#no because I just watched every episode in one night and I love this damn show | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saintobio · 8 months ago

Text

sincerely yours. (12)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

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

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

tags/warnings. depression, mentions of cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships, illnesses

notes. 11k wc. finally. i wrote this with only one eye open so please don't mind the inconsistencies, i'm trying my best to tie any loose ends before we reach the ending. if the writing feels rushed, it’s bcos i’m just ready to wrap up this series 😭

series masterlist -> episode thirteen

You thought everything that had happened last night was just a dream.

Because you had gotten used to the constant disappointments and vicissitudes of your life, sharing such domestic bliss with the person you loved had started to feel far-fetched for you. It had become an unachievable fantasy, a colorful delusion created by your mind to conceal the actual darkness of pain that surrounded it.

But as you opened your eyes that morning, the familiar warmth of a sleeping Satoru’s embrace was the reality you never saw coming. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, it all felt surreal—like a fragile dream teetering on the edge of shattering. You wondered if it would be okay to stay here for now. To forget about the rest of the damn world and remain in his arms, staring at his beautiful saintly face, listening to his slow and steady heartbeat.

When Satoru stirred from his sleep, you knew your daydream was over. But he was pulling you dangerously close with arms wrapped around your frame and his lips pressed against your forehead. He was only half-awake, it seemed. His long white lashes reminded you of Sachiro’s as you watched him mumble incoherent words from his sleep, something along the lines of, ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Akemi’.

That was your cue to pull yourself away from him. With guilt now coursing through your body, you sat up from bed and covered your naked body with the duvet. Akemi. You had completely abandoned the thought of Akemi last night, and now you were here in bed with ‘supposedly’ her man. As much as your heart was in bliss from last night’s events, the dark and cold reality was that you slept with a man who wasn’t yours. It was a principle you told yourself you would never cross, but everything concerning Satoru Gojou seemed to be bringing you to that.

“Satoru, hey.” Your voice almost came out as a plea as you shook his arm, your guilt eating at you with every minute that passed. “Wake up.”

His eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to open his eyes, blinded by the sunlight that gleamed through the window as he stretched his arms and looked at you. “Y/N?” he softly whispered, a hand tenderly placed on your back as he scooted closer. “What’s wrong?”

Slight disbelief blanketed your gaze. “You think this isn’t wrong?”

Satoru let out a sigh of exasperation, pulling his head back, and covering his eyes with a hand as if last night’s events played through his mind scene to scene. He was obviously caught in a mindwreck thinking about the girl he had just cheated on. “It shouldn’t be,” he mumbled, “But it feels like it.”

“So you do regret it,” you laughed at your own words, internally in pain.

“I didn’t say that.” He finally pulled himself back up, sitting as he pulled you towards him. “Y/N, if we really thought last night was wrong, we would have stopped after the first time.” He shook his head at the irony. “Look, it’s on me, alright? I put you in this situation.”

“And I allowed it,” you argued, “I allowed it, Satoru. It makes me feel dirty. I feel like, like I’m wrecking someone else’s home. It’s not me.”

Satoru held his breath, a look of hesitation dawning on his face as he realized that this wasn’t just a dream of his. It was pure and raw reality that he had made a mistake that he could never undo. While thinking it through, he rubbed his eyes and sat up, leaning against the headboard as he assessed the situation. Then, he looked at you, his expression softening as he spoke, “No, not your fault. It’s just complicated,” he insisted, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who owes ‘Kemi an apology.”

Each time you heard her nickname from him was a punch to your gut. And each silent cuss that left his lips was an arrow to your heart. So you put it on yourself to accept his reaction. “It’s okay. You can be honest and say last night was a mistake.”

“No, no, no. I didn’t say that,” he replied quickly, reaching out to take your hand.

But you already stood up from the bed, clutching the duvet around your body like a shield against the encroaching chill. Your throat felt tight, and tears threatened to spill, but you fought to keep them at bay. Satoru’s gaze followed you with an expression of helplessness, as if he was struggling to bridge the gap between his rights and wrongs.

As you turned to face him, a knot of frustration and heartache tangled within you. “So, what now?” you asked, trying your hardest to keep your composure. “How are we gonna fix this, Satoru? How?”

Before he could answer, the door to the cabin suddenly burst open, and Akemi stood in the doorway with her eyes wide with shock and fury. The confrontation followed as soon as she caught you in a compromising position with Satoru, and the words she uttered next were ones you least expected from her.

“You’re a hypocrite! You’ve become the person you despised the most when you were married.”

“You’re no better than Sera! And that’s why you’re miserable, and you’ll forever be miserable! If this is your way of getting back at me..”

“Then jokes on you, because Satoru will never be faithful to you. He’ll keep cheating on you, just like he did now with me! You two belong in that cycle!”

You felt like an outsider in your own heartbreak, the confrontation intensifying as you tried to process the bitter truth in silence. All you could do was stand there and cry. Even Satoru’s attempts to placate Akemi were futile as her anger only seemed to grow. The more her eyes danced back and forth between you and her lover, the more she wanted to destroy everything in her path.

Satoru’s face was indiscernible from where you stood. “Akemi, please, just listen—”

Akemi, however, was already turning on her heel and storming back into her cabin while eliciting loud, muffled sobs. Your chest tightened with sorrow and shame. Complete, utter shame of doing this to another woman. How could you even correct a situation like this? How could you pick yourself back up after you just trampled on another woman’s feelings because of your actions?

Satoru, like you, hesitated on his next move, his eyes meeting yours with a look of anguish. “I need to talk to her, Y/N. I’ll be back.”

Without waiting for your response, he already bolted after her, leaving you alone in a quiet, pathetic state. The door slammed behind him, the sound reverberating through the cabin like thunder in a heavy storm.

You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to face everyone, didn’t have the guts to even talk to Shoko and Suguru who now both have to deal with such scandals. You were too ashamed of yourself, as if your femininity had been stripped off its rights after you slept with the man you swore you would never get back with.

“I didn’t mean it,” you could only silently whisper your laments, pacing around your cabin while swallowing the weakness that tried to escape. “I hate this.”

The minutes dragged on, and each second stretched into an eternity as you waited for Satoru’s return. For now, you sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, wondering what excuse he was telling Akemi, and what actions he would do to try and calm her down. Did he kiss her, perhaps? Did he cup her face and tell her that you were nothing but a mistake? What was taking him so long? Or were they doing things to try and erase the same deeds you two did last night?

The cacophony of voices and commotion from outside the cabin grew louder, and your curiosity led you to open your door, meeting the eyes of one of the hotel staff who sent you a look full of judgment.

“Where’s…” you hesitated if she was the right person to ask, “Where’s Satoru? Would you know?”

“Oh, ma’am. He already left the hotel half an hour ago… with Miss Akemi.”

Her answer hit you hard like a truck on a highway. And your heart dropped as you realized who became The Fool in these deck of cards. Satoru had not only run off after Akemi, but had also left you behind without a word.

The room felt colder now, the once-intimate sanctuary you shared with your ex-husband now a prison of your own grief. Even the familiar warmth of the bed seemed like a distant memory as you approached it, your body trembling as you thought of how you were treated like a dirty rag, thrown away after being used over and over again.

With a soft, choked sob, you collapsed onto the bed, the duvet still a tangled mess from earlier. And your emotions, so tightly restrained, finally broke free. You pulled the blanket around you as if it could shield you from the crushing pain. The betrayal, the sense of being discarded for another—it all converged into a torrent of anguish. All you could do was cling to the duvet as if it were the only anchor in a stormy sea.

——

Returning home didn’t make the situation any better.

Although you tried to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be waiting on Satoru to contact you, you still found yourself checking your phone multiple times a day. Each second that passed without hearing from him was another stab to your heart. But it shouldn’t feel like that. It shouldn’t, not when Satoru clearly made his choice of choosing yet another woman over you.

Of course, you knew what you did was wrong. In everyone’s eyes, sleeping with someone else’s man was unforgivable. There was no excuse, no way to justify your actions. Even if some people might side with you, saying you owed no one loyalty, it didn’t change how you felt about the whole situation. And that was because you remembered all too well the pain of being cheated on, and letting another woman endure the same heartbreak and betrayal was a weight on your conscience that you couldn’t ignore.

Sighing, you turned to the left side of the bed and saw Sachiro sleeping peacefully, clutching his favorite starfish plushie in his tiny arms. The thought of losing your son was unbearable, especially when he was your only source of calm amid the chaos that surrounded you. Caring for him was your solace, and his innocent presence served as a band-aid for your wounded heart. The most heart-wrenching part of this was knowing you couldn’t even repay him for the stability he brought you. Sachiro deserved a complete family to enrich his life, yet you—as his own biological mother—were unable to give him that.

“Sleep tight, Sachi.” You lightly stroked his white hair before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

The past few weeks had been a blur of emotions, work, and parenting—with each day blending into the next like a tornado of dull colors. You still hadn’t heard from Satoru, but the days of waiting and checking your phone for any notification from him did gradually stop. The only thing that didn’t stop replaying in your head like a broken record was the cabin incident, the very night that drew all these overthinking in your mind and in your heart.

Returning to work did provide some distraction, but it didn’t take away the sting. It also didn’t help that your staff noticed the change in your demeanor, and how distracted you often were during your meetings and warehouse visits. Even Nobara was worried about how absentminded you had become, but you brushed off all their concerns with a forced smile. After all, staying at home would do you worse than being at work.

Now, you were back in your office, and the soft knock on the door cut you off from your trance. It was Yuki peeking through the small opening on your door, her usual professional demeanor softened by a concerned expression. “Hey, Y/N. Do you have a minute?” she asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

You nodded, trying to muster a smile. “Sure, Yuki. What’s up?”

“I wanted to check in on you,” she began, taking a seat opposite your desk, “If you need to extend your vacation, please, by all means, go ahead. It’s off-season, anyway. I’ll take care of everything here while you’re focusing on yourself.”

That wasn’t really a good idea. And you shouldn’t be slacking off work when this very fashion house you establish used to be your passion, not your job. Yet here you were, losing all the inspiration to even run a business. “I don’t know if I have the energy for anything else right now.”

“Well, if you’re too worried about leaving work,” Yuki continued, her tone shifting to a more business-like note, “the progress we’ve made with Hearte is looking really promising. The new collection is getting great feedback, and our upcoming showcase is shaping up well. We’re on track for a strong quarter.”

“All because of you, Yuki.” A spark of gratitude appeared on your face. “Thanks for the update. It’s good to know things are moving in the right direction.”

She then stood up and gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m here if you need anything, Y/N. But seriously, take some time for yourself. You deserve it.”

On that same evening, you came home to your father’s mansion, and the first thing that greeted you when you entered the foyer was Gen sitting by the living room. And needless to say, her expression was a mix of concern and frustration as if she had been waiting for you to return. You weren’t really in the mood to have some back-and-forths with her, but you also didn’t like how she dropped her phone on the table and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at you like she was a mother who could scold you like a child.

“I’m not even gonna say anything at this point, but did you really do it with him?” Gen’s voice was low, but the disappointment was palpable. You could feel it from a few meters away.

“What are you talking about?” you bit back, your already-terrible mood swings shifting into an unhealthy direction.

Gen responded by pointing at her phone, gesturing for you to take a look at whatever’s on it. Reluctantly, you grabbed the device, and as you were scrolling through the screen, you stumbled upon a blind item circulating on social media. The words were vague but pointed, hinting at a scandalous encounter between two ex-spouses, both of whom were well-known figures. Great. Your heart stopped as you realized that the article was very much about you and Gojou.

The online comments were brutal, not like you weren’t used to anonymous harassment anyway, but these ones were full of speculating and judging without knowing the full story. Everyone also seemed to be siding with “Ms. A” instead of you as though the person behind the article was clearly trying to paint you as the villain. It was written for the purpose of destroying your reputation rather than any regular exposé, and whoever wrote it was definitely someone who disliked you.

Your shoulders slumped as you scrolled through hate comment after hate comment, a seemingly endless vitriol for someone they didn’t even know, and avoided your sister’s gaze knowing full well that seeing her expression would only make you feel worse.

“Is it true?” your sister asked like there was even an ounce of chance that it was simply a rumor. Unfortunately, it was anything but.

Sliding her phone back on the coffee table, you drew in a deep breath. “I can’t undo it, Gen. It happened.”

“So, you did sleep with him? Am I hearing this right?” Gen sighed, rubbing her temples. “Do you have any idea what this could do to you? To Sachiro? People are ruthless, and now this blind item is all over the place and they’re targeting you like a punching bag!”

Your mouth felt heavy, as if it was weighed down by an invisible burden, making it difficult to form words or speak. And before you could think of a response, Ian became your temporary savior as he walked in with a calm but serious mien. “I’ve seen the post,” he said, holding up his phone. “It’s clearly defamatory, and we can take legal action. I’ll handle it.”

Even though Ian was a man of remarkable phlegm, you remained abashed, knowing that everyone’s feasting at the juicy rumor that you slept with your ex-husband. Yet, the only thing you could do was to put on a front. To save face. To act like someone you’re not. “Thank you, Ian. I’d appreciate that.”

Anticipating another lecture from Gen about Satoru, you began retreating to your room with your footsteps bouncing desperately on the grand staircase. This conversation was done. You just weren’t there to hear it anymore. However, as you climbed the stairs with a vacant mind, you could still hear your sister calling out to you.

“Y/N!” she called, her voice now tinged with concern. “I’m not going to give you a hard time. We can sort this issue out. Maturely.”

“I’m good.” Sorry, Gen. It was the anxious-avoidant side of you speaking. You didn’t want to discuss such a sensitive situation to anyone, even with your sister, because you weren’t ready to face all the negativity it would put you through. You were already dealing with enough, and going through yet another emotional turmoil might actually put you to your deathbed at this point.

So, for now, isolating yourself from the world was the best choice.

And as soon as you entered your room, you saw Sachiro’s nanny tucking him into bed. All your worries and self-destructive thoughts vanished in an instant the moment you looked at your son. It was like the heavens gave you your personal angel, a cute little cherub who brought nothing but light and happiness to your life. He was your sunshine, your shooting star, your bundle of joy. Nothing in this world could erase the pessimist in you than little Sachiro.

“I got it from here.” You thanked the nanny and asked her to close the door before quickly joining your son in bed, wrapping him in a warm, comforting hug—more for your own comfort than his.

“Mama?” he asked, his voice unusually raspy, and his chest rising and falling heavily. “I mwiss you, mama!”

You pressed your lips onto his forehead. “I miss you too, my baby. How was daycare today?”

He seemed to struggle to speak too, but Sachiro still did his best to recount his day while he was trying to catch air in between his sentences. “Teacher ask Sachi to go home, mama. Sachi is tired.”

“Baby, are you okay? Are you sick?” Now, your motherly instincts kicked in immediately. You could tell something was wrong, so you reached for a thermometer from the bedside drawer to check his temperature, and listened to his breathing at the same time. “What happened to Sachi? Do you want Mommy to take you to the hospital?”

Sachiro shook his head and gave you a sleepy smile. “No, mama. Sachi is just sweepy.”

When the thermometer beeped, you were relieved to see that his temperature was normal. “Are you having trouble breathing, my sweetheart?” You looked into his droopy eyes and gently placed your hand on his chest.

Once again, Sachiro shook his head. Maybe you were just overthinking. He often ran around the house or played in the bathtub before bed, which could explain why he seemed out of breath. It wasn’t the first time it happened.

“Okay, Sachi. Go to sleep now. Close your eyes, baby.”

“Night night, mama.”

For now, you turned off the night lamp, and headed to the bathroom in silent and careful steps. It was quiet enough indeed, but in your head was an awful noise you couldn’t escape. And stepping into the shower only increased the warfare in your mind, as it immediately brought images of Satoru and Akemi back in the cabin, the harsh comments from the article, and the lack of contact from your ex-husband which all overwhelmed you at once. By now, he would have already seen that article. Nanami or Miwa might have already alerted him about it. But the fact that he said nothing, the fact that he let the public scrutinize you, destroy you with such vile, hurtful words behind their screens brought you a kind of pain that you wouldn’t wish upon anyone else.

Because if it was Akemi in that position, he would have defended her in a heartbeat.

So in your silence, under the cascading water of the shower, you let the tears flow—its warmth distinguishable compared to the cold droplets falling on you. If only you had successfully drowned yourself that night at the lake. If only Satoru didn’t pull you back in, none of this would have happened.

That moment was deeply poignant to you, and you saw him in a new light you thought you would never see again because of the darkness of your past. Yet, with the events that followed your special moment, memories eventually turned into spite. Your sweet exchange twisted into something bitter. Looking back at that time when he kissed you at the lake now made you feel nauseous and hollow inside, with bile forming on your throat and threatening to be retched.

The most gut-wrenching part about this was the fact that there wasn’t anyone left who could rescue you from this abyss of heartache anymore.

——

There had been a sense of detachment in your emotions in the following days that passed, almost as though they belonged to a stranger inhabiting your body. Toji, the only person who comforted you at times like these, was no longer by your side to fulfill the warmth you once desperately sought, and now you were alone to face this cruel, mind-numbing battle all by yourself. It was you against the world. You against the entire populace inhabiting this living hell. And with that many enemies against one, how could you win?

It was quite funny, actually, that your humor took a surprising turn when you thought of how Sera must have felt when it was revealed to the public that she was Satoru’s mistress. The irony didn’t even stop at your thoughts alone, it manifested itself outside Hearte’s headquarters, wearing a pink puffer jacket and a white prairie skirt.

“Sera?” you blurted out her name in wonder, nonplussed as you got out of the car to approach her.

“Hey, Y/N.” She offered a casual smile while carrying an air of sophistication around her. That wasn’t the only thing that changed about Sera. Her hair was also shorter than the last you saw her, her face now sporting a more natural makeup, and her outfit a more modest yet classy choice. It was no longer the Sera who tried hard to fit in amongst the upper echelon of society, but a Sera who seemed to be satisfied at her current standing in life.

What an awkward encounter. Was her presence your hypocritical reminder for sleeping with Satoru behind Akemi’s back?

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

And she answered with, “I read about what happened. You know, the thing on the internet.” She took a moment to pause, probably trying to choose the right words to say to her previous adversary. Because in a way, you two weren’t exactly friends. And you were no longer rivals either. Satoru was the only common denominator here, and Sera proved her exact sentiments about him by saying, “I just wanted to let you know that I understand your side. It’s a tough situation.”

You looked at her, searching for any hint of insincerity, but found none. “You were once on my spot,” you pointed out and gauged whether or not she would take the bait. For all you know, she could be putting on an act. “I’m assuming you’re here to rub it in my face how much of a hypocrite I am.”

“No, that’s not it.” Sera was vehemently denying any malice on her intentions, and was instead trying to show you the sympathy of a woman who was once caught in the same predicament. “Look, I know it’s weird that I’m here out of all people. But the truth is, I just had to let you know that someone’s on your side. I’ve met the girl, okay? That… whoever she is. I don’t remember her name, and I hate having to pit two women against each other, but I’m telling you it’s about time you cut Satoru off your life. Completely. She doesn’t look like someone who’d easily let go. You’re just gonna suffer, Y/N.”

Perhaps three years was too far back in your life and that tables could turn in a direction that you didn’t expect, as you could recall fragments of memories from when your only dilemma was dealing with Satoru and Sera in your marriage. She used to be besotted with your ex-husband back then. But now, it wasn’t until you heard the way she spoke about him that you realized she must be harboring a grudge deeper than you had imagined. After all, he did ruin her life in ways you couldn’t imagine. And her advice, though unsolicited, made sense. Because you could understand where she was going with it. You could see the true intentions clearly conveyed by her face.

The only problem here was that you didn’t have it in your heart to agree with her. You were too much of an empathic person to be taking sides, even if the supposed villain in this painting was the ex-husband who, time and time again, hurt you. Your heart stubbornly cared for Satoru deep down, and your wifely instinct of defending him no matter how poorly he acted had always been there. No one could hate Satoru more than you did, that was true, but you also weren’t very accepting of hearing others describe him as this ruthless, cheating bastard.

That was the reason why talking to Gen had eventually exhausted you. Because no one knew the real Satoru Gojou behind his facade of an irresponsible and reckless husband.

“Now that you’re here…” The idea to redirect the conversation to another topic struck you, unwilling to engage in a conversation that pushed Satoru in a bad light. “Would you be interested in being a model for our upcoming campaign? We’re launching a new collection, and I think you’d be perfect.”

Sera’s eyes were an amalgam of confusion and surprise. “Uh, I mean… I’d love to, but why so sudden?”

“You have the face for it.” You shrugged, but still sent a smile her way. “Are you working right now? If not, this could open doors for you to be discovered by modeling agencies. I’m closely tied with them since I work in the fashion industry, so I can do a few calls if you want.”

“Hold on, I’m—” Sera touched her head, laughing as if she were dreaming this conversation. “Y/N, you’re doing too much here. I mean, I’d obviously love that, but wouldn’t it be awkward? People know me as your ex-husband’s mistress, and if they recognize me in Hearte ads, I’m sure as hell those fuck ass netizens won’t stop talking about it.”

She had a point, a very good point, but then again, your suggestion was only brought up because you had to change the topic. “Well, it’s just an offer to consider in the future.”

“And I appreciate you always extending a hand to help me even if I did you wrong in the past,” she said, feelings of shame lacing her voice. “I haven’t forgotten about what you did for my brother, that’s why I’m here. I’m not your enemy anymore, Y/N.”

Just then, the roaring engine of a classic red Ferrari pulled up to the curb, interrupting the unexpected conversation you were having with your ex-husband’s former mistress. The window rolled down to reveal a pink-haired man whom you recognized as Ryomen Sukuna, an up and coming tech mogul, that Toji had mentioned about many times before. His eyes were only on one woman alone, and it wasn’t you. “Ready to go, babe?”

Honestly, good for Sera. No wonder her aura had become different. They seemed to be in a stable committed relationship, something that you could only ever dream about. If karma was truly real, this was the perfect example for it.

In the back seat, you spotted a younger boy who looked exactly like Sukuna and, surprisingly, Megumi, the son of your ex-fiancé. Really? How many more people were you going to ‘coincidentally’ run into today?

“Hello, miss!” the other boy called out cheerfully, while Megumi offered a polite nod. You replied with a wave, feeling a small sense of normalcy in their innocent presence.

“I gotta get going, Y/N,” excused Sera, gesturing a civil goodbye.

But as she moved to get into the car, your phone buzzed in your pocket. A single glance at the screen made your heart drop. It was a call from the hospital.

“Hello?” you answered almost immediately, pressing the phone on your ears with a tight push.

“Ms. Y/N, this is the hospital. Your son, Sachiro Gojou, is in the ICU. We need you to come as soon as possible.”

Your stomach contracted into a tight ball as you stood rigid with terror. Then and there, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. “Wh-What do you mean he’s in the hospital?!” you managed to shout, swept by horripilation from the sudden news. “What happened to my son?! What’s—!”

Sera’s concerned gaze met yours as you desperately yelled into the phone, hyperventilating. Your trembling hand was threatening to drop the phone. “Y/N, is everything okay?”

“My son… I… he…,” you stammered, your voice shaky with fear and urgency. Your muscles locked in a momentary paralysis, eyes wide with astonishment, and surprise rendering you immobile. The thought of Sachiro in a critical state was about to make you faint, with the last bits of images you saw that afternoon were of Sera and her boyfriend rushing to catch you from completely falling to the ground.

——

Megumi didn’t know how to deliver the bad news.

He came home after Yuuji’s brother rushed you to the hospital, shocked by everything that happened in a span of a single day. His mind was aching from all the thinking he was doing; praying that little Sachiro will be fine, hoping that you would stay strong throughout, and lastly, wondering how he would break it to his dad that something terrible had happened.

His father wasn’t exactly the greatest man to tread this Earth, especially not after the drunken words he had ‘mistakenly’ uttered to you that night in Miami that resulted in your separation. Yes, Megumi knew every word and detail. His father told him everything just as a sober man would. Did you really think that the Toji Zen’in you knew would sputter that utter nonsense to you? That you had an empty soul. That he couldn’t be with someone like you. That you would forever be a placeholder to Megumi’s mother. Bullshit. None of those were true. His father told him that the reason he had to say those words, as piercing and trenchant as they may be, was because it was the only way he could free you from being caged in a relationship your heart didn’t genuinely want.

It was Toji’s last resort to hurt you with his words, hoping that you would wake up from your false fantasy and finally have a reason to leave a relationship with a man that wasn’t Satoru Gojou. If Megumi’s father wasn’t at the top of the list of Forbes’ richest men in Japan, he would have felt a great deal of inferiority complex over a younger man like Gojou. Not because of his looks and his riches, but because he had you. No matter what Satoru did, no matter how many times he hurt you, he was and would always be that man you wanted to be with.

Sighing, Megumi’s first task upon coming home was to check on his father’s room, only to find the dark room void of its owner. When he made his way down the grand staircase, he met an ill-spirited Naoya who was ranting to Mai about Sera flaunting Sukuna in front of his face. Megumi’s sigh was then followed by another. The drama in this house was relentless. He felt like he was exhaling endlessly, like a malfunctioning appliance.

“Where’s dad?” asked Megumi, directing her question to a more rational Maki.

The tall, green-haired girl gave him a knowing shrug. “You already know,” she said, “Drowning himself in alcohol down at the bar.”

As always.

Megumi jogged around the estate to eventually find his father at one of the wet bars near his home office. He was there, seated on a stool, his head drooping low with a glass of premium scotch in hand. How many glasses he’d had, Megumi could only hope the numbers weren't that high. But upon approaching his father, his presence was barely acknowledged as he sat on the stool next to him, suggesting that the grown man might be more inebriated than his son had expected.

“Dad,” spoke the Zen’in heir, “Dad, you good?”

Toji lifted his head up, three sheets to the wind, as a smile crept up on his scarred lips. “Son.”

“Let me take that.” Megumi grabbed a hold of the glass of scotch, sliding the strong liquor away from his father. “There’s something I ought to tell you.”

Toji stayed nonchalant, sitting upright and tapping his fingers on the counter. “What’s it about this time?” he asked. “I’ve told you, I can’t stop the elders from arranging your marriage unless you’re honest with me about someone you like. I know you have someone in mind, but you’re not saying who. Are you just shy?”

Megumi gave his father a look of exasperation. He’s rambling, he thought, frustrated with his father’s inebriated chattering. “It’s not about that. It’s about Y/N-san.”

The mention of your name was the only thing that made Toji's demeanor shift to one of genuine concern. “What happened?”

“Sachi’s in a critical condition,” the younger Zen’in went straight to the point, “Y/N-san went manic over it and fainted before we could get her to the hospital.”

Toji was quick to grab his coat and car keys, as if all the alcohol in his system had immediately evaporated. But before he could leave, Megumi caught his father’s arm and pulled him back.

“What?” said Toji, concern and urgency blanketing his gaze. “I need to be with her.”

“Do you really need to?” Megumi countered. “Dad, I know it’s not right for me to stop you in this crucial situation, but are you gonna do this every time she’s in trouble? Do you plan to do this forever? Do you plan to keep drowning yourself in alcohol thinking about her? We care for her like family, that’s true, but you and her aren’t a thing anymore. Your responsibilities in taking care of her should stop, too. You, yourself, said it’d be best if she stopped being reliant on you. Now, do yourself a favor and stop trying to be this pathetic superhero.”

The concern etching on Tojis’s face softened into a sense of realization, a sense of candidness that only someone as straightforward as his own son could evoke. Megumi had to, not because he didn’t care for you anymore, but because he had to ensure he wouldn’t lose his father over a relationship that had already ended. Toji was the only real family Megumi had left.

“Stay, dad,” he pleaded, “Please.”

Toji took a deep breath and released it in the same second. “Okay,” he softly said, ruffling his son’s hair. “I won’t leave.”

——

Why is it that you keep attracting things, places, and people that you disliked the most?

You hated hospitals, and you had spoken about it enough to make it clear how much you dreaded going to a place where your worst memories had taken root. Yet, the sterile environment seemed to beckon you, dragging you back with a new nightmare each time. It was beyond your worst fears that you would find yourself racing through the halls mere minutes after regaining consciousness, desperately trying to reach where your son was.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

Frantically, you scanned the corridors, searching for the ICU and hoping that what you had just heard was nothing more than a cruel illusion, that this was all just a nightmare. You weren’t a deeply devout person, but you did send prayers to every saint you could think of, hoping that Sachiro’s current state wasn’t in the median between life and death.

Because if you lost your son, then there was no point in living anymore. This life wouldn’t be worth enduring.

“Y/N!”

You weren’t the first one to arrive outside the pediatric ICU, with Gen and your father already being there moments before you came. You were struggling to breathe by the time you reached them, feeling your heart race with a thunderous beat. “Gen… Dad, what h-happened to him?” You couldn’t stop the weakness in your voice. “Tell me he’s fine, please. Please. My baby. If anything h-happens to him, I’m g-gonna die, Gen! I c-can’t h-have that!”

Gen quickly enveloped you in a tight embrace, trying to offer any form of comfort she could. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Dad and I are just as shocked.” She held you closer, her voice trembling as she, too, was just as anxious as you. “Sachi refused to eat and complained about having a hard time breathing. He was so pale and his lips were blue. We knew we had to rush him to the hospital immediately.”

“Oh my God.” Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to stifle the uncontrollable cries that were escaping. The news of Sachiro developing cyanosis shattered your heart, and the crushing reality that you weren’t there to take care of him tore you apart. “My baby, no. No, no. H-He—”

“Y/N!”

Out of breath and also visibly shaken was the father of your son, Satoru, who came running to your side the moment his eyes landed on you. Behind him was his mother, clutching a rosary in her hand as both of them were seemingly shell-shocked in the same magnitude as you and your family were. Everyone cared for Sachiro’s well-being, everyone prayed for his safety, and the thought of losing an angel like your son was a soul-crushing thought that sent you slipping into a chasm of suffering.

“Wh-What happened to Sachi?” Satoru asked in desperation, his question raised to everyone in the vicinity—you, your family, the nurses. But no one could give him a decent answer. “Please, tell me my son’s alright. Tell me.”

You watched him walk in circles, raking his fingers through his hair as if he was seeking anything to hold onto. And you, feeling that magnet that pulled you closer to him, broke away from Gen’s embrace to look at your son’s father. “Satoru…”

“Y/N,” his voice cracked as he met your gaze, “Our son.” He stopped, ready to wrap you in a hug—a moment of solace you both desperately needed in this critical time. But just as he pulled you close in a fragile attempt to find comfort together, the door to the ICU swung open, abruptly ending the brief respite.

All of you immediately rushed over to the doctor, the sterile white walls and the distant hum of hospital machinery did nothing to calm the turmoil inside you.

“Doctor, how’s he?”

“How’s my grandson, doc?”

“Doc, my son, is he okay?”

“Is he stable, doc?”

“Doctor, how’s my son, please?” you asked, your body growing tense to the point of shaking.

The doctor took a deep breath, his expression serious amidst the fusillade of questions thrown at him. “We’re currently running a series of tests on the patient. We suspect Sachiro may have congenital heart disease, specifically a ventricular septal defect with associated pulmonary hypertension.”

No, it can’t be. It’s not possible! The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You struggled to process the information, your vision blurring with tears and your heart drumming a rapid staccato inside. You didn’t need to look at everyone to know that they all, for a moment, looked at you. “Heart disease? But… how? I didn’t think—”

“Can you explain more, doc? Please.” Gojou was desperate, his bright blue eyes now dull and severely clouded with a brewing storm. It was as if he was keeping himself from crying.

The doctor continued gently, “VSD is a condition where there’s a hole in the heart’s ventricular septum. It can lead to pulmonary hypertension, which means the blood pressure in the lungs is elevated. It’s a serious condition, but we’re doing everything we can to assess the extent and provide the best treatment.”

“N-No, oh God. My baby.” You felt your knees go weak, and you sank down against the wall, with more tears cascading down your cheeks like waterfall. The weight of the diagnosis was crushing, but the hardest part was realizing that this was something you had unknowingly passed on to Sachiro. The heart disease was inherited from you and had now manifested in your beloved son.

It’s my fault. It’s my fault!

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “We’ll keep you updated as soon as we have more information. Please, try to stay calm, Y/N. It’s not best for your heart to panic right now. Sachiro is in good hands.”

You were unable to speak through the sobs that wracked your body. The hospital corridor felt endless, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt and helplessness that consumed you. You could feel all eyes on you, judging, harboring hatred, carrying deep-rooted resentment. You were torn apart by the knowledge that the very thing you had feared most was now a reality for your son.

“It’s… It’s my fault,” you sobbed, covering your face with your quivering hands, “This is all my fault. I gave it to Sachiro, I… I’m a terrible mother!”

Gen knelt beside you, her hands gripping your shoulders with a firm yet gentle touch. “Y/N, stop it. This is not your fault. You didn’t choose this for Sachiro.”

Your father, who had been pacing anxiously nearby, joined in. “Your sister’s right. You’re blaming yourself for something beyond your control. We’re all here for you. We’ll figure this out.”

But amidst your familial exchange, Satoru stood nearby, frozen and listless. His silence only added to the overwhelming distress. Was he also blaming you for what Sachiro was going through right now? Was he also angry at you for putting his son into this critical situation?

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the commotion—voice that was equally harsh and spiteful. It was Satoru’s mother, boring her fiery eyes into your skull as she opened her mouth. “That’s right! You’re self-aware, aren’t you?” she spat and stood rigidly, arms crossed defensively over her chest. “This is all your fault. You’re such an irresponsible mother! You can’t even take care of my grandson properly, and now you’ve passed your disease onto him!”

You looked up in shock, seeing Satoru’s mother standing there with a disdainful expression. The sting of her words felt like a knife twisting in your heart, because they were true. They were painful, yes, but they were true. And all you could do was lower yourself until you were sitting on your haunches, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“Excuse me?!” Gen stood up, her eyes blazing with anger that came from the deepest pits of hell. “You’re unbelievable, Auntie. How dare you speak to my sister like that! You have no right to blame her for this. I hope to God it was you in the ICU right now instead of Sachiro!”

“You…!”

Satoru’s mother raised a hand to slap Gen, but your father stepped forward, his face a mix of disbelief and indignation. “This is despicable. How can you stand here and say such things to someone who’s already suffering? Weren’t you friends with my wife once?”

Satoru, who had been standing still, suddenly moved with a menacing calm. His face was hard as stone, and his eyes narrowed in anger. What was scarier was him approaching his mother with a threatening stance. “Are you really this pathetic, mother?” Satoru questioned with a cold, cutting tone. “Do you get off on making Y/N suffer? Do you think you’ve gotten away with slapping her behind my back? You don’t get to blame Y/N for anything. Any fucking thing!”

His mother’s eyes widened in shock, but she tried to defend herself at the ruthless stance her son was carrying. All of you were stunned at the realization of how Satoru resembled his cruel father at that moment. “B-But Satoru, my son—”

“Shut up!” Satoru cut her off, his voice harsh and unforgiving, before he threw his cold knuckles against the hard surface of the concrete wall. “I don’t want to see your face ever again! Don’t consider yourself my mother any longer, you witch. You’ve lost that privilege.”

This took a wild turn, and hearing the brutality of Satoru’s words was like a thunderclap in the tense atmosphere. His mother’s face turned pale, her mouth opening and closing in shock as she struggled to respond.

“Get out of here,” Satoru commanded, his voice uncaring towards her. “Leave, and don’t ever come back. You’re nobody to me now.”

With that, Satoru’s mother turned and fled, stumbling down the corridor as if she was the victim in this situation. However, the tension in the air began to dissipate as soon as she left, leaving you, Satoru, Gen, and your father in a heavy silence. Only your sniffles could be heard.

Even Gen, who was often hostile around your ex-husband, had remained quiet and composed after she watched him take such drastic measures to keep his mother away.

Everyone was silent. Pure, unbothered silence until Satoru’s phone began to buzz loudly, cutting through the stillness of the hallway. For a moment, he closed his eyes, then he fished his phone out of his pocket where you caught a glimpse of the caller ID.

Akemi.

——

The ICU only allowed short visits and one person at a time, so there was no need for everyone to stay the night. You were the parent, you were the one responsible for your son’s situation, so you insisted it was best for your dad and Gen to go home and get some rest. You didn’t mind watching over your son for the whole night, because coming home without him was the last thing you would do right now.

My precious angel.

Sachiro lay in the hospital bed, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The doctors had managed to stabilize him for now, and the sight of his heart monitor showing a stable rhythm was a small comfort amidst the chaos.

Still, you sat by his bedside, mindful of your timed visit as your hands gently held his tiny ones, feeling the warmth of his small fingers. You glanced down at the medical report on your other hand, trying to make sense of the complex terms and figures.

The words blurred together as your tears fell silently onto the paper. “I’m sorry, baby.” He didn’t deserve this. He’s just a baby. “Mommy’s very sorry.”

You tried to stay strong, putting on a brave face for your son, but inside, you were falling apart. It was impossible not to blame yourself over this, wishing you could do more than just be present around him. This was the comeuppance of your own actions after you focused on your own emotions for the past few weeks to the point of neglecting your son’s wellbeing. If you had been more present in his life, if you had been more observant, you would have easily noticed the signs. Now, you allowed Satoru to find a flaw in your duty as a mother, and he could cite this very event as evidence to get full custody of him. That is, if he were to ever consider taking your son away from you.

But in the first place, he should be the last person to do that, because where exactly was he now?

Your thoughts kept drifting back to the earlier scene, where he excused to answer Akemi’s call, and later that night told you he had to leave and “check something” urgently. He promised he’d be back before midnight, but where was he?

Resentment began to fester within you.

You had been very perceptive of Akemi’s feelings, apologetic in the way you supposedly betrayed her, but the fact that she was still scrambling for Satoru’s attention in the midst of your son’s hospitalization was something you could never forgive her for.

And as for Sachiro’s father, how could he prioritize another woman when his own son was in such a critical state? The confusion of his actions was overwhelming. It felt like a cruel deja vu that, at a time when you needed him the most, he was choosing to be elsewhere. You could accept it if it was a choice between you and another woman, but between his son and her? His behavior was unacceptable, disgusting even, and it only served to deepen your grudge against him.

You clenched your fists, trying to push away the surge of anger that threatened to consume you after seeing that the disparity in his actions felt like both a betrayal and a slap to the face. Your poor son. You stared at Sachiro’s peaceful face and stroked his cheek. How could Satoru be so indifferent to his own flesh and blood?

The room was silent except for the soft beeping of the heart monitor and your quiet sobs. The situation was almost too much to bear, and your resentment towards Gojou grew heavier by the second. Each minute felt like a lifetime, and the emptiness left by his absence was a constant reminder that yet again he chose another woman over his own family.

It’s okay. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. I won’t leave you, Sachi. For Sachiro’s sake, you needed to find the strength to carry on, to be the mother he needed in this moment of crisis and never again failing to be there for your only child.

At exactly 10:30 pm, the nurse came in and told you visiting hours were over. You complied.

At 11:00 pm, Ian paid you a quick visit and talked to the nurses, perhaps giving them reminders to look after you.

At 12:00 am, you were alone again. Seated at one of the benches outside the ICU—sleepless, starving, and nauseous.

At 2:00 am, you remained in your seat despite the sterile smell of antiseptic mingling with your own discomfort. The flickering fluorescent lights above did little to help you get some proper sleep. The cold air-conditioning alao made you shiver slightly, hugging your own body to try and give yourself some warmth.

At 4:00 am, you awakened from the noise of the movements beside you. Realizing you had fallen asleep, you looked up and saw Satoru taking a seat to your left. His coat was draped over his arm, and he offered it to you.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, but you could see the bags under his eyes suggesting the sleepless nights he’d had for the past few days. “You can use my coat.”

You took the coat, but as you caught a whiff of it, a familiar scent of Akemi’s perfume lingered. Rose Prick by Tom Ford. It was a scent you’d come to recognize after your years of being her best friend, and it made your stomach turn slightly. Without any hesitation, you handed the coat back to him. “No, thank you. I’m fine,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. Looking into his eyes was the last thing you would do.

And you knew Satoru was sighing, but didn’t press the issue. “The nurse mentioned you haven’t eaten today.” He pulled out a small bag of assorted fruits, placing it gently on the seat between you. You eyed the offerings, feeling a pang of hunger but also a strange aversion. “I bought some fruit. Is there anything you like?”

You took a deep breath and broke the silence with a hint of sarcasm. “You’re really good at this, huh?”

“At what?” was his immediate question, puzzled.

“Hitting two birds with one stone.”

“Y/N…”

“Stop trying to take care of me,” you interrupted, your tone sharper than intended. “ I don’t need it.”

“But—”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You can’t even be here for Sachi. You can’t even choose your son. He’s in a life and death situation and we’re still only receiving scraps of your attention.” It was the deep-seated grudge spilling out of you. “You’re so good at abandoning people, huh? Even though that’s what you hate the most. You’re so good at disappearing without even a text or call to check on me and our son. After that night at the cabin, you just…” you paused, realizing that you were opening too much of your heart to a man who didn’t deserve it. “Forget it. Just go home to Akemi. Live a happy life, build a family with her. Forget us. I don’t care. I’ll take care of Sachiro myself. I’ve done it for three years!”

“Y/N, I’m not trying to hurt you. I just…” Satoru fumbled for words, his somber blue eyes bearing the history of your shared heartbreak. It was as though the painful memories of your past were flooding his thoughts, seeking justification as to why he couldn’t pick you again this time. “I had to be there for her. She’s…”

You turned away before he could see your expression, because your heart was splintering at the thought of Satoru Gojou shattering it once more. As he always did. There seemed to be no end to this relentless heartbreak, as if any hope of a happy ever after with the man you loved would only return a pain that was a hundred times worse. Perhaps, this was destiny’s way of telling you that you and him weren’t meant to be. That any wishful thinking of being with Satoru again was only something that you could expect in another universe.

So, in your defense, you had to pull on a facade. A mask that you had to wear in the face of being the target of never-ending despair. “Satoru, I don’t want to talk about it,” you said firmly, concealing the raw ache in your voice with a smile. “And I don’t expect you to choose me every time. It’s okay. It’s happened before.”

“Can’t you see I’m hurting, too?” he asked, his voice breaking. Though you couldn’t see his face, the tremor in his voice revealed his struggle to hold back tears.

You couldn’t understand why he would be hurting with his decision. When faced with two crossroads, he always seemed to pick the path that led away from you. So instead of trying to comprehend his pain, you decided it was time to honor your own. For your sake. For Sachiro’s.

“Let’s just forget about that night,” you declared, wiping your eyes as you got up from your seat and prepared to walk away. “From this day forward, let’s pretend it never happened.”

——

Akemi’s apartment was dark when Satoru stepped inside.

And to be honest, the darkness was a relief. At least, she wouldn’t be able to see the lassitude etched on his face, not just from juggling his time between his son and her, but from the constant ache of hurting the person he loved.

Miscommunication is a couple’s greatest enemy, and the persistent disconnect between you two, coupled with the reluctance to clear things up, had worn Satoru down. He wanted to end this—the feeling of helplessness and the torment of seeing the woman he cared for caught in a labyrinth of despair.

The hospital visits to Sachiro alone had been a whirlwind of emotions and responsibilities, and this brief visit to Akemi felt like an unwelcome detour, but one he couldn’t avoid. Satoru knew his heart wanted to stay in the hospital with you, to wait for any updates on his son, to hold your hand and care for you, yet here he was, dragging his feet across the carpeted floors to approach Akemi.

“Hey.” She was sitting on the couch, looking frail but alert as if she had been desperately waiting on his arrival. She had recently started treatment for her stage 3 endometrial cancer, and Satoru could see the toll it was taking on her, physically and emotionally. He would be cruel to leave her hanging like this, to neglect her at her worst when she had been there by his side at his. Satoru had an unspoken accountability on her, because it wouldn’t be fair for him to just abandon her after she poured all her heart and soul into helping Gojou get back onto his own feet.

“Hey, ‘Kemi,” he said, his tone soft but distant. “Did you take your meds today?”

Akemi looked up at him, her eyes tired and heavy. “I did. I took them just like the doctor said. How’s Sachiro?”

Gojou’s expression tightened. “He’s holding steady at the moment.”

A heavy silence settled between them before Akemi broke the tension. “I’m glad he’s stable,” she said, quietly. “Are you okay?”

He nodded once, his mind already drifting back to the hospital. “Yeah. Listen, I need to head back soon. Nanami and Miwa will be alternating in looking after you from now on. They’ll make sure you’re okay while I’m dealing with Sachiro. I have to focus on my son.”

Akemi’s frail hand reached out to gently grip his arm, the other held her lower abdomen in pain. “Satoru, please don’t go just yet. Can’t you stay a little longer?”

Now’s not the time to feel guilty. It was either her or Sachiro. Her or his son. Gojou decided to pull his arm away gently, his gaze distant. “Sachiro needs me, Akemi. You know that.”

Akemi’s face fell, but she knew it would be ridiculous to argue over that. “No, I understand. I get that. I want you to focus on Sachi, too. I just wish—” Before she could finish, her voice faltered, and she looked up at him with a hesitant gaze. “Satoru, do you regret that I took you back even if you cheated on me?”

The question caught him off guard, and Satoru’s blue eyes narrowed as he processed her words. He had been so focused on his responsibilities and the immediate crisis that he hadn’t given much thought to their ‘relationship’. All he knew was when he showed up at her doorstep back at the cabin, he was only going to try and end things with her. He was only going to clarify the longstanding feelings you and him poured out to each other that night, which was why he ended up sleeping with his ex-wife. But because Akemi suffered at the time, because her pelvic pain worsened to the point of an emergency, he had to hold back and just take care of her in the weeks that passed. He was caged in this situation like a prisoner who was found guilty for the crimes he had committed.

Just be honest, Satoru. Disregard everything else and just be honest. Satoru believed it was about time he stood his ground no matter the consequences. “You can’t take me back if we’re not together, ‘Kemi,” he breathed out those words, reticent on hurting her with the truth. If she would lash out on him, throw a vase on his head, slam a book on his face—he wouldn’t mind. He was ready to accept all the violence he deserved from being an asshole. “You knew from the start that this, us, was only temporary. It was never supposed to be serious.”

Her expressions turned doleful. “Then, in that case, did you at least…” Tears welled up in her eyes as she she paused, “Did you at least love me?”

“I just… I never saw it that way, Akemi.” Satoru’s honesty would destroy her, but he didn’t want to keep on sending out false hopes. He had to be firm, and while he was grateful for everything she did for him, that doesn’t mean he owed her his life and loyalty. In the first place, he warned her that he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. And God, he was far from ready to even settle down, yet Akemi constantly hinted at wanting to tie the knot with him. Again and again did she mention the thought of a wedding and a child and her own family.

Satoru wanted all those things too, but with another person in mind. He was only set on having those things with one woman.

Akemi’s face paled upon hearing his answer and the fact that he didn’t even bother to explain himself. “I see. I guess I needed to hear that.”

Gojou looked at her with a mix of regret and sympathy. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you like this, I really do.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

It definitely wasn’t fine, but Satoru had to take her word for it as he got out from the couch and gave her a gentle pat on the head. “I have to go. Nanami will be here soon. Please make sure to follow the treatment plan and take care of yourself.”

Akemi nodded, though her gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “Alright. I’ll see him when he gets here.”

As Gojou turned to leave, he felt a pang of guilt twisting deep in his gut but pushed it aside. He was a father first before anything else. Sachiro would always be his first and foremost priority amongst everything else.

——

After leaving Akemi’s place, Satoru was driving his car into the evening air beyond the speed limit. And his mind was racing together with him as he thought of you, your son, and the myriad of emotions he was struggling to manage. He couldn’t wait to be home, not literally at his own place, but anywhere with you and his son was his definition of home.

It would be diabolical for him to run into your arms and yell, ‘I’m free! We can be together again!’ No, that would be cruel and disgusting. He respected Akemi just as he respected you. It was himself that he couldn’t respect, because he was the one responsible for the mess that he created. And adding Sachiro’s critical condition on top of the already festering wounds in your relationship? It truly was the manifestation of karma in his actions.

His footsteps bounced through the hospital corridors the moment he arrived, each impatient step was ready to see your face and tell you he would never leave you and Sachiro now. But as he neared the pediatric ICU, his eyes darted around, the sight of his ex-wife was nowhere to be found. And instinctively, his heart pounded in his chest, and a drum of panic seemed to warn him of a storm that was about to come. Something was off, and it scared him.

“Nurse,” he called out, his voice edged with urgency as he approached their station. “Where’s my wife? The boy’s mother?”

The nurse looked up, recognizing the infamous CEO’s face. “Uh, Mr. Gojou, she was heading to the rooftop, I think.”

“What?!” he unintentionally yelled at her face, “Why didn’t you guys keep an eye on her?”

“Sir, calm down. She’s probably going to get some fresh air.”

A cold chill ran down his spine. You were definitely not there for that.

Without another word, he sprinted towards the stairs, taking them two at a time instead of waiting at an elevator together with a group of people. He had to get to you as soon and as fast as he could without another second to waste. Although the climb felt endless, his mind racing with fear and dread was the push he needed to finally reach you.

And upon bursting through the door to the rooftop, he was met with the soft whisper of the evening wind and the heart-stopping sight of you standing perilously close to the edge.

“Y/N!” he called out, his voice breaking with desperation. “Don’t do this. Please, step back.”

You stood motionless, eyes fixed on the distant horizon, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of sorrow. “The world hates me, Satoru,” you whispered, the mellow tone of your voice carried away by the wind. “I’m a burden to everyone, even my own child. I-I just… I want to end it all.”

“No!” Satoru’s heart shattered at your words while he moved closer, his hands outstretched and careful not to startle or provoke you. He was dying to have you in his arms and keep you safe. “Y/N, please. Come back. What about Sachi? What about me? We need you. Sachiro needs you. I need you.”

What exactly made you go here? How did thoughts of ending yourself suddenly come into fruition? Was there something you discovered that brought you to this ultimatum? Gojou was desperate, utterly desperate, to hear what was running through your mind so that he could at least ease the burden that you were carrying all by yourself. He was once in the position where he wanted to commit too, and he knew the temptation that came with permanently escaping the cruelty of the world in just a single action.

“Y/N, please. Please, I’m begging. Come to me,” he rattled on in a suffocating whisper, the pleading in his voice was heavy, “Please. I love you. Only you.”

It was when you turned around that Gojou’s world collapsed, and the words you said after had shattered his entire universe.

They were still.

You.

And the wind.

“I’m pregnant,” you finally confessed, voice cracking as you looked at the faint tears that fell from Satoru’s eyes. “I don’t wanna have this baby.”

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

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geekforhorror · 2 months ago

Text

dating dae-ho headcanons

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOURE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), mentions of ptsd, fluff.

my babyyyy 🙁

where do i even start

he is the SOFTEST lover boy ever

he loves you with his entire heart

he would take you out on the most romantic date nights imaginable

also loves staying in and watching movies

he’s the type to remember the small things

he showers you with endless compliments because he sees you as the best thing ever

dae is the biggest fan of physical affection whether it’s giving or receiving

gift giving is also a love language for him

calls you baby, honey, darling, angel

loves showing you off

tells literally everybody about you guys

if there’s people who try messing with you, you can guarantee that dae will fuck them up even if he ends up not winning the fight

he loves kissing you on your forehead, hands, and lips

dae is a SUCKER for receiving kisses on the lips and soft kisses on the neck

every once in a while he has really bad ptsd episodes to the point where he has full blown panic attacks

when you saw him have one for the first time, you didn’t know how to comfort him

after a while you learned what worked to help him calm down

he definitely fidgets and does a lot of stimming

if he accidentally upsets you, he will do anything to make it right because he can’t fathom losing you

nsfw

this man.

first off, he’s such a switch

it doesn’t matter if he’s a dom or a sub, he’s a soft one

when he’s a soft dom, he treats you so fucking well

he always asks for consent no matter how many times you make love together

he never degrades you because it’s just not in him

deeper and softer > faster and rough

he only goes really fast and rough if you REALLY want it or if both of you need it

dae LOVESSSS lazy morning sex

how can he deny his sweet girl?

he praises you like the goddess he sees you as

he loves hickeys with a passion

“tits or ass?” both.

not only that but he’s just obsessed with your entire body

that man is a CERTIFIED MUNCH

he eats pussy like it’s a whole damn meal

loves being woken up with your mouth on his cock

loves being degraded AND praised at the same time

poor boy can’t get off or finish without it :(

he’s not one to really experiment

unfortunately he’s on the vanilla side of things but he is into pegging

i said what i said.

he wants that strap so badly 24/7

i just know he’s big.

7 inches soft and 8.5 inches hard

he’s thick too i don’t make the rules

extremely vocal no matter if he’s a dom or sub

he loves when the two of you exchange sounds because it adds to the intimacy of it all

his favorite positions are missionary (obvi) and cowgirl

whenever the two of you are finished, he loves to cuddle with you and make sure you’re alright

the king of aftercare

dae will run the two of you a bath even if it means him having to carry you to the tub when you’re too sore to walk by yourself

okay that’s it for now yall!

#dae ho #dae ho smut #dae ho squid game #dae ho x reader #kang dae ho #kang dae ho smut #squid game smut #squid game

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dinogoofymutated · 10 months ago

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SFW!Colossus/Fem!Reader

I've been infected with another fictional man the way in which I pumped this out was ridiculous. I happened to re watch the scene in the movies where the government breaks into the mansion and seeing Piotr act like a big brother/dad to all the kids really got to me. That and the Deadpool movies (even though I thinks he's a little stuffy in those.) I even rewatched the episode he had in the animated series so that I knew I would get his character right and DAMN ugh god I juts have a thing for big men with soft hearts. especially the ones who are family oriented.

ALSO HOLY SHIT TY FOR 600 FOLLOWERS???? when did yall get here???? I swear I was at like 48 two weeks ago lmao time flies when you're thirsty for the X men I guess!! TWs: None? No pronouns mentioned but I went ahead and labeled it as fem because it's basically about kids forcefully adopting you as their mom. Kids having night terrors mentioned.

Can you imagine sort of just being adopted by the students at the mansion as mutant mom?? At that point you don't really get a choice. Like you start out being very patient with these kids and making sure to keep bandaids, burn cream, pain meds and all of that because one way or another something is gonna happen- and you want to be prepared.

And then you start making breakfast. I feel like normally they probably have a schedule for who has breakfast duty but if you wake up and can't go back to sleep and you take over no one really cares. More sleep for them!!

And then a few times turns into every morning. And you're setting out ketchup for one kids eggs and syrup for another ones hashbrowns- and making sure not to cook with nuts and make sure there's at least three different things on the table that are Kosher or gluten free. Keeping an eye on everyone as they come to get food and noting who did and did not make it to breakfast this morning so that you can make sure they eat later-

And one day you're waking up at 5am and getting ready for the day so you can go make breakfast like always, and you look in the mirror at some point and just realise, holy fuck, when did you become a parent?

It's such a regular thing for kids to call you mom at that point, a knowing how so many of them have come from rough backgrounds, it makes you really happy to know they find comfort in you and will come find you if they need comforting.

And then there's Piotr. Big, strong, Piotr. Piotr who wakes up before dawn and does chores around the mansion in the early morning air. You can take the man out of the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the man. He does the lawn care, chops wood, takes care of whatever animals that might need feeding, replaces the feed in the bird feeder.

Piotr who makes sure to stop by the kitchen to share a small cup of coffee with you before he does chores. Piotr who hangs Hummingbird feeders right outside the kitchen windows because you mentioned you missed the ones your grandmother used to hang. Just Piotr, being strong and masculine and an absolute sweetheart.

He reminds me of that one quote that heard somewhere about masculinity being about protecting femininity, not rejecting it??? That one!!!

Kids call him dad all the time, and even though yall aren't even together, you become the parents of the school. Scott and Jean?? Love them, but they don't have that same kind of parent energy.

It's such a regular thing for kids to find the two of you interacting one way or another. Someone woke up way too early and enters the kitchen to find yall during your coffee, and there's a sweet moment with yall telling them to go back to bed, or offering to make them a quick breakfast. Maybe if they're really young Piotr will offer to tuck them in. He might be really blunt when telling them there are no monsters, but will be a little more gentle when you set a hand on his arm and give him a bit of a look.

The kiddo asks for both of you to tuck them in and you obviously aren't going to refuse them. Which leads to everyone wanting both of you to tuck them in and soon enough you two are doing curfew checks instead of the professor.

It's becomes so regular for the students to treat you two as their parents, and no one actually believes it when they find out that no, you're not a couple. So, they do what kids do and try to get you two together.

First it starts with making sure you two are sat together during everything they can get away with. Then it moves on to things like mistletoe (out of season, Piotr mistook it as an accidental bloom made by one of the agrokinesis kids and took it down) and then more mischievous plans like telling one of you that the other needed help with one thing or another, knowing that either one of you would help out at the drop of a hat. Sureee, they were lying, but you two didn't know that. (most of the time)

The kids just want to see their parents happy and in love. There's nothing wrong with that, is there? It's not like You and Piotr hadn't been helplessly pining for the other the entire time anyway.

You sigh deeply once you finally sneak out of the dorm room, Piotr right behind you. The tall man takes extra care to shut the door very gently, making sure it clicks in place just as silently.

"I thought we were never going to get her to sleep." You whisper to him. One of the youngest girls attending the school had a rather difficult time with night terrors, and would struggle to fall asleep without being tucked in. When you and Piotr were doing curfew checks tonight, she was the only kiddo still awake, and she had practically begged both of you to stay with her untill she finally did fall asleep. It couldn't be just one of you, It had to be both. No matter how many rooms you both had to check tonight, you would never have left her shaken up in such a state. You just hadn't expected it to take an hour.

"Illyana had similar dreams as a little one. It takes time for children to overcome it." Piotr whispers back as you begin to walk down the hallway to check the rest of the rooms. Even when he whispers, his voice is strong and hard to keep quiet. You know there's truth to what he says, and yet you can't help but wish you could do something more to help her with her nightmares. You rub some warmth into your arms anxiously as you think about it, surprised when you feel the warm weight of Piotr's hand settle in between your shoulder blades.

"You're worrying again." He states, frowning slightly when you look up at him. You send him a resigned smile, before it quickly falls as you look away.

"I can't help it. I worry about all of them, her especially. They just... deserve so much more than their lot in life." You say. Piotr hums in response, his thumb brushing idly against your back.

"Their life like us, you mean? Mutants?" His question makes you wince.

"No. Yes? I don't know. I just... I just wish that we could give them more than... this." You say, waving your hands to motion about the mansion. "The school might very well be the only safe space they have their entire life. The world hasn't been kind to them, and I'm not sure it ever will be." Your words begin to quiet down as you finish the sentence, lowing to a whisper that only he can hear. You'd never, ever want any of these kids hear a word of what you're saying. Knowing that hope is really all they have at their age, and you of all people refuse to be the one to destroy that beautiful childlike optimism.

"That is what we are working for as the X-men, yes? To change that?" Piotr asks you point blank, his hand moving up towards the back of your neck in a soothing manner that still gives you goosebumps, feeling the comforting heat of his hand even stronger than before.

"Yeah, but..."

"Then we are doing all we can." He finishes, a smile on his face that's so determined and confident that it very nearly changes your mind completely. Nonetheless, it's a reassuring smile that makes your chest feel warm and fuzzy. You smile back at him finally, and you swear you see fondness in his eyes.

It doesn't take long before the two of you are finally at your door. You give Piotr a short and sweet goodnight as you begin to step inside, but he stops you before you go, gently catching hold of your arm. For the first time, you think you've seen him debate on his words. His mouth opens, but he doesn't speak at first, and you swear you see a blush rising to his cheeks as he does so.

"You'd make a good mother." He says eventually, and it makes you smile widely.

"You'd make a good dad." You tell him. There's silence between you as he brushes a stray lock of hair away from your face in a fond and caring manner, and you swear you could trick yourself into believing that you and Piotr were already in domestic bliss if this moment goes on for any longer. The tall man leans in, and you find your mind short circuiting as he presses a kiss to your forehead. The simple action somehow leaving you beyond flustered.

"Sleep well, Любовь моя. I will see you in the morning." Piotr tells you, before walking off at his regular stiff pace. You stand in your doorway for a minute, watching him leave with a bit of a confused smile on your face. Out of all the Russian nicknames he's called you in the past, you had never heard him say that one before. You wonder if you should pick up a book on the language as you close your door and finally crawl into bed, although part of you is content to leave it be. Colossus had always been blunt, and you're sure he'd tell you eventually. You fall asleep just as you always do, excited to see him when you wake up in the morning.

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kyri45 · 3 months ago

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✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 30/12✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@pandorainabox ha chiesto: Hope this isn't a dumb question,but do you plan to/already are posting the bio parents ah anywhere where it can be viewed all in one piece? With the between posts in tumblr,it gets confusing and I still don't quite know how to navigate it so I was curious if I could binge read it anywhere all in one clean read? (I constantly want to re-read it lmao,it brings me so much joy,its so damn cute!!) Anyway apologies for the random question!! I love your work,you're doing so good and I hope you have an absolutely wonderful rest of your day/night! Thank you so much for taking your time to read and respond if you do so!! 💚💚🌙

i mean… I THINK the masterpost is the easiest way to read it for now (and once you read one chapter you press “NEXT” at the end of it.)

if I would put it, let’s say, on Webtoon (which I can’t) it kind of would be the same thing. A list if chapters, when you click on one it opens the chapter with the 10-20 panels and then you click the “next” to go to the next one.

i don’t think putting all chapters from one part would be nice since it would be a super duper long list of panels (and the page would take a lot to load with so many medias) and one Part of the comic contains multiple arcs.

i’m open to suggestions though!

@robinpika ha chiesto: I was just wondering why is wukong kaiju form unstable? What inspired you to go that route

it was an headcanon of my of why we never see it in the show, even though it is present in JTTW AND war forms are… well normal in LMK, so I figured he must have a reason why he didn’t use it, considering it could have spare them a lot of trouble giving its power.

@imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: I can't find the option to ask anonymously oof— Enyway this is Tumblr and that's what I'm here for. Ever made a design for a Red son and MK kid? From your AU I mean (ignoring every nature law for a second). Also, where did you got that name for MK from? Is something from Jurney to the west? Mainly thanks to your AU I am going to try and read that book (has more them a 1000 pages :') )

we all subconsciously agreed that the spicynoodle lovechild is Kai from lego ninjago and MK real name is his name in the chinese dub.

@avencaeheng ha chiesto: Can you reccomend any websites to watch lmk? 🙏

You can find MOST of the episodes on youtube. BUT you need also the specials to understand the story. If I link you a site in 2 weeks it will be down. The best is that you join the Lego Monkie Kid Fanspace discord. They have links to see the show and they update them every once in a while.

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: Another silly headcanon <3 Since MK unlocked he’s monkey form he started teething like a baby monkey but… adult. I don’t know how baby monkey teethe but when dogs teethe they get a lot more bite-y and the bites hurt a lot more than before teething. I can imagineMK getting a lot more bitey with things, like chewing food longer then needed be and maybe when he’s play fighting with the baby monkeys he bites one and it chirps and Wukong is like: ! One of my children is in need! And he discovers MK is teething and does something idk yet. After having given my evidence… Do you think this would happen? Does MK have fangs in his human form like how some people draw him?

hi! I guess he did have a period in which he had a little teething.

no, his human form doesn’t have fangs, because his human form is just a kind of glamour/shapeshift. In the AU the monkey form became his normal form (since it always has been his original form to begin with)

toomanylegos ha chiesto: Hey, I just want to say I absolutely adore your ShadowPeach comic and the beautiful art with it. I went through nasal surgery on the 19th, and seeing an update from you really helped soothe my nerves about it, so thank you! I can't wait to see more updates throughout my recovery :D burry-penguin ha chiesto: As a spicynoodle shipper I love your work sm and what ur doing for this community KEEPING US FEED FOR DAYSSS!! 🔥🍜 🔥🍜 You’re so amazing and keep doing what you’re doing because you’re a damn good story teller and artist. You’ll go so far someday! You’ve helped put a smile on my face on my best and worst days just from seeing each new update and going absolutely fuckin feral over it and I thank you for that 🫶 imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: Not really a ask. I would just like to say I inhaled your AU comic like a vacum cleaner in less them a day, also big fan of the art style. Anonimo ha chiesto: I'm recovering from a toxic relationship and the shadowpeach bio parents au is helping me think through everything ,, The love these monkies show me how relationships are supposed to make you feel good... thank u

turtlewearingclothes ha chiesto: Howdy! I just wanted to say thank you for making your amazing comic, and being the reason I got into Lego Monkie Kid. I've heard of the show, but I never watched it. Then I came across your comic like, 2-3 weeks ago? And after binging it, I decided to watch the show, and now I'm obsessed lol. Thank you!

AWWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE!!!♥️♥️♥️

@selfdestructivecat ha chiesto: Hey so I recently binged your LMK comic because I absolutely fell in love with your ISAT x COTL comic and knew anything you made would be amazing. I’ve never seen LMK though so I’m sure I lost some of the context (it was still so good though, I’m really rooting for everything to work out for the characters!) But I decided to give the actual series a try because of the comic! And here was where I planned on writing you a message after a few episodes to thank you for getting me into a new series, but… I’m on episode one. I only watched the intro. Dude. IM ABSOLUTELY HOOKED. THE ANIMATION! THE STYLE! THE CHARACTERS! I’m so so excited to watch more (which I’m gonna do now!) but thank you so much for bringing this series to my attention!!!

ahaha welcome to the club!, now you can enjoy both comics!

@therivergirl ha chiesto: I remember back in the beggining of eclipse arc you mentioned that Mac feels insecure about his body being part of the reason he's hesitant to take of his clothes even in front of Wukong and it being part of the reason (aside from basic decency) that Wukong looked away. And now in this part Mac appears butt-naked to help Wukong out, adding yet another layer of vulnerability...gah! (Maybe I should finally watch LMK because I feel I would be doubly obsessed with this comic then...)

For Mac being exposed was the last of his issues considering that what he was seeing was Wukong at his lowest and most naked. Now excuse me while I cry.

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: You probably know Chang’E’s story from LMK, but did you know there is a second version of her story that I like better? In the second version Chang’E and her husband(I forgot his name), are getting used to living as mortals after being kicked out of heaven. But someone hears of the immortal elixir they have and try to steel it while Chang’E’s husband is out hunting. After getting beat up a bit she decides to drink the elixir so the robber couldn’t get it. But she instead went to the moon so she could be closer to her lover. Her husband dies because he’s still mortal, and Chang’E is left be herself. I have silly little headcanon the day MK and the others went to the moon was her and her husband’s anniversary 🙃 Bye <3

AH. OK.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Do you think that wukong and macaque act like cats?

as in they would purr? I moslty think Wukong wants to cuddle and stroke his head on Mac neck like a cat, while Mac is that one cat that sometime is annoyed when people touch him but eventually let them do it.

Anonimo ha chiesto: ✨Hear me out :3✨ MK can hear the past. He heard the fight of of prentice and held his eye like he was getting hurt by Wukong and not Macaque. So now picture this: MK has a vision again, his this time it is about how the monk used the circlet on him :3

AHAH. NOW HE CAN’T SEE TANG THE SAME WAY AGAIN. FUCK.

Anonimo ha chiesto: When I first found your comic in your TikTok account, I thought it was something very silly... How very VERY wrong I was.(As I get shot 57 times.) I hope you are taking very good care of yourself because when I downloaded Tumblr to keep myself updated to your comics(which was somewhere around 13-16 December probably) there are a LOT of panels. I enjoyed the newest and most recent parts of the shadowpeach bio parent au and can't wait for the next!!! Don't work yourself to the bone too much! Remember to take mental and physical breaks.

AGHDMHSMFYS THANK YOU!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Are there others who flirt with MK ? He looks good, is very powerful and has a sunshine personality. I bet there are others who are interested in him

I guess there haven’t been any for NOW.

Anonimo ha chiesto: After reading the post about swk's circlet, I srsly want him to look at mk and say "oh, hey we're matching!" ... "OH SHIT WHY ARE WE'RE MATCHING?!"

NOOOOOO!!

@delightfulcupquakequeen ha chiesto: Hey there!!! Been awhile sincenI've written an ask, just wanted to send love and being greatful that you are doig this amazing AU!!!! Appreciating ever pannel you make and gosh dammit hitting me right in the korokoro!!!! Keep being your fabulous self!!! Until next time!

THANK YOUUUUU

@l1br4rycrypt1d ha chiesto: Feel free to ignore this if it's spoilers for the comic, but are we gonna get to see the Gold Star of Venus? Just curious, since you reblogged the meme post that mentioned him during the takeover

There will be a small space for them as well, yes.

@kaothedemon ha chiesto: Fun fact, while I doubt Pigsy has all of Zhu Bajie's powers, his ancestor did have a kaiju form, which he could use if he ate a fuckton I'm sure it's not gonna appear in the story, but the idea of Heaven having to deal with 3 Kaiju dads (+ theoretically a sworn uncle) is extremely funny to me (picture courtesy of OSP's latest JTTW episode cause even when I read the book there weren't any illustrations of this)

I SAW THAT!! Man now they must add it to the show. Yeah I don't think he has ALL of Zhu Bajie's powers (I don't think he would ever want to have them) but it would be interesting if it was a high stake situation

@roseltelle ha chiesto: I think Macaque would actually enjoy working/ volunteering at the playhouse specifically doing shadow plays. But he does regular plays as well. His favorite days are when classes of children come in for field trips. Wukong often paints the backdrops, scenery, and other items for plays. They both enjoy their hobbies.

Awwwww yeah I think Macaque would totally love that.

@lmk4ever ha chiesto: Can you imagine Wukong just being out of it after he distracted the celestials for too long in his war form?

I think that as soon as he sees Macaque again he immediately switch back and become behaved again.

@peach-fury ha chiesto: I think I know the answer but theoretically... Who's war form/kajiu is stronger Wukongs or Macaque's and how would it go? I don't know it started as a thought. Now I can't stop laughing.

Wukong's is stronger.

blbllblblblll ha chiesto: do you know the pronunciation of xiaotian? ive been stuck on how to say his name for so long 😭

I know that the "Qi" is pronunced "Chi" and I think "xiao" is pronunced the same as you would read it, while I THINK the "t" in "tian" is more of a mix between a t and a c/k? I aint chinese and the way I pronounce things or read them is probably different from u cause I'm italian.

eerieqloss ha chiesto: Okay question, is Wukong's war form bigger/taller than MK's?

it's taller.

@elliboom ha chiesto: I was wondering, will Erlang Shen ever appear in the Shadowpeach parent series? (And questa domanda la scrivo in italiano giusto per levarmi un’altra curiosità in futuro, preferisci che le domande vengono scritte solo in inglese o vanno bene anche in italiano? So che non ci sono molti italiani ad essere fan di LMK e JTTW, posso capire la scelta di scriverli solo in inglese per rispetto e far capire ai altri fan, e generalmente per scrivere le domande uso google translate, perché faccio pena con la grammatica inglese, mi scuso se in futuro farò domande con qualche errore 🥲🥲)

Si apparirà. Manda pure in italiano shalla ahah.

#ask box #shadowpeach bio parents au

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thollandneedy · 9 months ago

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Princess Leia Situation- Peter Parker

A/n: I always wanted to write this one, since i watched Friends for the first time. I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Sexual but not a smut; Cursing; Awkwardness

Summary: Y/n tries out a sexy costume for Valentines day, but it goes wrong

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

Peter's bedroom door was closed, as he needed privacy at that moment. Peter's mouth descended slowly between wet kisses and hickeys on his girlfriend Y/n's neck, while the girl guided his head down her sensitive body with her hand. The girl could feel the slight pressure between her legs, and her boyfriend's heart beating hard against her chest.

The sexual air was very palpable, but lately Y/n seemed to be preoccupied with routine sex. Apart from the fact that it had already been an argument with her boyfriend, the girl had been searching every day for ways to improve their sexual relationship, but no idea seemed to be enough.

They had tried positions like 69 or a tantric massage, but nothing seemed to please Peter very much. Since they had started having sex in their third month of dating, he had always tried to show off his skills or introduce different objects to stimulate his girlfriend better. The brunette wasn't hard in bed, but he liked to learn more about his tastes every day by trying different things on his own or with Y/n. St. Valentine's Day was approaching, as was the anticipation of a fuck he would never forget.

"'Babe?" Peter caught the eye of his girlfriend, who seemed to have lost her way.

"Hmm?" Y/n focuses her eyes on Peter, who looks at her with a slight smile.

"What were you thinking?" The boy uses one of his fingers to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, then kisses her.

"Just about your Valentine's Day present. I want our night to be perfect."

"My darling." Peter looks at her lovingly. "Don't worry about it. It's already going to be perfect because it's you, so whatever you have planned, don't put so much pressure on yourself."

"I know." The girl let all the air out of her chest as she replied, still staring at the image of her boyfriend with a white blouse clinging to his muscles.

Fuck, he was so damn hot

"Sorry to break the mood. Can we go back?" The girl asks, receiving a silent affirmation in response.

Peter melted into Y/n's lips once again, bringing one of his hands up to the girl's exposed thighs and squeezing. His fingers were dangerously close to her crotch, causing a sly moan to be uttered. Y/n's body seemed to vibrate at her boyfriend's touch, making her raise her waist in search of the intimate touch she so desperately needed.

"I'll take care of you, love." The brunette slid his fingers between the girl's legs, letting all her worries go to waste when he found that perfect spot.

(...)

Valentine's Day, and she still hadn't thought of what to do.

It seemed like everyone on earth had an idea for later, but she hadn't planned anything much, since Peter was going to cook for her in his apartment. Y/n woke up mentally yelling at herself, because as well as being in finals week, she hadn't liked the present she'd bought for her boyfriend. The white bag on her desk in front of the window was a reminder.

I shouldn't have bought a Grogu mug, Y/n thinks.

The silence in her house was customary, but she realized that she had woken up two hours before her lesson, giving her time to watch television and eat cereal like a child watching a cartoon. The girl in the pink sweater and slippers got out of bed, headed for the kitchen to prepare her cereal and watch Friends, as she did almost every day. Letting the streaming channel choose a random episode, she ran to the cutlery drawer to get a spoon, and finally settled down between pillows and a warm blanket.

At the end of the episode, and the cereal, his brain exploded with the best idea he could have come up with. With an optimistic smile, Y/n kissed the television and laughed.

"Rachel Green, you're a genius. I love you" The girl in pajamas says to the screen, and runs to her room to change.

Later that day, in the apartment left by May so that Peter and Y/n could spend the night alone, the girl was tapping her feet frantically. The spaghetti bolognese seemed to go down her throat like water, not even giving her time to chew it properly. The lights were off, with only a few candles that smelled of pine cones. Peter, with a worried frown, asked:

"Are you in a hurry?" The brunette laughs to himself, and can hear Y/n's heart beating faster when she is asked.

Y/n brings her eyes up to his, staring at him with her mouth smeared with red sauce. The girl silently denies it, letting out a laugh covered by a napkin. Peter leans against the table, reaching out with the napkin to wipe the rest of the sauce off his girlfriend. The girl smiles, looking down at her black-heeled feet and long-sleeved burgundy tube dress.

"You look beautiful today, you know that?" Parker compliments her.

The girl lets out a nervous laugh, looking down at her handbag on the kitchen worktop.

Oh, fuck me

"You look wonderful as always." Y/n returned the compliment to her boyfriend, who was wearing a black polo shirt.

The student picked up the glass of white wine in front of them, raising it with the intention of making a toast. Coughing dryly, Y/n copied his boyfriend's action, smiling forcedly at him. Parker had never been much of a drinker, but he couldn't deny that wine always helped him calm down before sex, or even put him in the mood when he wasn't.

"Here's to us. May we spend every future Valentine's Day together from now on." The brunette said, causing a shy smile from his girlfriend, who still had her legs flapping under the table.

"To us" The girl clinked glasses, then drank the wine in one swallow.

"Shall we go and exchange gifts?" Peter stood up, picking up the two empty glasses and empty plates from the table covered in a gray cloth with gold details.

There was no escape

"Umm, of course! That's it, let's get to the presents. Of course" The girl straightens her babylissed locks and puts them to one side.

Peter sits down in front of her at the table once again, but now with a small black and white bag with a red handle. As much as he would have liked to hide the brand of the bag, any woman could recognize that it was from Sephora.

"I snooped through your Sephora bag, but you had more than 100 items curated and I still haven't been promoted to work in another area with Stark." Y/n laughs. "So, I preferred to give you this" Peter hands the bag to his girlfriend, watching her expectantly as she opens it.

"Peter! I really loved it." Y/n smiles as she finds a highlighter and a Fenty gloss. The girl stood up, walked over to her boyfriend and hugged him.

"Well, yours..." Y/n looked once more at the bag that held the mug. "It's not here right now." Y/n tries to explain.

"You can give it to me later, love. No problem." Peter nods.

"No! It's not that, I need you to wait in your room, so I can give you the present."

Peter makes a curious face, but not for a million years would he turn down a sexual offer as a Valentine's Day present.

"All right" The brunette heads for his room, closing the door and waiting for the gift his girlfriend has prepared.

Shit! Fuck!" Y/n looked in her other bag for the mysterious gift she had rented from the costume store the afternoon after her last lesson. Stumbling over her own heels, the girl locked herself in the bathroom at the end of the corridor, cursing herself for coming up with such a miraculous idea at the last minute.

Her hands tried to add a bun to her hair, securing it with bobby pins that fell to the floor because of the cramped room.

"Shit!" Y/n curses as she loses the clips on the floor, then bangs her head against the sink.

The gold bikini seemed small in relation to her breasts, so she tried to make them fit without them slipping out of the factory. Her hands tried to make them fit, but every now and then, the knot on her back came undone, or one of her breasts slid to the side. When she looked in the mirror, her hair still didn't look the way it needed to. The side bun looked more like a bird's nest than a space bun. Groaning in discontent, Y/n grabbed her cell phone from the closed toilet and tried to do another type of hair that wouldn't cost her soul to make it perfect.

Peter, on the other hand, was undressed on his single bed, trying to find some position to receive his girlfriend. He didn't want to look like a sexy fireman on a calendar cover, but he didn't know where to put his hands, or even if he was going to cover himself with the rumpled sheet on his bed.

A few minutes later, he was distracted by his cell phone, which was vibrating with Twitter notifications. As long as Y/n was taking, his lack of concentration meant that 15 minutes passed too quickly. Lying on his stomach with a pillow on his chest, the brunette commented on posts and was distracted by memes that appeared on his timeline every five minutes he slid further from the beginning.

"Peter?" Y/n's voice called his name, causing the boy to drop his cell phone and leave the shooting game he was playing on his cell phone.

"Yes?" The brunette lay down on the bed, covering most of his body as if he were already ready for bed, and switched off the main light in the room so that his lamp would be the only source of light in the room filled with posters and books.

Peter's bedroom door slowly opened, revealing his girlfriend's body in the most iconic Star Wars bikini. His girlfriend's breasts were perfectly embraced by the golden part of the bikini, while her waist was covered only by a long red skirt with golden details at the top. Her hair was in a messy braid, but nothing really said how Y/n looked. Even though many of the details were poorly finished, and especially the top was too small for her breasts, Peter looked at her as if she were too perfect for him. The boy cracked a slow smile, and his eyes seemed to pop out of his face with every step closer to his girlfriend.

"Y/n" Peter said, processing the surprise his girlfriend had given him. And without even realizing the movement of his body, one of his hands went to his mouth in an expression of surprise.

He hated it

Oh my God

He hated it or he thinks I'm pathetic

"I know! I know, it was a stupid idea, I'm sorry." The girl closes her eyes in frustration and shame. "I bought you a grogru mug, but I wanted to do something better because you always make everything for me so perfect, and I know how much you like Star Wars and I thought it would be cool to do the same as Rachel did in Friends and" The girl is cut off by a quick kiss.

"I don't have the hots for Princess Leia, but you look stunning." Peter holds both of the girl's hands, looking her up and down.

"Really?"

" Yes." Peter smiles. "And by the way, I broke my favorite mug last night. I really needed another one." The brunette smiles, which is answered by a loose laugh from his girlfriend.

"Aren't I an idiot?" The girl shrugged, looking at herself once again.

"Not at all." Peter replied, using his index finger to lift the chin of the girl, who watched him with innocent eyes. "Are you going to let me put my lightsaber on you now?"

"PETER!"

#tom holland #tom holland x fem #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #peter parker smut #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #peter parker #friends #mcu!peter parker #mcu!peter x reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years ago

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HII!! CAN U DO A PAVITR PRABHAKAR X READER WHERE THEY SHARE THEIR FIRST KISS (OR READERS FIRST KISS, WHATEVER YOU WANT!!!) AKISISSJSJ IDK WHAT TO REQUEST CAUSE ITS MY FIRST REQUEST LMFAO - 🧑🏽‍🔧

I hope this wasn’t absolute arse as I started like some of this late in the night so there are probs inconsistencies.

‘It’s so obvious that they like each other but due to their assumptions that the other will reject them, they look for the same love in other people, only to be drawn back together because there’s no one who could love them quite like them.’ Pavitr said from your side as you both were indulging in some much needed free time by catching up on episodes of a recent show that you’ve missed. It was a great way to pass the time when nothing else of interest seemed to entice you, plus it was made even better when you got to spend it with Pavitr and his commentary regarding the love interests that you’ve grown to find endearing overtime.

‘We’ve seen this trope happen so many times in the other shows we’ve watched before this.’ You replied, looking over at him, knowing wholeheartedly that you’ve just provoked the preverbal bear, but that didn’t matter as to hear Pavitr speak passionately about something he felt so deeply made you admire him in ways you didn’t know you could.

‘It’s a fail proof formula that wins out every time!’ Pavitr exclaims before sighing dreamily as his mind began to wander amidst his many thoughts, ‘besides who doesn’t want to experience a love like that? a love that your willing to go through trial and tribulation for because you could never truly give your heart to someone else when they had their name carved into the very essence of your being by just smiling, by just being unapologetically them in all their flaws.’ Pavitr stopped midway through his speech to smile softly to himself when imagines of you popped in the forefront of his mind, it made him feel nostalgic and in a way it made him miss your presence despite you being right next to him.

Pavitr was a romantic at heart and so too did he naturally speak from it also, but due to the fact that you were just really good friends made him a little hesitant in pursuing you under the pretences that you didn’t feel the same way that he had for while now. Pavitr knew he couldn’t control his heart the moment it began picking up it’s pace within your presence, only to gradually pick up even more with the slightest things you did that he adored or moved in closer proximity to him to the point he thought he was going to pass out; fortunately for Pavitr he didn’t, sitting on elevated structures was dangerous enough but sitting on elevated structures whilst on the verge of potentially passing out wouldn’t have made for a great combination.

Despite experiencing the universal fear of rejection, it never truly stopped Pavitr from being close to you as humanly possible. After all you’re his best friend first and he’d be damned to let his romantic attachment and his fear create a rift between you two, which is why the now tradition of binge watching dramas was created for it gave him the opportunity to spend time with you; being Spider-man was amazing in and of it’s own but what wasn’t amazing was the fact that he wasn’t given as much time with you as he wanted, Mumbattan needed it’s hero but he, Pavitr Prabhakar, not Spider-Man, needed you more.

‘It’s a love many people desire but don’t have willpower to go through with as it tends to possess the ability to overwhelm them and become suffocating but it shouldn’t be that way when you’re in love.’ He explained and you listened intently to every word that fell from his lips that you’ve been transfixed on for the majority of his speech. ‘Love is an all encompassing force that can make you feel a multitude of emotions but you know when a love is right when they make you feel as though you can do anything, be anything, become anything with unbiased judgment. Real love is accepting that they are human and are bound by mistakes, real love is being the others hero but most of all real love is just two souls growing a deeper affection for humanity’s inner beauty.’ He finished, looking at you with a smile.

‘That was beautiful Pavitr.’ You tell him, ‘I know your a sucker for romance but that was especially impassioned,’ you nudged his arm in an act of playful banter despite hearing the sound of your heart breaking over having lost the boy you liked who wasn’t yours to have feelings for because like he said you could never truly give your heart to someone else when they had their name carved into the very essence of your being. ‘So…who’s the lucky person that’s made your heart sing like a canary?’ You mentally applauded yourself for being able to made it through that entire sentence without cracking from under the inevitable heartbreak you were about to experience.

Pavitr, ever the opportunist, saw the chance to admit his hearts deepest desire, sure the setting could’ve been a little better that what he had in mind but Pavitr was willing to work with whatever he was given to his advantage. So he grabbed ahold of your hands and given them a tight, comforting squeeze as he made sure to keep eye contact with you when he said his next words over the sound of his racing heart; ‘it’s you, you taught me how beautifully terrifying love can be when in the face of rejection but once upon a time you told me that it’s better to have tried then to have never have tried at all.’ You did in fact remember telling him that when he once asked you what he should do if he ever developed a crush and wanted to ask them out, which at the time only slightly stung in comparison to the overwhelmingly excruciating pain of self deprivation along with ever other human emotion attacking your sense.

Despite the verbal confirmation, you still were in a state of doubt and insecurity that it made it hard for you to believe the reality of his words no matter how hard your heart was telling you to. ‘Why me though? I’m not that special.’ Is your response and the way Pavitr’s face seemed to drop only made your fears all the more real, here he was bearing his heart out to you in a way that you could’ve only conjured up in your dreams and yet you still had to find some way to ruin it by doubting his genuine feelings. ‘Not that special?’ Pavitr repeated, his upset becoming more evident but it wasn’t in due to you but more so towards the fact that you didn’t hold yourself to the same standard that he did; which was pretty damn high. ‘Not that special?’ He repeats again, ‘you’re more then special! To me, you’re the reason the stars are hung in the sky, you’re the reason flowers bloom, birds sing in the morning and why I awake with a smile upon my face and fresh breath in my lungs. To me you’re the reason for my happiness, for my hope for the future and for my beating heart that quickens upon seeing you.’

Pavitr then went onto prove this point by pulling one of your hands that he has in his grasp towards his chest where you could feel it’s quickened pace branch your fingertips. ‘See?’ He tells you, keeping your hand against his chest, ‘that’s because of you and you still don’t think you’re special when your everything I could ever think about? I miss you when your not here but miss you even more when you are because we’re not as close as I’d like us to be but that’s not something I wish to put upon you if it’s not what your heart desires.’ He finished and you couldn’t help but start to tear up, from his impassioned speech to his unwavering acceptance to the possibility of you not feeling the same, only further proved to you how much of a beautiful soul Pavitr Prabhakar was and how fucking lucky you were to be able to know him as deeply as you did.

There was so much going off inside your head that the only response that you could come up with was; ‘Just kiss me already.’ And within a matter of seconds Pavitr had both hands cupping your cheeks as he leant in and pressed his lips firmly against yours, which had you both smiling giddily at the warmth spreading throughout your body as your lips continued to press and weave against one another in such sweet tandem; that at some points you almost forgot to pull apart for air but when you did remind yourselves that you had lungs that were in desperate need of oxygen. You didn’t dare stray too far from one another as Pavitr pressed his forehead against yours, eyes stilled closed and a dopey, lovey smile gracing his lips.

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to top your confession speech but I hope something as simple as this is enough because I like you too Pavitr Prabhakar.’ You whispered against his lips, ‘I like you a lot that when you’d talk about your crush it’d hurt but now knowing what I do now, the brief moment of pain I felt pales in comparison to the light, warm, comforting sensations I get when I’m only with you. For it was all worth this very moment.’ You finished before stealing a cheeky peck from his lips; causing him to whine when you pulled back. ‘No, give me a proper kiss.’ You chuckled but obliged to his requested and gave him a proper kiss to the lips, though this time Pavitr’s hands moved to your waist and your hands took to cupping his cheeks and soon you were back to feeling that lighthearted and warmth place.

#spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman atsv imagines #spiderman atsv x you #spiderman atsv fic #spiderman atsv imagine #across the spiderverse #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar imagines #pavitr prabhakar imagine #pavitr prabhakar fic #pavitr prabhakar x you

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ilikecrocssuckit · 3 months ago

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BG3 Headcanons No One Asked For (ilikecrocssuckit edition)

Inspired by the wonderful series by @grenanigans

This episode: Each companion at the movie theater!

Astarion

Gets Hot Tamales candy or other cinnamon one just because it allows him to feel some semblance of warmth.

Pretends to like horror movies. Actually finds them deeply troubling and triggering but he'll be twice-damned if he shows that.

Chronic hater of every movie ever.

Gale

Rather disgusted by theater concessions. Still buys the biggest popcorn because he knows it's how they make money.

Seeks out the artiest and most pretentious films possible. Donates to the Baldur's Gate film festival and submits to it every year specifically to support such films.

Meticulously crafts his Letterboxd reviews after every screening.

Karlach

Wants to get a shushy but they always melt too fast so she never bothers anymore. Settles for popcorn, nachos, and 3 hot dogs.

Genuinely loves horror movies and finds Ghostface, Art the Clown, and Michael Myers attractive. Mostly though, she just loves being at the movies.

Cheers and laughs and generally reacts enthusiastically when the movie calls for it. She always cleans up after herself if she spills though.

Lae'zel

Rarely eats at the theater until she learns that they make money off of concessions, then follows Gale's lead because she finds the fact that they don't make money doing the thing they're designed for reprehensible.

Mostly just fascinated by the fact that movies exist and people put effort into creating them. Deeply interested in the filmmaking process and specifically looks for Blu-Rays with extensive behind the scenes features when she likes the movie. Treasures her Lord of the Rings Extended Editions for this reason.

Obsessively watches those "Expert Breaks Down Scenes From Movies and TV" videos because she wants to know where her favorite things succeed and fail so she can write letters to those responsible in the crew.

Shadowheart

Loves the Good & Plentys or other licorice candies. Doesn't like popcorn. Gets an obnoxiously large drink though and almost always beelines for the bathroom after the movie's over or sometimes during. Relies on Lae'zel to fill her in afterwards because Lae'zel won't speak during the movie itself. This has caused her to be confused about major plot points on multiple occasions.

Loves the horror movies that even make Karlach squirm. The really extreme horror ones that get like a one or two night release or get shown at the grindhouse that Orin frequents. Also has a soft spot for family dramas and romantic comedies but she'll never suggest them as something to go see.

Genuinely fails to see the point of theaters in the age of streaming [Editor's note: Yes, I do hate this about her.] Still goes because it makes Lae'zel happy.

Wyll

Buys a big slushie and puts it in Karlach’s cup holder. Gets a modest popcorn for himself.

Doesn't particularly have a lot of preference for what they watch. Usually just lets it all soak in. Has a penchant for swashbuckler epics though, and secretly keeps his eye out for rereleases of some of the classics. Sad there are hardly any made anymore.

Has the theater membership so everyone else can get cheaper tickets. Is happy to help his friends be more social and get out of the house.

Bonus

Halsin

Has a kink about sex in the back of the theater. Rarely gets to indulge. Sometimes goes to whatever the biggest R-rated bomb of the weekend is with his date so he can do so.

Jaheira

Exclusively sees children's and family movies with her wards and Minsc. Too busy otherwise. Maintains an encyclopedic knowledge of them regardless.

Made the mistake of thinking animation=kid-friendly only once.

Minsc

Only goes when Boo is excited for a movie or when asked by one of Jaheira's wards.

Boo loves to watch space sci-fi to laugh at the inaccurate aliens. Still appreciates practical effects of them though. Minsc just enjoys explosions and cool spaceships.

Wishes someone would make a movie about him. He would absolutely be banned from the set for being too nitpicky.

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di-writes-stuff · 2 years ago

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The Very First Night

Derek Shepherd x fem!Reader

One Shot

TW: Literally nothing. I’m taking a quick break from Evermore because I am so in love with this man I need to write some fluffy shit for him. No use of Y/N

A/N: This is based around the whole prom episode. I needed some self indulgent fluffiness. Also yes I’m ignoring both Meredith and Addisons existence in relation to Derek. Fight me.

When the chief announced that Seattle Grace Hospital would be holding a prom, you would have thought he was kidding if he didn’t look so deadly serious.

You made a point not to look at a certain man when he announced it.

Derek Shepherd has made it his ultimate goal to get you on a date with him.

Under any other circumstance, you would have said yes in a heartbeat. Hell, you would have been praying for him to ask the second you met him.

He’s smart, he’s funny, he’s a neurosurgeon for God’s sake, not to mention that he’s absolutely gorgeous.

Derek Shepherd is perfect.

He’s also your boss.

The one and only reason you aren’t leaping at the prospect of a date with him.

The label of “slutty intern sleeping with her boss to get ahead” isn’t an appealing one.

But still, the man is very convincing.

You’re doing charts when he sidles up to you, that smile you always stare at a little too long plastered on his face.

He leans against the counter your working on, watching you while you work.

And desperately try to stay professional when you look at him.

“Do you need something, Dr. Shepherd?” You use his title pointedly, a reminder of the barrier between the two of you.

He couldn’t care less.

“Just some information.” He speaks casually, shrugging as he begins to walk, and you follow him without a second thought.

He’s whittling you down, and you both know it.

“About…?” You try to force a smile off your face, but it’s no use. He’s infectious. His flirting. His smile.

Him.

You’re not somebody who fails. You’re an incredible doctor, you’re going to be an incredible surgeon. You were always considered an academic weapon, acing almost every class you’ve taken.

You don’t fail.

But when it comes to resisting Derek?

You think you’re about to.

“You got any plans for prom?” He speaks smoothly, comfortably, like he’s not a grown man asking a grown woman to the prom.

Like he’s not praying you’ll say yes.

You laugh, looking down at the ground instead of his eyes.

His beautiful eyes.

“I guess I’m coming, but no, I don’t have plans.” You place a special emphasis on plans. You both know what plans means.

A date.

Derek smiles, brushing your side gently, getting you to look back up at him, your gaze softening when you see him.

“Great, I’ll pick you up at nine.” He grins at you, looking very pleased with himself.

You go to speak, and you plan on saying no before you do. Explaining for what feels like the millionth time that nothing can happen between the two of you.

And hating every second of it.

But instead, it’s like your brain does you a favor, and speaks before you can decide what to say.

“Okay.” Your voice is a little breathy, and obviously nervous.

Shock passes over his eyes for a second before the smile on his face grows wider, reaching his eyes and making them sparkle.

Really, how the hell were you supposed to say no to that?

Your hands brush for a moment, his fingers sweeping past yours, sending your heart rate up.

He says something before walking away, but you aren’t really paying attention, more panicking at what you just got yourself into.

You’re going to prom with Derek Shepherd.

You never planned on taking this very seriously. You were just gonna throw on your dress from senior year, slip into some heels, and head back to the hospital.

But now?

Needless to say, you’ll be spending more time getting ready.

……………………………………………………………………………………

Two hours.

You left work early, and spent two damn hours getting ready for the prom.

All because of Derek Shepherd.

He’s the bane of your existence.

You can’t think around him.

You can’t think about much besides him.

When you’re with him, your happier than you’ve ever been.

Everything about him just makes you adore him more. His personality, his talent, his skills, his smile, his laugh, everything.

He might just be the love of your life.

You brush out the carefully placed curls in your hair, watching as they fall over your shoulders in waves. Your old prom dress still fits you, thank God.

The satin fabric hugs your waist, thin straps showing off your collarbone and shoulders.

A slit runs up from the bottom of the flowing skirt of the dress, stopping around the middle of your thigh.

Even you have to admit you look good.

You slip on your heels when you hear a knock at the door, and you swear you feel your heart stop.

You look at the clock by your bed.

9:00 exactly.

He really might be perfect.

Meredith peeks her head into your room, you’re living with her for the time being.

She smiles when she sees you despite how uncomfortable you look.

You haven’t been on a date in months, and you don’t think you’ve been this gussied up in years.

“You look great. I’m sure Derek’s gonna agree.” She teases you, all your friends have known you have a thing for Derek since you started your internship at Seattle Grace.

And now that you finally caved and said yes to a date with him?

You’re gonna be hearing a lot of shit about it tomorrow.

You can’t help but feel like this’ll be worth it.

“Thank you, and shut up.” Meredith laughs at your attitude, heading downstairs to her boyfriend, Finn.

You follow behind her, exhaling nervously before opening the front door to find Derek standing in front of you.

Derek, decked out in a suit and tie.

His hair is perfect, as usual.

And in his hands, a bouquet.

A bouquet of your favorite flowers.

You mentioned it once. A simple, offhand comment. You can’t even remember how it came up. But he did.

He remembered. He cared.

He’s making it really hard for you not to fall in love with him.

For a second you recognized an expression on his face you’re not sure you’ve seen before. He looked nervous. That was before his classic McDreamy smile appeared on his face when he saw you.

“Did I get it right?” He asked, handing you the flowers.

You’re blushing like a schoolgirl, honestly a bit giddy. Here you are, getting flowers, being taken to prom by the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

You nod, taking them and stepping inside to let Derek in.

“Yeah, yeah you got it right.” You speak quieter than you usually would as you quickly place the flowers in the vase, smiling widely when you feel his eyes glued to your every move.

You turn around to find Derek watching you, a sweet smile on his face, a look in his eyes that means more than just simple attraction.

He admires you carefully, not as a painting, a still, lifeless thing meant for him to enjoy, to examine, to scrutinize.

No.

He admires you like a worshipper in church.

He adores you, and the look in his eyes might as well be a sign around his neck that reads ‘I’m in love with you.’

“You’re beautiful.” His voice is breathy when he speaks, and the words cause a vivid blush to rise on your face.

You utter your thanks shyly, stepping towards him and taking his hand when he offers it. He regains his composure quickly, slipping back into the flirty pattern you two follow.

Still, the basis of it, the reason why all of this is happening.

It’s not flirtation. Not attraction. Not even because you like each other.

It’s more than that.

It’s love.

He leads you to his car, you’ve been in it a couple times before, on the way to dinners you swore weren’t dates, nights spent with one another when you were still adamant on refusing to develop feelings for your boss.

Or, adamant on pretending not to, at least.

The car ride isn’t terribly long, but somewhere in the middle of it, your hand is on the middle console when Derek’s comes down from the wheel, landing on top of yours.

You don’t move, and he takes the opportunity to interlace your fingers, earning a smile from you that makes him wish he could freeze time and stay in this moment forever.

“Thank you, for asking me.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and you look over at him. His eyes stay glued to the road, but you watch as the corners of his mouth lift to a smile.

“Thank you for saying yes.” He quips back, looking over to you when you stop at a red light.

You laugh for a moment before responding. “It was about damn time.”

The moonlight glistens off his face as he laughs, every detail about him making you fall for him more.

He’s mesmerizing, and you can’t bring yourself to take your gaze off of him.

You’ve got it bad.

“Yeah, it was.” Theres still laughter lingering in his voice when he speaks, and you think you could melt right then and there at the sound of it.

It’s not long after that when you arrive at the hospital. You go to open your door before Derek does so for you, going to the effort of helping you out.

“What a gentlemen.” You say teasingly, letting your hand stay clasped in his as you walk into the hospital.

“I’ve been trying to land a date with you for months, I’m not gonna screw it up now.” He smiles down at you when he speaks, scanning your face. Pieces of hair fall to frame it, and he brings his free hand up to brush them away quickly, knowing the affect it has on you when you blush and look away quickly.

You’re honestly a bit shocked when you see how put together the whole event it, decorations are everywhere, and the lobby has been turned into a dance floor.

You already see a few people you know, the ones that came here with dates are already dancing, and the ones that are alone?

Well, they’re drinking the night away.

You don’t realize where Derek is taking you, too busy looking around, until his arm slips around your waist, and his other hand is holding yours as you’re pressed flush to his chest.

Derek Shepherd just asked you to dance, without saying a word.

“May I?” He’s good at this, and he knows it.

For a brief, insecure moment, you wonder why. You wonder if the reason this is so natural for him is because you’re not the only woman he does it for.

If you’re just a phase.

A tough one to crack.

You worry that he doesn’t feel the same way as you do.

But then, you look him in the eyes, and the softest, the gentle, loving, adoration in his gaze.

Your worries vanish like fog burning away on a summer morning.

“I’m not very good at this.” You warn, smiling sheepishly up at him as he begins to sway you, a grin on his lips.

You’re closer than you’ve ever been. Your free arm is thrown around his neck lazily, and you could melt into his embrace.

He leans down, whispering in your ear, his minty breath fanning over your neck. “I don’t mind.”

You smile when you hear him, laughing sweetly when he continues to dance with you. There’s a few people watching. You and Derek have become a topic of conversation around the hospital ever since he started pursuing you so strongly.

So, pretty much since your first day.

Neither of you seem to mind, to engrossed in each other to care. He hasn’t stopped looking at you this whole night. You’re always stunning, he usually can’t keep his eyes off you when you’re just in your scrubs.

But tonight?

You look like an angel came down to earth.

Derek lifts your arm above your head quickly and spins you, smiling brightly when the sound of your bubbly laughter reaches his ears.

It’s the best thing he’s ever heard.

When he pulls you back in your pressed close to him, touching his chest with yours, staring up into his cerulean eyes. Your breathe mingles as he looks down to you, his gaze flickering to your lips as he does.

Everything else feels like it just disappears. The only thing that matters, the only thing in your world, is the man standing in front of you.

You curse yourself for waiting so long. For always being so damn good. For not letting yourself have this sooner.

Have him sooner.

Every single time he asked you out, you wanted to say yes. But you didn’t, you were too focused on everything you shouldn’t have been.

Colleagues.

Expectations.

Assumptions.

Everything but him.

And now?

You’re done.

So when he leans forward, when his lips brush yours. You close your eyes and let him kiss you, and it makes your knees weak. It rips the air out of your lungs.

It flips your world upside down.

You could have repeated this moment forever and been happy.

You move against him, kissing back, running your hands through his hair. His hands slip further down your waist, coming to rest on the small of your back.

Your forced to pull away as you begin to run out of air, gasping a bit as you do. You press your forehead to Derek’s, smiling widely.

He pulls you in closer, and you bring your head to rest in the crook of his neck, and he sways you back and forth, abandoning any efforts of actually trying to dance.

“You got me.” You whisper, and you feel laughter rumbling in his chest when he hears you.

After all this time, all of the asking, all the flirting, everything.

You let go.

Let go of your worries.

And grabbed on to him.

And you are never, ever, letting go.

A/N: Soooo this is short and kinda cheesy ngl, but I hope y’all liked it.

edit: guys stop glazing we all know this doesn’t deserve over 600 likes

- di <3

#fanfic #fanfic writer #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #greys anatomy #derek shepherd #derek shepherd x reader #derek shepherd x you #derek shepherd x y/n #derek shepherd x yn #self insert #self insert fanfiction #fluff #confession

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crmsnmth · 1 month ago

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Last Call

She grabs me by my shirt and pulls me closer with a smile that was nothing but trouble Her lips taste like cigarettes cheap whiskey and a whole lot of bad decisions It's last call and that dark corner by the bathrooms becomes our cat and mouse game I'll let her win I always let her win

Hands through hair who needs a comb she takes the tangles out with expert grip The night's still young even as everyone leaves the bar some to go nowhere, some to go home Not us We'll go anywhere but

She leads me down the sidewalk laughing, grinning, giggling so loud that we wake every block up And neither of us care because the world is just us when we get to move like mountains Seismic moves made in bedroom droves We'll fuck on the bathroom floor again damned be the room mates with curious ears

She calls my name and I call hers Hurry up and we can still get a pizza and watch a few episodes of ghost adventures because there's nothing funnier then bros getting scared

Shared cigarette on the blanket balcony No one can see us up here so we get our exhibitionist on Some call it disgusting and some call it a thrill just carry on now, we can't stop here

And now we make it the bed for the first time of the night and we're back biting each other Leaving love wounds all over Let me be you scarring canvas and I'll keep your skin so smooth

C'mon, show me what you got

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lady-phasma · 6 months ago

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Armand x Benji x Sybelle x gn!reader (vampire reader)

No warnings or summary other than this is really, really fluffy. 1.2k words of the fluffiest fluff.

a/n: aged up Benji to about 25 before he was turned because I think the show would do that if they include him, Sybelle was around 25 when she was turned.

Sybelle’s fingers flew lightly over the piano keys. You loved listening to her play, especially while reading. You could read faster as a vampire, but sometimes you enjoyed reading slowly and savoring the experience. Sybelle had recently been composing her own music, rarely writing it down, often improvising. Tonight’s music seemed heavily influenced by Max Richter and was lively yet somehow somber.

She was playing something slower now, mellow. The city lights flickering through the windows and the night sky through the skylight created an ethereal, disconnected atmosphere. You turned the page of your book. Soft footsteps approached and you looked up to see Armand. He sat down on the sofa after you pulled your feet up to make room for him.

“Everything okay?” you asked, placing your finger in your book as you closed it, holding your spot.

Armand didn’t answer, just watched Sybelle. His fingers slid against each other, the only outward sign that his thoughts were overwhelming tonight. You looked away from him to snag your bookmark from the arm of the couch. You dropped your book on the floor and turned to rest your back against the arm.

“Hey. You.” Armand turned to look at you. “Come’ere,” you patted the pillow you had placed in your lap. Years with this group had given you the ability to bypass unnecessary words. You knew from previous experience with Armand that he would decline an offer, but would likely accept an invitation if you seemed to not give him an option, not exactly an order.

He moved slowly, not like a vampire at all. He lay on his side between your legs, one of which was curled under the pillow, the other leaning against the back of the couch behind Armand.

He gracefully tucked one hand under his head and laid the other on your thigh. A human could not have heard the sigh he let out, but you did. Sybelle may have as well, but it was a nearly silent sound. Very gently, almost cautiously, you moved his hair back from his face and traced his ear with your fingertips. His eyes closed as he let himself focus on your touch. You stroked his hair and sent soothing, non-verbal thoughts to him telepathically as he laid perfectly still.

Benji came into the room, shoes clicking lightly as he walked across the hardwood. He kissed Sybelle on the top of her head before walking over to where you sat on the sofa with Armand.

“What’s up kiddo?” Benji pressed a lovely kiss to the top of your head as well.

“Not much old man.” You glanced up at him, no less enamored with his beautiful face than the first time you met. You saw him every night, yet Benji remained one of the most unsettlingly gorgeous people in your sphere. His round, youthful features looked so out of place against his vampiric presence. Damn near unsettling and very sexy.

“How was the podcast?” You were genuinely interested. You loved listening to every episode even if the topic wasn’t always new to you.

“It went well,” he answered as he placed his fedora upside down on the coffee table and sat next to Armand’s feet. “A shorter episode than normal, but Lestat and the ancients have been behaving recently, so…” his voice trailed off as he looked at us. “It seems all the excitement is in this living room anyway.” He smiled and stroked Armand’s shin.

“I’m the life of the party,” you smiled back at him. You gently ran your hand down Armand’s shoulder, resting it on his bicep. “I’ll feed before dawn, but I wanted a chill night in tonight.” You glanced down at Armand’s head in your lap and then back to Benji, catching his gaze. “We all needed some down time, but we’re fine.”

He smiled gently again and shifted at his end of the couch. Armand moved his feet next to Benji’s thigh and Benji rested his hand on one calf.

You made quite the tableau: Armand curled on his side, between your legs, his head in your lap, both of you in comfortable clothing, Benji sitting comparatively stiffly in his suit vest, shirt, and slacks.

“You know,” Sybelle’s voice rose just above the volume of her music. “I think we may need a larger sofa.” She giggled and the sound was as musical as the piano. She finished the last few notes of the song and turned to face the three of you.

“I do feel ever so left out!” Her tone was sweet and jovial.

“Pile on, sis!” Benji laughed as he spoke. Sybelle glided across to you, but instead of ‘piling on’ she knelt in front of Armand and placed her arms on the cushion. She tilted her head and laid it on her forearms. Their faces were mere centimeters apart and the gaze they shared was almost as intimate as if they were speaking telepathically. A tiny smile lifted the corner of Armand’s mouth. Perhaps something had passed between them.

Sybelle slid one hand out and interlaced her fingers with Armand’s on your thigh. You stroked the top of her head then let your hand rest back of the arm of the couch. Benji moved his hand from Armand’s leg to yours, absently rubbing circles on your pants with his thumb. You didn’t look up from watching Sybelle and Armand when you heard Benji’s voice in your mind.

What’s wrong? he asked.

He didn’t say. He came in like this, you answered. You gently smoothed Armand’s hair back. Sybelle looked up at you, her face full of kindness.

“I have an idea,” she beamed up at you as she spoke. “Come. All of you.” She popped up from where she knelt. You looked over at Benji and smiled. He returned your look of bemusement and love. Sybelle was sweet and slightly peculiar.

You watched Benji stand and extend his hand to him. Armand sat up and took Benji’s hand in one movement. They followed Sybelle out of the living room. You rose and followed as well. The four of you went into the bedroom, Sybelle nearly floating, Benji holding Armand’s hand.

The bed was a king size and swamped with pillows. Sybelle tossed a few on the floor. She grabbed Armand’s free hand and led him to the bed. As she did so she kissed his cheek. You stood next to Benji while they lay down. Benji guided you forward with his hand on your back. You slipped onto the bed, facing Armand, while Benji stepped out of his shoes and laid down behind you.

Armand looked at you with large, grateful eyes and you snaked your forearm between his arms and interlaced your fingers with his. He held your arm against his chest. Your knees touched gently. Sybelle wrapped her arm Armand’s waist and snuggled close behind him. Benji reached over you, laying his arm on you and his hand on Armand’s bicep. This wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last time you all piled into this bed, but it was one of the more chaste times.

Armand still hadn’t spoken. His face was softer now, his shoulders less tense. He closed his eyes and relished being in your arms, surrounded by his family.

Masterlist

#armand x reader #armand x gn!reader #x inclusive!reader #iwtv #amc iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire #the vampire armand #the vampire sybelle #benji mahmoud #benjamin mahmoud #the vampire chronicles #iwtv fic #benji x reader #sybelle x reader #armand x benji x sybelle #Armand fluff #assad zaman

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weirdbeancurd · 2 months ago

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Flash Flood Under My Bed- Chapter 1

A Poolverine Fanfic

Thank you guys for being so patient, and sorry it took so long haha. Also gonna tag @icarusredwings (hopefully im not bothering you, but I love your writing and thought you might enjoy)

@thecuntcakeweveallbeenwaitingfor it's finally here yaaaay

Ao3

Logan’s done this whole song and dance before. He knows the melody by heart, the hopeless hope, the enticing push and pull of “will they, won’t they.”

And time and time again, he falls victim to their alluring display; a moth to a flame. Died, abandoned, betrayed- it didn’t matter. At the end of the day, he stood alone. The only thing he could always count on for company was the bottle.

“Love” is just a fantasy which preys on the naive, he learns. Logan on the other hand, is perfectly happy (a gross exaggeration) bar hopping ‘til the damn sun explodes.

Then Wade-motherfucking-Wilson waltzes into his life, squeezes past his carefully built walls, and makes himself at home in his heart. This ain’t so bad, he mumbles, half-asleep on the couch, watching tonight’s 6th episode of Jeopardy. Wade’s passed out on his right, and Logan can’t resist tracing his scars with wandering eyes, taking in every little detail as if he could vanish at a moment’s notice. He sees past his brash nature, his poorly timed quips, and his inability to take anything seriously- because Wade is so much more than mouth. Hidden behind a convincing veil of dick jokes and sass, he cares, probably more than Logan deserves.

Love emanates from the way Wade arranges the cabinets for Althea- everything within reach, complete with braille labels. It doesn't stop them from bickering like children, but the sentiment is there. And it's not just Al that gets VIP treatment. A thoughtful gesture here, a subtle reminder there, and Logan feels his core bloom with warmth. The man starts getting handsy with him (in a wholesome, platonic way), noticing how he craves touch without ever voicing it. Their knees brushing together on the couch makes him feel things he can't describe. He tries anyway.

Adoration, perhaps? No, that can't be right. He's spent so much time alone; he's forgotten what that feels like.

You're just jealous that Wade’s a better man than you'll ever be, he decides.

So Wade himself isn’t a problem, far from it. Though he gets his nerves, Logan begrudgingly admits that he considers Wade-motherfucking-Wilson to be his one and only friend. Now there’s his problem.

The last time he gave friendship a chance, it didn't end well. In fact, it went fucking awful.

He took out his sorrows on the innocent, slaughtering anyone in his way, and in turn, slaughtering any hope of human and mutant coexistence. The X-Men had worked on building their reputation for years, decades even. Some campaigns were beginning to take off, gaining loyal supporters, few as they were. But Logan threw it all to the wind. They gave him food, shelter, love, a purpose; and how did he repay them? He ruined their life’s work in a single night, irreparably tainted the image of mutants across the globe just because he couldn't handle his own damn grief. He retires his suit. A cloak and scythe would fit him better.

His mere presence is a deadly premonition; he destroys everything he touches, death following in his footsteps, wilting the once green grass. He is salt to the earth: an everlasting threat to life itself. No flora grows in his presence, no friend can live through his innate ability to bring about devastation. So it’s better this way, Logan tells himself. He repeats it, like a prayer. It's better this way.

No one is safe, not if they're with him.

He tries kicking his friend to the metaphorical curb, keeping him at arm's length. Turns out, Wade’s a persistent little bastard. No matter how much he insults, ignores and stabs him, he just keeps coming back. Claims he's like “William Afton,” whoever the hell that is. And god, it’s a dick move, he knows. Wade welcomed him with open arms, saw Logan at his absolute lowest and still said, yes, I want that one. It's everything he's ever wanted-

But happy endings have always been a delusion of his.

The Wolverine does not believe himself to be a smart man. A skilled fighter, sure. Stubborn as a mule? Absolutely- but never smart. It's a uniquely cruel fate to have loved and lost, in a world where there is so little love given to people like him. If Logan Howlett was a smart man, he’d take the fucking hint instead of falling for the same old ploy over and over. Whenever he meets someone and feels that terrifying spark of chemistry, he senses danger approaching like an oncoming storm. The air pressure drops, the sky turns red, the clouds loom over his shoulders like a threat. Every instinct is yelling at him to run, take shelter and wait it out. And when rain finally strikes the earth, the thunder is gunshots in his ears, screaming I told you so, you idiot. I told you so.

Like he said in the time ripper, the merc will still have his “world in a photograph;” a world that will keep on turning with or without Logan- because he was never a part of it in the first place. Leaving it behind should be easy.

Or it would be if Wade would stop draping himself over his shoulders every time he sits down for breakfast. It's near impossible to ignore him when he's making morning coffee look like a scene from The Notebook, but Logan can't say he minds. It doesn't mean he won't complain about it, though.

“Wade.”

“Mhm?”

“Get the fuck off’a me.”

“No can do, sugartits.”

Asshole, he thinks, leaning into the touch. Wade rests his head atop his, and Logan shivers when his morning voice rumbles through him.

“Soooo, I was thinking-”

“Congratulations.”

“Oh, ha ha,” the merc removes his arms from his shoulders. Logan mourns their loss. “I was thinking about taking another job. A killy-killy-stabby one, of course.”

The gruff man doesn't spare a glance as he raises the mug to his lips.

“And why did you feel like this was something you needed to tell me?” It's not like this is news to him; Wade’s mercenary income is the main reason they aren't living on the streets. He won't let them forget it either, going on and on about being the “breadwinner” of the household. He once referred to Logan as his “caring house wife,” and received three surprise piercings as a result.

“Well, this one's a two man job. Gotta scout out a sketchy abandoned building, but they want someone to go with me to cover more ground. What do you say, peanut?”

That…actually sounds like a pretty good time. Logan's job search has been uneventful so far (getting hired with zero government paperwork is a bitch), and he's been getting kind of antsy cooped up in the apartment all day. Plus, Wade's making those stupid puppy dog eyes at him.

“Pleeeease? We get to kill anyone we find inside!”

“...Fine. When is it?”

There’s a suspiciously long bout of silence.

“Wade. When. Is it.”

Said man is looking anywhere but his face, darting his eyes around until he rolls them shut with a sigh.

“It's, uh. It's in an hour.”

“The fuck you mean it's in an hour!?”

“I-ugh! I forgot, okay! I was gonna ask you yesterday, but you fell asleep on the couch at nine, Rip Van Winkle!”

“I'm two hundred years old, you- you know what, fuck you.”

“...”

“...Does that mean you're coming?”

“...I’ll be ready in ten.”

“Wooo, baby! I knew you'd pull through for me, my sweet mustelid-matey! I could kiss you right now-”

“Don't.”

“Alright.”

He flees to his room, towards the cabinet tucked in the corner. It's covered in a fine layer of dust. He takes the time to brush it off despite the rush they're in, running his fingers over a crack in the wood before sliding it open. Inside lies his suit and cowl, still here after all these years. After most of it was destroyed by the time ripper, he was understandably distraught. Logan thought he hid it well, but Wade must've seen the longing within his walled-off self and decided to take action. A week later, he presented Logan with the suit. It looked exactly like the day he’d first received it, seams clean cut, colors bright as they are ridiculous; he never thought he’d be so happy to see the damn thing again. Apparently the rat bastard knows how to sew. And apparently, the only way to get him to shut up is to be bear hugged by the one and only Wolverine. Neither mention Logan’s misty eyes when they part.

He shakes himself out of his trance, there’s no time to dwell. Emotional constipation wins this round- but only because he’s got a mission to complete. Logan tucks the suit under his arm.

“Wade?!” He calls over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“How long’s the drive gonna take?”

“Maybe…an hour?”

Oh for fucks sake.

The ride over is mostly uneventful. Despite Wade’s overly-enthusiastic air guitar getting on his nerves, minimal blood was shed during the hour-long trip. Key word: minimal. While singing along to a love song on the radio, Wade had tenderly jokingly rested his hand atop Logan's, startling him and nearly causing him to crash the damn car in the ensuing one-armed slap fight. Unsurprisingly, the man with three steak knives down each sleeve won.

All in all, a successful journey.

The given address turns out to be an abandoned hospital, a splendid place for two men with fucked up medical trauma to be.

“Huddle up, Wolvie. We gotta discuss our game plan. Says right here that we should split up, but…”

They eye the building with apprehension, neither making a move. It feels like minutes before Wade speaks again.

“You know what? I think it’d be a great idea to explore together. For a thorough search, of course.”

“...Yeah. Lets.”

The two enter through the not-so-automatic doors and pass the front desk. Logan immediately recoils at the smell; the scent of rubbing alcohol seems entertwined with the very soul of this place. The inside’s surprisingly intact, like the staff up and left one night and never came back. Empty syringes peek beneath tissues in the trash, betrayed by the sinister glint of their needles. PSA posters line the halls, preaching the benefits of hand washing though there are none left to hear it. Even the hospital beds are in place, a layer of dust blanketing the sheets. All that’s missing are the patients. Their absence is striking; it almost makes him miss the annoying drone of a dozen heart monitors if only to smother the silence. Every step feeds into his paranoia, and Logan's not alone on the matter. Unease is written in the way Wade keeps making unsubtle glances at him. When Logan asks if he’s alright, the merc answers with a question.

“Pfff, why wouldn’t I be? I’m so alright. Like, unbelievably alright, right now.”

“...Let’s just get a move on.”

Logan sticks even closer to him after that. Thorough. That’s all he’s being.

It isn't entirely clear what they're supposed to be searching for. Something about intel on a trafficking ring? The request was too vague for his liking, but hey, it pays well. Yet after twenty minutes of slogging through empty rooms with zero leads, Logan is thoroughly bored out of his mind. Likewise, Wade “ADHD Incarnate” Wilson is practically vibrating with pent up energy. He can't help but notice the lack of people to beat up, and Wade says as much.

“Okay, this place is a major snooze fest. And here I was, thinking we’d get to make some minced meat confetti.” He brightens momentarily. “Oh, oooh! I know what we should do-”

“No.”

“-we should play 21 questions!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, I’ll go first! Alright, let's see…”

Logan groans, but the distraction couldn’t have come at a better time, because he’s starting to suspect Wade's catching on to his odd behavior. The man’s got a knack for sniffing out his friends' problems; like a bloodhound, but for daddy issues. Noble as that is, Logan prefers to wallow in misery by his lonesome, thank you very much.

“Oh, I got one! How about this,” the souring of tone makes his heart drop.

“The fuck’s been up with you lately? Don't think I haven't seen the way you've been avoiding everyone- like the time you snuck out of Laura’s birthday party? Or what about the fact you’ve been ‘too busy’ to join game night five weeks in a row? You’re not even trying to hide it!”

God-fucking-dammit.

“I don't know what you mean.” He tries keeping his voice steady, but it comes out more as a growl.

“Do you?” Wade tries getting his attention by tugging on his shoulder, only to be violently shrugged off. He takes it in stride, not even pausing his speech. “Because it seems like you know exactly what I mean.”

“Wade, drop it.”

“No, I don't think I will, actually! Because every time I try to peek into your fucked up little mind, you push me away. You're starting to hurt my precious feelings.”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo.”

“Look, sweetcakes. Honeymuffin. Light of my life, subject of my wettest dreams; I care about you. You know that…right?” His tone teeters on the edge of concern.

“...I can't imagine why you would.”

In the silence that follows, he senses that he might've said the wrong thing.

“Logan. Look at me.”

He scoffs, if only to hide his growing discomfort.

“Wha-no. Wade, I am not a goddamn child. I don’t need you to baby me like-”

“Don’t you dare give me that. I'll stop treating you like a child when you stop acting like one. This talk’s long overdue, mister.”

“Just leave me alone, dipshit. God, is this why you wanted me to come along? So you could interrogate me? Fuck off.”

“No, dumbass, it's because I genuinely enjoy your company!! Is that so hard to believe?!” Wade takes a deep breath, holds it, and exhales.

“I get it,” Logan loudly disagrees, but Wade plows through. “Your brain’s being an asshole and won't let you enjoy basic shit. Been there, done that. So whatever those mean thoughts are saying in your head? Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, I’ve never heard anything more wrong in my life.”

The “mean thoughts” protest at this, trying every trick under the sun to convince Logan otherwise.

You're a murderer, they say.

“‘But Wade,’ you might be saying. ‘I’m an irredeemable monster!’ Uh, no, shut up. Newsflash asshole, we all fuck up sometimes. Move on and be better. Hell, you already have. At the very least, I haven’t seen you drink actual, fucking rubbing alcohol for a hot minute.”

You'll get him killed, it's only a matter of time, they insist.

“And I swear to god, if you tell me you're ‘fine,’ I will shove you into a meat grinder, and not the fun kind of meat grinder. Everyone needs some TLC, even grumpy old men like you. Your healing journey will be full of the tenderest of care, and I’m gonna be there every step of the way to make it happen. I hate to break it to you, Wolvie, but you’re stuck with me now. I’m like a wart. I’ll grow on ya, and I’m not leaving without a fight.”

Gentleness isn't in your nature, you beast.

“I can't say my merry gang can ever replace all you've lost, but we love you just the same,” his voice pleading. “Come on, peanut. Talk to me. Whatever it is, I’ll listen. I can even get Yukio to make us friendship bracelets. Doesn't get more official than that.”

Logan is struck silent. Under the many layers of self doubt and the war raging in his mind, a new voice wonders-

Would it really be so bad to just let go?

If there's one thing Wades good at, it's eating away at Logan's resolve.

He slips off his mask to flash a modest smile.

“You gotta forgive yourself, peanut. Because they would absolutely forgive you.”

His breath hitches sharply, cutting through the silence.

Would they really?

He wants nothing more but to melt into the comforting embrace he’s offered, to collapse and let someone else take the reins for once. Fat tears threaten to roll down his cheeks. The sobs are fighting their way up his throat and he knows it's only a matter of time before he breaks. Perhaps he can shatter, just this once, and-

Two hands grasp his shoulders in what is meant to be a friendly gesture, but his mind interprets it as anything but. Animalistic terror surges through his body. Deep in thought, he failed to notice Wade approaching. Suddenly, it's a hundred years ago, he's fighting a war he can barely remember, and an enemy is trying to drown him in a river. His stomach feels like it's eating itself and his entire body aches; being on your feet for four days straight will do that to you. The man presses down on his shoulders, dunking his head below the freezing rapids. In his weakness, they gain the upper hand, and Logan gasps for air. He finds none, instead met with water rushing to his lungs. It's cold, too cold. There's frantic splashing, and he can't breathe, and his throat filling with liquid, and so he lashes out-

“Aghh!”

A cry of pain thrusts him back into reality.

“W-Wade?” He blinks. There is no enemy, no river, no war. Just Wade, pinned to the ground by his claws through his throat. He gurgles, grabbing at his wrists to pry him off. Logan feels like he's drowning again.

He forces his hands to work, retracting his claws and immediately putting pressure on the wound- just as the army taught him.

“Wade! S-shit. I'm sorry, I’m so sorry. I wasn't- I didn't mean it, I swear, please don't-”

The man pushes him away, cradling his neck with one hand. He holds up a single finger with the other, as if asking Logan to wait. Wade eventually makes a noise that sounds like an asthmatic frog and sits up.

“Ugh! God. You got me good there, tiger. As I was saying,” he blanches at the shell-shocked expression on Logan's face.

“Woah, hey heyheyhey! Hold on, Wolvie, it was an accident! I know you didn't mean it, honey badger,” he holds up his hands, palms facing outward like he's placating a wild animal. “Look- see?” He gestures to his throat. “Good as new, no harm done! I’m fine, really.”

But it’s not fine. He’s done it again; once with Marie, and now with Wade. One of these days, he’s going to actually kill someone he loves (I already have, he thinks).

The question is not if, but when. How long until history repeats itself?

“No, no, I can’t. I-I can’t do this. Not again,” Logan gasps.

He tugs on his hair, trying to ground himself. The air’s too thin; he can't breathe. He tries sheathing and unsheathing his claws, but that only reminds him of the carnage he's committed. Wade’s saying something; he doesn't hear what.

“Just go away. Just go!” And then it dawns on him; if he leaves, Wade will follow. The dumbass can’t recognize a lost cause when he sees one. Logan needs to prove how utterly repulsive he is, needs to show him that he isn’t worth the effort. The words that leave his mouth feel like retching up shards of glass.

“I…I never wanted to be a part of your freak show, anyways.”

Wade straightens.

“You don’t mean that.”

He doesn't. God, he doesn't.

“I do. And you know what? I should’ve stayed in my own damn universe and drank my sorrows away. At least then I wouldn’t have to listen to your sorry ass- at least then I wouldn’t have had the misfortune of meeting you! Seriously, do you ever shut the fuck up?”

Logan basks in the fire he spits, imagining he’s talking to the mirror, because Wade doesn’t deserve it, and because he doesn’t deserve Wade. Hostility is an old friend of his. He falls back on its familiarity, revels in its security. How could he have hoped for this to end any differently? I told you so, you idiot, I told you so.

“It’s a miracle your friends haven't left your ass behind. But just you wait, bub. Just you fucking wait. You’ll end up alone again, because of your frankly insufferable personality- and because it's what you fucking deserve! So for the sake of everyone around you, I pray they find a cure for immortality.”

He decides he hates the unstoppable force that is Wade-motherfucking-Wilson. He hates Wade’s selflessness, he hates how easy it is to relate to him, he hates his stupid fucking smile- and he absolutely despises how Wade believes in second chances.

“-So just, just stay the fuck away from me, dammit!”

Logan barely registers he’s been backing towards the door, unconsciously trying to leave. It’s become a habit.

The second he steps into the next room, the door slams shut.

“Wh-”

Logan stares as Wade presses himself up to the glass portion, frantically jiggling the handle. He ultimately gives up on that approach and reaches for his katanas, but a metal plate erupts from the floor and seals him off. It's a total lockdown- they’ve been separated.

“Wade? Wade?!” Only his echo responds.

He unsheaths his claws to brute-force his way in. Each strike is accompanied by the hellish sound of metal on metal, but he’s barely made a dent despite his best efforts. Adamantium, he mutters. Fuckers must've reinforced it with the shit.

Logan suspects an ambush, immediately confirmed by the not-so subtle chatter of about a dozen guards huddled by the room’s only exit. One of them tosses a black disk through the doorway. Whatever it is, it's not a grenade, and it's too far away to do any real damage if it did go off. Attention straying from the strange device, he stretches his senses to listen for their approach. They’re quiet for the most part, save for someone fiddling with a controller of sorts. Odd, he has time to think, right before his head explodes with agony.

His sensitive hearing is assaulted by electric screeching. It hurts, and boy, is it loud. It feels like steak knives are being shoved down his ear canals, and he can’t help but slam his hands over them, folding at the waist. Logan yelps when the sound intensifies. Sharp pain pricks his neck and he snaps his attention to the source. While he was distracted, a man dressed from head to toe in tactical gear rushed him, wielding a sharp-looking rifle that he cocks to shoot again. The noise isn’t affecting him; either those helmets are noise-canceling, or humans can’t hear this frequency. To the detriment of his eardrums, Logan pries his own hands away from his head to sidestep the shot and launch himself at his attacker. His head screams with pain even as his body sings with satisfaction at the kill, blades skewering the other man. He has no time to gather his bearings, a dozen more men storming the room.

The mutant shreds through a couple, squinting in pain, before he spots the source of that awful screeching. The innocent disk he once ignored lies on the ground, LED flashing radioactive green. Bingo. Logan grabs a rifle from the next agent he kills, chucking it (with a little more force than necessary) at the device. It shatters upon impact, drawing a sigh of relief. The torment over, he stabs one man through the heart, using his body as a projectile to knock out another. The action throws him unexpectedly off balance. Huh. Logan brushes the thought aside, whipping around to grapple with an agent who'd almost gotten the jump on him. He shoves them back, the other reaching for their gun, and actually manages to pistol whip the wolverine. Must be getting rusty, he thinks, returning the gesture with a friendly impaling.

By the time he’s mauled his way through eleven guards, he realizes all too late that something’s very wrong. His breathing is labored, posture slumped. A couple of the men got some pretty good hits on him, for god's sake. The last one standing proves to be particularly hard to take down, not because he's a skilled combatant, no, but because the room won't stop fucking spinning. He’s struggling to keep his claws extended, so he opts for the less dignified approach. The Wolverine grips his opponent's shoulders and tears out their jugular with bloodied teeth, winning him the fight. Needless to say, Logan doesn't exactly feel like a winner right now.

He nearly collapses before their body hits the floor, steadying himself on a lab bench. He’s taking in as much air as his lungs can handle, greedily, like a drowning man. Feeling a strange stiffness in his neck, he reaches for the source- and pulls out… a syringe? His nausea thickens, barely able to keep both knees from buckling. He turns the item between shaking fingers. The barrel is short, containing a brightly colored serum that's nearly depleted. On one end is a neon-yellow tuft of downy. Fuck. He wasn't shot with a gun; he’s been shot with a tranquilizer gun.

Logan grunts and chucks it somewhere. Whatever that stuff was, its creator accounted for their victim having a heightened metabolism. He's being targeted. Double fuck.

It’s a battle to keep his eyes open, using the wall to take most of his weight as he stumbles along. It occurs to him that he has no idea where he’s headed. Higher brain function has officially left the building.

Eventually the drugs run their course and he crumples, tipping onto the tile with a metallic clunk.

The next moments are but a blur in his mind. It could’ve been seconds or days; both seem just as likely in his delirious state. Logan feels himself being dragged across the tile, blinking his eyes open to a different scene each time. At first, he’s on the floor. Then he’s staring at the ceiling. Next, he’s being hauled up. If he was coherent, he’d pity the poor soul trying to lift his five-hundred pound adamantium-infused dumbass up the stairs, but he doesn't feel capable of anything but groaning at the moment. His brain feels like jello. He hates jello. It’s too sweet, and the cold hurts his teeth, and- what was he talking about again? Oh, right. He’s being kidnapped or something.

The man awakens to the chilling sensation of cold steel pressed against his bare back. He recognizes it instantly; he’s laying on an operation table. His mind flickers through dozens of encounters with needles and scalpels, gloved hands poking and prodding him like a science experiment. Logan tries to yank at his unrestrained limbs, but it’s as if they’re deadbolted to the table. The sedative must still be in full effect. It sure feels like it- his mind is full of static and the air is thick like tar.

His eyes frantically search for an exit, but he can barely lift his head. The corners of the room appear shrouded in darkness, like an unnerving vignette. He lets his head fall back onto the table with a loud clang. Ow. That did not help his headache.

A flash of white consumes his vision. Now that really didn't help his headache. Fluorescent lights bore into his skull, piercing his eyelids. He can barely make out the silhouettes of faces hovering over him, squinting at the man in front. His vision is just beginning to focus when he’s grabbed roughly by the jaw. There are hands on him; his wrist, his chest, his face, everywhere. He only manages a flinch, muscles hardly putting up a fight. The gloved digits turn his head with smooth, practiced motion, but pay no heed to his discomfort, forcing his neck at odd angles. It takes a moment for him to spot the man’s face mask and put two and two together: he’s being inspected.

His heart races at the thought, and the scientist catches the way Logan’s eyes widen. He starts his observations, not caring if his assistant can keep up with his rapid-fire remarks.

“Healing factor is greatly reduced. Pupils are reactive to light. Subject appears semi-lucid, but its movement is still severely impaired by the injection.”

It. They called him an it.

“F-Fuck off.”

“Ah. So it speaks.”

He gives a defiant grunt.

“How succinct. I’d expect nothing less from a dirty animal.” Logan bares his teeth, showing off his impressive canines. In hindsight, that probably didn’t do much to dispel the “dirty animal” allegations. The man rolls his eyes, turning to his paperwork.

“Subject displays signs of aggression. Reprogramming may be necessary.”

The word makes him freeze. The Wolverine’s been robbed of enough memories to know the process well.

He tries to control his trembling, but his weakness betrays him.

The doctor looks absolutely delighted at his reaction.

“Oohoh. So the beast can feel fear!” He goads. “And here I thought you were just an emotionless killer.”

“Look, bub. I don't know what you want, but you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“Oh no, I know exactly who I'm talking to. Murderer.”

“I didn't do shi-” He jumps when they slam their hands on the operating table, fists landing inches from his head.

“I know your kind. Violent, uncontrollable, dangerous- every one of you.”

“...We’re not like that.” and then a smaller, quieter, “I-I’m not like that.”

He scoffs, a stiff grin holding back his frustrations like a dam.

“And that’s where you’re wrong. Turns out your kind is stupid, too.”

“Well, what have we ever done to you?”

The dam breaks.

“What have mutants done? You-you things killed my FUCKING brother!” His eyes are full of emotion, nothing like the distant, well-spoken professional he awoke to. Anguish churns in his gut, hatred oozes through his clenched teeth.

“We were colleagues, working on a project we'd dreamed of for years. It would've revolutionized the pharmaceutical industry. We would’ve been set for life. But then one of you mutant freaks escaped containment. That bastard could breathe fire. It burned him to the fucking ground.”

Logan feels sick. He remembers the smell of burnt flesh, remembers how it stuck with him.

“He was my best friend, practically family. And I watched him scream out my name before he took his final, soot-filled, dying breath!” He gets up in Logan's face, shoving a shaking finger at him.

“I grew up with that man. I was in the room when his first son was born. And I was the one who had to tell his child that his father is dead.”

Logan bites his tongue. He feels like a kid again, who knows the best chance at avoiding his old man’s wrath is to shut the hell up.

They settle after a bit, taking a moment to breathe and adjust their glasses.

“...I appear to have lost my composure. Apologies, I didn't mean to stoop to your level.” Nevermind, fuck this guy. Time to poke the bear.

“What's your brother’s level, huh? Six feet under?” It was a low blow, but Logan still revels in the snarl it evokes. And then his scowl grows into a grin. Cold fear washes over him. Logan has the feeling he's going to regret ever opening his mouth.

“You know, word around the block is that you’re not from here.”

He knows where this is going. He tries to turn his head away but jumps when the doctor grabs his chin and yanks it back. The hand lingers, grasping his jaw firm enough to bruise.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Logan stubbornly avoids his eyes. The mutant flinches when he reveals a familiar instrument: a scalpel. He doesn't have time to ponder its significance before the doctor plunges it into his thigh. Now, he’d be the first to tell you that his pain tolerance is pretty high. It’s got to be, when you’ve been fighting tooth and nail for over two centuries. But this, this is a whole different beast. There's something about the artificial light flooding his vision, the iron grip on his chin and the chilling steel of the operating table that unsettles him to his very core. While he doubts the drug cocktail is helping, the real kicker is the horrors of his own mind- those, he can’t escape.

The terror of past procedures makes itself known through shaking hands and muscles taut like tightrope. The sedative limits his movement like a set of leather straps, and he panics when his limbs don’t feel like his own. It’s an assault on the senses, amplifying them to the point where even the smallest touch burns like he's being branded with a red-hot iron. It feels too much like adamantium flooding his body. Logan barely holds back a whimper, nearly biting off his tongue when the pain claws up his thigh.

It’s all too much and there's no end in sight. Who knows if Wade is even looking for him.

“I said, look at me when I’m talking to you, brute.”

He does as he’s told.

“Good. As I was saying, you have quite the reputation back home.”

Shut up shut up shutupshutup-

“It’s a long story, I’m sure you remember. My intel was frustratingly vague, but If I'm not mistaken, you fled to a bar, tail between your legs, and came back to a massacre. They burned everyone you ever loved to the ground.” His voice is rife with sadistic glee.

“Good riddance, I say; the only good mutant is a dead mutant. Really, I should be thanking you for aiding in their demise.”

Logan feels himself slipping into the past, trying to resist the pull, but he knows it's futile. The carnage is fresh in his mind, forever etched under his eyelids.

Bodies of students he recognizes but never got to know beyond a name lie at his feet (God, they were just kids). There’s too many to count, too many to mourn. A blanket of silver catches his eye and he rushes to turn them over. Logan recoils at the sight of Ororo, lifeless and pale. He ducks down to hold her close; flames lick his ankles but he couldn't care less. He goes through body after body, one by one, begging, pleading that this’ll be the last, but the deaths keep piling up. Jean, Jubilee, Hank, Scott, Charles. He never thought he'd see the day where Kurt manages to sit still for two seconds. Gone are his high energy shenanigans, his animated personality snuffed out for good. Logan searches the acrobat’s eyes for answers, praying the gymnast would spring to life and say gotcha, mein freund! You should’ve seen the look on your face! He wishes this was all just a joke. It'd be the world's worst joke, but he’ll take anything over this.

He wonders if he’ll ever smell brimstone again.

Logan counts the dead. And again, and then a third time, hoping that maybe someone escaped. After his fourth time doing the rounds, his face contorts with a devastated sob and he falls to his knees. Fate is cruel to have left him the last one standing. He tries swiping at his eyes, but his gloves are slick with blood, and fuck, there’s so much blood, there’s just so much fucking blood.

How fitting, for it to be on his hands.

He cries and cries until the moon deserts him too. The sun rears its ugly head, and Logan stares right at the center in hope of blinding himself (because all he sees is them, cold and dead). It peeks over the horizon as his voice finally starts to give out. Screams fade to whimpers.

It’s hard to believe that the bustling school is now ruin and rubble; it was supposed to be a safe haven for people like him. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Once a sanctuary, reduced to nothing but tinder.

And oh, how it burns.

Logan is yanked back to the present by the scalpel ripped out of his thigh. He gasps, feeling his throat pinch. Air struggles to reach his lungs, ears deaf to whatever his captor’s asking him. Playing along with the doctor’s little game of “21 questions” isn't really his priority at the moment; not that they care.

“Were you even listening?”

He grabs a fistful of his subject's hair and tugs, hard, baring his neck. His breath catches when the scalpel lowers dangerously close, making him go cross-eyed as he watches its deadly approach. Logan resists the overwhelming urge to squeeze his eyes shut, keeping them glued to the blade's edge. His vision blurs with tears. The doctor huffs, loosening his grip just a little.

“Fine. Ignore me if you want, your memories will be rewritten regardless. But really, think about it,” His eyes snap open at the voice suddenly inches from his ear, hairs standing on end. “-this is for your own good. Hell, it’s for the greater good. You’ve done enough damage.”

Part of Logan wants to enthusiastically agree, wants to be put down like a mad dog who can't be homed. He wants to forget all the pain and suffering that he's inflicted and have been inflicted upon; let surrendering to erasure be the one good thing he ever does in his long, miserable life. And yet, he can't help but think of happier times: when the sound of children fades into comforting white noise, or the familiar, gentle prodding of a telepath silently asking to explore his mind. He’d quirk a smile at the friendly banter he shared with his team- no, his family. He thinks of Jubilee's luminous smile and Charles's kind words, and that he doesn't want to forget. And Wade, oh Wade. The merc built him back up, an impressive feat, considering he only had rock bottom to work with. Logan would tell him how grateful he is, but he only knows so many words. He wants to be able to remember the time they spent together, however short.

Being wiped clean would keep everyone he loves safe, but God, if he isn't a selfish man. He always has been.

In one last desperate act of defiance, he snaps his teeth at the doctor's fingers. Of course, the sedative makes him miss by a mile, his attack far too slow to catch them skin-in-teeth.

They wrench back their hand, scowling hard. He palms Logan's forehead with a gloved hand, grabs a fistful of hair at his scalp, pulls forward, and slams his head back on the operating table. He feels his teeth clack together, the blow reverberating throughout his skull. The room tilts as his agony blossoms, and he thinks he hears someone cry out- possibly himself. In his disorientation, Logan barely registers the syringe that creeps into sight.

“Down, boy. Wouldn’t want you thrashing about during the procedure.”

He feels his head being tilted to the side, but his muscles are null to stop it. The shit they jabbed him with had to be potent stuff, because he can’t even tell which way is up. They flick the syringe twice before positioning it above a vein on his neck.

His eyes flutter shut. He finds himself thinking of Wade in what could very possibly be his last moments alive, mourning a friendship that will never get the chance to flourish. This is what he gets for hoping. Hope is a dangerous thing, and so is Logan.

Whatever the devil's got in store for me, he thinks, I’ll accept with open arms.

Bam.

He’s robbed of his fate by Wade kicking down the door, very bloody katanas hand in hand. The guards immediately train their guns on him. The doctor withdraws, attention stolen by Wade’s appearance. Shoulders hunched, breathing ragged, he looks ready to tear someone apart. Judging from the blood, he probably already has. Logan sometimes forgets Wade was, and still is a deadly mercenary (how scary can a guy who makes three sex jokes a sentence possibly be?), yet he certainly fits the part now, stalking his way to the center of the room.

“Alright fuckers. You’ve messed with the wrong dynamic duo.”

His tone foregoes its usual breezy, devil-may-care attitude, the dangerous rasp in his voice sending shivers down Logan's spine.

“But lucky for you lot, I’m feeling generous today. I bestow upon each of yooouu- a once in a lifetime opportunity to meet your maker!” Wade spins his blades with deadly flourish, flicking blood in their direction. He narrows his eyes. “So you assholes better say your prayers-”

“-’cause I ain’t accepting apologies.”

Feel free to leave comments or tags telling me what you think! I love feedback and chatting about my writing lol

#poolverine #deadclaws #deadpool and wolverine #whump #creative writing #angst #hurt/comfort

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