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Summary | When you let a broken-hearted Steven into your apartment, you never thought that this would happen. They needed comfort, you wanted to give it to them - but somewhere in the midst of it all, ‘comfort’ became something much, much more. Something it shouldn’t have.
Just like The Casanovas said, how can something so wrong, feel so right?
(Mentions of cheating. Dabble of fluff, bucket of angst and a little bit of NSFW. <33)
── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──
It was pouring outside, the dim street lights a mere flicker in the darkness when you heard the knock at your door. The wooden spoon you’d been using to stir your dinner came to an abrupt halt, your eyebrows drawing together. You rested the spoon gently against the side of the pot, turning down the temperature on the stove before making your way towards your front door.
It’s late. The sleeping city outside offers nothing more than the barks of restless dogs and the coo’s of awakening owls. Your footsteps against the hardwood floor of the hallway are soft, toes buried deep in a pair of fuzzy socks you’d gotten for your birthday last year. The apartment is bathed in black, the only light coming from your small kitchen. It should have been comforting, cosy even - but all it did was remind you of how lonely you really were. The knocking at your door was an anomaly in your never-changing routine, a little bit of excitement for the day. After this, you would finish making your dinner, sit down to eat it in the lounge and then you would go to bed - only to wake up in the morning and rinse and repeat all over again.
London was supposed to be the change you needed. It was supposed to be all fun and adventure, relationships and new opportunities, but all it did was lock you in an office 24/7 and make you feel like more of a recluse than ever before.
You’d lived here for a couple of years now, but it never got easier. For you, at least. Your sister on the other hand, whom you’d moved into London with from the homely abode of your small family farm, had had a better time. She’d gotten a job that paid well, a small house in a quiet suburb, she’d made friends, taken risks and after a year (you really tried not to roll your eyes in jealousy) had landed herself a nice, handsome fiance who worshipped the very ground she walked on. But that didn’t matter, right? You still had individuality, didn’t you? Freedom? A chance to reroute your whole life and drag yourself from the inevitable dark pit you were stuck in…?
Okay, you were miserable. So what?
Talking of your sister, it came as a big surprise to find said fiance, Marc Spector, on the other side of your peephole. At least, you thought it was Marc Spector. Maybe it was Steven. Or the other one, Jake Lockley. To be honest, you still didn’t completely understand the whole altar thing. Your sister, in all her indifference, had never really bothered to explain it to you, but you supposed it wasn't really any of your business anyways. As long as she was happy and he (they?) were happy then who the hell cared.
You didn’t hesitate to unlock your door, swinging it open to come face to face with one seriously frazzled looking man.
“Hiya...”
The British accent and mumbled greeting was lost on you as you took in how he was standing, jacket sopping wet from the rain and hair flying around his head like a crazy scientist. He wouldn’t make eye contact, hunched in on himself, neck craned awkwardly downwards and foot tapping incessantly against the ground.
You blinked at him stupidly. What in the…
“Steven?” you questioned, stepping back to usher him inside. “The hell are you doing? Are you alright?”
You had met Steven enough times to be able to pick him from the accent. He was usually the one to appear at family gatherings and he’d been the first one your sister introduced you to when she started dating them. The downcast look haunting his face was concerning.
“M’sorry,” he mumbled as he shuffled over the threshold, coat leaving droplets of water across your floor. “Didn’t know where else to go.” You tilted your head but didn’t reply, closing the door shut behind him.
The both of you stood there in silence for a second, neither really knowing what to say. Finally, you found your voice.
“Let me take your coat, you look like you're one shiver away from catching a cold.” He stared wide-eyed at you but nodded mutely, handing you his drenched jacket hesitantly. You motioned for him to follow you as you made your way to your living room, chucking the coat carelessly into your laundry as you passed. As you got to the open space of your lounge, you quickly flicked on the light, embarrassed at how you seemed to be living in the darkness like a vampire. Steven didn’t say anything though and you relaxed a bit, snatching up your warm, fluffy blanket from the couch. When you turned, he was standing in the doorway, hands buried in his pockets and lips pulled into a frown. He looked rough.
You cleared your throat, holding out the blanket awkwardly. Steven’s eyes came up from where they had been locked on the floor, staring at the offering in your hands quizzically. When he didn’t come any closer, you chose to approach him, hands carefully wrapping the fabric over his trembling shoulders. With a nervous wince, you pushed the hair splayed over his forehead back, hoping it wasn’t too intrusive. He gave a tightlipped smile at you then, his hands softly grabbing the blanket that covered him. You almost missed the quiet thanks that left his lips.
“Yeah, right, um.” You fumbled over your words, eye darting towards where his shoes had trekked mud across the floor. You blew out a breath but didn’t comment. “Do you wanna take your shoes off and go sit on the couch or something? Um, I’ll get you something warm from the kitchen. Coffee? Tea? I could do hot chocolate? Um..”
Steven smiled at you again, this time a little more genuine. “Thank you, love. Tea would be good, if it’s not a bother. Ah,” he glanced back at where he had walked. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. You waved him off and motioned towards your small black couch. He was quick to take his shoes off, padding towards it. With a sigh, he dropped back into the pillows, hands instantly moving to run through his hair and head dropping forward.
Before you got stuck staring at him, you quickly made your way into the kitchen, switching on the kettle. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the bubbling red of your dinner.
“Shit,” you cursed, having forgotten about the food. It probably wasn’t edible anymore, if the burnt brown of it meant anything. You sulked as you turned the stove off and moved the pot off the fading heat. As you waited for the water to boil, you took a second to look at your reflection in the microwave, realising that, damn, you kinda looked like crap right now. It was probably a good thing Steven seemed a bit too out of it to notice, not that he would have said anything even if he did see your unruly state.
The kettle whistled and you scurried over, assessing the different boxes of tea you had spread along the wall. You loved the stuff, but you had no idea which one Steven would want. With pursed lips, you took a sachet of green tea from the previously unopened box; Steven did seem like a green tea kind of guy.
When you came back into the living room, he was sat hunched over, his head buried in his hands. You frowned at the sight, collapsing down onto the couch next to him. He looked up as you did, eyes glossy with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Quietly, you passed him the cup.
“Thank you so much,” he murmured, blowing over the hot contents. He took a sip of the tea and a look of calm washed over his features, eyes closing momentarily before looking over to you. “How’d you know green tea was my favourite?” he joked weakly.
Your lips quirked upwards into a grin. “You just seem like a green tea kind of guy.”
Steven smiled at that, shaking his dark curls that were now beginning to dry.
WIth a thoughtful hum, you continued. “Personally, I can’t stand the stuff, by all means, take it home with you. Don’t tell my sister you got it from me though, she was the one who gave it to me in the first place.” With the cuppa clutched tightly between his hands, Steven paused. His mouth instantly curled into a frown. You watched it happen, hands fiddling together anxiously in your lap. “Steven,” you tried. “What happened? Why are you here?”
His eyes closed again, but this time they were clenched tightly as though he was in pain. His lips sealed shut.
“Steven,” you urged, but he just shook his head. You sighed. You didn’t want to push him, but when he showed up at your door in the middle of the night, soaked from head to toe and looking like death was on his heels, you couldn’t help but worry.
You went to speak again but stopped as something in the room changed. It was barely noticeable, like a spider winding a web in the corner of a room when you weren’t watching. But it was there. Whatever it was. Steven’s back straightened, and suddenly he was staring at you. His sad, brown eyes now narrowed and cold.
You didn’t know what to say.
“Steven caught her fuckin’ another man,” said Steven. Though it wasn’t Steven, was it? No, the accent wasn’t British and the words definitely weren’t ones that would pass the reserved lips of Steven Grant.
“Marc?” you asked.
He smiled wryly at you. “Try again.”
Your mouth opened and closed, “Jake?” Your eyebrows knit together, fingers clenching at your side. Unlike the other two, you had only met Jake on two occasions. The first time was at some random supermarket in the middle of the night. You’d been trying to fulfil your chocolate cravings when you’d bumped into Jake, mistakenly taking him for Steven. You’d eagerly embraced him (in your defence, your sister had told you about a promotion he got at work that he’d really been wanting - and by told, you mean complained - and you thought he deserved a little bit of recognition and congratulations for it) and you very soon found out that it was in fact not Steven, if the heavy drawl and suggestive comments were anything to go by. The second time, the odder encounter of the two, Jake had shown up to your apartment, drunk out of his mind and rambling about some old Egyptian bird or something like that. Needless to say, that one warranted a quick call to your sister to come pick him up...you weren’t too sure how he even knew your address anyways.
When you registered what he had just said, your eyes widened in surprise.
“She was cheating on you?” You shot at him in a scandalised whisper. He shrugged his large shoulders.
“Yeah.”
“And Steven caught her doing it?” you gasp.
“Sí.”
“Oh my god.” You squeak, nearly falling off the couch in surprise. “Oh my god,” you repeat.
“Careful, you look like you’re about to have a heart attack.” The dark haired man glared at the cup in his hands before taking a small sip. His face crumpled like paper. “¡Mierda! What is this shit? You got something better? Scotch, whiskey, a beer? Dios Mío, woman.”
You stared at him blankly, too stunned at the revelation that your sister would do something like that. Jake waved a hand at you.
“Hello?”
“Oh my god,” you said one last time, for good measure. “Yeah, yeah I’ll get you something else. I - I’m so sorry. Wow. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Can you tell Steven I’m sorry? That is just. Wow, I shouldn’t have pushed him about it. I, I just, wow.”
It was Jake's turn to stare at you blankly.
“You don’t have to apologise to me, sweetheart. I hardly liked the bitch anyways.” Your eyes widened even more (if that was possible) but you kept your mouth shut. That was your sister he was talking about… “Steven was being too much of a pussy to tell you what happened,” Jake stretched back onto the couch and grinned at you. “So about that drink?”
You shot up from the couch. Right, the drink. Surely you’d have something in the fridge. Before you could hurry away to the kitchen, Jake was suddenly tugging at your shirt.
“Wait, wait, hold up,” he grunted. You looked back in confusion but he was staring across the room at a mirror hanging on your wall. “Yeah, well why don’t you come out and deal with this shit then, puta? No, no, and you - you're the one who dragged our asses here.” Jake sneered, looking mightily affronted. “Ay? I’m not making her do anything! It’s her pleasure to do this, she - “ he paused before looking up at you expectantly. “You wanna help us, don't you, sweetheart?”
You glanced around in confusion but slowly nodded your head. “I guess?”
“You see? Oh for fucks - oh my god. I’m done. No, no, deal with it yourself. Dios mío, pequeño idiota estúpido.” Jake’s chocolate eyes met yours and he smiled sarcastically. “I’ll see you around, beautiful.”
Like a switch being flipped, Jake’s body tensed up and his cold brown eyes turned to molten lava.
The hand that had been gripping at your shirt dropped and a scowl appeared on his lips.
“You don’t have to run after Jake and Steven like a fucken’ maid, y’know.” You didn’t reply, mind-boggled. The angry brunette in front of you stood up, shrugging off the blanket that had been covering him and started pacing across the carpeted floor of your lounge. You watched it happen in shock, not knowing what had just transpired.
Before you could ask, Marc (or at least you assumed it was Marc) started muttering to himself.
You sat back down, hoping it would ground you a little.
“Uh, Marc?” You asked. He didn’t reply, still walking around like a man possessed. “Marc,” you called again, worry evident in your voice. When he still refused to stop, you sucked in a deep breath, mustering up what little firmness you owned. “Marc!”
He stopped and his wild eyes met yours. “Sorry…sorry.”
Your lips parted slightly. So it was him. “Sit down, Marc,” you requested softly. To your surprise, he actually listened, slumping back down onto the sofa. “I’m sorry,” you started, not really sure what to say to him at this moment.
He stared at you for a second before glancing away.
“It’s whatever. It’s not your fault.”
You pursed your lips. “It’s still my sister who did that. And, y’know, I’m sorry for making you mad. I really was just trying to help.”
Marc looked at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “Mad? No, no I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at them. At her. At - at me.” Your mouth made an ‘o’ shape.
“If you need something…I mean, I'm no expert in relationships but I reckon you’re feeling pretty bummed right now.”
Marc scoffed. “Bummed? My fiance was having sex with another man. I think I’m a bit more than bummed.”
You lowered your head. “You're right. Sorry.”
Across from you, Marc huffed. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t treat you like this after you let us into your home. Just -” Marc groaned, like trying to speak about his feelings was the most difficult task he’d ever been given. “I just loved her, y’know?”
You smiled sadly at him. “From what she told me, she loved you too. Loves you.”
“Yeah? Well if she loved us so much, she wouldn’t have felt the need to fuck someone else.” his full lips tugged down. “I mean, shit, sometimes it felt like she didn’t even like Jake and I. Feels like she was just with us ‘cause she wanted Steven. And even then, she took advantage of him because he was too much of a dumb, in-love idiot to know better.”
You wanted to argue this - say something that would make him feel better, but truthfully you couldn’t. Your sister didn’t talk about them much, but when she did, it was always; Steven that and Steven this. And, more often than not, it was her complaining about something he had done. Hell, one time she had rang you up to whinge about an apparently ‘awful’ date he’d taken her on to a museum.
Honestly, you thought she was just lucky to have someone take her anywhere.
It wasn’t that your sister was a bad person (though that was questionable after what you’d just found out), she was just a little bit spoiled with the riches of life. She got what she wanted. She got who she wanted. And clearly, she took it for granted. But even then, it was beyond you how she could do something like that to a man who, from what you had bore witness to, would give her the world. You didn’t know them very well, but from Steven’s kindness, to Marc’s dry humour and even Jake’s unparalleled charm, they seemed, to be honest, not short of the perfect fiance.
Maybe you were a little jealous.
You said instead, not quite sure how to properly respond to Marc’s heartfelt confession, “So, no marriage then?” You worried that it might have been a tad insensitive.
Marc cracked a sad, small smile. “No, I don't think so.”
“That’s probably a good thing. Let me tell you, she probably would have been the biggest bridezilla to walk this earth.” Your attempt to lighten the mood didn’t go unnoticed.
“You know, one time she got pissed at me because I didn’t fluff the pillows for her after getting out of bed.”
You can’t help the laugh that bursts out of you at Marc’s unexpected words.
“Sorry, what?”
He continued in a reminiscent tone, “She said that if Steven were there, he’d have fluffed the pillows, fixed the blankets and gotten her a cup of coffee.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “I told her she could do all of that herself and threw a pillow at her face.”
Your face scrunched as you tried not to laugh again.
“Maybe it is my fault she cheated on us,” he said blandly, head dropping back against the couch as his eyes met yours. A giggle escaped your lips and you instantly clapped a hand over your mouth. “You think me being cheated on is funny?” he asked. You quickly shook your head.
“No, no I’m sorry, Marc. It’s not funny at all. Promise.”
Marc shook his head, “Was just teasin’.”
The smile stays on his lips but his eyes drop, a hefty sigh moving his chest. When he looks at you again, he reminds you of a little boy. Lost. In need of comfort. He reminds you of yourself.
“You know, maybe Steven met the wrong sister first.”
His cheeks raise for a second as he smiles tightly at you. For a second his words don't register, but when they do, a hue of red rushes to your cheeks.
“Thanks, Marc,” you say gently. “I really am sorry about what happened.”
“I know,” he sighs. “I know.”
And as you sit there watching him, his dark ruffled hair and full pink lips, something painful gnaws at your stomach. Maybe Steven did meet the wrong sister first. You stand up, toes sinking into the plush carpet below.
“I know I don’t have to, but let me get you something to drink anyways.”
-
“Marc,” you gasped as his large hands slid around your waist, pulling you deeper onto him with every thrust of his hips. “Oh, fuck.”
The softness of your bedsheets sink against your clawed grip, the wooden frame of your bed scratching up against the wall with every movement from the man on top of you.
He was everywhere. Everything. Touching, biting, kissing, loving.
It was enough to make tears well up in your eyes. Enough to make you turn your head and conceal a quiet sob into the pillow beside you. It was enough and it was nothing all at the same time.
How did you get here? With your legs sprawled over Marc’s strong, muscular shoulders and his warm, soft body pressed tightly against you. How did you find yourself reaching a high you’d never felt, his name falling off your lips in hurried gasps for breath and whispered sobs of ecstasy?
He wasn’t yours. He never was.
But still, as you came, clutched tight to his body, lips pressed close to one another, just for a second, it felt like he was. Like he could’ve been.
And shit, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt like hell.
“That’s it, baby,” he muttered into the skin of your neck, teeth pulling at whatever they could find. “Good girl, just like that. Fuck. Yeah.”
He sighed, his hands clenched into fists, breaths unhurried and heavy against you.
This could be paradise.
You wished it was paradise.
But fuck, all you could think about was how you were the worst sister in the world.
You shouldn’t have let this happen. You shouldn’t have been so weak. When Steven showed up at your door close to tears, his large frame shivering and his eyes so wide and sad, and when Jake took control of the body for a split second, with his dry wit and crude grins and when Marc, sweet, rageful Marc, had tried to make things less awkward, had tried to act like the woman he loved didn’t just shatter his heart…you should have done what any good sister-in-law would do, you should have offered him a spot on the couch until he could sort things out and go back home. You should have comforted him, given him a shoulder to cry on, called your sister and bitten her head off for being the most ungrateful woman in the world. You should have, but you didn’t.
You shouldn’t have given him that beer. Or the one after that. Or the four that followed. A grieving man and a shit ton of alcohol was nothing but a recipe for disaster.
“You really gonna make me drink alone?” Marc asked, lips upturned in an inviting smirk.
And how could you say no when he looked at you like that? “Yeah, alright, just a couple. I think we both need it after tonight.”
It was more than ‘just a couple.’
You shouldn’t have let him touch you like he did, shouldn’t have convinced yourself you were just being a good friend. You shouldn’t have been so weak and drunk and - and stupid.
But it was too late for regrets now.
The feeling of a hand cupping your cheek dragged you out from your inner turmoil. Marc was staring at you, his dewey brown eyes fixed squarely on yours. The crinkle on his forehead told you he was confused, an expression that reminded you more of Steven than anything else. You hadn’t even noticed him fixing up the blankets around you, or putting on his briefs. It had to have been the middle of the night by now, early morning even. The last few hours had been a haze…a sweaty, passionate, pink haze.
As your eyes roved over Marc's face, a sudden guilt churned in your stomach. You tried to rationalise it, he had come onto you, not the other way around. But you knew that it was as much your fault as it was his. You were both drunk. He was trying to forget about his fiance’s infidelity and you…
What did you want, really, in your drunkenness?
The question scared you. It scared you so much that you ground your teeth and refused to dwell on it any longer.
“You should get some rest, Marc,” you whispered gently, eyes looking everywhere but him. He mumbled something under his breath before burrowing himself down into the white sheets of your bed, his dark locks a mess. His back rippled with muscles as he got himself comfortable and you forced yourself not to look.
This was wrong. So, so wrong.
You didn’t want to know if Marc was still tipsy, or if over the last few hours, he’d come out of the drunken fog like you had. You didn’t want to know, because if Marc really had been intoxicated the whole time - if he had been so out of it, that he could barely register who he was fucking, then that meant he didn’t mean anything he had said, or did. And that stung, just a little bit more than it should’ve - you were, after all, just his fiance's sister.
It didn’t matter now anyways, he was out cold.
When you heard his soft snores start to fill the room, you slinked out of bed, your feet carrying you through your apartment. The chill of the late Autumn weather had you wrapping your arms tighter around yourself.
In the bathroom, all you could do was stare. The person looking back at you with the tousled hair and red marks left a sour taste in your mouth. Marc was your sisters fiance for fucks sake. It didn’t matter if she’d cheated on him, that didn’t give you the right to just - to just, what. Fuck him? Use him to fulfil your own lonely, desperate desires?
Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Loneliness. A longing for something, or someone.
You liked Marc, you liked Steven - hell you even liked Jake for what little you knew of him, but they were due to be wed to your sister in a couple of months. Did this not make you some sort of homewrecker? Sure, your sister had done it to him first but…but.
But nothing. You didn’t know what to think. All these feelings bubbling to the surface were too much.
The tears caught you by surprise. What had you done? Your sister would hate you. Marc would wake up in the morning and hate you. Steven probably hated you for sleeping with Marc. You hated you right now.
You couldn’t look at yourself any longer, couldn’t stand to think about this for another second.
You left the bathroom and headed for the couch, the place where this whole mess had started, curling yourself around your deserted blanket. You clenched your eyes shut, begging for the quiet solitude of sleep. There was too much on your mind, and…
…And god it was wrong, but the feel of his hands on you kept you awake till the first rays of morning light shone through the windows of your small apartment.
Summary | A nice night with your boyfriend Marc quickly unveils into chaos. A third altar? A horrifying demon? Your half-assed Egyptian God of Wind and Air, Shu? What could possibly go wrong.
—
“Here you go.”
You smile sweetly at your boyfriend as you set the cup down on the coffee table, taking care not to spill the hot contents inside.
“Thanks, baby,” Marc says as he sinks further into the couch, the NFL playing on the television becoming a background buzz. You watch him with furrowed eyebrows, his eyes fluttering shut briefly before snapping open again. His breathing is heavier than normal and it’s almost as if he’s curling in on himself as he sits there, eyes blank.
“You alright, Marc?” You murmur, reaching over to lay a hand on his shoulder softly. At the contact, his gaze shoots to you. He mumbles something incoherent before speaking up.
“Mm, i’m alright, hon. Jus’ a little dizzy. That’s all…”
You hum noncommittally, not sitting down yet as you observe him carefully.
“Stevey’s not trying to front, is he?” you ask calmly, head tilting in question. A few dark locks of hair fall over his forehead as he blinks blearily over at you. His strong jaw is accentuated by the gentle glow of the lamp, his features seeming to darken with exhaustion. “Marc?”
He shakes his head.
Your lips thin as you keep watching him, a part of you suspecting that Steven was, in fact, trying to take the body. He continues to sit there in a haze, and you think for a moment before cupping his face gingerly. He blinks up at you, though it's as if he's not really seeing you.
“I’m gonna get you some water, alright? I don’t think coffee is gonna do you any good right now.”
Marc doesn’t respond. Turning on your heel, you quickly make your way back into the kitchen, hands wringing together in worry. Marc can handle it, you remind yourself. He’s a big boy. Nevertheless, you can’t help but put an extra hop in your step, hoping to get the glass of water and return to his side pronto. The glass is cold in your hands, the filtered water that had been sitting in the fridge making it even more so. Though you can’t see into the lounge from where you are, you can't help but keep glancing towards the doorway in concern for your lover.
The water quickly rises to the top of the cup. You hurry back into the room.
Except now, Marc isn’t there. You stop in place, lips pursing. Where had he…? Before your mind could come up with anything crazy, you heard the soft thud of footsteps approaching you from behind.
“Marc, lovely? How are you…feeling?”
As you spun around to face him, your words slowly trailed off. Marc was standing there, but immediately you could tell there was something off. His eyes seemed to have gotten somehow darker, his back straighter than usual. Any signs of his previous delirious state had practically vanished into thin air. You cocked your head to the side, assessing him. Silently, he stared back, his empty stare now a piercing glare.
“Marc?” you cleared your throat, “You alright?”
Slowly, like a creeping vine, a smile made its way across his lips.
“Fine, darling.” He replied, though there was something off about that too. His voice was rasping just a little too much, a strange accent lacing his voice. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay?”
You blinked a couple of times while you processed his words.
“Fine,” you stammered. “Um, I suppose you’re feeling better then.” You amended, not fully believing that he was just suddenly okay. Just to make sure, you shot him a sheepish grin, beckoning him over. Wordlessly, he answered your call, coming closer. When he was within reaching distance, you raised the back of your hand to his forehead, feeling the skin there for any signs of a fever. At the unexpected action, he looked down at you with confusion, body tensing. Before he could ask, you were already retracting your hand to your side. “You’re not coming down with something, right? I mean, you don’t feel warm but your voice…”
His dark chocolate eyes met yours with a sudden intensity, making you bring your bottom lip between your teeth. Nervous. Why were you nervous all of a sudden?
“Maybe I am getting sick,” he said slowly, eyes tracking the length of your face carefully. “I feel a little…faint.”
Knew it. You gave him a reprimanding look, bringing your hands up to push him back down onto the couch next to you. He went down with ease, not putting up a fight. Remembering the glass of water you had discarded onto the table, you quickly found it, situating it in his hands.
“Drink,” you ordered.
He did so, eyes still not leaving you even as his throat bobbed with each swallow. You mirrored him, eyes a little tight around the edge as you regarded his actions. A dreadful feeling crept up your spine but you shrugged it off for the time being, leaning onto the arm of the sofa casually.
“Can’t believe Konshu would let his avatar get sick,” you murmured, loud enough for Marc to hear. “I’d say the old geezer’s not exactly doing his job right, is he?” The silence that met you was eerie. Marc lowered the glass from his lips, reaching over to place it on the oak table. He didn’t say anything, didn’t laugh. Normally, Marc would be the first to laugh at any remark or joke made at Konshu’s expense, so this quiet response had you concerned. He must have realised his silence unsettled you, as the next moment he was cracking a small grin.
“Yes, well…” he didn’t finish his sentence. Just sat there, something heavy going on behind those almond eyes of his. You wanted to do something, hold his hand, but that daunting feeling was back. When he glanced at you, you swore that, even for a second, you were looking at a stranger. But if it wasn’t Marc, then who was it? At the thought, you blinked repetitively, mentally scolding yourself. You were just paranoid. All the worry for his well being was turning your head into mush. But the idea was incessant, haunting. Maybe something funny was going on up in his deep and complex mind; perhaps Steven was causing a ruckus. You nearly laughed at the thought of your sweet British man doing anything remotely annoying or ‘causing a ruckus.’
“Hey, Marc?” you spoke, conscientious about what you were saying. “Are you sure you’re the only one driving the car, right now? I mean, Steven’s not shotgunning, right?” He looked at you with bewilderment, as if the analogy wasn’t one the two of you had used a thousand times before. Quickly though, you watched as he dispersed of the shock and instead, shook his head calmly.
“No.”
“Oh,” you whispered. “Oh, okay.”
Just then, a dark shadow flew past the corner of your eye. When you tilted your head slightly to the left, you were met with the sight of your very own god, Shu, standing by the bookcase in the corner of the room. Very minutely, you raised your eyebrows; a silent query.
His response was instantaneous.
That is not Marc Spector, little mortal.
Your eyes widened a tad but you schooled your features, urging him to continue with a slight wave of your hand. In front of you, Marc had his eyes trained to the tv, lips curled into a displeased frown. Though you wanted to inquire more from your god directly, it didn’t seem like the right thing to do given the situation at hand.
There is a darkness radiating off him. Like a plague. But I'm not quite sure what it is…
A plague? Curious, you peeked over at where Shu was standing, but was met with the barren walls of the apartment instead. You couldn’t help but mutter a soft curse. That annoying old prick. Hearing your profanity, Marc peered back at you again, a salacious grin curving his lips.
“Filthy mouth, mi amor.”
What were meant to be supposedly cute words had you holding back a flinch. Marc never spoke Spanish to you; and he certainly never called you his ‘amor’. You couldn’t show him that though, so instead of gaping in shock like you wanted to, you returned his teasing with a cheeky little smile.
“¿Sí? Mala mía, nena.” Something twinkled in his eyes as he leaned towards you. He clicked his tongue tauntingly. Though there was something strange going on, and there was a large possibility that this wasn’t Marc - it was still his body, and you were still just as attracted to it as you were twenty minutes ago, which didn’t help much at all.
“No bueno, not good at all.” he admonished, dark eyes looking you up and down like prey. Beside you, your hand clenched into a fist. Spanglish banter with Marc? Something was definitely up.
You hesitantly stood up, nodding towards the kitchen.
“I’ll be right back, need some water.” Marc waved at his nearly empty glass.
“You can have some of mine, hermosa.” He eyed you quizzically as you shook your head.
“You’re sick, remember?” you huffed out a quiet laugh over your shoulder, already walking away. Back turned, you missed the way his lips straightened seriously, eyelids falling into a bored expression.
This time as you crossed the threshold, you were in a rush for a whole other reason.
Be careful, little mortal. That is definitely not one of your boy-toys in that meatsuit.
You jumped at the booming voice in your head, whipping around to the kitchen counter where Shu had returned, sitting nonchalantly on a stool. You narrowed your eyes at him.
“Yeah, thanks, I got that part.” you hissed quietly, walking towards your knife block. “But if it’s not Marc, and it’s not Steven - who the hell is it?” The ancient Egyptian made a shrugging gesture at you, ostrich feather flopping around on his head while he looked around the room.
Something dark. Something ominous.
“Okay, would you stop it with the mysterious, vague crap? What is - “ you paused suddenly, ears faintly picking up on movement from beyond the door. The hand that had been reaching for your chef's knife instantly stopped and redirected to the cupboard above your head, in an attempt to appear like you were searching for a glass.
Uh-oh.
You shot a last minute glare at the wind god, grabbing hold of a glass as you heard footsteps hit the tiled floor of the kitchen. Briefly, you closed your eyes and took a calming breath. Whatever this was - you would deal with it. A cold draft made its way up your spine.
Don’t turn around, little one.
Shu warned you, his usual booming cadence levelling out as he watched over you. As you observed him from the corner of your eye, you watched as he mimicked a gun with two dark fingers, your lips downturning at the action.
“Oh, hey Marc?” you asked in an attempt of casual indifference, one hand grasping at the door to the fridge. He took a moment to answer.
“Yes?”
It was almost like he wasn’t even trying to hide the New York accent anymore.
“Steven forgot to feed Gus and Frankie this morning. Could you…?” he anticipated your question and you heard the hefty sigh that escaped his lips behind you. There was a slight tapping sound against the floor before you heard him walking off to supposedly feed the goldfish. You let out a breath of relief, go you.
It was a lie, of course. Steven could never forget to feed the fish. However, Marc had been fronting all day, and well, Marc didn’t really care for, in his words, ‘the stupid pets’. Naturally then, it was your job to feed the fish when Steven wasn’t present; though, you had returned home from a mission early this morning and had fallen right into bed with Marc, your fatigued mind not even remembering till now that you owned Gus and Frankie. Still, the excuse to get this Marc imposter away from you and unsuspecting was as good as any.
Make haste, little mortal. He will kill you if you don’t do it first.
You directed an angry snarl at your god.
“I’m not killing my boyfriend.”
Though as you said this, the silver of the knife sheened as it slipped from the block.
Why don’t you just wear the suit?
“Because I’m trying not to let on that I know he’s not Marc!” You whispered angrily, stalking around the counter and stopping at the hallway door.
The suit will keep you safe.
“If I need the suit, then give me the damn suit. But for now, shut up and watch my back.” The god huffed dramatically in your head but you ignored it, creeping along the wall till Marc, or Marc’s body you guess you should say, came into view. He was standing at the fish tank, large hands fiddling with a packet of feed.
You nearly started cursing at him - that was the wrong stuff! He was holding the special treat pellets Steven liked to give them when they behaved. The bloody bags cost double the amount of normal feed. Steven wouldn’t be happy if it was wasted, neither would you.
Delicately, you snuck up behind him, air stuck in your lungs. The knife you brandished was tucked closely to the small of your back, your eyes never leaving the enigmatic figure in front of you. Appearing stoic and collected on the outside, you were freaking the hell out on the inside. You hadn’t thought this far ahead. Would you threaten him? Demand him to reveal himself? You weren’t going to actually hurt this dude, right? Afterall, it was still your boyfriend's body and just the idea of bringing him harm caused a gnawing pit to grow in your stomach. You’d known Marc for well over a year now, and although your first meeting had technically been a fight between the two of you (a petty god vs a pettier god kind of thing) it had been the last time you had laid hands on eachother so violently and with so much ill intent.
It’d bring you a lot of pain to hurt Marc, but him hurting you? It would kill him. So, the fact that this guy was seemingly trying to outright murder you…Yeah, it stung a little. Imagining Marc or Steven finding you dead on the floor made you feel sick to the stomach.
With that in mind, you crept closer, only a step away from grabbing him and putting the knife to his throat like you intended. You weren’t going to cut him - no way, you were just gonna scare him a little and hopefully get some answers.
Well, that was the plan at least.
Until he whipped around and pointed a beretta M9 straight at your chest.
Your eyes widened.
“Hold on -”
He did not.
You saw the squeezing of his finger, heard the click of the gun and then your ears began to ring with the sound of a gunshot. Straight into the heart.
Gasping for breath, you stumbled back, eyes frantically darting to the golden chestplate now wrapping around your torso.
Told you, you needed the suit.
Your panicked expression quickly morphed into one of fury, hands shaking by your side. The chef's knife that you had intended to use was quickly chucked behind you as you snatched your spear from your back, your armour now encasing your whole body.
“You asshole!” You yelled at the man, stunned at how easily he had tried to murder you. He blinked at you innocently, gun lowered to his side.
“Nothin’ personal, sweetheart.” he said, this time the fake voice he had kept up shattered completely. “Orders are orders, you’d understand.”
Your jaw clenched. No, no you would not understand.
“Konshu is making you do this?” He rolled his eyes at you.
“Who else?”
“Who else? I - why the hell,” you didn’t know what to say to that. Konshu wanted you dead? Since when? “Who even are you?” you managed to get out, trying to gain some semblance of control back. A smug smirk came over his face.
“¿Que? I’m Marc Spector,” he taunted you, knowing full well that you knew he was not Marc Spector. Not in the slightest.
You ground your teeth, shooting a glance at the Egyptian god over near the bed. He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes trained on the window.
“Shu?” you hissed, no longer bothering to hide the fact you were talking to him. Not Marc Spector raised a brow. “What is it?” The god looked over at you quickly, his eyes darting between you and not Marc. His eyes flared with golden light.
Shaytan.
A cold wave flowed through you at the word. The scrunched up, concerned look on your face did not go unnoticed by the imposter opposite you.
“Wow, you’re loco. I’m probably doing the boys a favour gettin’ rid of you.”
You tried to ignore his words, but the sheer malice of what he was saying caused an involuntary reaction. You whipped your head back to him, an accusatory finger pointed in his direction.
“Shut your mouth, dimwit. You must think this is a real joke, huh? Shaytan - it’s a demon! You need to back off, now, because something really, really bad is going on.”
All you received was a flat, deadpan look.
“Okay, I’ve entertained this long enough. No hard feelings, loca.” As he spoke, he tucked his gun into the sweatpants Marc had been wearing, head tilting back a little. You watched as he closed his eyes and then…nothing happened. The silence was prominent when he peeked one eye open, lips pulling down. His fists clenched by his side but still, everything stayed the same. You could’ve laughed.
“Having a problem there, estúpido?” you mocked. He glared at you, mumbling something under his breath. Then too, he looked towards the window, completely disregarding you.
“Aye, where’s the suit?” he said. You looked at the blank space that he was talking to, glancing at Shu who had come up next to you. He rested a glowing palm on your head.
Look.
You had to stop yourself from screaming as the light flooded your mind, opening up your conscience to the world beyond. By the window, ghoulish form trembling and heaving, you witnessed the creature Shu claimed was the ‘Shaytan’. Long pale limbs, glowing silver orbs for eyes and a body that resembled a starved, withering corpse. It was definitely not Konshu. Your stare wavered to where not Marc was speaking to him, confusion washing over you.
He only sees Konshu standing there.
Shu’s words made you frown.
That’s what those Shaytan do. They hide their true form, encapture gods and feed on the vulnerable souls of well…avatars.
“Are you saying that thing wants to eat my soul?” The horror on your face doubled. “Wait, are you saying that it’s also gonna eat Marc and Steven’s soul?”
Shu grimaced.
It looks hungry, little one. You should probably run.
“What!?” You almost screamed. Just then, the haunting eyes of the creature locked onto you. Your heart dropped to your feet. “Do something!” you hissed at your god, “get rid of it!” The awkward laugh booming in your head was not reassuring. At the same time, not Marc met eyes with you, determination ever-present on his face. Great, just what you needed. One horrifying monster and one murderous psycho. Amazing.
See, that’s not really my area of expertise. We need the moon god, he has more experience with those things.
Slowly, you began to back away, spear clutched in a death grip. “Are you kidding me? Where is he then?”
Like I said, they encapture gods. Konshu is probably fighting his way back from the underworld right now. Don’t fret though, I’m sure you will be alright. If you…if you leave. Right now. Um.
You were already running, floorboards thudding beneath you as you skidded down the hall towards the front door. When you glanced back, you noticed that your god had completely vanished, probably not wanting to be the next one on this demon's hit-list.
“You’re the lousiest god I know, Shu! I swear to - OOF!”
As you reached for the silver knob, something heavy came barraging into you from behind. Your back throbbed at the harsh contact. As soon as you hit the ground, you twisted your body - expecting to come face to face with the psycho occupying Marc's body. You wanted to cry when you realised that it was not the psycho, but rather the soul-hungry boogeyman that was trying to rip you to shreds. Its paper skin rippled as it leant towards you, mouth opening into a deep, black hole. As soon as you saw the pink tendrils that slithered out from that darkness, you knew you’d be having nightmares for at least a year after this.
Beyond him, the moon gods' avatar came screeching to a halt, his eyebrow drawing together at what he was watching.
“Konshu?” he asked in that thick american accent of his. If it weren’t for the fact you were about to get your soul sucked from your body, you would have shouted at the man for being so stupid. The creature huffed above you, a low howling sound echoing from its skinless lips. “Right…” not Marc responded. You could barely believe what you were seeing and hearing. He really believed this was Konshu, didn’t he? You almost felt bad for the man for being tricked by this demon. Almost.
Those tendrils got closer and closer. It was only when they were a hair's breadth away from your face did they stop. You inhaled noisily, trying to escape the grip of this thing. But even when you managed to pull a hand free and swing your spear haphazardly, it simply passed through it like a cloud, having zero effect. The Shaytan didn’t like that, growling and snarling in your face. You turned white as a ghost.
Holy hell. You were going to die.
A dark shadow fell over your head and you were barely able to make out Shu above the demon's head. The tendrils tickled your nose and you had to contain a shout.
“Do something,” you whispered through clenched teeth. “Shu, don’t you dare let me die to this thing.” Your eyes fluttered in uncontained fear as you felt it latch onto you with those tentacle things. It’s heaving, rough breaths amplifying as it tugged at your skin. “Shu!”
To your utter relief, the Egyptian God actually did do something. His hand, decorated in sapphire jewels and dark beads, reached out in front of him, some sort of ancient Egyptian chant leaving his lips. You could just make out the ankh held firmly in his other hand. As the words spilled out, the Shaytan began to thrash, angry howls filling your ears. Even so, it didn’t disconnect from you. You were beginning to feel dizzy, a tiredness taking over your body. It was like the feeling of running nonstop for hours and finally passing out from dehydration. Except you weren’t just passing out, your very mind and being was being pulled from you.
“Shu,” you rasped desperately. His chanting stopped.
Nothing’s working, little mortal. I’m sorry but there’s not much else I can think to do.
You’re giving up on me? You wanted to yell. After everything you’d done for him, how loyally you had served him all these years, he was just going to let you die? You had never felt so angry in your life. Not to mention this whole thing with not Marc; how long had he been hiding from Steven and Marc? How long had he watched the three of you living a content life and decided ‘right, I’ll just kill her and it’ll be no big deal’? You wanted to punch him in his stupidly handsome face, not just to quell your own anger but for the other two men who had to share a body with him. You couldn’t imagine how he could try to hurt you so nonchalantly. He really was a psychopath.
Dark spots clouded your vision, the anger swelling inside of you becoming mute as you could no longer keep fighting back. It was done. You were done. What a miserable fucking way to go out.
Through the dark haze, you heard a distant voice, a familiar yet unfamiliar one, a loud yet quiet one. Booming. Reprimanding. Godly?
- you are certainly reaching old age, you dumb little man. What god doesn’t know how to deal with a Shaytan in this day and age?
Pressure seemed to suddenly vanish from your chest, the growing exhaustion in your body coming to a still. That voice…that voice.
Konshu?
Jake Lockley, you must be under the influence of the other two’s stupidity. By what order would I be sending you to kill her? Astonishing. Truly.
Slowly, the world came back into focus, your eyes straining to look up at the wooden ceiling above you. The Shaytan was gone.
Thank fucking lord.
The towering figure of your god presided over you instead, a grim set to his lips. You shot him the nastiest look you could manage in your half-conscious state.
Forgive me, little mortal. Konshu arrived and he saved you from your imminent end. No need to be bitter.
You coughed, throat dry, before turning over onto your hands and knees, whole body aching painfully.
“No need to be bitter?” you sputtered, leaning on the wall as you tried to stand. “You were going to let me die,” you hissed.
I tried!
“You didn’t try hard enough, you big, dumb god!”
That’s not very nice.
You growled, turning back towards the apartment where a certain Moon God now stood with his avatar. Your furious gaze settled on ‘Jake Lockley’.
“You gonna apologise now, you fool?”
Jake’s dark eyes settled on you, his shoulders lifting in a half-shrug. Now that you were looking at the real him, you could make out every little thing that made him distinctively different from Marc and Steven. From the posture to the look in his eyes.
“You can’t really blame me for all that,” he said. Konshu made an annoyed noise at his side. When you looked at the Moon God, he made another frustrated sound.
It’s not my fault that I chose a dumb avatar, little girl.
Your lips pursed.
Meet Jake Lockley, the third and last one inside your partner's head. My real Moon Knight.
You looked back at Jake, hands settling on your hips as you regained your bearings. Everything that just went down flashed through your mind, a crease forming on your forehead. Tonight was supposed to have been a nice night-in with Marc, but this…this?
“You and I have a lot to talk about, Jake Lockley,” you scowled.
Summary | Weeks after your near-death experience, you are slowly recovering when you run into Iguro and Mitsuri. Will you finally realise your true feelings? Or in which you stop being a goofy ass.
a/n | ya'll thought I wouldn't do it. but here i am. i posted it. I'M SO SORRY.
part one | part two
── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──
“Come on, princesses. My grandma can run faster than that – and she’s dead!”
Shinobu shot you an amused glance from across the room as you sat in your wheelchair, watching as the three boys ran their seventy-fifth lap. You grinned, averting your gaze as the blondie ran past, wide circle eyes staring at you desperately.
“Pleaseee, I can’t take – “
“Agatsuma!” Shinobu barked, “Thirty more laps and you’re done for today. Now shut up and get running!”
You giggled behind your hand. Ever since the incident, you had become prone to spending your days either sitting aimlessly in your room or watching the younger members of the corps train. Clearly, with both of your legs in casts and your torso swallowed in bandages, there weren't a whole lot of options. Because of this, you had been begging Shinobu to give you a couple of wood crutches; that way you could at least get around the mansion a bit easier. Alas, she had refused your request every time.
The woman in question made her way across the training space towards you, lips quirked up mischievously. As she came to a stop beside you, one of her hands came down to clasp your shoulder .
“Honestly, do you have anything better to do than distract these three?” she said, watching the boys. You cast her a long look, eyes narrowing.
“Don’t know if you noticed, Kocho…but I'm kind of crippled here. Not much else I can do.”
The insect hashira laughed at that, waving you off.
“How many times have I told you that your legs will be healed and fine in no time, hm? Trust me, you’ll be off fighting upper moons again before you know it.”
You grumbled at that, reclining further back in the wooden wheelchair.
“No thanks.”
At your words, Shinobu quirked a brow, turning to face you fully. “No? You’re not thinking of retiring are you?” The both of you sat in silence for a moment, her brows furrowing further as you refused to answer. “Hey…I mean I know you nearly died and all that, but it’s just a little hiccup in the road – like I said, you’ll be fine in a couple of weeks; it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”
You let her assurance hang for a moment, a sigh leaving your lips as you thought about your reply.
“I’m tired, Shinobu. This life, this…” you struggled to voice your feelings. “Women our age are married. They have families. We’re out here cutting the heads off of demons and watching as ambitious teenagers are sent off to be killed on missions. And - and to what end, really?”
She pondered your words, a frown now tugging her lips downwards. When she finally spoke, she had averted her gaze to the jogging boys.
“Since the accident…sometimes you don’t sound like yourself.” she shot you a quick look, trying to gauge your reaction. “You know why we fight. You know why we lay down our lives. We save people. We work endlessly towards stopping Muzan. That’s the end goal and you know it.” Her words trailed off. On the other side of the matts, the trio began slowing down. “You know what Kanae told me, when she was still alive? She said that just because we’re demon slayers - just because we’re cursed with this miserable life, it doesn’t mean we can’t love. It doesn’t mean we can’t have a family.” A large crease appeared in her forehead. She turned her stare back to you, determination prominent in her eyes. “So, you need to stop acting sorry for yourself. People die, people get hurt. Tough luck, suck it up. I don’t know what happened that day or what went down between the three of you, but sitting here, acting like you’re gonna quit the corps? It’s dumb. You can be happy. You can be that woman who’s married and has a family - but you’re just choosing not to, you’re scared.”
A heavy feeling gurgled in your gut. You didn’t want to admit it, but Shinobu was right. You were scared, and you were acting pathetic because of it. The thought was confronting.
All the words that you had exchanged with Iguro and Mitsuri rushed back to you. The fear of death - the pain of never having lived a fulfilling, happy life…it had overwhelmed you. And as a result, you had pushed away some of the only people who truly cared for you. The people you loved.
It made you want to crawl into a dark cave and never come out.
Maybe that had been your last chance. Your only chance. Iguro and Mitsuri probably thought you were a big tantrum-throwing baby who couldn’t handle her emotions. They probably thought you hated them. And if there was one thing you knew for sure in this terrible world - it was that you definitely did not hate them. Not a single piece of your broken, banged up body hated them. Lord, even when Iguro had made you turn red from anger - you didn’t hate him. And Mitsuri, who could ever hate her? She was the sweetest, love stricken person you had ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on. Now though…now they probably hate you, if anything.
The thought had you clenching your fists tightly on the arms of your chair.
Shinobu looked at you with a knowing smile, opening her mouth to speak. Before she could, three panting boys stumbled up to the pair of you, tongues lolling out of mouths and sweat sticking their hair to their heads like a second skin.
Quickly, you righted the frown on your face.
“Done for today?” you asked. It was Tanjiro who answered, a beaming grin on his face despite the harrowing breaths leaving his lips.
“Yup, all done! Thank you for today's training, Kocho-Sama!” he directed his next words at you. “Would you like to go back to your room? I can take you!”
You contemplated for a second, eyes glancing between the three demon slayers in front of you.
“Actually, I was going to go out to the garden for a while. Get some fresh air. Thank you though, Tanjiro.” The maroon-haired boy smiled in response. On his left, Inosuke was rocking impatiently on his feet, whilst Zenitsu practically fell asleep standing up. Next to you, Shinobu shook her head at the younger boys with raised brows.
“Same time tomorrow, don’t be late.” Her command was met with instant agreement. Zenitsu even stopped blowing snot bubbles for a second to answer. Your laughter was cut short when she turned her gaze to you. “And you, we’re gonna have a real long chat tomorrow, so I better see your ass here as well.” she regarded you with a stern look. “Maybe I can even get you to start exercising your legs a little so you’re not so useless…”
Your offended look did not go unnoticed as she sauntered out of the room, waggling her fingers goodbye. You couldn’t help but mutter to yourself angrily.
“I’m still a Hashira too, y’know.”
~
A couple minutes later you found yourself being pushed down a long hallway. Despite your insistence to Tanjiro that you could make your way to the garden by yourself, he wouldn’t let up. So now, to your absolute chagrin, you were being accompanied by a boar who was jumping off the walls, a babbling baby who was trying to fall asleep in your lap and a kind, but obsessive boy who was pushing your wheelchair like his life depended on it.
For the eighth time, you pushed Zenitsu’s wobbling form away from you.
“You’re not sleeping on me, Agatsuma. Don’t even try.” He whined but backed off a little, stomping grumpily down the hall next to you. Behind you, Tanjiro was humming something to himself cheerily. A little ways ahead, Inosuke was trying to fight with a random Kakushi.
You had little doubt that the look on your face was pure exhaustion.
The Kakushi currently getting harassed began sprinting down the hall past the rest of you, Inosuke hot on his tail. You rolled your eyes, opening your mouth to say something but deciding against it. As they passed, at the last minute you decided to stick your arm out. The Kakushi bypassed it unscathed, but Inosuke, with no awareness of his surroundings, ran right into your protruding limb, the force of the impact sending him sprawling backwards. In an instant, the Kakushi disappeared around the corner. The edges of your lips tilted up. Before you could blink, Inosuke was back up on his feet; boar eyes seemingly piercing into your soul and nostrils flaring with misty breath. You rubbed at the fading pain in your arm and stared back at him blankly. The entrance to the garden was only ten or so metres away, but Tanjiro tastefully chose this time to stop pushing you.
“Why’d you do that?” The feral boy growled out behind his mask, slinking closer. It was almost as if he was…trying to intimidate you? Tanjiro’s voice came over the top of your head.
“Um, Inosuke…she was just trying to help.”
He ignored that, coming right up to your prone form and leaning down into your personal bubble. The ends of his mask tickled your face. You coughed in response, trying to hide the fact you were about to burst out laughing.
“Inosuke!” Tanjiro admonished like a mother.
Before you could make a snarky remark at the animal-esque boy, two scrawny arms were pulling Inosuke away from you. You watched in confusion as Zenitsu restrained the trembling boar for a moment, his chin wiggling in fear.
“Stop!” Zenitsu cried out. “She did nothing wrong, you crazy buffoon!” Inosuke roared, shoving an elbow into his friend's face and breaking free from his grip. Red instantly began to stream from the lightning user’s nose like a broken faucet.
“Eh!? The hell you think you’re doing, Monitsu?!”
You nearly smiled at the defiant look in Zenitsu’s eyes as Inosuke set his sights on him. Key word being nearly. What he said next diminished any admiration you held for him.
“You can’t hit a girl, you psycho! Especially not one of my future wives!” your gaze narrowed instantly. “You’ll marr her lovely skin!”
“You’re a literal child,” you grumbled to yourself, going unheard by the rest of the boys. As you watched them bicker, all you could do was groan, leaning your head back to look at Tanjiro. He seemed to read something on your face as he stepped out from behind you to interfere. As he did so, you slapped a hand to your head in exasperation. You had wanted him to get you out of there, not make you stay around to watch these two bicker and fight.
As Tanjiro began trying to deescalate the situation, the hallway somehow became louder with more shouting and arguing. Now, the hall was consumed by yelling teenage boys threatening to beat eachother up. And here you thought you were having a good day.
You peered at the three, wondering if you should stop them as they began to tussle.
It only took you a second to decide. Nah, not your problem.
Reaching for your wheels, you began trying to navigate around the boys to get to the door. The wood of your wheelchair groaned as it slowly made its way across the floor towards the threshold. You passed the fighting group without a glance, readjusting your uniform nonchalantly. Your feet were practically in the sun as you reached the outside door. A gentle draft was coming in from the patio and you let yourself smile a little, rearing to get across the door frame.
Right before you could pop a wheelie and haul yourself across the little cylinder trimming blocking the entrance, a low voice echoed down the hall behind you.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Your spine instantly tensed, and you paused mid-action to whip your head around. Your heart freaked for a moment, thinking the voice was directed at you. Though when you assessed the sight behind you, you realised that - that wasn’t the case.
At the end of the hallway, where the four of you had come from, stood Iguro. His steely eyes were trained on Tanjiro, Inosuke and Zenitsu. At the Serpent Hashira’s question, the hall became deathly silent in a second.
You kept very quiet; he hadn’t noticed you there yet. Your eyes darted between the garden and the three boys who looked like they had been caught stealing. Breath caught in your throat, you were about to make a sneaky exit when Iguro began talking again.
“Seriously. How old are you? What’re your names? I’ll report you for insolence in a Hashira’s residence.” He scoffed, eyes roving the boys in boredom. You pursed your lips, looking once more at the boys who had grown extremely still. Reflexively, your gaze wandered back to Iguro.
When no one responded, the raven-haired male began stalking forward, his checkered haori swaying around him.
“Hm, so? Don’t wanna talk?” he cracked his knuckles creepily, Kabumararu coiling over his shoulders. “That’s fine. I'll make you talk.”
You had to forcibly stop yourself from rolling your eyes at his stupid threat. However, when you looked back to the boys, you realised they didn’t share quite the same amusement as you.
Zenitsu was sporting the typical deer-caught-in-headlights look, with big, wet tears starting to form. Instead of hitting Inosuke, he was now clutching onto him tightly, using him as a meatshield from the imposing Hashira. Inosuke himself had completely tensed up and you couldn’t quite tell if he was getting ready to try to fight Iguro or run away from him. Besides them, Tanjiro was looking awfully guilty. He, at least, seemed sort of alright with the confrontation.
You were now faced with a choice: slip out the door and leave these three to their possible demise or step in and tell Iguro to relax…One of the options was certainly looking better than the other.
Even so, you weren’t completely cruel and you were kind of the reason that this had happened in the first place.
You sighed, slowly pushing yourself backwards into the hall. The rolling of your wheelchair instantly caught everyone's attention and you cleared your throat awkwardly. As you came to a slow stop, you raised your gaze to meet Iguro’s. Before you could say anything, Zenitsu called out to you in what he must have thought was a quiet voice, his form trembling now.
“Hey, hey! Help us, please. Please!”
Now it was him everyone was looking at. His throat bobbed as he gulped deeply, shrinking under the scrutinising glare of the older man in the room. He shot one last desperate look in your direction.
You couldn’t help but sigh once again, cracking your neck and squaring your shoulders.
“Alright, Obanai. I think you’ve scared them enough.”
The boys sagged in relief. Iguro averted his stare back to you and you witnessed how his eyes seemed to soften as they took you in. Though it was totally a trick of the light, you told yourself. Surely you didn’t look very pretty, all dinged up and useless in a wheelchair. Despite this, Iguro changed his course of trajectory, walking towards you. The boys watched on fearfully, thinking you had pissed him off. You didn’t blame them, because you also thought you had pissed him off.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
As he came closer, you noticed the slight limp in his step and the numerous cuts torn across his face. There were some rips in his haori and a stain on his bandages that resembled blood. You raised an eyebrow. Before you could remark on it, he had stopped a few feet in front of you, eyes devoid of any emotion.
“You look better.”
There was an awkward silence. You glanced behind Iguro to where the trio seemed to contemplate their escape. Something that felt awfully similar to sweat pooled in your palms. You should say thanks, right? Right. What came out though was definitely not a thanks.
“You look like shit.” Instantly, you clapped a hand over your mouth, eyes widening. That was not what you meant to say. What the hell was wrong with you? Quickly, you held up your hands placatingly, “No, no - I didn’t mean. I mean - you look fine. You must have just got back from a mission? Yeah, you did…it’s uh. It’s fine. Wait, I mean - “ you tripped over your words, only to stop when a low chuckle reached your ears. You went completely silent when you looked up to see Iguro regarding you fondly, a warmness starting to blossom in your cheeks.
“Mitsuri and I just got done with a mission. We, “ he glanced back at the eavesdropping boys, “We were going after it. The upper moon.”
Your eyes widened slightly at his words, a heavy silence now basking the hall.
“Oh.”
Iguro laughed again, shoulders shrugging.
“It was a trap though. We barely made it out…” his words trailed off. Your heart hammered so hard, you thought it might re-break your ribs.
“But - but you’re okay, right? I mean, where’s Mitsuri? She’s alright?” It was hard to hide the nervousness in your voice. Iguro seemed surprised but he quickly hid it, nodding his head.
“She’s fine. A little battered up as well, but fine. She should - ”
As if she was summoned, Mitsuri pranced around the corner, her pink locks flying behind her. She came to a stop as she regarded the crowded hall curiously.
“Oh! Hi everybody?” If the boys weren’t relaxed before, they certainly were now. With two other Hashiras around, they were decidedly protected from Iguro’s wrath. It was Tanjiro who greeted her back, waving a hand. She smiled sweetly, eyes wandering towards Iguro and ultimately landing on you. Her smile flickered for a second, shoulders seeming to curl the slightest bit.
“Oh,” she whispered this time. “Hi.” Unsure of what her body language meant, you smiled hesitantly back at her.
“Hey, Suri’...”
At the nickname, something in her eyes flared and suddenly she was skipping down the hall towards you and Iguro. As she passed by the boys, one of her hands reached out to pat Zenitsu on the head. Lovehearts literally shone in his eyes.
“Honey!” she cooed as she reached you. It was as if nothing had happened between you two as she grabbed your face with one hand, angling it up and down. She hummed under her breath. “Well, you’ve certainly healed well!” she stared at you with a soft, simpering smile - almost as if begging you not to push her away again. You didn’t. Rather, you laughed quietly, cupping the hand that was now resting on your cheek.
“Yeah…we all know Shinobu’s medicine works wonders. Don’t tell her I said that, though.” Mitsuri grinned at that, taking a step back. As she did, your eyes were drawn to the bandages peeking out from beneath her uniform. “Are you alright?” you asked her without missing a beat. She followed your gaze, then looked at Iguro sceptically. He nodded back at her.
“I’m okay, it’s just a cut. Um…” she looked at Iguro a second time, displeasure now causing her nose to scrunch. When she looked back at you, it became glaringly obvious that she was nervous.
“What, Suri’?” you asked. Her cheeks grew a little bit pink.
“It’s just that…I’m sorry. We went on that mission to take down the upper moon and failed. I - I know it meant a lot to you.” The smile on your face quickly vanished, but not for the reason Mitsuri seemed to think. As she raised her hands to apologise again, you interrupted.
“You’re sorry? Mitsuri no, you don’t need to apologise to me. I know how I reacted a couple weeks ago but I don’t - y’know, I don’t actually care. I mean, you don’t owe me anything…”
Her head tilted to the side, a pout coming onto her face. Iguro spoke up.
“You don’t…care? We’ve been away for weeks hunting that demon for you because we thought…we - “ Iguro paused, looking over at the trio of boys still listening to your conversation. “Maybe we should go somewhere a little more private.” Mitsuri nodded her agreement.
“No.” You all paused, staring at Zenitsu as he announced himself in a meek voice. Iguro in particular, stared hauntingly at him. This was enough for the blonde to cower back, looking to his friends for help. Indeed, Tanjiro came to his aid.
“No, he’s right. We were taking her to the garden before you interrupted. You can’t just take her away when she doesn’t wanna go!”
You blinked at Tanjiro repeatedly, trying to process his words. When you did, you nearly cried in exasperation. These kids were crazy. You went to explain, but was stopped by Iguro as he took a step towards the boys.
“Are you trying to say we can’t talk to our girl in private?” he asked darkly. Tanjiro paled but didn’t back down. Zenitsu, on the other hand, completely hid himself behind Inosuke. (Though you were pretty sure that Inosuke had fallen asleep at some point in all of this).
Mitsuri and you exchanged a look.
“Stop it, Iguro.” you groaned. “And Zenitsu, Tanjiro - for god's sake, I am going on my own free will. No one is making me do anything. Just go back to your room or something!” you snapped at them. For the first time since you had met, the boys seemed to remember that you were a Hashira, which meant you could look after yourself. It also meant that you were undoubtedly capable of dismembering them if they got on your nerves…which they had, many times before this. Their eyes widened but they nodded, scurrying off down the hall. You watched them go, casting a look at the now snoring Inosuke still standing there.
“Should we wake him?” Mitsuri pondered.
“No.” Iguro retorted, reaching towards you.
“What’re you doin - Yah!” All of a sudden you had left the discomforts of your wheelchair and were dangling idly in the air. With your legs useless, you couldn’t do much but glare at the Serpent Hashira. He peered down at you, shrugging.
“Easier to move you around this way.” he said simply. Next to you, Mitsuri giggled.
You had no choice but to accept it, grumbling to yourself as you tried to hide the slight flush creeping up your neck.
~
Outside, the sun was high in the sky. The sound of birds and running water echoed from the forest beyond the garden walls.
Mitsuri had directed the three of you towards a large oak, where you now sat in the cool shade. You had propped yourself up against the trunk, Iguro to your right and Mitsuri laying on her tummy in front of you two.
You all sat in silence, watching the calm scenery pass you by. Iguro’s head flopped back against the bark, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. Mitsuri yawned, legs kicking up behind her as she stretched out her arms. You just sat and watched, eyebrows drawn as you thought about what to say. Were you supposed to ignore what had happened three weeks ago? Were you guys just hanging out as friends now? Iguro had started saying something back inside but maybe he didn’t want to talk about it…
Your lips pursed.
Before you could dive deeper into your lair of doubt and confusion, a loud chatter caught your attention. All of you watched as a small group of demon slayers stumbled through the garden gates and made their way toward the mansion. As they joked around with each other, your eyes caught on their nichirin blades, shimmering like glitter in the sun. Your finger twitched beside you.
Your katana was long gone. After it had snapped into two on the mountain, it served you no purpose. Because of this, you had been blade-less ever since you woke up. Though Shinobu promised you that your swordsmith would bring you a new blade any day now, you were beginning to think she was lying to you to keep your spirits high. If you had it your way, you would’ve gone to the swordsmith village by now and re-equipped yourself; but no, apparently that wasn’t an option according to the Insect Hashira. Despite your argument that you could heal fine at the village and not have to worry about demons, you were ‘not permitted to leave the butterfly mansion until approved by a senior doctor.’ AKA, until Shinobu Kocho stopped being the bane of your existence.
Mitsuri followed your gaze, looking back at you with a small smile.
“You must really wanna get back out there after being cooped up in here the last couple’a weeks, huh?”
You shrugged noncommittally, eyes falling away from the blade as the slayers made their way inside.
“I suppose so,” you hummed, fingers tugging at the grass absentmindedly. Iguro grumbled from your right.
“Well I don’t want to fight another demon for the next fifty years after that last fight. Fuckin’ hell.”
MItsuri laughed, swatting at his leg playfully. At the same time, she nodded her head.
“It was…” she chuckled softly. “It was a lot.”
As you observed her a bit closer, you saw the dark shadows under her eyes and the purplish-blue where a bruise was beginning to form on her cheek. The numerous cuts littering her face was giving way to the warm swelling beneath. Glancing besides you, you noted that the same could be said for Iguro. Hot glue stuck your throat closed as you shut your eyes briefly. This was your fault.
“I’m sorry.” You spoke quietly. “You didn’t have to…I mean, you didn’t need to go after the upper moon. I - I’m sorry.” You couldn’t think of what else to say but apologise. You were the reason they had come home looking like crap. You were the reason they were probably aching all over right now. You. It was you.
“Shuddup,” Iguro suddenly barked, peering over at you. You stopped yourself from jolting at his unexpected demand.
“I-”
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but we went after that upper moon on Ubayashiki’s orders. It had nothin’ to do with you.”
Your eyes widened, lips opening and closing as you tried to find the words to respond.
“Iguro!” Mitsuri groaned, one hand slapping her forehead. Like you, she gaped for a second as she tried to find the right words to say.
“What? I’m just telling the truth.” He said calmly. Mitsuri glowered at him, one finger rising up to point at him menacingly.
“That is not the tru-” her eyes lit up with a sudden realisation. “You’re just grumpy because that demon called you ugly!” she accused.
“Huh?!”
“Huh?”
Both you and Iguro spoke at the time, although Iguro was sounding a little more outraged at her words.
“The demon what?” your question fell on deaf ears.
“I am not grumpy about that!” Iguro defended himself instantly. Mitsuri responded back with equal fervour.
“You totally are! I told you you’re not ugly! Why are you still mad?!”
“I’m not!”
“You are!”
It took you a second to process the words being exchanged but once you did you could do nothing but clasp a hand over your mouth and stifle your giggles. Kaburamaru slithers over from Iguro’s shaking shoulders to perch on you grumpily. You reached your free hand up to stroke along his head gently, watching the two bicker.
It was only when Mitsuri’s wild eyes turned to you, did you realise that you should say something.
“You’re not ugly, Iguro.” You said, nudging the hashira next to you. The stream of words falling from his lips paused as he turned to look at you. “The demon was probably just trying to rile you up. In fact, you’re the least ugly guy I know.” you grinned easily at him and he seemed stunned for words. Mitsuri sighed dramatically, plopping back down into the grass with a huff. You bit your tongue to stop from laughing.
“That’s not true,” Iguro mumbled, head turning away from you. As you lose sight of his face, your face falls flat. Who knew that the Snake Hashira of all people would be so vain? Seeing the expression you bore, Mitsuri shook her hands at you, urging you to continue. You stuck your tongue out at her.
“Oh, Iguro ~ “ you murmur, hair falling in your face as you shake your head conspiratorially. “Really, you’re the most handsome guy I know. Don’t be such a baby about it, okay? It almost takes away from how stunning you are.”
You grin like a vixen when his head whips back towards you. With his face right in front of you, you can see the light dusting of red covering his cheeks.
“But I -”
“Oh good lord, Iguro!” you snapped playfully. “What is this? One of those cheesy love stories Mitsuri likes to read?” you ignore the yelped ‘hey’ from the bubblegum haired girl. “Don’t give me that bullcrap! I’ve literally seen you without your bandages and I still love you so what's the problem!?”
Your breath leaves you in pants as you contain a laugh. Iguro continues to stare at you, his pupils dilating. It isn’t until you turn to look at Mitsuri that you realise something is wrong. She’s gone silent, mouth dropped open.
“What? What did I say?” you ask hesitantly, glancing back at Iguro.
The squeals are all the warning you get before a solid force smashes into you. Slightly disoriented, you barely register Mitsuri wrapping around you like a toddler.
“I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!”
You groan, peeking one eye open to look at the Love Hashira. She’s already beaming down at you, hands cupping your face.
“I knew you loved us!” She rotates to talk to Iguro. “I told you she was just overwhelmed! I did!”
He goes to say something back at her but ends up just shaking his head. His bandages shift slightly upwards.
Listening to Mitsuri, what you just said dawns on you. Your face pales, lips parting slightly. Mitsuri catches the look on your face and jumps, about to clamber off of you. Before she can, you wrap a hand around her arm softly. Her face flushes but she stays where she is.
You wet your lips, trying to make sense of all the thoughts in your head.
“Hey,” Mitsuri whispers. “You know it’s okay if you didn’t mean to say that…I’m not trying to force you to confess your undying love for us if you don’t actually love us, y’know?”
You shoot a surprised look at her. “Huh? No! No that’s not it. I just…how? Why?”
“You're gonna have to be a bit more specific than that,” she giggles. The hold you have on her loosens slightly, your eyes casting towards the ground.
“How can you still love me? After what I said? How I pushed you away?” Tears hide behind your eyelids. “I was a total bitch. I mean, I thought you would never even talk to me again! I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Mitsuri looks away and you realise that she’s mouthing something at Iguro. Suddenly, there’s a hand gripping onto yours tightly.
“Stop apologising,” Iguro’s gruff voice comes from beside you. You realise it’s his hand that you’re holding. “Suri’ kept saying that you were just overwhelmed, that you didn’t mean what you said. I realise now that she was right.” You can’t stop the tears that dribble down your cheeks. Mitsuri’s hold on you tightens. “I mean, you nearly died that day and here we were announcing our love for you? What the hell is up with that?”
You choke on a laugh, fingers curling into the palm of his hand.
“What I’m trying to say,” Iguro mutters, somewhat embarrassed. “Is that if anyone should be sorry, it’s us. We pushed you too far and didn’t stop to consider how you may have felt. So…we’re sorry.”
Everything goes quiet, your quiet sniffling slowing down. Mitsuri leans back to smile at you.
“Can we just stop all this sad shit?” she laughs. You echo her, reaching up to wipe away the remaining water in your eyes.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” You.
“Please. No more of this emotional crap.” Iguro.
All three of you begin laughing in earnest now. All the drama and tears getting carried away by the gentle breeze that sweeps through the garden.
As you calm down, you notice the soft look on Mitsuri’s face. Her eyes dart down for a second, a pinkish hue colouring her cheeks.
Before you can question it, she’s pressing her lips to yours, hands gripping at your shirt tightly. It starts as quickly as it ends as she pulls back, eyes twinkling with stars.
“Too soon?” she giggles.
“Not soon enough,” you murmur, tugging her back towards you. Iguro’s firm grip on your hand keeps you safe and warm, reminding you that they were your family - your priority.
Summary | When your wizard boyfriend, Remus Lupin, comes over one weekend with his friends in tow, a growing tension seems to suffocate the house. You know he adores you but…what about his friends? (Reader is a full-blown muggle in this)
Part 1/2 ♡
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Sunshine seared through the kitchen window, casting a light glow around the room as you worked away at making lunch.
Outside, you could hear James and Sirius’ quiet chatter as they played around with a ball. (A ‘quaffle’, Remus told you.) You snorted at that, layering cheese on top of ham. Craning your neck, you observed Remus through the kitchen door as he wrote something down on parchment in the living room. His face was scrunched up, one hand tapping repeatedly on the oak coffee table.
“Take a break, Rem. It is the weekend, y’know?” You called, turning back to the task at hand. Behind you, you listened as he murmured something incoherent, brushing off your words. You rolled your eyes but let him be for the time being. As you turned to the fridge, you took notice of the wand now in his hands, your lips pulling down into a displeased frown.
“You better not be practising any spells,” you warned, opening up the fridge. “Don’t let me remind you what happened last time one of you boys tried doing magic in the house.” There was no reply and you sighed, hand dragging down your face in exasperation. “Seriously. I had to tell my parents that a raccoon got into the house!” This time there was quiet laughter and you grumbled, plucking the water jug from the fridge and turning back to the bench where a figure now stood, hands inching towards the uncut sandwiches.
“James!” You snapped. The brunette jumped, whipping around to face you. He smiled sheepishly, presenting his empty hands in an attempt of innocence.
These boys were going to turn your hair grey very soon.
The stare you had pinned him with wavered though, as your eyes drifted down to where he had shucked off his shirt. Sweat from their activities outside sheened across his muscles. Coughing, you quickly averted your gaze back to his face, not missing the sly grin that crept onto his lips. He opened his mouth as if to call you out, but you quickly spoke over him.
“Lunch is ready anyways. Get Sirius to come in.” You quirked a brow, “that is, if you’re finished playing with your broomsticks?”
That seemed to divert his attention as James narrowed his gaze at you.
“You say that like it's weird to use broomsticks for quidditch.”
It was your turn to grin. “I’m just saying, I use brooms for sweeping the floor. Actually, I’m in need of a new one…”
“Don’t you dare...” James started, looking quite scared at the prospect of his broom being used for sweeping. “...touch my broom. That cost me most of my savings!”
You only laughed, pushing past him to start plating up the food. James shook his head, walking back out the glass sliding door to call for Sirius. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched how his toned back muscles rippled as he made his way across the lawn. Feeling a heat blooming on your cheeks, you made quick work of cutting the sandwiches, putting them on a plate to take to the living room. You took one last glance out to the boys before turning on your heel and leaving the kitchen. Placing the plate onto the coffee table, you slumped onto the couch besides Remus, watching like an owl as he muttered words under his breath. When he clocked the way you were staring at him, he put his wand down, saying something along the lines of an apology as he reached for your hand. You let him grab it, savouring his strong grip.
“Thanks for lunch, hon’,” he smiled, pecking you on the cheek.
“Of course,” you said, reaching for his discarded papers on the table as he grabbed a cut of sandwich. He let you, eating quietly as your eyes roved the parchment paper. What Remus was writing about made absolutely no sense to you. Sometimes it stumped you how different your worlds really were. “A boggart?” you questioned, eyebrows furrowing. “That sounds terrifying. Why the hell would you study that in class?” The werewolf laughed but didn’t answer.
“Thank lord, I’m starving!” A certain raven haired boy groaned as he entered the room, followed closely by James. You glanced at them briefly, seeing that James had covered up again. Good.
Clearly having heard what you said, James looked at you inquisitively as he and Sirius plopped down on the opposite couch, the latter already starting to stuff his face with food.
“Why wouldn't we study boggarts? It’s a pretty basic unit at Hogwarts, everyone learns it.”
Next to you, Remus rolled his eyes but said nothing.
“Forgive me for thinking you studied normal things like Shakespeare and bloody Charles Darwin, James.”
This caused the two pure-blood wizards in the room to look at you like you were the weird one.
“Charles who?” Sirius spoke around a mouthful of bread. You waved him off, placing Remus’s papers down in exchange for his Cypress wand. The boys all eyed you warily as you mimicked casting spells with it.
“Careful love, or you’ll be the one damaging the house,” Remus laughed, nudging you with his shoulder. You scoffed.
“There’s about as much magic in me as there is in a dog, I don’t think I’ll do much.”
Sirius swallowed, pointing a finger at you.
“I’ll have you know -”
Not letting him finish, you aimed your wand straight at him.
“Abra cadabra!” you shouted.
Everything went quiet. You took in the look of horror on Jame’s face and the way Sirius turned as white as a ghost. Next to you, Remus’ shoulders were shaking as he tried to contain his laughter. Not understanding what the problem was, you shook the wand again, head tilting.
“Abra cadabra?”
Sirius looked like he was about to pass out.
“Remus!” James all but squeaked. “What have you been teaching her? How does she know that!” Remus couldn't hold back his laughter anymore. You frowned at James, discarding the wand back onto the table. Sirius visibly relaxed as you did so.
“Prongs, “ Remus managed to get out as he calmed down. “She’s not saying that. Abra cadabra, it’s like a thing that muggle magicians say for magic tricks.”
Both boys looked at each other but slowly nodded, accepting Remus’ words as the truth. Sirius perked up again, his lips were curled into a scowl but there was a lightness in his eyes that said he wasn’t truly angry.
“Never again,” he said firmly, eyes locked with yours. You stifled a giggle with your hands. What the problem with saying ‘abra cadabra’ was, you didn’t know. But it sure was funny.
“Telling me not to, really makes me want to,” you laughed. Before you could do anything, Remus wrapped a hand around your waist, pulling you into his side. He whispered into your ear.
“Stop terrorising the boys, you little monster.”
You pouted up at him but listened, relaxing into his hold. The room was quiet as you sat there, just watching the boys as they ate, exchanging small quips here and there. Remus asked if you were hungry but you just shook your head, urging them to pick the plate clean. For a second, everything felt normal. It was as if your boyfriend and his friends weren’t wizards who could do crazy feats with little sticks of wood.
Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear Sirius calling your name. Remus stroked your cheek and you startled, plastering a smile on your lips.
“Hm?”
Sirius grinned, glancing at the brunette besides him.
“Did you hear the news?” Sirius asked, to which you shook your head no. What news? His smile seemed to grow. “Jamesy here asked out his crush the other week. You know the one. Got rejected.”
Sirius cackled but you only stared, mouth falling to the ground. James grumbled something but you didn’t know what to say. Last you heard, James had really liked that girl. And he was rejected? Ouch. You went to say something, maybe comfort the poor boy, but he beat you to it, directing his next words at Remus.
“That was weeks ago. You didn’t tell her?” You looked up at Remus, also wondering why this had been the first you’d heard of it. His lips tugged up into a small smirk.
“Thought you’d wanna tell her yourself, Prongs?” Remus replied, directing a look at James. The bespectacled boy huffed, looking away.
“Why would I wanna do that, Moons?”
Remus half-shrugged and left it at that. An awkward silence coveted the room but you quickly broke it, trading looks with Sirius who was not so subtly urging you to say something.
“You alright, Jamesy? I know you liked her,” you murmured. He smiled tightly, not meeting anyone's eye.
“It’s alright, darlin’. Don’t think we would have worked out anyway,” he said softly, finally looking over at you. His smile became a little more genuine as he joked, “you’re the only girl I need in my life anyways, hey?”
You laughed, glancing between him and Sirius.
“You only see me on the weekends, not even. I’m sure you need a few more girls in your life to keep you going.” James didn’t reply as Sirius hummed noncommittally. Beside you, Remus chuckled. Your gaze instantly pierced him. “That does not apply to you, mister. If the boys tell me you were even looking at another girl…” you words trailed off, a quiet threat hanging in the air. You were joking, obviously. Well, half joking. He held up his hands in self-defence.
“He’d be an idiot to even breathe the same air as another girl when he’s got such a pretty dame waiting for him back home,” Sirius said, his tone completely serious. Laughing under your breath, you shook your head, trying to play off how flustered you got. Remus was grinning next to you.
“Trust me, Pads, I know.” There was a twinkle present in his eyes that hadn't been there a second ago and as he cast a look between the other two boys, you felt as though you were missing out on something important
Later that day, you were in your garden cutting back some overgrown bushes. Dinner had been at least an hour ago and the moon was settling into its place in the sky. Off in the distance, the sound of crashing waves and sleepy birds echoed into the night. Your eyes squinted as you concentrated on the thorn bush you were currently trimming. After being dormant over winter, the flower had suddenly started growing like crazy; its big, bushy leaves and prickly stems sprawling over your cobblestone footpath. Humming quietly to yourself, you glanced up to the guest-bedroom window on the second floor. The blinds were closed, but there was a visible silhouette moving about the room. The boys were all staying the night despite your insistence for them to get back to Hogwarts so that they could visit Hogsmeade tomorrow. In Remus’s words: ‘I’d rather spend a lifetime here with you instead of going to Hogsmeade’ and in Sirius’s: ‘I get free beer here, why would I wanna go somewhere where I have to pay?’ You rolled your eyes at the thought. Apparently you were some kind of booze supplier according to Sirius.
Focusing back on the roses, you used your clippers to snip off a cherry red flower, catching it in your hand as it dropped. You placed it next to you, using your free hands to help steady you as you got up off your haunches. As you turned to go to your veggie patch, a quiet ripping sound disturbed the peace, followed by your vigorous cursing as something scraped along your calf.
“Son-of-a-bitch!”
You peered down at your tattered pants, assessing the shallow cuts that now ran along your leg, dripping blood.
“You’re kidding,” you mumbled to yourself. Not only did you like these pants but now you had to go inside to disinfect a stupid cut. Grumbling to yourself, you picked up your gardening tools, heading along your garden path towards the back door. As you turned past a large cluster of blue and pink hydrangeas, you abruptly collided with a solid force, your equipment dropping to the ground. You yelped, feeling yourself approaching the ground before two steady hands secured you around the waist. When you glared up at the culprit, you were met with the sheepish face of Sirius Black.
“Sorry, bun’,” he spoke around the ciggy hanging from his lips. “Needed some fresh air, didn’t know you were here.”
You gave him a deadpan stare, gesturing at the cancer stick in his mouth.
“I feel like saying you need fresh air, then inhaling a bunch of toxic fumes kinda cancels each other out, Siri.” The raven haired boy shrugged, one hand lifting from your waist to pluck the stick from between his lips. You watched as he flicked it to the ground, grinding it into the rough path beneath his boot. When he made no movement to pick it up, you continued to stare blankly at him, eyebrows raising as the seconds passed. Finally catching your drift, he bent down to snatch it up, shoving it down a pocket in his pants. During this process, you became alarmingly aware of the large hand still wrapped around your side. You tried to ignore it, thinking that he’d just forgotten he’d grabbed you in the first place.
When he rose back up, two dark eyes looked at you expectantly. You couldn’t help the small smile gracing your lips as you thanked him quietly.
“Sometimes I forget you aren’t the only one who lives here,” he murmurs, hand giving you a quick squeeze. You startle, clearing your throat awkwardly. Before you can say anything, he continues to speak. “I know, I know. Your parents would kill you if they thought you were smokin’ and letting a coupla’ boys sleepover at your place all the time. For goodness sake though, who leaves their teenager alone for such long periods of time and expects them not to do those things?”
His little rant comes out of nowhere, but he definitely isn’t wrong. When you only purse your lips together, he sighs dramatically, black locks flying everywhere as he shakes his head.
“You know who? Muggles. That’s who. Ya’ little weirdos.”
In mock outrage, you push away from him, his hand finally releasing you as you do so. You waggle your finger at him.
“How very rude of you Mr. Black. How dare you insult my kind.” Sirius' lips pull up into a full smile of pearly whites.
“Quite on the contrary my dear. I happen to like your kind. Or well some of them.” He looks apprehensive for a second before adding, “Maybe just you.”
You pretend to growl at him, hands flying up as you turn away. “I will not tolerate this disrespect. Goodnight, witch!”
You can hear him sputtering behind you, but as you go to take a step towards the house, a hand is all of a sudden dragging you back. You turn back to Sirius, ready to bark some nonsense about wizards. You’re stopped short though as you see his focus stuck on your leg. His nose scrunches up, eyes slowly tracking up the rest of your body until they meet yours.
“You’re bleeding.” You open your mouth to explain but aren’t given the chance as he’s suddenly placing an arm around the back of your thighs and lifting you up bridal style. “Don’t worry, dear maiden, I shall save you!” He announces, already on the trek back to the house.
“Seriously?” You groan, one hand clutching the fabric of his button-up, and the other hanging loosely onto his shoulder. He smiles cheekily down at you, opening up the door to your house.
It’s quiet inside, the other boys evidently tucked away in their respective rooms. As Sirius crosses the threshold into the lounge, your arm reaches out, just barely grazing the light switch so that there’s some light. The light bulb flickers on as Sirius chucks you onto your russet brown couch, his hand reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wand. The second he takes a step forward, you place up a hand, not allowing him any closer.
“What do you think you’re doing?” You question, suspicious. He pouts at you, head tilting to the side.
“Fixing you?” He waggles his wand around like he’s about to cast some sort of spell on you.
“Um, no. No, you’re not. Go get some disinfectant and fix me like that. Otherwise, stay back.” The wizard purses his lips like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying, choosing to come closer anyways.
“Oi! I’m serious.” He looks back at you with a straight face.
“No, that's me. I’m Sirius…”
You blink. He blinks. You’re both just blinking at each other because oh my god that was so dumb.
Slowly, you go to pull yourself off the couch and get the disinfectant yourself. In return, Sirius points his wand at you.
“Hey, you trust me right?” He says. You look at him nervously, but reluctantly nod your head. “Good. I promise the spell won't hurt. It’ll close the cut and be like it was never even there, okay?” You frown at the gentle begging in his voice but sit back onto the couch anyway, pulling up your ruined pants to show him the full array of scratches. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Sirius. In fact, it wasn’t even because you were scared. Remus had used spells on you many times before (usually in ways that were, let’s say, pleasurable…) you just weren’t used to turning to magic to solve all your problems. Seeing your movement as an act of agreement, Sirius came a little closer. He tapped his wand gently against your leg and muttered something to himself quietly. Instantaneously, the scratches began to knit themselves back together, the only evidence of them ever existing being the small streaks of dried blood. You look away, trying not to hint at the fact that you thought what just happened was super cool; Sirius didn’t need his ego stroked.
When you turn your attention back to him, the dark haired wizard is already staring at you. His plush lips are parted slightly and it’s almost as if he’s gravitated closer to you in the short time you weren’t watching him. Neither of you say anything for a moment, quiet breathing filling the room. Then, Sirius leans towards you.
“You’re so gorgeous.” he whispers. He says it so quietly that you think he was talking to himself.
The close proximity causes a light flush to colour your cheeks and you smile gently at him. “I’d really like to. I mean -”
You don’t let him finish. Can’t. If he’s about to say what you think he is, then you need to stop this before he gets his heart broken.
“Sirius,” you murmur softly. His obsidian eyes drink you in. “I have a boyfriend, Siri. We can’t do this,“ you gesture between the both of you, “whatever this is.”
He visibly deflates, before realisation fills his eyes. He leans back, gathering distance between the two of you.
“Shit, sorry, shit. Yes, yes, I know. Sorry bun’, didn’t mean to try and come onto you like a creep. Um,” he’s rambling and avoiding your eye. Something in your chest pangs at the defeated puppy dog look he’s sporting. To save you both from the weirdness of whatever the hell that was, you get up to go to your room.
“Thank you for fixing me, Siri,” you say quietly, before leaving the lounge to hurriedly ascend the steps.
That was weird. Oh my god, did I just make it weirder? What's wrong with me? Oh heck.
You’re mentally scolding yourself, looking back downstairs to where the light in the lounge is still on. You nibble on your lip in contemplation, sliding silently into your room and clicking the door shut behind you.
Remus is laying under the covers, clearly asleep as his breath rises and falls in a steady rhythm. The frown on your face deepens. Am I meant to tell him? You think to yourself. I should. Tomorrow, you decide. I’ll get him alone tomorrow and tell him what happened.
Sighing deeply, you chuck on one of his shirts and get into bed, letting yourself cuddle up to him as you clench your eyes shut.
As you try to coax your mind into sleep, a thought hits you. Something was going on in this house. The weird looks, the flirtatious comments and now the thing with Sirius.
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Priority | Mitsuri Kanroji x Reader x Obanai Iguro
Word Count | 4.0k
Warnings | Mentions of blood ig. No spoilers. Mentions of Doma (ew.) ANGST i didn’t mean for it to be, but it is what it is. Tears. Drama.
Summary | After a mission goes wrong, you’re left to battle with something far worse than a demon: your emotions. Or in which Mitsuri and Obanai are kinda in love with you but you’re kinda broken.
part one | part two
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Your ribs trembled as you struggled to stay upright, each inhale more painful than the last. The wracking pain in your lungs gave way to the harrowing coughs leaving your lips as you wobbled precariously on your feet. The coppery tang of blood invaded your nose, ears ringing.
In front of you, the demon pranced about with his golden fans.
A particularly harsh cough burst forth from your throat, your hand gripping the nichirin sword in your grasp tighter as you propelled your feet forwards. Gotta keep moving. Can’t stop moving. The dewy grass beneath you turned to dust as you narrowly avoided another one of the demon’s attacks. You took a wide berth around the demon's form, trying to allow time for you to control your breathing. It became glaringly clear that this was no inconvenience for the monster.
“Now, now. Why put up such a fight?” The white-haired beast crooned, his eyes tracking your every move as you came to a stop, legs no longer able to fully support you. “If it’s any consolation, you’re not the first hashira I’ve killed. Oh no, far from the first. You know, you’re very pretty. It would be an honour to carry you with me for eternity…”
A crazed look crept onto the demon's face as you ground your teeth together, shaking your head to clear away the dark vignette bordering your vision. You ignored the throbbing pain in your ankle, forcing yourself not to stop. Every inch of you screamed for reprieve - begged for mercy. But you could not give in.
You had long since discarded your blood soaked haori, your sword was one strong blow from breaking and your vision was swimming with big black, ink-like blots.
You knew that one wrong move would spell the end.
Under the moon's guidance, you sought far into your soul, searching for a way to get out of this alive. Anything. From the deep nothingness of your mind popped a face, much like your own.
“My darling baby. Don’t stop. Never stop.” You blinked blearily at the person in front of you. Were you hallucinating? Is this what death felt like? Two warm hands cupped your cheeks, and suddenly you felt four years old again. “You need to snap out of it. You’re not going to die - not my girl. Not today.”
Your mothers voice was ringing in your ears. But as you went to grab for her, she vanished, leaving only the forest and carnage behind. A sob bubbled out of your mouth, wet tears dripping down your cheeks and mixing with your blood like some twisted painting. It had been too long since you had seen your family. Since they had…you vanquished the thought. You must have looked like a wreck as your gaze pinned onto the demon. His eyes widened in a childlike wonderment, his lips curling into a soft frown.
“Tears? Human emotion -”
You didn’t let him finish his monologue. Mustering all the strength left in your body, you darted forward, hair whipping everywhere as you recited the forms that you had said a thousand times before. A slicing pain came from your abdomen but you paid it no mind, just like the rest of the cuts and bruises now littering your body. You got closer and closer, each breath hurting like a jagged knife to the heart. But you didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. The final words of your twelfth form ripped from your lips and you barely registered as you swung your sword in an arc above your head. You were so close. The demon's neck was so close. From here, it would be like cutting cheese. It should’ve been like cutting cheese.
Solid force bashed against your sword, a loud metal THWANG echoing through the silent woods. Blood rained over you like a shower, hands shaking as you severed through the demon’s neck. The momentum drove you forward, and you were left stumbling onto your knees, head smashing against a rocky outcrop. Screaming was impossible, your throat felt so raw and stripped of skin that even muttering became impossible. Your body was on fire, burning you apart from your toes to your scalp. You couldn’t keep up your constant breathing anymore, lungs constricting rapidly inside your shuddering form. Something sharp poked inside of you. Maybe a broken rib or two or six. You could feel that your ankles were both broken, and your arms were like cooked ramen, floppy and useless.
The stars in the sky dimmed, or maybe that was just your vision slowly fading. Whatever it was, you welcomed the darkness. With the upper moon dead, you could resign yourself to death peacefully, knowing that you’d contributed to the efforts to defeat Muzan Kibitsuji. Or that’s what you thought.
“Oh my, you sure are stubborn.” Said a voice, breaking through the hazy cloud that had settled over your mind. “You nearly got me, you know? Pity that your sword couldn’t keep it up any longer.”
Terror hugged you like a ghost. He wasn’t dead. You hadn’t killed him. That sound…it had been your sword breaking. It didn’t make sense. You had felt the blood spraying your skin, had felt the sword cutting through his flesh. How…?
“Don’t be afraid, little one. You will live on through me. Or well, in me.” The demon was giggling to himself, his pants brushing against your corp uniform as you lay broken on the ground. You had lost. This was the end. All your efforts had been null. You should’ve known that you would never truly make it as a demon slayer. The only reason you had made it this far was luck. If the universe hadn’t been playing its stupid tricks, then you would have been massacred like the rest of your family.
Yeah, so much for being a Hashira.
Laying on the cold grass, you questioned how you had ever been strong enough to qualify as a pillar. To be considered ‘the best of the best’. What a load of crap.
You couldn’t feel your legs, or your arms. Something heavy was pressing against your back and suddenly your body was forced to its feet. The arms looped under yours were the only thing keeping you standing. As much as you wanted to fight, you physically couldn’t. Hours had already passed since the upper moon first arrived. What you first thought was a simple mission had escalated far more than you could ever imagine. It was only you and him; everyone else was dead or well on their way. Your heart cried for the junior members of the corps. They hadn’t stood a chance.
Dark. Everything was so dark. Sharp tingles of pain were creeping up your neck, your body felt like it was being moulded into something else.
Dark. The dark was here.
You couldn’t die like this.
Dark.
Tears were streaming down your face. Were they? Maybe you were just imagining it.
Cold.
You needed to fight. You needed to fight. You needed to fight.
Tired.
The most you could do was pry a single eye open.
Through your squinting vision, you saw the large white moon, so far away up in the sky. The trees whistled with the wind, swaying gently in your peripheral. The demon was elsewhere. Behind you? Was that what the pain radiating from your back was? Maybe. Maybe not. You didn’t know. Everything was numb. A voice whispered into the shell of your ear.
“I can hear your heart slowing down…you sure don’t wanna die, huh?”
You stared forwards, towards the trees. Was there someone there? What was that sound?
A warm hand clasped yours. You couldn’t see her, but you knew your mum had come back. And she was tugging, tugging. Tugging you away somewhere. You let your eye fall shut again, just wanting this to be over. Your mum was taking you home, everything would be okay.
No. Something muttered deep in the black depths of your mind. Look.
“I just want this to stop,” you tried to say back, but your vocal strings were fried, your life was slowly slipping from your grasp.
The voice came again, this time with a fiery barrage of anger.
Look.
So you did.
Your gaze narrow and shaky, you watched as a roaring snake blocked out the moon. And there was pink, pink everywhere. The pressure on your back suddenly disappeared and your body was left to tumble to the ground. This time, nothing could stop your descent into darkness.
“Mmh,” a groan rumbled in your chest. The ground was rapidly moving beneath you, your arms deadweight on your chest. You were floating - no, someone was carrying you. You tried to move your body, but the flaring pain immediately stopped you.
“We’re nearly there,” a quiet voice mumbled somewhere above you. If you weren’t in so much pain, you would have flinched at the sudden noise. Where were you? What was happening?
Peeking your eyes open, you managed to make out the mismatched coloured eyes of the man carrying you. Something silky slid along your neck.
You tried to say his name but failed, eyes blinking once, twice and then falling shut again as the darkness returned.
The next time you woke up, it was to a dimly lit room. A plush pillow was situated under your head and a soft blanket was draped loosely over your lower half. Your whole body ached like a buttcheek on a stick, that was for sure. When you tried to move your legs, nothing happened. Your eyes grew wide, but you winced, your skin feeling tender around your left eye. Huffing a breath, you wiggled your way so that you could sit upright, staring in horror at your legs. Were you…?
“Don't get ahead of yourself. Your legs are in casts for now, they’re just broken.”
Head whipping to the side, you saw Shinobu situated off to the side of your bed. You gaped like a fish, eyes darting between her and your unresponsive legs. A small smile covered her lips.
When you tried to speak, your mouth was too dry. You only managed to cough.
The Insect Hashira got the hint, picking up a glass of water from the bedside table. You took it graciously in trembling hands, gulping down the liquid like a dry sponge. It became clear that you were about to choke, and Shinobu did nothing as you did just that, water sputtering from your lips as you hacked up your lungs. When your coughing fit finally ended, you handed the glass back, slumping unceremoniously back onto the pillows. The room stayed silent for a moment, your heavy breathing occupying the space. You were in the Butterfly mansion, that much was clear. However, you didn't know how. The last thing you remember, you were on the cusp of death and hallucinating some wacky-ass snake covered in love hearts.
“How…” you rasped, making eye contact with Shinobu. “How’d I get here? Am I dead?”
Shinobu stifled a giggle into her haori, magenta hair flying around as she shook her head no. She smiled at you, getting up from her seated position.
“Well, Obanai and Mitsuri brought you back here. Poor girl was crying too much to explain what happened and you know how that damn Snake Hashira is.”
You narrowed your eyes, trying hard to remember the past events. As you did, Shinobu made her way to the door. You raised a brow in question, but she only smiled again and slipped out of the room, silence following in her wake. You groaned. So much for asking questions.
For the next couple of minutes, you dwelled on your thoughts, eyes slowly drooping shut. Just when you thought you would fall back asleep, the door to the room burst open. Loud yelling instantly invaded your ears.
“Yahhh! You’re awake, oh, you’re awake! Do you know how scared I was? Oh! You were bleeding everywhere and you wouldn’t respond when we were saying your name! I thought you were dead. I thought you…” You could only blink in shock at the love hashira. Her yelling quickly quieted down to sobs as she ran over to wrap her arms around your neck. Gargantuan tears rolled off her face and onto your prone form. “Never do that again, okay! When Obanai and I found you, we thought we were too late. Nyahh, why would you fight an upper moon demon alone you dummy!” The crying girl reached a new crescendo as she started yelling again, her voice causing a new throbbing to start up in the back of your head.
“Okay, ‘Suri. I’m alright,” you whispered, hoping to soothe her screaming. Two big green eyes stared at you for a moment, a steady stream of tears still rolling from them. She went to open her mouth again but you sighed, reaching a hand to stroke her bubblegum hair back from her face. A red tint now accompanied the wet stains on her cheeks. She bit her lip hard, eyes darting all over your face before she wailed one last time and slumped over you like a cat.
Internally, you cried at the pressure that she put on your ribs, but covered it with a small smile on your face.
“Oi, you’re hurting her.”
Mitsuri leaped off of you in an instant, hands covering her mouth. With her no longer obscuring your view of the room, you could see Obanai stood motionless in the doorway. He quietly entered, closing the door behind him. His dull eyes roved your form for a second, before settling on your face.
“How do you feel?”
You bit your lip to stop from saying how you really felt. That was, complete and utter shit. Instead, you managed a small grin, watching as he came to sit on the edge of the bed. Mitsuri followed, climbing up onto the sheets and snuggling up close.
“Fine. How long have I been out?”
Mitsuri hung onto your arm for dear life, and you watched as her bottom lip wobbled.
“Two weeks now. I didn’t know if you were ever gonna wake up.” She said sadly, burrowing her head into the nook of your neck. From the side of your eye, you watched as Obanai rolled his eyes at the girl's words. With your free hand, you patted the love hashira on the back, hoping it gave her some sense of comfort. Craning your neck to the side, you averted your stare back to the Serpent Hashira, knowing he’d at least answer some of your questions without bursting into tears.
“What happened back there? I mean, I thought I was dead for sure.” You ended your words with a small laugh, but he didn’t seem to find them very funny.
“When Kanroji and I arrived, that demon was absorbing you from behind.” That explained the numbness in your back. “You looked as good as dead, hell you were dead. But somehow we managed to ward him off long enough to grab you and get you back here.”
He stopped talking, gaze assessing the look on your face. At your prolonged silence, Mitsuri popped her head up to look at your expression. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“You didn’t kill it?” you asked slowly. Next to you, Mitsuri gulped. Obanai just looked at you. “You let it get away?” You insisted, neck cracking as you raised up onto your weak forearms. Mitsuri uttered words of warning but you ignored them, brows pulled tightly together. Your eyes flew between your fellow hashira, lips opening and closing in disbelief.
“That wasn’t the priority.” Obanai said simply. Your eyes focused on him. Besides you, Mitsuri hummed her agreement.
“Why?” you growled. “How was that not the priority? I fought that damn demon for hours. Okay? Hours. The two of you together could have beat him no problem, upper moon or not. And what, you just let it get away? This is our job! This is what we do! If we don’t kill these demons when we get the chance, how the hell are we supposed to ever stop Muzan, huh? Ubayashiki won’t be happy to hear this. I’m not happy to hear this!”
Mitsuri ducked her head, but Obanai’s gaze didn’t waver.
“Ubayashiki knows.”
You grit your teeth. “‘He knows’, that’s all you're gonna say? Why not explain your actions then! Explain why you let an upper moon get away when you were in the prime position to kill it!”
The raven haired man stayed silent this time, eyes finally falling to his lap.
But you weren’t done with this, no way. A heavy pressure bared down on your chest, stopping you from getting full lungfuls of air. All the pain did was remind you of what happened. Remind you that you nearly died. And for what? What did you almost die for, if the demon got away in the end? You said exactly this, watching as the two avoided meeting your eye.
“I swear to god,” you seethed. “You better tell me that you know where that demon went, or so help me…”
The silence gave you your answer.
Mitsuri sat up fully, eyes brimming with fresh tears. She took hold of your hand, bringing it close to her chest.
“We did it for you,” she babbled, tugging on the sleeve of your hospital jacket. “Please don’t be angry.”
You wrenched your hand away.
“Well I am! I am angry! How can you say -”
“Stop it,” Obanai suddenly snapped. Both Mitsuri and you shot your eyes to where he was now standing up. His gaze had hardened, fists clenched by his side. “Don’t get mad at her. She did nothing wrong. We had two options: kill the demon or save your life. Now, I don’t know if you have some suicidal tendencies or something but we made our decision and we chose you. It’s up to you if you can accept that or not, but there’s no going back, so just stop.”
“Obanai…” Mitsuri whispered but he kept his steely glare directed at you.
“That’s the problem,” you hissed, recovering from your initial shock. Out of all the hashira, Iguro was one of the quietest - rarely did he raise his voice or get angry like this. Nevermind that though, the beating in your head and the irritation you felt urged you on. “You made a dumb choice. That demon is gonna go and he’s gonna kill hundreds of more people. Why? Because you had a severe lapse in judgement? Is that why, Obanai?”
Obanai met your words head on, his eyes narrowing.
“Maybe it was a dumb decision,” he growled. “But it was our decision. Mitsuri and I. We chose you. You were more important in that moment. What about that can’t you understand?”
“Oh, I understand perfectly fine! I understand that there are two incompetent hashira among us that don’t understand where their priorities should lay. How's that for understanding?”
Mitsuri gasped quietly next to you but you didn’t dare tear your gaze away from the serpent hashira. If you could have seen his mouth, you swore he’d have been sneering at you in this moment. You watched as he took a few deep breaths, eyes shutting in what looked like exasperation.
“You.” He declared lowly. “You are our priority. And I am not going to apologise for saving you. Nor is Mitsuri. So, get. over. it.” The last words sounded like they were spoken through gritted teeth. Your nostrils flared.
“I am not your priority.” You argued, eyes blazing.
“That is not up to you to decide.”
“No? Well I just did! If you think… “ you started, voice beginning to rise. “If you think that my life is more important than taking down Muzan, then you're delusional. You’re crazy!”
“Do not put words in my mouth!” Obanai hissed back, Kaburamaru copying this sentiment.
Your eyes shot open as you laughed mockingly. “I’m not putting anything but the truth in your mouth!”
“Stop it!” Mitsuri cried, now standing as well. “Stop it, the both of you!”
Both your heads whipped towards the pink haired girl, who now had her hands clasped together as if she were about to get on her knees and beg.
“Mitsuri,” Obanai said softly, his tone doing a complete 180. “It’s her, not me.”
It’s a miracle your neck didn’t break at the speed in which you turned to glower at him. Your throat, still not completely healed, scratched with every word.
“Me? Are you kidding? It’s ME?” You were hysterical at this point.
Obanai didn’t concede.
“I don’t understand what your problem is. Really. This is pointless. What you’re saying is pointless!”
You were going to murder this man. You were going to have to commit seppuku for the war crimes that you were about to commit against him.
“Why!” You finally exploded. “I just want to know why you think saving me was your priority! Especially, when we both know that the right thing to do would’ve been to ditch me and kill that son-of-a bitch!”
This time, Obanai didn’t respond. You were panting, glare prominent on your face. Your ribs were hurting and all the shouting hadn’t helped the headache you were sporting. Off to the side, Mitsuri whimpered.
“Tell her, Obanai,” she murmured. He glared at her, then at you.
“No.” He said.
“Tell her,” she urged again.
You could quickly feel the rage swelling in your belly.
“Tell me what?” you croaked, voice ran raw. You wanted to shout and scream and demand answers, but you were so tired.
Obanai stayed quiet. Your eyes darted to Mitsuri now, who squeaked at whatever she saw in your gaze. Her hands fumbled nervously with the front of her uniform, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip. She shot a look at Obanai.
“We, um…” she started. On your other side, Obanai said something quietly. You didn’t hear, but Mitsuri clearly did as she grew a determined look on her face.
“‘Suri…” You warned.
No one spoke for a moment, before…
“We love you!” Mitsuri wailed, volume going unchecked as her face turned as red as hot coal.
You blinked, suddenly stumped for words. “Huh, you mean…Huh?”
Mitsuri started to cry again for whatever reason. You could only stare dumbly.
“I love you,” Mitsuri babbled between sobs. “He loves you too but he won’t say it!” She continued to cry.
When you looked back at Obanai, he refused to meet your eye.
A sudden knock on the door shocked you out of your stupor. Shinobu peeked her head inside, but immediately stopped as she took in all of your faces. Without a word, she quickly retreated, door slamming shut.
The room went dead silent, aside from Mitsuri’s quiet sniffles as she tried to gain control over her emotions.
Slowly, you started to speak, directing your words at Obanai as you did.
“Tell me that’s not true. It’s just Mitsuri being Mitsuri, right? Right.” He still didn’t look at you, silently shaking his head. You felt your chin wobble. “Don’t say that,” you protested. “Don’t say that!” You grew angry again, poking a finger into the snake pillar's chest. Your body turned to Mitsuri. “‘Suri you don’t mean that. Don’t say that, please. Please.”
She only smiled sadly. One of her hands reached out as if to comfort you, but you backed away into the pillow behind you. Your eyes widened in horror.
“Get out,” you crowed. “Get out, now!”
“What?” Mitsuri whispered.
“Get out of my room.” You stated, curling in on yourself. Mitsuri stepped forward, looking as though she didn’t know what to do with herself. Her eyes stared into yours, but it was like she wasn’t actually seeing you.
“You don’t mean that. You’re just tired, you need time to recover. You don’t… After everything, you can’t possibly mean to say…”
You choked on a sob, pulling the blankets higher over you. Bound by the cast, you did what you could to turn away from the both of them. Mitsuri said your name one last time but you covered your ears, tears finally springing into your eyes.
“Get out…” you murmured, too tired to do anything. Too tired to beg or yell or cry.
You heard as Obanai moved, saying something quietly to Mitsuri. Footsteps, then the door to your room closed and you were left all alone again.
Summary | After the death of the woman you loved, soft Remus Lupin is there to help pick up the pieces of your tattered heart.
a/n | 'I don’t think people understand how stressful it is to explain what’s going on in your head when you don’t even understand it yourself.' Please don’t let society, the internet or anything tell you how you have to feel. You’re not evil or heartless for not conforming to people's expectations.
///
You thought that the snow falling around you looked more like ashes.
The candle clasped tightly in your hands wavered and then went out as a cool breeze swept across the land. You were left in darkness, the only light coming from the moon which slept high over the Black Lake. The water reflected the moon, highlighting the creatures that tittered and danced over the surface of the lake, as well as the glowing from the merpeople deep down within.
The snow crunching underfoot made walking more difficult than it should've been as you headed towards the waters edge. The cold flutters of snow falling from the sky brushed against your cheeks. With every step you took, the dim lights of the castle beckoned you back - the golden lanterns promising warmth and safety. You closed your eyes tightly and looked away. You didn’t want warmth or safety. You didn’t want to return to your dorm, where you’d be trapped for the rest of the night.
You just wanted to feel something, anything. And you did. The winter’s night brought a numbness to your fingers, a shiver down your spine. It was a start.
Next to the water, you lowered yourself onto the white grass, pajama pants becoming wet with the dew. Taking a deep breath, you let yourself just listen to the sounds of the night. An owl announced themselves somewhere far away in the woods, frogs and toads croaking as they returned home for dinner. Something scurried in the bush nearby and a resounding plop echoed through the darkness as something moved within the deep lake. Your hands curled on the ground next to you, your head hanging limp. Eyes still shut tightly, you didn’t register the low light that grew closer and closer. It was the footsteps that alerted you that you weren’t alone. Eyes opening wide, your head swung around, locking sight onto another figure standing a few feet away, candle held steady in their hands. The light was weak, but still managed to illuminate the scarred face of Remus Lupin.
“You’re gonna catch a cold.”
You sighed, turning your head back towards the lake now that you knew it was just him. The last thing you needed was a teacher catching you out here in the middle of the night.
“I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do. Are you okay?” The sound of feet shuffling closer came from behind you, but you didn’t bother looking back.
“Of course I’m not okay. Do you think I’m okay?”
“It’s alright to cry, y’know? I’m here for you, no need to be embarrassed.”
“No, no see, that's the problem. I don’t feel like crying - I don’t feel anything. Am I heartless? I miss her so much. But I just, I feel nothing.”
The lycanthrope stood silently behind you as the words burst from your mouth. Now that you had started, it wasn’t easy to stop.
“I loved her. I loved her so much. But inside I'm just…empty. What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong inside my head? What kind of fucked up person am I, huh? What has gone so wrong in my head? Tell me, Remus, please.”
You wanted to break down - this was when the protagonist started to cry, wasn’t it? This was when the love-interest was supposed to hold them and tell them that it’s okay. But your eyes were dry and all you felt was anger. But even then, that anger was just some sort of illusion that you had made up in your mind. You weren't angry. You didn’t feel angry.
“Help,” you whispered, eyes staring vacantly to the distant shore. “Help me, please.”
A long silence stretched out between you two, before the lanky man sat himself down. First, he took the hands that gripped onto the snowy grass, stuffing them into the warmth of his bulky jacket. Then, he pulled you closer. You offered no resistance, allowing him to tuck you into his side. The quiet continued for a while longer, the both of you lost in your heads. When Remus finally spoke, he was soft but firm, words catching on his shaky breath.
“There is nothing wrong with you. You don’t have to feel sad, or mad, or whatever it is you’re telling yourself. If you loved her, and you care that she’s gone? That’s all that matters. Don’t think that because you aren’t reacting to her death with tears or anger, that you’re a bad person. We all deal with loss in different ways.”
The words made you pause, eyes tracking up the length of his jacket to his face. He wasn’t looking at you, but staring off towards the dark woods. A sad smile tilted your lips.
“Is it because..” you started slowly, hands clutching the rough fabric of his jacket. “I know that she’s gone home now? That she’s okay, wherever she is. Maybe…” Your words trailed off again, a hum caught in your throat. Remus glanced down, eyes connecting with yours. He smiled a small smile, something in his gaze telling you that he understood.
“I know we’ll all be gone, one day. I understand that. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t hurt…because it was always gonna happen, right?” He gave a small nod in response.
“You miss her and you love her. I think that love far overpowers any hurt in your heart.”
You dipped your head, closing your eyes. When you didn’t respond, Remus took your silence as acceptance and ran a clothed hand down your arm. There was a smile in his voice as he whispered to you.
“Let’s get back inside. You’re begging for hyperthermia wearing pajama pants and a shirt. Honestly, do you have any common sense?”
You laughed quietly, allowing him to help you up.
As you headed back towards the castle, the falling snow seemed more like flowers. And you knew that she was with you every step of the way.
Warnings | Fluff, fluff and more fluff. And a little husband smacking but we’ll get to that.
Summary | In search of the blanket, you find yourself in a war with your wives instead.
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“Who the hell took the blanket?” you groan, blindly reaching out. As you do, your hand snags a chunk of hair and you hear as the person next to you starts to stir awake. “Sorry,” you mumble, hand still searching the bed. This time, as you bring your hand back towards you, it accidentally meets with flesh and a quiet slap resounds in the dark room. “Shit, sorry,” you groan for a second time.
“Stop it!” a muffled voice whines.
“I’m not doing it on purpose, Suma!” You whisper back angrily. “I’m trying to find the damn blanket.” The girl mumbles something incoherent that you ignore as you roll over on your side, hand now searching the other side of the bed. As you hastily scramble your hands over the mattress, you don’t take notice of your wife sidling up behind you. At the last second, you sense that she’s trying to spoon you - but it’s too late as your elbow accidentally flies back, hitting her in the abdomen. Upon impact, Suma yelps and pushes away from you. Bleary eyed from sleep, you turn your neck to once again apologise. However before you can, a heavy weight crushes down on your head. It lasts only a moment, but you’re left dizzy and confused, your hazy mind starting to wake up.
Instantly on the defensive, you sit up, eyes squinting into the dimly-lit room. Everything is quiet in the pale moonlight but as you glance to your right, you’re met with the sight of Suma, one hand covering her mouth to stifle a giggle. Your eyes shift to where she is loosely holding a pillow in her grip.
“Did you-” you start to question. Before you can finish your words, Suma is already launching the pillow at your head again. At the last second, you’re able to stop the attack, hand taking hold of the pillow that had been hurtling at your face. Being a Hashira wasn’t just for show, after all.
You hear her quiet gasp and before she can recover from having the pillow being stolen, you’re smushing it against the side of her face. This time you’re the one laughing as Suma shakes her head, an angry growl akin to a kitten escaping her lips. Someone shuffles behind you and you crane your head back to see who it is. What you don’t expect is for the blue eyed girl to steal the pillow you had been previously sleeping on and using it to attack again with a renewed vigour now that you weren’t watching.
“Hitting an opponent while their backs are turned?” you growl playfully, piercing eyes now staring down Suma. Her face widens into a grin and you feel yourself mirror it. The fluffy pillow in your hands is sent flying at her once again and she meets it head on with her own pillow, the two of you locked in a fierce battle. Your partners slept in blissful peace around you, not noticing the war raging on in the middle of the bed. You would land a blow on Suma and then she would retaliate, mercifully you allowed her to get a few hits in. As you sat back on your haunches, your foot grazed a warm arm, making you freeze. You carefully checked to make sure that you didn’t wake up the body sleeping behind you. As you did this, Suma tried to land another hit, but missed as you ducked below the incoming pillow. While her arms were at an awkward angle, you sent your pillow back at her in a similar fashion. Just like you had done, she swung below the pillow, narrowly avoiding it. You expected the pillow to strike empty air but it came to a still as something solid stopped its path of travel. Cringing, you raised your gaze from Suma to the person you had just made contact with.
Makio was fuming.
“What are you doing?” She hissed, fists rubbing at her eyes. You shared a guilty look with Suma. Makio’s eyes travelled from the pillow in your hands, to Suma then back to you again, eyes narrowing. Before you had time to explain, she was diving over Suma’s lowered body and tackling you around the waist. There was nowhere to escape. You screeched, hoping it wouldn’t wake the other two and covered your face in preparation for an assault. As you did this, Makio raised a flat hand but was halted as something white came flying at her from behind. You watched in wonderment as she became still, head slowly turning behind her. From where you were trapped on the bed, you could barely make out Suma’s face, probably fearful at Makio’s murderous expression.
Makio was gone from you in an instant, her eyes now set on Suma as she trembled in laughter.
“Guys?” A quiet voice spoke. A body moved on the other side of the two girls who were now wrestling each other.
“Hina!” You whisper shouted. “Help me defeat them.” Through the dark, her brown eyes settled on you and you watched as her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Before she could ask what was happening, you chucked your pillow at her, motioning to your two brawling wives. She seemed to take the hint and smiled as she suddenly slammed it down on them both. Laughs shook your body and you couldn’t hide the glint in your eyes at your wife’s actions. Although Hina was made out to be the sweetest of you all, you knew the true devil inside of her.
Makio and Suma both continued to tussle, ignoring the pillow being continuously whacked on them, as they struggled to gain the upper hand on one another. As their fight shook the bed, Hina’s sweet laughter flowed through the room. You admired your three breathtaking women for a second, installing the image of them into your head.
Breaking from the stupor you found yourself in, you crawled over Uzui’s prone form to the side of the bed, going to retrieve a pillow that had been sent flying by one of the girls. You found it quickly, the white contrasting against the darkened floor. Half your body hanging off the bed, you made to lift yourself back up but paused as you heard a gruff voice.
“Girls, what in the world are you doing?”
“Tengen!” Suma cried, “Help me! Save me!”
The bed rocked as the ex-hashira pushed himself up, maroon eye assessing the situation. His lips thinned. From your spot at the side of the bed, you heard Hina's laughter fade out and the raucous fighting of the other two stop. You lay still, listening closely.
“Loves,” Tengen huffed out, his voice deep and rough from just waking up. “Do you know what time it is?” Suma squeaked out an apology as Makio begrudgingly flopped off of her, making the bed shake. Tengen’s deep breathing now became the primary sound in the room.
“Let’s get back to sleep,” you heard Hina say gently. Bringing yourself back up, you stared at Tengen’s chiselled back that was facing you. He hadn’t realised you were there. Over his shoulder, you were able to see as Makio and Hina lay down, limbs tangling together. But Suma still remained upright, noticing you behind Tengen.
“Darlin’?” He murmured, unsure. As he did, your eyes zeroed in on the soft fabric of the blanket draped over his lower body. That’s where it had gone! Suma noticed your stare, casting a look at the thick blanket that covered Tengen and only Tengen.
The tension in the room became palpable as a silence overcame everyone. The two girls laying down tried to see what was happening as Suma smiled. From your spot, you couldn’t see as Tengen quirked a brow, staring inquisitively at his wife. He scratched the back of his neck, the blanket shuffling with his movement.
“Suma?” He tried again. Your pretty wife only laughed, a devilish grin coming onto her face as she realised what you were about to do.
It was too late for Tengen when he finally noticed your presence behind him. You had silently moved closer and closer, pillow raising in your hands as you chose the best moment to strike. The Sound Hashira startled, body turning to face you.
He was too slow.
The pillow tightened in your grip as you swung it with full force, not holding back on the man who had been stealing the blankets. Every. Single. Night.
THWACK
You stared in surprise as Suma gasped in horror. You had succeeded in hitting Tengen, except…now he was sprawled on the bed, eyes shut. Your blow had apparently been much harder than you intended. You almost felt bad. Almost.
Fat tears started rolling down Suma’s cheeks.
“You killed him! OH my god, you killed Tengen!” The other two were now sitting up, confused at what had just transpired. “And I helped! Oh my god, that’s assisted murder!” Suma bent over, sobbing into her hands as Hina rubbed a soothing hand over her back. You sighed, yoinking the blanket from Tengen as he started to snore. Rolling over Tengen’s large frame, you moved back to your original spot, manhandling Suma and forcing her to lay down. Your other two wives reluctantly followed suit as you lay down again, their concerned eyes on Tengen’s still body. You adjusted the blanket that you had retrieved, using it to cover everyone. Suma still cried quietly, but you petted her hair softly and muttered a soft reassurance.
“He’s unconscious, Suma, not dead.” Her blue eyes shone up at you as she sniffled, snuggling closer to you. “He’ll be up and about as his usual flamboyant self in a couple hours.” This seemed to be enough for her as she closed her eyes, one hand fisting into your night shirt. Her tears came to a stop. Hina and Makio remained quiet, only whispering a goodnight as they cuddled with each other.
You took a quick glance at Tengen, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. A little regret panged your heart but you shook it off, knowing he was completely fine.
Maybe it would teach your husband to not be such a blanket hog next time.
Rest assured, Tengen awoke the next day, happy as ever. When questioned about the actions of last night, he acted oblivious saying he just remembered being woken up and falling back to sleep shortly after. Your wives seemed happy with this answer but something in his eyes told you otherwise as he stared at you over the table at breakfast.
There was a promise in his gaze, one that said he’d be getting his revenge soon enough. You grinned back at him.
Demon Slayer, the best and only manga i've ever read
The Hashira
Blanket Hog | Tengen Uzui x The Wives x Reader 🌻
In search of the blanket, you find yourself in a war with your wives instead.
Priority | Mitsuri Kanroji x Reader x Obanai Iguro (pt. 2)🌻
After a mission goes wrong, you’re left to battle with something far worse than a demon: your emotions. Or in which Mitsuri and Obanai are kinda in love with you but you’re kinda broken.
A Night To Remember | Moon Knight System x Reader 🌻
A nice night with your boyfriend Marc quickly unveils into chaos. A third altar? A horrifying demon? Your half-assed Egyptian God of Wind and Air, Shu? What could possibly go wrong.
Lost | Moon Knight System x Reader 🌚 🌻
When you let a broken-hearted Steven into your apartment, you never thought that this would happen. They needed comfort, you wanted to give it to them - but somewhere in the midst of it all, ‘comfort’ became something much, much more. Something it shouldn’t have.
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You and the boys are in potions and today's subject is amortentia! What could go wrong?
Baby, it’s Cold Outside | Poly! Marauders x Reader (except it’s just Sirius with Remus & James mentioned) 🌚
You and Sirius fuck by the Black Lake, except you’re really hungry and he needs to get to quidditch practice.
Voyeur | Poly! Marauders x Reader 🌻
When your wizard boyfriend, Remus Lupin, comes over one weekend with his friends in tow, a growing tension seems to suffocate the house. You know he adores you but…what about his friends? (Reader is a full-blown muggle in this).
Warnings | This is just chaos. That’s it. There’s your fic. // fluff, angst in a funny way ig, reader is a little crazy, James kinda sus, me bad at editing
Summary | You and the boys are in potions and today's subject is amortentia! What could go wrong?
a/n | Thank you for all the support on my last marauders post, it means the world that people could enjoy it ♡
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“Okay everybody!” Slughorn calls out as he enters the potions room. “If everyone could find a workbench, we shall begin.” Professor Slughorn is quick to inquire about the potion that he’s holding, waving it around for everyone to see. “Who can tell me what this is?” You ponder it for a second, looking to your right at James, who is studying the pink liquid closely. Across the table, Remus lazily raises an arm and Slughorn nods for him to talk.
“It’s amortentia, sir. It’s highly dangerous cause’ of its-”
“It’s a love potion!” James butts in, his lips tugging into a crooked smile. A couple of the girls in the class giggle at this and you side-eye him, rolling your eyes playfully. Slughorn nods thoughtfully, and addresses the class of seventh years again.
“Can someone explain the characteristics of amortentia?”
As a Slytherin girl answers the question, you lean over to James.
“How did you know that, Jamesie?” You murmur, peering up at him. The smile on his face quickly falters and a red hue starts to brighten his ears. He mumbles something incoherently. “What?” you ask. He opens and then closes his mouth again. You don’t let up, looking at him expectantly.
“It, ah, it’s nothing.” He brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I spose’ I read about it in a book or somethin’.” Pursing your lips, you stare him down until he gets jittery and looks the opposite way. Before you can press anymore, Slughorn starts talking again.
“Yes, a glistening shimmer and spiralling steam - both very distinctive features. Now, if you look under the desk, you will find small vials of amortentia. Do not steal them, do not spill them and definitely do not drink them. Have a sniff and see what you find.”
The room erupts into chatter as Slughorn turns and begins digging around in his bag. Across the bench, Sirius has already acquired the small vial and looks about ready to down it. Him and Remus are talking as a grin creeps onto his face but Remus clocks the look and boinks him over the head.
“Mate, if you drink that you’re gonna become obsessively in love. I wouldn’t.” Sirius raises a brow and inspects the potion in his hands.
“Obsessively in love? What, like - I'm gonna be more in love with someone I already love?” James starts chuckling next to you and you watch as Remus facepalms. Before the scarred boy can speak, Sirius starts again. “I mean, I wouldn't mind being more in love with my mon petit chou.” He winks across at you and you shake your head, amused. Remus snatches the vial from him, sighing half-heartedly as he does.
“If anything, you’ll become in love with Slughorn, since he probably made this!” The raven haired boy looks horrified for a second as James laughs harder next to you. Befuddled, Sirius shakes his head and gives the amortentia a scathing look. You can’t help but let out a laugh as well. Remus tries to seem annoyed but the smile on his face betrays his true feelings.
When James has calmed down and Sirius has stopped giving the amortentia disgusted looks, Remus turns to you.
“You wanna try it first, love?” He smiles warmly, holding out the small glass containing the potion. You hum, taking it from him and popping the lid. You take a second to just look at the contents of the potion and are startled to find all three boys staring at you as you look back up. You smile awkwardly, bringing the amortentia up to your nose. The smell doesn’t hit you right away and you need to take a second whiff to really discern what it is you're smelling. The scents are all mingled and it takes you a second to figure out which is which. “So,” Remus prompts. “Whaddya’ smell?” You close your eyes for a second, just letting the scents wash over you. You open them again, making eye contact with James.
“Smells like fresh grass, actually. Like the quidditch pitch.” The spectacled boy’s eyes seem to light up a bit at the implication. It’s true - the smell of freshly trimmed grass stands out and you can’t help but be reminded of all the quidditch matches you’d been to over the years. It’s a fitting scent, considering that your Jamesie is captain of the quidditch team. The other aroma is sort of woodsy and has you looking at Sirius. It’s almost identical to being snuggled up in his arms, face buried in his leather jacket. “Also kinda smells like leather.” Sirius tilts his head, and a wolfish grin seems to appear on his face. When you turn to look at Remus, a devious thought enters your mind. The third scent is clearly chocolate, the sweetness making your tummy rumble. However, rather than voice this, you pretend to think, scrunching up your nose. Your eyes meet Remus’ hopeful brown ones and you pretend to gag.
“Ugh! There’s the smell of wet dog as well!”
Remus’ smile seems to drop and he finds himself lost for words. Feigning ignorance, you’re quick to ask what the smells actually mean. Before any of the boys answer, Slughorn speaks up from where he is walking behind you.
“Well, dear! You are meant to smell the person you love, of course.”
“Oh,” you mutter. “But I don’t love anyone that smells like a wet dog…” your eye twitches but you try to keep your composure. The crack in your facade doesn’t go unnoticed as the brunette opposite you narrows his eyes at you.
Slughorn hums, patting you on the back. “Well, you may not have met them yet, that’s all.” You nod your head enthusiastically and thank him as he wanders off to another table, beginning to chat with another group. When your gaze returns to Remus, you see he’s still staring at you. Your lip trembles as you try to hold in a laugh.
“Do you really smell wet dog?” he asks, looking a little grumpy. You can’t help it anymore and start giggling at the moody look on his face. Quickly, you round the table and wrap your arms around him. He automatically hugs you back, grumbling against the top of your head. You pull back, a laugh still lingering on your lips.
“Of course I don’t, Rem.” You tip-toe to whisper in his ear, “I actually smelt chocolate.” You peck the tip of his ear and rock back onto your feet. He’s unimpressed but you can see the glint in his eyes that says he doesn’t really mind.
You untangle from him completely and push the vial towards him. “Your turn!” He grabs the amortentia from your hand before pulling you closer to peck your lips. A warm heat rushes to your cheeks and before you can react, he is bringing the potion up to smell. He seems contemplative for a second before peering down at you.
“Apricots.” He murmurs, beginning to smile.
“Apricots?” James says.
“Apricots?!” You mirror.
Sirius peeks over Remus’ shoulder. “What's wrong with apricots?” He muses.
You stutter, flailing your arms.
“She hates apricots!” James declares.
“I do, I hate apricots!” you agree.
Glaring up at Remus, you point an accusatory finger at him. Seeing the look on your face, Sirius looks questioningly at James, who just shrugs in return.
“Remus John Lupin, which human being are you in love with who loves apricots? Because it sure as hell ain’t me!” Sirius' mouth forms an o, and he promptly pulls you away from Remus. He wraps his arms around you in the guise of a hug (because you’re pretty sure he thinks you’re gonna jump the werewolf in front of you). And maybe he’s right. You struggle for a second but his arms stay secure around your middle.
“Now dear,” he tries to soothe. “Are you sure you haven’t used some apricot-smelling shampoo recently?” Behind your back, he beckons for James to say something. You shake your head no, fully aware that your watermelon-raspberry shampoo had not changed. James panics and blurts the first thing he can think of.
“You drank apricot juice this mornin’, remember?”
“James.” You growl at him. He recoils (despite the fact that there’s a table between the two of you) and squeaks out a ‘yes.’
“I do not like…” you pause, taking a deep breath. “Apricots. And I know that I did not drink apricot juice this morning. Now that I think about it, you weren’t even at breakfast this morning because you had practice!”
James had just been busted. Sirius groaned from behind you and sent a glare at the curly haired boy who held up his hands in surrender.
While all this happened, Remus watched on - laughing to himself internally. Had he really smelt apricots? No. But you didn’t need to know that - not yet at least. This was the least you deserved after inadvertently saying he smelt like wet-dog.
Your fiery gaze connected with his again and he almost felt bad. Almost.
“What about grass, Remmy? Can you smell grass and leather?” He took another exaggerated whiff and smiled brightly at you.
“Yup.”
The skin between your eyes crinkled and a dark shadow cast over your face.
“Now tell me.” You began. “Are you lying to me right now?”
Remus looked confused. “About the grass and leather? Ah, no?”
“No!” you burst. “About the apricots!”
Remus finally decided to show some mercy and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.
“Maybe I didn’t smell apricots.”
Your cheeks expanded like a puffer-fish and your steely look did not go unnoticed as you wrangled your way out of Sirius’ arms. You leapt at the little liar, trying to tackle him to the floor. It caught him off guard but he righted himself quickly, clasping you around the back of the head and situating you against his chest. You whacked him, once, twice and then went dead weight, groaning. Remus easily supported you, laughing quietly to himself.
“Why’d you lie to me, Remmy?” You spoke, voice smothered against his robes.
“Huh? You lied to me first by saying I smelt like a wet dog.”
“I wasn’t lying about that, though.”
“You- wait, what?”
You cackled demonically and pushed away from Remus, packing up your things as Slughorn dismissed the class. Remus tried to make a grab for you but you evaded him, running out the door. Over your shoulder, you called out to the boys.
Your marauders map was really really good! its now one of my favourites, please could you write some more?
Hi Anon!
Wowowow thank you for this! It has really made my day. ^_^
I don’t have anything in the works at the moment, but I am eager to write some more Marauders stuff (which I deffo will). Any ideas are always welcome!
Summary | what happens when you want to cook with your beloved? A lot, apparently.
Characters | Childe, Xiao, Itto, Alhaitham and Tighnari
A/n | Please feel free to send me requests for any characters you like! This is my first time doing one of these, so feedback in any form is always welcome! ♡
Safe to say, his Codename is acutely accurate. Everything started off okay. Childe went to get seafood from Liyue’s dockyards while you scoured the mountains for some fresh herbs and flowers to put into the soup. At the time, he seemed happy to help with making the dish; maybe he even felt reminiscent of his mothers cooking back in Snezhnaya. However, when you both returned to the house, it became clear that this would be no easy task.
“Childe, put that knife down!”
“What do you mean? We need it to cut up the crab!”
You grumbled to yourself, turning to glare at the harbinger.
“I already did that when you went to chase after those slimes you saw earlier!”
“Huh! What’s wrong with that?” Childe was now the one glaring at you. “They looked at me funny, ya know!” He crossed his arms, pouting like a petulant child. Groaning, you just turned back to the stove, continuing to stir the Calla Lily Seafood Soup. You should’ve known that this would be disastrous. Childe was - after all - more into slashing and dicing his victims than he was slashing and dicing vegetables. As you continued to ignore the man, you could hear him moving behind you, clattering pots and plates. After a second, the noise ceased and his footsteps approached you from behind.
“What now?” You sulked, dipping a finger in the soup to taste. It was silent before a grinning face appeared, sidling up against your body and wrapping a slender arm around your waist.
“Sorry зайка,” Childe cooed. “Surely you’ll forgive me.” As he said this, he placed two plates on the bench next to the stove. You just stared. Blinked. Then stared some more. Turning your head slowly, you watched as Childe continued to show you a big, triumphant smile. He even had the nerve to lean in and place an obnoxiously loud kiss on your cheek, eyes twinkling as he leant back. This man was too much (and not in a good way).
“Childe,” you began quietly. “WHY WOULD WE NEED PLATES FOR SOUP?!”
Зайка = Bunny
Xiao
I think it goes without saying that Xiao isn’t the cooking type. I mean, the dude doesn’t even need to eat food. So, how is it that you got him into the kitchen at Wangshu Inn, begrudgingly cooking with you (or well, watching as you cooked)?
It was quite simple actually, you lured him in.
It started with saying his name.
“Xiao.”
He showed up straight away. From there all you had to do was convince him of a super dangerous threat down in the kitchen. Did you specify what this threat was? No. Did you provide any context beyond ‘omg scary monster help’? No. Did you convince Xiao to follow you down to the kitchen? No.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so simple and you weren’t able to trick the adepti the first time around. So what? You had a backup plan! The plan started with getting Smiley to cook up some almond tofu and leave it on the main floor of the inn. From there, Xiao would be lured down from the upper floors, seeking out the scent.
Verr Goldet was a crafty woman, and maybe a lot better at telling lies than you were. So, when she caught the Yaksha trying to pinch the Almond tofu and make a run for it, she quickly stopped him.
“Xiao! Y/n has been looking for you.” Xiao paused in his retreat and looked silently at the owner to go on. “She went that way, towards the kitchens.” Verr pointed down the stairs. “She looked pretty upset.”
Was it bad to trick your boyfriend into thinking you were in distress and needed help? Maybe. But it was for his own good. He needed to relax once in a while, and with his karmic debt always lingering, you thought some relief was long overdue.
When Xiao came down to the kitchen in search of you, he couldn’t see you anywhere. However, being an adepti with extremely keen senses meant that it wasn’t hard to distinguish where you were. Due to this, it came as no surprise when you jumped out at him, trying to tackle him to the ground. The problem with this was that Xiao’s kind of a really strong, battle-hardened warrior and all you managed to do was wrap your arms around him before he easily picked you up in his arms, staring at you like a disappointed mother.
“Xiao!” You groaned, wiggling around in his grip. “Please! We can cook some almond tofu together.” He had half a mind to teleport upstairs, tuck you into your bed and leave - but when he saw the pleading look in your eyes and heard the excited lilt in your voice, he couldn’t help but concede.
“Fine.” He grumbled, hugging you closer. “But I’m not doing anything.”
Itto
Itto was overjoyed at the thought of spending more time with you. As everyone knew, Itto was lacking in the brain department but made up for it with his unruly excitement and positivity. Itto was also… a big boy. You learnt that if you add big, dumb and energetic together you get chaos. The oni couldn’t help but accidentally knock ingredients off of benches, burn his hands on scorching pans and unintentionally muscle you out of the way whenever he wanted to see what you were working on. Not to mention, this man never stopped talking. Like, never.
“Hey, maybe we get my buddy Thoma to help. He’s awesome at cooking!”
“Mhm, maybe another day. I think Thoma’s busy today.” Itto groaned and continued to roll (more so squish) batter between his hands. It became clear to you that maybe, just maybe, Itto was a little bit bored. Next thing you know, he had come up with a different idea.
“What about the Kamisato dude? We could do some onikabuto races while you cook, and then the winner will eat the yummy food!” You paused in the middle of mixing some dry ingredients.
“If you lose Itto, hon, then you won’t be able to have any yakisoba.” The oni didn’t falter at this. Rather, he puffed up his chest and flexed his muscles as if they would help him in bug racing.
“See these guns, baby? Itto-numero-uno-Arataki ain’t losin’ today and that’s a guarantee!”
Smiling at your boyfriend and the fact that you don’t think he has ever won an onikabuto race in his life you said, “M’kay, head around to the Kamisato estate then. Maybe Ayato will have some time to spare.” He grinned at this and didn’t need to be told twice before scurrying out the door. Watching his retreating figure, you just laughed to yourself - a pretty clear idea of what was about to happen.
“Baby pleaaaase, I’m starving! I’m dying!” You shook your head, hand on hip as you dished up a plate for the guest.
“You and Ayato made a deal, Itto. It’s not my place to break that agreement.”
“But - but! I had ‘im on the ropes baby! I did! If Mr Big-Man-Awesome jr. hadn’t gotten tired than I for suresyz would have won!”
You rolled your eyes, setting the plate down in front of Ayato. He nodded his thanks and started eating as you sighed.
“Well Itto,” you said in a mock-angry voice. “I’ll let you have some this time. But if you lose again, then I won’t be as kind.”
Legit tears seemed to stream from Itto’s eyes as he wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug.
“Yes ma’am, yes ma’am! I won’t lose again, I know it!”
A smile quirked your lips as you squeezed out of his embrace, knowing that Itto probably would lose again.
Many, many times.
Alhaitham
Alhaitham is certainly a very composed man. Even as his significant other, there are times when you swear there is no soul behind those beautiful eyes of his. However, what people don’t realise is that Alhaitham just has a very low-key way of showing his love. Besides being an absolute daddy
So, when you asked the scribe to help you cook dinner one night, he digressed from his usual stoic nature and actually entertained your idea.
However, that’s about as far as you got.
“‘Haitham, what should we make exactly?” You asked, clinging onto his arm as you led the way to the kitchen.
He sighed, “Whatever will keep us fed and alive, dear. Food is simply a necessity for survival, after all.”
At that, you scrunched up your nose and sent a dirty look at your snowy-haired love.
“Nooo,” you groaned at him. “Food is a luxury and a privilege, which we should make the most out of…” You trailed off, spotting one of your recipe books wide open on the kitchen bench. Last you remembered, you hadn't left it there. The only other person in the house with access to it was Alhaitham and you didn’t often see him in the kitchen.
“Huh,” you muttered, walking over to take a better look at the page. In a flash, Alhaitham was already striding past you, picking up the heavy cookbook and snapping it shut. Your mouth dropped open and the corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly. You pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. “What in Tevyat was that about?”
Alhaitham shuffled in place for a second, eyes darting around. It was strange. It was almost as if he was… lost for words. Quickly though, he regained his composure and cleared his throat.
“It was in our way, so I was just going to put it back in its spot.” He smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and you shot him a suspicious look. Reluctantly, you nodded your head and dropped the subject.
“Well anyways,” you spoke up, watching as he placed the book into one of the cupboards. “I was thinking of making that pani puri dish. Then, we can make a charcoal cake or something for dessert.” Alhaitham easily agreed, seeming content with what you had said. Humming to yourself, you asked him to fetch some veggies from the garden - watching closely as he left.
Little did he know that you had everything you needed already.
Checking to make sure he was gone, you snuck over to the same cupboard and pulled out the cookbook. “Which page, which page?” You mused to yourself.
“Aha!” There, stuck through the pages of the book was an intricate, green leaf-textured bookmark - leading you exactly where you wanted to go. You slapped the book down on the bench and flipped open to the marked chapter. What you saw there was… confusing.
“Invigorating… kitty meal?” A quiet noise from behind you made you turn to see Alhaitham standing in the doorway. The red hue on his cheeks rivalled that of the singular radish in his hands. He quickly turned on his heel and you could only watch as he disappeared back out the door.
Kitty meal, huh? Seems like you just learnt something new about your boyfriend today.
Tighnari
When Tighnari invited you to make his infamous Mushroom HodgePodge with him, you were ecstatic. People (namely Collei) had really hyped up the forest watcher's cooking skills and you couldn’t wait to see him in action yourself - maybe even learn a few things. But what you weren’t expecting was this esteemed mushroom dish to be just that. Just… mushrooms. They weren’t cooked in any grand way or seasoned with the fine herbs of the forest. No, the dish was just some cut-up mushrooms: mushrooms on a leaf for that matter. Now of course you wouldn’t express this to your beloved Tighnari (he seemed genuinely excited) but doubts definitely lingered in the back of your mind.
“Now,” Tighnari spoke, watching as you sat at the table with the steaming dish in front of you. “Allow me to tell you about the components of this dish that make it so delicious.” First, he pointed at the yellow mushroom.
“These are starshrooms, a common delicacy among the Sumeru people. In fact, one of the forest watchers sourced these from around Ardravi Valley earlier this week. Something about that place makes them grow and develop rich, smoky tastes. Go on, try it.”
You smiled, always happy when Tighnari shared his passions with you. It was a known fact that he could talk about the flora of the forest for hours on end, but it was just one of the things you loved about him.
Taking a bite of the starshroom, your brows shot up in surprise.
“Holy moly, mmph, dis’ess good!” You couldn’t help but exclaim as you stuffed more into your mouth, trying to talk but looking like a chipmunk instead. Tighnari beamed, his tail slowly starting to swish behind him. When he noticed, he quickly grabbed onto it, a pretty blush covering his face.
Coughing, he continued to explain the next part.
“So, this is the rukkhashava mushrooms, they tend to be a bit rarer - however, we forest watchers can get our hands on them pretty easy, y’know?” You didn’t even let him finish, digging into the next mushroom on your plate. You could see the pleased look in his eyes at your eagerness and the slightest twitch of his ears as he continued to ramble about the mushroom's temperate conditions. You nodded along, ready to devour the last mushrooms on the plate.
In the meantime though, you were happy just to watch your lovely forest watcher talk animatedly, his tail unknowingly swaying back and forth behind him once again.
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this is just Sirius with Remus & James mentioned and implied to be poly (i need to build up the courage for all three, kay?)
Word Count | 1.4k
Warnings | smut yeah, Sirius being kinda hot kinda annoying, consensual, some curses, badly written smut lol, inconsistencies, Sirius grabs you by the neck but it ain't choking, dirty talk
Summary | You and Sirius fuck by the Black Lake, except you’re really hungry and he needs to get to quidditch practice.
a/n | this is the first thing i'm ever posting to Tumblr, what the fuck. So bad, I’m so sorry. ♡
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“Slowly baby, I’m not going anywhere.”
The sound of groaning filled the air around the Black Lake as you and Sirius, well, railed each other like animals.
“But Siri,” you paused to let out a whimper as he hit a spot deep inside you. “Dinners in like ten minutes, c’mon!” As you whined, Sirius held a firmer grip around your waist, starting to control your bouncing movements. Hearing your words, he glanced up at you, half-smile and lidded eyes adorning his face.
“Dinners right ‘ere, baby. Whaddya’ mean?” He now fully smirked, grinding you hard against his cock. You moaned, unable to answer his teasing quip and instead only focusing on the lightning dancing across your skin as he sunk you onto him, over and over. However, through the foggy cloud in your mind - you did somewhat register his words and huffed a little as if to say shut up. Sirius got the memo, chuckling under his breath as he pulled your sweaty form tight against his hard chest. He started to trail kisses from your cheek, all the way down to your neck, leaving nips and sucking bruises as he went.
Through a gasp, you managed to utter, “Don’t you have practice soon?”
Sirius’ movements stuttered for a second before he started moving you up and down with a renewed vigour.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick, sweetheart.”
You rolled your eyes. Of course, now he cares about the time. It shouldn’t have surprised you; those boys lived and breathed quidditch. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if they turned it into their very own religion at this rate.
The sun hovered near the tops of the hills in the distance and the leaves of the old willow you two were under started to sway in the incoming breeze. The tree cast a dark shadow over you, outlining your closely interlocked bodies. Behind you, the Black Lake that you had just been swimming in was beginning to calm and cool down from the hot day it had just endured. Some said, if you listened close enough - you could hear the merpeople in the depths, going about their days - or well nights, or whatever it was down there. However, this was lost on both you and Sirius, as you continued your improper acts on the grass.
Burying your head into his neck, you let out a particularly loud wail, wiggling as if to escape the intense pleasure coming from the pounding of Sirius’ dick.
You could hear as Sirius clicked his tongue. Wrapping one large hand around your neck, he pulled your head back to look into your eyes.
“Gotta let me see all of you, yeah? Let me see that pretty face?” He grunted, pulling you closer so that your lips touched. All you could fathom to do was moan and move your lips against his to the best of your ability. This was no problem to Sirius though, who had clear control over the situation. With one hand tangled in your locks, he gave you one last especially sloppy smooch, before nipping the soft plush of your bottom lip and grinning endearingly at you. The sweat made his raven locks stick to his forehead, and his cheeks were flushed with a distinctive crimson hue, yet he had never looked more gorgeous to you. Interrupting your blissful sight-seeing, he rasped, “Gonna come for me, sweetheart? Gonna be a good girl and come for daddy?”
You mewled out your agreement, opening your lips to reply further. Before you could, a strong gust of wind brushed past the both of you, making you erupt in goosebumps - and not the ‘this sex is so good’ kind. You grumbled a bit, feeling the flame in your stomach begin to dwindle. The man below you was mouthwateringly good - intoxicating really - but in the past half-hour it had gotten so cold, and with no clothes on you were really feeling it. There was no way you could get into the mood when you felt like the fucking antarctic was breathing down your ass.
Sirius didn’t seem to mind, pumping his hips up to meet yours. The glossy look in his eyes and the snap of his heavy cock into you almost made you ignore the cold. Almost.
“Sirius, I’m freezing my balls off.” The Gryffindor in question looked super confused for a second, his plump lips opening as if to say something back. Although his hands loosened from your waist and came up to rub your arms, he never stopped his steady pace. “It’s freezing,” you choked out. While it was cold and your horny metre was dialled down to zero, you couldn’t deny that the pleasure was still radiating through every stiff, chilled muscle in your body. Not even the smouldering flames of sex could battle the freezing winds.
“Baby?” Sirius muttered. “You alright? Wanna stop?” The sweet tone of his voice contrasted with the furrowing of his eyebrows. He clearly didn’t want to.
You let out an embarrassing squeak as he thrust up hard. Sirius’ eyes lit up in glee.
“Sure you don’t want more, baby? Ya’know I’ll keep ye warm.”
Although it sounded convincing and the pleasure was still tingling your skin, you couldn’t ignore the frigid cold settling in your bones and the possibility that you were gonna come down with a fever. And being sick right before your upcoming exams? Yeah, no thanks. So, mustering your willpower and hardening your resolve, you said to Sirius,
“It is freezing out here, Sirius Black! Not to mention that I am starved,” You breathed, staring down a reluctant-looking Sirius. “Let’s go into the castle, and warm up, ‘kay?”
“But baby-”
“I said-” Suddenly, a thought popped into your head. “Sirius! You’re late for quidditch practice!”
Sirius’ eyes widened, and a distraught look came over his features. Before you could even react, he had pulled out from you and was dressing back into his discarded robes. Under his breath, he was muttering something about how ‘this would do’ and that he ‘didn’t have time to get his gear’. You simply blinked, a deadpan look on your face. What the hell? Struggling to squeeze his foot into one of his shoes, Sirius suddenly seemed to remember what had just happened. He whirled around, racing over to pick up your shivering body into his arms. You felt empty from the loss of him inside you, but even more, you were just…confused. Your plan had worked that easily?
“Sorry Sweets! I’ll make it up to ye t’night, I swear on Moony's grades!” He quickly pecked your cheeks, forehead and lips before placing you on your feet and hurrying off towards the quidditch pitch near the castle. You were unsure whether to feel anger at how fast he had just up and left you or feel pride at your successful attempt to get out of the cold. Sirius sent an apologetic look over his shoulder, waving with one hand and trying to tie back his sweaty locks with another, nearly tripping and eating shit on his way. “Also,” He called as he ran. “Maybe don’t tell Jamesie why I was late. Might have my ass for it.”
Snapping out of the stupor you found yourself in, you just laughed and shook your head, gathering up your own strewn clothes from the ground. The lights in the castle were beginning to flicker on as the sun started to descend behind the hills and you swore that you could hear dinner calling your name. Staring after Sirius’ figure, now a black blob in the distance, you giggled once more at your idiotic boyfriend and went to find Remus. Hopefully, he was at the Great Hall for tea. And If he wasn’t? Well, he could wait because your stomach had plans that you could not deny.
There was an uncomfortable slickness coating the inside of your thighs as you walked up to the castle’s doors, rearranging your skirt and trying to smooth down your mussed-up hair. You considered going to your dorm to clean up but shook your head, opting for food first and comfort later.
Slithering your way through the open doors, you felt yourself melt at the toasty warmness and the delectable scent of a whole lotta’ grub. In the brightly lit room, you searched out a familiar mop of brown hair and smiled as you saw your beloved werewolf sitting further down the Gryffindor table. He had on one of his soft sweaters and looked handsome as ever as he spooned some mashed potato onto his plate. A flickering suddenly seemed to relight inside of you and you quirked an amused brow, heading towards the brunette who turned in his seat to greet you.
Perhaps he could have you for dessert while you waited for Sirius and James to get back.
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