#really thought none of these were going to be done | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

siri-ike · 3 days ago

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(Warning: this meanders, prepare for a long read)

Some dark rituals can be done with any moonlight, and slightly more complex ones require a full moon. With that small difference, they go from being available every night to one night a month. There are of corse rarer moons, such as the super moon, which only occurs once every four months.

This one is the opposite. It requires as little moonlight as possible. This is why this can only be done tonight. The night of the micro new moon. A new moon as far from the earth as possible.

When the spirits are too weak to fight back.

You'd think on such a clear day you'd see some stars for once. But nooOOoOoo.

It was a dark and dreary night in Gotham just like all the others. The Riddler was teasing the newest detective, Penguin was throwing a fit over something or other, Poison Ivy was hitting on her therapist, and inside the Gotham clock tower Clayface stood frozen through and waiting to be picked up by police.

Dick thought this would be cooler. He'd been Robin for SIX WHOLE DAYS, and barely anything had happened. Anything he'd gotten to help with anyway. He's nine years old. He can take care of himself. Bru- Batman really needs to learn that.

So when he'd heard rumors at school about suspicious activity in one of gothams hundreds of "supposedly abandoned buildings/mansions," He had to check it out. And he would do it on his own.

Or he was gonna. Not to name any names, but Dick seems to have very loose lips.

That's how it became just him, some kids from school, a boy from a Gala, a boy he met at a police station and a girl from right outside the house, seemingly also planing to break in. But aside from that, it was a covert mission.

Thankfully, none of them questioned or even seemed to care that he brought a utility belt. In fact, they were surprisingly well armed. Wallace brought a toolbelt. Garfield showed up in a skintight outfit with steel plate shoes and gloves (what does he expect to happen?). Nadia had knives hidden all over her body, a garrote wire, sharp metal fingernails, and some kind of powder (what does she expect to happen?!). His classmates all chickened out, so really, he got the best outcome he could have asked for.

Getting in was just a matter of hopping a wire fence. Everyone was able to pull that off except Wallace, who had to cut his way in. While they waited, Garfield was somehow able to sneak in and unlock a door.

Inside was no one. As expected for just a rumor. For some reason, it felt like the floor boards didn't creak when Garfield or Nadia stepped on them, but Dick and Wallace made them wanna alert the media. They searched every room from the ground floor to the attic, but all they found were a closet full of identical purple robes, a collection of jars with animal fetuses in them, a chest full of severed fingers arranged in order of least decomposed to most decomposed, and wax statues that looked oddly similar to Dicks three classmates who bailed on them. Eventually, they had to admit defeat and go home.

But just as they were about to exit through the front door, Nadia begged them to take a closer look. It was just as well. They needed to find Garfeild anyway, seeing as he'd disappeared at some point.

Gar looked quizzically at the device Dick (Richard, 9, Caucasian, Male) had handed him.

"These will let us communicate if we get separated." He said as he pocketed the three extras.

Once they got to the fence, Gar heard a noise coming from further behind the manor and walked off to investigate. It turned out to be girl, 12, black, introduced herself as Nadia. She was intent on breaking in as well. She was well prepared and seemed to know what she was doing. But for some reason, Wally (Wallace, 11, Caucasian, male) was adamant about not letting a girl in on a dangerous mission. While he struggled to cut through the fence, everyone else had jumped so easily, Gar went ahead and snuck in.

No one ever locks the third floor windows. He quickly checked the most obvious places for signs of habitation, the kitchen hasn't been used in at least a month, but the living room barely had any dust in it compared to everywhere else, exept for the bedroom he'd entered through. There were fresh rope marks on the bed post, and the sheets were messy. Someone had been tied up there.

When he opened the door, he saw Dick kneeling in front of him, clearly about to pick the lock. He'd apparently also given Nadia one of the spare communicators.

The others all went to search the house, but Gar had all the information he needed. There had to be a basement, even if there's no obvious entrance. Everyone split up, and he went straight underground.

It was easy, worm through the floor boards, mole down till he met solid stone, after that he could just crawl around as a centipede until he found a crack. Nothing to it, really. Too bad, he had to leave his shoes and gloves behind.

He ended up in a wine cellar full of bodies. Most were just skeletons, but some could still be ID'd if they told the police. To his right was a spiral staircase down, but no apparent way up.

So down he went.

The steps were made of cobblestone and looked much older than the building on top. The occasional bone or severed limb suggested people tried and failed to get up to the closed off room he came from. The further he descended the thicker the air got, Gar was no stranger to the smell of decomposing, but this was worse than Grandma's Bachelorette party.

At the bottom lay an explanation for the foul odor.

The floor was soft but coarse. Almost like dirt, but it was strung together somehow. Night vision really wasn't helping. He patted around with his feet, not wanting to get this residue on his hands. He's definitely felt this texture before. But where? If only there was the least bit of light in there.

Wait, what was he doing? There's more senses than just sight.

Gar made a clicking sound with the back of his throat and listened for the reverberations. This room is small. There's piles of stuff in the corners, probably just more bodies. There's a wooden door with metal bars at adult eye level. Squirreling through there, led him to a corridor.

Another click revealed there were more rooms, most had the same wooden door, but one had a thinner wooden door with no bars. On the walls were torches. Gar had nothing to light them with, nor a need to.

Just passing them, Gar learned the other cells smelled like death, too. He snailed through a chip in the bottom of the door. He didn't check if it was locked, but there could have been people on the other side.

Smells better in here. And there was a little bit of light coming from a table. It was a cellphone, plugged into a powerbank. It's at 48%. Someone was here less than an hour ago. Gar took the battery and stuck it into his thigh, leaving the cable out and attached to the phone in his hand. He turned on the flashlight. It looked like a small dining area, like a break room at a renesance fair. There was another door opposite the one he came in. It looked more worn. Another wall had a little kitchen, enough to make a quick meal, definitely a work break room. Opposite that was a ladder through a tunnel. Finally.

"He probably just went home." Wally huffed. He really needs to stop letting strangers drag him into B&Es. "We could always just report the fingers and baby jars."

"They were fetuses," Dick replied. "The term "baby" implies human and already born. What we saw were aborted and, therefore, not illegal to keep."

"Ok. First off. Nerd. Second, the fingers couldn't have been legal. Now, let's go."

"He also lives all the way in New Hampshire. His parents won't pick him up til tomorrow."

The two were startled by a thudd behind them. Nadia had dropped Gars shoes and gloves on the floor in an attention-grabbing way. Fine, so he didn't go home.

"I called his communicator. These things were at the back door." Nadia said flatly.

Oh, right. They all had communicators.

"Do you think someone could have grabbed him?" There was a slight hint of excitement in Dicks tone.

"If I were kidnapping someone, I wouldn't take the time to remove their shoes and gloves. I think he took them off for some reason and disappeared afterward. Now, there are few reasons why someone would take their shoes off in this sort of environment." She picked up one shoe. "My guess would be water. He could have found a basement or something and realized that it was flooded, so, to get a closer look, he removed his unnecessary, heavy gear." Nadia theorized. "I didn't find any doors leading to a basement, so, if it exists, the entrance must be very well hidden."

"It could be outside." Dick added. "Let's search the grounds."

She should probably have been scared, but Álaug hadn't felt much of anything the past cupple days. Couldn't this stupid cult just hurry up and do whatever they were planning to do already?

Every muscle in her body felt heavier than usual. She could barely lift herself up off the dirty gauze covered floor. She rubbed her eyes, but the "tired" was firmly in there. Around her was a blurry room, with four blurry walls and one blurry door. Outside, she could make out faint footsteps. Inside sat a blurry girl, who used the wall to pull herself up and - no? Nevermind. There lay a girl falling back asleep on the floor.

Nadia snapped back to herself. It's her, Álaug is OK. Sort of. But she has to be near by atleast. Nadia looks around herself. The place she saw was all stone. It couldn't have been in this mansion. It was dark, too. Chances were, it was too deep for moonlight. Nadia quickly grabbed the shoes and gloves from the floor. She showed them to the others along with some lie to lead them underground.

Unfortunately, the smaller one seemed to think it could only be outside, completely disregarding the possibility of a hatch under a rug or a door behind a bookcase, and the redhead refused to listen to her. Thankfully, there was a storm cellar for them to investigate while she went back inside to search properly. Think. When they got here, before they started touching things. The living room was the only place that looked like it had been used. She turned it upside down. She moved the couch and coffee table just to check under the rug. She emptied every shelf, drawer, and cabinet to no avail. She tapped on the floor and walls until she got to the wood panels on the side of the stairs. She pushed it in, and a short door popped out. At last. She did it. And this time she was going to make it in time.

Inside was a long dark tunnel down. "It's in the living room." She announced into the communicator, which reverberated from the second one she had. Oh, well. They either heard or they didn't. The green one was the only one who had proved to be more than dead weight so far anyway. Not that she needed any of them. She only needed Álaug.

An estimated 84 trillion miles into the tunnel, Nadia finally admitted she might have needed a flashlight, too. But she's not giving up just because it's dark. After a 15-minute decent, she heard a click. It was quiet and far away, but it sounded alive. Man or Beast? Would either be a good thing?

She's gone! Seriously? He only had three people with him, and two of them were already missing! Dick pulled out his communicator to track her location. It looked like she was... 0.497 miles away. How did she get half a mile away? The dot still reads on the property. Right below them, in fact.

Was this too much? Was he in over his head? Should he call Batman?

Well, no one knows about Nadia, and Gar had specifically mentioned his parents would not notice him missing for at least 3 weeks. So it's not like he can get in trouble if they keep going alone.

After a while, it started raining, and the boys were forced to move the search back inside. Where they found the living room wrecked and a door where there previously wasn't one.

Dick pulled a flashlight out of his utility belt and took one step inside before he was pulled back.

"What are you doing?" Wally demanded. "This room is visible from the outside. If you call the police this is plausible cause, and they can investigate."

"But then we don't get to investigate."

The argument went on embarrassingly long. If Nadia was in there, she had a major head start.

The corridor was long and winding. Wally refused to come with, insisting he would go get the police. Jokes on him. They're in Gotham, police aren't gonna help.

"It's happening! Get ready!" The lead cloked figure shouts.

In front of him is a somewhat conscious 11 year old girl in a nightgown tied to a shrine and surrounded by strange symbols written in her own semi-irredecent blood.

"Aghh!!"

"Gar?"

"Nadia?"

"Where have you been?"

"Creepy dungeon. I found a cellphone. Could have something on it." He offered her the device.

"Oh, I left the nerd upstairs. They were slowing me down." She pulled both communicators out of her pocket and held one to her mouth. "I found Gar. We're in the basement." She looked at him again. "Are you going up or coming with me?"

"With you. I found an important looking door you might wanna see."

"We're headed further in." She said to the communicator.

"Wait for me, I'm on my way."

"We'll see you at the bottom." She was not about to wait 15 minutes in a cramped stairwell. "How far down is it?"

"I don't know, I'm pretty bad with time."

The chanting was almost soothing. In a way, it reminded Álaug of the pit. The thorny vines around her arms and legs loosened, and her mind faded further. They tore at her "flesh" as they slithered away from her. Soon, there was nothing holding her together.

The lights went out, and the chanting abruptly stopped.

The podium beneath her glowed a supernatural shade of green. And all around her floated gears, pendulums, and clock hands.

In the middle of the show appeared a toddler? No, an old man. Floating above the crowd. He spun around to face her. His expression turned sour. He pointed his staff at her, and in an instant, her chains were gone, and she fell to the ground.

Something must have happened while she was writhing on the floor because before she knew it, she was holding a baby.

This time, upon reaching the medieval break room, the lights were on. Electric ones! The candles on the walls were fake. The suspicious door was open, too.

"Do you hear that?" Gar asked.

"No?"

"Sounds like chanting."

Urgency washed over Nadias face. She pulled out her communicator again.

"Dick, we can't wait. Rituals already started."

"Hey, no. Wait for me. I'm almost there." His voice was obscured by the sound of running. "What ritual?"

She stepped out the door but was met with two possible directions. "Which way is the chanting? We need to hurry."

Gar ran directly towards the sound.

"But they could be in danger."

"Look, kid. We can't just send a SWAT team to go investigate a child's rumor."

"Can you do anything?"

"I could arrest you for breaking and entering."

"Well, there are three more people currently breaking and entering there. Can you go for that? Or do you only work on crimes that have already happened?"

"Listen here, you little-"

"Forget it! Actual gang members are more helpful than this!" Wally stormed out of the police station with tears in his eyes. Gotham is very different from Central City.

🎶Tick tock, goes the clock🎶

🎵And all the years they fly🎵

🎶Tick tock, goes the clock🎶

🎵Till you and I must die🎵

Danny's soft face looked so at home in Clockwork arms. His big round cheeks, so full of sweetness. His wide eyes full of wonder and curiosity. When they were open. For now, Clockworks' greatest treasure soundly slept and tightly held onto one of his fingers.

Clockwork could lose himself for hours staring, and he usually did. But this time, his baby bonding time was cut off by a summon. He found himself in a dark room, lit only by his own clock works. In his arms was nothing. He searched for any ghostly presence but felt only a dim charge from behind him.

On a podium surounded by ghost runes and old time pieces was a girl, a ghost? No, she's odd in some way. It didn't matter. She was tied up. Clockwork aimed his staff her way and aged the chains until they were nothing but dust.

"Great God of time!" A mere human addressed. "I have summoned you here for one purpose. Bring back my wife. In exchange, we will return to you the goddess of the moon." She bargained, gesturing toward the girl.

Clockwork prided himself on being a patient observer, an impartial judge. Today was not a proud day for him.

The two of them followed the chant until-

"It stopped."

"Keep going. Maybe we're close."

Dick could only follow the dots on his communicator since they were no longer answering him. 0.28 miles. That's not so bad. And for some reason, they weren't moving.

When Dick finally reached them, they were frozen in place, bathed in a ghostly glow, with matching horrified looks. They seemed so fearless before, so why now? Curiosity compelled him to look, but Dicks better judgment won. He reached in and pulled his allies out of the light, and it was like they shocked back into their bodies.

"What was in there?"

They didn't have time to answer. Instead, a huge burst of energy floded out of the room. They narrowly avoided it by staying in the shadows.

The light slowly dissipated over the next two minutes. Leaving a faint glow in its wake.

Once they deemed it safe, all three carefully made their way into a grand hall. Row after row of skeletons all wore the same robes from upstairs, and faced a big extravagant steam punk looking shrine. The glow was coming from there. A mix of blueish green and a dark red. All drowned out by the cries of a baby.

Nadia was the first to run over to the shrine. Dick was more careful, and Gar just seemed unsettled.

This dust is people. He's walking on dusted people. They were alive and chanting less than an hour ago, and now they're dust. And now they're breathing them. Tonight has officially moved up to top ten worst days. It's somewhere below his parents' death but above English jewel theif double homicide.

"Come on." Dick tugged at his elbow.

They went up to the shrine, where they saw Nadia holding another girl. They looked like complete opposites. Nadia was tall, black, curly haired, and had a general "has hidden knives regardless of the situation" vibe to her. The other girl was pale and short. Her hair was straight as a wooden plank, and her vibe was "spooky roses" and "needs hospital."

Near them was a glowing baby lying on the floor, fussing. Its white hair looked slightly greenish thanks to the halo surrounding the infant. Gar felt compelled to pick it up and take a few steps away. Upon doing so, the baby settled. As though something in the shrine made it uncomfortable.

"Can we get out of here?" Gar piped up.

"Of course." Nadia picked the other girl up like she weighed nothing more than a corgi.

Gar couldn't help but be more careful on the way back. Not that Dick was complaining. He was tired of being left behind. At least they did rescue the girl. Some girl. That's heroic. And he totally did something, right?

"Hey, Gar? If my dad asks, I was a great leader, ok?"

"Okay." Gar was not paying attention. It was like he was hypnotized by that baby.

"Aren't you getting tired? We can switch."

Gar looked Dick up and down. He was already struggling with the long winding stairs. There's no way he could handle a baby on top of not having sonar.

"I don't think so."

Dick was in front so he stepped into the living room first, followed by Gar and his glowing baby, followed by... uhm... where are the girls?

Along with the sunrise, the boys were met with Wally. Hiding behind The Flash. Who in turn was standing next to Batman.

Dick's gonna be in so much trouble.

Why would Clockwork de-age Danny and then just leave him in Gotham for Batman to steal? No, he'd raise that boy himself. Fuck letting others get their grubby mitts on his new son. He wants to make sure he doesn't turn evil like Dan and this is the only way he knows it will work 100%.

That is until someone summons the ancient of time and gets a baby because the portal was a little to the left.

Now Clockwork is sending ghosts to go retrieve the boy since he can't leave the realms.

#what do you mean animal fetus jars arent normal. its pretty normal for a mansion in gotham #wally dosnt have powers yet. but he does have sexism straight out of the comics #and just like the comics gar has had his powers since he was 4. exept in this version hes been with the doom patrol for longer #you better like this. i had to learn miles for this.#sure hope i remember to link nadia and álaugs origin

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traveler-at-heart · 16 hours ago

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Doctor's In - Part 16

Summary: Your Westview fam reunites with you and Boston as you prepare to leave the city.

A/N: I believe this is what @jerullium and I would call a filler episode but hey! Enjoy if you like Wanda fluff

You know what the call is about.

“Hello?” you practically sing, your eyes on the road.

“Stop that” Wanda warns you.

“Stop what?”

“Changing the music. You know I don’t like that girl!”

“Babe, Chappell is great” you play dumb.

“I’m the only redhead you can love”

“Yes, darling. Have you asked the kids yet?”

“Just about to. I’m picking them up before my mother steals my car and crashes against a police car. Again”

You want to laugh at how annoyed Wanda sounds. Honestly, you’re dying to meet her mother.

“Let me know if they agree to come so I can get your tickets”

“I can do that…”

“You’re all flying first class, and that’s final. Gotta go. Love ya”

“Me too… you’re playing her music again!” she says and you hang up, laughing.

“You guys are adorable” Val says, sitting next to you in the car.

“Yelena likes to call it ridiculously corny”

“So, not that this is any of my business… but why are you looking to work abroad if you are in a relationship with Wanda? I don’t think she’d be willing to move, right?”

“Well… that’s why I was curious about that summer program you mentioned with an NGO”

Valkyrie knew enough people and organizations to find something that wouldn’t mean moving to a different country indefinitely.

And as it turned out, you had a few common friends, including none other than Sharon Carter.

She was a couple years ahead of you in college, but you’d always gotten along. Thanks to Val, you knew she was ready to move back home -her whole family was in Boston- and you were hoping she could take an interest in working for Romanoff Medical Center.

After everything Melina had done for you (even if it was out of self interest to provide Yelena with a mentor), you didn’t feel comfortable just leaving without a thought after your contract was up.

As you go meet Sharon at the restaurant, your mind drifts to Billy and Tommy. Would they be excited at the prospect of seeing you? Wanda had only mentioned they went through a rough patch, but you were always too afraid to ask the details.

The sight of Sharon waving at you brings you back to reality.

“Carter girl” you greet like you did in college, hugging her.

“Look at you, all grown up”

“Look at you, working for WHO”

“It’s nothing, really” she shrugs it off, greeting Val as well.

There’s some talk about work, just chit chat while the waiter was hanging around waiting to take your order. Once he’s done and you have some space to talk more freely, Sharon turns to you, a smirk on her face.

“You still a player?”

That makes you choke on your drink, while Val whistles.

“What? Here I was thinking this one was a family gal”

“Wait, hold up. That’s insane. In college, she used to charm every girl. Not even the ones with boyfriends were safe” Sharon says, making you blush.

“I don’t seem to recall…”

“Jean Grey.”

“Ok, got it. No need to go further into detail” you interrupt her, suddenly remembering that yeah, you had been a bit of a player in college. “Now I’m with someone who has two kids, so I’m looking to return to Westview”

“Romanoff Medical is going to need a great Head of Trauma” Val chimes in.

“The pay is spectacular”

“Mhm. Heard Melina can be hard to deal with” Sharon says and you sigh.

“Honestly? Not as much. Not if you do your job and you’re good at it. Like me” you wink at her.

“Well, I’d be looking to start in a month or so, because I really wanna get some rest and be with my family”

“Timing couldn’t be better… except I need someone to cover for me this weekend. Do you mind?”

“That’s going to cost you a mimosa”

“Done” you say, waving at the waiter.

—

Wanda is stalling.

Things were getting better between her and the kids. There was no arguing, even if Billy had decided to quit the soccer team.

She knew they still missed you, but they were starting to heal. And your relationship was going well, but Wanda was afraid of so many things.

Of screwing it up again. Hurting the kids.

Getting hurt.

Though you’d never ever do it, she trusted you completely.

She’s still thinking about how to bring up the trip to the kids when she gets a text from you.

Y/N: Hey, it’s been a couple of hours. If you’re not ready or think it’s not the best idea to bring the kids, I get it. They always come first. Just know that I love you no matter what :)

Wanda smiles at that.

She decides to leave her study and go to the twins’ room, where they’re doing some homework.

“Hey, do you guys have a minute?” she sits in Billy’s bed, and Tommy joins them. “So, I know we haven’t spoken about Y/N. She’s been living and working in Boston”

“That’s where you’ve been traveling to” Tommy says, looking up.

“Right. And we ran into each other… started talking. She mentioned you could join me on my next trip and we’d all go around the city together. There are some cool stuff to do and see”

“Seriously? That would be awesome! Yes, I want to come with you!” Tommy says, excited. Wanda’s about to ask Billy when he jumps out of bed, running to lock himself in the bathroom.

“Wait here, sweetheart” she asks Tommy. “Billy? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna go”

“Why? Are you angry at Y/N?”

“No”

“Then me?”

“No” he says, this time with less conviction.

“Then what is it?”

“You’re only making us go so you both can give us the talk” he says through the door, and Wanda decides to open it.

“What talk?” she sits on the floor next to her son, running her hands through his hair.

“The same talk Emily’s parents had with her when they were getting a divorce. About how it wasn’t her fault and they’d always love her even if they weren’t together”

“No, that’s not it at all, Billy”

“She just wants to say goodbye to us”

“I promise you that’s not it. We’re both trying hard to fix everything, my sweet boy. Have our family back” Billy turns around to wipe his face, and Wanda sighs. “Would it make you feel better if Y/N told you herself?”

That makes the boy turn.

Wanda takes out her phone, dialing your number and hoping you’re not too busy with work.

“Hey, beautiful. Got any news for me? Will I get to see my boys?”

“Y/N!” Billy jumps up, leaning his head against Wanda’s to hear you better.

“Billy? Hey kiddo. How are you? I’ve missed you so damn much”

He’s so excited he doesn’t even notice the curse word that leaves your mouth.

“I missed you too! Do you like Boston?”

“It’s alright. Would be a lot more fun if you guys came over to visit me. What do you say?”

“We’ll do some fun stuff?”

“And eat ice cream”

“This isn’t to say goodbye?”

“Goodbye? I have my ticket to Westview in a couple of weeks, Billy. You’re not getting rid of me”

“Ok, yeah! We’ll see you soon!” he says, excited. You laugh.

“Alright then. Now let me speak to your mom”

He hands over the phone, running back to his room.

“We have thirty seconds before Tommy comes running to talk to you”

“Ok, I’ll take it to say I love you and can’t wait to see you all this weekend”

“Will we stay at the penthouse?”

“I’m not sure it’s very child friendly so let’s get a suite at a nice hotel” you say, knowing the place was full of expensive things that could easily break with two kids running around.

Like clockwork, Tommy shows up, kneeling next to his mother.

“Y/N! Can we go to a Red Sox game?”

“I’ll see what I can do, buddy” you say. He keeps talking, asking questions about the city.

Billy joins in a second later, and this is the first time in months that Wanda’s seen them so happy and excited.

She can’t wait to have her entire family back together.

��

Rumor has it, Fury has found a replacement. He only schedules interviews when Darcy’s away and he asks goody two shoes Kamala Kahn to deliver all the CVs he needs to read.

She’d never move to the dark side, unfortunately.

Darcy is running out of ideas to keep the job open.

There’s one, though.

“Fuck it” she decides, walking to Fury’s office and ignoring his secretary when she says he’s busy.

He obviously isn’t, signing papers.

“Yes, Doctor Lewis?”

“I’d like to be considered”

“Considered for…” he says without look up.

“The position of Head of Trauma”

Now, that makes Fury pay attention. He smiles, removing his glases.

“I thought you wanted Y/N to come back to her old job”

“Well, she’s taking her sweet time and I don’t want anyone else running the ER. So, I’m your girl”.

“I still have to interview you” he says, pulling out Darcy’s file and reading it. “Darcy N. Lewis. What does the N stand for?”

“None of your business” Darcy snaps, forgetting she’s talking to her boss until Fury levels her with a glare. “Nora”

“Alright. Let’s start, shall we?”

—

Melina’s reviewing schedules when she hears a knock on the door.

“Ah, just who I wanted to see” she says when you walk inside.

“Have I done something?”

“Well, we have a pending discussion about your time with us, don’t we?” the woman says, and you appreciate how she goes straight to business.

“I am leaving after the three months we agreed on” you admit, sitting down in front of her.

“I assumed as much, seeing your girlfriend around these past few weeks”

“I’m sorry, I know you wanted it to not work out” you tease, and Melina huffs, offended.

“I’m not some kind of monster! If you’re happy, I am glad to hear it. I just know it’s gonna be incredibly difficult to find someone who can…”

You interrupt her rant by pushing Sharon’s CV in front of her. She skims through it, raising her eyebrows.

“She worked for the World Health Organization?”

“Mhm. Top of her class, outstanding in every way. She also brings a large network and a lot of prestige”

Needless to say, those are things Melina loves. You’re sure she’d be willing to throw another gala just to show off Sharon.

“We’d have to do a trial, show her around…”

“Already arranged it” you say, smiling. Melina keeps reading the file and you know she doesn’t need any more convincing, so you take your cue to leave. But there’s something more you wanna say, as you stand by the door. “Hey. Thank you for taking me in. You gave me a place to stay and a job when I was completely broken. I can’t imagine what I would have done without your help”

“Just make sure… she’s worth it all. That she values you as much as you do her, Y/N. This is your career, and a big sacrifice at that” the brunette says, her tone softer.

“You’re right. Thank you” you leave with a smile.

—

It feels like everyone decided to fly today. The airport is crowded, you can barely find room to walk and you know Wanda must be struggling with her bag and the two kids who are running around everywhere.

“God damn it” you sigh, hoping they’re managing through the sea of people.

You hear them before seeing them.

“Y/N!” Tommy screams. You don’t realise where he’s coming from until he crashes against your back, jumping as he hugs you.

“Hey, kiddo!” you try to turn around, only to see Billy sprinting at full speed. “Oh, oh”

He gives the final push that knocks you down, and you shriek as they climb on top of you.

“Boys! Honestly, what has gotten into you?” Wanda comes to the rescue a second later. “You ok?”

“Come here, you two” you sit up, hugging them. “Missed you like crazy”

“And what about me?” Wanda pouts. You laugh, standing up and kissing her.

“Of course I missed you too, beautiful”

Right on cue, they both groan and complain as Wanda kisses you back.

“I didn’t miss that” Tommy sasses you and you glare.

“In that case…” you grab Wanda by the waist, pulling her against you and peppering kisses all over her face.

“Baby” she laughs, and you silence her a second later with your lips.

“Blegh” they both say, grabbing their backpacks.

“Are they teens now?” you mumble against Wanda’s ear.

“No, teenage years will be much worse than this. Are you still up for it?”

“In it for the long run, baby”

Wanda has to go straight to a work meeting, but you stop by a second to greet Wendy, and make sure she gets a chance to meet the twins.

“I’ve heard so much about you!” the woman says.

“Tell Wendy what was your favorite story of hers growing up”

“Uh, the one where the kids go to space” Billy says shyly.

“And they take their dog! We have a dog too and we’d take him to space with us” Tommy agrees.

“Alright, astroboys, let them work. We’re going to a baseball game”

“Oh, no! I’m sad I’ll miss it. Have fun” Wanda lies.

You knew she’d be bored out of her mind so you decided it was as good a time as any to take them to the game.

“Yeah, those are so much fun” you say, knowing baseball is incredibly boring for you too. As Wanda says goodbye you pull her close and whisper in her ear. “I’m taking one for the team so be prepared to thank me later, babe”

“Stop” she tries not to laugh, knowing exactly what you mean. “And don’t eat a lot of junk food”

“You heard your mom”

“I wasn’t talking only to the kids”

“Rude”

As you expected, you still have no clue what’s going on but the kids enjoy eating nachos and watching men running around after a ball.

“Wow, Camarena is about to bat!”

“Oh, I met that guy in New York” you say, remembering how Zach was so excited about that player.

You really need to plan something in the summer for him to meet the twins.

As Camarena prepares to bat, you decide to FaceTime Zach.

“Where are yooou?” he says, annoyingly close to the screen. “Without me? Traitor”

“Who’s that?” Tommy says, looking away from the game for a split second.

“My brother”

“Hi, I’m uncle Zach”

“You can’t be our uncle. You’re too young” Billy huffs.

You’re about to tell them to settle when you hear the familiar sound of people cheering and shouting.

“Ah, shit. Not again”

Another ball falls right on your hand.

Tommy takes your phone, lifting it in the air and dancing with his brother as the camera pans to you.

Honestly, why are people so happy over catching a freakin ball?

Pretty soon you hope there’s another coming your way and knocks you down, because Zach is arguing over the phone with the boys.

“We should totally keep it!”

“Are you insane? If he asks for it you can get a picture with him and get him to sign stuff, that’s worth more!”

“It wouldn’t be the same”

Anyway, as the game ends you get called just like last time.

“You again?” the team manager recognises you and you shrug your shoulders.

“Hey, I’m just as surprised as you”

“Alright, how about a picture and a signed bat in exchange for the ball?”

You shake your head no and point at the kids.

“You’re asking the wrong person, pal. Negotiate with these two”

Why are you even surprised when they get all demanding? They are Wanda’s kids after all.

In the end, they get one picture each, two signed baseball balls, one of his hats and a glove.

“Come on, your mom’s waiting for us at the hotel. You two need to shower so we can grab some food”

“No shower when we’re on vacation!” they chant as you drive back.

“Nu-uh, you’re both stinky. Plus you hugged that stinky man”

“Can we have burgers and milkshakes?”

“You had nachos and popcorn and soda. Oh, by the way” you turn to look at them at the red light. “If your mother asks you didn’t eat all that. Just some popcorn”

“We can agree if we don’t have to shower”

“Shower and I’ll take you to the F1 arcade”

Billy and Tommy whisper in the back of the car, considering your proposal.

“Deal”

“Fist bump” you say, throwing one hand to the back seat so they can seal the deal.

You definitely missed acting like a kid with them.

—

Wanda was right. You’d never say it out loud because you don’t want her to get all cocky.

But the kids have been hyper ever since they arrived and you’re a little out of practice with taking care of them.

It’s day two and you’re hoping the museum can provide some distraction while you chill with Wanda.

“You ok, detka? Seems like you ran a marathon” Wanda comments with a smirk.

“I’m super fine. Just ate a lot for breakfast” you lie, but still keep her close to your side, hoping you can sit down and watch the kids run around.

And for a little while, everything’s going well. Until you stumble upon an exhibition.

“Hall of Human Life” you read out loud.

It’s like Disneyland for doctors.

“That’s so cool!” you say, watching the model of an artery with high blood pressure. Tommy and Billy pick up on your enthusiasm, following you everywhere and asking questions as they go through every station of the exhibit.

Apparently, there’s a little contest at the end and you join a group of children sitting on the floor.

“Alright” the staff woman says, looking around. “Who can tell me how many bones are in the human body?”

“206!” you shout from the back, making every kid turn to look at you.

“Correct… uh, let’s just raise our hands to answer” the woman asks, thrown off by the sight of an adult in a children’s activity. “Does anyone remember three parts of the eye? Anyone?”

You’re the only one raising your hand, and the woman gives up with a sigh.

“Sclera, iris and retina”

It keeps happening with a couple of questions and Wanda is torn between letting you crash the activity or ask you to join her in the back.

As you get ready to argue with a 12 year old over an incorrect answer, Wanda decides you better get going.

“Come here, baby”

“Ok, what you said is incorrect. 1 in 500 people have a cervical rib” you keep arguing with the kid while Wanda drags you away.

“Here” she pushes you to the back of an exhibit.

“Hey, I was just…”

“We should let the kids enjoy themselves for a bit, don’t you think?” she asks and you’re about to argue when her lips are on yours.

“Yeah, that’s alright I guess” you sigh, a shiver running down your spine when Wanda bites your bottom lip.

“So, wanna discuss anatomy with a kid or show me what you know in this little corner?”

“I’m definitely staying here” you say, making out like teenagers.

You only notice the activity is over when the kids come looking for you.

“Gross” Tommy says.

“Hey, keep that up and we’ll go through the baby section again”

“Nooo” they both run away, traumatized by the drawings.

“How I missed babysitting the three of you” Wanda laughs.

You walk down the rest of the museum, commenting on your favorite thing in each area. As you discuss if they want to go to the aquarium after having some food, Wanda decides to get some souvenirs from the gift shop, Tommy tagging along in hopes of getting a t-shirt.

“You don’t want a t-shirt, beautiful boy?” you ask Billy, and he smiles when you call him that. It’s his favorite thing, from that John Lennon song.

“I don’t want you to be alone”

“I’ll be fine. Go with Mom, help her shop for something for Pietro and Grandma”

“It’s ok” he insists. You hug him and he leans on your side.

“How have you been? Heard you’re not really into soccer these days”

“No, I only went because Tommy liked it. But it’s not my favorite thing. Plus Daniel was being kind of mean” he mutters.

“Isn’t he Dick’s… I mean, Richard’s kid?” you stumble over the nickname.

“Yeah. He was saying that it wasn’t right that mom was with you and that was why I was weird too”

You take a deep breath, turning to look at him.

“You know that’s not right”

“Yeah. Tommy kicked his ass for that. Don’t tell mom I said a bad word” he remembers and his expression makes you forget the anger for a second.

“My lips are sealed”

In that precise moment, Wanda and Tommy come back. Tommy has some dinosaur stuff that he bought for his brother and they’re busy checking everything out.

“Wow, what’s going on?” Wanda says when you pull her aside.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper, shaking with anger.

“Tell you what? Y/N, calm down”

“I’m going to kill him”

“Kill who?”

“Dick, Richard, whatever his name is. He hurt Billy and I’m going to…”

“I already dealt with it, please calm down” Wanda asks.

“Unless you ran him over with your car, it’s not enough”

“I did threaten him with that” she says, which makes you laugh. “I’m serious. I did tell him I’d do it”

Wanda puts her hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at her.

“Are you better now?”

“Yeah. You should have told…”

“I wanted to but you weren’t there. So I had to deal with it the best I could” she says and you hang your head in defeat.

You hope one day the guilt of leaving like a coward can disappear.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I pushed you away, remember? Let’s just get something to eat. Ok?”

“Ok” you kiss the back of her hand, sighing.

“Look what we got you!” Tommy interrupts, unaware of the tension between you and her mom.

He shows you a plastic dinosaur with a cowboy hat and you scream.

“Coolest thing ever!”

“Three kids” Wanda laughs, walking away as you alternate between rawr and yeehaw sounds, holding the dinosaur up in the air.

—

The kids wouldn’t get on the plane until you showed them your ticket to Westview. Even then, they complained that two weeks was a long wait.

But still, they got on the plane and you were seeing Wanda next Thursday, as it was her final meeting with Wendy’s team.

“Love you two”

“Love you three” they answered and how you missed hearing those words from them.

Everything is still the same when you go back to work. But the kids visit has made you look at things differently.

You don’t feel so alone, and you’re more optimistic about the future. Even Lorne has noticed and is taking full advantage of your mood.

Yelena’s the one with the attitude as soon as you come back.

“Anything interesting happened this weekend?”

“Ask your friend” she says without looking up from her notes.

“What did you think of Sharon?”

“She’s fine. Whatever”

“Fine as in attractive or fine as in capable? I hope it’s the latter because Bishop won’t be happy about the other one…”

“Can you stop being so fucking annoying for a second?” she snaps, standing up to leave.

It’s like that the entire day. You ask her to do something and she complains, speaks through her teeth or simply refuses to acknowledge you.

The only thing you can think to do of is bitch about it to Natasha.

“Is your sister in her late teenage years or some shit?”

“She’s just pissed because you’re leaving” Natasha doesn’t look up either, well aware of Yelena’s behavior.

“Well, she knew I was leaving after three months! That’s hardly a shock”

“You were the one that said you’d never move to Boston and here you are” she levels you with an icy glare. “You can’t really blame her for hoping you’d stick around longer than three months”

“I guess, but still. It’s nothing personal”

“She gets attached easily. Ask mom how many strays she picked on the street”

“So now I’m a dog?” you say, and Natasha smiles.

“Yeah, like a retriever. You’re always goofy. Plus you catch all those balls like it’s second nature”

“Heard about the other game, huh?”

“I’m not going to assume what Yelena thinks or feels, but you should definitely talk to her” Natasha looks at you. “And for what is worth, you’ve made a good impact on the staff. They’re gonna miss you too”

“Are you?” you say when she stands up to leave.

“Nope. I’m taking your parking spot”

“Hey!”

She looks back and smiles. You return the gesture, knowing what she’s trying to say.

“It’s a nice parking spot” you admit. “Closer to the cafeteria”

“Exactly. See you later”

“Thanks. For helping me out with Yelena. And for wanting to be my friend even though I can be an ass” you say.

“You’re a nice ass. Wait, that came out wrong” she frowns and you laugh.

“I got the point”

Natasha smiles and nods your way one last time. And as far as you’re concerned, you’d really want to keep avoiding Yelena, but you better go and find her.

She’s in an on call room, and all but groans when you walk inside.

“I’m leaving in two weeks. Believe or not, it’s not easy for me to make this choice, Yelena. I know staying would be better for my career. Your mom is paying me shitloads of money. And the city has its charm, I’m not gonna lie”

“Ok, is there a point or…?”

“I’m coming back to Westview because… I found the one thing I never thought I’d have. A family that loves me. After my dad passed away I didn’t really have a place to call home. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here at all, because it was unfair to create an expectation. But I won’t lie and say I regret it. You’ve grown so much and you have so much talent. I’m really fucking proud of being your teacher”

Yelena looks away, and you sigh.

“Anyways, better get back to…”

“Thank you. Even if it was for a short time, I’m happy you were my teacher” she finally says, wiping a tear and smiling at you.

“Thanks, kid. We are a good team” you sit next to her, nudging her knee with yours. “One could even say we trauma bonded, huh?”

“I hate you”

—

The last thing you want to hear after a very bad shift is Lorne’s voice proposing to play a game.

“I just feel like I never got to know you!” he insists.

“Walking in on me changing clothes wasn’t enough for you? Glad you’re knocking after that, by the way”

To be honest, it was fun to watch him shriek as he saw you half naked. And how he volunteered to take the sexual harrassment course even though it was pretty obvious he didn’t mean to be a peeping tom.

“No, I mean things like, your favorite cake flavor, or favorite color. And are you a balloon girl? Or more of a glitter gal?”

“Neither. I don’t want a farewell party” you say, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

It’s stupid to throw a party to someone who’s been part of the staff for only three months. And from day one, everyone knew you weren’t staying.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he plays dumb and you chuckle, signing forms while you check your watch.

You better get going if you want to pick up Wanda from her meeting.

“Mhm. No parties. Seriously” you hand over the charts, glaring at him.

He nods, but you don’t really believe he’ll give up. If Yelena sides with him, you’ll have to accept your fate.

“Ready to go?” Sharon says, greeting you at the hallway.

She’s been picking up some shifts, to see if she likes the job. Melina made her an offer as soon as she sat down for the interview and you’re convinced the only reason she hasn’t let you leave early is because Yelena would throw a tantrum.

“Yeah, I have to pick up Wanda. How’s everything? You like it here?”

“Very much, everyone’s nice. The facilities are amazing and it’s a very interesting challenge. Don’t tell anyone yet, but I’m accepting the job offer”

“Congratulations. They’re very lucky to have you” you say, smiling.

“Thank you, for recommending me. I’ll let you go now” she says when she gets paged.

By the time you reach the address Wanda sent out, she’s wrapping up the meeting.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt, I’m sorry” you say as you walk in on people chatting around the conference room.

“Not at all, please come in” Wendy says.

“Hello, darling” Wanda greets you with a kiss on the cheek. “We were only talking about tonight. There’s this party with some editors”

“Oh, that sounds nice” you try not to sound disappointed, because you were hoping to spend the evening with Wanda.

“Sorry for the short notice but you’re going to be my plus one” Wanda puts her arm around your waist and you relax against her.

“Can’t say no to my girl”

As you’re saying goodbye, Wendy’s assistant stops by. There’s a wave of excitement as soon as Lily shows off the baby.

“I thought it was a boy” Wanda says, approaching her.

“We did too. Apparently our doctor’s stupid. No offense, Y/N”

“Hey, I just rode in the ambulance. But congrats. What’s her name?”

“Marygold”

“I love that name” Wanda and you say at the same time.

Lily hands over the baby to Wanda, and as she cooes at the little girl, you look over her shoulder, your hand on Wanda’s waist.

“She’s such a cutie”

“You both look good with a baby” Wendy jokes and you smile.

“Babe, they’re conspiring to get us pregnant”

Wanda tries to laugh at your joke, but your closeness is distracting. She wants to focus on Marygold but gives up a moment later, and you intercept the baby before she returns to her mother’s arms.

“You’re gonna have to teach me that move” Lily comments when you sway her gently and lull her back to sleep.

“Natural talent, I’m afraid” you joke.

You’re so focused on the baby that you don’t notice Wanda’s intense gaze on you.

Of course, someone else takes Marygold and you leave with Wanda.

“So, work thing, huh? Sounds fun. Is it more business, casual?”

“Just a small dinner, nothing fancy. And we definitely don’t have to stay for long” she says, looking out the window.

“You ok?” you ask after a few moments of silence, placing your hand on her thigh.

“Yeah” Wanda turns to smile at you.

You miss the way she shivers when you squeeze her thigh, and Wanda’s sure you’re keeping your hand there in an innocent gesture.

But seeing you holding a baby, with your strong arms (that are a lot more buff now) practically made her ovulate on the spot.

She has to be extremely patient, but once you’re in your building and the elevator’s doors close, Wanda corners you, her pupils dilated.

“Wanda?” you say, completely blindsided by the way she has you against the metal walls.

“I want you… fuck. I want you to put a baby in me”

Your attention is split between her words and the fact she’s unbotting her blouse in the middle of the elevator.

“I, technically… biologically, I mean” you stutter as she reveals a black lace bra.

“You’re not even gonna try?” she taunts, undoing your pants and sinking her hand to play with your clit through your underwear.

“Fuck, not what I meant, bunny” you mutter against her temple, while she edges you. “Can you behave until we get there?”

“No” she says against your lips, swallowing your moans.

The doors open into the Penthouse and you’re about to carry Wanda to the bedroom when she pushes you away.

“Why?”

“Give me five minutes to change”

“You don’t need to change, you’re gonna be naked” you whine, taking a look at her cleavage.

“So you don’t wanna see the entire thing? It has stockings. And a thong”

“Can I rip it off of you?”

“No. They were very expensive”

“I’ll reimburse you” you insist. She laughs and you pout, but let her walk to the room, with an extra sway to her hips just to tease you.

You pace around the kitchen, like a caged animal. To be fair, last time Wanda was here you didn’t have a chance to be alone.

That makes you remember the thing you bought and stored inside the safe, just to make sure no one would find it. If Wanda wants to play dirty, you should surprise her as well.

While you adjust the new toy, the bedroom door opens and you practically sprint inside.

“Oh, my”

Wanda’s sitting in bed, her hair down. You take it all in, starting from the heels she’s still wearing, to her beautiful slender legs, the stockings held by a suspender belt.

You kneel at the foot of the bed, and she’s happy to make room for you between her legs.

“No ripping” she warns you as a hand reaches for her thighs.

“I’m not…”

“I’m serious” she says, gripping your chin between her fingers. “Say you understand”

“I understand”

“Good girl”

“You know, you should be the one begging” you say, your hands going up and down her calves while you kiss the exposed skin. “Weren’t saying you wanted me to get you nice and pregnant?”

“It doesn’t hurt to remind you I call the shots”

“Do you, now?” you smile up at her and Wanda holds her breath. She understands a second too late, that you have something of your own to tease her with.

With a chuckle, you push her thong aside and dart your tongue out, tasting her. You both moan and she places her hand in your head, pulling you closer.

You can tell she’s close when you feel her movig her hips against your mouth, so you slow down, until she’s whining.

“I didn’t say you could stop” she says.

“You better watch your tone or I’ll fuck the attitude out of you, baby” you stand up, puling your shirt up. Wanda’s hands go down your abs, which is amusing. Ever since you got back together, it hasn’t been lost on you how she eyes them and tries to get little peaks when your shirt rides up.

“Did you get a new…?” she says when her hand goes lower, feeling the strap on that you’re packing.

“See? I am putting a baby in you” you smile, pushing your thumb past her lips.

Wanda pulls your pants down, and takes the plastic cock between her hands. It takes you by surprise when she spits on it and then smears her saliva all over it. Before you can do anything else, her mouth is on it, and the pressure goes directly to your clit.

“Come on, let me fuck you” you plead, though you’re on the edge.

“Good old missionary?” Wanda pulls you down with her, your lips meeting in a messy kiss.

“God, yes, I want to hear your pretty moans” you say, lining up the toy against her cunt, and you find no resistance as you slide inside.

“Fuck, yes” Wanda moans, holding the back of your neck. You thrust harder when you feel her heels digging on your back, and she’s everywhere. Her scent is invading your nose, you feel her hot breath against your ear and her moans are all you can hear as you keep fucking her, losing control until she practically screams your name.

“Fuck, that was good” she says, as you keep moving your hips, waiting for her breathing to slow down. “I need a minute”

“Ok, I’ll just stay inside and focus on these two” you say, pulling the bra down and sucking on one of her nipples.

Wanda’s protests die down in her throat as you move to the other nipple, readjusting so you’re buried deeper inside.

She pushes you and you’re about to complain when she flips you over, straddling your lap.

“Alright then. Round two”

“Bring it, Maximoff”

—

It’s a miracle you leave the penthouse at all. Between having sex on every surface, eating and sleeping, it’s time to leave for Wanda’s work dinner.

“You look very fuckable, baby” you compliment her mini skirt, knee high boots and long sleeved sweater.

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing all day?”

“I mean, I could picture pulling that skirt up and just fucking you against a wall” you say, laughing when she puts her head against the headrest.

“Lets forget about this work thing and go back to bed, please?”

“That’s not very professional of you”

“I know. But you’re not playing fair”

“It will be worth the wait, I promise”

Wanda gets out of the car as you talk to the valet. She walks inside, saying hello to a few people and picking up a glass of wine. She’s about to greet Wendy when a man gets in her way. It’s one of the assistant editors, though she can’t even remember his name.

“Hey, Wanda. Glad to see you made it”

“Yeah, of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world” she says, though she would absolutely miss it for more hours of hot sex with you.

“I didn’t bring anyone either, so maybe we could be each other’s date?” he jokes, but Wanda doesn’t smile at that.

“Actually, I…” she tries to say but he completely ignores her.

“As a matter of fact, I regret not doing this sooner, but I wanted to ask you out. And I know this is your last trip to Boston but I was hoping we could…”

You walk in that precise moment, smiling at Wanda.

“Hi there, sorry. Had to make sure they knew how to park the Corvette. I’ll have what she’s having” you turn to the man, who shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable.

“Not a waiter. I’m an assistant editor. Working on Wendy’s book. I’m sorry, I didn’t know Wanda was bringing a friend”

“I didn’t know either. Who did you invite, baby?” you play dumb, knowing exactly what was going on.

“No one, my love. This is my girlfriend, Y/N” Wanda leans against you.

“Doctor Y/L/N” you correct her before he can introduce himself. You don’t want to be on a first name basis with this asshole.

“My name’s Bobby. So, what kind of doctor? Eye stuff?”

“Trauma. ER stuff”

“Drunk people and broken bones?” he tries to joke.

“No, more like stab wounds. You’d be surprised how much damage you can do with the tiniest thing” you comment, picking up a tiny fork with a bored expression. “I mean, just the right spot and your entire carotid blows up. Gone in three seconds”

“Oh, darling, not everyone gets your medical humor” Wanda laughs a little too loud, pulling you away. “Anyways, nice talking to you, Bobby”

Bitch ass Bobby.

“Shut up” Wanda nudges your side, but she’s laughing too.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes” she smiles when you pull her close.

“Didn’t like the way he was staring. I mean, you are beautiful and everyone should acknowledge it. But he looked like he thought he had a chance”

“Nothing could be further from the truth”

“Between this and tiny Dick back in Westview I’m thinking I should put a ring on it before they cause any more trouble” you laugh, kissing her temple.

It’s a joke and Wanda can tell, because immediately after speaking you’re gulfing down entrees and talking about your plans for tomorrow, but she still thinks about the ring she found and how it’s been sitting on a box for three months now.

“Everything ok, babe?”

“Yeah, just tired” she says, and it’s not exactly a lie, not after four hours worth of cardio.

“We can relax tomorrow. I’ll cook for you” you promise.

Wendy and other people approach you and you’re charming them in no time. It’s very amusing to learn they all heard the story of Lily’s baby and how you walked in to save the day.

Speaking of which, at some point during the evening, someone calls for a doctor.

“Huh” you comment when you spot Bobby coughing, something clearly stuck on his throat.

“Go” Wanda pushes you, but you lean against the bar, sipping on your drink.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. He has one more minute before it gets dangerous”

But at Wanda’s insistence, you sigh and put your glass down, walking towards the man.

“Alright, here we go” you say, doing the good old Heimlich maneuver on him. Though your grip might be a little too strong as you squeeze his mid section.

Something comes flying out of his mouth and you put him down, looking bored.

“See? He’s fine” you say when you return to sit next to Wanda. He looks anything but, shaking and losening his tie. “I mean, he’s not dying”

Wanda rolls her eyes, but kisses your cheek. You spend the rest of the evening glued to her side, hands wandering down her back and gripping her waist. It’s like you’re addicted to feeling Wanda’s body against yours.

“You’re making it really hard to focus” she teases when you’re finally alone.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m gonna miss you. I know I’m going back to Westview next week but I…”

“What?”

“It’s nothing” you look away, sighing.

“Detka”

But Wendy takes Wanda to meet some people, and you stay at the bar, looking around the room. When Wanda finally comes back, she can tell you’re tired and she says goodbye to everyone.

“Lets walk for a bit” she asks, taking your hand and pulling you towards a park. You nod and follow her, still thinking about everything you’re feeling.

Your thougts are interrupted by a street musician, singing a song you’re not familiar with.

“I know this one” Wanda says, reading your expression. “Reflecting light”

“It’s really beautiful”

“Come on” she offers her other hand, and you smile, your hands on her waist as she rests her head on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” she finally asks and you laugh.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“I know you”

“I just…” you sigh, looking at her. “I’m going back to Westview and I have to undo the mess I left at the hospital. The city will be the same, but I’m not the same anymore… and I don’t know, I’m scared that everything will just feel wrong, or I’ll screw up”

“Sweetheart” Wanda interrupts your rambling. “I don’t think either one of us is the same. But that’s a good thing. It means we learned from our mistakes and we’re stronger. It’s gonna be alright”

“You promise?”

“I can promise you this. I’m here for better and worse”

"Sickness and health?” you joke, but your heart beats faster when Wanda looks into your eyes, nodding slowly.

“Yes, my love. Through all of that” she promises, kissing you softly.

As you sway to the soft music, you both think about the future together.

It’s looking good as long as you have each other.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n

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dokyumms · 2 days ago

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seventeen's reaction to their s/o being a surgeon !

pairings: ot13 x gn surgeon!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 861

cw: none

a/n: another request done! i'm definitely not a surgeon, so this is probably not accurate T-T also, i'm going to try to start posting on a schedule eventually... but i'm not sure yet. anyways, enjoy this kings ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

scoups - he didn't even realize he could fall more in love with you until you told him you were a surgeon. not only are you smart, but you save lives (and he just thinks you look hot in scrubs)? oh he's dug himself up a deeper hole. he tries to do what he can to help you, always offering to pick you up from work even if you clock out just hours before he has to go to practice.

jeonghan - he enjoys being your stay at home wife and sugar baby lol. when he found out, he probably showed the most excitement he'd shown in a while, "so, this means you have enough money to buy me a dyson hair dryer?" he likes knowing that you're working hard while he rots on the couch, but he hates when you have to get up for work at 5:30 in the morning. you can't count how many times you've almost been late for work since jeonghan will trap you in bed with him until the very last minute.

joshua - honestly the best moral support. he really loves that you help others for a living and wants to get involved, making bracelets for all your surgical patients. whenever you're burnt out or tired, he's there to catch you as well. he wants to make sure you're always in the best state to do your job well, so occasionally he'll nag on some of your bad habits, "we need you alive so you can keep other people alive silly,"

jun - he's very curious about your job, "you do what?? tell me more," he always asks about how your day was and won't sleep till you tell him every detail. so, now he knows all the drama between your coworkers. anytime he gets injured he immediately sends a photo to you with absolutely no warning and asks you to diagnose him (because he lowkey thinks surgeon = doctor 😭).

hoshi - very explosive reaction to say the least... "WHAT?? that's like such a scary job though??? how..?" he's honestly a little scared of you now. one time he sent you a picture of a vase he accidentally broke and was like "you won't dissect me or something because of this... right?" but anytime a member disrespects him? he's instantly using you to threaten them.

wonwoo - if he didn't have enough respect for you already, he certainly does now. he lovesss having a book-smart partner. sort of like jun, but he does more research so he can engage in more conversation with you. he even read a book all about it so you don't have to explain all the medical lingo to him.

woozi - secretly very impressed. he tries to be nonchalant about it when he finds out like, "okay.. cool," but then he'll end watching a ton of videos about it later. he would've never thought someone like you could have such an enduring job, you're always so bright around him! if it were him, he'd never be in a good mood lol.

dk - he's definitely worried about you all the time now, but also you're biggest cheerleader! anytime you have a big surgery coming up, he always send you good luck messages, "my y/nnn, you got this! i'll be cheering you on ๑˃̶͈̀Ⱉ˂̶͈́๑" he totally checks up on you like every hour as well, "are you eating? well you should eat :)"

mingyu - like jeonghan, he's now your stay at home wife. he literally packs you lunch every morning and even puts in little sticky notes with surgeon-related jokes... are they funny? well, more or less, but he always draws little doodles of you in your scrubs that make you giggle.

the8 - he admires you so much for your job, and he makes sure that you know it too. when you get home from work he's just like, "you're so cool, you know," if you EVER downplay yourself, he's constantly reminding you that you shouldn't try to make it sound like your job is easy. and to your dismay, he's always flexing that he's got a surgeon as his partner.

seungkwan - impressed and worried. whenever you mention having a big surgery, he's more nervous than you (even if it's already passed). he's really big on making sure you're taking care of yourself, offering to treat you to a spa day whenever you have time. plus, it's an excuse for him to do face masks with you.

vernon - bro will NOT stop making 'grey's anatomy' references. it's too late to stop him. "there're no 'mcdreamys' at your job right?" he makes you watch the show with him and asks if it's accurate. other than that, super chill and respects your work ethic.

dino - he's scared of you, but also super proud. you won't catch this guy even coming close to disrespecting you anytime soon. also someone who will confuse surgeons as doctors, so you have to explain to them that they're really different, and no, you can't write him a doctor's note so he can skip practice because he has a 'mega bad headache'

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tqlepatia · 2 days ago

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⋆ - 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 ୭˚. ᵎᵎ

#.ex!toxic sevika, love triangle, mild violence and emotional manipulation

- part one. part two. part three.

Sevika was fuming.

She stalked through the dimly lit streets of Zaun, her jaw clenched so tight it ached. Four days. Four days of stewing in her own anger, of replaying that damn conversation in her head, babette was living in her head now, repeating that damn words, again, again, again and again

"she's busy sevika, with grayson"

Grayson.

Fucking Grayson.

The woman had no damn business being here. She was Piltover through and through, too clean, too proper, too used to getting what she wanted. And what she wanted now, apparently, was you.

Sevika knew it the moment she saw her, standing too close, that infuriating smirk on her face. She had seen the way Grayson watched you, the way she talked to you, how she hears your moans at the other side of the wall of the brothel while she walk in to search another girl, It made Sevika’s blood boil.

So, when she finally found Grayson leaning against the bar in one of Zaun’s more upscale dens, nursing a drink like she belonged there, Sevika didn’t bother with pleasantries.

"You should go back to Piltover, Sheriff," Sevika growled, stepping into Grayson’s space, making it clear she wasn’t in the mood for games. "They have brothels there too, don’t they?"

Grayson chuckled confidently, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. "They do," she said, taking a deliberate sip, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But none of them have her."

Sevika’s fists clenched. She could feel the familiar itch of violence crawling up her spine, urging her to swing, to grab Grayson by that uniform and shove her against the bar. Instead, she exhaled sharply through her nose.

"She doesn’t belong to you," Sevika snarled.

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "No? Funny, because last I checked—" she leaned in, voice dropping low "—she's doesn't belong to you neither, not anymore."

Sevika froze.

That, that, hit deeper than she was willing to admit.

She had known things between you had fallen apart, but to hear it so plainly, from Grayson of all people, made something ugly twist in her gut.

Grayson tilted her head, watching her reaction. "What’s wrong, Sevika? Thought you could ruin her, toss her aside, and no one else would ever want her?" Her lips curved into a slow smirk. "Hate to break it to you, but she's too damn hot to pass up."

Sevika’s patience snapped.

She grabbed Grayson’s collar, dragging her in close, their noses nearly touching. The tension was razor-sharp, the air crackling with the unspoken challenge between them.

"Stay the fuck away from her."

Grayson didn’t flinch. If anything, her smirk widened. "Or what? You gonna lose her again?"

That was the thing about Grayson. She didn’t need to throw a punch to land a hit.

Sevika let go, shoving her back with a sneer. She turned on her heel, stalking away before she did something really stupid.

Grayson’s voice followed her.

"Better move fast, sweetheart." A pause. "Wouldn’t want me to get there first."

Sevika didn’t stop.

Four days had passed since Sevika's encounter with Grayson, but the fury hadn't subsided. If anything, it had only intensified. Her mind kept replaying that moment over and over, each time with a deeper ache. She should have done something more, something to teach Grayson a lesson, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized it wasn’t Grayson she was mad at. It was herself.

She had let you slip away. Her. The one person she had let herself care about in years. And now Grayson, of all people, was circling around you like a fucking lion, and Sevika could do nothing but watch.

It was late afternoon when Sevika found herself on the outskirts of Zaun, heading to the last drop, a frequent place to her. Her fists were still tight at her sides, the weight of her emotions weighing on her chest. She wasn’t sure whether it was the stress of the past few days, or the feeling of helplessness that gnawed at her, but something felt off.

And then she saw it.

A shadow slipped between the drunk mans, and her instincts kicked in. Her hand shot to the side, grabbing the hilt of a knife she always carried.

But when the figure stepped into the dim light, Sevika froze.

It was you.

"Sevika…" Your voice was soft, almost hesitant, but she could feel the tension in the air, the way you were holding back.

Her jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here?"

You hesitated for a moment, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "I needed to see you."

Sevika’s heart skipped a beat, her defenses crumbling just a fraction. She hadn't expected this. She hadn't expected you to seek her out.

"What the hell do you want, huh?" Sevika growled, stepping forward to close the space between you. Her anger was still there, simmering under the surface, but now it was laced with confusion. Was it anger at you? At Grayson? At herself?

"I—I need to understand," you said, your voice wavering. "I need to know what happened between us."

Sevika’s eyes flickered away, her gaze hardening. She didn’t want to talk about this, not now. "We don’t need to do this."

But you weren't backing down. "I do." Your voice cracked with a rawness she hadn’t heard before. "I need to know if there’s any chance left. If we can fix this. Can we?"

Sevika’s breath caught. Her heart ached at the vulnerability in your words, but she knew—she knew deep down—that she was too broken for anything between you to be fixed. She was too lost in her own demons to ever give you what you deserved.

But you were still standing there, looking at her like you wanted answers, like you still saw something in her worth saving.

"Please," you whispered, and she almost felt herself melt when you looked at her with those big bambi eyes

Sevika wanted to say so many things. She wanted to tell you that she cared, that she hadn’t meant for things to spiral this way, that she wanted nothing more than to hold you and tell you everything would be okay. But the words wouldn’t come. She was too tangled in her own emotions, too lost in the anger and regret that clouded her mind.

"You’re better off without me," Sevika muttered, stepping back, unwilling to meet your eyes. "You deserve more than this, more than me"

But before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from the shadows. Grayson’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Seems like I got here just in time," she said with that damn smug grin plastered on her face.

Sevika’s heart sank, her fists clenching again, rage bubbling up once more.

"Stay away from her, Grayson," Sevika growled, turning to face the woman she had been avoiding for days.

Grayson held up her hands, feigning innocence. "I’m just here to check on my new… friend." She winked at you, ignoring Sevika’s glare entirely.

You stepped forward, your gaze flickering between them. "I don’t need either of you to fight over me, its fucking stupid and childish."

"Don’t listen to her," Sevika snapped, her anger rising once again, but not at you. Not at the idea of you being with Grayson. At herself, for being too damn dumb to let you slip through her fingers.

But Grayson wasn’t finished. "You know," she said, her voice laced with condescension, "I’m really starting to think you’re just too late, Sevika."

Before Sevika could snap back, you spoke again, your voice quiet but firm. "Enough."

The word hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid.

Grayson raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You want to tell me what’s going on here?"

But you turned away from both of them, and you're back to Grayson and Sevika. "I’m done," you said softly, your voice barely audible. "I’m done with all of this."

Sevika’s world tilted, her heart falling into the pit of her stomach.

"You can’t just walk away," Sevika said, her voice cracking with the intensity of her frustration. She reached out, but you didn’t turn back.

"I’m not walking away from anyone," you said, your voice filled with pain. "I’m walking away from both of you."

Sevika watched as you disappeared into the shadows, leaving her standing there with nothing but the echo of your words.

For the first time in days, the anger faded, leaving only a hollow emptiness.

And she knew, deep down, that this was the worst thing she could have done.

❝ For the last part, who stays with the reader? And I may change some things later. I hope y'all are feeling well, angels! Xoxo❞

#arcane x reader #sevika x reader #sevika x you #wlw #sevika arcane x reader #lesbian #grayson × reader #arcane grayson #grayson x you #arcane grayson × reader #ex sevika #sevika #ambessa

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nanamisgirly · 1 day ago

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PLEASE, STAY

↪ ( ˶ a part of you wants to scream that yes, you did care. you still do. that you were just too afraid to stay. but you do none of that. instead, you do the only thing you're good at, you walk away. and he lets you. for mere seconds, he lets you leave— again. and then you hear him “don't you fucking do this again.” his voice isn't a plea, it's a command. for a moment, you think that he won't let you go. that maybe—just maybe—he'll grab your wrist, yank you back, force you to deal with this. but he doesn't. because he still wants you to choose him. and you never do.˵ )

pairing ᥫ᭡。richman!Gojo x bodyguard reader. they had a sort of situation ship before.

content ᥫ᭡。fem!reader, no curses au, they're both around 30, smut at the very end, very provocative gojo (?), mean reader ig, a lot of cursing, angst, oral sex, unprotected p in v sex, mention of blood, fights scenes, broken bones, pet name (mostly sweetheart and once baby), sexual tension, slow burn, explicit language, explicit content, power dynamics, military mention (mild ptsd), gun mentions

word count ᥫ᭡。13k

notes ᥫ᭡。this is for my 200 followers 🥹 thank you for all the reblogs they are very very much appreciated!! I didn't know where I was going with this fic lmao, I just hope that some of you will enjoy reading it! I'm always open to feed back :))) be mindful this is my first long (?) fic, I threw some stuff together and hoped for the best oops

you were assigned to gojo saturo. of all the men you could possibly protect, it had to be him— you're ex-friend with benefits.

you sat across from him at a table that probably cost more than your entire apartement, fingers twitching under the weight of irritation. the upscale place was dimly lit, the kind meant for quiet luxury.

“you both understood?” your superior asked, sharp gaze flickering between the two of you. Gojo grinned, the same playful smirk on his annoyingly handsome face. the past nine years had only done him favors, he'd grown taller— making him tall like a damn tower— his features sharper, his frame broader. 'maybe he'd been training' you thought. ‘or it’s just life sculpting him into something even more irritatingly perfect.'

you left him when things started to be serious. back then, Gojo had some difficulties to understand he was just a sex friend. but it didn't really matter, you had to leave for the military anyway.

for a long time, you didn't want to process feelings, attachments— that was just bullshit. and now, nine years later, somehow, you were right back where you started.

you retired from the military after sustaining severe injuries. but you still craved the thrill— fights, missions, the adrenaline rush. it kept you on track. like drugs, you were addicted. so you became a sort of bodyguard. over the years, you had protected royals, rich heirs, celebrities— anyone with a target on their back. it owned you the reputation as being the best in your field. you were ruthless, cold-blooded, killing without hesitation if needed.

your face remained stoic, your gaze locked onto gojo as he held yours. “yeah, got it. babysit the rich brat until the gala's over.” you mocked, leaning back against the chair.

satoru chuckled, he couldn't help but tease you “oh, come on now. you make it sound so boring” tilting his head like a cat toying with its prey. “i thought you'd be happy to spend some time with an old friend”

you scoffed. “friend is a strong word, Gojo” that response only fueled his mischief. “you're right” he crosses his arms as he continues “we were never just friends” insufferable brat. “i'm here to do my job. nothing more” you said without a hint of emotion in your tone, fixing him with a glare that should've shut him up.

it didn't.

his piercing blue eyes gleamed with amusement “of course, sweetie," he purred, resting his elbows on the table, leaning in “just admit you missed seeing my beautiful face.”

you exhaled sharply, already exhausted 'maybe a small knife pressed against his throat wouldn't hurt— just a little warning.'

“what i miss, is protecting some quiet person who knows their limits and let me do my damn job in peace. this, is what i truly miss”. Gojo hummed, shamelessly dragging his gaze over you “personally, i missed that sharp tongue of yours.”

“alright, enough,” your superior cut in, his tone serious— a clear warning that he had no patience for the ridiculous back-and-forth between you two. “stay close at all times. there are threats left and right against him leading up to the gala.” he turned his attention to gojo “you don't act up, and you listen to whatever she tells you.” the rich man was clearly enjoying himself “don't worry, i love when she bosses me around” he winked at you before standing up and leaving the restaurant. like this was all a game to him.

your superior exhaled heavily, already bracing for the headache to come. then, he dropped the next bomb. “you need to stay at his place.”

you try your best to keep a straight face. “what?”

“gojo is already informed. you're moving in tonight.” and with that, he left the table, leaving you seething.

your fist met with the surface with a dull thud. “damn it,” you muttered, frustration curling hot in your chest.

this is going to be a long, long week.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you rode to gojo's house, spending the time to talk yourself down. you had spent years perfecting your composure. you had survived war zones, assassinations, and high-profile threats. there was no reason for gojo fucking satoru to get under your skin.

and yet.

his house— no, his mansion— was perched high above the city, a fortress of sleek glass and security. the driveway alone was bigger than some of the safe houses you'd stayed in.

when you pulled up to his gates, the night was well-advanced, the cold biting at your cheeks as you lifted up your helmet. you met some guards at the entrance stating that gojo was expecting you. of course, he was.

the second you stepped through the doors, the place smelled ridiculously expensive. the living room was massive, with a sunken seating area surrounding a glass-enclosed firepit. there are floor-to-celling windows stretched across the space, offering a panoramic view of the glittering cityscape below. a massive, curved staircase led to the second floor, the railings lined with soft, glowing, light strips, guiding the way up.

the place screamed luxury— unapologetically extravagant, but with taste. just like satoru gojo.

you sighed, rolling the tension from your shoulders as you tugged off your gloves. the ride had been long. your muscles ached. your motorbike uniform clung to you, slightly damp with sweat. all you wanted was a shower and some sleep.

“you're so sexy in that uniform” his voice came from above. you looked up to find him leaning against the railing, messy white hair, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms, collarbone peeking through his loose neckline of his shirt.

and that goddamn smirk.

“gojo,” you warned, voice firm. he ignored it entirely, blue eyes twinkling as they dragged over you with zero shame. “seriously, bending you over in it wouldn't be so bad.” your fingers twitched. satoru in all his splendor.

“wouldn't be so bad if i curb-stomped you into the floor.” you respond. gojo restrained a laugh, eyes sparking with mirth. he fucking loved this— pushing your limits. “actually, i wouldn't mind that either” you grit your teeth at the comment. “just show me where my fucking room is."

when you reached him, he let out a dramatic sigh, “not even a little peck before sleep, sweetheart?” you blankly stared at him “alright, no need to look at me with so much love” he ironically says as he turned around, leading you to your room.

──────-ˋˏ ༻��༺ ˎˊ-

4am. the digital clock glowed dimly as you pounded your fists against the heavy bag. you slept only two hours— which, honestly was decent considering you never slept well. the military had drilled into the art of light, vigilant rest, training you to snap into action as the slightest disturbance. and staying here, with gojo just down the hall, only worsened that already unstable peace.

“fuck it” your fist connected with the training bag, a loud thud echoing through the empty gym. you did a home tour by your own after gojo dropped you to your bedroom— and to your relief, you found a fully equipped training room. exactly what you needed to burn off frustration time to time.

sweats dripped down your temple, muscles burning from exertion as you moved with precision and force, the heavy bag jerking with each impact. your t-shirt had been abandoned long ago—tossed to the side as the heat from training built up—leaving you in nothing but sports bra and low-slung sweatpants.

“gojo, are you going to stay there for long?” you snapped as he stayed put in the doorway, thinking you hadn't noticed him those past fifteen minutes, arms crossed like he had all the time in the world. he grinned, unbothered “was testing if you could notice a threat even while distracted” you snorted “well, now that you oh-so-sweetly reassured yourself, could you fuck off?” your fist slammed onto the bag harder, sending it swinging violently.

you felt gojo's eyes on you, it almost burnt holes on your skin. his eyes darted at the sweat slipping on your back. “damn," his voice was low “i think i prefer you like this— hot, sweaty, breathless.” he insisted on the last word. your eyes flicked to his figure as he took slow steps forward. “i think i like you gone.” he clicked his tongue, tilting his head as if you disappointed him “why always so hostile? i could be way more helpful than that punching ball.”

you were too fucking exhausted for this, your next punch sent the bag flying so violently it nearly knocked over the weight rack. you caught it with one of your wrapped hand, fingers tightening around the worn leather. you exhaled sharply, preparing yourself to face gojo and his bullshit. “i swear satoru—” you stepped closer to him, closing the space between you. only to realize how stupidly tall he was up close. you weren't small but standing like this— with a solid eight inches between you— made you feel very tiny next to him.

“satoru," he repeats “it's been a while since you've said my name. say it again” he leaned in, eyes lazily tracing your lips, the small hairs at the back of your neck sticking to your skin, your full breasts pressed tight against your sports bra. a strong desire lingering in his eyes as he imagined licking every drop of your sweat. he tested your patience “you know,” he murmured “i really love this view.”

and that was it, you had enough. in no time you grabbed him, hooked your arm, and flipped his ass over your shoulder— slamming him onto the floor. before he could react, you were on him, your thighs straddling his hips, your hand wrapped around his throat. gojo eyes widened in shock— he did not expect that. but the surprise was soon enough replaced by a slow curl of his lips.

“fuck,” he chocked out “that was hot, sweetheart.” you tightened your grip around his neck “gojo, you're a fucking perv.” you felt something hard pressing between your legs. “i'm just a man." he lifted his hand, acting innocent "you kept bouncing around that bag, how could i not get some ideas?”

the worst part of all those stuff is that you were turned on by all his teasing. your panties dampened any time he made a comment over the little talk you both had in those past ten hours.

“gojo, you're a total pathetic man,” you mutter rolling your hips down harder, closing your thighs firmly around him just to hurt a little more. his pupils blown wide and his lips part sightly— that fucking bastard was loving it. “y-yeah, pathetic” he chokes out “i- i'm a- a very p-pathetic m-man." your panties were so damn soaked by now as his length presses sinfully against your core. you refuse to acknowledge the feelings, you don't need it, you don't need him, you don't need to go back to him.

you release his throat with a final squeeze, eyes heavy, dragging your fingers down his heavy chest— feeling the hard ridges of muscle tense under your touch, before you push yourself up and off him. you see his hips twitching up, as if he was chasing the missing heat of your pussy. gojo let out a broken— needy whimper, as you adjust your waistband and roll your shoulders back, trying to gather your thoughts. ignoring the aching pulse between your legs.

your feet leading you to the door. you throw one last glance to gojo, you can see his erection straining against his pants from where you stand, aching to be taken care of— gojo's features twisting in desperation. “be ready at eight a.m. We've got recon to do.” and with that, you leave him there, fighting the urge to go back inside and kiss him senseless.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the ride to the venue is longer than necessary with gojo whom insisted on riding with you. you should have known better than accepting his demand. he can not keep his hand to himself.

at first, his hands rested innocently on your stomach, but as soon as you took off, he let them slide lower, palm resting on your inner thighs— fingers tracing circles way too close to your core. the vibrations of the bike only make it worse.

at the next red light, you snap your hand down, gripping his wrist. “keep your hands to yourself” you warn him “either way i'll have to cut them off” his chest rumbles with laughter against your back. “what if i don't want to?” you hear his teasing voice through the speaker of your helmet “you're never asking about what i want, sweetheart.” his hands squeezing you through your pants. “i think i'm gonna kick your ass off the bike. go to hell that damn mission” your jaw tightened, ‘why does he have to make everything so difficult’

the light turns green and you don't hesitate to accelerate like a damn crazy— earning some curses from gojo, his arms wrapping around you, his thighs locking firmly against yours. once he accommodate to the speed, he's laughing, slightly enjoying the way you speed down the street like you're trying to outrun the heat pooling between your legs.

you parked in front of the luxurious hotel, one of the most extravagant hotels in the city by the way. the gala will be held there, a beautiful place— a perfect representation of gojo's wealth and arrogance. “gorgeous place, huh?” he muses. “maybe we should get a room after the mission, to celebrate our teamwork.” you swing your leg off smoothly, ignoring him as you unbuckle your helmet.

when you step inside, multiple people are working on the preparations— setting up tables, adjusting lighting, and fussing over floral arrangements. you walk straight past them, heading toward the ballroom where the gala will take place. the room is massive— high ceilings with floor-to-ceiling glass windows, multiple balconies. it's beautiful, but a logistical nightmare for security. too many places to hide, too many potential vantage points for a sniper.

gojo lets out a low whistle, walking a step behind, hands in his pockets— acting like a damn tourist instead of a man with an actual bounty on his head. you walk past the ballroom, letting him doing whatever he is. you head toward the back corridors, checking the service entrances, mapping out the security offices. The staff is too busy setting up to pay you much attention— except for the occasional glance at gojo, probably wondering if he's some high-profile guest.

then something shifts. a group of security personnel moves in, just a little too fast. too coordinated. you recognize the stance immediately— trained, disciplined. not just the hotel staff. your instincts scream at you, your feet move before your mind fully catches up— you step toward gojo to warn him…and that's when you see it. a figure in the hallway, gun raised. aimed directly at gojo's head.

your body moves before your brain processes. you twist on your heel, muscles coiled, and throw your knife. it slices through the air, and the second it buries itself deep in the shooter's forearm, he lets out a sharp yell, his aim faltering. it's all you need. you charge.

your combat boots barely make a sound as you sprint toward the shooter. you're on him before he even recovers, grabbing his wrist and twisting it outward— hard.

POP. he screams, his shoulder socket dislocating from the brutal angle, the gun slipping from his fingers. your knee flies up, slamming into his sternum. you feel his ribs shift under the impact, his breath leaving him in choked gasp before you shove him aside like trash.

“holy shit—” gojo starts, but you don't hear the rest as you see three more attackers already closing in. one of them lunges with a knife— fast, trained. but so are you. you shift sideways at the last second, grabbing his wrist mid-swipe. then in a brutal motion, you twist. his own blade sinks into his thigh. a strangled gurgle leaves his lips as he stumbles back, collapsing to his knees, clutching the handle buried in his leg.

suddenly you feel arms wrapping around your waist, lifting you from the floor. you snap your head back, cracking the nose of your opponment with the force of a fucking hammer. blood sprays onto your shoulder and the wall. your fast to slam your elbow into his throat, his air supply instantly cut off, his body jerking as he crumples to the floor.

the last guy is bigger, stronger— seems to be military trained from the way he moves. but that doesn't matter, you've had to deal with fiercer men before. when he's close enough, you drop low— leg swings out in a sweeping arc. CRACK.

his legs are ripped out from under him. he fall onto his back, gasping for air. you don't let him breathe, your fist driving down, once.

twice, three times.

the last punch bursts his lip open, blood dripping down his chin. your fingers wrap around his throat. you lean in close, sweat dripping down your temple, eyes heavy of the need to kill. “you fucked with the wrong person.” you hear a broken noise coming from his lung. you tighten your grip.

and then— clapping.

you whip around, chest heaving. and there stands gojo, grinning like the devil himself “well, well, well.” he whistles, stepping over the bodies of the men you just demolished. “i gotta admit, that was fucking sexy” your brain is still catching up, heart pulsing with adrenaline “what the hell is wrong with you?” you snap. “we almost got fucking assassinated.”

his grin deepens. “sweetheart…” he crouches down, tilting his head. “that wasn't an assassination.”

you freeze. you hope it's not what you think it is.

he gestures lazily at the unconscious men. “that was a test.” he lifts his shoulders, unbothered. “wanted to be sur you still got it” he winks, amused.

your blood runs hot. “a test?” gojo shrugs, way too casual for someone who just watched you beat the absolute shit out of four men. his gaze drags over you— knuckles bloodied, chest rising and falling hard— and his smirk only widens.

you don't think much as you launch at him, fury taking over— fully prepared to knock that smug grin off his face for good. but this time, he's ready. he catches your wrist mid-swing. “no, no,” he purrs, his grip tightening just enough to make you aware of his strength. “play nice.” your free hand grabs the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer “fuck you and your stupid games," you spit "i can't wait for this week to end.” you see red.

gojo's amused eyes faded into something darker. his eyes once playful, turn sharp, dangerous. “and what?" his voice is low, cold— jaw clenched so tightly it might break. "leave like you did nine years ago?” his face inches closer, his warm breath hitting your skin. “leaving without a second look?” your stomach twists. he's standing too close— looking at you like he wants to rip you apart.

your chest rises and falls sharply. your body is still burning from the fight, but this— this is worse. you rip your wrist from his grasp, shoving him hard enough that he stumbles back a step. and he laughs. an empty laugh, far from his usual cocky, full-bodied laugh. “that's all you ever fucking do, huh?” his voice is sharp. “run.” you flinch, ever so sightly. but he sees it. and he seems satisfied ‘i finally got a reaction out of her.’

"i didn't have a choice". you force the words out, voice controlled. gojo's expression darkens. “bullshit, you always had a choice.” he steps forward, and this time, you don't move back. if he punched you, it will be well-deserved. you wouldn't dodge it. his fist on your face would hurt less than the words coming out of his mouth.

“you just didn't choose me.” your heart stops, feeling something inside you cracks. but you don't want him to see it. so, as much as you hate what you're about to say, you steel yourself and let it out “what, you think i owed you something?” the words taste bitter, burning your tongue even as they leave your mouth.

gojo's lips parts, but nothing comes out at first. then quietly— too fucking quietly “no.” his voice is ragged, raw. “but i thought you cared.” you feel it like a punch to the gut. gojo never says things like this. he surely is all teasing remarks and well-placed avoidance but never is he a looking like you ruined him. like you destroyed a part no one could ever rebuild— except… you.

a part of you wants to scream that yes, you did care. you still do. that you were just too afraid to stay. but you do none of that. instead, you do the only thing you're good at, you walk away. and he lets you.

for mere seconds, he lets you leave— again. but then you hear him “don't you fucking do this again.” his voice isn't a plea, it's a command. for a moment, you think that he won't let you go. that maybe—just maybe—he'll grab your wrist, yank you back, force you to deal with this. but he doesn't.

because he still wants you to choose him. and you never do.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the ride back home is fine. if fine meant quiet, tense, and filled with too much unsaid shit hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. then yeah, it is fine.

gojo didn't pull his usual antics— no wandering hands, no teasing remarks. just silence. his hands stay firmly on his own thighs, gripping the edges of the seat. and somehow that irritates you even more.

you can feel the weight of his gaze the entire ride back, burning into the back of your head like a brand. he doesn't speak, but his presence is suffocating.

by the time you pull up to his estate, he gets off the bike before you can even kill the engine. his movements are sharp, jaw clenched, shoulders tense. for a moment, he just stands there, staring at you, like he's debating something. you stare back, chest rising and falling with the remnants of adrenaline still buzzing through your veins.

but then, with a low scoff, he turns on his heels, and heads inside without a word. you don't follow. not immediately. taking a moment for yourself. trying to gather back your composure.

you stay seated on your bike, hands tightening around the handlebars, knuckles white. heart pounding like a war drum against your ribs. the wind bites at your skin, but it's nothing compared to the cold settling in your chest.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the next day is spent preparing for the gala. you go over the blueprints of the venue again, double-checking entrance and exist, every potential blind spot.

the chaos from yesterday has been cleaned up— not a single trace of the fight remains. the bloodied bodies have been taken care of, the shattered glass replaced with pristine tables, the blood smeared across the walls scrubbed away as if it never existed. as if it was nothing more than a fever dream.

you analyze the guest list, looking for possible threats. you argue with gojo about security placements, mostly because he doesn't take anything seriously. “take a look at this. tell me if you recognize anyone shady.” the tall man barely glances at the screen before muttering, “they're all shady.” you roll your eyes "that's not helpful." he shrugs, stepping toward the grand windows. “i don't really care.” that pisses you off. “gojo, could you at least pretend to care?” you put a hand on your hips, patience thinning.

he exhales through his nose, barely sparing you glance over his shoulder. and then, with a calmness that cuts deeper than yelling ever could, he says, “you're the one who didn't care, remember?” and that shuts you up.

he doesn't wait for your response, doesn't push, doesn't linger. just clasps his hands behind his back, taking a slow tour of the ballroom, his gaze dragging over the chandeliers, the polished floors, the extravagant decor— all while completely ignoring you.

the gala is tomorrow.

and you don't know if you're ready.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

morning comes too soon. you barely slept, torn between the looming mission ahead and the cold, unbearable silence that had settled between you and gojo. since that night at the hotel, it had been nothing but tension— thick, suffocating, unspoken. a battlefield of sidelong glances, clipped conversations, and empty spaces where words should have been. especially your words. words of regrets.

and now, as you sit stiffly across from gojo on his sleek leather couch, arms crossed so tightly your nails bite into your skin, it's clear nothing has changed. he doesn't look at you. he hasn't since that night. since those words left his mouth, cutting deeper than any blade you took.

your superior clears his throat, dragging you back to the present. his voice clipped, all business. “you'll be attending as a couple.” the words slam into you like a wrecking ball.“you're kidding” you say flatly, glaring at your superior. “no,” he says simply. and you hear gojo letting out a laugh. the sound sends cold down your spine.

“it's the best cover. gojo is a known public figure, and he's expected to bring someone. you, on the other hand, aren't on anyone's radar. it's the perfect excuse to keep you close and avoid suspicion.” you shake your head. “there has to be another way.” you bite the inside of your cheek, gripping your own arms as if that'll keep you from exploding. this is a fucking disaster. “there isn't.”

fucking hell.

how are you supposed to play lovers when everything between you is broken, shattered, and stitched back together with nothing but avoidance? you can feel gojo's eye on you, but you refuse to meet them. you already know what he's thinking. that you well-deserved that. that you were the one who ran away from him nine years ago, without any explanations.

your jaw locks as you finally risk a glance at him. he's watching you, studying you. blue glacial eyes pinning you in place. then slowly, he tilts his head. lips curling into a grin. “well,” his voice low, with something dark. “this should be fun.”

the moment your superior is done talking, you push yourself off the couch and stride toward your room, your pulse hammering too fast. it's too much.

the air is still charged, like static before a storm. even more now that you know you're going as a couple. behind you, gojo doesn't say a word. he doesn't try to stop you either. of course, he doesn't.

you try to convince yourself it's easier this way. easier to act like none of it matters. like the past isn't clinging to both of you with bloodied, desperate hands.

the second the door clicks shut behind you, you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. the tension in your shoulders lingers, pressing your forehead against the door. 'focus' you tell yourself. tonight is business, the mission comes first. it's not about him— not about your feelings.

you step into the bathroom, turning the shower knob. water rushed out, steam filling the space almost instantly. hot, scalding— exactly what you need. you peel off your clothes, letting them drop carelessly to the floor before stepping inside.

the first touch of water burns, but you don't move away. instead, you welcome it. let it wash over you, over your skin, over the lingering heat still trapped in your body from the way gojo looked at you earlier. your hands slide over your arms, down your sides, over the curves of your body, the pressure firm as if you could scrub away the past— him.

the water runs through your hair, down your back, down your thighs, and still, you can't shake the way your body remembers him. the way it still reacts to the mere idea of him. it pisses you off. your fingers tighten into fists before you force yourself to exhale, resting your forehead against the cool tile. you stay like this for a while. letting the water scald you, hoping it can burn out the thing still curling inside your chest, still whispering his name in the back of your mind.

by the time you finally step out, steam curls around the mirror, the bathroom thick with heat. you wrap yourself in a towel, sighing as you push the door open. as you step closer to the bed, you notice a box on your bed. black, sleek, expensive. your breath catches for a second, it's not hard to guess who left it. you approach it slowly, a wary sort of anticipation buzzing under your skin.

on the box, a note. a small, folded piece of paper with gojo's handwriting.

‘’ sweetheart, i can't let you ruin my reputation with those cheap dresses you own. i have an image to maintain, after all. a rich man can't have people thinking he's poor. wear this. — satoru ‘’

your breath stutters for a second. sweetheart. something in your chest tightens, flutters, pounds. you crush it, fight it. with steady hands, you set the note aside and lift the lid of the box— and you freeze.

the dress inside is breathtaking. it's a shade of blue so deep, so striking— the same as his eyes. you swallow, fingertips ghosting over the fabric. it's impossibly smooth, slipping through your fingers like liquid, designed to mold to every curve, to hug your body like a second skin. a dress that demands attention. you take it out of the box and immediately notice the back. or rather, the lack of one. the fabric dips dangerously low. with a sort of thin white belt that wraps behind your neck, fastening at the nape before cascading down in a delicate, tantalizing line. tracing your vertebral column. a seductive dress, yet functional enough to fight in case.

you return your attention to the box. your eyes widen as you see a pair of underwear. a soft filthy shade of blue, slightly lighter than the dress delicate and teasing. the panties are sheer in all the wrong places, practically see-through, the thin straps barely qualifying as fabric. offering little to the imagination. there's subtle glittering embellishments, catching the light just enough to draw eye.

just enough to drive a man insane. your throat runs dry. that fucking bastard.

you dig further into the box, only to find jewelry. a necklace so fine it barely feels real, elegant enough to steal attention. earrings that shimmer subtly, matching perfectly with the delicate bracelet nestled beside them.

everything about this is so intimate. you hate that your heart still reacts, that your fingers tremble slightly as you lift the necklace, as you let the fabric of the dress slip between your fingers. every single piece was selected with intent. this isn't just a gift, it's a statement.

gojo satoru is back at it again. back to his games. back to this push and pull. he's testing your limits once again. you need to show him, you need to keep your bold cold. mission. mission then next… gojo.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

8:17 p.m. you see as you finish getting ready. adrenaline rushing through your veins. your hands move on mechanism, fastening the holster around your thigh before slipping the small firearm into place, the slit of your dress perfectly concealing it. since gojo is the host, there won't be any security checks for you at the entrance.

you allow yourself one final breath, steadying your pulse as your hand move to the door handle. tonight, your job is to protect him. nothing more.

you push the door open, and nothing could have prepared you for what is waiting for you. in front of you stand an anxious gojo, fixing his suit jacket, smoothing the fabric before his fingers nervously reach up to adjust his tie.

your breath hitches. the tie he's fumbling with is the exact same shade as your dress— his signature blue, the color of his eyes, the color that haunts your dream more often than you'd like to admit. his scent hits your nose, flooding your senses. something fresh, subtly spiced. it messes with your head, makes it hard to focus. his hair a little bit messy, like he's been running his hands through it while waiting for who knows how long.

and when his eyes find yours, everything in you freezes.

gojo stays still. his usual teasing remark falter, no lazy smirk, no arrogance. just… silence as his gaze consumes you. it's like the weight of the last few days of distance disappears, and all that remains is the way the dress clings to your body.

“i-” he starts. “that's…you- i mean,” he shakes his head, trying to gather his thoughts. he takes a slow step forward, his hand reaching out. you don't hesitate, taking it in yours. his fingers are warm against yours, his grip tight, like he's afraid to let go. to let you go.

he gently turns you, his eyes trailing over the open expanse of your back. he swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. “what's happening, satoru?” you tease “you finally dare to look at me, after all the ignoring these pasts days?” you tilt your head back, lifting your chin to meet his eyes. even in your heels, you remain towered by him, his presence overwhelming. gojo's eyes betray something deep— pain, maybe regret.

“sweetheart…” he murmurs, pulling you closer by the hand that holds yours. the sudden motion takes you by surprise, a gasp leaving your lips as your body crashes into his. “you have no idea what you do to me.” gojo growls softly. the heat of his body pressing against yours, makes you weak. you can't stop the way your breath hitches.

the word mission keeps echoing in your head. you shouldn't give in, not when he got so defensive, not when you still had walls built around you. “gojo,” you whispers as his eyes flickers to your lips. he leans in, his forehead touching yours, closing his eyes. “we need to figure it out.” he says simply. “give me a chance.” his hands grip your waist, molding your body to his. “tell me why you left, please.” his voice filled with a raw, aching honesty that make your heart drop.

your brain is racing at a thousand miles per hour, your pulse drumming in your ears. the connection between you two is palpable, undeniable. your hands go to the back of his head, tugging sightly his hair, making gojo groans. you breathe out his name, your lips just brushing against his “after the gala,” you murmur. “but let's go for now. we're running late.” you pull back but the heat remains. a pretty shade of pink creeps onto gojo's cheeks. the sight of it makes you smile.

you both reach the bottom of the stairs, and before you can move toward the door, gojo's voice calls out, low and filled with something close to mischief. “wait.”

you stop in your tracks, turning to look at him, and that playful smirk makes its comeback. he lifts your hands, then loosens his grip just enough to intertwine his fingers with yours. his eyes fixed on your face, watching for your reaction. “it's better like this,” he says, his voice mix of teasing and seriousness. “if we're playing couple, let's do it right,” he adds. you shake your head in disbelief, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “satoru, let's go now." he opens the door, the cold night air hitting your skin “i love when you call me saturo, sweetheart.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the streets blur past, neon lights casting fleeting glows over his sharp features as he drives through the city. Gojo insisted on being the one to drive, choosing one of his luxurious car— not without making a comment on how it'd be nearly impossible to ride your bike in that dress but he'd gladly let you ride him in that dress.

the ride is quiet. not the comfortable kind, but the charged, suffocating kind. you can feel his eyes flicking toward you between red lights.

the hotel appears, tall and grand, its golden lights illuminating the massive entrance. unlike when you came checking security, the driveway is packed with luxury cars, men in tailored suits, women in gowns worth small fortunes. there're even photographers lining the barricades, flashes firing like relentless lighting.

despite your superior's briefing, you still feel nervous. of course you have attented events like this before to protect your clients, but never were you the center of attention.

suddenly, dodging bullets in a batteflied seems far less stressful than whatever the hell this masquerade is. at least, the car windows are tinted, giving you some more minutes.

gojo feels you tense up as he stops in front of the entrance. he turns to you, bringing a hand to cup your face, tilting your chin so you meet his gaze. “it's okay, sweetheart," his thumb traces soft, reassuring circles on your cheek. “i'm with you. focus on the job, okay?” then, with an easy smile, he steps out of the car.

the moment he does, you hear people calling his name, cameras clicking furiously. and gojo being gojo, steps out with that infuriating confidence, adjusting his cufflinks like he owns the damn place. pretty fucking bastard

gojo makes his way to your door before the valet even moves. he opens it himself, hand extended, waiting. and you can feel this is not only for the show. you let out a sharp exhales, taking his hand to get out of the car.

the moment your heels hit the ground, the flashes explode even brighter, voices pitching higher, demanding your attention. gojo's fingers intertwine with yours—firm, possessive—as he pulls you closer, leaning down just enough so only you can hear. “wanted to let you know,” his breath tickling your ear “knowing what's under this dress is no helpful to hide my boner in front of these photographers.”

before you can react, he presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your temple. then with the smooth ease of a man who knows exactly what he's doing, he lifts your hand to his lips and plants the softest kiss against you knuckles. “also, don't forget to smile.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

inside, the gala is exactly what you expected— crystal chandeliers spilling molten gold over the sea of designer-clad elites, laughter too polished to be real, and conversations laced with unspoken agendas. the air is thick with expensive perfume and quit power plays.

gojo moves through it effortlessly, magnetic as ever. he plays the perfect host, flashing easy grins and exchanging pleasantries with people you couldn't care less about. you, on the other hand, remain sharp, scanning the room, keeping your senses on high alert.

or at least, you try.

it's hard to stay focused when you're super-aware of gojo's warmth. his palm resting low on your back, fingers tracing lazy, absentminded circles against your spine. his lips graze your temple as he leans in, voice low with some meaningless observation, but his breath is too warm, too deliberate. a shiver runs down your body.

the hours stretch on, an endless cycle of fake smiles and calculated small talk. the weight of the night starts pressing against your ribs, exhaustion creeping in. you need a moment.

“i'm getting us drinks,” you murmur, pulling away from gojo's touch, ignoring the way your body immediately protests the loss of warmth.

“how thoughtful of my wife” he teases, lips curling into something wicked. you almost fall to the floor, headfirst.

wife. the word comes too easily from his mouth, like it belongs there. you catch yourself liking it.

shaking off the heat starting to take over you, you weave through the crowd, reaching the refreshments table. your mind still lingers on gojo, your thoughts are full of him. you're convince you need him. you don't want to run anymore.

a shadow of a smile tugs at your lips.

when you turn back— two glasses of champagne in your hand— gojo is gone.

your pulse stumbles. your breath quickens, eyes scanning every corner, every exit. nothing. where the hell is he?

you shove the glasses onto the nearest table, ignoring the startled look of a waiter. your training urges you to stay calm, but panic claws at your throat. gojo isn't just your responsibility. he's—

focus.

you spot one of the security personnel near the ballroom's entrance, a stocky man with an earpiece and a sharp gaze. you stride toward him, voice low but urgent. “did you see gojo leave?” the man frowns slightly “he stepped out a few minutes ago. took the private elevator up.”

your stomach knots. “who was with him?”

“not sure. a few men. well-dressed.” fury spikes through you. 'and that didn't alarm you?' you could beat his ass off if it wasn't for gojo right now. where did they find those incompetent men.

spinning on your heel, you move fast, heart hammering. the gala's noise fades behind you as you push through the discreet hallway leading to the private elevators. the display shows it stopped on the roof.

your pulse spikes. you slam the button. nothing. locked.

“fuck” you mutter under your breath. you don't have time to wait. without hesitation, you head for the stairwell, heels be damned. you rip the gun from its hidden strap at your thigh and climb two steps at a time. the adrenaline burns away any exhaustion, pushing faster.

by the time you reach the the top, your breath is ragged. hand tight on your gun, you push the rooftop door open just enough to see—

and your blood turns to ice.

gojo stands near the edge, bathed in city lights, his white hair a stark contrast against the night. the wind howls between the buildings, the breeze fluttering his tie— the same shade of his eyes, the same shade of your dress.

his usual carefree stance betraying nothing, hands in his pocket like he's discussing business over whiskey rather than staring down the barrels of guns.

four men surround him. they're dressed too well to be common thugs, but you know better—real danger rarely looks the part. one of them, a broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar curving at the corner of his mouth, has his gun aimed directly at gojo's chest.

your grip tightens around your own gun.

and then gojo speaks. “i suggest you let me go,” he drawls, voice laced with amusement. “or my wife's going to rip you apart.” he smirks “also, we arranged we talk after the gala, to make things clear, i don't think she'd be very happy that you keep me for the night.”

the men exchange glances, unimpressed. scar-lips steps forward, a cruel smirk twisting his scar. “you're worth a lot, Satoru Gojo.” a ransom situation.

gojo pinches the bridge of his nose like they're giving him a headache. “look,” he starts, tilting his head slightly. “i don't know who sent you, but this is embarrassing. four of you? to handle me? if i were you, i'd start running before she gets pissed.”

they barely have a second to process his words before you make your move. you can't risk any longer. and gojo is doing perfectly at distracting them.

one breath. one shot.

you step out. aim. fire

the bullet buries itself into the shoulder of the man nearest gojo. he stumbles back with a pained grunt—

and gojo moves.

he moves faster then the wind whipping through the rooftop. in the time it takes for scar-lips to turn toward you, gojo there. a sickening crack echoes through the rooftop as gojo drives his elbow into the wide man's jaw with enough force to send him staggering. without pause, he pivots, driving a brutal kick into another's ribs. the crack is sickening.

you react instinctively, ducking behind an industrial vent as one of the men pulls a gun in your direction. another shot rings out— gojo's this time. he moves like liquid shadow, disarming one of the attackers with terrifying efficiency. the man barely has time to process that he's slammed into the ground.

scar-lips, despite his disoriented state, reaches for his gun again.

gojo doesn't let him. he's on him in a blink, gripping his wrist with an almost lazy ease before twisting it violently in the wrong direction. the man screams, his gun clattering to the floor. gojo doesn't let go. instead, he leans in, voice sickeningly sweet. “told you she'd be mad.”

you freeze. you've seen trained fighters. you are one. but this? this is something else. the speed, the precision, the sheer control— it's unsettling. suspicious.

the last man standing tries to flee, you take aim and fire a warning shot near his feet. he freezes, hands trembling in surrender.

the rooftop falls into silence, only the labored groans of the fallen men breaking the stillness. the adrenaline still surges through your veins as you lower your gun, stepping closer to gojo, who brushes nonexistent dust off his sleeve like he didn't juts annihilate four men in less than two minutes.

“you good?” he asks, eyes flickering over you, concern hidden beneath his usual playful tone. “i should be asking you that.”

“what? you think a couple of suits can take me down?” he winks, but there's something unreadable in his eyes. something he doesn't want you to see. you don't press. at least, not now.

instead, you step forward, pressing your heel into scar-lips' injured arm. he yelps “so, who sent you?” scar-lips stay still, unwilling to say anything.

the other men groan on the ground, the sting of their broken bones keeping them from trying anything stupid. gojo sighs as if he's bored. as if this whole thing is an inconvenience rather than a threat to his life. he reaches into his jacket, pulling out his phone.

“you know,” he hums, tapping the screen with a lazy smirk “i could call someone. but they wouldn't be as nice as she is.” he gestures at you with a tilt of his head, his tone light, but his eyes? glacial.

scar-lips doesn't flinch. you press down harder on his arm. “fuck! alright, alright!” gojo grins like you just made his night.

“contract” he grits out. “someone put a price on your head. it's big. too big to ignore.” gojo clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “that's vague. who?” scar-lips looks like he's debating wether answering is worth the consequences. “not local”

“international” you press. he nods, slowly. “someone wants you dead, gojo. badly. all we got was a time and place.” his gaze flicks up to you, sharp despite pain. "and instructions to take you too".

the air grows thick. “me?” the man on the floor exhales “whoever hired us knew you'd be with him. they want you alive.” something cold settles in your stomach. gojo, however, laughs. it's quiet, then louder, echoing against the rooftop.

scar-lips looks at him like he's lost his damn mind. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” gojo wipes at the corner of his eyes like he actually found that funny. “man, you guys must be new do you know how many times someone's tried to put me in a body bag?” he leans in closer, voice dripping lower. “and not one of them ever succeeded.” gojo nods toward you, lips quirking. “someone wants her alive? buddy, you should be more scared of that than anything else.”

you glance down, they want you alive. that means whoever put out this hit isn't just after gojo— they're after something he has. the implications make your blood runs cold. but you don't have time to dwell on it.

one of the men on the ground— one you thought was barely conscious— lunges.

it happens fast. too fast.

a blade glints under the rooftop lights, aiming straight for gojo's ribs.

your gun fires before you think. the gunshot rings out, echoing accross the night.

the man crumples.

scra-lips yells, trying to scrambles back, but gojo's hand shoot out, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him up. “i'd be annoyed if this wasn't so damn prediactable.” his voice has lost its amusement. it's cold now. deadly. “you made a big mistake touching what's mine.” gojo's fingers tighten. for a second, you think he'll kill him.

but instead, gojo sighs—a sound full of tiredness— and his grip loosens. “i'd love to drag this out, but we have a gala to return to,” he says, and with that, he lets go. the man collapses to the ground, coughing violently.

gojo steps over him like he's nothing more than a discarded piece of trash. he reaches for your hand, gently pulling you away. “someone's coming to pick you up.” he adds, his tone far too casual for what just happened “be grateful. i called someone to take care of you, buddies. i only do that to my special guests.”

he slams the rooftop door shut behind them with a sense of finality, cutting off the chaos that lingers in the air.

as you make your way down the stairs, you abruptly stop, questions swirling in your mind. “what's wrong?” gojo asks. you meet his gaze, searching his eyes, trying to figure out what he's hiding from you. he steps closer "you okay?” you should nod. should brush it off like you always do.

but you don't answer, and you feel the weight of silence settles between you. it's suffocating, you don't know how to break it. so you shake your head. you want to ask him why he hired you. why he needs you when he could've handled everything alone. you want to know if there's more to this—more to you—than just being his bodyguard. the questions burns at the back of your throat, but you swallow it down, afraid of what the answer might be.

gojo's hand pulls you from your spiraling thoughts, his touch gentle—like always when he touches you—making you gasp. his palm cups your cheeks. “hey.” his eyes are full of concern, worried. his tumb brushes over your cheek, a fleeting touch, as if he's trying to ground you. you're not sure if it's for your sake or his.

“you're acting weird,” he murmurs, tilting his head. your throat tightens. “and you're acting like this is normal.” a short laugh escapes him, not a single hint of humor in it. his grip on your face loosens, but he doesn't pull away. “what do you want me to say?”

“i want you to tell me why,” the words come out quieter than you intended, but no less desperate. “why hire someone to protect you?” something flickers in his gaze, quick enough that you almost miss it. his fingers twitch against your skin. “you really think i need a bodyguard?” the way he says it sounds wrong—too light, too easy.

“exactly. you don't." your voice is unwavering now, the certainty of it strengthening you. “not after i saw what you did tonight. the way you fought— it was effortless. you're better than any soldier i've ever seen.” you hesitate, the memory clicking into place. ”better than me.” and now that you think about it, you remember your punch he blocked that night, back at the gala preparations. the sheer force he used. you should have realized then.

gojo is quiet for a moment. then, finally, he sighs, letting his hand drop from your face. the loss of his warmth makes your chest ache. “i thought it'd be obvious by now,” he mutters, looking away.

it isn't.

it's not obvious at all. and the fact that he won't just say it outright makes your frustration curl tight in your chest.

you take a step back, shaking your head. “well, as you can see… it's not.” you cross your arms, the hurt leaking into your voice. gojo's head snaps back toward you, eyes narrowing. “you overthink too much.” you scoff, anger bubbling up despite your exhaustion. “then give me answers. if you did, i wouldn't have to.”

his jaw clenches, and for a second, you think he's going to throw out some flippant remark, something to brush this all under the rug like he always does.

but then—

he takes a step forward.

and another.

until there's barely any space left between you.

“maybe i don't want you to know,” he says, voice low, almost quiet to hear. the words send a sharp pang through you. he's never been this blunt before— not like this. “why?” you whisper, almost afraid to ask, but you need to go through this. together. “once you know, you won't look at me the same.”

your heart clenches at the quiet honesty in his voice.

“satoru," you murmur, refusing to back down, “you dressed me tonight. you brought me here as your date. you even called me your wife.” your voice shakes, but you keep going. “and i was scared to lose you tonight.” the words slip out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered, the weight of them hitting the space between you with unbearable force.

gojo stills. his breath is uneven, and his eyes—those brilliant blue eyes—widen just slightly. you close your own, exhaling shakily before continuing.

“i ran once. nine years ago.” your voice is barely a whisper now. “i was young. i was afraid. and it was a mistake.” his entire body tenses. “Satoru,” you open your eyes, meeting his. “i want you. all of you. and surprisingly, i'm willing to stay. to stand next to you. to kill for you if that's what it takes to keep you safe.” you pause, your voice thick with emotion. “i'm not afraid of threats. i don't want to run anymore.”

gojo looks wrecked. completely and utterly undone.

you step closer, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid, unsteady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “nothing you could ever say will change the way i see you.” your voice is firm “nothing.”

he swallows hard, his hands twitching at his sides like he doesn't know whether to pull you in or push you away— to protect you from people that would want to hurt you, only to hurt him.

but then— he breaks.

his arms wrap around you, crushing you to him, his grip almost desperate. his forehead drops to your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. and for the first time, gojo satoru—the untouchable, unshakable man— trembles.

“making me go through all that," he says against your hair, "being irrefutable with me and letting me beat the hell out of four men—" his fingers gripping the fabric of your clothes like he's terrified you'll disappear. “it took you all that to finally tell me what's on your heart?”

you let out a watery laugh, wrapping your arms around him just as tightly “i'm sorry.” he lets out a shaky breath, his lips brushing your temple. “stay,” it's not a command, not a plea— just a confession. you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into his warmth, into the way he holds you like he's never wanted anything more. “i'm not going anywhere.”

and just like that, nothing else matters.

the gala, the stares, the whispers— none of it exists as you slip out through the back entrance, hands locked together, ignoring the world you're leaving behind.

gojo doesn't let go.

not even when he open the car door for you, not even when he slides into the driver's seat. his hand stays on your thigh, fingers warm and steady, tracing idle patterns against your skin. every red light is an excuse— an excuse to lift your hand to his lips, pressing slow, deliberate kisses on your knuckles, the pads of your fingers, the inside of you wrist.

you shiver, watching him through lidded eyes. “you're being soft.” gojo hums, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. “you love it, don't you?” and you don't deny it.

the drive is quiet, heavy with something unspoken. when he pulls up in front of his house, fingers still tracing slow, burning circles on you thigh, the weight of earlier comes crashing back. you shift in your seat, eyes flicking toward him.

“what were you going to say earlier?” his hand pauses for just a second— just long enough for you to notice. then, instead of answering, he leans in, his breath hitting your jaw as his lips ghost over your skin. “you really want to talk about that right now?”

the air is charged, thick with frustration and need. his lips press against the corner of your mouth— featherlight, teasing, but you can feel the restraint in the way his fingers grip your thigh. you tilt your head, giving him more access as a sigh leave your lips. “i need to know.”

gojo groans, low and deep. his hands move— one sliding up higher up your thigh, the other tangling in your hair as he pulls you toward him, his lips finally crashing against yours.

the kiss is messy, heated, all tongue and teeth and pent-up frustration. you don't even remember shifting onto his lap, only that his hands are on your hips, gripping tight enough to leave marks. his breath is ragged when he pulls back, forehead pressed against yours. your lipstick stains his lips, smudged, messy, sinful.

“you really wanna do this now?” his voice is rough, uneven. his fingers slip beneath your dress, brushing against your bare skin. “because if i start talking now, i won't stop. and i'd rather have you like this, falling apart in my hands. or my tongue. begging for more.”

your pulse is wild, but you don't back down. “satoru.” you lift a hand, softly wiping the lipstick from his lips. “tell me.” his sigh is one of defeat, his head falling back on the headrest. “i didn't hire you to protect me.” his voice is quieter now, raw in a way you've never heard before. “i hired you because i wanted you close.”

your breath catches. gojo chuckles, but there's no humor in it. “you ran from me nine years ago,” he presses open-mouthed kisses along your neck— wet, lingering. “did you really think i was going to let you do it again?”

your eyes burn with emotions— ones you don't have time to process because gojo's lips trail lower, his tongue flicking out, teasing, tasting. "being an influential young man got me some enemies. I had to know how to fight like a soldier— if not better. as the years went by, I became even more influential. and with some quick calls, I was able to find you."

“i don't think i deserve you, gojo.” the words spill out, breathless. gojo clicks his tongue, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. his hands frame your face “sweetheart,” his voice barely above a whisper “let's go inside,” his teeth graze your skin “i'm going to show you just how much you deserve me.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you barely step through the threshold before gojo's hands are on you again, pushing you against the wall. his kiss is devastating, all-consuming, a plea and a demand in one. his hands roam, sliding down your sides, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, like he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers again.

“you're killing me,” he groans, voice hoarse, “i need you. need to taste you.” your dress is barely hanging on, undone but still covering you like some cruel temptation, and that makes it worse for him. he doesn't pull it off— not yet. his fingers skim the fabric, then push it up, bunching around your waist. that's when he sees them.

your light blue panties— delicate, sheer, adorned with tiny pearls. the one he meticulously chose for you earlier. he fucking loses it at the sight.

“sweetheart.” his voice shatters, his breath stuttering as his thumb brushed the pearls, the fabric already damp. a pretty little thing wrapped up so nicely just for him. his hands shake when he presses his palm flat against your cunt, cupping you through the soaked fabric. “you're so wet. you wanted me this bad?”

you whimper, nodding, your knees already weak.

he drops to his knees so fast it's almost embarrassing. he doesn't even push your panties aside right away. instead, he leans in, kissing up your thighs— not just to tease, but to worship. his lips press against every scar, every mark, each one a silent promise. “my pretty strong girl,” he murmurs, his fingers squeezing your legs. “i will take care of them later.”

“satoru—”

his mouth finds the inside of your thigh first, biting down hard enough to make you whimper before soothing the mark with his tongue. then finally, finally, his mouth is on you. a hot, wet, messy kiss pressed right against your cunt, sucking you through the fabric of your panties. you gasp for air, your hands tightening on his white hair, earning a moan from him, an actual moan.

his tongue pressed flat against your cunt, teasing you through the pearls and lace. you gasp, body jolting, thighs trying to squeeze together, but he won't let you. his strong hands hold you open, force you to take it.

“f-fuck—" you breathe, fingers diving into his hair.

gojo grinds his face into your pussy like a possessed man. “god, you taste sweet even through this,” he slurs, drunk on it, his voice muffled. “missed having my mouth on you.”

his tongue dragged over the fabric, lapping, teasing, sucking, his fingers slipping underneath to pull them to the side. “Gojo—” your head slams back against the wall.

he didn't let you finish as he spreads your pussy open with his thumbs and buried his face between right into your core, eating you out like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else. like he needed to prove something.

it's sloppy, desperate, obscene.

he's licking into you with long, deep strokes, his nose bumping against your clit. his fingers dug into your ass, yanking you closer, forcing you to grind against his mouth, fucking his tongue with every rool of your hips.

“t-too much—” your body is trembling.

“been too long, huh? missed me eating your pretty little pussy?” sliding his tongue down to fuck into you, groaning when you clenched around him. you were so wet, so fucking wet, dripping down his chin as he worked you over, puling moans out of you that made his cock throb painfully against his zipper.

his arms wrap around your waist, locking you in place, forcing you to take everything he gives. his moans vibrate against your skin, needy, delirious, he's getting off on this as much as you are. “taste so fucking sweet,” his voice is muffled by your heat. “could stay down here forever.” he doesn't stop, doesn't let up— not even when your thighs squeeze around his head, when you're shaking so hard you can barely breathe.

your body locks up, pleasure tightening, so close it hurts. his fingers dig into your flesh, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking just right, and that's all it takes— you break apart with a cry, shuddering, coming all over his tongue.

gojo groans like he's tasting something forbidden, something addictive, lapping it all up, refusing to let a single drop go to waste.

by the time he pulls away, his lips and chin are glistening, his pupils blown wide, his chest rising and falling like he just ran miles. your dress is still on, but your panties are pushed to the side, and gojo is a wrecked mess between your legs, staring at you like he's ready to die for you.

“come here.” you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a flithy desperate kiss. his hands scrambled to get his belt open, shaking so badly he barely undo it. “l-let me help,” you whisper, your hands brushing his as you pull his belt free, undoing his zipper. “i want to make it up to you” you look at him in the eyes “for running away.” your hands slide over his thighs, palming the thick outline of him through his pants. he's already rock-hard. gojo let out a pathetic whimper. “s-shit, you don't have to—”

the second you slide down his boxers, his cock slaps against his stomach, thick, flushed, dripping. “f-fuck—” he lets out when your hand wraps around him. he's so hard it must be painful, a bead of precum leaking from the flushed tip.

you dropped to your knees and looking up at him through your lashes “i need to, satoru”

gojo chokes “fuck— yeah, please—” with nothing more you took him in your mouth. his hands immediately flying to your hair, not pulling, just holding, like he needs something to ground himself

his entire body jerked as your tongue drags up his length, flicking over the tip before you sink down, taking him deep. tongue pressing against the thick vein running along his dick. you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head, your hand stroking the rest of him. it's slick and obscene, the sounds echoing in the hallway. your lips stretched around him.

“f-fuck— sweetheart,” gojo is a mess above you. a whimpering, panting mess. his thighs tensed, his whole body shudders. “fuck, f-fuck— too good, it's too fucking g-good—” he wants you to let you continue. he wants to watch you take him apart.

but he wants to feel you. it's been nine long years for fuck sake. he just needs your pretty little cunt wrapping around his cock. “i-if you don't stop— shit— if you d-don't stop r-right n-now, i'm gonna—” he grabs your wrists, and you pulled off with a sinful pop, lips swollen, eyes gleaming.

“bed. now.”

except… you don't make it to the bed…

you get as far as the couch before you're shoving him down, straddling his lap, gripping his shoulders. his cock is still out, flushed, leaking, twitching against his stomach. and your soaked panties are still on, pulled to the side, teasing him.

“reverse cowgirl.” you say, full of tease. his brain short-circuits. “w-what?” you don't answer. you just move, shift until your back is to him. you give him a full view on the open dress, the curves of your body, the barest glimpse of your soaked panties sill clinging to your folds.

“oh, fuck— ohhh fuck.” his head drops back against the couch. his hands finding your waist as you took his base and let your hips ever so slowly sink down.

you both are drowning. “t-toru— ahh, ‘s big—” your voice breaks. you forgot how fucking big he is. surely the biggest cock you’ve ever took. “th-that's okay, s-sweetheart,” gojo is hardly holding on, shaking beneath you. “you're d-doing good— fuck— your walls are sucking me i-in. i— fuckfuckfuck—”

inch by inch, you take him, stretching, gasping, feeling him pulse inside you.

sweat drips down your back. gojo leans in, licks it up. and then—

he loses his patience.

he grabs your hips, slams you down, and fuck, you both scream. his fingers are bruising, his breath wrecked against your spine, and you're already a trembling, cock-drunk mess in his lap. “t-toru— please—”

“shhh, sweetheart,” he pants, barely coherent. “let me make you mine again.”

he drags you down onto him, thrusting up to meet you, filling you so deep you can feel him in your stomach. “ohhh— fuuuck, toru—” your hands scrambling for purchase against the couch as you rock back against him.

“that's right, sweetheart,” his forehead pressed against your bare spine. “take me— please, take all of me.” he pulls you back onto him harder, a desperate, needy little sound escaping his throat when he sees the way your pretty blue panties cling to you, your pussy stretched around the base of his cock, underwear soaked. “s-shit, your panties— fuck, that's so—” gojo can't even finish his sentence. his hands slip under your dress, his fingers finding your hard nipples and pinches them through your bra.

“satoru, i—” you sob, rolling your hips, grinding down. “that's it, ride me,” he begs, his hands palming your soft breasts. “you feel so fucking good, s-so tight—” you lift your hips just to slam back down, picking up a rhythm, and gojo loses his fucking mind. his moans spilling out in rapid desperate gasps. “fuck, baby—”

his length throbs inside you, his hips bucking up uncontrollably. he grabs at you, at your dress, your thighs, anywhere he can touch, his lips pressing frantic, open-mouthed kisses along your back.

“d-don't stop— please— ohh f-fuck, please don't stop—” he sounds so ruined, so completely fucking gone.

somehow you grind down even harder, sending the poor guy's body jolting. he's straight-up choking, his moans turn high-pitched, pathetic, whimpering. “sweetheart, i-i can't— oh fuck, i'm gonna—” his voice breaks, shaking “i can't hold it— i can't, i can't—”

you lean back against his chest, turning just enough to catch the sight of him— his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth parted, his entire body trembling beneath you. “t-toru,” you whimper, tightening around him. “cum for me.”

that's it. that's all it takes.

Gojo slams you down onto him one last time, a ragged, broken cry ripping from his throat. His cock pulses deep inside you, his grip on you almost bruising as he spills into you, moaning like he’s coming apart at the seams. his chest rising and falling erratically, his entire body completely ruined.

and even as the pleasure fades, he doesn't let go. “you're mine. not letting you go again.” he doesn't give you time to respond as he suddenly grabs your wrists, shoving you face-down into the couch. “but that doesn't mean i'm done with you.” his body is still trembling, his cock still throbbing inside you, slick with both of your release.

“one round isn't enough,” heavy voice in your ear. he rolls his hips once, slow and deep, dragging his dick through the mess he's made of you.

your whimper is swallowed by the cushions, fingers clawing at the fabric as he strats moving again. his pace is slow at first, torturous, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open again. then he pulls out almost completely—just the tip remained inside— before slamming back in, so deep your vision blurs.

“mhhh— satoru!” the force of it knocks the breath out of you, makes you choke on your own moan. his hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your back, fisting your hair.

“look at you, sweetheart,” he pants, voice slurred, filthy. “so wet—so messy—fuck, listen to yourself.” and oh, you can hear it. the lewd, obscene squelching of your cunt sucking him back in with every thrust. it's dripping down your thighs, coating his cock, soaking the couch beneath you.

“s'dripping” he groans, pulling out just to watch the way your hole clenches, fluttering around nothing. your slick mixed with his cum spills out. glistening, pooling between your legs. “fucking— shit” he grits his teeth, fisting his cock, slapping it against your swollen cunt. “such a pretty mess."

“p-please,” you sob, wiggling your hips, trying to push back against him. you're so sensitive, already teetering on the edge again. “please what?” his grip tightens in your hair, yanking your head back so his lips brush your ear. “use your words, sweetheart. beg for it.” your brain is mush, squirming beneath him, but you give him what he wants.

“please— please, t-toru fuck me— use me. w-want you s-so bad— need you so bad—” his breath shudders “you're so hot,”

and he slams back into you, deeper, harder, faster. you scream, your arms giving out as he fucks you into the cushions. his pace is wild, frantic, desperate— his cock found your g-spot. hitting it over and over again. until you're body is nothing but raw nerves and white-hot pleasure.

“y-you like this?” gojo struggles finding his breathe, sweat dripping down his temple. “like getting fucked stupid? like being ruined?” you can't even speak— just babbling his name.

“sweetheart, im not gonna last— fuck, i wanna feel you cum again, i need to feel it—” he moans, he swears your cunt was made perfectly for him and only him. one hand slipping between your legs, fingers rubbing at your clit in messy, quick circles.

“come on— cum on my cock, wanna feel your cum all over me,” your whole body seizes, pleasure ripping through you so hard you think you black out for a second. you scream his name, back arching, legs shaking, walls clenching tight around him he nearly collapses. “ohh— ohhh ‘s gooood— wrapping around my cock aghn,”

his hips snap forward, his voice breaking as he lets out white long hot creams. he cums so much, it leaks out around his dick— balls.

for a moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing, the lewd, sticky wetness between your legs, the faint creak of the couch beneath you. gojo breaks it with a breathless, shaky laugh. “you're a fucking dream,” he mumbles, pressing lazy, wet kisses to your shoulder. his arms wrapped tight around your waist.

“satoru…” you whisper his name, running your fingers through his damp hair. he exhales and lifts you into his arms. he carries you like you're something sacred, irreplaceable. something he'll never allow to slip through his fingers again.

"bedroom," he murmurs against your temple. “i need to love you properly.” your breath catches, a lump forming in your throat. this is different. you wrap your arms around him as he carries you through the dimly lit house, his body still inside yours, still pulsing, still clinging to every last bit of warmth you give him.

tonight, he took you like he was desperate. like he had something to prove, like he needed to reclaim you after all these years apart. but now…

now he's looking at you like you hung the stars in his sky.

when he lays you down on his bed, it feels like the world stops. like you both exist in your own universe. gojo hovers over you, his hands tracing over every inch of you. he maps your body with his touch, memorizes you with his lips, presses soft, reverent kisses over your skin.

and he pauses when he reaches your scars. trembling hands ghost over them, his expression unreadable. his eyes, impossibly blue even in the dim light, flicker up to yours. his fingertips linger on your scars, tracing them so gently it make your breath hitch.

“nine years,” his lips press over each mark, worshipping. “nine agonizingly years without you.” your chest aches. you cup his face, wiping the single tear coming down his cheek with your thumb. gojo closes his eyes, leaning into your touch like he needs it to breathe. “you don't get it.” murmuring it more to himself than you.

he looks down at you like you're everything. like he doesn't believe you're real.

you don't get a chance to respond before he's kissing you—slow, deep. it's not just hunger, not just lust. it's grief, it's relief, it's the kind of love that breaks you open and remakes you all at once.

when he finally pushes into you, it's not desperate. it's deliberate— he's trying to mold himself to you, he wants to leave an imprint of himself inside you forever. “satoru—”

“i know, sweetheart,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, your neck, your collarbone. “let me love you.”

you do. you let him take his time. let him move in deep, slow thrusts that leave you breathless. let him pull every last moan from your lips until your nails dig into his back. his name falls from your lips like a prayer, over and over again.

“feel that?” satoru takes your chin in his hand, making you look at him. “feel how deep i am? how i'm filling you up?” there's no rush, just the overwhelming feeling of being connected— having each other the way you were always meant to.

“toru, please,” you gasp into his mouth. “i've got you,” he mutters, nose brushing against yours. his fingers lace through yours, pinning your hands above your head, your legs wrapping around his waist, your body arching into him.

“you're everything,” he whispers. “you always were.” your chest tightens, you feel yourself shatters as heat coils in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter.

you're so full of him, of love, of longing, of everything you've spent nine years trying to ignore.

“i love you,” and it sets something free inside you.

gojo chokes on his breath. his rhythm stutters. his fingers tighten around yours. his lips tremble against your skin. “say it again,” he begs.

“i love you, Satoru.” his hips snap into you harder, pace remaining slow as if he's trying to commit every part of you to memory. “say it again, sweetheart.”

“i love you—” his body tenses, his release crashing over him at the same time you hit yours. his lips find yours as you both shatter together.

when he collapses on top of you, he doesn't let go. doesn't even try. you're still tangled together, still connected when he speaks. “i was serious,” you hum, sleepy, completely boneless in his arms. “about what?” his fingers stroke over your hip. “about calling you my wife.”

you tilt your head, searching his face. he's looking at you like you're his entire world. he's never been more sure of anything in his life. “i don't just want you here tonight,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. “i want you here forever.”

tears sting your eyes, but you smile, brushing his hair out of his face. “then start calling me that now, satoru.” gojo grins— that beautiful, bright, devastating grin.

“come here, wife.”

( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

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serenityluvz · 4 hours ago

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riding enha till they’re overstimulated ?? 👀👀

⋆𐙚₊˚ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸᴸᵘᵛᶻ

Heeseung – “F-Fuck, baby… I c-can’t—”

Heeseung thrives on control, but right now? He has none. His head is thrown back against the pillows, sweat dripping down his temple as you ride him into oblivion. His fingers dig into your waist, his body trembling beneath you. "Shit—t-too much," he gasps, his voice wrecked, but his hips keep meeting yours, desperate for more. His body betrays him, chest heaving as pleasure sparks through his veins. Heeseung is begging—whether it’s for you to stop or to keep going, even he doesn’t know. But the way his hands tighten around your waist tells you exactly what he wants. "F-Fuck it," he chokes out, his grip bruising. "You wanna break me, baby? Do it. I’m all yours."

Jay – “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Jay isn’t sure if he wants to ruin you or if you’ve ruined him. His jaw clenches, hands gripping your hips so tight he’s sure they’ll leave bruises. His head spins from the overstimulation, body jerking with each slow, torturous roll of your hips. "F-Fucking hell," he growls, voice shaking. "You—fuck—you’re insane." You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear. "Then tell me to stop." His breath hitches. His hands flex. But he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he grins, chest rising and falling rapidly. "No way in hell." And just like that, you lose the game you thought you were winning.

Jake – “B-Baby, please… I c-can’t—oh, f-fuck.”

Jake is a mess. His body shakes beneath you, his hands grasping for anything—your thighs, the sheets, his own hair—as you push him past his limit. His skin is hot, slick with sweat, lips parted as he struggles to catch his breath. "P-Please," he whimpers, but you don’t stop. You won’t stop. His head thrashes against the pillow, chest rising in sharp, ragged breaths as pleasure crashes over him again. His voice cracks on a moan so wrecked, you swear it’s the hottest sound you’ve ever heard. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes as he trembles, his body betraying him, giving you everything. "You’re gonna kill me, baby," he gasps, voice barely there. "But what a way to go."

Sunghoon – “You’re f-fucking evil.”

Sunghoon is so close to tapping out. His whole body is twitching, his head thrown back, jaw clenched so tight it aches. His fingers dig into the sheets, his body a slave to the pleasure you’re forcing on him. "H-Holy shit," he gasps, his thighs trembling beneath you. "I c-can’t—fuck—" You smirk, dragging your nails down his chest. "Oh? The ice prince can’t handle it?" His head snaps up, eyes blazing despite the wrecked look on his face. "F-Fuck you," he pants. You grind down harder, and a broken moan rips from his throat. His glare falters, his body shuddering. He’s so close to giving in, to letting you completely destroy him. And judging by the way his fingers dig into your hips, he loves it.

Jungwon – “N-No, baby—f-fuck—wait—”

Jungwon never loses control. But right now? You have him on the edge of tears. His thighs are trembling beneath you, his hands gripping your waist like a lifeline. His face is flushed, sweat dripping down his chest as he bucks up helplessly beneath you. "B-Baby, I—" His voice breaks, his breath hitching as his body jerks. You don’t stop. Not when he gasps, not when his fingers tighten, not when his head falls back, exposing his throat. "S-So good," he chokes out, voice wrecked. And just like that, you own him.

Sunoo – “Oh, you’re gonna regret this.”

Sunoo is shaking. His hands clutch at the sheets, his head thrown back as you ride him through his undoing. His mouth falls open, a broken moan escaping his lips, his body betraying him completely. "T-Too much," he stammers, his voice thin. But you just grin. "Too much? Or just enough?" His eyes snap open, and suddenly, he’s grinning back. "Ohhh, baby," he breathes, his hands tightening on your hips. "You really shouldn’t have done that." And just like that, the game shifts. Because Sunoo? He never loses.

Ni-ki – “I’m gonna fucking die.”

Ni-ki is done. His body trembles beneath you, his fingers shaking as he grips your thighs. His lips are parted, breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps as you ruin him. "F-Fuck—oh my—h-holy shit," he whimpers, his entire body twitching. You smirk, leaning down to whisper, "Gonna cry for me, baby?" His breath catches. His thighs tremble. His fingers dig into your skin. And when he finally falls over the edge, his entire body convulses beneath you. Tears slip from the corner of his eyes as he gasps, chest heaving, completely and utterly wrecked. And the best part?You’re not done yet.

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angstandhappiness · 3 hours ago

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Interesting!

To be honest I am a huge Nalu shipper. But the thing is I want to know the difference between the way Natsu cares about his guildmates and Lucy. Like what is the obvious difference since that boy sees every as Nakama so how can we say that the wag he cares about Lucy is different?

Like even when Erza passed away? (All the way back in first season there was a segment where the guild was gathered at her grave and all) Natsu was still very reactive. Plus he was also said to be depressed even when Lisanna passed.

What's the difference between all of them and Lucy?

the fact that he stayed. the fact that before he met Lucy, Natsu wasn't one to stay in a group or even want to work with anyone besides Happy at the start of the story. hell, he was ready to just file Lucy down as "New Guildmate" once they reached Fairy Tail

but then, Lucy doesn't leave. she follows him on his mission to save Macao despite her not needing to or even really understanding everything about it. she stays and then fights with him and saves him. it's no secret that Natsu is strong and can take care of himself really well. he's been going on solo missions for years now, and no one has really stopped him, but that means he's been in a lot of sticky situations where he and Happy are on their own and have no backup. and yet, without asking, Lucy offers it

and i think this is the moment when Natsu considers that maybe it's okay to have someone there to have his back (sans Happy)

"but Natsu only needed Lucy for the next quest because of the requirements," well, Natsu also wouldn't have taken or even considered that quest if it weren't for Lucy, yeah? he was not a team player (in the picking job's sense) or really wanted other people to help him on his quests sans Happy. and then he goes and picks a job that caters to their team whilst ensuring that Lucy can't say no

or maybe i'm reading too much into it 🤷🏻‍♀️

or maybe Natsu's got horrible abandonment issues that he will latch onto people so fast (Igneel & Lisanna) but also cause him to distance himself so far when left behind (his 1st time at the guild, Lisanna's death). Erza and Gray are Natsu's closet friends after Lisanna and yet they cannot reach him when he closes himself off. and then we have Lucy, who stuck by and had his back, so who is to say Natsu didn't make some contingencies to ensure whether or not she'd join him?

but maybe it's the rose, colored ship glasses i have on

because yeah, Natsu cares for all of his guildmates. the power of friendship is his biggest motivator. when we meet Natsu, our first introductions of him is defending his guild's reputation from Bora (who was using it as a guise for human trafficking) and saving Macao. and our 1st big arc (Galuna Island), where Natsu adamantly refuses to allow Gray to use Ice Shell and sacrifice himself despite how antagonistic they've been to each other. we get Natsu 100% at Erza's defense throughout the Tower of Heaven and he is even ready to defend Wendy though they only met hours ago

Natsu is a character with a bleeding heart and cannot help but wear it on his sleeve, but we don't really see him allow others to fight his battles or have his back until Lucy comes in. to be honest, i don't even think he had his heart on his sleeve until Lucy. he still has a bleeding heart (i don't think anything could stop that), but he was not ready to be open in receiving company because he was so used to it being ripped away from him

that being said: of all the characters he interacts with, he finds Lucy to be someone compatible enough for him to start going on team missions and inviting her on them (for example, his 1st S-class mission, which he stole, he went to her house to show it to her. the fact that part of the reward was a celestial key might be a coincidence, but i wouldn't doubt it as Natsu and Happy's trump card in case she refused)

but yeah, the difference is that he stayed and didn't push her away at the beginning, but instead continued to invite her along with him to the point that doing a mission without Lucy wasn't his regular anymore. compared to the rest of the guild, of whom he spent most of his childhood with, even if he spoke to no one, they would still be around and talk to him anyway. he might not invite them on job and only challenge them to fights, but the guild is his home and a constant in his life, a constant he needs (bc heavy abandonment issues).

"okay, but he still pushed her away after he watched Igneel die right in front of him. and he left the guild for a whole year, too. so what's the difference there?" you may ask.

so 1) Natsu never thought the guild would disband. he returns to Fiore after a year and is the last to know that they disbanded. he assumed, like all the other times before and while he and others were sealed for 7 years, that Fairy Tail would still be there when he returned. he assumed that his disappearance would not impact so hard because the guild would still be around and Lucy would have the others with her

which, did not happen :)

and like, so many guild members go off on jobs, quests, or even just leave for an indiscriminate amount of time (which i, personally, believe was his rationality for leaving), so him being gone for a year was nothing! right? no harm, eh? his plan was never to be gone forever :))))

2) he just watched his father die and lose any chance of having some semblance of a long term reunion with Igneel. he literally lost one of his main driving motivations for getting stronger and taking jobs. before Fairy Tail, before anyone, it was Igneel. and to learn that a) Igneel was always with him to begin with and b) he only got to see him for less than a day after 14 years of nothing......i would feel lost too ngl

man's needed space from everybody. and he also needed comfort, but Natsu has been shown not to really be the character who asks to receive comfort (and when he does receive it, it's usually when he's already emotionally compromised). he is in the habit of shutting people out after being abandoned or losing someone close to him, with his next rationale being to "get stronger" in order to prevent what happened in the past to ever happen in the future.

anyway

what makes this different? well for one, he sent the letter only to Lucy (or it's implied since no one else is shown getting one) because of how the two spend most of their time together. even the line that goes with the panel makes it sound like Natsu is unsure on how the note will be received (maybe even hesitant? but that could be my own hopes)

and one of the 1st people he reunites with after a year is Lucy and we get such a similar parallel to the first chapter of Fairy Tail between the two as if the narrative itself is slotting them together to say "ah yes, now everything is back to normal and new journeys can begin"

but yeah, this is just a long way of saying, that Natsu does love his friends and guildmates but even when he is close to them, he kept to himself (and Happy) and sort of stayed in their orbit but always with some emotional distance because of his fear of abandonment. and then you have Lucy where he will stay for and allow her to orbit around him and he will invite to new adventures no questions asked

that's the difference

#this is 100% unrelated but reading the older chapters had me realize how Cana's hair is a lot curlier than in the anime #my girlie's waves got straightened T^T and they were so gorgeous too #also love the translator's notes at the end of each volume <3 #fill me with so much joy and why they chose to go in what direction for each translation #this post is longer than i thought oops #like i was gonna leave it at 'bc Natsu stayed for her' and then be done #but no i can't just leave it there and not back it up #also me saying Natsu stayed for Lucy is not me trying to undermine his other relationships in the guild #Natsu's bonds with Fairy Tail are the very core of this story so to say that he loved any of his guildmates less would not be right #his love for Lucy is different #it started the same but shifted as the arcs progressed #his priorities with her are different than they are with his friends and guildmates despite being on a fairly even level #fun fact! i started writing this 6 hours ago. had class. got distracted w/ old ft plot while searching for manga panels. and now we're here #btw: this is not excusing Natsu's act of leaving without so much of a warning. this is just explaining his personal rationale and emotions.#ofc Lucy was right to feel upset and betrayed for being left behind by Natsu and then to be alone bc the guild disbanded. i would too!#but we aren't talking about that. we're talking about what makes Natsu's feelings for Lucy different from the rest of the guild #also sorry i got a little lazy with the manga panels after the first couple T^T and mayhaps distracted (rereading Igneel's death is sO fun!#fairy tail #natsu dragneel #nalu #ft meta #also like how natsu loves is very open and through action #no matter whether its familial or platonic or romantic #how he shows it is the same fierce protectiveness and attentiveness #personally i see natsu's love being in equal fervor for all. none really trump over the other. they're just different #addition +#fairy readmore #fairy meta #readmore +#fairy tail nalu

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night-night-stories-before-bed · 2 days ago

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The window is always open

Warning ⚠️; None, just fluff and fatherhood

Pairing; None, Damian Wayne & Gn!Vigilante!Reader (Father figure$

Summary; You always leave your window open in case one the batkids would need to come in for emergencies. Yet, Damian use it all the time.

Credit @cafekitsune

Note; my doctor scare the living shit out of me, so I wrote this to calm me down.

Note 2; I’m dying, wtf was that bug? Why did a part of a draft updates here??? I am so sorry y'all! I do not know how that happened honestly 😂

You stood in front of your door, hand on the doorknob, knowing something was amiss. You frowned and listened attentively. You heard a soft sound, like little footsteps, from your kitchen which made you relax as you knew who it was. You unlocked the door and got inside, taking off your coat and boots.

- “Damian, I thought we spoke about it already. The window is open but only for emergencies and I doubt stealing my take-out fall in that category,” you gently scolded as you entered your kitchen.

You switched the lights on and crossed your arms staring at the teen as he hate your take-out. Damian stared back at you, not giving a single fuck.

- “Nah, but avoiding an angry Bruce,” Damian replied and you sighed.

- “What did you do this time?” You asked, leaning your shoulder against the wall.

Damian rolled his eyes and offered you no reply. You sighed and went to make you some food, giving some to the kid to decide whether or not to tell you why he ended up running away from his father. But Damian said nothing as long as you cooked, not even as you sat down.

You ate in silence, eyeing Damian up and down. No bruised, no injuries and no signs of him being hurt. So why was Bruce angry after his son? At some points the sound of a notification caught your attention and you knew who it was before looking at it. Bruce was asking you if Damian was at your place and you reassured him that he was and to not come, that Damian was sleeping here.

The bat left you on read.

Yeah, that wasn't good.

- “Bruce ain't coming to get me, right?” Damian asked with a small voice and you shook your head.

- “Nah, I told him to not come and that you were sleeping at my place tonight. I’ll take you to school in the morning, don’t worry,” you reassured Damian and he nodded at that.

You two finished eating in silence and cleaned the dishes before you sat back down and helped Damian with his homework. Not that he needed help but he did need the company you realized and you couldn't bear the silence anymore. So, homework it was.

You were glad to be out of school, the new subjects seemingly more boring than they were in your time, and somewhat harder. Maybe it was the wording, you thought.

Before you realize it, they were done and you allowed Damian to watch the TV with you for a while. You knew he wouldn't sleep anyway, so where was the harm?

The teen picked a series you ignored all about and, just for you, played it from the start. You enjoyed listening to Damian explaining what was going on when things confused you, the series was clearly one of his favourite subjects and you wondered if he had no one to talk with about it. It wasn't long before Damian ended up snuggling against your side, tucked under his blanket, slowly dozing off. You wrapped an arm around his frail shoulders and he sighed.

- “We got into an altercation, with Bruce I mean, and it’s my fault,” Damian ended up admitting as he yawned. “I think he want to send me back to my mother.”

- “Oh, Damian, don’t be say that. Your father love you very deeply, he just sat on a stick and never got it out,” you replied, passing your fingers through his hair. “Besides, you really think I would allow him to send you away like that? He’ll have to fight me before being able to take you to the airport,” you tried to reassure him and Damian snorted.

- “He’ll kick your ass,” he pointed out, sighing and closing his eyes.

- “Bolt of you to assume he’ll win. I too have contingency plans!” you declared with a smile.

Damian chuckled at that and his hand found your shirt. You looked down and watched as he clenched his fist tight on the fabric as if he feared you would disappear. You pulled him closer to you, stroking his shoulder.

- “I promise sweety, Bruce is not going to send you away,” you swore and Damian buried his face against your side.

- “But I… disobeyed. I went out alone without him and I told him I hated him. Why would he keep me?” Damian asked with a little voice and it broke your heart.

- “Damian, your father love you and he heard way worse from Jason, Dick and even Tim. Trust me, his only thoughts must be that you are getting “into that age”, and I bet he wasn't angry, but scared. I would have snapped too knowing you went alone playing vigilante. You know how dangerous Gotham can be,” you scolded him and Damian groaned.

You hoped you understood what you didn't say; Bruce had lost Jason once, the scar hadn't healed even if Jason was back from the dead. It wasn't hard to see he was terrified the same thing would happen to his actual son.

- “C’mon, you’ll see. Tomorrow Bruce would have calmed down and you two can speak. Before long you’ll be laughing about tonight,” you promised and Damian said nothing.

Against you, you felt the teen relax, his body going limp against you and his breath became deeper. You smiled, realizing Damian was succumbing to exhaustion. You pulled his blanket higher, wrapping it correctly around him. You leaned down and kissed his hair, wishing Damian a good night with a smile, knowing he would be fine once morning came.

#male reader #x reader #x male reader #fanfic #reader #writeblr #writers #x gn reader #gn reader #dcu #dc comics #damian wayne

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persephone-writes · 2 days ago

Text

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Hourglass

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Twenty-Two ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: You try your best to help Sirius with his brother, even if it means trusting your abilities in Divination more than ever before.

Word Count: 7.9k

You were unable to find Sirius, at least while you were in Hogsmeade. After a few hours meandering around the village with only a vague interest in the shops, James, Peter, and Remus went back to the Three Broomsticks to see if Sirius was drowning his sorrows in butterbeer…or a half dozen shots of firewhiskey. You and Lily split up to check the shrieking shack, however unlikely it may be that he would go there of all places, and Marlene and Dorcas walked the streets as a last ditch effort. None of you were able to locate him.

With a dark cloud hanging over your heads, you all left Hogsmeade in the early evening before dinner, your steps slow and dragging down the path towards the castle. As she had done while you searched the shack, Lily tried to look on the bright side of things.

“It’s probably a good sign we haven’t found him. It means he’s probably still with his brother.”

James, whose hands were shoved into his pockets and his head hung, lifted his face for a second, his eyes finding hers. “Or it went badly and he's gone to hide.”

“Do you really think Regulus would attack him?” Marlene asked in a whisper.

“Not that kind of hiding,” James muttered, his gaze finding the ground once again.

Remus kicked a pebble with the tip of his shoe, sending it skidding along the path before it fell into the grass, hidden within the green. “He’ll be back tonight,” was all he said, his voice betraying his hopeful words.

The short conversation hit another lull, leaving you to stew in your own thoughts, however melancholy they may be. You wished you had a prediction, an inkling, anything to tell you what would happen with Regulus, though you were just as blind as everyone else. You could try, you supposed, stealing another few eggs from the kitchens or borrowing Steve Zielinski’s crystal ball. Even so, you had serious doubts that your elementary skills would result in anything substantial in the way of Regulus’s future.

You all went straight to the Great Hall with the measly hope you’d find Sirius already sitting at the table, though he was nowhere to be found. It was lively tonight, fueled by Hogsmeade and the promise of no classes the following morning, though your group added nothing to the exuberance. You ate in relative silence, save for the sound of Remus repeatedly stabbing slices of pork chops with the thick metal prongs to add onto his plate. You lingered there until the very last scattering of students began to get up to leave, your group eventually following.

“I wonder where he is,” Marlene mumbled, her voice barely discernible despite the fact that you were standing right beside her.

You trudged up the staircase towards the tower, trying to think of a suitable thing to say. You had no clue where he could be, if he was still with his brother or not, or if James was right and he was tucked away somewhere wallowing in the agony of his brother's future. You didn’t dare bring up the latter point again, not when you could see the hurt behind Marlene’s eyes. You hadn’t pressed her on the topic of Sirius lately, though you had a good enough idea that it was bothering her more than she was letting on.

“Remus is right,” you began, speaking close to her ear. “He’ll be back tonight.”

☆ ─────── ₒ*ₒ☾ ☽ₒ*ₒ ─────── ☆

It was another early morning on Sunday, though a dream had not been what awoke you. Dorcas was snoring again, having forgotten to cast a silencing charm. Marlene and Lily appeared unaffected, neither stirring behind the curtains of their four-posters. It was a wasted effort to fall back asleep, so you gave in to the early morning sunlight. You dressed for the day, lugging your books into the common room like you had done a thousand times before, hoping that you could make some use of your extra time.

Sirius had not come back the previous night, at least not to the common room before you went to bed. You assumed he must have staggered up to his room at some point, the need to sleep likely overpowering his desire to self isolate.

Unsurprisingly, there was no sign of him as you set your books on to one of the common room tables, flattening out a roll of parchment as you flipped one open. You’d have to actually practice Transfiguration later, though notes would do for now. It was as good a way as any to rid your mind of what your friends had said to you the day before, Lily’s words breaking through most of all. “Even if you don’t have the sight, you’re gifted, more than you give yourself credit for.” Trusting one’s gut was always a good thing, though their confidence in your abilities was reaching James-level trust. You couldn’t even figure out your own future, much less anyone else’s. Lily always was too kind to you.

Your quill tapped against your parchment as your eyes glazed across the same sentence over and over, your mind refusing to accept the words into recognition. Like a fist banging on a door, your problems would not allow you to focus on anything else. You couldn’t shake what you had thought the evening before, the ideas that had popped into your head on the way back to the castle…

You didn’t bother removing your things from the common room, rather gathering them into a neat pile and shoving it to the far side of the table. Without much of a plan other than going to the kitchens, you left the tower, making the long trek down to the basement. The castle was completely silent, though the kitchens were anything but.

As soon as you pushed open the painting you were met with various clatters coming from the far rooms, the house elves moving swiftly to and from the pantry, weaving around one another as if they could predict the others movements. Silver trays floated in the air behind them, bags of flour sent flurries of powder as they were plopped onto the floor, whisks spun rapidly in massive bowls of batter. It was controlled chaos, and you only hoped that your presence wouldn’t push it over the edge into complete disarray.

“Excuse me,” you muttered as you tried to walk between them, though you were less talented at knowing just where they were about to step than they were. A few looked up at you with furrowed, irritated brows, others ignoring you completely.

It was only when you made it to the pantry that you heard the sound of your name. You spun around, finding Isby staring at you from across the room, her large ears pulled back.

“Isby,” you said, trying to soften her hardened eyes. Her hands were on her hips, her little feet stomping towards you as you smiled. “Good morning.”

“Miss L/N never said she would not be returning,” she grumbled, glaring up at you. “I hads to call on the Headmaster, I was so worried.”

The regret over forgetting about Isby hit you instantly like a cannonball to your chest. In all honesty, you thought she’d be happy not to have so many students piling into the kitchens so often.

“I’m sorry, Isby,” you said, trying your best to show your sincerity. “I didn’t know you’d worry.”

“Professor Dumbledore put Isby in charge of your care in the kitchens. Isby takes her job very seriously,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Everythings all right now,” you said, though you weren’t sure how truthful that really was. “Professor Dumbledore had it taken care of.”

“Taken care of,” she said under her breath, her large eyes darting across the floor. She glanced up again, her ears shifting back to their normal position. “I has forgiven you.”

You smiled warmly, crouching down to meet her at eye level. “Thank you, Isby, for everything.”

“Miss L/N must stay out of trouble,” she began, briefly looking around at the other house elves, still bustling around the room. “Isby must go.”

You stood back up, watching as she disappeared in the pandemonium, which now appeared more like a hive of busy bees than house elves.

You gathered a few eggs, a bowl, and a pastry for later, wrapping it up in a napkin before making yourself a small space at one of the house elf sized tables, smiling at the memory of sitting there with James. You didn’t let yourself think of it long, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Setting the bowl in front of you, you thought of Regulus as you cracked the first egg above it, imagining Sirius running towards him through the Hogsmeade bustle. You peered down, watching as it splattered against the sides. You hummed to yourself, searching for any discernable shape or pattern that you recognized from your textbooks, though at first glance, you noticed nothing. Maybe ovomancy wasn’t for you.

After a few more minutes of trying to make out some sign, you gave up, waving your wand and getting rid of the first egg. The kitchen was still loud, filled with the hissing sound of sausages and eggs frying followed shortly by their smell, the oven doors opening and slamming shut over and over, the pitter-patter of a hundred little feet flying across the stone floors. You rested your elbows on your knees, your head falling into your hands as you tried to shut it all out. With your eyes closed, you tried to think of Regulus again, this time imagining something you hadn’t seen.

Regulus, his black hair slicked neatly back, his grey eyes like storm clouds, a color you could see even from passing him in busy corridors, his pale arm, held out as a wand touched his skin, an inky mark creeping its way onto the surface, the same one you had seen in the Prophet, suspended in the sky above the scene of a wicked crime.

Quickly, you opened your eyes, grabbing the second egg and cracking it a ways above the bowl. It splattered in the same manner, hitting the bottom before moving up the sides like waves in a tempest, nearly spilling over the lip. Your keen eyes stared as it settled, shifting back and forth before slowing, the clear white marbling in the broken yolk. Just when you thought it was finished, the deep yellow began to swirl once more, refusing to remain stagnant as its predecessor had. You held your breath without meaning to, your jaw clenching as it took a new shape, forming with other wayward blobs to create new masses, separating from others in the opposite manner. In a few seconds, you could see the picture it was forming, distinct against the white of the egg. An hourglass.

With a quivering hand you flicked your wand again, the egg disappearing and leaving the bowl clean. You could feel your breath shuddering too, your eyes staring blankly at the kitchen in front of you. Without much thought, you grabbed your pastry, forgetting the bowl as you walked from the kitchen out into the basement corridor, your mind mostly blank. You felt half asleep as you made your way back to the common room, your feet feeling as if you had heavy, metal boots on, like the ones on the knights in the Entrance Hall. You weren’t sure you had gotten anything clearer in your entire life, and for whatever reason, it frightened you beyond belief.

When you made it back to the common room there were only a few students mulling about, their curious eyes following you as you went over to the table where your things were piled, taking them into your arms before you flew up the stairs to the girl’s dormitories. Ever since the public display of near-violence between James, Sirius, and Zephyr, it was difficult to shake your housemates' newfound interest in you. Still, you were thankful no one seemed to be brave enough to press you on it, ironically enough. You likely had James to thank for that.

Your roommates were awake when you slammed the door behind you, the pastry still clucked between a napkin in your hand. They all stared at you, each with the same perplexed expression.

“Where’ve you been?” Lily asked, folding up a jumper to put back into her trunk.

“Studying,” you said, motioning with your books. You looked down into your other hand, noticing the pastry had been all but decimated. “Went to the kitchens, too. Do you want this, Dorcas?”

She smiled, waltzing over to take the pastry from you, not phased by the fact that it had been flattened. “This’ll hold me over,” she chuckled, taking a bite out of it.

You dropped your books off at your desk before getting ready for breakfast, even though you had already done everything you needed to this morning. Your friends waited patiently as you idled in the lavatory, saying nothing as you paced the small room. You ran the faucet, just so it would sound like you were doing something rather than wasting their time. You hadn’t the mind to feel guilty about it, staring at your reflection in the mirror as if your eyes, backwards from the way the world saw you, held the answer of what you should do. With your thoughts a little less scrambled, you were able to reason that Sirius had not gotten a straight answer out of Regulus. It was likely his brother was still debating over what he should do, though just as it had been a week prior, Regulus’s time to decide was running out.

You shut off the water, rubbing at the crease between your brows before facing your friends once again, your mind marginally clearer.

“You didn’t see Sirius at all, did you?” Lily asked as you walked down to breakfast.

“No,” you said, your mouth pulling to the side. “I hope he’s doing all right, or as good as he can be.”

“James won’t let him hide for too long,” said Lily, her voice suddenly brighter than yours, less weighed down. You didn’t know where she got her serenity from, but you wanted some of your own.

Sirius was at breakfast, though he looked like he’d been run over by a pack of hippogriffs and then dunked head first into the Black Lake. There were deep purple bags under his eyes, bold against the sickly pallor of his skin. He was worse than you’d ever seen him before, almost as if he were deathly ill, and distinctly depressed. His countenance was no better than his looks, his shoulders rounded forward, his neck angled downward towards his plate, nearly empty save for the sausage and toast Remus had given him. He touched nothing, not even his tea.

You, and surely your dormmates, were all itching to ask him the same question: how did it go? Though, no one dared to say a word about it. A few meaningless, hollow comments about classes and quidditch were thrown out just to break the tension a bit, but little else was said. It was probably just a victory they had gotten him down here, you realized, making it unlikely any would try and push their luck.

“You should come to the library with us,” Lily said to the others as you all stood to leave the Great Hall. You had forgotten you had made plans with her to do so. “First thing after breakfast, Y/N. We need to start seriously preparing!”

“Who?” James asked.

Lily shrugged. “All of you.”

You knew what she was trying to do, though it didn’t seem like she was attempting to hide it too thoroughly. James looked to Sirius, though his eyes were far off, staring straight ahead as you left the hall.

“You wanna go, Padfoot?” James asked.

Briefly, Sirius’s eyes drifted towards James, his mouth barely moving as he mumbled, “Sure.”

With Sirius’s blessing, that meant Remus and Peter would follow, or so you hoped. You all went back to the common room to get your things before going back down the library, your assumption being correct. Remus lugged more books in his bag than any of you, even Lily, who seemed to bring almost her entire eight-class course load. Peter seemed to obey only for Sirius’s sake, looking almost as upset as him as you found your places at one of the only free tables large enough for all of you to fit. The library was fairly full, just as it was every weekend, though the fact that you were nearing the end of term only made it more congested. The only reason you were likely able to get a table with eight chairs was due to Lily’s instance of getting there so early.

Unconsciously, you found yourself sitting beside James, taking out your things from your bag without so much of a thought about your choice. As soon as you flipped open your advanced Astronomy textbook, the realization of his closeness sent a flurry of nerves through your stomach like a jolt of energy before it faded away. It was getting more difficult to force yourself away from him during casual moments, moments when you weren’t thinking about how you ought to act or where you should look. The longer you two were together, really together, the more you had to fight against it, even more so than you had before. It was if you floated to his side, pulled in by a gravitational force of blinding, warm light that seemed to radiate off of him at all times. As you attempted to continue jotting down your notes, hoping you were acting inconspicuous, you realized that he probably did the same, though you just hadn’t noticed, too caught up in the sight of him to recognize if you had walked closer or if he had beat you to it.

At one head of the table, Sirius sat in a grumpy stupor, his eyes still agonized by heavy, drooping lids. He sat back in his chair, not bothering to look down at any of his school work, which you were sure had been piling up for him over the past week. You peeked at him out of the corner of your eye, your leg bouncing as you thought of a way to get James alone so you could pester him for details.

Your quill hovered above your parchment as you decided what to do, giving in to your first instinct after only a brief moment of deliberation. You scribbled something down in the margins, slanted to the right so that James could read it more easily. You glanced up, looking around at the rest of your friends. They all were fairly engrossed in their own work, other than Sirius and Peter, though neither were looking your way. Lily, the most important person to consider, was staring down into a giant, leather-bound book, her brows scrunched as she muttered the words so softly you couldn’t hear.

Your eyes darted back towards James as you tapped the tip of his shoe with yours, trying not to lose yourself in the picture of his face, downturned towards his own work, his lips barely parted. His head perked up, turning towards you as his glasses slipped down his nose. Instantly, your eyes shot back down to your own paper, inching it closer to him. He took your meaning immediately, reading your parchment as you went back to pretending to study.

Follow me in five minutes.

After a few seconds you folded up the parchment, sticking it into your textbook before closing it. You stood, taking your copy of Advanced Astronomy into your arms before heading towards the stacks. You only got a few steps away before Marlene turned around, watching you leave.

“Where’re you going?” she asked, whispering.

Remus and Dorcas’s head popped up as well, though Lily stayed entirely occupied, lost in her reading.

“I have to cross reference something on pulsars, you know, the type of neuron star that—”

“Forgive me for asking,” she mumbled, turning back around.

You spun on your heels before anyone could see your triumphant smirk, all too pleased with yourself as you escaped into the long rows of tall shelves, twisting and turning like a labyrinth in the wide space. You didn’t go far, ducking away beside one of the large, pointed windows, the morning light washing the dark wood with golden light. You leaned against the shelf, your fingers tapping against your book as you watched a few students pass, all quiet as a mouse.

It was definitely less than five minutes when James found you, or rather you found him, stepping out into the aisle as you watched him whizz by. Any other time you would have chastised him for it, though you knew it was the last thing he needed.

“James,” you whispered, catching his wrist.

As your hand slipped away he grabbed it, holding you as he swiveled his head around to see if anyone was watching.

“We need to talk,” you said, “but not here.”

He nodded, letting go of your hand as you walked as quickly as you could without it reasonably counting as a jog to the furthest, most undisturbed corner of the library. It was the same place you had gone after Zephyr reappeared in Gryffindor Tower, when James had guarded you so fiercely you couldn’t believe you didn’t realize he was in love with you.

“What happened with Regulus?” you asked, your voice still hushed.

James’s face fell, his expression so grim it made your chest ache. “He talked to him, but he doesn’t think it made any difference.”

Your heartbeat quickened, dread mixing with the awful concoction already churning in your stomach. “What did he say? What did Regulus say?”

“I think the main gist of what Regulus said was ‘butt out’ and ‘fuck off’,” James answered, his expression pained as he imagined it.

“He didn’t seem unsure, or like he might not go through with it?” you asked, some of your hope drifting away. You longed to grasp it, force it back towards you where you could hold to it as long as possible.

“Padfoot didn’t say much,” he sighed, running a hand through his curls, dark in the low light. “But I’m not entirely sure I trust him, either. He’s never had a clear head when it comes to his brother.”

You thought for a moment, your textbook held tightly against your chest. “Did he offer a place for him to stay— with him, in London?”

“They already live in London.”

“You know what I mean,” you said, staring at him expectantly.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, shaking his head. His hands came down to his hips, his head slumped forward for a beat. “We’re just lucky he’s out with the living right now. I didn’t exactly push him for answers,” there was a clip to his tone, though you knew it wasn’t because of you.

Sirius was your friend, but he was James’s best friend. You knew he had a way of taking things on, carrying burdens even if it wouldn’t lighten the others load. It was one of his best traits, something that made you love him even more, though his innate dramatism did not help him in hiding it.

You set your book down on the table, stepping back in front of him so he had to look you in the eyes. He did without question, his irises shaded by his lashes, heavy in your quiet corner. You stroked his cheek, warm to the touch, frowning all the while. You hated every bit of all of it; the immeasurable amount of pain Sirius was feeling, the uncertain fate of Regulus, and James’s breaking heart. While not your top priority, you tried to soothe him the best you could, running your fingers along his hairline.

“We can help him,” you said, just loud enough for him to hear. You tried to think of something else to say to ease some of his worries, though all you could settle on was an ill-fated statement that you knew he would argue against. You said it anyway. “It’s no different than the way it was before, when he thought Regulus was lost.”

“I’m not sure he ever thought he was lost,” he said with a sadness trembling in his voice, his eyes fluttering shut. He brought his hand up to rest over yours, keeping it in place. When he opened his eyes again, he let out a short, worn breath, laced with the unmistakable sting of sorrow. “I think he always thought there was a chance…that maybe one day Regulus would, I don’t know, change his mind.”

Your face crumbled, though you caught yourself, forcing a brave front, even if you knew James would be able to see through it all too easily. It was always worth a try, if it were for him.

“There's still a chance. Like you said, you don’t know what really happened. Who knows how Sirius is interpreting it,” you paused, your eyes drifting from his. “This morning I went down to the kitchens before anyone else woke up— I couldn’t sleep. I tried ovomancy, y’know, the egg thing?”

You looked back up, James nodding.

“I thought of Regulus, just to see if I really could predict his future, or at least get a reading,” you continued, taking a breath that shuddered in your lungs. “I saw an hourglass, which seems pretty self explanatory.”

A flash of horror crossed James’s face, though you pressed your palm tighter to his face, cupping his jaw.

“No, no, James, this is good. It means he hasn’t decided. If he was certain, or fairly certain, why would time be running out? It would already be out.”

Horror was replaced by realization, realization by a faint glimmer of hope. He pressed his lips to yours quickly, pulling away before you could even register what he had done. He broke out into an astonished smile as he looked back at you, laughing quietly to himself.

“You’re amazing,” he breathed. “Bloody amazing.”

You shook your head at him, using the freedom of your newly released hand to brush a curl behind his ear. “It’s nothing, really—”

“It’s everything,” he said, grabbing your hand to cradle it against his chest, fully enveloped between his. “When are you going to realize how gifted you are, how special this is? I’ll prop you up forever if I have to— actually, I’ll do it even if you do realize— but you should start giving yourself some credit,” his voice dripped with honeyed warmth, his words rushing out in a low voice fighting against exultation.

You didn’t know what to say, forgetting how to speak, though you didn’t need to. James was off again, still caught up in the excitement of your discovery.

“You have to tell Sirius. You don’t mind, right? You don’t have to, but I think we should—”

“Of course, I will,” you interrupted. “I didn’t know when it would be the right time. He’s very…fragile right now.” It felt odd to say, wrong to call Sirius such a term. He was strong, almost impossibly so, though there was no other word you could think of that would adequately capture what you saw today. You couldn’t blame him, either. If it were you, you would’ve been a heap on the floor years ago, absolutely useless.

James’s thumb rubbed across the back of your hand, gnawing at his lip as he considered what you said. “You’re right. I’ll find a good time to do it, maybe tonight. For now, could you keep it between us? I think he’d be pretty peeved if everyone else knew before him.”

“Of course,” you said with a single nod.

After a beat James reached up to cradle your face, kissing your forehead before letting out a single, small laugh into your skin. “My girl’s hot and she can predict the future.”

You scowled at him, hitting his arm softly. “It's not a prediction, it’s a reading,” you corrected, your ears burning up. You hoped he couldn’t feel the heat in your face, though you were fairly certain that he could, and that he was probably reveling in it.

“And brilliant,” he said, still beaming. He pressed the back of his hand onto the side of your neck with a smirk, sending a shiver down your spin. “You are hot, though. Was it something I said?”

“I think I have dragon pox. It’s highly contagious. You better get away from me or you’ll catch it,” you said, your voice flat.

He laughed, a bit too loud for the library, though you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. His eyes shined, some of his earlier worries gone, at least for the moment. You were happy to have done it, even if you knew it wouldn’t last.

“You’re worth a trip to Poppy’s.”

He leaned in, kissing you a bit longer this time, dragging it out just to the edge of something more, something fuller. When he stepped away he still looked impish, motioning for you to follow as he slipped back into the winding shelves towards the main aisle. You grabbed your textbook to follow him, shaking your head.

☆ ─────── ₒ*ₒ☾ ☽ₒ*ₒ ─────── ☆

You guessed James must have found a time to tell him, because all throughout breakfast on Monday, Sirius kept stealing glances your way. You weren’t sure if he was trying to hide it or not, though every once in a while you’d catch him peeking up from his food, his eyes darting over to your face before returning back to something else in a quick, flashing movement. After the first couple of times you turned away from him, allowing him to stare at you without the embarrassment of being caught, though you weren’t sure it was even possible for you to embarrass Sirius. Like James, it took true humiliation to knock away his front of pure confidence.

After breakfast, Remus and Peter went off to do who-knows-what, leaving you and Dorcas to go back up to the tower while the rest went to a double period of Arithmancy, a subject you were quite happy to never have taken. The two of you sat on the overstuffed red sofa by the fireplace, surrounded by other sixth and seventh years with free periods doing the same thing as yourself. It was warm enough that a fire was unnecessary, its melody of crackles and pops strangely absent from the usual noises of the common room. Now, it was simply hushed voices or a stray laugh, the scratching of quills and the turning of pages.

As you did your homework, the sounds began to wear on you, mixing with one another in a low cacophony of jagged, disjointed parts to an awful song. You fiddled with your quill, your jaw tight as your eyes bore holes into the page. You could feel your heart beginning to bang, harder and harder, against your chest. Soon, the air was suffocating, leaving you no other choice but to pop up from the sofa in a sudden jerk.

Dorcas looked up at you, pushing her thick, curling hair from her face as she watched you gather your books. “What's wrong?’

“Nothing,” you muttered, glancing around you at the other students. A few were watching you, some of whom you knew quite well, though none brave enough to meet your eyes once you caught there's. The beating of your heart had not slowed, leaving you unconcerned with the curiosity of your classmates. Briefly, you wondered if you were going mad from stress.

Your daze was only broken by Dorcas, who said your name as you began to walk away. She stood up, though you only shook your head, ducking out of the common room like a rabbit being chased by a fox.

You didn’t need a crystal ball to predict what would happen in your future. “What's up with you? Why are you acting so weird? Is anything wrong?” The gentler questions would come from Lily, though the meanings would all be the same. It wouldn’t matter, though, because this time you could tell them. With Sirius in the know, the only silver lining was that for once, you didn’t have to keep secrets.

Even so, you knew Sirius would be furious with you for meddling in his family life, in his life, using a form of magic he placed no weight into. While he was kind enough to keep his comments to mere jokes, you knew how he truly felt. He thought you were foolish for believing that you, who wasn’t even a Seer, could somehow gain any insight into the future. You also had a sneaking suspicion that fate (or at least the very probable chance that something would happen), terrified him to no end. He had already been dealt a bad hand, and you couldn’t blame him for raging against the idea that it all was set in the stars, that he had little control of what happened to him next.

You agreed with him, at least in part, for one always had the power to change their decisions, to decide on a different course. But how often do people change their minds once they’ve started on a certain path? You didn’t know, and the uncertainty of the answer haunted you as you rushed through the corridors, your feet seeming to know where you were going better than you did. The walls faded into a blur of limestone pillars and carvings, the puffs of orange flames turning into streaks of vibrant color against the grey.

You found yourself on the fourth floor, turning into the empty classroom you had frequented a dozen times before. You weren’t sure if you were planning on taking the mirror passage into Hogsmeade, hide away in its cavern, or stare into the mirror itself, though all of these choices were made moot when you saw Sirius standing in the room. His back was to you, staring into the mirror. As soon as you opened the door he turned around, his eyes widening. He fixed himself quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets as she sauntered closer to you, completely at ease.

“Hey, L/N,” he drawled, though his mouth was missing the teasing smirk that so often went with that tone.

“Hey,” you said, just barely getting the words out. He still looked sickly, only slightly better than yesterday. His hair was pulled back into a low, loose bun, strands sticking out in a state of dishevelment. Normally, it would have seemed suave on him, perfectly imperfect, though now it looked just as it would on anyone else: frowzy. “Bunking off?”

He shrugged, his shoulders falling in a heavy, dead movement. “Double period. It gets pretty boring after an hour and a half,” he said, sounding wearier the more he spoke. He looked down at his uniform dress shoes, polished and shining. “Didn’t know that breakfast food knew the future.”

You chuckled softly, meandering further into the room. “It’s not really the eggs that know, it’s just how they fall. I do all the heavy lifting.”

You were overjoyed to hear him laugh, even if it was strained.

“Even though I don’t believe in any of that shite,” he began, a forced smile creeping on his lips, “thanks for not telling anyone else. You know how fucking fussy they can be.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m still too angry with you to pamper,” you joked.

He raised his brows. “Then why’d you read my brother's future?”

“That was a favor to Regulus,” you said with a wave of your hand. “He owes me, but he doesn’t know it yet. One day I’ll make him buy me something nice and expensive, y’know, to call it even.”

You knew he was far too clever to miss what you were implying, though it’d take a lot to miss it. Regulus will come back to you. You weren’t even sure if you were that confident, though Sirius didn’t need to know.

He rocked a bit on his toes, his head turning sharply away. His mouth fell, twisting into a doleful grimace. “I’ll pass on the message,” he mumbled, the words gritting between his clenched teeth.

Your heart panged, your fingers tightening around the spine of your book. You knew you shouldn’t be joking about it, taking things so lightly. Your apologies rushed out, much like Marlene’s had, escaping you before you could stop them, “I’m— Merlin…I’m sorry, Sirius. I know that I shouldn’t have meddled in your life. I feel awful about it, really.”

He sighed, looking back at you once you were finished. “You’re unbelievable.” He shook his head, chuckling bitterly. “You’re a real fucking guilt machine, aren’t you?”

His anger all seemed to flow inward, absorbed into his own chest before any of it could reach you. You watched his face distort again, his brows angled and pinched.

“What?” you asked, taking a hesitant step towards him, just to test the waters.

He was still chuckling, though it was sour, ugly in the air. “Meddle all you want, Y/N, I don’t care about any of it. I fucked with you for how long?” He motioned to you, letting his hand drop against his leg. “I was a dick, and you keep forgiving me. I’m a dick to everyone and somehow none of you will leave me alone,” his volume rose, exasperated as he continued on.

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else, coming to stand only a foot away from him. “Stop it, Sirius. This is— you’re not thinking clearly. We’re your friends, we understand. You don’t have to be happy-go-lucky all the time.”

“Why aren’t you upset with me about Marlene? What about that?” he asked, trying to egg you on.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “She’s over it, so there’s no reason for me to hold a grudge on her behalf. I know I wouldn’t want her to, if it were me.”

“We both know she’s not over it,” he muttered, entirely different from how he was a moment ago. He was smaller now, whatever had been building within him settling to a low, ruminating simmer.

“It’s fine, Sirius. It's a teenage romance. By the summer she’ll be good as new, and probably dating someone else,” you said, hoping your words were true.

He didn’t speak for a long moment, sucking on his teeth while his eyes ran along the floor. You waited patiently, studying his tortured expression.

“James really loves you, you know. It’s disgusting,” he whispered with no humor despite his clear attempt at jest.

You filled your lungs with air, slowly letting it out. “I know.”

“And I thought Lily was bad,” he said, chuckling a bit this time. His eyes, brilliantly grey, met yours. “When we’re alone I never hear the end of it.”

A smile twitched in one corner of your mouth, though your face was still dominated by a growing sadness. “Must be awful for you.”

He began to walk away, his steps slow and uncalculated, moving at his first instinct in no clear direction.

“With Lily it was all lovey-dovey, gushy stuff,” he mocked, sending a sharp pang through your nerves, though he couldn’t see, turned away from you. “I didn’t think it could get worse than that, but Merlin, was I wrong.”

A strange feeling of relief washed over you, easing a flash of worry that somehow James’s obsession with Lily was greater than his for you. You felt guilty for it, though you couldn’t allow yourself the time to dissect the meaning.

Sirius laughed under his breath, his head bent towards the floor. It was another long pause before he continued, the ache in his voice poorly disguised through his whisper, “It’s the same way his parents are. I mean, they don’t go on and on about how in love they are with each other in front of me,” he let out a breathy laugh again. “But you can tell, when you look at them.”

Your feet might as well have been glued to the floor. If you wanted to move, you couldn’t, frozen in place as you listened to him. His voice was crushing, full of a pain so foreign to you that your mind could not wrap around it.

“I don’t think he knows how lucky he is to have parents like that. He knows, in a way— it’s not hard when you have me as a comparison,” he faltered, clearing his throat. “I’m not sure my parents ever really loved each other. I can’t really imagine either of them loving anyone.” He stopped walking, his hand resting on one of the small, wooden desks. “I guess it’s not hard to understand why he’s good at it and I’m not. It’s so bloody easy for him. If he were anyone else I’d fucking hate him.”

Your mind reeled, wondering why he was choosing to tell you this. Perhaps it was self-retribution, you thought, for all the secrets of yours he somehow found out about. Still, even though he had acted poorly, even though he had been a bad friend, you didn’t know if you deserved to hear any of this.

“You could go back there, you know,” you said, somehow finding your voice. It was small, but enough. “The Potter’s would have you back in a second, if you asked.”

He nodded, peeking over his shoulder. Your eyes met briefly before he looked away again. “Yeah, I know.”

“If you bought Marlene a butterbeer, she’d go out with you again,” you said, trying to force some lightness into your words. It seemed to have worked, for his shoulders shook in what you assumed to be a silent laugh.

When he didn’t say anything, you continued, “I know I said she’ll get over it, and I wasn’t lying, but she doesn’t have to.” That seemed to catch his attention, his head picking up. “She still likes you, Sirius, but she’s also still a little livid. If you treat her like a normal boyfriend she’ll be head over heels in no time. You might have to…repair some damage, but it’ll work out, if you want it to.”

“If I want it to,” he repeated, an edge to his tone.

You ignored it, nodding even though he couldn’t see. “Yeah, if you don’t drop her like you do with everyone else,” you said softly, trying to ease some of the harshness of your words. Still, you cringed as you said it. “I think it would be good for you, good for her, too. I really think that one day you might love her as much as James loves me. But even if you don’t, even if it doesn’t work out, at least you can say that you tried, that you gave it your best shot.”

You wondered if you were talking about Marlene or Regulus, though you weren’t sure it mattered. The point stood for both, whether Sirius liked it or not.

“Can’t you just hex me again?” he said, finally turning around. His brows were raised, his face otherwise blank.

“Maybe some other time,” you said, matching his expression. You studied him as he walked closer, passing you as if he was heading to leave. You spun around, wanting desperately to stop him, to keep him here just a little while longer, where he was forced to listen to you. “Did James tell you what I thought it meant, the hourglass?”

Sirius stopped, spinning back around. His face was dragged down, his eyes tired. “Yeah.”

“Then you know,” you began, your lingering sliver of hope for Regulus building back up again. “It means he isn’t settled, he’s undecided. Snape was right.”

His name made Sirius recoil a bit, as if his body was ridding itself of a mild poison. His jaw set, the rest of his body tensing. “If I promise to try, will you leave me alone?”

You couldn’t help your smile, not wide enough to show your teeth, but enough to show him that you were pleased. “I cross my heart.”

“You’ve got a deal, sister,” he said, whipping open the door and striding out, not looking back as it shut behind him.

The bell tower rang, marking the end of second period. You had to go to History of Magic, though you were surely going to be late, given that your bag was all the way up in Gryffindor Tower. However, you still couldn’t help but turn around towards the mirror, drawn in by the image you knew you’d see. It wasn’t as if Professor Binns would notice your tardiness, anyway.

Slowly, you walked towards it, tall and proud where it was sitting in the corner. The nearer you got, the clearer the image became, materializing like a ghost beside you. James was standing next to you, nearly pressing against your shoulder. He held the same bright smile that you loved the most, easy and entirely unforced. His hair was a mess of wild curls, barely tamed, wearing the jeans that always sent your cheeks ablaze. Every few seconds he would glance at you in the reflection, the happiest he could be, his own face blushing when he met your eyes. It was the same thing that you’ve seen for over a year, though now you knew it was real, more than just a fantasy. The only difference was your hands, each wearing a ring.

☆ ─────── ₒ*ₒ☾ ☽ₒ*ₒ ─────── ☆

After classes on Tuesday, you and James retreated to the east side of the lake, too far for anyone to see anything other than two blurry dots, sometimes shifting amongst the grass. The transistor radio rested beside you, playing an acoustic song that you knew but James didn’t. You hummed along to the tune, your back against his chest as you gazed out across the water, the sunlight warm against your face. James kissed the side of your head, resting his cheek against you.

You already told him about your conversation with Sirius, leaving out everything but his promise to try and get through to his brother. James was happy to have heard that, though you could still feel it in the way he carried himself, in the way he was playing with your fingers, that it had lifted very little weight from his worries.

“I like this song,” you said when it changed to another, just as slow. “This DJ has good taste.”

The water lapped at the shallow shore, mixing with the fingerpicking, the soft accent of the man singing about love.

“This one, I know,” James said, his voice rumbling against your back.

You chuckled, twisting your head to look at him. “How cultured of you.”

He pouted at your teasing, his brows pinched as he reached up to touch the side of your face, feather light along your jaw. “Good thing I have thick skin, around you,” he grumbled, moving down to the side of your neck. His thumb brushed just under your chin, moving languidly over your throat.

You buzzed, your head thrown back to rest against his shoulder. All your clever, biting jabs were forgotten, washed away by his mouth as he kissed the corner of your lips, then your cheek, then just beside your ear.

By some miracle, you found your wit again, making a dissatisfied noise as your eyes shut. “Don’t be a tease.”

The back of your eyelids, orange from the light of the sun, were set in shadow as James chuckled, leaning down again. He kissed you, and the swell of love resounded like a thousand violins, all playing a single, sublimely beautiful note.

☆ ─────── ₒ*ₒ☾ ☽ₒ*ₒ ─────── ☆

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