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unconventional-lawnchair · 1 month

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We'll heal together: Chapter Two

I'll Look After You The Fray

Harry Potter x Reader (Platonic) / Alastor Moody x Reader (Platonic) / Peter Pettigrew x Reader (Platonic) / Sirius Black x Reader (Ambiguous-Past)

Masterlist

Summary: {Y/N} {L/N} makes her first appearance, as dreams haunt her day-to-day life. Harry finds out more about her, after a run in with Draco.

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, grief, sad Harry times, wizard slurs, discussion of death and betrayal, reader in pain, mild descriptions of panic, friendship with peter (I am so sorry) (please reach out if I missed something}

Wc- 4349

“Get up! To your feet!” Alastor Moody’s voice boomed through the empty clearing behind the Potter’s manor. It was cold, the sun had yet to rise and the bellowing voice could be heard echoing off the trees that encased them.

“Get up, a death eater won't let you take your beauty rest!” Moody barked and sent another spell beside your feet to make you flinch.

You were shaky, weary to gather yourself off the slightly moist morning grass. You were lucky he had allowed you to change into proper dueling gear, Mad-Eye had woken you up mere moments ago and dragged you down the stairs for a surprise training session. You were upset, at first, of course you were, who in their right mind wakes up at 3am to drag their apprentice down the steps to TRAIN? You knew he had been at work for the ministry for the last week, your training with him becoming scarce, as he picked up on a lead of one of the Death Eater's new targets. You wanted to be mad, the first time you saw him in days and he was forcing you awake and into the bathroom to get ready for a rather brutal duel. You really wanted to be mad.

That was, until you heard what Mad-eye had gone through. He was a tough nut to crack, and when he loved, he loved hard. So when Albus mentioned in passing about the scene he walked in on, the very family he was sent to protect. Parents, both muggleborns who were outspoken about Voldemort and the death eaters, having been found in their bed without ever reaching their wands, you understood what this was about.

You could play along with this for now, knowing the comfort it would bring him far outweighed your cranky demeanor. He never said it, but you knew how terribly each failed job affected him. He was Alastor Moody for Merlin’s sake! He was known for his skill, his witt, his power. A fiercely loyal Hufflepuff, with the attitude to match it. His reputation was his downfall, however. Such high expectations to meet, and when he failed on something as simple as just missing an attack by mere hours, there was nothing he could do. Nothing outside of making sure his successor KNEW better, could DO better and would BE better. This was war, and with a mentor who is more than anything you could ever wish for, you were grateful. Even more so that he cared enough to do this.

You drew your wand, hands tightening around the base as you raised yourself to your feet, thumb rubbing the blood from your cut lip before sending a few sharp spells his way, each he deflected.

“Sloppy! Run it again!” He demanded as you began to breathe heavier. You rolled your shoulders and snapped your wrist to send a few more spells his way. Tightening his lips into a firm frown he sent them back ten fold. You were just barely able to pull up your shield. Your limbs were aching, your throat was dry, you were sweating and the feeling of the burning sun rising meant you had been at this for hours now. “Moody, I’m exhausted.” You tried to placate him.

“Quicker! Your movement is off. You'll get your whole group killed!” He spat and sent a few more spells towards you that you more easily flicked away. Seems he wouldn't be listening to reason. “Lock your wrist! Loosen your hand!”

“That doesn't even make sense! Do you want me to drop my wand?” You teased lightheartedly, smirking as he leaned forward on the base of the tree behind him. You quickly shot a spell to his feet. “Scourgify!”

Before he could even scold you for your aim he was startled by the spell. Looking down as bubbles and suds slowly gathered and grew at his ankles. “What's this? Going to defeat your enemy with some bubbles? Come off it!” He tutted before his frown grew deeper. “This isn't a joke, Vixen!” He bellowed, not noticing the gleam in your eyes.

You smirked before you sent a sharp and quick, “Depulso!” To send him slipping back and landing on his bum. Much like a muggle cartoon character. Quickly accio’ing his wand and holding it up in victory.

Distant cheers sent a shiver down your spine, eyes shooting over to the hill. There they were, Peter and Lily, gathered at the top, coming down with what seemed to be a thermal cup and some wrapped up pastries. You hadn't even noticed your stomach aching.

You looked at Mad-Eye with a hopeful smile, he gave you a firm studying look before he huffed and waved his hand to dismiss you, still gathering himself. You lit up and tossed him his wand before meeting your two friends half way.

“Here, some tea.” Lily mused and handed you the cup. You opened it and took a few quick sips, made just how you like it. Lily knew you better than anyone. “Lily, my love, the light of my life, tell me again why you are with Potter of all the people in the world?”

Lily gave a faux sigh of disappointment, “Well, my dear friend, it seems that I have a type I like to keep around.” She tutted and you tilted your head much like a crup. “Absolute lunatics. Where were you off to so early in the morning? Was it just to train?” She tried to reprimand you and you put your hands up in defense.

“I am a victim here! Do not scold me!” You chirped and Lily threw her head back in a laugh as Alastor walked passed you three and muttered praise you were just unable to understand.

“Was it fruitful at least?” Peter spoke up, you looked up to him and nodded with a brighter smile. “Now, I know why I am up, and I know that Lily likely was up before me-”

“Untrue!” She chimed in, making you giggle.

“But why are you up, Peter? You need your rest, you have a mission today.” You scolded and Peter gave a small smile and shrugged. “You were up.” He muttered as if that was the only reason he would ever need to do something. Peter had always been like this, just to appease people. But since school, you and him have been rather close. You two had shared plenty of solo missions and adventures, he always had your back and you his. Moody didn't particularly like him, thought he was a coward, so when you two were chosen as partners, he nearly blew his top off. You didn't feel the need to explain yourself, Peter would always have your trust. Something your childhood best friend, James Potter, constantly complained about, how you always took his side between the two. To be fair, Peter may have stolen your trust, but Potter did plan to marry your best friend. So you two could call it even.

You closed your eyes softly and enjoyed the warmth that filled you with their voices. The idle chatter slowly faded out, leaving just a small bit of ringing to your ears.

The ringing grew louder and louder, before it was overwhelming.

Suddenly, your eyes snapped open as the alarm clock on your bedside table went off. You groan out loud, covering your face with both hands before you slam down on the mute button. “Bloody hell! I was so close to figuring out what that damn dream is about!” You laid in the bed for a moment before flailing your arms about in pure frustration. “Ugh!!”

Jumping out of bed and meandering over to look at the full length mirror, gazing at yourself before sighing. Those dreams.. they were becoming too vivid. You swore you could feel the cut on your lip and the pain of your battered limps. You needed to know what sparked this creative spunk in your mind. Creating a loose narrative with so much intensity and detail. A wizarding world? Spells and charms? Even full fledged characters? You had never been an overly obsessive person, but those dreams, they felt warm. They felt safe in a way you had never felt before. They felt like a piece of you, almost like home, and even if your current friends said it was likely nothing, you still felt so much longing for the faces you saw when you closed your eyes. Maybe that's why you couldn't ignore it.

You shook the thoughts away and hummed, grabbing yourself a change of clothes and hurrying off to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Once you had finished getting ready, you put on a simple outfit, just a tank top and some jeans. Walking down the stairs from your suite above the shop, you slipped on a deep rich brown apron, tying it around your hips before glancing at a dark window and gathering your hair up into a newsboy cap. It was the easiest way to keep the cleaners and special concoctions made to keep each flower bundle alive and well, out of your hair, and in turn your pillows. Sending your reflection a wink and a pair of finger guns you wolf whistled as if you were checking yourself out.

You wandered behind the register and began to set up for the day. Your ears began to burn at the sound of scratching at the back door. You lit up, turning sharply on your heels and walking over. You opened it and a silver tabby dashed inside. You cooed and gushed at her, closing the door behind you as you followed the feline.

She jumped onto the cash register and then to the counter before looking back at you.

“Awe, Glasses! I missed you, where have you been?” You continue to coo, as you go back to work. Glasses had made it clear early on she did not want to be pet, and she seemed well groomed and maintained, so you assumed she belonged to one of the neighbors. She was an absolute darling. She had these strange square-like markings around her eyes that made them look like she was wearing spectacles, and thus, with no other leads to go on, her name was Glasses.

“You know, I’ve had more dreams,” You spoke up to the cat, waving your hand in a dismissive way, despite how they were eating you alive from the inside out. “About this fantastical world, and people I don't even know. I mean, truly, who named their child Moody? Alastor Moody?”

You continued your rant about the dreams you had. You loved your friends, the ones you met after moving to this small town, but it seemed the stories you told them began to go on deaf ears. You couldn't exactly blame them, who wanted to listen to such a random bunch of tales? The same ones you told them about a million times before? So having Glasses, who only seemed to sit around and enjoy the fauna, unable to stop your rambles, was therapeutic to rant to. “And, in my dream, I saw the boy again. Peter? Long blonde hair and chubby cheeks, when he walked down the hill I swear I could feel his hugs. You know that kind of person? Just an absolute power house of comfort.” You clicked your tongue before you lit up. Speaking of comfort. “Oh! Oh! And Lily, such pretty eyes, she made me tea. I could practically taste it! I feel like I’m going mad, Glasses! I care so much for them, these imaginary figures.”

Glasses laid across the counter in a relaxed way, eyes trained on you as you spoke. Like a little person.

“And I feel so empty when I wake up. Like something that once filled my chest is torn from me. I learned so much of that world, sometimes I want to stay asleep for days just to see them. To talk to them. As if I know them deep down.” You sighed and shook your head. “I truly am going mad. They feel like family. At least, that's what I think it would feel like.”

A loud meow sounded out in the room as the bell above the shop door chimed, you snapped your head up from where you were pruning a few flowers, smiling sweetly at one of the many regulars.

So the work day begins.

~~ Harry’s POV ~~

Harry had been on edge for days now. Since the fat lady was attacked, the conversation between Dumbledore and Snape, and then the Quidditch game, he was tired of waiting around like a sitting duck.

He didn’t want to feel so reliant on anyone, even the Headmaster, waiting around for the next bit of news he would give him so graciously. So, after a failed escape attempt and being nabbed by the twins, he found himself in Hogsmeade under the protection of his invisibility cloak, with the Marauders map tucked under his arm.

“A bit grand for you, don't you think, Weasel-Bee?” Draco’s voice filled the clearing just a few meters away from the Shrieking Shack. Harry gave a low groan at the sound, turning down a small path he was lingering by, around the exit of Hogsmeade.

“Oh, not very friendly I see.” His voice continued and Harry swore his eyes had never rolled harder in his head. Even his voice brought hives up his neck, he wondered when Malfoy would be hitting puberty, considering his voice still resembled that of a shrill child.

“I think it's time we teach them to respect their superiors!” Malfoy sneered, a smirk taking his lips before Hermione scoffed.

As he got closer, he could make out the figures standing by the fence. As he suspected, Malfoy, his goons, Ron and Hermione.

“I truly hope you don't mean yourself!” She clapped back, stepping in front of Ron as Malfoy ground his teeth and leaned forward. “How DARE you speak to me? You filthy little Mudblood-”

Harry had long since heard enough, gathering some snow in his hands before he chucked it at the spoiled boy, knocking him right on his head. Huh.. maybe he should have been a chaser, he thought cheekily. Much more luck with his muggle given gift of ‘mess around and find out.’

Then absolute panic ensued. Harry made a point to make an absolute fool of the boys, before they were sent running with the sound of Hermione’s laughter and Ron’s confused sounds and squeaks following behind them.

Ron’s face twisted to pure panic as one of his hat’s tassels were toyed with, making Hermione laugh harder. Her lips curled downwards as she attempted to hide her smile as her hair was lifted up above her head. “Harry!” She whined in delight and Harry laughed. Absolutely thrilled he managed to make her smile after such a horrible insult.

He threw the cloak off and Ron groaned. “Bloody hell Harry! That was not funny!” He tried to scold but it came out as more of a whine. He pouted as the other two continued to giggle and shake their heads. There was so much aching joy in his chest he couldn't help it. This is what this year should have been about.

~~~

As they walked through the alleys of Hogsmeade, Harry found himself zoning out. Not that he didn't enjoy his friends' presence, far from it actually, it brought him enough peace and calm to be able to fully remove himself into his thoughts. He knew they would still be there when he came back to. He felt safety with the two, safety he had not felt since the night he heard Sirius Black made it into Hogwarts. He was knocked out of his thoughts as he heard that name but aloud, Sirius Black. His head snapped over to look at the Hogshead’s door, seeing two people he did not recognize mention the escaped convict. “Why would Sirius Black be here?” He heard the owner nagging, before the Minister leaned into her ear, and not at all softly spoke his name to her. “Harry Potter.”

“Harry potter?” She gasped and the minister shushed her.

This was his chance! His chance to finally be ahead of it all, to know even a small bit of what Dumbledore knew, what everyone but him seemed to know.

Hermione frowned as she watched the interaction. Seeing the lady lead Hagrid, McGonagall, and the minister into the pub. “Harry don't you dare-”

“A bit late, aren't ya?” Ron spoke up and Hermione looked between them to see Harry had already disappeared, met with Ron’s smirking face instead. She gave Ron a frown and he shrugged.

“And WHY didn't you stop him?” Hermione scoffed and Ron simply looked over and watched his footprints lead into the Hogshead. “Was I meant to?”

Hermione groaned. “Harry!”

But her words fell on deaf ears.

Harry shoved himself into the pub and up after the four who made it upstairs. Sneaking into the room right behind Madam Rosmerta, finding himself a corner to lurk in as they spoke to one another. His breathing was heavy but concealed by the space he made between himself and them assisted by the cloth blocking his lips.

“Now!” Rosmerta groaned and turned to the other three in the room. “Tell me what this is all about.” She huffed and walked to the center, looking down at McGonagall as she sat and fixed her robes.

“Well,” The professor spoke up and Harry almost held his breath as if he could hear her better. “You remember, years ago, when Harry Potter’s parents realized they were marked for death and they went into hiding?” She declared and crossed her legs, gesturing for Rosmerta to sit with her, the girl shook her head, too wound up. The professor nodded and continued. “The only two who knew about their whereabouts, {Y/N} {L/N} and Sirius Black acting as their secret keepers.”

Rosmerta nodded and narrowed her eyes slightly at her when she continued. “After {Y/N} {L/N}’s death, when You-Know-Who found them, we could only assume one person had done it. Sirius Black had sold out Lily and James.” She declared this new revelation.

Harry’s eyes widened and his breath hitched in his throat. What? His parents trusted him? Sirius Black? And there was that named again, {Y/N} {L/N}. Those two names, his parents trusted them, deeply, and Lupin spoke so highly of her. What had happened? He narrowed his eyes as if seeing them better would allow him to understand what they were saying.

Rosmerta tutted, rolling her tongue in disgust. “Weren’t Sirius and that girl engaged? If he was the rat that had been betraying them, how would {L/N} have not known?”

“It was mere days after! All three of their deaths,” The professor announced. “Not even a week after they both became their secret keepers, {Y/N} was found dead by Dumbledore, Sirius almost lost it. Her and Mary's hideout had also been completely ransacked, that's where they found Mary MacDonald, you know.” She wagged her finger. “Unfortunately, {Y/N} never shared who her secret keeper was, and they never revealed themselves, so we could only assume-”

“Sirius Black sold out his Fiance!?” Rosmerta declared in a horrified gasp.

“Ex-Fiance, but yes, that is the running theory.” McGonagall spoke in a low and patient tone. Almost as if she didn't quite believe herself. “They broke the engagement off a year before everything happened, just a few months after Harry was born.”

“So, a scorned lover?” Rosmerta tried to pry and the professor held her hand up and shook her head.

“Could we please get back to the point at hand?” The minister nagged from where he stood by the fireplace, done with what seemed to be schoolgirl gossip. “Not only did Sirius Black lead him to the Potters’ that night, but he also killed Peter Pettigrew!” She proclaimed and threw his hands in the air.

“He killed Peter Pettigrew?” Rosmerta gasped and McGonagall raised her hands before she let them clap down on her lap. “Yes! The little lump of a boy! Always trailing after James and the others!”

“Well, what happened?” Rosmerta pushed as the Minister shook his head and walked over to grab a drink from across the room, mere inches away from Harry as he began to hyperventilate.

“Well that night, Peter Pettigrew? He would have gone to warn the Potters! If he didn't run into Sirius Black.” She waved her hand in exacerbation.

“Black was vicious, he didn't just kill Peter, he destroyed him.” The minister dramatized. “All that was left… was his finger!” He mused and walked back to the group of people gathered by the couch.

“And Black, he may not have lifted his wand to the Potters but he’s the reason that they are dead.” The professor chimed in and Rosmerta gave a scandalized sound.

“And what's worse!”

“It gets worse?”

“Sirius Black was, and still remains to this day, Harry Potter’s Godfather!” She stated, making Rosmerta gasp.

“No.”

Harry saw the vision around his eyes grow blurry, his breath growing more erratic as he stepped back. Sharply turning to leave, before Hagrid stood up and walked to the door. He cursed internally, Merlin Hagrid! You bloody mess! MOVE!

He stumbled back and slipped down to the floor. Hugging his knees as he tried to settle himself before anyone noticed.

“That is why the dementors are everywhere. I do find it unfortunate, and I am deeply sorry for their transgressions in Hogsmeade itself. You know, however, just how important it is to keep Harry Potter safe.” The Minister spoke and Harry buried his face in his knees. He felt every single word like it was a knife to his chest. His father has trusted him, that man that had betrayed so many people who could have been his family, his own! To know now that other people were still suffering, not just because of Black, but to protect him? Guilt filled his chest and leaked out with the tears that tried to soak his cheeks.

“That being said, I believe there are other matters to speak to.” The Minister mused and nodded to Minerva who stood. “Just a moment, Minister. I know you came to speak on the complaints with the residents, but I have something to speak with you about. It's rather important, and it just can't wait.”

“Very well, McGonagall.” The Minister mused and turned to face her, hands on his hips. “But do make it quick.”

“I will, Rosmerta? Hagrid? A moment please?” She mused and the other two nodded. Rosmerta shared a look with the professor before leaving, shuffling past Hagrid who squeezed his way to the door.

“I’ll be waitin’ for ya’ by the door Professor.” Hagrid declared with a bright smile and she returned it.

“I will be down soon, Professor.” She returned and Hagrid lit up, stumbling over his words in a fluster and hurrying out the door. Walking away before he quickly hurried back with a spill of apologies and actually closed the door this time.

Minerva shared a look with the minister who stifled a chuckle. “Now, what is it, McGonagall?”

“Well, as you know, I have been checking on our… Vixen.” McGonagall mused and put her hands to her hip with a click of her tongue. The Minister’s eyebrows raised before he suddenly remembered, not everything about the story they had told was entirely true.

“Right, right, our Vixen. Now, how is the old girl doing?”

“She’s remembering things. She remembers Peter, Lily. Merlin, she remembers Moody!” She waved her hands and the Minister nodded thoughtfully.

“Ah, I see..” He mumbled. “That puts us in quite the predicament.”

Harry felt his ears burn, focusing on their voices to keep himself sane and silent in the room. Trying not to choke out his sobs as he shook his head.

“Truly. She thinks them to be dreams right now, but who's to say it will be kept that way?” Minerva sighed. “It's only a matter of time before she remembers it all.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I need your permission, but I would like to ask Dumbledore to undo the Obliviate spell on her.”

“Hm..” He mumbled and narrowed his eyes at the fire and there was a moment of silence before he spoke up. “A horrible time, truly.”

“Why is that, minister?”

“Then, it wouldn't just be Harry in danger, would it be?” He tutted and Minerva paused before she slowly nodded. “And who's to say she wouldn't try to stake her claim over Harry?” he mused and Minvera gave a long sigh.

��Is she much worse than that horrid house he stays at now?” She tried to argue and the minister shook his head.

“I haven't a clue about his home life.” He lied. “But, she was presumed dead. She is no longer his Godmother, she has none of those rights. Especially if she returns,”

Harry’s eyes widened and he covered his mouth. Godmother? He had a Godmother out there too? And she was Obliviated? He didn't want to hear another word. He was confused, scared, he wanted to get away. To wallow in his own emotions in peace. To release the lump in his throat that was threatening to asphyxiate him.

He stood to his feet and rushed out of the building, shoving past patrons who couldn't see him. Right past Hermione and Ron. He needed to get away.

Eventually he made it to a clearing and doubled over, holding his sides as he leaned on his knees and let out a wail. It was, not as he suspected, silent and painful to his lungs and throat. He lost his breath but no real sound left him. A noise that resembled more Scrabbers than a human, he squealed. Then, as his soft sobs took over, he heard footsteps behind him.

And there they were, Ron and Hermione, just like they always were.

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veeagainsttheday · 9 months

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Two lines from OFMD s2 have been rotating around in my head for the last few weeks.

The first is from s2e3, when Ed is speaking with Hornigold about his sandals, and Hornigold tells him that he always has to have an angle. Ed responds by saying, ‘Nah, mate, I’m actually just a very simple man’ before sharing his thoughts about opening an inn.

The second is in s2e7, after Ed left Stede, when Stede and Izzy are in Jackie’z. Izzy says to Stede, ‘You know what he did when I told him I loved him? He shot me,’ as Stede says, ‘He shot you. I know.’ Izzy continues, ‘He’s a complicated man.’ Stede doesn’t respond; they look at each other for a moment and then the scene ends.

First of all - that line of Izzy’s about Ed shooting him when Izzy told Ed he loved him makes me want to start ripping my hair out in frustration. Ed shot Izzy when Izzy announced in front of the crew that vibes were bad because of Ed’s feelings for Stede Bonnet. Ed responded to Izzy saying he loved Ed by making a noise of disgust and walking out of the conversation. So it’s fascinating that Izzy has reframed the event in this way (and not the first time we hear him reframe it - as he tells Lucius a shark took his leg). Stede obviously heard that Ed shot Izzy (he says, ‘shooting people’s legs off’ in the list of reasons why Ed’s in the sackcloth at the start of s2e5), but we have no idea where he heard it from or who told him why. The way he says, ‘I know,’ to Izzy in s2e7 gives me the impression that he’s heard Izzy say it a number of times - he sounds weary. I’m guessing Ed’s never told Stede what really happened, nor any of the crew who witnessed it. But if I could ask the writers about one line from s2, I really think this would be it - I just don’t know how to interpret it (and if anyone has any ideas, I’d love to hear them below!).

Anyway. Back to those two lines. Ed says he’s ‘actually just a very simple man’ in response to being misunderstood by Hornigold (actually his own self-consciousness). For two seasons, Ed’s been attempting to communicate that he’s got a simple, reasonable desire to retire from a dangerous, violent career and be with the man he loves. Izzy’s response has been to deny Ed that, to call Ed insane, try to keep him in piracy by whatever means he can, and of course try to get Stede killed. By the time Ed’s in the gravy basket, he’s arguing even in his own head that he’s a simple man, with a simple desire for the future.

Then we come to s2e7, and Izzy still doesn’t get it. He still thinks Ed is a complicated man, he still thinks Ed is acting in a way that doesn’t make sense or requires some convoluted explanation. It’s notable to me that Stede doesn’t agree - we know from s2e3 (and, ya know, the rest of the show) that Stede understands Ed deeply. Then I think about Ed talking to the ‘wolf’ in s2e4 - ‘It’s a very rare thing to find someone who understands you,’ he says, tears in his eyes, obviously missing Stede but also - fuck, man, that scene with the rabbit is so funny but makes me so sad for Ed, because he really does have a pretty simple desire and he’s spent months - implied years - being told that he’s crazy for having it.

#ofmd meta #ofmd s2 meta #ofmd s2 #edward teach #edward teach meta

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mononijikayu · 3 months

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love of my life — geto suguru.

When Geto Suguru walked through the door, you felt your breath catch. He looked both familiar and distant, the lines of weariness etched deeper than you remembered. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. He was still the man you loved and the man that broke your heart—he was everything to you and he was nothing all at once. And you wished, you wished you could decide what he was, truly.

Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse (Modern Day)

Warning/s: Actors AU!, Romance, Actors in Love, Secret Romance Trope, Co-workers In Love, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Exes, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Emotional Hurt, Break-Up, Happy Ending, Profanity, Mention of Sexual Contexts, Mention of Exes Getitng Back Together, Depiction of Break-Up, Depiction of Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Alcohol, Geto Suguru as a Singer-Songwriting Actor, Reader is his Muse, HE IS IN LOVE YOUR HONOR;

masterlist

song: love of my life by queen.

note: i ended up rewatching the videos by cut and im still struck by the conversation between tony and sofya in truth or drink and got inspired. i hope that they find the happiness that they always deserved and know that the love they had at one point was something else. anyway, i hope you enjoy this and i hope you guys have a good one!!! i love you <3333

YOU WERE EXCITED FOR YOUR CHARACTER. You couldn’t help but feel excitement flood through you as you read through the words across the pages over and over. You could not stop reading. The writing was really well done for this part of the manga, and so when you heard that this part of the story was finally going to make it into the screen, you were ecstatic.

You hummed as you tried to speak a line, one after another, in different tones and textures. Often, you would bring a pen with you and write off what you think about the scene and how you want to say it. But getting this from your manager just now, you wanted to immediately dive into it and so, you neglected the pen. You’ll make a mental note about it.

The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you settled into the languid table, your vibrant eyes skimming over the script. The coffee machine’s sound echoed for a moment. Your drink was done. You put down the script for a moment and walked over to your coffee machine.

You pour some on the mug waiting on the corner. Rushing over to the fridge, you take the carton of milk and pour a little bit of it on your cup. You didn’t put in that much milk. You wanted to be active as you read, the milk would make you sleepy.

Script in hand and coffee secured, you make your way into the living room and carefully rested the mug on the coffee table. You plopped your body onto the couch once again and started to read once more. You were captivated by the story when it first came out in serialization.

But you never expected that it would grow big like this one day and even more so, play one of your favorite characters in the show. You were glad for the opportunity, when it first came around. The yes was immediate and one season and a movie — you were now here, for another season once again.

“Oh, so that scene with Suguru is happening, hm?” You gasp, your eyes scanning through the words. “Yo! Suguru, they’re not going to disappear, don’t hog them, oh my god.”

Your character was the only senior left in Tokyo Jujutsu High by that point and so, they guide them into the ropes of being sorcerers. In modern times, they’re very close, Satoru and your character. You were both left behind by Suguru's character.

But before that, there was Suguru and Suguru was in love with their senpai, but staved off for Satoru. But this scene, in Okinawa, was the moment Suguru couldn’t help it anymore and thought about making a move. You flipped another page.

“Oh baby, you’re gonna be so sad when he leaves.” You muttered under your breath, continuing to read. “Don’t start something you can’t continue!”

“Don’t start something I can’t continue?” You heard the voice echo through the apartment. Your head snaps to the direction of the door and you smile, seeing his purple eyes gleam against yours. “What do you have on hand, darling?”

“Script’s arrived!” You say, waving your own in the air. You pointed to the side. “Your manager left yours here too.”

Geto Suguru blinked, looking at where you were pointing out. “Wow, I didn’t think that it would get here this early.”

“Right?” You say as you look at the scripts again. “They really crunched the writing time this time. And it’s so good!”

“Well, they finally got the approval from Akutami–sensei fast this time.”

“I suppose they probably did.”

He hums as he walks over to you and sits down by you. He turns to you and places a small kiss on your lips. ”Hey, love.”

“Hey, Sugu.” You whisper back. “You’re home late.”

"Sorry I'm late. The recording ran longer than expected."

You smiled up at him, feeling the familiar warmth that always accompanied his presence. "It's okay. How did it go?"

He slid into the seat opposite me, his purple eyes sparkling with excitement. "It went great. I think you're going to love the new song. It's… special."

"You always say that, Sugu." You teased, though you knew this one would be extraordinary, just like all the others.

“Well, it's because you’re the only person I write about.” He grins at you sheepishly. “And I am in love with you.”

“Hm…that’s true.” You giggle.

“Anything interesting in the script?”

“Oh, darling, you have no idea! Let me catch you up!”

The two of you spent the next hour discussing the show, your upcoming scenes, and the plans for your future projects. He told you about the upcoming releases he has for his music, if he was planning to go touring again.

It was moments like these, away from the glitz and glamor, that you think you cherished the most. You were both natural, you were just whole — together. Here, we were just two people in love, supporting each other through the highs and lows of your demanding careers.

Once you finished the other script you were going to receive in the upcoming week for a movie you were going to star in, Suguru sighed and looked at you for a moment. He often does that, trying to memorize the wonder in your face, over and over again.

He’s often away from you because of work too. And so he takes it all in. He burns the memory of you so deeply into him that it's all he remembers for weeks and months until you both meet again.

Suguru took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You know, I was thinking about our next awards show. I have a feeling you might be giving another speech soon."

You laughed, shaking my head. "And you know I'll be paying homage to you, as always."

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "And I'll be in the front row, cheering you on, as always."

Geto Suguru is your lover. But he’s also your co–worker on multiple projects, including Jujutsu Kaisen. The beloved charismatic actor with a voice that could melt hearts, had captured your attention from the moment you first met on set. His passion for acting was matched only by his love for music. He was such an addition to the casting list, because he’d been popular since he was a teenager and he only kept getting popular with time.

Everything about Suguru was electric. From the moment you met him, he exuded a kind of wonder that drew you in effortlessly. As your senpai in the industry, he was a bit older and infinitely wiser, but unlike others you had encountered, he didn't just guide you—he cared for you deeply, nurturing your talents and helping you grow.

He was always there with a kind word and enthusiastic encouragement, urging you to accept scripts that came your way and guiding you on how to navigate the complexities of the industry. His wisdom extended beyond acting techniques; he knew how to choose stories that would resonate with you, stories that would challenge and inspire.

"Remember, it's not just about the lines you deliver," he once said over coffee, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. "It's about the stories you choose to tell. Each role you take on is a part of your journey as an artist."

He taught you the intricacies of set dynamics, the unspoken rules of professionalism, and the importance of forging genuine connections in a competitive world. Suguru didn't just impart knowledge; he shared his passion for storytelling and his belief in your potential.

You were grateful for his presence in your life, not just as a mentor but as a friend who believed in you when doubt crept in. His kindness and enthusiasm were infectious, and every interaction with him left you feeling inspired and capable of reaching new heights.

As you reflected on your journey together, you couldn't help but smile at the thought of how far you had come under his guidance. Suguru was more than a mentor; he was a guiding light in an industry that could sometimes feel overwhelming. And for that, you were endlessly thankful.

The kindness and care Suguru showed extended far beyond the flicker of the camera lens. Alongside Satoru, the three of you often found yourselves on spontaneous trips together. When Utahime and Shoko weren't caught up in their own burgeoning careers, they joined in too. These moments outside of work allowed your bond with Suguru to deepen naturally over time.

As you explored new places together, shared meals, and exchanged stories under starlit skies, a subtle shift occurred. What began as admiration for his talent and guidance blossomed into something more profound. Suguru's laughter became the soundtrack to your happiest memories, his understanding gaze a sanctuary in moments of uncertainty.

One night, sitting by a crackling campfire under a blanket of stars, Suguru reached for your hand. The warmth of his touch spoke volumes, words unspoken yet understood between you.

"I never expected this, you know." he murmured, his voice soft with wonder.

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. "Me neither." you confessed, feeling the weight of truth and possibility melt into one in the air.

As days turned into weeks and months, the realization grew stronger: you had fallen in love with Suguru. His kindness, wisdom, and unwavering support had woven their way into your heart, creating a tapestry of feelings that surpassed friendship and mentorship.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, you found yourselves alone by a tranquil lake. The serenity of the moment mirrored the quiet certainty in your hearts.

"I love you, doll." Suguru finally whispered, his eyes holding yours with a depth that took your breath away.

Tears glistened in your eyes as you replied, "I love you too, Suguru." the words a promise of shared dreams and endless possibilities.

In that serene moment, under the canopy of stars and the gentle rustle of leaves, romance bloomed between you—born from shared adventures, mutual respect, and a love that had quietly taken root and blossomed into something beautiful.

After those tranquil moments by the lake, Suguru and you returned to your bustling lives, carrying the newfound certainty of your love like a secret little treasure—one that only you could find. And you were happy with that. You wanted to make the privacy continue and so did he. The world has no claim to your love, until you both were comfortable about sharing it to the world.

In the whirlwind of your demanding careers, where every moment seemed accounted for and every move scrutinized, you discovered a sanctuary in stolen moments together. Your love thrived in the secrecy of stolen kisses exchanged on secluded corners of film sets, where the world couldn't intrude.

Backstage at glittering award shows, amidst the clamor and flashbulbs, your fingers intertwined, a silent declaration of affection amid the spectacle. Despite the challenges that you both faced, from conflicting schedules to the relentless glare of media attention, you both carved out your own private oasis, where your connection deepened, nurtured by these precious, stolen moments.

It was during one of these stolen moments, when the whole Jujutsu Kaisen cast went on a spontaneous ski trip to the mountain, that the world caught a glimpse of our budding romance.

Paparazzi cameras flashed as we laughed and skied down powdery slopes, oblivious to the lenses capturing your every move. One kiss was all it took, and it was because you were desperate, you missed him too much and he obliged you, not caring who sees you both.

The photos splashed across tabloids and social media, sparking speculation and curiosity among fans and industry insiders alike. Your management started trying to do damage control at this time, as you both were not yet ready to say anything.

For days, the two of you navigated the newfound attention with a mix of amusement and caution, unsure of how to address the public's piqued interest in your personal lives.

But amidst the frenzy, there was a quiet certainty between us. One evening, as you and Suguru sat together in his cozy cabin retreat in the countryside. It was one of the places you loved being with him. Both of you were comfortable here, and no one was harassing you both. It was a change of pace from the city and for that you were glad. You knew your lover was in distress watching you have to be followed by cameras.

It would have been fine if it was just him, but it was hard to see you struggle with that unwanted attention. But here, at the very least, he could be reassured that no one was going to be chasing after you both to catch a scoop for the newspaper tabloids tomorrow. You were in peace, watching the stars, surrounded by flickering firelight and the hush of falling snow outside, we knew it was time.

"I think we should tell them," Suguru said softly, his gaze steady and reassuring.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I think so too. It's just... it feels like the right time, doesn't it?"

Suguru's smile was tender. "It does. We've been keeping this between us for so long. It's about time we let them know."

There was a mix of relief and nervous anticipation in your chest. The decision to share your relationship with others meant opening yourselves to scrutiny, but also embracing a newfound freedom in being open about your love.

"I'm glad you feel that way," you admitted, squeezing Suguru's hand gently. "I've been thinking about how we'd do it, though. Should we just... announce it? Or maybe ease into it somehow?"

Suguru considered for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "I think a quiet announcement, something personal. Maybe a statement or a post, just letting people in a bit. Nothing flashy, just sincere."

You smiled, feeling reassured by his calm demeanor. "That sounds perfect."

Together, both of you crafted a heartfelt message to the world via Instagram. You posted pictures of you both through the years, showing the little glimpses of the two of you, from colleagues to friends, and finally to lovers. You wrote about your deep respect and admiration you had for each other, of the shared moments that had brought you closer, and the joy you found in each other’s presence.

When the announcement went live on your social media accounts, the response was overwhelming. Messages of love and support poured in from fans, friends, and colleagues alike. The world celebrated your love story, touched by the sincerity and authenticity of your words. And people were hooked about your romance. Somehow, the world saw an it couple. People gushed over everything about you.

Over the years, Geto Suguru had poured his heart into composing songs that were not just music, but reflections of your relationship. Each song was a tapestry woven with threads of joy, resilience, and quiet understanding. No one would understand each song better than you. Each lyric was a brushstroke capturing the nuances that only belonged to the two of you.

In the private moments between tours and film sets, Suguru would often retreat with his guitar, letting melodies weave themselves around the emotions that sparked everything that made him think of you.

He found inspiration in the simplest gestures—a shared smile across a crowded room, the touch of hands entwined in a moment of quiet intimacy, or the unspoken reassurance in a glance exchanged amid hectic schedules.

His songs became a soundtrack to your lives, resonating with authenticity that transcended mere performance. Through his music, Suguru painted vivid portraits of shared laughter under starlit skies, whispered promises exchanged in moments stolen away from the world, and the profound sense of belonging that anchored us amidst the whirlwind of fame and public scrutiny.

As his compositions evolved, so did your relationship, and each new song became a chapter in a long and happy road that you both dwelled on. The world watched with fascination as your on-screen chemistry seamlessly transitioned into real-life devotion, and fans marveled at the palpable love that radiated between the both of you on and off the screen.

In the spotlight of a concert hall filled with eager listeners, Suguru stood before a sea of faces, his guitar a conduit for emotions that flowed freely from heart to fingertips. With each strum and every lyric sung with unwavering passion, he not only shared your story but invited the audience into the intimate spaces where your love blossomed and flourished.

And as he dedicated a song to someone special, his eyes met yours in the front row, a silent acknowledgment of the journey they had embarked on together—a journey immortalized in melodies that would linger in the hearts of all who bore witness to this love story.

The audience hushed as Suguru walked over to the microphone and spoke into the microphone, his voice carrying a soft warmth that filled the room. You could feel your heart pounding as he tried to find you. When your eyes met, it was electric.

"Tonight, I want to dedicate a song to someone very special." His eyes met yours in the front row, where you sat, heart skipping a beat at the intensity of his gaze. “Love of my life, up on that balcony! Doll, I love you. I hope you know that all this would never exist without you.”

As the first chords of the guitar filled the air, memories flooded back—late-night conversations, stolen kisses, moments of quiet intimacy that had woven themselves into the fabric of our lives. The world had watched in awe as our on-screen chemistry translated seamlessly into real life, and our fans often remarked on the palpable love we had for each other.

Suguru's voice resonated with emotion as he sang, each word a love letter whispered to your heart. The world was singing songs to the words, the poems he wrote to you and only you. And you couldn’t feel any happier. Any more content, to be this loved. To be the only person that he truly deeply loves.

The lyrics painted a portrait of our journey, from tentative beginnings to a love that had weathered storms and emerged stronger. In that moment, surrounded by the melody and the warmth of Suguru's presence, you knew that this was more than a concert—it was a declaration, a celebration of a love that had transcended the screen and found its place in the hearts of everyone present.

As the final notes faded into the air, applause erupted, but all you could hear was the beating of your heart, synchronized with Suguru's, united in the melody of a love song that would resonate long after the last encore. The crowd clapped and cheered. You felt your eyes water with nothing but tears of joy.

He looked at you with that loving grin that was only for you.

The one that would stick with you for the rest of your life.

A month later, you both were in the clasp of your break up.

YOU DON’T KNOW HOW IT ALL FELL FAST. Work had always been demanding, but recently, it seemed to swallow up every spare moment. Your schedules became a maze of conflicting obligations, leaving little room for the moments of connection that once defined your relationship. As days turned into weeks without seeing each other, and unanswered messages piled up, the distance between you grew palpable.

One evening, after another missed opportunity to meet, you couldn't contain your concerns any longer. Sitting across from Suguru in a dimly lit corner of a bar, you voiced your worries, the words tinged with frustration and worry. "I feel like we're drifting apart. We hardly see each other anymore, and I miss you, Suguru.”

Suguru's response was unexpectedly calm, his demeanor unwavering. "We're fine, babe." he assured you, his voice steady but distant. “You know that.”

Frustration flared within you, fueled by the sting of his apparent indifference. "Fine?" you retorted, the words tinged with frustration and hurt. "How can you say that? We haven't even talked properly in weeks. I don't feel like my needs are being met, Suguru."

The bitterness of unspoken grievances bubbled to the surface, amplified by the haze of alcohol and the weight of unaddressed concerns. Pushing further, you demanded clarity. "When can we talk about this? When will you make time for us?"

Suguru's response was curt, his own patience wearing thin. "Not now, okay? I have too much on my plate."

The tension hung heavy in the air, charged with unresolved emotions and the sharp edges of unmet expectations. You leaned forward, voice tinged with desperation and a tinge of anger. "How long are we going to keep putting this off, Suguru? I need to know where we stand."

Suguru's expression tightened, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "I said not now, alright? Can't you see I'm dealing with a lot right now?"

The words cut deeper than intended, slicing through the fragile thread of patience that held you both together. "I get that you're busy," you shot back, the bitterness in your voice betraying the hurt beneath. "But what about us? Are we just going to keep pretending everything's okay until it's too late?"

His silence spoke volumes, a testament to the growing distance between you. The crowded bar seemed to fade into the background as the weight of your words settled between you like an unbridgeable chasm. In that moment, the stark reality of your situation crystallized—you were drifting apart, caught in the undertow of careers that had once bound you together but now threatened to tear you apart.

The ache of longing mingled with frustration as you searched his eyes for a glimmer of reassurance, a sign that he still cared enough to fight for what you once had. But all you found was a weary resignation, a reflection of his own internal battles and the relentless demands of fame.

"We can't keep avoiding this," you finally whispered, the admission heavy with resignation. "I need more than just promises, Suguru. I need you."

Suguru's jaw tightened visibly, his normally composed demeanor cracking under the strain of your words. "What do you want from me, huh?" His voice, usually calm and steady, now carried a sharp edge of frustration. "I'm doing the best I can here. I have responsibilities, deadlines—"

"Responsibilities? Deadlines?" You couldn't hold back the bitterness that laced your retort. "What about us? Where do we fit into your grand plans, Suguru?"

The bar seemed to shrink around you, the noise of other patrons fading into a distant hum as your argument escalated. Anger surged through you, fueled by months of feeling sidelined and ignored. "I'm tired of waiting for you to have time for us. We used to make time, remember?"

His silence was damning, a stark confirmation of the growing divide between you. "You're being unreasonable," Suguru shot back, his voice rising slightly. "You know how important my work is."

"And what about how important we are?" The words slipped out like a dagger, cutting through the last vestiges of restraint. "I feel like I'm competing with your career for your attention, and I'm losing."

A wave of regret washed over Suguru's features, but his reply was defensive. "I can't just drop everything whenever you want me to, doll." he said, voice tinged with frustration. “It’s not that easy!”

"Then when, Suguru? When will you make time for us?" The plea in your voice was raw, exposed in the harsh light of reality. "Or are we just going to keep drifting further apart until there's nothing left?"

The accusation hung heavy in the air, a painful admission of the cracks that had formed in your once-solid foundation. In the charged silence that followed, neither of you seemed to have an answer, each grappling with the weight of unspoken truths and the daunting prospect of what lay ahead for a relationship once filled with promise, now teetering on the brink of irreparable damage.

Suguru's jaw tightened further, his gaze flickering with a mix of anger and hurt. "I don't know, okay?" His voice wavered, betraying the turmoil within. "I'm trying to balance everything, but it's not easy. Can't you see that?"

Frustration gnawed at your resolve, tears threatening to spill over as the ache of longing collided with the sting of his words. "I just need to know that we are still a priority to you." you whispered, voice cracking with emotion.

"I'm sorry. Suguru replied, his tone softer now, tinged with remorse. "I didn't mean for it to be like this. I thought... I thought we could make it work. We always have—”

The weight of his admission hung heavy in the air, a fragile bridge over the chasm that had widened between you. "So did I," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "But we can't keep going on like this, Suguru. Something has to change. We can’t continue like we always have and I just…”

For a moment, there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes, an acknowledgment of the pain and uncertainty. "Maybe... maybe we need some time," Suguru suggested tentatively, his voice tinged with resignation. "To figure things out. Cool down.”

The words landed heavily, their implications sinking in like stones cast into still waters.

Time—perhaps the only currency left to salvage what remained of your fractured relationship. In the dimly lit bar, amidst the ebb and flow of conversations that now seemed distant and inconsequential, you both grappled with the reality of what lay ahead. It was a crossroads of roads not taken.

Your heart sank as Suguru's words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the reality you both faced. Time—a desperate plea for a lifeline amidst the storm threatening to tear you apart. But beneath his suggestion lingered the unspoken truth, a truth you could no longer deny.

"I think... maybe we need more than just time, Suguru." you replied softly, each word heavy with the weight of impending sorrow.

Suguru's brow furrowed, confusion etched across his features as he searched your eyes for clarity. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Your voice caught, emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "I think we need to break up, Suguru."

The words hung between you, heavy and final. The air seemed to still, the ambient sounds of the bar fading into a distant echo as the gravity of your declaration settled over both of you. Suguru's expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, then to a desperate plea as he reached out, his hand trembling slightly.

"No." he whispered, his voice cracking with a mixture of anguish and denial. "Please, don't do this. We can work through this, I know we can."

Tears spilled freely down your cheeks as you shook your head, unable to meet his pleading gaze. "I don't think we can." you managed, voice breaking with the weight of your decision. "I can't keep feeling like I'm second to everything else in your life. I need more than what we have now."

Suguru's hand dropped to his side, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "But I love you, doll." he pleaded softly, voice thick with emotion. "I love you more than anything."

The pain in his voice mirrored your own, one that understands the gravity of this situation. But love alone couldn't bridge the gap that had grown between you, nor could it erase the wounds inflicted by neglect and unfulfilled promises. You can’t keep climbing on seesaws and expect no one will fall. Someone has to get down before someone hurts someone worse.

"I know." you whispered hoarsely, your heart breaking with every syllable. "But love isn't enough anymore."

With those final words, you turned away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer. Each step felt like a farewell to a chapter of your life that had once held so much promise, now shrouded in the ache of what could have been.

“Goodbye, Suguru.” You whisper to him.

As he watched you leave, Geto Suguru remained rooted to the spot, a solitary figure amidst the bustling bar, grappling with the sudden emptiness that enveloped him. As you disappeared into the night, the echoes of your decision lingered, leaving behind a void that neither time nor distance could easily fill.

Like he was then, he was alone again.

There were no more love songs to write.

After all, he doesn’t have a muse anymore.

IT WAS A HARD THING, POST BREAK UP. After months of deliberate distance, you had meticulously carved out a life without Geto Suguru—deleting social media, blocking his number, and meticulously avoiding any reminders of the past. It wasn't about erasing him; it was about finding clarity amidst the pain.

Yet, despite the space you sought, thoughts of him lingered, an unwelcome but constant presence in your thoughts. You hadn't wanted to discard everything you had shared—your friendship, the laughter, the late-night conversation. But the ache of heartache had necessitated the separation. And that separation, it was what you can’t do away with. Pain was always necessary to living. You can’t always be happy about things all the time.

Then came the unexpected twist: the news that you and Suguru were paired for the upcoming promotions of Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2. Your manager pitched an idea that made your heart sink and pulse race simultaneously—an appearance on a popular show where you both would participate in a "Truth or Drink" segment.

The proposition was daunting. The prospect of facing Suguru after all this time, under the scrutiny of cameras and questions designed to peel back layers you had painstakingly protected, left you torn. Part of you longed for closure, a chance to mend what had fractured. Another part feared reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal.

Deep down, you knew one thing: despite the pain, you still cared. You wanted to salvage what remained—a friendship built on shared dreams and mutual respect. The thought of facing him again, navigating the uncertain terrain of unspoken apologies and lingering affection, stirred a tumult of emotions.

As you mulled over the proposal, uncertainty clouded your judgment. Could this show be a bridge to reconciliation, a chance to mend fences and rediscover the camaraderie that had once defined your bond? Or would it unravel the fragile peace you had painstakingly cultivated in his absence?

With a sigh, you realized that regardless of the risks, the opportunity to reconnect, to confront the unresolved emotions that had tethered you to Suguru, was one you couldn't dismiss lightly. Whatever lay ahead, it was time to face the truth, whether through words spoken or drinks shared, in hopes of finding a way forward, together or apart.

You stared at the email on your screen, heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Your manager had just sent the proposal to Suguru's team, and surprisingly, he had accepted. A wave of emotions crashed over you—relief, nervousness, and a flicker of hope.

Days passed before the meeting was set in a quiet cafe near your house, chosen for its familiarity and the privacy it offered amidst the city's bustle. You after all preferred to live in a more down low neighborhood than most celebrities. You arrived early, hands trembling slightly as you waited, nerves building with each passing minute.

He was still the man you loved and the man that broke your heart—he was everything to you and he was nothing all at once. And you wished, you wished you could decide what he was, truly.

Finally, Suguru broke the silence, his voice tentative yet determined. "Hey, doll." he murmured, sliding into the seat opposite you.

"Hi.” you replied softly, managing a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. Your nickname makes you feel weird all the sudden, after not hearing it for so long. “It’s nice to see you.”

He nodded back at you. The silence stretched between you, pregnant with unspoken apologies and lingering questions. Finally, Suguru cleared his throat, gaze searching yours with a mix of regret and longing. "I... I didn't expect us to meet like this, truly." he admitted, voice tinged with sincerity.

"Neither did I." you confessed, fingers tracing patterns on the tabletop. "But here we are."

Suguru nodded, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "About that Youtube show... I didn't think you'd agree to it."

You exhaled slowly, the weight of your decision settling over you. "I... I think it could be good for us." you admitted, meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "To talk. To clear the air. There’s….a lot of misinformation.”

"I want that too," Suguru said quietly, his gaze meeting yours with a glimmer of hope tempered by caution. "To clear your name from all those nasty rumors, once and for all."

You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and gratitude at his words. The weight of the accusations that had circulated, tarnishing your reputation and testing your resilience, had been a burden you bore alone. To hear that one day, Suguru made the decision to take legal action against those responsible stirred a wave of emotions within you.

"I didn't think you'd sue those people." you admitted, your voice soft with both relief and lingering disbelief. The thought of confronting the falsehoods head-on had initially seemed daunting, even isolating, but knowing Suguru stood by you brought a renewed sense of strength.

Suguru reached across the table, his hand finding yours in a gesture that spoke volumes. "I couldn't stand by and watch you suffer, doll." he murmured, his gaze intense yet reassuring. "You deserve to be heard, to set the record straight."

His words resonated deep within you, a validation of your struggle and a beacon of support in the face of adversity. For the first time in months, you allowed yourself to believe that perhaps, together, you could navigate the storm that had threatened to tear you apart.

"I've missed... talking to you." He admitted to you.

The admission hung between you, a fragile bridge over the chasm of hurt and regret that had kept you apart. For a moment, you both sat in companionable silence, the warmth of shared memories mingling with the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

"I've missed it too." you finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “More than you know.”

Silence engulfed you both for a moment, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions lingering between you like a palpable presence. Suguru's question hung in the air, a tentative bridge over the divide that had grown between you.

"How have you been?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and genuine concern.

You took a deep breath, the question unraveling a floodgate of thoughts and feelings you had guarded so carefully. "It's been... challenging." you admitted finally, your gaze drifting to the tabletop as you searched for the right words. "Lonely, at times. But I've been trying to focus on moving forward."

Suguru nodded slowly, his expression reflecting a blend of understanding and regret. "I'm sorry, doll." he murmured, his voice tinged with remorse. "For everything."

The sincerity in his words touched a chord within you, a reminder of the bond you had once shared and the wounds that had driven you apart. "I know, Suguru." you replied softly, meeting his gaze with tenderness. "I've missed talking to you."

A flicker of relief crossed Suguru's features, his shoulders relaxing marginally. "I've missed it too." he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s hard….not being able to talk to you.”

The admission hung between you, a fragile thread connecting past regrets to uncertain futures. In that moment, the bustling cafe seemed to fade away, leaving only the echo of shared memories and the tentative hope of reconciliation.

"I don't know where we go from here, after we do the show." you confessed, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Suguru reached across the table once more, his hand finding yours with a gentle squeeze. "Maybe we start with honesty," he suggested quietly, his gaze unwavering. "And take it one step at a time."

You didn’t know what else to say to him.

But you think that you both long for the same things in life.

You wanted to stay in each other’s lives for as long as possible.

SO CAME THAT DAY. When you arrived in the studio, you didn’t know what you were going to do. But the more you think about him being there, being with you to hold your hand to talk you through it, the more you think that you might get somewhere.

You and Suguru sat across from each other, the sounds of music floating softly in the background. The line up of alcoholic beverages on the table along with shot glasses and a cup of soda for a chaser. The tension in the air was palpable, each of you unsure of what this conversation might reveal.

Emotions churned beneath the surface, like a storm gathering strength, and the truths that might come out held the potential to either break or shatter what remained between you. Suguru and you wanted to be honest, to address things properly, but also to keep some boundaries intact. But then again, how could you, when it came to him? He was the love of your life. And you knew you were his.

As you sat down, you smiled at him, a gesture that felt both familiar and foreign. He smiled back, as tenderly as he could, just as he always had. For a moment, you were transported back to a time when things were simpler, when the man sitting across from you was the one you fell in love with. His eyes held the same warmth, the same quiet intensity that had once captivated you.

"You know….I really don’t know what’s going to come out of this conversation between us." Suguru said, his voice trembling slightly. But he smiles, as though trying to comfort you too. “This is a new sort of conversation to have in front of the camera.”

You glanced at him, your own hands shaking. You laugh shakily. "Don’t worry. I feel that too. I don’t think that this is gonna be any easy for us. I'm afraid it's going to be like..." You railed off, unable to finish the thought. “You know what, let that thought disappear.”

"Do you want to go... Yeah," he chuckled nervously. “Let it disappear with a drink.”

“Pour it down, Sugu!”

You watched Suguru take a deep breath, his hands steady as he poured the clear liquid into the small shot glasses lined up between you. The familiar scent of vodka filled the air, a sharp contrast to the subdued atmosphere that had settled over the table.

"You really went with vodka first?" you quipped lightly, a hint of amusement coloring your tone despite the nerves that fluttered in your stomach.

Suguru chuckled softly, the sound familiar and comforting. "It's the closest to grab!" he replied with a half-smile, his eyes meeting yours briefly before returning his attention to the task at hand.

A moment later, you both raised the glasses to your lips, the cool liquid burning slightly as it slid down your throat. The familiar warmth spread through you, a mixture of nerves and determination mingling in the shared ritual. As you set the empty glasses back on the table, a sense of tenderness settled between you. Liquid courage settled tremendously well.

"Here goes nothing, Sugu." you murmured, meeting Suguru's gaze with a mixture of apprehension and resolve.

"Nothing we can't handle, doll." he replied softly, his voice carrying a reassurance that eased the lingering doubts.

You shake your head at him, as he smiles as you introduce yourself. "And I play his situationship in Jujutsu Kaisen." you said, breaking the ice. He laughs.

"And I'm Geto Suguru." he replied, smiling faintly. “I also play their situationship in Jujutsu Kaisen.”

"We used to date each other.” you continued, looking at him.

"Is dating the right word?" he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Yeah, I think it could be the right one." you nodded. "I mean, people who date also live together!"

"For many happy years, I may add." he added, and you both laughed at the shared memory. “Those were the days.”

"I guess that's how we know each other. Then, we broke up a few months ago." You said, the laughter fading into a more somber mood.

“That really killed the mood so fast in the studio!” Suguru laughs. “We are so sorry about that.”

“I feel like I need a penalty shot for that.” You laughed with him.

“Should I pour some whiskey for that?”

“Yeah, why not?” You say as you watched him pour the whiskey

"Okay," Suguru said, raising his glass. "Cheers."

“Cheers.” You clink your glass with his and you start drinking.

It was your turn to pick up a flashcard, your fingers trembling slightly as you lifted it from the pile. Across the table, Suguru had already started sipping his chaser, a nervous habit that betrayed the gravity of the game you were about to play.

"Am I a better lover than who you're currently with?" you asked, your voice steady despite the sudden seriousness that settled over the conversation.

Suguru paused mid-sip, his expression shifting from casual to contemplative. "I'm not currently going out with anyone, that's for sure." he admitted quietly, setting down his glass. His gaze met yours, earnest and vulnerable. "And because of that, yes. You are a better lover. Probably always will be my best lover."

The honesty in his words took you aback, a mix of validation and melancholy washing over you. To hear Suguru acknowledge the depth of your connection, even amidst the uncertainties that had driven you apart, stirred a tumult of emotions within.

"I..." You faltered, unsure how to respond to such candid admission. The weight of his words hung between you, echoing the intensity that had defined your relationship. “That was not the answer I was expecting from you. I thought you were already dating.”

“I doubt that I could get over you very quickly.” Suguru sighs.

"Do you think they feel the same way?" a female staff voice interjected.

“Do you?” Suguru turned to look at you.

“Yeah.” You responded to him a moment later. “I’m also not seeing anyone, so…. I doubt that I could think anything of it.”

“If you were dating someone, would you feel like that too?” The staff once more interjected with a question.

You hummed. “I think…..probably. Suguru and I dated for a long time. And I was loved in ways that people can never even fathom. Only he has been able to do that.”

Suguru looked at you for a moment, as though he saw the universe in your eyes. He felt the heat pierce his cheek. “I think I need to get a drink on that.”

“Go for it.” You say, blushing just as equally bad. “I’ll drink with you.”

You both drink together, your eyes lowering at the intensity of his gaze. “You stare at me too much.”

"Can’t help it,” Suguru whispered, his voice a soft admission of vulnerability and lingering affection.

His eyes met yours briefly, a flicker of warmth passing between you before he glanced down at the flashcards scattered between you on the table. Each card held a potential truth, a shard of their past waiting to be explored.

“I guess it’s my turn,” he murmured, his fingers lingering over the cards as he chose one with a thoughtful deliberation.

As Suguru flipped over the card, you held your breath, uncertain of what awaited. The air in the cafe seemed charged with anticipation, the ambient sounds fading into a distant hum as he prepared to reveal the next piece of their shared story.

With a steadying breath, Suguru read aloud, his voice steady yet tinged with emotion. “Do you regret how things ended between us?”

“I do.” You responded to him, confidently. “I feel like I was an adult and I should have been able to be an adult in that situation with you. But instead, I acted like a child when I should have settled down too.”

“No, but I feel like I hold the most at fault for that.” Suguru says as he leaned forward, straightening his posture. “There was really no reason for me, even if I was stressed and exhausted, for me to have reacted to you that way.”

“You were exhausted that time too.” You smiled at him softly. “I don’t think I could hold it against you.”

“Just like I don’t hold it against you that you were exhausted waiting for me and trying for me to figure things out.” Suguru replied back. “You don’t deserve that and I’m glad you stood your ground and put yourself first when you needed to.”

“I was waiting for something like that from you.” You retorted back to him, your smile turning emotional. “I’m glad that you gave it to me.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” His face softens, the hurt in his eyes palpable.

You shook your head. “It’s alright, we’re alright.”

“It’s your turn.”

"Did you ever cheat on me, and if you did, what was the reason?” You read the card, looking at him. “Did you ever do it?”

"I've had some pretty solid opportunities, doll." he admitted to you. “But I never thought about it.”

"Is that a no?" You pressed.

"It’s a no.” He tells you, and you could see it in his eyes, he was honest. “I had you, doll. I don’t think I needed to have anyone else.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re telling the truth.”

“How about you? Did you ever cheat on me?" Suguru asked, turning the question back on you.

"No. The fuck?" You replied, offended. He laughs. “I would never.”

“I really don’t think we had the energy to do something like that.”

You nodded, looking at the camera. “Our managers are behind the camera. When we tell you that our schedules were so packed….there wasn’t even room to pee!”

“I say that every time we have to do a reshoot because Satoru made a funny face.” Suguru added. “Gojo–kesa isn’t easy to remove everyone. Especially when you need to pee!”

“I think we got too far ahead of ourselves here.” You retorted as you drank your chaser. “That got me thirsty.”

“To everyone, we did not in fact cheat on each other.” Suguru makes an ‘x’ sign with his arms. “We broke up normally, like some couples do.”

"Let's keep going," You said with a laugh, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

"How long did it take you to get over us, and what did you do to help yourself get over it?" Suguru asked.

"I think I'm gonna take a drink." I said, dodging the question with a laugh.

“It’s only been a few months, so I don’t think that’s an easy thing to answer.” He laughs with you.

“Yeah, you’re right about that one.”

He winks at you. “I always am, doll.”

“My turn.” You say, picking up a card. "Do you think I'll be a great spouse?"

"Definitely." he said without hesitation, looking at you tenderly. "I wanted you to be mine, you know?"

"I know." You whispered, tears threatening to fall.

“Hey don’t cry now.”

“It’s the alcohol, don’t worry.”

"What was your least favorite thing I did to you in bed?" he asked.

"Well, my least favorite thing that you did to me in bed," You began, trying to keep my voice steady, "I think it's to not make love with me. You once slept on me before we could start something.”

"I can see that being your least favorite thing." Suguru snickered.

You pointed to the camera. “Lesson 101 folks, tell your partner beforehand!”

"When did you know it was over?" He asked, taking his turn.

"When your work and your friends become bigger than me." You said honestly. “I really didn’t know where we were and you kept telling me that it was fine and your friends told me it was fine. I think I was not understanding my place with you at the time.”

"Hmm. I didn't feel like all that became a priority. I think I was having a hard time trying to understand how to slow down from the work that was my life." He explained to you, as you nodded. "You know? And that was my fault. I feel like that community I had understood that and didn’t question it.”

“But that needed to be questioned.”

“Yeah, because it affected what we had. And that wasn’t fair to you.”

You nodded in surrender. “Yeah, that was it.”

"I'm sorry for all of it, doll." He whispered back to you. “That it hurt you.”

“It’s all in the past.” You whispered to him.

"If you could erase every thought of me, would you?" you asked, your voice breaking.

"Fuck, no! There would be nothing to feel pleasure about at night.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. You smacked his hand, laughing so hard. “I’m sorry, that was a crude joke.”

"No, that's okay.” You whispered back at him, laughter subsiding. “That makes me feel really good about myself, actually.”

"It should make you feel beautiful, doll. All the expensive towels at home die because of you.” he teased.

"Alright, I'm gonna forget the towel thing now." you said, rolling your eyes as you tried not to laugh. "Why do I keep getting these cards? I dare you to take a body shot off me, or you have to take two shots."

"Was it two shots?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was two shots for you, Sugu." you confirmed.

“Okay, I’ll take the shots.” Suguru says as he gritted his teeth, pouring whiskey on two shot glasses. “This is not a good think for me later.”

“He still has to record a song later.” You say, laughing as he puts the bottle back and starts taking a shot. “I feel like you’d do fine though. You aren’t that much of a light weight.”

“I think so, but it would be emotional in the booth.”

“Oh then, cry it out!”

"This is a good question!" Suguru said, holding up a card for his turn. "If you could do it over again, what would you change?"

"I don't think I'd change anything, for our previous relationship.” You tell him honestly. “I think it ended when it needed to.”

“Yeah.”

“But I’m not putting the door to a close yet, I don’t know what would happen.” You whispered back at him with a soft smile. “But given the chance, similar to the question, how would you make it better?”

"I would put in more time, doll." he admitted to you. “I think I’d put you as my priority and what future we have together first.”

"That would be cool.” You said softly.

"I fucked up." he sighed, looking at you softly.

"Would you do it again?" You asked, your heart in your throat. “Would you take another shot at it, Sugu?”

"You know the answer, doll." he said, avoiding my gaze. He picks up another card. "Do you still love me?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Of course." You said, your voice trembling as you smiled. Your eyes water with emotion. "I think I always will.”

“I guess I’m the love of your life, huh?”

“You know that already.” You sniff, laughing.

“That I do.”

“Are you happy with our current relationship?" You asked him, turning to him as he slowly smiles.

"Doll, are you happy with everything right now?" he countered.

“With all that’s going on in my life?” He nodded at you. “Yeah, I’m happy. Some days are bad, but you know….I’m happy. You taught me how.”

"Good.”

“Huh?”

“Then the answer is yes." Suguru smiles at you, with that same smile that made you fall in love with him in the first place. “I’m happy.”

"Really?” You were taken aback, smiling as your face wells in your tears. “I don’t know what to say, Sugu.”

"You don’t have to say anything.” He whispers, leaning forward as he wipes your tears away. “As long as you’re happy. It’s more than enough for me to be happy too.”

"I wished that would have been enough, when we were together.” You whispered back to him. “I would have loved to hear that from you.”

"I know.” He smiles at you, pained. “I wish I could tell you more.”

"'I wanted to be with you for a long time." You admit to him, tears flowing more. He wipes them all away. “I really thought I would end up having forever with you.”

"Do you think your past break up has had closure, you two?" the staff’s voice asked, cutting through the emotional moment.

“I don’t think there’s ever going to be closure between the two of us.” You admit to them, almost as though it was a fact. “He’s my person, you know? I think the fact that we’re not together, it just…it's hard to know how there could be anything, but pining.”

“How about you, Suguru?”

"I think about them often and it hurts knowing that we're not going to have any closure.” He whispers as he too starts feeling his eyes sting with tears. He takes your hand into his and you squeeze back.

“You know, when the future changes everything so fast. And I just don’t know what to do, because they’ll always be my muse. And I’ll think about all these years, wondering whatever happened to the love of my life.”

He wipes his tears. “Fuck, I can’t see anything with these tears.”

"Hey, you wanna wipe our tears away with alcohol?" you suggested, attempting a smile through the lingering pain that tugged at your heart.

Suguru looked at you, his eyes softening as he nodded. "Yeah, let's go."

He pours the drinks and raises his shot glass, his faint smile touching his lips. "I don’t know what will happen in the future, but I am genuinely so lucky to have you in my life and I am so very lucky to have you as my muse. I hope you have nothing but happiness, love and joy, doll, my love.”

"Cheers, Sugu." You said softly, lifting my glass and clinking it against his.

"Cheers, doll." Suguru echoed as he downs his.

The sound of applause from the crew and staff filling the room as you both toasted farewell to your shared past and a hello to your uncertain future. The weight of our emotions mingled with the bittersweet taste of the drink, of the complexities of love and the resilience of the human spirit.

You smiled at him as you stood up from your own chair, being handed your bouquet of sunflowers — your favorite as you were thanked by everyone. And Suguru, being thanked by the other staff for his hard work with his own bouquet.

After the taping concluded, Suguru and you met at the lobby of the studio. The staff had already gone and left and your managers were waiting for your drivers outside. The atmosphere is still buzzing with the energy of the show and the lingering emotions from your candid revelations. You exchanged tentative smiles, a mixture of relief and uncertainty evident in your eyes.

"I'm glad we did this, doll." Suguru admitted softly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I feel... I feel like this is the happiest I've been in a long time, just being here with you."

A warmth spread through your chest at his words.. "I feel the same, Sugu.” You confessed, meeting his gaze with a sincerity that echoed through the quiet lobby. “It was…..something that relieved me.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between the two of you, until Suguru broke the silence with a gentle smile. "Well, I have a recording session to get to, doll." he said, his tone tinged with regret. "But I wanted to say... I wish you all the luck in the world with everything, you know?"

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat as you struggled to find the right words. "Thank you." You finally managed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

As Suguru turned to leave, a thought seemed to strike him, hesitating for a moment before he looked back at you with a hopeful expression. "Hey, are you free to hang out on Friday?" he asked, his voice quietly hopeful.

You couldn't help but return his smile, the warmth spreading through you once more. "Yeah, Sugu." You replied softly, the weight of uncertainty lifting slightly. “I am."

Relief washed over Suguru's features, a genuine happiness coloring his expression as he nodded. "Great," he said, his voice filled with quiet excitement. "I'll... I'll text you the details.”

"Is your number still the same?" You asked, a mix of nervousness and hope in your voice as Suguru paused, turning back towards you.

"Yeah, I never changed it," he whispered softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Did... you?"

"No," You replied, relief flooding through him as you returned his smile. "I didn't."

"Great," Suguru nodded, his expression almost visibly lighter with relief. "I'll just... text you."

With that, he turned again, his steps echoing softly on the polished floor as he made his way towards the exit. You watched him go, feeling a surge of gratitude and anticipation welling up within me. The weight that had pressed on your heart for so long seemed to lift, replaced by some hope.

As Suguru disappeared from view, You couldn't suppress the smile that spread across your face. The promise of a future, uncertain yet filled with hope, stretched out before you, the both of you. And as you stood there, in the quiet of the studio lobby, you knew that whatever came next, you both had taken a small but significant step to take.

Maybe one day there will be more than this.

But for now, you were grateful for this moment.

You were grateful to have another chance to joy.

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takes1 · 4 months

Note

Hi!!! I saw the Osamu x Reader post and as a Suna girlie it breaks my heart just a lil for Suna (very good stuff for Osamu and Reader tho, that was divine) but I was wondering maybe a slight part 2 for this where Suna gets his own happy ending? I say slight part 2 cuz Suna still has his heartbreak from the Osamu story but ends up with a different reader, perhaps? In my head it was Reader's relative who's much more of his type (relative part for slight drama, iykyk) but I'll leave that up to you!! For NSFW I'll also leave that up to you!! If that's not your cup of tea, you can ignore this ask, thanks a lot!!

hi!! thank you!! i def tried to take this in a slightly diff direction, just bc i was a little confused, but i kept the themes the same and the general prompt true to form! i hope this is alright! thanks for the request!!

warnings. sfw, alcohol consumption

info. angsty / hurt/comfort / timeskip!suna / very sad!suna / heartbreak!suna / previous relationship / suna not getting over breakup / misunderstandings / miscommunication / suna checking you out / happy ending / implied needy!suna / __ words

haikyuu collection. more here.

more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

"Old-fashioned. Please," The man beside you was quiet. Raspy, in a young way, but carried an age's worth of reservation in what were so few words.

He was wearing a nice, linen shirt. Orange and yellow danced off of his Harry Winston watch, but it didn't compare to the glint in his eye as he turned to look at your equally classy style.

The name that breezed off of your lips a little too easy.

"Rintarou?"

Other voices from around the rest of the bar fell away. White noise to you- a loud, gray static to him.

His fingers felt ice cold despite not nursing a drink, a decision he regretted not partaking in sooner with the rest of his team, now.

The knot in his throat kept him from responding.

"Wanna start a tap?" The bartender slid his drink towards him. He eyed you when Suna didn't take it right away.

A brief glance between this tense scene was all it took to understand.

He offered his card between two fingers and took the seat next to you without a word.

"This isn't going to work out."

Three years. So many victories, so many trials-- gone. You swore up and down you never felt anything, even after you watched him break down into tears for an hour.

Your passive stare, completely impartial to whether he lived or died, was all the solace he got.

He must've cried for days. He almost didn't show up for graduation.

The twins thought he died.

Suna held an empty stare forward at the glossy counter- fingers circling the mouth of his glass, sometimes twirling it.

Drowning in vat of ice-cold water would be a warmer feeling than this eternal torture.

The memory of you walking out of the gym, holding yourself because you knew what you were doing, and now you had nobody to comfort you for your cruelty.

A shaky sigh fogged the cool glass on his bottom lip before he took a necessary sip.

Something kind, finally.

The heat that crawled down his throat eased your next words enough for him to bare through it.

"What are you doing here?"

Your sad attempt at trying to make conversation set him off.

His nose scrunched with the effort it took to try to pull himself together. Just your voice dragged him so far back into that deep, never ending spiral of insecurity and uncertainty.

His similarly-dressed team taking up space and sound on the other side of the bar was the first thing anyone was bound to notice. After winning a game, they usually went out for drinks- but just like every other time he was dragged along, he found himself not having as much fun as he ought to.

He grew weary of their energy and insistence that he get a girlfriend to cheer him up.

This quiet separation from the pack, his sulky demeanor, and the pain he wore on his brow was evident to even the bartender. He knew you could see it and hated himself for it.

"Celebrating," His voice was so quiet it took you seconds after to completely register it.

Watchful eyes waited for your expression to shift. It made you as uncomfortable as he wanted, but he couldn't keep the fortitude to enjoy it. He opted for his glass in time to watch his ice cube drop, shift in his drink. It looked fuller, now.

He brought the bitter thing up to his lips and handled it astoundingly well.

Your pretty eyelashes looked prettier when you looked away from him. Longer and fuller when you weren't facing him. That flawless makeup, caressed by the soft, warm light of the bar must've taken you hours.

You were different. He tried not to notice.

"How have you been?"

It wasn't an apology. His fingers slipped on the gathered condensation and he hesitated to take another sip so soon.

"Busy," He looked at your glittery shoulder when you faced him again, "You?"

There were a few moments of silence that he didn't notice. His low-lidded study of your little dress was soothing the burn in the back of his throat, a painful mix from needing to cry and the strength of his drink.

Part of him was relieved you hadn't let yourself go. You were a divine gift that any man would be glad to have, and his opinion, should be willing to break himself over.

The dress honored his useless devotion well.

Part of him would never forgive you for not throwing yourself into a pit of despair for your heartless words. His eyes hardened at once, now at the curve of your thighs that stayed crossed under the bar.

"Can you look at me?"

When his eyes shot up to meet yours, it felt like you were staring down a wounded animal.

The full weight of your decision dawned on you and you realized, all at once, that you had been wrong for years.

You hadn't spared him the way you convinced yourself that you had.

Something reminiscent of fear flashed across your face. He left you to think and chugged the rest of his whiskey. His ice clinked in the glass when he set it down and flagged the bartender.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Slipped out, a little too early, as you both watched the glass refill with golden-brown color.

He squinted down and you were grateful it wasn't a look directed straight at you.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," He snapped as soon as your company left.

With more time spent sitting next you, basking in your presence for the first time in so long, and his inhibition slowly fading, he felt himself start to get belligerent.

"I was-," You sighed, trying to control the frustration in your voice because you knew it wouldn't help, "I was trying to give you more options."

It was quiet for a long minute.

The hateful stare he kept on his own hand told you he was not convinced.

"I knew it would be tough on us, with you travelling for the team."

A tough brow softened, just a little. His thumb slid against the rim of the glass, thoughtful, about a better time. When he had something else to look forward to other than practice, or games.

"I didn't wanna put you through that. I didn't want- to make you choose."

His life was empty beyond the court. He couldn't imagine any scenario that would've played out to be worse than this. His face stung when he spared a sideways glance at your pretty face.

"So you chose for me," He rolled his cloudy eyes.

His words were like acid.

You couldn't swallow the lump in your throat. You turned from him, angry that he wasn't doing well, guilty that it had to do with something you thought was a good decision.

A big breath through your nose.

"And I'm sorry," You bit the inside of your cheek when he froze, "I really can't express how sorry I am."

The apology wasn't something he could rationalize as anything other than genuine, and heartfelt.

Confusion ran through him, made much worse by his buzz-- his eyes burned and he furiously wiped one eye. He had convinced himself you were secretly an emotionless, terrible person for doing that to him. The fact that you could possibly atone for it made him wildly uncomfortable.

His chair scraped when he pushed himself up to stand and face you. He kept one arm on the bar.

"I wanted to make it work!"

His version of loud was by no means actually loud, but it still startled you.

"And- you didn't," He was already back to a soft mutter, but it was wobbly when he kept talking, "I don't know what else I could've done, to be enough for you."

"You were enough," You instantly argued, "I just-,"

Another frustrated, teary sigh, "I didn't think I was."

It must've been muscle memory. Suna didn't realize he was wiping a tear from your face until his hand was already back down by his side.

He hated seeing you cry so much that it trumped his own lingering, maladaptive thoughts. Especially when you looked so good.

Your small, sad smile at his chivalry eased the weight in his chest.

He felt like he could breathe for the first time in years.

"You were everything to me," You admitted.

He had to take his seat at that. Closer, this time.

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marichive · 4 months

Text

𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 : 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Writing / roleplay prompts collected from the POV chapters of Cersei Lannister in A Feast for Crows & A Dance with Dragons , the fourth and fifth books of the ASOIAF saga. Feel free to adjust pronouns / etc. as needed.

tw: dark & mature themes, death, violence, suggestive / sexual content

❝ This must be answered fiercely! ❞

❝ She should be on her knees, begging for my help. ❞

❝ The ironmen live their whole lives at sea. ❞

❝ What has emboldened them? ❞

❝ Carrion crows make their feasts upon the carcasses of the dead and dying. They do not descend upon hale and healthy animals. ❞

❝ Reavers do not come in such strength. ❞

❝ She is making excuses for her brother. ❞

❝ The enemy of my enemy is my friend. ❞

❝ If he thinks that I am going to walk into his trap, he is a bigger fool than you. ❞

❝ He is as insolent as his sister. ❞

❝ Sad to say, all of us must deal with scum from time to time. ❞

❝ At least he has the sense to beg. ❞

❝ The castle will be yours within a fortnight if I have to tear it down with my bare hands. ❞

❝ Your courage takes my breath away. ❞

❝ You have a gallant brother. ❞

❝ Young men are overbold, and think only of the glory of battle and never of its dangers. ❞

❝ This plan of his is fraught with peril. ❞

❝ Why would you laugh? ❞

❝ Why? Elsewise I might weep. ❞

❝ That one has outlived any usefulness he ever had. ❞

❝ I had another sort of champion in mind. ❞

❝ What he lacks in gallantry he will give you tenfold in devotion. ❞

❝ So you say. Words are wind. ❞

❝ Might I ask about the armor? ❞

❝ Play me for a fool, and you’ll die screaming. ❞

❝ These walls have ears. ❞

❝ What hour is it? ❞

❝ Little sneaks, the lot of them. ❞

❝ Vapid, weepy creatures, always telling their tales and trying to worm their way between us. ❞

❝ An empty bed is a cold bed. ❞

❝ Let him weep in hell. ❞

❝ I was concerned when I woke and found you gone. ❞

❝ He does not have it in him to defy the Iron Throne. ❞

❝ She has made many friends about the court. ❞

❝ A few suitors does not concern me. ❞

❝ She repaid my kindness with betrayal. ❞

❝ I would be very sad if you ever betrayed my trust. ❞

❝ I will never give you cause to weep. ❞

❝ I want only to be close to you. To serve you, however you require. ❞

❝ And for this service, what reward will you require? ❞

❝ It pleases me to please you. ❞

❝ You hurt me. ❞

❝ It was the wine. I drank too much wine. ❞

❝ Our marriage was a melee. ❞

❝ You have a strange look in your eyes. Are you unwell? ❞

❝ I was just . . . remembering. ❞

❝ Has she lost her wits? ❞

❝ She’s . . . she’s not in a good way, if you take my meaning. ❞

❝ No, stay. One of us should get some rest, at least. ❞

❝ Gods be good, what has happened to your face? ❞

❝ Drink this. The wine will calm you. ❞

❝ Stop that weeping and tell me why you’re here. ❞

❝ Am I the only one here with a pinch of wits? ❞

❝ Your cretin of a husband wrote his own death warrant. ❞

❝ A splendid plan. Dare I ask how it went awry? ❞

❝ Sellswords have no pity. ❞

❝ An arrow gone astray, a fall from a horse, an angry boar . . . there are so many ways a man can die in the woods. ❞

❝ Where am I to go? What will I do? ❞

❝ You are weary and sick of heart, that’s plain to see. ❞

❝ I cannot have her spreading tales about the city. ❞

❝ Her grief has made her witless. ❞

❝ I am surrounded by enemies and imbeciles. ❞

❝ Why does he insist on vexing me? ❞

❝ Grin all you wish, you’ll be screaming soon enough. ❞

❝ When the time comes, I shall swat you as if you were a fly. ❞

❝ Too much wine and too little sleep. ❞

❝ Does that feel good? ❞

❝ I am the queen. I mean to claim my rights. ❞

❝ Do as you will with me. I’m yours. ❞

❝ You claimed your rights, but in the darkness I would eat your heirs. ❞

❝ She sounds as if she is being gored. ❞

❝ My sweet, how shall I pleasure you? ❞

❝ Tell me what you would have of me, my love. ❞

❝ His wounds are grievous. ❞

❝ Tell me. I want to know all of it, from the beginning to the end. ❞

❝ I do not want her to hear these tidings from a stranger. I will tell her myself. ❞

❝ How did he die? ❞

❝ I would spare you the worst of it. ❞

❝ Dying is not dead. ❞

❝ I know what you want. Get out. ❞

❝ Now you know how I felt, the night he died. ❞

❝ Let me be avenged at long last. ❞

❝ I see you are as lovely as the tales. Even beyond the Narrow Sea we have heard of your great beauty. ❞

❝ It is my hope I can at least offer you some balm for your pain. ❞

❝ I bring you justice. ❞

❝ It was a proud name once, before he dishonored it. ❞

❝ I suppose it was too much to hope for. ❞

❝ I ought to have him strangled. ❞

❝ It saddens me to see you so careworn. I say, run off and play and leave the Hand to hear these tiresome petitions. ❞

❝ We could dress as serving girls and spend the day amongst the smallfolk. ❞

❝ You are a wicked thing to tempt me so. ❞

❝ Drunk on gods, the lot of them. ❞

❝ Do not presume to preach at me. ❞

❝ They peck at you like a murder of crows. Every one wants a piece of your flesh. ❞

❝ I won’t let you hurt her. I won’t. ❞

❝ When I kissed her cheek, I could taste the salt of her tears. ❞

❝ Turn away. There is nothing here for you. ❞

❝ Never wake a sleeping sorceress. ❞

❝ You will not like my answers. ❞

❝ When will I wed the prince? ❞

❝ You will wed the king. ❞

❝ I require something stronger. Something that will not let me dream. ❞

❝ What did I just say? Have your ears grown as feeble as your cock? ❞

❝ Some doors are best left closed. ❞

❝ No harm will ever come to him as I live. ❞

❝ Blood magic is the darkest kind of sorcery. Some say it is the most powerful as well. ❞

❝ Swords have two edges. ❞

❝ The very men who guard her could be used to bring her down. ❞

❝ Her lovers are not like to confess, knowing it would mean their heads as well as hers. ❞

❝ I did my best to ease his passing. ❞

❝ I provide her with sleeping draughts and . . . other sorts of potions. ❞

❝ Are you blind or bought? ❞

❝ He stood in her way, so she put him in his grave. ❞

❝ My loyalty has always been to the crown, to the realm. ❞

❝ What I want to know is why she has need of you. ❞

❝ I’ll hear the truth, or you’ll wear chains. ❞

❝ I know what moon tea is for. ❞

❝ Get off your knees and try to remember what it was to be a man. ❞

❝ Moon tea. How foolish of her. Why would she do such a thing, take such a risk? ❞

❝ She has appetites he cannot satisfy. ❞

❝ She may claim he never touched her, but I will not believe it. ❞

❝ My son has been betrayed. ❞

❝ She has a lover. ❞

❝ She’s got a pretty little neck. A good sharp sword will go right through it. ❞

❝ I am awash in roses. ❞

❝ Treason is treason, but we must have proof. ❞

❝ We need to catch them during the deed. ❞

❝ She is too shrewd to be caught so easily. ❞

❝ Their names will live in shame. ❞

❝ It is in your blood. ❞

❝ Will you consent to serve? ❞

❝ It is easy to see why you are her favorite. ❞

❝ The man will confess before the night is done. ❞

❝ I am sorry if the guards were rough with you. ❞

❝ Her scheming forced this on me. She has soiled me with her treachery. ❞

❝ I must be strong. What I must do, I do for him and the realm. ❞

❝ Piss on your prophecy. ❞

❝ In a world so full of treachery, that was worth a few kisses. ❞

❝ She is no worse than most men. ❞

❝ A bath will set you right, my sweet. ❞

❝ It will go hard on him, to lose them all. ❞

❝ There is more of sly than shy in her. ❞

❝ Stay with me. I do not want to sleep alone. ❞

❝ Please, not my children, do not harm my children. ❞

❝ Did I scream? I’m sorry. ❞

❝ Why does he frighten you so? ❞

❝ I want to see my son. ❞

❝ All I do, I do for him. ❞

❝ I was never so sweet and innocent. ❞

❝ In this world the weak are always the victims of the strong. ❞

❝ You did me a valiant service once, but now I have a harder task for you. ❞

❝ Aye, and I have something hard for you. ❞

❝ It’s you I want. ❞

❝ You may take all the kisses you like. ❞

❝ Are you refusing to obey me? ❞

❝ The thing is, the best lies have some truth in them. ❞

❝ I would not want it said I made a liar of you. ❞

❝ Give me an hour, and meet me in my bedchamber. ❞

❝ We waited long enough. ❞

❝ You can keep the crown on. I like you in the crown. ❞

❝ First we must dance the dance and never miss a step. ❞

❝ A sweet face often hides a sinner’s heart. ❞

❝ I do not believe a word of this. ❞

❝ He is young and lusty, I will grant you. ❞

❝ A fool he may be, but he wears his folly honestly. ❞

❝ I am free of your croaking malice at last. ❞

❝ The smallfolk are fond of her. ❞

❝ They will not take well to this. ❞

❝ It must not come to blood, and I mean to see that it does not. ❞

❝ You are mistaken. A lion never cries. ❞

❝ I pray that I never offend you. You are terrible when roused. ❞

❝ Any mother would do the same to protect her children. ❞

❝ When do you mean to bring that boy of yours to court? ❞

❝ Last night I confessed to the Septa that I wished to scratch her eyes out. ❞

❝ Damn them all to the seven hells. ❞

❝ I love them all, and they love me. ❞

❝ He will never have a wife that you don’t hate. ❞

❝ I am not your daughter, thank the gods. ❞

❝ You are being foolish. I am only here to help you. ❞

❝ I will teach them what it means to put a lion in a cage. ❞

❝ Do not presume to touch me. ❞

❝ I need you now as I have never needed you before. ❞

❝ I love you. I love you. I love you. ❞

❝ I ask only as a mother, fearful for her child. ❞

❝ I was lonely and afraid. ❞

❝ I did not know who to trust, so I . . . I used the only means that I had to bind them to me. ❞

❝ Did you take him into your bed to win his loyalty as well? ❞

❝ He was kind and gentle and I needed someone. ❞

❝ Do they say I am a skinchanger now? A warg? ❞

❝ There is no shred of truth to it. I deny it. ❞

❝ I fucked him on the morning of my wedding. ❞

❝ It is good to see you smiling again. ❞

❝ You are still angry with me. I hear it in your voice. ❞

❝ He wanted me more than I ever wanted him. ❞

❝ Let them slaughter each other, the realm will be the better for it. ❞

❝ She was just a child, my precious princess. ❞

❝ No harm will come to me today. Only my pride will suffer. ❞

❝ I will not give you the pleasure of hearing me beg. ❞

❝ Hair grows back. ❞

❝ Remove your shift. ❞

❝ Do you find this amusing? ❞

❝ One day I will have your tongue ripped out with hot pincers, and that will be hilarious. ❞

❝ I will see you safely through the city. ❞

❝ My blood and my betrayer. ❞

❝ That was not supposed to happen. ❞

❝ I would have made her a good marriage. ❞

❝ If he’d only done as he was told, we would have never gone to war. ❞

❝ I can do this. I must. ❞

❝ Vain and proud she was, before. So haughty you’d think she’d forgotten she came from dirt. ❞

❝ I am a lioness. I will not cringe for them. ❞

❝ These creatures have no sweeter joy in life than jeering at their betters. ❞

❝ They think that this will break my pride, that it will make an end to me, but they are wrong. ❞

❝ I am not afraid. I am a lioness. ❞

❝ All hail the royal teats. ❞

❝ Have you forgotten who I am? ❞

❝ You do not need to drag me. ❞

❝ It will be over soon, it will be behind me, then I can forget. ❞

❝ I am beautiful, the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros. ❞

❝ He never loved me, but he saw that I was beautiful. He wanted me. ❞

#rp memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #roleplay memes #inbox memes #rp prompt #[memes ; mine]#[memes ; literature]#[memes ; for muse]#[memes ; general]#[memes ; sentence]

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happyhauntt · 7 months

Text

everything i touch turns sick with sadness — nikolai lantsov

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: anya still believes, sometimes, that nikolai made a mistake in marrying her. he’ll spend every day for the rest of their lives proving her wrong.

─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)

─── warnings: serious angst, miscarriage, pre-established relationship, hurt/comfort. this one is fucking painful. thank you for voting on it i may never recover from writing it! title is from bigger than the whole sky by taylor swift. this is a little au where nikolai is still king post ROW and there's no demon bc i haven't read ROW in a minute and i didn't want to fuck up any details. also i take prompts pls send some i love them

─── word count: 3k.

The Grand Palace is always too cold. It’s all cavernous rooms and long, draughty hallways like a rabbit warren leading to nowhere. Exploring these hallowed halls had been fun when she was small, and there were surprises lurking just out of sight. Now Anya shivers as she turns a corner, a chilly gust of wind streaking down the corridor past her.

For somewhere so opulent, with its vaulted ceilings and gold-gilt wallpaper, one would be forgiven for assuming the insulation would be better, but even now, as the depths of winter give way to a pleasant spring, even with a fire burning in every hearth, the Grand Palace is far too cold.

Genya rests a hand on Anya's elbow as they walk. They are heading into the last meeting in a long day, and Anya is certain she's not the only one who feels exhausted. Genya has her own things to worry about, her own duties to fulfil, but she’d taken one look at Anya’s expression, at the telltale tug of her lips, as they passed one another in the corridor and declared that accompanying her queen to this meeting was of the utmost importance. Everything else could wait.

(It can’t, really, and Zoya will likely be very cross, but Anya cannot deny that she appreciates the company. Tolya is a darling, and follows her like a second shadow, but Genya understands the tiredness that takes root in your bones and refuses to leave. Ruling Ravka comes at a cost, Anya knew that when she agreed to marry Nikolai, but Saints, what she wouldn't give for a nap right now.)

She meets Genya's concerned glance, and offers a weary smile. "You could set this place on fire and I imagine it would still be freezing."

Genya chuckles. "Don't tempt me." Her kefta is buttoned all the way to her throat, and Anya briefly wishes she could wear her own.

She does have one, embroidered in the palest blue of the Tidemakers and tucked at the very back of her wardrobe, though she very rarely has cause to bring it out. She was always going to be a hard sell as queen. So many nobles had made their prejudice known regarding her disability, while her distaste for Ravka is well-documented. She never could have imagined becoming its queen. She’d never wanted to.

But she is, and Nikolai fought for that, so being Grisha remains a secret shared between only her closest friends. The nobles don’t need another reason to dislike her.

Though she suspects Genya is rather warmer than she is right now.

The War Room is already occupied when they reach it. An assortment of a few military personnel, seated around the table. This meeting isn't terribly important — if it were, Nikolai would be here — but Anya had received intelligence from one of the reconnaissance scouts at the Fjerdan border, and a discussion with the relevant officials felt prudent before any further escalation.

She murmurs a greeting as she takes her seat at the head of the table. Her commanders stumble to their feet, "Moya tsaritsa" echoing from their mouths. A chill runs down Anya's spine. No matter how many years pass, she suspects she will never get used to the title.

Maps of Ravka sprawl across the surface of the table, creased and yellowing at the edges. Small figurines depicting their troops are dotted about the place, though the majority are clustered near the border with Fjera now that the Fold is gone. Tolya posts himself at her back, just behind her chair, while Genya sits beside her, shoulders tight as soldiers begin to whisper.

It has been years since Genya was scarred by the Darkling, but she is still a source of malicious gossip in the Grand Palace.

A sharp glare from Anya silences them, and the meeting gets underway. As one of the commanders begins recounting a report from the Fjerdan scouts, Anya does her best to pay attention. His voice is dull and droning, like a drill boring holes into the back of her skull, but she nods at the right times. She knows that report from memory. She takes her role very seriously.

When Nikolai made her General of the First Army, not long before they were married, few had found cause to argue. There'd been dissent about their marriage, concerns about her becoming queen, but not many could deny that she was an excellent choice to lead the First Army. Anya had been one of them, after all; discharged with honours after her injury, she'd ranked highly, served on the frontlines with them all, and she'd been a key figure in the Darkling's defeat.

(Well, she’d really debate how essential she’d been in that scenario, because she’d felt particularly useless at the time, but regardless, she’d been honoured for it.)

It doesn’t matter what she did, or who she saved. She will always have something to prove. Her stomach tightens a little as the memories come to her, unbidden, like moths to lantern light.

Anya’s finger trails absent lines along the edge of the table. It is startling, really, how easy it is to forget sometimes.

The civil war. The people she loved, and the people she lost. Blood in the sand. Days spent tortured in a Shu laboratory. Blood in her mouth. There are mornings when she wakes on a choked sob, red-rimmed eyes already watery with unshed tears. She can still feel the ash from the Darkling’s funeral pyre on her tongue. Her nightmares root through her and leave her half-ragged. Still fresh as the day they happened, no matter how many years sit between those days and these.

Her husband wakes when she does, like two ends of a leather cord. If she tugs, he feels it, so attuned to her pitch-dark soul. Black-tipped fingers curl into her hair as he holds her close. He has nightmares, too. Some scars never heal. Anya knows this too well.

Other days are different. Most days, now that the years have passed. Life demands her attention, won’t allow her to dwell on the dead for too long anymore. The world around her rushes by, and Ravka will not sit and wait for its rulers to be ready. The Grand Palace is a constant flurry of activity.

Her stomach is a raw nerve, a jagged edge pulling inside of her. She tries not to wince at it. The memories are painful still, yes, but she is used to breathing through them. Grief will always sit in the shadows, waiting for its moment to pounce — but there is light, too. There is love. A warm hand to hold, friends to weather the storm with. Memories, good and bad, line the halls of their home like patchwork tapestries. Every room has a ghost.

The commander to her left says her name as he outlines his proposal going forward. Genya shoots her a concerned look, but Anya merely nods as he speaks, her lips pressed together in a thin line. In, out. Her lungs flood with air as she breathes deeply, trying to dispel the knot in her stomach, but the thread of pain only pulls tighter and tighter with every inhale.

She touches her palm gently to her abdomen, the action concealed by the table. Another sensation strikes her, this one sharper than the others, and she fights to hold her breath as it passes.

This is familiar. This carries with it a different grief, hollow and hopeless. Her fingers curl into the fabric of her dress. This she knows, intimately. Her heart sinks.

The meeting can’t have lasted more than an hour by the time it is over, but each moment felt like a lifetime. With a plan of action decided between them, her commanders bid her goodbye. Anya remains seated as they file out of the room. From the corner of her eye, she watches Tolya close the door behind them.

Genya leans in, latching a hand onto Anya’s forearm. Her eyes are bright with concern. “Anya, are you alright? You hardly said a word near the end. That’s not like you.”

Anya allows her eyes to fall closed as her friend reaches out. The palm Genya presses against her forehead is soft and cool, and Anya fights the urge to lean into the Tailor’s comforting touch.

“I’m fine, Genya.” It is easy to brush off her own discomfort. Anya knows what is happening, she’s sure of it, and she will deal with it in time.

It has happened before, after all. The sensation is as familiar as the sharp ache in her knee, the scars on her flesh, the blackened tips of Nikolai’s fingers.

Tolya kneels beside her chair. His frown is so loud that she can hear it without needing to look at him. “I can hear your heart racing, and you’ve been wincing every so often. Is your knee troubling you?”

Another pain spikes through her like a lightning strike. Anya releases a slow breath and shakes her head. “No, it’s not my knee. I believe that was the last of my meetings, so I’ll retire to my chambers for the rest of the day.” She pushes herself up from the chair, faltering only slightly. Tolya’s hand on her waist is steady and sure. “Send a healer, but please be discreet. It’s nothing serious, I assure you. And please… no one should bother Nikolai.”

“Anya, if you’re unwell, he’ll want to know.” Genya watches her as a mourner watches the grave.

“I’m not unwell.” Despite her words, Anya’s voice still trembles. “I will be fine. I promise.”

She’s just about to get out of the bath when she hears the door to their bedchamber clatter open and crash into the wall. Her heart gives a dull, heavy thud as she hears her husband’s panicked voice. She has no energy left to summon any frustration at Genya for giving her away.

When Anya emerges from the bathroom, a silk robe tied loosely on her slight frame, Nikolai is still standing in the middle of their bedchamber. His chest is heaving as if he ran all the way to her, golden cheeks aflush. His eyes are soft and worried as he watches her fiddle with the ties of her robe. Saints, when is the last time she looked like this? Her cheeks seem hollow, purple bruises like pressed violets beneath her eyes. The weariness in her reminds him of long nights during the war, when he’d grip her tightly enough to leave his fingerprints on her skin and it seemed the sun would never rise again.

She’s drained. As if that spark of Anya, that light he’d fallen in love with so long ago, has been snuffed out entirely. The woman before him is a hollow shell. Had it been only a few hours since he saw her last? This morning he’d chased her laughing through the sitting room and kissed her against the wall until Zoya dragged him away to attend to his duties. He can still hear her giggling, a sweet phantom sound.

A servant emerges from the bathroom behind Anya looking upset, carrying a wicker basket overflowing with damp towels. She keeps her eyes fixed on the rug. Anya dismisses her with a small smile and the servant scurries out of their bedchamber, dropping into a rushed curtsey as she passes Nikolai.

Anya doesn’t look at him until the door clicks shut.

The look she sends him is enough to shatter his heart completely. Her mouth quivers perilously at the edges, but she’s smiling at him, damn it, as if soothing his frayed nerves is of the utmost importance.

He doesn’t breathe as she crosses the room to settle gingerly on the chaise, fearful that any sudden movements might spook her. Her honey-coloured hair is swept back, a few tendrils hanging limply around her gaunt face, accentuating the sharpness of her cheekbones.

“What happened?” His voice is little more than a gravelly whisper. The room feels impossibly heavy. “Genya mentioned you were unwell. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Anya hugs herself tightly. The sight makes his heart ache. “I wanted to be sure, first. And I am.” The words are quiet. Nikolai doesn’t think he’s ever heard her sound so small.

He drops to his knees in front of her. Reaching out, he clasps her freezing hands between his own. “Sure about what?”

She looks up at him through damp eyelashes. Her eyes are bloodshot, her hands are limp in his grip, lips cracked and bitten, and yet he wonders how there was ever a day he didn’t love her. How foolish he’d been as a child, to look at her and not immediately surrender his heart.

When Anya speaks again, it is little more than a ragged whisper. “I lost the baby.”

Nikolai blinks at her. His lips have turned numb. “I didn’t know you were pregnant.”

Anya shakes her head roughly. “I didn’t want to tell you yet. I didn’t want to get your hopes up again.”

Grief sits between them like a depthless chasm, and suddenly he understands. Nikolai reaches up to cup her face with one hand, sweeping his thumb over the tear-stained skin of her cheek. She sinks into his touch, and it takes everything he has not to splinter into a thousand mournful pieces.

They both know what happened before. There have been three pregnancies since they started trying two years, and each has left them stained with heartache. After the second, the healers informed them of the harrowing reality; that Anya may well not be able to have children. Not after the beatings she took in captivity.

Some scars never heal. This, they both know too well.

“You should have told me.” He wants to scream, to rage, to weep for her. He wants to scrape away all of her pain and take it for himself, to ensure she never hurts again.

“I didn’t want to. When you didn’t know… When I kept it to myself, I was the only one who could hope and dream and pray about it,” she tells him. She won’t burden him with her dreams, of the golden-haired girl she sees when she closes her eyes or the little boy whose laugh sounds exactly like Nikolai’s.

A desperate whimper slips out and suddenly he’s on the chaise beside her, sweeping her into a tight embrace. He rubs her back in gentle circles as she buries her sobs in his chest, and drops his lips to her hair as if that will stifle his own tears.

“Nik, what if I can’t have children?” Her voice is muffled by his shirt, but no amount of fabric could ever disguise the pain of it. “Ravka… Ravka depends on it.” Once upon a time, it would have amused him to hear her care about what Ravka wants. Once upon a time, not that long ago, she didn’t care if this Saints-forsaken country fell into the sea. Now his heart stutters painfully. “You’re going to need heirs, and what if I can’t do it?”

He wonders how long she has harboured these quiet doubts. How long she has let them fester silently inside her chest. It is so rare for Anya to voice her insecurities. She is a soldier, through and through; stoic and stern, facing the storm with unflinching resolve. When he’d rescued her from captivity and she found her future altered beyond recognition, she hadn’t faltered.

She is not invincible. He knows the softness of her heart beneath all that armour.

“Anya…” he murmurs.

“I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret ever choosing me.” The confession spills out of her quickly, like she’s afraid she won’t say it if she hesitates. When she pulls back, skin blotchy and eyes shining, her expression is almost surprised. “I don’t think I’d survive that.”

A fierce anger rises in Nikolai’s chest, but not at her. Never at her. His eyes burn with ferocity as he kisses her, harder than he means to, hard enough to bruise. He kisses her as if his lips against hers will make her believe it, as if she can feel the love overflowing from his heart. A heart not big enough to hold it all in without bursting.

He pulls away, breathing heavily, and presses his forehead against hers. His hand curls around the back of her neck, fingers tangled in loose strands of her hair.

“Loving you will never be a mistake,” he rasps. “Not to me. Do you understand? I will spend the rest of our lives proving that to you.”

She shudders against him, half a sob building in her chest. “Nik.”

He can feel his heartbeat in his throat. There aren’t enough words in any language to convey what she means to him, but he has to try. “And children, children with you, would be lovely. I’d cherish them with all my heart. But only if you want them. Not because you feel it’s your duty, but because you want them. It’s your choice, milaya. And if you do, and we cannot have them, well—” He shrugs, a fleeting smirk passing over his face. “I’m the King. We will figure it out. ”

Her laugh is small, quiet, but it is there. He wants to bottle the sound and keep it forever.

“The important thing,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “is that you are safe, and healthy, and I love you. I love you so much, Anya. Never doubt that for a moment.”

She crumbles then, collapsing into him as the last of her strength dissolves. He knows she is in pain, and her heart is breaking, and so is his. She weeps quietly as she curls up in his lap and he holds her as tightly as he can, stroking gently through her hair.

Some scars never heal, no matter the time that passes. But these are wounds they will bear together, and if ever Nikolai is able to ease Anya’s heartache, then by the Saints, there is no force in the world that could stop him.

#* chapter update.#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov oc #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #shadow and bone oc #shadow and bone fanfic #grishaverse #grishaverse fanfic #six of crows fanfic #* fic: gold rush.

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hugemilkshake · 5 months

Note

Hihi!! Goodnight or Good day!!

I suddenly thought of a random idea! Like.. what if there was one witch who objected that the beast cookies should be sealed? Saying that they still have time/hope for redemption, because that witch knew them since they were created!

Basically witch reader! But since one witch can't defeat numerous witches, Reader just watched with sadness seeing them sealed.

Imagine a kingdom that Witch!Reader baked/made, along with higher role special cookies! Similiar to the ancients and beasts.

The gingerbrave crew stumbling upon it, being amazed as Pure Vanilla is Astonished seeing a new kingdom that didn't exist before (kingdom was just hidden really well 💀)

Or, it could be the beasts stumbling upon it after all of them were released from the seal in some other alternative universe 😭

But I swear Witch!Reader got so much potential in story ideas!

-🍬Anon

Enjoy the milkshake! I literally created a character for this and a whole idea, like the beasts are named after baking ingredients and the ancients seen based on natural ingredients from what I can tell (I can go on a rant golden cheeses name but I won’t) and my idea for these other cookies is that they will be named after cooking stuff, ex- basil or garlic

Also witch is used a a way to refer to reader so you can change it to wizard or scorcher and also I’m 100% open for a part 2

The Hidden Kingdom

-platonic scenario-

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, part 5, part 6

Long ago there was a young witch. They had watched their mentors bake cookies, cookies that could walk and talk! The young witch, though very young, wanted to help and aid in the creation with making these cookies but sadly their mentors told them that they couldn’t help.

But they watched as hero were baked, these hero’s represented Knowledge, Volition, Happiness, Change and Solidarity. But with time, the young witch saw these hero’s change into beasts of despair.

The young witch begged for the elder witches to give these beasts a chance for redemption but the elder witches refused.

But the night the witches went to seal the beasts, the young witch was pained by these option of punishment but by the candle light, the young witch baked new cookies in an attempt to bring the hero’s back.

I’m this time the young witch had to work with what they had, the first ingredient they had was stuff like basil

And in the short amount of time the young witch baked new hero’s, one’s that represented Insight, Contentment, Responsibility, Hope and Charity and one cookie that could be their eyes if these hero’s went down the same path as the beasts.

The young witch gave these cookies land to reside in and left without a trace… hoping that these cookies would flourish without any help…

The forest of beast yeast was dense, and our group was getting weary.. “We’ve been traveling all day! Isn’t there a place we can stay?” Wizard Cookie complained. The timid Strawberry Cookie spoke up as well “Yeah… surely we can rest for a while..?” The younger Cookies looked up to Pure Vanilla waiting for an answer.

“I suppose we can rest here for a minute.. Carameleon Cookie would this be a safe place to rest?” Pure Vanilla looked at the “survival master” “Hmmmm… Yeah, seems pretty safe. I’ll look around just to make sure” and like that Carameleon scuttled away.

After a minute the group heard Carameleon call out to them. They rushed over, like any good friends would. “Carameleon Cookie! Is everything okay?” Gingerbrave asked

“Yeah! But check this out!” Carameleon moved some vines out the way to reveal a neatly kept stone pathway “In all my time I have never seen a place like this! There probably something good down there”

The group soon started down the path, it was very well kept path, and birds were chirping. It was peaceful for the first couple minutes but it soon got a little unsettling because there was no sign of life for a while… until they came across a sign…

“Beyond this point you Powdered Basil Cookie will be your guide through the forest until you get to the kingdom”

Birds scattered around when they approached the sign. “This is weird… I don’t see anyone-“ Wizard Cookie spoke. The chirping of birds quieted down as gentle footsteps could be heard. A cookie soon came into view, he looked graceful, almost like a leaf in spring. “Greetings travelers, I’m am Powered Basil Cookie, I will be your guide through the forest”

Powered Basil Cookie art right here :3

#crk #cookie run #crk x reader

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siriuslynettey · 7 days

Text

Platinum

[The Lost Pater]

We Have To Be More Careful Nowadays

[Chapter 1]

September 12th, 1982

“Sirius, Remus,” came the soft, urgent voice, pulling the two weary men from their brooding thoughts. Their faces, lined with exhaustion from sleepless nights, turned toward the person calling them. It was Albus Dumbledore, his eyes filled with a sadness that matched the gravity of the moment. He moved swiftly, closing the door to his office with a muted click that seemed to echo in the heavy silence.

“It’s time.”

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look of profound sorrow, words failing them in the face of their grim task. Remus’s gaze fell to the tiny bundle nestled against Sirius’s shoulder, the baby, still so very young, barely a year old. Gently, Remus’s hand rested on the infant’s head, feeling the warmth and softness of the child’s uniquely coloured, short hair one last time.

Sirius, with an expression of barely contained grief, leaned closer to the baby’s ear, his breath warm and trembling. “It will be okay,” he promised, his voice steady despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “I won’t let this be the last time we see each other.”

September 1st, 1993

“Phie, c’mon, we must get going, quickly!” Remus Lupin yelled from the kitchen in his tiny home.

Ophelia, the eleven year old girl in the next room, scrunched her face, waking up from her fathers yelling. Today marked her first day as a student at Hogwarts, and her father's inaugural day as a teacher.

“Ophelia, I’m not going to ask again.” Remus began knocking on the girl's door.

“mm…It’s too early.” She replied from behind the door, beginning to stretch herself. After knocking enough times, Remus opened the door in a last effort to awake his daughter.

“You’re not even out of bed?” Her platinum white hair, which contrasted sharply with the dark blue of her bedding layed messily across her face. He brushed her platinum locks out of her face and gently grabbed her arms to lift her up. “You’re not going to have time to pack Ophelia.”

“Packed last night.” She replied, pointing to her suitcase, a clear sign she was indeed her father's daughter.

“Alright well, you still need to eat breakfast and pack your things in the car, so let’s hurry.”

Ophelia finally opened her eyes, not without harshly rubbing them so she could see properly.

“Are you excited for your first day? Remus asked. His voice was always very soft in the morning, knowing his daughter wasn’t fond of mornings.

“I guess…just nervous,” she shrugged. “And what about you? Professor Lupin.” She teased her father, making both of them chuckle.

“I’m a bit nervous too. Remember, we’re both having our first day, it’ll be okay.” She nodded, leaning in for a hug, taking comfort in his words. The stubborn part of her hated that he was usually right. “But, right now it’s time to get ready, we have about an hour, so we have to hurry—no going back to sleep.”

Ophelia stood up as Remus left and stretched her body again. With her bags packed and her carefully picked outfit hanging on the wardrobe, she began to get ready.

Her black cat, Salem, layed on her bed, watching his owner mindlessly walk in circles as she brushed her teeth, trying to wake up. She had just adopted him from the Magical Menagerie a month prior. Remus had promised he would get her a cat for her first year, after declining to give her a sibling.

Meanwhile, Remus was in the kitchen throwing away another egg he had burned after turning his head for what he would call “one second”. Ophelia had just walked out of her room, walking in on Remus pushing his hair back in frustration.

“Toast is fine, dad.” She told him, trying to reassure him in his efforts. Remus gave a breathy chuckle at his daughter.

“I wanted to make you a big breakfast for your big day.” He replied, throwing his tea towel over his shoulder.

“Thank you, but it’s okay. Maybe it’s for the best anyways…I'm so nervous that I don't have a big appetite today, and I’ve been craving some marmalade toast.” She gave him her classy big smile that showed off the gap in her two upper teeth. Over the past couple years, the gap had started to close and Remus noticed it every time, it was a reminder each time she smiled that she was growing up.

“Marmalade toast it is.”

So they both sat and ate their toast. Remus began reviewing their schedule once more. He explained what to expect at King’s Cross Station, how to enter Platform 9¾, and what would happen during the sorting ceremony, trying to recall the details of his own first day. He made a big emphasis on listening to the teacher and not wandering off alone. Though this was his 5th time he’d gone over it this week, Ophelia listened attentively.

“It is always very important that you are always in sight of a Hogwarts staff member, no matter what, you have to promise me that you won’t wander off,” he urged, watching her nod, though he could tell she was growing tired of the repetition.

“I mean it, Phie, it’s not safe to be alone, not this year”

“What’s different about this year?” Ophelia asked, shoving her last piece of toast in her mouth.

“It’s just..the crime rate has been going up…since the seventies…it’s a much different world since I was in school. We have to be more careful nowadays” He stammered over his words. “You promise me you’ll listen? No pushing boundaries, please?”

“Of course I will, dad.” Remus stood, collected their empty plates, and pulled her into a quick hug before placing them in the sink. He usually avoided magic for chores, but with time running short, he used the Scourgify spell to clean up quickly.

“Oh, one more thing I don’t want you outside alone either, so wait for me before you pack your suitcase in the car.” Ophelia gave him a confused look, he was definitely a strict dad, always worrying about where she was, who she was around, but today, she felt he was strangely on edge. “Just a precaution.” He replied in response to her confused look.

Ophelia accepted her father’s strange demand, and went to her room to grab her suitcase.

“Alright Salem, time to go bud.” She grabbed the black cat and started to place him in his travel carrier. Remus had warned her that she would have to get the cat used to the carrier, before her first school day, but everytime she tried, she couldn’t bear to watch the cat meow in the carrier. Today, however, it felt like a real struggle. “Please, Salem, it’s only for today, please.”

Finally, after zipping up the cat carrier, she dragged her bags to the entryway, opening the door to put them on the veranda, while she waited for Remus.

Salem’s fighting began to increase, his little paws hitting the sides of the carrier.

“Okay, okay, you can come out until dad is ready, but then you have to go back in.” The young girl started to unzip the carrier, and before it was even a quarter of a way open, Salem leaped out and ran out the open front door. “Wait! Salem, no!!” Ophelia yelled at the cat who was now taking a leisurely stroll down the drive. Ophelia calmed down as she saw the cat come to a stop next to their car.

“I was trying to be nice Salem, now you’re going back in your crate for being naughty.” Salem started to loudly hiss across the street as she picked him up, which he had never done before. “Well, you shouldn’t have run away.” She replied to the cat.

Salem continued to hiss, still staring off into the distance. Ophelia followed the cat's line of vision to the bushes on the other side of the road. The bushes began to ruffle, despite the stillness of the air.

Suddenly, a large black dog emerged from the bushes. Salem’s hissing began to become more rampant and he began to squirm in Ophelia’s arms. The dog kept intense eye contact with Ophelia, slightly creeping forward, as Ophelia walked backwards. The dog disappeared back into the bushes before it could do anything else.

“Ophelia!” Remus shouted and walked out the front door. She jumped and whipped her head towards her dad

“What?” She yelled out, her fathers calling of her name coming out of nowhere and scaring her.

“I thought I told you to wait for me before you packed your bags.” He stepped closer to his daughter, seeing that her body was frozen in fear. “What happened? Are you okay? Did you see someone?” Panic crept into his voice as he scanned the surroundings.

“I-no-Salem got out and–I didn’t hear you coming–I’m sorry.” Remus softened at his daughter's explanation, feeling bad for scaring her.

“That’s alright, let’s go put Salem in his crate and put our suitcases in the car, then we’ll be on our way.”

They placed Salem in his carrier (much to his dismay) and Remus began putting their suitcases in the boot of the car. Ophelia opened the passenger door with Salem’s carrier in hand. ust then, a brown owl swooped down, landing on the roof of the car with a letter clutched in its beak. Both of them jumped, surprised by the sudden arrival.

“Another welcome letter?” Remus chuckled, not remembering as many greetings before his first year.

“Maybe,” Ophelia carefully grabbed the envelope from the bird's mouth and watched it fly away. “This one doesn't say Hogwarts though.” She said out loud, looking at both sides of the envelope, Remus furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

Ophelia,

Hogwarts is a place like no other. Dive in headfirst—learn everything you can, but remember to enjoy yourself too. This is a time for discovering not just spells and potions, but also for making friends who will stick with you for life. Cherish these friendships; they’re one of the most precious things you’ll gain from your time at Hogwarts.

Though, you must choose your friends wisely. Not everyone will have your best interests at heart, so trust your instincts and stick with those who are good and true. Protect the ones who are good.

Stay safe.

And a final note—listen to your dad. He has a lot of experience under his belt. His guidance will be invaluable, so take his advice to heart, even if you don’t always want to agree.

Best of luck.

“What does it say, Phie?” Remus asked, but Ophelia was still engrossed in the letter. “Ophelia, what does it say?” He began to grow impatient and walked over to his daughter, though he wanted to, he used his manners and didn’t grab the letter from the girl's hands.

“I think it’s just another welcoming letter, they must have just forgotten to add their seal.” She handed the piece of parchment to her dad.

As he read, Remus felt his chest tighten, folding the paper back into its envelope with urgency.

“Alright, time to go.” He hurried Ophelia into their car and shut the door behind her. Glancing at the surrounding houses, he quickly made his way to the driver’s seat.

“Is everything okay?” Ophelia asked her dad, observing his more frantic behaviour.

“Yes, all good.” He locked the door and clicked in his seatbelt. “Just excited for our first day, are you ready?” Ophelia accepted his explanation, as he had already seemed very worried for his first day of teaching.

“I guess.” Ophelia shrugged. Remus chuckled and ruffled his daughter's bright white hair affectionately.

“We’re going to have a great year.”

See Next Chapter Here!

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meluiloth · 3 months

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Elrond Week Day 1: Childhood and Peace

Summary: Elrond, Elros, and Elwing wait for a ship. 675 words

Twilight was falling over Sirion, and Elrond waited on the docks for a ship that hadn't come.

He looked a little like a gull's egg sitting in his mother's lap, with his freckled face and dark hair, and Elwing was the protective but comforting mother bird, wrapped in a white silk gown and a mantle of cormorant feathers. It was her finest cape, and soft as well; Elrond was glad that he was sitting where she could not see his face, for his eyelids were beginning to droop. The only sounds were that of Elwing's breathing and the gentle lapping of the waves on the docks; the city was falling asleep, but Elrond was determined to remain awake and see the ship sail in.

His twin brother, Elros - the more restless of the two - was walking on the very edge of the dock, his thin arms outstretched like a bird in flight as he balanced on the border. His dark hair rippled in the faint breeze, and his eyes - more alert than Elrond's - gazed downward at the indigo water below him, though they often glanced up to the horizon.

The three of them had been here since early afternoon, when the sun was still in her peak, and the first few hours had been brimming with excitement. They shared a picnic dinner by the riverside, laughing and talking, and it felt like they were just like any of the ordinary families Elrond saw idling the days away on the shore; it was rare that his mother could be relieved from her duties as ruler of Sirion, and of course his father was away for months at a time and visits were infrequent. Today was the day his ship was to come, and then their family would be whole once again.

But the day had passed, and there was no sign of him.

Elrond suppressed a yawn and, realizing that he would drift into sleep if he remained in his mother's lap - and if that happened, he would miss the ship sailing in - drowsily stood up and stretched. His mother gave him a small smile, but there was a tinge of sadness in her deep blue eyes, and a weariness that far surpassed the sleepiness Elrond was fighting.

He went to stand by his brother, who by this point had tired of his pacing and simply watched the horizon with a look halfway between pensive and resentful. Elrond slipped his hand into Elros's, and the twins gazed together. Night had fully fallen now, and with it, the understanding that the ship would not come today. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps the next day ... it was nearly impossible to predict the right time, and perhaps they should not have expected so much of the Sea.

Warm, soft hands rested on the boys' shoulders, and Elwing enveloped them in a gentle embrace. They knew it was time for them to leave; tomorrow was still full of lessons for the twins, and Elwing's royal obligations could never wait for long.

Neither Elrond nor Elros shed any tears as they left the dock behind - they were too sleepy, and too accustomed to this kind of disappointment - but Elwing's hand trembled a little, and Elrond looked up to see her hastily catch a tear that slid down her cheek, glistening in the moonlight.

"Don't cry, mother," he murmured, his brows furrowing in childish worry; if there was one thing he could not bear, it was the sight of tears. "It's going to be all right; he will come tomorrow."

"Will he?" Elros asked, looking at his brother with a mixture of hope and anger.

Elrond swallowed, but he nodded.

Elwing, seeing the sorrow in her sons' faces, hastily brushed her tears away and gave them a comforting smile. "Of course he will," she assured them. "And if not tomorrow, then as soon as he can. You know the promise we made to each other, all four of us: We will always find each other."

This is my first entry for @elrondweek! I'm really happy with how it turned out, and I'm so pleased that Elrond Week is finally here! I hope you like this little one-shot I wrote!

#elrondweek #elrond #elros #elwing #earendil #my writing #fanfic #the silmarillion #fandom event #day 1

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lazybutsmexy · 2 years

Text

Bird hunting

Ghost x fem!reader x Soap

Chapter 12: The Nest (Epilogue)

Ch. 11 > Series Masterlist

Warnings: uuuuh none, I think?

Summary: Two weeks later.

Do not read if you're under 18. This work contains mature and triggering themes.

Word count: 1700~

December

Johnny watched his breath condense on the cold glass, blurring his sight of the snowfall. Better that way, he thought, it won’t let me see my own mug. He looked over his shoulder to watch Simon’s back. That strong, muscular back he always looked at in admiration and hope, sat now hunched on a too-small chair, utterly exhausted. Neither of them had gotten any more than a couple hours of sleep in the past two weeks, and it was showing. They were both physically and mentally drained, just getting through every day, one by one.

He let out a sigh and stepped closer to Simon, carefully resting his hands on his weary shoulders and felt a slight jolt - he had been dozing off. “Try to get some sleep, Simon,” he prodded, knowing it would be a lost cause.

“...What will I see when I close my eyes, Johnny?” Simon grunted tiredly, barely raising his head to see him in his periphery. Johnny bit his lip and leaned down, pressing his cheek against Simon’s.

“...I don’t know, love.”

At least, they were together in this.

~~~~~~

The low chime of the bells accompanied the funeral procession as the casket was carried out of the church. The skies were cloudy, mockingly fitting for such gloomy scenery. Price looked at the crowd of people gathered around the casket and trickling out of the building. It was like looking at a field of black flowers - most of them saluting at the mortal remains of Officer Melanie Kirk as she was carried to the hearse that would drive her to her final resting place.

Detective Timothy Hartford was standing close to the family, not as her superior, but as her father’s old colleague. He had asked to be put on leave for personal issues, and Price wondered if that was the prelude to his retirement from the police force as well. After all, Timothy had always felt his losses way too close. Another change in careers could be beneficial for him.

As the funeral procession went on and the crowd dispersed, Hartford found himself looking for his old military friend. As soon as he stepped up to Price, he felt a couple of pats on his shoulder.

“Already said it before, but you have my condolences,” John hummed, lighting his cigar and handing Hartford the lighter.

“Appreciated, and thanks for coming,” the detective took a long drag of his cigarette, “how’s your girl doing?”

Price let out a long sigh and shook his head, and his eyes seemed to lose themselves in the horizon. “Still sleeping, I’m afraid.”

“...It’s been a couple of weeks already, no?” the detective questions, arching one of his eyebrows, “how are your boys holding up?”

“Yeah, well,” Price groaned, a sad smile tugging at his lips, “both Ghost and Soap refuse to leave her room. They keep massaging her hands and legs, hoping for her to react to anything.”

Hartford replicated his friend’s expression, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You must be happy your kids are so tight,” he hummed, before stomping the butt of his cigarette on the ground. Price couldn’t find any reason to deny it, and a pleased smile found its home in his face.

“I am,” he sighed, before bidding his friend goodbye and walking back to his car, “let’s have a drink sometime this week, alright?”

Hartford waved him goodbye, and walked towards his own car to follow the funeral procession to the cemetery.

~~~~~~

…It was warm.

It was warm and dry, and smelled of antiseptic. Definitely not like the forest.

The beeping was getting annoying.

She tried to take a deep breath, but her sides hurt. Her lungs felt like two empty balloons. The hand on top of hers was strong, slightly calloused, and very, very warm. It was tenderly kneading her knuckles and fingers. She wanted to hold it. Just a squeeze.

The hand retreated and she nearly let out a whine, but she only managed to exhale through her nose. She missed the warmth. She wanted to find it again.

Her eyelids cracked open, the blurry colors slowly settling in. The first thing she recognized was a ceiling - she was at the hospital, again. But the room was darker than usual. The fluorescent lights were off, and the only light seemed to come from a window.

She slowly turned her head to look at the source of light, and her breath briefly paused at the view. Simon and Johnny were looking out of the window, supporting themselves on the other. Johnny’s arm was wrapped around Simon’s middle, and Simon’s was keeping Johnny close by his shoulders.

[Name] thought they looked absolutely adorable, but short flashbacks began appearing in her mind. She remembered their worried eyes, their urgent voices. A pang of guilt weighed heavy in her chest - it was all her fault. Well, technically it was her captors’, but she had been careless enough to let it turn that bad.

She missed them dearly, though. How long had it been since she fainted? She couldn’t wait in silence any longer. She wanted to see their faces again.

She wet her lips, and took a deep, shuddery breath.

A slow, gentle whistle startled both men, and they turned around to meet [Name] looking at them with a drowsy smile and half-lidded eyes.

“How’s the view?” her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it seemed to echo in the silence of the room.

In a fraction of a second, they cleared the distance from the window to the bed, barely able to contain their enthusiasm as their hands got hold of whatever was closer to them. Johnny’s hands cupped her face, while Simon took her hand and pressed it against his cheek, pressing his lips against the skin.

Johnny looked deep into her eyes with a watery smile, his tears colliding with her rosy apples. “The view is beautiful, breathtaking actually,” he kissed her cheeks, earning a breathy giggle from her before she coughed, her throat still too dry.

Simon handed her a glass of water and helped her take tiny sips, while Johnny pressed the button to call the nurse in. Once she’d drunk enough, Simon leaned in, claiming her lips in a slow, needy kiss. [Name] let out a small moan into his mouth, feeling content and fuzzy for the first time in a long while.

~~~~~~

“...and only after you’ve completed the physical therapy, you can get back to training,” the doctor instructed [Name], and she couldn’t help but compare it to the little speech he had given her only a little over two months prior. “And then you have the psychological evaluation to determine if you’re suitable to get back on the field, but that’s out of my scope, really,” he shrugged and offered her a little smile, “I hope you don’t get back too soon this time, though.”

[Name] pouted and let out a short snort at him, “Likewise, Doc,” she grumbled, but then she continued with a little grin of her own, “thanks for everything.”

The doctor nodded and gave her a gentle pat on the leg, before taking his leave. All this time, while she was prodded and poked all over, Simon and Johnny had remained aside and out of the way, staring into the back of the heads of whoever got closer to her.

But now they were alone in the room once again, and both men took one of her sides, unable to keep their hands off her now that she was awake. She hummed into their touches, raising her own hand to stroke Johnny’s cheek.

“I was half-expecting to see you turned into a lobster when you came back,” she teased him, and he only nuzzled into her hand.

“I did take the sunscreen,” he smiled, carefully stroking her bruised wrist with his thumb, “I always listen to you, y’know?” The question looked much heavier in his eyes than how it sounded, and [Name] didn’t fail to notice it.

“I know, you just like the banter, hm?” she smiled at him, pulling him down to kiss his cheek. She watched the corners of his eyes crinkle with a smile, and wiped out a stray tear with her thumb. He leaned in closer, burying his face in her neck and inhaling her scent deeply.

She enjoyed his weight on her and relaxed into Simon’s touch as he held her hand in his own. A few more moments passed in silence, before she let out a little whine.

“I can’t believe I’ll be on medical leave, again,” she sighed, and Simon let out a chuckle, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“We managed to get Price to let us stay with you this time,” he hummed, and she noticed a mischievous glint in his eyes. That piqued her interest, and curiosity got the best of her.

“...How?”

“We told him that if he even talked about sending us off on a mission, we’d break our own legs and force him to put us on medical leave, too,” Johnny smirked, barely pulling away from her neck to speak. Her mouth fell open in shock.

“You did not-”

“Nothing will keep us away from you this time, Tweetie-bird,” Johnny pressed a soft kiss on her cheek, “we’re all going home together.”

[Name]’s smile only widened, and she knew that if both men paid attention, they would hear her speeding heartbeat. “Home?”

“My place,” Simon clarified, his thumb tenderly stroking her darkened cheek, “it’s big enough for the three of us.”

She considered the thought, falling asleep lulled by Johnny’s reading, and waking up to their sleepy faces and Simon’s awful bed hair. Lazy morning breakfasts, and quiet talks over hot drinks while snuggled up in Simon’s enormous sofa.

“Sounds nice,” she hummed softly, before quickly piping up, “I call dibs in the middle!”

Johnny barked a laugh, before squishing her cheeks and making her lips pucker out, “as if I’d let you sleep anywhere else!” He pressed a sloppy kiss on her pouty lips, swallowing her giggles.

Simon watched them - the two people that poured all their love into him without a second thought - with a content smile on his face.

There was no empty space between him and Johnny any longer.

His heart was complete once again.

The end.

A/N: Don't you guys love a happy ending? I personally love them :) Thank you all who stuck to the end, despite all the pain I made you go through, you truly mean a lot to me!! You read all of this idea of mine, that started like a little thought and snowballed into a 12-part series lol. Thank you again for all your support!!!

Taglist: @died-in-a-field-of-flowers @rafaelacallinybbay @namenotimportant1373 @ragingbookdragon @zinfairy @scrumplump @omgitstatertot @fullmoon-94 @kalamataolivesssss @embers-of-alluring @warenai @frazie99 @kee-0-kee @littlezarp @scaredknight @tapioca-marzipan @kendahl757 @sweetybuzz25 @cumbersome-robes @carlyi @oyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoya @scarletbandit @twistytimesandthoughts @angelsquidd @ilovemoneyandcheese @sail-boat21 @vvoidspaceeee @httpsarii1 @delreyaddict @madelyn324566 @badame0224 @httpsobi @joanne-uwu

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sofasoap · 1 year

Text

Lastochka AU - Strange confession

Pairing : Nikolai x F!Reader ( OC/Mini MacTavish)

Summary: Some sickness, some realisation, some confession. some sadness.

AU to my Lastochka series

WARNING: Mature Theme. swearing. Slight angst.

A/N : The meaningless crack plot continues. Thank you @nrdmssgs for the tips and knowledges of traditional Russian cold and flu remedies (some are very similar to my culture!)

masterlist

Liar. He is a big, fat, liar. Fucken a few weeks. My ass.

It’s been over three months. And you haven’t heard anything from him. Not a call, nor text. Zero. None.Zilch. Nul. Neoni.

You curl up in your bed, currently on the third day of running on extreme high fever that just doesn’t seem to drop no matter what you do.

The loneliness hits you all of sudden.

When is he coming home?

Home? Is this even his home?

Does he even want to come back to you?

You feel so lonely without him by your side.

You miss him. You miss his cuddle

You miss him fussing after you. You miss his low murmurs.

“That’s it, Lastochka. Be a good girl for me.”

“Look at you Lastochka, so adorable.”

“Anything for you, My beautiful Lastochka.”

You miss him. You love him.

YOU LOVE HIM?

Shit.

A familiar large warm hand rested on your forehead.

“Lastochka? Блять, you are running a fever.” The owner of the hand swore as they proceeded to touch your cheek and your neck. You struggled for a second but managed to peel your eyelids open.

There’s your husband, sitting on the edge of the bed, eyeing you with concern.

“Nik.” you replied as your voice cracked, croak and hoarse from days of coughing. “When did you get back? I thought..”

“Thought what?”

I thought you don’t want me anymore.

Shaking your head to dispel the negative feverish thought, only to realise its big mistake seconds after, as the room starts spinning around and triggering headache. You turned to bury your face into the pillow, whimpering.

“Have you taken anything?”

“No. Ran out of pain relief a few days ago.” you shook your head again, lightly this time.

“No one came and checked you?” Nikolai frowned, seemingly irritated that no one has told him about your sickness nor anyone has bothered to come and look after you.

“Few people offered. But I don’t want to pass my flu onto them. It’s already bad enough we are short staffed at work. ” you whispered, ready to receive a lecture from him.

Nikolai sighed. As someone that has experienced your stubbornness, he should know it takes a lot for you to ask for help. Soap often complains about how he has to drag you half of the time, kicking and screaming, when he finds out if you've been hiding things from him.

With that thought, he stood up from the bed, ready to walk out of the bedroom.

Your arm shot out from under the blanket, grabbing his hand. “Where are you going?” you look at him, teary eyes filled with fear and lips trembling. Why are you so afraid of him leaving you again all of sudden? Damn hazy sickness brain, making you so weak. So emotional. So vulnerable.

“Kitchen. Lie back down little bird. Don’t move.” he reassures as he gently pushes you back down into bed, “Going to make you something to ease that cough and blocked nose of yours. By the way,have we got any potatoes?”

Potatoes? Is he going to make you food?

“I used the last bit of it a week ago.. I don’t have any appetite to eat anyway. Don’t make any food.” You said to him, while grabbing a piece of tissue and blowing your nose.

“Humm.. have to use onion instead then.” Nikolai mumbled as he walked out of the room.

Now you are a bit weary of what he is planning to do. You want to ask more, but your sluggish mind and body forces you to retreat back under the cover, to continue wallowing in self-pity and sickness.

You open your eyes again when you feel the slight dip of the bed. Nikolai slides the serving tray down on the bedside table before gently pulling you up into his chest. Closing your eyes as you melt into his chest, relaxed. Being in his embrace seems to cure half of your sickness. For the first time in days you feel so safe and content just lying against him.

You whined as he set you back into the bed, with piles of cushion and pillow he placed behind your back to lean into. Reaching over towards the tray, he grabbed a hot steaming mug of tea and carefully placed it in your hand. He then picks up a mandarin and proceeds to peel it.

Strong aroma of lemon and honey and unidentified sweetness hits your nostril as you lift the mug closer to your face. The hot steam immediately clears a bit of your blocked nostrils, making it dribble.

Nikolai picks up a piece of tissue and dabs your running nose with a chuckle as you try to sniff it back up, and tilting his head up silently encourages you to take a sip of the drink.

You timidly took a tiny sip, being careful not to burn yourself. You feel the hot lemon drink trickling down your throat, soothing the lumpiness and soreness you haven’t been able to get rid of for days.

What is that familiar sweetness? It’s not just honey… it's more.. Fruity?

“It’s raspberry jam.” Nikolai answered the question, as if reading your thoughts. He proceeds to explain as he feeds a wedge of mandarin into your mouth.“My mother used to put honey and raspberry jam into hot lemon water to settle the high fever when we were young.It’s a poor man’s way of curing diseases. But it works wonders. I used to look forward to the drink every time I got sick.” The nostalgic tone of voice tinged with sadness, making your heart ache, listening to him mentioning for the first time ever about his own personal life.

You knew nothing about this man. Apart from what your brother and the team told you. Leader of PMC, shady arms dealer seems to be able to get his hands on anything you ask for. Not even Price could tell you more than what you know. Or they don’t want you to know the truth.

You hate that.

He’s your husband. You want to know more about him. Get closer to his heart. You have the right to know. But, alas. He’s not your real husband. You can’t demand things and secrets out of him.

“Is your nose still blocked?” He asked suddenly, changing the topic. You tried to take a deep breath in through your nose, testing it out. You gasped for air through your mouth instead.

“Yep. still blocked.” you rolled your eyes as you answered in a nasally voice. “The steam only relieved it for a little bit.. Ugh.” you turned around to grab another tissue, ready to blow your nose, he held out his hand to stop you.

“Wait, try this first.” Nikolai turned to grab a bowl of murky white substance, you instinctively cover your nose and mouth as the strong stinging smell hits your nostril.

“ What the hell is that? Better not be your…”

“Onion juice.”

“ONION JUICE? Am I supposed to drink that or…” you eye the pipette in his other hand suspiciously.

“Oh No, I drip it into your nose, it will clear your nose instantly.”

“Thank you. But no, thanks. I’ll just keep blowing my nose and clear it up… the old fashion way.” you politely declined, edging away from him towards the other side of the bed.

“Try it! It works wonders on me everytime.Trust me, you will feel better in no time.” putting the pipette into the bowl, he drew up a bit of liquid before towering you.

Feeling your hand on the edge of the bed, you had nowhere else to go, you warned him, “I swear to you Nikolai.. If you put that into my nose.. I’ll pour that thing onto your dick…”

He ignores your threat, and traps you under him. His knees wedge your legs apart, his large hand grasps both of your hands and pushes it over your head, while the other one aims right for one of your nostrils.

In the normal circumstances you will be really aroused in this very compromised position, but with your nose and sinus at stake? There is nothing sexy about this at all.

With a fast precision, he quickly drips the juice into both of your nostrils before you start thrashing about. You instantly feel the burn of the mucous membrane and the whole of your sinus cavities as well.

“... IS this how you torture your enemies for information?!!!” you cried out as you rolled around in pain, tears running down your face from the sting and the strong smell of the onion. You thought cutting up onion to induce tears was bad enough, this was a hundred times worse than what you experienced.

“Oh no. I use more harsh substances on them. This is very mild compared to that.” Nikolai commented casually, seemingly happy with the effect onion juice has on you.

“.. I don’t want to know. Oh gosh, look at all this stuff flowing out..” you sat up, scrambling to the other side to grab more tissues to blow your nose, and realising your nose has somehow cleared up more than before. You look at him with astonishment.

“I told you it will work. Downside to it you will have a dripping nose for the next hour or so.” Nikolai replied with a smirk on his face. “Best way to deal with it is to stand in the shower with the steam from hot water.”

With the mention of that, you don’t even remember when was the last time you took a shower. Probably three days ago? You hardly had energy to get out of bed to use the toilet, let alone to stand for a period of time under the shower. Slowly you shuffle towards the edge of bed, nearly toppled over as you try to stand with your shaky legs. He grabbed you by your shoulder, steadying you before letting go.

“I must smell.” you pouted as you sniff your own armpit.

“Nonsense. You always smell nice.” he smiled as he started stripping himself and proceeded to help you with undressing. He always knows when to say the right thing to make you feel better.

“Even if you fall into a pile of manure, you will still smell like roses to me.”

Most times.

“Nikolai.” you perked up as you leaned against his broad chest for support with hot water splashing down on top of the two of you, as much as you don’t want to admit, the onion juice and the steam is working wonders. “Why are you so good to me?”

Nikolai shifted his focus to the side for a few seconds, one hand running down the small of your back as he hummed lightly before turning his attention back towards you, water dripping off his hair down his face.

“Because I love you, my sweet little bird.” he replied in a low voice, barely loud enough for you to hear.

Your heart twisted at his confession. You have your suspicion that his feelings were quite genuine from all the affection and attention he had been showering you with for the past year. He doesn’t have to do any of this to you. He could have just signed the marriage certificate and let you be, have minimal contact with you.

But instead, he visits you with every chance he gets. Finding all the excuses in the world to take you out. To be close to you. To spend time with you.

And in time, you realise, you have fallen in love with this strange, mysterious yet charismatic man.

You open your mouth to reply, letting him know you return his feelings. But his large gentle hand covers your mouth, shushing you.

“You don’t have to say it if you really don’t mean a word of it, Lastochka.I am just happy you let me stick by your side.”

But you want to tell him how you really feel. To put his heart at ease. What’s stopping you? Would he believe you if you tell him now? Would it sound totally insincere? As those questions run through your mind, he leaned forward and turned the shower off, grabbing the towel from the hanger before wrapping you up nicely,to get you ready for bed.

He slides in behind you after settling you under the cover,caressing your hair. You feel the gentle vibration of his chest as he softly hums a tune of lullaby. You sniffed as your eyes started to flutter to a close, days of fatigue from poor sleep finally claiming you.

Soon. You will let him know. You promised yourself.

Someday.

“I never took you to be the marriage type, Nik.” Price commented as he sat down with two glasses of whisky, trying to probe his friend for more information.

Nikolai smiles, not taking the bait as he takes a sip of the drink Price brought him.

He didn’t think he would have gotten married either. He was ready to face the fact he would die on the battlefield, in some enemy territory. As a soldier.

But he found you. His beautiful bird. The bright sunshine.

His true love.

Even though the love of his life doesn’t love him.

It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t deserve you anyway. You don’t belong in his world.

It’s a sin to taint someone who is so pure and bright. With his bloodied hand.

He was happy enough to keep this relationship somehow… platonic. Purely physical.

But with each interaction, he couldn’t help but get drawn into you like a moth to the flame.

The back and forth bantering, the jabs, your ferociousness. Never give up attitude to life.

Makes him feel alive.

Gives him something to look forward to after missions.

To return home to you.

Nikolai raises his glass at you as he sees you high fived Soap after getting a bullseye at the dart game. You duck your head down for a second before looking back up, smiling shyly at him.

“I don’t know what is up with the two of you, but I can clearly see she is quite smitten with you.” Price said as he tilted his tumbler, sloshing his drink as the ice clinked against the glass. “Heed this warning. Treat her right. Last thing you want is the four of you coming after you for breaking her heart.”

He will never break your heart.

Because you are his Lastochka. His precious little bird. He will forever wrap you up in his arms. He will be the shield you away from the darkness. The evil of the world.

Protect you with his life.

Even if you don’t love him.

But….

If he has to set you free? He will.

Even if it breaks his own heart.

“You still need to sweat that fever out of you… let me get some vodka…” “NO.”

unhinge tag list:

@homicidal-slvt

@nrdmssgs @siilvan @roosterr @preciouslittlecreature @bravosierra6 @gamergirlbones @whydoilikewhump @alypink @ashwasherelol @okayyadriana @liyanahelena @miyabilicious @caramlizedtomatoes @deadbranch @celshideout @merkitty49 @abbeyrjm-blog @shyravenns @okamimarta

#cod nikolai #nikolai cod #nikolai cod x reader #nikolai cod x f!reader #taskforce 141 #nikolai reboot call of duty #call of duty #nikolai cod x female reader #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty mw 2022 #mini mactavish #mini mactavish universe #sofasoap writes #crack fic #dont take it so seriously

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shiyorin · 1 year

Note

Hello💖 I hope everything is fine in your life🌹 Can I request some sweets with Sanguinius?🤗 The reader cannot sleep without Sanguinius. She needs him next to her on the bed, whether he wants it or not. The reader cannot sleep without its warmth and the beating of several hearts and breathing. She will continue to beg with her puppy dog eyes, begging him to just come and be with her. And when Angel finally gives in, she lies down on him and hugs him tightly to her chest. And once she falls asleep, there is little that can wake her unless the primarch leaves. So he continues to work in bed. If one of the Blood Angels comes with an important report, they have to speak very quietly)

Here we are, I hope you will like this

You knew as soon as you opened your eyes that you were dreaming. The grinding darkness pressing in felt too visceral to be real.

You stood alone amidst shadows so thick they swallowed light. An infinite void of nothingness stretching in all directions, but you sensed walls of blackness closing in with each empty breath. Silence absolute and profound as the abyss pressed upon you from all sides. Not even your footfalls made sound upon this formless plane of isolation.

A chill gripped you being unlike any temperature. It seeped into your bones with needle-sharp talons, piercing soul-deep. You welcomed the pain. Something, anything to drag your mind from this imagined sensory deprivation torment. Better the icicle limbs and lungs than the void consuming you from without and within.

Then, a scent teased your nose, faint yet paradoxically overpowering amidst the smothering null-scents. Metallic and cloying in a way that chilled deeper than the freezing dark.

Blood.

You knew its perfume intimately from so many times spent on the edge of your life. Here, its presence shocked your mind from sliding into the numbness of this abhorrent solitude.

Reason reasserted, you were dreaming. None could shed blood in dream. But its smell anchored your senses where nothing else could gain purchase in this unfortunate fantasy.

You want to wake up, but you can't. Time lost meaning. An eternity could have passed or merely an instant. You walked endless and wandered directionless, hounded by the maddening blood perfume and walls of ebony closing in.

Until at last, a dim shape emerged ahead. Your eyes long since adjusted perceive a soothing glow, pale golden and welcoming. A figure, features undefined yet exuding comforting presence through that gentle luminance.

You quickened your strides, hope flaring faint yet fierce that here lay escape. As the shape transformed into a form backlit by golden light, relief and gratitude swelled within your constricted being.

That arms outstretched in invitation, and you fell into that embrace. Warmth and solace you had not known flowed through you, banishing the penetrating chill. Light encircled you, radiant hands cradling you safe from the invasive murk.

*****

You stirred slowly to consciousness, wrapped in warmth and comfort. As sleep faded, recognition dawned, you were nestled in Sanguinius' embrace.

White wings cocooned around you, shielding from harsh realities as dawn light filtered through feather-soft plumes. You sagged in relief, tension seeping from tense limbs held softly in the Angel's gentle strength.

Sanguinius gazed down with a small, sad smile. "Another nightmare?" he asked softly, already knowing the answer. His eyes brimmed with compassion yet remained lowered, granting you privacy to collect scattered wits.

You sighed, weariness seeping into your bones like the chill of your dreams. "It seems the past refuses to release its hold, even in rest."

Your words conveyed volumes, as always. Sanguinius needed no details to understand night terrors forged from lifetimes steeped in darkness. He knew such torments intimately through his cursed gift. And he is just like you

The Angel hugged you closer. "I'm sorry I could not banish these memories haunting your sleep," he murmured against your hair.

You leaned into his embrace. "You've nothing to apologize for, my lord. Your presence alone eases my pains."

You stirred tiredly, remnants of shadowy dreams clinging like cobwebs. Sanguinius hugged you close once more to soothe. Drawing you gently back against his chest, wings cradling he and you in downy, he whispered soft reassurances.

"Sleep now, my dearest. This time I swear no nightmare will disturb your rest."

You relaxed into his hold. Yet unease still ghosted your eyes as slumber approached. "Will you remain?" You asked, not demanding yet yearning for his anchoring presence.

Sanguinius smiled softly. "I give you my word, no harm shall find you while under my watch. I will remain at your side for as long as you desire."

You slept. And there were no nightmares, only soothing darkness and warm. You knew with surety the Angel's blessings would shelter your dreams. His promise, a benediction chasing all shadows far from you at last.

His final whispered words drifted after like a prayer: "Be at peace, my dearest. May your future hold more joy than pain."

*****

Raldoron strode purposefully down the hall, dispatch in hand requiring Sanguinius' attention. Approaching the door, he raised a hand to knock but paused at a soft sound within.

Peering through slightly ajar doors revealed his primarch seated, head bowed. Surprise ebbed as Raldoron recognized another figure nestled close, head resting peacefully on Sanguinius' shoulder.

You slept deeply, features smoothed in tranquil repose. Sanguinius' soft humming and gentle touch upon your hair seemed to banish any lingering turmoil from your dreams. Protective wings encircled them both.

Raldoron smiled softly at the scene. He rapped softly, not wishing to disturb such haven of calm. Eyes meeting him held no censure, only cryptic understanding. A finger pressed to Sanguinius’ lips conveyed silent request.

Raldoron nodded acceptance, retreating as stealthily as arriving. Messages could wait.

Extra:

Raldoron: Our father get laid.

Blood Angels: ?????

#shiyorin's answer #wh40crack.#reader insert #primarch x reader #romantic stuff in 40k

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gracexthoughts · 6 months

Text

of violent delights chap 5

trapped

TW: Panic attack, talk of abuse and claustrophia. I have added ** to the beginning and end of the scene so it can be avoided. I've also put a summary of this moment at the very end.

9 November 1996

Euphemia's POV

Harry had to stay in the hospital for the rest of the weekend. I sprained my wrist in my attempt to catch him but beyond that, I came away in better shape than my brother. There's something he isn't telling me but I won't pry, not yet at least. Saturday's match shook us both up pretty badly. Watching Harry tumbling out of the sky may be the most terrified I've been since I was little. The sight has been plaguing my nightmares the last few nights, mixing with the old dreams of Voldemort and Sirius Black and the Dursleys. I slept so poorly last night that I am basically running on coffee.

"Alright, that's all for today. Reminder that your essay on your chosen creature are due on Thursday," Professor Lupin announces, pulling me out of my thoughts and back to reality. Quickly, I begin packing up my notes and textbook sloppier than I normally would in my daze.

"Phe, let me get that for you," Fred says from my shoulder, reaching out for my bag. I shake my head, not interested in being coddled. I only sprained my wrist and I can carry my own bag. "S'arlight, Freddie. I have to talk to Lupin. I'll meet you in History of Magic, okay?" Fred nods, leaving the classroom with the rest of my friends as I walk towards Lupin's desk. "Professor, might I have a word?"

Lupin turns, eyebrows raised at me in concern. "Certainly, are you well? I spoke to Harry earlier today about the match this weekend."

"I'm fine. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I was doing some reading yesterday, on dementors, and I found a charm to repel them. The Patronus Charm."

"Yes," Lupin says slowly, leaning back against his desk. Sunlight streams through the windows at an angle, a beam cutting through the air between us, looking like a golden veil was hung between me and the professor.

"Can you teach it to me? And Harry?"

"Euphemia.." Lupin starts but I cut him off.

"We can't go on without some way to defend ourselves. We were lucky this time but we might not be again. From what I've read this charm is the only defense against them. We have to learn it," I speak quickly, nerves causing my hands to shake slightly at my sides. "Please."

Lupin considers me for a long moment, before standing straight up with a weary sigh. "It well beyond the Ordinary Wizarding Levels..."

"I can handle it," I say quickly causing Lupin's lips to twitch into a sad smile.

"You looked very much like your mother when you said that. She was always at the top of our class, intelligent beyond her years. I suppose... if anyone could master the Patronus at such young ages it would be the children of James and Lily." Lupin studies me sadly, a flicker of pride lingering in his eyes.

"So you'll do it?"

"Yes, I can try. I do not claim to be an expert at fighting dementors and it will have to wait until next term. I'm afraid I've chosen a busy time to fall ill." Lupin says, turning to look at the papers stacked on his desk.

"That's fine, thank you, sir. Thank you very much," I say earnestly, smiling at him through the golden veil of sunlight. He nods slowly and I turn, leaving the class much more hopeful than when I entered it.

10 November 1996

Riddle and I stroll down the halls, walking our usual route through the castle in a slightly tense silence. Really, slightly tense is about as close to comfortable as we can get. We are near the end of our rounds, when a huge crash echoes through the hall causing both of us to jump.

"The hell was that?" I ask, turning around searching for the source of the crash.

"Dunno" Mattheo says, his eyes narrowed. Another crash sounds to our left, from a broom cupboard. I step towards it but Mattheo reaches out, grabbing me by the arm. Startled, I yank my arm back hard but Riddle's grip is harder and we stumble, my back hitting the wall as he collides with me, his hand reaching out to brace himself on the wall over my head. For a moment, we stand there completely still, stunned at the position we find ourselves in. I can't help but notice the faint scent of his cologne, the dark brown of his eyes where amusement dances as he stares down at me, a small grin on his lips.

"Get off me!" I say angrily, snapping out of the moment, trying to push Riddle away.

"Did you stop to think that you might not want to burst into whatever is happening in the closet, princess?" Riddle says, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "I know I'm only ever in broom closets for one thing."

"Please spare me the details of your favorite conquests. It's past curfew. What are we here for if not to catch people not in the dorms?" I respond sharply, refusing to admit that, no, I had not considered that possibility.

"Your funeral," Riddle shrugs as he loosens his grip enough for me to shove him off. He stumbles back a few steps, a crooked and cocky grin growing on his face as he chuckles slightly.

I step towards the door carefully and knock, Riddle to snorts a laugh behind me. The sounds stop from inside the closet and I roll my eyes, pulling open the door. As I do something sweeps out over me and before I know it, I am stumbling forward from a force at my back. I stumble forward, catching myself on the back wall of the closet, and Riddle tumbles in after me before the door slams shut. I hear a cackling from the other side of the door as Peeves compliments himself and the rattle of the doorknob as Riddle tries and fails to open the door. No, no, no, please.

Mattheo's POV

I quickly turn back to the door, throwing my weight against the wood. "PEEVES! Let us out!" I bellow, trying to get the door open. Peeves just continues cackling as his voice gets quieter and quieter, presumably as he floats leisurely down the corridor, immensely pleased with himself. I bang one last time against the door, groaning in frustration before turning around and reaching in my pocket for my wand. "Lumos," I murmur and a soft light blooms from the tip of my wand. "Alohomora!" I say and try to open the door to no avail and kick the door once more for good measure. "Fuck."

I sigh and turn back to face Potter, leaning against the door. Now that there is light in the room, I notice her pressed up against the back wall, her breath shallow and uneven. "What's the matter with you?" I ask, raising my eyebrow.

"Shut up," she mumbles, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wall. Her chest heaves with each uneasy breath, her hands pressed tightly up against the wall, her heart beating so hard and rapidly I can see her pulse in her neck.

"Potter, what is happening? We'll get out eventually, everything's fine. No need to panic."

"Mattheo! Shut up!" She yells suddenly, her eyes wide and fear filled.

I stand there stunned for a moment, watching Euphemia Potter try to control her breathing and she slides down the wall till she's sitting, her knees pulled up to her chest. She's never called me by my first name before and she's certainly never lost her cool in front of me. No matter how hard I've pushed she has always maintained her cool, any anger or hatred might bubble on the surface but still always under her control. Her breathing is steadily getting quicker and quicker as she places her hand over her chest, rubbing roughly against her uniform sweater. Panic attack. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks and I sink down to my knees and reach out towards her but she recoils away from my touch.

"It's okay, Euphemia. Just try and focus on my voice, okay? You're safe, you're gonna be okay. Try and breath with me, okay?" I sit against the door, trying to give her as much space as possible, and breath deeply, exaggerating my movements so she can follow better. I'm not sure how long we sit here, me breathing deeply as she tries to match me. Slowly, her breathing slows and the fear in her eyes melts, no longer wild with panic and fear.

Eventually, her breathing slows to near normal and she drops her knees to sit crisscross, her thumb and forefinger playing her ring. "Thank you," she whispers so quietly I almost miss it. "I just really don't like tight spaces."

"Yeah, I kinda put those pieces together myself," I say although I immediately regret responding with a quip. "Sorry."

"No, actually you being irritating is helping. Distracting," she huffs a small laugh. "I don't think I've ever heard you apologize," she adds after a moment.

"Hm, I don't do it often. I'm so very rarely wrong," I grumble, still watching Euphemia closely as she scoffs, shaking her head slightly. "If we're talking firsts, I've never heard you call me Mattheo before."

"Well you wouldn't shut up," she quips, shrugging as she studies me for a moment.

"I thought you said me talking was helping."

"Now, not before," she corrects. "Did you try Alohomora?" I nod and she sighs, her face screwing up in concentration as she tries to think of another solution.

We sit in silence for a long moment and I watch her. The way she bites her lip as she thinks, her green eyes bright even in the dim light, and her hands fidget with her ring, the pale stone catching the light every so often, the lighting scar on her left hand shining white as its illuminated by the light from my wand, her hair messier than it was in the hallway, more pieces falling around her face, softening her features. I think back to that first night we did rounds together, where she flinched at my raised hand, and I realize, possibly for the first time, that maybe her life isn't as perfect as I always thought it was...

She suddenly takes a deep breath, leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed. "You alright?" She nods slowly, her fingers spinning her ring quickly. "Someone will find us eventually," I assure her. I want to say more, ask who hurt her so badly she flinches at a raised hand and panics in small spaces, and honestly, I'm surprised at my own interest. Violence and abuse is nothing new to me. I have a record longer than my arm of all the fist fights I've gotten into in the last 5 years alone and most of the people I know and grew up with have been punished by their parents physically in one way or another. But something about watching Euphemia Potter curled in on herself makes me want to find whoever did this to her and hurt them so badly they never lay a hand on anyone else ever again.

"My aunt and uncle... when I made them mad, which was pretty often... as I'm not really obedient by nature," she chuckles softly, "... they had this small cupboard under the staircase... they'd put us in there. Added a lock to the outside so we couldn't get out..." She speaks quietly and slowly, making sure to keep her breath measured and deep, she voice shaking slightly.

"Merlin... that's terrible," I say eventually, surprised she's willing admit this to me. I clench my fists, trying to control the rise of anger in my chest. Why do I care all of a sudden? She shrugs slightly, pulling her knees back up to her chest. "I don't think I ever knew who you lived with 'til now... did you ever report anything to the Ministry?"

"They're Muggles. Ministry of Magic doesn't care about Muggles," she says simply, her eyes meeting mine for the first time.

"I thought the Potter family was a pureblood fam-"

"Mum was Muggleborn. Her sister, my aunt, hated her for being a witch."

"There wasn't anyone else? Any one better?" I ask, truthfully bewildered that the golden children, the saviors of the wizarding world, have absolutely no one else to turn to. She just shrugs and shakes her head. "I'm sorry."

"Two apologies in less than an hour? Who are you and what have you done to Mattheo Riddle?" She asks, her eyes narrowed mischievously. Her fingers still dance around her ring but the worst of the panic seems to have faded, or she's adept at hiding it.

"I'm not completely unsympathetic," I say, "Besides, it wouldn't be fair to kick you while you're down," I add as an afterthought.

"Like that's ever stopped you before. I've seen you beat people unconscious and keep going," she challenges, but I don't see judgement in her eyes like I normally do, but rather a cool interest. Like I am a problem she can't figure out how to solve.

"Maybe they deserved it," I say and I begin to feel uncomfortable under her watchful gaze. Her green eyes seem to pierce through my skin, through the armor of indifference I've spent years building around myself and I find I'm feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"So, any ideas how we get out of here, princess?" I ask, ducking my gaze away from hers, suddenly itching to get away from this closet where so many vulnerabilities have been laid bare.

"Fred and George will figure it out eventually," she says confidently. I raise my eyebrow.

"Uh, what makes you think that? I didn't think the Weasley twins were the brightest of the ginger bunch."

"Oi, we were having a not-so-terrible moment, don't ruin it by making fun of my friends," she says defensively and I raise my hands in surrender. "At least one of them always stays up until I come back to the common room after rounds and when I don't show up, well, let's just say they have a way to find me."

"Okay...Two questions: Why and how?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

"The why is that George and Freddie are protective and they don't trust you. The how is a secret," she says simply, running her fingers through her hair, my eyes following the movement.

I avert my eyes and look down at my watch. "Well we should've been done about a half hour ago so I hope they catch up soon. I think this is now officially the most time we've spent together in one sitting, princess."

"And we haven't killed each other yet. We must be growing up," she quips sarcastically, making us both laugh. They are genuine laughs and for a moment, I think hers is the best thing I've ever heard.

Another 10 or so minutes pass, and we sit there across from each other, sometimes chatting and sometimes sitting in an easy silence. It is the most enjoyable time that I have ever spent with Euphemia Potter, panic attack aside.

"Mia!" A voice calls distantly and Euphemia jumps up, stumbling over me to reach the door, kicking my knee slightly and I grunt.

"Fred! George!" She calls back frantically, banging on the door of the closet. I breathe a sigh of relief, sitting on the stone floor was getting painful and I was starting to think Potter placed too much faith in the Twins; I push myself up to stand behind her.

There is some shuffling and talking on the other side and soon, the door opens, dim light flooding in from the darkened corridor, to reveal the Weasley Twins on the other side, wearing matching panicked expressions. As soon as the door is opened, Mia stumbles out and and into one of the Twins arms, causing the pair to stumble back and allowing me to step out of the broom closet. Before I have fully stepped into the corridor, the twin not holding Mia grabs me by the collar and slams me against the wall, the back of my head connecting with the rough stone wall.

"What the hell did you do to her?!" He yells at me. On instinct I swing my fist up, connecting with his jaw and shove him off me.

"Fred!" Mia gasps, and tries to step forward but George holds her back. Fred stands upright, anger in his eyes as he takes a swing for me. I duck his first swing but he lands a second in my gut, knocking the wind out of me and before I can recover I'm back to being pressed up against the wall with Fred's snarling face inches from mine. "How dare you touch her, you piece of shit!"

"I didn't do shit, Weasley!" I snarl back, grappling with him roughly. Both the Twins have a few inches on me but I've been in more fights this term than they have their whole lives. I take another swing but Fred is ready this time and ducks causing me to graze his shoulder, and he retaliates with a punch to my mouth.

"It wasn't his fault! FRED STOP!" Mia shouts, louder than I thought possible for her. Fred stops for a moment, looking at the girl.

"Yeah right," scoffs Fred, keeping me pinned to the wall.

"I didn't do shit!" I spit, a little blood mixing with my saliva.

"I didn't ask you, Riddle."

"It was Peeves! He shoved us and locked us in somehow. It wasn't Mattheo's fault!" Potter says, breaking out of George's hold. She steps towards us and manages to get Fred to release his grip of me and pushes him back. At her touch, Fred visibly relaxes, his eyes quickly scanning Euphemia and, seeing no signs of any hurt, steps back further and my gut twists.

"I told you I-"

"And what, may I ask, is happening here?" We all turn towards the voice, startled out of the stand off to see Professor Lupin standing at the end of the hall, his eyes scanning the four of us, the blood on my lip, and raises his eyes.

"Apologies, Professor. Riddle and I got locked in this closet by Peeves. Fred and George just came to get us out," Euphemia supplies easily, removing her hands from Fred. Lupin watches Euphemia standing between Fred and I, George behind us and raises an eyebrow.

"And?"

"I was blamed for no reason" I grumble, glaring at Fred.

"And how, might I ask, did Mr. and Mr. Weasley know where to find you?" Lupin asks, seeming suspicious.

"Hm, I'd like to know that as well," I say, looking at Fred. The Twins exchange a glance, the kind of mind reading look that twins are famous for, but before they come up with a story, Euphemia speaks up.

"They know what parts of the castle are Riddle's and my responsibility. When I didn't come back when I normally do they got worried."

"Yeah, we walked around until we heard Mia yelling, sir," George adds, sticking his hands in his pockets and shrugging his shoulder.

"Hm" Lupin sighs, eyeing the trio and then me, "Well then, that was very chivalrous of the two of you. However, you are out past curfew and fighting. Five points from Gryffindor each for breaking curfew and another 5 for fighting for both Mr. Weasley and Mr. Riddle," Lupin declares simply. "Is everyone alright? I can escort you to the hospital wing if needed."

"No," I grumble at the same time Fred and George say, "No, sir."

"Thank you, professor. We'll go right back to the dorms," Potter adds to which Lupin nods.

"Yes, please. See that you do. Goodnight," Lupin says, turning and walking back the way he came slowly.

"C'mon, guys," Euphemia says quietly, tugging on Fred's arm. Fred spares me one last glare, which I match, before turning away. Potter hesitates for a moment, turning back to me with a soft smile. "Thank you." I nod in acknowledgement and watch for a moment as the trio turns away, Fred's arm around Euphemia's shoulders, and that strange twist in my gut returns.

A/N: Wow this is a long one (3.6 words) but I hope you enjoy it and enjoy getting to see Mia and Mattheo actually connecting for once as they begin to start deconstructing some of their preconceived ideas about each other. And protective Weasley twins, my loves.

Summary of scene between the **:

Mia and Mattheo are locked in the broom closet and Mia starts having a panic attack. Mattheo, after realizing what is happening starts trying to calm her down and guiding her breathing while sitting as far away from her as possible. After a while, she is able to calm down and admits that the Dursley's would lock her in the cupboard under the stairs when he misbehaves. (Harry and Mia shared the room that canon Harry sleeps in from Chamber of Secrets onward since they wouldn't both fit under the stairs but didn't want to remove the cupboard aspect completely) They talk a little about why Mia and Harry were given to the Dursley's and Mattheo starts realizing that the Potter's life may not have been as perfect as he has always assumed and feels angry for Mia. He comments that in her panic, Mia called him Mattheo for the first time, and he also apologizes for a quip he makes and that she had to be raised the way she was. Mia then jokes that Mattheo never apologizes.

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