#he's just. he could be so much better than he is in canon. cries.

[dandyshucks]

sorry for making the character nearly unrecognizable in my redesign. it will happen again o7

[lionblaze03-2]

personally I don’t hate gray wing nearly as much as everyone else because he’s a great example of having rose colored glasses just because ‘well, he’s family’, and not realizing until far too late that that essentially ruined his life and made him amount to almost nothing. Because clear sky is his brother, he wants to assume the best of him. Surely, my brother would never. Surely he didn’t mean it like that. Surely he’ll do better next time. He’s my brother. He COULDN’T be a bad guy. So he keeps giving him chances, over and over and over again, until it’s completely destroyed him. Until he can no longer breathe, his lungs full of toxic smoke that clear sky abandoned him to breathe in, until he is under his claws, nearly killed under the moonlight, until his people are battered again and again, until borders become inevitable. But he never, ever realizes, because- it’s his brother. Surely, his brother will do better next time. Surely, he didn’t mean it. Surely, he will change.

And believing that is the death of him.

[sunnami]

❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders + lily x reader.

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society. 

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black. 

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun. 

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways. 

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun. 

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused. 

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.” 

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt. 

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?” 

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?” 

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.” 

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.” 

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—” 

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society. 

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly. 

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.” 

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?” 

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it. 

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!” 

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity. 

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give. 

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress. 

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry. 

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight. 

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat. 

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period. 

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then— 

“That’s Sirius.” 

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit. 

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.” 

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!” 

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.” 

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either. 

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.) 

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.” 

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.” 

You grimace. “Which cousin?” 

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.” 

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.” 

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.” 

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.” 

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.” 

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice. 

You nod. 

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.” 

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe. 

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.) 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.” 

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you. 

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.” 

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?” 

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?” 

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.” 

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.” 

“Oh, Harry. . .” 

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?” 

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath. 

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly. 

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?” 

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.” 

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?” 

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes. 

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.” 

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be. 

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”  

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.” 

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space. 

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered. 

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved. 

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease. 

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open. 

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision. 

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.” 

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears. 

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!” 

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.” 

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.” 

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked. 

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?” 

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations. 

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?” 

Were you? 

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend! 

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize. 

Then, you find it. 

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face. 

It’s a space on that wall just for you. 

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.” 

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much. 

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.” 

That’s all you say before you run out of the door. 

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.) 

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe. 

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.” 

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.” 

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well. 

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.” 

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes. 

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.” 

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!” 

You don’t look back. 

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.” 

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair. 

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.” 

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you. 

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?” 

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks. 

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!” 

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?” 

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.” 

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.” 

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater. 

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra. 

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.” 

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more. 

“Certain,” You respond, yawning. 

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones. 

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!” 

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out. 

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came. 

“I know,” You say defeatedly. 

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.” 

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.” 

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?” 

“I don’t know,” You say honestly. 

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora. 

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—” 

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well. 

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.) 

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.” 

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.” 

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home. 

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order. 

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips. 

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.” 

“I’m always right.” You pout. 

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.” 

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back. 

How lucky you are. 

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen. 

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly. 

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.” 

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!” 

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?” 

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.” 

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.” 

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway. 

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.” 

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.” 

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will. 

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!” 

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.” 

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?” 

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.” 

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.” 

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.” 

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.” 

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?” 

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror. 

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?” 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.” 

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll. 

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.” 

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them. 

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.” 

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?” 

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.” 

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.” 

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness. 

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters. 

The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement. 

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue. 

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead. 

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.” 

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?” 

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor. 

“No!” 

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice. 

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh. 

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?” 

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need. 

“Expulso!” 

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down. 

“Accio wand!” 

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense. 

“Peter?” You call out. 

“Crucio!” 

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt. 

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!” 

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.” 

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.” 

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat. 

“Defodio!” 

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground. 

That just leaves one more problem. 

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.” 

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.” 

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.” 

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.” 

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die,  s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.” 

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow. 

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work. 

You just wanted to rest now. 

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words. 

“Avada Kedavra.” 

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms. 

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man. 

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.” 

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely. 

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?” 

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?” 

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?” 

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.” 

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?” 

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors. 

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!” 

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.” 

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.) 

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus. 

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains. 

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.) 

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by. 

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for. 

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

[cherienymphe]

Teenage Dirtbag (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

~

Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest as you walked down the street. It was late, much too late to be walking down the streets of Kildare County by yourself, but it was the only solution you could find to allow yourself to think. You just needed some time to think, that was all, and once that was over, you had every intention of going back to the party.

Most especially before Rafe noticed you were gone.

When you slipped out of the bedroom under the guise of needing to pee, your boyfriend had been snorting yet another line of white powder that was painstakingly familiar to you. You figured you had a decent amount of time before he pulled away from his conversation with Kelce and Topper long enough to take note of your absence. A shudder passed through you, and you swiped your tongue between your lips.

It was the middle of December, and even if you were actually dressed for the weather—which you weren’t—it was still too cold to be out and about like this. Your dress had sleeves, but little good they did you when the fabric stopped above your knees. Your pristine white converse did little to keep you warm too. A biting breeze from the ocean hit your cheek like straight ice, and you swallowed.

You welcomed the feeling.

Anything felt better than this aching and suffocating numbness you’d felt for months, now. The sting on your face was almost comforting in some way because the pain meant that you were alive. Beneath the loud buzz in your ears and the hollow feeling in your chest, you were still alive, and that was so relieving. Too many times you’d almost convinced yourself that you’d died and were living out the rest of your days in hell.

When your face felt even colder all of a sudden, you paused.

You were surprised to feel wetness when you reached up, staring at your fingers with something akin to disbelief. There was really only one reason you cried these days…so why were you crying, now? The ache in your shoulder from the other day had long subsided, so that couldn’t be it. You felt your face pinching a tad, brows furrowing as you just…stared at your fingers.

Only the distraction of headlights could pull your gaze away, and you were thankful that you weren’t in the road. You really didn’t think much at all of the approaching van, hardly sparing it another glance as you continued to walk down the street, telling yourself just five more minutes. Five more minutes, that was all you needed. Just…

Five more minutes.

To yourself.

Without Rafe.

You stopped again because you were once again pulled from your thoughts, but this time it was by the sound of a voice. Brows drawn together, you turned around, noting the familiarity of it. It was only when your eyes landed on familiar blonde hair did you finally give the van a double take, telling yourself that you’d seen it around town here and there.

Sarah’s boyfriend owned it.

“Y/N?” she wondered, both concern and disbelief coloring her tone. “What the hell are you doing out here this late?”

She was standing just by her open door, the van parked in the road, and she was rushing towards you before you could answer.

“It’s like forty something degrees outside,” Sarah breathed, reaching for her jacket.

You noticed that even underneath it, she was dressed more appropriately for the weather than you.

“Where’s Rafe?” she asked, handing you the thick coat, eyes still wide.

“He’s just…up the street,” you gestured. “I just…I just needed a minute.”

Your excuse was lame, and you knew it, and Sarah’s frown only deepened as you put on her coat.

“You just needed a minute at twelve o’clock in the morning? Are you crazy?” she chuckled, but you could tell it was a poor attempt to mask her worry. “Where’s the house? We’ll drive you.”

You wanted to protest, but you figured that Rafe would notice your absence soon—he always did—and you should be trying to get back to the party before he did. You couldn’t deal with his ire any day of the week, but there was something about today that was particularly maddening. If Rafe so much as raised his voice at you, you just knew you’d burst into tears.

“It’s really no big deal. There’s plenty of room in the back…if you don’t mind riding with a handful of Pogues, that is,” she teased, pulling you along.

She knew you didn’t care about that, but she liked to poke fun, anyway. However, her use of the plural had you faltering, and she noticed.

“Oh,” you said, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “Are Kiara and Cleo with you?”

“…and Pope and JJ,” she added, curiously eyeing you, now.

You were sure that your apprehension was all over your face, and you tried to weigh your options. There was no way Sarah was just going to let you walk back by yourself, it would be a losing battle that’d more than likely result in Rafe noticing you were gone by the time you finally got back. On the other hand, though, it would be just your luck to hop in after Rafe already noticed your absence.

Pope and JJ were names you weren’t all that familiar with a year ago, but you definitely were, now.

Even if they were Kooks, Rafe would lose his mind if he knew you were riding around with other guys. The guys in question being two people you regularly heard him complain about would only add fuel to the fire. One of them being JJ—a polite blond who’d smiled at you in The Wreck once—would send Rafe, and your physical wellbeing, spiraling.

The memory of that day had you blinking back tears, and you were somehow grateful when headlights blinded both you and Sarah.

Even if Rafe’s truck didn’t have a distinct sound, those obnoxious headlights were recognizable anywhere. As disappointed as you were that your alone time was officially over, you were relieved that you wouldn’t have to explain yourself to Sarah for the tears that were no doubt about to spill over. You’d seen the slight panic and shock on her face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Those were the words that greeted you as soon as Rafe parked and hopped out of his truck.

“You said you were going to the bathroom and next thing I know, everybody I ask is saying they haven’t seen you for a while. Are you fucking-?”

“Rafe!”

Sarah’s tone was harsh, her tone incredulous, and she looked at her brother like he’d lost his mind. The eldest Cameron only just seemed to notice her presence—and that of the van—and you watched the way he snapped his mouth shut. By now, Sarah’s boyfriend had turned the van off, and you hadn’t noticed the door opening, revealing the rest of her friends inside.

They were anxiously watching the exchange.

“Sarah, it’s fine-.”

“It is not fine,” she argued, looking between you two. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Her gaze was resting on her brother, now as he neared you.

“He’s just worried,” you defended him, attempting to placate her. “He’s right. It was stupid of me to be out here this late at night with no cellphone, no jacket…”

You trailed off with a shrug, leaning in to Rafe as he grabbed your hand and pulled you closer. Sarah’s expression didn’t change, and she fixed Rafe with a hard look to which he didn’t even acknowledge.

“I don’t care. There are nicer ways to get his point across to his own girlfriend,” she harshly whispered to which Rafe merely rolled his eyes.

He said nothing else to her, only choosing to pull you along instead. However, with another glance at you, he paused with a deep frown. You noticed that his gaze was on Sarah’s jacket, and so you were unsurprised when he reached for it. You tried to ignore the feeling of being watched.

“Take this off,” he told you, just loud enough for you to hear.

When you did, he roughly tossed it back at Sarah who struggled to not let it hit her face. He ignored her offended ‘hey!’, reaching for his own jacket instead and putting it on you. When your arms were through it, he pulled you towards his truck. You noticed how quiet he was the whole way, and you eyed him, knowing that a quiet Rafe was never a good thing.

As he helped you into the passenger seat, you could see that Sarah hadn’t moved, watching you two with her arms folded over her chest. By now, her boyfriend—whose name had finally come to you—had joined her, saying something to her that you couldn’t hear. Whatever it was didn’t exactly lighten her mood, and she only shook her head in response.

A somewhat familiar blond had joined both of them, now, saying something and lightly waving his arms about in a way that finally got them to move. John B. helped Sarah back into the van, but even as he made his way to the driver’s side, you noticed the blond still hadn’t gotten back inside. Just then, his blue eyes met yours through the windshield, and you didn’t hold his gaze for long.

Rafe finally joined you, and you lowered your eyes, resting them on your lap instead.

The last time you’d been face to face with JJ, it resulted in the one and only time you ever called the police on Rafe. That day felt like a lifetime ago, and it was something you desperately didn’t want to revisit. Rafe was jealous, always had been, and because that wasn’t changing anytime soon, your only option was to adjust and keep him happy.

“Anything could’ve happened to you,” Rafe finally said as he started the vehicle.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned back in the seat.

“I didn’t think I’d be gone that long. I just wanted some air for a bit,” you told him, looking at him, now as he started to drive.

He wouldn’t look at you, and that made your heart sink for so many reasons. One of his hands came up to rest at his lips, and even though his eyes were on the road…it still felt like he was looking dead at you.

“You lied to me,” he said after a while.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you sat up.

“No, I-I didn’t. I did go to the bathroom, but afterwards I just wanted some air. It was so loud, and everyone was smoking, and it was just too many people…”

Your words died in your throat when Rafe raised a hand, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek. When he didn’t say anything else, you settled for looking out the window. Despite being wrapped up in Rafe’s jacket, you still felt a chill go through you, and you rubbed your arms through the fabric. The silence in the truck was so suffocating and tense, and when you glanced at your boyfriend again, his gaze was still fixated on the road.

With anyone else…that would be normal, the right thing to do.

With Rafe—who was known to keep one eye on the road and one eye on you—it meant he didn’t want to look at you. You were internally cursing yourself…because you knew better. Leaving the party without Rafe, no matter the reason, was a bad idea, and you knew that…but you did it anyway. Everything had felt so suffocating, and you weren’t lying to him when you said you just wanted some air.

When you realized that Rafe was going to your house instead of his…

Your stomach flipped.

You looked at him again, this time with tearful eyes, but like before…he wouldn’t look at you. Furiously blinking, you tightened his jacket around you, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. The world outside of the window started to slow as he neared the driveway, and you took a deep breath when he parked on the other side of your father’s car. When he shut the engine off, you both sat there for a few moments, Rafe only moving when you started to reach for him.

Swallowing down anything you wanted to say to make this better, you merely took his outstretched hand when he opened your door. His hold was firm as he walked you to the door, and you felt his heated gaze on you as you reached for your key. There was no doubt that your parents were asleep—the plan was to sleep over at Rafe’s, after all—and you were quick to put in the alarm code before it could wake them up.

When Rafe shut and locked the door, you looked at him.

“Are you staying over?” you quietly asked him, and Rafe didn’t break eye contact as he leaned against the door.

He merely gazed at you for what felt like a long time, slowly crossing his arms over his chest. His dark blond hair curtained along his forehead, and his blue eyes felt so intense in the low lighting. He took his time in dragging his gaze over you from head to toe, one brow raising when his eyes met yours again.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he wondered, tone even and dripping with sarcasm.

Swallowing down a sigh, you put the alarm back on, and it took no time for Rafe to reach for you, his hand resting on the back of your neck as he walked you upstairs. Both of your steps were quiet, neither one of you wanting to wake your parents, but Rafe didn’t want to wake them for a whole other reason.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he hissed as soon as your bedroom door was shut. “Huh?”

You stumbled when he shoved you away from him, and you fixed him with a look, taking off his jacket.

“I didn’t mean to be gone that long,” you quietly argued, and Rafe scoffed.

“That’s not the point, Y/N. You left the party alone in the middle of the night…no jacket, no phone, and with no one knowing where you went.”

Rafe spat the words at you, making you feel stupid—their intended effect you were sure—and you sat down on the edge of your bed. It was one of the rare moments where Rafe’s ire came from genuine worry…even if it was mixed with just a tad possessiveness. That was why his next words didn’t shock you.

You knew it was coming.

“…and what? Were you just…going to hop in John B.’s van before I got there?”

Rafe’s hands were spread out as he looked at you, waiting for the answer you both knew he wouldn’t like.

“Sarah offered a ride,” you told him.

“Sarah wasn’t alone.”

You clenched your jaw, looking away with a small sigh.

“So, what? You would’ve rather I just walk back to the party in the cold and by myself?”

His arms were folded over his chest as he looked down his nose at you, eyes hard.

“You left the party in that condition, didn’t you? That wasn’t too much of a concern then…”

This argument was going nowhere, and you knew you’d lose, so you simply held your tongue and fixed Rafe with a nod.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

You knew that was what Rafe wanted to hear, anyway—an apology. An apology for daring to go anywhere without him, for almost getting into a car with men who weren’t him, for running the risk of anyone knowing that your relationship with Rafe was less than perfect. When his shoulders sagged at hearing those words, you felt a little relieved.

“That was stupid,” he eventually said, nearing you. “…and I didn’t know where you were or what might have happened to you.”

His hand came up to brush against your cheek, and you reached up, resting your own over his. For just a split second, you saw the fear in his blue gaze, and it never not fascinated you. Rafe could be so horrible to you, sometimes…beyond horrible, but then in the next second, he was that vulnerable kid who just wanted to be chosen—favored. For whatever reason, he sought that in you, and the thought of losing you drove him mad. It always gave you whiplash.

…because you’d lost count of how many times he’d threatened to kill you if you ever left him.

He leaned down to press his lips against yours, and when you kissed him back, he rubbed his hands up and down your arms.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” he chuckled, pulling you to your feet and towards your bathroom.

As you turned on the shower, Rafe went to get clothes for the both of you. It only took a few seconds for the water to get hot, and when you pulled your hand from under the spray of water, you were startled by Rafe’s presence just behind you.

When the back of your head hit the wall, the sound of the shower drowned it out, and your eyes were wide as Rafe harshly pressed his fingers into your jaw. There was nothing unreadable about his expression. All of his anger and annoyance was plain as day on his face, blue eyes glinting in a way that was scarily familiar. When you reached up to grab his wrist, he only tightened his grip on your face.

“I would rather see you run down in the street like a dog than riding around with any of those Pogues,” he calmly told you, and you released a shaky breath. “Do you understand?”

He loosened his hold enough just to allow you to nod, and he ran his eyes over your face, seemingly satisfied with what he saw there before letting you go. You stared at his back as he turned around, furiously blinking away any tears that threatened to spill over. The chills that overtook your body were gone just as fast as they came, and you took a deep calming breath. You reached up to touch your jaw as he checked the water for himself, shakily starting to undress as Rafe did the same.

You stared at your window with the soft sound of Rafe’s breathing in your ear. His arm was haphazardly thrown over your waist, tethering you to him even in sleep. When you glanced at your clock, you noted that it was almost five in the morning, meaning you’d been up out of your sleep for almost an hour and a half. Once awake, you hadn’t been able to keep your eyes closed, and so you just laid there deep in thought.

Your jaw still ached a bit from Rafe’s brief but harsh hold, and you reached up to touch it.

Every fiber of your being had screamed at you to just stay at the party, telling yourself it was a recipe for disaster, but you’d gone against your instincts. Gone against what you’d been conditioned to do. Truthfully, the night could have ended so much worse, and you wanted to scream at how lucky you felt that you got off lightly. How lucky you felt that you’d only gotten some harsh words and a tight pinch to the jaw.

How lucky you felt that you wouldn’t have to put on any extra makeup for a week.

You could feel your eyes stinging, something that only happened in those moments where you let your guard down. When Rafe asked you out all those months ago—two years to be exact—you could never have imagined that this was where the two of you would end up. The beginning of your nightmare, your nineteenth birthday, was always on your mind, and you never not blamed yourself.

Rafe hit you…and you stayed.

…and now you were paying for it with your life.

You wiped your face, throat tight as you slowly sat up. Rafe’s arm slipped as you stood, and you looked over your shoulder at him, relieved to see that he was still asleep. You desperately clung to those rare moments of solitude, taking advantage of every second to just gather your thoughts and mentally prepare yourself for another day of lies.

Accepting that you wouldn’t be going back to sleep, you made your way downstairs.

Every time you smiled, you were lying. Every thread of your fingers through Rafe’s was a lie. Anytime your parents praised Rafe and gushed about him, you agreed, and that too was a lie. Rafe hadn’t been a good boyfriend in over a year, and you sometimes found yourself wondering if he ever was. After all, hadn’t it been four months into your relationship when he first started pressuring you for sex? It seemed like such a small thing then, something to overlook, and you wondered if anyone in the world was as desperate for a time machine as much as you.

Recalling what time your father usually got started with his day, you set about putting some coffee on. As much as you wanted to get started on breakfast to distract yourself, you knew how much your mother enjoyed that, and so you decided to leave that for her. Rafe had this strange way of sensing your absence in his sleep, so you weren’t surprised to find him awake when you went back upstairs.

“Morning, baby,” he mumbled, cheek pressed to the pillow and hooded gaze focused on you.

You were gentle in closing the door, not wanting to wake your parents before their normal time…but also because Rafe usually had one thing on his mind when he first woke up.

“Good morning,” you softly replied. “I was just making my father some coffee.”

Rafe’s eyes were on you as you rejoined him, hair going every which way as he shifted to watch you get comfortable under the cover. When you looked at him, he was smiling at you, soft lips turned upwards just a tad in the low lighting as the sun just started to rise. You couldn’t pinpoint the look on his face, and you were just starting to get a little worried when he chuckled.

“Have I told you…how great you’re going to be with our kids some day?”

You let out a light laugh too, looking away and feeling your gut twist a tad.

“You do say it more often than I would like,” you admitted, and Rafe scoffed, leaning in some.

“What? You don’t want to have my babies? A bunch of spoiled brats running around and hanging off of your legs?” he wondered, pulling at the sleeve of your shirt.

You tried not to think about it for too long.

“No, I… I’m just saying we’re twenty,” you emphasized. “Isn’t that something we’re supposed to be thinking about a good six…seven years from now?”

When you looked at Rafe again, his smile had dimmed a bit. It was subtle, but the difference was anything but to you. You knew your boyfriend like the back of your hand, and you swallowed when he propped his head up on his hand. He stared at you for a good amount of time, lightly chewing on his bottom lip.

“Yeah, but…” he held your gaze. “How else can I guarantee you’ll never leave me?”

His tone was light, but there was a hint of something in there that told you he was entirely serious. Even when he suddenly laughed, shaking his head at you and taking your hand, you weren’t fooled. The glint in his blue eyes prevented you from being fooled.

“You know I’m just fucking with you,” he said. “I just like the thought.”

He suddenly exhaled, face falling a bit as he played with your fingers. His smile slowly dropped entirely, eyes dimming just a tad as he rested them on your joined fingers. So much of your time with Rafe was spent watching him, waiting for him to say or do something just so you could gauge how you needed to react. Gauge the choice that would bring the least damage. You watched him swipe his tongue between his lips, brows pulling together just a tad.

“About last night…”

You straightened, pressing your back to your headboard with a shake of your head.

“Don’t worry about it-.”

“No, last night…shouldn’t have happened,” he whispered to you, lightly tapping your hand. “I told both you and my dad that I was going to work on that.”

He did.

He lied.

Or at least…that was how it seemed. It wasn’t like you knew what was going on in Rafe’s head better than him, so for all you knew, Rafe was actually trying. That was the deal, after all. Ward saves Rafe from going to jail and Rafe works on his temper. With that being said though, you hadn’t known how to tell Ward that you didn’t think the problem was Rafe’s temper.

Rafe Cameron was a very calculating individual.

God knows he was a lot of things but dumb simply wasn’t one of them. Rafe was the kind of person who just always seemed to be aware of his actions—too aware. Truth be told, you didn’t even think he had a temper. He just preferred to react to certain things a certain way because every time he hit you…grabbed you…even when he was yelling at you, there was a certain calmness to his visage that clued you in on the truth.

The problem was never that Rafe couldn’t control himself…because he could control himself just fine.

Rafe simply liked scaring you.

“You don’t understand how terrified I was when I couldn’t find you,” he continued, and you nodded.

“It was stupid, I know,” you agreed, briefly looking at your lap.

“Anything could’ve happened to you,” he roughly exhaled, lying flat on his back. “…and then I saw you about to hop into John B.’s van.”

Rafe shook his head in disgust, gaze focused on your ceiling.

“I couldn’t think straight,” he murmured. “All I saw was…red.”

You didn’t know how to respond, mind lingering on what he said last night. Rafe’s thoughts seemed to stray there too, and he suddenly let out a bitter chuckle.

“You don’t know what they’re like…”

That was true.

Your parents had never let you associate with anyone or anything from The Cut, and that had stuck with you even when you became an adult. It wasn’t like you believed the same things Rafe and his friends did, it was purely about being respectful of your parents’ wishes. Besides, you never had any reason or opportunity to mingle with anyone from that side of the island—every party you ever went to was in someone’s fancy house.

…but then Sarah started dating John B. Routledge…and she seemed happy with him…and happy with his friends.

…and so you figured they couldn’t be as bad as Rafe claimed.

“All they do is go around fucking up their own lives…and then turning around and blaming us because they refuse to…I don’t know, get their shit together,” Rafe sneered, sitting up. “They’re a bunch of low-lives, and if I actually gave a crap about Sarah and what she does, she wouldn’t be anywhere near any of them either.”

You watched Rafe pull on one of his many shirts he kept in your room, one hand running through his hair.

“So, I promise I’m not being my usual asshole self when I say,” he paused, looking at you. “You really would be better off dead than hanging around any of them.”

You pressed your lips together, nodding when Rafe told you he was going to grab something to drink. When he asked you if you wanted anything, you simply shook your head, turning to gaze out the window the second he was gone.

Rafe’s hand was tight on yours as he walked you down the beach, keeping you as close as humanly possible.

You knew parties were held on the beach all the time, especially the annual big bonfire, but you just never had it in you to go. However, when Rafe mentioned he’d be meeting Topper and Kelce there later, you didn’t quite know what came over you to ask about tagging along.

It had thrown Rafe.

“Baby…that’s not really your thing,” he’d lightly laughed, resting his hands on your arms.

You’d thought about it, humming.

“Mm, no, but… It’s your thing, and I’ve never been, and it’s not like I’d ever go by myself, so why not go with you?”

You’d given him a pleading smile, something you’d learned to perfect with Rafe if you wanted any sliver of happiness in this relationship. It had taken him much too long to consider, finally relenting and going to his dresser to find you something to wear. As he’d helped you get dressed, he made his concerns clear.

“You stay with me the whole night, alright…?” he’d said, tying your shoelaces and glancing up at you. “There are a lot of…questionable people at these parties. You’re not just among friends.”

Once you arrived on the scene, it hadn’t taken you long to figure out what Rafe meant.

It wasn’t the kind of party that only consisted of rich kids you went to high school with and who you’d see at the country club. You were sure you’d never been to a party where you didn’t recognize ninety percent of everyone you passed your eyes over. It was one thing to know you were kind of sheltered.

Something else entirely to bear witness to it.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing Y/N along,” Topper greeted, nodding at you.

You only smiled back in response, heart sinking a bit when Kelce barely acknowledged you. You supposed you couldn’t blame him for his behavior. Even if no one knew the extent of Rafe’s wrath when it came to you, everyone still knew how he could get, and you tried not to dwell on the fact that Kelce’s aloofness had little to do with respect and more to do with how he viewed you in relation to Rafe.

You belonged to him.

…and so you couldn’t be treated like your own person.

You remained empty-handed while Topper got drinks for the rest of them, forced to occupy yourself some other way. You opted for drinking it all in, eyes lingering on couples too wrapped up in each other or some girl who wanted to attempt a keg stand. You didn’t feel as suffocated as you normally did at parties, cramped into one building with far too many people and no hint of fresh air. Out here on the beach, it was actually enjoyable.

The ocean breeze wasn’t even as cold as you’d expect, but instead a welcoming contrast to the heat from the fire.

For a moment, you even thought Rafe might bring you along again.

At least…until he showed up.

Your boyfriend had only half turned his body from you for less than a moment when you heard your name being called by an unfamiliar voice.

“I got it right,” he praised himself when you turned to face him, a beer in his hand as he held it out to you. “Can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?”

For his own sake—and yours—you wanted to pretend that he wasn’t talking to you, but not only had he said your name as clear as day, he was also looking straight at you. That was something you weren’t used to—guys besides your father or Rafe or even his father holding eye contact with you for long. You couldn’t tell if he was brave or stupid. Your heart was in your throat when he stepped closer, and you were quick to shake your head.

“No, thanks,” your answer was hurried, and the blond that you were unfortunately becoming more familiar with only smiled in return.

“Come on,” he chuckled, extending his arm and the drink. “What, is it not fancy enough for you?”

You could tell that he was a little drunk, so maybe that was where his courage came from, but the mischievous grin on his pink lips also told you he knew he was being a little shit, right now. If it wasn’t for the way your stomach violently twisted into knots, you might’ve laughed too as you attempted to turn him down again.

“Hey, you know what, you know what? I’ll take it.”

Your boyfriend’s voice descended over the conversation like a sobering fog, and you tensed, taking a step back until your shoulder was grazing his chest again. You shrank in on yourself, mood declining even further at the prospect of what was to come. The blond before you noticed.

“Thank you, man, I appreciate it,” Rafe’s tone was mocking as he reached past you for the cup.

Your eyes widened a tad when it was pulled out of his reach.

“That’s nice of you to suggest that, Rafe, but I didn’t ask you.”

JJ—the drunk blond who was hellbent on ensuring you never attended another beach party ever again—kept his gaze on Rafe, that taunting smile twitching a bit.

“If you said pretty please, maybe, but you didn’t-.”

“Oh, okay, pretty please,” Rafe evenly repeated like the words were foreign to him. “Pretty please?”

“Yeah, so, Y/N…” JJ’s gaze was on you again, handing you the drink. “You can have it.”

You were in the middle of shaking your head again, opening your mouth to tell him you were fine when Rafe rudely beat you to it, declaring for you that you didn’t want it all the while knocking the drink in the other blonde’s face. Your lips parted when he stumbled back just a little, but you weren’t surprised when he put his hands on Rafe, shoving his chest just as you hurried to step out of the way. Rafe—always itching for a fight—seemed oddly satisfied to have just soaked JJ in beer, chuckling to himself.

“Dirty Pogues,” he laughed with a shake of his head, and you didn’t have time to linger on your disappointment with him before Sarah’s friend was punching him square in the face.

It was like you blinked, and they were fighting, and when you blinked again, John B. and Topper had joined them. Having been on the other side of Rafe’s fist before, you didn’t envy the younger blond when your boyfriend hit him hard enough to have him stumbling back. Even though you had long accepted Rafe’s penchant for violence, it didn’t mean you relished standing around and watching it.

“Rafe!”

It seemed that you were one of the few who actually wanted this fight to stop, so many other people seemingly enjoying this. You weren’t for so many reasons, but most of all because if Rafe walked away from this with a broken nose or black eye, you were getting some of the blame. Your eyes briefly met Sarah’s when she ran over, your gaze pleading.

“John B., chill,” she screamed at her boyfriend, pulling on his shirt. “Guys, guys-!”

Sarah was joined by a familiar face—you were positive it was Kiara—and you watched her help separate John B. and Topper while Pope was trying to get Rafe off of JJ. You thought to yourself that he managed to pull that off much easier than you imagined, but one glance down told you why that was. As Rafe stood, your stomach flipped at the sight before you.

JJ’s eyes were squeezed tight as he held a hand to his face, but that did little to stop the blood from seeping between his fingers. You were no doctor, but if you had to, you’d guess that he had a broken nose. The only reason Rafe was even able to be pulled off of him was solely because your boyfriend was satisfied with the damage he’d done.

Pope was helping him sit up, and despite the blood that dirtied his face, JJ still laughed at something his friend said. In the back of your mind, you could register your name being called, but you were still too focused on trying to make sure Sarah’s friend wasn’t seriously hurt. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, and when he glanced up, already bruising eyes resting on yours, your guilt grew. You were forced to focus on more important matters though when a rough grip seized your wrist.

“Didn’t you hear me calling you?” Rafe hissed, his gaze questioning when you finally looked at him. “We need to go. Kelce called the cops to break up this sad excuse for a party.”

You weren’t given the chance to respond to that, held at his side as Rafe stomped away from the beach and towards his truck. Against your better judgment, you glanced over your shoulder, thankful that Rafe was deep in a conversation with Topper and Kelce. You weren’t surprised to meet an eerily familiar shade of blue as your eyes met his, JJ half distracted by a conversation of his own as Sarah and her friends stood around him.

When he reached up to swipe his thumb along his bottom lip, wiping away blood in the process, he smiled at you, and like before, you couldn’t decide if he was brave…

…or stupid.

[harunovella]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ safety net; t.f.

synopsis: when toji decided to be a good man and rescue two puppies for his son... content: canon divergence (I want a happy story for the fushiguro's!), fem!reader, reader is mamaguro, in this world your last name is fushiguro and toji took it bc f*ck the zenin, megumi is ur son (he's just a baby!), domestic bliss, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: seeing how successful my gojo anthology series is going (only two parts but going strong), I wanted to do one for toji bc I've always wanted to write his story with mamaguro (aka you!) and do a bunch of one shots that can be read as stand alones or together! pls lmk if you want more and if u wanna be tagged in the future <3 p.s. the divine dogs are actual dogs that inspired megumi's later manifestation of his shikigami in this au

It was one of those late nights for Toji. A summer evening with a heavy downpour to blur his path before him. The windshields were moving as fast as they could, swiftly clearing his vision with every wipe across the glass. He was quite used to this, running around town in the wee hours of the night, nothing new to him. It just annoyed him how difficult it could be driving in the rain when his windows fogged up and the headlights could only do so much. 

He wasn't too far from home, running a quick errand before returning to his abode, wanting nothing more than the warmth of his bed. 

A bed... A home...

Toji couldn't help but sigh and lean his head back against the car's headrest. Had this all been a dream? Was it real? Him, Zenin Toji, living a normal life? It had been quite some time now where he left it all behind to be domesticated—as if he were a wild animal. He didn't mind, though, a part of him was begging for a simple kind of life. 

Sat at a red light as his pointer finger tapped away against the leather steering wheel, his eyes wandered the environment around him—well, as much as he could see during an evening shower. From building to building, the empty sidewalks and dim storefronts, his eyes suddenly bounced back to a bus stop. Squinting, he leaned in before turning on his blinkers. 

This was very unlike him, his curiosity getting the best of him... Maybe it was because he was a changed man. Maybe it was because he had someone to go home to. Someone who made his deflated heart triple in size; someond who made him care about little things that he never did before.

Pulling over and parking his car next to the bus stop, Toji pulled up his hoodie and reached for the small umbrella that sat on the floor of the passenger seat. Rushing out and popping open the coverage, he stood before a small, cardboard box. 

It was falling apart, the rain tearing at the flimsy material as the little towel beneath was completely drenched. Hearing the faint whimpers and cries of the tiny creatures that stared up at him, Toji took in a sharp breath and shook his head. He was a good man now. Better than he ever was before. He had a heart. He had a home. He had someone who loved him. These little bodies did not. 

Lifting the box, he quickly maneuvered it underneath the umbrella before carefully placing it in the backseat of his car. "I hope she won't mind..." he said before making his way to the front, closing the umbrella and shutting the door after, resuming his route. 

The drive home was quicker this time around, zooming to gather the bags and box he had within the car, shutting the doors and locking them behind him before he made his way towards the front door. Taking the steps and fumbling with his keys, he unlocked the door and slipped inside before kicking off his shoes and making his way towards the living room. 

Settling the box down before moving towards the kitchen with the bag, he washed his hands and emptied the contents within it. Pulling out the small device, Toji made his way upstairs, ruffling his dark hair as he pressed a few buttons on the gadget. "Babe, this one should be fine," he spoke as he approached one of the two bedrooms. 

"Oh, good," the voice responded as he entered the room. You were sitting on your son's rocking chair, holding him close to your chest as you caressed his little back. He was about six months old and the constant change in weather was getting to him, causing a slight cold to disrupt his immunity. It pained both of you to see your boy anything but happy and healthy... but, he was such a little trooper. Both of you weren't sure where he got his calmness from, seeing as you nor Toji were such a way, but you thanked the heavens for blessing you with a child like him. 

"How's Megs doin'?" Toji asked as he handed you the new thermometer, squatting and gently caressing his son's head. His hand practically engulfed it, always entertaining him how tiny his boy was. It brought a small smile to his face. "Doesn't seem so fussy."

"A bit better, I got him to fall asleep. You weren't gone for too long, thankfully," you sweetly smiled, settling the small device down before caressing Toji's face. "Raining hard, huh?"

"Yeah," he nodded, only to widen his eyes. 

"What is it?" You furrowed your eyebrows. 

Scratching the back of his head, Toji stood up. "Got a surprise along the way... hope you don't mind."

"What do you mean?" You tilted your head. 

"Let's go downstairs," he nudged his own, waving you to follow him. 

Standing up carefully as to not wake your baby boy, you followed your man down the hall and staircase, towards your living room. You were confused at first, unsure as to what surprise he could've gotten you. But then you heard it. The faint cries and rustling coming from a box. The box in front of you. "Toji..."

"You've changed me, y'know?" He said. "I wouldn't have cared back then, would've left them suffer... but, guess it's because I'm a father now and I have you... I couldn't let them die out there..." rubbing the back of his neck as he stood by the box, you curiously peeked over before gasping. "Thought it would be nice to keep 'em... give Megs something to grow with."

"Toji... there's two," you nearly whispered, eyeing the puppies. One in pure white and one in all black, both equally precious. Tiny, scared, cold... you couldn't deny them either, even if you were currently raising your own baby. 

"Yeah..." Toji sighed. "I was thinkin' about giving them a quick bath now and take them to the vet early tomorrow. Don't have much to feed them but we can make it work, right?" He said, keeping his eyes on them, a bit afraid of your reaction. 

As upset as you should've been, seeing as it was two more mouths to feed, instead, you felt... elated? You weren't sure why, maybe it was because you were seeing more and more sides of Toji you didn't think would exist. Or maybe you loved the idea of giving your son two furry best friends to grow with. It could've also been that you were just happy that your son was okay and getting through his cold that you couldn't be as bothered. 

It also didn't help that you may or may not have mentioned a few times (while taking your strolls during your pregnancy) that your little blessing should have some furry friends around. You just didn't think it would happen... this way. 

"So?" Toji asked, looking at you with timid eyes. "Can we keep 'em?"

"Toji," you chuckled. "I'm not going to abandon these poor babies. You brought them here, you're gonna have to do a lot of raising. You're now a father of three," you teased as he nodded. 

"I'm well aware."

"I'm surprised you're okay with this, let alone, brought them," you pointed out. 

Shrugging, he looked back down. "Like I said, it's cause you changed me and I'm a father now. As scary as that is... I dunno... guess I want that normal life and normal people have dogs, right?" Seeing you nod with a small smile, Toji couldn't help but reflect your facial expression. "I wanna give him everything I've never had," he nudged his head in Megumi's direction. 

"Such a good dad," you softly spoke, caressing your sons back before stepping closer and kissing Toji's arm. "Then I guess we have two puppies now. What should we name them?"

Eyeing the two, Toji hummed. "Kuro and Shiro."

[angelsfat3]

ꮩ. [𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌...]

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: @foschiamara

⢀⠀⠀.   ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆  ⭒ ✿ ⭒ ⋆･. ˳ . ⋆ ⠀⢀⠀⠀.   ⋆ ･˳⠀.   ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆  ⭒ ∗

C/w: bottom Mreader, curses, mentions of: spanking, hickeys and bites + EVERYTHING is consensual. ㅤ－ㅤTw: none. (Correct me if I'm wrong.)

Genre: smut drabble, h/canons.

A/N: I no longer have the @ of the person who requested it, but after half a month, here it is. (I did it this way because I didn't have much imagination. 💔)

𝗹𝗲𝗲 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀 ⓘ𝒶𝓈 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗂𝖺. ！ 💌

⒈ “You don't know how bad I want to break you, put your head on the mirror and leave your ass red from so many spanks...”

⒉ “My cock would look so good inside you, nothing better than seeing your ass swallow my entire dick.”

When you received the notes, your head was completely blank, your eyes traveled from the small sheet of paper to your boyfriend's face, noticing how he didn't take his eyes off of you. His eyes traveled through every corner of your body, undressing you in his imagination.

He was a boy of word and he wouldn't miss the opportunity to fuck you hard when the cameraman gave them a half hour break (this was for changing outfit and makeup). After all, you were the one who helped him get dressed and also the one who did his makeup.

𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 ⓘ𝒶𝓈 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆. ！ 📷

Today was the 21st ecological film festival in Seoul and your boyfriend had invited you, nothing nicer than an outdoor date. When you two arrived, he alone guided you to the highest part of the place, with the excuse that both of you would have a better view.

At first everything was very calm, you two watching a comedy movie, laughter here and laughter there. Now you were spread wide open, without pants, with your eyes closed and your lips forming a single line, preventing any moan from coming out.

“Hey, my love... you're missing the best part of the movie.”

One of his hands was busy, or rather, his fingers were busy moving inside you, smoothly caressing your prostate. With the other he caressed your glans with the help of his thumb, exerting firmness with his palm.

“If you want this to end, watch the fucking movie, love.”

𝙨𝙞𝙢 𝗃𝖺𝖾𝗒𝗎𝗇 ⓘ𝒶𝓈 𝖽𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺. ！ 🎭

"You're crying? Aww, poor thing. Keep doing it."

His hands were buried on your waist as he continued to hit every sweet spot inside you with his veiny cock, his pace increasing the more you cried and begged him to give you a break.

Although Jake used to (almost) always be a very energetic, sweet and tender boy, he was also someone who, just by seeing you cry because of the way he played with your body, could feel his cock getting even harder, causing bearable pain throughout his phallus.

He loved fucking you in the missionary position, as it allowed him to get close to your face, lick your tears and leave marks everywhere possible, inflicting pain (on purpose) every time he sucked on your skin.

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 ⓘ𝒶𝓈 𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗑𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗂𝖺. ！ 🩸

All your early mornings always started the same way, a couple of wet kisses that threatened your neck, with tickles that little by little lifted you up. You avoided at all costs that he could continue advancing, so you tried to move slightly, but everything was in vain. His hands always ended up surrounding you.

“Come on... a little fun won't hurt, plus I'm kind of stressed. Don’t you want to help me, baby?”

A sneaky smile always formed on his face when he saw how your chest swelled quickly every time he moved his hand to your thighs and how quickly he placed himself on top of you, continuing with the initial plan, the kisses that eventually led to bites.

Over time, the entire room was drowned out by your moans, which were generated by the bites that were mostly always on your shoulders, belly and neck. Your vampi-boy's fangs were the cause of the pain, but it was compensated by the blowjob he was giving you.

메모 ! 📌ㅤ⸻ㅤ I FINALLY HAD INSPIRATION (it took me half a month). I really hope you liked this, although English is not my native language, I do my best.

ㅤㅤ아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to ㅤㅤㅤ leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

[poppadom0912]

Request

Matt Casey and Wife Reader

There’s a big crash and 51 gets called out to it and they find Matt’s wife’s car in the crash all smashed up and Matt’s pregnant wife unconscious and hurt inside with their toddler son Jack who is crying. So Matt and the 51 guys do their best to save the family of their own Captain.

Warnings: Car crash, canon-typical injuries, death.

A/N: Once again, one month later. Life is not vibing right now but it's okay. I hope anyone who celebrated Eid had a wonderful time! very belated Eid Mubarak.

I hope this suffices and meets your expectations. I know this was sent ages ago and I apologise for the very long wait, I've just had zero inspiration and drive to write. This month has been very stressful with exams but please do enjoy!!

Matt was angsty and restless ever since his 24-hour shift started. There was no reason as to why he was but no matter what he did, he couldn't get rid of the feeling. He tried sleeping it off, eating lunch and even calling you when they weren't busy, but he still felt unnerved.

Just as he was about to text you, wanting to quickly check in again, something he'd been doing much more regularly now that you were pregnant along with looking after your toddler, the bells rang.

Internally groaning, Matt tried ignoring whatever his body was trying to scream at him and rushed towards the trucks, everyone quickly getting their uniform on before jumping into their 'allocated' seats.

It didn't take too long to arrive at the scene, the mess being much larger than what they anticipated. But maybe this was good, the more work he had to do, the less time he had to himself and to contemplate on whatever was bothering him today. The scene was one large mess, cars mangled together for what seemed like miles.

Maybe this was the exact distraction he needed.

Boden began shouting orders, Kelly and him following as they too started to delegate roles between their own respective crews. With equipment in hand, everyone scattered to hopefully start minimising this massive mess. From the looks of it, several casualties were to be expected with many more injured.

Squeezing between cars, Matt looked through broken windows looking for anyone who was stuck or left behind, also keeping an ear out for any shouts of help. Only, he didn't hear anyone shouting for help, but he heard crying.

It wasn't piercing like a newborn; he knew that sound well, but it sounded like a child and that made his heart skip a beat. Ever since Jack was born, calls involving kids become infinitely worse to handle.

Running towards the crying, Matt held his breath in an attempt to hear better, but his feet suddenly came to a stop before his brain could even register what was happening.

That was your car that along with many others, was laying on its side.

Matt vividly remembered you telling him your plans for the day this morning while he got ready for work and you fed Jack. You were going to run to the office to pick up some bits before taking Jack out to the trampoline park with some of his friends and other mums.

Apparently, you never made it to the park.

The crying continued and everything came crashing down on him. It wasn't just any crying, he recognised it easily now that he was closer.

Rushing forward, Matt ignored the broken glass and dropped to his knees as he looked for his family.

He saw you first. Your eyes shut, blood trailing down your forehead, head slumped to the side and seatbelt digging into your body that sat unmoving.

He then looked in the back where the crying hadn't stopped, Jack's eyes screwed shut as he wailed, the occasional 'mama' audible between cries.

"Jack. Daddy's here Jack." Matt forced out, his throat constricting at the sight of his hurt family. First things first, he had to get Jack settled and out the car before he could get you out. "Jack, it's me."

His crying calmed down, eyes peeling open as his crying slowly eased when he found his father.

"Are you okay Jack? You hurt anywhere baby?" Matt asked, easily taking apart the door and getting in besides the car seat.

"Daddy." Finally having one of his parents with and responding to him, Jack started to cry again, making grabby hands towards Matt as his words went through one ear and out the other.

"It's okay. I've got you now." Matt cooed, unbuckling from his car seat and before he could do anything, Jack launched himself into his dad's open arms.

A small oof was forced out of Matt from the sudden force of Jack catapulting into him. But he tightly wrapped his arms around his toddler nonetheless, his chest somewhat lighter with his boy safe in his embrace.

"Matt, is that- oh shit." Kelly swore as he rounded the car, eyes going wide as he saw father and son.

"I'm taking him to Sylvie." Matt started, holding out Jack for Kelly to take so he could jump out of the car that was still on its side and creaking with every movement he made. Without another word, Kelly took his godson and waited for Matt to get out before handing him back over.

"I'm waiting on Cruz and Violet." Kelly said, his eyes remaining on the father and son duo, both of their arms wrapped tightly around the other in fear of being separated again. "We've got Y/N, I promise."

Matt didn't even bat an eye when his best friend made a promise, one of which they were never allowed to make as first responders.

With another glance at your unconscious body, Matt held his breath as he stepped away, his heart constricting when Jack realised what was happening, trying his best to not crumble at his toddler's cries for his mama who wasn't responding to him.

*****

Somehow, Jack came out of the crash relatively unharmed besides the few cuts and bruises. He was for sure to be sore for the rest of the week. You however, your physical state was harder taking into account your pregnancy and they could only do so much in an ambulance.

It took them some time, but they had gotten you out safely, laying down still unmoving on a backboard. There were two of you but only one of him and with the way Jack was gripping his uniform jacket, there was no way he could leave, especially when he'd whimper at any movement he made, in hear his father would leave him alone.

Boden had dismissed him from the scene, giving him the permission to ride in the same ambulance as you, Jack not once letting go of him.

The hospital was in its usual disarray but Matt's concern was so high for you and your unborn child that he didn't even bat an eye at all the doctors and nurses running around ragged.

Natalie had seen you immediately, wasting no time in checking your physical state before scanning your stomach.

Matt could've cried when Natalie confirmed there was absolutely no harm caused besides whatever had been inflicted upon you.

After a few more checks and tests, Natalie turned to him with an understanding smile.

"She most likely has a concussion, some bruises that will definitely be sore for few weeks but nothing internal or severe."

Matt sighed in relief, his entire body deflating as he slumped back in the chair, Jack moving with him from his now permanent position in Matt's lap.

"You can go sit with her."

And so he did without any further prodding.

Walking back into the room, Matt looked your unconscious figure over, confirming with his own eyes that everything was indeed fine and you were in fact healthy.

Manoeuvring the sleeping toddler in his lap, Matt sat down and placed your hand in his. His fingers gently caressing the scars and scratches on your hands, knuckles raw and red from the sudden impact.

Closing his eyes, Matt lightly pressed a kiss into Jack's hair, his eyes stuck on you.

His little family were all safe and with him here where he wouldn't let them out of his sight. If his throat got tight and his eyes watery, glistening in the bright hospital lights, no one saw.

No one would blame a man who almost lost all his family before he could even meet its final member.

Matt sniffled, shaking away such unnecessary deprecating thoughts. You were all here now, unharmed for the most of it, and you were back with him. That was all that mattered.

[princessbellecerise]

Forbidden Relationship

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | In which the House of the Dragon characters want what they cannot have—you

warnings | Forbidden romance trope and smut, canon incest, slight breeding kink for Jace

this fic is eighteen plus. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

Jacaerys Velaryon

Jace was already betrothed, promised to your sister—the eldest as was he

As the oldest brother and future King, it was his duty to marry well and Baela was just that. She would make a good Queen, Jacaerys knew that, but she was not who he wanted

It was really you that the Prince desired; her youngest sister. Locked away by your father in fear that his youngest daughter was growing too fast. You were the most like Laena therefore the most precious to Daemon. But he wasn’t the only one

Jace had loved you ever since you were kids. Ever since he first met you, on that dreadful day at your mother’s funeral. He had held your hand while you cried and didn’t let go not once

When the whole incident went down with Aemond, Jace had attacked his uncle because it was you he pushed. He was defending you, as he would continue to do growing up

You had spent your entire childhood with Jace and grown into young adulthood together. You played together, rode your dragons together, and you loved together no matter how much Daemon tried to keep you apart

It wasn’t like your father was doing it to be cruel; he just knew that one day it had to be Baela that married him, not you

After all, she was older than you and wiser. Fit to be Queen while a third daughter was not

It didn’t matter how much you loved Jacaerys or how much he loved you, it just couldn’t be

Or at least, that’s what the people on the outside thought

On the inside, though, you and Jace shared a bond that no one knew about. A love that was pure and kind, like you both were

A love that could never be; forever hidden under bed sheets and secluded corridors

It didn’t matter to your father that Jace had snuck in your room plenty of times to take you. It didn’t matter that the future king had promised to give you heirs every time he laid with you or that he had fulfilled that promise multiple times

Jacaerys was an honorable man, yes, but not when he was desperate. Not when he was in love

There wasn’t a time when Jace hadn’t given you his seed, praying each time that it stuck so that Dameon would have no choice but to wed the two of you

He hoped and he hoped but alas; Daemon Targaryen was not a man easily swayed. Each night Jace tried to impregnate you would be contradicted by Moon Tea in the morning

Your tears soaking his chest each time that you cried, realizing that your father would never let up, and that no matter what you did, the man you loved the most would always be promised to your sister

Lucerys Velaryon

Hadn’t he taken enough?

It felt wrong; wanting something from Aemond when Lucerys had already stolen his eye

It felt wrong wanting you, the One-Eyed Targaryen’s sweet baby sister, when Luke had already taken so much

But alas, when Lucerys traveled back to the Red Keep to solidify his claim to Driftmark, that’s when he met you and has his whole life turned upside

You’re kind, that’s the first thing he noticed. The second was how pretty you grew up to be. But most of all, after all these years, Luke noticed that you seemed to harbor no ill feelings towards him, unlike your mother and brothers

You spent time with him when no one else would, showing him around the castle and explaining all the things he missed, much to the dismay of your mother

The two of you became close in a short amount of time and it’s no surprise that he ends up falling in love with you, and you him. Even though you shouldn’t, seeing as you knew better than anyone the animosity your mother and especially your brother harbored against Luke

Even your drunk of a brother Aegon felt bitter about it, but you…

Perhaps you were just young, dumb, and in love

Or maybe it was rationality that helped you put aside your feelings, hearing the story from Luke’s perspective and realizing he truly did think Aemond was going to kill Jace

Not a full excuse but it was enough to come to an understanding. Luke was a child, and so was Aemond. Yes, it never should have happened but it did and it was the adults in their lives that had failed them

Your mother and grandsire failed you by filling your head with so much hate, so maybe that’s why you fell for Lucerys so hard. Relishing in the stages of young, first love and the thrill of sneaking around

The entire time his family stays at the Keep, you and Luke have to dodge the ever watchful eyes of your brothers and your mother

Lying to her isn’t easy but it’s manageable, especially when Queen Alicent has much more worrisome things to attend to. She hardly frets about her second youngest child, her baby girl. Mainly because you were supposed to be under the watchful eyes of her lap dog, Ser Criston Cole

Over the years though, he’s grown lax in his position. Carelessly falling asleep on his watch, which gives Lucerys the perfect opportunity to sneak into your room

Sometimes, he brings books to read to you and you’ll lay on his chest while he speaks your mother tongue. High Valerian that’s better than yours and Aemond’s combined, the two of you always giggling and kissing under the covers

Other times, you’ll sing to him softly and play with his hair. Listening to his worries about inheriting Driftmark or not being good enough

Each time, you’d kiss his insecurities away and reassure him that’s he more than capable and good enough

When you do, Luke swears each time that he falls more and more in love

It becomes devastating, knowing that he has to leave you and the only comfort he’s ever known. Sure, Rhaenyra listens to his worries but not like you. You’re special to Luke, and though he knows your family will never allow it, he wishes to be betrothed

He doesn’t want to go back to Dragonstone without you, and so he doesn’t

One night, just days before he and his family are set to return, Luke sneaks into your room for the final time. Slipping past Criston Cole, he enters your chambers and sees you crying your eyes out

You don’t want him to leave, and it breaks his heart to see you that way. But maybe, he expresses to you, it doesn’t have to be the end between you two

You both have dragons, Luke tells you

And one day, your family would understand if you were to leave with him, to become his wife. They would have to respect your choices because surely the King would

Viserys would be overjoyed with the union, Luke convinces you. The king would be so happy that your families were finally reunited that he wouldn’t even care that you ran away to be with Luke

One day, everyone would just look back and laugh at the fact that the young princess and prince were so desperate to be together that they fled in the middle of the night and rode their dragons back to his ancestral home

One day, Alicent would cope with the fact that her youngest daughter was stolen away by the dragon prince. That Aemond would weep tears of joy that his baby sister was given to the boy that stole his eye

It would all be fine, is what you think when you do run away with Lucerys Velaryon, but you were young and dumb and in love

The consequences never once occurring to you until it’s too late

Aemond Targaryen

You weeped and prayed to the Gods for your good luck when you found out you had been assigned to serve the Prince Aemond instead of his brother, Aegon

Literal tears were rolling down your face from being so relieved, happy that you would escape from an unpleasant fate like the women before you

After all, the rumors about Aegon were enough make anyone quake, and while you were well aware that Prince Aemond was known for being cruel or indifferent, at least he treated people humanely

When you first started serving him, he never touched you once or did anything inappropriate. He was polite, always saying please and thank you which shocked you

You weren’t expecting the prince to be so…kind. Especially not to you, a lowborn serving girl

It took you by surprise, but it was pleasant. Pleasant enough that after a few months, you could safely say that you…enjoyed the Prince’s company

Sometimes, he’d be reading while you prepared his baths and he’d call you over to ask for your opinion

Or, he’d be in the library and decide he wanted a snack, calling for you specifically but asking you to stay even after you’ve completed your duties

You had to admit, you weren’t expecting to get so close to Aemond. Yes, he was kind to you but that’s about all he felt for you. Or so you thought

It didn’t take long for you to realize that the prince was doing all of that because he enjoyed your company. He liked being around you, liked hearing you speak when you discussed history with him and he liked laughing with you and sharing his sweets even though he wasn’t supposed to

Aemond enjoyed your presence more than a prince of his station should have, and you most certainly enjoyed him more than a servant should have

After all, it was dishonorable and down right illegal for a woman of your position to fool around with someone of such high rank

Prince Aemond was off limits, you knew that from the various warnings the head servant had given you. A strong message to all the servants that many have tried to seduce the princes before and very little have succeeded. If they did they were quickly disposed of and all but doomed themselves to a life worse than death

It wasn’t worth the risk, she had told you, especially not with Aemond. No, a prince like him had never and would never disgrace himself like that. He would never fall for someone like you

But if that were truly the case, then what were you doing in his bedsheets every night?

His cock disappearing in your cunt, Aemond whispering words of praises left and right. His lips were forever attached to yours, it seemed, never wanting to leave. Never wanting to face the realities that came later

He had told you he loved you time and time again. Beginning from the fifth meet-up, or maybe the sixth. You didn’t know, it had been so long, after all

You and Aemond had been together for the better part of a year and it was surprise that no one had ever caught onto you

They all simply thought that you were just devoted to the prince, as a good servant should be. Even his mother, the Queen, had personally praised you for exceeding your duties

No one knew that you had been so excellent because you loved him, and he you

No one knew, and no one could ever know as much as it pained you both to say

You had to hide your love with stolen kisses and secret glances. Behind closed doors, always, for knew Aemond knew the risks, as did you

And you both knew that if you were ever discovered then you’d never see each other again

Aemond cherished every moment he had with you even if was only in the privacy of his chambers. And as much as he hated sneaking around and hiding his relationship with you, he’d much rather love you in the dark than for you to be sent away or worse—executed all because two people just so happened to fall in love

It was worst his nightmare, someone taking you away him. He hated to think about it, dreaded knowing that day could come

He hated knowing that the two of you could never truly be together

For he was him, and you were you

The two of you forever doomed to love one another while being forced to pretend such a thing didn’t exist

[court-jobi]

Hi, is there any Headcanon of a Married relationship between Izuku Midoriya and the reader? Could you write based on the Canon? Although the Reader, besides being a heroine (Izuku the teacher), is a model for clothing brands, cosmetics, etc! like any celebrity.

The reader is female!

ooooo~ how fun, anon! Let's see what I got... first headcanon request, here we go!!

A/N: I've gotten several fun asks recently, and am moving those larger works to the top of my WIPs as time allows. This is so fun, and you all suggesting prompts like these make it a joy!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Fem!reader (SFW)

MARRIED HEADCANONS!

Married!Izuku who -even though you're coming up on your third wedding anniversary- still crams love notes on index cards into your e-reader before he leaves for the day. You have it plugged into the side table of the living room and will pick it up as soon as you come home from work to wind down; so even though he will have a later arrival home than you, you'll hardly feel alone with Izuku's words of affirmation pouring out their surprise greeting.

Izuku writes in the middle of the night when he wakes before you- whether by an overactive mind or a nightmare he'd sooner forget. Rather than disturb your much needed rest, will channel reflective thoughts towards you onto paper- and sneaks their secrets around the house where you'll least expect them. Just when you think you know all his hiding spots, he picks a new one to surprise you. Once satisfied with his "journaling" tactic, he'll scoop you back up against him and settle into sleep.

Married!Izuku who chooses a travel tumbler for you every morning and fills it every time it's empty. Car ride ahead? It's crafted with your homebrewed coffee to keep you awake. Got a photoshoot ahead? Water it is, keeping his love hydrated. You are his beloved beverage goblin and though he finds your car to be a tervis graveyard, what's one more dish to wash if it makes you happy?

This man, who will hiss when your hands are too cold against his, getting ramped up far too easily when it comes to worrying over your health... meanwhile Izuku toughs through the worst of allergies himself with a hundred sniffles (and an aversion to cough medicine.) It's one of the first big arguments you had as a couple: you forcing him to take better care of himself when his self-preservation streak peeks through and nearly wears him into the ground during grad school. He'll start to defend himself, only to be caught by flashbacks to the last time he tried managing things on his own, and rightfully apologize. You are a team, and Izuku tries his hardest to let you step in and give him the same care and caution he gives you. It's a hard lesson, managing pride when it comes to taking care of someone so selflessly, and Izuku is still unused to this treatment when turned to himself. You're doing your best, armed with a world of grace to set him straight.~

Married!Izuku who is a phenomenal teacher. One of the most patient souls you've ever met, which is a large draw that led you to date him! You're encouraged to stretch your ways of thinking, listening to his alternative points of view... and find yourself marveling that a man who's so closely engrossed with training the next generation of heroes is still so happy to watch the news at the end of the day in hopes of learning more!

You've gifted him a notetaking tablet that's meant to replace his waning supply of favorite notebooks, but if you find that blue Campus brand in a shop that's selling your brand deals somewhere, you are absolutely picking it up for him. He cries every time you make him close his eyes and hold out his hands, producing your surprise in giddy silence. "They don't make this edition anymore!! H-HONEY!!"

^^^After a day of sparring with his students -giving them a run for their money- you'll be the one patching him up out of sight of Recovery Girl, everything from a lightly busted lip to each blooming bruise he's gonna feel in the morning. You're surprised he's getting hit as much as he is when he's still renowned as one of the heartiest teachers at UA- quirk or not, he is no lightweight. You may worry over him just as much, but with your honorary brother-in-law 'Kacchan' running drills on him on the weekends, you know Izuku is in tip-top shape. No one is invincible, after all.

Will gladly talk to your mom on the phone~ welcomes it, actually! Izuku wants to learn every little tidbit and creature comfort he can about you, so any nerves he had about meeting your family when you began dating dissolved once he kept that goal in mind. (This mentality won your father over well, to a comical degree once Izuku showed him the notes folder on his phone with your die-hard favorite secret pleasures only a loved one would know...) Allmight makes his trip to your dinner table every other week or so, becoming a ready and available father figure to you while yours lives hours away. It does your heart a world of good sitting in his nurturing company.

Married!Izuku will carry your luggage to and from the airport without a single grunt or complaint (That's what he continues to work out for, even as a teacher!) A few tears upon departure and arrival, sure, but will always ground himself steady in his pride over the hard work you're putting in. He's the one who calls to wish you a goodnight when you're on location for hero support, and a sends a text for every morning and lunch break. Regardless of timezone, he's going to make sure you are part of his routine like nothing's changed. You rely on this consistancy more than life. Living apart -even short term- is expected at this stage of your career where you're needed more than ever to help fund your hero ventures through sponsorships... but Izuku will forever be your biggest supporter.

///Little does he know, you are cramming in twice as many roles to help fund a certain someone's hero suit development, per Bakugou's discretion. It's the one, solitary lie of omission you keep from your husband, but one you trust is going to be worth it in the end to see him shine where he wants to once again. He'll always be your hero, but you'll help him see that realized self any way you can.///

Married!Izuku will be flooding the groupchat with every single advertisement that features your face. Every last one. And there are many. The girls will share you on each of their socials in support of whatever you are sporting, while the boys will... look respectfully and congratulate Izuku on his absolute knockout of a girl. Izuku is just insanely proud of his wife and will make it everyone's problem~

He may be operating on a teacher's salary, but is the most thoughtful gift-giver. Married!Izuku will choose experiences over 'things' when it comes to you, like vacationing to the largest library in the world where you can spend hours holed up on a loveseat somewhere, taking notes on all the old tomes you find, using those classic academia desks as if you were still at the 'study abroad' college where you met... Trip planning gives you both something to look forward to amidst your busy schedules, and takes the financial pressure off you both as well. Not that he won't still treat you to just about anything you ask for when you're giving him that sweet, small 'please' standing in the checkout line at the corner store...

Married!Izuku, who misses you adorably when you're not home. He runs a fairly typical working schedule that lines up with yours for the most part-- makes him the happiest, coming home to you! You adhere to a few sacred rules in your shared home: you always go to bed together, you can occasionally go to bed angry- but always remain in each other's corners, and you know giving him head scritches is the easiest way to make Izuku pliant enough to sleep. He'll nurse your migraines that aren't so pretty, you'll give his hands massages when the phantom pains make them ache. Whatever you can do to give your man some ease into his life, you give wholeheartedly.

You'll kiss Izuku's every trouble away; and the ones that linger, you'll tend to as gently as you can until you can replace the thoughts with something sweeter, kinder, delicately on his still-healing heart when the embers remind him of old hurts you weren't around to see. You care for Deku just as you do your darling Izuku- as they are two sides of the same coin. You polish and affirm them both, strengthening all the parts that have made your life partner the man he is today. That made him him.

Married!Izuku: your darling husband with eyes that light up when you enter a room, mist up when they see you down, and stare eternally grateful on you as you listen and take in every word he has to give and through every promise shared-- just like your vows.

[hibiscusseaart]

huge ass post with MadaTobi Babies

its finally done, its almost 1 am, I started at 7 pm

OK SO HERE THEY ARE

So a little lore and then I'm gonna introduce them.

As you may remember from my earlier post, Tobirama (they married when he was 19) after the marriage, decided to create a child to tie Madara to him and the village stronger just in case Madara would try to leave the village. He couldn't destroy the village if there's his kid running around, right?

So Tobirama started learning biology pretty early in their marriage + Itama (@oh-no-its-bird 's one) helped a lot too. Mito helped with the seals to make an incubator. Tobirama didn't want a surrogate mother just because he was afraid that Madara would get attached to the mother of his children and he didn’t want that (plus he's jealous but doesn't realise it 🤭).

He created some sort of very real transformation jutsu that would trick his body to think that he has ovaries and he'd get the eggs that way! But he couldn't keep uterus and ect for 9 months, plus this jutsu is HARD to keep on for very long periods of time. It's easier to make a few organs from chakra that could produce real eggs than a whole new system. Plus Tobirama really didn't want to get pregnant and he wasn't sure he wouldn't fuck up his own body. Tobirama, with as gray morale as his, could just scrap failed embryo and start anew. He can't do that with his own body.

Anyway, incubator it is!

At first he did all of that in secret, stealing Madara's sperm (that's... a thing now) for his first experiments while they had sex. (Tobirama fucking Madara real hard that he’d pass out after and then take samples) ANYWAY

So he announced about his plans when the first stable and pretty healthy embryo was ready.

The first baby, Motoko! The melanin quee. She got all of it. Nothing left for her brother or sister. Ofc she's not THAT dark skinned, but she is for an Uchiha who are mostly white as a paper in canon.

(Tobirama is 21 for reference)

Her name literally means "Experiment seed first". Tobirama named this project this way for secrecy if someone would overhear his talks with Itama and Mito. It’d be Uchiha clan head’s child so hush-hush.

The name meanings + kanji! Hope I got them right, I have no japanese knowledge

oh and there is flirting with past and time in general in this name so it might be Tobirama reminiscing his first timeline. Like Motoko didn't even EXIST before.

So when he presented the embryo to Madara and Hashirama, they were ecstatic of course.

Madara almost cried. Hashirama became a river of tears.

Madara never really hoped for his own children since he married Tobirama cuz, well, they're both men. Doesn't really work that way. But Tobirama made it work and Madara is in love all over again.

Madara refuses to leave their future baby for a long time, just looking at them in the incubator. But the baby doesn’t need much there so Tobirama makes him leave and live a life while they’re waiting when the kid is ready.

Oh and Madara was SO against the name that basically means “experiment seed 1”. But when Tobirama asked if he got smth better, he ran away to his compound and tried to find the PERFECT names. He got lost in so many variations and never really decided. So when the kid was “born” (Tobirama just… took her out of the incubator*) and medics checked her, Madara took her in his hands, started crying and while he was having “A moment” Tobirama wrote her name as Motoko, cuz they needed it for administration and Uchiha clan.

*come to think about it, wouldn’t it fuck up a kid a bit? i mean, children develop under pressure of their mother’s organs and they’re in tight position. maybe test tube kids don’t really like to be wrapped in cloth? as i know ppl do that with newborns to imitate feelings like they’re in the womb.

But this name also can be read as “Festival child” so its kinda cute? Madara def told her that that’s exactly what her name means. No seed 1.

Interesting thing, when Tobirama made the baby, he thought he’d make a boy first, a heir. But something went wrong and the kid developed to be a girl. Tobirama was confused why. But technically, the kid is a boy with XY chromosomes but bc of their development and being a genetic experiment something went wrong and they developed as a female (its a real thing btw).

In the long run it didn’t really matter except that Motoko can’t have her own kids bc of all hormonal weirdness. And I don’t think that Tobirama would figure all of that out. He’d think he made some mistake when choosing gender, but kid was born healthy after all. Ofc when they found out that Motoko can’t have kids Tobirama will blame himself, that he ruined his daughter’s life. But she’s would be ok, she had her little siblings growing up and other clan kids so she’s done babysitting.

Okay for her personality! I think she’s kinda like Shisui? Very happy kid, spoiled rotten by her uncles (Hashirama and Izuna compete who is THE BEST uncle) and Tou-san (Madara). Btw Tobirama refuses to be called Kaa-san or any motherly terms. He’s barely holding a kunai in his pockets when Madara calls him wife.

But she’s also very Uchiha with temper and protectiveness. She was trained to be very much Uchiha cuz she’s the future clan head so her jutsu’s are strongly fire natured. Oh and her secondary nature is eath! She took it from the Senju side :)

Good sensor, but not as strong as her other siblings. Have really good chakra reserves and vicious on the battlefield.

Surprisingly looks really like Madara and Izuna’s mom. Her face is all that. Has soft dark hair and soft features. Considered to be very beautiful among Uchihas.

Oh and as you can see, I wrote that she has the Mangekyo. She got it when she was around 14. She was already really strong and cuz of her family, she got cocky. So, you ask me, who died? I think it’d be her female teammate (maybe from Hatake clan? idk I take suggestions) who she was in love with.

So yeah, she got a reality check. Because she got Mangekyo, Tobirama didn’t want her baby to lose her sight, so he improved his own seals that helped him with his albinism. Seals improve his sight and protect from the sun. So he drew Motoko tattoos on her face, like his. Years later it’d be a new feature of the main line.

But before that, when Motoko is 12 and Tobirama is 29, after 8 years of research (and possibly sealing/killing Black Zetsu in the meantime) he decided to try to make another kid. He still wanted a boy.

And he was successful. Meet Akemori! The Music King

The name was suggested by Hashirama. It means “red forest”. Red eyes, plus he sensed that the kid has a bit of mokuton!

But on the downside, Akemori was born an albino. Tobirama himself was really lucky, cuz he had a strong health and I hc that he still has healing abilities, but not as strong as Hashirama’s. But it still helped him in his childhood.

Not for Akemori tho. He was a sickly child, almost blind and burned on the sun easily. Tobirama had to put seals on him when he was about 3 years old. But even then his eyesight was still poor. Seals can’t fix everything.

Tobirama, once again, feels guilty that he didn’t notice any mistakes when he was creating the child.

And being born almost blind in Uchiha clan of all people wasn’t really nice. Though he is still clan head’s child and has a whole bunch of very powerful adults to protect him. Plus his older sister who loves him very much and wants to protect him from any harm.

But because of health issues Akemori was never really trained in shinobi arts. Well, he was trained (his fathers are literally… them) just that he could protect himself, but no one expected him to go on missions or even become a shinobi at all. Uchiha elders treated him as a potential political marriage pawn (even though Madara and Tobirama would never let them do that). Akemori caught on that and never had the motivation to become a shinobi at all. He was offended and said that he’d NEVER become a shinobi.

Madara was a little mad at that, cuz they’re SHINOBI clan, what the hell. But he shut up the second Tobirama sent him The Look. Tobirama was ok with Akemori’s wishes, like his twin and himself are shinobi by necessity, but they finds more joy in research.

Akemori was trained in Mokuton by Hashirama of course, even though Senju elders bitched about him selling clan secrets to Uchiha. But Hokage does what he wants.

Akemori’s mokuton isn’t as strong as Hashirama’s, plus he never really wanted to fight. But he was good with plants so he joined Itama-oji in his research a lot! Especially since Hashirama is busy with Hokage stuff, Itama was delighted to get a new helper.

Akemori is also a really good sensor because, like Tobirama, he had to compensate his bad eyesight. Basically, Akemori is a very Tobirama’s kid.

Surprisingly, he awakened the Sharingan! He was 6 and some foreign ninja (prob Kumo) thought it’d be cool to steal a kid with the Sharingan. Because of his naturally red eyes Akemori got stolen. Ofc when Tobirama felt his kid out of Konoha bonds, he sounded the alarm in the whole Uchiha clan to check on their kids whereabouts and was first to chase the kidnappers.

Kumo nin were killed by a very mad Tobirama and bc of the stress Akemori awakened the Sharingan. It wasn’t much of a use for him, since he’s not a shinobi. But at least Uchihas acknowledge him as a fellow Uchiha and not just Tobirama’s carbon copy.

(btw noone outside immediate family actually KNOWS where the kids coming from. They don't see any pregnant women in the main line house or anyone in the clan with the same time who gave birth these days. Tobirama himself or god forbid Madara aren't ever seen pregnant. Where the fuck kids are coming from? Do they just spawn in the house or what)

(they basically do spawn)

Sharingan helps Akemori to actually see! At least he could see something and could read. But stll, its not really strong, cuz not trained enough.

Basically Akemori is a perfect mix between Senju and Uchiha with Sharingan and Mokuton, but he was nerfed by albinism.

Being almost blind boy who can navigate only with his sensing, doesn’t gives him much hobbies. Ofc he helps Itama and he studies plants and medicine a lot with him, but he still needs a hobby. Books don’t work for him, any type of handicrafts too cuz he can’t just use Sharingan all the time, his head hurts and sometimes he doesn't want to remember a whole book perfectly. He’s also not very interested in training as a hobby.

So in his tweens while Itama and he were traveling (with Uchiha escort (prob Motoko) just in case) to the near town for some medicine and plants, he noticed (heard) a group of musicians and he fell in love.

Itama immediately bought him an instrument (maybe Biwa?).

And now the second son of Uchiha Madara became a musician! Isn’t it fun. Elders are furious.

Madara was baffled but “You do you, son. When you learn, show us? Oh and maybe you can copy someone else’s playing, but be discreet. They may not like that you’d try to copy their music. Shinobi don’t really like when we copy their jutsus too”

With age he learned to play several instruments (I take suggestions on which ones). Some people even thought that he’s trained to become geisha (he's not, he's just a pretty boy who plays music for fun).

When he grow old enough, Itama started to give him weed for inspiration and to relax. Akemori is prone to quiet anxiety attacks after he was kidnapped.

Okay, the final kid. She was born 4 years later after Akemori.

Nari! The pout queen

Madara finally got to name his kid. Her name means “Calm, harmonic village”. Yeah he decided to name his kid after a village. It's still better than Konohamaru

And she’s the final kid, because Tobirama finally got it and produced a “normal” healthy kid. Plus he's not sure how many kids (3) and students (another 4 and Kagami) he can actually handle.

She has very Uchiha coloring, but Tobirama’s facial features. She also inherited his stare.

She’s the baby of the family, but she grew up slightly strict and serious cuz she stayed a lot with Tobirama, cuz he decided he won’t spend another maternity leave out of the Tower. The first two times were a disaster when he came back.

Tobirama left on maternity leaves just cuz he needed to monitor his kids health, especially Akemori’s. Idk about Konoha maternity leaves, but they should be really short, since well shinobi are needed all year long and they can’t wait for mother-shinobi to spend a whole year on that. Though on the other side, mothers need time to recover or they won’t be able to perform good on their missions (plus they probably have a milk smell lol). Who knows, maybe Tobirama was the one who drafted a law about at least one year maternity leave. He got very popular among kunoichi (can you believe that I just remembered that this word exists)

Nari is really like Izuna, but got her temper under control. Maybe think of teen Kakashi but without dead fathers and angst. But also brat.

Her chakra is water nature and she has 0 affinity with fire. Still she did produce great fireball as their traditions dictated, even though it took her many trials and errors. After that she decided that she hates traditions like that. Got really rebellious in her teens, about 13 and even tried to challenge her sister (25) for the clan head position. She didn’t win ofc and was bitter about it.

Also because her sister and brother both have seals, she always dreamed of the same, cuz as a baby she thought that it’s something special for their family. But Tobirama doesn’t think she needs them cuz her sight is perfect and her skin is pale, but it doesn’t burn like Akemori’s.

It triggered interest for seals in general cuz “FINE if you won’t give me seals, I’ll just make them myself!”

Tobirama was completely okay with it. He always strives to encourage kids when they want to learn something new. So he sicked her at Mito. Though his aunt was quite happy to teach her niece sealing art.

also idk why i write evil near her. she's just a brat. though she has the potential to become Azula ish

And that’s it!

I will write more about them later cuz im tired. I have some other ideas I wanna expand. Like Tobirama introducing his pups to his Hatake aunt (did i tell you that i LOVE Hatakes?),

Oh and fun little sketches close ups for a treat

i love this Hashirama with the kids, ugh he's so father

if you have any questions you can send them to my ask box!

[team7-headquarter]

I genuinely think any ship within the og Team 7 students would make sense. There're 0 reasons to fight about it, they're all just as justified.

Naruto was obsessed for yeeeeeaaaars with his teammates. He looked at them like they hung the moon and the stars in the sky for him. Sasuke and Sakura were the only boy and girl on Earth, lol.

Sasuke and Sakura were used to being cruel to put some distance between them and the world. Defense mechanism or not, Naruto was maybe the only person in the entire world that would never eat that up. He knew feeling lonely, he knew being hurt, he knew to feel useless... Fuck that, for him, there would never be as someone as awesome as his teammates.

His most important promise in life was to save Sasuke, for both his, Sakura's and his own sake.

In return, Sasuke and Sakura would never shut up about him either. His their saviour, their hero, their sun and the boy fills their lives with joy.

That's why any ship with him works!

For Sakura, it's that there was textual romantic tension with both of them for the entire series. Their chemistry and backstory were intentionally written. That Kishimoto decided on the canon ships in the end, okay, but any of them could have worked. If you can't feel the love between them, blame the writing and not the characters, 'cause it was clear that Kishimoto wanted people to think of them as a love triangle for some time.

Since the genin days, she was their it girl. No one touches Sakura, no one hurts Sakura, blah blah blah. In exchange, even when she wasn't strong enough, she'd use herself as a shield for them. It makes no sense, but she'd jump between any attack and them at any moment. She would run to them when they have lost their mind, not even scared of them as much as she was scared for them.

She defended both of them when other people criticized them. She also lost faith and tried to manipulate them or kill them at some point out of pure desperation of keeping one of them alive. She was the one left behind time and time again, they are her whole reason to be who she is and to be a medic nin. All she ever wanted was to walk alongside them, not behind them.

Again, it works.

With Sasuke is so easy.

Naruto and Sakura were obsessed with him to the point of following him to the literal almost end of the world. The definition of hatred being actually love, because they'd be at each other's throats about it. Their goal in life? Sasuke. The person they cried about at night? Sasuke. What would they wish upon a star? For Sasuke to come back.

And Sasuke couldn't stop thinking about them. In his mind, they were always there. They'd follow him, almost haunt him. They were annoying and rude and ignorant, they were stupid, weak even, he loved them so much that he convinced himself he needed to kill them, cut their bonds.

They harbor endless love for him and with time, he came to understand that's just how they were and accept it.

The loyal 12 years old that would rather take the attacks himself than let his teammates be in any type of danger, did a full cycle and came to be the devoted man that vowed to atone for his mistakes and return to them one day.

If they gave themselves freely to him and almost without a reason, Sasuke gave himself back with all the reasons in the world.

Do I even have to explain why narusasusaku works too or—????

Anyway.

I could never fight over what's the better ship when I know they are all insane about each other.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Sparring Matches

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: The BAU undergoes PT evaluations, that includes sparring matches. And in the ring will be the secret couple, tipping off the rest of the team.

Warnings: Canon level violence secret relationship, slight suggestive language

Word Count: 2.7k

Masterlist

The BAU were all sat in the bullpen trying to get work done when their Unit Chief, and Y/N’s secret boyfriend, walked out of his office, overseeing his team. “I have some bad news,” he announced, catching everyone’s attention.

“Another case?” Rossi guessed, coming out of his own office.

“No, the new Section Chief wants us to perform physical evaluations.” That earned groans from Spencer and Garcia. Meanwhile Derek and Emily were already placing bets about how each other would perform in each activity.

“But we haven’t had to do physical training in years because of field hours!” Reid protested.

Internally Aaron chucked at the doctor’s childlike protest, reminding him of Jack when he didn’t want to do something. “I’m sorry but he’s insistent and won’t be allowing waivers for any of you… except Rossi as well as Garcia because she’s never in the field.”

“Whoo!” she cheered, earning another groan from Spencer.

“And due to a recent incident… we will also be evaluated in hand to hand combat.” Everyone on the team turned to look at Y/N.

“He snuck up on me!” she defended for the millionth time. “I still beat him.”

“Still got a broken rib out of it,” Derek informed tauntingly.

“You’re one to talk,” she scoffed. “You throw yourself through doors even if they’re unlocked.”

“Oh yeah? We’ll see who fairs better in the ring.”

Before Y/N could get another jab in her boyfriend spoke. “Seeing as we are one of the most hands on units the Section Leader wants us to compete with each other so he can get an idea of our capabilities and because we are the most evenly matched. Thank you,” he dismissed, promptly walking back into his office so he didn’t have to witness anymore bickering. As much as Aaron loved the team, especially Y/N, he didn’t enjoy their bickering for prolonged periods of time.

Later that night at home, Aaron and Y/N were discussing the upcoming PT tests. “Why does he want us to fight each other?” she asked, plating their dinners.

“He said that based on reports we end up in physical combat a little too often,” he answered, setting the table. “He said that if we struggle too much then he’ll make it mandatory for us to have SWAT more often and no one will be allowed to move in on an unsub without SWAT presence.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous,” Y/N cried, carrying over the food. “Stupid bureaucrats thinking their ideas are god’s gift to the FBI without even being in the field within the past five years.”

Aaron chucked, taking his seat across from her. “Well an evaluation isn’t too bad of an idea considering…” his voice trailed off as both recalled the weeks Y/N spent lying in bed waiting for her rib to mend itself enough so she could walk.

Y/N blushed, always getting intensely embarrassed whenever anyone brought that up. “He was twice my size and snuck up on me. And then I still managed to pin him with a broken rib,” she pointed out.

“Yes you did,” Aaron agreed, admiring her scowl.

“So do you know who will be fighting who?”

“Yes, it’s a mix of someone you’re fairly evenly matched with and someone who’s very different. You and Prentiss will spar, as will JJ and Reid, then I’ll be against Morgan. As for the opposites I believe it will be Prentiss and Reid, JJ and Morgan, and then you and I?”

“You and I will spar?”

“Yes, don’t worry I won’t blindside you,” he chuckled.

“Oh I’m not worried about that,” she smirked coyly. “I’m a bit younger than you, a bit more spry if you will.”

“Well I don’t know that I can call you younger considering you just used the word ‘spry.’ Besides it’s not a competition.”

“Sure,” she hummed sarcastically.

That only egged on the normally cool Unit Chief. He put his utensils down, forgetting his meal before hardening his expression. The same look he gave the team when he needed them to stop behaving like children, causing Y/N to squirm. “I guarantee you I’ll have you pinned by the end of it. I’ve never had difficulty pinning you before.” Y/N choked on the sip of wine she was drinking at that comment. Before she could say anything her boyfriend was at her side with a napkin. “Be careful, Y/N,” he said slyly, bringing the napkin under her chin. She stared at him in disbelief at his ostentatiousness as he backed away, trailing the napkin across her skin with a smirk.

~

After a week of intense sexual tension it was sparring day. Everyone was stretching in the FBI wrestling room except for Spencer who looked like he’d pass out. “Don’t worry Spence, I’ll go easy on you tomorrow,” Emily smirked.

He looked dissatisfied but took it with a sarcastic “Thanks.”

JJ and Spencer were the first to get in the circle but as soon as the whistle blew and JJ started advancing at him he dropped to the ground. “I yield,” he pled, raising his hands.

“C’mon pretty boy, you gotta do better than that,” Derek called. But Reid was completely unwilling to fight if there was no real danger so JJ was declared the winner.

Next up were Y/N and Emily. “Be careful, Y/N. I’m kind of infamous for hand to hand combat,” Emily bragged.

“I was a marine for four years,” Y/N shrugged arrogantly.

“Whoo girl fight,” Derek jeered from the sidelines.

“Shut up, Derek,” both women called, not moving their gazes from each other.

Also from the sidelines Aaron was resisting the urge to tell Prentiss to go easy on Y/N. Not only would it infuriate Y/N, it would clue the team into their relationship. Hiding a relationship from profilers was difficult but so far Aaron felt that they had managed. As the whistle was blown, Aaron watched in mild horror, keeping his expression hardened, as his girlfriend fought another very highly trained FBI agent.

Derek and Reid came to their boss’ side. “My money’s on Prentiss, she’s stronger,” Derek bet.

Aaron stayed silent, worried he’d betray some sensitive information while being so focused on the fight. Fortunately for him, Reid chimed in with his analysis. “While Emily was a part of Interpol, a very specialized group of agents, Y/N’s younger and more agile. Her training in the marines, while not having as much focus on hand to hand combat, will help her and I’d argue makes her stronger than Emily considering the amount of carbo loading they do.”

Before Morgan could disagree Aaron watched as Y/N pinned Prentiss by literally sitting on her back and pulling Emily’s arm behind her back up in the air. When the whistle blew, declaring Y/N the winner she simply stood up, helped her teammate stand, and went to the bench for her water bottle without a word, not wanting to humiliate her teammate anymore.

Next it was Aaron and Derek stepping onto the mat. Y/N watched them with unwavering eyes, hoping her expression wasn’t too worried. Aaron was tough, he got into more than his fair share of scraps with unsubs and he was still strong and fit. But Derek was well… Derek. He practically lived at the gym when we weren’t on missions and had the most takedowns on the team, preferring to throw himself at the unsub rather than shoot.

Y/N forced herself to look away from the mat, turning her attention to JJ who was approaching. “This should be interesting,” she commented, observing the flurry of fists.

Y/N hummed in agreement, busying herself with the objects in her bag. “Yeah but Derek’s got him. Hotch is tough but Derek’s favorite pastime is taking down unsubs.” Looking up Y/N couldn’t help but cringe as Derek landed a punch on Aaron’s face but he took it like a champ, barely even flinching before pushing Derek back.

The match was long and bitter but it ended with Morgan pinning his boss to the mat. Both were exhausted with labored breaths as the whistle blew. The second it did, Derek moved off of Aaron, sitting at his side trying to catch his breath. Emily went over to Morgan, leaving Y/N the opportunity to go over to her boyfriend without making it too obvious.

“C’mon,” she said as casually as possible, helping him off the mat. Helping him over to the bench she brought him his water bottle, as did Emily for Morgan.

“We’ll continue onto the next portion tomorrow,” the ref informed us before taking his leave.

At Aaron’s house, Y/N was trying to treat his cuts and bruises as best she could. “Are you sure you’re up to sparring tomorrow?” she asked, placing an ice pack against his bruised jaw.

“I’m fine, just some superficial cuts and bruises,” he dismissed.

“Still that was pretty brutal, I could hardly watch.”

Aaron took the cold compress she had been using on him earlier, pressing it to her visibly bruised collarbone. “Was hard to watch you too,” he murmured, feeling a little embarrassed about being so sentimental and protective.

Y/N smiled softly, trying her best to hide it so her boyfriend wouldn’t get too embarrassed. “Let’s get you to bed,” she suggested, helping him up. “This is the longest we’ve gone without a case in a while. You should enjoy it.”

“By sleeping?”

“Yes, sleep is one of my favorite things.”

~

By the next morning Aaron’s face was mostly healed and it was time for the other sparring matches. First up: JJ and Morgan.

While JJ was far more agile and quicker than Derek, all it took was him getting a grip on her and she was pinned.

Next up were Reid and Prentiss. Spencer didn’t immediately collapse but after she swept his leg he never got back up.

And finally it was the two secret lovers. “Don’t worry, L/N, I won’t blindside you,” Aaron smirked just like he did when he first told her they’d be fighting. This was also the first instance of teasing the team had ever seen from their stoic boss.

“You couldn’t move fast enough,” Y/N sneered in return.

With the blow of the whistle both advanced, trying to gain the upper hand. As Aaron tried to grab Y/N she dropped down, kicking him in the legs. It wasn’t enough to knock him down though, only sending him stumbling a few steps. As Y/N was scrambling up, Aaron had already regained his footing. Approaching her again he grabbed her wrist giving him the opportunity to punch her in the face but he hesitated, not wanting to hit a woman much less the woman he loved. His hesitation gave her enough time to twist her arm from his grip. Taking the opportunity once again, she kicked at his legs, sending him sprawling on the ground. She then straddled his abdomen, smirking in victory. But Aaron wasn’t done yet, easily flipped her so now she laid on the mat with him straddling her hips. He watched in amusement as her eyes widened in shock and she tried to struggle free but it was no use seeing as Aaron was twice her size.

The whistle blew again bringing both back to the present. Keenly aware of the position they were in in front of the entire team, Aaron immediately scrambled up onto his feet. Reaching a friendly, professional hand down, he helped Y/N up. “Good match,” he said awkwardly before scurrying off to the bench where his water bottle sat.

Y/N took a second to catch her breath, trying to figure out what would be the least awkward and obvious next move. Fortunately for her, JJ was already bringing her her water bottle. “Thanks,” she wheezed.

“Yeah, how’re you feeling?” JJ sympathized, also just having taken a bit of a beating.

“Aside from having the wind knocked out of me? Fine. I’ll just need a few minutes,” Y/N coughed out.

On the other side of the gym Derek had the biggest grin on his face, very much enjoying teasing his boss. “That was quite the match. Interesting method of pinning L/N.”

Hotch was trying to quickly think of a way to dismiss Morgan without drawing too much attention to him and Y/N. So he just gave him the stern Unit Chief look that instantly shut everyone up. “That’s not appropriate,” was all he said before exiting towards the locker rooms, eager to be back in the safe authority of his suits.

On his way out it took most of his willpower not to think too much about the way he had his girlfriend pinned.

~

The sound of Aaron’s ringtone jolted the two FBI agents up. Aaron grabbed the phone from his nightstand, keeping an arm wrapped around Y/N as she pulled the sheets tighter, cuddling into his chest. She let out a soft groan at being woken up as Aaron answered it. “Hello?” he answered in his groggy morning voice. After a few seconds of muffled information from Garcia he spoke again. “Okay call the rest of the team. I’ll be right there.”

“Another case?” Y/N asked, not even thinking.

“Yeah, sounds like a serial killer in SoHo,” Aaron informed as he hung up. Realizing what just happened he cursed. “Shit.”

“What?” Y/N asked, still gaining her bearings.

“I hadn’t hung up yet.”

“Shit,” Y/N cursed as well. “Okay it’s fine, if anyone says anything you fell asleep on the couch with Jack.”

“Yeah, okay,” Aaron agreed beginning to get dressed in the dark.

Y/N’s phone then went off. “Hello?” she answered, already knowing who would be on the other line.

“Good news, we’re going to New York City, bad news there’s a serial killer,” Penelope announced.

“Okay, I’ll-”

“Ow!” Aaron deep yell and a crash cut Y/N off.

“Was that Hotch?” Penelope gasped in shock.

“No!” Y/N answered too quickly. “Uh no,” she tried to answer more nonchalantly, “it was a guy but definitely not Hotch.” She cringed at her words.

“Ooh details,” Garcia begged.

“Another time,” she promised. “I have to get dressed. See you in 15.” And with that she hung up. She groaned, throwing herself back onto the pillows. “They’re definitely going to figure it out. I don’t have my car and I live on the other side of town we won’t make it.”

“We’ll walk in a few minutes separated. We still have plausible deniability,” Aaron tried to soothe Y/N. “It’ll be fine.”

“You’re surprisingly calm about this,” she observed, getting up to find her clothes.

“Would it be such a bad thing if they found out?” he asked shyly.

“No,” she answered, “not the team. I worry about the Section Chief and others.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it if I have to,” Aaron promised, wrapping his girlfriend in his arms before pressing a kiss to her temple.

Once they pulled into one of the far parking lots, the couple scoped out the other cars as best they could from their seats. “I think we’re good,” Y/N informed. “Follow me in like 3 minutes later?”

Aaron nodded as Y/N opened her door but the second she opened the door, Derek’s car pulled up with Garcia in the passenger seat. “I knew that was Hotch’s voice!” she yelled.

The couple groaned. “Not a word to anyone outside the team, got it?” Y/N immediately demanded.

“Of course, of course,” Derek promised.

“When did you know?” Aaron asked.

“We all had our suspicions but we knew during your sparring match. You were way too comfortable sitting on top of each other. And then my lovely Ms. Garcia’s phone calls confirmed you spent the night together,” Derek smirked.

Meanwhile Garcia was already group calling Emily, Spencer, JJ, and Rossi. “Hotch and L/N confirmed,” she squealed.

Masterlist

[ninii-winchester]

Unveiled Sorrows (Part 7)

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader, Sam Winchester X Reader (Platonic), Dean Winchester X Lisa Braden (mentioned)

Word count : 2.9k

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex (soft smut), language, fluff, Taylor Swift reference (?)

A/n : This series follows canon plot line but some scenes might happen differently or be completely changed. Check the warnings for each part before continuing.

A/n 2: gif (1) from Pinterest. Credits to owner.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

After the confrontation, Y/n went to her room and locked the door behind her. She let out soft sobs clearly distraught over what happened in the last hour. She sat on the ground with her back against the bed. She held onto Adeline as if she was going to disappear if she didn’t hold her tightly.

Dean paced in the hallway and he could her cries through the door. He has to make this right. He cannot live without her, not anymore. He's willing to do whatever it takes to make her trust him again. He knocked on the door twice waiting for her to open the door. Y/n looked away from the door pretending she didn't hear the knocks and hoped whoever it was might take a hint and leave.

"Sweetheart, open the door." She heard Dean's voice. "Baby please." He said softly. She didn't move at all. “Please." Dean begged.

Y/n sighed. There was no point in stalling. She can't trap herself in this room forever and the sooner she gets over with it, the better. She got up and unlocked the door but didn't open it. She sat on the bed with Adeline happily bouncing in her lap, unaware of all the chaos happening around her.

Dean heard the lock turn but the door didn't open, so he did it himself. He walked inside the room and sat beside her on the bed. Neither of them spoke. Adeline peeked at Dean's face with curious eyes. He smiled at the baby and she giggled in response. Dean could swear he has never fallen in love this fast. He has his whole world sitting beside him yet it seems so unreachable.

"Her name is Adeline Mary Winchester." Y/n spoke quietly. "She's four months old."

"She's perfect." He whispered.

Sitting beside him was too much. It was overwhelming her. Y/n put Adeline in her crib so she could play with her toys. Dean's eyes followed her as she stood and walked across the room. He walked the distance between them and stood behind her. He was too close, she could feel his chest pressing against her back.

"What do you want, Dean?" Her voice was low and strained.

"I want you. I want to be with our daughter." Dean whispered.

"I can't." She replied. He turned her so she was facing him. "Dean you shouldn't-" he didn't let her complete.

"Why should I not?" He asked.

"You shouldn't feel obligated to...you should have a family with the woman you love." She said moving away from him.

"You are the woman I love, that baby," he pointed to the crib, "we made that, she's the proof of our love."

"It wasn't love, Dean. It was just sex. Between hunting it was just a need." Y/n raised her voice a bit. She gasped as Dean grabbed her waist and pushed her against the nearest wall.

"You and I both know it wasn't just sex. What about the nights we shared other than on hunts, or the mornings after. Do you really think it was just sex when I could barely breathe without you." She averted her eyes from his.'

She knew it wasn't just sex. Maybe during hunts it was rough, to chase a release and let loose but she could vividly remember when he would go slow, his actions filled with passion, how he would hold her close when she would fall apart, tell her she means the world him. How he would wake her up with soft kisses and gentle touches. It was not just sex. 

"I know I was a coward. I thought I was protecting you, I guess I was just protecting myself from the inevitable heartbreak. I'm nothing without you, baby. Just a shell of a man. The past year, I've been holding onto the last thread of sanity. Living with Lisa and Ben, it was just familiarity. I would've gone mad had I been alone. I missed you like crazy, sweetheart. I love you so damn much." He said pressing his face in her neck, breathing her in.

"Dean." She sniffed. She pulled his head away from her neck. "As much as I want to, I can't keep you away from Adeline. You're her father. She deserves to have her father in her life. I can let you be a part of her life." He nodded and she continued. "You can't half ass it, either you're in or you stay gone. I don't want her to live off crumbs of her father.."

"Lisa and Ben, they..-" Dean started. "They're in danger." He can't just up and leave them alone to fend for themselves. The Djinn knows where they live and they can't even protect themselves.

"You have to make a decision, Dean."  Dean stepped back giving her, her space. Her heart broke. He's never going to choose her, is he? He always has something to choose over her. His conscience, his brother, the god damn world. It's anything but her. The look on her face was enough for Dean to know what she was thinking.

"Is there anything I can do to make it better?"

"Choose something, I've got nothing to believe unless you're choosing me."

"Why can't I..-" Dean rubbed his hands over his face. "Why can't I protect them and be with you.?"

"People riding in two boats usually end up drowning. And I won't let my daughter be collateral damage."

Dean looked at his daughter and something familiar in her crib caught his eye. It was his flannel that she was laying on.

"Is that..." he cleared his throat. "Is that my shirt?"

"Yeah, I wrapped her in it sometimes, just so she could somewhat feel the warmth of her father. Pathetic I know." Y/n chucked humourlessly.

"Can I hold her, please?." Dean asked though he wasn't sure if she'll let him. But he was willing to beg on his knees just so he could hold his daughter once.

"Go ahead." Her words caught him off guard. He didn't think she would, but then he wondered how tired she must've gotten of all the arguments, the tears and didn't have the energy to fight anymore.

Dean carefully picked up the baby girl supporting her head with his hand while he cradled her against his chest.

"Hey baby." He looked Adeline and he was mesmerised, in complete, utter awe. "You're so beautiful." He said gently rocking her. He would hold her as long as he could. Cherish the moment and brand it in his memory.

Y/n watched as Dean held Adeline. Why can't it always be like this. Why did he have to prioritise everything above their happiness. She's going to have to watch Adeline grow up without a father because he's too busy saving and protecting people. And this is why we can't have good things.

"I love you so much, my darling. You're my light. You're my angel. I wish I could've had more time you." Dean spoke to his baby who did not understand a single word. No thought behind those beautiful green eyes as she continued patting her father's tear stricken face.

Dean held his daughter for hours but for him it felt like a few minutes. Adeline started getting fussy since she was hungry and wanted her mother. Before Y/n could go over to him, he walked over to her. She scooped Adeline in her arms and brought her to her chest so she could breastfeed her. Dean looked away giving her privacy.

"I know I'm in no place to ask for favours but can I ask you for something?" Dean said still looking away from her.

"What is it?"

"Can we... pretend that everything is normal, just for today. Just you, me and our daughter?"

"I'd like that." She rasped. She knew she wants him. Just because she can't have him forever doesn't mean she can't pretend for one night. Dean was surprised but he didn't show it. A small smile graced his lips. A few moments pass in silence and Adeline was full.

"Do you want to... uh burp her?" Y/n asked uncomfortably. She wasn't sure why she did but that's what normal families do right? How would she even know. She's never known a 'normal' family.

"I'd love to but I don't know how." Dean rubbed his neck nervously. She grinned at his bashfulness.

"Here I'll teach you." She said standing up and making him stand too. She gave Adeline to him and put a towel on his shoulder. "Now you hold her up straight and pat her gently on the back." She showed him how to do it and he hesitantly tried. Addy let out a little burp and y/n cooed at her daughter. "See." She smiled at Dean who looked proud of himself.

"That wasn't so bad. I couldn't have messed that up." Dean grinned.

"Yeah yeah." She sat back on the bed.

Dean laid Adeline on the bed in the middle and laid on his stomach to watch his little angel. He pressed kisses to her cheeks and forehead. He kissed her little feet and feigned biting that made the baby giggle. Y/n had a huge smile on her face as she watched him play with her. Dean blew raspberries on her stomach. Adeline flailed her tiny arms and legs as he did that.

"You continue doing that and she'll throw up on your face." Y/n chuckled warning him.

"She would not." Dean gasped. "You wouldn't do that to daddy would you, my angel?" Dean asked Addy.

"She might." Y/n smiled and sighed sitting back against the headboard. No matter how much they pretend it would all come to an end soon. "Also, sorry to cut you fun short but it's time for her to sleep."

"Already?" Dean whined like a child.

"Its nine pm, Dean. You've been playing with her for hours." She reminded him softly. Dean truly lost track of time while being with his daughter. "You can put her to bed."

She watched as Dean rocked her back and forth, lulling her to sleep. Her heart constricted in her chest. Why did they have to sacrifice everything. It wasn't their fault they were hunters. This life was thursted upon them, they had no say in it. Why couldn't they live a normal life where everyone was safe and happy. Dean started humming a song and she recognised it as 'Hey Jude by The Beatles', he’d told her, it was the song his mom sang to him. Y/n watched Adeline's eyes droop as she laid her head on her father's shoulder. Mintues later she was fast asleep. Dean laid her in her crib and leaned over to whisper.

"Good night baby. The angels are watching over you." That made y/n suck in a deep breath at that. His mother used to tell him that every night.

In another world, Dean Winchester would've been an amazing father to Adeline Winchester.

Y/n got settled into bed and got under the covers. Dean noticed and couldn't help but ask.

"You're sleeping? You haven't even eaten."

"I'm exhausted. I just need sleep." Dean knew his luck was in overtime, he shouldn't be asking for more. He couldn't stop his tongue before he blurt out.

"Can I stay?" His question shocked them both. But what's done is done. He said what he said. He waited in anticipation for her answer. He knew he pushed his luck. To make it less awkward for both of them it was better if he left. He turned to leave but her voice stopped him.

"Stay, Dean." Those two were enough for him to kick off his shoes and get into bed with her. They had a decent distance between them. Y/n stared at ceiling while he stared at her. "She's a good woman. She'll keep you happy." She whispered in the silence.

"I don't want to talk about that." He replied grabbing her waist and pulling her into him. His other arm going under her head so her head was laying on his shoulder. She didn't protest. She let him pull her closer. God knows she wanted to be in his arms just as much.

"Why did it have to be us?" She wondered out loud.

"I don't know baby. But I know it all sucks." Dean replied hiding his face in her neck.

"You got old." She chuckled lightly.

"Huh?" Dean asked looking at her.

"You got your ass handed to you at poker by some witch and you turned old." She laughed, a real laugh.

"I'm going to kill Sam." Dean groaned but smiling nonetheless.

"You've got a bit of stubble." She cupped his face and caressed his cheek with her thumb.

"Yeah well I was on the verge of being killed by a Djinn so I'm sorry if I didn't have time to shave." He sassed.

"It's alright. I like it." Dean continued to gaze at her lovingly, his hands caressing her bare skin. "Dean." He hummed in response. "I love you."

"I love you. So much." He whispered, he thought if he spoke too loudly the spell would break and he won't be where he was.

"Love me goodbye." Y/n said her voice barely audible.

"Don't say that." Dean begged.

"Please." He doesn't know whether it was the way she looked at him or the way she said it but something in him snapped and he pressed his lips to hers. It wasn't like any kiss they've shared. They've had their fair share of passionate kisses but this was slow and sensual. Dean hovered above her leaning on his arms placed on either side of her head. She grabbed the back of his head pulling him even closer if that was possible.

"Dean." She gasped as the broke apart.

"It's okay baby, I've got you." He said placing open mouthed kisses on her neck. "I'm here." He assured her between kisses.

It was only a matter of seconds, their clothes were strewn across the room. Her heavy pants and breaths filled the room as Dean kissed all over her body. Starting from her collarbone, her chest, moving down to her stomach.

"Dean."

"What do you want, sweetheart?" Dean asked grabbing her hips.

"You, Dean. I want you."

"You have me sweetheart, I'm right here." He kissed and nipped at her jaw. "As long as you want me. I'm here." His deep voice sending jolts throughout her body.

"I need to feel you." She whimpered.

"Is that what you want, baby?" He slid his hand down over her body. She nodded eagerly. He didn't waste a second to give her what she wanted. She gasped at the sudden intrusion. One of his hands intertwined with hers and his other arm was propped on his elbow as he moved the hair from her face. "There's that pretty face. There's my angel." He cooed snapping his hips against hers.

"Oh Dean." She dragged her nails down his back.

"I know baby, i know." Dean captured her lips in a searing kiss. "Close?" He asked against her lips never wavering or pulling away. She nodded, lost in his loving. "Go ahead, give it to me." And the coil snapped. She let go with a loud moan of his name, Him following behind. He shivered resting his on her forehead. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She whispered and whimpered at the lost of contact as he rolled off her. He cleaned himself and helped clean up her. He put on his boxers before he got into bed with her. They both knew everything ends here now, for now they could only hold onto each other. She rested her head on his bare chest and drifted off to sleep. Dean didn't sleep, he didn't want this night to end. He stayed awake and cherished this moment for as long as he could.

A loud cry distracted him from his thoughts. Y/n groaned pushing the covers from her body.

"I've got her, you go back to sleep." He gently pushed her back to lay down.

"Dean-"

"Sleep sweetheart, I've got her." He kissed her forehead before getting out of bed. He walked over to the crib and picked up Addy. "Alright alright, daddy's here. Shh now." He said bouncing her lightly. Her cries died down slowly as he sang a lullaby to her. He looked at his baby sleeping on his chest and the woman sleeping in the bed. He could get used to it. After Addy fell asleep again, Dean went back to join Y/n in bed as wrapped his body over hers like a second skin. "I love you."

The next morning Y/n woke up at six am. Her eyes fluttered open, she looked around and realised, her bed was the same as her heart. Empty.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Do you think Rita’s assertion that albus lowkey stole someone else’s research on the 12 uses of dragons blood is true?

Thoughts on Rita Skeeter

Anon, you will probably be happier on other blogs.

To caveat, we of course don't know, Harry doesn't read that part of Rita's book nor look at her sources. And the Dumbledore Harry confronts later may very well be a hallucination, so we can't give too much credence to what he says either.

What I will say is that there are many people who at the time were desperate to defend Albus Dumbledore's legacy. We see one of them in Doge both in the article he writes and his discussion with Harry at Bill and Fleur's wedding.

Rita had to write this book knowing that everything was going to be heavily scrutinized and torn apart by those looking to defend this man. And the thing about Rita is... she writes in a sensational manner, she has little scruples when it comes to getting her evidence and what she chooses to print, but she's usually not dead wrong and her exaggerations are usually in the form of "as Harry spoke he cried great tears of sadness" and not lies about anything concrete. In fact, in those cases, she usually tells it how it is (see her article in GoF on the world cup, everything she wrote did happen, the beef Arthur has is not that it was what happened just that she wrote it wrong/shouldn't have written it at all). Later, when slandering Hermione, Rita doesn't say things that didn't happen, where she goes beyond the pale is framing it and speculating on Hermione's motivations.

My point is, it'd be Rita's style to say "I think Dumbledore did this because he is a FUCKER" but not so much "he did this fuckery all the time". She states what a person did then... draws conclusions from that which may or may not be true (or kind, or flattering, or something that should be put in print about a fourteen-year-old Muggle-born).

Rita said a lot worse about Dumbledore that was supported by mounds of evidence to the point where Doge could only splutter "well, technically that's all true, but you're making it sound much worse and everyone should suspect that there's a more benign, if kind of ridiculous, explanation". And in terms of Ariana, what actually happened was even worse than Rita learned from Bathilda.

If Rita even insinuated that Dumbledore engaged in plagiarism, without backing it up, the likes of Doge and everyone else for that matter would have ripped the book apart.

But we never see them do that, not one person, no matter how much they hate it.

She also cites a very specific incident, not every paper he's ever done in his career, which lends itself to her having checked thoroughly. And if we do believe in Dumbledore's ghost, then he admits to doing it but justifies it with "well, I made the idea better anyway".

Consider how much people engage in plagiarism in the real world, even when they're honest with most of their other work. And that's with a large culture of anti-plagiarism and copyright that the Wizarding World sort of has (in the anti-cheating sense) but also sort of doesn't.

It's not shocking to me that Dumbledore would plagiarize, and I'd be shocked, in fact, if he was the only one canonically to do so.

So, in short, yes, I believe it.

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Headcanons for the greasers x s/o who flinches when they raise their hand in a fight

Tw: Angsty ig, light potential violence, slight abusive

Ponyboy Curtis

-you two were arguing about his smoking again

-you really hates when he does it, and he does it too much

-so you express that one night when it’s just you two having dinner at the Curtis house, Darrys still working, and Soda is out with Steve

-“You need to quit smokin so much Ponyboy! It’ll kill you!”

“I can’t quit y/n, yk how I get without my cancer sticks, y/n, just lemme have one more!”

-soon it turns into a bigger arguement, and you both get into each others faces, yelling

-he raises his fist, not thinking, and pauses when he sees the fear in your eyes

-he feels immediately sick to his stomach, at the thought of scaring someone he loved so dearly

-as you run out of the house he yells “W-wait! Y/n! Y/n! I-i ain’t mean to I swear!”

-he feels horrible and definitely breaks down on his steps crying a bit and soda and carry find him there ask him what happened

-he explains and they exchange looks, and they make him go apologize

-he comes to your house with flowers and a handwritten apology, getting ready to leave them at your door when you open it

-before you can get a word in he’s already rambling “Y/n I-I am so sorry I would’ve never actually hit you, I hope you know that I’m so so sorry please don’t break up with me but I understand if you w-“

-you hug him

-“Ponyboy Micheal Curtis if you ever raise that fist again-“

-he never does

Johnny Cade

-it’s so hard to imagine him actually doing this

-I feel like the only way you’d get that kind of reaction out of him realistically is hurting his friends

-but for the sake of the hcs let’s say you both get into a fight and you try getting in his face or sum and he pushes you back, a lot harder then he meant

-you slam into the wall

-with tears down your cheeks, you always thought Johnny was your safe person, the last person on earth who would hurt you

-it wasn’t really about the pain, it didn’t hurt that much. But the fact he did it

-for Johnny, his world just shatters…. He just did what he swore he’d never do… lay hands on you

-he drops to his knees in shock at himself, feeling the worst pain imaginable looking at your wet eyes, your… scared eyes

-he knows that look so well, the one he’s had so many times himself and he feels his heart rip out when you run away from the lot

-in canon it takes a LOT to make him cry and this does it

-he cries in his hands, he can’t believe what he just did

-feels the worst out of all the greasers ☹️

-he lets you come to him, he doesn’t go to you, he wants to give you enough space from him

-when you come back and meet him at the lot his stomach does a flip

-“Y/n I didn’t mean to push you that hard I swear I wouldn’t ever hurt you I’m so sorry I’m just like my old man and ma…. I don’t ever wanna hurt you I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry….”

-practically drops to his knees before you

-you look at him, sighing, it’s impossible to stay mad at him

-you look him dead in the eyes as he gulps

“Johnny Cade you best never lay a finger on me again in that way y’hear?”

-he never comes close to doing that again, and even months later apologizes

Sodapop Curtis

-him doing this is so ooc like johnny lmao so it’s hard to protest and I think he’d again only ever do this if you attacked pony or sum

-you’re frustrated with him, he’s smart, dammit! Maybe a little slow, but when he gets things he gets them!

-and you really wish he could see that

-you both have enough collective money to push him through college to get a better job than a gas station

-and even if he is happy, he could be happier

-you both get into another arguement, and he grabs your arm, pulling you closer, and you squeal a little as your arm turns red

-he turns to you and meets your eyes, dropping your arm instantly

-you look at him in bewilderment and… fear as he starts

-“Y/n c’mon now please, wait…”

-but you’re out of that house faster than lightning

-he immediately goes to your house with flowers, and some jewelry that he’s been saving up to buy you

-you open the door “Soda, you can’t win my affection back with a half assed smile and-“

-he cuts you off with a sheepish grin “I- I actually intended to win you over in a different way…. Like an apology. I’m so sorry. I-After Sandy… I just can’t lose you too, to something so stupid. I’ll never do it again.”

-he is a man of his word

Darry Curtis

-one day he comes home, already tired from work and sees you there, crossed arms

-he forgot your anniversary… again

-he tried to apologize and you interrupted, furious

-he shoots back, arguing he can’t remember because he works all the time and actually does something with his life

-you get furious at this remark, and yell up in his face and he shoves you, (pb Curtis style 💀💀😭)

-you sit up, looking at him with tears because hell yes getting abused by Darry’s muscle mass hurts

-you look so scared and when darry meets your eyes his jaw drops, and he tries to apologize but you’ve already ran out of the house

-you head home and he comes to your door the next day, and the next

-your relationship takes the longest to heal

-about a month later you let him in and he’s mostly quiet, he feels horrible

-he lets you tell and scream at him and take out your anger, just so he can at least let you get it all out before he tries to apologize

-“Y/n I-i am really sorry. Sorrier than I ever have been in my entire life. I made one of the biggest mistakes I ever have and I am real sorry.”

-you stand up, and let out a teary sigh “if you ever lay another hand on me again I will leave you faster than you can’t count to three DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

-he nods

-it takes a very long time to repair your relationship, but once you do, he never lays a finger on you like that ever again

Dallas Winston

-one night, he gets a bit drunk and a girl kisses him

-you get mad, and see the whole thing before he pushes her away with disgust

-you think he cheated and yell at him about it when you both get home

-you both get HEATED and get in each others faces, this is definitely the most fast building fight

-he raises his palm up, nearly hitting you but taking a pause when he looks into your alone angry eyes, now with a layer of fear

-for a look the he’s used to getting so much his way, this hits differently

-he drops his hand, and looks down at it then back at you, and immediately tries to apologize

-“C’mon y/n I wasn’t actually gonna hit you you know that stop making such a big deal out of it-“

-you run out and he actually feels badly

-he won’t ever approach you first, he waits for you to come to him

-“Dallas Winston you NEVER do that again. Please.”

-he nods, and even, for the first time, apologizes sincerely

-he doesn’t ever do it again

Two Bit Matthews

-you two were joking around when suddenly he cracked a joke a bit too close to home

-you told him off and annoyed, he argued back

-pretty soon it was a full on fight, and he grabbed your hand and raised the other one

-you looked up at him “Two… were ya gonna hurt me?!”

-he snaps out of it, looking at you and instantly pulling away

-“Y/n, I’m so sorry… I-i don’t know what came over me. You know I couldn’t do that.”

-he looks into your eyes genuinely and you pause

-“Never again?” “Never again, promise.”

Steve Randle

-he left Ponyboy out of another hangout between him you and soda and you were mad, you knew it hurt Ponyboy

-you bring it up to him and he immediately deflects and rolls his eyes

-after a while things get pretty heated and he snaps, and grabs the collar of your shirt

-you gasp, and look down then up at him, and he looks at you, confused then guilty

-he looks at you as you back away “Y/n…… don’t be like that… I wouldn’t- I couldn’t-“

-you run out of the gas station and sit under a nearby tree, your head in your knees

-he runs after you, and squats down next to you, looking you in the eyes

-“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I know never do that to you. I’ll never do it again.”

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

4. John Fucking Marston

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: GUYS I GRADUATED MY FROM MY COURSE! i give you this chapter as a token of my celebration... now I just have to make sure I don't have any models fall off the runway in my line up lmao

Summary: The newest arrival makes his way into camp, and inadvertently becomes the reason that chaos begins to spread. Luckily, his new uncle Arthur is there to carry the woes on his broad shoulders.

Warnings: mild swearing, canon typical violence, birth?? mentions of past death and Arthur remembering his deadbeat dad days. drinking, mild alcohol abuse?? also Hosea is a real one we love Hosea

WC: 4.5k

“Need I remind you of the price you’re gonna pay?”  “She’ll be safe with you. The boy, too. I ain’t leavin’ them in incapable hands.” “But you’re leaving them,” Arthur reasoned, trying his best to make any last effort to save what could have been, but he knew his found brother would not be changing his mind. His only thought at this point was to beg him to stay. If only because he was the one who asked. “Don’t do this. They need you, we need you.”

A week after the heist, Arthur’s shoulder was feeling better… but his head was hurting like hell. 

In fact, on this specific night, nearly everyone’s head was throbbing on account of the wails and cries of terrible pain coming from the edge of camp. 

Abigail had gone into labor around five hours ago, and the little baby had still not come into the world yet. As of right now, the men were huddled close to the fire, passing around a fresh bottle of whiskey in attempts to pass out so they could get some sleep. Meanwhile, the women were rushing to and fro about the camp, working their asses off to bring a new life to the gang. 

You figured it would help you bond with the boys more if you sat with them, moaning and groaning about the noise… but you’d much rather be helping, making sure nothing went wrong in the tumultuous process of birth. 

It wasn’t until close to one in the morning that a tiny baby boy was born, strong as ever, with lungs so powerful they could blow a lark out of a tree. His cries replaced Abigails, but after all that time, everyone was pleased to know the delivery was over, and both parties were healthy and sound. 

The men did eventually pass out, all except two. 

Arthur and John were up till the crack of dawn arguing, and it didn’t look good from an outside perspective. 

You were about to take back towards your tent when you came across them, hurriedly getting out of their line of sight so you could listen without suspicion. You knew you had no right to eavesdrop, but with everything you’ve heard from Abigail concerning John, you were bursting with curiosity in a way that turned your stomach. 

“I don’t see why I need to be convinced otherwise,” John ripped into his dearest friend, and even from behind a wall of tented fabric, you could imagine the look on his face. 

“You’re makin’ a mistake right now, and you ain’t gonna see it until it’s too late.”

“How would you know? S’not like you did any better,” the tone of his voice was bitter, almost. John caught himself, taking a step back and breathing more evenly after his fit of anger. “I didn’t mean that, Arthur… but you oughta know where my head’s at.”

Arthur was silent, and you wished more than anything you could see the look on his face to determine how Marston had gotten to him. Was he saddened or angry? Maybe even confused? You didn’t know, but you didn’t have long to dwell on it. 

“You listen here, boy,” Arthur’s voice sounded threatening, intimidating. It was perhaps the scariest you’ve heard him speak. “You ain’t got no idea what’s comin’ to you if you leave. There will be no place in hell you’ll be able to hide from the decision you’re about to make. It’ll follow you the rest of your days, and haunt you when you’re dead, you understand me?”

John didn’t speak, didn’t answer or even mumble an excuse, he just walked away. He walked towards Abigail’s tent, ducking his head under and closing the front panel. You stood there stunned, afraid to move… but then Arthur came up around the backside of the area and scared the shit out of you. 

“You hear all that?” He asked, a slanted look in his eyes and a distaste for you in his tone. It might be the remnants from his past conversation, but you hate the way it sounds. 

“Arthur,” you caught your breath from the fright he gave you just in time to mumble out an apology. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be listenin’, but Abigail’s been telling me things and I just…”

He managed to huff out one silent breath of a laugh, shaking his head. 

“Don’t be fretin’ on my account, I ain’t mad at you.” 

You sighed in relief, stepping closer to him now that you didn’t feel so burdened. 

“I don’t know him very well, but what I’ve seen… he doesn’t know his head from his ass. Is he really gonna leave?”

“I don’t know,” he started, crossing his arms and letting out a small yawn. He’s just as tired as you are. “I think I just bought a few days, maybe more, but who knows.”

“You think he can change his mind?” You relaxed your demeanor in front of him, but kept your head on a swivel just in case

He was so tired, you felt bad for keeping him awake, but you figured these thoughts were weighing heavy on him, and it might be good to get it off his chest. “He’s far too stubborn to do it on his own. We’d all have to raise hell for him to think badly of his own choices.”

You frowned, turning towards the tent of the new, young family… There were already so many problems in their unit. 

“Poor Abigail.” 

She’d be alone, and with a child to take care of. And meanwhile John would be scott free and having the time of his life.

“She’ll be alright, her and the boy. I’ll make sure of it,” he nodded towards where you were staring. “Around the time he started acting up, I told her I’d marry her, be the kid’s father if she wanted me to.”

Your head snapped around to him, and you processed his words. Abigail told you about part of his offer, because you’d given her the same one, sans one detail…

“You’re gonna marry her?” 

“Only if she wants me to, if John leaves.”

Good to know… but not really. It looks to you like John is pretty set in his ways, even if he ends up staying through the week, or even more. 

You nodded to him, but you hated the notion that he could already be promised to another person, even if you had absolutely no plans on pursuing him yourself. It was a small little envious monster that crawled in the pit of your stomach, and for a split second, you felt yourself resenting Abigail, who thus far, had become your closest friend after Arthur. 

“I actually offered the same,” you laughed, shaking your head and kicking your boot into the ground. “Not that it would last, but I just wanted her to know I was willing to help.”

“The whole gang chips in here and there, bein’ a family and whatnot… She’ll never go without help,” he assured, his posture becoming heavier with each minute passing. 

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat and stretched your arms out, faking a massive yawn that looked real enough to pass you off. “It’s probably time we all turn in, huh?” 

For some reason he seemed vaguely sad for the interaction to be over. 

“Just about… I’ll catch you later, then,” he waved you off, heading back to his wagon and you to your tent. Even though they were relatively close, the entry points were on opposite sides.

You fell back into your cot with a heavy exhale. It’s been a long night, and with a crying baby in the camp, it’s looking to be a long next few months. 

-

The next few days were wonderful, despite the ill attitudes of a few grumbly men, Arthur not included. 

Dutch has been going on and on since the birth of the baby that the newest member should be given a worthy name. You assume he suggested his own namesake a few times, but since he’s been nothing but playful about the whole thing, you know he isn’t too bitter when they do finally settle on a name. 

Abigail picked it out, and you understand why. 

John Marston Jr, or as the two have taken to calling him already, Jack. 

You were surprised to see that waking up in the late afternoon the day of the birth, John was being… really different. He was putting in effort to help Abigail, he was making sure the others knew of all the information as it came, and most importantly, he was being positive about the whole situation. You suppose Arthur did knock some sense into him, and it was evident in how he was carrying himself. 

You weren’t sure how long it would last, but you felt relieved. Not only for Abigail, but selfishly, for yourself. If John sticks around and pulls his weight, Arthur doesn’t need to be tied down to a family. Not that he would ever see it that way, but still. 

You didn’t know where you stood with Arthur. He was a dear friend, you knew you could say that by now. You think that maybe the playful banter between you holds more than just friendship, but you can’t be sure, and you’re too damn chicken to test the waters. And obviously, a plain and simple conversation is entirely out of the question, because of ridiculous reasons you don’t care to list off. 

Maybe you’ll never know, and you’ll always be playing the game of ‘will we, won’t we’, unable to come to a sound conclusion. You think you’d be well enough with that, even if you never settle down with anyone. 

It’s a terrible absolute, and you should have never decided on it, but you think that being open ended and in this endless cycle of banter with Arthur is better than being in a committed relationship with anyone else. It makes the one on one interactions with him that much sweeter, though. Like today, when it was both your turns to watch baby Jack. The others were working on something in the town, and Abigail and some of the women were napping, having taken care of him through the night.

“He might be hungry,” you suggested, laughing at Arthur’s attempt to sooth the wailing infant. 

“I get hungry too, y’never see me cryin’ about it,” he was joking, clearly. He shook his head and reached for the glass bottle Miss Grimshaw had prepared this morning. 

Jack fed on the bottle and stopped crying, and in the aftermath, you paused to watch the scene before you. A big, gruff outlaw, with his hair tousled and shirt out of place from tiny hands fisting at it, and relaxed in his arms, a tiny baby being bottle fed. It was such a contradictory picture, but one you couldn’t tear your eyes away from. 

“Cute,” you mumbled, nearly under your breath, but he heard you. 

“He’s somethin’,” he chuckled, a small smile on his face when mentioning the boy he held so close. Arthur was many things, but amongst them was gentle. He was a kind creature by nature, that had only been hardened by experience, and these soft moments let his internal goodness show. 

“I meant you,” you teased, and he rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He didn’t even know how to respond for a second. 

“I’m quite the opposite, but I’ll thank you for the thought.”

As tough as he was, and as rightfully boastful over his skill with a weapon or with his bare hands, he seemed to negate himself often. His intelligence, his artistic talent, his looks, even his presence during group gatherings. It saddened you, and you didn’t even know the root of his struggle.

“Why you always doin’ that?” 

“Doin’ what?” he asked, his head tilted to the side and a narrow look on his face. 

“Bein’ mean to yourself…” you answered, sitting down on the other end of the log he was relaxing against. 

What a treat it would be for Arthur to see himself through your eyes. He’d never think poorly of himself again. 

“M’not, just the truth.” 

And that was even sadder. Who on earth ever convinced this man that he wasn’t good enough? Whoever it was, you’d like them to be on the other side of your pistol’s barrel. 

You huffed out a sigh, leaning forward so he didn’t have to strain his neck to look back at you. 

“Y’know it’s too damn bad, I happen to think you’re a pretty decent person. I pity anyone who thinks otherwise,” you spoke firmly, laying it on thick so that maybe he can come to terms with believing you. 

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm, very much so…”

He looked back down at Jack, trying to distract himself from your complimentary onslaught. He didn’t much care for compliments, so he wasn’t even sure how to receive them, if he accepted them at all. He has a very strong belief system, and it’s constantly just a mantra of things like ‘I am a bad man, I do bad things, I am dangerous, I am getting old, I am ugly,’ and so on. He didn’t understand how much he had hurt himself by forming those beliefs in the first place. 

You sat with him in silence for a few minutes, just watching Jack finish the bottle and settle into Arthur’s arm for a nap. He slept a lot for someone that cries through the night. Hearing the soft cries in the night isn’t peaceful, but it’s better than the anxiety and feeling of dread his cries brought you the first day, when John was set on leaving. 

You keep replaying a moment from that morning in your head, when the sun was just over the ridge, and you were heading to your tent… 

“Arthur?” 

“Yeah?” He turned his head again.

“The day he was born… that argument between you and John,” you wanted to make sure you phrased this correctly, unsure if it was a sensitive topic. “He’d apologized for sayin’ something… Sayin’ that you didn’t do any better? What was he talkin’ about?” 

Arthur took a deep inhale and shifted around in his seat, the ground beneath him feeling like it could cave in just at your words. John had struck deep with what he’d said, but having to rehash it, and with you… it wasn’t a thing he’d ever do for fun, to put it nicely. 

“I mean, him talkin’ about leaving Abigail, and you givin’ her your offer… You’re already better than he is.”

“I wasn’t always,” he shook his head. “Holdin’ him like this, it makes me remember just how terrible I am.”

You sank down from the log and scooted closer to him. No one in camp was around to see, so you didn’t bother looking. His eyes got foggy without even going into detail, so you didn’t push… but he seemed to open up on his own. 

“I had a boy when I was John’s age. Same situation n’ all,” he shook his head, trying to keep his sights on the ground in front of him. The longer he held Jack, the worse this feeling got, but he knew it wouldn’t ever go away, not really. Not with a new and constant reminder of his past. “His momma and I, we didn’t get on too well, so I kept with the gang. Didn’t ever come around except when we passed through that town. Could count on two hands the times I saw my own son…”

You didn’t know what to make of this. He has a son? Does he keep contact with him? You’re unsure if you want to know all the details, because hearing it as is, sounds messy. 

“Where does he live?” 

You had no idea that you’d just asked the worst question in response… but how else were you supposed to know? This was the first you’d heard of Arthur’s son. 

“He uh… he died, about three years ago,” Arthur shook his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat, though his teary eyes persisted. “They both did... I came back one day, and found two crosses in the yard. I asked around, townsfolk said a group of robbers came through and raided several homes.”

“Arthur…” you grabbed his arm gently, trying to convey your sympathy, and your sadness. 

“I knew it had been my fault. If I had been there, my son would be alive, his mother, too.” 

A cloud had rolled over the sun, and shrouded in a temporary shade of darkened light, the mood felt heavier than even his words could convey. This man and his layers, being peeled away before you… it was both touching, and terrible. You had no idea a man was capable of feeling so deeply, of being so open about his past and regrets. You’d never seen a man cry before. 

“Issac and Eliza were their names,” he finally looked at you, tears escaping his eyes at a rapid pace. He let them fall, somehow knowing you wouldn’t judge him for it. “And they aren’t here because of me.” 

You gently raised a hand and wiped his cheeks with your thumb, leaving your hand there for as long as he would let you. 

“I’m so sorry, Arthur…” 

Nothing you could say or do would help to heal his wounds, but you wanted to try. Wanted to be there for him, whatever that meant. You and him got on well. You were friends, but there was competition between you, all a part of your banter. You supposed you’d feel inclined to let him win in any circumstance from now on, just because you couldn’t bear to make him upset. Seeing him this way broke your heart, but it also empowered you in some way. To be more empathetic, and kind, and to not let your anger get the better of you. You’ve proven to him in the past that you were a hot head, no pun intended. You would have to be mindful of letting yourself fly off the hinge to him in the future. 

“Even if John doesn’t leave… I swear I’m gonna do right by this boy,” he let out, his voice trembling but his words were of certainty. 

You felt a tear roll down your own cheek, and did nothing to stop it. This moment, whatever it was, you wanted to feel it. Wanted to keep it buried within the depths of your soul. 

You’ve been on the run for four years now, and in those four years, you’ve been on your own, making some sort of fantasy world for yourself where death was just the thing at the end of a duel, and you never had to pay the toll of those losses. 

You’d not been living in reality, and coming to this gang, meeting Arthur… it must have been preordained. It must have been fate. He himself, day by day, was restoring your humanity, and your ability to feel something that wasn’t just a farce.

“Thank you for telling me,” you whispered, but being so close, he heard you clearly. 

He let out a huff that you suppose was meant to be a soft laugh. “You don’t just hear me, Red… you listen to me. I guess I’ll keep on tellin’ you things.”

And soon both your attentions were pulled back to Jack as he stirred slightly. 

You took a turn holding him while Arthur went to grab some food, and you found you rather liked this particular baby. He was a sweet little thing, not so bratty like the tiny cousins you grew up around. You can only hope he’ll stay this sweet as he grows older. 

-

A month had passed, and John was getting more angsty. 

Arthur was honestly surprised he had lasted this long. It seemed impossible that he stuck around, especially when he had to be the one to take a turn with the baby during the night. 

Fights had broken out with various members of the camp, mostly over John and his unwillingness to help anymore. Dutch had chewed him up and spit him out, and after that, John had made up his mind, for certain this time. 

“You ain’t leavin’, just sit down,” Arthur pulled him back by the shoulder, trying to stop him from packing up and saddling his horse.

“What makes you think I would stay with a bunch of folk who hate me?”

“We don’t hate you, you’re bein’ ridiculous. Sit down, we’ll talk about it.” Arthur tried to reach out for him again, but John pulled himself back and out of the way, two steps from the hitching post. “Boy, you’re not goin’ anywhere-”

“I’m leaving!” John burst out, taking Arthur by surprise. This wasn’t just another hissy fit or tantrum where he would eventually let it stew over. He was really gonna do it. “The kid ain’t mine, I counted back. She’s just try’na tie me down, Arthur... I feel for her, but I ain’t stayin.”

“Need I remind you of the price you’re gonna pay?” 

“She’ll be safe with you. The boy, too. I ain’t leavin’ them in incapable hands.”

“But you’re leaving them,” Arthur reasoned, trying his best to make any last effort to save what could have been, but he knew his found brother would not be changing his mind. His only thought at this point was to beg him to stay. If only because he asked. “Don’t do this. They need you, we need you.”

“You don’t need me, Arthur. You’re the better one, always were…” 

“C’mon now, you know that ain’t true. S’just another excuse,” he waved his arms around, trying to emphasize just how stupid it sounded. Yes, it’s all Arthur’s fault that John is leaving. 

John doesn’t even answer Arthur, he just turns heel and readies his horse, all while the older of the two stands by and ridicules him for what he’s about to do. All John can do is tune him out, and pretend he doesn’t hear the distant crying at the other edge of camp, where Susan is trying to console a tired and emotionally devastated Abigail. Their son sleeps in Tilly’s arms, oblivious to anything happening around him, but what’s to come will put a damper on his previously bright future. 

By the time John is on his horse, loaded up and ready to head out, Arthur grabs hold of his leg, yanking it back from the stirrup. He looks to his eyes one more time, to see if there’s any guilt, any resolve, anything that might show he knows what he’s doing is wrong… but he only sees annoyance and pride. Two things John Marston usually wore on his face. 

“If you leave this camp, you best never come back again, ya hear?” 

And for the first time that night, Arthur saw just a shred of fear in the younger man’s eyes. 

“I hear,” he nodded, the fear turning into sadness in this last moment. “It just ain’t worth it no more.”

And with that, he turned his horse, and left the camp. 

Arthur went storming through the camp after the interaction, needing to find himself a drink. 

-

You were angry and rightfully so, stomping back into camp like a bear hunting its prey. Walking up to the campfire, there were only a few left awake. Pearson and Hosea sat, hunched over and with half full whiskey bottles in their hands. Probably from the stolen stash, the brand was decent.

“Anyone seen Arthur?” You asked them both, knowing that at least Hosea could tell you. 

“He passed out ages ago,” He nodded towards his covered wagon near the trees and rocks separating your space. “John left camp tonight.”

“I know, I caught him outside the saloon,” you sat down by them, reaching out for either bottle they were willing to hand over. “Gimme some of that, will ya?”

And of course, drinking was the solution at the end of the day. 

After a while, Pearson dragged himself to bed, leaving you and Hosea to sit and stew by the fire, milling about your tumultuous thoughts. You should have known he’d ask for details of your run in with John. 

“I was out scouting today… realized I needed to go to town for a pair of socks, mine got holes too big for sewin’,” you began, gaze trapped on the fire, the alcohol making it harder to focus on anything else at once. “Came outside and found him hitchin’ his horse.”

“You were the one who approached him, then?” 

“I thought about just wavin’, I thought I’d be seein’ him back here… but then I looked at his saddle. He was packed up for the trek of a million miles,” you sighed, taking another big swig of the pricey whiskey in your hand. You would finish the bottle in no time if you kept up like this, trying to quench your raging thirst for something strong and potent.

“What did you say to him?” 

“Nothing really, not at first. Just asked how the day had been, how Abigail was. I haven’t been here since this morning. I guess they started fighting real bad after I left. Dutch tore into him, too,” you spoke heavily, suddenly the swigs you were slamming back were making you a bit less understandable. Hosea though, was easily able to listen, because after years of Arthur’s drunk slurring, and having to make out sentences between, he was practically an expert. “All I said was that he shouldn’t leave, because he’ll regret it.”

“And I suppose that didn’t help.”

“Nah, he just told me where to shove it. I think he’s scared… not of the kid, and not of Abigail. I think he doesn’t wanna end up like his father. Arthur’s told me something about it, but in my opinion, he’s trying to get out before the resentment turns to abuse n’ all that.”

“I reckon you're right. We all told him time and again he’d be a good father, but he’s stubborn as they come, and when his mind’s made up… there’s no stopping that boy.” Hosea shook his head once more, his sadness reflecting in the light of the fire. 

“I guess Arthur’s gonna marry Abigail, now…” you knew you were just trailing into your thoughts, and that while getting more drunk, you shouldn’t be saying them out loud… but you couldn’t help it. Selfishly, on your ride back to camp, this is all you thought about. 

“He offered, it’s up to Abigail to accept,” he said gently, raising his brows in thought as well. He doesn’t see it as a good match, but he thinks it’s honorable that Arthur would do such a thing. 

“I hope she doesn’t,” you murmured quietly, but it seems he still heard you. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing, m’just gettin’ drunk.”

He chuckled under his breath, his side eye remaining on your features just a while longer before he stood up, patting you on the shoulder. 

“Don’t drink too much more. You’ll pass out before making the trip to your tent.”

And then he left you alone. With your thoughts and a bottle of whiskey in hand, who knows what more you could do in a situation like this. It was better to cut your losses and just turn in… so you did. 

Laying down on your cot, you expected sleep to take you. It should have, given how tired you were, but the single notion kept echoing in your head over and over…

Arthur Morgan isn’t mine, and he never was.

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