#I JUST REALIZED I FORGOT TO ADD THE SNOW.. sobbing

[ask-idv-night-watch]

Any hunters you dislike so far?

"…The photographer."

[abonelessgod]

A Nun’s Tale: Part 3.

Please comment if you like, always love to hear your thoughts & suggestions!!!<3

Also, if you asked me to tag ya before and I forgot - my apologies, please poke me again so I can add you from this point on!

Read the previous: Expo, Part 1, Part 2,

Tags:

@youbloodymadgenius​, @poisonous00 , @youaremyfamiliar , @castielsangelsx , @lol-haha-joke

TW: NSFW, execution. 

Ivar seemed to be taking his sweet time as the scenario unfolded before him. His face was almost expressionless, nonchalant, showing little to no emotion in those deep ocean eyes. They altered between the nun’s almost naked body and Erik’s terrified face - the man looked like he was staring at the angel of death right in the face.

But under the surface Ivar wasn’t as calm as he’d portrayed himself to be. Underneath the surface he was seething. Someone was trying to steal his beloved and most precious prize. Because that’s all she was to him, right? A tiny voice inquired in his head. Just a prize. A means to an end. A tiny lapdog or a lamb he could drag around on a leash, to keep him entertained when he was bored. No, Y/N was not just that - and Ivar has been lying to himself for quite some time now. 

Granted, he liked the stories. The tales about the Christian god and all the miracles he performed. His heathen heart sped up just a tad bit in her presence when he felt the strength of her belief whenever she clutched onto the simple wooden cross hanging from her neck. He allowed it because however insignificant this little piece of wood was - to her it seemed priceless. More precious than any piece of silver and gold they robbed from the temples. 

“I’m going to make an example out of you, Erik.” Ivar said eventually, his tone deceptively even. Almost musical. “Get up. Y/N. Get up.” he prompted the nun. An expression of sheer horror flashed across his face, but the warrior did not speak. “Walk out. Walk out now.” Ivar instructed, and Erik obeyed without another world, looking every bit like a lamb being led to the slaughter.

“Fix yourself, nun. Then join us. You should see this too.” Ivar said without even taking his eyes off of his new prey.

Y/N adjusted herself shakily, covering every bit of skin that was revealed to the lecherous man that was about to meet his ruthless end soon, for his crime. A part of her almost pitied him because overtime, she had learned to know Ivar and what he could be like when someone had tried to take away his toy. The thought that she was merely a toy to him hurt, a lot. But she had a feeling it was going to hurt Erik much much more.

By the time Y/N walked out, joining the roaring crowd outside, she could spot Ivar standing in the middle of the circle. His men stood behind him and Erik was kneeling on the floor. She had heard of the blood eagle before - terrifying tales of betrayal never going unpunished. Of lungs being pulled out and spines exposed, left out to freeze all night - only to be snapped like a twig at the crack of dawn. 

At first she couldn’t see too well, but Ivar’s hands were clearly preoccupied. She could see his face though. And his face wore an expression of great effort. The closer she grew, the more she could hear. The sound of cracking bones over the laughter and cheering of the people was barely audible at first. But once her eyes registered the sight before her - it was all she could hear.

Ivar was removing Erik’s fingers one by one. With each finger he tore off, another roar of agony pierced the cold night air. He threw them into a pile at Y/N’s feet without even looking at her. How strange. It was almost like he could sense her presence, somehow. 

Erik fell forward, the snow around him now stained crimson red. He sobbed, his long hair hiding a good portion of his face. “Good god.” Y/N’s voice betrayed her just when Ivar’s eyes found hers. All these contradicting emotions were raging inside her. Horror. Gratitude. Disgust. Mercy. Anger. 

Ivar’s eyes are hollow as he tears them away from her, raising his bloodied hands as if he was intending to hug his blood-thirsty crowd. They’re cheering for him. They love their fearless leader. 

He smiles for a split second. Revealing his lovely pearly whites that she’s learned to appreciate over time. But she knows his charm is just a beautiful mask. He is a killer. “Let every man, woman and child in Kattegat know!” He roared out of the blue, catching his crowd off guard. “This is the price you pay for trying to steal what is mine. And Erik’s end is nowhere near, although I’m sure he wishes it to be.” Ivar announced, stepping closer to the fingerless man bleeding on the ground.

“By the time I will be done with him, he will beg for death.”

At one point Y/N looks away, but Ivar makes her watch. His roar is more than enough to let her know he means business. So she continues to watch as Erik transforms into...something she can barely recognize. 

When his voice finally dies down every tear on Y/N’s face has dried off. His soul, as she believed, left his body - and all that was left behind was an exceptionally messy meat suit. The thought makes her want to hurl.

Once the crowd is dispersed Ivar takes Y/N’S hand, leading her back into the hall and through his bedroom. A slave girl soon rushes over with water and clothes. Noticing the cleaning tools, Y/N turns to look at Ivar, only to realize there is blood everywhere - on his neck, his forearms, his chest. Ivar begins to remove his blood-splattered clothes and for a few moments he acts like she doesn’t exist, like he’s all alone. Y/N watches silently. 

Eventually he speaks. 

“I would like to know what you must be thinking of me right now, nun.” He says, and the way he expresses the word “nun” makes her uneasy. Clearing her throat, Y/N speaks. “I...am in awe. Speechless.” she admits. Ivar doesn’t seem happy. His expression is unreadable, blocked. 

“Have you got nothing to say?” he asks after a long moment, his eyes looking like hard pebbles. 

Eyeing the slavegirl, Y/N is uncomfortable, unwilling to speak freely. Ivar nods and eyes the girl as she intends to move closer to wash him. “Leave us.” he commands and the girl scurries away. 

“I’m grateful...but...executions aren’t something to be taken lightly in my world, Ivar.” Y/N explains. The thought of a life being taken so swiftly, so brutally. An entire lineage being cut off as if one had merely plucked a blade of grass. Nothing more.

“Yes, we’ve spoken of this before many times.” Ivar muses, then eyes the cloth and pot of water that was left beside his bed. He sits down and eyes Y/N wearily for a long moment before reaching out a hand.

“Come closer Y/N. Help me wash away my sins.”

[searchingwardrobes]

I’ve been thinking all day about this post that I saw and reblogged about Snow’s desire to have another baby and how that hurt Emma. While it is completely understandable for Emma to feel that way as the lost girl that she is, I don’t think Snow is evil or a bad mother to want another baby. I’ve even read fics where people delete the birth of Snowing’s son altogether, seeing them having another child as a betrayal of Emma. I disagree completely. It isn’t them having another child that is problematic, it’s the way it was written in the show. Snow’s words in the echo cave that what she has with Emma isn’t what she wanted is a poor choice of words, but as a mother myself, I get what she was trying to say. Every mother wants to experience all the special moments as their child grows: the squishy baby against their shoulder, the first steps and words, the gap toothed six year old smiles - all of it. It’s what’s so tragic about the curse and what it did to Snowing and Emma. Snow having another baby doesn’t mean she’s “replacing Emma” because, by that logic, every mother who has more than one child is a bad person. Every mother who has a baby after losing a child is a bad person. That’s ridiculous. Any mother will tell you that ten babies can never replace the one you lost (or the ones you have for that matter). And if the Snowings should never have children as some sort of penance for giving Emma away, then by that logic, Captain Swan should never have children either because Emma gave up Henry.

Soooo, the problem isn’t Snowing having another baby. It’s the show’s writers doing Snowing dirty time and again by sweeping Emma’s emotions under the rug and having David and Snow cater more to Regina than their own daughter. We’ve heard the shows creators and writers use the excuse that they didn’t have time. Well, it wouldn’t have taken much. Dozens of little moments could have done the trick, they just didn’t take advantage of the opportunities they had to include them. So here are some quick scenes I wrote that either tweak canon or add to it and fix what the writers botched. These are written like scripts because I just needed to get them out of me. If anyone is inspired to use these as prompts for fics, feel free!

In Neverland:

Snow: If you can’t leave this place, then I’m staying with you. I’m not losing you again.

Charming: No, you can’t do that, Emma needs you.

(tears fill Snow’s eyes)

Snow: You’re right.

Charming pulls her close

Charming: I have hope that you and Emma will find a way to bring me home. We always find each other, remember?

Later, Emma is alarmed that they are leaving her dad behind. Snow takes her face in her hands.

Snow: We’ll find a way to bring him home - together.

Emma and Snow have a conversation in 3B ( did they ever get this chance in canon? I don’t think they did.)

Snow: (rubbing her belly) I get the sense that this is bothering you.

Emma: Why would it bother me?

Snow: (touching Emma’s arm) You can tell me.

Emma: I know it sounds silly, but I feel like . . . like I’m being replaced. (her voice hitches)

Snow: Oh sweetheart, we always knew we wanted you to have siblings. You could never be replaced.

Emma: But in the echo caves, you said I wasn’t what you wanted.

Snow: (eyes widening) Oh baby, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I meant that being separated from you wasn’t what I wanted - as a mother. We deserved so much more than we had - you deserved so much more. I wanted a chance to hold a baby, see his first steps, hear his first words. I’m sure you understand.

Emma: (chokes on a sob) I do, actually. I wanted all that with Henry, but I knew he needed more than I could give. And the worst part is, these false memories of raising him? Now they’re torturing me.

Snow: (pulls Emma close and holds her) I put you through that wardrobe because I had no idea what the curse would do.

Emma: (chokes out laugh) I would still be a baby now, for one.

Snow: (pulls back and cups Emma’s face) And who knows if Regina even would have let us be together. Your father was in a coma in the hospital. I shudder to think where my precious baby Emma would have been. (She presses her forehead to Emma’s.) Nothing could ever replace you, not now, not ever. Do you hear me?

(Emma nods and smiles through her tears.)

While Charming and Emma are putting together the crib, Snow gets quiet and wistful, then tears fill her eyes.

Snow: You were supposed to be so much younger when it was time to get ready for a new brother or sister.

Emma: (pauses in what she is doing to give her mother a watery smile) I know.

At the naming ceremony:

Snow: David and I thought about all of the many people who have loved us and supported us over the years. There are two special people who have not only been our friends, but also sheltered me when I needed a home. (chuckles) And didn’t hold it against me that I was hiding in their barn stealing their eggs. So we would like to introduce: Prince Lucas!

(Ruby and Granny gasp tearfully, then rush over. Ruby hugs Snow tightly and Granny gently takes the baby.)

Granny: Well, now that he has a name, I can finally finish that baby blanket.

(The crowd in the diner laughs.)

(Now Emma doesn’t have to be reminded of her painful past/awful ex every time she says her brother’s name.)

Emma realizes she’s made her baby brother’s bottle start boiling - ignore my alliteration :) - all the other mothers in the mommy & me class gasp or recoil, but Snow reaches out gently to her daughter.

Snow: It’s okay, Emma.

Emma is freaked out that she could have hurt her brother and runs from the room while Snow shouts after her, frantically getting LUCAS (not Neal) into his stroller so she can go after her. This sufficiently establishes the fear Emma has that she will hurt her family or push them away - Snow recoiling wasn’t necessary just as it wasn’t necessary for Hook or Henry to recoil from Emma to convey the plot point.

Instead of teaching Regina to dance:

Snow: (in her chambers, sees her husband rushing to leave) Where are you going?

Charming: I just realized I never got a chance to teach my daughter to dance, (harkening back to the dream he had in 3b - HELLO writers!) and this is her first ball.

Snow grins at the excitement on his face and in his voice and rushes out with him, baby LUCAS in her arms. But when they get to Emma’s chamber, the door is ajar, and they see someone has beat them to it:

Hook: It’s a waltz Emma, remember? You’ve done this before, and splendidly I might add.

Emma: You did it splendidly, you mean. Remember, pick a partner who knows what he’s doing?

(Hook laughs, and in the doorway, Charming deflates, smiling sadly and wistfully.)

Charming: (whispering to his wife) I forgot, this isn’t her first ball after all, and she already has a teacher.

(Snow touches him in a comforting way. Across the room, Hook looks up and sees them. He catches Charming’s eyes, and a look of understanding crosses his face.)

Emma: Besides, there will be other dances besides, waltzes, right? How will I learn those in only a few hours?

Hook: Well, love, I believe reinforcements have arrived. Someone else would like a dance.

(Emma looks up as her father approaches, a smile beaming across her face. Charming is visibly choked up as he takes Emma in his arms to dance. Hook and Snow exchange emotional smiles.)

Snow: And after the dancing lessons your mother is going to help you get dressed and do your hair.

Emma: (pretending to be embarrassed) This isn’t the prom.

Snow: No, but it is our first ball together. (She’s choked up - they all are.)

In addition to these, I believe the writers should never have done the “darkness was taken out of fetus Emma” storyline. I could write an entire post on this, but all I will say here is that it harmed Snowing’s established characters and did further damage to their relationship with Emma. For no reason at all, really. (And does Emma really seem like a pure snowflake with no darkness in her? Does that even fit her character? Please.)

They also never should have added the plot point in season 6 that Snowing could have gone to little girl Emma and chose not to. Why in the world would them going to her prevent the curse from breaking? That makes no sense! They could have raised her from that point, preparing her for her 28th birthday, when they could have all returned to Storybrooke TOGETHER to wake everyone else up from the curse. The only reason that couldn’t happen was - plot. You change the entire show. So why even include this plot thread? It did nothing but make Snowing look like bad parents. I’m a mama, and let me tell you, nothing would be keeping me from my kid, curses be damned. I would have gone through that portal in a heartbeat, telling Rumple, “we’ll figure it out, see ya!” So - yeah - never should have included this. And Emma’s reaction to this revelation? Completely out of character! Ugh!

Um, so there ya go - “How the show could have been better” by Melanie. 

And reading back over this, it’s kind of a mess, but I just had THOUGHTS that needed to come out. 

[thewritingstar]

To Learn to Love Again

Pairing: Gruvia

warnings: character death.. 

Hi! im not dead I swear!! any ways i truly apologize for this one.......like i cried........but i hope you enjoy???? (i need to write cute stuff...its coming!)

----

“Someone as vile as you could never learn love, and that's where you lose.”

Those words had haunted her ever since they had been spoken. Her expression didn’t even waver at the tone and she rolled her eyes before plunging a knife deep into their stomach, silencing them for all eternity. The blood leaked out and she was gone before their leg had stopped twitching. 

And they were right. She could never love, not again.

She had gone through husband after husband. Finding a rich hallow shell of man who would drop to their knees in a slight second and offer her everything, that was what she had. She collected her debt and when she was done, they would be cast aside in the shadows, divorced and some even left for dead.

That look of numbness, it was cold and brutal and brought a frosty chill down anyone's spine who had happened to catch her gaze, it was always there.

Ring after ring, she tossed them aside or would leave them for an orphanage to pawn off just to feed the hungry children, she had some sort of heart beneath all the smoke and fog inside. They never lasted longer than a month and if so, it could rust off before she could ever say ‘i love you’.

Those words, like fire on the tongue, sick to the stomach and made her toes curl in disgust any time someone uttered them to her. It was all one sided. She didn’t need affection or anyone. She could handle herself but taking ego of a man and all his riches could only fill the hole in her heart for long. She had sold her soul along time ago anyways.

Love. It almost had her laugh. Almost. It was pathetic at this point to even think about it, to even give that hope a speck of light. No, she was far to gone now. There was nothing in this universe that brought her pride or joy. Even the sweet lemon candy she once loved had lost its touch and was just a force of habit now.

-- She clean the knife in the sink and set it aside. Her gaze went out the window as the rain trickled on. Something so beautiful and needed for the world to grow had now become a nuisance, flooding everything in its path and drawing people away than in. But she was fine with that, at least she knew her place.

Even in the pouring rain, she grabbed the umbrella. She once had a bright pink one with hearts that danced along the top but traded it for the dark blue as it seemed to fit her better now. Someday she wished she had it back, but that would be too much. It would bring back more bitterness than good. 

She boots squished in the mud and she gave up caring. There was nothing for her now and slowly and slowly she felt herself drifting farther and farther away, wishing she was like the rain. Here for a second, then gone the next. 

“Never learn to love.” She clutched the handle, her knuckles turning white.

She could never love any other.

Not any more.

“Thats where you lose.”

And she had lost.

But they were wrong about love. Wrong about her never feeling the highs and lows of what the feeling was. She had been in love before, a beautiful and wonderful love.

Her memory was constantly playing those times, a loop for only her to know. Where she could run through the forest with him hot on her heels and they would lose their breath and slump against the tree. He would lean over her, hiding her from the burning sun under a tree and kiss her cheek, then her neck, then her lips. She could almost taste him. She could almost see the way his eyes glazed over as he took her in and she could feel the blush. 

Memories of them fighting bad guys and using their strengths to out number their opponents, she would hug him tight after a victory and they would slip away from the crowds and he would tell her how much her loved her.

The times they spent dancing, humming to their own tunes. She remembers how shy he was when they first started dating but then his confidence soared and he made sure that everyone knew how much he adored her.

Her laughed at her jokes, held her when she was sad and cheered her on no matter what. They were the ones people rooted for.

The feeling of love was always with her and it washed away the years of pain and suffering she endured. He was the one to carry her out of the dark, to love her a full capacity. To make her head be in the clouds even on the bad days.

She knew what love was.

And then it ended just as it began. She had love the tragedy in literature and now she was suffering, the only difference was once the book close, you could open it and start again. This was permanent. 

The scream that escaped her lips as she watched his knees buckle to the ground and fall just as he saved her, it echoed through the empty walls of the house they once shared. The blood that coated the fresh fallen snow, stuck to her mind that a broken record player and when she held him in her arm, he gave her a smile.

His head was in her lap and she brushed back his bangs. His chest rising and falling, it stopping faster and faster. Her face was red with tears and anger but all she could see was his dark brown eyes looking up at her. She could tell you the moment when his eyes had lost his soul and turned black. 

“You saved me again.” She said and he had enough strength to bring her hand to his lips. 

“You were always so beautiful even when you cried.” he whispered just as his eyes fluttered. “I love you.” And she didn’t think he heard her when she said it back.

She had lost the only one she had ever loved. And that next day she still walked down in her wedding dress and cried until the sun rose the next day. That pit of despair and fear crawled back into her slowly, undoing all the darkness he had vanished.

There was nothing stopping her, nothing keeping her going. And when they all came to find her, she was long gone, never to be seen again.

-- Her feet slowed as she stopped at a small clearing in the forest.

The money, the jewels, the riches. None of that mattered. 

This life she was living was suppose to be theirs. She was suppose to wake up and see him there. Walk down the path with him at her side and watch as he would make her small sculptures out of ice. He would sit on the counter as she baked and try and distract her. There was so much of the world left to see yet she had lost her universe already. 

Her knees hit the group with a thud but she made no noise as she guided her hand to the cold stone that had his name engraved. The only thing that ever made her feel even the smallest speck of emotion was her ring.

The only ring she had even wore was from him, her beloved. And even that had lost its sparkle over time.

“You know Gray-sama…” She thought this was dumb. Talking to a stone, but right now, more than ever, she needed him. “Juvia thought she could do it… she thought she could be okay.” Her lips trembled and for the first time in a while, she cried. “You taught Juvia how to love. How to be a wonderful and selfless person, you did. And its not fair” Another wave of sadness hit her. She shook her head. “The way you smiled and laughed with your friends, you loved everyone.”

“Juvia just hopes you knew how much she loved you.” She sobbed and she could feel the tears burning her cheeks.

There was a silence, like always and she hoped she would wake up from this bad dream and he would be standing there and his arms would be open and she would run to him and never let go. But she didn’t, and she never would. He was her person and she was his.

She sat at his grave, tracing his name slowly and she prayed that she never forgot the sound of his voice or the smell of his clothes. The feeling of his hands and the texture of his lips had faded like a whisper and before she realized what was happening, it was gone.

“Happy anniversary my love.”

The sky above grew darker as she finally managed to walk away, turning around just to feel her heart shatter again. She could never learn to love again, because how could you love someone when your heart had been given up long ago?

--

And then the minute reset. 

Her eyes were blurry with tears as she heard someone call her name. 

“Juvia!” She looked down to see Gray in her lap, fear in his eyes as pulled her close. 

Her entire memory had become twisted in her mind as she looked around at the battle field then back at Gray. Her tears were full of anger and sorrow.

“Juvia?’ He said worried about that look but before he could finish she had slammed their lips together and pulled him closer to her.

His breath was warm on her face as she pulled away and she looked him in the eyes. they were still the beautiful shade of brown, full of life with pupils blown wide. 

“Gray, promise Juvia you’ll never leave her like that again?”

And the look on her face had sent a cold shiver down his spine. He didn’t know that he had just died and their future had played in her mind, but what he did know in that moment was to never leave her because he loved her.

“I promise.”

She had learned to love, but she would be damned if she ever lost. No, not ever again. 

That night Gray gave her a promise ring and it shined brightly and her tears and sorrow were soon forgotten.

----

Btw i wasn’t going to add the happy ending but then i thought that yall maybe needed it. Im sorry i havent been posting but now that we are in quarantine, hopefully i can get more going, i have alot planned!!

hope you enjoyed!

[romioneficfest]

Ring

Title: Rings Prompt: Bonus Day - Kisses Name: Rated: T Brief Summary: A row about payments turns bad real quick for Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Will they overcome it? Content Warning: harsh language, domestic rowing, lots of angst.

Set out in front of his seat at the dining room table are two past due payment notices. For whatever reason, their council tax wasn’t paid and they had a past-due notice from the Utility company. ‘Bloody Hell! How did I miss paying these? I swear I paid them the last time I was in Gringott’s,’ says the very annoyed redhead, as he proceeds to slam them down in front of him while running a hand through his shaggy hair. 'And I know I mailed off the utility bill the day after you left. I don’t know why that past due notice was sent.’

‘We shouldn’t have to pay these interest fees if you would’ve paid them on time when I told you to,’ said the bushy-haired witch.

‘Oi, it’s not my fault. I did pay them. I’m not the only one that has to pay the bills around-’ his words were cut short by the deadly glare his fiancee is giving him. 

‘I pay bills too, Ron, and might I just add that it was your turn to pay since I was away on a business trip, not some fancy holiday. I told you before you made the payment to make sure you're listed as a representative for the account.' 

'I did check ahead of time, why don’t you trust me, it's like you think I can't take care of it on my own’, he retorts. 

‘Don’t make this about trust, you know I trust you. Maybe you forgot to send the payment because you had other plans. 'Tell me what you were doing while I was gone?’ She puts her finger to her mouth and bites her pink lip, pretending to think for a moment. ‘Oh yes, you decided to go with Seamus to a Quidditch match and drink the weekend away! Then you got so bloody pissed that you went on a spending splurge and bought almost every piece of ridiculous Quidditch gear, memorabilia, and posters you can think of,’ Hermione fired back with so much bite that Ron thought she was going to hex him any minute. 

He rolls his eyes then looks at the table linen, just now noticing that it’s so torn and stained that you can barely call it a tablecloth. Shaking his head, he lets out a moan, ‘Come off it, why can’t you let it go? You already told me off for going in the first place. It was the Cannons vs Puddlemere, championship game, and guess what? After they got rid of that rubbish manager as I said, you know who won? The bloody Cannons won. I’ve waited my entire life to see that happen. I thought I’d never see it. And I don’t regret going with Seamus… well, maybe a little since we got pissed and he got sick on me but other than that I had an amazing fucking time and yes, I bought some things so what? I work two bloody jobs to afford a few fun things.' The Auror leans back on the uneven chair and glares back at the woman in front of him, basically challenging her to come up with something else to say. ‘Going to the championship match with him was a once in a lifetime opportunity.’

'Oh Merlin, I can’t even take a break here,' he tells himself. It’s not like she has actually been wanting to be near him for the past few months, well technically it’s been a few weeks but it feels like it’s a lot longer. She would find some sort of excuse to occupy her time, at first. ‘I didn’t think much of it, telling myself she’s been working longer hours.’ However, it didn’t stop there. She would bring so much work home with her that our flat felt more like an office rather than a home. He surveys the room, seeing all of the bright orange memorabilia clashing with the piles of books and parchment all over the place. He grumbles under his breath. The only thing left to get is one of those muggle paper dispensers that give you a number since it’s obvious that he has to arrange some sort of appointment for his petite curly-haired witch to even look his way, he tells himself bitterly.

‘If you had such an amazing time with Seamus, then why don’t you tell him that you’ll be having a blast bunking in his hotel room he’s renting, oh and also tell him next time you decide to go to a Quidditch Match with him that you might as well buy the whole stadium since you are not capable of being a man that remembers his responsibilities or common knowledge to be an adult!’ she explodes, not realizing she crossed a thin line.

As she gets up from the chair, she knocks it back into the wall with force and crosses her arms against her chest. She turns back to him while shaking her head and tries to discreetly wipe the moisture from her eyes, with a frown and despising the fact that every single time they’ve had a blazing row it always ends the same. No matter how many years she has known the piercing blue-eyed occasionally insufferable git, the outcome of a row is practically the same, with her crying like she was 11 and overheard a boy call her insufferable. She always believed that their rows hurt her worse than any curse thrown her way; even her torture at the hands of the most sadistic woman in the wizarding world hurt her heart less. Why couldn’t he follow-through without her supervision?

Only the ticking of the grandfather clock was the only noise in the entire flat. Seconds turned into minutes, he can’t believe she said that to him. Why can’t she see how her words stabbed him straight through his heart. It's like she transformed from his beautiful fiance to the taunting ghost-like figure he destroyed years ago. 

He realized right then that nothing is the same, not like it used to be. He reached up to rub his eyes and found his face wet with tears. She knew about his insecurities but for her to tell him he’s not man enough made him think back to the one nightmare memory. He was a failure. What he never could overcome is finally getting the better of him. He’s frozen to the chair, just staring at her back in utter silence. Noticing every minuscule detail of her, every single curve on her tiny body that he is immensely crazy for. To every chaotic chocolate curl on her head, the way her shoulders are hunched and shaking, making her look even smaller than she actually is. He sits there, soaking in every single detail, trying to memorize everything, fearing that if he blinks, the woman of his dreams would vanish.

Slowly getting up with tears streaming down his now bloodshot eyes making it hard to distinguish whether his eyes are blue or red. Wringing his hands together, he takes a deep breath and tries to not let out a choked sigh.

Why did the locket have to be right? All those nights when he wore it because he knew that the rhythm of the heartbeat emitting from that locket just there taunting him, night after night. It wasn’t there to protect her from that evil. It wasn’t to have her avoid wearing it for one moment because he felt she shouldn’t be mentally tortured by that bloody object. No. The reason he wore that damn thing more was that he knew, deep in the pit of his heart, he wasn’t man enough to be in her life, not good enough to even have a place to call home.

His voice failing repeatedly,  Ron finally finds his voice. ‘I n-never t-thought…,’ damn it, why when I decide to talk I’m failing to even say words correctly, he thinks to himself. Trying again and he wipes his eyes hard with his hands and takes a deep breath. ‘I never thought… you felt that way. I’m so… sorry to disappoint you,’ he tells her, trying his hardest to not break down. ‘I know I made the payment, but maybe I messed up when I sent it. I won’t tell Seamus anything but I’ll leave if that’s what you want. Everything is pointless if you’re not in my life and if you don’t think I’m man enough for you then… well, I’ll get a few of my things.’ He looked up, piercing her with a bereft expression. ‘Keep the ring I bought for you because from what I know… you need a man to stand up to you and for you and love you and I’m not the one for you since I don’t… know how to act like a… man… or an adult.' His voice leaves him practically wheezing out each word like it inflicted physical pain to him. He grabs onto the table almost as if it’s the only thing that is helping him stand up as he weeps. He didn’t notice the woman he loves had stopped shaking and had turned around and is now staring at him with so much anguish.  

It finally dawns on her that when she said he wasn’t man enough she never meant it. Once again, her anger got the best of her. She needed him and he was spending so much time with Seamus and didn’t have time for her. Since Seamus said he knew someone who could get them tickets to the championship tournament and back to catch up with her fiance, she’s barely had any alone time with him. She’s had no time, let alone any time in general with him because of all the work the ministry is pushing on her. 

She is shocked to the core of the way she sees his knuckles, white as snow as he grips the table for dear life. Tears are pouring down her eyes as she gives up holding them back, she wants to, no, she needs to show him she loves him and that she won’t give him back the ring he gave her when they went on a trip with her parents to Australia when he proposed to her. She has to make him understand that he means the world to her. Why is it so complicated when it could be simple? He is a man, she is fully aware of that aspect, but why did I say the opposite? Oh Merlin, why did I have to make him doubt himself. Finding her voice, she tells him in broken sobs, ‘I never meant to say those things to you, I love you so bloody much..' - whatever she was going to say next was cut short from the look he gave her.

It was the same look he gave her before he left the hunt on that rainy night - cold and emotionless, nothing else showing in those beautiful deep blue eyes that she loves almost more than his freckles. She then sees his guard go down and thinks that she might have broken down the barrier that was put up when she first began rowing with him.

‘It’s not that simple, you… you can’t act like things are fine if you apologize.  As the muggles say, ‘actions speak louder than words,’ he replies back and takes a moment to breathe then says, ‘I’m tired of this, Hermione, so tired. I don’t think I can do this anymore. Every time we row, you expect me to apologize, to say sorry when I’m not at fault. Why can’t you ever say, ‘I made a mistake,’ or ‘Let’s see what happened and sort it out,’ not yanking my bollocks for a mistake? If I want that, I’ll go back to work and hear it from them.’ He heaves a desperate sigh. ‘It’s not like I’ve not been a bastard too, saying shite when I’m upset, but you went too far this time. I won’t be your house-elf, kicking me when things go wrong.’ He sighs again, ‘I think it’s best if we go our separate- ‘

‘No!’ she interrupts. 

She lets go of her hand, the one fidgeting with her engagement ring that he spent quite a few galleons on for her and walks to stand under his chin, looking up at him. She had one chance to save everything they’d worked for, one risk to take to admit how much she cocked up and how she was going to fix things between them. 

She had to admit how painfully wrong she was.

He was worth it, wasn’t he? All of the times he backed down, swallowing his pride so she could feel right, all of the times he put aside his needs for her just so she could belittle him over a late council tax payment? She was going to blow apart everything over 5 galleons? Were 5 galleons all their relationship was worth?

How many times did he stay in with her, saving money to afford this flat, affording the occasional nice thing she asked for? How many months did he pull extra shifts with George to afford the ring on her finger, forgoing almost every bit of fun to afford their flat, a few holidays together? He did so much for their relationship because of the future they wanted together.

Why did she get so angry over something so petty, so trivial? What was it that made her explode over something so pointless and say terrible things to her fiance?

If they were to marry, she absolutely needed to work on herself, her temper, her sharp edges that hurt others. She had to quit lashing out at him, the one who supported her ambition completely.

He has done so much for us so why can’t I admit I’m wrong and do my part? 

She lets go of her hand and closes the distance that was made between them and grabs his face and brings her plump lips up to his soft ones and kisses him so hard that she thinks that her lips will bruise. If it does it wouldn’t matter. She can’t let him go even if he isn’t kissing back at first. He is still as a rock but when she lightly bites his lips he seems to come alive and kisses her with so much intensity he forgets all about the wizarding world they live in and only focused on how much he missed this. He almost forgot how amazing of a kisser she is, it's been too bloody long. Every time their lips meet it sends him teetering on the brink of insanity, he can’t get enough.

Wait, no, this won’t be fixed with snogging like any other row, he thinks. 'Hermione,' he gently pulls her face back from his, seeing the tear tracks on her face. 'Kissing me won’t make the problem go away, not this time.'

She stops, taking a very deep breath. 'Ron, I know we need to talk. I needed you to know that what I said was wrong and I made a terrible mistake. I said something that wasn’t true and said it out of anger and frustration when I shouldn’t have done so. You are the best thing in my life and I would be a right foul git to throw it away over 5 galleons. And you have every right to be hurt. I said things that I shouldn’t, especially when it wasn’t honest.’

Ron sits back down in the chair, almost eye height to her standing. She instead kneels down, looking up at him. 'I’ll do whatever it takes, including making an appointment tomorrow with a Healer. I never want to lose you. I did once and it was the worst time in my life. I don’t want a repeat of it again, especially when it’s my fault. I’m sorry.’ She drops her head down, not looking him in the eyes. ‘I need to learn to not hurt you when I’m frustrated. Taking my frustration out on you is wrong.’

He reaches out to her, lifting her chin. 'OK. I’m willing to do everything as well.’

An owl taps on the window, breaking the moment. ‘I’ll get it,’ Hermione gets up and goes to the window, collecting a bit of mail from the owl. Hermione tears it open, reading quickly. A sardonic laugh breaks the silence.. ‘It’s from the Utility company. It seems that it got lost in their mailroom for a fortnight. The post stamp on the envelope was the day I left.’ Hermione turned and her face was tomato red. ‘I was wrong to doubt you.’ 

[crystalwillow]

Without You, Part Two

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey Valentine (F!MC)

Word Count: 4.9K

Taglist: @deansmyapplepie @schnitzelbutterfingers @rookie-ramsey @vibrantlyjaz @brycelahelalover @eleanorbloom

⚠️ Warning: Includes mention of death, pain and heavy sorrow. If you are easily upset by death, please stop reading here and I will be back soon with a happier fiction. If you really wanted to read it, and are now sad you won’t be able to, I send my deepest apologies and hugs to you. Thank you for your support, it means the world to me and keeps me motivated to keep going and creating new content. ⚠️

POV: Narrative & Ethan Ramsey

=========

--- Narrative ---

“Casey... It- It’s Ethan.... He’s taken a turn for the worse. It looks like he might pass away. Tonight.”

Her blood ran cold at those words, the grip she had on her phone gone as it fell to the floor and she bolted out of the apartment. No. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t happening. Not now, not today, not to him. She ran the short distance from her shared apartment to Edenbrook, running through the halls to Ethan’s room in the ICU. She froze outside as she looked through the window, doctors and nurses crowding his bed as they tried frantically to resuscitate Ethan. She placed her hand on the glass, tears streaming artfully down her face.

“Come on Ethan, please, pull through. For me. For your father. For... For us. You can do it please.”

Her voice was but a whisper as she continued to cry as she watched the scene in front of her. For a moment it looked hopeful and her tears stopped as she held her breath. But then a different emotion overtook her as the doctors and nurses stopped trying. Looking at each other with sorrowful looks.

“No. no. no. they can’t stop trying.”

Casey mumbled to herself as she fumbled with the door handle and entered the room. Hearing the words she never wanted to hear.

“Time of death. 11:56PM”

No. He... He was gone. Sobs wracked her body as the sound of pain left her body with every cry. Her tears were now like that of a waterfall as she pushed through those crowded round his bed. Leaving wet footprints on the floor. Her feet were numb from running through the snow in just socks but that didn’t matter right now.

“No. Please. Ethan wake up! Show them you’re okay. That you’re playing a silly prank on them. I know how much you secretly love those. Though this would be a sick prank to play right now Ethan Ramsey.”

Her hand cupped his face, thumb stroking over his stubble as she pressed her lips into a thin line and blinked back some tears. She didn’t notice her among the crowd of people as she looked through the window, she was too focused on her boyfriend. But she turned around upon feeling a hand on her shoulder. It was June Hirata, tears of her own shining in her eyes. Okay, so her and Ethan disagreed a lot, but that didn’t mean she didn’t respect him as a doctor. Casey let go of Ethan for a little bit and hugged June, the two sobbing into each other’s clothes. Admittedly June’s clothes got way more soaked than Casey’s, but that was to be expected. She had just lost her boyfriend, who she loved so much. So deeply. She knew secrets that we’re just between herself and Ethan, which made them special to her. They had so much planned out for the next year of their lives together. Trips around the world, weekend getaways to hotels nearby. But now Casey would be tasked with cancelling it all. She couldn’t go now. More importantly, she didn’t want to. Not without Ethan.

“Casey. Where are your shoes? Your feet are soaked!” June exclaimed, looking at the floor.

“They don’t seem to matter when you’re told your boyfriends dying.” Casey smiled weakly.

June nodded understanding, “We’ll um... leave you to.. have a moment, whilst we continue to try and get hold on his father.” she said barely above a whisper, filing out the room behind the last of the staff in the room.

“Thank you.”  Casey whispered back, turning back to Ethan.

Casey sighed as she looked at him, moving a hand to brush his hair from his face.

“You always do look peaceful when you’re sleeping. So relaxed and free of any worry.” She held his larger hand in her much smaller and delicate one, going back to stroking his stubble with the other. Tears started to stream down her face again as she begged one last time.

“Please Ethan. Wake up. Give us some kind of sign you’re still bre-” she gasped as he squeezed her hand. In that moment she swiped the tears from her eye, going from the sorrow filled girlfriend to Dr. Valentine as she called for help.

“NURSE! JUNE! ANYONE! ROOM 378 NOW!”

June come bursting through the door frantically with wide eyes. Her tone alarmed.

“Casey?! What is it!”

“H-he squeezed my hand and look.”

She pointed to his chest which rose and fell as shallowly as it did before he just passed away. June rushed to get extra help and Casey was escorted outside as a team worked even more frantically than before to stabilize Ethan’s condition once more. Casey stood outside with bated breath again as she watched. It was only minutes but felt like hours when June came out of the room, seeming lighter. A little happier. Casey regarded her with a quizzical look as a smile broke out on June’s face.

“You must be pretty special to him Casey. Hearing you must have earned a response from somewhere in his brain. His breathing is still shallow, yet a little stronger than before. It’s starting to look like his chance at survival is getting stronger.”

Casey hugged June back tightly, the words of thank you weren’t needed in that moment as it could be felt in the grip of the exchange. June walked off to fill out some paperwork and carry on with what she had to do as Casey re-entered the room.

“Hey fighter. I knew you’d come back to us.” She whispered happily as she took his hand. There it was again.. another squeeze. Casey cried again as she squeezed back, a small and happy giggle escaping the back of her throat.

“You’re really special to me Ethan. I love you so much... I- I’m glad I waited to love. Because if I hadn’t. We probably wouldn’t be a thing and I... I can’t imagine not loving you. You’re perfect for me, perfect to me, in so many ways Ethan. And so many of them you don’t see. But you... you’re beautiful and...”

She giggled at another squeeze as if he was telling her she’s beautiful too.

“Thank you. I know that now because of you. Everyday you make me feel like the princess I deserve to be. Also, I would literally be nothing without you. I’d be working in my local target probably. So I know I’ve said it a thousand times. Well tried to, but you can’t cut me off right now. So thank you, Ethan. For making me the amazing doctor I am today. The genuine overall person I am today. So please... for us... open your eyes and focus on breathing stronger every day. Take it slow, don’t get upset if nothing changes for a while. Because I’d wait forever to look into your beautiful crystal blue eyes again, Ethan Ramsey. I’d wait another 10 years if I needed to okay? Take one day at a time. And yes, I’ll still come and see you every morning and every lunch time. I’m not leaving you.”

She lent over and kissed each of his cheeks delicately, then smoothed his hair back out as the door opened.

“Casey?”

She turned to see Alan in the doorway. She gave a small smile.

“He’s okay. We got him back.”

As relief fell onto Alan’s face, Casey smiled a little and gestured for him to come over. He walked over and took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of the bed to which Casey was standing.

“He’s smitten about you. Did you know that?”

“I had a pretty good idea. I mean, it isn’t normal for your boss to suddenly bring an extra lunch every day incase you forgot yours. Nor is it normal for him to do half of the things he’s been doing. Though my favourite has been the little gift of chocolate he’ll slip into my coat pocket as he passes by when it’s my time of the month.”

“Ahhh. It’s good to see he took my advice.”

“That was you?”

Alan and Casey share a genuine smile over Ethan as they spoke and bonded more.

--- Ethan Ramsey ---

I hadn’t moved in days. The last thing I remember is being upside down and trying to answer messages from Casey as darkness crept into my vision. Now I was in the hospital as a patient. I’d concluded this from two simple facts. The constant beep of machines around me, and the clinical feeling I got from the smell of my surroundings. If you wanted to make it three, you could add the fact of me hearing her voice every day. Every morning when she arrived, every lunchtime she had, and even before she left every night. There she was, when she should have been with her friends. Laughing, making memories, forgetting about me. It had baffled me why she even started chasing after me in the first place. I’m a cynic. A bully at times. I don’t believe in true love and I certainly don’t chase after people. But that all changed when it came to one Casey Valentine. For her I had started to change, started to open myself up more to the possibility that maybe true love does exist.

Over the past few days, apart from hearing her voice. I’d heard father’s too. Thankfully, he told me he didn’t inform mom of my current state. As he said that all I could think was “Thank God. I wouldn’t want that woman anywhere near me.”

And everything over the past few days led to the moment I was in right now. Casey hadn’t stopped by after work like she usually did. Had she finally realized I wasn’t worth it? Had she finally given up? She must have done, and that broke me in so many ways. So what was the point in fighting what my body had wanted to do for so long anymore? And so I decided to slowly give myself away to death, because if I truly loved her I had to let her go and stop putting her through so much pain. It must have been horrible seeing me so quiet and God knows what my physical state looked like, but I knew I didn’t want to find out. I’m aware that it may seem stupid giving up because my girlfriend didn’t stop by after work as usual, but I’m 38. She’s ten years younger and has time to move on and find another love. She’d cope eventually and she has a great support system. Okay yes, fine I’ll admit it’s selfish to think and talk like that because she loves me, and I love her. But it’s because I love her I had decided to let death slowly take me. If this was what was supposed to happen, so be it.

I listened as my monitors beeping changed and alerted staff that came rushing in. Then I heard a small familiar one above all the chaos in the room.

“Dr. Hirata, I’m going to call Casey.”

“Okay. Call his father too. He’ll want to be here.”

‘No. please don’t call Casey. Seeing me gone will break her.’ Was all I could think as I heard the door open and close. The minutes ticked by and I could feel the staff working to do everything they could to save me, until finally, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. I flatlined. My heart gave up and they stopped trying to save me. With my hearing still working somewhat I heard the door burst open and the voice that followed it was familiar, yet broken. I listened and what I heard next broke me. Even though I was technically dead, I got the vision clear as day. Casey running through the snow in just her socks, to get here. To me. To see....

If it were possible a tear would have escaped my eye, trickling down my cheek as I listened to her a June talk. When she held my hand, I knew I somehow had to respond. I had to fight back, and just hope it wasn’t too late.

--- Narrative ---

Days turned into weeks as Casey took Ethan on as one of her own patients to monitor him more closely, and also to bring herself some peace with knowing he was okay. The he was still breathing. But overall, she done it to sneak chance to whisper sweet nothing into his ear as she gave him the gentlest of hugs.   months passed since the day he flatlined and was pronounced dead as she entered his room, then magically came back to the world. Almost as if he had decided he wasn’t ready to leave everything behind. Casey was doing her first rounds of the day with a smile on her face, Ethan had been getting stronger and more responsive. But nothing could have prepared her for what she would see that day. The feelings it would make her feel. As she looked up from closing the door to say her usual good morning as she walked over to kiss his cheek she froze. He lied there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, fingers slightly twitching as she held his hand.

“Ethan... you... you woke up.” She whispered a single tear escaping her right eye and sliding down her cheek. He responded by squeezing her hand with a ghost of a smile on his face. Then her eyes widened.

“You poor baby. You must be parched. Let me get you some water!” Casey exclaimed as she rushed out of the room. If he could, Ethan would be chuckling at her right now. He listened as the door opened and closed again signaling that she was back. Carefully she adjusted him to a more comfortable position for drinking water then held the straw to his lips.

“Slowly. Small sips. You haven’t drank anything in months.”

Carefully, Ethan opened his mouth enough for Casey to place the straw inside his mouth and he sipped slowly and carefully before nodding slightly to let her know he’d had enough. She took it away and placed it on the table, then turned back to him and held his hand smiling down at him. For Ethan she was the first person he had seen since waking up in the early hours of the morning. Every time he heard the handle push down for the door to open he closed his eyes again. He wanted it this way, for the first person he saw to be his girlfriend. He wanted to bask in her beauty. The way her lips were perfectly plump and soft looking every day, the way in which her hair fell naturally, framing her face like the beautiful piece of art it is. He wanted to look into her emerald eyes as she smiled at him. They had spent so much time together but entirely apart, that he didn’t want there to be another moment where they weren’t looking at each other when they were next to each other. Their moment was interrupted as the door opened.

“Casey. We came as soon as we could. How is he?” Baz asked as June closed the door.

“Awake.” She smiled.

“Has he spoken yet?” June asked.

“No. but he has had a few sips of water.” Casey tried to kick herself back into professional mode, but She was so happy that he was finally awake, she found it hard to stop smiling and be professional. She was filling in some things on his chart with June when she heard him grunting irritant. She looked up to see Baz trying to change his cannula, but it was annoying Ethan.

“Baz. I’ve got this.” Casey said handing the chart to June. She took Ethan’s hand and held the cannula in place as the tape securing it had been removed.

“Hey. What’s wrong honey?”

He tried to talk but couldn’t and just grunted angrier than before.

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay, Ethan. We aren’t expecting you to talk right away.”

He looked at her and she frowned sadly at the agony in his eyes. She looked up at June. “June, could you grab me the picture boards please. He’s trying to say something.”

“Sure. I’ll be right back.” June placed the chart on the side and left the room, returning with some laminated sheets a few moments later. Casey took them with a smile and sat next to him. His cannula now removed, and he hadn’t even noticed until Casey gave it to June in to dispose of.

“Now.” She said, professionalism now back in place. “I know that for you especially not being able to talk right now is hard. Your whole life is about talking. You could talk for the whole world for years and still be going in spirit. You’re a chatterbox. But I have some pictures and I want you to point out as best as you can what you’re trying to say.” Casey explained in a comforting tone as she held up the first sheet. Ethan’s eyes scanned the page, but he couldn’t see anything, he gestured to writing.

“You... want to write?” Casey asked and he nodded carefully. She stood up and searched for a spare piece of paper, holding it for him with something to lean on and handing him her pen. He recognized it and smiled. It was the one he had gifted her for her birthday just 2 months ago. He put the pen to paper and started writing. His hand was shaky and it took him several minutes, but Casey smiled as she read the message, looking at the wobbly smiley face and heart drawn next to it.

“I love you, too. 😊❤”

She tried to keep the tears at bay and just smile, but the emotion was overwhelming, and she had to let a few slip.

“You heard me when I said that?” she asked, looking into his eyes. He squeezed her hand tightly which made her cry even more. “You’re the first patient I’ve seen today, and you’ve made me cry!” she laughed, grabbing a few tissues from the dispenser above the sink and dabbing her eyes dry. He looked at her quizzically.

“I’m your doctor. I wouldn’t rest until I was.”

“She was...”

“Persistent.” Baz and June chipped in. and Casey chuckled more.

“Also, um... The whole hospital kinda knows about.. you know... us.”

Ethan’s eyes widened and he glared at Casey, but it was a playful glare, one that told her as soon as he could form words and sentences, she was in trouble. She grinned at him before giving him a kiss.

“As much as I’d love to stay and be in your company, I do have a job to do.”

“And a diagnostics team to run until he’s back.” Baz stated

“That’s true. After my rounds I’m going to have to become, The One That’s Feared.”

Casey, Baz and June shared a laugh then looked at Ethan, who rolled his eyes at their teasing.

“He loves us really guys.” Casey beamed and kissed his lips softly before standing up and straightening her coat. He had been restabilized again now that he was awake, and his 3 colleagues left the room, Ethan watching out of the window as they hugged and jumped happily, Casey looking over her shoulder back into the room throwing him the brightest of smiles before dispersing and continuing with her day.

 --- One and a half years later ---

Over the past year and a half as Ethan had been recovering, texting had become a large part of his life. He had been added to Casey’s group chat with her roommates and friends. She had even moved in with him to help him feel less alone during his recovery. There were hurdles, sure. But he was grateful to have such a promising young doctor by his side through it all. He insisted she shared his bed with him as they had done many nights before his accident, he even tried to convince her that it would take away all of her stress. But in a last ditch effort he made a compromise. She would share his bed on Friday and Saturday nights only. With the occasional pleasure of her joining him on a Thursday night if she left work before 8pm, which these days was rare, but he was proud of her. She had kept the diagnostics team afloat in his absence, even made a bunch of positive changes which she ran him through whenever he asked, to help him out for when he finally came back to work. Casey thought he should just not come back, after all he was almost 40 now. He hadn’t started enjoying his life until he met Casey and she wanted him to continue enjoying it. Of course, going to Edenbrook was what Ethan wanted more than anything. The idea of working alongside his girlfriend, and getting to kiss her without having to worry about rumors circulating and jeopardizing Casey’s career excited him. He could pass her in a hallway and kiss her until she was dizzy if he wanted to. He could even seek her out and ask for a ‘power hug’ if he felt low on energy.

Over the passed two months, Ethan had been coming in to sit in and watch over June, Baz and Casey as they held a number of differentials for patients, and couldn’t help but smile at the way Casey lit up as she led the team. She really hit her stride in being a leader. He would even say she was a natural born leader like himself. One lunchtime, Casey was dropping Ethan back at his apartment and making sure he was okay when he sighed.

“Are you okay baby?” Casey asked, concern on her face matching her tone.

“I...” Ethan started but couldn’t find the words, so he took a moment to think as Casey sat beside him on the couch.

“What is it? You can talk to me.” She smiled kindly at him. He looked into her eyes for a moment as he found the words.

“I... I love you.” He spoke as his voice cracked, thick with emotion.

“And I love you too sweetie. I have since our first date. But I’ve been crushing on you since I was 18.”

“No, Casey. I mean, I love you. More than that even. I adore you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and.. you’ve stuck by me when most people would have just left. I let myself die because I thought you had forgotten about me and I was ready to let you move on, you were 28 at the time. You could have-” he started rambling, but Casey put a finger to his lips, shaking her head as tears shimmered in her eyes.

“I never would have moved on from you Ethan. You... you’re my first and hopefully last and only true love. I’ve never loved anyone like you. All of our moments together. They mean so much.”

“But.. we haven’t been able to have sex in over a year. Doesn’t that make me worth leaving? If I can’t fulfil your every need what use am I as a boyfriend.”

“Ethan... It was never about the sex. Of course, it’s great and you’re... pretty big. But... sex isn’t what I’m with you for.”

“Then what are you with me for?”

“I’m with you for the man you are in here.” She tells him, placing her palm on his chest over his heart. “I’m here for him. The kind, funny, beautiful man who has a thousand walls to break through but once you get through his maze... The inside is even more beautiful than the tranquility garden at the hospital. There’s trees, bushes, butterflies... There is so much love inside and you’re willing to give it to me. I never in a thousand years thought I’d hear the day you said you’re not single with a smile on your face. And I much less thought I’d be the one you’d be talking about. Ethan, when I look at you... I can sometimes see that broken almost 12 year old boy, confused over why his mother would just leave like that. But then when you hold me. I feel and see the amazing man you’ve grown into. And I... I love him. I want to know him more and more. We could have a sexless relationship and I’d still be happy every damn day because I know deep down who you are. I know your soul. Which is worth way more than any sexual interaction we could have.”

They looked into each other’s eyes as they both let tears slip down their cheeks, matching soft smiles on their faces, before Casey leaned in, pressing a soft chaste kiss to his lips. Ethan pulled her back gently to kiss her a bit deeper, relishing in the feeling of peace she brought him. The kiss was short and sweet, but so full of love it had them both smiling from ear to ear as they opened their eyes, gazes falling on each other.

“You’re amazing Casey Valentine. Have I ever told you that?”

“Only a million, trillion times, Ethan Ramsey.” She giggled as she wrapped her arms round his neck, sitting in his lap. Ethan’s hand naturally fell around her waist, hand resting on her hip as he looked at her lovingly.

“I got you something before the accident. I was actually planning to give it to you that night. But I guess my plans were... let’s say, delayed.” Casey giggled at him as he smiled up at her. “Why don’t you go and get it for me so I can give it to you now? It’s in my top drawer in a brown paper bag.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Casey said pressing a kiss to Ethan’s lips and then disappearing into his room, gasping when she entered his room. “Ethan Jonah Ramsey! You left your dirty washing on the floor and your bed unmade! You reckless monster!”

Ethan laughed from the couch as she reappeared holding the brown paper bag out to him.

“Stay standing for me a minute.”

“O...kay?” Casey said with a slight questioning to her tone. But that soon turned into a gasp, and shock as Ethan slid from the couch down onto one knee, opening a little red velvet box, smiling up at a now very teary Casey.

“Casey. From the moment I met you I was told we’d end up here. Mainly by Naveen and my father. Closely followed by Sienna, then followed by the rest of your unruly gang of misfits who have accepted me as one of their own now. I... never felt like I belonged growing up. After Louise left. Everything went to shit, but then I met you. A bright eyed intern with creative mistakes and an unbreakable spirit no matter how hard I pushed you. I never believed in love until you, and well... as sappy and cliché as it is, you complete me. You’re smart, funny.... I could make a whole 10 minute speech, but I’ll cut to the chase. Casey Jane Valentine, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

She still couldn’t believe what was happening. She should be back at work right now, but instead she was being proposed to. She fought back her tears and swallowed some emotion as she found her voice again.

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes Ethan! I’ll be your wife!” she exclaimed happily as he took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. His face dropped as he tried to get up but realized he was stuck.

“Shit. Not the time to be getting stuck, Ethan.” He cursed himself, but Casey heard and helped him up. He stood to his full height, towering above her as he tilted her head up by hooking a finger under her chin. The moment was so pure and full of emotion that Casey had forgotten all about work.

“Ethan I...”

“Shhh. I know my little sugar plum. I wouldn’t want to live without you either.”

She smiled and closed her eyes as her head came to rest on his chest, the moment lasted for a while as they swayed to their own tune in their heads before Casey kissed him goodbye, heading for the door to go back to work.

“Cassie?”

“Hm?” she hummed, turning round to look at Ethan settled on the couch under blankets, the TV light reflecting off his face.

“Bring home pizza?”

She smiled and shook her head at him shamelessly. “Of course, sire.” She said regally and curtsied. It was Ethan’s turn to shake his head as he looked at her. “Seriously... I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He said as Casey waved goodbye, leaving him to watch TV until she returned. Hopefully with the pizza he wanted in tow.

[nekokoaa]

Wolves Among Us - Bakugo x Reader (XI)

Wolves Among Us – Bakugo x Reader

Series Warning: Fantasy AU, Fluff, NSFW

(Chapter XI/??) All chapters in AO3 and masterlist

Hey guys! It's been a while! Sorry about that. School's a killer. Thank you guys for being so patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

PS: The title of this chapter is a play on the phrase “the pot calling the kettle black”. I honestly didn't know what to name this chapter but I thought this fit the best and I was trying to be all creative lol

Chapter Warning: I guess a bit of blood?

Taglist: Edit*** Totally forgot to add this whoops DDX If you read this chapter ignore the tag lol******

@freedom-for-bum @reallyfuckingangrylatina @risarisarisaa @ashherssss @mels-heart @xa-dia @shanty-lol @amkxh @chims-kookies @fantasticapple @thalia-luna-hawthorn

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

XI: The Human Calling the Wolf Beast

Staring at the cavernous hole between his legs was a reminder for Izuku how old and raggedy the outhouse was. Tall wooden walls closed around him. They were rotting with age as a green substance took over the wood’s natural gray color. Izuku had questioned how this place was still standing with the amount of snow storms they had over the months and even the spiders cuddled within their webs in the upper corners of the outhouse had deemed this place safe against the outside forces. The urge to sleep was still upon him that he had not yet realized he had emptied his bladder. He stayed staring into the abyss under him, the sights beyond it shrouded in darkness, he would not know of the amount of defecation huddled at the bottom, nor in this state, did he care.

With a quick shake of his cock in his hands, he stuffed it under the rims of his pants, lifting the waistline until it hugged just under his waist. He exited the outhouse, its door creaking loudly as soon as it was touched, and he kneeled in front of a pile of snow and began to lather his hands in it. It was something his mother taught him whenever there wasn’t any water around to wash his hands. He knew most men would’ve carried on without their hands ever touching water after using the bathroom, and he wanted to believe he wasn’t like most men as what his mother would’ve said. You’re not like most men, Izuku. He heard from time to time again usually whenever he helped her with cooking or cleaning, it wasn’t said as an insult but rather a delightful compliment, pleased at her son for what he has grown up to be.

He wondered what she was doing now. He left her without a word but left a note by the kitchen table under the constraints of a fork. Perhaps, she would read it and leave searching for him or would trust his judgement, ultimately trusting him. Whichever the case, Izuku knew his mother tended to be as soft as him (it was where he got it from), but he believed hidden behind that softness was uncontained determination and once she worked towards a goal, it would be completed with failures and all.

He had a similar outlook. His goal was to find you and so he did, but now he questioned what would come after. Would you still be able to come back to the village despite them declaring you dead?

Izuku sighed inaudibly as the snow crunched under his boots before he reached the backdoor of the cabin. He kicked his boots against the wooden floors, the snow falling from his hooves and left behind at the door. Unfortunately, the cabin didn’t have any lanterns on the walls of its hallway, so the trail of darkness continued to pour through the cabin. Izuku had thought ahead and the tray of a candle he left at the floor was picked up and relit by a match. He walked down the hall, past the kitchen while the floorboards creaked under his weight and in between the bathing room and the kitchen was his room, its door was left ajar. Right across his room was your room and before he could retire for the night, he heard faint sounds coming from behind your door.

At first, he hesitated. He wasn’t sure about a man going into a woman’s room in the late of night. Yes, he grew up with you and there were plenty of days where he slept in your room as a child and vice versa but now as adults, as sexuality buds, even being in close proximity of a person’s room of the opposite sex was a little nerve-wracking.

He was about to abandon the idea to check up on you, already grasping his doorknob and pushing his door open until:

“H-Help…!” A terrible shriek had come.

It wasn’t a second longer until Izuku threw your door open. He expected the worst, like a robber had snuck in while he was using the bathroom or perhaps that wolf from hell was back to torment you and him again. But instead, he stumbled upon you on your bed, tousled limbs in the air as if you were possessed. You were shrieking, tears drowning your face, and dripping onto the mattress as well as your blood that was oddly seeping through the bandages.

He called your name in distress, placing the candle down on a table before grabbing you up by your arms. You started fighting his hold, thrashing your arms to where it nearly hit him in the face. “Wake up! It’s a dream!” He sounded desperate, afraid that if he used any more of his strength that he would hurt you in the process.

“Katsuki…!” You began calling for the wolf from hell and Izuku’s heart sank. How could you still think of him in a positive light when he put you in this position? When he hurt you? He gulped, putting those thoughts behind him when your eyes had shot open. He assumed the fighting would stop, but your eyes being open wasn’t a signifier that you were awake. The screaming remained, the fighting remained, and the calling of a certain wolf’s name remained.

Izuku was suddenly reminded of a moment in time where you had woken up from a fright. Around the age of 5, you woke up crying, reaching out to a startled small Izuku besides you. You were aware you were awake, but you cried for your mother instead, even though she was already dead by that time. Young Izuku, as chivalrous as he was during that age, started to shush you, pulling you into a hug and rubbing your back as you sobbed into his chest. It worked as a spell, quieting you down to whimpers as soft as Izuku’s whispers. “It’s okay, ____... I’m here. I’m right next to you…”

So, he held you close to his chest despite your thrashing and his hand held the back of your head, your hair fell between his fingers, and his lips softly pressed against your temple. He brought his other hand over your back, large fingers treading over your shoulders.

“Shh… I’m right here. I’m here…” His breath bounced against your heated forehead when he spoke, his voice smooth like pudding as he pressed his lips to your head again. And just like long ago, you settled down in his arms, returning his hug weakly, your fingers clutched at his back until his shirt crinkled in your grip.

No matter who you called for, as long as Izuku was there, he would embrace you until all was well again.

…

You have never seen the sky so blue before as it hovered over your body, infinite vastness of sapphire stretched past the horizon, beyond the mountains and hills below. The wind swooshed below you, whipping through your hair as it wildly hit your cheeks. It tangled within the air above you, moved by the force from below. Your stomach felt like it was floating in your body, weightless as it twisted and churned the feathery feeling that danced around in your midsection.

How long has it been since you were falling? You couldn’t recall, but it felt like eons since you were on the ground.

…

Izuku was up tending your wound for hours. Before he knew it, the sun had risen into skies covered with thick clouds and heavy snowflakes plummeted to the ground. The chattering of the doors and windows were a reminder of how strong this storm had grown overnight. The cabin could no longer keep the cold out as it was seeping through the tiny cracks between the walls. Already, Izuku could feel you shivering yet he did not know whether it was from the cold or the fever that developed overnight. He knew your wound was quite grave, but he didn’t know it would’ve resulted in a fever. The odd part for him was that no matter how much pressure he added or how tight he wrapped the bandages; your wound wouldn’t stop bleeding. At this rate, you would die from blood loss in just a few hours.

Izuku’s panic urged him to move swiftly, wrapping clean bandages for the umpteenth time around your arm. He was already running out of stock and soon decided it was time to go out to the nearest town to buy some more bandages, ointments, and hopefully stitches.

“I won’t be gone for long,” he whispered, bringing a hand to briefly brush your bangs off your forehead. It was devastating how some strands stuck to your skin because of your sweat. Your skin lacked your usual vibrant color and was left with a pale variant of it. The skin under your eyes were darkened, leaving a sickly appearance if one were to gaze at you. At times, you would wake up, spewing incoherent mumbles before falling back to sleep. It was like your body was desperately trying to conserve all of your energy to heal you, so you couldn’t stay awake for more than a few minutes.

Just as you grew sicker by the hour, Izuku’s hatred for Katsuki grew to new heights. He began cursing the wolf for what he has done to you. As much as he blamed Katsuki, he blamed himself for the lack of courage he had to save you from him. He should’ve been more protective of you when he started to notice your obsession with wolves. Maybe he could’ve convinced you not to pursue your curiosity and you being deemed dead by the village wouldn’t have happened. Regretting the past did nothing to the results of the present. And so, he would have to live with his guilt until you somehow recovered from this.

Izuku soon left you, throwing on his heavy coat stuffed to the brim with cotton and lined with sheep wool. He slipped on his boots that he left near the door of your room and grabbed a small pouch packed with his money off the table. He quickly made his way to the front of the cabin. Already, he could hear the whistling of the harsh wind outside blowing through the trees and against the cabin, but he wouldn’t let that stop him. His mind was already set on going, he risked his life once for you and he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

The cabin door was thrown open by the force of the wind once Izuku had unlocked it. The snow began assaulting the wooden floors, piling on top of itself until it created tiny hills. Izuku panicked at the amount of snow that was already in the cabin and he threw himself outside to try to get the door to close.

But he didn’t get far as he was stopped by a figure that was standing just a bit from the cabin. Not even the snow pelting the ground or the fog lingering in the area was prominent enough to hide the beauty of the woman standing in front of him. Her skin was as pale as the snow around her while her cheeks were the opposite and tinted with bright pink. Her lips were small, her nose was small, but her eyes were large, bright, and rich in brown and her eyelashes worked as curtains for them. Her hair was in a bob that curled at the ends against her cheeks and the color of her hair reminded him of almonds. His favorite snack.

“What are you doing out here? It’s dangerous!” He tried to yell over the howl of the wind, but it was impossible. The storm was too powerful. So, he grabbed the woman by her shoulders and ushered her inside the cabin and with all his might, he pulled the door against the wind and locked it shut, letting out a heavy sigh of relief when he leaned his forehead against it. He felt it was vibrating softly, just another reminder at how brutal the storm was. He thought this woman was crazy for being out there, but he assumed the worst. Maybe she needed help or didn’t have shelter from the storm. He was about to question her, but she spoke first.

“You’re Izuku, right?”

“H-How…?” His words faltered when he turned around to face the woman and spotted almond colored wolf ears sitting on top of her head. He blinked at them for a moment, questioning their appearance as they weren’t there when he first spotted her. He almost shrieked at the sight of them, but he held his composure, breathing deeply before he narrowed his eyes at her. There could only be one reason why a wolf would suddenly show up at this cabin.

“What do you want? You couldn’t possibly be here to see her.”

“What makes you think I’m not?” She wasn’t surprised at his hostility. He was human after all. “I wanted to see if she was still alive…”

Why do you care? Was what he wanted to say but he held his tongue for reasons struck by fear. She wasn’t as threatening as Katsuki, but she was still a wolf. “Of course, she is. But she’s hurt… I’m sure you know how. You were probably there.”

“Yes, I was.”

“I’m sorry, but I was going to go out and buy some medicine for her. So, if you would—”

“It won’t work.”

“What?”

“She won’t be healed by that.”

“What do you mean…?” Izuku hated the look on her face. How her brows knitted together and formed the creases between her eyes. It didn’t match with her beauty. She looked up at him like she was begging for him to hear her out. He found himself complying, no longer able to stand her expression. With a nod, he led her to your room and he couldn’t forget the look in her eyes when she saw you. The color of your skin spoke of your lifespan. At best, a day was all you had left.

“This is horrible…” Izuku heard her mumble as she squeezed her hands into fists. She couldn’t believe the drastic change of your appearance. Just a couple of days ago you were vibrant and gushing about Katsuki to her. Even though you were upset at him, she still saw the love blossomed in your eyes whenever you spoke of him. You always found a reason to talk about him even if it was just a rant. And the moments where you would suddenly daze off, she had no doubt in her mind that it was Katsuki filling your thoughts.

“How did you find us anyway?”

“Her blood. I followed the scent of her blood.”

“Ah—O-Okay,” Izuku scratched the side of his head. It wasn’t that he was confused but more taken aback by her response. It wasn’t everyday where you hear of someone tracking by the scent of blood. Wolves were truly different when compared to humans. “So… would you mind explaining what you meant before? Why wouldn’t medicine work for her?”

She sighed heavily, turning her large brown eyes on Izuku. “Katsuki—I’m sure you know—the wolf from yesterday? He—He’s special. He’s not like the rest of us. He’s the direct descendant of our ancestor and next in line as pack leader. Because of that, Katsuki inherited abilities from him. We call it ‘The Curse of Fenrir’.”

“The Curse of Fenrir…?” It sounded terrifying to Izuku, but it grew his curiosity.

“Yes, sometimes we just call it ‘The Curse’ but if a human gets hurt by Katsuki, any damage inflicted by his claws or fangs would never heal.”

“Never heal…?”

“At least not with medicine or on its own. Katsuki himself would have to heal the wound by cleaning it.”

“So, the only way for ____ to be healed is if that wolf does it.”

Ochako nodded, “I tried to convince Katsuki to do it but… he’s still upset about what happened.”

“She’s going to die any day now and he won’t heal her? I-I have to go convince him… I—” Izuku began gathering his things and before he could trudge past Ochako, she grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“I have no doubt if Katsuki sees you, he’ll kill you. Right now, you should stay by her side. I’ll try and talk to him again—"

“I can’t just sit here and watch her die. I have to at least do something!”

“I’m not asking you to. Katsuki,” she tried to find the words with a brief bite of her lips. “Katsuki cares about her. He wouldn’t let her die. I know he wouldn’t.”

“This is the same wolf who did this to her. I refuse to believe I have to only rely on such a b-beast to save my friend.”

It was odd. Ochako the other day was calling Katsuki the same thing yet hearing it from Izuku had lit a small flame of anger within her. It didn’t feel like it was only towards Katsuki but towards her kind as a whole.

“Beast? You hardly know him, or us, matter of fact,” she spoke with a growl in her voice.

“After what he did, how can he be anything other than that?”

“You sound as if humans never acted irrational before. For all the havoc you guys cause, from destroying lands, nature, and my people, why aren’t you considering yourselves beasts?”

Izuku’s silence spoke volumes. He stared back at Ochako, stunned by her words.

“That’s because you humans only ever look at yourselves and never consider the differences around you. We may be ‘beasts’ but that doesn’t mean we don’t have emotions like humans. We live just like you, eat just like you, we have family like you. Katsuki getting angry for seeing a woman he likes in the arms of another man doesn’t make him a beast because I’m sure you humans would’ve reacted the same way.”

“I was only speaking of him.”

“Speaking of him is speaking of all of us.”

Izuku frowned. The anger in his eyes falter significantly and what was left was pure guilt about his words. “I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—"

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “I’m just... tired of this divide. We’re practically cousins by species but it seems like we’ll never get along.”

“Maybe a lot of forgiveness and forgetfulness would do the trick?” Izuku shrugged his shoulders with a smile all too pure that it evaporated any anger she previously felt towards him. She had never seen a smile so kind, at least, from a human (other than you) that was directed at her.

“Probably, we’ll need a lot of it, for sure,” she laughed.

…

Katsuki had enough. It was easier to say that he could forget about you after your ‘betrayal’ but he found himself wondering about your wellbeing more than he would’ve liked. No woman had ever had this effect on him before. He was always able to forget about them. But for you, he couldn’t help but feel attached to you. Even as he laid on the sheep wool bedding, turning around he half expected to see you asleep by his side. But when he saw nothing but the cave’s walls ahead, he knew he could no longer handle being away from you.

Katsuki knew of his abilities and he knew when he had slashed you, it was possible that it would’ve been the last time he saw you alive. His stubbornness kept him from chasing after you. In fact, he was afraid to admit that at that time, he believed you were better off dead than in the arms of another man. It scared him greatly at how attached he felt to you that he would rather wish for your death than for you to be away from him.

But he came to realize at that moment when Ochako stormed out of his cave in tears after his threats and the air of his cave was reduced of your scent the longer you were absent from it, he questioned if this was truly how he wanted to live. A life without you seemed impossible when you were with him and now it could very much be his reality.

…

“I’ll try to convince Katsuki. I know he won’t let her die.”

Izuku was seeing Ochako to the door. His eyebrows furrowed at the sound of the raging wind outside. The door was chattering at the force of it. “Are you sure you’ll be okay traveling in this storm?”

“Yeah, of course,” she chuckled softly. “I’m a wolf, remember?”

It didn’t matter what she was, Izuku was still worried. He leaned against the wall and buried his hands within his pants pockets. “I know, still, be careful out there, Ochako.”

Ochako smiled. She never had someone so concerned about her wellbeing before especially not a human. All they did was run at the sight of her or try to kill her but to have one worry about her even after knowing her capabilities as a wolf was a refreshing feeling. “I will be.”

Izuku gave her a small smile before she left into the blistering weather and faded into the fog. It was a hassle closing the door but Izuku managed with his strength and locked it before he retired back to your room.

…

As the night started settling into the day, the storm had reached its peak. The winds were blowing at high speeds capable of knocking anyone off their feet. Fog and snow obscure all sight as no one could barely see a few inches in front of them. Walking outside was a death sentence for any human.

But not for wolves.

Katsuki hiked through the forest as if he weren’t phased by the forces of nature. The winds may be slowing down his speed, but the fog and snow only slightly obscured his vision. Even his sense of smell was still functioning normally as he followed the scent of blood that was being carried with the wind. It was sweet and awfully familiar, and it made his mouth water with desire. Katsuki knew exactly who it belong to.

He followed the scent until it led him to a cabin that was slowly being buried by the snow. A quarter of the front door was already submerged in it, but it didn’t stop Katsuki from figuring out another way in. He followed where the scent of blood was most prominent to the side of the cabin and there was a window in which he effortlessly lifted open and climb inside.

His crimson eyes had zeroed in on nothing in the room but the person lying in bed, pale and nearly lifeless. That person was you. He refused to believe that’s what you’ve become because of him. You were a person so vibrant and beautiful that it could nearly make Katsuki cry at the sight of your presence and now you lacked the light that made you shine—that made Katsuki love you.

He walked to you. The wooden flooring creaked under his weight with his slow steps. Even as he tried to walk without making a sound, being gentle was just one thing Katsuki couldn’t do correctly. He regretted the moment he got closer to you because he saw the discoloring around your eyes and the cold sweat damping your pale skin. You were lying on your back without any covers and the wound on your arm that was wrapped in bandages were being soaked with your blood. The sweet smell lingered around the room no doubt making Katsuki’s mouth water, but he was too deep in his sorrow to act on his urges.

What kind of lover was he to hurt you like this? To make you suffer until you were tethering in and out of the underworld? He yearned to see your smile again, your smile that made his heart flutter in ways it had never before, to look at him with your bright eyes that embodied the feeling of love only for him, to have you in his arms again, so small and fragile yet fit perfectly within them. And the sound of your voice when you would call his name had him wishing he could listen to it on repeat.

Katsuki’s hands formed into fists, his claws dug into his palms so hard that it punctured his skin and his blood slipped between his clenched fingers and fell upon the floor. He fucked up. He fucked up so bad that he couldn’t see how he deserved to stay with you. You didn’t deserve someone like him. Someone who would hurt his lover because he couldn’t control his anger. How could he possibly protect you if he couldn’t protect you from himself?

A low growl had sounded from him and already the wound on his hands had healed up on their own. Katsuki sat on your bed and grabbed your injured arm. He unwrapped the bandages and revealed the gash that showed no signs of healing. He grimaced at it, not because of its grotesque appearance but because he was the one who had caused it.

He didn’t hesitate to drag his tongue on your wound, gasping and growling at the delicious taste that had his saliva spilling from his lips. But he couldn’t enjoy it like the last time he had taste your blood. He moved desperately, diligently with a goal to cure you of this curse.

You, on the other hand, had stirred in your long slumber with your eyebrows furrowed and teeth biting lips. Your pale complexion became flush in color, panting and mewling at the feeling of Katsuki’s tongue against you. He couldn’t tell if you were in pain or pleasure, but he couldn’t stop the fuzzy feeling building within his loins. You moaned softly, breathlessly and Katsuki glanced at your face with his glowing red eyes as he licked and licked until his face was drenched in your blood.

“K-Katsuki… aahn…” Katsuki could see it. He could see the soft rolling of your hips. It was not pain you were feeling. It was far from it.

Yet he continued to lick, ignoring the desire rumbling within him. After how badly he treated you, you still thought of him as a lover. He was still someone you thought of the moment you felt pleasure and that stirred something within him that he couldn’t quite name.

He growled softly, nearly losing himself in your moans. He cleaned your wound until there was nothing but three discolored scars left. He made sure it was clean of all your blood. He wasn’t going to leave one drop of it on your skin. And when he was done, he pulled away and found you panting, flushed, and mumbling his name deliriously in your slumber. He soaked in your appearance knowing that this was going to be the last time he’ll ever see it. He decided back at his cave that he was going to heal you and then leave you. It was the best form of action he had to take for your sake. You weren’t safe with him.

Though it was a struggle for him to leave you. Your complexion was returning to normal and your breathing was finally in control. You were already starting to look like yourself again. Even the feel of your skin underneath his palm when he had reached out to caress your cheek was reaching normal temperatures. Katsuki whispered your name. It sounded so soft that it could break before it reached anyone’s ears, but it was also weighed with guilt, love, and hesitation. For once in his life, he was unsure. Can he actually live without you?

“I’m sorry…” He grunted out when he had hovered over you and pushed his forehead against yours, noses touching and lips barely brushing against each other. He repeated those words until he was satisfied as his face contorted into one of pain with knitted eyebrows and gritted teeth. He ripped himself off of you with a growl and still he was unsure. But hesitation didn’t stop him from turning his back on you. He was leaving. He had to.

Katsuki dragged himself to the window and he rewarded himself with one final glance at your sleeping form to burn you in his memory.

But what he didn’t expect to see was you staring right back at him with those beautiful half-lidded eyes that he ached to see.

“Shit.”

Oof. 

I'll be honest, I love-hate writing this chapter and I'm not sure why lol WELP I'm excited for the next chapter cause It's gonna be awesome. I'm tired of this angst, aren't you guys? Thank you guys so much for reading!! Until next chapter, loves.

[poes-and-things]

Bugs on Skin

It wasn’t a good day.

I’d stubbed my toe twice working around the kitchen, and Leo’s constant shadow act was driving me up the wall.  The air was clammy, sticky, making my skin stick to my shirt but it was the middle of December.  My hair was tied up on my head, but the weight was creating a headache.  Down, it was overheating my neck and getting in my face.  I normally hated doing dishes, but this had turned into some means of torture.  I abandoned them after getting halfway through, knowing he would finish the rest.

I moved to the bedroom to hear my phone start vibrating on the bed.  A message from Makenzie.  A tone deaf message from Makenzie.  A reply to an annoyed message I’d sent her hours previous.  Her annoying response of “At least you have a boyfriend” made my blood boil as hot as the air in the room.  I tossed it aside and moved on.

I hadn’t felt this way in a while.  Things had been really good, amazing, since we’d moved in.  It had taken a while—he wasn’t very trusting by nature.  But things had started to change at work.  My parents were jumping down my throat.  We’d been in the apartment for six months now and I needed to get the hell out of there.  I needed to go for a run but that was something I had never gotten into.  My skin crawled like bugs were wandering the surface of it.  My breath was coming out in little gasps.

He slammed the door when he got home.  I heard his cry of apology right after it happened, the thud of boots on the floor, the crinkle of plastic as he wandered with groceries into the kitchen.  I could hear Leo’s nails hitting the tile floor, the clinking of his tags as he moved.  I could feel my blood boiling under my skin as I picked up discarded clothes off the floor and tossed them into the hamper.  I could feel the water push against the flood gates, ready to break through.

“Hey honey,” his voice said, dragging over my skin like nails on a chalkboard.  I think I visibly winced.

“Hey,” I ground out, dry like chalk, gravelly as if it had been caught in my throat.

“Did you have an okay day at home?  I’m sorry I had to leave…” his voice trailed off as I pushed past him to take our clothes to the washing machine, our hamper overfilled and needing to be taken care of.  Leo kept out of my way.  I’m sure he shared a look with Ian.

I started shoving clothes into the machine.  I could feel him hovering behind me and I just needed him to go, to clean the fucking dishes, to do SOMETHING that wasn’t watching me and making the number of bugs on my skin increase tenfold.

“Honey?” he asked, softly, barely a whisper.

I wasn’t like this when he left.

“What?” I spat.

“Nothing.”

The pressure left.  The sink turned on and my shoulders rolled involuntarily against the discomfort of the water on the metal sink, the clanking of the plates.  My breath escaped me in a huff.  I threw more clothes into the machine.  The hamper was full of white and light pastel colors.  I shoved around the cabinets, found detergent.  Slammed it into the machine.

The water turned off.  I took a deep breath.  I moved the dials, turned the machine on.  Ground my teeth at the sound of it working.  God I hated this.  I wasn’t a housewife.  This wasn’t my life.  This couldn’t be what I was destined for.

A hand touched my back and I shrugged out of it, turned and ran into a wall.

His smell overwhelmed me.  Soft and strong at once.  It reminded me of that morning, lying in bed, my head on his chest as he laughed at something dumb I said.  His hands had stroked my arms, fingers rested in my hair.  The thought of it made the bugs on my skin crawl faster.

“What is happening.  Talk to me,” he commanded, the gruffness of his voice punctuating the seriousness of his concern.  I wanted to scream at him.  I wanted to hit him.  I couldn’t even look at him.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.  What is happening.”

“NOTH. ING.”

My eyes looked up into his.  I could feel mine burning.  His were cool with concern and annoyance.  The blue was light, catching the awful fluorescents of the laundry room.  He hadn’t changed out of his uniform.

“Bullshit,” he said again.  A soft word.  Said with love.  I wanted to smack him.

“I need space.”

He shook his head.  “No.  Talk to me.”

I tried to turn away but his hands grabbed me to keep me there and I could breathe fire.  I wanted to scream from the roof.  I wanted to beat his chest.  I wanted to kick and to pull and to break something.  For the love of GOD I wanted to break something.  I cried instead.

Which made him panic.  I watched as his expression shifted from concerned annoyance to worried panic.  The tears rolled down my cheek silently.  I knew I looked ridiculous, my expression screwed up into one of anger with hot tears rolling down my face.  I looked insane.

He released me.

“Put shoes on,” he commanded.  “We’re getting out of here.  Go to the car.”

The last thing I wanted to do was listen to him, but he arched an eyebrow, daring me to resist.  I huffed instead, angrily wiped at my face, enraging the bugs, and brushed past him to grab a pair of tennis shoes.

He took care of Leo while I waited by the car.  My arms were folded over my chest, my leg kept moving to the rhythm of the feet on my skin.  Very fast.  Staccato.  A scream rested in my chest, waiting to be released.

Moments passed.  He had changed into a pair of jeans.  Motioned for me to get into the truck.  I did.  Sat close to the door.  He told me to choose the music.  I put on Five Finger Death Punch.  He said nothing.  I watched the landscape as we drove.  He said nothing about my attitude.  Nothing about work.  Nothing about my lack of coat in -10 weather.  My skin was crawling.  My eyes had already leaked tears of weakness.  I wanted to scream and he was sitting there silently.

He pulled into a parking spot outside of a building it took me a second to recognize.  He reached into the backseat of his truck, into the clutter I intentionally ignored, and pulled out a couple cases.  His guns.

“Get out,” he said.  I stayed put.  “Sophie, I swear to God get out of the goddamn truck.”

I looked back at him to see a carefully neutral face.  I wanted to hit him.  I opened the door and got out, my feet hidden in snow, my leggings immediately wet.  My arms, naked to the air, wrapped around me.  I moved forward, knowing the building would be warm.  Something hit my head and fell in the snow.  His sweatshirt.  I put it on.  Enveloped by him, by his smell, I took a deep breath I didn’t realize I was holding.  The hand around my heart that I didn’t realize was there loosened a bit.  Relaxed a touch.  I focused on the smell, not the feeling of the bugs as I followed him into the shooting range.

He set me up in the lane next to him.  Gave me his .9 mm.  The guy working the place had given me glasses and a set of headphones.  I hadn’t wanted to wear them but a look from Ian and they were donned.  He also gave me two boxes of bullets.  Told me he was in the lane to my right if I needed him.

The first time he took me to the range I was nervous and stumbled a lot.  Back then, it had been years since I’d fired a gun.  He had to remind me what to do.  I remember it being very hands on, very quiet, very calm.  I remember making out with him in his truck afterwards.  The food we got even later.  The sex we had in his kitchen, on the couch, against the wall.  I remember going to the range weeks later and being more sure of myself.  When I moved in we tried to go at least once a month, a means of release.

I loaded the chamber, aimed, and fired.  I fired until there was nothing left.  I reloaded, aimed, and fired until there was nothing left.  I let the heavy, cottony recoil of the gun wash over me, pull the bugs from my skin, cleanse my soul of the anger, of the frustration.  I took deep breaths to make precise shots.  I made my clusters close and neat and forgot about the grating noise of the water from the faucet hitting the metal sink.  I let the frustration roll off of me in waves.

When the boxes of bullets were empty, I paused for a moment, looked at the targets across the way.  I was breathing heavily, the gun heavy in my hand.

He was there, then.  His chest was against my back and I leaned against him, exhausted from it all.  I let him take the gun from my hands and put it on the counter.  I let him turn me around, press my face against his chest to smell him in.  I wrapped my arms around him, stabilizing myself, finding my center.  I took a deep breath and realized it was raspy and ragged, and that his shirt was wet.  We were rocking back and forth, one of his hands petting my head.  He leaned away for a moment, said something to the guy to the left of us and then pulled me along, into a hallway, down a hallway, into a quiet room.  The restroom.  The ladies restroom.  My crying was louder here, vibrating off the walls.  He pulled the headphones off and put them on the counter.  He did the same thing with the glasses.  His rested next to mine, I’m sure.

We slid down the wall.  I was sitting in his lap curled up against his chest, sobbing into his army issued t-shirt.  He hadn’t even changed his shirt.  He hadn’t even changed his shirt.

“What is it, honey?” he asked, his voice soft as a cloud.

I’d stopped crying.

“Everything was so loud,” I whispered, almost to add effect but really because I hated the sound of my own voice.  “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

His arms wrapped around me tighter.  I knew he needed more of an explanation.

“I couldn’t sort through the thoughts,” I continued.  “It gets like that sometimes.  Everyone wants something from me: my students, the administration, my parents, their parents, the dog.  It was just too much.”

“We can tell them no,” he said softly against my hair, through my curls.  “We can tell them we need space.”

“That will break my mom,” I told him honestly.

“But I don’t want you to break,” he said.

“I won’t,” I promised.

“But you did.”

I leaned back and looked up at his face.  His brows were pulled together, his blue eyes dark with worry and fear and sadness.  I wanted those eyes to clear up, to return to their light blue from the morning.  I wanted to bathe in those eyes, to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry.

“It was never you,” I whispered.  I didn’t blink so he knew I was telling the truth.

A breath he’d been holding that neither of us had noticed released then.  I knew I needed to tell him that sooner, but I couldn’t find the words.  I couldn’t get the bugs to go away.

“I know,” he said, even though we both knew he wasn’t sure.  He kissed my forehead.

“I’ll call Rusty,” I promised.

“I’ll talk to your parents,” he also promised.  “We’ll make this work.”

I nodded against his forehead, let his breath mingle with mine for a bit.

We sat there for what felt like hours.  I’d hated earlier that morning when he’d received a call about being needed on base.  I’d hated watching him put his clothes on, run out the door.  He had forgotten to kiss me goodbye.  I’d hated lying in bed by myself.  Hated answering the phone to my mother’s innocent yet invasive questions.  Hated hearing that my older brother and his wife were also coming.  Hated that I wasn’t with Ian because he had to be on base.  Everything turned sour.  But on the floor of that restroom, things started to get better.  We breathed each other in enough so that I could find my feet, so that he could go collect his guns.  I smiled weakly at the owner who gave Ian a clap on the back.  Let him hold my hand as he ushered me into the snow.  Allowed him to wrap himself around me as I realized it was fucking freezing.  Took the guns so he could better shield me.  I even let him play Cody Johnson on the way home, his hand laced with mine on his leg.

Leo was waiting for us, his chocolate brown eyes filled with worry, his salt & pepper coat ruffled with concern.  The dishes were done.  The wash as well.  But I let him pull us into the bedroom and return to the covers from that morning.

[herald-divine-hell]

A Breath of Hope

A/N: This is probably shit. 

Palely, bars of silver washed over the grass-studded earth, tinting it in a sheen of light. Darkness withered with the flickering of white, burning stars, hanging high above in the black dome of the sky. The waning moon was as slick as a curved blade, cascading the world in white-silver light. 

Saved for the gold-crimson flame that burned over a candle, the thin silver fingers that slipped through the windows were the only things that gave Leliana the ability to see her writing. Tapping her pen against the rim of an inkwell, she could feel the tiredness in her bones, tugging heavily. A few ravens crocked, echoing in the uppermost floor of the rotunda like high-pitched cracks of thunder. 

She rubbed her temples, inhaling a sharp breath, and closed her eyes. There were less reports that she had expected. More mundane, then anything else, in truth. Words that spoke of intriguing gossip, rumors, and scandalous information. While an enjoyable read, some she noted to share with Josephine, none were the ones she desired most of all. She hasn’t been writing. 

The thought did little to ease the terror that rose in her heart, like a great wave of unquestioning horror. The Inquisitor was not known to dawdle in her reports. Often than not, Leliana would find herself encompassed by hundred upon hundreds of letters, detailed-rich and with issuance that could relieve the worry that plagued her heart and mind. But no such letter had came of late, and Leliana found herself in a cavern of darkening thoughts and cruel whispers. Images of Alexandra, broken and bloodied, dying on a field a thousand miles away from Skyhold were the most vivid and recurring. 

Leliana expelled the darken thought with a soft breath. Her fingers and knuckles burned, tightened around the pen, and shook. The fear mangled her heart, grasping at it with a cruel, iron-fist grip. She had faith that Alexandra would write to her. There was always the possibility of the messenger raven dying by a rogue, hunting arrow or losing its way in the vastness of Thedas’ skies. She was fine, her heart said softly, pushing against that terrible grip. Alexandra could had died in Haven, but she did not. Sometimes, Leliana truly believed she had been sent by the Maker. She’s stronger than she looks. Much more. At times, Leliana forgotten that.

She laid her pen down, the ink seeping into a cloth at her side, spreading like thick tendrils of black across a sea of snow. She rested her head in her hands, closing her eyes. The thoughts shot and came like flashes of malicious lightning. Some dwindled into nothingness, too bleak to stand on its own. Others lingered, laughing as Leliana suffered. 

Something warm cascaded down her cheeks, like burning streamlets across flushed-pink mountains. Alexandra was alive. She would not die. She would write to her. She will. A battle erupted in her mind, drawing and hurling words of savagery and hope against one another. A never ending feud of dismay and sweet yearning. 

Leliana knew that Alexandra could take care of herself, but there were times that she wished she was there, in the ensuing battlefield, at her lover’s side. What did she tell her before, at Haven? If I had went with her, I would have blinded my eyes and deafened my ears. Perhaps that was true, that she would be merely a hindrance if she rode with Alexandra into a world of blood and darkness, that the Inquisition needed her more here than it did out there. Still, the terror would not leave her, no matter how hard she might push. It remained there, mocking. 

She did not remember pushing herself from desk, nor did she recall wandering down the twining steps of the rotunda. 

Leliana even forgot the candle.

Moonlight scattered over the floor, like sheer sheets of silver and white. There was enough light for Leliana to see where she was heading. Few torches burned late at such an hour. Most twinkled with flames of gold and crimson, dying and withering, but just enough that it cast an amber flush against the gray, stone walls. Her steps echoed, bouncing like an empty melody. 

In the darkness of night, Skyhold found some peace away from the bubbling parties and the pounding cries of metal-meeting-metal. The fortress-castle slept with only the whistling wind as a soft lullaby. Leliana could hear the grazing, brittle fingers crawling over the stony surface of Skyhold, striking hard against the windows of the fortress-castle. 

The Great Hall was empty, as silent and motionless as a crypt. Still, flames burned in braziers on iron-curved legs. The heaping coals shot embers into the air like balls of fire, searing through the darkness. Withering, the dancing orange-golden fingers mixed with the silver light of the moon that slanted through the high-perched windows at the end of the hall, above the throne of the Inquisitor. 

For a few moments, Leliana stared at the throne. The dragon maw was shrouded in darkness, with the teeth that jagged out of the throne’s armrests glittering dimly from the light of the flames. The Nightingale saw her love seated on the throne, one leg crossed over the other, head inclined slightly to the left with a playful, amused smirk on her lips. Her hands itched and her heart yearned. She knew it was a hopeful sight that greeted her - that is was not truly her love. But the teasing smile caused Leliana’s own lips to curl upward. 

The mirage fluttered away when Leliana stepped forward, slithering into nothingness. A pang tugged at her heart, and she pushed it away. She still felt the dry, ghost remains of the tears she shed on her cheeks. She would not cry, not here, at least. 

Passing through the Great Hall, Leliana stepped into the doorway that led to the stairs of the tower. She tread lightly upward, the sounds metal greaves meeting hard stone roared all around her. Every few flights of stairs, she would find a door, and there she crept quitter, until walked passed it to another stairway. Up and up she went, until she slipped through the door of the Inquisitor’s bedchambers. The opening of the tower allowed the wind to bit at Leliana’s features. Perhaps we should try to fix that, she thought, glancing out to the blue-black sky and heavy bodies of the Frostbacks, clad in shadow. The wind sang thinly and piercing in her ears, like the wailing of children.  

Slipping through the door and striding up the stairs that led to the widening square of the Inquisitor’s bedchambers, Leliana released a sigh of relief. A weight seemed to have lifted from her shoulders. The aching and tiredness of before seemed to have relented. A fire still burned in the hearth, twirling hands of orange and gold and crimson, indication of the servants keeping the room warmed even after the Inquisitor’s departure.  

She plucked off the silver brooch engraved with the seeing eye of the Maker, and tugged her velvet purple hood over her shoulders. Unlacing the straps of leather that held her armor together, Leliana felt the warmth of the fire against the skin of her neck. Then she slid her feet out of the greaves and slipped out of her breeches, the warm air licking against her thighs, tingling the goose bump-ridden skin. 

Leliana threw off her tunic, pacing to the wardrobe of the Inquisitor. It had almost became a nightly ritual. To slip out of the armor of power to the linen of rest. The Spymaster had not realize when it exactly had begun. 

Pulling the nobs of the drawer, Leliana looked through shirts of silk and linen and satin, soft fabric that slipped between her fingers like water. This night, she choose a shirt of emerald green silk embroiled with golden, twirling lace. It still had a faint and distinct scent of vanilla and lilac. It stilled smelt of Alexandra. Leliana did not refuse the smile that blossomed on her face. 

In the heavy, laden room filled with shadows, Leliana imagined Alexandra’s arms around her, lithe and lean with light muscles, firmly at the waist. Perhaps she would nuzzle her face into the crock where Leliana’s neck and shoulder met, or maybe she would simply sway her back and fro, humming lightly and sweetly. Leliana wrapped her arms around herself. 

Turning to the bed, the Spymaster pulled the hefty blankets and slid into the sheets. The bed dipped beneath her, and warmth surrounded her on all sides. In her mind, Leliana thought of Alexandra, pressed flushed against her back and arms securely around her waist. The sweet smelling shirt filled her senses, drawing back the uneasiness in her bones and soothing the grip of terror that clogged her heart. Alexandra... 

Tears stung her eyes, unexpectedly. Tossing over from one side, Leliana faced the place where Alexandra would have slept. The silver moon and crimson flames swaddled the room in light. Sleep still lingered in her bones, still pulled and pulled, but it never came to her. The tears poured, dribbling down to stain the mattress. She should be there. In all the long years since the Blight, Leliana felt truly alone. Work still lingered weakly, but Alexandra remained ever vigilant in her mind, of her safety and health. She pressed her face against the soft pillows, chocking back a sob. Maker, please, don’t take her from me. You’ve already taken enough.

The winds tumbled against the walls, banging and rattling against the balconies’ doors, like boulders shot from a trebuchet. Leliana curled into herself, pressing her chin against her chest. Fumbling at her neck, Leliana pulled out the silver sword pendant, a gift from Alexandra. The metal caught the light, glimmering faintly with a burnish of crimson-orange. 

She brought it down to her lips, kissing it hesitantly, sacredly. She could still see Alexandra’s warm smile, so unlike the confident, teasing smirk that often danced on her lips. Blossoming bright and revealing the white of her teeth, Alexandra’s smile had reached her eyes, scrunching up endearingly. “A gift for my spymaster. Another dagger to add to the collection. To protect you, of course, though I know you need little protection. But it will protect your heart. And it’s almost as beautiful as you,” she had said, with that tone that made Leliana’s heart flip and softened. A soft voice, filled with emotion that was not similar to the impassioned, eagerness that she usually wore. A voice filled with warm affection. Leliana could still feel the grazing kiss that Alexandra had left on her cheek, a little too close to the corner of her mouth, but enough away for it to appear chaste and innocent. 

 You should have kept this, Alexandra. My heart is well-protected enough. I should be there with you instead of here. 

But the glittering of the metal is soft and gentle, alluringly warmed by the burning flames. Her eyelids felt heavy, overbearing and burdensome. Dropping the pendant onto the shimmering emerald green tunic, Leliana pulled the blanket up to her chin, curling into herself as the soft scent of vanilla and lilac and the soft chipper of the burning wood dance in her ears and filled her senses.

Warmth encircled her from all sides, covering her like a sea of comfort. “You better come back to me,” whispered Leliana, eyes drooping. “Or the Maker would no a wraith worse this His own.”

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: Blackmist (Watasaeki Kurogiri)/Ragdoll (Shiretoko Tomoko), Dabi (Todoroki Touya)/Mr. Compress (Sako Atsuhiro), Toga Himiko/Eri, Twice (Bubaigawara Jin)/Spinner (Iguchi Shuichi), Overhaul (Chisaki Kai).Chronostasis (Kurono Hari)/Shigaraki Tomura (Shimura Tenko)

Word Count: 1320 Words

Summary: Tetsutetsu and Kendo fight Mustard, Twice has to find Touya, and the Training Camp Arc wraps up.

Warnings: Blackmail/Extortion/Threats, Fighting/Violence, Injury (Shooting), Blood, Head Injury, Partial Muteness (Touya can’t speak without it hurting because of his scars), Kidnapping, Flashbacks,  Sickness/Illness (Flu/Pneumonia), let me know if I should add anything else.

Note: Based on this AU. Link here to this chapter on ao3. Kurogiri is a pro hero and UA teacher. Ahmya means ‘black rain and Ayeka means ‘someone who thinks quickly, rationally, or logically’. Shinokanri means ‘possessive particle control’, since her family is mainly telekinetic quirks. Yukimura is Todoroki Rei’s maiden name, it means ‘snow village’. Tamijiki is Magne’s chosen name, it means ‘honest beautiful’.

The Leage Of Misfit Heroes: Chapter 6- As We Disappear

Eri bounced nervously around in her energy form, the gas would kill her if she wasn't in her energy form but she was getting tired and weirded out by Koku's muttering. She hated being here.

"Three. No, two people are headed straight for us. I guess a few of them avoided my gas and realized I'm here. I should've expected that from a prestigious school." She heard him grabbing something.

"I found you!" Screamed a student and, she was blinded by panic as she rushed to block the student from the villain, a loud bang ringing over her heartbeat in her ears and she collapsed, her energy form gone and she struggled to breathe, feeling blood pouring from the wound now in her head and she felt hands on her to keep her in one place. She felt a mask being placed over her face, filtering the air and she shook feeling the blood pooling and staining her hair.

"You're okay, you're okay." Her vision blacked out to feeling the hands leaving and screaming above her.

'No, don't leave.' she thought. 'I don't wanna die alone.'

"Vanguard Action Squad, I've got our target! Head back to the retrieval point." She heard Sako in her ear. She managed to click the vocal broadcast on her own earpiece.

"Help." She wasn't sure she'd spoken, or if she even had clicked the right button but she passed out without being able to check.

"Touya!" Jin screamed for his partner. This idiot was missing and he wasn't able to use the talking earpieces because, well, no one expected him to hurt himself talking unless he was in danger. Damn those scars, Touya wasn't able to talk without hurting himself.

"I let out our friend stuck in the school building. Get your partner, Twice." He heard their inside man's voice over the earpiece and sighed in relief, rushing quietly to get Touya, who looked panicked as he ran from the school building and to him, both running off into the woods to get to the meeting point.

They had to stop at a point where Touya collapsed with overexertion and started crying our of stress, Twice holding his shaking friend close and trying to comfort him before having to keep them moving by picking him up and carrying him to the meeting point.

"Get off!" Shuichi screeched at the cat-lady above him, pinning him down no matter how many weak force fields he used to try to move her off. Tami was struggling away from Tiger, screaming and he what believed was an asthma attack. If he could just reach her, he could get her free and she could try to calm down.

"Yes, let's move the two of you. Someplace more fitting." Kurogiri's voice came and he almost thought 'saviour'.

"Give them back to us!" Midoriya screamed as they practically bodyslammed the boy in yellow and boy with silver hair.

"Out of the way, you two." Touya told the two teammates, readying a snow attack and firing it once the raven and silverette were out of the way, aka Hari covering Sako with his body. The snow sent the three attackers away from the two while a vaguely familiar voice entered his mind.

"Midoriya! Shoji!" The rush that came with just the two words trembled him and he gasped in a shaky breath.

'Tou, look!' 'We'll always be best friends. We'll always have each other! Built in best friends!' 'Touya, no, move!' 'Mama?' He collapsed to his knees with weakness and trembled.

"Shoto?" He asked himself as Jin and Hari began fighting the three that had attacked Atsuhiro and Hari with the tall one with half a dozen arms whacked Hari away from the green haired kid and Twice dodged Shoto. His eyes followed his twin, tears filling up his eyes. He thought he'd never see him again.

Once the three students revealed they'd stolen the three marbles from Sako, they tried to run off only to be driven back by the Nomu that was under Shimura's control, which was headed back to the meeting site and Blackmist appeared to halt them and scare them.

"It's been five minutes since the signal. Let's go, children." Kurogiri told them. Even as his teammates filed out through the portals, Hari had to drag him up and toward the portal with his other arm holding an unconscious Atsuhiro, who likely had been unconscious since his initial impact with the ground.

"Hold on! We can't leave without the kid!" He exclaimed at Hari.

"Don't worry. Hari told him, as if bragging. "They were so proud of themselves rooting through Atsu's pockets that I thought I'd let them gloat." Kurono turned to face the students. "Let me explain. They forgot there was a second villain involved. Atsu didn't have the marbles with their precious friends in them, he had dupes."

Hari held up the evidence of the two's trick and, suddenly, a lazer beam came from just before the clearing where Touya had collapsed earlier to cry, hitting Hari's hand and causing him to fumble and drop all three marbles. The three students began running to them, trying to get their friend back.

Touya saw Shoto rushing toward his direction and his body panicked and, instead of reaching for the marble, every instinct in his brain opened his arms for a hug like Sho would when they were tiny, before their mother hurt them, before their father isolated them, before they were abused. Hari fumbled and grabbed one of the marbles as Shoto practically tackled Touya into the warp gate and the twins ended up on the floor, both breathing hard.

Touya hiccupped, beginning to cry as Shoto held up his prize of the marble he'd caught and then he looked around only for his face of victory to fall as he realized he was surrounded by the League of Villains inside their bar. Touya was yanked away from his twin by Iguchi but he screamed and fought away from even him.

With his face red and his body shaking, he ran up to th bedroom above the bar, hiding in the corner next to his bed as he began sobbing. He didn't want this anymore, he didn't want any of this to begin with. He just wanted to be happy and live his life out with Atsu and maybe be reunited with his brother one day. But he didn't want their reunion to be like this, never like this.

Eventually Hari came up to comfort him, seeing as Atsu was still unconscious and was laying in their shared bed. After some time, Shoto came upstairs with a purple haired kid, a blonde kid, and the rest of the members of the league. The three captured students wore quirk inhibitors and Touya noticed the distinct lack of Kai, Eri, and Himiko.

Tenko was curled up in his bed, shivering through his fever and Tamijiki had draped herself into bed with her nebulizer, calming her lungs. But Eri, Himi, and Kai were just not there.

"Where's the other three?" He asked after a second.

"They didn't get warped back." His heart dropped and his body felt cold. Sako stirred and woke slowly and he buried his hand in his boyfriend's, laying his head on the bed tiredly while Hari tried to get him into bed to hopefully sleep off this stressful day. Eventually the half and half listened and dragged himself into bed, still shaky from all his back-to-back anxiety attacks today.

He couldn't help but mourn Eri and Himiko and feel horrible for Tenko and Hari. Eri and Himiko were all but lost, never to be seen by him again and Tenko and Hari had to live without their other boyfriend now that Kai had likely been taken into custody. He passed out still mourning them and thinking himself lucky for having not lost his best friend and boyfriend.

[thorsweek-blog]

The Five Times Thor Found a Family in the Avengers and the One Time He Didn’t

Day Two: Family By: @thorbiased on AO3 Summary: Basically what it says in the title. Heavy on the angst, whoops. A/N: Just an FYI, I’m the same author of “Glitter and Ribbons”, I just forgot to add my name to the last submission. Oh well. Also, I’m on mobile, so if the italics are messed up, I’m sorry. 1 Team

Tony noticed it, they all did. The way Thor, usually so energetic and full of life, eager to learn about earth and everyone, was closing himself off from the team. It was the first time he’d been back on earth since what went down in London. He’d showed up at the tower with a small smile and quite the story that he hadn’t really been able to get through without crying. The Avengers had sat together at the table, sharing concerned glances, when Thor was forced to get up and leave the room. He had come back with red eyes. Since then he hadn’t spoken much to anyone.

Thor had been back for three days when Tony decided to do something about the problem. He just couldn’t stand the sight of Thor moping anymore. (And okay maybe he understood exactly how the guy felt. Losing everything? Shutting everyone out? Ring a bell, anyone?)

“Thor!” Tony shouted, a big grin on his face. He stood at the elevator with a twelve pack in one hand and the entire Star Wars series in the other. “My man. How’s life treating you?”

Thor’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Stark?” he asked, taking a step forward out of the elevator. He looked past Tony for the others, all of whom were sitting on various pieces of furniture in the common room, wrapped in blankets and equipped with popcorn. “What is this?”

“Team bonding night,” Clint informed him, tossing a kernel in the air and catching it between his teeth.

“I appreciate this, my friends, but I’m really not feeling up to ‘team bonding’,” Thor said, dejected. He wandered to the kitchen. “I only came down for sustenance.”

Steve held up a few bottles of beer, giving Thor his signature half-smile. “That’s what this is for.”

Thor felt the corners of his lips turn up for the first time since he arrived. “Then I suppose I can stay down for a while,” he said, taking a seat next to Bruce on the couch.

“Oh, you’re staying up all night, actually,” Tony said matter-of-factly. He shook the movies at him. “See these? These are Earth culture. Midgardian fare.”

Thor peered at the DVD cases. “Are these the Star Wars? Jane has spoken highly of them.”

“Have you seen them?” Tony asked, hopping over the back of the couch and plopping down on the front, much to the concern of Thor.

“No,” Thor assured him, watching his friend closely to make sure he wasn’t injured. “We planned on it, but dealing with Asgard…m-my brother…”

Tony nodded, and seeing that his friend understood, Thor didn’t speak again.

“The movies are good,” Natasha said, changing the subject not so subtlety. She could tell Thor appreciated it.

“So do you want to watch these chronologically or the right way?” Tony asked, spreading out the DVD cases in a line on the coffee table.

Thor looked them over before turning back to Tony, his gaze confused. He arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t chronological…the right way?”

“Well, sort of,” Clint said with a shrug. “But these—“ Clint gestured to the prequels with a bit of disgust. “—came out after these.” He then pointed at the three three originals. “So, you can watch these first and then these, but most people watch these and then these. You feel me?”

Thor stared at his friend in utter confusion, his lips slightly parted in shock. “Uh…”

“We’ll watch these first. I like these better anyway,” Natasha said, picking up A New Hope and walking it to the player. He popped it in and told Jarvis to play.

“So…what are these Star Wars about?” Thor asked, his big blue eyes, eyes that soaked up everything around them like the ocean they shared their hue with, when Bruce returned to the couch.

Tony broke out in a grin. “There’s this guy named Luke…”

Three movies, too many questions, and twelve shared beers later, Thor was slumped against the back of the couch, his arm, slung over the cushioned top of the couch, his eyes still locked on the screen. Tony had passed out during Yoda’s death, and was now drooling on Thor’s thigh. Bruce was snoring on the arm of the couch, having dropped off sometime during The Empire Strikes Back. Steve’s snores had come during the last scenes of that same movie. Natasha was asleep on an equally unconscious Clint’s chest. They’d lasted the longest, and had only just nodded off during Vader and Luke’s last battle.

The final movie was coming to an end, with Luke standing in the Ewok forest amongst the ghosts of the friends and family he’d lost along the way. Thor couldn’t help but feel a pang of familiarity at that. He was jealous of Luke. At least the Skywalker could see visions of his loved ones. Frigga and Loki were simply gone.

Suddenly it all hit him. His mother was dead. His brother was dead. They weren’t coming back no matter how badly his heart ached for them to. They were gone. Silent tears rolled down the god’s cheeks like the rains he commanded. He tried to keep still; no one needed to wake for this, but he couldn’t. Sobs wracked his body, his shoulders shook. Thunder crackled outside, jolting the team awake.

“Thor?” Bruce mumbled, rubbing his eyes like a sleepy child. It took him all of two seconds to realize Thor was sobbing. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Thor couldn’t speak. He wrapped his arms around himself and leaned forward. He hadn’t really meant to find himself in Tony’s arms, but Tony couldn’t let his friend cry alone. As Thor wept, Bruce rubbed circles into his back.

“They’re gone,” Thor managed, his deep voice broken. “They’re not coming back.”

No one had any words for Thor because Thor’s words hit hard, knocking him back to their own hardships after their parents’ deaths. Thor had lost his mother and his insufferable brother. Tony had lost his parents, along with Steve, Bruce and Natasha. They were the same, it seemed, in this.

“You know, and I have no authority to say this because I’ve done the same thing,” Tony said, making sure to clarify, “you don’t have to shut yourself off from everyone. We’re your team, Point Break.”

Thor pulled back, finally coherent enough to speak. He ran his fist across his nose and sniffed. “I know, Stark. Thank you.”

“I understand what you’re going through,” Bryce admitted quietly. “I get it. When my mom died, I had a hard time.”

Thor nodded. “It gets better, doesn’t it? I won’t hurt forever, right?”

Tony couldn’t help but think that Thor reminded him of a child then. He asked it so hesitantly, so hopeful. He almost looked scared of the answer.

“Yeah. It gets better,” Tony said, clasping his friend on the back and grinning. “Now, come on, we’ve got three more movies to watch.”

Thor laughed and sniffed again. He leaned forward and picked up one of the DVD cases. He tilted his head. “You know,” he said, tapping at the image of Padme, “She reminds me of Jane.”

Clint leaned over, studied the image with a pensive expression, and shook his head. “No, I don’t see it.”

2 Natasha

The Widow was missing. It was concerning, if not uncommon. The Avengers hadn’t been sent in to look for her yet—it had only been a few days since she’d gone off the grid—but that hadn’t stopped them from worrying. (It also hadn’t stopped Clint from going after her.)

The mood of the common room was dreary. The crackling fireplace, the silly framed pictures lining the walls, and the Hallmark movie on the TV did nothing to boost morale. Steve sat, slumped back in his chair, staring through the TV. Bruce tapped on his computer, “coding”, he’d claimed. Tony, usually so energetic, could only sit and stare at wall, tapping anxious fingers against the arm of the couch.

Thor, however, paced by the window. Moving helped him think, and right now, he desperately needed to think. His blue eyes watched the sky grow cloudy as his mood grows even worse. The fact that he’d been the last one Natasha had talked to was not helping his mood either. He thought back on their last conversation, digging for clues that could lead him to her.

They’d been talking about something innocent, favorite breakfast cereals or the last movie they’d watched. But, she’d disappeared only an hour later, and he couldn’t help but think there was something more to their conversation.

Thunder shook the windows, and the team jumped. Thor just kept staring at the storm brewing outside, trying and failing to get it tamed.

“Thor…you’re not going to find her by flooding Manhattan,” Tony sighed, slinging an arm over the back of the couch and giving him a sympathetic look.

Thor groaned and dragged his hands over his face. Tearing his eyes away from the skyline, he looked back at the team. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I just can’t help but think she left a clue or something.”

“Natasha is a trained spy,” Steve said, “If she wanted to be found, she would’ve been found. And since she hasn’t been found, she doesn’t want to be.”

Thor rolled his eyes. “Wonderful,” he grumbled, “What if she’s at gunpoint right now, and you think she doesn’t want to be—“

The elevator dinged.

Everyone flew from their spots to rush to the corridor where the elevators let out, Thor leading the charge. They huddled around the doors, holding a collective breath. The doors slid open, revealing Natasha.

Her auburn hair was long and straight when before it had been short and curled, her makeup (which she normally kept simple) exaggerated her features and brought out her colored contacts. She started, stepping back from the crowd that greeted her with wide eyes.

“Uh, hey,” she said, her brows furrowed. She wrapped her black pea coat around her arms. “Can you move?”

The boys shuffled like a herd of sheep out of her way, and she stepped into the corridor. Four pairs of eyes locked on the spy as she casually made her way into the common room. She tossed a cross body onto the couch, kicked off snow boots, and slid her coat off. Just like she was coming home any other day.

“Stop crowding me,” she muttered, pulling up a stool to sit at the bar in the kitchen. She tousled her hair, and leaned back with folded arms. “I guess you’re all wondering where I went?”

“You could say that,” Bruce huffed, standing at the end of the line of concerned superheroes.

Natasha looked each one of them in the eyes before taking a slow breath. “I was fine, that’s all you need to know.”

And she wasn’t telling them anything more than that, or at least, that’s what she’d claimed before stalking up to her floor without another word. Thor, still a little shaken and concerned, wandered up to her a few hours later. He found her sitting on the floor her ballet studio, the one with the floor to ceiling windows.

She’d pulled her hair up in a bun and changed into a black tank top and tulle skirt. She didn’t seem to be dancing, so Thor crept in and sat beside her without a word.

Natasha’s lips pursed, and her eyes (blue once more) shimmered with unshed tears. “I’m sorry if I scared you guys,” she whispered, nodding to the view of the city. The lights of New York bathed them both in a flickering glow. “I saw the storm.”

“I just wanted to know you were safe,” Thor said gently. He took a breath. “Where did you go?”

Natasha’s eyes flickered down to her hands, folded delicately in her lap. They cupped something Thor hadn’t noticed before. She unfurled her fists and revealed a crumpled photograph. A man and a woman, the latter with bright red hair. Thor knew it immediately; her parents.

A single tear rolled down Natasha’s cheek, like raindrops down a window. “They’re dead, like I thought,” she choked out, her voice no longer wanting to work.

Thor didn’t hesitate, wrapping her tight in his arms. A broken sob worked its way from her throat, the first of many. The dam broke, spilling all over Thor. His hands rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles.

“Why am I sad?” she asked him. He was older, surely that made him wiser? “I knew they were dead. I’ve always known.”

Thor shrugged. “Knowing and believing are two different things,” he explained, “When my mother died, I watched it happen. I knew she was gone, but it was weeks before I believed it.”

Natasha leaned back just enough for her head to rest on Thor’s shoulder. “You never talk about that,” she prompted, clearly wanting to steer the conversation back to him.

Thor understood, so, as hard as it was to talk about, he gave her that distraction. He took a shaky breath. He hadn’t had the heart or maybe the guts to say it out loud yet. “I’m the reason she’s dead.”

Natasha pulled back, immediately shaking her head. “That’s not true.”

Thor nodded, his face growing hot. “I didn’t figure out Malekith’s plan quickly enough,” he insisted, “I was too late to save her. I should’ve gone straight to her, not the prison.”

“You didn’t know,” Natasha gripped Thor’s wrist, her brows folded. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Thor swallowed the lump in his throat. “I wish that were true,” he murmured.

Natasha didn’t try any more to convince him. Self hatred was an old friend, one she knew well. It would take more than her words to shake it loose of Thor. “We’re a pretty messed up bunch, aren’t we?” she asked.

“Me and you?”

“Us,” she repeated, “The Avengers.”

“You think of us as family, do you?” Thor asked, a bemused smirk on his lips. “The elusive Black Widow, part of a family.”

Natasha laughed once. She turned her eyes back to the city. “Well, if I’m part of a family, I’m glad it’s this one,” she said. There was a beat. Her words settled over the two of them, their implications growing roots. “It’s nice.”

Thor nodded. “New York is indeed very nice,” he agreed, looking out over the city.

“No, our family. It’s nice.”

Thor patted the soft tulle that covered Natasha’s knee. “It is.”

3 Tony

The lab was never quiet, so when Thor entered it to find it completely silent, he was understandably concerned. Weaving through the discarded supplies and haphazard tables strewn around the floor space, Thor searched for Tony. He’d been down in the lab for hours on end, and according to Jarvis, he hadn’t eaten since the morning before. The bite of déja vu gnawed at Thor. Loki used to do the same thing, holing up in his study for longer than he should have without sustenance.

“Stark?” he called, peering around the shelves, “You in…”

The words died on his lips and were replaced by an amused grin. He came closer to the mechanic, who lied on his table, covered by blue print paper and pencil. Quiet snores filled the air. Tony wore an old sweatshirt and pants, and was covered in oil and grease. His always impeccable hair was tousled and messy, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes.

The image knocked another memory loose in Thor’s mind. When Loki was younger and just beginning his studies, Thor would often find him in a similar position to Stark’s. Covered in ink, snoring, and utterly exhausted.

A soft smile tinged with grief on his face, Thor gently lifted Tony into his arms. He was unsurprisingly light and easy to carry, just like Loki had been. The genius didn’t stir. His head slumped over and rested on Thor’s chest. Thor chuckled under his breath, careful to keep quiet.

Thor maneuvered the two of them back to the elevator, and Jarvis opened the doors for them. The AI took them up to Tony’s floor. Thor stepped out into the corridor that housed the elevators.

Tony’s floor was just as messy as his lab, littered with sketches of ideas for new armors and food wrappers. But Thor didn’t notice that, he saw the pictures along the walls. There were so many, in big and small frames, lining every wall in the place. There were pictures of Tony and Pepper, Tony and Rhodey, Tony and the team. Thor laughed at a few of the shots that looked like they’d been taken by Jarvis. Game nights and sushi lunches, a beautiful image of Clint crying over Marley and Me.

Warmth spread through Thor’s chest. He thought back to what he and Natasha had discussed a few weeks earlier. About the Avengers being a family. Those pictures were testament to that. The snoring man in Thor’s arms was testament to that. Had he not been comparing him to his brother only minutes earlier?

Thor kept going, taking Tony straight to his bed. Guided by Jarvis’ gentle instructions, Thor found the bedroom. It was surprisingly simple. Just a big bed in the center of the room, a dresser and a nightstand, a closet. Thor placed Tony in the bed and tucked the covers around him. Tony, to Thor’s surprise, never even stopped snoring.

Thor left and came back with an apple from Tony’s half kitchen. He left it on the nightstand, along with a note. “Sleep well, Stark. If this apple isn’t eaten when you come back down, I swear on Valhalla, I will strike every car you own with lightning.”

(When he woke, Tony didn’t know whether or not to take the note seriously, so he presented a satisfied Thor with an apple core a few hours later.)

4 Steve

One of Thor’s favorite places on Midgard was the training room in the tower. It was sleek and modern, but worn enough to make it seem like home. He came down there often to clear his head or just get in a quick work out.

It was three in the morning when Thor entered the training center. He gently shut the door behind him, keeping quiet even though he was sure the room was empty. He crept to the dumbbells, and lifted the heaviest one he could find. It wasn’t hard, but it gave him something to do.

Thor fiddled with the weights for a little longer, but he nearly dropped one when he heard the door slam. Arching an eyebrow, he peered around the side of the shelves of weights. Steve marched straight to the punching bags, a scowl on his face. Thor watched him for another few moments, frowning slightly. The Captain didn’t even bother wrapping his knuckles before he slugged the canvas bag.

Thor tiptoed out, planning to let him have his privacy, but a sound caught his attention. Steve was crying.

Thor turned around on his toes, looking at Steve’s hunched shoulders with pity. He bit his lip, considering. “Steve?”

The sniffles and the smacks stopped. Steve’s shoulders straightened immediately, and he turned to look at Thor with a forced smile. “Hey, man. Why are you up so early?”

Thor gave him an unamused look, raised eyebrows and flat lips. “Drop the act, Rogers. What’s wrong?”

Steve’s lips trembled ever so slightly. “Nothing.”

“Steve.”

“Thor.”

Thor crossed his arms like Heimdall used to do to him when he was a rebellious teenager trying to sneak off-world. “You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he pointed out.

Thor wasn’t sure why, but that seemed to snap something in the soldier. Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he let out a choked cry. “It’s nightmares,” he wept, “It’s always the war.”

Thor closed the gap between him with quick, sure steps. He clasped his hands on Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in for a hug. Steve stood still in Thor’s arms, resting his forehead on his chest. “What’s wrong with me?” he asked.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Thor held Steve at arm’s length. “Come with me. There’s better ways to work out your issues than ruining your hands.”

Thor led him up to the rooftop. The air was shockingly cold, and it cut right through the thin layers Steve and Thor were wearing. They walked over to the edge and sat with their legs hanging over the side.

“New York looked nothing like this when I knew it,” Steve said, his artist’s eyes drinking up every glittering detail of the city. “The buildings were nowhere near this tall.”

Thor listened patiently while Steve described the New York that had been his home. He shut his eyes, trying to imagine it. Steve could paint a picture with his words as easily as he could with ink and paper.

“When I left, I knew there was a possibility of me never coming back,” he said, his voice growing thicker with each word, “I never considered coming back…but to a different home.”

Thor patted Steve’s shoulder. “I wish I had some words of wisdom, my friend,” he said, “All I can suggest is to try and find some semblance of familiarity in this world. Find home.”

Steve was silent for a moment. “I didn’t have much family left when I went in the ice,” he whispered, “I have that now.”

Thor smiled. “Natasha told me that same thing once,” he revealed, “I believe you’re both right. This team is special.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “You can say that again. I’m sitting seventy years in the future with a god. This team is more than special.”

Thor chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. What’d you say we head down to the training center? I’m feeling up for a spar.” Thor threw his legs back over the side of the building, and Steve did the same.

“When aren’t you up for a spar?” he joked, but he nodded anyway. “I think tonight I might finally beat you.”

“I don’t think you could come close, Captain.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?”

“Perhaps.”

5 Bruce

Thor sat at the window of the Statesman, his eyes mapping out the constellations, trying desperately to find one he recognized. They’d been lost for a total of two days, which was coincidentally the same amount of time they’d been off Asgard. Food was running low, water even lower. Morale among the refugees was dismal.

One good thing had happened, though, and that was the return of Banner. Thor guessed the Hulk just wasn’t a fan of cramped space ships and had decided to let Bruce deal with it. Whatever the big guy’s reasoning was, Thor was glad to have the scientist back. They could use one more mind to help them figure out the mess they were in.

Speak of the devil. Thor heard the unmistakable shuffling footsteps of Bruce and turned to face him. He gave him a tired smile. “Hello, Banner. Trouble sleeping?”

Bruce shrugged. “You can say that,” he said, crossing the bay to stand above Thor. “Whatcha working on?”

Thor gestured lamely at the scattered maps and papers forming a halo around him. “Trying to find a way home. I could use some help, if you’re up for it.”

Bruce took a seat beside the king and picked up the paper nearest to him. He lifted a bushy eyebrow. “Are these supposed to be Earth’s stars?”

Thor glanced over at the map in Bruce’s hands. “No,” he said, shaking his head, “That’s the stars around Nidavellir.”

Bruce blew out a breath. “Do you have an idea of where we are?”

Thor looked back over to the stars outside the window. He held up his map, comparing its stars to the ones in front of him. “I believe we’re still in Asgard. But, the outskirts. We need to be in Midgard.”

“How far are we from Midgard?”

Thor tilted his head. “About 60 jumps, if my math is right.”

“That’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Bruce sighed. The two men were silent for a moment. What could they say? They were hurtling through space in a ship with too many people and not enough food. They didn’t know where they were or how to get home. Really, Thor didn’t have a home and neither did the people on that ship.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Bruce said finally, picking at the hem of some Sakaarian pants they’d found in a closet. “I know that must be hard for you.”

Thor took a shaky breath and gave Bruce a tight lipped smile. “Thank you, Banner,” he said, “I haven’t had much time to mourn, I’m afraid.”

“Take it from the king of repressed feelings,” Bruce joked without humor, “You need to work through that. Five stages of grief, and all.”

Thor nodded. “I know. I think I should get my people somewhere safe before I do that, though.”

Bruce shrugged. “Maybe. If you ever need to talk, though…I’m here. And a break would do you good.”

Shoulders slumping, Thor let his maps fall to the floor. “You’re right,” he admitted. He paused, gathering his thoughts before he spoke again, “Am I wrong to be angry? My father…he did horrible things. He hid things from me, including my own powers. I used to want to be just like him, but now? Now I live in fear of doing just that.”

Bruce’s eyes were wide when Thor finished. He’d expected “I miss my dad”, not the emotional roller coaster Thor was going through.

“That’s…really…” he started awkwardly. When his words fell flat, he simply patted Thor’s shoulder. “I don’t know what to say to that, man. Other than, it’s totally normal to not want to end up like your dad. The last thing I want to be like my father.”

Thor pinched the bridge of his nose. “I idolized him,” he said, shaking his head, “I idolized a murderer.”

“Hey, you didn’t know,” Bruce said. “Maybe he’s not the best role model, but I’m sure he loved you.”

“He held me back because he was scared of what I could do,” he muttered, rolling a spark over his fingers with a frown, “Just like Hela. You know, when I was a child…my powers terrified me. And frankly, they still do. Now, to learn that my father was just as afraid as I am? It…Bruce, I’m so lost.”

Bruce watched as Thor sniffed and wiped a tear away from his eye. He took a breath. “You’ll get through it,” he said gently, “I know that it sucks right now. And you’re confused. But, you’ll figure it out. And you’ve got your family, remember? The Avengers, and Loki and Brunnhilde and Heimdall. You’re not alone.”

Thor smiled. “That’s true. No matter what happens…I’ll always have my family.”

+1

Thor was angrier than he should’ve been. They’d all been through so much that he didn’t really have the right to be angry. But, the heart wants what it wants, and right then, Thor’s heart wanted to be angry.

He struggled to keep a lid on it as he sat around the table with what was left of the team. What was left, since Tony was missing and even if he wasn’t, they weren’t a team anymore. They’d broken that news to him a few hours ago. That was the source of his anger.

And oh, was he angry.

“I think,” Steve was saying. Thor hadn’t been listening, caught up in an internal rant against all of them. They’d called themselves a family. Did Midgardians know nothing? “I think we should lay low for a while. The public isn’t going to like us very much.”

“I disagree,” Rhodes said, shaking his head, “They’re scared. They don’t know what’s going on. They’ll want an explanation.”

“They’ll want someone to blame,” Natasha countered, “The governments of the world are already working to explain what happened. We just fight the battles.”

“So, we leave them alone? To take what the government says as word and go on with their lives?” Bruce asked. “Uh-uh. They might not like you guys, but at the end of the day, they trust you. We were the last line of defense, and we failed. At the very least we should apologize.”

Thor felt himself nod, but perhaps his emotions were clouding his judgement. They were clouding the sky, too. He could feel a storm pulling at him outside, brewing in response to his own fury.

Steve clenched his jaw and looked at Thor. “What do you think?”

“I’m with Bruce and Rhodes,” Thor replied, “They deserve an explanation. People just watched their loved ones turn to ash, and they don’t want condolences. They want to feel vindicated.”

“And if they want revenge?” Natasha asked, tilting her head.

“We all want revenge,” Thor said, “Thanos took everything from me. Thanos took everything from you, and you, and you, and you. Everyone is angry. They want someone to be angry with, not at.”

Steve shook his head almost subconsciously. “I disagree—“

“You do that a lot, don’t you?” Thor snapped, unable to stop his bitterness from turning to words. He set his jaw. “All of you…you love to fight with each other, don’t you?”

Natasha huffed. “That has nothing to do with this.”

“It has everything to do with this,” Thor insisted, “We were a team, a family. Now look at us. This wouldn’t have happened if we were together. You said it yourself, Rogers. If we lose, we lose together, but it wasn’t true.”

Thunder cracked across the sky, loud enough to make the table shake. Thor couldn’t do anything to stop it, try as he may. He pushed back from the table, scowling. “I have nothing left,” he tried to snarl, but it came out broken instead. Rain fell to the ground outside, gentle and melancholy. “You know what I thought, when I realized that my family was gone? I thought, at least I have the team. But now…I don’t even have that.”

No one said anything. They shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Their gazes trained on anything but Thor.

“Let me know what you decide,” he muttered, turning on his heel and marching towards the elevator, “Don’t come after me.”

The storm didn’t stop. Violent and furious, destructive and heartbreaking. The argument downstairs had turned into awkward silence as everyone weighed Thor’s words. Deep down, everyone knew he was right. What happened two years earlier never should have. No matter which side they were on. It was a painfully long hour before Bruce spoke.

“I’m going to get him,” he announced, looking at his friends, “Who’s coming with me?”

Steve didn’t look up from his lap. “I think we have to.”

Natasha just stood, expecting the rest of them to do the same, which they did. “Where is he, Friday?” she asked, turning her eyes to face the ceiling.

“The training center, Miss Romanov.”

The training was on the bottom floor. It was a large glass walled room with every piece of work out equipment available. To the remaining rogue’s surprise, it was still fitted to their own tastes. With batons and ballet equipment for Natasha, old canvas punching bags for Steve.

They shared a look. Thor was growing more and more right by the second.

Rhodes led the way, heading straight for the high impact stuff. Thor was there, as expected, pounding out on some poor dummy. Lighting was wrapped around his fists, and no one could tell if it was on purpose.

Bruce shivered. If he had to guess, he’d say Thor’s powers were making the room colder. He stepped in pace with Rhodes, but they had all stopped a few feet away from Thor. Bruce looked back at Steve and Natasha.

“Should I?” he mouthed.

They both nodded.

The scientist took a deep breath. “Thor?” he asked, wringing his hands together.

The steady thud of his fists hitting the cotton and leather stopped. Shoulders heaving, Thor turned to face the visitors with a scowl. “I told you not to follow me.”

“You’re right,” Steve said, standing a little straighter. “We’re a family, and what happened…it wasn’t right. We were all—I was at fault.”

Thor shook his hands at his sides, to clear the lightning or to ease the pain no one could tell. “It’s just…your lives are so short. Why do you fill them with fighting?”

Steve glanced at his boots. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.

Thor unraveled the messy tape on his knuckles. “It’s just not worth it.” He tossed a balled up piece of tape over to the side, then gave the four of them a half smile. “But, you can’t change what happened, can you? And I know…what happened was a mutual thing. But, promise me something, okay?”

Natasha nodded before he’d even finished. “What?”

“Promise me we’ll always be a family,” Thor said, his voice breaking slightly, “I know it’s childish, but I can’t lose anything else.”

There were five Avengers standing in that training room. Unbeknownst to them, a sixth and seventh were mourning elsewhere (be it Titan or a quiet farm). Four of those Avengers shared a look, one of forgiveness and a vow to stick together, and they chorused, “We’ll always be a family.”

[lamiaward]

Operation out , part 2

I don’t own OUAT Summary: AU after 1x02: when Henry does not show up in Regina's office, a new plan is needed. A new plan that leads to a burgeoning friendship with Emma Swan and the relationship with her son improving. However, it also indirectly leads to the unravelling of her curse and a new operation: operation out. Will son and mother manage to break the curse together? I will add warnings later( it has nothing graphic or anything, but maybe there is something small) , my brain is not working. I am just too tired.

I have yet to properly reread and edit so sorry for any mistakes or whatever. It is just too late and I am really tired, so I will do that tomorrow.

Enjoy!

For a moment, his bottom lip trembles in a way it has not since that time he accidentally took something from a store and thought that meant he was a criminal facing jail. He stares at her, shakes his head. Is he angry at her for lying, sad because it is actually true, happy that he is right and – no, her little boy would not think like that. He is too good for that.

He opens his mouth several times, she knows him well enough that he is going over sentences in his head, thinking carefully what is the best thing to say (she used to help him with it, when his mind was running with too many thoughts to properly articulate) “ It is a trap” he finally settles on, that distrustful look that had slowly been fading returning with a vengeance. “ As soon as you know whether I still believe, you will sent me back to Archie”

(he only meets Archie now to walk Pongo or just to ask how he is doing)

She is attempting to not sob her heart out, pull her son into her arms, break down like she has not for – gods, she doesn’t even know.  “I wish it was like that, that I had not the slightest idea of who I was or the curse was all a fabrication by a very ingenious boy” she swallows, shakes her head. “ But it i-isn’t” .

The silence between them makes it so easy to think about what she stands to lose – him, Emma, any semblance of control or autonomy, her life- if this curse breaks. It makes those impulses return, like a really bad itch and it is so difficult not to scratch. She has to remind herself- Henry and Emma won’t forgive her ( she shuts down the voice that whispers ‘even if you do not darken your heart any further, what makes you think they will accept the parts that are already dark’)

Henry finally speaks again, voice choked.  “ So you don’t love me”.

She grabs his hands when angrily swipes at his tears, rubbing hard enough that his skin turns slightly red. “ Henry “ is all she gets out at first, thinking of how to tell him that he is the only thing that could ever fill the part of her heart that was ripped out when she cast the curse, that holding him in her arms was the first time in decades that everything in her just shut up and she felt truly happy. He is named after two people she tortured, killed and crossed realms for and how fitting that is.

He is staring down at the blanket, so she slowly reaches for his chin ( slowly, because these months she has learned that holding on to something too tightly does not make them love you more. Slowly, so he can tell her whether it’s okay or not). She can feel a few tears slip as he lets her. She makes him look into her eyes, smiles tearfully at him. “ Henry, why would I have fought so hard to keep you if I did not love you?”.

“ Because I am – “ he hesitates and she just knows he is – well not lying exactly, but definitely keeping information to himself. She knows how to recognize half-truths and omissions in her son.  “ The villains never love”.

She thinks of Maleficent’s eyes when she started darkening her heart more and more- her face was always devoid of emotion, but she never could extend that same indifference to her eyes. She could tell him how wrong he is.

“ I do love you” is all she stresses instead, fighting against every impulse that tells her to hide her tears (she and Henry have actually talked, talks that were like time bombs or mines but that made her understand how bad it is to hide her feeling from him)

He shakes his head. “ Evil does not love”.

Part of her wants to lash out again.   “I have committed e- acts that were wrong , but I have also done things right”.

“ You have hurt and k-killed people” he accuses

It is so difficult to not deny it, but then she thinks of the look in Emma’s eyes when she told about her birthparents and presses on. “ I was hurting. I was hurting for a long time and- “.

“ But I don’t understand” he interrupts her, that lip still trembling. He inhales shakily. “ I don’t understand you- the evil queen. Why would she hurt Snow white when Snow is valiant and kind and good? “.

He is looking at her like this is a question as life-changing as ‘what is the purpose of my life’,  like it an break or make something, but-

She doesn’t know how to explain. How do you tell a ten-year-old boy of a shadow of a father, a life that is owned by someone else and things done to you that still make you flinch decades and temporarily memory loss later? How do you describe that you kept seeing and hearing things- a necklace cutting into Snow’s neck, her gasps as it strangles her- without losing him forever? How do you describe being so hopeless that you might as well have ripped your own heart out along with your father’s, or the desperate desire for any kind of happy ending. How do you understand both loathing and loving people?

(she fears Henry might know exactly what it feels like to love and loathe someone, if she is even fortunate enough to still have his love).

“Henry, I am not certain whether I should tell you- “.

“ I knew it! You already taking it back- “ she is not sure but it seems like he is hyperventilating.  “You do not care that what we have with Emma works and you are going to force me to talk to Archie again and you are going take Emma f-from me”.

It is remarkable how it almost does not hurt anymore that he loves Emma this much ( perhaps it is because she has grown fond of the idiot herself) . It actually hurts more that he looks panicked and in a lot of pain – and she is sure he would be begging her to not take Emma away if he had not inherited her stubbornness.

“No! I would not take miss Swan away from you-“

“ You are calling her miss Swan again! I knew it, you a-are going back to being mean to Emma and you a-are going to send me back to Archie and- we are going to lose our family!”.

He used to crawl into her arms after a nightmare and she hopes she can offer the same comfort now. He is tense for a moment in her arms. She whispers “ Henry, I swear that that is not going to happen” and he slowly relaxes.

He pulls back a little, sniffs and swallows. “ R-really?”.

“ Really. You know, miss- Emma has grown on me. She has become a .. confidante these past months, no matter how far-fetched the idea of it would have been all those months ago”.

“ P-please don’t break her heart. Don’t pull away or start the snide remarks again or call her miss Swan – it hurts her when you distance yourself”.

(she knows. Emma had actually punched a wall once - in reply to the ‘miss Swan’s’ and ice caused by Regina’s panic over the realization that protecting Emma would feel as natural as protecting Henry by now)

There is just one thing that puzzles her.

“Henry.. why do you think I am capable of breaking her heart?” Hearts do not break, they only turn into dust when you are too rough with them.

He pulls back completely, her hands automatically reaching for him before she forces them to drop. He swallows, shrugs. “ You take hearts”.

But that is definitely a lie- not that she takes heart, but that it is what he meant by it. She knows it. Still, she is terrified of the anger returning so she steers the conversation away from something as riddled with mines like that.

“ I do not wish any harm to come to Emma, my darling, I promise”.

He hesitates, stares at her for a long moment. “I don’t think you are lying, but- hurting people is all you do in the book”.

She hesitates, then says “ I read your book”.

“ I know, you asked for the missing pa- “ he suddenly tenses and scoots away from her.  “ You want the pages. That is why you are telling me this and have pretended to be – “.

She cuts him off. She cannot bear hearing more of this. “ Henry, it not about the missing pages. It is about how that books only shows me as a one-dimension  villain “.

He blinks.  “But that is- “

“ Henry, it not like I loathed .. her from the moment I was born. I had dreams and hopes before I ever was as unfortunate as to meet her”.

He stares at her with a thoughtful expression. There is silence for a while, slightly less tense than before.

“ Will you tell me?”.

Regina is already opening her mouth to tell him ‘absolutely not’ when she hesitates. She knows Henry is the kind of person who loves easily, who is kind to nearly everyone, who likes to help people. But he is also an angry ten-year-old who can only see her as a villain right now. And if there is even the slightest chance that hearing her story- without giving too much details, because she would die before ever telling him how exactly her mother forced her to obey- might change this, then it is something she wants to do.

So she does. She tells him of being a young girl and growing up with a mother that constantly told her what and who she had to be, about being forced (how? My mother was a cruel woman , Henry. There was no price high enough to pay to get me on the throne. Please do not ask me to elaborate), about being so very lonely until she met Daniel (she glosses over this part, remembering how bright he used to smile at her makes her want to knock down ‘Mary Margaret’ s door and- well) , about being the bride of a man she did not love, of having to raise the girl that cost her so much, about the empty happiness of those eighteen years, about him and how she almost gave him away but knew she finally had her own happy ending.

“You forgot.. for me?” he whispers. He has moved closer during the story until he leaning against her.

“Yes” she forces the admission out: “ I did not think I could be a mother if I did not”.

“ Why not?”

“ I- “ she thinks about that moment.  “I would have seen Mar- “ she is so used to never actually using Snow’s name by now, her curse name leaving a slightly less bitter taste in her mouth. “ Snow regularly and I would have been preoccupied with that familiar anger. If she had smiled, I would have spent time on discovering why and making sure it did not happen again. I would not have been able to completely dedicate myself to being your mother with an even-more-than- usual oblivious Snow constantly thrown into my face”.

It is perhaps too honest, but she all these times the past months, even small lies have made Henry immediately distance himself again.

“”Why did you even curse yourself along with them?”.

“ I did not curse myself”.

“You technically did. I mean, the curse did not take your memories but it did bring you here. Where you had to be with your enemies, for like forever”. He shrugs. “ It is kind of a mediocre plot, really. I mean, could you not have cursed yourself to like Disneyland and left the rest of them here?”.

“ It was the dark curse to end all curses, sweetheart, not a golden ticket hidden in a chocolate bar”.

“ Uh that is Charlie and the chocolate factory. That has nothing to do with Disneyland”.

He yawns. “You still have to finish your story”.

She stares at him; he is not accusing her, telling her she is not ‘his mom’ or even looking especially angry. She could almost fool herself into believing it is just another night-time story, like they used to have.

“And she lived happily ever after with her son… until the day a blonde nuisance crashed her pile of rust into the town sign” she says the last few words with fondness that surprises herself. Henry glares for half a moment, then realizes it is just like when Emma trailed mud over his mother’s floors and Regina kept calling her  a “ bad-mannered Neanderthal” as she made her scrub the floors. His mom does not really mean it when she uses insults and Emma seems to get that (mostly; there are some words she reacts to with slammed doors)

Still, he mutters a sleepy  “ She is not a nuisance. She does chores and makes both of us laugh and she is really good at getting rid of tension”.

“ I suppose that is true” .

“ You don’t have to pretend you only tolerate her, you are smiling”.

She honestly did not notice.  “ I admit I more than tolerate her. Her presence is- .. surprisingly acceptable”.

He gives her that look, the one that makes her feel like a live frog about to be dissected, but surprisingly just nods and says “okay”. He bites his lip nervously , the sound of him inhaling sharply startling in the quiet. “Are you going to try to strengthen the curse again?”.

He is tense now, obviously getting ready to pull (and probably run) away. He is talking faster. “ I know it is breaking. Miss Mary Margaret actually stepped away when Delilah offered her an apple. Sheriff Graham said you had done ‘something’ to him, that it was your fault he felt ‘nothing’. There are suddenly crickets and rain and people are getting a cold. I know. “.

“ My smart boy” .

“ I won’t stop trying to break it” his voice is really small and he subtly moves away a little.

She stares at the comics he has strewn around the room despite her order to clean it. That has not changed. “ No, darling, we are going to ensure it breaks”.

“ Wha- I don’t believe you, you are playing me!” he accuses, leaping away from her. His hand is on the doorknob when she says “ I will lose. But I will lose more if I attempt to keep the curse intact while I know I will only prolong it a little”.

He turns around, very slowly. His hand is still on the doorknob. “ That is why I came to you Henry. Partly because I needed to be honest- but also because you are the only one who can break this curse”.

He grips the doorknob a little tighter. “ Only the saviour can break the curse”.

“and according to the book, everything can only end well if I perish”.

He stumbles, turns deathly pale. “ W-what?”.

“ the saviour will return… the curse will break… and the final battle will begin…” she quotes. She had immediately known what that meant. She had assumed Henry knew as well. “ Henry- do you mean, all this time- “.

“ I thought they would just take your magic and lock you up, no- they’re good! Good guys do not kill” he insists, trembling.

She slowly stands. “ Henry- I know you think of these people as “ she curls her lips and nearly spits out the word  “heroes, but that means very little. There have been benevolent monarchs that still murdered, especially if it were threats to their kingdom and their security that were in front of them”.

“ They c-can’t, you c-can’t – “

He struggles to pull himself together, clenches his fists, grits his teeth. “ No. They’re heroes. Heroes don’t – heroes don’t do that”.

She takes a slow step towards him, hyper-aware of how terribly wrong this all can go. “ Henry-“.

“ No! “he half-shouts. He stumbles over his words- “ you- they, it isn’t “ then accuses ‘you’re lying. You must be. You are attempting to make me take your side”.

“  Henry, I promise-“ she starts to say, reaches for him. It is easy to believe there’s magic in this world when her heart feels like it is being crushed: he pulls away, throws open the door and slips downstairs.

She starts to go after him, then is caught off guard by sobs. She takes a moment to compose herself, pressing her face into Henry’s pillow as she cannot stop the tears from sleeping. She wants to start the Mercedes and make another forgetting potion- but the ingredients are gone and whatever care Henry has left for her would forever perish.

When she has managed to make it seem less like she had been helplessly crying , she walks downstairs- only to find him under the blanket she threw over Emma after she fell asleep on the couch. He watches her move with distrustful eyes- thankfully the anger has faded- and approaches the two of them.

She ignores- no, that is not right. This thing she has been doing is not ignoring, not at all. It is recognizing a catastrophe, a mistake of the worst kind. It is pushing down, pushing down that feeling she used to get at the idea of her life with Daniel, how she would plan and think and dream.

She pushes it so deep down she can almost convince herself that it was never there in the first place.

“ Henry- we still need to finish our talk” she says.

He throws his arm protectively over Emma, shakes his head.  “I am not going to listen to your lies” .

Six months ago, she would have scolded him and tried to do things her ways anyways. Now, she sighs and says “ they are not lies Henry. I am not manipulating you into anything”.

He wavers. She almost wishes Emma believed, so she could talk about this with her ( but then again, would anything positive exist between them if Emma believed) . “ You are the qu- the evil queen” he whispers.

Next to him, Emma stirs like she does have another superpower that consists of knowing when Regina is hurt.

Henry and she both look at Emma for a while, both of them silent and still until she stops wriggling around and mumbling. Regina looks at Henry. “ I should not have spoken so freely- I” it seems ridiculous now, that her sweet boy could have ever been capable of letting anyone be murdered.

“ You thought I knew?”.

“ I assumed you got to the same conclusion as anyone who reads ‘and then the final battle will become’ “  she smiles before he can speak any of the things that are obviously on the tip of his tongue. “ I should have known you would never consent to murder. You are too good for that”.

“Snow white and prince Charming wouldn’t do something like that” he insists. She notes but chooses not to comment on the tiniest note of doubt in his voice.

“ There are more than heroes or characters in a book, Henry” is all she says, even though she could say so much more. She could talk about executions and the need for self-preservation( how easy it is to hurt others to save or help yourself, even accidentally).

“ they are not the ones who are wrong here” he stubbornly insists, voice rising before he glances at Emma and lowers it again.

She has been starting to wonder about that too lately. But really, when something continues for as long as the feud between her and Snow.. both sides will make mistakes. (and she has always wondered how good Snow white can truly be when she continues running and fighting while she knows that as long as she is alive, entire towns suffer)

“ Even if that is the case, it does not mean that they are the virtuous, heroic leaders they present themselves as. They are not without flaws Henry”.

“ that is what Emma says too. That it is bullshit to –“

“Henry!” she admonishes.

“That is how Emma phrased it. And you have to be angry at me quietly because she is still sleeping”.

Regina narrows her eyes. It could be just Emma forgetting she is not supposed to swear- maybe she was too impassioned, which is possible as the whole hero-villain-white-black thing annoys her to no end but- “ She still claims.. that word is not an expletive… does she?”

“ I am not a tattletale “

  “ Anyways, Emma says that it is kind of misleading to see people as fairy characters because they’re one-dimensional according to her. And people are never one-dimensional, there is always more going on. Things are not that simple or all the bad people would be locked up and all the good people would be treated well”.

Emma Swan is truly full of surprises. And of course Regina has heard Emma talk about things like this and of course she knows Emma is actually quite intelligent but still. It sometimes baffles her how – even if Emma is not the most articulate person- she gets a point across quite effectively. And how she is constantly making sure Henry knows that ‘he is a lucky little shit, that is sure’ ( Emma had justified calling Henry a little shit by saying “Regina he threatened to call the police like two minutes after I had met him. He is a great kid- but only a little shit would steal someone’s credit card so he can threaten someone into bringing him into a crazy town”)

She did not let the woman get away unscathed after calling her son a ‘little shit’, of course, but it does not change the fact that Regina gets all these annoying feelings whenever Emma ‘comes to her rescue’.

In fact, she gets the same feelings now; it starts at her stomach, where she can practically feel the butterfly wings, to her heart that reacts like she has suddenly burst into a sprint, to her disobedient mouth that starts to smile and finally there is this incredible glowing feeling like her body is filling with fireflies.

It is really quite bothersome.  

“ Why are you smiling like that?” Henry suddenly asks, vaguely suspicious. If she did not know Emma lacked the discipline for it, she might have accused her of researching potions and slipping it into Regina’s drinks: she never spaces out like this.

“ Miss Swan is quite right “.

“ It’s really odd when you revert to calling her miss Swan”.

“Emma is quite right”.

“ Is that truly Regina Mills admitting I am right?” an amused voice says, causing both Henry and Regina to glance at a now- barely- awake Emma Swan.

Regina rolls her eyes. “ I am going to prepare breakfast”

“ NO REALLY WERE YOU ADMITTING THAT I AM RIGHT? “.

She smiles as she can hear Henry say “ You just insulted your own intelligence”. He is using the exact tone she frequently uses when dealing with complaining townsfolk.

“ How did I insult my own intelligence kid? It is pretty normal for me to think I am still dreaming when such a special thing as your mom admitting I am right happens”.

“ Like, you needed validation that you were right. So you are insinuating  that you are almost never right”.

“ I am right often enough, your mother just never admits I am”.

The sounds slowly fade away as she enters the kitchen and turns on the stereo she keeps there. Listening to classical music makes cooking easier somehow, she is more focused and enjoys every small act more. Besides, music like ‘Carmina Burana’ has always been one of the closest things this world has to offer to magic (it can prompt feelings as intense as magic would cause, with less of the heart-darkening consequences)

She is sliding the third pancake on a plate when Emma enters the kitchen and tries to take a piece of it. She slaps the hand away with the first item she can get her hands on. Emma glares at the spoon, then tries to reach for the golden-brown pancake again. Thuk!

“ Regina, will you stop that already jeez”.

She brandishes the spoon threateningly  “ You will wait until we are seated”.

“ I am a grown woman, I think I will decide for my- ouch! Regina”.

“ It is a spoon , my dear, not a Taser. As soon as I deliver 1200 volts to your body, you are allowed to whine this much”.

Emma throws her a look .  “ Your sass is not appreciated this early”.

She smirks. “ So it is appreciated at other times”.

“Lady, do you think I would still be here if I got really annoyed by sass? You and the kid are- Regina stop the hitting seriously”.

She is getting ready to softly hit Emma on her shoulder when she is suddenly grabbed and pulled against  a very warm, nice-smelling body. There is a muscular arm keeping her in this position and another grabbing for the spoon. There is a moment of – not this again – as she can immediately feel her heart- the appropriate word might be flutter, how mortifying. Then she realizes what Emma is doing. Oh no, you don’t.

“Miss-“ she wriggles, uselessly. “ Swan- “ she stands on her toes and tries to push/pull herself free” If you not release me this instant- “.

“ Give me the weapon first” Emma laughs.

The laugh changes into stunned silence when Regina changes tactics after another minute of altogether too distracting wriggling- she leans forward and grabs the spoon with her teeth then yanks. She is quite certain that it is only surprise that has Emma yield, the spoon now clutched between her teeth.

She recovers admirably quickly. She is wildly reaching for the one spoon with her only free hand, which is when Regina lurches and pulls herself free. She is thinking she has won when her pulse jumps beneath Emma’s hand on her wrist and she is pulled back to that body.

She can see Emma’s eyes now, feel it every times she breathes (and possibly when her heart flutters like those long eyelashes, or is she imagining that?). She is startled by this , just long enough that she doesn’t react as quickly as usually when Emma lets her go and snatches the spoon from her.

She grimaces as Emma grins before racing away.

Regina glares at the spoon next to Emma’s plate. After placing the towering pile of pancakes on the table- and refusing Emma’s help- she holds up her hand. “ Spoon, now” she orders.

Emma gives a mischievous smile and holds up the spoon. “ I earned this fair and square, so you are not getting it back”.

Regina arches an eyebrow. “ I will give you a choice , Emma” she slowly starts to smirk, which makes Emma narrow her eyes and clutch her spoon tighter. “ The spoon or the pancakes. Which do you want most?”.

Emma rolls her eyes.  “You are not going to starve me just because I took one of your spoons”.

“ Starve would imply a long period without eating, my dear, and I am quite certain that you are capable of ordering greasy food at Granny’s”.

Emma stares her down for a moment, then offers her the spoon and sighs “ Just give me the pancakes” she grumbles

She accepts the reluctantly offered spoon, then saunters towards the kitchen. By the time she returns with the rest of the food, Emma and Henry have put pancakes on their plates and drowned them in syrup but aren’t eating yet. It took forever before Emma learned that particular trick.

As soon as she sits down, they are gobbling on their pancakes. She grimaces a little- Emma’s eating habits have improved, but she still has a tendency to say things like ‘it is so good’ with her mouth full- but focuses on her own food. By the time she has actually finished her small waffle, Henry and Emma have moved on to waffles as well.

As soon as she has eaten the fruit and yoghurt that is the rest of her meal, she dabs at her mouth with the napkin and sits back. Emma and Henry are still attacking their food like it will walk away if they wait for too long.

She tries to engage Henry in conversation, but he keeps rebuking it, asking Emma questions instead or just stuffing his face. Her thoughts are only kept away from dangerous territory- like whether Snow would completely snap if she just started hiding apples around town for Snow to stumble on- when there is a silver objects with a golden-brown mashup on it.

Regina glares at it, then at the smiling woman offering it to her. “ I am not polluting my body by eating that’.

Emma rolls her eyes. “ I know you actually do like greasy food Regina, just open your mouth”.

“ Fine, I am opening my mouth- “

“ To eat. Not to scold or give me all these facts about the health dangerous of ‘copious amounts of salt, carbs and sugars’. Honestly, I have seen you eat greasy food so it is also hypocritical”.

“ I occasionally enjoy greasy food. While you seemed to have turned bearclaws into a new food group”.

“ I am only offering you one bite, so you can definitely eat that”.

Regina rolls her eyes, but starts to lean forward. On an impulse , she suddenly gently reaches for Emma’s wrists and pulls the hand towards her. She keeps holding on to it even after she is already chewing on the bits of syrup-and-pancake. She licks her lips, then remarks “ Thank you for offering me some of my own cooking, along with too much syrup that ruins it”.

“ There is no such thing as too much syrup”.

Henry, his mouth full of pancake, nods enthusiastically. She sighs. “ I do not remember my son having a habit of drowning his pancakes in syrup before your arrival”.

Emma offers Regina another bite. She stares at it with contempt for a moment before accepting it. “ I have done a good thing, then” she remarks, smiling.

“ That is debatable. If he gets heart issues, I will know what caused it”.

Regina only realizes what she has said when Emma’s easy smile disappears. A little more than a month after Emma’s arrival, Regina had a weak moment and came very close to crushing Graham’s heart. Somehow, she found it in herself not to but he was still rushed to the hospital for inspection. Emma had already become somewhat friends with him by then, so she had been understandably distressed when the sheriff had suddenly stumbled and started to sweat mid-conversation.

“ My apologies” she stiffly offers.

Emma smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “ It is okay” she quickly eats the last bite, then stands. “ I probably should go anyways, I can hardly let my deputy do all the work” .

Regina stands as well. “ Yes indeed. Playing darts is obviously something that requires two people” she teases.

“ You caught me playing darts one time”.

“ One time too many. That is not what the town pays you for”.

“ I don’t think the town pays you to threaten newcomers either”.

“ I was protecting the town”.

Emma snorts. “ Bullshit”.

“ Do not curse in front-“.

“ It is hardly a curse word. It is literally- I don’t have time for this. Are we still on for tonight?”.

“ As long as you do not suddenly have plans with your snivel-“.

“ Hey, I told you. You don’t need to like MM, but you can’t say shitty things about her”.

“ Fine. If you do not have plans with that.. woman , then yes we are still ‘on’ for tonight”

“ Cool” she walsk over to Henry to ruffle his hair, then squeezes Regina’s arm briefly. “ Don’t terrorize the townspeople, I have to deal with their complains”.

“ Has anyone ever actually complained about me?”.

Emma just throws her jacket on and smiles. Regina has no idea what that smile means. She can already hear the door shut before she can ask however, so instead she turns back to Henry.

Like usually, he is cleaning the table. It is one of the chores he has been doing again and she is relieved to see he is not immediately starting his rebellious behaviour again. This is going better than I expected. She doesn’t know what she expected, although she knows what she feared. Silence or angry words, coming home to find her son gone again, hearing him plead to live at Emma’s… Loathing, basically. And it doesn’t even bear to think on what Henry might do after the curse breaks, even when her mind seems to take great delight in torturing her with the possibilities.

Now, however, her son might not be smiling at her or laughing as he was with Emma but at least he is not glaring at her with outright suspicion and loathing. It gives her just enough hope to follow him to the kitchen and call his name.

“ I have to go to school” he immediately says as he rinses the plates before pushing them in the dishwasher. “ And don’t you have work?”.

“ I- “ she does, but this is far more important. “ do, but we need to discuss this Henry”.

“ Maybe. I have a lot to think about”

It is difficult not to push. “ Fine. But at least promise me we will talk about- “ she does not endorse skipping school, but these are special circumstances. “ Are you certain that you do not want me to call your school?”.

“ I am certain” he looks at her before she can push. “ It’s weird that you admitted it, but I have known about the c- “he hesitates, then steels his resolve. “ the curse forever. I will be fine”.

“ All right, sweetheart” she automatically bends to kiss him on his head. He cringes, but does not pull away. “ I am going to brush my teeth and will walk you to the school bus afterwards”.

“ That is really not necessary” he says.

“Do you not want me to?”.

He shrugs. “ I guess it is okay.” He opens his mouth looking like he wants to ask something, then closes it again. “ Are you going to change again?”.

She stops at the kitchen door. “ What are you talking about , darling?”.

“ After Emma came to town, you changed. Are you going to again now that the curse is breaking”

She knows what he is really asking. Are you going to hurt anyone. “ I am changing Henry. I am trying very hard to be the person you need me to be”.

There is a short hesitation, then a nod. “ I like it. How things have been these past months I mean”.

She doesn’t hesitate at all.  “Me too”.

She is just reading a report that is only extraordinary because of how tedious it is – why is it necessary to document every piteous crime in this town again? Perhaps I should craft a law that prohibits the sheriff department to write a report on anything that is too ridiculous or dull – when he pushes in.

“ Henry!” she exclaims.

“ Hi … mom. Do you have some time?”.

She glances at the report, that really is of no consequence, then nods. She opens the drawer and lays the report in it with a little vindictive glee, then gestures at the chair in front of her desk. “ I can ring my secretary if you want anything, dar-“.

He grins as he shows her the kale salad. “ Granny’s” he shoves the kale salad towards her, then places something else on the desk. “ I got myself a chicken wrap. That’s okay, right?”.

“It is fine dear. How long does your break last?”.

He tears off a bit of wrap first, then says “forty minutes. But miss Blanchard did not feel well, so she is going to see the doctor. She thinks it will take about an hour, so almost everyone went home”.

They eat in silence for a while, before Henry places three more things on the table. A cup of coffee for her, a coke for him and …

“ You brought your book” she says, staring down at the familiar ‘once upon a time’ written down on it. Inwardly, her heart is pouncing. Outwardly, she looks mildly curious. “ Why?”.

He places his hands on the book. “ You said you were going to help break the curse, right?”.

She hesitates – is she truly ready to destroy a lifetime of work? Then nods after thinking of comic books and horrid table manners and laughter during movie nights. “ Yes- “ she clears her throat. “ Yes, that is true”.

He beams. “ Perfect. So- “.

He opens the book; there are pages attached to the first ones with paperclips. “ I have identified several stages, with their own purpose. Operation name is red, code names are black and the stages are blue”.

He turns the book towards her, so she can read the bold, red letters:

Operation Out

I actually wrote the last part of chapter one (so the part after Regina/Emma talked in the diner) in a hurry and I am not really satisfied with it. So I thought of rewriting that part, possibly turning them in slightly longer (but not very long) moments such as tiny signs of the unravelling of the curse, Henry/Regina learning how to deal with each other better and Emma/Regina slowly mending their differences. Good idea? Bad idea?

I don’t want to use whole chapters to describe the six months, because the general plot is Regina admitting the curse is real (after six months where she/ Emma slowly became friends & her relationship with Henry improved) and Henry starting a new operation …. (I don’t want to give too many spoilers, but he is not just trying to break the curse, he has more plans than that)