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stsgooo · 5 months

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Haunted.

✩࿐ summary: geto had suffered enough, why should he let you go too?

warning(s): suicidal thoughts/idealizations, death, poor coping mechanisms, gn!reader, depression, isolation, description of violence, angst no comfort, curse!reader, cult leader geto things, character study vibes, not proofread (sorry). wc; 15.7k

pairing(s): geto suguru/reader, geto suguru/gojo satoru/reader (briefly), geto suguru/gojo satoru

a/n: hii, been a while since i’ve written an x reader fic so hope this abides by everyone’s standards :) as i finished this, i realized that this probably should've been multiple parts because of how long it is, but it was too far gone at that point. anyway, i hope you enjoy and if you don't i would rather not hear about it!

available to read on ao3. | divider 1

I. 2005

SUGURU WAS SURE YOU HAD A DEATH WISH.

Out of everyone, it seemed as if you had some crazy switch in you that just flipped during a battle. It was as if you got tunnel vision and your every move was erratic, death the only option. It did not matter to you whether you lived or died. Saving others was your main and only goal. That scared him to death.

You were powerful. Powerful enough where you didn’t need to go all out on every curse that even hinted at having some type of power over you or others. Yet you always found yourself in Shoko’s room, sporting one cut too many, and a bright grin as if you weren’t pushing the limit. You would wave away any and all concern with that smile.

I’m just fine, you would roll your eyes at their worry. Really, you guys, stop fussing so much.

Suguru had argued with you about it before. Both of you had been sent on a mission to some elementary school, few kids had gone missing. You found the curse, and the kids, and a fight ensued. It was nothing crazy. Not until you practically served yourself on a platter for the curse and told Suguru to run away with the kids. Of course, he didn’t leave. What kind of friend would he be if he just let you die? What kind of sorcerer would he be if he just ran away while you were torn limb by limb? He’d be a failure of a sorcerer and a failure of a friend.

It bothered him. It enraged him how easily you threw your life away for others. A hint of danger and you were willing to get yourself killed over it. The complete disregard for your life in the first year that you all knew each other irked his very soul. Your behavior was worrisome. It confused him.

The buildup to his fight with you was a lot to unpack in itself.

The car ride from the hospital the kids were at was silent. Filled with a tension that unsettled his heart and he was sure unsettled your mind. You made no attempt at small talk or passing a good job, it was just silent. He silently thanked you for it. Because he was sure if you spoke then, he would’ve blown up. He would’ve said horrible things. So he silently thanked you for your silence, your silent allowance to let him think. You even fell asleep and Suguru couldn’t help but ask himself how you could sleep so soundly after such a close brush with death.

Three days later, he could tell Satoru and Shoko noticed the tension.

He knew they noticed it the moment you two returned. Your clothes soiled, face covered in mud and blood, hands all too shaky. Maybe it was the way you walked away from his side to great them. Or it was probably the way he glared at the wavering smile on your lips as you told them everything went fine. It was most definitely that.

Shoko was weary of it. At lunch, she’d sit between him and you. Her words were light as she teased and prodded, but never dared to ask the serious questions. She kept the air free of the awkwardness or the anger brewing. Shoko was kind like that. She was optimistic.

Satoru, however, wasn’t.

Although he seemed to abide by the silent rule not to ask you questions, he was practically grilling Suguru any given moment. He asked what happened. Why was Suguru so angry? Why were you acting so standoff-ish? Had something finally happened between you? Did Suguru get rejected and was he throwing himself a pity party? There were so many things that he threw out into the open like it was silly. As if Satoru derived some entertainment from the tension.

Do you ever notice they’re ready to get themselves killed for others? Suguru had thrown out to Satoru a week after the mission.

Satoru’s eyes lost the amusement and his smile dimmed. He pushed his glasses further up his nose. Of course I have. His voice was ridiculously serious and slow, extremely distant. As if recalling something he pushed to the back of his mind often. His attention had cut back to Suguru and shook his head. Man, it’s best to leave this alone. Trust me. Sensei will say something soon enough.

Suguru couldn’t help but worry that their first year teacher’s talk wouldn’t come soon enough.

Things just didn’t make sense to him. He just didn’t understand why you would be so willing to throw yourself into death like it was a blanket on a cold night. Sure, they’re meant to save people, but it didn’t mean death. Not everything had to be final. He feared that you just didn’t know it.

All of it came to a head when all four of you were placed on a mission three weeks after.

At this point, it was apparent that you both were avoiding each other. Different topics that neither of you wanted to address made headway into your dynamic. Distanced you both from one another like it was a bubble. A shield protecting you both from uncomfortable and frankly angry conversations.

But you did it again.

Sure, this time the curse was too much. Things weren’t looking too great for them. But the moment Suguru noticed you were missing from his and Satoru’s side, he felt panicked. He knew what was coming and knew what you’d say.

You caught the curse off guard as you jumped from the top banister, your large hammer at the ready. You shouted something along the lines that they should get out of there. But Suguru nor Satoru dared to run away. He watched, in horror, as you vanished into the curse’s mouth. As he was ready to summon his small arsenal of cursed spirits, the thing was cut from the stomach. Then you got its head.

There was silence as you stood amongst the carnage. Covered in the things purple goopy blood. Then you turned to them with that smile and Suguru lost it.

“What’s wrong with you?” He yelled, his voice echoing off the walls and converging on you. You looked shocked, eyebrows raised and faltering away from the pride to the confusion. He took in a shaky breath as he felt the built up anger from the past three weeks finally come up. “Do you have to throw yourself into danger like that?”

You frowned at him, then pathetically gestured at the curse. “It’s dead, isn’t it?”

Suguru pressed his hands against his face, letting out a deeply annoyed groan. “That’s not the point! The point is you threw yourself into its mouth! Like it was nothing!” He pushed himself forward to at least close the distance a little. Despite hearing Satoru’s soft protest, he needed to look you in the eye.

Your irritation was apparent as you furrowed your brow. “It doesn’t matter! Seriously, what’s your issue lately? You’ve been a complete asshole since that mission we went on. I thought you were just feeling bad for those kids, but you’ve acted completely different towards me!” Suguru could only clench his jaw at your obliviousness. There’s no way, right? There was absolutely no way you didn’t see what you were doing to them. To him. But when you said your next words, that thought was out the window. “Okay, so I threw myself into the middle of things, but so what?”

So what? So what. So fucking what?

Suguru felt something deep within him snap. As if there was a car underwater and the glass that was keeping the passengers safe suddenly cracked. His emotions, his clear mind, were the victims of the drowning. Buried deep under your ignorance.

“So what?” He snapped, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as he regarded you with unsettled rage. “So what? Are you serious? Like, are you dumb or are you just playing with me because I seriously can’t tell right now!”

You flinched at his tone and he could hear the shift of rubble behind him. “Suguru, hey—“ Satoru tried to de-escalate the situation but he was ignored.

“Excuse me?” You uttered, glaring up at him.

“Whenever we go on missions, you’re the first one throwing yourself at the thing like it isn’t serious. As if there’s not a high possibility that you’ll die! Every single time.” Suguru had a finger against your chest now. He wasn’t even sure when he had reached out, but he could feel the curse’s blood on his fingertip. It was cold and thick. Uncomfortable. But you were covered in it like it was nothing. Everything was nothing to you. “So, I’m asking you: are you dumb or just acting like you are?”

Your eyes were narrowed as you regarded him. “I know it’s dangerous, but sometimes that’s the only option.” Was all you had to say in response.

“You shouldn’t be the first one to die every time!” Suguru was desperate for his point to get across. For you to understand that it wasn’t the matter that it was dangerous— it was the fact that you were so willing and ready to have everyone live without you.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” You frowned.

Just understand I care. That if you were to die right in front of my eyes, I’d lose it. I’ve only known you for ten months, but I can’t imagine a world where you’re dead. You’re one of my best friends— the first friend I ever made, please don’t make me live longer than you. Were all the selfish things that Suguru wanted to say. That he should’ve said.

Instead, he asked, “Do you just want to die?”

There was a very long silence that kept them all from moving.

The question was posed and he could see it in your eyes. Could hear it in the words you didn’t speak. You looked away from him, shame settled on your face. Suddenly, you looked small compared to your usual large and boisterous self. Have you always been this small? Or was this something he was just realizing now?

It settled in his mind, suddenly, that he was right. His assumptions, rash and brazen, were right.

It made him queasy, lightheaded, as he stared at you.

“Y/N…” He uttered with a pale face. He desperately wanted to reach out, to grasp your shoulder— make some type of contact. But his limbs wouldn’t move. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing or blinking. His mind just repeated the one fact he knew over and over.

You wanted to die. You didn’t care if you died out there, alone, because it was all the same to you. You were waiting for death as it was waiting for you. Like an old friend. You wanted to die.

Suguru felt the overwhelming urge to cry as it all settled. “You want to die?” He couldn’t help the whisper as he stared at you in horror.

Your cheeks were a deep crimson red, tears pooling in your eyes as you took a step back from him. “It-It’s not like that.”

Suguru slowly shook his head. “Y-Yo—“ You shouldn’t feel like that. Is what he wanted to say. But what good would that do? You knew that. You probably prayed you didn’t every day.

“I just— you guys are so important to the school and-and to me! If you guys died, they’d be scrambling and a lot of people would probably suffer. But if I died, then who would even care—?”

“I would!” Suguru couldn’t help the tears that collected in his eyes. Here he was, almost 16, crying in front of you. But he needed you to know he cared. That life wouldn’t be the same without you gracing it. He reached forward, grabbing your hands in a vice like grip. “I would care! If you died I would be miserable and I would miss you like crazy. Don’t say no one would care because, if it doesn’t matter that I care, then everyone would. You’re important to everyone. You matter.”

Your eyes were on him now, wide and unsteady as you regarded him with confusion and disbelief. “Suguru—“

“We would all care. Satoru would be so annoying without your stupid quips. Shoko would be miserable if there wasn’t anyone to get her cigarettes when she forgets. And I…I would lose it if you were dead. I would. I would lose my mind, I’d do something crazy like… like leave everything behind.” It felt wrong to say. To put such weight on you, but he needed to know the role you played. How important you are. He clenched his jaw in determination, eye contact unwavering as he squeezed your hands. “I’ll prove it to you. I swear on it. I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving it to you.”

“Better than anything I could say.” He heard Satoru utter behind them, then the tell tale yelp that came after Shoko slapped him upside the head.

You didn’t let that distract you as you fell forward into his arms. Clutching at his uniform as you let out a small cry. He held you up and listened as you dumped years worth of pain into his chest. Suguru couldn’t ever recall seeing you like this before. He never really wanted to see it again. You didn’t say anything in response to his rather embarrassing ramble to you. No, not to that.

Instead, all you said in return was, “thank you.”

II. 2006

Suguru was in love with you and Satoru.

He realized it the afternoon in Okinawa, all of you walking through the aquarium as Riko pointed out various fish that she knew too much information about. Of course, he wasn’t listening. He was much too focused on you and Satoru. The both of you had snuck away to a gift shop— proclaiming that you needed mementoes and souvenirs for your friends back home. You adorned an octopus hat while Satoru had various fish stickers pressed to his cheeks. You both more resembled children on a field trip than highly esteemed sorcerers.

Suguru loved it. He loved you both.

It was a sudden and rather scary realization.

It came over him as you placed another sticker on Satoru's face. The both of you releasing absurd laughs that had no business sounding so lovely. He could feel the small smile blossom on his own lips as Satoru argued that he'd have the "gooey stuff" all of his face later, which made you promise to help him clean it off with a rag. Then you placed a delicate kiss against his cheek. It was so nonchalant, something they should all be used to, but it was always so jarring. Satoru stared at you with wide eyes behind his glasses, then he grinned. Wide and devious.

Suguru's heart soared.

He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to grab both of you and kiss you like there was no tomorrow. To promise his heart and his life to you both. It would be easy. It would be mere second nature to him. Suguru may just be realizing how deeply he loved you and Satoru, but he was almost sure that he'd felt this way since month five of your first year.

Surely, it shouldn't be a surprise. You three had been getting bold lately. Shoko was even commenting on it. The late nights in your room, the both of them curled up at your side. The domesticity of one of you returning to your dorm and being greeted by the other two. You all had a routine. A promise to come back through the door and have another fight of arguing over what's for dinner. Or something obscure that he wouldn't put up with with anyone else.

He just wanted to tell you and Satoru that he finally feels normal in the world. With you both by his side. That when he has your skin pressed against his, he feels like he could take on the world. That Satoru makes him feel childish and free like he couldn't be when he was a kid. That his kisses were sweet and soft. He just wanted to tell you that he loved you.

But Suguru saw your eyes stray away from Satoru's and the smile faded away. "We have to give her a choice." You said suddenly.

Both Satoru and Suguru moved their attention to Riko. The girl was standing in front of a expansive tank, watching in amazement as the fish zoomed by. The girl unaware of their watchful eyes as she turned to Kuroi and asked her to enjoy the fish too.

Suguru and Satoru had acknowledged that you were probably the last person who should be on this mission almost immediately. It wasn't that you weren't well fit for it, or that you would be too detached, or not want to get involved— it was that you had warmed up to Riko immediately. The girl had become your shadow. She asked about your technique and how "two idiots" like them were able to be in your presence. She amused you and you amused her. Then she asked you what you thought about her merger and you told her you thought it was something you shouldn't get involved in.

But Suguru and Satoru saw it in your eyes. They knew what you thought the moment Yaga had said the word "erase".

You wanted to save her.

"I knew you'd say that." Satoru snorted, leaning back against the tank they stood before. His eyes rolled upwards to look at the dolphin swim pass across from them. "You're always meddling."

You glared at him. "I don't meddle!"

"You do." Satoru said fondly. "What did I say, Suguru? They'd meet the girl and meddle, right?"

You snapped your eyes to Suguru who shyly stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging. "You did say that." I did not. Suguru used kinder words— like you cared about Riko and you'd probably not want to see her throw away her barely lived life for Tengen-sama.

You pouted, picking at the railing next to Satoru. "Am I that predictable?"

"Only because we know you so well." Satoru teased with a small smile. Then his eyes cut back to Riko who was gradually making her way further down the area. As much as Satoru would deny it, Suguru could tell that he'd come to grow fond of the girl as well. "What do you propose we do, exactly?"

Now Suguru was looking back to you. He could see the shock in your eyes as they snapped up to Satoru— as if you couldn't believe he was playing into whatever ideas you were tossing around. There was a spark of hope in your eyes and Suguru had to look away to prevent the smile that wanted to spread across his face. Instead, he'd let his heart do that weird skip it usually did whenever you and Satoru were particularly adorable.

"All I want is for her to have a choice," Your voice was compassionate as you started. The look in your eyes distant as you turned your attention towards the small tank in front of you three. The portioned tank that had different beta fishes separated. Together they're deadly. Apart, they find peace. Riko had explained. "The way she's talked about everything... the merger with Tengen-sama— that's what she was born for. She's proud of it. But given the choice, she wanted to spend her last day with her friends. She wanted to go to school and hang out with them because she knew she'd never see them again. Instead of really wanting to do this, she's just doing it because she feels like she has to. Where's the freedom in that?"

Suguru smiled softly at you. "So we give her a choice." He agreed with a small nod, finding satisfaction with the brightness in your eyes.

"We'll have to fight Tengen, you know that?" Satoru kept his eyes steady on Riko as he questioned the two of you. Both of you blink, obviously not having considered that detail. "They'll put up a fight— probably other sorcerers too. Freeing Riko might mean we leave Jujutsu High."

Suguru let his mind wander. Would he really mind if the three of you left? Not really. If the three of you have to fight Tengen-sama, then he'd gladly fight them by your side. If you both wanted, he'd destroy the world. Then gladly live his final moments with you both at his side. That was a fact that he knew to be true in his soul.

"I'll gladly do so." You answered without hesitation. Of course you would, you self sacrificial fool. A bitter part of Suguru said. There was no question that you'd put your life on the line for Riko. "If her choice is to live life, then I'll fight Tengen."

"And you'll win?" Satoru asked.

You raised an eyebrow. "We're the strongest, aren't we? Us three?"

Something about your words made Suguru 100% sure that he wouldn't allow you both to walk alone in the world. Together, there wasn't anything you three couldn't take on.

Satoru finally turned from Riko to stare at you with a self assured smirk.

Oh, Suguru thought with a stutter in his heart. He'd already made up his mind before you did.

"Well, well! I thought you were above all that we're the strongest crap!" Satoru teased, throwing his arm around your shoulders as you rolled your eyes. "Don't be so entitled, Satoru. You're making Haibara and Nanami feel less than, Satoru. You sound ignorant, Satoru. Look who's high and mighty now!"

"Oh, stop!" You pushed his arm away, but your smile was fond. You turned back to the beta fish. "Sure, it's a little entitled, but right now, I'm being nice."

"Thank you, thank you, my beloved royalty." Satoru dramatically bowed before you. You uttered something about him being dramatic, which went ignored. The white haired sorcerer reached over and slapped Suguru's arm, peeking at him fondly from behind his glasses. "Suguru, bow for your deity!"

Suguru was about to decline, until you spoke up. "You're ridiculous, you know that? Don't do that." Suddenly, he felt inclined to follow suit.

Both of them were now bowed behind you, uttering their dramatic praises as you blushed, attempting to ignore them as people walked pass and stared. Suguru peeked up at you as you watched the beta fish swim around. In that moment, he prayed that nothing changed.

Things weren't right.

Things weren't right but you were so calm.

Silently, Suguru could only shoot a thankful glance in your direction as the elevator creaked under the strain of four people. He could tell you were worried but your expression was determined to stay pieced together. Satoru was above ground, fighting against that man— Suguru couldn't think about it. It was too much in the mess of things.

The elevator came to a screeching halt and there was no hesitation on your part to push the doors open. You seemed quicker, your movements a little stilted as you exited the elevator and, instead of looking at the three behind you, you kept your gaze on the various entrances. He could tell you were irritated. He could tell you were worried. Or nervous.

No, you were scared.

His attention turned towards Riko and Kuroi who were exchanging a heartfelt, tearful goodbye. They clutched onto each other— Kuroi told her to be brave and Riko promised she would. Then they separated and Suguru promised that he'd come back once everything was done to escort Kuroi to safety.

The trek to the Star Corridor was long and quite.

There wasn't much Suguru could say to comfort you because there wasn't much he could reassure himself with. His worries for Satoru were overbearing in his mind and he couldn't try and fool himself into trying to bear the weight of your anxiety as well. Both of you knew this, so you didn't dare try to comfort one another.

There's nothing wrong. Everything's going to be okay. We're the strongest. Satoru will join us once this is over. Were the things Suguru soothed himself with.

"Is this...?" Riko uttered as they finally broke through to the outskirts of where Tengen homes themself.

"Yes," Suguru confirmed as he came to a stop beside the younger girl. "We're just outside of where Master Tengen resides. This is the country's base for primary barriers. The main hall of the tombs of the Star Corridor."

"Basically, it's their home." You said flatly, coming to Riko's other side, your eyes moving over the vast area. It was quiet, dark, and looked isolated. Nothing that brought any welcomeness for the eternity to come.

Suguru tried not to let his gaze linger on the woeful look painting your face now. He cleared his throat and pointed. "Go down the stairs and pass the gate. Then head toward the base of that huge tree. It's protected by a different barrier than the one around Jujutsu High. Only those invited may enter. You'll be protected by Master Tengen until the merger."

Riko's expression turned sorrowful as she followed the path Suguru paved with her eyes. This was the end. Her fun and the little life she lived was at its finish. She clenched her hands at her sides and made a move to continue forward, without them.

"Or we can turn back and go home to Kuroi."

Riko's eyes snapped to you. Your eyes were compassionate and a small smile graced your features that was more reassuring than any words that could be spoken. She looked a little pale, but the glow of hope suddenly appeared.

"What?" The girl uttered.

You turned to her fully, keep your expression soft. "When our taecher assigned us this mission, he used the word 'erase'. It's like, deep down, he knew something was wrong with this and, for a muscle guy, he doesn't usually beat around the bush." You looked like you wanted to chuckle at your own jab at Yaga, but didn't have the energy. Instead, you sighed. "I talked to Suguru and Satoru and we all came to the decision that if the kid who is the Star Plasma Vessel should refuse the merger then we call it off."

Riko's eyes widened even further and tears were on the cusp of falling as she stared at the both of you.

"We're the strongest," Suguru offered gently, offering a closed eyed smile to the girl. "No matter what you choose, we promise to protect your future."

Riko's lips quivered as her eyes bounced between you two and the vast nothingness of Tengen's home. She took in a shaky breath. "Ever since I was born, I've been told I'm special and different. Being special was normal for me. I've survived till now by staying away from danger... My parents died in a car crash. I don't remember it. I'm not say or lonely anymore." She started to fiddle with her hands as her words grew more unsteady. You moved to press against her side, hands rested against her shoulders. "That's why... with the merger, I thought I'd be okay... leaving everyone. No matter how painful it became, I believed that, some day, the sadness and loneliness would disappear."

"You just need the right person." You uttered to her, her eyes snapping up at you as tears silently streamed down her face. "You need that one person to prove that there's beautiful things out there— that there's kindness and love. I know. I understand, Riko."

The girl bursts into tears, a trail of snot ran from her nose as she shook with her cries. "I want to stay with everyone a bit longer!" Her voice seemed to echo around the two of you. "I want to go to more places and see more things with everyone! More!"

Both you and Suguru smiled softly. His hand reached out while you squeezed her shoulders. "Riko, let's go home." He beckoned her forward.

"Yeah!"

Suguru registered the shot last second, but it was too late for him to truly do anything.

He's never quite seen anything like it.

You were smiling, you looked free from your worries for one second.

Then you were falling. Your face slack and eyes blank. You fell against the ground with a deafening thud. Blood pooled around your head, chunks of your brain scattered across the ground. Your eyes.

They're so blank.

Suguru barely registered Riko's scream. His eyes couldn't leave you even as the girl screamed and screamed, hands clutching at her head as she stared at your body beside her.

You were just speaking a moment ago. You were smiling. How could this happen?

Your eyes are so blank.

"Y-Y/N...." Suguru uttered, eyes wide and face pale.

He felt sick. He didn't feel right. This wasn't right. Why were you on the ground? Why were you bleeding? Why can't he move? Why can't he breathe? Are you going to get up? Please get up.

Riko continued to scream. She just wouldn't stop. Her once hopeful eyes were now reduced to horror and terror as she smeared the blood covering the side of her face. None of it hers.

It's yours.

Your eyes are blank.

What are you doing? Get up. Get up. Smile. Just breathe. Get up. Please, I'll do anything. I'll listen to you ramble about those books you love so much. I'll buy you those disgusting snacks you crave. I'll do anything for you.

Please don't die.

Your eyes are blank.

"Oh," groaned a voice that rattled Suguru's soul. "I missed."

Suguru slowly turned his head to stare at the man. The one that had stabbed Satoru through the chest and had talked to him like an old friend. The one that was now standing, clutching a gun in his hand, pouting as if he was amused by his miscalculation.

As if your death was something he hadn't accounted for.

"How..." Suguru's voice doesn't feel like his own. It feels like he's out of body. As if something else is controlling him. He felt something warm on his cheek, but he couldn't reach for it. His limbs felt heavy, his hands cold. What was happening? Why did everything feel so muddled? "How'd you get here?"

Still, Riko screamed.

Still, your eyes were blank.

The man frowned. "How...?" Suddenly, he chuckled and pressed the side of the gun to his temple. "I see. I killed Gojo Satoru."

Suguru was swarmed with an unfamiliar feeling of rage. You and Satoru had once praised him for his ability to remain calm and level headed when things seemed to crumbled around all of you. He was the voice of reason— your moral compass. The map that lightened your way.

Suddenly, he felt like he was reduced to nothing but rage and this empty feeling in his chest.

Your eyes are blank.

Gojo Satoru is dead.

"I see..." Suguru growled, his eyes unmoved from the man across from him. "Then die!"

III. 2007

Suguru didn't feel right.

Although, he hadn't felt right for 11 months. 47 weeks, and five days. 8,016 hours. 480,960 minutes. 28,857,600 seconds.

He hadn't been right since the moment you dropped dead.

Your eyes were blank.

He wasn't enough to fight against Fushiguro Toji. The man had ruthlessly downed him then killed Riko. It was like it was nothing. He came, he killed, then he left.

Suguru had laid amongst the rubble of Toji's doing and stared into your blank eyes. He still wasn't sure how long it was. He couldn't move and he could barely breathe as the blood from his chest trickled to the stone and concrete under him. Your eyes stared lifelessly into his own. Endlessly. A never-ending staring contest that he pleaded to end.

The entire time he laid on the floor of Tengen's barrier. His mind only repeated one thing.

Please get up. Please be alive. Please get up. Please get up.

Your brains had scattered across the floor and your eyes were unmoving but he spent so much time just pleading with you to snap out of it. He thought he was enough. He apologized for not being enough.

Please get up. I promised to prove it to you.

There was a point he passed out. He could remember thinking, thankfully, that he was going to die. And he swore he heard your gurgled call for him.

Then, he woke up.

Shoko had looked distraught. He could still remember the way she eyed him wearily through red rimmed eyes. Cautious as she told him that you were dead. As she told him Satoru was gone.

Gone. But not dead.

Suguru had, very briefly, rejoiced in Satoru's survival.

Shoko said she cleaned your blood off his cheek.

Suguru hated her for a while after that.

He didn't stay at the infirmary for long. Despite Shoko telling him that Yaga wanted to see him and that he shouldn't move around yet, he dragged himself away. He dragged himself to the cult. He dragged himself along the side walk with his mind flashing with images of your blank eyes.

Was that all death was? Nothingness? Did it comfort you? Did it welcome you? Was it everything you imagined?

His mind wouldn't rest.

He could remember as he entered the building. As he heard the resounding and endless applause. He mindlessly entered and was meant with a never-ending crowd, parting as they just clapped, and clapped, and clapped. It rumbled through his ears, bouncing around his brain.

Your eyes were blank.

When the crowd parted, he remembered the clench of his heart as Satoru, bloodied and blank, appeared. He carried Riko's body in his arms. Lifelessly moving forward. His eyes stared right through Suguru.

"You're late," Satoru had teased blankly. His voice distant and flat. It missed its usual punch. "No.... I guess your're early."

Suguru remembered the confusion that washed over him as he stared at the one he loved. "Satoru... is that you...?"

What happened to you?

"It looks like you saw Shoko." Satoru had sounded like he wasn't entirely aware of his surroundings. Or he didn't care. "Is Y/N there right now?"

Suguru didn't have the heart then. He could remember silently apologizing to you, but he hadn't thought Satoru could handle the news of your death amongst this room.

"Shoko fixed me up fine." His eyes had moved to Riko's limp hand and he felt sick. Her screams were still in his mind. He almost threw up. "I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who messed up. Don't worry about it." Satoru had easily deflected.

Suguru couldn't handle the clapping. They just didn't stop. They clapped, and clapped, and clapped.

Your eyes were blank.

"Suguru," Satoru's voice had stopped him in his tracks. His voice was so detached and so odd. Suguru couldn't handle much change then. He couldn't handle hearing Satoru so different. Not then. "Do you want to kill them all?"

Suguru could remember the shock that shook his body. Could remember the bitterness that immediately followed. The realization that he would love nothing more than to unleash the worst on these people and sum their deaths up as their lives— useless.

"Suguru," He had sworn he heard your voice, distorted and all too sweet. His back stiffened and his eyes widened. "Do you hate them, Suguru?"

He did. He hated them. He wanted them all to burn. He wanted them to suffer. Suguru would've loved nothing more than to have heard all of them plead for their lives. To have the same terror that Riko had when she realized her life was coming to an end. To have that same blank look in their eyes as you had.

Your eyes were blank.

"It's pointless." Suguru had shot down emotionless. He still wasn't sure if he was answering that tiny voice in his head or Satoru, maybe it was both. Who really cared?

"Pointless, huh?" Satoru walked past Suguru and started to make his way outside. "Does there need to be a reason?"

"Of course, it's important." Suguru had easily answered. "Especially as Jujutsu Sorcerers."

11 months. 47 weeks, and five days. 8,016 hours. 480,960 minutes. 28,857,600 seconds later, he believed that was all bullshit.

It surprised him how much and how little could change in a year.

The way everyone seemingly returned to normal and he was left in the past.

Suguru felt like his life was now segregated into two sections: Before the Star Plasma Vessel assignment and after the Star Plasma Vessel assignment. Before and after you.

He realized, quickly and bitterly, that the after you was worse than the before.

Before he knew of your existence, he was happy to be alone. He embraced the fact that kids at school thought him odd, unapproachable. That they would whisper about his habits behind his back. He was happy to know that no one wanted to be around him. It meant they didn't see what he saw. He didn't know anything else.

But the after you was considerably worse.

You had given him that breath of fresh air. That love that he had unknowingly reached out for his entire life. The way you and Satoru had touched him, he didn't even know his heart ached for that type of love. He didn't know he was depraved until you showed him.

He hated it. For a moment, he hated you.

In the first weeks after your death, he felt angry. He was bitter. Even as Satoru rubbed his back in bed. Even as he told Suguru it wasn't his fault. Even as everyone told him that you would hate to see him like that. He felt a hatred. A regret.

For months, he hated you.

He'd ignore topics centered around you. He ignored the day that Shoko and Satoru cleaned out your dorm for a new first year. He was stagnant and blank at the funeral your family held. When everyone walked up to recall memories about you, he didn't. He just listened and he thought that none of them truly captured you. They said you were kind, that you were funny, that you went our of your way to help whoever needed it.

If it was Suguru up there, he would've said you were selfish. That you always put your life on the line when it wasn't needed. That you were arrogant. That you could really make him worry.

But he loved you.

That's what he hated most. Isn't that the worst?

He hated that he loved the way he missed your hugs, your reassurances. He hated that he missed worrying about you. That he wouldn't ever see you again. That he wouldn't join you on a mission and be forced to listen to Yaga or fellow students worry about your sanity. He missed that sometimes you would play into Satoru's words, like saying the three of you were strongest together.

"Hey," Satoru called from across the training yard. Suguru barely looked up. "Have you lost some weight? Are you okay?"

Satoru became "The Strongest". His abilities were starting to blossom and it allowed him to work by himself. The higher-ups sent them alone. And Suguru hadn't felt more confined in his life.

"I'm just a little tired from the summer heat." Suguru easily explained it away, his hands buried deep within his pockets. "It's not a problem."

"Maybe you had too much somen noodles?" Satoru asked, niavely.

"No," Suguru wanted to snap at him. "It's the fact I can't eat without feeling sick. I can't taste anything except the fucking vomit of the curses. I hate it. I hate it. I'm always sick. I'm so hungry. But I can't eat."

Instead, he sighed. "Maybe."

The curse population was springing up like maggots. Everywhere and all consuming. The summer had been busy and Suguru truly was tired. In his heart, he started to blame the mess of last year for the increase of curses. It was easier to blame that than nothing. It was better to put a face to his suffering rather than blame himself.

The repetitiveness of his life was becoming crushing.

An endless cycle of exorcism and consumption.

Exorcise. Consume.

You had once asked him what curses tasted like. Under a beautiful tree and a beautiful night sky. You stared at him from your place on the ground. "Suguru, what does it taste like?"

"It's a taste nobody knows." He had explained. "Like ingesting a rag used to wipe up vomit."

Exorcise. Consume.

"Oh," You had uttered, a heavy frown on your lips as you pondered on it. "I'm sorry."

Exorcise. Consume.

He didn't need your pity then. But it had been nice. It felt nice for someone to pretend they understand the disgust, the bitter tang. He pretended that it helped.

"Thanks."

Then, you asked, "Would it help if you had mints?"

No. "Yes."

That first Christmas you all spent together, you got him mints. And, despite it doing nothing, he still popped one in his mouth every time. False hope that something could push down the disgust he had for his technique, for what he was considered special for. What lengths he went to save people.

For what?

Every since that day, the day you and Riko died, it's been running through Suguru's head. That everything he saw, Toji, your blood, your brains, the never-ending applause of the cult members— it was a hideous evil known to everyone. What he saw wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Still, knowing that, he protects them as a Jujutsu sorcerer.

"We can't lose our way." You had reassured one day when the curse you and him were fighting was particularly ruthless. It had killed so many people that the both of you hadn't been the same for weeks. "Don't lose your way. We just have to follow through with our duty as sorcerers."

The thunderous applause took over that of his heart.

"Monkeys." Suguru uttered in the shower. The first time he whispered it. His eyes unmoving from the wall as the water trickled down, down, and down.

Your eyes were blank.

"Do you hate them, Suguru?"

His hand clenched above him. "Fucking monkeys."

He snapped the water off and robotically dried himself off.

Suguru felt like he was merely living through the motions. That he was being guided other peoples words and the wind itself. He was merely a leaf being blown away. There wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Nothing he could do to ground himself and force himself to take the wheel. To be in control. He could only watch on.

He found himself hunched over on the bench near the vending machines. He barely acknowledged the rain that poured outside. It was one of those days. Those days where the weather matched his mood and made it considerably worse. Maybe he could get away with hiding inside his dorm. Being curled on the bed and not appearing until the rain was well gone— when Satoru couldn't ask him if he's ate.

He closed his eyes in defeat. How could loneliness possibly feel worse now than it did then? He'd been alone for years before. Why was it worse now?

"Hi! Mister Geto!"

Suguru's eyes snapped open and dragged upwards. "Haibara..."

You liked Haibara. You said so on his first day. When he enthusiastically introduced himself to everyone— gave his blood type and his family history. You had laughed for twenty minuets. You said that Haibara was like a breath of fresh air. He had no idea what he was getting into and he was happy. Suguru said you were looking into it too much. You didn't agree. Then you invited both him and Nanami to join you all on a trip to Shinjuku.

You liked Haibara. He was sweet.

You liked Haibara. So did Suguru.

"Hope all is well!" Haibara continued, seemingly ignorant to the war raging on in Suguru's mind.

You liked Haibara. You trained him. He was sweet.

So did Suguru. "What can I get you to drink?" Suguru asked, pulling some change from his pockets.

"I couldn't possibly—" Haibara's eyes glanced at the vending machine then his eyes brightened. "I'll take a coke!"

Suguru couldn't help the little laugh that broke through his lips. Amusement in his eyes for the first time in a while as he gently dropped the change into the junior's cupped palm. Haibara pratically skipped over to the vending machine, dropping the coins in, and retrieved his coke.

Fully expecting him to carry on with a thanks, Suguru was a little surprised that he sat down beside him and smiled big.

"My mission tomorrow is pretty far away." The boy started, wiggling with excitement.

Suguru smiled softly. "That so? I'll be expecting a souvenir then."

"You got it! Something sweet or savory?"

"Satoru will probably have some too, so maybe something sweet."

This was the normal. It felt refreshing for everything to be so normal. A silent agreement amongst the second and third years to get everyone who asked a souvenir from their respective mission areas. It made for interesting foods or items. Silly things that he could place on his shelf or for him to take a bite and Satoru to steal the rest. Usually complaining about how no one ever gets him anything. Just like Okinawa when you picked that hat—

Your eyes were empty.

Suguru's smile faded away.

"Haibara..." He spoke, not entirely aware if his junior was speaking before he was. But Haibara's eyes moved to him with curiosity. He bowed his head once again. "Are you okay with being a Jujutsu sorcerer? Doesn't it bother you?"

Immediately, the junior took the question seriously. His chin rested between his finger and thumb, eyes narrowed in thought. "Hm... good question..." He uttered, a vague pout on his lips. "I'm not really the type to think too hard about things..."

"I don't think we should underestimate Haibara or Nanami." You had defended the two new boys against Satoru's beratement one day. Your eyes cut to where they were practicing against Yaga's cursed dolls. "We all started somewhere. I'm sure they'll surprise us one day."

"Giving my all toward something I know I can help with is a great feeling!" Haibara finally answered, snapping his fingers and looking at Suguru head on.

Suguru couldn't help the way his eyes widened. For whatever reason, his answered shocked him. It was a pure answer. Further proof that Suguru was different from everyone else. Proved that he was slowly losing a part of himself. Haibara hadn't been graced with the same tragedy he had. He didn't know the cruelty of people and was still hopeful.

"I see..." Suguru uttered, looking away once again.

"You're right." Spoke another voice that neither of them know. Both of the boys looked over to the woman that stood a few feet from them. She was tall, long blonde hair and she wore a smile on her face. "Are you Geto? What kind of girls are you into?"

Your eyes were blank.

He only stared in return.

"I like girls with healthy appetites!" Haibara answered happily.

Suguru frowned. "Haibara."

"It's fine!" He turned to Surguru with a bright light in his eyes. "She's not a bad person. I'm a pretty good judge of character!"

Suguru felt something in his chest shift.

"Do you hate them, Suguru?"

"You say that while sitting next to me?" He uttered, sparing the junior a sidelong glance.

"Of course!" Haibara didn't hesitate.

The woman laughed, resting a hand on her hip. "He was being sarcastic, kid!"

No, I'm not. Suguru almost felt compelled to say. But he didn't have the energy. There wasn't any point in arguing with this stranger either. She didn't know him and he didn't know her. Something he would happily continue to stay true.

Embarrassed, Haibara excused himself with the woman quickly taking his spot. In an instant, Suguru drew back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Is he your junior? Such an honest and cute kid."

Suguru couldn't help the distasteful glare he sent from the side. "As a jujutsu, he shouldn't be so trusting." He said bitterly.

The woman looked a little discouraged by his little jab, but continued on. "And you, Geto? Are you going to answer my question?"

"Answer mine first— who are you?"

The woman raised her chin, a small smirk on her lips. "Special grade sorcerer Yuki Tsukumo. Ring a bell?"

"You're the...?"

Yes. Yes, it did. Suguru thought bitterly.

He could distinctly recall you rambling on about Tsukumo. On how you wished you could be like her. Someone highly recognized and didn't care what the higher-ups said— just lived her life. To Suguru, it sounded like Tsukumo was kind of a failure. But to you, it was as if she was a symbol of something amazing. Proof that something that was suddenly attainable to you.

Suguru had been convinced you just had a crush on her.

"Nice! The what?"

Suguru clenched his jaw at her interruption of his thoughts. "The no-good special grade who doesn't take on any missions and just bums around overseas." He informed her flatly.

The woman's smile slipped away and she pouted heavily. "I hate Jujutsu High!" She fell back, her elbows rested on the back of the bench. She sulking. "Just kidding. But I'm not lying when I say we don't see eye-to-eye. What they do here is treat symptoms. What I want is to get at the root cause."

Suguru couldn't help perking up with interest. "The root cause?" He asked slowly.

"I don't want to exorcise curses after they appear. I want a world where curses don't even exist."

He stared at her in shock. A world without curses? He felt like he could almost rejoice. His heart gave a little skip and he almost felt like things were normal.

"How about a little lesson? Tell me, what are curses anyway?"

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Curses are created when cursed energy leaks from humans. It then gathers like sediment and takes form." He answered easily. It was something taught in their first year, something everyone knows.

"Excellent," Tsukumo encouraged, nodding. "If that's the case, there are two ways to create a world where curses no longer exist: one, eradicate cursed energy from all humanity. Two, teach humans how to control their cursed energy. The first one's not a bad idea. There was a model case for it after all."

"A model case?"

"Someone you're familiar with: Zen'in Toji."

Almost instantly, Suguru felt an anger rush over him. Toji. That was someone else that he tried to avoid thinking about. Usually, it only led to thoughts darker than when he thought about you. He thought about the various things he would've done to Fushiguro if given the chance. The slow and torturous death he would've given to him if he had the chance. He doubted it would eat away the hatred in his heart, but Suguru would take anything to have him suffer as you did. As he did.

"There have been several cases where heavenly restriction has reduced a person's cursed energy to normal levels. But to eradicate one's cursed energy completely... I've searched all over the world, and he's the only one who's ever done it. But that's not the only thing that's interesting about him. Despite not having cursed energy, Zen'in Toji was able to sense curses using his five sense. By eliminating all cursed energy, his body became sharpened to the point where he developed a resistance to curses."

A part of Suguru really wanted to tell Tsukumo that he didn't care. That monster died and he was glad to hear it. Even if he was the only way to get rid of curses, he was overjoyed that the man was dead now.

"Don't feel bad about losing him." Suguru scoffed, face blank. "I wanted to research him but he blew me off. It's too bad he died."

You smiled at Riko. You held her shoulders. You were going to take her home.

Your eyes were blank.

I killed Gojo Satoru.

"Cases of heavenly restriction are few and far between. So my focus is on two." Tsukumo seemed completely unaware of Suguru's mind raging on while she spoke. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Did you know, jujutsu sorcerers don't give birth to curses?"

That snapped Suguru out of his thoughts. He slowly dragged his eyes to stare at the side of the woman's head as she carried on.

"Of course, that's excluding cases where sorcerers become curses after death—" Do you hate them, Suguru? "—The amount of cursed energy that leaks from sorcerers, compared to from non-sorcerers, is extremely low. There is a difference in how much we consume and use cursed energy because of our profession. But the real reason lies in how it flows through us. For sorcerers, it flows heavily within us. If we're talking general terms— if every single human became a jujutsu sorcerer, no curse would ever be born again."

Suguru's world as he knew it, paused.

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

Those people. Humans. Non-sorcerers. They created the world that killed you. They created a world where he was alone.

Do you hate them, Suguru?

"Then why not just kill every non-sorcerer?" He asked softly, not daring to lift his head or eyes from between his feet.

There was a silence between the two of them that made him tense up. He said something wrong. But why didn't it feel wrong? Why didn't the suggestion disgust him or make him sweat? Why did it feel like an idea that was meant to be said?

"Geto," Tsukumo finally spoke, voice slow and calculated. "That is an option."

What?

"In fact, that might be the easiest route!"

Suguru slowly lifted his eyes from the floor and stared at the woman next to him with wide eyes. Now, he felt it. He felt the sweat on his brow. It's an option. "What?" He uttered, tilting his head to try and meet her eye as she stared into the distance. "Um..."

"Weed out non-sorcerers and make them adapt to a jujutsu sorcerer based society. In other words, forced evolution. Kinda like how birds grew wings. Using dear and danger as a catalyst."

It's an option. Suguru couldn't shake his stare. He was holding his breath and just staring at her.

"But," There it is. "I aint' that crazy."

She looked amused, but she didn't know him. She didn't know his feelings and the fact that he hated—

"Do you hate non-sorcerers, Geto?" She asked it sincerely.

Do you hate them, Suguru?

His eyes went back the floor, ashamed. "I don't know." He started with a whisper. "I used to think jujutsu sorcerers existed to protect non-sorcerers. But recently, I've been doubting whether non-sorcerers are worth fighting for. The preciousness of the weak. The ugliness of the weak. I can no longer tell the difference. The part of me that looks down on non-sorcerers.... the part of me that tries to resist that feeling...."

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

"If being a jujutsu sorcerer is like running a marathon, then the finish line is too unclear." Suguru placed a hand against his forehead, hairs tangled between his fingers. "I don't know what I really feel."

"It's understandable, you know?" Suguru glanced at her with a frown as she eyed him contemplatively. "You watched your friend die, right? It's never easy. Messes you up. I'm sure I don't have to tell you."

You don't.

"Death and mourning something can really conjuring some nasty things in your mind. Like killing non-sorcerers— you want to take that anger out on someone. The anger for your friend's life being taken away." She explained it like it was so easy, as if she knew his next steps when he did not. "But looking down on non-sorcerers... resisting that feeling... those are just possibilities you've thought of. Whatever your true feeling is, you still have to decide."

The conversation didn't lead to anywhere else and Suguru was feeling himself grow more tired the more he stayed away from his dorm. He was about to excuse himself when Tsukumo asked for him to follow her out. She didn't say much on the way out and Suguru was grateful for it.

The woman got on her bike and waved at him. "I'll see ya! I was hoping to say hi to Gojo as well. Bad timing, I guess." She slid her goggles on. "As fellow special grade sorcerers, let's all three of us get along, okay?"

Suguru gave her his best smile, which wasn't much. "I'll send you regards to Gojo."

Tsukumo smiled, starting up her bike. She was about to ride off when she looked back at him. "One last thing. Don't worry about what happened with the Star Plasma Vessel. Whether there was another vessel or another vessel was born— whatever happened, Tengen is stabilized."

He didn't think it possible, but his hatred grew. Tengen is stabilized.

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

Tengen is stabilized.

Suguru bowed his head as she drove off. "I figured."

What the fuck had you died for, anyway?

Haibara was dead and he'd seen the body. The entire time Suguru thought of you.

As Nanami attempted to hold back tears, as he explained that they were caught off guard by a special grade, Suguru saw you in Haibara's place.

Both of you victims of a system created to protect people who weren't grateful. Who didn't even know you exist. People who had spared both of you not a single glance despite being so caring, so selfless. Who were they to put this unbearable burden on everyone's shoulders then act like you were different?

Haibara was sweet. You liked him. So did Suguru.

Haibara was dead. So were you. Suguru felt hatred build in him.

As he stared at Haibara's bloodied face, he had thought one thing: who would suffer for this death?

Gojo completed the mission. Gojo exorcised the curse. Gojo. Gojo. Gojo. Gojo.

Gojo.

Why should Gojo be the one wrecking havoc? When it was Suguru that was filled with rage? When he was the one that wanted nothing more than to harm the ones that caused this all?

Do you hate them, Suguru?

"What is this?" Suguru asked slowly, staring at the sight before him.

Two girls seemingly coward away from him. Their faces bloodied and bruised. The cage that contained them offered no comfort. Just the cold hard ground and the darkness. They shook under his gaze and he couldn't find it in himself to look away. He couldn't turn around and question the people behind him. He did not know what he'd do if he looked them in the eyes as they explained themselves.

"What do you mean? These two are responsible for the incident, right?" Asked one man.

Suguru clenched his jaw. "No, they are not."

"These two possess strange powers and often attack the villagers."

This was of your own creation.

"I already dealt with the cause for the incident."

"My grandchild nearly died because of these two!" Protested the elderly woman as if she realized that Suguru wasn't going to believe these two were responsible.

The blonde child leaned forward. "That was because they—"

"Shut up you monsters!"

"Your parents were the same! I knew we should've killed you when you were born!"

As the two adults berated the children, Suguru came to a decision. His heart was no longer torn in two. As he stared at the girl's, his resolution was made.

He lifted his finger and a shadowed curse sprouted. "It-It'll be okay..." The girls stared at him with wide eyes, almost relieved. If he were a different man. If he in a different mindset then, he would've cried over the relief that washed over them. "Do...Don't worry... it'll be o-okay."

He ignored how familiar the voice was, how familiar the words were. He'd grown used to finding something that wasn't there in the curses he had collected. The fact that the ones he barely manifested were the ones that sounded like you the most.

Suguru turned around to the villagers and smiled. One that he hadn't managed to conjure up in some time.

"Let's step outside for a moment, shall we?"

The two followed him out and Suguru wasn't sure what words he said, what movement he made, but he could see the horror in their eyes. As he manifested his beloved curses, the one people like them had created, he felt an anger bubble up. Emotions that he had desperately pushed aside in an attempt to continue his life were now running their way to the forefront of his mind.

The grief of losing you. The anger of the complete disregard of you life by the society as a whole. The fact that there was nothing left of you now. Nothing—

"Suguru, do you hate them?"

His body stiffened. His wide eyes dragged from the horrified, begging people before him, to over his shoulder. The shadow that loomed over him now.

He'd read about this before. It was some obscure book he found while researching previous curse manipulators. It talked about various things that he used to prove to Yaga that he was learning something. One section had piqued his interest, but it was never information that he'd use in random day-to-day. Vengeful spirits. Usually, this only happened after sorcerers die without jujutsu being used against them. Their very soul and spirit is corrupted and transformed into something horrible. Something darker than who they truly were in life.

As Suguru stared at the spirit before him now, he knew what he had inadvertently done to you. The way your large body curled around him, wisps of what should be hair floating above you, your body clad in an open and flowing kimono. What caught his eyes the most, were your own eyes. Despite being almost invisible, he was relived. They were not blank. Instead, they looked like they burned with the rage he had held back for years.

It was as if you were the extension of his very soul.

"It should be noted that if you find yourself attached to a vengeful spirit: You must establish a clear master/servant bond. As the spirit is attached to your own soul, they musn't be allowed to overcome you. If exorcism is not an option, then create a clear set of rules. Summon them only when necessary. Vengeful spirits are not to be taken lightly."

"Suguru, do you hate them?" Your eyes did not leave his.

This time, he didn't hesitate nor lie. "Yes."

He heard them whimper in fear.

You moved unnaturally, but he didn't care. "Do you want them to die, Suguru?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yes."

Your hand rested on his shoulder and he didnt even care if your talon like nails dug into his flesh. He watched, awestruck, as you turned your feral gaze onto the cowering villagers. "Can I hurt them for you, Suguru?"

Despite your state, despite what it meant for him, he couldn't help but feel the warmth blossom through his chest. He basked in the feeling of your brushed against his shoulder.

"Yes."

An unnatural smile creeped over your face and your shot forward, now clutching your katana.

All Suguru could think was: you're back.

"Suguru....what have you done?"

Geto adjusted his gojogesa with a emotionless mask over his face. The bags that had adorned his eyes for the past year were mostly gone. He was finally able to eat. His mind wasn't constantly ringing with that thunderous applause or the thud of your body. Instead, he was free. There was silence.

Except whenever you spoke.

"Where did you get that energy? Suguru, answer me!"

He had seen Gojo a week ago. He had said his goodbyes, vaguely masked as threat. Geto knew what they were now. Enemies by default. He knew it couldn't be long before the higher-ups found out about the village— known exactly what he'd become that night. He was a curse user.

God, was that a great feeling.

Geto was giddy that night. He couldn't help the giddiness he felt with his freedom. The happiness he felt as he held Nanako and Mimiko in his arms, trekking through the woods to the main street where he dragged them to his parent's house. That whole situation had been something in itself. Their anger, their confusion, the heartbreak for not understanding their son anymore.

Geto had simply taken what he needed for the twins, then left you to take care of his parents.

"You feel it, don't you, Gojo? You see them."

There was an assortment of things that Geto found himself doing after he defected. He suddenly found himself in the place of taking care of two twin girls that clung to his clothes and followed his every word like he was the Buddha guiding them towards enlightenment. There big eyes screamed the thank you's that he did not need or would accept. Still, he could tell that they were trying to prove that they were useful to him. Whatever that meant coming from a pair of 6 year olds.

The second thing he'd started was taking over the Star Plasma Religious Group. Although he heard they had disbanded a year prior, it appeared that they were just absorbed by another money hungry fool scamming them for every last cent they had. Not that he was about to go bad mouthing other people's methods for something he was about to do himself. It was surprisingly easy to take over a religious group when you had a vengeful spirit hanging off of you. The men, although easy to get on his side, he still killed. There was no point to their existence now. Not when he had his own plans outside from worshipping the likes of Tengen.

The last thing he was taking care of was you.

"....What did you do?"

"Nothing. I did nothing. They're was always with me."

Geto's adventure back into the books covering vengeful spirits was actually welcomed this time around. As a younger student, he hadn't really cared to think about what would happen to him if he happened to die in a terribly normal way. But now it was something he regarded with the utmost fascination. The different descriptions of vengeful spirits made him ponder exactly what you were.

Violent and seeking revenge. Sad and lost. Unaware they're dead and seeking guidance. Plague that spreads death, leeching off certain hosts. Clingy, they seek approval from the attached for their actions. These spirits had a connection with the host in their life and feel something unfinished in their death.

He could remember the look in Gojo's eyes as his eyes strained to look over Geto's shoulder. The fear and the realization that washed over him. The anger in his eyes as he seemed to grieve over not only Suguru, but you as well. The waver in his voice as he asked Geto what he had done. It almost made Geto feel bad.

Almost.

Gojo had his life laid out for himself. The higher-ups knew what they could do with him. He was practically bred and born for his role amongst everything. He'd live and die the jujutsu society. Something that always unsettled Suguru, but something Geto accepted. He came second. Last compared to jujutsu.

At least he had you. It was you and him first. Then Gojo. He could make this work again. He wouldn't let anything happen to you again.

Geto shifted his attention elsewhere as he flattened his robes.

God, he really did look the part now, didn't he? Except, maybe, the hair. But he wasn't doing anything about it.

"This place is still a religious group to the public, are you okay with that?" Asked one of the nameless faces that Geto would encounter in his life.

He over looked the stage before him with a flat expression. "As long as I can collect curses and money, that's all right." He reassured.

The man frowned, looking at Geto with some vague confusion. "Are you really going out there like that?"

He let a grin spread across his lips. "Why not? Bluffing and looking the part is important."

"Master Geto..."

He spared the twins a soft glance, a reassuring smile gracing his features. He reached down and ruffled their hair gently. "Be sure to watch closely." He whispered to them, watching with a warmth in his heart as they smiled and giggled at one another. "Have they gathered?"

"Directors, representatives. The chairman. And a lot more money waiting."

Geto grinned, taking the microphone from the man, and making his way out onto the stage.

The last time he'd been in the building they were giving a thunderous applause for Riko's death and, by extension, yours. He had been waiting a year to see them all again. To look them in the eyes and find a proper way to make them suffer. To make them feel the same fear or suffering that you and Riko had in your last moments.

"Can everyone hear me? Thank you for waiting, I'll keep this short." He announced as he came to a stop before them all. Nameless faces, judgmental side eyes, questionable whispers to one another. They did not remember Suguru. But he would make sure they remembered Geto. "As of this moment, this group is mine. We'll have a new name as well. You all will obey me."

Instantly, there was a scattered rise of opposition in the crowd.

Geto's grin faltered as he listened to the various questions of exactly who was he made their way to him. He could hear the anger and the confusion. His frustration heightened.

"Well, isn't that a shame." He dragged a hand over his face, eyes grazing the crowd before he grinned one more. He tried to look as inviting as he could, waving a hand at one man in particular. "Mister Sonoda! Could you please come up to the stage? Yes, that's right, you!"

As the older man stood from his seat and hobbled his way up, Geto narrowed his eyes. Despite his smile, his eyes couldn't hide the contempt and the hatred he had for the man before him. He could see that he noticed in the way he faltered on the steps. But pushed through and stood by Geto's eyes.

He made eye contact with Sonoda, then— "Y/N."

He found it easy to summon you. To watch you tear away at the man who had so brazenly ordered Riko's death. To listen to the garbled expressions of hatred you exclaimed as you tore his enemies limb-by-limb. It felt like it was some form a justice. To finally see the horror in their eyes, the blankness of it all. Bittersweet for him to watch.

However, he couldn't stand there and watch you in awe forever. He had people to take under his control.

Geto turned his attention back to the crowd. Satisfaction grew in his chest as he saw the horror and shock fall over their faces. Easily, Geto threw the microphone away.

"Now then, let's try this again." He scowled at the crowd, feeling you loom over his shoulder once again. He used his thumb to brush away some of the blood. "Obey me, monkeys."

III. 2015

"Are you mad at me, Suguru?"

Things had been going smoothly for Geto in the past eight years.

The cult, because that's what he considered it, was running finely. Those who owed money, gave it to him, or else. Those who followed, followed with loyalty, or else. Those who served no purpose, were dealt with. He had created a normal amongst the congregation. A standard that he himself had wanted to watch them scramble to keep. A constant state of panic or devotion for them that fed into his, honestly, growing ego.

Things like his family kept him rather humble.

The girls had grown accustomed to their lives with Geto. They seemed to thrive and love under his care. All of them had grown to a routine that they cherished with one another. They even seemed accustomed to you. The fear and confusion of others wasn't found in their eyes or hearts. Geto never properly explained what happened after death if certain things didn't take place, but they understood anyone. They knew you were important to him— by extension making you important to them.

The other members of the family— Laure, Miguel, Manami, Toshihisa— had a vague understanding of exactly what a vengeful spirit entailed. Although, they weren't jumping at the opportunity to really talk about it. Laure had attempted once, but the conversation died out quickly due to the look on Geto's face. The man was quick to drop the topic once he saw the expression painting the leader's face. Allegedly, he looked ready to kill.

Earlier that day, though, Miguel was braver. And Geto was in a far clearer mood.

"How did it happen?" The man's deep voice asked gently from where he sat across from Geto. Once the confusion set in of his sudden question, he raised an eyebrow at the apparent shadow rested behind his chair. "How did they get cursed?"

Geto himself had thought about it for years. He wondered what point you had been damned blessed to be attached to his soul even after death. It took him a long time. In the mix of things, death and decay, the sharp turn of his ideals— he had barely any time to really think about what made you this spirit clinging onto his life.

Some books said that it could be the connection shared by the host and spirit before death. Others said that hosts had the ability to curse the spirit themselves. That their desperation and their inability to let go was the true reason that sorcerers would live on as something horrible. Something completely opposite as to who they were in life.

He had pushed the thoughts away before they could ever really come to fruition. The possibility that he had been the one to create you into this. The thought alone was enough to twist his stomach. So instead he ignored it. He lived in blissful ignorance.

"Just happens sometimes after death." Geto answered flatly, turning his attention back to his book. He knew there was curiosity amongst his family to know things about you. Afterall, you were considered a part of the family, but there was simply no room to have conversation with you. You either grew hostile or confused and sought Geto out for answers. "Sorcerers whenever they're killed by a non-curse way or something another.

"Hm," Miguel's hum had remained unconvinced as his eyes trailed back to you. As your fingers hovered over the corner of the seat, but you didn't peek out. "There was a couple in my village back home. They were considered the ideal relationship at the time— I was a kid and thought so too. They were kind people. I always enjoyed getting special treatment from the wife, she was like a mother. She was one of the only other people I ever met in my home country that could see curses. Everything was good. But then her husband went and died from sickness. There was something different from the moment she died. She went a little crazy and one day she went and got real angry. Then— boom, there's her husband. But he was different. He was like yours."

Geto hadn't really known what to make of that rather non-sensical story at the time. He had just stared at Miguel before nodding slowly in return. "That's tragic." He wasn't interested in the possibilities.

"Nanako told me it was hard on you when they died." Miguel carried on as if he hadn't very visibly paused for Geto to speak his heart out. "Said that you said it was the reason you're the way you are now."

There was moments where Geto felt frustration with the twins. Their willingness to be so open with the family. Their ability to talk about their emotions so easily. The fact that they couldn't keep a secret for their lives.

The conversation about you had come up when the house was particularly restless and they were morbidly curious. They asked what you were like alive. What he was like as a kid. What the both of you were like in high school. How did you die.

He had looked off distantly and recalled the details— although he left out the gorey, unlikeable parts. He left in the parts where he was sad, that he had a hard time. He explained it in a way that kids like them could understand and use later to make sure they didn't end up the same way. Isolated and full of hatred.

Then, he made the mistake of mentioning Gojo. Their questions fell on deaf ears as he wished them goodnight and tried to drown out the memories of his youth.

"Don't get on her case about it. She's was just curious what certain things meant." Miguel must've taken his silence as anger because he stared at Geto with pleasantly narrowed eyes. "Have you ever considered exactly what happened to them?"

The question wasn't hostile or had any nefarious undertones.

He might as well had threatened Geto though.

Your eyes were blank.

"Please get up."

Geto had quickly excused himself, claiming that he needed to head to bed. He didn't miss the disappointment in Miguel's eyes or the fact that he had tensed up as you drew closer. He didn't want to think about it. What had taken place before, during, and after your death. He didn't need the questions—

"Please get up."

Tonight he couldn't escape it.

Eight years worth of questions and mystery filled his mind. The things he didn't dare address or ponder upon.

Sitting against his headboard, staring blankly into the darkness, he knew exactly how things ended up like this.

Him, a pathetic boy, staring into your lifeless eyes— he had begged for you to be alive. He had laid there with tears in his eyes, a pain in his chest, and a wavering plead breaking from his lips. Before he had fallen unconscious, he reached out his hand.

He reached out his hand.

Your eyes were blank.

Geto knew that he had cursed you. That his pleads and desperately attempt at touching you one last time had somehow damned you. He didn't need to know how it worked. He just knew that it was his fault.

The disgust in Gojo's eyes, the heartbreak, the shock. It was all things Geto deserved. For he had robbed you of the eternal rest you deserved.

The tears collected in his eyes and, for the first time in eight years, he felt a heavy bought of regret press against his chest.

He's known you longer dead than you were alive. Two years of his life had ruled onto the next eight. He had let his grief blind him. He was desperate to not let you go. To keep up some illusion in his head that he would be able to keep you there. To not let you fade away.

Selfish. He'd never been selfish before your death.

"Suguru?"

Your voice, distorted and garbled, was not something that he wanted to hear in that moment. Whatever reason, you were beside the bed now, head rested against your arms. He barely spared you a glance as the tears spilled over.

Selfish. Here you were now. Some weird sense in you to come out and comfort him. He had done this to you. An eternity to comfort him.

Selfish.

"Suguru, are you angry?" You sounded concerned, an odd sound that it didn't seem to fit you now.

Geto clenched his jaw, flexing his fingers. "Only at myself." He uttered.

You inched forward on the bed, a heavy frown spread across your face. "Why are you angry at yourself?"

He finally dragged his eyes to you, lids heavy and face almost as lifeless as your own. "I cursed you." He said it quietly but it felt extremely loud in his empty room. He looked for any realization in your eyes, any type of anger directed at him, but there was nothing. You just stared in return. You should be enraged. "I cursed you. Don't you understand what that means?"

Still, you didn't look angry.

"You saved me—"

"No, no, I didn't." Geto interrupted, closing his eyes in mild irritation. "I didn't... save you. I cursed you. I-I cursed you to stay by my side as I kill. As I kill in your name, you should be angry, Y/N."

“But… they’ve hurt you.” You say it with such confusion and sincerity that it makes him sick.

It’s then that he realizes what this all meant.

If you were alive now, you would look at him with all the rage in the world. You would damn him. You would be disgusted. If you were alive you would probably try to get him to see it all differently. You would tell him that staying with Gojo would’ve been better than this isolation, than this constant feeling in his chest. You would’ve known better than him.

It was then that he realized that he still blamed you for a lot. He wasn’t sure if things would be the same if just Riko died. Or maybe if you all had lived. Would he still be drawn to the same fate only later? Sometimes he was hopeful that he would be the same. Other times he wished he didn’t. All of it led to one thing: his anger for you.

There were some nights he would stay up and think about what you would do in his position. You would forgive them, try to use death as a chance to grow. You were much kinder than him. Or maybe you would be driven insane. None of you had quite tasted death until that mission. You probably would’ve handled things much differently than him if you had seen where Haibara ended up.

Bitterly, Geto thought, you probably would’ve given up.

Your sadness was always prone to taking you down. To whisper those forbidden and nasty things to you until you just wanted to bleed. You admitted to him and Gojo once that you didn’t even think you would make it to high school once. It scared them both, but you always got back up.

Yeah, you wouldn’t handle the sadness.

With a clenched jaw, Geto reached out and held your face. “I made you into this. You only kill and feel that way because that’s how I feel. Doesn’t that make you angry? Don’t you hate me?” He so desperately wanted you to see it from his point of view. He wanted the logic of it all to hit your brain and for you to finally finish what Toji and Gojo couldn’t— properly kill him.

However, just as you were in life, you would never take his life.

“I don’t care about those things.” You uttered in that distorted voice, those eyes of yours filled with emotions that he couldn’t hand pick. “Have I done something to upset you, Suguru?”

"No." Geto answered without hesitation. He pinched his eyes closed and took a deep breath. "I just want you to understand what this is."

He could feel your nail ghost over his thigh. "I understand."

Geto didn't believe you did, but he didn't have the energy to fight you. Not anymore. A part of him would always long to have a good long argument with you. But now it felt different. It felt as if it were all fabricated.

You were too agreeable now.

Please don't die. Please don't leave me.

But he supposed this was his punishment now. For being so desperate.

He rested his hand on top of your head. "Thanks for listening, I guess."

He can deal with the guilt later.

IV. 2017

Geto Suguru knew this would happen.

At least, a part of him was aware that death with a very high likely once he looked Gojo Satoru in the eye and declared war. Maybe even before that as he overlooked the mess of blood and limbs Rika had left behind at the elementary.

Either way, Geto Suguru knew this would happen.

"Hey," You had spoke one day as the three of them lounge in the courtyard. You had your uniform jacket open and your hair loose from the headband you wore to keep it out of your face. A good memory if it weren't for your next question. "Is it good to live a dishonorable life and have a honorable death, or a honorable life with a dishonorable death?"

"Huh? Why would you ask that now?" Satoru had pouted.

You had shrugged. "I mean, Yaga-sensei says that to be a sorcerer we'll have to live with our regrets, but he never talks about honor."

Satoru, in true fashion, rolled his eyes at you before taking a large bite out of his sandwich. "Because it's a bunch of self righteous mumbo-jumbo." He had said through a mouth full.

"Whatever." Your eyes dragged to Suguru. Your face had blossomed into a soft smile. "What do you think, Suguru?"

Suguru had frowned, biting on his lower lip as he thought. "I think what we all consider honorable varies. At the end of the day, you'll have to look back on your life yourself and decide whether you lived it worth wild." As you and Satoru stared at him with raised eyebrows, he shyly shrugged. "Don't worry about how honorable or dishonorable you'll be to others— just live a life that'll make you happy."

While you stared at him with someone akin to awe, Satoru stared blankly at him before bowing. "Truly inspirational, Suguru-sama, please invoke more of your wisdom on us!"

You had defended Suguru fervently as Satoru crowed against your assault. Then, he had been unwavering in his beliefs.

Now, Geto Suguru, stumbling down the ally with a missing arm, knew that all was bullshit.

There was nothing honorable or dishonorable about death. It was all a matter how people viewed you at the time. No one would be truly satisfied with their death because there would be a long list of things they wished they had done or hadn't done in their life.

As Yaga had said, they would all die with regrets.

His plans to obtain Rika had been rooted from a place of pure selfishness. His need to find alternative needs that didn't include using you in the most indescribable and unforgiveable way. He knew, deep down, that if he had used you the way that he planed to use Rika's powers— he would never forgive himself.

He hadn't even wanted to use you against Okkotsu Yuta. But that kid was something else. Most definitely a protege of Gojo Satoru. He could recall the caught off guard look on Okkotsu's face once you appeared. The confusion and the shock that overtook him as you wrapped yourself around Geto Suguru. He had uttered something that made the man falter.

"You're like me?"

There were so many things something that could mean.

You're like me: you're cursed with a love by your side, permanently protecting you against things that you didn't think were dangerous.

You're like me: someone had died so close to you that couldn't quite detach themselves from your soul.

You're like me: you cursed another because you couldn't accept that death was final?

Yes, Geto Suguru bitterly thought as his drive to kill Okkotsu grew. I did.

Now, Geto Suguru couldn't even feel you brewing with his soul. He didn't even think there'd be a difference if you ever left him. But there was this odd sense of loneliness deep within him that made him sick (definitely had nothing to do with the intense blood loss). His stomach churned as his mind silently cried out for you.

Was this true death? Nothing left to hold onto, just the memories and emptiness?

You're like me: you can't live without them.

Geto Suguru fell against the wall of the alley with a bitter scoff. Of course he couldn't. No matter how much he tried to convince himself, he spent the last 10 years attach his very life and soul around you. Tried to act like a big boy whenever he was asked what he would do if he was freed from this curse.

He didn't even get to say goodbye.

Your eyes were blank.

"You finally made it," Geto Suguru snorted as he shifted his eyes over to the looming figure feet from him. "Satoru."

There was something so jarring seeing him now.

Compared to when he arrived a month prior, Gojo Satoru lacked those bandages around his eyes. Those blinding and once comforting pair of sky blues were staring into his very soul blankly. Did he realize that he wasn't coming to say goodbye to you? To free you from a monster like Geto Suguru? That he had actually used you in a last ditch effort to obtain Rika?

He was sure he was aware now.

"You'll be the one to take me down, huh?" He kept a hold on his shoulder as he dragged his eyes away from Gojo Satoru to avoid the unbearable guilt that overcame him. Years of regret and what if's overtaking his mind. "How's my family?"

As long as Nanako and Mimiko were safe, he could die without regret.

"They all got away. Kyoto was your doing too, wasn't it?" Gojo Satoru's voice was as telling as it was 10 years ago. As saddened and angered as the day he had walked away from it all.

"Yeah, unlike you, I'm a kind person. You sent those two here knowing I'd defeat them.... just so you could trigger Okkotsu's growth." He had been thinking about it since the moment Okkotsu's eyes had darkened. The unbearable grief that took over the boy as he eyed his unmoving and bloody friends.

Your eyes were blank.

"It's called trust. People with beliefs like yours wouldn't kill a young sorcerer without reason."

Geto Suguru laughed. "Trust, huh?" He couldn't help the amusement flow through him. After all these years... "I didn't realize you still felt any connection with me."

His counterpart responded with a scoff. "Suguru." It was said with the weight of a thousand lonely days— as if Satoru had thought the same. As if nothing had changed. The man clenched his jaw, ducking his eyes from view as he spoke once again: "Any last words?"

Geto Suguru drew in a heavy breath, things were really getting hazy now— almost feather light. "No matter what, I'll always hate those monkeys." His words were said with the disdain and hatred of the past ten years. Then he thought about where he was 10 years ago. The grief and the isolation that overtook him. He grew quiet. "But it's not like I hate everyone at Jujutsu High. It's just that in this world... I couldn't wear a heartfelt smile."

Satoru stood there in silence. Seeming to take in the words carefully.

"Anything else?" He uttered.

Suguru frowned, ducking his head. There was one thing he had been thinking about for the past two years that grappled him in the most unnerving ways. "Do you think they'll forgive me?" His question was soft and barely there— he was barely there himself anyway.

Satoru scoffed, except it sounded more fond than before. "They were always too forgiving of us. If you're worried about your purgatory being apologizing to them for eternity, then you're fine— it'd be too easy anyway." He joked softly, except his blank expression didn't quite add to the comfort or joke of it all.

I'd spend the rest of time apologizing. Suguru fought the urge to say.

"I figured."

"Suguru," Satoru took attentive steps forward, crouching down to his level. Their eyes met and there was something almost tangiable in that gaze of his. "I love you. I forgive you."

Suguru couldn't help the shock that flushed over his body. As the pain seemed to leave him completely, he used the last bits of his strength to show Satoru a true smile. The only one he could really conjure.

"You could at least curse me at the end."

As Satoru stared at him, as Yuta Okkotsu celebrated with his friends the victory and their safety, and as Suguru took his last breaths, his eyes trailed over Satoru's shoulder.

You stared back with a kind smile. Looking more alive than you had in the past ten years, you wore the clothes you had the day you died, your normal boring uniform. Suguru hated to admit he missed seeing those terrible uniforms.

"Suguru."

#✩࿐ t writes #♡ oneshot #jjk fic #jjk #jjk x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto #geto suguru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk spoilers #geto suguru x curse!reader

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bonny-kookoo · 5 months

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Can we get a drabble of someone older, of yn and jungkook waking up for the first time in jk house 🥺 perhaps in jk pov because it was his first like after years of divorce 😭 and like as per he said “my bed never witness me with others” 😆😆

Of course! Went a bit overboard pls I love them-

-> Masterlist

He's stretching his limbs a little, like usual after waking up, yawning just to notice that this time, he's not alone in bed.

He feels a lot better being back at home and not in hospital- even though it's empty here, it's still a place of safety and comfort to him. And right now, it feels even more as such- as you still sleep soundly next to him in his large bed, filling it up with warmth and a sense of serene company.

It's not at all the first time he wakes up next to a woman. But somehow, this is entirely new.

You're turned towards him even while not conscious, one of your hands touching his body, even though it's just resting on his lower stomach beneath the covers. Nothing intimate happened last night before you went to bed- mostly because you were too worried about his physical condition to let him initiate anything, but even so, it feels like it did.

Because he remembers, back in the day, Evelyn would only sleep so close to him in bed after sex- her afterglow clouding her mind, making her most likely believe she loved him.

He knows she didn't. She only loved what he was bringing to the table.

But you don't care about that. You care about him as a person, and it's evident in how you slowly wake up, barely so, mind probably slipping out of your deep stage of sleep to get ready to become conscious in a few minutes. Eyes fluttering beneath your lids, head so close your forehead is resting against his shoulder, arm laid over his body. Even one of your legs is entangled with his, feet nowhere near as cold as they were when you'd slipped under the blankets last night.

You're so peaceful like this. There's not a hint of worry on your face.

His face is flinching a bit as he gets reminded of his injuries, while attempting to turn over a bit to hold you- he wants to just forget everything else and bathe in whatever this moment is. But it's somewhat shattered by his phone vibrating and ringing outside in the kitchen- waking you up, eyes slowly opening to look at him.

"Oh.." you mumble, noticing what the sound is, before you turn onto your back to stretch fully, making him both a bit jealous of your ability to do so compared to him, and also feel disappointed that this is now the start to a new day, reality pulling you both back in. "Should I.. uh.." you speak mostly to yourself, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "..I'll get it for you-" you start, but he shakes his head, instead ignores his painful muscles as he pulls you in, almost on top of him. "Jungkook?"

"No, leave it." He denies, voice raspy and low in tone as it's the first words he speaks. "Stay." He says, taking in a deep breath, smell of both your shampoo and his bodywash filling his mind.

A mixture of both of you combined, creating something new.

Even his own shower products smell oddly different on your skin, and he can't say he's upset about it. If you ever moved in with him, would you decorate the place? Want new furniture, or change the layout of things? He hates when people mess with his stuff, but somehow, he wants you to do just that in here. Give it a distinctive touch of yours, offer him a reminder that he's not alone anymore even if you’re not here.

"Do you want breakfast?" You wonder sleepily, looking at him with eyes barely open.

"Hmhm." He hums affirmative. There's no use in running away from reality after all.

"There was a cat here." You giggle, out of context, but still making him smile. "In my dream." You explain further, yawning, his hand on your back gently running over the skin beneath your shirt. He likes this. No bra straps hindering his traveling hand, your words without filter as your standard amount of fear don't withhold any of your thoughts for now.

"A cat?" He asks, and you nod.

"It was.. brown. And fluffy." You say, resting your face on his bare chest. "It kept jumping on the kitchen counter. And you kept telling it off for it." You laugh. "But it just jumped back on, every time."

"Well, cats are quite stubborn." He tells you, watching the light outside from the sun occasionally change due to the could passing, curtains hiding you both away from the world. "I'm more of.. a dog person."

"Me too." You nod. "But there's a breed of cat that's kind of.. like dogs. Really affectionate. And they meow a lot." You say, stretching your legs for a second. "But they have really long fur. And it's white."

"They must feel very soft though." He chuckles. You nod.

"Yeah.." you admit. "But I'd have to get one of these.. these rollers with the sticky tape. To get all the fur off of your suits and shirts." You giggle. "..Or you might become a walking pet-allergy detector in your office..." you mumble, and he gets the joke-

But he also has to think for a moment.

You, in his bedroom, folding his clothes for him as he prepares for a business trip. You, making sure he doesn't forget anything the day after, kissing him goodbye at the door as you wait for him to return back. You, coming home from your own place of work while he's already home, cooking dinner.

All of the things he's never had.

"Your watch stopped." You notice, tapping on the glass top of it. He'd forgotten to take it off last night, and you're right- the delicate pieces are attempting to move, but the battery seems to be giving up.

"Because of you." He mumbles, leaning over you just a little, body still too sore. "You stop time for me." He smiles, and you giggle, accepting his kiss however before you escape into the bathroom to get ready for the day. And while you might think he was joking, he quite honestly wasn't.

Because time truly appears to become meaningless when he's with you.

He can't help but laugh a little faintly into his hands over his face, for how ridiculous this all feels. Like a crush back when he was still in school, he's excited but also panicking about what to do. He should have this all under control. This isn't his first relationship. And yet, all of this feels new, foreign, unknown.

But also truly exciting.

The anticipation for what might be filling his veins, and fueling his eagerness to show you that what you dream about doesn't have to just stay in your head. You want a cat? He'll get two so they're not lonely, no matter if they shed way too much for his expensive taste in suits and attire in general. You want a dog? Absolutely no issue. He'll get you anything you want, but this time, in your case, he's not doing it to keep you close, to make sure you don't leave-

But because you deserve it. And he doesn't just want to treat you right-

He wants to treat you the best anyone can.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic

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imtryingbuck · 2 months

Text

Twenty One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 5,600

Warnings: fluff, angst, heavy use of pet names. Brock, Dot and Jack. Swearing. A racial slur is used towards Sam. Talks of racism (very briefly) Injury done to reader, attempted sexual assault, hospital

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

A/N: any racial hate you will be blocked immediately.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Sweat dripped down the side of her face as she walked down the busy streets, her arms ached as the handles dug into her bare skin. Smiling at those as she passed them, her heart ached when the cute little Jack Russell wagged it’s tail at her, normally Y/n would politely ask the owner if she could pet their dog but since her arms where full she had to settle for giving the dog a smile and just hoped it would forgive her.

Just as she was about to turn the corner to walk down the street to where her apartment was she heard a voice that she would happily pay a lot of money to never hear again.

“Holy shit! Is that the freak?”

Satans spawn.

The man with half a brain cell.

Dumb as rocks.

Or better known as Brock Rumlow.

“Fuck it is Jack! Shit I’ve not seen you since you ran out of school crying because of that little prank I pulled on you” his loud obnoxious voice boomed.

Why the hell aren’t your feet moving! She screamed to herself in her head.

“What are you doing here? Hey freak I’m talking to you don’t be so rude” he reaches out and pulls on her arm, spinning her around she comes face to face with the two guys who had spent years tormenting her.

“How have you been freak?” Jack says looking her up and down licking his lips making her skin crawl.

“Freak-aw shit Jack do you think she’s deaf now?”

“Or she’s just being a rude bitch. I do have to admit she’s fucking sexy” Jack growled.

“Damn fucking right”

Y/n takes a step back and another and another all she needs to do is turn around and run to the safety of her home.

“Hey where do you think you’re going sexy?” Jack unfortunately notices she’s slowly backing away.

“L-Leave me a-alone” she hates how her voice wavers.

“We’re just talking freak-“

“Brocky who are you talking to? Oh it’s the freak” a whiny voice came from behind the two guys and then she sees the brunette that broke her Ducky’s heart. Dot.

“Yeah just bumped in to her baby” Brock threw his arm around the woman.

“When did it come back to town?”

“Don’t know she didn’t answer us, she’s being rude”

“Well let’s not waste our time speaking to the thing and let’s go” she whines.

“Baby stop being mean just because she stole your precious Bucky from you doesn’t mean you can be jealous still”

“Don’t be ridiculous it couldn’t steal anything from me, look at me Brocky then look at it”

“I’ve seen you Dot and even though her backs riddled with scars I’d still fuck her” Brock laughs as Dot smacks his chest.

“Don’t be gross. Let’s go boys we’re going to be late”

“Bye bye Y/n” Brock says walking away with Dot under his arm.

“Bye sexy, I’ll see you around” Jack ever the loyal dog follows his master.

She releases a stuttering breath as they got further away down the street, squeezing her eyes shut she went through her breathing exercises that Doctor Cho had taught her.

For three years she had been back living in their hometown and in the three years she only caught a glimpse of Brock once and that’s when he was in the alleyway next to her workplace fucking some girl that was most definitely not Dot.

Y/n wondered if Jack had seen her whilst he was on his own would he have said anything? She knew it was pretty unlikely as he was a natural born follower meaning he would never speak or do anything if Brock wasn’t there.

And as for Dot this was the first time she had even heard her voice, let alone seen her face to face. She probably wouldn’t say anything either if “Brocky” wasn’t there.

“Bun? Bunny?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?” Bucky asked slowly.

“Huh? When the hell did you get here?” Y/n blinked feeling slightly embarrassed that she was still standing in the middle of the street staring at where Brock had disappeared down.

“I’ve been shouting your name for ages and I even waved my hand in front of your face, Bun did something happen?”

“Oh…no everything’s fine I just blanked out that’s all”

“You’re not lying to me are you?”

“No of course not, here take these they’re heavy” passing him the bags she walks to her apartment leaving Bucky behind without realising.

Her apartment was small but enough for her, her mom had tried to get Y/n to take a bigger one but she fell in love with this apartment, it was cosy and inviting. It was perfect for her.

“Can you put the shopping away, I just need to change me clothes” she called over her shoulder.

“Of course”

Making a beeline straight for the bathroom she shuts the door locking it and goes over to the sink, putting the plug in the drain she fills the basin with hot water as it fills she takes the sponge coating it with the lavender body wash that Bucky brought her she turns off the tap and begins scrubbing her arm where Brock had touched her. Not stop until her arm started to bleed.

“Bun you in the bathroom?”

“I’ll be out in a second”

“Hurry I’m dying for a piss” Drying off her arm and taking the plug out she unlocks the door she steps out, Bucky goes to step forward before his eyes falls to her arm “Bun what happened?”

“N-nothing” trying to move her arm as he tries to grab it “Ducky it’s fine honestly”

“Y/n please, please don’t lie to me”

“I saw Brock Jack and Dot and Brock touched my arm so…” she trails off hoping Bucky understood.

Bucky stiffens up at the mention of his ex girlfriends name and the guy she had cheated on him with. He had only seen her a three times after he broke up with her, the first time was months after the breakup and she had showed up at his apartment that he shared with Steve and Sam begging him to take her back and that she would be better, said that she felt lonely in their relationship so that’s why she cheated, promising him that if he took her back she wouldn’t do it ever again. As Bucky just stood there not knowing what to do or say Sam came up from behind him and slammed the door in Dots face.

The second time was a few weeks later when she then showed up to Bucky’s workplace where he worked with his dad and begged him to give her a second chance, claiming that Brock was physically abusive to her. Bucky nearly caved he wasn’t going to take her back but he felt sorry for the abuse she was subjected to and was going to ring the police for her until Linda - his fathers secretary - walked over to Dot and smudged the bruise on the brunettes face “it’s make up sir” she told him.

The third and last time was when Bucky, Sam and Steve went to the diner not knowing she worked there, she was their waitress. Luckily for him she didn’t try and speak to him other than take his order.

To hear that Brock had put his hands on Y/n made his blood boil.

“What did he say?”

“Called me a freak” Bucky flinched at the word memories of him calling her that the last time he saw her before she went to boarding school hit him “he asked when I got back in to town and was just his self really”

“Bun-“

“Then Jack called me sexy I’m pretty sure I threw up a little bit in my mouth”

“He’s a pig. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because it doesn’t matter Duck, I’m okay now”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No not really, I just wish that I never had to see him ever again”

“Same, it would be perfect if all three of them fucked off”

“It would be nice wouldn’t it” she giggled.

“ITS THE POLICE OPEN UP” followed by banging on the door had both Y/n and Bucky jumping away from each other.

“Ducky”

“Stay here okay”

Opening the door Bucky sighed and shook his head, a boisterous laugh filled her small apartment as Sam stepped in followed by Steve and Sarah.

“You idiot you scared us!” Y/n scolded.

“Scared you, not me” Bucky replied buffing his chest out.

“No he scared you too”

“I’m sorry it was just too funny not to do it” Sam laughs.

“Sorry Y/n/n I did tell him not to do it” Sarah sighs shaking her head at her brothers antics.

“It’s alright Sar, but remind me to cancel the order for the cake that was for his birthday-“

“Cake? You ordered me cake? Y/n/n don’t take it away from me please, I’ll be good” Sam whines clutching Y/n’s arm.

“No, you’ve been bad”

“Please I’ll be extra good”

“Maybe”

“I’m taking that as a yes” Sam cheers grinning at them all, everyone just rolls their eyes.

“Right well I’m going to get dressed and Sam remember to be on your best behaviour or you get no cake for your birthday”

“Yes ma’am”

Knocking on the door to Wanda’s and Visions apartment Nat opened the door, knocking Y/n backwards when she jumped on her.

“I’ve missed you so much!” Nat said burying her face into Y/n shoulder.

“I’ve missed you so much too”

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you” Nat pouts, it had only been a few months since she had last seen either one of the redheads.

“A few months Natty but okay”

“Hey stop hogging my wife” Wanda’s soft voice is heard from the doorway.

“Hey hubby”

“Hello my beautiful wifey” everyone watches with amused grins as Y/n and Wanda hugged.

“Y/n…who’s the strangers” Nat questioned eyeing up the guys and Sarah.

“Oh yeah. Nat, Wanda this is Bucky, Steve Sarah and Sam, everyone this is my husband and our daughter”

“Yes OUR daughter”

“Wands you wanted a DNA test done and I did it, Nat’s yours”

“I wanted to be grandads daughter” Nat huffed.

“Don’t mind them three, hi I’m Vision but you can call me Vis. Come on in they’ll be arguing for ages”

Following Vis into the apartment it felt homely and inviting, taking in his surroundings Bucky looked around when something caught his eye, a photo frame hanging on the wall.

The frame had two photos the first one was of Y/n, Nat and Wanda standing side by side with their arms around each other, the smile on Y/n’s face was huge and genuine.

And the second one was of the three again but in this one they was wearing their graduation gowns as they stood hand in hand they threw their caps into the air.

“The first one is when Wanda and Nat met her and became friends and the second is obviously their graduation day” A voice said from the side of him. Bucky was so engrossed with the photos he hasn’t realised someone had come up next to him “sorry I didn’t mean to startle you”

“No it’s fine Vis, they all look so happy”

“I truly believe that they are platonic soulmates, they were destined to meet”

Bucky chuckles and nods agreeing with the man’s statement. “Here take a look at this one, this is from Wanda’s birthday a few years ago” handing Bucky a photo frame off the wall there was three photos laid out horizontally.

“…these are mugshots…”

“Yeah they all got arrested for stealing a cow-“

“They stole a cow?”

“Yes” Vis chuckles remembering Wanda throwing stones at his bedroom window and him looking out to see the girl he had a huge crush on and her friends standing outside, waving and smiling whilst standing next to a cow “I should probably tell you that it wasn’t a real cow but a plastic one, they stole it from outside a bar that was called Moo Moo”

“H-how-what-I’m so confused”

“So was I, getting woken up at two in the morning and seeing the three of them standing very proudly next to a huge plastic cow they had just stolen, still to this day I have no idea how they managed to carry it eight blocks to my dorm”

“Jesus Christ” Bucky shakes his head laughing “what did you do?”

“Well I left my dorm to go out to them and when I got there they wasn’t there then I saw the end part of the cow behind a tree and I heard them giggling I went over and the three of them was sitting on it, Nat and Y/n was telling Wanda to drive the cow faster so they wouldn’t get caught then they all screamed when I said Wanda’s name” Vis retold Bucky the events of that night.

“What happened to Y/n’s face? Did the police do it?”

“No no, no what happened was the police had arrived with the owner of the bar and made them get down but Y/n was very drunk and had missed calculated her steps, she fell.”

Bucky burst out laughing. “She’s an idiot”

“All three of them were that night, Nat told the police she didn’t speak English whilst saying it in English. Wanda started running, she ran around the tree a few times before a cop had grabbed a hold of her and Y/n well…she was still on the ground.” Vision laughed along with Bucky “that was the night I knew I was in love with Wanda”

“Really?”

“Yes, I don’t know why but it was that night”

Bucky smiled at the guy before looking back at the mugshots “Y/n never told me she was arrested before…how did Wanda get them? I thought the police kept them”

“Oh. And Wanda’s father is quite scary when he wants to be, he made sure that the police report was destroyed and that the girls were let go. He paid for any damages and the owners “pain and suffering”. Wanda had given Y/n and Nat the same frame and photos, Nat has hers hanging up I’m not sure about Y/n”

“Pain and suffering” Bucky shook his head “I’ve never seen it at her apartment”

Vision shrugged his shoulders “have you seen this photo before?” He asks changing the subject.

“Yeah, she has it hanging up on her wall” the photo was of the girls, Vision, Pietro and another guy.

“That’s Clint, he’s sat over there” Vis turns and points over at Clint who was talking to Steve, Sam and Sarah “we all did a marathon for charity and to say the girls was struggling is an understatement, me and the guys end up having to practically carry them over the finishing line”

Bucky already knows the story behind the photo he laughed just as he did when Y/n had told him when he saw it. “They’re idiots”

“Oh most definitely, and when they’re together they’re even worse”

“Oi Vis go and get the girls” Clint shouts over.

“Are they still arguing?” Receiving a nod from his friend he turns to Bucky “come on you can help me”

Bucky nods handing the photo frame back to Vis watching him place it back on to the hook Bucky follows him outside to the hallway where the girls were still arguing with each other.

“-well you slept with Frank” Wanda says with her hands on her hips.

“I did and it was fanbloodytastic” Y/n says back mirroring Wanda’s stance.

“Mom, dad stop arguing please” Nat said standing in the middle of the two.

“Girls come on you’re not setting a good example for Nat-“ Vis tries before being cut off by Y/n.

“Oh look who it is, the other woman”

“Y/n leave him alone-“

“No Wanda I won’t leave him alone, he’s your mistress. Didn’t think I’d find out? Babysitter you said babysitter my bum”

“Baby please he means nothing to me, I’ll stop seeing him I promise” at Wanda’s words Bucky’s eyes widen as he looks at Vision.

“It’s always like this, honestly” Vis whispered to Bucky “girls come on or your not getting pizza”

“This is the only time I’ll listen to your mistress Wanda.” Y/n takes Nat’s hand and walks into the apartment with Wanda following behind them.

“Is-are they always like that?”

“Pretty much they have several different life’s together, when they start pretending they’re aliens my advice would be for you to run”

As the night draw close they their goodbyes to the two couples the five of them head off home, Bucky took his jumper off and handed it to Y/n who accepted with a shy smile.

“I can’t believe it took so long for you to introduce us to them” Sam says trying and failing to walk in a straight line.

“You’re not even drunk so how are you all over the place Sam? And I know I’m sorry but I’m proud of you for behaving” Y/n says with her arm linked with Bucky’s.

“It’s the pathway, it’s not straight and I was good wasnt I? Do I still get cake?”

“I-what? Yeah you still get cake”

“You know it makes sense snowflake”

“Well this is me, thanks for inviting me tonight Y/n it really meant a lot” Sarah says standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to her house, after having her second son and her ex leaving them for some other woman Sarah had been staying home, raising her kids and never spending any time for herself. Y/n had got Sam to ask their parents if they could take the boys for the night so Sarah could spend some time with the group and obviously they agreed.

“You don’t need to thank me Sarah, come on I’ll walk you to your door like a gentleman” and that’s what she did, she walked Sarah to her front door and stayed to make sure she had locked the door. “Come on then fellas walk me home”

“Your such a kind gentleman Y/n”

“I know my parents raised me right Stevie”

Sticking his tongue out at her him and Sam walked a little bit in front leaving Bucky and Y/n arm in arm.

“So missy I found out something about you tonight and I’m quite shocked you didn’t tell me”

“What? Whatever they said I did I didn’t do it”

“I saw your mugshot”

“Oh yeah that well you know how tough this life is Ducky it’s hard out on the streets”

“You stole a plastic cow”

“Yep”

“Why?”

“We were making a statement”

“About? Who too?”

“Democracy”

“Democracy? You stole a cow for democracy?”

“Yes well no I don’t really remember why but I know that it was so frigging heavy!”

Bucky had never truly laughed so much in one night and it was all thanks to his Bunny.

“Buck…” Steve says in a hushed warning tone.

Before Bucky could reply his skin crawled.

“It’s the freak and her dogs”

Brock Fucking Rumlow.

“Shut up man and move out of the way” Sam says trying to move around the pair.

Brock looks at Sam eyeing him up and down before looking at Jack, calling Sam a racial slur he asked the man to his left “didn’t just tell me what to do did he?” Jack surprised everyone but Bucky by flinching at the slur.

“Yeah man he did” Jack stuttered.

“Freak come here so I can show you a good time, you know with my cock”

“Fuck off Brock” Bucky growls tightening his hold on Y/n’s arm.

“Mad that I took your first bitch now I’m about to take your second one?” Brock goaded.

“Man you really need to grow up, it’s really sad that you’re still acting like you did in school” Sam says before Bucky could.

“I swear to god da-“

“Finish that word and I will punch you” shocking everyone Y/n practically growled.

“Yeah of course you will freak”

“Do it and let’s find out”

Brock looked at Jack with a grin not like Jack responded as he kept his eyes on the ground.

“Alright freak, d-“

A deafening crunch echos through the quiet streets shortly followed by Brock screaming.

Y/n moved out of Bucky’s arm so quick he didn’t even notice but he definitely noticed Y/n pulling her arm back before punching Brock straight in his face, connecting and breaking his nose.

Brock fell to the ground clutching his nose in his hands, Y/n knelt down leaning one knee on his stomach “let’s not be messing with the freaks friends again, okay. That’s a good little rock”

Standing up she looked at Jack who just gave her a short nod she looked the boys and smiled “let’s go fellas”

“Holy shit Y/n!” Steve chuckled.

“Have I ever told you I love you?” Sam asks stepping over Brock as he still lays on the ground.

“Bun…”

“Come on I want to go home” as they go around the corner and walk away from the two guys who never seemed to have grown up Steve and Sam reenact the scene. Y/n stopped short and shook her hand out “ow ow ow this really hurts I-I think it’s broken, oh my god he’s going to kill me if he sees me again! Why did you lot let me punch him?”

“Bunny calm down pass me your hand”

“Calm down? Calm down Ducky? I’ve broke my frigging smegging hand and I’m going to be killed, murdered! And you’re telling me to calm down!”

“I’m trying so hard not to laugh right now but you’re not going to be killed just come here so I can check your hand” Bucky holds his hand out so he could see hers.

Complying with his order she puts her hand in his flinching when he touched her fingers.

“Mother trucker!” She mutters out through clenched teeth.

“It’s not broken or fractured, it was a hard punch you did there Bun”

“Ducky my hands practically hanging off”

“No it’s not” rolling his eyes at her dramatics.

“Y/n you didn’t have to do that you know, I’ve heard worse I’m use to it” Sam says earnestly feeling bad she hurt her hand in defending him.

“Well you shouldn’t Sam, so what if your black that doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated any less than a white person and I love you Sammy so I’m-ouchy this frigging stings-not going to stand by and let him call you that word”

“Y/n…I-fuck your my favourite person in this world”

“Did it take me punching Brock for you to realise that?”

“Pretty much” Sam winked still feeling bad about her hand.

“Rude-holy sugar balls Bucky stop touching my very serious wound”

“Y/n you’re twenty one you can swear you know” Steve says stifling his laughter with the different words she comes out with instead of just simply swearing.

“I-I can’t…momma said it’s bad”

“If we promise that we won’t tell your mom that you swore will you just do it? Because sorry Bunny I kind of lied to you” Bucky tells her nodding to Steve and Sam who nod in promise.

“Wha-what do you mean you lied?”

“You’ve dislocated your finger, I need to put it back into place”

“Oh I think I’m going to pass out. Okay-okay I can do this…promise you won’t tell momma I swore?” All three promise “okay let’s do this, Sam do the count down and Steve hold my hand and Ducky you perform the operation”

“You’re so dramatic but okay”

“3…2…1”

“Fuck-shit-dick-cunt-bastard-bitch-why are you laughing?”

“Because I haven’t even done it yet, now I have”

“Holy sugar plum fairy…that didn’t hurt, why didn’t that hurt?”

“Because you’re super strong” he winked.

“Proud of you Y/n and who knew you had such a potty mouth” Steve laughed placing his hands in his pockets.

“I know I shock myself with it too”

“Hey um didn’t any of you notice Jacks reaction to Brock’s slur?” Sam wondered if he was seeing things or if he saw what he saw.

“Yeah, he seemed uncomfortable by it” Steve agreed, Y/n nodded her head in agreement with the blonde.

“Well I actually know why…”

“Bucko you can’t say you know but then trail off man”

“I was trying to build suspense, it’s because he’s dating Angela you know from school?”

“How do you know?”

“Her sister is friends with Rebecca and apparently their parents aren’t happy she’s dating a guy who’s best friend is Brock, doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is”

“Angela could do so so so much better, did she bang her head or something?” Y/n asked, she remembered Angela from her maths class and stood by her statement. Angela was also the first female black student at the school.

“Probably” Bucky laughed “but yeah so that’s why he didn’t say anything”

“Anyway let’s go home now I’m cold and tired and I’m pretty sure my hands going to fall off.”

Heading to Y/n’s apartment Bucky walked her up whilst the other two stayed outside, just like Y/n did with Sarah he waited outside her door to hear the locks before heading back downstairs.

“You need to tell her man” Sam yawns as the long day started to catch up to him.

“I know…” he sighs falling into step with Steve none of them noticing Brock standing on the corner of the street.

Settling herself on the firm yet pillowy mattress and pulling her thick quilt over her after doing her night time routine she let the warmth of her apartment help her to drift off to sleep.

Her peaceful slumber was disturbed slightly by a noise coming from somewhere inside of her apartment thinking it was a pipe settling like normally she didn’t bother opening her eyes, pulling her quilt further up.

Her entire body tensed up when a hand was placed over her mouth she started so squirm, eyes shooting open and widening at the dark figure standing over her.

“Stop moving you stupid bitch” Brock’s low voice shattered the silence. “Here’s what’s going to happen you’re going to lie here and take my cock just like a dumb good little freak that you are and I might just let you off for putting your hands on me earlier”

Squirming even more panic rises more and more at the prospect of him destroying her in the worst possible way.

Brock pulls back her quilt licking his lips at the sight of her bare legs as she was just in her shorts and a jumper. “I’m going to love taking my time with you, a second bitch I’ve taken from James fucking Barnes. Stop moving your just going to make it worse for yourself”

Climbing into the bed and over her he struggled trying to pull her shorts down with his free hand as he still had his other hand over her mouth.

“Aw I love your cute little panties”

Thrashing more violently now that he had managed to successfully get her shorts down she manages to jolt him slightly, the moment he started to unbuckle his belt she had gained some form of superhuman strength as she managed to knock him off her. Once freed she scrambles off the bed and towards the door.

“You fucking bitch, if you want to play let’s play”

Running out of the door her long hair gets yanked backwards making her fall into Brock, ramming her arm back she hits him in the stomach. “Stop struggling freak”

“Get the fuck off me! Someone help!” She screamed trying to get away from him.

During the struggle somehow they ended on the floor Brock sits heavily on her back reaching out to grab one of her hands he twists it painfully behind her and uses the other hand to pull her head up by her hair to just to start smacking her head off the floor.

Screams echoed throughout her apartment the overbearing pain soaring through her body she doesn’t register her door come flying open or that there was police officers pointing their guns at Brock.

Falling into the darkness she doesn’t register a gun firing.

The beeping off the machine had her raising her hand as she tried weakly to wave it around to try and turn off her alarm. Groaning when it wasn’t working so opened her eyes just to shut them straight away being blinded by the bright light she let out a deep groan.

“Y/n? Baby try not to move. Howard get the doctor”

“M-momma?” She croaked out swallowing thickly as her throat stung.

“It’s okay sweetheart your in the hospital”

“W-why?”

The sound of the door opening had her mother not responding “Hi Miss Stark could you please open your eyes for me?”

“No”

“How come?”

“I’m dead”

Howard chuckles in the background and a hitting sound shortly followed after “Howard” her mother hissed.

“Sorry” he whispers.

Opening her eyes slowly she looked straight for her dad and winked at him knowing she had gotten him in to trouble with Maria. “Hi Doc”

“Hi, I’m just going to run some tests and we’ll go from there”

The tests were done as the doctor told her what he was doing as he moved on to the next test. Her body ached something fierce, and when the doctor moved her arm she finally saw the cast that was on her arm.

“W-what happened to my arm?”

“It’s been broken angel” Howard answered hating to see her limb that way.

“Oh.”

“The police need to speak to you angel okay?”

“Okay”

Everything moved in slow motion after the doctor left happy with the results, two police officers came into the room after giving them her recounts of what happened that night she was shocked to discover that it had been five days since that night.

Her neighbour Ms Peters had been woken up to Y/n’s screams and had rang the police when they arrived they kicked in her door guns drawn as Brock wouldn’t comply with their orders.

Y/n’s heart rate dropped making the monitor go crazy when she heard the officer tell her that they had to shoot Brock.

Only in the shoulder but still.

“I-it’s all my fault” she stammered once the police had left with her statement.

“Angel don’t be silly, you did nothing wrong”

“I punched him dad!”

“Because he was making racial comments about Sam, Y/n you did nothing wrong I promise yo-“

As knock on the door interrupted the rest of his sentence.

“Can we see her now?” Bucky’s voice sounded through the door.

“Yes, they’ve been asking for nearly four hours” Maria tells Y/n chuckling when her daughter rolls her eyes.

“Come on darling we’ll go and get something to eat” pulling Howard out the room leaving Bucky and all her friends standing there.

“You all need to sign my cast” Y/n holds her arm up smiling

Breathing out of breath of relief Bucky was the first one to go over to her and gently placed his arms around her frame, placing a kiss upon her forehead then rested his against hers.

“Bun I was so scared when your dad rang me, are you alright? Are you in pain? Do you want me to get you some-“

“Ducky I’m fine honestly, I’ve got a cast”

“So I can see, are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m sure, my face hurts kind of hurts”

“It’s because it’s a mess” Wanda says as she rearranges the bouquet of flowers her and Vis had gotten her.

“Am I still pretty enough for you?” Y/n starts fixing her hair and batting her eyelashes.

“Yes-no-maybe”

“Are you going to divorce me now?”

“No my beaut-prett-my wife”

“Even in serious times like this you two can’t even be serious” Clint laughs letting go of Nat to make his way over to Y/n so he could give her a hug. “I’m glad your okay sunshine”

“Thanks Clint”

Making themselves at home in the hospital room a nurse had to come in twice to tell them they needed to be quiet and reminded them that it was a hospital and not a playground.

Visiting hours came to an end one by one her family gave her a hug and kisses to her cheek or forehead.

“Ducky”

“Bunny”

“C-can you stay with me? You don’t hav-“

“Of course Bun”

“I’ll tell the doctors that you’re staying son, I’ll see you both tomorrow” Howard says from the door as he was originally waiting for Bucky to say his goodbyes.

“Thanks sir” shaking his head at the title Bucky had called him he watched as the young man who his daughter was in love with take a seat next to her in the bed, waiting for the day to come when they realised they were in love with one another.

Waiting for the day to come that he’d be calling James Barnes his son in law.

Settling down in the semi comfortable bed with Bucky’s arms around her waist she breathed in the fading smell of his aftershave.

“Bun”

“Duck”

“I-I love you”

“I love you too”

The only sound coming from the room was the quiet beeping of the machines and the sound of their breathing mixed together.

“No Y/n I mean…I mean I’m in love with you, I’ve known since I was fourteen”

“I’m in love with you too James”

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher @hawkinsavclub1983 @onlyonetifosi @parisadams @unabashedstarlightcrown @nash-dara @allofffmypeaches @loki-laufeyson68 @behindmygreyeyes @missvelvetsstuff @pigeonmama @lizslibrary @gloriouspurpose01

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wongyuseokie · 1 month

Text

Stitches | l.sm

Summary: Seokmin is nothing if not the perfect boyfriend, so he decided to manscape a little to spice things up. Unfortunately, he wasn’t paying enough attention, and he’s been stitched up for a week. He’s determined not to let you in on why he’s rejecting your advances, but all it’s doing is making you think he’s not interested. Seokmin sees that you’re upset, but he just doesn’t know how to tell his girlfriend that he accidentally cut his penis and now has stitches in it.

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕ implied smut | ☁︎ mild angst | ♥ completed works

Word Count: 1486 words

Pairings: Lee Seokmin x Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: fluff, mild angst (but it's me so idk how long it’ll stay mild), new relationship au!

Content Warnings: mentions of razors, stitches and blood (nothing graphic). Mentions of food.

Smut Warnings: none, but just implied smut

Authors Note 1: thank you to my lovely seoksluts @the-boy-meets-evil @wooahaeproductions @highvern and @kwanisms for encouraging this <3 Taglist: @aaniag and @dkluvrsclub and @thegirlwhoimagined @ressonancee and @tomodachiii @bitchlessdino @onlyseokmins @gyuminusone because why not <3

“So, you’re telling me you have a cut on your dick?” Mingyu repeated as he wiped away the tears from his eyes. He had been laughing at Seokmin ever since he confided in Mingyu.

“Shut up, I was right. I should have gone to Jeonghan hyung,” Seokmin whined, and Mingyu laughed more at his comment.

“No, he’d probably upload your bleeding penis to the group chat,” Mingyu teased, making Seokmin throw a towel at Mingyu’s head.

“Can you help?” Seokmin pleaded.

“I think that Y/N would prefer to help you when it concerns your penis,” Mingyu joked, making Seokmin reach for the hairbrush on the bathroom counter to throw at Mingyu’s head.

“Okay, calm down. I’ll take you to the doctor, and after that, we’re going to discuss why you think throwing things in an argument is a solution,” Mingyu offered, earning a glare from Seokmin.

“Stop whining, it could be worse. You could, I don’t know, have severed your entire dick off. All you did was let a tiny little cut, which after a week will be fine,” Mingyu scolded as Seokmin went on his third meltdown of the day.

“What do I tell Y/N?” Seokmin wailed; he had been a mess after the doctor told him that he’d stitch up his cut, but he’d have to abstain from any activities that would exacerbate his cut–which included sex.

“Just tell her the truth?” Mingyu offered, confused, wondering why Seokmin couldn’t be honest with you, his girlfriend.

“No, she’s going to think I’m an idiot,” Seokmin mumbled.

“I think she already thinks that, ow!” Mingyu yelped as Seokmin smacked his head.

“Dude, it’s not that serious. Tell her you wanted to make your penis pretty and accidentally sliced a bit of it,” Mingyu suggested earning a glare from Seokmin.

“Or you could say that you wanted to attempt an “at-home” circumcision,” Mingyu joked, his suggestion earning another smack from Seokmin.

“No, I know what I’ll do. I’ll ignore her advances; it’s just for a week, and I’ll make it up with the best sex ever,” Seokmin said determinedly.

“Okay, first ew, second, don’t because you’ll ignore her, and she’ll think something’s wrong with her,” Mingyu warned.

“No, she won’t. She knows I think she’s perfect,” Seokmin argued.

“Okay, genius, you do what you think is best. Just try not to slice up your dick again. Besides, you could go to a salon, and they’ll manscape you nicely,” Mingyu teased, making Seokmin whine again and lie back down on the hospital bed.

“Baby! You’re home!” You exclaimed, running to greet your boyfriend, who held out a hand, stopping you from hugging him.

“Sorry, I'm sore. I fell during practice,” Seokmin lied, hoping you didn’t catch his tone. He was a terrible liar.

“Oh baby, should I get you something? Ice? Or maybe I can draw you up a warm bath to soothe your muscles?” You offered, and Seokmin shook his head furiously.

“No!” Seokmin yelped, confusing you.

“I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry,” Seokmin said, calmer, and you just shrugged.

“Well, I hope you’re not too sore for me to kiss you,” you asked, hopeful.

“Uh, no, I’m not,” Seokmin grinned.

You walked towards your boyfriend, and you were about to kiss him when he moved his face away. Your lips landed on his cheek.

“Seok?”

“You wanted a kiss, right?” Seokmin asked, grinning, and hoped you wouldn’t question him further.

“Yeah. I guess,” you mumbled.

“I’ll go change, and we can cuddle and watch a movie?” Seokmin offered, making you smile. That sounded more like your boyfriend.

“Sounds good.”

You both weren’t cuddling as you watched the movie. Seokmin had his hand on your thigh but still kept at least a couple of inches of space between you. You were confused, but you did want to cuddle him, so you reached out your arm. Before you could place it on Seokmin’s thigh, he inched away from you, yelping.

“What the hell?” You asked.

“Why are you touching me?” Seokmin asked, exasperated, hating how the words sounded and hating how your face fell after hearing his words.

“I just wanted to get a bit closer to you,” you mumbled, embarrassed.

“Well, I’m not always in the mood,” Seokmin said defensively.

“Well, you’re the one who suggested a movie and cuddles?” You argued.

“That doesn’t mean we need to be stuck together like glue; sometimes I don’t want you cuddling me,” Seokmin spoke quickly, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could even think.

“Oh,” you said quietly, looking at your hands.

“Baby, that's not what I meant,” Seokmin said, trying to backtrack. You looked up at him, shaking your head.

“No, it’s fine, um. I have some work to finish, so uh, I’ll catch you in a bit?” You said as you got up from the couch and walked off to the bedroom, not giving Seokmin a chance to speak and stop you.

Later that night, you decided you’d get ready for bed without Seokmin, even though you two liked doing your night routine together. You figured he needed space, so you gave him just that.

“Baby?” Seokmin called out, and you pretended to be asleep. You felt the bed dip as he lay down next to you.

“I’m sorry,” Seokmin mumbled as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You placed your hand over his.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, turning to face him. This made Seokmin gasp and inch away.

“What the hell, Seok?” You asked, now annoyed.

“Baby, it’s just that I need to keep my distance from you right now,” Seokmin admitted, and you glared at him.

“Fine, keep your distance,” you huffed, grabbing your pillow and heading to the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” Seokmin asked.

“The guest room. I don’t know what is wrong with you right now, but you’re not making me feel very wanted, and since you want space, I’ll give you space,” you ranted, walking out of the bedroom and slamming the door behind you.

Seokmin knew better than to follow you, but he knew he needed to fix this. He grabbed his phone and started texting Mingyu.

The following morning, you decided to ignore Seokmin until he told you why he was behaving so funny, and while it was incredibly petty of you to do so, you were hurt.

You emerged from the guest room after you took a shower, and the only thing you could find to wear was one of Seokmin’s shirts since you were determined not to go into your bedroom. You pouted, put his shirt on, stepped outside and made your way to the kitchen.

“Baby!” Seokmin greeted, and you saw a lavish breakfast spread on the kitchen island.

“What’s all this?” You asked, gesturing to the food.

“This is my attempt at apologising for my atrocious behaviour last night,” Seokmin mumbled, looking like a sad puppy. You let out a giggle, sat on one of the high chairs next to the island, and took a strawberry and bit into it.

“Why are you laughing?” Seokmin asked.

“I wouldn’t call your behaviour ‘atrocious’ just odd,” you said with a grin and patted the seat next to you.

“So why were you so skittish?”

“Don’t laugh, okay?” Seokmin pleaded, and you nodded, allowing him to continue.

“I wanted to, uh, I guess, groom myself a bit. I think the term is manscaping, and I got distracted and accidentally nicked my penis, and I had to get stitches, and I can’t do anything for a week,” Seokmin explained quickly, and you pressed your lips together to try and not laugh.

“Hey, you said you wouldn’t laugh,” Seokmin whined, and you giggled and placed your arms around his neck.

“Oh, my sweet baby, why did you think you needed trimming?” You asked, placing a kiss on his cheek and making him smile.

“I don’t know to make my penis more appealing.”

You let out a laugh pulled away, and placed your hands on Seokmin’s pouty face.

“Baby, I think you have the prettiest dick in the entire world. I’ll yell it from the rooftops if I need to,” you comforted him, making him smile at you.

“You’d yell it?” Seokmin asked.

“Yes, baby, I understand, and I respect that. You can always be honest with me. I’ll never judge that,” you explained further, and Seokmin pouted as he nodded.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Seokmin apologised.

“It’s okay. Can you at least give me a proper kiss?” You asked, and Seokmin nodded. He leaned forward and captured your lips in the softest kiss ever.

“Mm, 100 more of those today, and you’re forgiven,” you offered.

“Done!”

“Uh, babe, what would you yell about my dick?” Seokmin asked as he walked away to fix you a plate.

“Oh, simple, I'd say that Seokmin has a very nice DK.”

#seventeen fic #seokmin fic #dokyeom fic #svthub #kvanity #stitches: l.s.m

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rose-tinted-glasses671 · 11 months

Text

Let The Light In

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem reader

warnings: mentions of abuse and human trafficking

summary: your husband is finally back home from a mission, but he's brought home a little girl, and he's struggling with what he saw.

word count: 3356

read pt.2

a/n: This is my first attempt at a fanfic but im excited about this. The idea came from one of my many pre-sleep scenarios that i had a strong desire to put on paper. Also, I wrote simon to not be emotionally closed off because: a) thats how i imagine he would be and b) i love an emotionally mature man. okay thats it. enjoy!

You had been preparing yourself a glass of ice water before bed when you heard the beeping of the electronic keypad from your front door. There was only one person besides you who could unlock the high-tech security system that secured your house: Simon. A flood of excitement rushed through you as you put your glass down and ran to the front door, giddy with happiness at your husband’s arrival. You knew he was due back home soon, but as it usually went with military deployments, the dates were always tentative.

But, to your surprise, when the door opened, you didn’t just see your hulking, 6’4 husband at the door, but also a little girl, no older than maybe seven years. Your eyes bounced between the two as you saw Simon guide the girl through the door; the little girl who looked terrified out of her mind as her eyes darted around the dark entryway. As she began to cower away from the darkness, Simon turned on the light that illuminated the foyer, finally bringing you into his view.

His eyes jumped to you in an instant, an intense melancholy and fatigue written all over his face. That’s also when you heard a faint sniffle from the little girl, and when you looked down, your heart broke at the sight of her. Bruises littered her arms and legs, all in different stages of healing, along with countless cuts, scars, and what looked like cigarette burn marks. She had on tattered clothes and shoes, but what really sent you over the edge was the black eye that marred her right eye.

Both your motherly instincts and your doctor training kicked into overdrive. Being five-months pregnant was putting you into protective mama bear mode, and your ER doctor training was telling you to get this girl to a hospital to see if she had any broken bones or internal bleeding. Ultimately, you took a deep breath and decided the girl just needs to feel safe right now.

“Hi there,” you chirped, slowly approaching the little girl, cautious of the fact that she was extremely scared and was thus probably sensitive to sudden gestures. The girl brought her gaze up off the floor to look at you, distrust and fear still evident in her eyes. You then introduced yourself to her, but when you asked for her name, she remained quiet.

“She hasn’t spoken since we rescued her,” Simon spoke up for the first time. “It’s gonna take the boys a while to find her family without her name, so I thought…” That she’d be safe with us tonight.

You nodded before asking, “Did the medic check her out?”

“Just barely, once we got onto the plane,” Simon replied. “I came here as soon as we landed back at base.”

“Okay,” you said, finally turning your attention back to the girl. You got down to her eye-level so as not to make her feel anymore threatened. “How ‘bout I make you a nice PB&J, and then we can get you cleaned up and into a fresh pair of pajamas?” you asked, keeping your tone light and how you usually did with your younger patients.

The girl continued looking at you, but remained silent. After a moment, you asked, “What if I brought the food to you here?”

The tense line of the girl’s shoulders relaxed a little, and some of the tightness in her face dissipated. You took that as a confirmation and smiled softly, nodding your head again.

“Stay with her,” you said to Simon, before rushing into the kitchen and hastily putting together the sandwich. With a plate of food and a glass of water in your hands, you went back to the foyer, both Simon and the girl standing in the exact same place as where you’d left them. You handed the girl her food and placed the water next to her, letting her get comfortable and do things at her own pace.

You thought in the meantime you could speak with Simon, but when you turned your head, he wasn’t in the foyer anymore. Not wanting to leave the girl alone, you stayed with her as she ate, continuing to talk to her in the hopes of making her feel safer and more comfortable.

The girl ate slowly, taking big gulps of water in between bites, and your heart continued to break at her timidness, not daring to think of the kind of atrocities she’d probably had to face in her short life.

After a while, with food in her belly and her thirst quenched, the girl finally gave you a small smile, letting you take her upstairs. You prepared a warm bath for her in the guest bathroom, putting in salts and adding in bubbles so that she could soak her bruises and maybe get some relief for the night.

You had some of your niece’s clothes in the dresser, and although she was a bit older than this little girl, the oversized pajamas would have to do for tonight. You’d go get her some new clothes first thing in the morning.

“I’ve left a towel and some clothes for you on the counter here once you’re done,” you instructed the girl, placing the items next to the sink for her to see. She nodded, and you turned to leave so she could get to it, but then she pulled on your shirtsleeve. When you turned back to her, she was pointing to the spot in front of the bathroom door, small grunts leaving her throat as she tried to voice something to you.

Initially, you didn’t get what she was saying, thinking she was trying to point something out to you that you didn’t see. But when understanding dawned, your heart melted a little. “You want me to wait out there for you?” you asked.

The girl’s eyes lit up as she furiously nodded her head, and you chuckled, happy that you were able to gain just a little bit of her trust. You went and stood in the spot the girl indicated, and she closed the door behind her, though not all the way, leaving it slightly ajar.

You went and rested on the chair in the corner of the room, your feet starting to get sore as they tended to at this point in your pregnancy.

Time passed sluggishly as you scrolled on your phone, the minutes blending together and a wicked tiredness engulfing you from head to toe. You didn’t want to leave the room in case the girl needed something, so you slowly started dozing off in the chair when you finally heard the squeak of the bathroom door. You looked up to the see the girl walking out, her head swiveling and catching sight of you. She approached you with a hairbrush in her hands and the legs of the pajama bottoms dragging behind her.

“Let me fix those for you,” you said as you bent down and cuffed the pants to fit the girl better. Once you did so, she handed you the hairbrush, silently asking you to detangle her hair for her. It was going to be a feat because a lot of her hair was matted, and you knew you were going to have to be very gentle. The girl turned around and you thought she was going to sit on the floor in front of you, but instead she planted herself on your lap. A rush of warmth and affection flooded your body, the immense need to protect the girl overtaking your senses.

While you were brushing her hair, the girl looked around the room, familiarizing herself with her surroundings. When her eyes landed on the stack of magazines on the side table next to you, she froze, and then abruptly stood up, startling you.

“I’m not done-“ you began, but then saw that the girl was pointing at the magazine on the top of the stack.

“Oh that’s a magazine. My favorite one, actually ” you said in reference to the old issue of Harper’s Bazaar she was pointing at. But then the girl started aggressively tapping the cover, so you leaned in closer to get a better look and saw that she was specifically pointing at Harper’s.

“Is your name Harper?”

She aggressively nodded again, in the way she does when you understand what she’s saying.

You finally had her name, and you felt much better now that you knew the girl was feeling comfortable enough to tell it to you.

“Harper,” you said, and she beamed up at you, her smile brighter than any other she had given you tonight.

With this happy revelation, you finished brushing Harper’s hair and then finally tucked her into bed. The poor girl was so exhausted that she passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

You closed the door behind you with a soft thud as you left the room. As happy as you were with the progress you’d made with Harper, you were equally concerned for your husband. Obviously, what he’d seen had affected him, and all you wanted was to be there for him, but you and Simon both knew Harper took precedence in this situation.

Every second Simon spent looking at the girl sent him into a spiral of unspeakable sadness and anger. He knew that the little girl’s captives were dead, and that they couldn’t bring her anymore harm, but that didn’t lessen the red that clouded his vision, or dull the melancholy he felt.

Simon had to leave the room as soon as he saw the girl was safe and being cared for by you. Of course, he felt bad leaving his pregnant wife to look after a little girl he had just brought into their house, but he was spiraling and he didn’t know what to do.

Blindly, he went to the alcohol bar in the corner of the living room and grabbed his favorite bottle of Bourbon and a rocks glass. He poured himself two fingers of the liquor, breaking the promise he made to himself to not drink while you were pregnant. He was abstaining as an act of solidarity since he knew how much you missed your wine, but these circumstances called for a little bit of medicine.

Simon then found himself pouring another two fingers of the liquid, and then another, before deciding to cool it—albeit with much difficulty. He couldn’t leave you caring for a little girl and an inebriated husband.

He couldn’t understand what compelled him to bring the girl home with him, why her appearance and disposition brought him so much anguish. Except he did; he understood that he saw so much of the broken boy he used to be in that little girl. It made him want to throw up.

The moment Simon laid eyes on the bruised and battered girl in that shit hole of a basement, he was transported back to his childhood. Visions of belts and fists and blacks and blues clouded his mind like a thick fog on a summer morning.

Simon’s teammates tried talking to him, noticing his sudden change in demeanor, but to no avail. The world around him was buzzing, almost like the TV static of an old CRT. And he craved nothing more than to fall into the void of numbness.

“Simon?” Your voice broke through the darkness of his mind as you came to stand in front of him, soft and careful and just what he needed to hear. Your hand came up to rest on his cheek, and just that simple touch gave him a world of comfort. He leaned into your palm, bringing his hands up to your hips and gently tugging you towards him until you were straddling his seated form.

Simon knew that you were the only person in the world who could keep him grounded in the present, bring him back from the scariest depths of his wretched mind, and so tonight he was going to be selfish and take all the comfort that you’d be willing to give him.

Feeling a tightness in his throat and a stinging in his nose, Simon brought you impossibly closer and buried his face in your neck.

You held your husband, feeling his body shake as he was wracked with silent sobs. Simon wasn’t one to hold back how he was feeling from you—you both had worked too hard on communicating your emotions to each other for all that to be taken back now—but you had only ever seen him cry once before: the day you got married. And that too was only a single tear before he composed himself.

“You wanna tell me what you’re feeling?” you asked gently, letting him know you’re here to talk without making him feel pressured to do so.

When Simon continued to just hold you, you didn’t press the matter, presuming he didn’t want to discuss it right now. But eventually, he sat back, keeping a firm hold on your waist while finally bringing his blood-shot eyes to you.

“When we raided those houses tonight, the last thing I expected was to find little girls and boys chained up in a decrepit basement like rabid animals,” Simon began, a profound sadness lingering in his eyes as he gazed away, lost in the memory of the night before. “The mission was supposed to be a simple bust, something with illegal weapons.” He shook his head. “But human trafficking?”

It sickened Simon to think of all the other operations they were probably running that would take him months, if not years, to bust.

“When I saw the girl,” Simon continued, talking about Harper, “For a second…I saw myself in her. She was the most severely injured out of all the kids, and somehow, I just knew it was because she had been fighting her captives tooth and nail.”

He then shook his head again with a scoff. “I don’t know…I just had this visceral need to protect her.”

You didn’t try to analyze Simon’s feelings, because that wasn’t your job. You weren’t his therapist, you were his wife. So you nodded in understanding and brought your arms around him again, resting your cheek on the crown of his head.

“You did the right thing bringing Harper here while they look for her family. She could use a stable environment right now,” you said.

“Harper? Is that her name?” Simon questioned, and you beamed down at him.

“Yeah, she told me upstairs.”

“She spoke to you?”

You shook your head no. “Pointed to an old issue of Harper’s Bazaar I had laying out,” you chuckled.

“Hmm.”

You watched as Simon got lost in his head again.

“Listen to me,” you said, bringing his attention back to you. “Harper’s safe now. She’s here, and we’ll take care of her for as long as needed before she goes back to her family.” You took Simons hands, which were still holding your waist, and brought them to your front, interlocking your fingers with his. “She has been through something traumatic. And it will take time, but she will bounce back. I can see the fight in her.”

Simon contemplated your words, thinking back to the fight Harper had put up when he tried to help her, thinking he was another bad man trying to hurt her. She had cowered at the sight of him, especially scared because of the skull plate mask he wore. At that understanding, he took it off, and explained to her gently that they were there to save her. She had reluctantly accepted help, though not from him. A female sergeant had interjected and further calmed her down, gaining enough of her trust to get her to the evac plane.

Harper was jumpy and sensitive to the loud noises around her, living in a perpetual state of fear until he brought her to you. He knew if anyone could give her the care she needed, it was his wife.

“Maybe,” Simon mused. “It’s not that I don’t think she’ll be fine, it’s that the road there is unfathomably difficult and just as equally traumatizing.”

You nodded your head, knowing Simon was speaking from experience. You wouldn’t diminish his past by pretending that you understood what he was going through. You just had to pull him out of this downward spiral.

“That’s why having a support system is so important. And she’ll have that in us for as long as is allowed,” you said.

You smoothed a thumb across Simon’s cheek, pained at the anguish radiating off him in waves. You’d never seen him like this before, but you would do everything in your power to provide him solace.

And Simon noticed, saw how much you reassured him and tried to give some peace of mind with small touches and understanding glances.

After weeks away from you, and especially after the events of the day before, he needed to kiss you, to feel the physical connection. It was gentle at first, just a soft brush of his lips against yours. But it morphed into something deeper at your small moans and whimpers.

Oh, how Simon loved the noises you made for him, and he’d die before he let them be someone else’s. He’d die before he let you go.

“I love you,” Simon whispered as he slightly pulled away, grazing his thumb across your now swollen bottom lip. The love Simon had for you was beyond what regular words had the capacity to explain, and to sic the English language on it would be a disservice. But he made do with the simplest ones, hoping you felt the power lying underneath them.

You smiled, knowing that he didn’t have to say it for you to feel it. There wasn’t a time in your years together where you didn’t feel loved by him. You could see it in the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, at the possessive way he held you at any given moment, by the tone of his voice when he talked to you.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back.

You spent the next couple of hours just talking, updating him on everything he missed during his absence. Work drama, doctor’s visits, an impromptu trip you took with your sister when you were feeling lonely. Everything you both could talk about, you did talk about.

These were your favorite moments with him, the quiet nights where you could just enjoy each other’s presence. You could move to the ends of the earth with Simon, the freezing tundra or the blazing desert, and they would still feel like home as long as he was with you.

After a while, when your eyes got droopy and frequent yawns interrupted your conversation, Simon gathered you up in his arms and took you to bed.

He desperately wanted to fuck you, feel that ultimate connection with you, but he saw that you were too tired for all that. This pregnancy was taking its toll on you, and he regretted the times he couldn’t be there to help you through it.

“Life’s too short to have regrets,” you had told Simon before he went on his most recent mission, after he had voiced his remorse at not being with you at your most vulnerable. You had been sad about his departure—you never stopped being sad—especially because you’d been blessed in that he hadn’t been deployed for most of your pregnancy. But such was the life of a military wife, having to see your spouse leave to go on dangerous missions and wondering if those were your last moments together.

Those kinds of thoughts weren’t worth your brain-space, you told yourself. But your anxiety made that hard.

Nonetheless, you thanked your lucky stars that Simon was back with you now, tightly holding onto him in bed.

You went on to sleep peacefully, feeling Simon’s protective body curled around yours. And although sleep usually eluded him, tonight, Simon finally got a good night’s rest with you in his embrace.

#simon riley #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod #mw2 #pregnancy drabble #x female reader

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adventuringblind · 8 months

Text

I See Your Smile

(Part two of I see your beauty)

Charles Leclerc x blind!Verstappen!reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, FLUFF

Request: no but they are open!!

Summary: after the events with Jos, Charles makes it a point to make sure he helps you see everything Jos didn’t let you

Warnings: mentions of verbal and physical abuse, car accidents, drinking and driving, zero proofreading

Notes: written in third person

Masterlist

It had been a miracle when Jos started leaving her alone. She finally got some reprieve. She was able to build up her confidence due to the lack of constant insults.

This was thanks to Charles. He’d practically forced her to move in with him. Immediately after the events in the Redbull garage, Charles and Max were quick to move her out of there and make some security adjustments.

The lovely bruise on her forehead was still healing. The force Jos had used to throw the phone and given her some lovely damage. As if the emotional damage wasn’t enough.

Jos wasn’t allowed back into the paddock. Security had been made aware of what happened and that he was now prohibited from entering. For both hers and Max’s safety.

Victoria had flown down to see them both that same day. The youngest having called her to explain what happened. She filled her siblings to Monaco to help them move Y/N into Charles’ apartment.

She’d been here before. Often going back and forth between Charles and Max over the breaks. Max was just glad he was close by and could still be the overprotective big brother.

One she frequently got annoyed with.

Charles spent time trying to help her be in a better place. She spent time letting him rant about his teams poor strategy and lack of listening skills.

The blindness was obviously where she struggled. Always feeling dependent on others. Her dad had made her feel like she couldn't be blind and that it's something to despise about herself.

He'd told her it was her fault. That she was cursed. Maybe even diseased. A failure.

He pushed her to do more even though it was dangerous.

The instilled recklessness was probably the scariest thing for Charles. She was prone to doing things on her own that she had even said were dangerous.

She went walking without her cane one night to grab something from the store last minute. Charles had been in a meeting all day and passed out as soon as he got home. His attempt at dragging her to bed with him was futile.

She didn't think anything about the walk. She knew her way to the convenience store. She'd pratically memorized every step.

Night was more difficult because even with the vision she had left, she couldn't rely on it. But still she tried. Her determination to be independent and not wake-up Charles was willing her down the sidewalk.

Nightlife, however, can be a scary thing. Cars and drivers are unpredictable. People still haven't learned their lesson about drinking and driving

She came to the crosswalk. A four-way stop that was often busy during the day. She listened for any cars, only hearing one speeding in the distance. She started to cross after deeming it safe.

The car had sounded so far away. Sure, it was speeding, but how could it have gotten to her so fast? She was so close to the other side. So, the safety of the sidewalk.

She was standing, and then she was on the ground. Ears ringing and head aching.

A man got out of the car and started trying to see if she was okay. His words slurred, and the potent smell of alcohol dripped from his breath.

She was trying to figure out her surroundings. The bringt headlights and dark spots now render her entirely without vision.

Onlookers saw and called the authorities. It didn't take long for someone to arrive and help her back to safety. Her anxiety was settling now that she was no longer feeling her way around the street.

She didn't want to go to the hospital. She'd hated it ever since her dad basically left her their alone. Her brain struggling to seperate the two events.

She needed Charles.

They were doing the usual tests, trying to find any damage that had been done. Her tears silent as they worked.

The doctors were nice and gentle with her. They could tell she was uncomfortable and probably in pain.

Her phone had been shattered again. Charles had just purchased her a new one not that long ago.

The nurse was trying to call Charles or Max. Whichever one picked up first.

Seeing as Max is a night person, it ended up being him. He rushed out of the house, explaining to Kelly on the way out what happened.

Charles was awoken by the sound of banging at the front door. He shot out of bed dazed. He hadn't realized how long he slept for.

He checked his phone. It was now was 10 p.m. and he had several missed calls and a text.

A text from her saying that she had gone to get something from the store. His stomach dropped. He hated when she walked alone in the dark. But maybe she was at the door and needed him to let her in.

He rushed to the front of the apartment and swung the door open. It wasn't who he was expecting, though. Max was standing their out of breath. His clothes disheveled.

"Y/N is at the hospital."

Max drove them both. They were doing their best not to panic, but it was obvious.

Max had explained what had happened. She was thankfully not hurt too bad. But the nurse said she kept crying and saying she was fine. Even trying to leave before they were done.

Max knew why. She'd hated hospitals after the incident. He hated watching her cry every time they went for a doctors appointment.

When they arrived, the nurse brought them straight back to her. Charles almost broke at the sight of her curled up in the bed.

Max was getting the rundown of what happened. A lovely broken rib. A sprained wrist. A concussion from hitting her head on the concrete. He told Charles to be gentle with her, then left to sign some papers and get the pain meds they were sending her home with.

Charles sat on the edge of her bed. Gently stroking her leg. The gesture a small comfort to her.

"I'm sorry. I promise it's fine. I know it's my fault." She sniffles.

Charles was going to throw hands with Jos if he ever saw him again. "Mon Chère, don't apologize for this. The driver was to blame."

She moved to fave more towards him. Moving her hand into his. Letting her read him through his gestures.

"It was dangerous, though. I would have driven you."

She frowned. He was so concerned for her. It felt strange in comparison to how she was raised. "I didn't want to bother you... or look dependent and incapable."

"You will never have to worry about that with me."

He lifted her knuckles to his mouth and gave them a gentle kiss. The gesture causing her to smile ever so slightly.

"I love when you smile."

Safety became less of a problem after that. Charles had made it a priority. It became second nature after a while.

Next on the list was her confidence. It was absolutely ridiculous what what Jos had made her believe.

The older man was still doing it now. After she blocks his number, he'd get a new one. The man is crazy in Charles' eyes.

She was trying to cook one night. She'd become decent at it despite the limitations. Often using Charles to cut vegetables and not letting him do anything else.

This particular night, she'd received a call from her father. He'd heard about the accident from the news.

He shouted words at her through the phone. Asked if the times he made her walk across the track wasn't enough to teach her.

She spent the day crying after that.

Charles knew something happened when he returned to the apartment. She was trying to hide it, but the look in her eyes and determination to cook on her own told him everything he needed to know.

She was struggling. Her toes find every corner. Pans slip onto the floor. Is was catastrophic.

Eventually, she gave up. Finding the floor and letting the tears of hurt and frustration roll.

Charles sat down next to her and pulled her body into his. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked softly.

"He called again today. Said that I should have gotten hit by a car when he made me walk back and fourth on the track when Max was driving. I didn't tell Max because otherwise he would've stopped practice."

Charles ran his hand in circles around her back.

"Why am I so weak? Max and Victoria are so much more than I will ever be."

"No, hush. Don't say such things." He caressed her face with her hands. "You are the strongest person I know."

Charles peppers her face with kisses, making her giggle.

"What do you say we clean this up and go get pizza?"

Doctors appointments were always a struggle. Charles basically had to drag her by her teeth. Sometimes it took him and Max.

This was one of those times.

She was crying in the passenger seat of the car. Clutching the same stuffed animal she brought to every visit. It was something she learned to do after the accident. Jos had a habit of leaving her at the office and not picking her up until late at night. Her only comfort to soft toy.

When he would come pick her up, he would rant about how frustrating she is. Tell her all the cruel things he needed in order to make himself feel better.

Now that fear was evident. She didn’t want to be left at the place she hated most for hours. She didn’t want to be berated for something that wasn’t her fault.

Charles can see her eyes, glassed over and distant. He places a comforting hand on her knee as he drives.

She’d been like this since Max managed to coax her into the car. Charles was thankful he was still on call since he didn’t know how it was going to be while they were there.

It was a simple follow up after she was hit. It seemed easy enough. But he could understand her reaction. He adds it to the list of reasons he’s going wring Jos’ neck the next time he sees him.

They pulled into the parking lot and immediately her breath becomes uneven. “Please don’t leave me.” She pleads with him.

It hurts. His heart hurts for her. “I would never.”

They take it slowly. A nice leisurely stroll to the entrance. Charles is so focused on her that he doesn’t notice the familiar figure just outside the door.

Charles nearly chokes on his spit. Halting in his spot and confusing the girl on his arm. “Charles? Are you okay.”

It’s funny to him how she’s the one on the verge of a breakdown and yet she’s asking if he’s okay.

“Mon Amour, would your dad know your here by any chance?”

She thinks for a moment. “He used to get all the appointment reminders for me since he was usually driving. Maybe he got something like that? Why do you ask?”

He thought about not telling her. But he knew this was unavoidable. “Jos is standing in our path.” He stays calm for her. He can already feel her shaking.

He gets them back to the car and dials Max’s number. Begging that he picks up the phone.

“Please tell me everything is going okay.” Max knows though; he knows something is wrong.

“Jos is here.”

Max lets out an angry string of Dutch words. “I’ll be there in a few. See if they have a back door.”

They do. Charles takes the long way around to it and meets a nurse outside. “I’m so sorry about this.” He quickly apologizes.

Max spots them and jogs over. “Is there any chance we can stay out of the waiting room.” He asks the nurse.

She smiles sympathetically, Charles had explained everything to her but there was no other option.

So the three headed inside. Max finds the farthest spot away from the window and sits down followed by his sister and Charles. All of them waiting with their breaths held.

Her name is called a few minutes later. The same nurse from earlier coming to help her to the room.

She looks frantically at Charles and Max. “I’ll be right here when you’re done, mon amour.” Charles reassures. Then she walks away.

“I feel like an idiot.” Max sighs. His leg bouncing in anxiety.

“Why’s that.”

“I thought I changed everything over.”

“Don’t feel bad, it was an honest mistake and now we know and can fix it.” Charles tries to comfort the Dutch.

Somehow, they managed to sneak out the back way again. Effectively avoiding Jos. This time, I thought Charles dosent hesitate to drive by him. When the Dutch makes eye contact with him, Charles shoots him a smug look and a middle finger.

His laugh dosen't go unnoticed.

"I know I can't see much, but I saw the look on his face. It was the most hysterical look he's ever had." She can't stop laughing for majority of the way home.

"I'm glad you find it amusing. Seeing you smile about it is just so beautiful."

376 notes · View notes

blushweddinggowns · 1 year

Text

Steve was probably Dustin’s favorite person in the entire world, not that he would ever admit it out loud. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but it was a little embarrassing for his role model to be a dorky babysitter who worked for minimum wage with his chick-repeller best friend. And when he wasn’t with her, then he was with his brand new favorite metalhead. Neither were particularly helpful in the dating department.

Now if he was just allowed to add the bit where Steve was a fearless monster fighter with a heart of gold, then things would be a bit better, but certain government NDAs made that impossible. Dustin admired Steve just as much as he judged him, more so really. But all that admiration didn’t stop him from worrying.

There was something obviously wrong with Steve lately, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. At first, Dustin thought it was just Steve worrying over Eddie’s recovery, because he was a massive worrywart who still looked like he’d faint when Eddie did anything even slightly strenous. Though in his defense, Steve had been the one to drag Eddie out of the Upside Down and got to witness firsthand just how close to death he was. He barely left his side for those first few horrible days in the hospital, always touch and go, doctors constantly warning them to not expect him to wake up.

But Eddie recovered, has been recovered, for months now. He was back to his theatrical self, slipping into their friend group with ease. Especially when it came to Steve. Apparently having your life saved by someone fast tracked relationships by years. The two acted like they’d known each other since childhood, constantly together.

Steve went to pick him up? Eddie was already in the front seat. He went into the Family Video to bother him? Eddie was already chatting him up at the front counter. Showing up to bother Steve at his house after school? Half the time it was Eddie who answered the door, and the other half he was sprawled on the couch when Steve let him in.

Now Dustin wasn’t necessarily jealous of Eddie, but their relationship just confused him. At first, he was actually pretty happy about Steve having a new side kick, especially when Robin decided to drop the bomb that she was gay as hell and dating Vicky, effectively cutting the time she spent with Steve in half. Dustin knew that Steve got lonely easily, so he half expected that to restart his attempts at getting a girlfriend, but instead he just spent more and more time with Eddie. Which was fine. Weird, but fine. Or at least, it was.

But for the past week or so whatever was going on with Steve, shifted. Sure he was acting different before, he was striking out with almost any girl who talked to him and hadn’t been out on a date since forever , but Dustin wasn’t too worried about it, not when he knew he was happy.

Like, weirdly happy for someone who had the life Steve had. But now, Dustin could just tell something was bothering him, something that he refused to acknowledge. Steve had never been a good actor, ever since whatever happened, he’s just had this air of loneliness around him, just an aura of sadness that he was hiding behind the world’s fakest smile.

But Dustin couldn't figure out what it was. Nothing had changed! No fights with Robin that he knew of, and definitely none with Eddie. Steve’s face still lit up whenever he saw him, and Eddie wasn’t shy about draping himself all over Steve whenever he could. No one was that touchy feely if they were fighting with someone, so that was out.

Whatever it was, Dustin needed to get to the bottom of it, and he wasn’t the only one.

Besides El and Lucas, Steve was also Max’s favorite person. Somehow, a random twenty-year old with a beehive for hair became the closest thing she had to a functioning parent in her life. He was always looking out for her, whether it be taking her to and from physical therapy, dropping off groceries at the trailer on his way to Eddie’s, or even taking her freaking mom to AA, Steve was there.

So of course she noticed immediately when he was upset. At first she thought he got into it with Eddie or something. The two were basically attached at the hip nowadays, so if someone was going to piss him off, then it would probably be him. But they were acting the same as always, sickeningly sweet and bizarrely close for only being friends for half a year. Though on second thought, Max didn’t have much room to judge, considering how she considered Steve like a dad in under two.

Steve just drew people to him, with his stupid handsome face and good nature. He was always too busy worrying about other people, he never acknowledged when he needed support, so of course he just denied anything was wrong when Max asked.

“I’m fine, scout’s honor,” he had said the last time she tried, with the saddest puppy dog eyes ever. His face only ever brightened fully when Eddie was around, though Max had a feeling that was also an act, just a more curated one for Eddie’s watchful eyes. The guy was obsessed with Steve, but since he was always so nice, Max didn’t think to worry about it. Steve deserved someone who cared too much around.

Robin, obviously, knew what was wrong, but she was a steel trap when it came to Steve secrets. That was something Max actually loved about Robin, just not when it was used against her.

She had thought about asking Eddie, but decided against it. If her initial theory was right, then he was hiding something from him too, and hiding it harder. Or if she was wrong, she doubted he’d betray Steve’s trust for her. Not unless she caught him alone and really, really high.

That could stay as a back-up plan.

But for now, Dustin was going to be her best bet. Steve could pretty easily say no to them separately, but when they formed a unified front he always caved.

They were working with a hundred percent success rate when they got him alone, a power they didn’t take lightly. The two had agreed to save that tactic for only dire circumstances, they weren’t monsters afterall, but Max was going to count this as dire.

Dustin was pretty easy to convince, he was just as tired of Steve avoiding talking about it as she was. The two of them set up a plan in no time, Operation: What the fuck was wrong with Steve?

The immediate hurdle was separating Steve from his cronies, which left them with the single option of Friday night. Eddie had a drug deal, courtesy of Max’s admittingly, inappropriate eavesdropping, from the last time they took her to the doctor, pretending to listen to Kate Bush as Eddie promised him to be careful.

Robin was a different story, and there was a fifty percent chance she’d be there. And Robin was always on Steve’s side, even when he was obviously lying. But they had a plan for that too, one would distract her at the front door and the other would sneak in and coax Steve outside, feigning some kind of emotional emergency that required privacy, where they would then corner him in the woods.

Max had to admit that plans like this made her think Steve may have had a point to his “personal boundaries lectures”, but if he wasn’t so damn stubborn, then they wouldn't have to be so weird. They pulled up to his house on their bikes, no cars but Steve’s in the driveway.

“I’ll sneak through the back door, he usually doesn’t lock it.” Max said, hopping off her bike, “You deal with Robin, and if she’s not there just yell.”

“And if she is?”

“If she is, distract her for as long as possible, I’ll walkie you when I get him alone.”

Dustin nodded. Robin was easy enough to distract, and who knows, maybe they would get lucky and she wouldn't be there. He rang the front door bell, watching Max sneak off to the back in the corner of his eye.

Of course Robin was the one to answer the door, frowning immediately at the sight of Dustin, “Jeez kid, every hear of calling?”

Rude. But whatever. “Where’s Ste-”

“If you’re looking for Steve he isn’t here right now, okay?” she lied immeadlilty, obviously going with the first dumb thing that popped into her head. She looked angry and tired, which was mildly alarming. And super rude.

“If he isn’t here then why is his car? I know he wouldn’t let you drive it.” Dustin said, crossing his arms, “You gotta get better at lying Robin.”

She rolled her eyes, “He would so let me drive. I have a license now, remember? What do you even want, Henderson?”

“Well now I want to know why you’re lying.”

She sighed, pinching her nose in frustration, “Dustin, now just isn’t a good time okay? Come back tomorrow, he’s off in the afternoon anyway.”

“If something’s wrong with Steve then I should know about it! You realize I was his best friend before you, right?”

“Oh, as if!”

Getting into an argument over who was Steve’s true best friend was as good of a distraction as Max could ask for. Robin didn’t even notice her slink into the house, making her way into the living room with none the wiser.

She peered over the couch, heart immediately sinking at the sight of Steve laying down, red-eyed and sniffling. Her well curated plans flew out the window at the sight, and the question was out before she could even remember she was trying to be sneaky here, “Why are you crying?”

Steve nearly jumped ten feet in the air at the question, flailing off the couch at the sight of Max suddenly standing over him.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Steve gasped, pulling himself up from the floor.

She shrugged, casually moving to sit next to him, too concerned to be embarrassed over being caught, “You left the back door unlocked. Why are you crying?”

“I wasn’t crying!”

She rolled her eyes, “Then why were you crying? Was it Nancy again?” Max asked, lowering her voice, “Because I wouldn’t mind putting her in her place if she’s messing with you-”

Steve gave a shaky laugh at the barely veiled threat, oddly endeared despite the fact that she broke into his house, “It’s not Nancy. Jesus calm down.”

Steve turned to the entryway, calling after Robin, “Just let him in, Robs, the other one already snuck past you anyway.”

That was all the invitation Dustin needed to push past her, immediately frowning when he saw Steve. He turned to Robin, “Did you make him cry?”

“No, she didn’t-”

“Maybe a little.” Robin mumbled, interrupting him. She plopped next to Steve, dropping a comforting hand to his shoulder, “But my harshness is for his own good.”

Max sat on his other side, leaving Dustin to sit on the floor in front of him, “Can you just tell us what’s been going on with you already?” he sighed, playing with the carpet fibers, “You might be able to trick everyone else but not us. Right Max?”

“Right.” she agreed, “And if you tell us maybe we can help. Without making you cry.” she emphasized, giving Robin a mean look.

Steve groaned, rubbing at his face, “I’m fine, I swear! It’s just some dumb shit on my end.”

“Not really dumb…” Robin mumbled next to him, huffing when he elbowed her in the ribs to shut her up, “Babe, they’ve already resorted to breaking and entering, they’re gonna find out eventually anyway.”

Steve groaned, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling. This is not where he expected this night to go, but now his two favorite children were staring at him, all wide-eyed and concerned, he didn’t know how to say no to that. The little shits.

“Fine. I’ll tell you,” Steve sighed, completely giving in, again. He was really going to need a better boundaries speech soon, “But I'm telling you with the full expectation that you'll keep it to yourselves okay? And you won't freak out."

“We won’t freak out.” Both kids said in unison, despite the fact that they were very much internally freaking out over what he was about to say.

"Like seriously, I mean it.” he emphasized, “Remember how many times I've gotten the shit beat out of me for you before you pass judgment."

“And remember that I’m not afraid to hurt children if you cross him either,” Robin added, looking surprisingly threatening, enough to make them double down on the promise to be cool.

Satisfied, Steve went on, "Well…I'm like Robin, understand? Like…preference wise."

Dustin cocked his head at him, confused, “You mean you like girls? But we knew that?”

"He's gay dingus." Max answered for him, immediately catching on.

"Bi!" Robin piped up beside him, “He’s playing for both teams.”

Now that was unexpected, at least for Dustin. He stared at him, the shock evident on his face. He was only able to shake it off when he realized Steve was shrinking in on himself, anxiously waiting for him to say something.

“We love you anyway," Dustin blurted out, just knowing that Max felt the same way, "That’s like nothing. I was worried you were dying or something!"

Max nodded with him, “He’s right, like we won’t tell anyone but I know Lucas wouldn't care either. Or Eddie for that matter.”

Steve only flinched a tiny bit at that, which he was proud of. And honestly, the relief he was feeling was bigger than how bummed out he was about his other problem.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, a grin slowly growing on his face, “Like seriously, that’s a massive load off.”

"And what else?" Max pressed.

Steve ran a hand over his face, he should have known it wouldn’t be that easy to get them off his back, "What do you mean, what else?"

“There’s obviously something else, because you liking guys wouldn’t warrant a harsh lecture.”

Robin huffed, crossing her arms, "He just has bad taste in guys-”

“Dude!” Steve hissed. His face was going red from how hard he was rubbing at it, or maybe he was just that embarrassed.

“We won’t stop until we find out,” Dustin warned, “We’ll break in again if need be.”

Steve loved these kids, loved them enough to die for them, but god were they annoyingly persistent.

“Fine! Yes, there’s something else. Just don't be weird about it,” he insisted, “Like this is a me problem, a Steve only problem, so I don't need you two rugrats trying to go full vigilante for me or some shit, got it?"

They nodded, both knowing that they didn’t mean it.

“I…I kinda have a thing for Eddie. A very, very uninterested Eddie. Who did nothing wrong by the way,” he said, glaring at Robin hard enough to shut her mouth, swallowing whatever comment she was going to add, “It’s a really stupid crush that I need to get over, and that’s all. I swear.”

Max turned to Robin, “Is that true?”

She shrugged, “In essence, technically it’s true.”

That…that kinda made sense. Max was suddenly reminded of just how often the two of them were together, let alone how touchy feely. Now that it was pointed out to her, she felt kinda dumb for not realizing before. Those two were all over each other.

Dustin was even more surprised. At least now it made sense why Steve suddenly had an interest in DnD, but he was having a hard time seeing Steve the “Hair” Harrington, be thirsting after his nerdy Dungeon Master.

Or worse yet, why was his nerdy Dungeon Master not thirsting after Steve?

“Is he straight?” Dustin blurted out. He hadn’t ever thought about it before, but in hindsight Eddie almost never talked about dating, and when he did it was vague with no actual women being mentioned.

Robin cough-laughed next to Steve, “Oh ya, he’s real heterosexual. Straight boys are just known for calling their friends sweetheart-ow!”

Steve threw a pillow at her face, shutting her up before she could get going, “What he is or isn’t into is no one’s business but his own. I just know I’m not in the ‘is into’ category.”

“How do you know?” Max asked. Eddie could surely do a lot worse than Steve. And if Robin is right and he isn’t straight, who is he to think he could do better? Better than the man who literally saved his life. If anything Steve was out of Eddie’s league, not the other way around.

“I just do. And I really, really don’t want to talk about it anymore. So now you know. Now promise you won't be weird, alright? I’ll get over it. Like soon , I promise.”

He wrapped an arm around Max, and reached down to ruffle Dustin’s hair, a real smile on his face, the kind they both had really missed, “And besides, you two not giving a shit that I’m a fruit matters way more than any crush.”

“That’s such a lame way to put it.” Dustin whined, even though they were both preening internally. Of course, Steve could trust them. They’d love him no matter what, and at least now he knew that.

“Okay! Well now that you know, you can go now,” Robin stood, gesturing towards the door, “We have a conversation to finish over here.”

Steve groaned behind her, “Do we have to?”

“Yes we have to!”

“Well can I have a break at least?” Steve leaned over, grabbing his keys off the side table, “Drive them home for me and then I’ll suffer through your lecture in the morning.”

“But-”

He tossed her the keys, consequences be damned. If she crashed, she crashed, at least it will be legal now, “But if you have my car I won’t be able to avoid you that well will I?”

That appeased Robin enough to get her walking towards the door, “Then I’ll be back in the morning, Nine a.m. Sharp. ”

She turned to them, sticking her tongue out at Dustin, “Told you he’d let me drive it. Now let’s go.”

Dustin and Max exchanged looks, reluctant to leave when they were obviously missing a massive part of this story, but Steve was already shooing them out the door.

He waved at them from the stoop, a tired but sincere smile on his face as he watched them pile into the car. Even if his friends were beyond overbearing, it did feel better to talk about it. He just wished he didn’t have to put his petty problems on literal children.

He laid back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

He wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable, and honestly deserved, speech Robin was going to finish tomorrow, but at least he got her out in time before she had even more material to work with. He had never seen her turn so fast and so vindiciatavly against another person before. It made him feel like shit honestly, that Eddie was losing Robin as a friend for his own stupid ego. If she just knew him a little better, then she’d get it. Probably.

Maybe.

Eddie didn’t have a mean bone in his body, he would never fuck with Steve’s feelings on purpose. All of his jokes, all of the touching and nicknames were just how he showed affection. It isn’t his fault Steve read way too much into it, like a moron.

And okay, maybe two male best friends don’t call each other baby or sweetheart, but Robin called him babe, so it wasn’t that weird. And so what if they slept in the same bed together almost everyday? It was just helping each other out with nightmares, even if Eddie kissed the top of his head every night, it didn’t mean anything.

Or at least, now it didn’t.

“Seriously Nance? I’d rather die.”

He groaned, burying his face into the couch cushions at the thought. He was not going to cry again, he refused, but it was still so harsh. From someone who actually almost died, it was quite the fucking statement to make, and maybe Steve should just take it as the obvious no it was. He should be grateful he found out, and didn’t humiliate himself by declaring his everlasting love or some shit.

If he could go back in time and just not ask , then he wouldn't be here right now. He’d still be in ignorant bliss. But no, he just had to get Nancy Wheeler involved, the queen of reality. Though technically she had wanted to get involved, if nothing but to stop Steve from lamenting about it over the phone. Weirdly enough, distance had been great for their relationship, and now they were closer than ever, talking for hours whenever either needed to vent, Nancy about school or her failed relationship with Johnathan that she still wasn't over, and Steve, consistently, about his almost boyfriend, Eddie.

It had taken months for it to finally happen, but she was so sick of his pining, she had cracked, “I’m just going to ask him when I’m home next Steve, I swear to God.”

“No you will not. Nancy, that is so freaking highschool it isn’t even funny.”

“He was just in highschool, so it’s fitting. And then you can stop wasting your time whining about him and just make-out with him. Next weekend, I’m doing it, like it or not.”

He should have insisted on the no, but instead he went full highschool girl and went along with it. They met at her place, under the pretense of a small get-together while her parents were out of town. He left Eddie with her in the basement, pretending to go to the bathroom when he really stopped at the top of the stairs, eavesdropping as Nancy casually asked the questions he was too chicken-shit to do himself, “So, are you seeing anyone?”

Eddie had almost choked on his drink at that, “No? Why Wheeler, you interested? Because I doubt Johnathan or Steve would be too keen on that.”

Nancy rolled her eyes, “No offense Eddie, but you’re definitely not my type. And I don’t think I’m yours either . I don’t think any girl in Hawkins is.”

Eddie stared at her, gnawing on his lower lip, “Good guess. And if you happened to be right, then you can probably understand why I keep that part of my life on the down low.”

She nodded, “I’m not going to tell anyone, believe me. I was just curious if anyone had caught your eye.”

“In this town? No one. There are literally zero options.”

“Oh come on, Steve’s cute, there’s an option.”

He had laughed at that, loud and mean as he shook his head, “Me and Steve? Seriously Nance? I’d rather die .”

Steve wasn’t sure what he had expected to hear, but it definitely wasn’t that. It hurt, it hurt bad, which was stupid considering they were never together, or even close to it, outside of the wild leaps Steve had made in his head. The logic hadn’t stopped the tears from gathering in his eyes though.

Robin, in all of her ill-timed glory, decided that was the best moment for her to bust through the front door, calling loudly into the house. Steve scrambled to meet her, just in time to avoid Eddie seeing him spying like a creep. It had been a terrible fucking night, but at least Nancy was kind enough to lie about her parents coming home early so Steve could sulk at home in peace. She had apologized to him at least ten times since then, and had jumped straight onto the Eddie hate-train with Robin pretty soon after. They had both been so sure that he felt the same way, they channeled all their disappointment into rage, at someone who really didn’t deserve it.

Steve shouldn’t have told Robin what happened, wouldn’t have if he’d known she’d be so insane about the whole thing. Even if she had some good points. Was it healthy to pretend like nothing was wrong and let Eddie hang all over him with no future of an actual relationship? No. Was it stopping Steve from doing it? Also no.

Steve jumped when he heard the doorbell ring, too lost in his own thoughts to realize it was past midnight. There was only one person it could be. He scrambled to get the door, always stupidly excited to see him, already grinning when he came face to face with the source of all of his shitty feelings, and the only person who even slightly made him feel better about it.

“Y’know, I gave you a key so you could use it,” he teased as Eddie stepped past him, right at home, “I don’t know why you always make me answer the door.”

“Maybe I just want to see your pretty face, is that such a crime?” Eddie was doing that thing again, that sweet way of talking that made Steve feel like he was about to melt. That thing that Robin insisted Steve put a stop to if he had any sense of self-worth.

Lucky for him, he didn’t.

Steve rolled his eyes, grabbing for Eddie’s hand to lead him upstairs, “No, but making me lose sleep is. My pretty face is exhausted from waiting for your ass. We’re going to bed.”

Eddie was laughing behind him, with his stupidly pretty voice. The voice that haunted Steve’s dreams at night, “Whatever you say princess.”

Steve should have been thinking about what Robin said as he curled up against Eddie’s chest in his bed. This was bad for him, no matter how good it felt in the moment. The nights of Eddie wrapping his arms around him, kissing his head, whispering sweet dreams, in his ear, had an expiration date, he knew that now.

But that wouldn’t stop him from hanging onto it for as long as he could.

Part 2!

#steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #there's a part 2 to this!#you'll pry my insanely long posts out of my cold dead hands #eddie's a big dumbass #and robin's thirty seconds from killing him for it #stranger things #max mayfield #steve and dustin #dustin henderson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #she's trying to be a good friend damn it

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ziggyzolch · 23 days

Text

Your Prettiness is Seeping Through II (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Warnings: maybe bungled the medical stuff and process of being admitted, suicidal ideation, aftermath, descriptions of self harm kind of? its not like currently happening. Bulimia and what comes with it. Those r the main things I think.

----------------------------------------------------

-------the shame is manifest in my resistance------- ❅❅❅

“So they’re admitting you?”

You could feel the snow being crushed beneath your weight as you leaned back on your hands. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon and your best friend was sitting next to you on a random curb, taking the pack of cigarettes from your hand.

It was mid-winter. The city streets bustled with the cheer of festive Christmas decorations and the harmonies of carolers. It almost makes you feel better. You never cared for Christmas, or religion in general, but the joy in the little kids’ faces at the snow blanketing the streets, and the laughing of teenagers having snowball fights was cute.

It helped.

You sigh, turning towards your friend, “No, I don’t think so. Most that’ll happen is I’ll be in therapy, I guess.”

She rubs her hands together in an attempt to warm up, “I think I’d kill myself if I got caught. Kidding, you’ll be fine. Probably.”

You scoff, “Thanks,”

You snatched the pack from her hand, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

You had gotten over the fear of throat cancer a long time ago. It’s more of an expectation than a fear now. Smoking and purging at the same time kind of makes it an inevitability. The thought of death didn’t scare you. Not that you were cripplingly suicidal. You didn’t desperately want to die anymore, you just wouldn’t mind if you did. If you died from all of these habits, it was fine, great even. If not, whatever.

Passively suicidal.

Tomorrow, you’ll have your long awaited psych evaluation. You were shocked that it wasn’t the first thing they’d done. You weren’t that big of a risk anyways. A week has passed since your parents caught you, and you’d been made to take a number of medical tests to determine the severity of your bulimia, or something.

The first one was a general physical assessment, the most simple yet most uncomfortable. You had been made to wear a hospital gown, which you felt was overboard but whatever. They wouldn’t be able to admit you just based off of a BMI measurement, you were sure. You weren’t very underweight, most bulimics you knew weren’t. In fact, most of them were normal, sometimes overweight, but you just assumed it was because they were bad at it. You didn’t feel anything looking at your weight. Numbers mattered, sure, but with every binge and purge, your weight fluctuated like crazy, so you learned to just look for signs of weight loss via mirror.

She read your BMI out loud, you knew it wasn’t low enough to be a concern. You internally celebrated, until you noticed her eyes glancing down to your arm.

Shit.

Burning was your preferred method of self mutilation. Cutting was unsatisfying, messy, and a pain in the ass. Burns look disgusting when they heal though, which was the only downside. The scars are easily passable as cooking accidents and such. When they’re still healing, though, charred, blistered, and disgusting, they’re almost impossible to excuse. Your mom had caught you once, with your worst burn nonetheless. One offer of taking over the chores for the day and she was off your back, already taking her place on the sofa.

The burns weren’t fresh, not at all. Most of them were years old, but you panicked nonetheless. You’ve seen how batshit they get at any sign of self harm. You watched as she glanced towards your arm, then turned back to her clipboard, writing something down. Subtly moving your other arm behind your back, you cover up the bruises on your knuckles.

You also had to go to a dentist appointment. Last time you went, you had just gotten your braces off and permanent retainers in. You still have glue on the back of your teeth from when your top retainer broke, they had never gotten rid of it. With how often it fell off, you were glad the dentist had given up on putting in replacements.

You were more worried about this appointment than the physical assessment. You couldn’t keep food down, smiling with your eroded teeth was uncomfortable, and your breath was horrible. The dentist would definitely notice something, at the very least that you were a smoker. Your mother would hate that more than bulimia.

Honestly, despite all of these effects, you got the benefit of barely having a gag reflex. Which, now that you think about it, doesn’t really matter considering you don’t even like men.

Surprise was clear on your face when your dentist complimented you on the health of your teeth and sent you on your way.

You didn’t really know what the other tests were, something about heart arrhythmias and electrolytes. You didn’t care, you were so over it. It was all bullshit. You weren’t sad. You weren’t suicidal nor were you a danger to yourself or others. You were just bulimic, not on the brink of fucking brain collapse.

All of this was bullshit.

❅❅❅

Wanda’s senses come back one by one. Her ears pick up the soft whirring of machinery and occasional beeping of monitors. The soft footsteps of nurses and patients walking past, the opening and closing of a door as doctors enter, the scratching of their pens against their clipboard. The lingering scent of antiseptic reaches her nose, and the bitter taste in her mouth makes itself known. Her fingers pinch the stiff material of her gown, and she can feel the IV in her arm. Finally, she opens her eyes.

Waking up in the fiery depths of hell would’ve been better than where Wanda was right now. She mumbled curses under her breath as she looked around, taking in the hospital equipment around her.

“Natasha?” She croaked out when she caught sight of her friend sleeping on the hospital chair in the corner of the room. Natasha jumped up, wiping the drool off her chin and rushing towards Wanda. “Oh, thank god.” She sighed, pulling Wanda into an awkward hug.

She pulls back when she realizes Wanda wasn’t hugging her back. “How do you feel?” Wanda cringes at the pity on Natasha’s face. “Peachy.” She turns away, not stopping Natasha when she reaches to grab her hand.

The widow sighs, rubbing circles into Wanda’s hand, making her fingers twitch slightly. They sit in silence, not knowing what to say to each other. Wanda was glad Natasha had found her. She didn’t want to be found at all, but at least it was Natasha.

She was so stupid, so fucking stupid. Of course it wouldn’t have worked. She should’ve just shot herself in the head, like a man. She’d read somewhere that men have higher suicide rates because they carry it out in more extreme ways. Girls usually go for lighter, prettier deaths. Overdoses, slitting their wrists in a rose petal filled bathtub, and such. More survivable, and less of a burden for whoever cleans up after them. Men don't feel the same obligation. So what if it's more work for the cleaners? A shotgun to the head is easier for them, that's what matters. They don't think about how puffy their face would get if they hung themselves, or how awkward they'd be positioned on the ground if they jumped off a building. They don't think about the possibility of surviving afterwards and dealing with the deformity.

Pietro’s lifeless body flashes in her mind.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Wanda finally notices the iron grip she had on Natasha’s hand.

She didn’t want to talk about Pietro. Never. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Her friend looks away, “You’re suspended until you get help.”

“What! No!” Wanda sits up, snatching her hand out of Natasha’s grip, “This was the first time! Bruce tried to kill himself, why isn’t he suspended?”

“That was before he even joined.”

Wanda sighs, “So, what like, therapy for a week?”

Natasha raises her eyebrows, “Wanda, you tried to kill yourself. You need to be monitored.”

“I’m not a fucking child. Jesus, Nat!”

“It’s not up to me, Fury’s orders. Either get help or you’re fired, basically.”

“Don’t I need a psychological evaluation or some shit?”

“Wanda, you swallowed a whole bottle of whatever-the-fuck pills. I can evaluate you right now. You’re fucked in the head, babe.” Natasha attempts to joke.

She sighs in relief when Wanda huffs out a laugh, “So, you’re sending me to the loony bin?”

“Yup. It’ll be great though, perks of being an Avenger.” Natasha places a comforting hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

“How long will I be there?”

Natasha grabs Wanda’s hand that’s picking at her gown, “Until you’re better.”

The sound of a girl yelling stops their conversation.

❅❅❅

“Inpatient would be the best option…”

The ringing in your ears blocks out whatever the doctor was saying. What the fuck. You were not crazy. So what if you were bulimic. You didn’t constantly starve yourself and avoid food so you were chill, but you also were not getting fat, so you were hot. It’s like a win-win.

You’re sitting with your parents, a doctor across from you. He must be a therapist, or psychologist…psychiatrist? Potato, Tomato.

A hand on your shoulder brings you back to earth. Tears are pooling in your mothers eyes, your father is sighing into his hand. “What about my classes? My life!”

“Lower your voice. You aren’t being sent away to the fucking Alcatraz.” Your father grits out.

The doctor chimes in, “I’m sure you’ll be able to do your school work, most institutions let you have books and supervised computer time.”

You push your mothers hand off your shoulder. “Why are you doing this to me?”

She scoffs, “Me? Why are you doing this to yourself!”

“You can’t make me!” Passersby can hear your voice through the closed door of the office.

It was true, they couldn’t really. You were a legal adult, they couldn’t make you do shit. Your mother pinches the bridge of her nose before turning to your father expectedly. You look back and forth between them with an eyebrow raised.

“We won’t support you anymore if you don’t do this.” He finally pushes out.

“What? As if you’ve ever supported-”

Oh. Financially. College and such. Housing and such. Food…and such.

You’re not that level of adult, yet.

“What the fuck-”

“Language!”

“No! What the actual fuck! I’m not sick!”

Your father’s face contorts in anger, “Did you not hear a single word the doctor said? Your potassium levels, electrolytes, and heart are all fucked! You could have a heart attack!” He takes a breath,

“You are killing yourself.”

“What?” You don’t know what to say. Why is your heart beating so fast?

You let out a frustrated shriek, getting up to leave. They don’t know what they’re saying. You storm out of the office, narrowly avoiding passing nurses and stretchers, trying to ignore the sense of dread building within you.

Heart attacks were a lame death. You could imagine how stupid you'd look; jaw wide open, leaning back in your desk chair, clutching at your chest. The door to your room is always locked, so your parents wouldn’t care to check for a while. They’d just assume you were isolating yourself.

Stiffening up in that position, rotting and decomposing. So lame, so ugly.

It didn’t scare you.

Your head ricocheting off a wall interrupts your spiral.

Natasha winces, peaking over the door to find you on the floor, rubbing your head. Wanda had asked her to check what was going on, and you happened to be passing by at the same time she opened the door. You push yourself off the floor before Natasha could help you up. Black spots appear in your vision and you start swaying. You must’ve stood up too fast.

Natasha holds you up as you fall into her for a second, before you regain your bearings.

“Get off me!”

She lets go immediately, raising an eyebrow when you double-take at the sight of Wanda.

‘She’s so skinny.’

Wanda looks up at you, confused when she takes you in. You could’ve been the same weight as her, if not a little more. She doesn’t read people's thoughts if she can help it, but yours were so loud. You blush when she makes eye contact with you, turning and stomping away.

Your footsteps fade as Natasha closes the door, making her way back to Wanda. The widow smiles at Wanda, poking her side, “I think she has a crush on you.” Wanda’s eyes widen, “No way; she said I was skinny.” Natasha tilts her head, “Like in a disgusted way?” The witch looks down at her hands.

She assumed it was envy at first, but you didn’t look like you weighed significantly more than her. Nor was it disgust, based off of how you looked at her.

“Not…really. I don’t know.”

Natasha sighs, “Well, it doesn't matter. We’ll fatten you up in no time.”

She winces at Wanda’s obviously forced laugh.

She didn’t like being skinny, but it was an effect of her depression. It wouldn’t be that easy to reverse. The only reason she was open to this treatment was so that she could go back to work. She’ll just pretend to get better, go back, and work until she can’t take it anymore. Next time, she’ll use a gun. Actually, would she subconsciously stop the bullet with her powers? The pills almost killed her, maybe she’d just lock her door next time. She could pick up smoking, maybe that’d be like a backup. A slow, eventual death could be happening in the background while she found short term options. Multitasker.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Wanda is taken out of her reverie as Natasha pokes at her stomach again. She smiles, shaking her head and curling up into the bed. The older redhead pats her shoulder, “The squad’s going to visit before you leave. Just thought I’d give you a heads up.”

Wanda groans, she didn’t need any more people up her ass.

She stiffens at the sound of sniffling, looking up when she feels her shoulder dampen.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Natasha leans over her frame, hair masking her face. The brunette stammers, racking her brain for a reply. She’d never seen Natasha so emotional. It was like hearing Steve use slang.

She sighs, curling further into herself and ignoring Natasha. She wishes she could reassure her. Tell her that even the thought of trying again made her nauseous, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t live the rest of her life seeing her brother's corpse every time she blinks.

Living with the memory of Pietro’s death for the rest of her life was worse than any torture she’d ever endured.

She ignores the flashing images as her eyes drift close, falling asleep to the sound of Natasha’s sniffling.

❅❅❅

A/N: I lowk regret writing in in second person but yolo. reply to this post if u wanna get tagged in the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @mathxa @nikkinss

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 5 months

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Love me or hate me, both are in my favor (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic rivals AU])

Hiii! I love this chapter hehe Not proofread.

(L/N)- Last name.

Cursing, mentioning of death, reader and Miguel be silly goofy, Miguel being just the slightest bit protective.

Word count: 2k

Series Masterlist Series playlist

Chapter 3: It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

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Due to your leg, you weren’t able to attend classes for a few days. Which sucked complete ass, being cooped up in your small dorm room for 4 days was complete torture. It was nice at first though, giving you an excuse to catch up on some books. Mj was nice enough to drop off your assignments and it was as a complete relief when you saw she came out of the night unscathed, reassuring her you’re okay when she expressed her guilt when she realized you weren’t running behind her the day of the attack.

You put your phone down on your lap, growing tired from watching mind numbing content on social media. Your eyes landing on your bandage leg, twisting the muscles a bit in an attempt to stretch it, feeling the dull soreness ache through your hamstring. You were now able to walk but only for small amounts of time, not enough to be able to return to class but enough to go to the bathroom without having to grab onto every surface you can find to hop on your right leg. Luckily, the doctor said you’d be able to go back the following week once you get your crutches delivered to your room . As you continue to move your leg slightly from side to side, your mind wanders back to the events of last saturday. You know you shouldn’t be thinking of it, because it makes your heart rate pick up and your hands get clammy again, but then you think about Spider-Man, and it calms you a bit. The way he was so gentle with you, holding you like you were made of porcelain, but tight enough where it felt like he wouldn’t ever let you go again, and that voice, his tone when he spoke to you,it was almost too gentle, like he knew you personally. He obviously hadn’t seen your leg, because if he had he would have taken you to a hospital instead of your dorm room, bringing you in through your window that you had forgotten to lock. Although to be fair you could have told him to take you to the hospital when he asked where you lived, but you were still frazzled from the whole thing.

A strong, almost rapid knocking at your front door snapped you out of your thoughts, startling you slightly as you let out a small yelp, before letting out a huff as you went up and limped your way to the door to greet your unexpected guest. It’s probably MJ you thought, she tended to drop by without notice during the last four days to bring you your homework or some snacks to make you feel better. Once you were able to stand steadily on your feet, you opened your door.

“O’Hara?” The name came out of your mouth before the action could register in your brain, being completely blindsided if you were being honest with yourself. The same thing happened with your next question. “How’d you find out my room number?”

He didn’t reply to your questions, rather asking one of his own. “Where have you been? You’ve missed two days of school. Two. You’ve never even been late to a class before.” The hostility in his voice had somehow found a way to leave you more confused, he was acting like you were his girlfriend who had just ghosted him or something.

“Well- I-“ You stuttered, you never stuttered around Miguel, you have no idea what to say if you were being honest, this was something very different from your usual dynamic with each other. You subconsciously shifted your good foot a bit so you could support more of your weight on it. Miguel’s eyes instantly dropped to your legs, and you could have sworn that they grew a decimal bigger when they landed on your bandage leg. You didn't have a chance to properly answer before he shot another question at you.

“Who did that to you?” It came out almost in a growl, his brows furrowed together, shoulders tensing back slightly and his hands twitching into a fist for a split second before relaxing back to a more relaxed position, it felt like he was burning a hole through the leg with his eyes only. The question felt odd. Most people would ask “how’d you get that?” or “what happened to your leg?”

“Well, I was caught in that freak accident at the met on Saturday. I hurt my leg because I fell down.” You said to him as you followed his gaze down to your left leg, twisting it slightly so he could see the side better. “It’s just a scrap and a grade 1 tear… doctor said it will take 3 weeks at most to heal.” You boredly explained with a shrug, as if you were just discussing the weather.

For some reason, the way you explained it so nonchalantly made him slightly angry. Partly at you, because you were talking about it so casually, like it was a regular Wednesday night for you, when you could have gotten killed. Hell. You did almost get killed. Also partly at himself, for not noticing the injury when he had saved you that night. How he hadn't noticed the giant gash covered in dry blood on your leg, was beyond him.

Miguel let out a deep exhale as he rubbed his face with his hand, his eyes closed and his face twisted with irritation, before running the hand through his hair. “Que voy hacer contigo…” he murmured to himself under his breath, you saw his lips move but you didn’t catch a word. Before you could ask him to repeat himself, he took it upon himself to invite himself into your room, closing the door behind him. (What am I gonna do with you…)

“Hey! What are you-“

“Shut your mouth and let me help you to your bed, will you?”

“I don’t need help. I am perfectly capable of walking-“

“Limping.”

“Walking myself to bed.”

Miguel didn’t justify your argument with a rebuttal, instead he lifted you up and placed you on his shoulder like a bag of sand, before plopping you down onto your bed. Ignoring your annoyed whines and your balled up fist hitting his hard back as he took you. You let out a small grunt as you landed, before crossing your arms and glaring at him. You hated how easily he could just toss you around like a rag doll. How dare he go to the gym on his down time.

“Was that necessary O’Hara?” You huffed, your eyes following him as he slowly placed around your dorm, not even attempting to hide his shameless snooping.

“…Most likely not… but you know how much I love to mess with you, (L/N).” He remarked with a small smirk, before stopping in front of your book self and grabbed one titled “The sun and her flowers” before flipping it open to a random page.

“When death takes my hand, I will hold you with the other… and promise to find you in every lifetime…” As he finishes the quote, he lifts and turns his head towards you. He wasn’t expecting you to already be looking at him first. Both of you fall into a moment of silence, before he clears his throat and closes the book, looking away. “Quite melodramatic don’t you think?” He mumbled.

You shrugged, “If a poem hasn’t ripped apart your soul; you haven’t experienced poetry.”

He scoffs, “who said that?”

You smiled, “Edgar Allan Poe.”

Miguel couldn’t help the way his lips twitched upwards slightly as he let out another scoff. It was almost endearing the way that you slipped quotes like that into conversations so easily, if it was anyone other than you who said that he’d almost find it adorable.

“You are so pretentious, you know that (L/N)?” He states, placing the book back into its original spot before turning back to face you, taking a step towards your bed, and grabbing one of your extra pillows and placed it under your foot to elevate it before you had time to protest.

“Look who’s talking..” You glared at him, going to move your leg off the pillow so you could get off your bed to stand up once more, but your foot only came off about a few inches before Miguel’s large hand came down and firmly placed it back on the pillow, sending you a look of warning. “I don’t need you to watch me, I don’t need your petty. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself! Even if I wasn’t, you are the last person I would go to.” You scolded him, coming across a lot harsher then attending to, but it was too late to take the words back.

Rather than focusing on the smallest ping he felt in his chest after you spoke, he just put his hands up in a defensive manner, you were right, you don’t need Miguel’s help. He doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to you all of a sudden himself. Maybe he feels guilty about the whole you almost dying thing, but it wasn’t his fault you were at the museum when the green goblin struck. It’s not like you were on death’s door because of your leg, and he saved you for god’s sake, even if it was as Spider-Man and not Miguel. You might not know that, but he sure as hell does.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Miguel sighed, going to stand up straight, his warm hand leaving your leg,the sudden cold air of your room hitting your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Now it was your turn to feel the ping in your chest.

You didn’t mean for it to come off as rude as it did. Miguel was good at hiding his emotions, but if you knew one thing better than you knew yourself, it was him. Whether you liked to admit it or not, you’ve grown familiar to all of his little quirks and mannerisms, naturally you would after spending half of your academic career around the man. You noticed the way his jaw tenses ever so slightly, the smallest hesitation in his voice before he spoke, the way his grip on your ankle pulls away like your skin was made of fire and was burning his.

“No I’m sorry, that was a bit too mean, even for us.” You attempted to lighten the slightly soured mood with a small joke, hoping he wouldn’t take more offense at the jab. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you saw his lips twitch up slightly in that oh so familiar smirk that he always wore around you when he wasn’t scowling at you.

He waved his hand dismissively at your apology, before slowly passing around your room once more, this time stopping in front your small dining table, where you had been working on your homework earlier in the day. His hand coming up and grabbing the page and bringing it to eye level as he quietly went over the work. After a few seconds Miguel put the paper back down, a small tsk leaving his lips as he shook his head. You knew that reaction too well.

“What? Did I mess something up? You know I suck at quantum psychics…” You quickly stood up and made your way over to where Miguel was standing, his head turning to watch you in amusement as you limped as fast as you could to get to the table, putting your palms on it for support once you reached it. Saying you sucked was overdramatized, you were decent, knowing the basic understanding of it, which already had you ahead of a fourth of the class.

“You know you can ask me for help Muñeca, right?” God the cockiness that laced his words made your skin crawl. (Doll)

“Over my dead body.” You glared up at him, going to stand up straight as best as you could, gently hitting his arm with your hand (and ignoring the aching you felt in your hand after because apparently that man had zero body fat on him).

“Isn’t it too soon to joke like that (L/N)?” He asked with a light chuckle, causing your brows to furrow together in confusion.

“What do you mean-ohhhh.”

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @oharasfilipinawife @mxltifxnd0m @loser-alert @homewreckingwreck @dumb-gemini12 @cowboylikeevie @thedevax

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara au #miguel spiderverse #love me or hate me fanfic #academic rivals au #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel x reader

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professionalsimpforgeorgeweasley · 30 days

Text

What They'll Say About Us

Prologue

"When you wake up it won't be over, so don't you give up". - FINNEAS

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: Spencer winds up in a coma after an intense case leaving you to think about all the events that have lead up to this moment.

Warnings: unrealistic medical practices and police procedures, canon typical violence, blood, mentions of being shot, probably some spelling or grammar mistakes, let me know if I missed anything else.

What They'll Say About Us (Masterlist)

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you gasped for breath in the hospital waiting room. You looked down at the blood that was slowly drying on your hands. The blouse you were wearing over your camisole that you used to try to stop the blood was probably long gone in evidence right about now.

The rest of the team should've been here by now. You had only left a few minutes earlier after insisting on riding in the ambulance with spencer.

"Y/N where is he?" You heard a familiar voice you could only associate with Morgan behind you.

"They took him into surgery a-and they said it doesn't look too good for him right now." You felt the tears that had been begging to come out finally falling down your face.

"Have you been checked out you look really shaken up?" Morgan hugged you not caring if he got blood on himself.

The rest was a haze. Morgan had taken you to be examined so they could make sure that you weren't hurt too badly. The local police had taken pictures of your injuries before they allowed the nurse to clean you up. You were forced to retell and relive the memory of how you and Spencer caught the unsub before his partner came and shot Spencer from behind you. You told them how you tried to fight him off but we're unsuccessful.

After the nurses and police were done you changed into sweats and a hoodie that Emily had grabbed from your hotel room for you. Everyone but Emily had left to search for the unsubs. The only thing left for the two of you to do was wait until the surgeon came out with an update for you.

"We had him Emily, we caught him." You started crying again "If I would have just checked the house better or turned aroun-"

"Y/N you stop right there. Don't blame yourself for anything that happened tonight because it is not your fault." She said as she pulled you into her side.

"But wh-what if he doesn't make it em. What if he dies and I never get to tell him-" your own sobs interrupted your words.

"Spencer is strong as hell if anyone is gonna make it it's going to be him." She attempts to reassure you but you can't force the dark thoughts out for your head because it's all you can think about as the two of you sit there in silence.

After what was probably hours you saw the surgeon walking out and towards you. You turned to wake up Emily next to you before you ran over to her.

"is Spencer okay? Did he make it?" You urged the surgeon to give you all the answers she had for you.

"He's doing just fine the surgery went well. But-" you swear you felt your whole stomach drop as soon as that final word left her mouth.

"But what?" Emily pressed from behind you, clearly as eager as you to get answers.

"But there was a lot of blood loss and he slipped into a coma after surgery so from here on out we just have to play the waiting game and see what happens. He's in a room now if you guys would like to see him and I'm sorry I didn't have more answers to give." The surgeon nodded before she walked away.

You looked at Emily with those same tears as before. All you could think about was the possibility of Spencer never waking up.

"You should go see him first I can go in a little later." She patted your shoulder and you didn't spare a second before rushing down the hall to see him.

You couldn't help but cry at the sight of him laying there with all the tubes and wires around him. You'd never seen him looking so dull and lifeless. You gently sat beside him and grabbed his hand but it only made you sob more with the subtle beeping of the monitor in charge of his heart rate in the background.

"Spence please I just need you to wake up. There's so much I need to tell you about everything and I can't do this without you."

You just prayed that he would wake up and this whole nightmare would be over just as fast as it started.

A/N: I'm so excited to start this series. I've had this idea in my head for a while now and I'm so happy to get to share this with other people and to have y'all read it! Also this might have a lot of errors cause I'm currently half asleep writing this 👍

#my writing #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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jarofstyles · 7 months

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FICTOBER DAY 2- Was It Worth It?

Hello lovebugs. Welcome back to day two, we got a shortie blurb for all of you!

Fictober Prompts/Masterlist

Patreon

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“Was it worth it?” Y/N grumbled as she gently wiped the cut on his forehead.

Harry had always been a hothead, but with a few drinks in him, his confidence flew. It flew all the way into a bar chair after trying to start a fight in the pub for a guy pulling Y/N close to his lap. She’d gone to report the creep for attempting something but had only gotten halfway through the crowded area when she heard someone yelling Harry’s name and for him to ‘chill out’.

The halloween trivia night had been a bust, it seems, but Y/N’s cat ears stuck well to her hair and her half assed attempt of a cat nose and whiskers had only smudged a tiny bit. She called that a win. The black bodysuit had been a hit with Harry, so much so that he had been extra touchy the whole night and kissing on her in the way that was gearing up for some fun at home.

The fight had sobered them both up, Y/N hissing when she saw the blood down her boyfriend’s face. It was a halloween theme so thankfully no one gave them much of a second look when they got into the uber, but she was annoyed he wouldn’t let her bring him to a hospital.

“It was.” He hummed, pawing at her hips. Y/N was ignoring it mentally, but her body was only so strong. “Totally worth it. I told you I’d always protect you, my sweet girl. Always. And yeah, probably shouldn’t have thrown hands but he commented on your ass when I was going to tell him off so…” He shrugged his shoulders. Thankfully the only injuries seemed to be a superficial cut and a few split knuckles. Still she was going to keep him awake in case of a concussion.

“You can keep me safe by not throwing hands in the middle of a pub.” She squeezed his chin, giving him a look as she finished tending to the head wound. They bled a lot and it was intimidating no matter what.

“Hm. Maybe.” He pulled her in between his split legs. “I’m never going to not defend your honor. You’re my love. S’fucked if I just let someone say shit. And then they touch you?” He went to raise his brow but winced, the tender skin making him grunt. “Fucks sake. It was worth it, though. It’ll heal up and maybe I’ll have a cool scar and you can always remember who loves you enough to get his arse handed to him.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, squishing his cheeks before placing a kiss to his mouth. “Fair enough, babe. Fair enough.” She was just glad she didn’t have to bail him out with a cat tail tied around her waist. “Get in the shower and wash the blood off of your hair so I can finish this up.” Her hands smacked his thighs, the sound echoing in the bathroom. “And before you ask, no. I will not join you. I will sit here and make sure you don’t pass out, god forbid, but if I step in there you will give yourself more of a headache trying to touch me.”

She knew exactly how that would go. Harry wasn’t at all subtle when his shoulders fell, a groan leaving his lips as he stood up from the sink. “Fine. Only because this means you forgive me and you won’t be mad anymore.” He sang over his shoulder as he strolled over to the shower stall to turn on the water. “ No taking it back!”

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mimicha-arts · 8 months

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Link Click s2e9/e10

Date of the post: 09-01-2023 Okay, I watched this episode a couple of times, another post-episode post where I’m trying to gather my thoughts. SPOILERS FOR S2E9 AND E10 1. Probably missing scene I am 99% sure that we are not done with the “from the hospital to the pier” scene, I will believe until the last moment that this is a hoax. Chen Xiaoshi will run into the red light, and in fact, I think there is one missing scene at this point.

Some time ago, a small draft was published, where one of the characters ran across the road and barely dodged a moving car. Soo, I think it was here. If this remains in the final version, of course, we'll definitely come back to it (source). Just my speculation.

Yes, Xiaoshi was just impossibly lucky (lmao) to escape from the hospital, but we are still left with three unclear details:

upside down phone

the kettle in chronology 1

damn boat! This part of the plot is still the most confusing thing for me. What was the point of giving Lu Guang away the first time? What was the point of creating a time loop? Why he still ended up with Lu Guang (as it seems) in the scene of Romeo and Juliet? I'm pretty patient with this, just curious.

2. Abilities. I think we got a hint about how the twins' powers work. Previously, I assumed that the limitation of Li Tianchen's control abilities was like this: that he could only act in the evening, night and early morning (somewhere in between), since all the kills and uses of his abilities did not occur during the day. Now perhaps we have our answer? Based on the history of the foxes, it is likely that the time of using his abilities is tied to his sister's "sleeping time". Because when she was sleeping, her brother went for "hunting". Moreover, such a focus is on his “paws” and pats.

3. Change of events - Qian Jin and twins The way twins met Qian Jin is SO different. I actually kinda think, that that one of the variants of events is the already fucked up past through the present. s2e9:

s2e8:

It seems to me that the difference in these events is obvious. Both the moment itself and the details. Li Tianchen's backpack on his back, blood on Li Tianxi's dress. Everything went differently.

Alternate realities went brrrrr? The scene from the episode is an attempt to change events, where instead of Qian Jin it is actually Cheng Xiaoshi? I have no idea. 4. Hi, hatman! Friendly reminder: it's just my guessing. At the moment it seems to me that if there is no trolling here, the boy from the flashbacks and the hunter from the fairy tale are the same character. Clearly. We know that his last name is Liu, and Liu Min himself has a younger brother, Liu Xiao, so yeah- Сan't wait for him to return from overseas and be part of a real scene.

In fact, I really love that Li Tianchen hoped throughout his expression that Liu Min is Liu Xiao (whether he realizes that these are different people is still unclear)

Considering the announcement of Neo Aurora, it seems that we will see Liu Xiao's real appearance and design in the near future, I'm shaking. I have so many stupid jokes about him! 6. Liu Min I guess the woman they were discussing at the beginning was someone else? Since Liu Min can still able to move his legs and even can stand up.

I can conclude that Emma was not the first victim of this “alliance.” So it's hard to say how many people were actually killed, definitely not 8, much more. At least that's what it seems to me. Idk, I'm just having fun, as always. Feel free to discuss. Thanks for reading ~

#link click #shiguang dailiren #link click s2 #link click spoilers #link click theory #mimicha.lc

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roguehongsami · 5 months

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Velvet Crowbar | Pt. 2

pairing/s: guitarist!wooyoung x fem!metalhead

genre/s: smut, au

synopsis: 1983. wooyoung is making your breakup a hellscape. but him getting kicked out of velvet crowbar was the escape you needed all along, as it pushed him to his breaking point.

content: age gap (18!reader x 23!wooyoung, consensual), unprotected sex (condomize), breakup? sex, dacryphilia, creampie, possessive ex, talk of ownership, animal abuse (don't), alcohol consumption (don't), drug overdose (don't).

word count: 4.5k

navigation: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

masterlist here

A month went by since Y/N had last seen Wooyoung. He stopped picking her up from school, never even attempted to check on her. Their relationship slowly sizzled out in the past weeks. Aside from school, nobody had seen Y/N. Not at the junkyard where the local metalheads would go to vandalise abandoned property, not at shows, not even at house parties. Y/N took up space everywhere she went and her absence was felt.

Conversely, Wooyoung had put himself back out there again. He was at every party, every show. Playing at small venues with Velvet Crowbar. He was with a different girl every week. It wasn't all sunshine. He could not bring himself to admit that the separation had taken a toll on his guitar playing and songwriting. It was fairly noticeable. Everyone could see it. Wooyoung drank minimally and dabbled a bit in recreational drugs. Y/N knew but it never bothered her because he had a handle on it. Now he was pitching up to rehearsals either drunk or doped up, screwing up a solo or two.

People were talking.

Mrs. Scott was gentle not to set her off. She was a lot more careful with her words, always made sure to give her a hug when she could. One of her friends informed her of Y/N's hospital visit with Wooyoung in the prenatal wing. Put two and two together, she had her answer. As furious as she was, she could never vocalise it as it would undo all progress made to ameliorate their bond.

"Mrs. Wentworth told me you were at the prenatal ward a month ago."

Silence met her on her side of the door.

"I'm not angry, Y/N. You ever need to talk about it, I'm here." she sighed. "I know what it's like..."

Y/N unlocked the door for her mother and laid back down on the bed. Mrs. Scott spooned her and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Before you, I fell pregnant quite young. Your age, actually, and your father was about Wooyoung's age." Mrs. Scott exhaled. "Your father wasn't ready, nor was I. The reason I was against you dating Wooyoung was because, it felt as if I were watching you act out my past."

"The difference between dad and Woo is that my being here proves that dad knew he wanted a future with you." she whispered, almost impossible to hear. "Woo talked a big game but when things got a bit too real, he showed me how undependable he was."

Mrs. Scott squeezed Y/N's arm reassuringly. "I'm sure that's not true, sweetie. He was probably as scared as you were."

"You know, I cried after that. I was hurt. I laid there in bed, he didn't even hold me." she broke into a sob. "He was dead asleep. That pregnancy changed everything."

She turned around and buried her face in her mother’s chest. "Woo felt like forever to me." a disheartening wail filled the room. "Jesus, I hate him so much!"

"No you don't, sweetie." she cooed in her daughter's ear. "I could see it but didn't want to admit. That boy loves you as much as you do him. Give yourself time to work through the pain first. You'll both eventually find your way back to each other."

A few moments passed, faint sobs occupied the atmosphere. As much as Y/N wanted to believe her mother’s words, she couldn't. Her deep-seated abandonment issues were eating away at her core. She blamed herself more than anything. Red flags as bright as day, she chose to not heed the warnings.

This was one thorny bed she laid in.

She hustled out of bed and sat in the alcove by the window, contemplating where she had went wrong. Her eyes followed as the neighbourhood children played in the cul-de-sac. Little giggles making their way into her room. Unaware of a few tears running free on her cheeks.

"He stopped picking me up from school, always coming home late." she scoffed. "Said rehearsals with the band were taking longer than usual, I knew he was lying. He found any and every excuse to not be around me."

Her body turned to face her mother. "You know he blamed me for getting pregnant? He showed me how despicable he can get, but I shouldn't have expected so much from an alcoholic junkie. That's my fault."

The room fell silent. Mrs. Scott taken aback from the change in Y/N's emotions. She felt partially responsible for how everything had unravelled. Too much was going on all at once and she felt as if she was losing a grip on her daughter. Relieved that she was starting to see the light, ultimately the price was not worth it.

Y/N started getting dressed, putting on a much more comfortable look.

"Where are you going?" Mrs. Scott asked.

"The haberdashery downtown. I'm gonna get some material." she said, nonchalant.

Mrs. Scott stood up from the bed, excitement painting across her face. Clapping her hands endlessly, her glee almost contagious to anyone within her vicinity. She threw her hands around Y/N shoulders, pecking her forehead. Y/N's brain quickly registered the situation, and just allowed herself to be cocooned.

"Are you sewing again?" Mrs. Scott queried, jumping up and down in her spot with Y/N enveloped in her arms.

"Please unhand me." Mrs. Scott stood inches away with a gleaming smile on her face when her daughter spoke. "I came up with some designs after Wooyoung signed me up for art classes. I also applied to a bunch of schools, so I need to have some pieces to present when they call me for interviews." she shrugged. "And I need the distraction."

Everything felt like it was falling back in place. A turbulent annum marked by loss, arguments and broken trust. Things were looking up in the Scott household and Mrs. Scott couldn't hide how grateful she was. Y/N felt a sense of relief wash over her. Her mother pulled her by her hand, leading her out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

"Come on, we're getting you a new sewing machine. Top of the line!" Mrs. Scott shouted. "I'll get somebody to clean the atelier so you can have your workspace back."

"Mom, I don't need a new machine and I can work from my roo-"

"You need a stimulating environment to make clothes and your room just won't do." Mrs. Scott waved her hand dismissively.

Her mother swiped her car keys off the kitchen counter and marched to the door, Y/N trailing behind her like a lost child.

Day by day, Y/N was slowly getting back to her old self. She could feel the Wooyoung-sized hole stitching itself back up. Picking up the pieces and putting herself back together, it was going to be a long road. Acquiescing herself with things she used to love doing was the first step. Most after school activities were fairly routine; an hour of art class, three hours at the atelier and the remaining hours spent studying for exams.

To unwind before the final paper, Brady Halliwell hosted a house party for the matrics. Y/N was ready to make her social return.

Unlike every other outfit, this time she kept her look simple. She was without the usual heavy, dark makeup. She sported a white woolen sweater, a black seamless long sleeve top, with black bell-bottoms and checkered Vans slip-ons. She made her way downstairs and as she was about to slip out, Mrs. Scott stopped her.

"You're writing Maths on Monday, where are you headed?" Mrs. Scott asked.

"Brady's party."

Mrs. Scott stared at her worriedly.

"Not the kind of party Wooyoung would go to, mom. Different crowd."

She nodded. "Oh, okay." she stood up from the couch. "I'll drive you."

After a silent ten-minute drive, they arrived at Brady Halliwell's house. You could hear the music from outside. Some people were sitting outside on the porch. Two guys, presumably drunk, were chasing each other with hosepipes on the front lawn. She made her way past the crowd, eyes landing on her. Hushed whispers and murmurs, here and there. Her friends were in the living room, standing in a circle, chatting up.

One of her friends, Murphy, saw her approach. She threw her hands in the air and screamed, "She's back!"

The lot turned around, shock painted across their faces. They pulled her into an embrace and made space for her in the circle.

"I thought this wasn't your scene anymore." Rosanne spoke loudly over the music.

"Yeah, what brought you here?" Caroline asked.

Y/N struggled to find her words and she shamefully looked down at her shoes. Her friends immediately caught on.

"Don't worry, we get it." Murphy pulled Y/N's wrist and put her arm over her shoulders. "I know we don't do it like your rocker friends, but tonight, my sole mission is to get you so shit-faced that you won't even remember that good-for-nothing's name." she smiled ear-to-ear.

[ . . . ]

As Y/N stood there with a solo cup half-full with beer, listening to Brady Halliwell talk about the golden age of film, she was feeling regretful. She felt so out of place; the music wasn't what she was used to, the setting was too "put together" for her liking. As hard as she tried to be invested in the conversation, it just wasn't interesting. Visual media was never Y/N's forte.

Brady stood at about 5'6 with a medium build. Brown hair, brown eyes and olive skin. Nothing but a sweet guy with a big heart. He was the scrum-half of the school’s rugby team, always raking in distinctions on his report, with an interest for old hollywood films.

"Casablanca is a good watch, especially when-"

Brady was cut off when two men appeared from behind Y/N and stood at either side, putting their arms over his shoulders.

San and Seonghwa were the other members of Velvet Crowbar, who've all known each other since their high school days. That's when they had formed the band, along with Hongjoong who played rhythm guitar and was lead singer. San was their bassist and Seonghwa was their drummer.

"How's it going Bradford?" San grinned as he looked down at Brady, chewing his gum.

Seonghwa playfully punched Brady in the stomach and grinned. "Long time no see, buddy." he faced Y/N. "It's been a while, Y/N."

"What are you guys doing here?" Y/N's face wore a bored look as she rolled her eyes.

"Just here to see Bradford." San deigned. "He promised to show us his rugby trophies."

Seonghwa lightly chuckled as his smile materialised. "Yeah. Actually, let's go see them right now."

San and Seonghwa walked away with Brady, with very little protest on his end. Y/N stood in her spot dumbfounded as she watched their backs disappear into the scene. She put the solo cup down on the counter. As she turned around to go find her friends, she bumped into a sturdy figure. Her balance disturbed, she lost her footing and stumbled back. When she looked up, she was met with a cold expressionless face.

Wooyoung grabbed her wrist and led her through the crowd into an empty bedroom. A few eyes followed them. Y/N was in too much shock to speak. She was confused and trying to process everything that was happening. He locked the door and released her from his hold. His eyes were droopy and the stench of alcohol was coming off thick.

"What are you doing here? With San and Hwa no less." she exasperated, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I just needed them to distract Bradford so I could get you alone." he spoke calmly. He pulled out a blunt from the inside of his leather jacket. "Want?"

She smacked the blunt out of his hand. "No, Woo. Who told you I was here?"

"Somebody at our show told me you were here. And by the looks of it, I was right." he towered over her. "You're not having a good time. But what do mall-maggots know about fun? They're all gonna grow up to be a bunch of yuppies with a penthouse and some kids in a few." he cupped her face as his words slurred and leaned in close enough for their lips to graze. "But you don't want that, do you?"

She remained silent, her chest heaving up and down. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. Too frozen to react.

"You wanna have fun first. Make a mess, yeah?" he kissed the corner of her lips. "With a guy like Halliwell? You'd be stuck in Kialecombe forever."

He was right.

The smell of alcohol from his breath invaded her nostrils, driving her into a dizzy spell. His voice carried so much weight. A weakness of hers. He knew how to get into her head. What to say and how to say it. Getting her back would surely straighten him out. His head was telling him he would never find love like he did in Y/N. Flaws and all, she loved him all the same. They wormed their way into each other's hearts. No, it was more than that.

It was a psychic imprint.

"You abandoned me." she whispered as she averted her gaze.

"You needed space." he whispered. "So did I."

Her eyes began welling. "You avoided me and blamed me. The abortion was just a wake-up call. I don't think we were ever gonna work."

Wooyoung would not give in. He felt himself coming undone the longer they were separated. Willing to try anything but admit his mistakes, he was determined to get her back. And he knew exactly what to say to reel her back in.

"Tell me you don't still love me. I'll leave and never come back." he held her gaze with the most serious look in his eyes.

"I... I..." she shamefully hung her head.

You were never a good liar, Y/N.

He planted his lips on hers. She tried to fight against it but gave in. He grabbed the back of her thighs and hoisted her off the floor. Her hands started undressing him, stripping him of his jacket and shirt. He sat on the bed and undressed her top half until her chest was revealed. His lips found her nipples to toy with. After a few minutes, he laid her down.

She stood up and took off her lower garments. As he was undoing his zip, she threw her arms over his shoulders and kissed him feverishly. Once he was completely stripped down, he straddled her and laid back down. He peppered kisses all over her neck and jawline, nipping the skin.

He lined himself up against her entrance. As he slowly pushed himself in, he kissed her to muffle her moaning. His thrusts started picking up speed and impact. She could feel him dancing right by her cervix. He changed angles until he could find her spot. When tears started falling down her temples, he knew he had found it. She dug her nails into his back.

"Can't you see we were made for each other?" he pounded violently in her walls. The squelching of her cunt filled the half-silence in the room, making her body shudder. Her back was arching. He nipped her nipple then smacked her thigh.

Hearing him grunt in her ear was making her release near. Her walls clenched around him and she locked her legs. She nipped at his neck, her hands getting tangled in his locks. Here and there, her moans escaped, but were not loud enough to get the attention of party-goers on the other side of the door.

He slowed down a bit until he completely stopped. He was panting, sweat beads gliding down his forehead with his hair sticking. His fingers raked through his hair, slicking it back. He held her face, squeezing her cheeks with his fingers. "Open up." She obliged, he dropped saliva into her mouth. Like clockwork, she reached for it with her tongue.

"Good girl." he smirked.

He unlocked her legs and put them over his shoulders, the back of her thighs pressed against his chest. He started thrusting again and she couldn't handle it. She was crying from all the pleasure. His lips crashed into hers and explored her mouth. Everything was all so overwhelming for her. That clamping motion was back yet again and he felt it.

"You cry so pretty. Really missed seeing that." he thrusted into her slow and hard. They locked lips momentarily. "You're my girl, nobody else can have you." she moaned in response. He thrusted even harder and looked her in the eyes. "Promise me you won't ever leave me?"

She moaned breathlessly in response.

The knot in her stomach snapped. Her walls clenched more. She bit down on her finger as she came around his cock. Her legs were shaking over his shoulders. As he slowed down, giving her slow deep thrusts, a white ring formed around his cock. His own high followed soon after, painting his seed inside her. You'd think he learned his lesson, guess not. He pulled out of her. A thick white stream was leaking out of her.

They laid in bed for about 30 minutes, his arm slinked over her waist and his face buried in her hair. He was napping. She stood up from the bed, shoving his arm off her waist. He woke up and saw her sitting up. He ran his fingers over her bare back, she jolted. As they both stood up, getting dressed, Wooyoung spoke.

"Y/N?"

Silence.

"Y/N?"

Silence.

"Will you please just talk to-"

"You keep roping me into your nonsense and I keep letting it happen. Murphy was right about you." she deadpanned.

"Murphy hates Seonghwa for cheating on her, so she hates me by association." he sneered. "Can you really trust that her opinion isn't biased?"

She threw on her sweater. He walked over to her side of the room. Her hand landed on the doorknob. He put his whole weight behind his hand, keeping the door closed. She turned to meet his gaze with a deadly glare.

"Make no mistake Y/N, I have friends all over town. Any time you think you've got something good with another guy, I'll be there to ruin it." he spoke, monotonous. "You're my girl."

"You're the easiest piece of meat in Kialecombe, it's actually embarrassing." she shoved him away from the door. "Don't think I don't know about the girls you've been bedding these past few weeks."

He pocketed his hands in his jacket. "Collateral damage." he shrugged nonchalantly. "We were made for each other, and deep down, you know it. Everybody does. Nobody has what we have."

"Had." she snickered as she pulled the door ajar. "And you... I love you, Woo, but I'm smart enough to know you're gonna hold me back."

She walked out of the bedroom, Wooyoung trailing right behind her. A few eyes landed on them. Whispers here and there. She hitched a ride with one of the guys from school. He was kind enough to take her home, dropping her off at her doorstep. As she walked in, the TV was still on. Mrs. Scott was awake. Her eyes were glued to the screen, downing palms of popcorn, watching Grease. When the door closed, her attention was brought to Y/N.

"You're back! How was it?" Mrs. Scott spoke with her head peeking over the couch.

"Pretty great."

It was the last day of Exam Season. Anxiety was thick in the air as students were flipping pages through their notes and textbooks. Others reciting their material out loud. Some scrambling to get an extra pen or pencil. The teachers came out of the assembly hall and ordered them to pack away anything that wasn't stationery. The students stood in two files, girls and boys.

Y/N pat down her skirt, repositioning her floppy bow and blazer. When she turned to her left, there stood Brady in his blazer, decorated with his rugby and academic badges. As he turned to face her, offering a small wave, there was discolouration around his eye. Not much of swelling, just tint. The bruise was fairly noticeable.

"Brady, what happened?" she whispered, eyes wide.

He gave her a kind smile. "Nothing serious. Got headbutted at the jol, that's all."

She rubbed his arm and gave him a sympathetic look. "Oh, I'm sorry."

Once they were all seated in the the assembly hall, the teachers walked around handing out the exam question papers and answer sheets. The students talked amongst themselves while they waited for the teachers to finish handing out papers, and read the examination rules.

Y/N leaned over to her right. Murphy and Rosanne inched closer and Caroline, who was seated behind her, leaned in as well.

"What happened to Brady?" Y/N whispered.

"Got roughhoused by San and Seonghwa." Murphy responded.

[ . . . ]

Hongjoong stood in the corner practicing his riffs. San and Seonghwa sat on the couch making jokes, cackling endlessly. The producer, Matt, sat in front of the soundboard, preparing for their recording session. They had been in the studio for about an hour and a half. Behind on their session, a paid one at that, everyone was growing impatient. An opportunity they had been awaiting and it was slipping away.

A ruckus from outside jolted everyone out of their train of thought. They all exchanged confused glances before what sounded like metal dustbins, clashed. Everyone moved from their positions and rushed outside. As Hongjoong pushed the metal door open, he was met with a sight of Wooyoung laying in a pile of rubbish, dustbins spilled over and another one crushed under his weight. In front of him stood Gareth, a session guitarist hired by Matt.

Seonghwa ran to Wooyoung's side, San pushing Gareth back to make distance. Wooyoung could barely hold himself up without losing balance, a bottle of Jack wrapped in a brown bag in his hand. A nasty bruise decorated his jawline.

"What is this? What the fuck is going on?" Hongjoong spoke.

"Get off of me!" Gareth growled as he shoved San. "Ask your friend." he pointed at Wooyoung. "Found him at the bar two blocks down. I was trying to get him here for recording."

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Wooyoung pushed Seonghwa, who was holding him up to stand.

"Dude you were supposed to be here like an hour ago." Matt spoke.

Hongjoong walked over to Wooyoung and grabbed him by his jacket. He shook him violently. "You said you'd be better if we got you alone with Y/N." he grit through his teeth. "San and Hwa even dealt with Brady. What's your problem?"

"You should learn to chill, Hong. Cranked so damn tight all the time." Wooyoung professed, his speech slurred.

"We looked the other way when you started doing coke 'cause your playing was still good." Hongjoong hissed, eyes laser-focused on Wooyoung. "But you've been a violent and miserable mess since Y/N left your sorry ass. Your playing is sloppy and you're holding us back." he pushed him up against the wall behind him, surprising Wooyoung and dropping his Jack Daniels on the concrete path. "You're out."

Hongjoong backed away from Wooyoung, turning his back to him and walking to the studio door. His eyes were wild as he could not believe what he had just heard, his words immediately sobering him up. He straightened himself up and slicked his hair back.

"The fuck do you mean I'm out?" Wooyoung croaked out.

"Pack your shit and go! You're out of the band." Hongjoong snapped. He disappeared into the building.

Wooyoung walked toward the door but San and Seonghwa blocked his path. He fought them relentlessly. "Move out of my way!" he screamed. "This band is nothing without me! You need me! I made you! VC was my idea!"

As Hongjoong returned from inside, he had Wooyoung dufflebag and guitar case in his hands. He threw his belongings on the ground. He stuck his hand in his back pocket and threw a small roll of bills on the dufflebag.

He pointed a finger at Wooyoung and said to San and Seonghwa. "Get him on the next bus back to Kialecombe. I don't wanna see his face ever again."

Hongjoong went back into the studio, Matt and Gareth following him. The door closed with a clank from the inside. San and Seonghwa let go of Wooyoung. He stood there, ears red and chest heaving. His anger raw and unmasked. San picked up Wooyoung's belongings and the put the money in his pocket.

"Sorry, dude." Seonghwa whispered. "We tried to talk him out of it."

"Yeah. You know how Hong gets when he sets his mind to something." San added.

Wooyoung screamed from the top of his lungs, frustration culminating to the point of nearly usurping his conscious mind for control over his body. The alcohol had evaporated out of his system in that second. He trudged down the alleyway, cursing under his breath. Not a single coherent thought in his head. All he could think of was ways to get back at Hongjoong. A stray dog strolled past him. He swung his foot back and railed it into the innocent, unsuspecting animal. A pained whimper filled the atmosphere.

San pushed Wooyoung in the back, causing him to stumble forward. "What the hell is the matter with you?" San yelled at him.

"Fuck off, San!" Wooyoung bit back. "He thinks he's hot shit. I'm gonna make him regret meeting me."

San and Seonghwa exchanged worried glances, Seonghwa shrugging his shoulders. They walked behind him as they accompanied him to the bus station. It wasn't long until he was on a bus back to Kialecombe, jotting down ideas on a piece of paper. He only had one goal mind and he was going to see to its fruition.

"My family's going to the Blue Coast for the December holidays. Ah!" Caroline shrieked. "I'm gonna get tanned and watch the dolphins. Argh, I can't wait!" she shook Rosanne as she spoke.

"I can't either, if it means you don't get to shake me for a month." Rosanne grumbled.

Caroline looked at Rosanne with a blank expression then unhanded her. She took a sip of her milkshake as she rolled her eyes. Y/N chuckled, popping another fry into her mouth. Rosanne smirked to herself, a small giggle escaping her mouth.

"Where are you going for the holidays?" Rosanne put forward to Y/N. "I'm going to Ivory Canyon with Murphy."

Y/N sipped her milkshake and cocked her head up. "Mom and I are flying to Old Western to look at flats for when I go to university next year." she stretched her arms out as a gesture of relaxation. "Then we're going to Torino Cape."

Caroline leaned over the table and put her hands under her head. "Oh my god and Torino is so fabulous this time of the year. There's always animals roaming the streets, it's wonderful."

As Y/N was about speak up, Murphy came running into the diner, the doorbell ringing. Everyone turned to watch Murphy as she ran toward their booth. She slid between the table and seater and planted herself beside Y/N, accidentally crushing her into the wall.

"Wooyoung got kicked out of Velvet Crowbar." Murphy announced with a smile plastered on her face.

Y/N's heart sank at the statement. Everyone's eyes grew wide, their gazes landing on Y/N who was visibly distraught. Caroline smacked Murphy's arm and shot her daggers.

"Tact, Murphy!" Caroline hissed.

"He had it coming after he abandoned Y/N when she... you know..." Murphy's voice trailed off, hinting at the abortion.

"It's okay, Care. Stuff happens." Y/N spoke through a halfhearted, uneasy smile.

It was not okay. As much as she wanted to move on from Wooyoung, a part of her was concerned for his well-being. Especially seeing how bent out of shape he was at Brady's party. Velvet Crowbar meant the world to him and he had his entire future riding on their success. Without them, where did he stand? Y/N could not allow herself to get sucked into Wooyoung's world again.

[ . . . ]

Curse her bleeding heart.

She opened the door after found herself knocking for the fifth time to no avail. It was unlocked. She peeked in, eyes scanning the living room. As her eyes wandered, studying Wooyoung's apartment. It had been months since she last came over. The sink was piled with unwashed dishes. Counter carrying empty pizza boxes.

It was far worse than she had imagined.

Her feet were leading her to the bedroom. Slowly pushing the door open, she was scared of what she might see. Her heart was thumping at an uncomfortable pace. Slow steady breaths. She dropped her backpack and rushed to the bed. Wooyoung was unconscious, body sprawled out. He only wore jeans. A string of blood stretched from his nostril to his upper lip. On the bedside stand was a silver tray covered with a white powder substance, and an empty bottle of Jack.

"Woo?" she shook him lightly.

No response.

"Woo? Woo, wake up!" she gripped his shoulders and shook him even more violently.

He was unresponsive.

She picked up the phone on the bedside stand and spin-dialed an emergency number. It rung for a few seconds, but those seconds felt like forever and a day to her. Finally, a woman's voice answered on the other end.

"Kialecombe General Hospital. How can-"

"I need an ambulance at five-five-three Concord Street, The Sands, floor two, unit ten." Y/N cried, trying her best to remain coherent for the operator.

"Okay, tell me what happened?"

"I- I got here and he was unconscious..." she cried more. "He's not waking up. There's empty bottles of alcohol, and drugs everywhere. Hi-his nose is bleeding. I think he overdosed."

"Do you feel a pulse? Is he breathing?"

She put her ear to his nose. No warm air brushing against her skin. Nothing.

"There's nothing!"

"An ambulance will be there in two minutes, hang tight."

Y/N hung up the phone and kept trying to wake Wooyoung up. He was in too deep and she was losing hope. She hit him in the chest repeatedly, crying and begging for him to wake up. Moving on was the last thing on her mind, she just wanted him to wake up.

"Woo, wake up! Wake up!" she pounded on his chest.

The living room door flew open as two paramedics rushed in. The stretcher was outside. They came in the bedroom. One of them pulled Y/N off Wooyoung, asking her stay aside. They carried him out and laid him on the stretcher and rushed out of the apartment complex. Wooyoung was loaded into the ambulance, the paramedics told her to get in the ambulance.

Once they arrived at the hospital, she was asked to stay in the waiting room. She paced up and down the space, fisting handfuls of her hair, cursing herself. She felt partially responsible because his spiral only occurred after their separation. Tears endlessly running down her face. Teeth biting the inside of her cheek. The other visitors in the waiting room were watching her. It felt as if she was coming undone at the seams of her being.

"Y/N, what happened? Mrs. Wentworth called and said you were here." Mrs. Scott took off her sunglasses, bringing Y/N out of her reverie.

She turned around and fell apart in her arms. She could not string together a sensical sentence. Everytime she opened her mouth, a sob would unleash. Mrs. Scott pressed her head against her chest, rubbing her back to calm her down.

"I went to g-go see W-Woo..." she lifted her head off her chest. "I was going to check on him b-because he got kicked out of the band. And then I found him in his b-bed..." she broke down again. "Mom, he wouldn't wake up." she stood a few inches away from her mom, watching her with glistening eyes. "He got worse after we broke up."

"No, no. This isn't your fault." Mrs. Scott held her shoulders and held her gaze. "He made his choice and you tried your best."

"Mom, you don't understand." she sniffled and wiped her tears away with her shirt's sleeve. "This would've never happened if we never broke up."

"You don't know that." she brought her daughter into a tight hug. "Listen, we need to leave, otherwise we'll miss our flight. Mrs. Wentworth will update us on his condition but Y/N, you can't be here. You've come so far, don't let this drag you back into the dark."

Y/N obliged as she nodded her head. They left the hospital and headed back home. She sat in the car with Mrs. Scott, sobbing into her chest, while the chauffeur loaded their luggage into the car. Soon enough, they were sitting in a plane to Old Western. The last image she saw in her head was of Wooyoung's unconscious body, before drifting off into slumber.

PART 3, READ HERE.

#ateez #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung angst #roguehongsami

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