bright enough in the same way, consistently, in every timeline we see him in. He is the star you could identify even in the sea of a million stars. Because that's how distinct his persona is. He may be corny and a loser, but he is corny and a loser exclusively for Im Sol, not in his life. That's the best kind of corny and loser one could find.

#Byeon Woo Seok #Kim Hye Yoon #Lovely Runner #Sun Jae #Im Sol #Seon Jae #선재 업고 튀어 #kdrama #kdrama recommendations #east asian drama #episode reaction

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hotpinkstars · 6 months ago

Note

Since we all love crumbs of angst every now and then:

Boothill being a dad is kinda bittersweet on it's own given his past.

But what if-

He lost his s/o due to labor complications. Another person on the list of people he lost out of nowhere.

LOSS - boothill x reader

- you pass away giving birth to your child.

- hi guys im sick 🤒 and i feel like i'm going to pass out but i decided to write 👍 this ask broke me but i just had to write it and i have no regrets... guys i was gonna write angst anyway but this one. this.

- major character death, hurt no comfort, written by someone who has never had a baby or been pregnant, pre-cyborg boothill wc 863

You have reached your due date, leaving both you and Boothill on your toes.

You’ve have a specifically rough pregnancy in itself, being horribly sick in the middle of it, really bad pain for the majority of it, and you were absolutely ready to get this baby out of you.

It pained Boothill to see you in so much agony, so he wishes the same, too. There's only so much he can do when it comes to how painful and hard your pregnancy was.

So, when he was awoken to moaning and the sight of you leaning up against the headboard at around 2 in the morning, he was excited, but also really nervous. If your pregnancy was harsh, how bad would your labor be?

When you saw him wake up, you immediately gripped his arm, holding onto it for dear life before he could even register the situation unfolding before him. Tears were streaming down your face, little gasps and moans coming from your chapped lips every once in a while.

“What’s going on?” He asked, groggy and barely capable of opening his eyes. You fall into his embrace, crying lightly into his shoulder.

“It hurts,” you manage to choke out, trying to get as much air in and out as you can.

“Is it baby time?” He sat up, a glimmer in his now wide eyes. You nod, clutching his shoulders and leaning back into the pillow. At the same time he was excited, he was also indescribably nervous. He wasted no time in readying himself to take you to the hospital.

He ran around your shared ranch, preparing everything possible after helping you walk to the couch so you were in a less stuffy space. He draped a light blanket over your form, occasionally sitting with you while you’re fighting a contraction.

He got you to the hospital alright, which was a success in his eyes. The only thing he couldn’t do was take your pain away, and it pulled at his heart in a horrible way. The amount of “‘M sorry, sugar,” he whispered on the way to the hospital would be more than countable on both hands.

So now, with you in the nurses hands, all he had to do was help you through contractions, and wait until his baby was born.

He was confident in your abilities to give birth to a healthy baby, and he was also confident in your capabilities of rebounding from the birth. That was, until your pulse dropped.

Thankfully, a nurse was checking how dilated you were, and noticed your breathing pattern was very… labored. He understood something was wrong when she stopped midway through checking you to come up to give you an oxygen mask, and telling you to breathe before frantically finding other nurses. While a bunch of professionals crowd around you, someone pulls him aside.

“You’re the husband, yes?” The nurse asked, sitting down to type away on a keyboard. He nodded, fidgeting with his fingers while he rested his forearms on top of the counter.

“Is she gonna be alright?” He asked, some uncertainty laced within his accent, making it thicker.

The nurse hesitated and stumbled over her words. “I’m not entirely sure,” she managed to get out, crushing the cowboys' already strained heart. “You saw her state, and we're certainly going to have to perform a c-section. She’s much too weak for a vaginal birth.”

He nodded slowly. “When do I get to see her again?”

“You can now if you want to. There's just going to be a lot of nurses in there, that's all.”

So in the room he goes. He doesn’t want to miss out on anything, even if you’re extremely unstable and barely breathing. He walks in and kneels right by the side of your head, watching as your eyes crack open in the slightest, smiling through your oxygen mask.

“You’ll be alright, sugar,” he whispered before kissing your forehead. “It’ll all be alright.”

Famous last words.

You, for a matter of fact, were not alright. You could barely even keep your eyes open as they hand Boothill your baby. They were bloodshot, and very exhausted. As nurses were trying to stitch you up, your vision turned to black.

They escorted Boothill and your child out of the room and into a separate room as they try to help you once more. But nothing was working. Your heart had stopped beating, and the oxygen mask was no longer necessary.

When the news was broken to Boothill, he instantly broke down. A nurse took the baby into a separate part of the unit so she could be properly treated, and he rushed back over to your room with tears flooding his eyes to see if he could catch one final glimpse of you.

You were deathly pale, laying stiff on the bed, no life left in your body. He once again started to break down before being told to head home for the night, to get as much rest as he could and to come back in the morning.

Well, he was a father, but his daughter no longer had the mother she deserved.

#honkai star rail #hsr #boothill #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill x reader #tw pregnancy #angst #death

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orphicrose · 8 months ago

Note

I got bit by a spider a while ago and it made me come up with this request idea, imgiane Alastor x reader were they were already together and one day they come to him with a spider bite and then he aboustly looses it on Angel even tho the reader persists it wasn't him it was an actual spider and AL is like "doesn't matter! I'm not letting any spider harm you!" And Angel is like "HEY! IM A SPIDER DEMON NOT A SPIDER! AND I DONT BITE...unless ya want me too, and what are ya a spider racist?" And its a stupid argument but Alastor is still mad at Angel for a spider bite he didn't cause and Charlie and Vaggue have to break it up. 🤣

Tiny spider

This was really fun to write. Thank you so much for the suggestion

_______________𖤐

Alastor was always your night in shining armour when it came to bugs. Hearing your squeals of terror from the room next door to him, he could always safely assume it was because of some sort of mutated beetle or spider. And he was right 90% of the time. He’d swiftly eliminate the threat, sometimes letting it outside. Sometimes calling over niffty to have her fun with it. This time, though, he was too late. It got you. Seeping into your skin with its sharp fangs before you had the chance to notice it was on you.

Flinging your hand about in sheer panic, you let out a cry for help. Alastor assuming someone had murdered you, materialising into the room next to you hearing his hands. Ready to smite someone with his black magic at any given moment.

You turned, showing him the tiny red mark at the end of your finger. He calmed down, posture adjusting itself. He took your hand in his, moving his monocle closer to his eye to get a better look at the microscopic mark the even tinier perpetrator had left on you.

“What happened my love? A paper cut?” He mindlessly questioned to the sobbing face in front of his.

“It got me…” you almost wept from the panic.

“What got you, my darling” his arms slithered around your waist to pull you into an embrace.

“A spider”

His pupils dilated at the sentence, his beloved was hurt and his instincts tell him to seek justice. Arms pushed you away and within the blink of an eye, was on a search for said spider. There is was, all of its arms waving about in front of him, golden teeth bared ready to attack its next victim.

“Yeah so, now I have to work all day to make up for it tomorrow” angels arms waved around, exaggerating his story to the cat behind the bar in front of him.

“Uh huh.” He responded nonchalantly , cleaning a glass in his hand with a mouldy cloth. His face slowly lifted to see the spiders face, but his eyes widened when he saw the enraged Alastor behind him. Thinking it was for him, but almost relieved when Alastor reached for Angels neck from behind.

Angie screeched in a mix of confusion and fear, managing to twist his flexible body around in the deers clench. Soon being thrown to the floor “What the fuck are ya doing there, Alastor?” His voice was nervous, backing away as he was planted below him.

“You bit my darling y/n. Spider” he walked slowly toward the spider, before he burst out laughing. Leaving the confused Alastor with a tilt in his neck. “You think this is funny?”

Angel struggled to form a word between breaths of air. “Let me guess. Y/n got bit by a spider and you’re automatically gunning for me?” He got up, hand on his knee to help him.

“That’s a bit discriminatory to us spiders, we don’t all have 8 legs yanno?” He dusted his blazer off and wiped away a tear from his eye. Alastor losing his temper the more he spoke. Someone needed to pay for the harm, he thought.

Within seconds hell broke loose. Charlie and Vaggie rushed to the lobby after hearing something break. To be met with glasses being throw at the wall, a black tentacle slapping husk around the face, angels golden tooth glaring as he shot anything that moved and a fire In Alastors eye that said “death to all”. It was mayhem.

Before they had a chance to react, another scream came from the living room. Stopping everyone from what they were doing… except for niffty. Niffty was still cleaning up after everyone like a mad man.

Rushing to the room next door, the group stopped in their tracks to find you hiding on the mantle piece above the fire place.

“My dear? What’s the matter?” Alastor spoke first, stepping into the room.

“SPIDER!! ITS BACK TO FINISH ME OFF!” You screamed, pointing at the tiny black spec on the floor.

“Oooohh…” everyone in the door way collectively hummed, realising the mistake.

“what have you got to say to me now,huh?”Angel poked his shoulder, the demon gritting his teeth as his head snapped back.

“There’s still time to kill you, Angel dearest!”

#hazbin x y/n #hazbin x reader #Hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #request #reqs open #alastor fluff #alastor x reader #hazbin angel dust #angel x reader #fanfiction

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cheeseboi420 · 1 month ago

Text

Of A Feather - Chapter One Preview

A/N: hi everybody!!! I am super duper stoked to present u all with the first 2k words of Of A Feather, aka the "what if Jason's bio mom didnt SUCK" fic. Im hoping to have the full chapter ready for publishing in the next week or two! Big thanks to everyone who's talked to me abt this fic so far, and an ESPECIALLY big thanks to @jayladfanpage for basically being my jaybin encyclopedia while i work my way through this fic!!! This warning will be more applicable in future chapters but it should be noted that this fic is NOT canon compliant and does significantly change/recontextualize a couple things about Jason's background, but you the audience get to find out about all that in real time alongside Jason lmao!! Anyways, without further adieu, please enjoy this preview ❤️

TW: mentions of drug use, teen pregnancy, allusions to underage sex

You expect this evening to play out like the one before it. And the one before that. And the one before that. Your routine hasn't changed in the last 13 years. Why should it? It serves you well enough, keeps you alive and… Well, that's about all it does for you. Not that you're looking for more! For the most part, you are… content, maybe isn't the correct word. Complacent fits a little better, but still isn't wholly accurate. You're content in the knowledge that your boy is safe and loved, somewhere far away from the trouble that chases you. You're complacent in your own quiet misery. The longing and loneliness had been a bitter pill to swallow those first few years of running, but after this long you've learned not to complain. God knows no one would listen if you did.

You've got a shitty box pizza in the oven. This will be your dinner, tomorrow's breakfast, and tomorrow's dinner. You won't particularly enjoy any of the meals, but they'll sustain you well enough. These days, food brings you little, if any joy. Meal times are a chore to slog through before the distraction that work brings or the sweet embrace of sleep. You look forward to, more than anything, going to bed. Not because you're tired (though there is a bone deep weariness that permeates- that no amount of rest could ever fix) but because bed means sleep, and sleep means dreams, and dreams mean a chance to hold your baby again.

You don't dream of Jason every night, but every morning, you wake thinking of him. Is he still asleep right now? Having breakfast? Is he eating well? Is he happy? Is he happy? Is he happy?

By the time you push your way through breakfast most mornings the cacophony of thoughts revolving around your son quiets to a dull roar in the back of your mind. It's better that way, you think. If you thought about him as much as your mind seemed to want you to, you'd never get anything done.

Life carries on, you suppose. However dreary and dull that life may be.

At one time you'd found the whole thing very exciting- though not in a particularly enjoyable way. The adrenaline rush has worn off over the years, no longer do you feel as though death is nipping at your heels. The paranoia never fades though. Even if your doom does not cast a shadow over you, you're always looking over your shoulder, always ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

You keep a bag packed and ready in the closet by the front door for when you have to leave this place, too. Though, you think it's buried under a winter jacket and your spare blankets. You really ought to dig it out, keep it easily accessible. You should do that but… it's been a long day. You want to eat your shitty pizza, lay down on your futon, and let the sound of tv static fill your studio apartment, lulling you to sleep.

You're getting too comfortable here, you think. You've lived in Michigan for nearly a year now. It is simultaneously entirely too close to and entirely too far from Gotham. The apartment itself was a godsend after spending most of your time sleeping in cars, tents, whatever unfortunate business was willing to employ you, anywhere you could, really- sure it has bugs, and the windows don't close all the way, and you're fairly certain it'll only take one more bad winter storm for the place to come crumbling down, but rent is dirt cheap, and the slumlord you rent from didn't ask for any ID when you signed your ‘lease.’ You're fairly certain that thing's not legally binding anyways- it was written on a cocktail napkin for Christ's sake. That didn't stop you from using a fake name when signing it. You can never be too careful.

You haven't seen your landlord since you moved in anyways. You don't ask for maintenance when things break, you fix them yourself or just learn to live with them broken. You deliver your rent by slipping a cash stuffed envelope with your name (your fake name, the one you signed your lease with, the one you use at work, the one you'd use at coffee shops if you ever went to any) on it through the slot in the office door. You do your best to be invisible. You don't cause problems, and you don't go out of your way to fix them for others. You make no friends or enemies. You've left no impact on the many places you've been, the cities you've drifted through.

The only evidence you've gone anywhere at all in your life is a stack of postcards, held together with a worn rubber band, sitting at the bottom of your go-bag. The only evidence of a life lived before that is in a similarly bound stack of polaroids, held together with a too-small paperclip. Every now and then, you'll buy a bottle of cheap wine to chug as you pour over the old photographs. Only when you leave for a new city do you dare to touch the stack of unsent postcards.

You can't bear to look at the photos too often, a painful reminder of your own failings. A reminder of the stupid, reckless little girl you'd been and the shell of a woman you'd become in the aftermath.

Girls like you'd been were a dime a dozen in Crime Alley. Really, you weren't even a particularly special or severe case. Sure, you did drugs, but you weren't on crack. You were just a bit of a stoner! Sure you'd been sixteen and pregnant, without the slightest idea which of your former paramours had knocked you up- but it was all above board, really! None of those men had forced you to do anything. In fact, you sought them out of your own volition for all sorts of reasons. Attention, cheap affection, cheaper drugs, something to do, somewhere to go when the home you'd once shared with your father and brother had become too stifling to bear.

It's all your own fault, really.

At least that's what you keep telling yourself.

It's easier to swallow than the alternative: that you were a vulnerable and unloved thing, eating from any hand that would feed you, until the hand that feeds decides to beat.

This, you think, is why you shouldn't think too hard about the past. It doesn't do you any good to dwell on it.

You force yourself to focus on the present, on the here and now. The scratchy polyester blend of the futon cushions, the scent of cheap cheese melting in the oven, the distant sound of sirens, and howling wind outside your apartment. There's no sense in thinking about Gotham now, not when you're so far from it.

You sit up on the futon, no longer content to lounge and let your mind wander. Instead you task yourself with flipping through channels on TV, seeking something mind numbing enough to distract you from your unusually strong urge to reminisce.

The Wonder Years? No, you don't want to watch anything about a family.

Alf? No, that puppet creeps you out.

Cops? Fuck that.

You're about to resign yourself to another night of murmuring the (mostly incorrect) answers to Jeopardy questions at your tv, when you're startled by a knock at your door.

A… knock… at your door.

No one ever knocks on your door. You don't get mail, you don't have friends, if your landlord wanted something, you're willing to bet the greasy bastard wouldn't be willing to haul himself all the way up to the fifth floor at nearly 10 PM.

Oh God… Did… Did he find you? Is this it? Are you going to die in the upper peninsula of Michigan, of all places?!

No, no. You have to stay calm. This could be anything. It's just a knock at the door. It could be anyone!

Oh lord, it could be anyone.

You keep the tv on, hoping that the sound of Alex Trebek grilling folks on useless trivia will cover your footsteps as you creep towards your front door. You hold your breath as you press yourself against it, double checking that all three of your locks are secure before you risk a glance out the peephole.

When you look out into the hall you're surprised, and frankly a bit confused by the sight before you. Standing at your door is a boy, dark haired and bright eyed. He stands straight but not particularly tall- he can't be more than five feet. He's glancing around the hall, rocking back and forth on his heels. He's wearing a red sweatshirt and jeans, with a backpack slung over one shoulder. Despite his small stature he holds an air of determination that makes you think he must feel quite old for his age- you get that, you were the same way in your own youth. A chip too big for your shoulder.

You're so focused on studying him that it startles you when he leans forward to knock again. You jolt, accidentally kicking the door (with your bare feet too, damn does that hurt your poor toes) and responding to his knock-knock-knock with a solid knock of your own.

“Hello?” The boy calls. “Anybody home?”

“I don't have any money!” You call back, cursing yourself for the shake in your voice. You should not be this rattled by a random adolescent on your doorstep. “So, if you're selling popcorn, or cookies, or whatever, you should try next door.”

The boy rolls his eyes.

“I'm not a boy scout!” He says. “I'm looking for-”

And then the shoe drops; he says your name. Your full name. Not your fake name, that you use at work, and on envelopes, and in hypothetical coffee shops. Your real name.

It takes every bit of emotional regulation you can muster not to spiral into a full blown panic right then and there because good God, did He send a child to finish you off? The cruel irony is not lost on you. Come to think of it, this boy on your doorstep does bear an uncanny resemblance to-

“My name is Jason Todd,” the boy continues. “And uh… well, I might be your son?”

He could be lying, the logical part of your brain insists. This could be a ploy to get you to open the door, don't open the door! But your hands are moving on their own, shakey as they may be. The first lock twists unlocked with ease, the second takes a fair bit more of your fine motor function, and by the time your shaking hands reach up to unhook the chain on the door, you're struggling to see through unshed tears. You attempt once, twice, three fucking times to get your hands to cooperate and unlatch the damn chain.

Fuck it.

You open the door, yanking it inwards, towards yourself as hard as you can. It should probably unnerve you that the flimsy chain breaks at the first sign of real resistance, but that's not what's important right now.

What's important is the boy standing before you- your boy. Your Jason.

He looks as surprised as you feel, his eyes flitting between the broken chain, and you.

For a long moment the only thing you can do is look at him, reacquaint yourself with the sight of him. Of course, you know that he did not stay frozen in time, the way your memory of him is. It's been many years since you've held that babbling toddler. But knowing and seeing are two different things.

He's small for his age, is your first thought. Your own fault, you're certain. Between a premature delivery and your own malnourishment during that first trimester, it's a miracle he'd survived in the first place. Small, but well fed. His cheeks are full and flushed. Despite his size, he seems healthy. Good. That means Will's been feeding him. Hopefully, it means they got the hell out of The Alley, into a nicer neighborhood.

His hair isn't as curly as you'd pictured it- too short in most places to hold a curl, save for his bangs, which seem to almost form the shape of a heart over his forehead.

“Jason?” You can barely manage to say his name through the lump in your throat. You find yourself suddenly struggling to focus your gaze on him, the haze of tears welling up in your eyes makes it difficult to see. You try to blink them away but instead they roll down your cheeks.

God, when's the last time you cried?

You reach out to him, cupping one of his cheeks in the palm of your shaking hand. He leans into the affectionate touch, and you're reminded of puppies, overeager and seeking love at every opportunity.

“Mom,” he says back to you, his tone just as reverent as your own. “Mom,” he says again, voice crackling. And then, in unison, the both of you have pulled each other into a crushing hug. You can't tell if the sound you make is a sob or a laugh. You hold onto Jason like he'll vanish into the ether if you loosen your hold for even a second, one hand clutching at the back of his sweatshirt, the other at the back of his head, petting his hair as he buries his face in your neck.

Finally, at long last, your heart is home.

SO. What do we think folks. Are you hooked? I hope youre hooked. Please be hooked. I wanna talk to people about this fic so damn bad. Please send anons or dms or literally anything. When the chapter is complete I'll be putting it up here as well as on my ao3, which I'll link to! Thanks so much for reading and i hope yall are enjoying yourselves so far! Send me an anon or a dm if you'd like to be included on the taglist for this series!

TAGLIST: @leirobles

#jaybin #jason todd #batman #jason todd x reader #robin!jason #can this be tagged as batmom???#im tagging it as batmom #batmom #of a feather

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ideas-scattered-dreams · 2 years ago

Text

/ / REVENGE.

fandoms: Genshin impact AU!: imposter creator

imagine that... "kill them!", "this filthy sinner cannot be forgiven!", "how dare u impersonate our grace!" yells of hatred sparked from the mortals of teyvat. why did this happen to you. you were innocent, a mere player that loved genshin. You were shaking on your knees, bound to a damn statue that was similar to you, you had read hundreds of these imposter stories au type. laughed at some, angry at some, but in the true reality you were scared of this possibility to happen. When you first woke up in teyvat you just wanted to adventure and find out the true nature of your fav game, but alas that is what every imposter chasing begins... you ran from all of the different nations each and every minute u get the chance... but unfortunately for you. you have finally been captured by the damn anemo archon. A pair of shoes were Infront of you. the Geo archon... rex lapis stand Infront of you, he had the face of disgust. Ei the electro archon was besides him aswell as the anemo archon Barbatos. they were giving a speech on what will happen to you.. you were... gonna die. No... NO! you weren't gonna die! not yet! you still have a future, a goal, a dream! u cant die not now.. no no no no!! tears swell in your eyes, you cant... but you are now absolutely weak. You are just a mere mortal in the end of the day. "as the punishment by stealing our graces face you shall be beheaded!" venti announced loudly making the mortals and adepti cheer in excitement. didn't you fucking steal your friends face because u were to weak to protect them? and being fucking beheaded! you don't wanna be len kagamin every wednesday!

The shogun stood behind you, her Musou no Hitotachi ready to strike you down. "what are your final words imposter.." fuck fuck, you were really gonna die by dumbasses. you knew u were the creator really, but u didn't know how to control ur powers as u never had time to even relax and find out. but you knew... your child. teyvat was always by your side... they.. were always by your side!

You laughed startling everyone, they were silent as u continue to laugh louder and louder, "y-you" The shogun was shaking with rage how dare you laugh in this damn situation, are u... mocking the creator? tch. As the shogun striked down you shouted. "I WILL NEVER FORGIVE U ALL, I MAY BE FORGOTTEN AND FORGET, BUT NO MATTER WHAT MY CHILD WILL TAKE REVENGE FOR ME! MARK MY-" sliced. splat. thud. golden and starry blood splattered everywhere, to the statue, near some citizens and adepti, the two archons and most especially... the shogun.

Silence. your head rolled infront of the two archons, the archons had a shocked and terrified expression. "a..." screams arised from everyone, they just killed their creator! the archons were stuck in their place... then chaos.

Teyvat began to shake , the ground cracks and thunder struck on the place where u died. the statue of you glowed and came to life, gripping and taking the archons and throwing them all over the place, all elemental regisvine grew in the borders, monsters, hilichurls, abyss mages has began to run rampage and killing people.

all the dead Archons has arised and is taken to battle. Guizhong, the 4 yakshas, nameless bard... and all the dead characters has risen to torment and fight to avange your death.. their dear creator.. screams of terror, cries of sorrow and yelling of apologies, it was just pure chaos.

but.. in the spot on where you were killed, the statue of you was embracing two children.. a boy and a girl, they were sobbing as the statue of you began to crumble and turn to dust... "parent.... dont go..." you children sobbed, they embraced eachother as the chaos continued, you were sleeping in your bed. a dream? u were having a nightmare (name) but it is ok.. so dream away to not worry no more.

a/n: im still new to genshin and the imposter creator au, so sorry if some dont make sense

#➥🌙dreamer.ideas #genshin impact #imposter au #genshin x male reader #genshin x female reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin x nb reader #creator au genshin #sagau

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qqtxt · 2 years ago

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omgomgomg i cant let this thought go help meee but imagine the cliché bad dream trope with txt specifically the one where reader wakes up from a bad dream where the dream version of bf!txt was cheating on them then they wake up and get angry at irl txt lmao (im not really thinking angst but lighthearted and soft hours)

*smacks them awake with a pillow*"WHO IS SHE?!"

Them: 👁👄👁 "Babe I just woke up wdym..."

oh my goodness this is too real. i have done something similar to my bf before and he's really just 💧👁👄👁💧 this made me giggle so i just had to write a little something! I'm still a little stumped with my studies but i really wanted to write something out so this is a bit short and not really proofread! so apologies in advance but i do hope it's okay! 💖

[🌸] bitter dream, sweet reality w/ txt

✿ pairing: ot5 x reader / fluff, crack 🌸🤡 / idol!txt / non.idol!you / soobin and yeonjun get roasted for nothing ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 400 words for each member / altogether, word count: 1,591 words ✿ in which you dreamt that he cheated on you and you smack their face with a pillow [masterlist 🌸] / other members under the cut!

[🐰] soobin soobin lets out a whine when he feels a smack to the face. as he opens his eyes, he flinches when he notices you're already looking at him with a frown on your face. the worry overtakes him too quickly as he sits up, hands to your shoulders, "hey... you okay?"

"how can you ask that when you did what you did?" you mutter under your breath, looking away from him with a huff. he gapes, blinking a couple of times to recuperate.

"i-i just–what did i–"

"you cheated on me. in my dream. you suck."

initially, soobin's stumped. listening to your words, he was ready to apologise until he realises that–"wait, in your dream? i cheated? on you?" he chuckles when the words sink in, and he watches how you cross your arms in front of your chest. "you can't be serious, right? why would i ever cheat on you?"

when you press your lips to a thin line and refuse to look at him, he takes it as his cue to–"ah..." he hums softly, relenting as he wraps his arms around you. it was easy enough to curl you in given that he makes use of his figure; effectively nudging you towards him and engulfing you in his embrace. "i apologise on behalf of dream soobin, but real life soobin won't ever do that," he gives you a gentle shake, "hm?"

"hm," you nod, putting your arms around him to snuggle closer towards him. sure, you might've hit soobin in the face with the pillow but the way he's able to hug you like this might've been all the more worth it as he smiles into the side of your face like a hopeless romantic.

[🦊] yeonjun yeonjun nearly falls off the bed as he comes to wake from the hit to the face. he can't quite believe he's woken up just from a hit but when he snaps his eyes open and turns to the side, he's a mumbling fish.

"what?! who? what's going on?" he frantically looks around, and then he spots you sitting up with a pillow in your hands, nearly looking like you're about to squish it to death. "yah..." he murmurs, a hand reaching out to you but his brows furrow when you dodge his touch, "what's wrong?"

"you cheated on me."

his eyes visibly widen as he swallows.

"me? when?"

"in my dream. last night. i don't like you."

he didn't intend to but you make it very, very hard not to smile. the corner of his lips already tug upwards at the thought of you being frustrated at the fact you thought he would cheat on you, or even comprehend that.

"look at me, please?" he tries to reach out to you and this time he manages to put a hand on the pillow you're holding. he tugs at it and you let go of the pillow so he can put it back next to him as he puts his hands in yours to give a squeeze. "c'mon now, the quicker you look at me, the faster we can go back to sleep."

you reluctantly look at him and that's when you see it. the way his eyes look at you with love, overflowing with warmth. the way he's so infatuated with you that he couldn't ever, possibly do it.

"how could i ever cheat on you when i get to look at you look at me like this? do i need to run up to the rooftop to profess my love to you to the entire world? because i would, let me just grab my slippers and–"

you make a noise that crosses between a whine and grumble, squeezing his hands. that alone was enough for yeonjun to be able to get you to lie down next to him as he cuddles you in bed until you fall asleep with a smile on both of your faces.

[🐯] beomgyu beomgyu merely groans at the soft plush feeling he feels on his face. he doesn't bother opening his eyes, only reaching out blindly until he hooks his arm around what feels like your waist and he pulls. he whines a little when you don't oblige it makes him peel one eye open to see you frowning at him. instinctively, he shrugs it off and shifts closer towards you instead, nuzzling against the side of your arm, "what time is it? it still looks dark to be awake..."

when he doesn't hear a response, he huffs and opens his eyes, now noticing the way you're still frowning.

"nawh... what's wrong? can't sleep?"

"i was peacefully sleeping until you decided to cheat on me in my dream."

his first instinct is to laugh, then drag poor, innocent yeonjun into this.

"the day i ever cheat on you is the day that yeonjun-hyung turns into a bird,"

"..."

"...okay, not funny. but look at me," he sits up on his elbows, turning to look at you properly even though he has crust in his eyes and he looks like he needs to sleep for another year and a half. "i'm so hopelessly in love with you that i still feel like i don't see you enough,"

"i'm with you every night," you counter, with a scoff of laugh that he holds onto with a grin, "exactly," he nods. "so how can i possibly cheat on you?"

when you don't respond, he knows he's won when he's able to lay back down and lure you into his arms.

"better?" he hums, burying his face in your neck as you cuddle against his chest, as he moulds into your back with a sigh. "better."

[🐿] taehyun taehyun's half-sleepy, half-confused when he wakes up from the fluff of a pillow that greets him awake. it takes him a while to process that okay, i'm awake and to notice that oh, you're the one who woke me up when he notices the pillow in your hands, a frown etched to your lips, brows furrowed. he sighs and sits up, tilting his head at you, "can't sleep?"

you keep silent, fidgeting with the pillow that taehyun shakes his head.

"c'mon, pretty thing. i can't help unless you tell me what's wrong," he shifts a little closer, placing a hand on top of yours, lifting his brows just a little on instinct, "hm?"

he sees how your features change in the dark and he shouldn't laugh but he does when you're all pouty and sulky.

"you're a cheater, kang taehyun."

"me?" he snorts, giving your hands a squeeze, "since when?"

"since last night, in my dream."

you watch as your words seep into his brain, and it shows on his face when his lips turn from an 'o' to a small smile.

"that's not fair, now is it? i can't control dream taehyun, but at least i can control real-life taehyun," he moves to wedge his hand between yours and grips onto one of it, his thumb brushing the back of your hand, "and real-life taehyun would never do that to you."

"promise?" you know you sound childish, maybe even a little irrational but it's the way taehyun nods with such firmness and genuity, even locking pinkies with you that makes you feel at ease, "promise."

[🐧] kai kai is the definition of clueless and flustered upon being smacked to wake with a pillow to the face. though, he's surprisingly not as panicky as imagined when he sits up with a sharp intake of breath, eyes rapidly blinking as he adjusts to the darkness of the room and calls for your name softly.

"are you okay?" he mutters, rubbing his eyes as he sits up, half-lidded.

"no, because you," with another pillow hit to the chest, he oofs back onto the bed despite trying to sit up, "cheated on me."

he remains laying down on the bed, moving his hand from his eyes with a chuckle.

"what's so funny?" you huff, nudging him with your weapon (pillow).

"me cheating on you is like saying soobin-hyung willingly signed a gym membership."

"...do you think this is funny?"

"y/n," he sits up, testing the waters to see if you'd hit him again but when you lower your weapon down, he smiles at you so sweetly, it's making you feel a little guilty for waking him up like this and he's still so sweet to you. "i literally flew back ten hours just so i can be with you for two days before i'd have to leave again. i'd still do it again and again because i love you so much. do you think i'd cheat on you?"

"then why'd you cheat on me in my dream?"

he shrugs, "i can't answer that. that's not me."

when you don't say anything, he sighs and peels the pillow from your hands so he can place it back on the bed. then, he crawls over to you, wrapping his arms around you to carefully lure you back to where you belong; in his arms, side by side in bed.

"you don't actually think i'll cheat on you, do you?" he murmurs, rubbing your stomach as he hooks his chin on your shoulder.

you shake your head and lean back to his touch, "no, but it felt real. and i didn't like that feeling..."

"mm..." he hums, "that doesn't sound like it feels nice. but do you feel a bit better now?"

you nod, lapping your hands over his as your eyes close, "yeah, much better now."

#txt reactions #txt reaction #txt scenarios #txt scenario #txt x you #txt x reader #choi soobin #soobin scenarios #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu scenarios #taehyun scenarios #taehyun x you #huening kai scenarios #huening kai x you

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st-kitten · 11 months ago

Text

707 pt.3

← previous chapter christmas special

A/N: um... i've got two small special effects for this part, sooooo see if u can use them at the right moment :")

WARNINGS: trauma, implied death by accident, a good cry honestly, violence (intended IM A GIRLS GIRL BUT SOME THINGS ARE OKA-), that shlong, sloppenheimer (kidding: oral sex, both receiving), age gap (newsflash 😒) (reader is obv 20+ and toji is idk 38?)

"can we call y/n? for cake?" asked megumi.

"i'm not sure she wants to see anybody today, kid," replied a distressed toji

"but it's my birthday..."

toji couldn't resist megumi's puppy eyes. but he figured that if there was anyone you'd listen to, it would be him. it was worth a try.

both of them stepped out of their apartment, hearing music coming from your apartment. toji felt his breath returning to his lungs. music meant you were okay. or at least alive. your singing got clearer as the two of them stood outside your door. he tried knocking but it was left unanswered. toji wondered whether it was just a recording playing, so he pressed his ear on the door. no, that's definitely her. open the fucking door, y/n!

all toji had as a sign that you were inside were was you were singing.

[mention: easy on me, by adele, again for the lyrics ft.]

"i know there is hope in these waters..." is she crying?

"but I can't bring myself to swim, when i am drowning in this silence..." your voice croaked in the end. she's definitely crying. what the fuck did i do...

toji looked around the lobby. seeing it empty, he grabbed your doorknob and pressed hard on it, tearing it apart, breaking it. he gave it to megumi. he barged inside your barely lit, dark living room, only to find you sitting on the floor, head against the sofa, looking at the ceiling. broken glasses and torn papers surrounded you as you sang at the top of your lungs, voice overcome with some kind of pain that toji couldn't understand, but just feel.

"you can't deny how hard I've tried i changed who I was to put you both first but now I give up..."

"i was still a child..."

"so go eas-" hearing the door blast open, you stopped, whipping your head in its direction.

you were about to bark at toji when you saw the look on his face. fear... then you saw megumi, holding your doorknob, standing behind his father.

toji saw your grief-stricken face. the haunting melody of whatever heart-wrenching song you were singing still echoed in his ears, reaching out from the walls like a desperate cry for help. your disheveled hair clung to your face, a stark contrast to the carefree spirit that used to reside next door.

"w-what are you d-"

"what happened?"

toji treaded carefully around the broken glass, telling megumi to wait where he stood. he knelt down beside you, pushing away the small shards.

you sat there, too horrified to say anything. why is he here? a small shaky breath left your mouth, the rest bubbling up like lava, ready to erupt.

"i don't know what i did baby, but i'm sorr-" toji's apology went unheard as tears streamed down your face and a cry tore through the air like a wounded animal's howl. it was guttural, unrestrained, and laced with a pain so visceral that toji felt it in his bones. the sound wasn't pretty; it was raw and unfiltered, like the ugly side of life laid bare for anyone in earshot.

without a second thought, toji enveloped you in a tight embrace, pulling your trembling shoulders into him. he sat on the floor next to you, one leg folded down and the other tucked to his chest. he felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine as you sobbed into him.

"it's okay..." was all he could say. even he knew that it wasn't about fixing everything; it was about being there in whatever storm was raining down on you. he looked at megumi, unsure about how his son would take seeing you break down. the child stood a silent witness to all of it, his eyes glistening slightly.

"why is it okay?" you muttered. "for parents to be your first bullies..."

"what... stopped them," you sniffled, "from just listening to me?"

toji held onto every word that came out of your mouth. a part of him was relieved that this wasn't about him.

"i didn't want a fucking cake... i didn't want a cake, i just wanted them..." your breath hitched.

"you spend half of your life raising a child in the cruelest way... your last words to each other end up being an argument and... your last words to me were nothing..."

toji felt a knot in his stomach. he watched megumi leave and go back to their apartment. he was torn between his kid, disturbed on the eve of his birthday and the woman he was cradling, on her birthday...

as the echoes of your cry faded, they left behind a heavy, oppressive silence. only your shaky breath could be heard. he sat beside you, his eyes searching for the right words as you wiped away the tears that had traced down your cheeks.

"birthdays are supposed to be happy, ya know..." he whispered to you, as gently as he could. as if the wrong words would shatter you.

"they're also supposed to be spent with family apparently..." you said, gritting your teeth. toji didn't know what to say... he wanted so desperately to talk to her. but how do you even say something at a time like that?

megumi's small steps echoed in your living room. both of you looked at him. you felt like bawling your eyes out and toji simply smiled at his son.

megumi carried a small plate with a loaf of bread sitting atop, two tiny candles buried in it, their flames flickering in the dark room. he stood in front of you, holding out the plate to you with his tiny hands.

you held the plate, placing your hands on his. you glanced at the clock, which was seconds away from midnight. you blew one candle, covering the other with your palm. and when the clock struck 12, megumi blew the other candle out.

"happy birthday, gumi," you put the plate down and hugged him. he wrapped his tiny hands around you, resting his head on your shoulder. "happy birthday, y/n," he said softly.

hours passed by as you talked to toji about your unforeseen disappearance. megumi had fallen asleep in your lap and you stroked his head. you told him about your 13th birthday, your parents death in a car crash... you left some things off the conversation. oh, how toji felt each word you said. he knew how ruthless families could be. his own was never kind to him. he told you about his scar in return, and how he felt insecure about it.

"it's kinda hot, if you ask me." seemed like you were back to being your normal self.

toji smirked. "i know. you wouldn't stop kissing it last night."

you smacked his chest with the back of your hand. but it brought you two to that conversation. toji wanted it off his chest.

"i like ya."

you looked at him, taking a shallow breath.

"not just 'cause we made out yesterday. i'm the worst person to talk about feelings and shit to, but... i got 'em. for you." toji was done with it. he didn't want to stretch it any further. not after the day you'd had.

you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, "sit with it for a while. ya don't need to answer me right now."

toji picked megumi up from your lap, carrying him in his arms. he pressed a soft, patient kiss to your lips. "belated happy birthday," he said against your lips, got up and left, leaving a large hole in your door.

[ambient song y/n might vibe to: jeene mein aaye maza, by ankur tiwari]

you wandered aimlessly in the convenience store, picking up things and putting them back where they didn't belong. you circled the whole store thrice until the cashier asked you if something was wrong. paying for cheap beer and rice crackers you didn't even want, you left the store.

you walked home in the evening, head in the clouds. (a cloud shaped like toji)

he liked you. his words hammered in your mind like construction workers at the crack of dawn. girls usually felt giddy after hearing a boy confess to them. the fuck were you feeling? and why was it some kind of diarrhoea? you mind went back to how you'd kissed and how good it felt. there was no doubt that you found him attractive. you liked spending time with him. but did you like him? what even would you do if you did? date him? be his girlfriend? mother to his child? how did one go about dating an older man? if anything, he'd end up with another child.

you walked by a park, watching children playing (mostly falling), building sandcastles in the pit (and falling on them), running around chasing nothing (and falling), scurrying into their parents' arms (guess what).

did you want to be that to megumi? because being with toji meant being with megumi and being responsible for him.

you sat down on the pavement, sipping on beer that tasted like toothpaste, pondering over what kind of life you'd build for yourself. you were not interested in hook up culture. committed relationships were made to sound like life imprisonment sentences. the titles didn't apply to you and especially him. what would being with toji even look like? once your little quinn project comes to an end, what then? would he grab the cash and bolt? would he stay? would he stay anyway?

the more you sat and thought about it, the more things blurred. you thought it best not to overthink it. he did tell you to not rush an answer. but you were not the most patient of all people. the one thing you disliked was how things get awkward every time someone confesses their feelings out of the blue and the other has to be the dealbreaker.

you decided to do the rest of the thinking at home. the city was twinkling with christmas lights and decorations. it was always a wonderful sight to see. it made you want to travel to a quaint countryside only to realise your long lost love for the holiday season and family values as you broke into song about reuniting with your childh-yes, that hallmark movie.

when you entered through the gate to your building, you spotted megumi near the postboxes. a very uncomfortable megumi... in the arms of a woman you'd never seen. she looked rich. fur coat, pradas, sunglasses that covered her whole face like a covid shield. megumi so didn't want to be held like that. your gaze fell on toji, who... drumroll... had the exact same expression as his kid. as you walked in that direction you could hear the conversation.

"he likes me, don't you think?" PLEASE that's what rich people sound like?

"just put him down," toji sighed.

"no, i'm gonna steal him!!!" she giggled, shoving her face into megumi. he flinched and pushed himself away from her.

"aww, he's so playful... toji, why don't you invite me over for a drink?"

megumi wiggled like a worm in her arms, trying to escape her grip. he twisted like a pretzel until she had to put him down. but she held onto his hand tightly. that didn't go unnoticed by toji who was growing angrier every passing minute.

"come on... it'll be fun," she sneered.

"i gotta look after my kid." that was all he said.

"i'm sure he won't mind... right meggy? you'll let daddy and i play for a while, right?" megumi tried to pry her hands off, but she tugged at him harshly.

suddenly, all the diarrhoea made sense. the blur cleared. your eyes narrowed as you observed the audacious scene unfolding before you. something in your head snapped and you took purposeful steps towards her, and offensive gaze locked, devoid of any remorse.

swatting her hand off of megumi's, you put the kid behind you protectively. in a millisecond, your hand swung with conscious thought, as you smashed the beer bottle on her head. the glass shattered on her scalp, cutting through the background noise like a warning shot.

"not. your. kid."

caught between shock and appreciation for your sudden defence, toji covered his curled mouth with his palm. he looked at megumi, who stood behind you, holding the ends of your jacket. the kid looked back at his father, smirking mischievously. toji turned his cackling laughter into an asthmatic cough.

the woman couldn't take a hint even when it hit her in the skull.

"who do you think you are?"

"how dare you hit me? do you know who i am?"

"i'm talking to you!!! hello!!!??"

you let her run her mouth. you weren't interested in what she had to say. you looked down at megumi. you could see the faint red strip that circled his wrist. you knew how manipulative it was to use toji's kid as a means to get to him. you already befell his threat. but you understood it all of a sudden.

the honest urge to protect your kid.

the woman eventually stomped and left, mouthing cuss words at passersby.

"so... care to explain what that was?" asked toji, folding his hands, looking at you with fascination.

"my answer," you said with a smile as you held megumi's little hand, rubbing the back of it with your thumb.

toji smirked proudly.

"what happened here?" asked the building watchman, who heard about the act of violence from others who witnessed it.

"nothing interesting,"

"they're saying you harassed a woman," he was quick to throw an accusing glance at toji.

"nonsense! just some personal drama," you interrupted. "that's the father, this is his son."

"and that's the unholy spirit..." toji mumbled to the guard, earning a death glare from you.

the three of you walked towards the elevator. you handed megumi the rice crackers you bought and he wasted no time in digging in. toji put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer as he whispered in your ear, "what does a fella like me have to do to see you smash another bottle again?"

"flirt with another woman and i'll gladly smash one on your head."

toji's deep chuckle vibrated in your ear.

megumi dragged you inside their house to show you his new sketches. he'd really outdone himself. he'd also made his father hang all the small drawings on the christmas tree they had in their living room. toji was glad that he'd found something to occupy himself with. not that he didn't want to spend time with the kid, but seeing him not get overly attached to a single parent relieved the giant weight on his shoulders.

"mmm! gumi, i have a gift for you."

megumi trotted to you like a puppy, eyes twinkling like stars.

"you're gonna spoil him."

"correct."

you gave him a cd. "i wrote you a song." megumi clutched the cd like a prized trophy. he opened the case and showed his father the cd. you'd chased down your producer's sales guy to put one of megumi's sketches as the cd cover.

"when did you even have time to do this?"

"last night. and today morning."

"you didn't sleep?"

you looked away from him, perfectly expecting a fatherly scolding. instead, toji just chortled. he left megumi to listen to your song on a loop as the two of you went to your apartment. (sorry megs, but this is a toji x y/n)

you closed the door, swearing that the hole where your doorknob used to be was getting bigger by each minute. not a moment later, toji had his arms wrapped around you, his mouth on yours. you dropped the grocery bags on the floor and threw your hands around his neck. bumping into nearly every piece of furniture along the way, you sauntered into your room, lips glued to each other. he kissed you like it was the last thing he could do in the world and you kissed him like it was the first thing you wanted to do before anything else.

"mmm... hold on," toji pulled away momentarily and said, "promise me one thing."

"what?"

"you don't disappear when shit hits the fan. you come talk to me."

you felt guilt churn inside you, recalling how you'd left toji and megumi to wonder what 'they' had done wrong to make you go distant.

you nodded. "i promise."

toji held you in his arms for a while, taking a look at your face. he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and you winced.

"ow! careful, i just got my ear pierced."

toji raised his eyebrows. he pushed your hair aside and saw a helix piercing, the edge of your ear pink and slightly swollen.

"that looks like it hurt."

"oh, it did."

"then why'd ya get it?"

"i always get piercings on my birthday."

"why?" toji honestly didn't understand this form of self-harm.

"what can i say, buddy, i love getting stabbed..." you said plainly, backing away and took your shoes off.

toji snorted a laugh at your comment. "masochist."

"aww, big man uses big words now..." you said, keeping your shoes under your bed. toji simply slapped your ass.

"sadist."

"by the way, i added some background noises to our recording. it sounds so good!"

"oh? let's hear it then," said toji, sitting down on your bed. he was glad to see you be your usual confident self. last night had him tensed with worry. even though he wasn't the source of your pain, he couldn't imagine how lonely you must've felt spending your birthday crying as life wickedly toasted to your parent's death, scarring the one day you were supposed to own with pride.

you made him listen to some excerpts, but ended up talking over them anyway, excitedly telling him how smartly you had edited some things. he just watched you with a small smile. whenever you turned to face him, his eyes fell on your piercing. he counted how many you had. nine. marking nine years of an anniversary nobody would want to remember like this. four piercings on each ear and one in your nose. did you really need the pain to validate your broken heart? did it make you feel like you deserved it?

he dismissed those thoughts from his head. it was your decision. and you bore it like an ornament, and not a scar. plus, he now that he fully took your face in, he couldn't deny hot incredibly hot those piercings looked on you. the thought of you sitting through that and showing off your piercings made his stomach flip. seriously, how much more hot could you get?

as if to answer his question, your recording played in his ear, some scene at a party with your characters failing to keep their hands to themselves. his voice blended with yours like the perfect duet. the way you spoke, changing your tone, pitch, hell, even your little laugh to suit your character made him feral. he wanted to hear you more. but not for some recording. he wanted to hear you for himself.

the moment the recording ended, toji pounced on you, grabbing your neck, careful not to hurt your ear as he kissed you roughly. you gasped, but melted on the spot. you liked where this was going anyway. toji moved his lips along yours, nibbling at you mouth. he let you catch a breath, before shoving his tongue inside, only for it to hitch again.

he pushed you into your bed, immediately hovering over you. he let his hands run up and down your legs. you hummed under his touch. he felt you shuffle underneath. he pulled away for a moment to watch you sneak your phone out of the pocket, finger pressed on a red dot.

"you wanna give your fans a show, baby?" he murmured.

"nuh uh, this is for me," you panted.

toji smirked. "gotta make this good then..." he peppered kiss on your neck, sucking on your skin. he could smell that god awful coconut perfume. to ease the weight his humongous body dumped on you, he shoved his knee between your legs, hoisting himself over you properly. you practically moaned in his mouth at the feeling of his knee rubbing against you. you had no idea what to do with your hands, so you just let them stay on your stomach lifelessly.

toji broke the kiss once more, chuckling at the whine that escaped from your mouth.

"so needy..." he growled, taking his shirt off with one hand. your jaw hung open as you took him in. the way he towered you even when sitting on his knees made him seem almost... monstrous.

toji only it thought it fair to get rid of your clothes too. he held your waist and pulled you to him, hoisting you on his lap. he took your jacket off, throwing it on the floor.

"be careful with the shirt. it's vivienne westwood."

"strip then."

slowly, taking the sweet time of your life, you pulled the shirt off, turning it right side up and neatly folded it, placing it at the far end of your bed.

"you done, sweetie?" he cooed in your ear.

"done."

"lovely. put your hands to use." he had you folded under him, back on the bed, kisses getting rougher, wetter, messier. you clawed at his shoulder, back, neck, chest, every part of him that you could touch. he licked a particular spot just under your ear that made you mewl in pleasure. like a vampire, toji bit your neck, causing you to moan softly.

his free hand unclasped your bra and tossed it away.

"would it kill you to not throw my clothes here and there?"

"thought you liked it violent, baby..." he murmured in your ear, biting a hickey on your neck. he kept switching between kissing your lips and sucking at your neck while he played with your tits, squeezing them, pinching them, kneading them like dough. he was right. they did fit in his hands perfectly. he latched his mouth onto one, making you squirm under him.

toji was absorbing your body. he felt bold; bold to take what he wanted from you. well, what he wanted was you. your body, your hips, your mouth, all of it. he wanted to show you just how desirable you were to him.

the hand that roamed your waist slowly trailed down your cargo pants. you didn't even realise when he took them off, but it was good anyway. less is more.

at an agonisingly slow pace, the tips of his fingers teased you over your panties. toji took a look at you, covered in his marks, lips pink and swollen.

he chuckled, "just how many of these stupid panties do you have?"

"I FUCKING KNEW IT. PANTY THIEF!" you smacked his abs.

"they're mine now," toji murmured as back away, spreading your legs apart with his hands, grabbing at your thighs. he kissed your inner thigh languorously making his way down to your wet cunt. he took your panties off, once more putting them back in his pockets. he dipped two of is fingers inside slowly, as if he was learning about your body. he watched your every reaction, every quiver, every hitched breath as he took his time and prepped you for himself. he curled his fingers at an optimal spot and like a cat on heat, you mewled and your legs shut tight around his hand.

"uh uh uh, i need these legs wide open, darling." he knew how much you liked it when he said that. when you didn't spread them, he smacked a hard slap on your hip, causing you to gasp and giggle as you did as directed.

"don't be a brat."

"or what?"

toji didn't retort. instead, he dove straight into your cunt, painting your insides with long strokes with his tongue. he paired it with his forefinger running up and down, inside and out, pushing against your clit. hearing you whimper and pant just made him want to tease you. recording all those dirty audios with you had him gain a mind in the game. like an illusionist, his hands disappeared and he pulled away, making you pine for him.

"toji fushiguro, i will smash a bottle on your head if you ever take your mouth off me like that again..." god, you sounded so sexy.

"ya know... it makes my dick hard when you talk to me like that."

you crunched forward and grabbed his hair, pulling him back to your pussy. toji chuckled, resuming eating you out like a man starved for days.

"oh i bet it does," you said breathlessly, throwing a few more slurred taunts his way. toji extended his free hand and shoved two of his fingers in your mouth.

"put that mouth to use, brat." he groaned in pleasure feeling your tongue swirl around his fingers, sucking them, gently biting them whenever he lapped at your cunt the right away. even with his fingers stuffed in your mouth, he could hear your muffled moans loudly. he sped his pace, slipping his fingers in and out of you, lapping at your core. he felt you clench and he took it as an open invitation to increase the pressure. you let out a long, stretched moan as you gushed all over his chin.

"is this what you ladies call girl dinner?" toji took his fingers out of you, licking them and tasting you, smacking his lips.

you laughed, throwing your head back.

"ugh, shut up."

"make me," you commented, practically waltzing into the man's next plan for you. toji's hand wrapped around your throat as he pulled you up as if you weight nothing. he got off the bed, standing in front of you as you were on all fours.

"gladly," toji slid his pants and boxers down, freeing his hard-as-a-rock girth.

"this isn't fair, toji," you cried at the size of it.

"i know, baby..." he gripped your chin with his fingers, nearly crushing your jaw. you looked up at him and seeing you on your knees for him lit a fire within him.

playfully you licked his wet lip like a kitten...

"cute. but that's not gonna cut it, sweetheart."

"i'll have you know i won the popsicle eating contest in my college..."

toji chuckled, holding his cock out to your face and smacked it against your lips. "gonna keep me waitin'?"

you took his head in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, letting the tip run between the faint slit. you bobbed your head a few times, adjusting to his length and width. you'd be grateful to have a jaw left by the time you've sucked him dry. you took his length in your, stroking what you couldn't. you felt his cock twitch and pulsate in your mouth.

"god, you're doing so well..." toji reached forward, accidentally thrusting more of his dick in your mouth, making you whimper. he picked up your phone, which had been recording every lewd sound you made and he held it by his hip. "you sound so... fucking perfect, baby... gagging over my dick like that."

he pushed your hair aside, gripping it tightly as he pushed your head further in, moaning at how good it felt to have you take damn nearly all of him.

"fuck... shit.... s' good" toji let a buffet of grunts and moans spill out of his mouth. first, because he you took him that well, and second because he wanted you to get off to his voice, just like he did to yours. he began thrusting into your mouth faster, feeling his release creeping its way up. had he known how easy it was for him to come just by getting a quick blowjob, he'd have put more work into the foreplay. but fuck, he loved every damn moment of it. how your mouth was wet and warm, how your pointed tongue knew just where to lick, how your cheeks hollowed to pull him in.

"keep going, baby... i'm almost there," he panted, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, hips moving at a brutal pace. his mind went to you eating a popsicle for some reason and he laughed, paving the way for a guttural moan that rumbled through his mouth as he came into your mouth. you closed your eyes, letting the uncomfortable feeling pass away as you managed to swallow the barrel full of cum he just shot into your mouth.

toji pulled out, feeling euphoric. he was completely obsessed with you. he wanted to take your right there. he wanted to be inside you. fuck, he wanted to see how loud you could get for him.

a knock on your main door and a small voice calling out to toji snapped you back to your senses.

"what a cockblock," toji sighed.

you threw a pillow at him. "that's your adorable birthday boy you're talking about!"

toji changed back into his clothes, refusing to give you your panties back, earning another pillow to his face. he looked at you to make sure you still didn't have second thoughts about him. but there you were, effortlessly moving around the room, picking up the pieces of clothing he'd tossed here and there. he loved how much fun you had doing all these things with him. it made the experience twice as much worth it.

you changed into your pyjamas and led toji out of your bedroom.

"does it say 'juicy' on your ass?" he said, reading the glittery text on your pants.

"ya bet it does," you smacked your own ass, proud of your sense of fashion, no matter how ridiculous it was.

"gonna fuck that ass someday."

"fix my door first." you peeked through the hole in your door, looking at the top of megumi's hair.

you opened the door to see megumi standing in his pyjamas, holding his demon dog, yawning.

"awww, sorry for keeping your dad for so long."

megumi yawned again, nodding.

"she sang a song for me too, you know..." said toji, picking up his sleepy kid, giving you a wink. you kicked his ass, making him stagger out of your house.

"good night."

"good night..." you smiled at the two.

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊

TAGLIST: @kaininety2 @ruixrei @chicken-fifi @mrsfush1guro @szillx @queendessi24 @sillysillygoofygoose @shadowmoonlight0604

#forgive me father for i have sinned #toji fushiguro #dad toji #toji #fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x y/n #megumi #juicy pants

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