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amiableness · 3 months

Text

Tulips

Pairings: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader, Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Summary ✿ After finding out Remus Lupin has found himself a girlfriend, a devastated Y/n L/n asks Sirius Black to help her get over him. Except Sirius has feelings for her.

Warnings ✿ Language, unrequited love, angst, kissing, jealousy, reader wearing lipgloss and a dress, mentions of anxiety. If there's more let me know!

Word Count ✿ 20.3k

A/N 💌 This was my first ever series, but I've decided to repost it as a oneshot!

Your affection for Remus had begun almost from the moment you met him. For nearly five years, you found yourself quietly drawn to him. How could you not be? His tranquil and caring nature had eased your anxieties countless times. His unwavering loyalty to both his friends and his studies never ceased to amaze you. The bravery he exhibited each month, whether he acknowledged it or not, left you in awe. With Remus, you always felt secure, as if nothing could disturb your sense of safety.

Monday nights marked your routine study sessions with Remus, a tradition since the start of sixth year. Arriving promptly at his dorm, you were met with unsettling moans seeping from beneath the door, causing your stomach to plummet. Frozen in shock, you raced through possible explanations, with Sirius seeming the most plausible culprit. Surely, Remus wouldn't forget your study night, and the thought of another girl seemed inconceivable. As you turned around, anxiety coursing through your veins, you collided with Sirius, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Please tell me it’s James in there." You pleaded, the desperation clear in both your tone and your expression, causing Sirius' heart to sink. Knowing James was at practice, he couldn't bring himself to shatter your hope. Instead, he grasped your hand firmly and practically pulled you towards your dormitory. Despite the chaos of emotions, Sirius made sure to shield you with his own body, warding off any prying eyes curious about the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Are any of your roommates here?" Sirius inquired as he halted in front of your dormitory door.

"No, Lily is staying the night at your dorm with James, and I think Marlene is staying with Dorcas." You responded, your voice tinged with sadness as you used your sleeve to dab at the tears staining your cheeks. Leading the way inside, you guided Sirius into your room, where he realized it was his first time seeing your personal space. Until now, you and Remus had been inseparable, leaving no room for Sirius to spend time alone with you.

He found himself a tad nervous, the proximity to you unnerving him in the best possible way. As he stood in your dormitory, the faint scent of your favorite perfume lingering in the air, Sirius couldn't help but feel a flutter in his stomach. It was an unfamiliar sensation, being so close to you without the familiar presence of Remus nearby.

"It wasn’t James and Lily in there, was it?" Sirius turned to you, his expression filled with concern as he observed you sitting on your bed, visibly holding back tears, awaiting his response.

"No, angel." He replied softly, his voice tinged with empathy as he moved to sit beside you. A sigh escaped his lips as he settled onto your bed. Sirius knew James's schedule all too well, and he was certain that James was still down at the Quidditch pitch, far from the dorm.

Everything about your side of the room was perfectly you. Your desk was adorned with stacks of books, polaroids capturing cherished memories with friends pinned to the wall, and one of Remus’ sweaters casually draped over the back of your chair. Yet, amidst the familiar sights, a small glass vase seized his attention. Within it, a single red tulip, a gift he had given you a few weeks earlier.

As he strolled around Black Lake with the boys, he stumbled upon the patch of flowers, and instantly, he knew it was meant for you. Knowing how much you adored flowers, often doodling them in the margins of your Potions notes while seated beside him, he couldn't resist picking it. James, catching sight of the flower, declared that Lily deserved an entire bouquet.

You weren’t taken aback when James Potter interrupted your study session with Lily by presenting her with a stunning bouquet of flowers. However, what did catch you off guard was Sirius' gesture: placing a single red flower delicately on top of your open book and sending you a playful wink.

"M’lady." He had murmured, and at that moment, your cheeks ignited with a warmth you had never felt before.

Lily filled the remainder of your study session with talk of how a red tulip symbolized a declaration of love while you simply laughed in response.

Sirius glanced over at you, noticing the tear-filled gaze fixed upon your hands as you sat on the bed. He hesitated, the weight of his words hanging in the air. "I didn’t know you had feelings for him." he finally admitted, his tone tinged with surprise.

You offered a soft laugh tinged with a hint of sadness. "I guess that means I’m good at hiding it then. It’s been a good couple of years now. Probably started the very first day I met him, honestly," you confessed, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips.

"I’m sorry, angel." Sirius expressed, his voice laced with genuine remorse.

A gentle shake of your head followed. "You don’t have to be sorry," you reassured him, your voice carrying a tone of acceptance intertwined with a hint of resignation.

"I could’ve given you a heads up," Sirius grimaced as your head whipped up to look over at him, the gravity of his words sinking in. "He’s been seeing this girl for weeks. He’s going to ask her out soon."

"Sirius-" you began, your voice carrying a mixture of surprise and concern.

"I’m telling you this not to be mean, but so you’re not blindsided when it happens." Sirius continued his tone earnest yet tinged with regret.

This time, you remained silent, your gaze drifting over to the polaroid displayed prominently on your bedside table. In the photo, you and Remus sat beneath a tree, his arm wrapped around you in a protective embrace while your head rested gently on his shoulder. The memory of that day flooded back — discussing a book, laughter filling the air, and Lily insisting on capturing the moment in a photograph.

At the end of the day, with a knowing smile, she handed you the polaroid. The setting sun cast a beautiful glow upon the photo when you held it in your hand.

"C’mere," Sirius demanded softly, his voice a gentle command meant to pull you away from the intensity of the picture. He positioned himself against the headboard, arms open wide for you to find solace in. Without hesitation, you crawled into his embrace, nestling against his side. His arms enveloped you, offering comfort and warmth as he planted a tender kiss atop your head.

"What can I do?" Sirius inquired quietly, his gaze fixed on the tears tracing down your cheeks and staining his shirt.

"Help me get over him. Please." You pleaded, the vulnerability in your voice bared as you sought comfort and support from him.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

"Where the hell have you been? You nearly missed breakfast!" James exclaimed, his eyes scanning over your disheveled appearance—your hair in disarray and your clothes creased. It was a rare sight to see you, typically impeccably put together and five minutes ahead of everyone else, arriving late and looking rumpled. He chose not to mention the dark circles under your eyes or the absence of your usual cheery smile. He knew better than to bring that up.

Upon sensing Remus's scrutinizing gaze, you cleared your throat nervously and averted your eyes, unwilling to let him figure out that he was the cause of your disheveled appearance.

“Rough night.” That was simply put. In fact, last night had been incredibly rough, leaving you worse for wear this dreary morning. Cuddling with Sirius comforted you for so long before you were back to crying your heart out. He was kind enough to hold you the entire time, and eventually, you had both fallen asleep. There had been no discussion on what you meant last night about having him help you get over Remus. You didn’t know what you had meant by it either.

You grimaced as the memory flooded back, choosing to sit beside Sirius instead. He wouldn’t admit it in front of the boys, but he was well prepared to knock one of them over if they tried to sit next to him. After the trying night you'd endured, he made it a point to ensure you felt at ease and understood that he was there for you should you need anything. Normally, you occupied the seat next to Remus, with Sirius seated beside James and Peter. However, given the circumstances, he understood that you wouldn't feel comfortable sitting next to Remus that morning.

James' gaze darted between the two of you, noting the departure from your usual seating arrangement. He stole a quick glance at Remus, who seemed intent on studying you. "Hmm. Why is it that Sirius has been quiet all breakfast, and now you are too?" he quipped, breaking the silence.

"Sod off, mate." Sirius grumbled, pushing a steaming cup of tea toward you. Despite the gruff remark, he offered you a sweet smile before returning his attention to his meal. Even though the gesture was minimal, it made you want to burst into tears. The fact that he remembered your favorite tea and how you liked it meant more to you than words could express. Remus, however, frowned at the cup of tea sitting in front of you, his expression troubled.

“What? I can’t make conversation this beautiful morning?” James’s tone was still incredibly upbeat, unlike those around him. Peter hummed in agreement, his mouth full of cereal and unable to respond properly.

"It's storming." Remus mumbled, his gaze still fixed on you, sensing that something was amiss as you avoided meeting his eyes. Usually, you sat next to him, cheerily chatting about another book you had read together.

"Are you implying a storm isn't beautiful? Because I happen to think-"

"James, let's just have a quiet breakfast this Tuesday morning." Sirius interjected, surprising James with the interruption. James opened his mouth to protest, but the seriousness in Sirius's expression halted him mid-sentence. Sirius's deliberate interruption was aimed at signaling to Remus that he had missed your study night. It served its purpose, prompting Remus to acknowledge the missed study date.

"Oh, fuck. Y/n, I’m so sorry! Last night, our study night, I totally forgot," Remus blurted out, his words rushed and filled with regret as he watched your reaction. You simply shrugged and sipped your tea, avoiding direct eye contact with him. You kept your gaze fixed on your plate, knowing that meeting Remus's eyes would likely trigger another wave of tears.

"No big deal." You replied casually.

"Uh," Remus furrowed his eyebrows, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion as he searched your face for any sign of distress. However, your demeanor remained inscrutable, your face a mask of blankness. "Are you sure? I know you really wanted to study this week with your exam coming up-"

You finally met Remus's gaze, sitting up a bit straighter, "I was able to study, Remus, it's fine."

"You were? But uh-" Remus scrambled for words, uncertain how to navigate this tense exchange. He couldn't recall a time when you sounded so curt with him before.

"Sirius helped me." You interjected, your voice steady but tinged with an underlying tension.

James sputtered out a laugh, his gaze darting between you and Sirius. "He helped you study? Willingly?"

In reality, studying hadn't been the main agenda of the night. Before drifting off to sleep, you had hastily handed Sirius your flashcards from the nightstand, however, your pounding headache from crying rendered you unable to focus properly during his quizzing. So, technically, he did help you study, albeit minimally.

Peter raised his eyebrows, his tone laced with curiosity, "Is that where you were all last night? Studying?"

You squirmed uneasily at Peter's implication. Sirius shot James and Peter a sharp glance, silently urging them to stop talking.

Remus's lips parted in surprise as he shifted his gaze from Sirius to you. "He stayed the night with you?" His tone carried a hint of displeasure that didn't escape Sirius's notice. Despite himself, a slight sense of satisfaction flickered within Sirius at Remus's reaction.

Before anyone could respond, a pretty Ravenclaw leaned over Remus, enveloping him in a hug as she rested her head against his shoulder. "Rem, I thought you were going to try and sit with me this morning." She murmured.

Your body tensed at the sight of her; she was the girl from last night. A surge of jealousy, unlike anything you had ever experienced before, washed over you, catching you off guard. Your appetite vanished.

"Uh, sorry. I had to work on some things this morning and got a bit distracted." Remus's response came with a hint of discomfort, his apology tinged with unease. As you observed the exchange, you couldn't quite determine if his discomfort arose from her presence or the attention their interaction garnered. Quietly, you wished it leaned more towards the former.

Her lips formed a pretty pout, “Hm.”

James unabashedly observed the pair while taking a bite of his toast. "You know, Remus, if you ever need relationship advice, I’m here," he remarked, his tone teasing. Remus scowled in response, clearly unamused, while the girl giggled and tightened her grip around him, seemingly unfazed by James's comment.

You stole a glance at Sirius, momentarily tuning out the conversation to observe his reaction to the scene unfolding before you. Sensing the unease gnawing at your stomach, you instinctively reached for Sirius’ hand, which rested on his thigh. As soon as your fingers brushed against his, he responded by intertwining them with yours, his eyes meeting yours in silent understanding.

"Do you want to go?" he whispered softly, squeezing your hand in reassurance. Unable to trust your voice, you simply nodded in response. He released your hand momentarily, a fleeting disappointment washing over you until you watched as he effortlessly grabbed your bag and slung it over his shoulder. With a tender gesture, he reached for a muffin, noticing that you had hardly eaten.

Then, extending his hand towards you, he silently offered his support. Amidst James's lively conversation with the Ravenclaw girl and Remus's contemplative gaze, Peter looked on with a puzzled expression as Sirius extended his hand to you, a silent invitation to leave the discomfort behind.

"You don’t have to hold my bag." You mumbled, rising to your feet to face him, intertwining your fingers once more. Despite the awareness of the eyes fixed upon the two of you, your focus remained solely on Sirius.

"I wanted to, angel." Sirius replied softly, meeting your gaze with warmth. The genuine smile that graced your face was the first of the morning, and Sirius felt as if he had won the lottery.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

"Y/n." His voice sliced through the air, causing you to freeze mid-sentence. But deep down, what had you truly expected? That he wouldn’t approach you while you were quietly engrossed in your book in the common room? Your plan of avoiding him for as long as possible wasn’t unfolding as smoothly as you had hoped.

"Hi, Rem.” You responded softly, offering a genuine smile. Despite the ache that lingered from witnessing him with the Ravenclaw girl at breakfast, you couldn’t deny the bond you shared. After all, he was still your best friend. You couldn’t fault him for getting a girlfriend, no matter how much it hurt.

Remus settled into the armchair opposite you, his expression earnest. "I didn’t really get to talk to you much this morning," he began, his tone gentle.

You offered a nonchalant shrug, hoping to conceal the nervousness. "Oh. I mean, I wasn’t in much of a mood for chatting," you replied, attempting to maintain a façade of composure, though inwardly, you were anything but.

"Is everything alright? Is this about missing last night? I promise that I didn’t mean to, truly," Remus continued, his sincerity evident. Leaning forward, his eyes bore into yours, practically pleading for your forgiveness. Despite your resolve, his sincerity tugged at your heartstrings, and you found yourself wavering.

"I’m not upset about you missing our study night; I understand that things come up." You reassured him as though you were anything truly fine. There was a squeeze in your heart at remembering Remus with another girl, a stark reminder that she wasn't you.

Remus visibly relaxed at your words. "We could reschedule it?" he suggested, his tone hopeful.

A heavy silence settled between you. How were you supposed to tell him that you didn't want to reschedule? That you weren't ready to spend time alone with him right now? Being around him now, knowing you had no chance, felt like a punch to the gut.

"There you guys are!" James’ voice carried throughout the common room, effectively gaining more attention than he had probably intended. Sirius stood right beside him, his gaze already fixed on you. Peter was notably absent, likely engrossed in his studies elsewhere. Nevertheless, you welcomed the distraction.

James huffed as if he had been greatly inconvenienced. "We have been looking everywhere for you guys."

You couldn't help but laugh, "You didn’t think to check the common room first?"

"Y/n, please. Don’t be ridiculous." James quipped as he dropped into the armchair beside Remus. Remus's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he sighed and turned his attention to James. Soon enough, they were engrossed in their own conversation.

Sirius settled into the spot next to you, casually draping an arm over the back of the couch just behind your shoulders. As you leaned into his side and offered him a smile, he felt his cheeks flush with warmth. Your affectionate gestures toward him had always been present, but after last night, they seemed to intensify.

Your proximity never failed to make his heart skip a beat, and his stomach flutter. Despite his confidence in hiding his involuntary reactions to you, lately, it seemed more challenging for him to do so.

He greets you with the softest smile, his eyes reflecting warmth. "Hi, angel," he murmurs gently. Sirius had always affectionately called you angel, a term that secretly held a special place in your heart, one of your favorite things about him.

"Hi." You respond, a matching smile adorning your features, mirroring the comfort in his presence.

"I never got to thank you for last night." You admit, your tone filled with gratitude.

Shaking his head modestly, he insists, "You don’t have to thank me."

"It made me feel better having you there with me, so of course I want to thank you." You express earnestly, your appreciation evident in your words.

Sirius leans in, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers, "We still gotta talk about what you meant last night. By asking me to help you get over him."

Feeling a flush of embarrassment, you sputter out a response, "I’m not entirely sure what I meant. I figured you would know how to go about that."

"Why would I know how to go about that?" Sirius questions, genuine curiosity coloring his tone.

Shrugging, you admit, "I don’t know. I just thought you might have. You have way more experience with relationships than I do."

Sirius snorts, a wry grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "I wouldn’t call them relationships." he remarks, his mind briefly wandering through the array of flings he'd had in the past few years. None of them had left a lasting impression on him, none of them had made him feel the way you did.

You shrug, a hint of vulnerability in your expression. "It’s more experience than I have.”

Your voices remain hushed, a deliberate attempt to avoid drawing the attention of James and Remus. Yet, the intimate proximity between you and Sirius could easily spark curiosity on its own. You're practically nestled against his side, his warm breath brushing against your ear as he whispers. To any onlooker, it would seem as though you were lovers, exchanging sweet nothings in a quiet moment of intimacy.

He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, acutely aware of the gravity of his next question. He understands that the answer could severely hurt his feelings, "Are you in love with him?"

Your reaction is swift; you turn to him so abruptly that your noses nearly brush against each other. Sirius silently begs you to linger closer, but you withdraw just enough to maintain a respectable distance. He watches intently as you steal a glance at Remus, your bottom lip caught between your teeth in contemplation.

"No. But, honestly, it probably wouldn’t take much for me to fall in love with him." You confess, your words hanging in the air like a weight. Sirius needs a moment to recover, the impact of your admission hitting him harder than he had anticipated, despite mentally preparing himself for it.

You turn back to him, anguish evident in your voice, "How are you supposed to get over someone you’re nearly in love with?" Sirius hears the devastation in your tone, wishing he could convey that he genuinely comprehends that sentiment. However, delving into such explanations would only invite more questions, and that's the last thing he needs right now.

"I don’t know, angel." He responds simply, observing as you anxiously pick at your nails.

A quiet lull envelops you both before you speak up again, "I don’t think spending all my time with him helps. Maybe I should distance myself a little bit."

"You’re welcome to spend all that time with me instead." Sirius offers, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to his side. As you relax into his embrace, you rest your head on his shoulder. For a few precious minutes, you both sit in silence, lost in your own thoughts.

Remus glances over at you, nearly doing a double-take at the display of affection. You have closed your eyes, seemingly oblivious to Remus' stare, but Sirius him. For a brief, tense moment, Remus and Sirius lock eyes, but then James regains Remus' attention.

“Sirius?” You ask, the weariness evident in your voice.

“Yeah?”

“Remember when you told James to get over Lily that he needed to get under someone else?” Sirius immediately senses the direction of the conversation, and a pang of regret twinges in his chest.

“Yes.”

“Do you think that really works?” You inquire, your tone tinged with uncertainty and a hint of desperation.

“For some people, maybe.” Sirius replies cautiously. He wants to admit that such tactics haven’t proven successful for him and probably never will.

You pull away to look at him, your eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and uncertainty, “Would you help me find someone?”

"There’s no way in hell I’m doing that." Sirius responds firmly, his tone leaving little room for negotiation. But before you can protest, he interjects, "I’ll be your distraction."

"How exactly?" Your voice tinged with uncertainty, unsure of what he means.

"However, you need me. I know I’m not the best study partner, but I’ll run through your flashcards with you whenever you need to study," Sirius offers, his voice softening as he glances from you to Remus. “I know you guys would talk about books a lot, so I’ll read whatever book you’re reading just to discuss it with you. Whatever you want me to do, Y/n, I’ll do it.”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“You and Y/n were cozy on that couch,” James comments casually, his gaze fixed on the ceiling from where he's sprawled out on his bed. Sirius glances over his shoulder at him, pausing his furious writing at the desk where he's been hunched over for the last twenty minutes.

“Hm. I guess so.” Sirius replies nonchalantly, but his voice’s a subtle tension.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” James' tone carries a note of genuine concern, and Sirius immediately feels the weight of his friend's apprehension settling over the room like a heavy blanket.

“Working on my homework? Yeah, it’s probably my best one yet.” Sirius responds, his tone strained as he tries to maintain composure.

“About comforting the girl you love because she’s in love with your best mate.” James continues, his words cutting through the air like a knife. Sirius freezes, the quill leaving a streak of ink across the paper as his thoughts whirl.

He refuses to turn around and face James, not wanting to see the pitying look he knows will be on his friend's face. Instead, he runs his hand through his hair in frustration, his emotions simmering beneath the surface.

“Surprised you figured it out.” Sirius grumbles, his voice laced with a mixture of defensiveness and resignation. He doesn’t want to confront the truth about your feelings for Remus. The mere thought of you falling in love with someone other than him ignites a pang of jealousy in his chest.

He wants to correct James, to insist that you aren’t in love with Remus, but it feels futile. The reality is too close for comfort, and he can't shake the feeling of impending loss.

“About your feelings? Or hers?” James questions, his head leaning back against his headboard as he studies Sirius, his expression searching.

Sirius climbs onto his bed, letting out a sigh of frustration once his head hits his pillow, the weight of the conversation heavy on his mind. “Both,” he admits, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

“I didn’t notice until today with Y/n. She looked devastated when Adeline was all over Remus. On the other hand, I’ve known you’ve had feelings for her for years. The things you do for her, you wouldn’t do for anyone else.” James observes, his tone tinged with a mix of understanding and concern.

Sirius doesn’t know what to say in response, but deep down, he knows James is right. He’s always treated you differently, gone the extra mile for you in ways he wouldn't for anyone else. He had just hoped it wasn’t so obvious.

James sighs loudly, the weight of the situation hanging heavy in the air, “You gotta be careful, mate. You’re gonna get your feelings hurt.”

“I’d rather my feelings be hurt than hers.” Sirius responds earnestly, his voice carrying a hint of determination.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

It was official. Remus Lupin and Adeline Reyes were officially dating. The news didn’t come as a surprise; Remus had been bringing her around more often lately. She seamlessly integrated herself into your group dynamic, joining you all at breakfast some mornings and effortlessly engaging in conversation as if she had been there for years. Adeline adeptly kept pace with Sirius’ quick quips and could outwit James with a witty comeback. She was quick to include Peter whenever James unintentionally overshadowed him in conversation and was always eager to discuss the next book you planned to read.

It was horrifically frustrating.

You wanted to dislike her, but deep down, you knew it was just jealousy clouding your judgment. Adeline was undeniably genuine and sweet; you could easily envision yourself becoming good friends with her. However, every time she affectionately pressed her lips to Remus’ cheeks or leaned into his side, it felt like a sharp pang reminding you of your own feelings and the heartwrenching situation you found yourself in.

It left a bitter taste in your mouth. Just a few weeks ago, that was your spot, and you were blissfully unaware of his feelings for another girl. You felt foolish, caught off guard. Was it all in your head? Had you merely romanticized every interaction with him? Built up a scenario that never truly existed?

"Y/n, this is the third time you've spaced out. Are you alright?" Lily's concerned voice broke through your thoughts as she settled beside you on the bed. Despite James's insistence on a get-together downstairs, you found your mind drifting elsewhere. It had been a couple of weeks since Remus and Adeline declared their relationship, and ever since then, your thoughts had been in turmoil.

You shrugged, "I'm okay. I just don't think I'm up for a party tonight."

"You haven't seemed in the party mood for weeks." Marlene remarked, her attention fixed on her reflection as she applied lip gloss. Sensing something amiss, she pivoted abruptly to face you.

"Is this about Remus and Adeline?" Lily's direct question made your stomach plummet.

"I, uh—no." You stammered, feeling as startled as you looked by her inquiry.

"Godric, you're a horrible liar." Marlene remarked, tossing the tube of sparkly gloss onto her bed before striding over to her trunk and flinging it open. "It's okay to miss your best friend. You two are practically glued to each other's sides. I'm sure it's odd not spending as much time with him anymore."

Lily observed the subtle shift in your demeanor as Marlene spoke, although Marlene herself was entirely engrossed in rummaging through her clothes until she emitted a satisfied hum.

Shoving a floral sundress into your hands, Marlene declared, "Here, you're not wearing your uniform tonight. Wearing something cute will make you feel better." Your fingers traced over the silky material, white with colorful flowers scattered across it. Marlene observed as you held up the dress, eyeing the spaghetti straps and milkmaid top with uncertainty.

"It's winter, Marlene." You pointed out your tone laced with practicality.

"We're inside. But if you do get cold, I’m sure Sirius would gladly warm you up." Marlene chirped, grinning at your surprised expression.

"Sirius is not going to warm me up." You grumbled as you stood up and headed to the bathroom with the dress in hand. With the door shut, you changed out of your uniform. You had to admit, the dress was pretty. Maybe Marlene was right; wearing something cute would boost your confidence and mood.

"Are you sure? You two have been awfully cozy lately!" Lily's laughter laced her tone as she called through the door. You slipped the dress on, then twisted in front of the mirror to assess how it looked. Concluding that you liked it, you also appreciated how it made you feel slightly brighter. It reminded you of a summer spent in Italy with your parents, where you practically lived in sundresses.

You turn open the door and twirl for the girls, who squeal in appreciation. Marlene snatches the lip gloss she had tossed aside, grabbing at your cheeks to dot some on your lips.

"We haven’t been cozy. We’re just acting like friends do." You mumble, your words slightly muffled from your cheeks being squished.

“Bullshit! You never snuggled Peter, never did with James before he got himself a girlfriend,” Marlene turned to wink at Lily. “Honestly, you never did with Remus either. But you and Sirius have been all over each other.”

“We have not!” You deny it, looking to Lily for support. But she only leans back on her hands and sends you a smug smile.

"The other day, I walked into the common room with James, and you were practically asleep on Sirius’ lap while he read to you.” Lily grins.

“He was reading to you? That’s the cutest thing I have ever heard. That’s your love language right there!” Marlene's gasp was filled with awe, and you didn't know how to respond. Because you had indeed fallen asleep on his lap while Sirius twirled a strand of your hair between his fingers absentmindedly as he read Pride and Prejudice to you. You hardly comprehended the story, too focused on Sirius’ voice and his gentle touch. It was the first time in weeks that you hadn’t thought of Remus.

“It was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen Sirius do.” Lily agreed, nodding in approval. “I’m telling you, he has feelings for you. I’ve thought so ever since 5th year. He pretty much confirmed it when he gave you that red tulip.”

“A declaration of love!” Marlene practically sang, her excitement contagious.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

As you reached the bottom step with Marlene and Lily, you let out a sigh. The common room was bustling, with students scattered everywhere, making the air feel stuffy and warm. You briefly pondered what James’ definition of a get-together was, because this felt more like a full-blown party.

“James said he invited hardly anyone.” You muttered to Lily, who nodded in agreement.

“He’s a social butterfly, you never know with him.” Lily replied with a shrug, craning her neck to spot James amidst the crowd. She eventually spotted him near the fireplace, engaged in lively conversation with Sirius and a few other members of the Quidditch team. You allowed Lily to lead you through the throng of people, observing the lively atmosphere around you. Marlene had already disappeared into the crowd, no doubt on a mission to find Dorcas.

You can hear him before you see him: Sirius’ hearty laugh resonates over the music and the crowd’s chatter. It's a remarkable sound, drawing attention effortlessly. And there he is, standing tall next to James by the fireplace, a drink held casually in one hand while the other gestures animatedly as he converses with the guy beside him. Clad in a simple black T-shirt, Sirius exudes a captivating charm, and you can't help but admire how good he looks in the flickering firelight.

Though you'd never admit it aloud, Lily had been onto something. You and Sirius had been spending an increasing amount of time together. True to his word, Sirius had been a genuine distraction from your heartache. The activities you once shared with Remus were gradually being replaced by moments with Sirius.

It was no longer Remus, who you sat next to in the morning. No longer Remus, who you reviewed your flashcards with. No longer Remus, who would sit with you next to Black Lake and chat about your latest book. And no longer Remus, who would hold your hand to calm your anxiety every time you had to speak up in front of the class.

But it wasn’t like you had asked Sirius to do any of these things. It was Sirius who had started it, not in an attempt to replace what you had with Remus, but to remind you that he was there for you. That he would do anything to make you feel loved. Sirius wasn’t doing any of this because he felt obligated. He did it because he wanted you to know that you weren’t alone and that he didn’t plan on leaving any time soon.

But there were things that Sirius did that Remus had never done. Every morning, a cup of your favorite tea awaited at your spot next to him. He carried one of your scrunchies in his bag because you could never keep track of them, even offering to tie your hair up for you. Each time he walked around Black Lake, he brought you back a red tulip, which you tucked into the vase on your desk next to the others. You were building up quite the collection.

Sirius bursts into laughter, but his mirth is interrupted by James' boisterous greeting. The sudden volume jerks your attention away from Sirius, and you find yourself facing Lily, who offers a halfhearted protest as James envelops her in a bear hug. You brace yourself as James turns his attention to you, lifting you up despite your protests about your dress. After he sets you down, a moment of imbalance is quickly rectified as you feel an arm slip around your waist, steadying you against someone's chest.

"He's had a few too many." Sirius whispers into your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. You lean into his embrace, relishing the warmth and familiarity of his touch before turning around to face him.

With your palms pressed against his chest, you offer him a warm smile. "Hi."

He still holds onto his drink, but his pointer finger slips under the strap of your dress, giving it a gentle tug. "This is cute," he murmurs, his voice now hushed compared to the near shouting from a minute ago. His eyes meet yours, and you feel a wave of warmth spread through you. No one has ever looked at you the way he's looking at you right now.

"Thank you." You reply softly, surprised at the tenderness in your own voice. But you know he hears you as he smiles before turning back to the conversation he was having with a few other guys.

Pushing down your disappointment, you adjust the straps of your dress and take a breath, scanning the room for someone else to chat with. However, Sirius surprises you by wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you gently into his side. He continues to talk, his voice much quieter this time, but the three subtle squeezes let you know he's still there if you need him.

Lily catches your eye and mouths, "I told you so."

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You hadn't intended to eavesdrop, it was just a coincidence that you found yourself in the vicinity at that moment.

"You know, everyone thought you and Y/n were gonna get together." Peter remarks, nudging Remus in the side. Remus turns to him, likely taken aback. From your vantage point, you can't see their faces, but you recognize their silhouettes. They're seated together on one of the couches, engaged in quiet conversation amid the lively atmosphere of the party. You had briefly slipped away from Sirius to grab a drink, but now you're starting to regret your decision.

"Y/n and I?" Remus's response is laced with surprise, confirming your suspicions. You stand frozen, a few feet away from the couch, feeling your stomach plummet.

"Yeah, I think most people thought you already were. I mean, you guys spent so much time together." Peter continues, oblivious to the impact of his words. You try to avoid lingering on the past tense word.

"No, never," Remus hastily interjects. “I don’t think I could think of Y/n like that.” His words landed like a heavy blow to your chest. You feel a pang of disappointment and hurt ripple through you, sitting heavy in your stomach. With tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you pivot on your heel and stride purposefully toward your dormitory.

As you navigate through the bustling crowd, your lips utter excuse me, and I need to get through in a mechanical cadence. Each step feels heavier than the last, burdened by the weight of Remus's words and the shattered illusions they bring.

Finally, the door to your dormitory swings shut behind you with a resounding thud, the noise a stark contrast to the chaos of the party below. Alone in the silence of your room, you confront the raw emotions swirling within you, grappling with the harsh reality of unrequited feelings.

Tears blur your vision so severely that you nearly trip over your shoes in your haste to remove them. With trembling hands, you toss the covers over your body, seeking refuge in the soft embrace of your bed. You bury your face into the welcoming embrace of your pillow, heedless of the inevitable mascara stains that will be left behind. A strangled sob escapes your lips, muffled by the sanctuary of your pillow, as you grapple with the overwhelming wave of emotions crashing over you.

The noise of the party downstairs serves as a comforting cloak, allowing you to release your emotions freely and without judgment.

The abruptness with which Remus shut down any possibility of harboring feelings for you cuts deep, like a dagger to the heart. The ache in your chest feels all-consuming, a relentless reminder that you will never be with him. Despite the rational part of your mind knowing that his affection for Adeline precludes any possibility of reciprocating your feelings, the emotional turmoil still wreaks havoc on your fragile heart.

In the solitude of your room, you allow yourself to cry. With each passing moment, the ache in your chest deepens.

"Y/n? Oh, Godric." Lily exclaims, rushing to your side with concern etched across her features. She gathers your hair away from your tear-streaked face, her eyes taking in the sight before her: cheeks flushed and blotchy, mascara-tinged tears tracing down your cheeks, your hair in disarray. She had sensed something amiss when she spotted you hurrying up the stairs, but the depth of your distress caught her off guard.

"Y/n, what can I do? Do you want a glass of water? Can I, uh..." Lily's voice trembles with worry as she looks around the room, searching for anything that might bring you comfort. She's witnessed your tears before, but never like this, leaving her feeling utterly helpless.

"I don't need water. Can you..." Your voice breaks, choked with emotion, making it difficult to articulate your thoughts.

Lily watches as you clutch your pillow tighter, waiting for your next words. "Can I what?" She prompts gently.

"I just need..." You falter, another sob escaping your lips. "Sirius. I need Sirius."

Without hesitation, Lily nods, determined to find Sirius and bring him to your side. As she exits your dorm, you sink deeper into your pillow, allowing the tears to flow freely. Your mind races with questions, grappling with how to face Remus again and feign normalcy.

You're not completely taken aback by his words; the past few weeks have allowed you to gradually accept that Remus may not share your feelings. Yet, processing this realization privately was less painful than hearing his firm denial of any possibility of reciprocation. Perhaps there's a tinge of sorrow in acknowledging this truth, as it signifies a shift in your relationship with Remus—one that might never be quite the same again. Accepting this reality proves to be a bitter pill to swallow.

"Angel," Your body instinctively relaxes at the soothing sound of Sirius’s voice. The pillow is gently drawn from your grip, revealing Sirius’ concerned face as it comes into view. "What can I do? What do you need?" he asks, his tone brimming with genuine concern and care.

Kneeling by the side of your bed, his eyes brim with concern, evoking emotion that threatens to overwhelm you once more. You lie on your side, facing him, your makeup smudged and your eyes swollen from tears. Despite your disheveled appearance, he finds you the most beautiful girl in the world.

"Hold on." He murmurs softly before disappearing into your bathroom. The sound of running water fills the silence, a gentle reminder of his comforting presence. Moments later, he returns with a damp cloth in hand, his touch gentle yet firm as he kneels before you. With tender care, he cradles your jaw, his movements deliberate as he gently wipes away the remnants of makeup from your face, his actions speaking volumes of his unwavering support and affection.

"All clean," he whispers softly, discarding the cloth onto the ground with the intention of dealing with it later. "What do you need?"

"You." You sniffle, tugging gently at his hand to convey your desire for him to join you in bed. Without hesitation, Sirius kicks off his shoes and slips under the covers beside you. With a tender gesture, he reaches out, his hand gently brushing the hair away from your face as he settles in beside you. Your faces hover mere inches apart, a tantalizing proximity that he tries to distract from by focusing on the simple task of brushing your hair away, the urge to kiss you tugging at the corners of his mind.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you away from the party." You murmur apologetically, your gaze meeting his. His eyes snap to yours, a flicker of offense crossing his features.

"I would drop anything for you." He responds earnestly, his sincerity shining through in his words, leaving no room for doubt. A sharp inhale escapes your lips as you stare back at him, the weight of his commitment settling between you.

"What happened, angel?" he asks gently, his eyes reflecting a hint of guilt for prying. As your eyes well up with tears once more, Sirius feels a pang of remorse for pressing the matter. He's about to apologize and suggest forgetting about it when you offer an answer, leaving him momentarily speechless.

"I overheard Peter and Remus." You confess, your voice trembling with vulnerability. Sirius forces down the surge of jealousy that threatens to consume him at the mention of Remus.

"Peter told him that everyone thought he and I would get together." You continue, your words hanging in the air, heavy with disappointment and hurt. Sirius listens attentively, his heart aching for the pain etched in your voice.

"Remus told him that he couldn’t ever see me like that." You reveal, your voice wavering with emotion. "I know it’s stupid since he has a girlfriend, but-" You pause to draw in a shuddering breath, and Sirius gently brushes away the tears that cascade down your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose.

"It hurt," you confess, the rawness of your emotions laid bare. "That he’s never once seen me the way I have always seen him. We’ve always been just friends, and it sucks." Each word carries the weight of your longing and disappointment.

Sirius sighs, his voice tinged with empathy, "I love Remus, I do, but he can be blind sometimes. So in his head and down on himself that he misses what’s in front of him. And he truly missed out on the most perfect girl there is. But I promise you that there is a guy out there who will recognize what an angel you are, and he won’t ever let you go."

Your eyes well up with tears again, and Sirius starts to panic that he said something wrong. But then you're wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your head into the crook of his neck.

Your voice is muffled as you speak, "Please stay here with me tonight?"

"Whatever you want, angel." Sirius responds tenderly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, knowing there is no way he’d ever be able to deny you.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

James looks bewildered. "You aren’t going to sit with us?" he asks, confusion evident in his voice.

You stand behind your typical spot, observing the boys' reactions as they stare at you as though you've just delivered the worst news imaginable. For years, ever since you had met the boys, you had been sitting with them every day. This spot held a sense of familiarity and comfort, a symbol of your friendship with them. Thus, your decision to sit with the girls today comes as a major surprise.

Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas occupy seats further down the table. While they would occasionally join your circle, especially after Lily and James got together, Lily had once confided in you that she valued having space and prioritizing her friendships, too; she didn’t want to spend all her time with James. To everyone's surprise, James had been okay with this arrangement and had even agreed.

“I’m going to sit down the table with the girls. You’ll still be able to see me; we can wave at each other!” You offer James a hopeful smile, but he shakes his head, letting out a dramatic sigh.

Pointing his fork in your direction, James asserts, “It’s not the same, and you know it.”

“Sit with us, I feel like I hardly see you.” Remus protests and your stomach sinks as you make eye contact with him. Ever since you overheard Remus tell Peter he didn’t have feelings for you, you had been finding every excuse possible to avoid him.

It’s been a week since the party, and you can now admit that you've successfully avoided any alone time with Remus. By now, it's clear he senses something amiss. Every time he tries to approach you, you have an excuse ready for why you can't study together again or why you can't chat. What's worse is that it's only him you're avoiding. You still engage in normal chats with Peter in the common room and banter back and forth with James as usual. And Sirius, well, you hardly leave his side. Wherever you go, Sirius isn't far away, a constant presence by your side.

Not only that, but it seemed as if you couldn't get enough of each other—cuddled up on the common room couch, shoulder to shoulder during meals, and always side by side while walking to Black Lake. Sirius and you were growing increasingly closer with each passing day.

It was driving Remus crazy.

He looks at you pleadingly, his expression betraying the torment of seeing you drift away from him. You know his distress can't stem solely from your decision to sit with the girls. He started pulling away first, you think bitterly.

"Just wanted to spend some time with the girls, switch things up." You explain with a casual shrug, feeling a sense of awkwardness creeping over you as you shift on your feet. Remus wears a disappointed expression, while James and Peter appear to have already moved on, engaged in a bickering match over who gets the last orange.

"You've been switching things up quite a bit lately." Remus grumbles under his breath, his voice barely audible over the morning chatter in the dinning hall. Only Adeline catches his words as she pulls away to glance at his face, startled by the bitterness in his tone. Unaware of her scrutiny, Remus remains fixated on you, his expression betraying a mixture of longing and frustration.

"Okay, well, I’ll catch you guys later." You announce with a smile, and at that moment, Sirius glances up at you. He wants to tell you how much he'll miss you. Every morning, he eagerly anticipates the sight of your smile, the way you playfully bump your shoulder into his once you take your spot beside him. Your laughter and sweet smile are the highlights of his morning routine.

He'd gladly join you for breakfast with the girls if you asked.

To everyone's surprise, you sling your arms around Sirius' shoulders and tilt your head forward, looking at him from the side. Caught off guard, Sirius freezes in your embrace, trying desperately not to read too much into your unexpected touch.

"I'll wait for you so we can walk to class together. I'll miss you." You whisper, your lips pressing gently onto his cheek. A faint pink sheen of your lipgloss remains on his skin in the shape of your lips, a subtle reminder of your affection.

Before he can respond, you're already pulling away, leaving Sirius to watch you walk back to the girls. His cheeks flush, his mouth slightly parted in surprise. Remus narrows his eyes at the mark you've left behind while Adeline observes the interaction between Sirius and Remus, sensing Remus's agitation.

James lets out a low whistle. "She'll miss you, will she?" he remarks, his tone laced with amusement and curiosity.

“Oh fuck off, mate.” Sirius grumbles before taking a sip of his tea to try and hide his smile.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You sigh, slumping down in your chair, "I don’t think I can handle another flashcard."

Sirius glances up from across the table, finding you lost in contemplation as you stare out the window. It's midday, and the sun's gentle rays illuminate the library, casting a warm glow despite the lingering chill outside. You both share the longing to step into the crisp air outdoors, yet Sirius remained steadfast in his commitment to assisting you with your studies.

"Do you wanna take a break?" Sirius asks, his gaze meeting yours as you glance up from the pile of books and notes spread out before you. Your lips press together, betraying the weight of your internal debate about whether you can afford to step away from your tasks.

"Come on, we can go for a walk." He encourages, his tone gentle yet persuasive as he begins to gather his belongings, preparing to pack his bag.

You concede, “A quick walk.”

The fresh air and the warmth of the sun against your skin felt rejuvenating after spending hours cooped up in the library. Your body ached, and your brain felt numb from the relentless studying. The only thing that kept you going was Sirius, who would slip you pieces of chocolate every time you answered a question correctly. Without him, you would have abandoned your studies hours ago.

As you walk, both of you are enveloped in a quiet tranquility, lost in your own thoughts. It's a comfortable silence, where neither of you feels compelled to fill the gaps with conversation. Instead, you simply bump into each other occasionally, exchanging shy smiles that speak volumes without a single word being uttered.

"Where are you taking me, Black?" You finally inquire, noting the direction as you pass Black Lake. You stroll leisurely, savoring the symphony of birdsong in the trees and the distant chatter of other students gradually fading into the background. Leaves shudder in response to the gentle breeze, prompting you to wrap your robes tighter around your body. Winter is approaching, and the biting chill in the air serves as a stark reminder of the season's impending arrival.

Sirius smiles in response, his expression warm and inviting, "Somewhere I think you'll like."

"Have I been there before?" You cast a glance at him, observing his wind-blown hair, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and his bottom lip gently caught between his teeth.

"I hope not." He responds honestly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. The possibility lingers, given that the boys are familiar with this field as well. The mere thought of Remus bringing you here tightens his chest. After all, you and Remus often took walks together, so it wouldn't be too surprising if he had.

Would Remus have brought you here, though? Sirius contemplates quietly. He's never heard you mention it, but he knows you would have. You've always cherished exploring the castle and eagerly shared your discoveries with the boys.

Sirius is startled when you suddenly gasp, excitement laced in your tone, "Oh my Godric. Is that a field of tulips?"

Sirius feels his heart swell at the excitement in your voice. Before he can respond, you stride ahead of him, drawn to the swath of red flowers like a magnet. He remains where he stands, content to watch you as you explore the vibrant field.

A pang of longing washes over him as he wishes he had Lily's muggle camera. This moment would undoubtedly be captured and proudly displayed above his desk among his collection of Polaroids.

"C'mere!" You call out excitedly, your hand extended towards him. Sirius grins, his heart lightening at your enthusiasm as he walks over to join you. Once he reaches you, he gladly grasps your hand, feeling a rush of warmth at the connection.

You lead him further into the field, your laughter carrying on the gentle breeze. Finally, you drop into the middle of the sea of tulips, tugging him along with you, and for a moment, the world feels suspended in the beauty of the moment.

Tilting your head towards the sun, you sigh happily. "I didn’t know this was here," you remark, your voice filled with wonder.

"Found it with the boys a couple of weeks ago." Sirius responds, his fingers idly twirling a blade of grass he plucked from the ground.

"Did you pick the tulips you gave me from here?" You inquire, your voice soft with curiosity. Sirius nods in response, a faint blush gracing his cheeks as he recalls the memory. He's relieved that your eyes are still closed, blissfully unaware of his flustered state.

For a few minutes, a comfortable silence settles between you both, allowing the tranquility of the moment to envelop you like a warm embrace.

"Can I tell you something?" You ask, tilting your head back down to look at him, your gaze soft yet curious.

"Anything," Sirius replies, his voice filled with warmth and genuine interest.

"I've never been given flowers before. Whenever you give me a tulip, it's the highlight of my day." You admit softly, shifting so you're sitting with your legs crossed, a vulnerable honesty coloring your words.

"You've never been given flowers? Ever?" Sirius questions, his surprise evident in his tone and expression. You shake your head in response, confirming his disbelief.

He can't even fathom it. How could no one ever have given you flowers before? How does the girl who constantly doodles flowers on her notes never receive them? The thought perplexes him, stirring a mix of incredulity and a newfound determination to ensure you receive the appreciation you deserve.

"Guess I'll be making up for that then." Sirius decides, his voice showing determination as he sends you a devastating smile. Your stomach flutters at the sight.

"Sirius." you say softly, drawing his attention.

"What, angel?" He responds, his tone gentle and attentive.

"Thank you. For being by my side through everything." You express with sincerity, your voice filled with gratitude.

In the past few weeks, Sirius has been a constant presence by your side. Whenever Remus kissed Adeline, Sirius would offer a comforting touch, silently understanding your feelings. He'd weave silly stories to divert your attention from Adeline's flirtations with Remus, ensuring you never felt alone for even a moment.

He grins in response, "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

“Nowhere else, huh?” Your tone is teasing, and Sirius merely rolls his eyes at you, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. You observe him as he picks tulips one by one, gradually assembling a bundle in his hand. Watching him put together a bouquet that you know he will give you fills you with a sense of anticipation. Everything about sitting in a field of flowers with Sirius makes you feel lightheaded as if you're caught in a blissful dream.

Come to think of it, lately, every time Sirius did something for you, it left you feeling dizzy.

"You know it's true. I ditched Hogsmeade this weekend to spend time with you in the library." Sirius says, a hint of amusement in his voice as he recalls the decision.

"That's true, but I did advise you against it. I doubt a day in the library is much of a weekend highlight for you." You reply, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"If you think seeing you surrounded by a field of flowers isn't a weekend highlight, then you're sorely mistaken. Easily a monthly highlight for me." Sirius adds, his eyes sparkling with fondness as he gazes at you amidst the scenic beauty.

“You flirt.” You giggle, your laughter echoing in the tranquil atmosphere, before reclining on the grass and shutting your eyes.

Sirius' features soften at your playful remark. "Only for my favorite girl," he responds tenderly, his voice carrying warmth and affection as he watches over you.

What started as a short walk stretched into two hours spent in the flower field, immersed in conversation and selecting the loveliest blooms together. By the end, Sirius presented you with a bundle of tulips in various hues. Upon entering your dorm room with the flowers in hand, Lily's gasp was so pronounced that it startled you.

“Tell me that Sirius got you those.”

"He picked them for me." You beam, offering the bouquet to Lily for her admiration. "I mean, I helped too, but it was mostly him.”

“Who knew that he was such a romantic?” Marlene gushed, sitting next to Lily on her bed to take a peek.

“I told you he’s into you! Look at these flowers!” Lily cried out, flopping back onto her bed with the flowers pressed into her chest. Marlene laughs from beside her.

You rolled your eyes affectionately, “We're just friends.” Marlene scoffs.

"No, you're not. That little stunt at breakfast you pulled this morning. Hugging him from behind and kissing him? Definitely not platonic." Marlene remarks, her tone teasing yet observant. Embarrassment floods through you; you hadn't planned on being so affectionate with Sirius; it just happened. You're grateful Sirius didn't bring it up; you probably would have collapsed if he had.

"I just kissed his cheek!" you defend, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.

Lily grins mischievously. "You should've seen how he looked at you when you walked away."

"Totally lovesick!" Marlene exclaims, adding her enthusiastic agreement to Lily's observation.

"Both of you are being ridiculous. He doesn’t have feelings for me, and even if he did, I need to get over Remus first." Taking the bouquet from Lily, you stride toward your desk to add them to your glass jar full of other flowers. You're almost out of the room. Soon you’ll have to pluck out the ones that are dropping, but you don’t have the heart to do it yet.

The girls were fully aware of the situation. You explained to them why you were so upset the morning after the party. There was no way you could have pretended like something wasn’t wrong. With Sirius sleeping in your bed and your swollen eyes, there was no hiding anything.

"First?" Lily's voice carries a hint of excitement, exchanging a giddy look with Marlene.

You pivot, leaning against your desk. "What?"

"You said first. Like once you get over Remus, you could see yourself being with Sirius."

"No, I didn't." You protest, embarrassment flooding your stomach.

Marlene's grin widens mischievously as she exchanges a knowing glance with Lily. "Oh, but you did. We both heard you."

A nervous laugh escapes your lips as you playfully roll your eyes, "Oh, fuck off, guys.”

Your friends continue to tease you, their laughter filling the room. Perhaps you were starting to form feelings for Sirius, but you preferred to keep them close to your heart, away from the probing eyes of Lily and Marlene, who always seemed to pick up on every subtle shift in your emotions.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“There you are! I was worried sick!” James exclaims as Sirius opens the door to the dorm. Remus glances up from his book, while Peter remains focused on his homework, unfazed by James' dramatics. Sirius, lost in memories of his afternoon with you, barely registers James' words as he flops onto his bed, a goofy smile lingering on his lips.

It's only when James tosses his pillow at Sirius that he snaps back to reality.

“Oi! What was that for?” Sirius protests, finally acknowledging James' presence with a bemused expression.

“You’re ignoring me!” James accuses, crossing his arms.

Sirius stammers, “I wasn’t! I was just-“

James interrupts, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Daydreaming about Y/n? What did you two get up to anyways?”

Remus stiffens, lowering his book to look at Sirius, “You were with Y/n today?”

Sirius sits back up and exchanges a tense glance with Remus, “Yeah, I was.”

He turns to James, “Helped her study a bit.” He neglects to mention the flower field, wanting to keep that memory to himself. Plus, he knows the boys will tease them every chance they get.

James stares at Sirius, incredulity flashing across his face. "That's all? Sounds boring. Should've come to Hogsmeade with us."

Sirius is about to respond when Remus interjects, his tone betraying a hint of disbelief. "I'm sorry. You turned down Hogsmeade to study? With Y/n?" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

Sirius shrugs, his tone nonchalant. "No need, mate. I've got her."

Remus furrows his brow, considering Sirius's response. "I can still ask her, give her another option," he suggests casually, but there's an undertone of something that Sirius can't quite decipher.

Sirius tenses, meeting Remus's gaze head-on. He's unsure if Remus is hinting at something deeper or if he's simply offering another study option. Nevertheless, Sirius feels a pang of reluctance at the thought of giving up his time with you, even for studying.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Peter huffed, practically slamming himself on the couch next to you, his frustration evident in the way he dropped onto the couch. “Remus and Adeline are getting on my last nerve.”

James glanced up from where he was sitting across from you, his attention momentarily diverted from the game of cards. His eyebrows raised in curiosity as he observed Peter's demeanor. "They makin’ out in the dorm again?" he questioned, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You turn your head to hide your reaction, your stomach churning with familiar discomfort. After nearly two months of their relationship, you still felt uneasy hearing about them together, effectively reminding you of your lingering feelings for Remus.

It would be a lie to say that your feelings for Remus hadn’t changed. In fact, you were beginning to notice a subtle shift in your perspective, a gradual easing of the discomfort that once swarmed your chest at the sight of him and Adeline together. That twinge of jealousy you used to feel when looking at them was easing up, instead being replaced by a dull ache in your chest.

You found yourself increasingly preoccupied with thoughts of Sirius, his image and the memories of your time together occupying your mind more frequently than before. You caught yourself smiling at the little moments you shared, replaying conversations and gestures, finding comfort in the warmth of his presence even when he wasn't around.

Peter shook his head against the cushion, his expression irritated. "No, they’re bickering. They've been at it for nearly twenty minutes. Couldn’t get a damn thing done on this essay.”

James wore a look of surprise as he arched his eyebrow, “They’re fighting?”

Peter looked away from the fire to glance over at James blankly, “No, bickering. There’s a difference.” His tone is matter-of-fact and laced with frustration.

“We’ll be quiet, Peter. Work on your essay.” You promise, sending the blond boy a soft smile.

James’ lips curve in a mischievous grin, eyes lit up with amusement, “Guess all relationships have to come out of the honeymoon phase.” He quips, tone playful with satisfaction. Peter sighs, tipping his head back onto the headrest of the couch like he can’t take anymore.

“James, it’s your turn.” You call, the gentle tap of your pointer finger against the cards catches his attention. His eyes flicker down to the cards sprawled between you both before glancing back up at you.

“Did you at least appreciate my pun?” He asks, a hopeful upturn of his lips present.

“It was wonderful.” You affirm, voice soft as if you’re telling a young child that their artwork is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

James’s face lights up with a satisfied smile, and his voice is full of teasing gratitude, “Thank you, Y/n. I knew you would have my back.”

“What does she have your back about?” Sirius’ voice cuts through the air, his sudden appearance causing you and James to glance over at him. Peter opens one eye as Sirius sits on the couch next to him.

James stares at the cards while debating his next move, “She appreciates me for who I am. Maybe you should take some notes from her.”

Sirius hardly hears James. Instead, his eyes flicker over to you. He finds himself entranced by the subtle movements of your features, the way your eyebrows furrow in playful impatience as you await James to decide. The glow from the fire is dancing over your face, and he has the urge to reach out and touch your cheek, tracing over where the heat has touched. You look gorgeous like this, drenched in the soft light of the fire and so at ease. The words are at the tip of his tongue, but he swallows them down.

As your eyes meet his, a gentle smile graces your lips, and Sirius feels his stomach flip and heart stutter. You’re looking at him with so much warmth that you could rival the fire next to you, and he knows he never wants to forget the way you’re looking at him.

Amidst the crackle of the fire and the soft murmurs of the surrounding conversations, it’s then that Sirius is struck by the sudden realization that sends shockwaves throughout his entire body. He is hit with the truth that he’s been avoiding for ages; he is entirely and desperately in love with you.

Sirius grapples with a fact that feels almost suffocating in its intensity. His gaze falls to his lap, the reality of his situation weighing heavily upon him. He’s in love with a girl who holds feelings for someone else. Not just someone else, but Remus. His best mate, who, as of lately, has shown increasing concern about the nature of your relationship with Sirius. The way he pinches his brows together when you laugh at a joke Sirius makes, the subtle shifts in his demeanor whenever you show Sirius affection- it’s all Sirius can focus on. Remus sees you in a different light, and it’s making Sirius uneasy.

And so, he sits in silence, grappling with the truth that he’s fallen for a girl that will never be his.

“Sirius,” You say softly, your hand gently resting atop his, hoping to bring him back from his thoughts. His eyes dart up to meet yours, and you smile softly. “You okay? You’re quiet.”

No, he isn’t.

But instead, he offers a reassuring smile and squeezes your hand, “I’m okay, angel. Just tired.”

“Not too tired to lose to me in cards, are you?” James interjects, sporting a cocky grin and cracking his knuckles in intimidation. “I’m tired of playing with Y/n. She wins every time.”

Sirius laughs, hauling himself off the couch to sit beside you both before shuffling the cards.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“Y/n.” You startle at Remus’ voice, nearly spilling your cup of tea down your front. He sends you a soft smile, sitting beside you on the couch. You set your tea on the table next to you. Sitting up and shifting your legs to the side and underneath you, you make room for him. The way you were stretched out before hardly allowed him any room.

“Rem.” You greet him, sending him a gentle smile. The corners of his mouth lift at the nickname; he hasn’t heard it for a while.

He leans back against the couch, gaze firm on you, “How was your day?” His voice is gentle and soothing. His voice was always one of your favorite things about him, always a source of comfort to you.

“It’s been alright, not too much to say about it,” Your left shoulder lifts up into a shrug, and you rest your right arm against the couch to prop your head up. Bodies both facing each other. “How was yours?”

“James nearly singed off my eyebrows in potions,” He says amusedly. He’s got bags under his, and his body seems tired. You cringe when you remember the full moon was just a few days ago.

“Not entirely surprising,” You remark with a laugh, mind trailing to all the times James had proved himself not the best partner. As much as you loved James, his tendency to get distracted had cost you during classes plenty of times before.

“How’s Adeline?” You ask politely, the words coming out with practiced ease despite the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. Remus’s smile falters, and he lets out a sigh, gaze drifting away from you.

“I don’t know.” He admits, hand coming up to run through his hair. He won’t meet your eye.

“You don’t know?” Your brow is quirks in curiosity, and genuine concern is etched onto your features. Memories of Peter complaining about the two bickering flickers back from a week ago.

“She’s not happy,” Remus confesses, his tone is heavy with resignation. “Disappearing for a couple days doesn’t exactly make me boyfriend of the year.”

You nod sympathetically. You understand, if you were in the dark about your boyfriend’s whereabouts for a couple days, you would be upset as well.

“Are you going to tell her?” You asked gently. It felt weird to talk to Remus again after going nearly two months without much interaction. All your time used to be spent with Remus, but Sirius seems to have taken that spot nowadays.

His gaze meets yours as he nervously bites at his bottom lip, he seems apprehensive,“I don’t know if she could handle it.”

“Rem,” You begin, voice soft and resolute, a reflection of the support you have always offered him. Despite the change in your relationship, your commitment to being there for him remains. “She deserves to know, especially if the two of you want to be together.”

His brows are pinched tightly together as he wrings his hands together, “What if she doesn’t take it well? What if she tells-”

You interject gently, “You’ve been dating two months, you should have a feel for how she would react.”

He meets your eye with an uncertainty, “Y/n.”

“Yeah?” You respond, voice quiet.

“I don’t know if I can tell her. I don’t think it will be as easy as telling you was.”

“You shouldn’t compare her to me.”

“But I do.” Remus whispers, the gravity of his admission catching you off guard. His shoulders are hunched over as he rests his elbows on his knees, hands still nervously wringing together as he looks over at you.

Your breath is caught in your throat. You break eye contact to clear your throat, shifting uneasily on the couch.

“Adeline is your girlfriend, and I’m just your friend. You really shouldn’t compare us, Rem. If you want to be with Adeline, you should really think about telling her.” You murmur, truth stinging as it leaves your mouth.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Marlene sighs, her voice laced with playful incredulity, "Sometimes I wonder how James Potter managed to get you." Sirius barks out a laugh from his spot across from you, his amusement echoing around the room. Lily's mischievous grin widens as she shoots a playful wink at Marlene, enjoying the banter.

"I'm a damn catch, McKinnon!" James retorts dramatically, pulling Lily even closer into his side, the affection between them palpable. Lily leans up to press a kiss on James’ jaw, a tender moment amidst the playful teasing.

"That lapdance you just gave your girlfriend? Horrific." Marlene shakes her head with exaggerated disdain, her expression a mix of amusement and mock disgust.

"If you didn't wanna see it, then you wouldn't have dared me to do it," James fires back with a smirk, the competitive edge still in his tone.

You're all gathered in a circle, indulging in a juvenile game of truth or dare. The boys took charge, rearranging the furniture into a circle so everyone could sit comfortably.

Marlene had insisted upon it, likely hoping to be roped into a dare that would bring her closer to Dorcas.

You're seated on one of the couches beside Lily, with James on her other side and Peter beside him. Adeline occupies the space to Peter’s left, seated next to Remus on one of the smaller couches. Sirius has claimed an armchair for himself. Marlene and Dorcas are cozied up in another armchair, much to Marlene's delight over the seating arrangement.

While Remus had yet to tell Adeline about his lycanthropy, he was attempting to make amends with her. You sent him a sweet smile and thumbs up when you saw them walking in together. It was clearly tense between the two, but that was to be expected.

Amidst the laughter and playful exchanges, you had failed to notice the tension simmering between Sirius and Remus, evident in the disgruntled glances they exchanged at being seated next to each other.

James turns to you with a devious grin, “My sweet Y/n, you will be picking dare.”

“Excuse me? You can’t pick for me!” You retort, sending James an incredulous look.

“But I have the best dare for you!” James insists, leaning closer with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“No.” You refuse, shaking your head slightly.

“Y/n, please.” He pleads, attempting to send you puppy dog eyes. Marlene snorts from beside you.

Lily sighs, “Y/n, do the dare. He will beg you all night.” You roll your eyes, letting out a sigh that immediately lets James know you have given in.

“Kiss the person you are most attracted to in this room.” Your stomach sinks like a stone, regretting your lack of resistance to James. The group around you comes alive with oohs, except for Remus and Sirius, who sit uneasily, their expressions displaying discomfort.

“Absolutely not. I can’t!” Sirius feels sick. You’re refusing because you can’t kiss Remus- that has to be it.

“Sorry, can’t back out now! Make your way over to the lucky guy.” James sounds far too cheery to be sorry.

The tension in the air becomes palpable as everyone awaits your decision. You draw in a deep breath, summoning your courage before rising to your feet and crossing the room toward him. The anticipation is almost tangible as your friends murmur excitedly, their eyes fixed on you.

You come to a sudden halt, feeling your knees bump against his as he instinctively sits straighter in his chair. Sensing your approach, he spreads his thighs slightly, silently inviting you to take the space between them. His demeanor shifts, a mix of anticipation and apprehension evident in his expression.

"Might make it easier if you sit in his lap." Marlene suggests with a mischievous grin, earning a pointed glare from you over your shoulder.

"You can, angel," he murmurs sweetly, reaching out to gently grasp your hand, his touch reassuring and electric.

You let out a shaky sigh, feeling a rush of nerves as you ease yourself into his lap, your knees sinking into the cushion and your thighs naturally bracketing his. Ignoring the whistles and playful comments that ring out from your friends, you focus on the warmth of his body beneath you, the steady rhythm of his breath, and the way his hands hover uncertainly before settling lightly on your hips.

"We're waiting!" James calls out, amusement laced in his tone, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Feeling a rush of determination, you gently bring your hand to his cheek, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine and lowering your head towards his. He's quick to meet you, his breath mingling with yours, noses bumping softly in a moment of sweet anticipation.

He's patient, his breath mingling with yours as he waits for you to make the first move. With a tender touch, you tilt your face closer, feeling the gentle brush of your lips against his in the softest kiss. For a fleeting moment, you both linger there, foreheads pressed together, lost in the moment’s intimacy.

“Tell me this isn’t because you couldn’t kiss him.” His voice is raspy, filled with longing, sending your mind spiraling. His voice is quiet, ensuring that no one will hear him but you.

“You’re the only one I thought of.” You admit softly, hoping you don’t sound nearly as wrecked as you feel.

Sirius surges forward, his lips meeting yours with a passion that catches you off guard, causing a surprised moan to settle in your throat, lost in the whirlwind of sensations and emotions. Your friends' whistles and hollers fade into the background, overshadowed by the intensity of your focus on Sirius.

Your fingers weave through his hair, a silent plea to draw him closer, to merge the space between you. His hand glides from your hip, settling tenderly against your cheek, his thumb tracing gentle circles across your skin. When you roll your hips involuntarily, Sirius lets out a tortured groan and your blood simmers.

"Okay, okay! We've seen enough!" James hollers, his voice breaking you both out of the moment. As James's voice echoes through the air, you part from Sirius, the gravity of what you have both just done settles in. Your chests heave in unison, lips swollen from kisses and cheeks flushed.

Frozen, you and Sirius sit there, stunned, oblivious to the teasing of your friends. The air crackles with tension as you both lock gazes, the desire to lean in and kiss him again overwhelming you.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Your mind remains frazzled in the aftermath of kissing Sirius. No matter how much you attempt to push it away, it's as though your body stubbornly clings to the memory of his lips upon yours, as if you're still nestled in his lap, feeling the gentle pressure of his hands on your hips. Both of you exchanged shy smiles as you gently slid off his lap, yet inside, your stomach churned with disappointment at the prospect of returning to your previous seat. Truthfully, you wanted to linger longer, to settle beneath his arm, and remain close to him.

In all honesty, Remus didn't even flicker into your thoughts when James issued his dare. The realization of this truth sends a shiver down your spine. When had Sirius managed to steal the place in your thoughts that Remus had held for so long?

Perhaps it was in the way he had cared for you like no one else ever had.

The sight of a steaming cup of tea, reliably waiting for you in your designated spot at the table. Even when he could have been enjoying himself in Hogsmeade, he chose to stay behind and help you study, just because you mentioned not having Remus to study with. And the simple yet heartfelt gesture of presenting you with fresh tulips just because you mentioned you had never gotten flowers before.

How had you moved on from Remus without even noticing? Perhaps that subtle ache in your chest whenever you glanced at Remus and Adeline stemmed from the change in friendship between you both. Maybe those tear-filled initial weeks spent with Sirius comforting you were a form of grieving the relationship that could never be with Remus.

While Sirius helped you to get over Remus, he had been gently guiding you toward developing feelings for him instead without even realizing it.

After watching your kiss with Sirius, Remus withdrew from the game entirely. The memory of your intimate moment with Sirius replayed incessantly in his mind, each repetition adding to the sting in his chest. In a fleeting moment of vulnerability, he had allowed himself to entertain the hope that it might have been him you chose to kiss. However, the presence of Adeline at his side swiftly extinguished that flicker of optimism, leaving him feeling profoundly disappointed and conflicted with himself.

The sight of Sirius enveloping you in his arms, and the undeniable chemistry between the two of you, stirred a thick feeling of dread in his stomach.

Each soft kiss, each exchanged glance, seemed to intensify the bitter pang of jealousy gnawing at his insides. It was as though a veil had been lifted, revealing a reality he had been trying to deny—the depth of his feelings for you. And the realization that he might lose you for good.

"Remus! Truth or dare?" Dorcas inquired, her eyes alight with mischief.

Remus let out a resigned sigh; he wasn't particularly in the mood to deal with a dare.

"Truth," he replied, hoping for a relatively simple question.

Dorcas wasted no time in posing her question, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Who was your first big crush?"

The simplicity of the question drew an immediate protest from James. "Lame!" he squawked, his tone dripping with dissatisfaction. "Ask him something better."

Marlene swiftly came to Dorcas's defense, her voice laced with defiance. "Back off, James," she retorted sharply. "She can ask whatever the hell she wants,” She bit out before turning to Dorcas. “Great question, love." Her words sounded entirely lovesick.

"Uh, my first big crush was Y/n." Remus confessed, his gaze darting toward you, eager to gauge your reaction amidst the tension. However, he failed to notice the subtle tensing of Adeline beside him, her expression morphing into one of disbelief as his words hung in the air.

Your brows furrowed, a mixture of confusion and frustration etched across your features as you processed Remus's unexpected admission. The weight of his words lingered, casting a palpable awkwardness over the group as you responded with an unimpressed look.

Sirius felt a surge of nausea rising within him, his gaze narrowing at Remus before anxiously darting over to you, waiting with bated breath to see how you would react to Remus's unexpected confession. Each second felt like an eternity as he searched for any sign of your thoughts or emotions, his heart pounding in his chest with a mixture of dread and anticipation.

As he watched your expression carefully, Sirius couldn't help but wonder what you were thinking. Were you filled with hope at his confession? Did you still want him?

“That’s not funny, Rem.” You retort, sending him an entirely unimpressed look.

“I’m not joking.” He insists, his voice has a hint of vulnerability in it. Adeline sends him an incredulous look, but his eyes are solely trained on you.

“That’s bullshit.” You countered, your voice laced with frustration as you pushed back. The tension between you and Remus was palpable, your friends watching both of you carefully. Unsure if they should intervene or not.

“It’s not. Started fourth year, I liked you for years.” Remus confesses, hand tugging through his hair in frustration.

“You said you would never have feelings for me.” Your brows are pinched in disbelief, your voice filled with hurt and frustration.

Remus looks entirely confused, “What are you talking about?”

“With Peter! At the party like a month ago.” You exclaim, memory fresh in your mind. While your feelings for Remus may have faded, the pain from his words hadn’t.

Remus shakes his head slowly, eyes searching yours for understanding, “I never said that, love.”

“You did. You told Peter, ‘I don’t think I could ever think about Y/n like that.’” You reiterated, your voice tinged with disappointment as Remus’s expression faltered, his own words echoing back to him.

“You didn’t hear the rest then.” He says, his voice filled with regret and desperation for you to understand.

Your frustration has bubbled to the surface, “Oh, great. So glad I didn’t stay to hear you continue about how awful it is that everyone thought we would end up together.” Your words are a mixture of sarcasm and hurt

"Y/n, I-" Remus began, his voice trailing off as you cut him off with a sharp interruption.

"Do you know what that feels like? To hear your best friend talk about you with so much disgust?" you demanded, the hurt evident in your voice as you confronted him head-on.

"I wasn’t disgusted!" Remus protested, his own frustration rising to meet yours. "You didn’t hear the rest!" he insisted, his tone tinged with desperation as he struggled to convey his side of the story.

"What else did you say?" It was Adeline who broke the tense silence, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. Remus's gaze shifted to her, startled by her sudden interjection. Her expression was one of disbelief, her brows furrowed and her arms crossed tightly over her chest, a silent testament to her own confusion and dismay at the unfolding situation.

"I said I didn’t think I could think about you like that because of-" Remus's voice faltered, his words hanging in the charged air. You leaned forward, your frustration palpable as you awaited his explanation, your gaze unwavering as you demanded clarity.

"Because of what, Remus?" You pressed, the tension thickening with each passing moment. Remus's eyes darted briefly to Sirius, a flicker of hesitation betraying his inner turmoil, but you caught the movement.

Sensing the rising tension, you glanced over at Sirius, who watches Remus with a tense look. His expression carried a silent message. Urging Remus to choose his words carefully.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Sirius grits out, his voice laced with a raw edge of warning. Remus's uncertainty is evident as he grapples with what he’s just implied.

“Do you still have feelings for her?” Adeline's voice trembles with devastation as she poses the question, her heart laid bare in the vulnerability of the moment. Sirius's reaction is immediate; he stands up abruptly, his movements tense with unspoken frustration as he strides towards the stairs, refusing to linger for Remus's response.

“Sirius.” You call out desperately, rising to your feet swiftly to intercept him. He starts heading for his dorm, but you gently grab his wrist and guide him toward yours instead. Without a word, he follows your lead until you reach your door, both of you stepping inside quietly.

Sirius doesn’t utter a word, his silence filling the space between you as he leans back against your door. His head tilts upward, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if searching for answers in its expanse.

You step closer, closing the distance between you, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet room. With a gentle touch, you place your hand on his cheek, a tender gesture designed to draw his attention back to you. You find yourself more preoccupied with Sirius than the recent events downstairs. Dealing with the situation involving Remus can wait; at this moment, your main concern is resolving things with Sirius.

He lets out a sigh, the weight of his emotions palpable as he drops his gaze from the ceiling to meet yours. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice laced with a mixture of remorse and vulnerability.

You can't help but laugh incredulously at his apology, the sound carrying a blend of surprise and amusement. "What are you sorry for?" You inquire, your tone gentle yet tinged with curiosity, as you search his eyes for the answer.

He sighs, “That you found out this way.”

“About what?” You both know that you already know the answer but that you just want him to say it.

“About Remus’s feelings for you, about my feelings for you.” Sirius admits, his voice soft as he swallows harshly.

You take a deliberate step closer to him, closing the gap between you with a sense of purpose. "And what are your feelings for me?" you repeat, your tone carrying a playful lilt, a silent challenge lingering in your words, daring him to bare his heart to you.

"Y/n," he pleads softly, his hands instinctively finding their place on your hips, drawing you closer to him just an inch. “Remus pretty much spelled it out, didn’t he?”

"I don’t want to hear it from Remus, I want to hear it from you.” You assert, your voice tinged with determination as you press closer to him. His eyes flit down to the diminishing space between your bodies.

He sighs, a soft exhalation laden with unspoken emotions, “You drive me crazy.” He confesses, shaking his head in gentle disbelief. A grin spreads across your face, your heart lightening at the familiar banter between you.

"Yeah? Is that all?" you tease, a playful glint in your eyes as your arms rise to encircle his neck, drawing him closer.

His gaze softens, a hint of vulnerability shining through as he meets your eyes. "I’m crazy about you, have been since the moment I met you." He confesses, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

His words ignite a flutter of excitement in the pit of your stomach, a giddiness that bubbles up from within. Unable to contain the surge of emotions, you rise onto your toes, closing the gap between you as your lips meet his in a gentle kiss. He lets out a surprised hum, circling his arms around your waist and hauling you into him.

He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead on yours, his expression tinged with uncertainty, "Y/n,” He murmurs, his voice laced with apprehension, “I can’t do this if you still want Remus.”

You pull back slightly, creating a small space between you yet maintaining the intimacy of your connection as you gaze into his eyes. "Do you think I would have followed you if I still wanted Remus?" You inquire softly, your voice imbued with sincerity.

"I meant every word when I told you that you were the only one I thought of for James’ dare." You continue, your words carrying a gentle reassurance, seeking to dispel any lingering doubts or insecurities that may linger between you.

"I want you, Sirius." You whisper earnestly, your voice soft yet resolute, laying bare your desires and intentions as you seek clarity and connection with him.

The smile he gives you is radiant, brimming with unabridged happiness, illuminating his features with an undeniable warmth that reflects the depth of his emotions.

"I've been dreaming of you saying that for ages." You squeal with uncontainable delight as he dips down and scoops you up, your legs instinctively circling his waist. Together, you embark on a journey towards your bed, his steps sure and purposeful, each movement imbued with a sense of anticipation and excitement.

He settles onto the bed, seating you gently in his lap, and you can't help but giggle uncontrollably, the sound filling the room with infectious joy as you revel in the sheer exhilaration of the moment shared between you.

As you lean down and press your lips onto his, he exhales softly, as if shedding all his worries, finding true peace in the gentle brush of your lips against his. He's never encountered a feeling of rightness as profound as this throughout his life. He is completely done for.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Lily and Marlene didn't return to the dorm last night. After the awkward end to your game of truth or dare, you assumed they were giving you some space. And frankly, you were grateful for it.

You weren't eager to delve into the topic of Remus confessing his past feelings for you. Although he didn't explicitly reveal whether or not those feelings still lingered, the reactions from both Adeline and Sirius served as a telling response.

You knew that a conversation with Remus was inevitable. Yet nervousness gnawed at you. What if there was no salvaging what remained of your friendship? Despite the awkwardness of the past few months, the desire to keep him in your life persisted, making the conversation all the more important.

The night unfolded with you and Sirius intertwined, lost in stolen kisses and hushed conversations within the dimly lit dorm. You had never felt so content in your whole life. Being with Sirius felt like a breath of fresh air. There were no lingering doubts about his feelings; his actions spoke volumes, leaving no room for uncertainty. Reflecting on the past, you couldn't help but wonder how you had ever been so blind to his affections.

“You almost ready m’love?” Sirius called, casting a glance your way as he deftly tied his tie in front of your mirror.

His endearment sent a flutter through your heart. It felt as though the kiss with Sirius last night had unleashed a torrent of emotions, flooding your senses with newfound intensity. It sent a thrill through your body, yet you felt somewhat disheartened as well. How had you managed to overlook Sirius for so long? He had been there all along, yet you found yourself pining over Remus, who had seemed indifferent to your feelings.

"Yeah, whenever you’re ready." You offered a soft smile as you slipped on your final shoe, steadying yourself with a gentle grip on the bedpost.

You stood up, making your way over to Sirius who met you halfway, placing his hands on your hips. You wrapped around your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him. He smiled down as you, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear before putting his hand back to your hip.

You rose to your full height, crossing the distance to Sirius, who advanced to meet you halfway, his hands finding their place on your hips. You encircled your arms around his neck, drawing yourself nearer to him. He smiled warmly down at you, delicately tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear before returning his hand to your hip.

"How do you want to go about this?" Sirius asked his brow furrowing with a hint of unease, his gaze searching yours for guidance.

Your brow pinched in confusion, "Go about what? Us?" For a brief moment, the idea crossed your mind – did Sirius want to go back to the way things were before? However, that thought evaporated as quickly as it appeared when you recalled the firmness of his embrace, the intensity in his gaze fixed upon you.

He nodded, his expression softening with concern. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I understand things might be tense with Remus, and I don’t want to make it harder for you."

"You know what I want?" Sirius tightened his embrace, prompting you to elaborate. "I want you to treat me like I’m yours, show everyone that we’re together. I couldn't care less about what anyone thinks." Both of you understood that anyone referred to Remus. Sirius remained silent, his gaze fixed on you, his expression indecipherable.

Your expression shifted to one of uncertainty, your brows furrowing slightly as you sought clarification. "We're together, right?" You asked, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability, searching his eyes for confirmation.

Sirius's smile radiated such genuine warmth that a flutter of attraction danced in your stomach, “Yeah, baby. We’re together.” He couldn't fathom that he held you, his dream girl, in his arms, asking him if the two of you were together. It took him a moment to fully grasp the reality of the moment.

He continued, “Don’t think that I’m not going to properly ask you to be mine, though, because I will. I promise.”

Unable to resist, you leaned in, capturing his lips with your own. Instantly, he responded, returning the kiss with equal fervor and intention.

With a reluctant sigh, you pulled away, your fingers lingering against his cheek as you whispered, "We need to get to breakfast."

"I think I can starve." Sirius shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he leaned down to capture your lips once more.

You couldn't help but giggle, gently pushing him away, "Stop it, we gotta go. We’re going to be late." You insisted, a hint of laughter dancing in your voice as you playfully nudged him towards the door, the lingering taste of his kiss still tingling on your lips.

As you entered the common room, a wave of surprise washed over you at the sight of all your friends gathered, comfortably sprawled across the couches and armchairs. You slowed to a stop, catching Sirius off guard as he turned to follow your gaze, his eyes widening in surprise as they landed on the familiar faces of your friends.

"We wanted to make sure you two were okay after last night," Lily paused, her gaze piercing as she shot a pointed glare at Remus, who visibly shrank into the couch cushions. He appeared exhausted as if he hadn't slept all night, and you couldn't help but notice Adeline's absence beside him.

"But it looks like everything is good?" Lily continued, her voice hopeful as her eyes dropped down to where your hand intertwined with Sirius'.

"Everything's fine," you affirm, offering a soft smile as Sirius squeezes your hand reassuringly. "But I need to talk to you, Rem. Alone.” You add, your tone gentle yet firm, conveying the importance of the coming conversation.

Sirius is the first to break the tense silence, shifting slightly while the others remain rooted in place, their eyes flitting between Remus and you. The atmosphere feels charged with unease, and you can sense the weight of Lily's unspoken words lingering in the air, knowing full well she gave Remus a piece of her mind the moment you left last night.

Before he can move away, you pull him back, your hand gently tugging him closer as you press your lips to his. A surprised sound escapes him before his hands come up to hold your cheeks. Remus clenches his jaw, unable to watch as you both melt into each other.

James lets out a low, appreciative whistle, and Lily suppresses a smile behind her hand. Peter and Dorcas avert their gaze shyly while Marlene beams at the sight of Sirius melting into you. It's evident that they're all on Team Sirius.

As you both draw back, your gazes locked in mutual adoration, Sirius places another swift kiss on your lips. "I'll have your tea waiting for you," he promises softly.

A bright smile spreads across your face. "Thank you," you reply, your voice filled with warmth and gratitude.

As Sirius finally draws back, the others follow suit. James is already by his best friend's side, chatting animatedly. Lily and Marlene exchange knowing grins with you, silently promising a conversation later. Meanwhile, Peter and Dorcas trail behind, engaging in casual conversation as they meander along.

You sigh, bracing yourself for what promises to be an awkward conversation, and then take a seat beside Remus on the couch. The tension in the air is palpable, amplified by the near emptiness of the common room. Remus sits up straight, stealing a glance in your direction, his demeanor reflecting the unease of the moment.

“Are you okay?” Remus looks mildly surprised, that wasn’t the first thing he expected you to ask.

He clears his throat nervously, “Uh, I’ve been better, honestly. Are you?”

He observes as you gracefully draw your legs onto the couch, tucking them underneath you. Finally, you meet his gaze, and he's momentarily taken aback by your beauty. A pang of regret hits him like a wave – he wishes he had confronted his feelings for you earlier. Perhaps then, it would have been him sharing kisses with you instead of watching you with his best mate.

"I'm good." Remus watches as you absentmindedly bring your fingers up to brush against your lips, a lovesick expression softening your features. You appear momentarily lost in thought, a dazed quality to your gaze.

Clearing your throat, you shake off your thoughts, "But I'm disappointed about last night. What on hell was that?"

"Y/n," Remus's voice quivered with sincerity as he addressed you, his eyes reflecting the remorse weighing heavily upon him. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to upset you." He whispered, the words thick with sincerity..

You sighed, the weight of your frustration and disappointment lacing your tone, "And Adeline?" Remus looked startled. In the wake of you rushing to follow Sirius, Adeline had bravely broached the subject of his feelings towards you. Caught off guard, Remus found himself grappling for words, acutely aware of his friends' scrutinizing gazes, which bore a mixture of astonishment and disapproval. His hesitation was a silent confession to Adeline, who gathered her belongings swiftly, her departure punctuating the air with an unspoken disappointment. In the ensuing silence, Remus remained rooted, torn between pursuing you and granting you the space he sensed you needed. Regrettably, the thought of going after Adeline hadn't even crossed his mind amidst the dread sitting heavy in his stomach. Remus understood he had messed up, and the weight of his mistake hung heavy upon him.

“She left. I don’t blame her, I hurt her. Who gets a girlfriend when they have feelings for someone else?” A laugh escaped Remus, laden with incredulity.

His words prompted you to avert your gaze, a subtle gesture betraying the unease settling in the pit of your stomach. The acknowledgment that his feelings for you still lingered left you with an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Silence settles between you both, and it's excruciatingly awkward.

“I’m falling in love with Sirius,” You blurt out, nervously stealing a glance at him, eager to gauge his reaction. “I just, I need you to know that there’s no way anything could’ve happened between us. A couple months ago it would’ve been entirely different. But I was devastated, Rem. Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you be with Adeline? How much that hurt? And then you just admit you have feelings in front of everyone no less, like it wasn’t a big deal. In front of your girlfriend, who clearly cares so much about you. I don’t understand.”

"Dorcas asked—" He began, his voice sounded shaky.

"But you could've passed, or chosen to say another old crush's name!" Your interjection cut through the air, sharp and pointed.

"But there wasn't anyone else." He countered, his words tinged with a hint of desperation.

"Remus." His name hung in the air, heavy with frustration. You sent him with a glare heavy with irritation, and the intensity of your gaze churned a nauseating knot in his stomach.

"I was jealous, okay? To see Sirius hold you and kiss you like I have always wanted was awful. I couldn’t get you out of my head, and then Dorcas asked, and I just said your name."

"Godric, Rem!" You huffed, frustration coloring your tone. "If you had just told me months ago, we could’ve avoided this entire mess." Remus opened his mouth to speak, but you interjected, your words tumbling out with raw emotion. "But at the same time? I’m so grateful that you didn’t tell me, and that Sirius was there, because then I would’ve missed out on a guy who was never afraid to show me that I was his first choice.”

Remus remained silent, his gaze fixed intently on his intertwined fingers. You sat tense on the couch beside him, the air heavy with unresolved tension.

Remus’ eyes are filled with tears when he turns to you, “I know there’s no chance for us anymore, but Y/n, I don’t want to lose you as my best friend. Not having you around the last couple months have been hard. I miss you, and I understand if you’re not ready for that or don’t even want to be my friend. But Y/n, I will do anything to make this up to you.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, a wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. With a harsh sigh, you turned to Remus, your gaze a mixture of hurt and determination.

"Our friendship won't be fixed right away," you admitted, the words weighted with the frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface. "I'm still frustrated with you." You confessed, your voice tinged with the raw honesty of your emotions.

“Y/n, I’ll do everything to make it up to you. I know everything won’t go back to the way it was, but I just want to be your friend.” His words carry genuine remorse, and you crack.

“Remus, come here.” You extended your arms toward him and Remus engulfs you in his embrace, his fervor nearly knocking you off balance.

You're both holding onto each other tightly, finding comfort in having each other back. A few tears escape your eyes, tracing silent paths down your cheeks as you find solace in the warmth of his embrace.

"I missed you too." You mumble softly into his chest, your words muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

The familiar ease you once shared with Remus doesn't return immediately, but both of you are committed to rebuilding your friendship, to rediscovering that ease and comfort your relationship used to provide. But the effort that is being made means the world to you.

And so it begins with catching up on reading together. You sit beside Remus on the plush couch, matching copies of a book cradled in your hands as you both immerse yourselves in its pages. Nearby, Marlene and Lily are nestled by the crackling fire, engaged in animated conversation about Marlene's impending decision to finally ask Dorcas out. Peter lounges lazily in an armchair, a contented smile playing on his lips as he indulges in chocolates, his attention drifting between the gossip and the flickering flames.

Sirius's laughter rings out, drawing your gaze toward him like a magnet. You shift your focus to the common room entrance, where Sirius and James have just arrived, their hair still damp from their post-practice showers.

You sit up straighter, a subtle movement, that draws Remus's attention to you. Following your gaze, Remus's eyes shift in the direction of Sirius, who is in the midst of a hearty laugh spurred on by James's joke. However, as Sirius turns and locks eyes with you, his laughter fades into a tender smile, his expression melting into one of affection and adoration. James catches sight of Lily across the room and wastes no time in making his way over to her, his trademark mischievous grin already in place.

"James!" Lily cries out, her voice a mixture of exasperation and amusement, as she dodges away from the curly-headed boy who is shaking his dripping wet hair over her. Marlene's laughter fills the air, and Dorcas grins from beside her. Despite Lily's attempts to escape, James encircles his arms around her waist, drawing her back against his chest, his satifsfied grin matching her infectious laughter.

“I can’t stand you, James Potter.” Lily sighs, leaning back against James and shaking her head disapprovingly.

Sirius laughs, watching Lily pretend to be annoyed with James, before settling into the seat beside you, a comfortable familiarity enveloping the space between you. When he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your lips, you instinctively lean into his touch, savoring the warmth of his affection. Remus's gaze momentarily drifts away, a subtle pang of jealousy tugging at his chest as he watches the way you lean into his best mate.

In truth, Remus found himself uncertain of his standing with Sirius. Him and Remus were limited in their interactions lately, both boys feeling tense around the other. Unbeknownst to you, Remus flinched involuntarily every time Sirius drew near to you, displaying his lingering feelings for you. Sirius, though not proud of it, found himself grappling with a twinge of possessiveness whenever Remus was close to you.

Sirius pulled back slightly, a warm smile gracing his features as he met your gaze, "Hi, m'love." He murmured softly, his voice laced with affection and tenderness.

You couldn't help but return his grin, feeling a rush of warmth at his endearing greeting, "Hi." You replied, your voice filled with warmth and fondness, mirroring the affection reflected in his eyes.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Sirius's voice broke the silence, his arm casually draping around your shoulder, drawing you into his side. Your book lay forgotten as his presence captivated your attention.

"Just some studying." You replied, the thought of books and lectures suddenly fading into insignificance.

Sirius leaned in closer, his lips grazing against your ear as he whispered, "I wanna take you somewhere tomorrow." The words stirred memories of a few months ago when you were seated on this very couch with him, grappling with the heartache of trying to move on from Remus.

"Will this be a date?" You asked, unable to contain the excitement bubbling in your voice.

"Yes, angel." Sirius replied, his words soft and tender as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. A radiant grin spread across your face as you reached for your book once more, the anticipation of the upcoming date dancing in your thoughts.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Almost a week slips by before you and Sirius manage to carve out time for a long-awaited date. As Sirius leads you on a walk, your heart swells with emotion when you realize he's taking you to the tulip field. Despite the lingering chill in the air, the sight of the vibrant flowers and the sun's gentle rays reflecting off Black Lake fills you with warmth.

"You're such a romantic." You giggle, leaning into Sirius even more. He responds with a bashful smile, his cheeks tinged pink. You're not sure if it's from the cold or your teasing.

"I didn't know if it would be a good place for a date or not." He admits, his cheeks coloring with embarrassment. He had spent the last week agonizing over where to take you. When he ranted to Peter about it, Peter simply shrugged and suggested Hogsmeade. Sirius had scoffed, his tone teasing yet earnest, telling him he better step it up if he wanted to impress a girl.

"Sirius, this is the cutest spot for a date. Plus, it has meaning to us." You tell him sincerely, and Sirius feels his heart flutter at the term us. He wonders if he'll ever get over the fact that he has his dream girl in his arms, looking at him the same way he looks at you.

As you draw closer, the perfumed air carries the unmistakable scent of spring, and the gentle buzzing of bumblebees near the flowers fills your ears. The sounds evoke a sense of nostalgia, transporting you back to your childhood days spent playing in the garden.

"Merlin, I was so stressed about it. I've never planned a date before. I mean, I've gone on dates, but I've never felt this determined to impress someone as much as I have with you," he sighs as if releasing all of his pent-up stress. "I even asked Peter where I should take you."

"Did you? Well, I think this is perfect." You grin, withdrawing your hand from his to lay out the blanket. The thought of crushing tulips under the blanket makes you cringe, so you search for a barren patch to place it over. With care, you shake out the blanket, letting it flutter gracefully before plopping onto it.

Leaning back on your palms, you watch Sirius, who remains standing where you left him, your copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you as if you're everything he's ever dreamed of.

"Are you going to join me or just stare?" You question, patting the spot next to you invitingly.

"I quite like staring at you." He grins, sending you his famous smile.

He sits down next to you before laying back and allowing the sun to settle on his skin. The warmth of the rays feels comforting, especially after the last couple of days filled with rain. The melodic songs of birds in the surrounding trees and the sound of your gentle movements create a soothing ambiance, putting him at ease.

You shift, settling onto your back, your eyes tracing the patterns of the soft clouds as they leisurely drift across the vast expanse of the sky. The birds' playful chirps and flutters among the trees add to the serene atmosphere. Sirius follows suit, adjusting his position to face you. As he watches you, he's captivated by the delicate play of sunlight on your features, accentuated by the colorful tulips that bloom around you, adding a vibrant backdrop to the tranquil scene.

He can hardly believe that he's lying next to the girl of his dreams, the one he's thought of for years, yearning for even a moment of her attention. Memories flood back countless times when he watched you with Remus from afar, consumed by jealousy for the time Remus got to spend with you. He would have given anything for just a few minutes alone with you to share a moment that belonged solely to the two of you.

"I talked to Remus earlier today." You remark, his nose crinkling slightly with an involuntary pang of jealousy at the mention of his friend's name. It's become almost instinctual by now.

"He apologized to Adeline," You start, your expression thoughtful. "He mentioned it started off rough, but in the end, she forgave him, and they wished each other the best."

He hums, “That’s good.”

You giggle, “That’s all?”

Sirius hums softly, propping himself up on his elbow as he gazes down at you. "I'm glad they've found that closure," he murmurs, his tone laced with a hint of distraction.

Feeling his unwavering focus, you gently divert your attention from the sky to meet his gaze. His eyes are locked onto yours with such intensity that it causes a flutter in your chest, leaving your breath caught in your throat.

He lifts his hands, delicately brushing his thumb against your bottom lip. A small, involuntary sound escapes you, and Sirius responds with a devastating smile, a hint of playfulness dancing in his eyes.

"I don't want to talk about anyone else but us." He whispers, his voice filled with sincerity. His gaze softens as his fingers trace gently across your cheeks, his hand coming to rest on your face, his thumb tenderly brushing against your jawline.

"What about us in particular?" You inquire, the words escaping in a breathless whisper. Your heart quickens its pace, a rhythmic drumming echoing the intensity of the moment, a sensation that always accompanies Sirius's proximity. The air feels charged with anticipation, every nerve tingling with the electricity of his presence.

"I can't get enough of you," he confesses, leaning in to press a soft kiss against your cheek. "How you never leave my mind," he adds, tenderly planting a kiss on your other cheek.

"How you make my heart flip every time I look at you." His lips brush against your forehead before he leans down to rest his against yours. Your eyes flutter closed at his proximity, your body nearly buzzing from the giddiness and anticipation coursing through your veins.

"How my heart is entirely yours." His voice trembles slightly, revealing the depth of his emotions as he utters those heartfelt words, “And that I am hopelessly in love with you.”

Your eyes widen, catching his apprehensive gaze, his nerves evident as he awaits your reaction to his confession Without hesitation, you thread your fingers through his hair and gently pull him down to you, closing the distance between your lips and his in a sweet, affirming kiss.

Sirius lets out a moan, his thumb continuing to brush over your cheek as he deepens the kiss. The warmth of his lips against yours is accompanied by a gentle exploration, each movement conveying a depth of emotion and desire that leaves you breathless. The air is charged with an electric intensity, and in that moment, it feels like time stands still, allowing you to savor the overwhelming connection and longing between you.

You pull away just slightly, your voice trembling with emotion as you gaze into his eyes. In the hushed intimacy of the moment, surrounded by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds, you utter those three profound words, "I am so in love with you. "

Sirius lets out a disbelieving laugh, his smile widening as euphoria bubbles within him. Without hesitation, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a fervent and intense kiss that elicits a desperate moan from your lips. You've never experienced a kiss like this before, filled with such raw passion that it feels like every nerve in your body is set ablaze as if you could melt into him right there and then.

"Please be mine." Sirius pleads, his voice laced with longing and vulnerability against your lips.

A tender smile graces your lips as you respond, your voice soft and filled with affection, "I'm already yours."

While nestled in the field of tulips, Sirius confesses to you that the very first tulip he gifted you was, in fact, a declaration of his love.

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dyaz-stories · 5 months

Text

how long will I slide? || Eun Hyuk x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings & tags: angst, big spoilers for s1 of sweet home, that should be it?

A/N: Written for day one of @neohumanmonster's fandom event, Turning a New Leaf. Prompt: The Other Side. He's the one I had an idea for for that theme, but I actually haven't watched s1 of Sweet Home in a couple of years, so I hope this feels in character for Eun Hyuk, and that it's not too incoherent for the setting of s1!

Eun Hyuk has eyes everywhere in the Green House apartment building — as much as he possibly can, at least. He’s used to studying efficiently,to taking as much information from a page as possible in a single glance. He’d never thought his abilities would be used in that way. That he’d end up sitting in front of footage coming from surveillance cameras, making sure not to let anything go unnoticed, because that would be the best way for him to be helpful to the people around him.

Oh, he doesn’t just do that. He’s taken up most of the tasks that require organization, wouldn’t trust others with it, if he’s being honest, but this is where he spends the bulk of his days. In front of a screen. Staring. His books forgotten and gathering dust in a corner of the room.

He doesn’t get distracted. If his eyes linger when you appear in front of ones of the cameras, it’s just because you’ve been vocal about thinking that other solutions were needed, and he doesn’t want you to endanger everyone by trying to put one of them in action. That’s all there is to it. He doesn’t have time for anything else anyway.

So when one of his screens flickers, he notices immediately. His mind starts running through the possibilities as he leans toward it, all of them bad. Any kind of system failure would be disastrous. Loss of electricity would be close to a death sentence. A camera being destroyed could mean that the monsters are getting better at finding them, smarter, which would mean they’re evolving.

And the last possibility, that he’s having a hallucination because his monsterization symptoms are progressing…

Well, he coldly evaluates, it would depend. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, if the residents could evacuate before he loses control completely.

When the screen lights back on, and he’s met with his own eerily smiling face and eyes gone completely black, he’s almost relieved.

Good, he thinks. I’ll be able to help as long as the cameras work.

“Will you?” his other self asks as it spreads to the other screens like a virus, voice coming out like a screech through the speakers. “Are you sure you’re helping them?”

He supposes it shouldn’t surprise him that the monster knows how to get under his skin, and yet he sits straighter at the question.

“Of course I am. Without me—”

“Maybe if they’d run when they wanted to, most of them would be safe right now,” the monster says, admitting out loud a fear that’s been eating at Eun Hyuk since the very start of this forced confinement. “Maybe you’re killing them by making them stay here. And really…” It laughs, high-pitched and maniacal. “Using that kid when you’d never have the guts to step out there by yourself?”

“I would,” Eun Hyuk protests, even if he’s aware that there is no actual argument happening here. “But I’m not the same kind of infected person as him. And I’m doing my part here. It’s not like…”

“Like you’re sending a kid out to be tortured only so he can be ostracized here? Sure looks like it.”

“It’s not,” Eun Hyuk repeats, weaker this time.

The monster opens its mouth to speak once more, when there is a soft knock on the door.

“Eun Hyuk?”

It’s you, and the monster’s face lights up as Eun Hyuk’s heart rate picks up.

Out of fear, surely. He doesn’t want you to know about his issues.

“Well how about that?” The monster practically purrs. “The thing you won’t let yourself have. Won’t even admit how badly you want—”

Eun Hyuk’s not really thinking when he picks up one of his notebooks to throw it at the screen. It bounces without any effect, of course, and the monsters starts laughing once more, until that’s all Eun Hyuk can hear, while it gets louder and louder and louder and—

The door opens behind him.

“You weren’t answering—”

“Don’t—”

You freeze in the entrance.

“Don’t what?”

He knows before turning around. Of course he does. Rational, human him is deeply aware that there is no way for you to see the things that his mind is creating.

“…come in before I tell you it’s okay,” he finishes with an even voice. “If you see something you shouldn’t, I don’t want to have to deal with everyone else’s panic.”

You click your tongue at him, and he immediately hates himself for saying it. He doesn’t even mean it. You clearly have everyone’s best interests at heart, even if you believe in a very different way of handling people than he does.

“Well, I just noticed you hadn’t eaten your share yesterday,” you say, and it stings that your tone is biting, particularly when he knows how soft-spoken you can be with others. “I was bringing you something to eat.”

“You should let someone else—”

“You can’t let yourself go weak,” you reply, pushing the food in his hands and folding your arms over your chest. “You know how much people rely on you here. We may not see eye to eye, but the last thing they need is to start worrying about you and thinking you’re not able to lead them anymore.” There’s a second of silence before you add, almost as if you can’t help yourself “Also, you know I already think these rations are too small. You really shouldn’t go a day without eating at least that.”

He glances down at what you brought. True, it’s meager, and yet he feels a smile forming as he looks at it, at the acknowledgement that you were worried about him, even if you didn’t phrase it that way.

“Thank you,” he says.

And just like that, you soften. There’s part of him that finds it ridiculous, how you’ve given him a million second chances, how he’s let you down every time, and how you keep affording them to him still. The other one is so, so infinitely thankful for your kindness.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He sighs.

“As okay as I can be,” he answers, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think anyone is doing good.”

You nod gravely, then brush your hands over your jeans.

“Alright. Well then, I’ll leave you to—”

His hand shoots out to grab your wrist before he can hold it back and before you get too far away. You turn around to look at him, surprised and a little confused.

“Can you— would you mind eating with me?”

He could justify himself. Tell you he doesn’t like eating alone, even if he’s been doing it since his parents died, tell you he needs another set of eyes on the screen while he’s eating, tell you he needs to talk to you about one of the residents. He doesn’t, though. You read him a little too well, could probably tell that he’s lying. And he hopes that, with that big heart of yours, you’ll just…

“Sure,” you answer.

You grab a chair, pull it so you can sit facing him. As you sit down, your knees brush against his. The gesture feels surprisingly comfortable, in a way that he hopes doesn’t bring too much color to his cheeks.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“It gets lonely in here,” he answers, which technically isn’t a lie.

There’s a wrinkle on your forehead as you study him, one that forms whenever you’re concerned.

He’s more used to seeing the one between your eyebrows directed at him, the one that’s there when you’re annoyed.

“You can always ask me to keep you company,” you say, and his heart skips a beat. He’s sure you didn’t mean it like that, tries to pretend that it’s the monster that stirs his mind in that direction, but he knows, deep down, that that’s not the truth. That he’s actually desperate to know that someone like you could see value in someone like him.

But the truth is, if anything, you see value in everyone but him.

It doesn’t matter that you’re looking at him with these eyes, that you’re sitting with him, that you brought him food. You’re kind. You’d do that for just anyone.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he tells you flatly once he’s gotten himself back under control. “Thank you for doing that.” Then, after a moment, “Anything I should know about what’s going on out there?”

You start answering, soft voice describing all sorts of meaningless details that you’ve noticed and apparently care about. Eun Hyuk keeps his back to the cameras. He still sees, from the corner of his eye, the monster taunting him. But as long as you’re here, so real, so soft, so human, he knows he can resist its pull.

Too bad he doesn’t know how long you’ll stick around for him.

first time writing for eun hyuk and it was quite interesting to do! also i think i need to try my hand at writing him before s3 comes out lol. i hope you enjoyed it! reblogs and comments are strongly appreciated and keep me motivated and writing :)

more writing for sweet home

#sweet home #sweet home netflix #sweet home imagine #sweet home x reader #lee eunhyuk #lee eun hyuk #lee eunhyuk x reader #eunhyuk x reader #lee eun hyuk x reader #eun hyuk x reader #my writing

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renhaswritersblock · 1 year

Note

hi, can you do C, G and V with wrench pls? :)

Wrench - NSFW ALPHABET REQUEST (C, G, V):

A/N: No thoughts...just a chunk of the brain that held all my motivation vanish without a trace.

I didn't know if you wanted WD2 Wrench or WDL Dilf Wrench, so I wrote mostly WD2 Wrench. I do hope you enjoy reading this, and like I said, Ima just taking my time writing these requests -- but not too much time.

WARNING: Mentions of the hot dog wiener going into the donut hole, slight cum, lil' bit of angst

Lemme know what you think. You can always ask me any other Request in the ask box.

Happy readings!

===

C: Cum (Ah, shit. Here we go again.)

Wrench will quickly cream his pants at literally anything. Going from committing violent acts, explosions/fireworks/arson, technology, his personal arsenal, glancing in your direction, staring at you sitting in the lounge part of the hackerspace, your smile, the slightest touch from you, a fantasy about you being on his workbench sprawled out barenake–

*COUGHS COUGHS*

Basically, Wrench can easily break and sometimes gets embarrassed when it happens or simply just doesn’t care.

His load is pretty average – if you get what I mean – and is ok with cumming both inside or outside. But keep in mind, you’ll never stop hearing the shitty one-liners every time he shoots his “love snot” all over your body.

G: Goofy

Come on, this is Wrench we’re talking about. The guy is a figurative ticking time bomb full of the dirtiest jokes and remarks known to man. One little word that comes out of either you or any of the DedSec member's mouths – Wrench will emerge from the dark corners of god-knows-where and say the worse shit possible that’s gonna earn a few annoyed groans or snickering. Yet regardless of his goofy behavior, he also has a serious one too.

Initially, Wrench fucked you with his mask on. One time, you mindlessly raise your hand to try lifting his mask off, causing him to seize and stop completely. Haphazardly jumping off the bed to grab all his clothes and rush out the door, leaving you with a perplexed look on your face. Although you both talk it out in the end, Wrench didn’t want to do anything intimate or sexual with you for nearly four months.

Gradually, he slowly returns to doing more coitus acts with you, along with opening up about his issues and the importance of the mask. Even going as far as kissing you for the first time. He’ll still feel iffy about crossing his boundaries, but when he does, the room will be pitch black for you too see his face. But you don’t mind the long progress he’s making.

V: Volume

He is absolutely, without a doubt, totally the loudest guy to have sex with. Doesn’t matter if he’s groaning, moaning, growling, whimpering, huffing, or muffling – everyone can still hear him shout out and swear every cuss word in the book while pounding you. Leading to him getting kicked out of every hackerspace in the Bay Area and sneaking back in, and everyone putting on earbuds and trying to ignore whatever is going on in the next room.

===

A/N: Hope you enjoy, and lemme know what ya think!

#watch dogs wrench #wrench watch dogs #watch dogs 2 wrench #wrench x reader #watch dogs legion wrench #watch dogs 2

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sirilush · 10 months

Text

☆Sweet☆

♡Akutagawa x GN!Reader♡

♡Oneshot♡

Warnings: possible bad grammer/writing, You/Your being used to address reader, Slight angst (?) But has fluff at the end, implied injures, bandages, casts, possible OOC Akutagawa, and definitely not proofread.

This takes place right after the end of season 1. This can be read as platonically or romantically.

A/N: This is my first one-shot I'm posting ever on my tumbler. It's probably wattpad material since I don't think I'm the greatest at writing stories to be completely honest. I haven't written all that much, probably the last time I wrote a fanfiction was like when I was in middle school. I was also writing this at midnight, so it's most likely pretty bland. I mostly wrote this since I had an idea in my mind in the middle of the night, and I just went for it.

♤♤♤

Annoying birds could be heard chirping this bright morning and the high-pitched beating from a heart monitor, too. It was not usual to hear each morning to many, but it has become too familiar in your daily routine.

The sickly white bedsheets blended with Akutagawa's complexion, as he lay on an uncomfortable-looking bed. He was wrapped with bandages, and you could have sworn that he would be able to beat the infamous bandaged wasting machine from the Armed Detective Agency. It has been a few days since Akutagawa came to be here. And only a couple of days before he had awoken. Yet he hasn’t said a thing, not even to the nurses that had been nursing him back to health. Nor to you, who have been coming to visit every morning and every night.

It wasn’t uncommon for Akutagawa to not speak to his fellow peers, but something to you felt off about his silence. It was like he had something on his mind, yet he dared not say what it was. Although recently, there had been some progress, even though his only responses were groans and annoyed huffs.

Another day of you sitting on the chair beside the port mafia’s black dog. He still doesn't dare to speak up or take any action to look at you. He just stares at the wall in thought, as his mind goes into turmoil. His mind went to his last confrontation with the weretiger that happened not so long ago. Even he couldn’t deny what he had felt. Once Atsushi brought his final blow to Akutagawa, he felt like he failed again. He failed again to take down Atsushi. He failed to live up to Dazai’s expectations. And he failed himself. He was foolish and weak. At least, that is what Akutagawa told himself.

Even though he thought he was secretive about his own emotions, you could read him like a book sometimes. Not all the time, but that face he made as he looked at that boring old wall that had chipped paint across it, could tell you all you needed to know.

“You look a little more sour than yesterday.” You leaned your elbow on the armrest of the dingy chair you sat on. Your hand prompts up your head as your gaze meets the side of the pale man's cheek. “And I thought yesterday was already sour enough.”

Akutagawa rolls his eyes in annoyance. You always had the weirdest ways of explaining his emotions. If he could, he would slap his hand to his forehead if he had the energy to. Yet again, he stayed quiet as you rambled about.

“How have you been so far? Feeling any better recently?”

No answer.

“Can you shake your head yes or no? If it’s easier for you…”

Yet again, no answer. It seems like he was completely absorbed in his own thoughts. It looks like another day of him not speaking to you, or anyone for that matter. Even if Dazai came into this room right now to give him praise, Akutagawa won’t even acknowledge his mentor's presence.

You let out a small sigh as you realized there will probably be no progress for today with Akutagawa. You reached into your bag, bringing out a small box, placing it on the side table nearest to his bed.

“I got something for you. I don’t know if you would like it, since I’m not sure how they taste… Make sure to not let the nurses know I snuck it in, okay?”

He gave you no reaction to the sudden gift, maybe he was still stuck in his mind. So you gave up for today, of finally being able to talk to the man. You got up and headed to the infirmary door, but not before looking back, hoping that maybe, just maybe he would say something to you. Just something, anything, even if it was just one word.

But yet still nothing.

“I’ll come back later to check up on you. Don’t try anything while I’m gone, okay?”

Still no answer. You then left the infirmary, carefully closing the door as you headed out.

As you left, Akutagawa finally looked somewhere other than the wall in front of him. First, he looked at the door you left through, and then his gaze went to the box that sat on the bedside table. With his one free hand that wasn’t in a stiff cast. He reached over and picked up the small box. He shook it a bit, to hear rumbling inside like there were small little pieces jumping around. As he opened it up, it was small pieces of lightly coated sugar figs inside.

He took one out of the container and popped it into his mouth.

“...It’s sweet…”

He mumbled out while taking another small fig peice out of the small box.

♤♤♤

A/N: If you made it this far, thanks for reading! Idk if this was any good, and if you have any constructive criticism, I would like to hear it. I definitely want to improve on my writing skills and make some small fanfics every now and then.

#akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke #ryunosuke akutagawa #bsd akutagawa #gn reader #akutagawa fluff #akutagawa angst #bsd fanfic #fluff #angst #bungo stray dogs #siri's fanfics

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chuckbass-love · 2 years

Note

57 and 71 with Ransom 🥵

A/N: Wow, you guys really love Ransom, huh? ME TOO!! I adore writing for Ransom because i see so many possibilities, so many aspects of his personality that can be explored outside of what we see in Knives Out. So yeah, i really hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for your patience.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad or Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Prompt #57: "I wonder what your boyfriend would do if he knew what you were doing right now”

Prompt #71: "I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me"

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Summary: Although you’re currently spoken for, that doesn’t stop Ransom from trying his luck. What happens when you fail to resist?

Warning: Smut! Cheating, swearing, ass slapping, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, slight hair pulling, slight angst, cream pie, sir kink, neck biting and kissing and mirror sex. I think that’s about it. If i missed anything, please let me know. 18+ folks. Minors DNI

Word Count: 6,490

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @fairyevans go check them out❤️

Death By A Thousand Cuts

Never in a million years, never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you’d be lying in bed next to your boyfriend of eight years, crying, crying because of the hurt you’re about to put him through. The pain you’re about to subject him to.

But you have no choice. It’s been a week since you made the mistake of sleeping with another man, of sleeping with Ransom. And guilt has drowned your entire body out, leaving nothing but a broken woman in its wake.

You know it’s something you’ve been meaning to do for a while now, but anxiety cripples you, rendering you speechless as you watch Ryan sleep. He looks so peaceful, so handsome and content. Little does he know, that same peace and contentment will dissipate the moment he wakes up.

Your bags are packed away in the closet, the diamond necklace he gifted you for your anniversary neatly hidden away in the black velvet covered box on the bedside table. You’re ready to leave him, to give him a second chance at happiness.

And although your chest is tight and your heart is breaking into a million pieces, you know this is something you need to do.

To flirt with another man is one thing but to have feelings for said man and sleep with him, well that’s something else entirely.

As much as you try to fight it, the memories of that night flash through your mind like a slow motion movie. Every touch, kiss and lust infused decision remains imbedded into your brain, details you’ll never forget.

Here’s the story of the night you ended your relationship by sleeping with Boston’s own notorious playboy, Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

The winter air is so cold that even your calf length faux fur lined coat is struggling to keep you warm as you step out of your cab and onto the stone filled drive of the Thrombey estate.

Harlan Thrombey, a man of mystery and talent. His books are quite literally what got you to where you are now, an excited new author on the cusp of publishing your first novel.

You decided to really draw inspiration from Harlan and what made his mystery and thriller books so enticing and throw it all into a crazy combination of thriller, mystery and romance. At first, upon pitching your idea to your mentor and close friend Harlan, the famous author wasn’t sure it would work, but after reading a rough draft of the almost finished copy, he changed his mind.

His exact words ‘i think this is something that will grab the audience by the balls’ and so far, reviews from your team have been similar. One can only hope it sells enough once it hits the shelves.

But now comes the reason you’re at Harlans home tonight. Every year he holds a party for his family, friends and colleagues, whilst also inviting young and new voices in the writing world, you know to introduce people such as yourself into the scene.

However, also in attendance tonight is the one and only Ransom Drysdale. Your mentors spoilt grandson. Upon encountering Ransom for the very first time, you can recall specifically telling him to go ad fuck himself. He’s nothing but a trust fund prick whose cockiness makes your blood boil...literally.

Although you quite literally cannot stand him and everything he is, you can’t help but admire his looks, and how dreamy his eyes are, how they could lead you down a path of destruction. You’d find yourself risking it all for those blue orbs if they glanced your way at the right moment in time. But then he speaks, and your hate returns.

So it’s safe to say, you are definitely not looking forward to being in such close proximity to him tonight.

Your boyfriend Ryan couldn’t make it due to having work commitments of his own. He’s a lawyer and his boss Andy Barber is hardly the type to allow him to slack off, especially during a high profile murder case.

Late night arrivals home and going without quality time together is your life right now, and as much as it sucks, the two of you seem to make it work the best that you can. Ryan loves his job, it’s what drew you to him in the first place, watching him in a cafe across town with his colleagues, tucked away in a booth. You remember watching as he was detangling his theories for everyone, they all hung on his every word, as did you and you weren’t even supposed to be eavesdropping.

Eventually he noticed, his eyes meeting yours in the booth next to his, and they just gleamed, pulling you in all the more.

After that day, you were joined at the hip. Day in and day out was spent by his side, kissing him, touching him, fucking him, you were enamoured, obsessed.

As was he.

And this year you celebrated your eight year anniversary. The only things missing now are a dog and a ring of engagement.

But patience is a virtue. And you have a feeling he won’t make you wait much longer now.

The zoo floods your stomach as you entertain the thought of marrying Ryan, he’s the love of your life. Your soulmate. Someone you could never live without.

But suddenly you’re pulled from your happiness and thrusted into hell the second Ransom shoves his way past you, almost causing you to spill your drink down yourself. Jerk isn’t the right word to describe him. No. There’s only one word that suffices just nicely, it begins with C and ends in T.

“Watch it” you snap, moving further away from him whilst casting him your infamous resting bitch face, letting him know you aren’t about to put up with his shit. But as he turns to face you, you forget all thoughts of hate, the gleam in his dreamy blue eyes are the reason you fail to hate him for longer than a few measly seconds.

“Dam Y/N, you actually scrub up pretty nicely” he compliments, stepping closer to you to assess your outfit. You’re wearing a stunning navy blue dress, it’s got a sweetheart neckline and it comes to just above your knees. It’s cinched at the waist to show off your body in the best way possible. Not that you care for showing off, you usually shy away. But tonight was cause for celebration so you thought why not dress up?

“Tell me, sweetheart” his body now pressed up to yours, his chest to your side, his mouth so close to your neck and ear that you feel yourself struggling to keep the shivers of arousal at bay.

“Where is that boyfriend of yours tonight? You look way too good to be out alone” his tone is nothing short of mischievous, alerting you of his lustful intentions.

He glides his ridiculously large hand across yours and then up your forearm to your bicep before gently resting it on your upper back.

“Well?” he presses, his hand urging you to speak as it splays out across the middle of your back, edging closer to your tailbone.

“Well what?” you choke out, sipping your champagne a little to distract yourself, hopefully giving off the illusion that you’re far from flustered.

“Where is Ryan?” he asks, and you’re suddenly snapping out of your aroused state.

“He’s working, something you would know nothing about” you retort, shaking his hand off of you before strutting away in your 6 inch heels. And it can’t hurt to ensure your ass is fully in his eye line as you leave him wanting more.

Ransom has spent the last year alone loitering around you in hopes of cracking you so that you’d finally sleep with him. See, he doesn’t care much for titles, or women that aren’t available. To him, sex is sex. If he wants a woman, he’ll get her. He always does. Women are incapable of resisting his playboy charms.

However, you’ve been the exception, the only exception.

But tonight, he’ll change that. He’s determined.

That look in your eyes, one of mutual sexual attraction, it was so prominent that he’d never allow you to lie about it. He knows you want him, or at least you fantasise about having him. It’s just there’s one obstacle, your devotion to your workaholic boyfriend who never makes the time for you anymore. He can sense your starvation, he can smell it.

You’re in need of a good fucking, someone to draw orgasm after orgasm out of you until your body grows limp and you’re sated with a post orgasm buzz. Ransom can be that guy. You just need to let him be that guy. And no one will have to know, not even Ryan.

God even his name in Ransom’s thoughts makes him roll his eyes.

It’s like he can sense you’re settling, your lack of pleasure is clearly something that bothers you yet you don’t utter a single complaint. You just continue to work yourself to the bone too, in order to keep busy, just enough to cease all thoughts of sex.

It’s like a game of cat and mouse to Ransom, when he wants a woman. And right now, the game is well and truly on and he won’t stop until you’re breathless and satisfied.

He leans against the door frame between the grande foyer and Harlans study, assessing the room, searching even. Searching for you.

And soon enough he spots you, in the corner, surrounded by multiple older men. You look happy, laughing as you exchange tips regarding your writing. Marta, his grandfathers nurse brushes past you quickly and the two of you exchange pleasantries.

You’ve always admired Marta, her work ethic, her infectious smile and loveable personality. She reminds you a lot of your younger sister, hence why the two of you get along so well.

Ransoms tumbler glass rises to meet his succulent and kissable lips, the brown liquid filling it entering his mouth slowly as he takes a bigger sip than usual, his eyes glued to you.

On the off chance that you look his way, he raises his glass, winking before watching as you watch him drink. Your flustered state more than apparent to him, he’s no fool and this certainly isn’t his first rodeo. The tell tale signs of arousal are showing.

Unable to refrain from tracking every little movement your body makes, he finds himself blocking out everyone else. So when Harlan snaps his fingers in his face to catch his attention, he jolts. Only ever so slightly though.

“What are you up to?” Harlan enquires, narrowing his eyes at his grandson as he watches Ransom stare his guests down.

“Trouble as always” his eyes leaving you for no longer than a second as he turns to Harlan, sending a wink his way and alerting him that nothing has changed.

But as his eyes return, you’re not there.

He quickly scans the room again, only to find the back of you. Your ass catching his attention as you climb the stairs to the second floor. So rather than watching, or even gawking, he decides to follow you. No one on the second floor now but you and him. A dangerous duo.

Especially since he’d be right in his assumptions, the assumption that you want him just as much as he wants you.

You close the bathroom door behind you, locking it before sitting down to pee, your eyes glancing around the vintage decor, it’s a good job Harlan is at the age he is, changing the entire decor of the house would be a crying shame. It’s so stunning, you’re incapable of taking your eyes off of it. But when you hear a knock on the door, you jump a little.

“Occupied, i’ll only be a minute” you call out before finishing off and flushing the toilet.

As you wash your hands though, another knock sounds through the room, the knock is so heavy, is someone attempting to break the dam door down? Maybe so.

“I said, just a minute” you call back, drying your hands before unlocking the door.

But instead of squeezing past the impatient party goer, you are met with Ransom as he barges inside before closing and locking the door himself.

“Ransom, what the f-”

His plump pink and delicious lips are on yours before you can even finish your sentence, and what’s worse is that despite one measly attempt to push him off, you find yourself enjoying him, enjoying the way his mouth works yours so effortlessly.

Ryan. Ryan. Ryan

Your subconscious screams, willing you to listen. And it works, being as you push Ransom off as if he disgusts you, this time succeeding.

“Woah, thought i had you for a second there” he smirks, mocking you.

“You’ll never have me. I have a boyfriend” you state, as if that’s supposed to deter him, but if anything it spurs him on more. You wipe your mouth as you attempt to move around him to get to the door. How foolish of you. His broad and rather large frame blocks you before you can.

“Come on, sweetheart. You and i both know that you want me, so what’s the point in pretending. You know this feigned hating game is tiring” he chuckles, stepping closer to close the space you created only seconds ago.

And even if you desperately craved some kind of exit from him, you wouldn’t get one, everything is blocked. You’re backed up now, the bathroom counter hitting your back, ice cold as it makes contact with your skin.

The warmth of his whiskey scented breath spreads across your exposed skin, scattering treacherously, threatening to spin the two of you into a web of trouble.

“Don’t call me that” your voice lacks conviction, but you stand tall or at least attempt to. If you believe it, maybe it’ll show.

“Was that poor attempt made to convince me or yourself? Hm?” his index finger lingers under your chin lazily, barely even grazing your skin while you refrain from keening for more.

Although you’re almost certain that Ransom can see right through you, so what’s the point in keeping up this charade?

“Look at you” you look down at your body but before you can get a look, you’re being spun around, your own pathetic reflection staring right back at you in the bathroom mirror. No guilt in your eyes to suggest you’re about to turn him away as he creeps closer to your neck, his lips about to close on your skin whilst his teeth pierce you softly.

And the moment it occurs, your eyes roll to the back of your head as your hands grip at the counter with white knuckle force. Your head rolls to the side like a rag doll as he moves you to gain better access, his sinful and wondering hands wreaking havoc on you. The feelings he’s burdening your body with are feelings Ryan should be making you feel right now.

As your eyes meet his in the mirror and you are met with his signature playboy smirk, you feel yourself crumble all over again.

Why does he have to be so handsome, so dam irresistible?

His one hand steadies your body as the other grips the hem of your best dress, slowly lifting it, something that much to your dismay fills your traitorous body with excitement.

Ransoms breath catches as your pretty ass comes into his view, nothing but a tiny purple laced thong to cover your modesty, barely. A view he can’t help but groan at, guttural.

“Ryan is a very lucky man” the mention of your boyfriend brings you back to earth with a loud and very hard thud as you spin around on your heels, the champagne rushing to your head and causing you to stumble a little.

“Stop it” you snap, holding your hand out in protest to his advances, his very tempting advances.

“Don’t tell me your conscience just paid you a visit?” his sinister and mocking tone and facial expressions, the epitome of the devil on your shoulder. Luring you to him.

He’s right though, your conscience did pay you a visit, one that’s resulting in you contemplating leaving this party earlier than intended. Just to escape the brutal and overpowering sexual tension between the two of you that fizzes and crackles in the air like silent and invisible fireworks.

His hands reach out to grab a hold of your body once again, the needy nature inside of him refusing to let his chances with you slip through his thick digits that easily.

“Tell me, sweetheart. How long has it been since that boyfriend of yours touched you?” his steps are slow, menacing even until before you know it, he’s towering over you, intimidation at its finest.

Meanwhile his hand is dusting over the hem of your dress, lifting it up just as he did a mere few minutes earlier, exposing your panties again.

His voice is raspy, yet smooth as he backs you up to the bathroom counter, enticing you.

It’s getting impossibly hard to resist his womanising ways, the charms that led the many others that came before you to their inevitable fate. At Ransoms feet, his come dripping from their greedy pussy’s.

“Actually don’t answer that, it’s not an answer i don’t already know” his fingers are inching closer to the hem of your panties, teasing you at such a torturous pace that you’re afraid you’ll resort to begging. And since you’re trying to keep a firm hold on your loyalty to Ryan, begging isn’t an option, in fact no extra curricular activities involving Ransom are an option.

You are better than this. You have Ryan, you are happy with him.

You are.

As his fingers dip inside of your panties, you feel your integrity slipping away, your usual pulled together self watching on from a distance as your current intoxicated self allows his fingers to glide over your petals. Almost like astral projection.

A soft yet inviting groan escapes, rolling off of your tongue as you throw your head back in pleasure.

“There she is” his grin can be heard through his speech, a grin to show how smug he is with himself and his ability to lure in yet another woman.

What can he say, he has these skills when it comes to these things.

Your body arches, head remains thrown back as he inches closer to your entrance, index and middle fingers taking the time to figure you out before plunging in. Your hips start to move on their own accord as you silently give your consent for him to do whatever he wishes.

Ryan is now nothing but a distant memory, left to be remembered once the novelty of this moment wares off and you’re left alone with your thoughts.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” his body curls over yours, his other arm wrapping around your frame, a vice like grip on you as he gently pulls you up, your head now tilted back to look up at him. Your eyes meet, the intensity of his orbs holding you in place.

You’re incapable of looking elsewhere.

The words you never expected to utter out loud, in fact the words you never expected to utter to Ransom, they are about to escape your mouth. But the way he’s got you dripping with arousal, clenching around nothing as you anticipate the feel of his fingers inside of you, it’s got you throwing caution to the wind.

“I want you” your mouth hangs slack as your breathing grows heavier, his long eyelashes fluttering as his gaze flickers between your eyes to your tempting lips. And judging by the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips, he’s debating whether or not to kiss or admire you.

You poke your chin out on purpose in hopes that he’ll give you what you want, what he’s caused you to crave.

“Oh really? What happened to pushing me away, huh?” his fingers still circling your tight hole incessantly.

Boy is he going to revel in your vulnerability, your profound hunger for feeling full, full of him. But for the sake of your guilty conscience you’ll continue to lie to yourself about how he could be any man at this point or even that you’re envisioning Ryan. But the second he grips your chin in his free hand aggressively, forcing your eyes to meet his in the mirror. You’re lie slips away.

Fuck.

You roll your hips again whilst your own tongue pokes out to wet your lips before your teeth sink into your bottom one. Maybe that will do the trick.

He rolls his eyes, pleasure filled impatience as he watches you tease him. His cock hardening all the more, if that’s even possible as it digs into your navel. You just know it’s bothering him, paining him even to keep it hidden away in the tight confines of his boxers and slacks.

It won’t be long now.

His narrowed eyes continue to dance across your face, his brows are furrowed and you’re losing your patience, waiting is not a strong point of yours whatsoever.

“Kiss me” you whisper, barely even audible.

“Needy lil thing, aren’t you?” yet again, mocking.

“Please”

Ryan who?

And just like that his teeth are nipping at your bottom lip ferociously as he pulls you so close to him that you can’t see a single thing in the room but him, so close that you feel him all over you. All you can smell is the scent of scotch on his breath, mingling with the champagne on yours. A heady mix.

Once his teeth pull off, his lips replace them, soothing the marks over with his sinful tongue as it swipes over it gently, the calm before the passionate storm.

Before you know it, you’re battling his tongue for the role of dominant, a war you’ll never win, a war you were always destined to lose when it comes to going up against Ransom.

The two of you continue to go at it like lovestruck teenagers attempting to cram everything in before the return of strict parents. His hands roam your waist before suddenly breaking away, panting in time with you before he spins you around so that your eyes are now meeting his in the bathroom mirror again.

Menacing and harbouring god knows how many mental images of other women in his head, Ransom certainly isn’t short of experiences that would put your sexual past to shame. Something that intimidates you, yet you want the challenge of fighting to be the best of them all.

Despite being attached to another man.

His mouth hovers next to the weak spot on your neck, his eyes still looking into yours, the windows to your soul. His stare is unrelenting and flirtatious, one eyebrow raised as he leans closer, his lips wrapping around your earlobe causing goosebumps to cover you like a second skin entirely, scattered across your body.

He gives your earlobe a little attention before moving his focus to directly underneath it, your gasps allowing him to gather some insight into your weak spots. And as he continues to move lower and lower, the different sounds grow from gasps to whimpers and then eventually moans of high satisfaction.

And bingo, the spot just below your jaw gives him the best reaction, one that makes him want to keep going all night just to hear those pretty sounds of yours. The music he spurs you on to make gives his ego a little bit more than just a boost.

“Ransom” your eyes screw shut as your head lands backwards on his shoulder, his lips and tongue wreaking havoc on your body as his cock presses into your lower back teasingly. His fingers still circling your tight hole, making you wonder if he ever plans to explore your walls.

But just as you start to grind your ass into his crotch, your way of pushing the boat along, his fingers slip in, driving home a little too easily. Thanks to the arousal he drew from your body.

“Yes, sweetheart?” his tone is nothing short of seductive, his words portray a man on his knees willing to do whatever to please you and there’s something so hot about a man at a woman’s disposal.

“Fuck me” your panting should make it impossible for him to understand you, the way your hands are finding purchase on the counter as you grind on his palm every time it collides with your clit when his fingers are knuckle deep.

Desperation isn’t even a suitable enough word for how badly you crave the fucking you know he’s more than capable of giving you. You want this just as much as him, as bad as that seems.

“Beg for it, wanna hear how badly you want my cock”

Is he serious? Clearly so.

Surely your words should be enough. But then again, Ransom is obviously the type to crave ratification and assurance that you want him and you’re not just playing around.

Consent is everything to Ransom, despite his trust fund prick and playboy ways.

His reputation precedes him, everything you’ve heard up until now, all a mix of negative and positive-though the positive rumours don’t come around all too often-so it’s hard to decipher just how many of those are true.

But one thing you do know is that he’s not all bad, or at least not as bad as he’s made out to be.

You can probably be honest here and confess that it’s a huge plus point with Harlan. The way he allows Ransom his freedom and bad spending habits yet he still teaches him right from wrong when possible. And on the occasions where the family talk shit about the playboy, Harlan is always ready to defend him. The majority of the time that is. Harlan once told you that he sees a lot of his younger self in his grandson, unruly behaviour, womanising tendencies and whatnot, and then his defence of Ransom suddenly didn’t seem completely unwarranted.

It’s like he knows exactly how Ransom is feeling and what he’s going through at this stage in his life, so he tries to go a little easier on him whilst also continuing to be that pivotal figure in his life, the one that’s there to support rather than tear him down like his daughter does.

The less you touch on when it comes to Linda, the better.

The woman is nice enough, but she has no clue about parenting.

And that’s enough on her.

“Please fuck me” you murmur, eyes wavering from his until he holds your chin still, his fingers slowing down inside of you, he scissors them deep within, your pussy juices coating them deliciously.

Once your eyes return to his in the mirror, he covers your view by leaning his head around to kiss you, tongues collide, teeth clash, lips move in a rushed yet established rhythm.

“Look at me” his grip on your cheeks grows stronger, vice like, as his head returns to its previous position, his eyes back on yours in the mirror and now you’re gulping as you struggle to maintain eye contact. He intimidates you in the best kind of way.

"I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me"

Your eager nature has you nodding your head over enthusiastically, just wishing the time away until his cock is buried balls deeps inside of you and you’re on the receiving end of a fucking you’ve well and truly earnt.

Another rumour about Ransom, one you have no doubts on whether or not it’s true and one you’ve heard way too many times to try and count now, is that sex is his specialty, pleasing a woman whilst also pleasing himself is his talent.

Some people can sing, some people can write, some people can bake, Ransom can fuck.

The thought of finally experiencing his skills causes your mouth to water, your body to shiver and your mind to wonder. It races with all of the things he could do to you right now, and you love that. All possibilities are on the cards, you are now at his disposal.

“Yes, i want it” you whimper, biting down on your bottom lip as you clamp down around his still fingers, and as he withdraws them, lifting them up into the air for you to feast your eyes on, you feel more arousal pool at your entrance.

“So pretty, baby. All your juices covering my fingers” he pokes his tongue out to lick some of it off, humming his appreciation for your taste before dangling them in front of your flustered self, like candy.

“You taste just as good as you look, actually no, you taste better”

That’s all you needed to take them into your own mouth, wanting a taste of yourself too, the jealousy of the satisfaction inflicted on him was too much.

“Mhmm” your hummed agreement as you suck everything from his fingers, no drop wasted.

He rips his fingers free before wrapping his hand around your neck snugly, his mouth now on yours in a heated kiss. The two of you sharing your taste.

Tongues exploring again, your hand roaming behind you and cupping his size, getting more than just a handful.

“Mhmm, i wonder what your boyfriend would do if he knew what you were doing right now” his smug voice fails to alert you of your current commitment to Ryan, or better yet, it fails to make you feel an ounce of guilt. You’re saving the self hatred for later, that’s your just deserts.

The clink of his belt as he uses one hand to undo it slipping his slacks down along with his boxers, it echoes in the room, the silence allowing your nerves and excitement to reach new heights and the moment you reach your hand back to wrap around him, your eyes grow wide.

He’s bigger than you expected, but then again, you have no clue what you expected really.

His large hands tug on your panties, slipping them to the side before his bulbous head rests patiently at the entrance. He smacks it on your exposed hole twice, knocking before entering.

You eagerly push back against him, not wanting to wait another second without him inside you.

“Someone’s needy” he chuckles, mocking you, yet the way his hands splay across your ass, spreading it apart as your arousal assists him, pulling him inside, says he’s far from mocking.

The breath he sucks in as your entrance catches around him, the view so pretty to him that he cannot take his eyes away. He nudges you forward, causing your elbows to rest on the counter as he eases himself inside.

Your heart racing as you feel the delicious stretch, your pussy accommodating to fit him inside just about.

“Oh god” your guttural moans escape before Ransom reaches around to cover your mouth, as unashamed as he is about the type of person he is, the last thing he wants for you is for his grandfather to find out. Especially since Harlan has met Ryan.

You’d also hate for him to think any less of you and question your morals.

Although they are questionable. Very much so.

The moment he’s seated to the hilt inside of you, you press your hand to your navel, swearing that you can feel him there. So full, so content, so right that it should be wrong.

This will surely haunt you until you confess to Ryan, laying your sins out for him.

“God can’t save you now, sweetheart” his smirk catches your attention in the mirror as he bends you over a little more, your face inches from the mirror. His hand scooping up a handful of your hair and pulling lightly, the burn on your scalp mixing with the pleasure of his cock as he pulls out slowly before slamming back in, it makes you forget the pain he’s inflicting on your head.

Moan after moan, panting, skin slapping against skin, all of it echoes in the room, bouncing off the vintage walls.

The pace is relentless, animalistic, he barely waited a minute before he started to destroy your pussy, rearranging your guts to please himself.

Your eyes watch as he grips at your ass, keeping those cheeks spread as his jaw hangs slack, occasionally biting his bottom lip and rolling his eyes back in pleasure.

Now that you’re left to mute yourself, you have no clue how you’re going to keep shtum.

This feels too good, so sinful yet beautiful.

“S’tight, feels so fucking good” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you.

As much as Ransom is dying to be buried inside of you for as long as humanly possible, he knows it’s in his best interest to make this as quick as possible now, seeing as the foreplay took longer than he intended. He just couldn’t help but take his time, teasing you and making you beg for it was one hundred percent worth it.

“Can feel you squeezing my cock, sweetheart, gonna come huh?”

His eyes look over to meet yours, mascara barely holding onto your lashes without running as you refrain from crying tears of pleasure, proof of the pure ecstasy he’s dousing your body in.

“Yes” you just about manage, struggling to keep your legs from giving way as they shake at your impending orgasm, your heels wobbling on the floor pathetically.

“Beg to come” he growls, curling his own body over yours as he lands two hard smacks onto your ass cheeks, his eyes not leaving yours. Your body is shivering.

The rumours are most definitely true. No doubt about that.

“Please let me come, Ra-”

“Uh-uh. What’s my name, baby?”

His eyes hold the answer.

“Please let me come, sir”

The content smile on his face alerts you of his approval as he smacks your ass again whilst pounding into you over and over.

He snakes his arm around your delicate frame, lifting you up, despite your obvious struggle to remain standing.

Once your upright a little, his mouth appears next to your ear, his whispers of “come for me, now” spur you on. Your spiritual body falling off of that cliff edge whilst dragging him down with you as his cock twitches deep inside of you.

The reminder of his lack of protection comes as his hot spurts of ejaculate fill you up, something that you should have been on top of but at the same time, you’re sated state could care less. Besides, you’re on the pill, what’s a little bit of Drysdale come going to do?

He shudders as he slows his pace down, his face contorting as he keeps his loud groans and growls in for your own sake. His gentlemanly side showing.

As he pulls out, you stand there gobsmacked at the nature of what you just did, the activity you just partook in with a man you usually hate. Well, you hate his actions and personality, his looks you admire.

He starts to re dress, leaving you with his come dripping down your legs, a sight that could easily have him ready to go again.

“Everything okay?” he asks, attempting to care, but then again, maybe he does. Just maybe.

“I just cheated on Ryan” the enormity of it hitting your body full force, a force that knocks the wind from your lungs, leaving you panting and struggling to breathe.

He catches your sad expression in the mirror, the internal battle he’s having with himself on whether or not he should comfort you or leave, it’s a hard one. He can’t decide. But before he does, you pull your panties up and turn to face him.

“You don’t have to stay. I chose to do this, and i will deal with the consequences of my actions” your tone neutral, giving him no insight into what you’re going to do next. Your words suggest confessing but given your commitment to Ryan, Ransom can’t ever imagine you destroying it.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, i’m just going to clean up here and then i think it’s best if i go home”

His nod of agreement as his face goes blank, unreadable.

“For what it’s worth, i enjoyed myself. And i know you have a boyfriend but i’d like to think you did too” his tone remaining neutral too, less of the cockiness he’s so well known for.

“I did, that’s the worst part. Anyways, you don’t have to listen to my self pity, you best get back before Harlan comes searching for you” your suggestion is successful as he leaves the room once his slacks are zipped and buttoned up and his belt is tight around his waist.

No more words uttered.

The memories finish flashing through your mind as you lay in bed next to Ryan, you don’t plan on sleeping tonight. It’s 2:00am and you’re being kept awake by the replay of last week, it haunts you nightly, your brains way of forcing you to tell him the truth. Something that he deserves, so who would you be to keep it from him?

All you can do is brace yourself for the storm once the morning light shines into the room you share with him.

God can’t save you now.

---------------------------------

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hotchnerxo · 2 years

Text

Would anyone know? Aaron Hotchner one shot

A/N: ANGSTY ANGST! I've been feeling super emotional this week, for some reason. Just needed to write it all out and I just started season 3 of CM, so here u go! My apologies for these sad fics lately, don't know why I'm feeling like I do. Summary: After Gideon's gone and Hailey and Jack moved away, sleepless nights are a norm for Agent Hotchner. Would the team be better off without him? Words: 950 Warning: Depressive thoughts, separation, mention of Reid's drug addiction

Would anyone know?

The jet’s dim and quiet. Everyone was asleep, trying to recharge after the day’s work. Try to move on from the day’s horrors and remain human.

But no matter how much his body craved it, he couldn’t. He couldn’t close his eyes, no matter how heavy they were getting. He was afraid to let himself rest. He was afraid to drift off to sleep, afraid he would not want to return. Hotchner’s eyes blurred as he gazed out of the small window. It was pitch black, only city lights shining far below them.

Only a few weeks ago, Aaron’s mentor Jason Gideon had retired. A part of him saw it coming, as the man had gone through so much and he could no longer handle the darkness of their job. But now, Agent Hotchner was doubtful of his skills to lead his team. To keep them safe and make the right decisions. It came so fast, he didn’t even get to say goodbye and he doesn’t have time to mourn for his lost friend. He has to keep it together, for his team’s sake.

And not long after all that, his wife had had enough and moved out, taking their son with her. The love of his life and the little boy he loves more than he thought was ever possible for a cold heart to feel. He’s already missed so many big milestones of his son’s life, now he no longer shares his home with him. And his wife, who he fell in love with the moment he saw her in high school.

But deep down, he knew to expect this. She was constantly upset about his work hours. She was constantly let down by him. It’s not that he didn’t love her, he loved her so much. He still does. He can’t pinpoint the day it all happened, the day he realized he couldn’t escape his past anymore. He noticed more and more of his own father in himself and it terrified him more than he can put into words. He can’t pinpoint the day he decided that he’s not going to ruin his son’s childhood, even if it meant he wouldn’t be there for him.

Aaron slowly moves his eyes to look around the jet. The youngest of the team was curled up under a blanket on the couch. Gideon was his mentor, as well. Jason had taken the young doctor under his wing. Spencer took his absence the hardest, and deep down Aaron prayed and hoped for him to stay sober and clean. Spencer had worked so hard to get clean from dilaudid and the team leader wished he knew how to help him. But he didn’t know how. Another disappointment in his book.

At the other end of the couch, the team’s liaison was curled up in a similar position. Derek Morgan was fast asleep, headphones covering his ears. The man was tall and his position looked somewhat uncomfortable on the chair at the back. The newest addition to the team, Agent Emily Prentiss was leaning her head to the window, her long jacket on top of her like a blanket.

They all looked so at peace and calm. Something he could not relate to. His heart felt like a storm inside of his chest. His soul felt empty yet so heavy at the same time. It felt stained by all the cases he’s ever worked on, stained by blood and pain of every victim. Stained by the tears of his wife crying alone at home, waiting for her husband to come home, only to be dissapointed time after time. By his friends and agent’s fear and hurt.

Would the team be better off without him? They all have each other, they’re knit tight like a family. Does he fit in? He’s their boss, he’s their superior. He knows he’s sometimes hard on them, has he gone too far? Has he failed them as a boss? Could he have done more to help Morgan with his past? Could he have helped Reid more with his addiction? Has he been supportive enough to their liaison, who he highly respects? Has he been too hard on their newest addition?

All these questions are running in his head, million miles an hour. But what was the most important question of it all: Would any of them notice if he didn’t show up to work one day? If he didn’t get himself out of bed one morning, would anyone care? He wanted to believe so, but a quiet voice inside of him was trying to convince him otherwise. He wanted to believe someone would care enough, but the truth is, he’s alone. No one would notice if he didn’t get out of bed on his time off. No one would notice if he skipped a meal or two, just to sleep. No one would notice if the house was starting to be a mess.

Aaron tried to fight back his tears, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could fight. He was tired and he was empty. He didn’t feel like he’d have anything left to give, making him worthless. He wasn’t useful anymore, he couldn’t do anything right. As if he always has to prove that he’s something, that he’s someone. He no longer has anything to give, he doesn’t have the energy to prove it any longer.

He’s unsure when the tears had started falling, he was startled by the salty taste left on his lips. He knows he’s lost his smile a long time ago and he’s not sure if he’ll ever find it again.

Taglist: @ssahotchsbitch @mayasreadingnook @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @ssamorganhotchner @kajjaka @reidsbookmark @thenewnormalforensicator @wheelsupkels @thedancingnerdmermaid @agirlinherhead ( mention or message me if you want to be added)

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fanfiction #fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #hotch #hotch angst #aaron hotchner angst #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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hongcherry · 3 years

Note

49 + angst jungkook please ?

Save You || jjk

"You're supposed to be at war with the angels, but you can't seem to abandon a certain sarcastic archangel during the battle."

From prompt list: “Why did you have to go and fall in love with me?”

🗡️ Pairing: archangel!Jungkook x human!Reader

🗡️ Rating/Genre: PG-17; Angst, action, angel au, implied apocalyptic au, Angelfall (book) au

🗡️ Warning(s): Fighting and injuries (punches, stabs, cuts, choking, kicking), weapons (swords, bows), near-death experience, mentions of blood, a gross demonic creature (lol, it's gnarly), cursing, pain is inflected

🗡️ Word Count: 4.0k

🗡️ Author’s Note: Several things: First, this was based around my favorite book, Angelfall by Susan Ee. I've been wanting to do a fic based on this book for a long time because I absolutely adore it. I've read it at least five times no joke lol the only book I've ever reread that many times. I might make another because I rushed this one. Secondly, thank you so much, anon, for this prompt! Ahhh I loved it. So many heartbreaking possibilities to make with it. I had multiple ideas hehe. This is the most asks I've ever gotten so ahh my heart. I also apologize for the delay! I kept changing the fic (it's way longer than I planned) then I got sick yesterday and couldn't work on it D: Anyway, I'll shush now. Enjoy, everyone! ^-^

Send in a request!

masterlist

It was an obvious decision.

You were going to save him.

There wasn’t any hesitation when you realized this could be his end. However, it was pitch black at the moment and your eyes couldn’t adjust to the darkness quick enough. There was screaming around you—suffocating you in distress, terror, and panic. You couldn’t do anything for him until the lights turned on. But those twenty seconds felt like a lifetime and you were too anxious to wait.

Steadily, yet swiftly, you pulled out an arrow from your quiver. From years of practice, you didn’t need to see to align the arrow against the bow properly. The only problem was you couldn’t locate your target.

You planted your feet firmly on the broken Incheon bridge, the ground underneath your feet hard and solid. There was nothing you could do to make the lights turn on sooner. They were on a timer, along with the screeching noise emitting from the big speakers nearby.

With the high-pitch noise, it allowed the humans a chance to fight. For once, the angel’s super-sensitive hearing was a flaw. They were forced to cover their ears from the loud noise. Though, everyone has their imperfections—human or nonhuman. For humans, it was the fact you couldn’t see well in the dark. Angels, on the other hand, had built-in night vision. So while the lights were off, the screeching was on. You could target at least one of their weaknesses while your own weakness hindered you. Though even with your earplugs, the sound was obnoxious. However, the lights and the noise were necessary. The constant change in sound and lights made sure the angels couldn’t get accustomed to either. There wasn’t enough time to get used to the bright light or the high-pitch ringing.

The fight between the angels and the humans was one for the history books. None of the angels believed you scurrying rats could, or would ever, battle them. It was insane, really, to expect the humans to win against adonis-like creatures who were powerful and tyrant. Yet, the goal wasn’t to win. It was to prove a point to the other humans on earth. You didn’t have to succumb to these assholes. While angels saw humans as monkeys, they truly underestimated the brains of millions of monkeys.

However, with Jungkook on your side, you had a better chance of winning. It was your team and Jungkook’s against Baekhyeon’s, another archangel. Baekhyeon only saw humans as worthless and weak. His followers had the same mindset.

When the lights flickered on again, you blinked rapidly to adjust your eyesight.

The beast was in front of you. Its large canines nipped in the air as it stalked toward you. It was revolting. The way the body was human while the majority of the heads, yes plural, were not. There was a human’s head, a lion’s, a cheetah’s, and a wolf’s. A tail akin to a scorpion rose above its head, jabbing into the air tauntingly. It had your whole body tingle in disgust.

If it weren’t for the fact that thing could easily rip you and the other humans to shreds, you would’ve run with your tail between your legs. But that wasn’t you. No matter how frightened you were, people were counting on you. Ironically, you thought to yourself. A weak little girl like you? Supposed to save all humanity? Outrageous.

But no matter how much you tried to argue it, it always fell on deaf ears. You guessed that saving everyone you could made you some sort of hero. You wish you weren’t.

You pulled back on your bow when you spotted your target; however, as soon as you released the arrow, a terrified human bumped into you on their way to escape. It caused your arrow to soar in the wrong direction and for your ass to hit the cold concrete.

The humans were more petrified than before. Five more of these monstrosities climbed onto the bridge. Their origin was unknown, but that didn’t matter to you. One look at these ungodly beasts lit a flame under everyone and they were darting to get away from it. Who could blame them, though? You wanted to do the same.

Your daze didn’t last long and you were back on your feet within seconds. You were too deep into the crowd—being pushed and shoved in different directions. You were never going to get a good enough shot at the beast.

So you did what any sane person like you would do.

You went against the hysterical crowd—straight toward the beast.

If you strained your ears, you could hear people cry out your name. Your sister, your mother, your friends. But out of all the voices, one stood out the most.

Jungkook’s.

Your eyes shot up to the sky, spotting the archangel’s broad frame against the darkening sky. His white wings were wide and beating against the air. He was painstakingly beautiful (though you would never admit that to him. His ego was already too big). A stark contrast to the ugliness staggering toward you. His Watchers, the group of angels who happily served under him, were beside him.

While the humans ran for their lives, the angels were brawling. Fists were flying and swords were clashing. It was a mess of feathers, blood, and hollering.

Jungkook was in the middle of swinging down his sword at an opponent before he twirled to attack the one behind him. Though his eyes weren’t as focused as they should be. He kept flicking his gaze down at you. He wanted to fly down, dropkick the beast that was stalking toward you and scoop you away from this disaster.

“Worry about yourself,” you shouted at him. Only one of the monsters was on you while two angels were on him. You just needed to take this thing out. Simple.

You plucked another arrow from your quiver and positioned it against your bow. Jungkook shook his head wildly at your words and began to fly down, hell-bent on getting you out of there. Unfortunately, two sets of strong arms pulled him back, a powerful fist meeting his cheek. Jungkook’s stare broke from yours to fight his attacker.

Your eyes flickered to the beast as it was getting closer. You inhaled deeply as you tried to calm down your nerves.

“Yn!” Jungkook cried out again, but you kept your eyes averted. It was too easy to get lost in him. Too easy to get distracted by his eyes, his voice, him.

You heard him call out your name again. It was a complete contrast to what you were used to. Jungkook was usually composed. His voice would be steady and he would always be sure of himself. It was disgusting how much confidence he oozed. From his sarcastic replies to his scolding stares, Jungkook was always assured of himself.

Until now.

His voice wavered. If you weren’t in such a grave situation, you would’ve teased him about it. Told him that he wasn’t as composed as he thought he was. Joke that maybe he was a little more human than he perceived. Maybe even get in a few elbow jabs while you were at it. It would’ve earned you a deadly glare, but it would’ve been worth it.

While Jungkook wanted to believe he could save you, he wasn’t entirely sure if that was possible. He wanted to rescue you, despite knowing how against you were at being a damsel in distress, but he knew in the back of his mind he wouldn’t be able to get to you faster. He couldn’t even make it three feet until his wings were being pulled backward by another angel. Maybe if he was more focused he could’ve beat down his opponents quicker.

“How pathetic,” Baekhyeon laughed wickedly as he watched Jungkook spiral into distress. He had just sliced through a Watcher’s wing, causing the angel to become unbalanced and tumble out of the sky. “Your Daughter of Man is nothing but dinner for that bastard. Why are you even fretting over her?”

Jungkook’s glare was something to be terrified of. It was as sharp as the edge of a glass shard. It was as ferocious as a tiger’s. It was as deadly as poison. But no matter how badly Jungkook wanted to behead the angel, he would be condemned to angel prison for eternity for killing a fellow brethren. And while he considered it worth it for a moment, he couldn’t leave you behind. Not right now. Not ever.

Instead, Jungkook sheathed his sword and grabbed one of the angels attacking him. Because he was an archangel, he was stronger than the average angel. He moved the angel with ease as if he was simply a ragdoll to him. Jungkook swiveled in the air once and threw the angel into Baekhyeon.

Baekhyeon tried to dodge the angel, but he flew into Baekyeon’s wing and caused him to do a 180. Jungkook didn’t wait to attack, brandishing his sword and slicing it against Baekhyeon’s chest with a growl.

Down below, you couldn’t hear much from the pounding of your heart against your ribcage. There was no time to back out. The beast was advancing quicker, the desire to catch you causing it to increase its pace.

You raised your bow unhesitantly, steadying your aim at one of the heads before you let the arrow fly into the air.

The lion’s head roared. Gurgling sounds echoed into the night as it swayed, determined to not lose the fight. Eventually, it settled, slumping at an awkward angle that had your own neck tingle with faux discomfort.

As you retrieved another arrow and positioned it at another head, the lights flickered off.

Darkness consumed you and with the fast change of lighting, you were momentarily blinded. Without wasting another second, you released your arrow. You prayed the head was still in the same position. Prayed that the arrow found its target.

From the sudden screaming, you knew it had.

But your luck has run out. You could try again, hoping that if you aimed slightly to the right it would hit another head, but it was too risky. You only had enough arrows to hit the remaining heads without any mistakes.

You couldn’t hear anything over the screeching of the speaker and the beast, so you weren’t sure how close the beast was to you now.

Before you could switch to the kitchen knife you had found stashed in an abandoned house, you felt a hand grip your upper arm. For a moment, you thought it was Jungkook. For a moment, you thought you were saved.

The hand, albeit very human-like, was anything but.

The beast screamed, breath fanning against your face and making your face scrunch from the rotten smell. The hand suddenly yanked you to the floor harshly. The action was too quick for you to maintain a balanced position, so you fell back with a gasp. The quiver dug into your back, bow sliding who knows where as you landed.

The panic inside your chest rose—had you stiffen momentarily.

Though, you couldn’t linger on the fear gripping onto you. When you recovered, you slid your knife from your combat boot and started to slash randomly in front of you. If that thing came near you, at least you could get a few slices in.

Unexpectedly, the lights shifted on. It has not been twenty seconds yet. You spared a quick look to where the timer was at and spotted one of your fellow humans had switched them on. You recognized her as the kind, young lady who you briefly met on your adventures over the weeks. You guessed she had turned off the timer, hoping it would help you even though it gave the angels an upper hand at sight.

When you glanced back at the beast, it had its arms reaching toward your neck. You didn’t hesitate to swing your knife at the extending arms. The beast let out another screech, stinger jerking at you as it stayed persistent in its actions. Its hands wrapped around your throat and instantly clamped down. You sucked in a sharp breath before it could restrict you completely.

“Get off me,” you faintly heard Jungkook’s bellow over the pounding of your heart. His voice was sharp and sounded like lightning crackling—booming and powerful.

You scrambled behind you to grab an arrow. Luckily, it was not broken, and you swiftly jammed it in one of the heads. The beast reeled back slightly, giving you enough time to kick at its chest. It staggered backward and you pulled yourself away, gasping for air as you did so.

Despite the beast being injured, it was relentless and before you could ground yourself—mentally and physically—it launched forward.

The grip on your ankle was unyielding. You thrashed in its hold, trying to kick the hand away with your other foot. While it worked the first time, the other hand came down on it quickly, enclosing both your ankles. It pulled your body toward it, concrete scraping against exposed skin as your shirt raised slightly. However, you didn’t have time to let the pain get to you. That wasn’t your biggest concern.

The hand that was on your knife was clammy, making it hard to keep a secure grip around the handle. Your eyes darted from the remaining heads screaming to the jabbing stinger.

Suddenly a chorus of screeching had your eyes moving past the beast in front of you. The monsters that appeared earlier had come back from chasing off the humans. They looked unscratched for the most part, maybe a few injuries here and there, but nothing that would hinder their movements.

Even though you had glanced away for a second, it was a second too long.

A scream tore from your throat when you felt the stinger pierce your shoulder. Pain shot throughout your body, taking the air from your lungs. Your eyes were wide and you let go of your knife to try to pull the tail away from your body. Your movements were stopped by the beast as it smacked your hands away. The remaining heads opened their mouths and leaned down at you. They gnawed at the air, hinting at what was to come.

As you were about to attempt to kick the beast away, another pang of pain emitted from your shoulder.

The stinger was ripped from you. It felt like a barbed wire was pulled from your skin, the extraction not as smooth as you had hoped. Your vision became spotty from the pain and all you could hear was your harsh breathing. All your senses were momentarily halted, only focused on the pain from the stinger. Your limbs were quick to grow weak. You fell back against the rough concrete. However, you were still on alert so you forced yourself to sit up, hands pressing against the floor and head leaning to the side.

When you regained your surroundings, you saw the beast soaring across the bridge. The source of the throw was one, maddening and barbaric angel. Jungkook’s features were stone-cold, eyes ablaze as he withdrew his sword. He stalked toward the beast as if he was hunting his prey. Though, it wasn’t really hunting. The throw had injured the beast and it was scrambling to move away from the archangel. You could feel the fear radiating from the beast as Jungkook walked to it. Hell, Jungkook wasn’t even moving toward you but your own breath was caught in your throat from fear.

Jungkook grabbed the beast’s ankle, dragging it closer—mimicking what the beast had done to you earlier—before he stomped one boot-clad foot harshly onto the tail. The beast hissed and wiggled beneath Jungkook, but it did nothing to alter Jungkook’s decision. He gave the beast a look of utter loath before he lifted his sword and swung it down on the tail, cutting off the stinger part. The beast howled in torment, thrashing feverishly. There were no hints of remorse on Jungkook’s hardened face. He lifted his sword once more then made a clean slice upon the beast’s neck. It was a smooth cut as if he was cutting jello. The screeching lasted for a few seconds before it vanished into the night.

Jungkook was breathing heavily, forehead perspiring. He seemed to be in his own world as he stared down at the beast. It wasn’t until he heard your voice that he snapped out of his thoughts.

“Jungk-” you tried to call out, but your sentence was cut short when you felt your arms buckle under your weight. You fell back onto the floor once more, the feeling of your quiver digging into your back barely noticeable.

Jungkook was kneeled next to you within seconds. His large hands lifted your body up so he could slide underneath it. He peered down at you, doe eyes wide and alarmed. You whimpered when he accidentally bumped into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m here, Yn, okay?”

You nodded weakly, a small smile playing on your lips as you stared up at his handsome face, etched with grief. Jungkook reached a hand out and brushed away a few pieces of your hair that were stuck from your sweat.

“It’s going to be o-” Jungkook stopped when he saw your eyes droop. They were feeling too heavy to keep them open.

“Hey, hey, hey, eyes on me.” Jungkook’s voice was frantic. He caressed your face to get your attention again. “Keep your eyes on me, Yn.”

You tried to do what he said. But it was difficult. It was so difficult.

Jungkook cursed under his breath.

“Why did you have to go and fall in love with me?” Jungkook whispered, mouth tugged in a deep frown, eyes glossing from the tears swelling in them. Yet even now, he refused to cry. Refused to let you see him cry.

A frail laugh. “Who said I fell in love with you?” You breathed out, light and airy. The last few words were so soft that they were barely audible. But Jungkook heard them.

He always heard you.

Although he found it difficult to laugh with you this time, he couldn’t stop the tiny smile from forming on his lips. Even while losing consciousness you still found a chance to sass him. He hated the way his heart clutched at the action—hated the way he fell harder at that moment.

“You didn’t need to,” Jungkook said, a hint of playfulness to his tone to keep your spirits up. There was nothing more heartbreaking than seeing you grow paler, weaker in his arms. He wanted to see that smile he had grown to love. He wanted to take the pain from you any way he could.

“Does this mean you won?” You asked quietly, head lolling slightly before you tugged it up. Jungkook adjusted his grasp and slid a hand behind your head for support. His eyes were full of emotions. It was different from his stone-cold expressions, but there was so much swimming in those dark eyes that you couldn’t decipher any of it. At least not in the state you were in.

“Seems so,” he sighed. He didn’t seem as thrilled as he should be. He opened his mouth to tell you that even though he had won the title of being the Messenger, it didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want it. But he didn’t want to spend this time talking about extraneous topics. He wanted to talk about you.

He felt, rather than saw, your body gradually deflate. Each second made it harder to keep your body up. Even against Jungkook’s arms, you forced yourself to not completely relax.

“Jungkook.” Your soft voice had his eyes refocusing. The gentle way you said his name made his heart clutch, a foreign emotion snaking around his chest and squeezing. It made his throat clog, but he swallowed down the feeling.

“I’m here,” he repeated, thumb rubbing over your cheek. You used your remaining strength to lift your hand to his face; however, you underestimated how much energy you had and your fingers barely grazed his jaw. Nevertheless, Jungkook leaned down to get closer, chasing your hand as it fell back down just to feel you against him more.

Your body was numbing. You couldn’t feel Jungkook’s hand on your cheek, couldn’t feel the way he held you so fondly.

“Y-you said I wasn’t-” a breath “-your Daughter of Man.”

You put on a teasing front to hide your curiosity. You recalled the way he had denied he had any connection with you before—constantly telling you an angel with a human was absurd and disturbing. You were simply an acquaintance on his journey to find his way back home.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. However, the brief irritation was directed to himself and not you. He shook his head slightly.

“And you said you didn’t fall in love with me.”

You tried to laugh, but what came out was just small puffs of air. It had Jungkook’s demeanor crack at the choppy sound. His face fell for a moment, unable to control his facial features as he showed you a glimpse of what he was truly feeling. Your heart shattered at it. The agony and anguish contorting his features had you wishing now more than ever that you could Houdini your way out of this situation.

“Touché,” you murmured, smile fading as you slowly slumped in his arms. Even the smile you tried to hold was hard. Every muscle in your body was melting into liquid.

“Don't-” Jungkook pleaded so lowly that part of it got lost in the wind. “D-Don’t leave me.”

What you wanted to say was that he didn’t need you. A big, powerful archangel like himself didn’t need to cling onto a simple human. That you were nothing but a pebble stuck under his boot compared to him. You were minuscule in the big scheme of things.

Instead, you simply replied, “Never,” before your vision was drowned in darkness and your muscles gave out, sagging completely into his arms.

Jungkook felt empty. His wings expanded, curling around the two of you as he let his walls crumble in the privacy of his make-shift room. He felt his body threaten to shake with a sob, but even with you no longer looking, he still could feel other eyes on him. The eyes of his Watchers and his opponents. It made him feel uneasy and he silently wished they would just disappear.

Everything felt wrong. As if the world was no longer round and the oceans were pink instead of blue. Everything was out of place.

Or maybe that was him since he was grieving over a Daughter of Man.

A shaky breath left his parted lips and he bowed his head, leaning his forehead against yours to feel your warm skin. Silent tears rolled down his perfectly tan cheeks, a few landing on your face.

But it was odd. Jungook could still feel the faintest brush of air near his face.

He stayed still, brushing it off to reason it was a gust of wind slipping past his spread wings. It wasn’t until he felt the subtle rise and fall of your chest against his that he snapped up. His eyes grew wide as he narrowed his eyes on your chest.

He was hallucinating. He knew it.

He was filled with so much grief that his head was making him see things. Yet, part of him wanted to believe he wasn’t, so with a shaky hand, he rested two fingers against the underside of your jawline on the side of your neck.

A pulse.

“Yn?” He said ever so softly, heart racing with resurging hope. You didn’t reply, but the constant moving of your chest told him you didn’t leave him. It dawned on him that the stinger had just paralyzed you. For how long? He didn’t know. Could be for a few hours, months, years, or forever. Whatever the case, he was determined to undo what the beast had done.

Because no matter how much you weren’t a damsel in distress, he was always going to save you.

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siriusmydeer · 3 years

Note

ooo okay so a James Potter x reader soulmate au where they feel each others pain, and she has a suspicion he's her soulmate but it's confirmed when he falls off his broom, and she hates him being her soulmate because he's in love with lily, but he says that lily doesn't matter anymore blah blah, and she says she first thought it was him when he fell of a bench in the great hall or something after confessing his love for lily in front of the entire school (1)

‘all along that they were soulmates but she tells him its really inconsiderate for being so obvious about his love for lily when he knew he had a soulmate and he feels really guilty and tries to make it up for her and yeah fluff ending please :)’

the painful soulmate

james potter x fem!reader

summary: in a world where you can feel your soulmates pain; your soulmate happens to think someone else is his soulmate

word count: 2.2k

warning: swearing, mentions of verbally abusing someone, mentions of beating people up, injuries; falling in the air, cracked ribs, tripping, face planting. joking name calling, kissing, angst, soulmate au, insinuation of unrequited love, fluff ending

by the age of 16 you and every other witch along with wizard were given a particular... gift. you wouldn’t consider it a gift, more like your worse fucking nightmare but you could squeal and pretend to be all dainty and excited about meeting your soulmate.

i mean why not give someone a choice on who they wanted to love? this wasn’t a game of spin the bottle this was forever.

being the only female in your friend group, made all the boys amongst you ridiculously pry into your privacy. wanting to know who they had to verbally torture considering they would scoop up the ‘precious little baby-girl’ of the group.

coming directly from the drama queen himself; sirius black. it’s not like they could beat up your partner because you would be able to feel his or her pain as-well.

you were sat in the marauders dorm absently playing with your fingers while looking at each of your mates, sirius and remus attempted to finish their plans on a new prank for the newest defence against the dark arts teacher, james sat at his desk table writing up ways to ask lily more dramatically than the last and peter had been figuring out his transfiguration homework from a few days prior.

“prongs, if you know she’s gonna say no, then why ask?” remus questioned not even looked at the sapphire-eyed boy. his only logic being, ‘well ill turn her no into a yes.’ as if coercion was the way to go.

the brunette sat at the table swiftly turning his head in the lyncanthropes direction, his spectacles almost falling down his nose from the quick snap of his head. “well, lily-pad has always said, ‘not in a million years!’ but that means after a million years she’d go out with me.” finishing his speech with a small grin.

the rest of the group on the other hand looked at him dumbfounded. eyebrows either scrunched or furrowed, “james m’afraid that’s not how it works.” you spoke, trying to ease his feelings as if your words could stop his incessant pining.

“well, i’ll just make it work!” turning around and continuing his list, speaking as if he was godric gryffindor coming up with the best idea of the century. “ten galleons she says no again.” sirius quickly whispers in peters direction, the dirty blonde haired boy doing a quick nod then looking back at his parchment.

“i heard that!”

the next time there was a ramble of soulmate talk, which by the way you were getting exhausted from. why did everyone have to have a soulmate? why couldn’t you pick from your own free will? it’s not even like you could have a bloody crush because there was already someone supposedly out there for you!

one free period, ONE! and it’s spent over peter narrowing down his options on all the gryffindor girls he might be paired with. “it’s definitely not marls, peter.” sirius’ pearl irises glanced at peter than over to remus who was trying to teach you how to play wizards chess.

“moony, not to be offensive, but this game sucks arse.” you shrugged, glaring at your queen piece that looked like it wanted to yell at you. as you were twisting around the wood of your pieces, james got up from the bench catching a glimpse of red among the ravenclaw students. instead tripping on the stone of the bench and face planting into the freshly cut grass.

you felt a soreness at the fronts of your calves and an immense discomfort on your face. you grimaced while rubbing your knees trying to soothe the random shoot of exertion through your veins to the point where you almost had the urge to groan.

james quickly scrambled to his feet trying to brush out his hair that had sprinkles of green all over the front, you completely ignored the fact that james’ fall broken by the stone of the bench had caused you to have a twinge of pain into your system.

“none of you saw that.” he panted with slight embarrassment, directing his message to sirius who had his hand clenched into a fist over his lips attempting to cover up the small chortles that were threatening to escape his lips.

“don’t worry, we saw nothing.” you confirmed with an amused grin, putting your two fingers over your lips like a seal.

he grinned back at you twice as hard, your heart starting more of an upbeat frequency that you started to notice as he sat beside you moving a piece that could ruin remus’ chance at winning.

“you slimy git! you’re helping her cheat, you little slag!” remus whined, trying to analyze the board again.

after your recovery, from absolutely nothing. you were sprawled on the scarlet-couch waiting for the rest of your friends to come back from detention. you dazed into a book remus had recently given to you, an icepack laying on your foot as you were almost hypnotized by the pride and prejudice book in your hands.

“oi, m’lady!” sirius abruptly shouted while returning to his common room. you jumped from the stentorian voice, that sunk into the now not-solemn and peaceful common room.

you turned your head seeing the bespectacled boy limp onto the other vermillion couch and rest his leg onto the plush of the pillow, meanwhile, the fawn and dirty blonde haired boys sat in the gryffindor-red love seats tired from their detention.

“what’s wrong with him?” you asked, referring to james’ leg that was propped under the pillow.

“we don’t know, we were walking and he just picked up his foot in agony. who knows maybe lily stubbed her toe.” sirius amused to the rest of the group. but your eyes widened in concern, but you had— there’s absolutely and completely no way. more than one person can stub their toe in one day, not just— just one person.

almost like you were in a daze or hypnotized, as stealth as possible you grabbed the maroon coloured blanket that was rested on the arm rest of the couch you spread it over your legs covering the foot; that you had injured previously that day.

what the fuck. no seriously, what the fuck. there wasn’t— there couldn’t even be— that wouldn’t work. it’s not possible. the butterflies, the flushed face, the nervous ticks— fuck.

over the course of the next few days, you were very careful. you could’ve been mary friggin’ poppins i mean you didn’t want him to get suspicious if you were both injured at the same time. you also did not want to know if he— the boy pining over lily fucking evans since first year was possibly— no there’s no way.

the following week there was a slytherin and gryffindor quidditch game. which also happened to be incredibly nerve wracking not only for you but between both houses, as much as slytherin wanted to seem nonchalant there act was simply not going to work. this determined who would be playing in the quidditch house cup, slytherins also happened to not play the fairest in quidditch so extra gryffindor training was keen.

well now that following week, was today. the game was fine, great even. gryffindor was in the lead and james was about to score a quaffle in the hoop, that was until slytherin beater decided to bat a bludger right into james torso causing him to collapse off his broom twenty five feet into the air with nothing to break his fall. at the reflect of the bludger on james ribs you already groaned hunched over into your seat catches the attention of both peter and sirius.

dumbledore did all the spells he could in such a swiftly manner before james skidded on the muddy grass of the pitch. by then you couldn’t even hold in the moans and groans from his affliction with the hard iron bludger and the fall from the air.

both peter and sirius’ eyes widened and shared a look before taking concern to your arching figure. “m’god i didn’t think it hurt that bad!” you groaned into your hands that could almost be seen as trembling from the agony that you were in as james’ team mates brought him down to the infirmary to check for injuries which he did in-fact have.

after sirius had brought you to your dorm, attempting to do a spell to rid you of most-but not all of your pain he raced to healers wing, seeing james on the verge of unconsciousness as madam pomfrey tried to whip up a potion in a fast manner to heal the boy.

i guess it was true— james was your soulmate. your soulmate in love with another woman that is.

a few hours later james was ordered to stay the night for observation, while both sirius and peter decided to catch up remus along with james up on the other ‘things’ more, or less, that occurred during the quidditch match.

him, and lily.... weren’t soulmates? he thought maybe one day they would’ve ended up together, at some point. not his very best friend being the one he’s ‘destined’ with. but he was desperate to speak with you, how did you know? did you even know? how bad did it hurt? he had so many questions scattered around his brain, until he saw your face that was close to a grimace from pain.

“hi.” you whispered, catching his attention.

“hey.” he whispered back hoarsely, gulping at the sudden tension in the room.

“so we’re—“ “you’re my—“ you both spoke at the same time, following an humourless more-so nervous chuckle, from the both of you.

“how long— did you even know?” james started, looking at your figure as if you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

you sat down nervously, cracking your knuckles as you were unsure where to start. “i thought— i started wondering, that day me and rem were playing chess and you fell.” you cleared your throat while speaking, avoiding eye contact entirely. “my knees started to hurt, but i didn’t even notice it. the day that you came into the common room limping, was when i suspected it.” you wrung your fingers together nervously, then looking into his irises.

“you knew? why didn’t you—“ his anger already starting to get the best of him, you knew that you were his soulmate. you were right in-front of him, but you never told him; he almost felt betrayed.

“i didn’t know! only suspected. but you have to understand, james. you were incessantly pinning after lily, you claimed you were ‘in love with her’. you’re making it seem like it was gonna be so easy for me to tell you that ‘guess what, james! the girl you love actually isn’t your soulmate and it’s your best friend you have no interest in!’ prongs, m’fraud s’not that easy.” you mocked, proving your correct argument to him based on his actions.

he took a shaky breath, analyzing basically his whole life in-front of him. even though he might’ve ‘loved’ lily, you were still more important to him. soulmate or not, he would always go to you first. he could barely stand to fight with you, he couldn’t loose you over some silly crush that he had.

“it doesn’t matter— lily— she doesn’t matter. y/n it’s you, soulmate, not soulmate, who cares! lily or not lily, you’ve always been my go-to, my number one, i mean you’ve always been the most important!” he said drastically while punctuating his words, and flailing his arms in the air to prove his point to you.

you sighed looking at him, almost unsure of his words. he looked at you expectantly before speaking again, “i’ll get on my knees right now and beg to you. with broken— well now bruised but priory broken ribs. not to mention my stubbed toe.” he chuckled at last second trying to humour you.

“oh my g— get up!” you snickered at him, james potter was on his knees fighting all the pride in his system right in-front of you where you were sat. his hands grasped both sides of your thighs trying to soothe you into you forgiving him.

at the sight of him right infront of you, with the best sirius black puppy dog eyes he could muster with a pouted lip you immediately gave in. “fine.” you sighed, “fine, fine, fine.” you giggled.

both of his hands encasing your cheeks, a small pout on your lips. “can i kiss you?” he asked, his elbows resting on your thighs. you looked at him pretending to ponder off in thought; shrugging while you spoke, “hmmm, maybe. i gues—“ he quickly cut you off, kissing your pouted lips in the middle of a sentence.

you kissed back, holding his face between your agile fingers. your right hand resting on his squared jaw and the other in his fluffy and borderline-sweaty hair. your lips slotting together, he could feel the mint taste from the gum you have chewed earlier bleed onto his tastebuds; you on the other hand, not such a memorable taste.

you quickly pulled away, a dramatic whine escaping from his throat. “you remember when you face planted into the dirt earlier?” you giggled while asking him. he looked at you confused; why would... you... be asking if he remembered himself falling?

“erm, yeah i can recall.”

“yeah your mouth tastes like dirt.”

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hhjs · 3 years

Text

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary — Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

You accept it.

For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all.

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour. Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe. While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him.

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell.

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose. You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I��m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night. See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart.

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.” he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

“I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side.

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous.

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it.

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say.

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

—

Kiss underneath a mistletoe.

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right.

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different. Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

—

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh. Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you? "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know. Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

—

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear, "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

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leviaju · 4 years

Text

forgiveness

pairing: belphegor x GN! reader, hints of everyone x reader

words: 8.1k+

genre: angst, fluff at the beginning and a bit at the end if u squint

warnings: mentions of mc and lilith’s death, foul language

preview: “I’m sorry,” He begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. “I know that will never cut it, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.”

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

hey guys what up. so... i’ve done a lot of thinking about belphegor’s dynamic with MC, and, like many others, was really bothered by the sudden switch after... he killed them. u know. typical stuff. i wanted to fill in the gaps!!! if im being completely honest, this has sat in my wips for.... like half a year. it’s my first time writing for obey me, so i hope that everyone’s not too terribly ooc LOL

anyways yeah. i mention how belphegor killed mc a couple of times, so proceed with caution! hopefully, if i get any ideas, the next stuff i write will be a lot lighter. hope you enjoy! (also requests r open soooooooo)

The weight on your chest crushed your rib cage, threatening to snap your bones like they were nothing more than twigs. All you could see was the pitch black of eternal night, and whether your eyes were opened or closed you couldn’t tell. What commanded your attention was the searing pain in your lungs, growing exponentially every half-second, and the unrelenting grip that was slowly shattering your esophagus. No matter how hard you struggled, squirmed and fought against the weight holding your body down, there was no use. It was pointless. The pain spread from the raging fire in your lungs to the tips of your fingertips, and everywhere felt as if you had been set aflame. Slowly, a light illuminated the force keeping you down.

You couldn’t make out much, save for the cackle that rang insufferably through your ears, and the intense eyes that were staring you down.

They held no remorse.

Bones ache as you rest against your bed, finally allowing the tension in your muscles to melt away. You’d never mistake this feeling for regret of a busy day, having spent so much time with the people you care about, but it certainly took its toll on you.

It began with Satan, who’d asked you the night before to accompany him on an early morning walk. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence — he’d invite you to join his morning routine on every day off, and you’d never refuse — hence, at the wonderful time of 7:00am, you were venturing around the Devildom, hand in hand with the Avatar of Wrath. The two of you would walk, occasionally resting on a park bench for longer than either of you would like to admit, for about an hour and a half before you took an official break. The time was filled with pleasant chatter and comfortable silence. Every so often he’d squeeze your hand, and when you’d look over, the fondest of smiles crossed his face. It was a reminder of how glad he was that you joined him.

At around 8:30, he took you into a café for breakfast, and two of you spent only about thirty minutes there chattering away happily. For the most part, he was vividly and excitedly discussing a book he’d just finished the night before…

Until you were interrupted.

“Hello, lovely!” Asmodeus wrapped his arms around you from behind, just before pressing a kiss on your cheek. Satan sighed, resting his head in his hand as he watched the interaction.

“My selfish older brother’s been hogging you all morning, I couldn’t help but want to whisk you away!”

Despite the glare Satan was sending his way, Asmodeus took a seat next to you, happily engaging in conversation as he completely ignored his brother. He told you that the mall was opening in about an hour, and Asmo desperately wished to get his perfectly-manicured hands on a new makeup product being revealed that day.

“But of course I can’t go alone! How positively dreary that would be.” His fingers twined with yours as he looked at you hopefully, and you ran your thumb across his hand. A sheepish smile crept its way onto your lips, and you looked over at Satan. He simply nodded, flicking his hand as a gesture for you two to leave, and Asmodeus didn’t hesitate. He was quick to stand and pull you with them, holding tight to you as he whisked you away. You called out to Satan, now alone at the table with a reluctant smile on his face as he waved goodbye.

“Thanks for breakfast! Get home safe!”

You almost missed the chuckle that left his lips, the café door closing behind you.

Asmodeus kept you until noon. He got a hold of the lipstick he wanted almost right away, but insisted on buying an outfit to match the colour. Regardless of what you’d initially thought, the outfit wasn’t for him.

“Oh, we’ll look positively stunning together!” He exclaimed after about two hours of forcing you in and out of changing rooms, putting his hands all over you to “adjust the clothing” as he deemed necessary. Near the end, you could feel soreness deep in your muscles creeping in from such an active morning, but Asmodeus’ cheery face and constant flirtations helped you forget about it almost completely.

It wasn’t until you got home that you truly felt the effects of on-and-off walking since early in the morning. Be that as it may, your stomach was growling, loudly reminding you that it was now past lunch. As much as you wished to give up on food for the time being and instead head to your room to collapse, the pain in your belly was enough to urge you to cease any arguments, instead ready to try and ignore the ache in your bones in order to quell the angry rumbling of your stomach.

Unfortunately, when you finally made it to the kitchen, there was no food prepared. Instead, what you found was a dejected Beelzebub, frowning softly as he once again was at the receiving end of a lecture from the eldest of his brothers. As quiet as possible, you snuck into the kitchen, trying to listen in on their conversation.

There was silence, followed by a sigh.

“It’s easier to simply ask what’s going on as opposed to trying to eavesdrop, MC.”

You jumped, then bashfully made your way into the kitchen, a sheepish grin on your face. Lucifer was rubbing his temple.

“Beelzebub was supposed to be on lunch duty, but ended up ‘taste-testing’ to the extent that he ate it all. Again.” Lucifer sighed. The typically perfect eldest brother was being run ragged, if the bags forming under his eyes told you anything. “So, instead of working on the papers I have to get finished for tonight, I’m stuck making lunch while he cleans up.”

Beelzebub’s frown tugged at your heartstrings, and in spite of the exhaustion clawing relentlessly at your bones, you relented.

“Why don’t I help? Four hands are better than two,” you proposed, and a small smile graced Lucifer’s face. He lifted his hand to brush the disheveled black hair out of his face, and your chest ached just a bit at the sight. You made a mental note to drag him to bed for a nap the next time you saw him like this.

“That would be more than welcome. Please, if you may.” Already you turned to start working, but Lucifer’s voice made you pause.

“But no feeding Beel. He’s eaten more than his fill already, he can wait until we’re all done.”

Needless to say, every so often you’d slip Beelzebub a piece of chopped vegetable or cooked meat, and he’d very happily (but quietly!) munch away, his expression radiating warmth and joy. And Lucifer, who seemed to almost be omniscient at times, never once mentioned it. Once the three of you were done cooking, Lucifer placed his hand on your head, patting you gently.

“Good work, MC. I must leave now, but I trust that the two of you will be able to clean everything up. Your help was much appreciated. You will be paid back in kind for all of your hard work.”

If nothing else, the slight blush on Lucifer’s face as he ever-so-gently pressed his lips to the crown of your head was more than enough payment.

“Thank you.” Beelzebub cleared his throat, washing the dishes as you dried them. “I… Thanks for helping. And feeding me.”

His smile warmed your heart, and you nodded, bumping your arm with his gently. The small bit of pink that dusted his cheeks compelled you to coddle him, but you resisted the urge. Barely.

“Anytime, big guy.”

After you ate lunch, the only thought in your mind was the prospect of curling up under your covers and passing out. The fretful, broken sleep the night before wasn’t helping at all in keeping you awake, and that on top of the rest of the day’s events had you yearning for the feeling of your pillows.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t even made it through the door when your phone began to blow up, one notification after the other in quick succession.

GGKKJFLFJG

CMOE QUIC K

PLS

SUPE R RARE EVENT IN MONONONOKE

PELASE

YOU HVE TO BE PARTNERED WIHT SOMEONE TO GTE THE PRIZE

PL E A S E

HURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHHHUUURRRRRYYYYYYYYYYY

You found yourself in Leviathan’s room, sat in his lap as he explained the event to you. Your half-asleep brain did its best to keep up with his quick speech, but that, along with the warmth of his chest against your back, became the most soothing lullaby.

“Hey! Normie! I agreed to let you sit here so I could easily help you through the event, but if you’re going to fall asleep on me, I’m pushing you off—“

“I’m awake! I’m awake.

...Now, what was I supposed to do?”

The unintentional giggle that escaped your lips at his expression caused Leviathan to huff, exasperated, despite the flush of his face. Diligently, however, he thoroughly explained the event, for the second time, and the method to obtain the rare prize: a level 2000 I’m Going To Murder You So Hard That You’ll Come Back To Life Just To Die Again Death Sycthe, the strongest weapon ever released in the game. It was a partner event, which explained Leviathan’s desperate and urgent request for aid. You didn’t mind though. While yes, you’d probably never be able to get to his level of gamer, you were more than happy to go along for the ride. It made him happy!

Leviathan rested his chin against your shoulder as he played on his phone, focused to such a degree that the usually easy-to-fluster demon was completely unphased by your proximity. Your phone, set to AutoFight, rested untouched near Leviathan’s leg, abandoned on the floor. You watched him expertly take out enemies that would have one-hit KO’d you through heavy eyelids, and every time he beat a wave of enemies, his attention would momentarily avert from the screen, looking at you from the corner of his eye expectantly. A kiss on his cheek was more than enough to motivate him to continue on, albeit with a pink glow on his cheeks until his attention was once again completely wrapped up in the game at his fingertips.

“Levi! I said open up, goddamnit!”

The pounding against the door was enough to distract Leviathan from his game, subsequently killing his character in the process. He groaned, cursing the demon who interrupted the two of you as he gently lifted you off of his lap, before getting up to open the door.

“The hell do you want?!”

To be completely honest, you were so wrapped up in watching Leviathan play his games that you had forgotten about your weekly movie night with Mammon, who had come over to his younger brother’s room to drag your ungrateful ass back to your own. Leviathan had cleared the event in Mononoke Land hours ago, but not wanting you to leave just yet, invited you to keep watching him play. Setting aside how tired you were, how could you say no? You’d wanted to spend time with him, too.

Unfortunately, you lost track of time, and your phone, battery completely drained from the event, rested uselessly in your pocket. A consequence of this happened to be missing the countless messages and calls Mammon had sent your way, before he began his hunt for you throughout the house. The last place he checked was, of course, Leviathan’s room.

“Come on, human, I ain’t got all day. No one keeps the Great Mammon waiting!”

“Except for MC,” you heard Leviathan mumble under his breath, and a laugh escaped you before you had the chance to slap a hand over your mouth. Mammon flushed deeply, before striding into his brother’s room.

“Hey, wait, you moron! I never said—!”

The force of Mammon throwing you over your shoulder wasn’t enough to hurt, but it certainly was enough to leave you breathless for a moment. “Let’s go, fragile human. I picked the perfect movie already.” Mammon’s words came out in a bashful mumble, but he had enough courage to lift his head and smirk at Leviathan as he carried you out of the room. All you could do was smile apologetically at the blue haired demon before Mammon turned, bringing you out of sight.

Mammon was all complaints as he carried you to your bedroom, but you knew it came from a place of love. Even though he’d never admit it, you could tell he was hurt by you unintentionally ignoring him. Because of this, instead of demanding he let you down, you allowed him to hold you like this, not a single complaint leaving your lips.

When he brought you to your room, you were set on the bed you’d missed dearly and he went to put the movie in the player.

“Hey! No sleepin’ on me, alright? I wanna watch the movie with ya, and I can’t if you’re passed out, now can I?”

And so here you are now, bed frame creaking as Mammon climbs onto the mattress. Rubbing your eyes, you nod, and lean into him once he gets close enough for you to.

“Seriously, I’m gonna hafta have a serious talk with Levi,” Mammon grumbles, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you in so that you’re almost in his lap. He pulls the blankets over the two of you as you rest your head on his chest, and hum quietly in return. “He used up all your energy, and now we won’t be able to get to enjoy the movie as much! Honestly…”

The vibrations of Mammon’s words can be felt through his chest, and you simply cuddle into him more and try to train your bleary eyes on the television screen. The Avatar of Greed shuts up completely when you take his hand in yours and press a gentle kiss to it, before doing your best to focus on the movie. As time passes, however, the idea of giving into your whims grows more than tempting, and oh-so-easy for you to do.

“Hey! Yo, MC! Seriously… You’re hopeless.”

A chiding, yet gentle voice draws you from the confines of rest. You puff air from your nose in response, cuddling closer to whatever it was that had been so comfortable in the first place.

“MC… Come on. Ya gotta wake up, ya didn’t even watch any of the movie! It was really good, y’know.”

Mammon’s hand rubs circles on your back as you mumble incoherently, a noise to acknowledge the fact that he‘s been talking, and that you are indeed awake now.

It takes a good amount of time, as well as some gentle encouragement from Mammon, to get you to finally open your heavy eyes, and even longer for you to be able to apologize to him for missing out on the movie he was so excited to watch. He pouts a bit, but the blush on the highs of his cheeks lets you know that he didn’t mind all that much. You smile and yawn, and his chuckle resonates in your ears.

“I gotta go now, otherwise Lucifer’s gonna kill me for staying so late. Sorry I woke ya up, but ya look so tired now that you’ll probably fall back asleep right away.”

And so, after a quick goodbye and a kiss on the cheek (which made Mammon turn the prettiest shade of red), you close your door and… sigh. If you had been able to stay asleep, the fact that you aren’t in pajamas and haven't brushed your teeth wouldn't be that much of an issue. Now that you‘re slightly more conscious, however, it’s hard to convince yourself to simply climb back into bed. Your breath is bugging you a bit, and the jeans you’re wearing certainly aren’t at all as comfortable as your pajama pants. For that reason, to your own dismay, you begin getting ready for bed — properly this time.

A small “finally…” tumbles from your lips after you finish your nighttime routine. Lacking any form of grace, you plop into bed once more and pull the blankets to your chin, nuzzling into the pillow. Your bed still smells like Mammon’s cologne, and you hum softly to yourself before closing your eyes and waiting for sleep to take over once more, and hold you hostage until late in the morning.

Alas, sleep seemed to be evading you now, similar to how you had ignored it during the day. The mattress you lay on simply isn't comfortable anymore, and the blankets that hug your body cause you to overheat. Unfortunately, if even one limb is out of the blanket, you get so cold you start shivering. None of your typical sleeping positions are anywhere near as effective as they typically are, and you’re left to wrestle with sleep alone, hoping to beat it into submission so you can finally get some proper rest.

After about 45 minutes of tossing and turning with no results, you finally relent. The nap you’d taken while watching the movie royally fucked you over, and you groan. Eventually you decide to give up on trying to fall back asleep, and huff as you sit properly on your bed.

Blanket dragging behind you as it drapes from your shoulders, you slowly make your way through the silent hallways of the House of Lamentation. The only sounds floating through the walls were the light buzz of electricity running through the wiring of the house, and your own footsteps as you began walking up one of the many staircases in the large building.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been walking, the passage of time different at night to a hazy mind, but eventually you arrive at your favourite area in the house, second only to your lush bedroom. There are no artificial lights, only the gentle cast of the night sky providing the ideas of shape in the planetarium. You’ve never seen stars so vibrant and bright, and there are so many more in the Devildom than anywhere you could go back home. Even though the only light comes from the stars, it’s enough to create soft, fuzzy edges around everything in the room; this includes the bundle of various blankets mussed in the centre of the floor. Slowly, cautiously, you make your way towards the pile.

Since you’d arrived in the Devildom, the planetarium at the top of the House of Lamentation became your safe haven. Your room, without a lock on the door, was way too easy for intruding demons to enter without permission, and on nights when everything became too much for you to handle, you’d head up to the planetarium to clear your mind. There’s just something so calming about a starry sky on a clear night that releases you of your fears and anxiety, and helps you get a grip on the situation around you.

After freeing a certain someone from their attic-based captivity, however, you learned that the planetarium was a place favored not only by you. Since he’d been freed, you’d been kind, but there were still fears plaguing your mind, reminding you of everything that has transpired between the two of you. It’s something that you can’t escape, following you even - especially - in your sleep, when you wished you’d be the most at peace. It makes sense, considering the sin he embodies, but you wish it wasn’t like that nonetheless.

Once you’d learned that this was one of his favourite rooms in the house, especially on nights when he can’t fall asleep, you found yourself avoiding this area. It’s not that you hate him; it’s the opposite, really. Nevertheless, you can’t help but feel the tightening of his fingers around your neck, and the burning sensation in your lungs that’s screaming for oxygen, and the desperation to alleviate the seer of deprivation.

Still, you trek on. Closer and closer to the pile of blankets, your gut cries to you to run away. You ignore it. The nearer you get to the nest of blankets, the faster your heart beats, the more lightheaded you feel. But you continue.

Eventually you get close enough to make out the shape of a familiar pillow, the cow print on the case worn and well-loved. From the moment you walked in the room, you knew he was here. All the same, you walk on, and the only sounds in the room are the gentle taps of your clothed feet against the tile, and the quiet noises of your quickened breaths.

You’ve avoided being alone with him since… Since you… Since the event. Your heart screamed at you to forgive him, to love him just as much as you love his brothers. That said, there’s nothing in you that can stop your stomach from churning whenever he gets too close.

Butterflies beat aggressively within your heart and stomach, and it’s years before you get within his range of sight, but you sit down on the floor, holding the blanket tight to your body.

There’s one beat,

two beats,

three beats of silence before you can hear him sucking in a breath through his teeth. In your peripheral you can see his lips parting, closing, parting again as he tries to find the words. He heard you walk in, and was pleasantly surprised when you didn’t immediately bolt in the opposite direction. However, this proximity leaves him with an entirely new predicament. He wants to talk to you, he wants to laugh and joke with you the way his brothers do, but one look at your face and he notices the dark bags under your eyes, and the frown that tugs at your lips as you stare up at the stars. He can hear your heart racing, and feel his own in the tips of his fingers. He opens his mouth again, but the crack in his voice betrays his usual collected personality.

“I’ll go,” Belphegor begins, begrudgingly starting to gather his blankets. His body freezes when his eyes pass over your figure and you’re looking right at him, through him, and he swears he can feel the blood in his veins stop pumping. Your expression is unreadable, almost scary, and he’s never in his life been in fear of a human until this moment.

The seconds pass as years do, both of your bodies chilled to the bone but neither of you able to look away. In the end, the one who casts their gaze somewhere else is you, and he exhales loudly.

“Don’t.”

Your reply is simple, but he’s stuck in place. Slowly, he nods, sitting down again the way he had been prior, and pulling his beloved pillow close to his chest. He can’t breathe, the tension suffocating. It doesn’t help that now you refuse to look at him.

“... If you want,” he replies dumbly, staring at the floor. He feels trapped in place, afraid to move and scare you off. Despite every nerve in his body screaming at him to leave you be, he stays. You told him to, after all. Slowly, you sit down, his blankets creating a low wall between the two of you.

It’s only now that he gets a good look at you. You're tired, he knows, watching as your eyelids droop and your lazy movements when you get more comfortable under your blanket, but there’s more to it than just that. You seem so fragile, like sugar glass, breaking with even the slightest amount of pressure. He feels he can reach over and shatter you with the gentlest of touches, and that thought alone roots him in place. Since you came back, he’s never seen you without a smile. Your genuine smile was the prettiest, he decided rather early on, one that lights up your face and brightens those around you. Belphegor really, truly loves your smile.

He knows there was a point in time, not long ago, where he could have made it so no one saw it ever again. He can’t help but be grateful he didn’t succeed when he sees you smiling at his brothers.

That’s never the smile you show him though. It’s not for lack of effort; you certainly try, and he loves you for that. But the smile you show him is always plastered on, and he knows you’re doing it for his sake. With Belphegor, your smile never reaches your eyes. Be that as it may, you’re never weak around him. Fake smiles prove exactly how strong you really are, but your heart races every time he enters the room. As much as he wishes your palpitations are out of excitement, he knows better than to give himself false hope.

That’s why he’s so taken aback when he looks you over and you seem so vulnerable. Never, not in a million years, would he ever let himself believe that you’d allow yourself to look weak in front of him, not after what he did. Even so, here you are, shaking, knees drawn into your chest, and his heart soars because you’re showing him a new side to yourself. It aches at the knowledge that you’re feeling so vulnerable because of him.

His eyes burn holes in the side of your head. You know he’s watching you, studying you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Not when the hands he uses to pull the blankets over his body are the exact same ones that led you to your untimely and violent demise, and not when every time you look at his face, you can also see Mammon’s above you, sobbing as he tries to will you not to fade away into nothingness.

There’s no putting it nicely. You were murdered, and Belphegor was the one who killed you. As much as he tries to pretend it never happened, to act around you the same as his older brothers do, you would never forget. Neither would he, regardless of the effort he puts into pushing the memory out of his mind. His chosen way of coping was to laugh with you, to get close and have you forgive him without acknowledging the situation. It was too painful to talk about, after all. He willingly, happily snuffed out the life of someone his brothers love, and someone he’d find himself loving too. You became someone who changed him, helped him grow and be better. It was easier, simpler to act as if you’d met him the same way you’d met any of his brothers.

Belphegor killed one of the last remaining parts of his past, a part that, while once warm and light, mutated and infected him, causing his anger to grow out of control, like a weed that suffocates any flower that tries to flourish. He killed a descendant of his sister, and the fact that you’re here now is more of a second chance than he thinks he could ever deserve in all his millenia of living.

And yet, here you are. Scared and shaking, but here. The silence has stretched on for longer than he’d like; he wants to be able to love you, openly and happily, but knows it won’t happen. It can’t, unless he does what he thought was the very last thing he’d do.

“I’m sorry,” Belphegor begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. He can hear your heartbeat pick up, and he curses himself mentally. Your lip between your teeth, you remain silent. His nerves force him to speak more.

“I know that will never cut, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.”

There’s more silence. He feels like he can’t breathe, the tense atmosphere forcing its way around his throat and tightening its grip. He doesn’t know how long it takes you to even contemplate replying, let alone allow yourself to respond. Belphegor’s ears ring almost deafeningly loud. He can’t take it.

“You’re right.”

His eyes, which he trained to the ground, dart up to your profile once more. You pause, wetting your lips.

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

There’s not enough time to process your words before he really, really looks at you. Almost fearlessly, you meet his eyes.

Almost fearlessly.

The shaking of your hands betrays the strength of your voice. Belphegor’s chest aches.

“But…”

There’s a pause as you speak. He can’t look away again, even as your eyes meet the stars once more. There’s no chance he’ll miss a word you say, even if it tears him apart.

“It’s… it’s really difficult. I know you know that, but…”

Each time you pause, Belphegor’s mind begins storming. He can’t figure out what you’re going to say, or how you’re going to react, and it drives him crazy. He’s usually so good at reading people, but you’re an enigma. It sends a chill down his spine.

His throat is caught. Even if he had words to say, they wouldn’t be able to come out. So he sits in silence as you find your own.

“I don’t want you to feel worse than you do.” You lick your lips. “Or maybe I do? I… I really don’t know. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about you, Belphie.”

The nickname tugs at his heart, more than he could ever admit. He wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to do anything other than look at your melancholy face, knowing he’s the problem. He wants to run and hide, to sleep forever. He can’t, though. Not when you’re here. Not now.

Knuckles turn white as he clutches desperately onto his pillow. His breath shakes as he draws in air.

“I want to love you. I want to love you as much as I love your brothers, and care about you as much as I care for them…”

You struggle to find the words.

“... But it’s hard.”

You curse your lack of eloquence. Now, of all times, when your words are the only thing that enable you to communicate how you truly feel, they fail you. This might be your only chance to ever properly show Belphegor how you feel, what makes you so conflicted every time he walks into the room with a smile on his face, and yet all you can say is “it’s hard”. Obviously.

A breath finds its way into your lungs, and the sound of your lips parting in the otherwise silent planetarium echoes in your ears.

You continue.

“It’s hard because every time I see your face, or I hear your voice, or I-”, you falter, heart catching in your throat, “or you touch me, I can’t help but be reminded of what happened.”

Belphegor doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from your form. The grief that settles into his face perfectly matches your own, eyebrows upturned and bottom lip quivering just the slightest bit. Even the trembling of your hands is replicated in his own. He’s never seen you like this, so incredibly vulnerable, and it tears him apart inside to know that he is the cause of it.

A shuddery breath comes from Belphegor, and you fight your instincts to check if he’s okay. You know he isn’t.

The silence deafens you, thundering in your ears so harshly that you're tempted to place your hands at the side of your head to muffle how quiet it is. You don’t, however, and whether it’s because you don’t want to look crazy, or because you’re afraid you might shatter if you move, you’ll never know. Do you want him to talk? Do you want him to say anything? Do you want an apology?

If you had an answer for that, you’re sure that things would have patched themselves up much quicker than this. You caution a glance at Belphegor, and the weight pressing down on your chest gets heavier at his expression. It feels almost as if you can inhale the guilt he feels, the emotion radiating off of him in waves.

“I… Logically, Belphie, I get it.” Again with that cursed nickname. Usually, hearing it from your lips makes Belphegor feel warm and goddamn near giddy, but now it only seemed to drive the knife in his gut further.

“I understand what happened and why you did it. I may not agree… but I get it, you know?” You swallow.

“In the end, I’m still here. And… and I’ve come to learn that you’re nothing like that anymore. You’ve grown, and changed, and the guilt and anger that consumed you took control, and that's why you-- that’s--”

You pause, clutching the blanket around you to try and ground yourself. The shakiness in your voice is not missed by Belphegor, and even if it had been, there’s no way he’d be able to ignore the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. Slowly, subconsciously, one of your hands comes up to rest against your neck, a phantom of the grasp that once threatened to crush you.

“S-So… I understand why you did it. And I’m alive, and we’re friends, so it should all be okay, right?” Belphegor casts his glance away.

“But Belphie… as much as I want to forgive you, I also know that I’m never going to be able to forget what happened. It’s there in my dreams, and it’s there in your smile, and it’s there every single time your arm brushes mine and I flinch like a total loser.”

A weak chuckle makes its way out of your chest, and the halfhearted smile that follows forces a tear from your eye. You’re quick to wipe it away, hopefully quick enough so that it goes unnoticed by Belphegor.

It does.

What he does notice, however, is the frustration that holds tight to the edges of your sentences. The frustration is not directed at him, no. You would be yelling if that were the case, and maybe that would be easier for him to hear. No, this frustration is directed at yourself. You’ve been trying so hard, and all Belphegor has been doing is running away. His teeth dig so hard into his bottom lip, trying desperately not to show any anger he feels at himself, that he tastes iron.

“And then we became all buddy-buddy, you know? Like I was never lied to, or used, or manipulated, or-- or--”

Belphegor is torn from his self-pity when you continue, and he almost wishes you’d stop speaking. The thought that you might break him with your words has him shaking, and a feeling similar to fear courses heavily through his veins. Please, stop. He wants to go back to running away.

But you continue, as you always have.

“And I’m left not knowing how to feel. I’m so mad at myself for being such a coward and not being able to just get over it like everyone else, and I’m so fucking pissed that I can’t just exist around you like I do for everyone else. I mean, I used to be terrified of Lucifer, too.” Another fragile laugh, and you sweep the hair from your eyes with a shaky hand. Belphegor swallows hard.

“But I… I can’t pretend like nothing happened. As much as I want to be near you, and hug you, and take naps and play pranks on Luci with you… I can’t. I can’t act as if what I feel isn’t real, and what you did didn’t happen. It’s so hard, Belphegor.” You sigh, and finally look at him once more. He can’t meet your gaze, slumped over himself and hugging his pillow so tight to his chest it seems as if he wishes to disappear into it. “Especially because I really, truly want to understand why everyone loves you so much. And I want to love you, too. I want to know why Beel smiles every time you’re brought up in conversation, and I want to smile just the same. But… But right now, I can’t.”

Talking has gotten easier. The words that used to escape you have become accustomed to being used again, and confidence has restored in your gut. You sit a bit straighter as you watch Belphegor carefully, a sad smile lifting your cheeks.

Belphegor knows that this is when he should swoop in, say something so intellectual that you’re caught off guard, and he can save you from… himself. This knowledge does nothing to save him from himself. He can’t even open his mouth to mime a sentence, let alone actually speak. The thought of how pathetic he must look settles under Belphegor’s skin, and he can feel his irritation rising. Not at you though, never at you. Not even when… When it all happened. His anger was misplaced, but he has never been angry at you.

Finally, when the quiet becomes too much, he forces himself to meet your gaze. The way you look at him, just as vulnerable and bare and scared as he is… he feels safe. He knows, even though your words sear his heart, that you never mean to hurt him, especially now. You’re being honest, and simply expect the same from him.

Belphegor inhales a deep breath, before willing himself to speak.

“I thought--” he croaks, and quickly clears his throat. Fuck. “I thought that if… if I could pretend that nothing happened, then I wouldn’t have to face any consequences.”

He curses audibly. Just how pathetic can he sound? Belphegor’s voice is hoarse and quivering, and weak. “Weak” is never a word that he would have used to describe himself, but now it echoes hauntingly against the confines of his skull. One of the most powerful demons in existence, and he finds himself quaking before a mere human. He cares for you, though, and he cares for you viciously. Something in Belphegor knows that he’s never going to be able to prove that to you unless he pushes his way through this.

So he forces himself to continue, even with every cell in his body desperately screaming at him to stop.

“I did what I did out of a place of guilt… and regret. I couldn’t stand the fact that it was because of me, that it was my fault, that I’m the reason that Lilith--”

Belphegor stumbles over his own words, and he sets down his pillow before he accidentally tears a hole through it. Instead he braces himself on the cool floor, in need of something steady to hold onto. This whole conversation shook him to the core. He can hardly believe he’s talking about his sister. She’s a topic that he’s avoided even around Beelzebub…

But if Belphegor ever wants even the possibility that you’ll forgive him, he knows he has to. Everything is on the line. His blunt nails press against the tiles and he focuses on steadying his voice.

“I couldn’t accept that it was my fault.” A newfound steadiness weaves its way around his words, and he finds himself sitting a bit straighter. “I’m the one who introduced her to the human world, and kept bringing her back. I’m the reason she suffered, and why the war started, and why we fell, and why she…” Belphegor coughs. “In the end, I couldn’t accept that I’m the one who killed her.

Your heart yearns to tell him that no, he’s wrong, it’s not all his fault. You know it won’t help right now, though, and that it isn’t your time to speak. Settling back a bit, you let your blanket fall from your shoulders.

Belphegor’s heart stutters, and pounds so hard that he feels like it's trying to tear through his chest. Even so, he doesn’t miss the way your hand reaches out to smooth over his own, and for a moment he feels himself wanting to melt just from the simple touch.

Belphegor pulls away. He doesn’t deserve your comfort, not yet.

“So… So when you said that you’re a descendant of Lilith, I-- I couldn’t help myself. I jumped at the chance to get to know you, learn about what makes you similar and what makes you different. Her blood flows through your veins, and I was quick to ignore what I did in favour of getting to know you, and… and inevitably, becoming just as fond of you as my brothers… but that can’t erase what I did.”

The feeling of understanding floods you and you find yourself nodding at his words. To be completely honest, even now, you’re scared. Your heart beats for many reasons, fear one of them, but you don’t run away. Not anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to even if you wanted to.

Your hand, abandoned next to Belphegor’s, lay dormant. The need to comfort wills you to once again place your hand on his, but you don’t move. When he’s ready, if he ever is, you’ll be there.

Just as he’ll be there for you.

“I killed you, MC. And in doing that, I killed Lilith. Again.”

Countless emotions storm their way through Belphegor’s conscience, despair clawing at his throat, regret snapping his back, and guilt slowly crushing him under its weight. How is it that one can feel so empty, and yet so filled to the brim with misery?

“And not only that, but if I succeeded… I would have completely missed out on getting to know you, and caring about you as much as I do now. It would have been a loss that I never would have understood, but know for a fact that I would have felt. Even… Even when I was proud,” he spits out the word as if it’s poison, “of what I’d done, watching my brothers’ hearts break at the sight of your body… Even then, I felt it. The ache. It’s so fucking stupid.”

His tone, now bubbling with anger, stills you. It’s not directed at you, and you know this, but despite yourself, you freeze. Belphegor notices, and quickly clears his throat, relaxing his shoulders. He allows your heart a moment to slow as he regains his composure, and you find yourself breathing again.

“I know that me saying sorry is never going to cut it.” Belphegor turns his body to fully face you. He’s no longer running from his feelings, or from you. He knows he can’t anymore. Hesitantly, he lifts his trembling hand to place over yours. The muscles in your fingers tense, and he pauses to gauge your reaction. When you slowly nod your head once, he delicately places his hand on yours, using his thumb to gently begin massaging the tension away. “And I know that even if I do everything right from here on out, that there’s a chance that you won’t ever forgive me. And I understand why.”

Your heart sinks at his expression, his gaze locked on your joined hands. As aloof as he normally is, you can see none of that on his face now. When you turn over your hand he quickly pulls away, but your shaky movements to bring his hand back and intertwine your fingers urges him to go on.

“But I want to try. And really try this time. I want you to be honest with how you feel, whether I’m frustrating you or scaring you or anything like that, and… and I want to be honest with you too. I…”

Belphegor trails off, but you squeeze his hand. He draws in a slow breath.

“No matter what happens, no matter how you feel, we’re stuck together for the next few months. I want to spend that time getting to know you, and I want us to be as close as you are with any of my brothers… but I also want you to know that you shouldn’t feel forced. If it’s ever too much, I need you to tell me, and I promise I’ll back off.”

The smallest of smiles makes its way onto your face as you quietly agree. Belphegor doesn’t allow himself to try and figure out if it's genuine, out of pity, or sadness, but in spite of everything, it makes him feel a bit lighter. Just a bit.

“This won’t fix everything right away,” you say, and he now knows that your smile is a combination of the three. Along with this, though, Belphegor also knows the small sparkle in your eyes is hope, and he’s willing to take that hope and nurture it for however long he must.

“I know,” he sighs, but even he can feel the small tilt of a smile on his face, “but I’m willing to take as much time as you need to decide how you feel about me. And… And if you decide you hate me, which is fair, and that you never want to even be in the same room as me, I’ll respect your wishes.

Until then...Until you decide that you really, truly hate me, I won’t stop trying.”

There’s no way of telling how long his words linger in the air around the two of you, circling around your heads and making their way through your body. Even so, Belphegor diligently watches you, wanting to make sure he’s not overstepping his bounds. He even contemplates letting go of you, but is reassured when slowly, almost unnoticeably, you begin smoothing out the lines on the back of his hand with your thumb.

As much as you want to tell him that you could never hate him, you also know you can’t promise anything. Still, for now, just as much as him, you’re willing to try. You stay in silence, more comfortable than you’ve ever been in his presence, gently caressing the hand held in your own.

Eventually, Belphegor clears his throat once more. The vulnerability has made him tense and rendered his voice weak.

“Can… can you hug me?” He all but whispers, fragility making his body quiver once more. He was completely open about his feelings for the first time in a lifetime, and the intensity of it left him craving affection. He knows how unfair this is to you, but he can’t help himself. He wishes to be held, for his fears to be quelled by someone so much stronger than him. “If you don’t want to,” he falters, speaking quickly, insecurely, “I won't even touch you. I-If you do, I promise I can keep my hands behind my back, and I won’t even--”

His words end abruptly as he feels you release his hand, and his heart sinks. He debates running away again, until he hears you moving towards him, and he finds he’s frozen in place. Slowly, but surely, with more courage circulating through your veins than you’ve had all night, you make your way over the blankets that divide you and position yourself right next to Belphegor, pulling him into your chest. Even now, he can feel how quickly, persistently your heart races, and yet you stay. True to his word, Belphegor rests his hands on the ground behind his back, but he doesn’t stop himself from nuzzling into your chest… and he cries. The complete, uninhibited release of his emotions hit him like a truck, and he sobs heavily into you, tears slowly but surely staining your shirt. You adjust yourself so you can hold him closer, slowly and reassuringly rubbing his back as he lets go of everything he’s been holding on to for longer than you can even imagine. This is a man who’s run from his emotions for centuries, and the fact that he’s willing to face them for your sake comforts you, cradles your heart and presses gentle kisses against the cracks. You know that you’re not going to wake up tomorrow with everything okay, but for now… for now you’re comfortable with his touch. Heaving in a deep, steadying breath, you reach down just enough to take Belphegor’s arms, and guide them to rest his hands on your hips. At this silent permission, he slowly, delicately wraps his arms around your waist, despite craving your body closer, wanting to hold you tight and never let go. He cradles you like you’re made of the most brittle glass, and you smile. The gesture touches your heart, and… and you feel safe. You know that all he wants to do is embrace you as tight as he can, but he doesn’t, even with permission.

Here, in Belphegor’s arms, you feel safe. Here, where Belphegor’s grip on you is so gentle that it wouldn’t even crumple paper, you feel loved. As he cries into your chest, holding you as if you were an antique, hope slowly fills your heart.

Everything is far from perfect, but it’s still on the right track, here in the quiet planetarium.

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viking-raider · 3 years

Text

The Belle and the Bane - Chapter II

Summary: Living with the Bane is turbulent, at best. But, you do your best to weather the storm of his moods.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,916

Warnings: PG-13 - Fantasy!AU, Dark!AU, Bane!Henry, Dark!Henry, Belle!Reader, Healer!Reader, Curses, Language, Angst, Light Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Very Minor Character Death, Multiple Personalities(?), Possessive/Controlling Behavior

Inspiration: My warped version of Beauty and the Beast.

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long! Muse was spazzing from this fic to that fic and this idea to that idea. You know how it goes! Forever and always, thank you to the amazing @wondersofdreaming for being my beta, brainstorm partner and encouraging me! Tell me what you think!

You woke that morning with the bright sunlight streaming into your room, as Damien threw the curtains over your windows open, letting the new day stream in, brightening the remaining darkness out of the corners of your room.

“Good morning, Ms.” He grinned at you, standing at the foot of your bed.

“Morning.” You yawned back, sitting up.

“I have breakfast ready for you.” He said, motioning to the table in the corner of your room, by one of the windows. “Also, I have some clothing coming in for you, later this morning. It's not your full wardrobe, but it's a start.” He smiled, sounding happy and chipper.

“Thank you, Damien.” You smiled at him, getting out of bed and pulled on your robe, sitting at the table and looking over your breakfast.

Nodding his head, Damien exited your room and traveled down to Henry's room, finding his master in a similar position you were, but instead of his room being bright with the morning sun, shining off the calm waves of the ocean. Henry's room was nearly pitch black, minus the raging fireplace and a few candles in large candelabras.

“Morning, Sir.” Damien said softly, nodding his head at Henry. “I hope you slept well.”

Henry took a deep breath and rolled his eyes, taking a gulp of his tea. “As usual, Damien.” He sighed. “Other than that girl you went behind my back and allowed here.” He added, with a lifted brow.

“I simply thought that some companionship would do you some good, Henry.” Damien replied, daring to use his master's first name. “Other than myself.” He added, as Henry opened his mouth.

“What companionship can she give me, Damien?” Henry asked, setting his teacup down and rubbed at his tired face. “Other than physical.” He added with a huff.

“Perhaps you should try and find out.” He replied, making Henry's messy bed. “She loves to read! She's almost completely read 'Great Expectations' and she's only been here a day. I know how much you like to read.” He explained, smiling over at him, his eyes glittering.

“I haven't read a book, in a long time.” Henry countered, his blue eyes darkening at his servant.

“Maybe.” Damien grinned, unbothered. “She can read to you.”

“I don't need to be read too. I can read on my own.” He hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I'm not some invalid.” He growled, his body tensing.

“Of course not. It was only a suggestion, she has a sweet voice, was all I meant.” Damien replied, softly. “Give her a week, Henry. If you don't find her presence wanting by then, I'll send her back home to her father.”

The muscles of Henry's jaw flexed as he contained his fluctuating emotions. “Fine.” He huffed, angrily, then winced at the loud sounding of the door bell. “Who could this possibly be!” He barked, looking at Damien.

“I had a bit of a wardrobe made up for her.” Damien replied, finishing Henry's bed. “She only came with what she was wearing, and I'm sure that wouldn't have met your meticulous standards.”

“Spending my money on her, Damien.”

“Would you rather her look a peasant, or be nude?” Damien countered, lifting a brow at Henry.

Henry sighed and rolled his eyes, turning his back on him and staring at the dancing flame of the candle on his table. Damien half smirked at Henry, and left his room, going down the stairs to the third ringing of the door bell, and pulled it open, greeting the visitors. There were two men, holding several boxes, swinging the door open wide, Damien allowed them to enter the castle and showed them up the stairs to your room. You stood as your door opened and Damien entered with the two men, directing them where to put the boxes, then shooed them out.

“Your new clothing.” He grinned at you, pulling open the boxes and removing several articles, laying them out on your bed. “I do hope you like them. I wasn't sure what colors you would like, so I tried to keep them as neutral as possible.” He explained, pulling out more and more things from the boxes.

You stood beside him as he laid them out, surprised by the expensive quality of the fabrics and their current fashion. They were all so beautiful, you had never seen anything like them. Looking them over, you picked out the outfit you wished to wear for the day, and Damien put the rest in the empty walk-in closet. He smiled as he watched you stand in the full length mirror in the corner of the room, looking at yourself from every side and playing with the flow of the fabric of the dress you wore.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented you, standing behind you with a smile.

“Thank you.” You smiled back, your cheeks warm.

Henry groaned, stepping out onto his balcony, needing a breath of fresh air, when he saw a shadow move in the neglected garden below. Frowning, he leaned forward on the oxidized railing of his balcony for a closer look. He saw the shadow again, before you rounded an overgrown hedge, your fingers lightly touching the leaves. He watched you as you explored the ruined garden maze he had played in as a child, with his brothers. Biting his lip, Henry turned and went back into his room, throwing open his bedroom door and storming down the stairs, to the back garden.

“Christ.” You gasped, running straight into Henry, like he was a brick wall. “You nearly scared the life out of me.” You panted.

Henry grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you away from him. “What are you doing out here?” He demanded, glaring down at you.

“Enjoying some fresh air and sunlight.” You replied, staring up at him, your heart pounding. “Is there an issue with that, like wandering around the house at night?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

His hands squeezed your arms, before letting go of you as you gasped, realizing he had been hurting you. “No.” He gulped, relaxing. “But, you do need to be careful, if you turn the wrong direction, you'll end up stepping off the cliff.”

“Why would you design a garden to do that?” You asked, frowning up at him.

“It wasn't.” Henry replied, looking over the cracked and overgrown path you stood on. “There was a very bad storm, several years ago, and part of the cliff gave way, taking the back portion of the garden and a gazebo with it.” He explained to you, brushing his wind blown curls out of his face, then turned away from you, disappearing around a corner.

Blinking a couple of times, you followed after him, turning two corners, before you found him again, standing several feet away from the edge. Henry smiled at you over his shoulder, shocking you with the transformation it gave him, both physically and emotionally, he felt less threatening and harsh. You moved to stand next to him, a rush of strong ocean wind blowing against you so much, you felt the, surprisingly, gentle touch of Henry's hand rest on your back, keeping you steady as you both stood there.

“Damien said you've almost finished reading the Great Expectations.” Henry said, after a long pause of silence.

“I have.” You nodded, biting the corner of your lip. “Charles Dickens is one of my favorite authors.” You confessed to him.

“Mine as well.” Henry chuckled, looking down at you. “I've thoroughly enjoyed 'The Old Curiosity Shop'. I've read it numerous times.” He explained to you, looking out over the ocean. “But, it's been some time since I've read anything, but a financial or business report.”

“Why is that?” You asked, glancing up at him, a soft frown on your face.

“Because, life gets in the way.” He replied, his face hardening. “You should go back inside.” He said, moving his hand from the small of your back to your shoulder; turning you away from the cliff. “It's getting much too cold for you out here.”

“And you?” You replied, lifting a brow at him.

“I'll be fine.” Henry answered, in a short tone. “Go.” He barked, pointing back to the house.

Biting your lip, you nodded your head to him and wound your way back through the garden maze, finding your way back through the open veranda doors. You only whiled away most of the morning, before boredom took you, unaccustomed to just sitting around all day. So, you pulled on a coat and went downstairs, you could hear Henry and Damien's voices through the closed study door as you showed yourself out, going back down to the village to check on your father and see if any of the villagers needed you.

“Where have you gone?” Damien asked, appearing in your doorway as you removed your coat and draped it over the back of a chair. “I came to bring you your lunch, and you were gone.”

“I went down to the village.” You replied, turning to him. “To check on my father, and one of the young wives down there was in the middle of giving birth, so I helped her.” You explained to him, unapologetic for leaving the castle without notice, you weren't their prisoner, and refused to be treated as one.

“Mr. Cavill is quite unhappy about it.” Damien replied, pressing his lips together.

“I'm sure, Mr. Cavill can get over it.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. “He is a grown man, is he not?”

Damien narrowed his eyes at you and took a deep breath. “Well, be it as it may. If you're to leave the castle, please inform me, or I'm bound to worry you've fallen off a cliff or something.”

“I will.” You told him, your voice tight. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“That's a question I should be asking you.” He countered, a soft smirk tugging on his lip.

“No, I don't need anything from you, Damien.” You sighed, you really just wanted to soak in a hot tub of water, your back aching from bending over as you helped birth the young woman's babe into the world.

“There's nothing you can do for me, either.” He replied, nodding his head. “Yet.” He added, softly, turning and showing himself out of your room.

Sighing and rubbing at your face, you turned towards the bathroom door, stripping off your clothing as you went. You melted into the hot water, up to your neck, eyes falling shut as it slowly eased away your aches and pains, taking your worries and stress away with it.

“If I were to be stuck here for the rest of my life, the only thing I would get used to, is this glorious hot water.” You mumbled yourself, drifting off.

You were awoken in the middle of the night, shaken by your shoulders and the frantic calling of your name. You batted your hands at the ones holding and shaking you, whimpering as you were drawn out from your peaceful slumber.

“What?” You rasped, in a sleepy voice. “What!” You barked, jerking up in bed. “Damien, what in the world! You're acting as if the house is on fire.” You sighed, brushing your hair out of your face.

“It's not, is it?” You added, face snapping to your open bedroom door.

“No, no! The house is intact.” He assured you, no less frantic and antsy.

“Then, what is the rush?”

“It's Henry, he's terribly unwell, and you are a healer, are you not?” He asked in a jumble of words.

“I am.” You nodded, frowning and throwing back your blankets. “What is wrong with him?” You asked, getting out of bed and taking your robe as Damien held it out to you.

“I'm unsure, I went to check on him in his study, he always works very late.” He explained, leading the way down the hall. “He was quite pale, and I'm sure he's thrown up in the bin.”

Your frown deepened with every description Damien gave you of Henry's ailment, your brain shuffling through dozens of different possible illnesses based on them. When you and Damien finally reached the ground floor study Henry spent a great deal of his time in, you found him lying on the sofa, an arm slung over his pale and sweaty face. You knelt down on the rug beside him on the sofa, gently resting your hand on his elbow.

“Henry.” You whispered softly.

“What do you want?” Henry growled, but it sounded more like a pained whimper.

“I've asked her to look you over, Sir.” Damien replied, hovering from the other side of the couch, his face creased with concern and worry. “She's a healer down in the village.” He explained, chewing on his lip.

Henry huffed, but didn't remove his arm. You frowned up at Damien, then stood, going around the couch to whisper in his ear.

“Give me a moment with him.” You said and tilted your head towards the door.

Damien looked between Henry on the couch and the study door, but nodded his head and went out, quietly closing the door behind him. Rounding the couch again, you took up the fire poker and pushed the burning logs apart until they were nothing but glowing embers, then brought the burning candlestick on Henry's desk over to the small end table at Henry's feet on the couch, plunging the study into near darkness.

“You can take your arm away from your face now, Henry.” You whispered softly, kneeling back down beside him. “The light shouldn't bother your eyes so much.” You told him, tilting your head at him, having an idea of what was bothering him.

Henry slowly removed his arm from over his face, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the low light. His handsome face was quite pale, his eyes were red and damp, his curls plastered to his sweaty forehead. He carefully turned his head towards you, narrowing his eyes at you.

“How long have you had migraines?” You asked him, lifting a brow at him.

“Since I suffered that illness.” He replied, gulping thickly. “They're crippling.”

“I can see that.” You replied, glancing over at the waste bin by his desk, where he'd thrown up. “Come on.” You sighed, standing up. “Let's get you off to bed. You need to rest.”

“I have work to do.” Henry protested, slowly sitting up.

“It can wait, Mr. Cavill.” You sighed, shaking your head at him. “If you don't rest, you'll end up throwing up more, and probably passing out. Neither is good for your business or your health.” You protested, planting your hands on your hips.

“So, up you go.”

Henry looked up at you, narrowing his eyes at you. Both of you stood there for a long moment, staring each other down, before Henry growled and stood up. Smirking, you moved around the couch, taking up the candlestick and opened his study door. You and Henry went up the stairs to his room, you paused, resting your free hand on his thick arm as he swayed outside his door for a moment. Henry squeezed his throbbing eyes shut, reaching out blindly to open his door.

You set the candlestick aside and guided him to bed, pulling back the blankets and made him sit down, before he fell. Frowning at him, then sighing, you bent down and pulled off his slippers, setting them aside. Henry watched you through half-lidded eyes as you fussed over him, helping him remove his shirt, then piled up his pillows, so he could rest back on them, and covered him with his blankets. Moving away from him, you went into his bathroom, soaking a washcloth in cold water and brought it back to him.

“Put this over your eyes, it'll help some of the discomfort.” You told him, holding the washcloth out to him.

“As you wish.” He smirked, his tone teasing as he pushed his head back and draped the cloth over his eyes with a moan.

“How is your stomach?” You asked him, watching him gulp thickly.

“Like a raging ocean.” He replied, licking his lips and fisting his blankets, then sat up suddenly, his face going pale as a ghost.

You reacted quickly, picking up the bin by his table and thrust it out to him, just in time for him to throw up, wrenching hard. Henry whimpered as the wrenching agitated his throbbing and pulsing skull. He looked so weak and harmless, like a small boy trapped in the body of a man. Sitting on the edge of his bed, you used the damp cloth to wipe at his sweaty face, the scent of vomit was something you had grown used to as a healer. Sighing, you set the now warm cloth on his nightstand, chewing on your bottom lip as you regarded him and thought about something that could relieve the pain of his migraine and the discomfort of his stomach.

“Do you have any willow trees nearby?” You asked, frowning at him, as a solution brewed in your mind.

“Of course, what kind of question is that?” Henry huffed, shaking his head at you, then instantly regretted it. “The whole county is known for them, there's three in the graveyard alone.” He told you, gripping the waste bin, as another wave of nausea hit him.

“Good.” You nodded, getting up. “I'll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Henry demanded, as you rushed out of his room.

“Is Henry all right?” Damien asked, he had been lingering in the hall.

“He's got an acute migraine.” You told him, rushing up to your room to pull on a shawl. “I need to retrieve some things to help lessen his pain and the discomfort of his stomach. But, I'll also need hot water and a tea set.” You told him, pulling on your shawl and grabbed the sharp letter opener on top of your dresser, before running downstairs and out the front door, into the darkness.

You knew where the Bane's family graveyard was, you had to pass the narrow path that led to it on your way up the castle. The air was bitterly cold and windy, pushing off the ocean and mixing with the late autumn night. The spooky shadows of the trees that lined the path to the graveyard were frightening, but you were far too focused to allow yourself to become scared and paranoid about them. It took some doing, in the dark of the quarter moon, but you found one of the willow trees, near an overgrown, dark stone mausoleum, the names of Marianne and Colin Cavill carved on the sealed doors. You removed the sharp letter opener from the inside pocket of your robe and started cutting into the bark of the willow tree, collecting enough to fill one of your robe pockets, then started searching around it roots, running your fingers through the leafy tops of small plants, until you found the second thing you were looking for, mint. You knew you could find it here, it was how the village of Mintwillow had gotten its name, after all.

Pockets full with what you needed, you raced back up to the castle and into Henry's room. Damien had gotten everything you asked for together. You dumped your pockets out on the table beside them and started breaking up the bark into smaller bits with the mint and dumped them into the boiling water of the teapot.

“What is all of that?” Damien asked, looking over your shoulder.

“Willow's bark and mint.” You replied, stirring the concoction. “Do you have any honey?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him. “Willow's bark can be rather bitter, so the sweetness of the honey will help with that, as well as coat his throat, after all the throwing up.”

“Certainly.” He nodded, rushing back down to the kitchen for the honey pot.

“Thank you.” You smiled, pouring some of the tea into a cup, then adding a drizzle of honey into it.

“You can go, Damien.” Henry rasped, his voice now sore from throwing up and wrenching. “I'm sure she can care for me now.” He said, his eyes on you.

Damien looked between you both, then nodded his head, excusing himself. Satisfied with his tea, you carefully brought it to him.

“Sip it slowly.” You told him as he raised it to his lips, then chuckled. “It's not meant to taste good, just to help.”

“It better.” He huffed, taking another sip of it. “Or I'm going to be very angry.”

You smiled at him, unphased by his mood swings. “I've given this tea to many people over the years, and it's never failed me.” You assured him. “But, I should let you rest. Sleep is the third best thing for a migraine like this.” You told him, turning away.

Henry's hand shot out, gripping your wrist and stopping you in your tracks. “Stay.” He said softly, his tired and glassy eyes staring holes into you. “Just for a little while.” He whispered, so quietly, you weren't sure he had said anything.

“Perhaps, you could read to me? It helps me sleep.” He added, glancing at a book sitting on his nightstand.

You swallowed slowly, surprised by his request, as the heat of his hand wrapped around your wrist, pushed out the last of the cold that had settled into you, when you were outside. This was a side of him you hadn’t expected, and you weren’t sure how it made you feel; perhaps conflicted from when you experienced his normally callous mood. Licking your lips, you nodded your head at him and Henry felt relieved that you agreed to stay with him, it gave some deep part of him a great amount of comfort, so he slowly let your wrist go. You grabbed a chair from his table and brought it to the side of his bed, picking up his book and saw it was 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'.

Clearing your throat, you flipped the book open to its marker and started reading at the top of the page. Henry relaxed against his pillows, sipping the rest of the tea you had made him, before setting the empty cup aside and closed his eyes, focusing on the soft and easy rhythm of your voice as you read aloud to him.

Henry woke several long hours later, his head still throbbing, but not as badly as it had been for the last few days. He opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep from them, when he noticed you, book open in your lap, and sound asleep. You had also fallen asleep, while reading to him. Henry smirked and got out of bed, carefully setting the book in your lap aside, and gingerly lifted you into his arms, your head lulling gently against his shoulder as he carried you out of his room.

“Good mo-”

“Sshhh.” Henry shushed Damien, angrily, as he appeared on the stairs. “Don't wake her.” He growled, in an almost protective manner, then tenderly shushed you as you whimpered and shifted restlessly in his arms, hugging you closer to his chest.

“My apologies, sir.” Damien replied demurely, moving out of Henry's way and bowing his head, to hide the smirk on his face as Henry went by.

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Henry carried you up to your own room, pushing the door open with his foot and delicately laid you down, your blankets still thrown back from when Damien woke you up to tend to him. He stood above you for a long moment, after covering you up, watching you snuggle and melt into the mattress and pillows, a faint and sweet smile on your lips. But, he quickly turned away as his heart started to pound and his chest hurt, like he'd been punched by a giant.

Leaving you to sleep in your room, Henry returned to his own and felt his head start to throb again.

You woke just before noon and found yourself back in your own bed, figuring Damien had brought you back to bed. Rising and stretching your stiff body from bending over Henry and sitting in a chair all night, you got out of bed and dressed, just as Damien came in, carrying a tray.

“Oh, you're awake!” He grinned, setting the tray on your table, lunch no doubt, since you had slept through breakfast.

“Yes.” You replied, stifling a yawn into your fist as you sat down at the table. “Thank you for bringing me back to my room.” You added, munching on a bit of your food.

“Oh, I didn't.” Damien replied, making your bed. “Henry did.” He explained, seeing your confused expression.

“Henry did?” You replied, slowly setting your teacup down.

“Yes, you fell asleep, while you tended to him and when he woke this morning, he found you sound asleep on a chair.” He explained, fluffing your pillows. “So, he carried you back up here, to bed.” He said it all, like it was the most normal and natural of things.

“Oh.” You gulped, picking your tea back up and taking a large gulp of it. “Is he any better?” You croaked, keeping your eyes on your food.

“He was quite well, until a few hours ago.” Damien frowned, collecting your dirty clothing. “Seems his headache has re-surged.”

“Oh no.” You cooed, frowning over at him, very concerned. “I should check on him at some point today.”

“It could do him some good.” He agreed with you.

After breakfast, you dressed and found Henry hunched over his desk in his study on the ground floor. Even standing out in the hall and peeking through the cracked open study door, you could see the pain Henry was clearly in. He rubbed at his temples at regular intervals as he frowned at the report in his hand, eyes narrowed at the black lettering. Frowning and pressing your lips together, you turned on your heels and went into the kitchen, where Damien had taken the herbs you used the night before to help Henry's migraine.

Finding and filling a kettle, you set it on the stove to boil, preparing the cup of mint and willow's bark, with a drizzle of honey and a splash of milk. Smiling, you set the steaming cup onto a small plate, carefully carrying it down the hall, and into Henry's study.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked, sounding annoyed, as he looked up from the report he had been staring at for nearly an hour.

“Damien said, your migraine returned.” You replied, carefully setting the cup down on a clean corner of his desk. “So, I brewed you another cup to help.” You told him, smiling at him sweetly.

Henry set down his neglected report and stared at the steaming cup of tea, the muscles of his jaw flexing as his mind roiled with a kaleidoscope of thoughts, before huffing and picking his report back up. “You can leave.” He hissed, not looking back at you, with a cold aura rolling off of him.

“Um..” You floundered, then let out a soft sigh and excused yourself from his study.

You made it halfway up the staircase to your room before a wave of tears hit you, no one had been so rude and cold to you as Henry was, and you had encountered some stubborn people in your practice. Taking a moment to get a hold of yourself, you continued upstairs to your room. But, it was an hour or two later that Damien appeared in your doorway with a note in his hand.

“This came from the village for you, Ms.” He said, holding it out to you.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking the note from him and breaking the seal. “Oh no.” You gasped, reading the note.

The note was in your father's own hand, but wrote about one of your patients who suffered from a chronic illness, telling you that he had turned for the worst and you needed to hasten down to the village before it was too late. In a flustered rush, you grabbed your cloak and the bag you kept your herbs in and rushed down to the front door, your heart pounding and mind racing, praying that you made it back to the village in time.

“Where are you going?” Henry's voice boomed, aided by the echo of the vast foyer.

“One of my patients in the village needs me.” You replied, startled and out of breath.

“No.” He snapped, shaking his head, rage burning in his blue eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“What!” You snapped, gobsmacked.

“You heard me.” Henry hissed at you, his body tense. “You aren't to leave this house, unless you have my say.” He told you, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “And you do not. So, go back to your room, this instant.”

You stared at Henry wide eyed, shocked and dumbfounded. How could he refuse to allow you to go down to the village to tend to one of your patients, one so critically ill. Surely, being someone that has lost loved ones to such a crippling illness would understand that need and haste of trying to cure someone with something so life altering. Who did he think he was? Your warden, keeping you in this dark and oppressing castle, cut off from those you loved, with only his hot and cold tempers and Damien the rest of your life.

“No.” You replied, your voice a mixture of stubborn defiance, shock and outlined in fear of what he would do with your disobedience. “He'll die.”

“Then, he can die and you'll have one less obligation.” Henry answered, his voice cold as ice. “Now, do as I told you.”

You gulped, watching him practically grow with his rage and impatience towards you, and your hand still resting on the handle of the front door, gripped it tighter. Henry saw the small action, like a wolf seeing the small twitch of a rabbit's body, readying itself to bolt from the reach of its mighty jaws. You had the door open by the time he took a step towards you and felt the brush of his fingers against the fabric of your cloak as you bolted out the door and into the bright light of the early afternoon sun.

Running several yards, and expecting Henry to catch you at any moment, you realized he wasn't and paused to look back towards the castle. You saw the outline of his tall frame standing just before the threshold of the doorway, unmoving to dash after you and drag you back inside. Henry just stood there, fuming with rage and shaking with something far more complex as he battled to go after you. But, after several long moments, he disappeared, the door slamming shut with an echo.

“Such a strange man.” You panted to yourself, before turning back down the path towards the village, wasting no more time to reach your patient.

“Sir?” Damien frowned, hearing the crash of the front door slamming closed from the other side of the house, and came running to make sure nothing nefarious had occurred.

“Damn that girl!” Henry roared, storming into his study.

“Has something happened to her?” Damien asked, alarmed for your welfare.

“Not yet.” Henry replied, angrily pacing the room. “She's left, after I explicitly told her not too.”

Damien's brow creased for a moment, then it dinged in his mind. “Her note, of course.” He nodded, smiling to himself.

“What note?” Henry growled, stopping his pacing to look at his servant.

“She received a note about twenty minutes ago, from her father.” He explained to his master. “One of her patients suffers from a chronic illness. Her mother cared for him before her death, and she's picked up the patients, in her wake.”

“You read the note?”

“I might have glanced at it.” He replied, smiling softly. “But, the rest of it, she told me herself.” He added, he had grown quite fond of you.

“Why didn't you tell me she received it?” Henry hissed, his lips pressed into an angry line.

“I didn't want to bother you.” Damien gulped, biting the corner of his own lip. “I know you've been very busy lately. Especially after one of the ships go-”

“I want any correspondents she gets, I don't care who they come from!” Henry barked at him. “I'll determine whether or not she'll receive them or not. Do you understand?”

“Of course, sir.” Damien nodded, nervously licking his lips.

“Clear this away.” Henry huffed, waving a hand at the tea cup still on his desk as he sat back down.

“Right away, sir.” He rushed over and picked the empty cup up.

“Close the door.” Henry called as Damien started to leave.

Nodding his head, Damien closed the door behind him and took the cup into the kitchen to be washed. With the door closed, Henry leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingertips to his temples. His migraine had gone away after drinking the last cup of tea you had made him, but now it started to come back, his anger with you disobeying him and leaving the house, and him not going after you, to bring you back.

“Why didn't I bring her back?” He growled at himself, pressing his fingers harder into his temples. “Why couldn't I go after her?” He panted, squeezing his eyes shut against the throbbing pain in his skull.

You sighed as you stepped out of a hut in the village, exhausted from the run to the village and the struggle to help your patient. A warm hand rested on your shoulder and you didn't need to see who it was, before you turned into the warm body it belonged to, enveloped by iron hardened arms that clasped you to an even warmer chest.

“You did your best, little lamb.” Your father's rough voice whispered into your ear, his hot breath warming the cove of your cold nipped ear. “You did your best.”

“Ma would have done better.” You mumbled into his tunic.

He smiled into your hair and brushed it out of your face, before cupping your cheeks in his calloused hands. “Your mother would have done all the same things, little lamb. She taught you well.” He assured you, before gently kissing your forehead. “I should walk back with you, it's getting too dark for you to walk alone.” He said, letting you go.

“I don't want to go back, papa.” You frowned, not willing to let him go. “Please, don't make me go back to him.” You begged, looking up into his eyes. “He's so cold and mean to me.”

“Has he tried to wrong you?” Your father frowned, a flash of anger in his eyes.

“No. Thankfully. But, all I do is sit in my room and read or stare out the window. The only person I have to talk to, other than myself, is his servant, Damien, who is a very sweet and attentive person, it's just..” You paused, your chin dropping to your chest as tears started to overwhelm you.

“It's lonely.” You sniffled.

“I know how you feel, my sweet.” He sighed, huddling you back up into his arms. “It's lonely for me as well. But, things will get better, he'll warm up to you, once you work your sweet charm on him.” He chuckled. “I've seen you melt the icy heart of so many, I doubt Mr. Cavill will be immune to it.”

“I don't know, Papa.” You sighed, fruitlessly dabbing at your tears. “He's not like anyone I have ever met before.”

Your father's roar of laughter echoed in the growing misty darkness. “The man is the richest in the county and among the elitist rich in the country, lamb. He's got airs and graces, self entitlement, ego and everything at his fingertips. He's spent his life with people at his beck and call, doing his bidding and obeying him.” He chuckled. “You've never dealt with a rich person before. But, you'll adapt, you are so much like your mother in that aspect. You are strong, independent, intelligent and like a red hot piece of steel coming out of the forge, capable of shaping and molding yourself to fit into any situation.”

“You just need to show him that.”

“So, you think I should go back to him and his dreary castle?” You frowned up at him, your stomach in knots.

“I do, lamb.” He nodded, but you could see he had knots in his own stomach. “If he ever does anything vile against you or your person, you come home, and he'll feel the strength of my hammer.” He told you, showing where you had inherited your stubbornness.

“All right, Papa.” You sighed, but straightened your stiff back. “I'll go back, for you.”

“Then, let's be off!” He said, taking your bag for you and accompanied you back through the village and up the road leading back to Cavill and his Castle of loneliness. “I'll write to you more regularly.” Your father said, as you both reached the turn on the road leading up to the house. “So, it will seem like I am with you more.” He promised, his voice slightly weak.

“I would love nothing more.” You replied, your own voice weak with tears and emotions, as you reached out and squeezed his hands.

Taking leave of your father, you made the solitary and anxious walk up to the castle, trying not to let the shadows from the trees and sudden animal noises spook you, keeping your eyes forward. Once you reached the front door you thought of knocking or ringing the bell, but knew if you did it would wake Henry and you weren't in the mood and didn't possess the strength for his cold wrath. So, you tried the handle and found it open, which in actuality, didn't surprise you. No one in their right or ill mind would try to rob the Bane, no matter how rich he might be.

You quietly closed the door behind you, before taking off your shoes, not wanting to make the old floorboards creak under their soles. Gingerly tiptoeing by Henry's study door, it was closed, but you weren't willing to risk him being inside and hearing you, before mounting the stairs, pausing with each small noise you or the house made. Only letting out a soft sigh of relief, you weren't aware you were holding, when you reached your floor, no one but you occupied the floor, with the Bane on another floor and Damien sleeping somewhere below stairs no doubt.

But, you lifted a brow at the stream of light coming from under your room door, but brushed it off.

“Maybe Damien made up my fireplace to keep my room warm, while I was away.” You said to yourself, it was something sweet and thoughtful Damien would do. “Has to be, what else would it be?” You sighed at your silly paranoia and went inside.

“So, you came back.”

You yelped, dropping your shoes and bag to the floor with a clatter, pressing your back to the now closed door and your hands to your pounding chest. “What are you doing in here?” You demanded, out of breath from your fright.

“Waiting for you.” Henry replied, leaning forward in the chair by the window, that you usually occupied to read during the days.

“In my room?” You asked, lifting your brows at him and trying to collect yourself, not wanting to give the beast the satisfaction of seeing you off-guard.

“It's only your room, because I allow it to be.”

“How kind of you.” You hissed, finally recovering yourself and relaxed. “I didn't think you were capable of it.”

An oddly sinister smirk tugged up one side of Henry's mouth. “I am capable of a good many things.” He replied, licking his lips and resting his elbows on his knees. “How was your little patient, anyway.” He asked, lifting a brow at you. “Did you cure him with your cute little leaves?”

“Don't mock me!” You snapped, hands tightening into fists.

“I'll take that as a no, then.” He smirked more at you, apparently pleased with himself.

You drew in a shaky breath and let it out, trembling with a built up amount of emotions, before suddenly snapping towards him, in a fit of rage. “You fucking bastard!” You growled, jaw clenched and hands raised.

Henry snapped to his feet, like a flash of lightning, grasping your raised wrists in his hands, instantly restraining you and pushed you up against the wall beside the window he had been sitting next to. “That is fowl language from such a sweet mouth.” He growled, looking into your angry eyes.

“Did your patient break your little heart?” He mocked you, venomously.

He didn't believe for a moment that you had actually gone down to the village for a real patient, that your father had only sent the note as a cryptic message for something entirely different. Like a lover or beloved, trying to plot something to get you away from him.

“What are you talking about!” You yelled, struggling against him, confused and frightened.

“Do you think I'm a fool!?” Henry bellowed back at you, painfully pinning your hands to the wall at either side of your head. “I know that note was a fucking lie! A feign to get away from here, probably to see some peasant lover.”

“What do you care?!” You huffed, even more confused and shocked at him and his outburst. “You'd pawn me off to anything that gave you the chance to do so! You didn't want me here to start with, I know that, the whole village, if not the county, knows that.” You taunted him, hotly.

“Yet, here you are acting like your my scorned lover!”

“Because you are mine.” Henry growled in a low tone. “My possession to do with as I please.”

“Ha!” You laughed in his face. “I am no such thing.” You huffed, shaking your head at him. “I don't belong to you. My only misfortune is being held prisoner here, with a monster as a jailer.”

You yelped as one of Henry's hands gripped your jaw in a vice-like grip, forcing your head back to look up at him. “You belong to me.” He hissed, his face so close to yours now that your noses brushed and his hot breath wafted over your face. “I paid for you. All that money your dear father owes me; for the goods he uses to sustain his profession, for the taxes on the land his forge and house rest on, and so much more.”

“He sold you to me, to have those debts paid for and cleared away.”

The dull nails of his fingers pressed into the smooth skin of your cheeks and you whimpered, pathetically, immobilized by one of his hands pinning your wrists above you, his other hand gripping your head, like a bear trap, and his body caging you in, preventing even the smallest of movements of your body.

Your rage was forgotten in that instance, seeing the true Bane, and fear paralyzed you.

“So, yes.” He grinned at you in a way that made your heart stop. “I am your jailer, and you are my prisoner, and if you ever leave this house again, you will feel my wrath. Do I make myself clear to you?”

“Yes.” You gulped in a breathy whimper, unable to move your head to nod.

“Very good.” Henry replied, tipping his head slightly to the side. “Now, that's settled.” He looked to the clock, then back at you. “It's almost two in the morning.” He moved to stand sideways, but still stood close to you.

“Go to bed.” He ordered you, his tone leaving no room to argue.

Licking your dry lips, you slowly moved away from him, to the edge of your bed and pulled down the blankets, while he approached the door. You gulped, your throat sore from where the heel of his palm had pressed as he held you. “My patient,” You dared to say, as he opened the door. “died.” You informed him, your face hardening against the hurt of losing a patient and the fear that gripped you as Henry turned around.

Henry regarded you with a tired, cold and indifferent face, but his blue eyes gave away to something deeper you couldn't place your finger on. “You no longer have any patients, real or otherwise. So, you should put your mind to other things.” He told you in an emotionless voice, then left.

“Other than you, you mean.” You said to the closed door of your bedroom.

You stood by the side of your bed for a long time, paranoid that Henry was just standing in the hallway listening in on you, which he did for several minutes, before going to his own room, before your turned and went into the bathroom, desperately needing to soak in a hot bath. You needed that delectable heat and steaming water to melt away every ounce of stress, fear and exhaustion that you had coursing through your sore body, and it did just that. You didn't get out of the tub until the water turned as cold as Henry was towards you and it was almost four in the morning. Then, and only then, did you put on a nightie and crawl into bed, using the dying light of the fire in the grate to read your current book and fell asleep as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon and tree tops.

“Good morning, Ms.!” Damien's chipper voice rang out as he entered your room with breakfast.

You groaned and tossed the blankets over your head, you had only gotten four hours of sleep and weren't in the mood for how happy-go-lucky Damien sounded, especially after what had happened with Henry during the night.

“Oh, come on!” He teased you, setting the silver tray of food down on the table. “It is a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the wind is hardly blowing and the birds are singing!” He said, trying to infuse his energetic mood into you, coaxing you up and out of bed, as he threw the curtains open and opened the windows, letting in the fresh sea air.

“Not today, Damien.” You sighed, turning your face into the plush pillow with a groan.

“Didn't sleep so well?” He asked, tilting his head at you, as he stood at the foot of your bed.

“You can say that.” Your mumbled reply answered, staring at the thin seam of light at the edge of your blanket.

“All right, then why don't you stay in bed, until you feel ready to get up and meet the day.” He suggested to you, though the concern was evident in his voice.

“Thank you, Damien.” You replied, closing out that thin line of light, plunging yourself in the darkness you felt yourself being swallowed into.

Lingering for a moment longer, Damien quietly showed himself out of your room, silently closing your door after him. You laid in bed for a long time after he left, not moving and barely moving, before letting out a deep sigh and tossed the blankets off of your body with a huff.

“Damn that man.” You growled, staring up at the canopy of your bed. “Damn him to hell!” You shouted, your anger and despair culminating inside of you.

You didn't care if he could hear you, let him hear you and rot for it. You had done him no wrong, you had done nothing to him, other than the misfortune of your father giving you to him to pay a lifelong debt, before you were even born and your father owed his father, before his death.

“Why couldn't all of you died in this miserable house, that's never been a home.” You growled, beating your fists against the feather mattress. “Do this already dismal world a spot brighter for the rest of us.” You raged, jerking your body to sit up and threw your pillow against the door.

You sighed and rubbed at your face, trying to calm yourself, not wanting the Bane to reduce you to this mood and attitude, it was one thing for him to act like it and another for you to do it. Your parents raised you better and would be disappointed in your tantrum. Straightening your back and taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, you got out of bed, pulling on your robe and tied it around your waist, before moving over the breakfast Damien had made for you, it was almost cold now, but you didn't mind; your stomach was rumbling like an angry tiger.

Finishing your breakfast, you glanced around your room and sighed, there was nothing to do. But, read, that was.

Getting up, you went into the attached library, since you had finished your last book, The Iliad by Homer. You froze half way into the room, there was a package sitting on the table that hadn't been there the day before. You glanced at the door that led out of the library and into the hallway, it was closed, but the cobwebs that usually covered it, were broken and disturbed.

“Damien.” You sighed, shaking your head, figuring the man was just trying to cheer you up.

Picking the wrapped package up, you touched the delicate, fancy, black and gold wrapping paper, feeling the heft of what was inside and wondered what in the world he had gotten you. It felt like a book, from what you could feel through the paper, and you didn't want to ruin such nice, and clearly expensive, paper. So, you carefully unwrapped it and setting the paper down on the table, it was indeed a book, a hardcover of deep brown leather and gold stamping decoration on both covers and the spine.

Turning it over, you blinked at the cover.

“The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas.” You read off the front cover, before opening it, a folded piece of paper with your name scrawled on it slipped out and fell to the floor, making you bend down to pick it up.

Setting the book down, you unfolded the note, then frowned and shook your head at it, it was written on Cavill Industries stationary. But, the words surprised and shocked you even more.

My actions last night were unspeakable, I do not wish to keep you a prisoner in a place that has become my own penitentiary, nor make you feel fear, while you stay within these walls.

I have my reasons, that are not your fault and beyond your understanding. Take my apology with this gift, I have read it myself, and would love to know what you think of it.

Perhaps over dinner, one night.

If you would be so nicely inclined to have it, with me. - Henry

Your mouth was agape by the time you finished reading his note, having to read it twice over to ensure you weren't misreading it. You were so taken aback and dumbstruck by it, how could this be the same man that had pinned you, bodily, to a wall the night before, telling you of the wrath you would endure if you considered leaving the castle without his permission.

Was it some sick and amusing joke of his?

Was he trying to lull you into some sort of false confidence?

Was he trying to brainwash you into falling into being his good little pet?

Or was Henry being genuine and trying to make amends for his inexcusable and ungentlemanly behavior towards you?

It was all too confusing and made your head throb.

So, you set the note down on the table and picked up the book, rubbing your palm over the orate cover, before moving over to the window seat, settling on its plush cushion, the filtered gray light coming from the cloudy sky came through the windowpane, illuminated the pages just enough for you to read by, and you quickly got lost in the world that inked its pages.

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steddielvr · 3 years

Text

never be worthy

matthew fairchild x reader (the shadowhunter chronicles)

warnings: angst, self depreciation, mentions of alcoholism, fluff, NO COI SPOILERS

word count: 2840 words

summary/request: Matthew Fairchild x Reader where they have a heated argument and end up making up with a heated kiss under the rain. from @livvyheronstairs

a/n: thank you so much for the request my love, i hope you like it😉 as always, i got a little carried away but this idea just kept developing randomly whilst daydreaming, but also rereading COG and reading COI really sparked my inspiration for TSC and Matthew so expect more fics in the coming weeks :)

“I think I’m going to retire for the night.”

Lucie’s eyes widen at your whispered admission, looking back from her spot in front of you with concern etched on her features. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor before the circular table in the middle of the wood-panelled room of the Devil Tavern, which belonged to the Merry Thieves but was the host of your group gathering for the night.

The rest of your friend group were scattered around the room. Thomas and Christopher were clustered in Christopher's ‘laboratory’ in one corner, the elder boy nodding along absentmindedly to whichever scientific experiment the younger boy had decided to ramble to him about. James was sitting in his window seat, thoroughly engrossed in the book upon his lap whilst Matthew and Cordelia lounged on the sofa, both smiling and discussing who knows what.

“What? But...the night has barely begun.” Lucie replies in the same quiet tone, setting her writing materials down on the table before her and giving you her full attention.

“I know, Luce. However, I must admit I’m really not feeling too great. I think it best that I return home.” you force a reassuring smile, but it falters slightly as you hear Cordelia let out a loud laugh across the room.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the sound, discreetly gathering your things and pulling on your coat.

“But..Y/N/N...You cannot possibly be thinking of walking home at this hour and in this weather.” she says, gesturing to one of the windows which looked out upon Fleet Street. It was late and the sun had long since set, the sky pitch-black, the only source of light being the dim street lamps outside. On top of that, rain was viciously lashing against the windows, rattling them and disturbing poor James as he tried to read. “It’s hardly logical.”

“I’ll be fine, Luce,” you smile fondly at your friend’s worry, “I’m a Shadowhunter. I can handle myself. Besides, it’s not a long walk back and you know how I love the rain.”

“Y/N, I really don’t think..” she mutters, watching you stand and ready yourself to leave with unease. “At least take a carriage or let one of us accompany you.”

‘Lucie, it’ll be fine. Besides, everyone is enjoying themselves. I don’t want to burden any of you.” you assure her, glancing around at your unaware friends, eyes lingering a second longer on the golden and red haired duo. “I’ll slip out whilst everyone is distracted, as to not see their disappointment.” you tease, secretly believing no one would truly be wound up over your absence. “Enjoy your night, Luce.”

She opens her mouth to reply but you are already gone, stealthily opening the door, slipping through and shutting it behind you silently. You let out a breath, resting your head back against the wooden frame and letting your eyes close briefly before catching yourself, quickly making your way down the two flights of creaking steps to the bar area of the Tavern.

The crowd was its usual mix of pixies, vampires, lycanthropes and warlocks, but none of them paid you any notice as you made your way through the packed room towards the exit. You caught the eye of Polly, the werewolf barmaid who had taken the Thieves under her wing a couple years back, as you were leaving and she threw you a concerned look, which you instantly waved off, giving her a kind smile in return before stepping out into the night.

The rain hits you instantly, soaking you in seconds as you desperately try to pull your coat tighter around yourself. You curse yourself for being so dramatic and leaving so suddenly but you knew you couldn’t stand to be in that room any longer. It wasn’t that you didn’t like seeing your friends. On the contrary, you loved them more than anything in the world and you would usually be eagerly anticipating any time the 7 of you could spend with one another.

However, recently, two specific members of your group had been growing painfully closer and it was beginning to have a real impact on you. Those two members were, of course, Matthew Fairchild and Cordelia Carstairs. Although you were beyond happy to see Cordelia becoming increasingly more comfortable around the boys, you couldn’t help the pang in your chest whenever you saw the two of them laughing together over some private joke that no one else was involved in or with their heads bent together as if they were sharing an intimate secret.

You knew you had no right to feel jealous; you had no claim over Matthew and he was free to flirt with whomever he pleased. But when you had been in love with someone for as long as you had been with Matthew, it tended to burn when you frequently had to sit back and watch said person focus their affection elsewhere.

“Y/N!”

You are pulled abruptly from your thought spiral by a familiar voice shouting your name. You turn slowly, squinting through the horrendous weather to see a certain Fairchild boy hurriedly making his way towards you, his golden locks plastered to his forehead with the rain. In his haste, he had forgone a coat and his outfit, consisting of a new lime-green waistcoat he had enthused about upon arriving at the Tavern, was completely drenched.

“Slow down, Y/N/N.” he pleads, slowing to a stop before you and hunching over to momentarily catch his breath. “What was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” you question, feigning innocence as he looks back at you like a kicked puppy.

“You left without saying goodbye. Is everything alright? Why are you leaving?” he asks, eyes raking your face in concern.

“I’m just feeling a little under the weather is all. I didn’t want to ruin everyone’s high spirits by moping around so I left. I honestly didn’t think anyone would notice.” you chuckle, vulnerability lacing the sound, making Matthew’s heart ache.

“Of course we would notice. Why wouldn’t we notice?” he replies, eyebrows furrowing with worry. “Y/N/N-“

“Matthew, I’m fine, really. I just want to go home.” you force a small smile, burrowing further into the warmth of your coat as you turn back around to continue your walk.

“Hey, hey, hey..” Matthew says, jogging to overtake you until he’s standing before you again. “At least let me drop you off in my carriage?”

“It’s fine, Matthew.” you shake his persistence off, trying to keep walking but he holds out an arm to stop you.

“Y/N, wait-“

“By the Angel, why do you care so much?” you burst, Matthew stepping back slightly in surprise. “I don’t need to be babied, alright? I’m a Shadowhunter too, I can make it home just fine on my own.”

“I know you can manage more than fine on your own, Y/N, but that doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you!” he responds, his voice raising to meet your own tone. “Why must you always refuse when people are trying to help you?”

“I do not always refuse when people are trying to help me! It’s not my fault if I don’t need your help right now-“

“But you so obviously do!” he yells, running a hand through his soaked hair in frustration. “You were perfectly fine not long ago and now suddenly you’re leaving? There’s clearly something going on and I’m concerned for you, okay? Why can’t you just tell me what’s really going on?”

“Maybe I don’t want to watch you flirt with Cordelia all night long!” you admit, the words leaving your mouth before you have a chance to stop them.

Your eyes widen, mouth snapping shut to prevent any more unwanted confessions from escaping. Matthew stares back at you with a similar expression, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your outburst.

“What are you talking about? I haven’t been flirting with Cordelia.” he responds defensively, shocked that you would even think that. “Why on earth would I be flirting with Cordelia?”

“Oh, come on, Matthew. You don’t have to pretend with me.” you sigh, dropping your head into your hands and brushing the raindrops from your eyelids in order to see the boy before you clearer. “I see the way you look at her. You’re at ease around her, you share inside jokes, you reach for your flask less around her… It’s pretty obvious.”

“No, no, no, you have it all wrong. Yes, I’m comfortable with Cordelia and yes, we have a laugh but I am not in love with her, if that’s what you’re suggesting. She’s a friend, a good friend, but that’s all.” he assures. “Besides, she’s clearly in love with my oblivious parabatai so..”

“What, so that’s the only thing holding you back?”

“What? No! That is not what I meant, Y/N-“ he begins but you cut him off with a bitter laugh.

“Matthew, you don’t have to defend yourself to me. Alright? You owe me nothing and you can love whomever you please. Excuse me.” you give him a forced smile, moving around him to continue your journey home and grimacing as the rain begins to fall harder.

You make it a few steps without interruption, a part of you disappointed that Matthew didn’t try to stop you, before you hear a loud yell of frustration and Matthew shouts to you over the rain:

“I’m in love with you, you idiot!”

You freeze mid-step, heartbeat racing as you cautiously turn back to the boy who holds your heart, positive you had heard him completely wrong. He begins to take slow steps towards you at the slight look of hope on your face, taking a nervous breath before beginning to speak again.

“I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you, Y/N/N. But I have never and will never be worthy of you.” he confesses, seeing you open your mouth to argue and rushing to continue before you can. “I have done things, unspeakable things, that would make you despise me if you ever discovered them. I’m an alcoholic screw-up and I will never deserve you.”

“Matthew…”

“You say I reach for my flask less when Cordelia’s around? Who else is always with me when she is?” he asks, smiling sadly when he sees the lost look on your face. “You are, Y/N. I reach for my flask less when you’re around. In the hopes of showing you that maybe I’m not just an alcoholic so utterly undeserving of you, even if I know that will never be true.” he shakes his head, hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides. “So there you go. The truth. Do with it what you will.”

You don’t move for a good few seconds, processing everything he had just spilled to you, heart breaking further and further at his words full of hatred for himself. It’s only when you notice his head fall in defeat that you realise what your silence must be suggesting to him.

You curse silently to yourself, quickly moving back along the rain-slick pavement towards him and taking his face into your freezing hands. He shivers and tries to turn his head from your touch but you are persistent, tightening your hold and tilting his head so his eyes meet your own.

“Matthew, how could you ever think that?” you whisper, eyes filling with tears at the broken look on his face. “I don’t know what it is you did that made you feel this way about yourself but it needs to stop. You are not an alcoholic screw-up. You are not unworthy of me. Matthew Fairchild, you are everything.”

His own eyes well up, shaking his head to immediately deny your words.

“Stop it.” you scold, voice stern and clear. “Matthew, you are kind. You are sweet. You are quite possibly the most selfless person I’ve ever met. You are funny. You are strong. The list goes on and on but every word is true. All of these things..” you trail off, looking him directly in the eye before speaking your next words. “All of these things are the reasons why I fell in love with you all those years ago.”

Those final words are his undoing, a loud sob leaving his lips as he wraps you up in his arms, pulling you into him and capturing your lips with his own in a passionate kiss. The rest of the world falls away and it’s just the two of you, two teenagers madly in love and expressing that love with a kiss in the rain.

Your lips mold together perfectly, as if they were made to fit together all along. His arms tighten around your waist as the kiss heats up, pulling you impossibly closer as one of your hands moves from his face to run through his soaked golden locks, pulling on the strands gently and earning a soft moan from him.

You break apart for air, faces wet with both rain and tears as you lay your forehead against his own. You both just take in the other’s presence, eyes still shut tightly and still entangled in one another’s arms.

You reluctantly peel open your eyes, instantly meeting the wide, green orbs already staring back at you in awe. You smile widely, not quite believing what had just happened, but it falters at the look of uncertainty on Matthew’s face.

“What’s wrong? Do you regret..” you ask, fearing the worst but he quickly shakes his head, trailing his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks delicately.

“No! No, of course not. I would never regret that in a million years.” he lets out a breathy chuckle before his face turns serious once again. “But, I meant what I said. You deserve so much better. It would be selfish of me to make you be with me when there’s so many people who could-“

His words are cut off by you pressing your lips back against his for a brief kiss. You smile encouragingly up at him when you break the kiss, thumb tracing soothing circles along his cheekbones.

“Matthew, you are not making me do anything. I want nothing more than to be with you. Why do you think I would have rather left than see you with another girl?” you reassure him, smile widening as his own face brightens slightly.

“I can’t believe you ever thought I was in love with anyone but you.” he laughs, your heart soaring at the sound. “You’re sure? You’re absolutely sure?”

His eyes search your face desperately, looking for any sign of reluctance. You nod your head, arms moving to encircle his shoulders as you stretch upwards, leaving a soft kiss on his nose.

“I’m absolutely positive, Matthew Fairchild.” you confirm.

“I’ll be better for you. I’ll work on my drinking, I promise. I will never disappoint you.” he swears, face withholding nothing but sincerity.

“Oh, Matthew…” you shake your head, heart clenching at the truth in his words. “You don’t need to do anything. You are already perfect the way you are. If you were any different, you wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with.”

He stares at you in disbelief for a long while before pulling you back into his chest, burying his head into your neck as sobs begin to rack his body. You embrace him tightly, one hand secure around his back, holding him flush against you as the other runs reassuringly through his hair.

“I love you so much.” he mumbles against your shoulder, arms strengthening their hold on you even further.

“And I love you.” you promise, gently easing his head back from you to look him in the eye. “I love you.”

His face breaks into a wide grin, eyes full of love and disbelief. It’s at that moment realisation seems to dawn on him that the two of you are still out in the middle of the street, the rainstorm still raging around you.

“We should really get you home. I would never forgive myself if you caught a cold because of this.” he says, taking your hand in his own and beginning to ease you in the direction of his carriage.

“Oh, come on! We’ve both definitely caught a cold already and you know how much I love the rain...” you hint, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

He groans in defeat, knowing he could never deny you anything.

“Alright, alright. Who am I to deny my love what she wants?” he grins, your face lighting up at his words. “A walk home in the rain it is.”

You smile triumphantly, moving to tuck yourself into his side as you both begin the walk back to your home.

Not even a few days later, you would both indeed be bed ridden with terrible colds but to both of you, it was definitely worth it.

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starbuckie · 3 years

Text

𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

challenge: time travel challenge by @justagirlinafandomworld

prompt: “we’re divorced?”

pairing: sirius black x reader

words: 5.7k words

warnings: FOURTH WALL BREAK!!(sorry im very excited about that), lots of angst, almost smut(hehe), sirius lowkey has a breeding kink, sirius is an asshole for a bit, the smallest bit of fluff, fix-it, and the same time travel theory as back to the future

summary: an unnatural occurrence lets a woman go back in time to try and change everything she’s known for the past twenty years.

a/n: wow, i normally don’t write for harry potter so this was a nice change. anyways, this is for yvette’s time travel writing challenge, and everybody say HAPPY BIRTHDAY YVETTE! i’m so sorry this is late, it got deleted and i needed to re-edit, but i truly appreciate your friendship and your lovely, amazingly beautiful self, and I’m so so glad that we became friends :) this fic is not beta-read at all, so if you see any mistakes tell me, but otherwise i really hope you enjoy this fic<3

main masterlist || harry potter masterlist

It still wasn’t over. After all she had lost, more specifically everyone she had lost, and the shitty cycle that she had to call her life, it still wasn’t over. The people she had watched the life drain from, the screams of those suffering from the loss caused by the Dark Lord, and yet life still hadn’t had its fill of torturing Y/N. Grimmauld Place felt empty without the kids, without the Weasleys, but they had gone back to their home and soon enough she would have to as well. Harry had gone back to Hogwarts with Dumbledore, though she’d argued to hold onto him just a bit longer after-

After Sirius had died.

Time had passed, maybe two or three weeks, but no matter what the woman couldn’t bring herself to get out of Sirius’ old bedroom, simply staring at the ceiling with her tears at bay. Her and Sirius had been a complicated thing, to say the least, a topic nobody had brought up since 1983, when she had banned it. Not as if there was much to talk about after the divorce and Sirius going to Azkaban. After Lily and James had died, after she had fought with Dumbledore for custody of Harry, after she had become a professor at Beauxbatons and moved to France without a second thought. Sirius had been locked up after he’d hurt her in the worst possible way, and Y/N’s heartbroken soul found no other reason to return to England.

But, she pushed those bad memories to the back of her mind. It seemed so trivial, looking back on it. Not the broken house, of course, that had been his own mistake. But Y/N had many regrets, all of them seeming to revolve around the mischievous black-haired man who she had fallen in love with as a teen. The night it went down, the night their relationship had fractured at the seams and fallen down, was her greatest one however. It had been so stupid, so, so stupid, but they’d both gotten caught up in the moment, and Y/N had let him die without knowing how much she was sorry for that night that they let their fears consume them.

The cries that she had tried so hard to contain finally broke free from the restraints of her heart. “I’m so sorry, Siri,” she whispered into the air, “I couldn’t save you this time.” As the hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks, Y/N shuffled across the room, letting her feet drag her to the old Black family room, the dark green walls embracing her rainy emotions.

A little gasp escaped her lips as she looked at the portraits among the wall. The Black family tree was faded along the age-old wall, but what she was really looking for was the burned out image of her raven-haired love. There, right next to Regulus, was a black spot, scorned and scarred by the prestigious family for being a blood traitor. Y/N smiled and traced the burn with her finger, remembering their fourth year when she had accompanied him home for the holidays so he wouldn’t be completely alone in the hellhole he had to call his house. Sirius had snuck them up to this room and spent the night talking in hushed whispers sworn secrets. “I’ll be yours forever, Siri, and I’m sorry for fighting with you. I wish-” she sniffled, glaring at the spot in the wall as she tried to garble out her words, “I wish, I could go back in time, and just fix it. Just me and you, and that stupid night, with the bloody fight about children because you deserve it all, darling.”

“Ah, I think you can.”

Y/N turned around, her eyes wide with fear. That was not Kreacher’s voice. There stood a younger woman, around nineteen, a scroll of paper and a quill in her hand. There was a whisper of a smirk on her face, brown eyes glittering even in the dimness in the room. “Who the hell are you?” Y/N looked at the door, which was still closed as she left it. She cast her wand out, pointing it at the stranger who did nothing but smile. “How did you get in here? Are you with the Lord?”

“With Voldemort?” The woman simply laughed. “Dude, I’m not with ‘the Lord’,” she added with air quotations. “Also I’m not really even here, so don’t you worry about that. My name’s Malia.”

Malia held her hand out, but Y/N kept her guard up. “You’re American. What brings you here? Are you a muggle?”

“Oh, nope, not a wizard, I’m just the author of this story.” Malia confided. “I’m here to tell you that you can fix this.”

“Fix… what?” Malia just rolled her eyes and sighed, staring up towards the ceiling as she spoke.

“God, did I write you to be hard of hearing now, too? I ought to fix that when I get back.” The woman blankly stared at the strange girl, wondering what the actual fuck she was talking about. “I can give you the chance to go back in time, Y/N. It won’t be for long, it’s really not gonna be interesting for more than two hours at most, but that should be enough time to tell the gang about what’s to come with Voldemort.”

“Like... time travel?” Y/N asked. The only way she knew how to time travel was the time turners. “But all of the ti-”

“Time turners were destroyed in the Department of Mysteries, I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve read Harry Potter more times than I’ve said ‘I love you’ to my parents.” Malia smiled. “I’m the author, I make the rules, and my rule is that I’m giving you two hours in 1978 to talk to Sirius so he can fix the emotional fucking mess left behind by J.K. Rowling.”

“Who’s J.K. Rowling?” Malia shuddered at the name.

“A raggedy-ass, transphobic bitch who wrote y’all into existence, but she’s not of importance right now.” She checked the small, rectangular box in her hand, which glowed and provided little light in the darkened room. “Let’s see, it’s currently eleven-forty, so you have until one-forty to find the Marauders and fix this future. It may not be fixed in the books in the future, but if you are able to do it here that’s all that matters.” Malia’s brown eyes were downcast, her bright and loud personality dimming for just a moment before returning to Y/N’s confused gaze once more. “Try not to screw up too much while you’re there, just enough that you defeat the Dark Lord the first time. Tell Sirius all you know and that should be enough for him to fix all the mistakes, but do not under any circumstances let him or anyone else know who you are. I wish you luck, Y/N, it was nice to meet ya in person.”

And with a peace sign in front of her face, she disappeared into a flash of neon pink light.

“Bloody hell! Fix my future? Talk to Sirius? If this even is time travel, then how am I supposed to get there- AH!” Y/N’s body felt like it was turning inside out, her guts being torn from her stomach and back into it again. A delirious giggle arose from her lips in the black void she was pulled into, and a soft chatter could be heard, like voices at the end of a tunnel.

“Blimey, looks like we got ourselves a nutter on school grounds.” Y/N’s arms flailed around, desperately seeking some sort of grounding surface to hold on to when her back hit a rough surface. There was an audible crack somewhere in her body, but she felt so sick that she couldn’t tell where.

“Are you okay, ma’am? You just appeared from the sky and hit the ground.” Warm, brown eyes met Y/N’s, a familiar mess of black curls resting atop of the boy’s head. Large, rounded glasses sat perched on the tip of his nose, and an impish smile, one she used to know so well before he died, met his lips.

“James,” she sighed. The boy stared at her strangely, and only then did she notice the three other boys and girls each behind them. Remus, Peter, Sirius, Lily, Marlene, and Alice.

Sirius.

The sight that met her eyes made her nearly emotional. It had technically been only three weeks since she had seen him, but here was the young boy she had fallen in love with. The one who charmed her with his smart words and witty retorts to her brush-offs, who used to hold her in his arms in the most intimate and gentle ways. His grey eyes sparkled with curiosity, the infamous Marauder mischief swirling within the silvery pools.

Seeing him so young tugged at her heartstrings, and though she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms and never let go, a small, niggling feeling at the back of her head held her back. Was there something wrong?

“You know me?” Oh right, she was currently thirty-five. Looking around she noticed that she was outside the quidditch pitch, and there were other students, staring at her with widened eyes. No one knew she was Y/N L/N, their fellow schoolmate and probably one of the very few of them that survived the Death Eaters attacks. None of them were aware how it ended, or how it was currently going for them back in 1996, and in this time there was the first Wizarding War going on and they had every right to be terrified for their lives.

James now took a more defensive stance, standing tall and holding his wand out. “Who are you?”

She couldn’t give him the answer, instead letting her mouth gape open as she stared at him with wide eyes. Y/N looked across the grounds for the nearest exit, which was down by Hagrid’s hut and into the Forbidden Forest. It was her only choice at this point, to hide in the dark, creepy space, maybe just until the students went away so she could find Sirius and talk to him alone. It’d be hard to separate him from the boys, but if Lily were occupied with James it sure would be easy.

Her younger, seventh-year self didn’t seem to be in the audience, thank Merlin, and with that knowledge, she got up and ran, ignoring her screaming muscles. That time travel really did a number on her.

As she ran through the crowd, shoving people aside, she heard the students mutter, too much in shock and disarray to stop the crazy, old woman who knew James Potter.

“This is dodgy.”

“Someone ought to tell Dumbledore about this.”

“She kinda looks like Y/N L/N.’

“Don’t insult the poor girl like that, that wonker is ages old.”

“Come back here! Who the bloody hell are you?” Y/N’s heart beat quickly in her chest, threatening to burst out. Only three minutes in the past and it was all going straight to shit. “Stupefy!”

Shit. “No, James, please don’t-“ Her body hit the ground and her eyes closed, the last thing she saw being the pumpkin patch by the hut.

“I see you’re awake now, Ms. L/N.” Dumbledore stood above Y/N in the hospital ward bed, his grey beard dangling in front of her face. Her first instinct was to start blaming him for everything that had happened, starting from Lily and James’ deaths to Sirius’, already opening her mouth to call him an old, senile cow, but then she realized that Harry hadn’t been sent to the Dursleys yet, much less been born yet, so none of it would have an effect on him. Y/N’s second instinct was to question how Dumbledore knew who she was in 1978, but her former Headmaster started to speak before she could do so. “I must admit, it’s very courageous, that stunt you just pulled. I don’t think Ms. Louie will be too happy about that.” Y/N sent him a questioning stare. “Malia, the girl you met earlier. Malia Louie.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore, how did you know it was me?” She was dressed in a white gown that went to her knees, and behind him she could see her blouse and jeans folded and clean. Ah, the Hospital Wing. She had brought the boys here more times than she could count in her years at Hogwarts. “I don’t exactly look as young as I used to.”

“Ah, don’t worry Ms. L/N, you’ve kept your good looks quite nicely, even in your older age.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his wrinkled eyes sparkling with joy. “And speaking of young, if you are still worrying yourself about your younger self, you can put that to a stop. I am aware that you are not able to tell anyone who you are, and time travel is exceptionally dangerous if you are seen by the other version of yourself. I’ve already told the students that you were just a stray witch, misguided in your ways and that you were well taken care of. However, I think that brings us to the question of what your intentions are in the past, Ms. L/N.”

“Headmaster, I don’t think I can tell you about my business here. I’ve already messed up by letting the school see me by letting everyone see me, I don’t know why that girl even sent me here, it’s clear that this was a mistake.” Y/N sat up on the headboard, feeling her eyes fill with tears once again. The tall arches of windows let the sun in the room, and she could see the specks of dust swirling around in the golden light. It had to be close to the end of the year for them, maybe sometime around April or May, near the end of N.E.W.T.s at least. She could imagine that it’d be easy for her to get out of Hogwarts for the day, with all the students studying for the stressful exams in the library, maybe she'd make her way to Hogsmeade and walk around or visit Hagrid under a false name to have some tea. He was always open for a nice cuppa with strangers on any free day he had. “Thank you Headmaster, for your kindness, but I really ought to be going. I-it was nice to see you.”

Y/N started to help herself out of the bed, swinging her feet over to touch the cool stone ground. Bones cracked with pain and fatigue, her muscles stretching sluggishly. Merlin, that she was not expecting that much hurt from the fall, but she should have never underestimated James Potter. No one ever should if they want to keep their good mind and sanity.

Dumbledore handed her her clothes, cracked lips set in a straight line as he nodded solemnly. “I hope you accomplish whatever it is you are here to do, Ms. L/N, but I have no doubt that you will.” With a sly wink, he added, “You were always one of our most ardent and bright students.”

Y/N let herself smile, and with a wave, swiftly brought herself to the door. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

After slipping outside, she ran down the corridors, echoes of her feet ringing lightly behind her. The courtyard proved to be empty and she quickly ducked behind a column and tugged her jeans on hastily, making sure that no professors came walking past. Though the sky proved to be bright and cheerful, a slight breeze carried through, making her fall off balance and fall on the cemented ground.

“Are you okay, darling? You look like you’re in need of a little help.” Y/N looked up to the speaking figure, one that she both loved and dreaded to see.

She gathered herself quickly, her mind running fast and heart beating out of her chest as she tried to get out. “Yes, I am okay, thank you for asking. I think I’ll just get up and going now, I don’t need to take time out of your day like this-”

“I know who you are, Y/N.”

Y/N came to a full stop, going against her brain that screamed at her to run away. Sirius looked downtrodden, his grey eyes watering despite the small hint of a smirk on his face. Though he was always one for playing around and not taking anything seriously, she knew when it was time to stop pretending and get real. “How’d you know it was me, Sirius?”

“You really don’t look bad for your age, darling.” He offered her a hand to help her up and she took it graciously, eyeing him nearly guiltily and forgetting about her promise to Y/N. But that was useless now, this moment with her first love was much more important. “Also you have the tattoo on your chest. I knew it was you the moment you landed on school grounds.”

She traced his gaze to her left collarbone, where a paw print, just barely visible beneath her low-cut blouse, sat. It was his, or Snuffles’, paw print, and at this point in time they had probably gotten it done about three months before. He had one for her too, a horseshoe for her horse patronus, right on his left side of his chest too. So they’d always be right next to each other’s hearts, as cheesy as it seemed.

But they were dumb, lovesick teenagers, and they acted the part well too. Their love was all-consuming, shagging in under the bleachers at the quidditch pitch and making out under the stars. It was fast, everything was fast, decisions, ideas, classes, all of them under the impression that they had to do everything right then or they’d be dead before they got to actually live. They had dreams of marriage, and a big, big family, obviously so far away from his family so they could never hurt their children’s lives the way they had hurt his.

They were fantasies, Y/N had known that well enough when she and Sirius got divorced, but it was something that eighteen year-old Sirius Black held close to his heart. No matter how shitty his life got, he was always a firm believer in a happy ending. In their happy ending.

“How am I right now?” They now stood over the Black Lake, staring into the glittering depths of the water where some mermaids could be seen sneaking peeks at the handsome boy and the strange lady who had fallen from the sky.

Sirius stared at her questioningly for a moment. “How are you doing right now? I mean, I believe that I should be asking you that ques- oh, Merlin, I’m such a git, you meant your younger self.” Y/N laughed at that, her heart lifting with the goofiness of the old Sirius relieving an ache in her heart that she had had for so long. Not that old (it felt weird to say that) Sirius had been anything less than silly and snarky, but it was never directed towards her. It was nice to have the resemblance of their old relationship back, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. “I suppose that you’re okay. You didn’t see, well, your big moment on the field, but at this point Lily has probably opened her big, fat mouth and told you. N.E.W.T.s are just finishing up, so you’re much more light-hearted than during the study season.”

“I really did have a stick up my arse during exam time, you always told me to loosen up-”

“Y/N, cut out the small talk, I think it’s okay for me to ask how and what is happening.” Sirius cut in.

So she told him. Y/N had always been upfront with people about everything. Or rather, she had learned how to be upfront with people after her and Sirius’ divorce. Without details of the deaths, she explained how she was sent back into the past to fix it in some conceivable way. However, she did tell him about the fall out. Maybe she wanted him to understand her pain, even though it was a younger him, but she had to admit to herself that it was because she just wanted Sirius, in whatever form life gave her to hear out her grievances and apologies.

Since her Sirius was dead before she could.

“We’re divorced?” Sirius looked about ready to break down into tears, almost as if the concept of them breaking up or separating was foreign to him. “What exactly did we fight over, Y/N? That doesn’t seem normal for the two of us.” Sirius asked.

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t a normal predicament for us. either…”

Sirius slammed the door shut, efficiently pinning her against it with his white button up ruffled up, navy tie hanging from his neck loosely. Y/N’s arms were held down tightly against the oak wood, the sensation of the cold door burning into her rather warm skin making her squeal. Her husband’s tongue worked its way through her parted lips, low groans rising from the back of his throat from the way she moaned in tandem with his hips pushing into hers. Legs wrapped around his tapered waist, the pink, floral skirt Y/N wore rising high on her thighs, revealing more of her flesh to the lust-filled man. Both of their giggles echoed off the hallway walls of their small cottage home, just four miles west of their best friends’.

As the twenty year-old man threw his wife unceremoniously on the bed, he shed himself of his shirt and swiftly unbuttoned his slacks, throwing them haphazardly across the room. Merlin, Y/N looked ethereal laying spread out on the bed, panties around her left ankle, swollen lips parted with short puffs of air leaving them. “You just get right down to business, don’t you, Black.”

Crawling over his body, his hot breath hit her neck as he growled against her skin. “Could say the same thing about you, darling.” Sirius’ lips made their way down every inch, every curve, nook, and cranny of Y/N’s body, smoothly slipping her clothes off as he did so. Her sweet gasps filled the bedroom, back arching off the bed to meet his chest. “I’m going to put a baby in you tonight, sweetheart, we’re-”

Y/N sat up straight, her eyebrows trained in confusion at her husband. “What? A baby?”

Sirius’ heart pounded in his chest. “Yes.” He remarked in a clipped tone. “Is that not what you wanted?”

Her mind recalled her words from earlier that day, as she chatted happily with Lily about the news of her pregnancy. “Siri, I said I may one day enjoy having a kid of my own. Not right now, of course, but later. After all, we only got married a few months ago, don’t you think we should hold off a bit on that? We’re twenty years-old, Siri, there’s so many years for that.”

Rage filled Sirius’ blood like a spreading fire. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much about his anger as it was his hurt and fear. Fear that she had realized how fucked up he truly was, fear that she realized what he had known all along- that she deserved better than him. “So you don’t want a baby with me?”

“I never said I didn’t want that, Sirius, I just said that I’m not ready!” Y/N yelled back. At this point both of them stood on opposite sides of the bed, faces hot with tears. “We’re in the middle of a bloody war, people we know, people we love, have lost their lives, and it is not the ideal environment to raise a child, Sirius! Just because James and Lily are ready to have one doesn’t mean that I am too!”

“When will you be ready, Y/N? When will it ever be enough time for you? When will I be enough for you?” The heartbroken girl tried to interject, but her voice was cut off by her husband’s quickly enough. Sirius climbed onto the bed, holding her chin harshly with one hand. “Tell me, did you ever want to be with me in the first place?”

“Yes, Sirius, of course I wanted to be with you.” His heart hurt looking at the love of his life in tears, but even that was able to melt his cold facade. “I love you more than anything in the world.”

“Then fucking prove it, Y/N.” With that declaration, he removed his hand from her face and gathered his clothes, slamming everything in their shared room as Y/N quivered, knees ready to buckle on the spot. “I’m going out, don’t wait up for me.”

As soon as the front door shut, she fell to the ground in tears, the laughter that once filled their home replaced with the sound of her shattered heart.

Y/N had done her best to not tear up during her explanation of the events that had taken that night, but Sirius' eyes watered, refusing to believe the truth. “No. No. I didn’t do that. Y/N, tell me,” he gripped her biceps with trembling hands, “please tell me I didn’t really do that. I can’t believe that I-I, that I-”

“You were drunk, Sirius, I don’t think you truly knew what you were saying at the time.” She sighed, “But people always say that drunken words are just sober thoughts.” Y/N rubbed her arms, just shivering slightly in the Scotland breeze. “You came back two hours later punching the wall and breaking it, and that’s when I knew that we wouldn’t last.”

The raven-haired boy’s head started to shake, even more mortified of the actions that his future self, the man he’d be in just two years' time, had done. “I packed up my things, not that there were many, we’d only moved into the house a month before, left, and I sent the divorce papers a week later. It was probably better that way, you would’ve divorced me if I hadn’t done it first.” Y/N had gotten used to telling her sob story to colleagues at Beauxbatons, to her family, but it felt different with pre-divorce Sirius. Of course, she had never thought she’d be in this citation either, so no one could really blame her for feeling weird. “You signed them easily, and my lawyer made sure that I never had to see you again.” Until Lily and James died.

“Until…” Sirius led on.

“Merlin’s beard, Sirius, you’ve always been able to read my mind. Shouldn’t have doubted it for a second.” He smiled at the sentiment, gesturing for her to continue. “I can’t tell you, Sirius, I hope you can understand that.”

“Why, Y/N, what happens that can be any worse in the future?” Oh dear, Sirius, you really do not want the answer to that question. She needed any way out of this conversation, after all running away was what she did best, and her eyes already searched for several routes to which she could run. Not that Y/N could ever outrun Sirius in his animagus form, but it was nice to have the belief that she could. The boy sensed her distress and grabbed hold of her hand. “You don’t have to tell me, darling, but I have to admit that I am a bit worried, just in the slightest.”

Y/N let herself calm down, squeezing Sirius’ hand and noticing his watch. She had actually given him that watch, gold-plated and dark grey metal, but it wasn’t the beauty of the gift that caught her eye, but rather the actual time on it. One-thirty.

How had that much time gone by so quickly? She was going to be sucked into the black void of time travel again in ten minutes, and that wasn’t nearly enough time to unload nearly twenty years worth of history onto Sirius. No, he would go insane from that much knowledge, which was exactly against what Malia had advised.

“I don’t have enough time to tell you everything that happens in the future, Sirius. But what I am about to tell you is vital, absolutely vital for the good of all of us in the future.” Sirius nodded with a serious sort of smile on his face. “Don’t let Peter be Lily and James’ secret keeper. When the time comes that they move away, I’m not going to tell you where yet, do not under any circumstances let Peter be their secret keeper. I know he’s one of our best friends right now, and do not tell anyone about this, but he’s going to betray us in the worst way possible.”

While Sirius was shocked, he nodded solemnly and ran a hand through his long hair. “I won’t tell anyone, Y/N. Can I fix us, Y/N? I don’t know if you should be letting the key to a happier future rest in my hands.”

“I full heartedly trust that you’ll do some good, whatever the outcome may be. As for fixing us, I hope you can, but depending on what happens we’ll just have to wait and see.” She sighed, “If you want my opinion on it, I think that we both should have waited longer to get married. It was right after James and Lily got married, but we aren’t and never will be them. We both had a lot of growing up to do, so I would take it slowly. Communicate your wants and needs in the relationship and in the end it may not even be us together. But I know you, Siri, don’t let this get in the way of your entire life. The most important part is that you tell James and Lily about Peter.”

She glanced back up the school grounds where students could start to be seen leaving their classes. “You better get back to the castle, Sirius. McGonagall is going to come for your arse and this time the boys aren’t going to be able to cover for you.”

“If they knew where I was, darling, I don’t even think they’d believe me.” Sirius chuckled.

Y/N nodded in agreement and pulled Sirius into a tight hug. “You can do this, sweetheart, and even if you can’t, it will not stop me from loving you any less. Maybe the future wasn’t meant to be changed, but regardless of whether that is true or not, I know that you will try your hardest, Sirius. Just try not to die, okay?”

The boy was still clutching onto her tightly, his tears soaking her rose-colored blouse. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

With one last kiss on the forehead, she smiled at him. “I know you will, Siri.”

Y/N’s arse hit the floor once again, her spine cracking once again. “What’s the year?” She yelled out, reaching for the walls of the black family room.

But it wasn’t there. Upon opening her eyes, she saw James, Lily, and Sirius sitting at a wooden table in her old white cottage. A nice tea set, her grandmother’s as she realized later, sat in the center, along with a large stack of letters. “Y/N, what the bloody hell happened to you, I’ve been worried sick!”

Her red-headed best friend scurried over to her, brushing invisible dirt off her shoulders and pulling her up abruptly. James fixed the glasses on his nose, cleaning them off with his striped jumper. “You look a little disheveled right now, Y/N, what ran you over?”

“You know who she reminds me of right now, Jamie? That crazy witch friend of Dumbledore’s that made her way onto campus back in seventh year.” Lily giggled as she hugged Y/N.

“Merlin’s beard, you’re right!” James walked over to the woman of the hour, ruffling her hair with a smirk on his face. “If you were about twenty years older I’d have no trouble believing you were the same person.”

While Lily and James recalled their memories from the strange woman all those years ago at Hogwarts, Sirius pulled Y/N aside, an arm wrapped around her waist. The warmth radiating from his body was nice, embracing her in a comfort she hadn’t felt in so long.

“I’m going to go ahead and believe that I did something right?” Sirius grabbed her hand, and only then did she notice the coolness of metal sitting on her left ring finger. There sat the single band of gold, a small ruby encased in its plating. She had once joked that diamonds were too overrated, and he went out and got her the most vibrant gem he could find, claiming that it was just like her. But regardless of its shape, size, or type of gem, it was there.

“Yeah, Siri,” Y/N replied with tears in her eyes, “you did good.”

“Oi, Blacks, stop making out and get over here, we got a letter from Minnie!” James yelled, making both wives chuckle. “Harry’s gotten himself in detention for punching Malfoy again.”

“Oh, thank Merlin, the boy deserves a few more good hits.” Sirius laughed.

“McGonagall still talks to us?” Y/N asked in amazement. “You’ve got to get me caught up.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ve got all the time in the world.” Sirius gently placed his lips onto hers, and for once in nearly twenty years, Y/N felt at peace. There were no more hasty warnings of the future, no psychotic old men coming after her family, no young girls rushing in to tell her how to fix her screwed up life. Cracked, pink lips moving against her own, his tongue delving into her mouth, and Y/N knew she was finally off the clock.

311 notes · View notes

klvbxlove · 3 years

Text

quietness (investigation team x gn! reader)

a/n: honestly, this drabble was not planned at all. but for the past days, i had been feeling really down, so i figured the best and easiest way to somehow vent (?) my feelings was making this drabble. also, i know it might not sound like this is actually an investigation team x reader, but i put that there just because.

(damn, this is a really large GIF. but this is the only one i can find with all the investigation team members 😅)

reader type: gender neutral

reader specification(s): reader is an introvert

genre(s): angst

trigger warning(s): mentions of self-doubting thoughts, mentions of unworthiness

summary: a week ago, you left inaba for osaka without telling your friends, the investigation team. but before that you wrote them a letter talking about everything you’ve been feeling prior to moving.

word count: 1.3k words

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

key:

(f/n) = friend’s name (y/n) = your name

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

To any one of you who reads this,

I will have to be completely honest. I didn’t want to tell you guys about what’s going on. But I felt like I just had to, but not over text. That’s why I will write this as a letter instead.

Just in case (F/N) hasn’t told you guys, I gave this letter to them the day I seemed to have vanished and asked them to keep it secret for a while. They would only be able to show it to one of you ONLY if you began wondering where I’ve gone.

So now that you’ve begun reading this, you’re probably curious. Where have I been? Why did I suddenly disappear without a trace?

First and foremost, I’m not in danger. I’m perfectly safe, and so is my family. It’s just that I’m no longer living in Inaba anymore. A few weeks ago, one of my guardians got a new job near Osaka, and we had to move so they could be closer to the workplace.

But enough about that. I didn’t write this letter only to tell you where I’ve gone. I figured I could vent out my feelings to you guys and explain how I’ve been feeling lately for the past few months.

See, when I had moved to Inaba a few months ago, I thought it would be a nice place to settle, especially since I’m an introvert. I mean, think about it. City life might sound a bit draining for someone like me, right? And I know many people here regard Inaba as a quiet place in the middle of nowhere, but I mean, I liked it! I did not hate living in the city or anything (It was nice at times, to be honest.), but I thought that living in a quieter area would also be good for me.

I had those thoughts just a few weeks after settling down here. And it took me less time to fully get comfortable. I mean, sure, it was a bit unusual to not hear many sounds in the town compared to the city, but I didn’t mind. It was nice!

But that’s where things took a not-so-great turn for me. For the next few months, I had been crying to sleep almost every night. Making sure to be as quiet as possible, I would sob non-stop in my pillow. And it would go up to the point where I just exhausted myself. At first, I thought that maybe it was just my emotions messing with me. It happens on a few occasions. I figured, if I just settle down with myself, I would feel better. That was just it, right? That I would be alright in a few days?

Yeah, no.

My usual routine of crying every night became consistent. I’m not sure if anyone was able to tell, though. I mean, I did hide the fact that I was feeling down. Around people, I didn’t act overly happy, but I didn’t act depressed either. To put it simply, I was just fine.

Right then and there, that was when I realized that maybe Inaba is not the place for me. I appreciated the quiet this town has to offer (and of course, I would never hold a grudge against this rural area). However, I just hated the silence. I guess it was making me feel more alone than I used to be for some odd reason. And usually, I’m not that bothered about being alone. Yet lately, I just hated it. I hated being in my room in all this silence.

And I know I could have told you guys about my struggles. I am NOT trying to indicate that any of you would try to ignore me (or anyone else in our friend group, really) if I was crying out for help; I know you guys would never. There was just the fear of being a burden. I know you guys have days where you’re either busy or need to deal with other personal things. I would feel bad if I ever added more to your plate. And it was also why I was so quiet whenever we hung out. I had a gut feeling that whatever I said didn’t matter.

Honestly, hearing about the fact that I was moving to Osaka, arguably one of the largest cities in Japan, did excite me a little bit. Maybe I was more accustomed to living in a city rather than a rural town.

Now that I got to say all of that, I wanted to say I’m sorry.

I know it seemed like I had no trust in you.

I know I wasn’t comfortable ranting or venting about anything to you.

I know I’ve been distant from you for the past weeks.

And I know I must have worried you when you thought I went missing.

For everything I’ve mentioned here, I’m very, very sorry.

But then again, I feel like it wouldn’t make anything much better. I know you guys probably feel like I treated you as fake friends and that I was pushing myself away from you. Hell, I bet everyone is probably mad at me. You probably have no plans on forgiving me anytime soon. I understand.

However, I also just wanted to thank you guys for being one of the best friend groups ever. I’m honestly a bit picky about the people I open up with, but you guys managed to break that wall. And for that, I am grateful. Maybe one day, I’ll talk to you guys again. And maybe, we can all hang out just like we used to. Only if you want me to, that is.

But until then, goodbye.

(Y/N).

It had officially been a week since you wrote that letter and gave it to (F/N). You had no idea if any of the Investigation Team members ever wondered where you went or if they cared at all. But chances are, they probably did not. After all, you were arguably one of the quietest members ever, so how were they supposed to know what you have been through before you moved?

Sighing, you closed the book you were reading and walked over towards the window. While your new house was still a bit farther from the city, you could still see the tall buildings from afar. Night had settled down in Japan, and the sky was pitch black while illuminated by the stars.

If there was one thing you had missed about living in the city, it was the sounds that you heard during the night. Was it loud? No. But was it dead silent? Of course not! You could almost describe it as the Goldilocks zone. Osaka was not too loud nor too silent.

After a small smile grew on your lips, you suddenly let out a yawn. It was time to sleep. You had a long day ahead of you tomorrow. So you closed the curtains of the window, walked over towards your bed, and crawled into it. From what you have noticed, you have not been crying every night as often as you used to back in Inaba. Sure, a few tears trickled here and there. But it was not up to the point where the only way you could fall asleep was by sobbing.

Osaka seemed to be the perfect place for you to live. You could only hope that your emotions will begin to improve now that you are in a city again. It was clear it was not going to happen overnight. That was for sure, but you would be patient.

Of course, you were sad that you were miles away from the Investigation Team. However, you hoped that they were doing well, wherever they were.

And you could not forget to mention that you stood by what you last said in your letter to them. Maybe one day you would have the courage to talk to them more often and hang out just like you used to.

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

Note

Lavinia angst, possibly a first kiss.

Written by @evoedbd

Part 1

WARNINGS:

Minor Violence.

Mentions of Blood.

Minor Spoilers.

Somewhat OOC.

+++++++++++++++++++

Lavinia’s words haunted Lee, echoed across the darkness. Tentative as her first step was, Lee seemingly found nothing to fear, no reason to believe her world would ever fall from beneath her. The black embodied so many things, all intrinsically understood. They spoke to Lee, singing in a language she couldn’t recollect learning, at a pitch that her ears could not physically hear, yet it resonated within her chest. The mirror was cold, somehow rubbery, as if she were stepping onto a rug of silly putty. Membrane across a throbbing answered by the heartbeat she guarded in her pocket.

Each step Lee took saw the maze fade, swept away like ink dropped into churning hot water. Floating like steam, the trees faded, swirling into the blackness surrounding. The reflections cast upon the mirror almost called, a promise of safety if Lee would only turn and run for them. A spiderweb there to catch her, should she fall. Or perhaps ensnare her in their beauty, in the beauty uncertainty could offer. Stubborn, a solitary chance for escape.

Perhaps the spiderweb was what lingered within the crystal darkness. The Blackness, Lee noticed, did not lack for light. It did not take the colour from what it reflected. Merely… color did not exist within its depths. A pure, clear darkness. A backdrop to the world, despite it being the world Lee strode upon. The centre of the mirror turned from black to frost, ice to a sorrowful field of snow. Snow fell softly, seemingly without a source for not a cloud existed. The flakes did not exist, and then they did, faster than a subconscious blink. White flakes stark against the vibrant nothingness.

The falling snow formed an informal barrier, thicker to the edges. As thick as crushed ice from the freezer which fell like stones upon Lee’s unsuspecting body. It blanketed her shoulders, falling upon them like the firm hands of some law enforcement. A warden to a prisoner, a reticent threat that misbehaviour would be punished off the books. The feeling sat heavy in Lee’s chest, even as the snow went from harsh to soft, from a vicious cry to silent tears against her tanned skin. Malevolence returned to melancholy apathy.

The spiraling storm was tamed into strands of nacreous white, cascading down the strong expanse of lissom shoulders. Even with such a willowy frame, Lavinia stood strong, too proud to let her body cave to the weakness within her heart. The weight of her bulky cloak pulled on her, held around her shoulders only by the cage of Lavinia’s clasped hand, wrapped around her tender body as if it could conceal the youthful woman, could reinforce that this was a Queen standing tall within her court. Could hide that the legend of destruction dared feel the melancholy of the pariahed existence she’d been deceitfully written into.

“Lavinia?” Lee pleaded gently, as if merely her words could destroy walls that had withstood sieges. It seemed her plea was heeded, for Lavinia’s shoulders finally fell, caving a hairs width as the Queen heaved an almighty sigh.

“You should not have come here, little Lionstar.” Lavinia whispered. Not that she need raise her voice. The world had once more fallen quiet, leaving nothing save the Queen’s quiet voice to be heard. Selfishly, Lee found herself grateful for the quiet, for she doubted her heart could have borne the weight of Lavinia’s tones had her voice been anything more. Regret tainted Lavinia’s tones, dragging the Queen to her knees without ever cowing her strong stance. Lavinia did not need to move, not with the weight of her tones betraying her. Lee could hear the broken expression she knew she’d find upon Lavinia’s face as the Queen turned to her.

The burden of immortality pulled at Lavinia’s young features. Features which had been young through too many wars. A youth stolen yet aching to break free of the chains, the weight which continued to drag on her. Even her almond shaped eyes, the sharpest aqua Lee had ever seen, seemed dulled under the shadows of her subtle brow, which had descended like stormclouds, darkened all the more by wisps of smoky eyeshadow and rebellious eyeliner. As if makeup could contain the brewing storm. It was a storm Lee had witnessed a thousand times, safe within the eye of such chaos, shielded from the worst of it even as Lavinia gushed warning after warning from full, crimson covered lips. Lips which were now so agonisingly downturned. Trembling like snow on the frail winds. Denied by the harsh set of her low sweeping jawline. Lavinia’s words of caution had always bled together in Lee’s ears, recklessly unheeded. Now, Lee understood why her body refused to listen, to accept. Nothing could have prepared Lee for what she saw. The briefest flash of hope, a lightning strike, before the skies went dull. The oceans froze. The spark extinguished.

“You shouldn’t be here either.” Lee commented, keeping her voice as quiet as Lavinia’s had been. At this, the Queen’s brow found some life, arching into a fine point as her lips twitched, a weak effort at one of her lazy smirks.

“Shouldn’t I be? Where else would I go that is safe from you?”

“Safe from me? Lavinia, we can work this out! I want-”

Before Lee could even comprehend the weight of Lavinia’s words, could complete her thought, Lavinia was there. Stalking closer, voice that same terrifyingly piercing whisper, a croon as much as a mockery.

“Me?” Lavinia’s redundant question was met with a confirming silence. Both women swallowed, staring at one another as if the other’s face might hold the answers they needed to such a potent question. Lee’s silence was deafening. The answer Lavinia sought and feared. The answer Lee herself couldn’t understand enough to give. “Of course.” The Queen nodded, turning to begin a pensive pacing with the effortless grace of a wolf closing in on unsuspecting prey.

“It always comes back to me, doesn’t it? You’ve always wanted to be close to me. I’m what the star fallen to the earth truly wants.”

“What?” Lee breathed, denial on the tip of her tongue. How Lavinia said those words. The sudden realisation dawning in her icy eyes, the raise in pitch, a note of wonder smothered beneath the derisive persona she aimed to keep so firmly in place. None of it sat well, in fact, every syllable saw Lee’s stomach tightening, a weight settling there. An uncomfortable stone she couldn’t dislodge, couldn’t ignore. All she had was the potential of denial, yet a single look from the Ice Queen killed it in Lee’s throat. Just what had Lavinia read from her eyes that had the Queen’s expression so… tormented?

“How do you want me, my little lion heart?” Lavinia seemed to beg behind her mockery, pleading the very fabric of reality for answers.

It was a flash, much like her hopes, a moment of indecision riding the undercurrents of care, and dare Lee think it, affection. A rebellious little flicker of emotion that Lavinia crushed beneath the weight of whatever burdened her so. A shift, something so very subtle yet impossible for Lee to ignore. The Queen’s shoulders straightened, loosing the lazy slouch, posture as regal as the finest paintings depicted nobility. She almost floated, every footsteps devouring the distance between her and Lee, much how the menacing slant of her lips promised Lee would find herself devoured if Lavinia’s hands landed on her. A wolf stalking an injured fawn, letting the bleeding creature escape merely for the chance to continue the hunt. The illusion of hope provided all for the predator to sweep away with an all too elegant sweep of crystalline talons.

“My weird, naive little book nerd? My star come to earth. What desire burns brighter than your senses? Who did you follow to this place where dreams fade to a nothingness to rival nightmares?” Lavinia queried scornfully, each nickname falling from her lips more potent than their potential affection. They warred, even as they fell silken from her silver tongue, a clash of everything Lee had ever known of Lavinia laid out like a white carpet, only to be lost in the snows. Lost in Lee’s growing discomfort.

“Stop.” Lee commanded, voice holding remarkably true despite how she staggered in the snow. The Queen smirked at this, wicked amusement shattering the weight of her agony for a breath. A breath stolen from Lee’s lungs as she righted herself.

“You’re acting strange, and for you that’s saying a lot.”

“Oh? Am I scaring you?” Lavinia’s ominous aura melted, warmed by an almost playful laugh low on a husky voice. A tilt of her head, mirrored in a briefly uneven slant of her shoulders. That same shift, the one that haunted Lee’s dreams. The girl who played with matches in place of Winter’s chill. How many people saw this? How many understood what they saw in such a little gesture? How many would give up their chance to put distance between themselves and the hunter to heed such a thing? How many could ignore the chill of an icy wall against their shoulders, mixed with the heat of Lavinia’s breath against their cheeks in their moment of admiration?

“Has the cowardice infecting your heart returned so suddenly?”

Had it? Lee trembled before the mystical being, trapped against a wall of ice by the mere risk of touching the Queen. Lee could break away, she could press into that unspoken space between them, challenge their roles… but she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t obey, her lungs wouldn’t take the air she desperately craved for fear her swelling breast might brush those iced furs. That she might challenge and win, might drive her Queen away. When had air become more sacrificial than Lavinia? The fear claiming her breath was not healthy. This wasn’t healthy. To be so scared to lose somebody that she chose to stifle her breath. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t let Lavinia bully her. She blinked, preparing to reclaim the space she’d forsaken, only to catch a movement in the corner of her gaze. The Rebel Queen’s hand rose, extended towards Lee’s cheek for the briefest of moments before she froze. Winter in the Queen’s veins held her captive, the clarity of her vision disrupted by the gasp of the star within her snare. Once more, the monarch seemed to have found herself at odds, fingers curling on air less she foolishly offer affection. Less she reach for the warmth of a tanned cheek, or the softness of sun bleached curls. She swallowed; a gesture which looked as painful as forcing knives down the exposed column of her pale throat.

“I thought you had grown beyond that.” Nothing could have hidden the note of melancholy within Lavinia’s voice. Not her attempts at a sneer, not the chill of her magic touching where her hand dared not. Once more, her magic picked at Lee, little rodent claws tugging on the girl’s flesh. Punishing Lee for Lavinia’s hesitance. The girl bristled, brows furrowing as she inspected Lavinia’s face, close enough she could see the snowflakes powered in the Queen’s lashes.

“You don’t get to punish me because you’re scared. You’re the one who ran away.” She gently challenged; caution lost to the rise of heat in her chest. Her heart thumped rebelliously, warming her to the tips of her fingers. Lee averted her gaze, not for fear of Lavinia’s, but to the Queen’s hand. A hand still raised, curled into that image of forlorn restraint. A hand that struck out, accompanied by nothing more but a harsh breath, nails biting into the ice beside Lee’s head, shattering the wall so violently that Lee staggered. The human winced as she came down amidst the rubble, back bent across the misshapen bricks, knees caught over the rise. It was then the Queen dared touch, the wrath of winter empowering her as those icy talons sunk through the material of Lee’s tie, through her shirt. The Queen hauled Lee from her feet, effortlessly holding the shorter girl aloft in the grasp of her plagued vehemence.

“You dare speak to me this way? As if you know me oh so well? Do you even know who it is you have chased to this place?”

There it was. The lava beneath the icy surface. Lee could only stare, trying to decipher the snarling beast before her. The violence of the gesture should have frightened Lee. Should have had the girl scrambling in panic within the monster’s grasp. Grovelling for her life. Yet, Lavinia’s tone was so level, a practiced tune disguised in vicious resplendence. Her intent was intimidation, yet her hand was so steady, the brush of her knuckles against Lee’s collar so cautious. How could a monster hold such caution, have such awareness to disguise that caution? Swallowing, Lee knew the answer. It couldn’t. That meant this was Lavinia, not some creature replacing her. However far removed from the nihilist rebel, this was Lavinia. This beast did not need to be deciphered, for Lee already knew her. Lee held her heart, she had for nearly 18 years. A heart that had been broken, raped and violated by betrayals of lust and logic. A heart kept in pieces by worlds conspiring… a heart that rebelled against the chance that it might be loved in return. Lavinia had to prove herself the monster. She had to prove she could hurt Lee, that she could kill Lee. She had to be strong enough, to drive everyone away, keep them out and away from the chasm her heart had left… But she couldn’t let Lee get away. Couldn’t let the girl go, couldn’t keep her close, couldn’t love but couldn’t stop her heart’s betrayal within her own torn chest. She was burning the possibility of a relationship at the stake, assassinating the goodwill between them, anything to keep Lee’s hands from her soul… all the while putting her soul in Lee’s waiting hands. She was doing what she always did when her wounds were laid bare, lashing out, defending by driving all those nearby away. Then she would never be hurt again, or worse, come to depend on another. She wanted Lee to run, wanted Lee to be terrified of her… Lee refused to rise to the bait, choosing to speak soothingly, to gently lay her hand over Lavinia’s.

“You’re acting as if you’re two different people, Lavinia.”

Lavinia’s eyes widened, realising what she had done, what her explosiveness had almost cost her. She’d almost failed to succeed, yet succeeded to fail. It was Lavinia’s turn to tremble, to freeze and think, to process what this foolish girl within her grasp was doing. It was so typical of Lee, to respond to cruelty with determined kindness, to risk herself to see Lavinia’s heart defrost. Even a few droplets from the ice encasing her seemed worth everything to Lee, the foolish girl, the star fallen to earth. The girl who tasted of magic and mortality, without ever having been beneath Lavinia’s tongue. The girl who changed the very air around her, who accepted and welcomed Lavinia, who actively sought the lonely monarch out. Lee was… too good. Too pure. Yet, she fell from grace to shine into Lavinia’s torment. Sacrificed for the damned. Once, Lavinia had believed that because Lee was unable to see the damnation. Now, she fearfully suspected Lee saw her darnation better than any mortal ever had. Saw it, considered it, then chose to ignore it. Lavinia couldn’t make her see, couldn’t drive this fool away, even as she threatened to tear her open. Even as she threatened life and limb. Oh, what crimes had she committed to earn the loyalty of such a beautiful soul? What had she done to deserve the torment of destroying the star laying herself in winter’s palms?

Quietly, Lavinia placed Lee back upon her feet, smoothed her tie down as best she could, wilfully ignoring the fuzzy bloom of icy magic across the bars of navy, white and red. Lee followed suit, forcing her gaze to remain on Lavinia’s, to ignore the reflection of magic across Lavinia’s revealing eyes.

“So, who is it you want, Lee?” Lavinia’s question was accompanied by the gentlest of winds. As if made of powder, her illustrious gown fell away, delicately crumbling to reveal the rebellious image Lee was so familiar with. Her breath caught in her chest, bubbling into a stuttered sigh in her tightened throat. The familiar figure still existed, still fought for some prominence in the picture. The relaxed nihilist. The rebel. The Lavinia of Whitehorn.

This Lavinia was so flowing, so free within the confinements she rebelled against. The crisp lines of a dark blazer somehow accentuated the slope of her shoulders, uneven due to a lazy half slouch. Ever the rebel, the blazer’s sleeves didn’t cover finely veined forearms, scrunched subtly at the elbows, leaving the jangling armor of a dozen fine bangles protecting Lavinia’s left forearm. A hand tucked into the pocket of dark blue shorts; waistband half concealed by a partially untucked university t-shirt. White and green, hopeful and bright amidst the dark shades whilst remaining complimentary. The lower one eyes wondered, the more tattered cloth they could find, with torn fishnets on proud display, leading right to decorative combat boots. White, with the most elegant, elaborate swirls of dark greys and blacks forming the gothic flowers.

“Is it the mysterious girl in the hallways? A stray creature to be tamed? The girl who will share stories with you? The cliche romanticism of the rebel only the good girl can draw a smile from? The bad girl you can redeem?”

Lavinia moved as if nothing could contain her, relaxed ease as she began to circle. Lee didn’t dare turn her head to follow, not with Lavinia’s words washing over her. Not with the lazy brushes of touch. A shoulder skimming hers, the soft jangle along with the gentle sting of cool metal against burning flesh, a lazy hand across her back, teasing at the ends of her wild hair. A suggestive finger running the length of Lee’s blazer pocket. Subtle touches given by a creature who cared not who watched her commit such acts. Lee could only follow with her eyes, turning her head only to hear the Queen’s soft musings. The rare occasions Lavinia came into Lee’s view inspired hope. The Rebel’s face was relaxed, lips in that unaffected, not quite a smile she so often gifted Lee. Those cusps of vulnerability that could grow if only Lavinia cared enough to let them.

“Do you want to save me?”

“Lavinia…” Lee sighed, closing her eyes as Lavinia’s hand touched her shoulder, her hand wondering dangerously close to Lee’s throat, her hip brushing into the small of Lee’s back. Lee had to clench her teeth, momentarily breathe to centre herself. Why was every goddamn fairy-tale, magical being so fixated on this goddamn saviour complex? All this, she can never have her heart back, and beware the wicked Queen, who constantly was trying to warn Lee away. Beware the big bad wolf, less his broody pout and gorgeous eyes rip your throat out. Cautious be thee about the Darkwood Witches, less you turn to a toad. Praise be Prince Charming, maidens beware, less his extreme levels of gay leave your hearts broken and your brothers never the same. Truthfully, Lee was so damn tired about it all. The dehumanisation even the magical beings themselves engaged in towards themselves. How people kept casting rolls of hero and villain. What was wrong with wanting to restore Lavinia’s heart and hold the woman close, instead of trying to hurt her? What was wrong with wanting coffee with Ezra, or laughing at how Lucas flustered her brother? What was wrong with wanting to save her friends? To love them as people, not archetypes.

“Or is it the Ice Queen? The cold beauty of Winter?” It took Lavinia’s sneer to break Lee from her musings. She was aware of a soft pressure against the back of her neck that roused her, a thumb just beneath the hairline that promised to soothe all the tension. Something that left Lee pliant.

In an unsteady blink, that thumb slid from neck to jugular, teasing over Lee’s hammering pulse as icy talons dug into her tender flesh. The Queen’s fingers spread, stretched to encompass the hinge of Lee’s jaw, claws drawing blood to the surface just as the Queen’s thumb had. A soft hiss escaped Lee, melting into a confused whimper as Lavinia’s grip tightened, as her thumb brushed the length of Lee’s jaw to rest under her chin. Lee was helpless, pulled back into the Queen’s mass by a second hand curled over her ribcage. With the wall of Lavinia’s body curled around her back, Lee could only surrender to the threat, let herself swoon into Lavinia’s hold to avoid those lethal claws. The warmth of Lavinia’s palm against her throat helped sooth the ache of bending her head back. She swallowed, realising all too swiftly the level of danger she was in. She understood now why Lavinia’s hand was light and relaxed, following the movement of Lee’s stuttered breaths. Lavinia didn’t need to use force. Not when her nails were hypodermic needles poised to turn into knives if Lee moved even an inch out of place. Not when a single unexpected move would have those claws claiming her lifeblood. They’d see her drained, staining the snow, falling to her knees at Lavinia’s feet as nothing more than a corpse. A distraction removed. Even the act of breathing felt tight in her chest; every breath threatening to push her lungs into those talons. Just as every erratic beat of her pulse pushed her skin further onto those sharp fingers, a string beneath a musician’s bow, vibrating and throbbing. Each thump of her pulse against those claws had a droplet of blood weeping through. Every beat after only felt as if daring those icy points deeper as it leapt to greet them. She knew her skin must be blanched beneath the pressure of Lavinia’s grasp, that soon the droplets of blood gathering would begin to trickle down her jaw, if they didn’t freeze. Yet, she didn’t panic. She refused to. But stars above, was it torture to hold herself so still in the cage of Lavinia’s potentially deadly grasp.

“The villainous thief of the young and jaded? She who took a kingdom, who turned the desert to tundra at a whim? I took a kingdom from Greed! I carved myself a destiny greater than any dared imagine! Men tremble at the whisper of my name; my title ensnares even the boldest heart. Tell me, Lee, could you endure hearing the tales of my darkest deeds? Could you stomach what I did to those who stole my innocence? To those who betrayed me?” Lavinia punctuated her question with a subtle squeeze, tightening her fingers over the bone of Lee’s jaw. Forcing the girl to look directly into her eyes.

“You’re scaring me.” Lee whispered. A confession torn from her with another squeeze. Nobility sharpened Lavinia’s features; Lee noticed. As if the tightened muscles of her jaw concealed the blunter angles, drawing attention to her pert nose. A nose which drew a little closer to Lee’s, bringing Lavinia’s lips almost to the girl’s cheeks as she spoke.

“You should be afraid. The story I shared is truth. I could freeze you so suddenly your body would continue to walk, unbeknownst your life was mine.”

Oh. Lee believed it. With the look in Lavinia’s eyes, Lee couldn’t do anything but believe every word, every syllable, with every fibre of her being.

The magic within Lavinia seemed to cause her to glow, bringing an intensity to her eyes that left Lee speechless. They were alive. Hungry and devouring, promising a million things, not a single one that the victim of such a gaze would live to speak of. What use were unimaginable pleasures to the dead, afterall? More terrifyingly, such a gaze could make one want to be that corpse for a chance to see the emptiness hiding in the shadows filled. To see what softness might appear in a moment sated. What was missing, Lee saw, was the quiet of remorse. The quiet longing. The Queen’s eyes were so loud, so active in their emotions, providing not a single one was beyond the moment. A creature of whim, only, Lavinia had a mind that planned across decades.

Lee believed. She believed everything Lavinia had told her. Everything the Queen had tried to explain. It thrummed beneath her skin, spilling over onto the points of Lavinia’s summoned claws. Claws which, despite the ease at which they could tear her apart, had only touched. Only scraped at her ribs instead of digging in. Magic, which had turned a maze into horrors, that only moved to intimidate. Lee believed Lavinia when she claimed herself dangerous, but there was something Lee believed in more than threats.

“But you won’t.”

“Won’t I?” The Queen laughed. This was a different laugh. This one was not for Lee’s antics, not to mock or play a role. This laugh seemed heavier, burdened. A laugh for her own foolishness. A laugh at her own expense.

“I do not command my magic as others do. It yearns to reclaim what was stolen. I long for my heart to be complete again, Lee, and your very life prevents that. I should not care for it as I do...”

Heat burned through Lee, white hot in her chest as she threw herself to the wolves. Furiously, she turned in Lavinia’s grasp, scarcely registering how swiftly Lavinia’s hands reared back from her in favor of delivering her defence in the most scotching tone.

“That doesn’t make you evil, Lavinia! You...”

“I’m… what?” Lavinia’s intensity drove the air from Lee’s lungs. A single whispered question, caressed between downturned lips was enough to fill a void. To still Lee’s very heart for a painful second, before it began to race. What could she do with this? The intensity in Lavinia’s pale blue eyes, the almost white gleam of her hair framing an expression of perfect longing.

“Am I the girl you’re so invested in saving, or the Queen you must flee lest she reclaim her heart at the cost of yours?”

It was a question delivered so softly one might mistake it for freshly falling snow. No magical flares or grand gestures. Even Lavinia’s voice held nothing save her trembling. Trembling she couldn’t let reach her body, even as she reaches out to brush a few erratic strands of hair from Lee’s face. A simple, quiet gesture, no theatrics accompanying her final plea.

“Tell me. Who do you see?”

#anonymous #answered #lovestruck #lovestruck fanfiction #ever after academy #eaa #eaa lavinia #lavinia x mc #lavinia le guin #lovestruck lavinia #ever after academy lavinia #angst #angsty #woeful wednesday

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