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creatur3featur3 · 2 days ago

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ੈ✩ Street Rat p4✩ੈ

word count: 8.5K (someone please kill me, my fingers are cramping)

A/N: can yall tell I love making SR and Sevika interact like an old married couple that should've gotten divorced years ago? haha, no? just me? okay-

warnings: descriptions of blood, trauma, implied self harm

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

You weren’t sure why you were so desperate to find Sevika, you didn’t like her like that, you didn’t like her period, but something was tugging at you to look for her.

She had fed you, patched you up many more times than you’d like to admit, helped you at your absolute worst, you felt like you at least owed her the decency to look for her, to worry about her.

You wandered the streets of the Undercity, looking down the quieter alleyways, looking into what you thought were abandoned buildings before getting chased out by random punks.

“And stay out you little Rat!” A woman hissed as you sprinted down the street, panting heavily, not daring to look back before you ran into something, or someone.

You fall to the ground with a soft thud, letting out a quiet ‘oof’ before looking up to see Sevika watching you with keen, amused eyes.

“You just don’t know how to stay out of trouble do you?” She hummed thoughtfully, helping you up with her flesh hand.

She looked different, hair cut shorter, a piercing, and-

Tired.

“You look…” you trailed off, Sevika rolling her eyes slightly before crossing her arms, “different?” She questioned.

“…yeah,” you replied, not the words you were planning to say, but pretty much.

Pretty, that’s what you wanted to say, what sat at the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed the word, clearing your throat awkwardly.

Sevika raised an eyebrow at you, the corner of her mouth twitching with mild amusement. “What are you doing out here?” she asked, her voice low and gravelly. “Shouldn’t you be holed up somewhere safe, minding your own business?”

You dusted yourself off, avoiding her piercing gaze. “I could say the same to you,” you muttered, refusing to admit how relieved you were to see her. “You’ve been gone for… what, weeks? No word, no nothing. People started saying you were dead.”

Sevika snorted, the sound rough and dismissive. “Dead? Do I look dead to you?” She gestured to herself with her metal arm, her new piercing catching the dim light of the Undercity streets.

“No,” you said quietly, glancing her over again. Her sharp features looked harder somehow, the dark circles under her eyes a testament to long nights and rough days. “But you do look… different.”

Sevika’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You already said that,” she pointed out dryly. She stepped back and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her broad chest. “What do you want, kid?”

You faltered, your carefully rehearsed words slipping through your fingers like sand. “I… just wanted to make sure you were okay. You were gone so long, and you’ve… helped me. A lot. I figured I owed you.”

Her expression softened for a brief moment, though she quickly masked it with a grunt. “Didn’t think anyone would notice, let alone care,” she admitted, her tone more subdued.

“Well, I did,” you said firmly, stepping closer. “So? Where the hell have you been?”

“Busy,” she replied vaguely, her gaze flickering away. “Work. Stuff like that.”

“Work?” you pressed, sensing she wasn’t giving you the full truth. “What kind of work?”

Sevika’s jaw clenched, her patience visibly fraying as you kept pushing. “Drop it,” she muttered, her voice sharp enough to cut. But you didn’t—couldn’t.

“You always brush people off like this? Or just me?” you snapped, anger bubbling in your chest. “You disappear for weeks, come back looking like you’ve been through hell, and I’m supposed to just let it go?”

Her glare darkened, the veins in her temple throbbing. “I said drop it!” she barked, the deep growl of her voice reverberating through the alley.

“Why? So you can keep everything bottled up until it kills you?” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, your frustration overriding your common sense. “Maybe I care, Sevika! Ever think of that?”

Her flesh hand clenched into a fist, her whole body coiled like a spring about to snap. “Shut up,” she hissed, stepping closer.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t stop. “You act like you don’t need anyone, like you can just handle everything alone—”

The swing came faster than you could register. Her metal fist didn’t hit you, but her flesh hand did, hard enough to knock you off your feet.

Your back hit the ground with a jarring thud, the metallic taste of blood flooding your mouth as you felt your nose start to bleed. For a moment, the world blurred, the pounding in your head drowning out everything else.

When your vision cleared, you looked up at her, hand pressed against your nose. Her expression wasn’t triumphant, or even angry anymore.

It was horrified.

She froze, her lips slightly parted as her gaze locked on yours. And there it was: fear. In your eyes, wide and scared, as if she’d morphed into a monster right in front of you.

It was like she was seeing it for the first time, and it shattered something deep inside her.

“I didn’t mean to…” she muttered, her voice trembling, barely audible.

You scrambled to your feet, keeping a cautious distance, your heart hammering in your chest. “You… you fucking hit me,” you stammered, wiping at the blood trickling from your nose.

Sevika didn’t say anything. She just stared at her hand, the one that struck you, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“Is this what you are now?” you asked, your voice wavering. “I come out here, looking your to make sure you're okay and not dead in a ditch- and you… ”

Her head snapped up, the guilt etched deep into her features. “No,” she said hoarsely, taking a step back. “I… I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t thinking?” you finished for her, your anger and hurt clashing violently in your chest. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words sounding foreign and unnatural coming from her lips.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the tension thick and suffocating. You wanted to scream, to demand answers, but the look on her face silenced you.

“I shouldn’t have come looking for you,” you muttered, stepping back further. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

She didn’t stop you as you turned to leave, but her voice followed you, quiet and broken. “Wait.”

You didn’t.

–

Stupid.

Your balled fist hit against your head again, you knew better, knew better than to trust anyone, to rely on anyone, it was your own damn fault you were in this mess.

stupid.

Sevika had even warned you, told you to leave her alone, that you weren't going to be safe, that you were just going to get yourself hurt again.

stupid.

You staggered down the empty street, your own ragged breaths and muffled sniffles the only sounds echoing in the night. The sting of your bleeding nose was nothing compared to the ache in your chest.

Stupid.

Your balled fist hit the side of your head again, harder this time.

You should’ve listened. You should’ve known better. Sevika wasn’t a safe place—she never was. She was a storm, violent and unpredictable, and you were the fool who thought you could stand in the middle of it without getting torn apart.

Stupid.

Another hit to your head, frustration bubbling over into self-directed rage. This was your fault. All of it. You shouldn’t have gone looking for her. You shouldn’t have cared. You shouldn’t have—

You stopped dead in your tracks, leaning against the brick wall of an abandoned building, sliding down until you were crouched on the ground. The weight of it all crashed over you, a suffocating tidal wave of anger and shame.

Sevika warned you. She told you to stay away, told you what would happen. And you, in your desperate, naive need to feel… what? Important? Connected? You ignored her.

Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms as tears pricked at your eyes. You weren’t going to cry. You didn’t deserve to cry.

You tilted your head back, staring up at the polluted sky of the Undercity, the faint glow of lights barely breaking through the haze.

“Stupid,” you muttered again, voice cracking. You wrapped your arms around yourself, squeezing tight, as if trying to hold all your broken pieces together.

This was your mess. Your pain. And you’d deal with it, like you always did. Alone.

That’s what you always did.

Life slipped back into the routine of survival, the kind of existence that didn’t leave room for anything soft or sentimental. The bruises on your face faded, but the ache beneath them stayed, buried deep where no one could see.

You spent your nights fighting in the back alleys for scraps of money, fists flying as blood and sweat mixed with the grime of the Undercity streets. The thrill of it was a distraction, a way to quiet the noise in your head. And when that wasn’t enough, you stole—food, trinkets, anything you could get your hands on.

The people you stole from didn’t matter. Maybe they deserved it; maybe they didn’t. It didn’t make a difference to you. That’s how it was down here—everyone clawing to take what little they could, stepping on anyone who got in their way.

You were no different.

A street rat. That’s all you were, all you ever would be. Not someone’s child, not someone’s friend, not someone’s anything. Rats didn’t belong to anyone—they scurried, they scavenged, and they survived.

And that was enough, wasn’t it?

The thought lingered as you huddled in the corner of a dimly lit alley, clutching a half-eaten loaf of bread you’d swiped earlier. The warmth of it had long since faded, just like everything else.

It was enough. It had to be. Because hope was a luxury for people who didn’t live with dirt under their nails and blood on their hands.

And you didn’t have the luxury of being anything but a rat.

You watched as a group of younger kids giggled and laughed, their voices echoing faintly down the alley as they ran past you. They clutched makeshift toys in their small hands—scraps of wood tied together, a dented tin can, things they’d probably cobbled together themselves.

You frowned, pulling your knees closer to your chest as you sat against the cold, damp wall. They were so loud, so carefree, their laughter grating against the silence you’d grown used to. You should’ve hated them for it, envied the spark of innocence they still had in this pit of a place. But all you felt was an ache.

This wasn’t the world kids like them should be growing up in. They deserved warm homes, full bellies, and safety—not these streets that swallowed people whole. Not this cold, dangerous place where every smile felt borrowed, fleeting.

But that wasn’t the world they got.

Just like it hadn’t been the world you’d gotten.

You shifted, looking down at your battered boots. They weren’t much better off than those kids, you realized. Maybe younger, but not safer. Not really. They didn’t know yet what these streets could do to them, how they could chew them up and spit them out.

And a bitter part of you thought maybe it was better they didn’t.

You sighed, rubbing at your arms to keep the cold from seeping in too much. Those kids weren’t your problem. You didn’t have the energy to care about anyone else. Not anymore.

But as one of the kids tripped and fell, scraping their knee, you found yourself moving before you could think.

You stood, walking toward them slowly. The little boy sat there sniffling, trying to hold back tears as the others circled him, unsure of what to do.

“You good, kid?” you asked, your voice low and gruff, startling them.

The boy looked up at you, wide-eyed, his lip trembling. “I-I’m fine,” he mumbled, clearly lying.

You crouched down in front of him, your gaze softening despite yourself. “Lemme see.”

He hesitated, then reluctantly showed you his scraped knee, blood trickling down his skinny leg. It wasn’t anything serious, but it was enough to sting.

“Hang tight,” you said, pulling a strip of cloth from your pocket. You wrapped it around his knee with surprising gentleness, tying it off. “There. Good as new.”

The boy blinked up at you, his tears slowing as he gave a small, hesitant smile. “Thanks…”

You stood up, brushing your hands off on your pants. “Don’t mention it.”

As you walked away, you could hear them whispering behind you, their voices filled with wonder.

“Who was that?”

“Dunno, but they’re cool!”

You shook your head, shoving your hands deep into your pockets as you disappeared down another alley.

“Stupid,” you muttered under your breath again, the word sticking to your tongue like tar. You weren’t supposed to care.

But you did.

You found yourself helping out the smaller people, not necessarily kids or older people but people who were like you, desperate, barely scraping by..

It started small—handing off scraps of food you didn’t need, pointing someone toward a safer place to sleep, helping a desperate soul avoid a fight they couldn’t win. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that you weren’t trying to be anything to anyone. But somewhere along the way, people started noticing.

Not the big players in the Undercity, of course. They didn’t care about people like you, scraping by on crumbs. But the smaller people—the desperate ones, the ones who lived and died in the shadows—they noticed.

And then came the kids.

You didn’t know when it happened, but suddenly, there was always a small cluster of them following you around. Wide-eyed and full of questions, they trailed behind like ducklings, giggling and whispering to each other.

“Is it true you beat up three guys at once last week?” one of them asked, his eyes shining with admiration.

“No, it was five,” another kid chimed in, puffing up his chest like he’d seen you do once. “I heard they were twice as big as you, too!”

You snorted, shaking your head as you walked. “It was one guy, and he was drunk off his ass. Hardly a fair fight.”

But they didn’t care about the truth. To them, you were a legend—someone who fought back against the unfairness of the Undercity and lived to tell the tale.

“What’s it like being the coolest person in the Undercity?” one of the youngest kids asked, skipping alongside you with a toothy grin.

“Dunno,” you replied with a smirk, ruffling his messy hair. “You tell me when you meet them.”

That earned a chorus of laughter, and for a moment, you forgot about the cold and the hunger and the weight that constantly pressed on your shoulders. For a moment, it felt… good.

But then the reality of it all crept back in. You weren’t a hero. You weren’t even a good person. You were just a rat, doing what rats did best: surviving.

Still, when one of the kids tugged on your sleeve and asked if you’d show them how to throw a proper punch, you sighed and crouched down, holding out your hands to demonstrate.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, your tone gruff but not unkind. “If you’re gonna do it, do it right. Thumb outside the fist, or you’ll break it on the first swing.”

The kids watched you with rapt attention, mimicking your movements, their laughter filling the air.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That you were just killing time.

But deep down, you knew better.

“Do you know Sevika?” one little girl asked, her eyes shining bright with curiosity.

The question hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you froze. The little girl stared up at you with wide, curious eyes, her excitement barely contained.

“Sevika?” you repeated, forcing your voice to stay steady as your stomach twisted itself into knots. “What makes you ask that?”

The girl shrugged, clutching a worn doll tightly to her chest. “Some people said you’re like her. Tough and strong. That you help people like she used to.”

Your chest tightened, and you fought to keep your expression neutral. “I don’t know about that,” you muttered, looking away.

You wanted to lie, to say you didn’t know who Sevika was, to brush it off like it meant nothing. But you couldn’t. Her name alone brought everything rushing back—the nights you spent following her, trying to understand why you cared so much, why she mattered to you.

And how it all came crashing down the moment she showed you exactly who she was.

“Did she help you too?” the girl asked innocently, her voice tugging at something raw and vulnerable inside you.

You swallowed hard, your fists clenching at your sides. “Not in the way you think,” you said quietly.

The kids around you fell silent, sensing the shift in your mood. Even the little girl seemed to understand she’d touched on something she shouldn’t have.

“Forget about Sevika,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “She’s not someone you want to be like.”

The girl frowned, her grip on her doll tightening. “But I thought she was a hero.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “She’s no hero. And neither am I.”

The words tasted sour on your tongue, and you hated how much truth they held. You turned away, pretending to adjust the wrappings on your hands, anything to avoid their questioning eyes.

“Let’s get moving,” you said gruffly, motioning for them to follow. “It’s not safe to stand around here.”

As the kids fell into step behind you, their chatter picking up again, you tried to push the thoughts of Sevika out of your head. But her name lingered like a ghost, haunting you with every step you took.

—

You hated it. The way your chest only loosened when you saw those kids step inside their makeshift homes, doors closing behind them, locking out the dangers of the Undercity—for now.

You hated the way your ears strained for any sign of trouble, ready to step in, ready to fight, even when you told yourself you wouldn’t.

You weren’t a hero. You weren’t a savior. Hell, if that little girl had asked about Sevika again, you might’ve snapped at her, might’ve said something cruel enough to shut her up for good.

Not that you actually would’ve hurt her. You weren’t that far gone—yet.

But it made you sick, the thought of anyone seeing you as something good. Someone to look up to. You were no one’s safety, no one’s home, no one’s hero. You were just—you.

A street rat. A survivor.

And survivors didn’t make promises. They didn’t stick around.

Still, as you stood alone in the dim light of the alley, you couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Just to be sure.

“I never thought I’d see you go soft,” a voice piped up, making you turn around, body tensing almost immediately as you looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice.

That’s when you saw her again-

Sevika.

The woman who had taken you in more or less, taken care of you, made sure you knew when and where not to go.

Just for her to rip it all away in one night.

Your breath caught in your throat, muscles coiling tight as your eyes locked onto her.

Sevika.

She leaned casually against the brick wall, her metal arm glinting faintly in the dim light. Her short hair framed her sharp features, and that same unreadable expression lingered on her face—the one that always made it impossible to tell if she was amused or annoyed.

She looked exactly like you remembered. And yet, somehow, worse. Tired. Hardened. But no less dangerous.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady even as your pulse hammered in your ears. “What the hell do you want?”

Her lips twitched, just barely hinting at a smirk. “Relax. I’m not here to pick a fight.”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest as if that would somehow shield you from the weight of her presence. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Sevika pushed off the wall, taking a slow step closer. It wasn’t a threat, not exactly—but it didn’t feel safe either. “I was just passing through,” she said, her voice low, gravelly. “Didn’t expect to find you playing babysitter.”

Your jaw tightened. “I’m not playing anything.”

“No?” Her gaze flicked toward the alley where the kids had disappeared, then back to you. “Sure looks like it.”

Your fingers twitched, itching for a weapon—something to hold between you and her. Not because you thought she’d attack. But because you didn’t trust yourself not to let her get under your skin. Not again.

“Why are you here, Sevika?” you asked, cutting through the tension with as much venom as you could muster. “Last I checked, you were done with me.”

Her expression shifted, something almost like regret flashing in her eyes before it was gone, buried under that cold exterior. “You wouldn’t let it go,” she said quietly. “I told you to stay away. Told you it’d get you hurt.”

You took a step forward, the anger that had been simmering for months finally bubbling over. “And you think this is better?” you snapped, gesturing at the empty alley, at the scraps of a life you’d been barely holding together. “You think walking away without a word—without even explaining—was better?”

Sevika didn’t flinch, but her jaw set tightly. “It was the only way to keep you safe.”

“Bullshit.”

Your voice echoed off the walls, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, staring each other down like opponents waiting for the first punch to land.

But it never did.

Instead, Sevika let out a breath, her shoulders sagging just slightly. “You don’t get it,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “You never did.”

And maybe you didn’t. Maybe you never would.

But as much as you hated her—hated what she’d done, how she’d left—you hated the way her words still made your heart ache even more.

“No,” you snapped, making Sevika's eyes narrow slightly.

“You don’t get it, do you know how much I’ve been risking nowadays? Giving away my hard earned food, taking care of kids that aren’t mine, teaching them how to protect themselves, using my supplies to cover up scrapes and cuts. I have these horrible fucking dreams Sevika, horrible horrible dreams, every time a lay down my head to rest or even just to let it relax all I can fucking hear is screaming. My sisters crying while they burned alive, my mother calling out to me like she knew what was happening. Do you ever hear that? Do you have to deal with that day in and day out?”

Sevika was tense, not meeting your eyes as you continued on.

“Do you ever hear them?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The words poured out, raw and unfiltered, the dam you’d built up for so long finally breaking. “Do you have to deal with that day in and day out, Sevika? Because I do. Every fucking day.”

Sevika stayed silent, her gaze fixed on the ground. Her jaw was clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitch, but she didn’t interrupt. She just stood there, her shoulders stiff, her hands twitching at her sides.

“I try to forget,” you continued, your voice rising with every word. “I try to drown it out with fights, with work, with anything. But it never goes away. And then you come along, acting like you’re doing me a favor by walking away? Like leaving me behind was some kind of mercy?”

You laughed bitterly, the sound echoing hollowly in the empty alley. “You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to act like you know what’s best for me.”

Sevika’s head snapped up at that, her eyes sharp and stormy as they locked onto yours. “And you think you’re better off with me?” she growled, the edge in her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “You think sticking around me would’ve made your life easier? Safer?”

“I don’t know, Sevika!” you shot back, your fists clenching. “But you don’t get to rip everything away without even giving me a choice! You don’t get to decide I’m not worth the risk!”

The words hung heavy in the air, both of you breathing hard, the weight of the conversation pressing down like a storm ready to break.

Sevika looked at you, really looked at you, and for a moment, you thought you saw something crack in her cold, impenetrable armor. Something vulnerable, something almost human.

“You don’t understand,” she said finally, her voice quieter, almost hoarse. “It’s not about you not being worth it. It’s about me… not being enough.”

Her words stunned you, the anger in your chest wavering for just a moment.

“You think I don’t care?” she continued, her gaze hard but her voice trembling just slightly. “You think I don’t hear the screams, too? That I don’t see the faces of the people I couldn’t save, the ones I left behind? I walk through hell every day, just like you. The difference is, I made my peace with it a long time ago. I don’t deserve peace. I don’t deserve…”

Her voice trailed off, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

You didn’t know whether to scream at her or cry. Instead, you took a step closer, your voice softer but no less determined.

“And you think I don’t feel the same?” you asked, your tone low and raw. “You think I don’t carry that same weight? That same guilt? You don’t get to decide what I deserve, Sevika. You don’t get to decide for me.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Sevika didn’t have a response. She just stood there, staring at you with something unreadable in her eyes, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until finally, Sevika let out a long, shaky breath.

“You’re a stubborn little shit,” she muttered, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice steadier now. “And you’re a coward.”

Her smirk faltered, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she took a step back, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she turned away.

“Get some rest,” she said over her shoulder, her voice gruff but softer than before. “You’re no good to anyone running on empty.”

But the weight of her presence lingered, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like the cracks in your armor weren’t just breaking you apart—they were letting something in.

You hated that you wanted to call out to hear, to tell her to wait, to ask her to stay with you- you shouldn't.

“Sevika?” Your voice was soft, unsure, but Sevika looked back at you, raising an eyebrow in response.

You should've said never mind, or Don't get hurt without me, but against your better judgement–

“Do you–” god this was pathetic, “have anything to do tonight..?”

Sevika stopped mid-step, her broad frame outlined by the dim glow of the streetlamp. She turned her head slightly, her eyebrow still raised, but her expression unreadable.

You wanted to shrink back, to swallow the words, to act like you hadn’t said anything. But it was too late. They hung in the air, vulnerable and raw, impossible to take back.

“Do I have anything to do tonight?” she repeated, her voice low and measured, as if trying to make sense of your question.

You shifted on your feet, suddenly regretting every choice that had led you to this moment. “Forget it,” you muttered, looking down at the cracked pavement. “It’s stupid.”

Sevika didn’t move for a moment, her silence stretching out uncomfortably. Then, with a quiet sigh, she turned fully to face you, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t have time for games, kid,” she said, her tone sharper now. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

You bit your lip, weighing your options. You could shut up, let her walk away, and go back to your miserable little routine. Or you could take the risk—the one that had been gnawing at you since the moment you saw her again.

“Do you… want to get a drink?” you finally blurted out, your voice cracking slightly at the end. “Or—something. I don’t know. Just… talk?”

Her eyebrows shot up, and for a second, you thought she might laugh in your face. But instead, she studied you, her gaze sharp and calculating, as though she were trying to decide if this was some kind of trap.

“You want to talk,” she said slowly, her voice laced with disbelief.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. I mean… we never did, right? Not really.”

Sevika tilted her head, her metal fingers drumming against her arm as she considered you. Finally, she let out a low chuckle—more of a breath than a laugh—and shook her head.

“You’re full of surprises,” she muttered.

“So… is that a yes?” you pressed, trying not to sound too hopeful.

She hesitated, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small shrug, she nodded toward a dimly lit bar at the end of the street.

“Fine,” she said gruffly. “One drink. Don’t make me regret it.”

You felt your chest loosen, the tension easing just slightly as you nodded and fell into step beside her.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

—

You weren’t sure why you found yourself sitting down at a bar with Sevika, trying to avoid talking to her by slowly drinking your vodka, the liquid burning your throat as you swallowed.

You let out a soft groan, nose scrunching at the burning sensation that you couldn’t get rid of as quickly as you’d hope.

“So,” Sevika hummed, setting down her cup as she cleared her throat, the rough sound catching your attention mid-swallow. “You never really talk about yourself, well you do, a lot actually—“ she corrects herself, making you chuckle softly as you set your own cup down.

“I mean more so where you came from,” Sevika muttered, resting her flesh forearm on the counter, “you don’t scream ‘Hey I was born in the Undercity’ like most of us.”

You paused, staring into the bottom of your glass before swirling what little liquid was left inside. Sevika’s words echoed in your head, her observation cutting deeper than you cared to admit.

“Does it matter?” you finally muttered, your voice quieter than you intended.

Sevika leaned in slightly, resting her elbow on the bar as her eyes stayed locked on you. “If it didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked,” she replied.

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or suspicious.”

She smirked, but there was something softer behind it. “Maybe both.”

You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t get out of this without saying something real—something you hadn’t shared with anyone in a long time.

“I wasn’t born here,” you admitted, shifting uncomfortably on the barstool. “Not in the Undercity, at least.”

Sevika didn’t say anything, but the flicker of curiosity in her eyes told you she was listening.

“My family… we lived closer to the surface. Not Piltover exactly, but better off than here.” You paused, fingers tightening around the glass. “It didn’t last.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t interrupt.

“My father—he gambled. Drank. Made enemies.” You swallowed, the memories stirring like dust in your chest. “And when the debts piled too high, when they finally came to collect, we lost everything.”

You shook your head, forcing down the lump rising in your throat.

“Did you hear about the fire around 19 years ago? Whole neighborhood burnt down, barely any survivors,” you hummed gently, not daring to meet her eyes, Sevika humming softly in response.

Sevika’s expression hardened, her eyes narrowing slightly. She knew the story, or at least pieces of it. Everyone in the Undercity had heard rumors about the fire. But hearing you say it—connecting yourself to that tragedy—shifted something in the air between you.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, her voice gruffer than usual. “I heard.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you pushed past the lump in your throat. “That was my neighborhood. My family.”

Sevika’s gaze lingered on you, unblinking and sharp, but she didn’t press. She let the weight of your words settle.

“There was nothing left,” you continued, your voice hollow. “The ones who survived… we scattered. Some made it out of the Undercity entirely. Some didn’t.”

Sevika didn’t move, didn’t speak, but the flicker in her eyes betrayed her thoughts. She understood loss. Maybe too well.

“I came here because it was the only place left,” you said, swirling the last drops of your drink. “I thought maybe I could disappear. Start over. But you don’t really get to do that, do you?”

Sevika finally broke her silence, her voice low and steady. “No. You don’t.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the hum of the bar around you fading into the background.

“So that’s it?” Sevika asked after a beat. “You’ve been running ever since?”

You shrugged, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “What else is there to do?”

Sevika leaned back, her metal arm resting against the counter with a faint clink. “You fight,” she said simply.

You snorted. “Fight for what? This place?”

“For yourself,” Sevika replied, her gaze steady. “For the people who can’t.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard by the conviction in her voice. It was different from the Sevika you thought you knew—the woman who pushed people away, who acted like she didn’t care.

“Don’t act like you’re not already doing it,” she added, nodding toward the alley you’d been watching earlier. “Those kids? They’re looking at you like you’re their savior, whether you like it or not.”

Your chest tightened, and you looked away. “I’m not anyone’s savior,” you grumbled, swirling your glass again.

“That’s what I thought too, for a long time,” Sevika replied, her eyes softening, her words seeming to bring back memories or talks she had. “I was raised to be tough, never be soft, don’t let anyone take advantage of you,” she muttered, “I guess it worked per say, I’m feared, respected, all things you want to be in a place like this.”

You watch as her shoulders sag slightly, exhaling heavily as her eyes closed for a moment, “but I lose people, people who didn’t deserve to be in a place like this, people who made mistakes but I was lucky enough to see what was behind the masks they wore.”

Sevika’s words hung in the air, heavy and raw, like a wound laid bare. You’d never heard her talk like this—never seen her drop the armor she always carried. And yet, here she was, letting you glimpse something deeper. Something real.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat growing harder to ignore. “And did it help?” you asked quietly. “Being tough? Pushing people away?”

Her eyes snapped back to yours, sharp but not unkind. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But mostly? It just made it easier to pretend I didn’t care when I did.”

The confession struck a nerve, and you felt your walls starting to crack. You’d spent so long convincing yourself that caring was weakness—that survival meant keeping your distance. But was it really any better than being alone?

“So what changed?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika let out a dry chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “I lost too much,” she said simply. “Kept telling myself it wasn’t my fault, that this place—this life—wasn’t meant for happy endings.”

She paused, her gaze flickering toward you. “But then you showed up.”

Your breath caught. “Me?”

“You’re stubborn. Reckless. You don’t know when to back down, even when you should,” Sevika said, her lips curving into something that almost resembled a smile. “And you remind me of someone I used to be.”

You blinked, unsure whether to take her words as a compliment or a warning. Maybe both.

“Is that a good thing..?” You ask, your head tilting with the question.

Sevika smiled, not a big one or for long, but it was a genuine smile, with the way that the corners of her eyes crinkled and how her slightly chapped lips seemed to stretch with the act— your heart buzzing slightly at the sight.

“Depends on who you ask I guess, if you ask me, it’s the worst possible thing to happen to me, I’ve got a street Rat stuck on me like it’s caught in a trap, and yet you keep trying to get that cheese that you think is there.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, soft but real, the tension in your chest easing just a little. “Well, maybe the cheese is worth it,” you shot back, your lips curving into a smirk.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her smile fading but her amusement lingering in her eyes. “You think so? Even knowing the trap could snap any second?”

You shrugged, leaning back on your stool. “Life’s full of traps. If you’re too scared to take a chance, you’ll never get anywhere.”

Her expression shifted, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than felt comfortable. It wasn’t judgmental or cold—it was something closer to respect, though Sevika would probably never admit it outright.

“Brave or stupid,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Probably both,” you admitted with a grin, raising your glass to finish the last drop of vodka.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the hum of the bar wrapping around you like a threadbare blanket. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you feel… not alone.

“As much as a pain in the ass you tend to be,” Sevika sighed, “I have to admit you seem to at least have a brain in your skull,” smirking softly as you roll your eyes.

You lift your glass to your lips, swallowing down the rest of the vodka, trying your best not to let it show that you hated the sting of it falling down your throat. As you exhale, setting your empty glass down on the counter you glance at Sevika, taking in how much more relaxed she looks. Her shoulders don’t sit as squared as they used to, her sharp and cold eyes seem to have melted a bit.

You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger, studying the woman beside you. This was Sevika, the same woman who had pushed you away without a second thought, who had built walls so high even you couldn’t see over them. And yet here she was—softened, even if just slightly, by the fragile truce between you.

“You know,” you started, your voice light but tinged with sincerity, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you like this.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, though there was a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Like what?”

“Relaxed. Human,” you said, leaning your elbow on the bar as you turned to face her more fully.

She let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “Don’t get used to it, kid. This place has a way of reminding you why you can’t stay soft for long.”

“Maybe,” you replied, your tone thoughtful. “But isn’t it exhausting? Always keeping people at arm’s length?”

Sevika didn’t answer right away, her gaze shifting to her metal arm as she flexed the fingers absently. “It is,” she admitted quietly. “But it’s safer that way.”

“For who?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes snapped back to yours, sharp and guarded, but you held her gaze. For a moment, you thought she might shut you down, might throw up the same walls she always did. But instead, she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly.

“For everyone,” she said.

“That's a load of bull,” you scoff, Sevika sighed begrudgingly as she shook her head. “Look, Sevika, I get it, you're a big and tough woman, you've gotta keep that exterior appearance sharp and clean–” you sigh, “but at least try and relax and be genuine with me? Come on, I was nice to you before you even had a chance. I'm ruining my reputation here,” you whine half heartedly.

Sevika let out a dry laugh, her lips quirking up at the corners. “Ruining your reputation? You think anyone’s impressed by you drinking cheap vodka and pouting at me?”

“Hey, I’m plenty impressive,” you shot back, leaning back on your stool with an exaggerated smirk. “I’ve got street kids worshiping me, remember? They think I’m a legend.”

Sevika arched an eyebrow, her smirk growing. “Yeah, a legend at whining, apparently.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small grin tugging at your lips. “You’re deflecting,” you accused, pointing at her.

“And you’re annoying,” she countered, but there was no real heat in her words.

“Annoying enough to get under your skin, though,” you teased, taking another sip of your drink. “Which means I’m doing something right.”

Sevika groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, but you caught the way her shoulders relaxed just a little more. “You don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when I think there’s something worth fighting for,” you said, your tone softening just slightly.

Her eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, she looked like she might argue. But instead, she sighed again, shaking her head. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you said with a grin, raising your glass in a mock toast. “But I grow on people.”

Sevika snorted, shaking her head but not denying it. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, though the playful glint in your eyes said otherwise.

The conversation lulled for a moment, the two of you settling into a companionable silence. The hum of the bar faded into the background, and you found yourself watching Sevika as she absentmindedly traced the edge of her glass with her metal fingers.

“Look,” you said after a beat, your voice quieter now, “I’m not asking for a miracle or anything. I just… I think we’ve both had enough pretending for one night.”

Sevika’s fingers stilled, her gaze lifting to meet yours. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—hesitation, maybe. Or vulnerability.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice low but steady. “Sure.”

You smiled, the corners of your mouth twitching upward in a way that felt almost foreign. “See? I knew I’d get you to admit I was right eventually.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Sevika muttered, but there was a softness to her tone that took the edge off her words.

“I would never,” you said again, but this time, your voice was sincere.

As you giggled at Sevika’s hesitance to let up on you, a hand naturally lifting to cover your smile as you tried to stop your little giggle fit.

Sevika’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than she intended. The sound of your laughter—so genuine, so unguarded—echoed in her chest, stirring something she didn’t want to name.

She told herself it was just the vodka, the dim light of the bar, the way you always seemed to pull her into these situations without her realizing. But as her gaze traced the curve of your smile, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners, and the faint flush creeping up your cheeks, Sevika felt her resolve waver.

No.

She wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

But gods, did she want to.

She wanted to memorize the way your laughter filled the air, to see that smile again and again, to be the reason for it. It was ridiculous—dangerous, even—but for a fleeting moment, she let herself imagine it. Imagine what it would feel like to have you by her side, not as an annoyance or a distraction, but as something more.

The thought alone made her tense, her metal fingers curling into a fist on the counter.

“You’re something else, you know that?” Sevika muttered, her voice gruff as she leaned back in her seat, trying to mask the swirl of emotions tightening in her chest.

You paused mid-giggle, your hand dropping as you glanced at her. “Is that a compliment?” you teased, tilting your head with a playful grin.

“Don’t push it,” she replied, but her tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Still, you couldn’t miss the way her gaze softened, just for a second, before she looked away.

“Sevika…” you started, leaning slightly closer.

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice quiet but firm.

You froze, confusion flickering across your face. “Don’t what?”

Sevika sighed, running a hand through her short hair. “Don’t make me care more than I already do.”

The words hit you like a freight train, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What if I want you to?” you asked softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Sevika’s jaw clenched, her eyes darting to yours, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.

“It’s not that simple,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Fine, have it your way.” you hum unapologetically, reaching over and stealing her glass and swallowing down what was left of her own vodka.

—

Sevika had made sure to get you back to your little hideout in one piece, given you weren't the greatest with alcohol given how your pace stuttered or you came to a complete stop to balance yourself.

She helped you climb up the fire escape to your little cave,steading you with a firm hand on your back as you stumbled up the fire escape, her metal arm clinking softly against the rungs. You muttered something incoherent about being "perfectly fine" and "used to this," but she ignored you, her lips quirking in quiet amusement.

When you finally reached the top, you gestured grandly to your “hideout,” as if it was a palace. The reality was far less impressive.

The small space was wedged between two buildings, half-covered by a rusted piece of metal acting as a makeshift roof. A few blankets and pillows were scattered on the floor, a small stash of food tucked into a corner along with a battered lantern. It was functional, but it wasn’t much.

Sevika’s eyes scanned the area, her expression unreadable. “This is where you’ve been living?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

You huffed, brushing past her as you tried to reclaim some dignity. “It’s one of my spots,” you said defensively, waving a hand. “You know, in case things go south.”

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment before she crossed her arms, leaning casually against the wall. “Doesn’t look too secure.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, your cheeks flushing. “It’s fine. I’ve been here for years, and I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

You crossed your arms, mirroring her stance. “What? You gonna start critiquing my home decor now?”

A smirk tugged at her lips, but she held her tongue, sensing that any more teasing would push you into a full-blown tantrum. “No,” she said simply. “It’s… cozy.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the lack of sarcasm. “Cozy?”

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. “It works. That’s what matters, right?”

You stared at her for a moment, unsure if she was mocking you or being genuine. But the softness in her eyes—subtle as it was—told you she wasn’t making fun of you.

“Well, uh… thanks, I guess,” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck as you avoided her gaze.

Sevika pushed off the wall, her smirk returning. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t expect me to climb that fire escape again anytime soon.”

You snorted, feeling some of your embarrassment ebb away. “Noted.”

She started to turn toward the exit, but then hesitated, glancing back at you. “You good here?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, nodding. “I’m good.”

Sevika nodded, her expression softening for just a moment before she made her way back down the fire escape.

You watched her go, your heart still racing from the night’s events. As you turned back to your little hideout, you let out a breath, trying to shake off the lingering warmth her presence had left behind.

“Cozy,” you muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes. But despite your best efforts, a small smile tugged at your lips.

Okay maybe it was immature for you to have a crush on a woman twice your age, who had no interest in you whatsoever, and who would've probably ripped you limb to limb by now ...if she hadn’t inexplicably decided to tolerate your existence. Maybe even like it, though you weren’t going to push your luck assuming that. Still, it was hard to ignore the way Sevika seemed to linger around you lately, as if she was trying to figure out what made you tick—or why you hadn’t annoyed her enough to leave yet.

It wasn’t like you had any grand delusions about her feelings. Sevika wasn’t exactly the soft, romantic type. She was gruff, distant, and intimidating as hell—everything you definitely shouldn’t be drawn to.

But there was something about the way she looked at you sometimes. Like you were more than just another street rat scraping by. Like maybe, just maybe, you mattered.

Of course, that was probably just your overactive imagination. She was twice your age, far more experienced in life—and in surviving this hellhole. You were nothing more than an amusing distraction at best.

Still, it didn’t stop your heart from doing that stupid fluttery thing whenever she leaned in just a little too close. Or the way your stomach flipped when she smirked at you, that rare and fleeting expression that made you feel like you’d done something right for once.

You groaned, flopping down onto your makeshift bed with a dramatic sigh. “Get a grip,” you muttered to yourself, running a hand through your hair. “She’s way out of your league. Not to mention, probably plotting how to make you useful—or at least tolerable.”

But even as you said it, your thoughts drifted back to the way her voice softened when she talked about losing people. The way her gaze lingered on you a second too long when she thought you weren’t looking.

It was stupid. Childish. Dangerous.

And yet, you couldn’t shake the thought.

Because no matter how many times you told yourself to let it go, there was still a small, stubborn part of you that wondered what it would be like if she did care. Even just a little.

#sevika #queer #sevika x reader #street rat sevika fic #sevika arcane #fanfic #i love them #im pathetic #hooray i'm wasting my life away!#Spotify

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william-t-sickofyourshit · 3 days ago

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“Well… not overnight, but my point is… you already made so much progress. You will tackle this too, don’t worry.” William reassured. Poor Sebastian though, he was so worried… and William couldn’t blame him, really. Yeah, this was probably going to take months, so it was understandable that Sebastian was scared. William was scared of it too, but he figured he would be more scared if they just… did nothing, and Sebastian would walk around like a ticking time bomb with cancer-markers floating in his bloodstream, waiting to attack again at any moment. William didn’t even want to think about it.

But Sebastian’s real concerns completely went over William’s head. For him, it was obvious that he will support Sebastian during his treatment, no matter how long it will take. And it was obvious that he won’t stop loving him even if the treatment will take a toll on him. So… the option that Sebastian might be so very worried about that just never crossed William’s mind. He was oblivious to the battle that was going on inside Sebastian.

William nodded then, agreeing to put the subject aside for now. “Yeah, we don’t need to think about it right now. We have time.”

And just then, perfect timing, the waitress brought their Tteokbokki, a large plate with two sets of chopsticks, and two bowls of delicious sticky sauce. So they could munch on those a bit as an appetizer.

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes.

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times.

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?”

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them.

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

#for i have sinned

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amastarxoxo · 1 day ago

Note

Hii! Could I perhaps ask for a yan! Caitvi with a darling who is scared of them? Ty 4 reading my request!

fun fact: i don’t like either one of these people ( vi is 50/50 on a good day )

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀₊ ˚ shared infatuation ꒰꒰🍒꒱꒱

masterlist ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა navigation

warnings : objectification , fem!reader , poly relationship , violent outbursts ( vi ) , manipulation ( cait ) , sexual touching ( nothing explicit ) , dehumanization ( ? )

caitlyn and vi are the best couple to be around in public. but private…

caitlyn

doesn’t understand why you’re scared. she been nothing be nice to you and even dolled you up like a pretty princess.

everyday, she has a set routine for you that must not be ruined by anyone or anything. they will face the consequences if such happens

if you refuse to obey , she start manipulating you into thinking very differently about some people you care about.

she tends to do treat you more like a doll than a real person , “dolls must look pretty. dolls always obey their masters. dolls are obedient.” — her motto.

she honestly care but also don’t care that you’re scared of her, she has nothing to worry about she may not put hands on you ( physically at least ) but someone else can take care of that ( more fear the more she’ll listen )

i hc that vi is a really short tempered one but she tries to keep her cool around you and i mean TRY

every time you flinch, refuse, or ATTEMPT to run away from home escape, she ready to blow up and take out on anything or anyone.

“honey bun, please…stop getting me mad for attention! you know i’m completely devoted to you no matter what…just ask next time, k?” she’s delusional ! she thinks we asked for this.

she uses her anger to control you! you don’t want to get hit right? great! start listening—or else.

she does deeply care for you and she wishes you would just cooperate with her so she doesn’t have to use her anger to control you—she also cares about the fact you’re scared of her but she also uses it to her advantage clearly but then again, whatever keeps you with her, us, it doesn’t matter.

vi + cait

they love touching you. and i mean love touching you, boundaries don’t exist with them. from your hair to your lips, lips to your neck, neck to your collarbones, collarbones to your tits, tits to your stomach, yea you got the point.

cait will always scold vi for intentionally scaring you/using her violent outbursts to strike fear into you but she never actually stops her. if anything she’s watching from a distance, the scolding is just an act and they both know it except you of course.

whenever they argue about you, they never address you as a person, you’re an object, or not even consider human in a way, and since cait loves to keep you a doll you feel even more less of a person and more of a prop.

if you misbehave, vi will hold back cait from feeding you, showering you, etc. your punishment is either dehumanizing or rough housing sex; and cait most definitely does not agree with roughing you up have to keep up your precious porcelain skin, not taking care of you is the next best option, but cait is against that one too so vi has to hold her back. this punishment can go on for 48 days to about a week or two.

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xuchiya · 24 hours ago

Text

embarassingly cute || park seonghwa || one-shot

|genre: college! seonghwa. college! reader. just pure fluff and embarrassment. |mentions: nothing really.

summary: A simple habit of holding your best friend’s arm to navigate the chaos of the mall takes an unexpected turn. Fifteen minutes pass before you realize your mistake—but by then, it’s not just your arm that’s caught in an unexpected twist of fate.

word count: 1.1k

Malls always felt like mazes to me, with their endless rows of shops, glaring lights, and the constant ebb and flow of crowds. Ever since I was little, I had this habit of wrapping my arm around my friend Sam's whenever we went shopping. It wasn’t just a quirky gesture; it was my anchor, my way of feeling grounded and ensuring I wouldn’t get lost in the chaos.

“You always hold onto me like a little duckling,” Sam would tease, though she never pulled away. She knew how much it meant to me. I hum, looking at her, " 'Cuz you my mama duck." She playfully stuck her tongue out and I pouted, "You love me."

"Whatever you say, duckling." Today was no different. Sam, along with our other friends, and I had decided to spend a lazy afternoon strolling through the mall. They were busy window shopping whilst I found myself reaching for her arm almost instinctively as we meandered through the crowd, my eyes darting from one store display to the next.

“Look at those shoes!” I gasped, tugging her toward a storefront before I even heard a reply. Sam usually humored me with an indulgent smile or a sarcastic comment about my taste, yet maybe something inside her just sighs and lets me have my ways.

As the minutes stretched on, I felt more comfortable,and my usual habit just casually flowed in, playing her fingers or even intertwining them. The comforting weight of her arm against mine was enough to let my mind wander freely. I kept pointing out pretty signs, dazzling bags, and even an outrageously overpriced pen shaped like a flamingo.

“You’re so quiet today, Sam,” I remarked absently, turning my head briefly to glance at her before being distracted by another sparkling window display. “Are you tired?”

Behind me, I could hear muffled laughter, but I didn’t think much of it. My other friends were always giggling about something or other, not that it worried me or anything but it just made me feel curious as to what made them smile and giggle this much.

“Seriously, what’s so funny?” I huffed, finally glancing back, only to find them walking a few steps behind, their faces red from suppressed laughter.

“Nothing, nothing!” one of them wheezed, her shoulders shaking. I frowned but didn’t press further, figuring it was some inside joke I wasn’t privy to. It wouldn’t be the first time. Instead, I turned back to Sam, still holding her arm, intertwining our hands together as we continued our walk.

“Come on mama duck, let’s head this way!” I chirped, dragging her toward a shop with a dazzling display of keychains in the window. “Look at that! Isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Sam didn’t respond, but I barely noticed. My excitement always took over in moments like these. I tugged her inside the shop, oblivious to the amused glances from my friends trailing behind us.

The shop was small and cozy, with racks of colorful trinkets lining the walls. My gaze flitted from one adorable keychain to the next, my grip still firm on her arm. “Which one do you think suits me better—the bunny or the cat?” I asked, holding up two options.

When there was no reply, I glanced up, expecting to see Sam’s teasing smirk or her exaggerated eye roll. Instead, I was met with a shy, startled expression framed by soft black hair and wide brown eyes that definitely did not belong to Sam.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

“Oh no,” I breathed, my heart dropping into my stomach.

It wasn’t Sam. It wasn’t Sam at all.

The realization hit me like a freight train, my mind scrambling to replay the last… fifteen minutes? Oh my gosh, I had been dragging a complete stranger around for fifteen minutes!

“I—I thought—” Words failed me as mortification settled in. I dropped his arm as if it had burned me, stepping back with wide eyes. “You’re not Sam,” I finally managed to squeak out, my voice barely above a whisper.

The stranger—Park Seonghwa, my brain supplied belatedly, recognizing his striking features from our university—gave me a soft, apologetic smile. His cheeks were tinged with a faint pink that mirrored the heat rising in mine. “I tried to tell you,” he murmured, his voice gentle and almost apologetic. “But you seemed really… happy.”

I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I blurted out, waving my hands as if that could somehow erase the last fifteen minutes. “I wasn’t paying attention, and I just—I thought you were my friend, and—”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted, his voice calm and soothing. “Really. You seemed so excited, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

From behind us, my friends burst into peals of laughter, clearly enjoying my humiliation. “She called him ‘mama duck!’” one of them howled, clutching her stomach.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I’m never going to live this down,” I muttered under my breath.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Seonghwa said softly, his tone almost… fond. I peeked at him through between my fingers, surprised to see him smiling—shy but genuine, like he didn’t mind being dragged around the mall by a stranger.

Before I could muster up another apology, the cashier called for me to pay. I quickly handed over the money for the bunny keychain—because of course I’d forgotten all about the cat one—and turned back to Seonghwa, clutching the tiny trinket like a lifeline.

“Here,” I said, thrusting it toward him, placing it on his palm. “Take this. As an apology...”

His eyes widened slightly as he accepted the keychain, holding it as if it were something fragile and precious. “Thank you,” he said softly, his fingers brushing mine for the briefest moment.

The warmth in his gaze caught me off guard, and for a second, the embarrassment melted away, replaced by something softer.

Behind us, my friends were already making plans to roast me for the rest of the day, but before they could drag me away, Seonghwa hesitated.

“Wait,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

I turned back to him, my heart racing for reasons I couldn’t quite understand.

“Before you go,” he began, his cheeks turning pink again, “Would it… would it be okay if we met again? On purpose this time?”

I stared at him, my brain struggling to process his words.

“You want to hang out?” I asked dumbly, my voice cracking slightly. He nodded, his shy smile widening just enough to make my heart flutter. “If that’s okay with you.”

For a moment, I forgot all about the embarrassment, the laughter, and the teasing. All I could think about was the earnestness in his eyes and the unexpected sweetness of the moment.

“Yeah,” I said finally, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I think I’d like that.”

As I rejoined my friends, their teasing ringing in my ears, I couldn’t help but glance back. Seonghwa was still standing there, the bunny keychain in his hand and a smile on his face that I was pretty sure matched mine.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa ateez #seonghwa fluff #park seonghwa #park seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader

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wanders-in-wonderland · 9 hours ago

Text

Doctor’s Orders

“Miss, please follow me into the exam room.”

I look up to see a sweet nurse smile at me and wave me over. I smile back at her and stand up from the waiting room chair, following her through the doors of the clinic. She leads me into a standard exam room and after giving me quick instructions to take off my clothes and get comfortable, she leaves me, promising the doctor will be here to see me shortly.

I look around the sterile room, taking in framed stock images tastefully arranged along the walls and the stack of various medical pamphlets about STDs and safe sex. I take a deep breath and start to undress. I’ve waited so long to come see this doctor and I’m not going to let my nerves get the best of me now. The doctor I’m here to see is a specialist in anorgasmia, the inability to orgasm.

I’ve never been able to achieve orgasm, no matter what I’ve tried. Numerous partners have tried, I’ve purchased countless toys and lubricants, even going as far as trying hypnosis. Nothing has worked and I had almost given up hope when I’d stumbled across this doctor and his specialty.

It took months for me to get an appointment, and the screening process was incredibly intensive. Apparently, he’s extremely selective in the patients he chooses to see so when I got the call that he was willing to fit me into his schedule, I was ecstatic. Maybe I can finally say goodbye to my inability to orgasm.

A soft knock at the door startles me and I watch as the doctor opens the door and steps into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. He’s younger than I thought he’d be. I’d been picturing a middle-aged man, maybe with some greying hair and glasses. Instead, he’s handsome, fit, and I can see the sparkle in his eyes as he greets me cheerfully.

“Good afternoon! I’m sorry for the wait but I hope you’re comfortable! It is lovely to meet you.” His voice is smooth, comforting, and when I extend my hand out to shake his outstretched one, his touch is gentle but strong.

I smile back at him, feeling some of my previous anxiety fade away. “No worries at all, I’m happy to be here.”

I watch as he opens grabs a chair and sits in front of the computer, logging in to pull up my medical chart. “Now, let’s see here, you’re here for anorgasmia I see.” I feel my cheeks flush at the clinical way he’d said it and he catches my blush as he glances up from the computer screen.

He gives me a comforting smile, “Don’t be embarrassed. A lot more women experience anorgasmia than people think, and it’s something that we can fix. I promise, there is nothing to be embarrassed about here.”

I give him a small smile back, the sincerity in his words soothing me.

“Now, I know you filled out a very long questionnaire already and I’ve already reviewed that so we’re going to get right to a physical exam to start.” He pushes away from the computer and stands up, walking over to where I’m sitting on the exam table.

“Can you take off your bra and underwear for me, please?” I nod, steeling my nerves before following his instructions. My nipples immediately harden into peaks at the cold air of the exam room and I feel so exposed with my entire body naked in front of him.

He unhooks stirrups from the bottom of the exam table and clicks them into place. “Prop your feet into there for me and spread your legs,” his voice is purely professional and I do what he asks. Placing my feet into the stirrups leaves me completely exposed and a small shiver goes through me as cold air brushes against my core.

“Now lean back and look up at the ceiling for me. We’re going to start with just a simple physical exam to make sure everything is normal anatomically. Then, we’ll move on to a few other tests for sensation and sensitivity. If at any point you have questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to tell me, okay?” He looks at me with care and I nod back, feeling comforted by his words and clear attentiveness.

He rolls his chair to between my propped-up legs and takes a seat, facing me. “My hands are a little cold but don’t worry, we’ll warm up in no time.” I let out a gasp when his indeed cold hands come to rest on my thighs. His fingers are gentle as he brushes against my center, his movements confident as he pokes and prods around.

I stay still as I feel him gently pull me apart, letting cold air rush against my core and clit. I bite back a gasp at the sensation. I feel him press against my clit, maneuvering my clit hood out of the way to reveal the bud. A swipe of his finger against my exposed bundle of nerves makes me jolt and I let out a sharp gasp this time.

“Sorry! How did that feel?” He asks, his voice apologetic.

I take a second to gather myself before answering. “It felt intense. Good but almost a little overwhelming.”

“Hm, that’s good,” he says, “That means you have a fair amount of clitoral sensitivity. We’ll do a more in-depth examination later but it’s a good sign.”

I hear the scrape of his chair against the floor and glance up to see his standing. “I’m going to grab some lubricant and we’ll do an internal exam next.” I nod and watch as he squirts a dollop of lube onto his fingers.

He settles himself back in between my legs and I shiver at the cold feeling of the lube. He’s purely professional as he spreads the lube over me and slowly works a single finger into me. I bite my lip to tamp down any sounds I want to make.

“I’m going to test your g-spot next,” he says and I feel his finger crook upwards inside of me, brushing against the spongy clump of nerves inside of me. The sensation shoots through me and I led out a slow breath.

“That’s it, you’re doing really well. Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” His fingers scissor inside of me and I let out a soft whimper. “Does that feel good?” His voice comes out in a lower register than before. “Come on, use your words. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how it feels.”

I whimper again, “Mm yes, it feels good.”

“Good, so you have no problems with vaginal arousal and lubrication,” he says, his voice almost a purr now. “Don’t hold back, we want to make sure you’re giving your full reaction to everything that’s happening to help me understand what’s happening here.”

At his words, I let out another whimper, feeling the slow drag of his fingers against the sensitive walls of my pussy. He presses his fingers against my g-spot again and my back arches as pleasure shoots through me.

“Tell me, is this level of sensitivity and sensation reflective of how you normally feel during intercourse?” I take a second to catch my breath and think before I answer him.

“I think so, I’m usually pretty sensitive to sensation, it just never seems to culminate into an orgasm. A lot of times, I get too overstimulated to continue and I can’t cum.”

“Hm, I see,” his voice takes on a more contemplative tone. He pulls his fingers out of me, and I almost want to whimper at the loss.

“Well, I have a few theories but I’m going to do a more hands-on test to get a clearer answer of what we’re dealing with here. Lie back for me and relax.”

I lean my head back, staring up at the ceiling of the room and I feel him walk away for a second. He reappears at my side for a moment, and suddenly, I feel something encircle my wrist and hear a click. I jerk in surprise, glancing down to see that he’d cuffed me down to the table. My eyes meet his and smiles at me.

“Don’t worry, this is just to keep you still during the examination. The less movement there is from you, the easier it is for me to do my job. If at any point, you feel uncomfortable, tell me and we’ll stop, okay?” His words soothe the panic that rose up in my chest at the idea of being restrained and I give my consent. He smiles at me and makes quick work of clicking my other wrist into a cuff. Next, my ankles are strapped down to the stirrups and my thighs held apart by more cuffs. There’s even one that goes around my waist to keep my torso still.

“Good, how do you feel? Are any of the restraints hurting you?”

I shake my head in response, “No, I’m okay.”

He smiles at me again and I watch him open a drawer from across the exam room. “We’re going to introduce some equipment to help me get a better gauge of what we’re dealing with here.” My eyes widen as I watch him pull out several industrial looking sex toys.

“Let’s start with clitoral stimulation,” he says, setting down the toys except for one. He shows me the toy, it looks almost like an electric toothbrush with a wider body and a very thin head. “This is a very precise vibrator. Most commercial vibrators people tend to purchase have a much larger surface area, which can be very good for folks who are highly sensitive in all areas, but it doesn’t offer much precision in targeting specific parts of the clitoris. This one doesn’t have that problem since it has a much smaller head. Now this one is also pre-set to have 10 very well-calibrated intensity settings. Depending on your reaction to each setting, I can make better conclusions about your clitoral sensitivity. We’re going to go through the settings from low to high and I want you to continue to be vocal and tell me what you’re feeling, okay?”

I nod, “Okay, but what if I get too overstimulated?”

He gives me a comforting smile, “Just tell me and we’ll stop and re-evaluate if it happens.”

I nod again and he sits back down between my legs to get started.

I hear the toy click on, presumably at the first level based on the low, quiet buzzing sound its emitting. I gasp when I feel his fingers gently pull my pussy apart to reveal my clit, already erect and throbbing from his earlier treatment.

A moan escapes from my throat when I feel the toy make first contact. It feels so much more intense than any other toy I’ve ever had. The precision of the toy and the ease in which he handles it means that the vibrations are pressed right against my exposed clit, forcing the collection of raw nerves to submit to the sensations.

“How’s that?” He asks, his voice making me scramble to get ahold of myself to give a coherent response. “It feels so intense but in a good way.”

“Good, that’s good. Just relax and let yourself feel.” He murmurs, keeping the vibrator pressed tightly against me.

My eyes drift shut as I feel the sensation overtake me. The pleasure is forming a haze around my mind, every thought getting chased away by the feeling between my legs.

I hear his voice again, “I’m going to increase to the second setting. Just stay relaxed for me.”

I let out a whimper in response as the toy clicks up a level. The pleasure intensifies but there’s also a building sensation of raw overstimulation that is starting to arise. We’re nearing the point where I would normally stop and take a break but I don’t want to tell him that yet. I want to let him keep going, because maybe today is the day I finally get to cum.

I bite back a whine and clench my fists at my sides.

“Increasing to level 3 now.” He says, resting a hand on my thigh as his other one holds the toy firmly against me. The increase this time makes a cry rip out of me and my eyes fly open to meet his.

“Ah- it’s so much, I’m getting overstimulated.” I whimper out, my hands clenching and unclenching in an effort to control myself. He nods but doesn’t make any move to pull the toy away or decrease the setting.

“Try and tough it out for me for a bit more, I want to see if we can overcome the overstimulation.” He gives me a comforting smile and gently pats my thigh.

I take a deep breath and nod, letting my eyes drift shut.

“Increasing to level 4 now,” he says and the vibrator switches to a higher intensity before I can protest.

“Wait! Wait, please, just give me a moment, please!” I gasp out as the sensations shoot through me entire body. He shakes his head, “You’re doing great, just relax and let it happen.”

I whine as tears are gathering in my eyes. I’m walking the very thin line of pain and pleasure as the vibrator forces breathtaking feeling onto me while riding my nerves to the sharp edges of overstimulation. I hear his voice again and my heart drops when I register his words. “Increasing to level 5.”

A scream bursts out of me as all of the sensations compound and increase. It’s too much, I can’t do this. I can’t tell if I’m close to cumming, I just know that I’ve been absolutely thrown over my threshold for sensation and I can’t take anymore. I sob out my begs to my doctor.

“Please! No more, please stop! STOP! It’s too much! I can’t take it!” My body is shaking and I’m fighting with everything I have against the restraints but nothing gives. His hand on my thigh has turned into an iron grip, holding me down so I can’t even shift my hips to escape the relentlessly accurate vibrations.

“PLEASE! STOP!” I sob. There’s nothing to save me. He doesn’t listen, he might’ve said something to me but I’m too far gone to hear. All I know is the torturous pleasure dominating every single nerve of my body.

Beneath the horrible overstimulation, I feel a warm thread of something else. Something pulsing through my body, filling me with pure pleasure. I whimper as the feeling starts to build, my every muscle seeming to tighten in response to it.

There’s a knot building in my stomach, spreading throughout my body. Coupled with the overstimulation, I feel ravaged and decimated, every nerve pulled bare and shocked by the live wire of sensation that’s forced upon me. Before I can even begin to articulate it, I feel the vibrator kick up another setting and I scream as it shatters me.

I cum. For the first time in my life, I cum. My scream seems to shake the very foundation of the building we’re in as the pleasure, pain, and sensation flood my body, every cell of my body bursting with it. I can’t do anything except ride the relentless wave of pleasure, my entire body a slave to the whims of that horrible, terrible, delicious, mind-altering pleasure.

I slowly come down from the high of my first orgasm, gasps shaking my body as my mind struggles to reengage with reality. I blink tears out of my eyes, and I look up to see my doctor standing over me, holding the toy that he’s mercifully removed from my clit.

“Good job, sweet girl,” he purrs, running his hand up my thigh to cup my pussy gently. The soft motion is enough to make me whimper. “How did that feel, darling?” The terms of endearment make me pause but I’m too hazy to really digest it all.

I clear my throat and swallow, my voice raw from the screaming and begging. “I- It felt really good but it was so much,” I whisper, “I don’t know if I can do that again.”

He smirks and suddenly, I’m hit with a wave of uncertainty. There’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there previously and it makes me nervous. Something about the way he is looking at me is so different now than earlier, with his cool professionalism and niceties. Now, I feel like a specimen under a microscope and he, the scientist who plans on dissecting me.

“I think, I think I need a break. Can we finish this appointment another time?” I murmur, pulling slightly at my restraints and looking at him.

He lets out a low laugh that makes my skin pebble with nerves. “Oh no, now that I know what the problem is, I can’t let you leave until we fix it. What kind of doctor would I be if I let my patients leave without being cured?”

I shake my head, “I don’t understand,” I whisper. “You made me cum, doesn’t that mean I’m cured?”

He smirks at me and he slides a finger into my pussy, making me gasp. “Not at all, we’ve proven that you indeed can orgasm, but there is still much to be examined in terms of the extent of your orgasms. Plus, we have several more levels of this vibrator to get through and we haven’t even begun to work on your pussy and g-spot yet.”

My eyes widen at his words and the curling feeling of fear truly takes root inside of me. “Wait no, please, I don’t want to continue with any of that anymore. Please, just let me go!”

The look on his face is one of glee as he sees my terror become apparent. “Now now, you don’t want to leave against my medical advice, do you? Plus, darling, you consented to following through with my professional recommendations when you signed up to be a patient. There’s no backing out of this now. And especially when I know how sensitive of a whore you are, darling.” He chuckles.

I whimper, “Please, no, I don’t want this.”

He bends down to lean in close to me. “Well, I don’t give a shit about what you want. You are the most unique case of sensitivity I’ve ever seen, and I plan to take full advantage of that while I have you here. So be a good girl for me and enjoy this.” He presses his lips to the side of my neck and the feeling makes me tremble.

He ignores the rest of my protests and goes back to sitting between my legs. I watch in fear as he holds up the vibrator and clicks it on. “We stopped at level 6 last time, that’s where we’ll resume. And scream all you want, sweet girl, these walls are soundproof and won’t let a speck of sound through.”

I do indeed scream when he presses the vibrator against me again.

This time, there’s no build up of pleasure or stimulation. It all slams into me all at once and I writhe against my restraints as everything overwhelms me. I vaguely hear a low laugh permeate the space around me but I can’t focus enough to pick out any other noise amidst my own sobs.

My doctor stops giving me any verbal cues, not that I’m coherent enough to even understand at this point. All I know is the punishing vibrator held against my clit, ravaging my body and turning me inside out. The claws of pleasure are embedded deep into my psyche and my body is at its complete whim.

I have no idea how much time has passed or whether I even stayed conscious for the entire duration of the torture but eventually, I realize that he’s stopped. The vibrator is off but my body was still shaking from phantom sensations, every inhale of air a sharp stab, and every sob a reminder of how broken I am.

Slowly, I register the sound of his low laugh. I whimper as I blink away my tears to look at him. “You, my sweet girl, are truly remarkable. I don’t think you realize since you were so out of it, but we were at the highest setting for the past ten minutes and you didn’t even cum once. I’ve never come across someone so fucking sensitive and yet so resistant to orgasm. It’s incredible because you don’t seem to become desensitized either.”

I whimper and my voice cracks when I speak. “Please, please, just let me go. I can’t handle any more. I won’t tell anyone about this, please just stop doing this.”

He smiles at me and for a brief moment, I see the professional, nice, kind, good doctor from earlier. But all my hope is washed away when I feel his fingers press against my core again.

“I can’t do that, darling. We still have your precious pussy left to work on,” his voice is filled with excitement and it makes me want to cry because I know what is coming next and I’m not sure I will survive.

I watch him exchange the vibrator for a huge dildo. He smirks and presses a button on the underside of it and the entire thing begins to vibrate. “I think we can go ahead and skip to the higher settings here.”

Tears fill my eyes and I shake my head at him as pleas fall from my lips. He ignores me as he lines the dildo up with my core. I tremble as the vibrations make me shudder without the toy even breaching me yet.

He catches my eye and I watch as he gives me a wink and proceeds to slam the dildo home inside of me. I arch my back and let out a devastated cry. The toy fills me to the brim, the vibrations ravaging my sensitive walls and my g-spot in a way that makes my eyes roll back.

I’m sobbing and shaking as he drives the dildo in and out of my pussy. Every movement against my overstimulated walls tortures me. The pleasure digs its claws into me and drags me back into its embrace. My entire being submits and I feel my mind’s grasp on my sanity loosen as every single facet of my existence narrows to pleasure.

Each thrust seems to make my sensitivity grow, every single muscle in my body aching and begging for relief. I feel his hand clamp down on my thigh as the other continues to work the dildo inside of me. I want to rip myself out of my body to make this torture end but there’s nothing I can do. Every push and pull shoves my body higher and higher to a peak that I can never seem to reach. There’s no culminating release of pleasure to make this all better, no soft wash of an orgasm to soothe every jagged nerve. There’s only him and the torturous pleasure he imparts onto my very soul.

An unfathomable amount of time later, I feel him finally turn off the toy and pull it out of me. I barely register the lewd sound of my cunt clenching around the toy, my pussy still weeping with arousal even after the devastation he brought upon me.

“Please,” I whimper. “Please, are we done? Please, I can’t take anymore, please let me go.”

He brushes my hair off my forehead and he smirks at me. “Oh, sweet girl, I can’t let you go now. I’m going to be keeping you as my perfect little toy. There are still so many other things I want to try on you. I’m going to push every single limit you have until you break for me.” A soft whine escapes from me and I know there is nothing I can do to convince him otherwise. My head lolls from exhaustion and I feel my grasp on consciousness start to loosen.

The last thing I hear is his voice. “Sleep, sweet girl, I’ve got you.”

#nsft concept #overstim kink #dark fantasy #cnc overstim #cl1t torture #cnc k!nk #rap3 fantasy #mind break #medfet

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zepskies · 2 days ago

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Omg really? Wow, thank you so much. That's honestly amazing to me, considering this was one of the hardest for me to write in Smoke Eater. 💞

(But after reading your wonderful review, thank you for making me cry. 🥹💗💗)

First of all, please don't apologize for the heartfelt thoughts you want to share with me. No matter how long or short, I love hearing what you think about my writing, and this is genuinely one of the best reviews I've ever received, because I can tell it came from the heart.

What's crazy is my mom and I also used to watch Chicago Fire together when she was trying to recover from surgery (where she had terrible complications and wasn't well for a long time). It became her comfort show, and I was happy to introduce it to her/have that bonding time where it kept her from thinking about her pain. But I'm so glad you thought to come here to perk yourself up after a rewatch.

honestly I have so many thoughts for each wonderful chapter but I would feel super guilty for spamming :’) this chapter in particular though, hits me harder than anything i’ve ever read before — not in a bad way!🤍

lol girl that's the best kind of spamming. I'd never be upset with that! 😂 Oh good, I'm glad it doesn't hit in a bad way. I was concerned about that for readers when I was first posting this part of the story. 💙

my mom had epilepsy, and I was her caretaker pretty much my entire life. I connect so much with this story because it, feels like i’m reading a mirror, if that makes any sense at all. with all the doctors and the worrying, it’s written so authentically, which is understandable after reading your author’s note. i’m so sorry you’ve experienced such difficult hardships and losses yourself honey, I offer my sincere condolences. and i’m sending you the biggest hugs 🫂🤍🤍

I'm sending you the biggest hugs right back, friend. I'm so sorry about what your mom went through, and what you went through too. Being a caretaker is not easy. I've seen it enough in my family that that's what I drew from in order to write this, so I'm glad it felt authentic to your experience. 🫂💞

now these lines/parts specifically had me crying like a baby lol. december of 2021, my mom had to have surgery at the start of the month. her recovery was going a little slow, but well. however she passed away overnight, 2 days after christmas, completely unexpected. the day before she had been doing so well too— she had more energy and was more mobile without needing as much assistance. came to find out later that’s something nurses call a surge? :/ either way, those moments in particular really tugged at my heartstrings ❤️‍🩹

I'm so sorry for your loss, my friend. It is blind sighting when it comes so unexpected like that. I haven't shared this publicly, but something similar happened with my grandfather this past December. His health declined suddenly, to the point we had to take him to the hospital. After seeming to get better after a few days, he went downhill even harder, and he passed away in mid-December. It's not the same thing as your situation, but I understand the feeling of "why did this happen like this?" But now he's at peace with my grandma. And your mom is free from her pain and discomfort too. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

this line too. I felt this way for so long after my mom died. I didn’t get the final cause for a while since she passed at home and not at a hospital, and to this day I wish I could go back. wish I could’ve done something different. but SUDEP (or, sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) is completely unpreventable so far. I just find it so cruel that this illness I spent my whole life helping her with, ended up taking her anyway and nothing I did mattered in the end. so reading that line, how she broke down, and everything she had been holding in, it really made my heart ache but I also felt less alone in a way.

And I'm sure you did everything you possibly could, just like the reader in this story. 💞 I didn't know about SUDEP, but I have a family member who takes medication for his epilepsy, so I'm going to be reading up on that. I'm so glad that this simple line made you feel less alone in any small way -- I also thought when I was writing that it not only fit what the character was going through, but that other people who've been caretakers for a family member like this would be able to identify with this feeling as well.

everything that followed, it’s like reading a reflection. I shutdown and just went through the motions afterwards too, but ohhh how nice it would’ve been to have a dean ❤️ his support, how he takes care of her, it’s so heartwarming. and it’s really comforting to read. <3

It's that awful "autopilot" thing that somehow allows us to get through the aftermath, in a way, right? If only we could all have a Dean to support us in those moments. Somehow, reading hurt/comfort fics help me feel better too though. 💓💓

a lot of my family distanced themselves afterwards which, it is what it is. that being said, the sentiment in this story of family isn’t always blood resonates with me a lot. my support system is really small, but they chose to be there for me unlike my blood relatives so, that theme in this story means so much — the way dean’s chosen family shows up for her as well, it’s so sweet. 💖

Ugh really? I'm sorry to hear that. 💙💙 But thank you for pointing that out -- that is the overarching theme of this story, a la SPN style. 🥹 Your chosen family can be just as powerful, if not more, than your blood family. And in this story, Dean's family is basically "adopting" the reader/you into it. 💕

I guess the gist of what i’m trying to say, is I wholeheartedly adore this series and it truly means so much to me 🤍 I appreciate your work so much, and I love the unique feeling each piece of your writing brings 💗💗 I know I may sound like a broken record but truly I don’t think I can ever put into words how much I love your blog. you are an absolute sweetheart, truly a light peeking out between cloudy skies 💞

Wow, I really did tear up of happiness. Thank you. 🥹🥹 I appreciate you right back for reading this story and connecting with it like you did. And I'm so glad that you enjoy my blog!! I've only been here on Tumblr for about 2 years actively, but connecting with people like you is what's keeping me here, and honestly gives me energy to write and express myself when I'm going through hard times.

This chapter specifically was very difficult for me to write for multiple reasons, as you saw in my AN, but again it makes me all the more grateful that this is the chapter you connect with the most. I'm very sorry for your loss though. I'm really touched that this story can give you some small comfort. 💞

(And no it's not too much. Thank YOU for taking the time to share this with me.)

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still.

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.”

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast.

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made.

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry.

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part.

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat.

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes.

He’s not leaving you.

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart.

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you.

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand.

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.”

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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robynlilyblack · 2 days ago

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Perfect

Sirius Black x fem! insecure! reader

Summary: Sirius comforts his girlfriend when she’s feeling insecure

Warnings/tags: swearing, mentions of weight gain, body dysphoria, insecurities, eating, nudity and sex, established relationship, best friends to lovers, Sirius black is the best boyfriend, muggleborn! reader

A/n: 3.8k words, thank you so much for the request, it didn’t trigger me don't worry lovely, i poured a lot of myself into this one, this won’t be everyone's experience but it has been mine post 'recovery', enjoy xxxx

Navigation | Sirius Black Masterlist

The soft jostling of the front door pulls you from your thoughts, the reality of the last couple of hours falling upon you as you look around yourself. There was no point in moving now, nor did you honestly think you would be able to bring yourself to. Sitting in nothing but your underwear at the edge of the bed, surrounded by piles of clothing that lay scattered like fallen soldiers after your battle for the ‘perfect’ outfit. A ridiculous notion wasn’t it? ‘The perfect outfit’? The consequence and impact of such a notion remains less ridiculous though, as you hold the latest victim to your stomach, hiding yourself away for when that door finally opens

After a short eternity, the latch clicks, and the hallway illuminates the land outside your bedroom for a brief moment before it recedes “Hi darling! Just me!” Sirius’ calls out from the darkness, slight jingle following it as he locks the door behind him

He sounds so happy, you think at his chipper tone, your lips quirking up at the sound despite it all before they fall once more, he’s going to be so disappointed

There's anticipation in the silence that follows his footsteps, he must wonder where you are, if you’re even in or have popped to the shops, maybe he’s searching the fridge for a note. The electric hum of your record player gives it away in the end, even you jump a little as you had forgotten about it, watching it turn before the needle softly falls, the hum becoming a symphony once more

His footsteps approach the bedroom, a curious look at his head pops into frame before the rest of him, most likely expecting you to be dancing, or maybe finishing your hair, anything he can sneakily admire like he normally does. Instead you watch his expression soften into concern, eyes darting around the room. Your bedroom was normally a little messy, but today it was like someone had ransacked your wardrobe… that someone being you.

When his eyes find you again you wonder what you look like. He must catch the tear stains on your cheeks and puffy eyes, but is your hair as frizzy and frazzled as you feel after all the quick changes? Does he see you the way you see yourself should you dare to glance in a nearby mirror?

“Hi” you impress yourself with how steady your voice is

“Hi” he smile softly at you, voice gentle as he makes his way over to the bed, kneeling down in front of you, hand coming up to brush against your cheek before falling and resting on your knee, tracing soothing circles

You manage a weak smile back, trying to push away the embarrassment as he has to shift a little to the side due to the buttons of one of your shirts “I’m sorry about the mess” you apologise, keeping one hand on your jumper while the other finds his, fingers intertwining

He lets out a breathy laugh “Mess? Darlin we both know this is cleaner that my flat has very been” he teases lightly, but then his eyes turn glassy “Oh darling” he coos, wiping away a stray tear you had missed

You never wanted him to see you like this. You’d known each other for years, but he never knew the depth of your struggle, nor how much worse it had gotten now you and he had finally taken your relationship to the next level. No, this was something you had kept to yourself, a battle until now you thought you had under control, thought you were long past

“I’m not doing so great today Siri” you confess, voice small as you lean into his touch

You hold your breath a little as his eyes fall upon the clutched fabric around your stomach. Little did you know he’d noticed this behaviour before when you thought he was asleep. He recalls last week when he woke to find you in front of his mirror, shirt hiked up as you poked and prodded, scrutinising the reflection. He didn’t say anything then, just made sure to show you later how much he adored every inch of you

But now seeing you like this, so defeated, he wishes he had done more

“Yeah?” his tone inflects and you give him a little nod “There’s nothing I can say that's going to make this better is there? Not really?” he wonders, not mad, nor judging you, he’s just him and he understood even if it did hurt

When he and Remus had dated back at Hogwarts, Sirius had gone about trying to help him in all the wrong ways. Being the hot head he was, sprinkled with youthful arrogance, he used to get so upset at how his boyfriend had spoken of himself. Over the years, and after the relationship has blossomed back into friendship, he and Remus had more productive chats about it all, apologies were said, and Sirius learned more about the thought process that went through his friends head in those moments.

You were different from Remus of course, Sirius didn’t know what drove your insecurities but he knew he would be patient with them, help you in anyway he could, and that started by listening to you

“No” you answer honestly “I wish there was though. A magic word or sentence that could make it all disappear” you confess “But everytime I look in the mirror all I can see is what’s wrong”

“And what is wrong?” he encourages you to continue as he lifts himself up, being careful of your clothes as he joins you on the bed

Your legs fall from their crossed position, head falling onto his shoulder as your knee shifts to touch his “Everything” you admit, tightening your grip on the jumper, while Sirius' arm slips around your back, fingers gliding across your bare skin “No matter what I try on, it never feels…right. Even outfits I was excited about. I take one too many glances in the mirror and poof…” you shrug, throwing your hands up “...suddenly all I can see is my stomach” you look up at him through your eyelashes, nervous of what he’ll think, but instead he wears that fond smile he always did when he looks at you

“Keep going” he nods, leaning down to kiss your forehead

Your heart swells at the gesture, a tiny downturned smile grazing your features as tears prick your eyes “Why are you being so sweet with me?” you ask, even though you already know the answer, that little girl inside still needs to hear it aloud

His movements never stop on your back and his other hand finds the side of your face, gently caressing your hairline, endlessly tucking that little piece of hair behind your ear “Because I care about you. You’re my best friend” he answers simply “There’s no one else that comes close anymore”

“Not even Prongs?” you ask, eyes lighting up with a tiny smile that always sends his heart into a tizzy

“Not even Prongs” he confirms with a chuckle, tapping your nose, adoring the little scrunch it makes “So” he shifts the subject back “What happened today?”

“Remember last week when we couldn’t sleep, so we watched movies all night?” you prop yourself up

Sirius’ smile widens at the memory “Course, we watched the one that was like us but way less cool and then…ugh i can’t remember but I do remember what we did when the movies got boring” he flirts, wiggling his eyebrows, making you giggle and playful poke his side causing him to yip “You little…”

“Siri!” your giggles turn into laughter as he starts tickling you, hopping onto his knees as you fall back onto the plush of the duvet, squirming under his sweet torture “I yield! I yield!” you squeal, holding your hands up

He relents “Sorry darlin', I couldn’t resist” he tells you, kicking off his shoes before falling onto the bed beside you, propping himself up on his elbow while his other hand finds your hip, eyes lost in admiration for a moment before they find yours “What were we talking about again…” he looks off to the side, avoiding your hips as not to lose his train of thought once more “...ugh…tickles…getting bored…movies!” he celebrates "The movie" he gets serious again, lips pressing together in a way that tells you he wishes he could say sorry, even though you both know he doesn't need to

You place a sweet kiss to his lips, letting him know it’s okay before shifting onto your side, mirroring him “I couldn’t stop thinking about how cool the outfit the girl wore in the first movie was, so I wanted to try and recreate it for drinks tonight” you explain, eyes widening as you realise the time “Drinks…oh, we’re going to be so late” you sigh, head collapsing into the mattress beside him

Sirius rubs your back “Darling when are we not late” he chuckles, making you peak out at him

“I’m still sorry” you needlessly apologise, feeling awful

“We don’t have to go, you know?” he assures you, his hand sliding up to your head, giving your scalp gentle scratches

You tilt your head back, humming into his touch “I do want to go” your eyes flick back to his “I just…don’t stop!” you pout at him in mock anger, he really should have known better

He chuckles “Sorry darling” he apologises, placing a quick peck to your forehead before resuming his movements

“Good boy” you can’t help the grin, watching as he shakes his head slightly, now it’s you who should know better about what those words do to him...but then your smile drops “I just wish I could magic myself there without having to choose, like I need to look a certain way”

“What kind of way?”

“Honestly?” you shrug, shaking your head “I don’t know anymore. All I know is whatever I try on it never looks or feels right. Like back at Hogwarts, I didn’t tuck in my jumpers because it looked cute. I tucked them in because I thought I looked frumpy with them out” you confess, pit swelling in your stomach

You hated yourself for your thought process, for the years of walking into rooms,and having your night made or ruined based on how your body measured up against others

“That sounds really hard” he says softly while his fingers graze your hairline

Your body relaxes at the validation

“Why haven’t you ever talked to me about this?” he asks, no pressure behind his words only care

“I didn’t really tell anyone, mostly because I never realised everything I felt and did wasn’t normal until a couple years after we left. I worked hard on it and I thought my days of this…” you gesture to the mess “...was over” you let out a sad sigh

“What happened?”

Sirius’ heart drops a little bit, this was the part he most worried about, had he brought this back? Had he said something that accidentally had a double meaning for you?

“A couple weeks ago I found the pair of jeans I wore on our first real date.” your eyes drop to the duvet, hands playing with the slight frill in the material as you recall the memory “They don’t fit anymore Siri” you scrunch your nose attempting to suppress the tears “Nothing fits I’ve…I’m…I don’t like it” you finally get out

“Oh honey, come ‘ere’” he hithers, holding out his arms

It doesn’t take long for you to fall into his embrace, head nuzzling into his chest as his arms come protectively around you

“I know it’s silly-” you sniffle into him, but he cuts you off sweetly with a soft tut

“It’s not darling and you’re not either” he cups the back of your head, bringing you gaze to his to hone in his latter statement “I don’t think it’s silly at all, I think this is really hard and I wish you didn’t have to go through it all alone” he smiles sadly, pain evident in his eyes

“Did you notice?” you feel like you already know the answer

He caresses your cheek, eyes a little glassy “Little bit bub” he confesses “I noticed something' was off, but I didn’t want to push it until you were ready”

“Really?” he nods

“Darlin…” his demeanour turns from playful to sincere “...no matter what size or shape you come in, I’m always going to love you. I didn't fall for you because you looked a certain way. I fell for you because you made me feel like I was worth a damn, not just for a night but everyday. You believed in me every time I couldn’t, you put up with me forgetting everything every two seconds, not to mention my grumpy side when I have to wake up early…” you both chuckle together “...and above all you make me feel like the most special person in the entire world every day”

“Because you are special” you say simply to which he taps your nose with his own

“And so are you. So until you believe the version of yourself I see, I will, and I'll help anyway I can…starting…” he grins, uncoupling himself from you and getting off the bed ”...right now!” he gestures for you to join him “Come on love lets see ya” you do as he says, a nervous yet happy smile across your face as you stand near bare before him, no jumper protecting you now “Well whatever you wear has to match the underwear…good godric woman”

His hands find his hips, shaking his head as his eyes track across your frame, drinking you in like man that's been lost in the desert

“Flirt” you smile up at him

“Only for you” he throws you a wink, relishing in your slight fluster before turning to the rest of the room “Okay…let's try something simple” he suggests, scanning the pile of discarded clothes "How about the outfit you wore that day we went to the...aww what's it called, it's one the funny muggle picture places but with the cars"

"The drive-in cinema?" you decipher with a laugh, it was easy to forget Sirius wasn't brought up the same way you were

"That's it!" he cheeses at you "Yeah the sin-e-ma...you wore an outfit kinda similar to her in the movie but way more you"

As Sirius starts raking through one of the piles, you take a moment, glancing in the mirror closest to you, you could only really see your head and tips of your shoulders in this one thankfully, but in your gaze you realise you were right to be worried about the fizz, the many different shirts and jumpers had wreaked their havoc. You move closer, unaware of Sirius finding the clothes you wore that day, nor his adorable struggle to turn one of the legs back from being inside out.

He soon joins you at the mirror, placing the clothing on the dresser beside you “You know love…I might be a little bias but I think it looks great, it’s messy in a good way…” he smirks earning an eye roll from yourself as you know exactly what kind of messy he's referring to “...though if you're worried about it being too sexy lets..." he grabs a clip and hair tie from your pile, moving behind you and gently gathers the top half of your hair, letting some parts fall to frame face before he secures it with the tie and hides it with the clip "...pin half of it up, that way I can see your pretty face much easier” he kisses your cheek before spinning you around you around, admiring his work as he fixes the front pieces “Perfection” he says to himself with pride

“Siri?”

“Yeah? Oh…is it too tight?” his movements stop, resting gently at the base of your jaw

“No, it’s perfect” you smile, glowing under his care “It’s just you probably should have done that after I put my clothes on”

Sirius laughs as he realises, then shrugs “Ahh well if it falls out I’ll do it again, here I’ll help ya” he moves around you, holding the collar of the top and helping guide it down, avoiding the clip to protect his masterful work

“Hey that worked” you extend the first word, hand going up to check your hair was still in place

“Hey now, my plans always work! Maybe not always as intended but they al…wait no there was that time with Filch's cat…but that was an accident so it doesn’t count” he argues to himself

“Tell that to the cat! Poor girl was bald for months!” you try to counter but end up having to cover your mouth a little as you can't help the giggles

“Her fur grew back” he hands you some bottoms “Besides, you were the one that mixed the potion darling so if we are casting blame here…” he trails off as does his eyes but you don’t notice that part just yet

“Siri, you…he’s gone isn't he” you say to yourself, shifting your weight from side to side as he admires you shamelessly “Siri” you gently hit him with the fabric in you hands

“Sorry darlin” he scratches the back of his head “Thighs” he shrugs like it was the most forgivable answer in the world

“You’re silly” you giggle before turning around, deciding to hiking up your jumper a little and give him a little show as you slide into your bottoms

“I love you” he says simply, leaning against the wardrobe beside him as he admires your extra wiggles that are only for his benefit and his heart swells a little with pride as he’s helped you to momentarily forget your worries

When you turn around you find him wearing your favourite smile. The one reserved only for you, both now as two silly adults, and back when you were silly teenagers. You both should have realised far sooner your affections and feelings were more than what they were, but in the end both of you were always happy with the way your story planned out. You both needed that time to become the people you were now, to grow, to become this.

“I love you more” you challenge sweetly

“Not possible…” he moves closer, finding your hips as he slides his fingers up and under your jumper “...and if you say one more word we really will be late as we won’t be going at all” his fingers find the loops of your trousers, tucking you flush against him

You squeal a little “Fine…you win for now cause we don’t have time…well” you nod your head back and forth considering it before turning back to Sirius “…no no we don’t have time” you shake your thoughts away, causing the man before you to chuckle

Sirius helps you finish off your outfit, picking out some boots that just so happened to be one's your boyfriend was partial to, ones with some lift that he says makes you easier to kiss and your arse look even better, but really he loves them because when you take them off later tonight he gets to pat your head and tease you about being a little shorty. You grab a belt that matches your shoes, along with some other bits of jewellery, particularly the necklace Sirius had gifted you for your birthday after seeing your reaction to it in a vintage store a few months prior. The same gift that led to your first kiss all those months ago, there wasn’t a day you hadn’t worn it since.

Just as you’re admiring the locket Sirius wraps the exact jacket you were thinking of around your shoulders, but before you can say anything he just winks “Can’t reveal all my secrets darling, need to keep up that sexy mystery you fell in love with”

You just give him a small look though the mounted mirror but all he returns with is a pity pout and you concede “You are very sexy and mysterious love”

He smirks then, all proud of himself that his puppy eyes still work, but as you move to the floor length mirror near the door of your room to check the rest of yourself he stop you

“Nope” he steps in front, obscuring your view of the mirror

“Why?” you tilt your head, confused

“Do you trust me?” he asks

“Always”

He takes a moment to smile at the ease of your answer before guiding you out of the bedroom “Then come on we’re gonna try something, a little experiment if you will”

You allow him to lead you towards the front door, watching him quietly as he gathers your things, placing them into the bag you had chosen before slipping it onto your frame and fixing the collar of your jacket

“How do you feel right now in this moment?” he wonders, reaching out to intertwine your hands

“I feel…good” you answer honestly, you felt nice, you had only seen your hair and makeup, things that you could control and for the first time in a while you felt at peace leaving your apartment “I also feel pretty when you look at me like that” you add shyly under his gaze as you watch his eyes slowly drink in your appearance

“Good” he nods “Because you are, ya know, you are so beautiful” he says the words slowly, making sure you know he means them completely before he leans down, placing a soft lingering kiss to your lips “Now, lets go and watch our friends fail miserable at karaoke” he breaks away, smiling at your attempt to chase his lips before he turns away

“Sirius” you come to a slow stop

“Yeah?” he turns back, the softest most natural smile adoring his face

“Thank you, for everything”

His eyelashes kiss his cheeks. He doesn’t reply, instead he thanks you with a kiss to your cheek…and then one to the other…then your nose...and lips...and well safe to say you were a little late in the end after all

Thank you for reading ♡

#sirius black and reader #sirius x reader #sirius and reader #sirius black and you #sirius black and y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #sirius black #sirius x y/n #marauders era #marauders #shy reader #marauders x reader #sirius black fanfiction #robynsrequests

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claramelooo · 2 days ago

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CRIMSON REVERIE

How about a little of fluffy, huh?

Enjoy it <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Summary: you find out about your version and Wanda in another universe.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

SIGHTS

As you walked back to the camp, water droplets slid down your skin, the night breeze bringing a slight shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. Your mind was in turmoil, recalling Wanda's little show by the lake. The trees seemed quieter, as if even nature was trying to absorb what had just happened.

"Did you really have to do that in front of everyone?" you asked, breaking the silence, but your voice came out hesitant, almost shy.

Wanda glanced at you sideways, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "And what exactly did I do?"

"Oh, come on, Wanda," you said, exasperated. "Lifting that guy into the air, threatening to erase them all from the multiverse? That’s not exactly... educational."

Wanda raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. “What are you talking about? I was perfectly reasonable, if you want to know,” she said, her tone bordering on cynical, as if her threat to erase people from existence was something ordinary and completely justifiable.

"Reasonable?!" you repeated, your voice a bit louder than you intended. "You almost gave the poor guy a heart attack! He’ll never look at a campfire again without remembering you."

Wanda stopped walking, turning to face you with an expression that was both amused and exasperated. "He should be grateful," she retorted, as if explaining something obvious. "If I wanted to, he wouldn’t even remember what a campfire is."

"Oh my god! You’re impossible!" You crossed your arms, trying to look firm, but the way she was looking at you— that mix of unwavering authority and irresistible charm—made your heart race. "You know that’s not the point, right?"

She took a step closer, tilting her head slightly. "And what’s the point, then, dorogaya? That I should have let that bunch of filthy teenagers disrespecting nature go unpunished? I have principles, sweetheart! And none of them can see you like this except for me."

"I’m not talking about me," you replied, but your tone lost strength at the end of the sentence, because deep down, you knew there was something comforting—and, in a way, exciting—about the fact that she had defended you so fiercely.

"Oh, but I am," Wanda murmured, the intensity in her eyes making you feel as though the ground had disappeared beneath your feet. "No one will desire you in my presence. No one will even dare to think about you, and read my lips when I say, darling: I will know what they’re thinking. I always do."

You exhaled heavily, but tried to hide your smile at your witch’s over-the-top monologue. "Wanda… please."

Wanda turned to you, crossing her arms as she tilted her head. "Are you... worried about them?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but she just made a hand gesture.

"Happy?" she asked casually, beginning to walk again as if nothing had happened.

You furrowed your brow, quickening your pace to catch up with her. "What do you mean? What did you do?"

Without even looking at you, Wanda gave a small, satisfied smile. "They’ve forgotten everything, dorogaya."

Your eyes widened. "What do you mean 'forgotten everything'? Did you mess with their minds?"

She shrugged, fingers playing with a strand of her own hair. "Just enough to make sure no one will remember my ‘little show,’ as you call it."

You stared at her, a mixture of fascination and unease growing inside you. "You can do that? Alter memories?"

"I can do many things," Wanda replied, finally stopping and turning to face you. She seemed slightly amused, as if relishing your curiosity.

"Like what?" you asked, unable to contain the question.

Wanda leaned slightly toward you, her eyes shining with that characteristic mix of mystery and power. "Ah, milaya moya," she murmured, her voice low and enticing. "If I told you everything I can do, you wouldn’t sleep for weeks."

A shiver ran down your spine, but you couldn’t help but smile. "Is that a promise or a warning?"

"Both," she replied, laughing softly before continuing to walk.

Unable to resist, you hurried to walk beside her. "You really are something, Miss Maximoff."

Wanda stopped abruptly, making you almost stumble in your hurry to keep up with her. She turned to face you, an expression that wavered between surprise and amusement. "Something?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow as a smile danced on her lips.

"Yes, something," you reaffirmed, crossing your arms with an unexpected touch of boldness. "A force of nature, maybe. Or maybe a goddess with a heroine complex. But definitely something."

Wanda’s eyes sparkled, and you realized there was something more there. It wasn’t just amusement. It was admiration. Fascination. As if she was seeing something in you that intrigued her as much as you were intrigued by her.

"You’re bold," Wanda said, her voice soft but tinged with provocation. "Do you know what happens to people who challenge a goddess?"

"I have no idea," you replied, shrugging. "Maybe you should show me."

Wanda tilted her head, a dangerous yet charming smile forming. "You really want to know what I’m capable of, don’t you?"

"I do," you replied, firm, though your heart was pounding like a drum. "I want to know what makes you the woman you are. I want to see everything you can do. Because, if I’m going to be by your side, I need to understand... you."

For a moment, Wanda was silent, just watching you. Then, she stepped forward, closing the gap between you. Her fingers lifted to trace a slow path along your face, as if deciding how far she would take you on this journey.

"You have no idea what you’re asking for, dorogaya," she murmured, her voice like honey dripping. "My power isn’t just strength or control. It’s chaos. It’s destruction. It’s everything you fear and desire at the same time."

"Then show me," you insisted, your voice almost inaudible, but filled with determination. "If that’s what you are, I want to see it. All of it."

Wanda smiled, but this time, there was something deeper there—maybe a touch of respect. "You’re brave. So brave, lyubimaya. But be careful what you wish for."

She extended her hand to you, her eyes glowing with a deep red intensity. "Come with me. And I’ll show you what I’m made of."

You hesitated for a second, but just enough for Wanda to intertwine her fingers with yours, pulling you with her. "Hold on," she said, her lips curling into a smile that was as terrifying as it was beautiful. "You asked for this."

And then, with an almost imperceptible snap, the world around you began to change.

Wanda guided you with a firm yet strange touch through the veil between worlds. Reality around you unraveled in a tangle of colors and shapes, as if every line that composed the fabric of the universe was being unfolded before you. The air seemed to vibrate, charged with something incomprehensible—a raw, terrifying power.

"Welcome to the Multiverse, dorogaya," Wanda said, her voice soft as a whisper, but filled with an authority that made you shiver. "Get ready, because there’s no turning back."

Before you could respond, the first vision took shape.

The room seemed like it was from a dream. White, smooth, and flawless walls reflected the soft light streaming through large windows. Outside, there was a perfect garden, with well-manicured lawns and flowers of all colors. The house was a reflection of what Wanda seemed to believe was an ideal life: simple, cozy, and full of love.

Wanda was barefoot, wearing a light red dress that swayed with her movement. Her hair was loose, and she appeared... ordinary, but in an almost supernatural way. In her arms, a chubby, smiling baby played with strands of her hair as she looked at him with a tenderness so intense it almost broke your heart.

Vision stood beside her, smiling in a way you didn’t think possible for someone made of vibranium. He looked so human there, so... present. With one hand, he caressed Wanda’s face, and with the other, he held a small music box that played a soft melody in the background.

“This was my utopia,” Wanda began, without looking directly at you. Her eyes were fixed on the scene, as if she were immersed in the memory. “A perfect creation for a perfect life. A home where I could have everything the real world denied me.”

You realized the setting seemed like a reflection of an ideal from the 1950s or 60s — a perfect suburban life, almost like a magazine advertisement. Yet, the longer you looked, the more artificial everything seemed. The flowers in the garden had no scent. The sunlight didn’t warm. And suddenly, you realized there were no sounds from the outside.

“It was an illusion, of course,” Wanda continued, with a hint of melancholy. “But for a while... I wanted to believe it was real. I needed to believe. I did this for Vision. For myself. For my children.”

The scene abruptly changed. Now, the same room was dark, almost in ruins. The baby in Wanda’s arms had vanished. Vision was lying on the floor, lifeless, with a hole in his chest where the Mind Stone should have been. Wanda was kneeling, her hands stained with blood, her eyes fixed on the void.

“That’s when I realized,” she said, her voice faltering slightly. “None of this was mine. I was living a lie. And the truth... the truth was more cruel than any illusion I could create.”

You wanted to say something, but the words felt stuck in your throat. Everything around you screamed of pain, loss, and despair.

“I tried so hard,” Wanda whispered, more to herself than to you. “I tried to be good, I tried to be strong. But the more I lost, the more I became... this.”

You glanced at the woman, seeing tears held back in her large green eyes. Why doesn’t Wanda cry? Why does she keep everything to herself? These are questions you would like to understand and deconstruct with every reason she gives you.

This version of Wanda was a whirlwind of emotions, chaos personified. You saw her in different moments, different worlds, all versions converging on the same point: Vision. He was the center of her universe, and Wanda did the impossible to bring him back — to recreate the love she believed was her only anchor.

In the first scene, she was kneeling in a cold, metallic room, holding Vision’s lifeless body. It was a version of him without glow, without movement. The pale light reflected on her face, bathed in tears that flowed uncontrollably. Wanda murmured softly, almost inaudible, like a desperate prayer: "Please, come back to me. Please..."

You could feel the urgency in her voice, the kind of desperation that defies reason. She tried using her magic, her hands trembling as a scarlet glow surrounded Vision’s body. But it was futile. He wouldn’t return.

"I refused to accept death," Wanda explained, her voice low, as if confessing a terrible secret. "I thought I could deceive fate. That, if I wanted it enough, I could bring him back."

The scene abruptly shifted, and now you saw her in another world, facing a legion of colossal beings, each one more threatening than the last. They seemed to be guarding something — maybe an artifact or a secret she wanted. Wanda was at the center of the battle, her powers turning the ground into lava, the sky into darkness.

"I destroyed entire worlds," she continued, her eyes fixed on the scene. "I fought against those who tried to stop me, against those who said I was wrong. I didn’t care. I would do anything to bring him back."

You saw another Wanda, this time creating an entire world. She stood with her arms raised as houses rose from the ground, people took form out of nowhere, and a perfect blue sky stretched above everyone. At the center of this world was Vision, smiling, alive, as if nothing had happened.

"I created entire realities," Wanda said, a touch of bitterness in her voice. "But none of them were real. He... wasn’t real."

The last scene was the most devastating. Wanda was alone, watching a version of Vision disappear before her eyes. He touched her face one last time before fading into dust, and she remained motionless, as if there was no more strength left in her to react.

"For so long," Wanda said, her eyes filled with a pain that seemed endless, "I thought love was sacrifice. That everything worth having had to be earned with pain. But I was wrong."

She turned to you, the intensity in her eyes as crushing as everything you had just witnessed. "Love shouldn’t be this, right? It shouldn’t be pain, or loss, or despair. But it was all I knew."

You felt your heart tighten. You wanted to touch her, comfort her, but it seemed too small in comparison to everything she had faced.

"You showed me something different," she continued, her voice trembling slightly. "Something I never thought I deserved. You showed me that love can be... healing."

This time, the air was thick with tension as you entered that ruined house, used as a temporary refuge by Wanda Maximoff. The walls were cracked, and the smell of dust mixed with something else: magic, raw and pulsing, like a storm about to explode. The organization that had sent you knew she was dangerous, but you weren’t there as an agent or a heroine. You were there as a social worker, someone who had worked with people who had lost everything — and Wanda Maximoff was exactly that.

She was sitting in the darkest corner of the room, her eyes glowing with an unsettling scarlet hue. There was no apparent pain or mourning on her face; just a dangerous emptiness, the kind that swallows worlds.

"Leave," was the first thing she said, not even looking at you directly.

You didn’t leave.

"I just want to talk," you said, keeping your voice calm, even though your heart was pounding like a drum. "Nothing more."

Wanda laughed — a dry, bitter laugh, without joy. "Talk? Is that what they call interrogation now?" She finally raised her eyes to meet yours, and the weight of her gaze was almost physical. "I don’t need your pity."

"It’s not pity," you replied, not backing down. "It’s... concern."

Suddenly, the air around her shifted. It was as if an invisible hand was trying to grab you, crush you. Wanda raised her hand, and you saw the scarlet threads of her magic dance around her like serpents ready to strike.

"Do you think you can help me?" she whispered, her voice laced with sarcasm and something deeper: pain. "Do you think you can come in here and fix everything with your sweet words? I could end you before you even finish that sentence."

But she couldn’t.

The magic around her shattered like glass, vanishing into the air before it could touch you. Wanda’s expression transformed into something you would never forget: surprise. She tried again, raising both hands, muttering words in an ancient tongue, but nothing happened.

"Who are you?" she asked, standing slowly, her eyes fixed on you like a predator finding something unusual.

"My name is Y/n. I’m a social worker." You took a deep breath, trying to seem calmer than you felt. "And I think you need help."

"You idiot! Who sent you? Are you a witch? How do you know how to manipulate my magic?" she shot angrily.

Your hands were sweating, and you felt a strong urge to rush to the bathroom — but something completely insane inside you told you that you needed to stay.

You took a hesitant step forward, keeping your hands visible at your sides. It was like facing a wild animal, where every movement needed to be calculated.

"I’m not a witch, and no one sent me," you said, your voice calm but firm. "I’m just a social worker. And I’m here because you’re hurt."

Wanda laughed, but it was an empty, bitter sound. "Hurt?" she repeated, taking a step toward you. "You think you can help me? I’m the Scarlet Witch. I don’t need help from anyone, especially not from a... social worker."

"Maybe you don’t need it," you replied, trying to ignore the heat at the back of your neck and the trembling in your legs. "But maybe you want it."

Her face hardened, and for a moment, you thought you had made a fatal mistake. But then something changed. Her eyes lost some of their intensity, as if your words had touched a part of Wanda she was desperately trying to hide.

"Why aren’t you afraid of me?" she asked, tilting her head. "Everyone is. I can feel fear in people. But in you... there’s nothing."

You hesitated, searching for the right words. "Maybe it’s because I see beyond that," you said, taking another step. "I see someone who is hurt, who’s lost so much, but who is still here. Still fighting."

"You don’t know anything about me," she murmured, but her voice was quieter now, almost unsure.

"Then tell me," you responded softly. "Let me get to know you, Wanda."

There was a long silence. She watched you as if trying to decide whether you were real or just another broken piece in her world. Finally, Wanda sighed and turned her back, crossing her arms.

"You’re stubborn," she said, not looking at you.

"I hear that often," you replied, trying not to smile.

She chuckled softly, but it wasn’t a cruel sound this time. When she finally turned to you, there was something different in her eyes. Something more human, more vulnerable.

"If you’re going to stay, then stay. But don’t expect me to trust you anytime soon," she said, pointing to a worn-out sofa in the corner of the room.

"I don’t expect," you replied, carefully sitting down. "So, you can’t kill me with your red power balls, nor read my mind. What’s that supposed to mean?"

Wanda let out a disbelieving laugh, actually incredulous. Red power balls? She thought with a roll of her eyes.

"I don’t know." It was a low murmur.

"Maybe a sign that you should give me a chance…" You said with your shoulders shrugged and a sheepish smile on the corner of your lips.

Wanda could never have imagined that you would keep coming back, again, and again, and again — in fact, neither could you. A not-so-friendly conversation and death threats turned into a tea afternoon where Wanda told you about life in the Avengers before everything; then a lunch on the beach where you told her about how you almost drowned when you were 9 — that day, you saw the most genuine smile she could give you given her current conditions, and you felt your heart beat differently for the redhead. Then a dinner at your place — where you learned to make paprikash just to see her smile and complain that the dish lacked pepper — with wine, where Wanda cried missing her boys, and you were officially classified by her as: "the best shoulder I’ve ever cried on, and believe me, I never cry."

Wanda hadn’t realized how important your presence had become in her life, not until you needed to travel for an important case. She missed you, and that confused her. After all, how could a visit so unpleasant and peculiar make her want... for it to be daily? That you would visit her every day and bring the cinnamon rolls from that bakery on your street that she loved so much. That you would learn more Sokovian recipes just to make her smile.

Then the kiss happened in one of those moments of silence, when words were no longer necessary. You were sitting next to her, watching the sunset through the broken window of the house she called her temporary home. The sky was tinged with shades of orange and red, as if the universe itself was painting a canvas just for the two of you.

Wanda seemed calmer that day. Her shoulders weren’t as tense, and the eyes that always seemed to hold storms had a soft, almost peaceful glow. She suddenly looked at you, and there was something in her expression that made the air feel thicker.

"Why do you stay?" she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper.

"Because I want to," you replied, without hesitation.

She tilted her head, as if trying to understand something that didn't make sense to her. "You're strange," she murmured, but there was a small, almost imperceptible smile on her lips.

"I prefer 'unique,'" you responded, teasing, though your voice trembled a little.

Then, before you could say anything more, she leaned toward you. It was a hesitant movement, as if testing the waters, but when her lips finally met yours, everything else disappeared.

The kiss was everything both of you had imagined it would be — and more. It was soft, but filled with emotion, as if Wanda was pouring everything she couldn't say in words into that moment. You felt her hand move to your face, her fingers tracing your jawline with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of the kiss.

When you pulled away, she looked at you with something new in her eyes: hope. "You're not like anyone I've ever met," she said, her voice barely audible.

"Neither are you," you replied, smiling.

Months later, after your wedding in the Russian summer, when Wanda told you she was pregnant, the smile on her face was so wide it seemed to light up the entire room. You were sitting on the couch of your new home, a place you had chosen together, far from the chaos and painful memories of the past.

"I can hardly believe it," she said, placing her hands on her still-flat belly, but with eyes shining with genuine happiness. "After everything... after everything that happened, I never thought I would have this."

You held her hand, squeezing it gently. "You deserve all the happiness in the world, Wanda. And these babies already have the best mother they could ask for."

The following months were a mix of nerves and joy. You had never seen Wanda so happy. She decorated the twins' room with soft colors, but couldn't resist using a bit of magic to create constellations shining on the ceiling.

"I want them to grow up knowing that the entire universe is within their reach," she explained, smiling at you as she adjusted the details with a wave of her hand.

The day Tommy and Billy were born, Wanda cried. Tears of genuine happiness, as she held the two little ones in her arms. You were beside her, holding her hand, unable to hold back your own tears.

"I never thought I could be this happy," she whispered, looking at you.

"You deserve this, my love," you replied, kissing her forehead.

Exactly seven years later, when Wanda and you were waiting for the pregnancy test to be ready, this time for Seline, Wanda could hardly believe it. It was as if the universe was finally giving back to her everything it had taken before.

Wanda looked at you that day with the same gaze she had in your first kiss — full of love and hope. "You gave me this," she said, placing her hand on your belly, moved by feeling the baby's heartbeat against your skin. "You gave me everything I thought I could never have."

You laughed, wiping away a tear that escaped. "That's not how it works, Wanda. We did this together."

During Seline's pregnancy, Wanda seemed even more radiant than before. She spent hours reading storybooks to the twins, and often you would wake up in the night to find her caressing your belly, softly murmuring in Sokovian.

When Seline was born, you knew your family was complete.

"She's so perfect," Wanda said, with a soft smile as she held the little one in her arms.

"She has your eyes," you replied, feeling a wave of love flood your chest.

And in that moment, as you looked at Wanda and the three children you had brought into the world together, you knew that everything you had been through — all the pain, all the sacrifice — had been worth it.

The path back to the camp seemed almost irrelevant in the face of the intensity that was growing between you. Each step you took on the trail was an extension of what you had shared in that intimate moment, when Wanda had opened a piece of her soul to you. The words she had spoken echoed in your mind, but it wasn’t the words that mattered at that moment — it was the feeling.

You felt a mix of adoration and a deep desire for her, and Wanda seemed to understand this as clearly as you did. But there was something more, an urgency in both of you, as if fate had brought you together once again for another dance, this time with immeasurable depth.

"You asked me to show what I’m capable of," Wanda said, breaking the silence between you. Her voice was soft, but there was something threatening in the way she spoke, something that could only come from a woman who knew the power she possessed, yet remained vulnerable. "Do you still want to love me after all of this?"

She turned her face to you, and her eyes were shining with a mixture of insecurity and provocation. The silence between you seemed to carry centuries of repressed desire, of lost and found loves, as if you both were made for this moment, but had lived countless lives and universes before finally being here, together.

You didn’t hesitate. Your hands rose to Wanda’s face, touching her gently, as if you feared she might disappear at any moment. But she didn’t disappear. She was there. And you, without words, simply looked into her eyes, trying to convey all the love and certainty you felt.

"I want to love you because of all of this," you said, your voice firm, but heavy with something more — a promise, an oath made with heart and soul.

When your eyes met, the distance between you vanished, as if the entire universe had been reduced to this single moment. Time stopped. And deep down, you felt something like the touch of past lives, as if you had been there with her, in some other place, in some other time. Something that transcended everything that had happened, all the struggles, all the deaths and rebirths.

She leaned in slowly, and her lips touched yours with an unexpected softness, as if testing the moment, measuring the intensity of her own desire. But soon, the softness turned into urgency, as if, finally,

Wanda knew there was no turning back. And you, with your heart racing, matched every movement of hers, with the same intensity, with the same hunger. It was as if everything around you had disappeared, and there were only the two of you. No universe, no past, no pain.

The kiss was like a river flowing between mountains, gentle and impetuous at the same time. When Wanda’s lips touched yours, there was no more space for anything — no fear, no doubt, just the need to be consumed by her, to surrender to what fate had already drawn. It was as if everything had been a preparation for that moment. Your souls recognized each other immediately, as if they had known each other since the beginning of time, as if they had met in all past lives, in all universes, in all reincarnations. The feeling of something eternal, something that couldn’t be broken, settled between you.

It was a soft touch at first, a silent exploration, but soon the need for more became apparent. Wanda’s tongue slid against yours, and the tension between you dissolved in the intensity of that contact. It was more than passion; it was a union of everything you had been and everything you would still be. The kiss became more urgent, as if, by touching, you were rediscovering each other, merging. The world around you disappeared, the sound of the rain, the shadows of the night — everything became secondary. There was only the heat of bodies, the exchange of breaths, and the silent magic dancing in the air, reflecting the indescribable connection between you.

Wanda slowly pulled away, as if reluctant to leave that moment. Her eyes were darker now, but there was something deeply different in them. Something deeper than any expression you had ever seen in her before. Something immense, an ocean of feelings overflowing without words. And you knew. You knew that, in that look, she was giving you her soul, all the pain, all the love, all the hope.

She touched your face with trembling hands, as if wanting to engrave the outline of your being into her memory, as if she needed you desperately, as if her happiness now depended on you. Her voice was hoarse, broken, but filled with a sincerity so pure it seemed to tear her very heart apart.

"You are everything I need," Wanda murmured, almost like a plea, like a truth she was finally accepting. The desperation was there, in her eyes, in the tone of her voice. "I never knew what it really meant to live until now... until you."

Those words settled in your chest with the force of a silent scream. And then, without needing to respond, you moved closer to her, your bodies fitting together as if they had always been meant to do so. It was as if, by being together, the entire universe became lighter, clearer.

And in the touch, in the exchange of heat, you knew. You knew that she was desperate to be saved, to be happy, to find a home. It wasn’t just about the love you shared, but everything she wanted to build — a life, a family, a future. That kiss was not just passion: it was a promise. A promise that, together, you could create something that would resist time and fate.

When she pulled her face away slightly, breathing heavily, you saw the vulnerability in her eyes, the fragility of someone carrying the weight of an entire world on their shoulders. But you also saw something more — a renewed strength, a confidence. Because, even with the pain she carried, she knew you were there, by her side, for whatever came.

And you whispered back, with a soft but firm voice, so Wanda would know what you felt, without doubt, without hesitation. "I’m here, Wanda. Forever. And we will build all of this together. As many times as it takes."

She smiled, a smile mixed with tears and hope, as if, at that moment, the world was finally a place worth conquering. You knew their future would be unpredictable, but you also knew, with an almost palpable certainty, that they had found each other for the last time. And that, in the end, was all that mattered.

The kiss that followed was gentler, but no less intense. It was as if, in that moment, you were building a new beginning. The future, uncertain and challenging, seemed promising, because by her side, Wanda had everything she had always needed: you. And by your side, you had everything you had always wanted: her.

And so, in the silence of the night, with the rain tapping on the windows and the distant echoes of the camp, you and Wanda surrendered to this truth. A truth stronger than any magic, stronger than any fate. Because what you shared was eternal, and nothing, no one, could destroy it. The connection between you was stronger than anything that could be said. Stronger than any magic, stronger than any destiny. It was something intangible, yet as real as the air you breathed. Something eternal, that would withstand any battle, any pain.

And so, in the silence of the night, between the distant echoes of the camp and the touch of your bodies still tingling from the intensity of the kiss, you both knew that nothing else mattered. Because, in the end, you were together.

~*~

Oh. I need her.

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580 @valentine585

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @sheriffswan-blog @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

#wanda maximoff #mommy wanda #lgbtq #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x reader #lgbtqia #wlw post #mommy k!nk #wanda x you #mommy k1nk #wlw yearning #wlw nsft #wlw #sapphic #lesbianism #wlw ns/fw #lesbian #sapphism

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ghostymarni · 17 hours ago

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@foxwithadarkside AAAAAAHHHHH IM GIGGLING!!!! you have absolutely nothing to worry about vod <3 you have made my morning 😍 (kriff me I shouldn’t even be up yet)

I have the biggest grin on my face THIS IS AMAZING!!! <3 I love this + i am obsessed with this whole scene; everyone’s reactions are on point + is so chaotically accurate (also absolutely dying at fox + aev, I’m squealing at this point brb going to keep taking his things) 🤤🤭🤣😍❤️‍🔥🦊✨

Sorry about your block!

How about Gregor cooking in the kitchen? Like with a ridiculous apron on or something?

I think he would make a smiley face breakfast just because he could-

his apron says “free hot dog -> bring your own buns”

#the bun wars #vode apprecation #chaos squad #FOOOXXXX IM OBSESSED HEHEHEHEH #grumpy commander heart throb #I am absolutely in love with how you drew Aev #I am so honored and I’m still #giggling #heheh #help I’ve fallen for the marshal commander #Aev the mandalorian

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 1 day ago

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I was re-reading some of my old posts from when we got to the end of Meursault arc and looking at all the people who were asking “hey why didn’t Chuuya just kill Fyodor earlier”. And knowing what we know now… oh no.

So, I am very convinced that Chuuya was warned not to come into contact with Fyodor at all, as Dazai believed at that point that the ability was touch based. (I believe someone on here made a post where Dazai likely dug the body out of the wreckage instead of Chuuya because of this exactly.)

But anyways, as someone who still wishes there’d been more drama in this arc, I’d like to present to you a story divergence where Fyodor actually anticipates more of skk’s planning than they thought and had a trap in place based off of having observed their actions in Dead Apple. It leads to a much more dire situation where Dazai has to improvise on the fly, and he is actually willing to pull a sacrifice here to achieve the original plan of trapping Fyodor with the pilot. Something happens, and Dazai is too worried about Fyodor’s mysterious ability, and due to this uncertainty, he does not involve Chuuya in this updated last-ditch play. Fortunately or unfortunately, Chuuya recognizes that this plan (because they can basically read each other’s minds at this point) has a good chance of not actually working, and consequently, also a very good chance of killing Dazai for nothing, which infuriates Chuuya since he knows full well Dazai is doing this for the Agency and he’s “just gonna give up” when he’s clearly found a place for himself.

So, yeah, Chuuya makes his own autonomous choice and… kills Fyodor.

And everyone loses. Chuuya gets violently taken over by Fyodor, literally his worst nightmare. Dazai has to watch, knowing he fucked up. And Fyodor doesn’t manage to get killed by the vampire, so he doesn’t take over Bram, and he isn’t in the right place at the right time to cause the Tripolar Singularity. A single act of free will by a person Fyodor had written off as controllable may not have actually fixed things… but it certainly changed the story.

idk I just think this could be a fun premise :)

#storyrambles #bsd #Don’t take this super seriously I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense #I just felt like inflicting pain on people :)#bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #skk

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isawritesshit · 2 days ago

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The Color Blue - Chapter 3

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest; borders created by @anitalenia

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader, slightly ooc! (?) gojo, mostly fluff with a smidge of tension, cat :), small signs of past mental and physical abuse, violence, death, guns, knives, bit of blood, explosion cause by gojo’s technique, mentions of bruising and choking, brief threats, bits of trauma after an attack, healing myself a little after season 2, sharing a bed, gojo teasing, brief argument, reader says something about her not caring if she dies but doesn’t mean it, cursing, gojo has scars, cuddles and secret kisses :)

Author's Note: Hello everyone. This chapter has been a long time coming, and I apologize that I fell off the face of the earth. More of that will be explained later. However, I want to thank those that did message me and have been enjoying this story so far, but we know how life can get. I had a great time writing this during what little time I had, and it's also a little longer than my usual chapters. So, without further ado, here's chapter 3 !! Remember to catch up on The Color Blue if you haven't done so before reading !! For those of you who I may have forgotten to add in the taglist or would like to be added, comment below!

Word Count: ~8.8k

Apparently, even The Strongest got the jitters. Satoru didn't think it was possible, yet here he was, his leg bouncing as he sat in the back seat of the car as it pulled up to the long, winding driveway.

He would admit to himself that he was counting down the days, and then even the hours, until he got to see you again. It felt ridiculous at this point, the quickening heartbeat knowing you were getting closer by the second, the smile he tried to hide whenever you crossed his mind.

And the... other thoughts he had of you over his trip as well. He had those a little more than he was willing to admit in your absence.

The driver pulled up to the front entrance and Satoru retrieved his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He went up the steps, opened the door...

He frowned when you weren't on the other side. He thought that maybe you would greet him in the foyer. Oh well, just meant he would have to go looking for you. Satoru started with your shared kitchen, then the living room... maybe inside your bedroom?

He opened your door, calling your name. Immediately, as if startled, you jumped up from your bed, hands behind your back, the book in your lap clattering to the floor. Satoru's eyebrows raised at your sudden movement.

"W-welcome home, Satoru! How was your flight back?" you exclaimed. Something must be-

"Mmrreow..."

A cat's soft purr sounded in the air.

"Whatcha got there?"

"A book...?"

Satoru chuckled and smirked, his arms now resting at his sides. "I don't think that was a book..."

Your face scrunched up as your arms moved from behind your back. "Please don't be upset..."

You revealed a small ragdoll cat, probably only a few months old, it's singular eye scanning before it landed on Satoru. Satoru gasped and, like a child being presented with a new toy, threw his duffel bag aside and took the cat into his arms.

You've never heard a grown man squeal. That being said, your worried face softened into a grin.

"When did you get this little cutie?" Satoru laughed, turning the cat over in one arm to pet her little stomach.

"W-well... you told me before you left that... your money is my money, and I've always wanted a cat. I made sure I did my research, though! I bought her from a shelter, and made sure to get her the required vaccinations-"

"Does she have a name?" he exclaimed, handing the cat to you.

"I named her Sugar... if you don't like it, we can-"

"Sugar! Awww, that's the perfect name!!" he cooed, petting Sugar under her chin, her right and only eye squinting as she purred. "She already likes me too..."

Sugar moved out of his arms to lay on your bed as you strode to reach for a book on your dresser. A book for taking care of kittens, he realized. "You don't have to worry about taking care of her. I have her food ready for the next few months, the best kind I could find for her breed and age, and I already have her litter set up in the laundry room. I'm keeping her toys in my room as well," you explained, already paging through the book to support your points.

Satoru looked at you from where he started to kneel at the foot of your bed, getting up close and personal with the new feline friend. He admired your sudden commitment, but... "You don't want my help?" Satoru questioned, cocking his head.

"Well, I figured since I'm the one who bought her, I should take care of her. I don't want to inconvenience you," you answered, clasping your hands with the book in front of you.

"It's not really that much of an inconvenience. The only reason I never got one before was because I felt bad that I was almost never home. But now that you're here, it makes it a lot easier. It's not like you got a dog," he reasoned, now standing to full height while petting across the fur of Sugar's back. "If you really want to take full responsibility, that's fine, but I don't mind helping. I just can't promise I can or will want to change the litter."

You let out a small laugh. "I'm okay with that then..."

After a few moments of silence, you picked up your gaze from the floor, a soft smile on your face and a question on your tongue, only to see Satoru looking at you already.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He had such sweet eyes, like blue cotton candy, and the way he looked at you with them was even sweeter. A small blush warmed your cheeks as you averted your eyes. What were you going to say again?

"Something wrong, pretty girl?"

"W-what? Oh, no, I was just... going to ask how your trip was?"

Satoru shrugged. "Meh, nothing out of the usual. Just a few grade ones here and there, but finding a special grade was a little interesting. I took care of that one too. Oh, and there was this one store-"

Satoru ended up ranting about all of the new stores and restaurants he tried out for an hour, even if you did remember some of these places briefly from your short, daily phone calls. He even paused to retrieve something from his bag at one point: a delicate antique comb with pearls in the handle. A gift, as well as something that reminded him of you.

You took it from him to arrange in your jewelry box. You found it quite absurd that Satoru was telling you more about his leisure time that he spent in Kyoto rather than the curses he fought. You couldn't tell if he was just trying to spare you the gruesome details, or he if really didn't feel like it was that important to talk about. Perhaps to him, these curses were like stones on his path to be kicked or flies he shooed away from his face, barely worth mentioning. At least, that's what it seemed like to you.

It scared you a bit.

"(Y/N)?" Your thoughts broke as he said your name, one of his hands resting on Sugar as he sat by her and the other resting on his knee while he looked at you. "You good?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, I'm fine..."

"Really? You don't seem like it..." Satoru expressed, now rising from your bed to walk over to you. Since he had left, you had forgotten how much taller he was than you. "Is everything okay? I never got to ask how you were here without me..."

Your face shifted as he said that. "May I confess something?"

His eyebrows raised. "Yes, go ahead."

You held the book in your hands close to your chest. "When... when I first started to live here, I found your presence... unwanted and... a bit frightening. I got more accustomed to it and... as we became friends it had become normal. But when you left for this mission, I didn't realize how used to it I had gotten. So much so that... sometimes, when I found myself eating or going about the house or cleaning our living spaces, I would suddenly feel... I felt-"

"Is this your way of saying you missed me?" Satoru interrupted, a smug grin reaching the handsome planes of his face.

Your face flushed. "W-well, yes! But, what I was trying to get to is that-"

"I can't believe it. (Y/N) actually likes me! Maybe she won't move across the world from me after all, haha!!" Satoru gasped sarcastically before pumping his fist in triumph, to which you huffed. Satoru snickered, ruffling your hair. "Heeey, it's okay. You can admit that you missed your darling, awesome husband."

"Not just my husband. My friend," you returned, a grateful smile gracing your features. He mirrored that same smile, his hands on his hips. After a beat too long, you sauntered past him back to Sugar, who was now curled on your bed. "That being said, I think we should celebrate your return."

"Celebrate?" Satoru's eyes followed you as you walked, subtly taking the shape of your waist as you moved and shoving the ensuing thoughts deep down.

"Yes, as both a welcoming party for Sugar and for your return home," you replied, taking the slumbering kitten in your arms. "Also, mostly because I haven't had anyone to cook for this past week."

Satoru picked up his duffel bag and followed you out the door towards the stairs. "Surely that isn't the only reason you missed me?" he laughed.

"Well, nothing else is coming to mind," you joked right back, turning to him. Satoru looked back at you wide-eyed, an opened mouth grin forming on his face. Did you just... go along with one of his sarcastic gags? Telling by the little hidden smile you were giving him, you were.

This was new.

Satoru just huffed and shrugged, taking a step past you to open his bedroom door. "I think I'm rubbing off on you, pretty girl. Maybe I should've stayed away longer..."

You tried to hide your flush by avoiding eye contact, the sudden drop in octave in his voice causing you to go warm. He saw it anyway. Almost expected it at this point, given how predictable your reactions were. He stepped through his bedroom doorway, duffel bag on his shoulder once more, the epitome of smug satisfactory on his face.

Until you gripped his hand, looking up at him with eyes that could bring him to his knees. "I'm glad your home, Satoru."

It was the first time that you had ever initiated such contact. You knew it of course, and so did he. He clung to that unspoken fact, that knowing bit of trust and maybe something a bit more, as he engulfed your hand in his, giving it a small, warm squeeze.

"Me too..."

The two of you decided on a savory curry recipe for dinner. Nothing too fancy, but still delicious. Satoru chose to use the time as a way to try and test out that new found humor of yours, smiling to himself when he would get you to laugh or reply back with something witty. He'd been waiting to see this kind of side of you for a while, one that you had originally kept reserved, or maybe didn't even know that you had at all.

While eating, Satoru asked what you had been up to when he was away. "I was keeping up with my usual tasks. Nothing too special..." you said, looking down at your plate as you spooned some of the curry.

Satoru stared at you as you did, a small frown on his face. "So you didn't get out at all or do anything?" He also wanted to question why you couldn't seem to look at him right now, but he pushed the thought aside.

You shook your head, taking a bite. "Other than running errands or picking out Sugar, no."

"Well, maybe we should-"

Satoru paused.

You looked up at his sudden silence. "Satoru?"

He shushed you immediately, causing you to bite your tongue. He stared ahead, as if peering right through the wall ahead of him. He was peering right through the wall, using his Six Eyes. You could tell by the feint bits of cursed energy seeping into the room.

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, Satoru peeled himself from his seat, his expression suddenly hard. The staff had gone home for the day already, Sugar was sleeping under your feet... What could he possibly be going to check?

"Stay here," he murmured, his voice low. His tone sent a shiver of fear down your spine, not just because of its command, but for whatever the reason could be to change his demeanor so suddenly.

"Satoru, what is it-" you began, your voice hushed and brow furrowed. "Stay here," he growled, his head snapping in your direction as you barely rose from your seat. You complied, inching back down. "I'll be right back."

And with that, he moved, keeping a brisk pace as he opened the door that led to the rest of the estate, and shut it behind him. Worry began to coil in your gut, the thought of what could be so wrong that Satoru would have to just get up and leave. A few seconds passed, then a minute, more minutes...

You couldn't take it. You had to know something. Even if Satoru instructed you to stay put... as long as you didn't leave your shared part of the house, it would be okay, right? You rose from your chair slowly, the wood scraping against the floor as you padded over to the door at a snail's pace, an anticipatory feeling curling in your gut. Fear, something you knew almost all too well. It didn't help that your inner thoughts at the moment were your father's voice, laying out possible consequences and outcomes-

And yet, you grabbed the handle and swung the wide oak door open. Nothing but the dark hall and the stairwell beyond it greeted you.

"Satoru?" You thought that maybe he was playing a thoughtless prank, trying to scare you all for nothing. You almost expected him to pop out from behind you for a moment. No response.

You sighed, turning to shut the door, just before Sugar slipped past you, running. Of course, after her nap her boundless energy would push her towards the one place you didn't want her to be. You lunged forward to grab her, but the kitten only ran further away, as if daring you to catch her in some sort of game. If Satoru saw her, he would know that you must have opened the door at some point!

"Sugar!" you called, running down the hall after her.

"Who wants to tell me how you found my home? First to speak up dies last."

None of the thirty armed men standing in the garden said anything, sticking to aiming their useless guns. Satoru stood before them, arms crossed, the only thing between them and the house. And you.

"Okay, how about an easier question. Who hired you and how did you get past the wards?"

Wards had been placed all around the estate centuries ago when it was first built. No one had ever gotten past them. Until now.

It was almost embarrassing, too. None of these fuckers had any cursed energy, yet he had sensed them creeping through the treeline during dinner. He would've paid it no mind, since the barrier created by the wards should have stopped them. But they had walked right on through, and the barrier probably tickled them with a shock at best. He'd have to check their integrity later. But for now...

"Do I have to treat you like my students and pick on one of you?" Satoru snickered, a hand on his hip. This was a waste of time. The sooner he could get past the easy part, the sooner he could continue dinner with you and figure out who had sent these idiots so he could pay them a surprise visit. He didn't appreciate unexpected guests, especially while in the company of his wife.

Satoru sighed. "Okay then, you." Satoru pointed to one of the men on his left, and the man's arm twisted and exploded in blood and bone, causing him to let out a blood curdling scream. The men replied with open fire, to which Satoru easily blocked with his infinity.

Some of them refrained for a moment, realizing that this was no ordinary target, and that he was no ordinary man. The men stopped firing altogether, bewildered, and watched as the bullets clattered to the soft grass in front of him as he dropped his infinity.

"Should I ask one more time?" Satoru seethed lowly, stalking towards the group. A few of the sensible ones backed away a few steps. One man began to shake.

Satoru turned his head in that man's direction, watching him. The man cried out, and fired off his automatic rifle in a fit of terror, the bullets catching some of his team. The others began to fire with reckless abandon.

Satoru began to take care of them quickly, trying not to waste too much energy as he moved between each target. Move, apprehend, strike, kill, repeat. Move, apprehend, strike, kill, repeat. Each bit of blood he poured only hit the infinity barrier he kept up and blew off like rain on a windshield. But he needed to keep one alive-

There. One was running back through the trees; a coward then, someone likely to confess. He made quick work of the rest, before running after the escaping man not too far into the surrounding forest.

Satoru caught him by his shoulder, ripped his gun away, and flung him to the ground, putting his shoe to the man's chest. "Talk."

"I-I don't know-"

"Then know. Or you'll end up just like the rest."

"But I can't. I won't. He won't let me remember-"

Satoru's head inclined. "Who?"

The man beneath him let out a shaky breath, pointing back towards the house. Satoru's eyes widened, looking back and-

Someone was dragging you through the back garden doors. They had cursed energy.

Satoru teleported back in a heartbeat, right behind the person, bared hands going to wrap around their neck-

But they reacted too quickly. The person, a woman, whirled you in front of herself, holding you up by your neck as a shield. Your choking made Satoru see red.

"Not so fast, Limitless," she purred. "Step back, or I snap her neck."

It would be so easy to snap hers instead, but he didn't know her technique. He didn't know what she could do to you. He complied reluctantly, and the woman set you down and let you breathe before gently resting a jagged dagger against your throat.

The woman was clearly a cursed user of some kind. Tall, form fitting, her muscular body contrasting the elegance of her red kimono and feminine face. She flashed him a saccharine smile. Whoever she was, Satoru didn't recognize her.

"So nice to finally meet you," the woman careened. "Your wife and I have already gotten acquainted." She pressed the knife closer towards the soft expanse of your neck, the sharp edge tickling your skin. You winced.

"Satoru-"

"It's okay, (Y/N)," he breathed out. But it wasn't okay. He had been a damn fool, telling you stay in the house, unprotected. No, he was a fool for following that last attacker into the forest. He was only there to draw him out, so this woman could slip in undetected. "Why didn't you stay in put-"

"That was my doing, actually," the woman smiled, raising her other hand from your nape. Satoru tensed, but instead Sugar appeared from beside her. The woman moved her hand in a circular motion, and Sugar mimicked it, spinning at the same speed of her hand before walking off. "A little party trick. Mrs. Gojo seems rather fond of the animal, so I figured she would rush to protect it when it "decided" to run off." And lured you to the garden just so she could pluck you out.

So, mind control. That was her technique. Satoru huffed. "I will admit, I haven't seen that one before. But what do you want?"

The woman shrugged. "Why don't you guess?"

Satoru's eyes narrowed, trying not to let his slight panic get to him as he saw tears begin to slip down your face. She would pay for that. "Well, lots of people have their reasons. There's always a price for my head, so it could be that, but you seem pretty smart. You know you can't kill me," the woman grinned, "so you went for her. And now I have to... give you something, I presume?"

"Perhaps." The woman began thrumming her fingers on your collarbone. "It is something that you have. Try thinking a little harder."

Satoru crossed his arms, making a show of trying to come up with an answer. "Well, I do have a lot of money, but with your talents you don't seem to need to get it from me. I have valuable information on a vast variety of top secret jujustu subject matters, but really, you don't have to go through me to get those, and, even if you did, I really don't remember anything important, I mean, c'mon look at me. Sooo... other than that I would assume you're trying tooooo get my attention? In which case then, oh, I'm flattered and you seem like a nice gal, but I'm a married man so... what do you want?"

"I want her, dumbass," the woman growled, clearly upset by Satoru's rambling. She pressed the knife point underneath your chin, your chest heaving as you groaned. "Do you know what people would do for Death Immunity? What anyone would-"

"Oh, well, you could've just said so," Satoru grumbled. "Anyway, she-"

A thousand blades lunged at light speed from the trees, all aimed for him, which he deflected without a thought. He turned his head to look at them once they had clattered against the concrete, the knives identical to the one the woman was holding against you. "Geez, did you do that? Where were you keeping all those?" He put a hand to his head, trying to peer into the direction they came from.

The woman's demeanor went from peeved to panic when her surprised attack failed, clutching you tighter in her grasp, her grip beginning to bruise along your collarbone.

"Well, as I was saying," Satoru continued, turning back to the assailant. His eyes briefly took in the woman's nails digging into your skin, his voice rumbling a shade darker. "She's already mine, so I'm afraid you've come here for no fucking reason, other than to get killed. So, without further ado-"

Satoru raised his arm with killer quickness, a blue flash from his hand near blinding you as he aimed and released it into the woman's face. Before the blast could fully take, he pulled you to his chest, turning and shielding you both with his infinity as the woman's head was detonated so fast that her vocal cords were incinerated before she could scream.

You let out a painful sob as he pulled you to his chest firmly, hunching over you with an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders. Only when he felt the implosion recede and heard the woman's body thump to the ground did he stand fully and let you turn around. "Are you hurt-"

Your first reaction was to look behind him to where the woman's corpse was still smoking, or what was left of it. "No, no, don't look," he murmured, forcing your head back into his chest. You were a mess, breath heaving, sobs racking your throat, eyes puffy and still crying fat tears.

" 'M sorry! 'M so sorry-" you choked.

"Don't apologize, you're okay now. I've got you. You're safe," Satoru whispered, trying to ground you, rocking you side to side as he cupped your face firmly, bringing his forehead to yours. His hands were warm, so unlike that woman's. Thumbs wiping your tears, he stroked your cheek as if it was the only thing able to pull you back to reality. "You're safe. I've got you."

The investigation at the Gojo estate started within an hour of the attack and was still ongoing the next morning. Members of Jujustu High's Tokyo staff came to help with investigation and cleanup. After they debriefed you, Satoru asked Suguru if the two of you could crash at his apartment for a while, just until he was sure that the location of this estate and the others under the Gojo name were secure. Suguru agreed, leaving with you in tow so you could get some rest and to make sure you were well protected.

Now, those involved in the investigation met in the estate dining room. The chandelier light played off the ancient mahogany walls, overshadowed by the streams of golden sunlight bleeding through the skinny, arching windows and glinting against the many colored alcohol bottles sitting on the flight of shelves against the opposite wall.

Nobody reached for a glass though.

The first one to speak was Ijichi, having entered the room minutes after everyone else. "We have identified the female curse user," he said, passing off a matching folder to each person sitting at the table. "Her name was Kawate Kiko, a curse user who has been hired by many crime organizations and other private buyers for her skills, both in hunting humans and curses."

"And her cursed technique was mind control?" Yaga began.

"No."

All the heads turned to Satoru, sitting cross legged, eyes unreadable behind his glasses. He had switched out his t-shirt and sweats from earlier to his official uniform. "It wasn't mind control. She was able to manipulate knives telepathically at rapid speeds, at numbers probably close to 100."

Shoko set down the file. "Do we have any clue who may have hired her and these men? Or what their motive may have been? Perhaps she hired them to help her."

Yaga grumbled. "Well, if someone didn't blow her face off-"

"Sorry that I didn't give a fuck. Not when she was holding a knife to my wife's throat," Satoru said lowly and firmly. The room went quiet before he sighed and spoke again. "Things don't add up. The men, we know, were all ex-convicts and low lives of local Tokyo crime rigs, with little to no connection to one another or any part of the jujustu world. They would have had no reason to suddenly band together for a hunt like this, especially with someone of Kawate's caliber. Secondly, the man that I hunted down in the forest said he didn't know why he was there and that someone, a he, was preventing him from remembering. Not she. And with 30 non-curse users getting through the estate ward barrier with guns and armor they had no money to possess... there had to have been someone else here tonight with those assets and that technique. Someone with enough caliber to hire someone like Kawate to play along with them. Someone behind the scenes of everything."

"But I thought they were after (Y/N). Why the hell would the other guy not show himself after Kawate was killed?" Kusakabe grumbled.

"Cowardice? Maybe realizing that the entire operation was an impossible job and decided to flee?" Shoko proposed.

Yaga leaned back in his chair. "What doesn't make sense is that someone must have had access to these wards or known how to manipulate them. No one else has access, right?"

Satoru shook his head. "I'm the only person alive that should know how to work mine, but that doesn't mean someone somehow could have been taking the time to study them and learned to break them. But that would also require an insane amount of energy, not to mention the knowledge behind such ancient artifacts."

"But who would try that when they know you could detect them from miles away?" Kusakabe countered.

"I wasn't home this past week, and (Y/N) can't detect them," Satoru pointed. "They must have done it then."

"Do you know who was here, then?" Yaga questioned.

"(Y/N) never mentioned visitors. I could always ask her to see," Satoru replied. "Anyways, tell my students they have the next week off. Little impromptu study week. I'm going to find the clowns that started this," Satoru groaned, stretching as he pushed back his chair. "You guys can handle the rest here, yeah? I'm pooped."

"But this is your house-" Yaga protested, but didn't continue as Satoru meandered out the door.

Suguru let him in to his complex at 9:26am, riding up the elevator and walking down the hall to his place. Satoru always envied Suguru whenever he walked into this apartment, that he had a place to be truly his. Well, as much as Mimiko and Nanako, his adoptive daughters, would let him, with their free range on the decorating. Suguru had saved the two of them with Satoru's help from a village that meant to imprison and abuse them. Shortly after, Suguru had bought this place with what money he had amassed over the years, a home for him and the girls, one where they could heal and form a sense of new identity, Suguru included. And for him, that meant taking the two seven year olds under his wing.

Suguru said something about how had he had been going over the reports that Ijichi had dropped off before he arrived, and while Satoru was happy to catch him up, he just wanted to talk to you, see how you were holding up.

"I think she's still sleeping," Suguru informed, probably sensing his unease. "She didn't end up going to bed until early this morning. She wanted to go take a walk, but I convinced her tea would be better. That was at 4am, and I haven't heard her since."

Satoru thanked Suguru, and walked down the narrow hallway to the guest bedroom, one that he had grown accustomed to staying in when the estate felt too big and he felt too lonely. He pried open the door softly, peering through the crack to see your form under the blankets, and stepped inside. He made quiet work of changing out of his uniform, picking out a pair of pajama pants you had folded and neatly packed into his duffel bag before you left, and sat on the edge of the bed opposite of you, the bed creaking under his weight.

He observed how you were curled into a fetal position, your arms wrapped around a pillow (that he instantly grew envious of), and while the sight would have made him smile, he could see the other things too. Your hair looked unkempt and limp, you were still wearing the same clothes, and he couldn't smell your usual vanilla and lavender bath oil, meaning you probably didn't shower. Besides the wanting to take a walk, Suguru never mentioned you wanting to cook or read or maybe even clean, activities that Satoru had known you to do when restless or stressed. You probably only passed out from pure exhaustion.

He hated he couldn't have been here sooner. Hated that he told you to stay inside. Hated he didn't just deal with the problem as soon as possible before they could draw you out like that. Hated that he had just come home and now you both have these other problems to deal with.

He was going to have ask you more questions when you got up too, but for now... he needed sleep. Badly. Didn't even care how much he needed a shower right now or that he was about to sleep next to you in the same bed for the first time.

Satoru got under the blanket, the bed just big enough for there to be about a foot of room between the two of you. He turned on his side and stared at your back, wanting to close that distance so desperately, to pull you right into his chest, into his arms, and to feel your warmth and your breathing against him to remind him that he was next to you, and that you were safe. To feel your hair against his face and neck, your skin underneath his fingertips.

Instead he just stared. And then slept.

When Satoru awoke again, the sun was already setting. As soon as he arose to look for you, Suguru's girls were already dragging him down towards the living room floor to stick butterfly clips and extensions into his hair. It wasn't until he was able to turn in the direction of the kitchen that he saw you stirring something over the stove as Suguru stood next to you, a drink in his hand as he spoke softly. To his surprise, you replied to each thing he said with equal calmness.

Shortly after the two of you had married, Satoru did want to introduce Suguru to you, but after seeing how you reacted to being around just him, he didn't want to put you into a situation you might be uncomfortable with. However, it seems now that maybe Satoru didn't have to worry. You two appeared to have similar personalities anyway. He's surprised he didn't think of that to begin with.

Even as the girls stepped around him from where he sat, Satoru could barely make out the bruises from where Kawate had gripped you whenever you turned to face Suguru, who seemed to have gotten you onto the topic of whatever dinner you were making. Good. Getting your mind off the past 24 hours will help you to better process everything later, when Satoru would inevitably have to ask more questions.

It was odd. Normally, you would let him know you were having visitors coming over the second you knew. Unless since he was gone you decided to not tell him, or maybe they came over unexpectedly? Whoever they were, they would only be able to study the wards from the inside, so anyone who would have visited the estate is a potential suspect. His staff had all been questioned that morning and ruled out as well, so it had to have been anyone you had contact with from outside the estate wards.

And what was Death Immunity-

Satoru's thoughts were interrupted by the girls shoving a handheld mirror in his face for him to look at his new hairdo, the white tuffs of his hair being littered with colorful bits like confetti frosting. "Wow, you two, I'm gorgeous! What's next? My nails? My face?" Satoru exclaimed, touching up his hair and making faces that made the girls squeal in fits of giggles.

"How about dinner?" Suguru chimed in, arms crossed as he stood before the three of them with a smile. In the background, you were busy pouring whatever was in the pot into bowls for the five of you, adding ice cubes into the girls' portions.

Satoru stood, letting Nanako and Mimiko drag him into a chair between the two of theirs as you and Suguru sat across from them. Suguru helped you carry the bowls filled with a veggie and beef stew to the table with glasses of water to drink. The spirited conversation of the children kept the table from going completely silent, which Satoru was thankful for, but he kept his eyes on you throughout most of the meal, watching as you smiled sometimes and nodded but never really gave much input into anything. He knew you were still trying to work through everything that happened. In fact, given your reaction, maybe last night was the closest you've ever actually been to death. The jujustu community had become so desensitized to it that even he forgot to check in on how the view of a smoking corpse or the feeling of a blade to your skin may have affected you.

Soon enough the two of you were beginning to hand wash the dishes, Satoru giving Suguru a thankful nod as he guided Mimiko and Nanako to their rooms when they tried to pull Satoru back to their makeshift salon. You and him fell quickly into a rhythm, with you washing something before handing him it to dry, the light over the dining table behind both of you providing enough visibility.

"Geto is a nice man. Those girls seem to appreciate him as well," you murmured, taking Satoru a little by surprise. He didn't expect you to speak up.

"Yeah, he's a good guy," Satoru replied. "A great sorcerer too as much as he is a dad. I'm lucky he's my best friend."

You hummed and smiled to yourself. "That's good."

After a moment, Satoru snickered, "So, you think he's attractive?"

You furrowed your brow, holding the newly washed dish away from him as you turned your face in his direction. "Satoru, that's not funny."

"You're not denying iiiitt~" he sang, smiling wider and pointing at you with the towel.

"No, I don't think that. Why would you say that?" you muttered sharply, handing him the bowl you had in hand before reaching for the soap to scrub the pot. "Well, you two seemed to be chatting it up over here while you were making dinner," he teased, laughing to himself. He didn't even know why he was asking these things. He knew teasing you was normal, but why about this? Why now? Of course he wanted to take your mind off of things but-

"He was talking to me about you, Satoru," you replied, a slightly hardened look on your face. "I don't want you to think that-"

"Think what? That you might have feelings for someone? Shh, it's okay, I won't tell," he whispered with a laugh. You were talking about him? "Really, (Y/N), your secret-"

"Satoru, why are you asking me this?" you interrupted, handing him the last pot. "Why are you..." You shook your head before continuing, opting to walk to the bedroom you two were sharing. "Wait, (Y/N)-" Satoru set the pot into the sink with the towel, his large steps quickly catching up with you as the two of you stepped through the doorway. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." "I know," you murmured, gently sitting on the bed. "I know you're just... trying to take my mind off of things, which I appreciate. But-"

"Yeah, I shouldn't have done it like that, I know. That was a kinda dick way to do it," Satoru said, scratching that back of his head. You grit your teeth, folding your hands in your lap. "It's okay... I understand." After a pause you added. "I've been worried for Sugar this whole time." "She's okay. We just want to be sure she's safe before we can have custody of her again. And don't worry, Shoko has cats of her own. She knows how to treat them good." Satoru made sure it was Shoko that got to examine Sugar and not someone that would cut her open and dissect her like some common animal. You nodded along to his words, staring at the wall ahead.

"I... the other sorcerers at Jujustu Tech. They wanted me to ask some things... if that's okay. If not we can wait till later-" he began. Maybe be shouldn't bring this up now. "Didn't they already ask me questions?" you muttered. "Yes, but..." Satoru kneeled in front of you were you sat, taking your hands in his. You almost had to stop yourself from letting out a laugh at the butterfly clips still in his hair. "(Y/N), it's imperative that you answer me honestly when I ask this."

Your eyes met his, your eyes narrowing in confusion. "Ask what? What more is there to ask?"

"Was there anyone that visited you during the time I was gone? Anyone that normally would not be at the house?"

Your mouth opened to speak, the answer clearly on the tip of your tongue. "W... why? Do you think they did this? How? Was it not somehow that woman that you-" "I don't know, (Y/N), but what I do know is that if there was anyone you would have known about being on our property that is otherwise not welcome, they may have had a hand in destabilizing our wards, and I want us to be safe so we can return." Satoru squeezed your hands once more. "Was there anyone?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. Once. Twice. You sighed. "My brother, Keisuke."

Your brother? "Why did he come?"

You shook your head. "No, Satoru, he would never do anything like this-"

"(Y/N), I'm not saying he did but I need to start somewhere so that I can ensure that you and our home is safe. You understand, right?" Why were you so defensive suddenly? What did your brother do there?

"It wasn't his fault. There was no way he would have had any involvement! He wouldn't want to-"

Satoru stood. "You were almost kidnapped! You could have died-"

"And so what if I did!"

A beat.

"What."

Your hands clasped over your mouth. You looked like you were about to apologize. Satoru stood. "(Y/N)." Your fists clenched. You were probably holding back tears. "(Y/N). Don't you ever, ever, say something like that about yourself." "I'm sorry-" "Don't apologize," he hushed, now moving to sit beside you, an arm around your shoulders. "Just... you don't have to." The two of you paused for minutes, not saying a word. He suddenly began to feel guilty, both for his teasing and for pressing you for details when the attack barely happened 24 hours ago. Hell, you could have died not too long ago, and now he was treating you like this. "We can talk about this later," Satoru murmured. "It was wrong of me to bring it up." "No... it's alright," you whispered, hands coming to fold in your lap. "I'm sorry for arguing with you and... for my outburst." "Don't sweat it." "Is this what's its like to have an argument? And to then forgive immediately after?" "Yeeeep." He added a little pop at the end. "It feels wrong. But civil. But... wrong." "Well, that's because most arguments just feel wrong. I like to think of them as passionate conversations, albeit sometimes with more hurtful comments or name calling." Satoru stood and started walking to the bathroom. "But we didn't call each other names..." you murmured. "We can right now if you want stinkybutt," he replied, turning to lean against the doorway while crossing his arms. He nodded in your direction. "Okay then... uhm... asswipe." "Woah, bringing out the big guns I see." Satoru placed a hand to his chest as if hurt, a playful grin on his face. "I didn't even know you knew how to curse, old lady!" You dropped your mouth in a playful shock. "Well, I'm just imitating the best potty mouth I know, pompous bitch!" He snickered before firing back. "You little asshole!" "Bastard!" "Fucker!" "Dick!" "Motherfucker!" "Dick for brains!" "Pretty girl..." Your next insult halted in your throat, his little purr of those two words forcing a red shade to your cheeks. Before you could react, he spun into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it with a click. "H-hey, that wasn't fair!" you protested, getting up from where you sat on the bed. "What?! Can't talk right now I'm taking a shit!" he yelled back, the shower turning on immediately afterward. You just shook your head, smiling as you sighed. You changed into your nightgown, figuring you might as well lay down and wait until he was done so you could brush your teeth. Was it really only a few minutes ago that the two of us were fighting? The conversation shifted so quickly. Did he do that on purpose? While almost any argument you had ever had ended quickly, it was almost never forgotten nor forgiven. Its reminders sometimes stayed on your body for days at a time. Either way, you were grateful. He was so good at distracting you from things, even things like near death experiences. Distractions. Was this what this was? You still went to bed feeling lonely each night, but the next day he made you forget that you ever did. Maybe that was all you needed, all that anyone ever needed. To go to bed lonely, wake up, interact, forget, and then remember. You spent so much of your days alone before all of this. Does this mean you've become something normal? Perhaps. But was it still normal to feel incomplete?

You were so busy contemplating and staring at the wall that you didn't notice Satoru beginning to sit on the other side of the bed beside you, hair free of butterfly clips. Your thoughts broke when you heard the bed creak, making you turn over to face him.

His shirtless body was backlit from the brightness of his phone screen as he sat on the edge of the mattress. As he scrolled, you quickly noticed the faint scars that were littered across the impressive expanse of his back. Were they from trainings, or from actual battles? Either way, you were surprised that he had any at all because of his technique. You assumed this whole time that his skin would be completely unblemished from any kind of visible injury. Not that you're thinking much about his skin...

Your thoughts were broken again when he plugged his phone into the charger on the nightstand and turned it off. Despite your panic, you didn't move from how you were laying.

Satoru didn't seem to mind. He stretched his arms above his head, shoulders and biceps flexing, as he turned and got underneath the covers. He snickered when he found you already looking at him. "See something you like?" Satoru muttered deeply, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows for effect.

He didn't need a light to be on to be able to see the color on your cheeks, but he chuckled as you tried to turn away all flustered. "Hey now, I'm just joking. I'm sorry." Satoru placed a hand to your shoulder, motioning for you to face him again. The skin of your shoulder was surprisingly cold, but that didn't take away from its silken feel. You shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek as you murmured an apology.

You'd never shared a bed with anyone in your life. It was odd, but with Satoru, you didn't feel too uncomfortable luckily. You've heard horror stories about other women sharing beds with their husbands. The snoring, the problems with space, being too hot or too cold, too many blankets and pillows or too little, the types of mattresses they preferred, etc. While you did share a bed with him last night, there was no telling if he had any of those issues since you were already asleep when he came to bed.

However, you did remember how he looked when he was still asleep after you woke up. It was... too peaceful of a look for a man that had just killed for you less than 24 hours before.

He had killed for you. And now you were sharing a bed with him.

Killed. Well, you knew way before marrying him that he had done such before. Why does this suddenly change your perception of him?

Yet despite that, you assumed he was a sound sleeper, which you could be thankful for even though you probably will not have to share a bed with him much in the future. It's quite interesting that an attack is what led to you both doing so for the first time. You'd like to wonder what would have had to happen for you to see him asleep like that without the current contexts.

What a weird thing to think about.

"Goodnight (Y/N), sweet dreams." "Goodnight Satoru."

Before long, you were realizing it was going to be very hard for you to fall asleep. You tried counting your breaths to focus on doing so, something that would usually have you out in no time.

You counted up to 256 before deciding to give up.

Your head turned to where Satoru was laying with his back to you, his breaths steady. Once again, your eyes caught the scars of his back that barely peaked over what the blanket covered.

You let out a heavy breath.

"Satoru." "Mmmm?" He's awake. "How did you get the scars on your back?" "Oh y'know," a yawn, "mostly sparring and whatnot. Maybe a curse here or there." "Oh." "Oh?"

You paused a little. "I thought... your technique prevented others from being able to touch you. I thought that..." "That I was indestructible?" He chuckled, his voice low. You shifted a little. "I'm sorry, I-" "No, it's fine. You don't have to apologize for asking." After a moment, Satoru added, "As you probably... have noticed, it's important for me to be able to defend myself without my technique to aid me, to prepare for any worse case scenario. Lot of these are curtesy of Suguru being too rough on me, heh. But... I was never always a full expert when it came to my technique, contrary to what most people believe. I had to become an expert. These just show part of the path to doing it."

You hummed in response.

"But don't worry, they don't call me The Strongest for nothing. I'm fully capable of protecting-" Satoru paused when he felt your fingers brush his shoulder.

Just before he could register it, you quickly moved them away, withdrawing your hand beneath the covers. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."

"No," he murmured, shifting himself to face you now, his head propped up by a hand as he reached to grab your hand and place it right over his heart. You stared at where his palm held your fingers against the expanse of his chest, his skin warm and dare you say inviting.

"(Y/N)," he whispered, your open gaze locking onto his sincere one, "just because my technique prevents others from touching me doesn't mean I don't like to be touched."

Your mouth slightly agape, you took in the planes of his handsome face against the rays of a streetlight coming in from the window, hitting the blinds and creating stripes against his face in the dark. One of those stripes hit his eyes, which you took in first, and made your way down, observing the clean slope of his nose, his shaped lips, down the curve of his neck to your hand and back up.

The way Satoru looked at you then, he knew. He knew that you needed him, but not in some passionate or carnal way, but in a way that someone wants cream and sugar in their coffee, or a candle in their book nook on a rainy day. Something familiar, yet more. And even if he had just killed someone yesterday for you, to protect you, he was still the person that you found comfort in each day. That made you feel somewhat worth something more than a last name a potential asset.

"You look cold." The timbre of his voice could have probably warmed you from the inside out, but only for a moment.

"Yes, I think so."

"Then c'mere pretty girl."

Did Satoru expect last night to go the way it did? Definitely not. But when he felt you take the little extra initiative to barely touch his back, he knew he had to make it go that way.

He didn't anticipate or really want anything more than just the cuddling. It didn't take long for you to warm up and fall asleep, listening to the sound of his heart. He was surprised that you didn't ask why it was beating so fast, let alone fall asleep as swiftly as you did while having to hear it.

But he was right, your body did fit perfectly against his. Your head had rested against him sweetly, cushioned by that spot between his chest and shoulder. His arms had wrapped around you, his hands finding purchase on your back and waist. The position of his chin on your head gave him perfect access to kiss your forehead if he wanted to, but he didn't want to push the boundaries too far.

Okay, maybe he ended up giving you two anyway. He tried to hold out and lasted probably about 30 minutes. He just couldn't help it! Not to mention, you smelled so good-

He was half tempted to give you another one right now as you two lay here the next morning, with you still blissfully unconscious. On the nightstand behind you two, your phone began to buzz with a call. Whoever was trying to get you awake right now could go to hell. He didn't want this moment to end.

However, even after the person had called you another time, and then proceeded to leave four more texts, Satoru figured he would see what the fuss was about.

He strained to reach behind him, careful not to disturb your slumber, as he grabbed your phone from the nightstand. Turning it on, he smiled at the already established lock screen of Sugar before noticing the messages.

Keisuke Kamo

Hey, glad to hear you're alright. Just heard about the attack last night.

Keisuke Kamo

I know I had just visited recently, but we need to talk. In person, preferably.

Keisuke Kamo

Just call me back when you can so we can set something up. Please bring Gojo Satoru with you too.

Keisuke Kamo

Please (Y/N). This is serious...

Turns out Satoru wouldn't be able to enjoy your brief solace for much longer.

Tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby--vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox @tqd4455 @stxrrielle @rebirth-of-destruction @yoichiislovie @thesoftugly @gojonegs

thanks for being patient <3

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bubbipond · 2 days ago

Text

I knew media literacy was down while watching We Are and people were hating on Fang for not being as lovey dovey as Tan. Incapable of seeing that Fang had his own form of "lovey dovey" in his actions versus Tan and his words. So people watching dramas like The Heart Killers and straight up missing very obvious points doesn't shock me. I'm not making fun of people by any means, I just think too much of the QL media world lacks some form of literacy while watching these shows.

People are bad mouthing Kant like he's some sort of supervillain or antagonist. You don't even need knowledge of Taming of the Shrew to understand the dynamics between the four mc's (though if you want some, there are people on here diving into that). My point is, Kant, Style, Bison, and Fadel are not meant to be squeaky clean characters. I mean two of them are manipulating the other two, sleeping with them, and lying to them. While the other two are literal murderers. You aren't supposed to think these guys are totally upstanding. But the emphasis on Kant hate is bizarre.

Especially since Kant has always had most to lose in this. Style only really has to worry about his own safety but he already knows Fadel won't kill him.

Bison/Fadel could easily kill both boys or get "mom" to fix their issues. So they both have ways out regardless of both being in love. But Kant has always had no way out. So much of this story is a conversation about what people will do when they are desperate with backs against the wall. Outside of Style, the other 3 had lives they had no control over.

There's so many layers and social issues at play in this that I cannot fathom people focusing on hating Kant. But that's just me.

+Don't even say that I am a firstkhao Stan which is why I'm saying this because this is actually only the second time l've watched them. The only other time was OF and I didn't even watch that for them. So this has nothing to do with bias.

#Watch someone prove my point #either in the tags or coming into my asks #the heart killers #the heart killers the series #fadelstyle #kantbison #joongdunk #joong archen #dunk natachai #firstkhao #we are series #we are the series #we are #tanfang #Al #Thai bl

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allmylovc · 2 days ago

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how did heartless!chris and reader meet?

heartless!chris && you meet for the first time.

His frat was having their annual begining of the school year party, they had every year. your friend had invited you, and at first you weren´t really sure if you should even go, but you decided, why not? it was the begining of the year and you wanted to 'let loose' a little before classes started.

You got all dressed up, with a pretty little dress, and headed over to the party. Once you got there, there were hundreds of people almost, the backyard and front yard filled with empty red solo cups, and empty beer bottles, the music could be heard from down the street. It was insane.

As you looked around, trying to spot any familiar faces, you met eyes with him. Christopher sturniolo, the man whore of the campus, and he was finer than you imagined. His gaze dropped down to your body, taking in every inch. Then he met eyes with you again, and he smirked before looking away, and talking to his friend again, as if nothing happened.

After you had walked away, he nudged his friend "Who´s that?" he said nodding his head towards you. His friend; nate shrugged and shook his had "No clue, man." he said before going back to yapping about whatever he was talking about before.

While you made your way through the crowd of people, and a bunch of couples making out─you headed over to the kitchen, where the drinks were, got yourself a red solo cup, but before you could actually pour yourself anything, someone interrupted you.

"This is good shit." a sudden voice called out, pointing towards the clear glass bowl, with a weird blue substance in it.

You looked over, and met eyes with chris, once again. you furrowed your eyebrows "What is it?" you asked with a disgusted face. He chuckled "I have no idea, but it´s really good." he said as he poured himself another cup and took sip.

Your eyes narrowed, what if there was some weird thing in it, and you got really sick after? "yeah.. no thanks." you chuckled nervously, reaching for a beer in the cooler and pouring it in your cup, he scoffed "Basic." he teased with that snarky smirk on his face.

He took another sip, eyeing you as you took a sip of yours aswell. The way your lips wrapped around the brim of the cup was turning him on, even if it was just a normal gesture. He just couldn´t help his mind from wandering.

"I´m not basic." you shrugged "Just don´t wanna get posinoned." you said, turning around to face him, met with his smirk once again. He nodded "Right, right." he said quietly.

He put his cup down "This music´s good." he said bopping his head to the beat, you nodded with a smile "Yeah." you agreed "C´mon. Let´s dance." he suggested. You furrowed your eyebrows and chuckled "I don´t even know you." he smiled at that "Yeah, but you will soon." he shrugged, as he took your hand and headed towards the crowd filled with people dancing.

Immediately you regretted every decision that led up to this "this isn´t really my scene─" "C´mon!" he cut you off "Just dance or something." he shrugged with an adorable little giggle.

You bit your lip and shook your head, he huffed and rolled his eyes, taking your hand, and turning you around, your back facing him as he put his hand on your hips and swayed you around "Just feel the beat." you said in your ear. You let out a sigh, and did as he said, moving your hips along the music.

He smiled "There you go!" he said in a cheerful tone. Keeping his hands grounded on your hips as he moved slightly closer to you. You both just kept dancing along to whatever music played for the rest of the night. You had never even met him before, sure, you´ve heard plenty of stories about him; mostly bad ones. But that wasn´t your concern right now.

All you cared about at the moment was him, and this stupid song you two were dancing too, and letting loose for the night, letting all your worries slip away.

⊹ yap — YAY! this may be the only time i write a blurb with heartless!chris that doesn´t involve him being lowkey a bitch & manipulative liar🙃 & thank you to this amazing anon for the request! also i apologize if there are any misspelled words, or if my grammar is bad. english is not my first language.

tags: @marrykisskilled @chrislilcumslvt @sosasturns @cyberskulzzz @slut4chris888 @waitforyrlove @zebonos @sturnioloangell @slctsblogana @anyaa2s @emely9274 @shadowthesim @frankoceanfanpage @mrsarnold @freshloveee @t0riiiis @jetaimevous @sturn777 @sturniologirlzz @venusbabysblog @ch6rm @sturniolossss @mattsbrowser @sturnlsstuff @chrissweetheart

#libary ˚₊ ⊹#heartless!chris ⊹#chris x you #chris owen #chris x reader #christoper sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo #christoper sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo

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just-null · 2 days ago

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*gives null his favorite things in hopes of thinking about this*

What if, from all the stalking the Hantengu clones had done to their darling, their darling develops a lot of paranoia and doesn't let anyone near anymore?

Or maybe their darling has a lot of trauma from man going awful, unspeakable things to them?

((I don't know if I should refer to their darling as female or male and that's my first time ever asking a favorite creator of mine, please don't judge me))

((the Darling can be whatever you want them to be, but I'll always be as neutral as possible, so don't worry! 🐸💖))

Considering that these men are also horrible, it's not surprising at all to find yourself going insane! I wasn't sure whether not letting anyone close included the boys or not, so I did both!

[Cw! Yandere behavior, unhealthy dynamics, obsession, manipulation]

Your sudden shift was wonderful at first! They finally had you all to themselves, and it gave them so much more time to evenly spread your attention between themselves without getting into usual fights.

When finding out about your paranoia, they feed into it, affirming your fears about others just to have you rely on them further. Never stray too far, not like you can, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

Do you want to go out but you're too scared? Wait, right there, they need to decide who goes first to clear the way while the others stay close by!! that way no one will bother you!

Their favorite hobby is stealing—er—borrowing! so you don't even need to worry about something as silly as money or finance to get what you want again!! All you need to do is ask, and it's yours.

Their bias is prominent. Where hantengu would yelp and shout, they'd laugh and scold, but if you were to do the same, they'd comfort and coo. It's cute.. do you want them to get rid of something for you? Hold you? Comfort you?

Nothing really annoys them (aside from each other) now that you fully rely on them. Be as clingy and jumpy as you want, and they'll coddle you. Being spoiled rotten is the goal as long as you continue to cower at the sight of another soul or the thought of being alone.

They almost seem like decent lovers at some point, solely focusing on you and your needs. Jealousy is at an all time low now that they don't have to worry about anyone else. They even begin to hide their violent tendencies, too happy that you're with them to care.

It gets to the point where THEY had to be the ones to leave for important tasks lest they be.. "scolded" by a man you don't need to stress over.

It's devastating when they separate from you.. When they fight, their attacks are ruthless. Brutal. Bloody.. Even Urogi and Karaku are more productive because the image of their beloved all alone and trembling has their unbeating hearts aching.

Even with all this, they're still scummy rats who work together to make sure things go their way.

Sekido doesn't rile up your paranoia unless you insist on going somewhere alone. "Be careful, don't wander off. Yell and I'll go get you, who knows what's out there." He's content with your fears already. In fact, he's.. sweeter. He doesn't get as mad as he used to, only slightly irritated.

Seeking him out to protect you from something small gets the most blissed out expression from him momentarily. His hold is still as firm as ever, but he doesn't insult you as harshly. Quiet grumbles like "Such a baby.. what is it this time?" are frequent, yet he does whatever you want.

Karaku is NOT helping at all. Ever since he noticed you got jumpier, he thought it'd be fun to make you squirm, though he probably teases too much and makes you cry.. Pointing and gasping at nothing, making noises from other rooms, asking, "Did you hear that?" until you're visibly shaking from every little creak.

But it's okay. He opens his arms every time and pets your head, cooing at you, "D'aww, don't start the waterworks, c'mere. I'll knock it off, I was just playing..! Even if I wasn't, you really think I'd let something get you? Never!"

Urogi probably will give you terrifying heart attacks. Because you're so dependent on them now, he can't contain his love for you the second he sees you. One second, you're conversing with one of the boys, then the next a blur of feathers and glowing yellow eyes barrels towards you, toppling you to the floor.

He can hear your heart beating through your chest as he presses his ear against it. He loves the sound!! "Did I scare you again? Hahaha!! You know it's only me who does this to you!! Anybody else would be dead before they even made contact. I love how warm you are, the thump of your heart, the feel of your skin, everything about you makes me too happy!!"

Aizetsu is your worst enemy.. He needs a damn bell! Each step is too quiet, and he knows this. it's purposeful. You need to remember why you're paranoid in the first place, so he lurks around, letting you find him if he's feeling kind or giving you that feeling of being watched if he's not. He doesn't do it for long, preferring to be the one you hold instead of watching the others make an opportunity out of his methods.

When he lets you find him, he pouts, tilting his head as if you're the one who intruded on him. "Dont mind me, I'm making sure everywhere is safe. Did you need something..? Or did you feel how much i missed you? Oh, you're so nice to me.."

———

But then.. you began growing distant towards them.

They're not sure what happened. Honestly, they might take it as rejection at first and double down until they notice you're TERRIFIED. They pause and regroup, planning their next course of action.

They're not as aggressive, just confused and hurt. Attempts to be considerate come off very stiff, but they're trying. They can tell you're not faking it. The terror in your eyes is undeniable.

They do a 180 and fight often when alone, blaming others, then each other for being too much on you. Their muffled yelling and thumping from fighting are loud enough that you hear, though they try making it up to you later.

Even if they're extremely upset about it, they put their feelings aside for you. There's no use talking to someone who won't listen.

Their attitudes get a lot more cautious but desperate. They've dealt with Hantengu's jumpiness and constant crying before, but being the cause in your case makes this more complicated..

They attempt to give you your space, and insist you stay home. Don't like the home you have? They'll find you a new one, a better one, and promise not to get too close. Give them some time. After that, they get rid of any external factors that could be harmful to you.

Unsurprisingly, they can't help themselves and will try to approach and speak to you, even if behind a wall or at a distance. Probably set up a wall divider just so you don't feel as scared to speak to them.

They're desperate and want what they once had with you.. please don't shut them out. this wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Emotional reassurance isn't their strong suit (ironically). They never comfort anybody, not even Hantengu. Combat is their expertise! In their mind, fixing the problem outside will fix the problem inside ..At least, fingers crossed that they do.

It's because of those villains out there that you're so scared in the first place. What kind of disgusting shameless bastards assume they get the privilege to think of you, much less be near you?! The second they know what these "men's" faces look like, their insides will decorate the ground and-!

Ahem—

Let's just say they took a page from Akaza's book and treat men a little meaner than women. As in, making sure at least one bone of theirs is broken if they so much as breathe in your direction.

During the attempt at rehabilitation, they fall into roles according to how they handle you.

Sekido is your bodyguard that makes sure the others behave and you're taking care of yourself. His once long fuse shortened since he began blaming the others for your paranoia. He can't help but be protective. As much as he hates it, he won't focus on anything if he knows you're unwell. He doesn't say much aside from grunts and scoffs in hopes of not scaring you further.

Karaku tries to lighten the mood and fills the silence with stories about what he's seen throughout his life, excluding the violent and aggressive details. Maybe even random stories he's heard, just to try and get your mind off of whatever is troubling you. He doesn't speak directly to you but around you so that you'll probably overhear.

Urogi is the material comfort, bringing you gifts that the others check before they get left outside your room. The gifts aren't as ripped or scratched as they would usually be, but that's because he's trying extra hard to give you something that'll hopefully make you feel better! With his talons and excitement, Urogi doesn't see you as much anymore unless it's through the window when you're asleep.

Aizetsu is the one who frequently speaks to you. He loves gathering information about you and hearing you speak in general. It's a pity you speak less, and when you do, there's a slight tremble.. it's cute, but you sound so miserable.. His airy, soft voice and gentle attitude grow sweeter when announcing himself, "How are you feeling? it kills me to see you like this.. please, tell me what to do to make everything better.”

The eyes you feel get worse since they're overprotective of you. At least they're not as secretive about it! They're insistent and happy that you avoid other people all together, though it'd be much better if they were an exception!

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