#it makes me tremble and teary to think that we brought these children to a world and they cannot survive in

[drschnauzer]

.

[angelamajiki]

PARINGS: Pro Hero! Dabi x Sister! Reader

TW: yandere, incest, no con, voyeurism, choking, burning, unprotected/no prep sex, breeding/creampies, snowballing, public sex, degradation, lots of dirty talk

AN: WHEEWW my first fic in a while, so excited for my first join intro collab!! thank you to the lovely jo for writing it <33 enjoy

A BNHarem Server Collab! Check out the other works here.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

Christ, what a load of bullshit the news was nowadays. Constantly whining and squealing about what heroes did and didn’t do, promoting fear-mongering like it was the hottest trend. Between your father and two older brothers dedicating their life to the cause of justice, the world always felt just a little safer to you, the naive little thing that you were. And tonight was no exception.

Despite the rapidly increasing crime rates, your judgment to grab a couple of drinks in the city with your friends was hardly swayed. The stress of it all was getting to you and you’d love nothing more to drink your heart out at one of the few spots still left open. It was a sleazy place, but it was fun. If anything, you found a bar in the area where your eldest brother was currently stationed patrolling.

Touya had always been protective of you ever since the two of you were children, and he carried that same possessiveness well into your adulthood. Always chasing off any potential suitors, keeping you out of trouble, and generally being a menace to anyone who thought they were good enough to be around his favorite little sister.

By the end of the night, stumbling around drunkenly was the only thing keeping you upright as you made your way out of the club and onto the street, looking for a taxi to get you home. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, a mess of blue and red lighting up the darkened streets.

“Hey sweetheart. Need a hand?”

Grubby hands met your arms the same time the cool air of the night did, tugging and pulling at you to come closer, wherever that may be. Jaunts and laughter echoed off the buildings, only adding to the haziness the alcohol induced. “What’s a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here all on your lonesome?”

Weak attempts to push the group of assaulters off you were in vain as they groped and squeezed your body at their pleasure. “Come on, we’re just trying to keep ya company. Right, boys?”

“Stop..”

Your whine came across much more pathetic than you could have ever hoped, only earning more chuckles from the men. “Just relax, sweetheart. We’ll take good care of you.”

Blue flames danced around the group of you, closing the lot of you against the building wall in a small circle of fire.

“Will you now? Last I checked, I'm the only man suited for that.” Touya was less than amused to have found out from Fuyumi that you traveled into the city given its state, even more so when he saw how drunk and disorderly you were being.

“T-Touya-nii!”

The men untangled themselves from you with ease, tossing you into the arms of your expectant brother, who was more than glad to pull you into a tight embrace. “Shit! It's the number three, Heatstroke!”

The comforting warmth of his body and scent of his cologne settled your frantic nerves, tucking yourself closer into his arms. “Honestly, it’s like you're asking for it at this point.”

Your heart sank low in your chest, but you couldn't find the strength to move away from him as he scowled down at you.

“Look at what you're wearing, you little tease. Bet you would have loved to have them violate you, huh slut?”

Never has Touya been so venomous with you before; it made your heart hurt, even more, to see your beloved nii-san be so cruel.

“Don’t you worry, that’s why your big brother is here to show you who you really belong to.”

Shoved against the wall, he pinned your trembling form with his right knee in between your legs and his hands wandering over your skimpy dress.

“You boys can stick around to watch; let a real man show you how it's done.”

Flames singed at your dress, burning it to ashes to expose you in the cool wind of the night. Hot fingers pressed into your skin, littering marks in their wake before they wrapped around your throat. “You were just begging for nii-san to come to save your slutty ass, huh, princess? I know you checked my patrol schedule before ending up at this dive.”

His hand tightened around your neck, his lips at your ear. “Wanted nii-san to come put you in your place, yeah? After fuckin’ teasing me all these years, you finally cracked me. Are you proud of yourself, little girl?”

A whine slipped from your constricted throat, your smaller hand gripping at the large one squeezing you with everything it had. “And now you've got an audience to witness my ownership over you. You're mine, little girl.”

Finally releasing your throat, his hands traveled down to your chest and groped at your roughly, pinching and pulling at your soft, sensitive nipples. Bile was rising in your throat as you drowned in your own fear, feeling him drag you into the depths of depravity.

“What’s the matter, imouto? I thought you said I was your favorite. You're hurting my feelings, y’know.”

“Touya, please-”

A scoff slapped you hard in the face as his knee jerked up against your cunt. “Don’t start with me. I know who you really are and what you really want, even better than yourself.”

His words stabbed at your heart, and his wandering hands only seemed to pour salt over the wounds. “You’re nothing more than my whore, little sister.”

Hips ground against your backside in a slow, teasing manner, groans pushing past his lips as he did so. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

His erection was pressed flush against you, straining in his pants before he unzipped himself. At this point, you were more than sobered up running on fear and adrenaline alone. Your panties were ripped clean off with his free hand while the other stroked his hardening cock. “Look at me.”

The tip was aligned with your hole, rubbing slightly to gather the minimal wetness between your lips. “I said look at me.”

Teary eyes peaked up at him through wet lashes, silently pleading with a man who was not known for mercy.

“Good fuckin’ girl, so obedient for your big brother.”

With one snap of his hips, Touya fully sheathed himself inside of your tight cunt, groaning at the way you squealed for him. “Aw, you like that, huh, princess. Feeling good?”

A warbled moan was the only response you could give him as he slowly began to pull out. The alcohol had you buzzing enough to block out the pain of the stretch, and damn did you feel filled to the brim.

“Can’t wait to breed this greedy little cunt of yours.”

His pace was slow, agonizingly so. Touya couldn't help but savor every second of the first time having been inside you, especially after dreaming about it for so long. God, if it didn't turn him on to have an audience, knowing that these men knew he was fucking his sister.

What would the media think? God, the news cycle would be ripped to shreds tomorrow over this breaking story. But hey, no PR is bad PR.

The thought of finally having staked his claim in you almost had him coming prematurely, but he had to hold out for your very first time together, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Heh, your crying face was so cute. Those tears weren't shy by any means and neither were your sobs. It's alright, you’ll learn to love being Touya’s cocksleeve.

“Say you love me.”

An impossible request when you're being violated by the person you held dearest to your heart.

His pace had picked up brutally, slamming into you without care for his flames spreading wildly nor the group of assaulters who seemed to vanish once they had the opening to.

“I-I love you, nii-san! I love you!”

Your cries were shrill and whiny, echoing into the chaotic night. The grip on your hips was heating up, so much so that his handprints were burned into your love handles.

“Good girl, good little slut.”

His breathing was erratic, hot against your neck as he growled and grunted into your ear. “Gonna let nii-san breed this pretty little pussy? Yes, you are. I know you are because you're fuckin’ mine, bitch.”

Moaning out your name, Touya came deep inside your womb, thick ropes of his cum painting your insides. You were soon to follow thanks to his thumb against your clit, causing you to writhe and whine in his arms.

Utterly spent, you rested against the brick wall you were pinned to, feeling the cum drip out of your still filled hole.

“Let’s get you home and into my bed, princess. I gotta go have a chat with Dad and Shouto, let ‘em know you’re fully off limits now.”

— tagging: @libiraki @bonesoftheimpala @tomurasprincess @sightoru

[lunnybunny12]

Sirius Black x reader (And yet...)

A/N: Never written a Sirius fanfic before hope you enjoy. 

Warnings: themes of death and death threats. 

Word count: 1331

Master list

12 years. It had only been 12 years. 12 years since you became a professor. 12 years since your friends were murdered. 12 unbelievable years of pain. 12 excruciating years of overwhelming loneliness... It felt longer than that.

You heard muffled yelling from above you, with a wand at the ready, you crept up the stairs.

"Don't be a fool, Severus!"

"He can't help it. It's habit by now."

"Quiet, Sirius!"

The voices became clearer the closer you got. You didn't know how many people were there at that moment but you guessed 3.

A Black, slender figure is what you saw at first. Greasy black hair and their skin was as white as a sheet of parchment. Your lips contorted into a snarl at the sight of the man. If you could even call him that.

He clicked his tongue and growled through gritted teeth. "Listen to you two. Quarrelling like an old married couple. The creature and the criminal."

The second person you saw was tall. From where you stood all you could see were male and lanky. Had to be Remus, He was the only one that was supposed to be there.

"Piss off." a gruff voise spat. Severus strode over to the figure, pushing his wand into their neck.

You sneaked another couple of steps closer to the Wizards, curious to see what you were dealing with. Then you got to the door frame, the more you could see.

The shack had seen better days. A thick layer of dust blanketed everything in the room from the piano to probably multiple corpses of rotting animals.

"Witty as ever I see. " Severus snarled. "Tell me, will you be so irreverent when I turn you over to the Dementors? Do I detect a flicker of fear? One can only imagine what it must be like to endure the Dementor's Kiss. It's said to be unbearable to witness. But I'll do my best."

Before you could think, a flash of light exploded from your wand that sent the black-clothed professor soar through the air and land on the floor with a thud.

The room was still. You felt your heart pound in your chest from the adrenalin that was pumping through you. Multiple pairs of eyes were on you but there were only 1 that you cared about at that moment.

12 years... And there he was, stood right in front of you. The same smile he always had, plastered on his lips. You had imagined this moment so many times that you couldn't even tell the difference between your thoughts and reality anymore.

Your jaw began to tremble at the sight of him. He was so pale, so sickly. His once sparkling eyes were glazed over with pain and had sunken into his skull. It had to be real. Your mind wasn't cruel enough to make that sight up... but you still weren't sure.

"(Y/N)!" He breathed, stepping towards you.

"We don't have time for this! You said Peter before. Peter who?" That's when you saw the children. Why were they here? who brought them here? And Peter, of all people why were they talking about peter?

"Pettigrew. He was at school with us. We thought he was a friend."

" No. Pettigrew's dead. He killed him." Sirius laughed mirthlessly at the accusation.

"I thought so, too. Until you mentioned seeing Pettigrew on the Map."

"The Map was lying then --"

"The Map never lies, Harry. Sirius said stumbling over his own feet. "Pettigrew's alive. And he's right there."

His arm extended to point at Ron. Said boy pretty much cacked his pants when he saw your once teary eyes turn black with anger.

"ME? That's mental..."

"Not you. Your rat!"

That's when it all fell into place for you. You understood right then and there what was going on and what was about to happen.

"Scabbers? Scabbers has been in my family for " "Twelve years." you said angrily walking up to the red-headed boy with Sirius in toe.

"A curiously long life for a common garden rat. He's missing a toe, isn't he?"

"So what?" The redhead asked, holding his rat protectively at his side.

"All they could find of Pettigrew was his finger, Ron," you answered, eyes still fuming with rage as they pinned themselves to squirming creature.

"Dirty coward cut it off so everyone would think he was dead. Then he transformed into a rat."

Harry stared into Black's sunken eyes. He wanted to believe. He was desperate to believe.

"Show me." The boy ordered.

With that, Lupin took out his wand and, as one, he and Black cast a stream of BLUE-WHITE LIGHT. Scabbers twisted madly in midair, then -- FLASH! -- transforms into... a very short man with thinning hair and grubby hands.

"R-Remus...S-Sirius. My old friends." Pettigrew said. As his watery eyes darted towards the windows and door. Suddenly, he made a break for it, but Sirius merely shoves him back. Pettigrew's nose twitched rapidly, his eyes landed on you. His hands fluttered nervously, revealing his missing finger.

"(Y/n)... my dear, sweet (Y/n)" he said scurrying towards you. Both Sirius and Remus were about to intervene until you held up your hand in a stop motion. Peter had always been smaller and weaker than you, so when you were younger you took it upon yourself to protect him. He must have thought you were going to help him but your intentions were entirely opposite.

"You know me, you know, more than anyone else that I couldn't hurt a fly..." He suddenly stopped his sentence when he felt the tip of your wand blunge itself into a layer of fat he called his neck. The fake smile you had for a second quickly morphed into a deadpan expression.

"You sat in my classroom. You watched me teach" Everyone could practically see the fire that seethed inside of you as you pushed the rat into the centre of the room.

"You stood by and watched 2 of my best friends die. And you watched as my HUSBAND got taken away to a place where I wouldnt condemn my worst enemy... So.. don't you dare come to me, begging for pity because that died with Lily and James." If Wormtail wasn't scared before then he was terrified after that. He was shaking from head to toe as you, Remus and Siriuses wands were pointed right at him.

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

12 years since he had seen you. 12 years since kissed you, held you and yet...there you were, still as beautiful as the day he was taken (even with the messy hair and angry eyes). It took everything in him to not hold you tight and never let you go and when you and the children got outside into the crisp evening air, he made sure you knew it.

He didn't care about Perter or Remus or the Children, he just wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a long-awaited kiss.

A flood of emotions hit you all at once: shock since you weren't expecting it, anger because of what had just transpired, relief, horror, fear, happiness and they all came across in that one, long loving kiss.

"Sirius, darling" you said in a voice so quiet it could've been considered a whisper. "You need a bath"

He let out a hearty chuckle, laughing into your shoulder as you refused to let him go. you laughed along with him.

"Professor (Last name), You know him?" Harry asked in a calm tone.

Sirius looked at you in amusement for a moment. "Went back to the maiden name did you?"

You rolled your eyes at him and rested your head against his.

In the 3 years harry had attended Hogwarts, he had never seen you have a wormer smile on your face as you did then.

"Harry Potter, allow me to introduce you to your God-Father and my Husband, Sirius Black.  

[official-weasley]

Molly's Wrath (The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley AU)

Warnings: Molly being...well Molly

Word count: 3,502

Characters: Charlie Weasley and my OC Nova from TICW which you can find here

Charlie

“Do you have everything?” I asked the second Nova came down the stairs.

“We're only going to be gone for a few days,” she gave out a gentle smile, “if everything goes well, of course.”

“I don't care what they say, it's our life.” I walked to her and pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“Are you prepared to answer all the questions?”

“Like what?” I asked bemused.

“Like why did it happen, how could you be so irresponsible, where are you going to live and your answer better not be the Sanctuary!” Nova imitated my mum.

“How about I just roll my eyes every time like Ron usually does?” I chuckled.

“Charlie, this is serious!” Nova whined.

“I know you're nervous but you worry too much.” I made her let go of the bag she was holding and wrapped my arms around her in a tight embrace.

“What if they don't approve, what if your mum doesn't approve?” Nova started to panic.

Ever since we found out we are going to have a baby and I mentioned that we might be scolded by my parents for getting pregnant before getting married, Nova has been having a hard time falling asleep and dreading to tell my family.

“And what is she going to do? Ground us?” I giggled.

“What if...what if...” Nova's lip started to tremble, her gaze on the wall next to us.

“What if what, love?” I tilted my head, hoping she will look me in the eyes.

“What if she makes us give her away?” Nova whispered.

“Her?” I gasped. “We're having a girl?!” I exclaimed. “How do you know?”

“I-I don't.” Nova smiled sheepishly. “I just have a feeling it's a girl. I can't quite explain it.”

We haven't been to St Mungo's yet as Madam Finch suggested us to go but we made an appointment and we are going there after our visit to the Burrow. The night after we found out about the baby, we discussed if we would like to know the gender and we both agreed that we would like it to be a surprise – we would be happy whether it's a boy or a girl.

I was certain that I would be as happy having a daughter as having a son but now that Nova said she thinks it's a girl, I couldn't help but hope for it to be true. I have 6 siblings, only one being a girl so when I imagined having a family with Nova I first thought of a girl that looks just like her.

I couldn't stop my lips from curving into a smile imagining a little Nova running around our living room, giggling as I am chasing after her, trying to tickle her while Nova is sitting on the sofa and laughing at our shenanigans.

“Char? You with me?” Nova waving her hand in front of my face brought me back from my daydreaming.

“Huh, yeah.”

“What were you thinking about?” Nova pressed her lips together not to chuckle.

“Oh, nothing. Just us having a girl.” I scratched the back of my head, feeling the heat on my cheeks.

“You're adorable, do you know that.” She ruffled my hair and kissed me on the lips before starting toward the door.

“Nova, wait.” I reached for her hand to stop her.

Her saying that we're going to have a girl made me completely forgot about her worries about telling my family.

“C'mon, Char. We can daydream later.” She chuckled. “We have to go if we don't want to miss our portkey and you know I don't want to know what apparition will do to my stomach. I already don't like apparating.”

“I just don't want you to go there all worried, thinking that my mum will make you give up the baby. She will probably be mad but she loves children and has been nagging us to make her a grandmother for years.” I tried calming her.

“I know, but Molly is also very traditional and I got pregnant before we got married.” “And you'll give birth after we get married. Problem solved!” I lifted my hands in the air, enthusiastically.

“Right.” Nova's eyes were narrowed, still skeptical of my optimism.

“Your mum was happy about it.” I won't stop giving her reasons for her not to worry.

“No,” Nova giggled, “my mum was ecstatic.”

“Exactly! My mum will be just as happy.” I rubbed my chin. “If your mum didn't tell her yet.”

Nova's mum visited us a few days ago and since it was the day after we found out we decided to tell her. Well, Nova more or less blurted it out because she couldn't hold in the excitement and Olivia would find out sooner or later, because she always knew when we were trying to keep a secret.

To say that she was happy to have a grandchild was an understatement. She already asked if we need anything, offered to move to Romania so she could babysit, started to lecture Nova about all the baby things she has to know before she gives birth, and of course, cried her eyes out along with her daughter.

“We made her swear.” Nova sounded confident that for once, our mums won't tell each other everything about us that the other doesn't know.

“You made her pinky promise, love.” I bestowed her with a soft smile.

“Hey, those a serious!” Nova laughed.

“We're going to be fine. Now, come on.” I kissed her one more time and gestured for us to leave our home.

—

The second the portkey transported us to the hill at the Burrow I began to feel nervous. Nova grabbed my hand to get my attention and nodded toward the tree where I surprised her with a midnight picnic all those years ago.

I smiled at the memory that rolled in front of my eyes. We barely started dating back then and now we lived together, were about to get married, and had a baby on the way. Sometimes I still need to pinch myself to know that this is my real life as I never imagined it to be so perfect.

“There they are!” The second we stepped through the door my mum pulled us both in a tight hug.

I looked at Nova, who looked paler than usual and I knew that her nerves were getting the better of her.

I knew at once that all of my siblings were probably playing Quidditch outside and as much I was would like to join them, I found this a perfect opportunity for us to tell my parents the news alone.

“So, how's the planning going?” My dad asked the second we sat down in the living room.

“We're on a tight schedule but we're managing,” Nova said, covering her mouth with the cup of tea my mum brewed.

“What Nova is trying to say is that she can't decide which of the girls will be her maid of honor.” I chuckled and took a sip of my tea.

“You still haven't decided!” My mum returned from the kitchen, looking perplexed.

Nova swallowed thickly and shook her head slowly.

“But you're less than 10 days away from the wedding.” My mum forgot how to close her mouth.

“They are coming to visit us in a few days and they'll discuss it then. Right, love?” I put my hand over Nova's to make her stop having a mini panic attack.

“Yeah.” She nodded quickly and started blowing on her tea to distract herself.

Nova has never been afraid or intimidated by my mum. On the contrary – she saw her as a mother figure and it always meant a lot to me that they get along so well. But ever since we announced the date of our wedding, my mum has been sending her letters non-stop about how she should do and arrange everything.

Nova, of course, couldn't bother with so many things because we wanted to keep it as simple and as minimalistic as possible. So picking out the right napkin color and the right flowers was something that just didn't concern her. The second she mentioned that to my mum – making a mistake of telling her that she doesn't need all that even though she appreciates her help – my mum raised her voice at her for the first time since they were introduced at King's Cross when we were 12.

Nova knew that Molly was just excited and that she didn't mean anything bad by saying a few things a tad too loud. Nonetheless, now every time we visit or she gets a letter from her, she becomes nervous and acts like a child waiting to be scolded by their mother.

I talked to her about it and she said that she just can't help it – saying that she loves my family so much and wants the wedding to be perfect for everybody. She has calmed down a bit over the last month but knowing we would have to do a lot of things last minute, she was still a bit shaky.

“Did you at least talk to Bill yet?” My mum asked another question after a moment of silence.

“No,” Nova mumbled.

“She is going to talk to Bill when he will accompany her to her dad's grave tomorrow,” I answered for her.

“I just don't understand why do you have to do everything so last minute.” Mum sighed.

“They're busy, Molly. Give them a break.” Dad said gently, then turned to me and sent me a wink. “I am sure the wedding will be just lovely.”

“Of course, it will be lovely. We have been waiting for this for years.” Mum pursed her lips.

“Speaking of waiting for something for years.” I cleared my throat. “We have something else to tell you.”

“Oh, more exciting news?” Dad jumped in his seat.

“We're...”

“Oh, thank Merlin, you're finally moving!” Mum clapped her hands together, interrupting me.

“No.” I shook my head.

“Molly, let them finish.” Dad put an arm around mum's shoulder, shaking her a little.

“Why not?” Mum completely ignored dad's gesture and furrowed her brows.

“Mum...”

“Haven't we been through this?”

“Can you just listen...”

“You can't live in that Sanctuary forever, Charles.” She kept interrupting me.

Dad sighed, shrugged, and tried to calm me down with a faint smile. I glanced at Nova, who was nervously tapping her foot and biting the inner side of her cheek, her eyes on my mum.

“Mum, please...” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“I didn't say you have to come back home but nobody's going to tell me that there isn't a village in the apparition distance where you could find a nice house and...”

“I'm pregnant!” Nova blurted out, leaving my mum speechless.

“You're...” Mum's eyes kept switching between me and Nova, her mouth slightly opened.

“We're going to be grandparents!” My dad got up so abruptly that he almost knocked over the coffee table.

He walked to Nova, looking at her tummy, teary-eyed, and pulled her into the tightest hug I think she has ever gotten from him.

“Congratulations.” He whispered in her ear before letting her go and coming to me to do the same. “Do you know the gender yet?” He asked excitedly and I shook my head.

“Molly, come on, say something.” Dad wiped his eyes and sat back down.

“What's the rush?” She said under her breath.

“What?” I asked, incredulously.

“What's the sudden rush? What happened to 'no mum, we aren't ready to have kids yet, let us enjoy life'?” Her voice rising.

“You're the one that nagged us about making you a grandmother!” My brows came together and I raised my voice at her.

“This wasn't planned, was it?” She hissed at me, ignoring my comment.

“Molly, calm down. We should be happy for them.” Dad extended his hand to prevent her from standing up.

“Planned?” I let out a laugh. “Like Bill was planned? Like I was?”

Mum gasped but said nothing.

“We're not even two weeks away from the wedding, what does it matter?” We all turned to Nova now.

“She's right, Molly. They are getting married and they are starting a family. It's all you talk about since they got engaged.” Dad tried calming mum down one more time.

“But they are not ready, Arthur!” Mum turned to dad, giving him an angry look. “They don't even know how to plan a wedding, let alone have a baby. They live amongst the most dangerous beasts not even thinking about moving! How can you be supportive of this?”

“Molly, that's enough!” That was the second time I have ever heard my dad raise his voice.

The only other time was when the twins nearly burned down the house in my second year.

“They are adults, they both have a good job and they can take care of themselves, right?” Dad's frown disappeared when he looked at us.

“Y... Excuse me.” Nova put her hand over her mouth and got up.

“Nova...”

“It's alright, Char. I got it.” She said as she disappeared on the stairs.

“She already has morning sickness?” If I didn't know any better, I would say that that was concern in my mum's voice.

“Oh, now you want to know more?” I rolled my eyes and stood up. “I need some fresh air.”

“Charlie, wait.” Dad made me stop walking as he closed the front door behind us.

“No, dad. I'm sick of this. She never listens and she has never been supportive.” I sighed and leaned against the wall next to the door. “She shouted at me for 3 hours when I made my final decision to move to Romania and she sent Bill a Howler when he accepted the job in Egypt. I have enough of this.”

“I know. I'm sorry.” Dad put a hand on my shoulder.

“You have nothing to apologize for, dad. You have supported us all in everything we ever did.”

“She will come around. The news just caught her off guard. You have to know that you and Nova starting a family has been the main topic of our conversations for months.” Dad smiled at me.

“Then why did she throw such a tantrum? Why can't anything ever be easy with her?” I frowned, trying to keep my voice down.

“You and Nova remind her of us when we were your age. Yes, it's no secret that neither you nor Bill were planned,” dad's cheeks turned scarlet, “and we struggled to get everything in order. Your mother is just worried because she doesn't want you to go through the same thing. She wouldn't trade you two boys for anything in the world but she wishes she would be more prepared and she just doesn't want you to struggle as we did.”

“But we won't. We might not know everything about babies but we are willing to learn. Olivia said she will send Nova some books and we have an appointment at St Mungo's tomorrow and yes, we didn't plan to have a baby quite so soon but dad,” I took a deep breath, “you should've seen us when the test showed a plus. We were so excited. We might not be the most knowledgable but I know we are ready for this.”

“I know you are, son,” dad pulled me into a hug, “you're going to make great parents.”

“Thanks, dad.” I couldn't stop the grin from spreading all over my face. It meant the world coming from him.

“Parents?” We broke apart when we heard voices behind us.

Ginny, Fred, George, and Ron were looking at us, their mouths wide open, brooms in their hands.

“I'm...I'm going to be an aunt?!” Ginny started shaking from excitement.

“We're going to be uncles!” Fred and George said in unison.

“Is Nova really pregnant?” Ron smiled and I nodded.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Fred dropped his broom and stepped to where dad and I were standing.

“We want it to be a surprise, so we don't know.” I chuckled.

“Fred, I will bet you 3 Galleons that it's a boy.” George turned to his twin, offering him his hand to shake.

“You're on!” Fred shook it at once.

“I want to bet too!” Ron appeared next to the twins. “I think it's going to be a boy too!”

“I think it's going to be a girl!” Ginny lifted her chin confidently.

“Ginny, you don't even have 3 Galleons.” George laughed.

“I don't need them, because I am going to win.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Are you going to bet too, dad?” I turned to him.

“Why not!” Dad shrugged. “I'm with Ginny.”

One by one my siblings hugged and congratulated me before grabbing their brooms and running towards the shed.

“I'm going to check up on Nova.” I turned to my dad.

“You do that, son. I'll talk to your mother.” He opened the door for us.

I ran up the stairs, stopping in front of the bathroom to catch my breath, ready to knock on the door when I heard voices inside.

“Let it all out, dear.” I heard my mum say gently, Nova vomiting. “There you go. Almost there, you're doing great.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Nova said as she flushed.

“I think I owe you an apology.”

“It's okay. I understand that this isn't ideal.”

“No, it's not okay. I know I made Charlie very upset and I didn't even ask you how you feel about it.” Mum sighed.

“I want a family with Charlie but I always bottled it, telling myself it's not the right time and that we should wait. When we were walking to the store to get the test I panicked because I wasn't sure how I would feel if the test showed that I was pregnant. But as we were waiting for it to show the result, the excitement in my chest growing, I knew that I would be sad if we would see a minus and Charlie wanted it to be positive too and when we finally looked we were so happy. We both want this and it feels right.”

“It really does.” I heard my mum move as Nova started vomiting again. “There you go. You can do this.”

“I am sorry. I should have approached the situation differently.” Mum said after a few seconds of silence when Nova stopped once again.

“Perhaps.” Nova let out a chuckle.

“I just don't want you and Charlie to be like me and Arthur. We had no idea what we were doing when Bill was born and we had no one to help us.” Mum inhaled and exhaled sharply.

“But we have you and my mum and we are eager to learn as much as we can before the baby arrives.”

“I know. It's different. You'll manage just fine.”

I knocked on the door, deciding to stop eavesdropping.

“Can I come in?”

I heard my mum stand up and unlock the door.

“Of course, Charlie.” She said gently, avoiding my eyes.

I sat down next to Nova and kissed her forehead.

“How are you feeling?” I whispered.

“I think it's going to end soon.” She smiled gently.

“It's better than yesterday then.” I tried being positive.

“Oh, definitely. Yesterday we camped in the bathroom.” She giggled.

“We are going to the healers tomorrow. They'll tell you if you can expect this to end any time soon.” I pressed my lips against her forehead again, stroking her hair.

I looked up at my mum, who was standing silently at the door, smiling and tears in her eyes.

“Mum? What's wrong?”

“Oh, nothing!” She swung her hand while wiping her eyes with her other one before kneeling next to us. “I am so sorry, Charles.” She sobbed. “I was wrong. You are ready and you will be so great at this. Congratulations!”

I pushed Nova gently off me and hugged my mum. After dad calming me down and hearing mum talking to Nova, I decided not to hold any grudges. I understand that she just wants the best for us but sometimes doesn't know how to show it properly.

“It's okay, mum. You just need to learn to think before you speak and just listen to us.” I said nonchalantly.

“I know. I am working on it.” She nodded even though I knew she felt called out.

“Does your mum know already?” She turned to Nova after she flushed the toilet again.

“Yes, we told her a few days ago.” Nova smiled.

“Oh, I am going to go and write her a letter.” My mum clapped excitedly and left the bathroom.

“They will probably discuss if it's a boy or a girl.” Nova giggled and I followed because I knew that that was exactly what will be the main topic of their correspondence until our baby is born.

[wendystales]

Memories - lrh (Chapter Five)

Memories (also available on Wattpad)

Chapter Four ※※※※※ Chapter Six

Noah parks the car in front of a beautiful house. My stomach churns more every second and I almost throw up when Leah opens my door. I spent the whole way rehearsing what I was going to say, but in truth, I can't remember anything and I have doubts if I will even be able to say ‘hi’.

“Well, Noah's house is down the street, we'll be there. In case it goes wrong, just call, text or shout, I don't know. We come running. Now, just in case you are okay, just don't send anything.” Leah fixes my hair and coat.

“Good luck!” Noah gives me a kiss on the cheek, before they get in the car.

I take a deep breath about five times before I press the bell. I hear the house door open and I almost pass out. Seconds later the gate opens and I feel my pressure drop slightly.

“Marnie? How did you get here?” he looks for a car, but the twins are gone.

“The wonder twins brought me.” I shrug.

“Why are you here?” he doesn't look happy or sad to see me.

“Hm, I need to talk to you. About the two of us, more precisely.” I press my fingers against each other, noticing my trembling.

“Okay, do you need help to get in?” he asks pointing to the boot on my foot. I accept the help and with support I enter his house.

I stand in the hall while he closes the door. We head to the kitchen, where he offers me a drink, but I refuse. If I drink something now, I’m sure I’ll get it out.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” he asks with a fake smile.

“Do you know.” I speak softly and awkwardly.

“About your meeting with Stephen? Yeah, I know.” he raises his eyebrows quickly, before opening a bottle of water.

“Luke …” I start, but he interrupts me.

“What? Isn't that what I'm thinking? Or was he the one who kissed you?” Luke doesn't change his tone of voice, but it still hurts. I am even ashamed to say that it was both alternatives.

“I really had no intention, he took advantage of the moment.” I try to defend myself.

“Yes, Marnie, that's what he does, what he's always done and what he's always going to do.” he look at me upset.

“Please try to understand me, I needed to see him, I needed to talk to him.” I'm starting to despair. It looks like it will come to nothing.

“The worst thing is that I understand, Marnie. I don't know how things are in your head, but if you needed it, we would arrange it, because all we want to do is help you.” he hits the bottle against the island's hail.

“I never wanted any of this to happen.” I look back at him after a while. “Both the accident and Stephen. If I had my head in place, I wouldn't have let any of that happen. Sorry.” Luke cuts eye contact and stares at the floor. “I never meant to hurt you.” I whisper. “And I will understand if you hate me for the rest of your life. Believe me, I hate myself a lot now.” I finish.

Luke lets out a humorless laugh and I notice his teary eyes.

“That's the problem, Marnie. Since I saw you, I try to hate you and I can't, you must know why.” he throws the ball back to me.

Cause he love me. I look away, not being able to sustain it. I know the answer, that's the shit. I sit on the stool facing the glass door leading to his garden. Luke sits next to me and we stay like that for a few minutes.

“I just don't want him to manipulate you, or hurt you. Marnie, I know how this story still moves you, how it is still hurt. I don't want to have to see you go through this again.” he vented, visibly tired.

I can't say anything for a few minutes. My mind spins at high speed. I review all my memories with Stephen at school, on the afternoons he took me to the beach or the pier and everything seemed perfect, like in a movie. I feel my heart race in nostalgia and longing. Even angry, even disgusted.

“When he kissed me …” I start, but Luke tries to interrupt me. “It didn't feel right. It wasn't him.” I finish quickly, returning to face him. His blue eyes look at me with a mixture of pain and hope. “I know I don't remember you and us yet, but something inside me knows and I want to hear that thing, but at the same time, I feel like an intruder in my own life. As if I were an impostor, the bad twin. In my head, I was going to leave everything the way it was, untouchable, so that when the ‘real me’ came back, everything was in place.” I vent.

It is horrible not to fit in with my own life, with my own self.

“What if doesn't come back?” he asks quietly.

“I freak out.” I shrug, making him laugh lightly. At least I made him laugh.

Of so many people at that intersection, of so many cars, mine had to be hit. In the midst of this confusion, if it had to happen, then I would prefer it to be a total blank, forget everything. Perhaps it was easier to start from scratch, than from a crucial point for what I have become today.

“What made you believe the story?” Luke asks quietly.

“I wrote in my diary, shortly after we met and probably I tell you. Everything that happened that day.” my throat closes when I remember the written words. “It was hard to believe my mother, because I know she couldn't stand him, but I couldn't help but believe me.”

“I thought you stopped with the diary.” I look at him confused “That's what you said to me, a while after you told me about the day and about the diary.”

“Did you read the diary?” I ask with my breath caught. I remember everything I said about him. I feel my cheeks heat up. This is what I haven't read all yet.

“No, you never left.” he shrugs. I breathe relieved.

We stayed in silence for a while longer. It is strange that even with all this hurricane, I feel very comfortable with Luke. My body recognizes him.

“Honestly, I'm trying to absorb everything. I'm upset with the kiss, but, deep down, I always knew you weren't to blame, but it still hurts. Deep down, we both know we need some time and I don't want to lock you up to me.” he speaks looking at the garden.

I look at him confusedly.

“Are we breaking up?” I don't know if that's what I wanted.

“It doesn't have to be an end, just a break.” he shrugs.

“Luke, a break, is a disguised ending.” again he laughs, I don't know why.

“Deep down, you're still the same Marnie, even though you feel like an intruder.” he looks at me with a smile and again, I feel intimidated around him. I look away. “I don't want to break up with you, Marnie, but I know you need space and time. Like me. It's just a break, but if you meet someone and don't want to come back… I will understand and respect you.” he explains.

So it seemed easier, meeting someone new, starting from scratch. New memories, without having to stick to the past, without trying to reconstruct everything. It looks so easy, why does it seem so wrong!?

“What if you find someone?” I ask quietly, looking at the drawings of my cast, as if that were a thousand times more interesting.

“I doubt it, but if it does, I'll talk to you first and we'll see what to do. You need to get close to the people and I don't want to be a hindrance, they are your friends too and you need them.”

I need you too, hell. I bounce mentally, without the courage to say it out loud. I know I need him, but I can't make him stay if he doesn't feel comfortable.

“Won't be that weird climate? I don't want it to be that thing just because I arrived, you have to go and vice versa.” I face him. Luke watches me for a few seconds before proceeding.

“There's no reason to be. We are fine, we always have been.” he assures me.

I roll my eyes, visibly irritated. Why does he have to be so understandable? Couldn't he yell at me and hate me? It would be much easier to go on like this.

“You can't be real.” I mumble, making him laugh again, but this time louder.

“Come here.” he gets up and pulls me into a hug.

Luke was taller. Much taller. Then it got a little difficult, without being able to stay at my tiptoes. He notices and sits back down, burying his face in my neck. I close my eyes, feeling its scent bring me a sensation, but it doesn't bring me any memory.

Still hugging him, I scan his refrigerator, seeing a polaroid of ours holding Petunia, his little dog, glued to a drawing. In art, I see Luke, me, Petunia and my brothers all holding hands and several flowers around. I soften seeing that he still keeps everything.

“ I'm sorry.” I whisper again.

“It's okay, M&Ms.” he whispers back.

I leave the embrace, feeling lighter and calmer. Luke still gives me a kiss on the forehead before I pull away completely. As good as the mood was, I was not going to push my luck, I had better go. I send a message to Leah and wait.

“Er, Ash commented on a dinner on Friday, are you going?” I ask.

“Still don1t know.” he sighs. “But it is very likely. You want me to go?” he questions uncertain.

“Yes! I would like it very much. It will be good to be with everyone.”

“Then I go.” he gives a closed smile.

“Er, before I go …” I feel embarrassed again “What about Petunia?”

“Do you remember her?” question incredulously.

“It was one of the first things I remembered in PowerPoint.” I reply shy.

“Do you remember her and not me?” he remains incredulous.

“ I'm sorry.” I don't hold it for a long time, I cover my face and start laughing, really nervous. Luke stops with his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

“Michael went to hike the observatory and offered to take her. Maybe I’ll take her on Friday.” he smiles.

“Thanks!”

I hear the car and say goodbye to him. As I expected, Noah and Leah look closely at the two of us, like two curious children. Luke helps me into the car and gives me another kiss on the forehead.

“Please take good care of her.” he asks leaning against the window.

“I don't know what you mean by that.” Noah is offended. “If you still refer to the day she tried to escape and hung in the bathroom window, it was only once! And I was busy doing my feet.”

“Wait, what?” I ask scared from the back seat.

What the fuck did I hang on the bathroom window?

“Long story, I'll explain later.” Noah counters.

We said goodbye again and left. I stick my head out of the window, waving at him.

I don't know what my future is with Luke, but I was very happy that we got it right. And, deep down, I didn't lose hope, after all, I already fell in love with him once, nothing prevents it from happening again.

“So?” Leah asks.

“We took a break, but we're fine.” I smile happily.

[...]

I leave the closet wearing a black cotton dress, because it was the easiest clothes to wear, because of the boot. The hair stuck in a ponytail, due to the heat. And without makeup, I'm not into it.

“Well?” I ask Noah, who was lying on my bed reading a magazine that I was on the cover.

“Beautiful as always. Ready?” he throws the magazine on the chair, coming towards me.

“No!” I give a nervous smile.

“Everything will be fine. Everyone is crazy to see you. You will love.” he hugs me, rocking me from side to side. “Shall we go?”

I confirm after a sigh. Everyone was at Ashton's house, ready to see me, and as ready as I felt, deep down, I wasn't.

The rest of my week was quiet, few memories, but a lot of pain in my arm, but the doctor said it would be common for one day or another to hurt. My father, my mother, Leah and Ashton came to visit me almost every day and after much conversation, I convinced my mother to return to her home. So at the end of the day, I was alone. Which is great, because I have peace and quiet to put my ideas in place.

On the way to Ashton's house, I go over some points with Noah so as not to be embarrassed, I know they are not expecting much from me, but even so, I prefer to avoid constraints.

As we get closer to the house, I feel my stomach churn. I try to snap my fingers, but with a hand in a cast it doesn't give much. When we park at the door, my legs freeze and I need Noah to help me more than usual to get out of the car.

Noah rings the bell and the laughter that filled the house ceases. Ashton opens the door and, when he sees us, opens a smile, hugging me and pulling me inside. I take his arm and follow him into the living room, where everyone is standing looking at me anxiously.

Michael. Kyleen. Calum. Luke. Leah.

“Piggy!” I shout excited when she comes towards me.

“I still can't get over it.” I hear Luke speak indignantly, but I do not answer, because I am focused on that huge and cute four-legged being.

After falling apart with Petunia, I again lean on Ashton who brings me closer to them. Luke and Leah are further behind, since she practically lives with me and I’ve seen Luke before. I stick to Ash more, like a child afraid and embarrassed to talk to strangers.

“Hi!” I wave after a sigh.

Everyone gives a bigger smile and waves back. It's so weird, the way everyone looks at me, I know they know me and that's what scares me. Ashton sits me on the couch and everyone sits around me, staring at me, like I'm an alien.

“Okay, this is getting weird and uncomfortable.” I comment by holding the air.

“Sorry.” everybody talks.

“It's just… it's weird, you don't remember anything, none of those last years?” Kyleen asks curiously.

“No, no. In fact, I remembered a few things already, but in the beginning, nothing.” I give a closed smile.

“And how do the memories come? Do you have any pain?” I turn to Michael, who looks at me impressed, as if I'm a superhero of the video games that I know he plays.

“No, no pain. Do you know when you drink a lot and have a hangover that you don't remember at first and then during the day, the memories come?”

“Yes!” everyone responds, much to my surprise.

“My God! You guys drink it, huh.” I comment scared. Everyone looks at each other with a laugh. “Well, it's like that. They start popping up in my head. Sometimes out of nowhere, sometimes because of some video, photo or text.”

“Aah” they speak in unison, again.

“Any more questions?” I control the smile. My God, they really look like kids asking questions with an adult.

“Have you remembered all of us?” I look at Kyleen again. Unlike the photos, she now has several strands colored by her long hair.

I dry swallow. How to answer that without causing it?! I had remembered almost everyone but Luke. I had no direct memory of him. If he showed up, it was like an extra, deep down, far away. However, nothing he and I. Soon who I was most curious to remember.

“So-so. Nothing too direct, but everyone has already emerged in some way.” I try to answer, without being very clear.

I glance at Leah almost shouting ‘change the focus’ and luckily for me, she understands.

“What about your arm and your leg? Do they still hurt?” she shrugs.

“Not much and I made a point of reserving a space for you.” I extend the cast of my arm and in less than two minutes, everyone is proofreading to write things.

We ended up eating right there, each with a plate of pizza on your lap. I was still watching everyone, I didn't know who I was looking at, since everyone was talking together. To Noah's happiness, I remembered his hair and again Calum and I were out of breath from laughing.

In revenge, Noah commented on the day that I, drunk, tried to escape through the bathroom window and got stuck, leaving only with a lot of butter. I cover myself with the pillow when he throws the photo, my God what have I become?!

Suddenly, my mind starts to form another puzzle.

““I take a deep breath, feeling my body, especially my head, tingling. It's already the third round and I need to win again. Also because I bet with Ashton that I beat Mike and his friend, that I have no idea who he is.

I kiss the ball and throw it in the direction of the blue cup. The ball rotates around the edge and falls into the cup beside it. I shout with the whole audience at our side, celebrating. Mike turns the glass around reluctantly, while I continue my victory dance.

His friend takes the ball and plays, hitting it too. I turn the glass over, just like Michael a second ago. I blink a few times, already feeling drunk and very light. If a wind hits, I fly away, for sure.

Kiki takes the ball and closes an eye, aiming. I don't know if it's the high and mixed level of alcohol in my blood or if it really happened, but I swear I saw that little ball going in full slow motion into their last glass, signaling our victory. Three-time champions.

I raise my arms, giving, perhaps, the biggest scream I have ever given. I hug Kyleen jumping and spinning in place. However, doing this drunk is not the best option, since in a few seconds, Kiki and I were sinking into the pool.

I come back to the surface watching Mike roll over on the floor laughing and Noah looking at us both confused and angry, as always he was responsible for us. Poor boy."”

I resolve not to interrupt the conversation about the trip to Hawaii. Michael was laughing out loud as they left that Mark alone in the market. Leah once again withdraws in regret.

“Say, the sex was very good, right? Because you stayed with him for three months, something had to be really good.” Calum asks.

“Worse than not, I pretended every time.” At once, the whole room explodes in laughter. “It was a difficult time and he was always available.” she tries to justify herself. “And so complaining about it, worse than Mark just Emery.” she points to Ashton and everyone says "uuh".

“What?” I ask lost. “Was she boring?”

“Boring? Boring?” Mike raises his voice indignantly. “Luke is boring, she was unbearable.” I hold my laughter watching Luke look at Mike in offense.

“ I'm not boring.”

“Of course it is, I don't know how Marnie put up with you and your little jokes.”

“Because you never heard hers.” Luke counters and now I feel offended.

“Hey! My jokes are not bad.” I throw the cushion at him.

“Damn the jokes, let's talk bad about Emery.” Kyleen begs sly.

“I was afraid of her. She entered Calum's house by jumping over the wall, who does that?” Mike reveals.

“Was my house a pet and the hotel room in Denmark? It came out of nowhere. But nothing beats Mitch's birthday party.” Calum raises his eyebrows and once again, everyone is laughing, remembering.

“What?” but does it cost them to tell everything at once?

Noah once again takes out his cell phone and hands it to me. The video shows me and most likely Emery, tangled in a blur of hair pulling and scratching.

“That's not me.” I say in total shock to see my face very well lit.

“Oh, yes it is.” Noah answers.

“In total anger held for four long months.” Calum complete.

I watch Luke trying to get away from her, while Jack from All Time Low, tries to hold Emery. In the background I notice Calum sitting drinking, watching everything in peace. Noah was trying to get in the middle like Ashton. Leah and Kyleen shouted angrily for me to punch Emery and Michael… well.

“Who recorded this?” I ask seeing everyone pointing Michael. I look at him in awe. “Michael!”

“You wanted me to do what? I had been waiting for this moment for months.” he defends himself.

“But why did this happen?” I hand the phone back to Noah.

“Because Emery was kind of obsessive and crazy!?” Kyleen answers quietly, before drinking the beer.

“Emery never liked you and the girls, but mainly you because of our friendship. Because we were doing yoga all day. She was very jealous and you knew it, but you stayed in your corner, didn't provoke her.” Ashton responds with a grimace, perhaps knowing that the ex affair's paranoia was nonexistent. “Until that day, Emery, I don't know, freaked out and both started to argue.”

“Until you freak out and fly on her like a lioness.” Leah completes with a smile on her face.

“My God what have I become?” I sink on the couch, astonished.

“Calm down, we didn't even tell you about the time you climbed on Calum’s roof to jump into the pool and got stuck in your pants.” Michael ‘tries’ to calm me down.

[randomsevans]

a long , long time

Weekly challenge

@donutloverxo

@captain-rogers-beard 

hasn't been read through so please ignore  the mistakes please 

this is sorta a continued  of  ROSE  , but can be read by its self 

How ? 

How can you do this ? How are you going to keep going ? Why did he do this ? Why leave you ? Why leave his daughter ? why her , why is it always her ? 

you dont know how your going to do this ,you dont know how your gonna cop being a single parent , you dont know how you are going to do it alone ,. More importantly how are you going to get over him ?

How are you ever going to get over Steve Rogers ?

one thing is for sure , you have to for the sake of your daughter . Even though you will never love another , because Steve no matter what will always be your first and only love and that why it hurts so much .But you need to at  least be strong for your daughter , she just lost her father.

Time , time is all you need .

===================================

it was a random Sunday , at a random park where Steve sat , He knows that he has just when back to ever one , but he hasn't showed his face yet.  He looked around the park as the tree rustle against the wind as the odd person or two passes by . At this moment he feels peace .He had lived a beautiful life , with the women he truly loves and he wouldn't change .A life with Peggy , a life in his time was everything Steve wanted and got . 

But for him the last 8 years or so haven't been easy , with old age playing effect on him ,the snap  and the death of his love he was mostly been by himself . leaving him more time to think about them , her , you , his daughter . wonder what it would be like if he stay , how you are , did you meet some one else ? the thought sickens steve your his wife ... wait was his wife and what about his daughter he doesn't want another man raiser her .But what thats what it like now he made his choice and no matter what life he picked , it would always be filled with what ifs / and questions , theory on how he life would of went .

He buried the memory of you and his daughter for so long , Peggy never knew he had a  daughter or a wife . His other children never know that there have a sister who is the same age as their grandchildren . He never thought about you , not untill it came to the years where he knew some place in the world right now , you and his younger self where together , meeting , working , dating , married , a child all together . And now your by your self .

on the days like when he asked you to marry him , got married  he thought about you all day , was so so temper to go and see you and him self , but it was to risky . he remember everything , every detail to your hair , dress , your shocked face when he got on his knee . the small tear that rolled down your cheek where saying your “i dos “ . He would sit there on those days buying a single rose and drawing you. 

even on the day you were born you never left his mind , he find it quiet funny and sad on that day , thinking this is the day his wife was born , but also all the pain that was to come your way , that he couldnt do anyhing about

But htere were days like the 7th of January 2020 were he couldn't just sit there by himself with his thoughts . He made his way to a random hospital in Brooklyn . He sat outside on a bench for hours , people would pass by ask if was okay an odd nurse or too  would come up and ask if he was a patience . unknowingly to them his daughter , his eldest , yet youngest chronologically was being born . He sat there for hours thinking and remembering , the first time he holded her , her first steps , the annoyed look  on your face when her first word was “pa “ , he remember how happy he was , he swears he never smiled so wide so happy , spinning his daughter around promising her the world because she said dad first . He chucked at the memory . He left sortly after not getting a glance at you or his daughter since he could risk seeing his self .

that was roughly three years ago and on that day every year he would celebrate in one why . he would also send her a gift which he knows he should but he couldn't stop him self  .

Now he sits here on this bench, knowing soon he will have to see everyone well at least Bruce and Bucky to tell them not his okay an nothing went wrong . He was so lost in his thoughts he didnt notice the little girl run passed and trip over a rock right in frount of him

the girl had pushed her hands ifrount of her to try and save her self and let out a little cry . Steve got up the fastest her could , he reach of her hand and helped her up , while looking around to see if there was anyone running after her , not yet anyway .

the little girl was now up on her feet , with small sniffles . Her hair was long and blonde covering her face in all different direction . Her little hands trying to push her hair out of her face . Steve kneeled down to help her . 

“ are you ok....”

he stop , his old heart began to beat face , his eyes wide 

“ Sarah ?”

the sight of his daughter broke him , he didnt realise how much he  missed her , his first child , the one he promise to always be around .

“ hmm “ was the onlt thing that came out of her . she glanced up to meet steves eyes . Blue meet blue , the same blue

Hers widen , in shook  , she looked like she was about to cry .

“ h ... how do yo. you know ..my ..n..name “ she coked on every word , taking her time .

Steve was silent  he didn't know what to say , the fact that his daughter that he left behind was right infrount of him. 

her mouth only widen as she brought her tiny hand up towards steve face and pointed at his teary eyes .

“ y.. you ... you stole my daddy's eyes “ her little face scrunched up angerly  

he slighlt chuckled shaking his head “ n..no i didnt blue “

her hand quickly wet to her side at the name 

“wh... onli  daddy cowlds me t..hat “

“ i..  i know “ his tears now fully streaming downs his eyes .

“how?” she asked quickly 

“be..because ..” he truly didnt know what to say

“ your my daddy ?” 

he forget how smart she was , she may only be three but even Tony said shell grew up to be a genius and has the smartest around about an 8 year old the least time there checked 

he nodded his head in relief , the little girl only seem to grow anger as she place her hand on his cheek .

“liar .. my daddy is young .... my daddy will hurt you .... my daddy is c.cap .. amwerica  he .. does good ..and doesn't liek liars “ but then she paused for a moment her eyes grew red and her lip trembled “b...but his a li..liar ... he l...my daddy ..left me “ 

and with that she fell to the ground with aloud sob , and Steve went with her , both crying on the floor

“ h..”

“mm im sorry blue ...but i am your .. daddy ?” he knows he shouldn't but he couldn't help it his little girl right there crying over him , his heart is breaking and dying 

“how could i ever leave her ? “but he did 

“ho.. how ?” you looked up 

he stay silent how do you tell you daughter you left her and her mother to grow old with some one else.

“ how do i know your .. not lying ?”he glared at him . the same expression she shares with you , he let out a small chuckled , his daughter asking all the right question , she she so much like you . 

“ i call .. you blue be..because  we both .. have blue eyes “ a small smile placed on his lips , at the memory of finding the perfect  nickname of his daughter   . 

she just nodded in agreement staring him down . he smile shiftig on his bony knees . 

“ yo.. your first word was pa ... your birthday is 7th of January , you cant go to sleep with out  piggy .. yo..you favoit food is cookie .. double double chocolate chips that antie nat makes .... you love that silly little show that .. “ 

“the song “ she cut him off 

“what ?” he titled his head 

“ if you are really my daddy .. you know the song “ her eyes soften almost coming to terms that he is her father 

he paused for a mintes , cold tears falling from his eyes , every memory , everytime he song her to sleep with the song , the song that was your and his first dance together as husband and wife   

“it ... its” he could trust his own words , his voice he was so emotional he was sure hes old fragil body would give  away .

“ its .. its been a . long .. long time “ he closer his eyes in  a temper to clear his vision as he sung the melody 

“never thought that you would be standing here so close to me ,

theres so much i feel that i should say 

but words can wait untill some other day 

kiss me once the kiss me twist 

then kiss me one again 

its been a long long time 

haven't felt like this my dear 

since cant remember when 

you'll never know how many dreams 

iv dreamed about you 

or just how empty there seem with out you 

so kiss me once then kiss me twist 

then kiss me once again “ 

he paushed on ever word , every line , a thousand memory and emotions , him meaning every word as he looked into the yes of his daughter , that he had missed so much , the same blue eys he shared . The ones that have grown to accept that he is her father , her papa , her daddy .

with both teary eyes ,cold stinging cheeks against the hash wind on he ground of a random park , on a random Sunday , there finish the song together meaning very word , as father and daughter 

“its been a long , long time “

[onwesterlywinds]

PROMPT #27: [EXTRA CREDIT]

A worst-case alternate timeline.

She clung to him the moment they brought her forth, such that he had to tear her away from him to get a better look at her. At first glance, she seemed unblemished, but she had been in their custody for more than a week; he'd known her to recover from black and blue bruises in half that time. Worst of all was that she did not cry as she clung to him, not as she had when he'd last seen her on Ala Mhigo's last day of freedom. Instead she trembled, shook with fear the likes of which he had never seen from her before, and he had no words at all with which to comfort her.

But even now, the Garleans would not take her from him again. He fought the first man who tried with manacled hands, shoving him into the stone wall of the dungeon with such force that he heard his skull crack through his helmet. He was halfway through with choking the second one when six guns pointed through the bars of their cage.

When he slipped into unconsciousness only a moment later, propelled into sleep through a haze of Garlean sedatives, he watched through his daughter's eyes, as helpless as she was, as they brought her in for experimentation.

---

"Ashelia?"

"Yeah, Daddy?"

He'd requested the training hall for their privacy and some fresh fruits from the viceroy's private shipment, and he'd been granted both. Now that he sat with her, under the glaring fluorescent lights they'd installed, he doubted either would make much of an impact.

"Now that we're beginning to create new lives for ourselves, under Garlemald..." The words rang hollow, even to him. "...it's come time for us to take up new identities as well. New names."

She nodded, but nothing in her bright eyes registered understanding.

"It's something I did often as a Riskbreaker," he continued. "I would have any number of names that I would pick and choose from, as part of a disguise. It would help keep me and you and your mother and Aunt Alma safe - to make sure no one could find us if there was an accident."

"Has there been an accident, Daddy?"

"No." Not yet. "But it's still important to be careful. If you're a-" He couldn't bear to say it - the word "soldier." "If you're here, with me, you have to be undercover. I'll need to make a new name, and you will too."

For the first time, she frowned, as sure a sign as any that she was deep in thought. She stared down at the apple slice in her hand but did not bring it to her mouth. "But if I get a new name... how will Edge and Joshua and Frimelda find me?"

As always, she asked the questions he had no answers for. "If they're still alive," he began uncertainly, "then I imagine you'll find them, someday. If it's meant to be."

He had already been instructed not to speak to her of the Twelve. Whatever comment he had made previously had been so innocuous that he barely remembered it, but the warning had been severe - accompanied by a veiled threat to void his future visits.

"Will Mama and Aunt Alma still know who I am, up in the heavens?"

"Always." He reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, but she did not lean into the touch. "And they will love you no matter what your name is."

At last, she broke into her gut-wrenching sobs.

"I’ve decided I’ll be Rosenheim," he whispered to her. "In one of the old tongues, it means 'the home of the rose.' Aldous Rosenheim - what do you think of that name for a disguise?" When she did not respond, he asked, "Would you like to hear the name I've chosen for you?"

She heaved a few shuddering breaths, and nodded.

"It's Vera. Vera Rosenheim." He hated that her sobs stilled almost at once. "Mondeberta kept it in her kitchen; do you remember?" He certainly remembered all too well the time she had plucked a sprig of one, with the intention of eating it whole on a dare. "It can be used for... healing." And for making a serum strong enough to render a grown woman catatonic in the Undercity for more than a year of her life. But it was the only Ala Mhigan herb that could pass as a Garlean praenomen. "It's a wonderful name."

"NO!" she screamed, jumping to her feet. "I'm ASHELIA!"

"Ashelia Marco Riot." He allowed himself the indulgence of the full name Tia had chosen for her, not knowing when it would leave his lips again. "Ashelia, listen to me. You will always be my daughter. And I will love you to my dying breath and beyond." That was the most he could promise her. Even he had heard of the children van Baelsar had taken away - children of nobles and merchants and commoners alike. He could not swear that she would not be among their number before long. "But we can't let any more Garleans know who you are, can we? This is part of what it means to be in disguise. We'll have to pretend, perhaps for a very long time. But I'll-"

She ran from him then, for the first time in her life. When at last he found her, curled up in an abandoned corner of the research wing, he could not bear to comfort her with her new name or her old one.

---

To the Garleans, it was the first time she'd snuck out since the new year. Rosenheim knew differently, thanks to his dreams. His daughter had made a habit of leaving her chambers on nights when the viceroy was due to return and the guards' rotations were thinner in her wing. From there, she'd sneak out along the palace ramparts, steal down into the gutter, and find a quiet outcropping of Undercity territory long since abandoned by any self-respecting dweller.

By the time the knock came to his door to inform him that Vera was out of bed, he'd seen her sit at her destination for more than an hour of unbroken solitude. The only reason he was awake was that their connection had been cut - severed by an abrupt end to her concentration.

He shrugged on a uniform with the vague excuse of joining the search, only he knew precisely where to go. He knew better, too, than to follow her exact paths; a quicker route lay within the palace itself, and he was loath to surrender her own means of escape. For a single heartbeat of a moment, as he breathed in the midnight air, it was enough for him to recall himself as a boy, albeit older then than his daughter was now, exploring the Undercity for the first time.

When he at last came upon the place, it was somehow grander in person than through the eyes of a child’s dreams. He had remembered this hideout as an old weapons cache, littered with rusting swords and moldering barrels. Although the Echo had presented to him the change that had been wrought since he had last set foot here, he nevertheless could not believe his eyes: what had once been a useless, deserted corner of the Undercity was now transformed into an immaculate shrine to Rhalgr, decorated with trinkets and lit up by blue-burning candles.

He did not find his daughter there alone.

"Walker," came a familiar, imperious voice.

The Black Wolf, shorn of his helm and garbed in a simple leather coat, leaned in a corner. Vera copied his pose nearer to the cavern's entrance. The shrine gleamed along the far wall, as though in witness.

"Lord van Baelsar." He inclined his head but gave no further greeting, waiting instead for the viceroy to explain his presence here of all places. He did not, and neither would Vera meet his eyes.

"Would you care to explain to your father," said Gaius van Baelsar to Vera, "why you chose to leave your chambers?"

Vera bit her lip. Still she stared at her own feet.

"As you explained to me," the legatus continued, "you came here to pray to Rhalgr on behalf of your late mother."

The words hit Rosenheim with a pang of guilt. It was, of course, the 27th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon - Tia's birthday. A day he had not even known that Vera had remembered, and which he certainly had not.

"Share with your father what I said to you."

Her voice was quiet but firm. "That reliance on false gods is a weakness."

"You are among the best and brightest of your generation, Vera. You will make a name for yourself in Garlemald, should you continue to excel. But you will not excel so long as you succumb to worship. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, my lord."

But that was not all. The viceroy showed no sign of satisfaction as he stared down at Vera, and Vera continued stifling her words through her clenched jaw. At last, she demanded, "Why can't I join the Crania Lupi?!"

"You are twelve years old, Vera," Rosenheim said before he could stop himself.

"You've much still to learn," van Baelsar added. Rosenheim found himself glad for the man's agreement. "And your role in Case 72 takes precedence over-"

"NO!"

Rosenheim forced himself to draw breath, to steady himself, to ready for any sign of anger from the most powerful man in occupied Ala Mhigo. But van Baelsar did not move. Instead he watched, along with Rosenheim, as Vera's hands balled into fists and she alternated her fury toward each of them and then to the altar.

"I hate being in that stupid tank!" she screamed. "I'm not learning anything, I'm not getting better - I'm just stealing power from dead things and I HATE IT!"

After a beat of silence, in which her words echoed endlessly around them, Gaius van Baelsar stepped forward from the wall. He drew himself up to his full height, there in the Undercity passage, and looked down at the girl before him with an expression Rosenheim could not read.

"I will repeat what I said before," he said, slowly, "only once. You, Vera oen Rosenheim, have the means to excel among the Empire. But you cannot honor your gifts - be they from your father or from the XIIth - if you traffic in savagery."

With no more words of admonishment, van Baelsar left the tunnel, leaving a teary-eyed Vera to follow closely in his wake.

---

Camilla was already shouting by the time he entered the briefing room, though not to anyone in particular. A notarius he had never seen before was still scribbling notes, as though she had not yet been informed to disregard her commanding officer whenever she became like this. A trio of privates shifted uncomfortably at attention, one of them still sporting a deep cut to their upper arm.

"Walker," she snapped, rounding on him at once. "Where is Seraph?"

"I've not seen her yet, ser," he replied. "I imagine she's only moments behind."

"She was instructed to arrive with you, at her earliest convenience."

"What's happened, ser?" She would hate him questioning her in front of so many, especially subordinates - but it would be best to get it out of the way before Vera arrived.

Sure enough, she bristled visibly. "She disobeyed a direct order; that's what happened."

Surely she of all people would not think him capable of buying that. "I was on backup outside Specula Imperatoris," he reminded her, as if she needed reminding of his role in this whole ordeal. "No new orders came in-"

"'No new orders came in'?" Camilla repeated, her voice breathy with affront.

"-and she carried out her existing instructions, as per the briefing."

She drew close enough to jab a finger into his chest. "Do not play the fool with me, Walker! You know as well as she does that the presence of a superior officer in the field takes precedence."

"And you know as well as I do, Pilus-" He scanned the room for the faces of any who might be stupid enough to relay what they were hearing to anyone else, and decided to chance it. "-that if literally anyone else had shown up, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Or perhaps if your daughter wasn't an arrogant, insubordinate bitch-"

"What, that's all?"

Vera had slipped in, unbeknownst to them both, still wearing her mud-spattered protective gear and her white hair coming loose from its high Garlean bun. Whatever retort he had for Camilla flew from his mind at once. Echo or no, it would never not be a relief to see her in the flesh after a mission.

Camilla rounded on her at once. "What were you playing at out there?!" she demanded.

Though the pilus towered over her in her heels, Vera remained utterly unfazed. "I carried out my existing instructions, as per the briefing."

"Do not test me! Your petulance has made a mockery of yourself and your project."

"Of you, you mean."

"How dare-"

"I slew every target we identified as a threat, and more besides," Vera pointed out, her voice quickly growing cold. "I took out more than a dozen Resistance leaders in all, and I gathered intelligence on a figure creating a schism in their ranks. You mean to tell me I was supposed to step aside from a mission I spent half a year preparing for, forsake what could be my only chance of recognition, because some spoiled little princeling decided to finally grace colonial soil?"

He could not fault her the words. He felt them and shared them, somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach.

"You will hold your tongue!" Camilla screamed, leaning her face into Vera's. "And mark me: you will be held accountable for your disrespect!"

The door slammed open, causing the three anxious privates to jump. Camilla whirled about, teeth gritted; Vera did not so much as turn to face the newcomer.

"F-Forgive me, Pilus," he stammered through an imperial salute. "I bear a message from Crown Prince Zenos yae Galvus. He seeks an audience with the one who, ah, 'interfered with his hunt.'"

With a wordless glare at Camilla, Rosenheim gave a single nod to acknowledge the summons and strode out in the direction of the Hall of the Griffin. He did not need the Echo to tell him his daughter was at his back.

"You did well today," he murmured, once he knew they were alone.

"Why are you still fucking her?" she retorted.

Another difficult question. "The crown prince will likely seek to test you. You can take my sword."

She did so, albeit with a scoff of frustration; hers had gotten cracked during her battle with a man the others had called Meffrid. Still, she could likely sense his unease, and twenty years together had taught them both not to argue against the other's intuition.

"You'll be alright." He wasn't quite certain where the platitude came from, even as it left him, but his daughter’s eyes widened as she nodded.

Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the throne room as the right hand of the new viceroy.

[mandelene]

Hey Mandy! I was wondering if I could get some hurt/comfort of the FACE fam?

Sorry for not posting this sooner! I started it two days ago and then my mind flew elsewhere lol. I hope you enjoy it! :) I figured since I tortured Madeline, Francis, and Arthur all pretty recently, it’s time to torture Alfred. (And it seems that the only fics I can write during quarantine are sickfics, unsurprisingly.)

Next to You

Word Count: 1118

Six years of being a parent and his heart still drops to his gut every time he hears one of the children crying. He panics. Every time. Even at the smallest hushed whimper.

It’s the middle of the night, 12:42 AM to be exact. The wailing startles Arthur awake and makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Worst-case scenarios flood his mind – there’s a fire, we’re being robbed, someone needs an ambulance. He rolls out of bed in a daze to investigate, and that’s when Francis begins to rouse as well.

“What’s going on?” Francis asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He kicks the covers away and searches for his slippers.

Arthur has had a few seconds to process the situation. “I think it’s Alfred.” 

“He must be feeling worse.” 

Alfred’s been fighting a virus for three days now. It appeared as a cold at first, but has since progressed into a barking cough and fever—symptoms consistent with croup. They’ve been doing their best to keep him comfortable by turning on a humidifier in his room and supplying him with fluids and cough syrup, but clearly, it hasn’t been enough.

Arthur grabs his stethoscope and a thermometer before zipping across the hall. Check for high fever, wheezing, obstruction in the lungs. Encourage postural drainage…

Midway through his mental list, he runs into a concerned Matthew, who is already stationed outside of Alfred’s room in his polar bear pajamas.

“Don’t worry, I’ll check on him, love. You shouldn’t get too close—he’s likely contagious.”

Matthew chews on his bottom lip and looks up at him with somber eyes. “Will he get better soon?” 

Before Arthur can have a chance to respond, Francis tiptoes over and wraps his arms around Matthew, trapping him in a hug.

“We’ll take good care of him,” Francis promises.

With that, Arthur lets himself into Alfred’s room and takes in the scene. In the middle of the twin-sized bed decorated with matching astronaut and galaxy themed sheets, Alfred is curled up under his star and moon duvet. He trembles from the force of his sobs and is interrupted by an occasional cough.

“Don’t cry, poppet,” is the first thing Arthur says as he immediately sits himself down next to the boy. He rubs soothing circles into his back and wipes his face clean with several tissues. “What’s wrong?” 

“I feel bad!” Alfred whines, tears dripping from his chin.

“I know, love. Let’s take your temperature again, all right? Please, don’t cry. You’ll just aggravate your cough even more,” Arthur murmurs. He places the thermometer he brought with him under Alfred’s tongue and holds it in place with one hand while his other hand pets his head.

“Maybe we should bring him into our room for the night, Arthur,” Francis suggests, still standing in the doorway with Matthew at his side.

“If that’ll help him rest…100.6 degrees. Not worrisome, but certainly high enough to cause some discomfort,” Arthur says, setting the thermometer aside. He puts his stethoscope on and listens to Alfred’s lungs and comes to a similar conclusion—he’s not in any real danger, but it’s obvious why he’s fussing. The small fever and cough must be debilitating. 

“Fix it!” Alfred bawls before suffering through another string of painful-sounding coughs.

“I know just the remedy for this,” Arthur assures him with a gentle smile. He tells Francis to lead Matthew back to bed and takes Alfred by the hand. “Come, love.”

He guides Alfred into the bathroom and turns on the showerhead. He turns the knob to the hottest possible setting it’ll go to and closes the door. 

“I had a bath already, Dad!”

“You’re not getting a shower or bath. You’re just going to breathe in the steam,” Arthur explains before plopping himself on the tiled floor and motioning for Alfred to sit in his lap. “It’ll help you cough up the mucus in your lungs.” 

Alfred gives him a teary-eyed frown but climbs into his lap anyway. “I don’t wanna cough. I’m tired of coughing.” 

 “I know, but coughing is very important. You don’t want the mucus to sit in your lungs because it can give you pneumonia and make you even more ill.”

Alfred curls up against Arthur’s chest and holds onto him tightly. Another soft sob escapes him.

“You’ll feel better soon,” Arthur says, cupping a hand around the back of his head protectively. 

 “Promise?” 

 “Have I ever lied to you?” 

 “Yeah. You told me last year that if I didn’t eat my vegetables, I would turn into a zombie.” 

 “That wasn’t a lie.” 

 “I asked my art teacher and she said that’s not possible.” 

“Well, I’ve seen many children turn into zombies from a vegetable deficiency.” 

 “Really?”

“Mmhmm. Quite common.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re a liar!” 

Arthur suppresses a chuckle and feigns offense when Alfred turns around to give him an incredulous look. “You don’t trust your own father?” 

“No!”

“Why, the nerve—!” Arthur exclaims before tickling Alfred’s sides.

Alfred squeals with laughter, and some of the light returns to his ocean blue eyes. The laughter, however, triggers his cough, and he starts to hack up phlegm.

“Good. Don’t hold it in, love,” Arthur says, becoming serious once more. He hands Alfred a plastic cup to spit into and firmly claps him on the back.

When he’s done, Alfred stares into the cup and grimaces. “Yuck.” 

“Better out than in.”

They stay in the steam-filled bathroom for another 15 minutes, by which point Alfred is too physically drained to move his limbs. Arthur lifts him with a little complaint about how the six-year-old is getting too heavy and carries him back into his and Francis’s room.

“Mon lapin! How are you feeling now?” Francis asks, still awake. He makes space in the middle of the bed for him.

“He’s all right, just very worn out,” Arthur responds, laying an exhausted Alfred down and tucking the duvet around him.

Francis makes a noise of sympathy and brushes a hand against Alfred’s forehead, casting his bangs aside. “Poor thing…We’ll nurse you back to health.”

Arthur occupies the other side of the bed, leaving Alfred between them. “Croup is always worse at night. He should feel much better in the morning. Did Matthew go back to sleep?”

“Oui, and I promised him we’ll let him know if Alfred feels worse. Our boys are attached at the hip.” 

Alfred gives another little whine, and both Arthur and Francis cuddle him on either side, offering whatever reassurance they can.

“Rest, mon chou.”  

“It’s all right, poppet.” 

At last, Alfred calms down and allows sleep to reel him in.

With both of his parents beside him, nothing can hurt him.

[helaintoloki]

Season of the Witch | Michael Langdon

chapter thirteen: Lost

masterlist

pairing: Michael Langdon x witch!reader

warnings: language, angst, violence, graphic descriptions, adult content, deception, toxic relationships, abuse, death, witchcraft, satanism and all that other good ahs stuff

notes: mostly a filler chapter, slight angst

“Y/N?” A gentle knock to the door, then the silent creak of the hinges as it’s forced open. “Dear, it’s time to eat. You need your strength.”

There is no reply from the lump hidden under the covers, and if Cordelia wasn’t so connected to her daughter she might have never known someone was still inhabiting the room. She hadn’t moved from the spot in days, hadn’t uttered a word to anyone, hadn’t so much as slept. A part of her had died forever, and y/n would never be the same again.

She had felt it, screamed in agony at the sudden emptiness in her heart. Her baby was gone, never to be seen again, and there was nothing she could do.

Cordelia silently sets the silver platter on the bedside table before carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. Y/N doesn’t move or shift her gaze, and instead continues to stare at the wall. Frowning, her mother gently combs her fingers through the girl’s greasy hair. She hadn’t showered since after the birth, and Cordelia tried not to notice.

“Y/N?” No response. Myrtle had told Cordelia not to meddle, to let the young girl heal in her own time. But the coven didn’t have time. They had to act quick in order to to prevent the antichrist from obtaining power over the coven.

“Sleep,” Cordelia murmured, and as she waved a hand over her daughter’s face, y/n’s eyes fluttered shut and she sunk into a peaceful sleep, the only good sleep she’d have since the event.

And as she slept, Cordelia was quick to remove the pain and the bad memories, so that when y/n woke she would remember almost nothing. Just her mother’s loving embrace, her sisters’ warmth, and Michael. Cold, cruel, evil Michael.

~~~

When he felt the first heartbeat dissipate Michael gave no hesitation and paid no heed to its absence. He wasn’t worried, he knew it was her. And he knew she’d be back, and in a matter of seconds she was.

However, it was the fading of the second heartbeat that brought him to his knees and knocked the wind out of his lungs. His child, his creation, his son.

He was there now, could see it all so clearly. His bouncing baby boy swaddled in blankets and cradled in the arms of a blonde woman dressed in black. Cordelia. His blood boils and fists clench at his sides as he watches the scene unfold with utter helplessness. She whispers for the baby to sleep, enchants the child with a spell Michael can’t quite make out, then sets him adrift in the stream.

Tears fall silently down Michael’s face. Tears of anger for Cordelia, tears of anguish for the loss of his son, tears of sympathy for his beloved. He can feel her sorrow as if it’s his own, and in a way it is. But at the same time Michael knows there is a special bond between mother and child that cannot be experienced by anyone else, and he sobs for her. For them.

Michael was mean, and Michael could be cruel, and Michael was known to be harsh, but with a child in the picture he would have loved her until his dying breath. What he felt for her now was not exactly love, not by definition. Y/N was a nuisance to his schemes and an obstacle, but he admired her power and her strength, her courage. Delivering the spawn of the antichrist in itself was no easy feat, and he adored her as the mother of his child. She was weak in spirit at times, rolling over constantly in hopes of pleasing her mother the supreme, but that was nothing Michael couldn’t have fixed. He would have helped her, remolded her into someone new. Someone worthy of the title as Queen of the Underworld.

But all of that was snatched away from him, and Michael now had nothing. His plans were ruined, hopes for the future destroyed, and chances of y/n joining his side slim to none.

Michael would find Cordelia. He’d find her and hurt her in every way possible, make her suffer for as long as he could before he finally killed her. He’d get his baby back, sweep y/n off of her feet, and carry them away somewhere safe, somewhere no other threat would ever find them.

And they’d be happy.

~~~

It seemed as if that so called god up in the sky had finally decided to punish Michael. First his son, and now his beloved Miss Mead reduced to nothing but a pile of ash. He collapsed to his knees, screaming in agony because he did not know what else he could do.

Michael felt sick to his stomach, body hunching over as he sobbed. Why them? Why now? When he was so close to success, so close to achieving his goals. He could feel the power, taste it on his tongue as it caressed his fingertips. The tears ran hot from his baby blues and he’d never felt more alone in his life than he did now.

“It’s over.” That damned voice. Her mere presence sends his fight or flight responses into overdrive, blood boiling and stomach churning in disgust. Cordelia Goode.

She stands there, tall and proud and smug, and Michael doesn’t think he can hate her any more than he does now. How could y/n love this woman? Call her a mother? Could she not see who the real monster was?

“We know who you are. Your allies are all dead.”

“An innocent baby,” Michael snarls, but his voice falters with pain and sorrow, “a child.”

“I did what had to be done,” Cordelia says, and there was no hint of regret or remorse in her tone. Nothing. She wasn’t sorry. Not in the slightest.

“I’ve already proven to you that I can defy death,” he scowled through his tears, “I’ll bring my son and my Miss Mead back. I’ll take y/n, and together we’ll watch you die.”

“You can go to hell, but you won’t find either of them there,” Cordelia affirms. Michael falters.

“What have you done?” He asks weakly. His throat feels raw and sore from the screams and the tears, he’s weak.

“Their souls are hidden by a spell only I can break.”

With her words Michael is instantly brought back to the river stream. He sees her lips pressed closely to his child’s ear, whispering sweet nothings that become words of Latin. And he understands the gravity of the situation, realizes his child is gone forever.

Cordelia watches as he sinks to his knees, legs giving out underneath the weight of his failure. Not so powerful now without his allies, not so strong and intimidating. Alone he is able to show his true colors, his true identity. To Cordelia he is nothing but a child, a lost soul with no one else to turn to now.

“You’re alone. But you don’t have to be,” she comforts, voice gentler now. “You don’t have to follow the path your father has made for you. If you come with me, I can help you. Y/N sees humanity in you, I see humanity in you. Maybe together we can find it.”

He watches through teary eyes as she extends a comforting hand towards him, opening a new door of opportunity, a second chance. All he has to do is take it. And he does.

Cordelia smiles, helps the boy to his feet, but doesn’t anticipate the way he harshly tugs her closer, an iron grip on her wrist and a fire in his eyes fueled by his hatred for her and her coven.

“Somehow, someway I am going to bring her back,” he swears hoarsely. “And then I’m going to slaughter each and every one of you witches. But you know what else I’m going to do? I’m going to take y/n from you, make you watch as I corrupt her and turn her against you so you’ll know what it’s like to lose. You think you know what’s best, Miss Supreme? You never should have touched my son.”

Tears fall down his face but the promise of his words ring strong in Cordelia’s ears, and she can only feel fear and unrest as he walks away. His figure disappears until he’s nothing but an outline in the distant, but he’ll always be lurking around every corner waiting to strike.

And she won’t be ready when he does.

~~~

It’s been four days. Four days without water, without nourishment, without rest. He’s fading, growing smaller. He has nothing left, but he has everything to offer. Why hasn’t my father come?

Michael pushes the hallucinations away: the children, the angels, even Miss Mead. But the sight of her, glowing and happy as she coos to the small child in her arms... Michael couldn’t keep her away even if he tried.

“You’ve got to get up, Michael,” she chastises, “what example are you setting for your son?”

“M-My son?” Michael croaks, trembling fingers reaching out to touch the baby. His feet are so tiny, untouched by the world and its sin. Michael lets out a shaky breath and shuts his eyes, body leaning forward until his face is nestled against her stomach. He stains the white fabric of her dress but she says nothing.

“Are you really giving up now? Have you given up on us?”

“I-I’m trying,” he insists, fingers bunching up the fabric of her dress in fistfuls. The dress is cool against his hot tears, she’s a breath of fresh air. “I promise I am.”

“I love you,” she whispers into his hair, “but you’re not strong enough.”

“I am,” he begs, “please don’t go. You’re all I have left now, don’t leave.”

“Be stronger. I love you.”

“God loves you,” a voice echoes, and Michael stumbles back with wide eyes. She’s gone, and in her place is an angel. His bright wings are the color of her dress before it was tainted by his touch. But perhaps she has always been tainted. Perhaps she just couldn’t see it until Michael.

Be stronger, her voice echoes, I love you. Be stronger, I love you. Be stronger.

“What do you want from me?!” He shrieks into the void, and his screams echo in reply.

~~~

It’s almost been a month since the birth of her grandson and Michael’s disappearance, and Cordelia feels hope and happiness blossom in her chest. Her girls are growing stronger each day, but y/n? Well, there’s no doubt as to who the next supreme is.

It took a few days for the side effects of Cordelia’s spell to wear off, but once they did she was a brand new witch. She held no recollection of the child she once carried in her womb or the sorrow of her loss, but she remembered Michael. And she knew he was bad, and in her newly improved mind she held no love towards him. Only the fear and hatred planted there by her mother.

“She’s doing much better,” Myrtle comments, breaking Cordelia out of her haze. The two women watch as y/n frolics out in the gardens with Binx in tow, reviving the decaying flowers and plants so that they bloom once again. “But she seems different.”

“Stronger,” Cordelia figures

“Delia, I know what you did,” Myrtle sighs. “It won’t last forever, especially not on such a powerful witch.”

“Then I can do it again,” Cordelia argues. “Until it lasts forever.”

But the effects were already fading, and as y/n’s roses grew so did the love in her heart for the boy with the blond curls and blue eyes.

And with the love came the emptiness, and with the emptiness came the resentment towards her mother.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

tag list: @ticklish-leafy-plant @touchoflangdon @anacerta @bluebirdbts @heda-mikaelson @redlovett @fuck-yeah-bruno-buccerati @ateliefloresdaprimavera @quechulitaaa @theeonlyroman @hecohansen31 @frenchzodiacgirl @michaelsapostle @hoeposey @spider-stud @frozenhuntress67 @jokingarthur @brookethompsonownsme @enigma-xlii @thederpyllamaoflove

[kate-read-that]

Sidney had taken the chance to read her father's files when the fight started, and her careful attention shifted. To be fair, it wasn't much of a fight, because everyone knew dad would win, but her sister still put some resistance, which was why Sidney loved her so much. Sometimes it looked like she could almost win. Of course, that didn't last long.

_He's a brute and an arrogant idiot. I don't want to spend more time with him than strictly necessary -Carly yelled, with her body squared for battle.

_You've already ashamed me enough by rejecting to be an alchemist and choosing to live like an irresponsible teenager. He's invited you, and his father is one of the most important alchemists in the world; -their father's words, as always, didn't give a chance to answer- you'll be charmant and he'll have a good time, and that's it.

At that point, Carly looked at her mother for help. Sidney knew it was vain hope, but she looked at her as well. Their mom was as pretty as Carly, but she looked more tired than the older sister ever had.

_Why don't we compromise? Carly goes to a date with the boy, but if she doesn't like it she doesn't have to repeat.

At that, both looked at her with a fury that was common. Sidney knew they would scream again so she took her dad's files and left the room. She knew she shouldn't read them, but she was curious about her future job, even if her father punished her later.

The fight finished with Carly running up the stairs crying, followed by a bang and her mother's sigh.

A few days later Sidney saw Carly get dressed with teary eyes while she searched for something to say that would make her sister feel better.

_ It's only a date. You won't have to go out with him again if you dont like it.

Carly huffed. Both of them hated that guy, Keith. He had spent the summer with them it had been a nightmare. The way he walked, like he owned the very floor he stepped on. How he looked at them, like they were innocent children and he was a wise adult, even when he was Carly's age. And that stupid wink that made Sidney want to hit him in the face with the thickest dictionary she could find. The chances of a second date were slim.

_It doesn't matter. If i say I don't want to see him again dad will make life impossible for me until he finds a new young alchemist to pressure me with. I can't wait to go to collegue and get the hell out of here.

_Dad knows? -Sidney loved her sister, but even though she liked studying for alchemist, she sometimes envied the freedom Carly had. She envied a lot of things from Carly, like how beautiful she was, or how delicate, or how the boys always looked at her with dreamy eyes. But she loved her over all of it, because she always stood up to dad when Sidney was terrified of even talking.

_ No need. Mom knows and she promised she wouldnt tell. And i got a good scholarship, so i don't need much money. Just a few more months... -Carly finished buttoning up her dress and twirled, looking like a magazine star. At first, she had wanted to wear jeans and a tshirt, but dad's look had made her reconsider.

_I'll miss you -Sidney's voice sounded offly quiet, so much her sister turned around and hugged her. They didn't hug much at home, but it was nice.

_I'll come visit all the time, and maybe you'll come visit at some point! I have to go, it's almost time and if I'm late dad will try to get me in a second date or something -and with a toll of eyes, she left.

..............

Sidney woke up to the sound of screams in the living room. She looked at the clock and saw it was well oast midnight. Seconds later, her sister came in banging the door and got in the bathroom without even looking at her.

Sidney got up quietly and knocked on the door, asking her sister if she needed something. She got no answer, and after trying again twice she opened the door softly, and gasped.

Carly was sitting in the shower, which was on, totally dressed. Her perfect makeup was messed up and her pretty hair barely retained the elegant bun she had had a few hours ago.

_What happened? -Sidney barely recognised her own voice.

_No...thing. Go to bed...Sidney-she could barely understand her sister with the constant crying, but she turned off the shower and brought her a towel.

_No! I... I have to clean it! -Carly screamed, turning it on again and rubbing herself with a sponge all over.

_You just need to wash your face but that can wait until tomorrow -Sidney started helping her sister get undressed, not sure about what was going on. Dad would be so mad about the dress, it was a Christmas present.

That's when she saw the bruises.

Her sister's tan skin was covered in bruises in some parts, like her hips or her thighs. It looked painful and Sidney had no idea where those came from, but her sister seemed to cry even harder when she saw them.

_You don't understand, Sidney. He... he... -Carly didn't try to talk again after that, too impacted to say anything. Sidney didn't fully understand what was going on but she could tell it was horrible.

It took Sidney half an hour to get her undressed and in bed, and another half an hour to get her calm. Luckily, her parents were already asleep because there were no other sounds in the house.

_He took me to a restaurant. I said i had never drunk alcohol, but he ordered wine anyway and promised me I'd like it. I didnt want him to tell dad I had been rude, so i took some -her voice was even quieter than Sidney's, who laid by her side absolutely quiet and listening.

_Is Dad mad about the alcohol? -she tried to guess, confused. But that wouldn't explaim the bruises... maybe they had an accident in the car?

_No... no he's mad because I said I dont want to see him ever again. And because my make up is ruined and he said there was no way I'd catch a man if i ended dates crying.

Many times Sidney disliked her dad, but there were some times she really, really hated him.

_But why are you crying?

_Oh, Sidney... you dont... you dont understand... he took me to another place later, in the middle of nowhere. I wanted to go outside and walk but he said it was too cold. I was really tired and a little dizzy with the wine so I agreed. And then he... he started kissing me.. and i tried to push him away but he was so strong... -after that Carly cried so much there was no way of getting more information of her.

But it was no needed. Sidney knew what sex was, their mom had talked a lot about sex and consent and consequences with them. Bruises made sense now. Keith had...Sidney felt the bile rise inside her as her sister screamed of shame and pain against the pillow.

Out if nowhere, a wave of rage filled Sidney filling her body. He, that idiot with that stupid wink and that arrogant smile, had hurt her sister, her beautiful, delicate, intelligent and sweet sister. How dared him. How dared him even think about hurting Carly like that. They were alchemists, saviors of the humankind that worked to help the human race and protect them. What he'd done was... but there would be consequences.

_We'll tell Dad. If he knows what happened, he'll make sure Keith gets punished. You're Carly Sage. Your father is one of the most famous alchemists in the world. There's no way dad will let anyone do that to you and walk away -Sidney gritted her teeth just thinking of it. How could he? For once, their father's rage would be good for something.

_I'll never tell dad, or mom for what matters.

_What? Why, for the love of...

_Because he wouldn't believe me, Sid. Dad loves Keith, more than us anyway. He's always wanted a son and Keith is everything he could want. He will never admit it and dad will always believe the perfect boy over us. Besides, imagine what he'd say about me now-her sister sounded... deflated. She looked so tired she almost looked like their mother. She trembled when she said his name, but she didn't look totally alive.

Sidney wanted to scream, because she knew her sister was right. Even if they convinced her dad, which was almost impossible, Carly was no longer a virgin. Dad would lose gus mind and acuse her of ashaming the family name, even if it had been against her will.

_But we have to tell someone! Mom will...

_Mom will tell us to tell Dad, because he fixes everything apparently. She can't help us because she's not an alchemist, Sidney. Look, it doesn't matter, okay? All I want is to sleep and forget today happened.

She closed her eyes and finnally succumbed, the crying had worn her down so much she didn't move in the whole night.

But Sidney didn't sleep, too filled with rage and hurt for her poor sister to do so. Instead, she thought. She searched through her brain over and over from a thousand different angles until she found a way. A way to get justice. Or, as her favourite authors would call it, vengeance. She had a plan.

............

Two weeks later, she stood before Abrahan Mazur in a very luxurious looking club at 11 am. Getting her father's office key, checking the archives and finding what she had read a few months ago took a lot of effort, but going to the library and then scaping to take a bus to the city? Every step Sidney took, part of her expected her father to appear out of nowhere.

The club had seemed closed, but the documents said he would be inside already, even if there was still some sunlight, handling his "businesses". Sidney had wanted to turn around and leave, but whenever she thought of Keith's wink and her sister cries her determination grew stronger.

_Well, I've got to admit I'm surprised. A young alchemist was the last thing I expected when I got up today -Zmey smiled with a ladine expression while he looked at her. His fangs made Sidney tremble and every single piece of information she knew about Moroi appeared in her mind frantically.

They drink blood.

They aren't alive.

They can control your mind.

They want to condemn you.

They aren't human.

But Sidney was smart. She had considered all possibilities, and this was the only way. Human police could do nothing agaisnt alchemists, and alchemists would not lay a finger on Keith. So she had to seek help from someone who didn't fear Alchemists.

_How did you know I...? -she had covered her mark with her sister's make up before coming as precaution.

_Oh, please. I can smell one of you from the other side of the road Ms...

_Sage. Sidney Sage -if he already knew what she was, hiding her name had no sense.

_Perhaps related to the famous alchemist?

_He's... my father -and he would kill me if he saw me now.

_Well, now that's a surprise. What could I possibly do for you, Sidney? I doubt your influential father needs something from me, and if he did he wouldn't send ymhis beloved daughter, I'm sure.

_I've heard you... do favours. In exchange for things -very loquacious, Sidney. Zmey seemed to think the same thing, but didn't express it out loud. Just smiled with those horrid fangs again.

_That's true, but I'm not sure what kind of thing I could do for you.

This is it.

_I want you to punish someone.

The guardians of Zmey Mazur, who had been still like sculptures until that moment, suddenly looked at her, surprised. Even Mazur seemed a little baffled, which made Sidney feel safer for some reason. But Mazur composed himself quickly.

_Punish? I guess you dont mean telling off someone?

_No, not like that. He's done something horrible, and he's got to pay -she could hear her own voice get lower with rage, and could see Mazur getting more and more interested with every word.

_I thought you alchemists had your own justice system -Mazur arched his brow, crossing his hands on the table. Sidney swallowed and tried to keep calm as her feelings tried to jump out.

_My... people can't handle it. The crime can't be proven and even if it could, the person I'm talking about belongs to a very important alchemist family. You must know, you'd anger very dangerous people.

The elegant vampire laughed at that.

_No one's more dangerous than I am, Ms Sage. And I'm not scared of a few god-fearing humans. Is this person's family more important than yours?

-Yes, that's why I need to hire you. I cant pay you right away but as soon as I'm off age I can...

_I have enough money, I got no interest in more, specially if you can give me something else. Depends on how bad his crime was.

_What... do you want then? And what he did is... not important.

_It is important, there are a thousand ways I could punish him. Think about it, you'll only have one chance.

Sidney thought about it. Whenever she'd planned this, she hadn't thought of something specific, she just wanted him to pay, to be sorry, to...

_I want him to suffer. Every day of his life, I want him to see himself in the mirror and feel as horrid as he is. I want him so destroyed he can never harm another person again without thinking about the possible repercussions. And I want him to never feel confident enough to hurt someone again- Silent followed her. She had known she was angry, but the extent of her anger scared her a little. She discovered, with a little worry, that she was sorry she couldn't hurt him herself like she had just said-. His name is Keith Darnell.

Mazur stayed quiet for some minutes before smiling again.

_I know the Darnell family. I think I can do this for you, if you do something for me in exchange.

Sidney expected to pay money, which her family had, not to do something for her. But she couldnt back down now, and even if she could, she wouldn't. Carly deserved it, she was worth it.

_What?

_Oh, not yet. You see, I prefer to keep favours in case I ever need them, and when time comes I'll ask you to do something for me, and you'll accept-Mazurs smile shone again, giving her chills-no matter what it is. Deal?

Mazur outstretched his hand, waiting.

She didnt want to, she couldn't do it. She wasn't brave and she never went against the rules. If her dqther found out... There's no way-

_Deal.

She said it. And as she shook Mazur's hand, she knew exactly what a deal with the Devil felt like.

.........

Sidney waited days. Then weeks. She thought Mazur had been joking, that he wasn't going to risk it for the possibility of getting a favour from her. She had started fearing not having alternative solutions by the time that phone call happened.

They were in the kitchen again, eating dinner quietly. Carly had finally left her bedroom and Zoe was happily playing with her food when the phone rang. Her father, of course, picked it up.

His face suddenly turned white, followed by an angry red Sidney knew well. Part of Sidney's mind sang: he knows what you did, he knows you talked to Mazur... but when his father turned around, he didn't look at Sidney, she looked at all of them.

_Its Keith... he's... he's been attacked by strigoi.

Sidney's mom silenced a scream with her hands and immediately took Zoe as if to protect her. Carly just paled as much as her father, and closed her eyes. Sidney felt like everyone was watching her as she tried to sound surprised.

_What? What's happened? -she really hoped her voice didn't sound as plastic as she heard it.

Her father turned to look at her a few seconds, but hopefully he was too astounded to realise she was trembling.

_I can't... I knew they were cruel but this... it's... he's just a young man, it was totally.... they didn't even drain him of blood...

_Dad, what happened? -Sidney knew insisting was not the best way to seem innocent, but she needed to know, needed ro make sure he had paid. She found herself feeling excited about knowing how had he paid.

_His... eye. They cut... his eye... out. He's lost his eye. The poor boy... Of course, the alchemists will give him a new glass one but...

Sidney's mom screamed again and started crying, covering Zoe's ears. Carly left running and, by the sounds of it, puking in the nearest bathroom. Sidney got up from the table and went upstairs, not even needing to fake shock.

His eye. Abraham Mazur took Keith's eye out. She immediately thought of Keith's damn wink and how handsome everyone said he was. They wouldn't think the same thing again. Sidney shot out a laugh.

She covered her mouth, looking around to check no one had heard her. She felt like a terrible person, at least for a few seconds. But she couldn't help it. She had to lock herself in a bathroom and turn the shower on because she just couldn't stop laughing. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to stop the laugher coming from inside her.

His eye. His eye was gone. He'd never wink again, and whenever he saw himself in a mirror, he'd remember the pain and the fear. Sidney kept laughing until the tears overpowered her, and then she stopped and thought she'd do whatever Mazur asked of her. Anything.

[eternaljouska]

Redamancy, Chapter 2 - Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Husband!JihoonxReader

Genre: Angst, the tiniest amount of Fluff (hopefully)

Chapter: one | TWO | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | end | epilogue |

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: Thank you for everyone who have read the first chapter. I’m extremely thankful for the reception this story got so far. Alright. There are a lot of tears, but enjoy!

–

It’s been two weeks since Jihoon exhausted his tear ducts in the watch of Seungkwan that night and his two other members on the next. His eyes are heavy and barely open. The moment when they involuntarily close is rare, only for a few hours in every two to three days. He hardly eats; his main nutrient intake is caffeine. Well, yeah, nutrient. And this is very disconcerting for his members. Seungcheol, their leader, took this upon himself to report to the company so that they would release Jihoon from any creative obligations for the time around. And Soonyoung, being the other witness to Jihoon’s breakdown, contacted Jihoon’s mom in hope that she would be able to coax her son to eat and take care of himself and his children.

Jaemin and Jimin stayed at Seungkwan’s for the first two days. At first, they were excited, but when their grandmother picked them up, they couldn’t help but feel a little bit anxious. Jaemin expressed his worry out loud as the three of them entered their silent house, “Where’s Mom?”

Mrs. Lee took a long breath, contemplating to make up some lies before she relented and chose to let the boys know her version of the truth. “Jaemin, Jimin, dear, your mom is in the hospital. But, she is okay. She is just tired. She will just sleep for a few weeks in the hospital, and then she’ll be home again.” She gave them the most sincere smile she could muster as Jimin started to sob.

“Is it- Is it because of u-us? We always ask Mommy to read. We always ask her to read us some- some story before we sleep. W-we ask Mommy to sing also.”

“Jimin, dear,” Mrs. Lee began again with tears in her eyes.

“Jimin gets bad dreams whenever Mommy reads about the Big Bad Wolf. And- And Jimin would look for Mommy. She’s always on the couch. May-maybe Mommy has bad dreams too. And Daddy is not home yet to keep Mommy safe. W-we shouldn’t ask her to read the Big Bad Wolf.”

Mrs. Lee reached for the boys and hugged them tightly. “Shh, dear, this is not your fault, okay? Your mommy will be okay. She’s not having a bad dream this time. That’s why she sleeps too soundly. Don’t be sad or angry because she sleeps too much, okay?”

Jaemin, who started to cry at the proposal of Jimin’s idea, slowly recovered and put a brave expression on his face. “It’s okay. Mommy can sleep for as long as she wants. I won’t let the Big Bad Wolf disturb Mommy.”

“Is- Is Daddy with Mommy, Grandma?” Jimin added, “I-if we can’t fight the Big Bad Wolf, and- and he would come to Mommy’s dream… If the bad dream wakes her, she’ll need Daddy.”

Mrs. Lee tries to swallow her sob, but she fails. She knew how rare it was for her son to be home, and she knew that you’re very understanding about that. But it hurt her enormously to know that even their youngest child needed to try to understand and accept the absence of his father. “Your daddy never leaves her side.” She chuckles in between her sobs. “That’s why I’m here. You boys are smarter than your daddy. Your daddy is so scared that the Big Bad Wolf will come he doesn’t even leave your mommy to eat or take a bath. I have to scold him like a little boy.”

The two boys laughed at their grandmother’s comment, and Jaemin raised his hands to wipe Mrs. Lee’s tears with his little fingers. “Don’t worry, Grandma. We are smarter than Daddy.”

“Grandma,” Jimin called out. “But can we see Mommy? We promise we’ll be good. We won’t be too loud.”

“Soon, dear. Soon.”

Mrs. Lee brought the boys to the hospital a few days after that, on Saturday, the supposed deadline for Jihoon’s demos. He naturally forgot about them. For God’s sake, even his kids slipped out of his mind until he heard the excited voice of Jimin calling for him.

“Daddy!” He ran with his arms wide open towards Jihoon who instinctively dropped down from his chair to kneel and catch his son in a hug. Jihoon tried to smile and wear his happiest face, but his red eyes didn’t escape the attention of his extraordinary boys.

Jaemin released his grandma’s hand and walked slowly towards Jihoon, “Are you okay, Daddy? Is Mommy okay? Did the Big Bad Wolf come?”

A single line grew in between Jihoon’s eyebrows as he looked up to his mother, who only stared back at him as if she’s going to cry. “Did the Big Bad Wolf come, Daddy?” Jimin repeated.

“No. No, the Big Bad Wolf can’t go inside the hospital. No need to worry.” He raised his hands to pet his sons’ heads. He only knows a little about the Big Bad Wolf. That’s a recurring role in many of Jaemin’s bedtime stories, and probably Jimin’s too. He just assumed that you still read them stories even when he never helped you with it anymore.

“Then it’s okay. Grandma also said that Mommy sleeps in the hospital so that the Big Bad Wolf won’t disturb her. And now you’re here. So if Mommy’s having a bad dream, she doesn’t need to be afraid. Just like when Jimin has a bad dream from the Big Bad Wolf, and he stays with Mommy on the couch,” Jaemin said.

A single tear escaped Jihoon’s right eye, and before his kids question him further, he enveloped both of them in his tightest embrace, which made the two boys chuckled. “Yes, Daddy’s here.” He kissed the crown of their heads and whispered to himself, “I am here.”

Jihoon was sleeping when he feels the slightest movement on your fingers that he holds. He jerks up from his seat, his heart bursting with hope. “Y/n. Y/n? Baby, you awake?” He leans towards you, speaking softly while caressing your cheek. He waits for a few seconds, but when only the clock answers to him, he rushes to the door in search of help. “Doctor?! Nurse? Anyone!”

He sees two nurses: one then follows him inside, and the other goes to get the doctor. Jihoon explains that he felt your finger moved when he was asleep. The doctor’s arrived not so long after that. He does some IV, pupillary, and other check-ups as Jihoon’s eyes go back and forth from your face to the doctor’s. His heart is beating so fast that he thinks he might need some check-ups himself. He bites on his nail, a habit he unknowingly took from you. And all of his worries at the moment are washed away as the doctor turns to him with a small smile, “She’s out of the coma. But remember, Mr. Lee, when she wakes up, you might need to give her time to adjust first. Her brain has shut down for quite some time. Don’t forget that she might also need to relearn a few things.”

Light catches Jihoon’s eyes as he smiles, “Yes, thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you.”

“Alright. I’ll leave you then. Call for me when she’s conscious.”

Jihoon acknowledges the doctor and takes his chair closer to your side and sits down, hands clutching your right one. He kisses the back of your hand a few times before he moves to give a lingering one on your forehead. “You’ll be okay, baby. I’ll be here when you open your eyes. I’ll be here.”

Jihoon is struggling to keep his eyes from closing in the wee hours of the next morning. He promises you he’ll be there when you wake up, and he means it. Although he’ll still be technically seated by your side, he refuses to enter the dreamland and miss the flutter of your lids, which is happening right this moment. The chair produces a screeching sound when Jihoon jumps out of it. One of his hand reaches for your cheek while the other one stays on yours, his teeth biting on his lower lips. His eyes are unblinking now, the drumming of his heart a faithful accompaniment to the unimaginative lyrics of ‘please’ in his head.

The movement of your fingers is minute, but he notices. He tightens his hold on your palm and voices his pleas, “Come on, Y/n. Open your eyes for me, baby. Please.”

And you oblige.

A relieved sigh escapes his lips, along with a chuckle, tears brimming over the edge of his eyes. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

You blink and then frown.

You fail to process anything around you, and you try to speak but your jaw is too stiff, and your mouth is too dry. Again, Jihoon notices your struggle. “Shh, it’s okay. Wait here for a sec, okay? I’ll call the doctor.” And with one last teary look at you, he disappears outside your room.

Your left shoulder throbs. Your head throbs. But the rest of you are numb. Your mind is numb. You are freezing, but you can feel the sweat starting to trickle down your neck and back. A tremble starts on your fingers and spreads like a wildfire to slap your whole body awake, your breath becoming shallower as the second goes. Jihoon’s panic face is the last thing your eyes manage to capture before they give up and yank you back into the dark.

Faintly, you hear him screams your name. You feel exhausted, and within the haze, you wonder why there’s only Jihoon in your room. You feel like giggling as you remind yourself to ask him that when you wake up again later.

You’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last five days. It’s normal, the doctor said, when Jihoon vigorously convinced him that he hadn’t dreamed of you waking up—he saw your eyes opened. And just like that early morning, he holds your hand tight and close to his tender lips when your lids flutter open once again. Jihoon gasps out your name as you squint your eyes due to the brightness of the white room.

You feel a bit better, your body still numb but you can process your surroundings. You try to move your head to look at Jihoon only to see tears in his eyes. “Hi,” he whispers with a small smile.

And you feel like giggling again. You remember your question from when you heard Jihoon screamed. You’ll ask him, but first, “Hi.” Your voice is hoarse, and Jihoon is quick to give you a glass of water while helping you to raise your head.

“Better?”

You nod before you clear your throat and say, “My shoulder.”

He chuckles a little, “It’s okay. Take it easy. You had a fracture, left shoulder and arm. The doctor said you’ll recover in about six weeks, or about three weeks from now.”

You nod again. “So I guess, I was out for three weeks?” And you see Jihoon’s expression turns somber, so you refrain yourself for asking what happened. The most important thing is that now you’re okay, or at least you will be, in three more weeks. Instead, you opt to ask him the burning question in your head. “Why are you here alone?” To your surprise, Jihoon’s face contorts, and he breaks down in tears.

“I’m sorry, the kids are at Seungkwan’s since last week. Since it’s closer. I’m so sorry, I-I just can’t leave you alone.”

“Shh, now. It’s okay. I’m okay, shh.” You free your right hand from Jihoon’s and bring it around his figure. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“I was scared. I am scared, Y/n. I thought… I thought you’re gonna… And it’s all gonna be my fault.” He sobs into your neck, your hand moves from his head to his shoulder as you remove him from your embrace.

“Your fault? What… What happened?”

“You- you were in a car accident, and it’s- It’s all my fault. I’m sorry, Y/n, I’m sorry.”

“Please, I don’t… I don’t get it. Why? Did- did you drive?

He shakes his head once and looks down to his hand. “Then it’s not your fault. It’s okay.”

You search for his eyes, but he continues to shake his head. “No, Y/n, you don’t understand. We- we fought. I used your car, and you asked me to pick up the kids, and I- I was still mad, and- and you took the cab, and you had an accident, and it’s all because of me. I- I should’ve just picked them up, but instead I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Oppa, look at me. Calm down. Calm down.” You raise his chin with your fingers so that you can meet his eyes.

“Please, please forgive me. I couldn’t imagine living without you. I couldn’t imagine never be able to apologize to you. I’m a jerk. I’m the worst. I should’ve just picked them up. They’re my kids, too. And now I left them with my mom at Seungkwan’s. I’m such a jerk. I’m-“

“Hold on,” you cut him in the middle of his speech. “Stop right there. What did you say?”

Jihoon is lost. He was so caught up in his remorse and apology that he can’t understand why you stopped him or what you’re asking him. “What?”

“Your kids? They’re your kids, too? Who… What are you-“

“What?” Your question throws him out of balance, his own question coming out as a gasp, and he can’t seem to make his brain to work.

You and Jihoon look at each other with deep frowns on each of your foreheads. The sound of the clock’s hand is deafening, and time flows leisurely as your lungs try to outspeed it. “I thought- I thought when you said the kids are at Seungkwan’s you meant the other members. But- Oppa, I- I-“ Your head aches, and the time is now running with your lungs. You keep calling out for Jihoon, but you can’t hear your own voice.

Jihoon, on the other hand, is looking at you as if you’ve stabbed him so that he can’t follow you to your race. Tears are streaming down his face as he struggles to form his sentences. “Baby, you don’t… you don’t remember? They’re our kids, our boys, Jaemin and Jimin, uh?” He looks at you, but you don’t know anything he’s saying. You shake your head while he continues to prod on you, “We- You asked to name our youngest after BTS’ Jimin. Do you remember?” He chuckles in between his own sobs, but it only makes your breathing harder.

You can see the pain in his eyes when he sees you keep shaking your head in tears, your lips mouthing his name. “But- but you remember me, right? Right? We- we married eight years ago. Baby, you don’t-“ Jihoon stops himself when he heard you wheeze. “Shit. Take a breath, please. Please, please, it’s okay. Take a breath. Doctor! Please someone, nurse! Doctor!”

Jihoon sits outside, placing his head on his left palm as he searches for Seungkwan’s name on his contact list and calls him. He picks up on the second ring. “Hyung? Hyung! What happened? Why are you crying? Hyung?”

For a few moments, only sobs are audible from Jihoon’s side of the phone. Until he cuts Seungkwan’s panic outburst with his broken voice, “She- she’s awake. She’s alive. She’s alive, Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan lets out a loud sigh, “Oh, God. Thank God. You scared me, Hyung. I thought something bad happened. How’s she?” He waits for Jihoon to respond, but the latter only sobs harder. “Hyung? Hyung? You can stop crying. She’s okay now. She’s awake. Hyung, she’s okay, right? Hyung, talk to me! Hyung!”

“She- she- she doesn’t remember. Seungkwan, she doesn’t-“

“What?!” Seungkwan is silence for a good second. He audibly takes a long, shaky breath as he recalls the day you’re admitted before he weakly continues, “So the prediction’s correct, huh?. I’m… I’m sorry, Hyung. What did the doctor say?”

“He’s inside. With her.” Jihoon runs his fingers through his hair. He grits his teeth when he speaks again. “I know something’s off when she called me oppa. She never does after we’re together. What am I supposed to do, Seungkwan? I can’t- I’m so stupid. So so stupid. I should’ve-“

“Hyung! Stop that! You should stop blaming yourself. What happened, happened, and it’s not your fault, okay? The doctor said it’s temporary. We can help her remember.”

“But the doctor doesn’t even know how long temporary’s gonna be! It can’t be forever. Seungkwan, it can’t be. She can’t live without remembering any of these. And I-“

“Hyung!” Seungkwan snaps at him. “Listen to me. You can’t be like this. Not when she needs you. You have to be strong for her. How… What is the last thing she remembers, do you know?”

“She knows me, us Seventeen. She thought- she thought I was talking about you guys when I mentioned the kids.” At this point, Jihoon’s sobs have subdued. He stands up and watches the doctor talking with the nurse.

“Okay. She’s not far behind, I hope. At least we’re not strangers to her. Now, we need to know what year she thinks we’re in. I’m on my way. Take care, Hyung.”

Jihoon ends the call and faces the doctor, “How is she?”

–

[tiaraofsapphires]

Rebelcaptain Appreciation Week: Day 4

Writing Prompt: Carry

(CW: pregnancy)

While fighting with the Partisans, Jyn saw child soldiers fight and die in the name of destroying the Empire. She was a child soldier too, but she had the privilege of growing old enough to experience life a little.

Children had their necessary roles with the Alliance, never on the front lines, but she knew that their childhoods were stolen.

She knew that if the future brought her a family, she would bring them into a world where there was no need for child soldiers or maintenance workers or messengers.

Future and children and things like that were thoughts to be had after the war, not during it.

She, of all people, didn't dare think of it. But, when her cycle lapsed for a month, creeping towards two months, she snuck into the medbay for a couple of those tiny plastic tests.

Creeping back into her quarters like someone who absolutely was hiding something, she locked herself in her tiny ‘fresher. It came back positive, again and again.

It should’ve been impossible, but then she remembered. She had gotten shot right where her birth control implant was during a recon mission gone bad. It had to be removed in surgery and she kept forgetting and forgetting to get it replaced.

She leaned heavily against the tiny sink in her quarters, knees weak.

She was pregnant. And of course, there was nobody who could be the father but Cassian. The captain, the spy.

With this piece of information, she didn't know what to do.

It did her no good that it was the beginning of the day and she wasn’t going to be seeing Cassian until the evening. Now, she could only hold this knowledge inside her until it was unbearable.

Jyn went to the target range, something she loved to do regardless of the day, but each press of the trigger brought a trill of fear and anxiety down her chest.

The only comfort she found in it was the routine of putting together and taking apart her blaster. She could do that with her eyes closed, a mindless action that at least gave her hands something to do other than shake uselessly by her sides.

She didn't see Cassian much during the rest of the day. He was busy with meetings and bureaucracy that she was glad to be spared from. They crossed paths briefly, not long enough that Cassian could see that something was wrong. She could at least shield him from the life-changing news for a little while. K2 eyed him like he could see right through her.

During supper in the mess, she didn't talk to the people sitting around her. Bodhi tried to get some conversation out of her, but she could only smile wanly and give one-word answers.

Her thoughts were consumed. Jyn didn't know how or even if she should tell Cassian.

She tried to justify it to herself. If she died before she could tell Cassian, then he would only have the carry the heartbreak of losing his partner. If he died before she could tell him, he would die without knowing that a piece of him could go on to live in a galaxy that would be consumed by war for an untold amount of time.

And then the more reasonable part of her screeched that of course she needed to tell him before she literally broke down from the stress of it.

She didn't even know if he had wanted a family.

Her food cold and unappetizing, Jyn stormed back to the barracks, chewing on her lip, flopping onto the bed that smelled like Cassian.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she sent a brief message to him, asking him to come to their room. Well, technically, it was his room. Since he outranked her, he had the better barracks accommodation and she wasn’t going to live in a broom closet if she could help it.

The panic set in again.

How would she even begin to explain herself to him? Should she make a joke? Be entirely serious about it?

Her chin trembled.

No, she was just going to be teary until Cassian arrived.

“Jyn?”

She jumped a little, unable to fully turn towards the voice in the doorway.

“Cassian.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

The bed dipped as he sat down next to her.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it?”

She bit her lip, already feeling tears build up in her eyes.

“I—,” she cut off, sniffing a little.

His hand came up to touch her back. It should’ve been comforting, but she still jumped and flinched at the touch.

Immediately, the touch disappeared.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, concern plain in his voice.

She turned to him, trying and failing to school her face to make Cassian worry a little less. It didn't work as the sorrowful expression on Cassian’s face broke her heart. She hiccupped, “Why do you think you did something wrong?”

Tears dribbled over her face and she quickly turned away, trying to hide it.

“You’ve been acting strangely. Bodhi had messaged me, worried about you. Even K2 had mentioned that you were acting strangely.”

She made a face. Of course, the droid had noticed. He had a profile on her and could tell when her behavior strayed from normal. She was surprised K2 didn’t find out and tell Cassian already.

“I guess I have been acting a bit weird lately.” She sucked in a breath and let it out. “I’m pregnant.”

Cassian stiffened instantly, his breath audibly hitching in his chest. Silent, painfully silent.

Jyn wiped her hands on her pants, mumbling, frantic. “We had never talked about it. I know this isn’t a good time. The war, everything. I just thought I’d let you know, while I had the chance.”

She cleared her throat, wiping her face with her hand.

“Please say something,” she pleaded.

The answer was a kiss pressed to the back of her neck.

“You’re pregnant.”

She nodded, huffing under her breath. “That’s what I said.”

His hands rubbed up and down her back now, in slow, tentative movements, like he was afraid of breaking her.

“We’re going to have a child?” His forehead pressed against her shoulder to punctuate the question. “This wasn’t the plan. I had thought, maybe in few years, after the war was over, we would have this conversation. You—you want it, right?”

A beat of hesitation. The war was still going on, and showing little sign of letting up. What sort of world would they be bringing a child into? “Yes.”

He sucked in a breath. “Okay, okay. We’re going to be okay.”

It sounded like he was reassuring himself more than he was to her.

“You’re scared,” she murmured.

He laughed. “I am. Are you?” She could hear the exhilarated smile on his face.

“Of course, I’m scared.”

He shook his head, tone turning sorrowful. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been there when you found out.”

“I don’t think that would’ve made me any less scared,” she sighed.

“I suppose. Who knows about this?”

She shrugged. “Maybe one of the nurses in the medbay, if they caught me sneaking the tests out, but I found out on my own, so I don't think anyone knows.”

For now, it was their secret. She could relish in that.

Cassian shifted closer, pressing himself against her back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He was warmth, comforting and surrounding her.

She closed her eyes and leaned into it, her heartbeat finally slowing a bit.

“What do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?”

She could feel him shrug against her. “I mean, where are we going to go from here?”

Jyn shrugged back. “I don't know. How do I contribute to the war effort if I’m pregnant? I can fight for now, but after that, I’m gonna be too big to go on missions.”

She glanced up at him when he went silent for a few moments. He looked like he was going to argue something, but thought against it. She could guess that he was about to insist she stop going into combat missions right now.

He was right to keep that to himself. She wasn’t going to stop fighting, for the Rebellion and now for the little symbol of the future that grew inside her.

“You’re a good strategist, Jyn. We will need you in the war room. You won’t be on the sidelines.”

She turned in his arms to look at his face. His eyes were shiny, but he still smiled down at her.

“We are going to be okay. I promise you that.”

Jyn pressed her face against his chest, hiding the fresh wave of tears that threatened to overwhelm her. “I thought we said we wouldn’t say stuff like that.”

“I’m taking back what I said,” Cassian murmured. “We are going to be okay. This war will end. We will have a family together and we won’t have to worry anymore.”

With their luck, the timing wouldn’t work well at all. She didn't want to think about her child living in a galaxy at war, but there was a chance they wouldn’t have a choice.

“You promise?” she asked, regardless.

Cassian wasn’t one to make those kinds of statements. A spy didn't have that luxury, but he regarded her with a softness that he reserved for times when she was at her lowest.

“I promise.”

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight.

[golden-redhead]

OUMOTA WEEKEND #2 - Hogwarts AU

The Prefect Badge

Pairing: Ouma Kokichi/Momota Kaito

Word count: 10520

Read on AO3.

“Prefect?” exclaimed Momota staring incredulously at Ouma.“You are a prefect?!”

Momota’s jaw was hanging low, the look on his face completely dumbfounded as he gaped at Ouma with almost comically wide eyes. His grip on his wand loosened, threatening to slip out of his hand right into the cauldron full of boiling potion he’s been working on for the last half an hour. But none of that mattered as he just stared at the shiny prefect badge resting against the other student’s chest, gleaming in the dim light of the Potions classroom.

Ouma feigned innocence, continuing to hum tunelessly under his breath. He didn’t even look up at Momota, instead focusing on stirring the boiling contents of his cauldron with his wand with apparent disinterest.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Momota-chan,” he responded sweetly, flashing Momota a quick smirk and batting his eyelashes in a way that was supposed to look innocent but was anything but. “Me? Prefect? Puh-lease!”

There was a playful note in his voice, his eyes sparkling mischievously and long shadows cast by the dancing flames of the candles lined up along the length of the wall framing his pale face with a warm glow.

Momota’s brows furrow in irritation. He reached out his hand to poke the badge resting neatly at the front of Ouma’s dark purple robe with a little bit too much force than necessary, making the smaller boy stumble back slightly.

“Cut the shit,” he spat as he leaned in to look at the badge closer, as if making sure that it was real. There was nothing that would indicate that it wasn’t the case, however, as the badge looked like any other prefect badge he’s seen before, a simple silver letter 'P' engraved on an emerald background.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as a new idea hit him. “Did you steal it?”

For a split second, Ouma’s face went completely blank, perfectly wiped of any trace of emotion, with his unnaturally still, doe-like eyes looking at Momota.

Then something in his expression shifted and it was gone as soon as it appeared, emotionless slate giving place to a teary face that Momota was all too familiar with. Ouma lips trembled and lilac eyes filled with big fat tears that gleamed in the corners of his eyes, giving them a glassy look and threatening to spill all over his cheeks.

“W-why would Momota-chan a-accuse me of such a heinous act,” he sobbed, throwing a choked up hiccup here and there. He looked up at Momota with such raw misery written all over his face that it would almost fool him if only he hasn’t seen it too many times to count.

The words of protest started to form on Momota’s lips, but before he could voice any of them Ouma already blinked the tears away, his eyes dry once more and a smile creeping on his face.

“Ohh, or maaaybe big dumb Momota-chan is just jealous of lil old me,” giggled Ouma, dragging the vowels in this annoying way of his that never failed to annoy the other boy. He seemed to be vibrating in place as if he was enjoying it immensely, his own potion long forgotten in favor of teasing the fellow Slytherin.

The smug smile stretching on his lips made Momota feel like wrapping his hands around his thin neck and squeezing, squeezing until his face turned blue. He could feel Saihara’s worried stare on his back all the way from where the Ravenclaw was sitting in the far corner of the classroom, the potion in his cauldron matching the description from their potions book perfectly, its deep emerald color mesmerizing to look at.

Feeling a pang of embarrassment at the poor state of his own work Momota turned his attention to his own cauldron which looked as if he dumped all the ingredients he had on the table into it, bubbles forming on the surface. It looked nothing like Saihara’s potion, more like someone threw up inside. Twice. And then there was the stench, like unwashed socks stuffed with rotten eggs and soaked in lemon juice.

Momota scowled at his cauldron, hands curling into fists at his side. He could feel a familiar prickle of irritation, though what it was directed at he couldn’t tell. He sent Ouma a sharp glare as if the smaller boy was to be blamed for his academic failure, but the gleam of the flames from the nearby candles reflected on the polished surface of Ouma’s new badge distracted him. He let out a huff of annoyance and brought his attention back to his cauldron in hopes of salvaging his mess but he quickly found out that no matter how much he tried, he simply couldn’t focus on the task. Now that he knew it was there he couldn’t stop but let his eyes wander to the badge adorning Ouma’s chest, annoyed with how it was catching the light of the candles or how it looked like Ouma was puffing his chest proudly whenever he caught him looking at it. He tried to focus on his assignment, but he knew it was hopeless, his thoughts a scattered mess. He refused to give up, however, hoping against hope that he can still turn things around. It was only after the contents of his cauldron almost exploded in his face that he finally resigned and accepted his fate. Murmuring a quick spell under his breath he vanished the embarrassing proof of his failure from the cauldron.

He was already at the door, long robes swishing and curling around his legs with every step, when he felt a small and cold hand wrap loosely around his wrist making him stop in his tracks and look behind him.

Ouma again.

“Aren’t you gonna congratulate me?” He teased. He didn’t specify what Momota should congratulate him for. He didn’t have to.

Momota’s eyes flickered back to the badge on his chest, that somewhat familiar burst of irrationality burning inside of him once again. He couldn’t quite place where it was coming from, but he knew that he had to get out of here, had to escape Ouma’s weirdly piercing gaze. He couldn’t stay here any second longer.

“Congratulations,” he managed to spit out through gritted teeth and then jerked his arm out of Ouma's loose grip and stormed out of the classroom before anyone could stop him again.

*

A few hours later Momota found himself in the Great Hall around the dinner time. He usually loved being here, loved the enchanted candles floating above the students’ heads creating a well-lit atmosphere and a chance to catch up with his friends in the warm hustle and bustle of it all. But for some unexplained reason the room lacked its usual charm and the effort required to chew the food in front of him didn’t seem worth it. Akamatsu took the empty place next to him. It was typical for their group of friends to migrate between the tables of different Houses and about everyone in Slytherin was used to having their table swarmed by Momota’s friends. Barely anyone batted an eye anymore.

Akamatsu immediately sensed his bad mood. At first she tried to distract him, chattering about her holidays and sharing her thoughts about the first classes of the new academic year. But when all he did was respond with grunts and laconic half-assed comments, she finally gave up and with little coaxing on her part he ended up reporting what happened during his Potions class and how he found out that Ouma became one of this year’s prefects.

“At least that explains why I couldn’t find him anywhere on the train,” he grumbled nudging his potatoes with a fork and following them with his eyes as they rolled across the plate. He didn’t really feel hungry anymore. It was a real shame considering how delicious the food at Hogwarts was.

“Oh, that’s right!” Akamatsu perked up and raised her hand to rest it gently against his shoulder, offering a single comforting pat. “Prefects are required to go into the prefect carriage. They usually have to patrol the corridors during the ride to Hogwarts. That’s too bad, you two usually ride the train together, don’tcha?”

Oh.

Oh, right.

He didn’t think about it, but now that she mentioned that, Ouma’s yesterday absence on their way here suddenly made much more sense.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, the familiar prickle of annoyance resurfacing again at the reminder. He managed to forget all about his ride here and the foul taste of disappointment when it became clear that Ouma won’t be joining him. His friends kept him company, so he couldn’t complain, but it was still so unlike Ouma to not even try to find him and at least say ‘hi’.

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him exactly but he couldn’t help but feel the bitter feeling rising and swelling in his chest whenever he thought about it.

He opened his mouth to ask Akamatsu what she thought about Ouma becoming the prefect but it was then that he noticed Ouma’s familiar figure in the corner of his eyes, heading towards them followed by a string of first-year Slytherins trailing two steps behind him.

“And here we are, my faithful minions!” he announced once they reached the main dining area, puffing out his chest and gesturing to the Slytherin table with a sweeping arm motion that reminded Momota of a Muggle magician presenting his successful trick. His long robe swished along with the movement. “Be sure to remember the way here tomorrow because I won’t be there to help you, nishishi!”

A chorus of giggles and thank you’s came from the first years and then they scattered to sit at the table and eat, leaving Ouma looking after them with an expression not unlike that of a proud parent letting his children into the world.

“They grow up so fast,” he sniffed, raising his hand to wipe imaginary tears from his eyes.

“Hello, Ouma-kun!” Akamatsu’s entire face brightened as she smiled at him and gestured to the free place next to her on the bench, offering him a seat. “How have you bee-?”

“What are you doing here?” The one who interrupted her was Momota, face scrunched up. His stare was fixed on Ouma.

Ouma turned to them as if only now noticing their presence.

“Oh, Momota-chan, Momota-chan, my beloved Momota-chan,” sing sang Ouma skipping closer to where Momota and Akamatsu were sitting, an annoyingly wide smile plastered on his face and dark hair bouncing along with every skip. He ignored Akamatsu’s offer to sit next to her and plopped down on the bench next to Momota and leaned against him, batting his eyelashes. “I’m just doing my job as a prefect!”

“Then why are you calling them your minions?”

“‘Cuz they are, duh! Minions, subordinates, underlings. I tell them what they have to do and they do,” he beamed. “I call them DICE!”

“That sounds rather rude, Ouma-kun,” interjected Akamatsu, a small frown playing on her face.

Ouma shrugged. “It’s not if they like it! And now please do excuse me, I have urgent prefect matters to attend to. Nishishi, see ya!”

Momota watched him skip away, staring wistfully at the prefect badge.

He felt relief washing over him when the time to head for his next class finally came, forcing him to focus his attention on something other than Ouma.

*

Throughout the next three months Momota did his best to focus on his studies and catch up with friends he hadn’t seen the whole summer while spending the holidays with his Muggle grandparents. Their fifth year at Hogwarts quickly proved to be much more challenging than any of the previous ones and soon he found himself drowning in assignments, homeworks and studying sessions for Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations that would decide about his future. He was determined to get the best grades possible and prove himself.

He was determined to prove that even a Slytherin could succeed and do something good.

During that time his relationship with Ouma grew colder, even if only barely so. He didn’t think much of it, though, it was just the natural order of things. Everyone was busy in their fifth year as it wasn’t easy to find some spare time between studying and quidditch practices. When he actually had some free time he prefered to spend it just hanging out with his closest friends, who happened to be from different Houses, and only coming back to the Slytherin dormitories to sleep. He never liked the cold interior of the Slytherin’s common room and the sounds of the lake water lapping against the windows spooked him upon his first arrival to the school. He felt more comfortable among the stars rather than under the ground, trapped in an underwater cage.

It’s not that he was actively avoiding Ouma, they still shared most of their classes, the same House and slept in the same room. But they didn’t talk quite as often as a year before, both of them focused on their own devices.

And then there was still that unpleasant churning sensation in his stomach whenever he caught a glimpse of Ouma’s badge. He had no idea what that was about, so as he always did with most things that he didn’t know how to deal with - he ignored them.

Ouma and him were close but there always was certain animosity between them, their personalities clashing in the most spectacular of manners. During the first year at Hogwarts they argued constantly, Ouma’s petty pranks rubbing Momota exactly the wrong way. Somehow Ouma knew perfectly how to rile him up and he never hesitated to use this knowledge. Throughout the years they reached a truce of sorts, some thin bond of trust and sympathy. Momota wished to believe that there was a part of Ouma that, despite his best attempts to prove him otherwise, was honourable and that he deserved the trust that Momota had put in him.

Ouma was… difficult.

Momota could never understand his motives, as if he was functioning in some different kind of reality where the values and logic that Momota was used to simply didn’t work. He always wanted to believe in the best in people, believe in their ability to change and do better.

Ouma was his exact opposite in almost every aspect, deaf to Momota’s reasoning and not conforming with any rules set in place.

An immovable object against Momota’s unstoppable force.

But the worst was the way he acted ever since he got the prefect badge. If Momota thought that he was insufferable before, always pulling pranks left and right and never respecting any kind of authority, then now it went up to an eleven in intolerance. The list of Ouma’s shenanigans was long and still ongoing despite gaining his respected title.

He looked for books that were not returned to the library in time only to curse them so the person who borrowed them would have some weird writing on their face or a ridiculous hair colour until the book is returned. He was constantly breaking into other common rooms under the suspicion that something illicit could be going on in there (which, admittedly, happened on an occasion or two). When he was caught and chastised by the Gryffindor’s Head Girl he sneaked at night and casted the Caterwauling Charm at the entrance to the Gryffindor’s common room in revenge, so she couldn’t bring her Ravenclaw boyfriend there anymore unless she wanted everyone to know. By far the worst, however, was sending Howlers to people who were late to class (with detailed instructions how to get there for dummies) or out of the common room at night. Almost every day there was at least one unlucky student who would get a red envelope containing a shrieking, angry message that was impossible to ignore. There was also this one incident when he poured someone's secretly brewed illegal love potion to their own drink instead of telling one of the professors. From what Momota’s heard it was a beautiful disaster that ended up with one trip to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and the longest detention any Hogwarts student faced in almost two hundred years.

Momota was bravely putting up with all of Ouma’s bullshit (which in this case meant that he would complain about it to anyone who was willing to listen at every chance he got) but then came the moment when he could no longer ignore Ouma and his prefect fuckery.

One day by the end of November Momota left the dungeons early, heading to the Great Hall to grab something to eat and then hurry to watch Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff’s joint quidditch practice. On his way there he had to pass the House points hourglasses looming impudently on both sides of the Entrance Hall. He almost passed them at first, only to realize that something didn’t quite look right. He frowned, turning to investigate them, confusion swirling on his face. In the corner of his eye he could spot a group of Hufflepuff third years pointing at the hourglasses, specifically at the Gryffindor one, and discussing in hushed voices.

Momota scratched his head, intrigued, but then his stomach grumbled angrily. He let out a quiet chuckle and with one last glance at the House points headed to the Great Hall.

It was still early, so he wasn’t surprised by the lack of anyone at the Slytherin table, only a few students scattered between the benches of other Houses and trying to not fall asleep over their breakfast. He was just about to give up and sit alone when he spotted a familiar face at the Gryffindor table.

“MAKI ROLL!” He hollered loud enough for a few startled faces to turn, already striding in her direction.

He plopped down next to her with a wide smile on his face. She barely acknowledged his presence, merely turning her head in his direction and sending him a stoic look from underneath the long bangs of her dark hair.

“Yo, Harumaki!” He greeted her, already reaching for the porridge over her shoulder and not waiting for her to greet him back. “Do you know what happened to Gryffindor’s points hourglass? You guys lost like, one hundred points since last night, what’s that about?”

A deep scowl crossed her face, lips clamped tightly. For a long moment it looked like she wasn’t about to respond and simply continue her breakfast as if she hadn’t heard him. But then finally she opened her mouth, a rare look of hesitance crossing her face before she spat a single word.

“Ouma.”

Momota froze in place, spoon stopping halfway on its way to his mouth.

“Wait, what?” He straightened, sending her a disbelieving look. “What the hell has he done this time? He’s not even in Gryffindor!”

“No,” she agreed curtly, raising a cup of tea to her lips, her expression as stoic as ever. “But he is a prefect.”

Momota still stared at her incredulously, unable to process this new information.

Harukawa took a sip of her tea, slender fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic, purposefully trying to ignore the look he was giving her. When he continued to stare at her, however, she let out a barely audible sigh and tuned to him, irritation drawing deep lines in her forehead.

“Ouma caught me yesterday night past curfew doing… something.” Her eyes flickered shut for a second, the hand resting on the table twitching slightly as she thought the urge to comb her fingers through one of the ponytails cascading down her shoulders. “He docked about eighty points from Gryffindor.”

“What? WHY?!”

Harukawa shifted in her place, her lips tugged upward and a dangerous glint plating in her blood red eyes.

“I had a small… disagreement with some kid from Ravenclaw.”

Momota’s brows furrowed together.

“Yeah, but-”

“Leave it, Momota.” She commanded, the tone of her voice definite, leaving no space for further discussion.

His mouth snapped shut obediently as he was still trying to wrap his head about what he’s heard, Harukawa’s explanation somehow leaving him with more questions than answers.

He let the silence envelope them for a moment, lost in his own thoughts for once. He almost didn’t notice as Harukawa put her cup back on the table with a quiet clank and then turned to face him.

“I’m leaving,” she announced, not waiting for his response.

She stood up, grabbing her wand and bag. Momota raised his hand to wave her goodbye and ask if they’re still going to study with Saihara later when he caught a glimpse of something… worrying. Unusual.

When Harukawa stood up her robes parted, revealing a patch of skin that neither the skirt she was wearing underneath nor the long red stockings could hide. There, nestled on her thigh was a nasty wound, its striking red shade standing out against the skin. It looked fresh, unlike other pale scars scattering her skin in an almost decorative pattern.

“What the hell?”

Unconsciously, he reached out his hand to brush his fingers against the wound, as if to make sure that it’s real and his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him.

Her head whipped around, as if sensing his intentions and before he could grasp what was happening his arm was already being pulled, clutched in a painful grip, a choked up yelp escaping his lips at the intensity with which she trapped him in her grasp. He fought to catch the breath that was knocked straight out of him, his eyes prickling with tears.

“Do you want to die?” Came a threat that sent a shudder crawling down the length of his spine.

“N-no,” he managed to rasp out and her grip loosened slightly but didn’t let go. “It’s just… your leg…”

A look of surprise crossed Harukawa’s face as she quickly looked down. She quickly spotted the wound. Her stupefied expression made it clear that she had no idea of its existence.

“It must have been where Ouma’s spell hit me,” she muttered quietly, more to herself than to Momota whom she seemed to forget all about at the moment. Her grip loosened, taking Momota by surprise. He fell on the ground, letting out a short hiss when his knees hit the floor.

Blaring siren alarms went off in Momota’s head as he slowly lifted himself from the ground, red hot anger bubbling in his stomach as her words started to sink in.

“Ouma did it?” He growled, anger flaring up in his chest violently.

She turned to him, eyes gleaming threateningly.

“I told you already. Leave it.”

Momota shook his head, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He was fine with his bullshit up until now but now the little shit crossed the line.

“I’m gonna have a talk with him,” he snarled through bared teeth and raised to his feet, ignoring Harukawa’s protests and rushing out of the Great Hall as if he was being chased.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to look for him long as he found Ouma at the Entrance Hall just as he was heading to the Slytherin’s common room hidden in the dungeons, his hair pulled into a low ponytail and dark bruises decorating the pale skin under his eyes.

“OUMA!” Momota roared angrily, approaching him quickly with long sweeping steps, almost tripping over his own feet in the hurry.

By the time he reached Ouma he was panting heavily, his eyes screaming fury and hand wrapping around the wand in the a deep pocket of his robes and pulling it out, ready to use it if need be.

Ouma turned to him, slamming his usual cheeky smile in place, as if he didn’t see Momota’s disheveled state and anger almost emanating from him in waves.

“Good morning, Momota-chan,” he chirped cheerfully. “How can I help you today?”

“Can you explain that?!”

He gestured to the Gryffindor’s hourglass looming above their heads, almost spitting saliva in Ouma’s face.

The smaller Slytherin looked up, his face pulled in an innocent smile.

“Hm, if I’m not mistaken it’s one of the House points hourglasses,” he responded cheerfully. “It is used to record the number of points that each House gained or lost during the academic year. It’s been here ever since Hogwarts was created. I’m pretty sure Professor Binns can explain it in more details during his classes, Momota-chan, but I’m afraid it’s in the first years’ syllabus so you might have to go back a few years. Don’t worry, though, there’s no shame in it! We all know you’re a big dummy!”

He grinned, satisfied with Momota’s momentarily dumbfounded expression.

It took him half a minute to snap out of it, angry at letting Ouma play him like this.

“Harumaki says you are responsible for this!”

Ouma hummed tunelessly, lifting his hand and inspecting his fingernails.

“Oh, did she?” His lips twisted into a smirk. “Welp, maybe I did! Ooor maybe I didn’t! Nishishi, take your pick, Momota-chan.”

“Stop messing with me! I have no reason to not trust Harumaki. And I’ve seen what happened to her leg!”

Ouma stared, all traces of emotions vanishing from his face within seconds, leaving just a blank slate and wide lilac eyes staring at Momota with an intense detached look that didn’t match his round childish face.

“Hey, Momota-chan,” Ouma questioned, “did Harukawa-chan even tell you what actually happened?”

“No.” He retorted without thinking. “Not that she needed to!”

Ouma laughed, a weird bitter note rescounding in his voice.

“Figures. Then I suggest that you ask her.”

Momota’s never heard Ouma sound so cold, so curt. It only infuriated him more. He had no reason to not trust Harukawa. Meanwhile, Ouma was famous for being a liar, his skills putting him in the trouble’s way constantly. Momota was pretty sure that there was not a single honest bone in his body.

“You are going to go to Harumaki and apologize,” decided Momota. “Now.”

Taking away so many of Gryffindor’s points, even if in the heat of the moment, was bad enough but hurting another student? That was low, even for Ouma.

Ouma’s expression hardened, eyes sharp.

“No. Harukawa broke the rules and she knows what she did. She should be glad that I didn’t report her to one of the professors and made sure that the other kid won’t say a word.”

Momota gritted his teeth, practically seething at this point. He didn’t like the accusatory tone in Ouma’s voice. He had no right to put all the blame on her when he was the one responsible for her injury.

“Oh yeah? Should she also be glad that there’s an ugly scratch on her leg? This is what you call justice, Ouma?”

“Hm? Since when is Momota-chan a specialist on justice?” Ouma tilted his head to the side, a mocking tone coating his words. “You barely spend time in your own common room, always sneaking away with Harukawa-chan and Saihara-chan at nights and violating Merlin knows how many rules. You helped Hagrid drag a dangerous magical creature to the Hogwarts grounds in our third year here. A magical creature that almost blew out half the school because none of you knew what it even was!”

Momota’s mouth parted, eyebrows furrowed so deeply that his face looked as if twisted in a permanent scowl.

“And don’t think that I don’t know about how you cheated on your last Herbology test,” exclaimed Ouma before Momota would get a single word out, making the other Slytherin’s eyes widen in surprise. “Or how you cheated on every single History of Magic test and paid some seventh year Ravenclaw to do your homework!”

“How did you-?”

Ouma giggled, rocking on his heels, hands folded at the back of his neck.

“Oh, did lil dumb Momota-chan think that I don’t know about it? Geez, you aren’t even half as smart as you think you are,” mocked Ouma.

He wasn’t about to let Ouma insult his intelligence.

Momota’s fingers instinctively tightened around his wand, a gesture that didn’t escape Ouma’s attention.

“Oooh, is Momota-chan gonna hex me now?”

“Yeah, if I have to!” roared Momota, slowly reaching his limit. The last traces of his patience were slipping away more and more with every minute. “I work so hard to change people’s views about Slytherin and then all you do is drag our House down! At least Harumaki is trying to do better, she’s trying to improve! All you do is prank everyone around and act as if it’s for good! I have no idea why the professors thought that you deserve this badge but it’s pretty clear that they made a mistake!”

Momota stopped for a second, the ringing in his ears nearly deafening. He could taste blood in his mouth. He glared at Ouma’s smaller form drowning in his Slytherin robes. He missed the moment when something in Ouma’s face shifted, his expression turning blank and pale, the smirk for once wiped out of his face.

“I don’t think it’s about Harukawa-chan anymore.”

Ouma’s voice sounded quiet in the wide hall. Hollow.

But Momota wasn’t done.

“Like hell it isn’t! It’s about you being an insensitive brat who never should have been chosen as the prefect!”

By the end Momota was practically screaming, his chest falling and rising rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, panting. At the edges of his vision he could spot a not-so-small crowd of students observing the scene. Most of them were wearing shocked expressions and some of the younger ones looked outright horrified. But Momota couldn’t care less, all of his attention focused on Ouma who was standing there and not talking, not reacting in any way other than stare at him, lips pressed tightly together.

“Don’t make me dock the points from Slytherin,” spat Ouma quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His whole small body was shaking in silent fury, posture stiff and eyes narrowed into two cold slits.

Momota’s eyes momentarily darted in the direction of the House point hourglasses standing proudly on both sides of the heavy oak doors, the gems inside gleaming in the shadows of the hall.

“You can’t take the points from your own House!” snapped Momota baring his teeth, nostrils flaring. He could feel another wave of anger surging through his veins. He stifled the urge to punch something --- Ouma’s face looked exceptionally punchable today --- and bit his nails deep into the skin of his palms, hands curled into tight fists.

“Watch me.”

Something in his voice carried a dangerous note, one that Momota’s never heard before.

Momota turned to face the hourglasses fully just in time to see as the emeralds trapped inside the Slytherin’s hourglass began to retreat back into the upper bulb, one after another until exactly ten were nestled there, successfully reducing the amount of points earned by their House during the semester. He could feel the swirl of emotions trapped in his gut, dulled by the pure shock of what he has just witnessed, unable to comprehend that Ouma did it, he actually did it---

He turned back to Ouma, disbelief mingling with anger written all his face, mouth open to shout and fists rising only to realize that Ouma was no longer there.

*

Momota would have never threatened his own House like that. It was like a betrayal. Sure, he wasn’t always happy about ending up in Slytherin, even after so many years his House had a bit of a… reputation, but like any other student he felt pride and sense of belonging. To betray one’s House was one of the greatest crimes a Hogwarts student could commit in the eyes of his fellow students and it was a rule that Momota held especially close to heart.

His argument with Ouma was widely discussed by other students of Hogwarts for the next few days after it happened, some of them even going as far as to declare with whom they decided to side on, making them members of either Team Ouma or Team Momota. Harukawa hadn’t spoken to him for almost a week, furious that he made such a scene and got her involved. The news of their argument seemed to be known even to the teachers as the Charms Professor took mercy on Momota when he anxiously approached him and asked if would be possible for him to change a partner.

For the next few weeks he and Ouma have been avoiding each other. Or, more accurately, Ouma was avoiding him, always vanishing the moment Momota appeared in his proximity. During their shared classes he would retreat into the far corner of the classroom, as far as possible from Momota, not even gratifying him with a single glance. Whenever they happened to end up on the same corridor he would always magically disappear, to the point where Momota started to wonder if maybe by some miracle he came into the possession of the cloak of invisibility or illegally learned how to Apparate. He acted just like he always did, laughing and teasing and being obnoxiously Ouma but there was certain cold aura around him, a foreign glint in his eyes.

At first he didn’t think much of it, enjoying his Ouma-less life to its full extent now that there was no one to make fun of him, mock him, belittle him. He turned his attention to his school work, slowly drowning under the pile of assignments and homeworks. But as it was, all he did was nurture the grudge, spikes of irritation coursing through him whenever he thought back to their argument and to the long ugly scratch on Harukawa’s thigh.  

“I think you really hurt his feelings,” Saihara commented on the situation  during dinner time when the Slytherin approached him and Akamatsu at the Ravenclaw table, plopping down next to him a few weeks after the incident when everyone else seemed to finally forget about it. The look on the Ravenclaw’s face was solemn and the unvoiced ‘this time’ lingered at the end of that sentence but it went completely unnoticed by Momota who only waved his hand dismissively and shrugged.

“He’ll get over it,” he said easily, snorting at the idea. “It’s Ouma, I doubt he even has any feelings. Besides, he deserved it. Serves him right for treating Harumaki like that.”

He reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes and after dumping half of its contents on his own plate he started to eat with gusto, barely paying attention to what was going on around him. He wanted to forget about his fight with Ouma as fast as possible, the pangs of irritation making themselves known whenever he thought about the annoying little fuck and his smug expression.

He didn’t notice the exchange of concerned glances between Saihara and Akamatsu.

*

It took him almost three weeks to realize that the quiet he initially so enjoyed at some point became too loud, too out of place.

If he took his time to actually look at the whole picture he could realize that there was more to it, though, something under the surface that’s been blooming ever since their third year, subtle and persistent and too scary to acknowledge.

He couldn’t help it but his thoughts were drifting to Ouma more and more often, the sudden quiet no longer comforting. Sure, he was mad at Ouma, even after all this time, but in a weird twisted way he also missed the guy. As much as his pranks were annoying, they were a constant that he was used to at Hogwarts and until now he never realized how integral a role the other Slytherin played in his life.

Ultimately it was Saihara who finally took mercy on him and decided to bring up the issue with Momota during one of their evening studying sessions in the library.

Saihara closed his Charms book with a quiet sigh and put it on the table, pausing in the middle of Momota’s rant about the homework he was supposed to finish due the next Wednesday.

“Momota-kun, don’t get me wrong,” he started, fidgeting slightly in his seat, “but why are you really so angry at Ouma-kun?”

Momota blinked, surprised. He was pretty sure that he made it clear. Still, he didn’t pass up the opportunity when it presented itself and jumped right into another rant.

“He’s been insufferable ever since he got that stupid badge,” he complained. “He’s been bugging everyone around and he hurt Harumaki,” the last two words came out louder, his voice speeding as the more words were spilling from his lips, anger blooming low in his gut. He slammed his fist against the table for emphasis with a dull bang, earning him disapproving glares from the students studying a few tables away.

Like on command, the face of the librarian emerged from between the stocked with books shelves, eyes furious and framed with an angry frown on her face for disrupting the sacred quiet of the library. She pressed a finger against her mouth and let out the most deprecatory and passive-aggressive “shhh!” Momota has ever heard.

“Sorry,” he mouthed to her, a red tint of embarrassment coloring the tips of his ears.

He turned back to Saihara who was looking at him with this half-smiling and half-worried way of his.

“And he’s a little shit,” added Momota after a short pause, as if only now remembering what they were talking about just moments before.

Saihara smiled faintly.

“Yes, that’s true, but he’s also right. He’s only doing his job. Even if, um” his face scrunched up momentarily, “his methods are a bit… unorthodox.”

Momota grumbled something unintelligible, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t understand it, Shuichi. Why did he even get the badge? There are so many people who deserve it more than him.”

“...Like you?”

“Yeah! Anyone would be better than that little shit.”

“You don’t seem to be angry that I got one and it’s not like Ouma-kun asked for his badge,” reasoned Saihara patiently. “If he got one then professors must have thought that he deserves one. Maybe they figured that it would be beneficial for him, having this kind of responsibility. And…” he hesitated visibly, flashing Momota a worried glance before continuing. “I don’t think he’s doing a bad job? Um, I mean, sure, some of his practices might be questionable, but technically he hasn’t broken any serious rules? And as weird as that sounds… his methods are actually effective. I asked Madam Pince and she said that people actually started to return the books to the library. And Professor Sprout said that this redhead from Hufflepuff, the one who fell asleep during the Defence Against the Dark Arts exam last year and got almost expelled from Hogwarts for constantly being late to classes so often and forgetting to do her homework hasn’t been late ever since she got a Howler almost every day in a row.”

Momota scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He still took points away from his own House!” He protested.

He knew that Saihara had a point, maybe even knew for a while now, but even though everything he said was technically true he couldn’t help but be stubborn about it.

Saihara kept quiet for a moment, as if mulling over something or having an internal battle. “Have you thought that maybe this is why he got the badge and you didn’t?”

His voice was quiet but firm, every word deliberate and thought out.

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

Saihara took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. He locked his eyes with Momota’s.

“It seems to me like Ouma-kun was able to overcome his personal House-bias and put his prefect responisibilies above it. Don’t get me wrong, Momota-kun,” he hurried to explain, as if worried that he offended the Slytherin. “I wasn’t there when that happened, so correct me if I’m wrong, but... from what I’ve heard it looked like, um, you were threatening him? In a situation like that it was his responsibility to act like a prefect.” Saihara’s eyes flashed to his own badge peeking from between the layers of his robes, pride pooling in his eyes. “The main objective of being a prefect is to react when there’s any kind of commotion and not let things escalate until a professor gets there.”

Momota still didn’t look convinced but he seem to consider Saihara’s words, mulling over them for a while.

“I think you would make an amazing prefect, Momota-kun,” confessed Saihara, a soft smile playing on his lips. His words rang with truth and it made Momota feel a little bit better. “But I don’t think letting Ouma take this position was a bad decision at all.”

He let Saihara’s words sink in. So fine, maybe he did get needlessly worked up over the little things. Maybe he couldn’t look past his House-bias, as Saihara put it, and threaten to take the points for his fellow Slytherin’s behavior. And maybe, just maybe, there was a part of him that was jealous.  

As much as Momota didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t ignore the pang of disappointment whenever he thought about why Ouma got the badge and he hadn’t. Before this year he never even realized that he wanted the badge and the responsibility coming along with it but now that Ouma got one he couldn’t help but feel disappointment.

He took a deep breath, deciding to, for now, focus on what was more important here.

“It still doesn’t mean that how he treated Harumaki was right.”

Saihara sighed heavily, casting him a look more determined than any others, his muddy gold eyes gleaming in the dim light of the library. He quickly looked around, as if trying to determine that no one’s there to eavesdropping.  

“Look, Momota-kun, about that,” he was speaking quietly but with clear intent, his gaze serious and hands folded in front of him on the table. In any other situation Momota could have felt a rush of pride at seeing the Ravenclaw who used to be so withdrawn and anxious speaking with such confidence. “Have you asked Ouma-kun what happened during that incident with Harukawa-san?”

Momota opened his mouth to confirm but Saihara cut in before he could say a word.

“As in, asked what exactly happened?”

“Harumaki got hurt and that’s what’s important!” he protested, instantly going into the defensive mode. “And Ouma didn’t say that he didn’t do it!”

“Yes, but did he say that he did?” Pressed Saihara.

Momota opened his mouth… and then closed it promptly, shaking his head, a weird combination of still-present anger and guilt swirling in his stomach.

Saihara nodded thoughtfully as if he expected that.

“I suggest that you talk to Ouma-kun. Hear his version of what happened.”

Momota could feel his anger slowly fading away into nothingness at Saihara’s words - everything he said this evening - started to settle in.

His brain replayed the scene from the Entrance Hall in his head, reminding him of all the bitter words that spilled from his lips, Ouma’s flushed with anger cheeks, the senseless anger bursting in his chest at the time.

‘I don’t think it’s about Harukawa-chan anymore.’

Maybe it really wasn’t. Maybe it never was about Harumaki.

Momota gulped.

“There’s… one more thing,” he said, a slow embarrassed flush crawling on his cheeks despite himself at the memory. His hand automatically moved to rub at the back of his neck and he could feel the tips of his ears burning.

Saihara nodded, uncertain what he was getting at. Nonetheless, he let Momota continue.

“He knew that I, err, cheated on my tests. I didn’t think about it until know but now that I think about it… The last time Ouma caught someone cheating he used the Pullus Jinx to transform the guy’s bag and quills into into chicken and geese! He’s been chasing them all around the school for hours.

Saihara blinked. “Oh.”

“I don’t get it, Shuichi. He knew what I did and he didn’t do anything. I mean, I’m not a fan of having my stuff turned into fowl,” Momota made a face, “but it’s still weird.”

Saihara’s expression softened, a hint of understanding flashing through his muddy gold eyes and a gentle smile sneaking on his lips.

“Um, I’m not sure how to tell you this, Momota-kun, but… Ouma-kun likes you.”

Momota’s face twisted in confusion, brows furrowing in skepticism.

“Could have fooled me.”

Saihara shook his head stifling a quiet chuckle with his hand. “No, I mean… He really likes you.”

Momota scratched his head, still lost as to what the Ravenclaw was getting at. He could barely call himself and Ouma friends after everything that happened.

“Right…” he trailed off, deciding to let it go. For now. “Anyways, I guess I should do something about it, shouldn’t I?”

He sighed heavily. Fixing this wouldn’t be easy. He still was struggling with accepting Saihara’s words after so much time of being stuck in his own head but… he wanted to find out what happened and he wanted the things between him and Ouma to go back to normal.

Saihara was right, whatever happened between Harumaki and Ouma... he didn’t have the right to judge without knowing the full story.

The other fifth year nodded, his expression soft and sympathetic, the warm light of the candles framing the curves of his face with a golden glow.

Momota groaned internally, bending down to grab his bag and dump his quills and sheets of parchment into it, homework long forgotten. He pushed his chair back, its wooden legs screeching against the floor and stood up.

“Thanks for the advice, Shuichi. You are a great sidekick!”

Saihara smiled faintly and waved him goodbye, watching as the Slytherin left the library in a hurry.

*

As it quickly turned out, the apologizing part wasn’t nearly as easy to execute as he would have wanted. First, with the current state of events it was nearly impossible to catch Ouma one on one and strike a conversation, what with Ouma still avoiding him like the plague.

After a week of unsuccessful attempts passed frustration started to kick in and he convinced himself that there was no way to patch up the reluctant friendship he developed with Ouma over the years. The thought made him sadder than he ever would have expected. It was as if all the anger and frustration and bitterness that piled up over the weeks simply vanished, as if someone used Evanesco on him.

It was hard to focus on his school work anymore, his thoughts constantly drifting to Ouma. Harukawa called it sulking. Momota preferred the term brooding.

But to his utmost horror something else started to be painfully apparent, something he hasn’t noticed - or simply shoved at the very back of his consciousness - before.

He missed that little shit.

He really genuinely missed him.

It was as if the world turned upside down and nothing made sense anymore, the revelation hitting him far stronger than it should have. And now that it was there it simply proved to be impossible to ignore, his useless chest tightening whenever he caught a glimpse of the other Slytherin.

So it was by some miracle when one day during the short break between Charms and Potions Momota spotted a familiar figure in an empty hallway. Ouma was standing with his back to him, his nose buried in a book and completely unaware of what was going on around him.

Momota looked right and left anxiously, pretty sure that no one would approve of him abducting another unsuspecting student in the day of the light (or any light, really), but miraculously it was as if any sentient creature - be it human, House Elf or ghost - wasn’t around.

He ran to catch up with him, determined to make the best out of this chance. Ouma’s head whipped around in alarm at the sound of footsteps resounding loudly in the empty hallway but it was already too late, Momota’s big arms already pulling him forcefully in the direction of the nearest door.

“You are going to let me apologize,” Momota informed the smaller Slytherin, pushing him into an empty classroom before he could realize what was happening.

It might have been his only chance. He wasn’t going to waste it.

“Aww, did wittle Momota-chan think he hurt my feewings?” mocked Ouma, tilting his head, a malicious smile stretching slowly on his lips. “You shouldn’t worry about it, I’m the supreme leader of evil and I don’t have any feelings. See? Anyways, I gotta go!”

He was just about to run out of the classroom when he felt a big hand close around his wrist, calloused fingers digging into his skin. He whipped around with alarm only to face Momota’s face, scowl embed in the lines of his forehead, lips curled up in a grimace.

Ouma tried to wrestle his arm out of his hand but Momota’s grip only tightened, so much so that it was nearly bordering on painful.

“No,” Momota protested, the familiar feeling in his stomach churning anxiously reminding him of his nervousness and was slowly getting unbearable. “Not until you let me apologize!”

“You’re off to a great start,” hissed Ouma giving his wrist a last weak tug, but he wasn’t quite meeting his eyes.

It’s only then that Momota realized how strong his grip on Ouma’s arm was, nails biting into the pale skin and leaving little crescent-like shapes. He could feel the wave of guilt washing over him, the knot in his gut tightening uncomfortably. His grip on Ouma’s arm loosened, letting the smaller Slytherin go.  

Ouma still looked apprehensive, his expression carefully devoid of emotions as he slipped his arm from as soon as he could and took a few steps back, putting some distance between the two of them. For a second Momota thought that he’s going to run. He wouldn’t hold it against him, he was an ass and it would make perfect sense for Ouma to not want to have anything to do with him. But then Ouma just raised his chin and looked at him expectantly.

“So?”

Momota perked up.

“So… what?” He repeated, uncertain. He could feel a nervous laugh forming on his lips and pressed them into a tight line.

Ouma sighed noisily, rolling his eyes with exasperation.

“Didn’t you want to apologize?”

“Oh! Oh--- shit, right!”

Ouma didn’t say anything, waiting with his lips pressed in a thin line and arms crossed across his chest.

Momota sucked in a breath and braced himself for whatever was to come. “L-look, I’m really sorry. I didn’t think you would be a good prefect and…”

He trailed off, unsure how to put into words all the things he wanted to say, how to make sense of this mess that were his thoughts. Momota closed his eyes and thought back to his conversation with Saihara, to all the good points he made about Ouma and why he became the prefect.

“Why?” pressed Ouma. There was no bite in his words and for the first time it occurred to Momota that maybe he knew why. Maybe he was just waiting for him to say it out loud and admit what was bothering him. He knew that Ouma valued honesty above anything else, something that was hard for Momota to understand considering how the other Slytherin was a notorious liar. It just felt contradictory.

“I didn’t have the full picture,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I still don’t.”

Ouma huffed, staring at Momota with an expectant expression.

Momota swallowed hard and continued.

“I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about you. Or about what happened between you and Harumaki. You said that you should have reported her to the professors… I still don’t know why or how your spell ended up hitting her, but... It wasn’t my place to judge without having the whole story.”

Ouma merely nodded his head. His whole posture looked stiff and Momota was worried that he would bolt out of here if given the chance.

He swallowed his pride and spoke again, his voice small but firm.

“Can you… Can you tell me what happened? That night, I mean. Between you, Harukawa and this Ravenclaw kid.”

Ouma’s eyes widened just a fraction, jaw going slack.

Momota could feel desperation coiling in his stomach. He wanted to know the truth. The whole truth, whatever it was.

“Please,” he added, looking Ouma straight in the eyes.

The other Slytherin let out a long exaggerated sigh, as if Momota has been the source of the greatest suffering and exasperation he’s ever experienced in his short life.

“Fiiine,” he whined. “If Momota-chan insists.”

He didn’t seem too happy about the situation, nowhere close to forgiving him. His posture closed off and eyes still flickering with mistrust but he was willing to humor Momota and honestly, it was all he could have been hoping for, everything considered. He sat on the nearest table and cleared his throat, planting both of his palms on his knees.

“Sooo, Momota-chan knows that Harukawa-chan was raised in a Muggle orphanage, riiight?”

Momota simply nodded. He found out during their third year. He sat more comfortably, a little confused by the unexpected question and intrigued where this story was going.

“Apparently one of the girls from the orphanage got a letter this summer,” continued Ouma.

Momota let out a short surprised sound. “But Harumaki never said anything!”

“Nishishi, somehow I’m not surprised,” he laughed, much to Momota’s irritation. “Anyways, she started attending Hogwarts in September and got sorted to Gryffindor just like our precious Harukawa-chan herself.”

Momota frowned, ready to defend his friend, but thought better of it. House animosity was a normal thing and he knew that Harukawa and Ouma had a past. He let Ouma continue his tale, determined to find out what happened.

“I don’t know all the details,” admitted Ouma, swaying his legs back and forth from his place on the top of one of the table, “but apparently the girl was bullied by one of the third year Ravenclaws.”

Momota grimaced. He hated bullies with all his heart and Muggle-born wizards and witches still had enough bullshit to deal with.

“After some time Harukawa-chan found out about the bullying and decided to take things into her own hands,” Hummed Ouma, his eyes turning distant and a little cloudy. “Not the wisest decision she’s ever made but that’s Harukawa-chan for you.”

The taller of the two could feel his blood going cold, freezing in his veins as the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. Oh no, he thought, suddenly feeling like he knew where this story was going and definitely not liking this direction.

“She sneaked out shortly before the curfew. One of the portraits told me - I have a small spy network with the portraits, you see - so I went to look for her and found both of them, just as she shoved him into an empty bathroom.”

Ouma suddenly bared his teeth in a Cheshire cat-like smile.

“Just like Momota-chan did to me, actually. You sure sure are a great influence!”

Momota grumbled angrily but bit his tongue to keep any comments to himself.

“Welp, anyways, I didn’t know what exactly she was plotting but since it was almost curfew and it was at a part of the castle she shouldn’t be in, and especially not at this hour, I went to investigate.”

Ouma fell silent for a moment to exhale quietly. His lips twisted in an ugly grimace and nose scrunched up, as if he smelled something foul.

“I opened the door of the bathroom just in time to see Harukawa-chan casting a spell. It was some kind of cutting curse, I don’t know. From here everything happened really quickly so it’s kind of a blur. I hit her with Expelliarmus before she could hurt him.”

Momota’s mouth moved but no sound came out, Ouma’s words slowly registering in his brain.

“And the worst part,” spat Ouma angrily, clearly struggling to keep his emotions under control, “is that she got the wrong kid.”

Momota’s eyes widened impossibly as he gaped at Ouma with shock.

“What?” He managed to choke out, his voice weak as he could feel his head spinning at this new revelation.

“Yeah,” confirmed Ouma bitterly. “It was dark and he was wearing his House robes, they all look the same from behind. Harukawa-chan was too focused on her sweet sweet revenge to pay attention and never realized that she got the wrong Ravenclaw until it was too late.”

There was still one thing that didn’t make sense, one thing that was nagging somewhere at the back of his head, impossible to forget about.

“But Harumaki’s leg…”

Ouma laughed bitterly, suddenly hopping off the table and entering Momota’s personal space, making the taller boy lean back in surprise, blinking at him rapidly when he suddenly found himself face to face with Ouma.

“Err…”

“She was hit by her own spell,” he informed Momota coldly. “And me, too.”

Ouma lifted his arm, the wide sleeve of his robe rolling down, revealing his pale hands and bony wrist. There, curled around the curve of his index finger rested a half-healed wound, the skin around it all reddened and irritated.

Momota knew that he was staring but he couldn’t help himself, the guilt and shock and disbelief tugging at his insides.

All this time he thought that Ouma hurt Harukawa on purpose. All this time he was sure it was an act of malice that resulted in the injury.

He felt like he got hit in the stomach.

“But you said that you disarmed her...”

“I managed to disarm her but I was a second too late,” continued Ouma, his voice quiet. ”Harukawa-chan already managed to cast the spell. It didn’t hit the intended target and bounced off one of the mirrors, splitting into two and hitting both of us.”

Momota stood there, motionless, feeling as if someone hit him with Petrificus Totalus.

“Why won’t you heal it?” He asked finally.

“It’s a magical injury caused by a powerful curse,” Ouma frowned, tucking his wrist back under the heavy layers of his robes. “I can’t heal it with a simple Episkey. And I can’t exactly go to Madam Pomfrey with this kind of injury, she would start asking questions.”

Momota snorted, amused. “Aren’t you the master liar around here?”

Ouma flashed him a cheeky smile.

“I sure am, my dear Momota-chan! But,” his expression turned grim, the striking contrast with the face he was making merely a few seconds before, “you underestimate a nurse on a mission.”

Momota seemed to consider his words and eventually nodded hesitantly, unable to deflect this logic. He’s seen what Madam Pomfrey was capable of when determined to investigate how the students obtained their injuries. He couldn’t help the shudder that crawled down his spine at the memory of certain quidditch incident he was involved in two years prior. Still, though… Ouma went through a lot of trouble, all to protect Harukawa’s skin. And she wasn’t even from his House.

Suddenly he could see the whole scene with striking clarity, Harukawa sneaking on an unexpecting Ravenclaw, Ouma rushing to prevent the inevitable catastrophe, disarming Harukawa two seconds too late, the spell ricocheting and striking both of them.

Ouma looked up to see Momota’s face, concern and worry still pooling in the taller Slytherin’s dark mauvish eyes.

“It will heal,” added Ouma with a faint smile. “Eventually.”

Momota gave a hesitant nod, still worried.

He needed to have a talk with Harumaki. He knew that her heart was in the right place but what she did was wrong. Horribly and painfully wrong.

Momota swallowed thickly. “What about the girl?”

“Hm?”

“The Gryffindor girl… The one Harumaki tried to protect.”

“Oh.” Ouma waved his hand dismissively. “I took care of that already.”

He didn’t elaborate and Momota didn’t press.

So there he had it. The whole truth, laying bare right before his eyes.

He felt shame coiling in his insides, the guilt over getting so worked up over something so silly, over the story he made up in his head to justify his senseless jealousy and irrational resentment.

He told Ouma that he trusted him, that he would always believe in the best in him, just like he always did in Saihara and Harumaki, that he would believe in him even if Ouma didn’t want him to.

Momota lowered his head solemnly.  

“Look, Ouma… I’m really sorry.”

Ouma didn’t say a word, which Momota took as his cue to keep talking.

“I was jealous and irrational and stupid. I shouldn’t have said any of those things I said that day and… and I’m sorry.”

He kept his eyes low, unable to meet Ouma’s. Suddenly the last few months felt wrong, felt like something he wished desperately that he could fix and re-do, never let things escalate this much. All this unnecessary drama and jealousy and anger eating him alive for months… What was all that for.

Ouma cleared his throat. Momota’s head instantly snapped to attention, mouth open and eyes wide.

“Momota-chan is so dumb,” he commented insultingly but his voice carried a playful note, lilac eyes sparkling with something suspiciously fond. “Tell you what! You take me on a date during the next visit to Hogsmeade and all is forgiven!”

“A… a date?”

“Yup~!”

Oh. Oh!

Suddenly Saihara’s words, the ones he couldn’t understand before, make so much more sense. Momota can feel his heart speeding up, thumping in his chest as heat crawls on his cheek and colors them with a pinkish tint.

“Um…”

Ouma snickered, eyes gleaming mischievously.

“Come on, Momota-chan, didn’t you want to make it up to me?”

Momota swallowed and made up his mind. He owed him that. Besides… they went to Hogsmeade together before, clutching between the shops for hours, inhaling the sweet aromas of the Honeydukes and letting the Butterbeer warm their insides after too many hours spent outside in the cold.

It would be just like back then, right?

“Alright.”

Ouma clapped his hands, bouncing in place.

“Great! You’re paying then!”

Before Momota could react Ouma’s warm hands were already resting on his shoulders, supporting his weight when he stood up on his tip-toes and pressed a quick kiss against Momota’s cheek.

And then the pressure was gone and so was Ouma, only his horse-like laugh echoing in the classroom.

Momota stared at the place occupied by the other Slytherin only seconds before, dazed and confused. The blush raised on his face, sudden heat stretching over his nose and cheeks. He lifted his hand, shaking fingers brushing against the spot where Ouma’s lips touched his skin.

Well.

It looked like he had an interesting visit to Hogsmeade ahead of him.

[laboratorioautoral]

Dark Jon being jealous and kicking people out of Winterfell just because he can.

This one was prompted by @circe1fanatic. I hope you like it dear.

She arrived at the gates with the first winter blizzard. A guard came to Jon with a flushed face and trying to breathe with difficulty. Jon looked at the man with annoyance. It it was an attack the horns would have been used and the castle’s defenses would be ready in a matter of minutes. A guard being sent with a message was just a minor inconvenience.

“There is...There is a girl...” The guard could barely speak and as he tried his breath turned to smoke. Jon’s senses were suddenly alert and Ghost sniffed the air as if he had catch a familiar scent.

“What girl?” Jon asked soberly as he tried to keep his expectations in check. His heart was racing as if he was drunk over battle adrenaline. Be still, my foolish hard. We’ve been mistaken before.

“At the Great Hall...” The man said. “She asks for you, Your Grace. She says...”

“I’ll listen to whatever she says. Tell the cookers to prepare her something to eat and put her by the fire.” Jon commanded. He could be wrong again, but he wouldn’t let a girl die in such a nasty weather. Whoever it was, food and warmth would guarantee that the girl wouldn’t fall ill.

“She already commanded so, Your Grace.” The guard’s eyes were as big as a plate. “She says she is Lady Arya.”

Little sister.

Jon’s breath suddenly stopped for a second and he could feel his hands trembling. Once more he tried to control his feelings and expectations, but that name was enough to bring him to tears.

Jon didn’t wait for any further explanations. He left the guard behind and walked towards the Great Hall as fast his self-awareness allowed. He was King in the North, not a green boy of six-and-ten. He had duties, responsibilities and a level of dignity that he should observe.

Ghost passed him half way to the Hall. He wasn’t so receptive. In fact he was snarling and baring his teeth as if he was getting ready to attack or to defend his master.

When he arrived at the Hall, Jon opened and closed his eyes a couple of times just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. She was looking straight at him and her gray eyes were teary as she bit her bottom lip as she usually did whenever she was feeling anxious.

Jon ran to her and opened his arms to receive Arya like a blessing. She never disappointed. He couldn’t tell for how long they remained like that; hugging each other so tight that they might have broken a couple of ribs. Arya was crying and Jon was mute. The only thing he could managed was to run his fingers through her hair and smell her familiar scent. This is real. She is home.

If the gods could grant him a wish, Jon would ask for that moment to last forever so he could feel that overwhelming happiness until the end of times. He had never felt like that before. Not even when he found Brandon and Rickon.

“Welcome home.” He finally said with his voice full of warmth and joy. For the first time in nearly five years, he felt young.

“I’ve missed you so much.” They said it together as if they needed one last proof that everything was real. This time both started to laugh between tears.

If only that moment could last forever and his blood remained dormant. At times he was inclined to think that his Targaryan blood was in fact a curse. Like a disease that ran in a family’s blood line, Jon could feel madness sneaking into his mind as shameful lust and jealousy ate him from inside out.

Arya brought with her a boy. A man is more likely. Gendry Waters was more than just a decent blacksmith and those were always rare and handy to a castle, but every day Jon looked at the man and convinced himself that Gendry was something like a stinking animal he would have to kick out at some point.

Arya had promised that man a position in the household in exchange for his company on her journey back to Winterfell. Jon would never deny her something like that. If anything, Gendry should have his gratitude for escorting Arya back home, but as the days passed Jon started to regret his decision and his own moral conduct.

Anyone with eyes could see the way Waters looked at Arya. Anyone with ears could listen to their little quarrels and bickering that sounded like those of a young couple. Jon wasn’t sure that Waters was dazzled by her, maybe enough to make something stupid, but he couldn’t tell if that was something mutual. In fact, Jon was more interested to get rid of that man before those feelings could turn into something else.

“You are getting obvious.” Bran told him one night as they sat by the fire to have a bit of mulled wine. “I think I don’t have to remember you that Arya will be displeased if anything happens to Waters.”

“I can find her a better put to keep her entertained.” Jon said between his clenched teeth. “I want him out of here.”

“She promised him a position.” Bran insisted as he tried to sound reasonable. “Besides...You are wasting your time if you think that even without Water and without the weight of the world “brother”, if you think Arya will ever correspond your feelings in the way you want her to.”

“And what way is that?” His voice came out dark and heavy with sarcasm. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I’m talking about the tragedy of Rhaegar and Lyanna that keeps playing in your mind like an old tune.  I’m talking about you noticing that she is no longer a child and that you seem to have inherited more from Rhaegar than you though. This Targaryen sickness should end.” At that Jon threw his head back and remained quiet for a second.

“I was thinking about something that might come to be a reasonable solution to our problems.” Jon said darkly. “You think that I don’t know what they whisper behind my back, but I know there are those who would gladly slit my throat to get you back on the Throne.”

“As is my birth right. You can’t simply usurp me and pretend that loyalty to my name won’t be of relevance in the outcome of this little dispute between us.” Bran answered bitterly. They could leave in peace if they put their minds to it, but Brandon would never forgive Jon for taking the Winter Throne and named himself king.

“It won’t happen, Brandon.” Jon snapped back. “I fought for this land and I got rid of Bolton while you were still trying to find your way back to home and humanity. I was proclaimed.” Jon dried his cup in one single gulp before looking back at his crippled cousin. “The war isn’t over yet and I don’t see how a young lad like you could managed to lead men into battle from your wheelchair. It is a matter of pragmatism and reason. Do you want to discuss birthrights? Fine. I will discuss birthrights and my participation in the battles to come. Do you want me to fight and defend the North? I will do it. If what you want is my cooperation and Lord Eddard’s line ruling the North, I can agree with that. I’ll take Arya as my wife and the children we will have will rule over the North for a thousand years. This is the only deal I’ll offer.”

“Your Targaryen color are finally showing.” Bran replied bitterly. “You just forgot that Arya isn’t the sort of woman that would agree with this without complains or resistance. She isn’t a hopeless victim as your mother was. My sister is made of stronger material and she won’t have you. Why would she see anything but a brother in you? Let her have a bit of happiness and a simple life with that man for all I care.”

“I am not asking for your permission, Brandon.” Jon said as he rose form his seat with a sour face. “What I want is for you to get rid of that man and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“I won’t kill a man so you can bed my sister.” Bran’s anger was finally brought to the surface and Jon could see in the boy’s eyes the strength of a fearless wolf ready to attack.

“I never said that I wanted to kill him.” Jon smiled at him with condescension. “I have a more practical idea in mind. Since you want to be a lord so bad, I’m giving you the Dreadfort as your new household and you can even call yourself Lord Stark of Dreadfort. You will take Waters with you and as a reward...I think I can reach an agreement with Reed. Lady Meera Stark…It has a good sound to it, don’t you think?”

“You are disgusting.” Bran looked at him with a livid face.

“What did you expect from a bastard?” Jon’s eyes were suddenly dark and cold. “I won’t have you threatening my claim, as I won’t have Daenerys threatening us with dragons. I’m done playing by your father’s code of honor. Since I’m damned from birth, it’s time to accept the beast in me. It happens that the beast just found his mate. You leave in a week.”

“Arya will never accept it!” Brandon growled.

“I will love to prove you wrong.” Jon turned his back at Brandon.

At times Jon was surprised at his own lack of morals. Death could destroy a great deal of things, but nothing rotted as fast as one’s soul. He was probably going mad as Bran had said. Targaryen or not, Jon wondered what would have happened if he had never found out about his true parentage. Would he still feel the same about Arya?

He knew the answer, but it was disgusting to admit that it had always been there, regardless to anything that his heritage could mean. It was in the way Ygritte’s stubbornness would remember him of a little girl. In the way Alys Karstark smiled with bravery and pride. It was in Val’s fierce nature. Only the gods could tell for how long he had been looking for Arya in every woman that crossed his path, but it took a war and years apart for the inevitable to happen. She was no longer a girl with tangled hair and scratches and bruises all over her body.

Like poison, Arya took over his body. The very blood running through his veins said that they belonged together. It had always been like this, haven’t it? With every sentence spoken at the same time; the countless embraces and kisses; and the powerful sensation of touching her hair and smelling the faint scent of wild flowers, earth and pinewood. Everything about her had been made according to all of his preferences. Arya was his confident and friend; his home and his heart. He belonged to her and Jon was getting eager and restless at the thought of claiming her for good.

He couldn’t tell if she had sensed something in the air. Arya would look at him with suspicion and cold curiosity. She wanted to ask something of him. Probably beg for Bran to stay in Winterfell. Jon could get himself a bargain out of that, but then it wouldn’t have the same taste as if Arya had surrender to her own desires. In the ended he didn’t have to wait much for Arya to come to him.

Jon was on his own chambers trying keep his mind quiet so he could get a bit of sleep later. Arya didn’t bother to knock at his door. She never did. Why would it change now? Jon being king meant little to nothing to her.

“I need to talk to you.” She said bluntly. Arya was never the sort of woman that would be discreet about her discontentment.

Jon turned to face her. Arya was wearing a nightgown and a long robe to keep her warm and preserve her modesty. If he knew her at all, Arya had tried to sleep but failed.

“What can I do for you, my dear?” Jon asked with kindness. He was getting good at hiding his true intentions.

“Is it really necessary?” Arya asked as she walked towards his bed to seat on it. Oh...If only she knew the dangers of doing it. “I know things have been difficult between you and Bran, but the Dreadfort? Why would you send him there?”

“I’m not doing it as a punishment, Arya.” What a shameful lie. “I need someone I trust to take care of the Bolton’s lands and Brandon seems to be the natural choice. Do not worry. I won’t send him alone.”

“So I’ve heard.” Her voice was suddenly sober. “Why Gendry? They barely know each other and I don’t think this is a good idea. I promised him...”

“A respectable position and this is what he will get for all the good services to House Stark.” Jon replied cautiously. “A wage, a house and a forge of his own and the honor to make swords to keep Brandon safe. Anyone would agree that I’m being very generous.”

“Indeed.” She lowered her head a bit. “He thinks you don’t like him.”

“Why would I dislike a competent blacksmith?  Especially one that brought you back home safely.” Jon tried to sound convincing, but at times his jealousy took the best of him. “I just think he will be more useful if he stayed with Bran.”

“Gendry thinks you disapprove of our friendship.” Arya finally said. “I tried to tell him that it wasn’t the case.”

“You always had a talent for making unusual friends. He is just another one. I’m sure you’ll be able to see him again in an eventual trip to the Dreadfort.” Jon add as a matter of fact.

“It means you won’t let me go with them, doesn’t it?” Arya asked with a hint of sadness. “We just got together and now you are sending Bran away.”

“For a good cause, my dear.” Jon went to her immediately. He knelled in front of her and caressed her face as if she was a child. “I just want to make the right decision for us.”

“Than let Bran stay a little longer.” Arya asked.

“I’m sure you understand the kind of factions that are gathering behind Brandon. I don’t think he would try to depose me, but I can’t let potential traitors to have a name to use for their own purposes. Bran will be safe and cared for. He will even have a wife to look after him, if Reed agree with me in this.”

“You don’t think of me as a threat? I’m as much a true born Stark as he is.” Arya pointed carefully. “Do you think I could try to depose you?”

“I would never think of it.” Jon said immediately. “You are the only one that I trust. Is it a crime for me to want to keep you near?”

“I don’t think so, but still...I never thought you would sent my brother to house arrest.” Arya answered bitterly. “Don’t even try to deny it. I know exactly what you are doing.”

“This is a temporary arrangement.” Jon tried to explain before seating by her side on his bed. “Have I ever done anything to upset you?”

“No.” She answered simply. Her voice even sounded a bit childish.

Jon sat with his back resting against the bed’s headboard and mad sign for Arya to come and seat near him. A long time ago she would go to his bed whenever she had a nightmare and they would sleep together so Jon could keep the bad dreams away. He wonder if he still could keep the nightmares away, only with a different method.

“Come here.” Jon said and Arya obeyed. She sat between his legs so Jon could embrace her from behind. “You know that I would never do anything to hurt you, don’t you?” He asked before kissing the base of her neck. For a brief second Jon could feel her shivering.

“I do.” Arya agreed. “But why things have to be like this?”

“So we can be safe and prepared for the war that will inevitably reach out gates.” He insisted. “I need Bran there, keeping the peace and not giving foolish lords hope to depose me. And I want Waters there to help him, instead of keeping you distracted.”

“Why would Gendry keep me distracted? Distracted from what?” Arya questioned as she tried to turn and look at Jon’s face.

“From your true pack.” Jon said as he caressed her cheeks gently. “He doesn’t know his place and he keeps looking at you with hope that eventually you will return his feelings. This is not proper and he has no place in you life.”

“Now you are being absurd. I’ve told you. He is a friend and he helped me a great deal. There is nothing else and even if that was the case, since when you looked down on people like this?” Arya rebel nature had been triggered.

“I don’t like it when I see him looking at you as he does.” Jon said in a very decisive tone. “After all these years you are finally home and intend to keep you here. You are the Lady of Winterfell and not an adornment to be appreciated by his eyes.”

“I’m not the Lady of Winterfell. I’m not even sure of what I am now that you proclaimed yourself King and suddenly found out that you are Rhaegar and Lyanna’s son.” Arya argued. “I’m in some sort of limbo just waiting for you to decide what to do with me.” At that Jon kissed the base of her neck again.

“What would you have me do with you?” He asked almost in a whisper.

“I don’t know. Name me for a position in your council or at least let me manage the castle. I can run the household if you let me to.” Arya suggested without paying attention to how Jon’s hands slid the rem of her nightgown up.

“I have something more suitable in mind.” Jon said when his hands got near her tights. “I could make you Lady of Winterfell officially.”

“How?” When Arya noticed his hand on her tight it was too late. In a blink of an eye, Jon slid his hand between her legs to touch her in an indecorous way as he kept kissing her neck. “What…?”

“I’m in need of a Queen.” He said with his voice low, deep and dark. “I also need to put an end to those who question the legitimacy or my rule, but the main reason for it is that I can’t stand the idea of another man laying hands on you, so I’ll just make official what we have always known to be true.” His fingers sank withing her, making a little sound of surprise escape her mouth. “You are mine and I’m yours. It have always been like this, but I’m afraid my blood now demands more from you than just hugs and kisses on my cheek. I’ll have you, Arya; and I want that boy gone once he is reminded that you belong to me and no one else.”

[twit-writes]

Aizawa/Reader: Kitten Surprise?!

Summary: Reader tries to tell Aizawa that she’s pregnant but things don’t go as planned. 

Something was wrong with you. You weren’t quite sure what was going on though. Scrolling through the internet for answers led to the fruitful search of finding out you were going to die in a week. Shouta scoffed out loud when you told him the news in an attempt to humor your husband. That was a mistake you would never make again. It took you days to convince him that you didn’t actually believe what the internet said.

It was time to break the news to your husband again. But, this time it was happy news. You nodded to yourself, not knowing if you were trying to reassure yourself or the baby.

The baby.

You were quiet for a moment, grappling with the emotions bubbling within you. You tried taking deep breathes to calm yourself down, but it wasn’t working. You felt overwhelmed. You didn’t know what to feel.

Excitement?

Fear.

Your fingers curled tight around the pregnancy test. Were you and Shouta ready to become parents? You knew that you would do anything to protect the baby, this precious life that the both of you created together and you had no doubt that Shouta would do the same.

B-But, what if something happened? Shouta worked behind the scenes, but he was still a pro-hero nonetheless. Pro-heroes risked their lives everyday. What if Shou-

No, I can’t think like that. You shook your head to chase away the negative thoughts. It’s not like the two of you never talked about having children. The topic came up quite often, but those were plans for the future, not now. You’ve been together for over 5 years, but you guys were still settling into the marriage life.

You dragged your feet towards the couch and rested your head on the armrest. You remember that time when Shouta was idly spending his day off with you, cuddling on the sofa while watching TV. You got bored and turned towards your husband, snuggling in the crook of his arm while he lazily cracked an eye open.

“It’s too early,” Shouta grumbled, trying to turn the other way to go back to sleep. You snorted and climbed on top of him, “It’s noon. How is this spending time together if you’re just sleeping?”

Shouta tugged you down and wrapped his arms around your waist, “Date naps.”

You rolled your eyes at his cheeky response. The two of you didn’t say anything after that. You hummed in a soft tone while he leisurely played with your hair.

“This is nice,” you murmured, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hm.”

You smiled wistfully, “I wish it was always like this.”

Shouta stopped playing with your hair. “Is something wrong?” he asked in a slightly worried tone.

“Nothing’s wrong. I was thinking about the future. It might be too chaotic with a new addition. No more quiet moments like this,” you said, mindlessly twirling his long hair.

“Hm. We have to stock up on food,” Shouta mumbled.

“Think about noise.”

“And the clawing,” Shouta added.

“Yeah, the claw- wait clawing?” you quickly sat u  You quirked an eyebrow at your husband, “Babies don’t have claws.”

“I thought we were talking about getting a cat.”

You buried your face in your hands and groaned. Of course. You playfully slapped his chest when he gave you an amused grin, rubbing small circles on your back.

“Alright, cat mom.”

It was Shouta’s turn to let out a frustrated groan. “We agreed you would stop calling me that.”

You pinched his cheek and hummed, “But, it fits you. Besides, if we ever have children, they’ll be your kittens.”

Shouta muttered under his breath about your lame joke while your laughter became muffled in his tight embrace.

You gently rubbed your stomach, looking down with a warm and glowing smile. Just the thought of your husband filled you with so much warmth, erasing any lingering doubts in your mind. You loved him so much. He was protective of you. Shouta gave you a sense of comfort, even if he wasn’t by your side.

Suddenly, an idea came to mind and brought a mischievous smile to your lips. You happily sang to yourself as you bounced around the apartment to get the surprise ready.

You checked the time on your phone and then checked it again. Shouta was supposed to come home anytime now. You felt a sense of urgency the longer you waited, impatiently drumming your fingers on the table. You felt like you were going to burst from excitement. You wanted to record the stunned look of surprise on his face. Your face lit up with glee when you tried to imagine it. You heard the loud click of the lock and quickly scrambled behind the couch, peeking your phone out to capture the moment.

Shouta softly called out to you and shrugged his shoulders when you didn’t answer. He stifled a yawn and walked towards the TV to turn it off when he noticed the note placed on top of the assortment of cat-shaped cookies. You were pleased with yourself for coming up with such a clever line.

“We’re having a kitten”

With Shouta’s fond adoration of cats and the inside joke of him being a cat mom, you believed this was the most special way to break the news. This joke, although at Shouta’s expense, was something you two shared, making it more meaningful because it belonged to the two of you.  

Shouta munched on a cookie while he read your note. Your hands were beginning to tremble from holding the phone up so high, but you held your breath and waited. You were so eager to see the look of awe on his face. You were going to pop out of your hiding place and run into his arms. He would pull you close in an embrace, his lips warm against your forehead as he murmured in wonder-

Did he just n-nod?!

Your eyes weren’t deceiving you. Your husband had just looked around the room and nodded in the most casual manner. You were frozen to your spot, letting out a small noise of disbelief when you heard the door close. It felt like he threw cold water at you, still unable to move from the floor.

Your shock wore off, replaced by confusion. You knew he wasn’t upset, but the way he reacted was odd. Did he feel nervous too? Was he so overcome with fear that he felt the need to step out to calm himself? Shouta was good at keeping his expressions under control, but the idea of fatherhood must have cracked his impassive exterior. You didn’t blame him. You understood how that felt, the sense of dread made you doubt yourself. You wouldn’t let it do the same to Shouta.

Shouta would be a wonderful father.

You could see him sitting down with his shoulders hunched while your daughter played with his long hair, wishing that her hair was as nice as his.

You could picture your son chasing Shouta around in a game of tag. The small boy would stare at his father to erase his quirk, forgetting that the effect disappeared once he blinked. Shouta would play along to amuse him though.

You could almost trace the creases forming between his brows, frustrated at his chaotic teenage children. But, you knew that he would make sure the blankets were still tucked into the bed and kiss them on the head because he’s a softie.

You imagined Shouta giving away his daughter, trying his best to keep a neutral expression but wouldn’t be able to hide his teary eyes.

Your children would come to visit as the two of you grew older. You and Shouta would take leisure walks together, hand in hand, and enjoy each other’s company.

Shouta would grumble when his grandchild would refuse to let go of his legs. He would hold the rambunctious child in his arms, his gray hair shining in the sunlight as he leaned down to give him a peck.

That was the life you saw with Shouta. You wanted Shouta to see himself through your eyes. He would be an amazing father and you were determined to make your husband understand that he was more than enough. You would protect him from his self-doubts, just like how he protected you.

You jumped when you heard the sound of jingling keys. You steeled yourself as Shouta entered the apartment.

“Oh, there you are.”

You closed your eyes tightly and placed a hand over your heart, bracing yourself for the inevitable. Before you lost your courage, you quickly turned around to face him and felt your mouth drop.

Shouta was carrying a bag of dry cat food with a small bed lying beside his feet.

“We can get the toys late-”

Hysterical laughter filled the room, clenching your stomach to ease the pain. You felt your previous grievances melting away with every wave of laughter while Shouta looked on with wry amusement.

“What?”

“You’re such an idiot.”

Shouta flinched at your words, not understanding where this was coming from.

“I meant a real baby!”

Shouta paused for a moment and then cursed when he dropped everything on his foot, making you laugh even more.

“Wh-wha? W-we’re going to be-?” he stuttered as he ran towards you. He stopped in front of you and pulled you into his arms.

You cupped his face, looking at his slightly widened eyes, “We’re going to become parents,” you murmured in a gentle voice. A small echo escaped from his mouth and you smiled at his awed expression, “There it is.”

Before he could question what you said, you covered his lips in a long warm kiss and then another until you left him short of breath.

You leaned against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as he tugged the blanket to cover you. He was tracing your mouth with the other hand, squeezing your lips to make you look like a fish. Shouta chuckled when you glared at him. You abruptly sat up and looked at your husband, who gazed at you from down below.

“How come you didn’t get the inside joke?”

“It doesn’t work if it’s one-sided,” he said dryly.

You wanted to be offended by his comment but couldn’t when you heard his soft laughter. His strong arms slipped around your waist, drawing you back against him. Shouta rested his chin on your shoulder and lowered his hands to slowly rub your belly.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up, “Thank you.”

You tried to turn around to face him but Shouta tightened his grip, preventing you from moving. You were about to say something when a small strangled noise stopped you. You were rendered speechless, his tears slowly making your shoulder wet. You leaned back and looked up at him, wiping the tears from his cheeks. Shouta looked at you with watery eyes and in his look, there was nothing but love and gratitude.

The two of you spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, murmurs and whispers about the future you would share together.

[yoosungshoodie]

Mono No Aware — 物の哀れ

FANDOM: Kissed by the Baddest Bidder CHARACTERS: Eisuke Ichinomiya/MC WORD COUNT:  2216 GENRE: Angst WARNINGS: Illness, pregnancy. AUTHOR’S NOTE: Part one of two. Dedicated to @kiserusmoke and @catchthespade, I should really be working on my ongoing fics but Shauna challenged me to write in a tradeoff since I was having a horrible writer’s block. 

Mono no aware (物の哀れ) 1. the awareness of impermanence 2. the particular sadness or sensitivity regarding the passage of time 3. understanding the transience of life

Eisuke and her want a baby and get exactly that; but no good things come without a price.

When she drums her fingers over the top of his palms in the morning to wake him up, he thinks it’s one of the strangest things; the women he loved before were far less easily appeased. He doesn’t think much of their mornings besides the loving that comes with it, the warm coffee that emcomapasses the room and the quiet chatter. She tells him about her problems and he listens intently, even if his tone remains dipped in disinterest.

He’s never going to be accustomed to her, not ever. While his work ethic sometimes betrays him, his days are spent with her in mind, during meetings and presentations and phone calls and everything he could be doing. There are days when they’re troubled that he disregards his work entirely to think about her–a bad habit he’s picked up from being lovesick. Eisuke tells himself that he needs to do great things and it’s become more for her nowadays than to prove that there wasn’t a gaping hole in his heart.

Here are some things he knows:

There is an unsettled longing that satisfies itself whenever he’s so much as in her presence. He wakes up to his bed smelling like her and he thinks it is far better than any kind of perfume that was worn by the other women that came and went.

He is aware she watches him at night with wide eyes and utter adoration. He wants to tell her he’s sorry for all the times he’s been cold when she looks at him as if he had hung the stars and moon in the sky. While he pretends to be asleep, a hand that doesn’t belong to him caresses his cheek. Once, she tells him, “I hope you love me as much as I love you. I know it’s hard for you to be honest with your feelings.”

He doesn’t get that much sleep for the rest of the night.

When she wakes up, he’s the one that makes her coffee this time.

Words come easier to him when they’re less about his feelings and more about what he knows. He knows things like suits and meetings and graphs and presentations more than he does about the discomfort in his chest when he sees her with other men. For someone so precise, he’s entirely lost when it comes to his own emotions.

There are silent apologies that die in his throat when he’s cold with her; he doesn’t understand love like Baba and the others do. He secretly wants to apologize every time he knows he’s being too demanding of her and when he says things senselessly; it takes him a while to understand that the truth did not need to be brought to light at times.

He finds this out at first when he swiftly brings up Dubai and the mess that comes with it. Sporting a bullet wound, he reminds her that it would be odd if nothing happened at all while they were in England, and succinctly reminds her of Dubai. The fallen and teary look that crosses her features paired with a quiet resignation of words is enough to remind himself to never bring up Dubai again. He doesn’t.

In his heart of hearts, he wishes somewhere that he could be what she deserved. Takahiro was someone deserving of her; they could’ve been disgustingly normal and happy together if she had chosen him. And yet she didn’t.

So when she chooses him, he vows to know everything about her. He wants to know her and by consequence, know his emotions as well. While being out of control had been a new experience for him, he tells himself he wouldn’t mind, because it was her. He’d do anything for her.

And he has to give her credit, for dealing with someone like him. Eisuke knows and had vaguely calculated his probability of finding someone was slim. He understands he’s hard to love not because he can’t, but because he doesn’t know how. A fumbling fool in the name of love made embarrassments and apprehensiveness common; another thing he wasn’t used to. It works out though when he has the ability to keep a straight face through anything.

Eisuke understands that he’s indebted to her and he understands there’s only one thing to do: plan the rest of his life with her.

So he envisions great things, like twins or maybe a son who’s just as much as a brat as he is, champagne on anniversaries and promises kept throughout the years. Seeing her bloom from a fumbling hotel worker to a queen by his side was a sight; the possibilities with someone like her, deemed ordinary by everyone else, was endless. Thankfully, it’s her who brings up the notion of children first, despite it being a complete accident.

It was seldom that Eisuke had free time. The days he did were always spent with her, however, doing whatever mundane thing she wished for considering she had spent most of his work time at his beck and call.

This resulted in them walking hand in hand down a boardwalk, her mouth half filled with a pretzel he had bought her (they argued over who was going to pay briefly) and in the middle of a debate sparked from a screaming toddler.

“I’m not saying that kids aren’t annoying.”

“And they are.”

“So if we had a kid, would you call them an annoyance?”

“…Getting bold, aren’t we?”

It took her a moment to understand what he meant with that smirk, and her face lit up a glowing red when she realized what she’d done.

“Well! I mean, th-that’s just assuming you know… that we’d…” When her voice trailed off he couldn’t help himself from gripping her hand a little tighter, eyes wandering towards the path ahead of them while they had slowly made their way back to the Tres Spades.

“Of course we would. Where else am I going to get an heir of the Ichinomiya group from? Unless…”

“That’s not funny.” She swatted his arm defensively.

“It absolutely is.”

He understood that he loved her more than anyone he’d ever encounter, and when he had married her, he was aware that he could never love anyone besides her. In regards to his former lovers, he always wished he could pick apart pieces of them to keep and others to disregard; and with her, he wanted all of her. Every fiber and atom had to be his, and he wouldn’t dare leave anything out from her.

“Well, thank you.”

He stared at her quizzically, a brow knit upwards. “For what?”

“For letting me be the one to have the heir of the Ichinomiya Group.” She said ‘heir of the Ichinomiya Group’ as if she was reading off an expensive item from a menu.

“Well. I have high expectations of you.”

When she saw a blush settle itself over his features, he had gone out of his way to make a point that it was simply the sunset.

“And just what are we thinking bout so early in the morning?” He mumbled into her ear as he stood behind her, fingers moving up and down her sides.

She had been standing in front of the mirror to examine the vibrant hickeys he had left on her after a very long night together, and Eisuke found himself admiring his own work while he watched her. She was nothing short of stunning, and she was his.

“N-Nothing.” Her words tumbled out breathless, all adoration and love as a hand snaked around her waist and lips descended on her neck, intent on leaving another spot. A familiar smirk worked its way over to his lips while she let out an involuntary moan.

Known best to himself, responsibilities were important. They both had obligations that they needed to attend to and Eisuke enjoyed his work extensively. However, when it came to her, all sense of that flew out the door in replacement of spending time with her. His resolve was as shoddy as a teenager’s if she had any involvement in it.

And thus he remained relentless as a free hand began to glide lower and lower, until his fingers were placed over her underwear. That same hand had began rubbing itself rather mercilessly towards a particularly sensitive spot of hers, and the reaction he got out of her from that alone was enough to decide their plans for the rest of the morning. He knew he was being selfish at the moment.

“Ah… we can’t… I have to go to work soon…” She had murmured hoarsely, and Eisuke paid no consideration to her words as he turned her and set her on top of their bed.

He found himself on top of her, both hands to the sides of her head as she looked up at him entirely lust-ridden. Never change, he thought to himself as he inspected her.

“The only work you need to do,” His words trailed off as his lips began trailing down her neck again, a hand yanking the strap of her pajama downwards. “Is to satisfy me.”

The look of complete debauchery on her when he looked up was almost enough to make him lose his train of thought. She always looked so beautiful to him when her eyes turned glassy with pleasure and her cheeks flared a particular red he had never seen on another woman. He was reminded again that he was never to let her go or face his own demise as well.

“After all, the best part about having a baby is making one.”

It was a Thursday, and the love of his life was seven weeks pregnant. He had sighed and sifted through his memories while having a moment to himself between paperwork, twirling around the idea of a miniature her crawling about the penthouse.

It would be a good idea to start baby-proofing the place , Eisuke thought to himself as he inspected the office vaguely. The future had seemed so grandiose and large even in a way he couldn’t handle when he thought about it, and he was closed to getting himself carried away before the shrill ring of a phone had crash landed him back into reality.

“Eisuke?” Her voice was trembling, something that rarely happened. It had taken Eisuke nine seconds to consider all the worst case scenarios that would flood his mind, and he could already picture the watery smile that always placed itself on her features when she was upset. He had half the muscle memory to reach out and crush her against his chest, but she wasn’t there at the moment.

Calm down.

“What is it?” He knew something was wrong. His brain was screaming it, despite the silence.

Calm down.

“There’s— I’m coming home right now. Are you busy?”

Calm down.

She was holding back tears, he noted sharply as he sat up in his seat. The paperwork could be done with later, the meeting in three hours and twenty six minutes could be pushed back for tomorrow, and Kenzaki could handle whatever came up if Eisuke had sounded irritated enough over the phone.

“I finished work early.” He lied swiftly as he shut his laptop and left his office, a free hand nervously placed on the nape of his neck. He didn’t need her to feel bad about taking up his time; he would’ve been too nervous to do any real work for the rest of the day anyways.

“Okay. I’ll be home soon.”

She was trying to be strong and he could tell by the strength in her voice before she hung up, which concerned him more than it should—the scenarios that ran through his mind were nothing short of morbid and awful, but all plausible.

He ran through the ideas like he ran through his talking points before a meeting. Her mother died, her father died, she was having an affair, the baby wasn’t his, she lost the baby, this and that and every awful thought he keeps to himself comes flooding to mind in the five minutes he counts (by the seconds) for her to come home.

He saw her walk in at four minutes and forty two seconds with her fingers trembling so much he could see it from across the room.

“What’s wrong?” It sounded more like a statement than a question. He wasted no time making his way over to her, a hand moving to press against the back of her head and another against her waist as he pulled her to him.

She was crying, and he could hear every sniffle and feel every shaky exhale when he held her.

Say it. Just say it. Whatever it is, we can work with it. He didn’t have it in him to speak.

“…Cervical cancer.”

He didn’t so much as breathe. “What?”

She took no consideration to answer him, instead finding herself crumpled against his chest with loud sobs that almost seemed childlike considering the intensity of it.

For once, Eisuke Ichinomiya had been cornered in such a helpless way he can only remember this feeling vaguely from his childhood. It didn’t settle with him well. The only thing he could do in that moment was to hold her.