#I’m not saying she should have left him to be abused

[fun-twisted-tales]

Maybe that claim that Elphaba was to blame for the lion being a coward was true. She knew he was a sentient Animal but abandoned him in a dark scary woods with no one to protect him? What did she expect honestly?

[imtryingbuck]

My Saviour

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Buckys just received some news from the love of his life.

Word count: 6,269

Warnings: angst. fluff. suicidal thoughts. Bucky’s past mentioned. insecurities. scars mentioned. Bucky being madly in love. reader being an angel. past cheating and domestic abuse. pregnancy (it’s me im sorry) me not knowing anything about courts/sentencing.

Translation: ты мой спаситель - you’re my saviour (if wrong take it up with google translation)

Masterlist

Bucky wished Steve was still around so he could talk to him about things. He wish that his best friend was still there to see the progress he was slowly making. Wished to know if his best friend was proud of him.

But most importantly he wished Steve chose to stay with him and Sam so he could have met the person who brought him back to life, who brought his long existence actual meaning other than jumping from fight to fight. He knew Steve would have loved her and probably would have thanked her for everything.

But sadly Steve went to live a different life without him so he had to deal with Sam all alone.

For a year after Steve left Bucky struggled to go out, he struggled to find his path in a world that he wasn’t suppose to be apart of. He should have died that day when he fell from the train.

His therapist tried to get him to go out into the world and meet people, Bucky would say ‘next time’ until Dr Raynor eventually gave up on trying.

For a whole year Bucky moved with the motion, just existing, alive and breathing but just barely holding on to that invisible thread.

That was until six years ago. Six years ago everything changed.

** six years ago **

“Buck please-“

“Don’t call me that! How many times do I have to tell you”

“Oh I’m sorry Sir Bucky! But like I said please just come with me? It would do you some good to get out of your apartment, wait Bucky are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m listening. I do get out-“

“To see your therapist and that’s it”

“I’m still going out aren’t I?” Bucky responds snappily, rolling his eyes as Sam groans through the speaker.

“Please Bucky, it’s just coffee!”

“God sake, okay. I’ll be there. Bye” He really didn’t want to go out and get a coffee with Sam but he ended agreeing knowing that he would not have stopped, probably even going as far as coming to his apartment just to drag him out of there. Since Steve left, poor Bucky had been left all alone on with Sam, okay it wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be but still he had been left with a man that annoyed him more than anything.

Groaning inwardly he slides his phone into his jeans front pocket before shoving his gloved hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, as he walked down the street he kept his head down so he didn’t make eye contact with anyone walking by. It was safer that way. For him and those around him.

“James Barnes” he spoke roughly to the receptionist who made a habit of always pushing her chest out so he could get an eye full of her cleavage.

“Take a seat” she responds batting her eyelashes with her chest pushed out. He thought after the tenth time of him rolling his eyes at her not so subtle attempt at flirting she would get the hint.

He was not interested.

“S-sorry is this seat taken?” A soft timid voice from a woman pulled Bucky out of his staring competition he was having with the fake plant by the water dispenser.

“Huh?”

“Is-is anyone sitting here?”

“No. No you can sit”

“T-thank you” Bucky smiled and nodded softly instantly curious as to why she was also seeing a therapist. Bucky found himself getting lost in the smell of her perfume, the sweet smell creeping up his nostrils and into his senses. His eyes focused on the slow motion of her leg closest to his bouncing in time with the ticking of the clock.

“S-sir?”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“A-are you um are you J-James Barnes?”

Great just great. She knows who he is and from the way she stutters his name she clearly knows what he’s done and is scared of him. “Yes that’s me” he finally answers.

“Y-your names b-been called sir” she points over to where the receptionist is and sees her waiting for him to follow her down the hallway to Dr Raynors office.

Oh. Oh okay he got it wrong. “Oh, thank you”

“Y-your welcome sir”

Bucky offers her a small smile that she responds with the same and follows Lila down the corridor. He has no idea that the small smile he gave her meant a great deal to her. Nor does he know that she talks about him to her therapist that was two doors down from his.

Neither one realises that one small smile would make such a massive impact on their lives.

Over the course of four months, twice a week Bucky would see the woman whose name he had yet to know, every time they sat patiently in the waiting room they would find themselves sitting next to each other. Always quietly asking if the seat next to them was taken. Even if there were other available seats.

Dr Raynor had quite enjoyed hearing about the woman who seemed to have taken residence in Bucky’s mind. And Dr Harlow was proud of hearing that her patient was seeing someone new. She laughed when her patient blushed and began stumbling over her words that she was not seeing this man in that sense.

Bucky walked in to the waiting room expecting to find the woman whose presence he had become content being around only to frown at seeing the two seats that became unofficially theirs empty. The whole time he waited for her but she never showed. His name was called, as he followed Lila he kept turning his head back to the double doors in hopes that he would catch a glimpse of her. Walking into the room he frowned at seeing Dr Raynor and another woman sitting down. This was new.

“James, this is Dr Harlow.”

“Hi?”

“Hello James”

“What’s wrong? I didn’t do-“

“No, no James it’s… well you know the woman you’ve been telling me about?” Raynor cuts him off and waits for him to nod “well Dr Harlow is her therapist, Y/n was rushed in to the hospital early hours this morning-“

“Y/n? That’s her name? Wait… what happened to her? Is she okay? Where is-“

“James, she’s okay. We can’t disclose anything about what happened but-well you see Y/n has been talking about you in her sessions, nothing bad don’t worry, and you’ve been talking about her so we agreed that we should let you know”

Bucky sat there staring at his doctor as his mind raced with questions. She was in the hospital? Her name suited her perfectly. Why was she in the hospital? Who hurt her? She talked about him? ‘Nothing bad’ the good doctor stressed. Is she okay? “James?”

“Yeah erm, are you sure she’s okay?”

“Yes. We, well we talked to each other” Raynor points at between herself and Dr Harlow “and we think it would be a great opportunity for you to talk to her, maybe offer her some support-“

“Why me? Aren’t you two the therapists?”

“Yes we are but James I don’t think you realise how much those smiles and a few quiet words mean to Y/n. Nor she with you, now in my opinion I think it would be nice if the pair of you had someone to lean on when you don’t have a session.”

Thinking it over for a few minutes he nodded and agreed. Dr Harlow said Y/n had mentioned that she felt safe with him which made his heart race faster than usual at hearing that a complete stranger felt safe around him when he was so use to it being different. No one felt safe around him, hell he didn’t even feel safe with himself but yet she did. Not even ten seconds after the door closed behind Dr Harlow did Bucky start questioning his doctor about what had happened or where she was so he could go and see her, he just wanted to make sure she was fine but Raynor held strong and didn’t back down from the harsh glare he was sending towards her. She never did though to be honest.

Ten minutes later Dr Raynor thought it was best to cut their session short, though promised him that she would make out that they did the full hour.

Two weeks. Two whole weeks it had been since he was told that she was in the hospital and he hadn’t seen her. That day he thought it wouldn’t be any different to the other days where he expected to see her, until he turned his back on Lila who thankfully now took the hint that he wasn’t interested in her. His eyes squinted at seeing someone sitting in their seats.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked quietly, hoping that the woman in front of him would raise her head and smile as she said ‘no you can sit’. And when she did. Well… let’s just say that what he wanted to do to whoever had caused such pain and suffering to his Y/n he wouldn’t have pinned it on the Winter Soldier. No because Bucky Barnes would have happily admitted to shedding blood that wasn’t his own. Happily and proudly.

“N-no you can sit” she responds with that smile he sees when he closes his eyes at night.

“Doll-“ Lila cuts him off by calling his name signalling that it was his time, he nods at her then faces Y/n. “After your session I’m going to be waiting right here okay, and I want to take you for a coffee.”

“O-okay” Y/n says with a shy smile. Bucky smiles back before going up to Lila, eyebrows burrowing when she doesn’t lead him down the corridor. And that’s when it finally hits him. He had never seen her doing that to any of the other patients.

He tells Dr Raynor that Y/n was back, told her the bruises that littered her beautiful face, told her what he had said to her and her response. “Go easy on her James, don’t try and rush her into telling you all of her secrets okay” but in the same breath suggests a nice place for him to take her.

Forty five minutes after his appointment had ended he was now sat a cross the table from Y/n with a black coffee in front of him and a hot chocolate in front of her.

“You know what I’m going to ask you don’t you?” He says with a gentle smile, she nods. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fi-fine now sir”

“Bucky, call me Bucky. How long was you in the hospital for?”

“A few d-days, Dr Harlow told me that she told you what happened”

“Not exactly they just said that you was in the hospital, wanted me to know since you talk about me all the time” winking at her when she blushed.

“I-I d-don’t”

“All the time they said, said that your obsessed with me”

“Well y-you talk a-about me too!”

“Me? Never!” Bucky was ninety nine point nine percent sure that he had died right there and then and went to heaven when she laughed. He was sure of it. Her laugh could only described as angelic. God he wanted to hear it again and again until he dying breath.

“I-it was my ex” she whispered. She wasn’t stupid she knew what he wanted to ask.

“Where is he now?”

“Jail still, h-have to go court in-in two weeks. My lawyer said h-he’ll be going to prison for a long time, he broke the protection order an-and well this” she said gesturing to her face.

“You had a protection order against him?”

“Yes, throughout our relationship he was abusive the o-only way I managed to get out was because he had been cheating on me with a friend of mine, he left me a-and I was so happy because it meant that I didn’t have to suffer no more but the friend didn’t want him anymore because the fun of sneaking around had gone”. Taking a deep breath before sipping on her hot chocolate she continued. “He broke into my apartment and attacked me because I said no to taking him back, police was called by my neighbour and I got the restraining order against him because I could do that then, he went to prison and h-he got out three weeks ago, he broke into my apartment again and did this b-but the police arrived quickly as I already rang them”

“Doll… I’m so sorry”

“It’s okay. I’m okay now”

“It’s not okay Y/n”

“It is what it is, he’ll be going to prison for a long time and I’ll be able to live my life again.” She smiled.

“W-when is it that you have to go to court?”

“In two weeks, why?”

“Can I come with you? To offer my support” With her lack of response he knew he overstepped. Of course she isn’t going to want the former Winter Soldier to come with her to face another monster in her life. He’s about to apologise until she smiles once more and nods.

“I would really like that. Thank you Bucky” Bucky smiled and nodded.

Their second cup of hot drinks had slowly grown cold as the conversation flowed effortlessly between the pair. Bucky loved the way she no longer stuttered or stumbled over her words the longer they spoke. She was about to say something when a bang from the window startled the pair of them.

“Great.” He muttered.

“D-do you know him?”

“Who the crazy guy with his face squashed up against the window? Unfortunately” Y/n giggled at his words then looked at the man who did in fact have his face squashed up against the window, his eyes moving back and forth between herself and Bucky. Waving shyly at the man who waved excitedly back Bucky rolled his eyes. “You do realise you’ve just basically invited him in, don’t you? Oh see now he’s entering.”

“Stop being mean”

“Didn’t expect to see you here Barnes. Hi I’m Sam, Bucky’s best friend in the whole world”

“Hi Sam, I’m Y/n” she shakes his hand and smiles at Bucky who sits there rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Scoot over then Bucky. So how did you two meet?”

Bucky looked at Y/n to see if she was comfortable with letting him know, she just smiled. “We met in therapy”

“Oh, are you a therapist?”

“No, no I’m a patient”

“Does it help?”

“Sam!”

“What? I’m just asking”

Giggling at the two men “it’s fine Bucky, it has been helping. My therapist is really nice and understanding”

“That’s great. So did you two meet from group therapy or?”

“No we actually sat next to each other in the waiting room”

“Aw that’s so cute!” Sam winks at her whilst Bucky grumbled under his breath.

Sam ends up convincing Bucky and Y/n in getting something to eat not that he puts up to much of a fight as both of them were hungry themselves. Once again conversation flows effortlessly, even Bucky joined in with the laughter.

After food was eaten and an argument between the three about who was going to pay - Y/n winning when the two men were still arguing over the bill - they walked her all the way to her apartment. Bucky’s heart clenched painfully seeing her front door with dried blood on it. Sam noticed too and smiled sadly at his friend.

Two whole weeks passed, in those two weeks Sam kept “bumping” into the pair, the three of them would walk around talking about their lives, both of the men noticing that she was very vague about her life but neither one pushed her into saying more.

Today was the day where Y/n was going to court, as she stood outside she checked her watch worrying that Bucky wasn’t going to show up, not like he needed to he didn’t owe her anything anyway. She turned around to head up the many steps when her names called, turning she sees Bucky running over towards her. Sam following closely behind.

“Hey, hi, sorry we’re late I tried to shake this one off but he’s persist-“

“No it’s okay, I-I really appreciate the pair of you coming today. It means so much”

“You’re welcome sunshine, you’ve got our support” Sam smiles wrapping his arms around her squeezing slightly.

“Y/n? We need to go in” her lawyer says from the large brown double doors.

Sam nods to the pair and heads up the steps, Bucky smiled “me and Sam are here for you, it’s going to be okay”

“I’m scared about seeing him again b-but I-I can do it” Bucky’s hand reached out to hers that shook.

“I’ve got you, I promise”

“T-th-thank you Bucky”

Hand in hand they head up to where Sam was waiting patiently and followed the lawyers lead into the courtroom. Bucky’s knee wouldn’t stop bouncing from anger as Y/n bravely stood in the witness stand and gave her statement, hearing all the things that the bastard did to her made him want to attack him. Sam knew what was going through his friends head, honestly? He wasn’t going to be far behind him.

Three hours later her ex received a ten year sentence. Bucky watched as her body relaxes by hearing the judges words. He and Sam smiles at her when she turns around, her eyes moving along the rows to find where they sat, smiling as soon as she lands on them.

After leaving the courthouse Bucky took her hand in his again and the three of them went to the restaurant that Sam had suggested, in a way to celebrate Y/n’s new found freedom. Neither one of the men mentioned about what they heard or the photos they saw in the courtroom, other than telling her that they were proud of her bravery.

Six months had passed before any of them had realised, both of the therapists were proud of seeing completely different people sitting in front of them in their sessions. Bucky opened up more and so did Y/n, not only to their therapists but to each other.

The knock on the door pulled Bucky away from his bickering with Sam as his friend argued that pineapple on pizza was nice. “I’ll ask Y/n and see what she says! Hey doll”

“Hey, sorry I’m late”

“You’re not, don’t worry. Hey does pineapple belong on pizza?” He asked taking her coat and hanging it up on the hook.

“I’ve tried it and I like it” she waves to Sam.

“See! Sam I told you it was nice”

“But you said-“

“Shut up. Sam said that it was wrong but I said it was nice”

“No yo-“

“So how was your day?” Sam looked at Y/n mouthing ‘he’s lying’ making her giggle, she goes on to tell them all about her day which had Bucky hanging on to every word she spoke.

Halfway through the film Sam had picked Y/n went to the bathroom, Bucky eyed Sam curiously as the latter was sitting there grinning at him. “What?”

“Whens the wedding?”

“What wedding?”

“Yours and Y/ns”

“We’re not getting married? Why are you smiling like that?”

“If you say so, hey when are you going to tell her you love her?”

Choking on his beer Bucky shook his head “I don’t love her Sam”

“Okay, how about you telling her that you’re in love with her?”

“Sam shut up.”

“Nope. So when are you going to tell her?”

“I’m not going too alright. It’s just-it doesn’t matter alright just drop it”

“Drop what?” Y/n asked walking back into the living room.

“Pineapple being on pizza” Bucky says quickly his eyes going wide looking at Sam.

Laughing she shakes her head sitting back down next to Bucky “we’re not having this argument anymore boys”

“Try telling him that Y/n/n” now it’s Bucky’s turn to have a grin on his lips as Sam’s eyes squint at the pair.

“Sunshine has Bucky told you yet?”

“Told me what?”

“That he loves y-“

“Yogurts.”

“You… love yogurts?” She asked him with her eyebrow raised, Sam struggles to contain his laughter seeing Bucky become a stuttering mess.

“Yes… I love yogurts, problem?”

“Nope no problem here” If Y/n wasn’t snuggling into his left side Bucky would have throttled Sam.

The knock on her door startled her from the tv screen in front of her - it didn’t help that she was watching a horror and that a jump scare was about to happen when the knock came.

“Bucky? Hey, are you okay?”

“I-I was just in the neigh-neighbourhood a-and I thought that I’d st-stop by”

“Yeah come in, James is everything alright?”

“Yeah, w-why?”

“It’s just that you’re stuttering… and I’m just worried that’s all”

“S-someone said something about me, it-it wasn’t good” he admitted twisting the bottle cap from the water bottle she had gave him.

“What did they say?”

“It doesn’t matter, I-I just wanted to see you-you know because I was in the neighbourhood”

The truth was he wasn’t, he had finally listened to Dr Raynors advice and go out. His plan was to go down the corner store to get some essentials in. Get in, get out that was easy and simple. He could do it. Until he heard two men who were talking clearly and loudly about him their conversation attracting the attention of others passing by them. And that’s when he realised his second mistake that day, the first mistake being to agree to go out, the second being that he forgot his gloves. The comments were harsh and unkind.

His first response was to put his head down shoving his hands into his pockets and walk all the way to Y/n’s apartment. Even if it was a forty minute walk.

Bucky needed to see her, he didn’t care if they sat in silence just as long as he was with her, he didn’t care if she forced him to watch that terrible tv show.

“Come on let’s watch something and have cuddles”

He was safe with her. Calmer. Happier. More comfortable and relaxed.

“Have you asked her?”

“No Samuel I haven’t”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t seen her today”

“Why?”

“Because she had her session with Dr Harlow”

“Why?”

“Sam, I’m going to punch you in the face”

“Wh-“

Bucky rolled his eyes and put the phone call down. He couldn’t bear to hear why one more time. He was too busy going over what he was going to ask Y/n, so many things could go wrong she could say no, it would be weird as they’ve only known each other for a year now. She’s going to say no. Of course she is. He can’t ask, he just ca-

“Buck? Open up my arms hurt”

Buck. Buck, the name Sam was not happy about hearing slipping out of her mouth. He had tried years to call him that but always got shot down. It wasn’t fair.

“Buck? Shit are you not in?”

“No! No I’m in doll, hi, hello, hi”

“Hi, hello, hi to you too” Bucky laughs taking the bags off her arms carefully, then takes them into the kitchen. A month ago Y/n moved in to his apartment with him after the landlord put up the rent making her struggle to keep paying the higher rent, Bucky caught her looking for a new place to live when he suggested her living with him, she first denied but Bucky swore and promised that he was more than happy to let her stay with him, she ended up agreeing, Bucky could have cried with happiness all night but managed to contain himself.

“Did you get everything?”

“Nope, forgot absolutely everything you asked for” sticking her tongue out at him, he laughed.

God he loves her weirdness.

“So I- god sake Sam, hold on pretty girl. What now Sam? No I haven’t. Because she’s just walked in. You’re so needy do you know that? Okay I’ll ask now. Yes I’ll do it whilst you’re on the phone. Y/n, do you want to come to Louisiana with Sam and I?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we’re going for a week to see his sister and nephews and we want you to come too”

“Will his sister mind me being there?”

“No. So?”

“Are you guys really sure?”

“Absolutely”

“O-okay, that would be nice”

His smile doesn’t just take up his face but Sam’s as well “good, good. Did you hear Sam? Okay see you later” chucking his phone on to the counter he turns back to Y/n. “We leave tomorrow”

“Tomorrow? Oh god okay, I’ll go and pack now”

Two days later they arrive in Louisiana after both men took it in turns to drive, it was long and tiring for them but Y/n loved it. She had never been out of New York before so she was taking in the sights. When Bucky wasn’t driving he would watch her from his seat, seeing her face lit up made his heart tingle.

“Are you sure she won’t mind me being here?”

“I promise, she’s excited to meet you” Sam reassures her as he pulls up the gravelled driveway.

Greeting his sister and nephews, Bucky doing the same Sarah turned her attention to Y/n instantly engulfing her in a warm embrace. “It’s so nice to finally meet you”

“You too” she smiled softly.

Later that night after putting their things away they all sat outside watching as the sun started to set, Sam was manning the grill and Bucky were chasing the two boys around making them squeal with laughter and excitement. Sarah and Y/n were talking when Sarah asked the woman sitting in front of her something that made her choke and splutter on her drink.

“W-we aren’t to-together”

“Are you sure? The way he looks at you makes me think differently”

“No, no we’re just friends. Plus he wouldn’t like me so”

“Do you like him?”

“I-yes. But I would rather have him as my friend than not have him in my life”

“Tell him how you feel”

“No I can’t do that!”

“You can”

“No I can’t”

“Can’t what?” Bucky’s voice comes from behind her. Sarah has to stifle her laughter as Y/ns eyes went as wide as saucers.

“I-erm nothing.”

“Okay? Hey there’s a crab down on the beach that the boys have found, want to come and see it?”

“O-okay” Bucky smiles and holds out his hand for her to take, helping her stand he keeps his hand in hers as they walk towards the two boys.

“Is she in love with him?”

“I think so, hopefully they’ll admit their feelings because they’re so cute together” Sarah says with her eyes trained on the two fading figures, Sam smirks before flipping the burgers.

Later that night Y/n got startled when she went into the bathroom seeing Bucky standing motionless in front of the mirror. “Shit! Bucky you scared- hey are you okay?”

“I-I’m fi-I’m not okay Y/n/n” Y/n moved so quickly wrapping her arms around him, both falling on the ground.

“It’s okay, it’s okay” the sobs wracked through his body making her body shake. She kept repeating those words like a mantra.

“M-my hair”

“Your hair? What about it?”

“I-I want it gone, please, please help me g-get rid of it”

Her heart broke at hearing him sounding so small, in the whole year of knowing him he had always sounded so strong, and confident. Also she loved his hair and they both knew it, on nights where they cuddled up together on the couch watching movies her fingers would always end up playing with the soft strands of hair.

“A-are you sure?” feeling him nodding against her chest “okay, let me find some scissors and a clipper and I’ll do it for you okay?” Trying to stand was difficult especially since having a super soldier clinging to her. “Buck, I need to stand”

Finding the scissors was easy, it was just finding the clippers she had a difficult time coming up on. Cheering silently in triumph when she discovered them in the fourth draw. “Should we go outside so we don’t wake everyone up?”

“O-okay. Leave the light on Cass is scared of the dark, Sarah leaves the bathroom light on for him” Bucky whispered wrapping both of his hands around her free one.

Outside with only the porch light illuminating them, Y/n started cutting his hair the shorter it got the more Bucky started to relax. When it came to trimming his hair Bucky’s left arm reached around to tug on her waist, bringing her around to stand in between his legs, he smiled shyly up at her. Without thinking she leaned down as she placed her lips to his forehead. His arms snaked around the back of her legs squeezing lightly.

“I-it’s done, maybe Sam can fix it up later if it’s bad?”

“I bet y-you did a good job”

“Would you be mad if I said you had a massive bald spot right on the top of your head?”

He laughed and shook his head “no I won’t be mad”

“It’s a good job that there isn’t one isn’t there?”

“Y/n, thank you, i-it means a lot to me. Thank you”

“You don’t need to thank me. D-do you want to talk about what happened?”

“It was a nightmare. Just about my past” leading her over to the hammock on that swayed ever so lightly from the night breeze. “T-they did bad things to me, made me do worse”

“I’m here if you want to talk about it” she says squeezing his hand.

“They made me kill people, even when I completed the mission to their satisfaction they would still punish me and I never knew why. The chair was the worst, I-I did what I was told to do and I was still punished.”

Looking at the water he breathed deeply, he was about to tell her something to no one else knew, not even his therapist. “I-I’ve wanted to end my life since coming back from Wakanda b-b-but not since I met you I swear!”

“Oh Buck”

“It was easier to end it you know? But I couldn’t do it, I needed to try and make up for all the damage I caused.”

“Bucky it was-“

“It was though, wasn’t it? It was me the whole time”

“It wasn’t. Bucky you wasn’t in control of your own mind, your a good man, an incredible man - don’t scoff at me mister - you are, if you don’t believe me think about Sarah, even though I don’t know her all that well she seems to have a good sense of judgement, do you really think that she would let you be around her babies if she thought you was a bad person?”

Thinking her words over he had to agree with her words about Sarah even Sam wouldn’t let him anywhere near his sister and his nephews. Hell Tony wouldn’t have allowed him near his wife or daughter if they believed he was the monster that he still believed he was. “Y-you’re right”

Now it was her turn to think over the words from Sarah earlier that night. It was most likely going to blow up in her face and she was going to lose him as a friend forever but maybe just maybe Sarah could be right. “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if you were a bad person Buck”

The silence that followed was killing her. She should have just kept her mouth shut.

He however couldn’t believe his ears. Surely she was playing a trick on him. There was no way this perfect angel as he always described her would ever feel the same way as him. Surely.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I-I’ll go n-“

He cuts her off by pressing his lips against hers. The kiss was soft, timid at first before they both gained their confidence their tongues dancing a slow dance together. Pulling away reluctantly Bucky leans his forehead against hers, both smiling widely at each other.

“I’m in love with you too” he whispered.

Nothing else was said. Nothing else was needed to be said.

Sam walks on to the porch with his hot cup of coffee that morning, his feet faltering when he sees Bucky and Y/n curled up together on the hammock fast asleep. Pulling his phone out he took a photo of the pair before running back into the house showing Sarah the photo.

As soon as they were back in New York Bucky asked Y/n out on a date, then another and another until he asked her to be his girlfriend. And soon enough she had moved into his room with him.

The first time she saw him topless was when he came out of the bathroom wearing grey joggers, he thought she was still in the living room. He heard the quiet gasp, he looked up to see her standing there and his stomach dropped.

“Y/n-“

“Your body… did the gods sculpt you? I-is that, two, four, six yep that’s an eight pack, how do you get an eight pack?”

Hearing her words he blushed with a little chuckle. “T-the scars-“

“Beautiful”

“Don’t lie to me”

“I would never lie to you Buck, everything about you is beautiful”

That night they made love for the first time, each of them taking their time in admiring the scars that littered their bodies. The second she pressed her lips delicately against the rough, raised patch where skin meets metal he honestly thought his heart was going to stop beating.

“ты мой спаситель, did you know that?” he whispered one night placing kisses on her bare shoulder.

“What does that mean?”

“ты мой спаситель?”

“Yeah”

“It means… your smelly”

“No it doesn’t” she laughs.

“No your right, it means you’re my saviour”

“Buck-“

“You are Y/n/n, you’ve saved me you’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been before a-and I know I wouldn’t still be here if it wasn’t for you”

“I’ll be with you until you want me to leave”

“So never” he laughed, pulling her body even closer to his. “I love you Y/n/n”

“I love you too Buck”

Bucky wished Steve was still around so he could talk to him about things. He wish that his best friend was still there so he could tell the blond about how nervous he was. He imagined Steve’s reaction as he fixed his tie for the ninth time within five minutes.

A year had passed, on their year anniversary Bucky got down on one knee and proposed, three months later he was standing in the spare bedroom of Sarah’s house in his suit as Sarah helped Y/n with her dress.

He really wished Steve was there to see him marrying his love.

A month before marrying both Sam and Bucky retired, both men tired of the bloodshed and nightmares. Sam told Bucky that he was going to move down to Louisiana, he even brought up a business proposal, Bucky had to admit it did sound tempting he promised Sam that he would run it by Y/n.

“Sam’s moving closer to Sarah, you know now that we’ve retired.”

“Oh, right”

“He erm he brought up a proposal to go into business together-“

“Did you say yes? Please tell me you said yes!”

“Why? Do you want to move to Louisiana?”

“Yes! I mean I knew Sam was going to move back there so I may or may not have been looking at houses down there…”

Sam cheered loudly down the phone when Bucky rang him to tell him that they were coming too.

“You ready Bucky?” Sam asked popping his head around the door.

“Yeah, yeah I’m ready”

Bucky faltered walking out of the house only expecting to see AJ, Cass and Roy - the man who was going to be marrying them - but yet all the people Y/n and himself had befriended over the two years they had been going to Louisiana, had showed up to watch them become one.

Being announced as husband and wife had their hearts doing a double take. They were married and neither one could believe it. And neither one could wipe the smile off their faces.

“ты мой спаситель… wait did I pronounce any of that right?” She panicked as they slow danced to the live music from a local band.

“Di-did you learn that just for me?”

“Yes” she giggled “so did I say it correctly?”

“Yes you did мой спаситель”

The celebration went on well into the night.

** present time **

“Buck?”

“Huh?”

“Did you just hear what I said?” Y/n looks up at him lightly nibbling on her bottom lip looking nervously.

Of course he had heard the words that came out of her mouth but those exact words made him think about how they met, and how far they both had come from being complete strangers who met in the waiting room of their therapist building to now being a happily married couple whose love continued to grow as the days passed.

“I did, but tell me again, please”

Oh how he can’t wait to tell his best friend Sam the news he had just received.

Taking his hands in hers she placed them on her still flat stomach and smiled.

“You’re going to be a dad.”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[alwaysanundertone]

Love can be overwhelming | poly! marauders x reader

angst

word count: 1.4 k

CW: mention of abusive household

tag list: @reggieswriter @call-me-mishi @moonyxoxo

part 1, part 2, part 3

Losing a Quidditch game usually resulted in James and Sirius taking their anger out on you, which you didn’t mind at all, but today was different. This time, Remus wasn’t going to leave you with the boys, Sirius was clearly upset with you, and James was probably going to be pissed for the loss.

You took a deep breath, taking Remus’s hand in yours and going straight to your dorm, waiting for your other boyfriends. You were pacing the room in front of Remus, the anxiety eating you alive; what you hated the most was the fact that you knew for sure that Sirius was mad at you.

“I’m an awful person, Rem, I couldn’t give Siri the attentions he needed when he was in pain“

“That’s right, you didn’t!” Sirius entered your room, James behind him. “I thought that being in a polyamorous relationship meant that I could count on three people when I was sad, instead you left me with poor James, do you want to stop this relationship now? So that you and Remus can go live happily ever after?! What the fuck, Y/N”

You felt your breath quicken, you knew that if he kept this up, you were going to break. “Sirius, you have to understand that- “

“No! None of that, I don’t want to hear it! You know what, Y/N? You’re just as heartless as everybody says, I was just too blind to see how the rumours were true.” You felt a pang to your chest, you knew that Sirius didn’t mean what he was saying, but it hurt you still. You spent your whole life battling against the fact that you usually didn’t know how to show love to the people you cared about, but you thought you’ve been good to them, you thought that all your efforts were seen. “You don’t give a fuck about other people’s wellbeing; you didn’t even ask me what happened! If we lost today, it was all your fault, you’re a self-centred-“

“Knock it off, Black. You don’t get to treat her like that! Just because your family is treating you like shit doesn’t mean you have to make everybody else feel what you’re feeling.”

“Remus, you’re the one to talk” You whipped your head in James’s direction. “You are the reason behind this mess, if you could control your stupid instincts everything would have been fine, and we’d be here celebrating our victory”

He scoffed. “Yeah, because it’s my fault if you both suck at Quidditch, isn’t it?” They kept on bickering, but you weren’t listening to them anymore, your mind too focused on Sirius words. You hated yourself for not being enough for them, maybe Dorcas was right, maybe you should have thought about it before diving headfirst in a poly relationship; you weren’t even sure if you were made for a relationship, period.  

“What, Y/N, too focused on yourself to care about our feelings?”

You decided you had enough, you needed time to think, and Sirius anger wasn’t helping you at all. “You know what? Yes, I am, because the ones who were supposed to love me just treated me like everybody else. So go fuck yourself, next time you’ll need me, I’ll be gone” You stormed off their dorm, running to your room and casting a spell, leaving them behind.

As you were about to start sobbing, Dorcas entered the room, sighing as she saw you on your bed. “You were right, Cas, maybe I’m not made for a relationship”

She shook her head, hugging you tightly. “Shh, don’t think about it now, okay? Tomorrow you’ll have time to process all of this, now you just have to rest.” She started scratching your back, singing a lullaby, and you found yourself falling in a deep slumber.

“Hey, Y/N” You mumbled something, covering your face with the duvet. “Y/N. It’s 2 P.M., you have to start studying”

That made you sit up so quickly, you felt dizzy. “Shit, the test” How could  you be so dumb?  Sacrificing all of the work you put to ace this test for a stupid fight was really pathetic, even for you.

“Yeah, the test, listen I finished your notes and made you some flashcards, now you just have to start studying, but first you should eat-“

The idea of seeing the marauders made you physically ill. “I don’t want to go-“

“Yes, I know, I brough you some food” She shook a paper bag in front of you. The fact that she spent her morning doing your work and even brought you food made you feel really close to crying, and she noticed it. “Nope, no more crying. I know you, you’re about to thank me, don’t do that! I’m your best friend, I love you and this is nothing, okay? I just want you to be happy, and I know you will feel like shit if you don’t pass this test. So, start studying, okay?” She kissed the top of your head. “I got to go, Marlene’s waiting for me. Love you, bye!”

She left you on the bed, staring at the now closed door.

You looked at the sandwich: she knew you too well, if she didn’t bring you food you wouldn’t have eaten, but since she brought it to you, you felt guilty.

You pulled out your flashcards and started eating, you could be heartbroken, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to fail for your stupid feelings.

Meanwhile, Sirius just woke up. His head was feeling heavy, but most of all, he was regretting every single thing he said to you. Deep down, he knew that you were just trying to be there for everyone, and that it wasn’t an easy task. Remus didn’t control his instincts; he couldn’t blame him for being clingy.

“Someone’s decided to grace us with his presence” The werewolf was looking down at him, his brows furrowed: he knew that look, he was mad.

“I’m so, so sorry” And just like that came the tears. Remus was stubborn, but if there was something that made him cave, that was his lovers’ tears, so he hugged him close to his chest. “I was awful to you yesterday, Y/N is going to leave us, I know it, and I hate to be the one to do this to you. If you want to leave me I will understand”

James scoffed. “Leave you? You really think we are this heartless? We know you didn’t want to act like that, Sirius. We just want to know what is happening, and then we’ll go and apologize to Y/N”

Remus scratched his head. “Thing is, I don’t know how we will get to her. I went to her room earlier and Cas was about to physically fight me”

“She won’t fight us, Rem, for God’s sake we’re Y/N’s boyfriends, she can’t stand between us. Back to you, Sirius, can you tell us why you acted that way?”

The long-haired man sighed. “It’s just- You know how awful the relationship with my family is, and I know it’s wrong but when I get their letters I don’t want to talk about it, I just expect everyone to know how I’m feeling and what to do about it. So, when she wasn’t there for me this time, I lashed out. Rationally, I know that Remus wasn’t being clingy because he didn’t want to share her, but because he gets super protective during the full moon. I hate myself for treating her that way, for using her weakness against  her, but I didn’t know how to communicate how I was feeling, so I just took my anger out on her, in the wrong way” He chuckled sadly. “If I was her, I’d break up with me.”

James shook his head. “She’s too good for her own good, Sirius, you know she won’t ever leave you. But we’ll have to talk it out, you know? You’ll have to be vulnerable, and I know  it’s difficult, but you’ll have to try for us”

Sirius nodded, everything for you. James pulled out the map, but as soon as he saw your name, gasped.

“What? What have you seen?”

“Y/N is in the infirmary” They exchanged a look, running out of their dorm room.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you're desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

Adrenaline buzzes in your ears and sears through your veins. You shouldn’t be here. Yet this place is no more treacherous than your home. Thing’s can’t get much worse so you may as well try to make them better. 

Or maybe you’re so desperate for it to end, that you don’t care how. 

You stand before the two men in their dark suits. They mutter as if you can’t hear them, “Warren’s girl.” 

“One of them,” the other intones. 

“Boss said not to bother.” 

You sway, your hands twined up behind your back. You expect to be turned away but you’re not ready for it. You chew the tip of your tongue. 

“I can wait,” you say. 

The don’t acknowledge you. They turn to block you out with their shoulders and lower their voices. One glances over his shoulder at you, Walker? Or something. 

“Your daddy send you?” He asks. 

You shake your head. You should probably lie but you’re no good at that. The throbbing in your swollen lip assures you of that. 

“So why should we let you in to see the boss? You out here at midnight looking like a tramp,” he challenges as he faces you again. 

“Hey, she looks like she’s had it bad enough. Don’t be a dick,” the other man reproaches. “Look, sweetheart,” he steps forward. “Man’s busy. With important business. Whatever you’re looking for, ask your daddy.” 

You could sob. Your father has no idea you’re there. If he did... if he knew why... 

Your shoulders slump and you hang your head in defeat. Why did you think this would work? It’s a fantasy. That same escapist wish you make every night when you cry yourself to sleep. 

You close your eyes and see Adrienne’s teary-eyes and Kitty’s helpless expression. You can’t let your sisters down. You can’t stand to see them suffer any longer. You can take it all, but it’s seeing him raise his hand to them that guts you. 

“I need to see him,” you raise your head. “I can wait.” 

You say you can but if your father realises you’re gone, if he finds out where you’ve gone, or even manages to guess why... 

Walker sighs. He elbows the other man. “Go tell him so can come back and tell her to scram on his orders.” 

The other man returns a dark look but goes inside. You hug yourself and shiver in the night air. You have only your quarter-zip sweater and a pair of silky pajama pants. You’re not surprised the men can barely keep from laughing at you. 

You wait. It takes longer than you expect. If anything, you would think they would only pretend to tell the boss. That’s what they all do. They lie. They ignore you. They just don’t care. So why are you here? Why would this go any other way? 

Before you can wave the white flag, the door opens. 

“In,” the man holds the door as he steps out.  

You flinch and Walker sneers at his partner in confusion. You’re just as surprised. The other man huffs. 

“Well, he said you got five minutes, so get.” 

You waver on your feet then scurry forward. You step inside the dark brick building, another man waiting just inside. He’s silent as he points you down the hall. He directs you with the terse gestures; upstairs, to the left, around another corner.  

You stop before a door with another duo standing vigil by the door posts. The left one knocks, tilts his head to listen, the opens it. You’re pointed inside.  

Your nerves flurry and wrap you up in a billowing storm. What are you doing? That question doesn’t matter. It’s too late. 

You drag your feet inside. The door slams at your back. The room is dim, lit only by a lamp with a glass shade on the large desk across from you. Behind that, sit a man. The man. Bucky Barnes. The boss. The king. 

He sits with his elbow bent over the armrest of his chair. He watches you calmly. You stand in silence by the door. He beckons you closer with two fingers. 

“Can’t see you back there, doll.” He says. 

You hold your breath and come forward. You gulp as you stop within a foot of the carved desk. Your eyes scour the vintage print of the wallpaper and the wooden paneling. This place is steeped in history. 

He raises his hand, cradling his face as he brings to fingers to his lips. He watches you patiently. Waiting. You stare back at him. You’ve never seen him this close. You don’t even know if your father has. 

“Why are you here?” He asks at last. 

Your eyes narrow on the gold sheen on his pinky. It’s the only safe place to look. You feel like you’ll melt in the blaze of his oceanic irises. You exhale. 

“I need someone dead.” 

He doesn’t answer. Your words dangle in the air as he mulls them. You purse your lips and wince at the pain in the split along the swollen flesh. 

“A man. The one who did that to you?” He sits up straight and points at you. You follow the glint of his ring. You nod. “Low life. Let me guess, daddy doesn’t know you been sneaking around.” 

You shake your head, “he doesn’t know I’m here. Or that I’m asking.” You take another breath as your eyes water. You bring your hand up to your cheek as it pulses. Your father’s knuckles left a nasty welt. “Because it’s him. He’s the one who did this. And I want him dead.” 

He scoffs, more amused than disbelieving. 

“Warren’s a soldier of mine. You're asking me to off him?” 

“I’m begging,” you finally make yourself look him in the eye. His is formidable man. Dark hair, dark beard, a touch of grey here and there. Even at this hour, he wears a nice suit and sits with authority. “Please, my sisters--” 

“And how are you and your sisters going to make up for his cut. He brings in money. What can you give me?” 

“You can take everything. We just want to be free,” you say. 

He clucks, “what he has now is nothing compared to a lifetime of what he can get.” 

You lower your lashes. That’s it. At least he didn’t laugh because you almost did when you said it out loud. Your father isn’t going to die. He’s so rancid, even death doesn’t want him. He’s not human, he’s a curse. And this man you’re asking for mercy, he’s the same kind. 

“Sorry for the bother,” you eke out. “I was mistaken.” 

“So you were,” he agrees. “Go home. Put some ice on it.” 

It’s like another punch in the face. You nod, “thank you, sir.” 

“You can go,” he dismisses. 

“Yes, sir.” You put your head down and drag your foot back. 

“Ah,” he tuts. 

Your eyes flick up. He extends his hand across the desk. Right. He is still who he is. You step closer as he holds his hand steady. You bow down and kiss the sigil on his ring. An outdated and demeaning gesture. 

Before you can stand straight, his large hand frames your chin. He pushes your head up as your eyes round. You stare at him as his gaze drifts down to your neck. The bruises by the zipper of your sweater tingle. 

“You were never here,” he lets you go. 

“Understood,” you retreat, “sorry again for wasting your time.” 

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | In Motion

Moving on is scary. Moving back won't bring you forwards. But moving with someone at your side can be exciting.

Tags/Warnings: Aged up!Jungkook, Younger!Reader, Age Gap (9 years, JK is mentioned to be 34/35), Angst, Mature romance, Jungkook's ex wife, mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of alcohol abuse, fluff, flirty Jungkook, fluff!!, MCs Ex, police, Jungkook being the victim of bullying (dw), fluff?, nsfw but it's very light (sorry)

Length: 6k words

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

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“Its funny how a woman can change a man.” Yoongi mentions, sitting at the big company dinner next to Jungkook, who's both visibly distracted and upset to be present, phone being checked every few minutes or so- and Yoongi knows who he might be texting with. “why didn’t you bring her along?” He wonders, while Jungkook sighs.  

“I’m actually not sure.” He admits. “I’ve been given a plus-one like always, and I planned on inviting her- but then I.. chickened out.” He shakes his head. “these events are boring as hell.” He says, eating his food with not much interest.  

“What is she doing at home instead?” Yoongi asks, setting his own cutlery aside as he’s finished his plate.  

“Cooking. She sent me a picture of some.. macaroni and cheese she made from scratch.” Jungkook smiles to himself as he thinks to the image you’ve sent him with multiple excited emojis to convey your happiness over it- having tried to wing it for the first time. “now she’s most likely watching her favorite show since it’s Tuesday.” He shrugs.  

“Wow.” Yoongi jokes. “That’s so much more exciting, damn.” He flatly tells his friend, who rolls his eyes. “Jungkook, have you actually asked her if she’d ever want to tag along?”  

“…Yes.. and she said she wouldn’t mind..” He admits shamefully so.  

“Then bring her next time. You act as if you and her are George and Maria over there. You’re not sixty for God’s sake, and she didn’t turn legal yesterday either.” Yoongi shakes his head with laughter, amused by his best friend. He’s noticed the change in him pretty much immediately after the younger guy had returned from his vacation and days taken off- looking almost ten years younger, happy and most of all carefree. There was no worry on his face, no thoughts wrinkling his brows, no annoyance and clear signs of boiling burnout left.  

“I.. want to ask her to move in with me.” Jungkook admits suddenly, staring at his food. “I know it’s a bit fast but.. I feel like this time, she really is the one for me.” He tells his friend, who shrugs.  

“Its your decision. I’m happy you found someone good.” He simply answers him, refusing to really help in that regard. Jungkook can make this decision all by himself, after all. 

And he should. 

Back at his place, where he puts the car keys on the kitchen counter before he unbuttons his shirt to get ready to shower, he takes a small look around. The cooking utensils he bought just for you are still here, and so is your favorite blanket. The pillows he got are littering the couch, and yet, only you are missing.  

You’re missing.  

Even though you’re technically not even meant to be here all the time yet.  

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Jungkook has become.. suspicious, to say the least.  

You’ve been together for a few months now after all, and ever single one of them, for the same week or so, you vanish out of sight. And he’s not stupid. 

He knows you don’t have an affair with someone else, or your work simply always calls you in during that time, because he knows you escape his sight even when you have days off. No, he knows exactly what it is, and he honestly doesn’t really know why you do it.  

Do you think it grosses him out? Or that he doesn’t know how to deal with it? Knowing you at this point, he might just be right.  

But he also can’t force you to come out and be with him during that time of the month if you don’t want to. You have to want this all by yourself, because otherwise, how can you both build a relationship that’s not the same as your past? He’s not that much better from your past boyfriend if he was to just overstep a boundary you clearly still have.  

Back at work in his private office, he contemplates on messaging you. That could help, right? He types out a simple message, letting you know that if it really is what he thinks happens every month, then you don’t have to be worried at all.

He doesn’t mind. At all.  

So he just texts you- tells you that if you ‘need anything at all’, he’d just bring it over and leave you be if that’s what you’re most comfortable with. However, instead of just texting back, you call him- making him wave towards his secretary in a manner that shows her he is for now unavailable unless urgent. “Well hello, darling.” He chuckles when he picks up the call, unaware that on the other end, his words still make you horribly shy.  

“Sorry for not.. Uhm.. You know, calling you or anything.” You say, but Jungkook doesn’t mind.  

“It’s no bother. We’re both still getting used to things, after all.” He reminds you. “Though I’d love some sign of life every now and then in the future. Just a quick ‘hey, I’m doing ok’ is really enough for me.” He offers.  

“Sorry. I’ll think about it from now on.” You say, though Jungkook is pleased to hear that you don’t just do it out of submission- but that it sounds a lot more like relief, almost. As if you’ve waited for him to say this. “But uhm.. What do you mean by, ‘if I need anything’?” You wonder.  

“I’m assuming you avoid me every month due to your period.” He says, and you just meekly answer with a sigh, and a ‘yeah’. “It’s no bother to me, really. It’s not gross or whatever you might think.” 

“I’m just.. Moody and stuff. I’m worried I might.. I don’t know, be mean to you on accident.” You warn him, and he just laughs it off.  

“I’m not that fragile, love.” He jokes. “And I doubt that you’ll end up calling me an asshole every second of the day if we spend time together.”  

“No, I’d never!” you defend yourself, making him chuckle. “I just get cranky, and I don’t know.. I might just get onto your nerves.” You warn him. 

“You could turn full on toddler on me, and I’d still take care of you.” He jokes. “I really don’t mind. How about we meet up later, and I’ll cook us something at your place? I have the weekend off, we could spend it together.” He offers, clicking a little through the rest of the E-Mails he has for today. “Or you could always.. Stay over at my place as well. You know I love it when you’re there with me.” He says. 

You really like his place. To the point, where you actually begin to miss being there, despite having loved your little apartment for so long until now. It’s odd how his house has become somewhat of a safe-space, even thinking about it makes you feel good. And hearing that he personally enjoys having you over as well offers you some sort of hope that maybe one day, he might even want you there permanently.  

What could living with him look like? 

How long until he gets annoyed with you? 

“I really like your home.” You confess quietly, and he waves off his secretary that’s about to knock- because he can feel he’s potentially at the very cusp of something. “Do you.. I mean..” You mumble, before you sigh. “Yeah sure, let’s uhm.. Spend the weekend together.” You tell him, and he realizes quickly that your tone is not very confident at all, despite the fact that you’re trying to make it seem like it is.  

“It could be your home too, you know?” 

He waits for you to answer, and he knows this needs some time to be thought through, but he truly believes that you’re the one for him. It doesn’t have to happen right away either- but he wants you to know that the option is there, if you’d like to take it someday.  

“I-“ you start, when he can hear your doorbell ring in the background. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” You tell him, leaving the phone for a little bit, silence the only thing that Jungkook gets to hear. Your phone probably cancels out whatever quiet noise might be there, so he’s unsure what’s going on, until you return to the phone again. “Can I call you back later?” You say after a moment, voice almost whispering.  

“What’s wrong?” He asks, immediately alarmed by your behavior. He presses for an answer by saying your name- but still, you don’t answer. Until you finally do.  

“He’s here.” You say, 

And Jungkook immediately grabs the keys to his car, rushing out as fast as he can.  

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Jungkook isn’t sure what he expected your ex to look like. But seeing him now, in front of your door as Jungkook walks closer, he feels his blood boil. 

The man is not quite as tall as he is just like you mentioned a few months back, but he’s clearly training for muscle. A very intimidating body, and the second the man turns towards him, he spots the things you’ve told him before as well. His facial features are a lot sharper than Jungkook’s, eyes dark as they muster him up and down, frown on his face. “What do you want?” He asks, voice deep, raspy. Most likely from smoking- cigarette smell still clinging to the man in front of him. 

“I’d like to visit my girlfriend, if you’d be so polite to make space for me to enter the door, please.” Jungkook speaks, tone held at a very specific tone as to not give away any emotions for his opponent to pick up on. 

“Oh, so she got a rich guy now.” Your ex says, leaning back, arms crossed- most likely to present his muscles, something that Jungkook thinks looks simply childish. “Tell her she owes me money. I need it asap, and she keeps avoiding me.” He explains, and Jungkook nods.  

“I’d love to tell her that.” He says. “But you’re still blocking the door.” he says, noticing both the very clear and sharp smell of alcohol, and the way he slightly sways a bit. 

It’s quiet for a good moment, both men staring each other down, before your ex moves to the side, though it’s clear that he doesn’t do it as to admit defeat. Jungkook takes the chance and knocks at your door now, prepared that your ex might try and slip inside the second you open it. “Hey- it’s me.” Jungkook tells you through the door, and at that, you open it just a little bit, like you’re trying to check if he’s actually there or not.  

Once you look at him, his entire face softens. 

You look like a panicked animal that just escaped a shot to the head, eyes wide, staring up at him. At the sight of Jungkook you instantly open the door wider to welcome him inside, and he himself is quick to shut the door right behind him, a hand having tried to keep it open last second. 

“I’m here now.” Jungkook reassures you while you cling to him, your ex having moved to knock and ring the doorbell constantly, angry about Jungkook’s antics. “Don’t worry. Let’s call someone to deal with him, and then we’ll go from there, alright?” He explains to you, as you detach yourself a bit, taking a few deep breaths at the instruction of Jungkook who’s still holding your arms as if to steady you. “Go sit down, I’ll make the call. Did he hurt you at all?” He worries, but you shake your head. 

“I didn’t let him in.” You answer quietly, and Jungkook nods. 

“Which is the best thing you could’ve done. Good job.” He praises, helping you sit down in your bedroom, as far away from the front door, which is still being tortured, as possible, before he walks back out into your kitchen, phone on his ear to call the police. 

It all happens a lot quicker than he would’ve thought- your ex having apparently had gone against some very important guidelines he’s been given after a more recent violent crime he’s committed. “You can file in for a restraining order.” The officer tells Jungkook who nods. “Judging by the fact that he’s known already, that might be for the best. Those people are too unhinged to really be trusted.” 

“Yeah, seeing him in person today has definitely made up my mind about some legal restrictions placed onto him.” Jungkook agrees. “Thank you for dealing with him so quickly.”  

“No problem. You two have a calm rest of your day.” The officer says, before they drive off, your ex in the back of the police car. 

The second he’s back in your home, having realized he actually knows the pin-code to your door, he carefully opens the bedroom door where you’re still hiding on your bed- and the second he nods, you get the message letting go of a deep breath, leaning against him the second he sits down on your bed. “The officer said we should probably file a restraining order towards him.” Jungkook tells you. “I think that’s a good idea as well. It would.. Definitely help me, knowing that he can’t get close to you.” 

“...wait- it’s Tuesday, you were at work-!” You suddenly say, realizing that he probably left work early just to be here now. “You can go back now, I swear I’m fine-” 

“The office won’t burn down just because I’m not there darling, relax.” He laughs, running a hand up and down your arm. “I’ve got the day off tomorrow anyways, and after that I’ll work from home for a while. So it’s not that bad, I promise.” He explains to you, who slowly nods. “And it was a family-emergency after all. They all surely understand that I suddenly ran off.” He jokes- 

Though you feel oddly emotional at the mention of that phrase. 

“Family emergency?” You ask quietly, and he nods, easily, as if it’s no big deal.  

“My girlfriend was in trouble. I’d count that as a family emergency.” He shrugs, and you look at your knees, unsure about what to think. “Which, by the way.. And you can totally say no, it would be completely fine-” He starts, before he continues his sentence once you look at him. “-but.. My parents might want to meet you.” He reveals, strangely... shy almost. 

“Might?” You wonder, and he nods, before sighing. 

“I might’ve let it slip that we’re.. Well, a couple.” He admits. “And I can’t help it, really.” 

“Can’t help what?” You wonder, making him play with the silver rings on his bottom lip. 

“I tend to.. Ramble on and on when it comes to you. So when they asked about you, I just.. I couldn’t help it. And now my family is very much curious to meet you.” He explains, and you smile to yourself. 

“Well.. I mean, I don’t mind?” You say. “What’s the worst that can happen, am I right?”  

“Oh god you don’t know my family.” He dramatizes playfully. “My mother can be a handful, and my brother will most likely just go on and on about some embarrassing stuff that happened when we were kids.” he groans, and you can’t help but grin. 

“Are you scared I might end up hearing something you’d otherwise keep from me?” You wonder, and he glares at you, before he suddenly smiles. “But really. I don’t mind meeting them, if you’re okay with that.” You say. 

And Jungkook can’t help but lean over at that to kiss your lips, realizing just how serious you’re both getting. 

“You’re the only one I’d ever want them to meet.” 

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Jungkook’s parents have never liked his ex wife. 

That’s information you’ve been told later that night before Jungkook had left to go home- and you’re unsure how to think about that. You feel like there’s now a standard you have to reach, and you’re not sure if you can. If you meet them, and it doesn’t work out, what will they think of you?

Your ex has never really let you meet his parents much- only fleetingly, when you met them by chance at the local grocery store or in similar situations. You know that Jungkook has a brother who’s been married for much longer than Jungkook has been- will he judge you for being so much younger than Jungkook himself? 

Will his parents think you’re not a good fit for him because you’re too young? Or do they know already? 

You’re currently washing dishes from the breakfast Jungkook and you had at his place today, when the doorbell rings. You’ve spent the night after admitting that you weren’t feeling good about sleeping at your own place after what happened, and he understood- happily telling you that you can always stay at his house for as long as you’d like. You wonder if he meant permanently.   

He’s been hinting at it for quite a bit now.  

A dog almost jumps up on you, another one following- two tiny whippets excitedly yapping at you, before a young man calls them towards him. Only now do you see three people entering the house through the front door- an older couple, and the young man who you assume owns the dogs, Jungkook standing on the sidelines, hiding his face in his hand.  

“Oh, you must be her!” The woman says, and you instantly know that she must be his mother. He inherited quite a bit of her facial features, though you can also see his father in him as well, the man a lot quieter than her, simply hanging up her coat before greeting his son properly. “Oh you do look young! But very pretty.” She tells you, before she tells you her name.  “When did you change the furniture? It looks so much brighter in here without that weird sofa in the living room.” His mother exclaims, as Jungkook enters the open kitchen.  

“I- mom, when I said you could visit I didn’t mean today.!” Jungkook almost whines, before he throws you an apologetic look. “And also, what are you even doing here?” He asks the young man who very clearly has to be his brother from visual appearance alone.  

“Hey, I gotta know who the pretty girl is who caught my baby brother’s attention!” He teases, smacking Jungkook’s back. “You’ve been going on and on about her, you can’t blame me for being curious.” He explains himself, before he reaches out to you. “Junghyun. Nice to meet you.” He greets you, before he boldly moves to take a look inside the fridge.  

It's odd how you just instantly know the dynamic of his family from this small interaction alone.

Jungkook quickly somehow gets his family to sit in the living room while telling them that he’ll make them something to drink, before he joins you in the kitchen again. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know when J talked to them yesterday that they would show up literally 24 hours later-“ he apologizes, but you wave him off.  

“Its.. not that big of a deal. They seem nice- and it would’ve had to happen at some point, right?” You wonder, and he nods.  

“Still, it must be at least somewhat uncomfortable. I know I’d like to be prepared to meet your parents.” He sighs, moving to make some coffee for his parents after pecking your lips once.  

“…would you?” You ask, and he turns around after clicking the right buttons on the coffee machine in front of him. “meet my parents, I mean.” You ask, unsure.  

“I.. yeah?” He rubs the back of his neck a little. “I’m.. I mean, I don’t know if they’re even aware that you’re seeing someone-“ 

“They are.” You admit. “they.. I told my mom. After we.. after Christmas.” You explain, and he listens with interest, letting you go at your own pace however. “She’s.. they both know you’re older, and my dad is not very happy about that. But my mom seemed welcoming of the idea.” You tell him honestly, and he nods. “they’re scared too, you know? After all that happened.”  

Jungkook nods. “I completely understand. And even without that-“ he shrugs. “-I guess any parents would be suspicious of a relationship like ours.” Be admits and you nod as well, well aware that your parents might not be as easy going as his are. “but well make it work. Right?” be asks, and you know what he’s asking.  

Not if you’re gonna make it work- but if your parent’s possibly being against your relationship could be a deal breaker for you.  

“Yeah.” You say, because you’re not going to let this be taken away from you, by anyone. You’ve had a taste of what your life could be like if you were to just let it happen- and you don’t want to hide away and be trampled over anymore. You want him, you want this life and this future you might have together- no matter what.  

And Jungkook can’t help but walk closer to you, kissing your lips while he tenderly holds your cheeks.  

“Mom, Jungkook is making out with his girlfriend instead of making Coffee!” his brother yells, and Jungkook leans back at that, jaw clenched and tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek while he’s got his eyes closed, having to restrain himself you imagine. But you can’t help and giggle at the situation- visions of what those two brothers might’ve been like as children filling your mind, curiosity growing.

What was he like before Evelyn? Before he married? Before he met her? 

“get out!” Jungkook barks, taking a towel from the sink to hit his brother with it, the laughing older male running off back into the living room, where you follow- carefully carrying the two cups of coffee Jungkook had forgotten in his playful rage against his sibling. 

“Thank you.” His mother says, smiling warmly, while his father only nods, face however gentle, and friendly. You sit down after that, in the corner of the sofa, listening to the two brothers fighting in Jungkook’s office, before his father speaks up.  

“My son mentioned that you two have.. Quite the age gap between you.” He says, and you nod. “And that doesn’t bother you?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

“It.. Did. In the beginning.” You admit, his father now visibly interested in your answer as he didn’t expect you to admit something like that so outright. “I was worried that he might.. Think of me as childish. Or that our ambitions might differ too much, since we’re both at different points in our lives.” You explain, his mother now listening in as well. “I mean.. Let's just take family-planning for example. He’s a lot closer to settling down than I am, technically.” You explain, and his mother nods. “But I realized that, if we talk about these issues, we can solve them together. Make compromises, so we can meet in the middle, so to speak.” 

“Has he spoken to you about his.. Past marriage?” His father asks, and you nod. 

“I’ve met his former wife a few times. And I’m.. Somewhat aware of the things that happened in the past- though I’m sure he didn’t tell me everything yet.” You say. “And I respect that. We’re still.. At the very beginning of our relationship after all.” You chuckle a little, nervously, but suddenly, his father smiles. 

“Stop interrogating my girlfriend just because I’m not here.” Jungkook interrupts the conversation, protectively sitting in between his father and you- though that wasn’t the smartest idea, since his father just quietly pats his back rather roughly, making Jungkook complain in embarrassment. “What the fuck dad?” He asks, but his father just laughs. 

“Stop hitting him darling, you’re gonna break his back!” His mother complains, and you can’t help but smile at the mention of that petname- making it clear where Jungkook got the habit from, since he calls you the same most of the time. It’s cute. 

You’re happy to see that he has such a nice family.  

“So, when are you gonna bring a kid into this world, huh?” His brother asks shamelessly, making Jungkook choke on his water. “Hey, come on. I’ve got the second one on the way, you can’t make me do all the work here!” He teases, making Jungkook turn towards you. 

“I’m so sorry- if you want them to leave, just tell me.” He says towards you, but much to his dismay, you shake your head. 

“I don’t mind them.” You say, and his brother grins, before he leans forwards towards you. 

“Did you know that Jungkook used to be scared of the microwave-” Jonghyun starts, and Jungkook throws his head back, groaning in agony.  

All while you can’t help but be happy that his family seems to like you. 

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Later on, once they all left again, he talks to you once more in the living room after the dishes had been washed, and you both had gotten ready to just laze around and go to bed later. “I’m really sorry they showed up unannounced. That was terrible of them-” He shakes his head still, holding you in his arms on the couch while a random TV series plays quietly in the background, commercial break ongoing. “-and I’m also sorry I left you alone with them. I hope they didn’t interrogate you too hard.” 

“It was fine.” You brush off, telling the truth. “We just.. Spoke about the age gap.” You explain, and Jungkook sighs. “And I told them that, you know, yes, it did bother me at first. And I know that it bothered you too.” You admit, making him stare blankly, listening to your words. “But that we.. Work together. If problems occur, we find compromises. Put equal effort into it so we meet in the middle, you know what I mean?” You say, and he nods. 

“Yeah, I see where you’re coming from. What did they answer to that?” He wonders, but you shrug. 

“He just asked if I knew Evelyn, and I said that yes, I’ve met her a few times.” You remember. “And that I know you probably didn’t yet tell me everything, but that it’s fine because neither have I. Since we’re still.. Pretty new.” You offer. “And then you came back, so we didn’t talk further.” 

“My brother can be so terrible, I swear.” He huffs. “Two years older and thinks he’s always got the upper hand in everything..” He mumbles. 

“Well, from what I’ve been told, he is a bit quicker with things than you.” You giggle. “Second marriage, second child-” 

“Second job after he kept slacking off at his first, second house because he got kicked out of the first, second dog because one wasn’t enough-” Jungkook goes on, and you can’t help but laugh out loud. “-Hey, stop laughing about that!” He complains, moving his hands to pinch your sides, only causing your laughter to intensify as you try and slip away from him. But you’re unsuccessful, rather ending up somewhat manhandled down into the couch, with him above you, your wrists pressed into the cushions below you. 

It doesn’t take long for him to lean in and kiss you, the knowledge of everything that happened today settling in. You’ve been so understanding about everything, calm and collected even though he knew that you must’ve been at least somewhat intimidated by the whole situation. You still handled it perfectly in his opinion, facing it all head on. 

He’s so in love with you.  

His kisses slow down after a moment or two- and you know why they do. He’s not really a fan of getting heated on the couch of all places, preferring the bedroom or maybe the shower- and sure, you have indeed gotten rather scandalous in other places of his house before, but if he can control himself, he does.  

Laying next to you, your head on his biceps, he just observes you for a moment before he speaks again.  

“Move in with me.” He says, and you’re caught by surprise at the sudden proposal. “I’ve got.. Enough space. A room you can have just for yourself if you ever want some time to yourself. I can continue renting out your old place too if you’d like.” He tells you, hand resting on your waist. “Just.. I’d like to have you close. Every day.” He says. “And night of course.” 

“I mean.. if you’re okay with that?” You say, unsure. “you don’t have to do it just because.. we’re a couple, you know? I can be.. a little chaotic, and loud, you might not-“ 

“I wouldn’t have proposed the idea if I didn’t want it, darling.” He chuckles, easing your mind quite a bit. “Think about it though, before you answer me now. I realize I might’ve come off a bit.. strong with how I phrased it.” He hums, slowly sitting up again with you next to him. “What I really want to say is.. If you wanted to move in with me, I’d welcome you with open arms so to say.” He offers, and you nod.  

“I’ll think about it.”  

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“Hm?” You wonder still half asleep, Jungkook right behind you with his hands running over your skin, legs entangled and lips kissing the back of your neck.  

“You’ve been sleeping for ages.” He complains lightly, his own eyes barely open. “been waiting for you to wake up.”  

“..whats.. why?” You ask, moving a little to stretch your legs out.  

“hm, why..” he just repeats, hands traveling further and further until one of them finds its way beneath your light shirt you wear, bare chest warm beneath his palm. It’s clear to you now what exactly he’s been aiming for when waking you up- intentions obvious, especially with the way he presses himself into you from behind.  

You do have to admit, that it’s been a few days since the last time you two got together like this. With some stress at his work and your own life, you didn’t want to bother him too much- rather deciding to let him reach out on his own, so you know that he’s up for it.  

“You smell nice.” Jungkook comments, running his nose over the crook of your neck. “Is that the.. pink bottle you left here last time?” He asks a bit slurred, himself still somewhat asleep.  

“Hmhm.” You nod. “It’s.. yeah. I forgot it.” You explain, moving a bit to give him better access, and also to show that you’re okay with this. “it’s body lotion.”  

“smells better on you than it does on me.” He chuckles. 

“You used it?” You wonder, and he shrugs, before moving to position himself over you, reaching into his bedside table for a condom.  

“Hey you left it here!” He defends himself. “but it didn’t smell as nice on me.” He admits, shrugging before he moves to shed his cotton pajama pants- the shirt long gone, a habit of his during the night.  

“Well, now I’m here.” You say, and he nods, smiling.  

“You are.” He agrees, tapping your hips to make you lift them, his hands pulling down your underwear and sleep shorts off in one go. He gives the condom to you for now, before he lifts your legs over his shoulders, head lowering between your thighs to eat you out. He’s got a habit of holding eye contact with you during the act, and even now, he does so- soaking up every one of your reactions, eager to see you restless beneath his touch.  

This is the type of love he’d hoped for when he married. This is what he thought could grow from nothing.  

But he’s realizing now that that was a mistake- you can’t just hope for the best and then be disappointed when things don’t turn out the way you’d wanted them. There’s got to be effort put into it, and knowing that now makes him accept the fact that his ex wife isn’t the only reason his marriage failed. He himself also made mistakes, many of them- agreeing to going out with her when he didn’t love her being one of them.  

There’s no clear villain and no obvious victim in his story.  

Your skin is soft beneath his hands as he runs them up and down the sides of your legs- body squirming from his actions beneath them, as you experience things you haven’t before. You’ve never really had anyone ever pay so much attention to you in any way- be it sexually or just with the way that he calls daily to make sure he at least checks in with you whenever you’re apart. And thinking about it, there’s nothing speaking against living together- what's really the worst that could happen? 

You’ve been through the worst. You know that Jungkook would never be anything close to that. 

Your hand finds its way into his hair, unsure where else it’s supposed to go- and you’re faintly apologetic about the way you’re most likely tugging on it the second he pushes you over the edge- but he’s visibly uncaring of it, none of it bothering him it seems. He chuckles as he comes back up to you, wiping his face with his hand before he watches you open your eyes again to look at him. “You okay?” He chuckles, and you nod. 

“I want to move in with you.” You say, and he’s caught off guard, eyes wide for a second before he leans back a little to properly look at you.

“You sure?” He wonders, and you nod. 

“Hmhm.” You nod. “I.. Want to.” You tell him, and he smiles, clearly excited.  

“Okay.” He nods. “Okay! Yeah, we can.. Uhm, I mean, I’ve got the next week and a half set for home-office, so I can help you with the furniture?” He proposes, and you laugh, almost in relief, before he steals the still wrapped condom from your hand that's been holding it the entire time, face leaning down to kiss you.

"But first, let me love you some more."

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 2)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

You tried to close the door quietly behind you, wincing everytime it creaked, but as you tiptoed through the foyer into the living room you quickly realized your stealth was of no use. Your mother sat in her chair in the corner of the room, flipping the page on whatever cheesy self-help book she was worshiping today. She looked up at you and then to the oversized clock on the wall pointedly.

“Really? Sitting up under a single lamp light?” You rolled your eyes. “What are you gonna say next, ‘where have you been young lady?’”

“Actually, I was just going to ask if you had a good night,” she said in her all-too-familiar-guilt-trip tone. “But since I’m apparently such a stereotype, maybe I should ask where you’ve been. I’ll be the overbearing mother you’ve made up in your head.”

You just sighed. “I’m not doing this with you, goodnight mom.”

“Don’t forget we’re having dinner at the island club tomorrow night!” She called after you. “Just you, me, and Chip.”

You winced. “I don’t know if the Island Club is really my vibe anymore, mom.”

“Y/N,” your mother said in warning. “The other 51 weeks of the year, you are welcome to walk around like you’re better than all of us. But this week is my week and I want to have dinner at the Island Club with my daughter and my fiancé.”

In your twenty years on earth, you’d had approximately one million fights with your mother. You were wise enough by now to know which ones you were going to lose.

You sighed in defeat, “Alright mom, I’ll be there.”

Like she said, it was just one week and then you could get the hell out of here. Thinking of the night you just had with a pang of sadness, you thought, this time maybe for good.

Two Years Ago…

“Happy birthday, baby,” Rafe said, beaming.

“Rafe what did you do?” You asked.

“Got you something,” he shrugged, his casual tone betrayed by the big, bright smile on his face, his dimples on full display. He looked so excited it made your heart swell.

“You got me a car?” You said in disbelief.

“Not just a car, your dream car!” He extended his long arms, displaying the vehicle like a Price-is-Right model.

“You actually bought me a car?” You said quietly, shaking your head in awe.

“Do you like it?” He asked, now wringing his hands nervously. His sudden timidness made you weak, wanting to hold him in his vulnerability.

“Baby,” you said quietly before suddenly breaking out in a run toward him, leaping into his arms. Even in his surprise, he caught you, like he always did. 

You tucked your head into the crook of his neck as your arms and legs wrapped around him. He held you back so tightly, you thought he might never let go. 

“I love it,” you mumbled into his skin. “You have no idea.”

He pulled his head back to get a look at you. You had tears in your eyes as you beamed back at him.

“I love you,” you said before dropping a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You have no idea,” he said, before kissing you back harder. 

The kiss turned more passionate as he started walking the two of you toward the car, removing one hand from you to open the door to the back seat. He lowered you in slowly, both of you laughing into the kiss. You scooted backward to the other side of the back seat, pulling your legs to your chest to make room for him. For a moment, he just stood in the open door, taking you in. You giggled nervously under his hungry gaze.

“You gonna join me?” You asked, taunting him with the low, sexy voice you knew made him crazy.

“Just wanna look at you for a sec,” he explained. “Wanna remember.”

You leaned forward and started to crawl towards him, hands and knees sinking into the soft leather seat. 

“You have your whole life to look at me, baby,” you assured him. 

Once you were close enough to him, you stretched your neck forward and kissed him again, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him into the car with you. He gladly obliged and shut the door behind him. Once he was settled, you threw your leg over him and climbed in his lap, arms outstretched past either side of his head to hold onto the seat back behind him. 

“You're not gonna hit the road in the middle of the night and leave me here now that you’ve got your own ride?” He asked, close enough to your lips that you could feel his breath sweep across them as he talked.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised. “Unless you’re in the seat right next to me.”

You leaned in to kiss him again, but he pulled back before your lips met. You furrowed your brows in confusion.

“I got you another gift,” Rafe said.

“Rafe,” you said, “you already got me a car. I don't know what could possibly top that.”

Removing one of his hands from your hips, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a little black box.

“Open it and find out,” he held the box out to you.

With wide eyes, you took what was clearly a jewelry box from him and opened it slowly. Rafe reached up to turn on the car light so you could better see what was inside. It was a dainty gold ring, twisting around itself to make a small knot right in the middle. It was simple, but so beautiful.

“It’s a promise ring,” he explained.

You watched him watching you, realizing he was nervous, afraid you were about to reject his gesture. You could tell by the look on his face that he had more he was struggling to say, so you silently reached out your hand and placed it on his cheek, letting him know you were listening, that he was safe.

He nuzzled his head into your soft hand and closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. After a moment, he opened them into yours and took a deep breath.

“You are…everything,” he said, eyebrows knit together in sincerity. As if he could somehow look at you hard enough to make you understand. “I don’t care what our parents say, or what all the people on this fucking island say, you are it for me, y/n. I will love you forever. Even if they cut us off, if we have no money and have to live out of the back of this car, I don’t care, I want you. Forever.”

He searched your face for any sign that you’d reject him, or laugh at his earnest desperation. You’d never treated him like that before, but he had been raised to believe that vulnerability was weakness, and even with all the loyalty you’ve shown him, he couldn’t fight the thought that when he told you what he was really feeling, you’d shoot him down.

Instead, you simply said, “Well, am I going to have to put it on myself?”

He laughed, relief spreading through his chest. He took the box from you and removed the ring, slipping it on your left ring finger before placing a kiss over it.

You grabbed his face with both hands and looked at him hard, praying he’d believe you when you swore, “I will love you forever, Rafe Cameron.”

His lower lip flinched slightly as he fought back the tears he could feel springing up. He kissed you quick, hoping you didn’t notice. You did notice, but you kissed him back to take his mind off of it, knowing how much he hates crying in front of people. You slid your hands back to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently in appreciation as he moved his lips to your neck. 

“Don’t leave any marks,” you whined. “My mom…”

“You’re 18 now, baby, she can’t do shit,” he mumbled before going back to sucking on the tender spot at the base of your neck. 

“Yeah, except stop feeding me and kick me out of the house,” you protested, though not exactly pushing him away.

“Like I said, we’ll just live in this car,” he joked. 

“Or,” you said, pulling back from him to separate his lips from your skin before it could change color, “you could leave your mark somewhere she can’t see.”

With those words, you lifted your shirt over your head. Rafe watched hungrily, your words and movements making him grow harder than he already was. You smirked as you pressed down on him, making him hiss. Eyes locked to his, you reached back to unclasped your bra, letting the straps slide away as you revealed yourself to him slowly.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he took you in. He’d seen you naked countless times now, but the way he always looked at you like it was the very first time was the hottest thing in the world to you. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” With those words, he sunk his head down and started pressing gentle kisses to the top of your breasts. 

“I love when you talk to me like that, baby,” you gasp and arch your back as he captures the sensitive skin just above your nipple between his lips and starts sucking, taking you up on your suggestion to mark you somewhere no one will see. 

 You grab the back of his neck for stability, lightly letting your painted nails sink into his skin, the blissful pain of it making his hips buck up into yours. You moan as his length presses perfectly against your clit. You’re so wet you wonder if it's soaked through to his jeans yet.

“You like this?” He asked before releasing his lips and sinking into a spot on your other breast to add to the masterpiece he was leaving on your skin.

“I love it,” You answered.

“It’s your day, baby, just wanna make you feel good,” he told you.

“You always make me feel good,” you whimpered as you continued to writhe on him.

He pulled his mouth from you suddenly and moved his hands to your ass, holding you up so you couldn’t push down on him anymore. You pouted slightly, and he smirked at your neediness. 

“Today’s all about you,” he said. He moved you off of him and laid you down on the seat, kneeling so he could hover over you. He caged you in with an arm at either side of your head. You twisted your neck to look at his arm, admiring the veins that ran up the side, committing the sight to memory. You loved everything about your boyfriend’s body, but something about his arms really drove you wild. Impulsively, you leaned over and placed a kiss on the inside of his forearm, loving how soft his skin was. 

The gentleness of the moment made his skin break out in goosebumps and he looked down at you with hearts in his eyes. The only thing in the world he wanted at that moment was to make you feel how in love with you he is, so he lowered himself between your legs and got to work on your third gift of the day.

Now…

Rafe had two meetings today to sell some of the melted gold, both of which went exactly how he’d hoped. He didn’t understand how the high from the sale could wear off so quickly. So, like most nights, he found himself at the Island Club bar, three bourbons deep. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at the conversation he just had with Topper about Sarah not answering his calls. 

“What a cuck,” he said to himself under his breath. 

Little did he know that just a few yards away, inside the club dining room, the girl he used to regularly ditch all of his friends for was sitting down to dinner.

You liked Chip just fine, he was a deputy at the sheriff’s department and though you had never been a huge fan of cops, he seemed to genuinely care about helping people. He made your mom happy, and she appears to have worked through some of the anxiety issues she had in your teens, which you were grateful for.

Even though you were tucked in a dark corner of the Island Club dining room, you and your mother still clocked all of the stares from nosy neighbors, wine moms, and kids you grew up with. It was like an Elvis sighting, after the wildfire of rumors that had engulfed the island after your disappearance two years ago. Chip, however, seemed to be none the wiser to your storied past. You didn’t know if your mom had told him all that had happened, and you kind of hoped she wouldn’t. He seemed like a simple guy with a simple view of the world, and you’d appreciate it if your mom would let him stay that way.

Chip was telling a story about one of his coworkers getting their arm stuck in the vending machine, when a commotion from outside the restaurant cut him off.

“I pay just as much as all of you assholes!” A man’s voice bellowed through the open windows.

Your heart froze and you closed your eyes, recognizing the voice immediately. When you looked up, you caught your mother’s glare, she had apparently placed the voice, too. 

A glass shattered, followed by the voice yelling, “take your fucking hands off me, douche bag!”

“I’m just going to…” you set your napkin on the table and pushed your chair back.

“Y/N,” your mother said in warning. “We’re having dinner.”

“I’m just going to make sure everything is okay,” you said, hoping she didn’t realize that you were trying to convince yourself you had a reason to go out there just as much as you were trying to convince her. 

“You’re not here for him,” she said. “You’re supposed to be here for me, for your family.”

Chip’s eyes darted quickly back and forth between you and your mother, totally lost. The two of you gave each other a look that clearly had years of history behind it, and he decided he might want to just stay in the dark.

“I’ll be right back,” you said definitively, standing from the table. Your mother sipped her wine bitterly as she watched you go.

You made your way out onto the patio, following the booming of Rafe’s voice over to the bar. He was face-to-face with another member, a middle aged man who was jabbing his finger into Rafe’s chest as he yelled at him.

“Everyone here is just trying to have a nice evening and you’re over here running your mouth,” the man spat.

Rafe shoved the man’s hand away from him and looked to the much younger woman who was standing behind him.

“I’m sorry for ruining your date with grandpa here, sweetheart,” he joked loudly. “If you ever want to be with a guy who can get it up without a truckload of Viagra, you give me a call, gorgeous.”

The man shoved Rafe and he stumbled backward, laughing, clearly drunk.

“Woah there cowboy,” Rafe chuckled. “We wouldn’t want to make a scene, now would we?”

He was being smug, dripping with arrogance, and it was making you sick. You couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. You thought this time you’d be able to confront him, try to understand why he was treating people like this, but the twist of your stomach forced you away from the scene as you fled from the patio towards the beach.

Rafe was about ready to cock his fist back, too drunk to care about escalating the situation further, when he saw it again - a flash of long hair and a flowing skirt disappearing from view. He suddenly felt completely sober. He patted the guy on the back and threw back the last of his drink before following the mysterious figure down to the beach. 

You stood at the edge of the water, doubled over with your heels in your hand, trying desperately to catch your breath. Maybe your mother was right, maybe you should just keep your head down and act like the only thing that matters to you on this island is her wedding. But both of you knew that wasn’t true, that it could never be true, not when he’s here. Not when something has clearly changed him, and you can’t sleep at night not knowing what horrible thing could’ve happened to make him behave this way. Just because you buried your love for him, didn’t mean the ghost of it had stopped haunting you.

You composed yourself and decided to go back to dinner. You’d fake your way through the rest of the week. You’d lie low, send your mother on her honeymoon, and finally get off this island for good. But when you turned back toward the club, he was there. Standing ten-feet away, just watching you.

“It is you,” he whispered, the wind knocked out of him from the shock of seeing your face in the moonlight.

“Hi, Rafe,” you say, but it doesn’t come out in the confident, casual way you had practiced for the last two years, preparing for the moment you’d inevitably see him again. Instead it’s meek, shaking with your unstable breath.

“What are you…” Rafe is speechless. For just a moment, he’s that soft, insecure boy you used to know. The boy you loved, who loved you desperately in return. He must catch the faint smile you can’t hold back, because his mouth slams shut and his jaw clenches. His wide eyes become steeley again as his shield flies back up.

“What are you doing here?” He practically spits.

“My mom is getting married,” you say, no smile gracing your lips anymore. “I thought you would’ve heard.”

“Been busy,” he shrugs. “Believe it or not I have actual shit going on.”

You chuckle humorlessly, “I can tell.”

“The fuck’s that ‘sposed to mean?” He takes an angry step towards you.

“Just the way you were talking back there, and at your party the other night,” you say. “Looks like you’re the big man now.”

It was you at the party. Rafe shakes his head in disgust, this is the final confirmation he needed to make-up his mind about whether he’s pissed at you. He’d prepared for this moment too, not sure if when he saw you again, he’d want to kiss you or kill you. Right now he was leaning toward the latter.

“Yeah, maybe I am,” Rafe says. “Now that I don’t have all of you holding me back.”

There’s a flash of something you can’t quite place in his eyes. For just a moment, he’s not here, like he’s losing a battle to stay in the moment. You wonder what kind of demons are roaring in his mind. You wish you didn’t want so desperately to exorcise them.

“All of us?” You repeat his words back to him, wondering who else joins you in the club of people Rafe Cameron now hates. You look him up and down with soft, sad eyes. 

“What happened to you, Rafe?”

“I don’t have to fucking explain myself to you, Y/N,” your name shoots off his tongue like a bullet, nothing like the way he used to coo it in worship when he held you, or moan it in awe when he was inside of you. “Why don’t you just fuck off back to wherever you’ve been. You don’t belong here anymore.”

You just look at him, head tilted as your narrow eyes size him up in a way that makes him feel like an exposed nerve. You know the second you get home tonight, the tears will come, but right now you put on a stoic demeanor to match his own. This was the opposite of the reunion you had dreamed of. You thought you’d be back in the arms of the person who knew you better than anyone in the world, but instead you stand face-to-face with a total stranger.

You start to walk back up the beach in his direction, noticing the way his Adam's apple bobs as you get closer to him. Once you’re next to him, you look up into the blue eyes that you used to imagine your kids would have someday. So many things you’d wanted to say, hundreds of letters never sent, millions of tiny memories you’d hold onto forever, but now, with his frame looming over you, all you could think to say was,

“I hate your hair.”

And for the third time this week, he stood breathless as he watched you disappear.

(chapter 3)

a/n: THANK YOU so much for all the support on chapter one, I am actually blown away I did not think so many people would enjoy my words!! Special thank you to bestie @nadvs for all the inspo and advice!!! 🫶🫶🫶

taglist: @maybankslover @dark1paradise @lmg-stilinski24 @idkdudsworld @mimipanini09 @patis643 @readingsmuts

[postmoe]

In the Next Moment:

Yandere/Alpha Gojo Satoru x Omega Reader

I can't even tell you how long ago I started this. I had no idea how to end it and I took away and added a bunch of things haha. Here is your alpha Gojo Satoru, here to save the day and take you for himself!

omegas are lesser creatures, familial abuse, self-deprecation, like your father in this is literal scum

.

What kind of God deals a life like this? Where status is given the moment you’re born. Where you can be cast away at birth and shoved into a home just for having the wrong scent. It used to be that families would wait until puberty before they knew what breed their child would be. Now? Now they have the technology to make accurate guesses. Not one hundred percent, but, accurate enough.

              In your case, call it lucky or not, your family didn’t send you away to a home. Omega’s aren’t completely useless, and can fetch quite a high penny on the market. Every day you were reminded of your failures as their daughter, that being bred by them should have produced an alpha.

              “This is all your fault,” your mother would say to your father, “Your cousin is an omega, it runs in your bloodline!”

              “How was I supposed to know?! No one ever spoke of them I had no idea until we did the test!” He would shout back.

              It’s a common argument you heard growing up. One that would seep into the marrow of your bones and claw its way into your dreams. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Even though they argued with each other, at the end of the day it came out to you being wrong. You were a curse.

              Eventually, your mother left. Being an alpha with you in the home, it was irredeemable. She had not bonded with an omega like her DNA screamed, your father a Beta and those relationships were never to last if an Omega came into the picture. Just an example of the homewrecker in your genes.

              He would drink and smoke on the couch all day and night. “We had such a happy family, such high hopes for you…” Another swig of the bottle in his hand, “It’s your job to take care of us now. Your mother did everything. Go make some money and bring it back home.”

              Quivering, afraid to even speak in front of him, you had to ask, “B-But what if people find out I’m a- AH!”

              You cower as the bottle smashes against the brick wall next to your head, glass and liquor breaking around while your father stands and screams, “You stupid bitch! Go get blockers, fuck! How hard is it to come up with things on your own? You’re so fucking pathetic, stupid fucking omega,” he continues to grumble as he storms past you, “Clean up this fucking mess.”

              Of course, you’ve thought about running away, thought about life outside of your home. The realism of it is not pretty, though. You’ve seen how omegas are treated on the streets if they get caught, they’re not allowed in the city because their scent can be such a disturbance. You have to be really taken care of to live amongst others. If you weren’t so rare then it wouldn’t be an issue, but unfortunately omegas can’t be shared around to every alpha.

              Getting blockers is probably the hardest job. Most doctors don’t want to sell them to you unless you have a good reason for being an omega, ie; rich spouse, breeding bitch, selling, etc. Anything on the black market is a gamble between being really good or really shit. Eventually, another omega you came across in passing had recommended a ‘hole in the wall’ doctor. They hide down an alleyway in the slums of the city but are open to helping omegas. When you went there it had ignited your fear and you started releasing poor, omega pheromones. Many, hungry looks your way were cast, though thankfully you made it out in one piece.

              Now you were left to try and survive in the wild.

.

“Yo!” Your head shoots up from the stall oven, seeing a familiar head of white hair and blindfolded head.

              Honestly, you were shocked, once people found out the ‘lovely’ attendant at the crepe stall was an omega, they generally never returned. “Ah,” you try not to gape at him, “You’re back. You didn’t come with your, um, students?”

              It’s been a little over a year now that you’ve manned the crepe stall in a deserted park. You think that’s why your boss put you here, because not many people came by so business wasn’t that great; it also gave him a good excuse to berate you when you didn’t meet income quota. Earlier this week you were met with a unique set of customers, one of them being this man and then two younger boys and a girl to whom he introduced as his students – very proud of them. In that same interaction, whilst the students were enjoying each other’s crepes and you were making his, he had suddenly leaned in and inhaled a few times, sniffing you and grinning cheekily, “You’re an omega, aren’t ya?” It shocked you because you shouldn’t be smelling like anything right now, the sugary crepes usually enough to hide and scent that seems to waft from you. Now, he had returned alone, acting as if you were buddies, “My dear students are in a fierce battle! I have made some time to see my favourite crepe omega.”

              His words were too loud, you had to look around in fear that maybe he was trying to let others know, trying to get you boycott. However, no one was there. Was he trying to bait you? Maybe you should just go along with it, “Did you really like them that much?”

              He perked up, arms open in a welcoming stance, “Of course! The food, the chef, both are a delicious snack~.”

              Flirting?! Definitely a joke.

              Your shocked expression must’ve spoke volumes as he laughed at you, wiping a faux tear from his blindfolded eyes, “Don’t be so unsure of yourself. Surely a treat like you gets hit on all the time.”

              “Are you hearing yourself,” you blurt out without thinking. How could he be so casual about this if he weren’t planning something sinister. All the memories of manipulation and abuse from strangers in your life come flooding back, your body subconsciously recoiling in on itself in defence. Your voice is meeker now, “Please, if you’re going to do something just get over with it.”

              The man’s footsteps sound calm as he strides towards you, his hand reaching forward. You cringe in on yourself, awaiting a slap or a hit, only for your body to be taken over by surprise when he speaks, his index finger pointing towards the flat stove-surface of the kiosk, “Your crepe is burning.”

              “Oh no!” You squeal, quickly going to flip it off the surface and onto a serviette. Tears start to collect in your eyes as you think of all the different ways you’ll be punished, “Shit shit shit. He’s going to know! He always knows and I can’t hide it, I’m screwed-“

              Silence engulfs you as you watch, stunned, at the man who picks up the hot and charred crepe, worms out his tongue and opens his mouth, before scoffing it down in a single gulp. He pulls out a few bills and sets them on the kiosk counter, “Whew! In hindsight I should have put cream or something on it. Definitely not as good as the first one I had.” Honestly… What was his deal? He didn’t question your shocked expression, only smiling and reaching out his finger to wipe at a stray tear, using the kiosk to lean over and reach you, “Name’s Satoru. Or, well, Gojo is my last name and tends to be what others go by. For you, cutie, I’d rather be addressed by something more to heart. So, you free after this? I know a great restaurant near here.”

              Your mouth opens and closes, gaping like a dehydrated fish. You didn’t need to look down to see his arms begin to sizzle on the pan, the sound and smell enough to alert you both. Ven so, you informed him with ghostly words, “Your arm is cooking.”

              “Not gonna move it ‘til you say yes!”

              … You couldn’t believe what your day has come to, “Okay.”

.

The restaurant he had decided to take you to was something way out of your budget, and just as you were about to voice your concerns for it, he quickly put his finger to your lips and spoke, “Shh, I know what you’re going to say and don’t worry. I’ve got us covered.”

              Neither of you were particularly dressed for this place, he wearing a black uniform with the neck of it covering his chin, and you in your small, ripped (not by design) shorts and oversized t-shirt. Even with this, the waiter at the front smiled widely at Satoru, “Gojo-sama! What a pleasant surprise. Table for two?”

              You were thankful that the waiter didn’t acknowledge you. No greeting yet no glare or scowl either. Satoru flicked his fingers into guns and pointed at him, “You betch’ya! One of those cosy, independent booths, please.”

              “Of course, right this way.” The waiter lead you through the open area of the restaurant, many patrons idly enjoying their dinner with their loved ones by quiet candlelight, whilst the ones you walked slightly too close to were able to smell you and tell just what breed you were, some even trying to complain to their designated waiter. You just hung your head in shame until you got to the booth, following Satoru’s lead until you heard a door being slid shut.

              Quickly, you turned to face him, seeing that he had shut you both in a secluded area with a table, the walls made of a deep coloured screen that didn’t quite go to the ceiling, yet provided all the privacy one could need in a place like this. “Don’t worry,” he says, walking around to pull out a chair for you, “The owner and I get along real well. I’ve helped them out a few times.”

              He slides the seat in as you sit, and you still can’t get over the fact that he hasn’t done anything bad to you yet. This man has singlehandedly given you the most kindness you have received in your entire life. Perhaps he wants to break your heart in the end, at least you might get a free meal out of it. “I see… Are you a chef? Is that why your hair is up like that and you didn’t flinch when you got burnt?” You knew some chefs were godly in the kitchen and a little stove sizzle wouldn’t quit them.

              Satoru laughed, bringing his hands up to act as a resting spot for his chin, “Nooo~ Not a chef, and my hair just sits this way with the blindfold.”

              Which brings you on to your next question, “Why do you wear a blindfold? How can you navigate like that?”

              His cheeky grin only widens, his hands now moving to sit flat on the table so he can lean forward and whisper, “Would you believe I have… Special powers?”

              This made you quirk your eyebrow, now you were unintentionally leaning in as well, “Huh? Behind your blindfold?”

              Satoru chuckled, leaning back again in his chair as he nonchalantly waves the discussion away in the air, “Ah, I don’t think you can handle this conversation just yet. Oh! I know, how about this,” he holds his hand up, five fingers pointing towards the sky. Using his other hand, brings down his thumb so he was only showing four fingers, “Four more dates and I’ll reveal my eyes to you.”

              Another flustered expression overcame you. You hadn’t even finished this date – this is a date?! – and yet he was already planning more. Subconsciously, you tilt your head away from him, shoulders coming inwards as you mutter, “I don’t have anything to offer you, Satoru.”

              “I just,” he falters, and for the first time he sounds a little unsure of how to say something. Easily, his motions fluid and controlled, like he knows exactly what he wants to do, he reaches for your upper arms and pulls them forward, sliding down the length of your arms until he can comfortably hold your hands, “I just need you to be there. That’s all I want.”

              You swallow thickly, thinking it over. It wouldn’t hurt to see how tonight turned out, and even if you said no, he knows where you work. You suppose you can see where this takes you, until it falls flat like it should for an omega.

.

That night, you managed to tip toe back into your home, your father snoring on the couch. It was a miracle you weren’t berated, at least you had thought so until the morning.

              Cooking breakfast for him, he had decided now was prime time to slam his fist into the archway of the room, making you flinch as he roared, “You stupid bitch, don’t think I didn’t notice you not home last night. Where the fuck were you?”

              What to say… Could you lie? You’d have to lie, he would accuse you of trying to do something shady if you said you had a date. No omega would get a date, especially you, and so that would mean you were planning something bad. Or maybe it was your catastrophising thoughts that made you see it this way, a defence mechanism, if you will. “I was working late,” you tell him, quietly, “My boss is trying to extend the crepe business into later hours for couples on dates.”

              To this, your father scoffs, planting his body at the table as he awaits his meal, “No couple would want an omega to serve them, you might try to make off with their mate.”

              You really did try to hold your tongue, but maybe Satoru’s easy-going behaviour had mellowed you out a bit, “I just thought you might want the extra money.” It wasn’t a smart-ass comment, but no matter what you’d say he would take it as one.

              This morning, he seemed to have had a bad hangover, as he could only growl out, “What was that, you runt? Know your place.”

              Oh, how you desired to spit in his food. You gazed longingly at the bacon and eggs you were making, such a simple meal. Last night you had come home to see new pizza boxes laid around. Honestly, you felt a sort of betterment from that. You had dined like royalty, and he was stuck here eating shit from a sole. If only for last night, you were better than him.

…

“A curse?” You questioned, your wide eyes looking over your teacup. It was an authentic, British set, Satoru had taken you out to a little garden café on the other side of the city. It was amongst some of the historic temples around, the trees making you seem far away from the city and the food a kind of exquisite you had never been privy of knowing.

              He grinned at you, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling from behind his dark glasses, “That’s right! Kind of like a ghost or a monster. They feast on collective, negative energy and such, I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

              You tried to keep an open mind, “And you… Hunt them?”

              “Yeah! See, now you’re getting it,” he grins, excitedly.

              With a smile, you set your cup down and ask, “Are you an author, Satoru?”

              He waved his hand dramatically in the air, “Oh, you flatterer, you. I’m not that creative, it’s just my job.”

              As much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t help the creeping feeling that he was lying to you. Like, this was your third ‘date’ together and he still had yet to bully you or do something horrible. This wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to make you scared and freak out. Maybe he wants to laugh at the weak, little omega and her fear smell. Is that why you were in a crowded café?

              “Hey, hey,” he reaches over, holding your hands in his, “I can sense you’re troubled but not for the reason I’d think. You still don’t trust me, do you, (Y/n)?”

              Your mouth opens and closes, unsure how to word your thoughts. You were caught in a predicament you didn’t want to be in. Of course you still didn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust him after everything you’ve been through. Would he take such offense to that?

              Satoru seems to take your shock as his answer, smiling sincerely at you, “I don’t blame you, it’s okay. That’s why we’re doing these dates! Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from now on.”

              Flaming heat erupts on your cheeks, the feeling of his thumbs caressing your skin feeling like an iron, “How can you just say that? You don’t know me and I’m-“ you stop suddenly, looking around you to notice the faces of disgust, you really didn’t need to finish that sentence. Your blockers had grown thin, so now you were cutting them in half to try and spread it out since your doctor was on holiday. Unfortunately, they didn’t prevent the smell of your pheromones enough, it was painfully obvious everywhere you went.

              “Ah, my darling omega, you truly are sweet,” he inhales, smiling contentedly, “Once you realise the world is your playground, nothing else matters. I could kill everyone here and take you away, and as long as no one can stop me – and trust me, they can’t -, anything is possible, and your dreams really can come true.”

              You didn’t know what to say to that, his words always bordering on genuine and humour. Even with the knowledge of Satoru’s like to play, the undeniable dark truth of a true alpha manages to waft in the air.

              Like a switch, he grins widely, all teeth and charisma, “That’s not saying I will, but it’s such a nice feeling, don’t you think?”

              It’s quiet as his words sink in. You think about your life so far, how you couldn’t even get away with greeting someone without a knife to your throat and spitting words of how an omega doesn’t get to speak without their alpha allowing them to do so. As much as you’d like to punch them in the gut, you don’t think you’d really want to kill them, everyone growing under their own circumstance. Instead of getting into political debates, you think you don’t want anymore stares and judgement for today, deciding that even if Satoru is okay to talk to, you’re still uncomfortable, “I suppose so, it must be nice having such strength, and being able to see… Curses.”

The rest of the date was enjoyable, and he even answered some of your questions about the creatures he hunts. Apparently, omegas are prime suspects, easy to feast upon and no one questions when they go crazy, the second lot of victims being alphas that had an omega as a child. You’re honestly surprised you and your father haven’t been attacked yet if that’s the case.

              Satoru drives you home and it’s relatively quiet in the car, the thrumming of the almost noiseless engine enough to fill the silence. You go back to what Satoru says during your date, and now you’re memorising the smells he emitted during your conversation. Before, it was hard to really tell since you were stressing, and the restaurant was full of blooming alphas and betas. However, now it was lingering through the car. He had spoken so easily about death and killing, like it was second nature to him next to breathing. Some curses were sentient, able to talk and think, and then there was the comment about killing everyone else in the restaurant, who were definitely not curses. He was happy, proud even, to have that kind of strength and show it off to you. Tonka bean and vetiver… Perhaps even an orange blossom. It was nice, even if the reason behind it was a little morbid, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes and indulge.

              The scent got stronger, and suddenly you were startled by a low chuckle, your eyes flashing open to see you were leaning towards him. Satoru had slowed down in front of your house and turned the car off, his cheeks a flush in the dim light, “Having you relax around me like that feels so nice. I can’t tell you enough how happy you’ve just made me.”

              You open your mouth immediately to say sorry, only to close it after a moment’s thought. He doesn’t smell like he’s trying to bully you or mad that you thought you could get so close to him without repercussions. How much longer can you hold out from someone who is being so kind to you?

              “You don’t have to reply to that,” he tells you, saving you from thinking of an acceptable response. Satoru gets out first, hurrying to your side while you unbuckle yourself to let you out. You smile at him and let him take your hand, holding you close as he closes the door and pushes you against the car. A small gasp is pushed from you, surprised at his boldness. You’re lucky that this neighbourhood was relatively quiet, no one being awake at this hour to see you with anyone. “I really want to kiss you,” he says, face inching closer to you, “You have no idea how hard it was for me to hold back in the car.”

              Your eyes shift in nervousness, hands coming to press to Satoru’s chest, “W-wait, s’too soon-“

              “It’s fine,” he cuts, not letting you get another word out, smashing his lips to yours in a frenzied kiss. Your eyes dilate, his scent and taste making your heart jump with a certain anxiety – excitement – you’re letting your shoulders relax and clenching the front of his shirt as he takes the lead. Maybe… Maybe this isn’t so bad… His leg finds its way between the both of yours and gently grinds down, a small moan slipping from your mouth at the electric feeling. Next, he starts to slowly introduce his tongue to your mouth, the wet muscle a new sensation to you.

              Suddenly, you’re hit with an overwhelming pain, your gut tightening and your eyes watering as you double over into his chest. Your body is hot, panting, you lean into him and can hardly hear anything. Satoru is speaking, saying something, ‘sorry’ and ‘test’ are two words you think you understand but you can’t focus on sounds. What does help you, though, is the gentle caress his hand brings to your head. He holds you tight, safe, his pheromones echoing security and comfort through your mind. You mumble into his clothes once you feel you’re able to talk again, “Wh-what was that? That hurt so much…”          

              Satoru hums, both hands coming to your face which he cradles and regards you with loving eyes, “Have you ever been in heat, (Y/n)?”

              You sniffle, shaking your head, “No, I’ve taken suppressants since the day they found out what I was. It made puberty really difficult…”

              Satoru’s lips curl into a frown, “I imagine it would. It seems your body jumped into overdrive, the stimulation from kissing alone too much for you.”

              Your arms curled around yourself for some comfort, “My suppressants, they’re running low so I’ve been halving them to spread them out but they’re just making me feel sick.”

              “When did you start halving them?” He asks, eyes now wide with worry.

              “Uhm, I think about a few days ago? But I can’t get a hold of my doctor and it’s hard to find anyone that will willingly prescribe suppressants.” Your head falls into his chest, a feeling of defeat washing over you.

              Satoru pets your head, quiet in thought before he says, “Why not just stop taking them?”

              You have to laugh at that, tilting your head to look up at him, “You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

              “I’m not,” he closes his eyes, burying his nose in your neck and holding you close, “You’ve got me now, I’ll look after you. Fuck, you smell so good.”

              “Satoru-“ Your wrists are caught in his as he stares you down.

              Or, at least that is what he appears to be doing. You’re stuck in his grasp as you wait for him to make his statement, which he does once your lips smacks shut, “You don’t need to hide who you are anymore. Just think about it, ‘kay?”

              To get him off your back you give an exhale of defeat, rolling your eyes to the side and complying, “Fine. I’ll think about it. Cool?”

              His charming grin is almost enough to even fool you into thinking it was okay to relinquish your omega self to him, “Cool.”

.

Things were not cool. Not long after getting inside, your father had waited to pounce once the car Satoru drove was out of sight. Your vision had waned with the punch he threw at you, your body colliding with the hallway wall. “Disgusting!” He had spat, literally, his saliva landing on your cheek and barely missing your eye. His foot was next to make contact, kicking you hard enough in the stomach that you threw up a little of your dinner, “You reek of a fucking omega! I see you whoring yourself out, slut. Tryna hide the money from me, eh?”

              Another kick had you crying out, this one on your bicep and knocking you back to the ground. You wailed as he bent down and held your hair in a tight and painful grasp, “I’m not! I swear, I have no money!”

              He ignored you, his breath badly stained with alcohol, however, you were certain even without the influence he wouldn’t hold back, “Tryna seduce me? Hm? Your own father? You fucking wretch. If you don’t stop that smell right now I swear to whatever fucking God is out there…”

              You were bawling now, you could only assume your hormones were worse, your own senses dull to the smell of you. It hurt internally as well, your omega working overdrive as you try in vain to calm down so you didn’t have to endure the full impact of emitting such helpless hormones. It may not have worked the way you wanted it to, but, your father seemed to calm down with a sneer.

He threw your head to the floor and began walking away, “If you don’t get back on those fucking meds by tomorrow then I will kill you. I promise you that.”

You didn’t dare reply to that, thankful that he decided to walk away while you were still breathing tonight.

..

How fitting the weather is today, the clouds a dark grey and the skies pouring with rain. You had one umbrella with a hole between two of the spines but it was better than nothing. This morning you left the house with a bag packed and a small suitcase, only the essentials.

              You were on a bus ride to the other side of town to see your doctor. If they weren’t going to pick up the phone then you’d have to arrive suddenly. If he didn’t have the suppressors then you weren’t going to go home, in fact, you weren’t entirely sure if you were going to go back anyway. Perhaps a life on the street was better than this. A woman’s shelter wouldn’t take you in for the fact that you were an omega, and an omega shelter had an 80% chance of being a front for something worse than illegal.

              The bus stops where you need to be, the passengers loudly exclaiming that they’re happy you’re finally leaving. It doesn’t hurt so much today, you just have one thing on your mind.

              ‘Why not just kill yourself?’

              You stop at the thought, in the middle of opening your umbrella, standing in the rain. It was a thought, right? Ending it was always a nice joke but holy shit that voice sounded like it was right by your ear and… genuine. You weren’t exactly scared, a little shocked, sure but, maybe you should bring that up with your doctor, too.

              However, as you got closer and closer to the clinic, you began to think they weren’t open. Though there was the receptionist’s and the doctor’s cars outside, the curtains were drawn, the lights were off and the sign, once you got close enough to read, was saying ‘Closed’.

              Your hand reaches to your heart as you feel it thumping hard in anxiety, your pheromones beginning to linger around you as a thick, steady aura. Thank goodness this place was off the city boarder, not many people around to subject you to bullying and hatred. You look back to the cars again, both of them parked neatly in the small lot. Even if it’s closed, you need to push past your nervousness and gently demand your medication. If you didn’t… Well, he knows just as well as you do.

              You knock on the glass with a firm hit, calling out for good measure, “Dr. Kodoka, it’s me, (Y/n).”

              Silence.

              You knock again, if they don’t want to be disturbed then the earlier they open up to you the better. “Dr. Kodoka, please, I really need to talk to you. It’s an emergency,” you plead, hoping he could tell by the sound of your voice how desperate you were.

              Your gut drops as more silence is your only response. You probably should have tried this first, grabbing the long handle of the door and trying to open it. No surprise, it’s locked. Perhaps there’s a back entrance? Oh, you feel so seedy scrounging around a doctor’s office.

              Past the skip bins there’s a narrow entrance just wide enough for one person between the building and a wired fence. You’re not sure why the wired fence is even here, it’s not attached to anything and only separates a portion of the office from an open wheat field. Luck smiles upon you as you try this door, the entrance clicking open and allowing you to step into the darkness.

              One deep breath before you call out has you positively gagging at the disgusting scent that assaults you nose and mouth. It’s unavoidable, the little bit of vomit that works its way up your throat is involuntarily spat out onto the linoleum floor. What. The. Fuck.

              This has to be the worst experience you’ve ever been through, the tears in your eyes falling freely as you persevere through the smell. You know you need to call the police, you know something like this isn’t normal. However, if you do, and they find out you’re an omega here to purchase suppressants then there’s a good chance you’ll both be dead. It’s happened before, police getting trigger happy or beating up omegas and any allies. Of course, society doesn’t care. More filth off the streets.

              There’s a sound towards the entrance, something being knocked over, as well as some sort of ‘sludging’ noise. Could it be one of them trying to get to the door? Someone must be alive! You quietly move towards the entrance, past the main office, the break room, and peak through the broken door of the reception. It’s horrendous.

              All the gore has been maintained in this area. Limbs, a spine, half a head that has been poorly cut from the top of their skull through their chin- and that’s only the background. In the middle of it all, this giant, wrinkly, slug-like creature appears to be waking up. It has an amass of arms and hands over it’s back and sides, and one twitching on the tip of its tail. The stalks that would be its eyes slowly raise, turning in all directions as if looking around.

              You fall against the door, your entire being freezing up in a shock mode. The thud of your body hitting the floor alerts it to you, and you notice now that instead of eyes, it was wearing the distraught faces of the doctor and receptionist. The receptionist still had one of her eyes hanging from their socket, whilst the doctor was completely eyeless, with only a couple of teeth and the tip of his tongue drooping from the gaping mouth.

              It hones in on your position and starts charging at an alarming pace, the only thing you can do is scream your throat raw as your end nears. It’s too horrifying, too real to be a dream you can escape. The creature splits its mouth with human-like teeth in mismatched rows and thrashing hands over its body and you can’t look away from your demise.

              You don’t blink, and because you don’t blink it’s hard to believe anything happened.

              As fast as light itself, a man appears and slashes the slug in half, horizontally through its open mouth with a light so white there’s a tint of blue to it. The guttural scream it lets out is so closely related to a human’s that you are only filled with more fear. The man, who turns to give you a cocky wink and that you can now see is Satoru Gojo, makes a crude display of holding his index and middle finger in front of his face and slowly licking his digits with the flat of his tongue; before slicing the creature up into smaller pieces until it bursts into sprays of blood and nothingness.

              Your hearing was skewed, you barely recognise his footsteps as he walks towards you and bends down to hold his hand out. You tell your mind to grab it, to accept his kindness after saving you but you’re caught in your own sense of dread and confusion as not a speck of blood is seen on Satoru or his white hair, or his devilish smile, or that black coat with the collar sticking around his neck.

              Satoru’s smile softens and he’s sure you can’t hear him when speaks to you, “Ah, I see we’ll have to cut our deal short. That’s okay, we’re only one date off anyway.” He reaches for your hands, placing them both in one of his and stroking the backs with his thumb. He then slowly removes his blindfold and tilts your chin with his free hand to force you to meet his silvery gaze, “(Y/n), sweetheart, look at me. Everything is okay now.”

              His eyes are so blue… White… Silver… They’re like crystals or diamonds or two pools of galaxies – they’re out of this world. His lashes are gorgeous too, and for some reason you feel a ping of jealousy amongst all this chaos because how can a man be so beautiful just by taking off his blindfold. Like a character taking off their glasses to reveal they were beautiful all along. Wait, what are these thoughts? In this horrible situation you suddenly feel like giggling.

              Satoru chuckles, keeping your focus solely on him as he lifts you in his arms to carry you out. People in suits run past you but neither of you pay them no mind as he keeps talking, “What silly thoughts are going through that omega mind of yours?” You laugh incredulously, feeling your body fall heavier in his arms he adjusts you, “There it is, there’s that adrenaline leaving you. I gotcha, sweetheart.”

.

You’re sat on the back of an ambulance with a blanket around your shoulders and a bottle of water wedged between your legs. A few feet away is Satoru, talking to someone so casually you wouldn’t think he just killed a monster with his own hands; literally. You watch as he dismisses the person and walks back over to you with a smile, his blindfold back on and his hands coming from his pockets to bring you into a side embrace, “How are you feeling? That was quite an experience, huh?”

              Trauma makes people react differently to things, so if this was his job then it makes sense he wouldn’t be so distressed. “I smell of decay,” you sigh, though you weren’t covered in filth you definitely had some stains. Even without the mess, the stale air in the clinic was enough to cling to you. You squeeze the blanket tighter around you, “How could something like this happen? They were generous people. Kind; caring.”

              Satoru seemed to think for a moment, as if deciding what the best thing to say right now would be. Whether it was helpful or not, he opted for the truth, placing one of his large hands below your neck for comfort, “They were helping omegas, and regardless of their personality, a lot of stigma comes from there. Constant stress to keep a secret, harsh words from the few friends and family that know, it all adds up and creates the perfect scent for a curse to trail.”

              “I remember you saying you that they are attracted to negative energy. So, rather than feeding off the energy itself they eat the humans?” You ask, though you already know the answer to that. You just can’t wrap your head around how this is even possible. You recall his eyes, how pretty they are beneath the blindfold, “Is that why your eyes are so striking, because you have the power to fight them?”

              A laugh bubbles from his chest, his hand squeezing your back, “Sort of. Not everyone is like me, though. In fact, no one is like me.” He steps back, arms open wide and head tilted towards the sky, “I’m the most powerful sorcerer to exist! Killing that creature used nothing but a flick of my wrist.” When he looks back to you there is a strange, powerful feeling that emanates from him, even some of the detectives around you seem to tense, “Nothing can touch me. In turn, nothing will ever touch you.”

              What he says should be something kind, words of protection and safety. However, as his gaze burns through the blindfold and into your own, you feel like your breath has been whisked away and your body is being pulled to the ground, trapping you in place for him. It only lets up when your phone begins to ring, and to get out of this awkward feeling of a situation you answer it, “Hello, this is (Y/n).”

              The voice on the other side of the phone makes you almost vomit, your father sounding almost melancholic, “(Y/n)… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted like that. Come home.”

              You’re at a loss for words. He wants you home? No, that’s a lie, you can’t understand what is going on with him. Something tickles your ear and you jump to see Satoru leaning close so he can listen to your conversation. He smiles at you and nods, whispering, “Say yes.”

              Satoru saved you and promised to protect you. He wouldn’t be telling you to agree if you were going to get hurt, you’d like to believe. So, swallowing your hesitation you reply, “O-Okay, dad. I’ll come home.”

              He breathes a huge sigh of relief, “Thank god, thank you, (Y/n). Thank you so much.”

              You hang up and look to Satoru with worry, “Do you think he’s going to kill me?”

              “Nah, I won’t let him,” Satoru says, confidently. You think you can trust him, especially since you watched him take down a strong monster, your angry alpha of a father would be no match for him. He sees you’re still worried, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand and his smile doing its best to calm you, “Let’s finish up here.”

.

By the time you two are at your house the sun was low in the sky. Satoru had parked down the street this time, the two of you walking slowly down footpath to avoid suspicion. You were already on edge, however, when Satoru told you he wanted you to go in alone, you froze up completely.

              He just stood there, allowing you to process what he said. You started by shaking your head, grabbing onto his hand, “No. No, please, you said-“

              “-I said I’d protect you and I will. I’m going to go around the back, you just walk up like everything is hunky-dory, ‘kay?”

              With a squeeze of your shoulder, he skips around, his carefree attitude not exactly lifting your anxiety. One thing is for certain, though, and that’s that you’ve seen him kill the other curse before. You know he can do it. You trust him. Alpha status aside, if you have any friend in this world then it’s Satoru Gojo.

              You take your time going up to the front door, hand trembling as you reach for the knob. It’s unlocked, the door creaking open ominously. You get a cold rush through your body, the inside at freezing temperatures. It’s unnatural, making you step back in shock and shivering in what you could only describe as unease.

              But it’s okay, because Satoru is here. He said he would protect you and the prospect has you feeling your cheeks flush. He’s like… your alpha.

              The inside is quiet, save for the humming of electricity coming from the fridge. You walk slowly in and look around, spying your father in lounge room on his recliner, hands intertwined as he leans forward. You don’t shut the door, feeling just a tad easier with the escape route.

              It isn’t until you’re standing before him that a whistling of wind causes the door to slam shut on its own, the locks clicking in place unnaturally. Your confused look in that direction has him huffing a laugh. Your father doesn’t give you the courtesy of eye contact, “You know that on the day you were born, your mother and I were at our happiest?”

              It’s an odd way to start a conversation, and though you were certain this was a trap of some kind, you don’t know what else to do except respond meekly, “I didn’t know that no.”

              A humourless laugh accompanies the way he sits up, shoulders slumped, and eyes dazed behind you, “No, of course you don’t. We only told you once when you were just a newborn. Once you got your status in life, well… It was too shameful to ever bring up again. We were completely embarrassed we every felt that way about an omega.”

              He’s not just staring off into nothing, you notice the way his eyes look specifically behind you. Is it Satoru, did he come inside? You turn your head, only to go rigid and fall back in fear. Not another one… Not another curse.

              It was too tall for the ceiling, curving over like a hook with its head twisted to be partially upright. Tiny mouths were strewn over its face and down its neck, human teeth in all sorts of odd places like the lips and cheeks of the creature. The main mouth was skewed to the side and grinning openly down at you, and the eyes that are sunken, almost giving a hollow effect, were as dark as a black hole; though you knew instantly that it had its gaze locked on you. Four lanky arms reach from its shoulders, the body a crooked mass of black and its fingers twitching in all the wrong directions with painful cracks of possible bone.

              The worst part that solidified its presence was when it spoke, his voice raspy and words barely tangible, “Dau…ght…er… Path..et..ic ome…gck.a. Delectabblle—dinn….eerrr.”

              You jumped at the firm hands on your shoulders, keeping you in place as the curse limped forwards. Your father spoke in a neutral tone, “It appeared not long after your mother left. At first, I didn’t know what to make of it, who to contact or what to do. Eventually, I started nurturing it. It grew with every argument we had, relished in my anger and pain. I let it feed off me and now it wants more. Now it wants you. You’ll do this, right? It’s the only good thing you’re for, after all. It’ll save me, your family.”

              Tears streamed down your face, head shaking as you shifted back. Even with the bit of adrenaline you were able to muster, you were no match for your father, forced to endure the visual of this creature’s fingers itching to get a hold of your flesh. You could only sob, no words coming out, not even to call for Satoru.

              Thankfully, you didn’t have to. Your saviour appears once more, and as though the curse is nothing but a guy on the street, he places his hand on its back and gives a low whistle, “Low blow, dad. And here I was excited to finally meet my father-in-law.”

              There’s a pressure now in the air, one that has you curling in on yourself, and causing the curse’s open smile to turn into a low hanging frown. Its head spins on its neck, trying to get a look at the man that has it. Your father is more concerned about the words Satoru spoke, though, the tips of his fingers digging painfully into your skin, “’Father-in-law’? You whore. I knew you were out selling yourself. Looks like even to the end, you’re nothing but an embarrassment. That’s all going to change, though. Now you and your boy toy can die together.”

              Satoru laughs, and before you can even blink, he appears behind your father and grabs his wrist, easily shattering the bones and causing him to let go of you. You shift to the side, away from both him and the curse as he screams. Satoru tuts at him, waggling his finger nonchalantly in the air, “Parents should protect their children, not sacrifice them. Honestly…” His voice lowers into something almost sad, though you’re wondering if Gojo Satoru was actually privy to that emotion in the first place or if he was just a really good actor, “People like you disgust me.”

              A bright light that radiates such an intense heat envelops the lounge room. Your arm comes up to cover your face, eyes squinting, all you can hear are the pained cries of your father and the garbled curse. It sends fear coursing through your body, even if Satoru is on your side, just what sort of power does he control? The carnage you expect to see once your eyes adjust isn’t anywhere. The light is gone, everyone else in the room is gone, thin burn marks are left where your father and the curse once was.

              You jump at the hand on your shoulder, your saviour appearing once again out of nowhere. He smirks, acting a little flustered, “Sorry, are your eyes okay? I just wanted to show off a little bit.”

              Again, he’s able to treat this like it’s any other menial task. You ask him, voice quiet, “Where are they?”

              He tilts his head at you, a little pouty that your first concern was them and not the praise you should be heaping on your hero. He squeezes your shoulder, comfortingly, “What do you mean? They’re gone, does it really matter where?”

              It takes a few goes on shaky legs, but, you’re able to stand and face him, “I’m just a little concerned what even happened. Watching you fight the other one, I couldn’t wrap my head around it, and now this- … Are they…?”

              “Dead? Yes.”

              You exhale at his blatant response. Is this something you should blame yourself for, the killing of your father and that… thing? Or is that just your life-long need to put any negative responsibility on you for merely being born an omega.

              Satoru wraps his arm around you and leads you out of the lounge room to help your overclocked mind, "Here’s what would have happened if I didn’t do that: The curse would eat you, devour your father, and then go on a rampage hunting primarily other poor omegas. It’s happened before, baby. Besides,” he cups your face in his hands, making you look up at him, “He was a horrible man. No loss. Can you really say you loved him?”

              The only love you had for your father was before your scent kicked in. After that, he was worse than a stranger to you. You fiddle with your fingers, abashedly looking away, “What happens now?”

              “Now,” he excitedly jostles you, the smile on his face huge, “You come with me!”

              Your eyebrows furrow, his goofy attitude somehow lessening the severity of the situation for you, “I can’t just do that.”

              “Sure you can! Where else are you gonna go?” He questions, awaiting an answer he knows you won’t be able to think of. He takes your hands in his and gets down on one knee, “(Y/n), I know it hasn’t been very long, but when I say I’ve finally found the love of my life-“

              Cheeks burning, you push away from him, trying to cover up his teasing laugh with your hands to your ears, “Stop! Stop stop stop stop stop. Fine, I’ll come along with you.” You don’t think you can ever get used to being flirted with, especially in the unique ways that Satoru comes up with.

              He gives you a gentle push, “Go grab some valuables, baby. We’ll leave once you’re ready.”

              Satoru watches as you move up the stairs, grumbling about the sudden use of ‘baby’ he’s started getting attached to. Hah, how he really does love you. His hand comes to the straining of his cock in his pants, palming the ache that’s been prevalent for a while now. Not long now, he can’t way to absolutely ruin you. An omega that’s never had a proper heat, and he gets to be your first toy, just as much as you are his. His luck truly is divine, if anyone deserves it, it’s definitely him.

[ellecdc]

Come Back, Be Here (part 2)

pt1 // pt2 // pt3 // pt4 // pt5 // pt6 // pt7 // pt8

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 6k words

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, angst, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. How will Sirius react when he finally gets his love back, but you don't seem to recognize any of them? (concept inspired by Recognition by aeaean__bliss on ao3)

Sirius entered the Potter’s cottage in Godric’s Hollow the next morning with (far too many, in Lily’s opinion) bags of your things.

My girl is not going without, Red. He’d simply said. Who was she to argue?

After a restless sleep, most of Sirius’ night was spent doggedly watching your sleeping form. He couldn’t complain; he’d certainly had worst nights and he’d happily spend the rest of his nights this way if that meant keeping you around. Once Harry was up for the day according to his parents, Sirius decided to leave you in Lily’s capable hands while he retrieved some things from his flat, and picked up some personals for you from Tesco. He had left a glass of water, more pain potion and your wand which had been in the cloak you were found in on the bedside table with a note saying he'd be back soon.

He brought the bags into your bedroom – or, the spare room, he supposed – and tried to suppress the panic he felt when you weren’t in the bed where he’d last seen you this morning.

He failed though, and he did indeed panic. Apparently, the trauma of unexpectedly losing a loved one (and then getting them back much the same way) takes longer to shake than 18 hours.

Sirius noticed a shuffling sound in the bathroom, and his rational mind told him that you were simply using the washroom and he should just wait outside, or, hell, knock like a gentleman.

The other half of his brain – the one currently driving his central nervous system - was telling him to break doors down.

He decided to choose a happy medium and pulled his wand, leaning to listen against the door. When he failed to hear any more movement, he opened it slowly. He held his breath and begged his heart to stop hammering in his chest as he surveyed the room. He moved into the seemingly empty bathroom, until he turned back towards the door and saw you hiding between the open door and the wall.

“Whoa there love, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spook ya.” Sirius chuckled under his breath, holding his hands up in surrender. He tried to smile while his heart broke at the sight of the cowering girl before him.

Your hand trembled as you lowered your own wand and let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“No, I’m sorry, gorgeous. I should have knocked.” He countered. “You got my note?”

You seemed to shake yourself and square your shoulders.

“Yes, you had errands?” You queried as you both exited the bathroom.

“That I did!” He answered jovially. “I took care of some business and sent a note to my supervisor saying I’d be taking a leave of absence for the next while. I also went shopping.”

Sirius pulled out the bags he had set behind the couch with a flourish.

“We’ve got you lots of your own clothes now, so you won’t need to borrow from our dear Lily flower.” He said, motioning towards the tracksuit spilling over your body.

You peered into the bags, and Sirius watched excitedly as you pulled the bag he had brought from his and Remus’ flat to your lap. Please remember he begged you silently.

You gently pulled out a zippered knit jumper. Your zippered knit jumper. “This is mine.”

Sirius failed to suppress a smirk. “It’s all yours, love.”

“No.” You argued. “This is mine, it was mine. Before.” You stated clearly, holding it up in front of you. Your brows were furrowed, and Sirius tried to ignore how cute you looked.

“Ah, so it is.” He offered noncommittally

Your eyes flit between him and the sweater for a few moments, and Sirius let you ponder. Please remember.

“I loved this sweater. It was my favourite.”

Sirius hummed as if in thought. “Do you remember where you got it?”

Your left eye twitched as you scrutinized the article of clothing.

“I think,” you started, grunting as if it was hard to get out. “I think it was a gift.”

Yes, Sirius thought, you can do it baby.

“Who gave it to you?”

You actually whimpered as you dropped the jumper into your lap and clenched your forehead.

“I can’t...” You started. “It’s like I know that I know the answer, but I just can’t get it.” You muttered miserably.

“Hey, hey. That’s alright.” Sirius said, removing the sweater from your lap and replacing it with his hands. He drew circles on the backs of your hands and willed you to look at him.

He continued talking when you finally met his eyes. “You don’t have to remember right now. You’re alright.”

Your eyes jumped from each of Sirius’ grey ones as if searching for the answers you were missing. He’d gladly give you all of them if he could.

Slowly, so, so slowly, you lowered your forehead to his.

This is how Lily found you both; Sirius on his knees in front of you with your hands intertwined in your lap and your foreheads pressed together. She hated to interrupt.

“Knock, knock.” She called to the room quietly. The two of you whipped your heads to face her, both blushing as if you had been caught doing something naughty.

“Hate to interrupt Pads, but I was wondering if you could help me with something for a sec?”

Sirius turned back to you and offered you a soft smile before joining Lily in the hallway.

“Well, that looked cozy.” She teased gently which was met with a very dramatic eyeroll.

“Yeah, yeah, Red. What is it you needed.”

“I spoke with Dumbledore. I haven’t told him why yet, but I asked for a Healer – one specialized in neuropsychological practice.” She trailed off as Sirius’ eyes widened in horror.

“There’s a healer coming here. To your safe house.” He managed, feeling like he might faint.

“Well, no,” Lily muttered, “you’d have to go meet her at St. Mungo’s and then apparate her here.”

Sirius stared at what he officially considered to be his dumbest friend.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He whispered as he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the kitchen. “What point of in hiding or safe house don’t you understand?”

Lily ripped her arm from his grip. “Listen, Dumbledore trusts the healer, they won’t be given the address, you’ll just be escorting them. And, I want to be here for her.”

Sirius had begun tallying up counter points but deflated at the end of her sentence. Lily didn’t miss it.

“I want to be here for her.” She repeated.

Sirius sucked in a breath between his teeth and looked to the heavens for answers. The heavens had never answered him before so he wasn’t sure why he felt disappointed when they left him on his own again.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Red.”

They were joined in the kitchen by James and a miniature version of James who appeared to have just woken up as he rubbed his eyes with two pudgy hands from his father’s hip.

“There’s the prongslet!” Sirius beamed at his godson.

“Pa-foo!” The child squealed and held his arms out for him, tiredness completely forgotten.

Sirius happily took the almost-toddler and sat him on his lap.

“Alright Pads?” James queried.

“Not bad Prongs, yourself?” He responded coolly.

James grimaced at his friend’s displeasure with him but carried on making small talk while preparing breakfast for the infant.

The awkwardness was interrupted by a light knock, but it wasn’t from the front door. Lily and Sirius exchanged a look while James took Harry from Sirius’ lap.

“Y/N?” Lily called tentatively, which was answered by the bedroom door slowly opening and exposing you.

You had changed out of Lily’s tracksuit and were wearing the zippered knit jumper and a pair of green corduroy trousers that Sirius knew he bought a size or two too large but figured they could spell them smaller, and it’d be easier to let them out as you regained some weight. It appeared you had already spelled them in, and Sirius tried really hard not to stare at how good it made your arse look.

“Awe! I remember that sweater! That’s the one you bought her for her birthday; isn’t it Pads?” Lily exclaimed, causing you to pause and Sirius to blush furiously.

You watched as James smirked and Sirius looked towards you shyly.

“Did I thank you for it?” You asked as you cleared your throat and sat at the far end of the table.

Sirius coughed before he answered. “Er, yeah. Yes, you loved it.” He admitted.

“Good. It was my favourite.” You reiterated and looked to the little babbling baby in James’ lap.

“Who’s the little one? Must be yours.” You mentioned, motioning to James.  The baby was the spitting image of what you could only imagine was his father, except perhaps the eyes. He had...

“Yes, he has his mother’s eyes though.” James admitted, smiling adoringly at Lily who shared his grin and brushed a finger across the baby’s cheek.

“Y/N, this is our son, Harry. Harry James Potter.” Lily stated.

The three friends smiled at the baby at one end of the table before turning to meet your ghostly pale face of at the other end of the table, who seemed to be looking at Harry in horror.

“He’s...” you started before swallowing, “he’s Harry Potter?”

Lily and James shared a look before Lily answered with a simple “yes.”

You looked frantically at the three adults surrounding the child.

“Is this house safe?” You demanded; Sirius was almost excited at how much like your old self you sounded but was startled by how familiar this panic of yours was. The last year you had together was spent in almost a near state of it. “Who knows we’re here?”

“What’s the matter, love?” Sirius started, standing up slowly but stopping all movements when you stood as well, wooden chair grating loudly against the floor beneath you.

“Who knows the child is here? Who can get in?”

“Y/N, please, I need you to calm down and tell us what’s wrong.” Lily pleaded, approaching you with her hands up from the opposite side of Sirius who began doing the same.

“‘You-know-who’ is looking for him. The prophecy.” You stated, eyes watering as you stared at Harry in James’ arms, who had since stood from the table and had his wand pointed at you.

“James, put your wand down.” Sirius spat as his friend as he reached you and gently touched your arm.

“Who knows he’s here? Is this house safe?” You demanded again, your voice starting to sound shrill and your breathing becoming erratic.

“It’s safe love, we’re safe. It’s okay. The house is protected by the Fidelius charm. Please breathe for me.” Sirius said as he gently embraced you and pulled your head to his chest, shielding you from the aim of James’ wand with his body.

His words seemed to work, as you let out a breath and leaned into his touch. “You’re sure?” You muttered into his chest.

“I promise it’s safe, love. I’d not let you or Harry stay somewhere that wasn’t.” He said, pointedly shooting a look at James who had finally lowered his wand.  

He relished the feel of you in his arms for as long as you would allow it. Apparently, you needed it just as much, because it was a few moments before you were finally willing to pull away from his chest.

“Vix, why don’t we go play some cards?” Lily asked, holding up a deck.

You smiled and nodded, and the two of you retreated to the bedroom, Harry on his mother’s hip. The men waited until they heard the door click behind you.

“Look, mate-”

“You pointed your fucking wand at her whilst she fretted over the wellbeing of your son!" Sirius seethed at his friend.

"Sirius-”

“She is broken James. She is not dangerous, she’s scared.”

“Sirius please, I-”

“She’s fucking terrified; Lily and I can hardly touch her, she’s afraid of her own shadow. I didn’t immediately announce myself this morning and I found her hiding in the bathroom with her wand at the ready. She escaped, bloody hell knows how, but she escaped and she’s terrified. And you pointed your wand at her!”

“I’m sorry!” James finally shouted. “Sirius I’m sorry. I’m scared too. I’m scared. And honestly, I think it’s because I’m afraid I deserve it. I feel guilty, Sirius. So. Bloody. Guilty. I couldn’t sleep for months without seeing the look on her face the moment we realized she wasn’t going to make it home with me. And I didn’t sleep at all last night because I hate myself for leaving her there and I think if she could remember me, she’d probably hate me too. And she should. She should hate me. And if she did, she’d probably want me and my family dead. Okay? I’m fucking terrified and I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” James’ finished, his chest heaving as if he ran a marathon.

Sirius huffed at his friend and felt his face heat up. He angrily wiped at it and his hand came back wet – he was crying. “Fuck” He breathed and leaned over the table.

“I’m sorry.” James whispered again.

You and Lily played a few rounds of goldfish, rummy and big bertha. Lily asked you where you had learned to play these games, but all you could remember was that your friends at school taught you; though you couldn’t remember who the friends were. As the two of you played, your left eye kept twitching.

Lily was reshuffling the deck when there was a knock at the door.

“Hey girls, the healer is here.” James said through the door before gently opening it.

A kind witch who introduced herself as Healer Grundke entered the room with Sirius and James, who picked up a babbling Harry to sit out of the way.

“So,” The Healer started, having you sit at the end of the high bed with your feet hanging off of it, “We’ll start with some easy questions.”

You told the healer your full legal name, your date of birth and hometown, and your parents’ names without any issues.

“Very good,” she continued. “I’m going to continue asking questions about yourself, your life, your family and your friends. But I’m going to cast a diagnostic spell of your mind which should show us a scan of the locations of your brain that your answers are coming from, and if there happens to be anything interfering with you recalling that information. Does that sound okay?”

You nodded and the healer waved her wand above your head. Sirius watched as a scan of your brain materialized above you. Sirius thought it was beautiful, even though he had no idea what any of it meant. Lily appeared to be scrutinising it with much more authority whilst James and Harry enjoyed the look of the pretty lights.

“What does your father do?”

“He...he was an ambassador. He worked in government.”

“Was. Has he passed?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry to hear. How did he pass?”

“Heart attack.”

With every question and answer, lights flashed across your scan, signifying information entering and exiting different areas of your brain.

“And your mother?”

“Also dead.”

“How did she pass?”

“Car accident.”

“How old were you when she passed?”

“Fifteen.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Half siblings, from my mother’s first marriage. They both chose to stay with their father in Canada when she relocated.”

“Where did you attend school?”

“Hogwarts.”

“Which house were you in?”

More flashes appeared on the scan.

You chuckled before giving her your answer.  

The healer averted her eyes from the scan to your face. “What makes you laugh about that?”

“I was a hat stall.”

“Were you really?” The question comes from James, which earned him a nudge from Lily.

“Yes. It was humiliating.” You said with a smirk.

“What caused the stall?” Sirius asked, though he already knew.

You looked up and to the left as you recalled your sorting ceremony experience.

“The hat probably would have thrown me into Slytherin immediately had I not been muggle-born. Small mercies that, I suppose. I wasn’t quite outgoing or extroverted enough to be placed in the house of the brave, though I had a strong sense of justice. Loyalty was one of my biggest attributes, but I wasn’t always very kind or thoughtful with my words. I wasn’t extremely bookish or the academic type, but I was witty. Apparently, I was a real mystery.”

The healer smirked at that.

“That you are, dear.”

You smiled kindly at the healer.

“Okay, where were we? Ah yes, what was your favourite class in school?”

“Hmm...”

Sirius smirked. My little swot. Can’t even choose a favourite class after all these years.

“Probably charms, or transfiguration. I really enjoyed care of magical creatures as well. Arithmancy and alchemy felt familiar and came easily to me because they reminded me of muggle maths and chemistry. I think...”

You trailed off as the scan turned an angry colour for a minute before it settled back down.

The healer looked at the scan and asked again.

“You liked charms, transfiguration, care of magical creatures, arithmancy, alchemy and...”

The scan moved again, and even Sirius could notice that a flash of light was trying to travel a path between two memories, but one appeared to be wrapped up inside of a silver-coloured orb, which caused the light that had been travelling to it to splinter and disperse.

“And, I think, uhm,” You tried again as your left eye started twitching. “I enjoyed astronomy.” You finished on an exhale.

“Astronomy.” The healer clarified.

“Uhm,” You thought again, “yes, I liked astronomy.”

“Did it cause physical pain to recall that information?”

“Yes.”

Sirius and Lily exchanged a glance.

“Where did it hurt?”

You sighed, “the pain seems to stay primarily behind my left eye. If I try too hard it becomes a pulsing pain that seems to circulate around my skull. I’m sorry I can’t explain it better.”

“No apologies necessary, this is very helpful.”

The healer was quiet for a moment while she looked through the notes.

“Okay, do you remember graduating from Hogwarts?”

You thought for a moment before responding. “I remember that I did graduate, but I don’t remember the day.”

“And what did you do after graduation?”

“I moved in with friends.”

“Who did you live with?”

The scan flashed again.

“I don’t know.” You admitted.

“Did you work?”

“I remember working. I remember fighting.”

“But...” The healer pushed.

“But I cannot remember for whom or with who was working nor fighting.”

The healer was quiet for a moment.

“Y/N, can you look at Sirius for me please.”

Your gaze moved and you held eye contact with Sirius.

“Think of a memory with him.” You were instructed.

A light travelled in the lower left scan unaffected.

“Can you describe the memory?”

A faint blush appeared on your cheeks.

“I thought of how he held me this morning, after an argument in the kitchen.” You admitted.

Sirius’ heart thumped in his chest. When asked for a memory of him, you thought of being held in his arms. I’m one hell of a lucky man.

 “Very good. Now, Sirius, can you ask her about a memory from before she went missing?” The healer in structed.

Sirius thought for a moment.

“Do you remember when we got into a fight, and you charmed my hair pink and wouldn’t reverse it until I announced in front of the entire Great Hall that I was wrong and you were smarter than me?”

Your scan flashed violently as the healer and your friends watched a light travel along a path towards the same large silver orb as before. As soon as the light met the orb, it splintered. You winced.

“Okay, alright. Now, look at Lily please.”

You looked back up at your red-headed friend as your left eye stopped twitching. The red head offered a gentle smile in return.

“Think of a memory with Lily.”

Again, they watched as a light travelled along a path on your scan completely uninterrupted.

“What was your memory?”

“She made me tea and served it the way that I like.”

“When was this?”

“Yesterday – last night. I don’t know what time.”

“Very good,” the healer said, looking at her notes. “Now Lily, can you tell her a memory of you two from before?”

Lily smirked. “What about the time we skived off prefect rounds to go skinny dipping in the Black Lake after we caught McLaggen cheating on me?”

The scan flashed violently again as the light travelled to an orange-coloured orb and splintered upon impact.

“I see...” The healer stated, more to herself than anyone else.

“Healer Grundke, what is it that we’re seeing?” Lily asked finally. Sirius was thankful someone else voiced it, he was sort of intimidated by this woman if he was being honest.

“Well, I can’t be sure yet, but I have a hypothesis. Perhaps we can test it out.” She turned to the other three adults in the room. “Do any of you know how to occlude?”

James shook his head and Lily grimaced, but Sirius nodded his head. “I can’t say I’m extremely good at the practice, but I have some experience.”

“That’ll do, Sirius. Can you please sit beside Y/N here?”

Sirius smirked “I would love nothing more, m’lady.” He said in a sultry voice and winked at you. You rolled her eyes at him. Oh my Godric! We’re making progress!

Sirius propped himself on the bed entirely closer to you than was strictly necessary, but he couldn’t really be blamed, he was after all just a man.

The healer walked across the room and picked up a small picture frame from the fire mantle. She looked at Sirius to ensure he was watching her and threw it across the room where it hit the wall and smashed to the ground.

“We were all thinking it, and she just does it.” James murmured to himself, earning him a kick in the shin from his wife.

The healer walked back over to Sirius and pulled up a matching scan of his brain above him. He was astonished to see how different his scan looked compared to yours. Your lights travelling the paths were a warm yellow, while his were red. The thoughts and paths were also organized differently.

“Okay Sirius, please recall the memory of what you just saw me do.”

Sirius did as he was asked, and the healer watched his scan as the red light travelled a set path before she used her wand to mark where the light travelled to.

“Thank you, now occlude that memory from your mind for me.”

Sirius closed his eyes in concentration. Occlusion didn��t come as naturally to him as it had to his younger brother Regulus, possibly because Sirius never much felt like keeping his thoughts to himself anyways. He preferred to anger his parents by voicing his thoughts and opinions, whilst Regulus found comfort in keeping those locked away. Nevertheless, Sirius understood that sometimes one needed to lock some thoughts away, what with his psychopath cousin Bellatrix and her love for Legillimency. It was also one of the only ways Sirius survived his time at Grimmauld before he finally left for good in the summer between 5th and 6th year. Sirius boxed up this memory of the healer smashing the picture frame in his mind and slowly opened his eyes, keeping the memory in its box.

Sirius’ eyes fell to Lily who looked astonished. He took a peak up to his scan where the healer had erased her mark and exposed a purple-coloured orb that sat in its place.

“Is that...Is that the memory?” He asked under his breath, hardly believing what he was seeing.

“I believe it is.” She answered.

The room sat in silence for a few moments before Lily broke it.

“So, are you suggesting that the orbs present in Y/N’s scans are areas of occlusion?” Lily asked scrutinizing the scan above her friend’s head.

“I believe it is Lily. My current theory is that your friend has occluded memories associated with those closest to her.”

“But she remembered her parents, and siblings.” James interjected from the far side of the room.

“But they didn’t need protecting.” Lily exhaled, looking wide-eyed at her friend.

“Exactly.” The healer said, clearly impressed with the thought process of Lily Evans Potter as well as her own work here today.

“So let me get this straight.” James stated, standing up with a baby in his arms and joining everyone else in the centre of the room. “Y/N has buried her memories of us - her friends and Order members - so deep inside her brain that even she can’t access them in order to keep them safe against...”

“Against people willing to use torture, Legillimency, or other nefarious means to get information. Yes James, exactly.” Sirius finished James’ thought bluntly, staring at his friend with a blank face.

“So, what you’re saying is I’m a total arse.” He concluded.

“Yes, and we have it on a healer’s authority too.” Lily agreed, winking at Sirius.

Sirius glanced up at his scan and noticed the box surrounding his memory fading. The occlusion was wearing off.

“But look, the protection of the memory has worn off now that I’m not focused on protecting it. As far as we know, Y/N isn’t even aware that she is protecting memories. Why is it different?” He asked the healer.

“I'm aware that there are protected memories, I’m just not actively trying to do it.” You countered.

“I have to admit, I’ve not seen anything quite like this before myself.” The healer admitted. “It would appear that whoever or whatever you were trying to protect these memories from required more than a temporary solution.”

“Will she be able to resurface the buried memories?” Lily interjected.

“I believe so. There’s very little that magic can’t undo,” She started as she waved her wand with a quick reparo to the picture frame and the sheet rock that the picture frame hit. “I suspect once she begins to relax and feel safe in her surroundings, this underlying sense of needing to protect the memories will dissipate.”

The room stayed quiet for a few moments; Sirius looked over at you as you fiddled with your hands in your lap. He wished so badly he could jump inside your brain and know what you were thinking. How did this all make you feel?

“I feel a pull,” You started quietly. “When I’m trying to recall a memory, or someone tries to remind me of something. It’s as if someone is pulling at rocks that have been tightly wedged into a crack in the wall. Sometimes they wobble or crumble a bit. Hurts like hell for a minute but, I don’t think it’s impossible.”

The healer hummed in acknowledgement. “It seems that patience and time will be the answer then. It is likely a good thing that your memories don’t all come flooding back in at once. That’s bound to be very painful, both physically and emotionally.”

The room collectively nodded at her words.

“Healer Grundke, could you show me the spell for this scan? It appears that the grey orb is Y/N’s memories of Sirius, and when she tried to recall her memory with me in school, it went to this orange orb. I think we’d be able to help her with some memories if we understood more how they were being organized.” Lily asked.

The healer stared at Lily for a long moment. “It would be my pleasure, dear.” She took a few minutes to show Lily who practiced the incantation over James’ head. “You know, after this war, you’d have quite the career as a healer.”

Lily’s face lit up to the colour of her hair as she stared abashedly at the healer. “Thank you, healer Grundke, that’s quite a compliment.”

The healer smiled kindly at Lily and patted her shoulder, “You give me a call when you’d like to chat more.”

The adults shared some goodbyes as the healer wished you a speedy recovery and Harry babbled absolute nonsense with his slobbery fist waving at everyone.

“Y/N, I owe you one hell of an apology.” James started once Sirius returned from escorting the healer back to St. Mungo's. “Actually, I owe you many apologies, but I want to start with how I treated you this morning.”

Sirius, who was still feeling petulant over the matter, scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. You, on the other hand – the beautiful angel that you are – smiled kindly at your friend despite Sirius’ demeanour.

“That’s alright, James. I don’t think I’d trust myself much either.” You looked back down at your hands. “Someone who’s been held by Death Eaters shows up unannounced and conveniently can’t remember a thing? That’s not suspicious at all.” You laughed wryly.

James seemed appeased by your words, but Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s you babe, you’re not suspicious.”

You looked at Sirius very intensely before responding. “But how much of me is left here, Sirius? Do you recognize me? The person I was?”

Sirius stuttered. “Well, yeah. I mean, love, you’re still in there.”

You grimaced and returned your glance to your hands.

“Who is someone without their memories? Their experiences? Those things make a person. I’m nothing more than a shell.” You admitted quietly.

“Oh, honey.” Lily said as she walked back into the room, having put Harry down for a nap. “You haven’t forgotten everything, just us.” You laughed at the deprecation. “And we’re not gone completely, see?” She paused as she pulled your scan back up. She pointed at the orange orb. “There’s me, and there’s this oaf.” She pointed at the grey orb as she nodded towards Sirius who scoffed.

“And tell me, do you remember when James convinced you to set Snape’s robes on fire in 5th year?” She asked and watched as a light travelled towards a red orb before splintering. “See, right here, there’s James!”

“Did I really light his robes on fire?” You asked quietly, looking at James.

“You sure did beautiful; I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of anyone ever in my entire life. Until the day Lily gave birth to our pride and joy of course, but that day still remains a very close second.” He proclaimed. Sirius chuckled and Lily rolled her eyes.

“See? We’re still in there, and we still make up quite a significant portion of your mind, which makes you, you. You’re still here, and we’ll help you get it all back.” Lily finished.

You smiled at your friend with a loving gaze, and Sirius already felt a step closer to the you that had been buried – literally - this past year.

“Were you really with Death Eaters the whole time you’ve been gone?” Sirius asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Surprisingly, your scan flashed violently, and lights travelled toward two orbs – one black and one green – on the opposite side of the scan. “Yes, I was kept mostly at the Lestrange Manor.” You admitted.

Sirius shuddered. His bat-shit crazy cousin, her husband and her brother-in-law were not ideal hosts for even an afternoon tea, let alone for the past few months.

“You had allies?” Lily whispered, eyes not moving from the green and black orbs on her scan.

“Allies? With Death Eaters?” James asked incredulously.

“James.” Sirius warned, putting his arm behind you protectively.

“James, don’t start.” Lily added. “Look, she’s alive which is more than any of us ever expected. That is thanks to someone, seeing as she had life-ending injuries the last anyone saw her. Plus, I don’t remember her being well-versed in occlumency while she fought with the Order, do you?” She asked the two men who both shook their heads.

“No, so that means, someone taught her. Someone knew she had people to protect and then they helped her do so.” She added and watched again as lights travelled to the two orbs before fizzing out.

Sirius looked over at you as you rubbed none-to-gently at your temples. He leaned into you and placed his forehead against your shoulder.

“Why don’t we call it a day, hm?” He asked as he drew circles against your back. He could feel you nod your ascent.

“Dumbledore called an Order meeting tonight, five o’clock.” James reminded the room. “Gives you guys about three hours for a nap.”

“That might be good, yeah? You can see everyone again, maybe it’ll help jog your memory.” Lily offered and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah.” You breathed out without looking up.

“Okay, that’s it. You two, out.” Sirius said pointed at Lily and James. “It’s nap time for Princess here.”

“’M not a princess.” You muttered causing Lily and James to chuckle.

“Who said I was talking about you, gorgeous? Now out, out!” He quite literally shooed the other two adults out of the room (in their own house, mind you) and closed the door behind them. He turned to face you as you sat on the bed looking at him with a cheeky smile.

“What’s that look for?” He asked as innocently as Sirius Black could manage.

“If you wanted a nap so bad, you could have just said so Princess.” You said, smirking at him.

“I have no shame; I’m willing to admit I am a Princess and would love a nap.” He peeled his jumper off and watched as you moved up to the head of the bed and laid down on the right side. Sirius felt a crack in his chest at the sight of you curled up there; that was the side of the bed you always took when you moved in together. Without thinking, Sirius shifted into Padfoot and leapt onto the bed, curling up on the opposite side. He was startled by a sharp laugh.

“No way.”

Padfoot turned to you and tilted his head.

“I remember Padfoot.” You said. The large black dog could feel both of his ears pop up as he let out a whine. Remembers. Remembers good dog.

“He was always such a pain in my ass.” You muttered with a smirk as you pulled the throw blanket over your body. Padfoot’s chest rumbled, am not pain, am good dog. You heard what could only be described as a doggy scoff as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Continue to part three here.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy Horror, Unhinged Husbands, Emotional Chaos, Desperation, Chasing the Uncatchable, Cursed Relationships, Polyamory Drama, Sorcery Meets Reality. Major Content Warnings: Graphic depictions of distress (physical and emotional), mentions of stalking behaviors, power imbalances, body horror (pregnancy), intense angst. Other Warnings: Crack moments in otherwise serious situations, manipulative tendencies, morally gray characters.

A/N: My Christmas gift to you ≧◠‿◠≦✌ Let me just say: I’m not sorry for the emotional rollercoaster you’re about to board. The safety harness? It’s Gojo/Nanami brand of dysfunction. Prepare yourselves for sorcery-fueled absurdity, body horror vibes, and enough angst to fill an Infinity Room. Also, if you’ve ever wanted to see Gojo wrestle with drunk Norwegian women or Nanami quietly descend into bread-obsessed madness, you’re in the right place. Buckle up. And yes, you’re allowed to throw virtual tomatoes at me in the comments.

Previous Chapter 3 - Corporate Warfare: Protocol The Circus of Two (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 4 - The Gravity of Running

But no one could outrun Gojo Satoru and Nanami Kento.

Denmark was off the table. Nanami knew you’d never hide in his ancestral grandmaland, so they aimed for Norway instead—specifically, a place you’d once mentioned wanting to visit.

This brilliant deduction led to their current predicament: boarding Gojo’s private jet at 2 a.m. for a 12-hour flight to Oslo.

Gojo had his tousled white hair peeking out from beneath his hood, the fabric of his oversized hoodie hanging loosely over his broad shoulders and accentuating his athletic build. His sweatpants clung just enough to hint at the strength beneath. He wore photochromic, transparent-framed glasses .

Nanami, too, sported an oversized hoodie that draped comfortably over his muscular frame. His normal world green-tinted Cannin glasses rested casually on the bridge of his nose, just visible beneath his hood, while his hair fell softly around his forehead. Both men wore slightly baggy sweats, adding to their relaxed vibe.

The plane, Gojo’s luxurious Bombardier Global 7500 , gleamed with sleek leather seats, gold trim, a full kitchen and a bar so well stocked it could supply a frat house for weeks.

Unfortunately, none of it could save the two men from their current downward spiral as they tried to commit substance abuse to drown their feelings, but instead they were the stars of the most unhinged reality show no one asked for.

Hour 3:25 AM

The cabin was quiet except for the occasional hum of the engines and the steady clinking of utensils. Or it would have been quiet if Gojo wasn’t demolishing an entire cart’s worth of desserts.

“Where do you think she is?” Gojo asked.

Nanami, five glasses of scotch deep, stared at him. “Maybe she’s on a beach. With a book. No loud idiots.”

Gojo gasped. “Are you calling me a loud idiot? I’m your husband, Nanami. Respect the bond, or I’ll bend you right here and add you to the mile-high club.”

Nanami didn’t flinch. “Respect the bond? You mean the one where I tolerate your endless noise? Bend me, and I’ll file for divorce the second we land. Along with a restraining order.”

“Then I’ll levitate you forever and do that thing you like,” Gojo waved his fork. “But I’ll forgive you because I’m a generous fairy like that.”

The plane jolted with turbulence, and Gojo clutched his dessert tray.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice softer now, “she left because we took her for granted.”

Nanami paused, then sighed. “Maybe it’s because you ate her last imported chocolates.”

Gojo gasped, clutching his hoodie. “You swore you’d never bring that up again!”

Nanami drained the rest of his scotch, gesturing to the flight attendant for another. “It was mutiny.”

Gojo teased again. “You know, if we don’t find her, I’m just gonna move into your apartment. I call the big bed.”

Nanami groaned, closing his eyes; Gojo had forced him to sell that apartment ages ago because he was worried Nanami would run away. “Go to sleep, Gojo.”

“You go to sleep,” Gojo retorted, his words slurring as his head lolled from all the sugar.

Hour 4:10 AM

“I’m stress eating,” Gojo declared, stuffing a tiramisu into his mouth. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Nanami glared at him over the rim of his scotch glass; it was his 8th or 18th—who knew anymore. “You’ve eaten everything except the in-flight magazines.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Gojo said, mouthful of frosting.

The flight attendant approached cautiously. “Sir, we’ve run out of desserts. Perhaps—”

Gojo's ripped off his glasses. She jumped. His radioactive eyes seemed to bore into her very soul, like a genetically mutant from the Umbrella Corps lab, struggling to comprehend the mundane world beyond the confines of his oversized hood. “What do you mean, run out? There’s a whole Gojo Clan dessert inventory on this flight!”

She blinked. “Sir, that’s… not meant for passengers. That was a gift, as you declared earlier.”

“Guess what?” He said. “They mine now.” Holding his own desserts hostage.

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should’ve left you in Tokyo.”

“You couldn’t have,” Gojo said smugly, shoving mousse in his mouth. “I’m the sugar to your bitter.”

Nanami’s reply was drowned out by turbulence, which sent his scotch splashing onto his lap. He sighed, leaning back into his seat. “I should’ve ordered vodka.”

“Don’t blame the scotch for your crotch crisis,” Gojo quipped, taking a swig of Nanami’s drink before he could stop him.

The turbulence worsened, and the cabin lights flickered. Gojo glanced at Nanami, his grin weak. “Do you think this is a sign?”

“A sign of what?” Nanami deadpanned, swirling his next glass of scotch.

“That we’re bad husbands.”

Nanami froze. “You’re just now realizing that?”

Gojo slumped against his seat. “I mean, yeah, but I’m trying. I even brought dessert for her!”

“You are inhaling all the dessert.”

The turbulence jostled them again, and this time, Nanami spilled a bit of his drink on Gojo’s sleeve.

“You know,” Gojo started, wiping at the stain, “if this plane goes down, at least I’ll die with a tummy full of cake and regret.”

“Good,” Nanami muttered. “Because if we survive this flight, I’m leaving you in Norway.”

“You say that, but then show up like Batman when you think I’m in danger,” Gojo smirked, leaning closer.

Nanami didn’t respond. He’d fallen asleep, the glass still in his hand.

Gojo blinked, nudging him lightly. “ Min min ?”

Nanami stirred, mumbling something unintelligible before straightening abruptly. “What did I miss?”

Gojo grinned. “Just turbulence. And the shocking revelation that beneath that muscle mass, you’re really just a big softie who’d probably cry at a frog video.”

Nanami muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “I married the frog.” Gojo smirked, satisfied.

Hour 5:15 AM

Gojo now sat manspreading with a tower of dessert plates now teetering on the tray in front of him. He bit into a chocolate tart with the energy of a man trying to solve world hunger through sheer caloric intake. “You know if we don’t find her, I’m just gonna eat my feelings forever. This is who I am now. The Dessert Man .”

Nanami was now sitting hunched over a plate piled high with an assortment of bread—baguettes, croissants, ciabatta, even a slice of pumpernickel he was aggressively buttering. “You can’t eat your feelings. It’s not sustainable.”

“Says the man eating enough bread to open a bakery,” Gojo waved a forkful of tiramisu at him.

Nanami tore into a white chocolate-stuffed croissant like it owed him a kidney. “Bread is practical. Dessert is diabetes.”

“Bread is boring,” Gojo said. “You’re boring. This is why she left us.”

Nanami's jaw froze mid-bite, lips glistening with garlic butter, his regular human world glasses sliding. "She bailed because you can't keep your mouth shut for five seconds, and you eat like a raccoon on a trash binge—minus the charm and coordination."

Gojo gasped. “How dare you? I dine with the flair of a royal peacock!”

Nanami grabbed a slice of rye and spread a thick layer of cream cheese on it. “I’m starting to think we deserved this.”

“Excuse me,” Gojo snapped, licking frosting off his fingers. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be the stable, boring one. Why are you spiraling?”

Nanami waved a baguette at him like a baton. “Because I’m married to you. That’s reason enough.”

Gojo squinted at him, then burst out laughing, crumbs flying into Nanami’s face. “You love me, Ken Ken. Just admit it.”

Nanami wiped his face but smeared more butter on it. “I love silence more.”

Nanami shoved a Swiss roll in Gojo’s mouth before he could retort, and they continued their loop of stress eating and drinking, only to spontaneously doze off mid-bites. The silence was punctuated by the occasional jolt of turbulence that sent them both jolting awake, looking like startled deer.

Hour 7:05 AM

Gojo slurred, about to go into a sugar-induced coma. “ Nono.” He tried to get Nanami’s attention by nudging him but used too much force and ended up pushing him into the window. “Do you...” Hiccup . “Do you think… do you think she’s cold? Like, colder than me?”

Nanami sipped his Flamingo Fizz—the same drink he’d mocked Gojo for years ago, now guzzled from a bottle he’d bullied the flight attendant into making. His face was a strange mix of tipsy philosopher and bread-obsessed gremlin. “You’re not cold,” he muttered, voice rasping like a tired kazoo. “You’re… a heat urchin.” Yes, that was definitely the word.

Gojo squinted at him, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

Gojo’s fork clattered to the floor. He leaned down to grab it, only to lose his balance and end up sprawled across the carpet. “HELP. MAN DOWN.”

Nanami continued sipping. “No.”

“Some husband you are,” Gojo grumbled, hauling himself back into his seat. “Do you think she’s laughing at us right now? Like, somewhere out there, she’s probably sitting by a fire, drinking tea, and laughing because we’re a mess.”

Nanami took a contemplative bite of sourdough. “We are a mess,” he said finally. “But we’re her mess.”

Gojo nodded sagely, his head bobbing as his eyes started to droop. “Yeah… her mess…” His voice trailed off as he slumped forward, face landing squarely in a half-eaten pie.

Nanami stared at him, unimpressed, before his own head began to droop. “We’ll… we’ll find her…” he mumbled, falling asleep mid-sentence with a Vienna bread still clutched in his hand.

A flight attendant sighed from the galley, his arms crossed. “Do they ever act normal?”

His coworker, balancing a tray of more desserts, snorted. “Normal? These two? One’s eaten 75% of the dessert inventory, and the other’s chugging alcohol like it’s a juice box. I walked in earlier, and the white-haired one was trying to shotgun a whole party cake.”

“And the bread guy?”

“Won’t stop asking for ‘just one more roll.’ I swear he’s got a bread tower going over there.”

The first attendant peeked out from behind the curtain, eyebrows shooting up at the sight of Nanami’s precariously balanced bread pyramid. “Oh my god. Is he using butter and cheese as glue?”

The plane jolted again, and Gojo startled awake, lifting his head from the pie with frosting smeared across his face. “TURBULENCE. WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!”

Nanami jerked awake. “Where’s the fire?” he mumbled, blinking blearily.

The attendants sighed.

Gojo leaned over to Nanami, his voice conspiratorial. “Do you think they’re judging us?”

“They’re absolutely judging us,” Nanami replied, grabbing another slice of Pane di Altamura and slathering it with butter.

Gojo sighed, grabbing another pudding. “Whatever. At least we’re rich.”

The two clinked their glass and bottle—Nanami’s now filled with an experimental cocktail of pink flamingo and butter. The plane hit another patch of turbulence, and they both tipped sideways, slurring incoherent nonsense as they fell back asleep mid-toast.

When the plane hit another bump, it was a sight to behold: Gojo was snoring with his face buried in Nanami’s armpit above his hoodie while Nanami was sliding off the seat in his sleep.

Hour—Sometime Closer to Landing

"Do you think we should stop them?" one attendant asked, glancing out to see Nanami trying—and failing—to balance his entire drink tray on his head while simultaneously attempting to perform a kickflip in his seat. Gojo, in his infinite wisdom, had decided the best way to contribute to the moment was to start an impromptu squillo routine, swinging his hands around in wide arcs.

Hour—Sometime even more closer to landing

Gojo, now completely oblivious to the fact that he had frosting lodged in his hair and across his face, had his one leg draped over a dessert tray like a cat who had just been fed his weight in treats. He was stuffing his mouth with the same grace as a baby who needed to be fed by telling it, ‘ Here comes the chu-chu train .’

I still don’t get it,” Gojo muttered between bites. “She just... left. No fight. No warning. Just poof! Abracadabra! Bam! Disappeared like a fart in the wind. Not very demure.” Burp . “Is it because I’m too much? We were good , right? Like, we were normal before, I swear. I mean, I’m the best, right? You'd agree. She just... couldn’t handle the heat, Nanami. It was too hot for her.”

The smell of butter and booze mingled in the air around Nanami like some cursed scent. He squinted at Gojo like he was analyzing the deep mysteries of the universe. "She didn’t leave because we were bad... She left because... because she had to escape the heat . You’re like a…” He paused, trying to understand the magnitude of his own wisdom. “You know... one of those little things that explode if you get too close.”

Gojo blinked, his head tilting back as if he was hearing the meaning of life. “Yeah. I’m explosive and damn hot.”

Nanami sighed. "I'm cold." He tore another chunk of bread. "And. Calculated. I don't break."

Gojo waved his dessert-sticky hands around like a windmill. "Calculated, my ass! You can't even calculate the right amount of butter on your bread! It’s obscene!"

An attendant peeked through the crack in the curtain. “I swear to God, five minutes ago one of them was chugging straight from the chocolate fountain.”

Nanami suddenly snapped to attention from his dozing off. “You think you’re better than me, huh?”

Gojo paused. “Better than you?” He was so full of smugness it could rival his domain. "Please. Wanna fight?”

At that precise moment, Gojo’s fingers twitched—almost involuntarily—as if something had triggered an electric shock in his brain. “Too late!” He snapped his fingers, and a flurry of tiramisu and macarons levitated into the air. He started to fall back asleep mid-fight.

“Don’t do it, Gojo," Nanami grumbled, his cursed energy shifting as his technique began to hum to life. The very air around him seemed to shimmer.

Gojo suddenly woke up with a snort. “Wait! Nanami, don’t—DON’T use that technique!”

But it was too late. Nanami, with the precision of a drunk surgeon, unleashed his Domain Expansion. The golden grid of perfect symmetry expanded around them, snapping with the weight of its own force. Gojo’s whiskey glass rattled against the table, the precise balance of the universe shifting under Nanami’s power.

Gojo’s eyes sparkled in drunken delight. “Nice try, buddy,” he slurred, twisting his fingers. “But I’m Infinity-ing your fractured space.”

Reality itself seemed to bend as Gojo’s domain erupted. Nanami’s grid of perfect balance twisted like a rubber band as the two domains collided—whiskey, pastries, and bread flying through the entire cabin.

The flight attendants sighed, having worked for the Gojo clan; they were used to it.

It was a miracle the two men were only unleashing their domains in low volume because one had decided it would ‘ scorch the bread.’

The jet hit another bump, sending the two sorcerers toppling sideways. Nanami slid off his seat, clutching his bottle of Flamingo Fizz, his last connection to sanity.

Gojo, however, had less dignity—he landed face-first in Nanami’s ass. That was the moment Gojo decided to blow raspberries in the curve.

Nanami crawled away in disgust, scowling.

Hidden behind the curtain, one flight attendant whispered, “This is why I drink.”

“I’m switching careers,” the other deadpanned, ducking as a baguette flew past.

“Take me with you,” the other replied, watching Gojo snore, holding Nanami’s leg like a dog that won’t leave you alone.

The other rolled her eyes. “I don’t even care anymore. Let them wreck the plane. It’s probably still safer than their relationship.”

Hour—God knows when, time had lost all meaning.

The plane jolted, sending a plate of half-eaten sweet bread skittering across the tray table. Gojo snatched it mid-slide with the reflexes of a man who valued carbs more than common sense.

“She used to help us get along nicely. You know,” he said, “now I think food is the only thing holding our marriage together.”

Nanami didn’t even look up. “Yes, you are insufferable.”

Gojo gasped, clutching his hoodie. “How dare you? I’m the heart of this marriage!” He stood. “Without me, it’s just... silence.”

“Which is exactly what I want,” Nanami muttered, tearing into a Bâtard.

The plane jolted, sending Gojo sprawling onto Nanami’s bread tower. “Help me, Husbando!” Gojo yelled, his face buried in baguettes.

Nanami stared at him, unimpressed. “Get off my bread.”

“Never,” Gojo mumbled, making himself comfortable.

Nanami grabbed a croissant and lobbed it at Gojo’s head. Gojo’s Infinity shimmered faintly, stopping the pastry midair. He plucked it out of the air, looking scandalized. “Did you just throw bread at me?”

“You deserved it,” Nanami took a slow sip.

Gojo looked genuinely offended. “This is assault. I’m calling an adult.”

“You are an adult,” Nanami deadpanned.

“Exactly!” Gojo threw the croissant back, but it was cut down by Nanami’s ratio blades without him even moving a finger.

Meanwhile, in the galley, the flight attendants huddled near the coffee machine, whispering.

“Fifty bucks says the blond one passes out first,” one said.

“No way. The white-haired one’s been on a sugar binge since he got on. He’s going down any minute,” another replied, scribbling names on a napkin.

“What if they both pass out at the same time?”

“Then we split the pot.”

Their quiet betting was interrupted by Gojo’s yelling from the cabin. “I’ve secured the snacks. Nanami, don’t touch them unless you want to face my void!”

“After I gave you my cinnamon roll?” Nanami looked heartbroken, making Gojo immediately hold him close.

The flight attendants stared, slack-jawed, as a tray of éclairs hovered ominously above the men’s heads.

“I quit,” one of them muttered, turning toward the coffee machine.

“Is it too late to call in sick?” one whispered, watching Gojo suddenly serenade Nanami.

The other shrugged. “After this flight, I’m switching to cargo planes. No snacks, no drama.”

Soon both men were passed out—Gojo with his face sideways in another bowl of mochi ice cream, Nanami clutching a half-eaten yakisoba pan like a teddy bear, half his face covered with his hoodie—two special-grade sorcerers, completely obliterated by their own no-thoughts-smooth-brain-moment , battling the forces of reality itself over petty arguments and a missing wife.

Hour—Landing

The private jet rolled to a smooth stop on the Oslo runway. Both men were in deep sleep, but their cursed techniques were very much awake—and making life difficult for everyone else.

“Why are we even trying?” one of the male flight attendants muttered, eyeing the flickering crackle of Gojo’s Infinity with trepidation. The other gestured at Nanami, whose Ratio Blades hovered ominously near his hands, ready to slice anything that got too close.

The pilot shook his head. “I’m not touching that. Send the women.”

“What?!” the female flight attendants chorused, glaring at their male colleagues, who were now firmly rooted behind the safety of the galley door.

“Just... poke them gently,” one of the men offered.

“Poke them? With what? A ten-foot pole?”

Eventually, after a heated debate, one brave flight attendant inched toward the slumbering sorcerers with a dessert fork in hand. She extended it toward Gojo like a knight wielding a sword. “Sir?” she ventured cautiously, tapping his shoulder.

Gojo’s Infinity flared, sending a startling ripple of energy through the air. “Not the desserts!” he stirred, still asleep, drooling over Nanami’s stomach.

The attendant stumbled back, glancing desperately at her colleagues. He was plain untouchable—so unwakeable by default.

Nanami's hand clutched Gojo’s head closer like it was his phantom pregnant belly. “Ahh, bread,” he muttered with a sleepy smile.

The attendant then aimed her fork towards him with misplaced courage and dared to tap his arm.

The fork never made it.

Ten centimeters from his skin, it disintegrated into metallic confetti as Ratio Blades snapped into existence, their glowing edges then stretched further, humming ominously like murder was their sole purpose in life. The attendant squeaked, leaping back as if she’d narrowly escaped being diced into human sashimi.

“Forget it,” she hissed. “We’re calling ground security.”

Before anyone could escalate, one attendant clapped her hands loudly. “Gentlemen, we’ve landed, and there’s fresh bread waiting outside!”

Nanami’s eyes snapped open immediately. “Bread?”

Gojo stirred, wiping drool from his mouth. “Is it sweet bread?”

The attendants exchanged relieved looks as the men groaned, stretched, and finally shuffled off the plane.

-

The drive to Nanami’s grandmother’s house was quiet, save for Gojo humming and fiddling with the car’s radio. Nanami stared out the window, mentally bracing himself.

Nanami didn’t want to do this. Not because he was afraid of his grandmother’s cousin—a retired army woman with an intimidating poker face and a propensity for offering unsolicited life advice—but because he knew bringing Gojo anywhere was like handing a toddler a live grenade.

They arrived at a modest but sturdy home surrounded by a well-kept garden. Before Nanami could knock, the door swung open.

“Kento?” The woman standing in the doorway was tall and broad-shouldered, her silver hair tied back into a no-nonsense bun. She looked them over, her sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly. “And who is this... tall man?”

Gojo offered a hand, leaning into her personal space like a golden retriever. “I’m Gojo Satoru! The better-looking husband.”

She ignored the hand, crossing her arms. “Husband?” Her gaze shifted to Nanami. “And you didn’t think to warn me about this?”

Gojo grinned wider. “Oh, didn’t Kento tell you? He’s married to me and someone else. Polyamory is very in right now.”

The woman stared at Nanami like he’d just announced he was defecting to Mars. “I didn’t even know you were married, let alone to two people.”

Nanami sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure it is,” she said, stepping aside to let them in.

The interior of the house was as orderly as the woman herself. Gojo immediately flopped onto the couch, his long legs sprawled out.

“Shoes off,” she barked.

Gojo froze, then scrambled to comply, grinning sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Nanami stood stiffly by the door, unsure where to begin. “We’re here to look for our wife.”

“Your wife?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nanami nodded, ignoring Gojo’s delighted “Yes.”

The older woman’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something—amusement? Annoyance? “You can stay here.”

Gojo’s grin widened. “Thanks, Grandma! You’re the best.”

“I’m not your grandmother,” she replied curtly, already walking toward the kitchen.

Gojo leaned toward Nanami, whispering loudly, “She likes me. I can tell.”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please behave.”

“Define ‘behave,’” Gojo said, kicking off his socks and reclining on the couch.

From the kitchen, her voice rang out. “If he puts his feet on my furniture, I’ll break them.”

Gojo immediately sat up. “Point taken.”

Once she was pouring tea for them, Gojo asked. “So, when Kento was little, did he always have that stick-up-his-butt attitude, or was it a recent development?”

Nanami’s grip on his teacup tightened dangerously. “Satoru!” For the first time he was less worried about Gojo and more worried about what his grandmother would say.

“Oh, he used to be sunshine,” the woman said, her voice dry. “Good in studies and arts. Not many friends, but was still cheerful. Developed discipline when he became a teenager.” She said the last part eyeing Gojo.

“Called it,” Gojo said smugly.

“Though I didn’t expect him to marry someone so… loud.”

Nanami sighed heavily. “We’re not here for this. We’re here to look for our wife.”

“You’ve mentioned misplacing your other spouse,” the woman said, her tone sharp.

Nanami sighed. “She’s not misplaced. We’re searching for her.”

Gojo perked up, leaning forward. “She’s smart, kind, gorgeous—like me.”

The woman looked at Gojo, her expression unreadable. “Good for her, but if she’s avoiding you, I can’t say I blame her.”

Later that night, Nanami stood outside, the cold Norwegian air biting at his skin. He stared out at the dark forest beyond the house, his jaw tight.

Gojo had followed Nanami, hands stuffed in his pockets. “You think she’s okay?”

Nanami’s chest ached with guilt and heavy regret. “I don’t know. But we’ll find her.”

Gojo’s voice was bittersweet. “Yeah. We will.”

Then, because Gojo couldn’t leave a moment untouched, he added, “And when we do, she’s going to yell at you first. You know that, right?”

Nanami sighed, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll take it.”

-

You had thanked Higuruma for showing up when he did; he had always been a great mentor to you during your time at university. You lost contact with him after he completed his master's and left to go back to Japan while you were just starting your second year. It wasn’t until you moved to Japan and added him to your company’s retainer that you reconnected. It was an added bonus that he was now a jujutsu sorcerer, which had come in handy for you at the perfect moment. Haibara had held them off nicely. He was ex-MI6 and had been introduced to you by Megumi’s father a long time ago.

But the second time, it was worse.

You spotted him first—Nanami, tall, composed, his eyes scanning the crowd like he was searching for something he knew he had lost. Your heart stopped; a cold shiver ran down your spine.

You ducked into an alley, clutching your coat tightly around your stomach. The pain was an immediate, sharp throb that made your breath hitch. The twins were active now. The feeling of their movements inside you, sharp, like claws raking at your insides, as if they were fighting to escape.

You pressed your hand into the wall of the alley, trying to steady your breath. Your other fingers dug into your coat, but it didn’t help. The air felt suffocating. You couldn’t stop shaking. You couldn’t stop thinking about them, about him.

You slipped past the alley into side streets, desperately trying to lose him. The pain inside you was unbearable—each movement, each step, felt like it might tear you apart. But you couldn’t stop. You had to get away.

You could feel him getting closer. He was a shadow that clung to your every move, like he was always just a breath away from finding you. And the worst part was, you knew he would. Eventually, they would find you.

Too bad you couldn’t get the same security team you had hired for your company because they did not specialize in the world's literal strongest sorcerers, or so you had always thought. You had only been able to dominate that fight because they were not using their cursed techniques; if they had, no one would have stood a chance against the both of them.

Besides, the security detail would draw too much attention in this country, and you were living without any form of bare minimum luxury just to keep your head low.

Then the third time, you weren’t so lucky.

It was an evening when the sense of unease crept up on you. You were walking to the pharmacy  because your pregnancy pain made you run out of medicines fast. You were trying to blend into the crowd of Tromsø, Norway, hoping that today would be different. Maybe you could make it through without feeling like you were being hunted.

But the air shifted, like a subtle warning. Your hand instinctively went to your stomach, feeling the familiar pressure of the twins inside you, their presence both comforting and terrifying.

You looked around. Nothing. The street was crowded, the world moving too fast for anyone to notice you. Yet, something wasn’t right.

And then you saw him.

Gojo.

He was lounging at a café near the entrance of the store, looking completely at ease, as if he hadn’t been searching for you for months. His long legs stretched out under the table, his sunglasses glinting in the aurora borealis high in the sky. He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular—until his gaze locked onto you.

You froze.

It wasn’t a simple glance. He saw you even though you were covered in an absurdly oversized coat, beanie and mask. His eyes were trained on you. You could feel the weight of his gaze like a sniper locking in.

“Sweetheart,” he mouthed from the distance, his features smooth, taunting, and way too familiar.

His grin was there, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Those eyes, even behind the tinted lenses, felt like they were cutting through you, dissecting you. It was the same grin he used to give you when he thought he had you cornered, when he was in control. And now, he was. He knew it, and he wanted to enjoy it.

The cold, calculating way he said it—like he’d been waiting for this moment, like he had all the time in the world—it made your stomach turn. You could feel the weight of the moment, the slow burn of realization creeping over you. He had found you.

You had been momentarily frozen, but you didn’t wait. You didn’t hesitate. The second he stood up, you turned and ran.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as your feet pounded the pavement, but no matter how fast you moved, the fear gnawed at you, making your limbs feel like lead. The city blurred around you, a dizzying whirl of colors and sounds, but you could still feel his presence—close, like a shadow following you, getting nearer with every step.

“Sweetheart!” His voice rang out again, a command, not a plea.

You could hear the faintest trace of amusement in his tone, but underneath it, there was something darker. It was as if he was enjoying this chase, enjoying the fear he was instilling in you.

You ran faster, but the air around you felt suffocating. It was like the world was shrinking, like every step you took was pulling you closer to him, not further away. Your breath came in sharp gasps, and you could feel the twins inside you, their frantic movements mirroring your panic. It was almost like they could sense the danger too.

You pushed yourself harder, but it was no use. You knew it.

Gojo wasn’t just a man; he was a god, something you couldn’t outrun.

His laughter reached you, soft but dangerous, and you could almost hear the smugness in his voice. He wasn’t out of breath. He wasn’t struggling.

You were.

“I told you,” he yelled, his voice smooth like velvet but laced with something more sinister. “You can’t hide from me.”

And you realized then—he was toying with you. He knew you couldn’t escape. He knew that you were trapped in this game, and no matter how fast you ran, he would always be one step behind, waiting for you to make the wrong move.

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. But deep down, you knew the truth.

He would catch you.

Just then, salvation appeared in the most unexpected form.

A group of loud, drunk college girls stumbled onto the road from a bar, their laughter echoing like a wall of sound. They moved in a chaotic huddle, arms slung around each other, bottles in hand, their energy radiating like static electricity.

You squeezed yourself between them, moving further into their huddle, trying to hide your face more so that no one would recognize you. Little did you know the girls had noticed you already and made a decision.

Gojo, in his desperation to catch up, didn’t notice them until it was too late.

“Move,” he snapped, his usual charm stripped away by the urgency in his voice. He sidestepped the first girl, but then another turned, and before he could react, the entire group swarmed him like a pack of wolves. A few of them, oddly enough, taller than Gojo.

“Hva gjør du?” One of them slurred, narrowing her eyes at him. (“What are you doing?”)

“Er han etter noen?” another asked, her tone suspicious. (“Is he after someone?”)

Gojo blinked, caught off guard by the unfamiliar language. “What?” he barked, his gaze darting over their heads, desperately trying to catch sight of you.

The tallest girl leaned closer, her face flushed from alcohol, and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Hvem jager du, hæ?” (“Who are you chasing, huh?”)

“I don’t know what you’re saying!” Gojo snapped, frustration lacing his tone. “I don’t speak—whatever that is!”

They giggled, but it wasn’t friendly. It was mocking, deliberately dragging out the moment, their chatter growing louder, each word a dagger aimed at his composure. They knew he wasn’t local when they had known English; they just wanted to piss him off.

“Han ser ut som en stalker!” (“He looks like a stalker!”)

Gojo’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists. He knew what the word stalker meant, a bitter accusation that stung more than he cared to admit. He was not a stalker; he was a protector, and he would do whatever it took to find you.

He glanced over their heads again, scanning for you, but you were gone. His heart raced, a mixture of panic and anger bubbling under his skin. “Move,” he growled, his easygoing demeanor cracking under the weight of his mounting frustration.

“Hva om vi ikke vil?” One of them said, crossing her muscular arms defiantly. (“What if we don’t want to?”) The challenge in her voice only fueled his irritation.

“You think this is a game?” His voice low and dangerous. “I’m not here to play nice. I’m looking for someone, and you’re in my way.”

The girls exchanged glances, their laughter fading slightly, but the defiance remained. Gojo could feel the tension in the air, thick and charged, as he fought to keep his composure.

Meanwhile, you had ducked into an alley; you needed to catch your breath. The twins restless movements inside you a reminder of why you couldn’t afford to stop.

“Here,” a voice said, startling you.

You turned to see one of the girls from the group—her hair a mess of blonde waves, her cheeks rosy from the cold and alcohol. She held out a large overcoat and a knitted muffler, her expression soft and kind.

“You need to go,” she said, her English heavily accented but clear enough. “Take this.”

You hesitated, your lips parting to protest, but she shook her head firmly and draped the coat over your shoulders. The weight of it was grounding, the warmth immediate.

“Thank you,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes as you wrapped the muffler around your neck.

She smiled, her hand briefly brushing your arm. “Gå nå,” she urged, her voice gentle but insistent. (“Go now.”)

You nodded and slipped into the shadows, blending into the cityscape. You had never been more grateful for a stranger in your entire life.

//

“Let me go!” Gojo snapped, his voice cutting through the drunken laughter. His white hair messy, and his cool demeanor shattered. The girls only tightened their circle around him, their grins turning feral.

“Why are you chasing her?” One of them asked, her voice sharp and accusatory.

“I’m not—” Gojo started, surprised by their sudden English, but another cut him off, stepping forward. She was taller than him by at least a few inches even in her flip-flops, her gaze unflinching.

“She looked scared of you,” she spat, jabbing a finger in his face. “What kind of man chases a woman through the streets?”

“She’s my wife!” Gojo exclaimed, his hands raised in exasperation.

“Your wife?” another girl sneered, her eyebrows shooting up. “Sure, buddy. And I’m the queen of Norway.”

“Look, I’m serious!” He barked, trying to step around them, but one of the girls—easily as tall as him and broad-shouldered—blocked his path. “I need to find her.”

“Yeah, so you can terrify her more?” One of them yelled.

“She’s gravid, you creep!” another girl chimed in, her tone venomous. (“Pregnant”)

The tallest girl, clearly their ringleader, crossed her arms and smirked. “You know what? I think you’re a stalker. And I think someone needs to teach you a lesson.”

Before Gojo could register anything they were saying in their heavy accent, she lunged at him, throwing a sloppy but surprisingly powerful punch. He ducked, but another girl was already swinging a kick at him.

“What the hell?!” Gojo yelped, sidestepping her attack.

//

Nanami had been searching the area, his tie loose under his heavy overcoat and his patience wearing thin, when he heard the commotion. Turning a corner, he froze at the sight of Gojo fucking Satoru fending off a mob of angry, drunk women.

“I left him alone for five minutes.” He muttered under his breath, rubbing his temple. He moved closer, trying to make sense.

One of the girls, towering over even Nanami, had Gojo in a headlock while another was shouting, “Call the cops! He’s clearly unhinged!”

Gojo was really trying not to use his infinity and crush them, but that would draw too much attention, and they had already messed up big time with the fiasco at their wife’s company.

“Excuse me,” Nanami said, his voice calm but firm.

The ringleader turned to him, sizing him up with a skeptical look. “And who are you? Another stalker?”

“I’m his… umm… husband,” Nanami replied, adjusting his glasses. “We’re looking for someone important to us.”

“Oh, so it’s we now?” another girl sneered, stepping closer.

“She’s our wife,” Gojo groaned, his voice muffled as he struggled to free himself from the headlock.

The girls laughed, a mix of disbelief and derision.

“Both your wife?” One of them repeated, clutching her stomach. “What kind of messed-up polygamy cult is this?”

“She’s gravid!” another girl shouted, her face twisted with fury. “You’re chasing a gravid woman?” (“Pregnant”)

With Nanami’s Norwegian being rusty, neither of the men understood why you were being referred to by a man’s name.

“She ran away from us!” Gojo snapped, finally breaking free.

“Gee, I wonder why.” One of the taller girls quipped, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

//

From your house's window, a few blocks away, you watched the scene unfold. The muffler around your neck felt like a lifeline as you saw the two men you once loved now completely at the mercy of a group of MMA-trained sorority girls.

And for the first time in weeks, you smiled—a small, vindictive smile.

//

“Enough!” Gojo shouted. “She’s our wife. We’re not trying to hurt her; we’re trying to bring her back!”

The ringleader narrowed her eyes. “And you thought chasing her through the streets was the way to do it?”

“I wasn’t thinking, okay?” Gojo admitted, his voice breaking with frustration.

Nanami stepped forward, his expression weary but sincere. “She’s not safe on her own. We’re trying to protect her.”

“Yeah, sure,” One of the girls muttered, rolling her eyes.

“I’m calling the cops,” the tallest one announced, pulling out her phone.

“What? No, don’t—” Gojo started, but it was too late.

A few hours later, Gojo and Nanami sat in a cramped holding cell, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Gojo’s sunglasses were gone, his hair a mess, and his shirt torn at the collar. Nanami looked equally disheveled, his tie missing, his shirt wrinkled.

“This is your fault,” Nanami muttered, glaring at Gojo.

“My fault?” Gojo shot back. “You didn’t exactly help!”

Outside the cell, the girls were giving their statements to the police, their laughter echoing down the hallway.

“Polygamy,” one of them snorted. “Can you believe that? At least come up with a smarter lie.”

Gojo buried his face in his hands. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Nanami sighed, leaning back against the cold wall. “No, this is what we deserve.”

Around 45 mins later, the clanging of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Both men looked up as the officer unlocked the door, and in stepped Nanami’s grandmother, her sharp gaze cutting through.

She said nothing at first, her presence alone making both men sit up straighter.

“Out,” she ordered, her voice low and cold.

Gojo stood, his grin faltering under her glare. “Hi, Grandma. Long time no see—”

“Not. A. Word,” she snapped, and Gojo immediately closed his mouth, hands raised in surrender.

Nanami followed silently, the weight of impending doom heavier than any cursed spirit he’d ever faced.

The walk from the station to Nanami’s grandmother’s house was silent, save for the faint crunch of gravel beneath their feet. Gojo glanced sideways at Nanami, but his husband’s face was unreadable, a stoic mask that gave nothing away.

“Inside,” she said, opening the door. No pleasantries.

Gojo hesitated for half a second, then followed Nanami inside, his grin faltering under the weight of her gaze.

The house smelled of wood polish and faintly of coffee. The warmth of it didn’t extend to her tone as she turned sharply. “You,” she barked, pointing at Gojo. “Stay here.”

Gojo blinked, glancing at Nanami like a scolded puppy. “But—”

“Stay.” Her voice left no room for argument.

Nanami gave Gojo a small nod, his expression unreadable, before following her into the kitchen.

//

“Kento,” she started, her voice cutting through like a whip, “what were you thinking?”

Nanami stood straight. “Grandmother—”

“Marrying him?” She interrupted, her tone scathing. “You, used to say it yourself that man has no discipline. No restraint. He dragged you into jail, Kento. Jail. And that’s not even the worst of it.”

Nanami’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Her eyes narrowed, her voice lowering. “Do you know how humiliating this is? For you? For me? For your wife?”

Nanami stiffened, his gaze flickering.

“Yes,” she said, catching the subtle shift. “The one you abandoned for him.”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me,” she snapped, her voice harsh. “You ignored her for months, Kento. Both of you. And now she’s gone, and you’re chasing her like fools, destroying her reputation along the way. That mess in Tokyo? Her company? You think the internet hasn’t noticed?”

Nanami flinched as though her words had struck him physically.

“You didn’t tell me a thing,” she continued, her tone unrelenting. “About the chaos you and that man-child caused. Do you know what they’re calling her online? A failure. A joke. Because of you both.”

Nanami’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “That’s enough.”

She stepped closer, her eyes boring into his. “No, it’s not. That woman deserves better. Better than him. Better than this.”

Outside the kitchen, Gojo leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Her words filtered through the door, each one landing like a punch to the gut. His eyes hollow.

“I will not tolerate you defending him,” she continued, her voice sharp and unyielding. “He is reckless, selfish, and the reason you’re in this mess. Divorce him, Kento. Fix this. Settle with her. At least she might forgive you.”

Nanami’s voice was low, but firm. “You don’t know her. And you don’t know him.”

Her gaze hardened. “I know enough.”

Nanami stepped out of the kitchen, his movements stiff. He didn’t look at Gojo, didn’t say a word, just grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the door. He knew Gojo would have been hovering.

“Wait, Kento—” Gojo started, but Nanami’s grip tightened.

She followed them to the doorway, her expression a mask of cold disapproval. “You’ll regret this,” she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of certainty.

Gojo looked at her, his usual bravado flickering back to life, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks for the pep talk, Grandma.”

Her glare was icy. “Don’t call me that.”

“Noted,” he replied, forcing a smirk as he leaned closer to Nanami.

Nanami’s hand tightened around Gojo’s wrist, his steps brisk as he led them out into the cold night.

Gojo finally broke the silence. “She hates me.”

Nanami didn’t stop walking. “She doesn’t know you.”

Gojo chuckled, but it was bitter, lacking his usual warmth. “Maybe she’s right.”

Nanami slowed, his grip loosening slightly. “About what?”

Gojo hesitated, then shrugged. “About me being the reason for... everything.”

Nanami stopped, turning to face him. “It’s not just you. I’m too.”

Gojo searched his face, but Nanami’s expression was unreadable.

“Both of us messed up,” Nanami repeated, his voice quieter this time.

Gojo walked in silence after that, the distance between them feeling heavier than ever.

-

You couldn’t stay here anymore; you had to leave Norway if your kids were ever going to have a chance at life. Which led you to where you were right now.

The outside airport entrance, a cacophony of announcements, rolling suitcases, and hurried footsteps. You moved through it like a ghost, your oversized coat and scarf hiding the strain on your body. Every step felt like wading through water, your legs trembling under the unfamiliar weight of your own frame.

The twins shifted inside you, their restless movements like something alive and alien, pushing against your ribs, twisting your insides. You could feel it in your bones, in the way your skin stretched too tightly, in the way your breath came shallow and ragged.

You pressed a hand to your belly, trying to steady yourself, but it only made the unease worse.

“Just a little further,” you whispered to yourself, the words barely audible over the din of the airport.

But then you saw him. One of the only few people who used to come to drop your husbands off after missions.

Ijichi stood near the security checkpoint, his nervous energy unmistakable even from a distance. He wasn’t alone. Men in crisp suits hovered around the airport, their sharp eyes scanning the crowd.

Your heart sank.

You turned sharply, pulling your hood tighter, ducked your head and walked faster, weaving through the crowd. The pressure in your abdomen tightened, the twins reacting to your rising panic.

By the time you reached the cab stop, you were gasping for air, your body rebelling against the strain. The cold Norwegian air hit your face like a slap, but it did nothing to cool the heat crawling up your spine.

They were everywhere. The Gojo Clan had blanketed the airports—and probably train stations and highways too—like a net, waiting to trap you the moment you made a wrong move.

You didn’t have a chance.

You sighed and got into a cab to head back to your apartment. You’d just stay inside and never go out, getting everything ordered.

Your legs ached, your swollen feet screaming. The twins kicked and twisted, their movements erratic and relentless, like they were fighting each other for space.

Your scarf slipped, and you tugged it back up, the fabric rough against your flushed skin. Every breath felt heavier, your chest tight, your throat dry.

By the time you reached your apartment, you were shaking. You fumbled with the keys, your fingers numb, and stumbled inside. The door closed behind you with a hollow thud.

You dropped your bag and leaned against the wall, sliding down with the support of the shoe rack, until you were sitting on the floor. Your hands pressed against your belly, trying to soothe the inside, but it was futile.

The twins kicked harder, the sharp jabs making you wince. Your stomach felt too full, too stretched, the weight of them pressing down on everything. You could barely breathe, barely think.

You tilted your head back against the wall, tears slipping down your cheeks as the hopelessness settled in. You couldn’t leave. You couldn’t stay. You were trapped, caught between them and the growing horror of your own body.

The scarf around your neck felt suffocating, and you yanked it off, tossing it aside. The cool air hit your damp skin, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped.

You closed your eyes, one hand gripping the edge of your coat, the other clutching your belly as if you could somehow hold yourself together.

But the weight of it all—the twins, the chase, the impossible love you’d tried to escape—was crushing.

And there was no way out.

You slept on the floor that night, surrounded by nothing but loneliness.

-

You thought you had outrun them, that you had hidden well enough. But as the days passed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were getting closer. Each moment, each shadow in the corner of your eye, sent a spike of panic through your chest. Every time you thought you were alone, you wondered if they had found you. You kept your head down, kept yourself locked inside, but there was no escaping them.

One afternoon, it started with the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside your apartment. Quick, sharp taps against the floor—too measured, too familiar. You froze, clutching the edge of the counter, trying to steady yourself. The babies shifted violently inside you, as if they could sense the danger. Your stomach tightened, and you gasped, forcing yourself to remain still as you clutched your belly beneath your nightgown, one of the few garments that still fit you these days. You held your breath, praying that they wouldn’t notice you.

The doorbell rang. Once. Twice.

You didn’t move. Not a muscle. You couldn’t.

“I know you’re in there,” came a voice, rough and low, almost like a growl. You felt your pulse quicken.

Nanami.

Your neighbor had changed the locks, you’d moved the furniture around, and kept yourself out of sight as much as possible. But there he was, on the other side of the door. You could hear the quiet crack of his knuckles, the tension in the air as he stood there, waiting. He was here.

“I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay,” he called out, the words heavy with guilt but laced with something darker. You could almost hear the frustration in his voice, the desperation. He wasn’t going to give up.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the pain in your stomach flared. You squeezed your eyes shut, clutching your stomach as the babies twisted and churned, their movements becoming erratic, like they were responding to the stress, the pressure.

You had to leave. Now.

But before you could even think about making a move, you heard it—the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. The window.

Gojo.

You cursed under your breath. The bastard was here too.

A faint laugh echoed from outside the window—a sick, mocking sound that sent a chill racing down your spine. “You can’t hide forever, sweetheart.”

He laughed as if everything you had endured was nothing, as if you were merely pretending to fight with him and your act was over because he said so. It was as if your feelings and experiences were nothing more than a ploy for attention. The absurdity of it gave you whiplash, igniting a fury that boiled within you.

The window creaked as he slid it open. Your stomach lurched, and you felt the overwhelming urge to curl into yourself, to disappear. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. Not again.

“Shh, they won’t hurt you,” you whispered to the babies, trying to soothe them, but your voice trembled with the fear you couldn’t contain. “Just stay calm. Mama will protect you.”

You gripped the edge of the open kitchen counter, the marble biting into your skin, as you forced yourself to breathe through the pain. The babies pushing at the walls of your body like they were trying to escape, trying to break free. The pressure was too much.

Gojo’s voice was too close now. He was inside the apartment. You could hear his footsteps, feel the air shift as he moved around the space, searching for you.

You scrambled back, desperately searching for a place to hide, but there was nowhere left. The apartment felt too small, too suffocating, as if the walls were closing in on you. You pressed yourself against the wall, trying to make yourself as small as possible, your heart hammering in your chest, each beat echoing the fear coursing through your veins. 

With no other option, you forced yourself into the empty cabinet beneath the counter. Crouching down was a nightmare in your current state, your body heavy with the weight of the twins growing inside you. The pressure on your abdomen intensified, and you could feel the babies shifting restlessly; they sensed the danger surrounding you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising panic, but it was difficult. 

You shoved the scarf you were wearing into your mouth to muffle any sounds, knowing that you had to stay quiet. The fabric felt suffocating against your ragged breaths, but it was a small price to pay for their safety. You could feel the tightness in your stomach, a reminder of the distress both you and the babies were experiencing. Every movement sent a jolt of anxiety through you, and you fought to keep your breathing steady, focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest.

You whispered soft reassurances to the twins, hoping they could feel your determination. “I’m here, and I’m fighting for you,” you murmured, even as your heart raced with fear. You could feel their little bodies moving, responding to your voice, and it gave you a flicker of strength. You were scared, yes, but you were also their protector, and you would do everything in your power to keep them safe. 

As you crouched in the cramped space and closed the door, the world outside felt distant. You were surrounded by sheer darkness now. The fear was suffocating, but so was the fierce love you felt for them. You would fight through this, no matter what it took.

The front door’s lock was crushed in someone’s hand, and then the door flung open.

You held your breath. They were in the apartment now. Both of them.

“We know you’re here,” Gojo’s voice echoed through your bedroom, the smugness thick in his tone. “You can’t keep running from us forever.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, praying for the strength to stay hidden, to stay quiet. The babies moved again, harder this time, a sharp pain lancing through your body as they kicked and squirmed. You could feel the weight of them inside you, their frantic movements making it impossible to ignore the danger that was closing in.

They were too close.

Your small cabinet’s door swung open, and a testing hand reached out from the darkness, brushing against your arm.

Nanami.

You gasped, muffled by the scarf in your mouth, jerking away, but his reflexes were faster. The instant your skin accidentally grazed his, his hand turned, gripping your arm with an impossible hold.

“Don’t run from me,” he said, his voice low, rough with something dark, something broken. The intensity in his words sent a shiver through you, his turmoil bleeding into the air between you.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soft. A promise.

To you, it was a threat.

Your chest tightened. You wanted to scream, to fight, but the weight inside you—of the babies, the fear, the exhaustion—pinned you in place. Your breaths came shallow, your limbs trembling as desperation took over.

Before you could process, Gojo’s voice chimed through the suffocating tension.

“Got you.”

You didn’t even have time to react before his hand snaked around your leg. The two of them dragged you out of your hiding spot, your thrashing limbs no match for their combined strength.

They had found you.

“Running away doesn’t suit you,” Gojo said, his tone quieter than usual, dangerous.

A/N: And there you have it. My beloved, you are cornered, carrying the literal weight of emotional trauma and the twins of a whole new level of special grade. I hope you enjoyed the small glimpses of humanity (and insanity) from the men chasing her. I have decided to do two endings for this fic—one will be what I had originally written, which will be dead dove, and the other will be not-dead dove (sorry, I don't wanna spoil it, but I promise you will be safe in both, well, mostly). ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ) Let me know your unfiltered thoughts. Bonus points if you can defend Gojo eating the entirety of the in-flight dessert inventory. 👀

Chapter 5 - Something Soft, Something Sharp (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto

[pitchsidestories]

birds of a feather II Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

masterlist I word count: 1647

a/n: dear readers, the inspiration for the oneshot was this request here, we hope that we did the great idea justice.

warnings: contains coach abuse through a parental figure

“Come on move over, Viv!”, Jonas yelled before pushing Vivianne stronger than it would have been necessary.

Watching this scene unfold from the bench brought back memories which were engraved into your brain. But none of your teammates noticed your skin turn pale or the slight wobble of your underlip.

The harshness in your coaches’ voices and the physical aggressivity reminded you of your days in the youth team your stepfather had coached. Back in the day all you did was helplessly staying silent, eager to please, whatever he wanted from you to become what you wanted to be a professional footballer.

Unlike your child self the Dutch midfielder’s reaction wasn’t silence.

“What are you doing? You just said I should get ready!”, she shot back, visibly frustrated by his behaviour.

“You were too slow!”, the Swedish man replied angrily.

“You should have told me in time then! God!”, Vivianne shouted

Listening to their fight made you shrink a little bit more, every word they exchanged felt like a whiplash to you. Their sentences opened cuts you thought have long healed, but they turned out to be still open and you had a hard time to stay focused on the game in front of your eyes.

Flashes of the past returned to the forefront of your mind; you tried your best to ignore those, knowing fully well they would haunt you in your dreams tonight.

“Come on, guys, stop that nonsense.”, much to your relief the co-coach separated the two fighting parties.

“Can you believe that?!”, the forward asked you, sounding exasperated.

“Viv are you okay?!”, you whispered.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”, she assured you.

“Okay, good.”, you nodded. Although nothing was good. Not really, but you weren’t sure you could confide into her. You were still new to the team, and you didn’t want to bother her with things which laid in the past but had a way to resurface in the present.

After the game which resulted in a draw you were the last to be in the shower. Under the harsh waterjet you tried to scrub off what happened today, the skin turned already red, because of your strong rubbing against it.

“Hey, are you coming? You don’t want to miss the bus.”, Kim cleared her throat impatiently to get your attention.

“Yes, everyone is waiting for you.”, Leah added, standing right next to your team’s captain, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“I’m coming.”, you promised.

“Do you need help with anything?”, Lia asked concerned.

“No, I’m good, we can go.”, you waved her off while getting dressed, the clothes clinging to your skin and your hair was still wet when you left the changing room with your teammates.

You were quiet on your way back. You did not want to be that quiet. Everyone around you was talking and joking. But you just sat there, your thoughts spinning.

You barely even managed to say good bye to your teammates before going home.

Standing in front of the door of the small apartment, you could already hear your stepfathers voice.

He was yelling again.

For a moment you considered just leaving but then you thought better of it.

Carefully, you opened the door.

“Hi, I’m home.“, you announced yourself quietly.

Your stepdad immediately turned to you: “You played like shit today.“

You flinched as he stomped towards you: “But I…“

His hands wrapped around your upper arm. The sport bag dropped from your shoulder as he pushed you around in anger: “Whatever your coach said, he’s wrong! Remember who got you to where you are now?! Who coached you first and saw your potential!“

His face was so close to yours that you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

You could not get yourself to meet his eyes.

“I’m tired… I just want to go to bed.“, you said calmly, to not risk upsetting him even more.

He continued, pushing you backwards repeatedly until your back hit the wall with full force: “You better remember that! And you better work your ass off at the next game. I refuse to let you embarrass me again!“

There was so much you wanted to say. You wanted to shout how glad you were that he would never coach you again and how sorry you felt for the other kids. You wanted to scream that you owed him nothing, that you were the one who had built this career for yourself.

But you felt too drained to fight, so you just nodded and disappeared into your room without another word.

At training the next day, your stepfathers words reverberated in your head and you found yourself subconsciously pushing your body to its limit at every exercises.

This did not go unnoticed by your teammates.

“Woah, hey. Slow down, little one.“, Beth stopped you. She was smiling but there her eyebrows were knotted together in worry.

Steph appeared on your side as you caught your breath: “Yes, you don’t want to hurt yourself in training.“

“I won’t.“, you said plainly, hoping they would back off and would let you continue.

“Y/n…“, Beth started, the smile suddenly gone.

“Yes?“

“Relax a bit. This is almost as obsessive as Leah is with her training.“, she chuckled but you knew she was serious.

The blonde defender grimaced at her: “Excuse me?!“

Her voice went soft as she added: “But yes, something is off… Y/n, if you want to talk about it, you should know that we’re here for you.“

You could feel the tears well up in your eyes so you just shook your head.

“And if not to us, there’s also a psychologist here.“, Lia continued empathetically.

“It’s fine. Really. Just need to be better at the next game.”, you tried.to wave their worries off.

“You played like ten minutes. Not many players can make a difference in ten minutes.”, Katie argued.

“Yes, but it’s not good enough!”, you shouted, pushing the arm of the Irish woman which stretched out for a hug away.  

“Alright, calm down. Katie rolled her eyes annoyed at you, before turning her head to your other teammates who stood there equally clueless about your sudden emotional outbreak, sounds like she really does need to see our psychologist.”

You were close to shout at her, telling the older woman that she had no idea what was going on inside your brain, how unloving and dangerous your home felt. That family wasn’t always as perfect as the club painted it to be. But you decided to be quiet and continued to do your training.

It was after the next match day at home when Kim noticed that your stepdad was pushing you around.

” Girls, look.”, the captain nodded worried into your direction.

“We can’t just-“, Katie begun, already rolling up her sleeves, ready to fight against the taller man.

“Katie. He’s gone.”, Caitlin interrupted her girlfriend.

“Y/n?”, Kim was the first who was at your side, the rest of the team swiftly followed her.

“Kim? Katie?”, you blinked at them in surprise.

“Are you good? Is he bothering you.”, the Irish player wanted to know from you with deep concern in her voice.

“He’s my stepdad, he always acts like that.”, you looked down, ashamed that your home wasn’t as beautiful and wholesome as theirs.

“You know, I don’t think I like him an awful lot.”, Beth admitted.

“The next time he pushes you, I’ll push him back. Such an asshole!”, Katie cursed.

“No one’s pushing anyone here!”, Kim demanded in full captain mode. All she cared about was your well-being. The rest could be solved at a later stage.

“Right, and we need to get y/n out of this unhealthy situation at first.”, Lia added earnestly while brushing softly through your open hair with one hand to calm down her and your nerves.

“You really are the personification of Switzerland, Wally.”, Katie teased her, attempting to lighten up the depressive atmosphere.

“Someone has to find a reasonable solution.”, Lia defended herself.

“Maybe she could sleep at one of our places tonight until we have a plan?”, Kim suggested.

“Sounds good.”, Leah agreed seriously.

“She can stay with me and Viv.”, Beth announced, giving you a warm smile.

“Yes, she can stay as long as she wants. Plus, Myles will be so excited to see her again.”, the Dutch footballer grinned at the memory of their little puppy who loved you a lot.

“Thanks, girls.”, you mumbled gratefully.

Gently, Beth put her arm around your shoulders: “That’s what we’re here for.“

“Yes but all your families are so cute and then there’s mine… so I thought I never belonged.“, you admitted, not sure if you were making any sense.

Alessia shrugged, her gaze fixed on you: “Not everyone has a perfect family.“

“And family is not always blood-related.“, Beth added softly.

For a moment you were sure that you saw tears glistening in her blue eyes but you could not blame her. She had been through a lot.

“What do you mean?“, you asked.

“What Beth is trying to say is that we can be your family, y/n.“, Leah explained.

You looked up at her in surprise: “Really?“

“This is what this team is and always was.“, Kim nodded solemnly.

“A family…“, you said conclusively.

You looked at your teammates and were left speechless by the determination and empathy in their faces.

After years of suffering through the abuse in youth teams, your heart felt full with gratefulness and adoration for your teammates. But it simultaneously was also breaking for the children still having horrible coaches and being dismissed.

In that moment, you made a promise to yourself to make whatever team you would join a safe space and a family as well.

But for now, you were ready to let your guard down and let your Arsenal family take care of you.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Seven — Azriel x Reader

Note: I hope you enjoy this part because I’m not overly happy with how it’s written, I don’t know why 😭probably just me being a DUMBASS. Also, it’s still not letting me tag some of you 😩anyone know why?

Summary: The Bat Boys are worried about reader. Cassian’s getting a little suspicious of Kaeda. Azriel is really, really missing his friend.

Word count: 7k.

Warnings: Some injury detail.

“He cannot do this. Surely, he cannot fucking do this.”

Azriel slams his fist on the table so hard that ale sloshes over the lip of a mug. The atmosphere in the mead hall is unusually calm tonight. There’s more laughter than arguing, and some dickhead with a lute is even providing the attendants with music. But at the centre table, a cloud of doom darkens the mood.

Everyone has wisely given Rhys, Cassian and Azriel a wide berth.

Tensions are high. Something’s got to give.

“His role in this camp is to oversee our training.” Az balls his fists. “Not to get involved with how we spend our time outside of it.” He eyes Cass and Rhys opposite him. “Right?”

“Technically, yes.” Rhys confirms. “But as the overseer of said training, he also has the authority to remove any distractions as he sees fit.”

“Distractions? She’s our friend, not a fucking toy—”

“I’m just putting it to you straight, Az. It’s the typical Illyrian attitude rearing its ugly head. All four of us made the decision to go to Fenlaros, and yet it’s the female who shoulders the blame.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Cassian finally speaks up.

He hasn’t said much. Too busy thinking about last night.

Nobody knows a thing about that wild, impulsive fuck except him and Y/N. He plans to keep it that way. Not out of any sense of regret, but…he doesn’t know. His brain is ticking over.

He can���t help wondering something that’s never occurred to him before.

Is Y/N branded a certain way by Illyrian ideologies because the closest people to her are males? Has she unfairly gained a reputation — one that would be made worse if what she and Cassian had done became common knowledge?

He doesn’t want to be the reason she gets more shit thrown her way. He’s starting to think he should think harder before he acts. Maybe last night was a mistake. He can’t even see Y/N to talk it through with her.

“So what do we do?” Az is asking as Cass zones back in. “There’s got to be something. Do we take the matter to your father?”

Rhys cocks an eyebrow. “Be real for a second, Az. My father would laugh us out of Velaris. He doesn’t concern himself with trivial camp matters.”

“Y/N having to choose between an abusive household or perishing in the snow is not a trivial matter.”

“To him, it is. He’d tell Devlon to lead and do what he believes is right. Which, he already has, even if we don’t agree with it.”

“Well that’s bullshit. We can’t just lie down and do nothing—”

“I’m not saying that, Az—”

“What about your mother? She adores Y/N. Surely she could appeal to your father—”

“No. She’s pregnant. She stays out of this.”

“Then what do you suggest, Rhysand?”

“How about you start by explaining to Cass and I what’s gotten into you recently?”

Finally, Az has nothing to say. He goes silent. Still.

He stares back at his two friends like he can’t imagine why they would wonder such a thing.

And then he purses his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian scoffs. “Please. Even I think you starting fights left and right has been extreme.”

“Fuck you. You’re totally exaggerating.”

Rhysand raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“We’re just worried that your behaviour has changed since Kaeda came into the picture—”

“You know what I’m worried about?” Az snaps. “Our friend who is literally homeless as of this morning. That’s a little more important, don’t you think?”

Yes…and no. It’s not that Cassian and Rhys don’t agree. It’s just that…that all roads lead back to Kaeda. And that’s becoming a problem.

“We’re not just going to leave Y/N to deal with this alone, Az.” Rhys tells him. “We just need to be careful about how we deal with it. Devlon isn’t messing around. I don’t want us to cause her more trouble.”

As folds his arms. “So what do you suggest?”

“I’ll talk to Y/N’s friend — Vegha. I’m sure she can open her home to Y/N while we figure things out. Just don’t do anything impulsive or stupid.”

That seems to appease Az a little. He sits back in his chair — allows himself to be a bit more open.

Until Cass totally fucking ruins it and says, “And don’t go starting any more fights just to impress Kaeda.”

Az says again, “Fuck you.”

Cass returns a withering look. “Fuck you right back.”

“Productive.” Rhys comments, shaking his head. He pushes to his feet, and both his friends look round.

“Where are you going?” Az asks.

“To speak with Vegha.” Rhys tells him. “And don’t follow me. You two idiots will only make things worse.”

He has no idea how right he is.

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It starts with the fire going out. Always.

The door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and freezing air envelops the place. Your father tracks snow into the house, and he smells so strongly of booze that it permeates the room and spreads like a sickness.

You are five years old. You like to draw things in the soot that coats the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. The house always feels untidy since mama stole away in the dead of night a year ago. You try to keep on top of the cleaning, but the damp and the cold makes your hands sore, your bones ache.

Every night, you sit with your hands in your lap and wait for your father to return home. If he’s coming back from the forge, he’s tired and in a bad mood. If he’s coming back from the mead hall or a tavern, he’s drunk and in a really bad mood.

Tonight is the latter. But not only is he drunk and in a bad mood — he’s also brought company.

Four other males. They’re all huge — too huge to fit into the house, you think. If they’ve come for food, there isn’t any. If they’ve come for comfort, there isn’t any of that, either.

But they’re looking at you, all four of them. And in some way, you know that it’s you they’ve come for.

“This is the one?” A male with reddish-brown hair asks.

“I have only one.” Your father answers, and he jerks a chin in your direction. “That is it.”

It.

“Scrawny. There’s barely anything of her.” A second male comments. “This won’t be difficult.”

“I always think that,” reddish-brown answers, “and then they start fighting back. Kicking and scratching.”

You may only be five, but you are not foolish. Something is very, very wrong. A sinister wave has swept your already-miserable home, and you are about to be swallowed up in it. You eye the four males with wide eyes and scoot back a little.

Reddish-brown is the leader. He folds his arms with an authoritative air and announces, “Pathorn and Yevmael can hold her down,” he turns to the second male, “you take one wing, and I’ll take the other.”

The male that steps towards you from the back has eyes as black as the soot in the hearth. His lips twitch up on one side, and he says, “Come here, then, little pup.”

You do not move.

“Come.” He repeats. “It won’t hurt…much.”

They laugh at that.

You tuck your dirty, bruised knees tightly into your chest and rest your chin atop of them. You say nothing, make no move.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” His friend at the back says, stalking over to you. “Just pick her up.”

He does exactly that — by the scruff of your neck. You yelp as he yanks you into the air, and on instinct, your arms are flailing, legs kicking, tiny wings flaring.

“Look at that.” Charcoal eyes sneers at those very wings. “It’s a fucking abomination.”

If this is a game, you don’t like it. You twist in the male’s grasp, try to wriggle free, and he growls a curse at you. You growl back — a fierce, fierce noise, you think. It makes the males laugh again.

“On the table.” Reddish-brown says. “Face-down.”

“Papa,” you fight, “papa, papa, papa.”

There comes no response. It’s then that you realise he’s removed himself from the room. Left you with these monsters.

“Quiet now, pup.” Charcoal eyes says. “This won’t take long.”

You want to scratch him, and you try, even though your nails are chewed and bitten, despite mama always telling you not to do that. But mama isn’t here now and neither is papa. It’s just strangers with angry faces. Strangers who want to hurt you.

You’re slammed down onto the table, and you let out a cry. Someone holds your legs down. Another person holds your arms.

You are five years old. You like to draw pictures in the soot that covers the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. You are utterly and totally alone.

“I hope you never thought about flying.” Reddish-brown steps up to you. “That day will never come.”

And then they begin hacking at your wings.

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Your father takes you to a healer only when it’s almost too late. A fever scorches you head to toe. You think that mama returns to sit by your bedside, but that isn’t real. It’s a dream.

You’re too weak. You sleep fitfully on your front, because trembles wrack your body that continuously wake you up. You jerk every time the pain at your back gets too much.

The door opens, and you wonder if mama is returning again. You like that dream. But it’s your father, accompanied by the male who has been leaning over your weakened body for days.

“Will she live?” Your father asks.

“She will.” The healer tells him. “If she can fight off the infection.”

“Can’t you just give her a tonic, or something?”

“This is the worst wing clipping I have ever seen. There are ample healers in Illyria who are qualified to carry out the practice. What possessed you to instead leave her in the hands of a group of soldiers?”

“I will do with my child as I see fit.”

“You may no longer have a child, if she cannot fight this. Her life hangs in the balance.”

Your father makes a noise that sounds like a growl. He does that when you’re in his way, and he just wants to sit quietly without you lingering around him. “Give her a fucking tonic—”

“If she survives this,” the healer tells him, “she will be scarred and in pain for the rest of her life. You did not merely clip her wings. You butchered them. This is precisely why a healer should be the one to perform the procedure—”

Your body jerks with a fresh wave of pain, and you whimper. Both your father and the healer look over at you.

Your father’s lip curls, and he turns to the male once more. “Fix her.” He commands. “Because if you can’t, you’re helping me bury the body.”

No. The males will come back and put their hands on you again. They’ll bury a body. They’ll bury your body. They’re going to bury you. Soil will fall on your ruined wings, and when mama truly does come back, she’ll have only an unmarked grave to greet you at.

You try to move, but you’re strapped down. You whimper again.

Bury the body.

Bury the body.

Bury the—

Your body lurches up.

Sweat slicks your skin. You press a hand to your forehead, but it’s cool, not burdened by fever. You’ve awoken like this every morning for the past week.

The dreams are burdening you a lot right now. The memories.

They remind you, at least, why you will not return to your father’s home. Even if you end up hunching yourself up in doorways and exhausting any other dire options.

You hear a noise from the doorway, and you rub the bleariness from your eyes. Illuminated by the dim light in the hall, a male leans against the doorframe. He watches you nonchalantly, biting into an apple. Green, not red.

“You were shouting in your sleep again.”

You heave a deep, slow sigh and rake your fingers through your hair. Sweat soaks the strands.

“You dream often about burying bodies, don’t you?” The male steps into the room. He flares his wings, and you try not to look at them. “You’re quite odd. I think I like it.”

“Get out, Markis.” You sigh again. “Stop watching me sleep. It’s strange.”

“Is it more or less strange than chanting about burying a body?” He smirks. “And you’re in my house, remember? You can’t tell me to get out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my house, too, and I can.” Suddenly, Vegha is appearing. She swats her younger brother, and a slither of relief settles into you. “Stop bugging her, Markis. Go to the training rings, or something.”

Markis so clearly doesn’t want to leave. He eyes you, his gaze falling from your neck, down to the old, threadbare sweater that you’ve been sleeping in. It’s Azriel’s — still smells like him.

The intensity of the male’s gaze is uncomfortable. And after a week of tolerating it, you’re not sure you can any longer.

“Fine.” He swallows down a bite of apple. He sends you a leering smirk. “I’ll tell your friends you said hello.”

Vegha rolls her eyes. “Markis, just leave before I boil your entire head—

“I’m going, I’m going.”

The male strides out of the room, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. You should ignore it, because the idiot is just basking in the novelty of having a female under his roof that he’s not related to, but the discomfort has sunk itself under your skin, and you’re not sure you can live with it.

Which is a bit of a problem, considering there are no other avenues for you to explore, and have nowhere else to go.

Vegha shuts the door behind her brother and turns to you. “You slept fitfully again.”

“Yes.” You feel a little bad admitting it. It’s not her, nor her family home, nor the bed that’s the problem. It’s you. All you. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Of course, you do. I wish there was more I could do to help.”

“You’ve done more than enough, Vegha.”

She doesn’t look convinced. The worried streak in her eyes is an indicator of how terrible you look. And you know she’s just caring for you as your friend, but you can’t stand it. One more pitying glance may push you over the edge.

“I have to get to the crèche.” She tells you. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

“No—thank you.” You sit up. “Listen…I won’t be here when you return home. I’m getting out of your hair today.”

She pauses. Studies you. “You’re not in my hair. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Ignore Markis — he’s a cock.”

You breathe a soft laugh. But you can’t ignore Markis — not any longer. Just as you haven’t been able to ignore any of the males who have made the past week even more difficult than it already was.

Illyrian males are…are a sickness. They’re bred in violence and depravity. So few of them are good.

And if the past week without Azriel, Rhys and Cassian has taught you anything, it’s that to some degree, your exposure to such behaviours has always been muted, thanks to their protection. They’ve been a strong unit around you since you were eleven years old. Most males have been wise enough to steer clear and escape the wrath that would come down on them for messing with you.

But now you’re forbidden from seeing them, and you’re free game for any fucking male in this gods-forsaken place.

You need to be away from them. To be on your own.

“I know.” You answer Vegha. “And I appreciate you opening your home to me, I really do. But it’s fine — I’ve made other arrangements.”

The look she gives you is dubious. She doesn’t believe you, and rightfully so — it’s total bullshit. “You have?”

“I have.” You dip your chin. “I’ll be just fine.”

“…well I’m glad to hear it. You’ll come right back here if those plans fall through, right?”

“Of course I will.” No.

She hesitates at the door. She’s been nothing but kind and accommodating to you — a real friend.

But it’s bad enough not being able to escape the males that haunt your dreams. There’s a damn good reason for you staunchly refusing to return to your father. You will not swap one monster for another.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Vegha studies you. There’s a sadness in her brown eyes. She genuinely cares. “Take care, Y/N.”

“I will.” You force a breezing smile. “And you, also.”

She inclines her head, and then she’s slipping out of the room. The silence only gives way for your too-near dreams to dig their claws in. You scrub your hands harshly over your face and push to your feet.

You don’t know where you’ll go. It’s tempting to ignore Lord Devlon’s warning and race back to the cottage. Drama may await you there — a total mess that you somewhat made for yourself — but at least you’d be warm and safe while facing it.

You can’t — you know you can’t. You don’t want Az or Cass or Rhys to face any consequences.

So after you get yourself ready and gather what little stuff you have, you head out into the snow and hope you won’t be sleeping in it that night.

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Azriel strikes at the sparring dummy as if it fucked his wife and stole his seat at the dinner table.

The damn things are supposed to be bolted to the ground, but a couple of bolts are no match against the fearsome shadowsinger.

He strikes and strikes until the object is more or less obliterated, because fuck the sparring dummy, that’s why. Fuck the sparring dummy, and fuck Lord Devlon, and fuck—

“I think you made your point.” A trilling voice cuts through his red mist of rage. “How about you set the sword down and have some water?”

Perhaps it’s just Azriel’s anger thinking for him, but he doesn’t feel that Kaeda has been particularly helpful from where she’s perched atop a smooth rock. She cleans her nails with the tip of a dagger and stretches her wings out around her.

Across the ring, Cassian watches and turns to Rhysand. “Why is she allowed to be here, but Y/N isn’t?”

Rhys shrugs his tense shoulders. He doesn’t know the answer.

The two of them step closer to where their brother is trying to breathe through his fury. He’s not coping so well.

See, Azriel has experience with missing things. He misses his mother all the time. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, manageable amongst the mundane comings and goings of life. Other times, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t think clawing his chest open would be too extreme a reaction. Missing a person is a sensation that knits itself under his skin and seeps into the marrow of his bones. It’s relentless and hideous.

Missing Y/N is a new kind of torture he never contemplated having to face.

It’s not just that he’s worried about where she is, whether or not she’s safe and well. It’s that he misses the silliest, tiniest things about her that he didn’t even know he’d ever noticed in the first damn place. The rapt determination with which she cuts the crusts off her bread because that’s a little too much bread for her. The way she gestures wildly with her hands whilst passionately talking about things. That ruined, tattered journal she carries around in which she scrawls blunt, one-sentenced, sometimes unintelligible thoughts. And her scent — gods, her scent.

It has been one week — an amount of time he’s spent away from her before. But it’s different this time. This isn’t like being away on a training exercise and knowing he’ll soon be coming home. He knows nothing. Doesn’t even know what to think, what to feel.

Other than an overt urge to murder the camp lord. Violently.

“How about we get done here and head to the mead hall?” Kaeda breaks through his warring thoughts. “I’m starved.”

Az grabs a nearby rag, wiping the sweat from his face. “Not really hungry.”

There’s a pause. And then a soft sigh leaves the female. She sheathes her blade and pushes to her feet, just as Rhys and Cassian are approaching. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, Azriel, but you can’t be visiting my father with this attitude.”

At once, this grabs the other two males’ interests, and Azriel wants to groan. Right. He’d forgotten about that.

“What’s this?” Rhys frowns, staring between Az and Kaeda. “You’re returning to Fenlaros?”

“My father invited Azriel to dine with us, that’s all.” Kaeda answers for him.

It had genuinely slipped Azriel’s mind. Amongst everything else waging war in his thoughts, a dinner with Kaeda’s family in Fenlaros had sunk right to the bottom.

But he knows immediately how it looks. That he’s being secretive.

Rhys studies Azriel closely. “And you’ve cleared this with Devlon?”

No, no he hadn’t. Quite simply, he’s not sure he can be within twenty feet of the bastard, right now, without throttling him.

He hates himself for it — he really, truly does. But for the sake of sparing himself a lecture, he shrugs. “I have.”

He does not lie to his brothers. And they can smell that lie on him right away.

Cassian stares at Kaeda for a long moment, before turning towards Az. “That is a fucking terrible idea, and you know it.”

“It’s dinner.” Kaeda shoots back.

Cass grits his teeth. “I’m talking to Azriel.”

“Listen, Cassian—”

“Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”

All four of them turn in the direction of the intrusion —and they stop short.

All three of the males know Vegha, of course. Rhys was grateful that she’d so willingly opened her home to Y/N when he’d asked. But other than that, they’ve only spoken to her in passing — she’s never had reason to seek them out before.

But what adds a slither of urgency to her rare appearance at the training rings is the even rarer appearance of the two little girls who hold her hands. They’re not supposed to be here, and Vegha knows this well.

She obviously deemed whatever this is urgent enough to bypass that rule.

“Vegha.” Azriel steps forward, studying her closely. “Is all well?”

Vegha shifts on her feet, clutching tighter onto the girls’ hands. She’s never comfortable here, around all these males, but it’s a different unwanted attention that makes her want to turn and leave.

Kaeda eyes her head to toe with a look of distaste. Of mistrust. She folds her arms and flares her wings — a gesture that has the little girls gasping.

“Settle down.” Vegha squeezes their hands. She directs her attention back to the males. Strange, that she feels more comfortable with them than she does with the only other female present. “Honestly, Azriel, I’m not at all sure.”

Rhys steps forward. “Is it Y/N?”

Cassian swears — swears — that a small sigh comes from behind him. From Kaeda.

“I know you’ve been instructed to stay away, and I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.” Vegha tells them. “It’s just…well, she was staying at my home this past week, as you asked, Rhysand. I told her she was welcome for as long as she needs — that she mustn’t return to her father’s house. But just this morning, she suddenly announced that she was leaving…that she’d found somewhere else to stay.”

“And?” The word slips from Kaeda’s lips.

Yeah, Cass definitely isn’t in the mood for this today.

“And…and I’m not sure I believe her.” Vegha shrugs slowly. “My brother wasn’t exactly making it a pleasant stay, and I think she was desperate to get out of there. But I can’t imagine where she’d go. I just…thought I should tell you. You know her better than I do.”

True — except her three closest friends can’t imagine where she’d go, either, if not back to her father’s house. And they can’t imagine her resorting to that.

She has no money for a room at an inn. She doesn’t have a long list of friends who will open their homes up to her. And she most certainly can’t go back to Rhys’s mother’s cottage.

So…where? Will she pitch up in one of the abandoned tents across the camp? Will she spend her nights shivering in doorways and wondering where her next meal is coming from?

This is fucking ridiculous.

She can’t be left to live like this.

“You did the right thing, telling us.” Rhys reassures Vegha. He offers a gentle, soft smile to the girls at her sides. “How about you take these two back into the warm? We’ll deal with it.”

Gods, he’s already a High Lord through and through. Calm in the face of turmoil. Not letting on to his inner panic.

Vegha dips her chin. “Sorry, again, for interrupting.” She tugs gently at the children’s’ hands. “Come, girls.”

Rhysand’s brow furrows. Vegha is perhaps the only other good friend Y/N has in this place. There’s no way she’s made other arrangements — Rhys knows it. Cassian knows it. Azriel knows it.

“We’ve got to do something.” Azriel voices what they’re all thinking, a feral panic colouring his tone. “We can’t just leave her to face this on her own. Fuck what Devlon says. I’m not sitting back and letting her freeze or starve to death.”

Rhys chews his lip. “…I can try to speak with my father. But I’m not hopeful where he’s concerned. This falls under Devlon’s jurisdiction.”

“All Y/N needs is a roof over her head and some food in her belly until we can work out what to do next.” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s got to be some way we can help. Is there not any clue of where she might go?”

The two males are looking at Az expectantly. If anyone knows, it’s him.

But he’s just…he’s not had his eye on the ball recently. His thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps he’s neglected his friendships a little — because he could swear he knows Y/N inside and out, and yet his mind is blank. Utterly fucking blank.

“I—I need to think.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning — he stops at the flash of red hair that meets him. He’d forgotten Kaeda was even there.

She stares between them, saying nothing, her face pinched and arms crossed. What she’s thinking, Az isn’t sure. But a thought suddenly strikes him.

“Kaeda.” He faces her properly. “Can’t you house Y/N in Fenlaros for the time being? Until this is sorted?”

Kaeda stops short. Blinks at him. “…What?”

“It doesn’t have to be your home, or…or even anything extravagant. Just somewhere she can sleep. There are surely more options in Fenlaros than there are here.”

Kaeda does not like this one bit. A negative reaction is rippling off her in waves, and it hits Cassian like a blast of cold air. Rhys, too.

But Az seems oblivious.

“Azriel…” The female keeps her voice calm, measured. “You know it isn’t that easy. A person can’t just…defect to another camp.”

“She wouldn’t—”

“So what’s your excuse?” The words are falling from Cassian’s lips before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he cares.

Kaeda pauses. Her face is a sheet of wide-eyed innocence as she turns to him. “Pardon me?”

Cass shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve been buzzing around here for months like a fly. What’s your excuse, if that’s not allowed? Because your father may be Lord of Fenlaros, sweetheart, and he may let you do whatever you want, but look around you. This is Windhaven. His word doesn’t mean shit here.”

Azriel takes a step towards him. “Cassian—”

“Either help our friend, or stay the fuck out of it—”

“Cassian, that is enough—”

“It’s fine, Azriel.” Kaeda’s voice is so deceptively warm, you could melt butter on it. She steps towards Cassian, face open, hands held up in a placating manner. “It’s fine. You’re right. I understand you’re upset, and I…I apologise if my presence here has been burdensome. Of course I’ll help any way that I can. I’ll talk to my father right away.”

Cass doesn’t feel particularly satisfied by that. Doesn’t believe a fucking word, to be honest. His eyes communicate that as he stares the female up and down.

“Cass, I think you should apologise.” Azriel says.

He barks a laugh. “No chance.”

“Kaeda just said she’d help—”

“Enough.” Rhys finally jumps in. His tone is laced with authority — just a smidgen of an idea of what he might one day be like as High Lord. He crosses his arms and glares the three of them down as though they’re bickering younglings. “Arguing back and forth will do nothing to help Y/N. We need to act. I will speak to my father. Kaeda will speak to hers. Az, you should see if you can find out where Y/N might have gone. Cass, I want you making sure she doesn’t go anywhere near her fucking father’s house. By the end of the day, we should have at least sorted something. Understood?”

Cass doesn’t look away from Kaeda. He can see her eye twitching — the way she so desperately wants to push back against being ordered. Gods, how Az can’t see right through her, he has no clue—

“Understood.” Azriel answers without hesitation. “I’ll get right on it.”

Rhys inclines his head. “As will I.”

“And I’ll head back to Fenlaros.” Kaeda adds.

Cassian merely shrugs. “Fine.”

Without goodbyes, Azriel is shooting into the skies — probably hoping to get an aerial view of a sodden, freezing Y/N traipsing through the snow.

Rhys looks between Cassian and Kaeda for a beat longer before he disappears, winnowing — Cass assumes — straight to Velaris.

And then there were two.

Kaeda turns back to Cass. The doe-eyed look on her face is instantly gone. There’s a hint of a damn smirk.

“Whatever game you’re playing at,” Cassian clenches his jaw. “You will not win.”

A soft hiccup of a laugh escapes the redhead. “Oh, yes I will.” She steps closer. Close enough for her cotton-and-powder scent to envelop the male. “See, I always get what I want. Always.”

“Not this time. Azriel may not see you for the viper that you are, but I do.” He grits his teeth. “And I will fucking destroy you before you cause any damage.”

Green eyes glitter back at him. The female is unperturbed by the threat — and she knows he means it. There’s even a change in her scent that makes Cassian’s nostrils flare. A darker one. A muskier one.

“Oh, Cassian, I do hope so.” She says, and pushes up so her lips are at his ear. Her full breasts brush his chest. “I love a male who’s willing to punish me.”

She winnows away before the snarl has a chance to claw up Cassian’s throat.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This is starting to feel like a bad idea.

It was easy, from the warmth and comfort of Vegha’s home, to convince yourself you’d be fine out amongst the wilds of the camp. But the old armoury is dark, dingy and cold, and within hours, you’re not sure you have the resolve for a single night there. Let alone however many you have ahead of you.

This used to be a place of mischief, when you and your friends were children. This far end of the camp has sat abandoned and unused for years, after newer, more effective training rings were installed where the hub of activity now lays. The four of you would spend days here, playing pretend with the old, wooden practice swords that were left behind. You’d make up stories of the area being haunted by the ghost of an ancient, disgruntled Camp Lord. And as you got older, it became a place to come and get drunk, to speak words and secrets that remained there, never to be carried away with you.

You won’t be bothered here, you know — nobody ventures this way. But that, and the fact that the old armoury affords you a roof over your head, are about the only positives. You’re so cold that it hurts. You’re hungry and miserable and tired in a way that has nothing to do with nightmare-filled sleeps.

And gods, you miss your friends. You miss them so much, it‘s a gnawing ache. All those nights you took for granted, tucked up warm in the cottage, Cassian making you all laugh with his antics. Those times seem so distant, now. Is this how it will be, from now on? Never did you think you’d be separated from your friends. And you don’t even know if this is a permanent thing. Will you have to wait and wait until Rhysand is High Lord and able to make decisions, before you can see them again?

These thoughts will do you no good. They’ll only make you colder and drive you to shed tears that you’re not sure you have the energy to shed.

You bundle in your blanket, squeezing your eyes shut as though that fruitless act will shield you from the cold. You were tempted to build a fire, but the last thing you want is to draw attention from anyone flying above. Being found in here will just bring you more trouble you don’t need.

You’re already hunched as it is, gloved hands buried under your armpits — but you somehow manage to tense even more when you hear the distinct sound of boots traipsing through the snow outside.

No.

You can’t do this — not right now. Nobody fucking comes here. Is the Mother laughing at you from above and sprinkling more misfortune into your already-dire existence? You can’t handle a confrontation, can’t handle being told you can’t stay here—

But the door creaks open, and it’s Azriel’s face that peers around cautiously. You almost sob with relief.

“Thank fuck.” He breathes. He’s slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. In a few great strides, he’s in front of you and dropping to his knees. “Are you alright?”

If you speak, you might crack. You risk it all the same. “How did you find me?”

“Took me a while to think of this place, I must admit. It’s been a long while since we were last here.”

But find you, he did. And fuck, his scent and natural warmth are swarming you. It feels like nothing else matters right then. Just you and him, like it’s always been. He yanks you into a hug, and you don’t stop him.

“You’re frozen.” He whispers, squeezing you. His gloved hands rub at your arms, your back, your shoulders. He pulls away to cup your face, and he studies every inch of it. You’re not sure what for.

But you stare back. You don’t know what to do or say. That could be the cold making it difficult to think, or it could be this weird wedge between you that feels like it’s only growing.

Az leans closer, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I miss you.” His gloves brush over your cheeks. “Gods, I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” You shudder. The words are weighty and truthful, not just referring to this past week apart, but to whatever has been going on for a while, now. You didn’t mean for it to be like this. You just want to go back to how it was.

“I’ve thought about nothing else—” His nose bumps against yours, and one of his hands slides to the nape of your neck, kneading the skin there. “I just—just need you close to me, Y/N. Always.”

You attempt a breathy laugh. “I don’t think Devlon would agree with that.”

“Fuck, Devlon. We’re going to get around this. Rhys is going to talk to his father, and even if that fails, Kaeda is talking to hers. I reckon they’ll be able to offer you sanctuary in Fenlaros until this is sorted—”

You pull back to blink at him. Study him. “What?”

“I asked Kaeda to speak with her father on your behalf. To see if they can find somewhere for you to stay. I’m sure they can—”

“Azriel, I’m not going to Fenlaros.”

He pauses. “…If they’ll have you, Y/N, yes you are. It means you’ll be safe and warm and fed—”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Besides the fact that I’m already in enough trouble thanks to that place?” You pull away from him, easing to your feet. “I don’t know anyone there. And if Devlon were to find out—”

“Stop worrying about Devlon and start worrying about your safety.” Azriel, too, stands. “It’s the most logical thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not going further away from you than I already am, and I’m especially not going to start playing house with your lover, Azriel, it’s odd—”

“That’s what this is about?” He cocks an eyebrow. Folds his arms. “Because you don’t want to accept help from Kaeda?”

You shrug. And just…just to give your body something to do, you begin pacing. “I’m not sure it would be very helpful at all.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You just don’t like her, do you?” He snaps. The sound is harsh, and it makes you grit your teeth. “You’re not willing to accept help that you so clearly fucking need, because you don’t like Kaeda.”

“I don’t trust Kaeda.” You whirl around to face him. “Not one fucking bit, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“Why?”

“Because none of it makes sense! Why is she here in Windhaven, Azriel? What is it she actually wants?”

It’s dangerous — the way your voices are rising in volume and echoing around the armoury. But it’s as though weeks of emotional buildup are floating to the surface, and you can’t stop them, and they’re stoking an anger that actually warms you and feels better than being cold and hungry.

Azriel shakes his head. “You’re fucking impossible sometimes, you know that? You don’t want to help yourself. It’s like you’re determined to make your life as difficult as possible, and when you’re offered help, you don’t take it. You’re impossible!”

“Yeah, Azriel, maybe I am.” You snap back. “But at least I’m not lying through my teeth like Kaeda is, and at least I don’t break my damn promises.”

Azriel stops short. Stares at you.

You and he both know you’re referring to Solstice Night. You should have confronted it before, but…but you buried it.

You’re not sure you can do that anymore.

Azriel purses his lips. And then has the nerve to state, “Things are different between you and I these days.”

“Yes.” You stare back at him. “They are.”

Your eyes are trying to communicate so much. Things are different, and it might be the boundaries you crossed, but you’re more certain than anything that it’s Kaeda’s influence. You just don’t understand why Azriel can’t see it.

You wonder what he might say yet. So much anger and pent-up frustration zips between you. Mixed with longing and missing each other. Loving each other. Wanting to scream at each other, and for each other.

And part of you wants him to spit vicious words and fight back, just for you to feel something — even though you know that’s not Azriel’s style. But you stare and stare, and neither of you speak, and then Az is shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“I’m not arguing with you here.” He says. “It’ll only draw attention to us.”

You fold your arms. “Fine.”

“I’m going to speak to Rhys, find out what his father said. And I’ll speak to Kaeda—”

“Go right ahead. I’m still not stepping foot back in Fenlaros—”

“And I’ll bring you some blankets and food. Or Cassian will. Or…whatever.” He stops still for a second, swallowing. “But we need to fix this shit between us.”

You know that. But you’re so fucking stubborn, your own worst enemy. And right then, you want to scream. Cry. Hurt him how he hurt you.

So you say nothing. You just shrug again.

He stares, as if waiting for a better reaction. And then he shakes his head once more and turns, striding back to the door. You wonder if it’s a bad thing to let him go, like this. When will you see him again? How will things be when you see him again? You’re making it worse for yourself, for him, for both of you.

You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure. But you’re stopped by Az pausing with his hand on the doorknob. With his back to you, his shoulders tense. He’s frozen in place.

And then he speaks — growls — two words. “Fuck this.”

He turns, marching back over to you so fast, you don’t have time to react.

And then he’s grabbing your face, and his mouth is on yours.

azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd

[bobluvbot]

someone you loved

pairing: sirius black x f!reader  summary: your relationship with sirius hurt so much, that the only way forward was to forget. wc: 3k a/n: angst angst angst!!! lots of negative self talk and low self esteem, allusions to a bad childhood (not stated directly), implied emotional abuse & cheating, both sirius and reader are going through it.

snippets of his voice echo in your head like a haunting lullaby that doesn’t seem to end. its funny how the mind is known to block out the traumatic memories, but for some reason, yours kept record of the most painful ones that left his lips.

you’re just too much. 

i can’t love you the way you expect me to.

i’m ending this.

i’m sorry, but i can’t deal with this, with you, anymore.

it keeps repeating like a song once loved, now loathed left on repeat, and a stop button might be somewhere but you can’t bring yourself to turn it off. it reminds you of that habit you secretly developed when you had two large bruises on both your knees after a nasty fall, bone hitting pavement. nothing bled, which was a relief to the new babysitter as no bright band-aids would be blatant proof of her lack of attention on the kid she was supposed to keep watch on. blood kept within the skin, nothing left to do but to watch your body slowly take it back. you were curious of how the color changes each day, the angry reds bleeding into dark purples that resemble galaxies that you’d see on your astronomy books. one day spent examining your bruises again, you pressed on the reddish purple one too hard and tears spring up your eyes when the sting hits. but as it lingered and faded, a strange feeling of satisfaction replaced it, and you felt the urge to press on it again, curious to see if the same unknown feeling makes an appearance again. It does, and the fascination as you play in between the lines of pain and pleasure follows you as you grew up. Curious, you once read up on it from those muggle books, where you learn that the body itself releases pain-killing hormones that help relieve the perception of pain, leading to a temporary feeling of relief. 

you knew thinking about sirius’ words will never not hurt, will continue to bury you in a deepening hole that you have to fight to the nails to crawl out of, but you couldn’t stop. 

It gave deep seated satisfaction to that green monster in the back of your mind, responsible for only seeing the negative in each situation you find yourself in. ‘i told you so,’ it says in a tinny singsong voice, clearly pleased with each iteration of sirius’ words and the raw metal stabbing your heart each time.  

it also serves like a constant reminder of your failure. Failure to love like a decent person, failure to be the person that sirius needed, failure to gauge what was too much that the other person drowned without you knowing, failure to protect yourself and your dignity from being trampled on like nothing, and failure to just simply accept the fact that love just wasn’t made for people like you. 

being friends with lily made you forget a lot of things, fundamental parts that you realized so young. you knew better, should have after everything you’ve gone through, but somehow with her, anything seemed possible, achievable, tangible when you’re a kind person. marlene would always say, doing good things meant you can expect to receive good things back from the universe.

and for the most part it seemed to always work that way. you’d witnessed james nurture the simple appreciation he had on lily’s genuine smile at him that eased his nerves while they were in line to get sorted into houses throughout the years, growing as he’d gotten to know her innate kindness and wit, and finally erupting from him like rays of sunlight until he became brave enough to speak it out loud starting fourth year. 

Even though the marauders had acted questionably during their early years of exploring their pranking abilities, james had always been full of love. Never hesitating to share it to those he truly cared for. it took lily years to accept this, and more to gain courage and let herself experience it. 

by 7th year, you never believed a love could thrive like that whilst cradled with such young hands until you saw james and lily do it effortlessly. 

so what part of this could’ve made you think otherwise? 

were you to blame for believing in that fantasy, that something like this could be attainable for someone like you, too? 

you had always housed deep adoration and awe for sirius black, like many others, despite his wild reputation and scandalous rumors that seem to always follow when his name gets uttered.

why? Because he was once the raven haired boy who slipped the trolley witch a few sickles when he saw you return the pumpkin pasty after realizing you couldn’t afford it. 

it had been a gloomy tuesday. the trolley witch was supposed to go compartment by compartment, but the bumbling first years seemed to miss that memo and started piling up close to the cart to see what was being sold that she had to force them all in a line. you were quiet and unobtrusive as you stood patiently in line; which was nothing compared the boys’ raucous laughters and animated chatter behind you. sirius would’ve accidentally pushed or stepped on you if he didn’t see your figure. the train was loud and so was james’ mouth, so excited to be away from his parents and to have his first official Hogwarts friend, but sirius also stood close enough to you that he could hear your stomach grumbling and see your arms crossed over your midsection. he admitted once that he found the gurgling sounds funny (like an eleven year old would do) but he didn’t have the heart to poke fun at you because he remembered he’d hear the same thing from his own when his parents would send him to bed without eating. 

even before your turn, you were already overwhelmed at the amount of food and candy available, none of which sounds or looks remotely familiar to what you’ve had growing up. your heartbeat picked up when you heard loud sighs, feet tapping impatiently (both James) snorting and shushing (sirius), and just grabbed something that resembled bread, quickly apologizing to the witch that gave you a kind smile. you hadn’t eaten anything as you rushed to pack the mismatched, secondhand supplies that the headmaster had sent you, and you were dropped off to the station just in time before the train left. your fingers trembled in excitement to finally eat and in hunger as you fished out your coin purse. It took a few seconds before it sunk in that you don’t have enough to buy your pasty. How embarassing. 

You swallowed your tears back, willing the hateful voice in your head to keep quiet for a minute or two, just enough time to put back the pasty and run to your deserted compartment, where you could freely go to town beating yourself up for your stupidity. Just quick enough so no one will notice. 

It took three deep breaths before the dam opened, for the tears to run uncontrollably down your cheeks. You couldn’t even wipe it off because your hands were still clutching your stomach, trying to ease the growling, gnawing pain. Pathetic.

The compartment door opened and you didn’t even hear someone clearing their throat, only looking up when a hand dropped three pasties, a chocolate frog, and a bottle of pumpkin juice on your lap. Barely balancing it, you looked up to see who took pity on you, but only caught a glimpse of stark raven hair and alabaster skin.

you’d find him later during sorting, squeezed between three boys that couldn’t seem to shut up about what house they thought the other would go. not used to kindness, much less from a complete stranger, you hesitated approaching him. but fate always had a weird way of showing you it does listen to your wishes once in a while and you found yourself later on, scooting a bit to your left to make space for him on the bench of your shared house. you both exchanged a knowing smile, and you’d always remember him like that. The kind boy who gave you a feast even without knowing who you were. 

you’d remember that boy when the pouring rain had finally soaked through your thick coat as you waited patiently for him at madam puddifoot’s on your first Valentine’s day. Despite the fact that he was already two hours late and the cafe would be closing soon, you chose to wait. 

you’d remember that kind boy when some mean ravenclaw girls in class would pick on you for the most absurd things, embarrassment coursing through your veins as you looked back at him desperately for some reprieve, only for him to avoid your gaze and continue to guffaw at something James said, effectively ignoring your existence. 

You once asked him why. It was embarrassing how quick he figured out what you were really asking. In fact, he knew a lot of things: that he didn’t deserve your love (or anyone’s for that matter), that someone as pure and selfless as you shouldn’t even associate with the likes of him, and that he was aware of every single thing he does that shatters you whole. He knew that he should tread this conversation gently, to not let his claws rip further skin more than he already has, but the Black darkness has its way of slithering out of the deep recesses he tries to bury it in. 

Words leave him exasperatedly, like he’s not spouting words that cut through skin. “I’d been clear to you right from the start, of what I can give you and what I can’t. You knew what you were getting into, Y/N. you put this onto yourself.” 

He storms back into his dorm before he could hear your quiet sobs echo through the empty common room. 

—-

lily knew in the back of her mind that this wasn’t just a simple, silly request now, but more of an obligation to her closest friend. 

it’s been three weeks. three excruciating weeks to be handed and given and filled with so much love she didn’t need to ask for, whilst seeing her best friend chip away with the lack of, like a once-bright porcelain doll that was abandoned and exposed to the direct heat of the sun. 

you had finally gone silent by last week, like a shut door. refusing to eat, go to class, speak—- hell, lily bets, if you could also not breathe by choice, you wouldn’t. It’s like youre keeping everything you once had given to the world thoughtlessly, close. Dorcas thinks you were keeping close to heart the mundane things that make you alive, to remind yourself that you still are. She had said, like air to a balloon. lily cried herself to sleep that night, the thought of losing such a fundamental part of her life, you, inch by inch, day by day, in front of her very eyes was a haunting, damning thought. Something that she and you both thought would come so much more years later, with unsurmountable memories, many glasses of champagne and slices of cake, wrinkles and smile lines, more laughter and loving hugs exchanged. 

she had thought the silence was a welcoming sign of change. A necessary step towards acceptance and moving on. she was relieved when your crying stopped, tremors leaving your fingers, and there was a chance again for the redness to vacate the whites of your eyes. She held hope that she and the girls can start working on instilling your light back, hopeful that a few months from now their star can find its way back to its rightful place in the sky and everything could be okay once again. 

Lily looked forward to nights that were filled by snores and shuffling of sheets, not the unmistakable sound of your feet on the wooden floors, misjudging that everyone was asleep, the muffled creak of the dorm room door opening and closing, and your footsteps fading in the dark. She’d wait fifteen to thirty minutes (the longest was an hour or two on the first night) before she’d hear you return, footsteps still light but she could hear the slight drag in each step, almost as if it was taking so much of your might to even make it to the bed. the quiet whimpers would start, followed by muffled hiccups lily knew only happens when you cry too hard. it took so much of her to exercise self-restraint, to keep herself on her own bed and not lay beside you and hug you as if it’s something that could put you back together. 

She has to turn her back on you even if it felt like raw betrayal. 

Because that one time she didn’t, she couldn’t forget the look of horror, dejection, desperation, and pure unbridled embarrassment on your face when you realized she knew what you were up to late at night. She knew you came up to the boys’ dormitory, crawling into sirius’ bed, where you begged and begged for him to take you back, that you’ll be a better more doting and loving girlfriend this time around, that you won’t be too attached this time and will give him the necessary space and time he needs so he doesn’t feel suffocated, that you’ll be anything, do anything just for him to welcome you back into his arms and whisper sweet nothings in your ear until your throat was raw, and sirius has to physically take you back to the start of the staircase to your dormitory. 

this happened for days and days on end until the boys had to lock their door at night, or whenever sirius is in. 

james couldn’t meet lily’s eyes when he’d ask for her help to keep you apart from Sirius as it would do you no good. they had gotten into a fight because of this, because lily heard nothing but  ‘stop her from making a fool of herself’ and her best friend is the smartest intuitive empathetic kindest witch she had ever met; the farthest thing from a fool. 

But one day those very words came off your lips with a hollow laugh. “But I am a fool, Lily. No one in their right mind would even do half the things I do.” It would be hypocritical for lily to deny sneaking out at night and crawling into your ex’s bed and begging for him to take you back as something of a desperate fool would do. A girl once had chased and pined for Remus during the entirety of fifth year and the things she did to get his attention were laughable at that time. But she didn’t plan to see the same, even worse, done by her best friend, and she still couldn’t wouldn’t call you a fool.

After all, your only fault was that you loved. And that shouldn’t even be a fault because that’s what she did with James, marlene with dorcas, her father with her mother. even someone as selfish as petunia could find love and be loved right back. 

you of all people deserved to love and be loved right back after everything you’d been through, and james would say the same thing for sirius as well. 

but sirius was a complex person, lily could recite this on top of her head from endless times where you stood your ground, defending sirius’ honor like he’d see your great martyrdom and suddenly consider you once again worthy of his love and affection. Before, she knew of sirius as a friend and James’ brother— but she knew more than what she signed up for because you’d fill in the gaps for her when she’d try to beat some sense into you during the unacceptable treatment you’d accept from sirius. 

You’d say with such confidence “he loves me, he’s just going through a lot right now, especially after that howler his mother sent him a few days ago.”

You didn’t have to elaborate, lily remembered that day vividly, not because of the way sirius’ face fell when the howler began its assault had reminded her so much of how she’d react after getting bitter letters from petunia, but because that same day she saw sirius being manhandled by a hufflepuff, both kiss sick and all over each other, into a secluded broom closet. 

It was years worth of push or pulls, of moral dilemmas that would get the outspoken redhead to choke on her words, and dejectedly sweep them under the rug out of your sight. Because the beaming smile and flushed cheeks you’d sport when Sirius murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, the weight on your shoulders dissipating when tucked in his arms, the jump in your step whenever he’d kiss you on the forehead and wish you good luck for the day— Lily couldn’t bear the thought of robbing you with those moments of bliss, even when it’s all done in private. 

So in an empty classroom on a gloomy Tuesday afternoon, she points her wand at you, fingers trembling and tears trailing down her cheeks, but you don’t see any of these. Instead, your beautiful features wear a serene expression that weakens lily’s knees. Oh how she missed her dearest friend. She’d do anything in the world to get you back, hold your hand, and dance with you in the autumn rain. 

So she does the wand movement like she practiced for days and takes a breath. She pictures you and Sirius happily dancing barefoot during the yule ball, your blushed cheeks when you told her about the feel of his lips on yours for the first time, you on sirius’ shoulders as you carried the quidditch cup, both smiling big as remus snaps a picture from the muggle camera, you drifting off to sleep on sirius’ shoulder while your hands were laced as you rode the train back to hogwarts.

Before mumbling the incantation, obliviate.

[chironshorseass]

ok i really really really enjoyed watching the first two episodes and i think the show is already so faithful to the books in ways the movies wished they were BUT i’m gonna be a bitch just because i can and rant about a few insignificant but at the same time very important Things the writers didn’t Understand:

percy is angry.

and i know this is seen with his anger towards poseidon in the show, but i’m talking angry. as in, generally speaking. when he’s with grover and they’re talking about nancy, percy says something along the lines of “we should fight back,” and grover’s like “noooo we can’t stand up to bullies.” and then percy stands up to her and blah blah blah…but in the books percy’s first line is “i’m going to kill her” after she throws a sandwich at grover. grover talks him out of it because he’s already on probation.

with just this scene we know percy stands up to bullies, and that’s partly why he has so much trouble at school! in the show, he stands up to nancy, apparently for the first time, and gets kicked out because of it! sorry but as someone who worked in a school, i know for a fact that kids can get away with so much more before they’re actually kicked out lol. it would’ve made sense, like in tlt, that he’s already at risk of suspension so him “pushing” nancy is the final straw. it’s just very weird, considering it could be only a line of dialogue that makes percy’s anger and the connection between his outburst and him getting kicked out more clear.

consequently, percy arrives at his appartment and gabe is just a general (still admittedly abusive) jerk instead of a drunk, violent (also abusive) man. when we meet gabe, it makes a lot of sense why percy has so much trouble with his anger. it’s easy to see that connection. literal child + alcoholic abusive father figure = there’s bound to be some trouble….that’s not really the case in the show, especially in the way that sally easily stands up to him. people have said a fair bit about this topic already, so i’m not gonna expand on that, but i really wish the writers had focused more on percy’s internal anger, as it’s such an important part of his character and affects the way he reacts to things throughout the books; it just worries me that in the first episode it wasn’t as established. i. e. he hates dionysus on sight because he reminds him of smelly gabe, he hates the gods—is angry at poseidon—because, where was he when my mom and i were suffering at the hands of smelly gabe? ok i’m not gonna talk about more of this or of sally because other people have said it and i could write a four page essay of what the show got wrong plus i want to talk abt other things before this gets too long:

the monster scenes.

the mrs. dodds being a fury reveal felt sooo…weird? even the movie version did it better lol. it felt super rushed and strange how percy’s just standing there and the next he’s on the ground, but he had riptide with him so he just impaled her and then she turned to dust??? in the books, not only does she get percy alone, but grover tries to stand up to her—which is a big deal since he knows what she truly is and shows how much he cares for percy in that moment. percy has time to be genuinely terrified bc he’s alone with a literal monster and he’s about to die…and chiron throws him riptide just in time, but then he too vanishes so percy’s left wondering if he imagined everything. but no, in the show mrs. dodds comes out of nowhere and attacks him, and it’s so fast that percy doesn’t have time to dwell on wtf happened. the situation doesn’t seem as serious as it does in the book; in the book she tries to interrogate percy bc she thinks he’s the lightning thief, and when she doesn’t get her answer, she attacks him. this is another thing: the stakes. they don’t feel as high in the show because there’s no annabeth trying to ask percy what was stolen, no hellhound, no fates cutting a string, and no alecto/mrs. dodds interrogation. there’s not much of a lead up to the quest, really.

theeen the minotaur scene, which also feels super weirdly paced and there’s just not that same sense of urgency. again, other people have talked about this, so i’ll just stick to another main concern of mine: grover’s role in the scene. it was so strange how in the book he’s semi unconscious and in the show he’s fine (so fine that sally does something completely out of character and makes grover swear to keep percy safe? she would never put that much pressure in a child???) ok so he seems fine in the show, but then when they’re running percy’s holding him as if he can’t walk???? they’re not even fully sprinting, given that a monster is chasing them lol. (the problem with the stakes; i mean with the way they run and have an entire talk with sally makes it feel like they’re not in any real danger).

back to grover: he was perfectly fine, and he got percy back safe. not at all like in tlt, where percy has to practically carry him back, after loosing his mom and killing the minotaur. THEN percy passes out and later wakes up at the big house. this is important, bc grover’s entire THING is being percy’s protector, and he couldn’t do that properly bc he was indisposed. he felt awful. of course he did. his character arc is overcoming the guilt and insecurities—that he’s not a proper protector and therefore can’t search for pan; his main character motivation—by successfully completing the quest and helping percy retrieve the master bolt.

these are just little seeds that needed to be planted in the first two episodes of the show…so that the rest of the show feels cohesive and makes sense with what happens in tlt. if these character traits and scenes are looked over and not given proper importance/not replaced with something similar, then the show will have a different tone than it does to the books. i don’t think it’s necessarily bad, but it is disappointing that the details sprinkled in the source material are lost in translation. they may have seemed insignificant to the writers, but not to meeee!!!!!!

[plathfiles]

Ok but what if Felix x fem!reader and Oliver is tryin to kill her first yk but fails like maybe Felix walks in and Oliver tries to lie n cover it up type of thing or that reader just ended up in a small coma? Am I ok to request this?

please i love this, honestly a sucker for angst so thank you for sending this to me 😵🫶🏻

i hope you enjoy xx

❧❧❧❧

pairing: felix catton x fem! reader

warnings: attempted murder, physical abuse, angst but with a happy ending, oliver is his own warning. lmk if i missed anything

masterlist

You had found out Oliver’s secret. He was lying to Felix and everyone about his family.

One day you and Oliver were sun bathing, waiting for Felix to return from a discussion with Farleigh. Oliver was wondering what was taking so long so he went over to where they were. He’d left his phone on his chair and it started to ring.

It was his mother. Curious, you answered the call. That was when you found out everything. The lie about his Father, his financial status, everything. You were in shock and also angry. How dare Oliver take advantage of Felix like that. How dare he take advantage of your friendship.

You planned to confront him and that’s exactly what you went to do. Walking back into the castle, you saw Oliver walking up the stairs.

“Hey Ollie!” You shouted. He turned around and looked at you with confusion. You tossed him his flip phone.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You asked, your protective side coming out.

“Y/n, you’re acting strange. I don’t know what you mean?” Oliver said, although on the inside he was nervous.

Oliver and you were both on the stair case, he was above you and you were closer to the ledge.

“I know you lied. I know everything! About your father and where you come from. You’re a fucking liar, Ollie,” you said, looking up at him defensively.

With him being on the stairs, he was taller than you. Oliver walked down a couple steps, to match your eyesight.

“How could you have possibly found out?” Oliver asked, his voice now lower and more intense. It wasn’t a denial and you took a step back.

“Your mother called. She wanted to send you a card for your birthday,” you snapped.

“You should be careful. You might trip,” Oliver said. He needed to get rid of you. Or else you would mess up his plans.

You stood your ground, “I’m going to tell Felix. In fact I’m going to tell everyone,” you said lowly, looking directly into Ollie’s eyes.

In an instant, Oliver’s hand went around your neck, choking you. “You are not going to tell a soul. Is that clear?” He asked, almost teasingly.

You panicked and tried to pull away from him, but when you did you fell down the bottom of the stairs. Everything went pitch black.

At that moment, Felix and Farleigh had walked into the room. Farleigh only saw you fall but Felix saw Oliver’s hand around your throat and then saw you collapse down the stairs.

Felix’s heart broke, seeing you unconscious at the bottom of the stairs.

“Oh my god! did you push you her?” Farleigh yelled in shock.

Oliver looked at Farleigh and Felix. “It was an accident. She was going to attack me,” Oliver said, trying to play the victim.

Felix didn’t care though, he knew what he saw. And he wanted answers. But first you need to go a hospital.

“Y/n, baby please wake up,” Felix said, hovering over you on his knees. He lifted your head up and some of your body but you were out cold.

“Felix I—,” Oliver began to say, but Felix looked up at him in pure anger.

“Go. Now. Before I do something I’ll have to cover up,” Felix threatened. If looks could kill then Oliver would be a dead man.

Farleigh called Elsbeth and Sir James and the family immediately called the fastest doctor they could find.

That was the thing about being rich, you could get anything delivered to you at any time.

One of the guest rooms was turned into a hospital room. You still hadn’t woken up and Felix wouldn’t leave your side. The doctor said you weren’t in grave danger. But just in a small coma because of the impact of your head hitting the stone floor and the loss of oxygen from being choked.

Felix was angry at Oliver. Oliver had went to his room after Felix threatened him. Duncan had locked the door.

Felix would get his answers soon. But he knew he wouldn’t believe Oliver in the slightest. He had no right to put his hands on you.

Felix stayed by your side the entire night. You still hadn’t woken up and he was worried you never would. He took your hand and squeezed it comfortingly, he needed you to know that he was by your side.

Then, as if you’d felt Felix’s touch, you slowly opened your eyes.

“Felix,” you said, your voice soft and hoarse.

Felix’s heart leaped and he smiled when you awoke. “Y/n, darling. I’m here,” he said, softly.

“Felix,” you said, beginning to cry. You thought you were going to die. You didn’t know Oliver could do those horrible things.

“Shh it’s okay, lovely girl. I got you. You are safe,” Felix comforted. “I’m not going to let anybody hurt you,” he insisted.

Your stomach filled with butterflies and a small wave of comfort washed over you.

“But Oliver—he, he’s not who you say he is,” You said, looking at Felix like you would need hours to convince him.

But Felix wanted him out of the house for just purely putting his hands on you. When hearing this though, Felix raised a brow.

“How do you mean?” He asked. And you explained. The call with his mother, the confused questions you asked when you heard that his father really wanted to see Oliver.

Felix’s face broke and grew in concern. He felt like an idiot. How could he have put his trust in such a person? How could he have let someone like him anywhere near you?

“I’m so sorry, Felix. I know you two are close,” you said, tears streaming delicately down your face.

Felix shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I should apologize to you. I’ll fix this. We’ll have Oliver out of the house by the end of the day,”

“And when we return to Oxford?” You asked, Felix wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumb.

“We won’t see him back at Oxford, I promise,” Felix replied. “Get some rest. I’ll be right here and I’ll protect you.”

You nodded and closed your eyes. As soon as you fell asleep, Felix called his father into the room. Felix never left your side but told his father that Oliver needed to be removed from the house and a restraining order needed to be placed on him.

Felix would never let anything like this happen again. Not to the people he loves—especially you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

The time when your father is out of the house is always the most peaceful. All the same, the anticipation of his return keeps you on edge. You never really know when he’ll be back. He could be gone for days at a time or only a few hours. With news of his new out-of-town assignment, you can at least breathe for a moment. 

He leaves without a goodbye. The word sentimental has never been used in the same vicinity as your father. You and your sisters watch him go, less forlorn than you may appear. Relief washes over you as the door closes. 

“Can we go shopping now?” Adrienne asks. She’s the youngest at eighteen. 

“We should,” you say. “Kitty, you have the money?” 

“In my purse,” the eldest assures you. Kitty, thought your mother always insisted on her full name, Katherine, is almost thirty and wears it plainly. “More than enough.” 

“We should try to buy extra in case he waits again,” you say. 

“Yeah, you always are the most practical.” 

“Can we go to the bakery?” Adrienne asks. Mr. Mulano gave me some money the other day for helping her air out her townhouse. You wouldn’t imagine the dust. I still have a rash.” 

“If you have the money,” Kitty resigns. 

“I do and I want to spend it on us. We’ll get canolis. They were always ma’s favourite.” 

You give a glum smile. Kitty is the most like your mother. The sweetest. Always thinking of others. And she looks like her too. It’s probably why you and Adrienne get in front of her when the storm starts or even why your father doesn’t tend to go after her as much as you. 

And she took your mother’s death the hardest. You grieve more for the life she lived than the life that she lost. She had a monstrous husband and three helpless daughters. She spent her days scrounging despite having a made man and was battered to the bone in trying to protect what little she had. When she died, there was no shield left between you and your father’s temper. 

“Yes, let’s go to the bakery,” you agree. “I’ll pay for coffee. I have some change in my purse.” 

You get dressed in a carefully picked outfit. It’s warm out but you wear a long-sleeved white blouse. You balance it with a tea-length beige skirt. The shirt covers the bruises mostly, though you have to blend a bit of makeup around your neck and your face as always is painted to hide the darker spots. Not much can be done for the split in your lip. 

You go out and the sunshine feels warmer than usual. That shadow still looms. His shadow. No, not your father’s. Barnes’. You’re as embarrassed as you are terrified. Why did you do that? Your father? Dead? You must have seemed so naive. That’s not how it works. 

You shrug it off and go about your day. It’s a rare occasion that you can just enjoy being with your sisters. You do the shopping first. You fill the cart with all you need, and a few extra staples just in case, then go to the bakery. 

Nova is always busy and for good reason. They have more than just coffee cakes and pastries. They have a full sit-in deli and coffee roasted in Sicily. 

You offer to sit with the cart as Kitty and Adrienne stand in line. Kitty wants to look at the delicately iced specials through the glass and Adrienne wants to be sure she only gets decaf. You’re all too happy to have a seat. 

You sit with one hand on the cart and the other on your purse. You look down at the worn leather. The brown bag was your mothers. You didn’t get a lot of what she left behind. Your father threw most of it out, though you know he hawked her jewelry when he got his new car. As much as he proclaims his love for her, he doesn’t show it otherwise. 

The bell above the door rings amidst the buzz of the closed space. They’ll have to open the windows soon to let the heat escape. You glance over carelessly at the new entrance. You snap up straight as your eyes meet the bright blue ones. As if looking for you, the boss finds you, a calm, unreadable expression beneath his dark beard. 

You stare back at him and squeeze the strap of the purse. He fixes his tie and nods his head at you. Your lashes flick in surprise. Then, he faces the horde as they start to quiet. Those ahead of him take notice nd hush, stepping aside to let him through. 

Kitty gasps as Adrienne grabs her arm and moves her away from the front of the line, giving up their turn for the mafioso strutting toward them. He stops before he reaches the counter. The entire place watches. 

“Go on, ladies,” he insists, “it’s on me.” 

You blink and shrink back against the metal frame of the chair. Your sisters don’t move at first and when they do, they use the same caution as when your dad’s huffing and puffing in the corner. They speak to the cashier in low tones and turn to Barnes. They thank him with their hands clutched. 

He placidly puts in his own order and digs out his wallet. The cashier tries to wave him off but he insists. You only catch a few words from your vantage. 

He gets his coffee first and box of pastries. You never imagined him having much of a sweet tooth. The sight of this deadly man in his dark suit in this place is absurd. He doesn’t come to collect the protection fee, men like your father do. No, he’s there for a coffee and dessert. At least, you can’t believe that it would be for any other reason. Especially not you 

It can’t be. 

He turns and struts out without a look back. You stare after him as a low murmur crawls through the bakery. You peek through the window as he passes. His blue eyes glint in your direction and his cheek dimples. Your world is small, too small for coincidences. You’re starting to think there’s more going on than just a job out of town. 

[wanderingsoul6261]

He did What?

Credit for gif goes to k-wame

James Beaufort x Reader

synopsis: Requested by an Anon. Mortimer hits Y/N, and Percy takes her to James. Reader and James have been in a long running relationship.

This fic is significantly shorter than some of my others.

warnings: physical abuse

“A father should never treat his kids like you do James and Lydia. You’re a monster." Y/N wasn't sure where it came from, but she knew that she should have had more self-restraint. 

A crack sounded out and Y/N's head whipped to the side. Shock and surprise filled her body and her left ear started ringing. She could hear Percy scrambling to her, having come to take her to James at Cyril's after a miscommunication caused her chauffeur to leave her at the Beauforts's Manor. It was there she ran into Mortimer Beaufort, and obviously, the interaction had turned sour. 

Y/N would agree now that she probably shouldn't have said what she said, especially to the man before her. However, she would definitely say That she didn't believe she deserved the slap she received. It didn't matter what she did or didn't say. She could have said worse and silently thanked herself for not doing so. 

“You don't have the right to speak to me in such a way.” Mortimer scowled. She opened her mouth to retort back, but was immediately pulled away by Percy. 

Percy guided her towards the car, her body shivering as the shock dissipated and her body filled with adrenaline. After helping her into the car, he sent a quick message to James. 

Your father struck Y/N- P

Y/N sat silently the entire ride to Cyril's house. She normally made polite talk with Percy, with or without James in the car, but at the moment, she was too upset. Mostly at herself, for not having the self restraint to stop herself from saying what she did. But she was also upset at Mortimer himself, for thinking he could treat people in such a way that he has been. 

But that's the rich for you. They treat people however they feel like it. 

She looked out the window, her eyes watching as the trees and building passed. Percy had looked back at her through the rearview mirror. He took notice of the red welt on her face where Mortimer had hit her. Percy knew James had seen his message, but the Beaufort twin never responded. Taking in a deep breath, and letting it out slowly, he was already preparing himself for a very angry James. 

Time had gone by quickly in the car. Y/N blinked as they pulled up to Cyril’s home, her eyes finding James out in the front, already waiting for them. She looked into the front seat, noticing Percy already looking at her. Letting out a quick sigh, she prepared herself as James came over, not waiting for Percy to open the door for her. 

“Y/N-”

“I’m fine.” There was no hiding the red welt on her face. It stayed, even after the drive from the Beaufort Manor to Cyril’s home. His eyes made quick work of finding it. He sucked in a breath. When Percy texted him to let him know what had happened, he had hoped that it was some sick joke, but the bad part about it all? James believed that his father would do such a thing before he even saw the mark on her face. 

“How is that fine? My father-” He stopped. Y/N knew he was stewing in anger. His weren’t the only thing that gave away his current round up of emotions. He kept clenching his fists and running his hands through his hair. Amongst being angry at his father, he was upset and frustrated. Upset that he hadn’t been there to protect her. Frustrated with his life. “I ought to-” 

“No. James. Going back there and confronting him is going to fix things. It’s better that he thinks that you don’t know.” Her hands weaved into his own, preventing him from clenching his fists. I shouldn’t even have said what I did.” 

“Doesn’t mean that you deserved to be struck in the way that you did!” James argued. 

“I asked for it.” 

“Y/N.” The two stood still, staring at each other. They were silent for several moments. Y/N had pulled her hands away from his, picking at her fingers in anxiousness. He grabbed them back, stopping her from doing so. They were drowning in silence.

  “What did you say to him that got his panties in a twist?” He asked finally. Y/N looked up at him, before walking past him and sitting on the front steps of the house. He followed behind her, the two of them watching as Percy parked the car away from the front. Percy would be there still when they needed him. 

“Told him that a father wouldn’t treat his kids in such a way that he does with you and Lydia. That he was a monster.” She mumbled softly. James looked over at her. She currently had her head bowed, hair covering her face. Y/N had defended him and his sister. The woman he loved stood up for him and Lydia when almost no one else would. His heart beat for the selfless soul sitting next to him. 

James wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him. 

“You don’t have to defend me and Lydia.” Y/N turned her head abruptly to look at him. 

“But-” 

“I appreciate what you did. No one ever stands up to my father.” James finished her sentence for her. “I appreciate you, Y/N.” His hands grasped her cheeks. “But please, don’t do anything like that again. Not if the price is you getting punished for it.” Y/N blinked a few times, having no choice but to stare James in his face. She finally nodded. "I can't bear the knowledge of you getting hurt."

“Okay.” She mumbled softly. 

“Promise?” He asked, peering into her eyes.

“Promise.” James pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“Good. Now I’m going to text my parents and tell them I’m staying the night at Cyril’s, and then we are going back to your place.” James’ voice was authoritative. There was no room for debate. But when the end of the night finally came, and James and Y/N were at her own home, in her own bed, she didn’t mind it. With James holding her against him, murmuring soft words of endearment into her ears, she didn’t want anything else. 

And as she fell asleep, feeling James press a soft kiss to the crown of her head, she knew one thing. 

Even if she did make a promise to James, she would always stick up for him and Lydia, no matter what.

She just wished that she had done it more often in the past few years that she has been in their lives.

-----

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