#and what if you found a reason to care again. one fateful day you found someone who wandered in and became your reason to breathe.

[venomwrites]

Mel rushing Cait to medics before she bleeds out, snippets of her over the next couple of hours/days, desperately trying to find Vi.

Warnings: Spoilers for everything, descriptions of injuries.

Additional chapters are on Ao3: The Observer

Chaos rules the battlefield. 

Mel wars against its overwhelming tide. She presses her soldiers against the gaping wound that’s been cut into the world by careless hands. Spears and banners become stretchers as her mother’s—no—her soldiers cart the screaming and the dying off to medics. There are no spoils here. Or if there are, Mel does not care about them. A wolf feasts after war but Mel doubts she will ever eat again. 

“You, we need a medic. Now!” 

“No!” 

Caitlyn tries to turn away but her body betrays her. She makes a wordless, agonized shout. Dark red starts to flow from the gut wound her mother gave her. Mel knows the wound intimately. It’s the wound her mother gives to those she wants to die witnessing her triumph. Untreated it is deadly, but it is a slow death. Provided you leave the blade inside you. She does not know if her mother explained the wound to Caitlyn. Perhaps she did and Caitlyn accepted her fate as she accepted the blade in her eye. 

“Medic!” Mel shouts, ignoring the protest and covering the wound with her hands. 

There must be something nearby she can use. But all she can see is tattered red fabric. Caitlyn is going into shock. Her breathing is erratic. Her eye is rolling as she fights unconsciousness. The other tries to follow suit. It cannot. Mel cannot focus on that at the moment. The gut wound will kill her first. Despite her shouts there is no medic in her eyesight. Not one that isn’t working on someone. 

“It’s fine—“ Caitlyn coughs. The blood on her lips is from her eye, it must be, “if you see Vi tell her—“

“No,” Mel cuts her off, “there has been enough death here today,” her magic is new but she is a fast learner, “try to hold still. Think of Vi.”

She focuses on her memories of her mother’s lesson. The precise placement of the blade. Caitlyn grinds her teeth together and tries to curl up but Mel ignores her. Her fingers grip Mel’s wrists. Mel hopes having something to hold onto will make this easier. With a look of apology she dips her fingers into the wound and summons the gold light. 

Caitlyn screams. 

Mel focuses on wrapping the sides of the wound in the gold light. Caitlyn’s fingers dig into her tendons, desperate to throw her off but Mel ignores her. She wraps the damage in her gold light and thinks of heat. Caitlyn keeps screaming but Mel cannot watch her bleed out. The smell of burnt flesh is nauseating even with the death all around them. But she holds the hot gold light there until she’s reasonably sure she’s sealed off the worst of the damage. 

Somehow Caitlyn is still conscious. 

“You fought well,” Mel says without thinking. But Caitlyn gives a tight nod of acknowledgement, “let me see.”

Caitlyn hisses as she parts her eyelid. She may not have enough strength or voice to scream. Mel is familiar with all kinds of death and wounds. She has never found a way to get used to them. She always feels them echoed in her own body. Her own eye stings viciously at the sight of what is left of Caitlyns. It’s already deflated. Her eyelid has been holding back what is left of it. Her other eye is fixed on Mel. 

“They might be able to help,” she says, closing the eyelid gently. 

“Vi,” Caitlyn grits out the name, “where’s Vi?” 

“I don’t know,” Mel confesses. 

“Find her!” Caitlyn says and apparently she does have strength left to put force and volume behind her words, “Vi!” She cries the name tilting her head back.

“Shh,” Mel grips her hand, “I’m sure she’s fine. We will find her.”

Caitlyn gasps raggedly at all of the dead Enforcers. She tries to bring her legs up to plant her feet but it aggravates the gut wound. Mel puts her knee over Caitlyn’s thigh and her other hand covers the wound. No blood touches her fingertips but that is a borrowed miracle. She does not know for how long it will hold. 

“I need to find her!” Caitlyn protests desperately. 

“You will not make it far,” Mel counters. Two men appear with a proper stretcher between them, “we’re going to move you,” she says. Caitlyn opens her mouth, “I will find Vi!” She says, trying to put more force in the words than she feels. 

The medics get Caitlyn strapped onto the board. Mel tightens her grip on Caitlyn’s hand nods at the countdown. When they lift Caitlyn screams again. This time the magic falters and when Mel lifts her hand, it’s coated red again. They need to move quickly. Caitlyn looks at the red on Mel’s fingertips and rips he hand free of her grasp. She slaps her hands over the wound. 

“Go find Vi!” 

Mel watches them rush away. Caitlyn is still in eyesight when her hands go loose and one falls from the gurney. But they keep running. She is alive. So many promises have been broken today. Mel cannot add to the list. Her mother called her a wolf. Now she needs to hunt. 

She finds an actual wolf at the bottom of the tower. 

Or, an approximation of one. He’s been blown up very thoroughly, the crater of his body curled protectively up. The poor creature is at peace. From what Mel understands that is a mercy long deserved. Flying takes focus Mel is lacking at the moment. The shields come easier. With them she is able to make an approximation of stairs and begins to climb. The burn in the back of her calves helps her clear her head as she makes her way higher. 

There she finds Vi. 

The young woman is limp on a ledge that looks ready to fall. She is waiting for something. Perhaps death. It’s a horrible contrast to the way Caitlyn kicked and fought every pull of unconsciousness to shout for her. Mel knows there are things here she does not understand. But this broken creature is a far cry from the woman who demanded their attention in the council chamber a lifetime ago. Who gritted her teeth and picked up the gauntlets to fight alongside people she never wanted to. 

“Vi,” she says to the unresponsive girl, “It’s Mel. I’m coming over to you.”

She spreads gold underneath the ledge and makes her way over. Vi is staring up at the ceiling dully. She looks like she’s in shock. The gold light at least makes her blink and look up. Her face is littered with cuts and one of her arms is twisted horribly. But her external injuries seem minimal otherwise. Mel’s diplomat smile feels alien to her, but she puts it on anyway. 

“Hello Vi,” she says, “can you stand?”

Vi looks at her and then at the bolts. Mel glances back and sees they have come free. Now both of their lives are dependent on a shield that she has to keep up. A shield she has used so much today. Well at least Mel knows she excels under pressure. 

“Would you like to tell me what’s wrong?” 

“My dad died,” Vi says slowly, sounding alarmingly young. 

“I’m sorry,” Mel says, “my mother did as well,” Vi frowns, “I know people think she deserved to die for her deeds.”

“That’s what they’ll say about my sister,” Vi whispers. 

Mel looks down at the curled over form of the wolf. Sister. Of course. Now it makes sense. The death of a parent could cripple you, but the death of someone you were supposed to protect. Like a little sister. That could truly be your undoing. 

“My brother passed recently as well,” Mel says. It is not very Medarda of her to air out family laundry. But anyone who could have defined what a Medarda is has now left this earth. The more she talks, the more Vi seems to come back to life, “my mother caused his death. Now she’s gone as well. I hope they are together again,” she says, “do you hope that for your father and sister?” 

Vi nods. Slowly she pushes herself into a sitting position. She still looks out of it, but she’s moving at the very least. She glances down and her eyes widen at the sight. 

“Vi—Vi!” Mel injects enough sharpness into her tone to draw Vi’s gaze, “look at me. Caitlyn is looking for you.”

“Cait,” her brows draw together and she turns, as though Caitlyn will materialize, “where is she?”

“She was hurt,” Mel says, “she fought very bravely. She sent me to find you.” 

“Cait’s hurt?” Vi repeats, “where—“ pain crosses her face at her shoulder, “shit.”

“It’s alright,” Mel says, “I’m going to lower us down. I want you to keep your eyes on me. What do you think your sister and father are doing right now?” 

Vi blinks tears from her eyes. It’s taking all of Mel’s concentration to gently lower them. Turning this into some kind of giant elevator. She cannot also worry about Vi panicking. 

“Vi,” Mel repeats, “what are they doing? Where are they?”

“She’s drawing,” Vi says, “he’s—smoking his pipe,” she says, “they’re at the old bar. But they’ll go to the arcade next.”

“That’s really good, Vi,” Mel says as she gets them the rest of the way down and out of the shaft. She throws up another shield behind her to block the view, “they sound happy.” 

Vi hesitates, looking at the shield like there’s nowhere else she wants to be. But something hardens in her face and she focuses instead on Mel. 

“Where’s Caitlyn?”

The medical tent is chaos. 

It takes Mel a moment to find Caitlyn. She was unconscious when Mel last saw her. Something has woken her up. Her body twists on the gurney as she tries to fight the hands trying to help her. Mel hurries forward. Vi is ten steps ahead. Mel has no idea how she finds her so easily. By the time Mel gets there she’s already got her one good hand wrapped around Caitlyns. 

“You’re here,” Caitlyn dry sobs with relief. Vi’s face cracks with emotion. 

“Yeah, Cupcake, I’m here,” she says, “thought we agreed you were gonna be careful.” 

“No, you told me to be careful,” Caitlyn counters, “I never—“ she cuts herself off with a cry. Vi leans forward, pressing her back onto the bed, “Vi!” She cries. 

“Shhh,” Vi soothes, “I’m here, I’m here. Look at me Cait, you gotta stay with me.”

“I’m trying!” Caitlyn cries. 

“I know, you’re doing so good,” Vi says, “so good.” 

There Is love here.

It catches Mel off guard. So much death surrounds them. So much pain. And yet they cling to each other. Desperately but hopefully. The girl from the Undercity and the rebellious Enforcer. Two people who, on the surface, could not be more different. Yet there is something inside them that matches. That pulls them apart. Mel had thought that death was the only real thing in this place but she can see that is not true. 

She’s not certain what she is doing. It’s as though something in her is directing her movements. Vi looks up as she stands in front of her. Her eyes widen and Mel is fairly certain hers have gone gold again. 

“I believe I can help,” she says, “she needs your strength.” 

“Whatever she needs,” Vi says. 

“No—“ Caitlyn tries to protest again but Vi looks at her desperately. She returns the look and then looks up at Mel, nodding her permission. 

Mel touches their hands. Impossible strength flows through Vi. The strength to move mountains and fight impossibilities. She threads it through Caitlyn’s inner steel. That spine of hers that defies what the world tells her to be and aims for what is good and true. Her mother wreaked havoc on it, but it’s only tarnished. A little bent perhaps. But capable of being so much more. Mel finds the tendrils left from the anomaly. The moment when they were one. They cling to each other as Mel fortifies Caitlyn’s strength through the echo of that shared bond. 

The monitors steady out. 

Vi rocks her head on Caitlyn’s collarbone, their hands clasped tightly under her chest. Mel presses her fingers to Vi’s neck where her pulse thrums. It’s steady. She nods at Caitlyn who exhales in relief, even though she can feel Vi’s breath on her skin. Mel knows this is not fair to the poor girl, but somehow she thinks the loss of Caitlyn would be even worse. While Vi is leaning there she moves her hands to her misshapen shoulder and pops it back into place with a quick twist of her fingers. Vi looks at her. 

“My brother taught me that,” she says. The medics nod at her, “it looks like they were able to repair the damage,” she says to both of them. Caitlyn wraps her other arm around Vi’s shoulder, fingers settling on the nape of her neck, “Vi will just need rest.”

“Thank you,” Caitlyn whispers. 

Mel would like to think she means for the healing. But seeing the way she clutches Vi to her, it may just be because Vi is there. The knowledge that one is needed is profound. But to be needed by one you love even more so. Mel does not know the limits of her power. If she would have been able to do that without the echo of Viktor in their heads. 

But watching how they clutch each other, she thinks perhaps it would have worked regardless. 

[webanglikethat]

things ram and devi have done and said without even saying they’re in love / being in a relationship because they drive me insane:

Ram defied orders from the LITERAL goddess because he didn’t want Devi to die, thus ignoring his duties

-> like …. he willingly let another woman DIE in Devi’s place and !!!! this act had been committed five years ago, when the affection between the two had BARELY begun blossoming

-> “Why bother when the goddess herself allows you to decide people’s fate?” had been Devi’s question to him, but little did she know, he already defied every rule for her, going against literal fate

he saved Devi during the arson, putting her before his own BROTHER

he went after Devi when she took off on an horse during the attack, and carried her in his arms back to safety (which he realllyy didn’t have to do 🤭)

it’s revealed he would purposefully change his route to catch a glimpse of Devi

-> Ram’s wishful desire was to see her at every service; just hoping to catch her smile along the hallowed halls where once they met

he “noticed an unfamiliar feeling rising inside him” when he met her again

Ram always found an excuse to touch Deviya — holding her hand to lead her somewhere, brushing his fingers over her cheek to calm her, cupping her face, putting a hand on her waist, trapping her against the wall, his finger on her lips, holding her hands tighter as if it could heal her holding her waist as she straddled him

he said he “missed her smiling at him”

he kissed her neck (quite literally marking her) while thinking of how De Clare would react, not realizing the jealousy that was growing in his heart at the thought of losing her to him

-> which he then said (in season 2) he’d do it on her wedding day too !!

-> in the same episode he tried to pretend he doesn’t care about their engagement 💀, mission failed my dude 🤭

“That. The way he felt when she was near him. The reason he always looked for her in the crowd and couldn’t stop teasing her”

ram always thought of marriage as a transaction, a duty to be fulfilled, something he simply had to do. and love? love wasn’t a necessary equation. that’s what his family line looked like — alliances, partnership, all devoid of tenderness. but Deviya awakened something in Ram — and for the first time, he was confused and lost

“It’s ironic that even with all the knowledge and wisdom of the world at my disposal, I still can’t figure this out on my own. I’m almost thirty, and for all of my life I have denied myself what I wanted because the greater good was more important. And in all this time… no one has ever been able to enchant me as much as…”

Ram talked Devi through her anger at the reception so she wouldn’t make a mistake in front of her guests and lose the position she had so long worked for (he helps her see the bigger picture)

Ram told her their connection wasn’t for nothing. they were fated for a reason

the less often he saw her, the more he wanted to see her

-> and if she didn’t came, he would wait for her

he noticed everything she did — be it the way she shifted from foot to foot when she was nervous or how she looked at him in fear (from the subtlest of things to the most obvious, he noticed it always)

he teased her about how much she liked him but then said:

“such a rakhasi cannot possibly die. I need her”

admitting, even if it was meant as a tease, that he could no longer exist in a world in which her presence didn’t fill his heart’s pages

he comforted her on the day of her death, quickly realizing that:

“/ wish this had happened to me instead... hasn't she been dealt enough pain already, in her life?”

“when Ram realized how sincere his desire to take all Deviya's troubles for himself was, it quickly became clear that their secret relationship had taken on a new meaning … growing into something profound”.

what started as a perhaps meaningless, fleeting, teasing affair quickly turned into something more — something he couldn’t put a name to, but he could feel encompassing his body every single second

he could no longer pretend it was just for fun or a distraction

so he finally mustered up the courage to ask Devi to be with him (but not officially 😔) even if it was in secret — for he would rather have her in secret, than lose her be it to death or another man. 

noticing how distressed she was, he closed his eyes and then slowly began kissing her fingers. Devi noticed that his eyelashes were trembling. “he’s nervous as well, but once again he tries to reassure me first, even though he could use some support himself."

he always put her before himself, over and over again. this isn’t something he was taught, like I mentioned before. for him, marriage or love was based on children, mutual respect and the husband’s views. yet he interminably put himself in the background, just to help Devi shine

“they kissed each other gently and yet desperately at the same time, as only doomed lovers can kiss.”

“he was with her right at that moment. sharing her pain and fear... would that have been possible if what they had was fleeting? he always chose her, no matter what.”

Ram: “I'll be with you. no matter what.” Devi: “I know”

he fought for her, allowing her to escape

and her thoughts led to him, even as she bled out

“the very thought of losing him was unbearable. and just as things were beginning to blossom between them.” “dying would be a little easier if you were holding my hand right now”

"I'm with him in my thoughts, heart, and soul." // "even if it doesn't make any real sense, it does for me. l feel calmer this way."

being away from her, when she was in a coma, made Ram feel like he was dying too // the thought of losing him (as she actively died) felt even worse than death

-> his biggest dream was being able to touch her again, to gaze into her eyes, to see his affection being mirrored in hers. to hear her laughter again was all he could hope for

they risked MULTIPLE times to be caught just to bask in each other’s presence — even if it was only for a few moments because the risk was worth it — they are worth it to each other

his face “instantly lost colour” when she mentioned her wedding

he tried pretending it didn’t hurt him — that he could accept it, that he could have a part of her and let it be enough, but they both knew the truth

so she laid out her future: her married to De Clare, visiting India from time to time, meeting Ram’s wife — but not him because he would still remain a coward who couldn’t voice what he wanted

so he finally let his feelings free and kissed her, marking her neck (in the middle of the hall where everyone could’ve caught them)

he touched her under the table — at dinner, where again, anyone could’ve seen them !!!

the moment Devi’s smile faded, Ram noticed immediately and shifted his tone, asking softly, “is something wrong?” -> he is SO attuned to her emotions, so skilled at noticing even the slightest change — which is especially important since Ram isn’t portrayed as someone who does this for just anyone

they know each other well enough to play off each other’s words without malice — their banter is so much fun (especially on passion route)

he fingers her in the library 🤭 he’s SO careful with her even though it’s obvious they’re both overwhelmed by the connection — he’s letting her set the pace and the fact that Ram doesn't push, but instead allows her to slowly move at her own pace, amplifies her vulnerability and makes her every move feel more significant. she’s still confused on what she wants and he lets her explore it on her own, and she knows he will wait for her

he wanted to dance with her despite not knowing how to — and in front of everyone too !! he was ready to embarrass himself for her

-> he is so caught up in her that he’s willing to push past his own comfort zone, even if it means embarrassing himself a little; as long as he can witness her smile

now she is the one who takes the power and kisses him, marking HIS neck — and so they imagine each other naked, finally taking the next step and ….

he finally admits it to himself.

He wanted to finally understand what it meant to connect with the woman he loved with all his heart.

Ram Doobay is in love with Deviya Sharma.

[mobtism]

GRRRR. thinking abt my middle school ocs

[kirozai]

—HSR YANDERES AS TROPES.

Forced Proximity? Soulmates..? Amenesia! Common tropes that always end up happy! Your favorite characters love you so so much! But.. is it in the way you want?...

content warnings: yandere, toxic love, unreliable narrator, descriptions of gore, unrealistic relationships, unwanted PDA, depressive elements, suggestive, gn!reader (maybe ideas for makeup but most of the part is gn) pairing(s): sunday x reader, blade x reader, aventurine x reader, jing yuan x reader word count: around 350-500 each, 2100+ words in all A/N: I got a tiny bit carried away

Aventurine - Amnesia

WHAT’S PLAYING: engravings - Ethan Bortnick

Your eyes are blinded by the casino lights. The sound of chips being thrown and cards being shuffled fills your ears. Things feel so familiar, but at the same time, completely foreign. You turn your eyes to your lover. At least you think he’s your lover.

Two weeks ago you woke up in the dead of night on a hospital bed feeling numb from your head to the tips of your toes. The hospital lights were blinding making you feel dreary. You slowly regained movement by wiggling your fingertips and finally being able to sit up on the comfortable bed. As you gazed around the room you felt shocked to see gold engravings on the trim of the walls. It’s obvious it was a hospital, but it felt too expensive.

And you? You felt out of place.

A nurse walked into your room with a pan of what seemed like a new IV bag and other things like syringes and such. She turned wide-eyed and gasped as she suddenly dropped the pan of expensive medical equipment. You couldn’t make out what she said as she mouthed something out loud. The drowsiness hit you and you passed out.

The next time you woke up to a man sitting beside your bed in the most luxurious clothes you ever laid eyes on. He looked worried, very worried. Realizing you woke up once again his Avgin eyes-

Wait Avgin?...

“Sweetheart! You’ve been out for months. How are you feeling? Is there any pain? How… Can…?” He spoke quickly but after the first couple of sentences, his words faded into mush.

He called you sweetheart though, you deduced he was someone close to you. Someone that must have cared for you. 

But then why do you feel-

Cutting your thoughts you paused. Thinking was causing you too much pain and headache at the moment. You tried to recall what happened. 

And at that moment you realize you couldn’t even recall who you were.

After some time of recovery, you were able to get a couple of things down. The handsome man’s name was Aventurine. He is your lover. (?) You two have been together for quite some time now. You were diagnosed with severe amnesia, but your lover was kind enough to explain everything to you. Although, he was still hesitant to explain what happened to you and the reason why you were in the hospital.

You tried to get something out of the many doctors and nurses, but they seemed… scared.

Aventurine never left your side when other people were around. It was either you and him or no one at all. Leaving you lost and not being able to truly be clear about your condition. Everything went through Aventurine. 

One day during your walk around the large hospital, Aventurine got a call. He looked at it and furrowed his eyebrows, smiled at you, said it was an urgent call, apologized, and left for a brief moment. 

You dragged your IV stand a couple of steps more and abruptly stopped in your tracks as you overheard a pair of nurses talk about… you?

“IPC… they… lies… Aventurine… hiding.” Those were the only few words you were able to make out.

It no longer mattered though because Aventurine’s bright smile found you again and you walked back to your room first. If only you could see the piercing glare that he sent to the nurses. He wouldn’t know what to do if you heard about the fates of them after spreading lies to your pretty head.

After the recovery, you settled in enough to “your life”. Now you sit next to your lover whose luck shines more vibrant than a newborn baby’s laughter. You feel content for the most part.

I wonder if you would still feel content if you were able to take a good look past Aventurine’s perfect poker face. While you sleep he watches you worriedly, wondering if you’ll remember one day. Remember that this perfect love story he crafted isn’t so perfect after all. He wonders how you would react if you were to find out again the atrocities he’s committed in the name of “love”. He holds his chips tightly, but luck has always been on his side.

So tonight like any other night, you’ll smile with no idea of what had occurred in the past. At the end of the day, occasionally it is better to live unaware.

•••

Jing Yuan - Grumpy x Sunshine

WHAT'S PLAYING: Carousel - Melanie Martinez

The Luofu General was known for his joyous laughter and the positivity that he spread throughout the entire planet. He joked and was an infectious smiler. You on the other hand were known as the Yin to his Yang. If Jing Yuan was the sun, you were his moon. It’s adorable on paper, isn’t it?

You do nothing less than agree with the fact that your husband Jing Yuan was very positive. The reason why differed from others though. 

You believed the reason he was so happy was because he sucked every smile, every laugh out of you. 

Your story was the average fairytale, opposite attracts and then they fall in love. The End.

Unfortunately for you, Jing Yuan was anything but ordinary, and maybe that played a part in your perfect tragedy. 

Jing Yuan loved you. You knew that for sure. He had always been a PDA person, always close to you and you would most likely be seen dead than without his arm around your waist. It wasn’t a big deal though. This is what lovers usually do right?

Until you tried to back away. Things got… messy. 

Arguments ensued and you realized that he never really treated you as an equal. He loved you, yes, but he viewed you as lesser and somehow put you on a pedestal at the same. exact. time.

“You don’t respect me.” You stated firmly.

“But I love you.” He replied as if nothing was wrong.

You never thought your husband to be a jealous person and truly he was not. The possessiveness is what got you through.

It began small from making excuses on why you shouldn’t go out,

“It’s my day off!” or “It might rain soon.” Both are lazy excuses you’ve heard again and again. Yet you still seemed to fall again and again for his sunshine charms and wits.

You were the perfect lover to Jing Yuan, loving, kind, and malleable to believe whatever he wanted you to believe.

At some point after the large argument you two shared, you didn’t remember the last time when you had left the estate. 

You felt stuck, stuck on a carousel that kept going around and around and stuck trying to read between the lines of Jing Yuan’s perfect facade. If you caught him at the wrong time you wouldn’t see him for days and when he would return he would haphazardly apologize with the stupidest excuses. 

You never raised your voice anymore after THAT argument though. You were too scared to. So even when he scratches his name into your skin, even if he hugs you so tightly to the point that you feel like your lungs are collapsing, you find excuses for him. For yourself. To make this entire relationship work

Because you love him.

And you don’t not what scares you more anymore. The slight warning in his tone and the ever-present toxicity seeping its way into your originally “perfect” marriage. 

Or.

The fact you’ll still stay even if it gets worse.

Why?

Because you love him.

•••

Blade - Forced Proximity.

WHAT’S PLAYING: This is Love - Air Traffic Controller

There’s blood on the walls, the floors, and even on the couch. Anything you’ve been able to find you’ve smashed onto the ground. Your hands are covered in blood. No worries to Blade though. He sits on the couch covered in the blood of a man. Your eyes flicker to the dead body right in front of you. The now dead man who tried to help you escape from this prison Blade oh so lovingly calls “your” home to no avail.

Blade’s red eyes stare into the distance of space. Perhaps he’s wondering what he should do next for your transgressions. Perhaps he is wondering what he can do to make you smile again. Or maybe, he doesn’t care. Maybe he finds happiness and contentedness in your suffering. After all, a being who is forever stricken by mara might find peace in others' pain. 

But.

Past this mara-stricken being is a man who does have some semblance of love for you. Blade knew your every like and dislike. He would trail kisses up your neck and on your lips. You’d joke together. You both were disgustingly domestic at times. At least that’s what appeared. Loving Blade wasn’t difficult when every moment you breathed you were near him. 

You wear outfits perfectly fitted to your style sponsored by your self-proclaimed lover himself. Anything you want you’ll get. Jewels, clothing, books, anything you could ever desire. It’s nothing but pocket money for the Stellaron Hunter. 

Your mascara has been smudged after all the tears. Your sniffles fill up the room, you look at your palms. Hands covered in scratches and blisters from broken glass and accidental burns. You don’t have to worry though, Blade will patch it all up for you. This situation will fade into the past just like all the others. Your head peaks again at the dismembered and maimed body on the floor. You stop breathing yet again. You shut your eyes and open them once again when you feel a warm breath on your neck. 

It’s Blade, you can tell that the mara had warned off him. He tightens his arms around your body and somehow pulls you closer than he ever did before in your “relationship”. You blink once again as a tear rolls down your cheek and pray to any Aeon out there for help. Despite this, you're well aware it’s no use. There’s no place in the universe where Blade won’t find you. So you close your eyes to hum a broken chord as you prepare for the cycle to begin again.

•••

Sunday - Soulmates

WHAT’S PLAYING: Butch 4 Butch - Rio Romeo

Fairytale love stories where the prince and the princess lived happily ever after were something that you grew up with on your home planet. As you grew up though, “soulmates” left your mind. Other things like making credits and exploring the galaxies were more on your agenda than finding “true love”.

True love was a fairytale. Something that didn’t exist and that’s what you stood by ever since.

Ever since your planet was destroyed by its inhabitants. If people couldn’t love the homes they lived in how could they ever love one another?

You enjoyed travel, you enjoyed learning about other planets, cultures, and people. You didn’t have time for the nonexistent love. Though you enjoyed hearing the stories of it. You’ve met others who found their “soulmates”, their one and only blessed by the Aeons themselves. 

On your travel across the world, you stumbled on Penacony, The Planet of Dreams and Entertainment. The perfect and endless days are what brought you in the most. You could be there for days on end but turn out to only spend a couple of hours outside in the “real world”.

Real world huh?

You think you miss the real world a little bit. 

“Are the pastries not to your liking love?” Sunday inquires.

“They’re… fine.” You reply.

Sunday smiles. You don’t know what it means though. He smiles at everything, he smiles at gatherings, at your laughter, and even at the tears you desperately try to hold in. He thinks of you as something to be protected, something that should be kept safe in a cage, away from the tainted lies of others.

Everything feels uncomfortable, from the moment you met Sunday you felt an odd gravitational pull towards him. It was truly as if he was your soulmate. 

Except,

Something begged you to run away, something deep in the back of your soul. It all went away when you laid eyes on him though. 

You wish you listened to your fight AND flight response.

Everything you wear is coordinated by the Head of the Oak Family. From the tiniest detail to your entire personality. Sunday is a firm believer that only the true you can come out behind closed doors, with locks only he has access to. His mansion was the perfect enrichment for a now flightless bird like you. 

Perhaps the fairytales were somewhat true. The prince and the princess always seemed to stay forever together.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Even if the sky was falling

Part II

warning: fighting, blood, sexual tension if you squint, fire and angst… 😈

request: had this thought about azriel xteacher!reader fem or gn if you prefer and reader teaches nyx so the IC interacts with the reader a lot and all love her and think she’d be perfect with az but he’s too much of a wimp to make it official but they are still flirty. basically fate makes him man up when nyx’s class is attacked and reader is trying to protect him and then az saves the day.

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Nyx, as much as he was brave and outgoing with his family, turned into the shell of himself when exposed to people he didn’t know. And while he loved to learn and genuinely was a curious kid, school hadn’t come easy for him. “We would be nowhere close to where we are now if not for Y/n”, Feyre mused once the conversation had once again slipped to Nyx over dinner. “She puts lots of care into looking after him”, Rhys nodded along, “He loves her too”. That had of course peaked Azriel’s curiosity. He didn’t sense danger but you could never trust anyone, especially a stranger, fully. And this was his family he was talking about. One he had sworn to protect.

That’s how the spymaster had found himself slowly walking towards the school. There had still been hours till pick-up time, but he wanted to see you in action. Working that magic of yours and magic he had seen. It had been a beautiful day in Velaris, the sun high in the sky, warm breeze rattling the leaves. The laughter was impossible to miss. It was infectious. Bumping off every surface. In the middle of it stood you, surrounded by ecstatic faces as they swarmed you. Like little bees trying to land on the prettiest of flowers.

Azriel still struggled with the concept of care and love. His imagination was wild but he could never imagine a happy childhood. A warm and safe home. He had that now, yes, but to have that from birth? To be loved from the first breath you take. That was foreign to him. So he stood there watching how you spun around in a circle. Clapping your hands to the nursery rimes the kids were belting out. And your smile had made Azriel smile too. Slightly. Ever so slightly making him smile.

“Uncle Az”, Nyx's excited voice had caught up with Azriel when he had finally crossed the schoolyard. With no effort the spymaster had caught the boy with one hand, lifting him onto his shoulder. “Have you been good today, bud”, Azriel patted him on the stomach, making Nyx nod eagerly, “I was, I was really good, right Mrs. Y/n”, his eager purple eyes trailed back to you and Azriel felt as if a goddess was now in front of him. You had been pretty from afar, but up close….

“I don’t know them broccolis, didn’t make it to your mouth did they?”, you raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms over your chest. “You didn’t eat your broccoli?” Azriel looked back at his nephew who was sending silent daggers your way. “They smell like Uncle Cassian’s farts”, the boy whined. The silence felt for a moment as Azriel turned to glance at you, for some reason feeling the need to apologize for Nyx’s words only to catch a big smile. And within the heartbeat, both of you had burst out laughing. “Go get yourself a bun, you little devil”, Azriel shook his head, letting the boy down.

The promise of a sweet bun had delighted him but Nux still turned to you first. Running to hug your knees as he glanced up at you. “Till tomorrow, Y/n”, he mused, that Rhys’s smile on his face now. “You say hi to your parents from me”, your fingers threaded through his hair. “Can’t wait to see you tomorrow”, you mussed, bending down to cup his cheek before kissing the top of his head, watching as he ran off towards the stand, Azriel’s shadows twirling alongside him.

“So, the day has come”, you mussed attention now fixed on the Illyrian in front of you. “I have no idea what you are talking about Mrs. Y/n”, Azriel's firm tone found you. “I saw you in the field, the tree was big but you were bigger”, You narrowed your eyes at him. And he thought he was smooth out there. “You sure know how to flatter a male”, Azriel mussed, crossing his arms over his chest, the toned tattooed muscles gleaming, “Nothing rubs my ego more than being called big”.

You let out a gasp, clipping him on the side with one hand, “Watch your mouth”, you shushed him, “There are kids here”. But now standing so close to him, you could feel the way your heart picked up. He was beautiful. Mother, every woman in Velaris probably had brought herself to an orgasm just thinking about the spymaster. “What would they say if they knew what their teacher was thinking about just now”, his words felt like a cold bucket, yet your cheeks bloomed red. “You’re no mind reader”, you scoffed, “Ego pressing on the little brain?”. Azriel caught your wrist, pinning it behind your back. Another gasp slipped past your lips as his chest pressed against you, “But I can smell it”, he mussed, “Come have dinner with me”. You couldn’t help but laugh, “Nice try”, you muttered. “I’ll fly you over myself if I have to”, Azriel warned. “Maybe you’ll have to come more often”, you made sure the enfaces the third to last word, causing Azriel to let out a lower chuckle, “You’re dangerous”, “Yet you are here”, you beamed at him.

It had stayed like this. This push and pull. Push and pull for weeks. Azriel had become accustomed to picking Nyx up almost every day. It was his easy pass to see you. Even if every time he walked through the gates he was met with an eye roll from you. And while you loved to prod and poke each other there had always been a sense of ease. As if finally someone had seen him. On some nights Azriel even found himself sharing the gruesome side of his job. And it had been your soft hands that had coxed him back to safety. Your eyes that had managed to see through the debris and find the truth beneath it all.

A light smile hadn’t left his face ever since and now as he finished the last bits of work for the day, he couldn’t wait to go get you. Drop Nyx home and spend the evening together. Just you and him. That was until something flashed across the sky. Azriel frowned pushing his chair back. Just he didn’t make it far as a loud explosion rattled the buildings. Alarms rang through the city as people started screaming outside. He was about to rush through the doors when his shadows slammed right into him. Bringing with them the sound of screaming. Children screaming. Women screaming. And a familiar voice there. Your voice and his whole body ran cold.

Everything had died down after that, all Azriel heard was static as he winnowed in front of a burning building. Some figures draped in black swirled around the school. Daggers in hand. His soldiers were already there, falling like stars from the sky. But all Azriel could think of was you and Nyx, somewhere there in the burning building. His feet moved faster than his mind as he hit the jammed door with his shoulder, breaking it in the first time. The ashen face of an elderly woman was the first thing he saw, and a litter of kids with faces shoved against her skirt in hopes of breathing as little fumes as possible.

“Come on, my man will keep you safe”, he reached out, steadying her and then counting up the little ones. “Who else is here?”, he asked through the crackling. “Upstairs”, she sobbed, “Please”. Azriel’s head snapped to the stairs. The broken down stair that had no doubt made it impossible for the ones upstairs to leave.

He could feel heartbeats. Racking through them to find a familiar one. And then a scream tore through the walls. Nyx’s name and… He was winnowing up. Ripping door after door he searched for the place you both had to be in. Eyes burning from the smoke. “Hand him over”, a thick voice snarled. “Fuck yourself and bend over”, you wheezed. Azriel’s boot came in contact with the center of the last door. And there you were a broken glass in hand as you shoved Nyx behind you. And an ill-looking male with a bloodied sword in front of you. Azriel’s shadows swarmed him, drowning the male in the dark as they pushed through every possible way into his body, the screams filling the small space. You turned back, clasping your hands around Nyx, pressing his face into your chest so he would not have to see it. It was in the infamous spymaster in front of you, in his real and lethal form as he stepped over the body trashing beneath him. His fingers that so carefully held you now gripped the jaw of the man who had threatened your life, Nyx’s life.

“You owe me a handful of breaths”, Azriel muttered against his ear, “And I will make you pay for them. You’ll wish you never breathed at all”, the coldness poured out of him. And if not for the coughs that slipped from Nyx’s lips you were sure that Azriel wouldn’t have moved from his spot. But his head snapped to the side, the complete darkness leaving his eyes. His shadows moved around you, offering you both oxygen. In two steps he had crossed the distance between you two. In two steps that had made you curl deeper into yourself as you held onto Nyx.

Azriel's jaw flexed as he watched you recoil from him. He felt your fear, it was all over. “I will not hurt you”, he muttered, “I’ll just get you both out”, his voice was back to the honey cone smoothness, as his hand wrapped around your shoulder. “Uncle Az”, Nyx choked out. “Try to breathe as little as possible, buddy”, Azriel’s palm cupped the back of Nyx’s head, “it will all be over soon”.

It felt almost like waking up from a nightmare. The fog cleared up. Air returning to your lungs. The light of flames was replaced by the sun. There was much more noise here. The screaming. You blinked to see parents looking for their kids. Mother’s weeping. “Mom”, Nyx pushed against your chest but you clung to him, “Daddy”, his voice broke. You felt him trashing in your arms but you couldn’t let go. Warm hands slid over your hands, gently pulling them apart, “He’s safe, you kept him safe”, Azriel’s voice flooded your mind. You watch Nyx’s trembling legs crossing the distance between him and his parents. The high lord falling to his knees as he wrapped the little boy in his arms. Your legs bucked, only to be met with a firm grasp on your hips as you collapsed into Azriel’s embrace.

“I’ve got you”, he muttered, “You are safe, my love, no one will hurt you”. You looked up, feeling the sting in your eyes, “Azriel”, you breathed. “I know”, he nodded, brushing the strand of your hair away from your face. You watched him for a moment, dizziness creeping in. Until your gaze darted down slowly, where warmth had been gathering all this time. “What is it?”, Azriel asked as his eyes followed yours. You heard the breath hitching in his throat before his palm pressed against your abdomen. Somewhere deep in your consciousness, you knew that you should have screamed out. But as you watched crimson seeping through his fingers you almost felt as if this body wasn’t yours.

“Y/n, my love, can you hear me”, Azriel’s worried eyes watched you, “Fuck”, cursing he looked around in panic, “Fuck, someone, please we need a healer here”. You felt Azriel’s hand slowly brushing against your back as he lowered you onto the grass. “Keep your eyes on me”, he pleaded, “Let me see your pretty eyes, I missed them so much today, did you know that?”, he was rambling you noted, something he never did. But you nodded anyway, “I missed you”, you muttered right back as his eyes snapped to the side. He was searching for a healer you did not doubt it. “Azriel”, you breathed out, but he didn’t budge. “Az”, you muttered, bringing your shaky palm to cup his cheek.

“Don’t you dare do this to me”, he whined through gritted teeth. “Come closer”, you muttered, feeling the way his hand dug into the wound on your side. But he followed your wishes this time, leaning closer till your foreheads were pressed together. “Tell me something you haven’t told me before”, you muttered, feeling your eyelids getting heavy. Azriel nuzzled against your cheek and you could feel his tears brushing onto your skin. “I love you”, he breathed, “I’m in love with you”, that was enough to make your heart leap up, tugging at the feeling so familiar, ancient, and deep. “And I love you”, you smiled at him, “Even if the sky falls and till my last breath then”, you felt him pulling back then, pulling at the thread joining you as one. You tugged as hard as your body allowed you, watching his golden eyes till your eyes couldn’t stay open anymore. Till you were sure the whole earth rattled as Azriel screamed.

[grapejuicebrat]

carry you home

PAIRING: rafe cameron x reader

SUMMARY: where rafe finally found someone who loves him. and where finally rafe falls in love.

my masterlist

The best love is unexpected. You don't just pick someone and cross your fingers it'll work out. You meet them by fate and it's an instant connection, and the chemistry share is way above your head. You just talk and notice the way their lips curve when they smile or the colour of their eyes and all at once you know you're either lucky or screwed.

That’s what Rafe loves about you. Well, actually, he just loves you. He loves the way you smile, the way you walk, the way you talk. The way you hug him wherever he is sad. The way you talk him through hard times. The way you immediately know when something is off. The way you taught him how to trust people and not be afraid to express feelings.

You were his light in the darkness.

When he first met you he thought that you were disgustingly cute and sweet and shit. You didn’t care about Rafe being a total dick to you. You just wished him a nice day and offered a free ice cream just because you were in a good mood to make people happy.

And guess what? In the evening, the same day, Rafe felt guilty. You were so nice to him and he did everything to ruin your good impression of him. Like you weren’t like this pogues who just see him and are ready to throw all shit at him. You were literally smiling and offered a fucking ice cream. When he told you to fuck off and stop smiling.

Guess again? The next day Rafe bought you an ice cream in your own shop. And he apologised for being a dick. And of course you forgave him.

“Sure thing! Everybody has a bad day, it’s okay!”

And your sweet voice wasn’t that disgusting anymore.

You showed him one important thing that no one has ever been able to show him before. Not that he’s beautiful, not that he’s smart, not that he’s sweet. None of that. You showed him something more important than any of those things. You showed him that he was important, that there's a reason he’s here. You made him feel like the world was lucky to have him.

And Rafe doesn’t know if anyone will ever make him feel that way again.

Waking up next to you was Rafe’s favourite thing after coming home to you after a long day at work. Honestly, it is so nice - knowing that here is someone who is actually waiting for you. You were always there for him. Supporting in every decision, giving advices when he needs them, just being silent because comfortable silence is so underrated.

And when you said you loved him? Rafe thought that he was about to pass out. It was the best fucking thing that ever happened to him. Knowing that someone loves him. Just because he exists. Maybe he is toxic, manipulative. But she loves him. The way he is.

“I love you. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever. If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If I were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one.”

And then Rafe cried. And no, he wasn’t embarrassed of this. Because you taught him that it’s not a disgusting thing to express your feelings. It’s okay to cry. Just because you’re a man it doesn’t change anything. You’re still allowed to cry and to laugh and to be silent. Rafe is a human too after all.

“You know what i’ve learned from your stupid romcoms?” Rafe asks you and kisses your cheek.

“They are not stupid!” you roll your eyes and laugh. “But anyway, what you’ve learned?”

“The world was made so that we could find each other in it.”

And he was finally happy, having the love of his life in his arms.

this one is so special to me and no i won’t stop writing about rafe being a softie lmao

if you would like to be added to my taglist leave a comment or let me know by sending me in my ask!

tag list: @ivy-34

[7ndipity]

He Forgets Your Birthday

Yoonig x Reader

Summary: You’ve always had a complicated relationship with your birthday, but Yoongi’s always there to comfort you. Until he isn’t.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: angst, comfort, swearing, suggestive at the end

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request, I hope you like it!

Masterlist

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You never really liked your birthday.

For as long as you could remember, you could sense the looming feeling of dread and unease each year as the date drew closer. You don’t know what it was exactly, maybe it was because of how you were raised, maybe it was just a quirk of your personality, but whatever the reason, you could never shake the feeling of guilt, as if you were a burden to those around you.

Over the years though, you had been lucky enough to find a circle of people that, while they might not fully understand your feelings on the subject, made a point to make sure you felt special and remind you of how much they cared for you whenever that fateful day rolled around.

One of the best at this was Yoongi.

Yoongi had always had a particular knack for being able to read your emotions and understood your feelings about your birthday, he wasn’t exactly fond of his either, but that didn’t stop him from worrying whenever he noticed you growing more quiet and withdrawn as it approached.

He never pressured you to share what was going on in your mind in those times, but he always found little ways to let you know that he was there for you and to show how much he loved you.

It was never anything super elaborate; last year, the two of you just went to the movies, because he knew there was a particular film you’d been dying to see.

It never really mattered to you what you did though, so long as you were together, you were happy.

Though, time together had been rather hard to come by the past few months.

Yoongi had been busier than ever, traveling and working relentlessly in preparation for his new album. Most nights he was holed up at the studio til 2 or 3 in the morning working on songs.

You worried about him over extending himself, but he assured you that he had it all under control, that he was able to keep up with everything.

It was another one of those late nights at the studio as he sat hunched over his soundboard when the sound of his phone finally managed to break through his hyperfocus.

Glancing at his phone, he face pulled into a slight frown as he read the text notification from Namjoon.

“How’s Y/n?”

“Fine, I think. Why??” He sent back, confused by the random question.

“Idk, she just seemed a bit down earlier when I sent a happy b-day msg”

“Her birthday’s not till tomorrow-

”Oh fuck.” He swore out loud, checking the date on with a sink stomach as he realized his horrible mistake.

Jumping to his feet, he felt his heart drop again at the sight of the time on his phone screen.

10:02pm.

“Fuck.” He cursed again, nearly running down the hall to the elevators. He couldn’t believe he’d mixed up the days so badly. How could he have fucked up something like this?

Had you realized yet? Most likely, he hadn’t heard anything from you since your usual morning texts. You must’ve been so upset, how was he ever going to make up for this to you?

He practically ran up the stairs to your apartment, knocking frantically on the door and begging that you weren't so mad that you wouldn't answer.

As soon as you opened the door, he tackled you in a crushing bear hug.

“Yoongi, what-?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” He mumbled into your neck.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“Your birthday.” He felt you stiffen slightly.

Pulling away to look at you, his heart broke further as he noticed the faint redness around your eyes.

“I got the days mixed up, I thought it was tomorrow,” He explained guiltily. “I’m so sorry, Jagi.”

You looked down, nodding slowly.

“It’s okay.” You said softly, voice still somewhat croaky from your earlier bout of crying.

“It’s not, though. I should’ve been here.” He said, growing more upset with himself.

“You’ve been busy, I get it.”

“That's no excuse,” He said. “I still fucked up.”

“It’s fine, Yoongi, really.” You said tiredly, wanting desperately to just forget the whole thing.

“No, it isn’t-” He insisted, gripping onto your hand as you tried to draw away.

“Yoongi, please.” The last word comes out far more broken than you intended it to, betraying your true emotions that you’d been trying to stamp down all evening.

Before you could help it, the tears you had been trying to hold back broke free, dripping down your cheeks and onto your joined hands.

Yoongi instantly pulled you to his chest, hugging you tightly as he backed the two of you into your apartment.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Jagi.” He whispered over and over, softly stroking your hair as your tears dampened his shirt.

After a few minutes once your sobs quieted, he pulled back to see your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently.

You nodded.

He led you over to the couch, still keeping you close as you sat silently for a moment.

“Are you angry?” He asked quietly.

You shook your head, biting your lip.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” He pleaded, his dark eyes boring into your own.

You thought for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath.

“I know that you love and care about me” You began slowly. “And I know you would never do anything to intentionally hurt me, but… not hearing from you, not even getting a text or something… I don’t know, it just kinda stirred up those old feelings and thoughts of how easily I could be forgotten, what if people don’t actually like me, what if they just tolerate me in their lives...”

Your voice was almost inaudible by the end, not wanting to fully admit the deprecating thoughts that were going through your mind.

Yoongi teared up at your words. He knew he’d asked, but hearing you say it aloud broke his heart; to know he’d scratched those old wounds and caused you to doubt yourself crushed him inside.

“Look at me,” He said seriously, turning to face you. “Those thoughts? Nothing could be further from the truth. You mean more to me than anything in the fucking world. I know I fucked up today, but I need you to know that there is nothing that could ever make me forget about you. You are the first and last thought in my mind every single day. Understand?”

You nodded, wiping away a few more stray tears that had slipped out.

“C’mere.” He pulled you into another tight embrace, kissing your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You muttered, tucking your face in the crook of his neck.

“If you want, we could still do something? Try and enjoy the last couple hours of the day, at least?” He offered

You shook your head. “I just want to be with you.”

He nodded, shifting around on the couch and pulling you onto his lap, holding you close.

“I love you.” He whispered again, running his soothing hands over your hips.

“I know.” You said, equally soft, cradling his face in your hands as you drew him in to connect your lips.

He kissed you deeply, trying to channel just how much you meant to him through the action, hands coming up to hold your waist, pressing you even closer.

He would never hurt you like this again, he swore to himself, pressing you closer to him. He would do everything in his power to remind you how much you meant to him every chance he got.

You sighed, looping your arms around his neck as you let yourself drift in the feeling of him all around you, the scent of his cologne, the soft sounds that left him as his lips drifted down the expanse of your throat, the way his hips twitched beneath you when you tugged at his hair.

Suddenly, he tipped you back on the couch, coming to hover over you, breathing unsteady as he stared down at you with an intensity that made you shiver.

“Happy birthday, Y/n.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0o0o0ooo @universal-travel-er @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[shaisuki]

THE EXTENSIONS OF MY DEVOTION

YANDERE! HUSBAND MIKAGE REO X CHUBBY READER

content warnings ─── implied noncon, forced marriage, yandere themes babytrapping, reader wants to have more kids, stockholm syndrome, smut, breeding kink, dubcon, pregnancy, talks of childbirth.

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ all changed in the blink of an eye and now you're the wife and mother of his children and despite all of what your ceo husband had done to you, you want more children.

the first time you feel him moving inside you, you were absolutely disgusted. horrified for soon to becoming the mother of the baby inside you. created by reo's selfishness and greediness that destroyed your once mundane life.

then he was born. all your worries and fear disappeared with the appearance of your baby. cradled in your arms and his little hand grasping your pinky finger. there were tears of regret streaming down your face of how you could hate this innocent little child without knowing what his father had done to you. wiping down the tears you made a commitment to yourself.

you were going to love this one with all your heart.

the first year with reo being your husband it was hell. how you were only doing paperwork yesterday, now it was filled with days of being told how to act like a proper wife to your ceo husband and being a mother to his heir. maintaining appearances to fit with your status. you're not a commoner anymore, the governess would say to you while being taught of the proper etiquettes.

you didn't enjoy any of it. aside from being taught on how to care for an infant which you insisted despite reo telling you that the nanny can handle it but you refused. you weren't raising this child to be spoiled, stuck up person. you will raise your child like how the way you were raised and your child is the only one who can receive your whole unconditional love.

mikage reiji. your firstborn with your husband. the surname almost bring tears to your eyes. you have it, the surname. appealing it was and leave everyone to be in awe as being the wife and the mother of his child — it was the kind of branding that means he owned you.

reiji was the reason of it. after reo forced himself to you and find out you were carrying his future heir, a wedding soon followed. it was his right, your soon-to-be husband said to you and he won't let his child with you be born to be an illegitimate and your fate was sealed.

even reiji was the cause of it, you lived your days with your son and his presence brought you peace. the only thing reo had done good that you learned to accept.

you enjoyed being a mother to your child and reo was a doting father. praising you for being a good mother to his child and he'll reward you with a kiss that soon turned to be a night of worshipping you.

after that when reiji turned a year old, you were pregnant again. the thought of being with child again scared you but when you look at reiji, you knew it was going to be fine and despite how much you hated reo, a new realization dawned on you. this occured to you many times before when your time was all on taking care of your baby that you enjoyed being a mother and you wished for more.

then reiji was followed by his baby sister being born a year later. a new addition to your family and you were happy. what's dark and cold when you were with reo is now replaced with the neverending joy of being with your children. watch as they outgrow their clothes, learned to call you as their mama. their cute giggles melting the worries in your heart and when the siblings are old enough to sleep in their own rooms, you found the courage to tell reo of your wishes one night.

“reo?” the ceo hums in response when you called his name while he's behind you. his arm draped in your plush stomach, drawing soft circles on it.

“i wish to tell you something.” you shift in your position. turning your body to face him. “what is it, treasure?” his voice soft and mellow. it's the only way he addressed you. “i want to have more children with you.” meeting his gaze and observe how it changes into something of curiosity to one of darkening. smirk blooming in his face.

“that's it, my wife?” he asks. knowing damn sure of it. reo have all the riches in the world and the wealth to give you more what you want and needed. “you want to give reiji and reiko a another sibling, a good choice — treasure.” moving above you to trap you with his body. pinning your arms in both sides as he licks his lips.

some part of you hates him or you got used to it. of him exploiting you and in return you treat it as something normal. no matter how you threatened him or cry in front of him, it doesn't change anything. reo made sure a long time ago that he'll find you even in the deepest pits of hell just to have you again.

it's enough to keep you beside him with no qualms and only received his undying fondness to you. he's obsessed and you're feeding it to him.

“yeah.” you confirm to him and reo leans down. capturing your lips to his and pushing his tongue deep inside your mouth. lowering the straps of your nightgown and tugging it down to reveal the body of his wife that had given him children.

two pregnancies and you're still looking divine. stomach rounder and littered with stretch marks, he can't wait to get you pregnant again. his gorgeous wife that turns anyone green with envy.

“g—going to breed this pussy again.” he groans. his hips moving in a fast pace with the intent of knocking you up again. “you want that, treasure? he moans out, holding your hips tighter. going deeper as possible like the first time he had done it to you. “want me to cum in this pretty pussy of yours and make me a father again? you want that?”

“yes! yes — ahhh! please, reo!” you cry out. digging your nails in his arms and he can feel you tighten. sucking him deep into this warm cunt of yours. it spurs him more to please his wife and giving her what she wants. reo only wants that happiness of yours.

he kisses you once again, your legs locking around his hips to prevent him from pulling out and with a brutal slam of his hips, both of your orgasm came rolling. spurts and spurts of his cum filling your fertile womb and soon it will bless him with a another child and he will fill you up again like a good husband.

there's nothing quite like it when he's all yours and you, round with his baby again.

[ivystoryweaver]

Day 11: I Never Knew (Marc, Jake, Steven)

Summary: You meet up with all 3 Moon Boys one fateful night

Notes: gn!reader, angst, violence, fluff, protective Moon Boys being the absolute best TW: abuse. This story starts with an abusive boyfriend.

Word Count: 4.8k

Angstember Prompt Post

Your boyfriend of two years had tested the last of your patience. At first you loved his passionate hotheadedness. You quickly fell for him and moved in together six months later. It was lovely at first, to have someone fun and spontaneous, to sleep next to a warm, protective body at night.

After about a year together, you realized something wasn't right. Your boyfriend kept odd hours, whispered hushed conversations over the phone, made "quick stops" at the oddest hours to the shadiest places.

And that hotheaded passion sizzled into blame and resentment every time you tried to reason with him. He was always quick to apologize, to bring you flowers, or a gift, to take you out for the night, lavishing you with attention and intense, vigorous sex.

So you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was trying, and every couple had their struggles.

But the fuse of his temper got shorter, and his actions, more suspect. He lost his regular job but somehow still brought home money. When you questioned him, he accused you of not trusting him. Something felt wrong, you knew it deep in your bones, but you told yourself that relationships take work and compromise.

It was just last week that you demanded to know why he was out all night - who he was with and where they went. He'd raised his voice before, on occasion, but that early morning was different. He roared out accusations, lunging at you, and continued yelling and screaming over your cowered body. He didn't touch you, but his words beat you down, literally to the ground, where he left you afraid, sobbing and alone.

That's what it took to make you realize he was abusive. Clearly, he was now verbally abusive, but you started to understand that he had been manipulative, dishonest and controlling the entire time, lying about finances and whereabouts.

He had abused you in almost every way, except physically. You knew it was time to leave, so you started to plan how you would secure yourself a place to stay and what to tell him.

Your phone rang as you finished packing your suitcase - the first of many things you needed to move out. Not recognizing the number, you ignored the call. But it rang again and again and again, with a voicemail that warned you to answer. You blocked the number and tried to frantically dial emergency when your boyfriend burst through the front door, enraged.

Barreling into your bedroom, he roared at you, demanding to know what you did with "the money". Apparently, the phone call was from his boss, calling to collect.

"You mean my money? From my job?" You challenged, shrugging him off and zipping your suitcase closed.

Jerking the luggage out of your hand, he screamed at you about how he needed that money for his boss, how he'd taken care of you all this time, and you owed him.

"You're gonna give me that fuckin' money," he spat, lunging toward you, but you were already running out the door with only your phone in your hand. You thankfully made it into the lift with the doors closed before he caught up, and you could only pray he wouldn't make it down the several floors of stairs and beat you to the lobby.

There was no one downstairs to help you, so you raced out the door into the night, frantically attempting to dial 999 while crying and trying to stay ahead of your insane boyfriend.

You ran as fast as you could, but he was bigger and stronger, and he was gaining on you. Attempting to cut through an alley, your lungs burned, painfully dragging in breath as you pushed yourself toward safety.

But he found you.

Your mobile clattered to the ground as he grabbed both your arms and shoved you hard against a brick wall, calling you all manner of vile names and demanding you give him the money from your account.

Noticing your phone, he twisted your wrist well beyond the point of pain. "You didn't call anyone, did you, bitch? If you get the police involved I'll fucking kill you."

You had already drained your joint account and put money in your personal savings account so that you could afford a deposit on a new place, at least get a moving truck and hook up some utilities. You didn't take any more money than you had made from your job at the museum.

"I owe my boss money and I need it right fucking now," he bellowed, wrapping one hand around your throat and squeezing. “Tell me where it is.”

Unbelievable that it took you til right now to realize your boyfriend was more than an asshole, he was apparently a criminal. Or at least his boss might be if he was demanding a midnight payoff "or else".

"I moved... the money," you gasped, completely out of breath from the running and the crying and the choking and the fear.

He gripped your shoulders and slammed you hard against the wall. "We're going to get it right now. Then we're going home and you're gonna get on your hands and knees and pay for all this shit you put me through."

You whimpered, trembling at his threats, disgusted that his eyes flashed with self-satisfaction. He slipped two fingers into your mouth, pushing them far enough to gag you, an evil chuckle making you cry harder.

"Oh yeah. We're gonna have fun tonight, baby."

"I don't think she wants to be your 'baby', shithead."

You gasped as two eerie, white gloved hands grabbed your boyfriend's head and slammed it against the wall, hard enough to knock him out cold, but not enough to bash his skull in. Unfortunately.

Through your tears, you saw an etherial mummy figure, bandaged and gauzey white, with haunting, moonlit eyes. Your body quaked with more terror than you'd ever known. Perhaps he was the boss your boyfriend was so afraid of.

You passed out in Moon Knight’s arms.

"Shit," Marc Spector hissed, lifting your limp body into a protective embrace. He'd heard your screaming blocks away. Khonshu had directed him to the asshole passed out on the pavement next to you, letting Marc know he was a small player in an elaborate criminal organization. It would keep him busy tonight.

Brushing your hair out of your eyes, he sighed. "Didn't mean to scare you." He decided to take you to A&E, but before he walked away, he kicked your unconscious boyfriend in the side for good measure.

You woke up on a hospital bed, alone, a long while later. It appeared you had been triaged but not admitted. Remembering your boyfriend's threats, you decided you better bail before the police questioned you or you found yourself responsible for medial bills you couldn't pay.

You were scraped and sore, but nothing seemed permanent, so you did your best to sneak back to the waiting room where you could blend in with other would-be patients. One nurse seemed to glance at you questioningly, but you managed to make it out the sliding glass doors and into the night.

Now what could you do? You had no money, no phone, no purse, no bank card, credit cards or cash. Your suitcase was back at your flat. Ambling around the side of the building, you shivered in the night air, realizing even your jacket was still in the building.

Tears burned your eyes but you couldn't give into them. Not now. Your best friend was out of town. It was a long weekend for your co-workers, at least in the office part of the museum. Your parents lived in another country.

Think, think.

A few minutes later, an old fashioned cab pulled up to the curb. The passenger side window lowered revealing a man with a flat cap and a mustache.

"Need a ride, señorita?"

Drawing your hands to your chest protectively, you quickly shook your head. "I-I don't have any money. I dropped my phone."

Shit. Why did you admit that to a stranger?

Jake Lockley nodded understandingly. He had been watching the hospital to make sure you had a ride, should you emerge. Marc's idea, after he did a little late night ass kicking. Marc knew the Moon Knight suit would frighten you, but he wanted to make sure you were okay. A cab ride might seem less intimidating.

"It's on me. You look like you could use a little help."

Tempting. But he probably worked for your boyfriend's boss. "No. No thank you. I'm fine."

"Understood. Be careful out there." He rolled up the window almost all the way before pausing. "I'll swing back by in a while, just in case you change your mind." He drove off without another word.

If he was aiming to hurt you or kidnap you, surely he could have forced you into the car, or worked harder to convince you it was safe to get into the car.

Weighing your options, you decided to try to walk back to the alley where the terrifying white-suited, Avenger-looking dude saved you. Hopefully your boyfriend would be gone and you could at least find your phone. From there, you would have a way to call a cab or the police or at least use money from your account.

As soon as you started walking, you realized how stupid this plan was. But what else could you do? It took you forever, but you finally found your way back to where you were attacked. Your boyfriend was indeed gone and after a maddening search, you found your phone with a cracked screen and 12% battery left.

Better than nothing. You thought you might order an Uber, but where could you go? Not home. Where?

Maybe to work. Someone there would help you, surely. Perhaps Steven from the gift shop - probably the kindest person you'd ever met. He lived in your building too, although you weren't sure in which flat.

You ordered the Uber, and ten minutes later, the same old fashioned cab pulled up to the curb. Your stomach flip-flopped, wondering if this mustached weirdo followed you. But he showed you the Uber confirmation and it was correct.

"But this is a cab," you reasoned.

He chuckled. "They don't make ‘em like this anymore, doll. This is my Uber car."

You tried to listen to your protective instincts, but the sun was rising. You'd been out all night and he was a legitimate driver. So you tucked yourself in the back seat.

The man tipped his hat, announced his name was Jake, and closed the door for you.

"Headed home?" He asked, glancing up at you in his rearview mirror.

"Uh no. No, I can't go home," you quickly answered, wrapping your arms around yourself and rubbing up and down with your hands.

"Got the heat on for you," he kindly offered, "and my jacket's laying across the back seat there, if you need it."

Your eyes cut over to the tempting leather. Without thinking about it too hard, you snatched the garment and pulled it around your trembling shoulders. The smell of not only leather but crisp freshness and earthy warmth, along with something like amber and oak, washed over you. You buried your nose in the comfort of it, grateful for this small mercy.

"Warming up?" He asked you after a quiet few minutes.

"Yes, thank you. You're very kind."

"My pleasure," he grinned in the rearview mirror and it made his eyes crinkle. Steven, from the museum, came to mind. His eyes did that too. "Where can I drop you? Have you decided yet or should I drive around for a while?"

"Oh god, sorry. One sec." Checking the time on your phone, you realized you'd been out practically all night, and the museum would open in a little more than an hour. You could wait outside. "The natural history museum, please."

"A little early for a trip through time. You sure?"

Just then, your stomach growled embarrassingly loudly.

"You ever eat at the bakery right down the street?"

"Um, sometimes." You fidgeted uncomfortably.

"No pressure. You just look like you could use something warm to drink."

Without another word, Jake pulled up to the museum's front entrance. You reached for the door handle, but stopped. "Actually...you're right. Could you drive me to the bakery? I'll just walk back to the museum when I'm done."

"As you wish."

A few minutes later, the old cab parked outside one of the only open restaurants at this hour. Jake rushed around to open the door for you and you quickly handed him his jacket.

"You can wear it if you're cold. No rush."

There was something warm and sincere in his eyes. Again your mind drifted to Steven.

"Thank you." As the two of you walked inside, you held up your phone. "I tried to pay for the Uber and leave you a tip, but it won't let me. Did the transaction get cancelled or something?"

"I told you," Jake reminded you, pulling open the bakery door, "My treat."

"Oh. Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

The two of you sat down and were quickly served glasses of water.

"At least let me pay for breakfast," you offered, but he laughed.

"They only take cash here, I think."

"Jake!" An older man bellowed, bustling up to the table with a karafe of piping hot coffee and two mugs. "We take more than cash. You can always wash the dishes."

The man winked down at you. "I'm teasing, sweetheart. Name's Burt. Janey got one of those Square things, so you can pay on your mobile if you do that kind of thing." He nodded at Jake. "But I'd make this one pay if I were you. Coffee or tea?"

You chuckled, happy to get your hands on a steaming mug of coffee, and slightly relieved that you wouldn't fall further into Jake's debt.

Soon enough, you filled your belly with a warm, flaky pastry and some eggs, polishing off two cups of coffee while you and Jake talked.

"Do you mind if I ask why you're going to the museum?" Jake inquired.

"Um...I work there," you slowly admitted.

"Oh." An unreadable expression clouded his handsome features. "But...I found you at the hospital last night. Are you hurt?"

Your eyes dipped in shame.

"Not trying to be nosy, just...concerned, is all." Gently reaching across the table, he pulled a leaf from your hair. An actual leaf.

You were mortified.

"Wanna freshen up before work?" He nodded toward the washroom.

"Yeah. Thanks." You made a beeline for the loo, wondering why you hadn't thought to put yourself together before walking into the museum like a crazy person.

Jake was right to be concerned. You looked like hell. Dark circles had formed under your eyes. Before you could continue silently berating yourself, the waitress named Janey quietly slipped through the swinging door.

"You okay, dear?" She softly asked, eyeing you in the mirror. Before you could answer, she handed you a clean cloth.

"Thank you," you whispered, gingerly taking the cloth and running it under the faucet. The kindness around you made you sniffle, and you were left wondering why you spent so much time on an asshole like your boyfriend.

"Rough night?" She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't want to pry. Just want to help."

"Thanks," you repeated. "Do you have a toothbrush for sale? Or...mints?"

Between you and Janey, you managed to clean up your mouth, wipe down the upper part of your body and manage to tame your hair.

"You come back by any time, dear," she said lowly as you walked back toward your table, but she reached out her arm to stop you. "I mean it. Anytime."

You nodded, reaching for your phone so you could pay for your meal. "On the house, sweetheart," Burt smiled down at you. "A friend of Jake's is a friend of mine."

You were speechless. Where had all the nice people been hiding?

Jake's eyes lit up when he saw you and he rose to greet you. "Feeling any better?"

You nodded, reaching for one more sip of water before you got back in the cab/Uber.

"Your friends are really nice. I haven't eaten there in a long time."

"We try to help each other out," Jake voiced, stealing a glance at you in the rearview mirror. "It can be rough out there."

You made it to the museum, thankful it would open soon. "You sure I can't pay you, or at least give you a good tip?" You asked him as he opened your door and offered you his gloved hand like a prince in a fairy tale.

"Just promise you'll call me if you need a ride. Or...anything. We'll call it even." He fidgeted with his mustache and you chuckled. Not a look you saw every day but he wore it well.

You thanked him again, but he noticed you stealing glances at his mustache.

"My uh...roomates think this thing is the worst. Not a good look?"

"Oh no," you laughed, "it's very dashing."

Jake bowed jokingly. "My lady."

You walked right into the museum wearing his jacket.

The security officer didn't recognize you because he worked weekends and you didn't. Probably a good thing. You could only hope Steven was scheduled today. But at least being inside the museum would give you a safe, comfortable place to think.

After meandering through several exhibits, you checked back at the gift shop, only to find Donna, Steven's boss, berating him for being late. He apologized profusely, professing that he had no idea why he hadn't heard his alarm. Poor thing. He was so sweet and Donna was just the worst.

She finally let him get to work, and as soon as she headed back to her office, you approached him carefully.

"Hi, Steven," you smiled at him, hoping he would have time to help you.

His eyes brightened when he saw you, but quickly narrowed in concern. You must really look like hell. "You alright, love?"

Bouncing on your toes, you shook your head quickly. "Not really. Can we talk?"

Steven knew he would get in trouble for leaving his post, but this was you. If you needed his help, Donna would have to wait.

Sure enough, she barreled back into the gift shop, ready for a lecture, but Steven pressed his hands together and demanded one more minute.

Guiding you by the elbow, he took you to a quiet corner. "Thought you had a long weekend. What brings you in?"

You asked if there might be any way you could talk in private, in one of the employee lounges. "I know you just got here. I can wait."

Chewing on his lip, he glanced between you and the swinging door where Donna lurked in her evil lair.

"Come on."

Once you were totally alone, he hesitantly reached for your face. “May I?” He whispered, gingerly brushing his fingertips over a scrape on your face. Peering down at your bruised wrist, he gently lifted your hand, shaking his head and exhaling sharply through his nose.

"You're hurt." His eyes locked with yours. "Who did this?"

Your face crumpled and you melted into his arms, the stress of the entire, sleepless night catching up to you. You knew this was the place to go, absolutely certain you would feel safe with Steven.

His heart burned protectively. The two of you sometimes ran into one another on your break, mostly out on the museum's front steps or at the vegan restaurant along the street. Occasionally you saw one another on the train home, or even in your building. He knew you had a boyfriend - the dimwitted bloke.

If that asshole hurt you...

"It's alright. You're safe here." He squeezed you comfortingly.

You finally settled, wiping your nose and eyes with Jake's jacket sleeve. Steven's eyes went wide as he studied the jacket carefully, but he shook his head and focused on you.

"Tell me what happened. What can I do?"

The softest brown eyed gaze you'd ever seen coaxed your confession out of you.

"I need your help," you whispered. "I need to get back into our building, but I don't have my key, or any of my stuff." You produced your phone. "And my phone is dead."

"Okay, of course," he nodded sincerely. "What about your boyfriend?"

"No, no, not him. I think he wants to kill me." You started to cry again.

"To k-kill you? Should we go to the police?"

"No, no police. I just need to get into my flat before my boyfriend gets back. If he's not back already."

Steven sighed. "I knew that dimwitted bloke was an asshole, but - kill you?"

"Steven, please can you help me or not?"

"Of course I will. Do you want to go now?"

"I don't want to get you in trouble with Donna. But my boss is her boss' boss...if that helps. I’ll ask him to pull rank.”

You and Steven took the train back to your building. Although you were half tempted to request Jake's Uber, Steven quickly dismissed that notion without sounding rude.

He let you in the building and you found the super, letting him know you "lost" your key. The super seemed willing to let you in, but warned you not to let it happen again.

As you exited the lift, you carefully looked for any sign of your boyfriend.

"What if he's home?" Steven whispered. "How will you know?

"I guess we just have to take that chance."

The super unlocked your door and you tiptoed inside with Steven behind you. The place seemed to be empty, thank god.

Darting to your bedroom, you recovered the packed luggage your jerk boyfriend tossed aside last night. You rushed to your safe to collect some important documents, working as quickly as you could manage. You made it out the door, not caring that you left it unlocked, dragging your luggage and almost making it around the corner when your heart stopped at the sound of your boyfriend shouting, "Hey!"

You and Steven exchanged looks before he grabbed your hand and your luggage. "Quickly! The stairs."

Trusting his lead, you ran, making your way to his flat, several floors up, before your boyfriend could follow, or figure out what floor you ended up on.

Steven ushered you into his flat, bolting the door as the two of you panted erratically from your exertion.

"Thank you," you gasped, reaching for your baggage. Finally getting a good look around, you couldn't believe how different Steven's flat looked from yours. His was on the top floor, in what appeared to be a loft, or converted old attic. The roof was steeply pitched with skylights offering more natural light than just the windows.

More than a dozen bookshelves burst with multicolored, worn paperbacks and gorgeous hardbacks. Ancient Egyptian artifacts, maps and souvenirs littered his cluttered desk and shelves. And in the middle of it all sat a bright aquarium with three plump goldfish.

You felt as if you stepped through a portal into another world. How could this place be in your building?

"Steven, your place is..."

"Bit of a mess, yeah? Sorry. Who's the biggest hoarder around? Me." He blushed, pointing to himself.

"No, it's wonderful. It's so different than my flat. It's like an old library."

He smiled, emboldened by your compliment. "You like to read?"

"Not this much, but yes. I do. I like the skylights." You locked eyes with him. "It's really soothing here." Reaching for his arm, you squeezed gently. "Thank you for helping me."

"Anytime." The crinkles around his warm eyes reminded you of Jake. It occured to you then, that Jake had also reminded you of Steven.

"Cuppa tea?" He asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

"Sure," you shrugged, following him. "I'll help."

The two of you worked quietly for a moment, when you asked him if he had a brother.

He swallowed hard. "I did...long time ago. He passed away."

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry, Steven." God, what an idiot you were. "I just...you reminded me of someone and I just thought, maybe... I'm really sorry."

"'Salright. You didn't know."

The two of you prepped the tea, boiling the kettle before steeping the leaves.

"This is his jacket, actually," you finally continued. "I forgot to give it back to him after he gave me a cab ride. Or...Uber, actually. He uses a vintage cab as his Uber car."

Steven almost dropped the cup and saucer he was holding. "That so?"

"Yeah, he helped me last night. Like I said, I forgot to give him back his jacket. He was kind, and when he smiled...he reminded me of you."

"O-of me?" Steven cleared his throat.

"Yeah." You shrugged. "Anyway, I'm sorry about the brother thing, but I just wondered. He had like this 1980s mustache though."

Steven, who had just brought a sip of tea to his lips spat it right back into his teacup, coughing a few times. "You're not serious. A silly little tache?"

You giggled. "Yes. I told him it was dashing. He wore it well. But he reminded me of you somehow. American lad though. Thick accent."

"Mmm," Steven nodded, cleaning up the mess he'd made. "I'm happy Jake was able to help you."

Your eyes went wide. "I didn't tell you his name."

Steven's mouth dropped open. "Right. I actually know him. Flat cap? Mustache?" He pointed at you. "Leather jacket, cab?"

"Oh," you gasped, smiling. "Don't you think you guys could be related?"

Pressing his lips together, Steven answered diplomatically. "Never really thought about it exactly like that, but...yes, I suppose so."

He paused for a moment before growing more serious. "So what's going on with your boyfriend? Or, ex-boyfriend, I hope."

"Yes, definitely," you assured him, attempting to explain what you'd gone through lately and how you suspected your boyfriend of working for a crime boss of some sort.

"As much as I love this flat, I'm even scared for you to live in this shit hole building with him, Steven. I think he's really dangerous."

As if waiting for his cue, your boyfriend pounded on Steven's front door, demanding, in foul language, to be let in.

"Do not open that," you warned him, but it was too late. His hunched shoulders squared up, chiseled jaw clenching. A deep wrinkle appeared between dark eyebrows as the typical twinkle in his eye went cold.

"Steven, no, don't!" You watched in horror as he yanked open the door, grabbed your boyfriend by the collar and dragged him inside. Kicking the door shut with one foot, he slammed the taller man against the wall, nostrils flaring as his eyes flashed.

Your boyfriend shouted an insulting protest, but with one, precise jab to his throat, he was rendered speechless and left gasping for air.

"Listen to me, asshole," Steven spat, but his voice sounded entirely different. It came out as a growl. And...American.

It couldn't be. Jake? But it didn't sound like him either.

"You're never touching anyone again," he went on, menacingly. “You're never coming back here again. You're moving out. Right now." He pointed to you with one hand. "Lose their number."

Your boyfriend raged, struggling against Steven's powerful, one-handed grip, but he still couldn't speak.

"You think your boss will protect you?" He taunted. "Your boss is a pussy. He's already dead. And you're next." Roughly releasing him, he motioned him out the door condescendingly. "Better run."

With a hopeless glance your way, he was gone.

Steven's head dropped as he waited for your reaction.

You finally whispered his name, inching closer. "Are you American? I don't understand."

Finally meeting your eyes, he answered, "I'm Marc. I'll let Steven explain."

Shoulders hunched and hands drawn to his chest, Steven came back to you, fidgeting uncertainly. "Bit of a long story. Want that tea now?"

Then he explained how you'd spent the entire night with one man, occasionally fielding questions like, "wait, you're the white mummy man?" And, "wait...you're Jake?"

Steven laughed sheepishly. "In a manner of speaking."

"Oh good, I can give you your jacket back. Wait - where's your mustache?"

The thought of Jake wearing a fake mustache was so hilariously endearing to you.

Steven let you take a nap on his couch and use his washroom to freshen up. Later, he ordered takeaway for an early supper. The two of you talked, trying to come up with plan to help you move on with your life.

"I know this is weird to say at a time like this, but...I've always had a little bit of a crush on you."

"On me?" Steven almost choked on his food. "I never knew."

"It's stupid, really. Just ignore me."

"Not at all. But can I ask you a question? Why did you stay with that plonker?"

You shrugged helplessly, shaking your head. "I guess I never knew there was anything better."

Angstember Masterlist || Moon Knight Masterlist || Main Masterlist

[marauroon]

hello !!! can i request a right person, wrong time with siri? maybe they broke up because of the war... and the reason is because siri doesn't want to put the reader into danger and then they meet again, all grown up and they still have feelings for each other and Siri has to grovel to win reader back again? And it ends with a happy ending (please) (Siri was the one who broke the relationship and reader was really hurt) it's very long yet vauge 😅

A CALL TO ARMS — S.BLACK

sirius black was the love of your life, and you were his. but sometimes higher priorities—and deep-seeded anxiety—can get in the way. but the invisible string of fate always brings people back together.

cw — fem!reader, details of the first wizard of war, reader and sirius have a messy and complicated relationship, harsh arguments, character death mentions, happy ending

sirius black x reader || hurt/comfort || 6.2k || requests open!!

a/n — let’s just pretend sirius doesn’t get avada’d like three weeks after this fic ends

The war put a strain on everybody. Some people had to leave their families to join the fight, some had to hide away to protect themselves from the Death Eaters.

Some didn’t have a family, anyone to worry about them coming home at the end of the day.

They threw themselves into it the hardest.

Then there was you and Sirius, a pair of outcasts who found solitude in each other. A pair who paid no greater devotion than protecting the people that you cared about from the ravages of Voldemort’s uprising.

You were barely eighteen when you both joined the Order, fresh out of Hogwarts and straight into the line of fire after the group had been offered a spot in Voldemort’s army and refused, leaving every one of you with a target on your back.

By the time you were twenty it almost seemed fruitless, with James and Lily being sent into hiding to protect them and their son under Dumbledore’s direct orders under fear for their continued safety and a Fidelius Charm placed over them to keep them safe. Sirius denied being their secret keeper with the explanation of it being too obvious a choice. What a mistake that was.

Then order members started dying.

And it all began to fall apart.

The brass framed picture in the entrance of the Black family home offered Sirius no empathy as he escaped the bitterness that October was serving him, the laughing faces of his friends and self-proclaimed family only serving to make his already dwindling morale dampen further.

Twenty-two people in the picture. And how many remained? Fourteen. In the span of five months.

It was Dorcus and Marlene that really did him over, and he could barely so much as glance in the direction of their hopeful smiles without feeling like he was going to throw up.

The trudging of his feet up the wooden stairs was proof enough of his arrival for any present members of the Order to hear, too fatigued and all together bleak at the continued state he was living in to announce his presence verbally.

“Sirius, sweetheart, you’re home thank goodness,” Not even the warmth of your arms around him or the relief in your voice as you pulled his head into your shoulder could satiate him anymore.

You shouldn’t have to be relieved that he walked through the door.

You shouldn’t have to hug him like it’s your final goodbye every time he leaves.

Every time you leave.

You didn’t deserve that. And neither did he.

“Godric you’re freezing, come and sit down,” You pull Sirius into his childhood bedroom with all of the care of a feather floating on a pool of water, squeezing his hands in yours like you’re trying to transfer your own heat to him.

He follows you with no real resistance, though he doesn’t make any move by himself, and you have to push his shoulders down to get him to sit in front of the lit fireplace that would hopefully quell the chill echoing across his skin.

You help him remove his coat with a sigh, dark frown lines marking your features as you take a seat beside him and rest the side of your head against his shoulder, your hand gently tracing over his to capture his palm in your own. He doesn’t return the small squeeze of your fingers.

You can’t blame him for being so dismal, the situation was something that nobody could make it through without a gargantuan crack in their emotional shield, but seeing Sirius display his almost funereal sentiment so fervently without so much as a hint of a mask was devastating.

Displaying even the tiniest glimmer of hopefulness was what allowed the Order to survive for so long, and Sirius couldn’t even muster that.

“Harry said his first word today,” You try to keep the conversation positive, ignore the downfall of everything around you and keep focusing on the small wins. “Dada of course, apparently Lily was pretty miffed,” You punctuate your sentence with a small laugh, although it’s more pathetic than genuine and even you can tell you’re doing a horrible job of trying to uplift Sirius’ spirit.

“They sent over a picture, Remus has it if you’d like to see—”

“Just stop.” Sirius shakes his head sharply, pulling his hand from yours and standing with his back to you.

“Sirius—”

“I don’t know why you keep trying to pretend that everything’s okay, it’s not. Our friends are dying and you’re acting like its completely fine.” There’s more malice in his voice than he’s intending, and logically you know that he doesn’t really mean to get so angry at you. It wasn’t you that was the problem, it was the world in which you were living.

But logic can often times get overridden by other facets.

“I am trying to stop anyone else from dying.” Your words are more desperate than harsh, and they’re not laced in anger like Sirius’ are, but they carry just the same amount of conviction. “If we lose hope then we may as well just hand ourselves over…”

There’s a stuttered exhale as you trail off, and Sirius swears he hears your voice crack as you try to take his hand in yours again. “I can’t bear to see you like this…”

“You should leave the Order.”

You’re almost not sure you heard him.

“What?”

“You don’t belong here, you’re not fit for this,” He sounds almost resigned, and his shoulders drop just enough that you’re not sure he really believes what he’s saying. “You should leave before you get hurt.”

There’s a moment where all you can really do is let out a breath of astonishment, and then there’s an overwhelming need to defend yourself against Sirius’ accusation. “I am perfectly fit for this, Dumbledore agreed that—”

“Well I don’t agree with it!” He cuts you off harshly, turning around so that you can see the anguish that’s drenching his features. “People are dying, our friends are dying, and you are on the goddamn list of whose next.”

He takes your upper arms in his hand and shakes you like it’s going to make you see his point, practically shouting at you as he desperately tries to get you to see his point of view. “You are a brilliant witch, and you are in so much danger that it makes me want to rip my heart out so I don’t have to worry about you any more—”

His rant doesn’t stop once his hands halt, and they stay gripped uncomfortably tight around your biceps to the point where you’re sure it’ll bruise. “Dorcus died because she was brilliant, Marlene died because her father was a muggle, you are like the two of them wrapped up in a package practically serving yourself up to the Death Eaters every time you step out of this goddamn house and I cannot take it anymore.”

Sirius practically pants as his yelling comes to a halt, and he almost immediately regrets getting riled up as he sees the reflection of the fireplace in your glassed over eyes.

“I love you. I love you so much and I can’t live like this anymore.” His hands move from your arms to cup the sides of your face, and you flinch at the contact like you’re afraid he’s going to hurt you.

It breaks Sirius’ heart.

“The Order is falling apart love… I don’t want you to be here when it collapses,”

You pull his hands from your face with yours at his wrists, shaking your head as you blink through clouds of tears. “I’m not leaving the Order, Sirius. You really think I would abandon my friends like that? My family? You?”

“Then I’ll make one of the hard choices for you,” Sirius lets his hands fall to his sides on your prompting, taking a step back from you to hide them in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“What—” There’s nothing but absolute betrayal written across your face, and Sirius almost breaks down immediately. “Sirius—”

“If you want to stay here and watch shit hit the fan then be my guest, but I will not put myself through watching your downfall.” He doesn’t give you the courtesy of replying before opening and slamming the door behind him as he leaves, but you’re not sure you’d be able to articulate anything even if he did, your only response being the start of a sob that echoes off of the empty walls and back into your ears to amplify your own anguish.

You move your belongings out of his room that same evening, taking refuge under Remus’ open arms as you cried yourself into an uneasy slumber, so emotionally exhausted that you could barely formulate any sense of coherency.

Lily and James died two days later.

The news hit you like a truck when Dumbledore relayed it to you, and whilst most of the Order were left in a blanket of shock, Sirius took off in a rage before he could even finish his sentence.

It was enough for you to push the grief aside to not cost you any more.

“Sirius wait—” You weave your way through the others and past Dumbledore to rush after him, the first words either of you had spoken in the other’s direction since the argument. “Where on earth do you think you’re going the Death Eaters might still be there—”

“I hope they are.” Sirius’ tone drips with venom as he pulls his motorcycle helmet from the coat rack at the front door, and you just barely catch his wrist before he has the chance to leave.

“You’re going on a suicide mission—”

“They murdered my brother, I have nothing to lose.” He again leaves the conversation with a slammed door, and you don’t know whether the possibility of his death or the fact that he’d seemingly accepted it hurt you more.

He had nothing to lose.

It was the biggest insult he could’ve possibly left you with.

And it’s all he did leave you with.

For twelve years.

You grieved the loss of Sirius like you did James and Lily, like he too had entered into an early grave of which he would never return. Azkaban may as well have been.

You were angry at first, disgustingly loathing the thought of what those twelve poor muggles had to endure as their final moments. You were less empathetic towards Peter’s fate, although your grief for him was replaced with a deep-seeded betrayal that sunk into your muscles all the same.

Then it settled into an uneven weight in the bottom of your chest, something that you carried with you from that point onward.

You moved out of England soon after, with nothing but a silent vow to Remus that if Voldemort were to ever return, that you’d be there, a final standing against the allegiance that stole your life from you.

You couldn’t stay there anymore, every street of London reminded you of him, of them, of all the people that you lost and how the prime years of your young adulthood were unceremoniously ripped from you under the false belief that you could actually make a difference.

As weeks turned into months, and then into years, there were days that passed where you didn’t think of what happened, of how your previous life had fallen apart and left you as a shell of yourself, and eventually, you managed to pick up the pieces and live your life like it hadn’t happened.

Apart from a single shard of your heart that had lodged itself at 12 Grimmauld Place, underneath the black silk sheets you and Sirius once shared.

You were thirty three when a letter from R.J.Lupin was sent through the letterbox of your house, and it was like those twelve years of growth and acceptance disappeared in an instant.

—

‘I hope this letter finds you well, I know I promised to contact you only for something of the upmost urgence regarding the resurgence of you know who, but I believe this is appropriately important.

Wormtail is alive. He was the one who caused those muggles to die without reason. Which leaves no question of Padfoot’s innocence.

I don’t know if you have kept up with the wizarding news, but he escaped from Azkaban, and is in a safe and secure location known only by the Order.

I understand if this news is too much for you to digest, but he has asked me personally for your consideration in returning to the place where everything began.

Yours sincerely,

R.J.Lupin’

—

The aftermath of your reading was a mess of shallow breaths and an elevated heart rate.

Panic.

You hadn’t felt so horrible since the day that James and Lily had died, the day one of your closest friends betrayed you and the love of your life was taken away presumably to never be seen again.

And now he was just out there? You were just adjusting to living without him, and now he was being thrust back into your life by his own doing.

He threw you away right before your house of cards toppled, and now he was trying to worm his way back into your life?

It took you almost three weeks of staring at the sheet of parchment before you made a decision, and it ended with the letter going up in flames and you watching on with a sunken expression, no tears left to cry over the man who’d ruined you.

All of those months where you’d pondered, where you’d asked yourself over and over again what might’ve happened if you’d have just not spoken to Sirius that day, if you’d just let him rest like he’d obviously wanted rather than try pathetically to lift his mood.

If it might’ve meant he would regard you as something to live for and stop him from blindly running off to avenge James and Lily without a second thought.

All of it went straight down the drain. Because you could have him back if you wanted. But you didn’t. You didn’t want to go back and see him again because the minute his name invaded your mind all you could think about was that god awful argument and it’s aftermath.

And it ripped you apart every single time.

—

“She’s not coming Pads…” Remus’ hand on Sirius’ shoulder was almost apprehensive as he gave it a soft squeeze.

It was almost three months of having to watch Sirius treat the front door like it was his lifeline, his head turning at the smallest creak of the wood in the fruitless hope that when it opened you would be on the other side.

“I know…” Sirius lets out a small, pathetic laugh as he rakes his fingers through his hair, his facade of indifference threatening to break with every breath he took. “Can’t blame me for trying though right?” His voice betrays his devastation, tone wavering and quiet, cracking when he tries to push it to sound more convicting.

“Pads…”

“I’m fine,” Sirius shakes his head with a dismissive hand, clearing his throat and blinking away the starts of tears from the corners of his eyes. “I’m gonna go get some sleep, gonna need all I can get if we’re gonna fight these sons of bitches hey?” Sirius nudges Remus with his elbow as he plays a characature of his former self, although it’s poorly executed at best.

“Yeah…” Remus consciously suppresses a sympathetic sigh that tries to escape his mouth, pressing his lips together. “Goodnight Pads,”

“G’night Moony,”

—

There’s eighteen months of radio silence before another letter is slotted through your door, and you have half the mind to burn it on sight when the familiar red seal is left face up on your patio tiling, but the handwriting on the back wasn’t Remus’, and it was definitely not Sirius’ either.

The scrawl of your address was almost unmistakably Dumbledore’s, and you were left in an emotional state of uneven limbo as you debated why he of all people would be personally sending you a letter.

Logically, you already knew the reason, but your brain chose to ignore that logic as you ripped the envelope open, only for that denial to be thrown right back at your face once the seal of the Order inked itself into the folded parchment.

You didn’t even need to read the letter to know what was inside it.

Three words.

Invitatio ad arma.

A call to arms.

You barely remember packing your bags, leaving the sense of normalcy you’d built over the past fourteen years to throw yourself back into the line of fire and more devastatingly, right back to Sirius Black.

The train ride to England almost felt like a fever dream, your body left in a state of dissociation where you couldn’t discern whether your actions were real or just a part of some vivid nightmare that you couldn’t wake from no matter how much you tossed and turned.

And by the time you reached the front door of number 12 Grimmauld Place it felt like you were right back where you started, just barely twenty one thrust into a war that could leave you in your grave at any unfortunate minute.

It felt almost foreign to you as you entered, the hallways that once proved to be your substitute home reduced to unfamiliar sights covered in dust and peeling wallpaper. There was no brass lamps to warm the sight, no picture of your closest friends on the wall, not even the mirror that had been hung beside the door had survived, reduced to a half shattered mess that hadn’t been replaced under higher priorities.

“Oh—” The slightly surprised sentiment draws you away from your almost depressing nostalgia, drawn instead towards an almost perfect capture of teenage James Potter, down to the slanted circular glasses sat over his nose bridge.

It’s enough for you to genuinely consider for a second that you’d actually stepped back in time, right into your graduation year when you were all so young and full of hope.

But it couldn’t be James. As much as your heart desperately wished it was.

“You’re another member of the original Order of the Phoenix right?” The boy takes a few steps towards you, wonder still lingering in his eyes despite the film of knowledge that cloud them. Knowledge of just how unfortunately dark the world actually is. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m—”

”Harry…” Your interruption is barely more than a breath of air as you take in the sight of one of your closest friend’s child, a child that he never got to see grow into an almost perfect replica of himself. “You look just like your father…”

There’s a mix of shock and a small amount of sadness in his expression at your statement, and it’s enough for the glimpses of Lily to shine through in his demeanour. “Thank you,”

It’s enough for your eyes to well with tears, and you blink them away with a small clearing of your throat to regain your composure in front of the boy. He didn’t need to see you cry over the fact that he looked like one of your dead friends with the personality of another. That wasn’t fair.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Harry, properly,” You extend your hand almost hesitantly as you introduce yourself, and he takes it graciously in his own with a small sympathetic smile. Being proxy comforted by a teenager, how pathetic.

“It’s nice to meet you too, my parents have good friends,” You give the boy a small nod with a small, sad smile, and he mirrors it himself in turn.

“I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve any of this,” You let your hand rest on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly in a terrible attempt at consoling the sadness riddling his expression. “You’re just a boy Harry,”

“I know,” He gives a small sigh and a more confident smile, sympathy lingering in the creases of his cheeks in a perfectly Lily fashion. “I’m sorry for your loss too, I know they probably meant a great deal to you,”

“They still do, that’s why I’m here,”

“Thank you,” He sounds more confident in his thanks this time, more determined, and the remnants of his parents continue to show on full display as his focus returns to the reason you’d arrived here in the first place. “We’re about to sit down for dinner, join us?”

“I’ll be there shortly,” You give Harry a small nod and another small squeeze of his shoulder before excusing yourself up the stairs to leave your belongings.

—

“Good evening everyone,” Your voice is taught and awkwardly flat as you push open the door to the dining room, and you stand there with your hands wrung together behind your back as your eyes flicker over the room.

There are so many people that the table is almost entirely too crowded, and a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces in your presence, although those who do recognise you leave their seats almost immediately to greet you properly.

“It’s good to see you,” Remus reaches you first, wrapping you in a secure hug that you happily return with your own.

“It’s good to see you too, Remus, it’s been too long,”

“Welcome back, we need all of the human shields we can get,” Mad Eye’s reuinionative statement is much less heart felt, but you give him a small laugh and a “Thank you,” nonetheless.

Then there was Sirius. Stood at his chair, not daring to walk into your little bubble under fear of whatever consequences that might come from it.

He looked almost as you remembered him, but he was leaner, more gaunt, his hair more unruly and his skin even more paper-white than the almost impossibly pale complexion of his teenage years.

He was still Sirius, but he was different, and it took less than half a second of eye contact for him to realise that you were different too.

“Welcome back,” His voice is hesitant, almost catching in his throat as his brain catches up to the fact that you’re stood in front of him, less than ten feet away after all of those years he’d spent desperately dreaming of what it would feel like to have you in his arms again.

Now you were here. And you were a stranger.

“Thank you,”

Dinner progresses pretty much how you expected, a mix of awkwardly introducing yourself to the Order’s new members and horrifically failing at avoiding eye contact with Sirius from across the table.

Then the topic of interest moves to the Order’s plans, and things seem to spin into a downwards spiral all too quickly.

“We don’t have enough members to reliably be able to pull this off,” The argument was entirely valid from a logical standpoint, a weakness that quite a few of the Order seemed to have choice opinions about.

“Yeah well we’re not getting any new members are we?” Sirius leans back in his chair exasperatedly. “With the way Fudge is portraying Dumbledore and the lack of official credibility, we’re on our own here, there’s no use in waiting around,”

“I’m inclined to agree, we all know you know who isn’t going to waste any time,

“It’s reckless,” You shake your head with furrowed eyebrows. “We not ready to face something like that head on.”

“We’re never going to be ready,” Sirius shakes his head with a sigh. “We have to take action before he has the chance to build himself back to where he was all those years ago.”

“Sirius is right, we need to do something,” Sirius gestures towards Harry’s response like it’s the final nail in the coffin against your reasoning.

“Harry, sweetheart, I appreciate your enthusiasm but you don’t know the extent of what we’re dealing with,” Your voice is as gentle as it is assertive, not wanting to put him down too much but also wanting to make sure he understood the true extent of what was going on.

“He killed my friend in front of me—”

“And he’s killed dozens of ours,” You shake your head softly but firmly. “Jumping in without a plan is only going to make things worse, trust me.”

He seems more than a little shot down, but he gives you a small nod of understanding nonetheless as he backs down from his standing.

Sirius doesn’t pay you the same mind.

“So you’re suggesting we just wait in hiding for what, forever? We need to act,”

“The last time you ‘acted’, Sirius, you spent twelve years in Azkaban for it.” Your rebuttal holds none of the softness that was present when you were talking to Harry, and you can see it eroding the calcified shield behind Sirius’s eyes.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Sirius presses his teeth together to keep himself from raising his voice, his back straightening alongside his defensiveness. “At least I’m trying to do something, if you don’t want to contribute maybe you shouldn’t be a part of the Order at all,”

“I will not have this argument with you again Sirius!” His chastation seems to finally get under your skin as you rise yourself from your chair with your hands on the dining table, ignorantly ignoring the uncomfortable gazes of everyone else present as you’re forced back into that evening fourteen years go all over again.

“Okay, I think it’s time we called it a night,” Remus, seemingly the only normally functioning person at the table, rises from his chair slowly, taking your shoulders in his hands to guide you away from the group and calm you down.

“Yes right you are Remus,” Molly stands up with a nod that’s almost too enthusiastic clasping her hands together. “Off to bed, all of you,”

You can practically hear the lingering exasperation in Remus’ breathing as he leads you up the stairs and into the room he was staying in, and the second he shut the door behind you you knew what you were in for.

“You need to speak to him.”

“I know,”

“Properly.”

“I know,”

You’re sure the sigh you let out echoes across the house’s first floor, and it’s enough for Remus’ eyes to shift into displaying a concerning amount of sympathy in your direction.

“He misses you, you know,” Remus takes a seat on the edge of his bed with a soft sigh. “He said the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that got him through Azkaban,”

“Yeah well he wouldn’t’ve gone there in the first place if he hadn’t’ve been such a hot-headed twat,” You wouldn’t lie that Remus’ statement didn’t hit you a little where it hurt, but the lingering anger towards Sirius’ situation was clearly still more forefront in your mind.

“It’s a carried trait in all of us ’m‘fraid,” Remus tilts his head knowingly, and you have half the mind to roll your eyes at the clear implication of what he’s saying.

But he isn’t wrong, not really.

“You know where to find him,”

There’s a small moment of silence, then a sigh. “Do I have to?”

“The longer you wait the worse it’ll be,”

Sometimes you hate how logical Remus can be.

With another sigh and a loll of your head, you reluctantly stuff your hands in your pockets and turn towards the bedroom door, muttering a soft—and only half genuine—“thanks,” in his direction as you leave.

The wooden door that barricaded you from the former love of your life felt more like steel than anything else. Tall, dark, and intimidating to the point where you couldn’t even consciously lift your hand to knock against it under the blood rushing behind your ears from how fast your heart was pounding in your ribcage.

It really shouldn’t be so scary, you’d spent weeks, months in that room when you’d originally joined the Order, yet now it felt entirely foreign to you.

Maybe it was the fact that the wood was slowly rotting away with how unkept it was. Maybe it was the knowledge of what—who—was on the other side of it. Or maybe, your mind was just so completely and utterly fucked that the idea of confronting the consequences of your own actions was more nerve-wracking than the idea of standing face to face in a death match with Voldemort himself.

You stand there staring dumbly at the door for almost two minutes, and when it opens your eyes widen like it’s a new form of magic that you’d never encountered.

Sirius halts halfway out the door, arm stretched straight with the doorknob still in hand as his face seems to go through an insurmountable number of emotions in the half-second it takes for him to realise you’re there.

You don’t say anything as you make eye-contact, head immediately ducking downward and stepping aside so that he can leave without you blocking his path, but he just stays there, staring at you like you had been the door, and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the second.

You clear your throat with a feigned cough, pursing your lips together with a muttered “excuse me,” as you turn around to leave, but Sirius catches your wrist in his hand before you even manage to take the first step.

“Wait—” He loosens his grasp almost immediately after he feels a resistance, but his eyes convey just how determined he was to keep you where you were. “Let’s talk, please?”

There’s a hint of desperation in his tone, and you almost crumble on that alone, but you manage to maintain your composure with a small shake of your head and a gentle pull of your wrist from his hand. “I don’t think it’s worth it Sirius, not anymore,”

“Don’t say that, we can fix this,” Sirius mirrors your head shake with his own. “You just need to talk to me,”

“I tried talking to you Sirius, and look where it got us,” You gesture between the two of you with exasperation in your tone.

There’s a small pause where the two of you share and almost identical mask of composure over your agony.

“It just wasn’t meant to be, that’s it,”

“That’s not true,” Sirius shakes his head again, more confidently this time, and his inky black curls bounce against his shoulders like they’re trying to torment you with the memories of your fingers raking through them. “We can fix this, us, we just have to try,”

“I don’t want to argue with you anymore,” You lower your gaze away from his so you don’t have to see the heartbreak in his irises. “Especially not over this…”

“Then don’t, let’s work this out properly, like adults,” He reaches out his hand cautiously towards yours, and you flinch away as your fingers make contact. “Please,”

“Sirius…”

“I’m sorry.” Sirius lets out a heavy, pathetic breath as he retreats his hand to run it through his hair. “I am so sorry. I made the biggest mistake of my life and it cost me the person that I love more than life and I have suffered the consequences of it every day for the last fourteen years.”

Sirius lets his hands fall to his side with a start, voice beginning to tremble under the strain of his emotions as he desperately tries to voice everything that he’d bottled up over the last decade and a half before you leave him to rot in his own depression again. “I spent every hour in Azkaban imagining what it would be like to see you again, to hear your voice, to hold you and tell you that you’re the one thing in this goddamn hell that we live in that actually makes anything worth fighting for,”

The breaths between his words are shallow and weak, and your expression starts to blur as his eyes glass over with the beginnings of tears. “I love you so much, and I’m so— sorry that you had to live through everything I forced on you and I just—“ He takes a sharp, stuttering breath in. “—I need you to know that I will spend the rest of my life devoted to you, to correcting what I’ve done even if you don’t so much as spare me a glance,”

He’s not sure when the tears started running over his eyelids, but he can feel them fall in drops to dapple the ivory skin of his fingers. “And if I die tomorrow, I’ll take whatever punishment hell has to give me so that you can rest easy,”

The end of his rant is echoed by laboured breathing and a horrific attempt at muffling a sob that leaves his throat, bouncing off the walls of the hallway to settle into your muscles as you stand stationary in an astonished silence.

You’re not sure what to say. You’re not sure there’s anything you can say. How on earth are you supposed to respond to something like that? Something so desperate and raw and real?

Sirius Black, after fourteen years of radio silence, still loved you like you’d never parted.

“Sirius…”

And you’d be absolutely damned if you weren’t the same.

“I forgive you…”

It’s like a tsunami of relief ravages Sirius’ body at your words, barely a whisper escaping your mouth but invading his ear canals like a nuclear explosion, and it’s enough for that sliver of composure remaining to erode under the waves of his tears until he’s sobbing into his hands, hunched over with trembling shoulders as he lets everything go all at once.

“I’m so sorry—“

His final apology is doused in so much heartbreak it might as well rip your heart right out of your chest, and your at his side almost immediately, gently pulling his hand from his face to pull his head into your shoulder with a soft shush of consolation.

He clings to you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to, tears damping the shoulder of your shirt and his arms wrapped so tightly around your torso you’re not sure he intends to ever let go. You’re not sure you’d complain if he didn’t.

That familiar musky scent of cigarettes and faux leather hits your nose once he’s close enough, and that’s where you break too, silent tears streaming down your face as you bury your nose in his hair.

You’re eternally grateful that everyone on this floor of the house is already asleep, either that or just polite enough not to interrupt the two of you out in the hallway, because the state the both of you were in was definitely not meant to be seen by other people.

A desolate, broken side to the two of you only trusted in the company of the other.

“Stay with me tonight, please…” His plea is barely more than a mutter against your shoulder, and you’re sure he wouldn’t even have to ask to know what your answer would be.

And so you find yourself back where you started, tangled up underneath the silky black sheets of Sirius’ bed in the warmth of his embrace, that tiny shard of your heart finally recovered and back in it’s rightful place.

Right where you belong.

[dyns33]

Family respect

Alfie and his Shelby wife are back for more adventures.

"He's back." was the first thing Ada said to her when she picked up the phone, and that was enough for Y/N to understand who she was talking about.

If she had hardly known her mother, who died when she was young, she had not really known her father well either, while he was still alive.

The relationship between Arthur Shelby Sr. and his family had always been complicated. Long before Y/N was found by Polly when she was still a child, abandoned in an orphanage.

It had been luck or fate that her father quickly spoke of her in a letter sent to his sister, writing that he had made a little mistake during a trip. That was what he named Y/N, his little mistake.

The rest of Shelby didn't see her that way. They had adored her from the moment they saw the girl, welcoming her as if she had always been there, as if they had the same mother, and protecting her against this drunken and tyrannical father.

There was still respect for the elders. This notion was important to the romani, and some therefore found it difficult to completely rebel against the man despite his many faults.

This was especially difficult for Arthur. He admired him when he was younger, and even though he often stood up for his brothers and sisters, he blindly followed him in all his dangerous plans.

He had often gotten into trouble because of their father. Tommy was very angry with him for that.

This naivety was undoubtedly one of the reasons why it was not Arthur who managed the family affairs even though he was the oldest.

He never complained about it. As he followed their father, he followed Thomas without question, recognizing that his little brother was smarter, more stubborn, better at business and discussion.

But the few times their father had passed through Birmingham again, he had criticized this absurd hierarchy, and even if Arthur eventually bowed his head to Tommy, there were always several days when he was at their father's side, ready to believe that he had changed.

“Where is Thomas ?” Y/N asked her sister, because she didn't want to hear more about their father at the moment.

"Probably in one of the neighboring farms, with horses, to calm down and stop himself from shooting someone between the eyes."

"And the others ?"

"Polly is talking to them in the kitchen. She thinks dad wants something. Money probably. He'll leave quickly when he gets what he's looking for. But I'm afraid of what will happen in the meantime."

"I'll take care of it. I'll find Arthur." Y/N promised, because absolutely anything could happen to Arthur Senior, no one would be sad, but leaving her brother was out of the question.

Ollie asked nothing when she ordered him to send his best men to look for her older brother, and to watch what he was doing. He just nodded, calling her "Madam Solomons" with great respect.

According to Alfie, she had seduced the poor boy, as well as many of his employees, the residents of Candem, and even the dog.

"Before, Cyril sat with me by the fire. Now he moans by the door until you come home. Where have you been, love ?"

“You know very well where I was.”

"Damn right. With Tommy, dear Tommy. Tell me, treacle, why are my men outside a bar instead of working, uh ? Because when I asked Ollie, he just shrugged his shoulders, saying that those were the orders, but I didn’t give those orders. Remind me who’s in charge here ?”

“Cyril.”

"Very funny, love. Hilarious. Why are my men following this crazy dog who serves as your brother ?"

Of course Y/N could have told him. It would have been simple, and Alfie would have sighed and muttered insults, because the whole thing was nonsense and he didn't really care because it wasn't his family.

Since it wasn't his family, she decided there was no need for him to know the details.

There was no need for him to hear about her father.

So she simply replied that Arthur was in trouble, which wasn't a lie, and that she was just checking to make sure he wasn't going to end up in prison, or worse.

If he noticed that she was hiding something, her husband accepted it, growling when he saw that she was petting the dog before giving him attention.

Several days passed, and Arthur Shelby Sr did not leave. The whole community was nervous, which made the London underground scene much more dangerous than usual.

So Y/N went by herself to look for her brother in the tenth pub he had visited this week, finding him alone at the counter while their father was talking with some men in another room.

"Little sis ! In my arms !" shouted the eldest cheerfully, hugging her tenderly.

“Come home with me.”

"I can't. Dad needs me for a case. A big thing."

"You know very well how this is going to end. It always ends the same way."

"You sound like Tommy… He's changed this time. He wants to make amends, he has the right for a chance."

"He got more chances than Judas got silver coins, Arthur. Please."

"Y/N ? Is that you ? You grew up, I almost didn't recognize you ! Beautiful. When I think that I saw you as a mistake, I was wrong, right, son ? A charming girl, all men would want her."

In that moment, she saw in her brother's eyes that he knew he had a choice. He could defend her, saying that no one talked about his little sister like that, not even their father. He could also keep quiet, nodding his head and not talking about her marriage.

But he had drunk a lot, and despite all this time he still had resentment towards Alfie, so he opened his stupid mouth.

“She married a Jew.”

Their father turned to Arthur with a huge frozen smile, waiting for a follow-up to this joke, before looking at Y/N again with a darker look, understanding that he was serious.

"… A Jew ? You married a pompous old cheapskate ?"

"Arthur, come home with me." Y/N insisted, trying to ignore everything around her brother.

"He's not just pompous, he's crazy. And a coward. And mean. He can't be trusted. I'm sure he's putting on an act to get to us, holding Y/N hostage."

"Well said, son. It's quite possible that's what happening. They know how to play, those dirty rats."

"Arthur, come home with me."

"I knew right away he was evil. Even before he killed Billy and betrayed us. I don't know why Tommy agreed to work with him again, or give him our sister's hand."

"Thomas has always been less clever than you. They're a bit sodomite, you know ? He was able to seduce several of us for sure."

"No… No, that bastard son of a bitch, I'll kill him."

"Arthur, insult my husband once more and you will never see me again."

The threat caught her brother's attention for a second, like the tears in her eyes, but their father continued to criticize Alfie, and as always Arthur followed him blindly, considering that nothing could happen to him if he imitated his father.

A hand then rested on her shoulder, while she hesitated between crying and hitting him. Alfie's smile was quick, only for her, as he held her close, watching the two Arthurs who were surprised to see him.

Y/N thought he would say something, but he only placed a kiss on her forehead, leading her outside, to the car that took them home.

"… I'm sorry."

"Why, treacle ? Because your father is an asshole and your brother is a moron ? I don't see how this is your fault."

“I’m still sorry.”

"Nothing I haven't already heard. I promise I've never slept with Tommy."

"You are not funny." she whispered as she sobbed, letting the tension leave her body. He muttered that she was probably right as he took her in his arms, not knowing what to do to comfort her.

It was not easy to lose a family member. Y/N had been close to all of her siblings, but Arthur had always been there for her, like she had always been there for him, standing up for him, respecting his ideas, making sure he was okay.

She loved him, but she also loved her husband, and she could not tolerate him being insulted like this. If she said she wouldn't talk to him anymore, then she wouldn't talk to him anymore.

So it was a shock to find him in the middle of her living room the next day, holding his cap with two hands, looking miserable and embarrassed. Y/N almost told him to leave, before seeing Alfie standing in the corner, tapping the ground with his cane.

"Well, come on, mate. The lady is waiting."

"… I'm sorry, lil sis."

“Where is father ?”

"In prison, I think. He organized bets, the coppers caught him. They would have had me if… I mean if…"

"If I hadn't saved his sorry ass." Alfie translated, raising his eyebrows when Arthur growled at him. "Maybe I should have left him, he made you cry after all and I didn't like it."

"Y/N… I'm sorry. Your husband is a cunt, but… But he's not that bad, I think. I see that you're happy and he treats you well. I want you happy. I'll try… If he doesn't deserve it, I won't knock his teeth out."

"Mazel tov ! I'll buy you a drink, brother-in-law, but I don't drink and I want you to leave. Well, come one. Out."

Her husband still gave Arthur time to hug his sister, who accepted his apologies on the condition that he finally stopped following their father in his usual bullshit.

To avoid any problems, she only notice out loud after he had left that he had not winced when Alfie called him "brother-in-law".

“Hangover, probably.”

"Or he considers you part of the family now. Normally it's Polly, Tommy, John or me who keep him from completely tripping."

"If you hadn't cried, I would have let him drown in his beer and piss, treacle."

"I wonder how the cops knew, our father is often quite secretive. He moslty ruins everything by wanting more money or insulting someone."

"Oh. Someone who looks like Ollie may or may not have called the police on orders from their boss." Alfie muttered, pouting a little.

"… Arthur will kill you if he finds out."

"He said you were a mistake. Nobody says my wife is a mistake. Would you rather he be in jail or at the bottom of the Thames ? Now I'm sleepy, love. I've been running all night to find your stupid brother, come to bed with me."

“It’s nine in the morning.”

"So what ?"

The only true thing her brother had said was that Alfie was insane, but that wasn't a bad thing. His madness was charming, tender and funny, and if one day they had children, he would be the most protective and caring father in the world.

You only had to see him with Cyril to be sure, even if he slammed the door in the dog's face to be alone for a few hours, only letting him in because he couldn't concentrate anymore. cause of the squealing.

"There you go. Before, he stayed on the ground, now he jumps in my place to press against you, while it's me who opens the door for him despite the cold and my poor back."

“Shut up Alfie and go back to sleep.”

"It is noon."

"Come here."

"Very well, damn woman. You will explain to my men why I was not at work."

Since they had all heard about Y/N's family troubles, they adored her, and were quite happy that the boss wasn't there to yell at them, no one asked Y/N why Alfie had been absent. They even gave her flowers, which greatly annoyed the King of Camden.

They didn't ask if he wanted flowers too. The Shelby sent him some gifts, bottles, money and a horse, without having to say why, and Alfie was in a weird mood for the rest of the day.

Y/N only smiled, knowing that he was lost but proud to be accepted by her family.

[for-ests]

Fine Line: Gojo Satoru x Reader

summary: friends to lovers, gojo is in love with the campus doctor, and can't hide it any longer. lovesick gojo is my favvveee<3 wc: 4.4k warnings: fluff then SMUT ^^

Once again, Gojo was in your office in the middle of the night.

"What time is it?" you asked, borderline scolded, but refrained from rolling your eyes. After every mission, he would make an excuse to find his way onto your hospital bed. And every single time, he had nothing more than minor scrapes and bruises but would always insist you look over him "just in case."

"Late, I know." He looked somewhat guilty.

"Was this curse too strong for the students again?" you teased, reaching for your gloves but not bothering to put them on. One glance at Gojo, and you knew. You just knew he was there for a different reason. The white-haired sorcerer wasn't physically hurt. He rarely ever was. But now, his excuses to see you were becoming apparent to you and others.

"You could say that." He shook his head, forcing himself to release a chuckle. He was about to cross a very fine line, one that was established the day he met you. But he was only a man, and he needed to at least try and quell the need he felt for you.

It was internal, and Gojo felt like you were one of the only people who truly saw him and took the time to listen to him. After all these years of admiring you in silence, he still couldn't come clean with it. Every time he visited you, his heart twisted with an unquenchable yearning, feeling betrayed and played by fate. He was lost in a sea of emotions, unable to make sense of it all. Despite the turmoil of his everyday life, despite the responsibility that weighed on his shoulders, he found solace in your presence. 

Would it ever go away?

You were like a beacon in the darkness of his world. Your smile illuminated the space, radiating warmth and energy that seemed to chase away the shadows that clouded his mind. Despite having the attention of any woman he could dream of, he could not tear his gaze away from you. Why couldn't he leave you alone? Why couldn't he get you out of his head?

"Y/N, look at me," he called out softly, his voice warm and inviting. It was a desperate plea to draw your attention away from your surroundings and towards the turmoil that raged within his soul.

Catching the seriousness of his tone, you froze, setting down your prep materials. Your eyes carefully rose to meet his, and you almost gasped. Gojo, the strongest man you knew, was on the verge of tears.

“Are you feeling okay?” you asked, almost getting lost in the blue of his glistening eyes. It had always been hard for you to hold his gaze for long, as the intensity of his stare made you flustered. You often wondered if he looked at anyone else like this, talked to them like this, touched them like he had you.

Breath catching in his throat, Gojo saw the subtle hint of concern on your face—it was endearing. You seemed so beautiful and so caring, and it only added to his feeling of helplessness. 

Gently, he grasped your hand and placed it over his heart, letting you feel the rapid beat that betrayed his inner turmoil.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, a hint of vulnerability in his usually confident tone. "But can you do something for me?"

“W-what?” you asked, feeling his heartbeat, which was definitely faster than usual. The fabric of his shirt bunched between your fingertips. 

Gojo continued to hold your gaze; his grip on your hand was gentle but firm. 

"Can you... just sit with me for a moment? I need your company right now," he said, slightly hoarse. “I don’t wanna leave here again without saying what I really feel…” 

“Oh, okay.” You blinked, eyebrows creased as you joined him on the hospital bed. 

Your professionalism vanished as you noticed the glassy forlornness in his beautiful blue eyes. Sitting next to him, you leaned into his embrace. 

After a moment of silence, you asked, “Did something happen?” Your finger traced the outside of his palm to try to soothe him further. God… his hands were so soft despite how large and powerful they were.

Gojo let out a deep breath as he felt you lean against him, the weight of your body against his. It was perfect. He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the comfort your presence provided. He opened his eyes again at your question and looked down at your joined hands. Friends didn’t touch each other like this, right? 

"It's...complicated," he said, his voice quiet after a moment. "I just... need a distraction from my thoughts right now. Your company is enough."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips at your comfort, one that sent a jolt of electricity through him. You had always been enough, and he had always loved you. Now, it was just impossible to ignore.

“Talking about it can be the best cure and distraction,” you whispered, faintly smiling back at him. “You know you can tell me anything, Satoru, I will never think of you differently.”

Those simple words from your lips were like a balm to his wounded soul. Gojo felt a lump form in his throat as he looked at you, a mixture of gratitude and affection filling his chest.

"You're too kind," he murmured, his voice low and heavy with emotion. "But this...this could change everything between us."

He raised his free hand and gently brushed a stray piece of hair away from your face.

You sighed blissfully in response. Just the faintest touch from him flustered you. It was so tender, and you wanted more. You always savored any physical moment you had with him. God, you were so infatuated with him, and he didn't even know it.

Gojo's eyes followed the path his finger traced across your cheek, and he couldn't help but notice your reaction. He felt a pang in his chest as he saw the way your body responded to his touch, practically melting against him. Was there a chance you felt the same?

"You're blushing," he whispered, a hint of amusement in his voice. He let his hand linger on your cheek, his thumb tracing small circles almost absentmindedly.

"How can I not when you touch me like this?" you responded breathlessly, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

Gojo's heart skipped a beat at your words, your sudden drunken response sending a shiver down his spine. He hadn't meant to affect you so much, but the sight of you so needy was an incredible feeling.

"I can't help it," he murmured, his thumb starting to trace the line of your jaw. "Your reactions are just too cute."

You felt like your heart was about to burst. He always looked so handsome, and you felt like an infatuated schoolgirl whenever he was around, whenever you two were alone. How immature of you; you were supposed to be working. But it was the best part of your day when you were tending to Gojo, which was far more often than you preferred. It also made you feel guilty. You didn't want him to get hurt, it was the last thing you ever wanted. You knew it wasn't normal for him to be touching you like this, for you to reciprocate in the same manner, as these actions crossed the boundary of just friends and coworkers. But maybe you were both more comfortable with this label, even if it pulled at your heartstrings. If Gojo had wanted you, he would have made that clear years ago, right?

Gojo was keenly aware of how you blushed and stuttered in his presence, filling him with a sense of satisfaction that he couldn't quite identify with. The power he had over you was intoxicating. But still, there was a part of him that wanted more, that wanted to cross the line you had set for yourselves.

As you sat there next to him, close enough for your thighs to touch, he found himself fighting the urge to reach out and pull you closer, to bury his face in your hair and breathe in your scent.

His compliment caused you to giggle slightly and glance away. But you didn't retreat from his embrace and only squeezed his hand a little tighter. "Will you tell me what's wrong?" you pressed again. "Why do you want me to distract you?"

Gojo's heart ached. He almost felt sick at how badly he wanted you to be his. But your insistence made it difficult to keep secrets, and refusing any of your requests felt impossible.

Still debating whether confessing was right, he hesitated momentarily before answering. "It's just... life," he finally said, his voice soft and low. "The weight of being the strongest. The pressure. The kids always looking up to me...It can be overwhelming sometimes."

"I'm sure it can be," you said, biting your lip slightly. "You often come here when you want a distraction." You glanced at the gauze and disinfection you had intended to use on his superficial wounds. "You pretend you're more hurt than you are physically. But you just want to vent to me, right?"

It was obvious, after all. Gojo could heal himself if he wanted to. You knew that, and so did everyone.

Gojo's shoulders sagged as he recognized the truth in your words. It was childish of him, possibly even cowardly. The pain he felt from battle was nothing compared to the ache in his heart whenever he was away from you.

He let out a sigh and nodded, his eyes meeting yours again. “You know me too well,” he said quietly. “But yes. I guess I just needed to talk to you. You make everything feel easier.”

"You should ask me to hang out with you more often," you chuckled. "I know we're both busy, but I can make time for you, Satoru. There's no need to pretend."

Gojo felt a pang of guilt at your words. You were right, he should have just asked you to hang out with him more often instead of resorting to these tactics.

"Yeah," he admitted, his voice soft. "I shouldn't have used my injuries as an excuse. I just...like having you around."

He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb rubbing your knuckles. "Can I ask you something?"

Frowning slightly, you wondered if he had misinterpreted your words by the expression on his face. You didn't want him to feel guilty at all, if anything, you found his visits endearing. He refused to see any doctor but you, which instilled pride in your work. It had become a joke between your coworkers and you, all betting on whether Gojo had a crush on you.

"You can ask me anything." You set your free hand on his knee. You wanted to touch more of him so badly, not under the guise of treating his minor scratches and bruises.

His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn't help but relish the feeling of your touch. Taking a deep breath, he gathered the courage to ask the question that had been on his mind for so long.

"Why... why are you always there for me? Why do you treat my wounds no matter how small? I mean... you have others to look at... but you always come to me." He looked at you, his heart thudding in his chest as he waited for your answer.

"I guess you caught me, too." You blushed, feeling bashful and somewhat embarrassed that he noticed your antics. "Maybe I want to spend whatever time I can with a busy man like yourself."

Gojo's heart fluttered as you admitted to caring for him just as much as he cared for you. He had hoped it was the case, but hearing you confirm it felt like a weight had lifted off his chest.

He chuckled softly, using both hands to hold your face, so incitingly that you didn't even think to pull away. "You know you don't have to use my injuries as an excuse to see me, right? I always want to spend time with you, no matter how busy I am."

His reply was enough for you. You understood what he meant in his repetition of your own words. It was in how he touched you, how his eyes sparkled with relief. Nervously, your eyes flickered down to his lips. He was so close, and what you craved was only one movement away. But no, you wouldn’t kiss him first. You needed to have more restraint than this. 

“Is this your way of saying you like me more than a friend?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Your question was answered in the way his breath caught in his throat, in the way his gaze trailed down to your lips and back up to your eyes. He was mesmerized by you, drawn in like a moth to a flame.

"Yes," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I do. I yearn to be near you more often than I dare to admit, I tried to resist but I can't anymore."

Gojo's heart thundered in his chest as your eyes widened in response.

“I feel the same," you said, your admission causing a shiver to run down his spine.

"You... you do?" he murmured, tilting his face a little closer to yours. He wanted to be closer to you, to feel your skin against his; holding your hand wasn’t enough. 

Your eyes flickered to Gojo’s lips again, your stare begging and pleading. The need for something more was evident. “I do.”

Suddenly, he felt emboldened by your words, his own feelings mirrored in your body language.

Gojo's breath hitched as he noticed the palpable desire in your gaze. It was physically impossible to resist any longer.

Leaning in, he closed the distance between you, his lips hovering millimeters from yours. "Say it again," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“Fuck Satoru,” you practically whined, your eyes closing, lulled by his gentle touch and the inches that teased between you. “I love you, okay?"

Gojo felt a shudder run down his spine at the sound of his name on your lips, the desperation in your voice sending a wave of heat through him. You loved him.

With a low groan, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. His hand on your cheek gently tilted your head, allowing him to claim your lips hungrily.

Moaning into the kiss, you inhaled deeply, satisfied to finally taste him, to finally give in to your desires. One of your hands reached out and gripped his bicep, drawing him closer against your own body.

Gojo deepened the kiss further, a thrill shooting through him as he felt the heat of your body even through his clothes, and it fueled his need for more.

His tongue traced your bottom lip, demanding entry to your mouth, as his other hand trailed up your hip, grasping with need. A low moan escaped him as he tasted you, feeling you submit to his tune, his body responding to your touch like a taut bowstring.

You were on the verge of shuddering, desire pooling in that oh-so-dangerous spot, the part of you that might lose all sense of control and decency. Your feelings for Gojo were intense and had been for some time. You still couldn't believe this was happening. Anything he wanted from you was his to take. Anything to make him feel better. 

One of your hands rested against his neck while the other ran through his white locks, refusing to let him go, wanting him to touch you further. Nobody else was in the office, it was just the two of you. You were so starved of affection from the one you desired the most, that you would take any moment you could get.

Gojo seemed to realize at the same time, and he couldn’t control himself as he picked you up and brought you over to rest against your desk. With one hand, he swiped the belongings off and onto the floor, gently guiding you until you were on your back, legs wrapping tightly around his waist. 

Hungrily, he kissed you again; his own body was on fire as you giggled at his erratic, desperate movements as if he couldn't get enough. It was as if he wanted to worship every part of you now that you’d given him permission.  

"Y/N," he whispered against your mouth, his voice rough with need. "I want you. More than anything. I love you too."

"T-take me..." you whimpered, staring deep into his eyes as your lab coat fell loosely around your shoulders. To see him so desperate for you, the yearning of his tone and the affection in his glacier-blue eyes was all it took for your own restraint to fade away.

An almost primal hum of approval vibrated in his throat. "Right here?" he murmured, his breath hot against your lips. "On the desk?" His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, his body pressing yours against the cold wood of the desk.

Nodding furiously at how hot this would be, you nodded to the door. "I don't want to wait any longer," you whispered seductively, reaching out to brush your delicate hands against the growing tent in Gojo's pants. "And I don't think you want to either."

Gojo let out a shaky breath at your coyness. His control was fraying quickly, and he knew this was a battle he was going to lose.

Nodding, he reached for the light switch, plunging the office into semi-darkness. He then moved to the door, locking it with a decisive click. When he turned back to you, his eyes were dark with desire.

"You're driving me crazy," he murmured, stalking back towards you. 

You spread your legs back apart, hooking them around his waist once he reached your awaiting embrace. Grasping his face, you pulled him back on top of you. "You made me wait too long for this," you teased, though still strained with a yearning he only noticed through subtle hints throughout the months, almost a year, that you’d known each other. It had been in your eyes, through quick glances, but never in your words.

Just the sound of your voice and the longing within it made him shudder. 

He pressed his bulge against your core, his hands sliding up under your shirt. "I wanted you this whole time," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "You have no idea how much I want you." His lips moved to the sensitive skin of your neck, nipping and sucking at your pulse point.

Sighing blissfully, your hands found their way back into his hair, holding him against you as if he would escape, as if this was only a dream. 

"What took you so long?" you mumbled, slightly dazed, then gasped as Gojo's fingers hooked the band of your bra. You shrugged off your lab coat, following his lead as he lifted your undershirt and bra over your head and tossing it behind him quickly before his hands reached for your breasts. The cold air swirled around your nipples and you bit down on your lip. It was shocking to finally be naked in front of the man you’d craved since the moment you met. "S-Should have made me yours a long time ago," you whispered, gazing up at him with a sudden shyness.

“Maybe I was too stupid and scared to realize before,” he practically groaned, immediately latching his mouth onto the swell of your breast, his other hand pawing gently at the other. With your nipple still pressed against his pretty pink lips, Gojo’s eyes gazed into your own. “How can I make it up to you?”

Your chuckle morphed into a moan as his tongue swirled around your chest, a devilish smirk upon his face, your reactions stimulating him further. 

“T-this is working….” you gasped, one hand steadying yourself against the desk while the other reached for his pants, beginning to tug them down. 

“I think you should be my girlfriend,” Gojo said somewhat nonchalantly as he broke away, curling his hands around your pants and shimming them down your legs. “That would make everything better-” he bent down between your spread legs and pressed his lips against your covered cunt, inhaling deeply. 

“Don’t you think?” he asked with glossy eyes and a heavy, lustful stare. “Not sure if I wanna share you.” 

“You can ask a bit more nicely…” you teased bashfully as he pulled your panties to the side. 

“Please, Y/N…. please please be my girlfriend, I promise it's worth it. I’ll give you the world, I’ll make you feel so good, better than you ever have before.” 

Though it was dim, you could see the smile on his face and sincerity in his eyes. It felt right, as it always had. 

“You promise?” Your whisper was desperate, not just for his body but also his heart. You didn’t just want him to give you the world; you wanted to share yours with him. 

His thumb ran over your protruding, bottom lip. “I promise, Y/N. I’m so in love with you, please let me show you.” 

“I love you too, Satoru.” 

And that’s when his tongue finally lapped against your slit, a groan of satisfaction vibrating against your core. How desperate he was, how sloppy, but it worked. It worked too well, and you were already coming undone from how gentle he was with your clit, the smooth circles edging you closer and closer, opening you up and preparing you for the utmost pleasure. How sexy you were, splayed across your own desk for him, just like the way you were in his dreams, when he would spend all night longing for your calming presence, fantasizing until he worked himself into an orgasm. 

You moaned and whimpered for him, because of him, and he felt his cock about to burst just from the sight of you, from tasting you.

And after your first orgasm, Gojo leaned forward and captured your lips with his, stifling your moans so only he could hear. His name upon your lips, begging for more, begging for all of him. 

Heavenly, you were, and it was all for him—something Gojo would have never predicted. Yes, he was skilled, and yes, he was the strongest, but you were the only person to ever make him feel alive. When he said he loved you, he meant it. 

And you allowed him to finally nestle his thick cock where it was desperate to go. 

“Satoru! Ahhh….” You threw your head back at the sensation, back arching within the same movement, unprepared for how thick and commanding he would be. You closed your eyes for a moment, only feeling, only touching, only relishing in him. Your mind was filled with his rapture, his passion, his love.

“S-so big,” you whimpered, gripping the edge of the desk in bewilderment, eyes squeezing shut from the intense pressure that filled and stretched you completely. "Fuck!" Was all you managed to sound between erratic moans, only wanting to feel him, latching onto his biceps for support, bodies pressing against the other in sync from the moment of consummation. Gojo sank into you until it was painful, until you were full of his twitching cock.

You were dripping, making it easy for him to thrust as slowly as he could, waiting for you to adjust, waiting for your command to take it even further.

“M-more…” you begged, not needing to repeat your demand before Gojo ravished you. Exhilarated by your moans, he gradually began to thrust harder, obsessed with how your body trembled, pleading for more, praying for all of him.

"Fuck Y/N, you're taking me so well." Gojo complimented in a strained voice. He was vocal, and you loved it, yet you couldn't find the time to reply between your cries of ecstasy, becoming increasingly crazed. You could almost sob at how vivifying it felt.

All this time, he wanted to be this close to you, and now that he was, he needed to immerse himself in your cries and whimpers, smell you, taste you, and be enveloped by you.

"Is this what you wanted from me this whole time?" he teased, and his voice was so electrifying that even though he was still thrusting while trapping you down, your back began to arch against the desk, flush against him.

Shivers jolted through your entire body as you nodded furiously. "Yes, Satoru, so bad-ah!"

The pounding came next, so deep inside you, feeling every inch of your walls, feeling every inch of your body. Gojo moaned loudly, caging you between his arms, angled perfectly and deeply. You couldn’t look anywhere but his eyes as he thrust into you over and over again. It was so passionate, and you were a mess. Your moans mixed in with his, and it was all-consuming, it was life-changing, it was love.

It was what you imagined and so much more.

"Feels so good!" you whimpered, feeling your abdomen flood with pressure again, tightening, burning.

Gojo felt you clench around him, your body shaking. Only a few minutes had passed, and he wanted to last longer, but he couldn’t. You were too pretty, you felt too good. “Fuck baby-” he moaned. “Gonna cum-” 

He pounded into you a few more times until you cried out, gushing around him so sweetly that it was hard to pull out, he didn't want to, but he did. 

With your chest rising and falling sharply, your legs shaking and twitching, Gojo released himself with a loud, strained moan. 

"Fuck! Fuck, I love you…” he exasperated, covering your abdomen with his seed.  It was euphoric, the best he’d ever had. He leaned forward over you, grasping onto the edge of your desk, his strength and the power of his orgasm caused him to snap the molding off, completely denting and splintering the corner of your desk.

“Satoru!” you gasped, propping yourself up on your elbows. 

“Shit….” He grit his teeth in embarrassment, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck before bending down and searching for the box of tissues he saw earlier. “I’ll buy you a new one I swear-” 

And then, you started laughing. “It was that good huh?” 

“The best,” he confirmed, cleaning you up the best he could so you could slide your clothes back on. His legs were still trembling, though, and shit, he needed more.

“I love you too.” You stood on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

“Good enough to make you come back home with me?” 

“I would say perfect,” you smirked as he looped his arm around your waist. "Now I just wonder how much money Shoko is going to make on Monday..."

"What ever do you mean?" he asked with a goofy, lopsided grin, as if he wasn't close friends with her and unaware of the situation.

"She bet that we would get together..."

"Aww," he chuckled, looping your purse over his shoulder. "I'll double it since she believed in me," he said before whisking you away to his apartment, where the two of you immediately started round two.

[mrsshabana]

𝐙𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐄!𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎 ⛧ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary As a modern-day witch, you're used to encounters with the supernatural. But when your crush suddenly dies in an accident you act on a whim and bring him back to life, turning him into an undead monster. Will you be able to make him feel alive again? ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, witchcraft, gore, body horror, violence ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.3k words. This story was inspired by American Horror Story Coven.

༺ Art ༻

⇢ Chapter two ⇢ Chapter three ⇢ Kinktober Masterlist

Things were never supposed to happen this way.

You had good intentions, but you didn't think things through. God, you should have thought twice.

But you couldn't not do it. The only reason he died was because he fell for you. A cursed girl.

Gyutaro worked at the local plant nursery where you shopped weekly. He wasn't the type for customer service, but he liked seeing you. Always going out of his way to order rare plants and materials for you.

You are a witch after all, so his assistance was very helpful for you and your coven. Of course, Gyutaro didn't know you were a witch, he just thought you were a cute girl who liked the shop. He never thought much about why you came in so often.

Besides, he only worked there because they were chill and didn't care that he would come to work smelling like weed.

He was a strange guy, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't have a crush on him. Those pretty birthmarks and that crooked smile were too much for your heart to resist.

But everything changed when you found out about the accident. One night when he was driving home from work, his motorcycle was hit by a semitruck.

An accident like that doesn't happen every day. It was no coincidence, and you knew it.

Being a witch has its perks, but there are also cons as well. Every boy that's ever loved you has died a tragic death. If only you knew how much he liked you, you would have stopped coming around. But it's too late now.

That poor, sweet boy died because he fell in love with a witch. You couldn't let this be his fate. Maybe he was just some shop employee but he was so much more than that to you.

And that's what caused you to make the rash decision to perform a resurrection ritual. You've only ever resurrected small animals, so this was very new to you.

There was no turning back after you broke into the morgue. Reattaching his body parts and sewing them back together. The accident must have been horrific for his body to have been separated into so many pieces. At least piecing him back together wasn't too hard, the pieces were easy to identify since they had those pretty black spots on them.

At first, you thought the ritual didn't work. After blowing out your candles and double checking you did everything correctly, his body still lay there motionless and cold.

You didn't realize you had been there for so long until an employee came in to start their shift for the day. Quickly hiding behind a metal table, you tried to stay out of sight.

The poor guy wasn't ready for what he saw. In his eyes, it seemed like some kind of devil worshippers broke in and desecrated the body.

He shouldn't have gotten so close.

Maybe it was the smell of fresh flesh that awoke him, or maybe he sensed that his summoner was in danger. Who knows? But Gyutaro opened his eyes and attacked the man. Animalistic as he sunk his jagged teeth into the man's throat.

"Gyutaro, stop!!" You tried to pull him away but there was no use. The warm blood entering his cold dead body was too much to turn away from.

Eventually, you were able to pull him away and coerce him out of the building. And that leads you to where you are now. Desperately trying to lead him into your apartment without any of your neighbors noticing.

He moans and groans as he struggles to walk. Some parts of his body were more decomposed than others, so it'll take a while for them to work properly again.

Somehow you manage to get him inside, helping him onto the couch so he can rest.

Seeing him in this state, a bloodthirsty monster, barely able to control his body, and unable to speak. That's when the regret starts to set in. Maybe he's suffering more now that he's been resurrected. At least in death, he was at rest.

Tears prick at your eyes as you begin to clean the blood off of him.

"Gyutaro... do you remember me? Y/N? I was one of your customers."

He groans and stares at you, "...Y...Y..." He mumbles the beginning of your name but he isn't able to push the word out.

Feeling relieved that he seemingly remembers you, you go on to explain the situation to him. "I don't know how to say this... but Gyutaro, you died. You were in a terrible accident. Do you remember what happened?"

"..." He's silent as his mismatched eyes dart around. Then out of nowhere he begins to yell, banging his arms on the couch, grabbing things off the end table and throwing them across the room in a fit of frustrated rage.

"Hey, hey calm down!" You try to calm him down but to no avail.

He screams until his voice is raw. Unable to speak or properly control himself, his tantrum intensifies. There's nothing you can do as he's far too strong to restrain. So you just let him let it all out until he's left tired and full of so many emotions he isn't able to express in his new form.

Seeing him now, you aren't even sure if he's Gyutaro anymore. How much of him is left in there? Maybe you only created a monster in the shape of the boy you once loved. But either way, this monster is now your responsibility.

You try giving him time to adjust to his new life, but the tantrums keep coming. Bursts of anger ensue when he gets frustrated. He feels like he's trapped inside of a body that barely works. Deep down he knows how to function, but he just can't. Not to mention the nothingness he feels inside. He feels like a walking husk of who he used to be, completely hollow and empty.

Not only is he emotionally numb, but physically too. Whether his arm falls off because the stitches came undone, or he stabs himself because he gets curious about what would happen. He doesn't feel a thing.

You're the only exception. As soon as your fingers grace his cold discolored skin he feels a spark of warmth. A sensation so pleasant that he can't help but crave it. In a body full of nothingness, your touch is the only thing that makes him feel alive again. He just wishes that he could tell you.

Countless nights you've spent researching spells and remedies to help ease him. Some books say he needs human flesh. Others say you must give him some of your life force. Some suggest doing something to get his blood pumping again, something to kickstart his instincts. But nothing comes to mind.

Not until he limps his way into your bedroom one night as you're researching.

The thuds of the zombie boy's footsteps get louder as he walks towards you.

"What is it, Gyu? Are you hungry again?" You turn and give him a soft smile, "Remember, no eating people-"

He interrupts you with a low groan like he has something he wants to tell you.

"Y-Y/N..." he barely mumbles your name.

"Yes? Do you need me to do something?" You say as you get up from your desk to stand in front of him, ready to help him with whatever he needs.

He looks down at you, his undead eyes glossed over. With slow and jagged movements he grabs your wrist and places your hand on his chest. "F-Fe...eel... al-ive..."

Your eyes widen as you feel his heart weakly begin to beat under your touch, "Y-You feel alive when I touch you?"

He nods slowly, "Tou...ch... mo-more..."

[shomatoriashi]

7/29/24 09:21pm

sung jinwoo x fem.reader

[ drabble ]

{ lucky i’m in love with my best friend | lucky to have been where i have been | lucky to be coming home again… }

you were utterly fascinated with the young man who lay next to you, lost in a blissful slumber as you admired his sleeping features. your fingertips ached with the urge to touch him, feeling them reach out to gently grace at his jawline in an almost reverent manner.

sung jinwoo had always been such an anomaly to you; you hadn’t the slightest clue as to how such a powerful, yet kind, man could have ever fallen in love with you.

you, who had loved him from the start-

(back when he was labeled as the weakest in the world.)

you, who had always believed that he had the potential to be so much more.

it was true that the love you gave to jinwoo was nothing short of unconditional. you loved him when he never once loved himself, always filling your days with self-deprecating rants as he sought comfort in your embrace.

even when fate had changed his life (for better or for worse, you couldn’t say for sure) when he was made stronger by becoming a player of the system, jinwoo never once left your side. regardless of how much he leveled up, jinwoo still relied on your love and care, always wanting you to help heal him while thanking you by littering your face with sweet kisses.

your heart swelled with love for him, unable to believe just how lucky you were to remain by his side. deep down, you knew that jinwoo could have chosen another to love; how he could have been with someone more suited for him while leaving you in the dust-

but that never once happened. by some miracle, jinwoo’s feelings for you never once changed, remaining just as strong as the day he first confessed his feelings for you all those years ago.

watching him sleeping so peacefully, (with his handsome features remaining oh so tranquil as he was lost in the land of dreams), you could feel your affections overflowing for him. a mischievous grin paints your expression, and you found yourself becoming a bit more playful tonight.

with a gentle hum, you lay across jinwoo’s broad chest, watching as a frown paints his features. giggling profusely, you lean up to press a series of butterfly kisses all across his face, earning a soft grunt from him.

“sarang…” jinwoo’s voice was hoarse, filled with a feign annoyance from being woken up so suddenly. he opens one eye to look at you, stormy grey meeting with your playful gaze as you simply smiled innocently at him.

“my precious monarch.” you continue to litter his face with kisses, earning a light chuckle from him as he wraps his arms around your waist, calling you a troublemaker before pressing a lingering kiss against your lips.

to say you melted against him would be an understatement, for upon feeling the sensation of his lips perfectly slotting against yours, you lost all coherent thought. jinwoo playfully bites down against your bottom lip before sucking at it in an apologetic manner, making you let out a soft moan in response.

“that’s what you get for waking me up.” his voice turns stern, but held no malice as he allows you to cuddle closer to him. you end up burying your head within his chest with a sigh, pressing your ear directly over his heart as you basked in its gentle beats.

“sleep, my love. then i’ll take you to somewhere nice when morning comes.” jinwoo promises you all while massaging at your scalp, purposely threading his fingers through your hair as you let out content purrs in response.

eager at the thought of spending more time with him, you let out one last giggle before basking in his warmth, feeling your eyelids grow heavier as you finally fell into a peaceful slumber while in his embrace ♡

end notes: new blog, new me, who’s this? lol but honestly, my original blog just made me feel overwhelmed for some odd reason, and i wanted to do something new. my original blog won’t be deleted, but all my new writings will be here from now on (⺣◡⺣)♡ thanks for joining me once more if you’re an avid reader of my works!

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[lure-of-writing]

Left in regret

Authors note: Thank you all so much on the love for this story it truly means a lot to me that you all like it so much. I didn't plan for this to have a part two but I really hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Summary: After telling Azriel and the inner circle how you truly felt about Elain and about your feelings so Azriel the inner circles world comes to a very abrupt halt.

Word count: 2.5k, Part two to never been good enough

Part one Here: Never been good Enough

Part three: Why can't we?

To say that everyone was shocked by your outburst would be an understatement but in all honesty how could they blame you when everything that you said was correct. Looking back on all the time that has passed since the inner circle welcomed the new family members, they could see just how much you were being excluded and it broke their hearts that they were the reason that you were feeling this way but it was no one's fault to blame but their own. Azriel took it the hardest. He knew that he was spending a lot of time with Elain but she made him happy and even though he knew she had a mate he honestly couldn't find it within himself to care about that. If Elain didn’t want to be with her mate then who is he to stop her. 

For the first time in a long time Azriel felt happy and it was all thanks to the person you hated most. The guilt he felt was immense but how could he not pursue what made him happy? For all of his life he never thought that he would be good enough for a mate so he accepted that it would never be one of the things he has in life but a stable relationship with Elain could be one of the rare gifts the mother blesses him with. But to break your heart with such revelations broke his own and up until the point of you practically laying your heart out to bare he never knew about your feeling for him and he has never felt like he deserved the title of spy master less then he did in that moment because how could he have never noticed how you felt about him? 

Azriel hasn’t seen you since that fateful day on top of the house of wind a week ago no one has been able to reach you not even Rhysand and it was starting to concern him. You simply took off running towards the ledge of the house before throwing yourself off and winnowed away while falling through the air. A stunt has never scared Azriel more, that was until seven whole days have passed with no one being able to find you. Between the three brothers they searched high and low for you but came up empty handed every time. It was becoming very clear that you didn’t want to be found but Azriel needed you to come home, he needed to talk to you about everything. His mind hasn’t been able to quiet down since your confession “I have been in love with Azriel since the day I met him” your words plagued his mind at all hours of the day and he knew unless he was able to speak to you it would remain that way until it practically drove him insane for he knew he would spend however long until he was able to see you again replaying every interaction he's ever had with you from top to bottom wondering how he missed the signs. But he knew better than that, you were a trained spy, a very well one at that and if you didn’t want him to know what you were thinking then he simply wouldn't. 

More days have dragged on then Azriel was comfortable with you being gone, he wanted you home more than he wanted to be around Elain and that was saying a lot for him.  

Most of the inner circle was sitting around the table at the river house when Rhysand walked in looking less than pleased, it immediately caught his attention. That's when he noticed the piece of paper pinched between Rhys fingers “What is that?” His words were the first to break the uncomfortable silence that had been suffocating the group. “Y/n sent a letter.” this was not his brother speaking this was his high lord and something about that set Azriel on edge, whatever he was about to say next was going to break his soul he just knew it. “She addressed it to the inner circle and has asked that it only be read to the inner circle.” Rhysand shied away from Feyre's eyes but he knew that she understood because without any hesitation she stood up from her seat and urged her sisters to do the same but Elain refused. “I’m not leaving. I want to hear what she has to say.” something about hearing Elains demand to know what you said when she is the reason you left set Azriels blood on fire “Leave Elain or I will do it for you.”  

Nesta was quick to anger with that statement “Threaten my sister again and I will kill you.” she statement was nothing short of a promise but Feyre was quick to grab her sisters but not quick enough for Azriels sharp words to cut deep into the middle sister's heart “If you had never come here, I wouldn’t have lost my dearest friend because of you. Now I see that y/n was right, you are a wolf in a sheep's clothing and I was too blind to see it right before my very eyes. I want nothing to do with you Elain.”  Azriel knew his words cut deep but something inside him couldn’t find it in him to care. Everyone waited until the three sisters closed the door before doing anything else and they waited once more for the sounds of retreating footsteps before Rhysand cleared his throat and began reading your letter. 

“In all my years of having the honor of being a member of the inner circle this is not how I envisioned my end. I always thought if anything I would die on the battle field or on a mission and that would be where my story ended amongst the circle but for it to end like this is something I could've never imagined. Rhysand I am so happy that you finally found your mate and honestly Feyre couldn’t be more perfect for you, but I cannot say the same for her sisters. To be frank I could have done without them but no such choice is mine to make. There are a lot of things I want to say but I’m not sure if I will ever be able to say them so for now I will settle with this. First I want to thank you all for being the most loving group of people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Though you may have shown it in your own ways I will forever cherish the memories we made together and for that I am thankful. There is no easy way to put this but I see now that my time amongst the inner circle was limited and it is something I will always hold dear to my heart even with this painful ending. It never bothered me that I was becoming less needed within the group but to be forgotten about while dying in a battlefield changed something in me. For as long as I can remember if one of us was unaccounted for the others would stop at nothing to find whoever was lost but the same urgency was not placed upon me until Tamlin walked in with my dying body. Azriel I heard you ask how as a group you had forgotten about me and it broke me. It became glaringly obvious that I was no longer needed as a member of the inner circle but I didn’t want to believe it so I didn’t. But watching you fall in love with Elain was something I could not do when I knew that I had been in love with you since the moment I met you. I silently loved you from afar while hoping that one day you would realize I was here right in front of you willing to give you my love but all you could see was Elain from the moment you learned about her existence. I will never blame you for loving who you love but to say it doesn’t hurt would be a lie. This letter is getting to be just a giant jumble of my thoughts so let me end with a few things. In three days I will gather my belongings from the house of wind and move from the night court, please do not ask for any other information as I will not tell you any. Now it's time for me to say my goodbyes for I know I will not be able to do so in person. Amren, thank you for being a fountain of knowledge and someone I could go to, to sit in silence and not feel alone while doing so. Mor, your friendship is like no other that I’ve ever known and I cannot thank you enough for showing me such loyalty and encouragement. I'm sure that I will never find another friendship like yours. Cassian, your ability to be strong for not only your family but for yourself is something I hope to learn one day. I have definitely learned to be strong because of you. Please know you are worth so much more than all of the hateful words thrown at you. Rhysand to serve in not only your court but inner circle has been the honor of a lifetime. You have already proven yourself to be an amazing high lord and I have no doubt that you will continue to do so in the future. But most of all thank you for showing me that being myself is ok and allowing me to grow into the person I am. I could not have done it without you. Lastly, Azriel, thank you for showing me what true love is.”

The weight of your words lay heavy on each member's heart. Everything you had said had hit them differently. “She's leaving?” Amren was the first to speak after the never ending silence. While Amren may simply tolerate most people she had a place in her heart just for you. She saw parts of herself in you and wanted to help you in any way she could, albeit was a little unconventional so to hear that you were leaving broke her heart but deep down she understood why. She saw the moment you realized that Azriel was your mate while you watched as he shielded Elain from your wrath, saw the look of heartbreak flash and disappear within your eyes, saw the mourning that replaced it instead. She knew why you were leaving, you would never make him be with you just because of the bond so instead you would act like it never existed if it meant he would be happy without you. “Y/n can’t just leave, she's family.” Morrigan was the next to speak with tears pooling along her eyes “We are a family y/n must know how much we all love and care about her?”  but nobody said anything until Cassian spoke up “No y/n is right we acted as if we no longer needed her. Rhysand has Feyre, I have Nesta, Azriel with Elain, Mor you are closer friends with Feyre then y/n and Amren has varian so who does that leave y/n with?” Cassian's question hung in the air unanswered “Exactly. It leaves her alone with no one but herself.” as much as people thought cassian was a brute he was equally if not more observant, he could see that you had been unintentionally outed from the group and to deal with his part of your leaving he got up and left without another word to work out his emotions on the top of the house of wind with a brutal workout. Cassian left everyone else to deal with their emotions on their own. 

In the three days leading up to your arrival it seemed as if everything within the inner circle had changed. Azriel avoided Elain, Mor distanced herself from Feyre, Cassian barely trained with Nesta and Rhysand tried to send letter after letter to you asking to sit and speak with him. No response came. It was as if the world had stopped on a dime for the inner circle. The silence was deafening as they waited in the common area of the house of wind while waiting for your arrival. But the silence was even louder when you were set gently on the floor after being released from the arms of an unknown man with wings. No one made a move or even said anything; they simply stared at the stranger in front of them. In that frozen moment Azriel felt something he never thought he would get to experience: the mating bond snapping into place. He felt the string that connected him to you and he could hear nothing else but the sound of his heart beating loudly in his ears. He knew Rhysand said something to you but he couldn’t hear it, maybe he was in shock. Azriel watched you with extreme precision as you moved without saying anything to Rhysand to start down the hallway with the random man in tow. Azriel wanted to ask you who he was, why you thought you had to leave, where you going to go but he found himself unable to speak. It wasn’t until you reappeared in the common room that he was able to say anything. 

“We’re mates?” He hadn’t meant it as a question but it definitely came out as one. He watched as a sigh fell from your lips before you spoke “Yes” Azriel had never heard you sound so exhausted, so beatdown while this was supposed to be one of the most exciting times of your life. This is what people begged the mother for, what he had begged the mother for with no hope that he would ever get to experience it. “You’re not excited?” tired eyes bore into his “If the bond had not just snapped would you want me? If you never found out we were mates would you have picked me? Or Elain? I have never been a person of romantic interest to you before today so does a bond even matter?” Azriel knew you had made valid points but hearing you say all the times he hadn’t picked you broke his heart. “The Answer is no Azriel you wouldn’t have so please don’t start choosing me now. I don’t want a relationship out of force from the bond, I want you to choose me because I’m the person you want. So please do not start acting like you want me now when you didn’t want me four days ago.”  And with that he watched as you placed yourself in the arms of another man and took off towards the sea. Azriel watched as you left this place behind without another word, left without letting Azriel fight for your mating bond and he has never regretted getting involved with Elain more than he did in that moment. 

Taglist: @j-pendragonx , @piceous21 , @harrystylesfan2686 , @kemillyfreitas

[larluce]

Arthur travels back in time to save Merlin (from becoming a tree) AU

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART2 (You're here) , PART 3

The king of Camelot goes to visit his magic tree before his next battle. This isn't new. He always visits it. But it will be the last time he does it.

Arthur: (caressing the bark of the tree with a hand)It's finally time. I'm sorry it took so long. (sighs) And I'm sorry I have to do this.

He knows he's being selfish. Camelot is better than ever, his people is happy and yet he's going to war, risking this era of peace. A war he knows he won't come back from. But it's necessary.

Gwen: (arriving) Arthur...

Arthur: I won't change my mind, Guinivere

Gwen: I know. I just want to understand. Arthur, why? The price is too high and the chance it might work too slim. And even if it does work, you are risking that everything you know, everything you built will never happen.

Arthur: It's a risk I'm willing to take. I can prevent so many things from happening, not only Merlin's fate, but Gawain's, Elyan's, Lancelot's-

Gwen: Don't pretend you're not doing this just for him, Arthur, I'm not a fool.

Arthur: ...

Gwen: He wouldn't want you to do this. And you know it.

Arthur: Yeah, well, he didn't care about what I wanted when he made that stupid deal.

It's been ten years since Merlin saved his life and was cursed to be a tree forever as a payback. He was now a majestic beautiful tree in the royal garden and the most valuable national treasure in Camelot due to its magical properties: It could give fruits with the ability to cure all ills and the most serious wounds, but also could give ones with the most letal poison. Its wood was the finest. Once it let some branches fall for its king before an important battle and the weapons that were made with them are still as good as new to this day. Though Arthur did his part, he knows Camelot probably would not have obtained the title of the greatest, richest and most prosperous kingdom if it weren't for his Merlin.

However, not everything was sunshine and rainbows. Like every treasure it was also coveted by everyone who wanted to use it for their own selfish purposes. Kingdoms envious of his power sent spies to try to steal its fruits, its branches and even to try to cut it down to leave Camelot defenseless. Others even tried to invade Camelot just to posses the magic tree, but Camelot's army was the strongest in all Albion so they never could and soon they stopped trying.

There was a time they almost got too close though. Once Arthur found a man holding an ax stuck deep in Merlin's trunk. He has gone so mad with fury, he almost beat the man to death if it weren't because his knights stopped him before he made the final blow. He was still livid after that, but he let Gwen handle the man's trial, because he knew he wouldn't be reasonable in the state he was in. In the end the man was sentenced to beheading. It was what the law decreed since touching the King's tree was by law an act of treason. The king who sent the spy had to make a public apology and give monetary compensation to avoid a war. Arthur did make sure the spy's head was cut of with his own ax though. Later, when he was alone with his tree, Arthur cried because he almost lost Merlin again. The king apologised to him over and over again between sobs and cried until he fell asleep at the tree's roots.

It was then when it hit him. One day he would die and there won't be anyone to protect Merlin from greedy people who will only use his power for their own gains. Merlin would be at his new owner's mercy and the one after that, and the one after that, forever without being able to do anything about it. The mere thought made Arthur sick to his stomach.

No, he won't allow that to happen.

Gwen: (with teary eyes) Aren't we happy?

Arthur: Don't say that. You have always made me happy.

Gwen: (laughs weakely) But he made you happier, didn't he?

Arthur: ...

Gwen: You never told me. Which were Merlin's last words.

Arthur: I love you... he said I love you.

Gwen: Oh... (smiles) I get it now. Alright I'll help you. Just promise me something.

Arthur: Anything.

Gwen: Don't feel bad if you can't prevent other people from dying. In fact, you don't have to do it. Just save Merlin.

Arthur: But-

Gwen: No, you have done so much for this kingdom and sacrifice so much. (cradling his face) You owe us nothing and you owe me nothing, alright? Just be happy.

They hugged each other tightly and they share their last kiss and I love you before Arthur finally went to bloodiest battle he'll ever had in his life. And, after killing 100 hundred enemy soldiers with his blade, the king of Camelot died at the early age of forty.

Later Percival and Leon retrieve the king's corpse and bring it before their queen who doesn't share a tear despite being broken inside. She orders for his late husband to be buried next to his tree instead of burned in a pyre, proclaming that's what the king would have wanted. The real reason however is more complex than that.

The night after the funeral, she secretly brings the druids her husband consorted for years to the royal garden for the ritual to be made. Before the tree, as was planned, is the Ancient Round Table of the Ancient Kings.

Druid1: A sword with the blood of 300 hundred man.

Gwen: (gives excalibur to him)

Druid2: Three dragon scales.

Percival: (gives them to her)

Druid3: And the corpse of a king. We have everything.

Leon: Will this really work?

Druid1: This ritual had only worked once in the times of the ancient kings and only because it was done by three of the most powerful sorcerers of that time. We are not that powerful.

Druid2: However, we have a great magic source (she points the tree). So it might work.

It worked! That's Arthur's first thought when he opens his eyes again and finds himself in his room 20 years younger.

....

HIII!! First of all I want to thank you all for giving the first post so much love! I was truly shocked because I didn't think the AU was that good, so I'm really glad you liked it. I hope this kind of sequel/prequel? was of your liking too.

I don't think I'm going to make this a full fic yet, but I can make snippets like this about this AU until then.

What else would like to see happening in this AU? Let me know in the comments or reblogs ;)