#as in some people are only abusive to family because they expect family to have no boundaries for them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunderwight · 1 year ago

Text

AU where there's no system (or a decidedly less restrictive one) and Shen Yuan transmigrates into an OC rogue cultivator before the start of the novel, and decides he's gonna steal the protagonist before Luo Binghe even gets to Cang Qiong.

The logic is sound -- he'll keep Luo Binghe from experiencing neglect and abuse at Shen Qingqiu's hands, raise him away from the pressure of the sects and the likelihood that anyone else might find out about his heritage and try to harm him over it, keep him fully away from the Immortal Alliance Conference, and then Luo Binghe's course will change trajectory because he'll have no reason to want revenge against the world and no access to Xin Mo. Shen Yuan will be able to spare Luo Binghe some suffering and possibly survive in a world less subject to the harrowing whims of a half-mad tyrannical overlord. Win-win!

However, the tricky bit is that he's not sure exactly how far ahead of the novel he is, and also Airplane didn't specify where Luo Binghe grew up. This means that Luo Binghe could be any age younger than twelve and in any number of places along or near to the Luo river.

Shen Yuan decides he's going to approach this by pretending he is looking for the long-lost son of his sister, traveling through the likeliest areas, asking after abandoned children who might fit the protagonist's description. It's a long shot, he knows, and he's mostly relying on the existence of Narrative Destiny. But eventually he is directed by several people towards a particular city, which is not as close to the river as he'd have expected Luo Binghe to grow up, but then again he only knows that was where baby Binghe was found, not where the washerwoman who took him in ultimately lived.

It becomes clear to him, though, that he's been sent to the wrong target. But also why he's been sent astray is apparent in nearly the same breath, because among the slave children living in this area is a little boy who could be his much younger clone.

Seriously, this kid looks just like him! Or, well, close enough. He looks a lot like Shen Yuan's actual nieces and nephews from his past life. It's uncanny.

Also, because of his search, the slave kids get wind of what he's looking for (his long-lost nephew) pretty quick. The boy with the obvious resemblance to him greets Shen Yuan's own assessment with wary cynicism, but he's just a little boy. So it's not difficult to notice the way he's also practically vibrating with hopefulness, half-hiding behind a protective older kid and looking at Shen Yuan with big dark eyes like he expects to be rescued or destroyed with whatever he has to say next.

Shen Yuan has a big problem now. He just knows that if he says something like "actually no this boy is too old to be my nephew" or whatever other excuse, no one will believe him, and also this poor kid is going to be permanently scarred by it. He's going to think Shen Yuan is lying just so that he can reject him. On top of that, he's not in a good situation here. None of these children are even remotely well cared-for.

Shen Yuan's rogue cultivator self isn't rich on the level of being like a wealthy sect leader or anything, but he's made some money since transmigrating by doing random cultivator jobs and quests along the way here. He uses it all to purchase two little slave boys (Do Not Separate), then takes another job and uses that coin to acquire a somewhat rundown manor which used to belong to the local gentry. The Qiu family (rings some bells but that's not exactly an uncommon name) kept it up for a while in case a branch family sprung up in need of a residence, but they've been in decline and the place is downright decrepit, so they had been looking to sell it instead. It's too big for a wandering bachelor like SY to ever need on his own account, but that's sort of the idea. He makes more money taking on cultivator work, at first taking his boys along with him for lack of any alternative. Nerve-wrackingly dangerous! Eventually he hires workers to start restoring the manor, particularly setting up a yard to be a school area, and then starts taking on any freelance jobs he can get in order to steadily buy out the contracts on all the other kids. He gets it nice enough to house and care for as many orphans as he can acquire.

Not because he's a big old softie though!

His story of looking for his nephew is a bust now, since he's apparently "found" the kid. So he's got to change tactics! If he can't find baby Binghe and the washerwoman, the next best approach is to create an opportunity for them to come to him. So once he's got his new household established, he starts offering free lessons to all the local kids. Not just the ones he's taken in, but also any who come by and want to learn some things. It's a tempting setup for anyone who wants their child to get education but can't afford a tutor, and Luo Binghe's mother had been entirely the sort of person who would have packed up and left her situation if there had been an opportunity for it.

On that note, SY also starts hiring single mothers to help look after his new gaggle of children and do the work he doesn't know how to do in these times, like keeping house, laundry, cooking, actually raising kids, etc.

His "little school" is not universally popular. A few groups try and ruin him, because the poverty in the region provides a basis of business for them. The ringleaders of the human traffickers in the area don't want their trade to dry up, even if it means selling all of their merchandise for this round, so when they find out that their underlings let Shen Yuan buy off all the kids they try and intimidate him into returning them (it doesn't go well for them). The Qiu family also isn't thrilled after it becomes clear what he's doing, and get him investigated by the local authorities (read: use their bribed officials and local goons to try and interfere.)

When that doesn't work either the sects get involved, because the Qiu go crying to Huan Hua Palace that Shen Yuan is sketchy and is trying to establish his own sect. So Shen Yuan talks his way around the matter, and frankly the Qiu are small fish even if they're the biggest ones in the local pond, so HHP doesn't care to pursue things much further. (Read: SY could mop the floor with the disciples they sent to investigate him, and it's not worth it to piss off someone this mysterious and powerful just to bully some impoverished children.)

Shen Yuan is appalled by all this bullshit though. Trust the world of PIDW to make it so hard just for a guy to teach some poor kids how to read and do math!

It makes him dig in his heels about it, because he is at heart a stubborn bastard. The fires that once fueled a thousand angry screeds on zhongdian literature site is now aimed at the local magistrate. One of the women he's hired on has some dirt on the Qiu family, which leads SY to dig up some more until he eventually has enough to turn the tables on them. Local officials won't investigate because they've all been bought, but that in and of itself is of some interest to their superiors closer to the palace, and so SY arranges an investigation of his own that goes way further than he thought? Turns out there are some ugly skeletons in the Qiu closets, and the imperial investigator comes down on them hard.

Well, he can't say they didn't have it coming? Though he does feel bad for the children in the family, especially the oldest son, who gets hauled off to jail along with his father. At least the girl is sent to live with relatives. Maybe he should have done more to shield the minors in the situation...?

His kids tell him not to worry about it, though, that apparently young master Qiu was known to run people down in the streets and beat his servants and do other cartoonishly awful things. SY's not sure how much of it is true and how much of it is his little flock of fluffy sheep trying to ease his conscience, though they do all seem to take a lot of vindictive delight in the whole affair. Especially Nephew, who clings to his sleeves and loudly declares that the investigator should have publicly flogged the discredited nobles so that everyone could go watch, and then begs him for sweets as if that wasn't a creepy thing to hear come out of an eight-year-old's mouth. SY just sighs and tells him he can have something good when he finishes his calligraphy practice.

Of course, it's not exactly easy running what is basically an orphanage-slash-school (and maybe a budding sect...?), especially when pretty much all of the kids have been traumatized and faced stuff like rampant dehumanization, food insecurity, abuse, and neglect. Hiring single mothers soon becomes not only a plan to try and lure in Luo Binghe's mom, but an absolute godsend of an idea because SY has no clue WHAT he would do on his own about the discipline issues or emotional breakdowns or acting out that some of the kids get up to once it registers that they're in a safe enough place to unpack their baggage.

Apart from Nephew, SY's favorite kid is the one who came with him, the oldest of the flock of former slave children. He's the big brother of the group, the one who tries his best to look after the others and to not make any trouble himself. But even poor Little Yue is still just a kid who has been through too much, and he also eventually starts having some meltdowns and struggles with processing everything that has happened to him as a vulnerable child in an unkind world.

SY really didn't mean to start a trauma center for mistreated children!

Though, that's still not necessarily a bad thing for Luo Binghe to one day come across, provided he ever actually shows up...

Eventually, Shen Yuan does figure out that he must be ahead even of Luo Binghe's birth, though he still doesn't put together that he's interfered in the scum villain's backstory. Probably something even more amusingly obscure, like the creation year of some random artifact Luo Binghe used in some wife plot or other, tips him off and he mentally throws his hands up in the air. He's got to wait DECADES? Maybe he ought to try and find Luo Binghe's biological parents and just follow them around at this point!

Not that he can, now, though, because he has to make sure no negative IQ villains (who will probably just be cannon fodder for a subplot one day) decide to send goons to literally burn down his orphanage. Also if he's gone for too long his kids get upset. Probably because no one else is as weak to their puppy dog eyes and pleas for treats and toys as he is.

At least it gives him time to shore up his position, and train Nephew and Little Yue more extensively in cultivation. Despite his initial assurances to HHP that he was but a humble orphan wrangler who was only incidentally a cultivator, Shen Yuan does also teach the other kids some basic cultivation exercises. There are a few reasons for that.

One is just the principle of the thing. No, these kids don't all have the potential to become great immortals or anything, but they can still learn some of it and it's good for their health if they do. The only trouble is if they try and push too hard or attempt things beyond their range, and that's a risk with everyone who cultivates. Or even just exercises!

Another reason is that it helps stave off the jealousy that some of the kids have towards those with more cultivation potential. Teaching a lot of the basics all around makes it into just another topic at school. Some kids might not be as good at it as others, but those kids might also be better at math, or memorization, or board games, and while cultivation can open more doors to people as adults, for the children this is generally enough to satisfy their sense of fairness. Or at least reduce outbursts and fights.

Finally, the impression that any of SY's kids might be a cultivator also makes wicked people more reluctant to try and abduct or interfere with them. Cultivators are revered and nearly mythological figures in the public consciousness. It isn't difficult to see why, if even a rogue cultivator NPC like SY* can mop the floor with most random muggers (*Shen Yuan is not a normal rogue cultivator). Not many people want to risk bringing SY's ire down on them, but of those who might chance it if he wasn't around to immediately react, even fewer want to risk that the kids themselves could kick their asses.

Not knowing that only two of the orphans probably could in fact mop the floor with them helps keep all the rest safer, and is more believable when all of them can conduct themselves enough like disciples to fool anyone who doesn't know what to really look for.

Developments that surprise Shen Yuan but wouldn't surprise anyone else who is paying attention:

People start leaving unwanted babies and younger children on his doorstep. Not all the time, but more than once has he had to frantically find wet nurses and worry that he's changed things enough that some fishermen might just randomly drop the protagonist outside his gate, and he wouldn't even know because Binghe would be a literal infant??

Nephew (SJ) and Little Yue (Yue Qi -- only Shen Yuan calls him "Little", especially when he gets taller than SY by the time he's sixteen) are prodigies who get really good at cultivation, really fast, and between that and Shen Yuan's OP skills they completely warp Shen Yuan's ideas for what normal cultivation potential looks like. This would probably cause more problems if he wasn't teaching all the kids how to cultivate anyway, but means his students actually do kinda run the usual range of skills for a small sect.

SJ and YQ swiftly reach the point where they need more advanced equipment than just SY's teaching can provide, if they're going to keep building their skills. Gaining access to certain tools, aids, and materials (like spiritual swords) is a real hurdle though, and usually is for rogue cultivators (one of the major disadvantages of no sect affiliation.) Shen Yuan is hesitant to use stuff from the plot, since it's For Binghe, but he eventually caves and starts going after some things that he doesn't think the future protagonist will miss much. He also ends up buying stuff from HHP, since they're willing to sell things like spiritual tools and weapons if the price is right, whereas most other sects like Cang Qiong reserve them for members only.

They get an invitation to the Immortal Alliance Conference. Not the one where the Abyss opens up, obviously, the one where (originally) Shen Jiu reunited with Yue Qi and killed Wu Yanzi. Shen Yuan debates on going but the boys really want to, and things have calmed down enough that no one's trying to burn down the school whenever he leaves these days, so eventually he figures it'll be interesting to see some of the Cang Qiong characters and should be safe enough if he keeps his disciples close.

They don't run into young Yue Qingyuan or Shen Qingqiu on the trip, but Wu Yanzi does show up and get killed, and SY only hears about it and assumes they just missed all that action. (WYZ just got caught by some senior cultivators who recognized him and killed him to avenge some disciples he murdered.) Nephew and Little Yue do meet young Liu Qingge, Shang Qinghua, Mu Qingfang, and Su Xiyan though! Which gives Shen Yuan the opportunity to tell them all (mostly Su Xiyan) that if they're ever in trouble near his school, they can come to him for help. Hint hint.

This open invitation ends up being accepted broadly by a lot of traveling cultivators after the conference, who from then on treat Shen Yuan's school like a free motel whenever they're passing through. Plenty aren't even people SY met, but it seems his statement was taken as a general one to fellow righteous cultivators all around! Luckily, this has some advantages. Shen Yuan has no qualms running off anyone who tries to take unfair advantage of him or especially his kids or staff, and no shame in conscripting anyone who is decent enough to help teach his students, even if it's nothing to do with cultivating, and somehow word gets around and people start bringing school supplies, medicine, food, or other useful things along with them as gifts to help repay the hospitality. Young Liu Qingge comes by a lot on his way to and from various quests, or even seems to just turn up randomly sometimes (he comes to challenge YQ and SJ to fights), and SY's just like "I guess this is happening now" and teaches him to recognize the early signs of qi deviation and advises strongly against meditating in caves.

At one point a young Shang Qinghua turns up in one of the spare rooms, very obviously hiding an ice demon. Shen Yuan again is just like "I guess this is happening now" and shelters them until Mobei Jun has recovered, and sends a message to Cang Qiong that one of their An Ding caravans was attacked and their disciple is recovering under his roof but isn't well enough to travel yet. Much less stressful situation for Airplane (who is desperately trying to figure out what he did to manifest SJ's benevolent uncle from somewhere???)

Su Xiyan seems like the only person they met at the Immortal Alliance Conference who doesn't turn up at their door in a state of emergency at some point.

A few years later, there is a big scandal involving her and the demon emperor. Su Xiyan disappears, Huan Hua Palace accuses Tianlang Jun of plotting against the righteous sects, and Shen Yuan is even invited to the meeting where they try and rally everyone to go kill Binghe's dad. Naturally, he declines to participate in the witch hunt, but the major sects agree to it. By luck (or narrative fortune) Shen Yuan comes across Zhuzhi Lang on his trip back home, and mentions the ambush and his distaste for it (not knowing who ZZL is). ZZL warns Tianlang Jun and the confrontation goes very differently, especially since there's no Yue Qingyuan wielding Xuan Su.

It doesn't go well for the sects involved. Huan Hua Palace gets decimated. The Old Palace Master gets killed. Shen Yuan is like uhhhh that's... whoops? Didn't Luo Binghe need that in the future?? Fuck.

But the sect isn't wiped out completely, they just take a massive beating. Some of their younger disciples end up leaving and turning up on Shen Yuan's doorstep, for some reason. The manor house is becoming too small to account for all of these foundlings! They have to expand. Though the expansions would be a stretch to term a "palace" they end up occupying a much larger chunk of territory, and even investing in farmland and some storehouses to help support the sect. That's still not really a sect, of course. Even if a lot of the business that would have normally gone to Huan Hua Palace starts coming to them instead. Once HHP is back on its feet the stream will probably dry out. Probably?

Zhuzhi Lang starts hanging around. He's actually looking for Su Xiyan or their baby, dead or alive and per Tianlang Jun's instructions, but he uses Shen Yuan's school as base camp for his kind of hopeless efforts to find any traces of them, while also looking for ways to try and repay Shen Yuan. All the kids are just like "oh great, another weird man has fallen in love with Shizun -- someone go run interference" about it.

Some years later, an older woman and her young son turn up. Shen Yuan's off on a quest at the time, so SJ receives them. As is standard procedure he gives the woman a job and places the boy in classes, after giving him the aptitude tests. The kid is cute and precocious, so SJ uses him to distract YQ while he himself sneaks out to go join LQG on a monster hunt (and claim the valuable parts of the beast's remains for himself), and neither SY nor ZZL notice anything until SY's going over the paperwork for stuff he missed while he was gone. Since he procrastinated, it takes him like a week to find out that Luo Binghe is finally under his roof. He's going over the admission form right when SJ arrives with The New Adorable Child to try and distract SY enough that SY will let him go on a solo hunt -- as far as being distracted goes, it is way more effective than even SJ anticipated.

Then he has to figure out how to let ZZL know, so that ZZL can let Tianlang Jun know, so that Luo Binghe will have more family than just his mom and more resources than just a shabby little not-sect! But even once he figures it out and sets up the dramatic reveal, TLJ is just like "great! so can he just stay with you? he's probably fine there" which... irritates SY.

SJ fully conscripts Luo Binghe as a minion in his many cons. He never lost his street kid conman tactics, although he now uses them less as a ruthless survival tool or weapon and more to just get things to go his own way. LBH has the face and disposition of a little angel, which SJ no longer can pull off as a full grown adult, so he fills a gap. LBH also knows full well what's going, especially since a lot of SJ's tactics involve throwing LBH at SY like a smoke bomb.

Luo Binghe inevitably still develops a big fat crush on SY, so this is fine by him. Especially when he gets older, he starts bringing SY tea and making him breakfast and running his errands until even SJ is like "wait a minute, this little brat's stealing my job!" and by then it's too late. Luo Binghe is SY's personal assistant, the disciple at conman puppydog eyes has surpassed the master! While SJ was busy being like "I'm going to trick this idiot into doing my chores" LBH was going "I'm going to trick this idiot into giving me his job".

SY takes too long to officially name his school so everyone calls it the Shen Sect, much to his embarrassment.

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #scum villain #long post #bingqiu

8K notes · View notes

tarotsoul · 16 days ago

Text

ghost in the wind — part three

summary: as feelings progress and truths unfold, you're left with a decision that could end your entire existence as you know it. the mother has a path for every soul, perhaps this was where yours was supposed to end.

warnings: swearing, mentions and brief descriptions of sexual abuse, consensual sexual themes, mentions of death and suicide.

word count: 5.8k

series masterlist

Feyre Archeron could never begin to imagine the pain and horror her older cousin had faced in the mortal lands. Rhysand hadn’t shared that image, hadn’t shared the memories he’d witnessed when he took some of that pain away from you.

She didn’t need her mate to share those visuals. Not when she felt every ounce of anguish through their bond. And every day since then, she had not been able to forget it.

Another two weeks had passed since your arrival, three in total of your being in the Night Court, and you were finally beginning to work through your trauma.

The offer had been there to find your own place of residence, to have that independence if you so wished. But after speaking with Feyre and Rhysand, after learning it was in fact Nesta who had imposed the leave Y/N be rule… you realised just how much you loved living in the House with your family.

Your friends.

So when you’d finally accepted Mor’s desperate pleas to take you shopping and fill your empty wardrobe…

“You’re going to need another dresser.”

You blinked, taking in the mess around you. Your entire closet was stuffed to the brim with dresses, blouses, sweaters, coats…

And the pile on your bed…there was no chance of those articles of clothing fitting in the closet too. Nesta was right, you definitely needed another dresser.

“Rhys is going to lose his shit when he finds out how much we spent.”

Your eyes widened at Nesta’s words, not quite picking up the teasing tone she spoke in. Mor shot her a look and threw a sweater at her face.

“She’s kidding,�� Mor reassured. “My dear cousin has more money than sense. This won’t have even made a dent in his wealth.”

A relief, but that guilt began to creep its way into the pit of your stomach nonetheless. You were ashamed to admit that while you had fun shopping with Mor and your cousin, you hadn’t even taken a moment to realise how much everything had cost.

Nesta threw herself onto your bed, right on top of the throng of clothes you needed to find a place for. “I’m thinking we raid Rhys’ wine cellar tonight…”

A gleaming smile radiated off Mor’s face in agreeance and they both turned to you with upraised brows, expectant.

You pursed your lips, an apologetic smile on your face. “I told Rhys and Feyre that I’d babysit Nyx tonight.”

Nesta huffed and threw herself back on the mattress again, clothes bouncing and crinkling as she did so. Mor raised another brow, as if that wasn’t a good enough excuse.

“So? I’ve gotten drunk while watching Nyx loads of times.”

Nesta seethed at her. “One, that’s my nephew and I never want to hear you doing that again. And two, Y/N’s tolerance to alcohol won’t be as strong as ours. Two glasses and she’d be borderline incapacitated.”

Despite the slight insult, a laugh bubbled up your throat at just how right she was. Because you’d never even drank a sip of wine in your life, and Nesta knew that.

“I’m surprised you don’t have plans with Azriel…”

Mor was prying, you knew that. But you had no control over the heat that made its way across your neck and face.

“We’re just friends.” It wasn’t a lie. You’d spent a lot of time together the past couple of weeks, and he was one of the only people you felt truly comfortable around.

Mor gave you a knowing look. “Mhm, tell that to his shadows.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Nesta scoffed, sitting up again. “Az’s shadows are basically an extension of himself.”

Mor hummed. “They don’t do anything unless Azriel commands it. Or sometimes, they’ll do something based on his emotions or thoughts. They’re so friendly with you because Azriel likes you.”

Your cheeks burned. You hadn’t realised his shadows touching you was a product of Azriel’s emotions. And the more you thought about it, there hadn’t been a time since you met him that they hadn’t touched you in some way.

You didn’t say that, though. No. Azriel clearly had no qualms about other people noticing, but that did not mean you were willing to gossip about it.

You did not need to allow silly fantasies to root their way in your mind. Azriel was your friend. And you were okay with him only wanting you as such.

Within an hour, Mor had disappeared to tend to her own duties and just as Nesta was about to leave for hers, she grabbed your wrist and motioned for you to look at her.

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

She didn’t need to say anything more. Those words were enough—more than enough. She saw you, she recognised everything you had been through and everything you did every day to overcome it.

I’m proud of you.

The last and only person to have ever told you that was your mother.

And because you saw her too, because you remembered fhe young mortal woman she was before her own struggles of turning Fae and adjusting to her new lifestyle, you found yourself saying, “I’m proud of you, too, Ness.”

Nyx had been wonderful to look after that night.

You’d gotten all the cuddles and boyish giggles, the beautiful little smiles and a few stinky diapers to go with it. You loved every moment with the little babe, and when Rhys and Feyre returned from their night off early in the morning, you offered to sit with him again whenever they needed it.

But despite how fulfilling and wonderful it had been, it had also hurt. You wondered if you’d ever be blessed with the opportunity to carry and birth your own child. Wondered if you’d ever even find someone to want you in that way.

Especially within Prythian.

It was another late night for you, though your reading sessions had taken you from the lounge to the library. And you no longer spent them alone.

Azriel sat on the couch opposite you, his nose deep in a book as you watched him. In the past week, you’d spent a lot of time together. It ranged from walks into the city to sitting and reading in the library until early hours of the morning.

You’d grown accustomed to his presence, his scent often able to calm any anxiety or qualms you felt. He had noticed, of course, he wasn’t a Spymaster for nothing. But Azriel did not mention the change in you whenever he was around.

He basked in it, in the way you appeared so much more comfortable with him. You weren’t afraid to speak up, to ask questions or acknowledge whatever was on your mind.

You were coming out of your shell and it warmed Azriel’s heart to know that he was somewhat of the cause for it.

“What does salacious mean?”

Azriel blinked repeatedly as your voice broke him from his thoughts. Salacious? His throat tightened. You’d often ask for definitions of things you were unsure on, sometimes even asking how to pronounce words you had never come across.

But salacious?

“Are you reading Nesta’s romance novels?” He quirked a brow.

Your lips involuntarily pouted at him, your own brows furrowing just slightly as you rested the open book back into your blanket-covered lap. “Yes. Why?”

Anxiety creeped its way into your stomach, rooting deep into your flesh from the inside out. Reminders of how this used to go flashed through your mind and suddenly, it felt like you were back in the village, back in the mortal lands and living with Rafe.

A tendril of darkness peaked at the corner of your vision and you focussed on it, watching it slowly dance across your knuckles and weave between your fingers in a calming manner.

Shadows. Azriel. Library. Velaris. Safe.

And just like that, the anxiety un-clawed its roots and crept away.

Azriel nodded ever so slightly to the book, knowing exactly what had just happened with you but acting as if he didn’t. “Salacious means…having inappropriate interest in sexual matters.”

There was no hiding the heat on your cheeks—the way it burned your soft skin. You tore your gaze from his as quickly as you could, unable to contain your slight shame and embarrassment.

But Azriel did not mind one bit.

Azriel had secrets. He supposed that being the Night Court’s Spymaster, it was to be expected. But these secrets were different from the others, something he kept locked tight in his mind for the past month.

And it wasn’t the secrets that had him moving closer and spending all of his time in the lower level of the House. No. That was very much you and your presence and whatever it was in your soul that called out to his.

He couldn’t stay away—though, it wasn’t like he even tried—for that pull was far too strong for even his willpower.

He had suspicions. Suspicions of a golden thread that started in his chest and ended in yours. He knew it was far fetched, knew he was only hurting himself by entertaining the complete insanity of the idea.

You were human. Mortal. And mortals didn’t have mates. He told himself so every day, and right after, like clockwork, he countered his own sound advice with the one thing that had been troubling him the most.

Because what mortal could plant and bloom a patch of tulips with nothing more than a thought and a touch. What mortal could speak so clearly to the earth and create life right before another’s eyes.

Despite the possible threat that could pose for his court and his family, Azriel had kept that tidbit of information to himself. Just for now. Just until he could make sense of it. Then, and only then, would he bring that information to light.

Because Azriel did not feel any ounce of danger or ill intent from you. He did not feel anything but warmth and intrigue and that godforsaken sensation when you grew excitable over something.

He couldn’t take that from you. Not when you were finally coming out of your shell, finally talking and laughing and going as far as joining him and Cassian for training twice a week.

“If sex makes you uncomfortable, there are other romance novels without that.”

Heat warmed your skin again. Shadows dared to intertwine with your fingers.

“No, it’s not that.” You played with his shadows, allowing them to caress your skin. “Sex doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I’ve just never had a good enough experience to understand much.”

He didn’t push, didn’t ask further questions. You wouldn’t be embarrassed for this, for something that was not your fault. You wouldn’t cower anymore, hide what you felt or thought. No longer would there be repercussions for speaking your mind.

So you spoke again.

“Rafe was the only person I’d ever…it’s just different to read it, to have it described as something enjoyable.”

Azriel’s knuckles turned white. Something enjoyable. He’d never experienced it to be anything but. His soul almost cleaved in two at the thought of what you’d endured.

Azriel dared to glance at you again. “Sex with the right person can be very enjoyable. It should be nothing but beautiful.”

He stiffened then, blood thumping in his ears. His shadows stilled, noticing the shift in your scent just as their master had. Sweet, all consuming arousal, and Azriel did not miss the way your thighs pressed together in impulse.

He swallowed thickly.

You broke his gaze, your own heart thumping sporadically as you stared at the pages on your lap. You couldn’t help your mind wandering to thoughts of him, of experiencing that with him. You knew it was wrong. So, so wrong.

“The thought of being intimate like that with someone new…” You couldn’t find the words to express the fear and anxiety that came with that thought.

Azriel listened intently, breathing deeply.

“I want to experience life the way it should be experienced. Not the way others have pushed it upon me.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his book on his knee. “You control your life now, nobody else. If you want something, despite how wrong that desire may feel at first, take it.”

You wondered then if he could see into your mind as Rhysand could. If he could feel that shift in the air. If he could smell it on you. That want and desire. You would not apologise for it. Not anymore.

“But if it feels wrong, is that not my guts way of warning me?” You countered.

Azriel smiled, just barely. His knuckles still white. “It’s your guts way of protecting you. Because you’ve never experienced anything beyond what others bestowed upon you.”

Gods above.

An ache fluttered in your chest, just above your breast and you absentmindedly rubbed at it, disrupting the neckline of your shirt. Azriel’s eyes squinted at the exposed skin, at the mark that adored your flesh.

“Are you hurt?” His tone was primal, protective.

You paused your movements, following his gaze. “Oh, no.” You pulled your shirt a little lower. “Just a birthmark.”

He needed to compose himself, needed to stop allowing his mind to wander about other areas of your concealed skin. He felt like nothing more than a big brute.

Your soft, airy giggle woke him from his daze and he looked over to find tendrils of darkness caressing any inch of your skin that they could. Gods, if he didn’t have a leash on his emotions around you, how could he control his damned shadows.

“It’s like they have a mind of their own.”

They didn’t. But he couldn’t correct you. Not without exposing the fact that they only fed off their masters emotions and desires. Not without exposing the fact that Azriel wished he was the one touching your skin and not his shadows.

He swallowed again, throat dry.

“Nesta told me that they’re an extension of yourself. That they only act if you will it.” You didn’t know why you said it, why you thought you had the right to speak that truth.

But you would not apologise, even as Azriel remained silent for a few moments. Partly out of shock, partly in awe. But that was another thing he would not speak aloud.

“Sometimes they can act on behalf of my emotions. My desires and wants.”

You dared to meet his honey eyes. “And that’s what you want?” You were breathless, a feeling in your stomach that you’d never once experienced before. “You want to touch me?”

Neither of you knew where this confidence had come from, but Azriel did not question it and you did not apologise.

He shouldn’t say it, shouldn’t repeat the words that echoed in his mind and soul and body. But, Gods…he could not seem to regain any semblance of control when he stared into your eyes. He could not lie to you, could not hide what he felt.

“I want to do a lot of things.” The admittance was barely audible, nothing more than a breath he’d been holding but you heard it all the same. As though you’d demanded the words out of him.

You couldn’t look away, even if you tried. Your entire being was encapsulated by him. Your chest heaved, legs ached. The shadows slowly left your shoulders and neck, returning to their previous position at your fingers.

“But above all, I want you to be comfortable. Happy.”

Something compelled you to stand, the shadows seemingly guiding you to their master as your book toppled to the couch. He watched with a hungry gaze, one full of faltering self-control.

If you want something, despite how wrong that desire may feel at first, take it.

Take it.

“I’m comfortable with you.”

The shadows moved like a breeze between you both, tugging you closer and closer. Nothing else mattered, not in that moment. Not when your soul felt like it was singing, like it was exactly where it longed to be.

Azriel stood slowly, towering above you once at his full height. You strained your neck to meet his gaze and he bent his to come closer. You could feel his breath dance with yours, could feel his hard chest press upon your soft one.

No part of you felt nervous, no part of you felt unworthy.

But Azriel…he didn’t know what to do. For weeks he’d been dreaming of this moment, dreaming of the taste of your lips, the touch of your skin. He slowly raised a scarred hand to caress your warm cheek, and you didn’t cower or shy away from his touch.

A test, perhaps. To see if you really could handle the intimacy of another male so soon after what you’d endured. You didn’t falter, didn’t break his gaze. He wanted you, more than he ever wanted anything else before.

“What you went through…”

“I don’t want to talk about what I went through,” you cut him off. “That was then, this is now. I don’t want to live in the past.”

Take it.

Your lips…so close to touching his.

The shadows swirled in delight, excitement.

Azriel knew this wouldn’t be just a kiss. This wouldn’t be meaningless. He felt it, in every part of him, he felt the way your entire being sang to his. He wanted to lay his soul bare before you.

He itched to brush your hair behind your ear, to hold you and taste you. But Rhysand’s voice echoed through his mind, beckoning him for his assistance. He closed his eyes, huffed out a breath.

“Rhys is calling for me.”

Azriel stepped away, removed his palm from your skin. You swallowed, stepping back and letting your eyes fixate on the rug beneath your feet. He cleared his throat, struggling to reign in those shadows of his.

“I’ll come to you tonight…we can talk then.”

But had Azriel waited just a few moments longer, had he given into the urge to brush your hair from your face, he would’ve noticed the slight point that had formed at the top of your ears.

Azriel didn’t meet you in your chambers that night. And you didn’t see him the next morning. Or the day after that.

Cassian had mentioned that Rhys sent him on a mission. That he would be back in a few days.

But something was wrong, you could feel it in every inch of your body. An ache that only got worse with every passing moment. You tried to ignore it, tried to relax in a hot bath with soothing lavender oils. Nothing relieved the pain. Nothing soothed the ache.

And when you left your bathroom and found your once round ears now pointed, and a trail of tulips following in your wake, your legs carried you toward the kitchen before you had a moment to consider it. Cassian and Nesta sat at the table, giggling over their breakfast when you stumbled toward them.

“What’s happening?” Your panicked tone caught their attention, eyes wide as they stood and took in what lay before them.

From the stone ground, moss and grass and flowers bloomed as though you stood in the middle of a field. Daisies and buttercups sprouted in your hair, roots of trees tangling around your limbs.

Everything was so loud yet muffled. Like every word was screamed in your ear but somehow underwater as Cassian called out frantically to Rhysand. Neither of them went near you, even when Rhys flew through the open balcony doors, Feyre in tow.

They looked at you with nothing less than concern and fear.

“What in the Gods is happening to me?!” You demanded.

Rhysand held Feyre back as she attempted to near you, his gaze locked on you as he assessed the situation. But it wasn’t the flowers or grass or roots that he watched. It was you, and the way your crescent-moon birthmark glowed something violet.

Rhys had known, had suspected something lay dormant within you. From that moment he entered your mind, when he gazed upon that luscious field that seemed to call to you with promises of something new.

He’d never witnessed such before. Not in the most powerful of Fae had he ever stumbled across that.

With a very careful step forward, his gaze demanded yours. Feyre had told him of your mother, of her death and your marriage to Rafe. And his voice was soft when he finally asked the question that had been on his mind ever since.

“What happened the night your mother died?”

The world went still, cold. Feyre whirled to him in protest.

“Rhys—“

“—it was a house fire.”

All eyes turned to you, to the patches of bloom that haltered their growth.

Rhysand took another step closer. “Where were you?”

“I—“

A heat unlike any other licked at your skin, waking you from your peaceful slumber. A heat so unwelcomed that you bolted upright in a sheen of your own sweat.

You could hear the wood of your cottage crackling under a burning flame, and smoke quickly infiltrated your room. You coughed, attempting to swat it away as you squinted in the darkness.

“Mama!?” You called out, panic stricken in your voice and body.

Fear began to cripple you, began to take away any sense of self preservation. You couldn’t leave your bed. Your door now engulfed in flames, you screamed.

“Help! Someone, please help!”

No one was coming. This was the end. You couldn’t move, couldn’t get to your beloved mother. A shrill cry, unlike anything you’d ever heard before, split your heart in two.

A scream of pure agony and fear tore through your throat, your eyes clenched shut as you gave your body over to the fire.

Only the next breath you breathed was clean and cold. And your sheets were no longer beneath you, no. Now you laid on the rich soil outside of your home, your fingers rooting themselves into the dirt.

You screamed and sobbed, unable to do anything but watch as the fire claimed your home and your mother.

You were sobbing, collapsed to the ground as you struggled to breathe at the memory.

Rhysand dared another step closer, kneeling before you now and his eyes held such sorrow, such remorse.

“Y/N…” he spoke softly. “Was your mother ever accused of being a witch?”

Nesta seethed, threatening. “Rhysand, that’s—“

“How do you know that?” Everything felt very, very still. No one should have known that. No one of these lands should have known that.

Rhys didn’t answer your question. And despite the sound of large wings breezing through the sky, you did not look away from the High Lord. Not even as Azriel rushed into the House and his heart sunk at what he bore.

“The day I entered your mind and took some of your pain away, I felt something. Something within you that I have never, in my 500 years of life, felt before.”

Azriel took a step closer. He should have said something when he first noticed the flowers. Because now, whatever power you had…it was consuming you.

“I’d like to try something,” Rhysand proposed.

You struggled to keep your breathing even. “What is it?”

Another step closer, a warm hand on yours.

“I’d like to enter your mind as far back as it will allow me. Just to see if I can find something.”

Violet eyes watched yours. “Find what?”

He squeezed your hand in reassurance. “Something to make sense of this.”

A moment of pause, to take in your surroundings. The flowers and soil had sprouted to cover the entire expanse of the lounge floor, your friends and cousins standing just beyond the brush of it.

Eyes flickered to something hazel. Azriel. He stood in the soil, flora coating his ankles and he struggled to keep a tight leash on the shadows that fought to reach you.

You looked back at Rhysand.

“Will it hurt?”

He shook his head. “No, not if you don’t resist.”

That suddenly sounded an awful lot like your past. Memories of Rafe pinning you to the bed—scolding, reprimanding, promising no pain if you didn’t resist.

This wasn’t like that, you had to remind yourself. You were safe. They only wanted to help. To understand.

Azriel stepped closer, ignoring the silent warning that Rhysand whispered into his mind. A scarred hand out held, you took it. And Rhysand took that moment of distraction to enter your mind.

The first memory he saw was one from just days before. You and Azriel reading in the library, the shadows that swirled your fingers and arms, the near-kiss that escalated into nothing.

He dug deeper. The next, of you and Azriel again, exploring the city where you left a trail of green and brown tulips in your wake on the embankment of the river.

Deeper and deeper, until the memories showed you living in the mortal lands. A blow to the face, to your stomach and your head. Rafe seething above you as he shouted and belittled you.

Deeper, to a memory of your husband pinning you to the mattress, of his body crushing yours as he stole everything you never offered.

Every memory Rhysand met, you re-lived them.

A little deeper and he was watching you at the Archeron household, helping Elain plant seeds, watching Feyre paint, reading with Nesta.

Deeper and deeper he went, passing the memories of the fire, of your mother, until he found exactly what he was looking for.

“She is my child too, Selenthia. You cannot keep her from me.” A voice you did not recognise. A memory you did not recall.

“For her protection, I will do what I must.” Selenthia seethed, coddling you closer to her chest. “No one can know what she is, or she’ll be hunted for the rest of her life.”

The unknown male huffed. He was beautiful. Tall and lean, strong and commanding. But there was something about him. Something not quite right.

“So you plan to lock her away for the rest of her life?”

Selenthia bared her teeth. “I would never lock my child away. She will live her life as a mortal. I won’t subject her to a life like mine or yours.”

A moment of silence. “You cannot hide her from what she is.” He spoke softer now, edging close to peer at you, his daughter.

“What do you plan to do when she first bleeds? When her ears point and her power grows—“

“That won’t happen.” There was no room for discussion in Selenthia’s voice. She placed a finger over your heart, a familiar violet glow permitting from her skin to yours.

“What are you doing?” That male’s voice, cold once more.

“I’m burying her power. So long as this wyrd remains on her skin, she’ll be safe.”

Selenthia pulled away, just enough to take a look at the mark that marred your skin. A mark two shades darker than the rest of your flesh, the shape of a crescent moon and no larger than a fingernail.

“There. Nothing more than a birthmark.”

Rhysand retreaded from your mind, panting and shaking. Tears streamed down his flushed face, your own skin staining with silver, too.

“What is it?” Nesta demanded, daring a step closer.

But those tulips and daisies and buttercups…the soil and grass and roots, they all began to sink into the ground until nothing but the florals in your hair remained.

“My mother…she…she was a witch. A healing earth witch. And my father—he…”

“Your father was Fae.” Azriel breathed, his eyes focused on the point of your ears that peeked through your hair and flowers.

“He was of the Night Court. A High Fae male.” Rhysand added gravely.

Azriel’s hold on the shadows loosened and he allowed them to caress you, comfort you. Your hand never left his.

You pulled away from Rhysand, clutching at your chest—at that crescent moon you always thought was a birthmark. Your mothers protection all along.

“When you crossed the wall into the Fae lands, your power tried to break through. It was your mothers mark that had been keeping it buried with you all these years.”

You dared a look at your cousins. But they looked at you with nothing but sorrow and anguish. No fear. They did not fear you, they did not pity you. In their eyes all you could see was longing. A longing for you to no longer live in such agony and hardships.

“Our mothers were sisters. Does that mean—“

“I don’t think so,” Rhysand cut you off. “If they held the magic you do, I believe their power would have shown by now. They were Made. So it’s possible the Cauldron could’ve interfered with it if that were the case.”

It was too much. All of it. Reliving those memories again, seeing your father… You couldn’t do this. Couldn’t have magic and powers. You could not be half Fae, half witch.

It would be easy to give up. It would be so easy to ignore it until it killed you. So easy to just let go of everything. But a pounding in your soul begged you not to. Begged you to fight with everything you had. Begged you to live.

“Burn the mark.”

All attention snapped to you, flickering from your face to the mark on your chest that finally stopped glowing.

“Are you insane?” Nesta seethed.

You looked at her. “I don’t think I’d be far off to guess that if I don’t burn this mark, this…power will consume me entirely. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be so lost because I have no idea who I am. This is who I am, whether I like it or not. I won’t run anymore.”

Feyre stepped closer, crouching to your level and taking your spare hand in hers. Azriel still held tight to the other. “If you wish to burn it, it will unleash whatever power you have at full force. You don’t have any training, any control over it.”

You felt sick to your stomach. “I don’t want to die, Fey.”

And that was enough to enrage Feyre in a way she’d never once felt before. “You are not going to die. Do you understand me?”

Azriel squeezed your hand, begging for you to look at him. You couldn’t. You couldn’t stomach the thought of him looking at you any different than he had three days ago.

“Rhys, fetch Madja. We will burn the mark in a controlled environment. Where any fallout can be contained.”

You shook your head, not willing to risk a single soul because of your selfish decision to live.

“No,” you said. “Drop me to the mountains and I’ll burn it myself.”

Nesta scoffed. “Oh, you are insane.”

You seethed at her. The first ounce of anger you’d truly shown. The first time you’d ever directed it at anyone but yourself.

“This isn’t your decision. I will not risk anyone. Azriel can take me to the mountains and you can all keep your distance. At least until it’s safe.”

Until it’s safe. As if you knew for certain you’d survive it. You truly weren’t sure you would. There was nothing more to discuss, your tone made that clear enough.

“Fly me, winnow me…whatever. Just do it now before I change my mind.”

Within a blink, your body was shivering and you were no longer in the House of Wind. Shadows encased your entire body, darkness swarming every inch of you. You said nothing as Azriel held you, nothing at all as he flew you across Velaris and toward the highest mountain just outside of the city.

Only when he landed, when he refused to remove his hold from you, did the darkness dissipate and hazel eyes gazed into yours.

“I’m staying with you.”

“No, you’re not. I won’t risk your life, Azriel.”

He set you to your feet, holding your hands now to keep you close. A plea of desperation swam in his eyes, his entire body yearning to take you and find another way to fix this.

“There is no other option. If I don’t burn this mark, I don’t know what my power might do. It might kill me, it might destroy this city. I cannot risk anyone’s life for mine.”

Azriel parted his lips to speak but you shook your head, squeezing his hands.

“If I don’t survive this—“

“Don’t.”

“Please, listen to me.” Silver lined your eyes, blurring your vision. “If I don’t survive this, I want you to know how special your friendship has been to me. How much I care for you, for your family.” A sob tore through your throat. “And I am so incredibly sorry for burdening you all in this way.”

You reached on the tips of your toes and pressed your lips to his. Warmth and love and the most raw emotion could be felt between you both. An apology for not having longer, a prayer that there would still be time.

A fuse lit within the pit of your stomach, in the pit of Azriel’s. Tears stained your lips, stained his. In that moment, you were one. Whole, as though you always should have been.

You pulled away first, forcing your hands from his hold. You took several steps back, blinking through the distorted vision and swiping away and evidence of the fear that crippled you.

A puff of violet darkness misted beside Azriel as Rhysand winnowed to the mountains. Pain flicked through his eyes, regret and the same sorrow you saw in your cousins.

You did not meet his gaze.

“Summon a fire.”

He did as you asked. And handed you a blade.

You did not grant them another look, did not give into the pleading in your mind to watch them leave. Or else you would’ve seen Rhysand drag Azriel off that mountain. You would’ve seen the anguish on the Shadowsingers face.

Alone. As you had been your whole life. Though the weeks spent in Velaris had given you a taste of what could’ve been. You’d treasure those memories in the Hereafter. Those and the precious ones of your late mother.

For they were all you had left.

You did not allow another tear to fall. Not as you hovered the blade over the flame, not as you tugged your shirt down and took a deep breath.

For if all you were ever meant to be was a ghost in the wind, you were content to know you’d reunite with your mother soon. Where you would no longer feel such pain.

You didn’t want to die. But if this was all the time you were fated to have, then so be it. Better you than someone else.

“Keep them safe.” A whisper to the winds, if they deigned to listen.

With a final breath, you pressed the scorching blade against the mark on your skin and the entirety of your captive power unleashed upon the mountain as your body allowed it to consume you. Until you saw and heard and felt nothing at all.

From below, the city shook, a thundering boom and a gust of aftershock and pelting mountain debris that blew the Inner Circle back.

Then there was silence.

And Azriel’s soul bellowed.

a/n: so a LOT happened in this chapter and there is still a lot more to happen, i'm hoping i can fit it into two parts but it may be stretched into three, we'll have to see!! i'm so grateful for all the love you guys have been giving this series and i am so excited for you to find out how it all ends!!

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated <3

tag list: @anna-reader-blog @bubybubsters @honethatty12 @angiieguevara @honk4emoboyz @e1jeyy @celestialgilb @rcarbo1 @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @judig92 @moonfawnx @historygeekqueen @idkitsem @horneybeach1 @apenasandorinha @thaynarajejheje @popcornlauncher @mrsjna @fuckingsimp4azriel @kk191327 @babypeapoddd @bluebries81 @secretlyhers @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mixheleee @be-your-coffee-pot @ly–canthrope @acoazlove @camilasstories @yesiamthatwierd @scoliobean @marigold-morelli @mellowmusings @dreaming-lis @prettylittlewrites @optimisticbabydreamer @halo-mystic @curtaincaramba @donnadiddadog @nocasdatsgay @hisonlykiwi @bookishbroadwaybish @peachyxlynch @hungryforbatboys @call-me-evangeline @stqrgirlies-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @pinksmellslikelove @demon-master-zero @more-a-then-i @svearehnn

#gitw #azriel #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel smut #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar x you #azriel oneshot #acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic

861 notes · View notes

sonotpattismith · 25 days ago

Text

but daddy I love him her!

pairing: billionaire's son!gojo x farmer's daughter!reader word count: 10.7k content: angst, fluff, romeo and juliet retelling, hurt w/ comfort, implications of abuse, smut, 18+

gojo fan-art by @3-aem

The grating sound of fake laughter would be ingrained in your mind for the remainder of the week, you were sure of it. In the midst of your zoned out staring and eavesdropping (though even that was becoming mind-numbing at this point), the tray of hordeurves balanced in your hands began to tip ever so slightly. It only caught your attention when one of the caviar topped… whatever it was started sliding to the right. With a strangled gasp, you quickly righted your posture, your spine now stiff as a board.

You cast your gaze across the banquet hall of high profile, and thus high nose individuals, their glittering jewelery and lavish gowns nearly blinding you, and you assured that no one had seen your slip up. With a quiet sigh of relief, you mustered a polite smile for the goach woman before you, slipping off her glove to grab an appetizer from your tray.

God, you needed this job, but for the love of all that is holy, you didn’t expect it to be this agonizing. In truth, it could have been worse. You could have found a temp job that really had you breaking your back as you were used to, so perhaps putting up with some horribly privileged elites for the few hours of their… gala or fundraising event or whatever excuse they used to justify such lavish get-togethers, wasn’t as bad as you were making it out to be.

You didn’t get details of the event you’d be servicing until just an hour prior to its beginning when you were given a run down about the nature of the event as well as the importance of the clientele. Of course, you had already heard of the Gojo family long before your temporary manager explained them to you with sweat dripping anxiously down his forehead. They were the business tycoons of Tokyo, owning half the real estate that you’d likely ever stepped foot in in this city.

There was a slight unease in your stomach at the thought of being entrusted to work at an event so… high profile, but your subtle irritation for the gall of it all trumped that anxiety tenfold. Not only had you had a good understanding of who the family was due to good ole’ word of mouth, but it also didn’t help that they had been singlehandedly making your father’s life a living hell for the past few years.

Sure, they weren’t intentionally targeting the man, but as their franchises and real estate continued blossoming throughout the city, there were growing pressures for your father to sell his farmland with the intention of their company building more fucking skyscrapers filled with law firms or IV transfusion spas or whatever the hell it was that these rich people filled their pockets with. He had stayed resolute in his intention to keep the farm, but you knew the rising property taxes that came along with that Gojo family price tag popping up all around him was making it difficult for him to keep it afloat.

Which is precisely why you were currently pretending not to be creeped out by the middle-aged man leering at you from your peripheral— you really needed this money.

Clearing your throat, a wobbly smile graced your lips as you held out the tray to him in hopes that it was the caviar he was eyeing and not your… hordeurves. Perhaps that was the wrong move to make though, because he was taking one and staying with a look on his face that said he had an offer that you just wouldn’t be able to refuse.

“You do private events, sweetheart?”

You had half a mind to tell him that this was a private event, but the Rolex on his wrist told you that he had too much money to piss off.

“I-I’m contracted by the catering company, sir.” You explained with your eyes facing forward, gulping down the heartbeat that had manifested in your throat at the way he chuckled patronizingly and leaned against the wall you were standing by. “I work the events that they send me to.”

“Alright then, better question,” He grinned connivingly as he absentmindedly straightened the gold cufflinks at his wrists. “Can I contract you for a private event?”

Any hope of rebuttal got stuck in your throat, caught between your burning desire to defend yourself and the even greater need for this job to go well.

“I’m pretty sure your three ex-wives would agree that contracts aren’t really your strong suit, wouldn’t you say, Junto?”

Disguising your near instantaneous chortle as a cough, you quickly turned your head away from Junto and your knight in… Prada? Lord knows you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. The sleezeball scoffed, but it seemed he too felt the waves of dominating energy coming from the younger man that dared challenge him, because that scoff quickly turned into a strictly rehearsed laugh.

“You always did have a mouth on you, didn’t you, kid?” He gritted through his fake smile as he patted said kid on the back, who only offered a mocking aw, shucks in return. “You stay outta trouble, huh?”

The man promptly removed himself from the situation lest he be torn apart anymore by someone who appeared less than half his age. Biting at your bottom lip, you weren’t sure if it would be appropriate to acknowledge what you had just witnessed, so you opted to face forward, trying to ignore the scent of the woodsy cologne that just wafted an air far too expensive for you to even be breathing in. Despite your careful composure, you could feel his eyes on the side of your head.

“What a fuckin’ weirdo, amaright?” He broke the silence for you, a smug smile stretching across his lips when you failed to contain your laughter that time around.

“Oh my god, I thought he would catch fire standing so close to the candles with so much gel in his hair.” You whisper-shouted, absolutely reeling to get it off your chest after standing in silence for so long.

Your savior chortled next to you, hunching over himself ever-so-slightly as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his perfectly-tailored suit. Finally daring to look his way, you were almost knocked off your balance for the second time that night as you took in his striking, white hair and icy-blue eyes that seemed to twinkle supernaturally under the candlelight’s flicker. He looked to be your age, and you figured he was the son of one of these bigshots that was dragged here for the sake of networking.

“Maybe we should get him back over here then. We need something to liven this place up— a grease fire would do nicely.” He teased while straightening his posture once again to look out amongst the sea of people as you giggled along beside him.

“Thank you, by the way.” You expressed sincerely once your laughter had died down. “It was kind of an awkward position he was putting me in.”

The man only hummed, observing you with a mischievous glint in his other-worldly eyes that had you thinking the creep was onto something when he told him to stay out of trouble.

“Wanna know how you can thank me?” You felt a premature flush falling over your cheeks as he leaned down to be within your earshot. “Sneak me a piece of the cake that’s in the back, yeah?”

At once, the tension in your shoulders dissipated, and you smiled apologetically at him.

“I can’t cut the cake until the hosts give their speech.”

“Ah, see, therein lies my problem because that is assuming I would be staying for the entirety of this snoozefest.” He was promptly taking the tray from your arms and blindly handing it off to another unsuspecting worker who was passing by. “C’mon, I just want a little something sweet before I dip out of here. Please?”

Maybe it was the fact that you felt partially indebted to him, or maybe it was that irresistible pout he was directing your way, or, most likely, the fact that he was obscenely attractive. Whichever it was had you slipping into the kitchen where the lavish cake was waiting atop the counter, peeking around to assure the coast was clear before you grabbed a knife. With an unbelieving shake of your head, you turned it around so as to cut from the back and not make it so obvious.

Your heart was thumping wildly against your white-button down-clad chest as you promptly maneuvered it back to its proper positioning, grabbing a spoon before you made a beeline toward the hallway where he said he’d be waiting. Sure enough, there he was, just barely illuminated by the candle-lit lanterns hanging in the grand hallway as he leaned against the wall.

“Hah! You’re a total badass!” He cackled shortly as he pushed himself off the wall. Surveying the plate in your hand, his brows furrowed suddenly. “Just one?”

You shifted nervously on your feet, the corners of your lips twitching in uncertainty.

“You… wanted two?”

“No, where’s yours?” The question fell from his perfectly pink lips as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. With the reemergence of that incriminating pout, he presented the hand that had since been hiding behind his back. In it, was a bottle of champagne that looked like it cost more than what you were even getting paid for this stupid event. “Brought us some bubbly and everything— you know what, it’s fine. I can share just this once.”

At once, he was leading you by your free arm down the dim hallway until he reached an alcove that would be perfectly disguised to anyone looking straight down the hall.

“Wait, wait, I can’t be here—”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” You scoffed in bitter amusement at his oblivion as he sat crisscrossed against the wall. “Because I could lose my job, that’s why not.”

“Oh, please,” He waved you off as he nodded toward the spot beside him. Slowly, you begrudgingly took a seat next to him. “You’re not gonna lose your job.”

With a resignated sigh, you set the plate down on the floor before him.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Oh the—” He flinched back as he popped the top off the champagne, the abrupt rupture making you squeal. “—surest. What are you doing working this dick-measuring competition anyway?”

You tried not to get distracted by the way his lips settled eagerly around the cake-filled spoon, the smallest of moans leaving him in the process before he passed the plate to you.

“Need a new laptop for school.” You explained, though you knew it was only a fraction of the story, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t understand your financial struggles as he allowed drops of champagne to spill onto his freshly-pressed suit pants. Despite your better judgement, you took a bite from the cake as well. “Too many open coffee cups next to electronics got me too confident. So, I’m stuck as the Gojo family mule for the night.”

He huffed out a laugh through a mouthful of champagne. You two soon swapped, him taking the cake and you grabbing at the neck of the bottle. Leaning your head back against the wall, you tilted your head to look at him.

“You know, I heard this whole thing was actually a networking thing for their son.” You rambled, the slightest hint of alcohol clearly making you way too comfortable with this stranger. He only hummed beside you, the faintest of amused smiles on his handsome face. “Heard he’s a real disaster, too.”

“I heard he showed up an hour late.”

“Of course he did.” You snorted softly with a shake of your head. “If I had half the opportunities that dude had—”

“What would you do?”

You fell silent for a moment, smushing some icing around the delicate, china plate. In your peripheral, you saw the small, shiny triangle shaped logo at the base of his black tie, and it once again reminded you that even this man, as relatable as he might appear to you hiding from the party to stuff his face with cake and champagne, wouldn’t understand the petty issues of the working class.

“I wouldn’t be passing out caviar to a bunch of billionaires— that’s for sure.”

“Satoru!”

At once, the man was snatching the plate from your hand, juggling it along with the champagne bottle between his long fingers.

“That’d be my queue.” He quipped, glancing down at your name tag before testing how it sounded on his lips. You blinked owlishly at him, because you could have sworn that Satoru was the name of— “Sorry, you know me— real disaster.” He winked before swiping at the leftover icing at the edge of your parted lips and licking it from his thumb. “Try not to get propositioned while I’m gone!”

You watched with unreserved horror as he stumbled to his feet to race up the hall before anyone could come down to find you. In the quiet solitude of the secluded hallway, you could still just barely hear the host of the event introducing his son with some heartfelt speech about how proud he was of him that was most definitely written by someone else. A churning sense of mortification settled in your stomach as you looked up at the portrait on the wall behind you of the Gojos.

The Gojos and their son.

The Gojos and their white-haired, blue-eyed son.

Oh, you were so losing your job.

It seemed as though you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs no matter how hard you tried as you stood with the rest of the contracted wait staff for a final rundown of how service went overall that night.

Following Satoru’s abrupt departure, you begged a coworker to switch roles with you for the night— a change she was more than happy to oblige given she was on dishwashing duty, but you were just eager to be avoiding any possibile run-ins with the man you had just shit-talked right to his face. It was the only reason you made it through the night without vomiting, you were sure. Why had you opened your stupid mouth?

A call of your name pulled you from your self-depricating thoughts, and you lifted your head to meet the gaze of your manager. Through the blood rushing in your ears, his words sounded muffled to you as he handed you an envelope. Blinking a few times, you shook your head and called out to him just as he had moved onto the next worker.

“Sorry— what did you say this was for?”

“Long night, huh?” He chuckled at your supposed sluggishness. “One of the guests wanted to give you an additional tip. Guess you left an impression.”

You gulped, looking down at the envelope with the slightest of trembles in your fingers. It burned a hole in your pocket the entire drive home, and you were more so than usual frustrated at your run-down truck’s pathetic engine. It wasn’t until you had showered, cooled your nervous system even in the slightest, and gotten into your bed that you worked up the courage to open it. Flinching back as if it might explode in your face, you slowly tore it open.

“Holy shit.” You breathed out, clutching the envelope closer to you to inspect the stack of bills glaring back at you. Frantically thumbing through them— your head started to spin after you hit five-hundred. “He’s insane. Oh my god, he’s insane.”

Pulling out the wad of money, a small napkin you recognized as one you were offering the guests with the horderves fell onto your mattress. You snatched it up, frenzied eyes quickly skimming the sloppy penmanship.

Thanks again for the cake, and try to keep your coffee off of your new laptop.

— Satoru ‘Real Disaster’ Gojo

The money, along with the note, sat untouched at the bottom of your bag for nearly a week. It felt so unbelievably wrong to use it, but you weren’t exactly sure what to do with the thousand dollars you’d received in exchange for a slice of cake and an insult. So, it remained there as you pretended to forget its existence, continuing to work your actual job in the meantime as though you didn’t already now have more than enough for a new laptop.

It’s where you found yourself now, mindlessly reading over the notes from your previous class as you sat at the front desk of your campus library. Your days were typically slow like this, especially since it wasn’t anywhere near finals season, which is about the only time of semester you would see this place bustling with students. There were no complaints from you though, as you were able to study and get homework done so you’d be free to help your dad out around the farm when you were home.

The writer’s block you were suffering from was just on the cusp of escaping you as you finally began typing out an opening paragraph for the marketing paper you had been stuck on for nearly an hour. As if the universe was dead set on mocking your academic struggles, a student strolled up to your desk just as your fingers began moving across the keyboard on the library computer. With a barely disguised sigh of frustration, you looked up to offer your services, but your typical greeting died in your throat.

He looked different than when you had last seen him— out of his Prada suit and instead donning a university crewneck as he scrolled purposefully through his phone with furrowed brows of concentration. Satoru Gojo; maybe it wasn’t such a shock that he attended the same university as you, given it was what some would call a ‘prestigious’ university that you were only lucky enough to attend due to the scholarship you grinded your ass off to qualify for each semester.

There was a subtle hitch in your breath as he hummed triumphantly, zooming into something on his phone before leaning over the counter to show you. You hoped that perhaps he would have forgotten all about you, and you redirected your attention to the book he was showing you.

“Do you know if you carry this book? I ordered it for class, but it still hasn’t—”

You felt your stomach practically drop through your ass and onto the floor below you when he abruptly cut himself off. Daring to glance up from his phone, you found those intensely stunning eyes wide and trained on you. A slow smile spread across his lips, and the shock in his eyes morphed into that wicked mischievousness that seemed to come so naturally to him.

“Well that dinosaur certainly doesn’t look like a new laptop to me.” He quipped, clicking his phone shut to lean against the counter on his elbows. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“That’s because I didn’t buy a new laptop.” You explained with burning cheeks, reaching for the bag you had stored under the desk. Fishing around at the bottom of it, you procured the envelope that had been lingering in your possession for a week. You slid it over to him. “Nevermind the fact that I could have gotten three laptops with that kind of money.”

Gojo backed away from the envelope as though it might burn him to touch it, raising his hands defensively.

“So, I figured you could get a nice one. Sue me—”

“I’m not taking your money, Gojo.”

“Ouch— not the family name, princess! You wound me.” He clutched theatrically at his chest before letting his arms fall beside him with an aggravatingly charming smirk. Huffing out an indignant sigh, you moved to search the system for the book he had shown you.

“We’re not friendly enough for the first name basis, and we’re certainly not friendly enough that I’d accept this kind of money from you.” You emphasized with a few pointed clicks of your mouse before turning to face him once again. “That book is in the third row to your left.”

“Yeah?” He hummed, eyes assessing you pensively. The ever present smirk on his lips never faltered. “And what would you have done with it if you didn’t run into me?”

Pursing your lips, you narrowed your eyes at him in challenge, but it was one he was more than prepared to take on as he tilted his head mockingly.

“Who knows, I’m partial to animals— maybe a local shelter would have needed it more than me.”

“How very noble of you.”

“Well, you’re not the only one around here drawn to philanthropy.” Leaning in until he could feel your breath fanning against his nose, you smiled in feigned charm. “Of course, my efforts wouldn’t be contributing to a tax write-off, but giving is giving, right?”

But your biting accusations didn’t deter him, if anything, that fierce tongue of yours only intrigued him more after so long of everyone in his life blindly agreeing with him. You wondered if he could hear the way your heart was racing against your chest, because it was just your luck that the arrogant son of the family fucking your dad’s life over was breathtakingly handsome. He hummed softly, picking up the envelope from the counter to pat it teasingly onto your nose.

“And that’s what you thought I was doing? Charity work?”

“Well you certainly weren’t doing it because I left any sort of stellar impression.” The confidence in your tone faltered as you recalled that night, a flush falling over your cheeks. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

With a mockingly wistful sigh, he turned around, leaning back on his elbows against the counter as he tilted his head back to look at you.

“Well, I could hardly blame you. You don’t know me, after all.” His anticipatory tone told you that he was plotting something in that pretty, privileged head of his. “And that’s our problem, isn’t it? You don’t know me, I don’t know you— you said it yourself, princess. Can’t accept this kind of money from a stranger.”

You didn’t respond, not wanting to encourage whatever nonsense he was currently conjuring up. Standing from your desk, you walked around the counter and headed down toward the rows of books. Gojo was hot on your heels though, trailing behind you as he leaned down to use his ‘inside voice’.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to say, ‘Well what do you suggest then, Satoru?’.” His pitched impression of you almost made you smile, but, again, you didn’t want to egg him on. Instead, you headed down your intended row and began skimming the books as he leaned against the shelf. “Well, I’m so glad you asked, because I happen to be in need of a date for my lovely family’s… hah, whaddya’ know— charity gala this weekend.”

“And this concerns me how?”

“What better way to get to know one another than spending a few hours pretending to like each other, huh?”

“You’re delusional, Gojo.” You shook your head with an incredulous smile. Finally spotting the book he had shown you, you pulled it from the shelf and shoved it toward his chest. “Not happening.”

“C’mon, it’s a win-win for both of us. I get a night without my parents on my ass introducing me to every poor girl they sink their claws into, and you can keep the money knowing it was a gift from a friend.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, a bemused smirk taking over your features as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Let me get this straight.” You began with a pop of your hip, leaning back on the shelf across from him. “Satoru Gojo is having to rent a girlfriend for the night. Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Weeell, if you put it that way, that would make you a—” He quickly shut his mouth upon seeing the icy glare you shot his way, daring him to finish that sentence. With a subtle fear hidden behind those striking eyes, he mustered a sweet smile. “—a fool to not take me up on such a kick-ass offer.”

“Nice save.” You muttered with a roll of your eyes, pushing off the wall to get back to work. He stepped forward though, placing his arms on either side of the shelves by your head and effectively trapping you in. That cologne that you remember driving you crazy all those nights ago was once again making your head spin, and you struggled to find the courage to look him in the eyes.

“Live a little— it’ll be fun. Think of it as… as prom!” His eyes widened to emphasize his point.

“I went to prom— could’ve gone without it.” You whispered with a challenging glare.

“That’s cause I wasn’t your date.” He shrugged obviously, and you were beginning to see how it was that Satoru Gojo always seemed to get his way. “I’ll even steal ya’ your own piece of cake this time.”

This had you turning your head to the side to hide your tickled smile, shaking your head as he laughed triumphantly at the sound.

“Atta girl! Now come on and put your number in my phone before I retract my offer.”

“Don’t push it, Gojo.”

“Right— yes, ma’am.”

The two of you didn’t message much in the days leading up to the event. When you did, it was mainly Satoru not-so-subtly checking in to assure that you hadn’t changed your mind. He let you know that he’d pick you up, but a ride was the last thing you were worried about as you surveyed your appearance in the mirror.

Formal events hadn’t ever exactly been your scene, given the more modest living conditions that you had grown up in. You could only pray that you weren’t embarrassing yourself as you smoothed your hands down your old prom dress that you had miraculously managed to squeeze yourself back into. It was the only formal dress you owned, the glittering stone details on the bodice contrasting nicely against the noir, silk fabric. While it looked nice enough, you were sure you’d have trouble breathing the rest of the night, already fantasizing about how exhilarating it’d be to take it off after everything was said and done.

With an anxious sigh, you leaned forward to carefully color in your lips. You gave yourself one last look over in the mirror before leaving your bedroom. A subtle cringe shook your frame as your heels clacked noisily against the wood floor. The last thing you wanted was to be questioned anymore by your father than you had already been when he saw you poking through your mom’s old jewelery box. You had played it off as a fundraising event your university was hosting, but you weren’t sure that he was entirely convinced.

There was a firm knock at the front door that had you rolling your eyes in exasperation, because you had told him to just text you when he got here. You were grateful that it seemed as though your dad was still out and not here to witness Satoru Gojo of all people picking his daughter up as a date. With a final huff of self-encouragement, you pulled the door open.

Now, he had had a line prepared about the hell of a place you got here, what with all the acres of land extending out the back of the property, but his lazy joke dissipated from his mind at the sight of you all done up for him. You looked so different than the last times that he’d seen you, and it wasn’t just that your eyes were shimmering with intricately placed shadows, or that your dress hugged your frame sinfully.

No, it was the light in your eyes that had previously been overshadowed by the weight of your responsibilities each time you’d seen him. Gone was that lingering exhaustion that dared taint your features, and in its place was a hopeful glimmer that knocked the wind from him as you directed it up at him with fluttering lashes.

He no longer felt like the young-adult he had grown to be, resembling more so a fumbling teenage boy picking up the homecoming date that was far out of his league. Anxiously, fiddling with the knot of his tie as if it was to blame for his sudden labored breathing, he chuckled half-heartedly.

“You clean up nice for someone who didn’t even want to come in the first place.” Gojo quipped as he bowed theatrically with an outstretched hand.

“Well I sure hope I look the part with how much I’m charging you.” The wink you sent him as you placed your hand in his nearly had him falling to his knees, and he wondered how he would survive the remainder of the night without embarrassing himself.

Nearly the entire drive was dedicated to him giving you the rundown of the event— who would be there, who he was pointedly trying to avoid, the sequence of events for the coming night. It all somehow snowballed into him babbling about the reality show worthy fueds and shambled love lives of the city's most elite names. You wanted to keep up, but Lord could this boy talk.

Even with all his rambling, nothing could have prepared you for the hundreds of scrutinizing eyes that fell upon you as soon as you entered on the arm of the hosts’ infamously single son. There were already a myriad of guests here, drinks in everyone’s hands and people on the dance floor.

“Why do I get the vibe that we’re disgustingly late?” You muttered through a polite smile, your hand curling tighter around Satoru’s bicep as you two continued making your way in.

“Pfft, if they want me to stay till it ends, I sure as hell ain’t coming right when it starts.” He retorted with a scoff before leaning down to your ear-shot. “Learn the ways of the disastrous prodigal son, princess.”

There wasn’t a chance in hell that he was ever going to let you live that one down.

“Ooo, and there are those people I was avoiding. Remember the ones with the twin daughters— come dance with me.” You could barely keep up with his rapid fire, and you wouldn’t have the chance to ask him to reiterate because he was moving toward the center of the room like a man on a mission, because he was one, the mission being to get through this thing unscathed.

“Wait, Gojo, I don’t know how to dance.” You whispered-shouted as you tried to desperately dig your heels into the ground, but he was stronger than you and a hell of a lot more determined.

“Just stand there and pretend to be in love with me— I’ll do the rest.” He winked, the arm you had yourself wrapped around swooping down to scoop you against him with an urging hand on the small of your back. “Hand on the shoulder— atta girl.”

Through your flustered blush, you glared indignantly at his patronizing. He tutted softly, his other hand dancing down the silken skin of your arm to grasp at yours.

“That look isn’t screaming ‘love sick’.” Gojo informed through an amused smile. Before you could manage to huff out a response, he had spun around to dip you dramatically, the abrupt motion emitting a delighted squeal from you, much to his satisfaction. “There it is— keep looking at me like that. Talk to me— really sell it.”

You weren’t sure how he did it— how his effortless charm managed to break through even the strongest of resentments you held toward that last name of his. It was all around you though, enveloping you in his orbit and blanketing you in a warmth you were sure was radiating right off your incandescent cheeks. As you stared at the flickers of indigo that seemed to speckle throughout his otherwise icy irises, you nearly forgot what you were supposed to be doing.

“Right, um…” Your eyes fluttered dramatically as you racked your mind for anything to say to him. The dimple in his right cheek that winked at you with each of his ravishing smirks made it difficult for you to stay on track. “Physics.”

“Physics?” He repeated with unconcealed mirth, and you nodded.

“The book you checked out the other day— it was a physics book.” He hummed affirmatively as if questioning where the hell you were going with this. Truthfully though, he was too lost in the flustered twitching of your plush lips to care if any of what you were saying actually made any real sense. From so close, he could see the sun-spots lining your nose and cheeks like the most breathtaking of constellations. “It just surprised me. It’s not a required class for business majors.”

“It’s not, and I—” He paused his explanation to twirl you under his arm, reveling in the enraptured smile that graced your face as he pulled you back in. “—am not a business major.”

“Oh? The prodigal son dares not follow in his father’s footsteps? How scandalous.” There was an airy giggle lingering in your tone that fell upon his ears like the most harmonious of symphonies. “And what, pray tell, is the alternative that has led his little lamb astray?”

Those curved lips of his parted to indulge your curiosity, but the announcement that dinner would be served momentarily had a groan slipping past them instead. Just as he moved to guide you to the respective table with a hand on the small of your back, you tugged at his sleeve.

“Wait, I have to pee.” You whispered, hoping the guests bustling around you didn’t hear it.

“Oh— yeah, there’s a bathroom to the right of the entrance.”

He was about to walk away, leave you to do your business when you clutched tighter at his sleeve. Looking down at you with furrowed brows, you stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes that said please don’t leave me.

You heard Gojo’s head bumping impatiently against the door of the restroom as you managed to wrangle the zipper of your dress down. There was an embarrassingly long attempt of trying to simply lift the gown up as would have been far easier, but it was proven difficult with the stubbornly form fitting fabric. Now though, as the joints in your shoulders flexed painfully in an attempt to zip it back up, you realized you had an even bigger dilemma.

Mortified beads of sweat began lining your forehead as you panted at your reflection in the mirror, your zipper still barely halfway up your back.

“Did you fall in or something?” You heard him call out from outside the door, only making your heart pound more mercilessly against your chest.

“I-I’m fine! I’ll be right out.” But your voice was trembling ever so slightly in the midst of your subtle panic, and it made him push off the door, leaning in closer with furrowed brows.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” You stammered breathlessly, but you were rapidly coming to the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this without some help. Fighting back tears of frustration, you leaned your forehead against the door. “I— I’m just kind of… stuck.”

“Stuck?” The doorknob jiggled with his attempt to get in. “Open the door.”

The already stuffy air of the restroom seemed to grow ten degrees warmer in tandem with your crippling embarrassment as you hyped yourself up. Holding up the front of your dress, you timidly cracked the door open. Gojo was quickly shoving his face in through the small opening, assessing the situation with an incredulous expression. He almost laughed, but it died in his throat upon seeing your panicked face.

“Okay, alright, calm down. Let me in.” You moved back as he slipped inside.

“I-I can’t get it back up.”

“You’re fine. Turn around and let me try.” Gojo steadied his hands on your shoulders as you turned your back to face him. A brief sigh of relief fell from your lips at the sound of the zipper rolling up, but it halted midway. He paused, blinking a few times before attempting to tug it up again. “Okay— um…”

“Oh my god.”

“No, no, it’s— it’s fine.” But the laughter he was previously suppressing began to boil over to the surface. It came out as a controlled choke in his attempt to push it down, but you still heard it.

“It’s not funny!”

“I’m not laughing!”

“You’re laughing at me!”

His teeth were sinking mercilessly into his bottom lip to avoid pissing you off anymore, but the wolfish grin on his face was making it increasingly difficult. Falling forward until his forehead laid against your shoulder, he shook his head with a boyish cackle.

“Ohhh, you’ve made this night so much more entertaining for me.” He sighed wistfully before pushing you forward to dramatically haul his foot onto the toilet seat as if to brace himself. “Alright, deeep breath for me, let’s go.”

In spite of your humiliation, you too couldn’t help but begin giggling nervously at the absurdity of the situation. Gulping in a deep breath, you straightened your posture as stiff as you could as a theatrical grunt bubbled in his chest with his firm tug. The blasted zipper finally slid up the remainder of your back, leaving you both hollering in relief.

“See?” Satoru was clutching onto your arms lest you double over with the force of your belly laughs. “You just needed a big, strong— ”

“Satoru?”

Both your heads shot up to look at the now open door, and the woman you recognized as his mother now stood at the entrance with a less than impressed expression on her stern face. You could have strangled him for not bothering to even close the door, let alone lock it.

Mortified wouldn’t be a strong enough word.

Your fingers dug anxiously into your thighs as you sat at the painstakingly quiet table, sat right across from the woman who had just witnessed her son wrangling you back into your dress in the event’s restroom. At the very least, it seemed Satoru wasn’t fairing any better, staring down at his place setting as he took an absentminded sip of his wine. You had never seen him so… serious before. Though you had only known him briefly, it felt like a completely different man sitting next to you.

“So, I assume you two met at university?” His father’s stoic voice was finally the one to break the tension that he wasn’t even sure the reason of in the first place.

Glancing up with a fluttering gaze, you found the man’s familiarly striking blue eyes directed at you.

“Um, yes. We attend the same university.” You thought it best to not specify that that wasn’t where you two met, already having made an ill impression on his mother as it was.

“Oh? And what are you studying?” His mother opened her mouth for the first time since redirecting the both of you to the table. You looked up as the wait staff set a salad in front of you, though you felt far too anxious to eat right now.

“My major is in business.” You informed, picking up your fork in an attempt to at least look like you weren’t internally short-circuiting. There was a soft nudge on your thigh as Satoru subtly bumped his knee against you to get your attention. Peering over, you noted with flushed cheeks that he was tapping at the smaller fork at your placement, praying his parents didn’t make a comment to embarrass you any further. Gulping harshly, you moved to correct your mistake.

“Business, huh?” His father’s face seemed to light up marginally at your answer, and he looked toward his son pointedly. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into Satoru then. He’s been so stubborn about this… what is it again?”

You watched from your peripheral as his hand clenched at his silverware in response to his father’s not-so-subtle jab.

“Quantum physics.” He responded bluntly, stabbing at the tomato on his plate a bit more aggressively than necessary.

It was becoming clear to you the reason for his abrupt switch in temperament. You had only spent all of ten minutes sat with his parents, and it was evident how they seemed to drain that spark that was usually so easily present in his eyes. His response made your lips part slightly in astonishment. It’s not that you thought he was stupid, but you certainly had never pegged him as the type disciplined enough for such a rigorous field.

“Quantum physics!” His dad held his hand out with a bitter laugh before looking back at you. “Now what do you suppose he is going to get out of studying quantum physics that will be more fruitful than if he stayed within the family business?”

You wanted to defend him, already preparing a curt but respectful response about how he’d get more out of studying something he was passionate about, but the older Gojo continued talking.

“Is that what you’re doing?” He asked you as he took a sip of his wine. “Studying to stay within a family business?”

The mention of your family spilling from the lips of the very man responsible for ninety percent of their struggles made your jaw clench. Perhaps it was the forlorn expression that had overtaken Satoru’s once lively face that gave you the courage to not simply brush it under the rug.

“Actually, I’m studying business in hopes of buying my father’s farm from him in the future.” You clarified with your lips set in a firm line. Beside you, Satoru’s head slowly turned to face you as it seemed he had come to the realization faster than his parents were.

“A farm?” His dad scoffed with an amused smile. “That’s nonsense. No sense in wasting your efforts on a farm. You should hope to do better than your parents did, don’t you think? I certainly hope the same for my son.”

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, cluching at the napkin in your lap.

“Dad, that’s—”

“Better?” You laughed bitterly, cutting off whatever attempt Gojo was going to make to defend you. “Perhaps, sir, my father’s farm would be doing better if your company wasn’t driving him off his own land.”

It seemed that the man was finally putting two and two together, your last name falling from his lips in recognition.

“I see what this is about.” He shook his head with a patronizing smile, wiping at his mouth with the stark white napkin. “Sweetheart, this is just the way society progresses. City’s grow, and—”

“As does your bank account, I’m assuming.” You bit back with a raised brow. “What progresses society is people who actually give a shit about that society.”

“A farmer’s mouth too to match her father’s. Boy, son, do you know how to pick them.”

“Dad! ” Satoru growled out in warning as his silverware clattered down onto his plate, and you weren’t sure if the flush in his cheeks was from anger or humiliation.

“Don’t bother.” You abruptly stood from your seat, hoping desperately that you could hold your mortified tears back long enough to not break down in front of everyone. “I think I’ve had my fill of playing dress up for one night.”

As you stormed toward the exit, the bottom of your dress bundled up furiously in your hands, you could hear Satoru calling after you. You couldn’t bear to look back at him though, the tears falling in angry, stinging streams down your cheeks as the fresh air nipped at your face. His long legs seemed to carry him much faster than you anticipated though, and his hand was soon curling desperately around your arm.

“Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”

“No, but I did, okay?” You cried, swiping furiously at the mascara you were sure was staining your face right now. “I knew better, and I still let myself be— be humiliated. So, please just spare me the pity and let me go home, Gojo.”

“I’ll drive you—”

“Alone. I want to go home alone.”

His movements faltered, a hushed guilt striking his handsome face. The moonlight’s illumination seemed to bounce off his incandescent eyes as his gaze fluttered. With a solemn nod, he strode toward the sleek, black car parked just out front and knocked on the window. When it rolled down, a black-haired man peeked out in question as he adjusted the square frames on his nose.

“Take her home.” Satoru demanded simply before moving to open the back door for you. You kept your eyes focused on the ground as you ducked into the vehicle, but you could feel his solemn gaze burning a hole into the side of your head with every step. “I mean it— I’m sorry.”

After a pregnant pause with no response, he turned his head to the side, his Adam's apple bobbing with his strained gulp as he closed the door.

For the first time in what seemed like years, you went home and allowed yourself to cry in your father’s arms. Of course, this entailed your explanation of what had actually been going on that night, but you were too beside yourself to care anymore. In truth, you wished you could have told him how much you hated it, how you were counting the seconds until you could leave and forget about whatever idiotic agreement you’d made with Gojo. You couldn’t though, and that made your bitter tears that much worse.

Despite your rampant views on the lap of luxury these people draped themselves upon, it felt new and exciting to be at the front of it for the first time. As you desperately wracked your brain to explain your sudden change of heart, all clues pointed back to him, because it was exhilarating to waltz with him as though you had stumbled upon an ever gracious prince, and you could still feel the aching in your cheeks from the sheer force of the laughter he was able to pull from you even during perhaps one of the most embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions of your life.

You had come to the realization, and perhaps your father had as well, that it wasn’t the respect of the haughty company that had surrounded you two that night that made you feel so depraved as it was pulled from you— it was Satoru, and the way you couldn’t for the life of you find it in yourself to fault him for the impertinence of the masses, no matter how much easier it might have been if you did.

A tear escaped you for every memory of each smirk, each lingering touch and longing gaze— because it was the brash reminder of your glaring differences that stung worst of all. It was the realization that at your very core, you and Satoru were one in the same— in a desperate pursuit against the expectations set before you, yet forcefully pulled into the sickening orbit of their consequences nonetheless.

Satoru Gojo wasn’t at fault, you finally admitted to yourself as you stared up at your ceiling that night. You thought about the darkness that shrouded him with each insolent syllable that fell from his parent’s lips. You thought about how lonely it must feel in that grand house of his with no one around that didn’t have an agenda to push on him.

You thought about how many times he must have hidden in that little alcove in his vast hallway— not because he was the Gojo family’s disaster, but because however grating the silence his seclusion provided mustn’t have compared to the gruelling disquietude of belonging to family who had everything in the world except an ounce of care for their only son.

You had stopped crying for the shamed farmer’s daughter, and instead shed a tear for the forgotten prodigal son.

In the midst of star-lit dreams of dance floors barren of self-righteousness, you were pulled from your slumber by the distinct, sharp thuds against your window. It was proven difficult to pry your eyes open, given the countless streams that had stung them to sleep. Rubbing sluggishly at them in hopes of waking up enough to assess the situation, you slowly sat up in your bed. You paused for a moment, wondering if perhaps you had just been dreaming the offending noise, but it soon sounded once again.

Pulling yourself begrudgingly off your warmed sheets, you slowly made your way to the window, almost fearful of what you’d find as you peeked through the curtains.

“Oh my god.” You rasped out at the sight before you. Ripping your curtains aside, you wrangled your window open with a soft grunt. “What in god’s name are you doing, Gojo?”

He looked up at you as if surprised that you’d actually appeared, and the stunned expression made you wonder how many of the windows in your house he had assaulted before finally finding yours. His neatly tailored, sleek black suit still sat proudly on his frame as he huffed out a sigh.

“You were supposed to say ‘Romeo, oh Romeo—”

“Do you not remember what else Juliet tells Romeo in this scene?” You whispered furiously down at him, but he only blinked owlishly at you. “She tells him that he’s gonna get his ass beat if he gets caught. You’re not exactly my dad’s favorite person right now.”

“Then come down here.” He insisted pleadingly, holding up a bag for you to see. “I stole you a piece of cake.”

The two of you sat in the bed of your truck, shoulders slumped against one another as you passed a plate of cake back and forth. Neither of you were quite sure what to say, but you both knew it was comforting that the stars shining above you held nary an opinion about either of your paths. There was a blackening bruise lining his right undereye, the lid ever-so-slightly squinted shut. He didn’t mention anything about the way your eyes were still swollen from the tears you had shed, so you didn’t ask about his black eye or split knuckles.

“I’m sorry, Gojo.” It was the only thing you could think to say. Part of you was apologizing for the harsh manner in which you had prematurely critiqued him, the other part felt obligated to apologize for whatever had transpired between him and his father following your departure.

“Don’t call me that.” He shook his head, that tired expression haunting his face once again. “That’s not who I want to be— not right now.”

Gulping down the lump in your throat, you corrected yourself.

“I’m sorry, Satoru.”

It was silent for a few moments longer as you two finished your shared dessert. With a sigh, you leaned your head back to stare up at the myriad of stars shining down on you, and, from your peripheral, you saw Satoru do the same.

“There’s a theory in quantum physics that says objects don’t exist independently.” He began, his good eye working to count each star that caught his attention— willing them into existence. “In other words, if no one is around to see it, it just… doesn’t exist.”

Your lashes fluttered as you soaked in his words, the implications weighing down on your chest as you cast a sidelong glance his way, but he was too busy assuring that each star was observed, acknowledged and therefore real.

“I think it felt like that for me. Like the version of me I actually understood didn’t exist because no one was willing to acknowledge it.” He confessed, his head finally lolling to the side to observe you next. Each freckle and scar, each blink and trembling lip was confirmed under his watchful eye. “I don’t think anyone’s ever seen it.”

“I see it.” You reassured in a hushed whisper. A small smile finally curled at the corners of his mouth as he nodded softly.

“You see it.” He confirmed.

You hummed pensively, a modest smile of your own lighting your features ablaze.

“So if you closed your eyes right now— I would just cease to exist then?” You challenged his theory teasingly, wondering when the last time it was that he had gotten to speak about his passion to anyone who actually cared. Although he knew the partially philosophical theory ran much deeper than the laden explanation you were giving, he couldn’t help but indulge your challenge.

“Science is science, princess.” Satoru shrugged with a beguiled smirk.

“So, you’re saying— ” You leaned forward to tug on his already loosened tie until it came undone. The motion had a rushing heat swirling in his chest, taking note of the way the moonlight emphasized the mischievous glint hidden in your eyes. “If I tied this thing around your eyes— poof— I’m no longer here?”

“Well, a good scientist always tests his theories, of course.” He stammered breathlessly, his legs parting to accommodate your crawling between them. His lips parted as you slowly moved the tie over his fluttering eyes, your chests brushing together while you reached behind him to secure it around his head.

Moving away from him, you leaned back to observe your handiwork. Although blindfolded, you still tilted your head with a teasing smirk as though he’d be able to see it.

“Well?” You whispered, watching the way his chest heaved with anticipatory pants. “Am I still here?”

The aged truck creaked ever-so-slightly as Satoru shifted onto his knees, his hands reaching out blindly until they met your ankle. Using it as a guide, he carefully crawled forward, hands snaking up your body until he was hovering above you. The ends of the tie that hung from the back of his head brushed against your cheek as he leaned down closer to you.

“Not sure yet.” His hushed tone sent shivers down your spine, and you laid back to stare up at him.

Nimble fingers trailed up to search out your face, and a tickled smile fought its way onto his lips when he grazed your nose instead on his pursuit. Although it wasn’t his target, he still brushed a featherlight touch down the bridge of your nose before moving to cup your flushed cheeks.

“Your nose is still here, cheeks are still here.” Satoru murmured each checkpoint tenderly. Humming contentedly, he brushed a few lingering hairs behind your ears, thumbing against the delicate lobes in feigned assessment. “Hair, ears…”

His face was drawing closer with each confirmation, and soon the fingers that were still tucked behind your nape pulled your head up ever so slightly until his lips brushed against yours. It was barely a graze initially, a deliberate tease that he was quickly realizing he didn’t have the willpower to keep up, quickly abandoning it in favor of molding his mouth harmoniously against yours.

“Your lips,” He sighed wantonly against you, his voice almost falling into a soft whine. “Your lips are still here— thank god.”

You giggled against him, reaching up to run your fingernails down the short, velvety hairs of his neatly kept undercut. It made him shiver, a smirk curling into your frenzied kiss as he hummed appreciatively.

“Your hands.” Satoru continued as you pushed at his suit jacket, making him pull away from you for a moment as he shrugged it off. The very hands that he’d just confirmed the existence of didn’t pull him back down right away, instead surprising him as they worked quickly to unbutton his dress shirt, and it was soon joining his jacket in a discarded pile beside you. He clutched at your wrists maneuvering them to run your tender hands down his chest.

And so he disproved his own theory with the eager exploration of each heaven-sent inch of you, pulling your sweater over your head to confirm the way your breasts heaved against his chest, leaning down to brush his nose and lips across each one of good measure. You aided him with fumbling shuffles to pull down your sweatpants, his desolate moan nearly breaking the resolve of your patience as he carefully inched forward to lick a strip up your folds that glistened under the moonlight in a manner he wished he could see.

“All here, princess.” Satoru murmured near drunkenly, pressing a few sloppy kisses against your throbbing heat to elicit a few more of those bewitching whimpers from you before making his way back up to press his lips bruisingly against yours.

“And if you leave would I still be here?” You panted against his lips, reaching down to fumble with the buckle of his belt before pulling his bottoms down past the lean curve of his ass.

“I won’t leave— I’ll never leave.” He shook his head forlornly, glistening lips falling open as you grasped at his cock. Falling forward on his elbows, his clammy forehead pressed against yours.

“Swear it.” You gasped as his tip pushed blindly into you, your moans synchronizing in blissful tandem. Through his parted lips, you could still see the way his lips twitched up at your words.

“What shall I swear by?”

Your heels dug into the cool surface of the truck bed, driving your hips up, pushing him deeper into you as he ground down, the subtle impact sending his head reeling back up to face the stars.

“Not your parents, not your last name.” Your responses began to sound like mindless babbles, but he could swear he understood each syllable as he nodded desolately in raptured agreement. The blunt edges of your short nails dug into his nape to pull him closer to you, your lips brushing once again and sharing each exhale greedily into one another’s mouths. “By you, just you, Satoru.”

“I swear.” He gasped, his hips snapping up in a brutal pursuit of your mutual intoxication. Each of your saccharine moans sent tendrils of euphoric bliss twisting down his spine, and he clutched at your waist in an attempt to ground himself as he felt his own thrusts quickly losing their focus. “I swear— ah! I swear I’ll never leave, and you’ll— ” His rapturous moans cut rudely between his oath. “— and you’ll always be here.”

“I’ll always be here.” You confirmed, brows meshing up as you watched him fall apart with the reassurance of your promise. Reaching up, you pulled the tie down to fall around his neck, his eyes finding yours in an instant as though he would be able to pinpoint their warmth even blind, and he was sure he could— he was sure he could do anything as he spilled himself into you, riding out his high with slack-jawed, lanugid grinds.

“You’ll always be here.”

And it was true even as you two woke beside one another that next morning after you’d snuck him up to your room. The bruise around his eye had spread substantially, the injured lid now swelled completely shut, but he swore even with just one eye to behold you that you were just as stunning as you had been beneath the moon’s gracious light last night underneath of him. Sitting up on his hands, he allowed the sheets to fall down his chest as he observed the way you seemed to still shiver even under the protective layers of your sweater and thick bottoms.

Brushing the hair from your face, he leaned down to press his lips against your temple, each of his tender kisses pulling you farther and farther away from your slumber until you stirred beneath him. He smiled when you groaned in disapproval at his interruption of your coma-like state.

“Sorry, I just don’t want your dad to catch—”

But, much like the theory he rambled on about the night prior, his acknowledgment of the man seemed to will him right into existence with a careful knock on your door. You shot up into a sitting position, eyes wide and frantic as you moved to push against Satoru’s shoulders, attempting with fleeting hope to wrangle his large frame into the closet or perhaps under the bed.

No attempt would be fast enough though, not with your father’s burning desire to check on you following the state that you’d gone to sleep in the night prior, and the door creaked open.

“You doing okay, sweet—”

There in the cramped bed of his daughter was the very man you had cried against him for just mere hours ago— the son of the very family that had assured you’d never hope for your own aspirations in life, far too focused on fixing his that the Gojo’s had made their life mission to ruin. An unreadable mix of emotions swirled onto his stunned face in a way that had both of you holding your breath.

His lips parted, but he took note of the swelled, gruellingly dark bruise that surrounded his eye and branched out subtly onto the bridge of his nose. He watched the way the Satoru still clung to your hand, and how your fingers curled in uncertainty into the fabric of his open, button down shirt. He thought about how despite all that you had told him last night— you couldn’t find it in you to speak an ill word about him, only noting to your father how scared he’d looked at a dinner table with his own parents.

Your father’s tired shoulders slowly deflated as he sighed.

“Why don’t you two come down to get something to eat?” With that, he shut the door, leaving the two of you in stunned silence as his boots retreated down the stairs.

“Is that—” Satoru licked his lips anxiously, his good eye flickering frantically around the room before falling on you. “Is that code for something?

You could only silently shake your head, your gaze still fixed upon the door he’d just left through. Although your heart was still pounding relentlessly against your ribcage, it was beginning to settle with the assurance that your father was a far more merciful man than you had ever given him credit for.

The two of you slowly creeped downstairs after having gotten yourselves together, Satoru’s white hair still disheveled from your pillow as he hesitantly poked his head out to peer toward the kitchen. Your father’s back was facing him, working to flip what looked to be a pancake on the griddle before him, but he turned around upon hearing the creaks in the stairs.

You had to give him props, because even despite his nerves surrounding his life at the moment, he still stepped forward to bow to your father in greeting, a motion that had the smallest of smiles hinting at the man’s lips. With a hum, he turned back around to plate the pancake that had finished cooking.

“My daughter tells me you're a physicist, Gojo.” He commented, taking the plate of stacked pancakes to place them on the table.

It took him aback, as he wasn’t sure anyone had ever called him that before— ever even acknowledged the path he had chosen for himself. You watched with a soft gaze as his good eye fluttered rapidly while he blinked away the misty haze that seemed to involuntarily cloud it. With a growing smile, he nodded slowly, taking a seat in the chair your dad had pulled out for him.

“Trying to be, sir.” He explained breathlessly before looking up at you with a tender smile. “And it’s Satoru— just Satoru.”

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

674 notes · View notes

unconventional-lawnchair · 6 months ago

Note

A request for you!

Is just Remus helpin a newly werewolf infected reader learn how to deal with it (either back in school or as adults) and they have some heart eyes for each other (or are already together with some added anst that Remus feels responsible because she got targeted because of him or he infected her)

Go wild uwu

N/A This is perfection, kinda went the Angsty route, and by now, you know my pureblood obsession. This has become so much more then it originally planned to be LOL - Not proof read

Think like a Lupin

Iris The Goo Goo Dolls

Remus Lupin x Werewolf!Slytherin!Reader

Wc- 11536

Cw; Use of Y/N Sexual themes and actions, Cussing, themes of ptsd aligning with assault, arranged marriages, abusers doing abusing, continuity issues (mostly wolfbane during Remus's school years)

You always used to enjoy your walks. The one time you were allowed peace, away from your rancid family and their overbearing presence.

They were always simple, slow, and just a lap around your parents' garden. The {L/N} manor was huge, and the property was far bigger. The trail, however, was just around the fountained hedges and back. It was the only path you were allowed to walk without a chaperone, so you relished in it.

It was just around the garden.

It was safe.

It should have been safe.

It was foggy, cold, your limbs buzzing numb and your lips chapped. Your father had just came back from his week-long ministry endeavor, working to ban those infected with Lycanthropy from the more popularized highlands. He had no shame in his views on them, and for the longest time, you believed them too..

You had a lot of regrets like that.

Your father was furious, his bill wasn't passed and he, as usual, had taken it out on your mother the second he entered the threshold of the place you called home. The verbal attack that started was horrendous and you wanted no part in it. So here you were, as far away from home as you could get.

You wanted to walk for hours, but the trail was only about long enough to allow you to avoid your fathers fury, that was pushing it.

Once you were behind the hedges, and you knew no one was watching, you sat down. Looking up at the full moon you lifted your hand as if you could catch it.

You didn't feel the eyes on you.

You don't hear the rustling on the outer line of the property.

Maybe if you did, it would have been different. Maybe if you didn't go out alone, it would have been different.

Maybe if you didn't go out alone, the imprint of Greyback’s jaws wouldn't be permanently etched into your skin.

~~~

Being a pureblood had never been necessarily difficult when you were younger. Occasionally you weren't allowed to play certain games or be around certain people, but it remained plausible. As you got older, specifically when you got to Hogwarts, you suddenly had weekly letters informing you of their expectations. It was crushing, from your parents expecting updates from the professors, to them giving you a letter with a list of all of the approved students your parents allowed you to associate with. Merlin forbid you make friends with muggleborns and halfbloods. Living with that for six full years was destroying you.

You preferred that, however, when you heard news that after your seventh year you were to be married off. Your parents didn't even permit you to know who it was.

Being left with your thoughts was favorable, knowing once the year was over, you were to be married off and a child wasn't an option, more of an obligation. The idea of bringing a child into a world so cruel, to face the same fates, with the possibility of your inflection? It was keeping you up, despite how you tried to keep the thoughts away.

You were laying in the cott, as Madam Pomfrey tried to quiz you on how all of this happened. She didn't say it, but she had this horrible feeling that it was a certain boy she knew, and the guilt he would feel if he heard of it would destroy him.

You didn't answer, just kept denying it. The scars along your face and chest throbbed, your very skull ached from your first ever transformation. Your parents had made you promise to keep it quiet, not wanting to disgrace their name and ruin your betrothal. No one was to know, especially staff, so you kept your mouth shut. Pomfrey tutted and shook her head before she stood. Giving a startled breath when the doors crashed open.

Your eyes tightened in pain and you lifted your good hand over your eyes to try and drown out the raising sunlight.

You groaned and looked up at the doorway. You saw four boys, boys you unfortunately knew very well. The Marauders. If it was to be anyone coming into the hospital wing with no explanation, at this ungodly time of the morning, it would be them. You didn't notice Madam Pomfrey’s familiar and routine movements as she left your side and hurried the boys into the cott next to yours.

You closed your eyes and let out a low sigh as you tried to ignore them. Luckily, the tallest one, Remus, seemed just as over it as you by the way his friends hushed around him.

“I'm fine, guys, you can head off, it will be breakfast soon.”

Remus’s voice sounded strained. Not that you paid particular attention to it before now, you could even hear a bit of crackle in the base of it, clearly over used. You slowly peaked one of your eyes open and spotted Remus’s form sprawled out on the bed just a yard or two away from you. You wondered if she did it on purpose.

Now, your ideals didn't align with your parents, you had long since grown out of that phase. But that didn't mean you still didn't put up a front to anyone you weren't close to. The Marauders and you didn't really care to involve yourself with each other, the only one you knew vaguely was Sirius, but that was due to your relationship with Regulus. Both of them were dramatic shouts, but Regulus was at least charming about it. You couldn't say you knew Sirius well enough to know it.

Not that it mattered.

His name was nowhere on your parents list.

“Are you sure, moony? We can get you anything you need.” James fretted like the mother hen he was. You rolled your eyes and began to roll over, giving a low hiss of pain as the bandage that littered your skin rubbed against your raw flesh.

It was then that the boys noticed you. Your back was now to them, and it seemed they took that as a sign to go. You heard the three shuffling away with low whispers of something you couldn't quite catch.

You tried to steady your breathing, as your ears narrowed in on Remus’s breath. Ever since that night, while you were still in denial, you noticed how your eyesight increased tenfold, your hearing was beyond sensitive, and Merlin your nose seemed to find new and powerful scents everywhere. Taking long deep breaths through your nose wasn't helping.

That was, until you smelt something strong. It wasn't a smell you were able to place, but it was amazing. Calming and numbing, like you could fully unwind and let yourself take the backseat because something was here to protect you. Something was there to stand guard, you didn't have to anymore. You tried to hush this utterly annoying whining in your ears, telling you to go closer to the source, like there were claws wracking against your temple.

You curled up within yourself, holding your head, trying to block out every sound and smell, it was overwhelming. Your body ached, your head throbbed, your nose felt cold and raw with every breath. You wanted to forget tonight, figure out a glamour to cover up your damned scars, and go back to class. But that could all be done tomorrow. Now, you just wanted to sleep.

“Is it loud?” Remus called over to you in a low tone. Still, you flinched at the unwelcome and piercing intrusion it caused. Remus’s voice traveled down your spine and warmed your stomach. Whatever this was, you needed it to stop. You don't even notice the hesitance and slight pain in his voice.

“What?” You whispered back with narrowed eyes.

“The voice.” He challenged. Remus Lupin was smarter than most, not that it took too much thought to figure out what was happening. You looked a lot like him, when he was first nursed back to health by Pomfrey.

“I don't have a clue what you mean.” You snapped back before you carefully rolled over to look at him. You hid your wince and grimace perfectly, but you couldn't hold an angry expression with Remus. Especially when his eyes locked with yours. The voice got so much louder, demanding and begging she go to the boy infront of her. You did your best to ignore it, flinching hard, and covering your temple with a huff.

You don't get a chance to notice how Remus seemed to be going through the same. The second he walked through the door, your scent hit his nose and he knew. He knew what you were before he realized who you were. {Y/N} {L/N}. To him, the only thing notable about you outside of your pureblood bordering on royal status was the company you kept.

You were one of the many who couldn't stand Severus, but you hung around Regulus Black, Evan Rosier, and even Barty Crouch Jr. you seemed to only be friendly with purebloods, but you never went out of your way to pick on anyone else. It was like you lived in your own little world, as far away from ‘tainted blood’ as possible. He only remembered you as the girl who hexed Avery for calling Lily a Mudblood, then receiving a howler from your parents about it the very next day. You avoided anyone who wasn't a pureblood since.

The only exchange he had ever had with you was when Barty had cornered a few first years in the hall, Gryffindors with a loud mouth, having called out Regulus for Slytherin cheating during the game.

The marauders just so happened to be walking down the hall at the time, and before they could do anything about it, you walked in from the courtyard to the scene. It was almost scary, how you simply calling the boys names retracted them from whatever they planned to do. Well, Barty planned to do, Regulus held his usual look of indifference and likely didn't seem too interested in any outcome.

“Then, what are you in for?” Remus prodded with an amused look. You huffed as his voice became more soothing the more he spoke. You wanted to ignore him, you knew you should. That voice in your head did not like that idea, it seemed. Desperate for any bit of attention Remus would give you, and he seemed willing to hold a conversation. It latched onto that.

“I'm.. sick.” Okay, maybe you weren't a genius, but you certainly weren't that dumb. That damned voice speaking louder then any thought in your head.

“You're .. sick?” He prodded with a smirk and you bit your cheek.

“Uh huh.” Might as well stick to it.

There was a long pause between you two, you eventually gave a low groan and he smiled. “Well, I usually wouldn't suggest this for just sick girls.” He started and you peaked one of your eyes to glance at him. He was sitting up, back propped up by pillows. The second your eyes met your lungs suddenly refused to work properly, and he seemed to stutter for a moment.

“What?” You whispered.

“Calming drought. And a few drops of deflating drought. I take it before I get,” He gestured to his bandages, much less then yours. “Sick too.”

Your eyes widened at his remark. Eyes trailing down his form a bit, not noticing how it made him squirm. Your jaw went slack for a moment before you corrected yourself. He was a werewolf too? Who else knew? They allowed him at school? Regretting your own stupid excuse now. But you listened to his every word intently. You bit your bottom lip and slowly sighed. “Ah. Well, a little over kill isn't it?”

“Is it?” He chuckled and gestured to your current state. “I also do something to relieve stress, you know, before I get sick.”

You quirked your eyebrow at him and hummed. “Relieve stress?”

“Mhm.. I can give some suggestions, I can help you too, if you need.”

“You forget yourself, Lupin.”

Remus seemed baffled by your response before his jaw went slack. “W-woah, not like that.” He laughed and you couldn't help but smile at it. The crinkle of his tanned skin in the corner of his eyes made your heart throb helplessly against your ribcage. What had gotten into you?

“That's a real shame.” You continued to tease and Remus seemed thrown for a loop, before he quickly caught himself.

“Sorry, princess, I usually like at least one date before I go to such extremes.”

“How very proper of you, I wouldn't of expected it, considering the company you keep.” You smirked and he rolled his eyes playfully.

“I could say the same to you.” He tried to joke, but that remark made you pucker your lips a bit.

“Not exactly my choice.” You mumbled and he slowly frowned. The wolf in him whining helplessly as he seemed to upset you. He used to have it under control, but it seemed the company of other werewolves was weakening his resolve and strengthening Moony’s.

A silence followed, but it wasn't uncomfortable. He actually hadn't felt more at peace in months. You either.

“Wolfsbane.” He remarked and you looked up at him.

“What?” You whispered and he smiled at you.

“Wolfsbane. It's a potion to help with our sickness.” He muttered and you clicked your tongue.

“Have you ever used it?”

“Can't afford it.” He remarked quickly and you took a breath in, sharp. Forgetting to be conscious of your privilege.

“Ah… what does it do?” You asked carefully, and the conversation continued like that.

Your conversation faded into nothing but familiarities after a while, from your shared sickness to random facts. Almost like you were old friends catching up with each other, you learned of his parents, his friends, his childhood. It was simple and you were practically strangers, but by the time you had dozed off it felt like you understood a bit more about who Remus Lupin was.

You didn't share much about yourself, you hoped it didn't show just how desperate you were for his voice. You didn't even have time to think of blood status, how your parents would react to you making a friend of a halfblood.

It felt like you had an ally, someone you could lean on. It helped that his presence alone seemed to sooth the manic thoughts in your head.

~~~

It had been days since your encounter with him. You couldn't seem to get that stupid boy out of your head. So what was a good distraction when you couldn't get your thoughts straight? Studying, of course. The only reason you found yourself ducking into the library was Barty wouldn't be caught dead studying, less people think his brains were more than just a Merlin given gift. You found yourself smiling slightly at his utter ridiculous reasonings. Regulus could keep him entertained while you were away, you were sure of it.

You had to be careful with the two, Evan was easy to fool, too focused on trying to be on par with Barty, or too focused on making a name for himself, but the others? You didn't want them to narrow down what was happening to you. You didn't exactly know how they would handle it. Regulus was still young enough his mothers words meant the world to him, and Barty and Evan had expressed interest in more extremes then just arrogance. You chose to ignore those thoughts, because you loved the boys, no matter how foolish they were. You didn't claim to be the bastion of temperance. You didn't have all the answers for them, you certainly didn't have enough experience or evidence to the contrary, you just knew you cared deeply for them, and abandoning them for ideals imposed upon them was never an option in your book.

Walking into the library, the scent hit your nose like a ton of bricks. That familiar and soothing smell. It was intoxicating, having to catch yourself as your body moved closer without your consent. Your eyes locked with his almost instantly, as if he was looking for you too.

Remus Lupin was with his usual friends, though you noted Lily and Mary were with them as well. It wasn't anything big, as you knew Lily had started dating James Potter after years of embarrassing pining. Though, Mary was sitting awfully close to Remus. The voice in the back of your head did not like that. All of them took a full table for themselves, and as your body had started walking towards them, you suddenly realized you had stopped in the middle of the aisle staring at Remus. And he you.

It took an awkward cough from someone at the table and that seemed to break you and Remus’s staring contest. You looked over at where the noise came from and you saw Sirius Black, giving you the dirtiest look you had ever seen. You give a ‘hmph’ and look away from them, walking right past their table to one of the smaller ones near the window.

You didn't notice how Remus’s eyes trailed after you, nor did you notice when Sirius gave him a look of confusion, looking for an explanation. Remus, however, simply looked down at his parchment and waved him off.

“What was that about?” Sirius hissed at Remus, that was hard to ignore.

“Nothing.” Remus muttered. Even though his voice was lower than Sirius’s, you heard it more clearly than anyone else’s in the room.

They continued to talk among themselves, and being just a few tables down it was hard to ignore. It was mostly about whatever they were reviewing, it seemed Sirius gave up on trying to pry out Remus’s explanation. Eventually, it went quiet. You gave a sigh of relief, body unwinding. The voice in your head seemed to quiet down a bit, being in close proximity of Remus calmed it down.

This was a bad idea.

You tried to focus on your work, you truly did, but writing a 12 inch on the migrating patterns of horned slugs was as boring as it sounded. Could you even call moving from one side of a city to another migration? Sounded like a bit too much credit. Not that you could think of that for too long, soon enough, Remus was invading your mind again. The voice was becoming less and less content with the distance between you two. You rubbed your face and sighed. You have been at this for twenty minutes and you already wanted to go back to your dorm and forget this ever happened.

There was shuffling behind you, and you prayed Remus and his friends were leaving. When you heard books hit the desk next to you, you knew Merlin had a sick sense of humor.

You turned to look at whoever had the audacity to sit next to you, and your eyes locked with Remus’s.

“Hey.” He whispered to you and that voice shot down your spine like a bolt of lightning. You turned to look at his friends and saw that all of them seemed to be staring at you two, baffled. You quickly looked away, body stiff as you looked right back down at your parchment. You ignored him for a few moments, before you finally spoke up.

“Why are you here, Lupin?” You muttered, glancing over at him and noticing with a start that he had been staring at you already.

“To calm the voice.” He whispered, maintaining a stern and serious eye contact that almost strangled you. When did Remus Lupin get so confident?

You hadn't even noticed how the voice in the back of your head stopped, until it began to send pleasant rumbles threw your entire chest, like a purring cat. Oh, you were done for.

“Y-you forget yourself.” You whispered out in a stammer and he smiled bright at you, denting his cheek with his tongue. “You have that effect on me.”

You scoffed and looked away, covering your cheeks with your wrist and tried to pretend his words didn't rattle you. Cocky little-

“You can call me Remus.” He whispered to you and you closed your eyes and began to steady your breath.

“I will do no such thing.”

“Why not?”

“Have you forgotten who you're speaking to, halfblood?” You snapped back at him, turning to face him once more and you flinched at the surprised look on his face. The voice gave you a sharp bout of pain down your neck as if to punish you for hurting him.

There was a moment of quiet, before he turned to face you fully, both of you having forgotten your audience. He hung his arm around the back of your chair and that did nothing to calm your battering ram heart, as if it was trying to tear away from your chest to Remus. “You know.” He whispered, leaning closer as if he was telling you a secret.

You could have fainted right then and there.

“I don't think you really believe that, do you?” He whispered and you snapped you out of your thoughts. His smell. Please please please, whatever cruel gods were watching stop this torture already. “If you did, you wouldn't have hexed Avery. You wouldn't have talked to me in the hospital wing. And you would have long since hexed me for coming to you.”

“I'm still debating that, Lupin.”

“Remus.”

“Lupin.”

“Moony?” He offered and you looked over at him in utter stupefaction. You narrowed your eyes before one eyebrow arched in questioning.

“Moony?” You muttered, not noticing the shiver that went down his spine at that. “Moony.” He confirmed.

“Sounds ridiculous.” You huffed and he gave a brighter smile this time.

“Sounds amazing when you say it.” He whispered and before you could shoot something back, a voice called out behind you.

“Yo, {Y/N}! The bloody hell have you been!?”

You didn't know if that voice was a gift or an additional plague from the gods above. You pressed your thumb to your cheek and sighed. Preparing yourself for another shiver of discontent from your wolf, you leaned your head back to glance at Barty, and he was smiling, not for long, when he noticed Lupin with his arm practically around you, leaning into your space. His expression hardened.

“You! Get your damn hands off her!” He shouted to the entire library. You groaned and quickly stood up, Remus’s eyes still on you, as if he could care less about the scene to come. Barty was quick to make his way across the room and began to, and rather forcibly might you add, pack up your things for you.

“Is he bothering you?” He pried and inserted himself between you two, the growl from Remus was almost missed. You quickly shook your head as he put your book bag over your shoulder.

Barty huffed at your answer and put his hand around your lower back. “Bold halfblood.” He spat at him and began to escort you out of the library. You quickly paused, looking back at Remus as a realization hit you.

“Lupin.” You called over to him, and your breath got caught up for a moment, noticing he was watching you without ever moving from his seat.

“Remus.” He whispered back to you and it felt like he whispered that right against your earlobe. You took a sharp breath.

“Remus.” You whispered back and he sat up straighter. “I-I took your advice.” You whispered out, your hands gripping your book bag harder. You didn't think about why you said that. Maybe you were looking for praise? Merlin, what was wrong with you?

He just smiled at you and toyed with his lip, wetting them. “Good.” He nodded and you took a deep breath, about to say something further before Barty quickly hooked his arm more forcibly around your waist and pulled you away from the library. This would be a long year.

~~~

Weeks later, you were laying down on your bed and rubbing your temple. The green sheets that enveloped you were hardly soothing to your throbbing head. The voice, who you learned from Remus was indeed as you suspected, the wolf, had been furious with you. Between tests and studying, and not to mention Barty’s new found protectiveness over you, you weren't able to see Remus, outside of the stolen glances in the halls.

Barty refused to let you anywhere near the Gryffindor quartet, having told Regulus and Evan's that very night when he walked you all the way back to the Slytherin common rooms. Evan's was appalled, but Regulus seemed more disgusted then anything else.

It was like they formed a schedule to keep you away from any undesirables, every day, from potions to history of magic, they escorted you from class to class, and the voice was growing very impatient with their insistence. Even Regulus involved himself with the two’s foolish plans.

You loved the boys, but you didn't know how to explain that it physically pained you to be away from him. It was bizarre, you hardly even spared him a glance through the entire school year, he was just James Potter’s friend, someone to avoid. Just another person who didn't match your parents standards and thus, you needed nothing from. Now, it was like the very idea of going back to that was blasphemous. The wolf in the back of your mind howled out in displeasure at your own thoughts. What you would give for everything to be quiet.

As if to mock you, there was a firm knock on your door. You huffed and sat up, only for the door to be thrown open and Barty to let himself in. “Got something for ya! Looks like it's from your parents.” He announced as he plopped the package down, your bed dipped under its weight, and the sound of glass clinking filling the room. You huffed and stood up, arms crossing as you glared at him.

“Has waiting for me to open the door ever once crossed your mind?”

“It did, once, it scared me.”

You scoffed and tried to hide your smile. “I could of been changing!”

“Nothing I wouldn't like to see, dear.” He purred with a wink. You reached back and grabbed a pillow, pelting it at his face and he laughed, throwing his head back.

“Out! Out of my room!” You shouted, unable to help the giggles that left your lips. Despite the joy, you felt this familiar dread fill your chest. Your voice agreed with it, you didn't want to be alone with anyone. Not right now.

“And if I don't?” He smirked and held the pillow still. You bit your cheek, another horrible attempt to hide your laughter. Trying your best to ignore how a toad made its home in the back of your throat. You felt like you could cry, you didn't know why, Barty had never once made you feel unsafe, and despite his jokes, he respected you more then you figured to be normal considering how purebloods usually were. He was definitely your favorite RavenClaw.

“I'm calling your boyfriend.” You teased and he gave a dramatic gasp, his smile twitching a bit as he noticed your eyes growing glossy.

“Oh no, whatever will I do? It's not like he agrees with me or anything.” He attempted to continue the joke, but when tears actually began to shed, he stopped fighting, letting you shove him to the door. That comment alone seemed to effect you more then you let on. He paused, about to ask you something, before you groaned, managing to get him out the door.

“Begone!” You shouted and slammed the door in front of his face.

“Hey- Wait-” He called from the other side of the closed door, you could just barely make out Regulus call for Barty to leave you be from the common room.

You pressed your back to the door and tried to calm your breathing. Closing your eyes tight to dispel your tears and gather yourself. Breathing becoming heavier, and slowly sinking against the floor. What was happening? Why were you so panicked? Your wolf paced in the back of your mind, making your breathing harder to steady. You gave a gasp and curled up tighter. Your hands were shaking, your throat was scratchy, and you were sure you would pass out if your hiccups paired with the heavy gasps had anything to say about it.

You wanted to sleep, you wanted it to stop, but you had a feeling you knew exactly how to calm yourself.

~~~ Remus’s POV ~~~

It was like they were brandishing you like a trophy of some kind. He didn't want to think about it like that, like you were just some prize to be won, but it was getting harder. The looks Barty and Evan would shoot him in the halls while keeping you as far away from him as possible.

He was dying here, Moony wouldn't just shut up about you, and the boys kept harassing him about you too. Still not over the interaction he had in the library. It got worse when he admitted you were the one who laid next to him in the hospital wing.

“I mean, she's a pureblood, she acts like everyone else doesn't exist, you think she'd give Remus the time of day?” Sirius spoke up, ever the skeptic. He was laying on his back on the floor of the common room, tossing a pair of folded socks above his head. “{L/N}s would eat our poor moony alive.” Sirius smirked and tossed the sock pair at Remus who lifted his hand sharply and caught it without looking.

The taller boy was laying on the couch, sprawled out to try and ease the tension in every limb of his.

Sirius let out a low, impressed whistle. They had also found his new wound up Moony’s reflexes fascinating. Sirius especially.

“Have you seen the way they look at eachother? Like star crossed lovers.” James sighed fondly from where he sat in front of the loveseat, head resting in Lilys lap as she braided bits of his hair. Lily gave a fond eye roll, looking over to Remus.

“Starcross what now? Honestly, Remus, if you're shagging her you can just say that.” Sirius snickered but quickly his chuckle was caught in his throat when Remus sent him a deadly glare.

Sirius bit his cheek and slowly smirked. Interesting.

“He really does seem fond of her. Infatuation, maybe?” She teased and Remus groaned. “I am right here.” He grumbled and glared over, Lily giggled.

She was the only one he told about what had been happening, so she was surely just taunting him. He rolled his jaw and opened his mouth to speak before there was a soft knock on the portrait. The fat lady’s voice soon came, gasping and scolding whoever was trying to get in.

“Woah, after curfew?” James muttered, looking to Lily. “As heads, we should probably do some scolding, hm?” He prodded and Lily gave a dramatic hum of thought, pressing her finger to her cheek. “Hmmm…”

She glanced up at Remus and saw how his body stiffened and he sat up a bit. He was staring at the door like a patient and loyal dog. Her eyebrows raised in amusement before she shook her head.

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p.’ “We're off.” She cheeked and James gave a chuckle and leaned his head back against her plush thighs with a content hum.

“Sounds good.”

There was another, much less confident knock.

No one moved, Peter looked around the group from his homework before he groaned as all the eyes landed on him, safe for Remus. He stood up and walked over to it. He was gone for a few moments, before he walked back with an amused look, Remus was already getting up.

“Remus your…” Peter trailed off as he watched the taller boy quickly walk past him and out of view of his friends. Lily smirked and James tilted his head curiously at her.

“Remus is getting callers, soon enough, we'll have to set up a dowry.” She hummed in a serious tone, Sirius throwing his hands up.

“What? I always have callers! What's my dowry?”

“We have three chocolate frogs for whoever will settle down with you.” James remarked and Lily gave a startled laugh, covering her smile as James looked up at her like she was the one to gift him sight.

Sirius pouted.

~~~

You knocked, just once more. You didn't know why you expected them to be up, but the wolf in the back of your head was calming slowly, you had a feeling you knew why. When the door opened, the warm air seemed to pour from the common room, the very air wrapped around you in so much comfort. The smell came with it, and you could have fainted with how loud the voice became. Your hands found purchase on your skirt when you made eye contact with Peter Pettigrew. You both stared at each other bewildered. Right. It wasn't just Remus here.

Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and lifted the small paper bag in your hand, “I uhm,” You cleared your throat again. “Remus. Something for Remus.”

Peter slowly smirked before he nodded and hurried back into the room. You looked away and began debating with yourself. If you ran back to the dungeons, would he catch you before you got there? Your hands were still unsteady but your breath was finally growing even. What were you even planning? Give him the Wolfsbane and beg him to stay with you a little longer? Because him standing near you was calming? Merlin you should've thought this through. You sounded insane.

Your head snapped up when you heard the portrait open again. You locked eyes with Remus, both a bit too stunned to know what to say. You opened your mouth a few times and began to grow frustrated with yourself as you continued to try, and no sound left. You took an even breath and Remus gave you a small breathtaking smile. This bastard.

“A-actually, this was a mistake, I'll-” Your words were cut short when Remus reached out and grabbed your arm to keep you in place. His hand was much larger than you expected. You turned back to look at him and when your eyes met, your breath was once again snatched from your chest. You let out a whine that was so audible it was humiliating. “R-Remus…” You whispered out his name and that seemed to really ignite something in him.

He tugged softly at your arm to gesture you in. You toyed with your bottom lip before you obeyed him and followed. He lead you into the common room, and you met his friends look of utter bewilderment, and they matched your expression.

Remus ignored them, leading you right up the stairs to his dorm. You heard a wolf whistle from Sirius before the door closed behind you.

Everything else happened so quickly, but so carefully. He backed you into the door and you stammered out his name. You couldn't think clearly, with how intense your wolf was becoming. Like it was whimpering in excitement. You huffed as Remus gave you a look that sent danger signed flaring in every part of your body but your mind.

Your left brain was utterly useless around him, you decided.

He caged you in, and leaned his nose against your neck and took in a deep breath, savoring the smell of your shampoo and body wash. He seemed just as dazed as you did. You pressed your legs together, hard, and you squinted at the light above you, allowing him to take you in.

After what felt like hours, he pulled away. You felt so cold, you resisted the urge to pull him back. He leaned down over you, face just a few inches from yours.

His eyes glanced down at the paper bag in your hand and your mouth dried. “Got something, Princess?”

You closed your eyes tight and lifted the bag. He looked between you and it, not that you noticed. “For you.”

“For me?” He asked in a soft teasing voice. Taking it from your palm and opening the bag. His breath caught in his throat and he snatched it out, holding the blue grey sludge like potion in his hand. “Is.. is this?”

“I-I listened. Like I said, and my parents sent me far more then I would ever use in a school year so.. so I figured it would be a waste.” Your voice grew lower as he gave you a look you couldn't describe. Would you be honest? That you lied to your parents to request double knowing they wouldn't question it? To offer Remus just a bit of relief? Even if it wasn't much? You doubted it. But the way he was looking at you now, it felt like he knew. He set the bag down and stepped closer to you.

You reached for the door knob but he beat you to it. Leaning down as his lips hovered over yours, you held your breath, your fingers trembling. Slowly, moving to rest on his chest. He smiled, it was so small, so soft. You took a shaky breath and slid your hands from his chest to his shoulders. “Can I?” He whispered and you let out another ungodly sound.

“Yes.”

When his lips landed on yours, everything else went blank. You reached around him and gripped at the back of his uniform with desperate clawing motions. It was flashes filling your head. Flashes of Remus against your neck, then you on his bed.

You had no clue what was happening you just knew you'd didn't want it to stop. Ever. When he shifted on top of you, however, you noticed his hesitance.

You were both red, deep with rushing blood. His hands that were once around your waist were now to your wrists. He straddled your hips, but he didn't move beyond that. When did he take his shirt off? When did yours go?

It seemed to hit Remus, how foggy you truly were. He slowed down and let go of you. Carefully,he crawled off and sat down in front of you with a low groan. You slowly and carefully sat up. It was hard, with how little your core seemed to obey you. “R-Remus?” You muttered and he covered his face with his hands.

“This is a bad idea.” He mumbled and you pouted a bit.

“What?”

“You can't think straight. Neither can I.” He whispered. “I won't regret this. But I know you will.”

You paused for a moment and considered what he said. He was right. If he had continued, you surely would have gone far further then you were willing. You didn't know how many people would of been able to make that call.

You fall on your side on his bed and groaned. It smelt so much like him. Your eyes closed and you buried your face in the pillow. He slowly smirked.

Climbing up onto the bed and wrapping his arm around your middle. You leaned your body fully against his and he sighed. “Is this okay?” He whispered, nose to your neck and voice desperate. You nodded, rolling over to hide your face in his chest. Everything was calm again, for both of you. No voices. No howling or clawing, no thoughts of anyone but who was in front of you. He waved his wand and closed the canopy drapes for privacy.

You knew you'd feel safe with him.

~~~

You woke up feeling amazing. Too bad the other three were there to greet you two with teasing and vile innuendos you had never heard before. And you were friends with Barty Crouch. You couldn't deny how funny it was, so when Remus apologized you could only laugh.

You and Remus made a habit of it, meeting up together and finding comfort in the calm you brought each other. Only on weekends, as you weren't allowed to go to Hogsmeade on most occasions, so the boys didn't question you when you said you would be keeping yourself busy.

Busy you definitely kept, when they left in the mornings, you made your way to the empty Gryffindor common room, straight to Remus’s room. Thats were you were now. Laying in his bed and fiddling with his hair. He was laying between your bent knees and nuzzling his head into your stomach. You flinched a bit as he rubbed against the mostly healed bite mark. He lifted his head and gave you a concerned look. You bit your cheek and slowly lifted your shirt, showing off the large bit of mangled skin to him again. He had seen it before, several times by now. Usually due to him throwing a shirt of his at you the second you walked threw the door. It was kind of adorable.

His eyes fully took it in, running his thumb against your jagged and twisted skin, clearly confused. His wound healed when he was young, yours seemed to be getting worse. “My mother healed it the best she could.” You whispered and his face twisted in confusion, eyes meeting yours. You bit your cheek.

“My parents didn't want anyone to know so.. that meant no St Mongos.” You whispered and he seemed surprised, like a deer in headlights. You gave a reassuring smile.

“It's alright, pretty boy.” You cooed and ran your fingers threw his hair and tugged softly at the roots. He gave a low sigh and closed his eyes.

“There are rules for that, to keep the doctors quiet, you know.” He whispered and you slowly nodded, biting your bottom lip. He peaked one of his eyes open and tugged your lip from between your teeth. “I know.. my parents are pretty paranoid.” You mumbled.

He nodded and slowly got up to his knees, running his free hand along the scar, rolling you over onto your stomach, you obeyed easily. He leaned down and kissed the bottom half of the scar, making you smile into the pillow you were hugging. “Do you…” His voice trailed off and you hid a bit into your pillow. He frowned and crawled up further to kiss the back of your neck. As if to tell you he was there. You were safe. No one would hurt you while he was here.

“... My father was at the ministry. He uhm..” You felt pathetic, like what happened was something you deserved. You one agreed with your father, so what did that make you? You were just as bad as his mindless arrogance.

“He was voting on the bill, and donated a hefty share to get.. people like us banned from the highlands.” You whispered and you felt as his lips stilled against your lower neck. Before the kiss slowly deepened, almost bruising. “I-I guess there were people there that didn't like that. Fenrir Greyback followed my dad back home and- I guess it just so happened to be a full moon-”

Your words were getting caught in your throat. Suddenly it felt like you were being strangled. You quickly sat up and he moved off of you quickly. You turned to face him and gave him a sigh of relief. “S-sorry I- I couldn't see you, I just-”

“Shhh..” Remus tried to calm you. Leaning forward and rubbing your back carefully as he offers you his hand. You grabbed it and used it to yank him against you. You missed the security of being under him. He pressed his nose to your shoulder and you sniffled slightly.

That night was the closest you felt to Remus. It was a shock to learn his father also earned Greyback’s wrath, in much the same way.

You didn't want to leave the dorms that night, so, for the second time, you found yourself tangled up with Remus in a much more affectionate way, less intimate and more careful. That's not to say that his lazy open mouthed kisses against your skin were anything but love. And his deep thumb prints against your abdomen where he focused the frustration from your slow and careful kisses were anything but lust.

You both agreed not to label what you had. It was clear that most of what it was came from the shared experiences, the shared inflection, and of course, the terribly desperate wolves that would rather kill you both then be without the other.

It was getting harder, however. As the months went on, how you both would focus on each other after every full moon, how being tangled with each other was more gratifying than any prank Remus could ever pull, leaving his boys behind most nights, how you both couldn't seem to get enough of each other.

When Remus became a prefect, your meetings went from every weekend to every other night. You were falling for eachother, hard. You were sure you wouldn't recover from this, but instead of breaking your heart early, you simply caved to his every desire. Every question, every look, every touch was reciprocated. In turn, he caved to his obsession. Letting you consume what little sanity he had left.

Your friends noticed the change, the marks on your nape and throat, the bruised lips, the skipping breakfast and even dinner at times.

His friends noticed it too, Sirius seemed all for the idea of 'tainting a pureblood’ and James seemed happy Remus seemed to be love struck. He had spent all of his years at Hogwarts refusing love, but it seemed he fell into this one so fully and so helplessly, he had forgotten who you were.

You did too.

When summer finally came. It was like they were strangers again. You didn't even spare him a glance. Remus was desperate, it was like he was going mad without you. He knew you had called it off. He knew why you did too. He felt cheated, the one time he lets himself fall so fully and she belongs to someone else. You two had talked, you told him the last thing you needed was your parents finding out about you two. That after the last night, there was no ‘us,’ that you two never happened.

Remus was devastated, but kept it to himself. He knew by the look in your eyes that this wasn't the outcome you had hoped for. You both got too distracted with each other, with the fantasy of it all. You two never labeled what you had, so there was nothing to fight for. He wondered if you did that on purpose.

The next day after your conversation was the last night you snuck off to his dorm. It was mostly you watching him pack, the way his mother had taught him. He was telling you stories of his mother, how strong and resilient she was. How she taught him even the most mundane tasks were best done slowly. He said it in a tone that made you wonder, what exactly he could mean.

When he was finally done he crawled into bed with you. Once again, you fell asleep in eachothers arms. It was peaceful and content. It brought a smile to your face, trying to ignore the biting pain of knowing this was the last you'd have of Remus Lupin. A strange lecture and a night together.

He had changed so much of who you were, he had taught you so much more than you would've ever known alone. You were grateful life gave you him, even if it was just for a moment.

The morning would come too soon.

~~~

You loaded your things on the train, with no true attachments to anyone you were allowed to see, it was easy to just leave.

That's what you told yourself, anyway. When you sat down, next to Barty and across from Regulus, you fiddled with your book instead of reading it. Tears gathered in your eyes as Evan and Barty continued to debate who you had been seeing the past few months.

Regulus seemed not to be entertaining the conversation, focusing more on you as you sniffled. Quickly, you dismissed yourself to the bathroom. Leaving the compartment and ignoring their calls to you. Hurrying past students you didn't know with their varying looks of confusion and concern. You didn't even have time to think before your arm was grabbed.

Looking back and up you saw Remus. He was guiding you to a storage closet, you both said nothing.

He pulled you in and closed the door, and you came undone in his arms. You had kept strong about the separation, but it was tearing you apart inside. Remus had taught you to tame the voice in your head, so you knew now your reckless emotions were your own. You clung to him and sobbed, he held you close and you heard his own sniffles into your shoulder.

You were there for a while, eventually, he used his thumbs to dry your eyes, you looked at him and saw such terrifying love in his eyes. You bit your cheek and shook your head. It wasn't just love. It was desperation. Like he was begging you for an answer you surely couldn't give. You pulled away and his head hung down in defeat. You stared at him. Say it. You thought. Say it and I'm yours, Remus.

You both sat in silence for another minute or two before you sighed. Turning to open the door, still no words passed between you both.

As you walked out, your head down, you were greeted with a pair of polished black shoes. Your eyes slowly trailed up to meet the eyes of a shocked Regulus Black. His jaw tensed when he saw who was behind you. You hadn't known he followed you. Fuck.

“Regulus, it's-”

“Blood traitor.” He spat the vile insult and you felt like he slapped you. Your breath hitched and you reached forward towards him. He was young, he didn't understand. You knew the only experience he had with this was his cousin and brother both of whom, he confided in you, he felt abandoned him. You didn't know how to explain what had happened. You didn't know what to tell him. You don't know what to say. Your entire body was lit up like a live wire, and Remus spoke in a low tone.

“What was that?” He prickled and you quickly shushed him. Remus seemed startled but didn't say anything. Scoffing as Regulus marched off with another much lower repetition of the insult. You sighed and covered your eyes, feeling even more miserable now.

Remus reached out to you, wanting to comfort you again. Anything to keep you close to him. “I knew this was a bad idea.” You gave a heart broken whisper and Remus froze up, staring at you with wide eyes.

He didn't say a word as he walked to your side, moving some of your hair to behind your ear. Muttering a soft goodbye, one he figured would be his last, before he turned and walked away. Back to his compartment. He didn't want to cause any more damage.

You made it back to your compartment, Barty and Evan greeted you with concern and you waved it off. Your eyes on Regulus who was glaring at you. Luckily, the boys were distracted with their hundredth conversation of the night.

You turned to look down at your book once more. It was one Remus had given you, just to borrow, you wondered if he thought it would be an excuse. To see eachother again.

~~~

A week of being home, you were finally slipping back into routine. The first thing you knew you wanted to do was return Remus’s book. Once you did, he had lettered you back almost immediately. You knew you shouldn't, but it was hard when every part of your heart ached just to read his words. You exchanged letters with him several times over the week. With nothing else to do but write and wait for your betrothal announcement, there were days when three letters between you two simply wasn't enough.

Eventually, over the weekend, you convinced your mother to allow you to go to Hogsmeade. One hour of freedom to finally explore before your marriage, to your surprise, she agreed. You had finally gained ownership over your own vault so she allowed you to roam as long as you returned within the hour.

You did not go to Hogsmeade. You met with Remus, outside the Potters. You knew it was risky, there was a war brooding and you shouldn't be caught dead entertaining him, but you were weak. You would always be weak to him. It was just an hour, the worst mistake you had ever made. It just reinforced what you already knew. You and Remus were dangerous together. You found yourself not caring about who may have been watching. It was just a conversation and a few stray touches, but it ruined you.

Once you made it home, you watched the house elves scatter around, avoiding you. Your parents had sent you up to your room the moment you walked through the doors. They were in the living room with the Blacks, specifically Walburga and Orion.

You hadn't seen your father so furious before. Once you heard the door open, you watched through your window as the two devilish figures apparated away. You turned to your door as it slammed open. You straightened your back and avoided his eyes. “Father-”

“ ‘In the safety of our nights, I reveled in your presence. Knowing another werewolf was near brought a comforting embrace. And in your exquisite beauty, I found my heart forever captivated. You are captivating.’ “ He announced to the room and your blood ran cold. Your eyes snapped over to the drawer of your desk and realized it was open. Remus’s letters.

You looked to him and saw your mother avoiding your gaze, holding the small stack of parchment and your heart sunk to the floor.

“Father-”

“Where were you?” He demanded and you took a sharp startled breath.

“Hogsmeade, I asked mother-”

Before you could finish, he snapped his fingers and the parchment in his hand was lit ablaze. Ashes gathered at his feet and you couldn't help but let out a yelp. Covering your mouth and clenching your chest, watching as the last of Remus was burned in front of you.

“ ‘Each moment apart feels more arduous than I ever imagined. Could there be a chance, however slight, for our paths to intertwine once more?’ “ Your father spat Remus’s words back to your face and you flinched. “Where were you?” He demanded again.

“I-I went to the Potters. I went to the Potters to meet with Remus Lupin.” You sobbed out and your father gave a condescending laugh.

“You've involved yourself in filth. Do you understand that?!” He snapped at you, snatching the letters from your mother with so much force some of them flew around the room. “You have been a plight on this family since you were born! I should have sooner raised a son! I was this close to being rid of you, now the Blacks won't even take you for their disgrace of a fallen heir!”

You closed your eyes tight, bowing your head as your mother spoke up. “Where did we go wrong? You were such an obedient girl when you were younger! You used to be such a good girl, {Y/N}.”

“Don't lie to her! I will fix this. I will fix this problem. You want to entangle yourself with filth? I'll show you filth!” Your father boomed. With a wave of his hands every letter ignited. Shriveling them up to nothing but black spots on the carpet. You slowly fell to the floor and hugged yourself. Sobbing out in desperation, you wanted to go back. You wanted everything to stop throbbing and the pain to go away.

You wanted Remus.

~~~ Remus POV ~~~

Two months. Two months and none of his desperate letters got any reply. He wasn't ready for that hour to be his last goodbye. He wasn't ready to be without you yet. He wasn't ready to lose you.

He thought if he kept pushing it, kept going past the boundaries you set for yourself, you would eventually say you wanted him too. You wanted to be his and he wanted to be yours. Why was that so hard?

He spent those months moping around in his room. Bless Sirius’s soul for all he put up with. Remus would only get up to write, Sirius had to force the rest out of him. The black haired boy finally managed to drag Remus into the shower, then into the living room. Forcing him to spend time with them.

“There is a war waging! Stop worrying about that girl and drink for tonight at least.” Sirius shoved a wine glass in his hand and laughed as Remus curled up his nose in disgust. Lily walked over and pulled Remus over to the table, ready to play one of the many random muggle games she brought. Remus felt like he was going through the motions for the most part. Just doing as he was told.

There was a tap on the window, Remus ignored it. Long since learning his lesson about getting his hopes up. He focused on the cards in front of them as Lily dealt them. She had a sneaky hand, notorious for slipping them in her sleeve. His thoughts were only interrupted as Sirius muttered his name. Low and cautious.

He looked behind him and stared at Sirius who was holding up a parchment of paper, he recognized it instantly. {L/N}’s. It wasn't any normal letter. It was more of a card. “What is it?” Remus whispered, dread filling him. He knew what it was. He already knew what it was, but there was this small bit of hope that he was wrong.

Sirius looked to James who was reading it over his shoulder with a grimace. “Uh… are you sure you wanna know?” James asked cautiously, and Sirius winced.

Eventually Remus stood up and snatched the paper from them. His eyes widened and his heart stopped, slowly muttering the words to himself before Lily cautiously stood up. “What is it?”

“I don't think-” James began, and Sirius watched as Remus read it out, interrupting James.

“We, the noble and long standing house of {L/N} cordially invite you to the engagement party of..” Remus felt his words stop in his throat and Lily looked to James for an answer, he began to stutter out and over himself, before Sirius spoke up this time.

“{Y/N} {L/N} and Fenrir Greyback.” Sirius whispered and Remus crumbled the letter in his hand. No. This wasn't happening. Remus threw the invitation away and began to pace the living room, hands tangling in his hair as he clung to what little sanity he had left.

“Okay, well, let's figure this out.” James declared and Remus stopped his pacing and looked over at James with bewildered eyes.

“What?”

“Let's go crash a wedding. Well, a wedding party.” James mused and gestured to the four of them. “When is it?”

“It's tonight. Must of sent the invitation to me as a fuck you.” Remus muttered before he looked across his friends faces, slowly smiling. “You'll do this for me?” He asked softly and Sirius walked up to him, patting his shoulder. “Remus, I'll do anything to stop doing the dishes again.”

Remus gave him a glare as Sirius smiled cheekily up at him, before he turned to James who shrugged. “She makes you happy, man.” He offered before Lily leaned forward with a chime. “And no one deserves to marry Greyback.”

Remus slowly nodded and felt a rush of adrenaline. “Yeah. Yeah, let's do it.” He turned to the three, “What's the plan?”

~~~

“So let me get this straight.” Lily mused as she looked into the passenger hanging mirror, as they drove down the street like muggles. “Greyback turned this girl into a werewolf? And her parents are just going to.. marry her to him?” She scoffed and Remus nodded, clenching his jaw as he slipped his wand in his waistband.

“That's foul.” Sirius hissed with his head half out the window, smoking a cigarette. Remus once again muttered something in the affirmative.

James glanced back at Remus from where he was driving. “Okay Moony, you sure this will work? Just going to walk out with her?”

“If she'll have me.” Remus muttered and leaned back fully with a sigh. “Thanks for coming.” He mumbled.

Sirius nudged him and Remus looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Anything to ruin another pureblood legacy.”

“I'm starting to think this is more about that than helping me, Sirius.”

“Can't it be both?”

“Certainly not.”

“I'm sure it can.” Lily mused from the front seat.

“Certainly can.” James remarked and Remus groaned, followed by a fit of giggles.

“I can't believe she likes you guys.” Remus mumbled and Lily gave a startled gasp. “What? Awe, she likes us!?”

“Oh look, we’re here.” Remus interrupted her and she gasped. “Remus Lupin!”

“See ya.” He chuckled and climbed out.

The celebration was at the {L/N} manor. As Remus walked up, he was ushered in past the people getting their names checked. Not at all jarring, might you add.

His coat was taken by a house elf and another handed him a drink. He gave a small thank you and then winced when one looked at him with surprise and the other like he was dirt. His eyes scanned the full room, and they landed on the man of the hour.

He looked as slimy as he remembered. Like a sore thumb in a place like this, it just seemed to push how much of a punishment this must of been. He looked around the manor and noticed you were nowhere to be found. He remembered from your letters, your room was on the first floor. Well, time to go hunting.

~~~

You were in your room, sitting by your vanity and trying to push back the time as much as you could. Your debut was happening in thirty minutes. It was like the clock was taunting you. You sat in silence, with your mother putting the final touches on your makeup.

“You should have listened to me. You shouldn't have lied.” Your mother spoke in a cruel tone. Tutting out about your features as she did. “This wouldn't be happening. You could of been happy with that Black boy, he is friends with that Lupin kid too, you could of-”

“Could of lied to myself? Become an obedient housewife? Or sneak off with my husband's best friend behind his back?” You snarked in a calm tone and she scoffed. “If that's what you wanted, you could have had it. You are a {L/N}, yes, but you are my daughter. You should have known how to make this work for you. Without making us bring his kind into our family.”

“Ha! His kind? Mother, I think you've forgotten! I am his kind! And you're about to marry me off to the man who made me one!” You shouted, met with a firm slap across your cheek. You lifted your hand to touch the tender skin as your mother stood up and stomped to the door. “Finish up and be out here in 20 minutes, I will not wait longer than that.”

You were left in your room. It was quiet again. Your head leaned back to stop the tears that threatened to pour. You resisted the urge to cry, straightening up when you heard your door open. Taking a deep breath, figuring it to be your father. “I am still not ready.” You whispered.

“You look bloody magnificent, what else is there to do?”

That voice. Oh Merlin please.

You shot to your feet and turned to face him, startled. “R-Remus! What are you doing here?” You asked quickly, walking over to him to yank him fully into the room and close the door.

He instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist and smiled bright at you. “I've come to get you.” He whispered and you took a deep breath. “Remus, what are you talking about?” You whispered and he gave you a determined look.

“Do you trust me?”

“... yes?” You whispered and he lit up.

“Good enough, do you love me?”

“Remus-”

“Do you?” He pried and leaned closer. You took a deep breath and slowly nodded. “Yes.”

He gave a large and exaggerated sigh of relief, pulling a giggle from you. “Thank Merlin, I thought this was for nothing.” He whispered and pulled out a box from his coat pocket. Your jaw dropped and you looked around quickly before you rapidly shook your head. “Remus, don't be foolish.”

“The only thing foolish about me is not asking you to stay with me. I know this is fast, but I think I've known for a while.” He declared and opened the box. It was a modest ring, very unlike the large stone on your hand now.

“Remus-”

“Princess, I know. For once, stop thinking as a {L/N}. Think like a {Y/N}. Better, if I beg enough, would you think like a Lupin?” He begged and you gave a watery laugh. Covering your mouth with your gloved hand and shook your head, this time in amusement as he got down on one knee. He seemed to light up at your delight.

“You look like a fool.” You giggled out and he shook his head.

“Only thing that could possibly make me look like a fool now is if I brought back my mothers ring with no one attached to it, princess.” He implored and you gave another laugh. It sounded like heaven to him.

“Unless you want me on both knees? I can do that, darling, I can.” He declared and you shook your head. “Remus, get up and put the ring on my damn finger.”

He gave you the most dazzling smile as he stood. Taking your hand and throwing Greyback’s ring across the room. Giving you a goofy look as he slipped his mother’s ring on your finger. You gave him a bright smile and bit your lip. Before grabbing him by his lapels and yanking him down into a kiss. It lasted no longer than a moment before you both pulled away in a fit of giggles. “So, what's your plan to get us out of here?”

“Simple, really.” He mused and scooped up your hand and walked backwards to the door. “We run.”

Your jaw went slack and your eyes widened. “You're mad!”

“Think like a Lupin, darling.” He teased and yanked you out of the room. You have a startled yelp when you came face to face with your mother. Surely there to bring you to your debut. You looked at Remus who bit the corner of his lip and yanked you along.

In another fit of giggled and young foggy foolishness. You both ran. Ran past your mother, who made no move to stop you, past the ballroom, past several guests, when you were finally noticed you ran right past your shouting father and a rather angry looking Greyback.

You ran after Remus, eventually he stopped by a car, and you laughed. “You came in a muggle car!?” You exclaimed in delight and he smiled. “Get in, will ya!?”

You hurried in and bumped into Sirius, looking up at him with wide eyes as Remus closed the door behind them, “Drive!”

“Congratulations, pretty girl.” Sirius spoke up. “Lovely dress.”

“Thank you.”

You gave him a bright smile and looked to the front seat, James focusing on the road and Lily looking behind her seat and waving. “Hey! We met once before, nice to meet you officially!” She introduced herself with a calm that was certainly not matching the manic sounds outside the car. “My name is Lily! Lily Evans. Looks like we match.” She mused and flashed her ring. You couldn't stop smiling like an utter fool. “Nice to meet you!”

“This is Sirius Black.” She introduced, and Sirius leaned forward with a nod, you have a brief greeting, before she turned back to the front and put her hand on James’s arm. “This is James Potter, my lovely fiancé.” She chimed as your eyes locked with a stupid love sick looking Remus.

“Have I mentioned how I love your friends?” You whispered and he leaned forward and took your lips for his own.

Lily was curious when you didn't respond and glanced back, just in time for Sirius to complain. “Merlin, why am I stuck back here with the horny teens!?"

831 notes · View notes

kyseya · 5 months ago

Text

Backstory - farm brothers

So it’s fairly clear that Weston and Lucas are not normal people. Surprise, surprise they’re killers. I wanted to have a little Texas chainsaw massacre slasher vibe but don’t know if that worked very well.

Basically they lure(or people just end up there by themselves) folk to their farm and kill them. Though there are instances where they let some walk away without a scratch, but that’s only if they’re needed, will definitely be missed and could potentially be traced back there, and haven’t the slightest clue what’s truly going on at the farm. The Callaghan brothers can’t have anyone running their mouth, you know.

Their parents were pieces of shit and only had kids to lessen the work load. The farm belonged to their fathers side of the family. their mother had never planned to marry their father but an unexpected pregnancy and pressure from others made them stay together. The two of them were miserable with each other, always fighting and blaming the other partner. The mother was mostly mad about having to spend the rest of her days on a ‘dirty farm’ and work. The father hated being married to a vile, selfish woman who barely helped with anything. His own parents were old and his siblings had quickly moved far away to prevent having anything to do with the farm, which meant everything landed on him.

It was the mother who began using her son as a helping tool. Tasks like sweeping, feeding the animals, collecting the eggs and cooking simple meals were passed to him. At first, when Weston’s dad found out he was furious. But not because it came at Weston’s expense, no, it was because he saw it as a sign of ultimate laziness.

The earliest memories Weston has is of his parents fighting over him. He remembers when his father would reprimand his mother about using him to do her labour(he wanted her to suffer the same tiring days he does) while she screamed back. But then it stopped and his father would no longer complain. Nearly a year after that his little brother was born, and of course he became the one taking care of him after he didn’t have to nurse anymore.

Lucas followed his older brother everywhere. He was his second shadow when he went around and did his chores. It was fine with weston, he wouldn’t admit it but it became a comfort knowing he was a hero to someone. It made life easier. Unfortunately their parents wanted to put Lucas to work too, the moment they considered him old enough. That wasn’t the worst part though. Their mood soured significantly over the years and they verbally abused them on a daily basis, a couple shoves and blows were hard to avoid. You’d think they’d be happier with the easier load.

Weston would have been able to take it ifd only been him, but seeing his younger sibling being treated as dirt too, that wouldn’t fly. The hatred grew stronger each day. When it had boiled over the edge, the older one had decided on a plan. They would kill their parents. Sadly, they were too young at the moment, there was no way they’d be able to overpower two adults as they currently were. They would have to wait until they were older. And so they did. Years they waited for the right opportunity. The abuse and work never stopped, in fact, the older they got the more take they had to preform. Eventually everything was done by them and nothing was done by their parents. They finally got what they wanted, total freedom from the harsh farm life.

The day Weston told Lucas the plan to kill their parents, he had expected a little pushback from him, but he was surprised when Lucas was totally in on it. One might say he was even excited.

It was really easy to murder them. You just had to corner each one when they were alone and then slice their neck. The kids had far outgrown the adults, they were no match for them anymore.

After their mother and fathers death the brothers took over the farm. Despite all the bad memories they still liked it there. It was rather peaceful(especially when no one criticised you on how to feed the pigs), plus, they didn’t have much of an education beyond reading and writing. Where would they even go? At least on the farm they had food and shelter.

The killing didn’t stop though. It appeared the first murder had awakened something in the both of them. They both had found out they enjoyed it. The power and pleasure in seeing their parents fear stricken faces was too good of a high not to experience again.

Although, they might make one exception to the killing if you’re cute enough~

#yandere imagines #kyseya oc #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #kyseya’s dungeon #yandere #possesive #weston callaghan oc #Lucas Callaghan #the Callaghan brothers #yandere farmer #farmer yandere #yandere farmer brothers #Yandere brothers #yandere farmers #country yanderes

713 notes · View notes

sold2vlaykz · 2 months ago

Text

Man without love

Prompt: the reality of having a ‘partner.’ That’s a murderous psychopath/sociopath

Featuring- Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt, art the clown

Michael Myers

He’s a schizophrenic serial murderer who doesn’t have an inch of empathy.

Dealing with Michael is incredibly hard, he doesn’t try to make things better or help you understand him.

Wounds- he’d come home covered in wounds, you’d hear his heaving and slight grunts because he doesn’t treat them.

He’ll wrap it up with gauge or duct tape, but that’s not really going to help a gunshot wound.

Though he has incredible durability, you can only imagine the constant pain of untreated injuries, despite him ignoring how dire they are.

There are rare times where’d he’d let you help, but you can only imagine how disgusting it is to dig into his skin, all rotten and sticky.

His grunts and groans under his mask.

Smell- Michael smells like blood and rotten flesh, many of his wounds are infected, causing him to smell bad.

He doesn’t shower, he doesn’t find the need too. His only desire is to kill and kill again.

The house begins to smell from time to time, sometimes he’d bring the bodies here and just leave them hidden to rot.

Neighbors begin to complain because of how foul it is, the police had been eventually called but Michael had hid the bodies so well.

They dismissed it as a dead animal carcass likely lying around, rats or a stray cat.

It’s unsure to say if he’d let you wash his clothes or not.

Disappearance- After a huge fight he’d just disappear, bloody and wounded. Sometimes he’d go for months leaving you to think he’d dead only to reappear when your life starts to mend itself again.

A weird feeling you’re being watch despite not having seen him in over a month.

You can imagine the toll it’s taking on your heart, to think your all alone in the house only to see him watching you from the shadows is enough to make your heart go faster than it’s supposed too.

Abuse- Michael is the type to check you, wanting to have the power. You’re arguing with him, that could end fatal.

How you met was him literally just wanting you, not yearning, not something calling him to, just something to grab along the way.

Almost like an object, the same way he feels about grabbing a brand new knife.

He wouldn’t hit you psychically but there would be some occasions of you being ‘sliced.’ Or at least choked in a threatening way.

Rules- you aren’t allowed to do a lot of things, leave the house for a long time, bring people back to the house.

Especially your family, for their safety. They’d likely either end up dead or injured, only way leaving completely unscathed is if you managed to convince him to stay hidden.

And would take a lot to convince him.

Obsession- he doesn’t love you, he just wants you. He’s completely incapable of feeling love, joy, complete devoid of it.

His obsession or wanting could lead to him killing male friends of yours, or your friends in general.

Protection- despite all his negatives, he’s very protective. You feel threatened? He’ll handle it. It’s unlikely that it hasn’t already been handled.

He’s always watching you, just incase you either try to escape or potential danger.

There are rare moments where you two just stand side by side, silence around you comfortably.

In a weird way he watches you sleep, keeping you safe and untouched.

Or when you’re touching up his wounds and you can see pain slightly leave his eyes when you’re finished.

Bo Sinclair

He’s a traumatized narcissist, bipolar and jealous.

Abuse- There’s generally occasions where he can’t control his anger and hits you.

Calling you names, subtle slurs. Getting mad at you for the littlest of things.

Bipolar- he’s very bipolar with how he feels with you, one minute he’s angry, cursing and belittling you. The next your in his bed laying on his chest cuddled up.

After cursing at you, or even hitting you he’d expect you to forgive him right away, wanting to have sex when and wherever despite what he’s done.

If you didn’t you’ll be met with a neglecting Bo angry that you didn’t what to ‘fuck’ him. Even if you say no, you rarely have a choice in the matter.

Porn- his walls are covered in the abuse of other woman, from magazines or polaroids of what he’s done to them.

He’ll brag about it, flex it off especially in an argument.

Despite this there are times he’ll come to you with his apology, trying to have you suck up to him. Give in, if you don’t he’ll just be even more pissed off and the cycle will start again.

Jealousy- Bo is typically very jealous of his brother, because of his talent and him being known as the good child.

You and Vincent don’t hang out, you rarely see him. Other than when he finally comes from the shadows and Bo starts belittling him.

If you compliment Vincent or say anything remotely good to his brothers Bo will be in a bad mood, calling you whore’s or just avoiding you.

Cheating- Bo doesn’t care, a pretty girl could come in and he’s all over her, ready to take some photos despite having you trapped at home.

And you? You’re not allowed to look at anyone or you’ll be met with his wrath.

Smell- he doesn’t stink exactly, but he has a weird scent. Like cigarettes, cheap cologne, and motor oil.

Hyper sexuality- He hasn’t been in a relationship in a long time, so he’ll want sex constantly even if you don’t want to he’ll make you do it anyway.

He’s very aggressive, there’s no such thing and romantic intimacy with him.

Protection- if anyone were to look at you romantically or sexually he’d beat them to a pulp, mainly because of his jealousy and nothing more.

Trauma- sometimes he’ll randomly have these PTSD attacks, he isn’t even aware of them.

He likes you to be around when they happen, you keep him calm in a sense.

Randomly just holding you as his mind flashes back to being restrained and neglected, rubbing his wrist randomly at times when he starts thinking about it.

Thomas Hewitt

He’s a manipulated mentally ill murderer, that was born into a family of incase and cannibalism.

Family manipulation- his family is a very big influence on him, they can feed things into his mind to make him jealous or suspicious of you.

Making him insecure to the point where he feels like nobody can love him, including you making him think you’re cheating or pretending to love him.

Despite not anyone being around but victims.

Trauma- despite not being aware about it he’s very traumatized, he flinches when they yell.

He gets mad at you if you don’t obey what they say just like he does.

Time- he barely has time for you, he’s too busy being ran around by his family.

There’s always something for him to do or that they want him to do, he’s the first person they call for if anything, without him the family would fall apart despite some of the neglect.

Cannibalism- he was born into a family of cannibals, so it’s natural that he began to develop the same desire for it.

Typically you have to eat what they eat, but if he has time he’ll pick you out some berries and fruits that they have.

Or any other food lying around in the fridge.

Sexual harassment- it’s not from Thomas but more so the men in his family and their desperateness.

There isn’t many woman in the household which is the reason there’s sort of incest running through it.

Thomas is quick to defend you though, sometimes leading into arguments or slight fights. Despite his defending you’d still manage to get harassed due to him not being there all the time.

Protective- if he’s there he’d defend you in a heartbeat, quick to take you away and watch after you until you feel better.

If he can he’ll hold your hand, he’ll sleep with you arms wrapped tightly like there’s an opposing threat nearby.

You want him to check outside the door because you keep hearing creaking? That’s fine. He’ll do it over and over again until he finds and kills whatever’s making that noise:

Gifts- if he finds a random pretty flower he’d give it to you.

There’s a ring on a dead girls finger? It’s yours now.

He tries his best to clean the blood off of it as much as he can.

Smell- he has his stinky days but will shower if you tell him too, usually he smells like blood and meat.

Rules- there are rules that both of he must follow meaning you must too, no going outside late at night unless you have too, no leaving the house unless you have too.

Shy intimacy- he’s too nervous to do anything with you, kiss, even looking at you for too long. He’ll hold your hand but it’d be shaking in your palm.

He would likely eventually warm up and slowly slide out of it but it would take a while.

Attachment- despite him not being around much when he is he’s very clingy, you go downstairs he goes downstairs, you go outside he goes outside, you go upstairs he goes upstairs.

It’s either you get too much space, or none at all.

Art the clown

He’s a demon, a demonic entity in human form- his only joy is when he kills others.

Taunting- He’ll taunt you in the most horrendous ways, waking you up by pretending to kill you. Chasing you for hours just for when he gets you in your clutch to laughs and play it off despite your bruises and cuts from the altercation.

Smell- He smells horrible, like feces, blood, and someone who’s shower is long overdue.

Sometimes you’d know he’s there because of the smell, or when he specifically wants to torture you he’d clean himself to rid the smell just to get dirty again.

Gifts- normally gifts are a good thing, until it’s a bloody heart or a teenagers finger. He’ll get upset or give a fake pout when you don’t like it.

Laughing at your surprised and disgusted reaction.

He’ll do it over and over again despite how tired you are, passing out on multiple occasions after seeing decapitated heads.

Abuse- He’ll stab and slice you, not fatally but enough to leave a wound.

Tying you up just for you to watch him completely gut someone open.

During the chases he’ll stop at nothing until you’re covered in your own blood with a look of terror on your face.

399 notes · View notes

hismercytomyjustice · 2 months ago

Text

Ngl I really enjoyed Via’s arc in Sinsmas. She is just SO MUCH like her father that it both delights and hurts me lol.

Their relationship is an interesting take on struggling to try to break the cycle of abuse/neglect.

Stolas grew up with his father not even knowing his name or showing him a shred of affection. He was a means to an end, a tool. The only way he’s ever received any kind of acknowledgement from his father is by doing his duty. Mastering his powers, entering into an arranged marriage, and producing an heir.

You can just so clearly see how he is trying SO HARD to give Via a different life. He wants them to be a family. For her to never doubt her parents love her. To be the father he never had.

To the point he shoves his own wants and needs so far down that he is barely holding on.

Via going from accusing him of not loving her to realizing that he loves her so much that he forced himself to play the role of a good father and husband. To the point he destroyed himself for her…

And that realization just devastates her.

Stolas getting involved with Blitz was the culmination of decades of forcing himself to be the person everyone else expected him to be. He feels he can’t be loved, but he can be useful. And maybe if he’s useful enough, people will care about him.

The reason his connection with Blitz is so strong is because both of them feel that way. The difference is that Blitz was able to create his own found family (tho it took him ages to realize it lol) while Stolas has always been alone. They’re two sides of the same coin. And while Blitz has spent the past few years healing, Stolas has been descending further into darkness because he doesn’t have that same support.

Via has absorbed so many of his insecurities. Especially the fear of not being loved or wanted despite Stolas trying SO HARD to be the perfect father to her. But he’s not. He can never be because he forgot the old adage of “put your oxygen mask on first before helping anyone else.”

I think that definitely can come across as him being neglectful of her. But to me it speaks to his desperation to be such a good father to her that he tries to hold himself to IMPOSSIBLE standards.

He doesn’t fail Via because he doesn’t care. He fails her because he keeps setting up these unrealistic expectations for their relationship. He massively overextends himself and puts his own wants and desires on the back burner so often that his life is imploding around him out of his control.

He doesn’t miss the stars with her because he doesn’t care. He misses them because he’s struggling to put his life back together after finally taking some initiative for himself. He’s trying to deal with the fallout of wanting a divorce from Stella, but he’s waited so long and he’s so overwhelmed by it all that the date slips his mind. And the instant he realizes what’s happened, he drops everything and goes looking for her.

Via keeps watching him make these promises he struggles with or fails to keep and doesn’t realize until she finds all of the happy pills how much he’s overextended himself for her sake. And because she’s her father’s daughter, she immediately thinks she’s at fault. She thinks he would be happier if he hadn’t forced himself to play house all these years for her sake.

She’s not wrong. If he’d separated from Stella years before, they’d probably all be better off. But he didn’t because of his sense of duty. Stolas’s problem is that he never advocates for himself until he reaches his literal breaking point. By then, the damage is more of a tsunami than a ripple because now his meticulously crafted house of cards is falling down around him faster than he can pick up the pieces.

Via is right that he would have been happier, but not for the reasons she thinks. He did it because he loved her, not out of obligation for her. And also because he is deeply broken and flawed.

Via’s dealing with a lot of complicated emotions too. Her father was willing to sacrifice himself for his affair partner, which she initially believes means he’s picking Blitz over her. But really it’s just Stolas trying to save the only other person in his life who understands him and who maybe cares about him.

How could he live with himself if he let Blitz die?

And it’s not like Stolas has time to sit down and think of a rational plan. He rushes to the trial because Blitz is literally about to be decapitated. And then he saves him the only way he knows how. I think part of him was also convinced that, as much as he loves Via, she might actually be better off without him because he is a wreck. He’s convinced he’s ruined his life and the lives of everyone around him.

I think this is why he doesn’t fight Stella much for custody of Via. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he genuinely thinks Stella is a more stable parent than he is and that Via will be better off with her as a result. The man also lacks a backbone too tho because his self worth is -9000.

But then Stolas doesn’t get executed. And the consequences of his actions hit him like a ton of bricks once the adrenaline and panic wears off. He saved Blitz, but at what cost? And, based on his statement in Sinsmas, it sounds like he would’ve done it all over again if given the chance. Because he’s the one who let Blitz use his grimoire even though he knew it was wrong. Because Blitz was in danger of dying because of him. And because he has a very strong sense of morality and justice too.

Dying in Blitzo’s place was a spur of the moment decision and once the dust cleared, Stolas realized how everything he’s tried to do to keep his shit together has fallen apart at the seams and now everyone knows it.

All Via can see when she looks at him now is that he’s hit rock bottom because of her. Again, not true. But Stolas has tried so hard to give her this idyllic family life, thinking that was the best thing he could do for her. Not realizing that she could see the cracks forming. She just didn’t understand why there were cracks until now.

I don’t think Via actually hates him. I think she hates herself. Convinced she’s the reason he’s hit rock bottom. Why couldn’t she see how much he was suffering? Why would he suffer so much for her? So she’s taking herself out of the equation, just like he tried to with Blitz. If she’s not in his life anymore, maybe he’ll stop killing himself to try to make her happy. Maybe he’ll stop being so miserable.

I think a big part of their arc together has been her going from thinking of Stolas as this perfect and larger than life figure to seeing him start to crumble and now getting a peek behind the curtain and realizing how much of that wasn’t real. And it scares and upsets her that her dad isn’t the perfect person he’s tried to be for her. He’s broken and hurting and she doesn’t know what to do to help because he’s spent her whole life focusing on her.

Not to say that he’s done that well. He genuinely hasn’t. He’s overcorrected so hard that he’s fucked her up in a completely different way because he’s overextended himself. He pushed himself until the illusion of a perfect happy family cracked along with him. He’s also made it difficult for her to know how to help him because he’s sheltered her so much.

I think this sometimes makes Stolas come across as selfish. He seemingly “ruined” his marriage and his relationship with his daughter for Blitz. But really it was just the pendulum swinging wildly in the opposite direction. He was so starved for happiness and connection that now he’s trying to live two separate lives and it’s just not possible and he’s falling apart even faster.

Stolas was so desperate for affection and to be of use that he lets Blitz have his grimoire, under the impression Blitz is attracted to him because Blitz literally tried to seduce him to get it. He also does all of the dirty talk because he thinks Blitz likes it.

I think he initially sets the terms for the grimoire usage because he thinks it’s a price Blitz is more than willing to pay because he showed up trying to seduce him. I think he l also just really wants an excuse to see/spend time with Blitz too. It doesn’t even cross his mind that Blitz might want anything other than sex from him. He’s once again playing a role based on what he thinks is expected of him.

It’s not until Stolas discovers he’s starting to develop feelings for Blitz that he realizes their arrangement is wrong. And the moment he realizes it, he immediately tries to make amends. He hopes Blitz will admit he has feelings for him too, but is willing to step away if not. But he also cares about him so much, he makes sure to give him the Asmodean Crystal so he can freely make the choice.

Meanwhile he has no idea Blitz will just view this as another person trying to abandon him or look down on him. Because Blitz struggles with self worth too and believes the only way people will care about him is if he can be useful. Blitz has a deep seated fear of abandonment while Stolas fears no one could ever love him just for himself. He offers Blitz the crystal to let him know his feelings are genuine and to gauge Blitz’s too.

All of this is to say that I think Via and Stolas will reconcile, hopefully sooner rather than later. I think Via needs some time to process who her father actually is vs who she thought he was. And both of them need to be able to forgive themselves/grant themselves some grace so they can finally meet each other in the middle like Stolas has finally managed with Blitz. Stolas needs to accept Via is grown up now and he can’t shield her from the negatives of the world forever. Meanwhile Via needs to understand everything doesn’t have to be so black and white.

#helluva boss #stolas #blitzø #octavia #sinsmas #I had more feelings than I thought I did…#in this essay i will #hismercy’s musings

292 notes · View notes

qwimblenorrisstan · 6 months ago

Text

Insufficient Pt. 2 | Azriel x Reader

Summary: Following the disastrous breakup between you and Azriel, Nesta invites you out to a night at Rita’s, where you then discover that you might not be as safe in Night Court as you think.

Word Count: ~ 4.3k

Warnings: Stalkings, nasty public bathrooms, alcohol, drunk people, obsessive behavior, painfully bad description of blackjack, etc

A/N: ok so I kinda switched gears with this one, I’m trying to flesh it out before introducing another man, but lmk if you liked it, or if you have any opinion on where you’d like it to go, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Only a week had passed since the disastrous breakup between you and Azriel, and as it turns out, it was harder to get rid of him than you’d originally thought.

Beforehand, he’d always seemed so controlled and stoic, that even being one of the main problems in your relationship was that he couldn’t ever let go of control. Being in charge meant he felt safe and secure, regardless of his feelings.

He had always seemed almost above you at times, above groveling and begging in bed, above communicating his feelings and emotions normally as he just expected you to read his mind or moods despite the way he hid any kernel of emotion from his body language. However, all of that seemed to have changed.

After the breakup, you’d gone back to working in the bakery, working specifically in the back making bread with your family, so you wouldn’t have to see him when he came in, probably trying to hunt you down. The heat the ovens gave off also seemed to repel his shadows, for whatever reason, so they wouldn’t spy on you any more than they already had. Though he had come asking for you before at the counter, your family had always shut him down. You felt bad about it for a second, but thinking back, you also didn’t. He’d chosen his words, and he was only sorry because you were his mate.

You’d moved back into the family home for now, your relatives surrounding you in love and empathy, and plenty of righteous fury regarding Azriel, and even a few “I told you so.”’s from the older generations.

Nesta would come by to visit now and then, having tea with you and updating you on all the latest news and developments, if not just funny stories to bring your spirits up, such as Nyx swallowing an ancient coin that he got from Rhys’ desk, only to poop it out shiny and clean a few days later, or how Cassian got so drunk he jumped from the top of the townhouse into a nearby pool that belonged to a neighbor.

On the bad days, she would offer some quiet company, or even open up to you about similar things that happened to her in the past.

Specifically, her past relationship.

She didn’t give a name, simply the details that he was a poor man’s family, his father abused his mother, and he was no better. She only was going to marry him to let Feyre take better care of Elain, really, even if it ended up with her getting beaten by some pathetic man. And then she told you of the night she rejected him, and tried to break it off, and how she almost barely got away before he could take what wasn’t his.

You both sat in silence after that, your hand in hers.

Eventually, though, the conversation continued. You told her of the flowers that would mysteriously appear on your windowsill each morning. Neither of you knew how Azriel knew what room you occupied in your family’s home, or even how he knew your address or favorite type of flower, Ditch Lily’s, but he knew. Or the letters you received nightly, always carried by some bird of prey to your window, and would leave it there.

She snorted when you told her about the letters.

“He’s being ridiculous, seriously, even Cassian isn’t that bad. He only cares because you’re his mate, not because of who you actually are, and until he gets his shit together I wouldn’t even open them.”

She said, taking a sip of the herbal tea your mother had prepared for both of you. It was a special recipe, one that some of your distant relatives in Autumn Court had created, originally meant to relieve muscle tension and stress from overuse of magic, and even assist in alleviating burnout. You were mildly convinced that there might be some healer blood in you, because of that half of the family.

You could’ve sworn you felt a tiny tug on the bond at the mention of Azriel.

“I know, I’ve just been burning them, but he won’t leave me alone. Every shadow feels like they’re watching me now, and I just…”

You sighed, trailing off as your hand went to rub the bridge of your nose, and she gave a hum of acknowledgment, finishing your sentence for you.

“Don’t feel safe in the one place that you used to only feel safe in?”

You glanced up, eyes widening a bit. That was precisely how you felt.

“Yes, how..?”

She took another sip of her tea, glancing over to the window and looking out of it, eyes almost glazing over as some memory must’ve come to light.

“Beneath the House of Wind is the library, though I’m sure you’ve already heard of it. The priestesses stayed there, and it was always quiet, and something about it made me feel…safe, even when I was in an unfamiliar body in new surroundings, the world in the middle of a war.”

She said, and you nodded, waiting for her to go on. You knew plenty of the library beneath the House of Wind and how massive it was.

“One night, me and Feyre both descended nearly to the bottom, for what I can barely remember, and there were two twin males. Sent by Hybern, I think. They were taken out before they could do any harm, but the damage was still done. It took me quite a while to think of the library as a safe space after that.”

The glaze in her eyes faded away as she took another sip of her tea, looking more relaxed than before. She looked over at you, her eyes meeting yours.

“How did you get it back like that? A safe place, I mean.”

You then asked, and she looked away for a moment to think, a common habit of hers. One you’d noticed by now. Always noticing things, something you must’ve learned from Azriel, and as much as you hated the reminder of him, it was useful regardless.

“Changing environments helped me. During and after the war, we were always traveling a lot, which forced me to appreciate the thought of home more. Then again, home was also linked with Cassian for me.”

She said, thinking aloud before eventually speaking again.

“I’d try moving around a bit. Exercise helped me, especially travel and hiking, or breathing exercises. I could teach you a few if you’d like?”

She offered. You would be a fool to refuse any sort of advice or help from Nesta Archeron, and she’d never led you astray before, so you nodded, and she smiled brightly, clearly happy to show you.

The next few hours were spent in the backyard on whatever flat surface there was, practicing impossibly stretched that seemed like whoever made them wanted to turn you into a pretzel. Nesta managed them just fine but didn’t laugh when you fell, only helped you back up, telling you all about how when she’d first started training with Cassian, it had been just as hard for her too.

She’d even outright refused to do it the first few times.

However, after that, she showed you cool-down exercises and helped you practice breathing techniques.

“Wait, so…I hold it for how long?”

You asked, and she held back a giggle at the sheer confusion in your tone as she answered.

“Twenty seconds, but you can-“

“TWENTY??”

At that, she burst out laughing, and before you knew it you were laughing too, both of you laying back on the grass of the yard and hoping none of the seasonal bugs crawled up onto you. She finally sat up a moment later, wiping tears from her eyes as she stood and helped you up.

“Build up from five, you can start at five seconds and build up, is what I was going to say.”

She said, and you sighed.

“And I thought I was in shape before.”

You said in an amused tone, and she snorted again, only for the both of you to look over where you heard another loud snort and see Cassian standing, leaning against a large tree in the backyard. He was grinning widely as ever, his eyes full of pure glee.

“Having fun without me, ladies?”

He asked, putting a hand over his heart in a dramatic expression as he rolled his eyes, acting fatally wounded.

“Honestly, I’m hurt-“

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence before you barreled into him, giving him a tight hug that he chuckled at and returned, ruffling your hair. Nesta was soon to follow, and hugging him in a much more elegant manner than you.

When you finally separated, you spoke.

“Gods, I’ve missed you. We should let him come to tea time, too, Nesta.”

You said with a grin, and Nesta rolled her eyes playfully, squeezing his bicep. A tiny twinge of jealousy seemed to echo down the bond, as if Azriel had seen you hugging Cassian, and didn’t appreciate it. Another tug on the bond that you shut out, now hyper aware of any shadows.

“You’d be surprised at how much of a gossip he is, it’s never-ending with the Devlon-rumors.”

She said, and his expression shifted to playfully offended as he swatted at Nesta’s hand. You giggled, and Nesta glanced over at you, before gaining a thoughtful expression.

“We could do Rita’s tonight if you could make it?”

She asked, and Cassian gave a little nod as if also agreeing with this. You didn’t have any plans tonight, so why not spend a night out with your friends? It would certainly help you get your mind off of things.

“Sure, what time?”

You asked, head cocked slightly to the side. Nesta shrugged.

“Is 6 good for you?”

She asked, and you nodded in confirmation. She gave you one last smile before Cassian scooped her up to fly away.

“See you tonig-“

Her words were cut off with a little shriek as Cassian launched into the air at maximum speed just to spook her like he always did, and you giggled to yourself, heading back inside the family home. Unbeknownst to you, a shadowy figure lurked behind that tree after Cassian left, watching.

To be fair, the shifts were switched out now and then so everyone had a break, but he usually ended up babysitting. Despite his objections and complaints, he was good at it, sort of a baby-whisperer.

“Who was that pretty lady?”

He asked, a slight touch of color on his cheeks as you smirked with a knowing look.

“That was my friend, Nesta. She’s taken.”

You clarified for him, noticing the way his face fell in disappointment all too clearly before you patted your baby cousin on the head, and walked up to your temporary room. Maybe Nesta’s idea of traveling a bit and exploring different places was good. You had all of immortality ahead of you, after all. Might as well use it well.

You walked to your room, before going to the bathroom attached to it. You were more than lucky to get a room with a bathroom attached, and you knew it, since everyone bickered over who got to shower first and who had been in there too long for the normal bathroom in the hall. Stripping your clothes off, you turned the water on, letting it settle to a warm, but refreshing temperature.

You went through your entire hair routine and washed your body off, shaving and everything. Tonight was an everything shower. You wanted to look your best at Rita’s tonight, and you desperately needed a confidence boost after what Azriel had said to you.

Nearly half an hour later, your hair done all pretty, makeup on, and a pretty red dress gracing your form. You’d even painted your nails yourself, forgoing the usual stylist you went to for it.

By the time 6 had rolled around, you were almost to Rita’s, walking down the bustling streets of Velaris as the cool air blew by, the sun already beginning to set as early as it did in this season.

The moment you walked into the bar, already full of people, it only took a few seconds to spot Nesta and Cassian inside. Cassian was drinking and laughing his ass off with some other males, and doing arm wrestling that he never seemed to lose at, and Nesta was playing poker, and by the looks of it had already won a few games before based on the sly smile she wore.

You walked over and ordered your drink, nothing too strong, and decided that you could take a little time away from Nesta for now. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, considering she’d been listening to all of your problems every time she’d come over. It was probably best if you gave her a little alone time for herself.

Walking over to a table to try your hand at what looked like a boring game of blackjack, you were about to sit down when something captured your attention.

A lone shadow lurking beneath your feet.

You swallow, getting a weird feeling about it, but you simply stomped one foot down on it before sitting down, determined not to let something so small ruin this night for you. The cards were dealt, and you received a queen of spades and eight of clubs, and as the game progressed, you took risks, choosing to hit, and somehow miraculously not going over 21 the entire time. You felt the lightest tug on the bond, but ignored it.

It was mildly suspicious, considering how bad you usually were at cards. That was until you spied the same wispy shadow from earlier on the deck of cards, hiding in the normal shadow of it. It was discreetly moving cards, changing them for you to win.

Now incredibly annoyed, you excused yourself from the game and walked to the bathroom. Rita’s bathrooms weren’t extremely clean, but you just needed a place to take a breather.

You pushed the door open, not surprised by the few females in here who were either redoing their makeup or drunk out of their minds and crying. Oddly enough, though, they filed out almost as soon as you entered, some giving you off looks as you entered one of the stalls, sliding the lock closed, and sat on top of the toilet seat, pulling your knees to your chest.

Sure, things were weird tonight, but it was probably just Azriel trying to play mind games with you. He was a Spymaster. His entire job revolves around torturing information out of people and playing mental gymnastics to get what he wants from them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was now hyper-fixated on you, determined to get you back if only to feel better about himself.

You heard the bathroom door open, barely creaking as the lightest footsteps became apparent to you. Probably another drunk woman, or someone looking to fix their makeup or outfit. Nothing out of the usual, you told yourself, even as your body began stiffening and your heart rate sped up. A lock clicked. The bathroom door.

You couldn’t get a decent whiff of the stranger, whether it be the alcohol or the reek of the bathroom in and of itself. Not daring to open up the stall or peek out, you became still as a statue.

Nearly silent footsteps.

A knob creaked, probably the sink, and water began running at its maximum speed.

Another sink turned on.

Then another.

Until all the sinks were on.

Your heart began beating faster. Why would anyone turn all the sinks on, if not to cover up the noise of something else, or someone else making loud noises?

Louder, bolder footsteps in your stall’s direction.

Glancing down beneath the door, you could see a pair of thick, black leathery boots now standing in front of it. You recognized those. How could you not?

A certain shadowsinger’s shoes. His work shoes.

You didn’t dare move, even as you heard a knock against the stall. It would’ve seemed polite in any other situation, but not here, not now.

“I know you’re in there.”

His quiet voice spoke, still filled with that tension you’d seen in his eyes the day you’d decided to finally break free of him.

He knocked again.

“I’m sorry for what I said, I shouldn’t have said that, if you would please, please, just give me another chance, I’ve been trying to talk with you for days but you were busy, and when I saw you here tonight, I thought that maybe we could talk this out-“

He said, voice filled with pleading and desperation as he rambled on. You’d never heard him express so much emotion before in his voice. It was interrupted by the bathroom door almost being opened, despite it being locked. A bang on the door, and Nesta’s muffled voice was heard through the door.

“Bullshit, I’m getting a worker..”

Azriel must’ve known he had limited time now, because he banged on the stall door louder, a bit more panicked.

“Please, just open the door. I’m sorry, just let me in. We can figure this out.”

He said, now shaking the stall door with the handle, and you didn’t dare move. Didn’t speak, didn’t do anything other than sit and pray to whatever gods you believed in. The Mother. The Cauldron. Anything. Whatever would make him go away. You had known the respectful, kind Azriel. The one that had waited centuries for Mor and not pushed anything, even when she openly went to other males and pushed him away. The one who wouldn’t push any boundary, but this Azriel…you didn’t know him.

The jingling of keys outside the bathroom door was heard, the worker Nesta must’ve called, and a frustrated sigh came from the voice outside your stall.

You could almost see it now, him angrily running his hands through his inky black hair, shadows swirling and writhing in agitation as he tried to think on how to fix this.

“You can’t hide from me forever, you’re just confused right now. I will get you back.”

He spoke finally, before the bathroom door burst open, and his presence was completely gone. You released a shaky breath, not daring to move still, even as the worker cursed and began turning all the sinks off.

“Haven’t seen it that jammed in a long time,”

She muttered, walking out eventually, you unlocked the stall door when you felt alone, only to swing it open and Nesta to pop into your vision. You almost screamed, jolting backward and slamming your head into a wall. She raised her hands in mock innocence.

“Easy, it’s just me. I figured you might be in here when I couldn’t find you, and…..”

She looked you up and down, noticing how shaken and pale you seemed, and frowned. Tilting her head sideways, she asked the obvious.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You looked all around the bathroom, finding no sign of him anywhere, no moving shadows or dark presences.

“He was here, Nesta. He kept begging me to come out and—I don’t know what he would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up.”

You said, tears welling up before falling as you began sobbing. She frowned deeper, now scowling as she pulled you against her chest, worry filling her expression.

“It’s alright, I’ll take you home.”

She said, helping walk you out of the bathroom, and as she passed by Cassian she grabbed the big Illyrian by the ear and dragged him out of the bar, outside with fresh air. Cassian immediately looked concerned, brows furrowed, but one look from Nesta was enough for him to nod grimly as his expression darkened, the two of them no doubt communicating mentally as most mates did.

He scooped the both of you up, and despite the alcohol in his system, managed a decent flight to your house. He gave you a pat on the head before Nesta walked you inside, and as soon as the two of you were in the privacy of your room, she spoke.

“Look, I’ll tell Rhys to keep an eye on him, but it’s not like Azriel will listen to anything Rhys orders him to do regarding…this. Just…be careful.”

She said in a hushed tone, and you nodded weakly.

“I can’t stay here. Not when he’s..watching and following me.”

Nesta gave a little nod, as she understood, but she still looked concerned. She was friends with Azriel, you knew as much, but even this was pushing it.

“I have family in Autumn, I could go find them.”

You suggested, and she sighed.

“You do realize he could just have one of his shadows follow you? Unless you left without telling anyone, then…”

The both of you shared a glance, and in a moment, understood what you needed to do to get away. A stalker problem wasn’t one that you thought you would have, but Azriel was obsessive and possessive, even after you’d thrown out all the flowers he’d left, and burnt all the letters you’d given him. He wouldn’t stop at anything, no matter what boundaries you tried to set.

You dragged the duffel bag out from under your bed, the same one you had used to pack your things the day you’d left and began shoving clothes into it, clothes that would suit a few days of travel in the wilderness. You nearly tore your dress off, shoving dark clothing that covered almost every bit of your skin.

If you headed through the main routes of the Court traveling system, Azriel could easily find you. The mating bond would only make it easier from there.

Nesta began helping, choosing clothes from your closet that she deemed acceptable and neatly arranging everything in the duffel bag.

“Are you going to tell your family?”

She asked quietly, and you sighed.

“My grandmother, she’d understand. She fled Autumn when she was younger, some long story about escaping a lover from the royal family.”

You said as you continued packing, and hurried down the stairs. Everyone was asleep this late, except for your grandmother for her nightly tea session. She was sitting in the living room, sipping away, and her eyes shifted to you. Despite her young form, her eyes were old and carried a wisdom you couldn’t explain.

“Grandma, I can’t explain, but-“

“You need to leave, I understand. Under the stairs, there is food. I expected this. Find your great aunt in Autumn.”

That made you pause for a moment, eyes widening, a little twinkle in her eye, and a small mischievous smirk made its way onto her face as she saw your confusion.

“I am not nearly as oblivious as you think I am, now go. Time is of the essence.”

She said, making a little waving motion, and you hurried off to find the little place under the stairs, opening the tiny area beneath it through the small cabinet door, rations were stashed there just like she’d said. You grabbed them, and hurried back up the stairs, and walking into your room you shoved it into the now-full duffle bag and zipped it up. Nesta gave you a confused look when she saw all the pre-prepared food you somehow had, but you only shrugged and she moved on.

“You’re going to need a way to travel, it’ll be thousands of miles to Autumn.”

She said, and you sighed, looping your arm through the handles of the duffle bag and throwing it over your shoulder as you hurried down the steps again, trying to be quiet for the sake of your sleeping family.

Nesta followed you out of the front door as you shut it, Cassian still standing outside, quietly watching with that same grim look on his face as you hopped your neighbor's fence, running across the mass of property they had in the backyard, straight to the small horse stables they had. You went in and opened the first one you could find, a dark-colored mare with a splotchy white stripe down her face, and some white near her hooves.

Pulling the winter coat off of her the gentlest you could, you scrambled to find a bridle that fit the mare as she stomped nervously, and you eventually found one and slipped it on, the horse not seeming eager to get the bit in its mouth, even though you managed to get it in.

Nesta caught up with you and glanced from you to the horse.

“You are crazy.”

She said though she had a slight smirk as she said it. You sighed, grabbing the reins and leading the mare outside of its stall, and you glanced over to Nesta.

“Give me a leg up?”

You asked with a small attempt at a grin, and she sighed, shaking her head in fond exasperation as she held her hands out for you to put your foot in, and you did, and she counted down from three before hoisting you up over the horse.

The large animal did not seem happy about that, either. But despite its protests, and the fact that you were riding it bareback because taking care of a bridle, saddle, stirrups and more was probably more than you could handle, you managed.

“Tell Rhys to ignore anyone complaining of a missing horse for me, will you?”

You said with that weak little half-grin, and she returned it.

“Sure, I can manage that.”

She said in an amused tone.

A moment of silence passed, before she swallowed, and spoke.

“Be careful. Don’t get yourself killed.”

She said, and you nodded, laughing softly.

“I won’t. Once I’m..safe, I’ll figure out a way to let you know. I promise.”

The inky mark of your oath spread around both of your wrists, reminding you of the promise. You didn’t know how you’d tell her without anyone else, or a specific shadowsinger catching wind of where you were, but you would figure it out.

The wind blew by, and you swallowed again.

“Well…I guess this is goodbye.”

“For now.”

She replied, and you nodded.

“For now.”

And with that, she gave a single nod and began walking back over to Cassian, who offered a dip of his head in goodbye. You gently nudged the horse with your foot, gathering up the reigns, and it jolted forward, taking any excuse to run wild after being cooped up in a stall for so long.

It hopped the fence easily, despite how you almost fell off and began bounding off before you adjusted it Southeast, where you would skirt the boundaries of Night Court, and then head to Autumn.

Into Autumn, where freedom loomed, and into Autumn, where the threat of more than just your self-discovery loomed as well.

Tags:

@tele86

@cleverzonkwombatsludge

@starofanotherworld

@araneea92

@cherryinsalemverse

@sunfoxmartell-blog

@problemfinder

@emptyporsche

@mulansaucey

@meshellexplosionmurder

@rcarbo1

@dannydeivto

@helloevilmuffins

@bagelsharry

@fairydustblossom

@swiftie-4-lifes-stuff

@melmo567

@myromanempiree

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

@fxckmiup

#acotar fanfiction #writers on tumblr #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #nesta supremacy #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #nesta acotar #nessian #acotar #fanfic writing #writers #writers block #writer #female writers #cassian acotar

637 notes · View notes