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breadbrobin · 1 year ago

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the trees

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: you have a very specific skill set that helps your team with capture the flag, and clarisse thinks it’s fascinating. in fact, she thinks you’re as fascinating as you think she is.

warnings: swearing, arguments, fighting, PINING, heights i guess (reader is up a tree), possibly ooc clarisse but not too much i hope.

word count: 2.5k

(so the brainrot has (inevitably) spread to clarisse. there’s gonna be a part two to this as well, so lmk if y’all want it (tbh i’ll probably post it anyway but still). oh and also i love her and i am a clarisse apologist and lover until the day i die)

(sort-of-enemies to sort-of-lovers, but more like idiots to pining idiots (in a tree))

(part 2 here)

———————————————

archery wasn’t the only thing you were good at, but it was by far the best thing you were good at. a daughter of apollo: master of archery, mediocre of music and magical at making weird ass noises. bird calls, animal sounds, imitations—you name it, you could do it.

and those were useful tactics in capture the flag, for sure.

annabeth chase was a master strategist, and you had to give it to her: she remembered everyone’s strengths, weaknesses and alliances while you couldn’t even remember what you’d had for breakfast that day.

as always, you were tucked up in a tree, around halfway up. you weren’t too high, so that you could speak and people wouldn’t automatically know you were above them, but you weren’t too low so they couldn’t see you.

you kind of liked being in the trees now. after three years of capture the flag and around six months of freaking out every time you climbed above ten feet, you were finally used to it. it was almost calming; a way for you to relax after a stressful day and pretend that nothing around you existed.

until the red team came by, that is.

that’s what you were waiting for. the flag was around fifty feet to your right. your job was to be a lookout and a distraction.

it was your favourite part of the game, getting to trick people and shoot arrows at them when they came too close, allowing the blue team members around the bottom of your tree to pop out and disarm their opponents.

it wasn’t a trick you used every time—not even the ares cabin are that stupid—but when you did use it, you had the time of your life.

there was a snapping branch to your left. you straightened up from where you were leaning against the tree trunk behind you and peered through the leaves. you were perched on a thick bough, hidden by leaves and branches, but able to see enough through them that you could do your job.

you could hear voices, but you couldn’t see anyone.

you listened carefully. you knew that voice.

you realised with a start who it was.

clarisse la rue.

fucking clarisse, man. she drove you insane. and not for the reason she drove most of camp insane. no, unlike almost everyone else, you were attracted to her. in fact, you were, annoyingly, in love with her, you’d have to admit. it was infuriating.

you could hear her cutting through the forest. it was strange. she didn’t usually come for the flag. usually, she hunted in the woods and caught stragglers. she didn’t want the glory as much as she wanted the fight. to her, winning the battle seemed more important than winning the war.

regardless of why, you could hear her voice. she was talking to her siblings below you, creeping through the foliage.

the sun was warm on your face and you send up a brief prayer to your father.

from your lips slipped an almost perfect impression of your blue team guards. you’d used this trick last game, but clarisse hadn’t been there, so she wouldn’t know. “i can’t believe they put us on guard duty again.”

they all froze in their tracks, looking at each other, then ahead in the opposite direction from the flag.

you held in a snicker. “ugh, yeah, it’s the worst. i mean, why can’t we do anything fun? i wanna fight clarisse!”

you could see the smirk curling on her lips and you had to stop yourself from blushing.

you continued this cat and mouse game. the ares kids below you fanned out, aiming to surround you. it would have been a smart move, if there was actually a flag there and not just a tree.

slowly, they inched in, then leapt out.

“ahh!! you caught us! i’ve been impaled!”

they looked around in fear and confusion but clarisse looked straight up. she always did.

“hey, angel, nice voice,” she mocked. “wanna come on down?”

you shook your head. “no, thanks, i’m comfortable.”

she raised and eyebrow, seeing your arrow drawn and pointed directly at her. “that’s not necessary.”

“isn’t it?” your arrow flew and, though she hit it away, you teammates came pouring out of the foliage, having been waiting for your signal.

a fight ensued. it looked like it was going well for a short while, then the tides turned.

they weren’t as caught off guard as they usually were. hell, clarisse was even smiling!

with what looked like very little effort, the ares campers effectively destroyed your teammates. they were left disarmed and defeated, and you were stuck in a tree. typical.

as her siblings took their weapons, clarisse looked up at you. “you wanna come down now?”

you shook your head. “rather not. the view from up here is pretty good.”

she muttered something to herself, but you couldn’t hear her. then she spoke up. “what if we come up there?”

you drew your bow back immediately and an arrow pierced the dirt right in front of her foot.

she looked down at it, then back up at you, an amused smirk on her face. “right, silly me.”

that surprised you. she was usually cold and cruel in capture the flag, always taking no prisoners and leaving no survivors—in a technical sense. you’d seen people nursing their minor wounds after the games when your siblings forced you to help out in the infirmary (not that you’re much help in there, but regardless), and everyone heard the stories they’d tell of clarisse appearing out of the ferns and attacking ruthlessly. so why was she not being so ruthless today?

she was certainly cruel in her fight against your team members, but any other day, she would have thrown her spear at you or thrown one of your arrows back, or even climbed up anyway. instead, she just smirked up at you, content to wait.

“where’s the flag, bows?” she asked, using a nickname she’d only used a few times, one that referenced both the bows you used and the bows you sometimes put in your hair.

you shrugged. “dunno. they don’t tell me anything. i just get out here and told to be annoying.” your traitorous eyes flickered to the direction of the flag. you’d never been good at lying.

and curse her, clarisse noticed. she always noticed when it came to you, it seemed. whether it was catching you in a lie, catching you when you were admiring her or catching your every move when sparring, she always noticed.

she nodded at her siblings and they moved off. “i’ll wait here. try and flush our squirrel out.”

if they were confused or surprised, they didn’t show it.

once they were gone, clarisse plucked the arrow from the dirt and studied it. “this is new.”

“sam from hephaestus made them,” you said meekly. why would she stay behind? it didn’t make sense. you weren’t a threat, or even a good fight.

her face darkened. “oh. and where is your boyfriend now, then? hm?”

your cheeks flamed. “he’s not my boyfriend.” and it was true. he wasn’t. despite the fact that he liked you and made things for you all the time, your heart was decidedly with another. and she was right below you, tossing your prized arrow aside like an old tissue. “he’s on your team anyway. you should know where he is.”

she smirked again. “oh, yeah. i remember now. that’s right, i sent him to try and get our flag. he didn’t even make it five steps before he was attacked.”

her bitter laugh made your heart clench. was it pity for sam or your feelings for her, or both? you weren’t sure. either way, it was starting to get on your nerves.

it was silent for a long time. she looked up at you every few seconds, then at the tree, like she was gauging how hard she’d have to push you for you to die on impact. her eyes were sharp and her smile was sharper, and fuck you were attracted to her.

you cleared your throat and broke the silence, hearing fighting off in the near distance. you would go and help, but the only way for you to do so would be to tree-hop all the way to the flag, and while you could do it, it wasn’t the best idea. “why did you stay h—what are you doing?” you aimed an arrow at her.

“relax, angel, we both know you won’t actually shoot me.” she was climbing up the tree. fast. “and don’t worry, i’m not gonna push you out or attack you. i don’t like looking up at you.”

call you stupid or whipped or whatever, but you believed her. you lowered your bow but didn’t lessen the tension on your string. she’d almost reached your branch when you swivelled around to face her. you moved fast, your arrow returning to its holster and you body facing the trunk of the tree with your legs swung over each side of the wide bough. your dagger was swiftly removed from its holster and pressed under clarisse’s chin.

she laughed at you.

you faltered slightly. “what?”

“nothing,” she snickered. “i just saw it coming. now scoot back.”

you dropped your dagger and shifted backwards, glad the bough was strong.

she clambered onto your branch easily, sitting facing you with her back against the tree trunk, a smirk on her face.

you sighed bitterly. “you see everything coming.”

she shrugged. “pretty much. but so do you.”

“that’s the gift of divine premonition,” you grumbled. it could be useful sometimes, but all you really got was a sense, a feeling or, occasionally, a single frame of a moment. right now, though, your senses were so clogged with her vanilla-strawberry and leather scent, and with her, that you could hardly think, let alone experience a minor prophecy. not to mention the fact that if you did, you’d probably fall out of the tree.

she shrugged. “isn’t that useful?”

“yeah, when it actually works or doesn’t make me pass out.” you shrugged. “it’s temperamental.”

she hummed in thought, leaning back and crossing her arms. her knees were mere centimetres from yours.

“what are you doing up here, clarisse?” you asked.

she shrugged, but you could see a shift in her demeanour when she said your name. it was like the muscles in her shoulders relaxed for a moment, then tensed again. “didn’t want you to escape.”

“so you let your other prisoners escape?” you gestured to the ground, where your teammates were sitting around fifteen feet from the tree in a circle, plucking the grass.

clarisse raised her eyebrows at you in amusement. “oh, i think they’re fine. they’re too scared of me to do anything, anyway.”

you narrowed your eyes at her. “i don’t think you’re that scary.”

she rolled her eyes. “sure. but everyone else does. so you’re wrong.”

“it was my opinion. my opinion can’t be wrong if it’s my opinion.” that was another thing: you were never one to start an argument, but by god would you escalate it.

“your opinions wrong if i say it’s wrong,” she huffed, her jaw tight.

“not how opinions work, babe,” you said lightly, using your dagger point to carve away at the bark beneath you.

she smacked your hand to stop you. “you’re gonna dull it!”

“the point is already dull!” you protested, poking your finger to show her. it indented, but didn’t draw blood. “see?”

“so, what, you threatened me with a butter knife? i’m offended.”

“it’s the idea of it that cuts deeper anyway. the primal fear of being gutted by a dagger. in capture the flag at least.” you shrugged, carving a wonky flower in the bark. “it’s more about threats than action.”

clarisse rolled her eyes. “and what if a monster comes and attacks you, and all you’ve got is this blunt dagger?”

“you ever seen an archers muscles?” you turned slightly and flexed your shoulders. you could see her eyes follow the sharp lines of your shoulders and back. “i’ll use force. force is more effective than sharpness. you know that.”

“and yet, my weapons are all still sharp.” she snatched the dagger from you and pulled out a whetstone from a pocket in her cargo pants. she began sharpening your blade.

“hey, don’t—“

she smacked your hand with the flat of your own blade when you reached for it, and you withdrawn with a hiss, shaking your hand. she laughed. “i guess force is more important, huh, angel?”

your cheeks were hot. “don’t call me that.”

“why, you worried you might like it?” she looked up, teasing. her eyes narrowed at the look on your face and then she grinned. “you do like it.”

“no. shut up.”

she laughed again, but it was a little softer than usual. she looked back down at the dagger. “did sam make this for you?”

“yeah, w—clarisse!” you gasped as she dropped it off the bough. or, more accurately, threw it off the bough. “what was that for?”

she shrugged. “it’s not that good. i’ll get you a better one from the ares stash. don’t worry.”

you glared at her. “that was mine, though!”

“it was blunt and poorly made,” she protested. “it wasn’t good enough for you.”

the way she said it made you think there was a double meaning there.

“he’s not good enough for you,” she said, softer, proving you right.

your eyes were wide and your cheeks were flaming. “what?”

“you heard me.” her softness was staying, it seemed. if you weren’t mistaken, her hand was reaching for yours. “he’s not. you know he’s not. why do you like him?”

before you could respond, a horn blew in the distance and cheering erupted from around the forest. red team had won.

clarisse didn’t look happy. she leaned back—you hadn’t even realised she’d leaned forward—and glared at the bough between you both.

“congratulations,” you said softly. “you deserved the win.”

“yeah, we did.” her voice carried very little enthusiasm.

you studied her face for a minute, like you were committing every feature to memory. “clarisse…”

she didn’t respond. instead, she swung her leg over the bough and started climbing down. only when she got two branches down did you begin to follow her, hurrying in your attempt to catch up. you couldn’t. no matter how good you were at something, she was better.

she nodded at you as she walked off, your foot caught in a tight spot.

once you’d finally got down, your teammates were surrounding you. some asked you what had happened, some accused you of being a double agent for them, some asked if you were okay.

you answered them all absently as you all walked back towards the stream, but your heart wasn’t in it. what the hell was going on?

you’d reached the stream by the time you realised you’d left your dagger behind, and you were back at your cabin, trying to fall asleep, when you realised that it didn’t bother you at all.

(part 2)

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #dior goodjohn #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show

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youcalledsworld · 2 years ago

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Summonings and Grave Misunderstandings

The Justice League summons Ghost King Danny Phantom to help save the Earth. They are tired, they have numerous allies unconscious or unable to fight they are willing to do anything.

Danny was having some trouble, the entertainment he had for Danielle's birthday party just cancelled because they had a family situation. He didn't blame them for cancelling but now he had to stop a civil war from starting in one of his territories and look for new entertainment and have their backgrounds checked. Thankfully he had two weeks to do it. That was when he felt someone summoning him.

Zatanna knew she was a beautiful woman and she knew any man or woman would love to have her. So it wasn't surprising when the Ghost King asked for her as entertainment for a day after he saved the earth and had his people's doctors heal everyone. He just showed how powerful he was and a portion of his people's technological advancement and power. She couldn't even look into her teammates eyes when she accepted. She knew they would do anything to get her out of this situation but it was her dignity or the lives of the people she loves and that was a no brainer. Sadly, after steeling herself to go with the King then and there he had told her he would send for her in two weeks.

Danny has one problem down now and he swears Clockwork was behind this because it was too coincidental but he's not complaining. He now has entertainment for his little sister's birthday party and the one, entertaining the guest was a superhero magician famous for protecting the innocent and performing magic on stage. Maybe his Fenton luck is turning around.

Two weeks passed and Zatanna, the Justice League and JLD couldn't find anything to break the deal. So, when a portal opened the Fright Knight walked out to greet her, she couldn't even look at her friends as she walked towards the portal. When she came out the other side she noticed ghosts scrambling around putting up what looked like birthday decorations.

I see this ending in one of two ways.

1. Zatanna tells Danny what she and the League thought she was going to do. Danny apologises and tells Zatanna that he can pay her to entertain the party and that the Justice League can come if was comfortable with that.

2. She doesn't bring up the misunderstanding and does the show. It goes so well that Danny pays her a huge amount, that has Zatanna grinning ear to ear and a promise to hire her again. She returns to the League smiling and tells them how much she enjoyed entertaining everyone over there and that she can't wait for Danny to call her again, not noticing their shocked expression.

#dp x dc #dc comics #zantanna zatara #danny phantom #danielle phantom #ghost king danny #summoning #misunderstanding #danny is clueless #zatanna will anything to protect her friends #danny phantom loves danielle phantom and is willing to throw a birthday party #i love danny phantom summoning fanfiction #tag me if anyone writes this #prompt #justice league dark #justice league #danny fenton

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ang3lofdivinity · 1 month ago

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˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊𝖲𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝖨𝗇 𝖯𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖾‧₊༉‧

Relationship(s) :: Jinx + Calypso (slightly yandere)!Fem!Reader (romantic - can be interpreted as platonic)

Genre :: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Format :: Oneshot

Warnings :: spoilers for season 2 of Arcane, trauma!!, death mentions, some swearing (Jinx), READER IS NOT CALYPSO - more so takes her place, Reader is a TEENY BIT Yandere, Suicide attempt (Jinx), mentions of previous suicide attempts (reader) Jinx still has some remaining feelings for Ekko, but eventually gives up, reader supposedly written to have long hair? But you can imagine the braiding flowers into it as shorter (length is not mentioned), heavily inspired by Jorge’s “Love In Paradise”

A/N :: I LOVE MY WIFE. Anyways, enjoy this crappy thing I spent too much of my life on. (W.C :: 6.1k words)

Ⅰ - Ⅱ - Ⅲ

This island was paradise—lush, vibrant, and timeless, never seeming to ever grow anything out of place - fruits never seemed to rot, and animals always seemed to thrive on the island (that being if they didn’t die first thing upon arriving).

Known as Ogygia in myths long forgotten, or as you ever so lovingly referred to it as “The Garden” this place was hidden far, far away from any human civilization: the closest island around was Demacia, but even then it was way too far out for anyone to reach this place without any sort of aircraft or boat.

The place was more than a home; it was your prison. You’ve been cursed to remain on the island for eternity, your punishment was twofold: you could never leave, nor could you ever avoid the loneliness that came with immortality. It’s always been your punishment ever since you were a young girl, being only 11.

Once, albeit a long time ago: you were free from the shackles of this hidden island, able to wander freely around the world. As a goddess, you had more power than you could dream of - almost everything at your fingertips: magic, power, anything you desired would become true in an instant. And with your father, being the almighty being that he is, you were safe.

Or so you thought.

A war began to play out, and you were in the middle of it. You had to pick a side, nevertheless if you wanted to or not, you had no choice in that regard.

Nevertheless, you picked your fathers side to fight within the war, to which was your fatal mistake (though neither side of the war was fair, you really just wanted to stay out of it in the first place).

You watched as they killed your father with relentless attacks, no clemency shown to your father, now a husk of a god. You once believed that with his immortality, no god would be able to kill him.

This proved you wrong, didn’t it?

As you wept by his side, the golden blood pooling around him and splattering onto your clothes, the gods had decided your fate amongst themselves without your knowledge until the last moment: leading you to where you are now.

On an island.

With no way to get off it.

Though centuries had passed without company, you never allowed despair to claim you completely. You tended to your gardens, took time in enjoying the scenery of the island (even if you have already walked around more than enough times to remember every little detail of the island), and watched the ocean’s endless ebb and flow.

Time slipped by like the grains of sand in your palm by the beach of the island.

The day had begun like any other. You had been weaving fresh blooms into your hair, the freshest and prettiest ones you could find. Though you truly never had anyone to appreciate your efforts you put into your appearance, you tried your absolute best to look more pretty than yesterday. The skies above Ogygia were usually serene as they were right now, painted in soft hues of blue and gold.

But then, all of the sudden: a loud noise began to spurr.

You glanced up for a moment, surveying around. And upon seeing nothing, you simply hummed and continued what you were doing previously.

..but then the disaster happened.

The serene sky, once so beautiful, had now been tainted with the roar of a dying.. aircraft?

Your heart leapt as you immediately stopped what you were doing; quickly pulling your hands away from your hair as you saw the machine plummet into the ocean just beyond the shoreline of your island, smoke billowing as it sank beneath the waves.

Your first instinct was disbelief; surely it was a mirage or a trick of your own longing for companionship! I mean, you have been alone here for so long now, of course you want someone to be around you and so you can have someone talk or talk with you.

But when the wreckage washed ashore—along with the battered body of its pilot—you knew it was real.

You hesitated, standing a safe distance from the unconscious woman. Her clothes were tattered, her bright blue hair matted with grime, and her weapons—strange devices you couldn’t comprehend—were scattered around her.

From what you could see..: the woman’s hair was stained with streaks of purple paint, though it was rather.. short. At least the back of it was, her bang - which was streaked with purple - was far longer.

Her face is marked by smeared face paint, with streaks of pink underneath her eyes, wearing a top of.. bandages with neon graffiti-like splashes of color. Her dark trousers are similarly streaked with colorful paint.

The woman has layered straps, belts, and mechanical embellishments, adding a steampunk flair. She dons mismatched gloves, one of which is fingerless while the other is metallic in appearance from what you can see. Her boots are high, combat-style with heavy laces and metal accents, covered in the same paint-splatter as the rest of her look.

The stranger looked dangerous. But what mattered most was figuring out if she was alive or not.

You knelt down beside her, your fingers trembling as you brushed some sand from the woman’s cheek. Slowly, your fingers slid down to her neck- looking around for a pulse.

You let out a relieved breath when you finally found it.

“You’re not a ghost,” you whispered, more to yourself than the unconscious pilot. (Given the fact that she couldn’t hear you in her resting state).

But the stranger was injured. Badly.

You didn’t waste another moment. You darted back to your palace, gathering medical supplies you hadn’t used in centuries but always kept ready.

Returning to the beach, you began cleaning and dressing the stranger’s wounds with practiced care. For someone who’s been on an island for longer than you can remember, you definitely are surprised with the way you managed to fix up the injured woman’s wounds (even if you were.. slightly embarrassed to help bandage and clean some of them up due to the placement of them).

Though.. she’ll hopefully forgive you!

I mean, you’re saving her life. So it’s worth the embarrassment.

When she finally stirred, her vision was blurred, and her body ached as though she’d been through a war. The first thing she noticed was the faint tickle of.. sand touching her cheek. A groan escaped her lips, and she tried to move, only to wince as pain shot through her bandaged side.

Upon hearing the sound, someone glanced over. A soft smile curved at their lips as they abandoned their weaving of wildflowers into a crown and made their way to the stranger’s side. They crouched beside her, tilting their head to the side a bit, obviously curious.

The woman’s head was pounding as she stared confusingly at the person before her. They lay down beside the injured woman, propping their head on one hand and studying her face with unguarded fascination.

She blinked at them, groggy and disoriented. Maybe this was all just some weird dream she was having.

…but the sand on her cheek felt too realistic.

Reaching a hand up, she poked herself.

And that’s when she finally registered that someone was lying right beside her, her instincts kicked in, and she jolted upright with a panicked gasp.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” They chirped, unfazed by the sudden movement. They sat up slowly, brushing stray sand off their clothes before reaching for more bandages.

“You’ve been resting for a while. It’s a good thing I found you when I did. You were in rough shape.”

The woman eyed them warily, one hand subconsciously reaching around behind her, trying to find her weapons or anything she could use as a weapon at the time.

But they weren’t very threatening. On the contrary, they were …

What's the right word?..

“I swore you were dead when you washed up on my isle,” They continued with a light laugh, deftly fixing the bandages she had disturbed.

“But lucky for you, I’m very good at taking care of people.”

She groaned again, both from the lingering pain and the unfamiliar sensation of someone fussing over her.

“And did you know you talk in your sleep?” They added casually as if they were simply discussing the weather, their tone teasing.

Her cheeks flushed, and she averted her gaze.

“Great. Just great,” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

“Tell me, though—who’s Violet?”

She froze, her muscles tensing. It seems the name struck a nerve. She swallowed hard before muttering:

“She’s my sister.”

They hummed in response, finishing the bandages with a gentle pat. They didn’t press further, sensing the raw emotion behind the admission. Instead, they smiled and stood, offering the woman a hand.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up properly. You’ll feel better after a bath and some food,” they said brightly.

“Oh! I need to introduce myself to you! I completely forgot!! I’m (____)!”

You walked into the room, medical supplies in hand once more, your eyes immediately scanning the woman. The bluette sat stiffly on the edge of a chair, her towel now replaced with the clothes you had left for her—a slightly snug shirt that exposed her midriff and simple black shorts that fit her frame.

“Does it feel okay?” You asked, tilting your head as you set the supplies down on a nearby nightstand.

She tugged at the hem of the shirt, her lips pressing into a line as she figured out the correct wording for what she was going to say.

“It’s… fine,” she muttered, clearly unused to the softness of the fabric or the attention she was receiving. You’ve seen that look once before amongst the faces of others you’d taken care of before you were banished to this island.

You quietly nodded, brushing off the woman’s tone.

“Alright, then. Sit still for a moment please. Let’s take a closer look at those injuries.”

She grumbled something under her breath, but didn’t move as you knelt beside her. You carefully reached for her arm, inspecting a faint but deep gash near her elbow.

“You’ve got a bunch of wounds I didn’t notice before,” you murmured, voice soft but laced with concern. You reached for a cotton pad, soaking it in antiseptic.

“This might sting a bit.”

She didn’t even wince as the antiseptic touched her skin, but her muscles tensed due to it. Perhaps because she was unused to this kind of care for wounds such as these, she did use staples to close up her wounds in the past..

But you don’t know that!

“You’re really enjoying this, huh?” she teased, masking her discomfort with sarcasm.

“Not particularly. But I can’t just let you sit around looking like you lost a fight with a thorn bush.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” She muttered, deeply sighing after her little comment.

You moved as quickly but gently as you could, cleaning the wound and wrapping it with a bandage.

You glanced up at the woman, your gaze softening when you saw the woman staring intently at the floor, her brows furrowed.

“Hey,” you said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m not going to hurt you, you know. You’re hurt, and if nothing is done about these - they could get infected and become worse overall. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable: and if I am, tell me. I wish to help you, that’s all I want.”

She looked up, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something in response to your words, but she just stayed quiet instead, giving you a small nod in the end.

You stayed quiet yourself before you eventually leaned back to examine her other injuries.

“Now, I saw a cut on your stomach earlier. Are you okay with me looking at it?”

She hesitated, her hands instinctively resting over the hem of the shirt before sighing.

“Just get it over with,” she finally said, her voice quieter than before.

You gave her a reassuring smile and reached for another antiseptic pad. You gently lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing a long, jagged wound stretching from her side to just under her ribs. Your fingers worked deftly, cleaning the area with care.

“You’ve been through a lot,” you said, your tone almost a whisper as the woman let out a dry laugh in response.

“You could say that again.”

You didn’t press. Instead, you finished wrapping the wound and leaned back to assess your work.

“There,” you said, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“All patched up! You’re good as new—well, almost.”

She smirked faintly, a way to show her gratitude.

“Thanks, doc.”

And you smiled, rising to your feet.

“Let’s get you something to eat. Then you should get some rest. No arguments.”

She didn’t argue, surprisingly enough to the both of you. You helped her to her feet, and as the two of you had began to leave, she spoke.

“You’re weird, y’know that?” She muttered, just audible enough so you could hear it.

And you laughed, leading the way from the loft to her new room.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Jinx stood in the middle of the guest room, staring at the bed. Her eyes traced the pristine sheets, the neatly fluffed pillow, and the faint floral embroidery on the quilt. It was too… perfect. Too clean.

The kind of thing she didn’t trust.

Though her body ached from the day’s events, her mind buzzed with restlessness. She rubbed the back of her neck, fingers grazing one of the many bandages you had carefully applied. That woman had been way too nice. No one did things like that for free..

Jinx cautiously approached before she sat on the edge of the bed, her bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. As comfortable as the room was, there was no rug and no other way for warmth besides the quilt resting upon the bed.

She stared at her reflection in the dark window, barely recognizing herself.

You know, without her usual paint smeared across her cheeks, she looked… wrong.

Exposed. Vulnerable.

She pulled at the hem of the shirt you had given her, fingers curling into the fabric. The soft material felt foreign against her skin, and she hated how it smelled faintly of flowers. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to strip it off. It wasn’t like she had many options anyhow.

With a huff she laid down, legs dangling off the bed as her arms lay above her, staring at the ceiling above.

After she’d faked her death, she began to think about what life back home had turned into. Has it become chaotic? Better? Peaceful? War-like once more?

And then the thoughts of the ones she’d left behind in that once so bloody land.

Violet.. perhaps she would be in absolute disarray, in a state of depression due to her death. Or, perhaps she would be enjoying her freedom of being away from the one she’d referred to as sister.

She scoots up within the bed, now resting her head upon one of the pillows as she laid on her side.

As for others, such as Ekko…

…

Ekko..

The name strikes something within her, eyes now slightly wild as she stared intently at the wall.

..she should try and sleep. She can’t let these constant reminders of her past continue haunting her anymore. She’s supposedly dead, after all. Nobody knows of her current situation, and she has no way to get back home.

So, Jinx attempted to close her eyes, trying to fall asleep and forget about this incident.

But her thoughts wouldn’t quiet.

Flashes of the crash played behind her eyelids—the fire, the smoke, the suffocating silence of the ocean swallowing her whole. Not only that, but the explosion before she had escaped—the soft grip she had on Vander as he scowled up at her, the feeling of her free-falling, setting off the bomb…

How Violet looked at her before she let go..

‘Always with you, sis..’

‘BECAUSE YOU’RE A JINX!’

‘She jinxes every job!’

‘JINX!’

She bolted upright, heart racing, breath shallow.

Her eyes darted around for a mere moment before realizing she was still in your guest room..

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, running a hand through her damp hair. She couldn’t stay here. She didn’t belong in places like this.

Sliding out of bed, she wandered over to the window nearby. The moonlight bathed the island in a silvery glow, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the night air.

..It was strangely soothing.

Her gaze drifted to the hallway. You had said you’d be “just down the hall,” as if that made everything better. She scoffed at the thought but still found herself lingering near the door anyway.

After a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed a pillow off the bed and sat down in the corner of the room, pressing her back against the wall. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was familiar.

Safe, even.

She clutched the pillow to her chest, her eyes darting around the room once more for any sign of danger. None came. The only sounds were the faint creak of the palace settling and the ever-present hum of the ocean.

She had once always stayed up, forgetting to rest and eat. She never was that healthy back when she worked under him, always tinkering with something - her projects always had her attention and care, more of it than she had for herself. So, she forgot to sleep, eat, and other essential things most of the time.

But now she feels oddly.. tired.

Perhaps it could be all of today’s events weighing down on her. Or perhaps it was just the fact she felt safe.

Though eventually, her eyelids grew heavy, and her head tilted back against the wall.

Sleep came reluctantly, but it came.

The woman didn’t know it yet, but you, ever vigilant, had cracked her door open just enough to peek inside. Seeing Jinx asleep—even in such an odd position—brought a small smile to your lips.

“She’ll get there,” you whispered to yourself, quietly closing the door.

“In time.”

Over the following days, you took care of Jinx—as you later figured out her name was, feeding her from the fruits of your gardens, washing the grime from her skin, and stitching her tattered clothes with delicate precision.

Jinx, at first, was wary. She didn’t trust the kindness you gave her, especially due to the fact that she didn’t even know you (that was the way she was raised, you know). You could tell by the way she looked at you. But your genuine warmth was.. hard to resist, in her eyes. You were a goddess-turned-caretaker to the broken woman before you, a woman who was once an innocent girl called a ‘jinx’ .

You didn’t know that though..

But still, she had forced herself to remain silent. Though, she did stop treating you with such resistance and harshness, eventually just allowing you to do your thing.

Everything was going fine, surprisingly enough. The two of you had begun to bond.

..then those damned hallucinations started to come back for her.

“Jinx?” You called out, receiving no reply. You huffed in frustration: this was the last room she could possibly be in. You’d looked ALL around your palace with not a single bluette in sight. This had genuinely got you to begin worrying about the woman once more, the heavy rain pouring outside only making everything feel more tense.

You paced around in the parlor downstairs, thoughts racing as you tried to think of places who hadn’t checked or anywhere you could possibly find her outside of the palace.

That’s when it clicked.

The cliff.

There’s a cliff at the edge near the palace, giving a wonderful view of the landscape below. After all, the palace was perched at the top of the island..

…

Quickly, you grabbed any random coat of yours you could find to cover you (even if it did a poor job of protecting you from the rainfall), you swiftly opened up the back door of the palace, rushing outside without even bothering to close the door behind you as you ran.

You ran, ran, and ran. Never stopping for a moment as you began to feel tears falling down your cheeks, hair sticking to your face due to the constant rainfall. Of course you were gonna get soaked, but you didn’t care at this moment.

What mattered? Finding Jinx.

And as you finally arrived near the cliff, clutching onto the now wet coat which ensnared you, desperately trying to catch your breath: you finally noticed a silhouette of a figure standing at the edge of it.

“Jinx?..” you called out, tone firm but as gentle as you could possibly make it.

“Stop! No—no, it was a mistake! I didn’t mean to!” Jinx’s voice cracked as she yelled into the void, her arms flailing before clenching into fists.

“Shut up! Just shut up! I can’t think when you’re all SCREAMING at me!”

“Jinx!” Yelling out her name seemed to work in catching her attention as she snapped her head over to you.

You could still see the illumination of her red violet colored eyes within the dark and rainy night, noticing how they stare at you in pure shock.

“(____)?.. no- no, just get outta here. I’m in no mood!” She returned to gazing over the cliff, rain clouding your vision as you stepped cautiously closer to her.

It’s like.. she was afraid that you were going to hurt her.

So you did what you could to reassure her.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, if that’s what you're worried about..” you drawled out your words slowly, trying not to cause any more panic or worry for the already clearly distressed woman before you.

“STOP! I TOLD YOU LET ME THINK!!” Jinx screamed out to someone you couldn’t see, you supposed, arms flailing rapidly around as she balled up her fists, noticeably getting closer to the edge of the cliff.

“Please get away from the ledge!!” You cried out, trying to get closer to her without slipping.

“Why should I?!” Jinx whipped around again, her voice breaking as it rose.

“You don’t know what I’ve been through! You don’t know what I’ve sacrificed!” Her nails dug into her arms so hard you winced at the sight.

“I’ve lost everyone!” Jinx screamed, her voice raw and guttural.

“Every friend, every comrade—they left me! Lied to me! Betrayed me! Or worse, they died, and I couldn’t stop it!” She stumbled closer to the edge, her knees buckling as the storm battered her.

“And now I hear them, I see them- even though they’re not here!”

“It’s going to be fine, Jinx. Listen to me: just come back inside. I know your life’s been hard, but it would be so much worse if you had died.”

Everything within you made you feel like you couldn’t speak, but still tried your best to push through the lump in your throat that had formed over time during this predicament.

“Just please.. stay away from harm. I’m begging you.” You’re desperate at this point, trying to get her to come back to you as she slowly gets closer and closer to the edge of the ledge, seemingly muttering something to someone who you still cannot see. You slowly reached your trembling hands out, offering your hands for her to hold.

And you’re stuck calling out to her and her not even paying attention to you, you’re getting closer to her but everytime it’s like she gets further away from you.

Jinx’s shoulders shook as she let out a bitter laugh.

“You don’t get it. You shouldn’t care. I’m too far gone for that.”

“No, you’re not!” Your voice cracked, but you pushed through.

“I care about you! And I’m not the only one. You matter, Jinx. You’re worth so much more than you believe. Please—just step back. Come inside. Let me help you.”

“I’ve tried this before, and it never worked! It’s not going to make your life better, it’s not going to make anything better! It’s not the answer. And sure, you’ve probably heard that a thousand times before, but let me tell you this: not everyone sees you the way you see yourself, and that means you mean so much more than what you believe you’re worth.” Your hands grip at your scalp, nails digging into your skull as you feel the salty tears, restrained for so many years begin to fall and mix with the pure rain pour falling relentlessly.

She stared silently at you as you’d begun to break down before her.

She stood perfectly still, the tension in her frame palpable. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her expression unreadable as she gazed over at you through.

“I care about you, and others you might not even expect to care about you! We’re proud of you! I’m proud of you!” You now hug yourself as you see her stare at you for a moment longer.

But then, you see her turn back around to face the ocean.

..wait.

What.. What is she doing?..

“..Jinx?” You nervously called out, trying to see if she would respond to what she was doing.

“I hope someone else can be your friend. Someone better than me.”

“Jinx, no!” You screamed as the bluette suddenly lunged forward.

Just what you had been dreading this entire time.

Without thinking, you surged after her, your legs propelling you forward with every ounce of strength you had. Just as her feet left the ground, your arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back with all your might.

You both collapsed onto the wet ground as you clutched Jinx tightly, closer to you. Sobs wracked your body, lowering your face so she could not see the pathetic display of emotion.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” you choked out, your voice muffled against her damp hair.

“Don’t you dare leave me.”

“Please..”

She didn’t fight you.

For once, the bluette was silent, her trembling form yielding to your desperate embrace as the rain continued to pour around you both.

. . .

The storm had quieted by morning, though the rain persisted, a steady rhythm against the palace’s windows. Inside, the air was warm, Surprisingly enough.

You sat in the main hall near the fireplace, your hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, though you hadn’t taken a single sip.

Your.. attention was occupied by something else this morning. Last night, to be more precise.

But then, you heard the faint creak of a door behind you, followed by light, hesitant footsteps. Turning your head, you saw Jinx standing at the entrance of the room. The bluette looked a little better than the night before—her hair was damp from an earlier shower, and she wore the same borrowed clothes you had given her earlier. Still, her eyes were puffy and rimmed with dark circles, her posture stiff.

“Morning,” Jinx mumbled, avoiding your gaze as she shuffled closer.

“Morning,” you replied softly, setting your cup down and straightening in your seat. Your eyes searched Jinx’s face, looking for any sign of how she might be feeling.

“How… are you feeling?”

Jinx shrugged, her arms crossing over her chest as she leaned against the back of a chair. She stayed quiet for a long moment before speaking up.

“I’m alive. Guess that’s a start.” Her voice was guarded, though there was a flicker of something vulnerable beneath the surface.

You let out a sigh, relieved to see her here, even if she was still clearly shaken.

“That’s more than a start. That’s everything,” you spoke gently, motioning to the chair across from you.

“Sit with me?”

Jinx hesitated for a moment, then walked over and slumped into the seat. She didn’t say anything at first, her eyes darting to the fire, then to her hands, which fidgeted with the hem of her shirt once more. It’s become a habit, you suppose.

You leaned forward, resting your forearms on your knees as you spoke.

“I’m glad you’re here,” your voice cracked ever so slightly, trying to keep your composure.

“And I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard yesterday. I was just… scared.”

Jinx’s fingers froze for a moment before resuming their restless movement.

“You didn’t have to come after me,” she muttered, her voice low.

“I don’t get why you even care. I’m just a mess.”

“You’re not just anything,” you replied firmly, causing Jinx to glance up, albeit briefly.

“You’re allowed to feel broken. But that doesn’t mean you’re not worth caring about.”

Jinx scoffed, though it lacked her usual bite.

“You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

You smiled faintly, letting out a small giggle at her words.

“Maybe. But I’d rather be too nice than leave someone I care about to suffer alone.”

For a moment, the room fell silent, save for the crackling of the fire and the patter of rain against the windows. Jinx shifted in her seat, her defenses cracking just a little.

“I don’t know what to do with all this,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“The noise, the memories… It’s like I can’t escape them.”

You nodded, now finally understanding what she was doing last night; trying to be rid of those thoughts and people that haunted her regardless of how horrible or how good she was doing in life.

“You don’t have to figure it all out at once. Healing takes time, and it’s not something you have to do on your own.” You reached across the small table between the two of you, your hand resting palm-up.

“Let me help. Even if it’s just for now.”

Jinx stared at your hand for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she let out a shaky breath and placed her fingers lightly over yours, her touch tentative.

“I don’t know if I can be fixed,” she murmured.

“You don’t need to be fixed,” you replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“You just need someone who won’t give up on you. And I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

Jinx didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away or try to ignore you either. For now, that was enough.

You never really wanted her to find out the truth this way. Never!

But of course, it’s how it happened for the two of you.

As you sit upon a rock, staring off at the endless ocean you’d grown too familiar with, you recollect what had just happened within your memory..

It starts with an argument. Jinx, ever restless, grew impatient with her confinement on the island, and although you’ve tried your absolute best to try and make her feel comfortable- you cannot stop her from wanting to leave. She’s fiddling with her makeshift tools, trying to repair her weapons or fashion something capable of escape, when she presses you for answers as you listen.

“Why can’t you leave?” Jinx demands while glancing over at you, tossing a hunk of scrap metal into the sand.

“You’ve got all this magic stuff—but you’re telling me you can’t poof us outta here?!”

You, seated a little ways off on your usual favorite rock, glance up from the basket of fruit you’re weaving. Your eyes flicker with hesitation for a moment before looking back down at the basket.

“It’s not that simple..”

Jinx scoffs, rising to her feet as if in retaliation.

“Not that simple? You’re full of magic! You’re a GODDESS!! I’ve seen you grow a whole damn tree with a wave of your hand. What’s stopping you from getting us off this rock?!”

You let out a shaky exhale, setting the basket down. Your usual demeanor dims, and your shoulders slump under the weight of what you're about to say.

“The island isn’t just my home, Jinx. It’s my prison.”

Jinx freezes.

“…prison?”

“I’m bound here by a spell,” you start, your voice soft.

“I’m being punished by powers greater than me for… for simply siding with my father, I suppose. I can’t leave, Jinx. Not now, not ever.”

The words hit Jinx like a punch to the gut. For once, she’s speechless. Her wide red violet eyes staring at you as if trying to tell if you’re lying to her or not.

“You’re serious,” she finally mutters.

You nod, avoiding her gaze.

“I didn’t want to tell you. You’ve suffered enough. I didn’t want to make you feel trapped, too.”

“Because one day… someone is going to come and take you from me. Take you from my island. Because that is your wish, to get off this island. The gods will see how desperate you wish to get off- and they will grant you the opportunity. Whether you like it or not.”

“And after you agree…”

That’s all you manage to say before you begin to feel the tears well up within your eyes, causing you to sniffle.

“Sorry- I.. I have to go.” You choke out, hand resting over your mouth as you hurry off away from the beach and to the palace on the hill. She watches your form as it retreats back..

Jinx eventually spirals after you leave. The revelation tears at her, dredging up feelings of guilt and helplessness she’s long tried to bury. She storms off to the shoreline, pacing furiously, yelling at the gods she doesn’t even believe in nor know of for their cruelty.

“This is a joke, right?!” she shouts at the sky.

“You put her here, and now me, too? You think this is funny?!”

“Fine! You wanna play games? I’ll show you who’s in charge. NOBODY traps me!”

As days pass, Jinx’s bravado gives way to a quieter resolve.

She starts spending more time with you, observing you - being the goddess you are, in ways she hadn’t before. She notices the way you smile, even though you’re clearly lonely. The way you tend to your garden, pouring your heart into nurturing life despite your own emptiness. And the way your eyes light up, even if just a little whenever she laughs.

Jinx starts to realize something she never thought she would’ve felt before: how much you mean to her. You’ve taken care of her without asking for anything in return, not for a price, not for your advantage — none of that. But just because she was someone who was broken, and you wished to piece her back together, even with her cruel behavior.

And so the thought of leaving without you becomes, for lack of a better term: unbearable. Even annoying.

. .

Weeks later in the evening, a storm begins to brew on the horizon of your island. You feel it first with the magic, obvious to be that of someone powerful coming to your island.

You eventually find yourself with Jinx right behind you heading over to the shore to see what’s going on outside.

And what do you both see?

A rather abstract figure; a concept of pure light.

You know exactly what this is.

A messenger.

The gods have sent a messenger.

Just as you had predicted.

“Jinx,” the figure announces, tone godly-like as it echoes.

“You have been given a choice. The gods have seen your struggle and your spirit. You may leave this island and return to your world.”

Jinx’s first reaction is excitement—she will get her freedom once more! But the messenger’s next words make her stomach drop.

“(_____) will remain here. Her fate is unchanging.”

Jinx’s throat tightens. She turns to look at you, who stands a few paces behind her, but your expression is unreadable.

The messenger continues:

“Choose wisely. Once you depart, you cannot return. And the longer you stay, the harder it will be for you to leave.”

. . .

Later that night, Jinx finds you sitting on a rocky outcrop overlooking the ocean.

The goddess, you, are quiet, your hands idly weaving a flower crown, though your movements are slower than usual.

Jinx approaches cautiously, unsure how to start. She finally plops down beside you, the silence stretching between the two of you.

“They want me to leave,” Jinx says finally, her voice gruff.

“I know,” you reply without looking at her.

Jinx hesitates.

“But they won’t let you come with me.”

You smile faintly, though it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“That’s the way it’s always been. Anyone who comes here is free to leave—except me. You’re not the first to come to my island, and you’re not going to be the last. They all will leave, and I will remain here.”

“Yeah, well, that’s stupid,” Jinx mutters, kicking at the sand at her feet.

You laugh at her spirit softly, setting the flower crown down into your lap. You turn to Jinx, eyes glossy.

“You should go, Jinx. You have a life waiting for you out there. I don’t want to be the reason you miss it. Besides, you’ve wanted your freedom back after all this time: now's your chance!”

Jinx clenches her fists, her heart warring with her head.

“You think I’m just gonna leave you here? After everything?!”

“You can’t save me, Jinx,” you speak so matter of factly, it genuinely makes her angry. You let out a sigh, glancing down at the flower crown within your lap once more.

“No one can.”

“Bullsh—” Jinx stops herself, her voice breaking. She glimpses over at you, taking a moment to simply.. scan over your form.

“I’m not leaving,” Jinx says firmly.

Your breath hitches as you hear those words.

Not once has anyone ever said that and meant it to you.

But with her tone and her personality.. you don’t doubt she’s telling the truth.

“Jinx—”

“I’m staying,” Jinx interrupts you.

“You’re stuck here, fine. Then I’m stuck here, too. We’ll figure it out together.”

For the first time in centuries, you feel something you thought you’d lost forever:

Hope.

Even while being stuck in paradise..

You’re finally getting what you’ve always wanted. Companionship. And yes, perhaps it’s a bit selfish..

But in the end, it’s Jinx’s choice.

No matter what, you’re always going to be stuck in paradise, even if she leaves or stays. Though, facing it together would be better..

164 notes · View notes

ellecdc · 1 year ago

Text

Come Back, Be Here (part 5)

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 3.5k p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

⚠️CW: graphic descriptions of injury, blood & gore, combat (people die), painful goodbyes, swearing (I wrote it so there's swearing, but I think you all know that by now)

Synopsis: The story of how you sacrificed yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before. And what the fuck is Kreacher up to?

👋AN: I have never written (well anything TBF) combat/action before and I was very uncomfortable the entire time so I'm 1) glad it's over (for now) and 2) very sorry if it's awkward or painful to read. I'd love feedback or suggestions as I believe this story may involve more. xx

The spring-time sun meant you had an easier time staying comfortable during the day, but as the sun dipped below the top of the building across from you, it was becoming increasingly harder to stay warm. You sat on an overturned crate in an abandoned building watching the alleyway below you as you nibbled on a granola bar. It tasted like ash.

“Should we check in again?” James asked, leaning in front of you to peek out the partially broken window.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “We checked in only minutes ago, Prongs.”

He hummed in disgruntled acknowledgment.

“Do you ever think about just like jumping when you look out a window?” James asked as he leaned a little too close to the jagged edge of the window for your liking.

“Pardon me?”

“You know, like when you’re on a bridge and you think ‘I could totally just launch myself off of this right now’, or when you’re holding something really expensive or delicate and you just want to throw it at a wall.”

You stared at your friend for a moment.

“Those are called intrusive thoughts, Jamie.”

“Are they bad?”

“Only when they stop being thoughts and turn into actions.”

“Got it.” He said with a nod.

“Hey, James?”

“Yeah.”

“Step away from the window please.”

He sighed and plopped down unceremoniously beside you. You offered him the rest of your granola bar which he only accepted once you assured him you were finished.

You moved to sit on the floor so the two of you could play tic-tac-toe in the dust. James complained about breaking a nail and you agreed to check in with Emmeline and Benjy twice more over the following few hours.

“Okay; fuck, marry, avada: Helga Hufflepuff, the Minister of Magic, Merlin.” James asked.

You blew out a breath and leaned back onto your hands. “Hmmmm, how many times do I have to fuck them?”

“Just once.”

“Okay, and do I have to stay married forever and ever?”

“Uh, duh. Till death do you part.” He answered incredulously.

“Will I die soon?”

James gave you an unimpressed look.

“Okay, uhm, ugh, I hate politicians, James.”

“I don’t want your life story, just answer the question.”

“Fine. Fuck Merlin, marry Helga, avada the Minister.” You said, though you couldn’t help but cautiously look over your shoulder lest the Minister himself hear your treasonous answer.

“Explain.”

“I just think Helga would treat me right.”

James nodded solemnly. “And the others?”

“You just said you didn’t want my life story.”

“You’re right. Do me next.”

“In your dreams, Potter.”

James rolled his eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

You chuckled and looked down at the street again.

“I don’t know James; it’s been pretty quiet. How long have we been here?”

James shifted his weight to one hand in order to check his watch. “Well, we got here at, what, eight this morning? It’s been about twelve hours of nothing.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “What do you think? Do you want to get home to Lily and Haz, or keep watch?”

James groaned. “I always want to go home to Lily and Haz, but Benjy and Em were on this stake out yesterday too.”

You nodded and stood. You conjured your patronus and told Benjy and Emmeline that it was quiet enough for them to leave, and that James and you would stay for a little bit longer just in case. The silvery fox jumped once before it disappeared through the walls of the building, sending your message to the other team.

James chuckled. “Do you remember how pissed off Sirius was when he found out you had become an animagus?”

You smirked at the memory. “That was back when he hated me.”

James guffawed. “He never hated you.”

“Yes, he did!”

“Nuh uh, he thought he was playing it cool, but he fell just as hard for you as I did with my Lily flower.”

You shook your head. “No one fell as hard as you did, Jamie.”

“Too true.” He agreed. “I’m the best at everything I do.”

“I think he was mostly mad that I’d managed to do it by myself, whilst the three of you bumbled your way through it together.”

“Yeah. You started after us and managed to finish before Pete did.”

You chuckled at the memory.

(Hogwarts boat-house, 4th year)

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up about this.”

Sirius looked at you incredulously. “Uhm, how about because it’s dangerous? What even compelled you to do something like this?”

“Uhm, you guys were doing it?”

“So?”

“So? If you can do it, why can’t I?”

“Do you know how much trouble you could get into for this?” He asked while pinching the space between his brows.

“Why? Are you going to rat me out?”

Sirius guffawed. “I’m not a snitch, Dollface.”

You smiled wickedly at him. “Good, then shut up about it.”

You stood and stretched your limbs, stiff from the day of waiting for nothing to happen.

“I’m confused, James.” You said, poking your head into the window again. “Didn’t the tip suggest that this was a major meeting spot for Death Eaters and allies?”

James hummed in acknowledgement.

“Then why haven’t we seen anything all day?”

He looked at you curiously. “I don’t know...isn’t no news good news?”

You groaned. “I don’t know. Not if we’re to believe the tip.”

“You think it was false?”

You made a non-committal sound as you started to pace the room.

“I mean, I guess it is weird for nothing to happen two days in a row.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. “Two days?”

James nodded at you. “Yeah, Emmeline and Benjy were here yesterday.”

“They were here yesterday?”

“Are you feeling okay? I literally just said that.”

“Fuck, James, where did this tip come from?”

James scrunched his eyebrows. “I don’t know, Vix.”

You both stared at each other for a few moments. “I think we should leave.” You said.

“Apparate to location seven?” James asked as you helped him stand.

“Yep.”

You both pulled your wands and spun to apparate.

You looked at each other in confusion.

After a quick nod, you both spun again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You muttered before moving back to the window; neither teams had any problems apparating in or out earlier today.

“Vix, this isn’t good.”

“Alright,” you breathed out, squaring your shoulders, “alright. Let’s scout the area. We’ll find out where this anti-apparition ward ends and get the hell out of here.”

James, looking far paler than he had moments ago, offered you one nod before getting into stance and following you to the door.

You grabbed the handle and heard an awful searing sound before you realized it was the sound of your hand against the metal doorknob.

“FUCK!” You shouted as you pulled your hand away, blisters already littering the palm of your hand. James quickly cast an auguamenti over your hand followed by a glacius. The stinging slowly subsided but you could still feel your heartbeat in your palm, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

James leaned his ear closer to the door. “I...I feel like I hear a dragon?”

You paled.

“Fiendfyre.”

You moved over to the window and cast a despulso, shattering the remaining glass and leaning out of it.

“This way.” You said to James over your shoulder before changing into Vixen and jumping down two storeys. Your paws stumbled beneath you as you landed awkwardly, but you fared better than you would have in your human form.

James looked down at you from the window as you changed back to your human form before giving him a quick nod. He jumped and you cast an arresto momentum, slowly lowering him to the ground.

You both tried to apparate again to no prevail. James cast a revelio which illuminated the shimmery grid lock of the ward around you.

“It doesn’t look like it goes far. We just need to make it to the street.” James said as he nodded his head down the alleyway.

You began in that direction when two shadowy, masked figures stepped into the alley from the street. You huffed and figured you’d fare better on the other end, save having to climb over the barbed wire. When you turned again to run, another set of masked figures stepped out on that end too.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” One of them sing-songed.

“Through the building.” James commanded and the two of you moved to the door of the building across the alleyway.

James cast a despulso to open the door as you threw a bombarda at the second set of Death Eaters. You narrowly dodged a confringo as more bolts of light shot your way.

You ran down the hall, looking around corners for signs of an exit. You passed a hallway and felt a hand grab your arm before you were slammed into the wall.

A wand was pressed to your throat when you heard James cast a flipendo. The wizard pinning you was sent flying, so you righted yourself and grabbed James’s hand before sprinting down the hallway again.

You shot a hex at a fire extinguisher as you passed it which fogged up the hallway behind you.

“Confringo!” A voice suddenly shouted from ahead. A ball of fire hit James’s square in the chest as he moved to block you from it. He fell to the ground with a thud as you cast a protego around the two of you.

Three more casts bounced off of your shield before you shot an incendio at them, watching the robes and masks melt away before the wizards turned to ash.

“You idiot!” You gritted through your teeth as you cast healing charms over James’ burn.

“Wake up James, get your arse up.” You insisted, gripping his chin and shaking his head back and forth.

You looked up at the sound of running and shot another bombarda behind you. The sickening sound of a body hitting a wall and sliding to the ground let you know you hit your mark as you continued to rouse James.

“You need to get up James. Come on, let’s go.” You said as you hauled him into a sitting position. You mentally cursed him and his dedication to the gym as you tried to manhandle his 183cm (six-foot) pure muscle figure. The movement caused him to groan.

“Yes, come on Prongs, get up, we need to go.” You insisted, giving him another shake. The burning in your hand was starting to return and you felt the beginnings of a wicked headache coming on. You could hear shouting from the floor above you – you had company.

The wall behind you exploded suddenly and threw you both across the hall. Your head made a sickening crack as it met the brick wall and James was covered with rubble.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You moaned as you felt heat spread down your neck. You ripped a large piece of glass from your right thigh as you stood, which began to bleed far too quickly for your liking. Wobbly as all hell, you moved over to James and pulled the cinderblocks from his body.

“Come on Potter,” you muttered. “You’ve got a wife and kid at home.”

He groaned in agony as you pulled him into a crouch.

“And you’ve got a Sirius.” He slurred.

“Exactly,” you grunted as you used your wand to throw a piece of wall at some assailants to your left. “And if I go home to my boyfriend without his boyfriend, he will have my head.”

Both of you hissed in pain as you stood, but you trudged through the rubble and moved to the end of the hall. You pushed through a door which brought you out into an alleyway parallel to the one you guys had just been in. You cast a revelioand saw that the anti-apparition ward ended at the sidewalk about ten yards away.

The sound of an explosion followed by screaming made you turn. The building you and James had been in for your stake out had been completely consumed by the fiendfyre and was spreading to the building you just exited.

“The fiendfyre caused friendly fire.” James muttered.

You pushed at his shoulder and directed him toward the street. “James, this way, we’re almost-”

“BOMBARDA.”

“No!”

The wind was knocked clean out of you and your senses vanished. You saw bright white and couldn’t hear anything past the ringing in your ears. You tried to stay calm as you willed your lungs to take in more air.

You were aware of someone standing above you, or in front of you, but you couldn’t see or hear them. There were hands, warm hands, you were being shaken.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

Choking.

You could hear choking.

You could hear!

You hear yourself choking.

You sucked in a deep breath that caused an unbelievable amount of pain in your stomach; the breath shuddered as it left your body.

“No, no, no. Vix please.”

You opened your eyes. Though your eyesight was still white around the edges you could see James’ face in front of yours.

“Y/N, we’re almost there.” James whimpered, tilting his head toward the sidewalk where the ward line ended. You lifted your hand to your head even though it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and when you pulled your hand back it was red.

“James.” You choked out. “Go, I’ll find you.”

“Y/N.”

You attempted to sit up straighter, but it elicited a strangled sob from you. You felt a strange pressure in the left of your stomach, and when you looked down you could see why.

Your head, also feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, lolled as you lifted your shirt to expose a metal rod that had impaled you from behind. Your view of the injury quickly became obscured as blood flowed from the wound. Between the wound to your thigh, and now your stomach, the gravel below you was quickly becoming drenched in your blood. You knew then. This injury was well beyond either of your wheelhouse.

“Jamie.”

“No.”

“James.” You whined quietly, lolling your head back against the fence behind you. “You have to go.”

“Y/N, I won’t. I cannot leave without you.”

“You have to.”

“No.” He cried miserably.

You took a few breaths, heart hurting both from blood loss and for your partner.

“What about Sirius? Hm?” He shot at you.

You smiled at the thought of your sweet boy. You felt like you could smell him now; worn leather, caramel, and his cigarettes. You knew he tried to spell the smell away, but it never really worked; you’d learned to associate the scent with him though, so you mostly didn’t mind.

“You’ll take care of him for me, won’t you?” You asked your friend, offering him a tired smile. Tears fell from his eyes; he was too pretty to cry, you thought.

“Vix, please, he needs you.”

“Thank him for me?”

James sobbed.

“I’m so-” you grunted and fought the urge to gag. “I’m so thankful for him. For all of you.”

“Y/N.”

“Tell him I’d do it all again. Every moment of it. If it meant I got to love him.” You breathed in deeply. “It was worth every minute of it.”

A portion of the building behind James collapsed in on itself under the flames, but neither of you moved your gaze from the other.

“Tell him for me?” You asked again.

James’s face was scrunched in pain as he nodded.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He cried.

“I’m not.” You said as you shook your head. “I don’t re-I don’t-” You tried to take a deep breath but found yourself unable to.

“I don’t regret anything.” You finished on an exhale.

The building behind James continued to fall as smoke and debris fell around the two of you. You shakily lifted one of your hands to his face and wiped at the tear tracks lining his cheeks. You lifted your wand in the other and cast a diffindo at the death eaters approaching behind him. You were thankful your vision was going, knowing the sight behind James would be unbelievably gruesome.

“I-” you started, your breathing becoming erratic. “I love you. All of you.”

James nodded as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“I am so lucky to have known you, Vix.”

“Go now.” You said quietly.

James held your head to his shoulder.

“You - you have to go.”

James kissed your head again.

“Go.”

You rested your head against your own shoulder as you watched James hobble to the end of the alleyway. You did it, you thought to yourself, you saved him.

James made it to the sidewalk when he turned to face you. You tried to offer him one last smile as he spun and apparated away.

A sob tore through you, and it felt as though it emptied your lungs of any remaining air.

No matter, you wouldn’t need air anymore anyway.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it home, Siri.” You thought. “I’ll find you in our next life, and I’ll love you there too.”

With a shuddering sigh, you fell asleep.

It was dark. It made sense. Death would be dark. Should it be cold? Perhaps. You only wished it wasn’t also painful. It was quiet, but you could hear.

“Why waste your energy on a pathetic mudblood?”

“Information. Knowledge is power, after all.”

“Couldn’t you have found a mudblood that wasn’t so close to death then?”

“We would’ve had more to choose from had someone not thought to fight with fiendfyre instead of a good old incendio.”

“Incendio was boring, I wanted to spice things up a little.”

“Your penchant for spice lost us numbers, Junior. The Dark Lord will not be pleased.”

“Then we’ll get the mudblood talking. Once we get information, the numbers won’t matter.”

“You ignorant-”

“Enough! What’s done is done. Someone will have to take responsibility for the repercussions when the time comes.”

“Severus is right. For now, the mudblood comes with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The last prisoner did not even survive the night under your watch.”

“Pfft. You should have heard the mouth on that nasty witch. I did the world a favour.”

“Foulness tends to be a common trait of the Order. Please do keep up, Goyle.”

“I do not see how you are in any position to be barking orders around here. You are barely out of Hogwarts yourself, child.”

“Yes, and this child received their dark mark before they even graduated. In fact, Mulciber, I have had my mark longer than you.”

“What do you even want with the mudblood anyway?”

“Trying to keep it in the family, baby Black?”

“Yes, Purebloods tend to do that. I can see that your ancestors kept it a little too close to home, however.”

“You don’t know what to do with a prisoner; let the rest of us enjoy her a little.”

“I am not concerned about enjoying, you imbecile. I work for the Dark Lord, that is my only concern. I am one of the most skilled legillimens and occlumens here, I will not let my dick get in the way of getting information for the Dark Lord, unlike the rest of you, so I will take the mudblood.”

“Hmph, well, we’ll see how long this lasts.”

You listen: Doors. Floorboards. Parchment. Fireplace.

...

“You’re awake.”

...

“Squeezing your eyes shut will not change the fact that I know you are awake.”

Are they talking to me?

“Yes, I am talking to you.”

Shit.

“Very elegant.”

I’m fucking alive?!

“Indeed, you are.”

You peeled your eyes open and blinked against the light above you. The room was dark, with dark-grained wood on the ceiling and walls, and little light save from the gaudy chandelier above you and a tiny window letting in a minuscule amount of light which seemed to dissipate by the time it reached one foot from the source.

Your neck cracked loudly as you turned your head to the voice, and you swore you felt your heart fall out of your feet.

“You can’t be serious?” You rasped disbelievingly.

“Close, but no.” The man smirked as he stood and moved toward the table you were lying on. “The name is Regulus. Regulus Arcturus Black.”

You felt your heart rate pick up as you stared at the face of a man who held an uncanny similarity to your boyfriend.

“I don’t suppose you happen to know occlumency, do you?”

You shook your head; unsure you could voice anything more than a horrified whimper.

“Shame. Well, for your sake, I hope you are a quick learner.”

And he stupefied you.

(Present)

“Kreacher, what have you done?” You spat angrily, twisting your arm in his grasp. He appeared wholly unimpressed with the situation and less than inclined to respond to you.

“Let go.” You muttered as you tried to tear your arm from the house-elf. For looking so small, thin, and well, decrepit, he was surprisingly strong. You considered pulling your wand when someone spoke.

“Release her.”

Your head shot up at the sound. You were met with a scarily familiar smirk that left you feeling weightless.

The elf obeyed, though you wish he hadn’t as you suddenly felt weak in the knees.

“Welcome back, Y/N.” He smirked as he stood from his perch on the edge of an ornate desk. “Ready to finish this?”

Continue to part six here.

#marauders era #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #first wizarding war #first wizarding war fanfic #reader insert #escapism #self insert #canon divergence #hurt/comfort #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black fic #sirius black one shot #sirius black blurb #sirius black ficlet

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in-my-feels-probably · 1 year ago

Note

Hi there, hope you're doing well. I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better. Cheers!

Right Where You Left Me

Request: I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better.

Hi! I’m so sorry for the wait, it took me forever to get to this request, and even longer to finish it. I’ve been in a bit of a slump, but I feel better. I love this request, thank you so much for sending it in! I hope you enjoy it :)

(Warnings: swearing, mentions of azkaban and sirius’s treatment there, mentions of death, vague mention of nudity, let me know if i missed anything)

—

When you received the Patronus from Remus telling you Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, it brought you to your knees.

You thought about him every day. But you could only ever picture him in the days before he was arrested. It hurt too much to think about him rotting away in prison. But hearing that he got out? That he was out in the world and could be anywhere by now? The fact that he was suddenly much closer to you than you thought he would ever be again?

It terrified you.

You married Sirius right after school ended and the war was beginning to pick up. He proposed on a whim, telling you that the rest of your days weren’t guaranteed, and he didn’t want to live through another day without you tied to him. You would have always been by his side, but this was tying more than just your lives together—it was your souls. When Harry was born, you were named his godparents. All was well for a while. Calm, even. Of course, the calm didn’t last.

It wasn’t long after your marriage before that night in Godric’s Hollow came, and Sirius was taken away from you.

But it wasn’t just Sirius.

It was James, Lily, and Peter—even Mary. Marlene was in the weeks before, and Dorcas too. They were ripped away from you, far before you were ready to let them go. Remus was the only one who you kept in touch with after that night. You clung to each other in the weeks after, seeming to be the only people in the world the other could find solace in. But as the years passed, your visits and letters became few and far in between.

Then—after all that time—another Patronus came.

Sirius had come to Hogwarts, and he’d proved his innocence to those who mattered. It was Peter who had betrayed everyone, and he was still alive.

And, while Sirius had you and Remus on his side, he was still considered a fugitive. The Aurors were after him, and he needed to be kept some place safe where they wouldn’t come looking. Luckily for you, the flat you bought was outside of Wizarding London. Sirius had always loved the feeling of places untouched by magic, so after you married, you moved in together in a quiet area on the outskirts of London. It was his idea to use magic to ward it so that people looking for you would have a hard time, and after so long away from the Wizarding community, not many people would think it was worth it or even remember to come looking for Sirius in hiding with you.

After twelve years of solitude, you couldn’t fathom the idea of your husband coming back to you. You couldn’t fathom the idea of him being part of your day to day life again. All you could do to keep yourself together was tidy up and prepare for Sirius’s arrival.

You couldn’t believe it when Remus finally brought him home to you.

Your boy—who was a man now, or at least the shell of one—was sitting right in your living room. The only home he had ever known outside of Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts, and he couldn’t have looked more out of place.

Neither of you spoke when Remus eased him down onto the couch, before coming to your side. You’d always pictured that by some miracle if Sirius ever came home to you, you’d rush into his arms and he’d hold you like no time had passed. You spent years missing his touch, wishing you could hug him just one more time. But now he was right in front of you, and you had no idea how to act. You didn’t know if he even wanted you to touch him. You couldn’t take your eyes off Sirius, eyes wide as you looked him over.

Time had not been kind to him.

You could see the man you once knew bleeding through, but so much of this version of him was unknown to you. Sirius kept his eyes on the floor, but would occasionally glance up at you. You knew he was seeing a stranger, too.

“I have to go back,” Remus whispered, turning your attention to him. “They’ll know what’s happened back at Hogwarts if I don’t leave soon, and too many people know what’s happened already. I’m sorry. I’ll come back as soon as I can, yeah?”

You could hardly hear him, but you quickly nodded, giving him a squeeze. “Be careful, Remus. I’ll take care of him while you’re gone.”

“I know you will,” he murmured, squeezing you tight.

He let you go, kneeling down next to Sirius who was watching you both with a look full of anxiety. Remus placed a hand on Sirius’s shoulder, his touch light and gentle.

“I have to go, alright? But you’re safe here. I promise. It’s just Y/N.”

Just Y/N, Sirius thought. He just nodded, a conflicted look on his face. Remus stood up, giving you one last look of sympathy, before walking out the door. He left a deafening silence in his wake.

It took you forever to get your feet to move. But when you did, you were falling. You landed on your knees just in front of Sirius, peering up at him through teary eyes. You could see him take a breath, stilling as you got closer.

“Can I touch you?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Sirius swallowed hard. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, and you gently reached your hand up, your fingertips hovering over his face. Taking a breath, you cradled his cheek in your palm. You could feel the stubble along his jaw, and the sharpness off his cheek. His skin was cool, far from the usual flush you remembered from all those years ago.

“You’re really here,” you murmured, your voice catching in your throat. “Oh, love. You’re so beautiful.”

Your words pulled a pained whimper from Sirius’s chest. He nestled his face into your hand, a few stray tears pooling in your palm. You were quick to wipe them away, leaning in close. He tilted his head down, resting his forehead against yours. He took a deep breath, taking you in.

“I pictured your face every day, and I still think I��ll never get tired of looking at you. How could I? You’re right here in front of me, as beautiful as the day I lost you. But you’ve always been the pretty one in this relationship, haven’t you?”

You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head. “In my dreams. But it’s good to see your sense of humor is still intact.”

The next few moments were quiet, nothing but the sound of sniffles and shaky breaths reaching your ears.

Finally, Sirius forced himself to look around. He’d braced himself from the moment he walked in to see all that had changed since he left. He’d expected you to move on and live your life without him, and he’d expected the flat to reflect that. It was honestly more of a shock to him when Remus told him you still lived there than anything else. But as he looked around and took everything in, he realized how wrong he had been.

“You haven’t changed a thing,” he said, looking at the art on the walls you’d picked out together when you first moved in.

You glanced around as well. You wanted to tell him how you didn’t have the heart to change anything. And although seeing him in everything around you felt like you were being stabbed, you just couldn’t get rid of anything. Getting rid of it would mean getting rid of all you had left of him.

And you would have rather been stabbed a thousand times than do that.

You shook your head, pointing to the spare room. “Actually, Remus lived here for a while. He pretty much flipped that whole room. Said something about you having too expensive a taste for him to have to endure for extended periods of time.”

“Merlin, I bet it looks like grunge threw up in there,” he mused, making you smile and nod.

You stood up, offering him your hands. “Are you hungry? We need to get you fed and cleaned up, love.”

Sirius looked down to the robes he was wearing. They were tattered—resembling rags stitched together more than they were resembling clothes. His hair was greasy and matted to his head, and his face and body was caked in dirt. He had almost forgotten just how dirty he was, a flush spreading across his cheeks as he gave you an embarrassed look.

“It’s alright, darling,” you said softly, taking his hands in yours. “We’ll take it at your pace. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Reluctantly, Sirius nodded. You smiled, gently leading him up off the sofa and into the kitchen.

—

It took ages to find him something to eat.

You nearly keeled over when he told you that pretty much the only thing he had been given to eat for the past twelve years was bread and water. It was what he’d grown accustomed to eating, and he wasn’t sure he could stomach anything else. You had to choke back tears when you finally suggested soup—one of the first things he learned to make on his own without magic. It took a while, but he managed to get most of it down.

You made small talk while he ate, telling him little things he’d missed while he was gone. You left out the most painful details. You could tell him about those later.

Finally, he couldn’t stall anymore.

He let you take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom, his eyes on the floor as you shut the door behind him.

“Shower or bath?” You asked, turning the water on to let it heat up. “A bath might be easier. You look tired, and I don’t want you falling over or something.”

Sirius just nodded, and you assumed he was alright with you choosing for him. You let the tub fill up, making sure the water wasn’t too hot before you turned the faucet off. You turned back around, frowning when you saw Sirius looking back at you with anxious eyes.

“It’s ready,” you said softly, stepping out of the way.

Sirius watched you for a moment, fidgeting back and forth on his heels. Just as you opened your mouth to speak again, he beat you to it.

“Can you turn around?” He asked, lowering his eyes to the floor. “I don’t mind if you stay, but could you…could you maybe turn around for this part?”

You quickly nodded, stepping towards the door. “Of course! I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask if you wanted me in here—”

He was quick to speak, his voice shaky. “I do! But this is just a little weird, you know?”

You nodded, backing up to the doorway and turning to face it. You could feel the heat creep up to your cheeks as you heard his clothes hit the floor, followed by the sound of him climbing into the tub. You had seen Sirius naked a thousand times before. He was never ashamed of his body, he never shied away, and you had seen plenty of him in your years of knowing him. This version of him made your chest tighten, and all you could do was stand there and hope he wasn’t feeling the emotions you were. You waited another moment before talking over your shoulder.

“Do you need anything, love? I’ll wait outside if you want me to. Unless you want me here. I’m happy to do whatever you want, it’s up to you.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “Uh…could you maybe help me? My hair is matted and I don’t think I can fix it on my own.”

There was probably a spell you could have used—some sort of detangling charm to help get the mats out. But Sirius had gotten used to not being able to use magic, and you didn’t feel like using it either. The truth was, you preferred it this way.

It was an excuse to get close to him again and spend time with him.

It was an excuse to take care of him.

You nodded, turning around to grab your brush. You kept your eyes on his as you sat down on the edge of the tub, trying your best not to let your eyes wander. You set your brush on your knees, reaching for a cup off the ledge of the tub to dip down into the water and fill up.

“Tilt your head back for me, love,” you directed, smoothing your hand over his hairline as he tipped back far enough for you to pour the water over his hair.

You repeated the process a few more times before setting the cup down and grabbing the conditioner. You smoothed it through his hair, gently tugging at the knots with your fingers before you grabbed your brush. It was silent while you worked, making slow but steady progress. Eventually, Sirius shifted, and the water sloshed just over the side of the tub.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking over his shoulder with guilty eyes to see if he splashed you.

“Don’t be,” you replied quickly, smoothing a comforting hand across his shoulder before moving back up to his hair. “Are you alright? Getting cold?”

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, before deciding against it and closing it. He just shook his head, growing silent once more. You knew there was something he wasn’t saying, and you didn’t want to push him. But you hadn’t made much progress with his hair, and you didn’t fancy sitting in silence for the rest of the evening.

You set your brush down, gently smoothing your palm over his hair. “Sirius…you can tell me anything. You know that, right? I know this feels strange, but it’s still me you’re talking to. Alright? It’s me. There’s nothing you can’t tell me. Whatever it is, I’m here to listen.”

There was another splash as he shifted, twisting around to face you. He was going to say that he’d tell you another time, and that he didn’t have it in him to say it just yet.

But then he looked into your eyes.

And you were looking at him with such sincerity and warmth that he couldn’t help but spill. You watched his eyes fill with tears, and you quickly reached for his hand which he gladly let you take.

“I saw Harry,” he finally choked out.

You felt your breath catch in your chest. A deep sorrow spread through you, filling your gut with dread. You could feel your own tears stinging behind your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. It wasn’t the time for them.

“He looks just like them, doesn’t he?” You breathed, squeezing Sirius’s hand. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Remus promised he’d say hello for me once he got to Hogwarts.”

“He knows who you are?” Sirius asked, his voice full of surprise.

“Dumbledore wouldn’t tell me where he was when they came for him. The bastard said I was “in no shape” to look after him, and it was too dangerous for me to get involved. I tried so many times to get him to tell me, but I knew he had already pushed me and Remus to the back of the list as far as who could be around Harry…I didn’t even catch a glimpse of him until he was eight. Merlin, you have no idea how angry I was when I found out they had given him to Petunia and her sorry excuse for a husband.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. You could see the anger brewing inside him, watching as he took deep breaths to calm himself. But he didn’t let it out on you. He just squeezed your hand, tightening his grip.

Sirius cleared his throat. “Did you try and go get him?”

“Dumbledore threatened to have my magic taken away if I didn’t leave the matter be. He didn’t tell me anything about Harry or where he was kept hidden away. He just brought me a picture of him, and promised that when it was finally time for Harry to go to Hogwarts, he’d let me see him. Remus had to keep an eye on me till he was sure I wouldn’t do something stupid before that time came. He’d been waiting as long as me—he’s just better than me at patience, I guess.”

“You never were very good at being patient,” Sirius mused, but you could hear the strain in his voice as he spoke.

You gave him a tight lipped smile, trying your best to mean it. “Anyway, I met Harry for the first time in Diagon Alley. Dumbledore finally let me see him under the condition that it be in a public and magical place—but I wasn’t allowed to tell him about you.”

Sirius frowned, and you could feel your chest tighten. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, your eyes in your lap.

“I wanted to tell him—so badly. But Dumblefore wouldn’t let me. All I could say was that I was a friend of Harry’s parents, and that I was there to help him get ready for school. I finally told him I was his godmother last summer when I took him for school supplies again. He spent the afternoon asking me about how I knew his parents. He kept pressing for every detail about them and how I knew them, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I told him everything about James and Lily I could remember. It just about killed me—”

Your words caught in your throat, cutting you short. Sirius reached his other hand up to reach for yours, his brows furrowing in concern. You looked up, giving him a sad smile.

You swallowed, choking back tears. “He’s so like them, Sirius. He’s got James’s ridiculous hair, and Lily’s fire. I can hardly look at him without seeing her eyes staring back at me. It’s so fucking unfair.”

A pained sound was pulled from Sirius’s throat, and you stopped yourself from talking about James and Lily any further. You grabbed the brush again, burying your nose in your work as you tried to ignore the sorrow you caught in his eyes before he turned his head straight.

“Tell me about it,” you prompted, changing the subject. “Tell me about him.”

Sirius was quiet a moment, like he was trying to find the right words. “He was…beautiful.”

You smiled, nodding for him to continue as you worked the knots out of his hair.

“He’s got this little witch by his side who quite honestly scared me—”

“Hermione,” you finished for him, grinning. “She’s a wonder, isn’t she? Ron, too.”

Sirius nodded, wringing his hands. “I’m glad Harry has someone. They seem like good friends. He’ll at least have them by his side to keep him from getting into too much trouble. He’ll certainly have a better shot than we did.”

You chuckled, smoothing your hand over his hair. “Remus told me he’s doing really well. It was a big year for him, but…he’ll be alright. We’ll see to that now.”

Sirius stiffened, turning around to face you. You paused what you were doing, setting down the brush. His eyes were lowered, his voice quiet as he spoke.

“I told him he could come stay with me, at least once it was safe to and he was able. I wasn’t really thinking about where that would be. My first thought was Grimmauld Place, but I don’t think I can stomach having him there. It’s not right. But I didn’t think to ask you—”

“Sirius, love,” you interrupted, gently cupping his cheek. “This is your home. You can invite whoever you want—you don’t have to ask my permission. And Harry will always be welcome here. If it’s what he wants, he can come stay with us. It can be his home too.”

His eyes softened, and his shoulders fell as he let out a breath of relief. “Merlin, I missed you.”

You could feel yourself growing emotional again, but you refused to let it show. There was so much you wanted to say to him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak without your eyes welling with tears. You just cleared your throat as you leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder.

“Tilt your head back for me again, darling,” you managed to whisper, rinsing his hair out. “Almost done. We’ll get you cleaned up so you can rest, alright?”

—

Not long after, you had Sirius clean and out of the tub, bundled up under the pile of blankets you had dragged over to your bed. He looked a bit ridiculous buried under them all, but it made you smile seeing him comfortable, and he was very happy to oblige you.

You laid next to him, under a considerably less amount of layers. “Warm enough?”

A warm laugh came from next to you as Sirius rolled over to face you. “Yeah, I think I’m all set, darling.”

You smiled, and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Out of habit—one you didn’t even know you still had—you reached for his hand under the sheets. You used to always wind down every night like this, cherishing the time you had together. You never knew how much longer you’d be able to do it with the war raging on, and you both got quite used to doing this each night.

Sirius stiffened in surprise when he felt your fingers reach his, but he quickly recovered once he realized what you were doing. He let you take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers.

“This bed is so soft,” he murmured, tilting his chin down to look at you. “I forgot how soft it was.”

You tried not to let your mind wander, thinking about the sleeping conditions he would have had in Azkaban. He would tell you one day about what it was like there.

Neither of you were prepared to talk about it just yet.

“Do you wanna sleep somewhere else? I could make up the couch—”

“No, love,” he said, squeezing your hand. “This is good.”

You nodded, resting your head against the pillow. Another silence fell over the room. You shuffled to get a little closer, absentmindedly tracing your thumb along the back of his hand. Sirius let out a heavy sigh, drawing your attention up to him. You waited for him to speak, lying still until he looked down and his eyes met yours. There was a pain in them you couldn’t describe.

“Did you think I did it?”

You sucked in a breath, your grip on his hand tightening. You could feel his eyes on you as you frowned, bring your joined hands up from under the sheets to rest on top of the blanket.

You had been waiting for him to ask you this.

You knew he must have spent the past decade wondering what you thought happened. He’d sat in that cell all alone, thinking his wife thought he was a cold blooded murderer who had killed her best friends.

The world thought he was a killer. Why wouldn’t you?

You dropped his hand, gently reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm against yours, a pink flush spreading. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? You didn’t know. You caressed his cheek, giving him a sad smile. You could see his eyes welling with tears.

“No,” you finally said, your voice sure. “I didn’t think it was you. I didn’t know what had happened, but I didn’t think it was you.”

Sirius let out a breath, his voice cracking. “Really?”

You swallowed hard, nodding.

“You would have died before ever hurting James—and you would have done a lot worse to save him. There wasn’t a single part of me that thought you could have killed James and Lily. I just couldn’t fathom it. There was no one in this world you loved more than them, and I knew that it couldn’t have been you. I didn’t know they had made Peter the secret keeper last minute, and I didn’t know where his body was if he was supposed to be dead, but I knew you had absolutely nothing to do with it. I think Remus knew it too…deep down. He thought I was crazy with the theories I was coming up with to try and absolve you. But he never truly blamed you—and eventually, we stopped talking about it all together. It hurt too much to keep trying to solve the mystery. It was easier to let it go.”

Fresh tears spilled, and Sirius was quick to wipe them away. Your heart ached at his kindness, even after all these years. All these years of solitude when you had left him behind, and yet, he was the one consoling you.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, composing yourself the best you could. “I’m so sorry I didn’t try harder to get you back. I’m so sorry you had to suffer there all those years while I got to just keep living my life. You don’t know how sorry I am. Please forgive me, Sirius.”

Sirius quickly shook his head, his palm resting against your cheek. “None of that, pretty girl. It’s not your fault—”

“But it is,” you tried to say, but he just kept shaking his head.

“Well, I don’t care—it doesn’t matter…I don’t blame you. I never blamed you, darling. So stop blaming yourself. I’m sure you’ve spent long enough doing that, and I won’t watch you torture yourself. Don’t you think we’ve both been through enough torture?”

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. He was so strong. It shocked you, just how strong he was. He had been through so much, and yet he still carried himself like the man you knew. He still let other people lean on him even when it should have been him doing the leaning. It was remarkable, really.

“Since when did you get so wise?” You asked, and you had mustered a grin that made him smile too. “Where’s the stubborn man I once knew?”

Sirius shrugged. “He’s still in here somewhere. Just needs a little practice. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll meet him again soon.”

You scoffed, breathing out a laugh. “That’s alright. I kinda missed him.”

Sirius chuckled, and your smile widened. This felt easy—this was good. You were so worried that, after all this time, you wouldn’t know how to act around each other. You were so afraid that Sirius would walk around the flat like a ghost of the man who once called it home. But he didn’t. It only took him a few hours to start cracking jokes, brushing his fingers against yours.

It wasn’t perfect—neither of you expected it to be.

But it gave you hope. Sirius was going to be okay. You both were going to be okay. And you’d get there together.

—

A/N - Hi! Again, I'm so sorry for the wait. I honestly don’t love the outcome of this, but I figured I’d finish it anyways. I loved this request, and I just kept coming back to it and adding it. Hopefully this is what you were looking for, sorry if it’s shit. Thanks for the request :)

#sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black x you #sirius black angst #sirius black x reader #the marauders #marauders x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter #right where you left me #taylor swift #folklore

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p0orbaby · 3 months ago

Text

Teddy Picker

summary: three’s a crowd might be an understatement

warnings: none

a/n: based on this request !

word count: 1k

Your bedroom is a war zone, but instead of landmines, it’s littered with plushies. Innocent, wide-eyed plushies. Each one has a name, a backstory, and possibly a retirement plan, because you take this stuff seriously. There’s Mr. Fluffington, the bear who "survived" your university years, Miss Whiskers, a cat with a questionable amount of fur left after years of cuddling, and God knows how many others.

Leah’s in bed, wedged between a life-size llama and a squishy avocado. She’s trying to read, but there’s a giraffe’s neck poking her in the eye, and a penguin is wedged under her knee in a way that defies the laws of physics. The woman’s practically sweating from the effort of not losing it.

“It’s like sleeping in a zoo,” she says, not for the first time. You’re not sure if she’s talking to you, herself, or Mr. Snuggles, the elephant who’s somehow become the unofficial leader of the bed plushies. “Except none of these animals breathe, and they all look like they’re judging me”

She’s not wrong. They do have that creepy, glassy-eyed stare going on. It’s the kind of gaze that says, “I’m cute, but if you fall asleep, I might just steal your soul”

You, of course, are oblivious to this. You’re flitting around the room, busy finding space for the latest addition—a bright pink octopus with a smile so wide it’s borderline unhinged. You plop it down right in the middle of the bed, where it immediately claims dominion over the blankets. Leah watches this, her jaw tightening like she’s about to have a full-blown existential crisis.

“Babe, I love you,” she starts, the tone you’ve come to recognize as the precursor to a very serious, possibly relationship-defining conversation. “But we’re running out of bed”

“We have a king-size bed,” you point out helpfully, like the size of the bed has anything to do with the impending suffocation she’s feeling.

“And yet, somehow, I’m sleeping in the fetal position on the edge of a cliff,” Leah retorts, kicking at a plushie that’s taken up residence near her foot. “Why is there a taco in our bed? We don’t even eat tacos in bed”

“It’s not just a taco,” you correct her, as if this explains everything. “It’s Señor Taco, and he represents my love of Mexican cuisine”

Leah blinks. Slowly. Like she’s buffering and trying really, really hard not to crash.

“And why is Señor Taco touching my leg?”

“He’s being friendly?”

“I swear to God, if one more inanimate object gets near my leg…”

“Look,” you say, climbing into the plushie mountain, where you promptly disappear like it’s some kind of portal to a magical, fluffy realm. You poke your head out, like a meerkat surveying the savannah. “They’re just… comforting”

Leah sighs, closing her book, or at least trying to, but it’s hard when the pages are partially obscured by a duck with a beanie. “I’m sure they are, but it’s like sleeping in a furnace. Do you know how much heat these things trap? I woke up last night thinking I was being smothered by a goddamn Build-A-Bear”

You laugh because, honestly, the mental image is hilarious, but Leah looks dead serious. She probably had a near-death experience with a rogue teddy bear last night, and here you are, making fun of her.

“We can get rid of some,” you offer, half-heartedly, because you both know you’re lying. You’re not getting rid of a single plushie. Not Mr. Fluffington, not Señor Taco, and definitely not the avocado, which you’ve started using as a neck pillow.

“Uh-huh,” Leah says, unconvinced. “And which one of these childhood relics are you going to sacrifice to save our relationship?”

You look around, as if there’s even the slightest chance you’ll willingly part with any of them. “What about the avocado?”

Leah perks up. “Really?”

“No, I was kidding. Avocados are healthy”

Leah groans, pushing the giraffe away from her face. “At this point, I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to plushies”

“They’re hypoallergenic,” you assure her, because you googled that once in a fit of paranoia after you brought home Mr. Snuggles and Leah sneezed for three days straight. She’s giving you a look now, one that says she’s rethinking every single decision she’s made since meeting you.

“Just… maybe… one night?” she pleads, voice softening, appealing to your nonexistent sense of reason. “One night without the army of stuffed animals?”

“Where would they sleep?”

“Anywhere but here. In the living room, in a wardrobe, in a goddamn plushie cemetery for all I care”

You pretend to think it over. “But then they’ll be lonely”

Leah throws her head back on the pillow and stares at the ceiling, contemplating the chain of events that have led her to this moment. “I think you’re confusing your feelings with theirs”

“Maybe,” you admit, settling in next to her, your body flush against hers, although there’s really only so much of Leah you can touch because Señor Taco’s taking up most of the space between you. You snuggle into her shoulder, despite the llama’s best efforts to wedge itself between you.

Leah wraps an arm around you, half-heartedly, more out of habit than actual affection at this point. “One night,” she whispers, like she’s making some sort of solemn vow. “One night where I’m not suffocating under a pile of polyester and fake fur”

You hum in response, already half-asleep, because honestly, plushies are the best. They’re soft, they don’t talk back, and they definitely don’t complain about how hot it is in the bed. They’re perfect, and Leah should really be more appreciative of the cute little ecosystem you’ve built here.

As you drift off, Leah’s already strategizing. She’s probably planning a plushie heist, one where she sneaks out of bed in the dead of night and smuggles Mr. Snuggles and his plushie gang out of the room and into some faraway closet.

But for now, you’re both stuck. You in your plushie paradise, and Leah in her plushie purgatory.

It’s a good thing you love each other because honestly, if there’s anything that’s going to test this relationship, it’s Señor Taco and his posse of cuddly, suffocating friends.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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phas3d · 5 months ago

Note

Slytherin boys as gamer bfs and what games they would play with their significant other?

Gamers >:) | Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: cock fighting, animal cruelty, gambling, threats (these are all for fucking tom bc ofc it is...) - suicide joke (mattheo)

contains :: draco, tom. mattheo, theodore, lorenzo

notes :: im ngl idk half of these games in depth - i just heard and seen the sterotypes of these games - fps = first person shooter, dbh = detroit become human, abg = asian baby girl, bow = breathe of the wild ||

DRACO MALFOY sims 4 / roblox

This man sucks ass at gaming, he literally can't do it

His aim is shit, he screams when he's in a fight, and he rage quits the second he loses

So he has to stick to girly games

He has so many mods and cc for sims that it's insane

His pc runs like it's on life support because of this, pls save that poor computer

And he likes playing roblox too sometimes

But he doesn't even play the normal games

Bro plays Dress To Impress and Maple Hospital...

Like what the fuck are you doing there??? Go on BloxFruits or smth man

What's even worse is he eats EVERYONEEE up in Dress to Impress, he literally always top 3

And when he isn't top 3, he curses and swears but it doesn't go through cause tags

He literally cannot do obbys either oh my fucking god

You know that one meme of Sadness from Inside Out dropping her popcorn and someone quote-tweets it saying, "Damn she can't do anything"

That's exactly who Draco is when it comes to gaming

TOM RIDDLE dark web gambling / elden ring

Oh my fucking God this guy can't have a normal hobby ever

He doesn't game at all,,, literally just gambling bruh

He hosts illegal gambling rings online and even host some in the school basement

One time he even hosted an illegal cock ring fight...

Yes,,, he stole the chickens from Hagrid and made them fight....

He even used magic to give them powers like pokemon....

He made a fucking WATER chicken and FIRE chicken fight

Thank god he didn't actually let them kill each other, he just did it until one was near death

But back to gambling - he also manipulates people in so many ways

He casts a spell that silently chants "go all in, go all in" so it subconsciously makes people bet more

Bro even gets some students in DEBT!?!?! Like how tf did you do that and WHYYY would you do that

If someone doesn't come down to the basement in a while to gamble,,, then Tom will fix that

Besides illegal gamlbing...

He plays Elden Ring, which is pretty normal

Besides the fact that he BEAT THAT SHIT IN LIKE 2 DAYS?!!??!!?

Normally streamers, pro gamers, they all take weeks and sometimes even months just to make progress

But Tom is just,,, just better ig?

So yeah... He sticks to gambling cause every other game is just too easy for him

MATTHEO RIDDLE gta V / fortnite / rocket league / nba 2k24

God this guy is the worst sterotypical middle school boy ever

He even had the ugly ass big blue headset with the shit mic on it

Plays GTA V every now and then, only when he's angry

That's when he goes around town and just beats the shit out of everyone

Likes playing Fortnite for hours on end with his friends, mostly Theo and Lorenzo cause they can actually keep up with him (Draco is ass at FPS and

Plays rocket league and NBA 2k24 because of fucking course he does - look at him....

He's just a boy....

A really toxic one.....

Definitely screams "KILL YOURSELFFFFF!!!!!!" if he loses and honestly he's kinda real for that

THEODORE NOTT god of war / detroit become human

Loves games that have a long story

It's a good mix of story and fighting, he can't really get into pure FPS games

Have done most routes in DBH and even found easter eggs and hacks

Tries to get you into the lore as well but sometimes it goes so deep you get confused

"NO!!! Connor in route 8 is actually a pretty neutral guy and he's-"

Like bro what??? Why do you know everything about this "Connor" guy??? smh

He dabbles in some FPS sometimes, like playing Fortnite with Matt and Enzo

And he actually REALLY good

Has great aim and precision

But he just can't get into it for some reason, it's not his type

LORENZO BERKSHIRE valorant / zelda breath of the wild

I feel like Enzo playing Valorant makes so so sooo much sense

He's not AS toxic as the other guys, but he's still weird and fuck-boy-ish in his own way

Definitely plays with e-girls and tries to bag an ABG

But he gets catfished....

He's pretty good at Valorant, surprisingly

His mic stays on for every single game... Even if no one else is talking

This man will talk to a fucking wall and still be yapping

"Okay guys way I need to pee" ...

There's only bots in his server.........

He also loves RPG games and stuff like that

So BOW is perfect for him to shut off his mind and just roam and do useless tasks

#slytherin boys #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader #gaming #slytherin headcanons #harry potter headcanon

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bones4thecats · 9 months ago

Note

Hello! If you're still doing requests, could I ask for a angst (or fluff if you think that it works better) of Leona, Vil, Malleus, and/or Lilla (if I could do 4) reacting to Male!Reader having the Unique Magic of a Empathic Healer. This spell would allow the reader to heal any and all wounds inflicted on whom he's trying to healing. However, rather than creating blot to patch up the wounds, they are instead transferred onto the Reader, making it like he was the one that got the wound instead. He is well aware of the dangers and still can't stop himself because he hates people being hurt if he had the power to stop it.

I hope that this was good! Thank you for reading it at least!

M! S/O With A Emphatic Healer! UM.

Type of Writing: Request Name: M! S/O With A Emphatic Healer! Unique Magic (UM.) Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Malleus Draconia, and Lilia Vanrouge Requester: @beawesome04

A/N: This is fairly angsty with fluff at the ending of each, by the way, this is by far one of my best and favorite requests ever received! I loved the prompt and how you described everything! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!!

P.S.: For Lilia's part, I used his General! Self

⚠️ TW: Swearing, mentions of war and harm ⚠️ Spoilers for: Books 2 and 7 ⚠️

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Male! Reader ; Reader Heals Leona From Overblot

🦁 Leona was sorer than he ever has been in his entire life

🦁 Opening his eyes with a massive groan, he could hear the sounds of crying and whimpers while people both yelled and ordered people in different ways, this large amount of sounds made his ears pucker down towards his skull as his eyesight became clearer

🦁 Looking at the sky, Leona noticed that a small amount of liquid dripped onto his face, making him slightly flinch and fully open his eyes, catching the sight of a large cut forming onto his boyfriend’s forehead

🦁 His eyes widened as he lunged upwards and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest as he asked you what you were doing

" I- I just wanted you to be okay… " " Y'know what your unique magic does to you, Y/N! I may be okay, but you'd be damaged just as badly, you dumbass! " " It's better me than you. " " No! It was my fault for letting my emotions control me so easily, not yours! "

🦁 Leona furrowed his eyebrows as you began to crack and start crying as he held you closely, then he noticed that you had quite a few bruises and burns from no doubt healing others and him

🦁 As his eyesight began to slosh over with tears of his own, he gripped your tighter, minding where you had injuries. And as he noticed you begin to sob harder, his tail wrapped around your leg protectively

" Leona- I mean, Housewarden? " " What? " " Is he alright? " " He'll be fine… but he might need to heal himself. I’ll take 'em to the nurse. " " You better get fixed up yourself, Leona! " " Yeah, yeah… "

🦁 Looking down at your frail form, Leona sighed internally. What did he, a lazy and arrogant second-born prince, do to deserve your caring and comforting self?

Male! Reader ; Reader Helps Heal Others From A Poison-Blast

👑 Vil knew that you cared for others, and he also would scold you whenever you would end up in some bad spots because of your care for others. But this was too far

👑 He understood that other students outside of certain dorms, Pomefiore and Diasomnia, weren’t the best when it comes to handling poisons and other dangerous concoctions, but this was officially topping any kind of incident he had ever seen before

👑 A second-year had accidentally splashed something into their cauldron which resulted in a poisonous 'bomb' that had affected multiple of the members in their class

👑 And because you hated seeing people being hurt, you had jumped in and began to help others with the poison by using your unique magic

👑 This healed them, but resulted in the poisoning affecting you instead

👑 Now Vil was staring down as you as you drank multiple poison-antidotes in order for your body to heal more naturally

" What were you thinking, Y/N? " " I’m sorry, Vil. But, I couldn’t just watch as they suffered from such pain. You know what my weaknesses are! "

👑 Sighing and running his hands down your bandage-wrapped arms as he sat down next to you, Vil began to hum a small tune that he had heard over the radio a few days prior

👑 He knew you liked this song, and you smiled gently and grabbed his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. Vil just looked into your eyes and loosened his stance slightly

" Just- don’t get over your head like this again, please… " " I promise on my collection of photo-albums of us. " " Good answer, Meine Liebe. "

( Meine Liebe = German for "My Love" )

Male! Reader ; Healing Yuu From Leona’s Overblot

🐉 Malleus was not amused when you jumped into the battle against Leona’s overblot state and began to try healing others, as he knew how dangerous your unique magic was to yourself

🐉 He then began to use his magic to levitate others into the healer’s direction, but he tried to get them away from you

🐉 Unfortunately, you had found the injure-ridden magicless prefect, Yuu Sei, on the ground and you began to use your magic faster than Riddle would be to behead someone for taking his strawberry tart

🐉 He looked around and noticed that Yuu was waking as your once-clean frame was being tattered with bruises and scratches alike all from the human

🐉 When he finally was able to pull you away from everyone else, he began to use his own magic to heal you, his eyebrows furrowed as he silently worked away on each cut, bruise, and injury alike

🐉 Once finished, he looked into your eyes and sighed deeply before embracing you tightly as he burrowed his face into your neck and took in your scent

" Why…? " " Why what, Mal? " " Why risk your own life for a human's? " " You and I both know that Yuu has value. One beyond many of us', they make me want to protect them more than any other mortal, well- besides Sebek and Silver, I suppose. "

🐉 He watched as you began to debate with yourself as your injuries faded away second-by-second. A small smile overtook his features as he hugged you again and you embraced him back

" I love you, my Healing Beauty. " " And I love you, my Darling Prince. "

( Men can be beautiful too. Bite me. )

Male! Reader ; Healing Him During the Fae v. Human War

🦇 Groaning in pain as he held his side while you hid beside him, Lilia felt the slight amount of blood begin to fall from his midsection. These damned mortals were getting more powerful by the second

🦇 Hopefully the others were doing just as well as before… he cannot afford to lose any more men in this treacherous war

🦇 He turned as he heard you move and roll your uniform’s sleeves up as you pushed your butterfly mask aside and began to chant your small unique spell’s name

" Y/N… what- what are you doing?! You know what that damned spell does to you! " " I don’t care at the moment, Lilia. Your health matters more. " " Bullshit! Y/N, I’ll be fine, just step aside and let me- " " Lilia. As your spouse I will heal you, no matter what. "

🦇 Giving in as you stared at him deadly, Lilia watched as your arms began to glow with many symbols of healing, from ones ranging from those in the burning Savannah to ones in your homeland of Briar Valley

🦇 He then watched as the pain began to fade from his side, but he also noticed how you began to look faint. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling bad

" Love, I'm fine now. The bleeding isn’t as bad as before, it should heal faster… take a break- please. " " Alright… "

🦇 Laying back on the tree, Lilia tore open a satchel that was once thrown aside by one of the previous human soldiers, he ran towards you and began to apply both alcohol to his and yours minor wound that was slightly leaking blood before wrapping them in gauze

" Alright, we should be fine now. Do you feel better, Mango? " " Yeah, thanks Lils. " " No problem, Dearest. "

( Fun facts: Butterflies symbolize rebirth, transformation, and the delicate balance between life and death & Mangos are one of a bat’s favorite fruits )

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bradshawssugarbaby · 11 months ago

Text

God, Your Mama and Me (Jake Seresin x Reader)

A/N: told y'all I listened to country music and it inspired me. Inspired by and quotes God, Your Mama and Me by Florida Georgia Line. I'm not religious but that song gets me all heart-eye emoji every time.

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader (I'm 99% sure I kept reader GN the whole time with no mentions of appearance)

content/warnings: reference to God via the song (the line is "no one's ever gonna love you more than God, your mama and me"), Jake being adorable and trying his best to be romantic but he's more awkward than he wants to be bc he doesn't do PDA, brief references to potential character death (I promise no one dies)

word count: 1.6k

Jake took you by the hand, running playfully through the sand. Coronado Beach was where he’d taken you for your first date. It was where you’d met, where you spent every free weekend, where you’d meet with his friends at The Hard Deck for drinks on Friday nights and where you’d sit and watch the planes taking off from North Island as you waited for him to come home, not knowing what each day would bring but hoping and praying he’d come home to you safe and sound every time.

For the last three years, Coronado was an integral part of your life. It was where you’d held Jake’s 35th birthday party, a spontaneous beach gathering complete with a cooler of chilled beers and a portable speaker belting out country tunes. Despite the groans from others, the music had a magical effect on the usually reserved Jake, prompting him to join in with spirited, off-key singing every time.

It was where you and Jake had shared your first kiss, where he’d first told you he loved you - a sentence he admitted he never thought he’d say to anyone, swearing up and down he’d lead the bachelor life until he either died or retired, whichever came first. He’d always claim it was because he just “wasn’t the settlin’ type”, but his friends always saw right through it.

“He’s just scared,” Bradley had assured you one day over a beer while Jake tossed darts effortless at the board a few feet out of earshot.

Reading the puzzled look on your face, Natasha hummed playfully as she sipped her drink before raising an eyebrow at you.

“He doesn’t want to settle down because he’s scared,” She and Bradley nodded in unison.

“Yeah, doesn’t wanna leave behind a war widow kinda thing,” Bradley shrugs, “You’d think it’d be me who feels that way considering my dad died when I was literally a toddler, but no, apparently it’s Blondie who’s got the commitment issues.”

The first time Jake referred to you as his girl, the usually chatty Bradley had been rendered speechless, mouth agape while Natasha had choked and sputtered on her beer as she looked wide eyed at Bradley and back at Jake. Jake shrugged it off as if it was nothing, but everyone, even you, knew it was uncharacteristic of him.

The following weekend after stunning his Navy buddies, he’d been called away to the first mission since you’d started dating. You weren’t expecting it, but you got a heartfelt, emotional goodbye from Jake, one that was genuine and raw, a side of him you’d never seen before. He’d hugged you tightly and kissed you slow and sweet, making it last, permanent on your mind in case he didn’t make it back. As he promised you he’d return, you could hear his normally velvety smooth Southern drawl crack as his voice caught in his throat.

When he came home a few weeks later, you’d greeted him with a warm embrace, and he held you tighter than he ever had before, his first true public display of affection towards you. Bradley and Natasha could be heard whispering, while Bob simply looked on smiling, knowing how in love Jake really was, watching as it mirrored Bob’s own relationship with his girlfriend.

“Jake, where are you taking me?”

You laughed as you snapped back to the present, raising an eyebrow at him as he continued to lead you across the sand. His cargo shorts were hugging his hips perfectly, golden-tanned skin from the California sun illuminated in the light of the setting sun. His green eyes were full of a child-like excitement, his signature grin plastered on his face, looking like it couldn’t be wiped off even if you tried.

“Just trust me, ok? You trust me, don’t ya, Sugar?”

“Alright, alright, I trust you.”

“Atta girl, c’mon, almost there.”

You shook your head and shot him a playful eyeroll as he continued to guide you along the shore. Your mind flashed back to when you and Jake had first slept together - instead of the playful arrogance, overwhelming confidence and cocky egotistical attitude he gave off around his friends, he was the opposite when it came to loving you. He was gentle, caring, passionate and considerate. He checked in with you, making sure you were comfortable and enjoying it. He was selfless in the way he loved you - making sure you were taken care of in all aspects before he was, and if for whatever reason, his climax came before yours, he made a point to bring you to yours by whatever means necessary.

When Jake asked you to move in with him, the look on your face was one of pure shock and disbelief, you were sure you were dreaming it. Your wide-eyed gaze and raised eyebrows were enough to make Jake laugh, shaking his head at you.

“Now that’s not how I thought you’d react, babe.”

“I’m sorry…I just…can you say it again?”

“Ask you again?”

“Yeah, please?”

“Ok, Sugar, you’re losin’ it, but sure, I want you to move in with me, that sound alright to ya? We both complain we don’t see each other enough, and well, I just feel like it’s time we do somethin’ ‘bout it, right?”

You nodded your head and simply threw your arms around him, letting Jake embrace you tightly as he kissed your cheek. He had his friends help you pack and by the end of that week, you were moved in with him, sharing the little house on base together. His Cowboys jersey hanging in the closet next to your Commanders one - your teams were bitter rivals, and Bradley, who had come from Virginia, your home state, was beyond shocked to see Jake allowing you to wear a Commanders jersey to their Sunday night football watch parties. Bradley, forced to wear a jersey for another team, pouted at Jake.

“How come when I wear my Commanders jersey, I get told to fuck off and stay outside?”

“You don’t look cute in Washington’s colours, Bradshaw,” Jake replied matter of factly as he kissed you on the cheek, leaving Bradley to pout once again.

Jake stopped in front of you, turning his body to face you, bringing you back to reality for another moment. His unwavering grin still on his face, smiling at you as if you were the only sight around him for miles. Your heart melted when he looked at you - it always did - the love he had for you was always evident on his face, his gaze full of admiration and affection for you.

Your eyes widened as Jake went down on one knee in front of you. The sounds of the waves crashing against the sandy coast echoing softly around you. The odd passerby gawking as they went for their stroll in the dusky glow of the beach as the sun began to set on Coronado. Jake beamed up at you from where he stood on bended knee, his eyes matching the seafoam that was pooling around you, inching closer and closer to where you stood.

“Darlin’, remember that date I took ya on, where you made me dance with ya on the beach, after I swore I never would? That song you made me dance to, the one by Florida Georgia Line?”

“I remember,” you said, gazing at him with tear soaked eyes.

“Sugar, you know I’m not good at this kinda stuff - it’s more Bradley’s thing, being all sentimental and shit, but I’m gonna try my damnest, ok? You know how that song goes, “Baby you know my love is never gonna run dry, never gonna come up empty, now until the day I die, unconditionally,”

Jake’s cheeks blushed a soft pink as he tried his best to carry the tune, serenading you by the oceanside, “then it’s like, “You know I’m always gonna be here for ya, no one’s ever gonna love you more than God, your mama and me”? Guess that’s what I’m tryin’ to say here, no one on this earth is gonna be able to love you, or anyone else more than I do. I’m sure of it. I didn’t even think it was possible for me to love you as much as I do, but Baby, do I ever love you.”

“Jake,” you started, feeling yourself becoming breathless with excitement as he spoke.

“Babygirl, will you do me the greatest honor ever, and become Mrs. Seresin? I never thought I’d ever marry anyone, but I’d be a fool to not marry you, darlin’.”

Speechless, you nodded your head quickly, unable to make any sound other than an excited squeal of delight as he slipped the ring onto your finger. As Jake stood upright, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in a loving embrace, his lips crashing against yours as he kissed you passionately.

From behind you, you could hear familiar voices cheering - you broke the kiss and turned to see Reuben, Javy, Mickey, Bradley, Natasha and Bob standing there, all beaming at you. Bradley wiped a single tear from his eye in his usual dramatic fashion, while Bob gave a proud thumbs up to Jake. A congratulatory smile formed on Natasha’s features, while Javy, Mickey and Reuben all applauded you both. You were overcome with emotion as you shared this moment with Jake and your friends.

“You all knew?”

“Of course we knew, Jake can’t keep a secret to save his life,” Natasha grinned, shrugging her shoulders.

“I get to be best man, right?” Bradley grinned as he clapped his hand onto Jake’s shoulder in a congratulatory substitute for a hug.

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artethyst · 11 months ago

Text

~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister! Reader/OC

“Lucien,” Eris growled, stalking over to his sobbing and heavily pregnant mate, his brother could only stand there awkwardly, in a fruitless attempt to soothe her.

“I swear I had no part in this!” The Emissary raised his hands in mock surrender as his sister in law continued to cry, unrelenting tears spilling down her pale cheeks.

Eris sighed, and whilst he wished she would stay inside like the Healers had recommended, he couldn’t deny her anything.

His only request was that his brother chaperone her should she feel restless, especially if he happened to be caught up in meetings he was unable to be in absence of.

Eris gently removed his overcoat and draped it over her shoulders, overly paranoid that she would catch a chill in her weakened state and ignored the way Lucien rolled his eyes at his brother’s worrying.

Lucien knew, beneath everything, the feared High Lord of Autumn was nothing but a softie. A mama’s boy who would do anything for his wife should she merely ask of it.

He was certain Eris would have surrendered even his own crown- the one he had spent centuries suffering for, if it meant she was happy.

“I can’t understand what she’s saying,” Lucien was almost just as panicked, knowing whatever was wrong he’d surely be blamed for it.

“Well, we both know how successful you are with the ladies,” Eris drawled and Lucien snarled at the reference to his own mate. “My work is done for the day, you may leave.”

Lucien bowed and sent one lasting gaze at the two of them, admittedly unnerved by her frantic state.

Until recently he had never seen her cry in the many years of knowing her, and whilst he would never admit it out loud, she had always been his favourite member of the Inner Circle.

“My love,” Eris soothed her by playing with her hair, she had found solace against his hard chest as she let out small gasps, taking comfort in his scent as he provided comforting waves of love down the bond. “Tell me, what is making you so upset, hmm?”

His words held no taunt as she sniffled, and he would never tell her that he found it rather endearing how she looked- so vulnerable with her cheeks aflame and violet eyes glossy.

“T-That hawk!” She whimpered, a shaky hand moving to point at the tree before them, and only he could’ve understood her choked out words as they were sobbed into him. “I-It pushed a p-poor baby b-bird out of i-its nest a-and-“ the next part was too horrific for her to say and she cried harder as Eris sighed, stroking the back of her neck.

Oh, for anyone to see her now.

The Crown Princess of the Night Court, feared magic wielder who helped slaughter many in the war and High Lady of Autumn, brought to tears- over a baby bird.

He supposed it had something to do with the little flame growing in her stomach.

“E-Eri I want you to kill it,” the soft tone of her voice betrayed its sentiment as he paused his ministrations for a moment, his eyebrow raised in amusement. “Make it p-pay for s-slaughtering that d-defenceless creature!”

He withheld a chuckle at the irony of her demand, pressing a light kiss to the crown of her head before adjusting their position so her back was flush against his front.

His chin grazed her scalp as he effortlessly flicked his hand, the unassuming hawk turning to ash in an instant as she watched in satisfaction.

No matter how silly, trivial or frivolous her demand, he would always comply.

“Better now my love?” He crooned as she became giddy, throwing her arms around his neck as he breathed in her scent- a sickly sweet smell of a youngling mixed with his own.

It brought a new possessiveness- pride within him to know she now carried his smell with her, a subtle hint of spice and ember imbedded in her natural twinge of jasmine.

He felt her heart soar as she tugged against his own through the bond, her soft cheek nuzzling against his rough hand which came to gently rub at her damp skin.

“I’ve missed you,” she mumbled, as he unwittingly melted at her words, thinking he might never get used to the love she had shown him- insisted that he deserved.

“You saw me this morning Bunny,” he teased as she pouted.

“That was hours ago!” She insisted guiding his calloused palm to her slightly protruding stomach. “I need you…We need you.”

He couldn’t help a genuine smile overtaking his wry smirk, feeling the life they created flicker beneath their joined hands.

“It seems our little ember agrees,” he mused and despite his biting fear of her upcoming labour, as everyone knew- Fae births were not only extremely rare, but horrifically dangerous, despite it all he was happy.

Despite what having a child would mean, a new threat to him he had no doubt people would take advantage of, he couldn’t help but feel at peace too.

At peace with himself. At peace with his mate and their unborn baby which would soon complete their little makeshift family.

#eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris vanserra x reader #eris x oc #eris vanserra x oc #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x oc #eris vandaddy #acotar fic #fanfic

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onebadassunicorn · 24 days ago

Text

His Blue-Eyed Angel

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: war, blood, gore, depression, feelings of hopelessness, serious angst

word count: 4.5k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Story tags: @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @tiredsleepyhead @celestialgilb @theflowerswillbloom @fuckingsimp4azriel @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @salvatoresister1 @imperfect0angel @stvrdustalexx

Image owned by Dream World Dweller.

For more amazing artwork by this artist, join Patreon and become a subscriber to this artist's collections!

********************

Chapter 16

Y/n POV

I lay in the cold dirt, my body trembling as pain rippled through me. The faebane arrows had stolen my magic, and with it, any chance of defending myself. My sword had fallen from my grip, and my wings were broken in places, the feathers bloodied. I could feel the damp earth pressing against my skin, feel the vibration of Hybern soldiers around me, their boots stomping closer, their laughter ringing in my ears.

But it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. The bond. The faint hum of it still pulsed, fragile and delicate, as though mocking me with its existence.

My mate.

The love of my life.

Azriel.

A tear slipped down my dirt-streaked face as I stared up at the ashen sky. It was funny, I thought bitterly, how life could be so wonderful and yet so cruel in the same breath. How in one moment, I could meet the love of my life, the one the Mother had made just for me, and in the very next, he was ripped away - taken from me before I’d even had the chance to understand what it truly meant.

The thought burned through my mind, sharp and relentless. Why hadn’t I realized it when he looked at me with that quiet intensity, when his voice softened as he called me angel? Why hadn’t I felt it when he trained me, when we visit Velaris together, when we watch the stars at night, when his hands lingered just a second too long on my wrist, or when he spoke to me in that low, gruff tone that made my heart race?

I saw the devastation on his face, the love and regret warring within him. And despite the exhaustion, the blood, and the agony of the moment, my heart swelled with something fierce and unyielding.

I loved him.

More than life, more than anything.

I had loved him long before I understood the bond, and now it burned through me, consuming every part of me.

But there was no time for it.

Not now.

I had been blind to the truth. Or perhaps, I hadn’t wanted to believe it. Not when Azriel was so wrapped up in Elain, so seemingly out of reach.

But he loved me the entire time.

Me.

And now?

Now, I knew. I had felt it when the bond snapped into place—an electric cord that had ignited my very soul. I’d seen it in his eyes, felt it in the way his voice cracked when he said, “I love you.”

I’ll come back for you. I swear it.

I let out a ragged breath, the tears slipping freely now. Wasn’t it cruel? To finally find him—my mate—only to have to let him go and save Elain? To watch him soar away, carrying someone else to safety while I stood my ground, knowing I couldn’t ask him to stay. Knowing that I was doing the right thing.

My hands curled weakly into the dirt, the sting of my injuries barely noticeable compared to the agony in my heart.

Why didn’t I see it sooner?

If I had, would it have changed anything? Would I have told him that I loved him before today? Would I have fought harder for him? For myself?

I closed my eyes for a moment, the bond flickering faintly in my chest, as though it, too, was trying to hold on to life. To him.

I thought of Azriel’s face—how his expression had twisted with desperation when he called angel, how his voice had shattered when he said he loved me. The memory was a lifeline, even now, even as the soldiers swarmed closer, their cruel voices ringing out as they closed the distance.

“I love you,” I had whispered as he flew away, knowing he wouldn’t hear it.

And I’d meant it.

I would love him forever, no matter what came next.

My tears mixed with the blood on my cheeks as I lay there, my breaths shallow, my mind spiraling.

Life was cruel.

It gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for in one breath and then took it away in the next.

Azriel.

The broody, stubborn Shadowsinger.

The one who could take my breath away with just one glance.

The one whose touch I yearned for.

The one I would put above my own life.

My love.

My mate.

And yet, despite it all, I clung to that single, fragile promise that had been whispered to me before he left.

I’ll come back for you.

My fingers curled tighter into the dirt, slick with my own blood pooling underneath me as darkness crept in around me. I held onto that promise with every shattered piece of myself.

Please come back, Azriel.

******

Azriel POV

Azriel landed hard in the center of the war camp, his wings flaring wide as he touched down, Elain cradled protectively in his arms. Her pale face was streaked with dirt and blood, her body limp, her breathing faint but steady. Azriel’s chest heaved, his shadows writhing violently around him as though echoing the storm inside him.

“Feyre!” His voice rang out, sharp and urgent, cutting through the chaos of the camp.

Feyre appeared almost immediately, her bow still slung across her back, her violet eyes widening as she took in the sight of Elain in Azriel’s arms. “What happened?” she demanded, rushing toward him.

Azriel gently lowered Elain into her waiting arms, his hazel eyes dark, haunted. “Hybern took her,” he said tightly, his voice raw and rough with emotion. “Y/n… Y/n went after her Elain. She kept her safe until I could get there. Feyre—get her to the healers. Now.”

Feyre hesitated for just a moment, her gaze darting between Azriel and Elain, sensing something far worse in his tone. “Azriel—what about Y/n?”

He clenched his jaw, his wings twitching as if ready to launch himself back into the air immediately. “She stayed,” he said, his voice breaking just slightly. “She told me to go—to save Elain.” He shook his head sharply, his fists clenching. “She held Hybern’s soldiers back to I could fly. I had to leave her.”

Feyre’s eyes widened in horror. “What? No—”

“I have to go back,” Azriel said fiercely, his shadows flaring around him like a dark, living force. He turned sharply, already heading toward the command tent where Rhysand and Cassian were likely coordinating.

Azriel stormed into the command tent without waiting to be announced, his wings snapping open as his shadows spun wildly around him. Rhysand looked up from the war map, his violet eyes narrowing instantly at the look on Azriel’s face. Cassian, who had been standing nearby, froze, his brows knitting in immediate concern.

“Azriel?” Rhys demanded sharply, straightening. “What happened?”

Azriel didn’t stop as he closed the distance, his voice low and laced with devastation. “Hybern took Elain. Y/n went after her and kept her safe until I arrived. She sent me back with Elain, holding off the soldiers so I could fly.”

Cassian swore, his expression hardening. “Where’s Y/n now?”

Azriel swallowed thickly, his chest heaving as he struggled to find the words. “I had to leave her,” he choked out, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She told me to go. To save Elain. She stayed behind—she held them off.” He looked away, his jaw tight, his hands trembling faintly as his shadows coiled violently at his feet. “The bond snapped for her.”

The tent went still.

Rhysand’s face paled slightly, his violet eyes widening with shock. “The bond snapped for her? You mean – you already knew she was your mate, and you never told her?”

Azriel nodded, his voice hoarse. “Yes. I never told her.” He paused, the memory of her face burning into his mind—her wide, tear-filled eyes, the confusion, the love. “She looked at me… and she said, ‘You’re my mate.’”

Cassian cursed under his breath, pacing away before turning back, his face grim. “And you left her there?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Azriel growled, spinning toward him, his voice raw with guilt and anger. “She told me to save Elain. Time was running out. I couldn’t fly without her holding the soldiers—” His voice cracked, and his wings sagged slightly as he whispered, “I told her I loved her. I told her I was coming back for her.”

Rhysand’s face paled, his shoulders tensing as the full weight of the situation settled in. “You’re telling me she could be dead? Or Hybern has her?”

Azriel’s jaw worked as he swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Cassian cursed under his breath, pacing a few steps before turning back sharply. “If they’ve taken her, it’s because they know who she is.”

Rhysand turned his gaze to the far horizon, his power curling around him like a storm held barely in check. “There’s too much at stake. If they know she’s my sister, they’ll…” He didn’t finish the thought.

Azriel’s gaze snapped up, his hazel eyes blazing. “She’s alive. I know she’s alive. I can feel her.” The bond, though faint, pulsed weakly in his chest, a thread he refused to let go of. “But we have to go back—now.”

Cassian looked away, his jaw tight, his face shadowed with grief.

Rhysand exhaled sharply, his jaw tight as his gaze flickered between Azriel and Cassian. “We’ll go,” he said, his voice firm, though there was an edge of unease to it. “We’ll go now.”

Azriel didn’t hesitate, turning on his heel and striding out of the tent, his wings flaring as he prepared to take off.

Rhysand followed closely behind, his voice carrying low and steady as he called out, “Cassian—rally who you can. We need to move fast.”

Cassian nodded and disappeared into the camp, barking orders as he went.

Azriel paused only long enough to glance skyward, his shadows twisting restlessly around him.

Hold on, Angel, he thought fiercely.

I’m coming back for you.

The bond pulsed faintly—so faintly he could barely feel it. But it was there. It was still there. He tugged it with everything he had so she would feel him. To know she was not alone.

And as he launched into the air with Rhysand and Cassian beside him, the only thing that filled his mind was her face—her voice—her tears as she had looked at him and whispered, You’re my mate.

He would find her.

Or he would burn the entire world to the ground trying.

******

Azriel POV

The clearing was suffocating in its silence, the chaos of battle now replaced by an eerie stillness.

The remnants of battle told a grim story: blood pooled in the center of the clearing, dark and viscous, staining the earth in a sickeningly large patch.

Scattered feathers, black and tattered, lay around the pool, some clumped together, others streaked with red.

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat, as his hazel eyes locked on the feathers. His shadows lashed out in panic, coiling around his feet as he staggered forward, his boots splashing in the blood.

His hazel eyes locked on the blood pooled in the center of the clearing. It was everywhere - dark and congealed, soaking the earth in a way that made it impossible to imagine anyone surviving such a loss.

And then Azriel saw it.

The sword.

Her sword.

It lay abandoned in the dirt, the blade stained red. The earth surrounding it was soaked with blood—so much blood—dark and drying in the ash.

Azriel’s breath caught painfully in his chest. His legs faltered, and he dropped to his knees beside the sword. His trembling fingers brushed over the hilt, his shadows curling protectively around it, as if it could somehow shield him from the truth.

Cassian landed heavily beside him, his breath coming in sharp bursts as his gaze swept over the devastation. He cursed softly under his breath, his hazel eyes wide and horrified. “Az…”

Rhysand descended more quietly, his violet eyes dark and calculating as he took in the scene. His posture was tense, his jaw tight, the telltale signs of his control slipping.

Azriel’s hands trembled as he held the hilt of her sword in his hand, his shadows curling and snapping with restless fury. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, the bond between him and Y/n faint and fragile.

It pulsed weakly, like a flicker of light on the verge of going out, and it was tearing him apart.

Rhysand stepped forward, crouching near the blood. He dipped his fingers into it, testing its warmth, before rising to his full height. His face was grim as he looked at the pool, then at Azriel. “She’s lost too much blood,” he said quietly. “I don’t see how anyone could survive this.”

Azriel staggered, the words slamming into him like a physical blow. “No,” he said, his voice trembling. “No, she’s alive. She has to be.”

Cassian frowned, his brows drawing together as he looked between Azriel and Rhysand. “What happened, Az?” he asked, his voice steady but low. “What did you see when you left her?”

Azriel exhaled shakily. “She was fighting them—Hybern’s soldiers,” he said, his voice raw. “There were so many of them. She told me to save Elain, knowing I would not be fly if she didn’t hold them back. So, I did. I picked her up and flew. But before I left…” His voice faltered, his throat tightening as the memory clawed its way to the surface.

“Before you left?” Rhysand pressed, his violet eyes burning with intensity.

Azriel’s breathing was shallow, his chest heaving with the weight of his guilt. “

Cassian stepped closer, his broad frame tense as he placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Az, look at me,” he said firmly. “What happened before you flew away?”

Azriel shook his head, his shadows coiling around him in agitation. “I looked back,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I saw them—ten, maybe more—surrounding her. She was fighting them off, but they overwhelmed her. I saw her fall. I saw them drag her to the ground.”

"And I left her," Azriel said, his voice rising with anguish. "I left her there. She told me to save Elain, but I shouldn't have—I should have stayed." He dropped the hilt of her sword, his hands clutching the blood-streaked earth as his body trembled. "I left her when she finally knew, when she finally... loved me back. And now she's-" His voice broke, and he lowered his head, unable to say the words.

Cassian’s hand tightened on Azriel’s shoulder, his hazel eyes darkening. “And the bond?” he asked carefully.

“It’s faint,” Azriel rasped, his voice breaking. “So faint I can barely feel her. She’s dying, Cassian. And I left her. I—” His words dissolved into a broken sob, his hands clutching the blood-streaked earth, grabbing her bloodied feathers in his hands.

Rhysand crouched beside him, his expression cold but not unkind. “We’ll find her,” he said firmly, his voice like steel. “Do you hear me, Azriel? We’re not giving up on her.”

Azriel lifted his head, his hazel eyes swimming with tears as he looked at Rhysand. “But what if we’re too late?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “What if—”

“Then we make sure they regret ever laying a hand on her,” Rhysand said, his voice dark with promise. “But we don’t give up. Not until we know.”

Cassian straightened, his wings flaring as he glanced at Rhysand. “Then we move quickly,” he said. “But not without a solid plan first.”

Rhysand nodded, his violet eyes blazing as he rose to his full height. “Agreed.”

Azriel forced himself to stand, his legs shaking as he clung to the faint, fragile hum of the bond. The image of her wide, panicked eyes, the way she had whispered “You’re my mate” as the bond snapped. It haunted him, driving him forward even as despair threatened to crush him.

******

Azriel POV

The camp was thick with tension as Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel landed, their wings heavy and their faces etched with grim defeat. Night had fallen, the glow of distant fires casting faint shadows across the ground. Soldiers and members of the Inner Circle glanced their way as they landed, their expectant gazes quickly shifting to concern when they noticed the absence of Y/n.

Tarquin was waiting for them, but his usually composed and regal demeanor was shattered. He stood bloodied, his clothes torn and his face bruised, the aftermath of the battles he had fought to reach the camp. Despite his injuries, his sea-blue eyes blazed with fury and anguish as he stepped forward, his gaze quickly scanning the group.

“Where is my little sister?” Tarquin demanded, his voice raw and cutting through the tense air.

Rhysand stepped forward, his wings folding tightly against his back as he met Tarquin’s enraged gaze. “We couldn’t get to her in time,” he said, his voice low and grim. “Hybern’s forces had already moved out by the time we got back...they took her.”

Tarquin’s expression froze, his bloody face paling for a moment before twisting with rage and grief. He stepped towards Rhysand, his voice rising in a harsh, accusing shout. “You left her? You left her behind?”

“Tarquin—” Rhysand began, his tone steady but tense, but Tarquin cut him off.

“I trusted you!” Tarquin roared, his voice cracking with the force of his fury. “I trusted you to take care of her, Rhysand! And you—”

He turned, his furious gaze landing on Azriel, who stood as still as stone, his face pale and his hazel eyes hollow. “You were supposed to protect her. Where were you when she needed you?”

Azriel didn’t respond, his jaw tightening as his shadows swirled erratically around him, unable to contain the storm inside him. His hands trembled at his sides, clenched into fists, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet Tarquin’s furious gaze.

Tarquin’s voice broke with emotion as he turned back to Rhysand. “Do you know what they’ll do to her? Do you know what they’ll do to our little sister?”

Rhysand’s violet eyes burned as he met Tarquin’s gaze. “We will get her back,” he said firmly, his voice a low promise. “She’s not gone yet.”

“Not gone yet?” Tarquin repeated bitterly, his chest heaving with anger. “Do you understand what Hybern’s army does to their captives? She’s your little sister, Rhysand. She’s my baby sister. And now they have her. She is an Illyrian female AND The sister of two high lords. Do you know what they’ll do to her because of what she is? Because of who she is?”

“I understand the stakes. I understand what’s at risk. And I won’t stop until she’s back.” Rhysand said sharply, his wings flaring slightly as his tone cut through Tarquin’s tirade.

Tarquin’s gaze burned as he stared at Rhysand, his bloody hands trembling as he balled them into fists. After a long moment, he shook his head, his voice dropping into something colder, more threatening. “You’d better find her,” he said, his tone hard and brittle. “Because if you don’t, Rhysand, I won’t stop until I’ve made Hybern, his entire army—and you—pay for her life.”

Rhysand didn’t respond, his gaze unflinching. But for Azriel, Tarquin’s words carved deep into him. He wanted to say something, anything, but the guilt was suffocating. He remained silent, his shadows coiling tighter around him.

He turned and walked away, his shoulders trembling as he sought solitude. Once he was far enough from camp, his knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, his shadows wrapping around him like a shroud. In his shaking hands, he clutched a bloodied black feather, one torn from her wings during the fight. The blood stained his fingers as tears spilled down his face, his shoulders shaking violently.

His mate.

Taken from him.

The one he loved more than anything.

For him, the realization of love came in fits and starts—quiet, elusive moments that lodged in Azriel’s mind long before he acknowledged them for what they truly were.

He remembered the first inkling as a subtle warmth when he caught her in an unguarded moment: Y/n kneeling beside a little boy on the beach in Summer Court. The love in her eyes as she crafted sea creatures from the water, and the little boy squealing and clapping with pure joy. The sunlight wove through her hair, the light shining behind her making her appear ethereal. He’d chalked it up to admiration of her gentleness and beauty at the time, something distant and impersonal.

Then there was the touring of Velaris, not long after her arrival, talking of her mother and her past. The moment she let her guard down and let him in. Let him see the broken parts of her.

There was the first time he sparred with her, and she took down him down easily, pinning him to the ground, teasing him for being distracted. And the stroll down the riverbank, sharing secrets of her training. The sun’s rays had caught glints of blue in the color of her wings and hair, her eyes dancing with mischief as she told him how she could read his movements before he made them. Azriel had stood beside her, impressed by her knowledge and her fire. She’d turned her head, eyes like the deep ocean, and smiled.

Just that: a small, unburdened smile.

It had felt as if the stars in the heavens overhead had shifted, somehow reorienting the world around that single gesture. He had dismissed the flush of warmth in his veins as simple admiration for her beauty—nothing more.

But those fleeting moments added up. They came to him in the long stretches of silence, drifting through his mind unbidden. The sound of her laugh, low and throaty, as she teased Cassian over some ridiculous jest. The fierce tilt of her chin when she stood her ground against Nesta in an impromptu sparring session—neither truly trying to win, each testing boundaries and learning trust. The gentle way she’d spoken to him late one night in the library, handing him a cup of tea with a quiet question in her eyes, as if ensuring he was well, that he was seen, that he was cared for.

He’d tried to ignore these small, vital signs. He had been fond of others before, after all. He told himself they were just impressions of a new friend, a trusted ally, someone who brought out the best parts of him—the parts he hardly dared believe still existed.

He had resisted the word love, afraid that it would transform all those gentle, stolen moments into something fraught, something demanding.

He was Azriel, the Spymaster.

He did not yearn, did not cling, did not bare his heart to another without fear of losing something vital.

Until today.

The day he lost her.

When he left her behind in Hybern’s clutches to rescue Elain, the magnitude of his feelings slammed into him. The guilt and regret he felt were not simply about failing at a mission or disappointing Rhysand. They cut deeper. They ripped something essential out of his chest, leaving an aching cavity where her presence had always flickered like a secret lantern in the dark.

Grief.

Heartbreak.

He missed her smile, the curve of her wings, the music of her laughter. He yearned for her safety as fiercely as he had ever longed for peace in the shadows of his own soul.

That was the truth he could no longer run from: it wasn’t just fate that tied them together, not merely the Cauldron’s decree that she was his mate.

It was the way her laughter drew him closer like gravity. It was the calm he found in her presence, the sense of being understood, forgiven, and cared for in ways no one else had managed. It was the staggering depth of rage and sorrow he felt now that she was gone, something that demanded he move the earth and sky to bring her back.

He loved her.

The realization settled into him as he watched her hold back soldiers to save him. Save Elain. It didn’t come as a sudden epiphany, but as the final, inevitable truth of all those gentle moments he had collected in his mind. A truth that he spoke as he rescued Elain and vowed to come back for her.

A truth that made him vow, with trembling conviction, that he would do anything—brave any danger, defy any order—to see her safe again. He would tear through every barrier between them to keep her at his side, to show her the tenderness he’d too long withheld, and to spend whatever years fate allowed them proving that he was worthy of the faith she had silently placed in him.

In loving her, he rediscovered some long-lost piece of himself, something he never dared to hope he could have. He realized his love for her had always been there, shimmering in the quiet, stolen glances and soft exchanges. He had simply never dared to name it.

Now, with her absence like a wound, he understood he would never be whole without her by his side.

His shadows curled closer now, as if sensing his torment and trying to comfort him. He would have snarled at them if he had the energy. There was no comfort to be found. He should have done more—been faster, cleverer. He should have risked himself further. If he had reached Y/n first, if he had stood guard over her while fending off those warriors, perhaps he could have coaxed Elain to run, to follow him. Perhaps he would have brought them both out safely.

What good was he if he could not save the one the Mother had chosen for him?

He remembered how he’d vowed silently after he had hurt her by pushing her away, again and again, that if she ever needed him, he would not hesitate.

And yet he had.

He had left her.

Now she was at Hybern’s mercy. Pain spiked like a blade in his chest at the thought of what they might do to her. He closed his eyes, jaw clenched tight, regret souring his mouth.

Azriel swallowed back a bitter taste, resolving that whatever price he had to pay, he would pay it. Whatever danger he had to face, he would face it. He would find her, bring her home, and beg forgiveness that he did not deserve. There would be no rest, no peace in him until he looked into her eyes again and saw understanding and absolution.

For now, there was only silence and guilt, thick as a blade pressed to his throat. He would carry this remorse like a burden, driving him forward into the next dawn, the next battlefield. Until he redeemed himself—or died trying.

Chapter 17

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