#i wish i could have a dreamless sleep every night

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ How they dream of you at night

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia

(tw: just slightly sad)

✧ “In the hidden corners where the gods' gaze does not fall, there are those who dream of dreaming” - and one said person, Pierro, can be found within the grand Palace of Snezhnaya. He solemnly sits by the window, his icy blue eyes gazing off into the dark winter night of this snowy land.

He often does that, when the night becomes silent and the world is still. Pierro wishes he could dream, yet 500 years of cursed immortality can corrode one’s mind into feeble numbness. Thus, the Fatui Director substitutes his dreamless nights with daydreams of you. Silent fantasies of your voice, images of cupping your jawline, a tender caress to your form. The jester’s daydreams are the only thing keeping him sane, preserving the memory of your skin and love alive in his mind. 

And even if his nights are bleak and dreamless, he would rather settle for maladaptive daydreams. When the Jester gazes at the fake stars of Teyvat, hanging by the firmament as a lifeline, so does he yearn to daydream of you - living in the day just for the memory of your embrace. Alas, only the harsh nights of Snezhnaya are witness to his wistful gazes. 

✧ For Il Capitano, the world is full of battles and wars; conflicts initiated by the ignorant ones, those who care naught for the innocent. Therefore, the only moment of solace that the Captain can afford is in his dreams. Dreams in which his vision is not haunted by the bloodshed of battlefields, but instead by simple dreams of you. 

In those dreams, the world is plain and quiet. He often sees you in it, occupying his thoughts. Sometimes you’d talk and ramble nonchalantly, occasionally he’d see you collecting small chamomile flowers by the grass. Those dreams are uneventful, yet for the Captain, such peacefulness is a luxury he cannot afford. An image of you and him by a quiet valley, a gentle breeze idling by, and having all the time to relish each other’s endless conversations. No thoughts of warfare, only the unwinding sound of your voice.

The Captain is not ashamed to admit he dreamt of you. In fact, he’d candidly say it during the most random of times - “I saw you in my dreams again.”

You’d glance at him and muse - “Oooh, really? Maybe you just miss my company!”

The Harbinger's mask remains pitch black, devout of any expression that might tell whether he reciprocates your little teasing. But besides the occasional clank of chains from his helmet, a low chuckle will escape him. Therefore, The Captain would lean to sit closer to you, his body less tense whenever he is in your presence. Even your silence is a remedy to his soul.

“Perhaps I do. Perhaps I really do.” 

✧ Il Dottore hates dreaming. Sleep, in its entirety, is a redundant form of rest that the human body requires. An utter waste of time. Thus, as a scientist who modified his own body to perfection, it’s unsurprising that he can go on for days without sleep. The Doctor can be efficient with his time, although that’s not why he semi-biologically modified his body. It’s because he hates dreaming of you. 

You are always there in his dreams, along with his younger self. The nostalgic warm sunlight of Sumeru basks onto you, and in those dreams, he sees you in the familiar hallways of the Akademiya. Dottore does not consider those dreams pleasant, since they make him uneasy of the grave past. He doesn’t like seeing himself so simple and young, in his Akademiya uniform. He doesn’t enjoy seeing your tender smile as you clutch your books closer to your chest and lock your gaze with him. He doesn’t like how his dream self always yearns to come closer and embrace you tight. As if young Zandik could’ve held you one more time, and all his troubles would dissipate by the warm sun.

Yet no matter the place or outcome of the peaceful dream, every time that young Zandik tries to reach for your face or seek your lips, you’re always an arm-length away. The hallways of the Akademiya loom threateningly, pulling you further away from him, your warmth becoming unreachable. How naive. He should be better than this. Now he sits up in bed, awake and hands clenched around his hair with trepidation. He hates how his body wants to cry for the memory of you in his dreams. He really hates dreaming.

✧ The fact that Scaramouche even possesses the faculties to dream is what made him the individual he is today. Whether he curses his ability to do so or not, it doesn’t matter. He is no longer the naive Kabukimono he once was, in fact, he doesn’t even require to mimic sleep as humans do. But only you know the truth. During still nights, when the two of you doze off under the warm futons, the Balladeer’s hand would unconsciously grip yours, then followed by silent sobs.   

In his dreams, he sees many events unfold. Sometimes, he sees himself left to live in the squalor like a common critter, discarded and abandoned. Sometimes, he sees the familiar Tataratsuna huts. But more often, he sees you there in his dreams. Back in the warm plains of Yashiori Island, you let him rest his head on your lap. You are dressed in a snug kimono that the fabric's comfort etches onto Scaramouche’s memories eternally. In his dreams, he rests idly in your embrace, by your lap, while you caress his hair. 

Those dreams are delightful at first as if his memories as Kabukimono reinvoke themselves and immortalize the softness of your body and the soothing motion of your hands in his subconscious. But quickly, those dreams shift into agonies. Sometimes, in those dreams, you turn and desert him, while he is left on his dirtied knees to plead for your return. Sometimes, those nightmares show him that it is your heart that can ebb the Tatarigami within Mikage Furnace. And just before he's forced to rip your beating core and relive another memory, he awakes.

“Scara?! Scara…?” - you whispered in the dimness of the night, shaking him awake. “You were crying in your sleep. Another nightmare?”

The Puppeteer said nothing. He lay awake, startled as tears involuntarily streamed down his cheeks. With twitching eyes, he quickly clings around your waist, burying his face against you to conceal his tears. No words needed to be exchanged as his body shook, while you hushed and hugged him. This was the reason why Scaramouche avoided dozing off into sleep ever again.

Regardless of the content of his nightmares, he’d never admit you caressed his hair and soothed him the same way you did in his dreams. 

✧ Pantalone is in bed, restless. Turning from side to side, or readjusting his pillows becomes a futile endeavor to find solace when his bed is lacking you. You are out there, on an expedition, busy exploring Teyvat. Your trip might take another few days, yet Pantalone is alone in a bed that often nestled you close together. Where do your feet take you, the Harbinger ponders to himself. Hence, while you are away, the Regrator is forced to make amends with the bedroom that feels considerably empty, considerably cold, considerably foreign - all because it's missing you. 

In the late, voiceless hours of the night, his dreams blend with his yearning for you. He misses pressing your entire form against his lean body, as it often allows him to fall asleep easily. With you in his arms, chest pressed to another, he knows - you are safe. You are with him. Unfortunately, you are away, and the night feels unwelcoming. For now, Pantalone has to clutch a pillow in his sleep to substitute his feeling of holding you. Even as he sleeps with worry, he hopes somewhere out there, in a foreign land, you are dreaming of him the same way he’s dreaming of you. 

✧ When Tartaglia drifts off into dreamland, his mind is still half-busy with thoughts of you. So much so that his plans blend into his dreams. Thoughts about what he should buy you while he’s away on a mission. Ideas on where to purchase your favorite local specialties. Or perhaps how he should surprise you when he comes back home.

His brain is so enthusiastically occupied with plans to bring you souvenirs, that his dreams come up with countless scenarios of how you’d greet him upon arrival. He’d envision your joyous surprise, endearing pouts, or teasing smiles. And sometimes, if his dreams are more daring, Childe might accidentally dream of some sweet rewards that will leave him waking up in a cold sweat, panting, and body craving. 

Either way, he is rushing back to you the moment his mission is over. His dreams of you might leave him hot and bothered, but your love in real life is much more tantalizing than anything his desperate dreams could conjure up. 

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. IX

tags- @beebeechaos @r-3dlips @emery-aka-emmy @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @purple-1995 @pedro-pascal-love @fall-winter-heart97 @thelastemzy @reyndaisy @littleblackcatinwonderland @hueanhdang

cw- mention of death

finally a longer one!

Eight full days passed without trouble. Daenys and Cregan slept close together each night, pointedly avoiding talking about it each morning. Though, it was clear to be a great comfort for both of them. Daenys found herself having seven more dreamless nights, grateful for each one, though slightly wishing she could be blessed with the type of dreams that others had every night. Even Cregan, who smiled sometimes in his sleep, seemed to have pleasant dreams.

They were only one more night away from The Wall. Then, they would reach it by the morrow's noon.

Daenys had taken well to hunting, setting near-expert traps and even making it something of a competition. Without needing words, they would both hold up their catches of the day, either laughing gleefully or scowling when they won or lost. All in good fun, they agreed.

Dusk had even taken to sleeping with Morningstar each night, instead of at the human's feet. The dragon had not made her displeasure known, so her tolerance said everything for her. The wolf was comically tiny against the massive wing, quite like a mother and her pup. Though, perhaps Dusk didn't get that idea. His infatuation with the dragon appeared to be some sort of puppy love.

Cregan had pointed that out days prior, snorting at his companion's simpering behavior. "He follows that dragon like a green boy follows a pretty whor-" He paused, stopping himself. "follows a courtesan." He coughed into his hand, cheeks pink at his own borish vocabulary.

Daenys rolled her eyes, snickering at his expression. "I am not so green myself, my Lord. I can handle a few less-than-kind words."

His eyes widened, turning to her on Red. "Do you mean...?"

She understood immediately, flushing pink herself now. "Heavens, no! I only mean I grew up with my vulgar uncles. They have never bothered to filter their words or bring their 'lady-friends' into the Red Keep. I can not do such things until I am wed, I understand by duties." Daenys informed him, slightly embarrassed that she called herself experienced when she was not.

"I would not fault you if you did. After all, a lord could sire a thousand bastard babes, before or after marriage, and not be reprimanded." He said.

That was true. Rhaenyra was forced into marriage immediately after her 'nightly activities' with Daemon were discovered. Aegon was actively still participating in such activities after his marriage but received turned heads and blind eyes.

"That is a truth I have come to resent." She huffed. "There are many of us—silver-haired—out on the streets of King's Landing. It is a great shame that mine own kin is suffering on the streets instead of in the Keep where they belong."

Many times, she thought of how unfair their circumstances were compared to hers. They shared their bastard blood, but only she and her brothers got the privilege of being legitimized and defended whilst the others starved and suffered.

He smiled sweetly at her, perhaps in understanding of her underlying words. "I can sympathize with that sentiment. My father was an honorable man until his death. His one sin was fathering my half-sister, though I do not resent Sara for it. It is a shame how only the children suffer for the parents' actions. I watched how she was treated her whole life compared to me, simply for having a different mother."

She hummed her agreement. For a moment, she slightly wished that her mother shared his opinion.

"I loved my father dearly. But, I would never repeat his actions. My wife's honor is as sacred as mine, to father a child that was not hers would be unforgivable."

"Your wife will be a lucky woman."

He eyed her, amused. "If you call that lucky, then I suppose so. I would call it being a husband."

"Most men do not take that so seriously. A wife is seen as the one who simply provides heirs and a dowry, and whores and paramours are the true lovers." She shrugged.

"Is that how Prince Daemon sees Queen Rhaenyra?" He asked, catching her off guard.

"No...he is perhaps the only one of her husbands to have no lover after they married. Their marriage is a special case, I believe. He has only wanted her for many years, even through his previous two marriages. Loyal, yes, but no less a greedy man."

Daenys didn't care for her mother's and Daemon's strange history. She would not personally wish to marry a man twice her age, but her mother loved him, so she tolerated it. She did grow to like Daemon, too, after a few years of living with him.

Cregan nodded beside her, taking in her words. "Ser Laenor was different?"

"I'm sure you've heard of my father's preferences from the gossip surrounding the court."

"I've told you before, my Lady, that those in the North do not care for menial gossip." He reminded her.

Daenys nodded, exhaling deeply. "He loved my mother, though not as Daemon does." Or Harwin did, she left out. "But he could not change his affinity for his...squire." She finished, glancing at his facial expression only to see it unchanged.

"What of Ser Harwin?" The question made her nervous, though she refused to show it. His question was merely curious, not accusing or backhanded. "Your mother's sworn protector must have been around quite a lot, in your young years. What was he like?"

"Ser Harwin was a kind man. Kinder than any other knights at the Keep. He was Lord Commander of the kingsguard, though he never acted untoward or mean, not even once. He watched over me, in a time when many of the young kids in the keep had started to act as my scourages." She smiled in reminisce. "You remind me of him, slightly."

"How so?"

"A protector. A pillar of strength against harsh winds."

Cregan chuckled, though not unkindly. "I am glad you are able to see me that way, Princess. Perhaps you are a poet, not a sailor."

She laughed, loud and clearly. "If only you could see me at my septa's lessons, you would change your mind in a heartbeat. I jumbled the words so badly that two—two!—septas gave up trying to teach me to sing and recite poetry and music."

Cregan grinned at the sound, pleased to hear her laugh. "That can't be so, I've heard you humming little songs in High Valyrion when you are with Morningstar."

Bashful, she asked. "You heard that?"

"Most times, yes." He said. "Though I enjoyed it. I can't understand the words, but I can piece together that no words were stumbled over."

"Mm. Perhaps it is my audience, then. In front of my septas, their stares were so intense that I nearly cried when practicing in front of them. My dragon does not judge as they do, she sings along."

"I hope to be a well-mannered audience for you." He said, tone raillery and light.

Daenys didn't mind if he heard.

Night came fast, as it seemed to for the past days. Their routine came automatically: setting the tent, cooking kills over the fire, eating, conversing, and then finally heading to bed. They found their routine with changing into night shifts, as well. Simply turning as they changed at the same time instead of waiting their turns outside of the tent. Cregan and Daenys settled closely, breaths steady and visible in the night air.

It had grown jarringly cold. Daenys believed it was cold in Winterfell, but near The Wall was another story. She pitied those who lived at The Wall and the wildlings who were trapped beyond it.

Her streak of dreamless sleep was broken that night. She could barely see, but she could hear. She wished desperately that she couldn't, that she could forget the sounds that tormented her.

Sawing.

Slow, squelching, sawing.

She was in the Red Keep. The torches in the nursery were dim. So dim, that faces were impossible to clearly make out. But she could recognize Helena anywhere. Her sweet, sisterly Aunt Helena, who had never hurt a soul in her life, was pleading for two men to take her jewlery, take her, instead of her babe.

Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, if she remembered correctly. She had met them once, at the family dinner the night before Viserys died. Helena showed them proudly to her niece, though her youthful face reminded Daenys of just how young she was when she was forced to have the twins. The thought made her feel ill, but she smiled and greeted the shy children anyway.

The men refused to take Helena, insisted they needed a boy to die. They forced the sweet mother to point out her son, to which she did with a pained and stunned look on her face. Daenys wanted to reach out, comfort her aunt, and protect her babes with her. But her feet remained glued to the floor, unable to be seen or heard by anyone in the room. It was not happening at that moment. Would it truly happen soon? It was war. Dirty tactics were used all the time without remourse. Surely they were not sent by Rhaenyra...right? She would never seek babes to be harmed, especially after Visenya was lost days ago. This must be a false dream. Daenys only needed to wait it out.

Sawing.

Sawing, squelching, thrashing. It felt like it went on forever.

Until it stopped. Daenys blinked her eyes open, glancing at the bed. Jaehaerys' head was gone from his body. Jaehaera was missing from her bed. Helena was gone. Daenys found herself running, finally able to move now from her planted spot. She ran out of the nursery as if the two men would chase her, too. She followed after Helena, who abruptly stopped at the bottom of the steps. She turned around, revealing her purple tear-filled eyes and Jaehaera clutched protectively in her arms. Helena looked Daenys right in her eyes.

"Stop him." She whispered as if she could see Daenys standing in the middle of the steps plain as day. She continued running, perhaps to guards, leaving Daenys stunned at her spot.

Daenys was awoken after that. No one had ever seen her during her dreams. Not Laena, not Luke, nor Harwin or Laenor. Helena had similar dreams, she knew. Waking dreams, mumbling to herself while she was wide awake. Helena and her always shared that, though never spoke on it. Daenys was torn. Would that become true? Would Helena's son truly be murdered in his bed?

She could not think on it alone anymore. She needed a distraction. Her first thought was to seek out Morningstar, to curl up under her warmth, and stay there until the visions stopped plaguing her mind ruthlessly. She didn't have her books to draw in or her journals to write in. She couldn't let out her thoughts any way but speaking.

"Cregan..." She whispered, leaning up on her elbow and facing the man. He looked to be having a happy dream, smiling slightly in his sleep.

"Cregan, please. I need you." She whimpered, cold tears falling onto his face as she leaned over him. She could feel guilty later, but for now, she needed him desperately.

He flinched unconsciously at the wetness falling onto his face, wiping it and blinking himself awake. His eyes finally met her tear-filled lilac ones, sitting up instantly. He held her shoulders gingerly, "what's the matter, sweet girl? Are you hurt?" He scanned her, wide awake now at the chance of a threat around. He found no blood, only her own crescented nail prints in her palms from them behind clenched so harshly in her sleep. He took her hands in his own, soothing over them while he waited for her response.

Daenys' chest heaved raggedly, trying to catch her own breath from her panic. He reached out, pulling her by her head to his chest, allowing her to clutch his shirt instead of her own palms and hair to ground herself.

He calmed slightly, figuring the distress was caused by her dreams instead of a physical threat. Recalling her Valyrion lullabies that she hummed to her dragon, Cregan mindlessly hummed into her ear, chest vibrating with the use of his vocals. He never hummed or sang, didn't care for it, and was never taught it. But, he would try anything to pacify Daenys' storming mind.

Eventually, after many sobs and mumbles that Cregan couldn't make out, Daenys stilled in his arms.

"He will die. I don't know who I have to stop, Cregan."

He looked down at her head, face still buried and half-mumbled by his neck. "Who will die?"

"My cousin. Helena's babe, Jaehaerys." She whispered, mind reeling still.

Cregan bit his cheek harshly. It would happen, at an unknown time to the both of them. Sometime in the future, or perhaps as they spoke now. He didn't doubt her vision for a moment.

"What do you mean by stop him, sweeting? He asked, rubbing small shapes onto her back.

"Helena told me so. She saw me. Actually saw me. No one ever has before. She held Jaehaera as she told me to 'stop him'." Daenys insisted almost hysterically.

He nodded, allowing her to mumble some more incoherently into his skin.

Stop who? How could she prevent a murder in King's Landing all the way in the North? Even on Dragonstone, she was too far away to help Helena. She could not fly her dragon to Helena to warn her, lest she be shot down by a scorpion's lance. She could not send a raven, either, knowing it would be intercepted, and Daenys would be accused of plotting to murder the heir.

Who was it? Who could she access? Helena knew, she would not ask it of her if she knew Daenys couldn't do it. Luke and Jace would be back at Dragonstone by now, and had no ill intent towards anyone. Rhaenyra and Daemon would be too focused on their council meetings. What grievance did any of them have to go after Jaehaerys? She could not think of any.

"Who is it?" She asked Cregan, then. "Who could order a babe to die in his bed?"

"I do not know, Princess. I'm sorry." He said painfully, wishing to help her more than anything at that moment.

They stayed like that until sunrise. Cregan and Daenys held each other. The only sound in the air was her mumblings and his comforting shushing and hums. He knew they could not waste time, The Lord Commander at Castle Black had long been expecting them.

He guided an exhausted Daenys to his own horse, not trusting her to be able to stay on Mylo. She sat behind him, head slumped to his shoulders as they rode on for the final few hours towards the castle. Mylo loyally walked behind, knowing his faithful food source could only come from the Lord in front of him.

As they reached the gates of Castle Black, Daenys found herself waking up in awe. The Wall, rumored to reach the skies, truly was taller than anything she had ever seen before. Seven hundred feet of pure ice lay in front of her, an impenetrable fortress that protected all that lie South of it.

Cregan chuckled at her gaping reaction. "I felt the same way when I saw The Wall for the first time, too. It is an even better view on top, my Lady." He assured her, glad to see her distracted from her perturbed mood.

She nodded, shifting in the saddle impaitiently. She hands were wrapped around his waist, though didn't quite meet in the middle. He patted her hand as they waited for the gate to open, reminding her to be patient.

As Cregan hopped off, he helped Daenys from Red, staying close to her as a stable boy led both horses to be fed and watered. "My Lord Stark." Bowed a young man, who seemed familiar with Cregan. "We are glad to see you here. Would you like for yourself and the Princess to be shown to the dining hall for a hot meal?" He nodded politely towards Daenys, bowing swiftly once more at her.

Cregan took her hand in his arm, eyeing the men who had gathered around, leaning to each other and grinning wolfishly at the sight of a pretty young woman at Castle Black. The only women they ever saw were the ones in the small town near The Wall, which only had a few women who sold their services to the many men of the Night's Watch, and none were as pretty as noblewomen were bred to be. Cregan knew this all too well, hungry eyes watching the Princess like she were prey. Daenys shifted uncomfortably, aware of the intense gazes, though in a different way than Cregan.

"Is Lord Commander Trant not here?" Cregan asked.

The young man shook his head. "He's been conducting business at Queen's Gate for the past few days. He'll be back shortly, he promised to return before the afternoon."

Cregan nodded, a tick in his jaw. "The Princess and I will be on top of The Wall, while we wait. Do not disturb us." He commanded, striding towards the crickity little iron cage that was embedding into the ice. Daenys paused, reluctant to step into the death trap.

"This will take us all the way up to the top?"

He smiled, guiding her gently by the small of her back to step inside. "Don't worry, it is used every day and hasn't failed the Watch yet." Daenys flinched as it whirred to life, bringing them up foot by foot. She watched the ground grow distance below her, usually an exciting sight on her dragon, but now a terrifying one. She held tight to his arm as if he could save them both if the contraption failed.

It took a few minutes to reach the top. Cregan stepped out first, allowing her to jump out swiftly. She sighed, glad to be on solid ground. If it could be counted as such. Though The Wall was pure ice, Daenys was pleasantly surprised at it not being slippery. Perhaps due to the soft layer of snoe on top of it for her boots to grip.

Cregan brought her to the edge of The Wall, many in the Watch bowing and gawking at the sight of the pair. All knew of the Princess' expected visit, but had not prepared for the sight of a Targaryen in their lifetime.

The sight on the edge was truly otherworldly. Miles of expansive snowy forests and deserts, all unclaimed by man or beast.

"It is more beautiful than you said, Cregan." She said, eyes glued to the view.

"It is." He smiled, though seemed to tense slightly when she turned to him. "Daenys. I promised you that we would speak of the number of bannermen I would send for the Queen. I have had plenty time to think it through on our journey over here. As of now, I have 2,000 greybeards ready to die for their Queen's war."

Daenys nodded, listening to him intently. "Greybeards, like old men?" She asked half-humorously.

He nodded. "Winter is coming, and I can not freely give a large portion of my young men without something in return."

"Return?" She asked, growing nervous. He had not mentioned such a thing in their entire time together.

"Do you like Winterfell, your highness?" Cregan asked, brows furrowed as he looked down at her.

"Of course–I have grown to love the North."

"Would you..." he trailed off, hesitating slightly. "Would you be willing to live in the North?"

"As in...a marriage offer?" Daenys asked.

"Indeed. If I could have your hand, Daenys, in marriage, the North would have a dragon and a Princess. They would be more willing to fight in a Southern war if their own Wardeness was who they fought for."

Daenys stood there, stunned. Had he brought her all the way to The Wall just to ask for her? Is that why he had been so warm to her, so friendly? Her face hardened, though that did not go unnoticed by Cregan.

"Daenys, please hear me out." The man pleaded, clutching both of her hands in his own and bringing them up to her chest.

"I would not ask something of you that would displease you. I wish to keep you safe. And if, after the war, you wish to never see me again, I will allow you to live at Dragonstone or the Red Keep with your family. I will never force anything on you, never ask for sons. All I want is you. I have wanted for you for a while now. Please do not mistake my genuine feelings for using you. Know that the last thing in this world that I want to see is your unhappiness." He spoke breathlessly.

"I love you, my sweet dreamer. It would truly kill me to see you at the mercy of some old and cruel Lord, who would keep you from happiness. If that makes me a selfish man, then so be it. But at least I am an honest one."

Daenys felt her chest swell with an unknown emotion, throat tight, and eyes glossing with tears. "Love me? How could you love me after all that you have seen from me, Cregan?" She whispered, voice taut with emotion.

He took her face into his hands, wiping away at her eyeline to ensure no tears fell from them. He kissed the spot between her brows with the utmost reverence, pulling away but not moving his hands. "How could I not? All I have seen, I adore. Do not simplify your entire being to your dreams–that is merely one part of you." He interrupted her, knowing exactly what she could argue against.

"Cregan..." she felt the warmth in his mismatching eyes fill her body with a soft heat, though they were surrounded by the winds so high up she barely even felt it.

Before she could finish, an older man came marching towards them.

"Lord Commander," the Stark greeted, though his irritation wasn't hidden. "I asked to be left alone until we returned."

"Forgive me, Lord Stark, Princess." The man bowed his head twice in turn. "There has been a letter awaiting the Princess since you left Winterfell. It is dire."

Daenys' eyes widened, it must be from Rhaenyra. Was there an update on the war? Cregan took the scroll in his hands, unrolling it slowly. She watched as his face dropped before looking to Daenys with a sympathetic gleam in his eyes.

"What?" Her voice wavered. "What has happened?" She didn't want to know. She wanted to stay oblivious in the North forever, keeping time paused back at home.

The Lord Commander shifted his gaze down sadly, respectfully taking his leave to the rickity lift so the two could talk.

Cregan placed a hand on her bicep in a comforting way, but she shook her head, urging him on. "Tell me."

"Its about your brother, Lucerys." He said softly.

"Luke? What of him?" She already had her suspicion. She saw him that night, the night she stayed at Winterfell. Daenys was forced to watch the boy and his young dragon being chased through stormy skies by a much bigger, looming beast.

She saw him, and continued treating with Lord Stark. Daenys left her brother to the wolves—or more accurately the dragon. All for a few thousand men to fight in a useless, stupid war. For what? What is the use of sitting atop of the Iron Throne if all of your children will be dead. Is that mot Rhaenyra's legacy? Is Jacaerys next? Little, sweet Joff and the babes Viserys and Aegon? Is she next?

"He is dead. Aemond Targaryen killed him with Vhagar."

No.

He was not dead. Lucerys was playing a prank on her. This time, he just took it too far. He loved his pranks, especially on his eldest sister, who was so easy to fool.

Lucerys was alive and waiting for her shocked face to burst through Dragonstone's doors.

"He's not dead." She shook her head, stepping back from Cregan. "Luke is fine. That letter must be his idea of a jest, 'tis all." She nodded to herself, solidifying her own words.

"Daenys—"

"I will marry you upon my return to Winterfell, whenever the Queen allows me time. You can send a raven to Dragonstone with how many extra men my hand will bring her. Farewell, Lord Stark." She bid him, focusing on making her way to the lift. She entered it, being sent up just in time for her to be allowed down.

"Daenys!" He yelled, tugging her arm roughly to his chest. Cregan loosened his grip apologetically, but did not allow her out of his reach.

She faced him, face scrunched up in a furious glare. "Let go of me. It is treasonous to lay a hand on your Princess." She bit harshly.

Cregan pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms firmly around her back and head, resting her head on his shoulder gently. "Don't go like this, Princess. It is dangerous to fly in such a state." He murmured into her hair, feeling her tense form shiver.

"What do you know of flying? Morningstar will get me to Dragonstone swiftly, she is the fastest of our dragons—" Daenys was cut off by her own sobs wracking her body violently.

If it were Morningstar sent to Storm's End, she could've outflown Vhagar. Little Arrax, with all his youthful pride, was the smallest yet of the three eldest children's dragons. He just barely started to be able to fly with Luke on his back. It had barely been a year since he'd grown big enough. They were both but mere babes in comparison to Vhagar and Aemond.

"It's not fair!" She yelled into his pelts. She could barely breathe, knees weak and unable to hold herself up. Cregan lowered them both to the floor, keeping her securely in his lap. "My boy, he's only a child. He should've stayed home, I should've kept him safe." She nearly screamed at herself. Her stupidity and foolishness.

How dare the Gods show her Luke's death but not Laenor's. How could they hate her so much? Hate her family? Did the gods hate bastards as much as their creations?

"It's not fair, I know. But you couldn't have done anything, my Lady." He cooed softly in her ear.

"I could, I have known for weeks and done nothing! Lived in obliviousness while my brother has been lost to the sea."

Living like a common whore, allowing herself to sleep next to a man that she was not married to. Allowing him to see her bare, and not being nearly as modest as a Lady should be. Alicent was right, she was always right. She was just like her mother. If she had stayed with Cregan in the wilderness for any longer, would she have allowed him to bed her, too? Would she father his bastard and be forced to cover it with a false marriage?

Daenys needed to leave.

But her legs did not obey her still.

Cregan gave her a pitying glance, one that she could not see in her own wallowing. Nothing he could say could truly get through to her. No one could comfort him for weeks after his own little brother passed. The guilt never leaves.

"Come, Princess. I will not send you off without first making sure you have food in your belly and warmer pelts around you." Cregan told her, but did not make her walk. Instead, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the dining hall, which he demanded be cleared for her privacy. She was despondent the whole time, silent and unmoving. It was only the Lord and Lady in the room, besides a young serving boy.

Daenys glanced up at him, finding kind brown eyes staring at her as the boy dropped stew in front of her. "M'sorry for your loss, M'Lady." He bowed his head low, brown curls shifting at the movement. Why was a boy jis age serving The Wall? Orphaned, most likely, or sold by his parents. She didn't know which fate was worse.

What she did know was that the boy was nearly a spitting image of Lucerys. She hung her head again, unable to look at the young boy. Cregan thanked him quietly, sending him on his way. Their stews began to grow cold in the silence, the both of them still as statues.

"You must eat, Daenys." Cregan urged.

"I will only throw it back up, I cannot stomach anything right now."

"Try, my Lady. Just a few bites. Half."

Sluggishly, she picked up the spoon and took slow bites. Chewing felt like it took ages, and swallowing was nearly painful. Her head spun, feelng nausea rising in her. Once she got through half, Cregan looked satisfied. Daenys stood, and he mirrored her action.

She led him to the iron gate, waiting for it to open. Outside of it, Morningstar was already crouched to allow her to leave. Cregan took off his brown pelts that she had been using as blankets for the past nights, pulling them snug over her shoulders.

"I already have a cloak on." She said tiredly, though did not fight his action.

"For my assurance, 'tis all." He said, fastening the direwolf clip around it. "Your flight home will be much colder than the one you took to Winterfell."

He paused a moment, clutching her hand in his. He placed a gentle kiss on her cold knuckles, lingering a moment longer. "I will send four thousand of my young soldiers to your mother's cause. That will be six thousand Northerners to fight for the Blacks. Return to me safely, Princess. That's all I ask of you."

They were officially bethrothed. Daenys wished it was under better circumstances, but this is the card she was dealt. Daenys nodded, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Then she left.

Daenys stopped after a few minutes of flying, throwing up what little she ate into a thorned bush. One snagged on her cheek as she stood up straight, coughing slightly. How very like her to enjoy a meal while her family was waiting anxiously for her return. Daenys mounted Morningstar again, not looking back at The Wall before taking flight again. This time, she would not stop until she was home.

🗡

She could see King's Landing in the distance and had half a mind to burn it all down. Morningstar could easily do so. Even the small folk, along with all the peasant bastards that shared blood with her, would burn. She wouldn't care. As long as Aemond Targaryen would be dead at her feet, she would do it. Perhaps they all deserved it. Sin was the only thing able to survive and breed in King's Landing.

Morningstar was exhausted by the time they landed on the dragonpit's perch. Meleys and Caraxes were already in the pit, roaring to greet their kin excitedly. They, too, were being fed after clearly long flights. Patrols, she guessed. "Feed her." She demanded the Dragonkeepers as she passed them, who were too stunned at her sudden appearance to even bow or greet their Princess.

Daenys charged into the Painted Table room, seeing it lit with a bright orange glow as multiple men surrounded it. Rhaenyra wasn't there. Why where they holding a Queen's council without the Queen? Daemon was at the head, just as he had been when Rhaenyra was screaming in her chambers whilst giving birth to his daughter.

There was no one to announce Daenys. No one had expected her that evening, especially with no warning. There was no time for it, either, as Rhaenyra was announced by a guard. Daenys quickly moved aside when he spoke, shifting next to Jace, who squeezed her hand at the sight of her puffy face. She could not look him in the eye, nor Daemon, who kept his keen eye on her until Rhaenyra entered.

The Queen strided in, meeting Daemon in the middle. He whispered something to her, earning a solemn nod. Rhaenyra continued past him to the head of her table.

"Your council stands at the ready, Your Grace." Daemon bellowed for all to hear him clearly. Daenys only paid mind to her mother's dreadful state. Unkempt hair, ash covered face, hands sandy and clutching at some piece of cloth that Daenys could not figure out. "I will fly to Harrenhall at your command. Set our toehold in the Riverlands."

"Your Grace, my Lord husband's blockade of the Gullet moves into place. All seaborne travel and trade to King's landing will soon be cut off."

The Queen did not respond to her aunt or husband. A great silence held the room until, "I want Aemond Targaryen." Was her command. She waited a mere moment, glancing at Daenys before leaving to her chambers to fix her state.

Daenys was led to her room by Jacerys, who insisted she get out of her heavy Northern attire now that she was in better temperatures. She cared little for the heat that the clothes engulfed her with now that they were quite useless on Dragonstone, but allowed her maids to change her anyway. She bathed, too, and had her hair done up more traditionally. She kept Cregan's personal furs on the wooden edge of her bed, carefully ensuring they were untouched.

Jacaerys waited outside the whole time, escorting her with an outstretched arm to their mother's chambers. "Are you okay, Dae?" He asked gently, as if she might crumble if he spoke in a normal tone.

She sniffed slightly, nodding. "I am fine. I will be well when Aemond is dead and burned."

The tone of her voice and her violent words shocked him, pausing his steps abruptly.

"Was...did something happen in the North? Besides the news?" He asked, dark brows knitting together.

"Nothing happened. Why do you ask?" She turned to him suspiciously, not wishing to share every detail of what happened. She did not wish to enlighten her family of her brutal killing. That would be between Daenys and Cregan until the day she died. And perhaps Rhaenyra, who might have the answers to her burning questions.

"I am merely concerned. Was he a borish man? I wish I could've gone to the North in your stead, sister. Lady Jeyne was kind enough, she would've liked you." Jace said, slowly meeting her steps once again.

"Lord Stark is not like the typical depiction of a northman. I handled him just fine." Was her vague answer. Truly, Daenys was happy to see her brother again. To be with her family again. But her joy was dulled by the missing presence in the halls. The one who was meant to greet her in the dragonpit. Jacaerys gave her a pitying look, opening Rhaenyra's chambers.

Their mother sat on a couch, meeting her children's eyes as they walked in and bowed. She looked more put together now that she received the same treatment as Daenys.

Rhaenyra stood, awaiting Daenys and Jacaerys to give their messages. Her chest heaved slightly, something that would have gone unnoticed by anyone but her children, who knew her too well. Jace started. "Lady Jeyne Arryn has pledged her support. In exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale." His voice shook. He had been home for two weeks, yet in Daemon's firm presence, he forced himself to be strong and hard. He had not seen his mother except for her quick visits to eat and feed Syrax.

Rhaenyra nodded encouragingly, eyes brimming red.

"Lord Cregan stark has pledged 2,000 greybeards to you. In exchange for my hand, he promises another 4,000 young men." Daenys stated firmly. She refused to waver even slightly. Even when she wished to be held in her mother's arms. She couldn't let herself be comforted by the woman who had lost her own child. Daenys was the one who must comfort her when her own husband was so useless at it. His biggest flaw.

Rhaenyra and Jace looked shocked at the news. "You gave him your hand?" Jacaerys asked, a worried look on his face. "But–"

"I gave Cregan Stark my hand in exchange for 4,000 men. It is a fair trade, Jacaerys." She told him, holding no grudge or sorrow for it. She didn't wish for her family to, either. "He is an honest man. He will send every last one to fight for you, my Queen."

"That is not his concern. The Starks keep their oaths, yes. But are you happy with the arrangement, my sweet girl?" Rhaenyra asked, cupping Daenys' cheeks in the way that always made Daenys melt. She didn't trust her voice, so she simply nodded. Rhaenyra took Jace and Daenys into her arms. She could feel the quiet sobs deep in their chest, both seeking comfort in the reunion. Daenys held them tightly, afraid to let go. She had her time to cry, in Cregan's arms, now it was her time to finally make herself useful.

The Targaryens and Velayrons stood outside on a tall hill of Dragonstone's rocky beaches. Rhaenyra placed Lucerys' red tunic, the one she had found with Arrax's wing, onto the pyre's stand, reluctantly stepping back once she did. Jacaerys, holding little Joff, placed one of Luke's blankets onto the pyre. Joffrey, who didn't quite understand the funeral and its meaning, tossed a wooden horse that Luke handed down to him into the pyre.

Daenys stepped up, glancing at Rhaena across the fire's glow, seeing her struggle to keep her composure. She mourned for their broken betrothal along with her cousin, knowing they would have made a very happy couple. She clutched onto Luke's favorite tunic. The one she gave him for his three and tenth name day. Even when it grew tighter on him each month during his growthspurt, he still insisted he wore it. It had an embroidered three-headed dragon on it, in the colors of House Velayron. A testament to his future station as Lord of the Tides and a Targaryen. She stitched it for days, ensuring it was perfect for him. Daenys tossed it into the pyre, stepping beside Jace and watching the fire burn out. Most left after a respectable amount of time. Rhaenyra and Daenys stayed until the fire stopped entirely.

Her mother rubbed her back soothingly, allowing Daenys to rest her head on her shoulder. "Mother, I have so many things to ask you. A lot has happened in the North..." She muttered.

"Let us go inside. After you rest, I will dedicate my morning only to you." Rhaenyra promised, kissing the crown of Daenys' head affectionately. Daenys nodded, watching her mother walk back inside to retire for the evening.

A boat's movement caught her eye. Her squinted, lifting her skirts to walk slightly further down the hill. An intruder? No, they were leaving the beach. Daenys thought for a moment, there were very few on the island, and even less who had a reason to leave in secret. Unless...was it true? Were Daemon and Rhaenyra plotting to take Aemond's life in the dead of night?

No. Daenys gasped, sprinting towards the entrance doors of the castle. She needed her own way of transportation to King's Landing.

She was able to find a man who reluctantly took her on his small fishingboat. She doned a dark cloak that she was able to scrounge up in her hurry. Daenys tossed a bag of coins into his awaiting palm, not caring to count what was in it. The boat ride felt excruciatingly long, anticipation rising in her every minute. The thought of being caught made her scared, but the thought of Daemon getting to Jaehaerys before she did scared her worse.

Finally, the man stopped at a discreet sandy part of King's Landings' side wall. There was an extrance nearby, as well as another anchored fishing boat. Daenys scowled. How long had Daemon been there ahead of her? "Stay here." She called behind her, sprinting towards the open entrance in the wall while holding her hood over her silver hair.

There were no guards at it, unsurprisingly. They had all grown lazy under Aegon's leniency. She wandered the dark and damp streets unti she found an iron gate with a hooded figure waiting at it. A guard was walking away from the gate, small purse of coins clutched in his meaty fist.

"Daemon!" Daenys whisper-yelled, grabbing her step-father by his cloak and yanking him back. He barely stumbled but still had the audacity to look shocked and angry at her.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded.

"You fool! You didn't kill Aemond. Do you think that lazy, drunken, craven could kill him?"

"I ordered him to kill Aemond, of course he will. If not, I'll find a way in myself." Daemon scoffed. Daenys grabbed his arms tightly, shaking her head. "You killed Jaehaerys. You killed a babe!" She yelled, uncaring of who would hear now. Perhaps it was both of their karma to die in King's Landing for attempting to kill Helena's son. Maybe if they were caught, they would catch the two men before they cold. Rhaenyra could find two more riders for their dragons, somewhere.

Daemon covered her mouth, pulling her to a less lit corner of the street before anyone could recognize them. "Are you mad, girl? You will get us both killed—" She punched him in the face, not staying to watch him clutch his nose before running back to her boat in a flurry of black and silver.

Daenys rode back to Dragonstone in a silent mourning. Jaehaerys would die. She knew it this time. She followed her dreams, finally. But still lost to fate. Or lost to Daemon. That coward, sending a guard to kill the kinslayer. He should be challenging Vhagar and the One-eyed Prince himself.

They could take him together. If only he trusted her to fight. Morningstar was large and battle-ready. Her and Caraxes would surely dominate the fight, a son for a son.

Not a child for a child.

Daenys slipped into her chambers, waiting for the news to wake the castle up. It wouldn't be long.

🗡

dont mind me using morningstar and dusk as parallels for cregan and daenys 😋

changing the times between Jace and Rhaenyra arriving. Let's say Rhaenyra was coming and going for two weeks, only coming back when she had to eat and let syrax eat. Jace came back the day the raven came to bring the news, and has been ruling with Daemon in her place. Just to say Rhaenyra and Daenys came back officially at the same time to continue the plot forward with no gaps.

[harrystylesfan2686]

Pieces Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader.

Summary: You finally confront Azriel about your feelings which ends in huge argument.

A/N: thank you to everyone who read and loved Pieces. I tried my best to make Azriel up to your expectations. I hope you all like this!

Pieces Masterlist

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I stopped making efforts with Azriel.

I stopped talking to him. Stopped waking up with him to wish him goodbye at the door. Stopped asking him about his day at dinner. Even stopped waiting for him to eat. I make our lunch, eat and get out of the house. Walking until I'm sure he's gone again. Come home make dinner, eat and sleep without waiting for him.

I accepted the fact that he doesn't want me anymore.

He still kisses me goodbye though.

So I guess there is still hope but I don't want it.

I open my eyes and glance to Azriel's empty bedside. I rub my eyes, already feeling tired even though I just started my day. I havn't been getting good enough sleep lately, staying up almost every night, rethinking everything over and over again. And when I do get sleep, it's always dreamless. I always feel like I fell alseep just a minute ago. I sit up on my bed to find a note on the bedside.

Dinner at Rhys tonight.

Four plain words in Azriel's handwriting. He didn't even sign it with his name. I sigh and get up from bed. I don't want to face anyone right now. I'm too tired to put on an act of being happy. Well at least I won't have to make food.

My throat feels scratchy. I warm up a little water to relieve the soreness but it doesnt make any difference. I suddenly sneeze, covering my face and freeze after realization finally hits me. I'm sick. I groan.

Can this day get any worse?

-☆-

When we arrived at the river house, I conversed with everyone for a while, catching up on everything after not seeing any of them for so long.

Feyre complemented my dress and commented on how my face looks different. I laughed a little saying that's because she hadn't seen me in so long, hoping my smile and lie seemed real enough for her to not get suspicious.

When I sneezed and coughed again, she figured I was sick and scolded me a little for coming, saying I should've stayed home and rested. I shrugged at that.

When we sat down on the table, Azriel whispered to me,"Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" To which I had kept looking away and answered,"You didn't ask." He didn't say anything else to me and neither did I to him. In fact I didn't talk to anyone much and only spoke when asked to do so the whole time.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" Azriel questioned when we walk into our house. I hang my coat on the coat stand and remove my shoes, taking my time answering him and finally say,"As I said before, you didn't ask."

"How was I supposed to know? And you didn't even spend much time with me. You went straight to Feyre, the second we entered and didn't talk to me at all the whole night." I could hear irritation in his voice which made me clench my jaw.

I took a deep breath,"I didn't realise you missed me so much considering you were glued to Elain all night." I spit out without looking at him and walk to our bedroom.

"What do you mean by that?" He follows me.

"Nothing." I sigh not wanting to have this argument right now but, of course, he doesn't care about that.

"No, tell me." He frowned.

"You talked to Elian all night so I thought, maybe I shouldn't disturb whatever conversation you must have going on." My lips thin as I look up at him.

"I had no choice but to talk to her because you didn't talk to me and and we were the only two people left alone." He said.

"Alright. But that was tonight. What about that other days and nights you spend with her? You like her. I get it. You don't need to explain yourself." My eyes fill with unwanted tears and I look away from him. I try to get away from him but he grabs my arm to keep me there.

"Yes, I like talking to her, but I would prefer to talk to you more." He says softly. I scoff.

"Don't lie az. Do us both a favor and accept it that you like her company better. I have." I snatch my arm back and try to walk away. He still follows me.

"No. I admit I like her company but no more than yours. You are more important." He stops in front of me.

"I don't believe that." A tear falls down my face. His eyes look into mine with confusion. "I watch you with her. How happy and content you look in her presence. Everyday you come home, speak barely two words to me and go back to her again." I fold my arms on my chest and look down. "You spend the time with her that youre suppose to spend with me. You tell her the things you should tell me. Your like her. More than me."

"That's not true. My love, I like you a lot more than her. You are the most important to me." His hand wips my tears and rests on my cheek. I rip it off me. "I don't believe you." I look at him with anger.

"You tell me Azriel, when was the last time you commented on my cooking? The last time you told how I looked? When was the last time you asked me how I was doing? When was the last time you held me? The last time you truly listened to me?" His expression falls in realisation, as my questions grow. "When was the last time you told you loved me and fucking meant it?!" I breath heavy, looking at his face tilted down, eyes cast down.

"I-," He clears his throat. "I did always meant when I said I loved you."

I turn to the other side. I can't look at him. I cover my eyes and try to focus on settling down my breathing. "I think you should leave." I whisper and turn to him again.

His head snaps to mine. "No! No. No. No. Don't push me away. Please." His voice cracks and a tear falls down his eyes. "Please give me a chance to fix this. Please don't push me away." His hands on either side of me and puts his forehead against mine, eyes looking into mine filled with tears and anguish.

"You pushed me away first." I whisper, gently taking his hands off of me and his face crumbles as more tears fall down. I cry with him.

"I just need time." I watch him nod silently, wiping his face clear with his hands while stepping away from me.

"Okay. I'll be in the house of wind. Please come to me when you're ready. I want to fix this. I don't want to let you go." I nod silently, not trusting my words.

I watch him nod again and go out of the door, leaving me alone in the house we bought together. Leaving me alone for my thoughts and memories to haunt me in the dead of the night. I'll be alright though. I'll take my time to think everything through. I'll heal myself then think about giving azriel a chance to heal us.

I just need time.

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Tags: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @crazylokonugget

[wileys-russo]

insomniac II k.mccabe x reader

kinda love this, kinda hate this. based around the request here insomniac II k.mccabe x reader

you sighed quietly as your eyes started to ache, latched wide awake and glaring up at the ceiling, counting sheep no longer working as it never did.

you'd tried everything under the sun to settle enough to sleep for more than a broken half hour, it never worked. there was always a small part of you that was wired, buzzing and alight with an energy that came from god knows where.

you'd tried medication of course at the advice of your doctor but it just left you feeling spaced out and drowsy, often waking up just as tired as if you'd stayed awake through the night anyway.

your mind ticked over and over thoughts swirling round your head like fish in a pond, never stopping or slowing always just going around and around no real destination or end in sight.

it was always at its worst when you had something to fixate on and tomorrows derby was exactly that. your worries and doubts about your performance crept in, picking and picking and picking at every little insecurity or doubt or worry that crept in with your walls down and at your most vulnerable.

then you were bold enough to tap your phone, big mistake.

3:47am.

you silently screamed, dragging your hands down your face, now somehow even more awake with the glaring reminder of the time, your alarm set for 8:30am.

your hand hovered on the bedside table, fingers just inches away from your phone as you bit down on your bottom lip. you knew she would be here in ten minutes flat despite living double that distance away, foot to the floor at your beckoned call.

you normally slept soundly with your girlfriend beside you, her strong arms wrapped around you, slender fingers carded through your hair and the repeated steady thumping of her heartbeat lulling you into the most dreamless sleep you could ever wish for.

but that didn't mean it happened every single time, and you knew better than to mess with katie's sleep schedule as well as your own. so on the nights before matches you always had some sort of excuse prepared why you couldn't spend the night with her, and you weren't sure katie believed all of them, but she never pushed you about it.

6:52am.

you suddenly jolted back awake, a sudden chilling anxiety creeping in that you'd overslept you were quick to tap your phone, groaning loudly seeing the time, having only fallen asleep around a quarter to five.

giving up with a sigh you kicked off the covers, sending them flying to the floor with a soft thump as you swung out of bed, rubbing your face and leaving your phone to charge. grabbing your blanket off the ground you wrapped it around you and padded out to the living room.

you collapsed onto your lounge with a deafeated sigh, wrapped in your doona like a burrito as you clicked the tv on, settling for the cooking channel knowing it wasn't something you'd be too focused on watching.

"baby? darlin?" your eyes fluttered awake hearing a voice faintly calling your name, though assuming it was some sort of dream you settled yourself again. "jesus christ here ya are!" but they shortly opened again as the voice grew louder, and you blinked tiredly seeing a blurry figure looming over you.

"hey. did you sleep here?" hands softly grabbed your face as you blinked again and suddenly your girlfriends worried face was hovering near yours as she knelt down by the lounge.

"no i just...just dozed off. what time is it?" you asked groggily, barely able to keep your eyes open as katies frown deepened. "ten. you were a no show for breakfast, i was worried something happened to ya." katie spoke quietly, thumbs stroking your flushed cheeks.

"oh shit! i'm so sorry." you exhaled, shooting up suddenly as her hands fell to her sides and you rubbed your eyes, seeing stars for a moment as you stopped and stretched. "i thought i set my alarm and i-" you stopped, frantically patting around you and coming up empty.

"it's in my room." you realised with a sigh, burying your face in your hands as katie moved to sit beside you. "hey, did you sleep at all last night? don't take this the wrong way sweets but ya look like shit." katies tone was laced with concern, unable to ignore the deep bags under your eyes.

"yeah yeah i'm fine. how long have i got?" you brushed off her worry with a shake of your head. "couple hours. is your bag packed?" katie questioned, wanting nothing more than to continue questioning you but knowing that wasn't going to help anything right now.

"no, i was supposed to get up and do it before i met you for breakfast." you groaned in realization, the stress already mounting on your shoulders at your careless error. "hey." katie grabbed your hands, tugging them away from your face and turning you to look at her.

"you go and have a shower, do your skin care stuff or whatever you call it. i'll pack your bag and cook us somethin to eat, okay?" she stated more than questioned, staring you down as you nodded, knowing better than to try and argue with her.

"sorry." you exhaled into her shoulder as she pulled you into a tight hug. "don't be. my job to look after ya when you forget, god knows you've done it for me!" her body vibrated with a small chuckle as she pulled away, placing a kiss to your forehead and nodding for you to head toward the bathroom.

~

"smells good baby, thank you." your hoodie covered arms wrapped around the slightly taller girls hips, your cheek resting against her back as you leaned into her where she stood by your stove dishing up.

you kissed her cheek appreciatively as she handed you a plate, nodding for you to sit down as she dished up her own food. "you gonna be honest about not sleepin then?" katie asked, breaking the silence once filled by the scraping of cutlery against plates.

"i told you, i'm fine." you sighed at her concern, rolling your eyes and continuing to eat. "you're not." katie pushed, jaw clenching at your denial. "i am katie, drop it." you warned, fixing her with a firm look which she only met with one of her own.

"whatever, stubborn idiot." your girlfriend scoffed quietly, shaking her head as you bit your tongue not to snap at her, knowing part of the reason you were so moody was because you hadn't slept, and you hardly wanted to any further prove her worries to be worthwhile.

the silence continued as you finished eating, grabbing yours and your girlfriends dishes and washing them up, leaving her to have some space to cool down before you'd both need to be in game mode.

sure enough right as you were finished she appeared, hugging you tightly from behind as her face tucked into your neck. "ya know i only bug you about it cause i care, right?" katie mumbled as you sighed, moving your hands to rest on top of hers.

"i know. but i don't need this today, we have bigger things to focus on." you spoke gently, leaning back into her a little more and feeling her nod, the two of you standing there just appreciating one anothers embrace for a moment, katie gently swaying the two of you side to side.

"right i'm getting seasick babe." you joked, tapping her hands as they let go of your waist and the irishwoman unwound from around you. "mm not so fast darlin. think ya might be forgettin somethin?" katie caged you in against the counter, arms either side of your body and a cheeky grin ingrained into her features.

"hmm. breakfast? check. shower? check. cuddle? check. bags packed? check. sounds like we're ready to leave love!" you smiled teasingly, knowing exactly what she wanted. "think harder." katies body pressed into yours, grin growing as she leant in closer and closed.

"oh! of course baby, how could i forget." you gasped, leaning up as if to kiss her but ducking under her arm, the older girl stumbling forward as you darted away. "gotta put my trainers on!" you winked as she quickly turned.

you laughed as she chased after you, grabbing the back of your pants and yanking you down onto the lounge before you could make a break for the front door, your body toppling down on top of hers.

"caught ya baby girl!" she grinned, bunching your hoodie in her fists and pulling your mouth to meet hers, the two of you smiling into the kiss. you indulged her for a few moments, allowing her tongue to slip in as you grabbed her face deepening the kiss even further before forcing yourself to pull away.

"baby as much as i love you and i love doing this, we're running late."

~

"hey y/l/n, can i grab you for a second please?" you looked up from where you were stretching with a few of the girls, one of the assistant coaches and medic waiting for you as you nodded, excusing yourself from your previous conversation with frida and noelle.

"is everything alright?" you questioned with a frown, the two of them requesting you come to the medical room with them. your worry grew when neither of them answered you, and it doubled as you entered the room and saw you weren't alone.

"okay why do i feel like this is an intervention? are you sending me to AA?" you joked, tone laced with nervousness as both your captains for club and for country sat waiting.

"please take a seat. you're not in any trouble we just want to talk about something that's been flagged." martin, the assistant coach smiled kindly, gesturing for you to take a seat as you pulled yourself up onto one of the physio benches.

"flagged?" you frowned, confusion peaking into curiosity. "its been mentioned you've been having some trouble sleeping, and this has raised some questions about your ability to be match fit today." kim spoke up first, eyes raking over you with concern.

"let me guess, katie?" you rolled your eyes, nerves and confusion now replaced with annoyance and frustration. "easy mate, you know she loves you which is why its being taken seriously, she'd hardly lie." leah spoke softly but fixed you with a look as you opened your mouth to argue.

"what have i got to do to prove i'm fine then? i can play! look i'm wide awake. i'll count backwards from 100? walk a straight line? do the alphabet?" you rambled on, eyes daring around the room.

"this isn't to test if you've been drinking and driving." martin chuckled. "so what do i need to do? other than go and warm up, which i'm missing!" you made a point, pointing out of the door and toward the pitch.

"katie said you didn't sleep last night, and that you've struggled with a regular sleep schedule for a rather long time." julie the medic questioned, having you look in a few different directions as she shone a bright light in your eyes.

"i have insomnia, its diagnosed and the club has record of that. it's never stopped me playing before." you winced at the light, blinking a few times to adjust as she finished with a hum. "do you take medication to help you sleep?" julie questioned.

"....yeah." you answered, clearly a little too slowly for everyone's liking. "don't lie." leah warned, crossing her arms sternly. "i used to take benzodiazepines but i stopped because i was waking up feeling even worse than if i just didn't sleep." you admitted honestly with a sigh.

"have you seen a doctor about that? tried other medication?" julie pressed, scribbling things down on a clipboard.

"i've seen multiple doctors and tried everything. i've not had a proper sleep schedule since i was a teenager and i still play at my best every single match. so why the hell is my fitness and ability being questioned now from the concerns of one person? a person who wasn't even with me last night to know if i slept or not!" you snapped, patience coupled with a lack of sleep bubbling over.

"sorry." you apologized quickly, looking down at the floor. "if you're not sleeping, you're not rested. and if you're not rested your body is more susceptible to fatigue and to injuries." julie spoke up first, handing her clipboard to martin whose eyes raked over her findings with a frown.

"the line up is already announced and i'm starting. you can't bench me, please! it's the derby and i am fine." you all but begged, sending pleading looks to both kim and leah to back you up. "it's not our call." kim sent you a small sympathetic smile as you groaned, head thumping back against the wall behind you as you awaited your fate.

"we'll be back in just a minute." martin promised as he and julie stepped out for a moment, door closing behind them. "this is such bullshit." you spat, pulling your knees up to your chest and glaring at the wall.

"why haven't you told any of us about this? why hasn't katie brought it up until now?" kim asked with a frown as you rolled your eyes. "because i am fine, and its nobodies business anyway! its not like im a fucking vampire and i don't ever sleep." you grumbled, body hunched over and tense with frustration.

"don't bite our heads off! we care too." leah warned making you roll your eyes. "if you cared you'd back me up and advocate they let me play." you huffed, glancing to the door and frowning as it still didn't open.

"how long did you sleep last night then?" kim questioned with a raised eyebrow. "again, don't lie." leah added on, forever like the nagging sister you'd never had before.

"few hours here and there, i got enough. i feel fine!" "if you say you're fine one more time i'm gonna shove my-" "leah that is not helping right now."

luckily enough for you martin and julie returned before either kim or leah could say another word, your nerves increasing as you looked between them eagerly awaiting their verdict.

"you can play today."

you sighed in relief, pumping your fist happily but your smile dropped as julie held up a hand. "but you'll need to start seeing a therapist weekly, and we'll need to see an updated diagnosis and medication review." she finished as your eyes bugged in surprise.

"a therapist?" you scoffed pulling a face. "would you rather be benched?" leah warned raising an eyebrow as you held your hands up in surrender. "okay! i agree to that. now can i go and warm up please?" you hopped down from the bench, waiting eagerly to be dismissed as martin nodded with a flick of his hand and within seconds you were gone.

but as your feet hit the pitch again, there was only one target you locked in on, marching angrily towards her.

"oi what the fuc-" she turned around with a murderous glare as you shoved her in the back sending her stumbling forward. "you've got some fucking nerve mccabe." you shoved her again, eyes slit into a glare of your own.

"baby listen just-" "don't you baby me. how dare you go behind my back and complain to the coaching staff that i'm not match fit who the hell do you think you are?" she grabbed your hands in hers as you tried to push her again, holding on tightly and dragging you back toward the tunnel, ignoring your complaints.

"i'm ya girlfriend and your team mate, and as both of those i know you're not match fit. those bags under your eyes aren't louis v darlin." katie spat as you yanked your hands out of her grip. "i don't care who you are, you had no fucking right katie you almost got me benched for one of the most important matches of the season!" you growled, both of your hands balled into fists.

"oh is that so? well if i had my way you'd be benched till you learned to act your fucking age and how to look after yourself!" katie shot back with a sneer, both of you far too agitated and hot headed to think rationally about the words exchanged.

"girls!"

before either of you could continue to lash out your heads snapped toward kim who stood a few metres away, captains armband on and hands on her hips, leah lingering behind her with the same unimpressed look.

"you're a fucken child sometimes throwing ya toys out when ya don't get your own way. grow up!" katie spat before storming off back to the pitch as you scoffed, opening your mouth to yell after her before an arm fell to your shoulder and a hand covered your mouth.

"you'll thank me later." leah warned, guiding you back out to the pitch as kim headed off after katie.

~

and you hadn't entirely lied you were feeling fine...for the first twenty or so minutes of the match.

you hated to admit it but the longer you played the more you really realized how tired you were, you missed easy passes, your tackles were sloppy and you found yourself far more out of breath than usual.

when the half time whistle finally sounded after six minutes of extra allotted injury time your shoulders sagged with relief, and you found yourself doubled over with your hands on your knees.

"you right mate?" you knew from the voice that it was lotte but as you looked up to her her face was blurred and you could only nod, following after her and into the tunnel.

you paused to lean against the wall once you were out of sight, rubbing your eyes and seeing stars but with a few shakes of your head your vision cleared and you stumbled into the change rooms, missing the concerned looks thrown your way by a few of your team mates.

"fuck off i'm fine." you mumbled as katie approached you, scoffing in disbelief and shaking her head, storming off to sit on the other side of the room as jonas started to address everyone.

you tried your best to listen, but your ears were ringing lightly and you found your fingers jammed into them, wiggling desperately to try and cease the noise, too distracted to hear a few of the girls try to check in with you.

it was only when a hand fell to your shoulder that you jolted to attention, your face flushing bright red in embarrassment as you realized you'd been directly addressed by the coaching staff.

"sorry i got some grass in my ear. can you repeat that please?" you questioned softly, shrugging off jens hand and doing your best to focus on the new tactics being explained to you, nodding along and giving martin a thumbs up once he finished.

noticing a few of the other girls murmuring to one another and flicking you the occasional glance, especially katie who was sat with alessia and jen. with a roll of your eyes you grabbed your water bottle, pushing up to your feet ignoring the way your head swam and your vision blurred a little as you did, storming out of the change room.

you downed the rest of your water, again rubbing your eyes as you dropped your bottle in the holder by the bench, stretching as the rest of the girls all filed back out of the tunnel.

you felt katie's eyes bore into the side of your head as you all returned to the pitch, ignoring the overwhelming urge to meet her gaze as you settled into position, wincing at the sound of the whistle as tottenham kicked off.

it was still deadlocked at 1-1 when the first round of substitutions were made, katie, beth and lia taken off for amanda, cloe and kyra. your head was thumping and it had started to ache behind the back of your eyes but you were determined to push on.

however your girlfriend had other ideas.

"martin ya gotta get her taken off man. look at her she's strugglin!" katie quietly begged the man, who advised he was unable to do anything as the subs had already been set and the tactics formed. katie continued to plead until eventually jonas stepped in, ordering her back to her seat with an agreement he'd keep an eye on you the next ten minutes.

he didn't need that long.

moments are katie took her seat, arms crossed and a thundering glare of discontent on her face, arsenal were awarded a corner by a poorly cleared ball from the spurs.

steph stood up to take it and you huddled in by the post, flanked by a defender on either side as it appeared almost the entire starting 22 crammed into the goal posts, half desperate to score and half desperate to defend.

you were jostled side to side, a few shoves into your back by the keeper as you did your best to hold your ground, the ringing in your ears returning as you blinked rapidly trying to clear it.

then you heard the crack of stephs boots meeting the ball, eyes widening as black dots blurred your vision and you jumped, the ball soaring closer and closer as chaos erupted in the box, a flurry of bodies pushing and shoving and jumping.

suddenly you felt a searing pain split open your head and your vision went black, your body thumping to the pitch with a sickening thud, the awful clang of where your forehead had bounced off the goal post echoing around the box.

the ball hit the back of the net off frida's head but nobody made a move to celebrate as a crowd formed around you, the medics racing over and clearing them as it took three of your team mates to hold katie back from sprinting off after them.

your eyes opened and you groaned as the light pierced through them, feeling it hit the back of your skull as something wet trickled into your mouth catching you off guard as you started to cough and splutter.

you heard someone ask if you could feel your toes and you held up a singular thumb, then came questions about your back and your neck and it was confirmed a stretcher wasn't needed.

very slowly you were helped to your feet, arms slung around the medics and eyes drooped shut as your body sagged limply, feeling julie press a cloth to your forehead as bodies moved around you, unable to look like anything more than colorful blobs as your head screamed for a reprise, the screaming of the crowd only making it worse.

within seconds the yelling was cut off, your body laid down on the physio table. without as much background noise and direct light you were able to open your eyes, blinking a few times as your ears stopped ringing and slowly you came a little more to.

"what? what did you say?" you slurred, hearing your name mentioned as your head was gently lifted up and someones body slotted beneath you, your head now resting in their lap.

"just stay quiet for a second, relax." you recognized the voice to be leahs, and could make out the words concussion, stitches and hospital. "no hospital!" you slurred out, trying to sit up as leah gently held you down, one hand on your chest as the other continued to press gauze on the large cut on your forehead.

"the ambulance is nearly here. i'm gonna go with you and so is julie, they need to clean and stitch your head kid, this is a nasty cut." leah warned softly as your vision came a little more to and you could make out her face.

not having anything left in you to argue you only nodded. "katie." you managed to get out as they helped you to your feet and paramedics entered, julie briefing them on what had happened.

"she's grabbing your bag and she'll meet us there."

~

you didn't remember much else after that, until suddenly you became aware of a pain in your neck and you shifted, trying to reach your fist up to punch your pillow into a more comfortable position.

"ah fuck!" you swore as your hand instead collided with the metal railing of the hospital bed, your eyes fluttering open as you blinked a few times. "hey hey hey, no sudden movements." leah shot up from the chair beside your bed as you tried to sit up.

"why the fuck am i in a hospital bed?" you groaned, laying back down with her help.

"you went headfirst into the goal post my girl, split your forehead right open top to tail and gave us all one hell of a scare." leah explained as you gently touched your forehead, wincing as you pressed lightly on the stitches and leah clicked her tongue at you and swatted your hand away.

"did we win?" you questioned, leah unable to help a smile from curling onto her lips as she shook your head. "yeah we won." leah chuckled as you let out a small sigh of relief, quickly noticing you and leah were alone.

"where's katie?" you asked, afraid of the answer as leah shot you a lot of pity and you shrank into yourself. "she's really pissed off with me, isn't she?" you sighed, squeezing your eyes closed regretful of your actions.

"she was here before, but she just needed a little space to cool off." leah smiled sympathetically as you nodded in understanding. "so i guess i'm in a bit of shit with everyone then." you mumbled quietly, looking up at the roof.

"as much as you infuriate me i could never stay mad at you for all that long, none of us could. but you are on bed rest for the next three days, your iron levels are severely low so you'll need an infusion, and you're not cleared to play for two weeks at least." leah recounted everything the doctor had told her earlier.

"doing my job for me!" speaking of, the man strode in with an amused smile toward leah and greeting you, stopping at the foot of your bed as leah moved your bed into a sitting position at his request.

he didn't waste any time, affirming what leah said was all correct and now you were awake you were okay to be discharged, but that you weren't to use any sort of electronics, drive a car or be around any bright light for at least twenty four hours.

you'd not need to come back in to have the stitches removed, the arsenal medics trained enough to do that themselves. but if you had any symptoms of concussion, vision issues or any dizziness you were to come right back to be assessed.

you only nodded, barely having the energy to speak as the doctor turned his attention onto leah instead. within the hour you were dressed into a pair of your own sweats and given your discharge papers, leahs arm over your shoulder guiding you out of the hospital and toward her car, slipping her sunglasses on over your eyes as you left.

"are you coming in?" you asked hesitantly as leah pulled up outside your home. "katie's there, i already called her and filled her in on everything." leah explained with a smile as you nodded, sighing deeply but thanking leah with a hug and kiss to the cheek, promising to look after yourself.

by the time you'd pulled away from the hug your girlfriend was already waiting on the front steps, having heard leahs car pull up in the driveway. her head was covered with a hoodie, arms crossed over her chest with an unreadable expression on her face.

you hadn't even opened the door before she was in front of you, helping you out wordlessly as your body sagged into hers, the pain medication and lack of sleep all hitting you like a truck as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

"i'm so sorry." you managed out quietly as the two of you entered your home, katie closing the door quietly after you. "stop." she responded softly, and your body filled with relief as she wrapped you in a tight tight hug.

"i was so fucken scared." you heard the irishwoman whisper, vulnerability leaking from her tone as she exhaled shakily. "i'm so sorry, i should have listened to you." you admitted, moving to look up at her, your heart breaking at the fear in her eyes.

"i should have spoke with you before going to the trainers. but right now you need to rest baby girl." she smiled, placing a tender kiss to your puckered lips.

you let out a small laugh as her hands hooked under your thighs, hoisting you up and into her arms as your legs wrapped around her waist. "hold on tight spidermonkey." she teased as your head fell to her shoulder with a sigh.

"i wish i never made you watch twilight."

"close your eyes please baby." katie instructed as you arrived to your bedroom, door firmly closed as you didn't bother to argue, eyes slipping shut as you heard the doorknob click and squeak open.

"keep em closed till i say so." you felt her lower your body into bed, kissing your forehead beside your stitches softly as you nodded. you heard her thump and move around the room for a few moments before you felt her slip into bed beside you.

"open darlin."

you did so and your breath caught in your throat as your eyes landed on the roof. "oh baby." you managed out, tears welling up in your eyes.

"i know counting sheep doesn't help, but i thought maybe these might be a little easier." katie whispered, tugging your body into hers as you stared up at the small glow in the dark galaxy of stars now stuck all over your roof.

"how did you even...." "got a lot of helpin hands." "it's perfect katie baby, thank you."

you turned and pressed your lips to hers, your girlfriend gently pushing you away with a sorry smile. "doctors orders." she explained and you nodded with a small sigh, katie ducking down and stealing one more kiss.

"please go to sleep gorgeous, for as long as you need. i'll be right here the entire time." the brunette promised, having already drawn your blinds and blocked out all possible light she could.

you didn't have it in you to even say another word, her arms wrapped securely around you and hands playing with your hair pulling you into a deep cocoon of comfort.

soft nothings were mumbled into your forehead as katies lips lingered there, careful of your stitches. the gentle hum of her voice lulled you into a dreamless sleep, the pain medication taking off the edge and allowing you to properly rest.

and it was safe to say there wasn't a single night before a match you spent alone anymore.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔, 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎!

⟢ lily evans x fem!reader

⟢ summary: lily evans is haunted by memories from years ago before she started dating james potter and before you left her life. amid feelings of guilt, regret, and a shocking discovery, she finds herself on your doorstep . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 5.1k

⟢ warnings/tags: reader has a bad relationship with family (implied homophobia), lily struggles with her sexuality, loosely based on the song it's named after, angsty but gets a little fluffy, second chance trope, will have another part, gave up on proofreading

⟢ masterlist

note: pls leave feedback if you have it regarding this fic being told mostly from lily's pov but awkwardly still in second person... since i was writing for fun for a while without the intention to post, i found myself focusing on the characters rather than the reader. do we like it or do we want more reader centric stuff? xo ty

Lily Evans has grown accustomed to restless nights. It started when she moved in with her boyfriend. She likes to blame the insomnia on their new flat. Some days it's the whistling radiators or the bed being too hard or the noise of their upstairs neighbours staying up late. 

James, being a sweetheart who inherited a knack for potions from his father, brews his girlfriend a supply of Dreamless Sleep Potion every week. Lily takes three of the seven potions, the rest finding refuge down the drain. She feels terrible about the waste but she finds that coming in and out of dreams all night is better than a good nights rest without them. 

She could simply tell James that she likes to dream. But there was the problem of James absolutely brewing a different sleep potion for her that would likely require more work and less accessible ingredients. Plus, to announce her fondness of her dreams would mean facing why she adores them so much. Because when Lily finds herself naturally dozing off, memories of you come flooding in. 

It was the first warm day of the season. The snow had finally melted away and signs of life crept back into the earth. 

It was midday. Was it the weekend or was she skipping class? She couldn’t remember. All she knew is that she was laying in the grass, staring up at a dogwood tree that was starting to get some life back, with her head resting someplace soft. Your lap. 

Your hands were in her hair, braiding and unbraiding small strands over and over again. Lily closed her eyes. 

“What’s going on in that pretty mind of yours, Flower?” Your voice was treat for her ears, soft and gentle like your touch. 

Lily’s eyes fluttered open to meet yours. You looked radiant. Beams of sunlight filtered through the tree branches and traced your silhouette. The wind was tame, but it made your hair wisp off to the right, some stray strands dancing across your forehead and cheeks. 

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Lily replied, “Isn’t that beautiful?”

“Relaxed?” You mused.

“Very,” Lily said, leaning into your touch as you buried your hand in her red locks, your thumb tracing a braid you left there.

“This is nice.” she sighed happily.

“I told you so,” you teased, “This is much better than hiding in some dark corner.”

“I hate when you say that.” Lily groaned playfully. 

“And I love saying it.” You grinned as you poked Lily in her side where you knew she was ticklish. 

Lily yelped and writhed away as she laughed. You surrendered quickly, not wanting to be the cause of her leaving your lap. 

After you both settled down, Lily closed her eyes again and whispered, “I wish it could be like this forever.”

“It could,” you said softly. 

Suddenly, Lily felt very cold.

Lily stirs. A sliver of soft light is shining through a gap in the curtains, signaling the impending morning. She tosses and turns for a while, pleading with the universe to send her back. 

When she flops onto her right side she finds James facing her. Pretty eyelashes lay across his cheeks as he peacefully sleeps. Something about the sight makes Lily’s heart race. She wishes it meant what she told herself it did, but she couldn’t ignore the pit in her stomach that came along with it. 

Lily turns onto her back as she brings her hands over her eyes. The weight of anxiety and self-loathing begins to settle in. She wants to think of anything, anything at all please, that will distract her. Her mind drifts back to you.

At ease, she snoozes off again. But not all of Lily’s dreams are happy ones. 

Lily finds herself back under the same tree, which was now in full bloom. Birds were chirping on the branches above. 

“Lily, I just-,” your expression was one of pure desperation.

“Just what?” Lily snapped. She had never been so vicious in her life. “You embarrassed me.”

You shake your head helplessly, “Embarrassed you?”

“You can’t act like that in front of my friends! They’re going to get the wrong idea.” As angry as she was, she kept her callous voice hushed. 

“Remus and Sirius? Seriously? They’re dating, Lily. They’re not about to judge you for being-"

“Stop!” Lily shrieked, looking around ferociously as if someone might overhear, but you two were completely alone, “It’s not about that! I’m not… I am just not.”

“Then what do you call what’s happening between us?” you asked bitterly. 

Lily’s green eyes went wide. “What’s happening between us is nothing. We’re just- just friends.”

“No. Remus, Sirius. They’re your friends. James, Mary, and Marlene are your friends. You'd be seen in public with all of them! But me? I’m not your friend.” You swallowed hard, willing the tears to stay at bay, “I thought I was more than that to you. Turns out I’m nothing.”

Lily sucked her lower lip in between her teeth. “That’s not true,” she said. 

“You only ever see me by this stupid tree at the edge of Hogwarts’ property! Or in a deserted classroom. Or in the back of the library only at times no one else would ever be there.” You spat the words like they were poison and your trembling voice rose with every syllable. 

“Please lower your voice!” Lily pleaded. The castle was far away, but close enough to see students as tiny specks leaving its’ doors. For Lily, that was too close. 

You released a dry, bitter laugh, “You see? I’m nothing but your little secret.” 

Lily looked distraught trying to come up with the right thing to say. “Isn’t that what’s fun about us?” she asked. 

You sucked in a sharp breath. For a while you just stared at Lily. Each passing second, she became more unrecognizable. 

“No. Not for me. I know who I am Lily. I’m not going to keep pretending that I’m someone else.” You said it like an accusation. 

“I’m not pretending,” she said so genuinely you couldn’t help but feel sad for her. But that didn’t cancel out your anger. 

“You can’t run away from yourself forever, Lily. If you try, you’re going to wake up one day and hate the life you’ve built. Good luck with that.” 

Lily wakes up and the back of her neck is clammy. She remembers that day clearly. For a long time, she would only acknowledge it as the day she agreed to go on a date with James. 

Speaking of, James enters the bedroom with two freshly brewed cups of tea in hand. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” James’ beaming smile fades when he meets Lily’s eyes as he enters their shared bedroom, “The potion’s not working well?”

Lily reaches for a hand mirror that lays on her bedside table. When she sees herself, she’s met with puffy dark circles, bloodshot eyes, and sickly pale cheeks. 

Lily places the mirror down in her lap. When she meets James’ eyes again, she finds herself at a loss for words. 

The look on James face induces agony in Lily. James Potter is not meant to be sad—he’s probably the most cheerful person Lily has ever known. But today he stood before her with forlorn in his eyes. 

James approaches Lily’s bedside and after setting the tea down, he cups one side of her face with a warm hand. He lightly brushes her cheek with his thumb as he says, “Maybe I’m brewing the potion incorrectly. I should owl my dad and ask for advice.”

“No!” Lily blurts. 

Oh, Merlin, she thinks as guilt starts to chew away at her. James is absolutely devastated because he thinks he’s failed at helping her. Lily feels sick for doing this to him.

“It’s not your fault,” she insists, “It’s… surely a fluke. I slept rather well the night before, remember?”

James looks like he’s considering Lily’s words. “Yeah, yeah, alright. Maybe it went sour. When I’m off for a break at work, I’ll try to research proper storage methods for sleep potions.”

Lily wants to insist that he just enjoy his break, but she relents. She feels terrible about it, but if there's one thing about James Potter, it's that he will work endlessly to find a solution to his friends' problems. After all, he did become an unregistered animagus as a teen to ease Remus’ pain, and that was no small feat. 

Lily can’t help but think to herself that she doesn’t deserve his big heart. 

Throughout the day, she tries to keep her mind off of James and sleeping potions and dreams about her past. At work, she is able to keep herself fairly busy. But when she goes on her break, she sits miserably staring at the wall, thinking about James trying to solve a nonexistent problem through his own break. 

Lily decides to return to work ten minutes early and she is met with a stack of new tasks. At the moment, she's probably the only one in the office who's happy to be overworked.

Work is able to occupy her thoughts for the rest of the day. Even on her way home, she recounts the work that she was able to complete and considers plans for the work she has left. 

She barely even notices the emptiness of the flat when she arrives, drafting a letter she needs to send to her boss in her mind. She doesn’t come back to the present until she sees a note on James’ bedside table. 

She frowns slightly and brings the parchment close to read James’ scribble. 

Visiting the library to read up on sleep potions. Be back soon.

Love, James

Great. Instead of relaxing after a full day of work, he’s at the library doing research as if they’re back at school and a potions essay is due tomorrow. 

In a fit of despair, Lily crumples up the note and throws it aside. In the heat of the moment, she carelessly bumps her fist into James’ plant. 

It’s a wretched fake plant that Lily hates. She recalls asking James for days to buy a real plant, promising to take care of it for him. But James claimed the artificial monstrosity was his most prized possession and begged her to leave it, so eventually she did. 

She worries that she’s broken the awful thing, but as she moves to clean it up, something more pressing replaces that concern. 

The plant is fine, anyway. The ceramic vase survived the fall, but the plant had popped out. It seems that the fake dirt that the waxy leaves were glued to was only a thin disk. And when it came free of the vase, something else came tumbling out as well. A little wooden box, the sight of which made Lily’s stomach turn. 

Lily feels like she’s moving through gelatin as she bends down towards the box. With trembling fingers, she picks it up like it's a bomb that could go off if she makes any sudden moves.

Oh, so carefully, Lily fiddles with its latch and slowly flips it open. 

Lily’s world comes crashing down as she stands face to face with the most beautiful engagement ring she’s ever seen. 

The golden band has an intricate botanical design. Leafy vines interlace dazzling emeralds and every detail complements a striking diamond set in a beaded frame. 

James surely dipped into the Potters' fortune for this. Whilst he prefers to live by his own means where he can, he is also not one to spare any expenses for something so momentous.

Lily doesn’t know how long she stood frozen, staring at the ring resting on its velvet bed. This is everything she's always told herself she wants yet standing there with the ring in hand, she didn’t want it at all. The contradicting emotions have seemingly short circuited her. 

Eventually, she snaps out of her trance at the sound of a holler. 

“Lilypad! I’m home!” 

Panic sets in as Lily scrambles to hide her discovery. She snaps the box closed and nearly dives for the ceramic vase that still lies on the floor. 

The sound of James’ footsteps are like a threat as she plops the vase back on the table and sets the box inside. 

“Lily?” James calls as she is trying to force the plant back into the ceramic pot. 

With a final ‘pop’ the brown disk finds its home and Lily has just enough time to whip her body towards to door before James enters. 

James’ eyes dart around the room, looking for anything that could be astray. 

“Everything okay?” James asks when he doesn’t find anything obviously wrong. 

“Yeah!” Lily says despite feeling like she can’t breathe. 

James studies his girlfriend’s flushed face, “Are you sure? You look-“

“I have to go!” Lily blurts out. She’s suddenly racing around the room, collecting her keys and sliding her shoes back on. 

Confusion floods James’ expression, “What? Go where?”

Lily waves her hand in the air as if it doesn’t matter, collecting her purse and flying out the door. 

James calls after her, “Wait, Lil-"

Lily doesn't wait to hear what he has to say as she makes a rash decision to apparate away. Her destination? For reasons Lily cannot explain nor understand, your doorstep. It was the first place she thought of and she doesn't have the slightest clue as to why—she’d never even been here before. She only knows the address from the exchange of Christmas gifts between you two one winter.

As soon as you turned 17, you moved out of your parent’s house even though you were still at Hogwarts. You had told Lily that you couldn’t even bear one last holiday with them, so that winter you found this place. 

It was a charming little townhouse in London. Lily remembers that you disliked the plain exterior, but the vivid teal door made up for it. 

The place was considerably nicer than Lily’s flat. She always wondered how you were able to afford it, but she suspected that your parents might have ‘misplaced’ some money before you moved out. And from what Lily has heard, you had secured a job right out of school. 

Lily feels ridiculous. She doesn't even know if you still live here. She doesn't even know if she wants to see you. More importantly, she fears that you don’t want to see her. 

She thinks she should leave, but she feels glued in place as she takes in the exterior to the home and she realizes that it must still be yours. You have two giant potted plants on your doorstep that look well taken care of. They stand on either side of a doormat that has simple black writing reading "welcome". You still have Christmas lights up and a wreath hanging on your door despite the holiday being a few months ago.

Lily doesn't mean to look through your windows, but one of them has the curtains drawn. She can see a cozy looking room inside. Lily tries to decipher what the little trinkets on your windowsill are. Little crystal figurines, perhaps? A jade elephant, a rose quartz cat, a lapis hippogriff, and one more. The stone was orange, or maybe red, it's hard to tell. Lily wonders if it's red jasper. No, it's not that red. Maybe carnelian?

"Lily?" A voice interrupts her train of thought.

Lily tenses. She knows exactly who that gentle voice belongs to. She turns around like a machine that desperately needs oiling—stiffly and slowly.

You suck in a sharp breath when you see that it really is her. "What are you doing here?" you ask softly.

Lily is unable to speak when she sees you. After only seeing you in her dreams for so long, this moment feels surreal.

"Are you alright?" you question, getting more worried the longer she takes to respond. Lily is the last person you expected to see when you noticed someone standing in front of your house during your walk up the street.

"Yeah I- I'm sorry. I don't know why I-" Lily shakes her head, "I was apparating and it was the first address that came to mind for some reason. I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't be here."

You were a bit scared by the way she was acting. "Lily, it's freezing out here," you say, "Why don't you come inside?"

Lily's eyes widen and she opens her mouth to protest but you don't give her the chance.

"It's fine. I promise." Your keys jingle in your hand as you pass Lily to unlock your door.

Lily follows you inside timidly. You lead her to the drawing room that she had seen through the window. You insist that Lily takes a seat as you close the room's french doors, which seems like a difficult feat. You heave the doors and some dust floats into the air. It seems like they haven't been closed in a long time.

"Sorry," you strain as you finally get the doors moving, "I don't want to wake Cami. They work the night shift, so, y'know?"

"Cami..." Lily repeats. She doesn't know why it shocks her that you've met someone, and it makes her feel worse for being here.

"Yeah," you wave your hand around like the words are lost from your tongue, "my-"

"No, yeah, of course." Lily says quickly. She tries to change the subject. "This is a nice place."

"Oh yeah, and having someone to split the rent with was long overdue," you joke.

With the doors finally closed, you turn around with a huff and place your hands on your hips. You finally have a moment to look at Lily.

She looks almost the same, but she's missing a certain fire in her eyes that she always had back when you knew her. She still had that beautiful hair that you loved. It looked just as soft. And did she have less freckles somehow? No, must just be from the lack of sun in the winter months. The last time you saw her she was sun-kissed since it was nearly summertime.

You bite your lip, feeling stupid for just staring at her while she sits distraught on your sofa.

"I should've offered you tea by now," you blurt out. You look over your shoulders at the heavy doors and hold back a sigh.

"I'm alright, no worries, really," Lily assures you.

Your eyes dart down to her trembling hands. "At least let me start a fire, yeah?"

Lily sits as still a statue, her spine rigid like she's afraid to relax in your home. She's uncomfortably aware that she is here unexpectedly, extremely unexpectedly.

She watches as you get a fire going. You have to move some firewood into the fireplace before you can cast a spell to light it.

You look different from the person Lily sees in her memories. The way you carry yourself has a certain confidence that wasn't there before. There's also physical differences. You have a new piercing, you changed the way you dress, and most shockingly to Lily—

"You cut your hair." she says thoughtfully.

"What?" Your hand reaches up to touch your hair as you move to sit on an armchair near the couch, "Oh, I suppose so, yes. I started cutting it this way about a year and a half ago to be honest."

This serves as a reminder to Lily that it has been a very long time since you were in her life. It made her being here feel impossibly more uncomfortable. Any more discomfort and Lily would start choking on it.

"Stop worrying," you chastise, "I don't mind that you're here."

All these years later and you can still tell what she's thinking by her expression.

"It is odd, though, isn't it?" Lily keeps worrying anyway, but you really do mean it. Sure, maybe a couple years ago you would have told her to go away and never come back, but you were angrier at her and angrier at the world when you were young.

You sway your head side to side, acting like you're weighing out the answer. A small smile threatens to overtake Lily's lips.

Quite chuckles emit from your mouth as your head stills, "I'll admit it's unexpected."

"Sorry."

You offer her a gentle smile as if to say it's okay. A moment passes while you gain the courage to ask her what's going on with her.

"Are you gonna tell me what brought you here?" you ask tentatively.

Images of the engagement ring flash in Lily's mind, but that's the last thing she wants to talk about.

"I've been thinking about you." Lily says. Stupid, she thinks. That topic isn't exactly much better for her. "Not like that! I mean I- I've just been feeling so... Well, I've been thinking about my past." Lily struggles to find the words to make her point, "And the mistakes I've made... one of them being you."

"Ouch." you say playfully.

"That is not what I mean!" Lily panics.

"Just joking, Lils, I get it." The nickname slips out, but seemingly goes unnoticed.

"You do?" she asks, sounding a little scared.

A sad expression overtakes your features and Lily slumps back into the sofa in response.

“You can say it.” she says shamefully.

“Say what?” you ask as you draw your eyebrows together.

“You told me so. I know how much you loved saying it. So go ahead, because I officially hate my life." Lily's head tips back and lands on the cushions behind her miserably.

"You don't mean that." You feel a piece of your heart break for her, along with a twinge of guilt.

"Why shouldn’t I? When I look at my boyfriend the only thing I feel is guilt." Lily's head tips back up to look at you again. "I can’t sleep, I can’t get a moment of peace unless I’m mind numbingly busy. I-” Lily trails off, exasperated. The only thing she leaves out of her rant is why she feels this way. She feels bitter about the fact that she still can’t even say it.

You see the turmoil in her stormy eyes and would give anything to make her feel better, even just for a moment.

“Everyone takes their own time, you know?” You tread lightly because she hasn’t technically confirmed the reason for her turmoil. “My sister, she- uh, she just came out to me,” you half expect Lily to turn on you like she did that day under the dogwood tree, but she doesn’t flinch, “and she’s almost forty.” You joke a little, lightening up the conversation. Your sister was actually in her mid thirties but sometimes even estrangement doesn’t seem to take away the instinctual need to poke fun at your siblings.

Lily remembers the way you talked about your sister. Your relationship was like her and Petunia’s, but it seemed to be worse. “Your sister?”

“Yeah, she sent an owl. Apologized for the way they all treated me. She was going through her own stuff and she was scared, I get it, but… still hurts, y’know?”

There was a lull in the conversation as Lily isn’t sure what to say.

“She asked to see me” you admit suddenly.

“Will you?”

“I don’t know.” you say wistfully, “It’s hard to forgive sometimes. Especially people who’ve said such cruel things.”

Lily sinks into the sofa even more, assuming your hinting to her, but then—

“I’m sorry.”

“What!?” Lily gapes, “What could you possibly be sorry for?”

You chew the inside of your cheek. “The last thing I ever said to you was too harsh. I never should’ve told you that you’d hate your life. Now here you are saying it’s true… I feel like I planted seeds in your mind-”

“No,” Lily interrupts, “You didn’t do anything wrong. If you must hear it, I accept your apology, but you were rightfully angry with me. And we were just kids!" A familiar fire flashes in Lily's eyes for just a second as she's consumed by an urgency to ease your feelings of remorse. "Please don’t feel guilty about that when what I did was so much worse. I was only thinking about my own feelings and I forgot about yours. I treated you like a dirty secret when you were probably the best person in my life back then. I’m the one who's sorry. I’m so sorry.” Lily sounds desperate for you to hear her apology by the time she finishes.

You didn’t know how much you needed to hear that. At some point you had decided not to let the situation with Lily hurt you anymore. You rationalized that it wasn’t about you—She was on her own path to discovery and you just happened to get wrapped up in it. So you let yourself heal, and you let yourself forgive Lily. But there was a small shrivel of anger still stowed away in your heart and you can finally feel it as it dissipates.

“I accept your apology too,” you rasp.

Lily lets the relief wash over her. She has been carrying the guilt for how she treated you for so long. And as the years went by and she reflected on her actions, it only grew worse. Finally being able to apologize and actually hearing that you accept it lifts a weight off of her shoulders that she’s forgotten what it feels like to live without. It’s almost disorienting.

“I think now’s a good time for that tea,” you say with a shaky breath and pad out of the room, closing the french doors behind you.

A sweet silence settles over the room as Lily sits alone. She takes the free time to absorb her surroundings. You’ve filled your drawing room with color and life. Artwork and portraits decorate the vibrant walls. And you have so many beautiful plants. Some hang by the windows and other small ones are scattered across the different surfaces in the room.

She wonders how much of this room is you, and how much of it is Cami. She tries to cast the stupid though aside, but she can't help noticing two stockings from Christmas still hanging on the fireplace's mantle. One has a glitter glue snowman on it, along with your sparkly initial. The other has candy canes and poorly drawn snowflakes under the letter ‘C’.

She thinks of you crafting the stockings and makes up the scene in her mind. You and Cami wrapped up in blankets on a snowy day, laughing at the juvenile designs as you eat Christmas cookies. The idea warms her heart and, for some reason, makes her sad at the same time.

Despite the weird mixed feelings, Lily feels at peace here. You seem to have built a happy life in this house and Lily finds herself wishing to be apart of it. She hopes today can be the door back into your life, but part of her fears it might be the conclusion to your story.

Eventually, you return with tea. Lily thanks you and takes a sip. It's perfect, and she realizes you remember the way she likes it.

The room remains silent even though you are back. Lily’s eyes drift around the room as she wracks her brain for something to say. With each passing second she gets more and more nervous that you’ll realize you don’t have anything more to talk about you’ll say goodbye forever.

Meanwhile, you’re watching her eyes move around the room and wonder what she’s thinking. You see her eyes falter on your record player. An idea suddenly emerges, and you get up to play a song.

It takes an awkward moment, but once it’s on you hear a small gasp.

“This was my favorite song.”

“Yeah, I know.” You bite your lip, “Was?”

Lily considers it for a moment, then corrects herself, “Is.”

“Yeah, it’s still mine too.” You begin to approach the sofa Lily is sitting on. “Do you remember when we charmed your cassette player to play this song?”

Lily starts laughing, “And we couldn’t get the bloody thing to shut up."

“And we tossed it in the Black Lake afterwards! That was our grand solution?”

Lily laughs harder, “My mum was so cross with me for that. ‘How do you misplace something like that!’ she asked me.”

“You told her you lost it? That thing was so clunky,” you snort.

“Why do you think she didn’t believe me?” Lily shook her head at her past self, “Oh! And do remember the time with the baby owl?”

“Yes!”

The world disappears around you both as you reminisce on the good times. From rescuing wild baby owls that you wrongly assumed were of the magical sort to angering the house elves after sneaking into their kitchen, you two had gotten yourselves into a lot of sticky situations back at school.

Lily loses track of time as you recount story after story, scooting closer and closer to each other on the sofa as you do.

The chimes of your blue grandfather clock suddenly catches Lily’s attention.

“Is it that late already?” Guilt sets in for how she left James, who must be worried sick.

You’re also taken aback by how long you’d been talking. You’ve forgotten how easy it was with Lily.

“I have to go,” Lily sounds panicked as she stands up.

“Oh, of course,” you stand with her, “let me walk you out.”

You lead her the way you came hours ago and step outside with her.

“It was, uh, nice seeing you, Lily.” You rock back and forth on your heels nervously. When you realize what you’re doing, you still yourself, but now you can’t stop wondering if you’re too still.

Lily smiles warmly, “I’m glad I ended up on your doorstep, even if it was a bit impromptu,” Lily rubs the back of her neck sheepishly, “Thank you for inviting me in.”

You give her a final nod and she makes her way down your front steps. You watch as she pauses at the bottom. She turns back.

"Can I see you again?" Lily knows she's being bold but she just can't help herself. She's only had you in dreams for so long. She doesn't want to let go of you as easily this time.

Your lips part, and you find yourself saying, “Yeah. That’d be… that’d be nice.”

Lily smiles for a moment, then apparates away. For a minute you stand alone in the cold, staring at the space she just occupied. Then, you go back inside to wash the teacups. You hate washing dishes, but you can’t help but smile through it.

[plasticfangtastic]

Dairy Girl-- Part 3

A Homelander x F!Reader fic

A/N: 1more part to go, I've be going on a 4 day trip on wed so I should post the final part next wk, thanks everybody for reading here is part 2 (there's a link for part 1 there)

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

tags: child death mention, depressive, dark, kidnapping, stocklhom syndrome, HL tw.

word count: 4.4K

Part 3-- Fields

Months.

You’ve been here for months.

You aren’t quite certain of the timeframe but you kept track of the full moon, how often things faded and re-emerged, you’re sure half a year of your life has vanished slower than ever before, for weeks you find yourself holding on, now you aren’t sure why? This body of yours grows heavier around his arms as you sat there in that massive corner booth listening, as he squeezed your jacket as if to remind you he had a hold on you… or to make sure you were okay, you hoped.

Several months have passed and you can’t help but wonder how you ended up in this Chinese restaurant having dinner with your captor.

Homelander’s visitation continued to be more sporadic, your time seems of less importance these days, you find yourself painfully alone, no matter how pretty the tapestry, how interesting the films have become, how delicious the food is or how the forced expansion of your music taste as they feed you an eclectic collection from japanese city pop to medieval folk rock albums changed the fact that you were alone. It had been endless weeks since you last saw a human being beside Homelander.

You stared at that steel door, its presence tempting you, mocking you, insulting you.

You pressed aimlessly at the panel hoping it would break or force somebody to emerge to tell you off– just the sound of a live human would be enough to fill this emptiness inside you even if it was for a short burst. The library elevator had been locked and no amount of pulling would get it to break, your voice, your sole company, birds would come and sing ‘hello’ but as pretty as they were they flew away at the sight of you.

Everything was perpetually quiet.

At least when the sun still lingered.

At night you couldn’t even sleep this awfulness off, your brain trapped you in a different nightmare.

The only time when this house wasn’t submerged in silence was in your slumber.

Ghost lived here you’ve come to accept.

“Every night I have the same nightmares” you spoke to a squirrel one morning

Cries of a baby you can never find, as you wake up, dazed and exhausted you hear the faintest cry and all your mind has tried to do these past few weeks and months have been to move on but ghostly cries forever remind you of the emptiness left in your arms, ghost hoping to crush everything within you, but when the sun is out you tell yourself that your baby boy is gone, you accept it. 

Every night before bed you recite a fresh mantra ‘you’re okay now, that in the future perhaps you could finally become a mother, that the embers still burn inside you, your love is there but is not wrong to move on’ but your nightmares won’t let you move on from a pain you couldn’t forget.

You pray to whatever god you believed, or used to believe for dreamless slumber, each night the thought of sleep frightens you, making you wish for death for it was kinder.

The only peaceful slumber comes with a blond catch.

In your arms he’s both small and larger than life, light and heavy, his lips pursed on your sensitive skin, his quiet moans and mewls send shivers down your spine yet bring you an animalistic primal comfort that tap in a primitive part of your motherly brain, his scent fades and returns the next time reeking of oatmeal and chamomile, as your nose sinks on his hair and he wraps his naked hand around your waist itching to crawl higher, to hold your breast much like a real baby would you forget he is grown, picking his fingers and letting them hang on your own, in this times were you drift away from boredom– you sleep peacefully. Wondering if there was safety in this? The world’s most powerful man held against your bosom, nothing could hurt you here– not even the nightmares. Afraid of him you supposed.

Homelander looks up with glassed eyes, licking his lips as he pops your nipple out his mouth, blissed out, so happy it colors you with envy– that’s the only smile you know it's 100% genuine, you seen all his earlier movies it certainly been refined but his smile is disturbingly faux… convincingly sold, nevertheless as he nuzzles you and giggles softly into your chest that you learn what his truly looked like.

When was the last time you smiled like that? You wondered.

You hand caressed his face cleaning a loose drop off his chin.

“You want me to stay tonite?”

It’s been almost 2 weeks since he stayed more than a couple hours, you don’t know what to say, he still fills you with fear but as the afternoon glow colors the tapestry and the night creeps closer and closer you want that safety… just one night without nightmares.

“Please stay…”

Homelander smiles and squeezes your sides, forcing you into a hug, he begins talking and is not a conversation you can follow or wished to but is music nowadays– the sound of another person, it's the sweetest music you’d ever listened to, searing banalities into your eardrums, but its sweet… something to make you forget that by morning he’d be gone and you be left alone with nothing but ghosts and thoughts.

“Can we switch positions?” Your arm has grown numb under him.

He grumbles pouting like a child, but he’s happy to oblige, the TV plays quietly in the background you’re unsure how much longer the tape has, but he stares at you as he sits straight waiting for further instruction, while you fix the pillows.

“I just want to be the little spoon…”

Homelander eyes light up–literally. It doesn’t last long and his lips curl dropping on the bed with eager eyes, your grimace is internal but you crawl into padded arms.

“Promise me you won’t leave in the middle of the night…” you say so quietly, he stares at those pretty eyes of yours and those thick dark circles under your eyes allowing himself to caress your cheek– until morning…”

“Ryan is off on a camping trip with one of his buddies… I can stay the whole weekend.”

“Weekend?”

“It’s friday, Y/N.” He says as if that was obvious.

Your eyes open so wide it hurts your face, but you nod furiously, a part of you dies, whatever self-respect you had is fading as the only thought consuming you is that for at least 2 days you’ll have company.

“I’m surprised you let him go”

“I have a few men watching him from a distance, and I can fly and check up on him at any point” he says through gritted teeth.

“It’s nice that you trust him. Must make him feel like a big kid… My parents never let me do such things…”

“Why not?” He asks, watching you with genuine surprise as your body loses resistance, sinking into him.

“They worried too much… always sheltering me… watching over me…” You missed them, you missed a world of people, now those obnoxious actions of the past warm your heart but you don’t let it be seen– He’s lucky to have you.”

You stayed in his arms until the credits finished rolling.

“Kill the feed!” Homelander shouts startlingly you stiff, he waits in silence grinding his teeth, jumping out of the bed almsot throwing you off the mattress, once his cape unfastened he turns back to you– what? you think i'm gonna lay down all night in this?”

You just watched him as he moved around your room entering your closet as you shook off the scare, and procuring an oversized t-shirt grumbling to himself about ordering some loungewear, you watched him undress with your heart creeping up your throat, squeezing the duvet as your worst nightmares tease an entrance to reality, with each thud of his suit and clanking of gold your heart rate doubled in speed, he who had very much avoided touching most of you, could very much do so and you’d be powerless to stop him, he turns around throwing you a look of disbelief making you wonder if ‘mind-reading’ was a unpublicized skill of his.

Without his suit… he seemed more human than he had any right to be, his bright orange undies peeking under the old t-shirt with a pulled neck allowing you to see a handful of chest hairs creeping up, Homelander left you in the room heading out, his eyes examining that all cameras were in fact turn off and so were the microphones, stopping by a tacky painting of kittens in the hallway, tapping on the thick frame carefully.

“I was thinking I should have this place redecorated” He said loudly, his hand stroking the frame– bring it into the 21st century… What do you like– farmhouse chic… art deco? Altho your house was a mix-match of things.”

You jumped off the bed and followed him keeping distance as you tried to suppress your trembling hands.

“You’ve been to my house?”

“I was curious about you… you’ve been here 5 months and the doctors are surprised you haven’t… lost your mind.” He turns to you– altho you’ve been playing the music twice as loud as before”

“Is lonely in here…” You look away trying to figure out the best words you ought to say– you haven’t visited me in weeks”

“I told you. I’m busy– I have a movie… we are doing some re-shoots… the studio feels like they need a new direction and we needed a new post-credit scene so it ties up with The Deep’s next film and–” he bites his tongue– I should call… I’ll have a phone installed… but what can I do to make your stay here less lonesome.``

“Keep me company… at least downstairs I could see the other girls…” You look down– are they okay?”

“That whole thing has been shut down. No need for it to continue if I have you.” 

He didn’t expect to see that beam of light in your eyes, but then those lips of yours straightened for something sinister came into your mind.

“What happened to them?” Faces that were still fresh in your mind spoil– are they okay?”

“Who knows…” he shrugs with genuine indifference– oh don’t make that look! I didn’t make the order, I simply told them to close shop… I can find out if you want.”

Staring into his eyes for what could’ve been an eternity but you never answered, which seemed to please him, he stretched his hand asking for yours and in that darkened hallway he seemed to be its only shadow, you obeyed afraid of displeasing him punished with abandonment for another endless loop, his fingers are always so warm and soft around yours. 

“You don’t sleep very much do you? I used to sleep a lot when they left me alone… which wasn’t often” He squeezes your hand pulling you closer– you can talk to me, Y/N. I want to know…”

“You’ve been to my home… you should know why I don’t sleep much…” 

“I can’t… imagine what you’ve been thru… If I lost Ryan–”

“I accepted it. I think it just wasn’t my time or his time…” You cut him off– I don’t know ‘bout God’s plan or nuthin but I just accepted that maybe one day it be for me but not yet.”

Homelander gave you a half moon, glad to see how strong you’ve been, glad to know you could withstand his abuse… you continued to be a challenge.

That night you both laid in bed, cradling him in your arms watching him mumble loudly in his sleep, his eyes shifting wildly, you watch him fight in his nightmare as you thought of your own… of those women and the bottles, how your signatured had doomed them, you bit your lips and watched him until exhaustion ate you up.

Waking up with a kiss from the sun without ever experiencing a single nightmare, not even their faces haunt your sleep.

It made you ill to be so relieved.

He kept you company, watching movies and eating popcorn, lounging around forcing you to read books to him, you thought that this would all you two would do-- just lounge around and pretend you weren’t growing bored.

“Wanna go out for dinner?” 

Your ears perked up.

“I’ll go and tell them to get us some clothes, and we can go have dinner.”

“You mean outside?”

“Of course silly… you’ve been good, I think you deserve it.” He jumps off the couch, heading towards the metal door dragging his feet– you like chinese. I saw you had lots of take-out menus.”

“I would love to” You ran after him, hugging him– can we get Ice-cream too… afterwards?”

“I could always go for a milkshake.” He kissed your cheek– be a good girl and go get ready would ya?”

He faded into the other side, hearing those metal doors slide open filled you with joy, you had your chance, you were good, you did all that Homelander wanted of you, you listened to his endless ramblings and you gave him what he stole you for without complaint, and now he rewarded you, the gods had finally heard you.

This was your chance.

You would run to the cops, you would hide in the sewers, you would run until your feet were stumps if you had to but you would get out of here, away from him, away from his dollhouse.

You were so focused you didn't even register his sudden kiss until you started to undress in the bathroom, you touched your cheek wondering about why he'd done so.

You did as you were told and as your hair dried he came back bearing clothes from this century entering the bedroom as you stood covered with nothing but a towel, he came in an orange t-shirt and a navy jacket his sight on your face as if he had manners. It took you a few seconds to realize these were your clothes, washed and ironed, he threw them in the bed lingering for a few seconds before returning you some privacy.

“You look good” You smile feeling weird in your own clothes, nothing but a band t-shirt and your best jeans, he handed you a jacket that was definitely not yours but a matching one to his own– they told me there’s this bar you liked quite a bit”

“The Loose End?” you smiled, they knew you there, the bartender knew you by name, the regular waitress Liz knew you too, if he took you there you could find a way out– they’re cheap and the nachos are great… and they have live music every weekend.”

“It’s a date then.” 

For the first time you crossed those steel doors, those wall held a boring room, a set of desk littered here and there alongside filing cabinets, a young man in a lab coat handed Homelander something while you looked around everywhere this whole setup was nothing but a repurposed kitchen, a storage close, and the entry hall, two large windows let the light in allowing you to see the driveway, and more evergreen forest, there were no houses just road and bushes indeed this location was as desolated as initially suspected. Leaving through the front door you spotted a pair of bikes parked on the side, while the garage was closed. A random man dragged a trolley filled with peonies, your feet were trembling as you stepped on that welcome mat, the air was so chilly against your skin, so refreshing on cracking lips.

Grass… trees… clouds… nowhere to run, you looked at the bikes but never did you look for their keys five seconds ago.

“Are we getting an Uber?” You looked at him.

He took you by the waist, not giving you an answer before jumping straight into the heavens, there was a town to the east, a highway near it, before your words could leave your body, he pressed your face against his shoulder, it's a whistling sound singing in your ear as an insanely heavy weighted blanket slammed against you, this song kept playing cut abruptly by honking, your feet hit the ground and you could’ve sworn you’ve died he lets go of your head messin with your hair as you parted from this tight embrace, looking bemused.

“Am I alive?”

“There’s not a safer vehicle in the world than me.” He chuckles– you’re fine.”

Blinking hard you looked around and immediately recognized the street peeking from the end of the alleyway, your old apartment was 20 minutes from this place, you started moving without him.

Your neck snapped back as he took your arm, forcing you still.

“The restaurant is that way.”

He held your arm so tight your fingers tingle from numbness, interlocking elbows as he forced you into the street, to passerbys you were just another nameless couple, nobody gave you guys a second look, the afternoon light was beginning to fade behind tall buildings, you look at strangers pleading for them to notice something was off only to meet discomfort and indifference, people minded their business and in the busy street you two failed to stand out, you knew every street and in your silence you hoped to see familiar faces but nothing but strangers surrounded you both.

Both stopping at the entrance of a chinese restaurant, you’re sure you’d ordered from here before, the place is loud and there’s a TV set on the sports channel, it smells of fried rice and oil and you can hear the cook shouting in cantonese, he never lets you speak and the waitress is too busy talking to her coworker to care just telling you to sit anywhere you like.

He sits you in a booth on the corner away from the window almost hidden but able to see a good chunk of the people, the tv plays in the back but you can’t see it, your face is obscured by a beam, the more you look at the decour it strikes you as cheap and busy, lights dim and there wasn’t many people inside no doubt he picked this place for a reason.

“I feel like egg rolls and sweet and sour pork… you want noodles or rice?”

“Rice… with chicken… and…” You glance at the menu– scallion pancakes…”

Time moves like a dream, you count the exits, the number of waitresses, you hear the phone used for take-out orders but from your spot you can’t see the phone, you see the paper sign saying ‘toilet’ which could lead to an unseen exit, maybe into the kitchen, but as the entree arrived you knew you couldn’t run to your old home, you could run to the nearest metro station take the train anywhere, the direction made no difference you just had to find a cop… anything to save you.

As you force yourself to chew it dawns on you how Homelander has not spoken, turning to see him and he has a dry smile in his lips, his sight focused on the table on the furthest end of the room, the party grew louder you assumed they caught his attention annoyed by their presence or something in that vein.

Dishware clank and people spoke and baseball played but his attention was on them alone, you swore you could’ve run and he wouldn’t notice.

“Are you okay?” You spoke with the meekest tone you could muster– is there something wrong with the food?”

He scoots in his seat moving closer to the edge of table, this boot could’ve sat a party of five with ease so he left you with a lot of space and for a moment you felt as if he was about to just walk out but instead he looked at the empty spot then jerked his head towards the direction of the party.

“Is there a friend of yours there…?” You try to remain bubbly, finding his demeanor uneasy.

Following him you take his former spot but he doesn’t leave the boot, and then you see it.

The big thing he was staring at.

She was so thin that it looked bigger than it should, she was a tiny frail thing and the bump protruded out of her stomach violently. She sat back down, her grin so big and her laugh so chirpy as she rejoined the group.

The group too engrossed in each other to notice… to notice the crying woman on the other side of the dimly lit restaurant.

He seemed the same, his hair was the same, his beard was the same, his shirt was the one you bought him last christmas and he looked… happy… happy as he kissed this woman you’ve never seen, holding her hand, caressing her stomach, she didn’t need a name for you to despise what she meant, there it was your ex-husband who shouted at you about not being ready to be a father, your ex who showed up late to the funeral and didn’t stick around to comfort you, who never made it to the hospital visits more than twice, here he was happy.

Looking at a young thing carrying the baby he did want.

Just like he never looked at you.

“Am so happy you’re having a little girl!” The older woman who sat across from him said– after everything that happened I'm just elated for you Eric.”

You heard your mother’s voice with so much clarity.

“After Y/N I never thought I would find somebody but I think she would’ve been happy for us. I’m just glad you guys are doing okay after everything…”

“It’s hard but you are still family and we can be happy for you and your sweet little girl”

You watched him comfort your mother, the way he talked about you as if he meant it.

When did he ever mean it? Did he find remorse in his heart after you were gone or was it to brush away the accusations.

‘Who would you run to?’ that voice in your head asked, your family was right there, your dad, your mom, a mutual friend of you both, your ex– they were all there but they didn’t see you, the more you focused on their words, the way they mentioned your name as if it made them feel icky.

“I was thinking of naming her after Y/N, I know she meant a lot to Eric and had we not met at that support group–

You ran off the booth, rushing to the bathroom, you’re sure somebody looked at you as the plates rattled, Homelander gave you a glance but didn’t follow you.

Slamming the door behind you, in that ugly cramped bathroom you screamed into your knees, every fiber of your body recoiled, tightening around your chest, you stayed there until your own sobs hurt your throat and your eyes itched from salt.

Staring at your swollen eyes and red nose you washed away what you could, nausea still lingered robbing you off your appetite.

The door opened and there was no red, white and blue suited supe, just a hall with faded pictures and a storage closet, walking not knowing what to find, not wanting to be seen.

He was still in the booth, happily waiting on you with a bag of leftovers propped on the table.

“Let’s go home…” You whispered, your throat hoarse.

“Home? Where is that?” he grins

“Home… take me home… please…”

He stares at the party who are now sharing their final drinks and readying to leave.

You sit on the edge pushing him into the booth, forcing him to pay attention to you and not those behind, maybe it was because he was Homelander that you kissed him, that you had the attention of a more enviable man than Eric ever was that you kissed him in front of him  and your family, maybe it was because it felt good, his thin lips soft and delicate against yours, it was  quick thing, his shock was palpable in the nervousness of his kiss was cute, but it felt good… for once something felt good again.

“Let’s go Homelander… I don’t wanna be here anymore…”

His lips pressed against your cheek before lifting himself, making sure to cover your sight as you both left the building turning away from the window as the party began to gather their things, he stopped for a second after walking for a few minutes.

“I just need to text Ashley something before I forget… work stuff” You didn’t care.

He typed slowly with his index instead of his thumbs which made you cringe a little.

“All good. You sure you don’t wanna go watch a gig, we don’t have to go back home.” He said softly.

“My tits hurt.” His eyes light up at the lie– unless you wanna have a sippy in the toilets before the show stars to help me out here”

“... I… I do…” 

If he blushed any harder he’d be a stop light, you smiled unable to stop chuckling at his stupid face.

“Didn’t peg you for the kind of guy to get freaky in the bathroom of a dingy bar… guess America’s son does have a real kinky side to him.”

“You have no idea darling… do you have a kinky side perhaps?”

“Fuck me.” Her stomach popped into your head, his hand caressing her bulge played on loop, his disgusting smile, all of him played all around you, memories of his touch burnt your skin, everybody had his disgusting mug on their faces– and find out.”

He took your hand and started walking faster, throwing away the bag of takeout into the lap of the first homeless person he’d seen.

The woman looked at Eric as he said goodbye to your parents, her phone buzzed, turning around to hide her screen, a text message from with a receipt for 25,000 dollars deposited on her account, as well as a doctor’s appointment booking.

She signed with relief.

“Understood.” she texted back.

[just-jordie-things]

california - nanami kento

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 10k warnings: swearing, jjkverse trauma summary: nanami kento left jujutsu society behind years ago. (y/n) spent that time moving on, thinking she'd never see him again. then she stumbles across a letter that suggests otherwise... more info: slowburn friends to seperation to lovers, reader is annoyingly angsty being seperated from nanami tbh but who wouldn't be ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ i shouldn’t have done it but i read it in your letter // you said to a friend that you wished you were doing better //  i wanted to reach out but i never said a thing ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

On her good days, (y/n) didn’t think about her time as a student at Jujutsu Tech.  She was able to complete her assignments, help train a few of Gojo’s students, and complete her paperwork at a decent time, all before leaving for the day at a semi-decent time.

On her good nights she’d have a glass of wine after a simple dinner, take her time with her skincare routine before bed, and fall into a dreamless sleep, until her alarm inevitably woke her up to start it all over again.

A good day came once in a blue moon- and after a google search one night after a couple extra glasses of wine, she thinks a good day might rival the frequency of a blue moon.

Every task of every day seemed to go by in a hazy blur, and if you were to sit down and ask her how her day was, she’d struggle to answer the specifics of the question.

“Fine,” She shrugs back at Ieiri Shoko when she asks her one afternoon.  “Yours?” 

“You don’t look fine,” Shoko dodges the redirected question with her candid response.  “You look like you haven’t slept in ages” 

She’s not wrong, and (y/n) knows she doesn’t look great.  Getting an average of four hours of sleep each night, on top of having a highly physically demanding job, the body could only handle so much.  The bags under her eyes had bags, and since losing her only tube of chapstick, she hadn’t found the time to stop into the convenience store and pick up another one.

“That’s why you’re the doctor” (y/n) mumbled back.

She hadn’t sought out Shoko’s company, but she was the only one of her colleagues that she didn’t actively push away.  Even if the smoke from her cigarette made her the tiniest nauseous after quitting the habit years ago.  She was different from the others.  Not overbearing, and never too chatty.  If she was held at gunpoint and forced to answer, (y/n) would tell you that Shoko was the closest thing to a friend that she had.

Only at gunpoint, though.

“You ever thought about cashing in some vacation time?” Shoko muses.

She finally turns away from the burnt out sorcerer, leaning back against the outside wall of the infirmary and puffing on her cigarette.  (y/n) had stepped out for some fresh air- which really meant a break from Gojo pestering her while she did her reports- and just so happened to run into the old… friend.

“Nowhere I want to go” She answered lamely.  Shoko fights the urge to roll her eyes.

“Well some downtime would do you good.  Like a staycation, you know?” 

“Don’t think it’s in the cards, Sho,” (y/n) sighed, pushing off the wall and turning to head inside.  “Besides.  There’ll still be curses roaming around, won’t there?” She asks, glancing back at her, only to find the woman frowning.

One thing about Shoko? She didn’t express much.  Since their school days, she’d mastered holding a neutral face, never quite letting anyone know what she was thinking.  Maybe it was just the way she coped with everything.

“There’ll always be curses” Shoko replies before (y/n) could disappear back inside.  

She catches her just as she’s stepping over the threshold, freezing up when she speaks because even with how badly she wants to be done with the conversation, she can’t bring herself to shut Shoko out.  Not completely, anyways.  And not literally.

So she sighs, and doesn’t glance back at her when she forces more words out from between her teeth.

“Then I guess I’ll always be busy”

Shoko doesn’t say anything else before the door’s sliding shut and (y/n’s) gone.

It was the longest conversation they’d had in months.  If you could even call it a conversation.

They used to talk all the time, sneaking out to smoke or crashing in each other’s rooms with a stash of magazines and R-rated movies.  They used to be actual friends.  But that was a lifetime ago and as far as (y/n) was concerned, completely unattainable now.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Can’t tonight, got big plans with Shoko,” (y/n) says, popping a piece of strawberry taffy in her mouth.  She’d stolen it from Satoru’s stash just a few hours ago, keeping it safely hidden in her pocket until he was no longer around to catch her savoring it.  “Yaga gave me an assignment first thing in the morning, but we could hang out after?” 

Nanami Kento knows that the candy she was rolling over her tongue didn’t belong to her, and he knows he’ll probably have to lie to his obnoxious upperclassman once the idiot notices a piece has gone missing.  He’s not above lying, but he certainly doesn’t enjoy it.  Especially to the face of the strongest sorcerer.  But when (y/n) produces another parchment wrapped piece from her pocket and passes it off to him, he takes it for the price of that lie.

“Tomorrow works,” Nanami agrees softly, peeling away the wrapper of the green sweet.  “We should probably study for the upcoming exam-” 

“Sweet! Taffy!” 

Another voice interrupts the conversation, and it’s no surprise to see Haibara Yu bounding up to the two of them.  With stars in his eyes and a face splitting grin, neither (y/n) nor Nanami could be annoyed with him for butting in between them with an outstretched hand.

“Sorry, Yu,” (y/n) frowns, holding up the empty wrapper from her piece between her index and middle fingers.  “Fresh out” 

Just as Yu turns to his other friend, Nanami’s already popped the key lime flavored piece into his mouth.  The bright grin on Yu’s face falls into a dramatic frown.

“It’s Gojo’s anyways, go ask him for a piece” Nanami says gruffly, raising his eyebrows in a pointed stare, silently telling his colleague to take the hint and leave them be.

Yu’s obvious in the way he opens his mouth and nods along.  He thinks he’s being smooth when he stammers out an excuse about ‘having to be, uh, somewhere’ before scampering off and giggling into his hand.

“Great, he’s totally gonna tattle on me now” (y/n) groans, but something about the idea of a confrontation with Gojo Satoru himself makes her smirk with excitement.

Nanami recognizes the look and as stupid as it would be to go toe to toe with the Six Eyes user over a few pieces of taffy, his lips twitch in amusement seeing the mischievous look on her face.

“He won’t,” He assures her.  “I’ll just pick some up for him next time I’m in town” 

“No no,” (y/n) shakes her head, smiling softly at him for the gesture.  “No need.  I’ll just snatch more next time,” 

Nanami knows he should be gently prompting her not to steal from their fellow classmates, but he knows that lecturing her will get him nowhere, and he’s not in the interest of making her lose whatever deluded interest in him she’d already taken up.

Deluded, indeed.  Kento has no clue what it was about him that (y/n) had grown so attached to since his enrollment at Jujutsu Tech, but for some reason unknown to him, she sought out his companionship, time and time again.  She often asked to be training partners, and then studying partners, and overtime it morphed into real friendship.  Although he had a habit of suggesting boring activities when she offered him her free time- like right now.

“And we’re not studying.  That’s not fun.  I want to do something fun” (y/n) half-scolds him playfully for the ridiculous idea he always came up with.  It was almost routine at this point.

After his terrible idea, she’d come up with a wildly outlandish one.

“Let’s sneak into a hotel and pretend we’re guests so we can use the pool!” 

To which Kento promptly turned down with a bewildered look on his face.

“Absolutely not” 

And then they could find a compromise between the two, which was always the normal, reasonable option.

“Hang out in the shopping district and not buy anything?” 

It was like clockwork.

With the plan agreed upon, conversation would move on to something else as they’d slowly wander back to the dormitories.  Nanami knew it wasn’t fair to stall when she had plans with Shoko for the night, but she wasn’t exactly rushing the two of them either.  And maybe he was a little deluded himself, thinking maybe she wanted to talk to him for a while longer, just like he did.

By the time they reach the girls’ building, they’re stopped out front, and she’s still going on with a story about the last curse she exorcized and how ugly it was.  It had him laughing, more so than that day Gojo got his ass handed to him by Yaga during training, and the deeply buried selfish part of him hoped she’d keep standing there and talking to him all night.

“So blue, hairless, sticky globs aren’t your type I take it?” He half jokes as she goes on dramatically about the nasty curse that was the cause of her new record for longest shower.  

It’s only a joke, believe him, Kento didn’t know the first thing about flirting.  As far as he was concerned, no one had ever flirted with him before, and he was pretty certain he’d also never partaken in the act.  But there’s a look that flashes across (y/n’s) features that he’s never seen before, something between amusement and what he thinks could be calculation.  Her head tilts at a small angle as a slow smile creeps over her face.

“No, no.  I’m only into the gloomy, blonde, unattainable types,” She tells him boldly.

For a moment he thinks she’s joking back at him, but realization strikes him and all the blood drains out of his face, before rushing back up and heating up his entire neck and face.  (y/n) must notice, because she giggles, and finally turns towards the dorms.

“Shoko’s gonna come snatch me any minute if I keep her waiting like this, so I better go,” 

She’s talking again before he can think of anything to say- or come up with any thought at all, really.  But if it makes things awkward, she doesn’t show it.  In fact, the grin she’s wearing could rival Haibara’s.

“But I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

And Kento could only manage a shaky nod of his head as he watched her go.  He barely even waves back at her when she bids him a good night.

Once inside, (y/n) bolts to Shoko’s room with a bright red face and a girlish eagerness to tell her all about the little interaction.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

On her worst nights, she lays awake on top of her covers, staring at the same peculiar spot on her ceiling that she swears she’ll wipe off in the morning, and more often than not, it takes multiple hours before she falls asleep.

And the sleep is not relaxing.  Her muscles remain tense, hands in fists and knees clutched tight to her chest.  She’s lucky if it’s dreamless.  Otherwise, she’s plagued with the memories of every mistake of her past.  The worst of all of it, is the image of Haibara Yu’s lifeless body in the infirmary.  He’s half covered by one of the shitty, stiff white sheets, and no matter how long she waits with bated breath, he never wakes up.

By the end of the nightmare, Yu’s always dead, and Kento always leaves.

It doesn’t matter if things play out differently than they had in the real memory.  It doesn’t matter if she lets him walk away, or if she begs kicking and screaming for him to stay.  The ending stays the same.

He leaves, and he never comes back.

Some nights he tells her that it’s her own fault, that she wasn’t there to change things.  Some nights he doesn’t even say a word.  (y/n) doesn’t know which is the lesser of two evils, because sometimes, just sometimes, it’s such a comfort to hear his voice again that she could forgive him for the nasty things the image of him would spit at her.

Even when she’d jolt awake with limbs that ache and tears staining her pillowcase, she almost wishes she could go back into the nightmare, just to see him again for a few minutes longer.

On the nights you can’t go back to sleep, she finds herself pulling up the contacts list in her phone and staring at his number.  It might not even be his number anymore, he very well could have changed it in the last ten years.  But it’s a phone number with his name attached nonetheless.  She’s never called it, never texted it, even in her worst states, blackout drunk or breaking down on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night, she’s never made the mistake of reaching out to him.

They had a silent agreement after all.  To never reach out again.  To completely remove themselves from each other’s lives.  To become total strangers.  At least, (y/n) was sure that was what happened between them.  No other explanation ever presented itself, and again, it wasn’t like she could ask. Gojo liked to say people just drift apart, sometimes.  She thinks he’s a liar, and maybe a bit of a coward, but she’s never said it to his face.  Drifting apart happens over time, she thinks.  Drifting apart feels natural, even if it hurts a little bit.  Normal people drift apart after life gets in the way, with work, or maybe kids, or some other roadblock that comes about with life.  

Sorcerers didn’t drift apart.  Or maybe it was that they couldn’t drift apart.  There would always be something that kept them tied together, even if running around somewhere far from one another, it was like they’d always be interconnected.  The society of jujutsu sorcerers was so small, it should be impossible to drift apart.  

There were only two ways to escape it.

The obvious and most frequent cause was death.  It was hardly talked about, and perhaps there was a written code never to address the mortality rate of jujutsu sorcerers, but the numbers didn’t lie.  This life was not for the weak, and certainly not for those who feared what was on the other side of life.

Haibara Yu fell victim to it before he got the chance to graduate, and she kept it to herself, but (y/n) believed his passing to be the beginning of the end.  As much as she hated him for dying, she could forgive him for drifting apart, as Gojo coined it.  She’d forgiven him a long time ago, while knelt over his grave with near-frostbitten hands pressed into the marble stone marking it.  She’d forgiven him between choked out sobs, before pleading for his forgiveness in return.  

Death was a sweet, cruel escape from the lives sorcerers lived.  Sweet to those it claimed, releasing them from the horrors they faced in their everyday lives in the name of doing something for the greater good.  Cruel to the people left behind to mourn them, counting down the days that pass until the same fate would claim them as well.

But perhaps (y/n) was a pessimist in her natural state, always finding the worst in every situation.  She knew this about herself.  The problem lied in the fact that pessimism was just too easy to explain away everything wrong with the world.  

Because if everything wrong in the world had a larger, more complex reasoning than that of it’s simply bad because that’s the way the world works, then how could the work of any amount of people be enough to fix it?

Then there was the other cause for drifting apart.  And perhaps this reason is why Gojo deflected with his choice of wording, because it was defecting.  Which is what Geto Suguru did when he renounced jujutsu sorcerery, after slaughtering an entire village of people and then his parents.

If death was sparsely spoken of, defecting was taboo.  The difference being no one wanted to speak of the treacherous act and those who committed it.  Geto Suguru wasn’t the only one in the history of jujutsu to turn his back on sorcerers and become a Curse User, but he was certainly the most recent, and the acts he committed had been crueler than what was seen by those in the past.

So much so that when her mind drifted off to him, (y/n) found herself straightening up and finding any other topic for her brain to hyperfocus on.  It felt wrong to even conjure up the image of his face in the privacy of her own mind.  Sometimes the paranoia wrecked her so much she feared Gojo’s Six Eyes would catch her in the act of reminiscing on a past where everyone was still around, still happy, still alive.  Now on the rare occasion she lets herself think of those times, there’s a black blur where Geto once was, leaving Gojo and his idiotic grin alone, even in the back of her mind.

Even right now, with her mind drifting off while Gojo had been speaking to her, her posture suddenly stiffens and she’s sitting straight up in her chair, tuning back into whatever he was rambling on about.

It wasn’t often she found herself in Gojo’s office, much less speaking with him, but he’d requested a one-on-one with her and even if she’d declined it, he would’ve tracked her down.  Her actually showing up was a courtesy only to herself.

The surprise on Gojo’s half-covered face when she actually appeared at his door wasn’t hidden at all.  In another life, she would’ve teased him for the way his jaw dropped open.  In this life, she’d stood silently and motionlessly at his door, as if her stillness would’ve let her go undetected, even with his Six Eyes.

At first the meeting consisted of talk about a Special Grade curse popping up around Kyoto that the other school’s resources hadn’t been able to exorcize.  It actually seemed like an important talk for a good fifteen minutes.  But at some point Gojo had derailed and when she tuned herself back in, he was going on about a bakery in the shopping district.

Her brows furrow, giving herself away in that she hadn’t been listening for a good few minutes, but Gojo continues on with a story about bread.

“Sorry to interrupt,” She interrupts unapologetically, “But what does this have to do with the Special Grade?” 

There’s a flicker of confusion on Gojo’s face, but then he grins and laughs too loud.  He adjusts himself in his seat, which he’d been leaning across improperly but in a way that was just so him.

“My bad!” He says through his cackles, and next thing she knows, he’s rummaging through the doors of his desk- which looked like it cost more than her monthly rent.  He’s muttering a string of disgruntled curses as he digs through a few drawers, pulling some papers out, only to drop them on the desktop and going back to his search.

(y/n) already knows that whatever he’s looking for, he won’t find in that desk.  Her eyes wander the pile accumulating in front of him.  From file folders to loose pieces of notebook paper to envelopes and what she thinks might be bills, there’s not a chance any of it is useful to their current conversation.  Or perhaps useful at all, Gojo had always been notorious for doing his reports late- if at all- and she had a feeling everything in front of her now was just junk.

“Gojo?” She calls softly when he switches to the column of drawers on the other side of the desk, only to continue his messy search.  He doesn’t respond, too lost in the disorganization of it all, so she calls his name again, a little more firmly this time.

He jolts upwards, staring at her with his undivided attention from behind the black fabric of his blindfold.  (y/n) impatiently raises a brow at him.  It takes a real effort to not start tapping her finger against the desk in a display of her growing irritation.

“What is it you’re looking for?” She shakes her head, wondering why she even has to ask.

“The reports from the Kyoto school!” He claims, “I could’ve sworn I put them back in here after I- aha!” 

The sudden change in demeanor when he hollers and snaps his fingers makes her flinch, just a little bit, but enough for Gojo to mumble an apology as he rounds the desk.  (y/n) stands, expecting to follow him out of the room, but he waves at her dismissively in order to keep her put.  

“I left them in my classroom!” He shouts as he makes his way to the door.

(y/n’s) brows furrow, and her mouth drops open to scold him for keeping such documents in a public place, but before she could, he’s admitting something worse.

“I was showing my students earlier as an example piece!” He says it like he’s proud, but the way (y/n) looks at him, you’d think he just admitted to running over her cat.  “Be right back!” 

She lets out a huff when he’s finally gone, whether it's from deepening annoyance or relief to have a break, she’s not sure.  But she turns back to the desk as she waits, only to be met with the mess he’d made.

With a glance to the clock on the wall, she realizes that in the thirty minutes of this meeting, only half of it was spent discussing a work-related matter.  The other half was… well fifteen minutes of her life she just won’t get back, she supposed.

It might have been overstepping, but she figures organizing the piles left on Gojo’s desk was a better use of her time than the last few minutes had proven.  So with another sigh she gets to sorting.

It’s a lot of piles she creates, but at least there’s a reason for the mess, and at least she stacks everything neatly.  The tallest stack is the random pieces of notebook paper- some are grocery lists, some are doodles, and some are notes that actually seem important, like recollections from assignments that he’d need to add to his backed up reports.  The other piles are separated into files of previous reports, assorted envelopes, and then a stack of miscellaneous pages she couldn’t make heads or tails of.  Either way, Gojo would be obligated to feel some appreciation for her work here.

She works in silence and mindlessly, barely giving even the strangest of papers a second glance once she determines the proper placement for it.  But then she comes across an envelope-enclosed letter.

It’s been opened, which isn’t the oddest thing about it.  What makes it stand out is how neatly the flap was detached, not a single tear in the rest of the envelope.  Unlike the other letters, which were tucked away in shredded envelopes.  They’d likely been ripped open by impatient fingers.  This one was in perfect condition.

Curiously, she flips it over in her hand, but the only thing written across the front of it is Gojo’s name, in neat, straight handwriting.  There’s no addresses, and no stamp.  This letter was hand delivered.  

With a single glance to the open door of the office behind her to ensure that Gojo wasn’t returning at that very moment, she lets her curiosity get the better of her.  She’s not sure who she assumes this letter is from, or what it’s contents are, but the mystery of it has her opening the flap and plucking out the folded paper inside.

Even the folds are neatly creased, folding up the single page into a rectangle that fits perfectly inside of the envelope.  Whoever the letter was from clearly had an eye for the organized, unlike the recipient of said letter.

With great care she opens it up, holding the page between her fingers gently, afraid that a grip too tight could fold the page and soil it’s perfect condition.

Her eyes scan over the words quickly.

Gojo Satoru,

If you’re reading this, I suppose I mustered up the courage to actually deliver this to you.  I’m sure that was no easy feat.  I will try to keep this concise, as I’ve thought about writing this to you many, many times.  Now that I’m actually doing it, I hope I can follow through.

(y/n) touches her fingers to lips as if to suppress the small gasp that escapes her.  Could this have been from Geto Suguru? The thought makes a chill run down her spine, but against her better judgment, she keeps on reading.

Straight to the point.  Life as a salary man is no better than life as a sorcerer may have proven to be.  I’m making more money, I’m told I should feel joy in my successes, and I am successful, but there is no joy.  I fear that without doing something for the good of the world, I won’t feel joy at all.  

I fear I’ve made a grave mistake.

No, this couldn’t have been from Geto, right?  With her deductions from the next few lines, (y/n) was growing confused at the point of view of the writer.  

But who else was close enough to Gojo to write him a letter? Utahime? But it seemed as though the writer was a man.  She chewed on her lip as she continued scanning over the words.

When I left Jujutsu Tech, I truly intended to never come back.  I believed that in a world full of curses, and shit, that there was nothing anyone could do to make it a better place.  For as long as sorcerers and non-sorcerers exist, their counterpart will always be curses.  After Haibara, I believed my existence made no difference in jujutsu society, therefore leaving me no place in it.

I was wrong.

With wide eyes, the hand remaining on the page began to tremble, shaking the thin paper in the slightest and making it a bit more difficult to read.  The gears began to fall into place, and (y/n) had a sneaking suspicion that this letter wasn’t from Geto Suguru at all.

More than that, I foolishly miss the things that once were.  I miss feeling like I’m making a difference in the world, even if it’s minimal.  I miss helping people.  I even miss using my Cursed Technique.

And admittedly, I miss (y/n).

This time when she gasps, (y/n) presses her entire hand against her open mouth.  It does little to stifle the noise. 

I wish I could say that leaving was the right path for me, that I’m doing much better than I really am, but it would all be lies.  I’m worse off than I’ve ever felt in my life.  Turning my back on sorcery, and on (y/n), was a choice I’ll regret for the rest of my life.

The last time we spoke, you asked me to come back.  You told me if I ever wanted to, that you’d make the arrangements.  I’m sure you remember that I promptly told you to fuck off.  I apologize.  You were only trying to help, and for once, you were right.

I suppose this is me saying that I want to return.

Whatever means necessary, if I have to relocate to Kyoto, or start the process completely over, I’ll understand.  I only ask two things.  One, is for you to pull whatever strings you have in order to make it happen.  I owe it to myself, to jujutsu society, and I owe it to (y/n).

The second ask is for you not to mention this to her until the decision is final.  If I’m unable to return, no matter the reason, I don’t want her to know of the arrangement.  I simply can’t have her thinking I’ve abandoned her a second time.  I would rather she remember me as a deserter than a coward, as dreadful as that is.

I’d appreciate your discretion, and your aid.  You have my number if you have any questions.

Finally, and slowest of all, her eyes drift to the signature neatly slanted at the bottom of the page.  Her heart had previously been racing in her chest as she read the entire page in record time, but it suddenly plummets deep into her gut as her suspicions are confirmed.

Nanami Kento.

Her thoughts are so jumbled that all she can do is glance across the letter as if she would catch something new, as if she hadn’t already taken it all in, in it’s entirety, likely committing most of it to memory on her first read.

After Haibara… 

… I was wrong…

… I miss (y/n)... 

… lies… worse off… regret… 

I appreciate your discretion…

“Ah, you found that, huh?” 

When she turns to Gojo Satoru, who was standing in the doorway with a folder in his hands for an unknown amount of time, (y/n) doesn’t feel any shame in going through his things and reading a private letter that was very clearly not meant for her eyes.  All she can do is stare at him, the evidence of her crime still in her hand.

She doesn’t say a word.  She doesn’t move.  Her hard gaze sets on him and it’s enough for him to know she’s demanding an explanation.

“He really didn’t want you reading that, y’know,” Gojo closes the door behind him this time, crossing the room and tossing the found folder on top of the freshly organized stacks of paper on his desk.

Emotions bubble up inside of her that she can barely get straight.  She thinks she catches the tail end of desperation, which quickly morphs into rage, and then it burns into something completely unrecognizable.

“Too late now, though, huh?” 

He has the nerve to grin, like he was amused by the entire thing.  If her entire body wasn’t frozen stiff, she might’ve grabbed him by the collar and demanded a proper explanation from him.  She might’ve threatened him if she had to.

Instead, all that comes out is,

“How long did you keep this from me?” 

His smile falters, but he doesn’t quite frown.  Just regards her with a neutral expression as he keeps calm.  She hates that he had to be put through something so traumatic that he was forced to learn to keep his cool.  In another life, she would’ve gotten all the information out of him that she’d need just from his initial reaction.  Now, she has to dig and prod at him until he unwraps every layer and tears down every wall he’s created to protect himself.

What she doesn’t know, is the most twisted part is he’s thinking the same thing about her.

“Couple weeks” 

“Weeks!?” She doesn’t mean to yell, her voice raises against her will, but she doesn’t apologize for the lack of professionalism.

“If you recall, you weren’t exactly supposed to be in the loop-” 

“That’s bullshit, Satoru!” This time, she has every intent to yell, before she slams the page down on the desk with enough force to have a small breeze ruining the stacks of pages.  

Neither one of them comment on it, but the way Gojo’s eyes slide slowly from the new mess she created before going back to her, speaks volumes.  She ignores it.

“How could you keep this from me?” 

“(y/n)-” Gojo barely has the time to let out a sigh before she’s shouting at him again.

“I deserved to know about this!” She’s jamming her finger into the letter hard enough that it hurts when she hits the oak desk underneath but she pays the throbbing no mind.  “When did this happen? When is he coming back?”

“It’s… it’s still sort of up in the air,” He says quickly, as if he were unable to keep himself from indulging her in some of the details.  “But it’s not solid yet, and you never heard a thing-!” 

“Satoru,” (y/n) touches her fingers to her forehead as she sighs.  “He’s clearly not doing well, what’s going on? How long have you been talking with him?” 

He’s told her too much already, and he knows that if Nanami were to find out that (y/n) got her hands on this letter, he’d probably be throttled.  If (y/n) didn’t beat him to it, that is.

“We’ve been talking for a while…” Gojo sighs, dropping himself into his chair and doing his best to avoid the bewildered and hurt expression that she’s currently wearing as she glares at him.  “Look (y/n) it’s not like I was hiding this to upset you, alright? Nothing was set in stone and if it didn’t work out I didn’t… I just didn’t want to see anyone get hurt” 

She scoffs, her head shaking at him in disbelief.  Gojo frowns.

“You should take some time to sit with this,” He suggests, before reaching across the desk to push the letter towards her again.  “You can take it, if you want” 

Scoffing again, she snatches up the page.  Her brows furrow as she tries to make him aware of just how disgusted she is by this entire ordeal, but the way her lips wobble and her eyes begin to fill with tears gives her away.

However she’d never break in front of Gojo Satoru, so without a word she turns her heel and storms out of the office, making sure to slam the door shut behind her.

Her hands tremble so much that the page quivers in her hold, creating the only sound in the barren corridor.  Her movements halt when she realizes she’s alone in this space, and finally, a small broken gasp escapes her throat.

Willing herself not to cry, she tilts her head back and squeezes her eyes shut tight.  It seemed that the emotions she’d suppressed and buried all those years ago were finally bursting at the seams to be let out.  All of the anger, the loss, the disappointment- it clawed its way out of the hole in her chest and made it’s way up her throat.

With only a hard swallow and the strong will to keep herself from breaking down right here, she pushed it all back down.

She’s not sure what compelled her to pull her phone out of her pocket and hurriedly tap until she’s scrolling through her contacts list.  But it’s as if her hands are working on muscle memory alone as she stops her scrolling under N and is clicking on Nanami Kento’s name as if it were normal to reach out to him.

Once his contact information sits before her, however, she freezes on the spot, thumb hovering over the screen.  All that’s there is a phone number and an old school email she’d never removed from the page.  He doesn’t even have a photo, as she’d added his number to her contacts before smartphones gave you the option to add a contact picture.

What, was she supposed to call him now? After all this time? Her thoughts grew bitter as she stared at the screen.  He never reached out to her, not once, not after promising he would.

And yet, Gojo Satoru had kept in contact with him? 

Her phone is locked and back in her pocket in two seconds before she’s marching herself out of the building and heading towards anywhere that she’d consider far enough away from the Special Grade Sorcerer.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The day Nanami returns is hectic.  His arrival isn’t the only thing to blame, in fact, (y/n) could have almost forgotten about it completely.  Almost.

She’d been sent off on back to back assignments, nasty curses popping up one after another and with the shortage of Jujutsu Sorcerers, she couldn’t exactly turn it down.  

Even once they’d been exorcized- which wasn’t an easy feat- she’d returned to campus only to find Gojo had unsurprisingly abandoned his students for long enough that she’d stepped in and helped guide their training exercises.  They were good students, and for the most part were able to take care of themselves, but every once in a while Panda would goof off a bit too much and once he and Inumaki were distracted, Maki was bound to get looped in as well.  Other than that, she had no complaints about subbing in for their teacher.

And once it was all said and done and she could finally go home and start her unofficial routine, she was reminded of the reason she’d been so on edge today to begin with.

Nanami Kento stood at the grand main entrance of Jujutsu Tech.  Alongside Gojo Satoru and Principal Yaga, but their presence registered a few seconds later.

Tunnel vision took over against her will, blurring away the other bodies, and then the entire surrounding area, until there was only Nanami Kento in her sights.  If it weren’t for him, and knowing that it was simply the effect he had, she might’ve thought that the long day was getting on top of her and she was passing out.

He looked so different and yet exactly the same.  

He’d clearly grown into himself.  His hair was styled differently, no longer hanging over his forehead in that gloomy teenager way.  He seemed a bit taller, a bit broader, and simultaneously just as handsome as she remembered, and even more so.

It was hard to tell how long she’d been standing there, frozen in place, but when she’s finally caught, it feels like it’s been hours.

It’s Nanami who sees her first- although she’s convinced deep down that Gojo knew she’d been there all along- and the look on her face makes her stomach twist with an unpleasant emotion.

He doesn’t react right away, as if he doesn’t recognize her, but just as quickly as the thought crosses her mind, his expression morphs.  His eyes widen, and his jaw opens, but he doesn’t call out to her.  Instead they both stand in place, a good ten feet apart, staring at each other as if for the first time.

More hours pass.  It isn’t until Gojo turns towards her with the widest shit eating grin she’s ever seen that she’s broken from her daze.  He waves her over, and she thinks he said something, but her feet are carrying her towards the group before she could actually listen to what he was saying.

Her eyes don’t leave Kento for even a second.  Not a single stray to acknowledge her colleague or principal, there was nothing that could pull her attention away.

It takes a deep breath before she could actually find her voice.

“Welcome back, Nanami” 

It comes out quieter than she intended, soft enough her voice almost fails her completely.

There’s the smallest of smiles on her face, genuine, but the confusion is still there in the way the corner of her lips twitch with discomfort.

It’s painfully silent between the group of four, she wishes someone would just say something, because she still can’t tear her eyes away from Nanami and the longer they stand there like that the more she worries she’ll combust.

Nanami doesn’t appear to have the same level of discomfort as her.  He seems completely unphased as he stands among them.  With his hands tucked casually into his pockets, and his expression unwavering in it’s neutral position.

As (y/n) begins to take notice of just how unmoved he is by standing here now- after everything, after he fucking left her here, after the letter- her discomfort grows into utter displeasure.  With the silence that had settled between them since her approach, it was terribly obvious.  Her nose twitched, her hands curled into stiff-knuckled fists at her sides, and her posture was so pin-straight it must’ve hurt, seeing as she didn’t usually stand so square.

“Just in time (y/n), we were just discussing Nanamin’s little welcome back party,” Gojo speaks up and finally (y/n) tears her fiery gaze away from the man that could hardly stand to avoid it.  “You should come by.  Tomorrow night after work,” 

The look on her face doesn’t change even once she’s turned her attention towards Gojo, and he winces a bit the longer her eyes bore into him, but he continues on anyway.

“Everyone will be there, Shoko, Ijichi, even Utahime’s coming by,” 

He makes it hard to find an excuse to say no, but (y/n) chalks that up to his personality.  Since she’d found that letter a couple of weeks ago, he’d taken it upon himself to pester her and over-involve himself in her day-to-day.  This wasn’t unlike him, she just hadn’t seen the behavior in quite some time.

“I’ll send you the address and you can come by, hm?” He’s nodding at her in confirmation before she can come up with a decent reason why she can’t go.  Her teeth are sinking into her cheek as she gives him a small nod of her head.

“Yeah.  Sure” Her words are as sharp and strained as she appears while speaking them.  She gives a tight lipped smile to the three of them, and is walking away before she could get herself roped into anything else.

Her fists curl and uncurl at her sides as she briskly makes her way off the campus.  It takes an effort not to break into a sprint.

Which is odd, because with the way her heart is reacting, she wanted nothing more than to turn back around and run towards him.  Instead, with ragged breathing and misty eyes, she couldn’t get herself away fast enough.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Feeling yourself shut down was an odd sensation.  She always thought that if something traumatic happened to her, she’d leave her body for an unknown amount of time while her mind works to process the heavy emotions.

Instead, it was like a weight was being set on her shoulders.  Slowly pushing- and she knew it would crush her, she knew that soon this weight would be too much to carry, and she feared what would happen when it finally crushed her.

It feels as if there’s a giant pair of invisible hands holding her in place, keeping her frozen in the morgue.  Another fear settled in the pit of her stomach- that those hands would hold her here forever.

Her eyes feel dry, despite all of the tears today.  She forces herself to blink a few times every time they start to feel dry again.  The long periods of staring without blinking was starting to go from irritating to painful.

“(y/n),” 

Kento’s voice is a shock to her system, making her tense up before relaxing as she glances back at him, where he’s sat against the furthest edge of the room.  She’d almost forgotten he’d been there too.  Her heart breaks for the thousandth time that day seeing him press his face into a damp cloth.

“I can’t take this anymore” 

She completely turns around then, although it hurts to turn her back on Haibara, she couldn’t bear to let Kento feel like he was alone in this moment.

The dryness in her eyes starts to go away as her tear ducts begin to swell.

“Kento…?”

Her voice cracks, and her throat tightens up on her so fast that the rest of her question dies on her tongue.  She’s left standing there with nothing to say, nothing to offer.  That is, besides her presence and this trauma they shared.

He drops the rag, revealing sunken eyes paired with dark semicircles, frown lines already prominent at the corners of his mouth.  He looks how she feels- utterly wrecked.

When he looks at her, the numbness in her limbs is replaced with an icy chill.  The invisible claws on her body tighten and lock in place.  Even if she knew the right thing to do, the right way to comfort him, she can’t move a muscle.

It feels like ages before he sighs, and finally explains himself.

“I’m leaving,” 

For his voice barely rising above a whisper, the simple words are loud and clear.  And even though the numbness settles over her rigid body again, (y/n) assumes her face must have betrayed her as she stares back at him, because he suddenly looks startled as he watches her react to the news.  Kento pauses, and clears his throat before he speaks up again.

“I… I have to,” He breathes out, an admission he’d not yet shared.  All the higher ups needed to know was that he was dropping out and would be joining the workforce.  They didn’t exactly care about the details.  “I… I can’t take this anymore.  I’m not…” 

The words die before he ever really considers admitting the full truth to her.  (y/n) was a strong and endlessly talented sorcerer.  How could he admit to her that he just didn’t have what it took to be as strong as her?  This past week had felt like test after test of his will, and at the end of it, Nanami decided to quit while he was down for the count.  He couldn’t bear another loss- after Haibara, after Geto- it seemed it was only a matter of time before he witnessed the death of everyone he’d ever cared about.

He doesn’t voice any of this.  Instead, he just shakes his head at her before he stands.

“I’ve already packed my things, and let the higher ups know” 

(y/n’s) mouth opens and closes a few times, small gasps of disbelief coming in between her bouts of silence, but it takes a few tries before any words could come out.

“L-leaving?” For as quickly as her mind is running with this news, her words struggle to catch up.  Her brows furrow as she struggles to find the right thing to say amongst the mess of thoughts in her head.

“I have a few interviews lined up,” His hand rubs the back of his neck and he has to turn himself away from her as he continues.  It’s cowardly, and he knows that, but he wanted this all to come from him.  Only him.  “I’m not cut out to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer.  Not… not like this” 

She wants to tell him that’s not true, that he’s a fantastic sorcerer.  Even if it means screaming at him in order for him to truly understand just how firmly she believed he belonged here.

Maybe the state of shock she was in was too great to properly articulate her thoughts.  Or maybe she didn’t want to put more pressure on his choice by fighting for him to stay.

Either way, she doesn’t say a word.

Her mouth shuts and the tears in her eyes cling to her lashes with every blink.  All she does is stare at him, and hope he’ll say something that will give her a sense of comfort with his bad news.  A silver lining, a bright side.

Instead, Nanami Kento makes her a promise.

“It’s not like I’m just… disappearing,” 

He glances back at her with great uncertainty.  He’s never seen her cry before today, and he thinks it would break him completely if he was the cause of more tears.  

“You know?” 

His voice is a mumble, but he knows she hears him.  He knows because her lips wobble as she tries to keep them from frowning, and eventually she presses them into a tight line.  

“Anytime you want…” 

He trails off, because he’s never done this before, and he’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to say to convince her that if she ever needed anything he was a phone call away.  Ironically, these are words he’s been trying to tell her since the day they met, but even now his throat gets that tight and scratchy feeling, and he chokes on them for the umpteenth time.  His fingers flex outward, straining and trembling as he tenses the muscles in his hand to it’s fullest extent before he shoves it into his pocket and bites down on his cheek.

“I promise, alright?” 

(y/n) swallows the lump in her throat, seeming to understand what the parts he’d failed to say.  She was always better at reading between the lines than he was, but today especially, Kento feels like he’s failing her.

The feeling is so disgusting in his gut- hot, and churning in his insides- that he has to close his eyes to keep himself from looking at her again.

“Okay,” Is all (y/n) can manage to say at first.  It’s quiet, her voice strained and raw and harsh to his ears despite her whisper.  “You too, Ken” She adds after a few beats pass.

He hopes she knows she means it, that she promises it too.

If he does, he doesn’t indicate so.  

That’s the last time she sees him before he leaves Jujutsu Tech, and it’s the last time they’ve spoken.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Social events weren’t (y/n’s) comfort zone.  Maybe once, when she was younger, she would have been eager for such a party.  All of her friends, the people who she loved most in this world, her makeshift family, in one place seemed so enticing at one time.  

Now, it feels like a karmic punishment.

The way her stomach twists into knots despite only nursing her second drink, the way her skin pricks with anxious goosebumps anytime someone wanders too close to her and appears as though they wanted to catch up, it all starts to feel too much.  It makes her sweat, and before she knows it she’s checking the time on her phone every five minutes.  Then soon, every two.

Don’t get her wrong- she tried.  She really did try.  She hung around while Gojo and Utahime were fighting over a game of darts, and even though she didn’t partake she was there when the new kid, Takuma, ordered a round of shots for the group, she even sat and listened to as Nanami talked about his time as a salaryman.  She wanted to appear as present as possible, even though she was far from her own mind.

It was just too hard, wasn’t it? To sit there and pretend like there was something to celebrate, that his return was the greatest news of the year.  All it did was resurface ugly, buried feelings, and that mixed with just a couple of drinks created a pit in her stomach that only grew as the night went on.

Like an emotional black hole that would suck her up from the inside out.

Nanami had spoken about how the workforce wasn’t right for him, that it was full of selfish assholes who lacked basic human compassion, that it took and took and took and never provided a sense of fulfillment.  The longer he spoke about the toxic environment, the more (y/n) felt the weight of it all on her shoulders.

Nothing had changed.

With a lame excuse mumbled to Shoko beside her, she swallowed down the last of her drink and left the table.  Shoko wasn’t even given the chance to say anything- or ask her to repeat whatever she’d just missed- before (y/n) was walking right out of the bar.

Tokyo was cold this time of year, the light breeze enough to nip at any exposed skin, instantly making her nose and cheeks red.

It’s not pleasant, but it’s welcomed.  Even with her arms wrapped around herself to preserve her fading body heat, the cool air felt good sucked in between her teeth as she began a breathing exercise that she hadn’t done since she was young and afraid of the career path she was on.

Not as afraid as she would be taking up a normal job in the city, working amongst vultures and hyenas and vile men that made high grade curses look a little more innocent, but, still.

She’s too lost in her focus to hear the pub door opening and shutting behind her, so when someone speaks, she looks surprised as she turns towards them.

“Hey,” 

It’s quiet, but enough to draw her back to the chilly reality.  Nanami Kento stands there with one hand in the pocket of his coat, the other extended towards her.  He’d brought her coat out to her.

“You left that inside.  Too cold to walk home without it, yeah?” 

He’d spoken quite a bit tonight- or at least, a lot for him- and yet this was the most he’d actually spoken to her.  It makes her stomach twist in that way that was once pleasant, but tonight? She thinks it might make her sick.

“I wasn’t going home” 

She takes the coat, shrugging her arms into the sleeves and wrapping the front around herself as snug as she can get it.  It’s not as much of a relief from the cold as she’d hoped.

“Looked like it” 

His words aren’t sharp, they’re not accusatory, they don’t hold a hint of malice.  But she almost wishes they had, because the defeated way he says it feels worse.

Her eyes shoot towards his, and for a split second, he thinks this is the moment she snaps.  This is the part where she calls him out, for all the terrible things he’d done to her.  He braces himself, flinching just a bit as he holds his breath and waits for what he deserved to be handed to him.

(y/n) sighs.  Her shoulders slump downwards and a frown takes over her lips shortly after.  The disappointment in her gaze is more brutal than anything she could have screamed at him.  He wishes she would just scream at him.

“You should go back.  Gojo will freak if you ditch your own party, you know”

She turns away from him again because she has to.  She’s not brave enough to hold his persistent stare.

“I don’t want to” 

“Well I don’t want you to-” She stops herself before those emotions could force themselves out.  With a sharp inhale, she clamps her mouth shut and shakes her head, waits for the heat in her throat to be bearable enough to talk through.  “Just… just go back inside, Nanami” She sighs out the non-threatening demand, hoping he’d turn around without another word and disappear.

Hearing her call him by his surname felt like a knife to the back.  Not that it wasn’t what he deserved, he understood why she called him that, and he didn’t exactly expect to hear her call him Kento, or Ken in that sweet voice she used to- always delighted to see him, always smiling when his name would fall from her lips before her entire face would light up.  Hearing Nanami followed by her eyes darting to look at anything but his was like a punishment.

“I don’t want to do that” He repeats himself, and she wants to be upset with him for how calmly he speaks, because he makes it seem so easy, while she’s standing there like a ticking bomb trying desperately to slow down time.

“It’s freezing” She tries to argue.

“I don’t mind the cold”

“I’m not great company right now” 

“I’ve never thought that” 

With the mental timer still ticking, she spins on her heel, her brows furrowed as she regards him with a pitiful sort of glare.  All of the sadness she’d been trying to shield with anger was on full display.

“You left me,” 

It finally comes out in the heat of the moment, and as soon as the words are spoken she wishes she could take them back- she’d do anything to pack them back up in the box of ugly emotions and bury it somewhere new where no one could ever find it- but it’s too late now.  They hang in the air between them like a taunt over her head.

“You promised that you weren’t disappearing,” Her voice cracks and the strain of her voice gives away the tears in her eyes but even in her humiliation she can’t stop herself.  For a moment, she’s completely out of her body, looking down at herself as she shoves a finger into his chest and begins to properly cry.  “And then you did” 

The words are barely audible, spoken through such a shaky whimper that any other person in the world wouldn’t have been able to understand her.  But Nanami Kento knew exactly what she was saying.  He’d heard her say this all before, almost every night during the nightmares that plagued his sleep.

“(y/n)-” 

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything, because her dam had already been broken, and there was nothing she could do to stop the rush of all the pent up emotions now.  All the energy they’d drained out of her all these years came flooding out, and it was bound to take him out with her.

“And then you wrote ‘toru that fucking letter,” 

She doesn’t have the ability to yell anymore, but even the whispered confession is enough to shut him up.  His eyes go wide, and his mouth opens but he has nothing to say.  If she read that letter, then there was nothing for him to say.  She already knew everything he’d been hoping to keep from her.

Which, thinking about it now, it was foolish of him to believe keeping her in the dark so they could start fresh would ever be the outcome of all of this.  He should’ve known Gojo would dangle that letter in front of her like an enticing piece of gossip rather than the deep felt note it really was.  He winced and stared down at his feet for a moment as he recalled everything he’d said with the confidence of privacy.

“What was I supposed to make of that?” (y/n) whispers, and it doesn’t sound rhetorical, with the way she stares at him with those wide, teary eyes, but she’s speaking again before he can even come up with a response.  “I know you didn’t want me to see it and- and honestly a part of me wishes I hadn’t, maybe this would b-be easier, but…” She sniffles as she begins to stammer, her head shaking again in the hopes it would make her words more clear and concise.  “But I did see it and it’s not easy it’s- it’s really hard” 

He’s not sure what compels him to be so bold, but when she uncrosses her arms to aggressively rub the tears off of her cheeks, Kento reaches out and takes her wrist before she could defensively cross her arms again.  Her eyes go wide from the surprisingly gentle action, but she doesn’t try to pull away.

“It is hard.  It’s my fault that it’s hard,” He tells her softly.  

Seeing the tears still swelling in her pretty eyes makes his throat start to close up, and he can’t help but be reminded of the last day he’d seen her.  He’d been the cause of her tears then, too.

“I’m sorry, (y/n).  I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just… I was young, and what I thought was right was so foolish-” 

“A complete idiot” She mumbles weakly.  He nods back at her in agreement.

“I know,” He murmurs, and the warmth that the softness of his voice ignites in her chest is bound to spread through her and weaken her knees soon enough.  “I meant it all, though.  What I wrote.  I missed purpose.  I missed… you,” 

I missed you too sits on her tongue like lead.

“I should’ve written to you directly, I know that now, and if I could take it back I would but… when I wrote that letter, I still wasn’t sure if I’d…” He trails off, his eyes glancing around as he tries to find the right thing to say, which might have been useless, seeing as he’d been saying all the wrong things for most of his life.  “I didn’t know if I’d be strong enough to come back.  Strong enough for you.  I… (y/n), I left because I wasn’t strong enough to stay.  I didn’t… I couldn’t put you through that again” 

It’s messy, and it takes a moment for her to process it all, but slowly, it all clicks into place and she finally starts to understand what his motivations were in all of this.

“Kento…” She sighs, and it’s not quite like old times, but it does ignite an old spark in him that makes the corner of his mouth quirk upwards for just a brief moment.  “I didn’t need you to be any stronger than you already were,” 

Her fingers tremble as she slides her arm out of his hold, only to ghost the pads of her fingers over his palm.  Even after the years spent away from jujutsu sorcery, the palms of his hands still bore the rough calluses of a man wielding a weapon.  Her eyes darted towards his hand as she made contact with it, eyeing the way he offered his open palm to her, but made no move to take her hand.  He waited.

“I didn’t need you to be anything,” She murmured, glancing up at him then.  Her hand hovered over his still, but the pounding of her heart still caused it to shake.  “I just wanted you safe.  If that meant leaving then- then fine, but not knowing how you were, if you were okay, if you were happy, I… I hated that” 

She had her other hand wrapped around his heartstrings, he was sure, because the tugging on them was relentless and painful.  Kento had to clear his throat before a choked gasp could come out of it.

The urge to apologize over and over, until I’m sorry are the only words he knows how to say, until his throat is bloody and raw, strikes him so hard he almost actually does.

“(y/n),” 

Her name is murmured so softly his lips barely moved, breathed out so gently it was stolen and silenced by a sharp gust of wind that cuts between them.  Finally, her hand falls into his, as if the weight was too much for her to hold anymore.  Her fingers clasp around his palm as if muscle memory took over as soon as they touched, as if seven years apart meant nothing at all when it came to them.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” His eyes flicker in between hers, and he can’t stop his free hand from reaching out, hesitating only a moment before the cool pads of his fingers brush away the tears still stuck to her cheek.  “But… I don’t want to lose you again.  I left because I couldn’t stand to lose you and I… I did anyway, didn’t I?”

It’s like the final thread keeping her heart afloat is snapped, and it shatters as it crashes in her stomach.  Something escapes her upon that impact, something between a gasp and a sob, and it has Kento pressing his entire hand against her face, cupping her cheek and hoping he could provide even an ounce of the comfort she deserved.  This was all because of him, after all.  A knot forms between his brows and she frowns deeply as he takes in all of the hurt she’s feeling, taking responsibility for every second of it.

“No,” She breathes out, her head barely shaking with the protest.  “I loved you, Ken,” She confesses, and she’s not sure if it relieves a weight on her chest or makes it worse, but she runs with it.  

There was nothing left to lose, they’d made enough mistakes already, one more couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I- I still love you, I’ll always love you,” She starts to stammer but there’s not a single pause in her voice.  “Whether you stay or leave, that doesn’t just go away” 

The pad of his thumb presses a little harder into her cheekbone, and he moves in closer, staring at her intently as he takes in everything she said, basking in it, in all of it’s melancholy and sweetness, in the relief of after all these years, finally knowing how she feels.  Finally knowing that he’d never imagined things, that his feelings were reciprocated.

“I loved you, too,” He murmurs, and with the hand that’s still holding hers, he squeezes, maybe tighter than he should have, but he needed to make sure this wasn’t another cruel nightmare that he’d wake up from any second now.  He lets a beat pass just to be sure.  “I still love you, too” He repeats.

She sniffles, gasps quietly, and then the smallest of smiles begins to stretch across her lips.

When she leans forward, he brushes his lips over the crown of her head before he presses his forehead into hers.  His eyes fall shut and he keeps his hold on her secure.  It was still freezing out, the cold had settled in all of his limbs by now, but he needed to be with her here just a little bit longer.

“You don’t know how much I missed you, Ken” She mumbles, the tip of her cold nose brushing into his as she pressed a little bit closer.

He chuckles, and it’s not a humored laugh, more bittersweet and regretful, but it warms her heart just to hear it anyways.  When he whispers back to her it’s so sweet that she melts away completely.  Her shattered heart is welded back together solely through the power of Nanami Kento’s gentle presence and even gentler words.

“I think I have a pretty good idea, sweetheart” 

[ cause this is crazy love // i’ll catch you on the flip side ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

[cherriegyuu]

Midnight | ljh

pairing: jihoon x f!reader genre: angst word count: 2.1k summary: a sudden text leads you to the place you wished you never left warnings: death is a main plot point a/n: i've been m.i.a for a while now but i'm slowly getting back on track ~ really slowly ~ managed to write this last night so i hope you like it. thank you to @ressonancee for reading it for me💓

It’s a weird thought, dying. It was the kind of thought that often crossed your mind. What it would be like to die. Was it like flushing something down the toilet or turning off a lamp? One second and it was done, forgotten. Or was there something else so it was just a second of darkness before you were led to something else so incredible that it was hard even to imagine it? 

Maybe it was just a thought that never managed to leave your mind or perhaps it was because death seemed to be the central point of your life. Not only your life but everyone else’s lives. It was hard not to think about death when you may wake up one day and have it be your last day. It's hard not to feel scared to pick up the phone and see the text there, announcing one’s imminent death. 

Some days it was easy to forget about it all together. Days when life just hit the perfect amount of good, when it was just good enough that it could be overlooked, but not good enough so one could feel the storm down the line. It had been a long time since you had one of those. 

A good day.

You used to have plenty of them. Most of them were overlooked. You spent so much time just worrying about the smallest things, every little dust that seemed to be out of place, that you failed to see the good. You had taken it all for granted until it wasn’t yours anymore. 

Unlike most nights, when you’d wait until midnight to make sure you didn’t get the text, just to make sure that you had another day to live, you fell asleep. This weird state of numbness in which sleep was the only possible course of action. Dreamless and sound sleep, a good one. 

Yet, when you finally woke up to a text on your phone, it wasn’t scary. You had always expected that getting it would feel like doomsday had finally come, at least to you. But somehow, it was just a day. The sun shone brightly outside your window, the birds were chirping, and the kids laughed on the playground. 

To you, it was your final day. To everyone else, it was just a day. A normal, bright, sunny July day like any other. 

You didn’t make phone calls or somehow announce your death to everyone you knew, though that was probably the most responsible and respectful thing you could have done. Somehow, you didn’t want anyone to know. You want to go like you had come into this world, silently. Your mother used to say that you only cried after the doctor hit you a couple of times until you finally made a sound. You were a quiet child, she said, sometimes I’d just watch you play by yourself for hours, just to make sure that you were really there. 

All you did was put on your sunny dress, the light pink one that hit just above your knees, take your ID - which you were likely to need - and leave your apartment. You took one last look around, at the green couch you had chosen despite the protests of everyone around you, at the bookshelf filled with books that you had yet to read, the little decorations you had bought over the years that were a nightmare to clean but oh so pretty to look at.

“It was a good run, thank you”

Although dying was a constant thought, what you’d do when you found out about your death wasn’t. What you would do in those last 24 hours, where would you go, who would you see? 

Your mother was a clear and obvious no. Even if you went just for a visit, she’d know. You had never been able to lie to her. A programmed text was all that you’d allow yourself to give her and your friends. It was selfish, you knew that. You should give them time to say goodbye, they were the ones who would suffer, and they would be the ones left behind. 

You knew all of that, but couldn’t bring yourself to do anything about it.

You didn’t have a clear place to go in mind, you just wanted to walk. At first, you thought that it was aimlessly. And it was until it wasn’t. Until you reached the building you were all too familiar with, one where you had spent years of your life coming to, like it was your second home, until you didn’t. 

Taking a deep breath you pushed the door open. You weren't too sure of what you expected to find, but Jihoon right in front of you wasn’t one of them. It was too early for him to be there. His days usually started after noon, and that was still early, barely ten in the morning. So why was he there? 

“Hey,” he said. 

You wanted to urge him to keep talking. Anything at all was fine. His grocery list, all the planets in the solar system, counting from 0 to a million, a scary book. Anything. You just wanted to keep hearing his voice. You missed it. Six months without it, without him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, eyes scanning your face, your teary eyes. 

When did the lump in your throat happen?  Why were you on the verge of tears? 

For five years of your life, Jihoon was a constant. You used to float around him, adapting to him, clinging to him, loving him. Until he wasn’t. Until there was nothing left of him in your life but the memories you had made together. 

“I know… I know that I shouldn’t be here, that we agreed that we’d never seek each other out again” you pulled as much air into your lungs as you possibly could “But just for today, can you please let me stay?”

For the first time in your life, you didn’t mind how vulnerable you sounded. For once you didn’t mind using your pain to get what you wanted and needed. And you needed Jihoon like you needed him every day.

“What’s going on?”

Jihoon took a step towards you, hand raised on the same level as your face as if he would reach for you at any second. Would it be wrong to silently pray that he would? Would it be possible to wish for something so fervently? 

“Please, Jihoon, please. I need this just today. I promise I’ll never come to you again” you begged him, eyes closed when he never touched you. 

“I… yeah, okay. Just don’t…” he seemed distressed, but agreed either way. 

“Interrupt,” you said completing his sentence “I know”

Jihoon was never a bad boyfriend and you like to think that you weren’t a bad girlfriend either. People don’t stay five years together if they hate each other, or at least you thought so. You know you wouldn’t. And Jihoon wasn’t someone one could hate. He was serious and quiet, yes, of course, but he was also kind and warmhearted. He would quietly do things while thinking of you like leaving an extra hoodie in his studio in case you got cold, always having a hair elastic around his wrist because you always seemed to forget yours somewhere, like writing the words he found it difficult to say in a song and send it to you in the middle of the day – something that made you cry in your office desk. 

Like death, it was difficult to pinpoint when your relationship had ended. You were able to talk about issues, and then talking became screaming. Love songs, written most beautifully, became filled with resentment and anger. You were together and then you weren’t. 

He was yours and then he wasn’t. 

You watched the back of his head while he worked, listening to his fingers quickly tapping on the keyboard, sitting in the very same spot you used to. The extra hoodie was still neatly folded in the corner, the little box that used to be filled with your hair ties was still next to the coffee mug. When he reached for it you noticed that the back elastic was still around his wrist. 

The smoke of jealousy burned your throat, rising from the twisting pit of flames that your stomach had become. 

You shouldn’t feel bitter over it, had no right to be angry at him for moving on. Still, you allowed the feeling to sip into you, allowing the flames and smoke to take over your veins. It was your last day on earth, breathing, you should be allowed to hate the man you loved, even if it was just for a second. 

“Hey, you wake up”

You came to your senses with a gasp, eyes wide, gripping the hand on your shoulder for dear life. You wished for it to save you, to just pull you back. 

Jihoon’s eyes looked back at yours, filled with worry. His eyes too, were wide, mouth open in surprise. You relaxed your body against the couch again and took a couple of seconds to just look at him, to memorize him. 

If there was a place after this life, if there wasn’t just nothing after it, he was someone you’d want to remember. Your mother believed that the people in our lives are souls we choose to meet during the course of human life. If that was true, if you had a choice, you hoped to meet Jihoon again. 

“Sorry, I fell asleep” 

You cleared your throat, forcing your body to sit up and in the process pushing Jihoon away from you. The spot he had touched in your shoulder felt oddly warm, compared to the rest of your body. You wanted to ask him to touch you again, hold you again.

“It’s fine, you were probably tired”

Jihoon held back the desire to ask questions, to demand answers. He knew when you parted ways that he would never see you again, that if he did it would be by chance and there was no chance of you talking to him again. 

He had never seen you like that, eyes lost, sounding desperate. He didn’t have it in him to tell you to leave, he didn’t want to either. If a small moment with you, in silence, was all he had then he was more than happy to accept it.  

“Thank you for today. And, as I said, this won’t happen again”

You got up, running your hands over your dress, helplessly trying to smooth the wrinkles in your dress. He wanted to ask you to stay, invite you to dinner, ask if you were doing fine — although, if your restless sleep was a sign of anything, fine wasn’t one of them. 

“Okay” was all he managed to say before you almost fled his studio. 

Your steps were quick and you opted for the stairs instead of the elevator. It was only the second floor, you could go down a few flights of stairs.

It was already dark out when you pushed open the door, there were only a few cars in the street and only a couple of people rushing somewhere. A little bell inside your mind went off, like an alarm, like it said that you only had an hour left. 

“Wait!”

Jihoon rushed out of the building, turning his head side to side, trying to find you again. You simply stood there awkwardly, hand to sides of your body. 

“I… you… did you get the text?” 

A part of your brain told you to tell him the truth, to just cry and grieve the loss of your own life in front of him, let him hug you like you knew he would. But the other part, the one that was ego-driven, didn’t want the last image of you Jihoon ever saw to be a broken one. 

“No, no” you waved your hands in front of yourself, doing your best to smile reassuringly at him “I just had the worst night of my life and you were the only person I could think of”

“Oh” he furrowed his eyebrows at you, head slightly tilted to the side

“Sorry for just showing up, I know how much you hate that”

You smiled again, this time more naturally, a calmness settling into you. 

“You’re okay though, right?” his eyes were focused on your shaking hands when he took a step forward, and at the same time you took one back “Do you need anything? I can take you home if you want”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine” you were quick to add

“I’ll see you around then, I guess”

Please, god, you prayed silently, let me meet Jihoon again in my next life. 

“Bye, Jihoon”

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[dragon-kazansky]

Veil of the dreamless

Morpheus x Reader

A cursed Morpheus holds your father prisoner when he enters The Dreaming without permission. You, also able to enter the realm, take his place. Now a prionser to the Dream Lord, you do all you can to learn about the curse and hopefully break it.

{Masterlist}

{Next Chapter}

Chapter One - Village of the dreamless

☆☆☆

In a small village in the English countryside you lived with your father in his workshop. You had lived there all your life.

When your mother passed away your father threw himself into his inventions. The money he made from them was enough to keep a roof over your head, and it kept you fed.

You love your father. He is a wonderful man. There is nothing he wouldn't do for you.

You come downstairs and smile as you see him hunched over his desk. He's working on the clockwork of your cuckoo clock. The one he made you before you were born. Every so often, it needed fixing up.

"Is it going to work?" You ask, kissing his cheek softly and looking at all the parts.

"It will. Just needs some replacing."

You smile and grab your basket. "I'm going to head into town. Do you want anything while I'm out?"

"No, dear. I don't think so."

You chuckle softly and take your leave.

The village was alive today. People shopping, running errands, children playing games in the street. It was a lovely little village where everyone knew everyone.

Your dearest friend Robert, or Hob as you called him, was just opening his book store. He waves at you come over.

"Good morning."

You chuckle softly. "Morning, Hob."

"I have that book you asked for." He grins.

"Oh, thank you! I'll come get it on the way back."

"I'll hold it for you. How's your father?"

"He's well. Working hard," you tell him.

"Tell him I said thank you for mending my radio."

"Of course."

You wave at him as you walk on, a smile on your face. You pick up some groceries and some fresh bread from the bakery. You window shop at the tailor's and make a wish st the fountain in the square. On your way back, you pick up the book and leave Hob some goodies you picked up earlier.

As you make your way back home, you pass the tavern. It was early yet, but there was a woman waiting outside. She looked up at you and smiled as you walked past. You smiled back, trying to be friendly. The way she looked at you caused a shiver to run down your spine. You looked away to focus on the path, but risked a glance back. She was gone.

You shook it off and carried on walking.

Your father was still working away on his inventions when you returned. You put the groceries away and decided to start that book Hob gave you.

It's an old book about dreams. A rumoured realm called 'The Dreaming' or 'The Dreamscape'. Apparently, a long time ago, such a realm existed, and it allowed people to dream at night. Dreams were unheard of. Except for the kind which are considered wishes for the future, but as for Dreaming while asleep, they were not real. No one ever saw images or people or places while asleep.

You went to sleep, and you would wake up again later. That was it.

The concept of dreaming was fascinating to you. You recall a memory from your childhood. A memory of your mother. She once claimed she could dream, as could your father, but he always denied such a thing. People thought she was crazy. She would ask you every morning if you had dreamt, but your answer was always no.

She would smile and say "maybe next time."

Eventually, she got sick. They called it the Sleepy Sickness. She never woke up, and eventually, she died. Your father was distraught.

The idea of dreaming had played on your mind long after she passed away. When Hob opened his bookstore, you searched every shelf for anything on dreaming. He claimed to have nothing, but be knew of such a book.

It took him months to get it. Now it was in your hands.

A realm. A palace. A king.

It was hard to put the book down. This book was written long ago. The pages were handwritten. It was more of a journal than anything.

You're not sure how much time has passed. At some point, you fall asleep. When you wake, it's dark out. You find the book open on the sofa beside you. It had slid off your lap. You close it gently and grab it as you stand. You're about to make your way up to bed when you spot your father hunched over his desk. You chuckle.

"Father." You gently try to shake him awake. He doesn't budge. You chuckle and decide to just leave him. He has slept at his desk before.

You head on up to bed.

The next morning, you come downstairs, ready to make breakfast for you and your father. You reach the bottom stair and say cheerfully, "good morning, father!"

You are met with silence.

"Father? Good morning."

Still nothing.

You look around the house. He is not at his desk. He is not in the kitchen. He is not in the garden or near the vegetable patch beside the house. You see no sign of him along the patheading to your home. You frown.

There isn't even a note.

You grab your coat and decide to head into town. Perhaps you will find him at one of his favourite spots.

You pass the bakery, he is not there. You pass the tavern, too early to be open. You pass the tailors. He's only just unlocking the door. You reach the bookshop. Hob is open and awaiting customers. You pop in.

"Hello, Hob. Has my father come by?" You ask him.

"Haven't seen him. You're the first soul through my door today. Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm sure he's fine. He just wasn't at home when I woke up, and I didn't see a note. Perhaps he just went for a walk."

"He's probably already back at home." Hob offers you a smile. "How is the book?" He asks.

"Fascinating! Do you think it exists? The realm of dreams?"

He chuckles softly. "I do."

You catch the glint in his eye as he smiles. It's a cheeky smile, one that makes you wonder what kind of man Hob is. Despite knowing him for quite some time, there's still a lot you don't know about him.

"I'll try and finish it soon. I fell asleep reading it."

"Did you?" He asks curiously. "Did anything happen?"

"No. Well, except for my father leaving without a word. Though he's probably back at home, like you said."

Hob has a curious expression on his face. You're not quite sure what to make of it.

"Better head home and see."

You nod and smile softly. You can't help worrying, though. It's not like him to disappear without telling you. You head back home.

When you arrive at the house you find it juat ad empty as when you left. You sigh softly. Where had he gone? It wasn't like your father to leave without telling you. You peer out toward the shed. His wagon was still there, so he wasn't out on a job either.

Deciding to get something to eat and wait a while, you head to the kitchen. He would show up eventually, you were sure.

Hours passed.

Not a single sign of him. Hob came by to check in on you, but when he saw the look on your face, he grew concerned. He stayed with you until dark. He offered to sleep on the couch, but you told him to head on home. He left, telling you to contact him if you need him. You agreed.

The hour grew late. Your father did not appear. You become worried sick. Your worry eats away at you. You stay awake for hours. You try so hard to fight sleep, but you just can't leep your eyes open.

You fall asleep on the sofa.

You feel a gentle breeze on your face. You open your eyes and find yourself staring at a dark and cloudy sky. You take a few moments to ground yourself before sitting up. A small gasp escapes you as you find yourself staring at a palace. It's a tall, dark looking building, one in great disrepair by the looks of it. Windows were broken and a lot of the structure was damaged.

You're stand up and look across the long abandoned bridge that leads to the palace. You have no idea where you are, but suddenly, words from that journal come to mind. Descriptions of the palace that seem to match the one in front of you.

We're you... dreaming?

You look around. There is not another soul in sight. A caw can be heard from above you, and you look up in time to see a bird fly over you and into the palace.

You decide to follow it.

Passing over the bridge, you become filled with dread. There is no one else around. The place was dark and looked long since abandoned. This place was nothing the place you read about in that book.

You reach the doors to the palace and slip through the open crack between them. The main entrance is also empty and dark. Your footsteps echo through the room.

You only go in a few steps as you look around. "Hello? Is anyone home?" You called out. You get no response.

There is a fire lit nearby. You walk over and find an untouched glass of wine and an untouched plate of food. You look around cautiously. Something feels very wrong here.

You explore further into the palace. The sound of a bird flapping its wings echoes from down the hall. You decide to follow it. It almost feels like it's leading you somewhere.

You head down a dark hall and down a dark staircase. The whole place is poorly lit. However, venturing into the darkness proves to be worth it. You're lead to what looks like a cell. You rise over to the bars.

"Father?"

His head pops up, and he gasps. He joins you at the bars and grabs your hands.

"You can't be here!"

"What are you talking about? Where is this place? You've been gone all day!"

"A day...? Is that all?"

"What do you mean? Father, what's happening? Where are we?" You ask him desperately.

"You must leave!'

"Not without you. Tell me what's happening."

He looks at you with sad eyes. "I've been here for days... Time works differently here."

"What do you mean...?" You ask softly.

"We're in The Dreaming..."

You stare at him. "The Dreaming...?"

He nods his head. "Your mother did not lie to you when she said we could dream... her family has always been able to dream since the fall of the king. When I married her, her blessing was passed onto me, so it was inevitable you would gain this ability too."

"What are you talking about?" You plead with him to tell you.

"This is the Dreamscape. The realm of Dreams and Nightmares. The king of Dreams rules this realm. I didn't mean to come here, but I clearly wasn't strong enough to shut him out..."

"Father..."

"You're in danger just being here." He looks at you desperately. "You must go."

"I can't go without you! Come on, there has to be a way to get you out."

"No!" He yells in panic.

The sound of a door slamming open can be heard down the hall, and footsteps follow. You look into the dark.

"He's here..." Your father whispers.

"Who? Who is coming?"

"The Nightmare man..."

A figure lurks in the shadows, blanketed by the dark. You can just about make out someone standing there, but you can't see clearly what they look like.

"Another trespasser in my palace." His voice is deep and growly. He sounds angry. "Tresspassers will be punished."

You stand up tall and glare into the dark.

"Who are you? Show yourself!"

"Don't." You are father begs you.

"I am the King of Nightmares, and you shouldn't be here, little one."

"Let my father go!"

A moment of silence passes as you stare into the dark eyes watching you. His eyes are narrowed. He shifts. You catch sight of a feather.

"Show yourself. Come into the light."

Your father begs you to stop, but you don't listen. The figure in the dark steps out into the light and you feel all air leave your lungs.

The monster is real.

☆☆☆

@littleblackcatinwonderland - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @missdreamofendless -

[hxney-lemcn]

Runaway — Farmworld! Finn Mertens x gn! reader

summary: reader finds themself being pulled towards Finn like a magnet, but their advances seem unwanted and they flee in guilt. wanting to leave, they find themself in Prismo's cube.

tw: no vocal consent for a kiss, angst

a/n: this one may be triggering as the reader doesn't ask for consent to kiss, so skip this one if you aren't willing to read that (they don't force themself or anything, but always ask for consent before doing anything!!!!)

wc: 0.6k

Chapter Four

Master List | Chapter One

The sound of crackling fire was the only thing you could hear. The warm orange glow bathing the room in a soft gentle lighting. A cozy warmth overtook me, as the company I held was warm as well. It was late at night, Finn and I sitting together in front of the furnace. A ritual that seemed to have formed during my stay. 

The longer I stayed here, the more I questioned the entire situation. The thought of staying grew every day. Each day, the less I thought of home, and I grew to doubt that Prismo even knew my whereabouts. It’s gotten to the point where I wouldn’t care if that was the truth. I felt at home, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

I looked over to Finn from the corner of my eye. The orange glow hit his face so beautifully. His hat was nowhere to be seen, his blonde hair exposed. I knew that he was showing a more vulnerable side to him, as his hair was streaked with white highlights. I wasn’t told much, but with his aversion to the crown and the further evidence of white streaking his hair, I could only assume in this universe, he had worn the crown. Even Simon couldn’t escape his crown wearing self, as his hair also had a white streak in it. A constant reminder of the past. 

Finn met my gaze and I felt my blood pump faster. Neither of us backed down, and stared at the other with a sense of adoration. I didn’t even notice when our faces drew nearer, breaths mingling together. The crackling of the fire seemed to go louder, all my senses trying to focus on something to ground myself. I searched his eyes, no uncertainty to be found. 

I carefully placed my lips on top of his. They weren’t the softest, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Except for the fact that he was reciprocating. 

I pulled back, nearly falling to the floor due to the force. My heart beat faster, this time with fear instead of enamor. My entire body felt like it was on fire, my skin felt like it was crawling. Oh glob did I actually do that?

“I-i’m so sorry,” I said desperately, unable to meet his eyes. “I-I should’ve asked first and…glob I’m so sorry.” 

I stumbled back, nearly knocking into the kitchen table before running out the door, missing the fact that he reached his hand out to try and stop me from leaving. I ignored the chill of the outside air as I took to the sky, flying over the forest and away from the house. I wasn’t sure where I was going, only thinking about the weight I currently felt on my chest, and the tears that threatened to fall out of my eyes. When I felt far enough from the house, I descended into the forest, sitting under a tree. I rubbed my arms, trying to warm myself up.

I felt like a monster. How could I have done that? I thought I was better than that. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tugged at my hair, wanting to forget everything. A few tears fell before I stood up. I need to make a campfire, get my mind off of what happened until I can think more clearly. Gathering some big and small branches, I managed to get a decent sized fire going. I stared blankly into the flames, heart clenching at how just a few hours ago the situation was vastly different. Once the fire dwindled, I decided to lay down, wrapping my wings around myself like a blanket. Closing my eyes, I wished I could be anywhere but here. And like that, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

That was until my surroundings became a blinding white. And suddenly, I was in that familiar yellow cube, with a pink figure smiling sheepishly at me.

← Previous Chapter Farmworld Finn Ending | Original Finn Ending

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt3

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Class is over and I am finally back home so I can post this chapter here now lmao

Warnings: trauma, blood, blood drinking, violence, fear, self-destructive coping mechanism, emotional abuse, physical abuse (grabbing, pulling)

I can add more just lemme know what I missed <3

Word Count: 1,050

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AO3

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She haunts you again tonight. You could feel her hands running over your body, tugging your head to one side as she dug her teeth into the mark on your neck. You see her ruby red eyes, dark with desire for your blood, stare at you as she drinks, deeper and deeper until you can’t feel anything. Her smile, lips painted red with gore, as she coos you to unconsciousness.

You refuse another attempt at sleep. Your lids are heavy, your bones feel like jelly, but you can’t bear to go through this song and dance every night. You didn’t have her here to remove all rational thought and send you off into dreamlessness. And while it pleases you endlessly to be away, you wish for just one night where you don’t see her. The only time that’s happened so far was after Astarion came to you, begging for something more substantial to eat. His eyes, the same shade but somehow softer than hers, as he kissed your hand.

The moon and stars offered you no solace tonight. The moon was new - a shadow against the already-dark sky. The stars were covered by clouds. Laying still, on your back, made you restless. You could almost picture Kir Parthene crawling over you, straddling you between her legs.

Astarion finds you after his hunt, tending to the fire. It'd been close to cinders when he left, but now it burnt as though it'd never gone out. You threw dry twigs onto it and stoked it with a longer branch. He sat down next to you.

"If you keep staying up like this, dear, you won't be able to fight." His tone was teasing, but his eyes betrayed his concern. "Is it her again?"

You shudder and tighten yourself into a ball, protecting yourself from the dangers of the world. "I can't stop dreaming about her," you whisper. Your voice shakes; you're terrified of the hold she has over you. "She's always just... there. Lingering. Waiting."

The light flickers against you both. It's pleasantly warm. The shadows it throws only accentuate your exhaustion, deepening the circles forming under your eyes. Even Astarion doesn't look as tired as you.

The tadpole squirms behind your eye, swishing back and forth. You can feel Astarion's reaching out. "You don't want to see it."

"No," he agrees. "But I want to know." You look at him from the corner of your eye. His face is set. Serious. "Show me."

The tadpole doesn't stop wriggling as you think. You dig your fingers into your pants, searching for any way to ground yourself here, now, in this camp, surrounded by allies and friends. And you let him in.

He's immediately thrown into a memory - or perhaps something stitched together from your dreams. He sees through your eyes. He's terrified. His heart is racing against his ribcage, pounding so hard he's breathless.

The door slams open. A woman, tall and beautiful and vicious, marches in. "On the bed," she commands. It's almost a shout. He can't scramble fast enough. She grabs him by the hair and tosses him in the center.

But he doesn't make a sound. He knows, somehow, that screaming would only make it worse. Any sign of pain - she would tear you apart.

There is nothing erotic or sensual in the way she mounts you, grabbing your arm to pull your shoulder down as she rips your head to one side. He's suddenly aware of his nudity. He's on display, showing everyone just who he belongs to.

She digs her teeth into his throat, biting so hard and deep he fears she may rip out his jugular. She drinks deeply, messily. Blood drips steadily onto the bed. He can hear her gasping and sucking and- too much. It's too much.

His head spins, but he can't say anything. He can't feel his fingers, or his body. He can't feel anything. His eyes fight to stay open as he stares at the ceiling - an intricate painting of angels and devils lining the dome-shaped structure. And he's praying. He can feel it - thoughts just at the back of his mind, whispered a million times before, begging for anyone to save him. To spare his life. To live another day. Another hour.

Kir Parthene pulls away, drawing the blood on her chin to her lips with the swipe of a finger. She smiles. Wicked. Pleased. He wants to whimper and back away as she leans down, caressing his cheek and kissing his forehead, but he can't. He can't, because if he does, he'll be punished.

"My good pet," she purrs. "Sleep. Sleep, my precious little thing."

His head hurts as he's shot back to his own mind. He winces around the ache as he turns to you.

You're no longer shuddering. No longer gripping tightly to your pants. You stare into the fire with glazed over eyes. You're numb. Seeing it all again surpassed your fear and hollowed you out. Gutted you until you're nothing but a shell.

Regret and guilt sit uneasy in his chest. He reaches out slowly, delicately touching your arm.

And you gasp. Tears fall from your eyes in an instant, fear and the need to protect yourself turning to upset and sorrow. You shut your eyes tightly, hands rubbing roughly at the scar on your neck, like you'll remember you weren't bitten tonight. But you're going to scratch it open, and he's even more terrified of how you'll react if you do.

He grabs your wrists and hold your hands away. You fight against him, but not because you have to get away. You just need to feel that she's not there. "It's alright, love. You're alright. She's not here. She won't get you." He's not even worried about waking the others up - all he can focus on is you.

Slowly, your strength dies. You sob. It's ugly and broken, and more emotion than you'd ever let show around your master. He hushes you and lets go of your wrists to hold your shoulders. You cover your face. Your whole body shakes, wracked with each heaving breath.

"You're okay," he whispers again. He can hear shuffling as the others are awoken. He can't even begin to explain your pain to them. "You're safe. I promise."

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle

[sanctuary1988]

~ Secret Of Darkness |16| Gwi

French: /the petals of love/

Pairing: Gwi x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth? After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.

Warnings: fluff, angst, romance!, mentions of sex, love, confession, kissing, battling of emotions, TENSION!, flower is described to be shorter than Gwi, historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 3.4k words

A/N: Hello everyone! I know it has taken me some time to update (sorry about that) but I'll let you know why in another post later but like GUYS, I was so excited to publish this chapter I barely edited O.O Please excuse any grammar mistake, I'll fix it all tomorrow. Promise! ALSO, we are already +60k words 😲 so thank you all so much for all the support, love and enthusiasm this story has received, really thank you. I hope you like this chapter and again, thank you so much!

Enjoy, darlings❤️❤️❤️

Tagging: @my-day6 | @yumisventingmachine | @yukihatesreoyo | @anonymous2828 | @solivagant444 | @emneedshelp |🙈❤️*let me know if you liked to be tagged or if you want me to get you off my taglist!

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! I'd love to hear from you, loves. Enjoy! 🫶🫶🫶

The room was filled with the flickering, dying candles from the day before. The soft petals from the cherry blossom continued to fall on their endless crusade as you slept soundly next to Gwi. Nestled under the covers as your head rested on top of his bare chest. The warmth of his skin against yours kept you under a spell of dreamless rest. One of his hands rested behind his head while the other caressed your back in soothing motions, marvelling at the softness of your skin under his fingertips. Those large hands that had brought death to so many people over decades now held you with tenderness under the covers of your bed. 

The long hours of the night stretched on and even as he didn’t sleep, he kept every second of every minute completely mesmerised by your existence next to him. 

With a deep softness in his eyes he watched you sleep, taking in the details that marred your beauty. The way your lashes brushed over your skin, how your hair framed your face, the soft parting of your lips that he wished to kiss again. And the way your hand curled against his chest as if you were reaching for him even in your sleep. 

It was an image, a dream he could have lived in forever. A painting of perfection that softened the edges of his dark existence. 

Gwi shifted slightly, careful not to wake you as his hand moved to brush a stray cherry blossom petal that had landed on your shoulder. His fingers lingered there for a moment, tracing the line of your collarbone, savouring the intimacy of holding you so close it nearly hurt his frozen heart. You stirred but did not wake. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you snuggled closer to him in your sleep, seeking the warmth of his body as he held you closely. 

The sight stirred something deep inside him, something that had long been dormant. The way you trusted him so completely, so utterly, unaware of the danger you lay beside. You didn’t know what he was—what he truly was—and he intended to keep it that way.

His hand moved to your hair, his fingers tangling the silky (h/c) stands as he whispered words that were not meant for you to hear. Said only for the shadows to witness among his aching heart. 

“If only you knew… just how precious you are to me, petal.” 

The weight of his words hung heavy in the stillness of the room. There was a possessiveness in his voice, but also a tenderness that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime. You had changed something in him, stirred feelings he thought he had long since buried.

But with those feelings came a fierce protectiveness—a desire to shield you from everything, including the truth. You saw him as your protector, your lover, and that was all he wanted to be for you. You didn’t need to know about the darkness that coursed through his veins, the centuries of bloodshed and loneliness that had shaped him into what he was now.

You didn’t need to know that the man sleeping beside you, the man who held you oh so tenderly, the man who whispered sweet promises of eternal love; was not a man at all. 

Gwi’s hand stilled in your head as he leaned down and pressed a delicate kiss on the top of your head. The scent of you, the sweet blood that coursed through your veins, the rose scent that clung to your body like a shadow, the delectable aroma of the cherry blossom and the perfume of your skin was intoxicating to him in a way that made his fangs hurt in a way he had to fight to suppress. His eyes threatened to taint crimson with his desires and his pulse accelerated. 

But then, you stirred again, taking in a deep breath as your eyes fluttered open. You woke up slowly, feeling loved and warmth as a content hum escaped the back of your throat the moment you realised—you remembered—where you were. Who you were with. 

“Morning…”

It came out as a whisper, your voice still thick with the remnants of sleep as you shifted and looked up at Gwi. 

“Morning, my flower.”

His voice was low and smooth, the way it always was when he spoke to you. There was a moment of silence as you simply stared at each other in a soft waltz of spring love. Your fingers traced soft patterns over his chest as you basked in the warmth that surrounded you and the soft light of the flickering candles. 

“How long have you been awake?”

You asked, yawning cutely as you pressed yourself closer to him; if that was even possible. Gwi chuckled, a rare yet delicious deep sound that rumbled through his chest as his eyes never left yours. 

“A while.”

“You should have woken me up.”

One of his large hands came up, gently cradling your cheek in his large palm while his thumb ran over the smooth skin of your face. 

“I didn’t want to”

His fingers brushed a strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. 

“I wanted to let you rest, my sweet flower. You looked peaceful. It looks like I tired you too much last night.”

A deep blush tainted your cheeks at the mention of last night. You broke eye contact and he smirked lovingly down at your sudden shyness. You remembered his soft promises of love, his passionate touches and his kisses of fire. The way he had made you reach such euphoric sensations over and over again until you fell asleep in his arms. Gwi had awakened something primal within you, but it was something that had always been his to claim. Your pleasure was his to own and possess, and there was no-one else in the world you’d have given yourself to as you did to him last night. 

You smiled, feeling the love in his teasing words, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more behind his gaze. Something hidden in the depths of his eyes that he wasn’t telling you. But you dismissed the thought, choosing instead to sink back into the moment, the comfort of his touch and the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I could stay like this forever.”

He hummed softly at your murmured words after a beat of silence passed between you both. And yet his peace was shattered by your words. Forever was a powerful word. His eyes darkened as he looked down at your peaceful features relaxed next to him. And it became pretty obvious that that was the exact thing he couldn't give you. Forever. But the truth was like a shadow over a beautiful spring afternoon, obscuring the sun and shattering what little hope of happiness he had. 

For him, forever was real. But for you, the idea was far more fragile than what he could elaborate. 

Still, his arms tightened around you, wishing too that this single moment could stretch on to eternity. Gwi had to anchor his racing and anxious mind with the feel of your body against his as if he could keep you with him by sheer will alone despite the cruel inevitability of time. 

“You will always be mine, flower.”

His voice was soft, words whispered to the wind that was more of a promise to him than to you. And as the cherry blossoms continued their gentle descent, Gwi vowed once again to protect you from everything—even the truth—if it meant keeping you by his side.

You stood in your room, putting on a beautiful hanbok where the top was a delicate shade of coral pink, hugged your figure just enough to showcase its simplicity and grace. A ribbon tied neatly at the waist held the fabric in place, its pristine white accents framing the cuffs and collar, providing a gentle contrast to the vibrant top.

While the skirt flowed like a whisper around your legs, its soft beige fabric textured and light, catching the air with every movement you made. The skirt, full and graceful, seemed to glide along the ground, its layers revealing just the faintest hint of lace beneath, intricate and refined. The combination of textures, from the smooth silk of the jeogori to the gentle folds of the chima, gave you an ethereal quality, as though you were a vision from a forgotten era.

Gwi watched you with tender eyes as he lay on your bedding, his outer robe opened and displaying his honey skin beneath the fabric as he leaned on his elbow and watched you with a mixture of admiration and desire.

His keen eyes watched as you applied some rose powder on your cheeks, highlighting your cheeks. A cherry red paper was caught between your lips as you bit it softly to add colour to your kissable lips. 

“How are you so beautiful?”

His dark murmur made you freeze in your spot, your eyes flickered to him through the mirror as you smiled softly, adding more beauty to your already ethereal features the vampire was so enamoured with. 

“How are you so handsome?”

The vampire lord chuckled, the sound a deep and smooth, like a rumble from a fading thunder storm during summer. His dark eyes gleamed with a deep intensity, making you feel as if he could see right through the layers of soft fabric and straight into your very soul. 

“You flatter me,”

You gulped at the sound of his voice as it sent a shiver down your spine. Your eyes locked with his through the mirror.

“But no matter how handsome you think I am, it pales in comparison to the way you captivate me, petal. I could watch you for a thousand years and never tire of the sight.”

You turned from the mirror, your cheeks warming at his words, though you tried to play it off with a teasing smile.

“A thousand years? You do say the most impossible thing, Lord of my heart.”

His gaze darkened for a moment. A split second as he took in your shy words. He pushed himself up fully, standing in a slow, graceful movement that had you mesmerised. His robe slipped further open, exposing more of his toned chest, but it was his eyes that held you, deep and unwavering.

“And yet, here you are. Defying the impossible everytime I look at you.”

Gwi murmured as he stood behind you in just a few quick steps. One of his hands rested on your shoulder, his skin touching the fabric that covered your body from his eyes, his touch light but filled with reverence. 

Your eyes met his through the mirror once more, feeling the intensity in his gaze, the many things that were left unspoken between you both. For they existed in a language neither of you spoke but could only feel. His words, the way he looked at you—had a powerful weight to it. Something more than just the affection between lovers and tangled souls. Something deeper. Something darker. 

It was as if he spoke of things far beyond your understanding, of promises you hadn’t yet made but that he already felt.

His long, pale fingers found the delicate strands of your hair as it fell over your back, reaching near your hip as you looked at how mesmerised he was at simply touching you in such an innocent way. 

The candles flickered ominously as you observed the subtle line of concentration as he began playing with your hair. Running his fingers through the strands before he began twisting it and braiding it with a tenderness that belied the anger he had felt when he had taken you out of the burning mansion that once belonged to your father but was now left in crumbled ruins. 

His long fingers, usually so strong and decisive, now worked with surprising gentleness as he gathered strands of your hair and wove them together with a focus that made your heart flutter.

“I’m not doing it right, am I?”

He muttered, his tone uncharacteristically unsure. He paused in his braiding to look at his handiwork, a few strands slipping loose despite his careful efforts. You turned your head slightly, peeking at the mess he had made in the mirror, a soft laugh escaping your lips. 

“It’s perfect.”

You smiled up at him as you said it but Gwi huffed, not at all convinced yet your smile and the way you had laughed at the silly moment softened his frustration. He leaned forward, resting his chin on the top of your head as he looked at you through the mirror. 

“You are a terrible liar.”

A soft giggle escaped your lips and he adored the sound, loving the way your eyes squeezed at the action of laughing or how your nose scrunched ever so softly. 

“Perhaps, but it’s still sweet that you tried.”

Your hand held the slightly uneven braid before you stepped forward and reached over the small table next to the mirror for your red rose hairpin, the one he had given you what seemed like moons ago. 

Gwi watched as you rolled up the braid before you secured it with the hairpin, a few strands framed your face as you looked at your reflection and he was sure you were a portrait from an ancient dream of his. There was no way you were so beautiful, so enchanting before his eyes. You had a light within yourself. A light that reached even his dark world he had been drowning in for centuries. 

A sudden melancholy flashed through his eyes as he remembered the secret he held from you. The nature of his existence and how he could never tell you but knowing that, eventually, you are going to be aware of the monster that he is. And even if he could stop the sun from showing up everyday, there was no way he’d be able to hide it forever. 

His gaze lingered on your reflection a little too long, that unspoken weight you often saw hidden behind his affection glinting in his dark eyes. You turned around, your smile faltering a bit as you looked up at Gwi. 

“What is it?”

Gwi’s eyes shifted, the darkness in them deepening for a moment before he forced a smile that didn’t quite reach them. He straightened, pulling away slightly, his hands slipping from your shoulders to rest at his sides. His lips parted as if he wanted to answer, but no sound came. His silence filled the room, stretching between you like an invisible barrier.

You stepped closer, your fingers brushing the fabric of his robe, and the touch seemed to pull him back from whatever shadowed thoughts held him. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin with the same tenderness he had shown while braiding your hair. But now, there was something else in his gaze—something heavy, something unrelenting. A weight he carried alone, and you could feel it, even if you didn’t understand it. Or he didn’t let you understand. 

“Nothing.”

He had said. His voice was soft but tinged with shadows you weren’t able to chase away with your worrying gaze and deep love. It sounded strained, rehearsed even. 

“It’s nothing, my flower.”

But you knew he spoke lies with that deep voice of his you loved so much. There was a sadness within him, a grief he wore like an armour. A melancholy he had never let you touch, never let you truly see. But in moments like this, it slipped. His control, his composure, his walls of ice cracked beneath the pressure of your love and you began seeing, if only a glimpse of the dark secrets he carried within the heart you now treasured as your own life. 

“Don’t lie to me, love. I can see it in your eyes. There's something you are not telling me.”

His jaw clenched, and for a brief moment, you thought he might tell you the truth—whatever it was that lingered in the dark corners of his soul. But instead, he sighed, his hand falling from your face as he stepped back, putting distance between you that felt far more significant than just the space in the room.

“I’m not lying. There are simply things that I cannot explain.”

You stared up at him, his words sounded harsher than before. Cold. Detached. And you hated it how he pulled you so close you were suffocating within his existence or he pushed you away as if you were nothing but a burden in his complicated life. 

And yet, you couldn’t deny the pain his words carried. A pain that cuts through you like a knife. You wanted to reach out, to hold him and listen to whatever burdened his soul but you knew Gwi. you had known him for years now. He was a complicated man. A man of secrets. A man who carried knowledge and conscience that seemed from forgotten times. And you felt that no matter how close you were, how tenderly he held you nor how fiercely he protected you; there would always be parts of him that he’d keep in the shadows of his mind. 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He asked. He nearly pleaded. But his sentence only caused you to blink. 

“Like what?”

“Like I’m breaking your heart.”

His voice dropped, barely above a whisper and your heart clenched at the sight of him. Gwi's eyes, which once held you captive with their intensity, now seemed lost, distant, as though he stood on the edge of something he couldn’t face. His vulnerability, something he guarded so fiercely, cracked open for just a moment. A single second before his gaze hardened again. He took a deep breath and straightened up, running a hand through his dark locks. 

“I will not ask you to tell me something you don’t want. I have always respected you and I will always love you. Just know that I am here for you. If you ever feel you want to tell me something, love, I promise I’ll listen.”

Gwi smirked down at you. A smirk that was meant to tease you, to make you laugh as well. But you saw the devastation in his eyes at the simple action that tried to mask his burdening grief. 

“I know you will, petal.”

He leaned down toward you, his lips pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and you closed your eyes. Your hands itching to pull him closer, to allow him to feel the warmth of your love but he retreated too soon. As Gwi pulled away, the cold air of his absence wrapped around you like a shroud, and the gentle warmth of his kiss on your forehead faded too quickly. You opened your eyes, catching a glimpse of him retreating, the distance he created growing heavier with each step. You could feel it—the space between you becoming a chasm too vast to bridge, filled with the weight of the secrets he kept buried in his heart.

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at his broad back as he turned to face the imposing cherry blossom tree, the soft candlelight illuminating the sharp angles of his face. He was lost in his own world again, the one he wouldn’t let you touch. And even though you understood that Gwi was a man of mystery, a man tied to a past he seemed to run away from, it didn’t make the ache in your chest any less painful.

You stepped forward, standing next to him as your hand slipped into his bigger one. The touch warm against his cool skin as you stared at the tree of the pink petals as well. 

“I don’t need to know everything. I don’t care about your past. I don’t care what you have done or what you think you deserve. What matters is who you are now. Who you are with me.”

He turned to look down at you, the strength in his eyes staring at you that it nearly took your breath away. His hands squeezed yours. Knowing you spoke from a heart that was no longer yours. But despite all the love that now poured over him like a waterfall, he knew nothing would ever be the same if you were to know he was a vampire. 

“I will always be your protector. Your lover. The Lord of your heart. Forevermore.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder as you took in his presence, his strength, his secrets and his treasures. His shadows and his stars. 

“That’s all I need.”

September/13/2024

A/N: Want to be tagged? Let me know in the comments!

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My inbox is open, darlings! Or feel free to leave a comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts and inputs for the story! Take care, everyone 🫶

~ Masterpost

[starshideurfics]

Captive, Captivating, Part Five

Part 4

into the steddie-verse, omegaverse, dubcon, while being sickly sweet, mpreg, pregnant sex, mdni 🔞

They return to Rome with little fanfare, Geta focused on keeping Stepan safe from prying eyes until they are ready to announce their mating. And with his condition so readily apparent, Geta is even more vigilant, the couple entering the city at night and in disguise.

He has to bribe some palace servants and threaten others to make it to his rooms unnoticed, but it’s worth it to finally help his mate get comfortable in a proper bed, this mattress so much bigger and more luxurious than the one in his tent. Exhausted from their travels, especially the push this final day, Stepan struggles to remove his tunica. Geta steps in to help, and freezes with his hand pressed to his mate’s belly.

Stepan smiles, warm and sweet, covering Geta’s hand with his own. “You feel it?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Geta nods and sinks to his knees. “This must be a good sign, yes?” To feel his pup for the first time now he’s home seems auspicious, no matter how solid the pit in his stomach is at being within 100 miles of his brother again. The movement under his hand becomes his only care in the world, at least in this moment, and his minor jealousy that Stepan has felt the pup for nearly a month abates completely.

“I hope so.”

The kicks slow to a stop, their pup shifting into a new position. Geta presses a kiss to Stepan’s belly, and Stepan idly pets Geta’s hair. “I am sorry, my sweet, I know you are tired,” Geta murmurs, still holding his belly, needing to be close to his child.

“You can still hold us once we are in bed, Geta.”

He looks up to see Stepan smiling fondly down at him and his stomach swoops. “But I must let you go in order to get there, and I do not wish to.” Geta presses his face back into Stepan’s belly, breathing his concentrated scent and purring.

Stepan tugs hard at the hairs at the nape of his neck, forcing his gaze back up. “We need to sleep. So we are both ready for tomorrow.”

“You are right, mellitus. As always.” Geta forces himself to release his mate and get back on his feet. He helps Stepan from his tunica, then strips off his own, arranging pillows to make sure Stepan is comfortable and supported in their bed, before slotting in behind him.

Geta sleeps deep and dreamless, and wakes to golden sunlight entering through the windows. Stepan still sleeps peacefully in his arms, at least until the door bursts open.

His mother sweeps into the room, fixing Geta with a pointed glare, quickly taking in every aspect of the room. “Truly, Geta, you sneak home, no word to let me know you’ve arrived, but you have time to find a courtesan to warm your bed?”

He feels Stepan stiffen under his touch, and Geta leans forward to kiss over his bonding bite. “Sorry to surprise you, Mother, but I wanted to keep him to myself a little longer.” Another kiss to Stepan’s hair before he slips from the bed. Geta plucks up a robe, drapes it over his shoulders, but pushes it open enough to show off his bite. “Stephanos is my mate.”

“Is that supposed to be better? Choosing a mate without your father’s blessing! How do you know you were not summoned for a marriage? You could have ruined months of negotiations.”

Geta smiles, can tell his mother is not truly angry. “Because you would say so, Mother. And because Father is more worried with Caracalla and conquest.” He goes to her, takes her delicate hands in his, and flashes a conspiratorial wink. “Besides, my mate is a prince by birth, and more importantly, he is carrying your grandchild.”

“Then I am sure your father will be most pleased, just ensure he looks the part when you present him. We shall be eating together in an hour.” She cups his cheek, guides his face down so she may kiss his forehead. “Now introduce me to your omega.”

Geta fetches a robe for Stepan, keeps him covered as he crawls from the bed, and wraps him in the silk, keeping a hand over his bump as he presents him. “Mother, this is Stephanos. Mellitus, meet my mother, Empress Julia Domna.”

Julia’s dark eyes take Stepan in as she circles them. “He is quite lovely, Geta. And tall.” Her hands gently hold Stepan at the sides of his belly, silently gauging the progress of his pregnancy. She turns her full attention to Stepan and asks, “You have felt the quickening?”

“Nearly a month ago, your grace.”

“Good. We shall hire you a personal midwife, to make sure you and the pup are healthy.” Her hands move up his body, feeling his small breasts, along his neck and ears, pulling on his chin so she may look at his teeth. “And where are you from that you have such pretty Latin?”

“Scythia. We speak Latin for the sake of trade, and my father hired a native speaker to teach my siblings and me.”

Geta purrs, proud of his mate for being so well composed in front of his mother. Which, of course, draws her attention to him again. “I’ll leave you to dress; best you move quickly so you can beat your brother to your father’s dining room.” His mother pats his cheek, and turns to leave just as quickly as she’d arrived.

“Your mother is intense,” Stepan murmurs softly, fingers seeking Geta’s where they rest over his belly.

“She is clever. Like you, mellitus.” Geta turns him in his arms, delicately holds his chin, and kisses him lazy and sweet. “And she is right. You must look the part when you meet my father.”

He starts with jewelry—rings, bangles, armbands, and necklaces—all gold and set with pearls that practically glow against Stepan’s skin. Geta doesn’t know much, but he helps Stepan braid his hair, tying the plaits into a knot at the back of his head, making plans to find a skilled ornatrix for his omega. Finally, he fetches a tunica the color of the sea, made of the finest silk, so thin it clings to every curve. He removes one of the brooches from the neck, leaving it more open on the left side, the fabric draping beautifully to show off his left breast in imitation of Venus Genetrix.

To show what he is meant to be: The Mother of Rome.

🌙🏛️🌿

Stepan looks down at himself, confused. “This is how you want to present me to your father?” Among his people, baring a single breast would mark him as a warrior, and while he has been trained to fight, he does not see the logic in drawing attention to that.

“Yes. You have the beauty of Venus, and I want him to know exactly what you are to me.” Geta traces a finger around his mating bite, his other hand cradling the side of his belly. “And what you are to him. The continuation of his dynasty.”

Throat tight, Stepan merely nods, tucking his nose to Geta’s neck as his mate holds him close. Then he’s deposited on the bed to wait as Geta dresses himself in an imperial purple tunica, slipping golden cuffs on his wrists and studding his fingers with rings. But beside Stepan, he looks almost plain.

Hand in hand, they make their way to the triclinium, passing servants and slaves, arriving to an empty room. Geta makes himself comfortable, sprawling on one of the klinē, and has Stepan sit beside him, protective hand over his belly. “Everything will be alright, mellitus. You will charm my father, and then we may rest properly. Tomorrow, I thought we might go to the palace baths, and after that I will show you Rome.”

Stepan reaches to play with Geta’s hair, fingers sliding through his short waves. “What greater part of Rome could you show me than the palace?” he asks, only half teasing. The little bit of the city that he saw in the dark was more than he could rightly imagine before he passed through the gates.

“The Colosseum and the Circus Maximus. We’ll go to gladiatorial games, chariot races. The Forum and the Pantheon. There is so-”

“Well, aren’t you a sight,” a warm voice says from the doorway, drawing their eyes. Grey hair and a full beard show Stepan how his husband may look in a handful of decades, as Emperor Severus enters the room. He is handsome, obviously spry and strong as he crosses to stand before them. “My son may have gone behind my back to claim you, Stephanos, but I cannot blame him,” he says, taking Stepan’s hands in his. “We shall have to wed you properly here in Rome before my campaign in Caledonia.”

Stepan simply bows his head in agreement, caught off guard by Geta’s father already knowing his name. Looking up past his lashes, he sees Julia Domna in the doorway, cryptic smile on her face.

“Of course, Father,” Geta says, maneuvering himself off the back of the klinē while keeping a grounding hand on Stepan. “Are you certain you should be going so far north? Mother wrote-”

“Mother worries too much over my health!” He claps Geta on the shoulder, laugh booming. “It was a mere fever and I am fine now.”

“A fever that left you delirious for three days straight! That kept you abed for more than a month,” Julia counters fiercely, practically shaking with frustration as she enters the room.

Severus reaches for his empress, tugs her into his chest. “And I am fine now, mellita.” He kisses her brow, but she stares up at him with fire still in her eyes. “You do not worry so when I am on the battlefield, but a fever has you thinking I am a frail old man!” He laughs again and grabs her hips, all but ruts against her. “You know I am not frail.” More laughter as he relaxes his hold and turns out to face the room. “I do admit I am old.”

“Father!” Geta scolds. Stepan understands; he does not wish to think of his parents dying either.

“Even an emperor cannot live forever. Many hardly live at all.” Severus wets his lips and swallows hard. “It is good you have found a suitable mate, Geta. It strengthens my desire you raise you up, and will hopefully calm the senate.”

“What?” Geta breathes.

“I think it best both you and your brother rule with me now. Especially since there is a pup on the way.”

Another outburst from the doorway. “You cannot be serious, Father!” The opulence of his clothes may explain Caracalla’s lateness, taking far longer to dress in his elaborate toga, but the sneer on his face looks near-permanent. “Geta goes off, pups a foreign whore, and you want to name him Augustus!”

Geta growls. Stepan holds him in place, shifts his hand so his alpha can feel their pup moving within him. Anything to stop him from going feral and challenging his brother.

It is the empress who shouts first. “Antoninus! You are not to disrespect Stephanos! He has already done more for the future of the empire than your wife ever managed.”

“How long is it since you had Plautilla banished, Brother?” Geta asks, his tone falsely light. “Three years? Four? And still no replacement.”

Caracalla snarls and lunges.

Stepan flinches.

Severus growls, catches his eldest by the shoulder, and scruffs him. “Be grateful your brother has been fruitful. The pup in that omega’s belly shall be your heir as well.”

Caracalla whines, teeth still bared. Severus lets him go, snaps his fingers, and a slave enters with a tray of olives, grapes, and soft cheese. The tension in the room remains thick, but Severus smiles, confident in his control. He looks to Stepan and his smile turns apologetic. “I’m sure Geta already warned you about how he and his brother snipe at one another. Let’s not allow it to ruin our appetites; the pup must have you ravenous by now.”

Stepan smiles, nods, and forces himself to eat.

🌙🏛️🌿

Keeping his promise, after the mixed welcome from his family Geta takes Stepan back to their rooms, fully intending to let his mate rest until the evening meal.

His mother has other plans.

She swans into the room with a group of omega servants, chirping, “You cannot keep dressing your wife in your own clothing, Geta. He must have proper stolae and tunicae befitting his status.” She turns to Stepan. “Do you spin? Weave?”

“Yes, but I am not very skilled.”

“Then you shall practice. I shall have a loom set up for you next to mine in the atrium, but of course we do not expect you to create your own wardrobe.” She waves over an omega girl of about fifteen, has her gauge Stepan’s measurements. “We shall have to go to an artisan for something ready-made that is suitable for your wedding clothes.” She cups his cheek, tucks back a strand of hair that escaped his braid. “I’ve a girl who can see to your hair, I’ll send her to you later.” Her attention turns again to his pregnant belly, touch light as she holds him. “And I’ve sent for a midwife; she should be staying at the palace until after you deliver.”

In less than a day, she has secured everything Geta had planned to find for Stepan, when she hadn’t so much as known he’d existed last night. “Thank you, Mother,” Geta murmurs, stepping in to kiss her cheek before possessively wrapping his arms around his mate from behind. “We appreciate all you gave done and are doing, but Stephanos needs rest. The journey was hard and the pup disturbs his sleep.”

“I’m sure all you will do is rest,” Julia responds, knowing glint in her eyes.

“Mother!”

“There is no shame in an alpha wanting his omega, my son. And I’ve no doubt you are tending to his needs as well.”

Geta flushes hot and his mother laughs. “We will talk more at supper,” she finishes. Then with a wave and snap of her fingers, she leaves as quickly as she arrived.

Stepan turns in Geta’s arms to face him. “I quite like your mother,” he says, suppressing a giggle as he rests his head on Geta’s shoulder.

“I knew you would.” He’s desperate to kiss his pretty wife, equally desperate to keep him relaxed, and settles for nuzzling into his hair and pressing soft lips to his temple.

“And while I would like to have a nap, I was also hoping you would touch me sweetly, Husband.”

“You know I will do so gladly, mellitus.” Were he not worried about the pup, Geta would sweep Stepan into his arms and carry him to bed. But he is, so he carefully guides his mate back until he can sit at the foot of the bed, still looking like a goddess on earth. Geta can’t help himself then, moaning as he takes most of Stepan’s small, bared breast into his mouth, using his tongue and teeth on him. His goal is not to arouse, simply to connect, to be close to his mate and worship the place their pup will nurse.

Stepan sighs, fingers curling in Geta’s hair. “Harder, Geta. Please.”

His intentions shift, mouth suctioning around the stiff bud of Stepan’s nipple, hand coming up to grip his neck, to press his thumb into his mating gland. More little, mewling sighs follow. Geta pulls off with a gasp and groans, “Need to see you. All of you.” The clinging silk leaves next to nothing to the imagination, but Geta needs to gaze upon warm skin, to be as close as possible to his pup when his hands next cover Stepan’s belly.

Geta helps Stepan wriggle from his tunica, throwing the garment aside, hungry eyes roving over his naked body. He is still gilded, covered in gold up his arms and hanging from his neck, shining like the sun. “So lovely, my omega,” Geta murmurs, kissing him softly, bracketing his belly with warm hands. “Do you want my mouth on your perfect cunt? Or do you need to be filled? Should I seat you on my cock and suck your pretty tits?”

“Alpha…” Stepan whines, one hand clutching at Geta’s shoulder, the other fumbling for his cock under his tunica. “Fill me. Need to feel you inside.” He mouths wetly at Geta’s neck, kisses sloppily up to his ear and nips at the lobe.

Geta loves having his mate so desperate and needy, loves how good Stepan has become at asking for what he wants. Loves the feeling of Stepan tugging at his clothes, of a too-tight squeeze around his cock. Loves the slide of slick under his fingers as he teases Stepan’s already pulsing cunt. His tunica joins the silk on the floor, a regal mess of color ready to tangle together.

Reclining against the pillows, Geta gives his cock a few cursory tugs, and reaches for Stepan’s hand, helping him to his throne. No mater how many times he is engulfed by his mate’s sweet heat, Geta knows it will always overwhelm him to be taken into Venus’s embrace, to be taken into the cunt that was made for him.

Stepan sinks down with a moan, wordless yet Geta understands him perfectly. “I know, mellitus,” he croons, peppering kisses over his collarbones and kneading a soft breast. “Take what you need.”

He rides him slow, each languid shift of his hips just enough for them both to build towards a gentle crest, Stepan’s peak coming in waves as slick dribbles in a steady stream from his prick. Geta follows him, knot swelling, hands cradling their pup, little feet kicking under his palm. Tears fill his eyes, his body tingles as the intensity of his orgasm dissipates and his sweat cools on his skin.

Stepan’s hands cover his, holding their pup together. “Geta…” he whispers, collapsing forward to rest his forehead on his alpha’s shoulder.

“I know, amore. I know.”

[brandileigh2003]

FFF 258: Milky Way dreams

Decided to go very literal

Fandom: harry potter. Marauders

Ship: Sirius Black/remus Lupin

Word count: 600

CW: werewolf transformation

With the dawn Sirius watched in his animagus form as his boyfriend started screaming and went through the process of changing back into his human self. The seconds seemed to drag on and Sirius could never decide which was worse, watching him transform into Moony, or back into himself. (It probably depended on what he was currently seeing.) Once every trace of the wolf was gone, he transformed into his human self and went over to check for any wounds he may have missed and any bones that didn’t set right. He seemed to be okay for the most part, and finally opened his eyes with a groan.

Sirius summoned his bag and helped him drink a pain potion and a mild sleeping potion and then once Remus nodded, he side-along apparated them back to their apartment. He settled Remus into bed, and got a glass of water, some soup and some tea and after placing them under a stasis charm, he curled into Remus’ side and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

When he woke, it was to the afternoon light shining through the window and Remus muttering. Sirius checked for fever and tried to listen to what Remus was saying. He didn’t know if he was in pain, or having a bad dream, and was prepared for either or for him to wake up hungry and thirsty after his long night.

At first he couldn’t make out anything but then something that sounded like “milky way,” then “chocolate and caramel” a minute later. He chuckled and summoned a parchment and called for their owl.

Is there candy called a milky way? And does anyone have a moment to send one over if there is?

He sent it off to Lily and hoped she knew or could ask.

Because he always wanted to give Remus whatever he wanted, and often felt so helpless on the full moons. The time before, during and right after, Remus was in pain, and even though he tried to hide it, Sirius basically had a degree in reading the subtleties of Remus. So, he brewed the pain and sleeping potions, scoured for research being done on lycanthropy so that maybe something else could help the man he loved.

He looked for any opportunities to do something that might make Remus smile, including trying to figure out if his man was dreaming about chocolate and try to obtain it.

With the help of Lily, he was able to do just that when they both woke later in the day.

“How did you know?” Remus asked, biting into the candy bar with a moan.

“Did you happen to be dreaming about one?” Sirius laughed and kissed Remus’ cheek.

“Ha! Yeah, perhaps.” Remus finished his candy bar and snuggled into Sirius’ side.

“I love you so much, and I don’t know what I did in a previous life to deserve someone like you,” Remus muttered into his neck.

Sirius shivered and grinned at the thought that they could have been together in past lives, and wondered what they might look like. He hoped that they were happy, and that most of them didn’t involve the war brewing. And he desperately wished that if another did, and another version of them knew how to stop it all, they would send some kind of sign.

He woke the next morning with a thought weighing heavily on his mind: Trust Remus.

And he didn’t know what could happen that would make him not trust the beautiful kind soul in his arms, but he vowed to not let anything come between them.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 102 }

home is calling.

barnabas tharmr x fem.reader

{ on dreamless nights when i feel blue and lonely, i call out for you- home is calling out my name. }

she was lost in the midst of the chaos.

"my love, where are you?!"

the flames that surround the kingdom that was once her home chokes her, the black smoke lifting up toward the air as it seemed to mar each and every one of her senses. surrounding her was a hellfire blaze that turned all that she loved into ashes.

yet she found herself not caring, for all she wanted to see was him, the one who gave her the utmost strength in the most trying of times. the man who accepted her love, and made her dreams come true the moment it had been requited.

despite how she could feel the flames licking at her skin, the woman pushes forward, uncaring of the wounds she would sustain so long as she could forever remain by his side. for if her beloved was no longer a part of this world-

then she would have nothing to live for.

smoke was quickly filling at her lungs, making the tears dot her vision as it seemed to blind her. it was suffocating, getting so much harder to breathe due to the heat of the flames and the destruction left at its wake.

yet still, she pushes forward.

her cries and aching feet lead her to the great hall, where she was certain her beloved remains as she pushes the door open. as her eyes trail towards the front of the room, hope began to blossom from within, filling at her veins upon seeing his familiar form settled against the throne.

"barnabas!" his name falls from her parted lips, tasting as sweet as a reverent prayer when she comes to him, ready to take him in her arms and away from the wreckage had it not been for the truth that ends up stopping her.

his eyes were lifeless, the once powerful, steel blue gaze lost within the expanse of darkness. he was unseeing, with a trail of blood trickling down from the corner of his open lips, as if he had been crying out to someone just as the dagger was driven straight into his heart. midnight locks of hair appeared like ink when they fell across his ashen face, and her heart was pounding, pumping ice through her very veins when she reaches out to him.

his name falls from her lips once more, this time with an anguished cry. gently, oh so gently, she takes her beloved king within her arms, slumping against the cobblestone floors with him. she holds his lifeless form tightly against her, cradling his head within her chest while crying, holding on to him as the world went up in flames.

it was a cruel world, their people not wishing to give her king even the slightest chance as they made their revolution against him evident. they had destroyed everything she had ever held dear to her, yet, the young queen found herself not caring, for at least she could perish peacefully while embracing him.

she clenches her eyes shut, placing her chapped lips against his temple, kissing him one last time as she murmurs to him, "the world is on fire, but i don't care-as long as we are together..."

the flames had risen now, the ash and fire spreading as she presses her lips against his cold ones, tasting the coppery taste of blood as she said against his lips, "let's perish together, my love."

{ ... }

a startled gasp was ripped from her throat, her heart pounding as she could still feel the pinpricks of agony coursing through her veins. her skin was hot to the touch, becoming damp with a considerable sheen of sweat.

tears were streaming down her face, the pain of losing him becoming so palatable that she couldn't even breathe. as if recalling that it was all just a dream, she looks over to her right to see her husband sleeping peacefully beside her.

his arm was laid across his eyes, and she could see the way his chest rose and fell in tune with his soft breaths. biting down on her bottom lip, she chokes back a sob before landing on top of his form. she could hear the light grunt that escapes from his lips, yet she was too desperate to bask in his mere presence alone to realize how quickly she had awakened him. hiding her face within the curve of his neck, she breathes in the scent of steel and the ocean wafting off of his tan skin, running her lips across it all while saying his name.

"barnabas...barnabas, i-i..."

"what's the matter with you?" his voice was hoarse, becoming a tad bit grumpy from being awakened so suddenly. yet the moment he could feel her salty tears dropping against his skin like rain, his response was immediate.

the king of waloed wraps his arms around her, blue eyes losing its hazy quality due to sleep as he allows the tip of his nose to run against her hair. he calls out to her in an uncharacteristically soft voice. "what happened? why are you crying so much?"

she takes a moment to bask in the way his hands drew gentle circles around her back. his warmth was steadily seeping through her veins, yet still, she made sure to breathe him in. while she was holding barnabas tightly, he lets out a soft grunt of her name, all while adjusting himself so that he was sitting up in bed.

the deep burgundy mantles falls off their forms, and barnabas remains quiet, allowing his wife to run her lips along his skin, tracing against the curve of his neck to his shoulder. he lets out a huff, tracing his nose against the crown of her hair as he waited patiently for his queen to tell him what was bothering her.

barnabas' skin had become damp from the sheer amount of her tears, yet still, he held on to her, never letting her go as he kept whispering comforting phrases to her. after what felt like an eternity of being subjected to her tears, he hears her voice whispering, making him strain his ears to hear her. "i had a nightmare that you had died, that our kingdom was drowned in the flames of a revolution a-and someone had killed y-you w-with a d-dagger through the heart!"

the anguish was evident in her tone, and barnabas listens as she broke down once more. he remains silent, simply tightening his hold on her as he allows his wife to cry on him.

"just seeing your lifeless eyes and ashen skin t-tore me apart! the fact that y-you were no longer with me made my soul ache as i cried for you. i cried so m-much because if you w-were no longer here with me, i would never be able to bask in your embrace, would never to feel like i was home ever a-"

when barnabas had enough of hearing her words of agony, he takes a hold of her chin, deep blue eyes unreadable as he let out a murmur of her name. his eyes were lidded, leaning closer to her as he captures her lips in a searing kiss. he could taste the saltiness of her tears lingering against her skin, and despite how much she was crying, all barnabas could taste was hope and love wafting off of her.

the need for air proved to be too strong when he feels his wife pull away from the kiss first, making him let out a grunt of displeasure when he chases after her lips. he feels the way she whimpers against him, hiccuping as barnabas whispers against her lips, "aye, what a silly woman you are, crying over what happened in a mere dream."

barnabas adjusts his hold on her, allowing her to settle herself against his lap. the tears were still brimming against her eyes, cascading down her dampened cheeks like crystalline tears. he repeats her name again, allowing the pad of his thumb to trace at her bottom lip. "when i was a mere boy, i lost my mother. her absence left a deep wound in my heart and soul, and i felt as though i would never find a place to call home ever again."

her lips begin to tremble again, recalling barnabas' stories pertaining to his mother. how she was a beautiful woman with a kind soul; one who loved him unconditionally. the way barnabas had described her, the queen knew that she was truly his entire universe.

"i was lost without her, willing to do almost anything to see her again. for i truly believed that my mother was the only woman who could ever love me. i was almost going mad with the desire to see her again- but then, i met you."

he frames at her face, looking deeply into his beloved's eyes, the pad of his thumb now stroking at the bottom of her eyes, wiping away at her tears. a tiny smile crosses his features, the sight of it being so beautiful that it was enough to take her very breath away.

"you who fell into my life when i needed you the most." barnabas shakes his head while threading his fingers through her hair, pulling her even closer to him as he presses his lips against hers, tasting her as he begged her to open up for him. she whimpers, practically melting against her beloved as he continued to comfort her with his love and affections.

he pulls away from her once more, steel blue eyes shining with mirth, "your dreams are all false, my love. for i shall never leave your side. you are stuck with me for the rest of our lifetimes. and i swear to you, the only time i will die is when i am in your arms, turning old and grey as thy soul leaves thy form-"

"and even in death, i will still find you. we are still bound, and that is the oath we have taken when we tied our lives together."

the young woman was deeply comforted by his words, surging forward as she wrapped her arms around his neck. barnabas responds with a quiet chuckle, returning her embrace while pressing his lips against her skin, giving them soft, chaste kisses. he allows her to hide her face within his neck for a few more moments before using his strength to pull her away from him.

she gives him a questioning glance, earning a smirk from barnabas when he reaches towards her face, kissing away her tears with a plethora of kisses. audible smooches were heard, and she could feel the faint hairs that border the fringes of his face tickling at her soft skin, making her giggle in response, her melancholic state all but forgotten in an instant.

with her clinging on to barnabas' chest, he pulls away from her, not saying a word. but truly, no words needed to be said, for shining in his gaze was an emotion she was certain was reflected even in her own eyes-

love.

a.n. - don't mind me, i wrote this simply as a reminder that i will always always always love barnabas tharmr 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[i-dream-of-libraries]

Boredom was one of Harry's greatest enemies. He was so used to his full days of classes, Quidditch practice, hanging out with friends, and now - DA meetings. Even though Umbridge was gone and they'd all start his 6th year at Hogwarts with some new Defense professor; Harry was less than optimistic at this point about the competence of whomever was hired. DA meetings would likely continue next term. Harry just had to make it til then. The problem though, again - was the boredom. It led to him napping during the day and lying awake most of the night.

His mind was not kind to him at night. It churned nauseatingly between memories of his hand splitting and dripping blood from that damned quill and Sirius falling through the veil. Every now and then he'd also see himself (unsuccessfully) Crucio Bellatrix and berate himself for not being able to properly avenge his godfather. Or would Sirius be ashamed of him for using an Unforgivable curse in his grief? Harry wished he could just sleep until school started and he had some distraction from these pointless and painful night-time thoughts.

It was then that things - rather on brand for his life - got worse. Harry Potter a sibilant voice hissed through his mind. Great. Just fucking great. "Good evening Voldemort. What brings you to my skull tonight? Also; how?" He said aloud. There was a beat of silence where Harry felt a shadow of something like surprise before the voice answered.

I have already been inside you once; it is not very difficult to slip in again as I please. Particularly when you're in such a vulnerable state.

"Oddly sexual explanation, but ok. What can I do for you tonight, nemesis-mine?" He tucked his hands under his head and considered whether he was hallucinating this whole thing. He really did need to look into mind healers.

Your anxious flurry of emotions are and have been disturbing my work. I use these hours when others are asleep to attend to delicate matters undisturbed. Go to sleep. Use a Dreamless Sleep potion if you must.

"Ah, no can do, I'm afraid. I live with my muggle relatives without access to magic of any kind. I guess you'll just have to live with it like I've learned to live with the massive headaches I get whenever you're having a tantrum." His reply was probably a bit too flippant and was going to result in the aforementioned headache, but a vindictive part of him was glad to be causing difficulties for Voldemort. The man caused plenty for him.

- Stress Relief by Possession