#will help close this year and begin the next one
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Something Wicked This Way Comes
A Rafe Cameron Oneshot
[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]
WC: 13.3k
Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics
OONA'S MASTERLIST
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all AI images are created from prompts i wrote. they are not real images.
Summary: Five years after escaping the cluthes of her violent ex, reader is preparing to spend Halloween night alongside her son, but she wakes that morning feeling something amiss...
it's Halloween, after all, & things are bound to give her a fright, even if it is her past catching up for a bite.
READERS, PREPARE YOURSELVES. I GIVE YOU...THE DARKEST FIC I'VE EVER WRITTEN.
It was like any other day. Except it wasn’t. From the moment you woke up, something was off. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was a tense sensation in the air around you. It left you feeling on edge all day, but you had summed it up to be your paranoia & anxiety kicking in because it was Halloween night. After all, it was a night of spooky scares.
What didn’t help relieve your unsettled nerves, was the fact that you had woken up late. It was a little past 7:30 in the morning when you finally rolled over to see the time. The red lights flashing at you on your alarm clock shocked you awake, causing you to stumble out of bed.
“Shit!” You hissed as you raced to your closet to pull out your outfit for the day.
“Louie!” You yelled from your bedroom, listening for any sign of your son being awake. When you didn’t get a response you tripped into the hallway as you struggled to throw your dress on over your head. You were relieved you showered before bed, otherwise you would have dreaded going to work without one.
“Lou?!” You hollered again as you stumbled into his bedroom.
His bed was empty & unmade. You cursed again, knowing exactly where you’d find him next. Leaving his room, you succeeded in getting your dress on & tying the bow in the back before entering the living room. As expected, your son was on his stomach, his bent arms holding his head up as he watched cartoons. You spotted the bag of opened candy on the floor before him.
“Lou…” You sped-walk towards him as he kicked his feet.
He smiled up at you, that sweet innocent smile of his you loved so much.
“You overslept again, Mommy.” He pointed out.
You feigned surprise, “You don’t say. Maybe someone should have woken me up."
Bending at the waist, you picked your son up, cradling him on your hip as you searched for the remote to shut off the TV. Lou rested his on your shoulder, his fingers tangling into your hair as he rubbed the strands between his fingers.
“You were crying in your sleep again last night.” Lou revealed, making your heart stop. “I didn’t want to wake you up since you weren’t crying anymore.”
“Oh, hon.” You paused in the hallway to placed him on the ground, kneeling down to be eye-level with him, “I’m sorry you had to hear that again.”
Ever since you left your hometown, or rather ran away from there, you had the same nightmare. In the beginning they happened every single night, but now, almost six years later, they were few & far between. But it was Louie who suffered the most from them. You didn’t realize you were still having him until he was older & started talking. You remembered when he lied next to you in bed one morning, asking why you cried in your sleep. You never had any memories of the nightmares. But Louie remembered them for you.
“Was the bad man in your dream trying to hurt you again?” Lou bit his lip, a small bout of fear appearing in his eyes.
You tugged him into you, holding him tight against your chest as you hugged him, “All that matters is that it was just a dream.”
Lou wrapped his tiny arms over your shoulders, his hands never leaving your hair. That had been a comfort mechanism of his ever since he was an infant.
“I wish he would visit my dreams.” Lou shared softly, to which you gently pulled him away from you to stare at him bewildered.
“Baby, why would you want that?”
He lowered his eyes, “So you could sleep.”
Releasing a saddened sigh, you ran your fingers through his hair, “Mommy is fine, okay? You keep dreaming your excellent, beautiful dreams. One of us has to, right?”
Lou nodded at that but he wasn’t smiling.
Wanting to lighten the mood, you gathered his hands in yours, “I tell you what, you hurry up & go get dressed while Mommy finishes getting ready & we’ll take the long way to school so you can see the kitties, yeah?”
Louie beamed at that, “Really?!”
“Yes, really.” You kissed his forehead before standing up, “Now, hurry! We’re late as it is.”
Lou took off for his bedroom, cheers of joy left in his wake. You smiled after him before re-entering your bedroom. You closed the door behind you, resting against it momentarily as an old memory flashed before you.
You couldn’t breathe, one of his hands wrapped securely around your throat as he fucked himself into you. His pleased groans filled your ears, forcing more tears from your eyes. A chilled shiver shot up your spin when you felt his lips kiss the tops of your breasts where his teeth marks remained. The weight of his body crushed against yours & you had never felt more trapped.
“Mom!” Lou yelled from down the hallway, making you jump, “Can I wear my costume to school?!”
“Yes, baby!” You hollered back, hearing the unevenness in your voice. Shaking away the awful sensations of that memory, you finished getting ready for work.
Lou skipped ahead of you as you walked down the main street of your small town. You had moved here shortly after Louie was born, wanting him to live in a family town that had a good school system. More importantly, it was a close-knit community. Almost everyone knew everyone. That worked in your favor & made you feel safe. It meant that if anyone new ever moved to town you would know about it. Your neighbors were your last line of defense against the man you escaped from over five years ago.
“Look, Mommy, look!” Lou paused in front of the display window the cat adoption café. He had his face pressed against the glass, his ghoul makeup smearing as he did so. You laughed to yourself, knowing you would just have to re-do his makeup again before going into class with all the other ghosts & witches.
“Wow.” You mused along with your son as he meowed at the cats chasing his finger on the other side of the glass. Lou had been asking for a cat for his birthday ever since he was three years old. Whenever he saw one on the street or in a neighbor’s window, he would race towards it at lay on the ground with it as the feline in question would rub along his face & body, making him as one of their own.
But you always had to say no. A cat, or pet of any kind, would slow you down in the event you had to run again. There had never been a peep or warning from your few trusted friends back home, but you couldn’t risk it. You couldn’t live with yourself if you had to escape from your home with Lou at a moment’s notice, him crying over your shoulder as he begged for you to get his pet.
And that made you furious. That you couldn’t give your son something he truly wanted & loved because you had to be ready for when your past caught up to you.
As Lou continued aweing at the kittens behind the glass, you raised your head to peer inside the café. The elderly woman that was always there waved at you through the glass & you waved back. But as you did, you spotted another in the glass. Only they weren’t on the other side, but in the reflection. And they looked a lot like…
A panicked gasp escaped you as you spun around, staring wide-eyed across the street. But no one was there. Your heart was racing as you looked down the street every which way. But all you saw were other townspeople going about their Friday morning.
It’s in your head, _____. You calmed yourself. He’s not here. It wasn’t him. It’s just your paranoia.
Inhaling sharply, you stole Lou’s attention, grabbing his wrist softly, “C’mon, honey, we gotta go.”
Louie allowed you to drag him away from the kitty café, his arm outstretched in longing.
You saw Lou off to his kindergarten classroom before speed-walking down the hallway to the main office. It was a massive relief to you that you managed to land a job in an administrative position at Lou’s school before he even started. Before that you were waitressing while taking online classes at the local community college, & once you got your degree in business administration, you scored a front office desk job at the only elementary school in town. All you needed was to be close to Lou because you never knew when you’d have to snatch him & run.
“Hey, Miriam.” You greeted breathlessly as you raced into the office, tossing your purse on the floor under your desk.
“Hey, you.” She eyed you mischievously.
Miriam was well beyond her retirement period, but Principle Bentley couldn’t get rid of her if he tried. And tried he had. But it was all in good fun. Miriam was a staple of the school & the town itself. She was known as a hard ass but also a gossip queen. She always had all the tea o what was happening in the sleepy Northeastern town. It made your mostly mundane days more enjoyable.
“Overslept again, I see.”
“Yeah.” You sighed as you turned your computer on, “Don’t know what’s going on lately.”
“Something’s in the air.” She commented, echoing your silent thoughts from earlier that morning. “You should relax, though, hon. You’re always wound so tight.”
You raised your brows in agreement as you pulled up your morning duties, “Easier said than done.”
Miriam chuckled at that. The door behind your respective desks opened & Principle Bentley stepped out.
“Morning, ladies.” He greeted as he approached the coffee maker in the corner of the office.
“Morning, Nicholas.” Miriam didn’t care for referring to him by his career name, after all, she did babysit him when he was only a child.
“Morning, Principle Bentley.” You greeted him, to which he smirked sweetly.
“How many times do I gotta tell you, _____, call me Nick.”
Principle Bentley was young for his job. Thirty one, to be exact, & he was a well-known bachelor in the community. He was easy on the eyes, with dark brown eyes reminiscent of a puppy, & dimples that only added to his boyish charm. But he was your boss. And despite his mild flirtatious advances, you only treated him as such.
If you couldn’t indulge your son by getting him a cat, you sure as shit couldn’t indulge yourself with a romantic partner. It was out of the question. Perhaps one day, when Louie was older & out of the house, but until then, you kept your mind distraction free.
“And how many times do I have to tell you, you’re my boss.” You reminded him back, though your tone was friendly.
Principle Bentley chuckled at that before pouring himself a mug of coffee, “What’s on the agenda for today?”
You glanced back at your computer, knowing Miriam really only showed up to get paid & gabber with the mom’s & dad’s that came in to pick up their children.
“There’s an assembly just before lunch, the usual ‘stay safe out there on Halloween night’ spiel followed by some games the teachers put together. And then during final hour the kids will be going from class to class as a precursor to their trick-or-treating.”
He nodded in response, “Sounds like a normal day.”
You smiled, “Pretty much.”
“Alright, well, I trust you two to hold down the fort out here while I make some calls.” He began walking towards his office before stopping in the doorway, “_____?”
“Yes?” You spun around in your chair to face him.
“Before the assembly, I’d like to speak with you.”
“O-okay.” You fumbled, your fingers clenching together.
“It’s nothing bad. Just something I wanted to run past you.”
“Of course.” You nodded sheepishly. Then he closed his door.
Turning back to your computer, you rolled your shoulders, having felt them stiffen at his proposal to talk one-on-one.
“Why is it they always say, ‘it’s nothing bad’, when it is indeed something bad?” You murmured out loud, not truly expecting an answer.
“Nick?” Miriam chuckled, “Boy couldn’t hurt a fly even if he tried. You’re not in trouble dear. If I had to guess…”
You rolled your eyes, recognizing that suggestive tone of your voice very well.
“Nick is finally going to put his big boy pants on & ask you on a date.”
You scoffed at that, facing her wide-eyed, “Miriam! He is not going to ask me on a date. He’s my boss!”
“Oh, pish, posh.” Miriam waved your dismissal away, “I met my husband working for him. It still happens.”
“No.” You chuckled, focusing on your computer as you read emails, “Not that. Besides, I already have a man in my life.”
“Your son, as cute as he is, doesn’t count.” Miriam told you bluntly.
“Yeah, yeah.” You waved her away before sarcastically responding, “Now, shut up. I have very important emails to get back to.”
Miriam left twenty minutes early for the assembly, leaving you to finish off your morning duties alone in the office. There was still five minutes to spare before the assembly started so you put your computer in sleep mode then stood up to head to Principle Bentley’s office.
Knocking gently, you waited until you heard the familiar sound of his voice, telling you to come in.
“_____!” He grinned, rising from his chair, “Please, take a seat.”
Despite what Miriam teased you about earlier, you still felt nervous. Though she was right about Principle Bentley being a good guy, you still felt like you had done something wrong.
“So, is this about my being late?” You questioned, your brows creasing.
“You were late?” He replied, clearly only hearing about it now.
“Oh…yeah.” You sighed, “I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again, I prom—”
“_____, it’s okay. You’re not in trouble. Miriam bails on her duties all the time & have I spoken to her about it?”
“Well, no, but it’s Miriam. No one really wants to cross her.” You joked, trying to lighten the anxiety bubbling in your chest.
“Sure, sure.” He nodded in agreement, “Look, I don’t mind if you’re late. You could be two hours late & it’d be fine. I mean, what are you gonna miss, signing kids in & out? It’s fine, really.”
“Okay.” You felt yourself relax, “If you say so.”
“I do.” He chuckled.
“So, what is that you wanted to discuss?”
Principle Bentley sucked his teeth in awkwardly before finally leaning forward on his desk, his elbows resting there with his hands raised, “I know it’s a long shot, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in getting lunch together today.”
“Oh.” You felt your smile drop. Oh. Miriam had been right.
“No pressure, either!” He rushed out, “I know how weird it’s gotta be having your boss ask you out but I don’t know, figured I’d at least try.”
“Yeah.” You chuckled awkwardly before gathering your thoughts, “The offer is nice, Nick. But—”
“Nick?” He asked incredulously but was smiling nonetheless, “Using my name? I know what that means.”
He was letting you let him down easily & you were grateful towards him for it.
“But I’m going to have to decline.”
“I understand.” He nodded, never losing his boyish smile.
“Ya know, in a perfect world, I—” You stopped yourself, unsure if you really wanted to say what you were about to say, but the look on Nick’s face encouraged you to keep going.
“In a perfect world, I’d say yes.” You admitted. Nick was a good guy. He always took care of you & Miriam. Plus he enjoyed working with the kids & all parents sung his praises. Nick Bentley was a good guy, & he’d be an excellent father. Truly, that was something you wish you could have given Lou, a father, but with your past still terrorizing you in your sleep, it just wasn’t possible.
“And what is a perfect world?” Nick asked, his voice soft.
You sighed, biting your lower lip in thought. “I love being a mother. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”
For some odd reason, you were ready to tell someone your life story, or at least the nicer parts about it. Something indeed was in the air.
“But I had Lou when I was young, too young. I was nineteen. I wasn’t ready… & ya know, Lou’s father…” You inhaled sharply as those startling blue eyes of your ex flashed through your mind. “Let’s just say he wasn’t a good guy. I’m just not ready for another relationship. Or dating, even. I just want to focus on being a good mother to Lou.”
Nick eyed you with admiration in his eyes. He nodded in understanding, “Your son is very lucky to have you. I hope you know that.”
The praise made your heart falter with elation. Because you ran away from your hometown, & couldn’t risk your ex finding you, you were forced to cut off all communication with friends & family. No one had even met your son. Not your parents, not your best friend, no one. It was another aspect of your life that you were furious about. That Lou was forced to only call you family when he had so many more people out there who would love him just as much as you did. But to protect him most of all, you had to stay hidden. So, hearing those words from Nick made your heart swell.
“Thank you for saying that.” You replied almost inaudibly.
“Thank you for being transparent.” Nick responded in kind, “I can’t imagine it was easy to share.”
“No.” You chuckled openly, “It wasn’t. At all.”
“Well,” Nick stood from his chair, gesturing towards the door, “walk with me to the assembly?”
You laughed & clapped your hands as kids all over the gymnasium ran amok, your ghoulish son among them. After the usual ‘stay safe’ portion of the assembly, the kids were free to go around to booths the teachers had put together in the spirit of Halloween night. You took to the wall, your eyes following your son as he ran around with his friends, chasing one of the 3rd grade teachers dressed a ghost, playing a game they called ‘ghost hunters’.
Nick was in the midst of it all, getting tangled up with the kids as they either wrapped themselves around his legs or tried climbing his black. You hid your smile behind your hand as you watched on.
On the bleachers to your right was Miriam & a few other female staff members. They all appeared to be reacting in shock to something Miriam was saying. You were curious to what tea she was spilling so you found yourself joining them.
“Why the shocked faces?” You asked. One of the first grade teachers, Isabella, handed you a Styrofoam cup of hot apple cider. You accepted it gratefully.
“You haven’t heard?!” Sophia, one of the student teacher’s, turned to you in shock, “Someone broke into George Acosta’s barn last night & stole that ancient Chevy truck he’s been working on for ages.”
You frowned at that. You knew the truck well, everyone did. But only because it made these awful metal, grinding sound as it ambled down the roads throughout town. You could hear it from two blocks away most times as it backfired, alerting anyone in the vicinity that good old Mr. Acosta was out & about.
“I’m telling ya.” Isabella commented, “Whoever stole it has to be from out of town. No one is idiotic enough to steal from George. Remember when he threatened Sheriff Kaufman with a loaded shot gun just for pulling over a reckless driving teen on his property last year? Even the Sheriff was apologizing profusely to him.”
The women cackled amongst themselves but you weren’t laughing. The strange occurrence & Isabella’s theory about it being an out of towner made your stomach shift into knots.
It not him. It can’t be. Someone would’ve contacted you if he got wind of where you were. It was just a random crime, _____. It’s not him. You’re okay. Lou is okay. Calm down. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Ex—
“_____? My god, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Isabella placed a hand on your upper back in comfort.
You nodded shakily but stood up, “I’m alright. Just feeling sick all of a sudden.”
“You don’t look good, hon.” Miriam added, peering at you with concern.
“I’ll be fine.” You assured them, “I just need to use the restroom really quick.”
Everything was okay. It was just your paranoia, you knew that, but you couldn’t deny how ever since this morning you felt like something awful was coming. But you reminded yourself that it wouldn’t be the first time you felt that way & ended up realizing eventually that it was just your nerves & traumatic responses acting up.
“Nick.” You approached him as he assisted with the gym teacher in replacing a skeleton pinata with a pumpkin one.
“Hey!” He greeted jovially but frowned when he took in your state, “Whoa, you alright?”
“I’m not feeling well, all of a sudden. I don’t know what’s happening but—”
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He clambered down the ladder he had been on to gently grip your upper arms, “What do you need?”
“I know I was late this morning but would it be alright if I went home for the day? I just, I don’t want to get the kids sick if it’s something contagious.”
You were lying through your teeth, something you had gotten really good at, but it was for the right reason.
“Yeah, of course, of course. Is there anything I can do?”
Your eyes searched out Lou as he gathered around one of the teachers dressed as a warlock, listening intently to a story he was reading from a book.
“Yes, but it’s too much to ask for.”
“Hey.” Nick smiled kindly at you, “There’s no such thing, what is it?”
“Would you mind bringing Lou home after school? Normally I’d take him with me but he’s having too much fun & I don’t want to ruin his day. Plus, I have no car to pick him up & I don’t want him walking home from school alone.”
“Of course, yeah, I can do that, it’ll be no problem.” He nodded.
It took a long time getting comfortable about Lou being alone with anyone who wasn’t you, but after living in the close-knit community as long as you did, you knew that Louie would be in safe hands with whomever you left him with.
“Thank you, seriously, thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He stood up straight but remained watching you with concern, “What about you though? Do you need a ride home?”
“No.” You mustered a grateful smile, waving away his offer, “I’ll be okay. I just need to get home & take a cold shower or something.”
“Okay, yeah. Will you call me when you get there? Let me know you’re alive & what not.”
The two of you shared a laugh but you nodded, “Of course.”
“Alright. I’ll bring him back straight after school. You focus on feeling better.”
“Thank you, Nick.”
He gripped your shoulder in comfort before you parted from him to approach Louie. He was still listening to the warlock’s story when you appeared behind him.
“Hey, baby. Mommy’s not feeling well so I’m going home. Principle Bentley said he’d bring you home after school, okay?”
He spun around towards you, his youthful face frowning as he peered up at you, “Are you okay, Mommy?”
“Yeah, I’m okay, I just feel sick, that’s all.”
“Is it your dreams?”
“No.” You shook your head rapidly, cupping his cheek, “I just need to lie down for a while.”
“Okay.” He gave you that soft smile of his you adored so much.
“Mommy loves you.” You hugged him, kissing him three times on the crown of his head, “I’ll see you later, alright?”
“Bye, Mommy.”
“Bye, baby.”
After seeking out Lou’s teacher & asking her to walk him to the office at the end of the school day so Nick could drive him home, you were finally able to leave work. Fortunately, you only lived five blocks away, so you would be home in no time to get your head together. You hated lying to your coworkers, more so, your son, but you needed to get home to ensure that everything was still ready to go in case you & Lou had to run. Never in the five years that you had lived in your town had you ever had a nasty feeling like you did today. And although you knew it was likely just the eeriness of Halloween mixed with your paranoia, you chose to be safe rather than sorry.
But as you strolled home, your cardigan wrapped snugly around your front, you couldn’t help as your mind strayed to the past.
You were in love, maddeningly so. He was everything you could have dreamed of. And the way he looked at you always had you feeling like a schoolgirl with a silly crush. You could never have imagined that you would have found your prince. And that’s just what he was. He was your prince charming & you were his darling princess.
The two of you were inseparable. The honeymoon phase meant something new with the two of you. Your relationship was filled with laughter, friendship, trust, & most importantly, love. So much love. You never knew you could love anyone as deeply as you loved him, & you knew he felt the same.
And for the first year of your relationship it was pure bliss. Until it wasn’t.
Everything changed after you turned 18. You were ready to take your relationship to the next level. He had been ecstatic that you were ready to become intimate & finally have sex. It was how you knew he was one of the good ones, that he never pressured you or tried anything himself. He was respectful & kind & patient. Everything you dreamt about. But once you two did have sex, something changed in him. A darker energy you never knew he had emerged.
It started out small. He would become touchier. You had reasoned to yourself it was just because now that you two were having sex he was antsy for it all the time. But when the times came that you wouldn’t want, whether it was because you weren’t in the mood or weren’t feeling well, he would make snarky remarks under his breath. And then it shifted again.
He started to not want you going out with him, even if it was just to a friend’s house to watch a movie. He would text you the whole time, blow up your phone, leave you voicemails accusing you of not being where you said you were. Your friends pointed out to you that his behavior was problematic & that you should discuss it with. And so you did. Why wouldn’t you of? After all, you two had never had serious issues before. But you couldn’t have been more wrong.
The night you told him that he was beginning to make you feel suffocated would be a night you never forgot. He has lost his mind. You had never heard him yell before, let alone raise his voice, especially at you, but he had done it all that night. When he got to a point where you felt scared to be alone with him you had tried leaving but he wouldn’t have any that.
It was the first time he raped you. It wouldn’t be the last.
After the first time though, he had apologized profusely, swearing it would never happen again. He confessed to you that he was just scared of losing you & that you were giving him mixed signals lately. You didn’t understand that, knowing that in your own mind you were definitely not doing that, but he looked so scared, so terrified of losing you, that it had convinced you to stay with him.
You would live to regret it. His behavior didn’t change, it only got worse. But it eventually go to a point where you were practically chained to him. You stopped hanging out with your friends, quit coming out of your room to visit with your family, stopped posting about your life on social media. You became a scared little girl, & it was all because of him.
Then when you thought he couldn’t get worse, he proved you wrong.
The two of you had been attending a beach party. It was with his friends so you weren’t anticipating seeing any of your own, but one had been there. You had known Donovon your whole life, longer than any of your friends. Other than your closest girlfriend, Donovon was your next closest friend. So, when you saw him at that party, you were ecstatic to see a face you were forbidden to see.
It was your mistake putting Donovon in the devil’s path. Had you known what your boyfriend was capable of, you would have never taken him back. But that didn’t matter. When Donovon saw you, he snuck up behind you, capturing you by your waist & lifting you into the air. You had squealed in fear at first, genuinely scared due to your ex’s mental, emotional, & physical torment, but when you realized who it was, you only felt relief.
So, you hugged Donovon. Your oldest friend.
And it would be the last time you, that anyone did.
The devil had heard your screams of fear & came rushing forward furiously. You had no time to react or stop him as he tackled Donovon to the ground before beating him to a pulp. Donovon didn’t have a chance to defend himself as the devil knocked his head every which way. Others at the party managed to separate the two but the damage had been done.
Donovon was in the hospital for two weeks before his family took him off life support. Your boyfriend had murdered your oldest friend. And he got away with it, too. Witnesses at the party protected the devil, saying that Donovon had started it. That it was just a fight that got out of hand. No one knew that it would come to that. And most of all, your boyfriend’s father used his influence to ensure his son would never see a sentence. Not even for manslaughter.
Your boyfriend swore to you that he didn’t mean to lose it like he did but you saw that dark fury behind his eyes. He had. He had meant every single fist brought down onto your friend’s skull, & he would do it again.
You weren’t safe with him. That much you knew, but you didn’t know how to get away from him. At the time, you were preparing yourself to be one of the women you had seen in those domestic violence movies who couldn’t find their voice to tell anyone the truth. But that all changed when you took a pregnancy test & it came back positive.
That pink plus sign was all you needed to kick your flight instinct into gear. It took a couple weeks to get everything prepared, but you made it happen. They were the scariest weeks of your life because you were required to sneak behind the devil’s back to get the plan into place. After what he did to Donovon, it took little convincing from old friends & your parents to help you get out.
But you didn’t want them to get hurt in the process. So, once you had the funds, the drive, & a bus ticket out of town, you told all of those who helped you that you wouldn’t be in contact with them, too scared that if they knew where you were that your ex would do to them as he did to Donovon just to find out where you were. You couldn’t allow that, not again.
And so you ran, & you didn’t stop running until you reached the New England states. Throughout your relationship, you had revealed to your boyfriend many times how you dreamed of living in the Pacific Northwest. It would be the first place he looked for you. And he had the funds & means to do just that. So you went to the other end of the country, counting your days until he found you again.
The backfiring of a nearby engine shocked you out of your reverie. You blinked away your memories, realizing you were then only a block away from your house. The backfiring of a nearby engine sounded near the end of the street you were on & you froze, remembering what your coworkers at work had just told you about Georga Acosta.
You felt safe enough standing there on Main Street, surrounded by townsfolk as they went about their business, but you felt a chill roll up your spine. As if eyes were watching you. As if he was watching you.
Your flight instinct from long ago kicked in & you rushed into the nearest storefront. It was a Halloween store. The man behind the counter smiled politely at you as he continued helping a customer. You backed yourself up until you couldn’t be seen from the street but could still see the street yourself. As you did, the engine grew closer. You stood behind a shelf at the end of an aisle as you waited for Acosta’s truck to appear. For him to be behind the wheel.
But when the truck finally appeared, you felt a heavy weight lift from your shoulders. It was Chevy, much like Mr. Acosta’s, but not his. Instead, the truck that ambled down the street was filled to the brim with teenagers hooting & hollering as they wore Halloween masks, playing the iconic Halloween theme song on a boombox from the bed.
You fluttered your eyes closed, your hand on your chest.
“Miss, are you alright?”
Your eyes flew open at the nearby voice. It was the man behind the counter, the customer he had been helping gone.
“Yes, sorry.” You breathed out, a relieved smile on your face.
“Did you need to purchase something?” You could tell he was curious about you but didn’t push.
Your arm brushed against the shelves you had been hiding behind. On the display shelf was a witches hat. You quickly grabbed it.
“Just this.”
After paying, you felt safe enough to leave the store, now knowing your imagination was just that. Then you finished your walk home.
Someone was calling your name. It was like a whisper, close but far away at the same time. Your name was said again, over & over, & every single time it repeated it grew closer, louder. Until nothing. Then it was quiet.
Then a pair of lips touched your cheek.
You shot forward in bed, your face coated in sweat, your chest heaving. Your mouth & throat was dry. Holding your head in your hands, you focused on calming down your breathing. You touched your cheek where you had felt the kiss. It was warm to touch.
It was just a dream. You had fallen asleep, not meaning to, just wanting to lie down for five minutes but it seems your body had other plans. Once you gathered yourself, shaking away the nerves, you stood from your bed, your muscles aching. But as you did you halted immediately.
The door to your bedroom was open. Not all the way, just cracked open. You frowned. You were sure you had shut it. But ever since getting home, your mind had been a mess. All the anxiety & paranoia you were feeling was eating you away. You were losing it!
Brushing the concern for you door away, you exited your room, heading down to your kitchen. The clock on the stove read 2:32. School would have just gotten out, Nick would be here any moment with Louie. You chugged a glass of water & opened the fridge, peering inside to get a snack ready for Lou, though you imagined he would be bringing home plenty of candy from the trick-or-treat at school.
Just as you fingered a package of sliced ham, the doorbell rang. You felt your brows crease, checking the clock once more. 2:33.
They must have left school early. You thought mindlessly, knowing it was Nick with your son at the door.
Tossing the ham onto the counter, you rounded the kitchen to the front door. You unlatched the lock & swung it open.
“That was qui—” Your words died on your tongue.
There was no one. You frowned, stepping out onto your porch. Looking into your front yard & the neighbors, you saw no one in sight. Your street was quiet & bare of any life.
So, who rang the doorbell?
The question only left you reeling. Turning back to go inside, you stopped when something in the corner of your eye stole your attention. On the bottom step of the stairs leading to your porch was a few pumpkins you & Lou hard carved out together earlier that week. They appeared relatively normal except for one.
Warily descending the stairs, you gripped the banister when you finally realized what was wrong with the single pumpkin. The handle of a knife glinted under the autumn sun as it stuck out from the top of the pumpkin. You covered your mouth with your hand, whipping around to check your surroundings once more. There was no one in sight, not even Eugenia May—the town recluse—was peeking out from her window.
Your heart was hammering in your chest. You turned back to the pumpkin, kneeling down to inspect further. From what you could make out thanks to the cut-outs of the pumpkin, the knife was long, nearly piercing the other side.
Why would someone—
“Boo!”
A scream tore from your throat at the booming voice behind you.
Spinning around, you nearly toppled over before Nick managed to catch you by the elbow.
“What the fu—” Your son looked up at you with wide eyes, “—dge?!”
“Sorry.” Nick smiled uncomfortably, “It was your son’s idea.”
Your eyes danced between the two of them as your heart began to settle down. You hadn’t even heard the hum of an engine, let alone their footsteps as they came up the walkway.
“What are you doing outside, Mommy?” Louie asked, watching you curiously.
It was then that you remembered, too, why you were outside. You stepped in front of the pumpkin with the knife sticking out, grateful Lou had yet to see it.
“I was excited to you, baby.” You told him, ruffling his hair. He slapped your hands away playfully.
“Hey, why don’t you go inside & get a fruit snack, I’ll be in in a moment, I just need to talk to Principle Bentley.”
Louie charged forward. You smiled wryly, watching his small legs amble up the stairs & into the house.
“Sorry ‘bout that. Your kid is hard to say no to.” Nick apologized.
“No, that’s okay.” You waved it away, “I’m just relieved it was you & not someone else.”
“Who else would it be?” Nick asked, not realizing the dangerous ground he was treading.
“Maybe the person who stabbed my pumpkin.” You said, stepping out of the way to reveal the petty crime.
“Oh, shit.” Nick eyed the pumpkin on the bottom step, “Who’d you piss off?”
Of course you knew it was a joke but you didn’t laugh. In fact, it did the opposite. You frowned, staring at the deadly weapon.
“Oh, hey, I’m sorry, I was only kidding.” Nick reached for you but you stepped away.
“It’s—it’s fine. Forget about it.” Bending over, you snatched the knife by its handle before yanking it out. “Just me being fucking paranoid again.” You mumbled but Nick had heard you.
You were climbing back up to porch when he caught up to you, blocking the way to your door with a concerned look on his face, “_____, I’m sorry, truly I am.”
You stared at him, unsure of his words.
“Are you really thinking someone did this to you on purpose?”
His question unsettled you. You shifted from foot to foot as you avoided his eyes. You could feel your breathing begin to quicken, on the edge of hyperventilating.
“Hey, hey.” Nick closed the distance between the two of you, placing his hands on your shoulders gently, “Talk to me. If you’re really concerned then we should call someone about it.”
“No!” You rushed out, “No. It’s nothing. It’s just me being paranoid, it wouldn’t be the first time.”
You tried to go around him but Nick blocked you once more.
“I’ll get out of your way, I promise, but…I’ve never seen you like this before. This…scared. If something is happening, I want to help.”
“You can’t help.” You sighed defeatedly. You were just so tired, so tired of looking over your shoulder, of worrying about if & when he would find you. You just wanted to live a happy, normal life with your son.
“I can try.” Nick captured your eyes, “If you let me.”
As you stared back at him, seeing the genuine care for you, the same look you had seen once before in the last man you trusted, you felt yourself soften. Nick wasn’t him. Nick was a good person. Unlike your past, he wanted to help you. And so, for the first time in five years, you let someone in.
It was nearly 5’o’clock when Lou took off from the dinner table to go wash his hands. Nick helped you clear the table of dirty dishes. You thanked him for his help before placing the last of the dishes in the dishwasher.
“So, this ex of yours.” Nick began, “You think he’s found you?”
“I don’t know.” You shook your head, peering out a window over your kitchen sink, “I’ve been living in fear of him finding us for so long that anything remotely out of the ordinary makes me think it’s him.”
“Well, I can almost assure you that it’s not.” Nick kept his voice low as Lou entered the main room.
“Go ahead & watch some cartoons.” You told him, to which Lou very happily obliged. Once the TV sounded from the living room, you turned to Nick.
“How can you assure me that?”
After Nick made his claim to want to help you, you had told him everything. Everything. Not a detail spared. You weren’t explicit in reciting your history with your dreaded ex, but you detailed enough to get the point across.
“I called down to the station.” Nick revealed.
Your eyes widened, immediately questioning if you were wrong to trust him, but Nick raised his hand in reassurance, already predicting your reaction, “I didn’t give any names, I promise. I just asked if they had gotten any complaints about pumpkins or the like being vandalized. You know Brenden Brennen?”
You did. No one forgot an unfortunate name like that. He was a local teenager, known to be trouble.
“Apparently Brenden & some of his friends have been going around scaring people. Throwing poppers into driveways, jumping out of bushes, prank calling. I guess even Stephanie Romero’s garage got tagged with fake blood.”
You nodded, understanding where he was going with it all.
“It’s Halloween. It’s a spooky night. Kids are just getting up to no good, that’s all. Things are bound to go bump in the night.”
It did little relieve you but you accepted the likelihood that it was Brenden who stabbed your pumpkin.
“But what about Mr. Acosta’s truck? I mean, Isabella’s right. No one in town, not even Brenden Brennen, would be stupid enough to mess with him, let alone that truck he holds near & dear to his heart.”
Nick chuckled at that but shrugged, “Nothing so far as far as I know. But Mr. Acosta is getting up there. Way, waaaay up there. I hear his daughter complain every now & then that she swears he’s got Alzheimer’s, says he’s been losing track of things a lot lately.”
“A truck is quite a big thing to lose track of.” You muttered.
“Yeah, it is.” Nick nodded in agreement, “But think of it this way. From the sounds of it, your ex has money, & lots of it. If he were here, he wouldn’t be breaking into a barn to steal a beat-up old truck. He’d probably be driving through town in one of those nice sports cars that rarely come through here. And I say ‘rarely’ because folk like that stick out like a sore thumb. So, if he were here, someone would’ve noticed him by now.”
Everything he was saying was making sense, & you knew it to be true. You sighed, smiling, feeling like a fool.
“I just want it to end.” You admitted, your voice soft as you stared at Lou on the other end of the room, “I don’t want to live in fear for the rest of my life. I want Louie to have a normal childhood, not one that he looks back on wondering why his mom was always crying in her sleep or looking over her shoulder every day.”
“Hey.” Nick approached you, his hand on your lower back in comfort, “You have done so much for him. He knows how much you love him, he sees that. And he loves you, too. It may not be the childhood you want for him but it’s better than the one he could’ve had if you hadn’t run away, isn’t it?”
“Oh, god.” You marveled horrifically at the thought. You never thought too long, if ever, about what it would have been like raising Lou back home, with him always around.
“See?” Nick consoled you, “You’re giving him the childhood he deserves. As long as that kid there has you, he’ll be alright.”
You nodded, peering up Nick, “Thank you. For everything.”
He grinned sheepishly at that, shrugging, “I’m here for you, _____. For as long as you need me.”
It had been a long time since you felt like you found someone you could trust. You were happy Nick was the first.
Surprising even yourself, you raised onto your tiptoes & placed a kiss on his cheek. You watched as Nick blushed at the affection. When you pulled away, you two stared at one another before laughing lightly.
“Are you going to be my Dad, now?”
Both of you jumped apart as Lou stared at the two of you from the other side of the kitchen.
“What was that, buddy?” Nick played off your sons question as you tucked your smile into your teeth.
“No, baby, Principle Bentley was just helping Mommy.”
Lou made a questionable face but moved on, “When are we going trick-or-treating?”
“Oh, um.” You eyed the clock on the stove. It was nearly 6. “Any moment! Go get a jacket on & we’ll head out.”’
Lou began to run down the hallway before he stopped to stare at Nick, “Are you coming with us, Principle Bentley?”
“Oh, I, uh, we haven’t discussed—”
“Yes.” You answered for him, watching as Lou broke out into a smile in response, “Now go get a jacket, mister!”
Once Lou was out of sight, you turned towards Nick, “It’s probably not the date you had in mind but if you’d like, Lou & I would love to have you join us.”
Nick grinned that dimpled boyish grin of his, “Then I’d love to.”
Kids ran amok throughout the neighborhood as you & Nick walked side by side on the sidewalk, watching as Lou raced from house to house, filling his plastic pumpkin candy bowl to the brim. Every now & then, a candy or two would spill out as your son ran happily between yards.
Lou had wanted you to dress up but you had forgotten to actually get yourself a costume. So, the witches hat you had purchased earlier that day was all you had for a costume. It was enough to satisfy Lou, though the same couldn’t be said for Nick. You ended up having to use some of your own makeup to draw a clown look onto your boss’s face. He looked ridiculous, but you supposed that was fitting.
“He’s pretty great.” Nick commented, watching your son compliment another ghoul’s costume.
“Yeah, he is.” You felt pride.
“Ya know,” Nick began, his hands stuffed into his pockets, “I obviously don’t know anything about your ex except from what you’ve told me—which is all bad, bad stuff—but I hope you know that your son is yours. He’s not his. Even if he’s made up of half of him. Who he grows up to be, that’ll be all you.”
The thought warmed you. That was all you could really ask for.
The two of you watched as Lou ran down the stairs of another house before running up to you, practically slamming into your legs.
“Oof, careful, babe.” You giggled. Lou grinned up at you, holding out a piece of candy.
“Your favorite.” A Smartie was perched between his fingers.
You accepted the candy, smiling down at you son, “Thank you, Louie.”
Then he was off again, more candy spilling out behind him.
“He has his eyes.” You shared. Nick peered at you as you continued. “At first, that terrified me, ya know, when he grew into them. So much of his father there. So much of…”
You still couldn’t say his name.
“But you’re right.” You sniffled, the chilly autumn air beginning to make your nose run, “Louie will be nothing like him, even if he resembles him. He’ll be soft, gentle, kind, so full of life & wonder & happiness. All the things he is now. All the things his father isn’t.”
The three of you crossed the street once Lou finished up at the last house on the corner.
“You’re a really good mom, _____.” Nick commented, “Louie is in good hands, your hands.”
“Yeah.” You nodded, sharing a smile with him, though his smile appeared wider thanks to the red lipstick stretched across his lips & cheeks. You giggled openly, unable to take him seriously.
“What?” Nick widened his eyes in feigned offense, “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to draw a decent clown face.”
As you two laughed amongst yourselves, someone suddenly shouldered you, practically taking you off your feet.
“Hey, watch it!” Nick caught you as you stumbled into a neighbor’s yard.
You followed his line of sight, staring at the back of what you assumed to be a grown man as he stalked down the sidewalk, his hood pulled over his head. Nick grumbled in annoyance as he pulled you upright but you only remained staring after the man. But he never looked back & before you knew it, he had turned a corner & disappeared from sight.
“What is it?” Nick asked.
“N-nothing.” You faked a smile, shaking your head as you turned your attention back to him.
“Prick should watch where he’s going. Had we been one of these kids we’d’ve been flattened.”
Nick continued walking down the sidewalk, following behind as Lou continued his night of trick-or-treating. You looked over your shoulder once more & were startled by what you saw.
At the end of the block, where the man had disappeared off to, there he stood. At least, you assumed it was the same man, standing eerily still just staring at you. But you weren’t sure if it was you he was staring at. He was wearing a mask resembling a hockey mask, his face completely covered. There was no way to tell just exactly where he was looking but you felt it… you felt his eyes staring right back into your own.
“_____!” Nick hollered your name. You spun back around, realizing they had moved a couple houses down, “Coming?”
Looking back to the man, you were disheartened to find him gone, the corner barren of anyone taller than five feet.
Frowning, you caught up to Nick.
“Everything okay?”
You weren’t sure, but you reminded yourself of everything Nick had said earlier. If he was here, you would’ve known by now. And like he also said, it was Halloween, there was bound to be scares in the night.
Lou was slouched against Nick’s chest as he carried him back to your house. He was already half-way asleep, the excitement & running around having finally caught up to him. You carried his pumpkin basket full of candy, leading the way back. Once you reached the steps leading up the pathway to your porch, you peered up at you house, ensuring that nothing looked amiss.
“He’s gonna have one hell of a candy hangover.” Nick joked softly.
You smiled back him, “Thank you again for carrying him all this way.”
“It’s no problem.” He assured you, carrying your nearly asleep son up the stairs to your porch. You unlocked the door to your house, swinging it open so Nick could bring Louie inside.
“Where’s his bedroom?” Nick whispered. You pointed to your hallway, “Last door on the left.”
Locking the door behind you, you placed your keys & Louie’s basket of candy onto a counter in the kitchen before trailing down the hallway to his room. Inside, you found Nick gently tucking your son into bed. He was well asleep at that point. You smiled elatedly at the sight. It was a sight you had never seen before: a grown man putting your Lou to bed. It brought you more comfort than you thought possible.
Nick tiptoed out of the room & you pulled Lou’s door closed until only a crack was left.
Following Nick back into the main room, you grinned up at him, “You’re my hero.”
“Oh?” Nick raised a single brow, “Why’s that?”
“He adores you.” You nodded, “I remember after his first day of school he talked about how the principle came to his class to play games with the kids & get to know them. Of course, he doesn’t understand yet that you’re my boss, so he spoke about you like I had never met you before. You’ve made an impression on him ever since.”
“I could say the same thing about him.” Nick returned.
“Thank you again, for everything.”
Nick approached you, smiling down at you, “This better mean you’ll stop referring to me as Principle Bentley at work.”
You rolled your eyes playfully at that, “We’ll see.”
He narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously but chuckled nonetheless, “Well, I better get outta your hair, let you get some rest.”
You nodded, seeing him to the door. When you unlocked it, Nick stepped out, but before either of you could verbalize a parting, he turned back to you, “And thanks for the date. I enjoyed it.”
“Me, too.” You admitted, unable to hide your smile.
Then Nick crossed back to you, leaning down slightly to kiss your cheek, returning your affection from earlier, “I’ll see you Monday.”
“See you.”
Closing the door as he descended your stairs, you relocked the door before finally kicking your shoes off. It had been a long day. You were looking forward to winding down in bed with your recent Kindle purchase before dozing off. Turning off the lights in the front room, you grabbed a couple pieces of candy from Lou’s basket before retreating to your room, sure to leave the door cracked this time now that Lou was home. Unlike when you closed the door for your nap earlier, you never kept your door closed as Lou slept, always wanting to hear if any sounds came from his room.
Getting undressed & into pj’s, you slipped under the covers of your bed, pulling your Kindle out from your nightstand. Settling against your pillow, you began reading the text but it wasn’t long before you felt your eyelids begin to droop. Then, before you knew it, you slipped into slumber.
A floorboard creaking somewhere in your house woke you with a start. It was dark in your bedroom as you wiped the sleep from your eyes. You moaned at your stiff muscles, having fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position for your neck. Your eyes flashed to your nightstand. The clock flashed 2:24 a.m.
Your mouth was dry again, & you had forgotten to bring a glass of water to bed. Slipping out of bed, you exited your room. You stopped in the hallway to peek into Louie’s room. He slept soundlessly still in his bed. Closing his door most of the way once more, you trailed quietly down your hallway to the kitchen.
Once in the kitchen, you approached the cabinets by the sink. You had pulled one open, preparing to reach for a glass, but a sight outside the window above your sink caught your eye. And when you realized what you were looking at, your breath caught in your throat. Nick’s car. It was still parked out front. But more horrifying than that was what lied just beyond it. Across the street, parked in front of your neighbor’s house, was Mr. Acosta’s beloved Chevy.
Before you had time to react, a hand fisting itself in your hair yanked you backwards. A scream about ripped from your throat, but a gloved hand quickly clamped over your mouth before it could.
Panicked tears erupted from your eyes as you felt yourself being dragged backwards, the soles of your slippers failing to catch themselves on the hardwood. You struggled against the strong grasp of the arm that was wrapped around your middle as they yanked you back down the hallway towards your bedroom.
You didn’t need to see them to know who it was. All day, your paranoia had been trying to warn you but you didn’t listen, & then when you did start to listen to it, Nick had reasoned it out of you.
The force threw you onto your bed & you bounced haphazardly atop it before the room flooded with light.
All of the nightmares you had had in the last five years were occurring before your very eyes. And the man that caused them was glaring at you through the slits of a hockey mask. The same eyes your son had.
“Boo.” If the eyes of your ex wasn’t enough of a give away as to who wore the spooky mask, the hollowed out voice behind it was.
He was here.
Rafe had found you.
It took all off your strength & will to not scream in that very instance. Lou was sleeping safe & sound less than twenty feet away from you, totally unaware of the dangers in his home, you wanted it to remain that way. But damn it all to hell if you didn’t fear for your life at that very second.
Fear racked your body & panic ensnared your heart as Rafe Cameron, the ex you had ran out on with his unborn child in your tummy, stood before you.
Tense silence filled the room, save for the sound of your shuddering breaths. Tears blurred your vision as you stared wide-eyed in horror.
Rafe was breathing heavily, his chest moving almost in perfect time with your own. Your eyes fell to his hand, the glint of a familiar looking knife catching in the light.
He had been here all along. From the beginning. The cat store, Mr. Acosta’s truck, Lou’s stabbed pumpkin, & the man in the mask who stared at you on the street. All of it Rafe. All of it your past finally catching up to you.
“Rafe…” You shakily cried.
He cocked his head, the mask only adding more fuel to your nightmare. And though the mask kept his face hidden, you knew well enough that the man behind the mask was carrying a face full of fury. It was a face you never forgot.
He raised a single gloved finger then, wiggling it slowly at you. Then he brought that same finger to the mouth of the mask. Shh, he was telling you.
Tears burst from your eyes as you bit your lip to keep from whimpering out loud.
Don’t make him angry, do as he says. Lou is depending on you.
But images of Lou sleeping in his bed just down the hallway flooded your mind. Rafe was blocking the door. You wouldn’t have a chance to slip by him & race down there, & even if you did, you’d lead him right to your son. If you did that, there was no saying what he would do next, but you knew Rafe Cameron was capable of deadly things, & you were determined to keep your son ignorant to that.
It took every amount of restraint you could muster up not to run for your son, to shield him from the devil that snuck into your home. You kept a baseball bat hidden beneath your pillows. It had always been there, & only on rare occasions in the past did you feel the need to bring it out when something went bump in the night. But those bumps always turned out to be nothing. This wasn’t nothing. It was time to really use it.
Rafe only remained standing before you, his tall & solid frame filling the space of your room like a sleep paralysis dream. Though he wore a thick jacket to keep warm, you could see that he had grown over the years. He had always been tall, towering over you, but he was slender as well. Not anymore, though. It was obvious that he had gotten into the habit of working, adding muscles to his already destructive strength.
Swallowing the scream that desperately wanted to erupt from you, you kept your voice hush as you spoke, needing to distract him with your words as you very slowly, very subtly inched your fingers towards your pillows.
“What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question, you, especially as well as he, both knew why he was there. But you didn’t care. Just keep his mind distracted.
But he said nothing, just shook his head once.
You breathed heavily & sharply, your fingers managing to have slid under your pillow without drawing his attention, desperately seeking out the cool, metal touch of the bat.
“You shouldn’t have come here.” Your voice shook as you spoke, “You should’ve let me go.”
But Rafe exhaled heavily at that.
A relieved, quiet gasp parted your lips when your fingers finally found the bat, fiercely gripping the handle of the weapon.
Dropping your eyes to the open door behind him, you frowned, “Lou?”
Rafe turned around at that, expecting to see your son standing in the doorway, but it was only a fake-out.
Gritting your teeth, you yanked the baseball bat & raised it above you, quickly rushing to your feet to stand atop your bed.
You let out a war cry as you swung the bat downwards, aiming straight for Rafe’s skull. But he spun around in time to duck. The full weight of your swing made you stumble & one of your feet slipped off the bed. You clambered harshly to the wooden floor, your grip on the bat still tight, but Rafe snatched you by the back of your neck, ripping you upwards. You blindly swung the bat a second time but you felt a force catch the other end before tearing it from your grasp.
“No!” You cried out as Rafe threw against your dresser, a picture of you & Lou toppling over in the impact.
You threw yourself back, crab-crawling backwards as Rafe marched towards you, now your bat in one hand, his knife in the other.
“Rafe, don’t!” You screeched once you felt the wall against your back. But he only continued moving towards you. As he did, he tucked his knife away & raised the bat.
Fear choked you as you watched your own weapon of defense prepared to be used on you. You raised your arms, readying yourself to protect your face & head from the blow. Your eyes were squeezed shut, waiting for the whisper of air as the bat swung before reaching you…but it never came.
Breathing fearfully, you fluttered your eyes open.
The room was empty. Rafe was nowhere in sight.
“Lou.” Your voice shook with the realization.
You threw yourself forward onto your feet, getting ready to race after Rafe, but just before you reached the doorway, Rafe appeared again filling the space with his large frame. But he wasn’t alone.
To your horror, he had another before him, on their knees.
Duct tape was wrapped securely around Nick’s face, his mouth & most of his nose covered to suppress his grunts. His forehead was swollen & bleeding, evident of him having been attacked by a deadly force. Nick was unable to fight back, as his hands too were securely taped before him.
A shocked gasp left you as you backed up, taking in the nightmarish sight.
Rafe entered the room, pushing Nick forward until he fell face-down onto your floor. Nick groaned on impact before struggling to roll himself over onto his back. It was then that you noticed his legs were taped at the ankle.
Fresh tears breached your eyes as you peered at one of your only friends in the neighborhood. You made to move closer, to shield Nick from Rafe but as you did, you felt the cool touch of your bat catch the underside of your chin. Your eyes trailed the length of it until it led you to Rafe’s hand & arm, thus his face.
He shook his head once.
Shaking, you backed away as Rafe stepped closer.
Nick, the whole time, trying to speak but his words were unable to be made out behind the tape. His flashing between you & your ex with a mixture of fear & anger.
“Don’t hurt him.” You begged, “He has nothing to do with this. Please, just let him go, I’ll do whatever you ask.”
Rafe sighed at that, his head cocking at your plea.
“Please, Rafe.” You whimpered, snot running from your nose, “I’ll do anything.”
His silence only added to your terror. He wanted you to suffer.
“You’ll watch.” Was all he said. And before you could absorb what he had said, Rafe moved to stand over Nick & raised the bat.
“No!” But your scream died in your throat as Rafe brought the bat down on Nick’s skull.
Cries & choked sobs erupted from you as you watched on in horror as Rafe repeatedly bashed Nick’s face & skull in. You were forced to look away when blood spurted across your face & chest as Nick quickly became unrecognizable.
You covered your mouth as hot tears fell from your eyes & over your hands. Your room was filled with the gruesome sounds of the bat repeatedly making impact with what was once Nick. Squelching of brain matter & the crushing of bones filled your years & you felt bile rise in your throat. A pool of blood threatened to cake the soles of your feet as it grew bigger, forcing you to pull your knees to your chest.
The ghastly sounds stopped after another minute & by then you were numb to everything that was happening. Your body still shook, your mouth hung open in a silent scream, but you were no longer crying. Just staring dizzily at your headboard.
A metallic thud sounded & your eyes betrayed you as you sought the sound out. Your bat rolled towards you, all of it covered in a deep, thick red color, chunks of brain, flesh, & bone texturizing it.
A gag forced it’s way from your mouth & you crawled away from the monstrous sight, unable to look at what Rafe had done. But as you did, you felt Rafe eyeing you from the opposite side of your room. Before you could react, Rafe climbed on top of your, ensnaring you by the back of your head as he dragged you back over the bed. You thought he would’ve stopped there, but your horrors were only reignited when you dropped to the floor & were dragged into the hallway. Towards Louie’s room.
“No!” You yelped but Rafe quickly swung you around to his front, covering your mouth. You smelled the scent of blood on his glove as he kept you quiet, knowing good & well that Nick’s blood was now caking your face.
You fought against Rafe as he yanked you closer to your sons room, terrified that he would do to him what he had just done to Nick. At this point, you didn’t care if Louie woke up, if he woke to the sight & sound of you crying & screaming & fighting against the man from your dreams, thus shattering his childhood. You just needed him to run. Run as far as he could as you once did.
Once in the room, Rafe forced you to face your sleeping son, none the wiser to the danger approaching. You whimpered & thrashed against Rafe, trying every which way to elbow him or knock your head back into his but his strength greatly outmatched yours. It always had.
Rafe paused in the center of the room, crushing your back against your front as he secured you around the waist. He removed his hand from your mouth, but before you could scream a blood-curdling cry to alert your son, Rafe had swiftly produced the knife he carried & pressed the briny edge of it to your throat.
The plastic of the mask moved against your ear, “Don’t scream. Or he’ll scream.”
The threat was apparent. Your horrors were coming true. Everything you had fought for for so long were crumbling around you.
“Don’t.” You gasped, desperately reaching to cling to Rafe’s arm.
Your plea only forced the Rafe to press the knife harsher against your throat. Even you could feel your heartbeat pulsing against it. One swipe & Rafe would end your life before surely ending that of your sons. In a last ditch effort to save your sons life, you revealed the truth that Rafe needed to know.
“He’s your son.” Sobs racked your body as the words parted your lips. “Our son.”
Rafe stiffened behind you.
“Are you going to tell him?” Your mother asked you as she helped you pack one of your go-bags for the great escape.
“No.” You responded despondently, “If he knows I’m on the run with his unborn kid, he’ll stop at nothing, he’ll hurt anyone I love just to get to me.” You knew good & well that he would still do that, but he wouldn’t be in as such a rush otherwise.
Your mother nodded in understanding. But her hands shook fearfully as she folded your clothes before handing them to you.
“Are you going to go through with the pregnancy?” It was a question you asked yourself every day. “I love you, baby, I only want you safe. A kid will slow you down.”
“I know.” You muttered in agreement, “I haven’t decided yet. I just need to get away first before I do anything.”
“You’d deliver the baby alone.” She commented. Another thought that kept you awake at night. “We wouldn’t be there to hold your hand.”
You nodded, tears threatening to fall. Though you were still on the fence about whether or not you’d fulfill the pregnancy, you were leaning towards terminating it. Being on the run was no life for a child. And, your mother was right, the kid would only slow you down if Rafe ever caught up to you.
Your mother’s quiet sobs drew your attention. She had a hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide her cries.
“I’m so sorry, baby.” She peered at you through her tears, “We never wanted this life for you.”
You hugged your mother, & she you. Tightly, lovingly. You burrowed your face into her neck, savoring the form of affection. You didn’t know how long it would be until you ever felt it again, if ever.
“There’s always adoption.”
Rafe had tucked the knife away, but kept you quiet by grasping the column of your throat, your air restricted. He continued holding you just like that as he slowly approached your son, his son. He stood just beside Louie’s bed, his knees pressed against the bedframe as he leaned over to peer at the child’s serene, sleeping face.
You felt as Rafe shuddered before you, his arm outstretched with you on the other end as he kept you at distance from your son.
“My son…” Rafe’s voice was filled with wonder.
Tears continued to fall from your eyes, dripping onto Rafe’s wrist where the skin was exposed between the glove & sleeve of his jacket.
“Our son.” He whispered, but as he did, the grip on your throat tightened. Black dots filled your vision. Rafe turned away from Lou then, facing you head on, his eyes blazing behind the mask.
You kept him from me.
His fury was palpable. You tried to breathe, to speak, but Rafe only continued to claw his fingers into your throat.
Then he began to back you out of the room fast. Your were unable to catch your grounding as your feet tangled beneath you. Before you knew it, you were back in the hallway, your back pressed harshly against a wall as Rafe used the wall to lift you off the floor, your toes wiggling.
You latched your hands onto his arm, using every bit of strength you had left to try & fight him off.
Rafe glared at you hard through the slits of his mask, his eyes red, watering, filled with betrayal, contempt, & murderous intent.
“We could have been a family.” Rafe breathed out harshly, his grip tightening more than you thought possible. Your vision swayed.
“You took that from me.” Rafe spit from behind the mask.
“Plea—” You choked, the lining of your vision beginning to darken. Your muscles were loosening. Death awaited you. But Lou needed you.
Then Rafe brought his other hand to your throat & squeezed. You thrashed weakly until you felt your consciousness begin to slip. Rafe’s hands around your neck were the last thing you felt before you stopped fighting, your body going limp.
“He’s my family now.”
A cry tore from your throat as doctors & nurses alike rushed around you. A stinging, hot pain shot up your spine as you felt your insides contort & cramp within you. Your legs were splayed open, blood staining the white sheets that kept you from seeing what happening down below.
“She’s losing blood!” A voice yelled.
“Get the baby out!” Another responded.
“We’re gonna lose both!”
Tears erupted from your eyes, blurring your vision as you clung to the sheets of the hospital bed, your throat raw from screaming.
Another pinch & you screamed again, sweat coating your face.
And then cries filled the room, Lively cries of a baby having been born. You collapsed against the mattress, your body weak.
“Baby’s out, we got him, he’s okay!”
You felt your vision go in & out, but you reached your hand out blindly in search of your child.
“It’s a boy.” A soft voice neared you. Cries continued to fill the room, but they grew closer to you.
“It’s your boy.” A nurse appeared in your vision as it swayed.
In her arms, she held something small as it wriggled about in her arms. A single hand stuck out in search of something.
Then your fingers touched, & the small yet mighty grip of the child clung to your index finger.
A weak smile crossed your lips, “Louie.”
But your hand fell as you felt your heart rate slow.
“We’re losing her!”
“Louie.” You whispered, his name like a dream on your tongue.
A gasp choked you awake & you shot forward. Tears coated your cheeks & you were breathing heavily. You winced at the burning, raw sensation within your throat.
The room, your room, was filled with morning sunlight. Your eyes flashed fearfully around the room. You were still in your home.
Lou!
Launching yourself forward, you halted to peer at the floor near the foot of your bed. It was empty. No body, no blood, no bat.
You frowned. It wasn’t a dream, though. You touched your fingers to your neck, the skin tender as you did.
He had been here, he had!
Racing out of your room, you stumbled down the hallway to your son’s room, “Louie!” You screeched, despite the pain it caused you as you did, your throat burning in response.
But your fears were instilled as you charged into your son’s room to find his bed empty.
“Louie, baby!” You cried, retreating from his room & tumbling down the hallway, “Baby, where are you?!”
At the mouth of the hallway, you halted, eyeing your son at the counter bar. His back was to you as he ate pieces of candy from his pumpkin basket.
“Louie!” You released a relieved cry & approached him. But before you could reach him, another figure appeared in the corner of your eye.
Rafe rested against a counter opposite your son, a mug of coffee in his hands. He was barren of any mask or clothes from the night prior. He grinned wryly at you, challenging you to attempt anything.
You eyed him warily, furiously as you continued moving slowly towards your son.
Lou looked back at you then, a chocolatey smile gracing his youthful features.
“Morning, Mommy!” He greeted in his cheerful tune.
Dropping your gaze from Rafe, you peered at your son. Closing the distance, you hugged him to your chest, crying into his hair as you kissed him repeatedly.
“Don’t be mad. Daddy said I could have candy for breakfast.”
You shook against your son as you raised your eyes to that of your ex’s.
“That’s right.” Rafe smirked, crossing the kitchen to where the two of you were. You pressed Lou closer against you, your hands gripping him tightly, ready to shield him from Rafe.
“And you can have it for lunch & dinner & dessert.” Rafe grinned down at your son, his son.
“What the fuck do you want?” You sneered, uncaring if Lou heard the fear in your voice.
Rafe eyed you then, “What we all should want.”
He peered at your son then, “To be a family.”
The thought unnerved you.
“If you don’t get out of my house, I’ll—”
“Careful.” Rafe cut you off firmly, before casting his eyes to an object on the counter only inches away from his fingers. The knife.
“Sorry, buddy. Mommy had a bad night.”
You felt as Louie stared up at you then, “Was it the bad man from your dreams again?”
Rafe’s eyes stared coldly into your own.
“Yes, baby.” You replied, your voice shaky.
“But you’re okay now.” Louie attempting to soothe you as he fingered your hair, “Daddy is here to protect you.”
His innocence, still intact as grateful as you were, only made you fearful of when Rafe would surely snuff it out.
“That’s right, Louie.” Rafe peered between the two of you, “Daddy’s home, & we have a lot of catching up to do.”
this is 7/10 requests from my 500 followers celebration request opening!
fuck. that's all i have to say.
big thank you to @namelesslosers for making this fucking AWESOME request, i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it, please be sure to share your thoughts w me.
as always! drop a comment, reblog w reviews, or talk to me in my ask box. this is one doozy of a dark fic that has me on edge just waiting for your feedback. so please provide some.
thank you for reading!
oona<3
Read this post on why doing more than liking a tumblr writers work is essential to our content creation.
[my love language is words of affirmation, it would make my day if you could comment your thoughts, reblog with tags, or drop an ask that shows your support. thank you for reading tumblr writers, we appreciate you]
taglist: @jsrafesgirl @bunnycvnts @ditzyzombiesblog
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#dark!rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfiction#dark!rafe cameron x reader#dark!fic#dark!fanfiction#non con fic#outer banks fanfiction#dark!outer banks#something wicked this way comes
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sweeter than candy
pairing: baker!james potter x baker!reader
genre: fluff
w/c: 1.2k
summary: six years ago you left the small town you were trapped in and you would have never thought that the cute boy next door would be the one running the bakery your family once owned.
warnings: none
a/n: CUTE!
Since the very beginning of time you’ve always loved baking. Baking was your one true joy, your one true love. Ever since you could remember it was always you in the kitchen. The first thing you held was a spatula, the first thing you said was cake. There was something so amazing and fascinating about being able to whip up baked goods. You simply loved the satisfaction it gave you whenever the delicious treat was finished. Whether it be a cake or a pastry. You grew up surrounded by sweet treats and the scent of freshly baked goods in the air.
Both your parents co-owned a bakery and it was their pride and joy. You were often behind the counter helping to whip things up and it couldn’t have made you happier. The customers always commented on how one day you would be running the bakery, stepping into the shoes of your parents.
As you grew older you started to look at baking in a more professional way. You wanted what your parents had and you were going to achieve it. You went to culinary school, became an apprentice for bakers all around the world. Yet now it all seems to have failed as you find yourself back in the small little town you grew up in, living with your parents.
You were dragged away from your job to help your mother move into her new house. Ever since your father died, she had sold the bakery and it was just you and her. Being the great daughter you were you decided to assist her with whatever she needed but it seemed in vain considering how your mum was adamant she could do things on her own, a trait you inherited.
So now you were left to wonder about the small town and how it had grown while you were away. Most things had stayed the same and by most things you meant that the same old, dusty shops that had been there years prior. It was the same town you left six years ago. The nostalgia hit you like a tidal wave and suddenly you were experiencing memories you had thought you had forgotten.
You hadn’t been back in so long and now, being back, it was overwhelming. The only new thing was the bakery that had once been your parents was now taken over by a new owner. It had been renamed and completely remodelled. It now bore light pastel blue walls and a bright red door that only seemed to draw you in. Curiously, you made your way towards the new bakery. Your mother hadn’t mentioned any of this to you and you were curious as to why.
As soon as you opened the door the smell of baked bread and frosted cupcakes hit you. The interior was the same as when your parents had owned it. The same beige chairs and wooden tables. The same cream walls that had beautiful flowers painted onto them. The outside had changed but not the inside. You spied the spectacular crafted pastries. The tarts that looked unreal and the cakes that were frosted perfectly. There were name cards indicating what was in each item and you saw how they were handwritten, a chicken like scrawl but still legible - you recognised that from somewhere. A deep voice cut through your thoughts.
“Hi, how can I help you?”
Your eyes darted up to meet with a familiar face.
James Potter.
You’d recognise him anywhere but he looked so different. Was this the same James Potter that would squeak and run to hide whenever he saw you approaching? James’ cheeks went bright red once he registered it was you. Yep, it definitely was.
You bit back a smile at the reaction. James was the boy next door and he never failed to make your day brighter when you were younger. The two of you knew each other but you weren’t ever close as friends. You’d always wanted to get to know him but he’d run away or find an excuse to not talk to you. Your friends had always said it was because of the raging crush he had on you - which was true.
“Hi James.” You waved your hand and gave him a beaming smile. “Finally decided to visit and decided to pop in, you’ve got a nice place here.” You never remembered James being into baking and yet here he was. “When’d you get into baking?”
“Um, a while ago, I can’t exactly remember. After your mum sold the bakery it was just an empty shop until I bought it. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “It’s just something small I run, nothing like you of course.”
You were pretty sure everyone in town knew about how you had upped and left to the big city to pursue your dreams. They obviously knew that you had made it since your mum was one for gossip. There were a lot of things different in the city than in the town you grew up in and honestly the first few months you cried yourself to sleep but now you were happy - not really though. You thought you would have at least opened your own bakery by now but you’re still working in a tacky restaurant. Your dreams had halted.
James cleared his throat and gestured to the array of treats that were laid out. “So what would you like?”
Carefully, you eyed each one. They all looked so delicious. It was so hard to pick. You read each label with care and saw how much detail was provided. You could tell how much love was poured into it and for some odd reason it made your heart swell. You’ve always been indecisive so choosing something to have was hard.
“Just give me your favourite, whatever you like I’m sure I will.” You smiled at him and rummaged through your bag to take out your card. You didn't notice the way James’ cheeks lit up fire truck red again and how he was staring at you like you were the light of his life.
James caught himself staring and quickly muttered okay and made sure to grab his favourite strawberries and cream tart for you. He charged your card and packaged your order. He could feel your eyes as they watched his every movement and he couldn't help but burn bright pink. He’d had a crush on you since the first moment he had laid eyes on you and right now, seeing you after so many years, it made his heart speed up with joy. He’d never tell you but he had started baking because of you. He missed you so much when you had gone away.
You took your order gratefully, thank James one last time before heading out and back home. You peeked into the box to see a beautifully baked tart and it made your mouth water. The smell wafted to your nose and the sweetness comforted you. When you had tasted it it was even better. The flavours exploded in your mouth and you savoured the sugary taste that was left on your tongue. Everything about it made you happy. There was some unknown love that had been dedicated towards this and it made your stomach and taste buds so ecstatic. This was definitely more delicious than anything you had tasted before.
You were definitely going back.
#james potter x reader#james potter#james potter x you#marauders fanfiction#marauders x reader#draco malfoy fanfiction#marauders imagine#marauders fluff#james potter x y/n#james potter fluff#james potter imagine#fluff#marauders
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Chapter 18
Summary: Wanda has been seeing someone. Daisy reconnects with Reader. Jean and Anna have special plans.
A/n: Heeeyy, please don't hate me. Enjoy!
Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters
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Wanda checks her watch nervously. She had arrived at the office thirty minutes early to mentally prepare for the appointment. She wasn't sure what she was going to discover in that room. All she knew was that the idea made her feel ill. Her mind jumps to all of the people she slept with and she begins to feel like an idiot. Her leg bounces nervously as she thinks about how she will be judged by the doctor. It won't happen in front of her but she's almost certain it will happen.
“Wanda Maximoff?” Her head snaps up at her name being called. “I'm ready to see you now.” Wanda nods and rises as she collects her things. She was going to be fine. Agatha swears by therapy. She was going to be fine. This was the next step to getting better and getting on with her life.
You are standing in the backyard of your former home. “You wanted to show me my own craft space?” You ask with arms crossed over your chest.
“No, we wanted to show you our future craft space,” Jean says and Anna waves her arms around as she presents a stack of boxes where your tools and materials used to be laid out.
“What's this? You know that I need the space when I get an order. I know it’s been a while but it’s not just for me. I’ve been able to help you guys with the money I make from this side job. It’s not some frivolous hobby,” you walk around the room.
“Yes, well, it’s actually been a year – close to a year and I’m pretty sure we were your last customers,” Jean says. “Besides, since we’re going to have all of this time we thought would be occupied by a baby… We want to make it into a craft space.”
You clamp your mouth shut as you look at the boxes. It wasn’t fair for them to throw that in your face but this scenario was eerily similar to the one you’d witnessed with Wanda’s basement and Vision. You couldn’t stoop as low as that man so you sighed and nodded. “Okay, can you give me time to find somewhere to store it all? I don’t have the space right now.”
“Sure,” Jean says, “just please don’t take too long. I have a lot of idea’s and I’m excited. Well. We’re excited.” She pulls her wife close to her and the two share a kiss. You find their behavior to be odd but you don’t think about it too much.
“Okay,” you drag out. “I should get going. I need to do some grocery shopping and make some phone calls to see who will be willing to store my things until I can find a better place.” You walk through the gate to get to your car as they allow you to go. You scroll through your contacts to see who you can trust with your tools and supplies. You pause for a moment when you see Daisy’s contact. You know that you didn’t love her the way she deserved but it still hurt to see her name. You decide to leave that task for when you’re home because you needed to focus.
You walk around the store with this nagging feeling that you should contact Daisy for some reason. You didn’t understand it. In the time since she ended things with you, you haven’t wanted to contact her once. Maybe it was because things with Wanda have crashed and burned alive. You don’t know, but you had to fight it because it wouldn’t be fair for you to try and insert yourself in her life again. As you shop you recignize her friend and you can’t stop yourself from saying hi. Because you mistakenly feel as though that would be rude. “Hey, Jemma!” You greet with as smile.
Her eyes go wide and she almost runs but instead turns around smiles back. “Y/n, it’s been a while. How have you been?”
You take a deep breath as you mentally run through the chaotic months you’d been having. “I’ve been better,” you nod. “Yeah, um, how have you been?”
She makes a face and narrows her eyes at you, “Let’s not waste our time here. I’m not the person you want to know about. Am I?”
You’re surprised by the implication and you shake your head. “No, I’m genuinely curious about you. I wouldn’t ever put you in a position to update me about Daisy. She made it very clear that she wanted me out of her life.”
Jemma’s eyes scan you and she nods. “I’ve been well. Daisy, however, not so much. I’m telling you this because she is going to reach out to you soon. As much as I don’t like you, you do deserve the warning.”
Your eyebrows twitch and you frown slightly, that was not what you expected to hear. “Oh, I hope I can help her with whatever it is. I just… She’s not going to try and get back together right?”
Jemma bursts out laughing and you smile and nod as she makes a big show of her amusement. “I’ve forgotten how funny you are!” She points at you with a grin. “No! She doesn’t want you back!”
“I’m sorry,” you say as you try not to roll your eyes at her reaction. It was unnecessary. “Just, let her know that she can contact me whenever she wants. I’ll see you around, Jemma. Or maybe I won’t.” You walk away and continue to shop for the week. You go home and put your groceries away and don’t think about Daisy the rest of the day.
Wanda sits in her office and goes over her budget proposal for the project she was assigned. The company has been trying to score her former in-law’s as a client for years. She knew Stark Industries was a big corporation when she married into the family. It’s what paid for this house. It’s what allowed her to not work for six months. It’s what has paid for her new land. But for some reason she still feels weird about using her relationship to the Starks to help this company land them as a client. It made her realize why they probably hired her in the first place even with the unexplained unemployment gap after being fired from her previous firm. She runs through the proposal a couple more times and hopes that this doesn’t create a rift with the people she was getting to build a healthier relationship with.
When she feels confident about the proposal she sets it aside and starts to work on the digital blueprint of her dream home. It has gone from sketches to utilizing the program on her computer to draft together a more visual representation of what she wants her house to look like. She has lots of windows and an open floor plan. She knows where she wants a dining room and how she wants the kitchen to look like. The second floor has a den space and an office space and multiple bedrooms. Then she considers adding a third floor but thinks it might be too much.
She starts to shuffle the rooms around and considers moving the office to the ground floor. Then she adds a basement. Then she takes it away. She plays around with the design until her stomach grumbles and she is reminded that she has to eat. She shut down her work and walks downstairs to make herself something to eat. As she sets out ingredients, she fantasizes about you standing in the kitchen helping her. She wonders if you'd wrap your arms around her and kiss her cheek as she chopped vegetables. She thinks about how easily she could melt against your body. She allows herself to think about moments she could have with you without making herself feel guilty about it. She's tired of feeling guilty for wanting a better life for herself.
As she lays on the couch and watches a show that she has been binging lately she mindlessly traces the letters M, I, N, E, on her upper thigh. In her mind, it's a memory of you, but really it's only another fantasy. She doesn't know why she can't just give in. She doesn't know why she pushes you away. She knows she shouldn't have but she also knows that she probably would have hurt you. She takes a deep breath and sighs.
She walks up to her bed as her mind prepares her for waking up early the next morning. The mental checklist of what she has to take care of tomorrow. What she should wear for her meeting with Tony. What she should make herself for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Should she go out? Should she anticipate Tony offering to take her to lunch?
She thinks about the therapy sessions she has scheduled for the next several weeks. She thinks about wanting to hang out with her friends. Then as she closes her eyes, she thinks about you and a small smile lifts up her lips.
You are getting ready to take your lunch break when your phone goes off in your pocket. Your heart leaps into your throat when Daisy’s image covers your screen. You answer and start walking away from the job site. “Hello?” You say into the phone. There is a loud drilling sound and someone starts banging a hammer on a wall. “Hold on, I can’t hear you. One second please.” You cross the street and keep walking until you find a quiet area. You sit down on a park bench. “Okay, I can hear you now. Um, hey,” you say as you remove your hardhat. “This is a surprise. How are you?”
“Is it a surprise? Jemma told me that she warned you I might contact you,” Daisy says.
“Uh, she did say that but I wasn’t sure when to expect your call. So it is still a surprise,” you reply as you run your fingers through your hair. “She also warned me that you’re not doing too well. Is there something I can do for you?” Daisy goes quiet and you think that the call has dropped, you move the phone from your face to check but the sunlight makes it difficult to tell. “Hello?”
“I’m here,” she sighs and you can tell that she is trying to hide that she is crying. You take a deep breath as you brace yourself for what she might tell you. Maybe Phil is terminally ill. Maybe her mom passed. Maybe this, maybe that.
“I’m here for you,” you tell her. “No matter what, it’s okay. You can tell me.”
“I,” her voice cracks and you wish that you could do something more than sit here on the phone with her. “What I need to talk to you about is better done in person,” she finally says through her sniffles.
“Okay, um where do you want to meet?” You ask. “I don’t have Rachel this week so you could come over to my place because it's a lot more private than yours or if you don’t want privacy I can go to your place after work. Um or we can meet somewhere public. I’m willing to do whatever you need.” You softly offer her options. Your heart is pounding from the anticipation. What could be so bad that she had to see you in person?
“I’m okay with coming over to your place,” she replies.
“Okay,” you state, “does seven-thirty work for you? I’ve been working twelve to thirteen hour shifts to pay those pesky hospital bills.”
“Seven-thirty works,” she answers. “I’ll see you then.”
“I’ll see you then,” you say as the call ends. You sit on that park bench a little bit longer as you fear what Daisy has to say. What could she possibly be holding on to? What has her in tears? What can’t she say over the phone? Your mind races as you eat your lunch. It continues to run as you get back to work and think about what Daisy needs help with.
Wanda laughs with Tony as they sit together in a nice restaurant. Her pitch went well and Tony said that he would consider hiring her for the project. Then he offered to take her to lunch to celebrate. Now the two were discussing highlights of Vision’s finest moments during past holidays. “Oh, remember that time he convinced your dad to let him cut the turkey and he nearly cut his finger off?” Wanda says.
“How could I forget? I’m the one who pointed out that there couldn’t be that much blood on a turkey!” Tony laughs as he lifts his glass from the table and swirls it around. He shakes his head. “I have no clue how I’m related to that man.”
“I don’t know either,” Wanda says. “You are way more fun to be around,” she compliments and they clink their glasses together as they cheers to that.
“You know, Wanda,” Tony starts as he leans in closer. “Why are you wasting your talents working for a company like Nexus Developments? You are family,” he puts his hand on top of Wanda’s. “We could have helped you land a job with the company we usually use or hell, we could have made a branch for you.”
Wanda taps Tony’s hand as she pulls away and slumps back into her seat. “I know that you would have. But I couldn’t ask that of you or your family. Vision would have made it about him some how and lately,” she shakes her head as she feels tears building up. She takes a deep breath. “Lately, whenever your brother doesn’t get his way, my kids pay a price. Hell, even when he does get his way, my kids still suffer.”
Tony nods and takes a drink from his glass, he sighs as the aged scotch goes down smoothly. “I understand your position. Just know that if you ever need help, we are still here for you. Vision can go fuck himself,” he tells her. Wanda laughs a softly as she agrees with his statement. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to convince you into a Maximoff and Stark partnership once again. This one being a profitable business instead of an emotional headache.”
Wanda shrugs, “We’ll see. The future is quite unpredictable after all.”
As you walk through the your apartment building you run through the possibilities of the impending conversation over and over in your mind. The scenarios don’t stop until you see Daisy pacing in front of your door. You check the time on your watch and fill with relief that you’re not late, she’s early.
“Hey,” you say as you sort through your keys to find the one that will unlock the door. Daisy startles as you announce your presence. “Sorry, I didn't mean to,” you notice that she doesn't look too good and you just move to open the door. “Let's just,” you hold it open for her and she walks right past you. “Would you like anything to drink? Water maybe?”
Daisy shakes her head. “No, I don't know how long you'll want me in here after I tell you what I need to tell you.”
You make a face, unsure what she could possibly say that would have you kicking her out of your home. “I have a feeling this is something we should sit for. Come on,” you sit down on the couch and wipe the sweat from your forehead.
“Are you sure you don’t want to shower first? You’ve been working hard all day and I know you how much you hate sitting in–” Daisy rambles on as she paces the living room and you have to cut her off.
“Daisy, I hate waiting even more,” you tell her. “Come, sit,” you pat the space next to you on the sofa.
Daisy stands still and frowns at you. “No you don’t. You are the most patient person I know.”
You nod your head slowly, “I can be patient, that’s true. But I still hate waiting.” You admit to her. “I’ve been worried about you all day, Daisy. I don’t want to be pushy but I want to be able to help you. I can’t do that if you don’t stop stalling and tell me what’s wrong.”
Daisy sits next to you and drops her face into her hands. You sit there and wait for her to collect her thoughts and say something. Anything that will explain her behavior. You bounce your leg as your body decides to show your impatience. The movement has Daisy moving her hands from her face through her hair. “The night we broke up I,” the area around her eyes are red and her nose is pink. She doesn't face you because she can't say this and have you look at her differently. She doesn't know where you stand on a topic like this because every conversation the two of you had on the matter was purely hypothetical. She wanted to keep this to herself because she didn't want you to change in her eyes. She likes you the way you are. “I found out that I had um, sorry this is difficult for me to say.”
You hold your hand out to her, “Daisy, it's okay. Whatever it is,” you trail as she turns her head away from you. “Are you sick?” You ask softly as her shoulders shake.
She turns her head to stare in front of her as she shakes her head and wipes her tears. “No, I'm not sick. That's not the kind of results I had received,” she reaches for the box of tissues in the coffee table and blows her nose. “I found out that I was pregnant,” she finally says.
You feel your heart stop beating and drop to your stomach. You grow nauseous at the news. “Oh,” you grab onto the arm of the couch as if you're going to faint. “I um,” you blink a couple of times. “Is it someone else's?” The words stumble out before you can process the implication.
“I never cheated on you,” she states sharply and she looks at you this time.
“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I mean, can you blame me for asking? You didn't tell me until today. You broke up with me instead of telling me. I can't think of why you would do that unless the baby wasn't mine or —” you stop talking as you look at her and clamp your mouth shut. Daisy avoids your eye contact as you recall her behavior that night. She didn't want to be a mother. She kept telling you that as she tried to leave. “Oh,” you react again. The tension in your body releases and you try to figure out how you can address this conversation respectfully. “You decided not to go through with the um the uh pregnancy? Is that what you're telling me?” You try to keep your tone even and your features neutral, trying to avoid showing any insensitive emotions out of respect.
Daisy closes her eyes as she starts to sob. “I couldn't go through with it. I'm not ready.” She says through her tears. You nod your head because you don't know what to do or how to properly react. “It wasn't an easy decision, you know? I thought about it for a couple of weeks and I thought about telling you but I was so scared that you would be happy and I would have the baby to please you and I just —”
“Daisy,” you call her name until she stops rambling and you enter her personal space, pulling her against your chest to let her know that you are there for her. “Daisy, I get it. It's okay. I’m not ready for another kid. Shh, shh, it's okay. It's your body, I would have never asked—”
“I know you wouldn't have but I would have done it! For you!” She interrupts. “Because I know how much you love kids and you're a great parent. You're so great with Rachel and I know how much she wants siblings and I just couldn't. I couldn't be the one to give you that. But if I told you, I would have gone through with it and I would have been miserable,” she continues to ramble. You pull back and get her to look you in the eye.
“Daisy, you're not listening,” you say calmly. “Breathe with me. Okay?” She nods with you and you count to four with your fingers as you inhale through your nose. Then you put down the four fingers as you hold. You lift them back up as you exhale. And you repeat the process with Daisy until she appears a little more relaxed. “Daisy, recently I've been asked by my ex-wife to have more kids with her and I told her no. I — this is going to sound horrible but — I wasn't ready to be Rachel's parent. I love her, she is my world. But it took me longer than anyone realizes to be comfortable being her parent. I wasn't ready and I know that a lot of parents will tell you that none of them were ready and that's,” you wave your hand to the side. “It's quite clear that they weren't and I don't think it should be that way.” You shake your head. “Daisy, I'm telling you right now that I'm not ready for another child. When you told me about the pregnancy right now I nearly threw up. You made the right decision. I'm not mad at you. I don't hate you for making this decision on your own. It's your choice, I'm just sorry that I didn't make you feel like you could come to me about this. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you.” Daisy closes her eyes and leans against your chest.
Neither of you talk for a moment. Allowing yourselves to process and accept the truths that each has shared. You think about how that night might’ve gone differently. You wouldn’t have lived with Wanda for almost two weeks. You wouldn’t have gotten as close to Wanda as you have. You would have been having back-and-forth conversations with Daisy. You would have developed a stronger relationship. Maybe. It could have turned sour. She could have grown distant and resented you or herself for the decision. Who knows? That wasn’t what happened. So it doesn’t matter now. But you can’t help but think where you could have been now had things happened differently.
“Did you deal with this alone?” You eventually ask her. Daisy shakes her head against your chest. You’re surprised she is still resting against you because normally she couldn’t stand the smell of your sweat and the other odors that come from manual labor when the two of you were together. “Jemma?” She nods against you. “Can I ask, uh, what… or why did you bring this to me now?” You ask carefully.
You feel Daisy take a deep breath and this is what pulls her away from you. She wipes her face and sits against the back of the couch. She plays with the rings on her fingers and flexes her jaw. “I didn’t get the abortion until a couple of weeks ago,” she admits. “I almost went through with the pregnancy because,” she takes another shaky breath. “Jean was at the same clinic I was at to make the appointment. I spilled my guts to her because Jemma had to leave halfway through since it wasn't the appointment and Jean was there when I had second thoughts. It took me a couple of weeks to even go in because I was in denial for a bit. I didn’t want to believe it was true. Then I saw the sonogram and I,” she shakes her head and looks up to the ceiling. “I had second thoughts.” She shrugs her shoulders and you take one of her hands to offer your support. It’s not an easy decision for most. That's assuming that it's ever an easy decision for anyone. “Jean offered to pay for my doctor bills and prenatal care if I decided to follow through with the pregnancy and gave her and Anna the baby and never told you about any of this.” You drop Daisy’s hand and turn away from her.
You stand up with that nauseous feeling again, not sure what to do about a betrayal of this caliber. You know that Jean has a tendency to do anything and everything to get what she wants when she wants it but… This was too far. “I can’t fucking,” you shake your head. You want to punch a wall or break something but you can’t. You can’t afford the injury. You can’t afford the plaster to fix the wall. You can’t afford to replace the things you have. You can’t afford any of this because you thought you were paying off debts before interest can build on them. You thought you were doing everything right. You thought you could trust Jean. You can’t believe she would go so far as to put Daisy through something like this.
“Please don’t hate me,” Daisy begs, “I was confused and I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I only said yes at first because I thought you would be allowed to be in their life and I thought you would like that and–”
“I’m not upset with you,” you cut her off. “It’s not your fault,” you try to focus on your breathing but you can’t calm down. You can’t focus on anything. You don’t know how someone can be so deranged. You look at Daisy and you feel so guilty for what happened to her. The position she was put in. It makes sense why one day Jean is ready to cut your head off for saying no and then next she’s perfectly fine. What kind of person could be so deceptive? What kind of person… you huff through your nose. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you say to Daisy in the softest tone you could muster up. “You shouldn’t have… She shouldn’t’ve…” you shake your head and close your eyes.
Daisy stands up and takes your white-knuckled fist and massages the tight skin until you release your grip. “I am going to be okay. I probably shouldn’t have told you. I just, I don’t know. At first the offer was that I just give them the baby. I wrongfully assumed that also meant giving you the baby. Then she eventually told me that you would not know that the baby was even yours,” she shakes her head. “I couldn’t put myself in the middle of this. I couldn’t put anyone in the middle of that. I didn't want to be part of why Rachel’s parents grew to hate each other. You guys are such healthy examples for her.” You begin to grow upset again thinking about how Jean deceived Daisy. How she was ready to deceive you. It was one thing to ask you to knowingly not be allowed in your child's life. But to go behind your back and essentially kidnap what almost was your child… you couldn’t believe it.
“When I had the chance to think about it, I didn’t want to give birth. I couldn’t go through with it so without telling her, I went through with the abortion because that’s what I wanted.” Daisy closes her eyes as tears slip out and she continues to rub your hand. Something she learned that can keep you grounded. “The only thing that has been tearing me apart about this whole thing is how much of it was being kept from you. I haven’t been able to sleep because of it. You deserve to know.”
“Thank you for telling me,” you state as you watch her rub your hands. You clench your jaw as your eyebrows knit together. Normally an action like this would calm you down but the information was far too upsetting. “I need to go for a walk or something. I don’t know. I just can’t be here right now.” You pull your hand away.
“I don’t think you should be alone,” Daisy tries to pull you back to her.
“Trust me, right now, that’s what’s best for everyone,” you say as you hold your hand up to stop her from coming any closer to you. Daisy stares at you, wanting to be in your arms again. Wanting to feel that comfort that you brought her. Both in the past and just before she dropped the bomb on you. But you weren't someone that sought after touch when you were going through something. You retreated. You isolated yourself. At least, that's what you did when you were with her. She might never know that there are other sides to you. Especially not after tonight.
“Okay,” she says just above a whisper. “Okay,” she repeats as she walks to the exit. “I'm sorry for everything, again,” she says as she steps into the hallway. “Please, don't do anything stupid.” She disappears, leaving the door open.
You stare at the door as you think of what you want to do. You think about getting into your car but you're afraid that if you do, you'll drive into a tree or worse. You'll drive to Jean’s house. You couldn't do that to Rachel. You check that you have your keys, phone, and wallet in your pockets and then you lock up your apartment on your way out. Stepping out onto the concrete sidewalk outside of your apartment building you look every which way. There are bars and restaurants down each way. You could easily find somewhere to drink but that's not what you want to do. So you start walking.
You walk aimlessly for a long time. You walk until your legs begin to ache and your feet begin to hurt. You find yourself at a dock, there are many boats parked but you find a space without one. You sit at the ledge and look out to the water and breathe. The smell of the salty water is calming. You watch as the water moves causing the reflection of the lights to dance. You allow yourself to grieve because even though you didn't want another child, you contributed to almost bringing another life into the world. It was a weird feeling. You're not upset with Daisy for making her choice, you are grateful to her. But you still feel the loss. You didn't understand the feeling but you let yourself feel it. Because even though you don't understand why you feel the way that you do, you don't have to justify or explain it to anyone. You can just allow yourself to feel whatever you want to.
Then you grieve the relationship you thought you had with Jean. You can't believe she would pull something like this. You don't understand where an idea like that would come from out of her. You don't know how you'll be able to move past this. You feel like she took everything the two of you built together over the years and tore it apart bit by bit. You feel disgusting. You feel used. You take deep breaths as you feel it all. Hoping to release it in a healthy way. It was done, there wasn't much else that you could do about it now except to confront her. You couldn't do that until Sunday.
When you stand up to leave, you slip and fall into the water. You don't try to swim at first. You let the water move you. Trusting that it won't take you away. That it won't pull you under and shorten your time on this planet. You just float in the water. Eventually, the need for air is too great and you swim up until you break the surface with a big gasp.
You pull yourself up onto the dock and start walking home. You are grateful for the bulky phone case when you pull it out of your pocket to find that the phone is perfectly fine. You use the map application in order to navigate your way home. When you arrive at your destination you shower and eat a microwavable meal. You fall into your bed after taking a sleep aid and fall asleep.
The next day, at work, Wanda stops by the job site around lunch time. You walk into Pietro’s office and find the two of them laughing with takeaway meals in front of them. You still feel horrible from the night before. But hearing her laugh heals the wounds inside your heart.
“Y/n!” Wanda grins. “I brought you something too,” she holds up a container. You look at the container and try not to show that you have anything wrong with you by forcing on a smile.
“You didn't have to,” you say as you move to the sink to wash your hands before you join them. “I appreciate this. Is there an occasion I'm not aware of?” You ask as you open the container. The aroma of your favorite food should have made you happier, instead you began to feel nauseous again. It has nothing to do with the food or Wanda's presence and everything to do with the feelings that you're suppressing.
“No, I had lunch with Tony yesterday and it reminded me how much I enjoy having lunch with other people,” she shrugs. “Isolation can become a bit of a downside when it comes to working from home for me sometimes.”
You nod, “Makes sense. Why don't you do the hybrid method? That's what Daisy did with school. She would do online classes and in-person classes,” you suggest before you take a bite. You chew slowly because you do need to eat. No matter how sick you're feeling.
“That's a good idea,” Pietro agrees. “You could finally get better acquainted with the rest of the staff.”
Wanda makes a distasteful face, “I don't know. Getting to know people always leads to getting stuck in the middle of their drama.” She shakes her head. “I think I have enough of my own.”
Pietro shrugs, “You never know. Sometimes it's good to hear about other people's drama. It makes your life sound better. Why do you think I still talk to you? Just because you're my sister?” Wanda’s eyes widen and she punches her brother on his shoulder. “Hey! It's not my fault, you have the most dramatic life out of anyone I know! Y/n,” he nudges you, “back me up here!”
You are snapped out of your head and try to catch up with the conversation. You look between them cluelessly. “I'm sorry, I probably have her beat when it comes to a dramatic life.”
Pietro shakes his head, “What are you talking about? Other than that baby thing, you are relatively drama free. That drama even ended pretty well from what I remember.”
You feel a little light headed as you are reminded by the development of that issue. That there is a new ending to the situation. But you don't tell him. You don't want to tell him. You're not even sure you want to tell Wanda. Not right now at least. You nod, “Yeah, I guess you're right.” You turn to Wanda with a playful shrug. “Sorry, I tried.” Wanda shakes her head and the three of you share a laugh.
“Whatever,” Wanda mutters as she stabs her salad with her fork.
When lunch is over, you walk Wanda out to her car. You're quiet as she talks to you about her current project and updating you on her boys. Then she asks you if you are okay because you seem a little off. You shrug and stop when you reach the car. “Um the other day, Jean and Anna asked me to move my workshop out of their shed,” you scratch behind your ear. Feeling queasy saying her name.
“Your workshop?” Wanda asks as she unlocks her car.
“Yeah, just my tools and some leftover materials that I used on my last order,” you explain as you open the car door for her.
“Last order? What do you mean?” Wanda reaches over and sets her purse on the passenger seat but she doesn't sit in her car just yet.
“I have a little side business. Haven't I told you about it before?” You are surprised with yourself that you haven't mentioned this to her before. You try to think of a time that you might've brought it up before but you come up with nothing. There just hasn't been a reason to. Wanda shakes her head as she does the same. “Ah well, I have a small business. I take custom orders. Anything that someone wants built, I build it.” You pull out your phone and show her your website. “Just something to help with the bills whenever I can't get a lot of hours.” She takes your phone and nods, impressed by the stuff you have built in the past. “Anyway, the reason it's on my mind, they want me to move my stuff out of the shed. I can't really afford a place to be able to store everything and be able to have the space to work on orders.”
“I have a shed that, admittedly, could use some care,” she says as she hands you back your phone. “You could set up shop in there, at no cost, of course.”
“Wanda, I can't take you up on that offer,” you resist.
“Yes, you can,” she insists. “Why couldn't you?”
You look away and lick your lips as you are reminded of the night she rejected you. “I would need a lot of access to it when or really if I get another order. I don't know if it's a good idea for us to spend that much time together.”
Wanda nods as she understands where you're coming from. “Technically we wouldn't be spending any of that time together. You'd be working and I would be inside my house or doing something. Come on, we're friends. Let me help you with this.”
You focus your eyes back to hers and you think about just how much she has been helping you. It doesn't feel like there is a balance in the friendship with how often she helps you compared to how often you help her. “I don't know Wanda,” you say as you bite your bottom lip in thought. You can't think of a good reason to say no so you don't. You shrug and nod at her. “Okay, yeah, I will take you up on that offer. Thank you, Wanda. I really appreciate it. Is it okay if I bring it all by on Sunday?”
Wanda smiles and nods, “Of course, come by then. I'm sure the boys will be happy to see you and Rachel again. They were pretty upset about not having you guys there last week.”
“Yeah, Rachel wasn't happy about it either. She prefers cooking with you a lot more than she does with me,” you say with a soft laugh. Wanda smiles at her shoes as she thinks about how much she prefers cooking with you over anyone else. She looks back up and locks eyes with you. She feels like an idiot for pushing you away but she doesn't feel ready to tell you how she feels about you.
“I'll see you on Sunday,” she says and you nod as you repeat her departing words as you step away from her. You wave as she drives off and you go back to work without thinking about your problems with Jean and instead thinking about Wanda and how pretty she looked today.
Saturday night you can't sleep. You toss and turn even after taking a sleep aid. Your heart pounds as your mind races about seeing Jean the next day. You can't stop running through scenarios of confronting her. Are you going to do it right away? Are you going to choke? Is the sight of her going to make you nauseous? Or worse. Is it going to cause you to actually vomit? Will you be able to see her without getting angry? You're going to have to be there longer than you want to because you have to load your truck with your stuff but are you going to make it through? You don't know. And you're exhausted by the anticipation.
You are lucky to get in a nap before you have to pick up Rachel. You have to drink two cups of coffee before you feel awake enough to drive. On the drive over, you are yet again practicing what you're going to say when you arrive. You yawn as you park and shake your head to get you ready to knock on the door. You stare at the house as you try to remember that she is your friend. She was your favorite person once upon a time. You loved her. But it's all tainted now. She has slowly burned you out and ripped you to shreds.
You step out of your truck and knock on the door. You look at the welcome mat to keep yourself calm as you wait. When there's no response, you ring the doorbell. You take slow breaths as you try to clear your mind. You can't think about what Daisy told you in front of Rachel.
Anna is the one to open the door. Since Daisy hadn't mentioned her, you can tell yourself that she isn't someone that you should be upset with and you can tell yourself that she has no idea. At least until you can figure out when to confront them about this. You walk through the house to get to your stuff in the backyard but when you bring the tools to your truck you go through the gate that leads to the front instead of going through the house. You don't say anything to Anna, you don't even ask why she's the only person you've seen so far. You just focus on your task. Move your tools from the shed to your truck. When you're done, Rachel greets you with a tight hug that you are happy to reciprocate. It's a relief to see her and to hold her.
Jean is on the phone in the kitchen and you don't feel the desire to interrupt her conversation just to confront her. You decide to leave it alone. You take Rachel to the car and help her get inside. “Did you hear the good news?” Rachel asks as you get settled in the driver's seat. You shake your head and ask her what the good news is. “I'm having a baby brother! My mommies said so. I'm going to be a big sister!” Your heart stops as your entire body freezes. How could they tell her something like that? How do they even know what the gender would have been?
“Wait right here, I need to ask your mommies something,” you tell your daughter with a tight voice. You climb out of the truck and walk to the front door. This time, you enter without knocking and walk up to Jean as she ends her phone call. “How dare you,” you start bitterly. Jean is thrown off and her confused smile drops. “How dare you put Daisy in that kind of position. How dare you tell our daughter that she's going to be a big sister before there is a baby. There isn't going to be a baby! There never should have been. You shouldn't have tried to talk Daisy out of her decision. You are a cisgendered female, you should have some respect when it comes to another woman making a decision about her life and her body. Not only that, you are my best friend. Or at least you used to be. I thought you would have enough respect for me to tell me the moment you found out about Daisy's pregnancy. I was mistaken to believe the lies you told me but I will not allow that behavior to affect our daughter. So you better be a thousand percent certain when it comes to something as big as a sibling coming into her life before you tell her anything!” You take a split second to decide whether or not to continue and with how upset you are, you can't stop yourself. “And I was going to let Daisy tell you this herself but I will do what you should have done. She went through with her decision. There won't be a baby. Now I suggest that you either start looking into fostering or adopting — no. You should get your fucking head checked be clearly you are out of your fucking mind, Jean!” Jean slaps you clear across your face. The slap was loud and the impact was hard. It stings and you lift your hand up to your face in shock.
“Get out!” Anna shouts from behind you. You are shaking with anger. You weren't aware that you had gotten so furious with the situation. You try to say more but Anna won't let you. Jean is in tears and looking down at her hand, shocked by her own actions. Anna steps in between you and her wife. “Get the fuck out of my house Y/n! Get out! Get out!” She starts pushing you backwards. You hold your hands up and shake your head.
“You're both unbelievable. I'm going,” you walk out after Anna's last shove. You can't believe the reactions. You can't believe the lack of accountability. You storm across the yard and climb into the truck.
“What's wrong?” Rachel asks in a scared little voice. You feel terrible seeing her shaken up. You sigh and close your eyes before you look at her.
“Nothing sweetheart,” you say as softly as you can. “Nothing, let's just… we're going to go home and I'm going to go for a run and then maybe we'll stop by Wanda’s house to drop all of this stuff off later. How does that sound?” You try to make her feel more at ease.
“Why can't we go to Ms. Wanda’s first? I really want to see Tommy and Billy and tell them about the good news!” She asks innocently and you have to close your eyes to calm down. You open them and start the engine. You need to distance yourself from this house. From Jean and Anna. You're starting to wonder if your ex’s behavior is being instigated by her wife. You aren't sure how you can find out. But it's definitely something to look into with the lengths she's gone through to make this idea of theirs happen.
“Honey, mommies were mistaken. You're not going to be a big sister,” you correct her.
Rachel frowns, “Yes I am. They said so. My mommies don't lie to me, Baba.”
“I know that sweetheart, that's why I said that they were mistaken. That's not the same as lying, it's more like they didn't know what they were telling you wasn't true,” you take a second to glance at her. “Does that make sense to you?” Rachel nods with tears building in her eyes. “Awe baby girl, what's wrong?”
“I really wanted to be a big sister,” she says as she wipes her tears. You feel bad as you continue to drive.
“I know sweetie, I know,” you sigh as you start to reconsider their proposal. But you quickly shove that thought out of your mind. You cannot allow your daughters disappointment to change your mind on a matter of this magnitude. “Do you still want to go to Wanda’s first?”
“Yes please,” she says as she continues to wipe her face. “I want to see my friends.” You want to calm down before you see Wanda. You don't want to pull her into more of your problems. But you feel bad enough for taking away your daughters smile. So you suck it up and drive to Wanda’s house. You text her that you're on the way when you stop at a red light.
When you pull up the driveway, Wanda is waiting outside with a smile. She knocks on the window and talks as you roll it down. “I don't care what you say, I'm helping you move the stuff into the shed.” Her wide smiles drops to an expression of concern when she sees the red mark on your cheek. She looks further into the truck and sees Rachel's face is red from crying. “What happened?” She looks you over and you shake your head.
“Nothing, why do you ask?” You say, oblivious to the evidence on your face while you try to hide your frustration from the day.
Wanda leans in as close as she can get. “Have you looked in the mirror?” She says in a low whisper.
Your eyebrows knit together and you frown before you drop the visor mirror to check yourself out. Then you see the mark and you shut it. You want to curse yourself for not going home first. “I can't talk about it right now. Can we start moving this stuff?” Wanda nods and allows you to get out of the vehicle. You walk to the other side to help Rachel down before you start to take stuff down from your truck. You hand some boxes to Wanda and she leads the way to her shed. She talks the entire way about how she spent her entire Saturday reorganizing the entire space. You hardly listen as your mind replays the last hour. How Jean slapped you and Anna pushed you. How angry you felt — no, feel.
Once the pair of you set the boxes down Wanda asks again what happened and the words come out of you before you can stop them. You tell her everything from running into Jemma to what happened with Jean just moments ago. Wanda is quiet as she stands there and processes. She doesn't look at you as she does. You shift your weight uncomfortably as you wait for a response. When she finally moves you don't expect her to hug you the way that she does. She holds you tightly in a warm embrace that breaks your walls down.
“I'm so sorry,” she whispers against your chest as you break down in tears and she rubs your back. You let her hold you and comfort you in ways that you hardly ever allowed anyone to take care of you. You allow her to witness a side of vulnerability that you rarely let many see.
After a bit of time the both of you stop crying. You and Wanda sneak into the house and each go to a bathroom in order to wash your faces and then get back to work. Together the truck gets emptied of the tools and materials in an impressive amount of time and was put away in the shed. When the both of you finish, Wanda gets a phone call and excuses herself to answer. You follow her inside to wash your hands.
You get a message from Nebula and you feel slightly guilty when you do. You open the message and you clench your jaw as she admits how much she likes you and asks when she can see you next. The two of you went out on a date shortly after Wanda rejected you. It was an okay date but with everything going on, it doesn't feel right. You close your phone and head upstairs to check on the kids. As you do so you pass Wanda's office. Her door is slightly ajar. You don't mean to listen in but when you hear the words, “Thank you for introducing me… yeah he has made me feel things I haven't felt before,” and, “I feel like he understands me better than I understand me.” You feel your heart sink. You continue to walk to check on the kids as you try to tell yourself that you didn't hear the entire conversation so you couldn't possibly know what she was talking about. But a small voice in the back of your head is telling you that she rejected you because she found someone else. A reality that you'll have to accept if you and Wanda are going to continue to be friends.
After you check on the kids you schedule another date with Nebula for the next Sunday after you drop Rachel off. Then you continue on with your night with Wanda and the kids. Doing your best to keep your mind off of everything else.
Chapter 19
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#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff au#wanda marvel#fanfiction#messedupfan#wanda fanfic#wanda x you#wanda x reader#wanda x y/n#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x y/n#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader
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Cinnamon
Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader (AU) Series
Part One: Small Moments
Intro:
Spring 1981
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Harvard University. The only ivy league school in the state.
Acceptance rate: 14%
Graduation rate: 97%
Tolerability of your mostly fake, pretentious peers: 0%
But your best friend Matt?
He makes it worth sticking around.
content warnings for this chapter: angst, mentions of depression and mental health issues
a/n: this is gonna be a long friends to lovers/slow burn series cause i have so much planned for this story so buckle up :) <3
word count: 2,098
April 1981
The clack of your heels on the wooden floor echoes through the conference hall as you make your way to class, the last one of the day. You speed up a little once you glance at the clock on the wall, realizing you were now late. For the third time this week.
It was unlike you to be late at all, but the looming pressure of final exams and the recent concerning phone calls you’ve been receiving from your mother has you more than a little stressed. You were sleeping later than you normally do and waking up with headaches and worry filling your mind.
The weeks seemed to have blurred together since the spring semester started and now with summer rapidly approaching, it was beginning to feel like too much.
The ding of the last bell rings the moment you reach the door of your English class, and you quietly slip inside, Ms. Ellmore’s voice sounding as she begins her opening lesson of the day. No one really notices you’ve even walked in as you take your usual seat in the back corner.
You can’t help but notice the empty seat next to you that’s usually occupied by your best friend. You feel the slight sting of disappointment in your chest that you’ve felt each time you come into class and he’s not here. Which is more often than you would like to admit.
English Literary Forms was the only class you had with him this year and being that it was the last class of the day, you patiently waited and endured the whole day until you could see him, savoring the small moments you two could share together. You occasionally saw him during lunch, or during assembly once a week that was held by the student body president. But lately he has been absent more than usual and when he was here, you saw him even less than last year.
Last year, you had two classes together. Both of which were back-to-back periods. He would walk with you once Chemistry was finished, taking the long way just so you both could talk more before being confined into the stuffy room of the next period, English Lit class, and the strict disposition of Mr. Lawrence preventing you two from any ongoing form of verbal communication.
It was these moments you held onto that kept you sane.
Fighting to contain your laughter while he makes funny faces at you from across the assembly hall, mocking Amanda’s uptight mannerisms as she rattles on about the recent incident of plagiarism and student policies.
Swapping your apple with his orange at lunch while he sits next to you, your textbooks open on the table since you insisted you help each other study on your short break. He always rolled his eyes at your persistent need to use every bit of free time dedicated to your studies but he never turned down the opportunity to help you.
Strolling through the hallways of school, often being passed up by students who were practically running to get to the next class, but you two paid no mind, lost in conversation about anything and everything. Sometimes, he would walk so close to you that his shoulder would brush yours, and you would find yourself wishing you weren’t wearing a sweater so you could feel the contact against your bare skin, even if he was also wrapped up in the standard crimson of the school letterman.
These moments with your best friend are something you cherished, memories to hold onto when you felt yourself slipping into the darkness again. Ever since you met him at the beginning of freshman year, you felt comfortable with him, happy even, an emotion you didn’t find yourself experiencing too often.
Sure, you had other “friends.” A handful of other students you were cordial with, that you could occasionally engage in meaningless conversation. But it just wasn’t the same. Aside from your roommate, he was the only person at this school you actually enjoyed spending time with. You had always been a shy person, introverted and uninterested in most kids your age. You were basically isolated in high school, hyper focused on your studies so you could earn a scholarship to an ivy league university.
But he kept you on your toes, bringing out a side of you that was a little more relaxed. It was easy to talk to him about personal issues or familial problems. He was easy to trust.
You hear the teacher call your name, breaking you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t realized it was discussion time, and she had asked a question regarding the chapter of Wuthering Heights the class was currently reading.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” you ask her, and a few students snicker under their breath, some even giving you looks. Ms. Ellmore smiles, her cheerful demeanor unwavering even despite your clear lack of attention.
She repeats her question, and you answer with perfect accuracy and thoughtfulness, focusing your attention back to the literature instead of the person you can’t seem to stop thinking about.
❧🝮✿🝮✿❧
The hazy pink of the setting sun fills the sky as you walk towards your dorm, your book bag bouncing on your hip from the lazy way it’s slung over your shoulder. You had spent a couple hours in the library after last period, reading until your eyes grew heavy. It’s usually how you spent your evenings, especially when you felt sad or alone. But even then, the things that bring you joy can be uninteresting at times.
The thing about depression is that it always comes in waves. For you, at least. One week you could be a little more excited to go to your classes, to read your favorite book at the wicker desk in the library, to go for morning walks with Celine your roommate, making fun of the jocks that practice on the lacrosse field, their misogynism practically vibrating off their sweaty bodies.
It goes away for a while. That dark feeling.
And then the next week, you find it harder to get out of bed, to will your limbs awake and carry you to start the day. Your purpose feels lost, swept away by the incessant feeling of wanting to crawl out of your own skin, to leave a world that you don’t even feel is worth being in. And it can feel that way for the whole month.
Students stare at you in the hallways sometime or in class, and you’re sure you’ve heard them whisper a time or two behind your back. They wonder why you’re so quiet, why you’re always alone, what could have possibly happened in your life for you to be so… weird.
But you could care less. You were at this school for the sole purpose of achieving the one goal you haven’t lost sight of since you decided to pursue it. And your mother didn’t work two jobs while raising three kids to help pay for the remainder of the costs after your scholarship, just for you to quit over some mediocre, trust fund dickheads.
So, you do your best to manage your mental health. Even when your favorite person might not be around to make it easier.
You open the door to your room, Celine already in her bed, hair secured away in her bonnet and her current flavor of the week talking in her ear, the pink rotary phone you both share pressed against her face.
You both exchange a warm smile as you remove your shoes and set them in the rack by the door, walking to your bed across from her.
You sit on the mattress in your checkered skirt and tucked in collared school shirt, watching in amusement as she laughs at what the guy’s saying, twirling the telephone cord around her finger. You're sure she would tell you all about it later.
Before you know it, you’re dozing off, too tired to remember to get up and change your clothes or even brush your teeth and wash your face.
It’s a few hours later when a sharp tapping on your window pulls you from your sleep, and you rub the grogginess from your eyes to see a boy with long brunette hair behind it, a cheeky grin on his face.
“Matt?” you whisper, and slide the bottom of the window up, allowing him to climb through. Luckily, your dorm was on the first floor, and this made it easier for him to sneak in on nights like this.
Before you can say anything else, he’s in your bed next to you in seconds, climbing under your duvet. Every dorm has twin beds, but you and Matt seem to fit on it together perfectly, with a sliver of amount of space still between you.
“Hey kid. How was your day?” He whispers his eyes crinkling from the smile still on his face as he places his hands under his head, facing you on your pillow.
“Bearable.” You reply, taking in his features for a moment before letting your eyes slip close, too tired to keep them open. “Where you been?” You mumble back.
“I was at my parent’s house today… my mom needed me.” He tells you, and you pick up on the somber tone in his voice, your eyes opening slightly to catch the matching expression on his face.
“And how is she doing?” You ask. He looks away from you now, his eyes traveling to the sheets of your bed. “She’s a little better. At least I think she is.” He says.
His parents’ house was in Boston, very close to Harvard, so it was no problem for him to drive over there when needed.
One of the many things about Matt that you had come to know was that he was very family oriented and would see them every chance he got. But he was also anti social, and often used visiting them as an excuse to escape from school. Lately however, his mother had just suffered the loss of her sister and his dad was away for work so much that she needed him more than usual.
“It will take time.” You whisper, and he nods, his next response straying from the subject. “Guess who I saw on the way over here?”
You raise an eyebrow, curious as to what he’s going to say. “Who could be up at this time of night?” You ask.
His face lights up in amusement as he watches you closely for your reaction. “Amanda Ridgefield. She was leaving her dorm room with one of those bonehead lacrosse players.”
You burst into giggles, covering your mouth before you’re any louder and look over at Celine, making sure you didn’t wake her. Matt laughs, tugging on your shoulder so you face him again. “Don’t worry, she can sleep through a car crash.” He chuckles. You know it’s true, remembering the many nights you two had ended up in fits of laughter while she slept soundly.
“What was she doing?” You question. “Come on, don't be naive. I think you know what they're up to.” He responds, a smirk on his face. You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean.”
It was hard to imagine Amanda Ridgefield, student body president and notorious judgmental tyrant, sneaking around to have sex with a lacrosse player. She constantly preached that students should practice abstinence and publicly voiced her opinions that girls who sleep around are nothing but whores.
Literally her words.
“Yeah, she’s no better than the rest of us… it was hilarious to see though.” Matt says, and his eyes skim over your school uniform that sticks out from the top of your blanket. “Fell asleep early again?”
You nod, your eyelids once again slipping shut. “I can’t wait for summer break.”
Your voice is laced with fatigue, your lips parted and calm settling in the soft features of your face as Matt watches you fall asleep.
You barely hear him when he whispers, “Get some rest, kid. I’ll see you soon.”
You forget to ask him if he’s even coming to school tomorrow, if he plans on missing even more days now. If he knows how much it hurts when you don’t see him in the desk next to you in English.
Still, it was nice to see him, even if it was for a moment.
But you let yourself fall back into a deep sleep next to him, and you certainly don’t feel his hand brushing lightly over your face, feathering a stroke over your left cheek before quietly leaving the way he came through your bedroom window.
It's always small moments like this that Matt realizes he appreciates the most.
taglist: <3
@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @mattscoquette @h3arts4harry @chrizznmetswife @bambi-slxt
[if you would like to be added/taken off pls reply to this post or comment on my masterlist. and if u weren’t tagged, it wouldn’t let me add you :/ ]
#Spotify#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo
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We Should NOT Be Doing This
Another one I found! I will most likely change the song they dance to but for now, I kept everything like it was with some minor changes. JenKook alone in a practice room, dancing. I guess a little suggestive at the end! Not sure when I'd put it in the story but a smol brainstorm! Years ago when I watched Tinashe's Company video, I loved it and thought about JenKook doing something like this.
---------
“You ready?” Jungkook asked, stretching his arms with a huge smile.
“A little. I just hope I get this right.” Jen responded.
“Hey, you’re dancing with me. You’ll get it right.” he winked.
She giggled and nodded before going to pick a song on her phone. Jen had asked him to help her with this routine she’d been learning for fun. It so happened to have grinding in it and Jungkook was more than happy to help with that, making the dance a duet instead. After putting her music on shuffle, ironically Body Party by Ciara came on as they glanced at each other with knowing looks.
“Wow.” Jungkook chuckled softly.
“Well, this song brings back memories.” she set the phone down and walked over to him. “I remember being so nervous the first time we had to do something like this. I kept freaking out on the inside and you kept telling me to relax.”
Getting behind her, he kissed her cheek. “Not so nervous anymore, huh?”
“Yeah, thanks to you. All right, let’s run it from the top and find a rhythm.”
Going over the choreography, things went smoothly and then they went to focus on the grinding. With her back against him, he guided her as they made sure their movements were in sync. As time went on, her hips came to a halt when she heard him groan softly near her ear.
“You good back there?” she asked as she felt him hold her hips tighter.
“I’m great,” he answered with some strain in his voice.
“You sure? Sounds like you’re struggling to me.” she teased.
“Real funny.”
“I mean if you can’t handle what I got back there, just let me know.” she decided to grind against him abruptly.
“Jennie,” he warned in a hiss which made her snicker.
That sparked a competitive streak in him. He wanted to prove to her that he could handle everything. Suddenly, she felt his hands begin to wander and his warm breath on her neck as it made her tremble softly.
Maybe she had spoken too soon.
“F—focus, Kook.”
“I am focused. What are you doing?” a playful glint was in his eyes from what she had seen in the mirror.
“Okay, now you’re just distracting.”
“Nah, you’re just getting a little sensitive.”
“Oh, okay. This the game we’re playing, now—ah! Behave!” she exclaimed with laughter when he abruptly squeezed her ass.
She pulled away from his grasp and smacked him on the chest as he kept giggling. “You play too much!” she complained with an amused smile.
After playing around and repeating the routine a few more times, they decided to perform it. Say It by Tony Lanez blared out in the studio as they got in position.
“Five, six, seven, eight,” she called out as they began to dance.
He was behind her, following her movements as they became in sync.
You gon have to do more than just (say it)
You gon have to do less when you (do it)
The two glanced at each other with smiles as they danced next to each other, having fun vibing off each other’s energy.
And you know, you know
And you know, in this foreign car let it go
Grabbing him by the shirt, she turned her back to him, pressing her body against his. They slowly grind to the beat with his hands on her hips. After body rolling behind her, he had made her laugh when he whispered in her ear, encircling his arms around her waist.
But now you know that I want you, and you want me
But I don’t know, you know I know
Getting back into the dance, they continue their routine, with occasional strong chest pops and freestyle dancing.
Say it baby, do it baby
Show it baby, prove it baby
Crouching down, Jungkook crouched close behind her, following her. The dance was going so well thanks to him. Her movements were solid and on beat and the best part was that she was enjoying herself.
When she slowly body rolled as his hand wandered down her body, Jennie was gently pushed down on the floor unexpectedly.
Bewildered that she was looking up at the ceiling, she turned her head to Jungkook, staring at him in confusion. “What the heck are you doin—“
Cut off, she was kissed instantaneously as he hovered over her. He had been wanting to do that all day. This was the most time they spent alone this month thanks to his hyungs always being around and their busy schedule. Having this moment was enough and he wanted to take advantage while they could. To kiss and touch her without the rest of the guys around to tease them.
As their kiss deepened, the sultry beat and last verse played out while she ran a hand through his sweaty hair. The routine was long forgotten as they got lost in each other.
All I’m tryin’ say
I just wanna see your body move in different ways
He soon began to travel down to her neck as her breath quickened. Whatever had gotten into him, she was sure enjoying it. But they were in the studio, what if someone walked in?
All I wanna do is, come close to you
You make me come thru, I get so close to you
As the song faded out, her music shuffled to The Weeknd’s Acquainted, playing in the background while they continued their heated lip lock.
“Jungkook…we can’t do this here, we’re going to get caught,” she warned breathlessly, gripping tightly onto his shirt.
“The music is loud and I locked the door. I have been trying to get you alone all month. We’re alone here, relax. We’re fine.”
"You want to do this, here?" she looked at him in surprise as she squirmed under his touch. "We are not doing this in the studio,"
"You want me to stop?" he searched her eyes for any reluctance.
"I...we're in a dance studio!"
"Alone," he grinned and went back to kiss around her neck, making her sigh. "With loud music to drown out any sounds,"
"Ah...we should not be doing this..." she sighed under his touch.
"Tell me to stop and I will stop," he whispered in her ear.
"Don't stop," she moaned softly and closed her eyes.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes..."
"Okay," he easily lifted her from the floor as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
With his lips never leaving hers, he walked straight to the mirror, pressing her up against it.
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Confection
For the holiday this year I offer you a culinary AU I’ve been thinking about for basically forever but only now started to write down. It’ll be in parts, as I chip away in the spare minutes, with littler bits of story at a time, as when I first ventured contributions to this surpassingly wonderful fandom, years ago. I miss those long-gone Bering-and-Wells days: the speed, the inventiveness that so many brought to bear... anyway, however many parts this ends up being, it’s all just for fun. (And maybe a little ontological inquiry. Also just for fun.)
In any case, on this random Sunday, I wish everyone their preferred form(s) of activity and/or rest, as appropriate. Good feelings. Whatever it is we’re here for.
Confection
“Cutthroat.”
So says the talking head on screen in response to the offscreen question, “Describe your style in the kitchen in one word, Chef Helena Wells.”
****
“Chef Myka Bering, describe your style in the kitchen in one word.”
“One word? That’s a challenge. Diligent? I’m really diligent. Or, no: focused. I definitely think ‘focused’ is more descriptive.”
Senior Producer Claudia Donovan, upon viewing this footage, had said to the editor sitting next to her, “Can you cut that to ‘focused’ and make it sound decisive?” But then she let herself have a second thought. “You know what? Leave it all in. Compare and contrast.”
Cutthroat Wells first, indecisively diligent and/or focused Bering second... the third competitor’s response had been, in retrospect, hilarious. Claudia did appreciate how radically his pronouncement had failed to match his performance: “Awesome,” Walter Sykes had described himself, with no sense of irony whatsoever. He’d been cast as a sacrificial lamb in the first place, but Claudia still snorted at the completely useless dudebro swagger.
The fourth chef, Artie Nielsen, had been brusque rather than bro, but with no less swagger. “Classic,” he’d said, like the idea of anybody even asking the question was a “don’t you know who I am” insult. The editor angled a glance at Claudia and said, “You were real with him about what show he was on, right?”
“The old-school thing sets up the B plot,” Claudia told her. “He’s known all three judges for decades.”
“Don’t you think the A’s a lot more fun?” the editor said. She clicked quick on the Wells “cutthroat” clip—and Claudia had never in her life heard such an all-facts no-swagger saying of a word—followed by a bit of the Bering: “I definitely think,” Chef Myka said, as if in answer to the editor’s question.
“I definitely think,” Claudia echoed decisively.
****
“The name of our show,” Steve Jinks explains, as he does every week at the start of the program proper, after the contestants have described their styles, “is ‘This Without That.’ What this means, contestants, is that in each of three rounds, you will be asked to prepare a classic dish... but without its defining ingredient.”
****
“You gotta do it,” Pete Lattimer had said. “Because it’d be so cool. Gottagottagotta.”
Myka was leaning against the at-last-closed-for-the-night door of the restaurant where they both worked—Myka as sous chef, Pete grilling and frying—and she wanted to ignore him, for her fatigue weighted her such that she could barely convince her spine to support her head. Forcing that head to lift, accompanied by actually working her jaw, felt well beyond possible.
And she would have ignored him, but she was the idiot who’d made the mistake of telling him about “it”: a producer from “This Without That,” the wildly popular cooking competition show, had called to express interest in having her compete next month (next month being August) for their Christmas championship, to air in December.
Having been that idiot, she couldn’t ignore him, but she was regretting the telling, so now she said, “No I don’t. I don’t ‘gotta’ do anything.”
“But you wanna.”
“I don’t ‘wanna’ do anything either. And as for this, I don’t want to do it.”
First, television. Second, a competition. Third, a Christmas competition. In August. She didn’t want to. In fact she’d rather have gnawed off her knife hand than do it. But then Pete moved from “gotta” and “wanna” (Myka hated those pseudo-word elisions) to “hafta,” adding “for the restaurant”—the one they planned to partner to open someday, when they had saved enough money and/or could talk investors into believing in them—and Myka gave in. “I’ll try,” she told him, and she meant she’d try not to tank her upcoming interview with the producer, Claudia Donovan. She told him that too... but for integrity’s sake, she added, “I hate the whole idea of that show. ‘This Without That.’ It seems so dumb.”
He waved a hand at her, but slowly, showing that he was tired too. “Little piece of non-tanking advice: don’t say that to this producer. Besides, a hugeity-huge-huge audience loves it, which means it’s smart. Say that instead.”
That, she did ignore. “Smart? It’s insipid.” Mimicking Steve Jinks, the show’s host, she quoted his dismissal of each round’s losing contestant: “Unfortunately, this competition will continue without you.”
“I knew you watched it,” Pete crowed.
Ugh. “Once.” She didn’t tell him why. “But it bothered me.”
“Bothered you because you knew you could do better at making a thing without its major thing, right? Say that’s why.” He added, “And by the way, I know you could too. So you should say it twice.”
His faith was sweet, but she told him the truth: “No. It bothered me ontologically.” She didn’t expect him to understand, but she tried to explain anyway. “Beef Wellington without the beef, for example, like they did in the one I saw. That’s just... Something Else Wellington. And then at the end, the judges pick whose Something Else Wellington they like best. The beef part—the constitutive element!—falls by the wayside. The thing itself doesn’t even matter anymore.”
Pete shook his head. “It’s like you don’t understand games. Something Else Wellington is the whole idea. If it isn’t Something Else Wellington, then it isn’t Beef Wellington without the beef. You’re just ticked that the judges don’t spend all their tasting time splitting ontological hairs about how close to beef that Something Else really is. Or isn’t. Whichever way makes you happier, but it doesn’t matter, because that isn’t what they’re there to do.”
Myka hadn’t known he would—could—come up with “splitting ontological hairs.” That was another point in favor of her trying not to tank.
Also (and she’d been thinking about this since the call from Claudia Donovan): her parents. They were reasons that were maybe (okay, probably) on par with “for the restaurant,” because if she could she impress them by being on television... she really did hate the clichéd nature both of their objections to her career—their dismay that she wasn’t “using that brain”—and of her response, a heels-dug-in “I’ll show you.” These several years on, they hadn’t yet acknowledged being shown. Maybe television would be the charm. Maybe if they could switch a channel and discover Myka there, doing what she did... maybe that would finally do that work of showing.
Pete said, “They judge based on creativity, too—how out-there a Something Else idea you come up with. Imagination what? Plus you gotta do it fast. Thinking on your feet, right? Don’t you love all that?”
As adept as Pete could be at saying the wrong thing, he was also, sometimes, exceptional at saying the right thing. “Using my brain?” she queried, just to make sure.
He nodded, and Myka was pretty sure it was because he knew the history: the family, the pain points. She’d inflicted versions of it on him so many times. “Think it’s a smart idea now?” he asked, at his most canny.
Show them not only by being on television, doing what she did, but also by “using that brain” on television. To do what she did. To do it better than other people. To at last, in the end, show them. “Maybe,” she hedged, but her overriding thought was Yes, yes, at long last yes.
Not for one instant did it occur to her that she might not win.
****
Claudia had started on TWT in the casting department, over two years ago. Even though evaluating potential talent wasn’t technically her job anymore, she did like to tinker. Particularly if she sensed a good story brewing.
When Myka Bering walked in—no, she loped in, her legs looking about as long as Claudia was tall—Claudia really hoped the good-story pings she’d been sensing were real radar.
There was truly no time like the right-now to see what was what, so Claudia said, first thing after introductions: “Just FYI, Helena Wells is already locked as a cheftestant on this one. I hear you know each other.”
Myka, who’d been settling into the chair across from Claudia’s desk, froze.
So far so good, Claudia thought. But then she thought again, as she observed Myka’s dart of eyes, followed by a small-but-visible twist of neck, both signaling obvious discomfort: No... so far so spectacular.
TBC
#bering and wells#Warehouse 13#fanfic#Confection#AU week#holiday (but not yet Gift Exchange)#I find it unbelievable that 2022 is coming to a close#also unbelievable is how long so many people have maintained themselves on high alert#I among them#so maybe a silly AU#featuring some silly people#will help close this year and begin the next one#in a relaxing and/or mind-numbing way#also I've been writing Christmas stories for this fandom since 2014#and I see no point in stopping now#regardless of who cares at this point#FYI this will bonk around among the cooking show as it unfolds on TV#and what happened before filming#and what happened during#and then after#so I hope they can make those jumps and distinctions make sense#anyway it's all about the reveals#which in this case probably won't be overly revelatory#PS you get a point if you know how H's opening line is related to Goncharov
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Virgin Choso who doesnt know why he feels hot one day when he looks at you, something twitching in his pants and his face turns pink from…embarrassment? He doesnt understand these new feelings that come with having a human body, and he doesn’t know why he’s reluctant to ask someone about it. Not you atleast, he couldn’t ask you. What if you thought he was weird? or creepy? why does he even care? he’s never cared about silly things like what others think of him.
When he eventually confides in his younger brother Yuji, he tells him something he can’t pick whether is terrifying or exciting. “its normal bro, you just like her,” he tells him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “and when you like somebody they often make you feel uh…horny,” Yuji said grinning. Choso gets more and more embarrassed as Yuji tells him the basics of the birds and the bees.
Now Choso was in his bed, rock hard in his underwear after thinking about you for a little too long. He thought of what Yuji told him to do when his cock starts feeling weird, he had to ‘jerk off’ which his brother had told him would ’help the ache in his dick but make his feelings for you worse’
Choso sighed and reached a hand down to touch his cock, not yet reaching into his underwear. He sucked in a breath, it was terribly sensitive. pathetic.
He thought about you as he rubbed himself with his hand, thought about how you look when you laugh, about your pretty fucking eyes. The prettiest ones he’d ever seen in his almost 200 years of living. He shudders, and when he looks down again there’s a wet spot forming in his underwear, right where his tip was placed.
He feels dirty, he feels like a pervert. Thinking about his pretty friend while doing something so nasty. It feels wrong. But he needs it, he craves it.
He reluctantly pulls down his boxers, watching as his cock springs up, and it hurts. He thinks of you again, about that one time you stumbled over your own feet, and put your pretty little hand on his chest so you wouldn’t fall.
He touches his tip and he whines. fuck. it’s red and sensitive and little beads of what he assumes is pre cum, leaks out.
He starts playing with himself, grasping his length softly and stroking it once. He lifts up his tshirt and puts it in his mouth, to not make too much noice. it feels so fucking good already.
He begins stroking it slowly. up and down, just doing what feels good. He spits in his hand and brings it back to his cock to continue jerking off. He whimpers.
He’s so desperate for you to like him, for you to touch him, for him to be yours. And for you to be his. He closes his eyes, and he pictures you next to him, your smaller hand replacing his own, stroking him, telling him you love him. He thinks about kissing your pretty lips, holding your cute face in his hands. He thinks about being inside you,
his dick twitches as he groans, spilling his sticky load on his stomach while his whole body shakes. He stares at his mess, breathing heavily while he comes down from his high.
fuck. He wants you so bad, he needs you.
and Yuji was right, the ache in his now softening dick is gone, but the ache in his heart only got worse.
part two here
#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x you#kamo choso x reader#choso fluff#choso smut#choso x you#jjk choso#choso kamo#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#choso x reader#choso x female reader#choso x gn reader
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The eye of the hurricane. I like to think Cassandra sometimes called the brothers by the nicknames their dad used, given they were probably pretty close before his passing.
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MASTER POST
Man oh man, this one was way messier and off model than my last few updates but whatever, we got to keep this ball rolling! Life's been crazy so I've had to take some unwanted breaks in between updates. Thanks everyone for your patience as always!
One thing I wanted in this flashback was to really get a sense of how the brothers worked as an experienced team with Leo at the helm as a proper leader. It's something we never got to see much of in Rise and I felt it was important to include since half the team is already gone by the time of Replica. Team Dynamics Ted Talk under the cut!
We know from Casey Jr that Leo stressed the importance of listening to your team. A big part of that also means knowing how to communicate with them in general.
With Michelangelo, he keeps it short and succinct, trusting his brother to know what he's doing when in his element. This trust goes a long way with Mikey, having spent years of his youth as the baby striving for the respect he felt he deserved. Leo knows it's best to not bog Mikey down with details, allowing him to improvise as needed. This unspoken freedom has only grown over time as Mikey has dipped deeper into spiritual arts that, frankly, go completely over Leo's head.
The greatest sacrifice Leo has ever made was read Donnie's Big Book of Bad Guy Codes. While he doesn't remember ALL the numbers, he has memorized the ones that matter and it has helped tremendously in avoiding miscommunication with his genius brother. More importantly it silenced any of Donnie's usual belly-aching. As Leo's "twin"/"equal" the two still butt heads from time to time. Donnie respects his brother's authority (mostly) but will still push the boundaries of what he's allowed on a semi-regular basis. Give Donnie an inch and he will take the mile and then find a loop hole that allows him to go twenty miles more. This is partially due to him often being the one left behind at HQ, making the turtle just a TAD stir crazy. Leo does his best to keep him in line regardless.
Big brother Raph will forever and always be big brother to Leo. As such he holds a place of authority in Leo's heart and is someone he still regularly seeks counsel from in both the ways of leadership and more. Raph is always happy to support his younger brother and does a surprisingly good job (albeit after years of practice) of walking the line so as not to step on his brother's toes in the process. At least not since the secret of "the Key" blew up in their faces several years ago. They don't talk about that anymore. Leo is the leader now and he's done a great job in recent years as far as Raph is concerned. He trusts him to make the right call. The two have a close bond and regularly use mind meld to quickly communicate rather than speak ...this will be important to remember for the future.
Hope that overall feeling came through for this group!
#rottmnt replica#replica#rottmnt#save rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#kathaynesart#unpause rottmnt#pregnancy#labor pain#labor#birthing#tmnt#rise of the tmnt#rise leo#rise mikey#rise donnie#rise raph#profanity#is cooch profanity?#I don't know I just found it funny
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to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader 」
content warnings ; fem!reader, use of she/her pronouns, "mother"/"daughter"/"wife" used, parental death, mentions of child abandonment, not too much mention of him being spider-man
contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, hints of pining, just some good ol' fluff for everyone's current favorite dilf, angst w/ comfort, heavy need of editing prob, not beta read
notes ; purely self-indulgent to fuel my love of found family trope apologies
parts: one two three four (tba)
Single Father!Miguel O'Hara whose life revolves essentially around one person—his daughter—but to be one of the heads of America’s largest corporation and bearing the responsibility of keeping Nueva York safe and sound whilst simultaneously being a single father was not exactly something that Miguel O’Hara could juggle so easily. Hell, he’s even surprised that he’s made it so far without losing his absolute sanity considering he couldn’t even recall the last time he was able to rest properly without his attention being wavered to something or someone else.
Single Father!Miguel whose hands always filled to the brim with tasks and obligations. Miguel wished he was able to clone himself twice in order to have three Miguel O’Haras attending to each of his duties soundly, but alas, Alchemax and the matter of his mind can only do so much.
Single Father!Miguel whose ever so lucky to have you as his assistant to at least help with two out of three of them. You entered the picture around three years ago, when he had caught the eye of his superiors and had used his intelligence to their own advantage, disguising it as a promotion of sorts. You were given as some sort of gift to them as a way to help ease his workload and he truly couldn’t be more thankful for your existence—if he doesn’t necessarily show it most of the time from his stoic countenance he masks on 24/7. While not exactly a carbon copy of him, you, by far, come rather close, and Miguel will take whatever comes to him in this day and age.
Single Father!Miguel who notices that you're obedient and demure, though rather soft spoken and a little too apprehensive for his liking at times (he had noticed, before you became his assistant, that your coworkers would shovel their workload onto you and you’d accept with little complaint but evident hesitation; he wonders if it was the given similarities between you and him that made him choose you as his assistant). You dressed well, hung onto every word he said, and spoke out when properly needed. You were a good aid to have around—great, even.
Single Father!Miguel who trusts you as both his assistant and a human being enough to leave his precious daughter in your care knowing full well she would be in good hands. Sometimes Alchemax would work him overtime, sometimes his duties as Spider-Man would interfere. No matter what it was, it delayed him from seeing and attending to his daughter’s needs, and thus, he had asked you once in a while to pick up and babysit his daughter after your usual 9-5.
Single Father!Miguel who, at the beginning, once in a while asked you to pick his daughter up from school. Once in a while turned into occasionally. Occasionally turned into sometimes. Sometimes turned into constantly, and next thing Miguel knew, you were the one that his daughter and teachers would look out for during school pick up time. He didn’t expect that you would become his assistant even outside of work, but you did, and Miguel can’t exactly turn back time now. He’s labeled you as his child’s unofficial secondary caretaker—you’re even listed as an emergency contact.
Single Father!Miguel who thinks you’re too polite for your own good. Miguel had asked you once if this was a burden, being his assistant both in and out of Alchemax, and if it became too much that you were more than free to quit at any sudden time without consequence. You had merely replied that you understood the struggles of being a single parent and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for help when it was needed.
Single Father!Miguel who notices that Gabriella views you more than just her occasional babysitter. When he'd come home late at night, he was usually greeted by you two doing something together, whether it be doing math homework together, baking cookies, you reading aloud to her, or just simply talking, he'd always catch you and her almost... bonding.
Single Father!Miguel who often dwells on the memory of young Gabriella asking innocently why she doesn't have two parents like the rest of her classmates, why she only had one parent compared to everyone else after witnessing she was the odd one out during Family Day. Miguel didn't, and still doesn't, have the courage to tell her that her real mother had abandoned her to him, leaving Miguel in the dust. Miguel used her naivety to his advantage. He disguised it as her being unique compared to others, that some moms just came later in life; she just happened to be a late bloomer.
Single Father!Miguel who always thanks you for staying late tucking Gabriella into bed when he couldn't. You constantly tell him that it's truly no problem, but he insists on thanking you every time and ever so subtly increasing your paycheck. How could he not? Especially considering the fact you always, always whip him up extra dinner that was tucked away for him to eat during the late hours of night.
Single Father!Miguel who feels uneasy as he opens up a fridge to find the said pasta left by you one night in a glass tupperware container, staring at how neatly it’s been plated despite its standard container. He juts it into the microwave as he attempts to ignore how quiet and desolate the kitchen and the apartment is, how the humming of the microwave and the humdrum of the ceiling fan are the only noise that floats through. And when he quietly eats the pasta serving meant for one, he can’t help but gaze longingly at the empty seat across the dining table, where someone else should be seated with him sharing the same meal.
Single Father!Miguel who finally has the time to pick up his daughter after school for once in the school year, but forgot to tell you that you were able to take the rest of the day off. So you, him, Gabriella, and essentially everyone are surprised when both you and Miguel show up to pick Gabriella up after school. One of the teachers goes to gush about how she's excited to meet Gabriella's dad and what a beautiful family you all are, to which you and Miguel, evidently flustered, explain loosely your relationship to each other and how it's merely professional (to one curly-headed third grader, though, it's not—but she'd never tell you and her father that. At least not now.).
Single Father!Miguel who tags along to Gabriella's after school soccer practice for once and despite your protests about you not wanting to interfere "family time", Miguel and his daughter convince you to come watch her like you usually did on Wednesdays. He says he doesn't mind at all and if anything, could use your presence there to ease his nerves since he'd be a newcomer to the soccer parent group.
Single Father!Miguel who watches attentively to how you support Gabriella on the field from the sidelines. He wonders tenaciously if you've fallen into routine of this—from helping her get ready into her uniform to offering small suggestions that help her on the soccer field. He doesn't miss the way her eyes go towards you whenever she did something right and he especially catches onto the fact that she would gush in pure happiness from your approval when you would throw a thumbs up or a delighted nod.
Single Father!Miguel who merely blinks at the compliments given by the two friendly soccer mom next to him.
"Gabi does certainly look a lot like you, but she still has (Y/N)'s beauty and kindness, doesn't she?"
"Oh yes, I agree. Your wife is nothing less of lovely, you know, you're a very lucky man, Mr. O'Hara!"
He's so caught up in trying to process both their words and Gabriella's action on the field, that it doesn't register to him until a few moments later. Miguel attempts to butt in, saying that you're just his subordinate, but when a loud cheer from the other team erupts through, his words fail him.
Single Father!Miguel whose mind is still so stuck on what the soccer moms had said about you that he didn't even realize Gabriella had made the winning goal for today's practice match. Lying through his teeth when asked about if he saw it from her, he realizes that perhaps he should start viewing you in a different light rather than just his daughter's babysitter because the way that Gabriella looks at you with such elation when you congratulate her on her win pulls at his heartstrings ever so slightly.
Single Father!Miguel who contemplates over and over again if he should be doing this—inviting you to Gabriella's first game of the season—the two purchased tickets he held in his fist. You've entered his home a dozen of times, but this would be the first time in three years that he was outside of your own residence. He thinks he's too dressed up for the occasion, cladded in a white button up and black dress pants. A voice asks him if he's his daughter's boyfriend, and Miguel whips around to face an elderly man with a questioned look on his face.
Single Father!Miguel who realizes that it's your father standing in front of him, spare key in hand. He's quick to say no (to your father's disappointment), and introduces himself as your superior. Your father invites Miguel inside your apartment, telling him that you were out fetching groceries and jokingly mentions he uses this opportunity to sneakily fill your cabinets and fridge of food. Your father complains you're too independent for your own good, but he can't exactly blame you—you grew up that way.
Single Father!Miguel who learns that once in your life you were just like his daughter and that in one point in your father's life, he was just like Miguel. All details shared from him, he learns that your mother passed away early in your life due to cancer and ultimately left you and your father to fend for yourselves. Your father tells Miguel that you often had helped out even when you didn't need to—and it doesn't take long for Miguel to piece the pieces together. Why you barely complain about the extra workload, why your father said you're too autonomous, and why all those years ago you not only sympathized with Miguel, but understood his situation as you came from the same exact upbringing.
Single Father!Miguel who listens intently when your father quietly tells him that all he wants for you is to find a good man that would be able to take care of you properly because he believes he wasn't able to. Miguel is quick to reassure him, however, that he did a fantastic job raising a selfless, humble woman that grew to be compassionate and considerate of others' needs, that you were the hardest worker he had ever seen and that he shouldn't discredit himself. Your father goes to examine Miguel for a moment before letting out a loud, haughty laugh in your apartment and jokingly (not really) tells Miguel he hopes that you'll marry him one day, or at least someone like him.
Single Father!Miguel whose resolve dissipates when you walk into your apartment to find your boss and your father talking amongst each other. He sits silently and awkwardly as you complain to your father about dropping by without any warning before you ask him what was he doing here in the first place. Your father takes his leave, winking at Miguel with a glint in his eye, leaving you two in your apartment alone.
Single Father!Miguel who finally gathers up the courage to ask you if you'd like to attend Gabriella's soccer game with him. You interject with visible hesitation, telling him that it was implied that it was a family-only event and you'd hate to intrude onto something so intimate, but he's quick to reassure you that his daughter would love to have you there considering all the help you had given her during her practices—if anything, she would need you there for your support.
Single Father!Miguel who tells you that Gabriella had shown visible distress last night when Miguel told her that you might not be able to come due to your non-familial relationship with them. He almost begged you to come with them, as Gabriella had even threatened to quit soccer altogether if you weren't there to witness her first game. When you give in after moments of contemplation, Miguel truly couldn't believe his luck.
Single Father!Miguel who roots alongside you for Gabriella and her team, watching oh so closely just in case someone from the other team did a dirty trick on his precious daughter. He'd sometimes occasionally glance at you, only to see you completely zoned in and focused on Gabriella's playing like the rest of the parents, offering your support through compliments and encouragements that his daughter always caught and would visibly improve from. When she finally scores the winning goal per usual, she's quick to ignore the cheers coming from her teammates and parents to run off the field and not look for Miguel first, but for you.
"Did you see me?!" Gabriella exclaims excitedly as she flings her arms around your waist. "Did you see what I did?!"
"I did, yes," you laugh, attempting not to stumble over from the impact with visible glee and crouch down to her height. Pride written all over your face, you grin. "And I'm so incredibly proud of you."
"It's 'cause I did what you taught me," she declares. "I pointed first and then I shooted!" She uses hand gestures to reanimate her play on the field.
"Shot, Gabi," you correctly gently, your fingers going to automatically comb out the tangles out of her hair like you usually did after practices. "It does come handy, doesn't it?"
"Yeah!" Her eyes go to see Miguel, who doesn't stalk too far behind with open arms and the same proud look painted on his face. "Dad! Didja see me?! Didja see that I scored?!"
Miguel lets out a once-in-a-blue-moon chuckle and lifts his daughter into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck in an affirming hug. "I saw very clearly, mi cariño, and I can't wait to brag about how my daughter scored the winning shot for her team," he compliments warmly.
Gabriella goes to point gleefully in your direction. "It was all because of Miss. (Y/N)," she declares, not knowing that her statement would make a rush of heat bloom onto your face.
"O-oh no... I only... w-well," you stammer out meekly, trying to find the right words. "I'm actually not too knowledgeable on soccer... I only repeated what I found online and—"
"Thank you," Miguel starts off fondly. "(Y/N), truly. Thank you."
You stare at him. "Mr. O'Hara..."
He sets Gabriella down for her to join her rejoicing teammate and pats the small of your back with a grateful look plastered on his face. You were so used to seeing the rather stoic and often tired side of Miguel O'Hara that you forgot he, too, was capable of smiling at times, so when you spotted the small of a grin on his lips that was for you specifically, you felt something in your chest jerk a little bit.
"If it weren't for you being here," he starts off quietly so only you can hear. "Gabi wouldn't have participated at all. She wanted you to come so she'd have enough courage to play because she was so used to you supporting her," Miguel glances at his daughter giggling about on the field. "So it was understandable that if her biggest supporter wasn't here to cheer her on, she wouldn't exactly do her best."
You blink slowly at him, digesting his words in order to truly savor them for all that they were. "I was just—"
"—doing your job?" Miguel finishes for you. He shakes his head. "Last time I remember, 'attending your boss's daughter's soccer games' wasn't on your job description," he says, earning a soft chuckle out of you despite his rather flat tone.
"I suppose so," you murmur with an evident warmth in your eyes, one that Miguel is sure Gabriella has seen numerous times and will continue to welcome as long as you're around.
So when after a dinner celebration at her favorite restaurant, after the star player is tucked into bed after a long day's work, Miguel takes it upon himself to do the what he thought was the impossible for him but possible for Gabriella.
"Stay safe out there," Miguel directs quietly as he helps you put on your coat again. "And again, thank you for today."
"It was my pleasure, Mr. O'Hara," you reply, "And I actually had fun today, so I can thank you for that."
He escorts you down the apartment complex to the lobby and begins to watch you leave, the words on his tongue tipping ever so slowly before they spill the moment you're about to exit through the doors.
"(Y/N)."
At the sound of your voice, you turn to him with a questioning look on your face. "... yes?"
Miguel opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a couple of seconds before blurting out, "Are you free tomorrow evening?"
He scans your face for a reaction before surprise paints itself on your moonlit features. "I-I suppose I am," you nod slowly. "May I ask why?"
"Gabi is having a sleepover at one of her teammate's house," Miguel coughs out and shoves his hands into his pockets to hide their fidgeting.
"Do you need me to drop her off...?" you ask, clearly puzzled.
"No, um," he clears his throat again. "I was... I was actually wondering if you'd... if you'd like to check out that new restaurant that opened up on Clark..."
Regret pools in his mouth the second it falls from his lips and he begins to internally conjure some sort of half-assed lie, perhaps saying something along the lines of the company wanted him to review it for a potential cater in the future or that a friend of his worked there, but when he sights your eyes softening with the same warmth from earlier, he lets you take the reigns on fate.
"I'd quite like that," you murmur, a modest smile on your lips.
a/n ; i told you i was going to give into temptation. wrote this on a plane with no wifi on the way here (thank god for offline editing!)
anyways, i'm trying to squeeze this bit out before my plane ride tmrw since i've been travelling for the past week and a half! i'll be returning home soon where i can finally write to my heart's content, phew! i just reallyyyyy wanted to write something for miguel adjdjfkfalwf but fear not! we shall be back to our regularly scheduled program soon!
as always, thank you for reading and likes+comments+reblogs are always appreciated and never unnoticed（╹◡╹）♡!
#spider-man: across the spider verse#across the spider verse#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o'hara smut#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#atsv miguel#across the spider verse x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#fem!reader
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giving older bsf toji a bj cs u dont have any money on u for gas 😵💫😵💫😵💫
oh mi gosh. dis is absolutely so filthy ‘nd absolutely perfect for him . dis is how grimy he is in my mind.. (modern au where toji is RICH $$)
“toji.”
“hm, darling?” you look upon the questioning man sitting besides you, one strong hand that guides the steering wheel of your own car. he insisted to drive, and in what position would you say no? you’d never pass up an offer to be passenger princess.
“i-i forgot.”
“forgot what?”
“forgot money for gas, toji.”
“are ya dumb sweetheart? goin’ t’get gas n the one thing ya forgot is gas money?”
“‘m s-sorry toji, can you lend me? please? promise i won’t forget next time!”
he scoffs, knowing well that he would’ve paid nonetheless. but watching you nervously scramble yourself together, anticipating a response from him is too adorable, he thinks.
“yeah, but ya gotta pay me back.”
“course i will! gonna give it back as soon as we ge-“
“no sweetie. not with money.”
your head turns slow to the man, already shooting you a evil-intentioned smirk. his free hand comes down to scarce over the evident bulge that pokes through his sweats, indirectly instructing you.
“with your mouth, honey.”
he chuckles when your face flushes red, how unexpecting.
with over 3 years of close friendship, the man had assumed that you at least would’ve noticed; his stares that pierce into your skin, touches that linger a little too long, and the constant absence of your favorite panties. what a naive little thing you were; he loved it.
if you didn’t know his true intentions then, you’d definitely know now.
“c’mon, y’want me to fill it up right?”
“t-“
“the tank sweetie. the car. don’t you want gas?”
you huff when he chuckles at your flustered expression. your small fingers dance across his bulge, his own hand messily slipping under the band of his sweats, releasing himself. he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face when you gasp, fawn like eyes that immediately shoot up to meet his gaze.
“s-so big..”
“mm, you think so?” he teases.
his hand slithers to the back of your head, fingers playing with one or two strands of your hair.
“c’mon, be good..”
he smiles at you coyly, desperate even, and it makes your heart and your cunt clench.
with slight pressure from the man’s hand, you find yourself lowering onto the tip of his cock. your puffy lips press against the warm slit, an immediate groan that spills from his lips,
“no action recently?” you tease, facing him with a slight smile,
“shaddup princess. yer lucky you’re cute.”
you snicker, separating your slicked up lips to wrap around the thick of his cock head. your tongue presses against the slit once again, tasting the sweet substance that coats his dewy slit; more that spews from the teasing licks.
“don’t t-tease.”
you hold yourself further onto his cock to accommodate his length, a light gag that elicits from your throat. tears brim in your eyes when you feel your jaw begin to ache, but the needy man pays no mind when he begins thrusting into your warmth.
oh and when he feels a warm tear fall onto the skin of his thigh, he nearly cums.
“heh.. there you go, see? ya can do it.”
you hum around him, the light sensation that drills right through his sensitive cock.
“g-gunna cum. shit.”
and with a few shallow thrusts, his cum brims. it’s warm, and thick, but you swallow without a second thought. you pull yourself off to meet your eyes with his, vision daisy and face flushed with a sweet pink once again.
“hah.. gonna have to fill you up, darling. we’ll worry about the car later, kay?”
#dis got kinda long but kinda bad . . soz :<#jjk#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#toji fushiguro x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#toji <3#toji smut#jujutsu toji#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji zenin#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#toji fushiguro smut#drabbles ⋆⑅˚₊#requests ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
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All Yours, Coryo
𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅꜱ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ʜᴇ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ꜰɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅᴛʜɪʀꜱᴛʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛᴜʀɴ.
ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ.
𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇx. ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ɴᴀɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɪꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʙʟɪɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ'ꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ꜱᴏ ꜱʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴀʟʟ ʜɪꜱ ʀᴇᴅ ꜰʟᴀɢꜱ. ꜱᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ.
ɪ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛʟʏ ʜɪᴛ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʏᴇꜱᴛᴇʀᴅᴀʏ ɪɴꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀᴡ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴇᴀʀʟɪᴇʀ, ɴᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ.
ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.
Coriolanus has never been the easiest person to understand. His mind was always racing and it kept you on your toes. Even now as he fretted over his appearance in the mirror you could tell his mind was thinking of a million things beyond whether or not his tie fit him correctly.
"For what it's worth, I think you look perfect." You say, sipping at your drink, you had been ready for nearly twenty minutes while Coriolanus was still figuring out what tie matched his pants best.
"I'm sure you do but this isn't just any party, I'm campaigning tonight and everything must be perfect." He says adjusting his hair even though it already sat perfectly styled atop his head.
It was Coriolanus' 23rd birthday and instead of celebrating like you usually did, you were both spending it at a party full of people who might help him reach the presidency by the beginning of next year. You approach him and wrap your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.
"It will be." You assure, pressing a kiss to his exposed neck where his makeup artist did a wonderful job at covering the marks you had left behind last night.
"If all goes well tonight, you might just become the first lady of Panem one day." He smiles at you through the mirror
"Does that mean we're getting married?" You laugh, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the idea of being with him forever
"Maybe..." Coriolanus says suddenly avoiding your eyes as his face reddens under your gaze.
You giggle at your boyfriend's flustered face, despite how grown up he had become in the past few years he was still the same boy you met at the academy all those years ago who just wanted his own bowl of fruit to gobble down.
"You definitely wanna marry me, Coryo!" You say almost as if you had discovered a secret of his.
"Well if you're not interested I can always find another." He jests, finally tying his tie.
"Oh please, I'm the only one who could ever tolerate you." You smile as he spins around to face you and rests his hands on your hips
"That you are, darling, that you are." He smiles and presses a chaste kiss to your lips
Coriolanus is sure you are his favorite person in the entire world. From the way you'd laugh at his jokes to the way your nose whistled when you slept, he loved it all. Even now as the two of you had long abandoned your teenage years and stepped into adulthood, he knew he didn't want to lose you. His interactions with Lucy Gray and his time in District 12 had only solidified how he wanted you to stay close to him. He watches as you cross the room to slip into a pair of pretty high heels, he loved the way your dress sat on your body, it was perfectly fitted and he wondered what designer had been able to craft it so perfectly.
He looked back at the mirror and pretended to fiddle with his outfit again even though he knew he looked perfect. Instead, his eyes cast to the small table next to the mirror where a collection of photos sat you and him over the past five years. His favorite though was the one that was taken at your 17th birthday party. He remembered how warm it had been, and at one point someone had filled a bucket of water and tossed at you. He had expected you to cry out and push everyone out of your home but instead, he was met with your laughter and thus a water fight had begun. The picture of the two of you had been taken not even twenty minutes later, both of you were drenched but happy and you had linked your arms together right before the picture was taken. Sometimes he wished to go back to those moments, to relieve the last bits of his boyhood even though it meant going back to that decrepit building he once lived in and the taste of cabbage a constant on his tongue.
"Thinking about the past?" You ask from across the room.
"Thinking about how ugly we look here." He says picking up the photo
"Nonsense, we're adorable in that. If I remember correctly that was taken a few weeks before you tripped me in my room trying to slow dance and then you gave me the kiss of a lifetime." You smile
"I didn't trip you, you tripped me with your bad dancing." He laughed, returning the photo to its proper place among the others.
"Whatever you say, Coryo." You smiled, he could tell you didn't believe one word that came from his mouth about the tripping incident.
These parties were always a bit tedious for you. You enjoyed seeing Coriolanus happy among Capitol elites and you loved the lavish dresses you got to wear but sometimes it became overwhelming. The sheer amount of reporters that were always at these things is what drove you crazy. Coriolanus ate the attention up and answered all their questions about how he'd change Panem for the better but you were usually left answering questions about what your dress was made of or what your relationship was with Coriolanus. He often assured you that once he won the presidency he'd have more control over what was asked and that you'd never have to answer another dress question again. You hoped he won as soon as possible, it was tiring pretending this line of questioning was interesting.
"Is that real gold on your sleeves?"
"Is that ring on your finger an engagement ring?"
"Who did your hair for the evening?"
"Are you going to have the future president's children?"
"Did you seduce Coriolanus Snow for power in the Capitol?"
"How many toes do you have?"
God you wished they'd all shut up, or at least get better questions. Even just something as small as your involvement with your father's company would've been better than this. You ignored whatever trash was coming from their mouths and held on to Coriolanus' arm like he was going to disappear and end up back in District 12 again.
You remembered that day very well, after Coriolanus' tribute had won he had just disappeared despite promising to walk you home after the games had ended. When he didn't show up for graduation either, you found yourself outside Tigris and Grandma'am's new residence looking for answers. Tigris had told you what happened with him and that girl, Lucy Gray, how he cheated with rat poison and a handkerchief of his father's. At first, you had been distraught that he was sent off to District 12, stuck there for twenty years as some peacekeeping grunt, you'd be an ugly middle-aged woman by the time he got back! You had been in the pits of despair about your relationship with him but all it took was one terrifying meeting with Dr. Gaul to change your attitude. Once she revealed that Coriolanus would be back in the Capitol soon, and she was simply testing his dedication to the games, you relaxed. While Dr. Gaul might not have all her marbles you knew she wasn't lying, and sure enough, your Coriolanus returned to you in a matter of weeks.
However, he returned to you differently though. Sure, his head was shaved like all Peacekeepers and the curls you loved to play with were gone, but his attitude had also changed. Perhaps it was that Songbird he never wanted to speak of even now. You could never quite place what happened between Coriolanus and her, all that mattered to you was that he had assured you it wasn't romantic. Just shared ambitions to both win something. In her case her life and in his the Plinth Prize, not that that went well for her since she had disappeared shortly after she went home. You weren't quite sure what to make of Lucy Gray, the mysterious Songbird who had enchanted all of Panem just five years ago. You had only spoken to her once and it was just to compliment her singing during her interview. She hadn't exactly impressed you with her in that moment but she must have impressed Coriolanus at some point if he was willing to break rules for her.
Or perhaps his change was due to whatever training Peacekeepers went through and the death of Sejanus that had rocked the entire Capitol when he was revealed as a traitor, you knew Coriolanus had been close to him. Of course, despite all his changes and attitude adjustments, he never applied them to you. So, here you stayed by his side, happy that he still loved you the same. Soft touches and sweet words remained constant as the two of you aged and explored the advantages of adulthood. One of your favorite things about being 23 was moving out of your family's home and into the penthouse Coriolanus had chosen for the two of you. Waking up next to Coriolanus each day and seeing how he looked before his eyes fluttered open had to be your favorite part of the days you spent together. Brushing his hair from his eyes and counting the freckles that just barely brushed his pale skin was something you did daily until his pretty blue eyes met yours again. Once he did wake though, it was hard to get him to stay in bed with you. His peaceful state was always replaced with a man who was always working towards something, ambition was always fueling him.
You didn't mind his rough exterior that emerged each morning though, Coriolanus was cold and hard on everyone but you. Perhaps it was your shared childhood memories and teenage romance that prevented him from treating you coldly like he did poor Tigris but you weren't sure. One thing you did know was that the boy you grew up with was gone and a man stood in his place, brooding and cold to everyone but you.
"I'm going to get us a drink and then if you want we can dance." He whispered in your ear
"Can you get me that fizzy lemon drink they usually serve?" You ask
"Of course, I'll bring you some of those hors d'oeuvres you like with the cheese as well."
And then, he was gone from your side moving expertly through the crowd. That dazzling blonde hair accompanied by the broadest shoulders you've ever seen on a man disappeared among the throngs of people craning their necks to get a better look at the future president and his pretty face.
"A true marvel isn't he?" a voice to your right said
You turned to be met by none other than Lucky Flickerman, a drink in one hand and a young child's hand grasped in the other.
"I'm not interested in doing an interview, Lucky. If you want information on Coryo you can ask him yourself." You say, ready to walk away from the Capitol's favorite news anchor turned Hunger Games host.
"Coryo...what an interesting nickname, a bit childish for a man who might watch over us all soon. No matter, I would however absolutely love to report on you one day and maybe even that big business you're the heiress of, but I'm actually talking to you for this little one tonight." Lucky smiles motioning to the boy who you guessed was his son. "He was admiring that stunning dress of yours and I thought he might want to see it up close and personal."
For once you didn't mind being asked about your clothes as you crouched down to the little boy's height, he couldn't be more than 5 or 6.
"You have a good eye, would you like to feel the fabric? The designer I met with made it wonderfully soft." You smile, thinking of how Tigris had gushed over the blood-red fabric that would perfectly match Coriolanus' suit with you just weeks ago.
The boy reaches his hand out and brushes it along expensive fabric and a smile grows on his face.
"What's your name?" You ask
"Caesar." He says "I just turned 6 last week."
"Well, Caesar, six is a marvelous age to be, you can do all sorts of things at six. In fact, when I turned six I learned to ride a bicycle for the first time, I did however scrape my knees half a million times. I even still have a few scars on my knees would you like to see them?." You smile at him and he nods.
"Lucky Flickerman, I thought I told your producers that you weren't allowed to bother her with your idiotic questions the way the other reporters do. You clearly don't value your job, if you did you would have listened to my words." Coriolanus' voice suddenly fills your ears as you quickly right yourself, remembering how he once told you you'd have to start holding yourself with more decorum at these events. 'No more acting like a stupid teenager' had been his exact words one night when you were eating dinner together in your shared room.
"It's fine, his son wanted to say hello." You smile down at Caesar, take your lemon drink, and pop some of the food Coriolanus brought with him into your mouth. You sincerely hoped that you weren't about to witness Lucky being fired by the newest mastermind behind The Hunger Games and future the president.
From the corner of your eye, you see Coriolanus cast an intimidating look down at the boy and you resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs and force him to apologize to the poor child who was now cowering behind his father's stylish pant leg.
"I'll see you later, Lucky. We are going to go dancing now." Coriolanus says setting your barely sipped drink and food on a tray of a passing server before whisking you away.
"You're bad with children, Coryo." You say as he leads you towards the dance floor.
"And you're bad at reading people, darling." He says, ignoring the way you pouted at your loss of lemon drink and cheese-sprinkled food.
"What do you mean?" You ask, confused
"Lucky just wanted to get you to answer questions about me," Coriolanus says as he leads you in a dance, the both of you had gotten exceptionally better since your failure at 17 in your childhood bedroom.
"Oh." You say, a bit sad that he wasn't genuinely interested in you, just another dumb reporter who wanted news on Coriolanus' next move. It was amazing how Coriolanus always knew what others were thinking and how to approach a situation best.
"It's alright, just ignore him next time," Coriolanus says, gently squeezing your waist as a form of reassurance.
You nod and rest your head on his shoulder as you spin around the dance floor, suddenly wishing you were tangled up in bed with him rather than dancing in heels that were pinching your toes.
"Can I confess something to you?" Coriolanus whispers, his lips tickling your ear.
"Of course, always " You reply honestly
"I hate seeing you interacting with them." He says in a low voice.
"Them?" You ask
"These people. Seeing them ask you questions about your dress or hair, makes me want to toss them into the arena and watch one of Gaul's mutts rip them apart. I hate the way they look at you like you're a piece of meat attached to my side." He says, possessiveness lacing his tone.
"Oh...well I'm sure they don't all think that way." You try to reason, hoping that he wasn't right about this read on others.
"I doubt it. Look at that one by the fountain in the blue jacket." He says nodding to his right.
You glance over to the fountain and see an old man with a fluffy white beard and white hair to match. He seemed to be carefully watching you and Coriolanus spinning on the dancefloor but you weren't quite sure.
"I'm positive he's standing there imagining what it'd look like if this pretty dress was on the floor and you were on top of him," Coriolanus whispers, knowing it'll have you blushing in his arms.
"Coryo..." You say, trying to keep your composure as he presses his body to yours while you wonder if he's truly right and the old man across the pretty courtyard is truly ogling you.
"Too bad I'm the only one who will ever know what that looks like." He says a certain arrogance in his voice you can't quite place.
"Stop it." You scold, trying to hide the fact that your face is as red as your dress.
"Why? I can't wait to get back to our bedroom tonight and bring what's in my head to life." Coriolanus laughs, his voice was husky in your ears and making you weak in the knees.
"You're so embarrassing, Coryo." You say into his chest, avoiding that sharp gaze he had. How could someone act so well-composed but also have the dirty mind of a perverted teenage boy?
Coriolanus stops leading your dance and hooks a finger under your chin so you're looking up at him again. Sharp blue eyes that felt like they were staring into your soul looked at you, full of passion and want.
"My heart burns for you, darling, as it always has. You're mine, my perfect girl, all mine." He promises before swooping in to deliver what might qualify as the most monumental kiss in all of history.
A certain warmness spreads across your body as he kisses you in public for the first time. It's moments like this with your Coriolanus make your heart swell, these moments remind you that the little boy with the golden curls you met when you were just twelve lives on, just in a different way. You know the teenager you once ate cabbage soup and bread with sweet jam watches over you as you kiss his 23-year-old self, you know he's smiling at where the two of you are now. You're sure that the same boy who once spun you around your childhood bedroom to your favorite slow song is still here with you now, even if he rarely shows his face. Coriolanus Snow is always watching over you, every version of him envelopes you tonight as he shows the world who you are to him.
Your head spins and your lungs burn as you hear a few whoops and cheers from onlookers while others whisper about how Coriolanus' hands are wandering all over your body. You're sure the way he's kissing you is going to end up on some Capitol news reel tomorrow morning but you can't find the heart to care. Somewhere in his chest, you feel Coriolanus let out a deep groan when you run your hands through his hair ruining the way it was perfectly styled for the evening. You gasp when his teeth nip at your bottom lip and pull away, a gasp for air leaving your now surely swollen lips.
"All yours, Coryo." You assure him and lean in for another kiss.
You smile as he kisses back and couldn't care less about what the world around you thinks, you had your Coryo, the boy who you grew up with and ate cabbage together in his decrepit home, the same boy who danced with you despite his own lack of skill. You were with your Coriolanus, the man who was going to carry Panem into a new age of glory.
Part Three
Series Masterlist
Read the Teaser here
So I uh sorta ended up abandoning fluffy Coryo thoughts from part one and went with the reader's pov of him at 23, I hope that's okay with all of you. He still loves you though don't worry, it's just in his own Coryo way. His own magically manipulative Coryo way. I was initially going to make this part during the 10th Hunger Games but then I thought, wouldn't it be interesting to see how he interacts with reader post Lucy Gray considering how much she changes his ideals. To make things clear, every moment with Lucy Gray and Coryo has occurred and the reader is unaware of pretty much all of it here, obviously since she's so goo goo gah gah over him.
If you'd like more of my writings about Coryo and you, my fic Blank Space might be the read for you, it also has a part two that is available now You can read them both here. (Yes it's based on the Taylor Swift song)
Taglist:
@bl0ndelilac
@lucygreene
@lwqfhp
@belle643
@fantasylovestoryme
@alana4610
@threeinchminimum
@dangelnleif
@hannaeditzs
@1950schick
@ennycutie
@janelongxox
@ajs-222
@or-was-it-just-a-dream
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@brilliantreid
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@405rry @folklorde24
@eir964
@charlesswife
@fangirling-galore
#the hunger games#fanfic#coriolanus snow smut#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#katniss everdeen#mockingjay#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#lucy gray baird#tom blyth#rachel zegler#coriolanus snow fluff#sejanus plinth#thg#tbosas#coriolanus snow x fem!reader
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Yandere! Yakuza x Reader
I've been plagued by this idea for a while, so let me know what you think! This is just the character introduction. Your new landlord is a Yakuza boss, and his scary looking underling has been tasked to deal with your tenant needs! Although he didn't expect you to be this cute. And you didn't expect him to be this unhinged.
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]
Content: Female reader, violence, mentions of stalking
This was the last straw.
You're angrily stuffing your suitcase with necessities before the moving company arrives. Each glimpse around the cramped apartment fills you with outrage, as you're still heavily shaken from the events of last night.
You first begun to suspect you might have a stalker when you found your outer lock with a fresh dent in it. You then picked a small scrap from the ground nearby and assumed it was leftover damage, but upon further inspection you discovered, disgusted, that it was part of your peephole. Someone must've fiddled with your door a fair amount. You tried to approach your immediate neighbors for help, but they either refused to answer your persistent knocks or downright scurried away when faced with your questions. They didn't want to deal with a foreigner.
You tried to put it behind you. The police advised you to be cautions, as there was nothing else they could do without concrete evidence. And thankfully, you had several peaceful weeks following the incident. Last night you were suddenly awakened by faint scratches coming from your balcony. You groggily got up and wondered if your recently added bird feeder was attracting nocturnal visitors. You got up without turning on the light, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious animal. As you pulled the drape, however, you were met with the large frame of a man plucking your laundry in a hurry.
A panicked scream erupted from the depths of your chest and you slapped the light switch, erratically searching for your phone. By the time you dialed emergency, the intruder had vanished. You were sobbing against the wall under the fake reassurances of the operator, eyeing the sliding door that had no lock. Had he wished, the masked man could've easily invited himself in. You were at the mercy of a lunatic and no one seemed to be impressed by your situation.
No more. Ideally you'd go back to your home country and forget about your plans to build yourself a life in Japan. What were you even thinking? A lonely girl, low on funds, signing a contract to be relocated across the ocean for work. You barely scraped the first months of a mandatory year.
You close your suitcase with a satisfying click and on your way out you wipe the table of all the newspaper clippings. You've been scanning the potential offers on the market. The ones within your budget, of course, which means you don't have to worry about being picky. Until you find a new place, your belongings can wait in storage. Dusty furniture is a better prospect than waking up with a pervert looming over you.
By the time the clock hits evening hours, you're sipping on your iced coffee with a defeated sigh. Most of the cheap apartments seem to be given to locals. Not outsiders like you. At least they spared you of the false hopes and curtly told you to not expect any call back, so you can swiftly move on to the next circled address. You pull out the crumbled sheet of paper from your pocket. Reading over your list of crossed out lines like this deflates you greatly. At the very bottom lies your final hope: the ad you'd stumbled upon this morning was too good to be true and the realtor was available for viewing at any time, so you're almost certain it's some sort of scam. Yet you can't afford to skip it, can you? You stand up, pat your jeans and take a deep breath in.
As you check your phone to confirm the location, you begin to doubt your decision. It's hard to believe no other potential renters have showed up. The apartment is in a convenient area, very close to public transport, at a great price, on what looks like a busy street. Isn't it the dream? So why? You glance around, examining the surroundings. The shops are bustling with people. You try to come up with possible explanations, when a deep voice startles you.
"You must be (Y/N), right? You sure are easy to spot."
You turn around to greet the person. Although the second you spot him, you take an unconscious step back. You'd expected a middle aged man dressed in formal attire with a shy bow and clumsy movements. The one standing before you resembles none of that. He's imposingly tall, with a muscular built and slicked back hair. You can discern the tattoos peeking out from under the rolled up sleeves. His face has multiple deep scars and you can only assume that the pale, discolored eye that's transfixed in one direction is a fake made of glass. One might call him handsome, if you're into the kind of appearance you see in documentaries about the mafia.
"Y-you're the landlord?" You stutter, immediately covering your mouth and regretting your lack of tact.
"Nuh uh, Boss sent me to deal with it." He flashes you a genuine grin, completely unperturbed by your offhanded implication. "I'm Daitou."
He continues towards the entrance and you follow behind, too awkward to back down now. He describes the living quarters with surprising enthusiasm. If you were to close your eyes and disregard his heavy Kansai accent, you could very well be convinced it's a professional real estate agent hard at work.
"Excuse me for asking, but..." Once he finishes his marketing presentation, you cannot help the increasing anxiety. "What's the catch?"
"Huh?"
"For something like this to be so cheap...and no one else being interested...may I be frank and ask what's wrong with it? Please understand, I just left my previous apartment because of a stalker. I don't want to be packing again anytime soon."
"Well, isn't it obvious?" He searches your gaze for a moment, before gasping as if remembering something. "Wait, you're a foreigner, so I guess you don't know. Ah, that explains it."
He lets out a hearty laugh, satisfied with his conclusion.
"You didn't notice anything strange outside?"
You ponder his question before slowly shaking your head in denial.
"Really? A bunch of heavily tattooed guys with family pins on their suits...This is a yakuza quarter. Our Family owns most businesses here. But lately we've had a lot of police on our backs, ya know? Bound to happen when the street is swarming with us. So Boss had this great idea - he's smart like that, ya know, I've never been the bright one - anyways, he suggested we rent some of our housing to regular civilians. Less suspicious that way."
He crosses his arms and nods to himself proudly.
"I myself think it's a great deal. You won't find anything cheaper for the kind of stuff you're getting. All you have to do is, you know, mind your business. If some weasel questions you, no Sir, you haven't seen or heard anything suspicious. That's all."
You can only stare wide eyed, somewhat taken aback by his honesty.
"Uh...Are you sure you were supposed to tell me all of this? I feel we're skipping some steps before admitting to organized crime."
Now it's his turn to consider your inquiry.
"Probably not, but I'm not good with words. You look like a smart girl, so I thought I won't sugarcoat it. I'm sure you already know that if you leave and rat us out I'll be throwing your chopped up remains in the nearby river. Or would you want to be shipped home instead? I'm a nice guy like that, hehe."
You return a crooked smile and purse your lips in the process. You'd rather not learn the percentage of truth in his humor anytime soon.
"You mentioned a stalker? I can guarantee you he won't follow here, miss. And if he's that dumb to wander on our turf, well, me and my guys always hang around the block. Leave him to me and I'll bring you his teeth in a box."
"I-...Why teeth of all the things?"
"Just easier to pull out, ya know." He winks and reaches for his back pocket, revealing an old pair of pliers with childish delight. "See, I'm a bit of a handyman, so I always have some tools on me."
Strangely enough, you're not as terrified as you would expect from someone in your shoes. Certainly your knees are weaker when compared to your pre-encounter state, but there's something about his demeanor that doesn't feel malicious or threatening. Like conversing with an old friend at a pub.
"Will I truly not get in trouble? You guys do your thing and I'm 100% not involved?"
"You have my word." And with that, as if closing the sale of his lifetime, he confidently slaps a stack of papers on the nearby counter and hands you a pen. "You already have my number, if anyone pisses you off just hit me up and I'll be at your service. Boss left everything to me."
No perverts and less of your monthly allowance going towards rent. Maybe it's your despair talking, but you've been persuaded nonetheless. You scribble your name in the designated field and shove the documents towards your new acquaintance.
"Pleasure doing business with you, miss (Y/N)." He cheerfully dangles the keys before dropping them in your hand and heads for the door.
"Oh, is shipping included in the rent?"
He stops and turns to you, mildly confused.
"You said if I mess up you'll ship my remains home. Do I pay for the postage myself, or is that part of the monthly tax?" You ask with a cheeky grin.
His eyes narrow in delight and you can tell he's greatly amused by your words.
"Nah, consider it a gift from me. Gotta treat a lady nice, 'specially if it's a pretty one like you."
And with that, you're alone again. You look around the room, trying to visualize your new home. It's already getting dark outside. Now that you've had the situation explained to you, you can definitely see what Daitou meant. There's the occasional police officer patrolling the street, and plenty of men dressed in similar fashion walking in small groups.
"And?"
Outside the building, a young man is leaning against the wall with a cigarette in his mouth. He seems to have been waiting for Daitou.
"It's done. Some cute foreigner is moving in." He lifts an arm in a flexing motion, patting his bicep in a congratulatory manner. "Boss will be surprised, eh?"
"You're fucking with me."
"What? You wanna go back upstairs and check?" He responds, appalled. "Might've taken longer than expected, but I told ya I can manage!"
"Are you sure you didn't threaten her or something? I still don't know what Boss was thinking when he asked a nutcase like you to deal with the civvies."
"Hey hey hey, I may not be all fancy speaking like you or Kazuya, but I'm not dumb. Matter of fact, she already signed the papers."
"I never said you're dumb. Just batshit crazy." The young man sighs and flicks his cigarette butt away, stomping on it.
"Let's go and tell the others."
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x darling#female reader#yandere yakuza#yakuza x reader#yandere imagine#yandere imagines#yandere oc#yandere original character#yandere mafia#mafia x reader#original work#oc x reader#male yandere x reader#x reader
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sleepover
words: 700
warnings: 18+ only, smut, handjob, mentions of blowjobs, best friends brother
“am not.” you complain as rafe tells you you’re too little for what feels like the hundredth time.
“yes you are baby.” he coos out, laughing as you pout.
“you’re like barely older than me.” you argue, grinding your hips down.
“three whole years.” rafe reminds you. the same age difference between him and sarah, afterall, you were her friend first.
“but im not a kid!” your eyes flutter closed as you bounce your body up and down, hoping your movements are enough to entice rafe.
“maybe you need to get your behavior in check before i fuck you.” rafe strokes his cock slowly as you’re sitting on his lap, one of his fingers buried inside of you.
“so im not too little?” you question, gripping rafes thighs as you lean back, body moving in waves as you feel his finger push into you.
“eh.” rafe shrugs. he doesn’t have a good reason why he won’t fuck you yet, why he teases you by making you ride his thigh or suck him off. he likes seeing you impatient and needy, teasing you until you both finally break and rafe fucks you.
“you’re so mean.” you pout, eyes opening to watch rafes hand glide up and down his cock.
you pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you reach forward, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock before grasping it and adding to rafe strokes.
“not gonna get me to fuck you.” rafe smirks, laughing slightly when you wiggle your body as a complaint, clenching your pussy around his finger in an attempt to entice him.
“at least add a second, please.” you wanna prove to rafe that you can take it, that you’re able to fit his cock inside of you.
“whats the point of opening you up when im not gonna be inside of you?” rafe questions, dropping his hand away so you can continue stroking his cock.
“raaafe.” you whine. he laughs at you, but adds a second finger inside your cunt, making you moan as you really do feel the stretch, his fingers pushing against your walls as you grind against him.
“make me cum and i’ll touch your clit too, baby.” rafe huffs out. you sit forward, letting out a gasp when rafes fingers curl inside of you, but you don’t let the rush of pleasure distract you from gripping his cock with both hands, working him up and down near frantically.
rafe wishes his digits weren’t currently thrusting into your cunt so you could bend down and take him in your mouth, but he’ll settle for cumming all over your tits and stomach.
“almost there.” he grunts out, chest heaving up and down as you begin to moan with every push forward of his fingers, your hands tightening on his cock as it swells, and then suddenly rafe is cumming, painting your torso as he groans out.
before his orgasm is even finished, his hand turns so his thumb can rub against your clit, not bothering to be gentle as he rubs harshly against your bud.
“i- shit.” you curse, hands falling away from rafes cock the second it stops pulsing as you lean forward, gripping rafes shoulders.
“cum for me, pretty.” he coos out. “don’t you think sarah is getting suspicious of where you disappeared to?”
you let out a moan at the mention of sarah, hoping she hears and you get caught, wanting to quit hiding what you have with rafe.
“yeah.” you nod. “yeah-i-im close.”
rafe is unforgiving with his fingers, pushing them so deep inside of you that your orgasm is suddenly ripping through your body as you cum with a loud shout of his name, slumping forward against his bare chest.
“shh, thats it. i got you.” rafe rubs your clit gently through your high until you’re whining and oversensitive, thighs clenching closed.
“you’re gonna fuck me next time, right rafe?” you question.
“when is your next sleepover with sarah?” he questions, as if you don’t spend every weekend at tanneyhill.
“friday.”
“perfect.” rafe helps you sit up, pressing a kiss to your lips. “sneak out and come to my room.”
“you’re gonna fuck me?” you sit up straighter, excitement evident in your voice.
“no, but you can suck my cock.” rafe chuckles while you let out a frustrated groan.
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LAY UR HANDS ON ME
Summary: You and Lando have been friends for years, dancing around your feelings and avoiding the tension between the two of you. What happens when there's only one spot left in the car? [1.7k]
[lando norris x reader ]
MASTERLIST | Part 2 - I LIKE THE WAY YOU KISS ME
Warnings: 18+ for explicit language and smut, sorta dry humping, light fingering and cursing. If there's any I missed let me know!
Note: as the poets say, i’m a slut for Lando <3
I was inspired by this tik tok and this fic by uluvjay
Anywaaays, let me know if I should do a part twooo
Lando's eyes can't help but wander over your figure as you sit next to him at dinner. His gaze traces the curves of your body accentuated by the dress you mentioned to him just the week before. The fabric clings to your body in all the right places, exuding an allure that is both captivating and refined. He notices how the colour of the fabric makes your eyes look brighter and emphasizes the features of your body that he always finds himself drawn to. You look completely at ease in your chair, a half-empty glass of wine dangling casually from your fingertips.
He's pulled from his thoughts by a voice across the table. "What's the plan?" Carlos inquires, his hands clasped together in front of him as he gazes out at Lando. He blinks, processing what his ex-teammate just asked him. He hesitates for a second.
"I think I'm ready to head back to the hotel," he replies, meeting your eyes briefly for confirmation. You nod in agreement, your silent support bolstering his decision. A chorus of voices clamours at you, George, Alex, and Pierre opting to go out for a few more drinks and dancing. You shake your head, swirling the glass in your fingers.
"I think I'll head back too," you say, setting the glass down with a decisive clink. Max nods in agreement, Pietra clinging to his arm as they prepare to leave as well. You all begin to file out, congregating in the foyer of the restaurant for some quick goodbyes.
Lily wraps her arms around you in a farewell embrace, a pout evident on her face as she whispers promises of future hangouts before hurrying to rejoin her awaiting boyfriend. Alex gives you a wave from afar, a gentle smile playing at the corner of his lips, and they join the rest of the group as they make their way towards their car.
You walk out, trailing close behind Lando. Your hand is tucked into the pocket of his blazer jacket, a silent yet comforting gesture that keeps you near him. The air is filled with conversations as you make your way to the car that awaits you. Everyone begins to pile into it, Max taking his place behind the wheel with Pietra by his side while Carlos sits in the back with Charles.
"Oh, shit—" you hear Lando mutter suddenly as he scans the remaining space. There's only one spot left in the car, next to Carlos. With a slight grimace, you watch as he waves his hand in the air as if to say, no mind that. Lando takes his place next to his friend, ushering you into the car as well. Your eyebrows furrow together as he gestures for you to climb in his lap.
You hesitantly sit down, pulling the door closed behind you. You had always been rather close to Lando, even going past the confines of friendship, blurring the lines. You'd always be stealing his clothes, his t-shirt, sweatpants, sweaters. He'd always find comfort in your body heat, curling up at your side to sleep or have a cuddle. You were essentially attached at the hip.
You'd grown accustomed to the flashes of cameras and the photos circling online on social media. Often, people would question if you were dating, but the answer would always remain the same—no. Not that either of you didn't want to, but you'd been friends for a few years, and Lando intended to keep you by his side as long as he could. He prioritized your bond over potentially complicating things by introducing romance to the mix.
This feels like entirely new territory, sitting in his lap with his hands hovering above your thighs, the faint scent of your perfume teasing his senses as you settle in. He can't help but feel a flutter of excitement surge through him. If you leaned back, he feared you'd be able to feel the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat underneath the layers of muscle that encase his chest.
As you lean forward to grasp the seat in front of you, Lando can feel his breath catch in his throat as he becomes hyper-fixated on your movements. He can't help but bite his lip as a flush rises to his cheeks, struggling to take his eyes away from where your figure is nestled in his lap. The softness of your touch sears through him.
His eyes dart nervously to Carlos, hoping to find some reprieve from the intense feelings brewing in him. The Spaniard raises an eyebrow at him in silent amusement, a smirk playing on his lips before turning back to Charles and resuming their conversation. With a gentle shake of his head, Lando tears his gaze away, opting to watch the lights go by outside.
He watches as the pavement gradually gives way to rougher terrain beneath the car’s tires, signaling the road to their hotel nestled on the outskirts of the city. Max turns the music up, trying to muffle the crunch of the wheels on the gravel. The transition is palpable, the rumbling of the road sending vibrations through the vehicle. Your position suddenly feels uncomfortable and you begin to shift in your spot, momentarily forgetting that he can feel your every move.
A sudden bump jostles you from your spot and you can feel Lando’s hands tighten slightly over your skin. You try your best to stay still, only shifting again when the car goes over another bump. A whispered plea cuts through the tense air, sending a tingle down your spine.
“Please stop moving.” he murmurs, voice strained. The heat that spreads through you only intensifies as you feel his grip on you tighten, your hands clenching onto Pietra’s seat in response.
“Sorry,” you whisper back, trying to sound as sincere as you can, to sound like you weren’t thinking about how hard he was beginning to feel under you. Lando’s fingers press harder into your thighs. The bumps keep coming and you struggle to keep from moving. The air around you feels as if it's getting hotter as you continue to move against him. Next to you, Carlos and Charles are dozed off, completely unaware of the tension rising just next to them.
You can feel Lando breathing down your back, having placed his forehead at the nape of your neck. It sends a shiver down your spine, right to your core. He’s breathing in your scent, burying his nose in your skin. His breath is coming out in broken fragments as he struggles to keep it under control. His fingers are now fanned out on your thighs, just inches from the hem of your dress. He’s almost tempted to slip his fingers under it. He bites down on his lip, a futile attempt to hide how much he’s enjoying the moment. The bumps in the road continue to make his heart pound, freezing his hands in place.
Desperate for some relief, he tries to lean back into the seat. The ache building in his cock is almost unbearable. He pushes his hips forward, inadvertently bucking them up and now it's your turn to try to keep quiet. You feel yourself hang off of the seat in front of you, back arching slightly.
His gaze is now trained on the curve of your ass in his lap and he can't help the sigh that falls from his lips. He so badly wants to surrender himself to the allure of the moment, so many years of yearning for you building up to this very night.
You reach a hand down to grab one of his, intertwining your fingers in a silent plea for more. You feel as if you are skating on thin ice as you encourage his hand to move under your dress. A gasp threatens to make its way past your lips as he follows your lead and dips a hand between your legs. Pushing your knees out ever so slightly, his fingers delve deeper, and you find yourself teetering toward the edge of ecstasy.
You both begin to shift in time, the pad of his thumb just barely pressing into the button of your clit and your ass rubbing perfectly against his cock. With each subtle movement, your senses ignite, the friction sending waves of pleasure rippling through the both of you.
“Oh god…” Lando’s voice is a mere whisper, hardly reaching your ears over the hum of the car and pounding of the music. His fingers move in slow circles, you feel as if the pleasure could consume you whole. With every flicker, your teeth dig harder into your lip, and you swear you could draw blood.
You can see the hotel lights from here, light seeping into the car. Panic sets in as you freeze in the seat, hands and hips coming to a complete halt. You can feel Lando shaking underneath you, his cheeks a bright pink. His chest is heaving as he tries to take shallow and quiet breaths. You each try to compose yourselves and you lean back in his lap, pulling his hands out from the fabric of your dress.
The tension in the air is palpable as the car comes to a stop, Max putting it in park and announcing to the sleeping men that you’ve arrived. You bite your lip at the innuendo that goes over everyone’s heads. Not quite, Max.
Lando’s hands take their spot on your thighs again, just as they were at the beginning of the ride. They stick slightly to your exposed skin, a testament to the desire that simmers between the two of you. You can see them twitch as if they’re still itching for more. He smiles weakly at you as you step out of the car, blaming the tight confines of the car for your flushed cheeks.
You don't miss how he gingerly sticks the pads of his fingers in his mouth or how he shoves his hands into his pockets, adjusting his pants as he does so. You blink away the last of the haze in your eyes as you quickly and quietly follow him up to your shared hotel room.
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pretty
bff!jake. 1.6k. smut ft. roommate!jay.
“i- wh- what the actual fuck?”
“i said what i said, let me suck you.”
“you’ve lost it,” the startled man leans away from you, his face contorted from your sudden suggestion, “all that studying finally broke you.”
“god jake,” you roll your eyes and lean forward, almost closing the gap between your bodies entirely, “why are you making it more complicated than it needs to be? i just need to suck your dick for like a minute.”
the poor man’s expression is one that has you immediately in a fit of laughter, confusion, disgust with a hint of arousal, all displayed across his face at the same time.
yes, it was a weird request to make towards your best friend but it’s not like you haven’t done it before. and for some unexplainable, wild reason, sucking his dick always calmed you. especially in times when you were stressed over your head about classes.
like right now.
“who asks their bestfriend shit like this like it’s the most normal thing to do?”
“for the last time. sim jaeyun will you let me suck you off?” you get up from the bed as you say so, arms folded, your tone more of a threat than a question, “you do realise jay is next door, and i’m pretty sure he’d be more than willing to let me suck-”
“okay okay! for fucks sakes suck me then! no need to bring out the government name.”
your hand is already at his thigh before he could even finish his sentence, immediately palming him through his sweat pants. with an accomplished grin on your face, you kneel down in between his spreaded legs on the floor, your eyes never once leaving his as you do so. it’s something you know for a fact jake likes you doing, giving him that full attention, like he’s the only thing that mattered to you in the moment.
“fuck- why do you do this shit to me?” he whispers, his voice much lower than before. he watches you through lidded eyes, his gaze entirely on your new submissive position in front of him, “you’re so evil.”
“and you love it, jake.”
the way his dick twitches in your hand to the call of his name only excites you more, further pushing you to get a move on. so you do just that, pulling off his pants and boxers down to his ankles in one quick motion before grabbing onto his member.
the man’s deep groans instantly fill the room as you begin to jerk him painfully slow, your evil self enjoying the situation a little too much. you can’t help but pout when you notice the way his clutch on the bedsheets tightens because it should be your hair he’s gripping. not the damn bedsheets.
“c- come on don’t tease.”
“i don’t know what you’re talking about...” lies. you knew exactly what you were doing, and to make things worse for him, you decide to lean in closer to his leaking tip. but obviously not close enough.
the frustrated sigh that emits from his throat is hard to miss, the sound making you chuckle a little to yourself.
he’s so desperate for you, just like how you wanted him to be.
“you’re so hard jake... look at you.”
“i swear to god- oh shit!”
your lips pressing onto his tip is enough to have him in a puddle, his words no longer coherent. it makes you feel good to be able to make jake turn into such a mess, without having to do much at all.
“you enjoy doing this to me don’t you?” there’s a sudden change in his eyes, his gaze dark and serious as he reaches out to grab the back of your neck, holding you still in place to look at him, “you’re such a brat.”
if there’s one thing you’ve learnt about jake over the years, is that the man is a big softie when it comes to you, always letting you have your way no matter how ridiculous it is.
but the only times jake will not let you have your way are times like these. it’s as if something switches in him, going from soft to dominant all in two seconds when you push the right buttons.
when you were bratty.
and god was this jake hot.
“jake...”
“you were all talk before,” he taunts, a smirk forming on the end of his lips, “go on. show me what that mouth can do besides shit talk.”
and you didn’t need to be asked twice, especially not by jake sim.
your mouth quickly wraps around his hard on, barely managing to take half of it before you can feel it hit the back of your throat. although you’ve done this numerous times before, jake’s size always managed to surprise you.
no more words are needed, the room now filled with his grunts and the sound of you slobbering all over his dick. you know you should be embarrassed by your noises, but you’re not, your only goal now was to please the man.
often enough, you’d imagine how good it’d feel to have him fuck you with it. making you feel good, making you cum.
it was so wrong to have such fantasies about your best friend but every time you’re in bed with your hands down your pants, there’s no one else you’d rather think of but jake sim.
tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes as you continue moving your head, sucking on his length like your life depended on it. hard and fast, edging the man closer and closer towards his release.
his tightened grip on the back of your neck tells you that he’s close. so you do what you do best, grabbing onto his base with both your hands, stroking it in sync with your mouth.
“f- fuck- i’m gonna-” he mumbles while trying to pull your head away but you don’t budge, hinting for him continue on. and he does just that, finishing deep in your mouth, his cum slowly dripping out the corners of your lips as you pull away.
he tastes bitter, the vast amount a little hard to swallow but you manage nonetheless. the sight of you struggling has the man smirking, obviously loving the way you look with his mess dripping down onto your top.
“you look so pretty like this.”
“pretty only like this? wow you’re such a gentleman sim.”
“no,” he chuckles before pulling you up, your body slightly falling onto his at the force. his arms are quick to stable you, literally manhandling you to straddle over his lap in which you were more than happy to do, “you’re always pretty. the prettiest.”
your heart unknowingly skips a beat to his sudden compliment, as if you didn’t just suck him off and as if there wasn’t a massive cum stain on your top. you knew jake had a way with his words when it came to the ladies but this? this wasn’t what you were expecting him to say, not to you, his best friend.
“what?” he laughs, his hands already at the ends of your top, hastily pulling it over without hesitation, “where did that bratty mouth of yours go?”
“jake...” you whimper at the coldness hitting your skin, the sensation making you hard inside your bra.
“shit. you’re perfect.”
he yanks on your hair as he says so, pulling your head back so he could attack the exposed skin on your neck. you’re already a moaning mess at this point, the feeling of his lips on your sensitivity, one that has you seeing white all over.
“you don’t like it when i’m nice but prefer it when i’m like this?” his grip in your hair tightens more, making you whimper out in surprise, much to his liking. you could feel him smiling into your skin, as if pleased by your reaction to his actions.
the man is being rough and as sick as it was, you were enjoying every second of it.
“you even sound pretty, i wonder what you’d sound like if i were to fuck you,” jake’s voice is one you’ve never heard from him before, raspy and deep. even deeper than his morning voice, which you’ve always found so fucking hot already.
“do you want me to fuck you?”
“god yes jake, please.”
you never understood why you and jake hadn’t fucked yet. you’ve sucked his dick, given him handjobs and he has fingered you here and there. but that’s all it ever got to. despite the oh-so-obvious sexual tension that always followed you both aound, you two just didn't fuck.
“as much as i want to hear you, you have to try to be quiet tonight,” his lips makes its way towards yours, leaving behind a trail of gentle kisses on your skin, “jay is next door-”
“maybe you should’ve thought of that 30 minutes ago, when i was sleeping. too late now.”
and to your horror, there standing at jake’s opened door is his handsome roommate jay who looked like he was about to burn the apartment down with his glare alone. the man’s unkempt hair and boxers-only outfit tells you perhaps he had been sleeping, which made you feel awful for being so loud just now.
but despite his glares, you noticed one other thing. it’s that he’s looking directly at you, at your barely covered chest, like he had been the entire time he was standing there.
fuck.
end.
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Heir
Anthony Bridgerton x reader
summary: telling Anthony she's with child after facing difficulties getting pregnant
It's been three years since the wedding between Anthony Bridgerton and Y/n. The love between the two was one of the strongest anyone could have ever seen, it was obvious that they were made for each other.
They met in a very unusual way. While Anthony was courting Edwina Sharma, Y/n was seen very close to Benedict, the two of them discreetly courting each other. However, they both quickly realized that the connection between them was better as a friendship than a romantic relationship, where things seemed quite forced and uncomfortable. At the same time, Viscount Bridgerton had also broken up with Edwina after she had doubts on their wedding day.
Y/n remembered that day perfectly. She was sitting next to Benedict and the Bridgerton family on the chairs waiting for Edwina to appear and the wedding to begin. She waved a fan, trying to alleviate the horrible heat in that room. The delay seemed to make everyone nervous, especially Anthony who had drops of sweat falling from his forehead and was speaking hurriedly to his mother.
Finally, the doors opened, but, to everyone's surprise, it wasn't Edwina walking down the aisle, it was Kate Sharma, her sister. She didn't look happy, walking with an air of confidence and a serious expression, her eyes never leaving Anthony. The two exchanged quick words, until Anthony dropped his head and closed his eyes in frustration, but he still nodded and Kate left.
After a few tense seconds, Anthony finally had the courage to look at the people watching the scene and said that the wedding had been cancelled, before leaving the room too, leaving the murmur that formed.
"What a scandal." a lady gossiped with another, the two starting a conversation about what could have happened, some theories being completely ridiculous and that could ruin the family's reputation.
Y/n couldn't help herself and turned to them with a polite but sarcastic smile. "My apologies for interrupting, but the only scandal here is the fact that your son, who decided to be a priest, got so many prostitutes pregnant that only they could fill an entire line of these."
The woman gasped in horror while Benedict, who was listening to the conversation, had difficulty containing his laughter. "You foolish girl, how dare—"
"Excuse me, but I have better things to do than sit here and imagine what could have happened." Y/n got up from her chair, looking at the women one last time before going to try and find Anthony.
Despite being acquaintances, since Y/n was so close to Benedict, the two had never spoken much. However, the woman was still worried about Viscount. When she found him, sitting on the porch floor with his head in his hands, Y/n kept him company, also sitting in silence. From then on, a relationship was formed between the two that quickly became inseparable.
"My love, daydreaming again?" Anthony hummed, breaking Y/n out of his thoughts. The man wrapped his shoulders around her waist and pulled her closer, gently kissing her head. "What are you thinking about?"
"How lucky I am."
"Well, I'm the lucky one. I have a beautiful wife who I love very much. I couldn't live without you." he confessed, causing a blush to appear on her cheeks as it always did when he pronounced his love for her. "I have to go finish some paperwork, but then I'll come see you so we can go visit Daphne's son."
Y/n nodded, giving him a quick kiss and sighing as she watched him go to his office. Daphne had just had her second child, a beautiful baby boy. The couple was going to visit the family so that Y/n could help with whatever her sister-in-law needed while Anthony and Simon were going to entertain the baby's brother, a toodler who demanded a lot of attention.
Even though Y/n loved their children with all her heart, it only reminded her of what she couldn't give Anthony. The couple had been trying to get pregnant since they got married, but without success. Anthony's wife had already cried on his shoulder many times because she couldn't carry the child, her heart breaking every time she started her period.
Even though the Bridgerton man assured her several times that all he needed to be happy was her, Y/n still wanted to give him a heir. She wanted the house to be full of their children's laughter and for them to be able to create a mini version of them, a product of their love.
However, he tried not to occupy his days thinking solely about that. It was enough of all the doctors she had seen who told her that it was her fault, that her womb was not capable of developing a baby. Of course, Anthony, as soon as he heard those accusations and the look of complete heartbreak from his wife, demanded that they leave his house.
Y/n she couldn't take the blame anymore, going into a state of shock and for three days she refused to get out of bed. However, her husband would not accept that. He just wanted her to be happy, even if they never had children.
"We don't need children to be happy, I only need you. We have so many nieces and nephews who can take on my role, and we can take care of them from time to time, I'm sure my siblings wouldn't mind." Y/n remembered Anthony telling her this firmly, his hands grabbing her cheeks as they both had tears in their eyes.
And since then, they've never brought it up again.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
"Lady Bridgerton, are you feeling alright?" one of the maids asked worriedly when she saw Y/n enter the dining room for breakfast, immediately turning paler when she smelled the eggs. "Should I fetch for Viscount Bridgerton?"
She had time to shake her head before running to the nearest bathroom, dropping herself onto the cold floor and emptying the contents of her stomach. She could feel tears forming in her eyes, gagging at the sour taste that remained in her mouth. With unsteady legs, she got up and went to wash her mouth, the maids who entered the bathroom right after her helped her to hold herself upright.
However, she quickly realized that she wasn't finished yet when a new wave of nausea consumed her and she knelt again in front of the toilet. She felt strong hands, which she recognized as Anthony's, caress her face before grabbing her hair.
"Oh, Anthony…" she moaned in discomfort. "I don't want you to see me like this."
"Hey, none of that. Come here, love." he comforted, helping turn her around and supporting her against the wall when she was finished. He took a towel and started wiping her mouth.
When Y/n had the strength to open her eyes, she saw her husband's face analyzing her closely, looking for anything that could be wrong. The concern that swam in his eyes made her raise a hand and rest it on his cheek, and he turned slightly to be able to give her a lingering kiss on her palm.
"How are you feeling? I'm going to call the doctor. Are you okay with staying with one of the maids until I get back?"
Y/n held his arm, preventing him from getting up. "No, please don't go. I'm alright now. If this continues, I promise you can call the doctor, this is probably an one time thing. Let's not worry about it."
Anthony sighed, locked in a staring contest with the most important woman in his life. Accepting defeat, but with a serious look that screamed that if that happened again she would see a doctor, the Viscount picked up Y/n, carrying her to their bed.
Laying her down gently and helping Y/n take off her dress, the man pulled the covers up, making sure she was comfortable. Afterwards, he took off his shirt and pants, lying down next to her.
"What are you doing? We can't be in bed already, especially you. It's only morning, we still have many obligations to fulfill."
"No. My wife is not feeling well, and I'm going to take care of her. The paperwork can wait, as well as all my meetings. I just want you to be healthy." Anthony brought her closer to him, Y/n resting her head on his chest so she could hear his heartbeat. "Now, sleep. You need it."
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
It happened again. More specifically, two more times Y/n threw up her meals. The first time, she was alone and not wanting to worry anyone, she preferred to remain silent. After all, she could still be recovering from some kind of illness. The second time, it was in the presence of her most trusted maid, who she considered a friend, Joanne. And so she begged her not to tell the Bridgerton man about it, claiming she would see someone.
Alone, because in addition to feeling sick, she also realized that her period, which was always regular, should have already arrived. Her first thought was that she was pregnant. But upon thinking better, she questioned this possibility. After so many years of trying and failing, why would she be pregnant now? There must be another explanation.
However, she did not share these possibilities with Anthony because the last thing she wanted was to give him hope only to end up disappointed with her inability to give him a heir. Fortunately, Joanne accompanied her, helping Y/n explain to the doctor why the Viscount wasn't there with her.
And when she left that office, she could feel her legs losing strength. She placed a hand on her chest, starting to find it difficult to breathe in completely, still shocked by what the doctor had said to her.
Pregnant.
She was carrying Anthony's child in her womb, something they thought to be impossible. She was going to be a mother. Even though Anthony always assured her that he was completely happy with just her, Y/n knew that he would love being a father. At the beginning of their marriage, he had revealed to her that he dreamed of their family, their chhildren running through the garden while he chased after them and Y/n watched while sitting under the shade, her hand on her swollen belly.
And, by a miracle, this dream could become reality.
"Lady Bridgerton, are you ready to return to the mansion?" Joanne questioned after Y/n sat down in the carriage, her hands shaking together in her lap. Her gaze was understanding, in case she needed a few more moments alone to process this, but her lips held a small smile.
"I'm going to be a mother." she whispered.
"A wonderful, beautiful mother, I'm sure. Congratulations, Lady Bridgerton." she smiled, feeling enormous happiness for Y/n. She knew how much the couple had suffered. "Shall we return?"
Y/n nodded, no longer trusting her voice to speak. The woman took advantage of the short trip to process everything that was happening and before she knew it she was already in front of Anthony's office door.
With barely controlled excitement, she knocked on the door, waiting for permission to enter. When she heard Anthony's voice, she timidly opened the door, seeing that her husband was gathered with his brothers.
"Oh, my apologies. I didn't know your brothers were here. I can come back later."
"Nonsense, love. They can just leave." Anthony said, leaning back in his chair and opening his arms, an invitation for Y/n to come to him. The man, after already having Y/n in his arms, looked at Benedict and Collin, who were looking at him with a smirk. "Did you not hear? I told you to leave."
"Anthony, be nice!"
"It's not a problem, Y/n, we know when we are not wanted. Come on, Benedict, let's leave the lovebirds alone." Collin teased, getting up with his brother and leaving the room, but first, he took Y/n's hand and brought it to his lips. Benedict, for instance, kissed her cheek in a brotherly way. Despite their farewell with Y/n, Anthony was completely ignored by his brothers.
"Did you need something?" the man asked, putting all of his attention on Y/n, who began to fidget with her fingers nervously.
"Actually, I have to tell you something. I went to the doctor today…"
"What? Y/n, why didn't you tell me? Did you feel bad again? Nauseous? What did the doctor say? Are you okay?"
"Calm down, my love. I'm better than fine. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about being sick again, but I didn't want to worry you." she admitted, feeling guilty that Anthony was feeling precisely what she didn't want. "Well, I received some very interesting news."
"Please, just tell me what's wrong. I can't bear not knowing if something is wrong with you." he muttered with a pained look, as if he felt physical pain when thinking about the possibility of Y/n being hurt or unwell.
"Anthony…" she said his name with so much love that he shuddered. "I'm pregnant."
A silence formed in the room. Anthony took so long to react, just looking at her intensely as if he didn't know what was true or not, that Y/n began to feel worry invade her system. Was he not happy? Did he not want a child with her anymore?
"W-What?" Anthony finally managed to whisper, his heart having stopped as soon as he heard those words. "You're pregnant? With my child?"
"Well, obviously." Y/n rolled her eyes. "Are you happy?"
"Happy? My love, I'm more than happy. I love you so much. And I love our child too." the man kissed her fiercely, needing to convey all his love and adoration for her in that kiss.
He was addicted to his wife's lips, and now that he knew she was carrying his child, something animalistic was released inside him. Without giving any warning, he grabbed Y/n and twirled her around, without ever taking his lips off hers. Even so, Y/n giggled against them, circling her hands around his neck and holding on tight.
When her feet touched the floor, the Viscount knelt in front of her, his hands resting hesitantly on her stomach. He looked at Y/n in permission, who just nodded in encouragement and placed her hand on his brown hair, stroking his scalp.
Very gently, Anthony kissed his wife's still flat stomach. "Hello, you. I'm your father and I love you and your mother very much. You two are my entire life."
And the two stayed like that for the rest of the day, moving to the bedroom where Anthony continued to talk to Y/n's belly while exchanging passionate kisses with her. A beautiful new stage had begun in their lives, and they couldn't wait to meet their heir.
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