#a lily girl not made for this world’s pain

[petaltexturedskies]

Oscar Wilde, from "Madonna Mia" originally wr. 1881

[ellecdc]

mother!!!! that recent poly!marauders + lily fic had me WEAK. if you please, could you write a part two where shy!reader finds out remus is a werewolf? I could see rem really not wanting her to find out bc he doesn’t want to scare her, but maybe severus(or somebody) spills the beans thinking she already knew, or she overheard a conversation between the boys. she’d be accepting of course, but remus freaks out when she finds out. just a lot of comfort and reassurance.

hope that gives you some inspiration, also, totally don’t have to write it if you don’t want to, of course!!! ilysm 🖤💚

I took this in a bit of a different direction but the ending's just the same! thanks so much sweets <3 <3

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4 // pt 5

4.6k words

poly!marauders + lily x shy!reader who learns about Remus' furry little problem

CW: miscommunication trope, insecurities, angst [with a happy ending], reader is feeling incredibly insecure in this fic, James cries, Sirius cries a little bit too but they all pretend not to notice for his sake

You felt terribly foolish; no, you felt worse. You felt absolutely humiliated and you had no one to blame but yourself.

And now that you were here - ‘here’ being rushing to the dungeons to lock yourself in the Hufflepuff dormitories for the next foreseeable future - you aren’t sure how you had convinced yourself that this was going to end any other way. 

It was a pipedream at best, thinking you had any place amongst the infamous Marauders and the princess of Gryffindor, and it was delusional at worst. 

Of course they’d grow weary of you, of course they’d find your nerves and anxiety tiresome, of course they’d wind up bored of accommodating you when they were all so much more than you. 

What had you been thinking? How did you manage to allow yourself to believe that this was anything but a phase for them - they saw you as a challenge, they beat the challenge, and now they were through with you. 

You thought that the sweet looks, the kisses, the affection, the effort all meant more than it obviously did.

At least to them.

To you, it meant the world.

To them, it was a chore.

You were a chore.

Foolish girl. 

You had been on your way to the library to meet up with the boys and Lily to study for the upcoming Herbology test. It was the first real group ‘date’ after the sketchiness that usually followed Remus about once a month that no one else seemed inclined to comment on, so neither did you.

Except…except, this time, some lingering tension seemed to follow the bout of sketchiness. 

And still, no one seemed particularly inclined to comment on it.

And you couldn’t help but feel like you were out of the loop somehow, but you chalked that up to being a newer addition to the dynamic, and not living with them in Gryffindor tower.

That is until you happened to be walking out of their view behind the stacks of books that their table was situated by when you overheard their conversation. 

“You’re going to have to say something to her, Rem. This is getting out of hand.” You heard Lily say solemnly, earning her a pained groan from Remus’ lips, causing you to pause behind the stacks so as to not interrupt their conversation.

“Can’t we just ignore this? Just for a little longer?” Remus bargained. “I mean, it can’t be that bad?”

“It’s worse, Moons.” Sirius corrected. 

“Y/N’s so sensitive though.” James added. “I mean, how would that conversation even go? How do you tell her something like that?”

“It has to come from Remus.” Lily stated matter-of-factly. 

Remus let out a long-suffering sigh. “And how do you suggest I go about this?”

“Listen.” Sirius asserted. “I don’t bloody care how we tell her, but we have to say something. I cannot keep living like this; it’s exhausting.”

Lily made a tsking sound and placed a consoling hand on Sirius’ shoulder as Remus let out another sigh.

“I know, I know; I’m sorry you guys. I thought we could ignore it but…I don’t think we can anymore.”

Lily, Sirius, and James all made a hum of acknowledgement.

“I think we ought to just rip the bandaid off and hope she understands.” Lily said.

You felt your stomach migrate to your throat as you turned on your heels and fled the library.

Is that what all the tension was about? Is that what this library study date was? Just a ruse to sit you down so they could break up with you?

Of course it was, idiot. You scolded yourself.  They were foolish to entertain the likes of you for any amount of time. 

So now you were here - ‘here’ being rushing to the dungeons to lock yourself in the Hufflepuff dormitories for the next foreseeable future - and you aren’t sure how you had convinced yourself that this was going to end any other way. 

“Do you think I should do it tonight?” Remus asked Lily as she finally sat down. 

“I think it would be best if we did, sweetheart. I just can’t help feeling like we’re keeping her at arms length by keeping it a secret, you know?”

“I agree.” Sirius said quickly. “It feels like she’s more of a guest than actually part of the relationship whilst we’re keeping something so big from her.” 

“I just don’t want her to hate me.” Remus admitted in a whisper.

“Remmy.” James cooed from the other side of Sirius. “Our sweet little Puffle seems completely incapable of hatred. But you know we’ve got your back 110% if she’s not accepting of you, right?”

The other two nodded in agreement but Remus only grimaced. “It just feels like I’d be ruining the relationship for all of you if the only person she has a problem with is me.” 

“Impossible.” Sirius replied emphatically. “Anyone who has a problem with you has a problem with us, Moons.”

“Even if we weren’t dating, Rem, if someone didn’t respect my friend - or anyone, for that matter - because of their lycanthropy, I wouldn’t want them around anyways.” Lily agreed.

“I don’t think we’ll have a problem, though.” Sirius continued. “Like Prongs said, she’s our sweet girl; I’m sure she’ll handle this fine.”

“Where is she, anyway?” James said, flipping his wrist to check his watch. “She was supposed to meet us like twenty minutes ago.” 

The other three shared a look of bemusement. 

“Do you have the map?” Sirius asked.

James quickly pulled the map from his book bag to scan the parchment for your name. “It says she’s in the Hufflepuff common room?”

“Maybe she forgot?” Lily mused.

“I spoke to her at dinner; she said she was going to change out of her uniform and then meet us here.” Remus replied, feeling his heart rise to his throat with nerves. 

What if she knew? What if she already found out? What if she hated him? 

“Rem, it’s alright.” Lily placated, clearly seeing his concern etched onto his face. “Maybe she wasn’t feeling well, or got caught up with something else.”

“She’s never bailed on us before…” James admitted, looking just as worried as Remus was. “Maybe we should check on her?”

“Why don’t we give her tonight; I think after all the shite we put her through this week, she’s allotted one missed date.” Sirius decided, opting to keep his tone light as he teased Remus for his ‘pre-moon angstiness’ as his partners call it.   

“We’ll catch up with her tomorrow.” Lily decided; and Remus and James shared a look of concern as they relented to study for the upcoming Herbology test without you. 

You weren’t really mad at the Gryffindor’s for their decision to end things with you; at least not at first.

People were allowed to change their minds, and you supposed that was the purpose of dating, right? To see if the person you’re interested in is someone you want to keep around indefinitely?

So, people were allowed to change their mind, and that was okay.

You also couldn’t particularly blame them; you were shy, quiet, timid, awkward in most social settings and certainly not as adventurous as them, it was only a matter of time before they grew bored of you. 

So you hadn’t been mad at them, not at first. 

But you were growing increasingly annoyed at their attempts to force themselves within your space. 

You had opted to sit at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast the next morning; there was no sense sitting at the Gryffindor table with them anymore.

But then you couldn’t handle the feeling of your heart splintering every time you heard Sirius’ bark of laughter or Lily’s giggle at something Remus said or that James did. So you quickly scarfed down your toast and grabbed a muffin to shove in your bag before fleeing from the Great Hall.

What you didn’t notice was James noticing you only as you were leaving, looking incredibly worried.

You nearly shrieked when you exited your Astronomy class that you had with the Ravenclaws and slammed into Sirius’ frame.

“There you are, dolly! We missed you this morning!” He proclaimed as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

You quickly collected yourself; heart racing from the scare and then quickly migrating to your throat out of embarrassment and hurt at this familiarity you had with him only to be about to lose it.

“Sorry, I had been running late.” You said quickly as you headed for the stairs; the long-haired boy quickly keeping up with your steps. 

“Were you feeling alright?” He asked you.

“How do you mean?”

Sirius tilted his head slightly as he considered you. “Well, you didn’t show up to the library last night, and then you were running late this morning; that’s not like you.”

A hot frustrated emotion burned in your chest that you weren’t completely accustomed to feeling. 

Wasn’t he the one to say he couldn’t live like this anymore?

It wasn’t fair of you to be frustrated though, which frustrated you even more; he didn’t know that you had shown up to the library last night, nor that you had gotten to the Great Hall on time.

They hadn’t even noticed you this morning. 

And that’s why they were ending things; you were forgettable, ignorable, unnoticeable. 

“I’m fine, Sirius. Thank you.” You said simply, and quickly headed for the girl’s loo in order to shake him off. 

Remus had approached you in Care of Magical Creatures as well, which somehow hurt more.

Perhaps it was because you knew he was going to be the one to tell you that things were over; though you had thought he’d be better than to break up with you in the middle of class. 

“Hey, dove.” He said as he gently nudged your arm with his elbow; watching as you groomed the puffskein on your table. 

“Hey, Remus.” You said quietly, not removing your eyes from the Beast you were working with.

“I missed you last night.” He admitted quietly. 

Did you? You thought petulantly. 

“Sorry.” You murmured instead. 

“You don’t have to be sorry.” He said as he leaned his elbows on your workbench; if it had been any other student, you’re certain Professor O’Brien would have scolded him for not handling the beasts with adequate caution, but Remus seemed to be allowed certain privileges and the puffskein “Kujo” didn’t seem to mind him much. “I just missed you is all.” 

And he was smiling that sweet, soft smile at you and he seemed like he actually meant it which only further contributed to your ire. 

What happened to ripping the bandaid off? Why keep up this affectionate act if it was only going to end?

Remus looked like he was going to say something when the Professor announced the end of class. 

“I’ll catch up with you later.” You offered quickly before you all but threw Kujo back into his pen and took off towards the castle.

The final straw had to be Herbology, though.

You shared Herbology with the Gryffindors, and because you were a new addition - your the four Gryffindor’s all shared a potting bench whilst you worked alongside another Hufflepuff.

Today, however, it appeared that James had other plans.

Before Sadie-Jane could take her seat beside you, James had plopped himself - rather carefully for the notoriously boisterous quidditch chaser, mind you - on the stool beside you.

“Hey, angel.”

Again, with the pet names. 

It felt torturous at this point; part of you wanted to rip the bandaid off yourself.

But you looked over at the sweet, warm, inviting face of James Potter and any resolve to tell him to shove it completely dissipated. He was all messy curls, round frames, and warm eyes.

And you might have been [must have been] mistaken, but you felt you could see anxiety and worry painted in his features.

You supposed breaking up with someone could do that to a person, though.

“Hi Jamie.” You whispered back as you opted to ready your supplies for today’s lesson.

“I was wondering if you were going to come to the game tonight?” He blurted then, looking slightly embarrassed at his outburst. 

Right…the game. The game against Slytherin. The game that would have you sitting between Remus and Lily as they cheered for James and Sirius. That game. 

“I...uhm, well…”

Rip the bandaid off. 

But it was James. 

And you were in class.

And you could see Lily and Remus trying - and failing - to not look like they were watching you and James whilst Sirius had no such qualms and was actively staring at the two of you. 

“Yeah, I’ll…I’ll see.” You offered James, mustering up what you hoped was a convincing enough smile.

You could tell by the divot that appeared in James’ brows that you were not convincing in the slightest.

Thankfully Professor Sprout appeared then, instructing everyone to take their seats for class to begin, and Sadie-Jane came to claim her seat from the Gryffindor. 

You didn’t go to the game that night.

Gryffindor lost. 

And though you didn’t know at the time, James cried, but it wasn’t about losing to Slytherin. 

“So, why are you hiding in the dorms?” Caroline asked as she rolled away from her open magazine on her bed, clearly preferring potential drama you could offer her than whatever was in this week's Witch Weekly. 

“I’m not hiding.” You muttered back, not looking up from your cross-stitch you were working on instead of, you know, dealing with your problems. 

“Right.” Caroline agreed, not sounding like she agreed with you at all. “That’s why you’ve started and quit several hobbies over the weekend and have been going to the kitchen’s to grab food instead of eating in the Great Hall like a normal person.”

You looked over at your half finished gem ‘paint-by-numbers’, the scarf you’d crocheted that looked more like the skin of a messed up snake that had a terrible time shedding, and the guitar you had borrowed from Fenwick and nearly broke in a fit of rage when you couldn’t get it to sound the way you wanted it too.

“I just…can’t face them right now.” You admitted dejectedly.

“I don’t blame you. Helga, have you seen the lot of them? If I’d known they were accepting more I would have made my shot.” She mused as she laid back on her bed.

Grief and jealousy intertwined within you as you thought about them dating anyone else but you.

But you supposed that was their prerogative; they were allowed to change their minds. 

“Yeah well, you may still have a chance.” You muttered, capturing Caroline’s attention.

“What?” She asked quickly, but you didn’t have a chance to answer before there was a knock on the door. 

“Were you expecting anyone?” She asked with a salacious wink, causing you to glare at her.

“If it’s them, I’m not here; please.” You practically begged your roommate as she rolled her eyes and moved to the door to your dorm room. 

“Oh, hello Evans.” Caroline greeted, causing you to scrunch your eyes closed from your place currently hidden from view of the door. 

“Hi! Erm, is Y/N around?” Lily asked, sounding uncharacteristically awkward.

“Uh…no, she’s not in right now. I can let her know you stopped by, though?” Caroline offered.

You heard Lily thank her before Caroline closed the door again. 

“You sure you don’t want them? ‘Cause those Gryffindor’s are fine.” She sighed as she returned to her bed.

She let out a squawk when your pillow made contact with her head. 

Lily stepped out through the barrel to find Sirius and Remus exactly where she had left them (albeit far more tense) as James came running from down the hall where he had been pacing nervously. 

“Well?” James asked.

Lily pursed her lips. “Her roommate said she wasn’t there.”

Remus looked down at the map to the place where your name was etched beside your roommate’s in the seventh year Hufflepuff girls’ dormitory. 

Either the map was faulty [fat chance], or you were avoiding them.

It was official. 

For whatever reason, they were losing you. 

You had somehow managed to avoid the Gryffindor’s all Monday; taking a moment to thank every deity that you only had Divination with the Gryffindor house, and none of your Gryffindor’s had opted to take it.

You wondered if you could call them your Gryffindor’s anymore…

You had run over to the kitchens - all but a hop skip and a jump from your common room - to grab dinner and were stepping back out through the portrait of the pears when you came face to face with Sirius.

“So nice to see you, Y/N; I’d almost forgotten what your face looked like.” He said; his tone taking on a harsh tone you weren’t accustomed to hearing directed at you causing you to wince.

“Pads…” Remus warned from behind him, though he was looking at you just as warily as Sirius was.

As was James and Lily.

Shit. 

“I’m glad to see you’re still eating…” Remus commented dejectedly as he nodded towards your smorgasbord of a plate that Winky had helped prepare for you that now looked horribly unappetising. 

“I…yes. Erm, what are you guys doing here?” You tried.

It had, apparently, been the wrong thing to say.

Sirius let out a derisive scoff. “Cut the bullshit, Y/N. What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Sirius.” Lily warned.

“Would you guys stop?” He barked back at them before returning his burning gaze back to you. “I’m tired of this; of running around the school looking for you, of being disappointed every time you bail on us, of having to hold James whilst he cries because you’ve let him down, of being lied to. So I’m going to ask again - what the hell has gotten into you?”

“Nothing has gotten into me…” You tried to argue, though it sounded feeble even to your own ears. 

James had cried? You made James cry…

The disappointment in Remus’ eyes, the concern in Lily’s, the anger in Sirius’, the sadness in James’... it was too much, too much, too much. 

“You’re going to stand there and lie to my sodding face?” Sirius asked incredulously.

“Sirius, stop it.” James ordered; his voice far more severe than you have ever heard from him. “Angel, please. Just…just tell us what’s wrong. Tell me what I can do to fix this.”

Any sadness that had settled in your chest bubbled into anger at his word choice.

“Fix this?” You repeated back to him. “Why? Why bother fixing anything if you’re all just going to leave me!?” 

The four Gryffindor’s stood staring at you with different levels of bemusement; Lily and Sirius at your words, Remus and James at you having raised your voice for the first time…well…ever. 

“What do you mean ‘leave you’?” Lily asked cautiously, causing you to scoff. 

“I heard you guys - in the library.”

“In the library? But…you never showed?” James asked.

“Yes, I did - and I heard you guys talking about me, so I decided to stay out of your way thinking that maybe I’d make it easier on you all. But then you’ve spent the past week absolutely torturing me; showing up at my classes, trying to sit beside me, showing up to my dorm room like you weren’t just biding your time.”

“Y/N, what exactly did you hear us say in the library?” Remus queried.

“That you couldn’t do this anymore! That someone ‘had to tell me’ because it was ‘getting out of hand’. That you couldn’t possibly live like this anymore and hopefully I’d just understand. And I do! I do understand; but what I don’t understand is what the point of chasing me around the bloody castle is if you-”

“Whoa, whoa. Okay, alright just breathe, darling, I’m sorry.” Lily attempted to placate, holding her hands up as she approached like you were some kind of feral cat.

You sort of acted like one when you swatted her hands away from you.

“No! No, it’s not fair! I’m sorry if I’m too much, or if I’m not enough; I get it, okay? I do; sometimes it doesn’t work out and that’s fair but if that’s how you feel then just leave me alone!” You shouted back, feeling the tears trailing down your neck at this point. 

“Y/N, please, listen okay? Just relax and we can talk this out.” Lily tried again as James let out a pained breath that sounded awfully close to a sob. 

“Remus, please.” He begged, turning his pooling hazel eyes to his scarred boyfriend who was looking at you in abject horror. “Please.”

“Y/N, you’ve misunderstood, dove. I-I’m sorry, It’s my fault, but what you heard…that wasn’t us talking about breaking up with you. I… It was about me.”

You wiped angrily at your face and set your now cold plate on the ground - you weren’t hungry anymore anyways. “It’s not you, it’s me?” You sneered half-heartedly.

“No, no…Merlin, Y/N I- I’m a werewolf. Okay? I have lycanthropy, I was bitten when I was four; that’s where I go once a month and why I get…weird. We were talking about the fact that I needed to tell you because it was hurting us to keep it from you. Dovey, I’m so sorry you’ve been so upset. Please, please take a breath for me.” 

You held your hands over your eyes as you tried to control your breathing.

Sketchiness…tension…disappearances… 

“You’re going to have to say something to her, Rem; this is getting out of hand”

“Can’t we just ignore this? Just for a little longer? I mean, it can’t be that bad?”

“Y/N’s so sensitive though… How do you tell her something like that?”

“It has to come from Remus.” 

“I don’t bloody care how we tell her, but we have to say something; I cannot keep living like this, it’s exhausting.”

“I’m sorry you guys. I thought we could ignore it but…I don’t think we can anymore.”

“I think we ought to just rip the bandaid off and hope she understands.”

“I’m a werewolf. I have lycanthropy…that’s where I go once a month.” 

“Please…baby, please say something. I-I’m so sorry.” You heard Sirius plead quietly; his shaky voice in stark contrast from the way he’d been barking at you just moments before. 

You pulled your wet hands away from your eyes to see all four of them looking at you with nothing but worry and heartache on their faces; though none looked quite as vulnerable as Remus did. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He whispered.

You sucked in a shuddering breath as more tears fell. “So…you don’t hate me?”

Remus let out a disbelieving laugh when you heard what sounded suspiciously like a sob from James.

“No! No, no dove, that- I’m rather quite in love with you, you know?” He pressed, daring to step closer to you. “Do you hate me?” He asked then, tone turning vulnerable once more.

“No.” You whined emphatically. 

“Oh my poor girl.” Sirius whined sympathetically. 

“Can I hug you? Please?” James all but begged, stepping in front of you with his arms open already; poised for you to say…

“Yes.”

You’re not sure he even waited for the affirmation to leave your lips before he had you encased in his arms.

You shoved your face into his chest and fisted his shirt in your hands; pulling him as close as you possibly could to your person. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been standing there - directly in front of the kitchens and awfully close to your own common room - sniffling into James’ shirt as he sniffled into your hair, but you heard a sniffle come from beside you.

You turned to see Sirius’ grey eyes shiny and red as he looked at you imploringly. 

“I’m so sorry I yelled at you, sweetness. I’m such an arse I just…I-”

“It’s okay.” You whispered.

“No it’s not.” Sirius argued immediately. “I…I get like that sometimes; just horribly defensive and then I go on the offensive first. I didn’t even give you a chance to talk to us before I was attacking you; I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Siri.” You offered again, holding a hand out to him which he took readily. 

“I can’t believe you’ve spent this whole week believing we wanted nothing to do with you.” Lily whined from your other side. “I’m so sorry we left you feeling like that, darling girl.”

Though you were quite content in your muscled hideaway, you pulled away from James’ chest to wipe at your face again, feeling awfully self-conscious of how blotchy your face must look from your tears.

“I shouldn’t have assumed.” You admitted shamefully; voice scratchy from both the shouting and the crying.

“The way you described it, I can understand how our conversation sounded to you, babygirl.” Sirius contended. 

“So…you’re really not leaving me?” You asked again.

“I feel like I should be asking you that, dove.” Remus replied.

“Why would I be leaving you?”

Lily shared a knowing look with Sirius and James who in turn moved their gazes to Remus with expressions reading “see?”. 

“Not everyone would be accepting of a werewolf.”

You felt your eyebrows furrow as you looked at the others as if saying “are you hearing this right now?” 

“But…I love you? I…I don’t even know what else to say…I just… love you so, that’s fine.”

“I just love you so that’s fine.” Sirius repeated as he looked at Remus arrogantly. “I knew I should have placed a bet on how she’d respond; I’d have made five galleons!”

“We were not going to bet on how our girlfriend would respond to Remus’ furry little problem, Sirius.” Lily chided as she playfully swatted at his shoulder. 

“Besides,” James added, pulling you closer into his side again. “You would have lost because I don’t think any of us would have bet that she’d misinterpret our disastrous conversation as us trying to leave her and then spend the week believing we were waiting for the perfect time to break up with her only for us all to shout and cry when we realised what happened.”

“No, that's true.” Sirius agreed readily, looking back at you with sympathy. “I really am sorry, baby.”

“Me too.” Lily continued.

“Me most of all.” Remus added.

“I knew we should have gone looking for her that night.” James mused aloud mostly to himself. “Could have saved us all a lot of heartache.” 

“Yeah, yeah Prongs. You’re right again; I’m sure we’ll never live it down.” Sirius said with a playful eye roll. 

“How can we make it up to you?” Lily asked as she placed her hand at the juncture of your neck and shoulder and traced shapes along the column of your neck with her thumb.

You shook your head shyly and looked at your feet. “It’s not necessary guys.”

“Nonsense.” Sirius scoffed.

“Let’s start with some dinner, yeah? And maybe a cwtch in the boys’ dorm upstairs?” Remus offered to the group, though he seemed to be waiting for you to answer.

You nodded at him and he opened his arms in invitation which you accepted readily.

“I’m sorry, dovey.” He whispered into your hair.

“I’m sorry too, Rem.”

“Let’s never fight again.” James decided enthusiastically as Lily and Sirius stepped through the pear portrait into the kitchens.

“Sounds good to me, bubs.” Remus agreed as he bent down to press a kiss to James’ lips whilst keeping you secured to his side.

You were sure that after this week, these four wouldn’t be letting you out of their reach.

After this week, you weren’t sure you minded that at all.

[herefortheteadandthed]

One of the (your) girls -

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

first imagine what do y’all think? ive loved this song since it came out it’s been on my mind and max is simply the hottest so. enjoy luvs

lock me up and throw away the key

“fuck yeah take it shatje, so good” he pounded into your throat and gripped your hair unforgivingly.

This was your typical night, when he wasn’t on his sim or partying he was with you, he didn’t love you, you both knew that but the way he fucked you made you feel ethereal. He saw you as merely an object but you weren’t exactly opposed to it, just as long as you felt loved while he thrusted into you with force.

He knows how to get the best out of me

He shoved his fingers further down your throat as you gagged, attempting to pull away.

“no no no shatje, i know what you can take, trust me?” you nodded apprehensively

“bad idea”

i’m no fools for the world to see

you and max were arguing. Again.

“you can’t just fuck me, treat me like shit and then go and tell everyone!”

you screamed at him as he walked over, admiring how his shirt swam on your smaller figure.

After a few moments of silence and him coming closer just to stare depose into your eyes

“say something!” you finally snapped, growing angry at the love? he was looking at you with

“oh shatje you never were good at shutting up”

he taunts you placing a callused hand on your wet cheek.

with a sudden burst of confidence you say “fuck you max” immediately cowering seeing his expression shift from admiration to dissatisfaction.

trade my whole life just to be

You stumble, the sting against your skin was cold at first, before heat and pain began radiating from your right cheek. You stare at him in disbelief as you burst into tears.

“come here mijn schatzi” he opened his arms, and you mentally shunned yourself for collapsing into his chest. Arms tucked in front of yourself protectively as his firm grip rests around you. He places gentle kisses on you head before resting his chin atop your head.

top of the world but i’m still not free

“why do you care Max?!?” you yelled at him trying not to cry out of frustration “you have said so many times - We. Aren’t. Dating” I emphasise the words.

“That doesn’t mean you care wear this slutty dress and let men look at you as if they want to do what only i’m allowed to!”

Max raises his voice to conquer my feeling of control.

“It’s just a dress, Max!” you can barely finish the sentence before he pushes you against a wall pinning your hands with one of his big, strong, veiny hands.

“Listen here, you EVER raise you voice to me again and you will fucking regret it” he is dangerously close to your face, daring, waiting for you to say something. You bite your tongue and look up at him with pure anger.

“brat” he spits “can’t even go to one gathering without my dick so you wear this?”

it was a dark red cocktail dress with a deep neck line and a split up the leg. It showed off his favourite parts of you and in one of his favourite colours. You were teasing him. something in your eyes while you were talking to charles said “come on, play with me.” he wouldn’t.

“well i guess if you won’t, someone else will” you say under your breathe. He caught it.

this is a secret that i keep

The jealousy pulsing through his body as he violently rubbed your sensitive clit while fucking you into the bed was unfamiliar to him. This was his way of taking back control.

He told himself continuously that he felt nothing for you, but the warmth of your skin against his became his favourite feeling.

-

“so what’s even going on with you and Max” your best friend Ella asked for the 100th time.

“I know Ella, it’s complicated-“ She gripped your hand with a pleading look in her eyes.

“I know what you’re going to say, and i won’t comment but please” she grips tighter looking into your soul. She always had a way of doing that, she had helped me through so mandy harsh places and she was now helping me through my first ever “relationship” that was basically just fuck buddies but he would buy me things sometimes.

“you’re a beautiful person inside and out, don’t let him abuse that”

Until he’s gone I can never find peace

Sitting on my bathroom floor as he begged me to let him in, he knocked on the door.

“Baby please, come out we can figure this out, we can talk” You could’ve sworn you heard his voice break towards the end. Manipulator.

I quickly stood up opening the door, as he stumbles back I push him, he barely flinches.

“HOW FUCKING DARE YOU” I have never been this angry, the anger only a boyfriend should be able to cause.

“baby please! i swear it was a few months ago” i had found texts on his phone some slut who he fucked when we were still “together”

“It doesn’t matter, we never have dated and we are not dating! you can fuck who you want!” Wrong.

“I just care that you can be balls deep in a girl and i’m not even allowed to flirt with a guy!”

It was true, Max and you both know how jealous he is, so sensitive to rejection.

“Oh shatje, it’s not like that-“ he raised his hands in emphasis.

“Then what is it like?! HUH?”

Trained my whole life just to be

Before Max you were a virgin, barely even made with a guy before. He loved it, relished in the innocence, the way you gripped his arms and scratched his back as he first entered you.

“So tight” he repeated, praise and degradations fell from his lips as he refused to kiss you. He doesn’t want any romance, just a stress reliever, to ruin that innocent. No intimacy.

Now you were well trained to him, so responsive and most of the time obedient. Unless you were acting up, in a bratty mood which he loved as well.

“Still want to act like a brat?” he stilled his vicious thrusts into your sore centre.

“N-no i swear i’ll be good”

On him the instant you wanted to be filled to the brim.

We don’t gotta be in love no, i don’t gotta be the one no…

You knew you meant nothing to him, just a pet, a few holes to fill when angry or bored.

However recently things had shifted

“Fuck you’re so beautiful like this, my pretty girl” your heart exploded in every way possible as the rare praise fell from his lips that were now attached to yours.

He kissed you? he never did that, to intimate, it meant he was admitting what you would never believe- he was in love with you.

i just wanna be one of your girls tonight

“i can’t do this anymore max” you shamefully admitted as you sat next to him on his couch avoiding eye contact

He looked at you in shock and sadness, who wouldn’t want him.

“what?” he struggles to get out and his heart drops at the thought.

“I’m in love with you max, and ignoring this is killing me, It’s driving me insane knowing you couldn’t give less of a shit about me when i would do anything for you” you didn’t even realise that tears had started to fall from your tired eyes.

“I can’t keep waiting for you to call me, just to kick me to the curb once you finish. The sec is amazing, i can’t lie” you are now facing him as he fiddles with his hands. He usually intimidating aura shattering at the thought of losing you.

“But this” you say gesturing to the air between you “is driving me insane”

“You’re in love with me?” no one had ever said such things to him, the rare conversations you would have, the laughs, the times where you would fall asleep in his arms after going at it for hours and he could actually sleep for once. holding you protectively against him.

“Yes max” there’s no need to say more. you stand and reach for your bag, his hand catches your wrist.

“But i treat you like shit, but i don’t want to, i don’t mean to, I-I-I just” did max verstappen just stutter?

He stands to be facing you “Can’t you see, i’m so in love with you it drives me insane, you so funny, and smart, and you are the most beautiful person i have ever seen, please just-“

You look into his now teary blue eyes with an expression he can’t really read, anger? sadness? frustrating? all of it.

“And you just say this now? seriously?”

“I was to scared to admit it! i’ve never been in love but i fell so hard and i thought that maybe if i treated you like this then i could get over you but i can’t- i can’t Y/n” he is gripping the sides of your face begging you not to look away, not to leave.

“This way everyone would stay away from you, and i could be with you without the commitment” He finally admits.

“Max is cant-“ your mind is racing a mile a minute.

“Please, please, please don’t leave, i promise ill- i don’t know” he is now on his knees, hugging your hips.

“I don’t want to be like this, teach me please, how to love, how to treat you like you deserve, because you deserve the world” These soft words, these compliments, confessions feel foreign to you both, but they feel good.

After a moment of silence you pull his hair back to be looking up at you, his usually cold demeanour broken down.

“one chance, and you better give it all you have-“ you can barely finish before he’s lifting you and throwing you over his muscular shoulder.

“max!” you yelp as he places you on the bed, crawling to suck, kiss, bite every part of you. Anything he can get.

“I will do anything, i will buy you everything you want” you stop him

“I don’t want jewels and bags, i want love, i want to be on you’re mind, i want you to be driven as crazy as i was, i want to fill that massive hole in your heart that you told me about when you were drunk” You tell him sweetly.

“I will, dates, snuggles, love i will be your first, best and last i swear!” he looks up to you with that look you claimed you hated, like you hung the stars in the sky, like the the reason the planets are in orbit, like he’s in love.

You’re not one his girls, he is your man, and you - his woman.

[whorediaries-09]

down bad;

pairing- james potter x reader warning(s)- death, angst. a/n- i'm in my moods lately. a bit of angst to calm my soul and to feed my babies. short and sour :)

little train.

death was easy. unlike the concept of pain that came along with death, which had been ingrained into your mind as you grew, it was easy. even if you lay on the cold hard ground, slowly losing your senses as the acid from your stomach burned your organs, destroying them. your eyes ran dry, hands slowly losing strength and senses to hold back the blood flowing from your stomach.

or perhaps it was interest you lost. in saving yourself. the bloodcurdling screams had stopped, your ears were cold, devoid of hearing anything.

bellatrix knew how to kill. she didn't kill for vengeance. she killed because it was her passion. to kill and hurt people. to destroy them and their loved ones. her words were colder than any sword that could kill one. one could see the mad love behind her eyes as she killed.

you knew that. nobody could've known it better than you. but yet when it was time to choose between your life and your friends, you'd chosen your friends. your friends had families to build. your friends had someone waiting for them. but you had no one.

so, you decided to confront her, despite the protests of your friends.

the duel had been going pretty well, before she decided to puncture your emotions. it began with calling you a nobody in the wizarding world. it ended with you on your knees, as she taunted you for falling in love with a married man.

'what would you know about love, bellatrix? you belong to generations of inbreeding,' you spat. you saw the color leave her eyes. you saw yourself touching a nerve. and before you could do anything, you found yourself lying on the cold hard ground, blood oozing out of your stomach like a fountain.

she screamed, hysterically, maniacally, joyfully.

'oh i know about love! look what it's done to you now,'

*-

with shaking hands, james put the tape in the tape player. it was an anonymous mail. he knew better than accepting anonymous mails, given the high risk due to the circumstances. he'd just lost a friend. the grief and guilt still weighed down upon him.

he consoled himself by thinking that the death eaters wouldn't know the muggle ways of tapes or mails. they were petrified of the idea of death.

there was a static noise, before a cough. a cough he knew a bit too well. it hit him like a jab in the stomach.

'hi. if you're hearing this, then i'm dead. but i cannot simply die without confessing a few secrets you should know. so, this is my confession.'

james knew this voice a little too well. the girl he'd first fallen in love with. the woman who was dead, and would never return.

'i've never actually loved someone. it had just been you i'd decided to fall in love with. but of course. fate has always been cruel with me.'

james felt a growing lump in his throat. his eyes burned.

'before i could ever confess to you, i found out lily had finally said yes to your date after the years you'd spent pestering her. i don't remember feeling anything particularly. i remember it hurt me. it wounded me, it made me numb.'

the tears that flowed down his cheeks were warm and salty. the day was crystal clear in his memories. how you'd stopped talking to him, and started avoiding him and his constant confrontations asking you about your absence.

'but then it started to hurt. so much. it began with you changing places with peter to sit beside lily. then began her melodious laughter ringing into my dumb eardrums. then began the start of your beautiful relationship. which was nothing but an eyesore. i knew i had to get myself out from your friendship to end what i'd been feeling.'

he swallowed thickly, tears uncontrollable. he remembered how he'd had a crush on you as a fourteen year old, but you weren't quite close to him or his friend group back then. as he got to know you slowly, he realized that he'd never liked you. he liked the idea of you. he had always loved lily.

'then started your confrontations. i tried to ignore you, and i thought it wouldn't be too hard, given there was not much time left for school to finish anyways. turns out i was wrong. we had to join the order, since voldemort is at large. and we had to spend more time together. at meetings. at missions.'

james could remember the first time he'd seen you after hogwarts. you had changed a lot. it seemed as if you'd lost your charm. your shine.

'then you took me to choose the ring with which you proposed lily. and i think, that was my last straw before i let loose of any hope. and i knew it is wrong. but i'm doomed aren't i? always have been.'

james hated the fact that he hadn't done anything. even if he'd never liked you romantically, he'd loved you. you'd left the world without any closure. the closure you thought you didn't need. the closure he thought you deserved.

'you thought that it would be a nice way to catch up. but you only lost me. but trust me i was happy for you. i was happy that you got to marry the woman you'd always wanted to marry. i am happy that you got to marry the woman you'd loved. but sometimes i turn sour, thinking why couldn't it be me? and i really hate myself for it.'

your voice paused, and you took a deep breathe. cold air chilled down his spine.

'i didn't opt to be your odd man out. but i guess, that's what i was. but now that i'm no more, and you can't confront me anymore, i just need to say this, no matter how morally wrong it might be.'

james felt his heart pause. it was like a rare breathe.

'i love you.'

****************************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

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****************************************

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Taking a leaf out of @bcdaily's book, enjoy this random excerpt from a fic I started years ago and will definitely never finish.

When Sirius lead the way back inside the house, which the collective household had spent the better part of a day decorating—a testament to how much they loved Remus, or how much James enjoyed drawing Adipose faces on square balloons—James followed, and split off near the living room, where he found most of the guests, and his mum, who beckoned frantically for him to come over.

"There's a girl waiting for you by the front door," she told him, pointing towards the door that opened into the hallway. "I think she's here to deliver something."

"Probably Beatrice with the cake."

"No, she said her name—wait, no, come here!" cried his mum, as he turned and made to walk away, her hand closing tight around his forearm. For reasons that were utterly beyond him, she began to brush invisible crumbs from his suit jacket—he'd gone full Tennant for the sake of the party, red Converse and all—with such force that he felt as if he was one wrong move away from a violent pummelling.

"What are you—" he began, then cried out in pain as she caught him hard in the chest. "That was a rib, woman!"

"Stop whinging, I'm just trying to help you."

"Help me with what?"

"You'll want to look presentable before you go out there."

"Why?"

"Just trust me, you silly boy," she said, and made as if to grab his tie, but James darted out of the way. "I'm just trying to fix it!"

"Ten always wore his tie tucked in!"

"It's leaning to the left!"

"Yeah, well, so am I."

"A tie should look smart, not—" his mother began, to which James turned and fled at a flat-out run, bursting into the hall with unnecessary speed and startling a girl who, until that point, appeared to have been examining a painting of the Santorini coastline that his parents had mounted on the wall.

Correction. A very beautiful girl examining a painting of the Santorini coastline.

She'd jumped when he came running into the hall, but seemed to recover fast, and bestowed upon him an extraordinarily pretty smile.

"That was some entrance," she said, sounding amused. "Are you training for a marathon?"

He was still wrong. The word 'very' was sufficient for most things, but it fell short in this instance, because this girl, this lovely, pink-cheeked, ivory-skinned miracle, with waves of dark red hair and incomparably stunning eyes, was clearly the most beautiful girl James had ever laid eyes on in his life.

The most beautiful girl in the world was standing in his parents' hallway, for some reason, while he, like an idiot, was fully dressed as the bleeding Doctor and couldn't pretend that he wasn't, because she'd very likely heard him yelling to his mother about the favoured position of Ten's tie, and he had a sonic screwdriver tucked behind his ear.

"Um," he said. Um. That was it. A sound. He'd made a sound. Well done.

Maybe he'd get really lucky, and she'd know nothing about Doctor Who, and he could pretend that the screwdriver was a really fancy pen. Woman liked fancy pens. A fancy pen meant a fancy man.

"Are you dressed as the Doctor?" she said, eyeing his costume curiously.

The fancy pen idea shat a brick and ran for the hills.

"Er, no," he lied, his brain twitching frantically. He wished there was a way to rid himself of the screwdriver in an inconspicuous manner. "This is just how I dress."

"Are you sure?"

"Totally sure."

"Oh," she said, and the tiniest crease appeared between her eyebrows. "It's just, there's a two-foot tall Dalek cake sitting outside in my van right now, and that's telling me a different story."

Were James as pale as her—and it was particularly fortunate at this moment that he wasn't—his face would have been redder than his trainers.

"You're from Lily and Bee," he said, burning with shame. "I mean, from the bakery."

The girl nodded, pointing to her own chest. "I'm Lily, if you hadn't guessed, since you've already met Beatrice—if you're James Potter, that is, which I hope you are. He's the one I'm looking for."

She was looking for him she was looking for him she was looking for him she was—of course she was looking for him, she was delivering the cake he'd bloody commissioned. "I'm him. I'm James."

"Not the Doctor?"

"Well, yeah," he admitted, and glanced down at his outfit. "But only on very special occasions."

She smiled politely, an image he wished he could record and play back when he remembered this conversation, so he could let his mind linger on the one thing he'd done right in all this ugly embarrassment. "I'm sorry if there's been any confusion—it's actually me who made the cake. I was on holiday for the week when you consulted with Beatrice and now she's on holiday and it's a whole thing, but it's all finished and ready, so no harm done."

"Ah, okay." He could do better than this. "Nice romantic week away, was it?"

Not like that.

"I was in the Lake District with my parents," she replied, regarding him with some curiosity. "So no, not particularly. Can't really sneak boys back to a Windermere-adjacent cottage with really thin walls, though I got to hear them going at it, which was horrifying." She pulled a face. "Anyway, I assume you're going to need this cake, yeah?"

[hollowbutcanlove]

The language of the flowers Pt. 2

warning: the hard moment with the Cypher.

Sova - rose red (bud) - confusion; "I think I've fallen in love with you," "I'm glad we met," "Every day my feelings for you grow stronger."

On the spacious streets of St. Petersburg, you and Sova decided to spend your little vacation. After visiting many memorable places, you decided that it was time for a little rest on one of the shores of the Gulf of Finland. He left you alone for a while, saying he needed to get something to eat.

The cool breeze ruffled your hair, making you wrap yourself tighter in your sweater. Growing up in a warm climate, you weren't used to the fickle weather of Sova's homeland. Suddenly, something that isn't a human hand touches your head, causing you to throw it back. You see a bunch of red buds that cover almost everything above you. The bouquet moves back a little and you see Sova's satisfied face.

"These are for you. In Russia, it's considered that giving fancy bouquets to your beloved is the basis of a strong relationship." He chuckles. "In fact, some men give a single rose in cellophane, which our women consider an insult."

"Then it could be considered a very very big compliment." You run your finger over the scarlet petals. "How many are there, anyway?"

"One hundred and one roses."

"One hundred and one?" - you take the bouquet into your hands admiringly, then give a light kiss on Sova's cheek. He sits down next to you.

"You deserve all the flowers in the world, but it remains to be seen - which ones specifically should you give? Peonies, perhaps? Or lilies?"

"Any flowers from you would be my favorite."

Cypher - yellow carnation - rejection; "You're avoiding me"; "You've disappointed me"

It was hard to tell when your communication with Cypher had gotten to the point where it was hard to tell if you were friends or lovers. It was even harder for you to understand why he was pulling away and running away, like a kitten who'd tried to confide in people but had gotten scared again and fled into the darkness of the street. He was either not in his office or the door was locked. He didn't answer messages or calls. But you knew he was watching you. Every move you made. But what was he feeling in that moment, doing all those things? You didn't know.

"Cypher, why don't you open up finally? I know you're in there." - You've been trying for the second week to get through to the masked man who's been so diligently avoiding you. "Please, we need to talk."

There was only silence in response.

"Shit... "You slump down next to the door, hugging your knees. "You should know how disappointing you're making me feel right now. I thought there was something between us...Or at least there was. And you're doing this..."

"You didn't know he had a wife and child?" the sudden voice of Viper shakes you out of your trance.

"A wife and child...?" you look at the woman, who at that moment was looking at you with a kind of sympathy, with incomprehension.

"Don't kid yourself, girl. He's still pining for them, and you...you just got caught up in the moment. Forget it and move on." She wanted to support you in some way, but it didn't come out well.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears starting to well up in your eyes. Just a substitute? An attempt to dull the pain of longing?

"Argh... Come on, I'll give you a job to distract you."

Gekko - anemone - sincerity, hope, joy, emotionality; parting, fragility; "Why not?", "I feel really good with you", "Let's have a party?"

The beautiful scenery opens up from the Venice rising in the air, where one of the training grounds is located. You and Gekko watch the sunset while the other agents finish their training. The green-haired guy's creatures were snoring somewhere nearby, exhausted from the training.

"Hey, guess what?"

"What?"

"What if I offer you to be my girlfriend? Would you say yes?"

"Why not?"

"So you'd say yes?"

"Yes."

"Say it again."

"Yes, I agree, Gekko."

A bright smile appeared on the guy's face before he gently took your hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. You giggled and tilted your head to the side. Such small and happy moments were rare in the hard life of a protocol agent, but nevertheless you tried to cherish them and live them as long as possible.

[skyfallslayer]

A Stitch In Time || Prologue

-Bucky Barnes x Daughter!Reader-

Series Masterlist

° Series Summary: A Time Heist mission goes wrong, and some of the Avengers end up in the 1950s. Desperately clinging to their lives, they wind up in a place subconsciously. And unfortunately for Steve, and especially to Bucky, they find themselves face to face with someone they wish not to see.

° Chapter Summary: Worried about how his mission may go, Bucky visits a ‘touchy’ place, and recalls the short life he had with you.

° Date: 7/20

° Rating: Teen

° Word Count: 4,569

° Warning: Talks about death/dying; Reference to Suicide; Guilt; Child Abandonment; Talks of Fertility Issues; Alcohol; Allusions to Depression. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

° A/N: The only excuse I have for taking so long to get this out is because I had an expected mental health break. One that was needed. But I'm back! And I'm slowly updating some of my other stories! So be on the look out for those! Also, let me know if I missed any warnings! Enjoy!

The freshly wetted grass squished underneath his boots with each and every step. His shoulders were slacked, but his wrists were tense as he held the delicate bouquet with both of his hands. He was always nervous to be here, even though he’s done it so many times after finding it, the nervousness never went away. The nausea never stopped too… or the guilt… the fear… the sadness. Nothing ever stopped like he so desperately wanted to. Was this a curse he was stuck with for helping to bring another child into this cruel world?

He reaches the end of his line, just a few short inches away from where his toes could touch the stone; The stone etched with words and numbers that made his heart ache. And when his knees felt weak he lowered himself to the ground, sitting back on his heels. With a bittersweet expression on his features, he removes the old lilies and replaces them with your favorite, pearly white ones. The ones you always smelled like when you came back from playing in the park. Who knew he would miss such a fragrance? 

He takes a deep inhale through his nose, and exhales quietly, gathering his thoughts. “Hey, baby girl. It’s been some… time since I’ve visited. I honestly thought I should wait until your half birthday, but…” He trails off, frowning. “But uh, I’m heading off on another mission tomorrow, a… potentially dangerous one.” He chuckles dryly. “You know the deal with those.”

He pauses like he’s waiting for your answer he knows he won’t get, letting the hot summer wind touch his face and through his chocolate locks. He waited for that as his cue to continue on.

“Uh… so…”

It hurts to even think about it.

“I was just…”

Should he even say it?

“Wondering again if it goes south I can…”

Should he repeat what he always says to your grave?

“Be next to you?”

Another pause, this time it felt more painful. It always hurts to be here. It always hurts to say those words because it wasn’t like he had a death wish, it wasn’t like he was afraid of death, he just… didn’t know if he deserved to be next to you. You were his whole world and he fucked it up. Fucked it up so bad that it makes him more anxious to want to hold you, and hug you, and kiss you, and just talk to you. He loves you. 

He’s loved you since the very beginning.

.

.

.

Bucky would have fallen back in shock if it wasn’t for the small bundle in his arms. His ex-girlfriend had just said some words that he didn’t need to hear right now. Couldn’t even comprehend it.

No, it wasn’t, ‘Can we get back together? I made a mistake’.

No, It wasn’t, ‘The baby isn’t yours’.

No it was–

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” He asked, disbelief etched in his words. There was also an underlying sense of anger and betrayal, because–

She couldn’t be serious...

Right?

He watched the woman standing in front of him roll her eyes, snatching her purse from his living room’s couch while responding, “I don’t want her. I only had her because you wanted to keep the baby after finding out I was pregnant.”

He nearly doubled over when he heard the disgust in her voice. “So you’re just going to leave?” Bucky asked, seeing his ex now putting on her winter coat. “But our daughter needs a mother figu–”

“YOUR daughter.” His ex snapped, poison on her tongue. “That baby–” She points furiously. “That baby is a spitting image of you. All the way from the shape of her face to the way she smiles. Everything. Which is fine by me, I don’t want someone looking like me out in the world.”

Bucky opened his mouth to speak as he followed her behind as she walked towards the front door. Unfortunately, she beats him to it. “As for a mother figure, you’ve got three sisters and a mom. That baby can pick up skills from them.”

She swings the door open, letting in the cold breeze of February. Snowflakes flew in, sticking to her clothes and curly hair. Bucky immediately stood sideways and drew you as far away as he could from the freezing air.

(Was she trying to freeze you?!)

“Dottie!” He called out from the doorway, stopping her on the porch.

She wasn’t even going to look back at him, wasn’t she? Or even look at you? Did she truly not feel anything?

He doesn’t know why but his voice cracked, and although he and his ex’s relationship was always rocky, and they both knew that whatever was between them wasn’t going to work out, he still doesn’t want her to leave him alone with a one week old.

“Come on…” He continued, quietly. “At least stay for a couple months until I can do this on my own.” His lower lip quivered slightly. “Please?”

He felt you shift a bit in his arms, probably from the weather, and waited for her to turn around…

But she never did.

“Goodbye, James.” Dottie said, before trailing across the snow covered path to the sidewalk. 

Bucky watches her disappear into the night, his feet glued to the floor even when part of his mind told him to run after her. It would be a lie if he said that he didn’t want to go after her, thinking that maybe she’ll change her mind if actually begs, but the mere thought went out the door when you started to get fussy and cry.

Something deep within him kicked in, probably that parental instincts he’s heard about from his own parents, and all his attention was turned to you cradled in a lilac colored blanket.

“Hey…” He whispered, readjust his hold so that he could gently brush their–

No.

That’s officially gone out the window. 

It’s just his daughter. His.

He readjust his hold so that he could gently brush HIS daughter’s cheek. To brush your cheek like a soft paint brush across a canvas. “Hey. Don’t cry.” He says, soothingly.

He makes a soft shushing sound as he closes the front door with his hip, before carefully guiding himself to sit near the fireplace. He lays you cautiously in his lap, almost in awe as he sees your eyes peeking open for the first time.

(Y/E/C) eyes. 

So beautiful like the world itself. He almost wanted to start taking pictures.

Maybe later though.

He chuckles sadly, tears in his own as he brushes your cheeks again. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry, I got you.” He said, smiling down. “I got you, baby girl.”

You cooed quietly, staring back at him with a bit of curiosity. The look you were giving him melted his heart, but it also made him feel like he didn’t deserve any of this.

“I’m sorry…”  He croaks, sniffling. “It looks like it’s just going to be me and you, doll. I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

You made the cute sounds that took his breath away again, taking up his whole surroundings. However, if it wasn’t for his military training, he probably wouldn’t have even heard someone tumbling down the stairs. Bucky glances at the living room entrance, finding a certain skinny blond that he called his best friend. He saw his chest move slightly, and could almost hear him panting from here.

“S-Sorry.” Steve exhales, leaning against the door frame. “Your mom sent me down here when we heard everything go quiet.”

Bucky smiled a little. “She got worried?”

Steve copies him with a chuckle.  “Yeah. She wanted to make sure you hadn’t run off with her grandchild.”

The brunette shakes his head. “That sounds like my mother.” He turns his attention back on you, but from the corner of his eye he could see his friend shifting uncomfortably, almost hesitantly, in his spot. His smile grows. “Come here.”

“What?” The blond said, genuinely confused. 

“Come here, Steve. You can see her.”

He stiffens up a bit, looking unsure. “H-Her… A-Are you… are you sure?” Steve asked, pointing towards the stairs in the hallway. “I-I shouldn’t be the one seeing your baby first. Shouldn’t I–”

“Get your ass over here, Rogers.” Bucky said, almost wishing he could free his hand up and drag him by the ear (he was always so timid and too cautious sometimes).

Not even daring to question his best friend’s wish, Steve wandered over and took a seat on the couch next to Bucky. He leans in close, examining the small bundle in the soldier’s arms.

Steve’s big blue eyes lit up with joy. “Wow, Buck. She’s adorable.” He said, as you scrunch up your nose to show off your cute, chubby cheeks.

“She is.” Bucky said, fighting back the stinging sensation in his eyes again. He now wonders…

(Is this what it's going to feel like all the time now?)

After a moment of silence, Bucky threw his friend through another loop. “Wanna hold her?”

Steve held his hands up in defense almost immediately after those words left his tongue. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t.”

“I trust you.” Bucky holds you out a little, a reassuring look on his face.

Steve raises a cautious eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Bucky laughs. “I’ll show you.”

Bucky then takes his time showing Steve how to hold you, giving him pointers and readjusting everyone once and awhile until he has you in a good position. The blond’s nerves seemed to vanish into thin air when he started to see that you were looking at him with the same curious eyes you made at your father. Those eyes of yours could melt anyone’s hard shells at this point.

Steve chuckles, and grins as he gets butterflies in his stomach from you. “What’s her name?” He asks, sparing a glance at your dad for a split second. “Did Dottie ever give her one?”

Bucky shakes his head sadly. “No.” He said, his voice feeling rather small at the moment. “No she didn’t. I’m tasked with giving her one.”

“Have you thought of any? I know you were looking through some books a few weeks back.”

“I have and I think…” He takes another good look at you, making sure the name was the right choice. “I was thinking… (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” The blond repeats back, testing it out like an echo chamber for his friend who nodded back.

“Yeah. (Y/N).” Bucky tests it out his lips as other names start to form. “(Y/N)... Stevie Barnes.”

He looks up in surprise. “Stevie?” Steve asks in disbelief again. 

Bucky smiles. “Well, I heard Stevie is the girl version of Steve, so…”

“But…” His blue eyes look away again, looking completely torn.

Your father raises an eyebrow over this. “But what?”

“You’re flattering me way too much, Bucky.”

“Am I?” Bucky asked, tilting his head, slightly puzzled.

“Y-Yes!” Steve said, shaking his head. “Y-You can’t– You shouldn’t name your kid after me.”

Now it was his turn to be even more confused. “Why not?”

“Because, I’m– y-you have sisters! Parents. Y-You should name her after them. Not me.”

“But, Steve, you’re my brother. Besides…” Bucky shifted in his seat, knowing what he’ll say next is touchy. “I know… the doctor said you might not be able to have kids so… think of this as me… giving you a small piece of that.”

Silence befell, the subject was something that really hurt Steve when he heard it the first time; Hell, it even hurt his mother who was present at the time. It kind of haunted him for a while because what could he offer to a person who wanted to share his life? 

Steve stares at him for a while before tearing up, laughing quietly and looking away. “Jesus, Bucky. You’re making me cry.”

A chuckle. “Well don’t, ‘cause I’ll start crying again.” Bucky says, making them belly laugh. 

The blond sniffles and tests the name out on his own. “(Y/N) Stevie Barnes.” He looks back down at you, his smile returning fully. “Not bad, Buck.”

Your father looked at him teasingly. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Steven?”

“Nothing.” Steve replies, holding back another laugh as he watches you start to drift back to sleep. “I’m really happy for you, man.”

“Thanks.” 

A few moments more passed before you were carefully placed back in your father’s arms, where all he did was stare back at you as you pulled yourself to sleep. His happy face started to falter, and there was a heavy amount of doubt in his ocean blue orbs. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Steve.” He finally admits before swallowing the lump in his throat. He soon felt his friend’s hand on his leg, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Bucky. You’ve got your family and you’ve got me.” Steve said, honestly. “And you know this. However, don’t doubt yourself, you got this. You’re going to be a great dad.”

Bucky’s lip curled up a bit, not caring that he was about to cry again. “Steve Rogers. The man who always knows what to say.”

“What can I say? I try.” He asked, coping with his expression.

“And you think I’ll be great? Even with me being a soldier and everything else that comes with it?” Your father asked, doubt was still just lingering on the surface no matter what he did.

Steve gives another gentle squeeze. “I know you’ll be great. I know you’ll do anything to make sure she’ll be okay. So don’t worry too much, okay? (Y/N)’s going to be lucky she has you.”

Bucky hums, truly grateful for a friend like him. 

And without an ounce of hesitation, he bends down slowly and kisses your sleeping forehead. 

“I already loved you so much, (Y/N). I hope you realize that.” He whispers, lovingly. “And I’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe.”

He swears at that moment he saw you smile.

.

.

.

Bucky brushed his flesh fingers against the words in the stone, tracing your name and important dates. February 23rd, 1936. A snowy, snowy day. Cool and crisp. Although he had to wait and wait until you were a week old to hold you, a week old to realize he was on his own, a week to realize that he truly loved you. No upcoming birthday surprises could top this one. But if he loved you so much then…

Why were you cursed to be underground?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When Bucky got back home to his apartment, he found himself subconsciously grabbing the bottle of scotch in his cabinet. Although he knew he couldn’t technically get drunk, the feeling he got after a couple glasses was close enough. Sometimes… he liked the quietness in his home, the time to relax, untouched and left alone to be himself; But most of the time, after so many years of being alone in his head, he loathes being alone. Friends and family were everything to him growing up. You were everything to him growing up. 

He still wonders what it would be like if you were here, running around, asking him twenty questions, painting his toes, etcetera. He always wondered what you were like when you got older, the side of you he never got to see. He always wondered what those short years did for you.

Why did he have to get taken from you so soon?

.

.

.

You dove around your grandparents and aunts’ legs as you made your way out of the house, ignoring how your father’s duffle bag, that subconsciously you hated, was laying on the porch steps. You stumble around a bit on your five year old legs, before finding the person you wanted to see. 

“Uncle Steve!!!” You yelled, throwing your arms up.

“Hey, Pumpkin.” He said, teasingly. He wastes no time to scoop you up, and carefully holds you close to him (it’s been years and he’s still afraid he’ll drop you). “Have you gotten smaller?”

You scrunched up your nose at him, shaking your head. “No.” You giggled at the silly nickname, and it all was because you were pocket size.

“No?” Steve said, tilting his head, all cocky. “Are you sure?”

You giggled again. “Yes.”

He grins. “Just checking.”

A sigh came from inside, before the two of you saw your father exiting his parents house, all dressed in his neatly ironed uniform. He looked miserable as he gazed at his bag on the porch.

“Ready?” Steve asked, readjusting his hold on you as he frowned himself.

“Unfortunately.” Bucky mumbled, not ready for what’s yet to come. However, when he faces you his whole expression changes for the better. “And there’s my little girl!”

“Papa!” You yelled, holding your arms out. He takes you in his arms, hugging you gently. “Are you leaving, Papa?”

“Oh, baby doll, I am.” He said, pulling back to look at you. “But don’t worry, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He taps your nose. “Okay?”

You nodded slowly and smiled. “Okay!”

“Good.” He gives you a big kiss on your head, before peppering your face with some more making you laugh. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you, too, Papa.”

“I love you more.”

He gives you one more kiss and one more hug before transferring you over back to Steve. They both give each other a strong hug and pat on the back, smiling bittersweetly.

“Be safe, Bucky.” Steve said, trying to hide his concern.

“I will. You too. The both of you.” Bucky said, grabbing his bag and making sure his voice was stern.

“We will. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Thank you, Steve.” 

He bid them goodbye, and you and Steve watched him walk down the path to the military jeep parked nearby. It was chilling almost to watch, and your five year old mind couldn’t quite comprehend the heavy feeling you felt underneath the surface.

“Uncle Steve?” You asked, prying his eyes away from the moving vehicle. 

“Yeah?” He said, softly.

You looked at him all puzzled, something wasn’t adding up. “I thought you told me you were going with him?” You swear he mentioned something like that to you yesterday. Right?

His eyes look away from you, almost like he was recollecting himself before giving you his answer. “I am. But not yet.” He replies, honestly. His orbs finally meet yours again. “Not until I know you're okay.”

“Really?” You asked, tilting your head to the side with curiosity.

“Sure am.” He smiles once more. “Now, what do you want to do? You want to see what Grandpa and Grandma are doing?”

Your eyes light up at their names. “Yes!!!” 

He laughs at your enthusiasm. “Okay, okay. Let’s go see them.”

.

.

.

Bucky throws a bottle of scotch across the room, shattering somewhere. He didn’t care though. It’s not like he even batted an eye.

Five years old. 

That was it.

That’s the last time he ever saw you.

And that hurt like a bitch.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He doesn’t know when…

But everything suddenly just…

Clicked.

Memories of his flooded in like a broken dam. He starts to recall who he was before and after the fall. Before and after the war. Before and after everything. So as he made his way to Siberia with his friend, Steve, he remembers something that was like a knife to his heart.

“I have a daughter.” Bucky said abruptly, cutting Steve off.

When he was on the run after the helicarriers fell, he remembers his time growing up in the early 1900s. The (multiple) times he saved his best friend’s ass from being picked on, or the way he took his younger siblings to the park, or helping his mother bake, or fixing the car with his dad. But there were a few memories he was confused by for a long time.

First he only heard little laughs, or someone trying to sing a child’s song. Then he saw little toys and dresses. Then he saw a little face with big, wondrous eyes. It didn’t take him long to realize who she was.

He met with his friend’s eyes quickly, almost getting choked up by an emotion that had been under lock and key for so long. “...I have a daughter… don’t I?”

Steve, who seemed taken back by his sudden string of words, opens and closes his mouth a few times, before settling his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Yes, Bucky. You do.”

Bucky looked away, the confirmation sending his mind spiraling again, and the Captain could tell. He decides to approach this carefully since he knows his friend isn’t hundred percent in his right mind yet.

“Do you remember her?” Steve asked, watching him nod slowly. “What do you remember?”

Bucky thinks long and hard about this. What did he remember about you?

“Uh… I remember she was tiny… always tiny.” He chuckles quietly, making Steve smile. “She uh… had um… (Y/H/C) hair that was kind of wavy when she got older. Um… big, bright (Y/E/C) eyes. She… she um… smiled a lot… I think?”

“Yeah, she did Buck. All the time.” Steve said, patting his shoulder gently as he could see the joy it was bringing to his friend.

Bucky laughs again. “Uh… you used to call her by a weird nickname. What was it? Uh…” He purses his lips. “Po… Potato?”

Now it was the blond’s turn to laugh. “N-No. No. Close… Starts with a P, though.”

“Um…” His eyes light a spark. “Oh. Yeah. I remember now. We took her to her first Halloween pumpkin patch when I could hold in one hand because she was so tiny.”

“Yep. That’s what I called her.” He says with a nod. “Your Ma tried to dress her up like one.”

“Oh, yeah, she did.”

And then it got quiet, and Steve saw the bright light in his friend’s eyes go out when the wheels started to turn again. He held his breath, knowing what he was recalling next.

Bucky swayed on the balls of his feet a bit, looking at the floor. “She was five the last time I saw her.” He says, bittersweetly. “I remember, the night before, I took her to Coney Island, and we just played games and ate until our bellies ached. I got her a stuffed bear on the ring toss…”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, trying to give him some comfort because he knew there was no stopping any memories of you.

“She was with you when I left. I gave her hugs, and kisses and…” His voice starts to break. “I love you’s…. Um…”

“Bucky–” Steve begins, hating how hurt he looked.

“Steve. W-Was that last time you saw h-her too?”

Steve closed his mouth, thinking to himself. He couldn’t lie. He was a terrible liar which the brunette always sees through. So what was the point of even trying?

Cap shakes his head. “No. I saw her when she was nine. ‘Bout to be nine.”

“N-Nine?” Bucky asked, just above a whisper. “W-Why?”

“Um…” He swallows. “I had to…. I had to tell your family about, you know… the train… and you.”

The Soldier went distant. “O-Oh…”

“I wanted to make sure I was the one to tell them.” 

“Oh…” Bucky started to get teary eyed. “D-Did you tell her?"

Steve held his breath again. It was like his mind started to relive that day.

You looked so happy to see him, but he watched that expression vanish when you saw his sadden face. It hurts to take you by the hand and into your room. It hurts to see how you’ve grown, and to think he got to see it and not your dad made the situation a whole lot worse.

He wanted to lie and tell you your dad was hurt. 

He wanted to lie and tell you your dad was still at war and won’t be home for a while.

He wanted to lie and say everything was going to be okay.

But he couldn’t, and felt like it was his duty to tell you what happened to your father, to his best friend.

He knew if the situation was reversed, Bucky would be doing the very same thing now.

And when he did tell you, he hated how you kept on denying it. You called him a liar, and god he wished he was.

“I-I did…” He said, feeling his eyes sting as well. 

Bucky jaw clenches. “A-And?”

Steve looks away for a second. “She cried for three hours.”

“O-Oh…” Bucky looks away too. “I always h-hated when s-she cries.”

With his hand still on the brunette shoulder, he gave him another comforting squeeze. “She…” Cap chokes, his memories flooding in all at once. “S-She um… she gave me her blanket, the one that she came home with. She um, wanted me… to promise to come back to her. But um… I failed at that, I guess.”

Bucky frowns. “Steve–"

“I tried finding her, Buck.” He finally looks at him. “When I came out of the ice, SHIELD managed to give me some of my things from the war. I kept the blanket in my chest, so… I tried finding her, because I didn’t want to break that promise to (Y/N), but…”

“You didn’t find anything?”

Steve shakes his head. “Not exactly.” He whispers, exhaling shaky. 

“Not exactly?” Bucky asked, wanting an answer. “What does that mean?”

Now it was Steve’s turn to look all messed up. Especially since he couldn’t make eye contact again. He swallows a lump in his throat and says, “I’m so sorry, Bucky…”

“Sorry about what?” Bucky couldn’t understand what was happening and it was honestly starting to scare him. “What are you sorry about?”

“(Y/N)...” He sighs quietly, and forces himself to look in his best friend’s eyes. “Pneumonia. She, uh… got pneumonia in ‘54 and passed.” 

Now the knife has dug deeper, chilling his bones too. “She’s dead?” He said, barely audible. 

“Yeah. She’s dead.” The Captain replies, dispirit. “I found the spot where she’s buried. I can take you there if you–”

“Thank you, Steve.” The soldier says, ignoring the blond’s confused state. “I mean it. You were always so good to her, and to think you never stopped looking after all this time means A LOT to me. Do you understand? You helped my daughter when she was at her lowest, and you even found her for me. I thank you for that.”

Steve smiles bittersweetly. “No need to. I said I’ll always be there for the both of you.”

Bucky returns the gesture. “As will I.”

“Now, let’s finish this, shall we?”

.

.

.

“-Bucky.” Steve says, touching his shoulder and getting a small jolt from the man. Surprised eyes fell on him as he returned with concerned ones. “You ready?”

“Uh…” Bucky looked around quickly, remembering it was standing in the locker room changing. He didn’t even realize he had zoned out. “Y-Yeah.” He said, zipping up the front of his Quantum Suit. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Steve tilts his head, the worriedness never vanishing. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Let’s get this mission completed.”

And those were the words that would change -everything-.

(TBC)

-Taglist Is Open-

@navs-bhat @liarasstuff @justmewoo @thed1v1n3

@luckyzipperscissorsbat @like-a-domino @kissesofdeadforme

@audigay

[zilabee]

Living The Beatles Legend:

After a lifetime of self-doubt over body issues and inveterate shyness, he simply couldn’t control himself. “Big Mal was a demon for sex,” Tony wrote. “[...] Like sacrificial virgins, a lot of the girls willingly accepted that they would have to do it with Mal to get to John, Paul, George, or Ringo, and Mal knew it.”

“A couple of newspaper friends put on a private show involving several prostitutes for our entertainment, one of them being very pregnant.” As Mal recalled, “It was a little unnerving to have these ladies performing before our eyes with each other in one room, with Brian, George Martin and Judy, and the rather more staid members of the press in the adjoining living room.”

“I was being entertained by a young lady late one evening,” Mal wrote, “when George rushes into the darkened room, stoned out of his mind, tearing the bedclothes off, shouting, ‘My turn next—come on, give us a bit!’” Mal gave way to the Beatle, concluding that “apart from that, I was the one that got screwed.”

By this point, [Lily] wasn’t just finding “silly groupie letters” in his suitcase, but also the occasional stray pair of knickers and other telltale signs of infidelity. She recognized that Mal was being seduced—and had been for some time—by overwhelming forces, impulses with which she could hardly begin to compete.

After her brother returned from the States, June recalled that “Malcolm came home knackered, absolutely shattered from that tour.” [...] Her brother and the Beatles were living in a “totally unreal world—an extraordinary, horrendous, wonderful, terrible place that they were all existing in during that period. And they were all damaged by it. They suddenly could have anything they wanted.”

After sharing a convivial dinner with Victoria’s father, who retired early, Mal (31yo) and Victoria (16yo) returned to the hotel and went up to the twenty-seventh floor. [..] “Mal was very sweet,” she recalled, “and we talked and we talked, and we sort of made out.” And while she was unable to meet the Beatles the next morning to do an interview, she exchanged contact information with Mal. And later that year, the letters from her new pen pal began arriving, elegantly adorned with “this beautiful British handwriting.” *

Eventually, Mal would develop a vital relationship of his own with the Scruffs, although he had his detractors—namely, Carol Bedford, a peripheral member of their scrum and a George aficionado who later claimed that Mal tried to put the moves on her. Apparently, Mal had continued to approach women in the Beatles’ universe in the same transactional manner in which he and Neil had “auditioned” willing fans during the band’s touring years. Another Apple Scruff recalled a similar instance when Mal’s attempts to cozy up to the Scruffs went terribly wrong. Apparently, he had crawled under one of the girls’ blankets and “touched something he shouldn’t have.” With that, the offended Scruff came flying out from under the blanket yelling, “Who do you think you are, Paul McCartney?” **

Since leaving the hospital, [Arwen (21yo)] had reared Little Malcolm in her cramped lodgings in West Hampstead. At some point, around the age of six months, he was put up for adoption, leaving her care lock, stock, and barrel, with Mal’s teddy bear as the baby’s only consolation. Mal’s diary would enumerate lunches and telephone calls with the young woman at various points across 1969, but eventually, Arwen chose to move on, putting the whole painful episode behind her. ***

[For his son's birthday] Mal made a cassette recording in which he offered his sincere wishes for the coming year. [...] But any goodwill Mal hoped to deliver was quickly undone that morning as Gary listened to the recording over breakfast with his mother and sister. To his incredible pain and embarrassment, the tape didn’t end with his father’s birthday greeting. Apparently, Mal had recycled the cassette, and as Gary and his sister prepared to go to school, they heard the unmistakable sounds of Fran fellating their dad. The boy’s only solace was the knowledge that his eight-year-old sister didn’t understand the sounds emanating from the tape player.

[..]for the first time, Fran found herself afraid of her boyfriend, whose darkness had never been more acute. It all came to a head one night when Mal, drunk to the gills, began threatening her with his Colt Woodsman pistol, at one point placing the gun against her head before discharging it into the washing machine. When he sobered up, Mal couldn’t have been more apologetic, swearing to mend his ways and be the boyfriend she deserved.

____________________________________

Another quote under the cut, with trigger warning for rape and attempted suicide - and a few notes about some of it.

____________________________________

June 1964 - New Zealand

At the time, the official story involved a twenty-year-old female fan who, having secreted her way into the hotel, chose to slash her wrists in Mal’s room after being unable to talk her way into the Beatles’ suite. Fortunately, police caught sight of the young woman through a window and broke down the locked door with a battering ram. She was subsequently taken to a local hospital and discharged that same day.

[There are then some bits about how Derek tried to ensure it didn't link back to the Beatles in anyway, and the way the press reported it as "Girl Tries To Die For Beatles", and someone else claiming she'd actually had sex with someone and then got 'hysterical' because she realised he wasn't going to get her in to see the Beatles... but eventually it cuts to the quote from Mal's diary below.]

“On arriving back at the hotel at two in the morning,” he wrote, “I was greeted by a crowd of police and detectives as the elevator doors opened at my floor. On verifying that I occupied a particular room number, they very solemnly escorted me there, where to my horror on opening the door, I found the bathroom and bedroom covered in blood. Apparently, what had happened [was] several people had gang-banged her in my bedroom. She was so distraught, she took a razor blade from my razor and slashed her wrists, but was discovered in time and recovered in hospital. Obviously I was a prime suspect, but I had the best alibi in the world—I was drinking tea with her mother.” ****

____________________________________

* Victoria was 16, and Mal was 31. He wrote with her for a few years and met up with her again several times, and there's a quote where she says she "thought she was in love with him", and another where she was surprised to find out he was married. He's a grown man with a family and it's creepy as fuck that he was leading on/grooming a 16 year old girl - although I think according to the book they never had sex.

** I've bolded a lot of the wording which fucks me the fuck off in that passage about apple scruffs, what a fucking weird piece of writing. Apparently apparently apparently - I don't even think he's using it to suggest it might not be true, I think he's just using it to make it sound a bit casual, oh turns out he was just treating them like shit like he used to! Oh he was just 'cozying up' ??????? The last bit also feels like the girl being able to fight her corner and tell him off is being used to suggest it therefore didn't matter - not to suggest that there were probably lots of other girls who didn't want his hands on them but didn't know how to say no. It's also quickly followed by a quote of another apple scruff saying he took care of them like a big brother and they all loved him. Which is fine. But teenage girls feeling as though the creepy guy who is being nice to them in order to take advantage is just being nice to them, doesn't mean much. It's creepy that he was trying to befriend the young vulnerable girls that idolised anyone who worked with Beatles, you've literally just said he was doing it in a 'transactional manner'.

*** The author used a pseudonym for Arwen - a young woman that Mal had an affair and a child with. He wrote in his diary when the child was born, and visited them, "gifting the boy with an oversize teddy bear from Harrods". Personally I think 'chose to move on' covers an awful lot of pain very glibly. Imagine having to give your baby away after six months, imagine what she went through. It is not a small thing that he carelessly got a young woman pregnant and then offered her nothing.

**** I think we all live in Beatles fandom knowing that the people we enjoy did awful terrible things, but sometimes it's good to confront how bad it was, even if we'll never know who was involved in this particular incident. Or how often it happened to other women. Whether Beatles were involved here or not, they were around this, they were inside it. They were influenced by and friends with horrible people. Imagine writing that in your diary like it's a good joke that you were having tea with her mum while she was going through that, and not how awful that would actually feel if you had a heart. The author adds that this incident affected Mal, saying, "His “demon” persona was still alive and well, to be sure, but there would be perceptible shifts in his outlook as the group’s touring days moved forward." I didn't really pick up on these, so I'm not sure how so.

[nomie-11]

Chapter 27 - Starchild Rising

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Genevieve!” Genevieve’s mother called out, her eyes flickering with joy in the sunlight. “Don’t go too far!”

“I won’t!” Her little voice carried far in the wind. May was Genevieve’s favorite month of the year, despite being born on the spring solstice in April, because the flowers bloomed after it rained all April, and the fields cleared for her to run through. “I promise, mama!”

And the little girl laughed as she ran, her bare feet sinking into the soft earth as the sun bathed the world in golden warmth. Genevieve’s heart soured with the freedom of youth, her long hair flowing like ribbons behind her. The world felt boundless, safe. The meadow stretched endlessly before her, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the hum of bees. In this place, everything was perfect, untouched by darkness. 

She darted between the tall grasses, her giggles echoing in the open air. Her small hands reached for the wildflowers, gathering them in bunches of color—violet purples, lily whites, poppy reds. 

Her mother’s voice was distant now, but Genevieve paid it no mind. She felt invincible. The sky seemed as endless as her dreams, and the meadow was a world where nothing could go wrong. 

But the memory, vivid in her unconscious mind, suddenly darkened. The sunlight dimmed as if clouded by an unseen force. The flowers in her hands faded to black and withered, turning brittle and dry, crumbling to ash. The wind, once warm and inviting, turned cold, biting at her skin. 

“Genevieve!” Her mother’s voice, once filled with joy, was sharp now, almost panicked. “Genevieve, come back!”

The little girl turned to run back toward the sound of her mother’s voice, but the meadow had changed. The grass was no longer soft, but sharp and thorny. It cut at her feet, leaving trails of blood behind. She stumbled, fear swelling in her chest as the world around her seemed to close in. 

Her mother was nowhere to be seen. 

“Mama!” she cried out, but only the cold wing answered her. The vibrant colors of the world faded to gray, the sky turning an oppressive shade of stormy black. 

Suddenly, there was a figure in the distance—a shadowy form in dark purple robes with blood red eyes that loomed large, watching her. This was no longer a memory but a nightmare, but Geneiveve, even in this child form, could feel the malice emanating from it. She backed away, her heart pounding, but her feet wouldn’t move fast enough. 

A voice, deep and menacing, whispered through the air, “you will never be free.”

Genevieve’s breath came in panicked gasps as the shadow advanced. The ground beneath her feet cracked open, and she fell, tumbling into darkness. 

The last thing she heard before the ground closed up around her, and the darkness consumed her, was her mother's voice, faint and filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry, my starchild…” 

Genevieve’s body twitched in the present, her unconscious form lying broken and battered. The fever dream blurred the lines between past and present, pain and memory. Until she shot up in her bed. 

 A horrid cough wracks her body for a second, before she immediately pushes the covers off of herself and attempts to stand, startling Xaden out of his wide eyed trance. Clattering to the floor, Genevieve’s shaking hand made contact with the nearest trash bin and pulled it in close, throwing up stomach bile and tears. 

Xaden was on her in seconds, his hands steady as they rubbed her back in slow, comforting circles. “Gen, you’re safe,” he whispered, though his voice was thick with worry. She could barely hear him over the sound of her own retching. 

Her body convulsed, violently rejecting whatever remnants of the poison still lingered in her system. Her hands shook uncontrollably, her vision blurred with tears and nausea. The taste of bile stung the back of her throat, and her chest heaved with every gasping breath. 

When the heaving finally subsided, Genevieve slumped forward, trembling, her forehead resting against the cool metal of the trash bin. her entire body felt weak, drained, like every ounce of energy has been ripped from her veins. 

“Here,” Xaden’s voice was closer now, softer. He crouched beside her, holding out a glass of water that he had clearly been holding onto for hours—no, days, in hopes that she would wake up and take it from him. She flinched at his touch, her mind still reeling from the nightmare, from the searing pain that had held her captive. 

“Don’t—” Her voice cracked, rough like sandpaper and barely above a whisper. She couldn’t even meet his eyes, couldn’t even bear to see whatever mix of emotions he might be feeling—anger, guilt, maybe even pity. She wanted none of it. 

“Don’t what? What’s wrong?” His voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something more. Desperation? Fear? It was hard to tell. 

“Don’t touch me,” She croaked, pulling herself away from him, even though every muscle in her body screamed in protest. Her arms shook as she tried to push herself off the floor, but she didn’t make it far before she collapsed once more, tears stinging her eyes. “What even happened?”

Xaden hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering near her back before he withdrew it slowly, respecting her wish for space. His jaw tightened as he looked down at her, the weight of the situation crashing over him like a wave. “You… saved Violet,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “You nearly died doing it.” 

Genevieve squeezed her eyes shut, her breath hitching as memories of the battle of Liam’s last words, and of Violet’s pale, dying face came flooding back. Her fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. “Liam…?” She didn’t dare ask, didn’t want to hear the answer, but she couldn’t stop herself. 

Xaden’s expression darkened, the weight of his silence crushing her. “He’s gone, Genevieve,” he said after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper. “He… he made sure you got to Violet. He knew what it would cost.”

The room seemed to close in around her, the air suddenly thick and suffocating. Genevieve shook her head, denying the truth, her heart shattering anew. “No… no, no, no.” Her voice broke, and she pressed her hands to her forehead, trying to stifle the sobs rising in her throat. 

Xaden knelt beside her again, close but not touching, his own grief etched in the hard lines of his face. “I’m sorry, Gen,” he murmured, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. “Liam… he knew. He knew what you had to do, and he made the choice.”

Genevieve shook her head violently, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I should’ve saved him,” she choked out, her voice thick with guilt and regret. “I promised him. I promised I’d save him and Violet, and I—I couldn’t… I couldn’t save him” 

“You did what he asked, Genevieve,” Xaden said, his tone firm, but still gentle enough to not startle her. “He didn’t want you to stay. He wanted you to save her. He wanted you to live.” 

Genevieve couldn’t hold back the sobs any longer, her body wracked with the force of her grief. The weight of everything she had lost—Liam, her friends, even pieces of herself—was too much to bear. She had done what Liam asked, but at what cost? She had sacrificed a part of her life force to Violet, and now… now she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel whole again.

“Genevieve—” Xaden moved to catch her before she could fall fully, his grip firm but not overbearing. He didn’t let her fall, but he also didn’t force her to stay. “You need to drink the water.” 

She wanted to push him away, to shout at him, to scream that none of this was fair. That the world had twisted her, torn her apart, and left her with nothing but ashes and the guilt of the lives she couldn’t save. But the words wouldn’t come. The fight was gone, replaced by a hollowness so deep it consumed her. 

“You should have let me die.” The words slipped out, unbidden, harsh, raw. 

Xaden’s expression hardene. “You don’t get to say that.” His voice was sharp now, cutting through the lingering fog in her mind. “Not after what you’ve been through. Not after everything they’ve done to keep you alive.” 

She laughed bitterly, hand moving to her head to ease the headache that still persisted, though her laugh was more sounding like a wheeze than anything. “Keep me alive for what, Xaden? To keep fighting? to be fed more lies? To watch more people die? I couldn’t even save—” Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow down the tears. Now Xaden knows that she remembers everything. “I couldn’t save him.” 

Xaden’s eyes darkened, shadows flickering across his face as her words cut through the room like jagged glass. He sat back slightly, his jaw clenching tight. “Don’t do that, Genevieve. Don’t blame yourself for Liam’s death.” 

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, the exhaustion melting away just enough to let the raw anger, the pain, and the guilt rise to the surface. “How can I not? I promised him, Xaden. I promised that I would go back, that I would save him once I saved Violet. I was supposed to get him out alive, and now he’s gone.”

Xaden’s hand hovered just shy of touching her shoulder, like he wanted to comfort her but knew she would recoil. His voice was low and steady, but there was an edge to it—sharp, but forgiving. “Liam made his own choices. We all did. And I won’t let you destroy yourself over something you couldn’t control.” 

Her throat tightened, tears threatening to fall, but she swallowed them back. “You weren’t there,” she whispered. “You didn’t see his face, hear his scream, see the way he looked at me. He trusted me, and I failed.” 

Xaden fumbles for a moment, shoving his hand into his pocket to retrieve a carving of two dragons. The two dragons were unmistakable, the larger one was Tairn, no doubt, but the smaller one wasn’t Sgaeyl or Astrape. It was Deigh. The two dragons stood side by side, each and every scale intricately arranged. 

She turns in his direction, her gaze immediately lockeding on the figurine, and her eyes water. “It’s my fault,” she whispers once more. 

“No, it’s mine. If I had just told you everything sooner, you would have been prepared. Hell, you and Violet probably could have figured out how to kill them.” Xaden’s heart breaks all over again as she swipes at the twin tears with the back of her hands. He sets the carving down in the palm of her good hand. “I know I should have, but I couldn’t bear to burn it. We laid him to rest yesterday. Well, the others did. I haven’t left this room since we got here.” Their gazes collide, and it takes all of his strength not to reach out for her, but he knows he’s the last place she’ll seek for comfort now. “I haven’t left you.” 

“You shouldn’t have brought me back here,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, barely audible. “You shouldn’t have risked everything.”

Xaden hesitated for a moment, then leaned closer. “We didn’t go back to Basgiath, Gen.” 

Her eyes snapped open at that. Confusion clouded her expression as she looked around again, realizing for the first time that the room wasn’t familiar. It didn’t have the cold stone walls of Basgiath. There were no healers bustling around or familiar faces from the war college. Everything was quieter, softer, as if the world outside this room was… peaceful. 

“Where are we?” She croaked, throat still burning. 

Xaden stood, moving toward the window. He didn’t answer immediately, instead drawing back the heavy curtains to reveal the view beyond. Genevieve squinted, her head throbbing, but as her vision cleared, her breath caught in her chest. 

The city outside was familiar. It wasn’t crumbled, so no, it couldn't be… this wasn’t the ruined Aretia she remembered from the rebellion’s devastation. It was rebuilt. The stone towers, the arched bridges, the marketplace teeming with life—it was like a memory of a place that should have been long gone. But it was real, standing tall against the horizon, bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun.

“We’re home,” Xaden said quietly, his back to her as he looked out over the city. “Aretia.” 

Genevieve’s heart stuttered in disbelief. “But… how?” 

He turned to face her, his expression serious but soft. “You know how.”

Genevieve’s breath hitched as she processed his words, her gaze flicking between Xaden and the city beyond the window. Aretia, her home, wasn’t lost. It had risen from cinders and fallen pillars of smoke and ash. 

“You’ve… rebuilt it,” she whispered, barely believing it herself. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, Genevieve didn’t know what to say. The weight of her guilt and her pain still hung heavily on her, but there was something else now, too. A glimmer of hope—fait, but undeniable. 

With some miraculous wave of strength, Genevieve pushed herself to a stand. “Give me like ten seconds to get dressed, and then you have a lot to spill.” 

“Kicking me out of my own room,” he reaches for that sarcastic, teasing tone he used to use with her before… everything flipped upside down. “That's a new one.” 

“Now, Riorson.” 

Ouch. Xaden can’t help but wince. Genevieve never uses his last name. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t like to remember the world her father isolated her from when mentioning Fen Riorson, but he’s always been Xaden to her. The loss feels like a bottomless abyss, a death blow to every ounce of hope he was clinging to in their relationship. “Bathing chamber is through there. Call if you need anything, ok?” He points to the far wall and strides for the exit, swinging his sword over his back on the way out. 

As he leaves, Bodhi is leaned up against the wall, talking to Garick, who’s boasting a new six-inch scar from temple to jaw, but they both fall silent as he shuts the door behind him. They tense and Garrick stands to his full height. “She’s awake.” 

“Thank Amari,” Bodhi says, his shoulders sagging. His arm is still in a sling, recovering from the four places a venin fractured it. 

“And the poison? Is her hair still all weird?” Garrick asks, concern in his eyes. He’s already told Xaden that he thinks the effects will be temporary, or won’t really affect her on a daily, but the real worry is for Xaden’s mental state if she doesn’t forgive him for not telling her sooner. 

“The black is mostly faded from her hair, just a few streaks here or there,” Xaden shrugged, glancing back at the door to his room which held the very girl they were talking about. “Any word from the fliers?”

“Syrena is alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Bodhi answers. “So is her sister. But the rest…” He shakes his head. 

At least they made it out, and now that Genevieve is awake, Xaden can finally breathe. “You figure out that that box was that Chradh was drawn to back at Resson?” He asks. Garrick’s dragon is apparently remarkably sensitive to runes, which allowed them to retrieve a small iron box beneath the rubble of the clock tower Violet had blown up. 

“No clue. They’re working on it right now. Hopefully we’ll have an answer in the next couple of hours. I’m glad she’s all right, Xaden. I’ll tell Violet and the others.” He nods once and heads down the hall confidently, knowing the castle lay out almost as well as Xaden does, considering he spent every summer in this very building, in this wing, before the apostasy.

Bodhi wrinkles his nose. 

“What?” 

“No wonder she kicked you out. You smell like dragon ass.” 

“Fuck off,” But he catches a whiff, and can’t argue. “I’m using your room.”

“I’ll consider it a personal favor, your majesty.” Bodhi snickers. 

Xaden flips him off, and heads to his room. 

—----------------------------------------

An hour later, Xaden is bathed and impatiently waiting outside of his own room in a fresh set of leathers with Bodhi, who’s doing his best to lighten Xaden’s irrevocably dark mood like he always is, when the door opens and Genevieve is just standing there. 

He nearly swallows his tongue at the sight of her unbound, damp hair curling just above her shoulders. She awkwardly glances between Bodhi and Xaden, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her own fresh set of leathers, that was definitely not originally hers. 

Bodhi grins, flashing a smile that looks exactly the same way Xaden’s aunts used to. “Good to see you up and about, Hale.” Then he smacks Xaden on the shoulder as he walks off, looking back over his shoulder. “I’ll go fetch the backup plan. Good luck.” 

She looks back at Xaden, and with her good arm, she struggles to put her hair up into a bun, before just huffing in annoyance. “I would normally just have Violet do it,” she grumbles. “Well, come back in, you’ve got shit to explain.” 

“As long as you've invited me.” He walks in, loathing the distrust and discomfort in her eyes. 

Genevieve moved toward the small wooden desk by the window—his small wooden desk by the window—her steps slow and deliberate, her body still aching from the aftereffects of the poison and the battle. She sat down with a quiet exhale, her gaze fixed on the city beyond the glass, not looking at Xaden as he approached. 

Xaden took a cautious step into his own bedroom, unsure of where to begin. His mind raced with everything he needed to explain—why they had left Basgiath, why they had come here, the rebellion, the secrets he had kept from her. The weight of it all pressed down on him, and for a moment, he wondered if any of it would matter. Would she ever trust him again?

“Is this all original?” She asks, her gaze sweeping over his bedroom. 

“The majority of the fortress is stone,” He says as she studies the detailed arches at the ceiling, the natural lighting from the windows that consume the western wall. “Stone doesn’t burn.”

“Right.” She nods. “And my manor…?”

Xaden’s gaze flickered with hesitation before he answered, his voice low and cautious. “It’s in ruin, abandoned, Genevieve. No one has touched a single thing since you were taken.” He watched as her face tightened, but she remained silent, staring out the window as if the city beyond could give her back what she had lost. 

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, he thought she might lash out, but instead, she let out a long, shaky breath, as if steeling herself for the inevitable truth. “So, nothing from my old life remains,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. 

“The manor is still standing, but not of use, no.” His throat felt tight, knowing that her entire world had crumbled in ways she hadn’t even been conscious of. “But we salvaged some things. I had them brought here.”

That got her attention. She turned slowly to face him, a flicker of curiosity cutting through her otherwise guarded expression. “What things?”

“Personal items. A few heirlooms. I couldn’t save much, but your father’s journals… they’re intact.” 

Genevieve blinked, a brief flicker of emotion crossing her face before it was gone, replaced by the same hollow exhaustion she had carried since waking. She glanced away, the weight of her father’s legacy hanging in the air between them. 

“The journals,” she echoed softly, her voice distant. “Of course.”

”I can get them for you if—”

“No.” Her voice was sharper than she intended, and she shook her head quickly. “Not now. I… I can’t deal with that right now.” 

Xaden nodded, not pushing any further. He could see how much it took just to stay upright, to focus on the conversation. “That’s fine. Whenever you’re ready.” He swallows. Hard. “I think after all you’ve seen, the question I have to ask before I tell you anything more is pretty simple. Are you in? Are you willing to fight with us?” She could just as easily decide to turn them all in. She didn’t know enough to condemn him before, but she does now. 

“I’m in,” She nods, her eyes narrowing at the mere prospect of the question. 

Relief surges through him in a rush more powerful than anything he could channel from Sgaeyl, and he reaches for her. “I’m so sorry I had to keep…” His words die on his tongue as she steps back, avoiding him. 

“Not happening.” A world of hurt flashes in her light eye, and he withers. “Just because I believe you and am willing to fight with you doesn’t mean I’ll trust you with my heart again. And I can’t be with someone I don’t trust.” 

Something in his chest crumples. “I’ve never lied to you, Gen. Not once. And I never will.” 

She stands at the window and looks down, then slowly turns back to him, her hand snaking around her ribs as if trying to ease some pain or pressure. “It’s not even that you kept this from me. I get why you did it. It’s the ease with which you did it. You let me love you, you let me trust you with my heart, and promised it in return.” She shakes her head, and he sees it there, the love, but it’s masked behind defenses he had once crumbled but now foolishly rebuilt. “And you didn’t give me it in return.” 

But he loves her, of course he loves her, he loved her months ago and he loves her now, but if he tells her now, she’ll think he’s saying it for all the wrong reasons. And honestly, he is. But he will not lose the only woman he’s ever fallen for without a fight. “You’re right. I kept secrets,” he admits, pressing forward again, taking step after step until he’s less than a foot from her. He palms the glass on both sides of her head, loosely caging her in, but they both know she could walk away if she wanted. But she doesn’t move. “It took me a long time to trust you, and an even longer time for me to realize I fell for you.” 

Someone knocks, they ignore it. 

“Don’t say that.” She lifts her chin, but he doesn’t miss the way she glances at his mouth. 

“I fell for you,” he lowers his head and looks straight into her gorgeous eyes. She might be rightfully pissed, but she sure as Malek isn’t fickle. “And you know what? You might not trust me anymore, but you still love me.”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t deny it. 

“You reminded me why I don’t give out my trust easily, and it will be very hard for me to give it to you again.” She masks the hurt with a quick blink, a perfect porcelain mask slipping right into place. 

Never again, Xaden thinks. Those eyes will never reflect the hurt I’ve inflicted ever again. 

“I fucked up by not telling you sooner, and I won’t even try to justify my reasons. But now, I’m trusting you with my life—with everyone’s lives.” He risked it all just by bringing her back here instead of taking her body to Basgiath. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know and everything you don’t. I’ll spend every single day for the rest of my life earning back your trust if it means I get to spend it with you.” 

Genevieve blinks. She’s forgotten what it felt like to be loved, really truly loved. And he’d forgotten as well. It’s been so many years since his father died. And his mom… not going there. But then Geneiveve gave him those words, gave him her trust, her heart, and he remembered. She remembered, too. He’d be damned if he doesn’t fight to keep it. 

“And if it’s not possible?” 

“You still love me. It’s possible.” Gods, do I ache to kiss her, to remind her exactly what we are together, but I won’t, not until she asks. “I’m not afraid of hard work, especially not when I know just how sweet the rewards are. I would rather lose this entire war than live without you and if that means I have to prove myself over and over, then I’ll do it. You have my heart, and I’m keeping yours.” 

Her eyes widen, as if she’s finally seeing the resolve within him. 

It’s time she knew everything. Knowing Genevieve, he knew she wouldn’t stay tucked away, safe behind Basgiath’s walls, especially not now that she knows just how corrupt those walls are. And whether or not he likes it, Violet is going to come along as well. 

She’ll fight this war at his side. 

There’s another insistent knock at the door. 

“Fuck is she impatient,” he mutters. “You have about twenty seconds to ask a question, if I know her.” 

She blinks. “I’m still hoping that the missive at Athebyne was really about the War Games. Do you think there's any chance we just happened to end up in the middle of a wyvern attack at that outpost?” 

“That definitely wasn’t an accident, my girl,” she says from the doorway. 

Xaden sighs and moves to the side, watching Genevieve’s eyes widen as she sees her standing in the doorway. “Told you I knew someone better than Nolon,” He says softly. 

“Mother?” She stares at the woman in the doorway, her own mouth open in shock. 

Aviva Hale just grins and opens her arms. 

“Oh, my starchild, what have they done to you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

And that's a wrap on the main chapters of Fourth Wing!! We will have one more chapter, a brief epilogue will be posted on Saturday and then my longer final notes will be posted along with that.

What did we think? Good plot twist? I don't think anyone expected her mother to show up (she didn't expect it either-yikes sorry gen). How do we think Genevieve will take her mother's presence? We havent even talked to Violet yet, theres so much to do!

Anyways, thats it for now! I'll see you with the epilogue on saturday and then that will be a wrap on the wounded healer! As always, if you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, or kudo, and I'll see you on Saturday!

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Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml

[petaltexturedskies]

A lily-girl, not made for this world's pain,

With brown, soft hair close braided by her ears,

And longing eyes half veiled by slumberous tears

Like bluest water seen through mists of rain:

Pale cheeks whereon no love hath left its stain,

Red underlip drawn in for fear of love,

And white throat, whiter than the silvered dove,

Through whose wan marble creeps one purple vein.

Yet, though my lips shall praise her without cease,

Even to kiss her feet I am not bold,

Being o'ershadowed by the wings of awe,

Like Dante, when he stood with Beatrice

Beneath the flaming Lion's breast, and saw

The seventh Crystal, and the Stair of Gold.

Oscar Wilde, from “Madonna Mia” originally wr. 1881

[ninapi]

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Premise: The line between being rescued and captured can be very thin, it all depends on who gets to be in charge for the day. Battling against their own feelings, they were only allowed to feel one emotion each, even when they had feelings for the same person, they were really the same demon after all. Could it be possible they fell for a filthy treacherous human? Nah…

Word count: 4337

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Upper Moon Four╝

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hantengu wasn’t one of the most popular upper moons.

His squeaky cowardly self annoying everyone in the infinity castle to their cores. Though, that didn’t stop Muzan from entrusting him with a very important mission.

Even if in the end, the goal was there for every moon, Hantengu was personally tasked by the man himself to find the blue spider lily, he had to, there was no other choice.

Even if he wasn’t the strongest moon there was, he had an advantage the others didn’t, and that was the reason he was chosen for the task; he wasn’t one, but seven.

While he didn’t like to use his clones unless it was absolutely necessary, he knew he had the option to do so, and that was an advantage during reckoning missions. He could cover five times more land than if he was on his own.

But that wasn’t the case for this mission.

He had a lead, an important one.

The daughter of the local flower merchant had been talking way too much about this rare flower she’s been cultivating secretly, even behind her father’s back. If that wasn’t enough of a clue, she told someone it was a spiderlily, a beautiful one at that.

This had to be it, he was certain of that.

So going in his tiny form, he climbed into her basket full of flowers while she was attending her regular deliveries down town, allowing him to follow her home undetected.

When the basket was settled down though, a loud scream could be heard coming from the owner of the basket, prompting him to get out from his hiding place.

Her house was on fire, there was no structure left standing at this point, just a burning pile of ashes.

Even if you didn’t notice, he did.

About three members of the demon corps fled up into the mountains, while one of them was hiding something.

This had to be it, they figured it out as well and got rid of the evidence of its existence. But they forgot something very important.

If you did it once, you could do it twice.

And he had you in his possession now.

Though Muzan wouldn’t spare his life if he allows the demon corps to be in possession of said flower, he had to do something to stop them, fast.

Invoking his clones, he took two with him and sent the other two to keep you captive.

“Sekido, Karaku, take the girl to someplace safe, as far away from here as possible without driving attention to yourselves. Aizetsu, Urogi, you come with me, we need to stop those pesky rats before they manage to reach their camp.” even if he was trembling with fear at his own instructions, everyone listened and got to it immediately.

You were still stunned by the entire situation, your sickly mother was bed bound, there was no way she got to leave the house before it fell to the ground. Just thinking of the painful death she might have incurred in made you lose your senses to the outer world.

Noticing this, Sekido hit the back of your head with his staff, Karaku quickly reacting and catching you on the spot.

“Jeeze you could have said something before doing that, man…”

“There’s no time for that. Take her.” without further questioning, he cradled you to his chest, following his counter part deep into the forest.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Day 1: Anger

Sekido decided to take on the first watch.

They didn’t know what you were capable of, you were just a weakling, a human with not even one ability besides cultivating flowers, yet he knew you were valuable, having you escape was not an option.

“Karaku, you stay outside, make sure none of those rats followed us and report to me anything out of place.”

Sekido was bossy, everyone knew about this, but it still irked his own clones. Karaku was quite his opposite and not the best match to keep around an angry Sekido, but he’d do his best to not get in his way and enjoy the pleasures a bright full moon could bring, a little bottle of sake making its way out of his pocket as he chose the best rock to sit on and drink to his heart’s content.

They found an abandoned cottage in the middle of the forest, way far in the south. Nobody should even guess they were there, the obvious path to follow being north, or east even, but definitely not south.

The cottage was fully equipped yet clearly abandoned, so Sekido tied you to a chair while he laid on the bed in front of the fire, keeping an eye open at all times.

You’ve been unconscious for hours, but who knew when you’d wake up and try to escape, he couldn’t just rest.

As if on cue, your eyes started to flutter, the light coming from the fire hurting them. “Where am I…” you looked around, this was not your house, nor any you’ve ever visited, though the fire being so up close reminded you of your mother’s demise and how you no longer had a house. “Father…I must find him!” thrashing around on the chair, you realized you were tied and was until that moment you saw the handsome demon staring at you with disgust.

“Stop moving around woman, you won’t escape with me guarding you.” his anger display startled you, making you recoil into the safety of the chair. “W-where am I…?”

“Ugh, somewhere up a mountain, not sure myself. You won’t be going anywhere though, that much I can tell you.”

“But sir, my father, I must tell him what happened to mother and the house!”

“If you’re talking about the gray-haired man selling flowers downtown, I’m pretty sure he’s also been killed, by the demon corps, mind you, not us. Something to do with the flower you were cultivating secretly.” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You knew keeping secrets was a bad idea but why would someone be killed for a rare flower? This made no sense at all.

“The lily? Why would my house be burned to the ground and my family killed for a lonely flower sprout in a small pot, sir?”

“People stronger than you wanted it to themselves, you have no idea what you created.”

“I did nothing sir, the flowers cross pollinated on their own, I just separated it from the rest into a spare pot.” Sekido couldn’t care less for the process itself, he knew his main self wanted you to recreate it but that was honestly not his problem, his mission was to make sure you didn’t escape, that was all.

“Don’t talk to me like I was your friend, human. I’m here just to keep you from escaping not to listen to your rambling self.” his voice was gruff, came out as a low growl, a vein popping out of his forehead.

Until that very moment you hadn’t noticed his horns, this fascinating you more than it should. You should probably be nervous, terrified even, he was definitely not human, but he was beautiful, his eyes so alluring, you just couldn’t stop staring.

“What now?”

“N-nothing…was just looking around.” he could see through your bullshit, your lips were wet and trembling, your cheeks looked like a fall sunset, he’s never seen a reaction like that, all humans he’s met want to kill him right away and he wants to kill them just as much, but you had no blood thirst in the slightest, it was like if you were somewhat enjoying this.

You kept quiet for a while, not wanting to infuriate the demon that kept you captive any further, but your eyes kept wondering to his face, his long hair so shiny, probably super soft, his long fingers, the way one of them tapped on the mattress in annoyance each time he caught you staring, even his choice of clothing was entertaining to you, a fascinating subject, you almost wanted to paint him just to be able to remember his every bit, not like you could though, but one can dream.

Even if Sekido would tell you otherwise, each time he caught you staring, he wasn’t able to keep his own eyes away from your figure. The way your shyness battled the boldest side of you, the way you chewed on your lips, how you wiggled uncontrollably on the chair, how your chest raised and fell with your every breath. You were honestly a lovely prisoner, didn’t try to escape, followed commands, weren’t crying all the time, he wouldn’t mind this sort of missions more often, not like he would admit to any of this out loud of course.

“Sir?”

“Sekido.”

“Uhm?”

“Don’t call me sir, is disgusting. Call me Sekido, that’s my name.” you just nodded, smiling shyly his way.

“Sekido-san, can I have some water?” grumbling, he got up from the cot, pressing a water container he was carrying to your lips. The way you looked up at him through your lashes while wrapping your lips around the lid, entranced him like a spell, one he didn’t know the way out from.

Snapping from the dreamlike experience, he shoved some water roughly down your throat, then slammed the empty container against the floor angrily.

“There, now shut up, you’re not camping here, you’re a hostage. Don’t forget that.” without uttering another word he went out of the cottage enraged.

The sun was still far from coming out but he couldn’t handle it any longer, he’s never been this angry before, his hands were shaking, his entire body sweating, he couldn’t concentrate and all he wanted was to smash something, other than your lips with his own.

He needed to get out of there, quickly.

“Karaku, your turn. I must report my findings.” before getting an actual answer from his counterpart he disappeared into the forest, escaping from the surreal experience he didn’t know how to handle.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Day 2: Pleasure

When Karaku finished his sake, he went inside the cottage just to see you had fallen asleep.

It caused him to chuckle seeing your silly drolly face, the alcohol in his blood making everything a little funnier than it really was.

You couldn’t escape if you were asleep, even if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be able to undo Sekido’s knots, so he would just take a nap, sunrise was coming, the birds were out and about already signalizing time for bed had come.

When you woke up from your slumber your body ached tremendously, just like your head. The images of the traumatic experience of the previous night plus the uncertainty of not knowing if your father was still alive or not adding to your distressed tired body. The skin around your wrists was now raw, your back hurt badly and you really needed to pee.

You noticed the handsome demon from the night before was nowhere to be seen and had now been replaced by another that somewhat resembled him but not quite at the same time.

His face was so relaxed, he was completely asleep, mumbling and giggling on his sleep, his hand constantly scratching his belly; he reminded you of a cat taking a nap on a warm sunny day.

Very different to the one from last night, Sekido.

Though, this one was just as handsome and a bit less scary, at least for now.

“Excuse me sir, I need to relieve myself.” he didn’t even budge turning on his other side so you would face his back instead, prioritizing his nap. The sun was still out, were you out of your mind?

“Sir? Please, I really need to….” your shy mumbles caught his attention, you were wiggling and squeaking like a little mouse, interesting.

“Can’t you just do it there? This bed is too comfortable.”

“Sir please, I couldn’t do such thing…it’ll be just a moment I promise not to escape.” to this he just groaned, you wouldn’t let him sleep if he didn’t do something.

“And what’s in it for me? I let you pee, and what do I get for that?” his suggestive tone made you uncomfortable, you didn’t know how to handle men like this, suddenly Sekido felt like a safer option.

“What could I possibly offer in this condition, sir?”

“Oh, I can think of many things you could do while still being tied up like that, maybe use those pretty lips of yours? It wouldn’t be fair if only you got to relieve yourself….” his smirk was honestly terrifying, peeing there was suddenly a better idea.

“I…um…where’s Sekido-San?” your question threw him off, making him go back to the bed, he wouldn’t waste his time with someone so unwilling.

“The hell would I know. He’s not here that’s all you need to know.” he caught a glimpse of your saddened face, and somehow he couldn’t keep to himself, he needed to see more of that face.

If you wouldn’t indulge in his very entertaining practices he had to do something to take care of his needs.

“Why? You miss him? Old meanie Sekido made a friend?” his teasing tone of voice caused a hurt frown to cast over your features, eyes glossier than before.

“I do, if you may know. He was nicer with me.”

“He was what? Wait wait, are we talking about the same demon? How did his staff look like? Maybe we’re talking about a different clone.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir.” your trembling lip and saddened eyes were the responsible of the waves crashing insides his gut right now, he wanted to see your tears, wanted to hear you cry. He didn’t know pleasure could take this form, it had always been either carnal or bloody in the past, it confused him.

“Well he’s not here and never will be again, so deal with it. You won’t be alive for long anyways.” that’s all it took for your resolution to crumble, you were tired, in pain, worried, sad, hungry, tears kept coming out of your eyes like little waterfalls decorating your rosy cheeks, the light reflecting on them and turning your beautiful face into an iridescent work of art.

Karaku didn’t know what came over him but he had the need to feel you, his hand coming to wrap around your face, squishing the soft skin of your cheeks in awe. Who would have thought humans could be this pretty when broken? He’s been missing out, maybe toying with food wasn’t so bad after all.

“Stop it, you’re hurting me!” but the only thing leaving his lips at your pained outburst was a sultry low moan, his face turning in delight at the feeling of your tears going down his hand while you wiggled under him, powerless.

Panic filled your insides when someone walked into the cottage. For a second you thought it was Sekido, even if he was scary he would at least keep his distance and treat you accordingly, your current captor being as terrifying as one could be.

“Karaku, your turn to chase the rats away. We killed two, well Sekido did. We are still missing the one with the flower.” this creature was different from the other two, even if they basically had the same face, this one had wings; things were escalating quickly.

Karaku was still in a post bliss high, he didn’t know he could feel so much by doing so little, he wanted more of this, wanted to take you away and hide you someplace else, his main body would know about it, but not the other clones, he could keep you to himself without his other sides knowing.

Oh boy, all the things he could do to you….

But before he could keep dreaming of wonderful things, a gust of wind made him back off from you and out of the cottage.

“Now Karaku, I won’t face Sekido’s rage again, not because of you.” the sly grin on his face and the way he spoke somehow brought a sense of safety, he didn’t seem as intense, didn’t seem interested.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Day 3: Joy

Honestly Urogi preferred hunting the kids in the forest, it was way more fun, he’d get to fly around, play with them for hours, but now that Sekido was supervising the entire thing he wasn’t allowed to do as he wished, and was very much intrigued by his counterpart’s decision of sending him to guard you instead of Karaku.

Sekido had barked his instructions out, even angrier than usual. He was to come and take Karaku out of the cottage, not let him anywhere near the captive human. His instructions were usually more vague but it was clear to him he didn’t want Karaku around you for some reason. Not like he cared, honestly. All he wanted was someone to play with.

“So you’re the human girl Sekido is protecting. I see.”

“Protecting? Am I not a prisoner?”

“Oh you are, darling. But I was sent out to protect you from Karaku. Seems like I arrived just in time am I right?” he was smiling at you from his seat, his wings flapping behind him in a playful manner, it made your tears dry out on their own, a smile mirroring his own coming your way.

“You did. Thank you.” this caused the winged demon to flush uncomfortably, he isn’t used to others thanking him for anything, it was fun though, a wholesome experience, made his grin grow wider.

“Did he feed you? Sekido told me you hadn’t eaten when he left.” you shook your head, a loud noise coming from your stomach at the mention of food making Urogi burst out laughing.

“Karaku is such an idiot, I caught this fish on my way here.” he held a very much dead sweet water fish by its tail, pulling it out of his pants pocket as if it was the most normal thing to do in the world, making you chuckle. “Will you be cooking it or do you need some help?”

Your sweet laugh was invigorating, felt similar to when he’s roaming the skies freely, he thinks he can understand now the way Sekido and even Karaku was acting around you, you weren’t like the other humans who feared them, you weren’t food, but someone entertaining to have around, even for the grumpiest of them.

“Can you cook? I’ve always wanted a woman cooking for me, but I always end up eating them first.” he chuckled reaching behind your back to untie the intricate knot.

“Thank goodness I taste awfully then.” you laughed together for what felt like hours, the fish turning out great as you cooked it over an improvised bonfire with sticks as your only tools, the stars above you being the only witness of the odd pairing nightly adventure.

This one was fun, you learned his name was Urogi and he even showed you his tongue so you could see the kanji on it closely and stop staring, the act was more intimate than both of you had anticipated though and ended up in a cuddling session of sorts. More like he pulled you over to his chest while you both laid on the grass enjoying the beautiful starry sky above.

It didn’t feel like you were a prisoner anymore, he even made you forget about the awful couple of days you’ve had, though it was an odd feeling and you couldn’t keep it away from your gut.

You could escape if you wanted to, but being with Urogi was better than affronting a painful reality and that’s all what’s left for you back home.

Another night went by, another demon by your side, a tender one this time, but a demon indeed, his wings and horns being a constant reminder that you were in danger and probably wouldn’t live for long.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Day 4: Sorrow

Spending such a long time with demons made you get used to sleeping throughout the day, sunset being your new sunrise.

Urogi was happily humming a silly tune while skinning a small forest animal for breakfast when a very agitated Aizetsu came running in his direction.

“Where’s the human?”

“Ugh, inside why?” he thought he’d be the one in charge of taking care of you, that’s what Sekido had said the day before, why was Aizetsu there now?

“I will take her, you go cause a distraction.”

“Aizetsu what the fuck is going on, use your words properly.” groaning, he got up from the log he was sitting on, discarding your breakfast in annoyance.

“The flower, we found it. It wasn’t blue. She must be eliminated.”

Panic surged through Urogi’s veins, he thought you’d be staying with them for the long run, if Douma had human slaves they could certainly have one, right? They all liked her, he was sure Muzan-sama would allow it, all they had to do was convince Hantengu.

“What? Why? Even if it wasn’t blue, she knows how to make this weird color flowers, she might be able to get it done!” a defensive arm and wing came to block the entrance of the cottage, now afraid of his own counterpart.

A sad long sigh came out of Aizetsu’s lips, gently removing his other half’s arm out of the way, “I’m not trying to kill her, Urogi. I was sent here by Sekido to help her escape.”

Nodding in understanding, he moved out of the way calling for you, “(Y/N) darling, he’s Aizetsu, one of us. He’s going to help you get away safely, ok?” one of his hands cradled your face as if it was made of glass, his eyes roaming over your beautiful features to remember them properly.

“What about you? And Sekido-san? He’s still not back.” it filled his heart with warmth and joy how you didn’t want to leave them, how you worried about them, he was so full of happiness that it hurt.

“I’ll buy you some time, be safe.” he kissed the tip of your nose before flying out of the cottage, Aizetsu carrying your weeping self out of the back and into a darker side of the forest.

He ran silently for a good couple of hours until he felt it was safe enough to put you down, remembering he had cut your breakfast short with his appearance.

Kicking a tree, he caught an apple placing it on your hand as he sat quietly on the opposite direction.

You smiled at his kind selfless action, enjoying the sweet treat while admiring your not so captor anymore and more like savior. “Thank you for helping me, you’re very kind.”

“I’m no such thing, I’m a demon. Just following orders. It was very sad seeing Sekido so desperate. We share the same core after all.”

“Does that mean you all feel the same thing at the same time?” that intrigued you, they all looked the same but were so different from each other.

“Not really. We can only feel an emotion each, that’s kind of our thing.”

“So you’re always sad…?” he just nodded, his fingers playing with the straps of his shoes.

“And Sekido-san is always angry…Urogi-kun happy….how about that Karaku guy? he was…difficult to read….” your declaration made Aizetsu laugh just a tiny bit, it was a refreshing sight, “pleasure….”

“Oh…makes sense….” your face was as red as a tomato, even in the darkness of the dense forest he could see it.

It was immensely sad being able to understand his other parts, he knew just by spending some hours with you why they wanted to protect you, why they wanted you for themselves, but their actual form wanted you dead, unable to fight against his lordship’s wishes.

“Where are we going by the way?” the sun wasn’t too far away from coming and you were still pretty exposed, you knew he need to find shelter soon or he’d be in troubles.

“We aren’t going anywhere, just you. This is where we go in different directions to distract our main body, he thinks you’re with me, so he’ll follow me while you reach a safe place.”

“But the sun is almost up…can’t you come with me…? I was told the sun hurts you....” it clouded his heart to see how you were so concerned for his well-being, gut wrenching, tears were pooling on the side of his eyes, life was just so beautifully sad…

“I’ll be fine. You need to go now, he’s getting closer. Find a safe place to hide and don’t come out of there for a week. Never go back to your old house…or you’ll get yourself killed…”

He got up, dusting his pants as he got ready to leave when he felt your tiny hand clutching at his wrist, “But what about you guys? How do I get to find you…?” your eyes reflected his, sadness had never been a shared feeling among those who surrounded him, they were always angry or scared, this was the first time he felt understood, a stray tear leaving one of his beautiful eyes as he removed your hand gently away from him. “It’s very unlikely we’ll ever see each other again, and that’s for the best; otherwise we’d have to kill you next time.”

Leaving someone behind had never been this hard, being one split into different bodies had never been this heavy.

Once Hantengu absorbed them all back a flood of feelings kept pouring deep into his shaky terrified heart.

He would get killed if his lordship ever finds out that his clones had all fallen in love with a human rat…a lovely…beautiful human rat at that.

Being a demon, had never felt this lonely before.

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Masterlist Next Chapter

[andreafmn]

Running in Circles | Chapter 10

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: mentions of death, religious trauma

Summary: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss, and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

A/N: a few days behind is better than a whole year 🫣 anywho very sentimental chapter ahead

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Winter had come at full force that December, and maybe that was the first sign of all that was to come. But for (Y/N), it only signified the anniversary of her mother’s death.

Just like she had done every year before, she had taken that day off, knowing her mind would be elsewhere, and her body would want to be there. Even if it fell on a weekend, she had to be sure that no calls would disturb the day. The monsters could wait one more day.

She looked herself over in the mirror. The turtleneck she had chosen felt particularly choking, her pants hung too low for comfort, and her mother’s necklace stood out too brightly against the dark clothing. Nothing was right. Nothing would ever be right. She pushed her hair behind her shoulders and sighed. That was as good as it would ever get.

She slipped her coat on before she left her house, and she wondered what her mother would have thought of her home. Would she have wanted her closer to the family home? Would she have liked the décor? Would she have poked fun at how messy the house could sometimes get, or would she not have cared at all?  Those were answers she would never get. At least not from the one person that mattered the most.

Her father’s car was waiting outside for her, his face wearing a similar solemn look to the one she had. It was the same routine every year. He’d come to pick her up, they’d go to the cemetery, and when David would tell stories of Iris, she would listen. Because she had none to share of her own. She had no memories, no stories, nothing to know of her mother that was her own.

“Hey, dad,” she said as she jumped into the SUV. “It’s a cold one today.”

“It really is,” he chuckled softly “I brought you some coffee and a butter croissant. Something tells me you didn’t eat breakfast today.”

“You know me too well, dad,” she snickered, taking the warm cup between her hands to heat her freezing hands. “Did you eat already?”

“Had myself a bowl of oatmeal with berries and bananas like your mom used to like,” he replied. “Washed it all down with some coffee and came here.”

“That’s good,” she croaked, forcing a smile. “Were you able to get the flowers? My local shop was closed when I went by yesterday.”

“Yeah. I’ve got the bouquet back there,” he smiled. “Peonies, irises, roses, lilies, and baby’s breath. All the ones she liked.”

Every time her father said things like that, her heart broke just a little more. He didn’t know it. She would never say it. But the fact that he had lived a life with her mother when she didn’t even know what she sounded like hurt. It pained her to miss a person she never had a chance to remember.

“Do you know it was your mom that would call you little bird?”

“Did she?”

“She said you were always jumping around and fleeting from flower to flower when you were outside, just like a hummingbird would. That’s why she got that necklace made for you,” David chuckled at the memory. “Even when you were just a little baby, you always seemed to calm when you were with her in the garden.”

“Well, her garden has to be the best one in all of Virginia. Even to this day.”

“You have Emile to thank for that,” he laughed. “If it had been up to me, it would have died so many years ago.”

“And I guess I inherited your lack of a green thumb.”

“That you did, little birdie,” he said. “But you did inherit her good taste. For your third birthday, the last one with your mother –may God have her in his glory—you insisted on having a garden fairy party. Iris asked you what flowers you wanted everywhere, and you said peonies. Well, at the time, you called them peenies.”

“I… I don’t remember that,” she stammered. “I wish I did.”

“That’s okay, little bird. We have the pictures, and I’m sure there’s a VHS somewhere with the video. Just have to check in storage, which might take a bit more than it should.”

“It wouldn’t if you let me organize it, dad. I’ve told you many times that you need to set up a system so things don’t get lost in all the junk you still have from the olden days.”

“Hey! You learned a lot from those olden days,” he pouted. “Those olden days paid for everything we have.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not disorganized.”

By the time they had reached the cemetery, they were a mix of laughter and sadness, coupled with the most beautiful bouquet they’d brought to date. There was a thin blanket of snow covering the ground, a cold breeze whistling through the air. It was a horrible day to be out, but they wouldn’t miss it for the world.

(Y/N) was expecting the bad weather. And although her coat did nothing to warm her against the wind, she hugged it closer to her body. What she was not expecting was to find Hotchner and Jack waiting on a bench right in front of her mother’s grave.

“Aaron,” David called out with a smile that alerted the father and son to their presence. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Once they were near enough, Jack took off on a soft run toward the woman. “(Y/N)!” he called as he reached to hug her. “You said we could come, remember?”

“Of course I do, buddy,” she smiled softly. “I’m happy to see you.”

“This is your mom, right?” The boy led her to her mother’s tombstone by the hand. “Iris Jensen.”

“That’s right,” she said. (Y/N) knelt down and ran her hand across the picture of her mother, tears already building in her eyes. “This is my mom.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“She is, isn’t she?” (Y/N) chuckled as her body betrayed her. Tears fell down her eyes before she could stop them, warming her skin before turning freezing under the weather. Jack quickly reached into his jacket, pulled out a blue handkerchief, and handed it to her. “Thanks, kid.”

“Jack, why don’t you join me on the bench, and I can tell you about her?” David said. “I’ve got some great stories.”

“Is that okay, (Y/N)?”

“Of course, Jack,” she smiled. “Go ahead.”

As the kid ran to her father, Hotchner wrapped his arms around her. Normally, she would have grown flustered at the interaction, but at that moment, she needed the comfort. “You okay?” he asked quietly. “This must be so hard.”

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” she muttered. “It’s been years already. I barely even knew her.”

“She was still your mom, (Y/N). It’s only natural that you feel this way.”

“I don’t even remember what she sounds like,” the woman sniffled. “I don’t even know what kind of mom she would have been growing up.”

“I… I’m sorry, (Y/N). I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled softly as she let him go. She got on her knees and started cleaning the tombstone, removing all specs of snow regardless of how futile it may have been. “There’s not much to say.”

“All I know is that I wish I had met her.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Me too.”

Aaron left her by herself then, allowing her the space to tell her mother about the year that had passed. She told her about her cases, told her about her friends, and even told her about her ever-growing feelings for an unmentionable person. But, most of all, she told her about how much she missed her.

But it didn’t go over her head how she missed someone that much without really knowing who they were. She carried inside an emptiness that wasn’t easily filled, and as hard as her father tried, never would be. And David tried, in his own way. He had his own grief to carry, and she knew that. She knew he hurt and wished Iris was still with them. But he’d found solace in the time he had shared with her while (Y/N) yearned for even just a second more with her mom.

“I wish you were here, mom,” she cried as she stood. “I see videos of you, and I can’t tell if that’s what you really sounded like or if your voice is too distorted by the camera. I wish you’d had more time, mom.”

“You and me both, little birdie,” her father said as he joined her. “But she’s in God’s glory now.”

(Y/N)’s blood boiled at that moment. She had never been religious, much to her father’s dismay. More than just the deity not fitting into her scientific mind, she couldn’t believe in a god like her father did. Normally, she didn’t mind his religious interjections. They were a part of who he was, and she didn’t want to belittle his beliefs. But that day, something inside her couldn’t stand it. Much less when he started to mutter a prayer.

“I’ve asked you to please not pray aloud when we’re here, dad. Do you mind?”

“Honey…”

“No, dad. I really don’t want to listen to you talk about your god or ask to have mom in his infinite mercy. I don’t wanna hear about it!” Her tone came out harsher than she intended, but she couldn’t contain herself. Years and years of bottling up her feelings had her at her limit, and it was that moment that they had chosen to spill over. “Just, keep it in your head.”

“I don’t understand, (Y/N). You never minded before,” David muttered. “There was a time you used to believe in God. You even used to ask me to pray with you.”

“Jesus, dad, I did that for you.” As she exclaimed Hotch told Jack to wait for him in the car, that (Y/N) needed a moment to herself. Hesitantly, the boy followed his father’s instructions and walked the short trail to the van. All he could understand was that (Y/N) was upset. Once Jack was gone, she continued. “How could I ever believe in a god that took my mother away before I could even remember what my name sounded in her voice? I only went along with it because it seemed to make you happy, but I can’t anymore. I can’t listen to another word of how your god is merciful and how it was all his plan. He took my mother from me. How could I believe in a god that would take a mother from a child? All the memories I have of her are from behind a screen or moments lived by other people. I don’t remember anything about her that’s mine only, dad. You always tell me how you would love to have a second chance with my mom, and I didn’t even get one.”

(Y/N) crumbled to the ground once more and suddenly felt arms around her. Instantly, she knew who it was and found herself sinking into Hotch’s embrace. He tried his best to calm her, telling her that everything would be okay and that she wasn’t alone. She was normally the strong one. She was always the one who kept it all inside and helped others. But too many years of that had her shattered on the ground of the cemetery.

It took a few minutes for her sobs to finally subside, Hotch’s soothing circles on her arms working overtime to calm her down. They had ended up sitting on the cold ground, the snow slowly making its way through their clothes, but neither seemed to care. All that mattered was the comfort and the presence. Nothing else.

“You okay?” Hotch whispered as she finally seemed to calm. “Feeling better?”

“I don’t even know,” she chuckled weakly. “Your pants are dirty now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I have a washer,” he joked. “But how are you feeling? I know this must be a very overwhelming situation.”

“I don’t know what I’m feeling, honestly,” she sighed, sinking into the warmth of Hotchner. “It’s the first time I’ve ever blown up like that toward my dad, and I don’t know why I did. It’s been over twenty years that we’ve been coming here, and I’ve never acted like this.”

“I think it’s safe to assume you’ve been bottling up all these feelings for all that time. They were bound to come out one day or another.” 

“Don’t profile me, Hotch,” she pouted. “But you’re right. I mean, he lost the woman he loved, and even though I lost my mom, I felt bad for him because he’s the one who had all the memories with her. I never wanted him to feel bad or guilty for the fact that I had to grow up without her. Still, every time he says something like her death was god’s plan or that he has her in her mercy, it just sets me off.”

“Have you ever thought that religion is the way that he copes with her death? Maybe thinking that she is in heaven or that it was her time is his way to come to terms with the fact that she is gone.”

“I guess a part of me does understand that. But there’s a side that doesn’t want to,” she sighed. “But I guess I have to apologize for the tantrum.”

“Your feelings are valid, (Y/N). It’s just the way you express them that could be hurtful to others. But your dad’s a big boy,” he chuckled softly. “He’s at the car with Jack. You ready to go over there?” 

“As ready as I can be.”

Hotchner got up first, waiting with his hand extended until she needed it. And with another glance at the tombstone, she took the hand and stood up as well. The man walked beside her the entire time, his presence alone was enough to keep her grounded. As much as she wanted to break down and fall apart, she needed to keep it together.

“And she could spend days in her studio just painting, forgetting that hours passed. She would just lose herself painting and painting,” her father smiled as he talked to Jack. “She would have been there the entire day if I had let her.”

“Do you have any of her paintings still?”

“Of course! All over the house,” he chuckled. “Would you like to see them, Jack?”

“Yes! Can we, dad?” Jack asked as he noticed his father’s approaching figure. “I wanna see the paintings.”

“If it’s alright with Dave, then it’s alright with me.”

“Of course!” the man exclaimed. “The more the merrier. We’ll see you there.”

David and (Y/N) walked to the car in silence. Not saying a single word until they were inside. “I’m sorry, dad,” she finally muttered. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like I did. You don’t deserve that.”

“I’d say it was long overdue, kid,” he smiled softly. “You like to keep the peace and keep everything in. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before. You have nothing to apologize for, little bird.”

“But I do, dad. I shouldn’t have yelled at you regardless.”

“Your mother used to say that yelling is the way the soul speaks,” he said. “When you can no longer keep anything in, it comes out fast and unmeasured. Words come out with thorns and spikes. And much like a flower, they don’t mean to hurt you, but it is in their nature to protect themselves. It’s okay to let it out once in a while. Doesn’t matter how it hurts. If my beliefs hurt you, mia bella, all you have to do is tell me. I will try my best to keep it to a minimum.”

“And I will try to talk about how I’m feeling instead of yelling it,” she smiled, taking her father’s hand in hers. “I love you, dad. And I’m still sorry.”

“I love you too, little bird,” he beamed. “And you can make it up to me by helping with dessert tonight. We’re making your mom’s favorite.”

“Tiramisu,” they chorused.

Next ->

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[141wh0re]

Red Spider Lily- Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Pairings: Body Guard!Simon Riley x Rich Bitch!Reader (f)

TW: MDNI, DDDNE, depression, suicidal ideation, anxiety, minor character death, angst, substance abuse and addiction, implied narcissism from readers dad, alcohol consumption, vomiting (not detailed, just mentioned), hyperthermia, brief wlw, NSFW thoughts, soft Simon, grumpy x grumpier trope, fun fact: don't mix MDMA with cocaine lads and lasses (can result in hyperthermia), whump, fluff.

Let me know if I missed anything in the tags <3

Word Count: 2626

Summary: Simon retires from the SAS, taking on a job for a well known real estate tycoon's daughter, serving as her sole protector until her father can find a suitable man to sell marry her off to. Yet, instead of protecting her from outside dangers, he's finding the biggest danger is herself. Simon is determined to help you escape this life that was pre-ordained for you, and cure you of your disease. Addiction.

After nearly three decades spent in the military, Simon never expected to find himself here. Stuck in a contractual agreement, protecting and ensuring the safety and well-being of a bratty young woman with a wealthy family. It was almost insulting to him, had it not been for the hefty sum of money the woman's father wired to his bank account every week.

There were a few moments he'd almost made the rash decision to quit his job completely, and allow the someone else to look after this bitchy damsel.

But there was something that kept him here, keeping a protective eye on you and a firm hand at the small of your back in crowded rooms.

Beneath all the glitz and glam, partying and binge drinking, and the drugs... Simon saw you for what you were when you were at your lowest points.

A young girl who was forced into a lonely life of luxury. A girl who lost her mother too young and wasn't sure how to cope. A girl who yearned for her father's attention while he consumed himself in work, social gatherings, and public appearances. A girl who closed herself off from the world and kept everyone at arm's length so the venomous bite of abandonment would be less impactful when those people inevitably left her. A young girl who drowned her liver in alcohol while snorting enough blow to potentially kill her every weekend.

Simon knew you needed consistency in your life with substance. He'd watched his younger brother go through this plenty, repeating a vicious cycle of pain and torment for a fleeting moment with the impostor of joy in powder form.

He also knew you resembled that of a caged bird. Lonely, isolated, and detached from the rest of the world while you awaited either your death or an arranged marriage that would benefit your father's company, and potentially cushion his pockets a tad more.

As you emerged from the master suite of the penthouse, Simon heaved a resigned sigh, seeing you dolled up for the night ahead. Luxurious, private parties and public appearances to keep your name relevant in the tabloids and medias.

He leaned against the kitchen island, large arms crossed in his black button down, rich, honey-colored eyes fixated on you, and his signature black, surgical mask in place.

"Eat. You're not going out on an empty stomach." His deep, thick accented voice demanded. He nodded towards the plate on the counter, filled with chicken risotto with truffle sauce.

You scoffed in response to his authoritative tone before obeying anyways and climbing onto the bar stool, realizing it's probably best not to piss off your body guard.

"Where's it from?" You asked in a bland tone.

"Your kitchen." he answered gruffly as he poured an electrolyte packet into a bottle of water and set it beside your plate.

"Didn't know they taught ya to cook up truffle sauce in the military," you teased in that snarky tone he felt deep hatred for. Your metaphorical mask was going up early tonight.

"It's so cute how hard you work to save me from myself every weekend, big guy. Doesn't it get tiring?" You goaded before working at the small, yet filling dish before you.

Simon ignored your attempts to rile him up, knowing good and well you were fishing for a reason to indulge in your vices tonight. If you went out in a bad mood, it was all the more reason for you to fill your nose with booger sugar, and what better way to elevate yourself than starting it in a piss-poor mood, so your high will be that much better?

"Eat." Is all he replied with, leaving no room for questions or arguments.

As the night progressed, Simon kept a watchful eye on you, taking in your every move, expression, and breath while diligently scanning your surroundings to ensure your safety.

He watched as you finished another glass of champagne that was easily worth three months rent for his studio loft downtown.

You were pleasantly buzzed as you floated about the mansion, like you owned it, being the perfect little socialite you learned to be. Simon's dark, brooding presence loomed behind you, keeping you within at least three arm's lengths at all times.

"Going to the loo," you informed Simon as you spun on the toe of your red bottoms, heels clicking against the marble floor as you sashayed in the direction of the restroom.

You didn't even have to cast a glance over your shoulder to know Simon was already following behind you, keeping his eyes dutifully trained on you and your immediate surroundings.

Once outside the bathroom, Simon knocked on the door before entering and doing a sweep of the room before allowing you to enter.

You rolled your eyes at his precautious measures as he shut the door behind you. After clicking the lock in place, you promptly relieved yourself before standing at the vanity to wash your hands, reapply your red lipstick, then pull a little pick-me-up from your clutch.

Using the compact mirror, you pulled a tampon case from your clutch, producing a small baggie of white powder from within it, and emptied the contents of the baggie onto the mirrored surface as it sat on the vanity. You shook the small tampon case to receive a small straw, then used one of your many credit cards to neatly align the powder in a straight line.

Holding a finger to your left nostril, you plugged it and inserted the end of the straw into the right nostril, hovering over the powder as you inhaled with a strong pull from your nose and lungs.

The powder irritates your nose momentarily, causing it to scrunch and sniffle as the tingles pulse through your nasal passage. Bitterness coated your taste buds as the powder dripped down the back of your throat, earning a cringe from you as you shook your head, coughing slightly to aid the phlegm in easing down your esophagus.

You promptly cleaned up and did a final once over in the mirror, adamant not to stare too long and avoid your flaws. Clammy palms idly smooth over the material of your dress, trying to ensure you look your best, and avoid the nagging feeling at the back of your mind. Your darker-self trying to rear her ugly head and steal your fleeting moments of joy, and stir up the insufferable concoction of anxiety.

Finally, you emerged from the bathroom to be greeted with the sight of Simon stood with his back to the door, his large palm clasped firmly over his wrist.

He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what you were doing in the bathroom. Had it only been a quick stop, it would've been three minutes tops. But when you did your pick-me-ups, it took seven minutes.

He shouldn't know that, yet considering you're a relatively well-known public figure, he has to time every second you're not in his line of sight.

Simon stepped to the side, allowing you to exit the bathroom. His dark eyes gave a disapproving look as he surveyed your appearance.

"You've got a bit of sugar on your dress." He informed you, glancing down at the skirt of your black cocktail dress.

Your eyes hurriedly followed his, searching for the spot and swiping your hand over the material, earning an amused glint to flash in his normal unreadable eyes.

You groaned in annoyance once it became apparent he was messing with you, your hand quickly came up to slap his arm in defiance.

"Arse," you muttered under your breath. Simon's stoic demeanor momentarily gave way to show off a glimpse of underlying smugness.

Simon couldn't deny that you were a good looking woman, and he always found it hard to tear his gaze away from you, especially when you were a magnet for people. You had the natural ability to draw people in, even with your resting-bitch-face. Somehow, someway, everyone gravitated toward you.

It was very much the opposite of himself, all jagged edges, harsh lines with the repellent of a rabid Rottweiler. He found it fascinating on a personal level, but on a professional level, he loathed it.

He hated how people thought they could touch you, or be within three feet of you, or even the way they looked at you.

All he saw was greed, manipulation, and control. He was certain that you saw it too; he could see the faint flicker of disgust in your eyes when someone tried to cozy up to you for their own gain.

A part of Simon's heart ached to see your life full of so many people, yet none of them truly gave a shit about you. But he also knew you did it strategically, much like he had done for most of his life. Although, Simon's was done more coldly, you had a certain finesse about it. You held a sense of attainability, allowing people in just enough to keep control of, but never in deep enough for them to control you.

Behind the rich, spoiled brat, Simon marveled at the true strength and cunning you showed within this materialistic world. He could see the fox within you, calculating and sly as she was, planning her escape.

But the escape plan is what scared him. He heard every conversation you had with yourself, when you thought no one was listening.

You longed for a life without a name. Where you could fly under the radar, only keeping close to you those who truly cared. And as much as he tried to remain detached. He was concerned that one day, you'd find a remedy for that desire.. and take flight for the heavens.

Simon watched vigilantly over you as you remained perched on the outdoor couch with your group of girlfriends. His eyes never left you as your friend slipped a pill between your soft, red lips and did the tactless act of spitting her drink in your mouth to aid you in ingesting the pill.

Fuckin' hell, love. You need better friends.

He sighed inwardly, but heaved a quiet breath as he kept watch, wanting to shake his head in disappointment. But he knew you could feel his disapproving gaze prickling at your muted senses.

Your head dipped back in pleasure as your friend kissed down your neck, across your collarbones and back up to your lips. Half-lidded eyes remained trained on Simon as he stood within your sight, your eyes appreciatively raked over his form, taking in the way his muscles strained against the black fabric of his black button-down, and the way his slacks fit his tree-trunk legs perfectly.

He was a delicious sight and you were feeling ravenous, silently lusting over the man assigned to guard your life. The only man who gave a single shit about you.

Simon internally groaned, his hand clenching into fists behind his back as he watched the scene unfold before him. If he wasn't on duty right now, he'd be fucking you within an inch of your life, and make you pray to a merciless God. Himself.

You pulled yourself up from the couch on slightly unsteady legs, and sauntered over to him, only stopping in front of him once your hands were on his chest.

Simon gazed into your dilated pupils, already noticing the effects of your meeting with your little friend, Molly.

"Wanna go home," you demanded, pouting up at him.

"So soon? You looked like you were having a bit of fun." He replied in a neutral tone, keeping his aloof and disinterested persona in place.

"It's boring here," you whined, "wanna have fun. At home. With you."

"Mm, you wound me, bird. Here I thought you knew not to associate me in the same sentence as fun." He scoffed lightly, trying to keep the inflection of amusement from his tone.

He reached a large, callused hand to rest on the small of your back, acting as a stabilizer for your current state. Tingles ran up your spine as every nerve-ending desperately sought out the rest of his warm touch, igniting hot flames of desire along your spine, and pulsing directly to your rapidly slickening cunt from your heightened state.

Simon watched you closely once you were back in the safety of your home. He gauged you as you stripped off your dress carelessly, leaving it discarded on the floor, much like you had done with your heels the moment you were off the lift earlier.

He sighed as he watched you prance around the room topless, going about your business in your flimsy g-string.

"It's too bloody hot in this damn house," you whined as you adjusted the thermostat.

Your body swayed on unsteady legs, your skin glistened with intense perspiration. A wave of dizziness struck you, forcing you to lean against the wall momentarily while your heart rate soared, soft, frantic breaths escaped your lips while your vision blurred in a not so fun way.

Simon's eyes narrowed with concern before he immediately recognized your symptoms, having realized what would force this reaction out of you.

"How many lines did you do tonight?" Simon asked in a firm tone, scooping you up in his arms effortlessly, then rushed you into the bathroom.

He helped you kneel before the toilet, gathering your hair in one hand so you wouldn't have to focus on much.

"T-three," you panted out, feeling waves of nausea swell and your stomach to roil.

You retched into the toilet, firmly grasping the edges in a white-knuckle grip.

"And you only took one pill. Molly, right?" he asked with concern, gently rubbing his large palm at the center of your shoulder blades.

"Yeah," you croaked weakly before lowering your head again.

Simon grunted in frustration, yet remained vigilantly at your side, helping you through your sickness.

After a while, the vomiting finally ceased as he gently cleaned you up and propped your back against the bathtub. He quickly grabbed a washcloth and a disposable cup for mouth wash before handing it to you.

"Swish and spit in the cup, bird," he instructed while pressing the cold washcloth to your forehead, then moved it to the nape of your neck, trying to quickly cool your body down from the sudden onslaught of heat exhaustion.

You did as Simon instructed before handing it to him to dispose of. Your eyelids were hardly able to stay open, your body felt weak as if each limb was weighed down by imaginary anchors, and your skin felt like it was on fire.

Simon returned with a thermometer in hand, taking your temperature.

102 degrees.

"Fuckin' hell, bird." he murmured gruffly.

With quick efficiency, Simon collected you in his arms again, carrying you out to the oversized sectional in the living room.

You were already drifting in and out of consciousness, finding new items surrounding you each time you opened your eyes.

Simon worriedly administered an IV, a bin was placed beside the couch, cool washcloths littered across your body.

"What's all this?" you slurred nearly unintelligibly.

"Hyperthermia. Just rest. Let me take care of you," he answered in a softer tone than ever before, and had your body not been fighting for it's life, you might have caught the worry in his eyes and concern and care in his deep voice.

For several hours, Simon remained by your side, using a dropper to dispense electrolytes on your tongue, checking your temperature every hour, and gently running his fingers through your hair while you slept on the couch.

"M' gonna get you fixed up, bird... don't wanna see you like this anymore," he whispered in devotion, and pressed a tender kiss on your forehead.

| Next |

[dira333]

Water Lily - Kisame Hoshigaki x Reader

tagged: @missalienqueen @snuggleboots

The rain was more than welcome.

Kisame never minded the rain, had been born and raised in and around water. He loved that about Amegakure, felt more at home here than he’d ever done in Kiri. 

There was just something honest about it, the way its drops washed away every lie, every chance of deceit. Where one could easily hide in the neverending fog of Kiri, they’d have to bare themselves to the world in the rain of Amegakure.

.

It was close to nightfall by the time he made it out of the hidden village.

Kisame could have easily found a bed there, but he wanted to get out, clear his head, and think about the offer he received.

As a Rogue-Nin, he didn’t have that much to choose from. A hidden life, or a life of being chased. He’d never been one to hide away but he was getting older. Maybe he’d one day get tired of hunting down criminals for bounty or fight those who hunt him. Maybe one day he’d want to have a family too.

If Kisame accepted Pain’s offer, he wouldn’t have to worry about money for a while, but the Akatsuki didn’t sound like a group he could walk away from as easily as he did with Kirigakure. 

He paused in his musings, forcing the thoughts from his mind to enjoy the wet squelch of his sandals, the cool feeling of rain soaking through his clothes. If there was a river nearby he could take a dip later after he found a bed to sleep in.

-

Lanterns bravely defied the rain, their soft light ready to fight the coming darkness.

It looked warm and welcoming and Kisame spontaneously decided that he would stay here for the night. He moved through the crowd of people, eyes focused on the signs, looking for an Inn.  When he stopped in front of one, something tumbled into his side.

When he looked down, two curious bright eyes peered up at him. A child, maybe three years old. Kisame frowned, and waited for the crying that usually followed when small children took sight of his features.

Instead, the kid started beaming, reaching for him with chubby fingers.

“Fishy!” It cried out joyfully. “Big Fishy!”

“Oh, Suzume!” Two arms swooped in and pulled the child away from his leg. It was a young woman, visibly related to the child. 

“I am so sorry.” You apologized, not meeting his eye. You were pretty, not unlike a water lily that bloomed in murky water. 

“Fishy!” Suzume kept exclaiming, struggling against the arms keeping her away.

“You like fish?” Kisame asked, watched with quiet satisfaction as your eyes finally flew up to his face, and widened at his sight. For some, it was his Hitai-ate, clearly crossed through, for others his animalistic features. He wondered what it was that scared you.

“I love Fish!” The child beamed up at him, not the least bit scared. “My favorite are sharks! Then dolphins. Whales are cool too! And Jellyfish!”

“Why do you like sharks?”

“They are so funny!” Suzume giggled and turned her face to you. “Right, Onee-chan?”

You didn’t answer, your eyes still on him as if you were searching for something.

“Are you looking for a place to sleep?”

“What if I am?”

You nod to the sign above the door. “Old Man Koda rips people off. Our place might not be as big but our prices are honest.”

He’d be a fool to say no to that offer and while Kisame Hoshigake might be known as many things, he’d never been a fool.

-

Kisame hears the pitter-patter of quick little feet before he sees her.

Suzume fails to hide herself, a chubby shadow betraying her efforts to be secretive.

“Fishy?” She asks, whispers way too loudly. “Can I bathe with you? I can scrub your back.”

He wouldn’t have minded a similar offer from her big sister, but he grins at the little girls eagerness. Kisame pushes open the door to Suzume already beaming up at him.

In her arms is a stuffed toy that has seen better days. The shark has lost most of it’s filling and its felt teeth are no longer white but a dirty grey.

“This is Mr. Mimi.” Suzume explains and steps inside the little washroom. “He watches over me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” Suzume nods her head eagerly, walks up to the bathtub and climbs up, takes a seat on the rim. Her movements tell him that this isn’t the first time she’s scrubbed someone’s back.

“Do you bath with your sister?”

“Yes.” She nods. “You have to get into the water.”

“You don’t need to scrub my back.” He tells her, keeping his towel securely around his waist as he takes a seat in the tub. It’s too small for him, but he folds his legs under him and grins up at Suzume. “You can just tell me about Mr. Mimi.”

-

By the time you step inside the washroom, it’s clear that you must have looked for your sister everywhere. Your hair has turned into a frizzy halo around your head as if you pulled at it in desperation and your eyes are red from unshed tears.

“Suzume!” You cry out when you spot her, still sitting on the rim of the bathtub, chubby feet dangling in the cooling water, Mr. Mimi secure in her grasp. “What are you doing?”

“She wanted to scrub my back.” Kisame offers with a grin. “I could barely keep her at bay.”

“I was telling him about Mr. Mimi.” Suzume squirms in your hold. “I’m not done yet.”

“Yes, you are. You should be in bed. And you can’t bother our guests! You know that.”

“But! Mr. Fishy!” Suzume starts crying. “I’m not done yet.”

“Relax, Kiddo.” Suzume immediately stops her wailing at his words. “You can tell me in the morning.”

-

Kisame finds you in the kitchen after that, a pot of curry bubbling in front of you.

“I am sorry about my sister.” You say without looking at you. “She’s normally not that clingy.”

“It’s fine.” He takes a seat at the table, his eyes on your back.

You’re not Shinobi, but you have some sense of Chakra Control. He can taste it like he can taste the possibility of a great fight or the deceit of a stranger.

“You’re not Shinobi.” He’s not asking, but you nod. “Not anymore. My parents took me from the Academy at eleven when my little brother was born. He needed a lot of care and it was cheaper to have me care for him.”

“How do you make money?”

You shrug and put a plate in front of him. He digs in with a quick “Itadakimasu”. It’s delicious.

“I house travelers like you. I mend clothes, bake, whatever needs to be done. I’m not eligible for missions because I never properly graduated, but we make do.”

“Your brother?”

“Dead.”

“Your parents?”

“What do you think?” Your voice is sharp now. He shrugs like you did before.

Why is he even that interested in you? You’re not the first pretty girl he’s seen on his travels. 

He should just take you to his room - which coincidentally belongs to you anyway - and get this over with. Tomorrow he can leave with a clearer mind and never think of you again.

But he doesn’t. 

Kisame sleeps alone, dreams of rainy days and the gleaming white of a water lily in a murky pond.

-

“Fishy!”  Suzume lands heavy on his chest, beams into his face as he blinks.

“It’s way to early.” Kisame grunts and she giggles, tugs at the blanket covering him.

“I gotta tell you about Mr. Mimi!” Suzume exclaims eagerly, climbs under his blanket before he can protest. She’s fast when she wants to be.

That’s how you find them half an hour later, Suzume snuggled into his side, waving Mr. Mimi around as she tells him her dreams while he dozes.

You make breakfast and keep quiet over it, speak only through short glances.

Kisame should get going. Pain didn’t give him an ultimatum, but he’s not someone you keep waiting.

Instead he grabs his trusted sword and a scroll filled with Kunai.

“Is there a place we can train?” He asks. Your eyes are big as you nod. But you don’t disagree, walk him down the street and to a field. The grass is slick with rain, the thick droplets have already soaked through his clothes but neither you nor Suzume seem to mind.

“I don’t know the rules.” Kisame points out gruffly. “But can’t you retake the exam? Become a Genin at any age?”

“Who would look after Suzume?” You ask back and he shrugs, unable to speak. Instead he grabs a bigger branch, cuts away with his Kunai until the shape roughly resembles one and presses it into Suzume’s hands.

“Watch me closely, Drop.” Kisame taps one finger against her temple when she furrows her brows in confusion. “Don’t think. Just watch.”

-

After one week he corners you in the kitchen at night. He doesn’t have to say the words, can already see the answers in your eyes. 

Pain can wait a little longer for an answer.

After one month he starts telling you about Kirigakure. The kind of jobs he takes. 

Kisame would never say it out loud - doesn’t have to - but there’s a different kind of honesty to his words when he’s with you, alone, only the rain clothing them.

Two months in and he can feel it, the fire in his bones that makes him restless. Kisame’s never been good at staying in one place - never mind that it’s dangerous for someone like him. He needs the constant thrill that only dangerous missions bring.

Kisame’s not surprised that you can read him before he has to say it.

“You should leave.” You point out one night, your head on his chest. “Make some money. You still need to pay your bill with me.”

“And here I thought I paid you off with my body.” He jokes but his humor falls flat.

“Kisame.” You sit up to look down at him. He can barely make out your shape, but he’s grown to memorize you, the curve of your lips, and the swell of your cheeks. “I will never hold you back. If you need to go, you need to go. Besides, I’m almost bored of you anyway.”

“That’s a lie.” He points out and you sigh. “Yeah. But still. I understand. You did enough for us already. We will be fine.”

He doesn’t believe it. Not because he hasn’t seen your progress or has watched Suzume grow from misusing a wooden Kunai to handling a real one, but because it would mean that he no longer has a place with you, will no longer be needed.

Kisame didn’t know he could need to be needed until he was.

So he bows his head and tells you. 

-

In the morning he grabs his stuff and pats away Suzume’s tears.

“Hush.” He says, voice gruff. “I’ll be back soon. Look out for your sister. Keep yourself safe.”

“I’ll miss you.” She hugs his leg with all the strength of an almost four year old kid.

“I’ll miss you too.” 

You hug him too, but it’s not the same as it is at night. You don’t give yourself up as wholly as you do in the darkness, hold back so much of yourself that it feels like hugging a stranger.

Nothing is certain in a world like theirs, but maybe, just maybe, Pain could bring forth a different one. One where Suzume doesn’t have to learn how to kill. One where you don’t have to be afraid of strangers. One where he can come back to you and stay, knowing no harm will follow him home.

-

Years have carved their marks into his skin.

Suzume will graduate soon, will wear her Hitai-ate with pride. 

She still calls him Fishy, still crawls onto his lap when he’s home. Still cries when he leaves eventually. She’s taken a special liking to Itachi too, has scrubbed his back in their bathtub and served him Dango on the few times he brought him over

Kisame blinks against the rain running down his face, doesn’t have to taste it to know it will be salty. Suzume will be heartbroken over Itachi’s death. If only he could keep it from her.

The closer they are getting to their goal, to the world that Pain has promised them, the less faith he has in it.

What good is a world that kills everything he loves? 

Kisame’s never been a coward, but he’s no fool either. This will kill him, sooner or later.

-

You welcome him back with a smile and a kiss.

There’s something different about you, but you refuse to tell.

Suzume asks about Itachi and he lies through his teeth, if only to have one more day of peace.

It’s only after dinner, in the warmth of a shared bath, that he recognizes all the signs.

The swell of your belly, the new kind of smile you carry, the gentle way you press his hands to your lower stomach.

It’s the best thing that has ever happened to him, and he can’t even be happy about it.

Tomorrow he will have to leave again. They still have to capture the Eight-tails and the Nine-tails. Who knows when he will be back, if ever.

It’s a testament to your strength and not his that you don’t cry.

Calmly you ask for details, and hold him while he crumbles.

“So you lost faith.” You say quietly when he’s revealed even the last secret. “I can’t say I ever had any.”

“But Amegakure?”

“I don’t think that Amegakure will be able to rise because of violence or pain. Just think of yourself, what kept you here? Wasn’t it our kindness? Kindness will always be stronger than any pain.”

You cradle his face in your hands and look at him in a way he’s only ever seen you do. Like you know him better than he knows himself.

“If you can, come home. It doesn’t matter if we have to run our whole life. It will be a better life with you in it. If you can’t, I will accept it. I will raise this child to think of you with pride. This is the gift I have for you. Do with it what you will.”

He leaves in the morning. The sun isn’t up yet and neither are you.

No one knows what the future will bring. Either way, he’ll have to make a decision.

-.-

You pull Suzume from the Academy before she can graduate. 

You resign from your position as a Chunin when your pregnancy becomes obvious. 

Kisame has made sure to leave you money with every visit and your savings will take you a long way if you budget right. 

In all of this, you keep hoping that he will return in time for the birth of his child.

But you give birth without him, Suzume the only one there to hold your hand through it.

As months turn into a year your hope changes. 

You hope that he returns at all.

You hope that he’s still alive.

You hope that he was granted a quick death, that he was allowed to die with dignity.

-.-

The rain is more than welcome.

It washes the dried blood off his face. Most of it is his own. 

Kisame still loved that about Amegakure, the way he knew he was coming home just by the rain alone. How it hugged him loosely as he walked through, called him home through the pitter-patter of raindrops.

-

Lanterns bravely defy the rain, their soft light ready to fight the coming darkness.

The village looks as warm and welcoming as the first night he walked through. Although much time has passed, barely anything has changed. When he stops to check his reflection in a window, something tumbles into his side.

When he looks down, two curious bright eyes peer up at him. A boy, maybe one year old, beams up at him, its smile filled with sharp teeth. He frowns, his heart shuddering with the implication.

The kid reaches for him with chubby fingers.

“Fishy!” He cries out joyfully. “Big Fishy!”

Kisame picks him up without a second thought, ignores the pain shooting through his back at the movement. 

“Haruto!” Your voice breaks when you recognize him. A choked sob bursts from your lips, then you’re in his arms too, your momentum almost tipping him over.

“Onee-chan, where are you- Ni-san!” Now’s Suzume hanging off him too. 

-

It’s way past his bedtime when Kisame finally puts Haruto down to sleep.

He cannot stop looking at him, cannot quell the guilt he feels for missing so many moments already. If things had been just a little bit different, he might never have come back at all.

“Let me look at your injuries.” You ask.

“How did I deserve you?” He asks instead. Your hair is in disarray, feeding Haruto dinner has left stains on your shirt, but you’re still his water lily, unblemished by the dirt of the world.

“By existing.” You tell him firmly, but your voice softens when you continue. “By coming home.”

[sunshinebingo]

Two Halves Apart

After several years spent hiding in the library beneath the House of Wind, Gwyneth Berdara has finally gathered the courage to come out into the light. With her found family by her side - and a shadowsinger who makes her heart beat a little faster - Gwyn is learning to embrace life, as well as her new powers. She is still slowly healing from everything that has happened to her at Sangravah, but she is almost certain that she cannot be more blessed by the Mother.

However, a spying mission one day puts her on the path of the one thing that can fill the strange void that she has always felt inside her. A void that has been left behind by an unknown twin sister.

✨Happy Gwyn Week 2024!!✨

I'm hoping to post a few chapters during @gwynweekofficial when they fit the prompt the most. This fic will include some Gwyn & Catrin, some Gwynriel, some Valkyries and House of Wind gang shenanigans and some OCs.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

Lyra held her twin daughters in her arms and sobbed. Months of bliss had built up to the most heartbreaking moment of her life. She had always known that this day would come. But nothing could make this easier. She felt like the worst mother the world had ever known for what she was about to do.

“You have no other choice,” her own mother reminded her.

Despite her words, the look the older river nymph gave Lyra from where she sat by the water contained a kind of pain that only mothers could feel. Lyra knew that her mother understood what she was going through. She wondered whether her mother had also cried back then, when she had left her only daughter in the hands of her father to be raised on land.

Lyra had always tried to convince herself that it did not matter. It did not matter that her mother had not tried harder to be close to her. It did not matter either that Lyra’s father had later left her at the temple of Sangravah to be raised by the priestesses instead of in the Forest House of Autumn after she was deemed too “untamed”. None of had mattered.

As she kissed the soft heads of her two daughters, she understood the choices that her parents had made for her, now more than ever. She realised that it did matter. She hoped that her daughters would understand as well. Lyra hoped that they would not feel the same resentment for their mother as the one that she had suppressed at times when thinking about her own parents.

As a half high fae who couldn’t permanently live in the rivers in which she was given birth, she had assumed, before she was sent to participate in the Great Rite of Calanmai, that she might birth a child who would only need the air and land. Perhaps, she had imagined, her child might inherit her pliant nymph bones and her ability to breath for much longer than any high fae could underwater.

She hadn’t known the risks that she might also birth one who would get so much of her river nymph genes that she wouldn’t be able to always live above the surface. If she had known… No. Lyra stopped her thoughts from spiralling. Her twin daughters were her blessings as much as they were one for the land of Prythian. Two innocent little beings conceived on a sacred night with a nameless male who would probably never know that his blood now ran through the veins of the ones Lyra held close to her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, rubbing her nose on the soft onyx hair of her first-born daughter. Hair that was identical to hers and her mother. Then, Lyra kissed the head of her second-born.

Although they were both born on the bank of a Spring river, their scents both contained a mix of land and water. Lily of the valley with a hint of willow tree. Similar scents yet with different heart notes that would be picked up by those with a keener sense of smell. It would be those more subtle scents that would linger on who or what the girls would touch for long enough. Spring jasmine for the first one, and Autumn vanilla for the other.

“It’s time to go,” the High Priestess who had accompanied Lyra to Spring told her. For six months, the High Priestess had remained in the Spring court with her. She had been by her side near the rivers of the nymph as she gave birth and took care of her daughters. She was the same one who had sat down with Lyra after learning of the true nature of the girls growing inside her and had explained why this must be done this way.

Because they were rare and precious, no children were allowed to leave the temple grounds for their safety. And as a priestess who had already pledged her life to worshipping the Mother, Lyra’s loyalty to her temple was expected to remain as unmovable as when she didn’t have a child in another court.

For this reason, Lyra couldn’t run away with her fae daughter to live near a source of water for the sake of the other. She had to leave her nymph daughter to be raised far from her, in a place where she would live amongst those most similar to her. The rivers of Spring where some of Lyra’s blood relative still dwelled was a better place than the small empty lake near Sangravah. Lyra at least found comfort in knowing that her mother had accepted to raise the baby as her own. Perhaps it was her way of atoning for leaving her own daughter, although Lyra now understood the impossibility that it would have been for Minerva to raise a land child in the water.

Lyra looked at her mother. “Take good care of her,” she said with tears streaming down her face.

Minerva placed a webbed hand over her heart and the other one on Lyra’s shoulder. “I will place her safety and happiness above my own.”

Lyra kissed the forehead of her first-born. “I love you, my Catrin.”

Her daughters both looked at her with similar wide, bright teal eyes, a trait that even Gwyneth had inherited from the water nymphs.

Lyra stood and handed Catrin to her mother. She couldn’t hold in her sob when she watched the intertwined hands of her twins being separated. Both whimpered and reached out their tiny hands in search of their sister. Lyra wiped her tears away and started to sing as she rocked Gwyneth in her arms. The little readhead fussed for a while, as did Catrin in the arms of her grandmother. Lyra poured her heart out in her lullaby. It was a song that spoke of love and loss and reunion, one that she hoped would follow the girls in their journey in life.

“I will pray for the day when you will finally be reunited,” Lyra told them after their crying finally stopped. She waited until their eyes closed to give a small nod to her mother. With much effort, she stopped herself from following Minerva when she slithered back into the water.

The lake glowed under the moonlight and made Catrin’s skin look even brighter. The glow intensified for the seconds it took for her little feet to turn into a tail when she hit the water. Catrin’s face and body relaxed further.

“I will also pray for that day to come,” Minerva promised her.

Lyra smiled in gratitude. “Until they meet again.”

“Until they meet again,” Minerva said as she slowly lowered herself further in the water.

Lyra watched until Minerva disappeared with Catrin underwater, then behind the vines of the willow tree that covered the path to the deep rivers in which her daughter would grow. She turned around and followed the High Priestess though her eyes remained on a sleeping Gwyneth in her arms.

“My little fire.” She brushed her thumb over the baby’s hair. A beautiful shade of copper that Gwyneth had undoubtedly inherited from Lyra’s father. Most Autumn fae had a varying shade of red hair, but Lyra would never forgot the male who had briefly raised her. The male who she felt in her guts Gwyneth would inherit more from than the colour of her hair. Someday she would tell Gwyneth about her grandfather and her grandmother. Most of all, she would tell her of her twin sister, the other half of her.

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

James Potter was not a patient person. That was why he was not good with surprises. When people told him: "I have a surprise for you". He got anxious thinking about what could it be. It reached to the point of nervous pacing, ruffling through his hair for a million times, inconvenient since his hands were very sweaty. All of his body got very sweaty. It was really a nightmare to wait.

So that was why he was moving through Lily's dorm like a freaking tornado. When his girlfriend said she had a surprise for him, he didn't only get anxious, he got excited.

Surprises were somehow romantic. As long as he was the one surprising others.

But anyway, James went through the girls' things like a curious little kid mainly to distract himself. To be fair, the feminine world had wonders to explore. Makeup tools that looked like torture devices. Noisy toys that said things like: "I love you" in a very creepy tone. Fluffy cushions, cases and even pens. Everything was truly fascinating.

James even found a toy cocodrile that when its teeth were pushed, it closed its mouth on one's hand. That made James yell in pain.

"Are you okay?" Lily asked from the other side of the bathroom door.

Besides the nerves, anxiety and excitement eating him alive?

"Yeep!"

Lily giggled.

God! Why was she taking so long?

James wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, took a seat on Lily's bed and sighed.

That's when Lily came out.

"Okay, I'm ready"

James heard the door opening but he didn't have to turn to feel Lily's presence. Her perfume was delicious and she had bathed herself on it apparently. It gave James pleasant chills. When James turned, he saw his girlfriend had fixed her makeup, with those sparkling shades he loved, pink cheeks and rosy lips. She was truly beautiful.

Lily was also wearing a large blue coat. Closed to her chest.

"Are we going out?" James asked as he stood up and turned to take a better glimpse.

James thought they were doing a movie night and then falling asleep in each other's arms. Like always.

Lily blushed suddenly. Then shook her head with a smile.

Lily looked down and opened the bottoms of her coat so slowly that James felt temped to come closer and help her do it faster. But James was frozen. He shook a little in anticipation. And he didn't even know why.

Though James understood everything when Lily revealed what she was wearing under the coat. It was freaking lingerie.

Transparent red lace. A little dress that reached to Lily's hips. James could see the red underwear underneath it.

James and Lily had been dating for months. And James had never seen Lily without clothes. He had imagined how Lily's underwear would look based on the straps he could sometimes see when she wore tops or the color shape he could distinguish under the white fabric of the uniform's shirt.

But actually seeing Lily like this was beyond comparison. James knew Lily was beautiful. But right now he was realizing she was more fit than he imagined. All those imagination Lilys during those wanking nights couldn't give her justice.

James was speechless. He couldn't breathe. His throat was automatically dry and his body was automatically hot and hard.

"Oh my...." James tried to swallow but his throat was dry. "Jesus Christ"

So now all his saliva was on his mouth because he was drooling.

Lily laughed shyly "Lily Evans, remember?" she said, then started turning around "How do I look?"

When James saw Lily peachy little bum in those panties, his mind exploded provoking some damage because what came out of his mouth was:

"Yer.. lek... I'd.. Jefjd... Oh yeh..."

Lily bit her lip and Oh my God, that gesture wasn't adorable anymore. It was fucking magestic. The most sexy and erotic thing a girl could do.

"Find your words, Potter"

James tried again.

"Am I dead and reached heaven?"

Lily giggled.

"Did I trip and have a concussion? Am I in a comma?"

He pinched his arm and it hurt beautifully. He was alive. And awake!

"I am glad you like it" Lily tried a lower voice that made James's genitals twist inside his pants.

Then Lily covered her face in embarrassment.

"God, is this too much?" She said and James's sweet girlfriend was back "Maybe it was not a good idea"

"It was the best idea!" James exclaimed "Forget about all the ideas that had ever crossed your mind, even the ones that made you say: 'Wow, I am a genius'. This is the best idea someone could ever had. Holy Shit! If ideas had a Prize Novel, this would definitely win"

That made Lily laugh. James was dying inside. He was drunk with needs and instincts he had sworn to keep in control around Lily. His hands wanted to touch. His lips wanted to kiss. His tongue wanted to taste. His dick... Well... Begging for attention.

James and Lily had decided to wait for the perfect time to have sex. James had done it but Lily was still a virgin and sex was a big deal for her. They discussed it. And she saw it differently.

"It's not like I have the need, or I see sex as a fun way to get off" she had explained "For me it is an opportunity to be intimate with the person I love the most in the world. And even if I love you, James. I am not there with you. Please respect that"

It had been a bit frustrating as a horny teenage boy to learn to wait. Especially when Sirius and Remus were all over each other. And were in their honeymoon phase of shagging when they had the minimum chance. But James loved Lily. And he had sworn to himself to be a good boyfriend and not pressure her. He had appreciated other ways of intimacy as well. And everything had been incredible with Lily. Although, God. How much he wanted her.

James's thoughts were interrupted when Lily began singing in a soft melodic voice.

"Stars shinning right abooovee youu...."

James was static as Lily walked closer to him. She was singing with a bright smile on her face.

As she wrapped her arms around his neck she sang "Night breezes seem to whisper..." and then she sang the next part on his ear "I loove you..."

James chuckled happily.

"Birds singing in the sycamore tree...." she almost whispered the next part as she sang looking into his eyes "Dream a little dream of meeee...."

It was kind of impossible to be this in love with someone. They were breathtaking moments when James couldn't believe how amazing Lily was. Not only beautiful and sexy. But truly wonderful. Lily had been an unreachable dream for James. He had fantasized about what she was. Now that he had the real Lily, he had fallen fast. There would be no one in the world like her. Never. And yet, James couldn't believe he had the chance to date her.

Lily pushed James delicately until he was seated in her bed. James didn’t take his eyes away from her. And she climbed on his lap as she sang the next part:

"Say 'Nighty-night' and kiss mee" True to the lyrics she gave him a little peek on the lips. "Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss meee...."

James smiled as he buried his face on Lily's collarbone. Mainly to hide the surprising tears that were threatening to appear. He gave her a little kiss there.

"While I'm alone and blue as can beee...." Lily continued singing and James felt her throat vibrating with her voice. He carried on kissing her there "Dream a little dream of meee...."

Lily stopped singing as she let out a little moan that drove James even more crazy. Her neck tasted so good.

He wanted it all. He wanted to be the first and last man to kiss Lily like this. The only one to be able to touch her, kiss her, provoke those sounds... He was a bit drunk and possive as he kissed Lily's mouth hungrily and pulled her closer...

But James also wanted to be the best boyfriend in the world. A gentleman. Someone she deserved. So he stopped even though his whole body was protesting for more of this delicious feeling.

"Lils," he said with a half a moan but then cleared his throat "Lils, I thought you wanted to wait"

Lily's cheeks were red as crimson. James had never seen her like that.

"I know..." she snorted as she looked down. She got off James's lap. And he regretted saying anything for a second.

"You turn eighteen next week" Lily said and James nodded "And it is the first birthday with me as your girlfriend. I never had a boyfriend before. And I never celebrated a boyfriend's birthday before...." Lily chuckled a bit embarrassed "So when I was thinking about what to give you, I was going through a few ideas... And when our friends told me what they got for you, I realized I am your girlfriend! Not your friend! I should give you something more special, more romantic... Something a friend wouldn't give you".

"Your virginity?"

James was an idiot. It wasn't even funny. It sounded better inside his head.

To his surprise, Lily let out a little laugh.

"I discussed this idea of the lingerie with the girls" Lily explained. "Mary said it would blow your mind and that it would be the best present ever..."

"Mary was absolutely right" James smiled dreamily. Lily smiled back.

"Searching for your perfect present made me realize how in love with you I am. And how I wanted to make you absolutely happy"

James was out of breath. He was so in love with this girl.

"Thank you, beautiful" he said as he put a lock of hair behind her ear "I love you too. And I loved seeing you in that lingerie" he chuckled "Trust me"

Lily chuckled as well, covering her face "Consider it the best birthday of my life!" he added, making Lily laugh

"But we don't have to do anything you don't want..." James added in a serious tone "Like I told you. I want to wait until you are ready" he said "I don't want you to do anything because you think it would make me happy or to be a better girlfriend or because you want to give me a good present"

James made a pause and grabbed Lily's hand.

"Being with you makes me happy. No matter what we do. Even if we just watch a film and snog a little.... Maybe more then a little"

Lily smiled at the last part. Her eyes were glowing or maybe they were sparkling with upcoming tears. James didn’t know. Either way, she was breathtakingly beautiful.

"James" Lily took a deep breath. Then kissed James in a quick peek "The thing is that back when we talked about it for the first time, I thought about having sex with you and it felt weird yet..." she made a pause and looked into James's eyes "But now, when I think about it. I feel goosebumps all over my body. And there's nothing I want more...." she blinked at him as she smiled "All I feel for you is infinite love and I trust you with whatever happens. I might not want you sexually, but I... But I want that intimacy with you"

The way she said it, sent shivers down James's spine. How can someone be this brave to speak about mature themes like those? They were just teenagers. They were so young. Yet, Lily was so wise.

"It is not precisely physical... At least for me" Lily carried on "But I want you to touch my body like it is the most precious treasure you had found. And I want you to make me feel like I am only yours. And I want to trace your body and soul to find a James no one else knows...." Lily's face was very red as she said the next thing "It is about making love. Not having sex. And for that,...." she swallowed "I am absolutely ready"

It was hard to compete with those words. James cursed himself and all the moments that he wanted sex with Lily just because he was horny and he found her absolutely fit. He cursed the moments when he saw Sirius and Remus getting out of the bathroom looking flushed and fixing their clothes and wishing he could have that. Just that easy. Because he was a teenager and he wanted that fun. And he wanted to have sex and brag about it to his mates.

Although now he felt stupid. He felt like an idiot not to want the same as Lily. Not to crave for that kind of intimacy. Now he was so grateful they decided to wait. Because he wanted that. He wanted to feel that close with Lily.

James didn't know how they were going to manage that, but he figured that the love they felt for each other was enough and that it would take care of all of it.

"I love you so much" James practically cried those words as he pulled Lily in for a passionate kiss. Just to show her how in love he was with her.

Lily let out a crying gasp as she melted into the kiss. It was different the way she was kissing him. Not shy and delicate as she always did. It made all of James's body shiver. As Lily climbed into his lap one's again, James felt like a shot of adrenaline rushing through his veins. His body reacting to the way Lily was moving and the way Lily was kissing him.

James pulled away as his eyes focused on the girl's face. Just to make sure. Lily didn't seem uncomfortable like the first time James tried something. She was just radiantly happy.

"I want this so badly, Lily. Everything with you" he said softly as he caressed her cheek "Are you really sure?"

Lily took a second to answer "I want this with you. I want you to be the first. And the only one"

James smiled at this because he thought the same. All the girls he had shagged before had been meaningless. This was for real. He didn't want this with anyone else ever again. James didn’t care if he was too young or that he was still in school and he hadn't met other people yet. It didn't matter, all the pretty girls he could encounter in his life. Lily was the only one for him. Maybe she always had been. Maybe she would always be.

James Potter couldn't love anyone more than he loved Lily Evans.

So he smiled at her, a genuine smirk of happiness. And he kissed her again. His heart was beating so fast that he was worried of having a stroke or something but all of it felt great. Amazing even.

Lily carefully pulled James's shirt over his head with a gorgeous smile. God, this girl was going to be the death of him.

When James was shirtless he laughed. He laughed like a little kid, back when he played chasing with his parents and he was so happy that he wanted that moment to never end.

And everything became less tense when Lily began laughing with him. It was them. James and Lily. They were in love and they felt comfortable around each other.

James flipped them over until he was on top of Lily. And she looked beautiful lying on her bed, her red hair spread on the mattress. She looked happy. James wanted to kiss all of her. He wanted to merge with her until it was only one soul.

"Shall we carry on?" James asked, just in case, but hoping it was affirmative since the bult inside his trousers was difficult to bare.

"Yes, my love" Lily nodded as she giggled.

"I love you" James whispered and he began kissing her neck without restrain. He was reaching heaven right there.

"I love you" Lily responded with a pleasent sigh.

And that was it. James and Lily were entering to paradise and once in there, there was no turning back.