#Angst with Fluff

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Too Late

Jason Todd x Reader

wc: 1.2 K warnings: fainting, no y/n used summary: Jason was poisoned during his patrol and doesn't realise until he is at your place. a/n: this was requested by @dreamzaremyrealityy, give them a round of applause for this new angsty request!

»Good morning, Jay...«

You yawn as the red vigilante climbs through your window, planting his feet on the floor beside your bed. A heavy sigh escapes him as he tugs his helmet off, his hands trembling ever so slightly. To be fair, it is pretty cold outside and christmas is around the corner.

»Hey...« He greets back before finally taking his domino mask off, kneeling down before your bed, his shoulders sagging. The exhaustion is written clearly across his face, eyebags deeper than usual, skin a little more pale, hair mussled from the helmet. Jason sees you frown before reaching out, your warm hand cupping his chin. His eyes manage to focus on you, taking in your still tired state after freshly waking up. The air around is peaceful after the gruesome fight with Poison Ivy, having had enough of all her various plants and alleged living creatures, that also have ‘feelings‘ and seem to be over obedient for her.

»Jason! C‘mon, get up,« you shake his shoulders before you finally manage to shift him onto his side, attempting to do a stable side position.

His body feels like he is floating, unable to register anything properly. His head pounds uncontrollably, his eyes taking a longer moment to focus on anything. At the sight of him cracking his eyes open, you feel reliefed, but also overly concerned over him. He just collapsed face first on the edge of the mattress before landing on the floor with a loud thud. At first, you thought he was just tired and plopped his head down, but after a second, you quickly realised he was passed out. That‘s one way to start your morning.

»Can you hear me? Can you talk?« You try to make him talk, trying to hear anything from him, even if it is just a pained groan.

»Come on Jason, talk. What‘s your name?«

»Jason?« He grumbles out weakly, feeling you adjust his body into a side position, grunting softly. Once he is stable, with no chance of passing out again, you sit back on the floor, checking up on him. The back of your hand presses against his forehead, frowning more as you feel him heat up. His skin feels hot, a cold sweat coating over his body.

»Did you sleep enough? Eat? Drink? Did you overwork yourself?«

So many questions and Jason is barely able to focus on your words. Instead of receiving an answer, his eyes roll back again, knocking out before being able to answer you.

Your heart drops at the sight and lay his head on your lap, making sure he stays as stable as possible.

What do I do? Is all you can think about while Jason lays unconscious on the ground, pale and shivering. Your mind races as you try to figure out what to do, being helpless at the moment.

The situation seems worse than it was initially once Jason wakes up, now laying in your own bed covered in any blanket you could find. He still feels cold, limbs aching and too heavy to move. It feels worse than a usual cold, and Jason doesn‘t want to alarm you any further.

You wake up once you feel some movement from his side, having been seated on the floor close by the bed.

»Jay— how do you feel?« He doesn‘t even know what to answer at first, throat tight and dry as if he survived a few days in the desert.

»Worse.« Jason croaks out finally, not even attempting to shift to be more comfortable in your bed, too small for his long legs to fit in fully. You frown further at his words, unsure what to give him so he feels better again.

»Think something on patrol happened to cause this?« You question and hope he remembers a thing or two from his patrol.

Jason sems to ponder for a moment, unsure if he wants to give you a rough picture of what he faced the night before or not. On one hand, he‘d rather choke on dirty rag than tell you about it, but he wants to ease your nerves in some way as well.

»Poison Ivy broke out from Arkahm. Her plants— fuckass plants, « He can‘t even finish his sentence before he needs to cough, a few painful wet coughs leaving him. You quickly stand off the floor and get him a glass of water first, unsure what else to give him right now.

He takes it gratefully and sips on it a little before settling back against the pillows behind him.

You never saw Jason in such a bad condition before, sweating and coughing, eyes teary and slightly red. His body is burning up but he shivers, unable to move much as his muscles feel on the verge of giving up. Without another thought, you end up in the kitchen and make him some warm tea. The best you can do is stay by his side and help him recover, and hope for the best. A while later, Jason is nursed with a big cup of tea, forced to drink up everything. For his high fever, you made him swallow two pills of paracetamol, feeling a little guilty for it.

Despite everything, Jason complies and stays in your bed, feeling somewhat better after taking some pills.

But as soon as it growa darker outside and the it gets late, his fever is going up again. He groans lightly, although he tires to act tough so he doesn‘t scare you. You give him a damp cold rag to hold against his forehead, but it doesn‘t seem to help much. The ideas are running out, and you find yourself being helpless again. Jason looks absoloutely drained and exhausted, and you can‘t do anything but watch.

»It‘s just one of Ivy‘s pollen. Don‘t worry too much.« Jason tries to reassure you, but you doubt it. Just when you want to say something about it, another coughing fit escapes Jason, his muscles tense and cramped up from laying all day.

The morning after is rocky, starting with Jason‘s high fever, added with new fatigue. He wakes up panting heavily, a cold sweat covering his body all over again, and eyes wide in terror. You can barely console him before it gets worse, eventually making him stay calm.

Jason insists on benig fine, but it doesn‘t work since he looks like wet, shivering dog. Luckily, he lets you feed him with some painkillers and something to soothe his fever before he ends up falling asleep again. Hopefully he‘ll wake up a little less banged up.

As expected, Jason wakes up a few hours later, able to sit up on his own.

»See, I‘m all fine again, sweetie.« He shrugs, hiding another coughing fit as you speak up too.

»Don‘t… you‘ll jinx it, I know it.« You narrow your eyes at him, growing a little annoyed at his constant insistence of being fine when he clearly isn‘t, even as he sits.

»Do you… want some soup? I made some, earlier.«

Jason grows quiet before he nods wordlessly, eventually leaning back into the heabdoard again.

»Can I help?«

»No.«

←MASTERLIST

taglist₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆. @143637-hrrm @dollyure @ibreathesmut @dreamzaremyrealityy @aceoffate

[vellazx]

Inspired by one of my friends prompts — Law x Reader (gender not specified) — Angst / Fluff

You were a Straw Hat.

The most perfect person in the world for him — on a different crew. You were someone who he couldn’t reach, no matter what he did.

He fell for you. Hard.

You always liked him. He was a pretty boy; perhaps the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. Ever since you laid your eyes on him two years ago in the auction house in Sabaody, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Hells, you didn’t even speak to him.

At first, he just believed you were some diehard simp who wasn’t genuine towards him. So he shrugged you off.

He was always rather insecure, not capable of believing someone actually loved him. Romantically, at least.

You talked (pestered) him the whole time he was on the Sunny due to the newfound alliance he made with your captain. Honestly, you didn’t really do a good job at hiding your feelings.

More like you didn’t even bother to hide them in the first place. You were so direct with him about how you felt.

Still, he wasn’t phased by your endless compliments and attempts at making him open up.

One night, however, he wasn’t in the best mood.

He said you irritated him. Bluntly.

After that, you decided to leave him alone. It felt unusual around the Sunny without your constant rambling. For some reason, his heart ached without your warmth by his side.

He told himself you meant nothing to him; only a temporary ally with good fighting skills he couldn’t risk losing.

However, in Dressrosa, when Doflamingo managed to capture you and him both, you acted strangely.

You saw how distressed he was, being helpless before the Warlord. Behind that tough exterior, there was a little boy, scarred from his past.

And, oh, how absolutely protective you got.

Doflamingo was holding you up by strings, blood spilling from every wound they cut into your skin. But you still retaliated.

Risked getting killed to escape the strings, all because you didn’t want Law to feel helpless. His emotions were through the roof whenever he realized you were trying to meaninglessly fight back. For his sake.

When you got out, you were a bloody mess, barely able to stand with how wobbly your knees were. Some of your bones were even broken.

He asked with wide eyes, “What were you thinking?!”

You simply smiled, and said, “You hate him, don’t you? I didn’t want to sit around and do nothing to help. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He met your gaze with an unfamiliar softness you’d never seen before. His heart skipped a beat.

That’s when he realized.

You fell first, but he fell harder. Way harder.

The whole time you were in Zou and Wano with him, he couldn’t stop staring at you. You shone like an angel in his vision. All your features amplified to make you more ethereal.

His teeth ground against each other whenever you got too close to one of your crew mates. Especially the blond cook. He swooned over you, and you laughed so wholesomely in response.

What he would do to just steal you for himself.

When Kaido and Big Mom were defeated, the whole country celebrating by holding a feast, Law offered to look around at all the games set up throughout the capital.

Happily, you dragged him around, completely forgetting that day when he said you were annoying.

He couldn’t stop admiring you as you indulged in the games.

His heart raced.

Ba-dump!

Ba-dump!

Ba-dump!

Gods, he couldn’t take it anymore.

So, he dragged you away, into a nearby alleyway. You flushed, asking him what was wrong. He was so red in the face that he looked feverish.

He hadn’t even touched you, yet he was drunk off of you. That same warmth he craved and missed.

Before you could question him any further, his lips brushed against yours, his hold on your wrist tightening. You gasped against him, not expecting the intimate contact.

Eagerly, you kissed him back.

He loved you too much for his own good.

“Come with me. Please. Leave this country with me.”

“Tra-.. Law. You know I can’t… I can’t do that.”

Fuck.

When he had to leave you behind, it felt like he was leaving half of his heart behind. With someone else. Under someone else’s supervision.

If anything happened to you, he’d steal you away without even asking for your permission.

But if something happened to him…

He just wanted you to know that he loved you.

[levanswrites]

In the Mood

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: He tells himself it’s fine. 

Gotta keep moving—bigger things to do, too many items on his list.  His libido doesn’t even crack the top ten. 

Until he met… you.

warnings: angst. aka the tortured mind™ of james buchanan barnes. sexual frustration, internalized guilt. mention of erectile dysfunction/anxiety around intimacy. eventual fluff.

word count: 1.5k

Bucky’s got… a list. 

Steve’s the one who planted the idea in his head—ways to keep his feet moving, even when his mind couldn’t. Granted, Bucky’s list isn’t tucked into a literal pocket-sized notebook, but it's there.

Some parts are harder than others—debts, loose ends, reparations.

Others, more straightforward. Try sushi. Learn how to download that album Sam won’t shut up about. Figure out the whole ‘zodiac sign compatibility’ thing.

And then there’s the… in-between. Somewhere between the boring and the impossible.

Pieces of normalcy that don’t sit quite right. Loose shrapnel from the fallout of who he once was. 

Like learning how to smile at strangers without feeling like he’s giving something away. Or making small talk that doesn’t spiral into awkward silence.  

Some things feel closer to second nature, though he still needs the safety net of familiarity and trust, like that time he flirted with Sarah just to rile Sam.  

But then again, the prospect of anything with real stakes, like when that blonde barista slipped him her number, sends him running for the hills. 

And between all the tiger photos on Tinder and—again, what the fuck was the deal with all the zodiac signs?—he’s quickly discovered that ‘dating’ in the 21st-century isn’t quite like it used to be. 

You ever hook up with a girl?   

He had just stared at Sam, then, with a slow lift of his metal arm like it was explanation enough.

Of course, there was the whole other issue of… mechanics. 

Something so unspoken and personal he’s barely admitted it to himself.

And he’s tried just about everything short of pills to fix it.

Articles, advice columns. Porn. Even dug out an old magazine or two for nostalgia’s sake, half-hoping it’d jog something loose. 

But most nights he’d come up limp, staring down a bottle of cheap whiskey as restlessness swallowed him whole.

And he tells himself it’s fine. 

Gotta keep moving—bigger things to do, too many items on his list. 

His libido doesn’t even crack the top ten. 

Until he met… you.

Caught him off-guard one night, in the produce aisle of some corner bodega, when he was busy frowning at a peach that didn’t look like a peach.

Donut peaches. Crazy, right?

Cocked him an easy smile, a basket full of groceries by your hip as you plucked a different fruit off the stand, its skin leathery smooth and blush pink. 

They’re out of season, though. Might wanna try these nectarines. 

Your smile stayed with him longer than it should’ve. 

So did the sound of your laugh, bright and untroubled, when you apologized for what he could only assume was an irresistibly charming grimace on his part. 

Shoot, sorry, occupational hazard. 

I like your jacket, by the way. 

And just like that, you had him.

The next few weeks were a blur of excuses to visit your small bakery, down by 22nd street. Setting up his laptop like he actually had work to do, just so he’d feel less like a creep when you’d step out from behind the register and spark up easy conversation. 

And somehow, between testing all your newest bakes and staying back till closing to walk you home, he’s missed that fragile window where it felt appropriate to tell you who he is—was. Whatever.

That the gloves weren't some quirky fashion choice, or because he’s got poor circulation. 

But then again, maybe it wasn’t all that accidental.

Because you’re virtually the only person alive who knows him as Bucky—only Bucky—and he thought offering up the truth would change things.

The way you smile, call him handsome. Tug him closer by the lapels of his jacket. 

Kissed him outside that wine bar in Brooklyn, then fixed his hair and the corner of his mouth where your strawberry lip gloss smudged. 

Grabbed his hand and draped it deliberately over your thigh, that one time he took you to see a picture about aliens and space wars—though he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember a single plot point afterward. 

That memory is a warm thing that turns cold fast. A flicker of heat curling low in his stomach, his hand twitching instinctively toward the space between his legs. 

Then, the spark would fizzle out, like a bucket of ice water dumped over his thoughts.  

And that’s when the spiral would start, the endless rabbit hole that is sex advice by strangers on the internet. Hunched over a dim screen, browser history stacked a mile high with unanswered questions about modern dating, with one particular query searing into his thoughts:

How long should you wait before having sex with someone for the first time?

Because, supposedly, the internet says three dates. To see if you’re really compatible. 

After that point, why even bother? 

And he had to lean back and hold his breath at that, because, shit—tomorrow was date #3. 

So when he showed up to the jazz bar you’d been wanting to try, at exactly ten minutes to 8, the bouquet in his gloved hand was quivering. Like the time he asked out Lucy Ann from the 7th grade.

He'd sought temporary reprieve in the way you gasped, delighted, branding a smile on his cheek with a chaste kiss. Just like you had for the flowers on the first date, then again at the second.

(Because, apparently, no one does this kind of thing anymore, and he had scoffed because—jesus, did guys make it this easy to impress a date nowadays?)

Later, you’d pulled him close under the neon glow of a sidewalk marquee, kissing him soft and slow like you had all night.  

Taste of merlot and something sweeter on your lips when you'd muttered: my place?

And that brings him here, in the narrow hallway of your apartment, just a couple steps from the door because you couldn’t wait for the couch.  

He’s got you pressed against the wall, lost in the plush yield of your lips, the smooth curve of your cheek under his thumb. Because he loves this part, he really does—the way you arch into him, slide your hands under his jacket. Your breaths, shallow and sweet, mixed in with the heady scent of your perfume.

How you smile, for no apparent reason other than the fact that kissing him seems to make you happy. 

But then there’s that quiet thought, again.

And he desperately wishes he was holding your hips for a different reason than to pull away. 

“Maybe,” he pants, swallowing hard because your eyes were making it hard to focus, “maybe we shouldn't…”

Your gaze settles on him for a brief moment, hazy and heavy-lidded. From the wine or from something else, he’s not sure he wants to know. 

Then, you pull back promptly, slipping under his arm and disappearing somewhere behind him. 

Now, he’s blinking, staring at an empty wall. 

Convinced that he’s fucked this all up, heart leaping to his throat, something pounding in his head—

Until he realizes that the vibration drumming against his ears is music. 

The soft croon of a clarinet, the brassy blare of trumpets—a familiar melody sweeps over him, and it makes his brows pinch because he knows this one.

A tune he can recognize, for once, wedged somewhere between humid nights on Coney Island and crowded USO dance halls. 

“C’mon!”

Your high pitched laugh against his ear, a gentle tug at his wrist. 

It hits like whiplash, then, the realization of what you’re asking him to do.  

And he feels like an assuming jerk for all the scenarios he’s been playing through his mind since last night—because while he was busy coming up with excuses for why he couldn’t get hard, or why he’s got a metal arm, or why he wakes up in the middle of the night hearing screams that might be his own—you had wanted to… dance. 

He lets himself be drawn by your radiant smile, into the tiny pocket of space where your kitchen meets your living room.

His heart stutters when your hand slides to his back, the other lacing around his gloved fingers. He’s supposed to lead, isn’t he?

Yet, his steps flow in tune with yours, falling into place like they never strayed in the first place.

“Not too bad,” you tease, eyes sparkling, body swaying. 

“…I gotta be honest, I—oh!” A high, happy sound tickles your throat when he spins you, arms arching high over your head. “—didn’t peg you for a dancer!”

His fingers itch to hold you closer. Adoration humming under his skin, threaded with disbelief, because how the hell did he manage to find this? To find you?         

“Guess I’ve got a few surprises left.”

You hum, tilting your head. “Mm, I like that. I’ll have to see what else I can get out of you.”

And the way you say it—all innocent and just a hint too sweet—sends a sudden rush of heat through him.

His breaths halt, feet frozen to the floor.

Shit, is that…?

Heat licks at his nerves, sparks jumping under his skin, and before he can stop to question it, it’s there. 

And instead of running, he leans in. 

The next twirl is deliberate, his hand steady against your waist as you come spinning back to him. 

He grins, the thrill of something new rising to the top of his list.

“Just try to keep up, huh?”

a/n: my first bucky fic! was a bit nerve-wracking branching out into other characters, but this was a lot of fun :) lemme know what u think!

[isabelckl]

southside carl: on going

carl gallagher x new neighbor!reader

moving to Southside, Chicago wasn’t part of the plan, but it happened fast after your dad lost his job. What started as a boring summer turned into years of growing up alongside the Gallagher chaos, becoming best friends with Debbie—and something more complicated with Carl Gallagher.

genre: angst, slow burn, enemies (friends) to lovers, teen fic, coming of age, fluff

♤ Southside Carl 1

♤ Southside Carl 2

♤ Southside Carl 3

♤ Southside Carl 4

♤ Southside Carl 5

♤ Southside Carl Interlude: Fifth Grade

♤ Southside Carl Interlude: Summer Snapshots

♤ Southside Carl Interlude: Sixth Grade

♤ Southside Carl 6

♤ Southside Carl 7

♤ Southside Carl 8

[kaayyyys]

Hey there! I would like to ask for a request? I was wondering if you could do a Daryl angst. So it’s set in the prison because I like just like Daryl when they were back there. (Sorry for my bad English, it’s not my first language) so what I was thinking is that fem reader has a crush on Daryl so she’s always like around him and wanting to help him especially after they left Merle on the roof. Daryl then lashed out at her for being too clingy and needy which she then tearfully apologised and started avoiding him, when he’s around her, she would lower her head and scurried away from him. He felt bad for lashing out at her so he planned on apologising when she came back from a supply run but when she did came back, she is unconscious (or dead, up to you :3) because they were attacked by a random group, Rick held her in his arms while yelling for Hershel. The rest I’ll leave it to you, tag me if you’re finished. Thank you!❤️

Oh my god . I absolutely love this request. Sorry it took so long I wanted this to be as good as I could .

@yanokokuboo

Would you like a part two ?

The prison loomed against the Georgia sky, a stark monument to survival in a world overrun. Inside, amidst the ever-present tension and the ghosts of the fallen, a different kind of battle was being fought – the silent, internal struggle of a heart yearning for a connection it wasn’t sure it deserved. (Y/N) watched Daryl Dixon from across the yard, her gaze drawn to the lean strength of his form as he sharpened arrows, his brow perpetually furrowed in concentration. She’d admired him from afar since they’d arrived, captivated by his quiet intensity, his unwavering loyalty, and the aura of untamed wildness that clung to him.

After Merle had been left on that rooftop in Atlanta, something inside Daryl had seemed to break. He became even more withdrawn, more guarded. (Y/N), her heart aching for him, found herself drawn to his side, offering silent support, a comforting presence in the storm raging within him. She’d bring him water, offer to clean his crossbow, or simply sit nearby, mending clothes, the quiet rhythm of her needle a counterpoint to the turmoil radiating from him.

She knew he was a loner, a man who preferred the company of silence and the hunt to the chatter of others. But she hoped, foolishly perhaps, that her presence was a comfort, a small flicker of light in his darkness. She’d seen glimpses of a softer side – the way he protected Carol, the gruff tenderness he showed to Judith. Maybe, just maybe, she could break through the walls he’d built so high, brick by painful brick.

One sweltering afternoon, after a particularly grueling scavenging run, (Y/N) found Daryl cleaning his crossbow in the shade of the watchtower. She approached hesitantly, offering him a canteen of water. "Here," she said softly, "you must be thirsty."

Daryl snatched the canteen, his movements jerky, his eyes dark. He took a long swig, then slammed the canteen down on the concrete. "Why are you always around?" he growled, his voice rough. "You're like a damn shadow, always followin' me. I don't need babysitting."

The words hit (Y/N) like a physical blow. The air in her lungs seemed to evaporate, leaving her gasping for breath. She stared at him, bewildered and hurt. "I… I just wanted to help," she stammered, her voice trembling.

"Help?" He scoffed, a harsh, humorless sound. "I don't need your help! I don't need anyone's help! Just leave me alone!"

The anger in his voice was like a physical force, pushing her back, shrinking her spirit. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. This wasn’t the Daryl she’d imagined, the one she’d built up in her heart. This was a raw, wounded animal, lashing out in pain.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, the words catching in her throat. "I... I didn't mean to bother you."

Turning, she fled, the tears streaming down her face, a silent testament to her shattered hopes. She didn't stop running until she reached her cell, collapsing on the thin mattress, the sobs wracking her body.

From that day forward, (Y/N) made a conscious effort to avoid Daryl. The hurt was too raw, the rejection too painful. She still admired him, still cared for him, but she couldn't bear to be near him, to risk another outburst, another shattering of her fragile heart. She focused on helping the others, tending to the garden, learning to defend herself. She tried to bury her feelings deep, to convince herself that what she felt for Daryl was just a fleeting infatuation, a silly crush.

Days turned into weeks. The prison life settled into a grim routine. (Y/N) noticed Daryl watching her, his gaze lingering longer than necessary. She saw a flicker of something in his eyes – regret, perhaps? – but she quickly looked away, unwilling to reopen the wound he’d inflicted.

Daryl, meanwhile, was wrestling with his own demons. He’d pushed (Y/N) away, lashed out at her kindness, and the guilt was eating at him. He saw her helping others, her laughter echoing in the yard, but her eyes never met his. She was polite, distant, a ghost of the girl who had once shadowed him with quiet devotion. He missed her presence, the unspoken understanding that had passed between them. He missed her.

He knew he had to apologize. He had to tell her he hadn’t meant to hurt her, that his anger was a reflection of his own inner turmoil, not a judgment of her. He planned to talk to her when she returned from the next supply run, to swallow his pride and beg for her forgiveness.

(Y/N) volunteered for the supply run, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the prison, to breathe fresh air, to feel the sun on her skin. She walked alongside Glenn and Maggie, the familiar weight of her rifle a comfort. The run was uneventful, but the emotional toll of the past weeks had taken its toll. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

On the way back, they were ambushed. A small group, desperate and crazed, emerged from the woods, brandishing knives and makeshift weapons. Glenn and Maggie fought bravely, but (Y/N), weakened and distracted, was quickly overwhelmed. She screamed as one of the attackers pinned her to the ground, the harsh fabric of his clothes scraping against her skin.

Hours stretched into an eternity. As dusk began to settle, casting long shadows across the prison yard, the gate creaked open. But it wasn't you who stumbled through. It was Rick, his face grim, his arms cradling a limp figure.

A strangled gasp escaped Daryl's lips as he recognized you. Your face was bruised and bloodied, your clothes torn. You were unconscious, your breathing shallow and ragged. Tears streamed down your face even in your sleep.

“Hershel!” Rick bellowed, his voice laced with panic. “Get Hershel, now!”

A wave of nausea washed over Daryl. He pushed through the gathering crowd, his heart pounding in his chest. What happened? Who did this to you? He saw the torn fabric of your shirt, the angry welts on your arms, and a white-hot rage ignited within him.

"What the hell happened?" Daryl roared, his voice a feral snarl. He grabbed a nearby survivor by the collar, his grip tight. "Who did this to her?"

The survivor stammered, "They… they were ambushed. A group of them… tried to take their supplies."

Daryl shoved him aside, his eyes fixed on your still form in Rick's arms. "Damn it!" he screamed, the raw anguish tearing through him. "Damn it all to hell!"

He watched as Hershel rushed forward, his face etched with concern. They gently lowered you onto a makeshift cot in the infirmary. Daryl hovered, his body trembling with a mixture of fear and fury.

"Get out of the way, Daryl," Rick ordered, his voice firm. "Hershel needs room to work."

"No!" Daryl refused, his voice defiant. "I ain't goin' nowhere."

He watched as Hershel examined your wounds, his movements swift and efficient. The silence in the room was broken only by your labored breathing and the occasional murmur from Hershel.

Daryl felt a wave of guilt wash over him, so potent it almost brought him to his knees. He had pushed you away, rejected your kindness, and now… now you were lying here, broken and bleeding. He had been so consumed by his own pain that he hadn't seen the danger lurking around you. He had failed to protect you.

"This is my fault," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "All my fault."

Rick placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip surprisingly gentle. "Don't do that, Daryl. It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was!" Daryl snapped, shaking off Rick's hand. "I should have… I should have been there. I should have protected her."

He paced the small room, his frustration building with each passing moment. “Why wasn’t I there? Why did I let her go on that run?”

He knew, deep down, that his anger wasn't directed at Rick or Hershel or even the scavengers who had attacked you. It was directed at himself. He had pushed you away, silenced his growing feelings, and now he might lose you.

As Hershel continued to work, Daryl remained by your side, his eyes never leaving your face. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, his fingers trembling. He didn't know what the future held, but one thing was certain: he wouldn't let you go again. He would protect you, even if it meant facing his own demons head-on. He would spend the rest of his days trying to earn your forgiveness, to prove that he was worthy of your love. He just needed you to wake up

[bwabys-scenarios]

Adoration or Obsession?

Yandere!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: mentions of past choking, Kurapika is pretty unstable and clingy, possessive/obsessive behavior

A/N: this is based off of this ask, so if you want context, go read that first!! Just wanted to show the aftermath of that situation, because Kurapika is very intent on trying to make it up to you… he just loves you :(

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, I have three. SFW, NSFW, and YANDERE. Just reply with which one/s you want.‼️

YANDERE TAGLIST: @adissonsss @lightshowerrr

Kurapika had been a bit distant after the incident at first, avoiding you unless it he needed to tend to your injuries. It seemed his rational side was trying to tell him to give you space to recover, to heal without him breathing down your neck…

But you wouldn’t be there, stuck in his home against your wishes if Kurapika always listened to his rational side.

So in the middle of the night, just two days after ‘the incident’s you could the empty side of your bed sink under someone’s weight, and soon after hands wrapped around your waist, pulling your back flush against a warm chest.

“I’m so sorry…”

You knew it was Kurapika who had entered your bed, but you hadn’t expected to feel tears soaking into your shirt and neck as he clung to you tightly. “So sorry, my angel… I knew you were just saying those things out of frustration, and yet…”

You could feel his arms stiffen when your breath hitched slightly as he kissed your neck. The bruises he left were still tender, every touch making you writhe in pain.

“F-fuck, it hurts doesn’t it? Oh my love…”

His grip tightened, and he wrapped his legs around you, clinging to you for dear life. Before he kidnapped you, Kurapika had been your dear friend, someone you loved with your entire heart. You knew how terrified he was to lose you, the last person he had.

And the knowledge that he could have been the very one to take your life away had him shaking in both anger and fear. He had taken you away for a reason, to keep you safe from those who wished to harm you.

And yet he had been the one putting his hands on you, someone he had dedicated his life to protecting. He still couldn’t get the sound of you choking out of his mind, the sight of the light starting to leave your eyes as you stopped fighting him.

He still had claw marks on his hands from your desperate attempts to survive. Kurapika would have a constant reminder of his actions, of what he did to you, his beloved.

“Kurapika…”

His attention was drawn to you when you spoke up, your voice soft and hoarse due to your injuries. “Yes, my love?”

“I’m… I’m sorry…”

Kurapika went deadly silent. The fear in your shaky voice was enough to tear his heart into millions of pieces. He had never wanted you to fear him, Kurapika wanted you to love and need him more than anything.

“No, no no no… don’t apologize, shh… I know you didn’t mean it, I shouldn’t have… I…”

He started to choke up, his heart racing and his eyes scarlet as he remembered seeing your nen energy growing weaker.

You weren’t a nen user, you could t control it like he could, and you were going to die. Kurapika had nearly killed you. If he hadn’t of snapped out of it in that moment and let you go so you could breathe, you would be dead.

“You’re… you’re fine. You’re with me, everything is okay.” Kurapika said, trying to reassure himself more than anything. He began to rock you back and forth, cooing softly as he pressed kisses into your cheeks and temple.

“You’re mine, and I’ll take care of you. I would… I will never hurt you again. Ever.”

Though a bit afraid, you were able to fall asleep soon enough from the gentle rocking. It helped that he was using his nen to help ease the pain in your neck, healing it slowly, day by day.

When you woke up, Kurapika was awake, bags under his eyes as he watched you. His hands were petting you, caressing your face and running over your hair. “You’re awake…”

He sighed in relief, relaxing against the bed. You rubbed your eyes, and noticed his were red and puffy from crying. Kurapika just looked exhausted overall.

“Did you… sleep?”

He looked away from you, his thumb rubbing against your cheek. “… a little. But…”

Kurapika couldn’t sleep much, worrying that somehow you would die in the middle of the night. So he stayed up, watching over you until you woke up.

“… I need a shower…”

You sat up and walked towards the bathroom door, a bit disturbed when he followed you. “Um…”

“Shh…”

He walked in with you, turning on the shower and grabbing you a towel. “I… won’t look. But I’m staying in here while you shower.”

His words left no room for arguing, so you undressed and got into the shower. You were too tired to complain, and too afraid of what he might do if you asked him to leave. You could tell he was unstable now, and you couldn’t predict what he was thinking or going to do when he was like this.

And it scared you.

Kurapika knew he was being clingy and selfish, but he just couldn’t shake the fear that if he left you alone for even a second, something bad would happen.

As soon as you were dressed, he was back to clinging to you. Before he had taken you away, when the two of you were madly in love, you would have been incredibly happy to have all of his attention on you.

But now all you wanted was to be left alone. He was smothering you, keeping your body flush against his as he breathed in the smell of your shampoo.

He just wanted to know that you were still here… that you were still all his.

Kurapika wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. “… I’m sorry, (Name).”

You didn’t respond, simply holding onto his shirt.

“I’m sorry I can’t love you like a normal man could. You’d probably be much happier with someone that didn’t keep you locked up in a cage like some sort of exotic animal. Someone that wasn’t so scared to lose you that he hurt you himself…”

He held onto you so tight you winced.

“But I’m selfish.”

Tears dropped onto your head, and he choked up. “I’m so selfish (Name), and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I’ll never be able to let you go.”

You weren’t really sure how to feel. On one hand, there was a time where you had loved Kurapika more than anything… but on the other, he was now your captor, keeping you from being free.

Still… you buried your face into his neck. Even captive birds wanted their owner’s comfort sometimes, and they even could give some comfort back.

“Don’t cry… let’s… just go back to bed.”

Despite the fact it was early morning, he didn’t protest, carrying you back to bed and pulling the blanket over your bodies.

“I love you…”

The words were soft, full of affection and a hint of guilt, as if his love was something shameful and scary. You nodded, laying you head against his chest as he held you tightly.

“Love you too…”

[lydiimae]

Strains and Stresses

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x !fem reader

Warnings: Light hints at sex, mentions of drinking, the ton being cruel to the reader, Anthony fighting with the reader, old concepts about class and womanhood, a very icky insult thrown at the reader by Anthony, fluffy fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.8k

A.N: Hello my sweet loves <3 I am so sorry I have not updated in a while, I just finished finals so life has been hectic. Also- I got a job FINALLY T-T and, more importantly, the class that I was going to take during the summer fell through so I will have much more time to write! BTW THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLOWERS HOLY \^-^/. You are all so kind to me. Anyway, this is a fic based on a request that you can find here and here. I decided to mix the two, as it is a semi-angsty Ant fic that ends in fluff. I hope you enjoy my darling Anons. For those who have requested a fic, I promise they are coming! I am planning on knocking another one or two out next week, but I wanted to write a Ben fic before as he is a big comfort character for me and I need some of that energy lol. P.S. I listened to the slowed version of Futile Devices while I wrote this, because it is just what I imagine falling in love and loving would feel like. Enjoy <3

You adored working for Lady Danbury, who wouldn't? She is an incredible woman, and so very strong. You admired her, for being so independent. You thought that that would be the life you lead, alone and working out your days as a maid. Then, you met him.

Met would be the wrong word, it was more of... stumbling into him after a young debutante 'accidentally' ran into you. You knew who Anthony Bridgerton was, of course. His reputation preceded him. Many of your friends and fellow maids had spoken of how harsh, how blunt, how much of a rake, the Viscount was.

For you, however, he had never been brash nor cruel, nor had he ever lived up to his reputation. For you, he was kind, gentle, and even sweet. He had placed a steadying hand on your back and met your eyes and you knew it was over.

From then on at every ball Lady Danbury held, you would always follow him to the gardens, stealing kisses in her in-home library, and sharing stolen glances from across the ballroom. After the balls, he would take you to his townhouse and you would both spend hours speaking of your lives, your dreams, your troubles. He was nothing but a gentleman.

You tried your best to ignore the strange warmth that bloomed in your chest when you were with him. In a way, you always knew that you would end up with him. You believed that your lives were intertwined, like a string wrapped around your soul that only stopped tugging when you were near him. It was comforting.

He had expressed his love to you about seven months in, on a Sunday morning in bed. The yellow hue of the morning sunrise made it feel like you were in heaven, his hands running against your sides like you were made from the finest porcelain. He said it easily as if it was the most simple thing he had ever had to do. A simple "I love you." was murmured into your ear before his lips pressed against your forehead. Just as easily came the proposal, more of a promise, right there in the same bed.

It was simple, perhaps even plain, but not to you. To you, it showed he was comfortable enough to express his feelings, and his deepest wants, just to you. It was intimate, the light cascading down upon his skin as if he were a god, bringing out every contour and mark on his body.

After the announcement of your engagement, rumors spread like wildfire. Every house in Mayfair was a spark that made the fire grow, little trails of flame splitting off along the way until the fire was all-consuming. He had warned you that the rumors would be bad, that not many would express their support for the union of a maid and a Viscount. You just did not expect it to be so suffocating.

You found solace in his embrace, as you always did, spending countless nights wrapped in the silk sheets at his townhouse, listening to his whispers of affection and praise until they eased the tears that had spilled down your cheeks.

It went on like this for the three long months leading up to the wedding. You were married in the spring, surrounded by his loved ones as yours had passed long ago. It was small enough to feel the heavy weight of the ton lifted off of your shoulders, if only for a moment.

You honeymooned in Bath, spending time in the hillsides on worn blankets for hours, allowing your skin to be tanned by the sun. When you would go back to the villa you were staying at, you would spend the night wrapped in his bare embrace, relishing in the feeling of his skin upon yours. It was the most calming, loving, and divine three months of your life.

It has been almost eight months since the honeymoon ended. Six months of putting up with the cruel words spoken by members of the ton, of sticking to his side at balls just so you could try and shake the feeling of the many glares sent your way. Six months of learning not only what it is to be a Viscountess, but what it is like to be a noblewoman.

Anthony had spent a month teaching you the proper etiquette that came with being a noblewoman, a lot of it being common sense thanks to Lady Danbury's way of ruling around her home. However, there were some things you found to be too niche to remember. One thing was that a lady could not go out on a walk by herself.

As a maid, walks alone in the gardens of Lady Danbury's estate had become a part of your daily routine. You would often spend countless hours sitting beneath a willow tree flipping pages of a new book or you would walk around the grounds, seeking solace in the fresh air to clear your mind after a particularly hard day. You never snuck out alone, except to see Anthony, and even then you did nothing untoward, which is why it was so hard for you to remember this silly rule. It was one you forgot today, too.

"Thank you, Rose." You hum to your lady's maid as she finishes your hair. She smiles and curtsies in return. "Of course, my lady. You need only ask if you need anything else." She says before she walks out of the room. You sigh, the title the servants address you with will never not feel strange. You adjust your jewels before standing up and walking to the window.

You had been told as you woke that your husband would be in his study today, claiming he must work on the financial affairs, meaning you have the day to yourself. The view from the master bedroom was a gorgeous one, the windows overlooking the entirety of the lands that Aubery Hall encompassed. You smile to yourself, deciding to take a stroll, perhaps even find a spot to enjoy your new book of sonnets Anthony's brother gifted you.

You pluck the book in question off of your bedside table before walking down the grand staircase. The house, other than the footsteps of the servants, is quiet. No one around to stop you from enjoying some time outside, alone. You grab your parasol and open the door, stepping out into the summer air before making your way around the lands of the estate.

Anthony leans back in his desk chair, stretching out his limbs after finishing the last piece of paperwork he has on his desk. He takes a large swig of bourbon before standing up and moving to the window, pulling the curtains open.

He glances out over the sprawling hills of the estates, swirling the copper liquid in his glass as he takes in the view. As his eyes roam, he spots a small figure making their way up one of the hills. At first, he thinks it a servant, probably out to collect fresh flowers for his bedroom upon his wife's request, but when he glances again he sees your parasol. The one he brought back from one of his ventures to France.

He can feel himself getting angry. He had drilled this into your head one too many times, never be anywhere alone, not in public and not on private lands. The servants whisper, and their gossip spreads even faster than the gossip of the bloodthirsty Mamas of the ton. He downs the rest of his bourbon before slamming the glass on his desk. He rounds it and grabs his velvet jacket from its place on the back of his chair, slinging it around his shoulders before stomping out of the room.

You are just about to sit down when you hear the calling of your name from towards the estate. You look over your shoulder, leaning on your closed parasol, to find your husband hurriedly making his way over to where you stand.

At first, you think that something bad might've happened, perhaps he found something in the many documents that was awry, but you know that is not the case from the way he is walking. Stomping, rather. He is angry, furious even, so you try and wrack your mind to find what you have done to make him this angry.

Before you can he is upon you, one of his large hands encircling your wrists and dragging you away from the hill. "Anthony, do not grab me like some sort of brute!" You yelp, trying to tug away from his bruising grip, which he only tightens upon your plea. "I shall grab you however I wish." He snarls, making your eyes widen. "Be quiet until we are inside."

He tugs you along until you are both inside of his study, where he slams the door and locks it. You begin to speak but he quickly interrupts. "Have you any idea of what you could have just done by being out there, Y/N?!" He shouts, making you take several steps back in surprise. "I was only going for a walk." You whisper and he scoffs. "A walk alone, you foolish woman!" He continues, his voice only getting louder.

The insult sends anger through your veins. "You shall not insult your own wife for merely going outside!" You shout back and he narrows his eyes almost dangerously. "I have told you hundreds of times that you are not permitted outside without a proper companion, Y/N! Going against that is indeed foolish as I have hammered it into your head countless times!" He shouts. "I am not foolish! This is all new for me! I-" You start but he is quick to respond.

"New? That is rich! Utterly rich, because to me it has been eleven months! Eight of which you have been here, doing your duties as my Viscountess!" He shouts louder, on the verge of screaming. You press yourself against the wall opposite to him. "Did they not teach you anything in your time as a maid?! You still act like a common whore even though we have fought about this too many times to count! I am tired of it!" He shouts.

Common whore. The title cuts straight through you like a hot knife, the burns making your eyes well up with tears. The title has been used to spite you at every ball, in every gossip letter, and in every whisper you have heard in the last year. It does not hurt coming from them any longer, but from him? From your husband? It feels like he has damaged your very being.

You stand there stunned, watching his mouth move but hearing no words. "You think I am a common whore?" You whisper and he stops, looking at you. You are pressed against the wall, your arms hugging your frame, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. His body language visibly changes from that of an angered husband to a guilty one.

"Y/N I did not mean-" He begins but you shake your head. "You most certainly did mean it, it came out of your mouth!" You sob. "I was angry! I am angry!" He shouts, more in a desperate act now, wishing he could reverse time. "So?!" You shout, your gloved hands pressing into your bare arms. "I have never once insulted you like that! Never once used what has been said about you as a weapon for merely-" You laugh bitterly, shaking your head and looking away. "For merely going outside." You scoff.

He falters and visibly slumps in defeat. "It is foolish, but they will talk, Y/N. You know-" He begins quietly, but again you do not let him finish. "Yes, Anthony. They will talk, they will say the words you have just spoken to me." You say, wiping your eyes. "I forgot, and I know you have drilled every rule into my head but this is not the norm for me." You whisper

"When I was a maid, no, even when I was a little girl, I would go wherever I wished alone. I would pick up food at the market for my family, and take my brother to his job at the factory, and now I cannot even go outside alone? Upon my husband's private lands, no less?" You whisper. "So forgive me, Anthony, for forgetting rules that you and your siblings have grown up abiding by. I am trying to learn and remember them now, after living a very different life." You say, looking at your feet in an attempt to stop the tears. As if not looking at him will somehow ease the sting of his words.

He scoops you into his arms without thinking about it, pressing his forehead to yours. "Y/N, you know I did not mean it." He whispers and you frown, trying to tug away. "No, no. I might've meant it in the moment, and I know I cannot take it back." He amends, his hold on you tightening. Still, you refuse to meet his eyes. "Darling, please look at me. I swear I shall never say anything as cruel as what I did ever again." He whispers, his fingers curling around your chin so he can bring your gaze back to him.

When your eyes meet his he offers a sad smile, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. "It was cruel. No, no. Cruel is too kind of a word, it was vile, for me to utter such a word when speaking of my own wife." He whispers, his hand coming down to your cheek. "I swear to you that I mean it when I say I am sorry, you shall never know how sorry I am for saying something so disgusting to you."

He continues, his thumbs swiping away the tears that have now begun to flow again. "You are the most important thing to me. I have done a terrible job of showing you that today. I shall spend every day trying to ease the pain of my foolish words." He vows, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I know this is hard for you, the rules of society are so... foolishly strict for women and even I cannot imagine how much stress they are adding upon everything else" He murmurs, and you tug at his sleeve, willing him into an embrace.

You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and allow yourself to cry. "Shhh, Y/N. You are perfect, no matter your status." He whispers in your ear, running one of his hands up and down your back as the other rests on your hip. "I am not a good Viscountess, Anthony." You whisper and his grip on you tightens. "Hush. You are the perfect Viscountess, Y/N. The perfect Bridgerton." He promises.

"You have been learning so quick, one slip-up of an utterly foolish rule does not discount the many months where you have been perfect." He whispers, pressing his lips to the side of your head. "Neither do the words of your brutish husband." He teases quietly and your lips turn up a bit. "The gossiping Mamas will find another topic in time, my love. They are merely jealous that their daughters are still stuck without a husband while you are here." He murmurs and you nod.

He pulls back and cups your cheeks, watching your eyes flutter shut. "Better?" He whispers, running his thumbs along your cheekbones. You nod and he sighs in relief, bringing you closer to his chest. "I will never be able to express how sorry I am for saying that to you." He whispers. You smile, leaning into his touch and nodding.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and wipes the remainder of your tears away before pulling back a bit. "We shall have a picnic." He whispers and you open your eyes, laughing. "We do not have to" You giggle and he grins, shaking his head. "Nonsense, we must. I have been cooped up inside all day and I wish to spend time with you, in the sunshine." He hums, pressing his lips to your nose.

An hour later you are both lying down on a lacy blanket, a picnic basket full of sweet treats. Two glasses of wine stand abandoned on the grass, being forgotten in a mess of kisses. Your head is resting on his chest, your hands clasped together over one of his legs. "I love you." He whispers, pressing a kiss to your brow. Your eyes are shut but you smile. "And I love you." You whisper back, falling asleep while bathed in sunlight.

How divine it feels to be loved by Anthony Bridgerton.

[fangirlfuel]

SPOILERS ⚠️

(For my next Max Verstappen x OC series)

----

"I can’t do this anymore, Max."

The words fell from my lips before I could stop them.

He sat across from me in that tiny café outside of Zandvoort, hood over his head, sunglasses hiding his eyes. But nothing could hide the crack in his voice.

"Please don’t say that."

I looked down at my coffee — untouched.

"I’m not asking you to ruin your life. I’m asking you to let me live mine. I want to go out with someone who’s proud to be with me. I want to introduce my boyfriend to my family. I want to hold hands without checking for paparazzi."

He reached out, gently, covering my hand with his. His fingers were trembling.

"You think I don’t want all that with you? I wake up every day thinking about you. I go to sleep with your name in my head. I lie to the world, every day, because I’m trying to keep this alive. For you. For us."

Tears blurred my vision.

"Then make it real, Max. Or let me go."

----

Please comment that you want to be added to the tag list on this post ,because once I will post The first Ch the tag list will be closed and I will not add anyone anymore!

Taglist ⤵️

: @maxmaxmaxsupermax

@sporadicbananajellyfish

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@mynameisangeloflife

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----

[alienseasfanfics]

Friction: Part 3

Series: Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!traumatized!reader Overall Summary: When you're targeted by a violent stalker, Sam sends Bucky to guard you in a remote safehouse. You clash instantly, but in the growing tension, something more fragile begins to take root. If you can learn to trust him in time. No Thunderbolts spoilers!

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Reluctant Attraction, Forced Proximity, Yearning, Protective Bucky/Reader.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: trauma response/disassociation, general violence, bombs, gun mention, kidnapping/experimentation. Reader is hard on herself for a bit :,)

You wake up with a headache and a heartache, legs twisted in the sheets and eyes closed from sleep.

The dreams you get when you’re asleep are horrible, but the reality of being awake is just as bad. Even with the hangover drowning out your thoughts with pain, everything from last night is crystal clear. The bar. The seedy man whose arm snaked its way around your waist. If the alcohol hadn’t numbed your world, the whole night would have blown up then. Your wrists feel heavy with the memory of invisible handcuffs.

And still somehow, the worst part was Bucky. The thought of him, watching from whatever dark corner he melts away into, then coming to your rescue. The fact you needed it is shameful.

Weakness. A word you know too well. One that you know you don’t want to show, especially not to him.

Then, of course, the car. ‘A shield, not a bomb’. How deadly ironic. How sweet. Why did he have to say it then, after you already humiliated yourself?

‘I would do that again for you in a heartbeat.’ He’d said it like a promise, but he doesn’t know what he’s promising that to. All he sees is someone pitiful and small, not the person that’ll hurt him if he gets too close.

And that’s the worst part of it all. You’d take the cuffs if it meant it kept you away from him. It would be easier if he hated you, but the new fact that he doesn’t is worse. That means he’ll try to connect.

Your body is a trap waiting to spring. Why does he insist on keeping with you, as if he’s looking to be caught?

Creaking from the top of the stairs breaks you out of your whirling thoughts. You slow your breathing, trying to sound as if you’re asleep.

Thankfully, the landing creaks again, and you hear the low thunks of his footsteps going down the stairs. Letting out a sigh, you finally open your eyes to the dim room. Time to seize the day.

It takes you ten minutes to get up. Your headache gets worse once vertical.

As you get downstairs, Bucky looks at you over his shoulder, newspaper open in his hands. His clenched jaw softens as he looks you over. You wave a little, feeling a little silly but not wanting to speak. The corner of his mouth flicks up.

“Hey, party queen. How you feelin’?” He chirps.

“Ugh.”

“To be expected. Have some coffee.” He waves a hand towards the steaming cup on the table next to him. After a moment you go over, standing on the other side of the couch as you take the mug. The heat from it easily warms your cold fingertips, and you rub your thumb on the handle. He glances up from the paper, then fully looks up at you before folding the paper and tossing it onto the coffee table.

He looks back at you, leaning back and resting a metal elbow on the armrest, rubbing his stubbly beard with the same hand. He says nothing, just watching you as you drink, using the coffee to stop any words from bubbling out. You know what they would be. Either small pitiful things to make yourself smaller, or barbs to scare him off. Maybe he would take the bait, leaving you alone. Maybe that would help the pit in your stomach.

You look over him, avoiding his stormy blue eyes. Instead, you look at the rest of him, scanning his shirt, his pants, his tanned hand resting on the seat of the pleather couch and playing absentmindedly with the seam. He has a scar on his knuckle. You sip and wonder where he got it from, if it hurt. He scratches his throat and breaks the silence himself.

“You hungover?”

“Nah, I usually wake up with a pounding headache and an aversion to sunlight.” You say dryly. The corner of his mouth tugs up.

“You sound like a vampire.”

“I am. If you aren’t careful, I’ll suck you dry.”

“Hmm. Really? Didn’t think you were that kind of girl.”

You blush lightly, bringing the mug to your lips longer in an effort to hide your cheeks. He still must see it, with that never-ending gaze of his, because he flashes a wolfish smile that makes your chest flutter horribly. You cough before you answer.

“You’re a dirty old man.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it. All you, doll.” He says, like it’s nothing.

Nicknames aren’t new to you, but this one is different. It lands differently when coming from him. You’re not sure why it comforts you. Maybe it’s the roughness of his voice, or the slight twang of an old accent coming through. It sounds distinctly like him, a piece of his inner voice given briefly as an offering.

He stretches as he gets up, letting out a quiet grunt as he raises his arms above his head. His thin t-shirt clings to him, tanned skin peeking out from between its hem and his jeans. His metal arm glitters in the sunlight creeping in through the closed blinds. As he lets go of the stretch, he sighs, the tension in his shoulders melting away. You look away quickly enough that you can pretend that you haven’t looked, distracted instead by coffee and the dregs of sleep still left in your eyes.

He steps towards you and your body reacts first, backing away from him quickly. He pauses, showing his hands, palms open towards you as if surrendering.

“I’m just going to the kitchen.” He says quietly, as if speaking to an animal crouched in the corner. You get onto the couch and fold your legs against your chest, making yourself unobtrusive. He sidesteps you, keeping the distance you’ve made between you both. Once he leaves, you stretch out, rubbing your feet on the rough rug on the floor.

“I gotta fix somethin’ in the car today. Tried going out this morning for coffee and it wasn’t working. So, I’m sorry, but this is the last cup until I can get that going again.” That piques your interest. You quickly turn on the couch to face him. He glances over at you and his brow raises a little, quizzical. “You that addicted to caffeine? It’ll just take me a few hours, I promise.”

“No, no. What happened to the car?”

“Brakes weren’t responding like I’d like them to last night. We were slipping a bit.” Your brain whirs through a million possible reasons, the engine and body of the sedan outside opening in your imagination.

“Common. It was shuddering, right?” The rumbles of the car beneath your legs last night was an afterthought in your drunk mind, but the information comes quickly to the forefront sober. “Sounds like the rotors are warped. 2012 Honda Civic parts come cheap, at least. Still got to wait for them.” You sip again, glancing up at him. His eyes are wide, and you stop mid-drink.

“What?” You ask. Then, he chuckles. It’s a low rumble that washes over you like fireworks.

“You know all that? You’re a mechanic now?” He asks. You bristle, but the look in his eyes is true, admiring instead of accusing. You shrug a shoulder, relaxing and putting the mug down. Bracing yourself on an elbow, you half-turn towards him.

“Nah. Civics are some of the easiest cars to repair.”

“Done it often?”

“Not on 2012’s. Not really even on cars. I’ve mainly worked on pieces of them. Some basic machines, too. They’re all parts at the end of the day; you just have to know how each one works.” Your gaze is firmly on him, but anywhere other than his eyes.

He’s leaning against the counter now, the small of his back pressed against the lip and his arms crossed over his chest. He leans into the room like it belongs to him. Either that, or its a farce. Covering discomfort with confidence. Sometimes, when he thinks you’re avoiding him, he’s curled in on himself. Bent over the table with his arms on either side of his head, as if he’s a boxer defending his face. Now, he’s free and open.

“Wanna come help?” He asks, breaking your thoughts, and your heart leaps against your ribs.

“Really? Help? Or do you just wanna make me do it?” You joke, but you ask.

“I won’t make you do anything, doll.” You match his gaze. You say nothing for a moment, and neither does he as he waits. For you to talk. The words stick in your throat but you force them through anyway.

“Yeah. I’d like to.”

-

“Can you hand me – yeah, thank you.” You place the wrench he needs in his outstretched metal hand, being careful not to touch him. Even with him under the car and you on an upside-down bucket a couple feet away, you feel too close to him. He wheels back under the chassis on the repurposed skateboard you found in the old garage the car is sitting in to keep you both away from the sun.

It was small in here, dark and dank with the smell of gas, grease, and the sickening wisps of cigarettes from the inside of the car. Hot sun streamed through the open garage door. You let your head loll back into it, closing your eyes in a moment of rare relaxation. Both good and bad memories are associated with this smell, but this is a new experience altogether. You can get up and walk back inside if you want to. You’re not chained to the floor, scraps of exploded metal at your feet, cigarette smoke turning the room to haze and confusing your parts together. If you left, Bucky wouldn’t care at all.

“You were right. Rotors were shot.” Metal tings against the stained concrete as he tosses one out by your feet. You pick it up, grease covering your fingertips. It’s bent to hell.

“Lord. How much have you hit the brakes?” You quip. The car muffles his chuckle.

“It’s one of Sam’s cars. I’m pretty sure he abuses them all.”

“I guess if you could fly, being trapped in a tin can on the ground makes you frustrated.”

“Then he needs to fix his cars as much as he fixes that damn red spy-pigeon he has strapped to his back.” He throws out the other rotor, wheeling out after it. His short-cropped hair glitters in the sun, sweat beading at his brow. You flick your eyes back to the garage.

“I think he likes the more finicky things. Cars are big, cumbersome.” You say, shrugging a shoulder. Bucky sits up, going to run a hand through his hair but pausing, looking at his greasy hand. You toss him a rag sitting on the tool bench, him murmuring his thanks. He’s methodical as rubs his hands, going over every inch as if scrubbing in for surgery.

“And you?” He says, breaking your trance.

“And I what?”

“What do you like to fix? Or do you not like getting your hands dirty?” He’s looking up at you.

“I get my hands dirty all the time.” You scoff.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Good to know.” He says, smirking.

You bite the inside of your lip, quickly looking away from him.

“I’ve mainly fixed power generators. Some engines, but they were cobbled together from other engines. Like a Frankenstein of car parts.” You rush.

“Hmm. So you know a lot about a lot, then?”

The compliment heats up your cheeks, and you turn towards the sun, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“I guess you could say that. It does make it difficult when I see a fully assembled engine. It looks too perfect. I don’t know where to begin.”

“Well, usually with the broken part.” You look back at him and roll your eyes. He gives another wolfish grin, making your stomach do a flip. The sun shows off more of him, bathing him in a glow you can’t find in the house. Maybe you should open the blinds more, let more of the sun dance around the dark corners. How much more of him would you see?

“I was gonna do some basic maintenance too. You wanna see this engine? I can give you a tour.”

“Is that your idea of a pick-up line?” You ask, faux innocently. Might as well play with him too. He stills before smirking again.

“Only if you say yes.” He says solemnly.

“Such a gentleman. Just show me the engine, Bucky.” You snort.

He stares up at you for a moment before getting up in one fluid motion, picking the car up off the jack with his metal hand. You quickly kick the jack away and he lets the sedan down gently. Every time he shows his strength, you marvel at it. There’s knowing he’s a super soldier, experimented on, serum flowing through his veins, and then there’s seeing it. You’re split on whether it makes you feel protected, unsafe, or less alone. You settle on an unsettling mixture of all three as he moves around to the front of the car, opening the lid of the engine and beckoning you over. You follow suit quickly.

His shirt brushes against your arm as he leans over to point at something, and your neurons crackle in response. You tell yourself he doesn’t notice the way you lean into him.

“You know what that is?” He asks, and you can feel his eyes on the side of your face as you study it.

“Oil dipstick.”

“Good, you’re right.” His praise makes your stomach flutter again. The air between you starts feeling electric, and you take a small side-step away. He doesn’t seem to notice as he motions to something close by again.

“And that?”

“Uhm...” You stare at it, but all you can think about are the little zaps you feel between your fingers. “Brake fluid reservoir?”

“Close. Clutch fluid reservoir. Over there is the brake fluid.” He waves a hand at some other part, then leans back and crosses his arms. You let out a little breath that you didn’t think you were holding. “If you really want to impress me, show me where the blinker fluid is.”

You examine for a minute, before rolling your eyes again and looking up at him. He looks bemused but holding it in, biting the inside of his lip and smirking down at you.

“Did you really think you’d get me with that?” You scoff, and he laughs. It matches the warmth that comes up to your cheeks. You haven’t blushed this much in your life, but now all it takes is a few nice words and some laughter from him and you’re a mess.

“No, not really. But I thought I might as well try.” He says.

“Blinker fluid isn’t real, muffler bearings aren’t real, and elbow grease comes from hard work.” You say. He nods slowly.

“Alright, alright. I won’t haze you anymore. Check the oil for me, and I’ll check the tire pressures.” He says, tossing you the rag and walking around to the back of the car.

You take your time, taking out the dipstick and running it across a clean part of the towel, watching him from the corner of your eyes. He’s looking at you too, and when you match gazes, electricity crackles up your spine.

This is all getting to be too much. The smell of grease and sweat, heat against your back, tools all around you. Mixing that with the closeness of him, the easy laughter he’s sharing with you, the way he talks with you as if you’re his equal. His friend, even. The war in your head is growing louder and louder, and you count wordlessly. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 1. 2. 3.

“Tires are fine. Oil?” He’s suddenly next to you again, and you almost drop the stick.

“Could use some, I think.” Your mouth is dry.

“Alright. You know how?”

“Yes.”

“You want to?”

“Yes.” You say it too quickly, rushing around him to the side of the sedan. He comes over and lifts the car again, and you kick the jack underneath.

“You know, I could just hold it up.” He says as he puts it gently down onto the stand, and you shake your head.

“I’d rather not be crushed if you need to sneeze.” You say, and he laughs again.

“You really think I’d let you be crushed?” He says gently. Your brain shorts for a second.

“Not on purpose.”

“Never on purpose. I’m not that mean.” He kicks an old tray to you as you lower yourself on the skateboard, and you bring it with you as you wheel under.

You both sit in silence as you concentrate, unscrewing the drain plug quickly, but not quick enough to get your hand out of the way of the oil. You watch it for a moment, trying to calm down, but not managing to before it finishes draining. Your heart still beats fast, especially when Bucky bends down and smiles at you.

“All done?” He asks, and you nod, pulling yourself out from underneath after re-screwing the oil pan shut. You wipe some sweat off your cheek with the back of your wrist, taking a deep breath. He’s already gotten to the engine to pour new oil in. You stand up to go near him, watching from one side of the engine bay. He looks up at you, smiling at first, but then his brow furrows slightly. He beckons with his free hand.

“C’mere.” Your skin crackles. You hesitate, but he beckons again. Some tiny part of you steps forward as if Bucky is tugging on a fishing line. You have the sinking feeling this will end up bad, but the bait is too tantalizing. The risk that makes your heart flutter and the logical part of your brain scream.

Then, it happens.

With his metal hand, he reaches up to your cheek, thumb wiping a spot under your eye. His fingers curl slightly around your jaw, pawing your face. The combination of the soft touch with his gaze, and the smell of pervasive grease and nicotine from the inside of the car mixing with memories that feel too close to the surface, the numbers are useless.

The warmth of his eyes. The care. The way you want to nudge your face into his palm. Trust it not to grip hard. Trust yourself not to bite back.

You can’t. It’s not safe. You aren’t safe. You can’t be, you can’t-

Boom.

White clouds your vision as Bucky’s hand gets ripped away from you. Heat crawls over every inch of your skin as the ripple of the shockwave tears from you like horses out of a starting gate. Metal tears and screeches against concrete. Things shatter and crack, filling up your nose with the fume of smoke and oil. And the memories. Oh, the nightmares come crashing through. Thick, heavy sobs hit your chest as you’re back in that little room again, chained to the ground in an effort to keep you still amidst yet another chaotically forced explosion. Left to lay there as the data points come rolling in that damned computer, waiting another round. Here, now, you can feel the cuffs on your wrists, weighing you down as your lungs struggle to breathe. Somewhere far away, there’s a thud and a groan, snapping you back to reality. The heat around you diminishes, the wind from your shockwave dying down to nothing, letting the buzz of the cicadas in the summer air come back to the forefront.

Worst of all, Bucky is getting up at the other end of the garage, looking directly at you with a look you can’t decipher. The concrete wall behind him is cracked from his body being thrown against it but he still stands easily. He steps towards you but you back away and he does too, staying near the wall. His jaw clenches as his brow knits together, looking you over.

It almost looks like worry, but that’s not possible. That would be hope. You already know what hope is, the words branded on your heart.

Hope is the worst hurt of all.

He’s holding his hands out towards you, palms out again, and your nails dig into your hair. You both stay in that moment, examining each other.

He blinks slowly, opening his mouth to say something but closing it again. The possibilities rush through your head at once. Too many of them hurt your heart before you hear them.

You both stare at each other wordlessly, neither of you moving a muscle.

Before he can break the silence, you turn on your heels and run back up the road into the house, throwing the door open and running upstairs to the small bathroom. You slam and lock the door, shutting off the light and getting into the tub, bringing your knees to your chest.

1231923124.

1326183.

172631.

The air tingles as you dig your nails into your skin, trying to tamp down the residual energy building up again through useless counting. A sharp knock on the door makes you jump.

“Hey, please tell me you’re alright. Don’t worry about the garage, it’s barely messier than it was before.” Bucky’s words come out rushed, like he can’t say them fast enough. You don’t reply, and he talks again. “If you’re hurt, I can help you.”

You almost laugh, a bitter taste on the back of your throat. You wish he could help you. But you’ve proven you’re not trustworthy. He touches your cheeks once and you lose control? What happens the next time he’s close to you? A blast in this old house would cause it all to come crashing down around him.

“Go away, Bucky. Please.” You choke out, but the shadow in front of the door doesn’t move an inch.

“Do you need help calming down?” He says. Still painfully gentle. You can almost imagine him on the other side of the door, running a hand through his hair like he did the other night, when your nightmare shook him awake.

You pause. A voice in your head continues to spout off numbers, a never-ending river of confusion. Another one lectures you, shows a slideshow of him in the garage, standing away from you like you’re an animal waiting to attack him. A third one screams at you, kicking you into a corner even in your own psyche. The shockwaves always seem to make your brain explode too, splintering it into a chaotic mess.

In that chaos, your racing thoughts throw out a question that comes from the one voice you don’t let speak.

Why is he here, if he’s scared of you?

“Just...just follow my voice, alright?” He murmurs through the door. In spite of yourself, you find yourself yearning for his voice above the others. You take a shaky breath.

“Say five things you hear. Out loud, please. So I know you’re alive in there.”

You take a moment.

“The faucet dripping, the wind against the house, the creak of the foundation settling, a hawk outside, and y-you.” All of them come out in a rush of words, and you add a sixth to the list; him letting out a deep breath.

“Alright. Good, you’re doing good. Name three things you can touch.”

“The tub, the shower curtain, the soap.” Your fingers trace each item as you say them. They’re all cold to the touch, and you dig your nails into the curtain, making it crinkle in your hands.

“And one thing you can see.”

Some half-formed instinct pushes you forward to the door, numbly unlocking it. Pulling it open slightly, you’re met with Bucky’s gaze towering above you as he leans against the door frame. You flinch away but he doesn’t meet you with anger, or pain. Only a quiet, pensive look that you haven’t seen before on a person you’ve hurt.

“You. I see you.” You breathe out. His jaw clenches and relaxes and he runs his metal hand through his hair again. He’s jittery but won’t look away. You can’t either.

“Are you alright?” He whispers. You nod. “Are you sure?”

You nod as you wipe a tear off the same cheek he held before. Will never hold again, if he knows what’s good for him.

“I’ll clean up the garage.” You say.

“Don’t worry about the garage.”

“It’s all fucked up. I think the car-”

“Don’t worry about the garage or the car. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does, that’s the only car we have, and if I broke it then we can’t go into town, or get out of town, or-”

“What happened?” He interrupts.

Any explanation you can think of turns to a stone in your throat.

“What did I do? Did I hurt you?” He whispers and look up at him. His eyes are frenzied, almost panicked as he looks over you, but he keeps himself on his side of the doorway. His metal hand is clenched into a fist at his side, but at your glance he relaxes it, rubbing his thigh with his palm.

“No Bucky, you didn’t hurt me.” You murmur. You almost reach for him before remembering you’re the one who threw him into the wall at the first sign of a kind touch.

He studies you as you study him. Your defences are back up but the familiar adrenaline rush dies down quickly.

“Bucky, I’m...sorry. I can’t...” You trail off, closing your eyes and rubbing a temple. The storm of your thoughts has died down but the rain lingers, drowning out everything you try to say.

“It’s alright.” He says softly.

“I-”

“I’ll be downstairs.” He turns quickly, footsteps thudding quickly down. You stare at the empty doorway. The faucet drips beside you, beating out the seconds in the silent hallway.

When you finally rip yourself away from listening to the subtle sounds of him below, you go to your bed and fall on it.

When sleep comes, it’s not a comfort. Just an escape from yourself.

----------

A/N: This was a cathartic chapter for me to write, but I'm thinking that'll be a trend for the rest of the fic, lol. But it took me a while to get it out, so I apologize. When I started writing this, I didn't realize how hard-hitting it would be for me get everything out. Next chapter is already outlined, so will be quicker updates from now on :)

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[heartsforseo]

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[traumadumpwriter]

Loving you hurts

Sirius Black x Reader, slight Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: Your lover had been gone for years now, locked away and hardly spoken of. It had broken your heart and would've driven you completely crazy - if not for the support of his best friend, who would temporarily replace him in the years after his arrest.

Trigger warning for abandonment issues, anxiety, alcoholism, severe depression, mentions of suicide, controlling behaviour.

Written in a style with quite a few flashbacks so if you find that jarring this one is prob not for u! Lots of angst that leads into a lot of fluff. Reminder that I take requests <3

Word Count: 9.4k

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1993:

It had been 12 years since the love of your life had died.

Not truly died, but he might as well have.

Maybe it would've been better that way.

Maybe you would've gotten over him by now. Or maybe you would've been able to see him again.

You thought that he'd done something so evil. Everyone did.

Your friends had actually died.

Because of him.

And so as you grieved the man that you thought you knew like the back of your hand, you also grieved the loss of three of your closest friends; Peter Pettigrew and James and Lily Potter.

Many nights for years after that one, you had horrible nightmares. Sometimes ones of Sirius being tormented in Azkaban, sometimes ones of him doing horrible, evil things to people; sometimes even to you. Either way, they were so vivid that you would scream and cry in your sleep, having to be shook awake and comforted by one of the few remaining friends you had - Remus Lupin.

That was where things had gotten even more complicated.

Where the guilt had really started to fester and take hold.

Sirius had undeniably been the love of your life for years - even if he had betrayed you - falling for his best friend felt like a rotten move. But it happened anyway.

You could remember how Remus cared for you in the early days, after everything was still fresh - despite the fact that he too was grieving. He could see just how vulnerable the whole situation had made you and he was terrified to lose anyone else; finding himself particularly worried by the idea of you doing something to yourself.

There had been countless time spent curled up in your bed, Remus holding you as you cried. He made sure you ate and showered, distracted you with stories pulled from his head or from the pages of a book, and wiped away your tears when you lacked the energy to do so. He even saved you from a drunken suicide attempt on one occasion when your emotions had completely overwhelmed you. You remembered how hard you both cried when that happened - and how much you instantly regretted it. How the hurt on his face made you feel sick with guilt, your mind raced with one question; how could you leave him too after he's already lost so much?

So after that, no matter how bad it got, you knew you could never try to do that again - it would be unforgivably cruel to such a kind man, one you owed a lot to.

It took about two years for your relationship to progress past good friends. The feelings started gradually; he would sleep in your bed some nights after a particularly bad nightmare, holding your shaking body until you calmed down - and much to his own self disgust he started to enjoy the feel of your skin. The way he felt like a strong protector and you his damsel. He'd always had feelings for you but never allowed them to blossom past being a small crush, things were different now though, he could touch you and not be worried that his best friend would kill him for it. After all, could he even call him his best friend anymore?

You also began to secretly enjoy his touch and although your heart still felt locked to Sirius; the craving for a man's love was returning to you one day at a time.

1983:

You hadn't had a nightmare in a few days and so you and Remus were hopeful that tonight would also go undisturbed. Ever since everything had happened, you'd both rarely had a good nights sleep - something you felt immensely guilty about despite his insistence that he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. This meant that you were both elated when you actually managed to sleep entirely through the night. However, this was not one of those nights and the twilight unfortunately started to go like how many others had.

The horrible visions plaguing you; you start to scream and cry out for Sirius "No! Stop it! Don't hurt them! Don't leave me!" Your screaming is shrill and full of fear that never gets any less real. There had been times when you screamed so hard, and for so many nights in a row, that you damaged your vocal chords.

Almost immediately, as always (except during the full moon, which had become an even more stressful time for you both) Remus rushed into your room and sat down beside you. The procedure had become like second nature to him but he still never got used to your screams, hurting him immensely every time to know you were suffering like that.

Gently, he shook you awake and cooed as you suddenly shot up and looked at him with wide eyes, desperately trying to kick him off the bed and more screams leaving your mouth. Whenever you first woke up, you would sometimes continue to see the monster from the nightmare until you snapped out of your panic - something Remus had called dream residue.

"Ssh, sssh darling. My little mouse. It's just me, you're safe." He whispered, holding you close against his chest and stroking your hair as he had learned to do. His touch helped to ground you. Soon, you stopped shrieking and hyperventilating and returned to reality, looking around the room before turning to the scarred man with a quivering bottom lip and teary eyes.

"I'm s-sorry, I'm so sorry. He w-was there and I- I don't know how to m-make it stop." You whimpered, beginning a fearful, apologetic ramble that he had heard many times already. And just as he also had many times, he cut you off with a soft shush and whispered. "It's all alright (Y/N). Do you want to talk about it?" He knew you probably wouldn't; you rarely ever did, but he still asked anyway.

You shook your head no and then sleepily flung one arm around his torso, burying your face in his side as you did. "I just want your warmth." You mumbled and despite the fact that you were still shaking, the lycanthrope could tell you were calming down and smiled contently to himself, sliding down so that he would be more comfortable in the bed.

"Thank you, Moony." Your sleepy grumble into his side was nearly unintelligible and he looked down at you to respond but saw your closed eyes and decided against keeping you awake any longer. Another content smile crept onto his face when he also saw a small silver chain around your neck and realised you'd fallen asleep with your jewellery on again. The necklace wasn't just any jewellery though - it was the one he'd gotten you a few years prior as a gift and still made his heart swell in pride whenever he saw you wear it.

Slowly, he sat up again and unclasped the chain, placing it on the bedside table so that you wouldn't accidentally snap it with your nightly thrashing.

But then, without thinking, like it was something he'd do all the time, he placed a kiss on your head before settling into his pillow again. It was only a second, which was a second longer than his lips had ever spent against you before, but it was enough for him to know that he really liked how it felt. And so in the midst of so much already, began his next mental war; coming to terms with being in love with his ex best friend's ex girlfriend.

In your sleepy state, you had felt the kiss but pretended not to, although perhaps your body gave it away as you stopped shaking almost immediately after. You were too tired to even properly think about what it meant, but in that moment you did know that you liked it and maybe even wished that his lips had stayed there longer.

After that night, you were both considerably more touchy with each other - something that eventually ended in a tension slicing kiss after a few too many drinks at a Weasley party. You both kept it completely secret. Even if Sirius had betrayed everyone, you both still felt strangely guilty about the newfound feelings.

Soon, you were both spending every free day attached to each other at the hip. Long, passionate sex sessions seemed to be therapeutic for the two of you; a good way to release some emotion. And you even started to take each other out on real dates, Remus treating you like a princess in a way that you'd missed so much.

Things seemed like they were getting better; both of you now felt recovered enough to move from your dingy apartment into your own separate homes and were making huge steps to get your lives back on track. Your nightmares had even stopped.

So for a while, you both operated as a very loving, but secret couple. You tried to make up for the countless nights he spent comforting you by being his therapist and looking after him around the full moon. However, the guilt of feeling like a burden never left you and neither did the guilt about Sirius.

In fact, the guilt got so bad that your nightmares returned and you decided that you couldn't do it anymore. You still loved Sirius and so did Remus, you were both just there for each other at the right time and now that time had passed and it was no longer helpful.

Your breakup after a year of being together was calm and mutual, both of you still having a lot of love and understanding for each other.

Throughout the years, you still saw each other occasionally but never got romantic again, deciding you were better as friends. Sometimes you did secretly miss his touch though despite also being friends with his new beau Nymphadora Tonks, but you would never betray her like that and besides, you were glad to see Remus happy... even if you weren't very happy yourself.

1993:

Now it had been 12 years since Sirius had been sent away, and he'd escaped Azkaban?

As soon as you received the message, you apparated to the Weasley's in a frantic mess; feeling more anxiety than you had in a very long time but also a strange glimmer of hope.

You'd never admit it out loud, but there had always been a small part of you that desperately clung on to the idea that it was all a mistake; that the deatheaters somehow framed him, it would be discovered and he would be freed. In this fantasy he would also come out unchanged and just as lovely as before, making up for all the time you'd spent apart.

You knew that it was impossible though and so that glimmer of hope quickly died as you approached the front door.

Molly and Arthur Weasley along with Remus and Tonks were already sat around the dining table, clearly having a very heated discussion as you could hear it from the moment you stepped into the house. When you walked into the room, the talking stopped and Molly immediately rushed to you, holding you in a tight hug which you returned happily.

"Oh (Y/N) I've missed you so much. Although it's a shame that we're seeing each other under these circumstances." She smiled and stepped away. "But you're here just on time, tea will be ready in a minute."

You noted her strangely upbeat attitude as something that she did when she was nervous; perhaps trying to pretend things were okay when they weren't as a coping technique. It clearly annoyed Arthur though as he tutted and shook his head. Your eyes had barely even scanned over to Tonks and Lupin before Mr Weasley let out an annoyed groan.

"Why do you do this Molly? Stop acting like things are normal!"

"Well what do you expect me to do? Im not a whiny blabbermouth like you!"

They began to bicker and so you took this as your chance to greet the other two people in the room. With a smile, you hugged both of them before sitting down opposite to Remus. Being seated in the uncomfortable wooden chairs at the same table as the considerably taller man gave you a flashback to your school years together that made you feel good for a second before tea was being handed out and everyone returned to their serious faces.

"So what are we going to do about Harry? Surely he'll come for the boy!" Arthur began. "And I know you'll all say not to tell him anything, but I say why not? It is his life most at risk after all!"

"He is a child, Arthur! We can't be scaring him with all this when he's already got enough going on as it is!" Molly quickly returned, her voice getting higher as she got more annoyed.

"How is he meant to protect himself if he doesn't have any clue what he's fighting?" He shouted back but Remus suddenly spoke.

"He will learn exactly how to protect himself as I will be taking the position of his defence against the dark arts teacher at Hogwarts this year, and perhaps more years to come.. But I still personally think he should be told the truth. If he's anything like James, he'll take it on the chin and deal with it."

Molly gasped and shook her head while Arthur nodded in agreement. You were surprised by how harsh his last statement was, but you knew it was true. And from what you'd heard about that boy, he was a lot like his father. However, before you could delve into that thought too deeply, Remus spoke again.

"And now that she's here, I think we need to talk about keeping (Y/N) safe!"

You looked at him with a shocked expression as you really weren't expecting that, but as you looked around and saw everyone nodding, the idea that maybe you weren't safe suddenly sunk in. After all, he had proven himself not to be the man you thought you knew - it was possible that he'd wanted everyone dead.

That thought still made you feel as sick as it always had - the idea that he had been on Voldemort's team the whole time was not an easy one to swallow. And now with the years spent locked away, perhaps he was madder and even more dangerous.

"I've got plenty of cloaking spells. And he wouldn't even know where I live now, how could he? I'm sure if he's after anyone, it would be Harry." You faked confidence. "And besides, do you really think he could beat me in a duel? He's been locked up for years without magic, he's got nothing on me."

Those words hurt coming out. Acting so brazen about him being locked away. But it was a part of your defence mechanism, something you'd had to become used to. You'd been questioned by too many people after everything happened - being the closest person to him for years - but you still never felt good about lying.

"It's not that we think you couldn't beat him but I mean, from what I've heard.. he was a bit.. obsessive with you at times." Tonks said in her standard awkward manner. "It just seems like that could be something to maybe be a bit concerned about."

Back when you were younger, he had been quite obsessive. Once he finally had you, he was determined to keep you and so while he treated you like a precious gemstone; he also was known to be slightly overly jealous. God, he would kill Remus on the spot if he knew about the way he'd touched you in those years spent apart.

1977:

It was in your second to last year at Hogwarts that you and Sirius had finally confessed your feelings to each other after years of both secretly being obsessed. You'd only been together now for five months, but you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him as did he with you. 

But despite the undeniable love you had for each other, there were still things you both found slightly irritating. For him, it was your naivety, your trust in others despite all you'd been through. For you, it was his rage, which often manifested into jealousy towards any male he felt had "disrespected" you or him. He'd already played a horrible prank involving fire on one boy simply because he asked to be your partner on a project - you were top of that class after all. Now, you were laying in the Marauders shared bedroom, that had practically become your own, as you anxiously waited for Sirius' arrival.

A few hours prior, you had been helping your classroom friend Samuel Frogmore with perfecting a spell - standing in the courtyard and talking him through it for over an hour. It was a Sunday so most other students were in bed or relaxing in Hogsmead, meaning it was perfect time to find a quiet space to practice in. Sirius had never liked Samuel, stating that the fellow Gryffindor was "obsessed with getting into your knickers" and "had it out for him from the start" - two statements that you rolled your eyes at and ignored.

But maybe he had been right, as out of nowhere just as you were leant into him to help guide his wrist movement, Samuel grabbed your face and kissed you - with quite a lot of passion. You jumped back and pushed him off, extremely shocked and annoyed.

"What the fuck Sam? You know I'm with Sirius! Why would you even do that?" You barked with a scowl, picking your bag up off the ground and starting to pace away. A part of you wanted to cry and another part wanted to punch him - either way you just wanted to get away.

"Wait! I'm sorry (Y/N)! I guess I read the room wrong!" He stammered, almost making you feel bad until he added "Why are you even with that dick? You know I'd treat you better!"

You scoffed "Fuck off" and quickly resumed your walk away, hoping no one had seen what just happened. Luck wasn't on your side though. Your eyes quickly caught onto a group of lads that had apparently been watching and someone hiding behind a pillar overlooking the courtyard. You groaned as soon as you saw the silver streaks of hair blowing behind that someone in the wind. Fucking Priscilla Merwell. She had always been a huge gossip and never a huge fan of you and so you knew this most certainly be twisted in some way and get back to Sirius. Almost as soon as she spotted your eye, she rushed away to begin the Chinese whispers.

A part of you thought about going down to Hogsmeade and telling him before anyone else could - although his reaction probably wouldn't be much better. But a bigger part of you was annoyed by how he acted like this, knowing he would surely act up even more than usual because he had been right. You were upset that you'd lost a friend - someone who wasn't even ever your friend in the first place if all they wanted was to make a move on you - but you knew that Sirius wouldn't empathise with that and that annoyed you even more. Despite this, you were still excited at the thought of seeing him tonight. Although you saw him every night, every moment spent apart felt like forever.

By midday, your friends had already come to you saying they'd heard about something to do with you and Samuel Frogmore, each spouting more warped versions of the truth than the last. Part of the Chinese whispers element that was in the gossiping made you laugh due to how ridiculous it was, but knowing that Sirius would probably believe whatever the first one he was told said, the anxiety in your stomach began to play up again.

By the time evening came, you were laying in Sirius' bed and Lily in James', both of you chatting as you usually did about all sorts - usually your boyfriends. You were both excited and nervous to see him now and he was taking his damn time.

Suddenly, Remus, Peter and James burst through the door, instantly turning to you and warning "He's pissed off."

Your stomach dropped. Only seconds later the man himself arrived, stomping into the room and immediately shouting "You fucking kissed Froggy? Are you serious? What the fuck is wrong with you (Y/N)?"

"I didn't kiss him! He kissed me!" You shouted back, extremely offended that he'd believe such a thing. "Why would you even believe that?"

Your friends quietly shifted out of the room but waited listening by the door incase things got too heated.

"Great! So he kissed you! And what did you do back? Did you tell him you have a fucking boyfriend?" He scoffed to which you quickly replied "Merlin, Sirius! I shoved him off me, reminded him of your stupid existence and then told him to fuck off! Is that good enough for you?"

Visibly, he started to calm down slightly at that but still stepped towards you and put his finger under your chin so that you were looking him in the eyes. "Tell me you're mine." He growled. The dark look on his face was a strange mix of certainty and insecurity; dominant certainty that you would do as he asked, secret insecurity that you wouldn't mean it. "Tell me you're my girl."

Despite admittedly turning you on slightly, you were more upset than anything scoffed and hung onto his look for a second before irritably muttering back "I'm your girl."

From an outside perspective, he certainly could seem possessive to the point of it being dangerous to you, but you knew he'd never hurt you and a part of you loved being called his.

A moment passed, and almost like he was awakening from a trance, his body unclenched and his voice went soft."I love you (Y/N)." It was too late though, you were tired and sad; tears brimming at your eyes and you started to sniffle. This caused him to immediately frown as he realised how harsh he'd been, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry darling. I shouldn't believe those ridiculous rumours or get so wound up. Please forgive me." He whispered, placing kisses on the top of your head. But you were still upset, refusing to look up at him and keeping your head buried in his chest as you lightly cried "You're such an asshole! Why don't you trust me? How could you believe that I'd ever kiss someone else? Especially Frogmore!"

"My angel." He cooed, moving so that you were both sat down on the bed. "I'm sorry. It's not that I don't trust you. It's that... well I guess I don't think I'm good enough for you. Part of me couldn't even blame you if you did leave me for a geek like Froggy... He does have a much more promising future-" You lifted your head up and kissed him on the lips, shutting him up immediately.

“I can't bare to hear you talk down on yourself darling, you know I love you more than anything." You whispered "I belong to you and only you" knowing those words were what he needed to hear, and you did truly mean them. He grinned at you and pulled you in for another kiss, this one considerably more passionate that soon landed you both cuddling under the covers with giggles.

"I fucking love you so much, but still know that Frogmore is gonna die tomorrow." He whispered between the pecks he was placing along your neck.

"I know." You snorted, really not doubting it.

1993:

"He was a little bit possessive, but he never hurt me. I really don't think I'm the one we need to worry about." You nervously protested but Lupin's sharp eyes quickly caught you and he shook his head.

"A little bit possessive?" He scoffed and before you could tell him to shut up, he continued. "All I'm saying is that.. well before, we knew he would never physically hurt you.. or at least we thought we knew... But now with the knowledge of what he did to our dear friends, and all those years locked away.. I fear that he is not at all the man we once loved."

His words hurt to hear, but you knew they were probably true and so just nodded with a sigh. "What do you propose we do then?"

Tonks answered you this time with a sympathetic smile "Well Remus and I have spoken, and we think you should stay with us just until all of this is sorted." 

One of the last places you wanted to be was under the same roof as a loving couple you greatly envied, especially considering your past with one of them. If only Tonks knew, would she still be so kind if she did?

"I really appreciate the offer, but I don't think it's necessary." You gratefully smiled back but Molly suddenly spoke.

"I think it's a good idea for you to stay with them too. Just for a little while."

"So do I." Arthur added.

You looked between all of your friends and seeing their stern, concerned faces, decided not to argue any longer - begrudgingly giving in. This unfortunately meant that in the many weeks to come, there were witnesses to your mental decline - something that you very much resented.

All you could think about was Sirius and it became clear that all those years of therapy and recovery had been flushed down the drain, along with any coping methods you had previously learnt. Now you were just silently rotting in bed, as you had done when he first left, awakened in the night by your own screams as this time Remus wasn't around - usually being busy with  everything else on his plate. Nymphadora was kind and understanding of it though, sometimes managing to drag you out of bed although not often. Today, she had some of her own business to attend to - which meant that Remus was on house watch instead for the first time in a while.

You didn't even know the switchover had happened; asleep despite it being the afternoon. Tonks had told him all about the screaming, how you weren't eating, barely talking and smelling of booze - just how he remembered you being in those first years he spent living with you. Almost as soon as he stepped into the house, he went upstairs and knocked loudly on your door, startling you awake as he announced his arrival. "I'm going to come in in a minute (Y/N), make sure you're dressed."

You were still drunk from the drink you'd had that morning and waking up was proving to be difficult so you flopped your head back down and closed your eyes again, ignoring your friend. The door opened and he sat down on the end of the bed with a sigh, placing his hand on your lower leg.

"I know you're awake." He said in a monotone voice. "Let's talk."

You sighed in response and rolled away from him. "I don't want to talk." You mumbled "I'm fine."

He scoffed and you knew that he wasn't going to let it go as easily as you'd hoped. "You're acting like how you did all those years ago and you're not doing a good job at hiding it (Y/N). Everyone is worried about you. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

His words made you tense up and you suddenly felt all of the anger you'd been hiding start to bubble up. The truth was, seeing him and Tonks so happy together had made you even more depressed than you already were. Not only were you upset and missing Sirius, but it was making you miss Remus too - desperate to feel loved or safe in any way. Knowing that the younger woman was being cradled and cared for by a man who once did the same for you - just a couple of metres away from where you were sleeping painfully alone - was enough to incite some jealousy and amplify the loneliness you felt.

"I know that it's rough, losing Sirius the way we did.. and now what's happening at the moment, I get it. But you can't be doing this to yourself again-" He went to continue his lecture but you cut him off, suddenly sitting up and shooting him a harsh glare.

"Merlin, Remus! Would you shut the fuck up?" You hissed, throwing your hands up in annoyance. "Okay, you got me, I'm shit and I do it to myself, what a shocker! But do not say to me you get it, because you do not fucking get it! Not at all! You're not alone! You have someone who loves you, someone to give all your love to! I have no one!" Tears were springing from your eyes but you didn't care to hide them as you ranted at the visibly shocked man. Your voice was raising as you got more annoyed. "You're a fucking asshole! Why do you get to be happy with some new girl while I'm left behind?.. I am completely alone in this shitty fucking world, you were the only one I had after he left and now I don't have you!"

As you got more upset, your breathing got heavy and sobs began to fall out of your mouth. You weren't completely in your right mind, sounding more jealous and mean than you intended, but he wasn't mad, instead his heart ached for you.

"Oh (Y/N), come here." He opened his arms and tried to pull you into a hug, shooting you a sympathetic look but you pushed him away in anger. "No, fuck off, I fucking hate you." You choked in between sobs, but didn't resist when he pulled you in a second time and held you tightly into his chest. He knew you didn't mean those words and that the harshness was just your defence mechanism.

At this point though, all you could do was cry and loud sobs filled the room as he gently traced patterns into your back.

"It's okay, it's going to be okay, you are loved and you're not alone." He whispered and then placed a kiss on the top of your head. "You're still my little mouse, you always will be."

Although those words should've given you comfort, you felt even more sick and guilt ridden at the fact that you liked hearing them so much. You felt guilty to Tonks, but you felt more guilty to Remus as you realised that he had always just been a replacement for Sirius, and he could no longer fill that role. It wasn't right for you to want him again now that old feelings for Sirius were resurfaced.

"I miss him so much." You whimpered. "He was all I ever wanted... A big part of me wants him to come and kill me. It would at least put an end to the mental torture."

"Don't say that." He quickly muttered, squeezing you tighter. "Don't ever say that."

For the rest of the day and late into the night, he stayed with you; even slipping some dreamless sleep potion into the hot chocolate he made you. The reason you didn't just take the potion every night was because you'd became extremely dependent on it before, eventually to the point where it didn't work. For that night though, you had an undisturbed sleep for the first time in a while.

While holding you, Remus also felt sick with guilt. The same guilt he felt towards the man he once called his brother; if he had any idea of what had transpired between the werewolf and his ex lover, Remus would surely be first on his kill list - and he couldn't blame him. Maybe he had sacrificed his morals for you because of how angry he had been at Sirius - after all did he still really hold the title of brother? His betrayal should've felt like enough justification for it all, but it didn't - for either of you. Remus also felt guilty for you; guilty that he'd been so distant after your breakup and not bothered checking in on you, guilty that a part of him resented you for making him feel so confused, and more guilty to Tonks that he let you make him feel any of those things at all.

But now he was just your friend, so once you fell asleep he resisted the urge to place another kiss on your head, and quietly crept out of the room.

Your sleep was pleasant, and instead of nightmares you had a lovely dream strung from one of your favourite memories; your 19th birthday party - a surprise one thrown by Sirius and Lily.

1981:

You'd had an amazing birthday so far. Alice had taken you out shopping, or more you had taken her as you showed her a muggle mall - something she was enthralled by and ended up getting herself some bits too. She insisted on buying you a new party dress; your most expensive and beautiful one yet, which did make you suspicious. Then you both went to your favourite restaurant, meeting Remus, Peter, Marlene and James inside. But suspiciously - no Sirius or Lily. You knew that they wouldn't ditch on your birthday, so they were definitely up to something.

"Happy birthday (Y/N)!" They all individually greeted and handed you their gifts. Peter had gotten you a rare book on herbology, Alice an enchanted candle, Marlene a beautiful silk dress decorated with small gems, James a powerful purple crystal he knew you'd use for some slightly naughty spells and Remus a sparkling silver necklace adorned with a charm of your patronus. You were taken aback by the cost and consideration of the gifts, all of them were perfect and you felt grateful to have friends that knew you so well. The necklace was your favourite though, you put it on immediately.

Dinner was a laugh. You decided to ask them where Sirius and Lily were - despite having a pretty good idea - just to watch then awkwardly squirm as they lied. "Pads is shopping!" Peter quickly spoke but James had spoken at the same time, claiming "Still asleep." He shot the mousy boy a glare before continuing "And Lily is shopping. What he meant to say was Lily is shopping."

A few hours later, you were alone with Alice. She told you to wear the new dress and get ready to go out clubbing. At this point you weren't sure if you were actually going to a club, but either way you knew that Lily and Sirius would be there - this was the "surprise". You were very excited nonetheless, doing your hair and makeup to perfection and looking divine in the dress. Alice held your arm and said "Close your eyes" before apparating you both.

Upon landing, you kept your eyes closed for a second before you heard cheering and clapping all around you. It was a huge white tent set up covered in extravagant decorations and full of all the people you loved. Black chairs and tables were set up, along with a bar, a dance floor and a small kitchen - all adorned with flowers and glitter. There were even mini chandeliers floating above the tables and colourful butterflies fluttering around the flowers.

You stood in shock for a second, taking it all in as you looked around at the faces of the people cheering for you - at least a hundred - but a smile quickly spread across your face as Sirius came to the front of the crowd and cheered the loudest.

"Happy Birthday (Y/N)!"

He could see that you were still shocked and so turned around to everybody and shouted "Let's get this party started!" turning some of the attention away from you. As the music began to loudly play and guests headed towards the bar, he quickly wrapped one arm around your waist and placed a kiss on your head.

"Godric, Sirius! This is nuts, how did you-" you began to stammer but he cut you off by kissing your lips and whispering "I couldn't have done it without Lily" earning a smile from you. A few people had started to crowd around you now, wanting to give their presents and talk, so Sirius sent you a cheeky grin and stepped away - much to your hidden dismay. "Happy birthday (Y/N)! It's been so long!" Mary Macdonald squealed, handing you a present. And so the greeting of everyone began which, despite your immense love and appreciation, got tiring after a while as all you wanted to do was dance with your boyfriend. Luckily, Lily had stuck by your side in helping you greet and soon a huge pile of presents had built up in the corner of the room.

"Let's head to the bar." She smiled once you had a spare quiet second to yourselves. "I think we've greeted everyone now." You sent her a loving grin and nodded "Thank you so much for this, you have no idea how much this all means."

"You're welcome. It's what you deserve." She turned to you as you trailed behind her "And Sirius was adamant about throwing this, he's been talking about it for months.. Even the boys pitched in too."

You'd never felt so loved in your life and hearing those words only cemented the feeling. Everything was perfect; from the decor to the guests to the music - it felt like a dream.

"I love you so much Lils." You beamed, earning a snort from her as you reached the bar.

"I love you too, happy birthday you nutter." She chuckled before turning to the house elf behind the bar and ordering drinks - which only took a second to be made.

A few drinks later and you were on the dance floor busting out moves with all of your girl friends and whilst you looked beautiful, Lily's radiance that night was something you'd never forget. Every time you looked at your best friend you'd both erupt into drunken giggles - dancing like uncoordinated maniacs.

"Where the fuck are the boys?" You slurred to the small circle of girls you were stood with.

Lily and Alice shrugged but Marlene shouted over the music "I think they're outside smoking" and Mary nodded at that. Typical. You snorted and went to the bar for another drink before heading outside to find your boyfriend.

The smell of weed hit you as you turned a corner so you knew the boys wouldn't be far. First you saw Remus, who was stumbling back into the tent but upon seeing you, threw his arms around you in a tight hug before pulling away.

"Happy birthday, again, you amazing, amazing girl." He drunkenly stammered before noticing you wearing the necklace he got you and beaming "I'm glad you like the necklace."

"I love it, it's beautiful. Thank you." You beamed back, your face almost hurt from smiling so much.

"You're beautiful little mouse, I- I mean tonight you look amazing." He slurred before clearing his throat and straightening his back. "I'll see you back in there."

His compliment surprised you, but you took it as a drunken slip up and decided not to tell Sirius, knowing he would take it the wrong way. You saw him only a moment later, walking alongside James and some other lads. He looked so good, in a suit tailor fitted to him and his hair styled to perfection - you were practically drooling at the sight.

"Hey there birthday girl!" James said loudly in a playfully taunting manner, handing you the joint in his hand "What you up to?"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. He was clearly cross faded out of his mind, barely able to walk straight from the booze and eyes deep red from the weed.

"Looking for you guys. Now go dance with your girlfriend, she's missing you!" You chuckled before toking on the joint. He and the other boys soon headed back inside, finally leaving you and Sirius on your own.

"You look like you've been having fun." He grinned at you, snaking his arms around your waist. "And your arse looks fucking amazing in that dress. I'm assuming this is the one I had Alice get for you."

You blushed slightly but grinned back, looking up at your boyfriend and replying "It is, thank you. I like it very much... And thank you for all of this, tonight has been perfect."

He stared down at you in awe for a moment before placing a kiss on your forehead and whispering "Nothing less than perfect for my princess" which made your stomach go crazy with butterflies.

"Sh-should we go dance though? I've been waiting to see your moves all night I must admit." You stammered with a giggle. "And I could do with another drink."

Sirius snorted at that, his arm tightening around your waist. "Alright love, we'll get another drink and go dance. But first of all I want to give you something." Your eyes widened at those words as he pulled his arms away to get something out of his pocket.

"You've got me another present? I thought this party was the present. You really don't need to!" You began to protest but he ignored you, holding out a small black velvet box and gesturing for you to open it.

"Of course I got you a present, I got you a shit load more back at mine! You knew this was coming don't act coy." He teased with a grin as you took the box. A small gasp escaped your mouth when you opened it and saw the dazzling ring sat inside. What appeared to be a large pearl was encrusted into a sparkling silver band, yours and Sirius' initials engraved on the inside. When you looked closer at the pearl, it's holographic reflection showed a moving image of you two laughing together - one of your favourite moving photos that you'd acquired in your time at Hogwarts - and the letters inside the band floated into the words "yours forever".

"Sirius, I- it's perfect... Godric, it's beautiful!" You spluttered, your eyes shooting between his face and the ring. He took your hand and slid it onto your ring finger where it fit perfectly - widening his grin. It was just as perfect as he wanted it to be.

"It is, but still nowhere near as enchanting as you darling." He whispered before placing another, longer kiss on your lips. If it were up to him he'd take you back to his and make love to you right there and then - but alas, he did not spend all the time and money setting up the party for you to leave early. "Let's go dance, I want you to show that ring off to everyone - let them know you're mine." He added, earning a scoff from you though a grin remained on your face.

"You are so possessive, I don't think there's anyone here who would ever think I'm anything other than yours." You blushed, your eyes remaining on the ring. "But I will show this off to the whole world if it makes you happy."

Soon, you were both on the centre of the dance floor with your arms continuously ending back around each other's bodies right until the end of the night. His face remained lit up in laughter or awe at you - there was nothing he loved more than you and everyone knew it.

1993:

It was only a few weeks after your confrontation that Remus finally saw Sirius in the flesh again, foiling Pettigrew's plan and reuniting with his brother. He couldn't think about the guilt he held about you and him (despite it being greatly amplified by the realisation that Sirius was innocent all along), he was too overjoyed to be with his best friend  again.

He didn't know how to tell you the news, but he knew he had to do it before you heard it incorrectly from anyone else. So as soon as he could he went home and told Tonks - who squealed at the news in a mix of shock, upset and excitement.

"We have to tell her! She'll perk right up I recon! After all, isn't this really all she's ever wanted? Just to be with him again?" She started to head out the kitchen door but Remus quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

"Wait!" He said quietly, peering up the stairs through the doorway to see if there had been any movement from your room - there hadn't. "I fear that this will all be too much for her... I don't know how she'll react exactly.. but I'm sure she'll want to see him immediately and I doubt it'll be safe for him to come anywhere near here for at least another couple months."

Tonks shot him a sympathetic look, feeling dismay at the sudden reality that despite being innocent; Sirius still wasn't really free. But then an idea shot to her head.

"What if we bring her to him?" She excitedly suggested.

"I don't know where he went. We didn't have a chance to discuss anything like that."

"Well you know him! Where do you think he went?"

The tall man stood in silence for a minute, in deep thought of all the places he might be until one clear idea came to his mind.

"Grimmauld Place! That house is more protected and hidden than Hogwarts!" He concluded, prompting his girlfriend to head once again towards the door, with him trailing hot behind her.

They both gave each other an anxious look before Tonks knocked on your door.

"(Y/N) sweetie. We have something we need to tell you." She softly spoke in a kind tone that despite your drunkenness made your stomach drop.

He's dead.

Or they've caught him again.

You'd been drinking, reading and occasionally sitting in silent numbness all day - as you did most days - and so you stumbled for a moment before standing straight as you unlocked the door with your wand. You felt sick with fear, convinced that they were going to tell you the worst. But when you saw their faces, not sad - small smiles in the corners of their lips, you were confused.

"You should sit down for this." Remus said plainly and you immediately did, missing the bed and instead falling onto the floor. Tonks immediately rushed to you, worried that you'd hurt yourself, but you just scoffed slightly and pulled yourself onto the bed in the drunken stupor you were in. She shot her boyfriend a concerned look which he nodded at, silently telling her that he would deal with it.

"I'm just going to come out and say it. Sirius is innocent, all of those things we thought he did - it was Peter. I saw him last night, I saw them both-"

"What?" You gasped.

Your eyes widened and your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. Adrenaline suddenly filled you and you felt considerably more sober than you did a second before.

This couldn't be true.

"Y-You're not lying are you Moony?" You quickly stuttered to which he immediately responded "No, I'm really not."

It is true.

"Is he okay? Where is he? I need to see him now." You demanded, your voice shaking in disbelief as you stood up again. A million thoughts were firing around in your brain and your body was trembling from a sudden extreme anxiety.

Remus looked down nervously for a second. If he wasn't correct in thinking Sirius was at Grimmauld Place, he knew you'd spend forever trying to find him elsewhere - even if it meant searching the whole planet. Part of him regretted saying anything before he definitely knew, and also not waiting for you to be sober. But alas, he shrugged slightly and said "I think he's at Grimmauld Place."

Immediately, you apparated there as did the couple and stood in anxiety inducing anticipation as the house's entrance became accessible, slowly sliding out from the homes beside it. It felt like it was teasing you, taking forever.

Lupin cast the charm Sirius had taught him all those years back to unlock the door once it was finally revealed. Instantly, you shoved it open with such force that it slammed against the wall and made a loud bang echo through the hall.

"Pads!" You shouted desperately into the dark corridor before muttering 'Lumos' and illuminating the space with your wand. Cobwebs and dust filled the place and it seemed as if it hadn't been stepped inside for a long time, bringing that anxiety back to your chest.

What if he wasn't there?

Remus and Tonks also started to have the same anxiety as you all wandered further into the house. The corridor seemed never ending and all the rooms were eerily dark and empty, only making you more frantic by the second and putting them even more on edge.

They exchanged another worried look and Remus went to put his hand on your shoulder before there was a sudden noise from upstairs, causing all of your heads to shoot in the direction of the staircase.

Your eyes were wide and your breathing was heavy. The pitch black darkness at the top of the stairs revealed no clue to the noise until Remus and Tonks lit their wands too.

There was a big, black dog and you almost screamed upon seeing it.

"Sirius." You breathed in shock, your body frozen in disbelief as the animal raced down the stairs and transformed into the handsome man you'd missed so much. He was really here.

Heavy tears began to involuntarily spring from your eyes and fall down your face as you looked at him. His hair was knotted and raggedy, his clothes were tattered and ill fitting and his hands were nervously shaking; a sight that you never thought you'd see from the previously vain, well groomed man. And he looked tired; so tired. It broke your heart to see him so clearly damaged - he had always been the strong one. But despite all that, all of those years wrongfully locked away, he was still the most beautiful man you'd ever seen and your heart went crazy like it never had before.

"(Y/N)." He whispered, his eyes going straight to yours and his arms wrapping tightly around your body. You were still as perfect as he remembered - maybe even more so than his memories had allowed.

All those years he spent wishing to feel your touch just one more time; now that it was finally happening he almost couldn't believe it was real. Your hair still smelt the same and your skin still felt as soft, although he could smell booze on you and took note of how you almost tripped into his arms, it wasn't an issue worth discussing in that moment as you were both overwhelmed by pure bliss. The hug lasted a few minutes, so charged and tight it seemed that it could last forever.

"Let me look at you." His voice was hoarse and quiet. You pulled away from the hug, staring at his face to see that there were also tears silently falling from his tired eyes.

You'd never seen him cry before, nor did you ever think you would. But given how you also thought you'd never see him again; all previous expectations were out of the window.

His pupils slowly scanned you and he took in every crevice of your appearance which, despite changing over the years, still bore everything he'd ever loved about you. You were also taking in his appearance, keeping your hand in his and tightly squeezing it as you were scared to break your physical contact with him.

"You're just as beautiful as I remembered." He smiled and moved his other hand to your face, running his fingers along your cheek and jawline. "And your skin is just as soft." At his quiet tone, just how you remembered it being, a small sob escaped your mouth and you wrapped your arms tightly around him again, burying your face into his chest.

Despite the bittersweetness of it all; the great injustice that had been served, the wasted years of heartache and misery, it still felt too good to be real. This was all you'd wanted for the last twelve years; the thing that kept you up at night and fuelled your drinking in the day, and now it had come to fruition and you couldn't be happier. Sirius felt the same, once again tightly hugging you and burying his face into your hair, taking a deep inhale of your scent.

"I thought I'd lost you forever... I can't believe you're really here right now." You choked out, your fingers digging into his back as you desperately held onto him. "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm here now. It's okay." He whispered and placed a kiss on your head, trying remain calm for you despite his voice cracking and the tears falling heavier from his eyes. His arms tightly held you against his chest and he buried his face in your hair once again, continuing to whisper "It's okay, I'm here now."

Tonks had started to silently tear up as she watched, her hand in Remus' - who was also feeling the emotion and trying not to well up himself. A great injustice had been served, not just to Sirius, but to everyone who loved him - something made clear by your current reaction. It reminded the lycanthrope of how you'd cling to him after your nightmares but even more intense, even more desperate.

However, there was also an undeniable tear of joy threatening to spill out of his eye if he didn't keep blinking it back. A fire had been sparked in his belly at the sight of the reunion - a warm, happy fire; an intense feeling of relief and excitement. His two best friends had finally had their wishes come true and that meant that so had he, as all he ever wished for was their happiness.

Sirius could've stood there holding you for a lot longer, but he was still extremely tired - recovering from his escape - and he figured that you could probably do with some sleep. He lifted his head and loosened his arms slightly, which made you look up at him in worried confusion - panic setting in for a second.

"Hey hey, sssh, it's okay." He quickly whispered, sensing your worry. "Let's go to bed princess, I've been dying to fall asleep with you in my arms again. We can talk properly in the morning."

As you realised how tired you were at the word 'bed', there was nothing you wanted more. Another sniffle came from your nose and you nodded, beginning to make your way up the first stair - keeping your hand in Sirius' and completely forgetting that Remus and Tonks were even there in your drunken, emotional state. Sirius remembered though, sending his friend a grateful smile before trailing upstairs closely behind. You almost tripped as you made your way up, Sirius' free hand quickly moving to your back to catch you.

As soon as you reached the bedroom, you pulled him down onto the bed with you and laid on top of him, wrapping your arms around him again which made Sirius chuckle.

"Calm down darling. I'm not going anywhere, never again." He said quietly with a smile, gently shifting you off him and to his side. "I just wanna hold you like this."

With those words, he slid one arm under your side and the other around your waist, tightly spooning you - just like he used to. He nestled his face into your neck and placed a kiss before speaking again.

"I've been dreaming of this moment for so long. It's hard to believe that this is all real."

"I know... I'm still not quite sure if it is all real." You quietly replied, your smile audible in your voice but then dropping as you continued "I'm scared that it isn't, and if I fall asleep I'll wake up and you'll be gone."

You were overrun by your emotional exhaustion; relief, shock, joy, drunkenness, and had started to feel sleepy as soon as his arms were around you. The arm around your waist tightened and his hand squeezed yours before he placed another, longer kiss on your neck.

"I won't be, I promise. I'm never leaving you again. It can't happen again. " He whispered, half trying to convince himself too. A flash of bad thoughts - ones of losing you again - ran through his mind for a second, triggering him to grit his teeth and take a breath before quickly inhaling your scent and attempting to ground himself again. He squeezed you tightly, as tight as he could without hurting you and buried his face into your hair. "I love you so much (Y/N). I really do."

"I love you too Sirius." You replied quietly, being on the verge of sleep. "We're going to make up for all the time." You yawned "I promise."

The sound of your soft, sleepy voice - just as cute as he remembered it - he began to feel calm again and a small smile spread across his lips. He loosened his arms slightly, relaxing into you and soon you both found yourself comfortably asleep for the first time in a long time.

Hope you all enjoy this I know it’s a bit long and maybe a bit messy but I wrote it over a year ago and found it in my files. Unedited. Will maybe come back and edit it, maybe even add a part 2 if anyone asks for it. Stay safe, lots of love < 3

Reblogging is allowed! All interactions are appreciated!

(Dividers by @uzmacchiato <3)

[vellazx]

Luffy x Reader (Gender not specified) — Angst / Fluff — Can be taken as platonic or romantic. Small and optional romantic Ace x Reader if you squint.

When all of you got separated at Sabaody Archipelago, Kuma sent you to one of the many places you didn’t desire to be held in.

He asked you right before sending you away, “If you could go someplace for vacation, where would you go?”

You were hesitant to respond.

“Anywhere my friends are.”

Impel Down. He sent you to Impel Down — that wasn’t the slightest bit a vacation. It was pure torture, for all the time you were stuck in a cell.

The World Government considered you dangerous enough to holster you on level 5, considered to be the floor of Impel Down that holds the most world-threatening criminals. You heard of a possible ‘level 6’, but that wasn’t your concern.

You expected to be alone throughout your suffering in that cell.

But there was one factor making it just the slightest bit easier for you.

Luffy’s older brother; Portgas D. Ace.

He sat chained up in the cell right next to yours, alongside an infamous Fishman Warlord who somehow ended up on the Government’s bad side.

When he saw you, he recognized you almost immediately. All the way back from when he met you in Alabasta.

“It’s… you? You’re Luffy’s friend. Why are you here…?”

If only you knew the answer to that question.

Ace grew fond of you rather quickly. Despite your situation, you tried your best to remain somewhat calm and have faith that you’d escape from the hellhole that called itself ‘Impel Down’. He wouldn’t prefer anyone else be in the cell next to his own. You felt the same about him, too.

The two of you sorted your trope out as ‘comfort buddies’, if that even made sense at all. When you were upset, he would try to cheer you up from across his own cell, despite his weak and raspy voice.

You did the same. Constantly telling him that you’d find a way to get him out.

Not just for his sake — but for Luffy’s sake. You cared deeply for your captain, and you didn’t need much convincing to know that he and Ace were the closest of the closest.

Ace saw it in your eyes, whenever you talked about your life-changing (stinky) captain, the glint of adoration you held for him. Therefore he swore to find a way to get you out of Impel Down, as well.

He didn’t lie when he said those words to you.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you out, too.”

But what about what you said?

Luffy, the boy whom you would die for, held his brother’s cold body in his arms. He found a way to sneak into Marineford, vowing to help you rescue Ace.

You said you’d get him out.

Though his freedom only lasted for a moment.

Akainu prevailed, bringing about the death of a friend you had little time to spend with.

Ace was more than the brother of the one you were deeply loyal towards. He was one of your closest friends, there for you during your breakdowns in that cell — as you were for him.

You were there. You didn’t have time to react as the magma empowered Admiral punched a hole right through his ribs.

You didn’t even do so much as budge.

No lies were to be spread. You blamed yourself for allowing Ace to get killed so easily. You could’ve helped. Saved him.

You entirely believed it was your fault for not doing anything.

So why did he forgive you? No. He didn’t forgive you, because he didn’t see you as a problem to begin with. He had no need to accept your apology, because he deemed it unnecessary.

Your captain. The one who was there during Ace’s death. The one who suffered the most.

He didn’t blame you.

Rather, he showed you sympathy. He knew you had gotten close to his brother while being held hostage in the underwater prison.

As tears fell from your eyes, Luffy wrapped his arms around you, caressing the back of your head with his calloused hand, still bruised from all the fighting he indulged in.

“Stop blaming yourself. I don’t like it. And stop crying! I’d prefer not to see you cry, ‘cause I don’t like it. Not one bit!”

You thought for sure he would’ve been somewhat upset with you for not being able to prevent Ace’s death. But no. Instead, he was upset with you for blaming yourself.

“…But I thought—”

“Urgh. Then— stop thinking!”

He was never mad at you.

Your overflowing tears soaked his bandaged shoulder, damp spots littered all over it.

You weren’t exaggerating when you said you would’ve lost your sanity without him in multiple scenarios. This one easily being crowned the worst.

He held you close until he had to leave for his training.

Even after two years passed, he still didn’t blame you.

“Lu. You see those stars up there, right?”

“Shishishi! Of course I do! What about them?”

“One of them is Ace. He’s watching over us. I just know it!”

“I already knew that! Of course he’s watching us! Why would he not be? C’mon, tell me something more creative!”

“Ugh, you’re ruining the moment!”

[dreamingofmarauders]

You're the Only One for Me

Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which after overhearing a conversation in the library, you feel Sirius may leave you for someone better

Warnings: Use of Y/n, insecurity, nervousness, fluff at the end (I think that's all)

A/N: Hi there, I hope you're well! Again, this is another one of my Sirius x OC oneshots from Wattpad that I decided to switch to Sirius x Reader. I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

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Y/n was sat on the couch by the fireplace of the Gryffindor tower. The flames' light danced across her face as she stared into the fire, her mind echoing of what she had heard earlier that day.

Evelyn Sanders of Ravenclaw was sitting with her friends in the library, all huddled together as she told them something.

"In no time Black will be chasing after me, wanting me to be with him." She smugly said.

"How can you be sure about that?" One of the other girls said. "From what we've all seen, he's been with L/n for ages. What makes you think he'll dump her for you?"

Evelyn scoffed, flicking her brunette hair over her shoulders. "Please. That L/n? He can't stay with her forever, I mean look at her compared to me. I'm more prettier, more outgoing, life of the party, and I'm not book obsessed like her and always scolding people. I'm way more his type." She said, with an over amount of confidence in her voice.

"Besides," Evelyn continued, "He's going to get tired of her very soon, I can see it. It won't be long until he throws that L/n away like the others. He will want me."

"Let's say he does, " One of her friends named Lila said, "How are you so confident in saying he will come after you?"

Evelyn devilishly grinned, "He will want me, and if he doesn't, a bit of help from a love potion won't hurt." She said, winking.

Unbeknownst to them, Y/n was behind one of the shelves nearby and accidentally caught word of their conversation. When she realized it was regarding her boyfriend and her, Y/n couldn't help but listen and after hearing the words exchanged between the group, Y/n felt hollow inside.

The words had managed to play with her head. One thing that was almost an insecurity for Y/n was the thought of Sirius leaving her for someone else, for someone better than her. After all, he had been a player and although Y/n knew he had changed, sometimes the thought crossed her mind and it scared her. It made her feel insecure. Y/n didn't want to lose Sirius.

Y/n kept looking into the fire as her mind was clouded with that thought. She didn't realize when a new presence joined her, who was frowning at her behavior, already knowing something was up.

"You alright?"

Y/n jumped in her seat, as she tore her eyes from the fireplace to look beside her to find none other than the person occupying her thoughts.

Her boyfriend,

Sirius Black.

"Well I'm not alright now since you scared the living daylights out of me." Y/n replied as her hand was placed on her racing heart.

Sirius studied her, his gaze piercing into hers as if he could read what Y/n was thinking. Y/n shuddered and broke the eye contact, fidgeting with her hands before she realized Sirius knew that was a sign of her nervousness.

Sirius pulled Y/n close, bringing her into his side, placing a kiss on her head. Y/n melted into him, as some of the tension in her dissolved but she still couldn't get over what she had heard in the library.

Y/n's face was able to convey that her mind wasn't with her surroundings.

"Darling, what are you thinking about?" Sirius asked, looking down at the y/h/c haired whose eyes widened slightly for a second, before she masked her emotions.

"Nothing much, just lessons-"

"I know you, Y/n/n, so don't even try to lie to me." Sirius cut across his girlfriend who moved away from his embrace, looking at the ground instead.

"I-I just remembered, I forgot to fix a mistake on my Potions assignment. I'm just going to go do that and then head out for Prefect patrol." Y/n said before she suddenly got up, wanting to leave. Before she could take a step however, a hand latched on her wrist and pulled her back down.

"You're avoiding the question." Sirius said in a serious tone, making Y/n squeeze her eyes shut.

"I'm fine, Sirius. Now, please just let me go." Y/n pleaded.

"Do you not trust me?" He suddenly said. "I understand if you don't want to share, but it would be easier to let it out then keep it in." Sirius said, moving his grip from around Y/n's wrist to her hand, rubbing comforting circles in her palm.

Y/n released a defeated sigh and buried her face in his chest, "I'm scared."

Sirius frowned but wrapped an arm around the girl, "Of what? The war, that's a natural response-"

"No." Y/n said, making Sirius go quiet, shaking her head.

"Then what are you afraid of, Y/n/n?"

"I'm scared to," Y/n gulped, "lose you."

Sirius went silent upon this and he felt bewildered.

Why was Y/n afraid of losing him?

"I don't understand." He said, pulling the girl away to look at her but Y/n's gaze was on her fidgeting hands.

"I'm afraid that you might leave me for someone e-else, someone way better than m-me." She said, her eyes glossing over.

Sirius placed his hand under Y/n's chin, lifting her head with his finger so he could look into her eyes.

"I would never leave you. You know how much I love you. What makes you even think of that?" Sirius asked. "I know I've made some questionable choices in the past, but I'm not that person anymore. I began changing right when I fell for you." Sirius said, trying to make Y/n understand he wasn't planning on leaving her.

Y/n rubbed away a stray tear, "But I'm not anywhere near as good as other girls, why would you stay with me-"

"Because I love you, Y/n/n. You're the only one for me. I don't care about other people." Sirius replied, brushing away another tear that had escaped Y/n's eyes.

"But Evelyn said you'll be after her next, that you will get bored of me real soon. She said even if you don't leave me, she'll slip you a love potion." Y/n finished with a shaky breath.

"Sanders? Of Ravenclaw?" Sirius scoffed, "Please. She just needs a little lesson taught that's all." He said with a mischievous look before his gaze softened as he looked back at Y/n.

"I am always yours. I'm sorry that you feel insecure like this but I promise you that I am never leaving you for anyone, because you're mine." Sirius said lovingly.

"I love," He placed a peck on Y/n's lips, "you, forever."

At that, Y/n let out a relieved chuckle before wrapping her arms around Sirius' neck, "I love you too, always." With that, she placed her lips on Sirius', because they both were meant to be together, forever.

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[isabelckl]

hands in your sweater

carl grimes x enemies!daughter

you never knew that being sent to Alexandria would lead to crossing paths again with the one person you should’ve stayed away from. meeting the son of your dad’s greatest enemy drags you through love and loss all over again, making you feel things you thought you'd already buried.

"Who the fuck are you?" You demanded, your voice cold, pointing your gun directly at him.

He turned, and for a split second, the recognition hit. It was him. Your grip on the gun tightened, and you stepped closer.

"You're gonna get killed here," you warned, the words coming out sharp.

He jerked his head, meeting your gaze with the same intensity. "Not gonna happen," he said, his own gun now pointed at you, his stance steady, like this was just another day for him.

You eyed him, noting the defiance in his expression. "Bold move," you said, not backing down. "You really think you can stand up to me?"

He didn’t flinch, his eyes never leaving yours. "I’m not just anyone," he said, his voice low, but filled with an unshakable confidence. "And I sure as hell don’t plan on dying today."

You tilted your head, the corner of your mouth twitching up in amusement. "Well, lucky for you, I’m not in the mood for making people disappear today." You took another step forward, closing the distance between you two. "But don’t get comfortable. You don’t get to walk around like you own the place."

He shifted slightly, still keeping his gun aimed at you, though his expression never wavered. "Funny," he said, with a hint of sarcasm. "I thought your dad did all the owning here."

"Yeah, well, my dad’s got big plans," you shot back, keeping your gun steady. "He wants to break you people first. But I’m not sure how long he’ll be patient."

The guy's eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, closing the gap between you two. The movement was slow but deliberate, forcing you to tilt your head up to keep eye contact. "Then maybe I’ll just be the one to break him first."

You couldn’t help but let out a dark chuckle. "You think you’re the first one who’s tried?" you said, leaning in closer, your voice low and threatening. "Get in line."

For a long moment, you both just stood there, the air thick with tension, neither of you making a move. But then, to your surprise, he slowly lowered his gun, his smirk never faltering. "Don’t mistake me for someone who’s afraid to make things difficult."

"Don’t mistake me for someone who’ll let you," you replied quickly, finally lowering your own weapon, though your stance remained just as guarded. "Now get out of here before I decide I am in the mood for a little fun."

He let out a soft chuckle and stepped back, still keeping his eyes on you as if trying to read you. "I’ll be seeing you again. This isn't the end."

Without another word, he turned and walked off, disappearing into the shadows of the hallway. You stood there for a moment, still feeling the buzz of adrenaline running through you.

You barely shut the door behind you before the weight of what just happened settled on your shoulders. Your heart was still pounding, not from fear—but from him. The way he looked at you like he wasn’t afraid to die. Like he had something to prove.

Carl Grimes.

You knew the name. Everyone did. The sheriff’s kid. The one with the eye and the attitude. You hadn’t expected him to be so… steady. So sure of himself, even with a gun pointed at him.

You had no idea what he was doing that deep in Savior territory. But you didn’t ask, either. And that was bothering you.

The room still smelled like cigar smoke and liquor—Negan’s signature scent. He was lounging on the couch where you’d left him just minutes ago, laughing at something one of the lieutenants said before walking out.

“Back already?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as you walked back in.

You nodded, keeping your voice flat. “Saw someone near the south hallway. Not one of ours.”

Negan straightened slightly. “What’d they want?”

“Didn’t stick around to ask. They were alone. Probably just looking for a way in or scavenging.” You swallowed the name sitting at the edge of your tongue. “I scared 'em off.”

He stood up, Lucille slung over his shoulder like always. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. Too quickly.

He stared at you for a beat longer than you liked. “No point reporting it to the others if he’s already gone,” you added. “I’ll double-check the area later.”

Negan narrowed his eyes, but eventually gave a nod. “You get that killer instinct from me,” he said, smirking. “Keep making daddy proud.”

You forced a small grin in return, then turned away before your expression could slip.

You didn’t know why you didn’t tell him. Maybe because Carl didn’t seem like the enemy in that moment. Or maybe because something in your gut told you this wasn’t the last time you’d see him.

And for reasons you couldn’t explain, you didn’t want it to be.

“You want me to what?” you snapped, voice sharp enough to slice through the room.

Negan barely blinked, sitting at the edge of the table, Lucille resting lazily in one hand like he wasn’t asking his own daughter to walk into enemy territory. “Relax, sweetheart. It’s just a little visit. Build some trust. Show ‘em we play nice when they play nice.”

You shook your head, stepping forward. “They hate us. I point a toe into Alexandria and they’ll put a bullet through my skull before I can even smile.”

“Now, now,” he said, grinning. “That’s no way to think. You’re not just anyone. You’re my blood. Which means you’ve got leverage, charm, and the balls to handle it.”

“This is suicide,” you hissed. “You don’t send family into the lion’s den for show.”

Negan stood, voice lowering. “I send who I trust. And right now, I need someone who can smile, keep their mouth shut, and listen. Someone who won’t get emotional or stupid.” He stepped closer. “Unless you’re telling me you’re not that person.”

You clenched your fists, fury bubbling in your chest. But beneath it all, you knew there was no point in arguing further. Once Negan made up his mind, it was over.

He grinned, sensing your silence. “Atta girl. You’ll be back in a day or two. Go charm the neighbors.”

The silence inside the Alexandria was suffocating.

You could feel the weight of every glare, every muttered curse under their breath. Some of them looked afraid, others just furious. No one welcomed you. No one even bothered to hide how much they didn’t want you there.

And still—you held your head high.

You wore neutral clothes, nothing that screamed Savior. But your face… your name… that was enough. You were Negan’s daughter. That alone made you the enemy.

Rick stepped forward, tense but composed. He kept his hand close to his belt, his eyes sharp, measuring.

“You came here… why?” he asked.

You forced yourself not to flinch. “To talk,” you said, your voice steady. “Negan wants to establish some ‘trust.’ Says we don’t always have to settle things with blood.”

Rick didn’t move, didn’t blink.

“I’m not here to make trouble,” you added. “I’m just a messenger. You want to shoot the message? Go ahead.”

That was when you felt it—someone watching you harder than the rest. You turned slightly… and locked eyes with him.

Carl.

He hadn’t moved from his spot on the porch, but his expression had shifted. There was a flicker of something—shock, confusion, maybe even betrayal. Like he didn’t expect you to show up here, not after the hallway, not after the way you aimed a gun at him.

You held his gaze.

He stepped forward finally, breaking away from the porch, and the crowd seemed to part around him without realizing it. His hand rested near his holster, but he didn’t draw.

“You’re kidding,” he muttered once he was close enough. “They sent you?”

You tilted your head. “Didn’t expect a warm welcome, but damn. Not even a hello?”

Carl’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing. “You think this is a joke?”

“No,” you said quietly. “I think this is stupid. But I didn’t have a choice.”

For a moment, you both just stood there—caught in the same standoff as before, only this time there were witnesses. This time the war was thicker in the air, and neither of you knew whose side you were really on.

“You’ll be watched,” Rick said finally from behind you. “Every minute. You step out of line, you don’t get to walk away.”

You nodded without looking away from Carl. “Noted.”

And just like that, the gate closed behind you.

You were in enemy territory.

And the only person who might understand why you hesitated that day—the one who could blow your cover with a single word—was the same boy staring at you like you were already a traitor.

This was going to be hell.

The gate clanged shut behind you with a heavy finality.

You tried not to let it show, but it felt like stepping into a cage. A cage lined with hatred, suspicion, and loaded guns. Every step you took on Alexandria soil felt like it echoed louder than it should have.

Rick gave you a clipped nod and motioned toward one of the houses. “You’ll stay in there. Don’t go anywhere without permission.”

You didn’t respond. Just walked, chin up, shoulders tight, until the door closed behind you.

The room was plain. Empty, aside from a table and a chair pushed awkwardly to the side like someone had been in a hurry to make it presentable. A small bed against the wall. No windows big enough to climb out of. No weapons in sight. It was a prison with floral curtains.

You dropped your bag onto the bed and sat on the edge, rubbing your palms together, trying to ignore how shaky they’d gotten. You weren’t scared. Just... alert.

Always alert.

A knock came too soon. You looked up just as the door creaked open and Carl stepped inside without waiting for permission.

“You spying for him?” he asked bluntly.

You let out a dry laugh. “Wow. Straight to the point.”

Carl didn’t smile. He didn’t even blink.

You leaned back slightly, arms crossing over your chest. “No. I’m not spying. At least not in the way you think.”

“You showing up here a week after your dad bashed Glenn and Abraham’s skulls in? That’s not a coincidence,” he said, voice low, sharp, like he was trying to cut past whatever front you were putting up.

“I didn’t know he was going to do that,” you snapped.

“You knew what kind of person he was.”

You flinched, but you didn’t break. “Yeah. I do. But I’m not him.”

Carl’s jaw tightened. “Then why the hell are you here?”

You opened your mouth to answer—but nothing came out.

Because what could you say?

“I don’t know,” you admitted, quietly. “I argued with him. Told him I’d get killed here. Told him it was a bad idea.”

“And yet…” Carl gestured to the room around you. “Here you are.”

You looked at him, something flickering in your chest—anger, frustration, something you didn’t want to name.

“I didn’t ask to be part of this war,” you said. “But I don’t get a choice.”

For a second, Carl didn’t say anything. His expression shifted, something unreadable swimming behind his single eye. He didn’t trust you. Maybe he never would. But part of him, maybe, understood.

Still, his words were steel when he finally spoke again, “You slip up even once, and I won’t hesitate.”

You nodded slowly. “Neither will I.”

And just like that, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and stared at the wall for a long time.

This wasn’t just survival anymore.

This was personal.

You couldn't sleep that night.

Not really.

Every creak of the house, every bark of a dog in the distance, every step outside your window—it all felt like a threat. Or worse, a test. You didn’t know which.

Morning bled into the room in soft streaks of grey light. You hadn’t changed out of your clothes, too on edge to care about comfort. When a knock came again—sharper this time—you were already on your feet.

Carl stood in the doorway, backlit by the sun, a scowl carved into his face like it was permanent.

“Dad says I’m supposed to keep an eye on you today.”

You blinked. “What, like a babysitter?”

Carl shrugged with a bitter smile. “Something like that.”

You grabbed your jacket and followed him outside after getting ready and doing some of your morning routines. The air was cool, the streets mostly quiet, but you could feel eyes everywhere. Carl didn’t speak. He just walked, and you kept pace beside him.

“So this is what trust-building looks like?” you muttered.

“No,” he said. “This is what containment looks like.”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, for someone who lowers his gun and lets people live, you sure act like a dick.”

Carl stopped walking. You almost ran into him.

“Don’t mistake what happened in that hallway for trust,” he said, turning to face you. “I didn’t shoot you because something told me not to. That doesn’t mean I won’t.”

You met his gaze, unflinching. “Good. Keep it that way. Maybe we’ll survive this mess.”

The silence stretched again, thick and tense, but this time… something about it felt different. Not as cold. Not as sharp.

Carl looked away first.

“We’re going to the gardens,” he muttered, starting forward again. “Try not to get stabbed.”

You smirked slightly despite yourself. “No promises.”

You spent the next hour walking through Alexandria with Carl at your side, people either avoiding you or throwing daggers with their eyes. No one spoke to you. But you caught snippets of their whispers.

"That’s her?"

"Negan’s daughter."

"She doesn’t belong here."

You pretended it didn’t get to you. You’d grown up learning how to wear armor without metal. But still—this was different. This wasn’t war. This was survival under a microscope.

At some point, Carl handed you a basket and pointed at a row of tomatoes.

“You’re joking,” you said.

He didn’t respond. Just started picking.

You huffed but crouched beside him. “I didn’t come here to harvest your damn tomatoes.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, tossing a tomato into his basket, “you’re here now. Might as well be useful.”

You picked one, then another.

After a while, it got… quiet. Peaceful, even.

You hated that part most of all.

By the time the baskets were full, your knees ached and your patience was worn thin. The silence between you and Carl had settled into something strange—not comfortable, but not hostile either.

You stood, brushing dirt off your palms. “So this is how you people survive? Tomatoes and silent treatment?”

Carl didn’t look at you. “Better than barbed wire and baseball bats.”

You flinched. That one hit deeper than you expected. You bit the inside of your cheek, keeping your mouth shut this time.

He turned, finally meeting your eyes. “Why’d you really come here?”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the question—by the way he asked it. Not like an accusation, not like he was waiting to pounce. Just… curious. Maybe tired. Maybe trying to make sense of things the way you were.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you said honestly. “He said I’d help build trust. Said I’d be useful. But I think he just wanted me out of the way.”

Carl tilted his head, studying you.

“And you listened?”

“What, you think I could say no?” You laughed, bitter. “He’s still my dad.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be him.”

You looked away. “Tell that to everyone staring at me like I killed their friends.”

Carl didn’t say anything to that. Maybe there was nothing to say. You both stood there in that quiet space between resentment and reluctant understanding.

After a long pause, he finally spoke. “Come on. I’ll show you where you’re actually allowed to walk without getting a gun to the face.”

You raised a brow. “How generous.”

He cracked a dry smirk. “Don’t get used to it.”

You followed him through the rest of the compound—past the armory, the infirmary, the schoolhouse still scarred with broken windows. Kids were playing in the distance, laughter echoing faintly through the walls. You watched them with something close to envy.

“Ever think about what it would’ve been like if this never happened?” you asked suddenly. “No walkers. No war. Just... regular life.”

Carl’s jaw tightened. “All the time.”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Me too.”

Another beat of silence. This time, not so tense. Not so heavy.

Just… real.

And for the first time since you arrived, the weight in your chest felt just a little bit lighter.

The sun was starting to dip by the time the “tour” ended. You’d barely spoken in the last half hour, and honestly, you preferred it that way. Words were risky. Words made things real.

Carl stopped near one of the houses—his, you guessed. The porch was half-fixed, like most of Alexandria. Still trying to hold onto what it once was.

He turned to you, arms crossed loosely. “You’ll be staying in the house next to this one. It used to be Carol’s.”

You didn’t ask who that was. Just nodded. “And what, you’re my neighbor now?”

“Guess so.”

A smirk tugged at your lips. “Gonna keep watching me from the window?”

“Only if you look suspicious.”

You laughed once, dry but genuine. “You don’t trust me.”

“Certainly.”

You paused, tilting your head. “Smart.”

He held your stare for a second longer before nodding toward the door. “Go. Lock it. Don’t leave at night unless you want to get shot by a lookout.”

“Charming place.”

Carl didn’t respond. He just walked off, disappearing behind the fence toward his house, leaving you in the dimming light with a strange, restless feeling curling in your gut.

The room they gave you was clean. Bare. You dropped your jacket on the bed and sat down slowly, the mattress creaking beneath your weight.

You still weren’t sure why Negan really sent you here. And you weren’t sure what was worse—being used as bait, or being forgotten.

Your eyes drifted to the window. You could just barely see the side of Carl’s house.

He hadn’t said goodnight and you didn’t know why you noticed that.

Part 2

[bweeeb]

🎄Christmas collection

PASSING LONELINESS

THEODORE NOTT X READER

Part 2 of loneliness

Warnings: Angst, maybe too much drama, maybe bad writing ( but give me a break because English is not my first language. )

Summary: Theodore returns to the castle and finds a huge mess of tears from his girl on the freezing couch in the common room.

The castle remained quiet, something that wouldn't be the case if Theodore were there with her. Theo raced up the stairs, eager to reach the Slytherin common room as quickly as possible. He didn't want to have gone home without her, he didn't want to have left her without saying goodbye and letting her simply go home alone. Theo didn't want to have spent this Christmas Eve with his father who had finished a bottle of whiskey in less than an hour and gone to bed without even saying goodbye. He regretted how he had behaved in their relationship and kept repeating to himself that she deserved better, that he wasn't worthy of her love, and much less that she should be there for him after such a fucked up year for her.

With a cigarette between his lips, Theodore blew out the smoke and scanned the common room, checking to see if anyone would give him trouble. Another drag on his cigarette and the anxiety didn't dissipate from his chest. In the middle of the week he had sent a letter to the girl but never got a reply, he knew he should maybe go to her house but if she hadn't given him an answer it was because maybe she didn't want to see him during the most important holiday of the year for her.

Throwing himself onto a sofa at the beginning of the common room, Nott's gaze was lost in the darkness of the room and only when he noticed the dim, red embers in one of the fireplaces closest to the only windows there, did he frown and decide to get up, try to grab some of the recently extinguished heat and maybe even light the fireplace again, it was one of the coldest years in five years, it wouldn't be a bad idea to warm up a bit, he thought.

His feet took him to the sofa that was positioned in front of the fire and his eyes fell suddenly and surprisingly on the huddled body of the most important person in his life, shivering in her sleep, with fresh tears that hadn't dried on her cheeks and nose, she had a pout forming on her mouth and the way she hugged herself gave the feeling that she was trying to push something away from herself. Maybe loneliness.

Theodore didn't understand why she was there, she still had a house, a comfortable bed with all her stuffed animals that he recognized she hugged when she came home on holidays, a blanket made of so many cottons that warmed her to places where it wasn't possible to warm up even with a heater, she had soft pajamas with hoods that made her look like a hibernating polar bear, she had feather and cotton pillows and there she was, on a hard leather sofa, without any pillow on her head, hugging herself while shaking all her bones to keep warm in the Slytherin common room.

Theodore stood there for about five minutes, watching her with confusion in his eyes, she had never seemed to be in so much pain as at that moment, he didn't like it, she was supposed to be comfortable and well on her favorite night of the year. Nott walked around the sofa and crouched beside her, removing a hair that had fallen on her face and stuck to her wet tears.

His thumb gently passed over her cheek, wiping away what was wet and that made his girl open her eyes startled.

— What are you doing, Amore. Why are you here?

Theo asked in a whisper and she raised her torso from the sofa and leaned on her left arm as she looked at Theo with other tears starting to appear in her eyes.

— Where should I go?

She asked so softly, afraid that her voice would fail more than she would have liked. Theo could crumble just from the lost look she had inside her, she wasn't like that. He was, not her.

— Home, you should be home, in your bed, with your pillows and comfortable blankets.

His voice was so soft that she felt more like collapsing right there. Her eyes overflowed and a lump formed in her throat, she was on the edge of the cliff.

— But there's no one there.

She shook her head.

— My house isn't my house if there's no one I love there.

She denied, sniffing as her tears began to pour from her eyes.

Theodore hated himself, hated himself for being so stupid, for letting his pride coerce him once again.

Nott pulled her towards him and cradled her in his chest, she didn't fight his touch or try to move away like he thought she would, she wanted him there.

— I'm so sorry for not being here. I'm so sorry.

He said against her hair as she sobbed into his chest, whining that she hated it all until her head shot up quickly, eyes swollen, cheeks flushed and despair imminent in her expression.

— Theo. I swear to you, I would never trade you for anyone in this damn castle. Please believe me.

She said through tears and continued to tremble.

— I can't lose you too.

Her crying increased and Theodore pulled her closer. He wanted to warm her, he wanted to give her affection, he wanted to take that pain away from her and kill anyone who made her cry again.

— You'll never lose me Y/n Y/l/n. Do you understand me? Fuck, you're the love of my life, if I let you slip through my fingers I'll go crazy.

Theodore put both his hands on each of her cheeks and rested their foreheads together so that he allowed a tear to fall there. He felt her small thumb pass over his cheek and there she was with eyes full of tears.

— You're crying.

She sniffed smiling.

— You never cry.

— Your pains are mine too, bella. I won't leave you alone anymore. I promise you.

He said placing a kiss on her lips and hugging her as if his life depended on it. And it kind of did.

— Let's make your Christmas as good as they used to be.

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I hope you enjoyed this and I wanted to say that requests are open, talk to me!