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#and then watch her kill in self defense

thenobleclearlightbulb · 2 years

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Can I just say that I hope to god the actual abusers and people like Kyle Rittenhouse try to sue for defamation after the Depp v Heard case. You have to prove that what was said was wrong and that it was said with malicious intent. Do they really think no one’s going to find out more about who they really are when lawyers start looking into their past? Do they think their victims are going to be lying about their ptsd and ones like Megan Thee Stallion are going to have doctors say it was self inflicted? It takes a special type of selfcenteredness/narcissism (one that imo Amber Heard suffers from) to ignore those whose lives have be destroyed by their lust for power. I feel bad for the victims who will have to readdress their trauma to satisfy these people’s stupid wish, but they should know that they’re not Amber Heard and many of the people cheering ‘justice for johnny’ want to believe victims when they come forward and only switched after her story made no sense with all the evidence. Having one picture of a split lip or one doctor finding scarring is worth more than 100 videos of a possibly puffy face or a red face that has been altered or your abuser with drugs. And that is true to all the alleged victims who the media has said dropped cases against their alleged abusers. You are not Amber Heard. You are not going in to tell an unbelievable story of how you covered up and broken nose and split lip with make up. You did not buy the person you thought would kill you a deadly weapon (or at least you didn’t after realizing they might try to kill you). You did not send a video to the paparazzi and then claim you didn’t. But if you are in the 0.00001% like her and are trying to play the victim as a form of revenge or to get money its a good thing you dropped your case. She’s already fueled enough people who think victims are all liars and we don’t need to give them anything more.

And to anyone who hasn’t watched the trial I invite you to clear your head and take a couple of weeks to listen before making a decision on the matter. If you think Depp is perfect or Heard wasn’t at least majorly exaggerating then you haven’t watched it. The courthouse website should have all of the evidence in an unbiased format as well

#heard v depp #depp vs heard #depp v heard trial #defamation #seriously why does rittenhouse think he can sue the media for calling him a murderer #he is a murderer since self defense is a murder defense #I’m sure the dude has more guns now despite carrying guns leading to him killing people #super disappointed in all the dv organizations taking heard’s side when her accusations don’t come anywhere close to what happened #she would have won if she said he’d only ever caused bruises and he never hit her face #since those rings would have destroyed her bone structure and she still looks beautiful #I’ve seen victim after victim who’s watched the trial say they see more of their abuser in heard than depp #there’s no reason for these companies to be siding with her aside from the fear of feeding the misogyny machine #which is a valid fear that I have to but supporting liars just fuels the machine further #the only fix is to be truthful #teenage boys that see feminists supporting a bad liar will decide that feminism is the problem and not that one individual #women like heard might feel empowered knowing the movement will never desert them no matter what they say #heard is a poison in the movement to end abuse #she shouldn’t be replaced by depp but the movement should be throwing her as far away from them as possible #the movement needs to support actual victims #not wannabes #ok I’m done now

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azuneekun · 28 days

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STARDEW VALLEY BACHELOR/BACHELORETTE (personal) HEADCANONS:

Maru

Is a registered nurse, but is working to become a medicinal and environmental researcher like her father (Professor Demetrius).

Robotics, Electrical engineering and Astronomy are just a few of her hobbies and passions.

Afraid of getting real piercings, so Sebastian gifted her clip-ons.

Doesn’t trust newer computers, unlike her brother.

She is nearsighted and has astigmatism.

She goes stargazing in hopes of finding signs of extraterrestrial life. Or just to see if she can spot a certain flying robot.

Used to follow her brother Sebastian around a lot when she was very young, but his troublemaking behavior made Maru distance herself. She still cares about him.

Loves helping the farmer with building farming machines.

Loves spending time with her best friend Penny and talking about books and trivia together.

Other than tinkering with gadgets, she also enjoys doing puzzles.

Penny

Could not afford finishing her teaching course in college due to financial troubles.

Saving up money in her tutoring job to become an elementary school teacher.

Her father abandoned them due to feeling ‘trapped’. It happened around fall—so she feels melancholic during that season.

Likes cooking but is a novice at it.

She and Emily do arts and crafts together in the library and or the (fixed) community center. (For the kids and for event decorations.)

She has a slight southern accent.

Elliott and her like to swap book recommendations.

Loves listening to Maru infodumping about her trivia and interests. She teaches them to Jas and Vincent in return.

She likes to do crossword puzzles under the tree near the graveyard.

She prefers to wear skirts.

She influenced Jas and Vincent to have an interest in archeology, thanks to her own fondness of it.

Abigail

Pets every animal they see. Sanitizes herself right away before going home due to Pierre's allergies.

Sometimes helps her dad with the general store. Pierre gives her some money in return.

Abigail loves to draw and sometimes likes to join art competitions.

Enjoys the occult and fortune telling. Has some magical ability, but is not fully aware of it.

She plays the flute and the drums.

Loves adventuring, but feels guilty killing monsters (even out of self defense). Will make graves or offer prayers to put their souls to rest.

Very interested in monsters and loves reading about them.

She has a sweet tooth; minerals taste like candy to her. She also loves spicy food from time to time.

Gets sunburnt easily.

Leah

Used to be hired as an illustrator for books in Zuzu City.

Is under apprenticeship with Robin.

Loves using different painting mediums. Current favorites are charcoal, oil painting, and watercolors.

Experienced forager—she adores making vegetable/fruit salads and stir-frys out of them.

Likes to drink the wine sold by the farmer and the saloon.

She is left handed.

She makes her own special homemade vinaigrette.

Has her own mini-garden.

Loves to help the farmer with crafting artisan equipment that involves wood (eg: kegs, preserve jars, casks, and etc.)

Emily

The unofficial hair stylist (and barberess) of the townies. (HC adopted from @/moon-boat)

Has some real spiritual power and foresight.

Her prophetic visions mostly appear in her dreams.

Knows supernatural beings and Junimo exist (and has seen them) but opts not to tell anyone directly for the creatures’ safety. (Likes to give subtle hints, though.)

Can genuinely communicate with birds and flowers.

Is very good at arts and crafts and helps decorate the festivals often.

Vegetarian. Likes to cook vegetarian dishes.

She's a very talented dancer, and she likes to do her choreography in secret.

Sandy sells the clothes she makes. Haley advertises them on her blog.

Loves all animals—especially birds.

She likes clowns and circuses.

Is very meticulous about cleanliness and housework.

Is incredibly scared of watching horror movies.

Haley

A talented cook that loves baking sweets.

Is a social media influencer. She has a popular Instagram account called StarfruitHaley and a Youtube channel named Cooking Junimo.

Likes drinking peppermint coffee and eating cupcakes.

She is a picky eater.

Learned to dance from Emily.

She and Emily are taiwanese-americans.

Her hair is dyed blonde and she wears contacts.

Freelance model, but likes doing photography more.

Does photography gigs sometimes.

Secretly admires her sister's dancing, but doesn't want to lose to her during the Flower dance.

Likes to go surfing during the summer time. (HC adopted from @/sofiaruelle )

Closeted lesbian, but came out proudly once she started to live in the valley.

Bunnies and Ponies are her favorite animals.

Shane

Prefers keeping people at a distance (so it doesn’t hurt him if he loses them), but is weak to persistent people. Prefers keeping people at a distance (so it doesn’t hurt him when he loses them), but is weak to persistent people. (eg: Emily, Sam, the farmer)

Is very good friends with Emily. Likes to joke around and share chicken stories with her.

Lost a sports scholarship in university due to injury, so he dropped out. (He took a course in multimedia arts, hence his 7 ♡ event.)

Likes to collect funny printed boxers.

Wears old clothes until they tear apart.

Doesn't bother combing his hair much.

Takes care of the animals when Marnie's not around, and teaches Jas about the ranch while he’s at it.

Most of his savings are for Jas and Marnie.

Has calloused hands from hard work.

He likes to use nicknames. Both derogatively and affectionately. (e.g. Sweetheart, Chickadee, Doll, Buddy , Asshole, Jockstrap (Alex specific), Dickhead, Kid)

Shane has excellent upper body strength due to lifting heavy boxes at work, and sacks of feed at the ranch.

Jas’ mother is his older sibling. Marnie is his father's younger sister.

In the future, his beautiful blue chickens will become recognized as a standardized breed by the farming community.

Harvey

Used to be a surgical oncologist. Left this position due to emotional distress.

Came from a prestigious family of doctors, lawyers, and professors.

Has a twin brother. ( HC adopted from @/coinly )

Loves science, history, and the documentary channels.

He used to be in a long term relationship but it ended due to LDR.

He can cook but doesn't feel happy eating by himself—so he just heats up frozen meals.

He smells like nice soap and hand sanitizer.

Has a wonderful singing deep voice. (HC adopted from @/hannahstumble )

Likes to drink wine every once in a while to relax.

Jazz music is calming to him. He owns many cassettes of the classics.

Elliott

Was a music professor in a private university.

Is from a wealthy family, but left to become more independent.

Humble and isn't very materialistic, but is very strict with his well-kept appearance.

Keeps his pencils so sharp it might as well be a weapon.

Isn't very good at taking care of plants, but is learning how to.

A little clumsy with housework and repairs, but tries to keep tidy.

His favorite pastime with his father was fishing.

Likes to drink, but can’t hold his liquor at all.

In his youth, he has gotten some recognition for his published short stories and poetry, but has yet to make a full length novel.

Commissions and collaborates with Leah on art and ideas for his books.

His piano actually came from Robin's. Sebastian used to own it but preferred playing the synth now.

Sebastian

Is very skillfull at using a knife (for fish and seafood).

He is a lazy genius.

His Korean name is Seojun. His biological father tried bringing him to his home country when he and Robin divorced, but Sebastian opted to stay with his mother.

He loves cats as much as frogs and bats.

Sleeps very messily. Ends up in weird positions on the bed, with pillows dropped onto the floor.

Loves exploring the mines and wants to join the Adventurer's guild in the future.

Does his (and his friends') piercings.

Has a long deep scar on his left leg due to a rock crab.

The town go-to mechanic, alongside Maru.

He’s jealous of Maru, but doesn’t hate her. Doesn’t know how to express himself, so they end up fighting. He thinks he’s not the best older brother to have.

Insomniac. Needs medication to help sleep, sometimes.

Likes to tease and scare people.

Also gets sunburnt easily—but in return doesn’t get affected by the cold weather as much.

Best billiards player in Stardew.

Alex

Has dyslexia, but is not aware of it (until the farmer points it out).

Likes to help cook with his grandma.

Makes and sells his own icecream.

Is the local town mailman. (HC adopted from @/ryllen )

Childhood friends with Haley, but pretended to be her boyfriend in HS to shield her from men (as per her wishes).

Not only was he a varsity quarterback for gridball, but he was also an ace baseball player.

One of his favorite pastimes is watching the gridball game every Sunday.

Thinking about saving money to go to a vocational college or getting a scholarship.

Interested in becoming a physical fitness coach if his dreams to go to the league fall through.

Afraid of being vulnerable to people, because he wants to be seen as strong and reliable.

Sam

A popular boy in school.

Was influenced into loving music due to Sebastian.

Likes flowers but has severe hay fever.

Has a scar on his eyebrow from a skateboard accident.

Loves his mom's largemouth bass fish casserole.

Thinks being a submarine captain might be cool as a job (thanks to the night market), but would prefer being in the music industry.

Likes to DJ and compose his own music.

A little forgetful, so his wrists and hands are full of scribbles and rubber bands as reminders.

Likes cactuses and the flowers that bloom from it (and especially loves cactus fruit).

Him and Alex both like to collect branded sports shoes, and talk about it together sometimes.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

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I know your requests are closed so feel free to ignore this but if I don’t type it somewhere I WILL forget it lol. I’ve been re-binge reading your works and just thought of this…

Civilian reader kills someone out of self defense for the first time. And it’s the whole staring at her bloody shaking hands panic attack what have I done fiasco. And her boyfriend or husband helping her through it and dealing with it all (I can see it with Ghost or Price idk)

But yeah feel free to ignore, I know your requests are closed rn

Love your work! You are so talented!

This has been in my inbox for so long, lmao. Sorry for not answering right away - take a few paragraphs w. soft, worried, Simon in compensation.

Warnings for gore, death, blood, panic attack, etc. F!Reader.

Your body shakes violently, blood dripping down like crimson tears from your hands. The overwhelming sense of dread sits with bullet fragment aggression in the delicate make-up of your psyche.

You weren't meant for this.

Not the blood or the terror. Certainly not the body laying out in the hallway.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp out, shuddering as your throat swells in on itself. Your form had slipped down the wall just across from the door not minutes prior, legs weak and heart pounding like a war call. Now all you can do is stare into the vacant eyes of some random burglar—at the knife you'd stuck in his chest when he'd backed you into Simon's office.

It was a miracle that you remembered where your husband's combat blade had been, seen on some off chance when you'd been cleaning. He tries to keep this all separate, you know.

The blood just keeps slipping out of the corpse. It's a pool now, and you don't know how long you'd been huddled like this until the sounds of rampaging feet and hurried yells of your name bounce off your eardrums.

All you can see is the uncleanable amount of red.

Simon had only gone out to the corner store half an hour ago, getting a quick supper so you both could sit in each other's company. You'd been hesitant to watch him leave so soon after getting home, but he'd sworn he'd only be a few minutes.

None of you had thought too much about the local break-ins. After all, Simon was...well, Simon. And he was home.

S-Simon was home.

There's a loud, barked, curse when the body is discovered, stomping feet that make the entire house shake like it was the epicenter of an earthquake. Your husband's form slashes the front of your vision as he kneels in the blood on the floor. Frantic brown eyes behind his balaclava snap from place to place; taking in the familiar handle and blade in nanoseconds. In his left hand he clutches a pistol, white-knuckled.

But you can't even say anything, because you're as still as stone—breathing in concrete as the gravel shreds your vocal cords and trachea. Reality slips in quick streaks of color as Simon's face flashes into the open doorway.

He sees your wide eyes with a mirroring of his own, bone-deep fear striking in his head with a heated pulse.

"Love!" Simon's rushing to you. Your body can't help but startle back, spine shoving into the wall; fingers still saturated and stained.

Inside your chest, your lungs jerk in a strained whimper.

Your husband freezes, one foot ahead with his widened legs as he fights his mind to rush to you and take you into his arms. Simon puts the gun away with little thought to look for more assailants—all that matters is you.

And you looked terrified.

"Hey," hands reach up to this balaclava, slipping the fabric off as he kneels down slowly to one leg. He tosses it to the floor and you try to focus on the strength of his jaw; those scars and pale hairs as your eyes well with tears. A delicate sob builds. "Hey, now. It's just me, alright?"

Simon speaks softly, hands splayed out and a few feet from you. He wishes to hold you tightly but refrains even as his chest tightens at not being able to calm you. The man can't stand that look on your face.

Your fingers curl into shivering fists, "Simon," you cry, finally able to get a solid word out even if it sounds slurred and ragged.

It's all the permission your husband needs.

Simon jerks forward and takes you up into his large arms; the wide encompassing of his palm on the back of your head and the other circling your waist. He angles you away from the body as he glares into it with hatred and vile curses, hissing venom.

When he found the door busted off its hinges, he'd never felt so panicked. Even now as you release a small wail into his neck Simon's heart races, breath coming in short puffs.

"You're alright, Sweetheart. You're alright. I'm right 'ere." You sag into him, grabbing at his leather jacket with nails digging into the brown material. Simon nuzzles his nose into your scalp, muscles tense, "Breathe, it's over."

All you can focus on is Simon's scent, his words. They're the only thing keeping you from oblivion. Eventually, as your husband rocks you back and forth, you can gasp enough air down to push away the black at the sides of your vision.

"That's right," he whispers, gritting his teeth. "Good girl, keep focusin' on me, yeah? You're doin' perfect." Simon doesn't care about the blood or the screams of sirens in the distance.

For the first time in his life, he doesn't care if someone else happens to see his face.

Your husband pulls his head back and shifts his hold to your cheeks, angling your runny and chilled face upwards. He grits his teeth and his eyes bleed with concern; fear.

"...He do anything?" You can only make out half the words as the sounds all huddle together in a ringing tone, but you shake your head in small flinches. Lips find your forehead—heated and firm. Muttered words. "Did so good, Love, I'm so proud of you. S'not your fuckin' fault, you hear?"

Sniffling, you only whimper once more before lips kiss away your tears; thumbs coming up after to swipe at the remnants. Curling over you, this beast—defined so often as ruthless and deadly—shields you from the image of the man you'd killed in self-defense like a demon of smoke and ash. Holding you as if he can make everything else disappear.

After all, you weren't meant for this. You were meant for your soft skin and your loving eyes. Everything else that Simon tied himself to you for—goodness.

"Simon," you gasp again and shove your face into his chest. For the life of you, you can't say anything else. He knows what you mean.

"I'm here," he repeats. Caressing the back of your head, his hand tenses and softens with leaving adreanaline. "Nothin'll happen to you again. It's all gonna be alright."

You believe him.

#halcyone answers #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #x female reader #cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you

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cheesesoda · 9 months

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resident evil men as parents!

a/n: i had this idea randomly so i wanted to write some headcanons 💪 lmk if you wanna see the girls as parents! (i might edit these headcanons and add more later too)

cw: slight mention of smoking and alcohol

genre: fluff, headcanons/blurb

______________________________________________

leon kennedy

leon is a girl dad!

cried when she was born

from when she was born until age 1 he would just go into her room at night and watch her sleep

he spoils her fr

youll come home late from work (well past her bedtime)

there they are making ice cream sundaes in the kitchen

he participates in tea parties and he enjoys it

he tells even MORE dad jokes now

very protective

tries to drink less after his daughter is born

chris redfield

chris is a girl and boy dad!

i think he has 1 boy (older) and 1 girl (younger)

like him and claire

was in awe when his kids were born

“oh my god she/he’s so small”

auntie claire babysits all the time

teaches his son to play football

honestly i think he’d be protective of his daughter but not as much as the others because he would teach her self defense from a young age

ethan winters

ethan is a girl dad! (which we already knew)

we already know what hes like as a dad but i’ll still write a bit for him

100% cried so hard when his daughter was born

best husband and father

definitely bought every brand of diapers because he didnt know what to get

hes very affectionate and caring to his daughter

i don’t see him as the type of dad to kill any guy who speaks to her once shes older

if someone breaks her heart tho mans just might kill

albert wesker

wesker is a boy dad!

very calm when he was born

not very affectionate

he does care he just doesn’t show it very well

luis sera

luis is a girl and boy dad!

i think he’d have 2 or 3 kids

if he had 2 kids, he’d have 1 girl (older) and 1 boy (younger)

if he had 3 kids, he’d have 2 girls (oldest & youngest) and 1 boy (middle)

definitely sets a very high bar for how his daughter/s should be treated

teaches his son to be a gentleman definitely

loves all his kids so much

smokes less after his kids are born and would rather die than expose them to cigarette smoke especially when they’re babies

carlos oliveira

carlos is a girl and boy dad!

you cannot tell me this man does not want a village of children

he would probably have 4 kids

i think he’d have 3 boys and 1 girl

has the biggest soft spot for his kids

he’s very non-toxic masculine with his sons

he always tells them he loves them, hugs them, etc.

he also has tea parties with his daughter

#resident evil #leon kennedy #chris redfield #ethan winters #luis sera #carlos oliveira #albert wesker #leon kennedy x reader #ethan winters x reader #chris redfield x reader #luis sera x reader #carlos oliveria x reader #albert wesker x reader #resident evil headcanons #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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Your wolf king husband defends your honor

General Plot: A visiting king and his son start trouble with Joel and Sterling

Wolf King (Sterling) x female bunny reader

Word Count: 2.5k

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

W: sfw werewolf fluff, some fighting

“I’m going to grind you into mush!” Joel shouted and your attention flickered from the servant holding china patterns for you to choose across the garden where he should have been playing.

“Joel! Get off of him!” you howled as you rushed across the lawn in your fluffy dress. You hurriedly tried to peel your newly adopted son off of the lion cub he was pummeling. Hearing your voice he threw another solid punch into the cub’s nose before standing in front of you defensively, growling and frothing at the mouth.

“She’s not a real queen!” the lion cub, who happened to be the son of a visiting King pouted, smearing the blood that was running down his nose across his face. Joel had done a number on the slightly larger cub, leaving him with a big black eye in addition to the bloody nose.

“I’m telling my father! We’ll- we’ll go to war with you and then I’ll eat her for dinner!” he cried as he ran away.

You sighed watching the little prince go before turning your attention to Joel.

“Baby, what’s going on?” you asked, turning his face to you to examine the little scratches the cub had given him trying to fight back.

“He said you’re not my momma and that a herbivore can’t even be Queen, but he’s wrong. You are Queen and you are my momma!”

You sighed, pulling him into your skirt and giving him a hug before reprimanding him.

“While I agree with you,” you stated, “being a Prince means you have to use your words not your fists. You can’t start a whole war over me!”

He pouted up at you.

“Yes I CAN!” he snapped back at you.

You frowned and he at least looked a little contrite.

“Do not raise your voice at me Joel,” you said firmly.

He pouted but nodded.

“Now let’s get you to the doctor to look after your cuts,” you said, taking his hand and leading him out of the castle garden.

“He doesn’t know anything,” Joel said to you, squeezing your hand as you made your way through the castle, “he’s just a stupid lion. If he starts a war with me, I’m starting a war with him and MY daddy will win!”

“There will be no wars,” you assured him, carefully hiding your smile. It was sweet that he was so protective of you. He’d declared himself your hero and went all around the castle correcting anyone who dared disrespect you.

“We still have to have dinner with King Harold and his son this evening. It’s your duty as a prince to receive your guests with kindness and grace.”

“But he disrespected you!” he argued.

“Lots of people disrespect me, but I don’t go around punching every one of them in the nose!” you replied.

He laughed.

“Of course not! You’re a bunny! That’s my job! I’m a strong wolf. I will protect you.”

You wouldn’t lower his self esteem telling him he wasn’t quite a strong wolf, yet.

“Sometimes we can protect people with words,” you explained, “you don’t have to fight everyone.”

Joel bit his lip and you hoped he’d heard what you were trying to teach him as you showed the doctor the cuts and bruises he’d gathered.

“How dare you?!” a high pitched voice echoed in the doctor’s office and a very angry looking lion Queen came barging in holding the lion prince in her arms as if he were just a baby despite his size. Her eyes immediately focused on you as you placed yourself between her and Joel.

“That child is a monster! Look what he did to my boy!” she snarled and the sniveling prince peeked out over her arms looking as pathetic as he could, “he’s just like his mother! Unhinged! Unstable! A complete disgrace!”

You had to hold in your sigh as the little boy appeared to be just fine, just with a few bruises, but everyone knew about Joel’s biological mother. How she’d gone mad and tried to set the castle on fire, in the end killing herself and several servants. She’d never been well liked to start with. She was a cruel wolf despite Sterling’s attempts to tame her and her legacy hung over Joel like a dark cloud.

“I'm very sorry Amelia,” you said trying to placate the visiting Queen, “the boys were just roughhousing and I think things got out of hand. Joel is very sorry.”

“No I’m not!” Joel announced from behind you.

“Well of course the boy is running wild with a weak mother…if I can even call you that!” she snapped, glaring at you, “and it’s QUEEN Amelia to you.”

You tried not to narrow your eyes at her, Joel was technically in the wrong, but the little cub should have been well trained enough not to insult another prince in his own castle. Trying to be diplomatic, you brushed the insults away, turning your attention to the doctor.

“I think he’s finished with Joel, Amelia,” you said evenly, “let’s have the doctor have a look at those bruises. I’m sure a lion cub can withstand a couple of bumps, don’t you? Or is Joel that much stronger than him?”

Amelia looked like she would have eaten you whole if she could, but you didn’t bother sticking around to continue taunting her, picking Joel up and plopping him on the floor so you could guide him out of the doctor’s office.

“I told you lions are jerks,” Joel pouted as you made your way to your living quarters, hoping to keep the precocious pup occupied until dinner.

“It’s not right to say all lions are jerks, you don’t know all lions,” you said and then gave him a little smile, “only she is a jerk.”

Joel grinned up at you and you gave his hand a conspiratorial squeeze.

—

Dinner started about as well as you had expected, which was not great. Amelia shot lasers at you from across the table, while Joel made faces at the little lion cub, whose name was Harry, after his father.

“The chicken is dry, take it away and bring me another,” Amelia complained to your servants and with a flick of your eyes you gave your servant your approval to replace it.

It had taken some time for the carnivores in the castle to accept you as their Queen, but the herbivores, which made up most of the staff adopted you immediately, thrilled to have a bunny represented in the aristocracy. They were always hovering around you, worried that you weren’t being cared for properly.

A sheep servant gracefully set a new plate of chicken in front of Queen Amelia and you smiled your thanks.

“I heard the boys had a bit of a tussle today,” Sterling said as he worked on his steak and you winced, hoping no one would bring it up.

“Yes,” Amelia snarled, “your brat attacked my son and his so-called mother did absolutely nothing about it!”

“Well of course not, Amelia,” Harold spat, “she’s just a bunny with a crown, what do you expect her to do with a wild wolf pup? He needs a carnivore mother to keep him in line.”

“Maybe the boy is just too young to play with Joel,” Sterling commented, “Joel’s quite a bit stronger. I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt the young prince. He just doesn’t know his strength and didn’t realize he needed to be delicate with him.”

“Are you implying my son is weak?!” Harold snapped.

Sterling shrugged.

“I’m only stating the obvious,” he said, “your boy lost the fight, he’s clearly not at Joel’s level.”

Harold’s eyes flashed and his fork dropped.

“My boy is NOT weak! Your son is a little monster, just like his mother,” he snapped.

Sterling held back a growl, but he bared a sliver of fang.

“His mother is sitting at the table with us and she is very gentle, I assure you,” he said, glancing over at you.

You gave him a small pleading smile to stop this nonsense, but he only winked at you.

“It’s unnatural,” Harold growled, “a herbivore mothering a carnivore…”

“Your son’s nanny is a herbivore, is she not?” Sterling went on, poking the proverbial bear, “I’m sure she does more mothering than Amelia. I’m told she spends most of her time drunk…that’s probably why your son is so weak. He’s got poor role models.”

Amelia growled, but it couldn’t be denied that she’d already had a whole bottle of wine by herself, not to mention whatever she drank before dinner.

Trying desperately to guide the conversation elsewhere you inquired after Amelia’s meal.

“Is the chicken better?” you asked, looking up from your mushroom bolognese.

“No,” she snapped, “but of course a staff full of herbivores wouldn’t know how to cook meat properly. It’s disgusting. You should have carnivore cooks.”

She glared at Sterling.

“Are you letting this silly herbivore drain this castle of what’s left of its dignity?”

“Queen (Y/N) has arranged a healthy, delicious meal that suits our tastes just fine,” he snapped, “perhaps the wine has dulled your senses.”

“What are you implying?” Harold growled.

“I’m not implying anything,” he snapped back, “I’m very clearly stating that your drunk wife can’t taste anything but spirits. Our cooks can’t perform miracles!”

At that Harold jumped up from the table and bared his teeth.

“Say that again, I dare you!” he snarled.

“Your wife is a lush, and that’s why your son is soft,” he hissed back.

You quickly looked at Joel who was watching the whole interaction with interest. When you glanced back Harold was flying across the table at Sterling, who was happy to receive him with a punch to the jaw. The two of them hit the ground in a pile of fists and fur and you quickly gathered Joel as your guards surrounded the two of you.

For his part Joel was cheering his dad on, grinning from ear to ear.

You couldn’t help but be frightened by the fight, but Sterling was significantly more fit than the lazy lion king and quickly had him pinned, while the rest of your guards surrounded Amelia and her son. Sparing the children the sight of his throat being ripped out in front of them, Sterling had the foreign king arrested and taken to the dungeon, while his wife and son were sequestered in their quarters.

—

“What sort of example are you setting for Joel?” you pouted as you swabbed one of Sterling’s cuts with some cleanser, “I just got done telling him he can’t fight everyone!”

He gave you a big grin. He didn’t need you to patch him up, but he liked when you did. So he’d forgone the doctor and you were standing in his bedroom while he sat on his bed applying ointment to his cuts.

“He came at me first!” he argued, smirking at you, “I had to defend myself!”

You crossed your arms and gave him a look.

“You provoked him and you know it!” you said.

He snorted and waved his hand, sweeping you towards him by the waist with the other.

“He provoked me,” he said, one hand drifting up to play with your ear, as he seemed to like to do, “no one insults my Queen and the mother of my child and certainly not in my own castle.”

“Fine,” you said, sighing, “but what now? You’ve probably started a war!”

He shrugged.

“We were going to war anyways. They came here with a bad attitude, intending to start trouble, not to make peace.”

His fingers dropped to cup your chin.

“And it was worth every lick to defend your honor.”

Your cheeks warmed and you fluttered your eyelashes finding somewhere else to look.

“I’m not worth a whole war,” you muttered, focusing on his shoulder and brushing off a bit of dirt.

He made a noise in the back of his throat.

“Look at me,” he said a bit more gently, holding your chin between his large fingers he met your eyes with his shining black orbs, “you are worth this whole kingdom and more. You’re the glue that holds this family together and always have been, since Joel was just a baby and Gina…It doesn’t matter what you eat or what kind of teeth you have. You’re worth a thousand of those lions.”

You balked a bit that Sterling didn’t even refer to her as Joel’s mother anymore.

“I can’t do what I need to do without you and I don’t want to,” he went on, focusing on you again, “you are everything to me and Joel.”

He leaned in to you and brushed his lips over yours. You gasped into his mouth as this was the first physical affection he’d shown you since you’d become Queen. You didn’t think romance would be part of your new job, that it was all just for Joel’s sake, but your heart pounded in your chest as warmth spread over you. He gave you another light kiss and leaned back to look at you, fingering your long ear gently.

“So yes, I will take an insult to you as if I’d been insulted personally and I will defend you until the day I die,” he promised, squeezing your waist and holding you to him, “even if I have to go to war to do it.”

Then he winked at you, his usual mischievousness returning.

“And don’t bother fussing about it,” he said, “we’re going to show those lazy lions exactly how wolves protect what’s theirs, and we’ve already captured their King, so I anticipate it will be short. You’re a strong, elegant, beautiful Queen and the people love you. Don’t ever doubt yourself.”

You nodded a bit weakly at him, a smile sneaking its way onto your lips. He gave you a gentle look and smiled back.

“Momma! Did you see how Daddy took down that stupid lion!” Joel exclaimed, barrelling into the room, oblivious to the rising tension.

“Yes, I saw,” you sighed, gathering Joel in your arms and giving him a little smile, “your father is very, very impressive and we are lucky to have him.”

tag: @pinkrose1422

#monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x reader #werewolf #wolf #yandere male #yandere #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x female reader #werewolf x reader #fantasy fluff

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lostfracturess · 15 days

Text

symptoms and causes | ch. 11

x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)

x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

x wc 13.5 k (enjoy your meal lol)

x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note hey loves!! thank you so much for your patience, i know it's been a while. buckle up, because we're taking another trip inside satoru's mind, so yeahhh. it's gonna be wild, oh and we're continuing right were we left off in the last chapter. this chapter is again in satoru's pov!! i've also updated the trigger warnings, so please take a look before reading (might be spoiling tho). and lastly, credit to the fanart in the cover, if you know the artist, pls let me know!! can't wait to hear what you all think & thanks for sticking with me!! ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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They say before you can love someone else, you have to love yourself first.

And there lies the damn problem.

I don't know how.

Never have.

Why am I thinking this now?

I knew this was right.

Right for her.

But then why does my heart feel like it's being ripped out by the fucking roots?

Suguru will take care of her. He always does. That's the only thing that keeps me from screaming, keeps me from chasing after her.

I trust him, damn it, but it shouldn't be him.

It should be me holding her. Me, who knows how she likes to be held when the panic claws its way up. Me, holding her until the world feels less sharp, less cruel.

Me, who knows that she doesn't want to talk about it. Me, who knows to give her space. She needs space. My strong girl needs space first.

I hope he gives her space.

But he wouldn't know any of this. He couldn't comfort her in the ways I instinctively knew how.

Me, who knows how to soothe the invisible wounds, the ones even she denies exist. Me, who knows the soft words she needs to hear after it passes.

It shouldn't be him.

Sorry.

It shouldn't have been him.

Past tense.

It all might be past tense now.

And the thought is more than I could bear.

Shattered.

Was that the word?

Was there even a word for what I felt in that moment?

How could I ever convey this suffocating agony that's tearing me apart with mere words?

Words are meaningless in the end.

Meaningless when they couldn't be spoken to her, couldn't reach her, couldn't make her understand, couldn't heal the wound I'd carved into her heart.

So, yeah, maybe shattered is the right word.

The wrong word.

The sterile air was acid in my lungs. Each ragged breath felt like sandpaper against my throat. I held my breath, a desperate plea for the world to stop spinning, for the clock to rewind, for a chance to undo everything.

But time doesn't care.

It marched on, relentless, while I stayed trapped in this hell, drowning in the mess I made.

My lungs burned. My vision blurred. I waited until she disappeared. The world seemed to tilt sideways, losing all color and shape, leaving only the sharp, agonizing realization that I'd made her walk away.

I didn't want to breathe anymore.

Not in a world where every breath ached without her.

"Dr. Gojo?" A voice, distant, muffled.

Irrelevant.

My gaze flickered to Sukuna. He watched, a predator savoring the kill.

His twisted smile fueled rage within me. But there would be no fighting this. No grand defense. Not when her life was the bargaining chip.

So, I lied.

Each word a nail in the coffin of the connection I craved more than life itself.

Each word a drop of poison forced down my throat. A self-inflicted wound, a desperate mutilation of the only thing that had ever felt real.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes I loved so fiercely, wide with confusion and horror. The strangled gasp, the way her body went limp in Geto's arms — a haunting image that would forever be etched on my heart.

Muscles screamed, a silent protest against my own pathetic stillness. But I remained frozen.

This was my punishment.

I had to watch her leave, had to sear the pain into my very being, an endless penance for the choices I'd made.

The door clicked shut behind them.

That simple sound, final, absolute.

My lungs filled with air, a betrayal. Oxygen I didn't deserve, didn't want.

My own body, this treacherous thing kept going, kept me alive against my will, kept me tethered to this cruel reality.

The room swam back into focus, the judges' accusing faces nothing but a blurry backdrop. The sounds of their inquest washed over me like meaningless noise.

"Dr. Gojo? Can we continue?"

I nodded.

They pressed on. More questions about the research, her involvement, their accusations of favoritism.

How stupid.

Of course, I favored her.

How could I not?

She is everything.

Oh, sorry. Forgot. Past tense.

She was everything.

Did I regret it?

Did I wish I could go back and treat her with the same damn indifference I afforded everyone else?

Yeah, maybe.

A familiar craving stirred my senses, the desperate need for the numbing escape that would mean failing her even more. My fingers clawed at my forearm, trying to replace the hollowness with physical pain. It wasn't enough.

My responses were rote, mechanical.

Yeah, I favored her.

Yeah, I let her into the OR because of it.

Yeah, and she outshone every damn surgeon twice her age.

No, she didn't know I'd set it up.

No, she never asked for special treatment. She just worked until her eyes were bloodshot, pushing harder than anyone else.

And hell no, she didn't do a single thing wrong.

Except maybe — maybe loving me.

After what felt like an eternity, the judges seemed satisfied, or perhaps just exhausted by my robotic replies.

They painted me the arrogant professor with a weakness for a young student, who abused his power, who played favorites.

Whatever they wanted to believe, fine.

Didn't even have the energy to care anymore.

Let them drag my name through the mud, tarnish the reputation I'd worked so hard to build.

Because the title, the position, the facade of success meant nothing when all I wanted was to rewind time, to undo the damage I'd done to the one person who truly mattered.

I didn't feel anymore.

I was done.

─── ·✧· ───

I burst out of the courtroom.

I needed escape, not just from this sterile prison of a room, but from my own traitorous flesh.

That itch.

It was a wildfire beneath my skin, a thousand insects gnawing their way to the surface. My fingers twitched, claws desperate to tear, to bleed out the poison of this relentless craving.

My legs moved without conscious thought, pushing me towards my office. Somewhere. Anywhere I would be able to breathe again. The guilt was a serrated blade twisting in my gut, each movement slicing me open anew.

Her terror-stricken eyes seared into my very soul.

The walls of my office closed in, the familiar space suddenly too small, too suffocating.

My fist slammed into the desk. Papers scattered to the floor, a meaningless sea of white against the dark wood.

They didn't matter. None of it mattered.

A half-finished coffee mug followed. Porcelain shattered. Dark liquid splashed against the wall.

My blood roared in my ears.

Across the room, my framed diploma. I ripped it off the wall. Glass smashed. Sharp edges bit into my palm, drawing blood. But it wasn't enough. I hurled the frame against the wall.

Blood, hot and slick, coated my hands, the pain nothing.

In the shattered frame, I caught a glimpse of myself — wild eyes in a sweat-slicked face, a man on the verge of collapse.

It was a stranger.

I was across the room before I even registered the decision.

The drawer.

My fingers ripped it open.

There, like a coiled viper, the amber vial gleamed, a venomous promise of oblivion.

Don't —

Don't come at me now.

Did you really think I wouldn't keep a backup?

My hand reached, then hesitated.

The world lurched to a sharp halt as a knock pierced the chaos. My breath hitched, the vial a burning brand in my bloodied hand.

The door creaked open.

And there he was. Sukuna.

He leaned against the doorframe, that sickening smirk plastered on his face. It was like a lit fuse to a powder keg. The rage that had been gnawing at my insides, tearing me apart, finally found its target.

Before a single rational thought could form, I was on him. Fist to jaw, heard the crack, felt it in my knuckles. He stumbled back, the smirk finally wiping off his face.

I pinned him against the door. Forearm across his throat, crushing his windpipe. His eyes widened, but even then, there was that damn flicker of amusement.

"Well, well," he choked out, "this is a nice welcome back."

"Funny to you?"

He coughed, a harsh laugh scraping out of him. "C'mon, Satoru, relax. I did you a favor," he sputtered. "Your precious little student, she's better off now. You know I'm right."

Every muscle in my body tensed.

He was right.

In his twisted way, he was.

And that's what made it all so much worse.

My grip on his throat tightened. But there was nothing, no satisfactio, no release in the violence.

Sukuna saw it, the hesitation. His mouth twisted into a smirk again. "See, you get it. Sweet thing doesn't belong in this mess, does she? It's not for her, Satoru. It's for us."

His words scraped like nails on a chalkboard.

Yes, she was safer now, untouched by the rot that festered within me. Some desperate, logical part of me clung to that. But how could I hold on to that when my heart was screaming for her closeness?

"Or maybe," Sukuna drawled, pushing the knife deeper, "maybe you wanted to see where this goes. Stain her a bit, make her just a little bit more like you."

My breath hitched. For a split second, the floor vanished beneath me.

"Hit a nerve, did I?"

"Shut the hell up!" I couldn't face it, couldn't face the ugly truth as it would tear me apart. "You twist everything. Play with lives just for your own sick amusement."

This was his game.

Sukuna thrived on chaos, on exploiting pain.

He knew my guilt, my fear for her, and wielded it like a scalpel, laying bare the raw nerve of my fragile sanity.

"Perhaps. But ain't I right? You needed to end it, but you lack the guts for it. Waited a bit longer, it'd be a total disaster."

I hesitated, then my grip on him slackened. I stepped back.

"You know I'm right," Sukuna continued. "You know how this would have ended. Suspension. Scandal. She'll be doomed forever for getting involved with her professor for favors. You wouldn't destroy her like that, would you? You're not that cruel."

"I'm not so sure." I ran a hand through my hair. It had taken everything in me to push her away.

But I can't deny that an ugly part of me wanted to keep her close. Drag her down with me.

See her drown.

"Damn, you hit hard," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Go beat up some students again, not me."

"Stop giving me reasons to punch you." Exhausted, I slumped into my desk chair, burying my face in my hands. My head pounded, the infuriating itch worsening with each damn moment. "Was this your plan all along?"

"What?" he scoffed.

I lifted a single eyebrow at him.

"You think that low of me? Honestly, Toru, a bit of credit, please. It was your pathetic indecision that made this entertaining. You basically gift-wrapped this mess and handed it to me."

"Besides," he continued, "let's be honest, you were holding her back. Now maybe she'll have a chance to become someone who might surpass you one day. You wouldn't deny her that, would you? No thanks needed."

He was right, and I hated that more than anything.

Sukuna sank into the chair across from me, a picture of smug satisfaction despite the visible bruise. "Damn, that punch still stings."

I opened my desk drawer and wordlessly tossed him the bottle of opioids. His eyes widened in surprise, before he gave the bottle a knowing shake. "Still on the hydromorphone?"

I didn't answer. The sound alone threatened to shatter what fragile control I had left. The itch was unbearable, each nerve ending screaming for relief.

Sukuna observed me, a predator watching its prey struggle. "Withdrawal never suited you," he said, popping a pill. "You always get so—" he paused, savoring the word, "—tense."

"Yeah, real supportive of you."

"Actually, I'm being incredibly supportive. I'm leaving for a little research trip overseas—four months. Ethics committee can't meet without me, so—" He leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Gives you time to get your shit together. Isn't that nice of me?"

"Shut the hell up."

"C'mon, I put in a good word for you too. No suspension for now. You can keep teaching, just no surgeries. Yaga really hates my guts, doesn't he? But hey, at least you're not totally screwed."

"You expect a thank you?"

"Relax, Toru, the show's over," he said. "Trust me, they don't want a scandal, let alone lose their star surgeon. When I get back, a slap on the wrist, maybe a semester's suspension, then you're back to the boring old grind."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Last I checked, you were the one pushing for a scandal."

He rolled his eyes. "Someone had to do it. Knew you'd drag this out forever, playing the tragic hero. Needed a villain to get things moving." He gave a mocking bow. "At your service, my friend."

"Also," he continued, leaning forward in his chair, "the focus is off you now. The committee's sniffing around those implant engineers. Funny, isn't it?"

Sukuna paused, savoring the moment. "Honestly, never thought there was anything wrong with your surgeries. You wouldn't make that kind of mistake. Tech malfunction more likely."

Of course.

The bastard never doubted the damn research. It had all been a game to him — my career, my sanity, her — just pieces on his chessboard.

It should've made me furious, lash out, pound his face in again — but all I felt was a bone-deep exhaustion, a weariness that seeped into my very soul. I was too tired, too hollowed-out to do anything but swallow the bitter truth.

"That supposed to make me feel better?"

"A little," he said, tossing the opioid bottle back. "This, though? That'll do the trick even better."

I caught it, my fingers clenching around the plastic.

He rose, stretching with a theatrical sigh. "Well, time to go. Remember, you owe me big time. You should take one," he gestured towards the pills, "you look like shit."

My grip on the bottle tightened. I looked up at him. "When all of this is done, I never want to see your damn face again."

He laughed. "We both know that's a lie. You and me? We need each other."

"The only thing you need is some damn therapy."

"Ah, Toru," he dismissed me with a smirk, "you'll come crawling back soon enough. We both know how this works."

With that, he was gone. I was left alone in the echoing silence, the pill bottle a burning weight in my hand. The world seemed to sway around me, my eyelids growing heavy.

The will to fight simply wasn't there anymore.

─── ·✧· ───

Cruel.

Cruel how one little pill can undo everything.

Cruel how one little pill can silence everything.

Cruel how one damn pill can soften the world, make it — bearable, almost.

Unfair.

It's truly unfair.

The screaming under my skin, that relentless itch — it's still there, but it had dulled to a faint hum, pushed back by the familiar numbness.

Finally.

Oh, finally some fucking silence.

I let out a shaky breath. It wasn't peace, not really. I knew that all too well. Borrowed time, each second ticking closer to the inevitable crash, the return of that relentless screaming in my head.

But for now, it'll have to be enough.

I collapsed on the couch, smoke curling lazily before my eyes.

I knew I shouldn't mix opioids with cannabis. That's something they teach you within the first year of university. What I used to teach students within the first year of university.

What a hypocrite I am really.

Another drag — harsh, burning down my throat.

The urge to close my eyes, to sink into oblivion, was almost overwhelming. But sleep wouldn't bring respite. Only nightmares. I knew that only too well.

So, I lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

It really came down to me failing again, huh?

What was it now?

Attempt number five?

Six?

I started losing count.

Maybe this was my fate.

A broken record, stuck on the same damn track.

Deep down, under the chemical haze, guilt gnawed at me. It was a dull ache now, no longer the searing pain of earlier, but a constant, insidious reminder.

She were out there, her life forever marked by my choices, while I was — here. Hiding in a haze of pills and smoke.

God, I hoped Suguru was looking after her. Making sure she ate, making sure she was safe — that she didn't hate me too much.

I brought the joint to my lips again, the smoke curling up towards the ceiling. It left an acrid taste in my mouth.

I watched my hand for a second.

Bloodied earlier, the wounds had scabbed over, the blood dried. It was perfectly still now, the trembling smoothed out by the chemicals in my blood.

I clenched it into a fist, then unclenched, watching the movement like it belonged to someone else.

Traitor.

This body was a traitor — betrayed myself, betrayed her, betrayed everything I held dear.

Weak.

Broken.

A pathetic mess.

Was that it?

Living as a slave to these chemicals to patch up my crumbling sanity one day at a time?

Chained to pills, each dawn a ticking clock until the next dose, until I could silence the screaming for a few damn hours?

My eyes locked onto the half-empty vial on the table.

Took too many, didn't I?

I knew that, even through the haze. But a cold certainty twisted in my gut. There'd be more. Always more. Until there was nothing left.

Before I could think, I threw another down my throat. Bad idea, probably, after a few clean days.

Suddenly, the haze warped, twisting into nausea. Bile rose in my throat.

I lurched to my feet, the world tilting precariously with each step. Surfaces rippled, the bathroom light stabbing into my skull.

I barely made it. My stomach heaved. Each retch wracked my body, leaving me gasping, weak.

Too many.

Way too many.

How the hell did I forget? Forget my body's limits? Somehow, I felt like some reckless student again, stumbling through experiments, blind to the consequences.

Stupid. So damn stupid.

Darkness swam at the edges of my vision. Another wave of nausea, and I was back, hunched over the toilet.

I hauled myself up, hands shaking, clinging to the sink. In the mirror, a stranger stared back. Eyes bloodshot, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.

This wasn't me anymore.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the acid burn. Didn't help. Drops of water ran down my face, felt like they were melting the damn skin off.

My knees buckled. I slid down the wall, my head heavy against the tile wall.

The bathroom light, needles in my brain moments ago, seemed impossibly distant now. Each breath was a ragged gasp, each pulse a dull throb in my temples.

I waited for it to pass, the nausea, the haze. But as minutes crawled by, a new, searing pain gnawed at me.

My fingers trembled against my abdomen, pressing into the tender spot. Liver, of course.

Wrecked it, just like the rest of me. I'd known the risks, had ignored the warnings, and now my body was demanding payment.

How pathetic.

Darkness gnawed at the edges of my vision, pushing back against the stubborn spots of light. My head felt heavy, detached from my body. Arms and legs useless.

Each breath a battle I wasn't sure I'd win.

Time warped. Stretching, then snapping, leaving me floating in nausea and pain. Then I heard something — muffled, distant. Footsteps, getting closer.

My eyes struggled to make sense of the shifting shadows.

Then, a voice. Soft, achingly familiar. I couldn't make out the words, but the warmth of it—

I knew that voice — would always recognize it.

Cold water hit my skin. Hands, gentle, but firm, on my face. I strained to focus, to see her, to soak in the sight I needed, yet feared more than anything.

Oh, how desperately I needed to see her. Needed her to be real.

But my eyes betrayed me.

She must be so beautiful. She always was.

Then, a touch on my outstretched leg, a flash of metal — was that a scalpel?

Agony ripped through me, shattering the haze. I jerked back, my scream ragged against the tiles. My head slammed back with sickening force.

Before I knew it, a needle pierced my skin.

The room spun as whatever she'd injected battled the comfortable blur of the pills. Nausea churned in my stomach, the numbness receding with terrifying speed.

Groaning, I shifted on the floor.

My vision sharpened, my senses returning with brutal clarity.

The first thing I noticed was the metallic glint of the discarded syringe beside my leg.

Then the cut, a ragged gash through the fabric of my dress pants where she'd stabbed the needle in — the unnecessarily deep and brutal cut — but in the chaos, I let it slide. Didn't even register the pain as I watched the blood drain from the cut.

I reached for the syringe and read the label.

Adrenaline.

Smart girl.

But as I turned it over, a frown creased my brow. Two fucking milliliters? Was she trying to give me a damn heart attack?

I lifted my head, the question burning on my tongue. But the words died unspoken as my gaze locked on hers.

She stood there, just a few feet away, her breath ragged, her eyes — those pretty eyes.

Terror.

There was raw, unadulterated terror etched in her eyes. But I was right. She looked as beautiful as ever. Even with those terror-stricken eyes she was breathtaking.

She stumbled back, slumping against the wall opposite of me with a choked gasp, pulling her knees up. I didn't move, couldn't move, my gaze locked with hers.

The terror faded slowly, replaced by a weariness that was far worse.

For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of that familiar defiance, the spark I both loved and feared. But even that felt strangely muted now, as if even the energy to fight had been drained out of her.

She simply watched me. In silence, in that devastating silence.

How I hated her silence.

Because her silence was far worse than anything she could have screamed, any insult she could have hurled my way. Her stillness, her silence, was the most terrifying weapon she'd ever wielded against me.

And for the first time in a very long time, I was truly afraid.

Time stretched, then I choked out, "You're angry."

Her answer was blunt, devoid of emotion. "Oh really? What makes you think that?"

I glanced down. Blood still seeped from the gash in my leg. With a trembling hand, I fumbled for a towel and pressed it against the wound. "Your cut is kinda deep. Was that on purpose?"

She didn't say anything.

It probably was on purpose.

My gaze fell on the syringe. "Where'd you get that?"

"What happened to your hand?"

"I asked first."

"Don't try to play games now, Satoru. You're walking on thin fucking ice," she snapped.

"Shattered some glass," I said after a pause ", and punched Sukuna."

"Stole it from the hospital."

"What?"

"You think I'd date an addict and not have adrenaline on hand?"

My lips twitched into a weary smile. Oh my beautiful, brilliant girl, always prepared.

"But you know, two milliliters is a bit much." I moved my leg slightly to check if she had cut any tendons, which would complicate the healing a bit. "Or are you trying to kill me?"

Her gaze pierced me, colder than any scalpel. "Looks like you're doing a fine job of that yourself."

My smile faded.

Silence.

Oh, that cruel silence again.

She didn't say anything. Maybe I should be thankful for that, because if she said anything now, I'd probably crumble completely — if I haven't already.

Ironic, wasn't it?

How much power this woman had over me.

Yet it was me who destroyed her.

She dropped her head, ran a shaking hand through her hair, then looked at me again. "How much did you take?"

Huh?

Why would she ask that?

Didn't she see that it's over?

That I'm too far gone?

It was unbearable.

It was unbearable, how she could still look at me and see someone worth saving. It was unbearable, knowing she believed in me even when I didn't.

Almost pissed me off, how stubbornly she clung to that stupid hope. Because seeing that hope in her eyes — it made me hate myself even more.

I wouldn't change, couldn't. Not for her, not for anyone.

"Doesn't matter. It's over."

"Satoru, please," she choked out, pain raw in her voice, the pain I caused, "cut the crap and tell me. Now."

"It doesn't matter," I repeated, my voice cold. I couldn't bear the flicker of hope, couldn't bear to fail her yet again.

Then, the first tear rolled down her cheek and my heart shattered, the fragments piercing me from within.

I'd never wanted to be the reason those beautiful eyes filled with pain, the reason her sweet lips trembled. Every fiber of my being wanted to pull her close, erase the hurt I'd caused.

I would have given anything, sacrificed anything, if only I could make it stop.

But I couldn't.

Because I was the problem. I was the poison.

She buried her face in her hands. "I'm tired, Satoru."

"I know."

"I'm so fucking tired," she whispered through tears.

"I know, love."

My eyes burned as I watched her fragile body shudder. Each sob of her driving a stake deeper into my already bleeding heart. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

I hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself because — because I was the reason for all of this.

She'd never wanted this, never wanted to fall in love with me to begin with, but I dragged her into it anyway.

Because I was selfish.

Knew how it would end.

And now, I could only watch — only watch in this unbearable silence as the woman I loved wept over the man I hated.

"It's for the best, believe me—"

"No," she cut me off. "You're sacrificing me for this—this reputation of mine you think matters. It doesn't. I don't want any of it without you. I don't want a future where you're not in it."

She looked up then, eyes red and filled with unshed tears. "Because I love you, Satoru."

What?

The words turned my blood to ice.

After everything — the lies, the ways I'd hurt her, the desperate attempts to push her away — there it was, the confession I'd craved and feared in equal measure.

My heart was being ripped apart and stitched back together again in that very moment — vulnerable and yet so unbearably full.

She loved me, she said it.

She loves me.

And I love her.

God, how I loved her. More than I thought possible.

I've never once loved in my entire life.

Not until her.

Not until she changed me completely.

What is that, anyway? Love?

How can I possible describe the type of feeling I feel when I'm with her? How can I ever convey the words when they are not even clear to me?

How cruel it is. How utterly cruel the type of feeling is, that she makes me feel.

Because how could I ever live without it.

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

How to live.

How could I ever go back to what I was before her — was there even something before her?

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

With her.

For her.

Because she is the air that fills my lungs.

The pulse that keeps me alive.

And nothing can ever change that. So how could I ever go back to what I was before?

Oh, how she tortures me, tortures me with feelings I rather not feel, tortures me with her love that I deserve so little.

Nothing.

I deserve nothing and yet she gives me everything.

Why can't I give it back? What chains me, binds this rotten heart? Why does it fail me so cruelly to love her the way she deserves?

Because she does.

She deserves everything.

She is everything.

Yet there is only my own failure in loving her. I'm failing her again and again. I hurt her again and again. I hate myself, hate myself for the pain I cause her.

Still—

How can I let her go, when she's the only good thing in my life?

It is selfish, selfish to say the least, to want to keep her close when all I do is fail her.

Her tears were molten iron searing my insides. But I clench my jaw, refusing to let them break me. If she saw weakness, she might hesitate. Might stay and continue to be broken by me.

Every fiber of my being wanted nothing more than to reach out, to comfort her, to tell her it would all be okay.

More lies for a heart that deserved nothing but the truth. So I swallowed down the love threatening to spill from my lips.

I would give her anything, my life, the last shreds of my sanity — except the one thing she asked for, the only thing she ever ask for.

Because loving her, truly loving her, meant letting her go. Even if it destroys me.

"I spare you," I rasped.

"No." She slowly shook her head. "You're killing me. Can't you see?" There was a cold edge in her voice now. "You're killing me."

"I can't change. Love isn't enough. I can't stop."

"You're the only one who thinks that." Her reply held a flicker of her old, beautiful defiance, a defiance I loved so dearly. "I'd follow you anywhere, Satoru. Even if you can't get clean, then so be it. I don't care. I won't leave you."

The sincerity in her voice was a blow, a beautiful, terrible blow. Complete, unwavering acceptance of who I was, in all my brokenness.

And in that moment, I finally realized.

It wasn't about saving her. It was about saving myself from the terrifying vulnerability her love demanded. From the weakness that threatened to drown me if I let her in.

Perhaps I'm just a coward after all.

My heart was too damn small, too messed up. Of course I had to push her out, deny her the love she offered so freely — because it terrified me.

Her love terrified me.

"I can't do this to you," I choked out, the words scraping my throat raw. "You deserve—" I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. "You deserve better."

"Better?" She leaned forward slightly. "You are my better."

Oh, love, that's not true.

You are my better. I'm your worst.

I wanted to say that, should've said that.

But I remained silent, unable to say anything.

"Say something, Satoru."

I couldn't, simply couldn't. Because mere words were too hollow, too insignificant against the depth of her pain.

"Say something, damn it!"

"It will get easier someday," I chocked out. Each word felt like a stone I was forcing down my own throat. Each word empty — we both knew it.

"Is that what you hope for?"

"I have to."

She closed her mouth. Her silence more devastating than any scream. She didn't explode, as I half-expected. Instead, she straightened, her movements slow, weary.

I watched her, unable to move, unable to look away, as a horrifying realization bloomed across her face. It wasn't anger, wasn't sadness — it was a terrible understanding.

She knew. She always knew.

Perhaps that's what I hated about her the most.

"That's it?" she asked.

"That's it."

She watched me. Not in anger, but with chilling detachment. Her eyes, usually so filled with warmth, were now as distant as those of a stranger.

Still, I burned the image into my soul, knowing it might be the last time.

Then, without another word, she turned. And walked away.

When she finally disappeared from sight, a wave of crushing despair washed over me. It wasn't just the loneliness. It was the terrifying certainty that there was no going back from this.

I had destroyed the best thing in my life — a sacrifice she didn't even ask for.

But then again, my sacrifice is really only an illusion after all, masking a desperate, terrified selfishness.

Because I'm selfish.

I do love her. Gods, how I love her.

But my fear was stronger.

And I was too damn weak to fight it.

─── ·✧· ───

Four weeks.

Was it four weeks?

I can't remember.

Time — it didn't tick or flow anymore.

It was a shapeless thing. Punctuated only by the empty thump of my heart in this wrecked chest.

Those first days — or weeks, who knows? — they melted together in a haze. After she left, I was — raw. One giant exposed nerve.

Each damn breath without the pills felt like scraping sandpaper across it, a reminder of what I'd lost — no, what I'd destroyed.

So I was barely sober.

My body didn't even protest. At first, it was almost — nice? The rush, the way it wiped out not just the pain but any thought at all.

But the crash was always brutal. Mornings, if you could even call it that, I'd wake up shaking, sick to my stomach, and terrified of — what was I even terrified of? Somehow of everything and nothing at all. But I knew the fix for that.

It was a sick, relentless cycle.

The phone rang, vibrated with messages. Suguru mostly. His messages growing more urgent with each unanswered text. Liver issues. Treatment. Something about irreversible damage.

It was all white noise compared to the screaming in my head.

Her name, though, cut through the haze.

There were nights — or was it days? — when a desperate, clawing need to hear her voice, to see her face, would rise up in me. I'd reach for the phone, fingers hovering above her name. Then the fear would crush that impulse.

I knew that reaching out to her would be the final act of cruelty.

So I stumbled on, each day collapsing into the next.

Until the next semester started and I remembered I had an actual job.

─── ·✧· ───

I stood in the corridor outside the auditorium.

My fingers fumbled with the familiar pill bottle. Just enough to numb the edge, get me through the lecture. With a bitter swallow, I tilted the pill into my palm, chasing it down dry.

Four weeks. Four weeks of barely holding it together, four weeks since I almost OD'd, four weeks since she left, and the weight of it all threatened to crush me at any moment.

Yet, muscle memory took over.

I limped slightly as I walked into the auditorium. My leg still hurt after she basically cut my muscle in half.

She definitely did that on purpose. She was too smart not to not know what she was doing.

The usual chatter died down when I walked in. Old routine. Time for the performance. Pretend I'm the professor, pretend like this whole thing isn't ripping me apart, piece by piece. It should have been comforting.

Once, perhaps, it was.

Wordlessly, I grabbed a marker, scrawled my name on the board. Like they didn't already know who I was, right?

Everyone on campus knows, especially after this summer's mess.

With a sigh, I turned towards the class.

And there she was.

My breath hitched, the marker clattering to the floor. My lips parted, but no words came.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Second-year lecture.

How the hell could I forget that?

She was here, after everything, right in front of me. The pain of the past weeks, that suffocating emptiness — it all melted away, replaced by a pounding headache in that one instant.

My eyes clung to her, unable to look away, drinking in the sight of her. That stubborn tilt of her head, the pain in those beautiful eyes — God, how I'd missed her.

Yet with every beat of my yearning heart came a fresh wave of guilt. I longed to reach out, to apologize, to tell her how much I'd missed her.

But I knew it was wrong.

Then, it hit me. Every eye in the room was on her, following my gaze like a spotlight burning into her. Damn it.

Still, she didn't flinch.

Endured it like she has always endured everything.

Clearing my throat, I managed to speak as I adverted my gaze. "So, uh, let's start the lecture."

My voice echoed in the now tense auditorium, words tumbling out in a forced attempt at normalcy. The lecture blurred. My own words were just noise in my head. I pushed through the lecture. Don't even remember what I lectured about.

It was routine, should have been easy, but — not with her there. Never with her.

Every damn minute, my eyes flicked towards her, drawn like a magnet. I couldn't help it. Because all I could see was her. But she avoided my gaze.

Should've expected that.

Shouldn't make me angry, right?

Still did.

Finally, thank god, the bell rang.

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

I remained behind my desk and gathered my notes. Students surged towards the exit, a faceless blur of motion. My traitorous gaze remained locked on her as the auditorium slowly emptied.

She and her friends passed by me. Before I could even think, the words tumbled out, "Wait, not—not you, first-year."

Silence.

Her friend's chatter halted abruptly. I hadn't meant to say it, hadn't thought before the desperate need to speak to her had short-circuited my brain.

Now, it was done.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, met mine. For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Her friends exchanged glances. I could feel Zenin glaring daggers at me, didn't even need to look. She'd always been fiercely protective.

"I'll catch up later," she said then to her friends, a strained smile plastered on her face.

They left, leaving us alone in the vast, suddenly suffocating auditorium.

Silence again.

My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I feared she could hear it.

Finally, she spoke. "You know I'm not a first-year anymore."

I rounded the desk, the wood rough against my fingertips. "Yeah, right. Sorry." Leaning against it, I crossed my arms.

"Didn't you get suspended?"

"They postponed it."

She watched me for a moment, those beautiful eyes drilling into me. Her eyes held a coldness I've never seen before. For a sickening moment, I thought I might throw up.

"How are you?"

"Don't," she snapped. "Don't ask me that. Don't you dare pretend to care after—"

She stopped herself, the silence louder than any accusation. After everything you did. After you pushed me away. After you nearly killed yourself.

She didn't need to voice it.

My hands clenched into fists against the edge of my desk, nails digging into my palms in a futile attempt to ground myself. Needed to maintain this thin illusion of control.

I do care. Dammit, I care more than you'll ever know.

I wanted to scream it, to tear open my chest and show her the bleeding wound she'd left behind. But the words stuck in my throat.

Pointless now, anyway.

Knuckles turned white, nails digging deeper.

She stepped closer. Her hand darted into her bag, then shot out, palm open. Keys glinted in the harsh light — the keys to my apartment.

I watched them for a second. Should've expected that. Shouldn't hurt me. Still did.

"You don't have to return them. I want you to keep them."

"Why? I won't need them anymore, will I? Or are you planning on overdosing again?"

Each word was acid on an open wound.

I deserved this, the anger, the contempt, it was all on me. But why the hell did it make me so fucking angry?

"Have you ever thought about how I felt when I found you?" she snapped, her voice rising. "How terrified I was when you wouldn't respond? When you couldn't even recognize me? When I thought you'd die on me?" She took a shaky breath. "Fuck Satoru, I held your face in my hands while you were barely breathing!"

I tried to speak, but she cut me off. "Don't. You. Dare."

"Four weeks," she went on, her voice sharp, laced with a fury that cut to the bone. "Four weeks of silence. Ever think I might be drowning, haunted by what I saw? Or were you too busy numbing yourself with pills? Hell, I didn't even know if you'd overdosed for good this time!"

Her words hit me cold, but they weren't the storm tearing me apart. It was the image of her, terrified, holding my barely-alive body, that ripped my insides out.

Those eyes — her eyes filled with a terror that was all because of me. The guilt choked me. Seeing my near-death through her haunted eyes is twisted a knife in my gut.

It was the look of someone who'd had a piece of her soul ripped out.

It was the look of someone who loved me.

"But then again, you never cared about me, did you?" she added, the raw hurt bleeding beneath the anger.

My stomach twisted. "Don't you dare say that," I rasped, the words ripping from my throat. "I care so much it damn near killed me. You were the only thing keeping me alive, the only reason I fought at all! Don't you dare say I don't—" I choked, the pain unbearable.

The room seemed to tilt, my anger threatening to consume me.

I took a step towards her, closing the distance in one move. We were so close, I could smell her damn shampoo. "Every damn thing I did, every stupid decision—it was all because I care about you too much."

Her eyes widened. But only for a second. Then, that cold defiance was back, and it cut deep.

"You're really pathetic, you know that?" she spat. "You talk about caring, but in the end you threw everything away. Because you are too terrified to let yourself love me. Because apparently your own damn peace is worth more than me."

Her words were knives, finding their mark with cruel efficiency.

"Shut up," I whispered. "You know nothing."

"Oh really?" She glared at me, "then let me paint the picture for you—the minute things got difficult, the second you had to face actual consequences for your actions, you used it as an excuse to back away. Shut yourself down."

She moved closer still. "Convenient, wasn't it? Pushing me away, destroying us—it absolved you from having to confront anything real."

Her accusations hit uncomfortably close to home.

And I didn't want to hear it from her lips.

Not from hers.

"Shut up," I growled.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up," she snapped back, her voice rising. "You don't get to play the victim here. You did this. You ruined everything."

Fury ignited, not at her, but at myself.

Blindly, I reached out, my fingers gripping her jaw so tight it bordered on violence. I forced her to look at me, my eyes burning into hers. "Shut up, or I swear to god, I'll make you."

Her chin lifted, eyes narrowing. "I dare you."

The words set me on fire. Every rational thought, every vestige of self-preservation was devoured by a sudden, desperate need. My gaze fell to her lips, slightly parted, a vulnerable target I craved to claim.

Without even thinking, my hand went to her waist, fingers digging in as I pulled her impossibly close. My other hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head back. Our eyes locked, some kind of messed-up challenge.

I could feel her rapid breaths on my skin, smell that damn perfume of hers that I'd always loved, but now was driving me to the edge of control. Her heart pounding against mine.

Everything in me screamed to close the distance, claim those lips that had haunted me, haunted me for weeks.

I wanted to claim her, to silence her, to lose myself in her, but my last shred of sanity held me back.

Because pushing her further into my nightmare was the ultimate act of cruelty.

"Uncomfortable, isn't it? Getting confronted with the ugly truth?" she whispered against my lips.

My grip on her tightened. She really didn't know when to stop, or maybe she simply wanted to watch me burn. Perhaps both.

"Don't push me."

"Why? Scared of what you'll find if you let yourself be honest for once?" Her head tilted. Her gaze was fire, and I was already ash. "You run, Satoru. From everything, but most of all, from yourself."

"And that," she leaned closer, almost brushing my lips, "is what makes you the most pathetic person I know."

Oh, she could be so viciously cruel when she wanted to. So disgustingly cruel. It was one of the things I'd fallen hopelessly in love with. Even now, as it tore me apart, I still loved it.

But I also wanted nothing more than to fuck that attitude out of her right then and there.

"You're right. You're always right. Maybe that's what's terrifies me about you so much."

"You're not terrified of me," she whispered. "You're terrified of yourself."

The air between us crackled. Every rational thought in my brain begged me to stop. Still, I couldn't resist. I inched closer, helpless against the force that binds and burns us both.

My hands tightened their hold as I took a sharp inhale. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling.

Our lips hovered, almost touching, two aching souls suspended in that impossible space. So much unspoken words, so much hurt, and the destructive pull between us that had always tethered us together.

Then, the auditorium door creaked open.

Her head snapped towards the sound. But I couldn't look away, wouldn't miss a second of her. Because this, right here, was all I had left.

Had to be Suguru anyway — anyone else would be screaming their heads off by now.

After a pause, she turned back at me. "You know, I'm still waiting."

"For what, love?"

"For it to get easier."

I looked at her, the woman I loved, and guilt clawed at my insides. That hurt, that anger on her face — I deserved it all. Because it was the consequence of the pain I'd caused.

"You said it would get easier," she added.

It was a lie. Nothing about this was easy. Nothing ever would be again. Suddenly, the room felt too small, the air thick and unbreathable.

"I don't know if it ever will."

Perhaps I was only meant to love her in silence.

In distance.

Because at least then I couldn't hurt her anymore.

Suguru cleared his throat. He stepped into the room, breaking the moment.

Reluctantly, I let go of her. She stepped back, eyes holding mine for a second, something flickering there that I didn't dare try to read. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

I watched her go.

Suguru approached me, stopping close by. He didn't say anything.

I leaned against the desk, running a hand through my hair. The adrenaline from that almost-kiss crashed, leaving behind a hollow ache.

The sound of the door slamming behind her echoed in the empty auditorium, way too loud.

Suguru's hand landed on my shoulder.

"You really have a thing for bad timing," I muttered.

"Bad timing," he echoed, "or good timing to stop you from doing something stupid?"

I didn't answer. The memory of her, so close, choked every thought out of my mind.

"You know it was the right thing to do. With everything going on, letting her go was the right decision."

"I know," I said, pushing off the desk and rounding it to gather my things. I couldn't meet his gaze. "I'm trying to remember that."

Suguru then started placing pill bottles on the desk with a serious expression. The first clink of plastic on wood cut through the silence.

"Prednisone for the liver inflammation." Another bottle. "Lactulose for the hepatic encephalopathy." Then another. "Vitamin B and K for the nutritional deficiencies."

"But you know the first step would be to—" he paused for a second then placed another two bottles in from of me. "Methadone, to manage the withdrawal and craving. And Naltrexone, to block the euphoric effects of your opioids."

Hesitantly, another bottle appeared. "Clonidine, in case you feel like you're dying."

"Suguru—" I began, but he cut me off.

"Satoru, you have to get clean. The pills won't do a damn thing if you keep wrecking your liver."

"Yeah, it's a little late for that, don't you think? It's the only thing keeping me sane right now."

He sighed. "You're the absolute worst patient ever."

"Aw, come on, I thought you liked a bit of challenge. You're the best doctor, you'll figure something out." I rummaged through my bag, pulling out a folder.

"Even the best doctor on earth can't help if you don't—"

I shoved the folder across the desk, cutting him off. "What's this?"

"It's a patient. An anyeurism. I'm still not allowed to do surgery, not until this thing with the ethics committee is over."

Suguru opened the folder, flipping through the pages. "You want me to do it? Is there something special about this patient?"

"I want you to take her with you," I said quietly. "She likes aneurysm clippings."

Suguru looked up, that familiar crease between his brows. "She'll figure it out. Sooner or later. Latest when you're in the hospital waiting for a liver transplant, not lecturing anymore."

Silence stretched. My eyes fell on the pill bottles lined up on the desk.

I sighed, then gathered them and crammed them into my bag. "Let's go. I need fresh fair," I said as I brushed past him, putting the withdrawal meds back into his hands.

Without another word, I left the auditorium.

─── ·✧· ───

My eyes snapped open.

I sat upright, a strangled gasp tearing from my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat threatening to burst right out of my chest.

For a disorienting second, the world was a blur. Sweat drenched my skin. My lungs screamed for air.

Damn nightmares.

Another night of that shit.

I clutched at my chest, trying to quell the frantic pounding. Cold sweat made my shirt cling to my skin. The room spun. My pulse thundered in my ears.

I fumbled for the lamp, the sudden brightness stinging my eyes. But it didn't chase away the image seared into my brain. Her face, cruel, beautiful, cruelly beautiful, twisted in absolute terror. My stomach twisted.

My fault.

Always my fault.

I couldn't breathe right.

Sleep was a lost cause now. First decent rest in a week, and my brain decided to torment me again. Exhaustion was its own kind of hell, but it was nothing compared to this. That, more than anything, was the real torture.

I slumped forward, scrubbing a hand over my face.

I'd hurt her.

I'd hurt her, the one person who meant something.

Every day, it felt more like I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. Letting her go, pushing her away, I—

I hated myself.

Hated the way I ruined everything.

Hated the way I ruined every chance at something good.

It was like a damn curse.

Nothing good ever lasted for me. I should've known that by now.

Damn it, I knew it was wrong. But how the hell could it be wrong when it'd felt so damn right? When she was the only thing, the only person, that cut through the crap, made this whole mess seem like it might have some sort of meaning?

How could that possibly be wrong?

Guilt ate at my insides. Had I been a damn coward? Too scared to fight for something that made me feel, really feel?

Perhaps.

Easier to push her away, sabotage the whole damn thing, than risk actually letting her in. Letting anyone in. Losing control. But it didn't matter now, did it?

It was over.

I needed out. Out of my head, out of this apartment, out of my own damn skin.

The silence was unbearable.

I pushed off the bed, muscles screaming in protest. I slipped into running clothes, the routine automatic. As I laced up my shoes, a sharp sting shot through my leg from the still-healing cut on my leg.

That bitch.

The more I thought about it, the more sure I was she'd done it on purpose.

Good thing I was addicted to painkillers, huh?

I drowned a pill — no two, for good measure — before stepping outside into the pre-dawn chill.

Cold autumn air bit at my skin. Each step echoed on the empty street. The pills kicked in, dulling the sharp pain in my leg. Good. Long as the cut didn't split open, I didn't damn care.

I pushed myself, needing the burn in my muscles, the ache in my lungs, to drown out the constant echo of her voice, her name, in my head.

The world blurred. Streetlights, shadows, it all melded together. The only reality was the ache in my body, the cold air forcing its way into my lungs. My mind, for once, was mercifully blank.

No nightmares, no guilt, no memories of her haunted eyes — just the simple focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

I didn't set a goal, didn't choose a destination.

Just moving, pushing, escaping.

Sweat dripped, but I barely registered. With each mile, the crushing weight eased. Not gone, hell, not even close to forgotten, but — manageable.

I ran until the city was a smear of lights, until my legs burned and my lungs screamed.

Finally, gasping for breath, legs threatening to give out, I stumbled to a halt. The neon lights of a Seven Eleven cut through the pre-dawn darkness. My throat was sandpaper. I pushed through the door.

Inside, the harsh lights stung my eyes. I grabbed a water, my body on autopilot as I shuffled toward the register. The bored-looking teenager behind the counter gave me a sidelong look as I fumbled for my wallet.

"Rough night?"

"Something like that." I glanced down at my leg, the still-healing cut a visible red line. Wincing, I shifted my weight, favoring the uninjured side.

I pulled out my card to pay, but then a flash of color caught my eye. Beside the cashier's register, stacked in a gaudy pyramid, was a display of energy drinks. I starred at them for a second, the name oddly familiar.

I knew why the name was so familiar.

I reached for a can and placed it on the counter. "And this."

Outside, I downed the water in a matter of seconds. Then, I cracked open the energy drink. The first sip hit my tongue. Surprisingly, it didn't taste half-bad without a shot of stale coffee to ruin it.

But the taste wasn't the problem, wasn't it?

Memories flooded back. Her, hunched over a massive anatomy textbook in the dim library, those beautiful eyes ringed with exhaustion. Beside her, half-empty, a mug of coffee — spiked with the sickeningly sweet energy drink I currently held.

Just the thought of that awful mixture made my stomach turn.

Still, a smile tugged at my lips.

Dammit, I didn't want to think about her. But to be fair, thinking, not thinking — it was all the same. The dull, constant ache of her absence throbbed beneath it all.

I chugged the rest of the energy drink, crushing the can in my hand.

Ah, fuck it.

Before my sanity could interfere, my legs were in motion.

I knew this was wrong. Knew every step took me closer to more pain. Knew all along this was stupid, reckless — inevitable.

I couldn't stop.

The pull towards her was too damn strong. I needed to see her, to confirm her existence, to know she was real, to fix — what? What the hell could I fix? What the hell did I even think I was doing?

Finally, gasping for breath, I stumbled to a halt outside her apartment building.

A glance at my watch confirmed the hour — well past 3 am. Insane. I hadn't expected her to be awake. Just needed the pathetic reassurance of her presence. But as I looked up, my breath hitched.

In a second-floor window, a flicker of warm light spilled into the darkness. And there, etched against that warmth — her silhouette. Unmistakable.

A heavy exhale escaped my lips.

She was there.

Here.

On this same cursed world with me.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I knew, I had no right to be here. But god, I needed this, needed to see her.

She sat on the windowsill, book in hand. My future wife. Even in the dead of night, she was studying. How I loved her.

My gaze traced the familiar curve of her shoulders, the way the soft lamplight painted her skin with warmth, highlighting the strands of hair escaping her messy bun.

In that stolen moment, I could almost convince myself that things were different, that my actions hadn't irrevocably shattered something precious.

But then, she moved. Rising from her seat, she stretched, drawing the fabric of her shirt upwards. Before my mind could catch up, she was at the window, pushing it open. I froze.

She was staring down — right at me.

Shit.

I held my breath. For what felt like an eternity, we simply stared at each other. A muscle in her jaw twitched. Then her gaze dropped, breaking eye contact.

"You're bleeding."

I glanced down. The edge of my shorts was soaked through, a fresh stain of crimson spreading. Damn it. The cut had reopened.

"Yeah," I said, looking back up at her, "I'm a mess."

I braced myself for whatever was coming. The anger, the disgust, the righteous fury — it would all be justified. I deserved it. But she simply watched me. Her gaze was steady, devoid of emotion.

"You know where the entrance is," she said finally, then leaned back into the soft glow of her room and closed the window shut.

Before my brain could catch up with how wrong this was, I walked toward the apartment building.

─── ·✧· ───

I sat on the edge of her bed, she on a chair in front of me, her hands already on my leg as she pushed the fabric of my shorts up. "How could you not notice that?"

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off, "Wait, forget it."

Yeah. Now she remembered.

With practiced efficiency, she began cleaning the wound. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, considering how pissed she must be.

The silence was heavy, broken only by the rustle of bandages and my occasional sharp intake of breath when the antiseptic hit a raw spot.

My eyes wandered. Her space, even small and half-finished, felt warm, lived in. Smelled like her. Books spilling everywhere, papers scattered on a desk, a yoga mat forgotten in the corner — the organized chaos was so perfectly her.

Then my gaze landed on the half-unpacked boxes stacked against the wall. She really still didn't fully move in. Occupied with my mess, huh?

Guilt flooded me. I didn't deserve this, didn't deserve her gentle hands on me, not after everything.

Yet, a selfish part of me wanted nothing more than to stay exactly like this, wanted nothing more than to keep her hands on me.

With a sigh, I sank back against her pillows. Exhaustion seeped into my bones. Pain returned as the effects of the pills wore off.

Her fingers brushed the reopened cut. I winced, throwing an arm over my eyes. The relentless pounding in my head threatened to split me open, spilling all the ugly thoughts onto her pristine sheets.

"You've had nightmares again, haven't you?"

Huh?

I lifted my head a fraction, struggling to meet her eyes. She glanced up briefly, her eyes guarded, then focused back on my leg.

"Yeah, something like that." My head thumped back onto the pillow. "Hard to sleep when your head won't shut up."

"What dose?"

"You really don't want to know."

"I asked because I do," she countered. The sharp tug as she tightened the bandage around my leg was enough to make me speak.

"Ten milligrams," I admitted, wincing. "The usual."

She scoffed, then another, even sharper, tug had me gritting my teeth. "Ngh—fuck," I moaned.

I really needed a pill now.

She stood, gathering the first-aid supplies. "Heals slowly, doesn't it?"

I knew it.

I popped myself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Don't give me that look. You know damn well you deserved it."

I let out a dry laugh. "You really are a bitch sometimes." I dropped back onto the bed, my hand reaching for my throbbing head.

I needed two pills now.

"You've got some damn nerve. You show up here in the middle of the night, injured, high—"

"I'm not high—"

"Save it," she spat. "You know what your fucking problem is? You can't stand being alone. Alone with your thoughts, with yourself. So you run. You run to pills, to whatever distraction you can find, anything to fill the void."

Yeah, how the hell am I supposed to want to be alone after feeling what it's like to be with you, stupid.

"You're too damn scared to face your fears," she continued, her voice laced with a bitter edge, "and when someone threatens your artificial peace, someone who might actually force you to look in the damn mirror, you panic. You sabotage it, push them away before it all gets too real, too close."

She stepped closer. "Because it's easier, isn't it? Safer to stick with the misery you know than risk having to face that void."

Every word stung, but I couldn't deny it, couldn't lie anymore.

"You're right. And I'm sorry—"

"Don't." She rose a hand at me. "Don't pretend you care, Satoru. You've made it clear how little I matter."

How little you matter?

Oh, love, you couldn't be more wrong.

A harsh laugh escaped me.

"You find this funny?"

"No, love," I said, pushing myself up. My leg throbbed in protest, but I ignored it. Everything narrowed down to her. I moved closer, a strange recklessness fueling me. "Quite the opposite."

Something flickered in her eyes — surprise? wariness? — but the anger remained.

"Keep going," I insisted, moving closer. "Let it out. Yell at me, tell me how pathetic I am. Make me feel something, anything other than this damn emptiness."

She hesitated. Her eyes searched mine, and for a breathless moment, I hoped that her fury, her anger, would burn away the numbness, making me feel something, anything.

Because even her anger was better than her indifference.

I couldn't stand being indifferent to her.

Might as well make her hate me.

"You want me to yell at you?" Her voice rose, the first hint of the storm I craved. "Fine! You wanna be a pathetic mess? Go ahead! Piss away your career, your life, whatever the hell you care about, I don't give a damn anymore!"

Each word hit me, but there was a desperate relief in it. Finally, she wasn't looking at me with that chilling indifference, that cold pity that twisted a knife in my gut.

Her rage, it was fire — scorching and brutal, but alive. And I loved it.

Because it was prove she still cared, even if it was just to hate me with every fiber of her being. It was better than the void, that terrible chasm that had opened up between us after I'd pushed her away.

I closed the distance, enjoying the anger in her eyes. She flinched, but didn't back down.

"More." I grabbed her waist, lifting her with ease, and hauled her towards the bed.

"You're weak!" she spat, pushing against my chest, her voice rising with each word.

Yeah, so damn weak for you, love.

"You're selfish! So consumed by your own self-pity you can't see how you hurt everyone around you!"

Her words should have hurt. They probably would have, under different circumstances. But right now, I couldn't care less.

"Keep going," I rasped, my pulse pounding in my ears. I forced her onto the bed and hovered over her, my body trapping her between the mattress and my own. "C'mon, love, let it all out."

"You don't deserve me," she continued. "You don't deserve anyone who gives a damn, because you only know how to destroy things."

Each word was a knife. Yet, with each insult, the suffocating hollowness inside me eased a fraction. I wanted her anger, the full force of it, wanted the burn only she could inflict on me.

"More."

Her breath hitched, eyes narrowing. "You keep breaking my heart over and over, then come crawling back when it suits you, like it doesn't matter!"

"You're right." I leaned in, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. The thin fabric of her shirt did little to hide her shivers. "C'mon, love, give it to me. I know you can do better."

In one swift move, I ripped my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I leaned down again, my breath ghosting over her lips. "Hate me." My hands went for the flimsy waistband of her shorts. "Tell me how much you despise me."

Her breaths came fast, quick gasps against my skin. I could see it all over her face — the rage, the fear, and maybe — yeah, maybe that darker edge, the same desperation burning in me.

"I fucking hate you, Satoru. Hate that you made me care, made me fall for you, then crushed it."

"Don't stop," I said, my voice a hoarse rasp. "Say it again." Before she could react, her shorts were down, exposing her to the night air. My own pants followed hasty, desperate. "Say you hate me."

"I fucking hate that you treat me like I'm just another damn plaything to fill whatever void your messed-up mom or whatever left you with!"

Okay, now it gets personal.

"I fucking hate that you act like you can control me," she hissed, but her body betrayed her, shivered running down her skin as my hands gazed her collarbone. "Hate that you make my choices for me, decide what's good for me, like you got to have control over something when you obviously can't control yourself!"

Damn, Freud himself is on to something tonight, huh? She really doesn't know when to stop.

"You're a fucking hypocrite, you know that?" I leaned closer, my mouth close to her ear. "You hate who I am, but you crave this, don't you? Giving up control, being at my mercy. Admit it."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She lifted a hand, as if to slap me, but I was faster. I caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, pressing them hard into the mattress.

"You know it's true," I pressed, relishing the way she struggled against my hold. "It's hard always being the composed one, isn't it? The responsible one. It's draining. Maybe that's why you're drawn to me. You love the thrill as much as I do, don't you?"

She stared at me, silent, her lips a tight line.

"Prove me wrong, sweetheart. Call me a liar, and I'll show you just how wrong you are," I leaned in closer, my voice a harsh whisper against her lips. "We're the same, you and me. We feed off each other. Even if you hate to admit it, I fill that emptiness inside you same as you do for me."

"You arrogant piece of shit!" she spat, twisting and bucking against my grip. "You think you know everything, control everything!"

"Don't I?" My grip tightened, feeling her pulse throb against my fingers. "Seems I've got you pinned pretty damn well, wouldn't you say?"

"You know it's true. You love this. Makes you feel something your books, your fancy grades never could."

"Screw you, Satoru," she hissed, venom in her voice. "We're nothing alike."

"You really are a fool, for wanting to fix something so broken it'll cut you to shreds the moment you get close and then you cry afterwards—"

Her spit hit my face. I closed my eyes for a second, then a smile twisted across my lips.

My future wife just spit in my face — what a good anecdote on our wedding day.

"That's my girl," I rasped, shoving her legs wider. "Tell me how much you hate me. Scream it."

"I fucking hate you Satoru, I hate you—"

Her words died on her tongue as I thrust forward, filling her completely. I closed my eyes, letting my head hang heavy for a second.

My god, the things this woman's body could do to me. I could feel her body trembling beneath me, her heart racing as she arched her back.

How treacherous a body can be, huh?

"Hate you, Satoru," she managed to say before she closed her eyes, biting down her lip as I thrust deeper still. Her thighs spread further apart, inviting me closer, urging me onward.

She's so damn beautiful.

I grinned, my hands still holding her wrists in place over her head. "I know you do, love. But you know what?" My lips were only a breath away from hers. "I hate you, too. I hate how you make me feel, how you expose every broken piece of me, how I crave you like I crave another fix."

Hell, I might just be addicted to this woman.

I pulled out fully, before thrusting back into her. Her head fell back, pressing into the mattress as a strangled moan escaping her lips.

She felt incredible.

Pulling back slowly, I watched her body react to the absence, her eyes flickering open to meet mine. Those pupils dilated with need, mirroring my own hunger for her.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not our fight. Not our problems. Not our insults that had left our lips moments before. Just us — two halves coming together in a perfect whole.

I pushed back into her, deeper, harder.

With each thrust, I felt myself sinking deeper into her, losing myself in her. Fuck, if there was anything better than this — well, I hadn't found it yet.

This woman owned me — plain and simple.

It was madness, this pull towards her.

Insane, perhaps.

But it was also undeniably real. So real that even though dawn threatened to break soon, stealing away whatever remnants of darkness remained, I couldn't help but chase after that high only she could provide.

Even knowing full well that when morning arrived, reality would crash down upon us, forcing us back onto opposite sides of the divide.

"Look what you've done to me, love. You're making a fool of me." I whispered against her lips without touching them.

Weren't together anymore after all.

Kissing would be too much.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath me. Her nails dug into my skin where my hands gripped her wrists. With each deep thrust, I watched her face contort with pleasure and pain, her features illuminated by fleeting streaks of moonlight seeping through the curtains.

I loved that look on her face.

I wondered if I could make that look even more pathetic.

I pulled out, dragging the tip of my length across her clit before pushing back in. She squirmed underneath me, arching her back. But I denied her, keeping my unhurried pace. I wanted to draw out this sweet torture for as long as possible.

Hours passed — or perhaps mere minutes. I couldn't tell anymore. All that mattered was this woman writhing beneath me.

Groaning in frustration, she attempted to break free from my grip. "Dammit, Satoru. If you won't finish what you started, then get off me!"

I smirked. "Why so eager, love. Can't handle the wait?" I leaned in to kiss down the side of her neck. She shivered beneath me, her breath hitching as my teeth grazed her skin.

With my free hand I reached down, running my fingers down her quivering stomach, relishing in the shivers that coursed through her body.

She glared up at me, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Stop calling me 'love'. I don't belong to you, not anymore—"

She gasped into my mouth when I found her clit. Slowly, deliberately, I began to circle it with my thumb, feeling her surrender to me. I plunged deeper, thrusting into her mercilessly.

Let her hate me all she wants. She can't deny the chemistry between us — a spark that refuses to fade, no matter how hard either of us tries.

She must have hated this — hated how she surrendered to me, even with all that anger. Made me wondered if I could rail her up even more.

"You think you're so much better than me?" I rasped. "So strong, so selfless, always putting others first? It's a lie, and you know it. You're just bored."

"You fucker!" Before I knew what was happening, she broke free of my grasp and had flipped us over so that she was now straddling my hips.

Without warning, she reached forward, gripping my throat with surprising strength as she leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around our faces. I couldn't help but smile.

"Don't project your bullshit on me," she seethed, her face inches from mine.

Her words sent a chill down my spine, stirring up a fresh wave of desire within me. Damn, this woman was infuriating — and captivating in the worst way possible.

We glared at each other like enemies preparing for battle.

"Aren't you a little tired? Pulling up that act all the time?" I choked out, feeling her fingers dig in further. "Deep down, you're just as bored as me, you're just too righteous to admit it."

"Shut up," she hissed, pressing harder, choking the words out of me.

This was madness. Destructive madness. But for this one desperate moment, I didn't care. It was exhilarating, addictive. Because love, our twisted, broken love, wasn't supposed to be pretty.

It was messy, chaotic, and borderline abusive. But sometimes all you need is a firm grip around the throat to remind you that you're alive.

"Harder, love," I gasped, a laugh bubbling up in my constricted throat. "Come on, make me feel your rage."

Slowly, deliberately, she began grinding her hips against mine, setting a maddening pace that left me reeling. Fuck, I think I love it even more when she hates me.

"Ahh, shit," I gasped, clutching at her thighs as she rode me mercilessly. "That's it."

Eyes squeezed shut, my head rolled back. Chills prickled my skin, possibly due to the cool breeze drifting in from the window. Or perhaps it was merely her.

She rode me with increased speed, and I could barely contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body. Every fiber of my being screamed for release.

My knuckles on her thighs turned white from the force. "Oh, shit, you're going to kill me," I moaned between choked sounds that escaped my lips.

My lips twisted into a smile again. "Admit it. You love the chaos as much as I do. The thrill, the way it makes you feel alive."

"You're wrong," she said, increasing her pace making my cock twitch inside her. "We're nothing alike."

"Keep telling yourself that," I replied, struggling to catch my breath, as she made me lose my mind. "But I know the truth—we're two sides of the same coin."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"Why else would you be here, like this, with me?" I countered. "Face it, we're addicted to each other—the highs, the lows, the constant push and pull. It's exhilarating, isn't it?"

"You're the only addict here."

"Liar," I rasped.

Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She was close. Each contraction of her pushing me further towards a peak that I knew would soon shatter me.

But I wasn't ready yet. Not quite.

I shifted our positions, sitting upright before spinning us around so she was now beneath me on the mattress. I positioned myself behind her, forcing her down onto the mattress.

I slowly slid my hand along her spine as I pushed her further down, feeling her tremble beneath my touch, the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips.

It was intoxicating to watch her submit to me.

"Fuck, you'll be the death of me."

Leaning down, I pressed my lips against the small of her back, feeling her shiver once more. My hand continued its descent, stopping just short of where she needed me.

"Satoru," my name fell from her lips.

Oh, how I loved it when she breathed my name like that. I couldn't resist her — could never resist her. I was at her mercy. Even now.

She arched her back, silently pleading for me to continue. I slid my hand between her legs. "God, you're so fucking wet," I murmured, slipped a finger inside her, then another. She was so tight, so warm.

I couldn't wait to be inside her again.

She gasped, pushing back against me. "Don't stop."

Curving my fingers, I searched for that spot that I knew would drive her mad. When I found it, she cried out, her hips bucking against my hand. Her hands scrabbled at the sheets, grasping for purchase as I started to move inside her.

"Yes, fuck," she moaned, spreading her legs wider. "Right there."

Oh, love. I know you like that.

I smiled, relishing the fact that I knew her body better than herself. I knew every inch of her, every freckle, every scar, every sensitive spot that made her squirm.

"More," she begged.

I happily obliged, adding a third finger and thrusting deeper. She was soaking wet, her juices coating my fingers as I fucked her with my hand. Her moans grew louder, more urgent. She was close, so close.

I increased the pace of my fingers, pumping them in and out of her as I used my thumb to apply pressure to her clit.

However, as her moans reached a fever pitch, I withdrew my fingers, denying her release.

She gasped, glanced over her shoulder at me, her mouth open, but said nothing — probably out of breath.

I brought my fingers to my mouth, savoring the taste of her. It was so uniquely her. I couldn't get enough.

Leaning in, I pressed my body against hers from behind, my hard length probed at her entrance.

I leaned down over her, my hand snaking into her hair. I grabbed it tightly, forcing her head up to meet mine. "I love you, first-year," I murmured against her ear.

She trembled, but her defiance remained strong. "I hate you."

I sighed — always so fierce, makes me wonder what it takes to fuck that stubborn attitude out of her.

"It's alright, I love you enough for both of us."

With that, I pushed her head down into the mattress. Her cry muffled by the sheets beneath her as I thrust into her once more, bottoming out inside her with a groan.

I began to move in and out of her. Faster now, harder until the headboard slammed against the wall. Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She clawed at the sheets beneath her, her moans muffled by the fabric.

As her cries grew louder, I quickly pushed her face further into the mattress. "Quiet, first year," I murmured as I angled myself to rub against her G-spot, making it harder for her to keep quiet. "Wouldn't want to disturb anyone in the middle of the night, would we?"

Neither of us spoke a word — not that she could but — perhaps because there was nothing left to say. Instead, we communicated solely through our actions, saying everything that needed to be said without opening our mouths.

I increased both the pace and pressure. Nearly causing her to fall forward hadn't I held her in place with one hand on her waist and one sill in her hair. Her breath hitched, her entire body tensed as she approached her breaking point.

Oh, how I loved feeling her tighten around me.

Bringing her closer to the edge was a thrill like no other. Watching her lose control, hearing her cries and moans, feeling her body tremble beneath me — it was intoxicating.

I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, my balls tightening as I approached my own release.

Her cries grew louder, more urgent, until finally, she shattered around me, her orgasm triggering my own.

With a final thrust, I emptied myself inside her, filling her completely. Her contractions milked every last drop from me, her body still quivering around me.

I stayed inside her, savoring the feeling. It might be the last time.

I was panting, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to catch my breath. My cock was still twitching inside her. Reluctantly, I pulled out with a low moan.

I stayed behind her for a moment longer, admiring the curve of her waist, the sheen of sweat on her skin in the sliver of moonlight.

Don't know when or if I'll ever see that again.

Time seemed to stand still, suspended indefinitely as we tried to find our breath again.

Then she turned her head. "You're a fucking idiot," she finally said.

"Tell me something I don't know."

She shifted to face me, her expression serious. "Promise me something."

"Anything you want, love."

"Promise me, you won't kill yourself with your pills."

I swallowed hard. That's not what'll get me, I thought, as I felt a sharp pain lancing through my right side.

I moved closer, cupping her face with my hands that trembled slightly. For an insane moment, I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn't — couldn't ever again. "I promise," I rasped.

The words heavy with a lie we both knew.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: wooooaaa, another insane!gojo chapter lol. this chapter really killed me, was crying, screaming, throwing up while writing.

i'm equally scared and excited to hear what you think about todays chapter, ngl. originally i didn't plan a smut scene in this chapter, but you know, somewhere down that line gojo just happened and here we are.

also like, i think now both their's darkest secrets are now out — in the worst way possible. also because i keep getting messages regarding how much chapters are left of the story, idk i write form chapter to chapter. we're down somewhere the 60—70 % line with the story i guess, but we'll see. still more to uncover of gojo's past and all that.

also sorry for the people asking of for more fluff and happy moments, ehhh, there will be some in the future?? also i'm still sticking to the plan of a happy ending, so don't worry!! gojo fucked up big time and the next chapters will center about him trying to fight his fears and get shit together — let's see if he can do that. curious myself.

so thank you so so much for sicking by with the story. sending kisses to all of you lovely people seeing me messages, leaving likes, comments and reblog stuff. it really makes my heart happy everything i see a notification. love you all sm!! ♡

okay my last note, just so you know, i'm going on vocation soon, so the next chapter will be a bit delayed again, sorraaaayyy!! wishing you a great day or night and an awesome weekend ahead! ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie @billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline @boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng @mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee @gojolvrr34 @nanasukii28 @ariiiii0938 @kelppsstuff @tojisdollx @drakenswifeyy @bakarinnie @vina21 @phoenix-eclipses @nanamis-baker @neptnszn (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

#symptoms and causes #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen #saturo gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo angst #gojo angst #jjk smut #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk fanfic

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truly-sincerely · 22 days

Text

Even More Comprehensive BG3 Timeline

(Now with citations!) Years in (paren) are confirmed, all other lines are approximations. For my own sanity this timeline is based on available in-game information and not the Forgotten Realms at large.

1450s

Enver Flymm born

Gale Dekarios born (1457)

Enver Flymm sold to Raphael by his parents, renamed Gortash

Gortash learns about Crown of Karsus while a prisoner of Raphael

1460s

Karlach Cliffgate born

Gortash escapes the House of Hope

Gale Dekarios summons Tara the Tressym (1467)

Wyll Ravengard born (1468)

1470s

Lae’zel of K’liir born (1470)

Gortash in his Heapside Reavers period

Gortash rebrands as a black market arms dealer

Orin the Red born to Helena and Sarevok Anchev

Durge begins their serial killing spree in Baldur’s Gate (1477)

The Emperor dominates Duke Belynne Stelmane (1479)

1480s

Elminster resurrects Mystra (1480)

Gortash trades Karlach to Zariel for infernal machines & iron (1482)

Baldur’s Gate’s Beloved Ranger statue goes missing (1482)

Duke Abdel Adrian murdered during Returning Day speech (1482) - Bhaal resurrected - Ulder Ravengard replaces Adrian as Grand Duke

Orin kills her mother Helena in self-defense

Gortash recruits Franc Peartree to distribute infernal iron weapons

Gortash establishes a cult of Bane in Baldur’s Gate

Gortash approaches Durge about an alliance

Gortash moves against the Zhentarim & Knights of the Shield

Wyll Ravengard pact with Mizora, leaves Baldur’s Gate (1485)

Dead Three made aware of the Crown of Karsus (most likely informed by Gortash)* - Gortash becomes Bane’s Chosen - Durge becomes Bhaal’s chosen - Gortash & Durge are instructed to recruit Ketheric

Gortash tells Durge about Crown of Karsus (via correspondence)

Hall of Wonders test mission* - Durge gets Bhaalist memorabilia - Gortash gets a bunch of Gondian designs - Durge & Gortash get companionship

1490s

The Chosen visit Ketheric at Moonrise, learn about Illithid colony

Gortash & Durge visit the House of Hope (for intel on Mephistar?)

Gortash & Durge raid Mephistar - They get the Crown of Karsus - They get the book on the accelerated grand design

Gortash captures the Emperor

Gortash & Durge return to Moonrise - Their identities are kept secret from Ketheric’s people - Durge impresses the Moonrise Gnolls, but not Steelclaw - Ketheric yells at Durge in the throne room for an unknown reason

Durge proposes their plan to the Elder Brain who accepts

Raid on the illithid colony (1491) - Durge puts the Crown on the Elder Brain - Orin gets Durge alone during the raid & stabs them in the head - Orin tadpoles Durge, making them the first True Soul - Orin leave Durge in a pod - Orin declares herself the Chosen of Bhaal

1492

Durge breaks out of the pod & is found by Kressa Bonedaughter

Minsc captured by Absolutists at a recruitment rally in the Undercity

Gortash gets weird and intense with unethical experiments - Some futzing to get the tadpoles to consistently remain in stasis - This is when the name ‘True Souls’ gets coined - Extremely questionable fun with brains - Getting the Absolute’s voice sorted out - Tadpoling his parents - Poorly conceived experiments on children & their parents

Gortash has Iron Throne converted to hold hostages

Gortash presents prototype Steel Watcher to the city council

Jaheira tracks cult to shadow-cursed land, meets Isobel

Minthara Baenre is recruited by Orin and Ketheric

The Descent, Elturel falls into Avernus happens

Guild Bursar Uktar launders money for Gortash’s Campaign funds

Isobel is resurrected by the Dead Three

The Elder Brain sends the Chosen dreams about the Astral Prism

Gortash researches the Prism, finds out that Vlaakith has it

Gortash tasks Ketheric with sending a team to get the Astral Prism - They send a nautiloid piloted by the Emperor and other illithid - The Elder Brain lets the Emperor slip its leash - Magthew Budj arranges for Durge to be on the nautiloid as well

Gortash deploys Steel Watch in Lower/Outer City

At this point Elturel is no longer in Avernus

First Druid Halsin captured by goblins

Nautiloid picks up Shadowheart & the Prism from Astral Plane

Nautiloid picks up Lae’zel

Nautiloid goes to Baldur’s Gate, picks up Gale & Astarion

Nautiloid goes to Avernus, picks up Karlach & Wyll

Nautiloid crashes, (20 Eleasis, 1492)

Some helpful links:

A page from Sarevok’s book: Sarevok - (Murder tribunal)

Accelerated Grand Design: Gortash -

An Offer: Gortash - (Peartree basement)

Aquatic Labor: Gortash - (Flymm’s Cargo Basement)

Baldur’s Gate Temple of Bhaal: Yanthus - (Gortash’s Office)

Balthazar’s Notes: Balthazar - (Necrotic laboratory)

Clasped Book: Balthazar - (Balthazar’s chambers)

Devil’s Fee Observer’s Report**: Himberloo - (Nine-Fingers’ office)

Elder Brain Domination: Ketheric/Yanthus - (Ketheric’s Room)

Enhanced Weapons - Sales Ledger: Peartree - (Peartree basement)

Experiment on Cruor: Orin - (Temple of Bhaal)

How To Build a Watcher: deceased Gondian - (Steel Watch foundry)

Journal of Enver Gortash: Gortash - (Gortash’s Office)

Magical Histories: Volume 2: The Spellplague: unknown - (Sorcerous Sundries)

Memoir Notes with Recent Addenda: Gortash - (Gortash’s office)

Missive from Gortash: Gortash - (Ketheric’s room)

Missive from Ketheric: Ketheric - (Moonrise, 2nd floor)

Mistress of Souls’ Research Log: Kressa - (Mind flayer barracks)

My Gratitude: Gortash - To Peartree (Peartree basement)

Next Steps: Gortash - (Gortash’s office)

Prayer for Forgiveness: Durge - (Necrotic laboratory)

Scrapbook of Letters: Gortash/Durge - (Flymm’s Cobblers)

Special Operations - Infernal Arms: Uktar -

Studies of the Elder Brains: Gortash/Yanthus - (Gortash’s Office)

Suspended Ceremorphosis: Gortash/Yanthus - (Tadpoling center)

Test Mission with Gortash: Durge - (Temple of Bhaal)

The Astral Prism Heist: Gortash - (Gortash’s office)

The Dukes of Baldur’s Gate: unknown - (Baldur’s Mouth/Peartree’s house)

The Grand Design: Gortash/Yanthus - (Mind flayer colony)

The True Life of ‘Lord’ Gortash: a skeleton - (Wyrm’s Rock Prison)

The Ultimate State: Gortash - (Gortash’s office/Flymm’s Cobblers)

*an in-game contradiction between Gortash and Durge. See: ‘Test Mission with Gortash’ and ‘Memoir Notes with Recent Addenda’. I’ve placed it after, but there’s also a legitimate argument to be made that Gortash and Durge met and became allies much earlier, possibly around the same time as Gortash’s betrayal of Karlach

**no link cuz the bg3.wiki doesn’t have it??

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lowkeyerror · 2 months

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The Family Business Ch.3

WandNat x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter Notes: Mentions of death, violence, underaged drinking, slight mentions of SA, lisichka=little fox

Summary: Natasha has heard stories of you from Wanda. It has her doubting your current day skill level. With Dragos and Wanda in a meeting, you get the chance to tell her a bit about the person you've become.

An: Finally something between Y/n and Natasha (I say finally as if this isn't chapter 3 lol) Anyway enjoy this chapter and see you back next week.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

You could feel Natasha’s eyes on you as you worked. It was tedious work, but you typed away with a smile on your face regardless. You thought that maybe she’d pick up her phone or something, but she seemed to just watch you.

“You want to ask me something or you just going to keep staring?” You kept your eyes on the computer screen as you addressed her.

“You’re different than Wanda said you’d be,” was all that she said.

You finally looked at the red head, “Well like I said, it’s been a while since she has seen me. A lot has changed in the years she’s been gone.”

“Like what?”

You paused your work to give Natasha your full attention. You sat back fully in your chair pondering back to the last time you saw Wanda. “Well, she left before I graduated. Back then I thought I was going to take my degrees, find an honest job, and live a normal life. I was fragile, even after the self-defense training. I hadn’t held a gun, I hadn’t hacked into anything, I was just a little girl.”

“And now?”

You gesture around you, “Now, I have this nice office. I crunch numbers for the most high-profile company in town, that just happens to be a front for a criminal organization. I have 2 degrees, I can defend my family and myself, I’ve shot a gun more times than I can count, and I could hack into anything that you could imagine.”

“You’ve got a ledger?” The line about the gun seemed to stick out to Natasha.

You shrug your shoulders, “I’ve carried my weight.”

“How many?”

The question startles you a bit. It was so candid as if she was asking about the weather. You could see them, the people you had killed. It wasn’t a large number, not even in the double digits, but still.

“7.” You don't know what compelled you to keep speaking,” I remember all of them. What is it they say about the first one? You will never forget it. I was 20, it was before I joined the organization. Pietro had dragged me to some party.”

“I take it you weren’t a party animal back then?”

You chuckle and shake your head, “Not even a little so I did what everyone does to get comfortable at a party. I took a few shots, it was stupid. As a light weight and someone not of legal drinking age, I should've been more careful. The shots had loosened me up, so I was enjoying the party for awhile. I lost Pietro at some point, but I was too drunk to notice.”

You see Natasha frown a bit, but you continue, “The host of party finds me on the dance floor. We dance for a while; we don't say much, just hi. Someone spilled a drink on me while we were dancing. He offered to get me a new shirt. Like the innocent little idiot I was, I followed him up to his room.”

You paused, almost feeling like you were back in that moment. You could feel everything again, your skin was hot and sweaty, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, you could feel him on you.

Natasha could sense she lost you to the memory. She got up from the couch in your office to make her way towards you. She took a seat on the edge of your desk and pulled your hands into hers. “What happened in his room?”

“He tried to take advantage of me. He tore my shirt off just so his gross hands could grope my skin. He pulled me against him fiddled with his belt before trying mine. His breath was hot on my neck as he peppered kisses on my collarbone. When his hand slipped into my pants, is when it really clicked in my head. I had told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. You know the kind of guys that say, ‘you want this’ or ‘you teased me all night’ or ‘You’re the one half naked in my room’. He was one of those, no wasn’t going to cut it.”

Natasha squeezes your hand as you recount the harsh memory. It looks like you could cry right there in the office. Then all of a sudden, the tears pooling in your eyes are gone. A blank expression takes over your face.

“For a minute, I pretend I’m into what this creep is doing to me. Only enough for him to loosen his grip on me. At this point my back was against his front. I reach behind his head, like my arms trying to loop to bring him closer. Except one of my hand rests on top of his head and the other one is on the opposite side of his jaw. I snapped his neck. His body hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.”

“Y/n- “

“I threw up when I saw him. After I was done, I called Pietro, he found me upstairs with the body. He felt so guilty for leaving me, but I could tell he was surprised too. So surprised that fragile little Y/n had snapped someone’s neck.”

Natasha’s eyes bored into yours, “That asshole deserved that. He deserved worse.”

“He didn’t rest even in death. Dragos made sure of it. He made that family’s life a living hell. It was a message to the entire city that I was under their protection. If anyone so much as laid a finger on me there would be dire consequences.”

A silence filled the room. Natasha didn't remove her hand from yours and you didn't ask her too. You glanced back at your computer, knowing you had to finish your work.

“Wanda never said you were fragile, just delicate,” Natasha’s fingers drew patterns on your hand.

You shake your head, “Wanda has always had a way with turning something negative into a positive. I never saw the difference between the two words, but she’d always say- “

“Fragile things break quickly into millions of pieces under the slightest pressure,” Natasha starts as if she had been there when Wanda said it to you.

“If you were fragile, you wouldn’t be here with us. You’re delicate, beautiful, intricate, and deserve to be handled with care,” you finish with a fond smile on your lips.

“For what it’s worth, I think she was right,” Natasha returns to her space on the couch to allow you to keep working.

She finally pulls out her phone seeming to have relaxed a bit because of your vulnerability. You want to refocus on work, but there are some questions that are nagging you about the woman in your office.

“How did you two meets? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Natasha ponders a minute for a suitable answer, and you take note of it, “The short version is that we met at work.”

You raise an eyebrow, “And what did you do for work?”

“Guess.”

You let your eyes look over the woman. You took in her relaxed posture, the muscles hiding under her shirt, the way she allowed you to be vulnerable with her, the mischievous glint in her eye. She was a multifaceted woman, you could tell.

“Spy, a Russian spy to be exact.”

Natasha seems slightly surprised, “How’d you guess Russian?”

“Romanoff sounds suspiciously close to Romanov, common last name in old Russia.”

“You’re a smart lisichka aren’t you?”

A blush takes over your features, “Little fox is new, but you’re stalling, Natasha.”

She crosses her arms across her chest, “Well I was formerly spy, turned into assassin for hire. I was anonymously hired to kill Wanda.”

“Too charming to kill?”

Natasha sighs, “I tried, but she was just too good. We started this rivalry, playful banter, suggestive tones, I spent a lot of time trapped under her thighs. It got to the point where I didn’t want to kill her, I had terminated the contract, but I just kept coming around to see her. She told me that my skills were being wasted on petty assassinations, when I could be working for her. I said the only way I’d consider was if she went out with me. The rest is history.”

“Leave it to Wanda to seduce an assassin.”

Natasha laughs, “Hey, she only seduced me because I let her.”

“Whatever you say super spy. I’ve got to finish this work before we have to leave for dinner.”

“Flora might have your head if you show up late,” Natasha comments.

You press the small button on your desk, “Thanks for reminding me. Kate, do you think you could get me some hydrangeas for Mrs.Maximoff.”

“Of course, Y/nn, anything for you,” she responds cheerfully.

You roll your eyes, “Thanks Katie.”

With that you're back to working. Though Natasha pulls out her phone, you still feel her eyes on you at time. It sends shivers up your spine, yet you don't want her to stop looking.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #wandanat #pietro maximoff

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mochinek0 · 3 months

Text

Time to Go

Marinette had known since she was born that she was the only daughter of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul. She was also Damian's little sister, by three years.

When the strike on Ra's Al Ghul was taken, Talia quickly hid her away. Marinette knew her family's lives were on the line. She knew Damian would be on the front lines and prayed for his safe return. Although she knew she wasn't her grandfather's favorite, she still mourned his death. Damian seemed to take it especially hard.

Talia had told Marinette and Damian that they would be seperated for the time being. She needed Damian to go with his father to continue his training, while she picked up the pieces of the League.

"What about me, Mother?" Mari questioned.

"You will be on a mission, all of your own." Talia explained, "You're mission is to go undercover. You will act as a daughter of other people. This will keep you safe. Not many know of your existence, but I need to make sure all that wish to harm us, are gone."

"I do not approve of this." Damian snarled.

"I understand." Talia whispered, "I have folders for each of you with detailed instructions. Until you are in your new lodgings, you are not to open them."

Marinette nodded sadly and cried herself to sleep in her big brother's arms. She knew it would be a while before she saw him again. Talia gave them their moment. It hurt her dearly to tear her children apart, but Slade had to pay for his crimes. The League had to be rebuilt and become stronger than ever to give them both their inheritance. With Ra's gone, she would train Marinette to become as deadly as her, when she came of age.

Marinette smiled at the envelope in her hand.

'Another letter from mother. I wonder what my orders are this time.'

Marinette,

The time has come for your father to pick you up. He and Damian will pick you up in three days time. Prepare for his arrival.

Marinette smiled, happily. Lila had been a pain in the ass, as of late. Sabine and Tom took everything her so-called friends said at face value. They would laugh at the implications over dinner. Marinette would tell them all of the lies and how brainless the class truly was. They both knew that if Marinette was really bullying Lila, she could have done far worse. Tom and Sabine had disagreed with Adrien's decleration, but told Mairnette to keep the piece while they reached out to Talia. Only her mother's orders were absolute. If her mother said she could kill her, they wouldn't stand in her way.

"Maman. Papa." Marinette called out.

"So, what did the letter say this time?" Sabine asked.

"Father and Brother will be here in three days time to retrieve me." she answered.

"Well, let's start pulling you out of that horrible school and get ou all packed up." Tom laughed, "I'm sure they will be happy to see you."

'Damian, perhaps. Father; I don't know if he even knows of my existence. Surprise, Father.'

Bruce sighed, "What do you mean you have a sister?"

"It's just as I stated." Damian declared, "Mother has insisted it is safe to retrieve her."

"You've been talking to Talia?" Dick questioned.

"No." the young Wayne heir answered, "She gave us both instructions before we left."

Damian held up the letter.

"There are certain dates for me to open these letters." he explained, "Most of them coincide with our birthdays. Today is Marinette's; she turns fifteen."

"So where is she?" Jason asked.

"Paris, France." Damian stated, "She has been under watchful eyes and was assigned to live as a normal child. No assassin work. Grandfather wasn't too happy that he didn't have two grandsons. Mother taught her self-defense, but she helped out around, mostly as a servant. I was to ignore her if I saw her unless we were alone."

Bruce rubbed his head.

"I have already prepared another room, Sir." Alfred smiled.

"Please, don't let there be two of him." Tim pleaded as Bruce stood up and walked out of the cave to pack.

Marinette handed over her ledger of Lila Rossi to Bruce.

"The school needs to choose their staff more carefully." she spoke, "Tom and Sabine have tried stepping in with the Principal, but I bellieve the Board needs to know what is going on under their noses.

Bruce looked at it and quickly read through it.

"I agree." he snarled, "I'll be taking it with me to the board. I need to legally sign you out of that school, anyways."

Marinette turned to her brother and hugged him.

"I missed you." she whispered.

Damian said nothing, but held her close.

Tom and Sabine stood by as they watch the girl they help raise, reunite with her family. Marinette let go and realized they were holding something.

"We have a copy of all of the recipes we've made over the years." Sabine declared, "Both in the bakery and just for the house."

"Family eyes only." Tom smiled.

"Thank you." Marinette replied, taking it and holding it close to her chest.

"I will make sure it is handed over to our grandfather and he will keep it locked up and safe." Damian declared.

Tom and Sabine smiled.

"I need to take my stuff back to the school." Mari spoke up.

"Go." Damian replied, "Father should return soon. I will tell him where you are and we will meet you there. I will put your belongings in the car so we can leave immediately."

Marinette walked into class and handed her class books over to Ms. Bustier.

"Marinette, why-" Caline began to question.

"I resign as class president." Mari announced.

"What?" Caline whispered in shock.

"Marinette?" Adrien called out, "Are you okay?"

"Is this why you haven't been in school?" Alya asked.

Caline laughed awkwardly, "Marinette, I'm sure-"

"I will be leaving this school, as of today." she announced, leaving the class stunned.

"Oh, Marinette!" Lila called out, standing up, "Did I do something? I only wanted to be friends!"

"Yeah!" shouted Kim, "What the hell?"

"I'll be moving in with my birth father and older brother." Marinette stated, "Mother says it is time for me to go with them."

"Sabine kicked you out?" Adrien questioned, confused.

"Sabine and Tom are my guardians, not my parents." Mari declared, "My birth father listened to me. I have always had a keen eye for detail, as many of you know from asking me to design for them."

"Are you till going on about 'Lila stealing from you'?" Alya asked, "We know it was you who stole!"

Lila paled and sat back down in her seat.

'What?'

Marinette looked at Lila and smiled, "Why do you think Ms. Bustier doesn't want me to stop being class president? It's because I make detailed plans for all the school trips, fundraisers, plan the fire drills, and escape routes. I even know where everything in this school is, including the security cameras. I have kept a record of every lie you said sice you got here, where and when. My father turned the evidence over to the Board of Governers."

Lila's jaw dropped.

"If the cameras aren't working, then they'll just go after that gullible man. Pretty sure embezzlement won't keep him in position." Mari shrugged.

"Huh?" asked Nino.

"How many times do you think the mayor pays him to look the other way when Chloe's being a bitch?" Marinette declared.

"Excuse me!" Chloe shouted.

"Maybe Lila can lend you her hearing aids." Marinette retorted.

"This is why you're a bully." Alix glared at her.

Marinette simply smiled.

Bruce and Damian walked in. Chloe smoothed her clothes and fluffed her hair, quickly. She stood up and smiled.

"I'm-" She spoke.

"Your voice is like nails on a chalk board." Damian commanded, "Be silent."

Chloe closed her mouth and sat down in embarassment, leaving everyone speechless.

Marinette giggled, "You always did know how to make an entrance, Big Brother."

Chloe's jaw dropped.

'She's a Wayne!'

Marinette turned and smiled at Chloe, "Goodbye, Daddy's Little Princess." before turning back to her family, "Father, I am ready to return home."

"Very well." Bruce spoke.

All three of them left the class without another word. There was a lot they had to discuss. As far as Bruce knew, Marinette had no idea about him being Batman and Damian being Robin. She had grown up with some semblance of a normal life and he wanted to keep it that way.

The class looked at the door confused.

"Chloe?" whispered Sabrina.

"Shit!" Chloe screamed, slamming her fists onto the desk.

"Chloe, are you okay?" asked Kim.

"No!" she yelled back, "Do I look okay? So you know-You don't know who they are? Of course you Pea Brains, don't! That was Bruce and Damian Wayne. Which makes.....Baker Girl is one of the richest people in the world."

Lila sat in her seat, enraged.

'What?'

"What?" questioned Alya.

"They have more money than mine and Adrikins' family combined." she scoffed, "Her father could buy Daddy's hotel like it was nothing!"

"But-" whispered Mylene.

"Marinette is a Wayne." Chloe stated, "The Waynes own an international business and have their hands in everything. They are old money. Bruce Wayne practically owns a whole city and just doesn't wanna be mayor."

"What about her brother?" asked Alix.

"He's known for being violent and lashing out. He hates the press." she remarked, "One thing about him on social media and he hunts you down and sues you."

"That's illegal." Alya claimed.

"Sorry. Would you prefer to be thrown in jail or settle for a million dollars to delete what you have?" the heiress questioned, "The Wayne family is known for the high IQ and attention to detail, which means....we're all screwed."

The class learned that everything Marinette had said was true. Lila's lies were all exposed. She was expelled and taken to a juvenile detention center, ontop of being sued by various people. Principal Damocles had been fired, as he had zero authority to expell anyone. Their teacher, Caline Bustier, was fired for not doing her job. She never informed the nurse about Lila's illnesses or disabilities, so there was never any confirmation that any of those were true. She also never sent Lila any homework during her 'travels' and so she was far behind the class in her studies.

Chloe believed she was suffering the most. Adrien was no longer in school with her. The people that let her do what she wanted was removed from the school and she was being forced to sell clothes out of her closet because her mother was upset by how much she 'embarassed them' in front of the Waynes.

'Stupid Marinette! This is all her fault! If she had just acted rich, like me, everything would be the same as it always was.'

The class was in disarray. Not only had Ms. Bustier let Lila slide on so many things, she was behind on their lessons as well. They now had mandatory after school tutoring and study sessions. Adrien Agreste had been pulled out of the class due to his high marks. He was also at the level they all should have been at.

"Dude, how did you pass?" Nino asked, "We all listened to Miss Bustier! You're higher than anyone, including Max!"

"Well, I was homeschooled and Natalie was a tough teacher compared to Miss Bustier. Also, I wanted to be at the same grade level as Chloe. I sorta knew mostly everything, already." Adrien admitted, "I actually could have skipped a few grades if I wanted to."

Nino was surprised, "Would you be willing to tutor us?"

"I wish I could but the board made me take a test and Father demanded I answer every question I knew correctly." Adrien sighed, "I'll be going to high school and if I continue the way I am now, I'm set to graduate in two years."

They realized it would never be the same. Everyone else still had four or five years until they graduated.

Bruce thought that another child would tip the balance of the manor, but he was wrong. It felt like all they had been missing, was her. She adjusted perfectly to the chaos. His sons insisted that Marinette learn self-defense, at the very least. She refused to walk in their footsteps and become Robin or any other sort of vigilante. It hadn't taken long for Marinette to be announced as Bruce Wayne's daughter and Damian's long lost biological sister. Marinette had taken Gotham by storm as Gotham's Angel and was designing under a new alias: Serpentine. She was taking the fashion world by storm.

Everyone loved having Marinette around, but Damian Al-Ghul Wayne knew better. Marinette was as deceiving as their mother. She looked innocent in everything she did, but her mind was a war zone. Their grandfather never appreciated her mind, but he had gotten some of his best stealth mission ideas after talking with her. He could see her slithering into every crack in their new home. She was flexible like Grayson, loved motorcycles like Todd, talked business with Father and Drake. She even won over Alfred, Brown and Cain with her cooking and baking skills.

Damian watched as Marinette smiled at her computer. The look at the screen, the smile; it was his mother's smile. He could see Gabriel stocks were plummeting after their reunion in Paris. Style Queen was barely hovering above water. For Marinette, it was never about becoming Robin. It was about ruling the world and she was going do it through fashion.

Damian would never tell anyone, but he was scared of his little sister and he would take it to his grave. The smile that would lead anyone to death: The Arabian Helen of Troy.

TAG LIST: @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @missmadwoman @meira-3919 @princessdaisysolosyourfaves @blep-23 @fangirlingfanatic @darkhinauniverse @ravenr22 @im-a-satanic-ritual @ravennm84 @bianca-hooks123 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @starling218 @stainedglassm @psychicdelusionwerewolf @mysteriouschar @missmadwoman

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nerdyenby · 10 months

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Things I noticed in my rewatch of Nimona (spoilers):

Gosh, I didn’t even remember the squire “trying to take a selfie” with Bal the first time round, it works so well both ways

The gay and trans flags behind Bal and Nimona at ~38:40

Nimona’s “You got betrayed by someone you trust, I get it, it sucks”

Ballister looking right at the American flag when talking about how Ambrosius was just doing “what we were trained to do”

The director referring to Ambrosius as “Captain” during the confrontation of the rooftop

The director’s poster saying “protecting our way of life,” an uncomfortably familiar xenophobic phrase

Nimona disguised as Ambrosius grabbing and pulling the Gloreth statue to the floor with her

Bal’s username being balliSTAR12

The director having the segment of Nimona turning into her kid form on loop every time we see her office, and that being how she made the connection to Nimona being the being that Gloreth “killed”

The movie Bal and Nimona watch describes zombies as “immortal, eternal beings” unable to be killed, followed by a woman asking “But what if they come for us?” The zombies — like Nimona — never attacked first, it was out of fear that they were hunted and any act of self-defense only served as justification for their cause

The very intentional fear mongering taking place in the director’s broadcast

God, Nimona was never aiming for anything but Gloreth’s sword

Ambrosius’s “You’re okay” to the old human he saves from getting squashed under Nimona’s feet mirroring her “It’s okay” to the little girl she saved from the car

An unnamed extra’s dialogue “Forget the kid, let’s go” being the antithesis to Bal’s running into the wreckage to get to Nimona

Bal’s “What have I done?” 🤝 Ambrosius’s “What are we doing?”

The vocalization as Nimona reaches the statue being the same as the first time she met Gloreth

Bal’s blade representing the corruption he’s resisting and every time he discards it drawing him closer to true compassion

The brunt of the director’s blast hitting Ambrosius’s left arm while Ballister lost his right

The centerpiece of Nimona’s memorial being in the comic’s style

The graffiti in Nimona’s handwriting of “love is love” on Gloreth’s statue’s hair

#nimona

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nabwastaken · 4 months

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Dan and Donna are such an interesting ass duo. They've appeared more than the main character of Black Friday. They're the news anchors. They're played by a married couple in real life. There's probably something going on behind the scenes between them. They're a meme. The only thing they talk about is a squirrel who they misgender constantly. Pamela Foster wakes up and neglects her children to watch one of them. Knowing Hatchetfield they've probably killed someone in either self defense or cold blood. They've blamed each other of murder. They've covered the protests live at the Hatchetfield Kennel. Nick and Matt will never elaborate on any of the lore I just mentioned.

Us as a community have no choice but to stan.

#hatchetverse #starkid #team starkid #dan reynolds #donna daggit #peanuts the hatchetfield pocket squirrel #The icons #i unironically love them #Where's our Nightmare time about them???

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 2 months

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Cinderblock Garden - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This was a request that I got, but after talking with the person that requested it, I made a few changes and didn't want to use the request in the fic lmao. It's LONG AS FUCK and I've been working on this for four days now. There's a lot in this, from events in Scream 5, leading to New York stuff.

*to the sweet soul that requested this, I hope things are a little better for you now, and I hope you like this and that it was worth the wait lmao*

This contains SMUT -Minors DNI

Summary: You're the child of Gale and Dewey, and after losing your dad and almost dying yourself, you struggle with day to day life. When you meet Ethan, he just wants you to let him in, but after your ex, Amber, tried to kill you, you struggle to do that.

Contains: Over 10k words, jesus. Angst, mentions of death, mental health struggles, some fluffy smut tbh. Virgin!Ethan and Virgin!Reader -p in v, oral(f recieving).

A/N: In this fic, Ethan is simply Ethan Landry and has no relation to Richie.

When your parents split, you had the option to move to New York with your mom, Gale, or stay in Woodsboro with your dad, Dewey. You decided to stay with your dad because your mom’s main priority was always her career. Even when you’d go out to visit her every now and then, she’d never take any time off, always leaving you alone in her condo. You couldn’t stand her new boyfriend, either. You hated how quickly she could just move on from your dad when he still loved her so much.

You had your doubts about love after watching your parents’ marriage fall apart, until you met Amber. It started off as a friendship, the perfect distraction from your less than perfect home life. Especially when your dad started drinking, she was always there. You realized that you had feelings, she did, too. Everyone else in the friend group was a little surprised by it, but they were all very accepting of it, wanting nothing more than for you to be happy.

When Tara got attacked, your dad wanted to put you on the first plane to New York. Your mom agreed with him, but you refused. You weren’t going to leave your best friend while she recovered, and you really didn’t want to leave Amber.

“Please, this is what’s best for you,” your dad said, pleading with you to get out of Woodsboro. “You’re the child of two people that have been through this several times. If they went after Tara, they’ll probably come after you. I can’t let that happen.”

You sighed, noticing the whisky bottle in his hand. “You put me through so many self defense classes…I think I can handle myself.”

“I was the sheriff, with far more training than you’ve had. I’ve been stabbed several times…you’re not invincible.”

“I’m not saying I am. If I really am a target, don’t you think they’d find me regardless of if I’m in Woodsboro or not?” you questioned, as he took a swig out of the bottle. “I’m safer here with you.”

He sighed, looking over to you. “Fine, but the tracking app on your phone…if you turn it off so I can’t find you, you’re going to New York. If you don’t come straight home after school, you’re going to New York. If you have a run-in with Ghostface-“

“I’m going to New York. I got it,” you said, rolling your eyes. “So, I’m not allowed to do anything other than go to school or be here?”

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m not going to lose you,” he said, his tone stern.

“Okay, but what happens when you’re at the bar getting wasted and I’m here by myself? Isn’t it safer to have people around me?” You didn’t expect your question to come out as harshly as it did, his face wincing as you spoke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“No, you’re right. I’ll be home more, I promise,” he said, feeling guilty for making you doubt him. “Just…if you do go out with your friends, please be smart about it. Someone you’re close to is probably a part of this…just remember that. And I meant what I said about the phone tracker.”

You nodded, as he pulled you into a side hug. “Your mom is probably coming out here, just so you know.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, “The boyfriend isn’t coming with her, right?”

“I don’t know. I hope not,” he sighed, the sadness in his voice obvious. “You better get to school.”

Everyone in your friend group was on edge. Tara was alive, but her condition wasn’t great. As you joined your friends at the picnic tables outside, Amber wrapped her arm around you.

“Hey, babe,” she said, “Did you get questioned, too?”

“Yeah, I was interrogated for all of five minutes. I guess that’s the perk of being a former sheriff’s kid,” you said, as Wes looked over to you.

“How is your dad? We haven’t seen him in a while,” he asked, as you shrugged.

“He’s still the same. He tried to convince me to go to New York after what happened last night,” you sighed, as Wes gave you a confused look.

“If you had the chance to get far away from here, why the fuck wouldn’t you take it?” he asked, the paranoia that his mom instilled in him apparent as you just looked at him.

“I’m not leaving Tara…or you guys. It’s better to have more people here if this is going to be another huge thing like it’s been before.”

“Yeah, but is it a safety in numbers thing, or will it just add to the body count if you stay?” Mindy asked, as Chad sighed.

“Seriously? We’re all freaked out enough,” he said, as Wes’ phone dinged in his pocket.

“Hey guys, Tara just woke up.”

When everyone got up to leave, you looked around at your friends, thinking back to what your dad said. You saw them all in such a positive light that you couldn’t even begin to suspect any of them.

Once you made it to the hospital, Tara was so happy to see everyone. Or it could’ve been all the pain meds she was on. You sat down at the foot of her bed as she sleepily smiled.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, starting to tear up as you looked at her.

“I’m okay, still shaken up, though,” she sighed, “They have police protection for me, but you guys need to be careful.”

“We’ll be fine,” Amber said knowingly as Tara smiled.

Then you saw someone you hadn’t seen in years walk into the hospital room, with whom you assumed to be her boyfriend when he called her ‘babe’.

“Hey, this is Richie,” Sam said, introducing him as he awkwardly waved.

He gave you the creeps from the start. You couldn’t shake the thought from your mind that he was guilty of something, but your parents always told you that you needed to be cautious of everyone.

“Hey, can I talk to Sam alone?” Tara asked, as everyone nodded. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

“Of course, we’ll be back tomorrow,” you said, standing up to leave.

When you made it out to the hallway, you checked the time and saw a few missed calls from your dad.

“Fuck, I need to get home,” you said, typing a text to him before putting your phone back in your pocket.

“We were going to go have some fun, though,” Amber said, “Is this how it’s going to be? Ghostface comes back and I don’t get to spend time with my girlfriend?”

“You really won’t spend any time with me if I get sent to New York,” you said, as you hopped on the elevator with everyone.

“This is annoying,” she huffed, “Wes is allowed to go out with us, and you know how his mom is.”

“Hey,” Wes said, “I have a taser and pepper spray, I’m good to go.”

“And I’ve got these hands, but dad doesn’t think that’s good enough,” you laughed, as you made it to the bottom floor. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Your dad was a little annoyed when you got home, but he was just happy to know you were safe. As much as he hated your decision to stay in Woodsboro, he thought you were a pretty good judge of character and you always paid close attention to your surroundings.

Things just kept getting crazier. When Wes and Judy were killed, you and your dad ran into Sam at the crime scene. You were making small talk with her, when she nudged her head in the direction behind you.

“Isn’t that your mom?” she asked, as you turned around.

You noticed she had a camera crew with her, as you felt anger start to build up. Your dad went over to talk to her, as she kept peaking around him to look at you.

“Typical. Something happens in Woodsboro and she has to get the fucking story on it,” you said to Sam.

She was about to respond when she noticed the cop that was supposed to be watching Tara’s room standing outside of the Hick’s house.

“Who’s with my sister?” She questioned as he looked at her, confused.

She started to yell, getting your dad’s attention as he ran back over to you, your mom hot on his heels.

“I need to get to Tara,” Sam said, running towards her car.

“I’m coming with you,” you said, following her.

“I don’t think so,” Gale said, “You’re staying here, around people so you’ll be safe.”

You scoffed as you turned to look at her, “So now you decide you want to be a parent?”

She was taken aback at your words, as your dad stepped in. “I’ll go, too. She’ll be safe.”

He hopped in the passenger’s seat as you got in the back, your mom just standing there in shock as the three of you sped off.

“You shouldn’t talk to your mother like that,” Dewey scolded, as he noticed Sam’s high rate of speed. “and you should probably slow down.”

“Tara’s by herself. I’m not going to let anything happen to her,” Sam snapped, as she turned onto the road that led to the hospital. “Richie’s on his way, I hope someone gets there in time.”

She got out her phone to call Richie, as she pulled into the hospital parking lot. She was frantic when she realized the call was picked up, but she was terrified once she heard Ghostface’s voice. She stopped the car as she talked, quickly jumping out with you and your dad as you ran inside of the hospital to the elevator to get to Tara’s private floor.

She just kept talking to the killer as you and your dad silently stood beside her. He pulled out his gun, waiting for the doors to open. As soon as they did, he fired a shot, the loud bang making you jump. The masked person scurried away, when everyone piled out of the elevator to save Tara and Richie.

“Tara!” you screamed, running up to her. Your dad ran to Richie as you and Sam helped Tara off the floor.

Your best friend was very emotional and shaken up as her sister hugged her, but you were still on edge. You had a gut feeling that something was about to happen.

Then, you saw Ghostface charge towards Richie and your dad. You grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall and ran towards the figure that was trying to attack your dad. You hit the person over the head, but you felt a sharp, burning pain in your side as you did. Your dad was able to fight back thanks to your distraction, getting in a few shots as Ghostface fell through the glass case against the hallway wall.

“Fuck,” you cried, holding your wound. Your dad’s arms wrapped around you as he walked you towards the elevator, when Richie walked over to help.

“Thanks,” Dewey said, as he walked you inside. “Shit, I didn’t shoot him in the head.”

“Does that really matter right now?” you asked, as he nodded. He stepped back out of the elevator, a sad smile on his face as he looked at you, doubled over. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to finish this,” he said, as you craned your neck to look at him.

“Dad, no. You can’t do that!” you cried, as he started to walk down the hall.

“I need to make sure you’re safe. This is how I can do that,” he paused, “I love you.”

As soon as those elevator doors closed, you started screaming, begging to go back to your dad. Sam wouldn’t let that happen. She just kept trying to assure you that he’d be okay, and that you and Tara both needed medical attention.

He wasn’t okay, though. You soon learned what happened to your dad when your mom somberly walked into the hospital room, her sad eyes meeting yours. To say you were emotionally destroyed would’ve been an understatement. You expected your mom to be a little more comforting, and she was trying, but she seemed more interested in getting details on any new leads the detectives might’ve had.

For safety reasons, they moved Tara to the same room as you, making it easier for the police to keep an eye on the both of you.

“She’s really starting to piss me off,” you sighed, as Tara looked over at you. “I’m in here, absolutely fucking devastated, and she’d rather talk to the cops.”

“Maybe she’s just trying to do what she can to keep you safe,” she suggested, “Have you heard from Amber?”

“Yeah, she’s having a party for Wes tonight. Not that you and I will be attending,” you laughed a little, as she smiled.

“Sam wants to get me out of here as soon as possible. I don’t know where she wants to go, but she just wants us to be somewhere safe.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea…maybe I’ll sneak out of here with you guys,” you said, half-joking as Tara started to nod.

“If your mom’s distracted, and the cops are busy talking to her anyway, we could sneak you out.”

“Fuck it, let’s do it.”

Your mom walked back in the room, looking back and forth between you and Tara.

“Do what?” she questioned, as you glanced back over to your friend.

“Oh, um, we were talking about college. We’re both going to apply to Blackmore,” you lied, as your mom started to smile.

“Are you warming up to the idea of New York?” she asked, as you shook your head.

“Not at all, but I want my best friend there with me,” you said, a defeated look appearing on her face.

“It’s not as bad as you think it is.”

After the police finished questioning Richie and Sam for the second time of the day, they joined you, your mom, and Tara in the room. Sidney walked in not long after, a sad smile on her face as she saw you in the hospital bed.

“You’ve grown up so much,” she said, walking over to you, “I’m so sorry about your dad.”

“Thanks, Sid,” you said softly, “How are the kids?”

She smiled at you, “They’re fine. They’re somewhere safe.”

“I wish I was somewhere safe,” you joked, as your mom rolled her eyes.

“You had the chance to come to New York,” she sighed, “If you would’ve just listened to me and your dad then maybe we wouldn’t be in here right now.”

“What, and dad wouldn’t be dead, too?” you snapped, looking towards her.

“I didn’t say that…this whole ‘you hating me’ thing isn’t going to work. We need to be there for each other.”

You were about to respond when a detective came in to talk to your mom. She stepped out with Sidney, walking to the next hallway over so you wouldn’t hear the conversation.

“Now’s our chance,” Tara said, as Sam looked between you two, confused.

“Chance for what?”

“We’re sneaking her out with us,” Tara said, wincing as she pulled her IV out.

“What the fuck are you doing? You haven’t been discharged yet,” Sam sighed, looking over to see you doing the same. “I’m not kidnapping you, I’m sorry.”

“Look, we want to be somewhere safe. She isn’t going to be safe if she stays here and we go. Her mom’s barely paid attention to her since we’ve been in here…if you want me to go, she’s going too,” Tara said, as Sam sighed, looking over to Richie. He shrugged, walking over to the door to peak out.

“No cops, no Gale,” he said, as Sam rolled her eyes.

“Fuck it, fine. You both better hurry up though.”

You did as Sam said, the both of you quickly changing before sneaking past the nurses’ station towards the exit.

After your mom and Sidney finished talking to a detective in the next hall over, she came back to see your bed empty. She started to panic, noticing your IV line resting on top of the bed and most of your stuff gone. She looked over to the other side of the room, realizing that Tara was gone, too.

“Excuse me, where did they take my daughter?” Gale asked one of the nurses that’d passed by the doorway.

He grabbed an iPad off the nurse’s station, trying to pull you up. “She doesn’t have any testing or anything scheduled…she’s not in her room?” He craned his neck to peak around, noticing the empty bed.

“She’s a minor, isn’t there some kind of alert you guys have for this?!” She yelled, as the nurse nodded.

“I’ll take care of that right away.”

It didn’t matter, though. You’d already made it out of the hospital by the time the code was called.

“Where do you think she went?” Sydney asked, as your mom tried to rack her brain.

“I’m not the mom of the year, okay? I barely know her anymore,” she sighed, as Sidney sympathetically smiled at her.

“Whatever happened, now that Dewey’s gone, you’re going to have to fix that relationship,” she said, as your mom nodded. “She’s a good kid.”

“I know, I just hope she’s okay.”

When you were in the back seat with Tara, her asthma was flaring up as she tried to find her inhaler.

“Fuck, I don’t have it,” she panicked, as Sam looked at her in the rearview mirror.

“Can you wait until we’re in the next town?” she asked, as Richie glanced back to see Tara’s breathing getting worse.

“No…this is getting bad,” you said, trying to search Tara’s purse again. “Do you still have the spare one at Ambers?”

“Yeah, Sam, we need to go to Amber’s,” Tara said, as Sam shook her head.

“I don’t think so,” she said, her lack of understanding for how bad the situation was starting to piss you off.

“She’s going to be dead by the time we get to the next fucking town. Go to Amber’s,” you yelled, as Sam hesitantly nodded. “Turn left up here.”

As your mom and Sidney searched around the hospital hoping to find you, she remembered the app Dewey put on your phone so he’d always know where you were. He gave her the log-in too just in case she ever needed it. She quickly pulled her phone out, checking to see what your location was as Sidney looked at her.

“She’s not even here,” Gale said, as she and Sidney bolted towards the exit.

Once they made it in the car and started to drive, your mom was looking at the tracking app, noticing that you’d stopped.

“Turner Lane, why does that sound so familiar?” she asked, as Sidney’s eyes grew wide.

“Please don’t tell me that’s where she is,” Sidney said, pressing the gas a little harder, “Stu Macher used to live on Turner Lane.”

“Oh fuck,” Gale said, as she tried to call you.

Your phone was on silent in your pocket as you went up to Amber’s room. The party downstairs was in full swing as you tried to help your girlfriend search for Tara’s inhaler.

“Are you okay?” Amber asked, “I’m sorry about your dad.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you sighed, thinking about him as you dug through a box on top of Amber’s dresser. “Found it!” you held up the inhaler as she smiled.

“Can you please call me when you make it to wherever you’re going so I know you’re safe, please?” she asked, as she stepped towards you.

“Yeah, I just need to get the fuck away from my mom for a few days.”

She nodded in understanding as you ran out of her room, down the stairs to find Tara.

“Stupid bitch,” Amber muttered, once she knew you couldn’t hear her.

After you gave Tara her inhaler, you pulled your phone out of your pocket to see twenty missed calls from your mom.

“Jesus, someone’s freaking out,” you said, showing Tara the screen.

“Maybe you should call her back. Just let her know you’re okay.”

“Fine,” you sighed, but before you had the chance to call her, she was calling you again.

You answered, “Hey mom, I’m fine-“

“You need to get the fuck out of that house right now!” she yelled, the second she heard your voice.

“How do you know where I am?” you questioned, annoyance in your tone as she started to yell again.

“You’re in Stu Macher’s house,” your heart started to race as you looked over to Sam, Tara, and Richie. You’d heard that name many times before. You started to look around, thinking about how the party at his house was the finale of the first Woodsboro Massacre where your dad was stabbed.

“We need to get out of here, right now,” you said to them, as Richie started to smirk.

“Did someone finally figure it out?” he asked, the psychotic excitement in his voice making your skin crawl.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, jumping as you heard a gunshot coming from the living room, accompanied by several screams. “What the fuck is going on?”

Sam and Tara started to back away from Richie as you looked at him.

“God, you know, you guys really are the perfect victims. Serial killer dad,” he said, looking to Sam, “oblivious little sister,” he said to Tara, before turning to you, “and the child of the sheriff that tried to take down Billy and Stu. It’s hilarious. You get to die where he should’ve.”

“Fuck you,” you said through gritted teeth, as he started to step towards you.

“You want to know what the best part of this whole little fucked up scenario is, though?” he asked, as Amber walked into the room. “I’ve been fucking your girlfriend.” Sam glanced over to you, the obvious look of disgust and betrayal painted on both of your faces.

Your mouth dropped as you looked over to Amber. “Sorry, baby,” she said, so nonchalantly that your blood was starting to boil. You shook your head as you thought back to your dad telling you that you probably knew who was responsible for everything.

“Did you kill my dad?” you asked Amber as she shrugged, muttering “Maybe,” as you stepped towards her.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Richie said, pulling out a knife and pointing it at you as Sam and Tara started to back away, looking at you. You nodded towards the side door as Amber walked up to kiss Richie.

While they were distracted, you glanced along the counters to see if there was anything you could use that would be helpful. You saw the knife block, and as the rage started to build up even more towards Amber for stabbing you and killing your dad.

You subtly grabbed a knife from behind you, and started to step towards them as you held it firmly in your hand behind your back.

“Where did the other two go?” Amber asked, pulling away from Richie as he turned around to look.

“I’ll go find them,” he said, waving his knife around. “Don’t try anything. She doesn’t love you enough to save you.”

As soon as he walked away, you looked at Amber. “Is that true? You don’t love me enough to save me?”

“I never fucking loved you. God, I only wanted to get close to you and your friends. It amazes me how stupid you are,” she scoffed, as you stepped even closer, “What are you going to do? I was stronger than your dad, you dumb bitch. Do you really think you’re going to win in a fight against me?”

“I don’t need to be stronger than you,” you smiled, “Because you’re the one that doesn’t have a knife right now.”

As soon as you pulled the knife from behind your back, she darted towards the gun on the kitchen island. You were quicker though, stabbing her before she was able to grab it. She dropped to her knees as she held her stomach. In that moment, she looked weak and helpless. You couldn’t shake the thought that she had your dad feeling that way when she killed him.

“Baby, why would you do that?” she asked, her psychotic eyes pleading with yours.

You looked down at her, the fury in your eyes obvious as she tried to plead with you.

“How the fuck could you do this to me? To my fucking dad?!”

“Oh, please. You knew he was a shitty dad,” she scoffed, before whining again at the pain she was feeling. “I got him good, too. I just wish you could’ve seen it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you screamed, as you stabbed her again.

Richie ran back in the room with Tara and Sam, noticing Amber on the floor and the large, bloody knife in your hand. You started to run towards him, thinking you could finish all of this. You didn’t though, because as soon as you made it to Richie, he plunged his knife into your stomach several times.

“No!” Tara screamed, as you dropped to the floor, blood immediately pooling beside you on the floor. You heard Tara’s cries as your vision started to get fuzzy.

“You really thought you were going to do something with that, didn’t you?” Richie laughed, “I’m sure your mom will be here soon, and you’ll get to be with both of your parents after I’m finished with her. Now’s a good time to thank me.”

“Fuck you,” you said weakly, as you started to lose consciousness.

“Oh, look at all that blood,” was the last thing you heard before blacking out.

You woke up in the hospital several days later with your mom and Sidney sitting beside your bed. You groaned as your eyes tried to adjust to the fluorescent lighting.

“Hey,” your mom said, “They weren’t sure when you’d wake up.”

“Lights,” you choked out, your voice raw.

“Try not to talk a lot, okay?” Sidney said, as she got up to flip the switch. “You almost didn’t pull through. They had to intubate you for surgery.”

You laid there in silence for a few minutes, like your brain was trying to process everything that happened. The heart rate monitor started to beep faster as you thought about your dad and the rest of your friends. Your breathing got heavier, as you started to shake your tingling hands.

Your mom went out to grab a nurse, who rushed in to check on you.

“Let’s give you something to help you calm down,” she said, pulling out a syringe. She injected medication into your IV as you tried to take deep breaths in comparison to the shallow ones you kept sucking in.

“What’s going on?” your mom asked, as the nurse turned to look at her.

“She’s having a panic attack. It’s normal after trauma like what she went through,” she said, before turning to you, “Would you like some water?”

You nodded, as she stepped out of the room. She came back a few minutes later with your water and one of the doctors.

“We’re going to suggest lots of therapy,” the doctor said, as she looked over at your dazed expression from the meds. “Physical and mental. It’s going to be a long road, just be patient with her.”

“I’m going to take her back to New York with me. If you have any recommendations for doctors out there, I’d appreciate it,” Your mom said, as the doctor nodded.

“I’ll be right back.”

As you sipped the water, it started to soothe your dry, irritated throat. After the doctor walked back in with the list of doctors in New York, you tried to speak.

“Tara?” you got out, as your mom smiled.

“She’s okay. Sam is too.”

“Chad and Mindy?”

“They’re okay. Chad was a little touch and go at first, too. He’s in the next room over,” she said, as you started to smile.

You were devastated about your dad and Wes but knowing that most of your friends survived gave you an ounce of hope that everything would be okay.

Once you’d healed enough to leave the hospital, you had a tearful goodbye with everyone as you prepared to go to New York.

“I hope you were serious about Blackmore…we all kind of applied,” Tara said, as Mindy nodded.

“Seriously? That would be so cool,” you said, smiling. “I’d love to have you guys close by.”

Your mom stood by and watched as Sam walked up to talk to her.

“I know Tara will most likely get in, she’s a smart one,” Sam said, with a small laugh. “If you can think of any safe areas for us to live, let me know.”

“You’d be coming with her?” your mom asked, as Sam nodded.

“I’m never letting her out of my sight,” she sighed, “I’m so sorry for your loss, with Dewey. If it wasn’t for him, we probably wouldn’t have made it through the attack at the hospital.”

“Thank you…I’m just sad he won’t get to see all the great things I know she’s going to do with her life.”

After a few months of living in New York, you started to get adjusted. You had physical therapy three times a week and had to see your psychiatrist at least once a week, but you felt like you were starting to find yourself again, aside from struggling with anxiety and PTSD. Your mom’s boyfriend, Brooks, was even starting to piss you off a little less. You’d had several conversations with him about your dad, and he was trying to step up. He didn’t want to take your dad’s place by any means, but he was trying so hard to be a trusted male figure in your life, aside from Chad, who was still on the opposite side of the country.

On your eighteenth birthday, Tara FaceTimed you. You were smiling so big when you saw all of your friends, their own version of a surprise party making your heart swell. That’s the day they told you they all got into Blackmore, and you started to count down the days.

“Mom, don’t you think I should get the full college experience?” you sighed, as she rolled her eyes.

“You’re not staying in a dorm, and that’s final,” she said, as you glanced over to Brooks.

“I can’t help you with this one. You know your mom has her mind made up,” he said, as he leaned against the kitchen island.

“Whatever,” you huffed, walking towards your room.

Your mom and Brooks just looked at each other as she sighed in defeat.

“She might be annoyed with you right now, but she’ll get over it,” he said, wrapping his arm around her.

“I hope so, I’m getting sick of all the teen angst,” she said, laughing a little.

“How’s her therapy been?”

“She said it’s going well. They’ve really been unpacking the Amber stuff…I just hope she’s able to trust someone again someday.”

“She will.”

Once your friends made it to New York, your mom let you go out and explore the city for the first time without her. She was nervous, regularly checking her phone just to make sure you were okay. She knew your therapy sessions were helping, but you still had your panic attacks and your body wasn’t the strongest yet.

As you walked along the sidewalk with your friends, Chad noticed a comic book store a little further up the street.

“Can we check that out?” he asked, as you nodded.

“This is the same dorky shit you did in Woodsboro. Don’t you want to do something else?” Mindy asked, as her brother scoffed.

“Nope. I’ve already gone into three different clothing stores with you guys AND found my perfect foundation match while you guys were shopping for makeup. You owe me,” he said, making you and Tara laugh.

“Fine, let’s go,” Tara said, before turning to look at you. “Let me know whenever you need to sit down, okay?”

“I will. Let’s get food after this. I can rest while we eat,” you said, as Tara nodded.

When you walked inside, you all went your separate ways as you started to browse around the store. Chad was in heaven, while everyone else was just there to kill the time. As you were walking along one of the rows, you started to get one of your reoccurring abdominal cramps from where you were stabbed. You leaned over, holding your stomach as you tried to breathe through it.

“Hey, are you okay?” you heard a male voice speaking to you, as you groaned out a “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he said softly, as he squatted to talk to you. “Do you need something? Can I call someone for you?”

“I promise I’m okay. Just a bad cramp.”

You soon heard Tara mumble “Oh shit” as she and Mindy ran up to you.

“What happened?” Mindy asked, looking over to the boy.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know. I just saw her doubled over like this.”

The pain started to ease up, as you tried to stand back up.

“Fuck, that was a bad one,” you sighed, as your eyes connected to the person that was trying to help you.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking you over. You couldn’t form words after you saw him. He was your type, and his sweet, shy demeanor was just a plus. Mindy and Tara noticed you checking him out as he kept staring at you, a small smile on his lips. “I’m Ethan, by the way.”

“Hey,” you finally spoke, as Tara and Mindy inched away from you so you could talk to him. “Thanks for trying to help.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, as he started to flip through some of the comic books. “Do you go to Blackmore?”

“I’m about to,” you said, as he turned to you and smiled.

“You’re a freshman, too?”

“Yeah. I’m a little nervous, but I have all my hometown friends with me, so I know it’ll be fun,” you said, as you started to point them out.

“Chad? That’s what my roommate’s name is,” he said, looking towards him. “Wait, that’s him!”

“Oh, small world,” you said, “Hey, Chad!”

He turned around, smiling when he noticed his new roommate standing there.

“Dude, I didn’t know you were into stuff like this!” Chad said, as he walked up.

“Yeah, I’m a little bit of a dork, I guess,” Ethan laughed, as they started to geek out over stuff they’d found.

“How do you two know each other?” Chad asked curiously, as Ethan smiled.

“I just met her. She seems cool,” he said, “Have you guys been friends for a long time?”

“Yeah, we’ve known each other since elementary school. We grew up in this crazy, fucked up little town,” Chad said, as your eyes got wide.

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said, trying to play it off as Chad looked at you in disbelief.

“Yeah, Woodsboro was a walk in the park,” Chad said sarcastically, as you tried to change the subject.

“Can we go get food soon? I’m starving,” you said, as Chad nodded.

“Sure. Ethan, you want to go to lunch with us?”

“I wish I could, but I have to run by the book store. Maybe some other time, but I’ll see you later,” he said to Chad, before smiling at you. “It was nice to meet you. Hopefully I’ll see you again soon.”

“I hope so,” you said, your tone flirty as Chad looked between the two of you.

Ethan walked up to the counter to pay for his stuff, as Chad turned to you.

“What was that all about?” he asked, as you jokingly glared at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a hot roommate?!”

After that day, Chad made it his personal mission to get to know Ethan as well as he could, because he didn’t want you to go through another traumatic relationship. Once he realized that Ethan truly was this shy, dorky guy, he started to bring him around the friend group. The two of you immediately hit it off, and he loved to spend time with you.

Once the relationship started to get a little more serious, he began asking about Woodsboro. After that day at the comic book store, he did his research, but he still had so many questions. He knew you were hurt in some way, because of all the appointments you had, and the random sharp cramps you’d get from time to time. He noticed that you’d always try to push through pain, and he just wanted to have a better understanding of everything.

The last thing you wanted to do was think about what’d happened the year before, let alone talk about it. You had several insecurities about yourself, the scars all over your abdomen being one of the major ones. But you hated feeling weak. You hated that you were struggling to keep up with the high energy your friends and boyfriend had. You hated feeling like you just slowed everyone down.

Ethan didn’t care, though. He was always comforting and okay with taking breaks, or even cutting a date night short if you started to get anxious. He knew he loved you, but he was too shy to say it. He didn’t want to pour his heart out and you say it’s something you weren’t ready for yet.

Your mom was a little skeptical of Ethan. It wasn’t that he’d given her a reason to be, she just wanted you to always be cautious, especially after your last relationship. It got to the point where you’d have to sneak Ethan over whenever your mom and Brooks weren’t home.

“Hey, baby,” Ethan said, as you opened the front door.

“Hi,” you smiled, as he leaned in to kiss you. “Let’s go to my room.”

What was supposed to be the two of you just hanging out led to him on top of you on your bed, your hands in his hair as he kissed you. Your shirt was starting to inch up, his hand roaming over your stomach when you pushed him away.

“Stop,” you said, once you noticed him leaning back down to kiss you again.

“What did I do?” he asked, as you scooted away from him. “Baby, I don’t want to pressure you into talking about things you don’t want to, but you need to tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t want you touching me like that,” you said, your eyes not meeting his as he tried to understand.

“You’re my girlfriend…this is what people in relationships do,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. “If you’re not ready for sex, that’s fine. I just don’t get what the big deal is with me touching you. You never talk to me about it.”

“I think you should go,” you said, as he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” he said, standing up. “You just keep shutting down whenever there’s something we need to talk about. You’re so secretive about what you’ve been through. I feel like I barely know anything about you.”

“Are you saying you want to break up?” you asked, your eyes watering as he shook his head.

“No, babe. I care about you so much…but you don’t trust me. I know something horrible happened to you in Woodsboro, and all I want is to be the supportive boyfriend that you deserve, but I can’t be that for you when you won’t talk to me. I’ve even tried to ask Chad, just so I understand, but he’ll only talk about what happened to him.”

“So, you’ve been trying to get stuff out of Chad because I won’t tell you about it?” you questioned, the pissed expression on your face making him tense up. “I’m not ready to talk to you!”

“Call me when you are,” he said, walking towards your bedroom door.

You felt a panic attack creeping up the second he walked out. You grabbed your anxiety medication and took a pill out, hoping that it would kick in soon. Your hands were shaky as you tried to take it, the water you were trying to drink spilling all over your shirt.

“Fuck,” you muttered, your breathing heavy as you jumped up to grab another shirt to change into.

The second you got the wet one off, Ethan walked back in the room.

“I forgot my phone,” he mumbled, before he saw you. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scars all over your abdomen, feeling sick to his stomach that someone could ever do something like that to you. “Baby…”

“Get the fuck out!” you screamed, as he scrambled to grab his phone off your bedside table. “Now, Ethan! Go!”

You quickly pulled the dry shirt over your head, as he glanced back over to you once more. You were sobbing as he tried to step closer, wanting to comfort you.

“Don’t come near me, Ethan! Go!” you yelled again, as he hesitantly turned around and walked out.

You followed him to the front door, slamming it behind him. You put your back against the door before sliding down it, as you pulled your knees to your chest as you cried.

When your mom got home later in the day to take you to your psychiatrist, you didn’t feel like going. You were still upset from the situation with Ethan earlier in the day, so once she started to argue with you that you needed to go, it got explosive.

“What is wrong with you today? You’ve been making such good progress!” your mom yelled, as you started to pace the floor.

“What’s wrong with me?! I was almost killed, mom! I have these fucking scars all over me that remind me of what I went through every fucking day!” you screamed, as tears started to run down your cheeks. “I have a great boyfriend, someone who really cares about me, and I can’t fucking trust him because of what Amber did to me! Then, he saw my scars earlier and looked at me like I was a fucking victim and I’m sick of feeling that way!”

“Wait, how did he see your scars? What have you been doing when I’m not here?” she questioned, as you stopped your pacing.

“That’s what you took from all that I just said?!” You asked, as Brooks walked in. “I’m not having sex, if that’s what you’re thinking. I want to, though! I want to be able to trust Ethan enough to do that, but I’m too fucked up for that to happen!”

Your mom just looked at you as Brooks tried to calm you down.

“Hey, I know this is none of my business, and I’m sorry for putting my nose where it doesn’t belong…but have you talked to your therapist about Ethan?”

“Not really. He’s only come up a few times,” you sighed, wiping your tears. “I was hoping I could work through things with him on my own, but I still haven’t told him anything that happened. He’s trying so hard, too. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“That kid really cares about you. Maybe you should talk to your doctor about the best way to open up to him,” he said, as you nodded. “I don’t want you to feel like everyone that comes in your life is going to do what Amber did to you.”

Your mom smiled at the interaction, loving how close you were getting to him. His calm demeanor helped so much in diffusing your anxiety.

“Can we still make it to my appointment in time? Or is it too late?” you asked your mom, as she pulled out her phone to check the time.

“We can still make it, we need to leave right now, though.”

“You two get out of here, I’ll have dinner ready when you get back,” Brooks said, pulling you into a side hug as he walked you towards the door.

During your appointment, your doctor recommended that you take a week off from school, just to focus on your mental health. Your professors were very understanding, you just hoped your boyfriend would be, too. You needed to clear your head as you tried to think of the best way to unpack all the trauma with him. You decided to leave your phone off, only turning it on every now and then to let Tara know you were okay.

Ethan was freaking out. When all his calls went straight to voicemail, and you stopped coming to school, he started to think the worst. He knew that you were upset with him, and he felt awful that him seeing you without a shirt affected you as much as he did. Regardless of the scars, he still thought you were beautiful. He finally brought it up to the rest of the friend group and was relieved when Tara said that you were okay.

That’s when he thought about doing something sweet for you. He wanted you to feel better, and he desperately wanted you to forgive him. He went to the mall with Chad, wanting to find some of your favorite things to bring to you.

“What about this?” Chad said, as he walked with Ethan through the party store. Ethan wanted to find you the sweetest card to go with the things he’d bought you, but Chad had other ideas when he pointed to a huge balloon. Ethan rolled his eyes as he looked over to Chad. “What? I don’t think anything says ‘I love you’ like a massive balloon that literally says ‘I love you’.”

“Dude, I don’t want this to be cheesy. I want her to know how I feel without making her cringe,” Ethan said, “Do you think she’ll even answer the door when I try to take this stuff to her?”

“I can’t say for sure. She hasn’t spoken to me in a week.”

“At lease she talks to Tara, so we know she’s alright.”

Ethan was nervous as he walked into the elevator and selected the floor that your mom’s condo was on. He knew your mom and her boyfriend’s work schedule from the times you’d invited him over, so he knew you should be home alone, if you’d even open the door for him.

He stood outside the door and took a deep breath before knocking. After a few minutes of you not answering, he sat the stuff outside of the door, hoping you’d want to talk after you eventually saw it. He went back to the elevator and pressed the button, waiting for it to come back to the floor he was currently on.

Once the door opened, he saw you standing there.

“Ethan? What are you doing here?” you asked, as he stepped to the side for you to walk off the elevator.

“Oh, uh, I just dropped some stuff off for you. It’s in front of the door,” he said shyly, as you smiled at him.

“That’s really sweet, Ethan. I was actually going to call you and ask if you wanted to come over. I just left therapy, and I’m in a good head space right now. I think I’m ready to talk,” you said, reaching over to grab his hand. “It’s a little heavy, and I might not go too far into detail, but I want you to know some of what I went through.”

“I’m here to listen,” he smiled, rubbing his thumb against the top of your hand as you walked towards the door.

“Aww, this is so cute!” you squealed, looking down at the basket before you unlocked the door. You were about to bend down to grab it before he beat you to it. “Thanks, babe.”

You walked with him to your room, noticing the card. You grabbed it out of the basket as soon as he sat it down, but he took it from you before you could open it.

“Hey!” you laughed, trying to take it back from him.

“This card has some things in it that are important, but not as important as you telling me what you need to tell me,” he said, smiling as he sat it back in the basket. “You can read this after we talk, deal?”

“Deal,” you said, flopping back on your bed as he laid down beside you.

You both stared at the ceiling as he waited for you to start talking, but you didn’t know where you wanted to start. You were almost scared of what he’d think after you told him everything, but you knew in your heart that he’d still care about you regardless.

“So…I know I told you about my dad dying. He was killed last year when my ex and the guy she was cheating on me with went on a killing spree,” you said, as he sat up on his elbows to look at you as you spoke. “She killed my dad after she stabbed me. Her boyfriend really did the most damage to me though. I’ve been really self-conscious about all the scars I have. That’s why I stop you whenever things start to get a little handsy.”

He stayed silent for a minute, just soaking in all the information you’d told him. He was furious that anyone would ever hurt you, but he was hiding it well.

“It’s no wonder you’ve been a little hesitant to trust me,” he sighed, looking back at the ceiling. “I’m sorry I walked in on you. I really thought you were done with me after you yelled at me like that and didn’t want to talk to me.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to you, I just wanted to get my feelings and my thoughts together. I knew I needed to open up to you, especially after you saw everything.”

“I just wanted to understand, you know? You’ve just been so vague about everything. I’m happy you’re opening up,” he said, laying back down. “I’m sorry if you ever felt pressure about the sex stuff, too. I promise you that’s not what I was trying to do, and I’d wait forever if I needed to.”

“I don’t think we need to wait forever,” you said, rolling over to your side to look at him. “I’m ready now, actually.”

He curiously looked at you, before he started to shake his head.

“Baby, I want you to fully trust me before we do anything like that.”

“I just gave you the short version of everything that caused my trauma. I trust you,” you said, leaning in to kiss him.

He kissed you back, the sweetness of it making your heart swell, like you knew he was the person you were meant to lose your virginity to. Once the kiss got more intense and your hand started to run under his shirt, he gently pushed your hand away.

“Wait, I need you to read the card,” he said, before you connected your lips to his again.

“Right now?” you asked, pulling away.

“Please. You’ll want to read it before we do this.”

You slid off the side of the bed and walked over to the basket and grabbed the card. Ethan wasn’t nervous at all as you sat down beside him and opened the envelope that contained his true feelings for you. He knew if you were ready for sex and felt comfortable enough to finally tell him about what you’d went through, that you probably felt the same way he did.

“This is really sweet,” you said, reading through everything he wrote. “Wait…”

You turned to look at him after you’d made it to the end of what he wrote, as he smiled at you.

“I love you, babe.”

“Seriously?” was all you said, your eyes starting to water as Ethan suddenly felt like maybe it was a little too soon for him to say it when you didn’t say it back.

“Yeah, it’s how I feel. If you aren’t ready for that-“

You cut him off my kissing him. “I love you, too,” you mumbled against his lips.

He pushed you back on the bed as he smiled down at you.

“You are sure, like one hundred percent sure you want to do this?” he asked, as his hand started to rub your thigh over your jeans.

“I’m positive. I want to do this with you.”

He leaned down to kiss you as his hands just kept rubbing against you. You didn’t feel self-conscious like you had before, and you were excited to share this experience with someone that loved you.

“Is it okay if I take your shirt off of you?” he asked, waiting for you to consent before he did it. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable.

You paused and took a deep breath. “Yes.”

The second your shirt was over your head, you noticed Ethan’s gaze on all your scars. You tried to cover them with your hands before he pulled them away.

“Stop, baby. You’re beautiful,” he said, running his hands across them.

He leaned down to start kissing your neck, his curls tickling you as you started to giggle.

“Am I absolutely awful at this or something?” he asked, as your fingers started to run through his hair.

“No babe, you’re tickling me, but it feels good,” you said, squirming a little underneath him once he found your sweet spot. “It really feels good.” He smirked against you as you started to let out heavy breaths. “I think your shirt should come off, too.”

He pulled away to take his shirt off before he leaned down to kiss you again. Your hands started to run along his back as he melted into your touch.

You leaned up a little as you felt his hands try to snake around you to unhook your bra. He fumbled with it for a minute, making you laugh into the kiss.

“I’ve never done this before,” he said, jokingly glaring at you as you smiled at him. He finally got it unhooked, sliding the straps down your arms as he pulled it off you. “Are you going to laugh at me the whole time?”

“No, babe,” you said, biting your bottom lip to hold in your giggles. You didn’t have to for long though, your mouth falling open as you gasped when he took one of your nipples into your mouth. He alternated between licking and sucking, before he moved to the other side. “That feels so good.”

He pulled away and smiled at you, “If you want to stop at any point, let me know. I’m not going to get mad, I just want you to be okay.”

“Thank you, baby. I know you won’t hurt me,” you smiled, reaching up to run your hand through his hair as his eyes fluttered at the feeling.

He leaned down again with your fingers still tangled in his hair, as he started to place kisses along your stomach. He paid extra attention to your scars, now knowing the dark story of how you got them. You looked down at him as he started to unbutton your jeans.

“I love you, baby.” He said, as he started to pull them down your hips. “Your body is so beautiful. Please don’t ever think that it’s not, okay?”

“Okay,” you sighed, as his hands started to run up your bare thighs.

“Can these come off?” he asked, rubbing your panties along your hips.

“Yes,” you said, as he smiled at you.

“You know I have no idea what I’m doing, so please let me know if anything I do hurts.”

“Ethan,” you sighed, as his eyes connected with yours. “Just do what you think feels right, and I’ll let you know how it feels.”

“Okay, baby,” he said, as his hand ran up your inner thigh, and over your pussy. You whimpered at the feeling, as he kept rubbing you. “Can I taste you, babe?”

“Please,” you said, as he leaned in. His tongue gently licked your clit, as your hand started to run through your hair. “That feels…fuck.”

His mouth started to move faster when your moans got a little louder, loving all the sounds he was pulling from you. His cock was straining against his jeans, but that was the last thing he wanted to focus on. He just wanted to keep making you feel good.

“Can you use your fingers, too?” you asked, your chest heaving as his finger started to brush against your entrance. You gasped when he slid it inside of you, pumping it in and out.

He pulled his mouth away to watch you, “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

You whimpered at his words as his fingers started to curve a little. “Oh shit,” you whined, as he slowed his fingers.

“You okay?” he asked, trying to ready your face, scared that he’d hurt you.

“That felt good, keep doing that,” you said, gasping as his finger moved quicker. “You can use two.”

He added another finger and moved them against that spot as he leaned down to focus on your clit with his mouth.

“Fuck, a little faster, baby,” you moaned, feeling that coil in the pit of your stomach getting tighter.

He did as you said, before he switched from licking your clit to sucking on it.

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, your legs starting to jolt. He gasped as your pussy started to contract around his fingers. He didn’t want to stop his actions too quickly, so he just kept going until you started to pull away. You were letting out shaky breaths as he sat up to look at you, the blissful expression on your face making him smile.

“Did that feel good?” he asked, as you smiled and nodded with your eyes closed.

“That was perfect, babe.”

He curled up on the bed beside you, caressing everywhere he could reach as he waited for you to tell him it was okay to go further. He noticed the gasp that slipped past your lips when his hand ran over one of your breasts, so he started to massage it.

“Baby, I’m not trying to rush you, but my mom will be home soon,” you said, smiling at him. “I really don’t want this to get interrupted.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, sliding off the side of the bed to take his jeans off. You giggled at him as he smiled at you. “Sorry, I’ve been hard for so long.”

“It’s okay, babe. I love that you’re so excited,” you said, as he nodded.

“Yeah, I’m excited to experience this with the person that means the world to me,” he said, as he grabbed a condom out of his wallet before he slid his boxers down. He was mumbling something to you, but you couldn’t focus as you stared at him, starting to get a little anxious. “Did you hear what I said?” he asked, as you shook your head. “I was just reminding you that if it’s too much, let me know.”

As he stood in front of you, you started to question if it would be too much. He opened the condom and rolled it on before he crawled back on the bed to hover over you.

“Can you go slow?” you asked, as he lined up with your entrance.

“Of course, baby. As slow as you want,” he assured you, as he started to push himself inside of you. He noticed you wincing at the pain, and even tensing up a little. He stilled, looking over your face. “Try to relax, baby.”

He didn’t move, he just waited for you to give him the okay. He leaned down to kiss you, as the pain started to ease.

“Keep going,” you said, as he slid in a little further. You tensed up again, so he just kept kissing you. He wanted you to know that this wasn’t just about him enjoying the experience. He wanted to take care of you. It was starting to get to the point where the pressure of him stretching you started to feel really good. “Can you move?” you mumbled against his lips.

“Uh, I’m almost all the way in…are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, as your lust-filled eyes looked into his.

“It’s not really hurting anymore,” you said, as he started to smile. He slid the rest of himself inside of you, a soft moan slipping past your lips. His hips slowly started to move as he looked down at you. He was internally screaming but was trying to play it as cool as you were. “Can you go a little faster?”

“Yes,” he said, but it really came out as a whimper as he started to move a little faster. You were just so warm and tight. It was better than he ever thought it would be. “You feel so fucking good.”

“So do you,” you moaned, as the tip of his cock started to hit the spongy spot inside you. “Fuck, Ethan,” you whimpered, as your hand reached down to rub circles on your clit.

“I love you so much, baby,” he whined out, as he started to go even faster. He didn’t know if it was going to be too much for you to handle, but the way you started to moan helped ease the anxiety he had about it.

“I love you, too,” you whimpered, feeling your second orgasm creeping up.

He started to get even more confident, angling your legs so he was able to go a little deeper. Your hands held on to his biceps as he looked down at you. He was trying so hard not cum, but the expressions on your face and the sounds you were making made it a lot harder for him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, as he sighed in relief, knowing he didn’t have to hold back much longer. He groaned out the second your walls started to tighten around him, your hands shaking as the grip you had on his arms got tighter. He got you though it, speeding up a little as he chased his own orgasm.

His thrusts started to falter as his mouth fell open and his eyes began to flutter. You watched him though your post-orgasm haze, smiling as he opened his eyes to look at you. His chest was heaving, a goofy smile on his lips.

“That was a million times better than my hand,” he joked, making you laugh.

“It better be,” you said playfully, as you heard the front door open. “Shit.”

You and Ethan both jumped off your bed, your legs wobbly as you tried to find your clothes. You slid your panties back on as Ethan got his boxers and jeans back on. The second you got your shirt over your head, your bedroom door opened.

“Hey, there’s some people out here to see you,” your mom said, looking down at her phone as she walked into your room.

“Uh, mom,” you said, as she looked up at you.

“What the fuck is going on here?” she asked, noticing you without pants, Ethan shirtless, and the condom wrapper on your bedside table.

“Can we talk about this in a minute?” you asked, desperate for her to leave the room so you could finish getting dressed.

She huffed as she walked out, slamming the door behind her. Once you got your jeans back on, you heard your mom yell “I’ll kill him,” as Ethan looked over to you, terrified. You giggled as he slid his shirt over his head.

“It’s okay, babe. Hopefully Brooks will back me up,” you joked, as the both of you walked towards the door.

Your mom walking in was embarrassing enough, but when you walked out to see all the friends you hadn’t seen for a week sitting on the couch curiously looking at you and Ethan, your cheeks started to turn red.

“Oh, uh, hey guys. What are you doing here?” you asked, as Mindy pointed to the take-out bags on the kitchen island.

“Yeah, we wanted to surprise you and bring you food,” Chad said, before directing hit attention to Ethan. “I tried to text you a few times to invite you to come with us, but I understand why you didn’t respond.”

Ethan awkwardly laughed, before he noticed your mom glaring at him from the kitchen.

“Babe,” Brooks said, walking up beside her. “It’s okay.”

“You think me coming home to see my daughter and her boyfriend trying to put their clothes back on is okay?”

Mindy was trying to hold in her laughter, Chad was, too.

“Can’t we all just be happy that I trust Ethan, and finally told him everything?” you said, trying to play it off as a joke as your mom rolled her eyes.

“That’s a good point,” Brooks said, “That’s something she wasn’t able to do before.”

“Are you just going to back her up on everything?” your mom sighed, looking up at him.

“I just want you to see the positives,” he said, before gesturing over to Ethan. “He’s a good kid. He cares about her.”

“I really do,” Ethan said, finally speaking up.

“See? I know you’re still going to worry about her, but let her be happy,” Brooks said, as your mom started to walk over to you.

“You are going on birth control. And you,” she said, turning to Ethan, “If you hurt my daughter, I’ll kill you.”

“I won’t hurt her,” Ethan said, as she stared him down.

“You better not. Let’s eat before the food get’s cold.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #smut

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poquiii · 1 year

Text

König x reader / Ghost x reader Headcanons

They are like fathers.

König

● König grew up in an incomplete family, but he still knows what it is to love.

● But he will never get used to how tiny children are.

● The first time he sees your baby, he can't pick them up. He was so afraid of hurting them.

● König walked around your bed for a long time, looking at the little lump in your hands.

● You insisted that he take them in his hands and he sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, watching you put them in his huge, rough and scarred hands.

● Since then, he has made it his goal to be the best dad ever, to make you and your children proud of him.

● He will learn to cook well. He will tell the baby's breakfast so he doesn't have to do it for you.

● If you have a daughter, he won't be afraid to look silly when your daughter wants to paint his nails with pink nail polish.

● He will also learn how to braid her hair.

● He doesn't think it's anything shameful to play dolls with her and make Troop 141 drink tea with her and her teddy bear. (He doesn't fit at her little table, so he sits on the floor, bent in half.)

● He will always treat her like a princess and fend off her suitors.

● He won't have to try particularly hard, all he has to do is stand next to her when he picks her up from school and everyone will go around them.

● If you have a son, Koenig will do everything he wanted from his father when he wasn't around when he was growing up.

● He will teach him how to play soccer, fight, and handle a knife (which you don't approve of, by the way. But he'll just put his head down and mumble awkwardly about self-defense. However, if you don't take pity, he'll back off and teach your son to defend himself with his fists instead)

● He will gladly buy them a dog and train them as the best defense for his child.

● He will carry them on his shoulders and toss them in the air, enjoying the children's laughter.

● He does not want his children to know what he is doing. He avoids these conversations at family dinner in every way possible, asking you and your children more about their day.

● He likes to take his family on picnics and trips to the amusement park.

● He will in all seriousness cry over Disney cartoons when a child asks to watch it with him. (”Coco” broke him.)

● He will always try.

● And he is ready to protect all of you from any danger at the cost of his own life.

Ghost.

● He didn't want this baby.

● That phrase he threw out in a panic made your heart freeze in your chest and your hands clutch at your stomach.

● He immediately started making excuses: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean- Fuck! I didn't-"

● He'll spend a long time trying to explain to you that he's just afraid.

● He's afraid of being a bad father.

● He's barely learned to show his love for you and he's afraid of hurting you, of hurting you.

● Even more so, he was afraid for a defenseless little creature.

● His child. It took him a long time to come to terms with the thought.

● But when he held the little bundle in his hands and your child's little hands reached out to him, something clicked in his chest.

● He would kill for them.

● He would die for them.

● He will do anything for them. Just like he did for you.

● He'll learn how to change diapers, swaddle the baby, make applesauce, and move around even more quietly than before so he doesn't wake them or you.

● After all, he knows how tired you are.

● He didn't wear a balaclava at home. He understood that the child was afraid of it.

● For a while he thought he was naked with his face open. But first you started kissing his cheeks every time you ran into him in the hallway of your house, and then the baby started touching his face with his little fingers and smiling.

● And for the first time, he felt comfortable without Ghost. It was just Simon Riley.

● If you have a daughter, he won't be a soft dad. On the contrary. He'll teach her to fight better than any boy. He'll do anything to keep his beautiful, beautiful girl safe.

● And yes, he's the kind of father who demonstratively cleans his gun in front of his daughter's boyfriend when he walks her out on her first date.

● If you have a son, Ghost will treat him like a little warrior. "You have to protect mommy while I'm gone."

● Your son will be a copy of his father in both appearance and personality. He'll even steal Ghost masks from your closet and sneak them on to show he's as tough as Daddy.

● Ghost never objects. and always strokes his son's head affectionately.

● In fact, he's afraid his son will find out the truth about his father and hate him.

● The ghost doesn't want to be what he used to be. He wants to be the best version of himself for his family.

● And every time you smile at him affectionately while he does your children's homework, you kiss him affectionately on the forehead, he knows he's doing the right thing.

● He will never yell at his children, never hit them or punish them harshly.

● He wants the best for them and knows he can't protect them from everything, so he tries to teach them everything he knows. To prepare them for hardships and make them strong both physically and mentally.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost #konig #konig headcanons #ghost headcanons #konig x reader #könig #könig x reader #könig x you #könig mw2 #call of duty x reader #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader

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purple-writer8 · 5 days

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Suburban Legends - ACOTAR

Azriel x Winter Court Reader

“When you hold me, it holds me together.”

warnings: unrequited love, pining, evil thoughts, intrusive thoughts, lesser fae thinks shes not enough, hating on girl, self doubt, self loathing, reader is a handful, ice powers, groping, lesser fae slander

1.7k words

Part Two to Heather

Masterlist :)

He kissed you. Azriel kissed you. And then you winnowed away, because he kissed you in a way that you knew would screw you up forever. Because Azriel could never love you. You were not soft like Elain, were not some soft baker with beautiful High Fae features.

No. You were just a winterling. A lesser fae that iced everything around her. You paced the House of Wind, paced and paced through the entire manor— scared out of your mind of seeing Azriel again. Why would he kiss you?

Your mind raced and raced and raced.

Azriel deserved someone better than you, he deserved Elain. Not some winterling that got jealous because of a sweater, jealous and you two weren’t even together. Oh, you were so embarrassed— you wanted to die. You got a quick snack in the kitchen, thanking the house for it, and then you rushed up to your room.

Cauldron, you would die of embarrassment if you saw Azriel.

The way that he kissed you, it killed you, because you knew that you were doomed. How were you supposed to live now that you had tasted him? He had kissed you out of pity, you were sure. Or maybe he just didn’t know what to do.

As you ate your chips and dip, you noticed a shadow slithering underneath your door. You ignored it. He probably just wanted to know if you were freaking out or something.

You heard footsteps outside your door and froze when they stopped in front of it. You whispered a curse when your plate with your snack turned to ice, you really had to start controlling your powers.

A knock sounded against the wood of your door, and you wanted to die. You could feel the ice appearing through your body, invading your skin as it did whenever you were in distress— a winterling defense mechanism. You remained silent, unmoving, and after not answering the door for minutes, the shadow and it’s singer left— footsteps disappearing down the hall.

You were tempted to run out of your room and go after him but you were never going to do that. You would die of embarrassment if Azriel simply rejected you, telling you that he only kissed you because he felt bad.

Azriel knocked on your door every night for an entire week, maybe to reject you, or maybe to send you on a mission. You were not sure, but you had barricaded yourself in your room. If you were needed for a mission, Rhysand would reach you, you were sure. Your room had turned into a winter wonderland, your anxiety making your ice powers almost uncontrollable— and frankly unbearable. You were sure you had frost bite by now.

A knock sounded to your door, and instantly you turned to it, watching for the shadow that would always check on you when Azriel came. But no shadow appeared. “Darling? It’s me.”

Surely you could die from embarrassment when you heard the High Lord outside your door. You whimpered when more ice manifested from your fingertips, it fucking hurt and you were sure your fingers could be thawed off your hands any moment now.

Dark majestic talons caressed your mind, and you were tempted to let them in— but instead reinforced the walls that kept Rhysand out, because how fucking embarrassing is it to let your High Lord see how you’ve iced your entire room just because a guy doesn’t want you.

You are supposed to be better than that. But you weren’t.

“Open the door,” the High Lord ordered, and you complied.

His violet eyes widened when he took in the state of your room. “I… What… I… Ice.” Was all he managed to say as he stepped into the room, shivering as the cold hit him.

You smiled awkwardly, unnaturally, “hey.”

“So when Cassian said you turned his room into ice… he meant this?” Rhysand asked and you nodded, awkwardly shifting your weight on your feet. His eyes took in your form and you almost covered your face, but you didn’t. Because the one person who knew all your flaws and ugliness was your High Lord, and he accepted you that way.

It wasn’t a pretty sight when you lost control. As a winterling lesser, the powers that you had were all ice ones. You could wield ice from your fingertips, and when distress happened upon your body— ice bloomed through your flesh, because your blood turned cold. You weren’t good at controlling them; so when anxiety hit you, your veins turned black and you froze everything around you.

Every vein in your body was noticeable, your eyes were white, and you were covered in ice.

Rhysand was probably disgusted by you.

“Azriel says you’ve been cooped up here since game night. Says you won’t open the door for him.” Rhysand stated as he looked around your room, blinking slowly as he took in all of your belongings being frozen.

“For him. But I opened the door for you,” you answered sheepishly.

“He let me know what happened… that night when he went to get you outside… I…” You put your hand up when he said those words.

“I know. I know. He doesn’t like me. I was stupid to complain about a sweater. I mean, my audacity, right?” You laughed dryly. Rhysand frowned, eyeing you— then eyeing your room.

With a snap of his fingers, your room was back to normal. “We’re going out to Rita’s tonight, join us,” Rhysand stated simply, and you were about to decline, but his stern gaze told you that it was a command— not a suggestion.

“I would much rather stay in,” you try anyways. Rhysand shakes his head. “So you could drown in ice and self pity? Get a grip, darling.”

You don’t admit that it hurts. It was not self pity, it was self hate, loathing. You ultimately nod, because you know he is not gonna let you just wallow in your sadness even though it’s all that you want. “Talk to him,” Rhysand said before winnowing away.

You scoffed at nothing. Absolutely not. If he rejected you, which you were sure he would, it would cause you more self hate than you could ever deal with.

You got ready that night in your usual attire. Glittering gowns with diamonds that resembled little snowflakes, reminiscent of your origins. You would look at the clock as you did your hair, and when ten pm rolled around and Azriel did not knock like every other night that week— your whole life was ruined.

At eleven you called for Rhysand in your mind so he could take you down to Rita’s and that he did, though the flight was silent. You were not very fond of him ordering you to hang out when you were miserable.

At Rita’s, you wanted to die.

Azriel was there, sitting silently next to Elain. And instantly your evil mind was hoping she got poisoned by the cocktail she was gently and elegantly sipping.

You truly were unlovable and unlikeable, huh?

You could feel those hazel eyes on you, though no shadows came to greet you. You did not dare meet his gaze because you were sure you would hurl ice all over the floor, so you rushed to find your High Lady and Mor who were chatting by the bar.

They greeted you happily, chatting you up over things you could care less about— because how could you focus when you could see everyone fawning over the shadowsinger in your peripheral vision. He was so magnetic to every fae that it was almost obnoxious.

Feyre started talking about the mating bond with Mor, indulging her in a debate about whether all mates were meant to be. All you could do was fantasize about you and Azriel, mismatched as you may be, surprising the whole court by being mates.

A fae can dream.

A male appeared out of the blue— a handsome male— and he asked you to dance. You indulged him. It was better than standing there pretending to care about Feyre and Mor’s conversation. You loved them, but your mind was elsewhere.

The male danced to the music, swaying along with you, his eyes focused on your white ones. “Shit… I can imagine you sucking my cock with those looking up at me… a perfect lesser fuck,” you gasped at his lewd words because, what the fuck?!

Your heart thudded and you smelled danger, so you gave him an awkward smile and stepped back from him, only for him to snake one strong arm around your waist, tugging you close. “I-Uh, have to go,” you chuckled nervously, looking around for your friends, though the sea of people dancing made it near impossible for you to see their usual booth.

“What does a little lesser like you have to do that is better than being with me?” He asked, leaning down to your ear, an act that sent shivers down your spine. Fear. Which was stupid because you were a spy for the Night Court, you could handle him.

Before you could even snap at him, his hand groped your behind, causing you to gasp and push him away— but in that moment he was stronger, so he tugged you right back to his bulky body. “Who do you think you are?” You scoffed at him, a snarl on your face.

“I’m taking you home tonight, lesser.”

“Over my dead body.” The man stumbled backwards as he looked over your shoulder, to the shadowsinger that had appeared between the crowd. Every fae in the room turned to look at Azriel, at the icy rage that surfaced on his perfect face. He parted the crowd as he stood there, his wings tucked tight as he glared at the High Fae that had been harassing you.

A comforting shadow slinked to you, wrapping around your icy wrist gently. Its gentleness was a stark contrast to the sheer anger it’s master exuded from his being.

“Fuck… I didn’t know… didn’t know she was yours, shadowsinger.”

“Now you know not to fucking touch my mate.”

Author’s Note:

this definitely needs a part three i know

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